#it breaks my heart to see him so wrung out

[ingravinoveritas]

hey, if you watched comic relief, did you think david looked unbearably tired? he sounded near tears at times and idt it was just bcs of the charity videos

Hi there! I'm not in the UK, so I wasn't able to see Comic Relief while it aired, or any clips until now.

I didn't notice the tiredness at first, but it definitely seemed to become more visible later in the show, as did the sounding near tears. This moment (which I got from a fan on Twitter who compiled all of David's bits) in particular really got me, as it's so apparent here...

As to what could've been causing this, I think there are several things that could have been happening, possibly even all at once. Up until I got into Good Omens/David/Michael, I wasn't at all familiar with Comic Relief, but having watched the show for a few years now, there are some really striking things I've noticed about how it's structured and what it involves.

On the one hand, you have lots of famous actors and comedians and musicians putting on a show and telling jokes...and then on the other, you have emotional videos of people in dire situations, both in the UK and abroad. And because Comic Relief is live, it's much harder to build in transitions between these two things, so you end up dramatically shifting from lighthearted to serious and back, and it leaves you with a bit of whiplash as a result.

So if those abrupt tonal shifts are difficult for us an audience, they must be even more challenging for the host(s), including David. I think the live aspect of the show makes it very similar to theater and how David might have reacted in differing moments during Macbeth, because we're seeing emotional reactions in real time, without the benefit of editing. Tonight was also the last occasion of Comic Relief that Lenny Henry was hosting after nearly 40 years at the helm, so I feel like that probably made David emotional as well, given how much he has worked with and admires him.

As for the tiredness, it seems there were at least a few interviews that David did prior to the broadcast, so he was probably running around all day trying to get everything done. Then you add to that the chaos of multiple hosts on stage and everyone trying to find their marks (which seems to have been something David was stressing out about a bit in one of the interviews today), plus the charity videos, and it's no wonder that he looked so drained.

(Another thing I also wonder is if David's demeanor had anything to do with sharing the stage with Davina McCall, who was allegedly outed as a TERF last year. Given the attacks from the anti-trans loons that David and Georgia have endured over the last several months, I can imagine that he might not be comfortable co-hosting with someone who espouses such views. And for the record, there was something about Davina that inexplicably annoyed/seemed off to me long before any of the TERF stuff came to light. It seems like my instincts have been confirmed in that regard...)

So yes, those are pretty much all of the things that came to mind regarding David's demeanor at Comic Relief. He's probably been running himself ragged lately with new projects since Macbeth ended (the Genius Game hosting gig, for one, and an appearance on the SmartTV game show, plus multiple upcoming Comic Con appearances), so hopefully he can find some time to relax and breathe in between all of this, because he more than deserves a break.

I hope this helps to answer your question. Thanks for writing in! x

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

Hiii!

I found your stories a few hours ago and they are perfect, I don't think I ever went through someone's account so fast hahah

If it's fine with you, could you do a sequel to the yandere bully story? Maybe what would happen if reader ended up too scared of his bullying and decided to change school, or had to move away due to personal reasons! What would be yandere's reaction?

Of course, it's just a request, so feel free to not do it if you don't feel like doing it!

Loving your stories, keep it up, I'm rooting for you! ❤

Yandere!Bully x Fem!Reader part 2

CW: Bullying, breaking and entering

Simon's mind went blank. It was as if the organ didn't want to process what he had just learned, so it decided to power off instead.

"Yeah, apparently she started homeschooling." The sharp nosed boy tried his best to bite back his smile. A year younger than Simon, Nicky looked up to him, aspiring to be just as (much of a bully) cool as he was. So when he overheard the office ladies sympathetically discussing Simon's favorite victim, he made sure to gather as much information as he could in order to try and impress Simon; gain his favor.

The squirrelly brunette had prepared mentally for a number of different reactions Simon could have had to the news: anger, disappointment, mild amusement.. but when he turned his eyes away from his milk box it confused him to see Simon's stare empty.

Thinking that Simon didn't care Nicky doubled down. "My sources say she was too scared to name her bullies, and that she just wanted it to end without a confrontation."

'She left because of me??' Simon squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to shut out the kid yapping beside him. When (Reader) didn't come to school Simon was, of course, worried. He thought that she might have gotten sick, or worse. The worry over not being able to see her beautiful face was eating him up, and he admittedly began lashing out at other people, really making him into the bully (Reader) thought he was. But now he was hearing that she had left the school because of him??

"It's a good thing she didn't snitch, huh?" The prideful child said in a haughty way, pleased with himself (even though Simon didn't know, or care, why).

"Why are you telling me this?" 'Can't you see how fucked up you got me right now??'

"Huh?" Startled and suddenly nervous, Nicky wrung the bottom of his hoodie in an attempt to calm his stutter. "B- I just, I thought, because you- you seemed to hate her, ya know? So I thought- I just thought you'd be interested to know.."

"Great. Now I know." Simon's voice was hard and sharp. He wanted to cry, but he sounded like he was on the verge of attacking the younger kid. "What am I supposed to do with that information?"

Heart in his throat and lip trembling, Nicky handed over his phone with the camera open. "I took a picture of her address.."

Knock knock knock!

(Reader) happily rolled off the couch and made her way to the front door. Neither of her parents were home and she had already finished all of her classwork, so the student had been relaxing while scrolling through her phone. She had only been homeschooled for a week, but was already back to her old self again. (Reader) was so stress free that she wasn't as paranoid about an unexpected visitor as she probably should have been.

She opened the front door without peaking to see who it was, and she didn't have time to process that it was Simon until he had already shoved himself inside and closed the door behind him. All of the fear and anxiety that (Reader) had finally worked through snapped back like a rubber band, physically hurting her chest.

"What- Get out!" Her shaky voice commanded.

"Shut up." Simon had planned on being comforting and sweet, rehearsing the entire trip on how to apologize and finally woo (Reader) correctly. To mend all the damage his foul personality had accidentally done. But then he was there, in her hallway, and she looked so scared of him.. "What were you thinking? Not coming to school. I thought you might've killed yourself." His attempt to show how worried he was for her only sounded like a threat as it left his lips.

(Reader) thought about her phone she left on the couch, and wondered if she could get to it before he could grab her. "Please leave me alone.." If only she could inch backwards as subtly as possible..

"Why? I came here to make sure you were okay." Simon grabbed her wrist and squeezed tightly enough for her to bite the inside of her cheek. "Come back to school."

"..No."

His grip tightened.

"I- I can't!" (Reader) struggled to break free as the tears began to pool up. "Do you know how difficult it was to get into homeschooling?? More than half way through the year?? I didn't drop out!! I couldn't go back, even if I wanted to!" Her pleas made sense, but Simon was already too heartbroken to hear them.

"Then I guess I'm going to be your new study buddy." His smile was supposed to be kind, suave. He wanted to look caring and dashing. But to (Reader) his half lidded eyes and tight smile looked like a malevolent smirk.

"What?"

"What? You thought you could run away from me? It's not like your family has enough money to just up and move whenever they want." Simon glanced around at the furniture visible from the entrance to double check that they, in fact, were not rich enough to move whenever. "And now I know where you live."

(Reader) parted her lips to talk back, but Simon quickly closed the gap between them, pulling her into his chest and kissing her painfully. He had imagined their first kiss many many times, and it was never like this. But it didn't matter if it was rushed and he pulled her in too hard and he slammed his lips against her's too forcefully. The young man wanted to beg her to never leave his side again, but instead as he turned around to leave he only left her with another warning.

"Don't even think about calling the cops. I'll be back to check up on you again later.. and if you try to run again, I'll fucking find you."

[nvuy]

oil, but the petroleum kind, not the lavender kind — wanderer

summary. the wanderer keeps breaking down, and as frustrating as he believes you to be, you’re the only person on this god forsaken planet that knows how to fix him.

notes. obligatory first post of 2.7k words is not a navigation post, and had to be scaramouche related because i’m not obsessed at all. i actually don’t like him. not one bit.

warnings. innuendos because you’re a bit weird. also not proofread, so mind your eyes.

The puppet trudged into the rundown warehouse with a sickening twist in his stomach, like a towel wrung too tight.

In his right hand was his left hand. Popped right off at the socket, and buzzing incessantly. He would kill The Doctor when he got his hands on him; why would there need to be an unnecessary bzzt! in his ear every time something in his body went wrong. Case in point, his hand was not attached to his arm.

He didn’t need a warning alarm. He could very well see the problem.

Nonetheless, he barged through the door with a permanent snarl imprinted on his lips.

Typical. You were asleep at a bench in the back, spine bent at an awkward angle with your forehead resting on your forearms. Your arms were covered in charcoal of some sort, as well as white smears from the paint bucket you decided would make a great pillow.

It reeked of oil. He noticed a black leak from beneath one of the machines. It looked old, very much so, with lots of holes for missing compartments. It screamed Fontaine, if he’d ever seen anything like it.

Impatiently, he thwacked the back of your head. “Hey.”

You shot up from the seat. There were dark imprints around your eyes from where you’d been wearing the safety glasses over your head.

You blinked blearily at him. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he repeated. “I need your supposed ‘expertise.’”

“What sort of time do you call this?” you scolded.

“Five in the afternoon.” And he was right. Oops. You swore you’d fallen asleep last night, too. You swivelled around in the chair to face the clock ticking on the wall. It was a good few minutes behind the actual time, but yep. Three past five.

Then, you stood up. “I’ve been sleeping for twelve hours?!” You shoved the chair out of the way and bounded for the giant machine. “Gods!” You vaguely remember setting an alarm. You had no idea what you were doing, rubbing at your eyes and blinking the sleep from them.

You hit the machine with the side of your fist.

“You can cry later.” He tossed his hand at you and you barely caught it. “My ears need fixing as well.” For good measure, there was another vibrating buzz deep inside his head, and he jolted.

“Do you want your hair done, too?”

He almost hissed at you.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” You sighed, still staring sadly at the machine. “You know the drill. On the bench.”

So, he got on the bench. The same as what he'd done for centuries with another man. It was different now with you; he’d insisted the pain you inflicted, as unintentional as it was, didn’t hurt in the slightest because he’d experienced much worse, but you’d paused every time. With a grimace too, like you were worried about his state. It was never anything worth mentioning anyway.

He wasn’t a frequent customer, per say. Frankly, not many people that came in claimed they were sentient puppets anyway. You’d believed him, as absurd as the claim was. And you’d poked at the indentation on the nape of his neck.

But, he’d visited more often than he’d like to admit. More often than not because he was breaking down without constant maintenance—and no, it wasn’t because he was old—to the extent that it frustrated him. Limbs popping off if too much pressure was applied, especially now with his newfound Vision attached to his heart.

He hated to admit your company was tolerable, even if all you did was blabber about machines. You’d taken a rather strange interest in him, it seemed, though. Not that he minded. He liked to be doted upon.

“Are you finally gonna let me–”

“No.” There it was. The pathetic begging to crack him open and watch how he worked. Every time, without failure, like a broken record spinning the same loop on repeat.

You pouted. “But I do things for you.”

“Fix my hand,” he practically demanded. He felt you reach over his legs when he straightened them out on the bench. Then, there was the sound of a buckle, and his right ankle was ensnared on the table. “What are you doing?”

“You squirmed too much last time,” you explained, tightening the buckle around his left ankle.

“You’re not exactly gentle.” He made no effort to fight you. “And this treatment is barbaric.”

You tested the restraints. “Whatever. My warehouse, my rules.”

“You’re filthy, by the way,” he said. You smelled like oil, so strongly he was convinced you’d doused it on yourself like a fragrance. Usually, you liked to combine a mixture of lavender and coconut. When you were clean, of course. You tied his right arm down to the bench. “You should shower.”

“I would, but there’s a dog barking at me on my workbench.”

He almost turned his head to bite your arm.

Nonetheless, his hand was an easy fix. He’d probably be able to do it himself, in all honesty, but it gave him an excuse to escape Lesser Lord Kusanali’s never ending ramblings and such. Not to mention he could visit you, as pathetic as it sounded.

The limb reattached with a pop that made him tense immediately. Other than that, he wriggled his fingers experimentally, and they worked just fine.

His ears were the worst. Not only did they require constant maintenance, but aforementioned 'constant maintenance' needed patience. Patience that you, nor him, had.

And because of that, it was hurting him. He tried not to let it show, not that you couldn’t tell, but there was simply no other way to do it. His ears were tricky technology because he didn’t have standard human anatomy, or anything that was a poor imitation of it. No cochlea, no eardrum, no nothing, so permanent hearing damage wasn’t too much of an issue.

In the absolute worst case scenario, if you completely destroyed whatever it was that allowed him to hear, you were sure you could make something. You were crafty like that. It also sounded fun. (And gave you the excuse to bury your hands in his chest and see what he was made of).

His ear buzzed and he jolted.

You frowned, the scaler tool wedged deep inside his ear canal. “Stop moving.” Your fingers pressed to his temples to steady his squirming.

“I’m not trying to.” Another buzz. “Ow, you wretch! Get off me!”

You held his head still. “Yeah, yeah, you big baby. I’m almost done.”

His fingers curled into his fists and he shut his eyes as tight as he could when you readjusted his head to his side.

The pain wasn’t even the worst part of it. It was just uncomfortable. He’d rather just cut off his ears and be finished with it.

Another bzzt and he grunted. There was a pained and wobbly line coating his lips. His eyes glossed over.

You tried to ignore how he was practically trying to curl up into himself and shift away from the tools. You needed a pair of suture scissors in his ear as well, and he almost broke free of his restraints when he felt more pressure.

“I think I–”

“Finish this,” he said dully, voice embarrassingly shaky.

“I can’t.” You pulled the tools slowly from his ear. “It’s not your ear. There’s nothing wrong with it.”

The buzzing was astoundingly miserable, and there was now a sharp ache to accompany it. “Well, then what is it, genius?”

“Something’s up with whatever controls your hearing. And no, it’s not your ears. There’s literally nothing in there.” You traced his earlobe soothingly, still thoughtful. “Did you fall?”

He did. A very very large fall, might he add, but he wasn’t going to tell you that. “Never mind that. You can’t fix my ear?” For a laugh, it buzzed again.

“I can, but–”

“Absolutely not.”

“Okay, well, if you don’t want me to help you, then get out of my warehouse.”

The puppet bristled like a cactus. “I stated, very clearly, might I add, that my ear and my hand needed fixing. There is no reason for you to pull me apart.”

There was a scowl etched onto his face.

“Clearly it’s more than just an ear problem, old man.” You poked at his chest teasingly. “I’ll charge you less if you let me pull you open.”

“No. And you’ve never charged me regardless.”

“Negative number charge.” You tapped your cheek. “You can pay me with a kiss.”

“I will leave,” he threatened. He felt heat creep into his chest.

“Not if I keep you here.” You leaned over the workbench to retrieve your toolbox. “C’mon. I’ll be quick. And I’ll fix your ear. It’s a win-win situation.”

He jolted when his ear buzzed once more. It was like torture choosing between a constant involuntary and painful twitch and your hands below his skin.

They both sounded like terrible outcomes, though one was slightly more feasible than the other.

“Fine. Be quick.”

You gasped, eyes sparkling. “Really?!” Alarm bells rang in his head when you raised a hammer over his torso. “You got it.”

“I have buttons,” he forced out swiftly. “Put the hammer down.”

You practically threw the hammer somewhere else. It clattered on the ground with a loud clang, making his ears buzz. He writhed for a moment, and his teeth gritted at the incessant stiffening pain in his joints.

The restraints were growing difficult to bear. The cloying scent of freedom just out of reach was overwhelming.

“Where are they?”

If his wrists weren’t tied down to the table, he would’ve flailed unintentionally and caught you right in the stomach. “Hips.”

You whistled lowly. “Nice.”

He shot you the most withering glare he could muster whilst his left eyelid began to twitch.

You managed to get the waistband of his pants down just enough to see two large markings on either side of the roundest part of his hips. The waistband sat dangerously low, and he tried to control the twitching, though that didn’t seem to help.

Experimentally, your fingers grazed the deep purple markings. There was a shock that raced up your fingers; a warning not to try anything stupid.

The longer you pressed your fingers, the purple rose higher and higher towards his torso.

There, the electro-like veins and circuits formed a square that covered the expanse of his stomach to the tip of his ribs.

There was a hiss, and then the square sank into his torso.

He grunted at the vulnerability.

His skin gave way and slid below another portion of his hip, completely out of sight.

You stared down into him for a moment.

He wanted you dead. “What?”

“You’re beautiful,” you whispered, more to yourself than anything.

His thigh twitched; whether it was him trying to remove himself from his confines, or if the surging Anemo was seeping down to his legs was a question that he couldn’t even answer.

He wanted to bark, or retaliate, or harp on about how weird you were, but he refrained. You were here to help, as strange as it was.

Instead, he murmured, “hurry up.”

“I’m serious.” You reached over and prodded a circuit running in a loop along his spine. “Whoever created you sure took their sweet time.”

“Enough.” He tried to sound as menacing as he could from his position. “Just finish this.”

So, you began, playing with an assortment of tools and wires to see what made him jolt.

Just as he’d so proudly proclaimed many times before, his mechanics and anatomy were beyond your understanding. From your own personal experience, robotic puppets would be absolutely filled with machinery and crossbeams and devices of all sorts, with barely any wriggle room for experimentation.

The puppet on the table was filled with almost nothing. There were a few core pieces, one of which you recognised as actuators stuck to the internal joints of his limbs.

