#she had some sort of knee injury all year

[dudethatsmyundeaduncle]

DP x DC AU

Danny's gonna adopt all the Halfas in Gotham whether he wants to or not, and it's gonna start with the little dead girl he found after crawling out of that portal in the league base.

Pt 2 here. My Au Art

...........................

There's a dead little girl sitting on the rug in front of Danny's coffee table curiously eating Cheetos.

Well, she's not all the way dead, only half, could even be a little less then that, Danny would know he's sort of the leading expert on being half dead.

Her skins blue, like comic book mystique blue, vibrant and impossible to miss. Shes got these big black eyes and a nasty split going straight through her upper lip to just under her right eye.

She's also missing her nose, it's just gone, no cartilage left over just the gaping nasal cavity like skulls have.

The little girl looks dead, she is dead, or she's at least as dead as Danny is which is almost exclusively in name only.

Her name is Curaré, Danny only knows it because it's been branded into the skin of the little girls neck, just under the curve of her bald skull.

Curaré is terribly thin, the little toddler sized T-shirt she has on hangs loose around her torso where baby fat should fill it out.

She's horrible to look at, a tiny nightmare, her corpse like coloring doing nothing to mitigate the appearance.

Curaré was neither a healthy nor normal little girl, there was no way Danny could have left that league facility without her.

Oh and she almost exclusively spoke in Spanish which made finding her dinner hard.

Not that Cheetos are really dinner, little kids need to eat more then that Danny was pretty sure, like 89% sure. Although they did have a lot of calories...

Danny tilts his head absently as he looks at her, the little demon being illuminated red and green by the glow of the TV. She's enraptured by the Scooby doo rerun Gotham's only spanish language channel is playing tonight.

As if she can feel his eyes she turns to him and tilts her head the same way.

Danny blinks at her, Curaré blinks back.

" Uh- " Danny starts, trying to remember anything from his Spanish elective from sophomore year. God, his teacher had been right he had needed to study more. " The Cheetos, you like them? They're uh...bueno? Oh! Son Buenos?"

He points his finger down at the snack sized bag in her grasp, her fingers are tiny , they must be so fragile, looking at the desperate grasp they have on the bag makes Danny's chest hurt. How could anyone be so small? Had Danny ever been that small?

Curaré blinks again, long and slow, processing Danny's words. She looks down at her Cheetos and back up at Danny then she carefully holds the bag out to him.

" Oh no that's ok they're for you kiddo" Danny insists.

Curaré shakes the bag at him, like enticing a stray cat with treats but he only shakes his head again.

She gives up after that, shrugging and turning back to her cartoons.

Inside her chest Danny can feel her ghost core vibrate placidly as Scooby and Shaggy run across the TV in a panic.

Danny's own core can't help but try to match it's frequency, a low contented humming echoes between them, safe it seems to say.

Curaré can't be older then 4, which means she was resurrected young and that she died even younger. Danny doesn't know how any of it happened, halfas aren't created easily, the amount of energy needed...

She's so small.

He hopes it was fast, whatever it was that did this to her, made her like him.

Danny also hopes that her injuries aren't permanent. Some ghosts keep the carnage of their corpses well into the after life but as a Halfa Curaré should heal, even if she got those injuries during her ressurction. For her sake it'll be much easier to find some sense of normalcy if she isn't always actively bleeding, even if the blood itself is just an ecto-echo of real blood.

Danny curls his knees up to his chest and hides his face for a moment just trying to breathe. He's too young to be taking care of a toddler, he's still six months away from turning 18 and hes got school on Monday. His eyes burn and his throat constricts as he tries to swallow.

No one else but Danny would know how to take care of Curaré, and she's got no family to try and stumble their way through it. Danny can't take her back to the league and he sure as hell isn't going to search for whoever put that brand on her neck.

Even if he dropped her off at the fire station Gotham only has one Meta focused orphanage, it's state run and all the kids in it have to wear little prison style jump suits. And the food sucks, Danny can personally vouch for that.

She doesn't have a home, she's just as out of place here in Gotham as Danny is. Danny really wishes, not for the first time, that he had an adult here. Like Jazz or hell even Mr. Fuckin Lancer.

Just anyone. Anyone who could tell Danny what to do about this. Who could help him out with the child he's suddenly acquired.

He wishes anyone else was here so it wouldn't just be him and Curaré. Two dead kids sitting on the floor of a studio apartment in the Bowery watching cartoons.

What a pair the two of them will make, oh God. Danny laughs as a few tears stain his jeans.

Curaré makes a curious little noise that has Danny forcing his head up. She's reached the inevitable end of her snack sized bag and she looks absolutely devastated. She turns to look at him, tilting the empty bag towards him as if to say ' can you believe this shit!'

Danny can't help but give her a watery smile, no more crying Fenton, and wipes his nose on the back of his hand.

" Okay, one thing at a time." Danny tells himself. " You finished your Cheetos and now it's time for dinner, right? Stop me if I'm wrong."

Curaré just looks at him.

Danny's not worried, they're gonna have all the time in the world to teach her to appreciate humour and also English.

" I'm going to take that as a yes. " Danny hops up off the floor and goes to find his phone, nobody does dinner like the local Batburger.

Little foot steps follow him into the hallway, he'll have to get used to that sound he's going to be hearing it a lot.

Food first, everything would be better after they ate.

...............

For BG I imagine he's been living in Gotham for a few months and found Curaré while popping in and out of different portals in Gotham. (Who woulda guessed that some portal in Gotham leads right to the lazarus pit)

Note: if u wanna see cool art for this AU it's all in the Danny and the little dead girl au tag on my pg!

[downbadf0rficppl]

you're on your own kid

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You had a rough childhood, what with an absent father and a piece of shit mother. When a family dinner goes wrong, how do you stop your brain from spiraling? How do you convince yourself you're not alone? A certain blue-eyed, metal-armed avenger, of course.

Word Count: 3.3K

Warnings: Eating Disorders/Weight Related Talk, Blood, Injury, Kinda Self Harm, Child Abuse [PLEASE DO NOT READ IF THESE TOPICS MAKE YOU UNCOMFORTABLE!!!]

You squirmed in your seat, fidgeting with your sleeves. It was awkward being at home after so long. You hadn't been home for four years almost - and it had probably been even longer since you'd sat at this table. Your mother sat across the table from you - her gaze heavy on your head. Heavy is the head that wears the crown, your brother had joked.

He was sitting next to you, his knee gently brushing against yours. A placating movement. He was trying to keep the peace - enjoying the first meal that you had had as a family in a long while. You don't know what it was that made you seek them out. Maybe if you had waited a week, you would have thought about the facts, rather than the feelings. Maybe if you had waited a week, you wouldn't be sitting here with the weight of the world on your shoulders.

You sat in silence, playing with the food on your plate. Your mother was of the almond variety, weighing out plates before passing them around the table. You didn't have much to talk about. Things hadn't ended well the last time the two of you spoke.

Your brother chimed in with the odd question - 'How's your gardening coming along, mom?' or 'How's the new job, sis? What's it like working for the Avengers?'. You'd humour him until your mother's disapproving stares became too much and then you'd shut up. He'd give you a sad sort of pitying smile, before returning to his food.

Dinner was long - even it was less than the traditional three courses. Your brother packed up some extra food, and took it home - he only lived about a half mile away so it made sense for him to go home. You made to go with him but your mother insisted you stay with her. "I made up your room, just the way you like it."

You doubted it. But you smiled anyway and hugged your brother tightly. He whispered that 'you would be fine' and 'it's only one night' and maybe for a second you believed him. As soon as he left, you headed to bed, claiming that 'The trip was long, ma, I'm super tired.'

The look on her face screamed that she didn't believe you. But she waved you good night and headed to the kitchen to find her favourite bottle of scotch.

You opened the door to your childhood bedroom to find it almost the same. The pink walls and bedcovers were suffocating, the blinds drawn shut to create this overwhelming feeling of being trapped. You were. Trapped.

You took your jumper off, laid it over your vanity chair, and jumped onto the bed. It was comfortable, but lying there staring at the ceiling brought back all the horrible memories you tried to suppress. Diet pills and weighing scales, small plates and vomiting, screaming and crying, sirens and hospital bills. Tears streamed down your face as curled up onto your side.

It was almost midnight when you heard your mother walk up the stairs. You knew she was drunk - her steps were loud and out of sync, and the bottle in her hand frequently tapped the banister as she tried to stabilise herself on it. You half expected her to keep walking, cross the landing, and fall dead asleep on her bed.

Instead, your door creaked open and you came face to face with her. Her glassy eyes were rimmed with red - she'd been crying too. Her eyes raked over you and suddenly you wished you'd never come back at all.

"Such a shame," she whispered, "You could have been so much more."

"Ma?"

"You were always... the best. The prettiest. The skinniest. You could have been incredible. Instead, you are... nobody."

Her words cut deep but you tried to ignore them. You were somebody. You worked for the Avengers, you were a top-level agent for SHIELD. You helped save the world.

"I tried my best. To help you. But you were ungrateful," Your mother stalked closer, her sadness giving way to anger, "conceited, convinced that you could be anything more than what I made you. But you were wrong. I created you. Without me, THERE IS NO YOU." She launched the bottle at your head and it shattered at the wall behind you.

She kept screaming, but you tuned her out, slipping off the bed and grabbing your jumper and keys. You ran past her, shoving her hard as she tried to grab you and ran out to your car. She watched you go screaming abuse after you, telling you to 'never step foot inside her house again.' You weren't planning to.

You drove like a madman back to upstate - traffic was pretty light considering the ungodly hour. You parked haphazardly - Tony would probably murder you for it in the morning but you couldn't find it within yourself to care. You trudged upstairs, footfalls far too heavy for someone is literally a superspy, but this was your home. You weren't running from anyone in here.

You were so stuck in your own head that you didn't realise that Bucky was sitting in the living room, watching as you walked into the kitchen. He'd heard your footsteps and he was worried. You never walked that heavily.

"Everything ok, doll?"

You looked up at him, not registering a word he said. He stood up and walked over to you, fingers reaching up to stroke your face.

"You good?" He whispered, his forehead almost touching yours.

You pulled away from his touch, even though your body was screaming for you to collapse into his open arms. "Yeah, Buck, fine. See you in the morning for training." You stepped past him, heading for the stairs.

"Yeah, doll. See you in the morning."

The morning came around far quicker than you'd hoped. You had barely slept, tossing and turning all night, your mother's words ringing through your head.

Eventually, you realised it was a futile effort. You might as well get up and be productive. You found yourself in the gym just as the sun came up, face to face with a heavy bag. You clenched your wrapped fists before shaking the sleep out of your system.

Your hits were precise, measured, calculated. If there was one thing no one could fault you for, it was your skills. You were an impeccable agent. If only your mum could see that. You took your rage out on the heavy bag, pouring every ounce of resent in your body into your punches. Sweat beaded on your forehead, the exertion making your breaths heavier and your knuckles sting. You kept punching, time slipping away from you.

You heard the door to the gym open, and someone was talking. Their voice was muted, almost as if your head was underwater. Between the punches and your tiredness, nothing registered in your foggy mind. From the distance you could hear footsteps, getting louder almost as if they were walking towards you.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when a hand brushed against your shoulder. You spun around ready to cuss out whichever stupid rookie decided to bother you so early in the morning. You were surprised to see familiar eyes boring into yours.

"I called your name, you know," Bucky said, his hands moving to rest on your waist, "twice. I even dropped my bag next to yours to get your attention."

"Sorry, I was thinking."

"I can tell," Bucky's thumbs drew circles on your waist, absentmindedly, "Where's that pretty mind been at lately?"

"What do you want, Barnes?"

"I'm worried. About you. You haven't been yourself lately. What's going on?"

"Nothing." You sighed, removing yourself from his grasp, "Missions, reports, meetings. It's tiring."

"Maybe you take a holiday? Try and relax a bit?" You could hear the genuine concern in his voice but you still rolled your eyes.

"Maybe you mind your own fucking business, Barnes? Don't you have other shit to be doing apart from hovering over me?" You grabbed your stuff, refusing to make eye contact with him, and walked out.

"I'm still seeing you for training right?" You hear him call after you, but you keep walking. You let out a shaky breath as soon as you got into the elevator.

He didn't see you for training. Or after.

You'd skipped training in favour of going on a run with Steve and then you had to file a few mission reports. You'd holed yourself up in your office, manila files piling up on the corner of your desk your fingers brushing over the keys with seasoned speed. Bucky had wanted to stop by but given your odd behaviour in the morning, he'd decided against it.

You were glad. You hated that Bucky could see right through you, even when you tried your best to hide it. Especially because you were irrevocably in love with him.

You'd been in love with him ever since you'd started working at the compound. Bucky was one of the few people to notice you and your efficiency. You became one of his preferred mission partners, a fact of which you were very proud. You quickly became one of his favourite people, period, and Bucky even went so far as to blow off Steve to spend time with you.

It hurt you to keep him at arm's length but you knew it was for the best. You remembered what your father told you the night before he left. You're on your own kid. You always have been.

You were given a mission assignment in the evening, with strict instructions of 'wheels up at 0600.' The early pickup time wasn't strange and you were itching to get out of the compound. You packed your bag up, leaving it by the door, and headed to bed.

Another restless night of sleep was the last thing you needed, but you were up and at the hangar waiting for Captain Rogers by 0600. He smiled when he saw you and handed you a coffee. You smiled. Your first real smile since you visited your parents.

"Good luck out there." A voice calls from behind you. You freeze. Bucky jogs towards you both, his eyes betraying his tiredness. Steve's face breaks into a grin at the sight of his old friend. Steve throws his arms around Bucky.

"Don't do anything stupid until I get back," Steve says, his joking tone making Bucky laugh.

"How can I? You're taking all the stupid with you."

You want to smile at the sight of the two of them together but you held yourself back. You walked towards the quinjet, ready to get this show on the road when you hear Bucky clearing his voice behind you.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Onto the quinjet?"

"Not without a hug, you're not." You sigh but trudge down the steps to give him a half-arsed side hug. He pulls you in tight, and whispers into your hair, "When you get back, we're gonna talk. Okay?"

You don't respond, brushing him off and climbing into the jet. Steve follows you in, dropping his bag next to yours, before turning back to wave at Bucky.

"Don't worry, Buck, I'll take good care of your girl."

His girl. That sounded nice. You shook the thought away before elbowing Steve in the sight. Jokingly of course, but he still doubled over for effect. Bucky burst into laughter.

That was the last thing you saw as the door went up.

The mission was hard. Not terrible - no one died, which was a win in your book - but it wasn't fun. Multiple shootouts, car chases, and three hours of hiding in a dumpster later, you were ready to nap for a week. But, alas, Fury had set a debrief at 8 the next morning, which meant that you had - you checked the clock on your microwave - 6 hours at best.

You dropped your bag on the sofa and headed into the bathroom. You unzipped your utility vest, dropping it on the floor. You needed to disinfect it - god knows what had stained that vest. You pulled up your compression shirt, wincing as the flecks of red came into view. You quickly stripped it off, dropping it in the washing basket, before whipping back around. You caught your own reflection in the mirror and tilted your head, taking in your reflection of your body. Your mother's words played back in your head. Maybe your mother had a point.

You quickly shook your head, dispelling those horrible thoughts from your mind. But still, you continued to stare at your body, scrutinising every feature. I mean, sure you weren't as skinny as you used to be, but that's because you had muscle now, right? And the hamburger you had for lunch was a treat - you know for completing the mission? The super important mission that you were on because you are important and you are somebody and you have value and you are someone without your mum. Don't you? And it's ok that you can't see your ribs because actually you have abs now and that's way more attractive. Right? And.. and... and....

SMASH.

Broken glass was shattered all around you, fragments piercing your skin. Your mirror now had a fist-shaped hole in the middle, from where your sadness had quickly bled into anger.

You cradled your bloodied fist in your hand, sinking to the ground as sobs racked through your body. Glass dug into your knees as they hit the floor and you curled your hands into your chest. Hurtful 'what ifs' swirled through your head, stealing your breath and making it almost impossible to breathe.

Pounding on your door broke you out of your thoughts. You tried to regain your bearings. It was 2 am. You were in your apartment, the apartment that was miles away from the compound, that you lived in alone. Who the hell would be at your door right now?

You were silent, breath bated as you waited for the stranger to go away. They banged on the door again.

"Doll, I swear to god, if you don't let me in, I'm going to break your fucking door down."

You knew that voice anywhere. The knowledge that you weren't alone, that he was here for you, that Bucky wouldn't make you suffer alone brought new tears to your eyes. Fresh sobs burst from your chest as you tried to move. Glass shards were stabbing into your legs, and one of your hands was bleeding profusely. Bucky, your safety net, was so close and yet so far.

"Doll? Doll, I can hear you. Doll, please, please let me in." You could hear the panic in his voice as he struggled with his conscience. You tried to move but the pain was excruciating. A pained scream erupted from your lips.

A loud bang came from your front door, followed by heavy and fast footsteps.

"Where are you, doll? Come on, just come and talk to me." He said, sweeping through your living room. You whimpered from the bathroom, his enhanced hearing focussing on even the smallest of sounds.

He quickly found his way into the bathroom, his eyes raking over your hunched figure, before flitting to the broken mirror and the shards of glass on the ground.

"Oh doll," he whispered, bending down to scoop you up from the floor. He cradled you gently as he carried you from the bathroom into your bedroom. "What happened, doll? Talk to me."

You looked up at him, trying to figure out where to start. You blanked. You couldn't find a good place to start the story that would cause you the least pain. Your mouth opened and closed a few times with no sound coming out. Bucky rested his hand against yours, trying to reassure you to take your time, but the sound of your wince drew his attention to your hands.

"Doll, your hands." He grabbed your hands gently, peering at your knuckles. They were mauled, glass sticking out of torn-up skin, "What did you do?" He stood up, walking into your kitchen to grab the first aid kit he knew was under the sink. Watching him walk around like he owned the place made some small part of your heart happy - it was almost as if your dreams, your darkest-held fantasies, were coming true.

Bucky kneeled in front of you, placing the first aid kit beside him. He brushed all the glass shards off your legs - luckily none of them had been embedded into your skin. He cleaned any small scratches before turning to your knuckles. The sight of your knuckles made him wince and you started to pull them away. Bucky leveled you with a look that said, let me take care of you. You let him. He sterilised a pair of tweezers and got to work pulling the shards of glass out of your knuckles. You sat in silence for a while, Bucky diligently working on your knuckles, and you watching the swiftness with which he worked.

"Why did you punch the mirror, doll?" Bucky asked after a while.

"I was angry," you whispered, your voice deathly quiet. Now that the rage was gone, all you had left was embarrassment.

"And why were you angry?" Bucky coaxed, his eyes pleading for some answers. He pulled out the last shard of glass before swiping an alcohol wipe over your knuckles and bandaging them up. He packed up all the items back into the first aid box and went to put it away and wash his hands.

You were still sat on the bed contemplating your answer when he got back. He knelt in front of you again, before he rested his hands on your face, "Why were you angry doll?"

"I didn't like it." You whispered, pulling your body away from him.

"What didn't you like?" Bucky's eyes stared into yours and you suddenly felt extremely self-conscious. You tried to remove yourself from his all-seeing, mind-reading gaze, but he didn't let you. He pulled you into his lap, and you hid your face in his neck. His beard tickled your forehead as you nestled into him, trying to seek out the comfort you so desperately needed but didn't know how to ask for.

"Me." You said, your head turned away from him as you stared at your hands.

"What?"

"I didn't like me." Your voice started to shake as you tried to find the right words to tell him the truth, the whole honest godforsaken truth, but you couldn't.

Bucky seemed to read your mind, "It's ok, take your time. We don't have to talk about this today. We can come back to it later, when you're feeling up for it, okay?" You nodded, burrowing further into him, "You wanna sleep?"

You nodded again, and Bucky shifted, wrapping his arms around you so he could gently place you down on the bed. He removed his arms from underneath you and tucked you into bed, gently kissing your forehead as you turned to leave. You whined.

"Pleasedon'tgoBuck-" You mumbled, sleep quickly pulling you under. He smiled, perching himself on the end of the bed.

"You sure you want me to say, sweetheart? Not sure you'll ever get rid of me if I stay?"

"I promise. Never want you to go." You said, clinging to his arm and pulling him back into bed.

You slipped into an easy slumber as Bucky shuffled around in your room. Maybe you didn't have to be on your own anymore.

fin.

buy me a coffee

[bxlladxnnabxtch]

Delaying a Phantom

Rhysand x Reader

❀​🇲​​🇦​​🇸​​🇹​​🇪​​🇷​​🇱​​🇮​​🇸​​🇹​❀

Summary: Amren grapples with her loyalty to her High Lord and Lady. Meanwhile, said High Lady's fall from grace proves to be a major setback in her journey.

Read pt. 1 of Delaying a Phantom - HERE

Read pt. 6 - HERE

Warnings: Descriptions of injury/disfigurement, Brief mention of trauma flashbacks.

“What the hell are you doing?”

As soon as the trio had winnowed to the House of Wind, Amren had attempted to stage an intervention of some sort, if you could even call it that. It’s not like she was expecting him to drop everything that he was doing, but she was hoping to at least get some answers- or some semblance of a plan. She watched as Rhys tumbled into the first seat he saw, Mor eyeing them wearily.

A groan broke out of him, whether it was from the pain or the spontaneous interrogation, Amren didn’t care. She cocked her head to the side, black bob swaying with the movement. “Well?” Rhys cocked his head up, eyes finally falling on Amren, they flickered over to Morrigan for a second before he said “I am doing what is necessary.”

