#every single time you have ever had a fear of something blowing up in your face killing you instantly. well.

[maikelfist]

Working Title: Man With Big Dick Fucks His Precious Boy

Okay so I had the weirdest, most random ass idea for post-breakup BuckTommy and it just got more and more random the more I kept going. It's all over the place, I kind of rushed near the end, I have no idea where I was going with this. I would call this a fever dream more than I would call it a fic but it's here now so might as well throw it at you guys PS: Don't get fooled by the working title, this is more sappy than sexy

Buck's sex life went from mind-blowing, life-changing and so-so-active to absolutely nothing in what felt like seconds, and unfortunately, his libido hasn't gotten the memo yet. He'd been advised to throw himself out there again multiple times now, but every single cell in his body recoils at the idea. I'm not your last, I'm your first. Yeah well, we'll see about that.

It feels like a no-brainer to start watching gay porn since that's what he's currently missing the most. He jerks off to a handsome guy—the hint of cleft in his chin may or may not have been the reason Buck clicked on the video—fucking into a pretty twunk, and honestly, Buck is having a good time. It’s only when tears begin to swell in his eyes after he comes with Tommy’s name on his lips that he realizes he should not do that again.

The next videos he watches pointedly feature plump bears and dainty twinks, but even then, Buck can't help but make comparisons. Can't hold a rhythm, not attentive enough, where are the reassurances?

Buck comes to a visceral, gut-wrenching realization: Every single guy he considers will have to measure up to one Thomas fucking Kinard from now on.

So.

No gay porn for Buck anymore.

He moves to het videos, and the second realization of his latest porn binge hits him a lot quicker. There is absolutely no way he will ever be able to go back to regular straight sex again. Buck is very, very bi, and even relationships with women will have to be queer from now on.

Of course, porn isn't reality, but being confronted with the exaggerated heteronormativity of it all—the idea of fulfilling a society-given role after Buck learned what things can feel like when he's allowed to be himself—makes his stomach churn.

Living in a post-Tommy world is not an easy feat.

In between baking like he's preparing for an apocalypse, Buck keeps going down a rabbit hole of trying to find porn that would help him take his mind off Tommy.

Luckily, after browsing the most obscure, likely virus-infested websites the internet has to offer, Buck finds a video that instantly becomes a staple in his tabs—a comforting presence whenever he feels lonely, which these days is all the time. He doesn't even bother closing it.

As long as it took him to find the video, it’s quickly forgotten when Tommy and Buck make up.

The reunion is messy and like a balm for Buck's wounds. It is filled with tears and Tommy's ability to make difficult conversations feel easy—something Buck had desperately missed when Tommy chose to walk out of his life. It’s a skill Tommy can apparently lose when he’s petrified with fear. Buck vows to chip away at all of Tommy's worries now that Buck is aware of them. Now that Tommy lets him.

It's strange and not surprising at all how much like coming home it feels to have Tommy back. How easy it is for Buck to cook for them in his kitchen while Tommy looks for something they can watch later on Buck's laptop.

"I found this documentary about hyper-regional food," Tommy says.

Buck perks up from the herbs he's cutting. "Like Threads of God? Do you know that only three women in Sardinia know how to make that type of pasta?"

Tommy hums at that. "Sounds like we don't need to watch it."

Buck laughs and lowers his eyes to the herbs again. "No, I want to. But isn't there a new part of that car restoration series you like?"

"We can watch that later." Tommy emphasizes the last word in a way that makes another part of Buck perk up.

Early in their relationship, they found out that there are few things that can make Buck relax and fall asleep quicker than the sight of competent hands making old things look new to the rhythmic sound of metal being hammered and ground. This means Tommy has to make sure it's him that gets to tire Buck out before the video has a chance to. Thankfully, Tommy seems to be fine with Buck never reaching the end of any of the restoration videos he likes.

Tommy makes an intrigued noise of interest that breaks Buck out of his musings. "Ooor we can watch this."

Buck listens to the sounds of shuffling and smacking, confusion furrowing his brows before recognition seizes him by the throat.

"Oh my God!" The parsley Buck is holding ends up somewhere in Nirvana as he hurriedly frees his hands to grab his laptop. "OhmyGodohmyGodohmyGod—" Since when is closing a laptop so fucking difficult?

Tommy lets him fumble for a moment, a teasing smirk playing at his lips. It’s infuriating how he waits until Buck, wide-eyed and pink-cheeked, finally meets his gaze before speaking slowly and deliberately, savoring each syllable.

"Woman With Dragon Dick Fucks Her Precious Girl."

Buck is glad he wasn't cutting chili because there's no way he can stop himself from pressing his fingers into his eyes as he whines, "You don't have to say it out loud!"

"I simply appreciate the originality of the title."

God, why was Buck a firefighter when he couldn't even do anything about his face being on fucking fire?

"Look, I missed you, and I couldn't watch gay porn because they either reminded me too much of you or they weren't you, and regular straight porn was tedious, so I found this feminist porn site, and I didn't feel bad about supporting them, and please, please don't judge—"

"Evan." Tommy says his name in a way that allows no ifs and buts. "I'm not judging." Buck has learned to hold his breath when Tommy speaks to him in that no-nonsense sternness. It's a Pavlovian reaction that sends shivers down his spine. Tommy raises his thumb to the birthmark on Buck's temple, gently brushing it as his voice softens. "I'm taking note." Buck exhales shakily and leans into the touch.

Tommy reaches for the laptop, opens it, and enters the password that Buck shared with him even before they broke up. He moves to stand behind Buck, arms wrapped around him, as he hits play again.

The titular precious girl is on all fours, purring kittenish noises into the mattress as the woman kisses her neck and shoulders, murmuring sweet nothings into her skin. She's fucking her strap-on in between her thighs, making sure the dildo rubs against all the right spots.

"The shape is interesting," Tommy observes. He glances at Evan, unsure of what kind of reaction his comment will provoke. Maybe some more bashfulness, maybe a sweet sigh similar to the ones the girl is making on screen while the dildo enters her.

Instead, Evan turns to him with an excited smile on his full lips. "Yeah, right? I found this website. Wait, hold on—" Evan pauses the video, opens a new tab, and Tommy is hit with the sight of colorful, artfully crafted fantasy dildos. Handmade, apparently.

Evan starts rambling about which ones he finds the most appealing, what media they're inspired by. Tommy has never heard him talk this much about pop culture, and no one is ever allowed to know that Evan learned about Avatar this way. Chimney would get an aneurysm.

Having Evan in his life means being in a constant state of whiplash, and Tommy has learned that he wouldn't have it any other way.

Tommy keeps in mind which ones Evan pointed out and makes a mental note to take a look at the cock sleeves the store has to offer before gently nudging Evan back to the porn.

"What else do you like about the video?" Evan relaxes back into him as they keep watching. Tommy can guess what Evan might find hot about it, but he would like to hear it from Evan before making assumptions. He also just wants to hear Evan, period.

"I like— I like that she's sweet to her? Most of the time, women in straight femdom porn are just mean, like men being dominated by women is automatically degrading. I don't like that."

Tommy hums in acknowledgment, enjoys the small gasp he receives as he dips his fingers into a gap in Evan's button-down shirt, playing with the trail of hair on Evan's stomach. That Evan likes sweet talk isn't new information, but hearing it is always nice. "Keep going," Tommy encourages.

"But she's also kind of… possessive about it? She calls her 'my treasure' a couple of times. I love it when she does. It's like—it's—she—she's—"

"Cherishing her?"

Evan sighs and nods, rubbing his temple against Tommy's.

Tommy leans in, noses at the pulse point of Evan's neck as he goes in for the kill. "Claiming her?"

Evan's moan sounds like it was punched out of him, and Tommy barely has enough time to hold onto the laptop to keep it from being dragged down as Evan turns to kiss him.

Tommy braces himself, gathering more and more courage with each kiss before he makes claims he prays to whatever God might be listening aren’t wrong. "You want me to hold on to you? Make you mine and never let go?"

A heart-wrenching sob escapes Evan's mouth, and Tommy swallows it greedily. "God yes, please!"

Evan keeps pressing pleas against his lips, and Tommy desperately wants to give in, but there is just one small thing that needs to be done first.

"Evan, the thing you're making, can—can that wait?" The last time they allowed themselves to get distracted while cooking, Evan kept pouting afterwards over the food being 'ruined'. In an attempt to cheer him up, Tommy had said that he couldn't tell the difference which had just made things worse. He wouldn't make that mistake again. There are many mistakes he wouldn't make again.

Evan utters a dazed noise before clarity settles into his features. "Oh. Yeah. It'll just marinate."

Tommy nods and moves to turn off the stove, Evan clinging to his side. He returns his attention to Evan, fingers playing with his curls.

The stove was a short distraction, but long enough to ensure that Tommy's next words are spoken with all the gravitas they deserve. "My treasure."

Another broken sound escapes Evan's throat as he burrows into Tommy and continues what they started.

Tommy hates breaking things, but, God, does he love repairing them. He knows he has a lot to make up for, and he will do it happily. If that means wiping away his boyfriend's tears and indulging in his trauma-induced dragon kink, so be it.

[cruel-seduction]

Bruised and Healing

"Do you know the scene where the heroine repeatedly punches the hero's chest, her blows soft but filled with all the anger and heartbreak she’s bottled up, and he just stands there, taking it, until he finally, slowly, grabs her wrists? And she just breaks, sobbing into him because it’s all too much to bear? Yeah, the real drug. That’s the plot. So sit back, grab your snacks, and enjoy, bitches."

Content Warning:

This story contains themes of emotional hurt, fear, and the aftermath of trauma. It includes moments of intense emotional conflict and personal vulnerability. There are also references to physical injuries.

GLIMPSE - “You don’t get to decide that,” you said quietly, your voice still shaky but steadier now. “You don’t get to decide what I can handle.”

Peter blinked, his lips parting as if to argue, but nothing came out. Instead, he gave a soft, humourless laugh. “You’re right,” he admitted, a flicker of his usual self breaking through. “You always are. That’s actually very unfair, by the way.”

It had been days. Days of uncertainty and endless waiting, your phone clutched tightly in your hand as you stared at the screen, praying for a call, a message, anything. But there was nothing. Not a single word from Peter. The silence hung in the air like a suffocating cloud, and the longer it went on, the more the anxiety gnawed at you.

Every time you walked into the apartment, the absence of his presence hit you like a punch in the gut. His stuff was still there—his sneakers by the door, his jacket thrown over the back of the couch—but Peter was nowhere to be found. You knew he had to be out there, somewhere, doing Spider-Man things, but you also knew that sometimes that meant danger, and sometimes that meant he wouldn’t come back.

Each minute that passed felt like an eternity, the panic simmering under your skin, threatening to boil over. You tried to be patient. You tried to remind yourself that Peter was strong, capable, that he could handle anything. But you couldn’t help it. The images of him injured, alone, or worse, plagued you relentlessly.

It was on the fourth night, when the exhaustion from waiting and worrying was starting to swallow you whole, that he finally showed up.

You hadn’t heard him come in. Your eyes were half-lidded as you sat on the couch, staring blankly at the wall, when you heard the quiet thud of his shoes hitting the floor. You whipped around, heart racing, only to see him standing in the doorway, looking like he had crawled straight out of hell.

His face was bruised, cut in a few places, and his usually neat hair was matted with sweat. His suit was torn in places, the fabric hanging from his body like something that had been through a storm. His eyes were bloodshot, tired—worse than tired. They looked hollow, haunted. He was barely standing on his own two feet, swaying ever so slightly.

“Peter…” The word came out shakily, as if you’d forgotten how to breathe.

He winced slightly at your voice but gave you a weak smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Hey… I’m fine, really.”

You stood up quickly, taking a few cautious steps toward him, but then the reality of everything came crashing down like a tidal wave. Your fear, your frustration, and the helplessness of the past few days all rushed to the surface in an instant. The anger burned, and it consumed you like wildfire.

“Fine? You’re fine?” The words came out in a sharp breath, louder than you expected, and you took a step closer to him. “Where the hell have you been, Peter? I was worried. I couldn’t—God, I couldn’t even breathe while you were gone. You didn’t even—you didn’t even call.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. He wasn’t ready for this. Hell, he didn’t know what to say either. His chest ached, but not from the bruises or wounds—he was aching from your voice, the accusation. He could feel it in his bones, how badly you’d been hurt, and yet, he couldn’t find the words to fix it.

“You can’t just vanish like that,” you continued, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and anger. “I don’t care how tough you are, Peter! I don’t care if you’re Spider-Man or whatever the hell you think you are. You don’t just disappear and expect me to be fine.”

You took another step toward him, the fury inside of you like a constant hum in your chest. And then, without thinking, you were on him, your hands pushing against his chest in rapid succession. One hit, two, three. Each one harder than the last. Your frustration, your fear, your worry—all of it was exploding in that moment.

Peter didn’t flinch. He didn’t try to stop you. He just stood there, letting you hit him, each strike echoing in the still apartment. His chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, but he didn’t say anything. He wouldn’t stop you. He knew why you were doing it. He deserved it.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

You kept hitting him, more rapidly now, the tension in your body unbearable. You could feel the heat of your anger in your fingertips, each strike a desperate plea for him to acknowledge the panic that had taken over you. Every hit sent shockwaves through him, but he didn’t protest. He stood still, letting you vent your frustration.

And then, just as you were about to pull away, his hand, large and warm, gently wrapped around your wrist. His touch was so gentle, it didn’t hurt—just grounded you, stopped you in your tracks. The rapid fire of your hands came to a halt, and you finally looked up at him, your chest heaving, your face flushed with emotion.

Peter didn’t say anything at first. He just stood there, looking down at you, his fingers still wrapped around your wrist, his gaze soft, regretful. But it was his other hand that reached out for you next. It moved slowly, almost like he was afraid to touch you, but then it landed gently on your waist, pulling you closer into him.

You stiffened for a moment, the tension between you still thick, but there was something in his touch—something that was more than just physical. You could feel his exhaustion, his guilt, his pain—all of it bleeding through the simple act of holding you. And then, without a word, he bent his head slightly, his forehead resting gently against yours, the space between you still filled with so many unsaid things.

His chest rose and fell beneath your hand, the weight of his exhaustion settling into your bones. And as you stood there, in the quiet of your apartment, surrounded by the remnants of your anger and his mistakes, you finally understood. He didn’t have to say it out loud. You both already knew.

Your breath hitched in your throat as his forehead pressed gently against yours. The heat of the moment, the flood of emotions, everything you’d been bottling up for days, it all surged to the surface. You tried to hold it in, tried to stay strong, but it was no use. The tears began to fall, hot and uncontrolled, stinging as they rolled down your cheeks.

You turned your face away quickly, not wanting him to see, but Peter felt it—he felt the tremble of your body as your shoulders shook with silent sobs. His grip on your wrist loosened, and without missing a beat, he pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you, not caring about his own exhaustion or the fact that he was still barely holding himself together.

“Baby… no.” His voice was strained, barely above a whisper, as he gently cupped your face, his thumb wiping away the tears that had escaped. “Please don’t cry.”

You tried to push him away, embarrassed by your breakdown, but he held you tighter, pressing your head into his chest. His shirt was damp, but you didn’t care. You needed to feel his warmth, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear. You felt weak, vulnerable, exposed, and it terrified you. But Peter didn’t let you pull away. He gently cupped the back of your head, cradling you against him, his fingers threading through your hair as he whispered your name softly.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” Peter murmured, his voice thick with emotion. He tilted your head up so you could look at him, his eyes searching yours with that familiar, heart-wrenching intensity. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I never wanted to hurt you.”

You sniffled, wiping your eyes roughly, trying to gain some composure, but Peter wasn’t having any of it. “Hey,” he said softly, his hand moving to gently caress your cheek. “You’re everything to me. I hate seeing you like this. I can’t stand it.”

You just shook your head, fresh tears welling in your eyes. “I thought… I thought I lost you,” you choked out, your voice raw from the fear that had been eating at you for days. “I couldn’t do it again. I can’t handle the thought of—"

“No.” He interrupted you firmly, his hands framing your face as he leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours again. “You won’t. You won’t lose me. I swear to you. I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

Peter’s voice was low and steady, his tone a promise, as he brushed your tears away, his thumb tracing the outline of your lips in that slow, comforting gesture. The tenderness in his touch was enough to quiet the storm inside of you. You let him soothe you, letting him wipe away the remnants of your tears as he murmured reassurances. His words, though soft, were solid, like the quiet conviction of someone who had seen and survived far too much to lose anything else.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered again, his lips brushing the top of your head as he pulled you even closer, enveloping you in his arms completely. “You mean more to me than anything, you know that? More than anything in this world. I don’t want to hurt you. I’ll never put you through that again.”

