#it’s just dredging up my thoughts and feelings all over again

[azurexsnake]

And can we PLEASE talk about how miserable Toji is? All his life has been hell because he dared to be born other. He was never seen as worth anything despite his skill and tenacity. He was never given a chance, cast aside to sink or swim, and no one even cared either way which he did regardless.

But, for how shitty he is and how little right he had to- to the kid he tried to kill and whose life he turned upside-down- he still begged in his own roundabout way for his son to be given a better life than the one he had. Through the apathy and the denied actualization of the self he wanted, that was his dying wish. He wanted better for Megumi than to become him. That was his final act of defiance.

[fingertipsmp3]

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[heytheredelulu]

Unbreakable

Unbreakable Part 2 can be found here!

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 4.7k

ALL OF MY WORK IS 18+

C/W: Oral sex (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, cream pie, language

Summary: You’ve always wanted to be a mother but your husband is too tormented by his past to believe he could ever be a good father. For so long you’ve accepted that it will never be in the cards for you- after all, it’s only a small price to pay to continue to live the life you’ve built with the man you love. But what happens when you finally admit that you want what he refuses to give you? Will you push him away with your confession or will you finally make him realize that he’s not the man he believes himself to be?

A/N: Look, I’ve been hormonal as hell for the last two weeks and it’s got me craving some angsty, soft, needy Bucky-

And some passionate, sensual baby makin’ sex.

So without further ado, please enjoy the longest fic I’ve ever written.

“Doll?” Bucky asked softly, kneeling down in front of you and lowering his head to your level in an attempt to draw your attention up from the book sprawled open in your lap.

You’d been much more reserved as of late and it was beginning to worry him. Your smile seemed a little weaker, a little more forced, and your overall demeanor had reversed; as if the bright light that you always exuded had been extinguished and you were now floating along on the furls of smoke that were left behind- here physically, but mentally you were always elsewhere.

“Hmm?”

You turn the page gently without looking up and Bucky sighs, reaching to carefully slide the book off your lap, snapping it shut and placing it on the coffee table.

“Look at me, angel.”

You let out a slow breath, lifting your head to meet your husband’s troubled gaze, his brows furrowed in concern.

“You wanna tell me what’s wrong, or are you gonna keep hiding out with your nose in a book all day?” He asks quietly, hoping that this time you’d open up, pull back the curtains you’d drawn so tightly and let him into those veiled thoughts of yours.

You shrug, trying to avert your eyes but his hand gently grasps your chin, tilting your face back towards him.

“Angel, please.”

You shake your head, afraid to share with him what’s been troubling you for weeks, afraid to dredge up long washed away agreements.

“It’s stupid.”

He raises an eyebrow, pinning you under his cerulean stare.

“Nah, it’s not stupid if it’s got you this worked up. C’mon.”

He affectionately tucks a piece of hair that had fallen loose when you’d shook your head back behind your ear before offering you a small smile that breaks your resolve and you feel the tears beginning to form on your lower lash line, the translucent beads of heartache obscuring your vision.

“I want a baby.” You whisper, immediately wishing you’d never uttered those four words once you see the corners of his lips begin to pull downwards.

When he slowly stands and takes a hesitant step backwards, that mask of stoicism you’ve worked for so long to peel away slipping back into place, your heart seizes in your chest.

“Bucky..” You plead, a tear slipping down your cheek as you rise from your seat and reach out for him, afraid you’ve pushed him too far with your admittance. “James.. Baby.”

He shakes his head, holding his palm out towards you in a feeble attempt to maintain his distance while he mulls over your confession but you press forward, placing your hand gently on his forearm.

“I need some air.” He mumbles, shrugging off your hand and moving quickly towards the door.

Before you can muster the voice to call out for him again, the door is closing behind him with a soft click and he’s gone, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Why couldn’t you have just kept your mouth shut?

You scold yourself, your mind reeling with the possibility that you may have said too much despite only saying so little when you hear his motorcycle roar to life out in the garage.

He was running again.

You’d known the idea of children was a difficult subject for Bucky. It had only come up in discussion a handful of times before and when it had, he was always quick to dismiss it, stating he’d be a terrible father before descending into a rabbit hole of self-deprecating comments you’d have to reach down and pull him out of with a steady hand of reassurance.

As time went on you’d pretty much conceded to the idea that you’d never have the chance to be a mother if you wanted to continue to live the life you’d built with the man that you loved and you’d grown to accept that fact. At the time it felt like a small price to pay for the joy and love that Bucky brought you but as the years went on and your friends and coworkers grew their families, welcoming new, bright eyed babies, you began to feel a sense of longing for what you had always thought you’d never want.

His behavior was so much different this time, the way he’d clammed up, shut you out and needed to completely remove himself from your presence. His reaction had never been so extreme before and you couldn’t help but wonder if it was how desperate you’d seemed- the tears in your eyes, the pleading in your tone.

Those thoughts and unanswered questions weighed heavily in your mind while you escaped the afternoon inside the pages of your book until the sun began to set through the bay window and you finally dragged yourself up to bed, your restless mind carrying you into a dreamless sleep.

It was nearly 2 in the morning when Bucky crept barefoot into your bedroom, the hall light bathing your sleeping figure in a corridor of fluorescent light as he quietly opened the door. His breath caught in his chest as he lingered in the doorway, this vision of you reminding him just why he always affectionately referred to you as his angel.

He shut the door softly behind him, shedding his t-shirt and jeans before gently pulling back the sheets, his heart and his cock simultaneously swelling when his gaze settled on the image of you in your silk night gown as it rode innocently up your supple thighs.

He crawled silently up the foot of the large bed, lowering himself onto his stomach and settling between your legs, his hands gently kneading the tender flesh of your thighs as a low and shuddered breath blew from his lips.

He carefully pushed the hem of the silk garment higher, exposing your cotton briefs and the soft flesh of your belly, moving to rest his head against the bare skin. His hand hesitantly caressed your abdomen.

All afternoon his head had been plagued with the fear of losing you, the feeling of inadequacy resulting from the pain in your tone when you confessed the desire for something he felt he could never provide.

But once alone with his thoughts as he tore down the interstate on his motorcycle, physically trying to outrun the deep rooted trauma of his past, the pieces began to fall into place for him.

You’d loved him unconditionally through his trauma, offered him unwavering support and shined light to the darkest depths of his soul, always seeing something inside him that he could never see in himself.

But you were fading. Becoming physically and emotionally withdrawn under the weight of sacrificing such a fundamental need that you craved- all for him.

Maybe he’d never overcome his past. Maybe there would always be a darkness beyond the surface that kept its claws dug deep into the innermost reaches of his subconscious.

Or maybe he had already overcome it and had just been so blinded by his own self loathing that he hadn’t realized. Surely if he was as cold and broken as he believed himself to be, he never would have been capable of loving you in the all encompassing way that he did.

You, the one person in his life that could melt the ice encapsulating his heart with only a flash of your warm smile.

He’d never wanted children. He always believed he’d be a terrible father but the desperation in your eyes when you confessed that you wanted a baby with him brought him to consider that maybe it had always been his own insecurities rearing their ugly head as they always did when he tried to imagine himself as anything more than the man he used to be.

His hand stroked idly across your bare abdomen in slow, languid movements as he tried to picture the soft flesh stretched and swollen with his child.

His child.

A life created from the love and the passion that the two of you shared, to raise in the home you’d built together, to nurture with the kindness that you exhumed and to mold into a better person than he could’ve ever hoped to have been with the guidance only someone as patient as you could provide.

He’d never wanted to be a father, never thought he was capable of being a father.

But you, you made him feel as if he were capable of anything and as he had pulled his motorcycle over onto the side of the highway and wept that evening, he knew now without question that he wanted- no, needed you to bring his child into this world.

“Baby?”

Your sleepy voice penetrated his thoughts as you spoke into the dark room and reached your hands down to tenderly run your fingers through his brunette locks.

“You came home.” You mumbled, trying to rouse from your slumber enough to properly talk to him.

Bucky raised his head off of your belly, sliding his hand up your torso, through the valley of your breasts to settle at your nape. He gently cupped your jaw and tilted your head to look at him as he hovered above you.

“Of course I came home.” He says, the hurt evident in his tone. “Why wouldn’t I?”

You catch your bottom lip between your teeth to prevent it from quivering as your emotions begin to rise to the surface again.

“I don’t know. I just-“ You hesitate, worried that you’re toeing a fine line of sending him running again if you don’t choose your words carefully.

“Angel..”