Amren’s eyebrow rose, and she shot a glance at Mor to find her examining her nailbeds, clearly already withdrawn from the conversation. “Care to input?” She asked, mildly annoyed at Morrigan’s carefree attitude. Morrigan’s head shot up, the blonde giving a non-committal shrug. “I don’t see how I’m involved in this.”

Amren shot her a puzzled look. “Your High Lady just fled your court, this guy-” Amren pointed to Rhys as he shifted in barely concealed pain. “-just brought another High Lords betrothed into our home, and we are on the brink of war. Remind me again how this doesn’t concern you?”

Morrigan shifted on her feet as Amren pointed out her willful ignorance. Her eyes darting between her and her High Lord. Her clear awkwardness had Amren floored. Did she think this didn’t affect her at all? Did she not see how this situation posed a risk to not only you, but the entire status of the Night Court?

Morrigan’s non-answer had Amren releasing a disregarding sigh. “You both need to get your head out of your ass.” She said, grey eyes settling onto Rhys yet again. “And you.” She began, turning her full attention to him. She crouched down, forearms settling on her knees as she squatted. She looked up at his face that was scattered in scuffs and newly forming bruises. She held no sympathy for him, her tone coming out slightly colder than usual. “Is it really worth losing her over this?”

Amren wasn’t about to dive headfirst into a fight between mates, it wasn’t her place. The last thing she wanted to do was take a few pages out of Azriel’s book and start a brawl with Rhys. She seemed to be caught in the middle, her loyalty being pulled taunt between the two of you, and if there was one thing she hated, it was picking sides. But regardless of the situation surrounding your disappearance, you were her High Lady, and she’d be damned if she didn’t at least try to make Rhys realize what he seemed to be doing to you.

Rhys head lolled; his eyes unfocused for a second before they snapped to attention at her question. “It’s worth anything to keep you safe- to keep her safe.” He said, tone laced with a sort of desperation that Amren had never heard come from him. Despite his apparent fretting, Amren scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping her.

“Don’t fool yourself, boy. You aren’t doing this for me.”

Azriel’s shadow was more persistent than you’d thought it’d be. No matter how fast you flew, the wind whipping past you and catching on your cheeks, the relentless blow of it stinging your eyes, it was right with you. It zipped around you, clung to you almost like a mother, and despite how at first you found it’s constant presence annoying, you began to enjoy the way it swept around you. After all those years you spent Under the Mountain, you forgot just how much you loved to fly.

I mean, of course, you had flown when you were in the Night Court, but after Under the Mountain, you could never quite bring yourself to let loose. But even before, when you were free to fly whenever you wanted, you were always so busy you either didn’t have the time or used your ability to fulfill your duties. You never really were able to sit and appreciate just how much you loved the feel of it. The way your stomach dipped when you suddenly plummeted, the wind that kissed you and ran its fingers through your hair, and the view.

By the Cauldron, the view.

The lands of the Day Court sprawled out beneath you, rolling fields and steady streams that had a goofy grin plastering its way onto your features. You could see every tree that dotted the fields, the sparse houses that appeared every now and then. This was the closest to peace you had been in a long time. The feeling had you spinning in the air, your wings tucking in to do a complete roll that had butterflies fluttering in your stomach. The sun felt warm on your skin, the cloudless sky not doing much to stop the way it melted into your skin and had a warm, joyous feeling beginning to sprout inside you. Your tattooed hands extended, feeling the wind fighting to press them down back to your sides as you studied the line that separated the sky and the horizon.

A rush of pain violently burned its way down the bond so fast you wailed, your figure seizing.

And then you were plummeting.

You couldn’t get your wings to move, couldn’t will your body to do anything as it continued to lock up. The pain still fought its way through the bond.

Pain cascaded down your back and a choked, pained sound left you again before you hit the first tree.

You collided, and you felt the branches hurtling into you, the sticks scratching at you. They cut you open, ruthlessly scraping up against you as you crashed through the trees. It felt like you were getting pummeled, the leaves hitting your face before you finally felt yourself collide into the ground.

You were dying.

There was no other explanation. Pain overtook you like a blanket, searing your nerves and making a piercing scream break through you. You twitched, a sob leaving you as you dug your fingers into the ground. Tears slid down your cheeks as you gritted your teeth, chest stuttering as you tried to breath. Despite your efforts, you couldn’t get a breath in, and another wail left you with less air.

Your forehead rested in the dirt; the crater you had made from your fall didn’t provide any comfort as your body flinched in pain. You felt a brief wave of revolting nostalgia wash over you, as if it was raking its grotesque fingers over your senses. It reminded you all too well of the cell you had been in Under the Mountain, the grime that had grown to be a permanent fixture on your skin.

Another throb had you snapping out of the flashback, and you came to your senses well enough to realize that the pain was coming from your wing. You attempted to unfurl both your wings, beginning to stretch them out before a blinding pain had you seizing up again. Your left wing only twitched in response, shuddering against the pain that went through it. You craned your head, sweat beginning to bead on your brow as you laid your eyes on the damage you did. The membrane was still intact, but the drooping told you that it was obviously broken.

Fuck.

A yell of frustration broke from you, and you blinked away the tears blurring your vision as you fought your way through the pain, a hand coming to push yourself up. You hauled yourself to your knees, another groan leaving you and you pushed yourself to your feet. The weight of your wing pulled it down, and it had you clenching your jaw in an effort not to cry out again. You braced yourself on a nearby trunk, looking around for any obvious landmarks to tell you where you crashed. You swallowed thickly, attempting to asses how you were going to complete the rest of your journey on foot. Despite your best efforts, the pain made it hard to think. You were almost to the Dawn Court border, so you started with the obvious decision.

You needed to get your wing patched up.

[kurogxrix]

Feels Like We’re Oceans Apart ( I. )

Ao’nung x Sully!reader x Sully!family

IN WHICH Ao’nung was dared to date the eldest Sully daughter with vitiligo, while Jake and Neytiri face the hells of parenthood with a child that’s different from others.

WC: 6k

Warnings: bullying, violence, misunderstandings, Jake and Neytiri trying their bests ok.

You were born different, just like your little siblings Lo’ak and Kiri. Though their only peculiar features were their five fingers and hairy eyebrows, given their human genes. You were a little more than that, a little more than what the na’vi could handle. They had no issues welcoming a five-fingered baby into their clan, mainly because they were ruled by one. 

It was a whole different story when Neytiri had announced the birth of an oddly coloured baby. Presented under the curious eyes of the clan, they watched as Jake held a tiny baby clutched to his chest. Your skin was initially dark blue just like theirs, but it was the strangely arranged white spots on your body that troubled them. 

It was nothing like what they had seen before, and so their minds could only jump to conclusions. They weren’t familiar yet foreign to the existence of albino na’vis, but accusing Neytiri of being unfaithful to her mate was far-fetched. Mo’at and Neytiri were scared to death once you were born, face to face with a spotted baby. They both feared that you were born with some incurable diseases, which was not too far from the truth.

At least on this planet. Jake took his time to reassure his crying mate, telling Neytiri that it was not necessarily normal, but you weren’t dying. A trip to the human’s lab and a long series of explanations from Norm had reassured the both of them even more. Vitiligo was what the scientists at the lab had diagnosed you with. For them, upon visual inspection it was obvious of what you were suffering from. 

“Stop moving, you little-“ the 13 year old Neteyam tried to restrain himself from cursing at you as you struggled in his arms. You were about a year younger than Neteyam, and his arms were still lanky and thinner than imaginable at the time, so holding you back was definitely harder than he could’ve imagined. 

You were relentless, aggressive almost as you fought the invading urge to bite your way out of his embrace. But no, you couldn’t. Not again, not when your father stood a few metres in front of you as he stared you down with those unruly eyes of his. He looked at you as though you were some sort of stranger for a second, his eyes filling with an unfamiliar look before snapping out of it definitively. It was like Jake finally realised that it was his own daughter that was standing before him, and his ears dropped at the thought. 

Blood dripped from his aching ear, the sounds of liquid plopping against the floor went unmissed by your heightened hearing. The two puncture holes in your father’s ears were the magnet of attention in the room, all eyes set on his injury like it was the most interesting sight of all year. All before he brought a hand up to rub the dribbling blood away, making his wound more visible before another bead of fresh blood covered the holes once more.  

Neytiri simply stood beside her husband, little care towards his injury for the moment as she stared at her distressed daughter. You looked so out of it, and none of them could understand why. She felt Jake move away from his current spot, their shoulders brushing as the contact brought her back from her thinking. Neytiri watched as Jake walked towards you, inevitably calming you down slightly as he kneeled before Neteyam and you.

Your older brother almost dropped to his knees and started praying to the Great-Mother for the rest, his arms loosening around you just a little. The room was quiet enough for you to properly hear the shuffling of your smaller siblings, cluttered together at this side of your tent. 

You felt your father’s hand come to lay upon your hair, caressing your hair lovingly in an attempt at soothing your nerves. Though you shied away from his touch at first, you allowed him to keep his hand there. 

“You wanna tell me why you did that.” Jake tried again, his left ear fluttering involuntarily as he referred to his new injury. Never would he have thought that today was the day where he’d get physically assaulted by his own daughter, but parenthood is all about surprises. 

His free hand came to rest on Neteyam’s shoulders, still being able to reach it from his kneeling position. Your father pushed your brother gently away from you, freeing you from his light embrace. Under his upclose stare, you couldn’t help but fiddle with your fingers like a little kid after getting caught sneaking candy. Your eyes bounced around the whole room, not once meeting his own. 

You remained silent as you knew that he didn’t specifically want to talk about his injury, but rather why you had done it. It was all a blur of emotions, a rush of feelings that your father had interrupted. To him you were acting like a brat, but it was so much more than that to you. More of a realistic realisation than a childish tantrum. 

Earlier this day, you had been spending time with a certain boy in the clan during an excursion. His name was Rangya, born a soft boy at heart in contrast to his stern father. He was nice and unlike the other kids in the clan, and you found peace in his presence. Eventually one thing led to the other, and the both of you strayed further away from your youth adventuring group.

It was dangerous out here for 2 kids of your age to be wandering around alone, and it didn’t take long for the group leaders to notice your disappearance. It was to your bad luck and stupidity that your father was a warrior, not even to mention the olo’eyktan, so it was his duty to go on the lookout for the both of you. His heart picked up the pace once he had heard your name coming out of the distressed woman’s name, who she was supposed to be keeping an eye on your class.

Surely Jake would give her a good talk later about it, but for now his own daughter and some kid were alone in the ruthless forest. Truth to be told, your adoration towards the boy ran a little further than a stupid childhood crush. No, instead you admired Rangya for his many traits at such a young age. He was undeniably the smartest and nicest person that you had ever met in the Omaticaya clan, and letting go of that could only be a fool’s mistake. 

Though as time strayed and the sun cleared behind the moon, you failed to realise the way that the world was getting darker around you. Instead your new goal was to examine every single plant that surrounded the both of you, your hand clasped tightly into the young boy’s as he reassured you that it was only for your protection. 

Now Jake was just there at the wrong time to catch an image of the wrong thing. It wasn’t like your hand in Rangya’s could be interpreted as anything else, or the fact that your faces were a little too close for comfort. It wasn’t that he was mad at you or the poor boy. Daughters had stupid, young boyfriends that father’s were opposed to, that’s how it usually went. At least that’s what he had thought that your relationship was labelled as. Matter of fact he had not even been visibly upset at you, but when he had demanded that you leave the boy and return back home, you knew that it was the end of it. 

That once you arrived back home, your father would tell you that you had to cut off whatever dumb relationship that there was between Rangya and you. And so you did whatever you could to make the moment last, struggled, kicked and argued with your dad to put you back down as he had picked you up after you had refused to walk back home with him. 

Jake’s eyebrows furrowed with frustration as you reacted in such a way. You’ve always been a calm kid, just like your big brother Neteyam. Though he had always thanked the Great-Mother that you were unlike his youngest son, because Eywa knew how much of a menacing duo you both would be. Now it confused him to no end as you kicked and cried in his arms, desperation thick in your voice as you begged for him to put you down. 

Though he denied you of that right, instead dragging your breaking down frame back to your family tent. Chaos striked before Jake could even reach Bob, his loyal ikran. The sudden throbbing of his ear had caught him totally off guard, a hand unravelling from where he was currently holding you to hold onto his aching ear. It had not one single moment come to his mind that the perpetrator could’ve been you, but a single look at you had sold you out. 

The crimson liquid that ran down the swell of your fangs was a dead giveaway, and the blood that covered Jake’s hand as he pulled it back down was like more evidence. If he hadn’t been angry at you before because of your bratty behaviour, then he sure as hell was now. He was livid, ears flung back painfully as it pressed onto his new injury. The top of his lips were pulled back in some sort of angry expression that he was trying to keep in. 

You would’ve been lying if you said that you weren’t scared shitless on the way back home. The way that your father’s nostrils were flaring, and the fact that he refused to look at you once until you reached your family tent. 

The recollection of earlier memories and the overwhelming feeling of your dad unknowingly pressuring you was too much. Too much for your little mind and frail heart to manage, for you had always been fragile at heart. Just like your mother, you had no fear in expressing your feelings physically rather than verbally. 

Jake can’t help the frustrated sigh that leaves his mouth as he watches your ears fill up with tears, unable to tell him anything that he wishes to hear. He dipped his head all the way down to his chest as his hand dropped from your hair, exhaling once too quickly to regain his senses. You missed it as quickly as it came, the comforting feeling of your father’s touch. Your fingers were intertwined together as you fiddled anxiously with them, afraid once more of what your father thought of you. 

“Fine, cmon lets just go and get checked up with grandma okay?” he asks rhetorically as he stands up, dusting his clean knees as a stress habit. He walked all the way towards the tent’s doors, barely having time to step a foot outside before his wife’s booming voice rang through his ears. 

“Ma Jake, please just calm down for a second! You’re moving too fast and we can’t just leave Tuk here with them, they���re just kids!” Neytiri gritted her teeth as she scolded her husband, his eyebrows furrowed further than he thought they could as he listened to her. She bent down before you to pick you up into her arms, wrapping your arms tightly around her neck as she hoisted you up alongside herself.

What she was saying was true, Jake was truly going overboard and leaving their 5 year old daughter with their other young children was not all the most responsible. Although they all knew that Neteyam was more than able to take care of his family, they wished not to burden him anymore. He was spent from the hectic day of events that he had spent, and it was not fair to bear him of more responsibilities that were not his to care for. 

But Jake was spent as well, he’s had a rough day and the churn of events that he had thought would be a nice and relaxing night with his family had truly roughed him up even more. 

“Maybe we wouldn’t have to if we didn’t have to take such intense care of that child of yours!” he points a finger towards your mother accusingly, asif you were only her child. Asif it hadn’t taken the both of them to conceive you, like you weren’t his daughter. Though as quick as the words are to leave his mouth, he regrets them. He regrets the way Neytiri falls silent under his traitorous words, or the way you try to hide further into her neck in fear of catching a glimpse at your father’s angry expression. 

He sighs again, and your ears cling further to your head at the sound of it. Jake’s expression falls at your body language, ear laid back, tail flat in between your legs and the undeniable sounds of your hushed sobbing. It breaks his heart that you cry because of him, that he had allowed such words to escape him. He’s scared you had mistaken his sigh as a sign of disappointment, and he’s much more scared of the death glare that his wife was giving him.

Though he didn't meet her eyes yet out of fear, he brought a hand back onto your head. As awkward as he always was while expressing himself, it doesn’t even feel like he’s able to mutter any sort of apology to you at the moment, and you feel your heart ache at the fact. 

“Watch your mouth.” Neytiri grits out at Jake, teeth firmly grinding together as she speaks. She spoke out every syllable with a pricised articulation so he could hear every single one of her words right. She was angry, undeniably at her husband but now was no time to dwell on things. The faster that they would get ready to leave, the faster that Mo’at could get you checked up and you could all return back home to a good night's sleep. 

-

The days after your little unexplained temper tantrum had been unexpectedly quiet for you. Unlike your ongoing personality around your parents, and your usual loudmouth that just loved to talk back to your dad, you were as silent as a rock. Your father had not even gotten to apologise yet, because Eywa knew how awkward he would be added to the fact that you refused to speak to any of them. 

It was obvious that you were avoiding them just as you were avoiding the other kids in the clan. You complained each time that your mom forced you to leave the tent, and that was about the only time where you’d be audible. Neytiri was overwhelmed with the undying fear that she played a part in sending you into some sort of mutism. She cried to your father at night, when they were supposed to be enjoying their night between lovers as they laid under the stars. 

She just couldn’t shake the worries away, no matter how much time passed. Until one day she brought up to Jake what she had overheard about you. She had dragged Jake outside of their tent, watching you from the corners of her eyes as you played with your handcrafted dolls. It worried Jake that Neytiri looked so on edge, asif she had heartbreaking news to deliver to him. And that was exactly that. 

It didn’t take long for your mother to catch onto what the other kids in the clan were saying about you. Her ears pinning tightly against her skull as she heard the nasty nickname coming out of a child’s mouth, one that was designated for you. Not to add to the fact that their parents already thought you were the spawn of the devil himself, confused as to why Eywa had blessed you with life. It broke her heart to pieces because she couldn’t do anything about it, no matter how much she reprimanded those kids and their parents, no matter how many times she scolded them. Kids will be kids, and you’d always be the ‘ugliest girl in the clan’. 

No amount of herbal paste would change your disorder and no amount of grovelling would erase what those kids had said about you. Though in Neytiri’s eyes, she’s always believed you were as beautiful as the sun. As every mother thinks of her children, she thought that you were blessed by Eywa with an utter beauty. But not everyone had eyes like your mother, they were cursed with the blindness of judgement. Neytiri would never fail to remind you of how good you looked in her eyes, that you were born special for a reason. That other kids picked on you because they were basic, and you were unique. 

She poured tears as she spoke the same words as those kids to your father, wondering how anyone could be so heartless to her daughter. How anyone had the guts to talk down the child that she had carried for so many months, and birthed under the protection of the Great-Mother. How parents could allow their kids to speak ill of you in such a way, she’d never understand. 

Jake connected the dots in his head, thinking that maybe that’s why you had acted the way that you had on that day. Maybe because you were ‘the ugliest girl in the clan’ or maybe it was because Rangya didn’t think so of you. He didn’t believe that you were what those kids had nicknamed you as, and Jake had selfishly ripped that away from you. 

Though he believed that he was in the right, because no child of 12 years needed a boyfriend anyway. He should’ve just let you be, maybe then you would’ve realised so on your own. You would notice that the only reason why you wanted to be with that boy was because he didn’t treat you like the others. But now it was too late for that, and your father had stripped you from the potential future that awaited you with this boy. 

He let out a grunt of disappointment, moreso towards him than towards the guilty children. He couldn’t help his gaze from flickering from his sobbing mate that he was hugging tightly against his chest, and back towards your innocent frame that was still playing inside of the tent. Kiri was now next to you, brugudly so as her eyerolls said. 

She held one of your wooden dolls in one of her hands, moving it comically as she played around with yours. There was a glint of something else behind those annoyed eyes of hers, some sort of hidden glee. Perhaps not because she was playing with those stupid toys of yours, definitely not that. Maybe it was because she was the first one that you had slightly opened to ever since the incident, and Kiri felt pride in the fact that it was her. 

She was happy to know that you felt safe enough in her presence that you didn’t completely close yourself off whenever you were near her. 

Not long after Jake’s little outburst and a long trip to grandma Mo’at’s tent, she felt disappointment seeping deep within her heart once she couldn’t find anything physically wrong with you. There was nothing wrong in your system that drove you to act in such a way, and it annoyed her to no end that she could not do anything to help her first granddaughter. 

A trip to Norm’s lab was what had been recommended to Neytiri from Jake, and after a long time of overthinking it, she declared that there was no other way. Human technology was definitely more advanced than whatever the na’vi had, and maybe they’d have an answer for what Jake and Neytiri were silently looking for. 

Norm had said that he was no therapist, but it was obvious that the teasing and bullying of kids had affected you in worse ways than they would have imagined. 

And all the while you tried to ignore their sympathetic gazes as Norm explained these things to them. You didn’t want your parents to feel this way for you, you didn’t want to feel this way anymore. You didn’t like becoming an emotional wreck everytime that some stupid kid that you didn’t know made a comment about your different skin. 

Eventually, you grew to accept that the teasing would never cease as long as your vitiligo was part of you. And you also came to terms that your disorder would always be part of you, so what was the point of grieving over something that you couldn’t help? Therefor, you just grew away from it, accepting that maybe this was how you had to live your life. That you'd never experience that wholehearted love that your parents shared.

In the long run, your father and you had managed to come to good terms again. After months of longing silence, you were the first one that had made a move, pleading for his forgiveness because of how you had acted on that day. Though Jake was quick to stop you, putting aside his lack of confidence in the comforting domain as he held you tightly into his arms, apologising on his side. 

Now you stood at 17, arguments and disputes between your father and you now long forgotten. Your vitiligo was still very much there and visible upon your smooth skin, not that you had expected it to lessen in the few years that had passed anyway. You were slightly happier now, despite the kid’s teasing still being present and active, you tried to pay them less attention. 