His voice cracked on the last sentence, and you could feel the vulnerability in him, too—his fear of losing you, of failing you. That broken part of him that was so fiercely protective, yet still haunted by the constant weight of his life as Spider-Man. But right now, in this moment, it doesn't matter. You were together, and that was enough.

“I was so scared,” you finally whispered, your voice muffled against his chest.

The words nearly broke him. His head dipped, and he pressed a kiss to the crown of your hair, his lips lingering there as he breathed you in. He didn’t speak for a moment, didn’t trust himself to, afraid his voice might crack under the weight of it all.

“Scared?” he finally repeated, his tone soft and reverent. “Of me?”

You shook your head against him, your voice cracking. “Not of you—scared for you. I thought…” You didn’t finish the sentence. You couldn’t.

Peter exhaled shakily, his hand stilling in your hair before cupping the back of your head gently. He leaned down further, resting his chin lightly on top of your head. “I know,” he said quietly, his voice thick. “I know. And I’m sorry I put you through that.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his hand coming up to cradle your face. His thumb brushed the dampness from your cheek, even as you tried to turn your head away, unwilling to let him see you like this. But Peter wasn’t having it.

“Hey,” he whispered, his tone firm but impossibly gentle. “Look at me.”

You hesitated, but the softness in his voice—and the warmth in his touch—coaxed you into meeting his gaze. His brown eyes were filled with something you couldn’t quite name, something raw and overwhelming, but it made your chest tighten.

“You know me,” he said softly. “You know me. You’re the strongest person I know, but I—I’ve gotta stop putting you through this. I swear, I’ll be better.” He leaned his forehead against yours again, closing his eyes. “Just… I can’t stand to see you like this. I hate it. You deserve so much better than me coming home looking like—like this.”

“You don’t get to decide that,” you said quietly, your voice still shaky but steadier now. “You don’t get to decide what I can handle.”

Peter blinked, his lips parting as if to argue, but nothing came out. Instead, he gave a soft, humourless laugh. “You’re right,” he admitted, a flicker of his usual self breaking through. “You always are. That’s actually very unfair, by the way.”

Despite yourself, a small, watery chuckle escaped your lips, and Peter’s eyes lit up like he’d just seen the sun for the first time in days.

“There it is,” he murmured with a crooked grin. “That laugh could cure just about anything. Might even get rid of this bruised rib situation I’ve got going on.”

You shook your head, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “You’re an idiot,” you muttered.

“Yeah, well, you’re stuck with this idiot,” he said, his tone playful but warm. “Because no matter how mad you get at me, or how many times I screw up, I’m not going anywhere.”

The vulnerability in his voice struck something deep inside you, and before you could stop yourself, you were leaning up, your arms wrapping around his neck. Peter caught you effortlessly, his hands settling on your waist as he pulled you closer.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice quieter now, his lips brushing lightly against your temple. “I mean it. You’re the only thing that keeps me sane out there. The only thing that keeps me coming home.”

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze dropping to your lips, and his breath fanned across your skin as he hesitated, giving you the space to pull away if you wanted. But you didn’t. You leaned into him instead, your lips finding his in a kiss that was slow, deliberate, and filled with all the things you couldn’t put into words.

Peter’s hands shifted, one sliding up to cup your jaw while the other remained firm at your waist, anchoring you to him. The kiss deepened gradually, his lips moving against yours with a tenderness that made your knees weak. He tasted like salt and something metallic—probably from a busted lip—but you didn’t care.

When you finally broke apart, you were both breathless, his forehead pressed to yours again as he whispered, “I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

And in that moment, you believed him.

Border by @enchanthings-a

[gender-euphowrya]

the way my grandma tries to shove her irrational fears on me and then guilt-trips me when i don't indulge her

[cherrygirlfriend]

touchy subject III pairing: reader x exfiancé!rafe synopsis: seeing your ex-fiancé after four years. warnings: angst and comfort. fluff. mentions of miscarriage/stillbirth and DUI. wc: 2.7k part 3 and the last part of touchy subject! click here for part 1, click here for part 2 i really liked writing for them and honestly i'm considering occasionally writing blurbs for them and what their relationship would shape into, lmk if you'd be interested!!

seeing you in front of that store felt like it might've killed rafe. the first face he fell in love with, the woman who'd left him with nothing but scars and an engagement ring. somehow, he still managed to stay alive.

but hearing you say his name in the soft voice he hadn't heard in over four years, the same one that you used to tell him you loved him every single night before your body went slack in his arms, that might have been the final blow.

"what are you doing here?" you managed to mutter, your hand instinctively going to your locket, squeezing it in your hand, and the gesture didn't go unnoticed by rafe.

"what's this?" rafe asked as the two of you laid in bed, his finger tracing the patterns on the heart-shaped locket resting on your chest, the one you'd worn around your neck for as long as he'd known you.

"this?" you asked, opening the locket, displaying two pictures; one of them was of you when you were a little girl, standing between your parents with a wide, toothy grin on your face, and the other was a picture of you and rafe, taken at midsummers. "i got this from my mom. it's a family heirloom of sorts. when she's born," you looked down at your stomach, "we've gotta get a picture taken of us three so i can put it here."

he let out a small chuckle, "i'm honored that you want me in your heart."

"i think you're always going to be in my heart," you rolled your eyes, "whether i want it or not."

"i'm here to see you. i thought that'd be obvious." rafe said without an ounce of emotion in his voice, the sound causing a shiver to run down your spine. grieving your daughter on what would've been her fifth birthday wasn't a moment you exactly wanted your ex to witness, but this was still rafe. the man you loved for so long, the only man you ever loved, the one you were going to marry, and this was still the house that was supposed to be your home.

so you stepped aside, pulling your cardigan closed as a way to close yourself off from the man as you walked further into the house, not daring yourself to look back at him, fearing the urge that still remained in your chest to just pull him close to you and be in his arms.

you heard the door close, pressing your eyes shut as you stood in front of the fireplace, your arms crossed in front of your chest as if defending yourself, the man's footsteps echoing in the room, "it's cold in here."

"the radiator's broken."

"can you just, at least look at me, or something?"

"do i have to?" you chuckled humorlessly, and when you felt his hand on your shoulder, it felt like the room got ten degrees colder, the man slowly turning you around to face him, and when you refused to look up at him, focusing on the baby blue sweater he was wearing, he brought his hand to your chin, gently lifting it up, just like he did every time he was about to kiss you.

"we need to talk."

if someone was to ask you what would be the most uncomfortable situation you had ever been in, this would be among the top 3, right after you got the 'birds and the bees' talk and the time you said your goodbyes to the same man now sitting beside you, the space between you two big enough to fit another person.

"why did you come back?" rafe asks, without even sparing you a glance. you decide to do the same, your gaze staying on the fire crackling in front of you.

"i don't know. a part of me thinks it's because i missed home."

"and the other part?"

missed us. missed her. "missed my mom, i guess."

your mother had driven you home from the hospital, insisting that she'd stay with you for the next few days; you still hadn't seen rafe. you couldn't face him, couldn't face the guilt you carried around for being the reason your daughter would be coming home in an urn.

she'd gone to the store for groceries, leaving you to sit on the couch you and rafe had picked out, staring at the engagement picture that hung above the fireplace.

you didn't know how it started, how every single vase ended up as nothing but shards of glass on the floor, how the coffee table had ended up as planks of wood, how your fists were bruised from beating them against the walls, your knees bloody from when you'd collapsed on the ground amongst all the glass.

"do you know what day it is?" rafe asked with a weak voice, and you could hear him try to swallow down the emotion crawling up his throat.

his question made you want to let out a small, humorless laugh. you don't know how you could ever forget. "of course." the day i killed her.

rafe stood up, running his hand over his chin before trailing over the short strands of hair on his head, "why did you do it?" he looked to you. "why did you leave?"

"i had no reason to stay." you say emotionlessly, your fingers intertwined as you kept your eyes on them as if you were praying.

"you had me. you would've had me if you just let me be there."

"rafe, i killed our daughter."

"what-"

"i'm the reason our daughter isn't here. i'm the reason she doesn't exist. i'm the reason that today isn't only her fifth birthday, but also the fifth anniversary of her death."

rafe kneeled down in front of you, his hands cupping your cheeks, not caring if it made you uncomfortable, or that this was the first time he'd properly touched you in over four years, the only thing that mattered to him was that you listened.

"you did not kill our daughter."

"i did."

"no." he scoffed, "you aren't the reason she's dead. the reason is the drunken asshole who drove at you. you loved her with your entire being, with everything you had, even before she was born. you would've been the most amazing mother in the world. don't you dare blame yourself for something you had zero control over."

"i shouldn't have driven in that weather. i knew it was gonna be raining, that the roads would be slippery-"

"no." rafe said sternly, "look at me."

your eyes moved to look into rafe's steel-blue ones, shimmering with unshed tears, his jaw clenched, and only then did you realize that he was cupping your face in his hands, his touch somehow managing to make you feel warm even in the cold apartment.

"i won't have you blame yourself for something you had no fuckin' control over. evelyn was so wanted, by both of us. she would've been so loved. we would've done anything to protect her, and to keep her safe. if any fucker even thought about hurting her, i would've made sure they'd regret ever being born. but you are not to blame for her not being here."

rafe's hands moved from your cheeks to your hands, the man instead taking your clenched fists into his, letting out a small sniffle, and when he pressed his eyes closed and let out a sigh, a tear rolled down his cheek.

"yeah, you could've not driven in the rain. but i should've been the one to drive you to your mom's, you were eight months along, an insane man would make you drive yourself, or i should've made sure you got home before it was dark, or i should've picked you up myself. there are so many things we could've done differently, but that doesn't mean that either of us is to blame for it."

"i spent so long blaming myself for what happened, but not even for a moment did i blame you. you did everything to keep her safe, and i know it, and i'm sure that she knows it too. you loved her more than anything, and i won't let some drunk driving idiot make you feel like you did anything wrong."

slowly, you opened your fists, half-moon prints on the palms on your hands caused by your nails, and without even realizing, tears had been rolling down your eyes the entire time that rafe had been speaking, the man standing up and pressing a kiss on your forehead that felt like it burnt and would leave a mark that'd be there forever, before he settled down next to you.

a strand of hair was stuck on your cheek, almost glued on there by the tears you shed, the blonde man tugging it behind your ear, his eyes still on you, his hands still cupping yours.

"i don't blame you for what happened, nor do i blame you for pushing me away. but i wish you would've let me in, to be there for you, instead of leaving. so we could've grieved her together."

"i think we should break up, rafe."

"what?" rafe turned to look at you; this wasn't what he had been expecting to hear after two months of silence, "if this is about the baby-"

"i can't do it anymore." you closed your eyes, letting a tear run down your cheek, "i need to leave. start over."

you turned your head to look at him, his words feeling like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders, and even though you tried to find it, there was nothing in his eyes that said that he was lying.

"you don't blame me for any of it?"

your voice was weak and feeble, as if a part of you was expecting him to tell you that he did, but when he pulled you into his embrace, he told you the truth in the best way he knew how to: without saying a single word.

you didn't know how long you had been in rafe's arms; it felt like hours, while also feeling like the moment had lasted mere seconds, like you two lived in your own bubble. it felt like the last four years hadn't happened, like you had never left.

but when he pulled away from the embrace and looked down at his watch, letting out a sigh, you knew what was coming. the bubble burst.

"i should probably get going." rafe let out an exasperated sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose before starting to get up off the couch, stretching his long limbs.

"yeah, yeah." you said softly, clearing your throat, trying to act like nothing had happened, like you hadn't gone through every memory you shared while he was just holding you to comfort you, "your girlfriend's probably waiting for you."

rafe stopped in his tracks, turning to look down at you, "girlfriend?"

"shit," you chuckle softly, fidgeting with your hands and chewing on your lower lip, "i guess she's your fiancée, now."

he sat down on the couch next to you while you simply avoided his gaze, not wanting him to read everything you were feeling like he so often seemed to do, but your attempt was unsuccessful, the man bringing his hand to your chin and gently turning your head so you were forced to look at him, his brows slightly furrowed while he looked at you pointedly.

"what girlfriend, or fiancée?"

you didn't know if rafe was acting stupid, or if he was genuinely confused, but you could still remember the woman with him at the jewelry store, the woman who had managed to make him smile, whose back rafe placed his hand on.

"you know," you clear your throat, taking his hand off your chin and turning your head away from him, not wanting him to see the tears brimming in your eyes as you thought about him waiting at the aisle for another woman, "the woman at the jewelry store."

rafe let out a soft laugh, and when you turned your head, facing him, he was nearly keeling over in laughter, his head in his hands.

"what?"

"that-" rafe said inbetween laughs, "that wasn't my girlfriend."

"what?" you mumbled softly, your brows furrowing, "what do you mean, rafe?"

"sorry-" he continued laughing for a while only to be stopped by a soft smack you delivered to his shoulder, before the man took a deep breath, looking at you with a small smile gracing his lips, a sight that still got your heart to flutter, "that wasn't my girlfriend, or my fiancée."

"then... who was she?"

"that was," rafe let out another chuckle as if you had said something foolish, taking one of your hands in his and intertwining your fingers, "wheezie's girlfriend."

you tried processing the words that had left his lips, but no matter what, they didn't seem to make since. "why were you in a jewelry store together? wheezie's only like-"

"wheezie's nineteen." rafe shook his head, "her girlfriend, lucy, asked me to help her pick out a ring. sarah was supposed to go with her, but she had some preschool stuff to deal with relating to jack, so i got stuck with that duty…"

"isn't nineteen a bit... young?"

"it is. but you remember how young we were when we got engaged? or sarah?" a fond smile took over rafe's lips as he turned to look at the fire that was slowly burning out, letting the next words out in a hushed tone. "guess it runs in the family."

"guess so." you say, biting down on your lip, turning to look at the fire with him, your cheeks warm as you felt like an idiot for your assumption.

"i still haven't moved on." rafe said, letting out a breath, "i don't know if i can. i don't think i even want to." you turned to look back at one another at the same time, both of you seeing the same melancholy in the other one's eyes, "there's no one i would ever want to be with other than you."

you took a deep breath, his words ringing through your head as you looked at him, a damp trail running down his cheek was still visible from the tears he had shed, and you took a deep breath, making a decision that you knew would impact the rest of your life.

"me neither, rafe."

you brought your hand to his cheek and felt the tear he had shed under your touch, pulling his face to meet yours until your lips clashed, feeling the exact same that it did four years ago, making you wonder how you ever let it go.

SIX MONTHS LATER...

you laid on a blanket in the middle of a field of sunflowers, your arms crossed behind your head and your eyes pressed closed, letting the sun beam down your face, warming you up as your bare feet were being tickled by blades of grass.

your daydreaming was interrupted by the sound of footsteps, and you opened one of your eyes to see rafe stumble through the long flowers into the small clearing you'd found, a small chuckle leaving your lips.

"don't laugh at me." he scolded, shaking his head as he landed on the blanket next to you, letting out a soft grunt.

"why not?" you asked, sticking your tongue out at him, your boyfriend gasping in feigned offence, about to quip back at you, only to be stopped by the small, chaste peck you pressed on his lips, even the small display of affection managing to leave him speechless.

as he settled down next to you, you smiled while looking up at the sky, white clouds covering a part of the beautiful icy blue nothingness that was so much like rafe's eyes, your thoughts on her. you took rafe's hand in yours, keeping your eyes trained up while you let yourselves just exist together.

"you're always going to be in my heart, evelyn louise cameron." you said softly as you traced the patterns on your locket, rafe turning his head to look at you, a somber expression on his face as he pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"yeah, she will. and neither of us will ever forget her."

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

They unknowingly bring up an insecurity Seungmin|Pt1

Pt2 Pt3

Your heart was strung in your throat. Seungmin was always one to tease; and for the most part he was good about shying away from topics you were sensitive about so no problems had ever arisen. But as you read over his texts over and over again you felt your heart pinch in a way that was all to similar to what you had felt in your previous relationship.

"You talk too much, you know that?" Your ex had told you that numerous times, and eventually it led to a break up. And your constant yapping became something that made you insecure.

But when you first met Seungmin you felt like you were perfect the way you were. Chan had said you would balance Seungmin out quite well. And up until now you felt as if that were the case.

Now you wondered if maybe you did become to much.

Maybe the constant chatter had become annoying to the quiet boy you loved dearly.