As you poked and prodded, the puppet tried his very best to remain still. He’d been opened before, countless times actually, but with the intention of pain. Hurt, as a price to pay for power. Gloved fingers would yank and pull and shock until whatever was beneath his skull melted behind his eyes.

You were simply and innocently curious. Albeit a bit wobbly and unsure with your fingers.

“No clue what I’m looking at.” You nudged at a weird metallic square with purple script where a stomach would be. “This one looks important, though.” You then knocked on it, and his ear buzzed in tune with your knuckles. Found it. There were two wires from the square that crept up suspiciously close towards his ears.

As you worked, his hearing faded in and out. You’d asked him questions throughout, even having to wave a hand in his face when you noticed he was completely unaware that you’d spoken at all.

It wasn’t as jarring as he would’ve thought it’d be; although, there was an aching disappointment in his chest when your voice didn’t come through in his head properly.

His hearing eventually came to properly. He could feel the tugging and harsh pulling of the circuitry and wires controlling his ears, but the buzzing eventually subsided. Relief was light on his shoulders when he could finally sit still for longer than five seconds.

But even though his ears were fixed, and he clearly wasn’t twitching anymore, you’d barely moved from your spot with feeling hands.

He sighed. “You’re taking a long time considering how much you prattle on about your ‘inventive genius.’”

“I’m having my fun.” Experimentally, you pulled at one of the actuators, and his right index finger twitched involuntarily in response. “You’re a work of art.”

“Whatever comes out of your mouth never fails in making me want to shrivel into a ball and die. Did you know that?”

You tugged at another mysterious wire and his shoulder jolted violently. You were smiling, knocking his rib cage softly. “This is so cool.”

You whistled a tune while you tended to him. More yanks of things you didn’t understand like some sort of toddler on your end, but he figured if it made you happy and satiated that never ending curiosity, he’d let it slip through his fingers.

Just this once.

Patience was not his forte, however, because soon enough, the uncomfortable persistence of hands where there shouldn’t be was weighing heavy on his chest like an anvil.

He grunted. “Are you finished groping me?”

“I could do this forever, I think.” There was that stupid smile still printed onto your lips. “I’d love to pull you to pieces and see what happens.”

“A strange proclamation that I won’t let happen, unless you don’t want to keep your hands.” The restraints were like lead wrapped around his limbs. “Stop drooling over me and hurry up.”

You sighed, disappointed. “Yes, princess.” You closed up the hearing compartment, making sure you hadn’t ruined anything else before allowing the exterior skin to slide back over the hole in his torso. “I’m finished.”

He was disgusted by the appalling nickname.

But, you seemed pleased.

He was proud of himself for it, and secretly pocketed the pride. However, the scowl remained on his face.

“So…” You moved to unbuckle the restraints. “Where’s my ‘thank you?’”

“Shouldn’t I be receiving one for being so generous?” When you froze with the restraints, a reminder of who was at a disadvantage here, he let out an exasperated sigh, before mumbling, “thank you.”

“Mm-hm. You’re welcome.” You leaned over the table. “And where’s my kiss?”

“You’re an insufferable rodent and I should squash you beneath my heel,” he threatened through his teeth.

You remained frustratingly unperturbed. “One kiss or you can stay on the table.”

“I will spit in your face.”

“Fine.” You unbuckled the restraints. “You’re missing out.”

“I’m sure I am.”

You blew a raspberry at him before you dusted off your hands. You really needed a shower, actually, but the broken machine sitting in all its glory with a pungent oil leak was staring at you with big bug eyes.

You kicked it in retaliation.

While you moped, the puppet struggled with an inner turmoil. He was still standing by the table, testing out his hand—not that he really needed to, actually. You’d helped him many times before, all with precision. You’d never let him leave with a problem.

And that was the thing.

He felt he did have a problem, and his skin felt like it was alight.

His hand was fine, and the incessant buzzing in his ear had finally ceased.

He heard you flop back down into the swivel chair for a moment, hands in your hair as you moved around the circumference of the base, trying to eye where the leak was coming from.

He turned with a spout of quickly dying determination.

A tweak of one of the bolts in the machine had a spring of black petroleum target your face and thoroughly drenched you.

You looked like a sad, wet cat.

He was heating up, and his mind wandered elsewhere.

“Hey.”

You turned around defeatedly in the now wet swivel seat, clicking a pen you’d just found absentmindedly. “Yep.”

His lips pressed to your own.

When you tried to lean forward closer to him, tried anything, to pull him onto the chair with you, or let your fingers creep towards his hips, he shoved you back into the chair and left.

In absolutely no world would he let you witness the bright blue beneath his skin flickering to life with heat all over.

You tasted like oil. There was a black smear across his lips that he frantically fought rubbing off all the way back to the city.

[whitedarkmoonflower]

The promise

Pairing: Sihtric x reader (female) Authors note: am I back on my angst track? yeah, probably so and I love it. Sorry 😅 Warnings: angst, hurt with very little comfort, implied sexual abuse, attempted suicide - yes it has a happy ending 😉 Summary: for his own good you wrung a promise from Sihtric that left your both hearts bleeding Word Count: 3,8 K

"Come with me, and I'll show you the world," the wind whispered, playfully tousling your hair. You reached out as if trying to grasp the warm air swirling around you. Mischievous, it only chuckled at your futile attempt, echoing the birds' songs heralding the dawn of a new day. It tangled in the tattered remnants of your dress, gathering fallen leaves from the ground and whisking them into a wild dance before carrying them away, allowing them to cascade onto the jagged rocks below the cliff.

"I can't fly," you murmured, tilting your head and marveling at the way your fingers shimmered in the light of the rising sun. Your slender, weathered hand, adorned with blisters and scratches, suddenly appeared fragile and exquisite, almost translucent and aglow in the gentle blue and orange hues of the early sunlight.

"Don't worry, I'll catch you," the playful breeze assured, its caress gentle against your cheeks, almost imperceptible in its fleeting softness. It stirred a memory, a distant echo of tender touches long forgotten, as if they'd never existed.

You flinched at the sound of small stones loosening, merrily cascading down into the abyss, while you adjusted your weight and shuffled your bare, dirt-stained feet, as you leaned  against the rough logs of the fortress's sturdy outer wall.

"Can I trust you?" you wondered, eyes wide open, captivated by the soft hues painting the horizon.

"I'll lead you to him. Just one more step, and you'll be free," the wind enticed, its gentle laughter fading into the distance.

A silent exhale escaped your lips, swallowed by the hushed whisper of the wind. "Wait for me. I'm coming with you."

You had faithfully kept your promise, day after day, mustering the strength to carry on. Day after day of  waning hope, hope that never truly had the right to exist. Had he kept his promise? A single tear traced its path down your cheek, leaving a salty trail in its wake. Yes, he had. And that’s why you were here now, determined to finally break yours.

"Please, let me see it," rough yet gentle fingers cradled your chin, lifting your head as they carefully swept back the strands of hair obscuring your face. 

He was too close, his breath lingering heavily upon your skin, the scent of ale from his lips wafting to your nostrils. You loved the warmth of his body, a stark contrast to your perpetually cold hands. You loved his arms enveloping your shoulders, drawing you close in an embrace, an unfailing source of comfort for you. You lived for that shy smile of his mismatched eyes, as he affectionately tucked a stray strand of your hair behind your ear or brushed imaginary dirt from your cheeks, too timid to touch you otherwise. 

The first time he had dared to kiss you, your breaths mingling as his lips weightlessly hovered over yours, made your heart skip a beat. But not today.

You struggled to maintain shallow breaths, attempting to alleviate the dull ache that persisted each time your lungs expanded, stretching your ribs. With eyes tightly shut, the grinding sound of your gritted teeth echoing in your ears, you sensed his fingers trembling ever so slightly as they delicately traversed the purple and blue marks around your eyes, and traced the red lines etched across your cheeks, halting at the corner of your mouth. His thumb's touch, as he sought to remove dried blood, elicited a wince, the sharp sting from the pressure on your swollen lip for a short moment overshadowing the ache in your ribs.

You had refused to cry. Not when the weighty ringed hand struck your face, sending you sprawling. Not when the coarse fingers, like iron claws, tangled in your hair and forcefully yanked your head back, the repugnant stench from the rotten, yellow-toothed mouth assaulting your senses. Not when… 

No, you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing you broken. Your body could bear the bruises, your body might be his, your soul and mind remained your own.

It was only later that you realised it wasn't your brokenness he had sought. It wasn't your tears he had yearned to extract.

You didn’t want to cry now either, but the tears betrayed you, burning in the corners of your eyes despite all your efforts.

"Did he do that to you?" It sounded like a question, but both of you knew the answer all too well. The pounding of your heart intensified with each passing moment. You tried to calm it, to quiet its thunderous beats, but it refused to heed your silent pleas, transforming into a tumultuous roar of war drums in your ears.

You trembled, the sensation starting deep within, a subtle quiver that steadily expanded, wresting control of your body from your grasp.

"It's my fault," a whisper reached your ears, and you snapped your eyes open, Sihtric’s  trembling voice cutting through the deafening thud of your heart.

You wanted to speak, but the words got caught in your throat, only a loud sob managing to escape through gritted teeth as you took a step back. The rough surface of the stable wall brushed against your skin through the thin layer of your ragged clothes, denying you an escape. 

You had always found solace in the scent of fresh straw, the rhythmic snorts of the animals, and the comforting warmth emanating from their bodies. This was your hidden refuge, where you sought shelter night after night. It was here that Sihtric had found you, his gaze almost passing over you until the traitorous moon slipped out from behind the clouds, revealing your presence as you held your breath in the farthest corner.

Your own weight suddenly unbearable, you sank to the ground, leaning against the wall, arms wrapped tightly around your knees as you buried your face.

"Go away," you demanded, your breath catching in your chest. You attempted to sound resolute, even angry, but the tremor in your voice betrayed you. "Please, just leave me alone," your voice cracked, morphing into a soft, pleading sob.

Sihtric’s arms hung awkwardly by his sides, his entire body tense, his fists clenched and unclenched with anger, his gaze caressing your crouched and trembling form on the ground, unsure whether he could approach you, whether he could touch you.

He had tried to protect you, to care for you, quietly and unobtrusively. Yet, in doing so, he had unwittingly become your doom. 

The sight of you shattered his heart, again. He hadn’t realised it could be broken more than once. He had believed it dead, burned by the flames that had greedily consumed the pyre, erasing the last remnants of the only person who had ever shown him kindness and love.

He had believed himself incapable of love, of caring for another, of feeling anything beyond the all consuming hatred, anger and thirst for revenge. That was all before he had met you. 

There was something in your eyes as you glanced up at him, your dishevelled hair cascading loosely over your shoulders and falling across your smudged face, as you were towed in a line of new slaves behind the sturdy black stallion carrying Tekil.

Your hands were bound, your clothes half-torn and soiled, your bare feet stumbling as you made your way forward. He felt the urge to turn away, to hasten down from the ramparts to attend to his new master. The horse needed care, the weapons required cleaning.

You looked up, and your gazes met fleetingly, like a wounded deer gazing in terror at the encroaching predator.

But there was more than fear and despair in those deep, wide eyes. A hint of defiance mingled with resilience and a spark of life. There was such a strong will to live, a resolve to survive in those large, tearful eyes that seemed to bore into his mind, glimpsing into his very soul.

He knew the life awaiting you would shatter that resolve, break you, erase even the faintest trace of your own will, wrapping you in suffering and self-loathing like a glove wraps the hand. And he couldn't bear the thought of it. He couldn’t bear that there was nothing he could do about it. Or could he?

You lingered too long, gazing at the young boy on the upper ramparts. The sudden tug on the rope fastened to you caught you off guard, causing you to lose your balance and emit a cry of pain as your knees collided with the hard ground.

Sihtric’s hands instinctively clasped Thor's hammer around his neck, his lips forming silent words of an unspoken promise, a vow, to not let that happen, to not let that spark be wiped off. Not letting go of the pendant, he prayed to the gods for the day he could  whisk you away from this accursed place and witness a smile lighting up those beautiful eyes.

From that day forward, his seemingly futile existence had acquired a new purpose. A hesitant smile exchanged in the hallways, a warm, compassionate glance shared in the great hall, a hand that didn’t take a swing, but stretched out to help you back on your feet, that was all he dared to offer at first. 

He saw your red, swollen eyes, your diminishing frame with each passing week, the trembling of your hands as you served ale, and the deepening darkness in your gaze. It was not enough. He knew he was miserably failing to uphold the promise he had made to himself and to the gods.

The feast in the great hall of Dunholm was in full swing. Laughter filled the room, mingling with drunken revelry, boasting of recent victories and tales of triumphs. Sihtric sat at the long table on the left, squeezed between Tekil’s men. It was his first time being permitted to join them there.

Tekil wasn't a cruel man; he was a steely, battle hardened warrior, yes, but not one who reveled in the suffering of others. He had taken Sihtric in after the execution of his mother. He had vouched for him before Kjartan, pledging to mould him into a warrior. And there Sihtric sat in his father's great hall, striving to remain unnoticed, to hide himself behind the sturdy frames of the other warriors, his fingers wrapped around the ale mug, yet hesitating to lift it to his lips.

You were in the midst of serving ale, shuddering each time a rough palm landed on your buttocks, laughter echoing through the hall as you refilled mugs and set pitchers on the tables. Sihtric's eyes tracked your movements between the tables, hastily averting his gaze each time you seemingly turned his way. As you approached his table, a sudden warmth flooded Sihtric's cheeks, his heartbeat quickening.

"I see you've taken a liking to this little bird," Sihtric nearly jumped from his seat, hearing that all too familiar voice in his ear, a heavy hand landing on his shoulder. "She's far too bony for my taste; you can have her," a sly smile curved Kjartan's lips as he turned to wrap his arm around your waist, pulling you roughly closer with one swift motion.

A soft yelp trembled on your lips, causing Kjartan's smile to widen into a grin. "Come on, boy. Saddle this mare, show me you're a man. Tekil promised he'd shape you into one."

With a forceful shove from Kjartan, you stumbled into Sihtric's lap, the laughter from all sides echoing through the air, assaulting your ears. Two strong arms encircled your waist and effortlessly lifted you. Desperate to break free, you attempted to wriggle out of the grip, but the jovial laughter in the hall only grew louder as you were hoisted over a broad shoulder and carried away.

Sihtric slammed shut the door of his tiny, windowless room, setting you down on your feet. You retreated instantly and your back collided with the solid door, eyes fixed on Sihtric, unable to quell the shaking of your limbs. By now, you knew he was Kjartan’s son—a bastard, yet his own flesh and blood, surely eager to please his father and earn his recognition.

"Please," it was barely a whisper, a silent breath trembling on your lips, your voice caught in your dried-up throat as you lowered your gaze, unwilling to appear as though you were challenging him. "Don't hurt me."

You understood your plea was likely in vain, that he didn't care. But there was nothing else you could do, so you begged, hoping to strike some hidden chord behind those large, oddly mismatched eyes that had followed you so many times.

You had thought them kind, seeking solace in them amidst the crowded hall, grounding yourself in the warmth of their gaze, clinging to the hope of having found a soul not tainted by malevolence, perhaps even a friendly one to guide you through your misery.

It had all been an illusion—a dream twisted into a nightmare, as you felt Sihtric’s rapid breath on your neck, his well built frame looming over you. "Please," you repeated, your voice trembling uncontrollably, words dissolving into soft sobs as your hands panickedly crumpled your skirt.

The terror in your voice sent a shiver down Sihtric’s spine. You saw him as the enemy. You thought him like his father—someone who relished in the suffering of others, ready to assert dominance through force for his own amusement. And he couldn’t blame you for that.  As much as he cursed the legacy running through his veins, he was who he was. His father’s son. Shame burning him from within, like that pyre fire, erasing his sweetest memories, he reached out to place his hands on your shoulders. 

"I won't hurt you. Do you hear me?" But you didn't. Panic had engulfed you entirely, the rush of blood in your ears deafening, the frantic pounding of your heart pushing you to the brink of consciousness, your senses sharpened to a painful clarity.

This was the moment the other women had warned you about, the moment they had tried to prepare you for. "Don't resist; it will only make it worse," they had told you. 

"Don't resist," their  warning echoed in your mind. But you couldn't. The moment two rough palms landed on your shoulders, you screamed, tears streaming down your cheeks as you fought in fury against them, your cries ringing through the room.

Sihtric released you instantly, hastily stepping back with his hands raised in the air, trying to show he meant no harm.

"Please, just listen to me," he pleaded, but you were too consumed by fear to register his words. Your eyes darted around the room, searching desperately for an escape, but finding none, they settled back on Sihtric. Meeting his gaze, you bared your teeth like a wild animal, your breaths coming in rapid, shallow gasps, as if preparing for a leap.

"I won't touch you," Sihtric's soft voice gently washed over your alerted senses. Why would he say that? What kind of trap was this? Thoughts fluttered through your mind like startled birds. "I… I'm not like my father. I mean you no harm, I swear," Sihtric took another step back, giving you space.

"W-what do you mean?" you stuttered, pressing yourself even harder against the door as if trying to meld with it.

"You are safe with me, I promise," Sihtric's eyes searched your face expectantly, hoping for some sign that you might consider believing him.