It didn’t escape you that you were still ‘the ugliest girl in the clan’, but you’d pretend like it didn’t affect you for as long as you had to stay in this clan. You didn’t want for more trouble to rise in your home, so you played it off as though the words didn’t  affect you. When in reality, there were nights where you stayed up to watch the stars all up by yourself, your mind elsewhere as the soothing sound of the river flow calmed your nerves. You’d imagine a potential future with someone that loved you for what you were, with a couple of kids and a big home that would welcome you at the end of the day. 

A future where you’d have someone to kiss and call you pretty at your wake, but they were all just dreams after all. Some alternate reality that your mind had made up to deal with everything that was going on in your life and you had no other option than to just accept that fact. 

-

Upon dismounting your Ikran on the warm beach of Awa’atlu, you could already sense that your family’s presence wasn’t fancied. Your feet had not even had time to brush against the fine grains of sand before thousands of eyes were already turned towards you. Though being the people that you were, it was hard to feel uncomfortable under so many weary stares. However, something about some new sets of eyes ogling you all for the first time felt unsettling.

You stood straight between your two brothers, your rider’s mask still on your face as you tried to keep your posture up to prove that you feared them not.  A quick look around was enough to tell you that this place was beautiful, even though you hadn’t even visited the best parts of it yet. Though it was not home, it would do for now if it meant that staying here kept your family safe. 

The clan leaders were unaccepting at first, well at least Ronal was. It was clear that she didn’t want any of you here, and by her fierce stare, you were no exception. Her eyes visibly widened as she rounded your family, finally falling upon your frame. Her eyes explored your body with no shame, excluded of all crudeness. There was some sort of curiosity and disgust that swirled muddled up in her eyes as she examined you from head to toe. 

Ronal grabbed onto your forearm roughly, shoving you in front of your huddled family group so the whole clan could see you. You couldn’t help but lower your head to your chest in an attempt to hide from their sickening gazes, but their sounds of opposition fell loud to your ears. She pointed out your discoloured patches to the people as though it wasn’t visible upon first look. It made you feel little, the fact that it was people that didn’t even know you, judging you for how you looked. Judging you for the white patches of skin that covered your entire body like an art piece, but to them you were not worthy of that title. 

You could hear the growl of your mother in between all, and the one that Ronal sent her back in hostility. 

An intense feeling of dread was swirling through your chest, what if your family wasn’t given uturu because of you? What would happen then, would you be forced to look for another option of a temporary home? Or was this the only one you could afford from now? Never ending questions ran through your mind as you felt the soft touch of your mother’s hand upon your wrist, slowly pulling you back towards her as Ronal retook her place besides her mate. 

You couldn’t even look your mother in the face after that, too afraid and ashamed of what the Olo’eyktan’s judgement could be because of you. Though you missed the pitiful glances that your family had casted upon you, Tonowari had seemed to have compassion for your family, one that Ronal did not share but had to live within. 

Soon enough, Tonowari had introduced you to his entire family, and a friend of theirs that looked like the sweetest boy that you’ve ever met. He had a mop of curly hair sitting atop of his head, complimenting him well. 

Tsireya was the nicest, a literal guardian angel sent by Eywa herself to watch over your family. Her eyes held no judgement and her words were genuine, so you felt more than comfortable whenever you were with her. It didn’t escape you and your big brother that Lo’ak had already developed a crush on the girl, she was charming and heavenly, you couldn’t really blame him. 

But when an angel’s near, the devil strays not far behind, and he himself was Ao’nung. It was already bad enough sharing the same age and air as this absolute menace, given that he was just like his mother had made everything 10 times worse. He hated your family based on the minimal interaction that you had in those few minutes of introductions. To say that he had some sort of special hatred towards Lo’ak, Kiri and you was an understatement.

He seemed to loathe you even more based on the  fact that his father had picked him to train you, given that you need to adjust to the Metkayina ways. 

Despite everything, the first week in Awa’atlu was literal hell. It was hard to adapt no matter how much you all tried, and the rude eyes of the Metkayina followed you around like a bunch of predators. You were sick and tired of the attention, you just couldn’t escape it. It didn’t matter if it was here or back in the Omaticaya clan, you just wished that you could be invisible to the people.

Now that you’ve hit the 3 weeks mark, too much has happened for you to even recall properly. The amount of fights between Lo’ak and Ao’nung that Neteyam and you had to break apart was uncountable, and facing your father at the end of the day was something that you dreaded more than anything. Added to your mother’s constant nagging at you to stay low, because she feared of how the people would treat you if you did one wrong thing in their eyes. 

It wasn’t that she didn’t fear for her other kids’ safety as well, especially in a clan that she knew little about, with people that didn’t necessarily like you all. She was a little more wary about you, because if you had been treated badly in your previous clan, who knew what this one had in stock for you. She wasn’t blind to the constant staring each time that you’d leave the marui alongside her, she just didn’t like thinking about it. 

Neytiri prays every night for the Great-Mother to lift some burdens off your shoulders. To let you rest at night without having to worry about what other people are saying behind your back, to let you feel normal for just one night. Because she knew that no matter her words, there would always be a longing in your heart to be like them, like everyone else. 

“Do you think this one looks better?” Neytiri snaps her head towards you, watching as you hold a weaved top tightly to your chest. Stretched out across your bust like you were trying to show what it looked like without actually wearing it. Neytiri’s eyes moved towards a second pair that you held loosely by the fingers, before shrugging and choosing the one that was currently sprawled out across your torso. 

You took the unused one, throwing it towards your sister that was looking for a pair of her own. The top hit Kiri in her face, woven beads clanging against her forehead as your attack took her off guard. Quickly recovering, your mother watched with a sigh as the now-angry Kiri tried throwing it back on you, only to miss completely as you laughed hysterically. 

Kiri didn’t seem to have taken your little melee really joyfully, instead she looked like she was ready to murder you. Your laughter died out as you grabbed the top from its discarded position on the floor, walking now calmly towards your little sister. Neytiri couldn’t help the smile that grew upon her face as she watched you open the closed palms of your angry sister, delicately placing your piece of clothing into her hands as you said something to her. 

She knew how close Kiri and you were. She was different just as you were, even if she wasn’t covered with what looked like a bunch of stains. No, instead she was a ‘four fingered freak’ just like you were, quoted by the infamous Ao’nung himself. You both had eyebrows like your father, and Kiri’s biological mother. You were about in the same age category, with you being slightly older. So you both understood and trusted one like no other, and Neytiri knew that behind that grumpy personality of hers, Kiri loved you more than she would ever admit. 

“Mom? You okay?” The sound of her youngest daughter brought Neytiri out of her thinking again, shaking her head as she walked towards Tuk. Later that night there was a big feast that everyone was expected to be present to, and your family was no exception. Though your father was happy to be included, your mother still felt out of place, a little forced. 

-

A group of unruly teenage boys sat in front of a huge bonfire. It sizzled and popped, threatening to burn those who came too near as the wind blew it closer to them. The sound of raucous laughter resounded around the entire zone, but the night was busy and the area was booming with loud voices that engulfed their own. 

Ao’nung sat spaced out between his friends, his legs crossed out before him, a plate of half eaten fish in his hands. He was too busy laughing at whatever joke his friends would crack at every few minutes to even focus on getting his dinner finished. 

From the corner of his eyes, Ao’nung could make out a faint blur of your frame. You were sitting with your family, who they were sitting with…his? Ao’nung’s eyes grew in size as he fully turned his torso around to confirm whatever he had just seen. He watched you sit besides his sister, the both of you talking about something he couldn’t quite make up from afar. You were laughing with Tsireya too, you looked so happy. 

“Aye, brother!” Ao’nung turned his torso back towards his friends, slightly embarrassed of getting caught looking in your direction. Though the smug look on their faces was not what he had expected once he had turned back, and the roll of his eyes was what they had received. He looked back at his plate, raising a piece of fish up in his hands as he brought it to his mouth to eat. He nodded at the boy, signalling  for him to continue his sentence. 

“Aren't ya the one that’s been getting close to that Sully girl?” he nodded his head towards something past Ao’nung’s shoulders, and the boy froze as the laughter picked up again. This time it was louder, more genuine as they all turned their eyes towards you and your family. The boy only shrugged his shoulders at the accusations, nothing he could deny as they had seen it with their own eyes. 

He snarled at his friends once he heard them snigger in return, shutting them up all at once. Way to piss his mood up at the end of a good night, what a bunch of morons. 

“How about a challenge to finish this night right, huh?” Ao’nung ears picked up at the sound of it, visibly raising and turning out towards wherever the voice had came from. He picked his head up, now interested in some good play. Ao’nung had always been known for his big ego and competitive personality, a challenge was not something that he was about to let his friends win. He was going to beat them, no matter what it was. 

His friends exchanged mischievous glances, bumping shoulders together like a bunch of kids as they giggled. Ao’nung couldn’t tell if it was from the one glass of dandelion wine that they had downed earlier or from their sheer stupidity. Nevertheless, they recovered from their childish antics before the boy brushes the dust off of his knees. 

“How about you date that girl for a whole month!” The boy yelled out, a little too loud as a few heads from nearby families turned towards them. Ao’nung’s eyes widened at the demand, not even needing to ask for precisation to know who his friend was talking about. His face contorted in a swift act of disgust before his expression fell again, shaking his head as a ‘no’. 

The noise picked up again as a series of ‘boo’s and ‘awe’s resounded from their group, attracting attention once more. You were unaware of what was currently happening behind your back, instead focusing on hitting your brother’s shoulders playfully as you noticed the longing looks that he would send to Tsireya. 

“What i’m i even getting from this anyways?” Ao’nung quite didn't understand the whole point of this challenge, why would he even participate if he was the only one playing, it was no fun. 

“We haven’t decided yet but…,” he said, outstretching his hand out towards Ao’nung as he spoke. He hesitated before his group of friends, pondering on where really this whole thing would lead him to. It wasn’t like he had feelings for you yet anyways, so there was little to consider when it came to your side of things. “don’t tell me you’re scared of a little challenge?” 

“Looks like she’s already making buddy-buddy with your family,” the booming voice of another boy sent everyone into laughter again as the whole group turned to catch a glimpse of you. “Cmon, look at your future wife!” 

“You don't trust me bro? And here i thought that we were friends.'' The said boy crossed both arms over the area where his heart was, mocking offence as he stared straight into Ao’nung’s similar aqua eyes. There was a sliver of mischief still swirling through his iris, but the boy just shrugged it off. It wasn’t like Ao’nung was altruistic either, he was infamously known for his little shenanigans. 

Though when Ao’nung’s palmed hand met his friend’s under the eyes of Eywa, the dare was sealed and his mind was racing. Surely he didn’t care much about your feelings, he didn’t even seem to appreciate you as a person for that fact. But something about this sounded so, oh so wrong as he released his and his friend’s intertwined hands. But he had done it now, vowed before his group to fulfil his dare, and Ao’nung was never one to back down.

-

this is very fast paced and badly made because i had absolutely no time to write but i tried getting something out for yall🙁

tags: @youcantseem3 @timotheechalametishot @holysaladapricothero

[palioom]

Hellooo!! Just really wanted to say I absolutely love your fics they’re so good am always waiting for you to drop the next one 😩👌🏼

But just a suggestion!! I don’t know what it is but there’s something INCREDIBLY hot about a guy who really wants you to sit on his face 🥵 like he’s FERAL to give it to her and will go down for hours if he can and he will!! 😩👌🏼I don’t really have a specific situation in mind but I just need him to have a NEED to give the reader oral idk FKDKDKS

You can do whatever you want with this! Or don’t! Am grateful for anything 🥹

first of all I'm SO sorry with how long this took to upload! i LOVED the idea the second i saw it and I hope I could do your idea justice after such a long wait, I just didn't have the time for longer stuff with kinktober happening but thank you so much for giving me this idea!!

remedy against pain

summary: after being "gravely" injured, Oberyn knows exactly what would help him heal, and you are more than eager to give it to him.

pairing: oberyn martell x f!reader

word count: 4.9k

warnings: 18+ content; no use of y/n (but many, many nicknames); fluff & smut; oral (m & f receiving); multiple orgasms; overstimulation; squirting; face sitting; 69; one small slap on the ass

part of "the viper and the sun"

• masterlist •

When she was notified of Oberyn’s injury that sunny afternoon, she was worried at first. All sorts of grisly thoughts came into her head - thoughts of broken bones and bloody wounds. Another deep scar to worship later, once it had healed.

All she had been told was that he had been brought back to their shared bedchambers with an injured back and knee, sustained as he was practicing with their eldest daughter, Obara.

It was difficult to believed that a girl of eighteen years of age could injure her own father in such a grave manner that he had to stop and leave the training pits altogether.

But as the nurse who accompanied her talked more about his supposed suffering, she had to try and keep her oncoming laugh hidden. Coughing to stifle her laughter, the best rendition of worry etched onto her features when she heard of what truly ailed him.

A small, moderately deep cut on the knee and a large bruise on his back from when he fell after Obara had swiped him off his feet.

That old man.

Ever a penchant for the dramatics, the immediate notice of his quite severe injury an exaggeration like only he could procure. In grave danger to meet death, at least that was what he wished for her to believe.

Oberyn loved to exaggerate his ailments whenever she was around, keen to have his wonderful wife dote on and care for him like only she could. With her gentle hands and words, her tongue spinning the sweetest words to help him heal while he lamented about how much he had hurt himself.

She knew every time that things weren’t as bad as he made them out to be, at least not when she saw him. Before that, she would worry her head off, the most grim images in her head until she found out the truth. But she played along nonetheless, and sometimes she would even find it in herself to tease him.

“The Prince is in a lot of pain, my Princess.” The nurse informed her as they arrived at the huge double doors leading to their private chambers, seeming extremely worried. Oh, what a mean man Oberyn was sometimes, making everyone concerned for him all because he enjoyed the attention it gave him from his wife. “You ought to tread carefully.”

She chucked quietly, giving the woman in front of her a soothing smile.

“Thank you, I will make sure to treat my dear husband with utmost care.”

The nurse bowed her head before scurrying off again, leaving her to go inside their chambers.

Carefully she opened the huge doors, flanked by guards on the outside, stepping into the silence of the room. They had drawn some of the curtains so not too much light was flooding inside, dipping everything into hues of red and orange.

She could see him lying on the bed, a wet rag covering his eyes, propped up on some pillows behind him into a position halfway between sitting and lying down. Not looking too miserable, if she had to give an estimated guess from where she stood.

“Oh, my Viper.” She cooed as she came closer, watching how his entire demeanour shifted beneath her words. Suddenly he did look quite miserable, creases forming on his forehead and the corners of his mouth turning downward just slightly. Like their girls pretending to be sick so they would coddle them. She wasn’t quite sure if they learned from Oberyn or Oberyn from them. “My sweet, sweet Viper. Are you well?”

Sitting down on the side of the bed, right next to him, she took his warm, broad hand into hers, feeling the rough calluses on it. With the other, she reached up to remove the wet rag from his eyes.

“My lovely wife.” Oberyn groaned, looking back at her, blinking a few times to adjust to the sudden brightness that flooded his eyes. “My pain seems to ease in your presence, my Sun.”

She chuckled quietly, her thumb brushing over his knuckles while her other hand brushed back his dark, slightly damp hair, then trailed down his face to cup his cheek. Always with a slightly concerned look on her face, but he could see the small twinkle in her eyes.

Oberyn knew it would be hard to fool his clever wife, but he could still try.

“I am glad it does, my love.” She said, smiling at him as he put on the sickest expression he could. Of course he was in some pain, but Gods, how he exaggerated. “Does it hurt much, my fierce Viper?”

The phantom of a smile graced his features for just a moment, vanishing just as quickly as it had appeared.

Nevertheless, she caught it.

“Quite so, my Sun.” He answered, his piercing eyes holding her gaze, and for just the briefest moment, she believed the pain he was in. He made her believe, knowing her heart was too soft for him to truly doubt him. “The pain is nearly unbearable, if it wasn’t for you by my side, I would certainly perish.”

She leaned closer to him, placing a soft kiss onto his lips, light as a feather as he was obviously quite weak. Warm and a little chapped against hers, the bristles of his beard tickling her skin.

His lips chased hers as she drew back, having to stop himself from chasing after them further.

He was in pain, his back certainly did hurt, but not to the degree Oberyn made it out to be. 

“What would make you feel better, my sweet husband?” She cooed, sitting back up again. Still stroking his cheek and her pout bordering on mock concern.

His dark eyes truly began to sparkle at her question, his fingers flexing against hers. 

Oh, there were many different ideas he had about what would truly help him.

But there was one idea in particular that would ensure a speedy recovery.

“The taste of your sweet cunt, my love.” Oberyn said after a beat of silence, a small smirk on his lips. “Nothing would heal me more efficiently than that. Nothing.”

She remained quiet for a moment, her pout giving way to a smile.

“Oh, my love. You are too injured for that.” She tried to imagine him wanting to keep up the facade of being terribly hurt, but also wanting to roll onto his stomach and delve his tongue deep inside of her. As much as she liked the idea, she was more interested in seeing how Oberyn would like to go about this. “I wouldn’t want you to risk your back by helping you onto your stomach.”

His fingers tightened more around hers, a fiery desire settling inside of his eyes. Desire and lust and a need, pushing away all the traces of him being too hurt.

“And you certainly cannot kneel with your gravely injured knee.”

Clever thing.

He needed her cunt against his mouth, had been craving the embrace of her thighs around his head ever since he had woken in the morning. While she had laid beside him in bed, sunken in a peaceful slumber, her magnificent features traced by the rising sun.

But he had decided to wait until tonight, for she had slept so peacefully that he hadn’t wanted to disturb her. And the wait would have made things so much sweeter in his mind.

Imagining her taste so much that he swore he did eventually taste it.

Maybe that had been why Obara had knocked him over so effectively in the end.

“Straddle my face, my love.” He said, already moving to pull a few pillows from beneath his head and throwing them to the side, making it easier for her to position herself. “Please, my Sun. Don’t deny your husband the pleasure of suffocating between your wonderful thighs while drinking from you. Not while he is gravely injured.”

Gravely injured.

Her smile widened at his words, pulling his hand against her lips once more and kissing each of his knuckles. Slowly, deliberately. Never looking away from his eyes.

Oh, how dramatic he was. How could she deny him?

“Is that truly what would make you better, my Viper?” She asked, feeling the familiar heat pool in her stomach, the tingling on her skin and in her spine, wanting him but not wanting to cause him further injury. They both could get quite passionate, after all. “Are you certain?”

Oberyn chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled. If his back wasn’t hurting as much as it was, he simply would have lifted her on top of him, unable to wait any longer to have her.

“There is no better medicine than the cunt of a woman.” He replied, removing yet another pillow and reclining. Noticing how she almost gave into rolling her eyes at him. “Nothing better than the cunt of my sweet wife who is keeping me waiting, hurting.”

She removed her shoes before climbing onto the bed with a giggle, lifting her skirts as she straddled his chest and moved closer to where he needed her. Watching how his eyes sparkled with mischief, darting between her face and the apex of her thighs.

Oberyn found her movingly too slowly, his rough hands grabbing at her thighs and ass, pushing her along faster as a pained groan left him. Looking up at her, he found her looking back down at him with a raised brow, but he simply grinned, her knees finally on either side of his head, but she was still sitting on his chest.

“Oberyn.” She warned, not wanting him to be in more pain because of how eager he was. Her husband would break his neck if it meant he could fuck her somehow. 

He simply chose to ignore her, coaxing her with his hands on her ass, his thick fingers digging into the silk of her dress.

“Come here, my Sun.” His voice was dark and smooth, desperate almost. So close to what he wanted, if only she moved. “Let me have you, I need your sweet cunt on my tongue, your sweet juices.”

She giggled, letting him guide her over his face, lifting her skirts again as she hovered over him. He looked ravenous and she could feel his hot breath against her folds, his nails forming faint crescent marks on her skin.

Oberyn didn’t even wait, simply pulling her down onto him, groaning at the surprised noise that left her; half moan half gasp. Expertly licking a stripe through her folds, his tongue found her clit and toyed with it. Flicking against it before he sucked it into his mouth with another groan, her hips bucking into him as she grabbed the headboard for purchase.

“Oh, Oberyn.” She moaned, grinding into him, one of her hands tangling into his hair and tugging on it. The vibrations of his noises travelled up her spine, shivers breaking out over her skin. Eyes closed and her head thrown back. “Gods, yes!”

While he started out slow at first, he quickly picked up speed, eating her like a man starved as his tongue sweeped lower, fucking into her quivering hole, his nose bumping against her clit over and over. 

Like he had been denied this for centuries.

“You taste fucking delectable.” He groaned against her, one of his hands leaving her hips and moving up to grope at her breast. Ignoring how his back hurt, just needing her and her sweet noises as she pressed herself down harder onto his face. Just how he wanted it. “Exactly what I needed, my Sun.”

His fingers pinched her hardened nipple, making her whine and stutter in her movements for a second, her own tugging on his dark hair harder. 

This truly was his heaven, his wife’s weight on top of him, her body freely grinding against his tongue while he took whatever he could get, lapping at her as if his life depended on it. As if her juices were the only remedy against his pain, a concoction no one else could prepare but her.

Suffocating between her warm thighs, her wonderful sounds muffled by them but still loud enough for him to hear.

He would have to make a habit out of this whenever he was sick.

But he needed her release above all, feeling how she pulsed around his tongue, how her movements became more erratic, leading him to double his efforts. He came back to focus on her clit, slowly becoming aware of how hard he was beneath the covers, just from devouring her like this.

“Please, my Viper.” She moaned, the words hitching on her breath as she looked back down at him, so close to reaching her peak. He looked gorgeous in the red and orange lights. “Oh, how grateful I am it wasn’t your talented tongue which was injured.”