And while you had been in love numerous times before, it hurt more to even think of losing Seungmin than all your previous heart breaks combined. And that was a lot considering you had always been the one to have your heart broken.

You couldn't tear yourself away from your phone screen - rereading those texts and overanalyizing the tone.

Maybe it was in a light hearted way? Or maybe it was the complete opposite and it was fully aggression?

You sat there trying to pick apart every single meaning, connotation, and tone the words he sent could have when your phone dimed again.

"I'm guessing your busy shopping since my phone has been quite for more than fifteen minutes. Haha, I think that's a first!"

You did everything in your power to try and bite back the knot in your throat from coming up and causing tears. So much so your eyes started to burn and you ended up shedding a few quietly.

The rest of the day you busied yourself with miniscule little tasks like dusting the fans and sweeping the welcome mat that you intended to take along with you when you moved in with Seungmin.

You tried to take your mind off of the texts. You figured Seungmin didn’t mean it in anyway malicious sort of way. In fact you knew he meant it as a lighthearted joke. In the time you had spent with him you had easily learned just how kind and loving of a person he was, and how much he cared for you.

You just couldn’t shake the hurt from those words - and more importantly the fear you had deep down that there was some truth to the words he had sent.

By the time Seungmin arrived at your apartment it was early evening. Every Wednesday you guys would cook together ever since you witnessed him and Felix blowing food up by accident on a live. Seungmin followed the normal routine of slipping off his shoes and into his house slippers and immediately changing into a cheap shirt he had bought when you first had started your endeavors since he was smart enough to realize he was a messy cook.

“Hey baby.” He said as he greeted you with a quick hug from behind and a chaste kiss to the cheek before he went to wash his hands.

You have a small noise of acknowledgement as Seungmin dried his hands off on a plaid towel and turned to you with happy anticipation.

“What are we cooking today?”

“Spaghetti and meatballs.” You replied as you started to grab the necessary ingredients. Seungmin followed you around like a happy puppy and helped you a carry everything to the counter you reserved for preparation of ingredients.

“So how do we start?” Seungmin asked. By now he had noticed your face was a little droopy and your responses were short and if there was any conversation it was only in answer to his initiation.

“With the ground beef.” You said as you pulled out a big bowl to put the meat and seasonings in. Seungmin watched you from his peripheral as you poured in some panco bread crumbs and a bunch of other various aromatic seasonings while he opened up the meat packaging.

As he kneeled everything with his hands he tried asking you about your day.

“So did you end up ordering the mugs baby?”

“No, I didn’t.” Silence.

“Oh…maybe after dinner we can look on Etsy together? Or maybe find a website to customize them? It might seem like a lot but I think the guys would really appreciate your sentiment.”

“Yeah, we can do that.” Silence.

Seungmin started to roll out oddly and unevenly shaped meatballs and continued to try and ask you questions as you guys worked, but your answers we short. Not rude. But literally short.

Not thouroghly explained like usual.

Even at dinner you were quiet and barely even touched your food.

“Do you not feel good baby?” Seungmin asked you as you played with a piece of garlic bread.

“I feel okay…maybe a little tired.” You said popping the piece into your mouth as if to show you were feeling fine.

Seungmin sighed and put his fork down.

“Did my text hurt your feelings?” He had been worrying about it all day when he had seen you had left him on read. It was an odd thing but nevertheless endearing when you would finish a conversation over text and send a meme to him just to acknowledge the end of the conversation, and to make sure he “didn’t find it hurtful” that you had left him on read. Even if he constantly assured you it was in no way shape or form a problem.

You hadn’t sent him a meme. And the more he thought about it he realized that his humor might not have translated through text.

“Im sorry if I hurt your feelings. It was a joke, Y/N. I would never purposefully want to hurt you. I love when you share about your day. I was a bit tied up so while you texting me might have been inconvienent at the moment doesnt mean I don’t appreciate you wanting me to know everything about what you are doing. I love that you want me to be a part of your life , even the tiny thing.”

“It’s okay babe.” You replied putting a smile on your face. “I know you didn’t mean it to hurt me. I’m just tired that’s all.” You let out a breath as you stood up and collected Seungmin’s plate. “Maybe we can just watch a movie instead of shopping? I just don’t feel like thinking very much right now in any capacity…” You let out quietly.

“Of course.” Seungmin responded, trailing you into the kitchen as you set the plates in the sink. “I love you.” He said quietly, his voice lilting up slightly. Were you actually okay?

“I love you too Minmin.” You place a a small kiss next to his eye and head towards the living room.

During the movie Seungmin kept stealing glances at you as you leaned on him but not into him. As you laughed but the curve of your mouth didn’t exactly reach your eyes. And how those same eyes were focused on the screen but your mind was obviously some place else.

Although you had said you were fine your silence gave him the answer you actually wanted to give. That Seungmin had struck a nerve more sensitive than he had known.

[spdrvyn]

full stomachs, fuller hearts — MIGUEL O'HARA

SUMMARY: miguel has gotten used to eating dinner by himself so you decide to change his nightly routine.

THIS FIC CONTAINS: literally nothing but pure unaldulterated fluff. gender neutral terms mostly but querido is used once.

NOTES: OKAY so this was actually a request for someone but i was a dumbass and accidentally POSTED the draft when i meant to save it for later, i panicked and deleted the post so now i lost the request from my inbox forever 💔 whoever that dude was i hope you find this and i hope you enjoy

Lonely dinners were always a common occurence for Miguel.

That was just how things are. After a long and drawn out day of protecting the multiverse, protecting the city, protecting everything that he's built up and coming home to a desolate penthouse.

It was the norm for him, he had grown accustomed to it. Being isolated in general wasn't a foreign concept to him, but you brought more change to his life that he thought he would hate.

He loves you a lot. You two had been in a committed relationship for a few months now but haven't moved in yet. The every few hours during a day that you would get to visit him or perhaps he could swing by to your apartment were the only times he felt some sense of warmth in his cold, silent life.

It's not like he didn't want to ask you to move in, he does. Oh, so badly. It's just that the constant fear that he's going too fast or getting too excited over this newfound love. He doesn't want to scare you away.

There was also just a small part of him that was getting too used to being around you. It's gone to the fact that whenever he ate dinner, he'd always imagine you on the other side of that table, laughing and sharing stories about how you're day went.

When he snapped out of it, the sight of the empty chair across him brought his spirits down even more.

You were aware of this too.

Which was why you were up at the wee hours of the night, trying to watch an online video recipe for making empanadas. You knew how to cook enough meals to get by but you wanted to try something different for Miguel.

The bar was set a little bit higher this time. You've been over at Miguel's place before and he has cooked for you and every single time you've tried his dishes they were utterly delectable.

You didn't only want to make all of this food for him just because he's constantly eating alone but because he's really expanded your tastebuds ever since you two developed a much more intimate relationship. You could at least owe him one homecooked dinner.

Reminders to yourself, thank Lyla for letting you in and don't blow up Miguel's penthouse.

As you followed the tutorial step-by-step, you couldn't help but let your mind wander a little further. You wondered how Miguel was doing right now.

Yes, he's strong and agile in an almost inhuman way but at the same time you still worried for him. If only he could be here right now, you'd love to have the opportunity to cook with him.

He was grateful that you weren't in the present moment with him right now, his stomach growl in anticipation for it's next meal as he was running and swinging from rooftop to rooftop to get back to his penthouse.

There were many obstacles that he encountered on the way back. The classic old lady getting her purse snatched which gave him severe déjà vu, a bank robbery, and a cat stuck in a tree.

He grew progressively exhausted with each stop, not forgetting that he had his actual duties at the headquarters that he just left from. Sore muscles and a throbbing head, a painful combo for Miguel.

Maybe he should just skip dinner altogether and opt to immediately pass out on his bed, showering in the morning and having a very heavy breakfast. Yeah, that would work...

He glares into the window of his penthouse, not because he was hesitant to make the jump but because the lights were open. He was sure that he left all of his rooms in complete darkness before leaving.

With one final jump, his claws dig into the edge of his window as he pulls himself up. His eyes narrow, in attempts of getting a good peek of what exactly was going on.

An intruder, a home invasion, Lyla having a party without telling him were all of his possible theories.

What he didn't expect was to see you setting up his plate on his kitchen island, plates of delicious smelling food prepared as well.

There was an intrusion, that's for sure. The intrusion of blush on his cheeks, which he quickly had to shake as he took his mask off.

However, as quickly as it disappeared, it came back once he saw the look on your face the moment you noticed his presence.

Pure glee and warmth is how he'd describe it. It's also how he'd describe the embrace that you immediately pull him into, throwing the silverware that you were readying.

It's not like he hesitated to touch you either, he wrapped his arms around you. So glad that he gets to bask in your existence again, bask in you.

"What's all this, querido?"

You separate from Miguel for a brief moment before walking over to the kitchen counter, proudly showing off your creations. "Empanadas and menudo!"

It was like stars clouded Miguel's vision as it all goes through his mind. You came to his house, fixed up a whole meal for him, and for what? He doesn't remember getting you any gifts recently.

So why?

"Are you just going to stare or are you going to try one?" chuckled you, at least it got Miguel to snap out of his daze. His hands reaches out to one of the empanadas and he takes a bite.

Okay, if he was being honest, he's tasted much better before.

But you put so much thought, so much time, and so much care into making this for him. All of those qualities overshadowed the taste and dryness of it, filling his stomach with something else entirely.

This was probably one of the best empanadas he's ever tasted.

"It's really good." He says, swallowing the last of his food, "Best that one I've ever tasted, mi cielo." Then leaning in to press a small kiss to your forehead, warm hand cupping your cheek.

"You're just saying that, Miguel. I tasted them before you got here and they're really dry."

"Still the best I've ever tasted."

He continues to plant kisses on you, trailing from your forehead to the bridge of your nose to your cheek then boarding at your lips, you giggle into the kiss but before it progresses any further, he stops and pulls away.

"Do you want to move in with me?"

request rules here, masterlist here

[merxcywritesthings]

𝐵𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 𝑏𝑦 𝑃𝑎𝑖𝑛

A/N: I’m so full of Angst ideas and I’m not sure why. I promise to write more fluffier, cheesy stuff later on down the road, but for now, take this anguish my lovelies. (I might make a part two of this, only because I liked it so much.)

Word Count: 2.2k

TW: Cussing, Arguments, Brian and Tim are toxic, grief.

Reader is a female!

The apartment door slammed shut with a resounding crack, the force reverberating through the small space. You flinched, startled, and looked up from where you sat curled on the couch. Tim and Brian were back, their faces hard and unreadable, though the tension between them filled the room like smoke.

“It’s midnight, where the hell were you?!” you demanded, standing up as your voice quavered between anger and worry. Your heart pounded. They had been gone for hours with no word, leaving you to stew in an anxious cocktail of fear and frustration.

Tim tossed his jacket onto the back of the chair, not even sparing you a glance. “Out,” he muttered, the single word cutting through the air like a knife.

“Out? That’s all you’ve got to say?” You stepped closer, your fists clenched at your sides. “I was worried sick! You can’t just disappear for hours and not—”

“Are you even listening to me?” The words tumbled out, louder than you intended. The silence that followed was suffocating.

Brian leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed over his chest. His eyes were sharp, like he was sizing you up, ready to dismantle you piece by piece. “What more do you really want?” he sneered, his tone cold. “We’re back. Isn’t that enough?”

“Enough?” Your voice cracked. “You left me here, with no explanation, no text, nothing! Do you know what that feels like?”

Brian’s laugh was bitter, a sound devoid of warmth. “You’re so pathetic. Always clinging, always demanding.”

Your chest tightened, the words hitting harder than they should have. “What is wrong with you guys? I stayed up all night worrying about you. I thought you might’ve been hurt—or worse!” you snapped, though your voice wavered under the weight of Tim’s sharp glare.

Tim finally turned to you, his expression a mixture of exhaustion and something sharper. “Can you just fuck off already?” he said, his words devoid of emotion.

The ground felt like it was slipping beneath you. You stared at him, unable to process what he’d just said, eyes starting to form small beads, glistening when the kitchen light reflected off them.

Brian’s smirk widened as he tilted his head, his voice dripping with mockery. “Oh, is the poor little thing going to cry? Can’t handle a bit of truth, huh?”

You stood there, rooted in place, as the words rained down on you like blows you couldn’t dodge. Your chest tightened, each syllable slicing deeper, but you couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. The walls seemed to close in around you, the air growing heavier with every passing moment.

Tim remained unmoved, his gaze sharpening.

Brian pushed himself off the counter, his movements slow and deliberate as he walked past you, his shoulder brushing yours in a way that felt intentional. “Ever since we first met, you’ve been nothing but a burden,” he muttered, his voice low but clear enough to pierce through the din of your spiraling thoughts.

Something in you cracked. The fragile hope you’d held onto, that this was just a bad day and things would work themselves out, shattered completely. “Fine,” you said, your voice trembling but steady enough to carry the weight of your resolve. “Leave, then. Both of you. I don’t need this.”

For the first time, neither of them had a quick retort. They exchanged a glance—silent, unreadable—and without another word, Tim grabbed his jacket. Brian didn’t even bother to look back as they walked out the door.

The silence they left behind was deafening.

 ‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿

The door closed with a soft click this time, and the sound made your stomach twist. The fight was over, but it didn’t feel like a victory. The quiet that followed wasn’t peace—it was suffocating. You stood frozen in the center of the room, your arms hanging limply at your sides, heart hammering in your chest.  

You’d told them to leave. And they had.  

Tears pricked your eyes, blurring your vision as the weight of everything began to settle. Their words echoed in your mind, each one sharper than the last.  

“You’re so pathetic.”

“Can you just fuck off already?” 

“You’re nothing but a burden.”

Your knees buckled, and you sank onto the couch, trembling. You hugged yourself, as if you could somehow shield yourself from the bruises their words had left behind. It wasn’t the first time arguments like this had erupted between you three. The stress of working with the Operator, the endless, mind-numbing missions, and the constant danger had frayed everyone’s nerves. But tonight had been different.  

Tonight, they hadn’t just been angry—they’d been cruel.  

You wiped at your face with the sleeve of your hoodie, your breath hitching as the tears came faster. “Why did it have to be like this?” you whispered to no one.  

For a moment, you let yourself remember the good days—the laughter, the late nights spent curled up together, the small moments of tenderness that had made all the chaos bearable. You’d thought that those moments meant something, that they could carry you all through the worst of it.  

But maybe you were wrong.

The clock on the wall ticked loudly, each second dragging on longer than the last. The apartment felt too big, too empty without their presence, even if that presence had been brimming with anger. You couldn’t stop replaying the argument in your head, trying to pinpoint the moment where everything had spiraled out of control.  

Had you pushed too hard? Or had they finally shown you what they truly thought of you?  

Your phone buzzed on the coffee table, snapping you out of your thoughts. You reached for it with shaking hands, half-hoping it was one of them. Maybe Tim or Brian would apologize, or at least explain what had set them off so badly.  

But it wasn’t them. It was just a useless notification—a weather alert. You threw the phone back onto the table, the small hope you’d allowed yourself fizzling out as quickly as it had come.  

A cold wave of exhaustion swept over you. You pulled a blanket over your shoulders, curling into yourself as the tears continued to fall.  

  ‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿

Hours passed, though you couldn’t tell how many. You didn’t sleep—how could you, with your mind racing and your chest aching like this? You wanted to hate them, wanted to banish their faces from your thoughts, but it was impossible.  

The door opened again sometime near dawn. The sound jolted you upright, your breath catching in your throat. For a split second, you thought maybe they’d come back to make things right.  

Tim stood in the doorway, looking drained and disheveled. Brian was behind him, his face an unreadable mask. Neither of them spoke at first.  

“What are you doing here?” you asked, your voice hoarse from crying.  

Tim looked away, scratching the back of his neck. “We forgot some stuff,” he muttered. “It’s not like we came back for you.”  

The sharpness of his words was dulled by his tone—it wasn’t cruel, just... hollow.  

Brian crossed the room without a word, grabbing a duffel bag from the corner and stuffing a few things into it. He didn’t even glance in your direction.  

The sight of them, so detached and indifferent, made something inside you snap. “That’s it?” you said, your voice trembling with anger and disbelief. “You’re just going to walk in here, grab your shit, and leave? After everything?”  

Tim turned to face you, his expression darkening. “What do you want me to say?” he snapped. “That we’re sorry? That everything’s fine now? It’s not.”  

“I don’t want your empty apologies,” you shot back. “I wanted you to care. I wanted you to try.”  

Brian finally spoke, his voice cold and sharp. “We’ve been trying. You think this is easy? You think we can just continue acting like everything’s fine when it’s not?”