And oddly enough you did. Against reason, against everything you had been told and warned about, you believed him. You wanted to believe him; you had nothing left in this world to believe in, and so you chose to believe in the young man standing before you, in that warm, friendly, and inexplicably sad fire burning in his eyes.

You placed your small, cold hand in his outstretched palm, slowly and carefully, holding your breath in anticipation, your heart pounding against the cage of your ribs. He took a step closer, leaning in until his forehead touched yours.

"Please, don't be afraid of me," he whispered, his arms tentatively finding their way around your shoulders, as if afraid you would push them away again. But you didn't. You allowed yourself to melt into his strong embrace, burying your nose in Sihtric's broad chest as tears of relief soaked his leather armour.

"Stupid boy, you didn’t even hump her," Kjartan's words struck Sihtric like a bolt of lightning from a clear sky. "The bitch was still a virgin."

Sihtric's legs turned into heavy logs, a desperate urge to flee coursing through him, yet he remained rooted to the spot under his father's scrutinising gaze. "Maybe I was mistaken and you didn't even fancy her?" Kjartan continued with a grin. "Tell me, scum, do you prefer boys instead?"

Not a muscle twitched in Sihtric's face as Kjartan's hand rested heavily on his shoulder. "No, I was right. You desire her, you crave her," his hot breath in Sihtric's ear seared him. 

"You should have heard her. A feisty little thing, squealing like a pig. You know I enjoy it when they resist. It makes it much more enjoyable," Kjartan patted him consolingly on the shoulder, a wicked smirk forming on his lips, then turned to leave. "Tekil has a task, and he's taking you with him. You're departing at dawn tomorrow. Now, go fetch your little bird and enjoy her before it's too late."

It had all been in vain. Those hidden lingering glances, those fleeting touches, those stolen kisses in the secluded corners of the kitchen away from prying eyes—they all amounted to nothing. He had failed to protect you, to shield you from harm. Instead, he had inadvertently brought about your downfall, as he hadn’t managed to hide how much you mattered to him.

"Go away," you cried out once more, lifting your head to meet his gaze. The pain in his large, searching eyes squeezed your racing heart, prompting you to quickly look away. You didn't blame him; he was the sole reason your existence in this place had felt somewhat bearable. But it was all too much. Your own pain was enough, and you couldn't bear to add his to the burden.

"I can't," a throaty whisper escaped his lips as he lowered himself to the ground, aligning his height with yours, and gently crouched by your side. You shuddered at the touch of his arms around your trembling frame, yet you couldn't muster the strength to push him away.

You sat in the moonlight, surrounded by eerie shadows that danced around you each time an impish cloud attempted to obscure the large, pale disc in the dark sky. No words were needed; the enveloping silence spoke volumes, conveying more than any sound ever could.

"I'm leaving tomorrow at dawn," Sihtric's hoarse voice seemed to come from another world, and you heart stopped beating. The darkness crept from the corners, slowly enveloping you, draining the remaining colours from your life. "Tekil is taking me with him. It’s going to be a long trip, not just an ordinary patrol."

Turning your head, you reached out and cupped his face, your thumb gliding over his wet cheeks as Sihtric leaned into your touch.

"Promise me something," you whispered, summoning strength you didn't know you possessed.

"I will come back to you, I swear. I'll return, and one day I'll take you away from here," Sihtric's hand found yours, pulling your palm to his lips where he placed tender kisses upon your wrist.

"No," you vehemently shook your head. "No, this is your chance, Sihtric. Promise me you will not return. Promise me you'll do everything in your power to escape, to leave this cursed place behind and never look back. Promise me," your voice grew louder, your eyes searching his. "Promise me!" you demanded, desperation creeping into your tone.

"What? I... I can't... Don't you see it? Don't you feel it? I love you. Do you understand what you're asking of me?"

"I know. And God is my witness, I love you too. But if you love me, you'll promise me this. And you'll keep that promise, Sihtric Kjartansson. Knowing that you have a chance for a new life away from this hell on earth is the only thing that will keep me alive," your voice quivered with excitement.

Will he miss me? Will he remember me? You bit down on your tongue, forbidding yourself from voicing these questions that swirled in your mind. You had to let go. You had to set him free. This was the only way, the only chance, at least for one of you.

"Promise me," you insisted, your gaze locked with Sihtric's, glowing with a hint of madness.

"I'll give you that promise, if you swear to keep waiting. If you swear to not give up on this life," Sihtric's fingers squeezed yours painfully.

"I promise to keep waiting for you never coming back," you pledged without a moment's hesitation. "I promise to carry on, to endure. For you."

"I promise," Sihtric's voice broke as he tried to speak the next words, but your expectant, feverish gaze compelled him to continue. "Then I promise not to come back."

"Swear it," you demanded, wrapping his fingers around the pendant on his neck.

"I swear," it was barely a whisper, just a silent breath, escaping his lips as he gave the oath that was breaking his heart. He pulled you into his embrace, lips nuzzling your hair, inhaling your scent and feeling your soft skin under his fingertips, as he tried to store it all in his memory forever, not feeling ashamed for the tears trailing down his cheeks and disappearing into your dishevelled hair.

Weird sounds emanating from within the fortress drew your attention away from your memories—men shouting and hounds howling. You covered your ears with both hands, attempting to stifle the daunting sounds. It wasn't the first time Kjartan entertained himself by setting his hellhounds on some poor soul who had earned his wrath.

It was time. You were ready. Straightening yourself, you parted from the rough, grounding wall behind your back.

"One step, just one more step into freedom," you whispered to yourself, closing your eyes.

You shuddered upon hearing your name being called, the sound reaching you from the other side of the wall, oddly familiar. No, it couldn't be. You shook your head in an attempt to dispel the illusion your mind was conjuring to confuse you.

With eyes closed, you raised your foot for your last step, feeling the ground disappearing from beneath you, ready to fly away, to trust the alluring promise of the wind you knew to be insidious.

You cried out in despair as you felt two strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you back. Eyes still shut, you fought against them, believing Kjartan’s men had found you, until a soft voice from your dreams spoke your name again, causing you to finally open your eyes wide with disbelief and fear as if seeing a ghost.

“Why did you break your promise?” was all you managed to whisper.

“To prevent you from breaking yours,” two mismatched eyes sadly smiled at you. “Kjartan is dead. You are free.”

Tags: @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @hb8301 @zillahvathek @alexagirlie @gemini-mama @verenahx @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @willowbrookesblog @thenameswinter99 @ellabellabus07 @mcbuckyyyy @kirtseinw @siimonesvensson @sigtryggrswifey

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Weird kid AU has my entire heart! It’s so refreshing to read a story where reader is willing to take time and space for their own wellbeing. There is love between the characters but reader isn’t just sitting around waiting for Bruce to see them, thank you so much for writing!

This isn't an ask but I'm gonna treat it like one. Because I can see this in my brain.

Clark had never slept with someone else in his bed. And it was too narrow for him almost. But with another body- he'd been well. Not uncomfortable but it was strange.

Even if it felt nice, having you against his chest. Maybe it was the circumstances. He felt guilty. You'd been upset. Bruce called- well. Alfred had while you were on a sort of date? In Metropolis.

And Bruce was in the background, sniping. It had hurt. The things Bruce had said were- well. Designed to cut to the quick. And they had. And it had all boiled over into a flood of tears. Bruce had known EXACTLY where to jam the knife. And he hadn't really known what to do. Except hold you.

The holding had become kissing. The kissing had become- well more. And before he could think, hands were intertwined and he was murmuring in your ear to stop him if he hurt you.

There wasn't much talking. He found out quickly that he didn't need it. You were vocal in other ways- easy to read. And he reveled in it. In the stamina you had. But when you finally were worn out. Wrung out emotionally and physically, guilt gnawed at him.

But when you started to wake up, rubbing your eyes, he couldn't help but smile as he stroked your back, "Good morning, Sunshine, feel okay?"

"Not ready to get up yet," you murmur, "But I can go if-"

"I was hoping you'd stay for breakfast- or at least coffee," he said, tilting your chin up to kiss your nose.

"I know you didn't mean for me to stay last night I just don't want to take up too much time."

He shook his head and rubbed his nose against yours, "As long as the world doesn't end and no major news breaks, I got all day. It wouldn't be very polite for me to just throw you out after we- well. Last night- that was- that was nice." His cheeks burned and he smiled a little. "You sure I didn't hurt you?"

"Not in any way you can't kiss all better," you tease, carding your fingers through his hair.

"How-" He breaks off and lets that sink in. Getting the message when you quik an eyebrow and your eyes glitter. "I- oh. Oh!" And when his groin throbbed in response he shifted on the bed. Enjoying the way your heart rate sped up as you found yourself 'trapped' under him. He's not had a lot of practice but, there's no time like the present. "Let's make it all better, huh? Then I'll make you some coffee. And if you say please I'll make pancakes too."

[gatorbites-imagines]

bro you’re. you’re so cracked. for months bro i’ve looked at you in shock and awe, i could never keep up the way you can man. huge respect for you.

i know you posted it sunday, i saw it when it still had 5 kudos, and i was going to say something but then i got a little shy. my extraverted-ness immediately leaves when i get online. but i am begging you (respectfully) for more of the Jolly n Ghost knifeplay fic. that was fucking fantastic dude. on your A+ game per usual. it’s absolutely fine if you don’t get around to it, no worries.

Simon “Ghost” Riley x male reader

Part 2 to the knifeplay prompt

Headcanons

Hehe im glad you liked my first part to this, you’re making me blush with the compliments. isn’t any blood n stuff in this but I hope you still enjoy :)

-          After that night in the practice room, Ghost and you had gotten closer. What you had didn’t have a label, but everyone could tell you both had come to some type of agreement, and it was making you two tolerate one another, even enjoy the others company.

-          No one knows what happened, but there ended up being multiple rumours about what two of the teams best and bloodiest soldiers could have gotten up to, especially after the bloody mats were found.

-          You had done your best to clean the mats, but there was only so much you could do, especially since you and Ghost had been so busy humping like rabbits and the blood had dried when you were done.

-          The time you spent together outside of missions and duties was like the first night for the most part, dangerous, hot, and bloody. Neither of you ever went without a few cuts or bruises, your late-night sparring regularly ending with one of you on all fours as the other held the first down by the back of their neck and went to town.

-          That didn’t mean there weren’t short moments of softness, where after you had both been wrung dry of all you had where Ghost and you would lay side by side, even cuddling at times. There were times where Ghost would turn to you and kiss you so softly and carefully, as if you were made of glass and would break if he went any rougher.

-          It always made something unfurl like a flower in your chest, basking in his careful touches as he revealed some tiny vulnerable part of him.

 -          Ghost had been called away on a mission with the main folk, meaning Soap, Gaz and Price, leaving you behind on base with the rookies and alike.

-          You knew they could take care of themselves, so you just went about your business, training rookies and helping out where you were needed. Staying close to your callsign you never let the grin drop from your lips, your mood always high and bubbly, though this did not make you weak, many of the other people on base could say this from experience.

-          You were in a great mood when the team returned, and as you went to go welcome them back a ruckus caught you attention as they landed. Soap was out first, Price quickly following after, the two of them lugging somebodies limp, bloody body.

-          You heart gave a lurch as you recognized that body, it was Ghost. The grin you knew was on your lips tightened as panic filled your being, his hands tightening into fists by your side as medics quickly arrived and carted your partner? Away.

-          The other three made their way to the medbay, all looking like they had been dragged to hell and back as they stumbled past you, though they were all standing and conscious, which could not be said about Ghost.

-          Price must have seen the look in your eyes as he patted you on the shoulder as he passed you, “he’s alright Jolly, don’t you worry, Ghost is tough” he said to comfort you.

-          You knew better than anyone how tough Ghost could be, seeing as you both spent a lot of time ripping each other to bits and putting each other back together afterwards, but it didn’t lessen the painful feeling in your chest.

 -          You tried to stay yourself during the next few days as Ghost didn’t wake up, but you couldn’t help but be short with people, your anxiety for the Brit growing more and more every day.

-          You still had a smile on your face, it was something you had trained into yourself after your violent torture, even if you hid it with your balaclava. But seeing Ghost like that, so cold and still on the medical bed, it was like it ripped open every scar you had on your body and left you freezing.

-          You visited Ghost every day, more than once for that matter, always hoping he would be awake to roll his eyes at you and tell you not to worry, maybe even insult you for being such a worrywart, but he didn’t move, not even a twitch.

-          It was impossible to sleep at night, the dark bags under your eyes growing day by day even as they were hidden by the black paint you wore around them. You knew it was obvious you weren’t coping well, and it was obvious to others as recruits avoided you like the plague and your friends looked at you with worry.

-          Finally, one day when exercising in the bases gym, you overheard a group of people talk about Ghost, and when one of them made a comment about how they hoped he didn’t wake up, something in you seemed to snap.

-          Because during those long sleepless nights you had realized what you felt for Ghost wasn’t just some random spark that came with an exciting bed partner, but it was love. You had realized you were so in love with Ghost the idea of losing him was destroying you.

-          Your world had bled red and when you came back to yourself it was because you were being held to the ground by Price, Soap, and Gaz. Price was talking to you, but you could make sense of anything he was saying, your eyes stuck on the soldier you had jumped as he was taken out of the gym by his mates.

 -          You had been benched after that, not allowed to use the gym, or get involved with anything involving planning, training, or the likes. All you could really do was clean, do kitchen duty or sit with Ghost.

-          So that’s what you did, you sat with Ghost. Sitting in silence with your hands clenched tight, shoulders tense, and scars burning as if they were brand new. You got little sleep, most of it by Ghosts bedside sitting in those horrible chairs all medical facilities seemed to use, arms crossed over your chest and body ready to spring into action if needed.

-          It was evening, not too late but late enough that no one was moving about, and Ghost had been moved into a personal room a while ago as he still didn’t wake up, at least there was the privacy of the room being like that.

-          You found yourself by his bedside again, holding his limp hand as he stared down at the white sheets that covered him. All of a sudden, the fabric around your face felt so constricting, and frustration flared in your chest as you reached up and tore it off, balling up the black fabric of your balaclava and throwing it at the floor.

-          Your hair was a mess, you know this for a fact, having not washed it since Ghost went into this coma of his, it just didn’t seem important when the man who had wormed his way into your heart was here and not waking up.

-          For once you weren’t smiling, a painful frown on your face as you clasped onto Ghosts hand, trying so hard to will him to move, or make a noise, anything. Your eyes blurred as tears gathered in them as scenarios played through your mind for the thousandth time.

-          What if he didn’t wake? What if he didn’t return your feelings? What if, what if, what if.

 -          You had been so consumed by the painful feelings and thoughts that you didn’t notice Ghosts eyes fluttering, slowly opening, or his head turning in your direction as you sat with your head ducked down, trying so hard not to start sobbing.

-          “Never thought I’d see the day” a raspy voice said from the bed, your head quickly snapping up and trying in vain to blink away tears, the tears running down your cheeks and leaving wet lines down your face.

-          You didn’t know what to say, keeping Ghosts eyes that looked at you softly, he still looked exhausted, but he gripped your hand back when you didn’t react.

-          “And here I thought id never see you not smiling, Jolly” he chuckled softly, his voice rough and dry, sounding slightly pained as the chuckling made his body move just a little. You just let out a pain noise at seeing him awake, finally springing to your feet and knocking the chair you were sitting in over.

-          “Ghost” you choked, eyes welling up with tears again as the iron cold grip that had been on your hard loosened, trying to find words to express just how relieved you were to see him awake, how much you loved him, how much he meant to you, but nothing came out.

-          Seeming to notice your dilemma Ghost just huffed a laugh and pulled you close with the grip he had on your hand, and when you were close enough to leant in to press a soft kiss to your lips. His lips were dry and chapped, but kissing him was the best feeling you had ever experienced.

-          A wobbly noise left you as you reached up and held onto his face almost desperately, kissing him over and over, your tongues rubbing against one another and getting spit all over your chins.

 -          Ghost was the one to finally pull back, not giving you enough time to whine at the loss of contact as he pressed his forehead against your own, his hands coming up to comb through your messy hair.

-          “Hope you didn’t miss me too much Jolly” he joked, a scoff leaving your lips as he grasped onto his shirt, not wanting to let go any time soon.

-          “Don’t you dare do that again Simon” you growled, staring deeply into his eyes, his eyes seeming to grow even softer and fonder as you used his name, his hand coming down to caress your cheek.

-          Pecking your lips one last time he just muttered he couldn’t make any promises, to which you let out an annoyed grunt. You stayed like this for a while, not wanting to let go of the other and just needing to feel the others contact and attention.

-          The feelings that had been brewing in your chest didn’t seem to be able to be contained anymore as the quiet words of confession fall from your lips, the fear or losing Simon too great, the knowledge that you had almost lost the ability to tell him.

-          Simon tensed up but slowly relaxed again, his beautiful eyes looking into your own. Carefully, Simon reached up and pulled off his balaclava, revealing his scarred-up face and blonde hair to you.

-          It made the warmth inside you grow even further to see him. He had never been a man of words, but as he pulled you in to kiss you once more, you knew his answer, and it made you want to weep tears of joy.

-          You could almost forget you were in a hospital room, on a military base. Being here with Simon was more than enough, to know he loved you back even though he couldn’t say it was enough. This was all you needed, all Simon needed too. To have each other, nothing else mattered.

[daisyblinder]

Falling apart (Part 1) / Thomas Shelby x reader

🦚Warnings: Cursing 

🦚Summary: Thomas Shelby is not good with emotions. So when his wife is going through a rough time, he makes an insensitive comment.