He smirked, lightly grazing his teeth over her clit before sucking it between his lips once more, swiftly feeling her reach her peak right after.

Trembling on top of him as she fell into herself slightly, she still moved her hips against his face as his tongue eagerly lapped up her release. His name tumbled from her lips like a prayer, over and over as his fingers dug into her ass, keeping her close to him even as the pleasure started to border on pain.

And she knew, as he didn’t stop and simply kept going, that he hadn’t had enough of his remedy yet. Still needed more to sate himself, to heal. Circling her clit, fucking into her sensitive hole, all while he began to writhe underneath her.

Oberyn loved the shift in her sounds, more on the side of painful pleasure which he knew she loved, her senses heightened and burning a path of desire inside of her as he kept going. Taking what he needed from her, trying to keep his hips still as a sharp pain shot up his back each time they rutted up into nothing, against the thin covers which provided little relief.

She took a glance over her shoulder, her hips stopping just for a moment as she saw his cock straining against the covers. Thick and hard, all from him burying his face inside her cunt, aching to be touched.

Wondering if he would end up begging for her touch, knowing he derived just as much pleasure from eating her cunt like he would with his cock inside of it. That’s what made him so wonderful, being able to give and receive pleasure just from that alone.

Choosing to ignore it and see if he actually would end up begging her, she bit her lip and turned back around, his tongue swiftly working her up again, pain and pleasure bleeding together into one. A steady buzz that had her nerves aflame and her mind swimming, torn between shying away from and pressing herself down harder onto his eager and warm tongue.

He hurled her into her next orgasm, her juices trickling down his chin and neck while he hummed into her. His own sounds bordered on pain, making her concerned amidst the haze surrounding her like a thick fog, but she knew fully well that he knew his limits.

Hopefully.

Oberyn needed her desperately, the pain in his back almost forgotten in the nagging presence of his aching cock, the friction against the thin sheets doing nothing for him. Wanting to lap at her sweet, swollen cunt but also needing her on him somehow, engulfing him.

Her hands, her mouth, her tits - he would take anything as long as it meant he could keep his face buried between her warm thighs.

Reluctantly he pushed her away from his mouth just briefly, latching onto the soft, scarred inside of her thigh. Her tiger’s stripes as he called them affectionately, from carrying his children and the weight gain that came along with that.

“My Sun.” He groaned, tanned fingers digging into her skin and his eyes closing briefly as he dug his teeth into her thigh, humming. Feeling like he was getting drunk just from her, or going crazy. Maybe even both. “Gods, I need you.”

A giggle left her through the haze in her mind, catching her breath in the brief moment of respite. She loved when he got so drunk on her that he couldn’t let his lips rest even for just a second.

“You have me, Oberyn.” She whispered, flames still licking at her insides, her blood boiling hot. Acting as though she didn’t know about the painful erection hiding beneath the covers. “I would think you have me, your tongue was deep in my cunt just moments ago.”

Oberyn groaned again, more kisses and licks and bites bestowing the inside of her thighs in a frenzy. His wife could be such a mean woman sometimes, teasing him, making him wait.

Maybe this was his punishment for acting sicker than he was.

“My cock demands your attention, my Sun.” He rasped, his eyes piercing and full of lust. His hips rutted upwards as if to emphasize his point, a deep grunt following the movement. One of pain, and it made her wonder whether she should be doing this with him in the first place. “My sweet, please. I need to find relief in you.”

Hearing him plead her to pleasure him only fanned the flames inside of her, a whine escaping her lips as her own hips bucked up. She didn’t want to keep him waiting, but just how desperate could Oberyn become?

“But you need my cunt, my Prince.” She said, brushing his hair back without a care in the world. Like she wasn’t burning up from the inside and like he wasn’t aching for her. “How will you heal if you engulf your cock inside of it? What other remedy do we have that is better than my cunt?”

Oberyn licked his lips, regretting that he had taught her to be so naughty.

“My Sun, don’t tease your bruised and sick husband like this.” He admonished, attempting to move her, but the sharp pain in his back swiftly reminded him that he shouldn’t. And he really did not want to miss her wet heat just yet, needing more of her. “I will take anything you can give me, as long as you do. Please, my darling.”

She giggled and Oberyn immediately knew that she was playing with him. Making a twisted little game out of his injury.

He would have to punish her once he was healed enough.

“Does your cock need me so desperately, my Viper?” She asked, laughing breathlessly. “I don’t wish to break my sweet husband in half, you are so gravely injured already.”

The sound that rumbled in his chest was akin to a growl, his patience for her games wearing thin as his dick throbbed with need in between his legs. Aching and desperate for her touch.

“My sweet, please.” He whined, his eyebrows knitting together as he looked up at her. Begging her with his eyes, so full of lust and hurt and desperation that she melted underneath them. “Turn around and let me feel the divinity of your mouth and tongue, my Sun. Help me heal, my Princess.”

She smirked, swiftly moving off of his face before turning around and straddling it again, feeling his strong hands grip her thighs as she leaned down. 

Biting her lip as she slowly peeled back the thin, orange fabric of the covers, she let her fingers wander over his hot, tanned skin dipped in orange hues. Feeling his muscles twitch beneath it, teasingly slow as he groaned into her middle, tongue already back on her.

“Don’t tease your husband, my dear.” He whined, digging his fingers into her skin harder in an attempt to make her move faster. “The punishment for this crime is severe.”

It did nothing to stop her teasing, only moaning when his teeth nipped at her folds, her fingers finally uncovering him. Erect and red and angry, the head weeping for her and throbbing as she ran a finger along the length of it with a featherlight touch.

Tracing the thick veins, his hips squirming and his moans muffled by her, she couldn’t help the small laugh that left her. Only keeping him waiting a little longer, she finally granted him his wish, kissing the head of his cock and tasting the saltiness of the pre-cum.

“Oh, Gods.” She heard him groan behind her before his tongue dove into her, eliciting a high pitched moan from her when the pleasurable pain returned. “You gorgeous thing, my Sun.”

Just as eager as he was at the beginning, lapping at her like a man starved, home from long travels through the desert. His hands keeping her squirming hips in place.

She slowly let spit dribble down his cock, wrapping her fingers around it before she pressed her lips against the head over and over, her tongue teasing the sensitive skin with tiny licks before finally flattening against it.

When she finally wrapped her lips around him, he bucked up into her mouth, a whine sounding from between her thighs. Immediate relief spread through him but he needed more, both on his tongue as well as his cock, her head bobbing up and down. Her thighs began to tremble, the slick sounds of her cunt as well as her mouth on him pushing her closer to the edge as she took him deeper.

Her hand wandered to his balls, heavy and warm as she fondled them, just how Oberyn liked it. Taking him deeper still, hitting the back of her throat and feeling another groan against her middle, travelling up her spine.

So damn close, forgetting to move for a moment as she concentrated on the fiery sensation that threatened to set her body ablaze again, closing her eyes and whimpering around him.  The tightness of her throat only spurred him on, her weight on top of him as he finally hurled her over the edge, her sounds coming out as delicious vibrations around his cock.

Yet not stopping, giving her ass a soft smack to spur her back into moving, kneading the soft flesh.

She moved in earnest now, letting him slip down her throat and stilling for a few moments before simply teasing the dark head, kissing and licking at it with vulgar wet sounds.

How she wished to look at him right now, see his dark, piercing eyes glazed over with lust and need and watch him watch her devour his thick cock. Her cunt pulsed at the thought, his talented tongue keeping her nerves aflame, the pain it elicited only helping in hurling her closer to yet another orgasm.

“One more, my sweet.” He groaned, so close himself as her mouth worked over his sensitive cock. “One more for me, let me heal myself through you.”

A sharp whine left her, hips bucking against his face.

“One more for you.” She breathed out, her fingers wrapping around the shaft again and suckling at the head. Delirious and repeating what he had said. “One more, Oberyn- Please-”

She was unsure if she needed him more than he needed her right now, still in awe of how long he could stave off on his peak despite how sensitive and worked up he was.

When the telltale twitching of his cock set in, her tongue continuously flicking over the slit, she felt him focus on her clit, closing his lips around it and sucking hard. Just needing to swallow down more of her.

“Oberyn-” She moaned, dragging out his name as she spilled all over his face, her eyes rolling to the back of her head, trembling on top of him.

It triggered his own peak, groaning into her while he finally felt that sweet release wash over him, dulled by the sharp pain shooting up his spine. Still, nothing could ruin this, no pain would ruin the feeling of his wife’s cum all over his face while his own cock twitched and pulsed furiously.

Some of the white ropes laid across her cheek before she wrapped her lips around him once more with a groan and swallowed the rest eagerly. The salty taste spreading over her tongue, fully Oberyn.

Her mind swimming at the sensation and her body boneless.

They remained like this for several moments, his tongue tenderly licking at her once the waves had stopped, noticing the subtle twitch from just how often he had brought her to a peak. Her cheek rested on his muscular, thick thigh, still tracing the veins on his softening cock before clumsily rolling off of him and onto her back.

A breathless laugh left her, taking a moment to close her eyes and take in the warm feeling that simmered in her body, her hand finding his, their fingers intertwining.

A soothing gesture, grounding her in reality as she felt like floating in water.

Oberyn sat up slightly, wincing quietly as he took in her face, some of his cum still on her cheek, red and orange dancing across her skin from the curtains and he couldn’t help but smile. More than satisfied with what just happened.

Never would he tire from seeing his wife covered with his cum, the only sight better than this being when it trickled out of her swollen cunt.

“Thank you, my Sun.” He said, his thumb brushing over her fingers soothingly. Almost forgetting about his injuries as he laid here with her. “The copious amounts of medicine you provided me with are already showing their effect.”

She laughed at that, and the sound only helped to mend his bruised body, watching her open her eyes and sit up. Stopping to take in his wet face, the now tired but satisfied eyes along with the smallest curl of his lips.

The sight was something she would never tire of, her core still throbbing. So handsome, with the lines on his face which began to form, the first few silver streaks in his hair and beard.

“I am glad I was of help, my Viper.” She giggled, raising her unoccupied hand to swipe his cum off of her face before sucking it off her finger. “I generously received a little bit of my own medicine. Though, my aches only began after ingesting it.”

Oberyn laughed, loud and hearty as he pointed for her to lay down next to him. Needing to feel her body, though he wished he could bury his face in between her thighs for just a little longer, slower this time and not rushing things.

She shuffled around, bending down to kiss him languidly and tasting herself on his tongue. Then finally laying next to him just how he wanted, pulling the covers over them.

“I think in your case, my sweet,” he began, wrapping his arm around her and ignoring the pain that came with it. Kissing her forehead and just keeping her close. “It is simply that you are ageing.”

A playfully shocked gasp left her, hitting his chest with a quick swat and laughing at the exaggerated grunt he let out. Pretending as though he had been struck by something much worse than his beloved wife’s hand.

“How dare you treat your husband, your Prince, like such when he is in terrible, terrible agony?” Oberyn asked with a laugh, wishing he could crush her against him. “Do you not wish for me to be well, my love?”

She nuzzled against his neck with a giggle, peppering his jaw with kisses as she inhaled his scent. Still smelling like the training pits, earthy and sweaty.

“I wish for my husband to stop the dramatics.” This sweet banter had always been her favourite, laughing and jesting with him like no other. “Become the feared Red Viper everyone knows instead of letting your daughter of eighteen years of age knock you off your feet.”

The grip on her hip tightened and she giggled more when she realized that he could certainly not do as he pleased with her just now. Secretly she loved the dramatics, always worried about him but unable to stop her loud mouth and her teasing.

“Oh, sweet wife…” Oberyn sighed, looking at her. What a funny thing she was, too swift with her dangerous tongue. “Once your mortally wounded husband is healed, there will be a punishment in order.”

He paused for a moment, squeezing her hip harder, delighting in the warm flesh in the palm of his hand.

“A punishment and an apology. Perhaps both could be the same.”

She became excited at the plethora of things he could do, though she was quite certain about what he meant, her clit throbbing in anticipation.

“First you should heal, my love.” She said, entirely genuine, pushing her dirty thoughts aside as her hand brushed over his stomach. Warm and soft, tender and the most perfect place to rest her head on usually. “Please rest, let the medicine I gave you work its wonders.”

He kissed her forehead again, allowing his lips to linger there as he closed his eyes and breathed her in. The scent of oranges filling him, his body melting in her presence.

Surely, there was no sweeter remedy than his wife and her delicious cunt, the sweet relief he found in between her thighs.

[scribblesofagoonerr]

The journey to recovery begins now.

Heres the next part! ✌🏼

Let me know what you think? I have a lot of time on my hands currently unable to move much, so this is the result!

Credit to @alotofpockets for giving me the courage to continue to write!

Pairings: beth mead x teen reader, vivianne miedema x teen reader, arsenal wfc x teen reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

You never truly appreciated how much you took your knees for granted until it was too late, leaving you to confront the stark reality of their absence during the grueling weeks that followed after your surgery.

The initial stages of your rehabilitation post-surgery, each day felt like an uphill battle against the constraints of limited mobility. Every single step was a painful reminder of your body’s fragility, which left you teetering on the edge of frustration.

The simple tasks you once took for granted now felt like insurmountable challenges, even the thought of walking a few steps sent a wave of discomfort radiating through your knee, serving as a constant reminder of your newfound vulnerability.

Reflecting on the moment that led to this predicament, you can’t help but regret it as your knee injury could have been avoided. Perhaps if you had chosen a different path that fateful night, the outcome would have been drastically different.

“Where are you off to?” Viv’s concerned voice broke through your thoughts, she had virtually been watching over you like a hawk since your return from the hospital.

“I’m just going to the toilet” You muttered, struggling to get up from the sofa but you were just too stubborn to ask for any sort of help.

Vulnerability was something you’d never dealt well with, it was a trait that was deemed unacceptable in your previous harsh upbringing. Weakness was a luxury that you couldn’t afford, it was a lesson that had been ingrained in you from childhood.

You could practically hear the stern cold voice of your biological father as if he were standing directly behind you, whispering into your ear.

“Do you need a hand?” Beth’s offer was laced with genuine concern, finding it difficult to watch you struggle unwillingly.

“No” You snapped, the frustration bubbling to the surface; You hadn’t meant to be so horrible, it was just sometimes easier to revert back to a defensive coping mechanism that you had been conditioned to over the years as you grew up.

“Just know I’m here if you need me” Beth’s reassurance hung in the air, a lifeline amidst the uncertainty.

“Just shout for us if you need anything, okay?” Viv chipped in, reminding you as she watched you limp off in the direction of the bathroom, although there was a weight of worry lingering incase you somehow hurt yourself in there.

Beth noted her girlfriends’ vigilant gaze and softened her expression, “She’ll be alright, Viv. She’s only gone to the loo, remember?” she joked, amusedly.

“I know, I am just worried in case she aggravates her knee or something” Viv admitted her concern, anxiously biting her bottom lip, “She really needs to be cautious” she added.

“It’s okay to be worried, but we have to let her do things for herself” Beth replied, offering comfort to alleviate her girlfriend's anxiety about you, “If needs help then she’ll shout, remember?” she reminded her.

Viv folded her arms, still visibly worried for you as she tried to listen out in case there’s a sudden slip in the bathroom, “I just can’t help but feel anxious, Beth. What if she hurts herself in there?” she repeats her worries.

“I understand, liefje” Beth placed a comforting hand on Viv’s shoulder, “But we have to let her have some independence too. We can’t smother her with our concerns” she explained to the Dutch woman.

“You’re right, I just need to remind myself of that– I just hate that she is going through this. It’s not fair” Viv mumbled, shaking her head.

Beth gently took a hold of Viv’s hand and squeezed it, “It really isn’t fair, but we’re going to do all that we can to support her, every step of the way, no matter what” she declared.

Deep down, you knew your injury wasn’t anyone’s fault, yet your reflex was to just continuously push your loved ones away once more. 

Despite your attempts, it seemed futile, especially with surprise visits becoming a regular occurance.

Apparently, today was no exception.

Unable to start your rehab anytime soon, you found yourself wrapped up in self-pity on your bed, cocooned in blankets and lost in a Netflix TV show that you had zero interest in but since your remote has gone AWOL, it left you with no choice but watch it, but at least Myle was there for company.

“Y/N/N/! We’re here!” Kyra’s unmistakable voice cut through the air, announcing her arrival.

“Kyra, she might be asleep” Alessia’s voice followed through, a touch of caution in her tone.

“Well, she might not be” Kyra retorted, barging into your room with her usual typical energy to find you awake, “See, Less? Told you that she wouldn’t be asleep!” she grinned back at the blonde.

“Wouldn’t have much chance with the way you’re shouting” You mumbled, acknowledging both of their presence.

Alessia offered an apologetic smile, “Hey, Y/N/N. We just wanted to come and see how you’re doing” she explained.

“Oh, you know? I’m fantastic” You words are laced with sarcasm.

“Well, we brought snacks” The blonde attempted to lift your dampened mood, gesturing to the bag of the treats that they had brought you.

“Wonderful” You barely entertain the idea of the sugary treats as you keep your gaze fixed on the ceiling, disinterested.

“I can tell she’s definitely excited about that” Kyra mocked your enthusiasm, taking hold of the bag from Alessia’s hands.

Alessia shot Kyra a warning look before turning back to you, concern etched on her face, “Hey, Y/N/N, are you okay? Truthfully?” she questioned.

“Just fuckin’ peachy” You sighed dramatically, still refusing to meet their gazes, dismissing them with a wave, “How’d you guys get in, anyway?” you asked, changing the subject.

“Beth let us in before she left” Kyra explained, perching on the end of the bed.

“Oh” You mumbled in agreement.

“Someone’s feeling grumpy today” Kyra teased, her tone dripping with sarcasm as she started to delve through the bag and pull out a packet of sweets.

You snatched the packet away, tearing it open with unnecessary force, “Wouldn’t you  be if you couldn’t walk with out assistance?” The frustration was evident in your tone of voice.

Kyra raised her hands in mock surrender although the mischief still sparkled in her eyes, “Noted. I’ll steer clear of touchy subjects” she quipped, exchanging a glance with Alessia.

Undeterred, Alessia took a seat beside you, mindful of your injury, “I get it that you’re frustrated, Y/N/N” she said softly, attempting to connect with you.

You rolled your eyes with the irritation simmering, “Well, excuse me for not being in the mood for a pep talk” you remark, your tone sharp.

“Come on, lighten up, mate” Kyra interjected, reclining against the bed’s end with a playful grin.

Ignoring her, you continued to sulk, stuffing more sweets into your mouth  with unnecessary force, not in the mood for conversation.

Alessia sighed as her concern deepend, “I just… I thought maybe you could use someone to talk to. We know what you’re going through is difficult right now” she ventured cautiously.

“I don’t want to talk about it” You snapped, your frustration boiling over, “I just want to talk, that’s all I want. I want to be able to get out of this damn bed and feel normal again!”

“Well if you’re looking for a miracle, I think you’re in the wrong place” Kyra couldn’t resist a quip to wind you up.

“Kyra” Alessia’s reprimand was gentle but firm, signaling an end to the teasing.

A tense silence settled over your room, broken only by the sound of your frustrated sighs and the crinkle of the sweet packet that Kyra continued to help herself too.

“Listen, Y/N/N, we’re here for you, okay?” Alessia told you with a gentle voice, “Whatever you need, whether it's someone to talk to or just in silence together, we’re here” she stated, determinedly.

You met her gaze, your eyes reflecting a mix of frustration and gratitude, even if you were sometimes way too stubborn to admit it, “Thanks, Alessia” you muttered, the harshness of your voice starting to dull as you realised that it wasn’t any good to take your anger out on your team mates, who only wanted to help you.

Sensing the shift in atmosphere, Kyra leaned forward as her playful demeanour was replaced with genuine concern, “Seriously mate” she said, her voice uncharacteristically serious, “We hate seeing you like this. Is there anything we can do to help?” she asked.

You hesitated to answer, you were torn between your desire for independence and the comfort of having your friends by your side, “I don’t know” you admitted finally, your voice wavering slightly, “I just… I just hate feeling so helpless, you know?” 

Alessia reached out, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder as she gently pulled you into her embrace, “It’s okay to feel that way” she said softly, “But you’re not alone in this. We’ll all help you get through it together” she promised you.

For a moment, the weight of your injury felt a little lighter, the burden now shared amongst your friends who refused to let you face it alone.

“Thanks, Lessi. Thanks, Kyra” You mumbled, burying your head in her chest as you allowed yourself to lean on them for their support, knowing no matter how tough the road ahead might be, you wouldn’t have to walk in alone, “Could one of you please pass me the remote? I don’t know what I’m watchin’ but it’s so boring” you muttered, complaining which made the two of them laugh.

© scribblesofagoonerr

[in1-nutshell]

I AM SO SORRY TO HEAR THAT!! D:

But my request is a SG version of Ophelia if she somehow did survived the optimus attacked!

Cuz I saw the one concept of the SG thing and I am really infested :00

SG! Ophelia is here!

Hope you enjoy!

What if... SG! Ophelia had survived

SFW, Platonic, Familial, Hinted romance, Cybertronian reader

SG!

Based off of TFP SG.

Ophelia originally was offlined by Nemesis Prime.

Blasted in the chassis from being held by her neckcables in front of an audience of Cons.

But instead of being blasted, Ophelia had grabbed a piece of shrapnel and plunged it straight into his joints.

The Prime screamed letting her go.