He settles his thumb over your mouth, effectively silencing you as he gently strokes the pad of his calloused thumb across your bottom lip.

“I always come home.” He whispered, leaning down and tracing the tip of his nose across your jawline. “I will always come home to you.”

“I thought I’d scared you off.” You admit softlyly, reaching your hand down to caress his cheek, the light stubble rough against your skin.

He leans into your touch, his eyes slipping closed as he draws in a shaky breath.

“You could never scare me off.”

His jaw clenches and he opens his eyes, looking at you with a haunted gaze.

“If anything I’m scared of myself, doll.”

You move to sit up, wanting nothing more than to take him in your arms, chase the demons from behind his eyes with the comfort of your loving embrace but he’s quick to place a large hand between your breasts, firmly pressing you back down onto the mattress.

“No.”

He repositions himself above you, dipping his head and bracing his weight on his muscular forearms as he trails a line of open mouthed kisses down your bare abdomen.

His breath fans against the soft cotton of your panties as he hooks his fingers under the waistband and removes them at a torturously slow pace.

“I don’t wanna talk about me and my bullshit.” He says in a low voice, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh and sending a shiver up your spine.

“Actually, I don’t wanna talk at all.” He adds, lifting your legs to rest over his shoulders.

“Bucky.” You warn softly, reaching your hand down to push his hair off his forehead. “We really should talk about this. We can’t avoi-”

He steals the words from you when he gently spreads your folds with his fingers, his breathy chuckle warm against your sex.

“I’ve got a much better way to make use of my mouth.” He murmurs, bowing his head and glancing up at you with lustful eyes. The image of him between your thighs, looking at you with such intensity was enough to silence you entirely.

“Let me show my angel what heaven feels like.”

A desperate moan rises from your throat as Bucky laps at your weeping cunt in long, slow strokes with his flattened tongue. He laves upward, tracing gentle circles around your clit, catching the swollen bud between his lips and suckling, your back arching off the mattress in response.

“Fuck.” You whimper, carding your hands in his hair to hold him in place.

He hums, flitting the tip of his tongue downwards and dipping into your fluttering hole, drawing a gasp from your throat as he fucks you with it, euphoria building at the base of your spine.

“For an angel-“ He mumbles and raises his head up, his unshaven chin slick with your arousal, pinning you under his gaze as he sinks two fingers inside you and begins pumping them slowly.

“You sure do taste like sin.” He muses.

He latches back onto your clit, flicking his tongue in quick movements while simultaneously curling his fingers inside you, stroking you closer towards climax with every ministration.

“Baby, I- fuck!”

Fire erupts through your core and you clench around his fingers, tightening your grip on his hair and jerking your hips upward to grind your cunt against his face as you cry out in ecstasy.

He chuckles against your tender flesh as he withdraws his digits, the warmth of his breath causing you to writhe against the sheets as you ride through the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“You’re so goddamned beautiful when you come.” He whispers, wiping his mouth on his forearm and shifting his weight against the bed as he rises momentarily up to discard his boxers.

He positions himself above you, bracing himself on his palms, his biceps flexing as he dips down to press a kiss to your pulse point.

Dazed and breathless, you reach down to guide him to your entrance, pausing when your hand curls around the warmth of his bare cock.

“Shit, condom.” You mumble, working to maneuver yourself out from under him in order to reach towards the bedside table.

He stops you with a loose grasp around your throat, gently pushing you back into the pillows.

“Don’t need one.” He breathes out, settling himself between your slick thighs.

Your brows furrow in confusion and your mouth falls open in question but he carefully slides his hand up your neck to grip your jaw, pulling you into a deep and sensual kiss.

You slide your hands across the expanse of his toned back, returning the kiss with equal intensity before he breaks it, resting his forehead against yours.

He silently guides your hand to his hard and aching cock, closing your fist around it as he releases a shuddered breath against cheek.

“You’re gonna take my cock.” He grunts, peppering kisses across your jawline. “You’re gonna take my cum.”

He bucks his hips against your grip, urging you to bring him against your weeping hole.

“And you’re going to have my baby.”

Your eyes widen at his words, the quiver in his voice telling you this isn’t just some form of dirty talk but that he’s sincere and desperate.

“Bucky, are you sure?” You ask in a broken whisper, clarifying for good measure.

“You are going to have my baby.” He repeats, his voice carrying demand.

You let out a whimper, lining him up with your entrance and withdrawing your hand once he presses the leaking tip of his cockhead into your cunt, quickly burying himself inside you with a purposeful thrust of his hips.

You gasp at the stretch and he stills, his pelvis flush against you, sucking in a sharp breath at the way your inner walls are gripping him, free of the confines of a condom for the very first time.

“Goddamnit, angel. I don’t think I’m going to last very long.” He chokes out, the feeling of your tight, wet cunt engulfing his cock leaving him nearly breathless.

God, what he would do to stay inside you like this forever.

He draws his hips back, retreating almost completely before thrusting back into you. His lips part and his brows knit, breathy moans rising from his throat as he picks up a rhythm, his very soul craving to feel you around every inch of his length.

His hunger for you is apparent with every deep and merciless thrust and that sense of needful longing sets your every nerve ablaze.

He crashes his mouth against yours, kissing you frantically as reaches for your hands, lacing your fingers together in a fervent grip.

Pleasure pools low in your abdomen and you bring your trembling legs up to wrap around his waist, rolling your hips up in sync with his strokes as you chase your climax.

He groans in response and increases his pace, his heavy sack slapping against your ass with every frenzied rut into you.

“Oh fuck, please, baby. Please come on my cock. God, I need to feel you. Fuck, fuck!” He pleads with a shuddering breath that betrays how desperately he’s fighting to maintain his tempo as he climbs closer towards the edge with every passing second.

The sight of this beautiful man barely able to refrain from falling apart for you, begging for you to come on his cock, is enough to break you. White hot pleasure spreads through your core, flooding your body in a wave of euphoria as you cry out for him in choked sobs.

“Bucky! James, baby!”

He pounds into you at a brutal pace, incapable of holding himself back any longer, drawing strangled noises from you as he fucks you through the waves of the orgasm gripping your body.

“I love you, I love you, I-“ You whimper over and over in a cock-drunk stupor, rocking your pelvis sloppily against his movements.

He grunts, his hips stuttering as he stammers out your name in a breathless plea before giving one final deep thrust and he stills, emptying himself inside you with a throaty moan.

Bucky slumps forward burying his face into your neck, words of praise falling from his lips in a whisper against your skin as you remain in each other's embrace, hearts racing and chests heaving in the afterglow.

The steady thumping of his heartbeat begins to lul you towards a state of peaceful sleep and as your eyes slip closed, you feel the bitter emptiness of him withdrawing from inside you only to jerk back to full consciousness at the sensation of his fingertips against the tender flesh of your swollen cunt.

As you start to rise up on your elbows in order to better observe what it is he’s doing, he softly shushes you, smirking as he trails his fingers along your slit, gathering up any of his seed that had managed to escape your aching hole and gently pump it back in with his fingers.

“Not letting you waste a drop.” He murmurs, collapsing onto the bed beside you and reaching an arm around your waist to pull your back against his broad chest.

He envelops you in his warmth, his strong arms wrapped lovingly around you as he rests his nose against the crown of your head, slowly and deeply inhaling your scent.

“What made you change your mind?” You ask softly, snuggling your cheek against the bicep of his flesh arm.

His vibranium arm drapes across your abdomen and he splays his palm above your pelvic bone, gently brushing the cool metal of his thumb back and forth in affectionate strokes along your bare skin.

“You.” He replies, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Me?” You ask incredulously. “How the hell did I manage to change your mind about something you were so adamant about? We didn’t even talk about it, Buck. I just told you what I wanted.”

He sighs, settling his chin atop your head. “You’re right, we didn’t.” He admits in a low voice. “But you know I’m a man of few words, angel.”

“But that doesn’t mean we just avoid the subject completely and then jump headfirst into this. Not that I’m complaining, it’s just that I need to understand how you managed to get here. That was- this was unexpected.” You respond, placing a gentle hand over his forearm and stroking your fingertips lazily across the spray of soft, dark curls adorning it. “You say you’re a man of few words but I know damn well you have a lot to say, you just don’t like saying it. You don’t like grappling with your emotions, Bucky. I think maybe its because you spent so long having them repressed against your will.”

He’s silent for a beat before drawing in a slow breath and in those several moments of quiet you feel a rising sense of dread that maybe you had overstepped with your assessment.

“Do you know why I call you ‘angel’?” He asks quietly, his thumb stilling against your lower belly.