As a result she hides her breaking heart from him and turns to the only member of the family she knows won't shame her for being vulnerable: Arthur

And so begins Thomas's story of jealousy, marriage councelling and learning intimacy. 

When she had married Tommy, she had known what she signed up for. She knew her husband did not wear his heart on his sleeve, hell she knew that sometimes he did not wear his heart at all.

 But very rarely she had had to face his coldness. When she was in distress, he had been there for her. When she was happy, he often smiled with her. But today was not a day when Thomas Shelby was offering her those treats.

 Been raised by a mother who believed girls to be a stain on the family’s purity was difficult. Having been the daughter who faced her mother’s wrath on most things, Y/n was used to believing when something was wrong, it was her fault.

 She was used to believing that when she looked in the mirror, she was a lesser being, cruel and childish girl who would never find her place in the world. For a long time those feelings were kept in a locked chest, and she was able to smile and feel the world accepting her.

 But now on the 10 anniversary of her father’s death, all the security and love that had died with him, felt like it was dying all over again.

 With glossy eyes, she wrung up a bouquet of flowers. When she had married Tommy, he had let her keep working at the flower shop her friend Ida owned. had known her for over half of her life. She had become her dear companion and her family.

 But now Y/n worked alone. Two years ago Ida had slept away at the age of 85. And the Shelby family had agreed that it was for the good of Y/n to buy the flower shop for them and let her keep running it.

 Sniffling she finishes the small flower girl bouquet and sighs. This day was supposed to be easier by now. But no. There was nothing easy remembering all of her past. The things she had hidden to keep her held up.

 The missing hole her father left, the spears and knifes her mother threw towards her, the times Ida’s brother had tried to corner her into the backroom of the store and most of all the loneliness she had faced her whole life.

 Feeling of being the outsider. The one girl who people said would end up an old maid, the girl who others pointed and laughed when she thought that she had friends.

”I heard the store was to closed today”, a low voice interrupted her misery. With a jump Y/n turns and tries her best to muster up a smile.

 ”Tuesdays are usually slow days, I’m finishing up the wedding flowers today”, she explains almost crying with relief when she feels her husbands hands arrive on her shoulders. Only his touch comforting her to no end.

 Sighing Tommy rolls up a chair to sit next to her and puts a cigarette between his lips. ”And don’t you think half of the town remembers what day it is today now that you have closed the shop, eh?”, he points out focusing on lighting his cigarette.

 Furrowing her brows Y/n turns to look at Tommy with bewildered eyes. ”And what does that have to do with anything?”, she asks softly, guilt already rising in her heart.

 ”Family is my strength, but if the people out there see how fragile your head is, they will know where to hit”, he explains leaning back and looking at the ceiling. He knew he was not playing the fairest game but he did not want Y/n to end up suffering for his business.

 And for that to not happen, she needed to realize what to do to protect it.

 ”Tommy, my head is just in the mud today”, she sighs and lays her hand on his thigh. Needing to touch him so that she feels he is not disgusted by her. Needing the reassurance he would not leave.

 ”Mud that’s more than old enough to be clay”, he comments coolly looking at his wife in the eyes now. ”And clay doesn’t spread around, bag it, close the bags and shove them in the closet”, he instructs.

 His words cut deeper than he ever expected them to. But he knew that this was something he had to do. If his wife was a wreck for everyone to see, it made her soft, and if he let it continue, it made him and the business soft.

 ”Alright”, Y/n whispers pulling her hand away. Resting her elbows on the table and resting her chin on her hands she closes her eyes to hide the tears rising in them. She had needed Tommy today, she had needed him on her side.

 ”So?”, Tommy says softer this time and leans towards her to rest his chin on her shoulder.

”So?”

 ”Will the store be open tomorrow?”, he asks voice still soft but his words still hurt.

 ”8 o’clock sharp”, she answers her own voice stronger than she expected. Tommy gently turns her chin to face him and gives her a soft kiss. ”I’ll be home early tonight”, he promises before rising and taking his leave.

 When she hears the door close, her tears fall. Heavy ugly sobs and hiccups rising from her chest as the self-hatred and loneliness all start coming out. Trying to calm herself, as she feels her whole body start shaking she tries to think of a place to go to.

 Soon her mind is set and she is racing out of her store to the Garrison.

 ***

Arriving to the pub, she goes to straight to the bar. ”Is Arthur here?”, she asks Harry, trying to hold herself together the best she can.

 ”In the back”, Harry answers letting her make herself over to her brother-in-law. When she arrives, there is Arthur a glass of whisky in his hand and for once a grin on his face.

 When Y/n sees him, she can’t hold back her emotions anymore. Her sobbing starts annew as Arthur stares at her with wide scared eyes.

What the fuck to do?

 ”I-I”, Y/n tries to speak but her shaking becomes too strong and her breathing turns erratic. Quickly Arthur is up from his seat.

 Arthur gently puts his arm around his sister-in-law and leads her to the seat he just occupied. ”Easy, love. There ain’t nuthing coming to get ya”, he soothes and kneels next to her, his left arm still around her frame, bringing his right hand to hold one of her tightly.

 He knew what it felt like to be drowning in misery. He had had the shakes more than once and knew how the world could do someone some mean tricks.

”Do you want to call Tommy?”, he asks softly after Y/n’s breathing steadies a little.

 ”No!”, she says quickly her head snapping towards Arthur in lightning speed, her breathing picking up again.

 Arthur tightens his hold on her and starts speaking fast. ”Alright, no Tommy. Ain’t Tommy got anything to do here. No Tommy”, he awkwardly tries to soothe.

 Y/n takes steady breaths as she tries to collect her thoughts. ”How do you do it?”, she whispers after a while making Arthur’s brows furrow. ”How can you keep going? All the awful things you’ve seen, all the emotions you go through a-and then the family just tells you to push it aside? How can you keep going?”, she rambles sniffling on the way.

 Arthur locks eyes with her for a minute before dropping his gaze to the ground. Y/n can see him clenching his jaw, his blue eyes turning sad. ”I ain’t like Tommy, I can’t just shove it down”, he whispers sadly causing Y/n to squase his hand.

 ”And you don’t have to be”, she reassures. There were great many times when she had heard the family put Arthur down, sometimes for a reason and sometimes she thought they were being cruel. The man had done everything to protect his family, Tommy had become the leader of the family but she saw Arthur as the father. The father who did everything to protect his kids and help them succeed, even if it meant they rose above his own authority.

 He has become a friend and a brother to her. Great many times she tried to get him to talk to her about his emotions, and he did talk. After talking he was usually more level. What he needed was someone to listen. Like she did now.

 ”Tommy say something to ya?”, he then asks raising his own eyes. He can see Y/n tense up at his words. Her lip starting to wobble a bit.

 ”You know how I’ve told y-you about my relationship with me own head?”, she whispers and she gets a nod in return. ”Tommy wants me to just shove all of my feelings into a locked box. But I can’t- I can’t, but I love Tommy. I love that man so much it hurts, I-I just wonder when will he get tired of me”

 Her words cause Arthur to shake his head slowly. ”There ain’t gonna be a day when he gets tired of ye. Look at me, Y/n, you look at me”, Arthur raises the hand that was holding hers to hold her chin.

 ”Tommy fell in love with ye integrity. Yes, I learned a pretty word and that is what Tommy loves the most about ye. No matter how much you battle with the devil, you never let him hide yer heart. ”, he reassures her and then drops her chin.

 ”Tommy ain’t good with lovey things but he cares more than anyone”, he finishes. Y/n gives a shaky sigh and looks at the ceiling. ”He was good with Grace”, she says vulnerably.

 That causes Arthur to rise up and drag her up with him. ”Wh- Where are we going?”, Y/n asks startled. Arthur looks down at her sharply.

 ”We’re going for a walk, ye need air and I ain’t gonna let you cry on yer own because of a dead woman”, then he stops in his tracks and stares down with wide eyes.

 ”Y-Y/n?”, he starts hesitantly. His sister-in-law raises her brows a little startled by his timid voice.

 ”Yes?”

 ”Are you up the swanny?”, the pure terror in his voice makes Y/n laugh outloud. Her giggles only strengthen with his following pout. ”I was just asking, don’t want to offer a pregnant lady whiskey”

 Y/n calms down from her giggles and looks up at Arthur with pure mirth now in her eyes. ”You look like I just asked you to be my midwife”, she shakes her head. ”But no, there is no babe in my belly”

 ”Thank the devil. I may be Arthur fucking Shelby but pregnant ladies are still a mystery to me”, he mutters more to himself but Y/n hears him and her laughter bubbles out anew.

 **

After their walk Y/n gets a ride back home. Now in her face was a soft smile. The miracles having a true friend could do.

Sighing she takes of her boots and goes to the kitchen to get a glass of water. She makes her way up to her husbands study to see if he was already home.

 ”So instead of keeping the shop, you decide to go on a stroll with my brother like a little lovesick girl, eh?”, is the first greeting she gets when she opens the door to his room.

 Tommy knew it was her coming. She knew he wouldn’t bother knocking and he knew her steps all too well. He also knew the feeling brewing inside of him all too well. Pure and irrational jealousy.

 ”I went to your brother to calm my head”, Y/n tries to explain softly and goes to stand next to Tommy’s chair. She chews on her lip, her previous fears coming to light again.

 Tommy let’s out an unamused huff shaking his head. ”And you couldn’t just say this to me when I visited you, that you need to talk?”, he grunts, knowing he is being unfair.

The lecture he gave her this morning was all but encouraging of the fact but the boiling thought of her finding comfort in another man made him irrationally angry. The anger became even more burning hot when he knew he was part of the reason she had to find comfort.

 ”Tommy you know why I went to Arthur”, Y/n sighs tiredly. She knew that Tommy understood why she had gone but she also knew he was too prideful to admit that.

 ”And you think he is a prime example of how to control your emotions? Prime example of the shit inside can turn everything to shit on the outside”, he speaks coldly staring at her with his ice colored orbs. Y/n stares back clenching her jaw, now refusing to back down.

 ”Like you haven’t used that to your benefit”

 ”Excuse me?”

 ”Like you don’t use his emotions to your benefit! You know he will do anything for you! You know he has done everything and anything he could to see you succeed! ” she was yelling now. Thomas goes to interrupt her but she lifts her hand to stop him.

 ”I know you have been there for him too but he acknowledges that! Can’t you fucking see how much he adores you, he would bring you the moon if you asked him to! You have someone you can fall back on, I lost the person who I could fall back on 10 years ago! AND IT FUCKING HURTS!”, the end of her speech was a pure scream.

 She was tired of playing calm when she was seething and crying on the inside. She was already falling apart why not show it.

 Tommy looks up at her ever the picture of calm and collected strength. ”You have me”, he whispers finally. He pushes his chair back a little and reaches out a steady hand.

 Y/n takes it and lets him guide her into his lap, slumping down on him like a doll, his touch quelling the starvation for affection she was burning for.

 Thomas can feel the regret of his words seeping into his heart as he feels how much him just being there seemed to aid his wife. His sweet free spirited wife. His sweet treasure he wanted to hide from every wop and copper coming their way.

She only needed him to be there but he was not a man whole. He was man who had more than a world on his shoulders. 

”You fucking have me”, he then whispers again pressing his lips against Y/n’s forehead tightly. She brings her own hand to lay against the side of his neck, stroking her thumb along his jaw ever so gently.

 ”I can’t turn my emotions off like from a light switch, I can’t Tommy”, she admits with sorrow as she tries to burrow herself even closer to her husband.

 Tommy lets out a sigh and closes his eyes. ”You don’t have to”; he finally says, ”We’ll work on this. Hell we’ll work on this with Arthur, what do you say? He knows why I do what I do but he understands what your head does to you”

 Y/n smiles but then lets out a little snort. ”You really must love me to offer that”, she eventually giggles. ”Therapy with Arthur fooking Shelby”

 Her giggles make Tommy let out a small chuckle of his own. But then he turns serious. With quick almost rough movement he grasps both sides of her face and makes her look at him in the eye.

 ”That I do. I love you and I would kill every fucking living thing that tries to take you from me. I have you, you can fall on me”, he speaks seriously. Y/n smiles lifting her own hands to hold his wrists.

 ”I love you so much Tommy”, she whispers back and leans down to give him a sensual kiss. For fifteen minutes they stay just like that, her in his lap sharing lingering kisses. When they finally pull away Y/n is breathless but smiling as she rests her forehead against her husbands.

 ”Your heart is safe with me Tommy, let me take care of it for once too”

Part 2

[belaephemeral]

Hold me tight, don’t let go (please don’t let it swallow me whole)

Pairings: Vil x Reader x Rook (gender-neutral)

Description: You discover how a lie becomes the truth, one that you can’t believe but one that was inevitable. And it tears you apart.

Author’s Note: sorry self-indulgent vent fic.

Everything is spinning. 

Your fingers uncontrollably tremble no matter how much you will them to still. You heart jumps, throbbing painfully against your ribcage. You feel it rattle underneath your skin and bone as you wheeze, in and out, desperate to fill your lungs with air, to resist the unbearable sensation clamping against your chest. 

The world is spinning. Shapes undulate and coagulate into abstract objects that swarm you. Your vision swims and you teeter between this horrible, excruciating waking world and succumbing to the welcoming dark obsidian depths that lurk around the edges, waiting patiently, before consuming you whole. 

Everything hurts. You feel like a rag, twisted, wrung of everything that you held hopelessly onto, discarded and left for good. Why did this have to happen to me? Why now? Why when everything seemed to be going so well, so perfect, when everything seemed to be going as planned? You’re so stupid, so gullible, no naive to think it was finally going the way you wanted because this foolish, immature saccharine perspective of yours is the weight that pulls you deeper, and deeper, as you drown. As you flail and no one will help you because there’s no one here for you. All except for him.

Your body feels like it’s on autopilot. In your line of sight, you catch the familiar sight of medieval architecture, the rich, luxurious shades of violet and mauve, and intricate gold embellishments. Stumbling through the corridor, your throat constricts, your stomach curls, but you resist the nausea that threatens to bubble into your throat to reach Pomefiore’s Lounge. Your hands trace the walls, finding something to hold onto to as it suddenly become hard to stand upright, as it becomes harder and harder to breathe.

The corridors are dim. The only source of light comes from the moonlight that streams through the dorm’s grand windows and the only thing you hear as you clammer down the hall is the whistling of the night breeze that billows through an opened window and��faint chattering from the Lounge.

Meekily, peering through the splotches of black that cloud your vision, you enter the room. Upon your unexpected entrance, Vil promptly stands as Rook observes you carefully. “What’s the matter, darling”, the dorm leader rushes to your side, “What’s on your mind, my little star?” he reaches to cradle your face, pulling you closer to him gently, careful not to break you, careful not to hurt you more so than you’ve already been.

And you falter. You abhor the idea of showing people, much less them, your flaws, weakness, and vulnerabilities because that’s the last side of yourself you want to show them. Because the last thing you need is their pity. But the thought doesn’t cross your mind. The thought isn’t one that you register as you finally crack, splinter and break in his tender hold. Your embarrassment and humiliation at the idea of someone seeing you weak and fragile is cast to the side as your eyes agonisingly sting and burn, your heart squeezes painfully and is on the verge of bursting, and a tsunami rings in your eyes loudly. 

Because the image you’ve painstakingly built for yourself doesn’t matter not when you collapse into his arms, clutching onto the front of his robes desperately for something, someone, to weigh you down, to anchor you to this world and remind you that you’re here. Because you relish in being able to confide in your trusted confidants and bear yourself to them. You figure as much as Vil cards his fingers through your locks methodically, wrapping his arms around you, and bringing you closer to his chest. 

Following the metronome of his heartbeat, mirroring the rhythmic thump-thump that you feel as you’re pressed against him, you slow your ragged breaths. Gradually, it becomes easier to breath, it becomes easier to find your footing in a world that swirls underneath you and it becomes easier to find yourself again. It’s as though under this moonlight, under the expanse of stars above you, he’s a lighthouse that guides you home. A boat tossed across turbulent waves and tides finally able to see land and wretch itself away from the tempestuous oceans and clouds that broil over it.

The hushed voices reverberate in your head as murmurs, not able to comprehend the strings of words that flow out of the dorm leader and vice dorm leader’s mouth. Shaking, you lift yourself slightly off the male’s form, grimacing at the stains against his previously pristine outfit. You remain crumpled against him, like a tattered sheet of paper folded and torn at the edges, gathering what’s left of yourself as you shakily exhale. You aren’t sure when you were taken to one of the chemises of the Lounge but you can feel the plush cushion underneath you.

You don’t say anything. You can’t say anything without throwing up the organ that threatens to launch itself into your oesophagus. 

So, you don’t. You just revel in the warmth Vil exudes and the tender kiss he places against the crown of your head. You savour the way he takes your hand in his and soothingly rubs circles into the back of your hand. You bask in the way he whispers “it’ll be okay, darling”s into your ear, relishing in the way the “I’m right here, love, I won’t leave you” resounds throughout you. 

The couch dips behind you and you hear the sound of a cup being placed on the table in front of you and the sweet fragrances of jasmine. A hand slowly turns your chin upwards and a soft handkerchief catches the tears that descends down your cheek. For the first time in what feels like years, you open your eyes to glimpse at Rook softly smiling at you. You lock eyes and he stars back earnestly, wiping off the shimmering tracks along your cheeks. Once you blink, you feel lips carefully and softly press against your eyelid and whisper “Take as long as you need, mon trésor, we’re here for you”.