“Do you even hear yourselves?” you said, your voice rising. “You’re blaming me for this—like I’m the one who’s broken us!”  

Tim’s jaw tightened. “Maybe you should look in the mirror, then.”  

The room fell silent again, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a heavy stone.  

You swallowed hard, blinking back the fresh tears that threatened to spill over. “If this is how little you think of me, then why did you stay for so long?”  

Neither of them answered.  

Brian slung the duffel bag over his shoulder, his expression unchanging. “We couldn’t handle faking it anymore,” he said.  

You stared at them, your chest heaving as anger and despair warred within you. “Fine,” you said, your voice trembling. “I don’t know what I saw in you both to be together this long.” The words you spoke came out like venom, even shocking you.

Tim hesitated for a moment, but Brian didn’t look back as he opened the door and stepped out. Tim followed, the door closing behind them with a finality that left you breathless.  

And then, once again, you were alone.  

  ‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿

The hours that followed their departure stretched endlessly, every second heavier than the last. The apartment felt like a hollow shell—an echo chamber of everything they had said and everything you hadn’t had the chance to say. Sleep evaded you; every time you closed your eyes, their voices lingered, cruel and sharp like glass shards digging into your chest.  

When the sun finally rose, its weak light spilled through the curtains, and you sat up, exhausted but restless. Their things were gone now, but the spaces they had filled—the chair Tim always slouched in, the spot on the kitchen counter Brian leaned against when he teased you—those remained, taunting you.  

By noon, you had reached your breaking point. You had to confront them—not to bring them back, but to purge the poison they’d left in your veins. You grabbed your phone and sent a message to Tim.  

We need to talk. Face-to-face. Please.

You didn’t expect him to reply. You didn’t expect him to come, either. But an hour later, there was a knock at the door.  

When you opened it, Tim stood there, his expression guarded. He had changed out of his wrinkled clothes from the night before but still looked just as tired.  

“Where’s Brian?” you asked flatly.  

“Not here,” he said, stepping inside. “He didn’t want to come.”  

“Of course he didn’t,” you muttered under your breath.  

Tim frowned, crossing his arms. “You wanted to talk. So talk.”  

The sight of him standing there, so detached, made your blood boil. “You promised me,” you said, your voice trembling. “You both did. You promised we’d stick together, no matter how hard things got.”  

Tim’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah, well, promises don’t mean much when everything’s falling apart.”  

“You think I don’t know that?” you snapped. “I gave you everything I had. Everything! Look where that got me.”  

He flinched, just barely, but it was enough to spur you on. “Every time I look at you,” you said, your voice breaking, “all I see are the faces of the people who once told me they loved me, that I was the only bright spark in their dark world. And now you’re just like them—another person who tore me apart and left me here to bleed.”  

“Stop,” Tim said quietly, but you weren’t done.  

“You changed me, Tim. You and Brian both. You broke me down until there was nothing left. And the worst part? Neither of you will ever find someone who loves a soul as filthy as yours.”  

“That’s enough!” he shouted, his voice cutting through the room like a whip.  

The silence that followed was deafening. Tim looked away, his jaw tight, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.  

You let out a shaky breath, your anger giving way to exhaustion. “Was any of it real? Did it ever really mean something to either of you?” you whispered, looking at Tim with some form of hope in your eyes.  

Tim’s head snapped back toward you, his expression shifting. “Of course it meant something!” he said, his voice cracking. “You think I didn’t care? You think none of it mattered to me?”  

“Did it?” you asked, your voice flat. “Because if it did, why did you let it end like this? Why didn’t you fight for us?”  

He stared at you, his mouth opening as if to say something, but no words came out.  

Finally, he shook his head and turned toward the door. “I can’t do this,” he muttered.  

“Of course you can’t,” you said bitterly. “Running away is the only thing you’ve ever been good at.”  

He hesitated, his hand on the doorknob, but didn’t look back. And then, just like that, he was gone.  

‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿

The next few days passed in a blur. You didn’t hear from either of them, and part of you was grateful for the silence. But the pain lingered, festering like an open wound. You replayed the argument with Tim over and over in your mind, dissecting every word, every glance, every moment where things could have gone differently.  

You weren’t sure if you wanted to fix things anymore. Maybe there was nothing left to fix.  

But one thing was certain—you wouldn’t let them tear you apart again.

𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑑𝑜 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑧𝑒 𝑜𝑟 𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑚𝑦 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛. 𝑇ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑑𝑜 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑐𝑘𝑒𝑑. 𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑘𝑠! 🖤

𝐷𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑏𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑦 @𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑓𝑙𝑦-𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑝ℎ𝑖𝑐𝑠

𝐺𝐼𝐹 𝑏𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑦 @𝑘𝑟𝑣𝑝𝑖𝑘𝑎

[bunnys-writing]

Hi aether!!

Would it be okay to ask for a Lyney x reader whos insecure about their face because they think that lyney is WAYYYY prettier than them and is overall just insecure abt their looks ever since before they met? Thank you !!

"My Shining Star"

...in which you, a self conscious Fontainian, feel as though your lovely boyfriend is too lovely for someone like you, and he just can't have you thinking like that on his watch.

(a/n at the bottom!)

Lyney is a man easily described as charismatic and charming. He encapsulates what it means to be confident, and his every move is flawless by design. His show run with his siblings has been deemed dozens of times over the best show in the Court of Fontaine, and what's more, he has clear set goals, ambitions, bonds, and ideals.

And then there's you. You're quiet, more reserved than he appears to his crowd. In a world of dazzling gems, you feel like you're more akin to a jagged rock, and yet, he pursued you.

For months, really, you thought he was joking. A trick to lure you into his mind games, a ploy to make fun of you, but there was a quiet sincerity in his eyes that made you wonder if maybe it wasn't as fake as you believed.

And it wasn't. Months of courting you eventually had you lower your guard and take him up on his invitation. A date.

Well, the date went far better than either of you could've hoped, and it was shortly after that you became partners. He was your loyal, joyful boyfriend, and you were his favourite thing in the world.

For a while, it was great. You attended his shows, and he dedicated every single one to you and his family. He always made sure he knew where you were sitting in the crowd so he could blow you a kiss, even if the people near you swooned on your behalf to insist it was for them.

Was it for them?

That thought planted the seed.

It took days for Lyney to notice your withdrawals; the way you avoided his eyes, didn't linger on his kisses or cuddles. It was about as subtle as a house on fire, in his defense.

Then you stopped attending as many shows, stopped spending nights at his house, started looking in mirrors and numbers on scales and spots on your face, and by the end of two months of Lyney hoping for you to tell him, he decided he couldn't stand watching his partner tear themself apart like this.

"Knock knock," Came a singsong voice at your door. He didn't want to scare you, so he kept his tone jovial. "Hope you don't mind me letting myself in, my dear."

You looked at the magician in slight surprise, then at your mess of an appearance with embarrassment. "Lyney! I'm so sorry, I didn't know you were coming over, I would've tidied up a little more if I did..."

"Nonsense, dove! We've been dating for months now, you don't owe me a saving face." Lyney walked over to you, closing the door behind him and sitting on your bed next to you.

The second the door was closed, your boyfriend shed the persona he held. His eyes softened, his stature relaxed, and he lost the formalities. He brushed a hand to your cheek lovingly, and when you shifted to move your face away, he immediately retracted to his own disappointment.

"(Y/N)...I need to talk to you about something."

You felt fear and guilt crawl up your stomach to infect your lungs. Tangled in this dread, you said nothing. Lyney took it as an open invitation.

"You've been acting strange lately...You weigh yourself, you're less inclined to eat or to leave the house, you seem...you seem low."

Lyney didn't touch you. He put a hand next to yours as an offer and left it there. He could tell something was wrong, even in the darkness of the room. You looked so...sad. It ached for him to see you like this.

"Did someone say something to you? Do something?"

No. And that was the stupid part. This was entirely self afflicted. You drove yourself down this spiral.

"...no." You despised the way your voice sounded so gravelly. "I'm just...not feeling great."

"What happened, (Y/N)? Please, talk to me."

You unfurled yourself, your knees left your chest to splay onto the mattress, and your hands travelled to fridget in your lap. Lyney moved to face you a little bit more.

"It's just...I don't know. You're really pretty, and I see how people look at you, especially when you're with me. The people at your shows, at the markets...they know I don't deserve you, Lyn."

There was a long silence. Then, a cautious hand on yours.

"Can I tell you a secret?"

You looked at your boyfriend, who seemed to be saddened a great deal from your words, but still smiling stubbornly despite.

"...Anything."

"I'm quite self conscious myself."

Now you were sure he was lying. You watched him carefully for any hint of a lie, but you couldn't discern it. With widening eyes, you realised he was telling the truth.

"Wha-...How? You're so beautiful and charming, and your smile is so bright it warms anyone who sees it!"

"Funny, that's exactly what I think of you."

A deep red burns your cheeks as you realise you've been caught, and your boyfriend laughs, bringing you closer in his arms.

"I know how it feels to feel like you're lesser than the people you love. To feel like the world would continue without a change if you were to fade away. But you're my shining star, and I love you so much. All of you."

Lyney plants gentle kisses on your palm, to your wrist, then to your cheek, catching you off-guard and flustered. He gives a sort of half chuckle at your expression. You see love fill every bit of his eyes as he gazes at you.

"I love you so much, (Y/N). Don't ever think any less, 'kay?"

"Yeah...I love you too, Lyney."

Man oh man I apologise for how long this took! Writing for Lyney was super fun, so I hope you enjoy reading it just as much as I did writing it.

A gentle reminder that you are never not enough, and you're perfect just the way you are no matter what anyone (including you yourself) has to say about it! ♡

Thanks for reading! 🫶

REQUESTS OPEN, check pinned for more info!

[stardust-poet]

Stars.

Pairing: percy jackson x gn!reader

Warnings: slightly vivid gore descriptions, not proof read

A/n: wrote this at midnight, so... might be a little incoherent

Enjoy!

You and your friend percy sat next to each other, percy sitting with his legs crossed and you with your legs dangling off the side of the rooftop of cabin 3, watching the stars peacefully.

You were the one who invited him to do this at such a late hour. Percy didn't mind much, though. He was a little concerned about getting too cold and turning into a perseus-popsicle. And the harpys tearing the both of you to bits.

You had called percy on the demigod-safe phones Leo Valdez had made for Camp-Halfblood as well as Camp-Jupiter all the way in California.

Your voice was shaky, and your words were stuttered over and repeated. That was when percy knew something was wrong.

Percy had always been plagued with nightmares since he had been thrown into the demigod life. That's what he suspected happened to you tonight. You might've been plagued with the horrors of both wars or some of the quests you've been on with other campers who may or may not have made it back in one piece.

Either way, he was here for you.

Percy had a crush on you. It didn't affect whether or not he would've come. He would always come when you called.

His little crush started out small. Holding stares just a little longer, more aware of how warm hugs from you were, admiring your appearance.

But soon, it got deeper and more passionate. Noticing every little quirk you have, memorizing your 'system' whenever you perform a task, slowly falling in love with every part of you. Your eyes, your smile.

Gods, he loved that smile.

Percy hardly focused on the stars tonight. His entire focus was you and you alone. You were the only star he ever needed. Until his own brain reminded him that you might not have the same feelings, and as of now, you aren't in the greatest condition to confess to. He had planned to confess tonight.

The silence was deafening yet peaceful. You felt like everything was crashing down on top of you. You felt the weight of it all, but you weren't crushed. You couldn't tell if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

Earlier in the night, you woke up from a nightmare.

Not the usual kind, where it was maybe a monster chasing after you and having to run for your life with the overwhelming fear that it might catch up to you.

This time, it was memories.

Memories of the wars, bloodied guts, and other bodily parts everywhere from countless people you knew and some you didn't, mangled bodies spread throughout the area, people who were barely alive and hoarsely crying for help.

It felt as if everything was a thousand times worse in the nightmare then it had been in the actual moment.

Was it like that because you were so desensitized to this stuff? That you had to re-experience it in a dream for it to kick in?

What if you can't change this? What if every single bad, traumatizing, gut-wrenching thing that happens to you is something you'll blow off in the future?

What if you go cold?

What if you go numb?

What if—

"Are...you okay?" Percys soft whisper broke through the silence. Breaking you out of your downward spiral.

You hadn't realized it, but hot tears were streaming down you face. You hated the fact percy had seen you like this ... unless he didn't.

It was dark enough, right? Maybe he couldn't see you falling apart from your own thoughts.

And, percys whisper was just quiet enough for you to ignore it. You could blow this off, right?

"The stars look lovely, don't you think?"

Wouldn't this be confirming the one thing you feared?

"...that doesn't answer my question." Percy whispered, looking to you with a frown.

When he heard you faintly sniffle only a few moments ago, he got a wave of panic and fear flooded through him.

Were you alright? Were you crying? What had really happened?

That was when he saw the tears and asked if you were alright, resisting the urge to hold you.

"I don't wanna lie to you, percy." You whispered, your voice cracking as tears threatened to stream out of your eyes.

You wiped away the few tears that spilled out, feeling colder and alone despite a human next to you.

Then, percy pulled you into a close hug.

It was warm. You nuzzled into his chest and sobbed quietly, not really caring if anyone would hear.

Percy smelled like the ocean breeze and the beach. His hug was comforting and not like anything else you've ever felt.

Percy held you closer when he saw your shoulders heaving in rhythm with your sobs, pressing a small kiss to your forehead.

"It's okay, I'm here. It's okay, I promise you're safe. It's okay, you're safe. You're safe." He whispered sweet nothings that meant everything to you.

After your sobs had died down and been reduced to sniffles, percy asked:

"Do you...wanna talk about it?"

You shook your head against his chest.

"Okay. Okay, that's okay." He whispered, placing another kiss to the top of your head.

Maybe someday he'll get to confess, but surely not now.

Someday.

°•~《☆》~•°

.

.

.

Kinda mad at myself for not making them kiss ngl :/

Based on a writing prompt from (I think) Bookingitonthedaily on Instagram

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

Bagginshield-tober prompt Hands ❤️❤️❤️

Of course! Starting this off with a nice sweet treat. 😊

Being on the road for months now with the dwarves, Bilbo had come to learn that there were some major differences between them. What was considered polite behavior in company, for instance. It took Bilbo a long time to learn that coming into Bag End and treating it like it was their own home to raid and rearrange was a sign of trust and friendship. It had been jarring and rather touching to know they had come to their ‘burglar’s’ house in the spirit of camaraderie. 

Then there was the importance of hair. Hobbits considered a heavy tuft of curls on one’s feet to be the pinnacle of attraction and sophistication. For dwarves with their hair and beards, it was a little more involved. Braids and beads had different meanings, and they used them to display many different things. Their honor, their duties, even who they were courting. Bilbo was endlessly fascinated to learn about what his friends chose to display to the world. However, it was their physical differences that interested Bilbo the most.

Their big rounded ears. Their broad shoulders and thick torsos. Their height but small dainty feet hidden inside bulky booted monstrosities. However, it was their hands that had caught Bilbo’s attention the most. Or rather, it was the hands of one particular dwarf that Bilbo couldn’t take his eyes off.

Ever since their hug on the Carrock, Bilbo has been overly attuned to Thorin’s hands. He thought about how they nearly encompassed his back when he pulled Bilbo close. He thought about how rough and calloused they were when they grabbed Bilbo’s own to keep him from tripping. He thought about how his own hand had been swallowed completely in his grasp. And even now, watching Thorin redo his braids in the moonlight, he could only focus on how gently they moved. How dexterous they were to make such tight braids with those thick digits. Bilbo felt a shiver travel down his spine.

What he wouldn’t give to have those hands in his own hair. Tracing their way down his ears. Following a path down his front. Complete encasing his…

“Master Baggins? What are you still doing up?”

Bilbo quickly shook himself of such thoughts, resisting the urge to blush like a tween thinking about their crush.

“Nothing! I…couldn’t sleep.” 

Thorin pinned him under his searching gaze. His eyes were so intense and beautiful, it was able to distract Bilbo from thoughts of his hands for the moment. Finally, Thorin curled his head to the side before getting up to walk outside. Bilbo hesitated for only a moment before getting up to follow him.

Thorin sat on the porch, attempting to light his pipe when Bilbo found him. He carefully sat down next to him, leaving a little bit of space between them. Thorin finally got it lit, taking a big inhale before blowing a smoke ring out into the night air. He handed the pipe over to Bilbo almost in challenge, and Bilbo quickly accepted. It was after Bilbo blew his own smoke ring that Thorin asked what troubled him. Bilbo was half tempted to say ‘you’ but pivoted and said something about Azog and the orcs currently on their trail. Thorin hummed along in agreement before he wrapped his warm, dry hand around Bilbo’s own. He could feel a fierce flush overtake him, and when Thorin gave it a small squeeze, Bilbo could swear his heart squeezed along with his hand.