You tilt your head in confusion. “What?” You question, your own fingers slowing their leisurely circles along his arm. “Baby, you’re deflecting.”

“I’m not.” He explains, raising his head, his thumb resuming its languid strokes across your skin. “Just answer my question.”

You huff, resisting the urge to roll your eyes by instead moving them back and forth to follow the movements of his thumb. “It��s a pet name, like baby or doll.”

He shakes his head and lets out a soft chuckle, his breath tickling the back of your neck.

“It’s a pet name, yeah. But do you know why I call you that?” He asks.

You shrug. “No, I guess I don’t.” You reply, tilting your head back to look up at him. “Are you gonna tell me?”

His lips curve into a smile as he looks down at you and in the dim light of the bedroom you notice how glassy his eyes appear, as if he’s just a blink away from a tear escaping his blue eyes.

“Because you saved me.” He whispers with a small crack in his voice that makes your heart ache. You want to ask him how- how he could possibly say something as bold as that you saved him, but your breath is caught in your chest at the vulnerability Bucky is showing you in this moment.

“Baby, when you met me I was so broken. I think maybe I still am.” He continues, resting his cheek against your shoulder in a clear attempt to hide his expression from you because he was stubborn and you were right. Emotion was not something Bucky expressed freely because he spent nearly his entire life with them suppressed so if he had any hope of baring his soul to you now, he couldn’t possibly let you see his face as he did it.

“No one dared to get close to me because they were too afraid of getting cut on the shattered pieces of who I was. But not you. Never you.” He explains, pausing as he draws in a slow and shaky breath while he considers how to express how much you mean to him when he wasn’t entirely sure there were even words capable of doing so.

In his brief pause you shift your weight, rolling over to face him properly before he continues.

“You didn’t care if you got cut because you saw something in me worth believing in and you weren’t afraid to bleed to get to it. You rebuilt me. You saved me.” His voice is hoarse as he struggles to hold his composure and keep from breaking down completely. “Your faith in me gave me hope- it gives me hope that maybe I’m capable of more than I think I am.”

A single tear finally breaks free, slipping free of his lashes and sliding slowly down his cheek in the wake of his heart lay bare to you.

“You give me too much credit.” You whisper, reaching up to brush away his tear with a trembling thumb. Your touch lingers on his skin and he places his hand overtop yours, pressing your palm to his cheek as he pins you under his tender gaze.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit.” He counters.

“Neither do you.”

He opens his mouth to argue but closes it and sighs when he realizes you’re right. You’re always right.

“I love you. I love all of you- every single piece, including ones you say are broken.” You whisper, offering him a soft smile as you gently push the hair back from his sweat-slicked forehead.

“They are broken.” He breathes out.

“I don’t think that’s true. If it were, could you really love me the way that you do? Think about it, Bucky. After everything you’ve suffered? You’re not broken, you’re unbreakable.”

He hesitates, running his hand down his face to mask the way it crumples at your words and wipe away the tears now falling steadily down his cheeks.

“I don’t deserve you.” He whispers.

You sit upright, leaning forward and cupping his face in your hands, forcing him to meet your eyes.

“You deserve everything, Bucky. Life owes you love. It owes you kindness for fucks sake.”

“Not after what I’ve done.” He mutters, the ghosts of his past flickering behind his eyes as he begins to retreat down that godforsaken rabbit hole inside his head again but you won’t allow it. Not this time.

“Especially after what you’ve done. Because you weren’t given a choice.”

He shakes his head, his eyes squeezing shut as if he can’t bear to let you see him this way.

“And what happens when they find out who- what I used to be?” He asks in a pained tone, nodding towards your belly as if he somehow believes his seed has already taken root in your womb. “They’ll find out. We won’t be able to shelter them from the truth.”

“Baby, look at me.” You demand, your expression stern as you rise up and lean forward on your knees. “Will it matter when they only know you as the you that you truly are? How can I make you see yourself the way that I see you?”

Bucky sighs, his shoulders slouching. “What would I do without you?” He asks quietly, resting his hand against your thigh and kneading the flesh beneath his fingers.

“Never have clean laundry or dishes.” You tease in an attempt to lighten the sullen mood. He stares up at you in disbelief for several long moments before unexpectedly delivering a swift smack to your bare ass, drawing a yelp from you that is immediately followed by a string of lighthearted giggles.

“Damnit, doll- I’m being serious!”

“So am I!” You argue, stifling a laugh. “I found a cereal bowl under the bed!”

He groans, covering his face with his hands. “It was one time.”

You smirk, your eyebrow quirking up in skepticism.

“That’s one time too many.”

“You’re ridiculous.” He grumbles.

“But you love me.”

He hooks an arm around your waist, pulling you into his embrace with a dramatic groan and you rest your head against his chest, draping your arms around his neck.

“I do.” He whispers, tracing his fingertips along your spine. “More than I could ever begin to explain.”

“A broken man couldn’t love me. A broken man wouldn’t know how to love me.” You point out. “And God, baby- you make me feel loved every moment of every single day.”

His breath catches and you can hear his heartbeat begin to quicken in his chest against your ear before he rolls over abruptly, pinning you underneath him as he looks down at you with an expression of adoration and that familiar fire in his gaze.

You tilt your chin up, a grin stretching across your face as you place your palm against his chest and state proudly, “You are James Buchanan Barnes and you are-“

He devours the words from your mouth before you can finish speaking them as he kisses you with urgency, stealing the breath from your lungs with the way his mouth moves desperately against yours.

Your hands explore his toned back, the feeling of his muscles flexing under your touch driving you to greedily draw his body closer to yours until he settles his weight onto you.

He breaks the kiss with a smirk on his lips as your head falls back, sucking in a sharp inhale at the warmth of his cock pressing into the soft flesh of your bare thigh, already hard and weeping for you again.

He lowers his head, nuzzling his forehead against your temple as he completes your stolen sentence in a whisper against the shell of your ear:

“Unbreakable.”

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[joelmillers-whore]

The Only Thing I Did Right

summary: after a patrol gone wrong, joel races to get you back to jackson. while the doctor tries to save you, he wrestles with the guilt of letting you down.

pairing: joel miller x reader 

word count: 2.6K

series or one-shot

warnings: mature, language, joel x female!reader, no mention of Y/N, canon timeline (sort of), jackson era, post-outbreak, soft joel, hurt/comfort, minor descriptions of blood, joel thinking everything is his fault, tommy is there briefly, mentions of drinking and/or alcohol dependence, happy ending don’t worry, angst if you squint

A/N: i meant for this to be a short drabble because my creativity has been waning lately and i’m a little burned out to be honest, but i got carried away, but what else is new. anywho, enjoy this lil fic. let me know if ya’ll would like to see another part of this or maybe an interconnected one-shot series, i would be down. i really enjoyed writing this. also, i am still trying to power through this sickness i have suddenly, and i don’t think i’ll be able to post hard light chapter two this week.

I've Got Nothing Left To Hide

“Where’s it hurt?”, Joel asked, in a low, almost inaudible voice. He tried to keep his tone calm, trying to keep you calm, but his mind was flustered, and he was on edge, and he was pretty sure that you could see right through his charade. 

He swallowed thickly, past a lump that was stuck in his throat. His eyes darted all over you, tracking every movement, every laboured breath, and wince.

It had been decades since he had felt like this; the constricting of his chest, the shallow and unsure breaths that he was letting out, and the staggering way his heart clenched, a silent prayer on his lips, asking any God who would listen to spare you. 

It all felt so overwhelming and a little too familiar. Images of Sarah flashed through his mind, dredging up demons and emotions he had thought he had left in the past.

He had never been so afraid of losing someone he loved, not since Sarah, but here he was now, feeling like he was about to collapse at any minute, terrified of making the wrong move and losing you.

He swallowed again, harsher as he concentrated on his breathing. 

He hadn’t let his mind drift to thoughts of his daughter in a long time, his chest burning in that familiar way each time that he did, squeezing to the point of pain.

He let an idle hand drift to his chest, right above his heart, and gripped it, trying to will it subconsciously to slow down. But it was no use. 

There were very few things in the world that made Joel feel as if the ground was collapsing underneath him, and thinking of Sarah was definitely one of them.

Whenever he found himself thinking of her, thinking of how he couldn’t save her, the breath from his lungs evaporated, and guilt slammed into him with enough force to destabilize him.

But seeing you like this, the woman that he had promised Tommy that he would watch over and protect, writhe in pain as blood pooled under your shirt, that was another thing that he couldn’t bear to witness. 