You don’t know if you’ll be able to voice the parasite that’s chewing away your insides or the monster ravaging the carefully built architecture of your mental foundations. You can’t find the words for it right now. But you’re comforted by the fact that they won’t pressure you into telling them - that they’ll wait once you’re comfortable and willing to share the demon that’s infiltrated your mind and haunts your waking thoughts.

But at this moment, you don’t want to think about the overwhelming anxiety that’s plaguing you. Right now, you want to cherish the feeling of their warm embrace. Securely, the hold onto you, each resting their head on your shoulder and lulling you into a stable state with the rhythm of their heartbeat and the tempo of their tranquil inhales and exhales.

You’ll worry about it later. Right now, you want to relish in this moment. Right now, you want to feel the safety of their arms that protect you from the treacherous outside world. Right now, you want to revel in this reverie - this escape you’ve all created, a respite from what seeks to hunt you once you leave the refuge of their embrace.

Right now, you just need a reminder that you’re human, you just need to distract yourself from your worries - you just need them. And they’re all you could need in this moment. You register two final kisses planted on your forehead and your cheek as you slowly, gently fall into your fatigue and descend into the world of dreams. But as you do, you aren’t drowned as you have been these days, two loving, guiding hands lower you to this land of Nod. Two figures, brilliant and luminescent in this dreamscape of yours ward away the darkness lying in wait. You haven’t slept better in days. 

Selfishly, you’ll stay in their embrace, stay in their arms, stay with them. Because they are anchoring you to this world, a lighthouse guiding you home, and the gravity that pulls your head out of this cloud of misery. And you’ll forever cherish their support as they are willing to give it to you unfailingly. And you’ll love them unconditionally for everything they’ve done for you. 

Sweet dreams, ma chérie, for another day is awaiting on the horizon.

But don’t worry, we’ll be by your side every step of the way, darling. We’ll be waiting for you and please don’t be afraid to lean on us when you find yourself having to. 

Je t’aime, mon cœur.

Tu me complètes. Bonne nuit. 

Sorry, I just want to be held. I hope everything gets better but it’s so fucking hard for some reason. 

You don't know what you've got until you lose it

[silvrash-797]

Glassbound

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Chapter 2: The Rescue

Disclaimer: I'm trying to stay canon-compliant with the way Jojo says Four's colors work, that they're his 'true colors' and not individual beings. That said, I've read a lot of fics with the Colors as separate individuals, so I can't say I haven't been influenced.

So, I like to think that, when Four mentions one of his Colors, he's not actually talking about the Color, but the feelings he associates with the color (like how my oldest kid used to associate her internal anger with yellow dragons). Therefore, Red's mentioned a few times because of how relieved Four is to find Hyrule :)

Four crept on silent paws through the abandoned keep, nose twitching and ears swiveling for any sign of trouble. The Forest Minish he’d been visiting had mentioned seeing some scary men dragging a boy inside, and with no better lead to go off of, he’d made the trek, hoping to find Hyrule.

His feathery tail swished behind him in consternation as he came to a crossroads. Exploring this place would be much easier as a Hylian, but he hadn’t found another Minish portal, and it was much easier to stay unnoticed when he was the size of a mouse.

Left, right, or straight ahead? He didn’t have time to make a mistake – Hyrule had been missing for almost four full days, now, and if this place was as empty as the Minish seemed to think, then Hyrule'd been abandoned with nothing to sustain himself.

He wrung his paws together as he thought, looking around the floor for any clues. The barest, dusty remnant of formerly muddy footprints led down the hall to his left, and he made his choice. His heart pounded as he scampered down the hall, following the traces of mud as they wound deeper into the keep.

The trail ended at the top of a steep set of stairs.

Four sniffed cautiously at the air wafting from below – stale, musty, a bit of mold or mildew, but just underneath, Hylian.

Hang on, Rulie! he thought as he carefully slid down the stairs, chattering quietly to himself as the cold enveloped him.

Taking a moment to let his eyes adjust to the relative darkness, Four finally looked around. The room appeared to be a cellar, although no scents came from the barrels and boxes. A cracked, overturned pot hidden in the corner sent a thrill of excitement through him - a Minish portal!

Once through the portal, his additional several feet of height allowed him to see another room annexed to the main cellar. Still alert for any disturbances, Four crept on cautious feet through the boxes towards the new room.

Rounding the corner, he let out an involuntary gasp. “Rulie!” No response from the Traveler, but after this long alone he hardly expected one.

Heavy manacles encircled the Traveler's wrists and bare ankles, holding him suspended about a foot off the ground. Weak breaths rasped through dry, cracked lips, but he was breathing, if unconscious.

Hesitantly, Four reached up and patted Hyrule’s cheek. “Rulie? Link?”

Dull, exhausted eyes fluttered open, and the rasping breaths hitched slightly. “…Four?” the Traveler slurred painfully, voice dry as the desert winds, “’s that you?”

Four was already reaching for his waterskin, carefully holding it to the Traveler’s lips. “Shh, it’s me, I’m here. Drink. Slowly,” he advised, as the Traveler attempted to inhale the water his body had been denied for so long. He pulled the skin away slightly, heart breaking at the desperate keen that followed, until Hyrule was aware enough to sip at the water without drowning himself.

Four pulled the water away again after a few minutes. Hyrule, survivalist that he was, grumbled a bit but didn’t chase after it again, instead giving Four a watery smile. “Missed you,” he whispered.

The Red part of Four's soul wanted to hug the Traveler tight and never let go, but to do that he had to get him down. Reaching for the lock picks he kept under his belt, he set to work. “I’m so glad I found you, Rulie, we’ve been worried sick,” he admitted, wincing at the bruises that were revealed as the manacles around Hyrule's ankles fell away. “What happened? Are you hurt anywhere else?”

Hyrule made a noise of uncertainty. “Can’t tell,” he murmured. “They weren’t gentle, but I don’t remember anything more than some bumps and scrapes. Can’t feel my shoulders, though,” he smiled wryly.

Four winced, looking around for a suitable box to drag over, both to support Hyrule and allow him to reach the manacles around his wrists. “Has anyone been by since they left you here?” he asked as he shoved the box in place, climbing up.

“Once,” Hyrule hummed, staggering as his arms fell.

Four caught him around the waist, sneaking in Red's hug as he helped the Traveler sit.

Hyrule grimaced as he leaned into the Smithy's hold. “They brought a bit of water…made sure I wasn’t going anywhere…” he sighed, drooping in exhaustion. “Then they left. Not a word spoken.”

Four offered his last potion – the red liquid glistening in the bulbous glass bottle – and his waterskin again, and Hyrule took them gratefully. His eyes were clearer when he finally handed them back. “Thank you, Four.”

Four smiled back. “Don’t mention it. Are you ready to get out of here? How’re your shoulders now?”

Hyrule sat up and stretched cautiously. “Much better, thanks. Let’s go.”

Four led the way through the boxes in the cellar, opting to stay Hylian for now. “I didn’t notice anyone nearby while I was looking for you, so hopefully we’re in the clear.” They reached the base of the steps and began the ascent.

“That’s good,” Hyrule breathed, “I can’t wait to get back to everyone. How long have I been gone?”

“Nearly four days. Not even Wolfie could get a lead on you; if I hadn’t met the Minish I don’t–” He stopped when Hyrule tugged on his arm. “What is it?”

Hyrule’s eyes were wide and scared. “You said four days?” he whispered.

Four blinked at him, confused. “Yeah, why does that…” A shadow fell across Hyrule's eyes – no, that was a shadow across the whole stairwell!

Four turned, hand on the hilt of his sword, ready to defend his brother from the hulking giant of a man that obscured the head of the stairs.

“Little rat,” the man growled, gimlet eyes narrowed, “how’d you get in here?”

[autistpride]

AUTISM ACCEPTANCE

Prompt day 4: April 4

Airport/Travel AU

Word count: 1000

@wolfstarmicrofic

“No, no you don't understand!” Sirius said, trying his hardest not to yell. “My first flight had a delayed take off, but I still arrived here in time. The planes have not even left yet! It’s right there! I don’t understand why you won't let me board. I have my boarding pass and I don’t have any luggage except my carry-on and my backpack.”

“Sir, I’m sorry but policy states that you have to be here and board with the rest of your class. You showed up after we closed the door.”

“So open it! Please, please.” Sirius begged

“I'm sorry sir. I’ll have security escort you to the front desk and you can talk to them about refunding your ticket.”

“No!” Sirius snapped when a hand gripped his bicep and gave him a small tug.

“Come on pal.” The security officer said and Sirius’ shoulders slumped and he followed security away from the gate.

Sirius couldn’t believe he missed his flight, he needed that flight. He might miss his brother's wedding.

Sirius felt like everything was falling apart and it had started two weeks ago when his brother called and said he was eloping but wanted Sirius there but when Sirius tried to book the flights, there was none to be had.

Sirius felt like he couldn’t breath, his chest felt heavy and all the sounds were muffled like he was underwater. His heart beat so loudly he swore he could feel it pulsating in his ears.

“Aye, mate. You okay?” The security officer asked Sirius as he guided him to sit down.

Sirius started crying, explaining through broken sobs everything that had happened over the last two weeks, just one thing after another.

“Where do you need to go?” he asked in a tone Sirius could only assume was curious.

“Hockwold Hall,” Sirius said, “I was supposed to get that flight from here to Stansted and then get a cab.”

“Oh, what an odd coincidence. That’s actually my hometown. I can just take you there.” The man said with a shrug like it was not that big of a deal.

Sirius looked over at the man in surprise. No one was that kind and to take a stranger in your own vehicle was just proof this guy was naive. For all the other man knew, Sirius could be an axe murderer or something. But he seemed nice enough. His eyes were a soft golden brown and his hair was, wow. Sirius was pretty sure a bird was nesting in that mess of brown curls but he was far too polite to say so.

“Look, I get off in an hour and then we’ll head that way. ‘Ight?” The man asked.

Sirius nodded.

“Great! I’m Remus by the way,” the officer said, rising back to his feet. Sirius realised then how tall Remus was. He towered over his five foot six frame.

“Sirius,” he mumbled.

“Cool. See you, soon starman!” Remus called back to him as he left Sirius sitting on the floor near the security office.

A little over an hour later saw Sirius placing his carry-on into the boot of a beat up old Skoda that Sirius was pretty sure would break down on the side of the road within minutes. Sirius had no idea how it passed its MOT. Sirius sat into the passenger seat and began to question himself. Maybe Sirius was in fact the naive one and Remus was the axe murderer. Remus sat down into the driver's seat and turned the key in the ignition before pulling out onto the road. Sirius prayed silently that he wouldn’t die.

What should have been a four hour drive was taking nearly twice as long. Sirius’ leg bounced and his hands wrung the hem of his shirt. His nervousness and stress wasn’t aided by the fact that there was nothing to distract him.

Remus played no music on the radio, saying it distracted him. He knew the drive so well that he lowered his speed limiter nearly a half a mile before each change and raised it only after the end speed limit sign. When Sirius asked why, Remus explained that it allowed for a gradual decrease in speed and thus a smoother drive instead of having to react and suddenly use the braking system. He held the steering wheel with both hands exactly at ten and two and used his signals religiously.

He didn't speak unless Sirius asked him a question which Remus answered so formally and almost like a professor. So Sirius took to pestering Remus with any question he could think of to keep some form of conversation going, and in sick pleasure to see if he could crack Remus and make him loosen up. But Sirius could tell Remus didn't mind because he would often smile or snort before answering and a few times Sirius made him laugh.

When Remus drove into the grassy parking area of the hall and turned off the engine he finally grinned. “Made it safely. Great job girl” Remus said, petting the dashboard of his vehicle like it was a wild beast.

Sirius let out a surprised chuckle. “Thank you for the ride,” Sirius said softly. “I know this was well out of your way.”

“Nah. My parents live literally across the street. I plan to just surprise them and stop by for a few days. Do you know where you're going from here?”

Sirius shook his head no.

“Well no use making you suffer, come on” he said, opening his door and starting for the entrance. “They will likely be round the back using the gardens for the ceremony and the back building for the reception.” Remus explained as Sirius practically ran to catch up.

Remus directed Sirius through the reception rooms to the back entrance and pointed to the small set up out back. “There you have it.”

Sirius bit his lip and then whispered, “would you like to stay, as my date?”

Remus grinned.

[fuckmelifesucks]

You Saw

Pair: Elriel {For Elriel Month 2023}

Summary: Elain pours her heart out to Azriel. 

Warning: Angsty, no specific POV so kinda messy.