“Your fear is well-founded. I too share the same worries. However, I find comfort in the faith I have in my company. Every single member.”

Bilbo gave him a quick, fleeting smile as he set his other hand on top of their conjoined ones. He traced his way over Thorin’s hairy fingers and knobby knuckles, utterly mesmerized.

“I think having a leader they can believe in gives the company courage.” He half-whispered. 

Thorin suddenly flipped his hand over, and Bilbo looked up making sure what he was doing was still okay. Thorin’s eyes were soft and his gaze imploring. Bilbo ducked his head under so powerful a look and began his new task of tracing all the lines along Thorin’s palm. 

“And I think having members so devoted to a cause not their own gives life to a dream the leader might never have thought possible.”

Bilbo paused in his movements as he slowly brought his gaze back up just as Thorin began to lean down. They met in the middle. A light chaste brush of dry and cracked lips against one another as Thorin’s hand gently traced its way down the side of Bilbo’s face leaving a wake of tingling sensations behind. 

Trick or Treat My Inbox

[hoseokslefteyebrow]

The Anomaly || JJK

Chapter 10: Flunctations pt.2

summary : In which you're isekai'd from your (own) parallel Jujutsu Kaisen universe to the canon universe.

wordcount : 2.2k

Pairing: Jujutsu Kaisen X Reader, eventually Character x Reader (idk who yet tho)

Masterlist | Next

Your eyes widen. 

Fushiguro Toji.

It happens in slowmotion.

This is the first time you've ever truly seen him. You've heard stories. Stories of your mother who grew up with him. She described him as strong on a different level. You've heard stories from Gojo. Unbelievably strong. A true fear to be reckoned with. You've heard Yuki speak of him. Free from cursed energy. Much like the one other person you're fond of.

You've never seen him before. Yet you just know it's him. It's a feeling you've never had before, but there's no possibility for it to be anyone else. No one else would jump in like he just did. (Except perhaps your Sukuna, but this ain't about him.) 

He's fast, disappearing mid-air, only to be stood right beside Maki, tugging at Cloud Jumper. He wins, tugging the weapon from Maki's hands. He walks past casually, like he's simply here to finish some simple job. From the corner of your eye, you notice Zen'In's old man tense, recognition flashing through his eyes.

You're left confused. You knew that the Geto Suguru of this universe went down the same road as your universe's Geto Suguru. You had read it right off Gojo's face back when he asked who you were. Geto had ended up that way thanks to his battle with Toji, among other reasons. 

Had that not happened here? Wasn't Toji supposed to be dead? You did notice something odd though. Black eyes. You have no idea why or where or how.

Nonetheless, you watch in amazement with the rest as Toji approaches the curse casually, no sign of fear.

The curse has no idea who he is, writing him off as unimportant and sending a really long ugly eel from his stomach.

The display is a little disgusting, but whatever.

Toji was not scared, or impressed. You don't catch his smirk as he beats through the curse's attack. It creates an opening for him, and he's quick to close in on the distance between them, whacking Cloud Jumper across its face. He's watching the curse fly from his attack with a crazed smile. He follows soon after, running over the water as he mercilessly attacks the curse again and again, sending him flying in every direction. The curse doesn't stand a chance.

If your universe's Toji was anything like this one, then you understand how Gojo lost from him. The man is visibly crazy, his attacks merciless, skilled, and fast.

Eventually, the curse finally regains his footing, and he sends a hoard of piranha curses at Toji, aimed in a straight line. Of course, Toji doesn't falter, whacking through every last one of them with ease, closing in on him once again. The curse is smart, and pulls him under as he aims at his stumic once more. The two disappear from sight, only to reappear later. First, the curse. Then, Toji, who's wrapped up like a cocoon in eels, it seems. It only takes Toji a moment to break free from the eels. Two giant isopods break the surface a moment after he breaks free, but he beats one down with a single blow, the other one falling soon after. 

Their fall creates a big wave on both sides. One heading straight towards your group, the other sending Toji and the curse back to the island. 

You react quickly, taking control of the wave and allowing it to flow back gently. When the wave dissipates, all of you are able to see the curse receiving a life threatening beating once again.

And now, he's drawing blood, seriously injuring the curse.

" Old man. Who is that?" 

It's Maki who's asking the question.

" A ghost." 

" Fushiguro, can you hold out a little longer?" 

You glance back at Megumi, noting his state. Fuck, you forgot that he's still deploying his domain. It must be taking a shit amount of effort to keep that going.

You take a few steps to stand beside him, gathering the water of the curse's domain to form a stream, pressing your hand to the skin on the back of his neck. You can't fully heal him while he's using his cursed technique, especially while he's using his domain, but at least this way his physical state won't get worse. Megumi takes a deep breath before answering.

" Yes." 

A horrific sound brings your attention back to Toji. Metal scraping against metal. He's sharpening Cloud Jumper. Soon enough, both ends of the once dull weapon are sharp enough to pierce skin with minimal effort.

The curse seems to realize it too, and jumps up. You're not the only one who notices. Naobito  is up in the air soon enough, pushing it back to Toji. Toji is soon to stab it with Playful Cloud. And then he's ripping the three parts loose, back to mercilessly beating the curse.

Then you're all back in the metro station. Your eyes widen. 

He really just beat the special grade curse by himself.

" Megumi!" 

He's dropped to his knees, choking up a bit of blood.

" I'm fine. Heal me later-" 

he's breathing heavily. You're worried, but you nod.

Everyone's focus shifts to Toji.

Who's side is he on?

Toji is walking slowly, however, before anyone of you can speak, a window breaks.

He's forced Megumi outside.

Your eyes are wide, and Maki and you both call out for him at the same time.

" Megumi!" 

You've jumped out of the window before you've finished saying his name. Toji is a few steps in front of you. You can see his eyes wide from the few meters you're stood away from him.

A moment later, a fire breaks out behind you. 

Your eyes widen, glancing between Megumi and your other allies.

" Go!  I- I'll handle this!" 

Megumi looks uncertain. You're uncertain too. Another eruption of flames.

" Just- stay safe! If you die- Nobara, Yuuji and I will kill you!" 

You send him a worried glance, and then you're uncapping your water bottles, sending yourself back up, just as a third eruption of flames happens.

And then you feel something. Or hear something. You're not sure. It's like a heartbeat. But it's ominous, like a warning.

You arrive back in the metro station just to see a flash of the cursed spirit as it leaves, dashing away.

You wonder if it heard the heartbeat too.

However, you have no time to think about it. The scene in front of you ir horrific. Zen'In's old man is completely burned. Nanami seems to be half burned, probably having managed to protect himself at the very last second, half of his body gruesomely burned while the other half seems fine.

Your eyes widen as he gets up, eyes dully scanning the scene, lingering on Maki, who seems in an even worse state, as she didn't have the cursed energy to protect herself.

" Nanami!" 

" Heal Maki first." 

You stop, pausing as you look at him. 

" Nanami-" 

" She needs your help more than I do. You're strong, Y/N. I don't know what your universe is like, but I hope things are not going along the same lines as here. heal Maki, Y/N. And when this is over, we will speak again." 

He gives you a short, small smile, and then he's walking away. Blade in hand, half of his body in completely burned. You stare after him for a moment, before turning to Maki. She stirs. at least she's alive.

You rush over to her, uncapping one of your water skins. You immediately manipulate the water onto your hands, deciding to try something new as you manipulate the water to cover every inch of her body in a thin sheen, hoping it will help heal her sooner. Soon enough, your own hands press down on her gently, your reverse cursed technique doing it's job.

" Y/N..." 

"Maki! I'm so glad you're alive." 

You release a tense sigh.

Slowly but surely, Maki's body heals, though scars do remain.

" I'm sorry, I can't avoid the scars."

" It's okay. Thank you for healing me." 

You nod at her, getting up. Admittedly, it took a lot of water and effort to heal her. You're more skilled in reverse cursed energy than regular cursed energy, but even you can't deny that healing a whole body is demanding of you.

She joins you, her eyes studying her new scars.

And then you feel it again. That ominous presence. It's heavy, demanding, and unmistakingly evil. It's faint, so thankfully it's far away. But it's still there.

" Y/N?, What is it?" 

" A cursed presence, I think." 

Maki's eyes widen, following your line of sight. What could that be? 

" Do you think it could be Sukuna's?" 

You send her a questioning look.

" Sukuna doesn't have any cursed energ- Oh, this universe's Sukuna." 

It takes you a moment to realize.

Maki nods.

" Do you know what our universe Sukuna's like?"

" yeah, he's the king of curses right?  His technique was slicing I've been told. And for some reason he's in Yuuji's body?- That part always got me a bit confused." 

You move towards Naobito, intending to heal him, but Maki puts a hand on your shoulder.

" Don't heal him. He's not worth the effort, and you'll need the remaining resources of water you have." 

You give her an uncertain glance, glancing down at the man who's laid out on the floor like a fry. Usually, you'd heal as many people as you could, but you happen to have heard already how horrible he is.

" He's treated you like shit your whole life, right?" 

You don't turn to her as you ask the question. Maki raises a brow in surprise.

" Yes, why? " 

You sigh, nodding as you turn to face her.

" In my universe, we're friends. I consider you my friend here too. I don't heal people who harm my friends." 

You're smiling at her, and Maki smiles back at you.

" That's sweet. I think it's best if you go and find Yuuji. If Sukuna has truly manifested for whatever reason, we're in trouble. I'll go help out Megumi." 

You nod at her.

" Okay. Stay safe." 

The both of you turn the opposite direction after that. Maki jumps out of the broken window, while you walk deeper into the metro station. The first scene that greets you makes you gasp. 

Two unfamiliar girls. One completely headless, her head body in a bowing position, and the other girl's body splayed across the ground, part of her head severed. You have no idea who these two are, but you still feel sorry for them. You have no idea who or what killed them. Glancing around, you notice a huge poster. Whatever fought here must have shattered the glass that held it, the material now loose.

Originally, you'd like for them both to lay side by side, under the poster you just found as a sign of respect. However, you're too afraid to touch them. A stupid unsettling feeling you have around dead bodies. Instead, you rip the poster in two, laying one part on each of them, wishing them to rest in peace.

You continue on your way, searching the halls for Yuuji.

Most of the metro station is empty, save for the rubble that's laying around.

Eventually, finally, you come across someone.

He reeks of cursed energy, making you wonder if he's really old or just special.

You cock your head, uncapping your leftover water skin.

" Hi." 

He stills, now turning to look at you. His hands are holding his head, sweat covering his features. He's definitely distressed. Silently, you wonder about what. 

His features are unique. He has dark eyes, surrounded by deep purple circles, like he's never slept before. His hair is tied up in two small ponytails, and on his face is a mark you could've sworn you've seen somewhere before.

" Are you okay?" 

-

" Come any closer and I'll kill you!"

Sukuna grumbles in annoyance, turning around.

The sight is ominous, horrific. He's covered in blood. However, he has 2 eyes, is seemingly a bit taller and buffer than the Yuuji she knows.

" I'm done with useless fights. Two other sorcerers have already tried to kill me, and surprise, surprise, they failed." 

Nobara's eyes narrow.

" Did you kill them?" 

His voice is the same. It's slightly creepy. He sounds bothered, or perhaps annoyed. 

" No. I'm not a murderer." 

Nobara lowers her weapon, fixing him with a look.

" You're from Y/N's universe." 

Sukuna's eyes widen. Finally, he calms down.

" Universe? You mean that this is a different one? "

Was that what Inumaki senpai was trying to tell him?

Nobara nods.

" Boy, do you have a lot to catch up on. But first, how did you come here?" 

The Anomaly taglist:

@luxylucylou @kalulakunundrum @strxbxrrylover @aethersslave @jenniferrvsesi @hanatsuki-hime @betizda

[redbleedingrose]

Always Epilogue Part 2

Summary: You and Azriel have been best friends for years after you joined the inner circle as the top healer in Velaris. But with Elain and Nesta’s recent arrival, Azriel has begun to ignore your friendship in favor of being together with Elain. You are heartbroken, and it is Starfall where you will be confined in the house of wind with Azriel and Elain. Everything will be okay though… right?

Word count: ~6.2K Warnings: minor spice, fluff, first time writing Masterlist, Epilogue Part 1 A/N: I want to start off by saying, I am so sorry this took so long to come out with. I am not super happy with it, but it is here and this is the end. As always, please please please like, reblog and comment. I love hearing your guys' thoughts. It always means so so much to me. I can't believe I made it this far. The fact I have written a series is mind blowing to me. I hope you guys at least like it <3 Love y'all so much!!!

6 Months 

Ever since your conversation months ago, Azriel had done everything in his power to spend time with you, to give you his undivided attention, to ensure that you knew he was sorry, that he took responsibility for his actions, that he would try to be better, that you were the only one he could ever want, the only one he would ever need. 

As the days went on, you spent more and more time with Azriel, and you noticed a change in him. There was a brightness in his laughter, he smiled more fully, more easily, and his general demeanor, his aura, the way he carried himself, had fully relaxed. It had become more open. His wings were often flared out, expanding into their full span and never compressed tightly against his back, like he had stopped using them to cause him discomfort. You had even noticed a change in his shadows behavior, once standing at attention in every setting, slithering across rooms to figure out who exactly was present, were now swirling freely around you both, tracing up your figure and tugging at your wrist, your waist, your hips, your thighs, anywhere they could wrap themselves around, pulling you closer to their master. While his shadows were still alert and oriented to their surroundings, intent on keeping you safe, they had become more subdued, almost less angry, less rabid. Even the people of Valeris were starting to notice the change in the shadowsinger. Before, they had been too fearful of the male to send a greeting his way, nodding in acknowledgement, then turning hastily away to avoid his dark gaze, his shadows a threatening presence surrounding him. Now, the people were readily, openly, waving at him, even comfortable enough to begin conversations with the male they once feared. 

And the changes in you had become… palpable. 

The constant presence of Az had left with the warmth of his presence, a constant contentedness. You woke up feeling fully rested, ready, excited even, to start a new day with your mate. The bags under your eyes had smoothed into your skin, and your smile lines grew deeper as the laughter you shared with Az became more frequent and fuller. Every moment you spent with him reminded you all over of why you had fallen for him initially. All the things you had shared with him over the years about your likes and dislikes, he had apparently stored into his mind, holding them close to his heart as he decided what he wanted to do with you, for you. He outdid himself every time. Every single time. Every time he took you somewhere, everytime he brought you tiny gifts, every time he whispered hushed murmurs into your hair as you cuddled, you felt loved. You felt cherished. You felt adored. 

Decades ago, you had mentioned your love for stargazing, even going as far as to change your sleep schedule to live nocturnally just so you could have the best view of the stars. It was a common thing in Velaris, something that a lot of the townspeople enjoyed. It worked for a couple months, until you were nearly passing out in the middle of training and then Az had forced you into his bed to sleep. He sat across from your splayed out body, legs stretched out with his back leaning against the oak bed frame reading his book, ignoring your protests as his shadows held your waist down to the bed. He didn’t even lift up his gaze from the story he was apparently engrossed in when he sternly replied, “sleep first, talk later.” Eventually the cool touch of his shadows and the warmth that radiated off the male had you slipping into a deep sleep. You had woken up six hours later to Az in the same position. He hadn’t moved besides turning the page to his book, watching over you as you slept. When his hazel eyes drifted toward your half lidded glare, he smirked and huffed out a laugh, “Welcome back to the land of the living sleeping beauty.” The nickname had your heart fluttering, you ignored it as you cleared your throat and muttered back a hiss that had Az nearly rolling in laughter. 

You looked back at the memory with a certain fondness, hints of his love emulating through his acts of friendship. And it seems he hadn’t forgotten any of it. Not that night. Not the stargazing. The first date he had taken you on, he had woken you up in the middle of the night when the rest of the city was still asleep, grasping at your ankle and yanking you out from under your warm blankets. He burst out in laughter at your meek attempts to smack his chest, pulling you into his embrace and pressing a long kiss into your temple murmuring apologies before taking the blanket off your bed and wrapping it around you. He flew you to the house of wind where there was a wool blanket laid out on the roof, you gasped at the array of freshly cut fruit, croissants, biscuits, cheeses and bread resting atop it. The sky was clear, not a single cloud in sight, giving you an unobstructed view of the twinkling stars in the night sky. Azriel tucked you under his arm as you settled down next to him, wrapping his wing around you to keep you warm as he pointed up at the sky, listing each and every constellation that was visible to the naked eye, recounting the legends that came with them, legend of goddess’ fighting with the gods, stories of the earliest night court rulers and how they came to be. When you had finally gathered the courage to ask when he had taken the time to learn about all of these constellations, he casually shrugged, mumbling the fact that he had gone to the deepest parts of the library searching for these stories, searching for the different night skies and all the constellations they held, and had memorized each and every one of them. Where they were in the sky, and the stories associated with them. Just for you. Just to impress you. Just to show you how much he cared. 