She wanted return straight to the Decepticon base, but there were too many Autobots in the area.

Ophelia managed to find a old escape pod and hid inside.

She figured hiding out in an old pod would be safe enough until the crowds thinned out.

… except the pod was fully operational and had activated it.

Ophelia was screaming when the pod suddenly shot into the sky.

Soon enough Ophelia went into stasis.

The Cons reported back that Ophelia had gone missing from Nemesis’s attack.

Megatron wanted to send troops in to look for her, but they were severely outnumbered and needed to retreat.

Megatron sitting in the Nemesis. Soundwave and Starscream approach him. Soundwave gently putting a servo on his shoulder: “Hey… We’re all worried about how she’s doing Meg’s. But she’s a strong bot, probably one of the most stubborn ones too, she’ll be fine.” Megatron: “…I should have been there.” Starscream now sitting by his side: “Megatron—” Megatron: “I should have been there!” Starscream: “Yet you weren’t and there is nothing we can do about that!” The three of them fall into silence. Starscream: “… I am sorry Megatron, but that is the truth. You weren’t there and we cannot change that. All we can do now is hope that wherever Ophelia is, that she is safe.” Megatron looks at Starscream and Soundwave. Megatron: “… I apologize for my outburst.” Starscream pats his shoulder before starting for the exit. Megatron: “Thank you, both of you.” Starscream nods his helm. Soundwave gives him a side hug: “Anytime Megatron, anytime.”

Ophelia was always on Megatrons mind when he wasn’t thinking about the war.

Wondering where did his sparkling go.

Meanwhile, Ophelia’s pod had crash landed on Earth, more specifically in the Artic.

No way to open the pod, she stayed in stasis for the following years.

Time skip to Cons being on Earth…

Thanks to a new scan, the Decepticon’s managed to find something Cybertronian under a thick layer of ice, appearing to be some sort of pod.

The pod was brought on board and sent to the med bay for further examination with Knockout and Breakdown.

Once most of the ice was melted, Knockout noticed something moving inside and motioned Breakdown to call for Megatron.

Which was immediately followed by a small pede kicking the pods door open.

Ophelia wheezed a bit clearing her vents before looking around.

Breakdown up and fainted.

Knockout was close behind but managed to stiffen up to do his job.

He welcomed Ophelia back while examining her for any potential injuries.

A few minutes later Soundwave came in with some of the reports that Knockout needed when his visor landed on Ophelia.

She smiled happily and waved at him.

Every bot near to med bay heard the scream that Soundwave let out

Soundwave nearly rammed into Knockout, who was saved at the last minute by a barely conscious Breakdown.

He wrapped his tentacles and arms around the smaller bot and held her closely while slightly sobbing.

Starscream and Megatron soon came running in wondering what had happened to their third in Command.

Megatron felt time stop when he saw Ophelia in Soundwave’s arms.

Ophelia literally leaped out of Soundwave’s grasp and into Megatron’s open arms.

Megatron went down on his knees hugging his daughter, a few tears escaping as he held her tighter.

Ophelia patting her father’s neckcables softly. Megatron finally lets go a bit and places her on the med slab. Megatron: “Ophelia… I’m so—” Ophelia: “Meg’s if you apologize, I’m going to have to stop you.” Megatron: “But I should have—” Ophelia: “It was my mission. Things just got a bit messy here and there. And Sure I missed a few dozen years, but that doesn’t change the fact that it wasn’t your fault.” Megatron looked like he was going to protest but stopped and smiled. He turns to Knockout. Megatron: “How is she?” Knockout: “The prolong exposure to the stasis pod, specifically this model can have some side effects in balance for a few days. Not to mention the previous wounds that need to be fixed. I highly suggest she stay o the Nemesis until she is back to her normal state.” Ophelia: “Aww! I wanted to go and bash some bots!” Soundwave pats her helm. She playfully swats it away. Megatron: “You heard the medic Ophelia, only some of the ships work until further notice, am I clear?” Ophelia looked like she was going to protest before something caught her optics making her quiet. Ophelia: “Yeah… sure I’ll stay. Only ship duty things, right?” Megatron a bit confused by the lack of argument: “Yes…” Ophelia nods slowly with a smile on her face.

This sudden lack of argument puzzled many of the high commanding Cons for days.

Usually, Ophelia would argue with Megatron about fighting out on the field despite her stature.

The lack of any resistance was almost frightening when several days past and not one complain about fighting outside came from her.

It was Soundwave who came up with a theory while looking through the security cameras.

Soundwave zooming on Ophelia’s face on the day of her return. With a quick scan, he followed where her gaze went to. A couple of Vechicons were passing, nothing special. Soundwave: “Unless…” Soundwave pulls up several videos of Ophelia working around the ship talking to one of the Vechicons in the previous video. Soundwave: “No…” Soundwave pulls a live video of Ophelia talking to the Vechicon. Ophelia was on some crates and leaning on the wall talking to the Vechicon. Ophelia: “So Steve, did you get a new paintjob because you are looking fantastic today.” Steve completely oblivious: “Oh no, I accidentally got caught in a rainstorm before coming on board.” Ophelia: “I bet I can help you get clean.” Steve, still oblivious: “I don’t think you can reach me in the wash racks.” Soundwave: “… well… This should be good.”

[d0wnb4df0rf1cm3n]

you're on your own kid.

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You had a rough childhood, what with an absent father and a piece of shit mother. When a family dinner goes wrong, how do you stop your brain from spiraling? How do you convince yourself you're not alone? A certain blue-eyed, metal-armed avenger, of course.

Word Count: 3.3K

Warnings: Eating Disorders/Weight Related Talk, Blood, Injury, Kinda Self Harm, Child Abuse [PLEASE DO NOT READ IF THESE TOPICS MAKE YOU UNCOMFORTABLE!!!]

Author's Note: I don't really know what this is. Sorry, I've been MIA for so long. Not my best work. Sorry.

You squirmed in your seat, fidgeting with your sleeves. It was awkward being at home after so long. You hadn't been home for four years almost - and it had probably been even longer since you'd sat at this table. Your mother sat across the table from you - her gaze heavy on your head. Heavy is the head that wears the crown, your brother had joked.

He was sitting next to you, his knee gently brushing against yours. A placating movement. He was trying to keep the peace - enjoying the first meal that you had had as a family in a long while. You don't know what it was that made you seek them out. Maybe if you had waited a week, you would have thought about the facts, rather than the feelings. Maybe if you had waited a week, you wouldn't be sitting here with the weight of the world on your shoulders.

You sat in silence, playing with the food on your plate. Your mother was of the almond variety, weighing out plates before passing them around the table. You didn't have much to talk about. Things hadn't ended well the last time the two of you spoke.

Your brother chimed in with the odd question - 'How's your gardening coming along, mom?' or 'How's the new job, sis? What's it like working for the Avengers?'. You'd humour him until your mother's disapproving stares became too much and then you'd shut up. He'd give you a sad sort of pitying smile, before returning to his food.

Dinner was long - even it was less than the traditional three courses. Your brother packed up some extra food, and took it home - he only lived about a half mile away so it made sense for him to go home. You made to go with him but your mother insisted you stay with her. "I made up your room, just the way you like it."

You doubted it. But you smiled anyway and hugged your brother tightly. He whispered that 'you would be fine' and 'it's only one night' and maybe for a second you believed him. As soon as he left, you headed to bed, claiming that 'The trip was long, ma, I'm super tired.'

The look on her face screamed that she didn't believe you. But she waved you good night and headed to the kitchen to find her favourite bottle of scotch.

You opened the door to your childhood bedroom to find it almost the same. The pink walls and bedcovers were suffocating, the blinds drawn shut to create this overwhelming feeling of being trapped. You were. Trapped.

You took your jumper off, laid it over your vanity chair, and jumped onto the bed. It was comfortable, but lying there staring at the ceiling brought back all the horrible memories you tried to suppress. Diet pills and weighing scales, small plates and vomiting, screaming and crying, sirens and hospital bills. Tears streamed down your face as curled up onto your side.

It was almost midnight when you heard your mother walk up the stairs. You knew she was drunk - her steps were loud and out of sync, and the bottle in her hand frequently tapped the banister as she tried to stabilise herself on it. You half expected her to keep walking, cross the landing, and fall dead asleep on her bed.

Instead, your door creaked open and you came face to face with her. Her glassy eyes were rimmed with red - she'd been crying too. Her eyes raked over you and suddenly you wished you'd never come back at all.

"Such a shame," she whispered, "You could have been so much more."

"Ma?"

"You were always... the best. The prettiest. The skinniest. You could have been incredible. Instead, you are... nobody."

Her words cut deep but you tried to ignore them. You were somebody. You worked for the Avengers, you were a top-level agent for SHIELD. You helped save the world.

"I tried my best. To help you. But you were ungrateful," Your mother stalked closer, her sadness giving way to anger, "conceited, convinced that you could be anything more than what I made you. But you were wrong. I created you. Without me, THERE IS NO YOU." She launched the bottle at your head and it shattered at the wall behind you.

She kept screaming, but you tuned her out, slipping off the bed and grabbing your jumper and keys. You ran past her, shoving her hard as she tried to grab you and ran out to your car. She watched you go screaming abuse after you, telling you to 'never step foot inside her house again.' You weren't planning to.

You drove like a madman back to upstate - traffic was pretty light considering the ungodly hour. You parked haphazardly - Tony would probably murder you for it in the morning but you couldn't find it within yourself to care. You trudged upstairs, footfalls far too heavy for someone is literally a superspy, but this was your home. You weren't running from anyone in here.

You were so stuck in your own head that you didn't realise that Bucky was sitting in the living room, watching as you walked into the kitchen. He'd heard your footsteps and he was worried. You never walked that heavily.

"Everything ok, doll?"

You looked up at him, not registering a word he said. He stood up and walked over to you, fingers reaching up to stroke your face.

"You good?" He whispered, his forehead almost touching yours.

You pulled away from his touch, even though your body was screaming for you to collapse into his open arms. "Yeah, Buck, fine. See you in the morning for training." You stepped past him, heading for the stairs.

"Yeah, doll. See you in the morning."

The morning came around far quicker than you'd hoped. You had barely slept, tossing and turning all night, your mother's words ringing through your head.

Eventually, you realised it was a futile effort. You might as well get up and be productive. You found yourself in the gym just as the sun came up, face to face with a heavy bag. You clenched your wrapped fists before shaking the sleep out of your system.

Your hits were precise, measured, calculated. If there was one thing no one could fault you for, it was your skills. You were an impeccable agent. If only your mum could see that. You took your rage out on the heavy bag, pouring every ounce of resent in your body into your punches. Sweat beaded on your forehead, the exertion making your breaths heavier and your knuckles sting. You kept punching, time slipping away from you.

You heard the door to the gym open, and someone was talking. Their voice was muted, almost as if your head was underwater. Between the punches and your tiredness, nothing registered in your foggy mind. From the distance you could hear footsteps, getting louder almost as if they were walking towards you.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when a hand brushed against your shoulder. You spun around ready to cuss out whichever stupid rookie decided to bother you so early in the morning. You were surprised to see familiar eyes boring into yours.

"I called your name, you know," Bucky said, his hands moving to rest on your waist, "twice. I even dropped my bag next to yours to get your attention."

"Sorry, I was thinking."

"I can tell," Bucky's thumbs drew circles on your waist, absentmindedly, "Where's that pretty mind been at lately?"

"What do you want, Barnes?"

"I'm worried. About you. You haven't been yourself lately. What's going on?"

"Nothing." You sighed, removing yourself from his grasp, "Missions, reports, meetings. It's tiring."

"Maybe you take a holiday? Try and relax a bit?" You could hear the genuine concern in his voice but you still rolled your eyes.

"Maybe you mind your own fucking business, Barnes? Don't you have other shit to be doing apart from hovering over me?" You grabbed your stuff, refusing to make eye contact with him, and walked out.

"I'm still seeing you for training right?" You hear him call after you, but you keep walking. You let out a shaky breath as soon as you got into the elevator.

He didn't see you for training. Or after.

You'd skipped training in favour of going on a run with Steve and then you had to file a few mission reports. You'd holed yourself up in your office, manila files piling up on the corner of your desk your fingers brushing over the keys with seasoned speed. Bucky had wanted to stop by but given your odd behaviour in the morning, he'd decided against it.

You were glad. You hated that Bucky could see right through you, even when you tried your best to hide it. Especially because you were irrevocably in love with him.

You'd been in love with him ever since you'd started working at the compound. Bucky was one of the few people to notice you and your efficiency. You became one of his preferred mission partners, a fact of which you were very proud. You quickly became one of his favourite people, period, and Bucky even went so far as to blow off Steve to spend time with you.

It hurt you to keep him at arm's length but you knew it was for the best. You remembered what your father told you the night before he left. You're on your own kid. You always have been.

You were given a mission assignment in the evening, with strict instructions of 'wheels up at 0600.' The early pickup time wasn't strange and you were itching to get out of the compound. You packed your bag up, leaving it by the door, and headed to bed.

Another restless night of sleep was the last thing you needed, but you were up and at the hangar waiting for Captain Rogers by 0600. He smiled when he saw you and handed you a coffee. You smiled. Your first real smile since you visited your parents.

"Good luck out there." A voice calls from behind you. You freeze. Bucky jogs towards you both, his eyes betraying his tiredness. Steve's face breaks into a grin at the sight of his old friend. Steve throws his arms around Bucky.

"Don't do anything stupid until I get back," Steve says, his joking tone making Bucky laugh.

"How can I? You're taking all the stupid with you."

You want to smile at the sight of the two of them together but you held yourself back. You walked towards the quinjet, ready to get this show on the road when you hear Bucky clearing his voice behind you.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Onto the quinjet?"

"Not without a hug, you're not." You sigh but trudge down the steps to give him a half-arsed side hug. He pulls you in tight, and whispers into your hair, "When you get back, we're gonna talk. Okay?"

You don't respond, brushing him off and climbing into the jet. Steve follows you in, dropping his bag next to yours, before turning back to wave at Bucky.

"Don't worry, Buck, I'll take good care of your girl."

His girl. That sounded nice. You shook the thought away before elbowing Steve in the sight. Jokingly of course, but he still doubled over for effect. Bucky burst into laughter.

That was the last thing you saw as the door went up.

The mission was hard. Not terrible - no one died, which was a win in your book - but it wasn't fun. Multiple shootouts, car chases, and three hours of hiding in a dumpster later, you were ready to nap for a week. But, alas, Fury had set a debrief at 8 the next morning, which meant that you had - you checked the clock on your microwave - 6 hours at best.

You dropped your bag on the sofa and headed into the bathroom. You unzipped your utility vest, dropping it on the floor. You needed to disinfect it - god knows what had stained that vest. You pulled up your compression shirt, wincing as the flecks of red came into view. You quickly stripped it off, dropping it in the washing basket, before whipping back around. You caught your own reflection in the mirror and tilted your head, taking in your reflection of your body. Your mother's words played back in your head. Maybe your mother had a point.

You quickly shook your head, dispelling those horrible thoughts from your mind. But still, you continued to stare at your body, scrutinising every feature. I mean, sure you weren't as skinny as you used to be, but that's because you had muscle now, right? And the hamburger you had for lunch was a treat - you know for completing the mission? The super important mission that you were on because you are important and you are somebody and you have value and you are someone without your mum. Don't you? And it's ok that you can't see your ribs because actually you have abs now and that's way more attractive. Right? And.. and... and....

SMASH.

Broken glass was shattered all around you, fragments piercing your skin. Your mirror now had a fist-shaped hole in the middle, from where your sadness had quickly bled into anger.

You cradled your bloodied fist in your hand, sinking to the ground as sobs racked through your body. Glass dug into your knees as they hit the floor and you curled your hands into your chest. Hurtful 'what ifs' swirled through your head, stealing your breath and making it almost impossible to breathe.

Pounding on your door broke you out of your thoughts. You tried to regain your bearings. It was 2 am. You were in your apartment, the apartment that was miles away from the compound, that you lived in alone. Who the hell would be at your door right now?

You were silent, breath bated as you waited for the stranger to go away. They banged on the door again.

"Doll, I swear to god, if you don't let me in, I'm going to break your fucking door down."

You knew that voice anywhere. The knowledge that you weren't alone, that he was here for you, that Bucky wouldn't make you suffer alone brought new tears to your eyes. Fresh sobs burst from your chest as you tried to move. Glass shards were stabbing into your legs, and one of your hands was bleeding profusely. Bucky, your safety net, was so close and yet so far.

"Doll? Doll, I can hear you. Doll, please, please let me in." You could hear the panic in his voice as he struggled with his conscience. You tried to move but the pain was excruciating. A pained scream erupted from your lips.

A loud bang came from your front door, followed by heavy and fast footsteps.

"Where are you, doll? Come on, just come and talk to me." He said, sweeping through your living room. You whimpered from the bathroom, his enhanced hearing focussing on even the smallest of sounds.

He quickly found his way into the bathroom, his eyes raking over your hunched figure, before flitting to the broken mirror and the shards of glass on the ground.

"Oh doll," he whispered, bending down to scoop you up from the floor. He cradled you gently as he carried you from the bathroom into your bedroom. "What happened, doll? Talk to me."

You looked up at him, trying to figure out where to start. You blanked. You couldn't find a good place to start the story that would cause you the least pain. Your mouth opened and closed a few times with no sound coming out. Bucky rested his hand against yours, trying to reassure you to take your time, but the sound of your wince drew his attention to your hands.

"Doll, your hands." He grabbed your hands gently, peering at your knuckles. They were mauled, glass sticking out of torn-up skin, "What did you do?" He stood up, walking into your kitchen to grab the first aid kit he knew was under the sink. Watching him walk around like he owned the place made some small part of your heart happy - it was almost as if your dreams, your darkest-held fantasies, were coming true.

Bucky kneeled in front of you, placing the first aid kit beside him. He brushed all the glass shards off your legs - luckily none of them had been embedded into your skin. He cleaned any small scratches before turning to your knuckles. The sight of your knuckles made him wince and you started to pull them away. Bucky leveled you with a look that said, let me take care of you. You let him. He sterilised a pair of tweezers and got to work pulling the shards of glass out of your knuckles. You sat in silence for a while, Bucky diligently working on your knuckles, and you watching the swiftness with which he worked.

"Why did you punch the mirror, doll?" Bucky asked after a while.

"I was angry," you whispered, your voice deathly quiet. Now that the rage was gone, all you had left was embarrassment.

"And why were you angry?" Bucky coaxed, his eyes pleading for some answers. He pulled out the last shard of glass before swiping an alcohol wipe over your knuckles and bandaging them up. He packed up all the items back into the first aid box and went to put it away and wash his hands.

You were still sat on the bed contemplating your answer when he got back. He knelt in front of you again, before he rested his hands on your face, "Why were you angry doll?"

"I didn't like it." You whispered, pulling your body away from him.

"What didn't you like?" Bucky's eyes stared into yours and you suddenly felt extremely self-conscious. You tried to remove yourself from his all-seeing, mind-reading gaze, but he didn't let you. He pulled you into his lap, and you hid your face in his neck. His beard tickled your forehead as you nestled into him, trying to seek out the comfort you so desperately needed but didn't know how to ask for.

"Me." You said, your head turned away from him as you stared at your hands.

"What?"

"I didn't like me." Your voice started to shake as you tried to find the right words to tell him the truth, the whole honest godforsaken truth, but you couldn't.

Bucky seemed to read your mind, "It's ok, take your time. We don't have to talk about this today. We can come back to it later, when you're feeling up for it, okay?" You nodded, burrowing further into him, "You wanna sleep?"

You nodded again, and Bucky shifted, wrapping his arms around you so he could gently place you down on the bed. He removed his arms from underneath you and tucked you into bed, gently kissing your forehead as you turned to leave. You whined.

"Pleasedon'tgoBuck-" You mumbled, sleep quickly pulling you under. He smiled, perching himself on the end of the bed.

"You sure you want me to say, sweetheart? Not sure you'll ever get rid of me if I stay?"

"I promise. Never want you to go." You said, clinging to his arm and pulling him back into bed.

You slipped into an easy slumber as Bucky shuffled around in your room. Maybe you didn't have to be on your own anymore.

fin.

[quigonswife8]

Safe: Leon Kennedy x reader

Leon finds you half-dead and gets you to safety || gif creds: @swiftsalad

Warnings: blood, injury, swearing, nearly dying, sadness.

Leon deserves so much happiness, like god I just wanna comfort him and I wanna tell him how proud I am of him.

If Capcom doesn't let him be happy, I swear to god, I will pay them a little visit.

------

The sun has long since disappeared, leaving the moon as it's replacement. It creates an eerier environment- as now it's harder to see those after you.

It's been ten minutes since you were severely injured. The blood only coats your clothes more, and you fear you will die in a matter of minutes.

It's hard to focus on anything. You feel woozy and damn near collapsing- that would mean being open to dying. Not that it would be your fault. It doesn't even hurt- your side, that is. All you feel is numbness, and the overwhelming feeling of wanting to fall asleep.

"No." slips from your lips. Keeping pressure on the wound which is practically useless, you try and walk faster. "...I...can't...give up."

-------

You feel the hard ground against your knees as you fall to them. Your vision is hazy- restricting your ability to see. Your eyes droop, as you feel the need to welcome sleep. As much as you want to go on, you realise it's futile.

This is it for you. You're going to die in the middle of nowhere, your body probably set on fire like that poor cop Leon had told you about. You lift your head, only for it to drop, and for your eyes to focus on the ground.