You looked so helpless, lying in his arms, looking up at him with droopy lids, a faraway look in your eyes.

He cursed under his breath, knowing that you were injured because of him, because of his carelessness.

You were going to be another person he couldn’t protect and he didn’t know how much more of that he could take. 

“‘M fine”, you said, weakly, your breath coming out in stunted gasps. 

Joel shook his head, tempered anger coursing through his veins, “Don’t pull that brave shit with me”, he bit out, harsher than he intended. He gripped you tighter in his arms, holding onto you for dear life. “I know it hurts, so just tell me”. 

He watched as tears gathered at the corners of your eyes, you tried to blink them but the motion only made them fall, coating your cheeks.

Joel lifted a hand, wiping them away. He hated to see you cry, he couldn’t stand it, it broke his heart.

He left his thumb on the apple of your cheek, thinking that maybe the sensation would bring you some comfort, thinking that maybe it would bring him some comfort. 

“Am I going to die, Joel?”, you asked, a slight tremble in your voice. 

Joel shook his head, adamantly, “Not if I can help it”. 

You faded in and out of consciousness as Joel debated his next move, trying to figure out how he was going to get you back to Jackson.

He clutched the hem of your shirt, the material sticking to your stomach as he peeled it from you.

He visibly cringed as he eyed your wound, the punctured flesh dispelling crimson red at a rapid and borderline concerning rate. 

He couldn’t wait around any longer, couldn’t wait for the next round of patrol to find them, if they even came out this far. So, he took matters into his own hands, his muted internal clock ticking down the more he looked at you pale in his arms.

He scooped up your limb body, pressing you flush to his body, determination and adrenaline pumping through him, the driving force propelling him into action.

There was only one thought in his head; get you back to Jackson, by whatever means. 

As he stepped out of the small cabin, Joel noticed that the sun was slowly starting to dip beneath the horizon, the pop of blistering orange making him anxious.

Night would come quicker than either of you wanted and then the real challenge would begin, trying to navigate through the dense forest and get back to the community in the dark.

You were trembling in his arms, shaking so violently, from either the bitter cold or the loss of blood, that he thought that he was the one who was hurting you. 

“Can you ride?”, he asked, urgency in his voice. 

“Dunno”. 

Joel couldn't risk injuring you further, but he also couldn’t waste any more time, so he made an executive decision. He had been making a lot of those on your behalf today, and his most recent had gotten you in this position in the first place, it was his fault.

If anything happened to you, he wouldn’t ever forgive himself. 

He placed you tentatively on the ground, his arm sneaking around your waist to stabilize you as he untied his horse from the post. 

“Alright”, he bent slightly, grabbing your foot and placing it in his hand, “Nice ‘n easy now”. 

He could see the strain on your face, the pellets of sweat sticking to your hairline as you used as much strength as you could, hoisting yourself up and onto the horse. You’d let out a strangled groan as you got situated.

Once he knew that you were on, he hopped up, grabbing the reins and digging his heels into Shimmer’s body, spurring her into a run, his motivation to get back to Jackson making his heart race. 

The only solace that Joel took from not being able to see you from the position he was in, was that he could feel you gripping him from behind, your arms latching around his waist, your cheek flush with his back.

He could feel your chest rising and falling against him and his pulse softened, knowing that you were still fighting, still holding on for him. 

He had pushed Shimmer to her limits, getting you both back to Jackson in record time. The sequence of events that followed had been a blur to him.

The gates had opened immediately, the guards recognizing him even in the dusk.

He remembered screaming his throat raw, begging someone for help as he carried you into town and to the doctor.

He’d watched on, helplessly, as they quickly began working on you. Blood and cloth blurred his vision, making his stomach twist with queasiness.

He had to leave the room, too overcome with emotion and nausea to be of any help to you. 

When he stepped outside of the small makeshift clinic, the frigid air pierced his lungs, drawing out a long and aching breath, striking him so sharply that he stumbled forward.

He had gripped a wooden post for support, digging his palms into it for purchase, closing his eyes.

He tried to get a handle on his breathing, but it was no use. He felt the bile creeping higher in his throat, until he couldn’t hold back anymore.

It poured out of him, leaving his mouth dry and his head spinning. It was a visceral reaction, his worry over you, over what he had let happen. 

He cursed Tommy for entrusting him with you, something so precious. He knew things could have turned out worse, and he was glad that they hadn’t been, but he couldn’t get over how bad they were right now.

How shaken to his core he was that he had allowed this to happen at all.

Joel couldn’t stand to be there anymore, just on the other side of the door that led to you, powerless while the doctor patched you up. So, he did the one thing he had always been good at, he left. 

Snow crunched underneath his boots, growing louder in his ears as he walked away from the clinic. He thought that a drink might help calm his nerves.

A part of his brain wanted to forget that this day had ever happened, and another part told him that no amount of alcohol would repair the guilt that was nestled snuggly in his gut. But he could try. 

Joel didn’t know how long he had been at the Tipsy Bison, he had lost track of time after the third or fourth whiskey. He blew out a shaky breath, letting a hand drift over his haggard features.

He had been running on adrenaline the whole day and now he was crashing, feeling the exhaustion settle deep in his bones.

But he couldn’t rest, he didn’t deserve to, not when he didn’t know if you had made it or not. 

A jolt of horror shot through his body, making his stomach twist in knots. What if you hadn’t made it? He licked his dry lips, closing his eyes as he felt a prick form behind his eyes. 

Joel was startled by a firm hand on his shoulder. He twisted slightly to see who it was, his face dropping further when he saw that it was Tommy.

He didn’t have to look at his brother for long to get a read on his expression. What he was thinking.

He was pissed and rightfully so. He had failed you and now he was waiting for Tommy to lay into him, chastise him for being so fucking stupid. 

“She’s askin’ for ya”, Tommy said, keeping his voice soft. 

Joel turned around in his seat fully to look at Tommy, surprised that he had gotten to his feet so fast. He snorted out a laugh, seeing the fucking relief that was surely on Joel’s face.

Tommy clapped his shoulder again, almost to stabilize him. Joel couldn’t look his brother in the eye, guilt bubbling and breaking the surface, making his skin sting. 

“‘M sorry”, he mumbled, “I should’ve been there, I should’ve gotten to her quicker, I shoulda done something”. 

Tommy shook his head, “You couldn’t’ve known that would happen, Joel. So stop blaming yourself”. 

Joel scratched at his facial hair, running his hand along his jaw, pondering Tommy’s words. 

He continued, “You protected her with your life, brother. I couldn’t ask for more than that”. 

Joel felt emotion clog his throat. Tommy wasn’t angry with him like he suspected he would be, he was grateful even. Something unfamiliar unfurled in his stomach, something that felt like acceptance. 

A long beat stretched between them, “Go see her”, Tommy finally said, a smile pulling at his lips. 

He led Joel out of the bar, leading him back to the clinic to go see you. Tommy stopped short of the door, motioning for him to continue without him. Joel nodded curtly, slipping past and entering the small, single-room cabin. 

Tentatively, Joel inched closer to the bed that you were in, walking on the balls of his feet, uncertain if you were awake or not. You were lying down, stretched out with your back to him, He sat on the edge of the bed, seeing you turn toward him, a grin on your face as you looked at him. Joel’s face heated under your gaze.

He didn’t deserve that smile, he thought, but he would take it anyway, if you were willing to give it to a man like him. He reached out, stroking your face softly with the back of his fingers. 

“Hey, darlin’, how ya feelin’?”, his voice was throaty, raw. 

His heart hammered below the surface as your eyes locked with his, pining him to where he sat. He didn’t want to breathe too loudly or make any sudden movements, too afraid that he would break the spell. 

“Better now”, you croaked. 

Everything collapsed at once inside of him; his resolve, his strength, his pride. He couldn’t fight it any longer, how fucking happy he was that you were still here, still with him. 

“What’re you smiling at, hm?”, you asked, arching a brow. 

Joel shook his head, his explanation dying on his tongue. He had never been one to lose his words but right now, being so close to you, he wasn’t sure he knew how to speak anymore.

Your hand wrapped around his wrist, pulling him back to the moment. Your hand was freezing as it touched his skin but he didn’t mind. 

His smile disappeared as your eyes scanned his face, “I’m so fuckin’ sorry—”, he started, but you shook your head. 

“It was my fault, Joel. Don’t you dare apologize for my fucking mistake. I won’t hear it”, you said, your tone firm. 

Joel wanted to argue, to tell you that it was his fault but he didn’t have the heart, not when you were only just beginning to heal up, still looking weak and pale.