The fact he had gone out of his way to learn about your interests, the fact he spent his free time for months memorizing small intricate details despite his busy life being spymaster, just for you. Gods, he had your heart palpitating just from that. 

The next week, he had taken you to the rainbow, insisting on buying you whatever you wanted without any limit. And when you had insisted you didn’t need anything new, that you had everything you wanted, he laced his marred fingers with yours, peppering kisses into the back of your hand before pulling you into different stores. He patiently browsed through the dresses, the makeup, the jewelry himself, picking out what he wanted to buy for you, imploring you to try out his choices and to pick some of your own. When you had finally given in, he had smiled so widely, so fully, your cheeks had flushed. The entire day he had spent, flattering you with compliments on how beautiful and elegant you looked, spoiling you with different clothes and shoes and whatever your heart desired, claiming all the while that you were the most entrancing female he had ever had the pleasure of laying his eyes on. 

A couple of days later, he had flown you out to the libraries in Day Court just to spend the entire afternoon picking out books for each other to read. When you found your picks, he led you to one of the gardens outside, sitting down next to you in a bench swing, pressing his entire side into yours, contently reading your pick for him. The book he had chosen for you had been a lovely, heartbreaking, remarkable tale of an antihero finding peace in his life with his wife and two twin girls. At some point during your reading, you had glanced up to find Az silently watching you. His tan cheeks flushed under your gaze, smiling sheepishly at you as he played with your fingers, embarrassed to have been caught admiring you in the sunlight. You gently chuckled, leaning up to press a soft kiss into his burning cheek before resting your head against his shoulder, falling back into the depths of your book, feeling perfectly content in his presence, feeling at peace in his presence, like there was nothing to worry about when he was around. And that is how Azriel made you feel. Safe. Content. At peace. Joyful. Full of life. 

This morning was no different. He had shown up before sunrise, pressing gentle kisses all over your face to wake you. He had already picked out your clothes, a lace blue top with waist high pants, setting them out before waiting on the balcony for you to get ready. As you walked out, his jaw nearly fell to the floor, hazel eyes sparkling as he admired you. “You are the most stunning female to have ever existed, my love,” his lips brushed against your ear, murmuring his tender worship before pulling you into his grasp, wrapping your legs around his waist and securing his arm around your hips as he pushed you both into the sky, carrying you to distant mountains in the horizon where you hiked up a long empty forested trail so you could watch the sunrise at the peak. The pink melting with gold and blue was one of the most stunning views you had ever seen, enhanced with the humming of your bond as Azriel’s arms found themselves locked around your waist, stroking at your belly. The silence you shared wasn’t an empty one. It was utter tranquility. When the sun had risen into the sky,  you turned to wrap your arms around Az’s waist, thanking him for giving you this experience. He only smiled, leaning down to kiss your temple, murmuring into your hair as he buried himself further into your arms that your day together wasn’t ending here, that this was only the beginning, how he had wanted to start of the day by bringing you to one of the hidden treasures of Night Court that he had found during his years of work as spymaster.

You spent a couple of more moments soaking in the warmth of the sun before following Azriel down a winding path that seemed to disappear into the brush. You gripped his hand the entire way down, his thumb stroking at your knuckles, your shared puffs of breath the only sound besides the morning doves coos. You walked for what seemed like miles, until finally, the path Az took you on ended at what seemed to be an opening through the trees. You gasped at the site before you, a remote cabin cafe near the bottom of the mountain that neighbored a waterfall. The water spilling over the edge of the cliff had turned golden from the sunrays, and the fresh mist created a cool sheen around you and Az. He quickly kissed your cheek before rushing inside to grab you a warm egg and cheese sandwich and coffee that he had promised would be the best breakfast you would ever have. The cafe had a porch overlooking the waterfall where the mist could still float onto the patrons without overwhelming them, and you found a little corner nook that seemed like the perfect view to the waterfall and surrounding foliage. Your mate finally rejoined you, sandwiches and coffee in toe, sitting down next to you to take in the scene. 

You had spent the rest of your day there, quietly conversing with Az about anything and everything that came to mind. Laughter was shared between the two of you, along with openly shared loving gazes sent to one another. To think that months ago, you were nearly considering rejecting him as a mate… the thought was nearly sickening now. Any time you mind accidentally drifted to it, your stomach would squeeze and your heart would drop. Every time though, the second Az would squeeze your thigh with his warm hand, you would forget. He sat so freely. His wings were relaxed, nearly drooping on the ground as one was leaning into your back against the chair. The sight of his damp curly ink hair pressing against his forehead, his tan skin highlighted, nearly glowing, by the sun, hazel eyes bright next to the waterfall that glowed with starlight left you breathless. He was truly, and effortlessly, the most beautiful male you had ever known to exist. And to think he felt similarly about you was nearly unbelievable. But here he was, constantly voicing his belief in your beauty, not as an opinion, but as pure fact. 

An hour before sunset, Az insisted on eating an early dinner before setting off on your next adventure. The cafe owner, an older female, who was gentle as she was kind, brought out a full fledged meal consisting of beef stew, loafs of freshly baked bread, and mash coupled with a bottle of wine. She hugged Azriel, kissing the top of his head as she sung his praises, rambling on about how, “he has spent decades talking about you dear, really, I am surprised he finally found the courage to bring you,” and “you are so beautiful dear, Azzy could not have done you justice even if he tried.” The poor male turned red at the nickname, staring you down as a smirk lilted your lips, knowing that endless teasing was about to befall him the moment the female walked back inside. “Azzy?” you mouthed at him, only to have your foot gently pulled by his shadows in reply. The female squeezed your hands after setting down the food, her honeyed eyes gazing into yours, simmering with joy, “I am so happy you are here. The hours this young male has spent loving you is beyond comprehension,” turning to Az with a wink, patting his shoulder before walking back inside. You sat for a moment, a bit stunned by her words, staring at the squirming male before you, it nearly made you laugh how shy he got under your gaze. You pressed your lips together into a warm smile, gesturing at the food, “Let’s eat sweets.” 

Despite being stuffed full, your mate insisted on getting a dessert the two of you could share, “It is the best cake you will ever try dove, I am telling you.” The smell of pineapple wafting from the plate had been so mouthwatering as he set it down in front of you, you almost immediately began digging in. The spymaster, however, snatched your spoon right out of your grasp, chucking it into the forest as you gaped at him, “what the fuck Azriel?” He smirked in reply, picking up his spoon, and scooping the whipped cream off the cake, nonchalantly popping it into his mouth, his eyes never leaving yours. You gasped in confusion, but before you could ask him what the hell he was doing, he scooped another part of the cake onto his spoon, this time holding it out to you. You reached up to take the spoon from his grasp, but he, again, pulled away. “What the hell, Az?” you exasperatedly rolled your eyes as he held out the spoon to you again, “What game are you playing?” 

He huffed out a laugh, clearly amused by your annoyance, “No games sweetheart, just wanna feed you myself.” Your continued gaping had his expression dropping into one of shyness, a blush spreading across his cheeks as embarrassment began to fill within him, “I– I’m sorry. Did I overstep?” You opted to not respond, giving him a taste of his own medicine for a moment, watching as he began squirming in his seat, this time holding out the spoon for you to grab onto, clearly uncomfortable that he may have crossed a boundary, that he may have upset you. After a couple of seconds, you decided you had had enough of teasing the poor male, leaning forward, enclosing your lips around the spoon, keeping your eyes locked on his. The cream melted in your mouth, and you shut your eyes, humming around the spoon before pulling away to watch Azriel’s reaction. His flush had spread across his face towards his neck and ears as he shifted in his seat, wings flaring at his sides as he stared at you, his jaw dropping when you hummed again, winking as your tongue slipped out to lick the cream that had been left on your lips. 

You giggled in delight, a shot of electricity coursing through your veins as the scent of the shadowsinger had shifted into something deeper, more musky, something more delicious that had you craving more than just the dessert before you. You spent the next couple of minutes going back and forth, allowing Az to feed you a bite and then himself, playing a coy game of seduction with the spymaster with your tiny moans and winking. With the last crumbs of the cake dropping into your mouth, you were close to begging him to take you right there on the table, but before you could utter out a word, he interrupted you, a soft look replacing his heated one, “I brought you here for a reason, Y/N.” 

You sighed, slightly disappointed at the shift in the mood, but accepting it rather quickly as curiosity began to seep into you, “Oh?” urging him to continue. 

He nodded, his scarred hand coming onto the table, clasping onto yours as he pulled you out of your seat and into his embrace. You lifted your hands to caress his muscled arms before landing on his chest, smoothing down the wrinkles that had formed on his shirt from the hours spent under the mist of the waterfall. “I– I hurt you deeply on Starfall. I ruined the night for you– for us. There is no making up for it, my love. But I heard that there was going to be a rare meteor shower tonight that would be visible from the peak of the mountain right after sunset. It is no Starfall… but… I want,” he sighed, pulling at the back of your shirt in nerves, “I want to redo that night with you, if you’ll let me?” 

You were, for what seems like the hundredth time today, stunned by Azriel. Stunned by his thoughtfulness. Stunned by his love. Never in a million years did you think he would ever think to do something like this for you. He brought you to the peak of this mountain to watch the sunrise, claiming it as a wonder of the night court. He brought you to this lovely cafe where you spent the entire day enjoying each other's presence, enjoying the openness of the bond you shared. He had spent the past couple of weeks, months, just loving you, adoring you the way he wanted to for decades but hadn’t. You hadn’t suggested anything, you hadn’t forced him to do any of it. This was all him. It was nearly overwhelming, the love he was showing you so unapologetically, so truthfully, so thoughtfully. You could feel the urge to cry building up, this time from joy. Joy that your mate was giving you so generously, over and over again. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just…” He pulled you closer, pressing your body against his as he inhaled, “I hate how Starfall turned out this year. I just… I just want to do…” He paused once again, recollecting himself, a wry smile appearing on his face at the gentle squeeze you pressed into his shoulders, “I want to make it up to you. I want this to be our mini Starfall this year. But truly… if you don’t feel up for it, we can go home and do whatever you want… or I mean, I can leave as well if you want to spend the rest of your night alone, I understand completely, it's been a long day milling about and–” 

You cut him off before he could ramble on, quickly shaking your head, “No, Az, please. I want to see the meteor shower with you,” yanking your mate down into a bear hug, burying your face into his neck as you sent waves of love down the bond which he immediately returned with ten times the force you had used. He inhaled the scent of your hair, rubbing his hands up and down your back, squeezing at the back of your neck, soaking in the comfort you were providing. You held each other for a couple of more minutes, letting his shadows enclose you two into darkness. 

And then, without warning, Azriel pulled himself away, a huge grin pulling at his lips. 

“Azriel,” you shrieked, breathlessly laughing into the shadowsinger’s muscled back as he threw you over his shoulder swiftly, securing his arm around your thighs before he took off into flight, ascending with no extra effort despite carrying your weight on one of his sides. You clutched at his belt, adrenaline pumping through your veins, not because you were afraid he would drop you, but instead because of the thrill of the moment of intimacy shifting into one of playfulness, “We are gonna be late, my dove, we need to hurry or else we will miss it,” he merrily shouted back. 

You shifted slightly, turning your face towards his back so he could hear you, your teasing voice barely reaching his eardrums over the sounds of the wind whipping around you, “And whose fault is that?” You gasped as the male landed a swift smack on your ass, following it with a gentle bite on the clothed flesh. You kicked your feet, wriggling in his embrace which he only tightened, “How was I supposed to know you would take forever in eating our dessert, my love?” The carefree tone he used highlighted the ease the spymaster felt as he flew you to the peak of the mountain, night falling hastily as the heavens began to peak through the dark. 

You stood with your back against his chest, his arms secured around your waist as you both stared up at the sky. His wings had encircled you completely, providing their warmth when you had shivered against the chill of the wind. He had done it almost reflexively, like he hadn’t even thought of it. The moment he felt the slight shift in your stance, his wings strung around you to blanket you. You patiently waited, leaning into Az, resting the back of your head into his chest, admiring the brightness of the stars and the moons. 

And then, a bright streak lit the night sky. You gasped at the beauty, the meteor leaving a trail of stardust that twinkled in a prism of color, the sky merely morphed around the pressure of the spinning rock. And then another streaked across the night sky. And then another. And another. And another. Until the night sky had brightened into an aurora of meteors, the stardust twinkling brighter than any of the stars in the background. Tears lined your eyes at the beauty of the sight. Never had you seen anything like this. Starfall didn’t even compare in terms of the magnificence to this. 

“Azriel,” You paused, swallowing the lump that had formed in your throat, “Thank you. This is so, so stunning.” Your hands gripped at the muscles of his arms that were wrapped around you, squeezing as tightly as you could. He strengthened his embrace around you, kissing your neck, then the lobe of your ear, and then your temple before resting his chin atop of your head, “The depths of my love for you are endless, my dove. You don’t ever need to thank me. Not for tonight. Not for today. Not for any of this. You deserve every ounce of love and affection I have for you. All of it belongs to you. And I can guarantee you that this sight… it does not even begin to match your beauty.” 

A while after, Azriel had laid out the same wool blanket he had used on the roof of the house of wind months ago, allowing for you to lay down, one of his shoulders supporting the back of your head. Occasionally, he would lean down to press kisses into your temple or your forehead, or just to smell your hair sending strokes of warmth, peace, content, and love down your bond that was now singing. Your hand had searched for his, interlocking your fingers together the second you found it, rubbing the scarred skin with your thumb, lifting it up every once and a while to kiss every ridge and line that marred the back of his hand and palm. 

And you stayed that way, for hours and hours until the meteor shower had stopped, the moons and the remaining aurora now being the only source of light in the night sky. You turned, shifting to rest your chin against his chest, leaning up every once and a while to kiss his sharp jawline. His iris’ flickered back and forth between yours, caught in a deep thought that he murmured out after kissing the tip of your nose, “You know dove, I have always felt so terrible about my hands. I hate the way they look. I hate the way they are ruined by the horrors of my past. I– I torture people, and sometimes I think that maybe the mother left my hands marred because of how I use them to hurt others.” His eyes grew distant, as if he was remembering the sins of his past, the sins of his future. “Stop that, Azriel. Right now.” You pulled his hands into your chest, holding them close to your heart, “You protect the Night Court with these hands. You protect the people of Valeris with these hands. You protect your high lord and lady with these hands. And you protect me with these hands. These beautiful, perfect hands are nothing to be ashamed of, my love. I absolutely adore every crevice, every ridge, every inch of these hands. Honestly, they are my favorite part about you.” 

He stared at you for a moment, searching your eyes for any hint of a lie, but he couldn’t find any. A small smirk lilted at his lips, “Your favorite part, dove? I can promise you that one day, that will change.” You snorted at his cheekiness, a small… maybe a large, secret part of you believing him. But there was no way you were going to tell him that. You would, however, meet his teasing with your own, “I worship every part of you Azriel, don't you know that?” You pushed yourself up, using his chest as your anchor, lifting your leg over his to move yourself into his lap. His grip shifted from your hands to the curve of your hip,  “Oh?” he asked breathlessly, his pupils blown wide as his hazel iris’ darkened into a deeper, burnt shade of brown. 

“Oh yes, Azriel” you leaned down, a hair's-width separating your lips from his. His breathing quickened, feeling his heart begin to race beneath where your hands were placed on his chest, you closed the distance, licking at his parted lips, sliding your tongue across the plump of his bottom lip. His eyes fluttered shut as he moaned into your parted mouth, suckling on your prodding tongue, reclasping his hands at your hips, tightening their hold as you began undulating against him, locking your lips together as the sounds of his groans filled the night air. 

10 months

You stood in the kitchen, silently stirring the soup that you were warming for dinner tonight, lost in thought and missing your mate dearly. Azriel had gone off on a mission to Dawn a couple of days ago with a promise of being back as soon as possible. And true to his word, earlier in the evening, he had sent word that he was back in Valeris, but he would need to debrief with Cass and Rhys before he could join you. The moment you had received word, you had moved to the kitchen, ready to eat dinner with your mate and then stay up with him for the rest of the night. And maybe… maybe you would keep him in bed with you, and refuse to let him go. 