You were strong. You got this far, at least. Now you'll be able to die knowing that you fought, though that still doesn't make things any better. As you feel yourself begin to give in- as you feel yourself begin to succumb to your wound- he comes to mind.

Then you pass out.

------

"Are you sure they're..."

"They're alright." the 27 year old replies softly. He looks over his shoulder a moment, to look at the young girl behind him. She smiles softly at him, and then looks forward.

It's been a long night. The day started out fine, but just went downhill from there. He had, and then lost you, in a matter of minutes. You had come up with the idea to lead a group of villagers away to protect himself and Ashley.

Leon is extremely worried for you, more than he can even show, more than he could possibly describe. You’re his partner, that he cares for so much He would do anything for you, he loves you more than he’s ever loved anyone.

"They have to be this way..." his expression is replaced with one of panic- his hand falls off the gun in his holster. Leon glances over at Ash, and then looks forward again.

"Shit."

Then, he runs over to the body on the ground. "(y/n)!"

There's no response, of course. "(y/n)." he kneels down in front of you, immediately noticing how you're not awake. The air suddenly becomes still- his heartbeat goes from steady, to uneven. It's like someone has taken a jackhammer and smashed it into his chest.

"Oh no..." Ashley mutters, covering her mouth with a hand. Leon is more focused on you to form some sort of response to her. "I'm sorry." he mutters, then listening to your heartbeat. It's very weak, but it's there.

You're dying, and he needs to do something before it's too late- "okay", blinking away tears, Leon begins to rip up a piece of his shirt, which he proceeds to press to the wound he'd found.

Then he lifts you into his arms, and stands. "We have to get somewhere safe." praying that he's done enough for now, he looks over at Ashley, "let's go."

-

He paces the room, while Ashley watches. Leon hasn't stopped pacing since getting you to this safe house, and he got you there over an hour ago.

Ashley had insisted he take a break, but he'd insisted on just pacing.

"They'll be fine Leon." she comforts, pulling her attention from him, and focusing it on you. Her heart hurts to see you this way. She considers you a close friend despite only meeting that day, and you feel the same towards her.

Though if you weren't her friend, she would still feel sympathy.

"I've seen them survive worse in these past couple of hours."

"And worse in the past." he adds on, continuing to pace. "...there was a lot of blood." he looks over at you. "...I hope I did enough."

"You did." Ashley replies, making sure to emphasize her words. "...you're the reason they’re alive, Leon."

If Ashley has learnt anything over these past couple of hours, it's that Leon would do anything for the people he cares about. She can see how much he cares for you, and that he would go to the ends of the earth for you. If that's not love, she doesn't know what is.

"Thank you Ashley." he nods to her, "...but..." though, he pauses. He doesn't want to dwell on things that may panic him more. So? he just continues to pace and push those thoughts away.

----

A day passes, until you finally wake. It's a little cold and the pain in your side has eased up thankfully.

Welcoming in the room as you open your eyes, you glance around. The first person you see is Ashley- she's fast asleep against the uncomfortable looking chair on the other side of the room.

Then, you look down- your eyes land on the large makeshift bandage wrapped around your torso.

Finally you look around for Leon. He comes into view straightaway, and he's pacing. How long were you out for, you wonder, and how are you even...alive?

"How long was I out...?" your throat is hoarse, and dry. Propping yourself up on the bed you realise you're on, you keep an eye on Leon. Leon who stops, and looks over at you.

The expression on his face quickly changes, and it's like he's now looking at a ghost. "(y/n)?" your name feels distant on his tongue, if that makes any sense. His lips ghost over the words, his eyes widening slightly.

"Yep." you reply, smiling over at him. "...it's me."

You're alive. After a whole day of worrying, of staying by your side and making sure that you would stay safe, here you are, finally awake. He can barely contain the tears in his eyes- he doesn't like crying in front of people, and usually hides his emotions anyway, so he does try to hide the tears.

Leon walks over to you, immediately kneeling down in front of you. His hands quickly finds yours, and then he brings them to his lips to pepper soft kisses on them. Leon's eyes have softened considerably, those same eyes seem on the verge of tears.

Leon is desperate to keep you close- he doesn't outwardly admit it, but he's too scared to let you go. To leave your side. He fears something may happen if he does, that you may simply disappear...and he just can't lose you.

"I'm here." he mutters. "I'm here, sweetheart."

Words faltering, and the tears fall from his eyes and drip onto your hands. Leon quickly looks away not wanting you to see him cry, and in all honesty, he feels pathetic. He should be strong- that's who he is. He shouldn't be weak like this, he shouldn't cry.

"Leon, it’s okay to cry..."

You glance over at Ashley a moment, noticing she's still asleep. You wouldn't want to wake her yet, she deserves this sleep. You pull your eyes away from the sleeping girl to look at Leon again.

Leon doesn't answer, but you can tell he's trying to fight back the emotions. You know how he is with his emotions, and the reason why he doesn't show them as much as he used to. Ever since the nightmare that happened in Raccoon city;

-

He'd confided in you, told you everything that happened when you were apart. That night, when you both returned to your apartment as you were there in the city [he’d managed to call you to tell you what was happening, and you’d left to get to him], you had just held him.

You promised to him you'd never let go. He'd clung onto you, he'd sobbed in your arms, broken down, and you had nearly cried yourself. To only be 21 and have to go through what he did would break someone, no wonder it broke him.

He had fallen asleep in your arms that night, and you had still held him. Your fingers through his hair as a soothing mechanism for him. Leon had wanted a fresh start with you after that, and god how he could have...but of course a wrench had to be thrown into his plans.

The wrench being the stupid government. Leon was forced to become an agent for them- if he didn't then the young girl he had helped save, Sherry, would be killed. This only broke your heart more when he'd returned and told you.

The months following were hard for him, training he would never forget. He was forced to endure exercises that drained him, forced him to 'harden up', though he'd already hardened up since Raccon City, if he's being honest.

It felt like a daze when he'd told you everything; how he was assigned by the president to rescue his daughter, aka Ashley, from the Los Illuminados. He'd told you he would be gone for...he didn't even know how long.

That's when you put your foot down. You'd told Leon you would be going with him- screw the government. Leon had tried to force you to stay back, but you reminded him that you had survived through raccoon city looking for him, and you had done a pretty good job at handling yourself. "I'm not letting you go alone, Leon. You should have someone with you."

By some surprise, the government had let you go.

-

"Leon..." you repeat. "...please look at me, sweetheart." The 27 year old doesn't, at first. You decide to put a hand on his cheek, in hopes your touch will get his attention "...please."

You smile when he turns to look at you...your smile immediately falters though, and then disappears. Leon is in tears- he looks on the verge of sobbing.

The only other time you've seen him this distraught was that night. It breaks your heart. "I nearly..." he starts, but immediately drops his head. "...I thought I was going to..." scootching slightly forward, you take one of your hands out of his to move to his hair.

Slowly you run your fingers through his messy hair;

"...but i'm here Leon. I'm here with you." he's the reason you're there in the first place. Leon buries his face into the bed, but oh how he wants to bury it in your shirt. To hear the way your heartbeat goes on- the way it's steady. The way it let's him know that you're alive.

"...and i'm not going anywhere..." you press a soft kiss to his head "...thanks to you."

Leon doesn't answer, he simply keeps his head down, as he continues to fight back the need to sob. "I love you." you mutter, as you press another kiss to his head.

His "I love you too." is so quiet, but you still hear him. His hand is still in yours, and you don't make a movement to take your hand that’s in his, away. Just wanting to give your love, and your attention, you fall silent.

Then, just like that, you're taken back to that night. When you had held him in your arms not caring how long it would be for. How you comforted him and let him know how much you loved him.

Right now you just want him to know that you're there, cause like you said: you’re not going anywhere.

[nats-bottom]

NR - She's Gone

Summary: Soulmate AU - Reader and Nat are soulmates where they feel each other's injuries. When Nat sacrifices herself, Reader doesn't know what is going on.

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff and Reader

Warnings: Angst, Nat Death, The Blip, Panic Attack, Injuries

Notes:

I also have accounts on Wattpad and AO3! The users there are @ paige_vers

Please give me requests! You can submit them here or on my insta, @ scarlettsoutset

ᨖᨖೱᨖ⧗ᨖⴵᨖ🕷️ᨖⴵᨖ⧗ᨖೱᨖᨖ

Y/n POV

I knew they were out there somewhere, but I just couldn't wait to meet them. My one and only. My other half. My soulmate. All my friends had found their soulmate, but I had yet to find mine. The way people found their soulmate was by receiving the same injuries as them, but to a lesser extent. And for some reason, I always got hurt. Well, my soulmate was, and I was just feeling part of it. I didn't hate them for it, but sometimes I wished I got hurt more just to give them something back. 

I remember this one time when I was about 17, I got this pain in my lower abdomen that felt like the worst cramps I had ever gotten. It felt more like my uterus was being ripped out of you. It was terrible, and I even had to take school off that day. Ever since then, my period has been irregular. I wondered what happened to my soulmate, and what they went through to make me feel that pain.

But now, I am also in a lot of pain. My whole body ached, and I had cuts and bruises everywhere. This happened often, so it wasn't anything new to me. 'Who is my soulmate? What do they do for a living?' I asked myself. I wondered if they were a stunt person, or some sort of fighter. Whatever they were, I just wanted to meet them and ask them why they were always getting hurt.

Natasha POV

The team and I were just climbing back on the Quinjet after fighting some aliens. I felt so bad for my soulmate. Whoever they were, they always had to endure so much from me, when I hardly ever felt anything from them. Occasionally I would get a pepper cut, or a random bruise here or there, but that was it. It was nothing compared to the pain I gave them. 

I decided just to rest on the way back to the compound and to try not to worry about my soulmate. Once we get back to the compound, I just go clean up myself, and go rest. As I clean up my wounds, I flinch at the sharp pain from pouring on the hydrogen peroxide. I bandaged myself up, and put on ointment to the bruises. I can only hope that my soulmate does the same with their wounds. They must wonder where it all comes from, this only makes me feel more guilty. I lay down on my bed, just overthinking about how guilty I feel, and how my soulmate must hate me. Before I know it, I am too tired and end up falling asleep, forgetting about my worries. 

TIME SKIP TO A FEW YEARS LATER

I'm going on a walk in the park with Wanda, Carol, and Maria. Maria and Carol have already found their soulmates, but Wanda and I have yet to find ours. As we walk in the park, I see this cute girl, and part of me feels some sort of connection towards her. 'Should I go talk to her?' I think. But as I'm looking at her, I trip on the sidewalk, skinning my knee. I hear an "Owww" from the woman and see her clutching her knee. Still on the ground, my face lights up as I think that I have finally found my soulmate. But before I can do anything about it, Wanda and Maria help me up and keep on walking. I look back at the girl, still holding her knee, and look back at my friends, a good 30 feet in front of me.

I turn towards the girl, about to walk towards her, but Wanda calls out my name, urging me to catch up to them. Carol backs her up and runs towards me, grabbing my hand pulling me towards everyone else.

I realize that my chance is gone, and that I'll probably never see my soulmate again. I glance back at her, only to realize that she is gone. I keep on walking forward, trying to forget the fact that my life could've just been very different.

TIME SKIP TO A FEW YEARS LATER (POST BLIP)

Y/N POV

It has now been 5 years since all my friends have left, thanks to the blip. I have been able to get back on my feet but still haven't fully recovered. I found a new job, a new dog and cat, and found a couple new friends. I miss my old friends dearly, but I know that they won't come back. A few of their soulmates are still left behind, and I feel bad for them, because they had finally found their other half and were finally happy. Then there was me, who had never found mine, so I was never truly happy. But I knew that they were still out there, because I could still feel them. Which means that they could still feel me. This was something that brought me hope. Hope that I might still find them.

I went to work one day, as usual, and started my day there. It was boring, long, monotonous, work, but it paid the bills. Then suddenly, I felt something that I've never felt before. It was a pain that I've never had like anything else. Everything in my body hurts, especially my back. I felt empty, lost, a new kind of pain. I could tell that it was from my soulmate, but this time it was mental and emotional too, not just physical. I feel like I was at my lowest point, worse than when the blip happened. I'm not sure what had happened to my soulmate, but I sure felt bad for them. 

I had read about the feeling people have when their soulmate dies, and I start to wonder if it is something like this. I sure hope that wasn't what happened. Oh God please no, that can't happen. I would do anything for that to not happen.

TIME SKIP TO LATER THAT DAY

I was home, in the apartment that I used to share with a couple of roommates before they blipped. I was watching SNL, when suddenly a few celebrities appeared in the scene, ones who had previously blipped. I didn't know if it was just CGI or what, but everyone else seemed confused. That's when it happened to me. My old roommate, Katie appeared on the couch next to me. I screamed a little, and started to panic. Then Zoe walked out of the room that used to be hers and walked into the living room where I was. I had no idea what was going on, and I really was panicking. 

I just ran to my room, and could feel the panic attack come on. My breath started to get shallower, and my head started to feel like it was spinning. My heart rate was getting faster, and I just bent over, sitting on my bed. I could hear my old roommates talking in the living room, and this only made everything worse.

As the panic attack passed, I decided that I'll have to confront my problems sooner than later, and so I left my room to go talk to them. I saw them sitting on the couch watching the news, trying to figure out what was going on.

I take a seat on the couch, at the side furthest away from them, and we just sit there in silence, watching the news that interrupted my show. It was hectic, but the message that they were able to get across was "the Avengers were able to bring back everyone who blipped. But at a cost. Both Tony Stark and Natasha Romanoff died. Tony Stark died right before everyone was brought back, and Natasha Romanoff died at some point earlier in the day. The world has been saved."

I feel a tear slide down my cheek, not out of joy, but out of sadness. I realize that that is what I felt earlier that day. I felt my soulmate, Natasha Romanoff, dying. I had no idea that it was her, and I realize now that that's why I was always getting hurt. My soulmate was an avenger. One of earth's mightiest heroes. And now she's gone. I'll never have a chance to meet her, to be with her. I feel this pang of sadness and guilt in my chest, realizing that I'll forever be lonely. I didn't even realize it, but I'm full on sobbing now. I don't realize it until it gets pointed out to me by Zoe, when she asks me if I'm alright.

"My soulmate- she's gone." I say between sobs.

"What do you mean? Everyone's back." Katie replies.

"She died today. I felt it. Natasha Romanoff, the Avenger, on the news, remember. I was her soulmate."

"oh y/n, I'm so sorry. I know how much you always wanted to meet your soulmate. I can't even imagine how hard this must be for you right now." Zoe says. She comes over to me and gives me a hug. I just cried into her.

"I did. It's all I wanted in life. And now she's gone."

[mikichko]

⛔ this blog is 18+ !! minors and ageless blogs please dni ⛔

soulmates au - your scars show up on your soulamtes body cw: angst, implied character death, mentions of injury, this whole thing has a big focus on scars so please approach it carefully

Johnny gets his first scar when he’s just barely 10 years old. It’s not a traditional scar either but something more jagged and rushed. Like someone had been in a hurry to pierce the skin and get through. It’s on his lower right abdomen, a thick horizontal line with three, thinner, evenly spaced lines. Just a few centimeters below there’s another miniscule scar, another horizontal line. 

That night he learns about appendicitis. Learns how the dull aches he’d been feeling in his belly were a result of an internal organ failing within. When his parents ask him how long he’d been feeling the dull, ghost-like, aches their eyes widen at his response. His mother immediately dropping to inspect his scar, looking for any sort of color difference that would stand out along his already pale skin. 

On that same night Johnny understands that you never want your scars to turn white. Ever.

You’re six when you get your first ghost scar. One that’s not yours but it is in some odd special way. You don’t quite grasp the idea of fate and soulmates yet but, you can understand that someone getting hurt reflects on you. 

When you notice the newly adorned scar on your chin you let out a pitiful scream. Your mother rushes to you, thinking you wounded, only to find your small fingers tracing the newly scarred skin. You’re trembling, eyes wet with tears, as you continue to inspect the marked skin.

“Oh sweetie, did your ghost give you a fright?” She reaches for you, hands moving to cradle your face. You’re unable to speak, teeth clenched as you try to such in air. “It’s alright sweetheart, looks like he had a little tumble.” Her fingers press the area around your chin gently, “See how it blends in? That means he’s okay. It probably hurts a little but he’s alright. Don’t you worry”

It still tugs at your little heart to know that your ghost is out there, hurt without any help. What if his momma isn’t there like yours? Or if he’s alone? Will he have someone to help him with the hurt the way your momma does with you?

Your mother brushes your tears away, interrupting your train of thought. She chatters about the birds outside, how she needs your help feeding them, and distracts you from all thoughts about your lonely hurt ghost.

Johnny amasses more scars over the years. Small ones across the bridge of his nose, underneath his left eyebrow, one right above his knee. He even gets the hint of a burn on his left calf. They marr his skin, their color just barely present against his complexion. His mother shakes his head every time she sees him with a new scar, a playful smile on her lips, “Got yourself an active one did you, Johnny?”

He laughs it off, kissing the side of her temple. He thinks of them as gifts, reminders that you’re out there in the world making your way to him. He worries sometimes that you might think him dead, a singular scar on your chin to remind you of him. But he reminds himself that your scars have not yet lost their color, have not become the absence of color just yet. 

His newest one comes just as he starts basic training. He’d have missed it if it weren’t for the phantom sting he feels when it comes in. It’s on the back of his foot, a crooked vertical scar running along the fibular bone. He can’t even control the surprised laugh that escapes him. It’s baffling how without having met you yet you manage to entertain him so much. Bringing him so much comfort in having parts of you with him. You’ve even brought him some close friends, your marks a conversation starter for everyone he’s come across.

His fingers trace the scar, warm water pouring over his back as he inspects the new piece of mauled skin. “Oh lass, always a creative one aren’t ye?”

A hiss escapes you before you can register the dull ache on your right bicep. Not one, but two new scars are now companions to the sole scar on your chin. 

An entry and exit wound, your mother tells you when you seek her out. Her fingers trace the edges of the new circular scars, eyebrows pulled together as she inspects. You’re barely 17, and not one to seek out trouble, but it seems your partner is. You can see the worry lines etched into her face as she moves her fingers along the slight divot in your newly damaged skin. A gunshot wound, she tells you, clean shot. 

Your stomach drops at that, an uneasy feeling coming over you. They, whoever they were, were in danger. One way or another, violence had found it’s way into their lives. You’d had questions before, mostly due to the lack of scarring and whether or not they were alive, but you’ve gotten confirmation now. Not only were they still alive but being harmed. You’re left to wonder whether or not they brought this on themselves. If this shift will bring any other scars.

Sometime after your mother talks with you about the unfortunate ones. About what love looks like for those who lose their ghosts early in life.

You alter Johnny’s flesh a few more times. Three large scars run along the side of his right thigh, right above the knee up until just a few centimeters from the halfway point of his thigh. Phantom ankle pains that he’s gotten familiar with accompany these scars. He laughs when he tells Ghost that you have weak ankles, probably couldn’t last a damn day out there with them. Ghost snorts at him, tells him he needs to focus on making your knees weak instead. Johnny shoves him, “Is exactly why ye get to meet her last. Cannae have you givin’ me a bad reputation.”

Months later you unknowingly bless the team with the happiest Johnny they’ve seen to date. When Gaz inquires he proudly shows off the four new dots that mark his upper left cheek. “They have a cat!” Gaz laughs, ruffling the little tufts of hair that Johnny has. Finally, he gets a small glimpse into your life. He spends the helicopter ride wondering all about you and your feline friend. Names him Chomp and wonders if they’d get along in the end.

The last scars you give Johnny are three tiny pinprick scars along his abdomen. Barely there, Price tells him they’re usually associated with a cholecystectomy, a gallbladder removal. A sense of dread overcomes him as he sits down to read about it, hands absentmindedly rubbing over the new dot on his sternum. It’s the second time that you’ve undergone a major surgery and Johnny can’t escape the distress that settles into his bones.

As he grew he’d learned there was a great chance that you could have passed had your appendectomy not been done in time. None of the other scars had been large enough indicators of anything serious, merely skin wounds. But this, he’s suddenly eighteen again, grappling not only with his own morality but yours as well. 

He’s come to terms with the fact he could die long ago, it’s part of the job, but Johnny doesn’t think that he could stomach the idea of dying without meeting you. To go his entire life waiting in anticipation for your stories to never hear them. Never feel your touch, hear your voice, feel your heartbeat, see your face. He’s gotten used to tucking the feeling away. Never letting it bubble up even when pinned down. But in moments like this he’s faced with the reality of it all and he realizes that he’d only ever considered the possibility of him dying first.

Never you.

It’s not a dull ache this time, but a burning sensation across the entirety of your forehead. It feels like someone had stabbed you or seared something into your skin. 

You scramble out of your bed, not bothering to turn on the lights, rushing to the bathroom solely by memory. Your skin screams at you in protest and as your hands scramble to turn on the cold water you realize the searing pain isn’t contained to your forehead, but the back of your head as well. Splashing some water on your forehead with one hand, you clumsily look for the light switch with the other. Flipping the switch, you blink rapidly forcing your eyes to adjust as quickly as possible. Your eyes finally focus and instantly you wish they hadn’t.

barely two centimeters in diameter, in the center of your forehead, is a gunshot wound. Your wet hand reaches around to the back of your head, patting around until it finds the sweltering skin there too. 

A clean shot.