He could wait for another day to have it out with you. He just nodded instead, and you hummed, content with him seemingly letting it go for now. 

Your hand was still on his wrist and he felt a strange sense of calm. 

“Come ‘er”, you whispered, tugging on his wrist lightly. 

He wasn’t sure what was happening until your lips were on his, soft, pliant, and full. The kiss was sweet but it only lasted a minute. He pulled back, his brows furrowed in confusion. 

“Thank you”, you said, eyes shining as the light hit them, making them more beautiful than he thought was possible. 

He nodded quickly, head still spinning from kissing you. It had been a thank-you kiss and he shouldn’t think more of it.

But goddamn it, he wanted more. He wasn’t mad or upset that you had kissed him, honestly, he had been meaning to do it for months now.

If a kiss filled with gratitude for saving your life was all that he could get, he would accept that, he didn’t want to push his luck. 

You noticed the uneasy look on his face, shifting in the bed and using your dwindling strength to sit up.

Now you were the one with creased brows, your eyes darting over his face, trying to find your answer. Realization struck your features. 

“If I made you uncomfortable, I’m sorry, Joel. I just didn’t know how else to say it”. 

Joel felt like a jackass, that wasn’t what he meant at all. 

“That’s not— that’s not it, darlin’. I just didn’t think you’d want to kiss an old man like me”. 

His chuckle was thick with depreciation, but you just shook your head, eyes gleaming with something he didn’t recognize. You chewed your lower lip and Joel couldn’t help but stare. 

“I’ve been meaning to do that for a while actually”, you admitted. 

Joel’s head snapped up, searching your eyes. You were sincere and he knew it. That was the confirmation that he needed, the hope that lit a flame in his chest. You wanted him too. 

A deep chortle escaped Joel’s throat, his face neutral as he leaned in closer to yours. “Then I guess we better make up for lost time then”. 

Joel pressed his lips into yours, moulding to the shape of them as he gripped your face in his large hands, letting a groan slip into your mouth. You pulled back with a giggle, fisting the hair at the base of his head.

Your smile was a thousand watts and Joel couldn’t look away. His grip on your face tightened a little more, making sure that this was really happening to him. 

He couldn’t believe it but he dove back in regardless, wanting to soak in as much of your love and light that you were willing to give to him.

[messyhairedhazeleyeddude]

╔═════ •┈• “I Hear You.” •┈• ═════╗

A Toge Inumaki x Fem!Deaf!Reader || Fluff + SMUT || ˚. ୭ ˚◦˚.

Contents ; Mind reading (reader has cursed hearing), Toge has PTSD, soft touches, hesitant fingering, face-riding, mind control (Toge uses his speech curse), squirting, soft dom Toge, public sex, cock-warming, and a cumshot in reader’s panties.

A/N ; Hi, so I just wanted to explain a little bit of background on this since reader’s curse might be hard to understand for some right away. But, basically, reader is partially deaf from a horrible accident involving a curse that had consumed one of Sukuna’s fingers. It left her with a cursed ability to where she can listen into someone’s thoughts for a limited amount of time at random. However, it has its drawbacks which you will see in the story. Now, that’s all! Hopefully that clarifies some confusion if there is any.

Dynamic ; Best Friends to Lovers

Sexual Dynamic ; Soft Dom!Toge | Bottom!Fem!Reader

P.O.V ; First

Age range ; 18+

Music Suggestion ;

{Y/N’s P.O.V :}

I sat on an oak polished bench with a heavy sigh, facing toward the buildings of Jujutsu High, hundreds of Ginkgo trees shrouding certain parts of their rooftops in a pretty spiral. The same ones lining the path that I walked on to get to our usual hang-out spot.

Their orange leaves danced around my head and landed at my black Mary Jane’s, my glossy lips quirking up into a smile at the perfect shape of the leaf before lifting my Canon camera to take a picture. As soon as my finger hovered over the snap button, it flew away.

Wind being the culprit. A shudder ran down my spine when the gust blew through my {H/C} hair and ruined another shot, making me huff in frustration.

I’ve been dealing with this annoying weather all day. Finally, the day I’m off of studying and training. Left alone to fulfill any hobbies I want for as long as I want with no one calling me on a mission to exorcise curses. And it just had to be windy.

However, I couldn’t complain. Being able to get dressed for the day, something I hadn’t been able to do in a long time— was more than exciting. There was even time for myself to do my makeup and having hours like that as a Jujutsu student would be considered lucky.

Reminding myself of him, I smiled. The memories of his horrible attempts at being on time flashed in my mind and brought a small giggle out of me. Oh, that’s right. How could I forget the example himself? For the boy I was waiting on, getting out of work was non-existent.

The feeling of a warm hand placing itself on my shoulder made me jump out of my seat, twisting around to stand in a fighting position with a little scream. When I saw the recognizable white parted hair and tired, doe eyes of Toge, I clasped both of my hands together and puckered my lips out of embarrassment.

He was quick to be apologetic, repeating the same weird ingredients he usually said over and over again, “Sujiko… Takana..?” But, by now, I somewhat understood what he meant. Takana was used as a form of asking if I was okay. Sujiko… That, I could only guess meant an expression like, ‘Oh gosh.’ Or I liked to imagine it was.

Hanging out with the cursed speech user outside of missions had benefits when it came to understanding his way of talking. Although, that was funny to mention because the way we had come about to regularly seeing each other was far from willing. Or maybe it wasn’t on my end. But, if I could take those doubts back, I would.

Thinking of that dredged up a flashback of how it all started.

•···· ‘ First Meeting Him . . . ’ ····•

My feet slipped while trying to hop onto the next stone in the middle of a river I was crossing, almost taking a tumble into the cold water before I saved myself by stretching out my arms. I regained my balance and breathed heavily, cursing underneath a couple of them.

Then I went for the fifth one, regaining momentum and skipping across each of them until I landed on my toes into the bed of pebbles near the water. Surprisingly, I had yet to cut them on a sharp object sticking through the dirt.

I turned my head from staring down at my legs and white skirt to looking at my reflection in the clear stream.

{E/C} eyes peered back at me, filled with happiness from the moment of quiet, and appreciation for the fact I didn’t have to stress my attention span on anyone. Or that’s what I thought.

Before I could get further with that thought, a headache began to form on the right side of my temple and I placed a hand up to it; worry rising as I knew what was happening when I heard ringing after the throbbing. My curse. It was coming.

I couldn’t understand how it was. A person had to be beside me in order for me to connect to their inner consciousness and they’d have to be in an extremely weak mindset which would take hours for me to perfect in battle.

So, what this was and what this meant was far beyond anything I’ve experienced with my curse. Right up until this very point.

Crouching down to my knees, I started to hold both sides of my head now. The pain and ringing worsening by the minute. I rocked back and forth to try to ease myself. Why was it so hard to connect to them? It was like they were poisoning my brain the more I tried to.

Whoever it was took me forever to process before I could hear the faint sound of mumbling, such a soft and sweet voice.

“What do I do? What do I do? I can’t have her knowing that I stopped to watch her… Even worse, she could think I followed,” I managed to make out what they were saying, the masculine tone rambling on and on, as if the boy had some form of hyperactivity disorder.

Thankfully, the migraine stopped once I was successful in linking. So I was able to stand up straight again. Looking around for the responsible one of my misery.

I figured I’d tell them I knew they were here to lure them out of their hiding, shouting with a lag on any words I couldn’t hear I was pronouncing right, “Who’s out there?! You can show yourself! I won’t be upset with you!” Hope I said that correctly.

The voice paused and no longer spoke a word, a silence enveloping the atmosphere and leaving me to barely confirm that they were still present by checking if my cursed energy was still being used. When I did, I called out a second time, “I promise! I won’t think anything bad of you! I can hear your thoughts! My curse is working with you as of now!”

My attempts at getting them to come out seemed futile and I was about to give up before I heard rustling in the bushes to my left. I turned my head to see who it was and to my surprise, it was that cursed first grade sorcerer. What was his name? Inumaki?

His chin was lowered but his eyes were wide and fixated on mine, like he was in shock. He was nervous from what I could tell in his body language: hesitant in his footsteps, jagged breathing, and small pupils. I could see a shake in how he walked too. Whatever it was that was scaring him about me, it was definitely due to underlying trauma.

And once I heard what he started to think about, I pieced together why, “Okaka, okaka, okaka, okaka.” He continuously repeated the Japanese word for ‘Fish Flakes’ in a panicked tone, his hand moving up to his forehead to press against it. Toge was forcing himself to not think anything because he was worried his curse would affect me.