You smiled to yourself when you heard the door to your balcony open, pushing the soup off the stove, and running towards your bedroom where he stood at the doorway waiting for you. You didn’t hold back, leaping into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist and leaning in to press passionate kisses into his lips. He smiled into each kiss, chuckling at your eagerness, holding you up by your ass and kicking the glass door shut behind him. He continued moving his lips against yours as he carried you out of the room, slowing your kisses into softer ones, and then into pecks before plopping you onto the couch. He didn’t hesitate for a second, pushing your legs apart to rest his own in between them and nuzzling into your neck as he flopped his entire body weight onto you. 

You laid together in silence, one of your hands running up in the space between the spymaster’s wings, massaging at the tender knots, all the while allowing his shadows to play with your hair. “They missed you,” Az murmured as he pressed open mouthed kisses into your neck, running his fingers up and down your side, feeling every curve, indentation, every part of you that belonged to him. You hummed in reply, preening at Azriel’s attention, your other hand fumbling with the locket he had given you decades ago, twisting and turning it between your fingers, and then opening and shutting it creating a soft clicking noise. 

Azriel pulled away, letting out a soft chuckle, before fingering the locket away from you, rubbing at the constellations and the poem engraved into the solid gold, “What does it mean Az?” Your honeyed tone encouraging his shadows to sing back sweet nothings at their master's love. 

He stayed silent for a moment, a shy smile gracing his beautiful face, a raw contrast of his usual stoicness, his fearlessness, and yet, here he lay before you. With every part of his soul bare, every part of his heart exposed to allow for you to do whatever you wish to it. He burrowed his face back into your neck, suddenly shy, hiding the flush that crept up his neck to the pointed tips of his ears, “It’s a poem, dove,” his words slurring together, drunk on the feeling of you pressed against him. Your now free hand reached down to play with the scarred fingers of his free hand, his breath catching every time you lifted one to press a gentle kiss into the flesh. 

A huff teared through your lips as you nipped at the pad of his pinky finger, quickly soothing the sting with a kitten lick that had the spymaster’s wings flaring as his body shuddered against yours. “I figured that out for myself Az,” you paused, shifting your gaze down to his, throwing one of your legs around his waist, “I mean what does it translate to?” He stared at you for another moment, eyes shifting between yours, studying you, memorizing you. Memorizing the way your hair frames your face, memorizing the way the warmth of the flames creating a soft glow to your skin, memorizing the color of your eyes that he can never find the words to describe the beauty of, memorizing the way your eyebrows move independently allowing him hints of your emotions, memorizing the teasing smirk you flashed at him that had his heart skipping a couple of beats. The words slipped out between his pink lips as smoothly as water flowing through a river, 

“Oh my beloved.

You have taken my darkness, 

As the light of a bright shining star that is you.

I am yours. 

I’m a dark darkness, and you are my enchanting light.

You are my golden morning sun,

You are my silver moonlight.

I am yours, Oh my beloved.”

Every word came with a pulse of love down your bond, a pulse of longing, a pulse of worship, a pulse of devotion. It built up inside you, a welcome sensation, a feeling of belonging, a feeling of yearning that ended in a tender passionate love that you carried for the shadowsinger, for the spymaster of the night court, for the male laying before you, for your best friend, for the love of your life, for your mate. Az sucked in a shaky breath, pausing, his eyes flickering with a fervor and nerves, but otherwise, was still, with his hand pressed into the curve of your waist, letting the heat seep in through the fabric of your dress. The only sign of movement in the room came from his shadows that swirled around you, encompassing you both into a comfortable emptiness that separated reality in this moment, from the reality of the outside world. 

Even in the darkness, you could feel his eyes hadn’t left yours. He hadn’t left you. The steam of warm air that slipped passed his lips pressed a gentle kiss into yours, reminding you, he would never ever leave you. The candescence of his voice lulled your racing heart as you reeled at his ballad, your mind dissecting every word and phrase that he, Azriel, had chosen to inscribe in the locket you wore since the moment he had gifted it to you. After another shaky inhale, he continued, 

“Every sorrow I carry,

Yanked away

As you fill my eyes with your light

As you talk to me without speaking

My world is in your love.

Oh my golden morning sun, 

Oh my silver moonlight,

Oh my beloved, I am yours.”

“Oh Azriel…” his shy smile returned as he studied your reaction to his words. You didn’t have anything to say. There were no words that you could say, that you could even think of saying that could properly express the way you were feeling right now. So you reached down to grasp his chin, leaning down to move your lips against his in a series of kisses that echoed with the love you poured down the bond. After a couple of moments, the timer for the oven went off. And you forced yourself away after another rush of kisses, taking a deep sigh, pushing him off your body but pulling him up with you to follow you into the kitchen. You seated him at the small dining table, resting your hands on his shoulders, leaning in for another kiss which he gladly returned, eager for more. A low hum was tugging at your bond as you slowly moved away, putting your oven mitts, opening the door to it, allowing the warm air to rush against your face as you pulled out and set before Azriel, a blueberry pie. Your mate's favorite dessert. You shakily smiled at him as his shocked gaze turned away from the piping hot dessert to you. You nervously wrung your hands together, “And the constellation?” 

His throat bobbed, “The…” He stared up at you, mouth opening and closing as he continued to swallow on the air that had suddenly left him, “The what?” His eyes flicked back and forth between yours as you seated yourself next to him, leaning forward to cut a slice out of the pie to place in front of him. “What does the constellation mean, my love?” His body shook as you took the fork that was resting on the table, trembling as you picked it up and cut through the edge of the pie on the plate, bringing it up to your lips to blow some air to cool it down. 

“It was the only constellation that was present in the night sky the day we met,” he muttered, his hazel eyes suddenly lined with tears as he held his breath watching your slow movements. 

A tear escaped, slipping down his cheek as you nodded in understanding, smiling at your mate as you brought the pie to his lips. He didn’t move, hazel iris’ needing to know. Needing to know if this was what he thought it was. If this was you offering food because you were accepting the mating bond. “Please Az. Eat the pie, and let me accept the bond.” A choked sob exhaled past his lips as he took a gasp of relief, your own tears of happiness streaming down your cheek as he leaned forward, humming as he stuffed the bite into his mouth, the golden thread tying you together, glowing and singing with acceptance and love. He pushed the plate away the second he finished swallowing, yanking you into his lap, kissing every tear that had spilled past your cheeks away before finally, slotting his lips against yours. “I love you so much, my beautiful mate, my dove,” he murmured out in between gasps as your hands cupped his cheeks closer, pressing your lips together harder, “I love you too Az, always.”

Taglist: @paasrin @positivewitch @fieldofdaisiies @judig92 @sv0430 @highlady-ofillyria @wrensical003@brekkershadowsinger@starswholistenanddreamsanswered@mrs-azriel @cityofidek @nova-stardragon @thewarriormoon @ilovespideyyy@azzydaddy@bookish-dream @nobody00sthings @marigold-morelli@solossweater@rubygirly@hanasakr@ellievickstar @shadowcrossworld @lucyysthings@cameronsails @peachycandy10 @bruhhv @flyingsquids @adreamerforthestars@lahoete@mis-lil-red@his-sweet-nightmare@esposadomd@blurredlamplight@elizarikaallen@tiffthebookworm@valeridarkness@wifeofcamillamacaulay @everyonehatescarmen  @azriels-favorite-simp@goldentournesol@marina468@elsie-bells@slvtherinseeker@cafe-inaaa@honeyrydernot@itsonlymemyself-and-i@nemesis6666@thegirlintheshadows101-blog@kennedy-brooke @chocolatecakelargeshake

[deathbxnny]

Alright, I've finally found the time to write the second part to "No Happy Endings" for my dear Flower Anon! This one is very dark, so please read the content tags, before reading the one-shot!!!

(Part one)

Content: CW!VAGUE SMALL MENTIONS OF MURDER, DECAPITATION, Potential ooc Arlecchino?, heavy angst, hurt/no comfort, small mention of depression/suicidal ideation, blood, gaslighting

Reader has no set pronouns!

((Not fully proofread))

《And he imagined you with him. (Lyney x Reader)》

"Do you understand the point of this mission, Lyney?"

It was a simple question.

One, that on any other day, could've easily been answered with a single word. But ever since you've disappeared over two weeks ago, Lyney found himself at a loss for an answer. He shifted on his feet, tongue wetting his chapped lips, before he hummed weakly and nodded. None of his usual bravado or confidence in sight.

"Ofcourse, Father."

He winced ever so slightly at the absolute pathetic stutter in his tone. Why did he even bother replying at all? There was no point in hiding his true feelings, not that he could have. They were engraved in his sleep deprived and pale face.

But Arlecchino decided to play along with his lies. Something he'd come to regret until he took his last breath.

"I knew you did, ofcourse... but just in case you dared to forget one day, let me give you a reminder you'll forever remember."

Lyney raised his head for the first time since he and his siblings were asked to meet the Harbinger in this dim, dark room. He felt a slight shiver run up his spine at the cold and unimpressed gaze that met his unsure one, his body stiff and painfully tense. His siblings on each side of him didn't move a singular muscle, perhaps out of fear of getting her attention next. And for once, he deeply wished to be out of the spotlight.

Arlecchino slowly raised her hand, before placing it on top of a box. Had it always been there? He didn't remember, the room suddenly feeling so suffocating and warm. Sweat rolled down his forehead, as he chose to ignore the worried glances that Freminet and Lynette gave him.

He knew that it was painfully obvious that something was wrong with him, and yet, he still wanted to keep up the facade desperately. It was a matter of survival at this point. And it made him wonder in that moment what had brought him to this point again.

It was still you, ofcourse. It was always you. Ever since that night, he had ro regretfully reject you.

In the agony that filled him over the last few weeks without you, he had begun becoming very sloppy and clumsy with everything he did. He was completely out of it, practically spiraling head first into a deep hole he didn't want to crawl out of anymore. He just wished to know where you were.

He hadn't slept properly in forever. He couldn't keep food down. He saw you in every mirror, in every reflection. He heard your laughs in the sound of birds chirping in early mornings, heard your stories in his wild, hazy dreams of your ever fading figure.

Every was just you. But you were nowhere to be found.

He had tried finding you after that night, he really did. And yet, no one knew of your whereabouts. You had disappeared overnight, your home empty and vacant, no trace of you, despite everything still being in place. It's like you never even went home after the ball to begin with.

Deep down, especially now, he knew what had happened to you. He could see it replaying in his Father's eyes, perhaps even see the blood dripping off her sharp talons that seemed to dig into the lid of the box in silent anger that not even she could conceal. But he still chose to dream.

He chose to believe that you had simply left the country, like the rumors told him you did. He imagined you laying in the bright fields of Mondstadt, the wind blowing through your clothes and hair, as you sung beautiful memories. He imagined you traversing through the vast and empty Sahara of Sumeru, eyes squinting against the scorching sun. He imagined you drinking tea in Liyue harbor, your eyes gazing out longingly into the distance as the sun set over the ocean. He imagined you visiting a Shrine in Inazuma, the Sakura trees swaying in the wind as you rested against them.

And finally, he imagined you in Snezhnaya with him, your hands intertwined, a golden band on each of your fingers. He imagined you doing all of those things with him, just like you always told him you wanted to. He loved it when he heard you speak of your future with him always in mind. It gave him the feeling of having a choice for once.

Even if it was all crushed under the Knaves heel now.

"Father, I-" "-Open the box, Lyney." Arlecchino slid it towards him, uncaring now if the blood that poured through the thin cardboard drenched the wood below. Said young man felt Freminet step behind him ever so slightly, Lynette practically not breathing anymore once she realised what was going on. The terror and disbelief that filled the air was palpable.

"Father, you didn't..." Lynette was at a loss for words, not knowing what exactly she was accusing the woman of. Or perhaps she didn't want to believe it. Freminet gripped onto Lyney's vest, his hand shaking as he gulped weakly, when Arlecchino sighed and shook her head in utter disappointment from where she sat.

"I can't believe that such a simple distraction made you all stray so far from what you are really here for. Especially you, Lyney. Didn't you want to take my place one day?" No. No, he didn't. Not anymore. He wanted to die more than anything. Melt into a puddle at her feet and hopefully merge with the blood that dripped off the table onto the floor. "Prove to me that you meant it. Prove to me that you understood our mission. Because this-" She tapped a sharp claw against the lid, her head resting against her palm as though she was bored. As though she wasn't completely destroying whatever was left of his heart and soul. "-should've never made me have to do this. It's your fault, and you have to fix this now."

He hated the way she spoke to him. He felt like a child being scolded. He knew she was trying to twist his mind and reattach the strings you had cut with your love for him. And yet, he realised that it didn't even matter anymore. The quicker he got done with all of this, the quicker he could see you again. He despised how that actually filled him with slight relief. He had truly completely and utterly given up on everything. And Lynette was the first to notice, as she shook her head and whispered for him to not do it. To not do this to them, to himself.

But Lyney just pried himself free from their grasp, stepping forward, a calm smile finding his face. "Ofcourse, you're right, Father. As always." "Lyney, no, please-" "-We've angered Father enough already." The young man uttered nearly sternly before his hand took Arlecchino's place, his thumb pressing against the underside of the box's lid. And then he paused. His hand was trembling, giving him away. But he couldn't let his last show end like this. His smile stretched wide and painfully when he flipped it open at last, his body taking in a deep, shaky breath.

He had found you at last. And it broke all his dreams with it.

Freminet gagged and turned away, a hand clasping over his mouth. Lynette blinked rapidly, nearly stumbling into a seat behind her, practically close to passing out. And Lyney? Oh, how he crumbled. He couldn't take it. He couldn't take the sight of your head resting in this small box, the disrespect making him sick with anger and disbelief. His hands slapped against the table, as he leaned over it, shoulders trembling when he finally began crying pathetically. It hurt. Everything hurt.

And the malice and spite became even clearer when he noticed the rainbow rose that was placed behind your ear. Just the way he used to do it.

He burned with fury, the flames reaching high and wide, spreading into every part of his body, until he met his Father's unimpressed gaze at last through his blurry sight. He hated her. He hated everything. Why did she do this to him? Why couldn't she just have threatened you to leave the country? Why? He had so much to say, so much to scream at her, but all that came out of him were gasps for air and uncontrollable sobs.

Arlecchino hummed in approval at the broken state of all of her dear children, before she stood up, having achieved her disciplinary goals for the night. She didn't spare them a glance anymore, as she passed by them, knowing she had gotten the point across loud and clear. Lyney slid to his knees, unable to bear any of it anymore.

"I hope, my reminder will be enough to return you all to the right path. Fountaine will thank you for your pain." She said, closing the door behind her on her way out of the room, a satisfied smile on her lips at the sound of well-deserved agony.

It was all for the greater good in the end, after all.

Okay! This one was admittedly a bit difficult to write, but I hope you liked it anyway, Flower Anon! I'm always super thankful for your great request!!!<33

[heartfullofleeches]

Maybe you can do Snow White for the fairytale thing where the hunter reader is walking in a forest and trips on one of the dwarfs and accidentally kisses Snow White which makes Snow White think they are their true love

The forest was a mystical place.

Anyone with functioning eyes and a boundary with reality would agree. As the sole human resident of the land, you have bore witness to a plentiful share of oddities, but nothing could ever prepare you for what was to come the day after. Mermaids and winged creatures. Giants and fairy folk no bigger than your palm. You developed a tolerance to these beings, but all paled in comparison to the utter headache you gained that fateful day.

The day had begun with you scouring the forest floor for stray branches. A good source of kindling for fires, and keeping out trespassers with varying warning signs and contraptions. With your eyes in the dirt, the events unfolding around you go unnoticed until its too late. Twisted, gnarled trees with hides the color of burnt lumber shooting upright and flourish with a radiant, pinkish glow. The sudden abundant growth of flowers and wildlife. Two harrowing signs of what you were soon to come across.

You start to realize as a squirrel runs by your foot. Narrowly avoiding stepping on the rodent's tail by a hard, you watch the rodent carry the flower in its mouth up a tree and drop down onto a glass container in the middle of the field. It drops the plant over the slumbering face in the coffin and joins the rest of the animals in mourning for the lost soul. As literal tears fall from their eyes you step back - looking for an exit that's already gone. You were not prepared for this.