Your body reacts first, tears already filling your eyes, as you try to process the new markings on your skin. He’s shot, again. In trouble, again. But it’s more than just trouble now, it’s a goddamn headshot. He couldn’t have survived that.

“No.” Your hand reaches for the mirror as if willing the scar to disappear, “No, goddammit, no! I didn’t even-” 

The loss of heat along your head makes you freeze, as if staying still will prevent the fate you’ve been dealt. You watch in realtime as the scar settles, blending into your skin, before finally they begin to lose color. On your forehead, chin, and bicep, the three scars turn a colorless shade of white. The final indicator of a soul now passed. 

Finally, the tears fall, leaving a wet path behind. Your hands grip the still running sink as you stare into the mirror.

“I didn’t even get a chance to meet you.”

a/n: this scratched my brain so good in the shower so you get it. unedited I just word vomited. smoochies!!!!

star banners by @/saradika

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Ayo can we get a hot ass "keep my wife's name out your goddamn mouth" Kathy x John

Kathy does routine physical exams obviously and in the showers Price overhears some locker room talking about his wife, how they'd like those hands to go further, like how she bosses them around etc.

Cue him rounding the corner to give them a solid punch and "Don't you dare utter my wife's name again"

Up to you if she rewards him ☺️

yes you fucking can!!!!

That's My Wife!

pairing: F!OC: Kathleen "Brass" Moore x John Price words: 1.5K~ cw: jealousy, protectiveness, arguments, violence, injuries (mentioned), misogyny, sexually-charged comments, "locker room talk", smutless smut.

The worst time of the year for the army medical staff at Tidworth is September. Oh, how the nurses and doctors hate the month of September during which, for two weeks straight, they see nothing but soldier after soldier for health checks and physical exams to confirm that they’re fit for service.

It’s, unfortunately, repetitive, mind-numbing and time-consuming. It’s also, unfortunately, a whole hands on deck situation. So, everyone who’s not actively doing something else, gets called in to help process the soldiers.

That’s how Kathleen ends up, every year, in the clinic, helping physicians assess the soldiers. Her jobs tend to be easy. More of the same that she tends to already do: measuring heights and weights, calculating their BMI and body fat percentages, using the stethoscope to listen to their heartbeat and breathing, manning the blood pressure gauge…

And, of course, the most interesting stuff. Conducting stress tests and having to strap all sorts of machines and sensors to the soldiers and monitor how they perform as they run on a treadmill, as well as doing physical checks on old injuries, scars…

In short, she spends a long time in front of shirtless men… and even longer touching their chests, arms, backs, and sometimes their legs, to check for injuries, which often ends with her crouching or kneeling at their feet.

And, of course, the stupid soldiers can’t keep their mouths shut. More often than not they make a few remarks about taking her out later, about coming to see her more often, of being lucky they get her for their checks…

It’s a nightmare. Kathleen hates it. In fact, she wishes she wasn’t tasked with that every year… But the choice is her or risking one of the pretty new interns having to do it, girls who haven’t yet developed the thick skin she has, and would likely giggle and get flustered at the lads behaviour… instead of calling them out on it or just downright ignoring them.

September, as it turns out, is also a nightmare for John. But he only figured that out today.

After his Bravo team finished training for the morning, John allowed them to hit the showers and he stayed behind to finish some work and talk with Soap.

As they enter the locker room, the rest of Bravo team is already in the communal showers, talking loudly amidst themselves and laughing, their voices echoing amidst the spraying of the showers over them.

John pops open his locker and starts shedding his workout kit, tossing it into his bag on the shelf. Soap isn’t far from him, a few lockers up, in the adjacent wall, his locker door having his name ‘MACTAVISH’ inside the clear plastic name tag holder, with a post-it naming him ‘F.N.G’ scotch taped below it.

John doesn’t need to pay much attention to know they’re talking about women, especially, the nurses from the nearby Tidworth base. All of them had gone through their check-ups in the last couple of days and, as is typical, they couldn’t keep their traps shut about the pretty women with soft hands doting all over them.

“Oh, mine bent over and pushed those tits of hers right up to my knee.” One of them said.

“Lucky bastard. I got a bloke.” Another replied.

Oh, how many times John had told them to be quiet and keep those sorts of talks to themselves when they were at the barracks, and not in public… But did those knobheads listen? No, never.

John grabbed his towel and 2-in-1 shampoo and bodywash and headed into the showers, taking up one of the vacant spots and drawing the curtain after hanging the curtain just outside his stall.

“I swear she was giving me the look… Definitely wants a piece of me.”

“No bird would want a piece of yer ugly mug.”

The lads continued talking as he let the water run over his body and began quickly lathering himself up with his 2-in-1, washing his hair and face aggressively before running his head under the falling shower water.

“I’m not devout, but this new batch’a nurses they got this year makes me a believer.”

“That’s right, brother.”

One-by-one they started vacating their stalls, still chatting loudly about their check-ups and the young women that treated them, lounging about the locker room and making each other laugh.

“But that arse of hers… I just know she’d bounce so well on my cock-”

“Oh that’s nothing. You didn’t see her last year before they changed the colour of the scrubs… That blue colour just… mmmmm…”

John finishes his shower not long after, wrapping his grey towel around his hip and tying it up to stay still. Then, he collects his 2-in-1 bottle from its perch atop the metal piping of the shower and starts making his way back.

That’s when he hears it:

“It’s no wonder the Captain’s peacockin’ himself around like that… I mean have you seen the size of her tits?”

John’s blood runs cold. They wouldn’t fucking dare. They wouldn’t talk about Kathleen. 

No. 

Not they. 

Him.

Sergeant Ellis Evans. 

One he’s always had problems reining in.

“Captain’s lucky is all I’ll say… Body like hers… Hell, even I’d forgive that bloody attitude of hers.”

The others laughed as Evans continued.

“I mean, I’m sure Kathleen’s mouth’s good for more than just talking… Gotta be good on her knees.. They call her ‘Brass’ for a reason, right? Bet she leaves ‘em with a nice polish and shine once she’s done.” 

That did it.

John rounded the corner into the locker room and, abruptly, the room fell into silence, breaths hitching and the temperature dropping into an uncomfortable ice.

But John didn’t stop walking at the doorway… In fact, he beelined right for Evans.

“Captain, I-” Evans immediately tried backtracking. “We were just joking, we were just-”

“Keep my wife’s name out your bloody mouth.” John grits at him through clenched teeth before he throws a right cross to Evans’ face.

-

It’s just past 7P.M. when Kathleen comes in through the front door. John has made dinner for them and little Charlotte is already asleep in her crib by the time she does.

She sets her bag down in the entrance, takes off her shoes, and pads over to the kitchen in search of John.

“Hi…” She greets him softly as she approaches the table, causing him to swivel on his chair to greet her, wrapping his arms around her waist. 

She presses a kiss to his mouth, which he returns. “Hi, Da’lin’.” He murmurs to her once they separate.

“Is she down?” She asks in a soft tone as she looks at him.

“Mhm… Full belly and empty diaper.” He tells her, which makes her smile softly, seeming relieved.

Kathleen feels exhausted, as usual, still not used to the work-life balance that comes from having a 4-month-old baby who doesn’t like to sleep + and a physically demanding job that runs on a 12-hour-shift schedule. 

John swivels back to his previous position, nursing a glass of whiskey with his left hand, the right one resting on the table, the knuckles covered by a blue gel ice pack.

“So that’s what happened...” Kathleen muses as she glances at his iced hand, before backing away to grab herself a plate of food from the cupboard.

“What is?” John murmurs as he glances at her, watching her serve herself of some frozen lasagna and salad.

“One of your lads ended up in my emergency room after some ‘roughhousing gone wrong in the locker room’... I was musing about what he did all afternoon.” She quips as she pads over to the table again again.

“Hm.” John mutters quietly, seemingly a mix of embarassed and annoyed at that fact.

“So what did he do?” She asks as she takes a seat on his lap, perched on his lap, as she pops a cherry tomato in her mouth.

“Talked about you.” John murmurs, wrapping his free arm around her waist. “Only I get to say debauching things about My Wife.” He grumbles as he looks up into her eyes.

Kathleen rolls her eyes at him and shakes her head, but she can’t help the smirk that takes over her rudy lips as he calls her ‘his wife’. “My, Mr. Price, defending my honour, huh?” She jokes as she pops a bit of lettuce in her mouth.

“Defending my honour… and yours by proxy. Just an unforeseen consequence of it.” He tells her, trying to act nonchalant about the fact he broke a man’s nose, eyesocket and three of his ribs, for demeaning his wife.

“Right… Of course… How stupid of me…” Kathleen teases as she leans toward him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, which makes his blue eyes close, a smile taking over his features. 

“As opposed to… what exactly? There isn’t much up there other than thoughts of my cock, da’lin’.” John remarks, causing her to roll her eyes, annoyed, and flick his head away from her by pushing his cheek, annoyed.

“I can very well just stop thinking about it all together… And I’m sure you wouldn’t want that when I was just about to reward you for defending me…” Kathleen teases as she pops another cherry tomato in her mouth, eyes locked on John and the way his pupils dilated, his cock already stirring awake in his joggers against her ass in her green scrubs.

[angelkhi]

kiss it better - j.m

pairing: dilf!joel miller x babysitter!reader

summary: turns out joel is trained in first aid, among other things.

warnings: SMUT (18+ Minors DNI) oral (f), fingering, masturbation (m), age gap, creampie but not technically p in v, cumplay i guess, squirting? cum eating/swapping(???), praise, an inkling of overstimulation, hair pulling, needy joel, some dirty talk / bad language, nicknames: dove, pretty girl, sweet girl, idk just some down right dirty shit with some feeling, mentions of injury (a scraped knee and elbow), age gap, slight hurt comfort, grumpy bucky, kinda sweet ending. very sorry if i missed anything!

word count: 2.4 k

a little note: hi! this shit is nasty soz xx i wrote this for bucky but changed it to pre-outbreak joel cause yeah, also not proofread cause i don’t like reading my own shit, and sarah is like 5 in this, also if u know me no you don’t, okay love ya x likes and reblogs appreciated 🫶🏾

"You, kitchen. I'll be down in 10."

You'd listened of course, planting yourself on the kitchen counter and awaiting his return, but those 7 simple words left you fidgeting for the entire 10 minutes he was gone.

Joel walks into the room without a word, puts the bright red first aid box on the counter next to you and pulls up a stool. You can't help but watch his fluid movements, admiring his grace and precision even in the smallest of movements. All of them are deliberate, calculated.

"This is gonna sting a bit." He rips open an alcohol wipe, sliding a hand behind your knee to keep you in place. "Deep breath for me."

"Joel, I can sort it myself- mother fucker!" You start to protest but he presses the wipe against your broken skin, the sting unexpected despite his prior warning.

"You kiss your mother with that mouth?" Joel smirks, wiping over your knee once more, his fingers digging into your flesh when you try to pull away from him. "Keep still."

"I told you I'd sort it." You mumble.

"Stop being so proud for 10 minutes. Let me help you."

"But..."

He sighs, finally looking up at you. You're not sure if it's the intensity of his stare, or the fact that he's hunched over you, touching you so gently, as though a scraped knee just might break you, but that sigh defeats you.

"Okay."

Silence falls over you again and you continue to watch him work, smiling when he fiddles with small bandage and adds a princess sticker for good measure.

"I'm sorry about earlier. Didn't mean for such a dramatic entrance but you know Sarah, she's..."

"Stubborn and bossy."

"I was going to say strong minded and competitive. Like her father." His brow quirks subtly, but you pretend not to notice it.

"So... stubborn and bossy." Joel smiles, still completely focused on bandaging your knee, "There you go, all patched up."

You nod, unsure of what to say all of a sudden. Joel fills the silence.

"I've missed you." Three simple words, that probably would've had little effect on you if they hadn't come from him.

"You saw me yesterday Joel."

"You know that's not what I mean dove." He glances up at you, just for a second, but a second is all he needs to know you understand. Of course you understand. You've spent the better part of a year trying not to miss him.

"Always so proud. It's okay to let people help you."

"My pride took quite the hit today thank you very much, your kid is way too good at tag." Joel chuckles, and your bruised pride heals a little, knowing that you had made him laugh. The way that his eyes crinkle and his nose scrunches, the almost giggle. You want to commit it to memory. To keep them it your pocket safe and tight for when you needed it. Even as his soft eyes bore into your own, silently demanding an answer to his statement.

"Thank you, Doctor Miller. I'd better be going." It's cowardly, barely even a whisper, almost drowned out by the low hum of the fridge.

But you don't move though and nether does he. Joel smooths the bandage over your knee, his lingering thumb quickly replaced by his soft lips. Joel gazes up at you as he rose from his knees, his hands sliding up your legs with each fluid movement. His hands move on their own accord, across your thighs, skimming your hips and waist, moving up and up until he's cradling your jaw.

"I wanna keep you in just a little while longer for observations, doctors orders" You lean into his touch, hyper aware of how close the pair of you suddenly are.

"Hmm. Okay Doctor Miller, any other remedies... since you insist." You're breathless, the air in the room seeming none existent as you bend to his will.

"I can think of one."

He bunches your skirt up around your waist in one swift motion, urging you to lay back against the cool marble countertop. His lips are full and warm against your skin, lingering on the inside of your knee, his fingers holed in the side of your panties, dragging them ever so slowly down your thighs. Joel's every movement is slow and deliberate, as though he's trying to savour each and every part of the moment.

"Such a pretty cunt." A small burst of cool air against your exposed pussy pushes you closer to the edge of desperation. Joel's hair tickles your inner thighs, his soft shirt brushing the back of your knee

"Tell me you missed me." He's so close to where you need him, practically dangling himself on a string. "Tell me how much you missed me touching you like this."

Joel finally touches you, his thumb circling your hole, watching you clench around nothing desperately spread out on his kitchen counter willing to take anything he'll give you.

"Missed you, Joel. So much." He hums, pride seeping out of his pores, dark eyes flickering when you say his name.

"Fuckin my hand to the thought of you was torture dove. Nothin compares to this perfect little thing." His lips purse and a small burst of cool air brushes over your clit. You grow more and more desperate the closer he gets, you're practically offering yourself up on a silver platter and he chooses now to take his sweet time?

Your fingers thread through his shaggy locks, prompting him to do something or you'll do it yourself. Joel' laugh is quick and breathless, his eyes slipping shut when you lightly scratch at his scalp.

He leans forward, tongue dragging from your entrance to your throbbing clit. Your fingers tighten in his hair and he groans pulling back to speak.

"Just as sweet as I remember." He takes another moment, then his head is between your thighs.

You're not sure if it's been hours or minutes but Joel's head is still buried between your thighs, lapping at your clit and weeping hole like a starved man. Every time you think he'll give you some sort of a reprise, he just gives you more. Fucking an extra finger into you each time he comes up for breath, or simply just toying with your clit, enjoying the way you respond so diligently to his every touch.

Your hands find the edge of the counter out of sheer desperation, too scared you'll pull at his hair too harshly in this marathon of touching, that is at least until Joel's movements stop abruptly, his head lifting from between your.

"Joel, are you okay?" His large hands wrap around your wrists, prying your hands off of the marble and back into his soft hair.

"Don't stop-" he presses a sweet kiss to your thigh "-feels so fuckin' good."

He wastes no time getting back between your thighs, bringing you back to that ledge he'd left you on. The soft point of his nose brushes against your clit, your hands grasping his hair with fervour. Joel's moan is low and deep, vibrating from his lips right to your open cunt. The knowledge that you're giving him just a fraction of what he's giving you makes your chest swell, and you bet that if you had to energy to lift your head and look down on him, his trousers would be uncomfortably tight and his hips Joeling up at nothing.

He curls his fingers, hooking them perfectly against where you need him, his hand moving at an unnatural pace. You try to stay quiet so not to wake the little girl asleep upstairs, but you're being torn apart from the inside out and Joel's muffled sounds do nothing but spur you on. Once his lips pucker against your clit and his fingers rest on that perfect spot, you're finished. Torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer, you simply just let it happen, let him coax your body through a perfect orgasm until you have no choice but to push the gluttonous man away.

"So fuckin' pretty. Look at ya, all mine." He's breathless, supporting your now upright frame between his muscular arm and chest. He presses his soft lips to yours, and it's a mess of nipping and sucking. His tongue brushes up against yours slowly and deeply, the taste of your own orgasm lingering on your lips.

"Just one more. Gimme one more yeah? So fucking good for me dove." You nod, something between a hoarse sigh and a whimper when he asks for verbal confirmation. He slides two long fingers back into you with ease, right back with that bruising pace, watching with dark eyes as you grind your clit on the ball of his palm.

"That's it, I've got you sweet girl. Give it to me." Joel's efficient when he works your body. He enjoys how you clench around his fingers when your orgasm builds, or how your swollen clit respond so well to his touch. He likes it when you push your fingers into his broad shoulders, anchoring yourself to him. He fucking loves it when you muffle the high pitched scream in his shoulder, teeth digging into his skin slightly as you release over his hand.

Dark grey spots linger on the cotton of his joggers from where you'd gushed all over him, but he doesn't care. Joel cradles your face, taking you in, his own little slice of heaven on earth. His.

Your nimble fingers tug the waistband of his joggers until they're just low enough to release him from their confines. His fingers brush over yours, moulding them against him, guiding you to palm his cock in a tight fist. Joel's concentrated gaze flickers between your glistening thighs, your pretty eyes, your half parted lips, your wet pussy spread out just for him. He's frantic, chasing pleasure from your white knuckled fists.

You slip your hand free, tracing over the stubble on his chin, fingers trailing around the back of his neck, until they're locked in his hair again. Your grip is rough when you tip his head back slightly, and he shudders against you, hips chasing his fist.

You relinquish in the small amount of power, the new feeling sending a rush down your spine. His lips rest against yours, his soft noises brushing against your skin.

"You gonna let me make a mess of this cunt, huh? Gonna let me come all on your pretty pussy."

"Joel please."

"Fuck. You're too good to me." He's whining for you. Fucking whining, and it's all because of you. Joel's hips stutter and thrust into his hand, the thick head of his cock bumping against your sensitive nub, extracting every last ounce of pleasure from your already spent body.

"Joel, come inside of me. Please Joel, you're always so good to me, let me be good for you." His hips slow as he takes in your words, your hands on him. He works himself over with his fist once more before he grips himself at his thick base pressing himself against your sensitive clit once again. He slides himself down, down, until the head of his dick is pressed against your waiting hole.

The familiar stretch of him pushing into you has you whimpering, still so sensitive. Joel's breath stutters and his hands grip your hips as he fucks his tip into you. His thrusts are quick and shallow as he gets himself off and you're muttering against his lips how good he feels, how pretty he looks, how much you love it when he takes what he needs. You scratch at his scalp, and grip his hair that little bit tighter and he's keening over, pressing his lips to yours. His eyes squeeze shut and he whines into your mouth as he pumps himself empty inside of you.

He works swiftly, removing himself from your warmth, sliding you to the edge of the counter and falling to his knees.

"Fuckin perfect." He mutters to himself, watching as his spend leaks out of you, fingers toying with the mess he made. He drags his soft wet tongue against you, once, twice, slipping into your used cunt until you're clawing him away beyond over-sensitive.

But then he's up, and in front of you and you're reading and waiting knowing what he's about to give you and you're willing to accept it. He kisses you, the mixture of your slick and his come on his tongue. You take it, the debauchery act pushing you so far past the point of desire. His fingers still move against you, still playing with your clenching cunt until you're seeing stars.

"Joel, too much."

"M'sorry dove." He says, pulling his fingers away from you and sucking them into his mouth.

He moves quickly, reaching for a cloth and some of his pyjama pants from the washing pile on the dining table. He's careful when he runs it over your thighs and in between your legs, holds you carefully when he helps you down from the counter and slips you into the sleep trousers that are far too big. He's soft and warm and careful and everything in between when he holds you against his chest.

"Joel..." He hums. "I don't want to miss you anymore."

You pull away to look up at him, terrified that you'd misread the situation, that your cloudy brain and lingering crush on the father next door has made you overstep the mark.

"Don't wanna miss you either dove." His lips brush yours.

He seems nervous, it's beyond sweet, but you'd never felt so light, so relieved. "Stay?"

"What about Sarah?"

"Please, she's been begging me to date you for months." Oh.

"And what do you want?" His soft thumbs stroke your lips whilst he holds your gaze, soft yet demanding.

"I wanna take you out to dinner. Want you next to me when I wake up in the mornings. I want you to sit on my face til your crying. Wanna give you everything you want, no matter how ridiculous, I just want you, if you'll let me." Oh. Big oh. You pull him close, resting a hand over his quick beating heart, worried it just might give out.

"You already have me."

He flashes a toothy grin, his blue eyes sparkling even in a dimly lit room. He kisses you slow and sweet, pouring every ounce of care an affection into your lips making it certain. You absolutely already have him too.

[amymbona]

Let's be honest, even though I love Art, people victimize him a lot and put Patrick as the devil in the movie.

Most forget that Art was the one who wanted Patrick and Tashi to fight and break up, he was the one who told Tashi that Patrick surely slept with other girls on tour. Art was the one who decided to break a friendship of years only for a girl! I mean, he yell at Patrick without knowing what happened between him and Tashi, and then he never try to contact Patrick after the incident

People say that Patrick was a bad person for sleeping with Tashi knowing that she was Art's fiancée and then Art's spouse, but Patrick and Art were no longer friends, Art treated him badly after so many years of friendship and decided never to speak to him again, so Patrick had no reason to care about Art in that moment.