Words: 3.6k

Characters: ACOTAR; Sarah J Mass.

~~~~~

“I did it.”

The soft murmur was heard from the doorway of the living room in the empty Townhouse. He stilled, every muscle in his body going taut as the soft words floated over to where he stood in front of the unlit fireplace. He registered the words, mulling over the meaning behind them. She did it. Had she done what he thought she had? Or was he getting ahead of himself? She couldn’t possibly have done what he thought she had.

No, she wou –

All thoughts ceased as he turned to face her. His mind went silent at the look on her face as she stood there, chest heaving and cheeks red. It was the look of utter relief. The look of finally doing something one was too afraid to do, thinking that there would be severe consequences. It was the look of relief he knew he once donned himself when he had been released from the shackles of that prison of his childhood –that small dark room where the very shadows became his only friend.

The shadows that twirled around him stilled as well. For a moment, nothing moved, as if the whole world itself held its breath to see what came next.

“What?” The word came out so low, he wondered if she even heard him.

Elain took a step into the room, then another and another until she was well over halfway in, her dress of soft pinks and violets rasping behind her, so at odds with the dark leathers that he donned and the shadows that surrounded him, circling his hands and weaving through his fingers, the massive wings that peeked over his shoulders imposingly.

“I did it. I talked to him. I told him – ” She paused, gulping around the thick ball of emotions lodged in her throat, hands clenching the fabric of her dress into fists, “I told Lucien that I did not want him. That I could not be with him and that I wanted to break –reject the bond. I wanted to break it even, if that were possible.”

Azriel didn’t know what to say, what to do with his clenched hands and tight jaw, what to do with his mouth full of cotton and head heavy as lead, his wings tucked tightly against his back. So he stared. Stared as he had so many times before when he thought no one was looking. Stared with the same longing that tightened around his chest like a vice and the same pain that choked him like a noose wrung around his neck every time he was reminded that he could not have her, that she was mated to another. That didn’t seem to deter Elain much as she went on.

“We talked, really talked about everything. He told me how he was happy in the human lands with Vassa and Julian and I told him how I was happy here, in the Night Court, with my family. I told him how I felt like I finally had found a purpose for myself. I told him everything that I felt ever since the bond snapped into place. And – ” She took in a breath, as if to collect her raging emotions, “I told him that I could never feel for him the way the bond wanted us to feel for one another. I told him that I could never give him my heart. And that with me, he would always be miserable. We would both be miserable if ever we were to accept the bond.”

She took another step in Azriel’s direction, watching him stand there, as still as a magnificently beautiful statue. Though, his shadows belied him, dashing from one spot to another, swirling in tight circles, clinging to him, as if to help hold him together. His wings flexed.

“And Lucien – ” The backs of her eyes burned and Elain was sure the tips of her pointed ears were glaringly red, “ –agreed.”

The breath was knocked out of Azriel’s chest as she uttered those words in a gentle voice of relief. In a tone that felt like the spring finally coming after a cold, harsh winter. He couldn’t seem to grasp what she was saying and yet he could.

She had decided to reject her bond with the Autumn Fox. For a moment he felt like he was still asleep, passed out from sheer exhaustion and that this was one of the many torturous dreams that made him never want to wake up from his slumber again. He almost pinched himself to make sure.

“We agreed to reject the mating bond together,” Elain said softly, her doe eyes flickering.

Elain watched Azriel finally move, taking a few steps towards her, eating up far more distance between them with only a few strides. She wanted him closer. Wanted for him to rush toward her and pull her impossibly close to him. Wanted for him to wrap her up in his arms and cocoon them in his wings and kiss her until she was breathless and then kiss her some more.

“Why?” There was not a crack of emotion on his face as the syllables left his mouth. Though, Elain knew him. She saw him and saw beyond that hard unmoving mask he so often hid behind. She saw the uncertainty. Not in her or in them, but in himself. Elain felt her heart burn for him.

Azriel watched Elain tilt her head slightly, a small furrow between her brows and thought to elaborate, “Why can you never feel for him that way? Why can you not give him your heart?”

Deep down, he knew the answer all too well and yet he needed to ask her, needed to hear it from her own mouth, in that sweet, delicate voice of hers that felt like feathers softly gliding down his skin. Like a cool salve to his injured heart. He needed to hear her say it to believe it for self-doubt always gnawed at his insides like termites.

Elain let out a soft breath of air, “Because… I only have one heart and it already belongs to someone else.”

Blood rushed to Azriel’s ears and for a heartbeat, he couldn’t hear anything other than the pounding in them. He said nothing but the small distance that separated them held enough tension that even a blind person could feel it. Behind him, his shadows lashed out in a frenzy, some dancing, some gliding, some rushing, some darting around. He resisted the urge to spread his wings –peacocking them, as Elain so very generously liked to put it.

He felt so much and yet, not a single thing showed on his unmoving face as Elain gazed at him. He was feeling far too much and he didn’t know what to do. And so, unknowingly, he let that mask of icy stillness that he wore so often to hide the turmoil within him fall into place. He had never been good with such feelings and emotions, after all.

And yet, Elain saw right through it. No matter what mask he hid behind, somehow, Elain always saw through and looked solely into the Azriel hidden beneath. Her brows furrowed as she took a step closer to him, tilting her head once more, though no milky sheen took over her eyes as it did whenever the Seer within her came out.

“Take your mask off when you are with me,” She said in a soft but firm whisper of honey and jasmine.

Azriel blinked, and then a moment later, all that he felt, the surprise, the relief, the happiness, the uncertainty, the self-doubt, the worry, crossed over his eyes like white clouds passing over a field, turning grey as a storm brewed. He let that mask drop and laid himself bare for Elain to see. To see what he’d never let anyone get a glimpse of. He let her see all that he was and all that he felt – his emotions wrecking him from within.

“Oh, Azriel…” The sound of his name from her lips threatened to leave him undone, “Had you really thought I could ever leave you behind for a bond that I didn’t even want?”

Sorrow coated her doe-brown eyes as she neared him, stopping only when there was barely any space between the two. Elain watched as the shadows that so tightly wound around him backed away, instead circling the two of them in a ball. She bit her lip as she brought a hand up to cup Azriel’s cheek, soothing a thumb across his honey-brown skin.

“Did you really think that I could give my heart to anyone but –” Her voice wavered at the anguish in his eyes, “ –but you?”

Had anyone ever chosen Azriel the way she chose him? Had anyone ever been willing to give up something as sacred as a mating bond only for him? Azriel knew the answer to those questions and felt like he was going to break into a million pieces right there, only to have Elain pick each one up and put him back together with her loving hands that took such care of him just because she wanted to.

He parted his lips and yet nothing came out. Thoughts swirled like a hurricane in his mind and yet he couldn’t seem to open his mouth and word them. He feared that the hurricane might just sweep him up within it and leave him lost and ruined. But one look at that soft face of Elain and her knowing gaze always pulled him back. He watched her eyes flicker and knew that she knew all that he wanted to say and yet couldn’t know how to.

Azriel knew he was done for. Knew that his heart solely belonged to the soft and gentle yet fierce middle Archeron sister. Knew that he would carve out his own heart and present it to her on a platter of gold if only she asked. He fell to his knees then, feeling heavy in body and in soul, his legs feeling useless as they refused to support his weight upright as such emotions threatened to consume him whole.

A soft gasp left Elain’s lips as Azriel fell to his knees before her, his head bowed and shoulders hunched, wings lying limp behind him. And in that moment, Elain couldn’t find it in herself to see the fabled Shadowsinger or the feared and ruthless Spymaster of the Night Court in the male before her. In that moment, all she could see was the scared little boy in that cold and dark room, who suffered through what no child should’ve gone through. In that moment, he seemed so impossibly small and vulnerable. Elain felt her heart shatter for the boy who was never loved the way he deserved to be loved.

She was kneeling in front of him in a heartbeat as the organ within her chest threatened to burst out. He refused to meet her eyes as Elain took hold of his hands, stroking the rough ridges on the backs of them in gentle caresses. Azriel’s throat tightened and it felt like someone had shoved thorns into his mouth. His eyes burned as dams of emotions thrashed within him to spill over.

“Azriel.” The soft whisper wrapped in a delicate voice seeped into him like a drip of warm honey. “Look at me, Azriel.”

Had he ever shied away from anyone’s gaze in such a way? Had he ever been so vulnerable that he couldn’t meet someone with his eyes? He was not sure. And yet, as Elain asked that very thing of him, he couldn’t find it in himself to look into her eyes. He knew that if he did, he would spill, tipped over like a weak boat in a sea storm.

“Please.”

That soft plea coated with such tendrils of desperation had Azriel’s heart almost stopping, his gut wrecking at the anguished tone. Finally, as he looked up, Elain’s breath hitched at the sorrow etched onto his beautifully carved face. At the wetness that rimmed his sharp eyes –such bright hues of magnificent greens and browns and yellows and greys swirling in them.

Elain brought a hand up to cup his cheek, golden-brown skin smooth like marble under her touch, and Azriel leaned into it, craving the warmth of her palm against him. That mere touch felt like the warmth of the sun and the sweetness of care. It anchored him like nothing else had.

“My sweet Azriel.” She stroked her thumb across his cheek like a lover’s caress, “How could I ever even imagine choosing anyone over you? Giving my heart to anyone who wasn’t you?”

Azriel didn’t know how long he would last before the dams tipped over. He brought his hand up to hold onto the one Elain had so softly placed onto his cheek. A cord had wrapped so tightly around his lungs, he almost couldn’t breathe. He tried to swallow around the lump in his throat. His mouth felt full of ash wood dust.

Cauldron! He didn’t know what to do.

“I have loved you for so long now. So long, I do not remember my heart belonging to anyone but you.” A tear slithered down Elain’s flushed cheek, “I chose you, my love, so long ago.”

“How long, Elain?” He spoke, at long last. He needed to know. Because deep down, he knew that he too, had chosen her long before he even knew he had. Deep within him, he knew that he’d chosen her when she had tried to wield a fork against Cassian that first time he’d met her. Oh, how lovely and beautiful she had looked, even as a human.

Elain cracked a small smile, a misty sheen spreading across her sweet brown eyes, as if she were recalling a distant memory of hers, “Ever since you saw me when no one else would.”

He had seen her when no one else would. Azriel knew what she meant. All he knew was that he had looked at her and hadn’t been able to look away. How could he when the sight of her always reminded him of beautiful summer dawns and warm peaceful sunsets. She was everything good and pure, it made him wonder, how could anyone ever look away from her. And yet, he knew that her words held a much deeper meaning to them.

“You would really go through with it then,” He rasped weakly. “You would really choose a bastard like me over a mating bond with a High Lord’s son.”

“Yes, Az! Mother above, yes, I would,” Elain huffed. Her soft eyes bore into Azriel’s as she continued, “I would reject a hundred mating bonds as sacred as the Mother herself if only it meant that I could be with you. I would choose you in every lifetime. Do you want to know why?”

“Why?”

“Because you saw me. And you heard me when no one else would. You were always there, at every step of the way. You became my friend when I so desperately needed one. You spent time with me in the gardens even when you didn’t have to –not to get me to talk but only to sit in my silent company. You listened when everyone turned a deaf ear, not giving any mind to the riddles I uttered. You pulled me back from the brink of insanity,” Her voice cracked with the emotions running rampage within her.

A tear leaked from Azriel’s eye as she spoke, “Do you know, Azriel, even in those murky days, you were always real. You were always real even when nothing else was.”

Elain went on, “You saw me, Az, for who I really was. You looked past the pretty face and lovely dresses and saw what lay beneath. You saw the ivy and dirt and thorns hidden beneath the flowers and you accepted them. You saw and were not disappointed. You looked and did not look away. Only you. And day by day –” a wet laugh slipped Elain’s lips, “ –bit by bit, I fell madly and so very deeply in love with you. With all your good and all your bad. With all your scars –inside and out.”

“I fell in love with the male who had become my closest friend. Most importantly, I fell in love with a male my own heart chose worthy of its affections instead of someone chosen for me by some magical pot.” Elain calling the Cauldron –the thing that was life and death itself – that had Azriel’s lips curling humorously, despite the fullness he felt in his chest by her words.

His shadows had thickened so densely as they swirled and circled around the pair tightly, Elain was sure none who entered the room would be able to glimpse them. And yet, not one of his shadows came in between them. Not one dared to conceal him from her. They stayed away, just like Elain had wanted them to. After all, they could never hide him from her. She could read him like she could read the back of her hand.

Elain brought her hand to the back of his neck and leaned forward, their foreheads touching, and closed her eyes for a moment, pulling air into her lungs. His scent of night-chilled mist and cedar enveloped her like a soft comfortable blanket on a winter night. She never wanted to leave.

“You always believed in me, no matter what. Like how you believed in me when you lent me your most prized possession, Truth-Teller. The very knife that helped me kill the King of Hybern. You never saw me as a fragile flower to be kept sheltered.” Gratefulness rang heavy in her soft voice.

“You were never a fragile flower. Anyone who thought that was a fucking gods-damned idiot.” At that, Elain let out a weak laugh and Azriel smiled at the glow on her tear-stained face.

“Yes,” she opened her eyes to look deeply into his, “Yes, they were.”

They gazed into each other’s eyes as such emotions hung between them, content in their own little haven, away from the outside world of politics and war and strategies and unwanted bonds and unsteady alliances. Neither of them wanted to leave but they had to. They knew they had to and so, they cherished each and every little moment they could snatch like hungry lovers who met only in the dead of night, in nooks and crannies, with only the moon and the Mother as their witnesses.

They had been sneaking around for so long, going behind their family’s backs because of the shadow of the mating bond looming over them. The same one that would soon be rejected. The pair couldn’t express how elated they felt at the prospect of not having to shadow their love under the pretense of a mere friendship and finally being able to be what they truly meant to one another.

Two lovers with a love for each other so strong, it could surpass even a mating bond. Theirs was a love not meant to be hidden in dark corridors like secret sins. Theirs was a love that scholars preached about in books of great wonders for centuries to come. Theirs was a love that young hearts dreamed of witnessing.

“My heart solely belongs to you, my Azriel.”

“And you hold mine in the palm of your hands, my love.”

Azriel smiled at the sweetness of love that shone like a hundred suns on Elain’s soft, lovely face, bringing his palm up to the smooth, long expanse of her neck, caressing the skin and then moving up to her cheek, stroking his scared thumb gently across the flush that adorned her.

“I will love you to the ends of the worlds, my doe-eyed Seer,” Azriel vowed in a low voice of complete and utter certainty.

“We will forge a bond of our own,” Elain said with such conviction. “A bond so strong, no one could break it. Will you make it with me, Azriel? Will you help me forge it? Will you bind with me? For eternity?”

Azriel blinked. How could she even ask him that? How could she not know the answer that his very soul screamed to tell her? He almost felt like he just might burst from the happiness that exploded within him. There was only one answer to her questions. An answer he had known for a very long while.

He slammed his lips against hers, his hand wounding around her waist to pull her closer, pressed to him, while the other crept up to fist her hair, tilting her head the way he wanted, to deepen their kiss. He kissed her hungrily, jasmine and honey flooding all his senses, and so did Elain, pouring her entire heart out into that kiss as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He wanted to devour her and she wanted to consume him. Like two eager lovers uniting once again after a long while.

He kissed her like a starved male having his last meal and she kissed him like a thirsty female finally finding water. Together, they both drowned in one another and came alive.

“Yes,” he whispered against her lips, holding her delicate face in his hands. “Gods, yes. It will be the greatest honor I will ever, in all my centuries, receive. I want a bond with you and you alone. For eternity.”

And then they crashed into one another once again. Hands roamed and clothes ripped. Lips whispered silent prayers of worship against skin, and in a tangle of sweaty bodies and pleasured moans and satisfied grunts, it was hard to tell where one began and the other ended.

~~~~~

@elriel-month​

[literary-motif]

Audric… write him dead. I need xanthus to kill him.. BUT ALL OF THEM SURVIVED… SO NO ANGST PLS I HAD ENOUGH ANGST… !!!

This is mostly fluff, I promise. Mostly. Maybe more hurt/comfort.

The Red River

Xanthus Claiborne X Reader

The origin of Xanthus' name.

Xanthus sighed contently, settling onto the sofa you had moved in front of the large window. He handed you a steaming cup of tea which you took with a smile, kissing his cheek in thanks as he leaned into your side. “The stars really are the most beautiful thing in existence,” you said into the silence of the night. 

Dontis’ residence in New Orleans, although close to the city center, had a peculiar position that minimized the light pollution so drastically that you could see the multitude of stars twinkling happily in the sky as if you had been in the country, far away from civilization and alone with infinity stretching out before your eyes. 

The blackness of the night sky was not truly darkness. If the light of the stars were stronger, you would be able to see all of them and most of the devouring darkness would disappear, instead filled with little points of burning white that would light up nearly the entire sky. There might be an unfathomable, empty distance between you and the sources of that light, but you were still overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of matter in the universe — the stars and planets and comets and who knew what else. 

“I know a very cliché answer to that,” Xanthus smirked. 

It took you a moment to realize what he was referring to, your thoughts still on the infinitely expanding universe. “The most beautiful thing, right after you, of course,” you said, beating him to the compliment. 

He laughed, leaning in slowly to kiss your lips. Xanthus’ lips were always soft against yours, his kisses tender and calm as if he wanted to pour as much of his affection for you into them as he could. He always took his time, cherishing the moment shared between you. 

Only once had he kissed you in desperation, terror and relief cursing through him as he held you in his arms after the disastrous mission to take down the Trimedian. You were still recovering from that. Dontis was gone on vacation with his hunter friend, the others had dispersed to live their lives, free from looking over their shoulders quite as much as before.

Xanthus was struggling, to put it mildly. What had happened had left a deep scar in his heart that could only heal with time. Sometimes when you awoke during the night, you saw him scrub at his hands compulsively as if trying to wash away Audric’s blood that he could still feel clinging to him. 

“I can’t—” he had choked after waking from a nightmare, your arms firmly wrung around him, holding him together, “I can’t escape it. I can’t get it off of me. I can’t forget how he felt under me as I— as I—” You had never heard anyone sob as brokenly as Xanthus had that night.

His laugh was a welcome change to the sorrow clinging to him. You beamed at him as he broke the kiss, and placed your head on his shoulder to stare at the sky alongside him. 

Taking a sip of your tea, you hummed in appreciation as you tasted the sweetness of honey Xanthus had taken care to add. “You remembered,” you laughed fondly, placing another kiss against his neck. 

“Of course I did, my love,” he answered, moving his arm to stroke along your side. “You told me you preferred your tea with honey only yesterday. Did you expect me to forget?”

“I mentioned it in passing.”

“So? It is important to me all the same,” he said, tilting his head to rest his cheek at the top of your head. “It really is breathtaking,” he whispered after a while of gazing at the stars. 

You hummed, taking another sip of your tea. “Why ‘Xanthus’?” you asked suddenly, breaking the silence beginning to settle over you again.

“Why what?” he wondered.

“Your name, I mean,” you clarified, “Why did you choose ‘Xanthus’?”

“Oh,” he chuckled, “I— no one’s asked me that before.” He paused as if contemplating something.

“You don’t need to answer if you don’t want to.”

“It’s not that, love,“ Xanthus reassured you, moving his hand to hold yours, “It’s just very poetic in a way, and I never thought I would get to reveal that part of myself to anyone.”

The stars had lost their sway over you, and you glanced at Xanthus, seeing him blush. It was an adorable sight, but you did not dare tell him, choosing instead to kiss his lips. “I’d like to hear it, if you’re willing to share.” The look of pure adoration in his eyes made your breath hitch for a moment. 

“I’d love to,” he said, clearing his throat nervously. You moved to rest your head on his shoulder again, absentmindedly tracing small circles into the back of his hand with your thumb. “Have you read the Iliad?”

Despite yourself, the question made you laugh. “‘Rage — Goddess, sing the rage of Peleus’ son Achilles.’ Only in translation.”

“Well, there is a river flowing outside the city of Troy, the one who tried drowning Achilles in book twenty-one it was, I think. The river-god was angry at him because all the Trojans he killed were clogging up the river, tainting the water red with blood. It was called Scamander by the mortals and Xanthus by the gods, according to Homer. And I believe it was Seneca—”

“The stoic philosopher?” you asked.

“Exactly. He said in his Troades something like ‘He — Achilles — choked rivers with corpses, and Xanthus, seeking his way, wandered slowly along with bloody stream.’ I always thought the name was fitting,” Xanthus concluded, his faraway gaze remaining fixed on the stars that had stopped being of interest to you long ago. 

You squeezed his hand, raising it to your lips in a small gesture of comfort.

“I have done horrible things,” he whispered, clenching his jaw and blinking away tears that started to gather in his eyes, “and although I try to leave the past behind with every new name and identity I take, I never quite succeed to wash the blood off of my hands. I think it’s fitting. My past has never stopped tainting me, but opposed to Achilles’ Xanthus, I filled the river with corpses myself.”

You set down your cup on the windowsill in front of you, gathering Xanthus into your arms. “My love,” you began, running your fingers through his hair and peppering soft kisses on his face until he broke into a small smile, “my beautiful, kind, adorable love.” 

Xanthus blushed, trying to hide his face in your shoulder, but you tilted his chin up instead, making him look into your eyes.

“You’re everything to me,” you said earnestly, “the kindest being I have ever encountered, the most relentlessly hard-working to assure the people you care about are safe, the most inexhaustibly generous, the most loving, my love. I have never felt so adored, Xanthus, and I love you with all my heart — every part of you, present, past, and future — no matter what was and will be.”

“Thank you,” he said quietly, pulling you into a crushing embrace before the two of you got comfortable on the couch once more, stargazing until the morning sun hid their twinkling light from view again.

[cute-little-crow]

Holy shit I've just read your "is it in yet" and YOU DID SO. GOOD. SO. DELICIOUS. fANTASTICAL!! I also saw your recent posts about struggling getting it out but I assure you it's MORE than good!!! It's better than I could convey with words!!! To the point I needed to scream this out the moment I finished reading!! Which- by the way, took me some time because my cheeks were flushed at the end of every single one of it I needed breaks to compose myself in between! Again, SO GOOD. MORE THAN GOOD.