The poor boy proceeded to break down in front of me, landing onto his knees in the grass while pulling at his hair as slips of actual words were coming into his sentences, “Okaka, I can’t, no! Stop thinking, Ikura, just Ikura! No, no, no, OKAKA!”

I could feel his torment. Having access to someone’s mind wasn’t a gift like people assume it is, this was why. You get to see what they see, feel how they feel, and physically align yourself to the point where it could be labeled as scientifically combining one’s spirit with another. That means I can see all of his past and present. I can understand every single thing Inumaki was trying to do for me in that moment. And it was to save. Save me from him. Only save me from him. That was what he was really trying to say.

There wasn’t enough time left of my ability for me to convince him to calm down and see that nothing was wrong. I was cut off before I could say a word of affirmation and from the look of dull surprise on Toge’s face, he sensed that it was over.

I don’t think I’ll be able to forget that look of sadness in his purple eyes when he came to the realization that everything was fine. That none of his words had hurt or done the things he had saw in his head. It’s what led me to tug his sleeve as he tried to leave.

Inumaki didn’t look at me, but he stopped. Like he was waiting for me to say what I had to say. So, I hurriedly proposed an idea I wouldn’t have blurted out had I not felt rushed, “Can I see you again?”

Admitting this now, I adored seeing that smile curving up his cheeks, as melancholy as it was. It’s what made me start to crush on the boy. He nodded his head and gave me a thumbs up, his eyes squinting into crescent-shaped moons while he remarked, “Shake.”

That was the beginning of our unspoken friendship.

•···· ‘ End of Flashback. . . ’ ····•

I blinked rapidly when coming back from the small memory trip, realizing that I had been staring at Toge the entire time I was lost in it. A blush creeped onto my face, I could feel the warmth scattering my cheeks and I lifted my hands to cover it; leaving my eyes open to keep eye contact with him.

That wasn’t a smart idea. He was bound to know that I was flustered. Inumaki had such an odd increased sense of observation because of his inability to have conversations. I could see it from how he looked at me. It always felt like he was reading into my soul, gently peeping behind the curtains of my brain, and looking at the scripture of my bones whenever he held his gaze on me like he was currently.

A hum left me and I laughed it off, brushing the sleeves of my brown cardigan on my cheeks, stepping toward him, “Pardon that, it’s so cold… Do you think we could go somewhere warmer?”

Toge lingered the stare for a minute before he gave me a break and answered, “Tsuna Tsuna.” I distinctly recall that to mean, ‘Look’ in his vocabulary. Confirming it when he grabbed me by my wrist and pulled me closer, bringing me into a hug.

At first, I thought he was trying to warm me up with his own body temperature but then I felt him taking off his jacket and that made me pull away. The stupid blush on my face wouldn’t ever go if he kept this up. I apologized and waved a hand at the action, “No, no! Thank you for the kindness.. But, you need that too.”

He continued to take it off and walked back to where he was in front of me, throwing the jacket over my shoulders and holding it there with the arm holes wide open.

I stared up at him, his face closer than before, and the details in it enough to make my face burn brighter; like a tomato. Then I slowly slid my arms through the warm piece of clothing, letting it mold into my body, giving him a small smile of comfort and gratitude.

Toge looked me up and down, holding two thumbs up with an exclamation of the word he uses for praise, “Mentaiko!” His eyes smiling at me once again.

Why did he have to be so sweet? I was lost in thought about my crush on the boy for what felt like the millionth time. Tired of stressing my feelings on it but I wasn’t able to say a word about it to him. I didn’t want to ruin a friendship that seemed so fragile by acting on something that’d be so selfish. He wasn’t looking for a girlfriend, he was looking for a friend. Someone he could finally have a connection with outside of his stressors. Not another load to bear.

Shunning myself from having anymore thoughts on the matter, I went to sitting on the bench from earlier again, Inumaki following behind and plopping down next to me.

We sat in silence and watched the scenery like I had been before, helping me calm myself so no more unnecessary romance made me avoid the white-haired boy. I closed my eyes and burrowed most of myself into the jacket to keep some heat maintained, the smell of rice and red mungbean paste wafting from it.

Glancing at Toge, I noticed that he was leaned and fixated on scribbling something on a paper resting in his lap. Seemingly to have got it from the backpack he carried here.

I watched as he jotted down the last of what he needed to write. He shoved the pencil back into one of the pockets of his bag and folded the paper up into a square; handing it to me the moment he was finished. My expression changed into a surprised stare, digging my fingers into the corners of it until I undid the folds one by one.

There was no way I would expect to see what I read on that paper, but I did. Stumbling over the words he wrote with shock.

‘Please, try to connect to me again?’

Looking over at him, my wide eyes met with his purple, calm orbs. Like he was trying to tell me it was okay. Inumaki outstretched his hand and placed it facing up on my thigh for me to hold it, peacefully smirking at me as if he was letting me know that he was ready to talk.

My breathing increased and my eyelashes fluttered, trying to process everything without getting too overjoyed, but that was really hard. He wanted to speak to me. Would I be the first person he’s talked to? Would I be the first to experience a conversation with a cursed speech user?

None of this mattered. The only thing that mattered was getting to experience the connection again and after having so much time to regain control over this cursed energy I had, I was more than prepared to pull it together.

My eyelids shut and I focused every single bit of my attention on Toge’s presence, pinpointing the exact spots of his soul and reaching out a hand to place it on his forehead. Sweeping hair out of the way for my palm.

A buzz of power vibrated through my entire arm and I could hear the sounds of almost thousands of student’s thoughts for a fraction of a second, my head spinning until a snap was heard. And then quiet. I could picture a thin white line in my head, the sound of soft, running water making me giggle. His soul was so gentle and pretty. It was exactly what I thought it would be like.

I opened my eyes to look at his handsome face once more, giving him a nod to let him know that I succeeded in the connection. My heart picking up pace and thumping against my chest as I waited to hear that voice of his.

Quiet but kind, he murmured to me, “Can you… hear this?” I eagerly nodded, a wide grin accidentally peeping from my lips as I said, “Yes! Yes, I can!” His eyebrows raised and he appeared starstruck, choking out in his mind, “You can… And nothing is happening to you? You can talk to me?”

Tears formed in the corners of his ducts out of being overwhelmed, threatening to spill while I continued to shake my head up and down, confirming the one thing he had been wanting almost his whole life.

He scoffed, thinking out loud with more confidence, “I didn’t think something like this was possible for me…” I had never heard him speak so clearly before. Last time he was so hard to hear that I had to listen to each syllable for a clue on what he was saying. Now, he spoke directly into his head.

But, pushing everything to the side, I was curious about his reasoning. Why was he suddenly okay with this? So, I asked him, “What made you want to connect?”

Toge bit his lip at the question and a random look of nervousness crossed his face, his directness failing him as he gave himself away instantly, “I was trying to ask if you would be willing to cross the boundaries of friends and into something more…?” My jaw dropped at what he just said, looking at him like he was insane before coughing a reply, “Wow! I wouldn’t have thought this was what you were going to say! Um…!”

Tilting my head to the ground, I tucked my knees together and sheepishly took the hand that he kept there from earlier. Interlocking my fingers with his and squeaking out, “I think I would really enjoy that…”

This was happening. He was confessing feelings for me I believed didn’t exist a moment ago and telling me he wanted me to be his girlfriend. Holy, shit. Mind my language, but seriously! HOLY, SHIT!

Inumaki squeezed my hand and reached over to grab my chin with his other one, turning me to face him so he could get closer. Observing how I was responding to the situation with a tiny smirk. Was he being cocky? The Toge Inumaki?

He touched noses with me, asking as he barely hovered his lips on mine, “I don’t know why… but I really want to…Is it okay if I kiss you, {Y/N}?” My breath caught in my throat and I froze, responding through my own thought, “Yes.”

There was no hesitation after, our lips locking in a tight hold as he brushed his hand to the back of my neck, tugging me into him to where we were smushed against one other. A small bit of desperation in the pull, causing the both of us to stay in the kiss until we needed a break for oxygen.

I panted once apart, Toge moving his arm from holding my hand to pushing his fingers to my lower stomach, hesitating right around there. He murmured, “Can I go all the way?” Struggling from holding back by the way he was dragging down. I dug my teeth into my tongue and contemplated over the ask, secretly accepting it as soon as he mentioned it. Fuck, I felt like such a bad influence.