Exactly my thoughts! Like I felt bad for Art in the infamous "How are you gonna look at me if I still can't beat Patrick" scene and if they didn't give us such a yummy shot of his ass, I would have felt bad for a longer time, perhaps (just kidding). No, it was kinda cruel of Tashi to go fuck with Patrick but then again, that only showed how flawed their marriage was, and while I absolutely don't wanna call Tashi any bad things, she was bound to do that sooner or later.

Hear me out, but I believe that Tashi would subconsciously seek the presence of players who are better than Art. Because better player means better tennis, and Tashi has completely lost the better tennis. She was on the top, or could have been, and then it was all taken away from her. So what she did was mold Art into her perfect tennis boy (and he loved her enough to allow her to do so), because she wanted to get as close to the peak tennis. But the moment Patrick showed up - a person who's better than Art - Tashi couldn't resist herself.

She truly loved Art, though, I believe. That's why she asked Patrick to lose, that's why she slept with him to save her marriage. Because she was certain that if Patrick won the match, she would leave Art for him (for better tennis). And she didn't want to.

I believed Art was intentionally portrayed as the victim, for us fans to get really into it and think deeper about the morals of the movie. That it's not all simply about tennis, even though it technically is.

It happens often (speaking from experience), that two people group up against somebody. As a person who's been in a tight tied trio and sort of the middle connector and then had the two people do a whole one-eighty against me, I know exactly what Patrick was going through. We almost kinda see the story through Tashi and Art's eyes - I'm talking about the knee injury scene - and Patrick is simply portrayed as the bad guy. That's just what happens when two people of same belief stand up against the third one. They don't care for any explanation or hints of rationality, don't even wanna acknowledge that they could be in the wrong. Perhaps there are some traits of narcissism or higher self appreciation but both Tashi and Art - at that time - think that they are too flawless to be responsible for the mess.

I'm kinda sad we didn't really get to see much about Patrick after that and until the final match, aside from Atlanta and him being completely broke. It would have been so interesting to see him grieve his relationship with Art and Tashi and see him change into the asshole that he's seen as during the final match.

[wrenreid]

Do you take requests? I had a prompt to send in, but I wasn’t sure. I saw a fic for another fandom where the guy was having wet dreams in bed with y/n female reader and I thought it would be a great smut Spencer friends-to-lovers story. ❤️

Wildest Dreams

I haven’t before, but I’d love to take requests! Thank you:)

synopsis: Spencer Reid has a wet dream about his good friend and coworker. He’s highly embarrassed from where his unconscious mind wandered, so he avoids her. That is until she forces him to tell her what happened. When he does, her reaction is not what he expected. Had to add some angst because it’s who I am. Hope you like this! i hate my smut

content: 18+ MDNI, oral (m and f receiving), penetration

The team piles onto the jet after a long case. All of your faces read tired, especially Spencer’s. He plops down on the couch, something he has practically claimed as his own.

“Mind if I join you?” You ask him. “Can’t sleep on the seats.”

He scoots over, allowing space for you. Gratefully you sit down next to him, leaning your body the opposite way of his onto the arm of the couch.

Both of you are dead asleep within twenty minutes, which is highly unusual given your records of mild insomnia.

The two of you sleeping in such close proximity isn’t strange at all like one might think. You’ve been friends since you joined the BAU two years ago.

You started out as an assistant of sorts. You were still in the academy, but you were given the opportunity to work on real cases, just not in the field.

Spencer and you clicked that week since he was the only agent, other than the talented Penny Garcia, that you spent the most time with. He was off the field due to his injury from getting shot in the leg.

Watching his mind work was fascinating. It seemed like he knew everything, and honestly he kind of does. He taught you a lot that week, showing you how to apply all of the psychology and people-reading you’d learned in the academy. Being in the BAU with him was more beneficial than your classes at the academy.

You’re woken up to the sound of your own name. It’s coming from Spencer’s lips. He’s still asleep. You wake him up, worried he’s having another nightmare.

“Reid,” you say softly to not wake up the others. “Spencer. Hey, I’m right here.”

He stirs awake from your gentle shaking, his face beat red. “Y/n?” He sounds like he’s still partially asleep.

“Are you okay?” You ask him, voice still in a whisper. “Did you have another bad dream?”

Spencer shakes his head. Then he nods. He seems confused. Embarrassed.

“It’s okay. It wasn’t real,” you comfort him, patting his knee gently.

He pulls the blanket over his lap more, causing you to move your hand. “I know,” he sighs, nodding.

“We should be landing soon,” you say. “Maybe you’ll get better rest at home.”

Spencer shrugs slightly and turns his face away from you. You don’t take it to heart. You know how these dreams can be for him. Real. Terrifying. You know because you have them too.

When the plane touches ground and comes to a stop, all of you get off the plane gratefully. It’s late. Nearly 2 in the morning. Hotch tells everyone to get home safely.

“Do you want a ride?” You ask Spencer once both of you have your bags situated.

“I’ll just get a cab,” he tells you quickly.

“Really, it’s no problem,” you say, “It’s late.”

“It’s fine, Y/n.”

His voice has been clipped and distant for the last half hour. Why is he acting this way? It couldn’t have been something you did because you don’t remember doing anything.

Instead of fighting him on whatever it is that’s up his ass right now, you nod and walk to your car.

The two of you take turns driving sometimes. It saves gas money and allows you company on the 40ish minute drive from your neighborhood in D.C. to Quantico. You don’t live too far away from each other, only an 11 minute drive. It would’ve been no problem to take him home. But he opted for alone time. You guess you can’t blame him.

“Are you going out with us tonight?” You question your friend, rolling your chair to his desk.

“I don’t think so,” Spencer answers quickly.

“Why not? We haven’t had a team outing in ages. Let loose, Reid.”

“Y/n,” he warns.

“Fine,” you huff, rolling your eyes. “Movie night then?”

“Movie night?”

“Yeah. Just you and me. That new horror movie is on HBO now,” you wiggle your eyebrows, knowing his love for horror can persuade him.

“I don’t know,” Spencer says, pressing his lips together. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“You don’t think what’s a good idea?” Your eyebrows raise.

The two of you have had movie nights multiple times in your two year friendship friendship.

“Just leave it alone, okay?” Spencer says, shrugging you off.

You don’t want to make a scene at work, so you roll your way back to your own desk and continue the paperwork from the last case.

Spencer has never acted this way toward you. Sure, he’s been secluded and reserved, but he’s never been one to shrug you off, to push you away.

Something is up. Something has made him close himself off. He can’t keep shutting you out like this, not without telling you why.

So after work, you try to catch him before he leaves. Unfortunately, Morgan decides to tell you and Emily a story, and Spencer slips out of the bullpen while you listen.

You’re a confrontational person. And your closest friend is avoiding you. This means one thing. You force him to tell you what’s up.

You knock on his door, not too loudly. He opens it after a few seconds.

“Y/n, what are you-?” He starts.

“What did I do?”

“What?” He huffs softly.

You fold your arms, standing in front of him with a serious face. “You’ve been avoiding me for days. I don’t know why, so tell me. What did I do to make you mad at me?”

Spencer’s face softens. “I’m not mad you.”

“Then why are you being so short with me? Why are you avoiding me? You’ve been a little bit of a dick.”

“I’m not avoiding you,” he says then pauses. “Okay, I’ve been avoiding you. But I’m done now. You’re right, it’s dickish.”

It’s always a little funny when Spencer curses. It never sounds natural.

“Why though?” You stay stern, needing to know what’s up with him.

“Come in,” he motions his head toward his living room.

You oblige, making your way to his couch. He sits beside you. You’ve been on this couch a thousand times together.

“So?” You question.

“You’re really going to make me say it?”

“Yes, I am,” you tell him.

Spencer sighs. “When we were on the couch the other night on the jet, I had a dream…”

“Yeah, I know that,” you say.

“It was about you.”

“Did something bad happen?”

He shakes his head. “Well, it depends on what you think is bad. We were in bed together.”

A laugh bursts through you. “Wait, you’ve been avoiding me because you had a wet dream about me?”

“Don’t call it that,” he groans.

“That’s what it is!” You chuckle, a big grin on your face. “That’s no big deal, Spence. It happens to people all the time. You have no control over what your unconscious mind conjures up.”

“So you’ve had one?” He asks.

“No.”

The blood has rushed to his cheeks deeply. He’s embarrassed.

“I haven’t thought about you like that in my sleep,” you tell him. “But perhaps I have while awake.”

Spencer lifts his head off the back of the couch. His eyebrows are furrowed. “What?”

It’s your turn to blush. “Yeah. I mean, the thought has occurred a few times.”

“I don’t quite know how to respond to that,” he presses his lips together.

It’s cute when he does that. It’s nerdy and shy.

“You don’t have to,” you say softly. “I just wanted you to know you’re not in the wrong for having a dream about me.”

The two of you have absentmindedly inched closer to each other. Your hand rests on his leg.

“Are you about to kiss me?” You ask, looking into his brown eyes.

“Only if you want me to,” he says.

“Show me what we did in your dream,” you whisper in his ear.

What happens next is not something you ever thought you and Spencer would do. You weren’t lying when you said you’ve thought about it, but you never thought he would’ve felt the same.

Your lips make contact softly at first, but his neediness takes over and his mouth dominates yours.

You always thought Spencer would be more of a gentle lover, but it turns out he’s an all consuming powerhouse.

He pulls you onto his lap, his hands squeezing your thighs and ass. He’s grown into himself well in the past year, and he’s definitely gotten more confident. You like this side of Spencer. A lot.

He tells you to lift your arms up, and you obey the order, eager for him to do more. Your shirt comes off quickly and his hands leave your ass and grab your tits. He’s not too rough, but he’s definitely not gentle.

You smile down at him before connecting your lips to his neck, careful to leave your marks in places he could easily hide under his clothes.

“Was I on top or bottom in your dream?” You ask, voice low and raspy.

“Both,” he answers, fingers working on the buttons of your pants.

You slide off of him and shimmy out of your work pants. You stand before him in mix matched underwear. He doesn’t care that they’re different colors. He wants them gone.

He lifts his shirt above his head and tosses it to the ground. “We should take this to my room. There’s not much space on the couch.”

“Yes sir. Or should I say doctor?” You wiggle your eyebrows.

“Yes, yes you should,” he grins, obviously liking the use of his title on your lips.

He follows you into his bedroom. You’ve laid in his bed on late nights multiple times. But he never shared it with you. He must’ve been too scared his true feelings would come out at night like they did on the jet.

“Lay down,” he says softly.

“I thought I would do something for you first,” you say, pulling him in by the belt loop.

“No need, sweetheart.”

“But I want to,” you tell him.

He nods. “As you wish.”

After slipping down his pants, you position yourself on your knees. He hands you a pillow so you don’t get sore. That makes you smile.

You take just the tip at first after running your thumb along it. After getting use to the feeling of him in your mouth, your head bobs up and down on him. Spencer’s hands tug on your hair as he finishes in your mouth.

“Your turn,” he says with a smile, looking down at you.

“If you please, doctor.”

His mouth is on your clit in no time. His tongue and lips work magic, causing you to call out his name.

“God, Spencer,” you whine, your hands tangled in his hair. It’s much shorter than it was when you met him, it makes him look older. In a good way.

With a combination of his fingers inside you and mouth working on your bundle of nerves, your legs are shaking and you’re finishing.

Spencer hardly gives you time to catch your breath before his lips are on yours and he’s hovering above you. You don’t mind. You need him.

“Are you ready, darling?” He asks.

When you say yes, he slowly slips himself inside you. He gentle at first, giving you both time to adjust.

His thrusts gradually speed up, and the slow and gentle turns into fast and rough. The sounds of your heavy breaths and moans fill his bedroom.

“Fuck, Y/n,” he groans, hand on your neck.

“Don’t stop,” you breathe out, wrapping your legs around his torso.

It doesn’t take much longer for you both to be moaning loud and shaking once again. You clench around him as you come, causing his own finish to release from him.

You bask in the high of the adrenaline coursing through your body. The two of you breathe heavily, your hearts pounding.

“Wow,” you sigh, moving your hair out of your face. “So, was that as good as your dream?”

“Much better,” Spencer says, rubbing your cheekbone with his thumb gently.

tags: @shakespear-picaso-lovechild @kylakins88 @jazzerbelle14 @cynbx @yazzyu @regulus-black-223048 @virginmusicloverr36 @sebs-oxygen @jolotta @booktvmoviefangirl @nevielei @pauline5525mgg @necromaniackat @r3idsp3ncer @impossiblynoisywasteland @jazzerbelle14

[waywardsou2]

Summer of Bad Batch 2024

Week 3

Prompt: "It's just a scratch"

A/N: Not me writing this literally 24 hours before the next prompts come out haha. Ngl tho it's kinda of topic but i just wanted to do some retired Pabu writing and this prompt kinda subtly fit it, I was planning on making it more angsty but it ended up being nice and fluffy. Anyways I hope you enjoy. This will be on my ao3 as well. Tags: none, fluff, slight injury

The afternoon sun shone down on the rocks that Omega and Echo were standing on. Despite Hemlock being gone and Tantiss destroyed Echo wasn’t done training Omega.

Since his cadet days he had done his best to work by the book and train for as long and as hard as he could. Spending time with Clone Force 99 has taught him to loosen up just a little bit, but old habits die hard.

He knows Omega isn’t a soldier and her biggest threat was sitting at the bottom a valley but she needed to know how to keep herself safe in a galaxy so vast, because he knew that eventually one day she would leave Pabu. It was a given but in the meantime all he could do was prepare her.

Right now with the sun beginning to sink lower in the sky but Echo was trying to get as much training done with Omega as he could.

“You need to keep your guard up; one wrong move and you are open and vulnerable. And then you get hurt, or worse” He took another light swing at Omega, and she brought her arm up to block his punch. She did so successfully.

“Where are your weakest points?” he says testing her as he makes another swing.

“My throat, ribs and knees. I can’t leave those open or in range”

“Good. What points do you aim for?”

“The sides of the head and eyes, neck and legs. Attacking the head can disorient, damaging the eyes can be dangerous, neck can be fatal, and legs can subdue them”

“Yes perfect. And what if they are carrying a weapon” he swings again

“Focus on disarming them then either fight or run”

“Excellent” he says before taking one final swing at Omega

Her progress has been promising; she has been able to keep up with him during exercise. She can shoot her practice targets with accuracy that even Crosshair has praised her for. Her ability to complete the terrain courses he sets up have been slower than the rest of her progress, but he knows at the very least she’ll survive.

“The suns going down but I want to try one last thing. You think you’re up for it?”

Omega is breathing hard, but she is ready. She’s going to prove to Echo that she is just as capable as the rest of her brother or any of the regs. Tech has given her the knowledge, Wrecker had taught her demolitions, Hunter had taught her how to track and scout and survive on next to nothing, and Crosshair had taught her the ins and outs of every weapon imaginable, but Echo taught her how to adapt. How to defend herself and defeat enemies of all kinds. If she was able to keep up with and stand up to him then she would be ready for anything the galaxy will throw at her.

“I’ve got the boys to organise their own obstacles for you to complete all over Pabu. Consider this your final test of sorts. At the end of the route, you will have to defend yourself against a surprise attacker – me. If you can best me then I’ve taught you all I can. You think you’re ready Havoc 5?”

Omega takes a deep breath in then smirks at Echo “I’m ready!”

He smiles back at her, looking at her now he takes a moment to notice how much she’s grown. He remembers when they first met her, how small she was, how often they had to get her out of trouble. But now she’s taller, stronger. Her shoulders have widened and her training has helped her build up a stronger frame. Her hair had grown out which Hunter had helped her keep in a tight braid. His years of having to deal with longer hair started to become useful again since she grew it out. They were luck because the rest of the batch would have been useless when it came to hair.

So, Echo set her off on the path and made his way to the final location waiting for her to arrive. He set himself up in the shadows by the entrance to the cave and waited for her to arrive.

Omegas first challenge was set up by Crosshair, she had to complete a small parkour course whilst avoiding stun blasts from him as well as hitting her own targets. Crosshair almost got her, but she ducked just in time and shot her last target. Trying to hide his pride in Omega, he directs her to her next step of her test.

She made her way around the beach of Pabu and came to where Wrecker had set up several types of explosives along the beach. Some hidden and some in plain sight. Omega counted at least eight visible to her. As soon as she got to Wrecker, he clicked the detonator and told her she had 30 seconds to defuse them all. So she got to work moving swiftly one by one to each bomb disarming them, she thought she had tripped one of the last ones but she was able to reroute the circuit and cancel the detonation command. With only three seconds left, thanks you Wrecker’s rather loud counting, she completed her task. Wrecker roared with approval and sent her to her next task with a pat on the back that almost sent her into the sand.

She next found Tech sitting down a side street along the main town centre. His test was a quick-thinking verbal response test. He thew facts and questions at her with lightning speed as she answered just as quickly, she stumbled over her words once or twice but was able to pick herself back and up and continue to recount the information Tech has taught her over her years with them on the Marauder and even on Pabu, giving her exercises and tests to make sure her information was up to date. Once he was happy with the questions, she had answered he told her she had to go to the small forest at the back of the island. She guessed Hunter was waiting there for her.

When she got there she was a little confused at first as Hunter was no where to be found but when she stepped onto a small piece of paper with the word “Come find me” written on them she knew what her next test would be. She took in her surroundings and made note of every clue to where Hunter was hiding. An indent in the dirt which was a boot track that had attempted to be covered. Disrupted leaves moved in the direction opposite to the wind. Any whisper of movement or a breath taken in too sharply. Eventually she found Hunter hiding up between two trees, his back pressed to one and his feet to the other.

“Found you” Omega says, and Hunter lets himself fall to the ground gracefully

“Good job kid, you beat your record time,-” He ruffled her hair “-go on Echo’s waiting for you at the cave”

“Roger that!” She said and sprinted back to the other side of the island.

Hunter smiled after her, watching her run away. She had gotten fast, really fast. Her comfortability with the lay of the land made her lightning quick. As he watcher her go the pride in his heart swelled. Omega had come so far, and he was proud of every single thing she was doing to improve. It reminded him of seeing his brother progress when they were cadets. Watching them move up from Cadets to “Shinnies” and then to Troopers that were being dispatched every free moment they got. He remembers how Shaak Ti looked at them when they “graduated” she praised them for their effort and progress. It’s one of those memories that stuck with him, and he hoped with his brothers too.

As Omega made her way back to the cave her heart began to race inside her chest. She was ready, she knew that. She had completed all of her tests and done all of her training along the way, but she knew that she had to complete this final test for her brothers to fully see her as capable and as trained as them. For them to recognise her as a soldier the same as them. She knew that didn’t want her to be a soldier that they wanted her to a kid, but she was a clone like them, and she wanted to prove to them that she was no different.

As she stepped into the entrance of the cave she slowed from her run to a hesitant walk, making a slow rotation as she walked further into the cave. She had to wait for Echo to appear, she was listening, preparing herself for the first attack.

And then it came, out from the shadows high up in the walls Echo leaped at her taking a sweeping dive for her legs. She jumped and turned around to face him, bringing her arms up in a guard position. He makes another swift attack for her, and she ducks.

“You can’t stay on the defence forever” he calls to her and her brow furrows

She knows this is her final test, but she worries that she might hurt Echo is she uses all her training. But then again, that is what he wants.

Echo keeps up his barrage of attacks aiming for her head and her arms, leaping around to attack her sides and her back. He makes swiping kicks for her legs, but she is able to keep him at bay. But he keeps encroaching, quickening the pace of his attacks and forcing her to move quicker each time, keeping her thinking on her feet.

She knows the test won’t be over until she manages to knock Echo down but she just can’t bring herself to attack him.

Faster and faster his attack comes, and Omega can feel her arms bruising up slowly, she’s starting to get agitated. She’s never going to complete this test if she doesn’t act now.

So she does, she ducks and hides in Echo’s blind spot kicking in the back of his knees. He buckles and turns on his knee bringing his arm up to block an attempted strike to his shoulder. But Omega is fast, and she takes his arm and pulls it backwards causing Echo to be put off balance and pulled onto his back. She attempts to get on top of him to pin him, but he presses a boot to her chest and pushes her off. He stands up again and she recovers from his attack, he leaps for her as soon as he is on his feet again. But this time she is ready; she grabs his arm as he makes a grab for her and twists her body so his arm is pulled away from her and his chest. Continuing her spin, she pulls him further and with all of her strength she tugs sending him stumbling forward and falling into the dirt. Before he can even stand up again, she has crawled on top of him and subdued him.

She won.

“Good job kid” he said as she crawled off him and offered him her hand and helped him to his feet once more.

When she grabbed onto his hand, she felt dirt and something wet on his hand. When she took her hand away there was a light smear of blood on her hand, looking worriedly at her own hand she grabbed at Echo’s and saw a gash across his palm and gazing on his fingers.

“Oh Echo, your hurt”

“Nah, its just a scratch, I survived getting blown up remember? I’ll be alright kid” she doesn’t let go of his hand and carefully begins to wipe away and pick the larger chunks of dirt from his hand

“You should be proud of yourself kid. You’re officially a Clone Trooper now” He stops her from clearing the debris from his hand and pulls her into a hug instead.

Omega wraps her arms around him and squeezes his middle, she is tall enough now to be able to hide her face in the crook of his neck.

Behind them they heard loud yell and Wreckers voice saying, “Way to go Omega!”

Omega lets go of Echo and the two of them walk over to the rest of the squad, they head back to their home in lower Pabu praising her as they go.

Today has been a good day.