Thank you for the overwhelming amount of dom side of the LIs and huge shot of brat taming... A part of me died inside and immediately resurrected in 200% power from how good it is. Please excuse me because this might be a lengthy and feral fangirl I am sorry in advance

I am not even a Rafayel girlie BUT MY BRAIN STUTTERED SO HARD JUST BY READING THE FIRST DIALOGUE. BY THE TIME HE SEETHED THAT BREATHY "Brat..." I AM JUST??? DEAD. BRAIN SHORT CIRCUITED. PLEASE TURN ME INTO BRAINLESS LITTLE F- Cough cough. I am so so so incredibly beyond happy to see harsh dom Rafayel portrayed! Totally melting in this darker side of him which I totally craved since reading his omnipotent perception...🫠🫠🫠AND you totally nailed it! Got me feral the fact you still add on the cute little nickname despite his seemingly harsh and mean exterior but he's still a softie just for us and it makes me feel so much things... Bless...

Now Sylus. As my obsession that hasn't seemed to calm down even after 2 whole months with his existence I am down so bad for this man I can't even. THE ABSOLUTE DOMINATION THIS GUY HAS!!! THE CALM DEMEANOR!!! WONDERFUL!! SO DAMN WONDERFUL! The fact he was mid-marking us already gets me sobbing from the getgo. Yes please, more please. The chastise and condescending in his voice?? I can totally imagine it all the while he's ruining us. The description was so so so hot you wrote it amazingly. Love me delivering lord with overstimulation and creampies yes yes yes yes 🫠🫠🫠 I've said it but I'm saying it again but your description were phenomenal I somehow really liked the part mentioning us being wrung dry like a used towel because the objectification is *chef kiss*. The wolfish grin was the end of me I went absolutely feral when I read that part oh what a wonderful thing to be devoured and put into place by the big bad wolf himself 🥰🥰

AND DEAR GOODNESS THE FREAK SWITCH XAVIER HAS. As my initial favorite before Sylus came crashing in I am so not normal for him. One moment he looked as innocent as a little bunny and another he's devouring you like a beast- while still fucking you like a bunny in heat. Girl dinner. PLEASE?? THE FACT OUR HANDS WERE PINNED USELESSLY BELOW US?? THAT'S SO HOT YOU'RE A GENIUS. The teasing touches on our spine the bunching up of our hair into the best hairtie ever for a ponytail the whispers in our ear BARK BARK BARK. The seemingly degrading way he spoke of himself initially for 'not' delivering!! The gentle guides despite not so gentle treatment!! The subtle encouragement and praise!! The absolute feralness and yet the fact he still hold back to make it fully enjoyable for us and to never hurt us for real! *Sighs dreamily* Xavier the man you are. And the writer YOU are!

Last but definitely not least, Zayne.... ZAYNE. Dear gosh my heart skips a beat when you wrote about him opening his eyes. The immediate roleplay of a responsible and totally competent doctor got me alsjalksdkdnd. How composed and totally knowing he is that we're fully bullshitting our bratty way, one he dealt numerous times already in the past present and future... How confident he is of himself and his knowledge of us!! Intelligence is always hot. THE TEMPERATURE PLAAAAY THE MAGIC TOUCH YOU ARE DR. ZAYNE. The diagnosis killed me, brattitude is such an amazing word I love it so much I want this disease and be cured over and over by him. AND THE LAST DIALOGUE??? I DON'T KNOW WHAT ABOUT THAT, probably from how absolute of an order and how authoritative it is that made my brain shut down completely upon reading it. I am on my knees.

I hope you'll soon recover from your emotional crash and I wish you well! I hope you'll have a great day today, if not tomorrow, or the days after and so on. Thank you so much for the wonderful writing you have blessed us upon on the internet!

I read this last night and very nearly burst into tears 😭😭 I’ve read it over so many times… thank you for writing this, anon. I am genuinely so grateful to read feedback and you went all out with yours.

I want everyone to have a good time with my fics and that I gave you this kind of reaction makes me so damn proud.

I love you I love you I love you 💗💗

[iamdeceived]

Caresses.

A/n: Hello, I came to wish you a good reading!

Warning: A few moments with Rocket's traumatizing past. (WE HAVE NO SPOILERS FOR THE THIRD MOVIE!)

(I didn't mention gender)

🦋Gender neutral reader🦋

*♡*

You realized there was something wrong with Rocket. He looked…sad.

You've never seen a raccoon so crestfallen. Rocket didn't joke, didn't smile, didn't speak to anyone. He was just in his little corner tinkering with his technologies.

You looked at him with a sinking heart. You love Rocket. He is very important to you. Seeing him so sad breaks her heart.

At one point in the day, you sighed deeply and went to sit next to the raccoon.

"Hey Y/n, could you pass me that piece that's on your side?" You gently pointed to a square piece of metal. "this piece ?" He agreed.

His voice was low, almost a whisper. Unlike the always scandalous tone you've grown accustomed to hearing in his voice.

"Rocket…" He stopped what he was doing, and looked at you. His eyes didn't have their usual sparkle. You knew something was wrong with him.

"Are you well?" He quickly turned his attention back to his trinkets. "What a stupid question, Y/n! Of course I'm fine!"

Something was wrong.

The truth is that Peter and he were having another one of their daily silly arguments. It happened so often that nobody cared anymore. So Rocket ended up saying something really offensive to Peter, who returned the insult by talking about what hurts Rocket. Your past.

Rocket is still very sensitive to everything that happened. But he wouldn't bend over backwards to show he was hurt.

But you noticed.

"Was it because of what Pete said?" He was startled. His shoulders slump. Damn smart human! Who told you to know how to read his thoughts that way?"You don't have to lie or hide anything from me, Rocky! You know I love you a lot, and you know I'll support you!"

His voice cracked. Almost like he was going to break down in tears right there in front of you. "Peter is an idiot! He talks too much!"

You reached out your hand to touch Rocket's ears. You wanted to pet him. You've always imagined yourself doing this. Rocket's fur felt very soft and was very shiny. It must feel wonderful to stroke its fur.

Before you could actually touch him, Rocket turned sharply. The memories came too quickly to her head. The changes in your body. The pain, the despair. His first reaction was to bite you as hard as he could. Blood trickled down his hand.

You startled, and with a cry you pulled away from him.

"Oh shit… look, I really didn't want to do this… it's just… I… I…"

He turned around, picked up a cloth that was on his desk and offered it to you.

"I'm sorry for hurting you… it wasn't my intention!"

The traumatic memories still swirled in the raccoon's head. He remembered the tests, and how he was used. How no one really cared about him until that moment.

Now he had friends. Before, he was just scared.

You wiped your bloody hand and sat down on your thighs on the floor. He wrung his hands nervously. His ears were cocked down.

You understood everything.

"You have a lot of traumas, don't you?" He nodded his head slightly. "I'm sorry Rocky… I shouldn't try to touch you without telling you or asking first… it was my mistake!" He dropped his eyes.

Before you could have time to think, Rocket grabbed your right hand with both of his paws, and placed it over his head.

The feel of soft raccoon fur on her fingers was wonderful. You massaged his head, running your fingers over his fluffy ears.

His ears pricked up and down in accordance with your touch. He let out a satisfied sigh.

"You know… It's not so bad!" You smiled at him. He smiled at you.

"I can pet you whenever you want, as long as you don't rip a piece out of my hand when I try!"

He laughed.

"I promise!"

[volklana]

I’m Falling Again (Part II)

Title comes from this song:

Masterlist: can be found here:

Summary: You watched the love of your life turn into a pile of ash before your eyes. Finding comfort in the only other person who understands your pain turns into so much more than either of you could ever imagine.

Warnings: Bucky x Reader. Steve x Reader

Read Part One Here: I’m Falling Again

“Baby, it’s me,” he said softly and you gasped out a sob, “When can I come see you?” 

You were pacing the steps of your cabin, the air was cold and you watched your breath rise into the air.

Bucky would be here any time now, you wrung your hands nervously. Five years of mourning, of crying yourself to sleep and missing him were coming down to these next few moments.

You twirled his dog tags in your fingers, willing your heart to settle. 

You could see the headlights in the distance winding up the driveway and Bucky hadn’t even stepped out of the car when you launched yourself into his arms, revelling in the familiarity of his scent that you genuinely had thought you would never smell again.

His arms locked around you and he buried his nose in your hair “I’m here, sweetheart, I’m here.”

You hadn’t even realised you were crying, until he freed his dog tags from the confines of your knitted sweater, “You’re still wearing these?” he was teary eyed and looking at you in disbelief.

“In five years I never took them off. Not once- not even” you trailed off, catching yourself but it didn’t matter because he pulled you flush against him again. 

You hadn’t even noticed Steve until he stepped out of the car and began to gather his and Bucky’s bags from the car, a curt nod all you received before he made his way up the steps into the cabin.

“I can’t believe you live all the way out here y/n,” Bucky mused warming himself by the fire, “when Steve told me about this place I thought he was having me on,” 

“I have chickens out the back,” you laughed and Bucky joined in freely. You  had once owned a goldfish that you won in a fair that had lasted exactly two weeks before you accidentally killed it by overfeeding it, Bucky joked you should never be allowed to keep pets ever again.

 “A lot has changed since you’ve been gone Buck,” you added sadly.

“Not you,” he told you truthfully “You’re as beautiful as ever. Stronger I can see that you’ve had to fight, but you are still my beautiful girl.”

Your eyes welled and Steve stood from where he was sitting on the end of the sofa.

“I’m going to get some sleep, it’s been a long day. Night pal,” he patted Bucky on the back “It’s so great to have you back,” he swooped down to give you a gentle hug “Night y/n, I’ll see you in the morning,” he made his way into the tiny spare room, and you watched him go, your heart followed him down the corridor until he closed the door, shutting it out and it retreated back to the living room. 

“I’m proud of you,” Bucky said breaking the silence “I’m proud of the life you’ve managed to build for yourself.”

“I couldn’t have done it without Steve,” you told him honestly “He quite literally held me together, Buck. I would have given up completely without him, I was a mess.”

“That’s funny,” Bucky said scratching his chin, “He literally said the same thing about you.”

“I’m glad you had each other,” he added “If I couldn’t be here I’m glad Steve was.”

You couldn’t sleep, tossing and turning. Bucky’s gentle snores filling your room, as silent tears slipped down your cheeks. 

You were afraid to close your eyes, afraid that this had all been a dream, that when you woke Bucky would be gone, never having returned and all that would be left was your messed up, confused feelings for Steve. 

God, Steve who had literally held you together all them years. Steve who had made love to you in this very bed merely months ago, who had been your light in the darkest, darkest of days. 

You crept downstairs, not wanting to wake a peaceful Bucky, but startled at the sight of Steve rucksack on his back attempting to pull his boots on.

“Steve?” you whispered and he had the decency to look ashamed.

“I can’t do this y/n,” he whispered “I can’t be here where it all happened and watch you be with him.”

You reached out for him and he let you take his hand “This is hard for me too Steve. I’m so confused.” 

“I love Bucky, he will always be my best friend, but I can’t look him in the face while I feel this way for you y/n. What we did was awful. I can’t forgive myself.” 

You pulled him to you in a bone crushing hug “I’m so sorry Steve. I never meant for any of this to happen. But it did and I love Bucky, I will always love Bucky but I am in love with you too.”

You had never said it out loud before but he knew, surely he knew? 

He grasped the material at the back of your shirt to steady himself “I love you too, y/n.” He admitted into your hair.

“Don’t go,” you pleaded.

“I have to,” he cried “Bucky doesn’t deserve this y/n. We’re only going to end up hurting him and he doesn’t deserve it.” 

A creak from the top of the stairs had you and Steve snapping your necks to follow the sound and a wide eyed Bucky stood watching you expressionless as you and Steve broke apart.

“Bucky,” you cried feeling your legs go weak and crumple from under you.

He was down in an instant hoisting you up and carrying you over to the couch, while Steve fetched you a glass of water, which you sipped gladly.

Bucky paced the floor in front of you, Steve stood at the other end of the room completely.

“When did this begin?” he demanded.

“A few months ago,” you responded, “We never meant for it to happen Bucky.”

“A few months ago?” he repeated “And there was nothing before then?”

“Nothing!” Steve replied his tone was begging, eyes glassy and watching Bucky in a panic, “You know I love you Buck.” 

Bucky examined him for a moment “But you love her too?” Steve wanted to lie, all he had to do was say he didn’t, but he locked eyes with you, so small and terrified looking, vulnerable in the way you wrapped your arms around yourself and he couldn’t do it, he couldn’t lie to you or Bucky and simply nodded, tears finally spilling from his eyes.

“But I will not stand in your way, I told you y/n, I promised you I would not get in the way,” your face softened as you examined him.

“Seems the only person in the way here is me,” Bucky concluded softly.

It was Steve who moved first,”Bucky I’ll leave. Please I’ll do anything you need me to do I’ll never contact either of you again,” he was on his knees in front of Bucky begging.

“She doesn’t want that Steve,” Bucky cried, “I don’t want that,” he confessed.

“We just got you back, I can’t lose you again,” there was a tenderness in the way Steve was reaching for Bucky, a confliction in Bucky’s face as he reached for Steve and pulled him up, “I’m not going anywhere,” he told him so gently you almost missed it.

They were having a silent conversation between their eyes, Bucky’s face contorted into something you couldn’t read before he pulled Steve into a hug, and the way Steve sank into the embrace like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. 

You had always suspected there had maybe at one point been something..else between Steve and Bucky but neither of them had ever confided that to you and you had never pried. Steve was grasping at the fabric of Bucky’s shirt to hold him upright and your heart was pounding in your chest with the need to comfort him.

You were rooted to your spot on the couch, biting the inside of your cheek, you wanted to cry, you wanted Bucky to hold you too, to tell you he wouldn’t leave you either, you clasped his dog tags in your hand, an action not missed on him as he broke apart from Steve. 

“I need time,” he announced looking between you both, “I feel like my whole world has been turned upside down. You’ve had five years. I’ve had a day,” he made his way to the coat rack and pulled on his jacket and began fumbling with his boots, “I need some air,” he told you and descended down the steps of your cottage and into the night air. 

Steve stood rooted to the spot watching the spot where Bucky had disappeared.

“Steve,” you tried lip wobbling and he rushed to you pulling you into an all encompassing hug.

“Have we lost him Steve?” you cried into his shoulder, he stroked your hair so tenderly you wanted to melt into him.

“Listen to me,” he soothed “When he comes back, he’s going to ask you to choose between me or him, sweet girl you have to choose him.”

“What if I can’t do that Steve?” you cried.

“You have to y/n, you have to pick him.”

“But I love you Steve. Does that mean nothing to you?” 

He broke away from the hug but kept his hands on your face, you could see the tears in his eyes “It means everything. Everything, to me. But I refuse to be the reason you lose him again.”

You couldn’t meet his eye “But what if I don’t want to lose you?” 

He closed the distance meeting your lips and you pulled him closer. If this was the last time you got to kiss these lips, hold this precious man in your arms you wanted to remember it forever.

Steve was pacing the floor waiting for Bucky, you turned his dog tags in your hands as you watched out the window for him. It had been two hours, dawn was breaking and he still hadn’t returned. What if he had decided to just keep walking and never came back. You thought about his words, “Seems the only person in the way here is me,” your heart ached. Bucky had been through so much and you had swore you would never add a single ounce of hurt to him, you had broken the one promise you ever made him. Even though you had thought he was gone forever, you hadn’t looked at a single soul in those five years, not one soul except Steve. Would that even mean a thing to him? Surely that had to count for something?

You had been a good girlfriend to Bucky, you were there for every setback, every nightmare, every moment he didn’t feel good enough. Even when you thought he was dead, you mourned him, all consumed in grief.

But yet it was selfish to want him and want Steve too. They had lost so much time, you refused to be the reason they lost anymore. In that moment your mind was made up. If Bucky was going to make you choose you would and neither of them would like the outcome, because you were going to choose neither one over the other. You had been alone before and it hadn’t killed you, you were almost certain you could do it again.  

“I’m going to look for him,” Steve announced breaking your thought. 

“You can’t,” you countered and Steve looked frantic.

“He’s out there hurting, because of us! I can’t sit here and do nothing!” he snapped.

“You think this is easy for me Steve?” you argued back, “I feel like the most disgusting person on the planet. He was the love of my life.”

“Why couldn’t you just let me leave?” he shouted “Why couldn’t you just choose him like I told you to?”

The look of hurt that flashed across your face had Steve wishing he could immediately take it back as you shouted “Fuck you Steve!” but Bucky’s voice rang out across the room “Stop it guys.”

You wanted to run to him but you were afraid he would reject you.

“Come here,” he said softly and you ran to him, wrapping your arms around him, he smelled of pine and damp leaves, his hair slightly damp from the morning dew. 

“You love me?” he asked softly, stubble against your cheek.

“Always,” you cried “Always.”

“But you love Steve too, right?” you didn’t answer so he continued “I’m not angry sweetheart but I need to hear you say it.” 

“Yeah Buck,” you choked “I love him too.” 

“Come here,” Bucky beckoned with his eyes to Steve and he moved over, Bucky clasped his hand in his, “I don’t know how, but we’ll figure this out. I’m not prepared to lose either one of you.” 

Him and Steve shared a look that said a thousand more than words ever could. 