“Do it,” I quickly whispered into his ear, nuzzling down into the crook of his neck to hide there afterward. What were we doing? What if someone saw?

Me and Toge were exchanging kisses on an outside bench. We were cuddled up until the white-haired boy laid me down on the wooden planks, his lips dipping for my neck and sucking on parts that were exposed. I gasped, wrapping my arms around him to plant my nails deep into his back. I didn’t mean to hurt him, I was just overstimulated by the rushes of dopamine from every single touch he gave.

It was so soft. Even as he pushed his fingers underneath my skirt and in between my thighs, it tickled me from how delicate he was. This was weird. Who knew I would like someone touching me like this?

Inumaki hovered above my underwear once he got around to them, swallowing nervously while he confirmed with me for a second time, “I can go ahead? You want this?” He was so adorable in the way he quirked his head like a puppy as he asked, his messy hair making me want to squeal. But I refrained.

I decided to vocally express it now, “Yes, I want you to.” Hopefully that would get it through to him. His face almost innocent for that brief moment he asked right until he got the message. A darkness shading over his face before he hooked his fingers on the fabric that covered me. Pushing them to the side and making me hold my breath.

He was doing this to me. He was really going to do this with me. Out in public. My head turned to stare out at the falling leaves with a churning anxiety in my stomach now. Letting the boy above me feel the wetness between my legs with his fingertips, pushing down to my entrance and slowly sliding one third of it in.

If my grip was bad then, I couldn’t imagine how it was once he started. It felt like he was trying to tease me for the first half of it, constantly taking his fingers out, pushing an entire digit inside, then half of another, and proceed to completely abandon the whole thing. Like he was experimenting with me and figuring out which made me feel the best. Eventually, I had to plead, “Toge, Toge…! Can you please… just keep them in?” That was awfully embarrassing.

The purple-eyed boy raised his brows, gushing out an apology and pulling completely away instead, “Oh..! Sorry… You feel really.. nice. I hope this is okay…” Before he went to kiss from my neck down to my chest, all the way to my hips. Looking up at me through those white eyelashes of his as he went for it, wrapping his mouth on my sensitive bud and dipping his tongue to my entrance.

He lapped in and out of me, my legs tensing and squeezing around him on accident while he dragged me into sitting on top of his face. Peering at his eyes that stared straight up at me, the other half of him covered by my thighs and lower half. I humped a tiny bit from how good I was feeling. Unable to stop myself from getting out of hand because he was driving me nuts with his pace.

I couldn’t keep it in for longer if he kept pressing the tip of his tongue on those sweet spots inside. Or if he kept sucking on the right places. Anything. I would unwind. And I didn’t want to make a mess on him.

Without me saying a word about it, it was like he knew I was close because of how fast he got all of a sudden. Thrusting his tongue until my legs were shaking. I cried out, reaching for and tugging on his hair. Toge groaned on me, sounding like he was annoyed, “Cum already.”

Those were real. He actually said that. And I couldn’t respond to it because my first instant reaction was to scream, collapsing forward onto the arm of the bench to hold tight as I rocked my hips.

All of my juices fell out of me and anything that couldn’t be caught by him dripped down the sides of his cheeks onto the floor. I twitched and lifted myself off, my shoes thudding on the concrete as I tried to regain my balance. Jesus, fuck, I can’t believe he did that. I can’t believe WE did that. I was so dizzy from it, I didn’t know how I was awake. My hand reached up to rub my forehead.

Although, I had no idea that Inumaki had different plans. The sound of another command from him frightening me to my core, “Take them off.” I didn’t even know what he was telling me to take off but I went for his pants anyway, guessing that he could mean something and I would still do it despite not knowing. His ability was something else. And to say that I’m not freaked out about what he was telling me to do was an understatement.

Toge was making me hook up with him. Not like I wasn’t going to in the first place, I’m only confirming this because he was going down this route and I shamefully liked it. Well, loved it…

After taking his cargo pants off of him and resting them at his knees, he helped take off his boxers next, making me cover my eyes out of sheer inexperience. I’ve never seen one in real life. And here I was about to see Toge’s. This was my first time. He seemed to get how I was feeling because he patted my head for reassurance, cooing at me in thought, “Take your time… Sorry that I’m so eager. I hope you aren’t minding, {Y/N}..”

Oh no, I was far from minding. I snickered at myself and dropped my hands from my face, excusing my behavior, “Crap…! I don’t mean to act like a kid! I haven’t done this and it’s so nerve-wracking!” Red was covering my cheeks once again as I glanced over to see his exposed erection, becoming a flustered heaping pile of mush.

Toge huffed, “That’s why I was saying uh… those commands.. If I keep doing it, will that help?” Sounding so sexually frustrated that I was starting to feel bad for holding out. But, he was suggesting an actual solution that had been working. It made sense.

So, I agreed, “Yeah… actually.” And he cleared his throat with a squint to his eyes, quickly adjusting himself. It was crazy seeing the words really leaving his mouth, “Ride me.” That could go for what he was telling me to do as well.

Feeling my body go on autopilot, both of my legs straddled the sides of Inumaki’s hips, and I began lowering myself until his tip was prodding around my inner thigh. My hand grabbed the base once I struggled for a minute, aligning it against my entrance to ease his shaft into me.

A gasp escaped my lungs, moans cascading afterward while I shakily grabbed onto both of his shoulders, his arms wrapping around my waist to hold and guide me on him. Fucking into me as I bounced lightly. I could feel how small I was for him from his dick refusing to slide out at some points. Like my body was trying to keep him inside.

We groaned in unison, syncing with each other’s movements, my voice pitching when he brushed into a spot that he abused earlier. He memorized where it was and aimed directly for it, his eyebrows knitting together as sweat dripped down from his forehead. It was so good. He felt so good. And he had a look to his face that I would never forget.

After fifteen minutes of doing it out in the open, someone was finally about to walk past and I sensed them barely seconds before they could see us. Pretending to have fell asleep on Toge once the person arrived. His jacket placed over our lower halves.

“What’s up Inumaki? Aaaaannnnd… {Y/N}…” the sound of Maki’s voice made me internally cringe as she seemed like she was getting closer. Making me pray that she wouldn’t get any ideas about what was going on. If she found out, we wouldn’t hear the end of it.

He gave his usual greeting, “Konbu..” Playing it off surprisingly well with the tone of his speech, no stutters whatsoever. Even though I could feel his dick throbbing inside of me and that was not helping my case in fighting against the demand he gave.

I tried to steady my breathing into the soft breaths like I do when I’m about to fall asleep, panicking in my mind, forgetting that Toge can hear, “I want to so badly.! I need to! I need to!” In my defense, I really couldn’t help it. He told me to do it in cursed speech. Every part of my body was screaming at me to, pain coursing through my skin when I denied the action.

Maki’s voice lowered, sounding like she was getting suspicious which terrified me, “What is she doing lying on you like that, Inumaki?” But, I couldn’t think of anything from the burn of the speech curse and it seemed like he knew that. Because even as she was right there and asking him, he began to subtly roll his hips into me, helping relieve it.

The way he said the ingredients in response were getting a bit butchered, “Nntsuna m-mayo..” And his swear word kept slipping when he pushed himself deeper into me, “Ikura…” I held my breath as I tried not to make a single noise. Too hard. Way too hard. This was such a dangerous game to play. But, why did I love it so much?

It seemed like Maki knew something was up from the way she responded, although she didn’t know what, “Ooookay… Well, I’m not going to get any information out of you any time soon.” Keeping it at that, I could make out her energy walking away from us to the other side. A huge wave of relief washed over me as I arched back into a sitting position on him, spreading my legs so he could move more freely. We were right back into it with our lust at an all time high.

Toge did most of the work when it came to it, but he didn’t seem to care. His dedication in making me feel amazing nothing short. Fingers slipping down to play with my bud after I became labored in my moans, edging me closer and closer into cumming again. My walls tightened around him before more of my liquids rushed out onto his lap, becoming a huge mess.

I wanted to apologize for ruining the bottom half of his shirt, but I couldn’t. He wouldn’t let me, continuously ramming into me until he was approaching his own end. There were several actual curses from him inside of his head as he neared it, no longer those innocent food items he loved, “Fuck.. How does it feel so.. tight? Fuck, that feels too good..! Y/N}… I think I’m going to… I need to..!”

Then he pulled out at the very last moment to cum around my lower back, most of it landing on my underwear and sabotaging them like I had with his clothing.

I was exhausted, both of us panting and taking a break by resting on the bench. Pulling up my panties as dirty as that was. I liked to think it was like a finishing touch. I gave him a small peck on the cheek, muttering weakly, “I like you… Toge…” Too shy to say the word ‘Love’ despite what we did just now.