Every now and again there existed those who didn't heed the warnings. A young woman on her way to her grandmother's. Children abandoned by their parents and taken in by a witch. The forest centered around these individuals and made their lives something out of a picture book. You've experienced this before and they're nothing short of living through a nightmare. You can't return home until their stories are over and sometimes that can take up to years. You never age, but you feel every waking moment to this day.

Who knows how long this time will take? The time isn't a major factor, but you rather not waste a second in this hell. If you wanted to leave on your own accord, you had to do things yourself.

You walk over to the coffin. A young person rests within. Their skin is as pale as fresh snow, rose kissed cheeks the only drop of color to their frozen face. They wear commoner clothing, but the crown tucked into their hair and necklace around their neck tell a different tale. There's a strange lump in their throat, flexing with every minor breath they take. Their lips hang open with the ragged draw of air they suck in, airways clearly blocked.

The forest animals tear into the safety of the trees as you toss your axe aside and shove the lid off the coffin. You drag the unconscious figure onto the forest floor and bend them forward, patting their back with pressured blows that increase in force as they spit and wheeze. When that doesn't work, you get behind and wrap your arms around their chest - thrusting upwards with your forearms. The blockage flies out with the fourth push, the stranger limp in your arms as their breathing controls to a stedy flow. Their eyes flutter open with the most doe like expressions as a faint smile creeps onto their face.

"My love?..."

You shove them off you and try to stand, but they ground you to the floor with surprising strength. Their cold hands grip at your face, moving stray strands of hair and wiping at the dirt that coated your skin. It's never been more clear to you how callused your hands have grown until their porcelain flesh comes into contact with your own.

"I knew you'd come for me... As the apple's curse took hold I didn't fear for a single moment because I knew you'd be there."

You shove their hands away as they ghost over a scar beneath your right eye. "Listen, I'm glad you're okay, but I'm not your lover."

"Oh, but you are! My family always told me true love's kiss is the only-"

"I didn't kiss you. You were choking on something and I got it out. This should be over soon so I should be going."

You try to get up again - this time their nails stop you.

"It may not have been a kiss, but there still is a contention between us. I feel it. It was fate that led you to me... Don't throw our chance at true happiness away."

"I told you- I'm not interested!" In an attempt to distance yourself from their claws, you reach for your weapon that was no longer in the vicinity. A short man with pointy ears wields your axe instead. The tool is bigger than his whole body, but he handles it well with the help of another. There's about seven of them in total. When they notice your puzzled stare, they point it at you.

"What are you doing with our Snow?"

"I'm not doing a thing. I'm trying to get home."

The formerly unconscious individual deem as Snow pins you in a chokehold to their chest. "Everyone! My spouse has found me. Like the stories go, true love's embrace has healed me. With their aid I will be able to return home and take the throne from my step mother, and we will bring a new era of peace to all."

The dwarfs break out in cheer which you quickly shoot down. "I am not who you think I am. I'm sure your real prince or... princess is on their way as we speak."

Snow gasps. "Oh no. I think the curse has been transferred over to them! We must return home as soon as possible and get them rested. I fear they might hurt themselves if they are unbound..."

The dwarfs pick up on their message with ease. The near dozen creatures work together to tie you by your wrists and ankles. Their sheer number and Snow's arm around your neck makes it an easier task. As more fuel to the fire, they kiss you when you are completely unable to defend yourself - giggling as thei cohorts pick you up.

"Don't worry, my love. True love's kiss will make you all better. No matter how many it takes."

[thesharktanksdriver]

Being Ghost's younger sibling (platonic)

Depending on the day I let Roach live in cannon or die since he isn’t in the 2022 game

Warning: there is mention of abuse because of simon’s backstory

Simon had a complicated relationship with his family, his blood family to be exact

He hated his father for being an abusive piece of shit, a monster instead of a man

His poor mother who took the brunt force of the abuse to try and lighten the blows for him and his brother

His brother who he had a complicated relationship with until it was mended with time

Once upon a time when Simon was younger, he had wished that they’d drop dead. Not just his father but the rest of them

It was a moment of weakness, one he had regretted even thinking of. For his father no, but for his mom and brother yes

He supposed that a fucked up wishing star granted it anyways

That day feels so vivid to him like a blur, just seeing flashes of something in his mind

What he remembers most is the red

Red that stained the corpses of his mom, Tommy, Beth and little Jospeh

When he remembers it it’s like seeing a black and white photo with only the red being in colour

That ugly colour staining them as he felt himself break

His family home, a place once filled with violence is once again stained with it

After that it’s blank, utterly blank as he assumed police and military showed up

What he remembers next is holding you while crying

A small baby swaddled in a cloth with your name etched into it

He had vaguely tempered his mom mentioning a surprise for him to see when he had the moment

You were it, the surprise his mother had been so excited to tell him of

Apparently his dad had shown up a few months back, and shoved you into her arms

His mother, being the kind woman she was took you in despite you not being her child

Tommy and Beth had been helping her raise you, Jospeh had even been excited to be a big brother (not understanding you’d be an aunt/uncle)

You were being kept a secret, they had been waiting for him to come home and meet you

It’s what had saved you that day, along with the fact his mom had put you to sleep for a small nap

It’s there in his shaking and sobbing arms that Simon meets you, his little half-sibling

Despite the fact he wants to be angry at your existence, at how your the bastard child of his dad he can’t

Your just an innocent child, you couldn’t choose your parents just like he couldn’t

And now your left with no one but him

And he’s left with only you as his remaining family

He takes you in

A broken man with no experience in this type of stuff, doing what he thinks is right cause he knows the childcare system is shit

For the first couple months and early years of your life Simon goes through a lot of trial and error

He feels afraid to ask others for help due to his paranoia of history repeating itself again

But eventually Simon is able to figure out what to do

He goes about raising you with care, something he’d only gotten from his mom. All the while fearing that he one day would become his father

He knows he never would, but it’s still a thought that plagues his mind as he puts you to bed

His once barren home is now filled with colour, a safe house with the bare necessities now decorated with memories like the sharpie ink on the doorway to show how much you’ve grown

He was never one for sappy shit but for stuff like that he goes soft, almost feeling as if parts of himself are being mended through you

Not healed per say, he doesn’t believe that anything could ever really help him process his trauma…but seeing you have a happy childhood helps him

During these first few years when he has to leave for missions he trusts you with his now retired friend Roach

Gary quickly becomes “uncle” Gary/Roach as he looks after you when he’s on duty

Ghost gets small texts from a burner phone every couple of days with a single word that has hidden meaning

A simple “good” would probably be fine but at this point Ghost is still extremely paranoid

When he gets back Gary tells him to lighten up a bit and he reluctantly does so

Ghost always feels relived after so much fighting and returning home to see you happy and running up to him (barely missing tripping over your own feet)

What surprises him though is when you call him dad after one of his returns

Even Roach doesn’t really expect it

Simon feels himself crumble at that, tears pooling in his eyes as he kneels down to hug you

He kinda just silently cries, his tears soaking up into his mask and smudging the inky black makeup around his eyes

He never forgets that moment, it’s just forever ingrained in his mind especially since he realized that you said that to him while he wore his mask

Your young child mind wasn’t afraid of him in his infamous skull mask like he had been when his brother used to terrorize him

No, you still recognized him as Simon, the man whom you thought to be your father

And that sticks with him

When you get to the age when you begin to develop interests and a more prominent personality he finds himself content

Your at an age where he can do more than just play and watch cartoons beside you

Simon 100% funds and encourages your interests whether that be drawing, sports or anything else that you find fun

Even if it’s not his thing he joins in with you or overlooks the activity, giving you encouragement and praise

He’d particularly be really engaged if you liked something more on the creative side

Since he can then hang it up on his walls in frames and it’s safe

He’d also feel really conceited since he has a small hobby of carving small wooden figurines

Which in this scenario he’d definitely show you how to make them

When you make your first one he’d definitely carry it with him on duty

A subtle reminder of you waiting home for him and that no matter the situation he has to get home

It’s also at this point in your life that he takes you places

If you mention you want to go to Disney, we’ll guess what he’s bought tickets and you guys are now taking an entire month off in California (not Florida though, he doesn’t trust that place)

He wants to make as many meaningful experiences he can for you due to the fact he’s gone so long

School is handled via online learning and private tutors due to the fact he lives far out in the country in a heavily secluded area where the rides to school would take at least a 2 hour bus drive and then some

He could move but he prefers the house to be a place that is hard to find

Due to this you don’t have many friends except for the careful few that Simon let’s know if your existence

Like Price, Laswell and of course uncle Roach

He trusts them enough to leave you with them during employment

But he especially leaves you with Kate and her wife since he thinks you need some women figures in your life

Not knowing that just having him is enough to you

He gets a small tattoo of something that he associates with you. Something like a nickname he gave you like bumblebee or blueberry

Yes his nickname’s are kinda random but their meaningful to him and have stories attached

He’d especially like if you have a nickname for him as well something like “boo” or “ghosty” since they associate with his call sign

When you transition into teenage hood that he gets assigned to 141

He realizes at this point that maybe he’s done a good job raising you until his self doubt begins to eat at him again

It happens to him in cycles as you grew up but now it hits harder when knowing you wouldn’t have a normal teenage experience because of him

You wouldn’t have a prom or parties due to his decision to live in the middle of butt fuck nowhere in the British countryside

But at the same time you’d be screwed if he sent you to school due to the fact you’d only done it online and have private teachers help you

And his mind begins a spiral which he doesn’t get your opinion on

It’s also at that point that Simon feels it’s time for you to know the truth

From this point he’d taught you about his mom, Tommy, Beth and Jospeh

But never the fact that he was your brother and not your dad

He expects you to be mad, and scream at him

A small part of him wants that to happen because he believes he deserves it

But that doesn’t happen since for a long while you knew, for months you knew

And maybe even before then

He asks why you never brought it up, why you still referred to him as dad despite knowing he wasn’t

And what you say makes him cry like the day when you initially called him dad

“Si, you may be my big brother but you’ve raised me as your own. There’s never been anyone else who’s been a father to me except you, and you’ve done a good job at it”

And like that day he found you he crumbles

And you let him cry as he hugs you, scared that if he let go for even a moment you’d disappear like sand through his fingers

Simon though he has his flaws and seems like a blank slate is someone who is made of compassion

He loves despite the fact he is afraid to be hurt once more

And when he loves someone he covets them more than his own life

Most do not know this but your the prime example of this

Because if it came down to it Simon would do anything to save you

Simon is a good brother and a great father despite what his own mind says to him

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Forgetting the end of the third part of second chance, all of it just made me feel so sad for Lucien. Someone needs to write something about Lucien being brought to Helion way younger, like as a child or something.

Look at me turning into Vanseera and Helion blog and all this time I thought I didn't have it in me. Also, I think I was supposed to make it better but I might just made it worse... upsie...

warning: blood, beating, child birth, all the warnings that come with Beron.

Live, Licien, live

The wind was so harsh. So cold. So bitter. Rarely were the nights in autumn so cold but it seemed like the world had been suffering today alongside Eris. Maybe it was his father's bitterness that followed him. Maybe it was his ever-seeing eyes, that now lashed at him for disobeying. He was supposed to be in the training hall, kicking and slashing at his other brothers. But he couldn't not after today. Not when he had watched the horrors of it for some time now.

How long can one neglect the inner voice? Shouting and clawing at you that it was all wrong. That this was not how the world worked. Couldn't be. His father had been wrong. Real power couldn't lay in the joy of making others suffer. Beg. Bleed beneath your feet. Eris had already done so many things wrong. Had given in to his father's cruel demand. Out of fear of dying himself, had bled others dry. But he never forgot their faces. He could name every single soul he sent to the other world. But this time. This time he couldn't sit still.

Eris's mother had given birth a couple of hours ago. Yet from the moment the pregnancy was announced, Eris felt that something was off. Beron valued his litter. The fighting dogs his wife provided. Eris had watched her go through childbearing multiple times and his father's hands would soften when the swell in her stomach rounded. Yet this time she was offered a cell. A bucket. Beatings. Water if she was lucky. And Eris had never been more confused. Was Beron suddenly against having more sons?

He tried to raise the question to his father. It wasn't in a pleading way, he approached it as a future high lord and yet the furry that left his father the moment Eris spoke his mother's name. The beating had been like no other. Eris hadn't even crowded out of the throne room after. Just laid there hoping that his body would heal a little and then he'll drag himself out. But that was more than enough for him. The baby growing wasn't Beron's. That was clear.

So Eris slipped into the cell as often as he could. He still couldn't properly feed his mother because someone would notice but he kept the food as nutritious as possible. Enough to keep them both alive, to help the baby grow and his mother go through labor. He had bribed the guards who had been ordered to beat her. Eris couldn't stop them fully because his father came down here almost every day to watch his wife fade away. But enough to keep the kicks and slashes away from her bump and breasts, enough to soften the blows.

Eris had pleaded for days for her to tell him the truth. Tell him who the father was so that he could hold onto something. Know why the furry in his father burned so hard. She said nothing, "Not your burden to carry", she said day after day. Until she went into labor. Way too early. Way too fast. The beating that night had done the trick. Even her body had given up on growing that innocent soul within her.

Eris had found her in a pool of blood, panting, gritting her teeth. Pleading with the gods to not let this happen. To let her keep him within her womb just a bit longer. But fate was cruel. It had laughed at his mother that night. No one came to help her. The cell doors had been locked tight the moment her screams echoed through the basement. Eris knew that this was another way of making her pay. Having her die like a rat there while bringing a bastard into this world.

Just Eris had learned parts of the house no one besides him knew off. He had dragged buckets of water there in a hurry, blankets. Did he know what he was doing? No. But his mother was there. The one source of decency. The only reason why he wasn't like his father. So at that moment, he didn't care what he had to do, he was going to fight for them if they refused to. He was going to try and save them.

Of course, his mother had tried to usher him away. Beginning to let her be in her shame. Let Mother Nature do her thing but Eris was unmoved. He crotched next to her. Pushing heaps of blankets behind her and beneath her back. "You'll get yourself killed", she sobbed, watching as he wetted the cloth to soothe the dizziness she was feeling, "Go, before his blade slashes your throat". But her words did little to inflict fear in Eris. He braced his hands on her legs, just as he had seen the healers do many times. Their eyes met and he could tell that something in his mouth had shifted.

Eris heard her scream even here. Even as he ran across the dark forest. At times the wind sounded just like her. No longer like his father. It sounded as if she was crying for her two boys. Her two sons who still had hope of keeping their hearts untarnished. Eris wished he could erase the image of her lifeless body, though. Wished he could have frozen the smile that brushed her features when Eris brought the baby closer to him, pressing his palm over his mouth, to drown out the sobs. And then in the blink of an eye, she was gone. Just a pile of broken limbs and a pool of blood. Eris had talked one more glance before he fled. Maybe they were going to assume she just died like this with the baby instead her. Just bled to death. He hoped they would. For everyone's sake.

The baby inside his arms let out a cry. A cry Eris wished he could have let out as well. Lucien. His mother had whispered the name before she went. Little Lucien. Eris only held the boy closer. Not even hours in this world and he was already fighting toughest battles. But Eris was going to make it better. He was going to save him. He could feel the baby squirming against his chest, feeling the little tears that fell onto his skin, "You'll live, you'll get to live. Live, Lucien, live", Eris muttered over and over as he rushed.

It only dawned on him how this all might look when he was standing right outside Helion's castle. The guards had pointed their weapons at him and here was Eris Vanserra, trembling like a leaf with a screaming baby in his arms, "I need to see him", he pleaded, "Let me see Helion". But no one wanted to listen and no one would have if not Helion himself had heard the commotion and the sobs.

"What's all of this", he had roared, making the guards stagger back. It's only when the red hair came into his view did he halt himself. That same color of hair Helion had kissed so many times on his lover. But it couldn't be her. There was no way for her to leave just like that. It's the panic. The smell of her. The smell of blood. That made him order everyone away as he pushed Eris through the gates.

Eris only managed to make it through into the hall before his legs bucked and he sank to the floor. "Boy, what's all of this? What's going on?", Helion demanded, yet it wasn't anything like the way Beron demanded. Helion had still left him a choice to refuse to answer. Eris didn't trust his words. Not just yet. Not after everything that happened tonight. He pulled his cloak off, pushed the side of his shirt aside, and pulled back the messily wrapped fabric.

Helion's eyes had grown big as he inhaled sharply. Eris could tell that he understood what this meant. That he hadn't expected it. But he knew what this baby was. "Yours", Eris crocked out. Letting the high lord reach out, to pull the baby out of his arms. "Mother died", those words made Helion's body shake, jaw clenching. But he only held onto the crying babe stronger, "Mother died but Lucien lives. Keep him alive Helion. Keep him alive".