The next afternoon Steve chopped wood in the garden and you made a pot of coffee. Bucky was still sleeping in the bedroom. He’d pulled you as close as physically possible when he finally climbed into bed, peppering kisses to you and gasping when he pinned you beneath him and lowered himself into you. You cried out as you came, running your nails down his back, there would be all the time to figure out everything with Steve but in that moment you had been consumed with the feel of Bucky in your arms.

“I’m going to take a walk,” you told Steve as you passed him, “Bucky’s still sleeping but I made coffee.” 

He was awkward but he acknowledged what you said.

“You’ll be here when I get back, won’t you?” you asked uncertain and his face softened.

“I’m not going anywhere.” 

That was all the confirmation you needed and you began the descent down your driveway.

“She’s gone for a walk,” Steve said shyly, placing a log in the burner.

Bucky looked peaceful. Hair tossed from sleep and Steve’s heart hammered in his chest. 

“I didn’t know Steve,” Bucky told him honestly, “I didn’t know you still felt this way.”

“It wasn’t the right time when you first came back, and then you fell for y/n, and I wasn’t going to get in the way of that,” Steve rolled his eyes, the irony of that sentence not being wasted on him now after everything that had taken place. 

“How did this happen Steve?” Bucky asked reaching out for him.

“We had nothing, Buck,nothing except each other. You were gone, and we were so lonely. You didn’t see her, she absolutely fell apart and she thought she needed me, but it was the other way around Buck, it was me who needed her.” 

“I know how that feels,” Bucky mused “I’ve always needed her too.” 

“I promise I didn’t mean to fall in love with her Buck, I wanted her to forget me, to forget I ever touched her and choose you. But she was too stubborn to listen.”

Bucky huffed out a laugh because you were nothing if not stubborn, “She’s brought us back together though,” he hummed, brushing a stray piece of hair away from Steve’s face, Steve smiled in agreement, eyes flickering to Bucky’s lips and closing the distance to place a soft kiss on them. 

You came home to a strangely domestic setting in your cabin, the radio was on in the kitchen, Bucky was peeling potatoes and Steve was tending to the fire as usual.

You shrugged off your coat and shoes and made your way into the living room unsure of what to do. Steve smiled your way and your heart fluttered in your chest, as you passed by into the kitchen. Bucky dried his hands and beckoned for you to come for a hug.

“Everything is going to be okay,” he whispered, and you melted into his embrace “We’re going to look after you. No one is going anywhere.” 

Bucky was having a nightmare, screaming out in his sleep. You had been here before many times, all you could do was try to call his name calmly until he woke. You had startled him once and had suffered the consequence of a nearly broken wrist, and the shame of Bucky not being able to meet your eye for days, despite how much you reassured him it wasn’t his fault. 

Steve burst through the door frantic Bucky’s name dying on his lips when you flew up from bed holding your hand out to stop him.

“Steve, we have to give him space to wake up,” you whispered in an attempt to hold him in place, if Bucky hurt him he would never forgive himself.

“Steve!” Bucky screamed in his sleep and Steve made to sidestep you, only to be met with your palms against his bare chest, “Please Steve, please trust me,” you begged.

But Bucky’s trashing continued, screaming into the night. Steve pushed passed you grasping Bucky, begging him to wake up. You watched it happen in slow motion, Bucky’s metal arm shot out clasping Steve by the neck, and Steve wrestled to free himself.

“Bucky,” you called trying to pry his hand open, “Bucky it’s me. You’re safe. Let him go.” 

Steve struggled to pry the hand off his neck, struggling for air, face turning purple. You grasped Bucky’s face in your hands willing him to snap out of it before Steve lost consciousness. 

You didn’t register the sting of the backhand across your face until you were scrambling to your feet to make sure Steve was alright, he was kneeling on the ground hand resting on his neck, gulping in air, but he was free. Bucky was sitting upright in the bed his face a combination of horror and fear, sweat gleaming on his brow, his chest rising and falling rapidly trying to regulate his breathing and pounding heart. 

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” you reassured him “Breathe just breathe love.” 

You helped Steve to his feet, and Bucky backed away from you both, that same look of horror etched across his face. 

“I’m so sorry,” he was repeating backing further away until his back hit the wall. 

“We’re okay, Buck, it’s okay,” Steve tried to soothe taking a step towards him but Bucky held his arm out. 

“I hurt you,” he shot “No don’t Steve, don’t come any closer.” 

Steve ignored him and bound over to him anyway, pulling him flush against him, Bucky sagged against him, Steve holding his weight up.

You rubbed your hand across your face, you were bleeding, Bucky hadn’t noticed, maybe you could make it to the bathroom before he noticed. 

“Y/n, you’re bleeding,” he cried and both he and Steve spun to face you.

“It’s nothing Bucky, it’s nothing,” you reassured but he was breaking free from Steve’s arms and pounding across the room to you, he reached for you gingerly and tentatively wiped his thumb across your cheek, retreating in horror as if he had been burned with the trail of blood across his thumb, while Steve gently cupped your face to examine you.

“It wasn’t your fault,” you cried reaching for him but he shook out of your touch.

“Please don’t do this,” you begged “Bucky, look at me!”

His eyes gently rose to meet yours and you surged forward, pulling him to you and kissing him with everything you had, he responded melting into the kiss, breaking your kiss with Bucky you reached for Steve, and he encircled you and Bucky with his huge body, he met your lips gently, carding his fingers through your hair, and when you pulled away he did the same to Bucky, you felt him visibly relax into the kiss and when they pulled apart his eyes landed on you, the look of horror replaced with a blown out look of lust. 

They were gentle at first, taking turns and making sure you were okay. But gentleness was soon replaced with need and you were panting as you came undone again, body sore and sweat dripping from every pore, Bucky was pounding into you while Steve was collapsed on the bed spent, he bit down hard on the place where your neck met your shoulder and you cried out as he came, collapsing on top of you as he did. You were physically exhausted, your body ached but couldn’t help the whine that left your lips when he pulled out. 

You scooted in the bed to make room for him to lay down beside you, Steve opened his arms for you to climb in and Bucky spooned you from behind. You knew you couldn’t lie here for long, you needed to shower but for the moment you relished in the feel of four strong arms holding you in place.

Tagging:  @spookyparadisesheep  @jbbarnesgirl  @salvatoreitmeanssaviour 

  @princesscornbread  @loki-laufeyson-1054 @firstcashheroathlete @missvelvetsstuff   nana1000night   sapphire-rogers   @sarahrogersevans   @steverogerssimpp @spudinthemud   @mrsragnarlodbrok @buckgasms @miss-patriciah-maximoff   @hellomissmabel  @knittingknerdy @shamvictoria11 @buckysberrie @assembletheimagines @dearthofequanimity @wellthatsrandomkek @mitra-k-w @nikkitia7 @fantasticimpaladoctor @feelmyroarrrr @sebseyesandbuckysthighs @andhiseyesweregreen @frickin-bats @buckyywiththegoodhair @iiharu-kunii @bellenuit45-blog @james-bionic-barnes @avengerofyourheart @jaegers-and-kaijus   princess76179  

[sparklypinkflightsuit]

Star Crossed: Chapter Two

Pairing: Detective David Loki x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Cheating, Intimacy Issues, Slow Burn, Reader is in an Established Relationship (for now), Sexual Themes, Eventual Smut. Investigative Inaccuracies. I think that’s it?

Summary: Loki comforts you, and some shocking information comes to light.

- Chapter One Here -

————————————-

“I can’t tell if it’s the fiancé in these pictures or not, but none of them have her face in them.” Rodger stated, pointing out the dozens of nude photos on Carters laptop.

Loki leaned in to inspect them.

“No, it’s not her. The woman in these pictures has a tattoo on her thigh. Miss (Y/L/N) doesn’t.” He stated.

Rodger quirked his eyebrow at Loki, “How do you know that, Detective?”

Loki flushed suddenly, “I uh, went to question her this evening and she was wearing shorts, I didn’t see much before she wrapped up but I would have noticed a large tattoo I think.” He shrugged.

Rodger shrugged too, and continued; “Ok, that’s not all. We had a look at his emails to see if we could get any indication as to where he went, and we found these.” He said clicking open the email folder.

Loki cursed under his breath as he scanned hundreds of emails hidden in a folder labelled “Business Confidential”.

The emails were between Carter and an email address labelled with the alias “Miss Kitty”, and were all sexual.

“Cheating fuck.” Loki breathed. “You find anything else?”

Rodger shook his head, “Nah that’s it. Not sure if it’s much to go by. You want me to try and trace this Miss Kitty’s IP address? Might take a few days but I can get cracking.”

Loki nodded, “Yeah, call me if you find anything else in the meanwhile.”

The drive home that night was plagued with how to break the news to you. He knew he had to as you might know who Miss Kitty was, and this might indicate where Carter had gone, but if you didn’t know he was cheating it would be a very painful conversation.

The next morning Loki knocked on your door with two cups of coffee in his hands.

You opened the door and let him in.

“Morning.” You smiled.

“Morning (Y/N), sorry for coming by so early. I brought this as a peace offering.” He handed you the cup of coffee.

You laughed lightly, taking the cup from him, “Thanks David.”

Loki walked into the living room and waited for you to gesture for him to sit.

“Any news?” You asked hopefully, sitting opposite him.

Loki sighed, his head dropped to the floor before he eventually made eye contact with you. “Yeah, we managed to get into the laptop.”

“Okay, did you find anything useful?” Your eyes lit up, but you sensed the hesitation in his voice.

“I’m not sure, there’s something we need to talk to you about, we’re not sure if you already know or not…”

“What is it?” You asked softly, your heart racing with uncertainty.

Loki cleared his throat before continuing, unsure how to put it into words, although he had rehearsed this the entire drive over.

“Were you… aware that Carter was having an affair?”

His words knocked the air out of you as you just blinked at him, unable to find words or process what he was saying.

“What… what makes you think he was having an affair?” You huffed a forced laugh, almost insulted by the insinuation.

“We found pictures on his laptop of another woman, and emails going back and forth between him and someone who goes by the name of ‘Miss Kitty’.” Loki offered apologetically.

You stood up, your hand covering your mouth as you paced up and down, trying to figure out how you hadn’t noticed.

Loki sat awkwardly, unsure whether to offer a comforting pat on the back or to just let you have a moment.

You turned to him and wrung your hands to together, a sudden look of horrified guilt plastered on your face. “It’s all my fault.” You whispered.

“What do you mean?” Loki asked, standing.

“We…. Haven’t been intimate in a long time.” You looked ashamed, and you covered your face with both hands and groaned.

“Hey… hey!” Loki shushed, gently grabbing your wrists and pulling your hands down. He looked at you sternly. “This is not your fault. You can’t blame yourself for someone else’s infidelity.”

“I should have seen this coming.” You sighed. You sat back down, head back in your hands.

It was quiet for a long moment before Loki spoke again.

“Do you love him?”

Your head shot up and you looked at Loki, surprised at the question.

You nodded slowly, “Yeah, I love him. Just… not the way I did when we were younger.” Your eyes dropped to your hands.

Loki nodded, he understood what you meant.

“Are you mad at him for doing what he did?” He probed.

You thought for a moment, “No… how can I be, he’s only human. I just wish he would have told me, or ended it or something.” You sighed.

“Why didn’t you? End it, I mean.”

“Because I care about him still, we’ve been through a lot together, and I can’t imagine him not being around. I know that makes me a completely sad idiot, but….” You laughed, frustrated, shrugged dramatically.

Loki kept quiet for a moment, looking at you, “I think you owe it to yourself to be in a relationship that fulfils you, in all aspects.” Loki said, sitting back in his seat.

You felt slightly insulted by this, and couldn’t understand why this man who barely knew you was giving you relationship advice.

“With all due respect, Detective, you don’t know what he and I have been through together. So I don’t appreciate you telling me what I owe to myself. For all you know I could be a horrible person, I might deserve this.” You ranted, growing quickly frustrated and tears stinging the corner of your eyes.

“I’m sorry I-“ Loki made to apologise but you cut him off.

“Also, what has any of this got to do with finding him? I understand him cheating might mean he’s run off with this woman, but why on Earth do you care why I didn’t end things the moment they started going stale? Or if I’m mad at him for fucking someone else? What has that got to do with anything-“ Loki had gotten out of his seat and closed the distance between you, kneeling in front of you, gently grabbing your upper arms and looking you in the eyes.

“Hey, breathe. I’m sorry, I overstepped, but I need you to breathe for me now, okay?” He blinked hard a couple times and breathed slowly in and out so you’d copy him.

You hadn’t realised just how worked up you’d gotten, tears streaming down your face. Your breathing was shaky but you copied him until you had calmed down.

You stayed like that, breathing and staring at one another for a long time. You noticed how his big blue eyes seemed to swim like pools in front of you. The distraction helped, and after a minute or two you whispered, “I’m sorry, I know you were just trying to help.”

“No I overstepped, I shouldn’t have presumed anything. But for what it’s worth, and from what limited knowledge I have of you, I’m pretty certain you’re not a terrible person and you don’t deserve this. As a detective I’m almost never wrong.” He smiled at you, his eyes crinkling and dimples forming in his cheeks.

You laughed, rolling your eyes lightly.

You thanked Loki again for bringing coffee and for breaking the news to you in person, you confirmed you didn’t know anyone with a thigh tattoo or that went by any nicknames relating to cats, and he left to continue his investigation.

His next stop was Carters office. He parked his car over the street from the office block and walked over to the glass doors. Inside reception he waited for the receptionist to finish her call, before showing his badge and asking to be directed to where Carter Benson worked. She told him to go up to the 3rd floor, so Loki got in the elevator.

“Hold the door!” a woman with a sultry voice called.

Loki stopped the elevator door from closing and let the woman in. She was dressed in a button down blouse and a short pencil skirt, with long brunette hair.

“Thanks.” She flashed a dazzling white smile, and two long tanned legs carried her to stand next to Loki. He smiled politely.

“You new here?” Voice like butter as she turned to look at Loki.

He didn’t say anything but he took out his badge and held it up for her.

“Oh you’re a cop huh? Someone around here in trouble?” She almost purred. This woman clearly had all the confidence in the world, and good for her, but she wasn’t picking up that Loki was in no way interested.

“No ma’am, just conducting a missing persons investigation. Perhaps you can help me. I’m looking for a Carter Benson, do you know him or work with him?”

The smile dropped from the woman’s face.

“I work with him. I did wonder where he was the last two days.” She now looked straight ahead, waiting for the doors to open. Loki noted her attitude as strange.

“Ok well if you think of anything that might be useful, please give us a call.” He said.

The woman didn’t say anything, and as soon as the doors opened she walked out and took a left hurriedly. That is when Loki noticed the tattoo on her left thigh.

Loki questioned most of the staff in Carters office block, none providing anything particularly helpful to the investigation, just that Carter was a great guy and a lot of fun to be around.

He knocked on the last door in the office block and the leggy brunette opened the door, startled.

“Hello again ma’am, we didn’t get to properly introduce ourselves. I’m Detective David Loki.” He plastered on a fake smile and held out his hand. The woman shook his hand and began to look more at ease.

“Hello Detective, sorry yeah, I was running late for a meeting.” She apologised.

“No problem, people gotta work. I just need to ask you a few questions regarding Carter Benson if you don’t mind?” He was going to ask her regardless of her answer.

She summoned for him to enter the small office and closed the door. Loki sat down in front of her desk.

“How can I help, Detective?” She said coldly, a stark contrast to how she was in the elevator.

“Could I start by getting your name, for noting purposes?”

She cleared her throat and nodded, “Of course, my name is Katelyn Edwards.”

Loki nodded, jotting her name down on his note pad.

“Thank you Miss Edwards… Mrs Edwards? Sorry, I don’t want to assume.” He probed.

She laughed, “Miss, never been married.”

“Thank you. So could you please tell me what know about Mr Benson? Is he happy, work life okay, home life okay?”

“We’re not that close, but from what I know he seems happy at work.” She shrugs, nonchalant, “but I think at home it’s a different story, he never seems excited to leave the office like everyone else.”

“Oh? So when does everyone typically leave the office by?” Loki sat forward.

“Well our work day ends at 4pm.” She confirmed.

Loki struck that as odd, the drive from the house to Carters work was 20 minutes on a good day, with traffic maybe 40, so how was it taking Carter an hour and a half to get home every day?

“Thank you Miss Edwards, I think that will be all for now.” He got up to leave.

“Oh, Detective? I have to tell you because I know you’re probably going to review the security tapes, but Carter is known for making his rounds with the ladies. I may have fallen for his charms at one point, but that was a long time ago.” She confirmed, and Loki thought she seemed honest.

He nodded, “Thank you.” And left.

Loki decided to wait until 4 when everyone cleared the office, and trailed Katelyn back to her home. He thought it had to be her, with Katelyn being similar to Kitty, and the tattoo matching the pictures on his laptop. She pulled into her drive about 15 minutes later and Loki pulled up behind a car further down the street. He made a note of her address and that there were no other vehicles on the property, and no garage to hide one in.

He would delve further into who this Katelyn Edwards was in the morning.

Back at your house, you busied yourself with a painting you’d been working on, but you struggled to really get into it, your mind elsewhere. You tried to push Carter to the back of your mind, you so desperately needed to stop thinking the worst as you so often did, so pushed all of your emotions out onto your canvas, however the colour you kept coming back to on the pallet was blue, striking, beautiful, cobalt blue.

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- Chapter Three Here -