Using the last of my strength, I kept up the connection of our brains to hear him reply back, not hearing a hesitation to his voice in the slightest, “I love you, {Y/N}.” Then I passed out on him quickly after, ironically fulfilling what we feigned earlier.

[raitonsfw]

𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: Chisaki had some time before his sadistic ordeals, leaving you planted on his thigh with a towel underneath you. How long could you last as you rutted against him, his hand welting against your ass to show his dominance over you? Not long, you deemed.

warnings: 18+ mdni, sut, fem!reader, whipped!reader, mean!chisaki, thigh riding, spanking, hand marks, masochism, commands, dirty talk (moreso mocking), edging/orgasm denial, use of chisaki's quirk (to stop reader from touching herself), thoughts of dirtying chisaki (reader gets off on it), chisaki's very much in character with his germaphobia, pet name-ish (pretty pet), lot going on in such a tiny word count oops.

a/n: this was one of my FAVORITE thirsts to write, holy crap; I fucking adore this man, ive watched the shie hassaikai arc sooo many times. its by far my favorite arc ever of my hero academia alongside the current manga arc. i was screaming with joy when i saw the chisaki thirst come in, hehe. wc: 600ish. v-day m.list | m.list

thirst count: 1

divider credit: @hitobaby & @firefly-graphics

“You’re lucky to be sitting on my lap right now…” Chisaki sneered and honestly, you were lucky; even if he did lay a towel down against his thigh so he wouldn’t itch with insanity. His plague mask rendered useless to you, all you wanted to do was pull it off and actually see him speak in his uttered tone but you knew he wouldn’t allow your hand to so much as raise if you did so. 

“Pretty pet, am I right? Go on, use my thigh sweetheart.” He commanded wryly, his gloved palms hovering over your body but he didn’t dare touch. 

You had been stripped down to your lace panties, a long black shirt covering the swell of your ass and you felt so exposed in the cold room he had you cornered in. It was downtime for him, something he so desperately needed and lucky for you, he brought you along to keep him company. What you didn’t expect was to beg for his attention and ultimately end up on his lap, your cunt dripping onto the pristine towel that covered his lap. 

You wonder how fast he’d throw you off if it was his bare thigh, the slick soaking through his trouser’s fabric and you felt yourself start to move against his thigh at the thought of it. You wanted to get him dirty, the lace of your undergarments rubbing deliciously against your clit and you let out a quiet moan. As you grinded against him, he watched with molten eyes that glistened with every move you made. His eyelashes stuck out in your vision and you averted your gaze from him, a deep blush spreading against your cheeks.

“Oh, shy aren’t we? C’mon, you can do better than that…” Chisaki’s gloved hand came down, striking you hard against the flesh of your ass and you yelped out– holy fuck, he actually touched you. “Go faster, doll.” 

You wanted him to touch you again– your cunt sliding directly against his thigh now and you so desperately wanted to lay your arms on him and just take it, but what would that even get you? Disassembled and rearranged to your heart’s content, the thought pillowing your mind as you sped up your movements. The ache of your cunt against his thigh made you woozy and you felt your orgasm rushing towards you, the dull pleasure building between your thighs. 

You could feel yourself trembling against his leg and a harsh sigh breathed above you as you started to drag your pussy in tight circles, dredging up any type of friction you could get. You were mad, you thought– pure mad as you snuck your hand down towards the front of your panties but Chisaki’s quirk was faster and he reassembled your hand back where it should’ve been in the first place– behind your back and unable to move. You yelped at the sting from the use of his quirk, but were thankful he didn’t use it for bad intentions; just to rein you in from your impending orgasm. 

This only accelerated the heat that threatened to swallow you whole, a simpered smile casting over your face and you were so so close to cumming all over his leg– such cleanliness about to be deduced to nothing but a muddled mess. Your high raced up your spine and you let out a string of whimpers, his name falling from your lips as you felt the coil pull and–

His palm stopped you, a loud smack echoing off the bland walls.

“Ah, enough. Slow down.” Chisaki instructed, a bit of paranoia seeded within his voice and he brought his hand down again, this time leaving a welted mark and you jumped– no, relished at the pain that bit at your ass harshly. “I didn’t say you could cum all over me, now did I? Know your place, Y/N.”

[alieinthemorning]

TOUCHED STARVED LEONA WITH VERY PDA AFFECTIONATE FEM!READER AAAAAA

A Familiar Touch [Leona Kingscholar]

Content: Touch-Starved, Fluff, Emotional Hurt and Comfort, Soft Leona Kingscholar

Pronouns: None

Reblogs: Let me know that you enjoy my work and want to see more, so don’t forget to like and reblog (and comment in the tags. I love seeing people’s rambles in the tags)!

This work’s concepts, plot and original characters are my own which means I do not allow any sort of creative theft nor do I allow my work to be entered into any sort of A.I. bots. Thank you for respecting my space and boundaries.

How long had it been since someone had run a brush  through his hair? Gently undoing each and every knot and tangle. Who hummed a tune that was different from the one from before, yet familiar all the same.

He felt like a cub again, and honestly?

He didn't like what feelings that dredged up.

However, he also couldn't bare to remove himself from such bliss.

Call him selfish, he didn't care.

Chartreuse eyes open to find your own closed, a soft smile gracing your features with the sunlight from the open blinds of his balcony haloing you.

You were beautiful.

"Sounds like you're thinking pretty hard there." Your voice cut through his thoughts.

He was glad that your hands were in his hair and not on his face because he couldn't keep himself from flushing.

He sighed, tail thumping against the sheets. "You're imaginin' things."

"Sure, sure..." You paused, then asked. "Are you thinking about home?"

He froze.

Seven, you were too perceptive for your own good.

And he had already confirmed your suspicions by freezing up like damn prey.

He pulled himself up, showing you his back (putting up some kind of wall between the two you).

You placed a hand on his back, however, completely disregarding his weak attempt at closing you off.

"Talk to me."

His eyes slid close as his body leaned forward. Elbows on his knees and head in his hands. Your body followed him.

"When I was little my mother would always brush my hair before bed. She would take her time and hum this little tune and just..." He trailed off, losing himself in the feelings of those memories.

He didn't like thinking of is ma. It brought up too much to the surface. Too much that he refused to sort through.

Too much about her.

Too much about his father.

Too much about his brother.

Too much about how much he has lost.

"Leona." One again, you pull him from that headspace. "I hope I'm not over stepping but..."

"I'm so happy that I'm you trust me with things like this."

He released a breath he didn't realize he was holding. "'Course I trust you with this.'

"I love you."

Guess who's feeling better from the Big Ick?

It's me (i've been up for 3 hours lmao)!

Anyway, this took forever and I didn't end up using the other two requested traits of: short and bubbly, but hey we got touch-starved (did we tho?????)

We got something nice and soft and that's all that matters uwu

Ko-Fi | Commission | Masterlist

[munson-blurbs]

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

Summary: Now that you're on decent terms, Eddie can consider you a friend. Just a friend...right? (Takes place between chapters 5 and 6)

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI!), oral (m!receiving), p in v sex, masturbation (m)

WC: 1.1k

Eddie should’ve known that something was weird when he found himself back in his room in Wayne’s trailer. He hadn’t lived there since Harris was ten months old and he’d finally scrounged up enough money to move out, but here he is. His cherry red guitar rests on his lap as he strums absently, but the chords don’t sound right. They’re too tinny, too flat, too—

“Hey there, handsome.”

His gaze snaps to the doorway, sucking in a harsh breath as he takes in your form. You’ve got one arm leaning on the door frame, the other perched knowingly on your hip. Your blue dress—the same one you wore to the Hideout—clings to your every curve. 

“Whas’ the matter?” you coo, slowly walking towards him. “Cat got your tongue?” The guitar disappears as though it simply evaporated, and you straddle his waist with ease. “‘S too bad, ‘cause I was hoping to put it to good use.”

Your fingers brush over his belt, unlatching it with ease. Eddie moans as your lips press hungry kisses along the side of his throat, subconsciously wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you closer. “Fuck, baby, I need you,” he murmurs, rutting against you in a desperate attempt to relieve some of the pressure. 

He feels you nod as you move your hips in tandem with his, your lace panties grazing the rough denim covering his fly. He maneuvers himself out of his jeans, then his boxers, as you watch him with a grin. 

“‘S big,” you muse, bringing yourself to your elbows and taking him in your mouth. Eddie has to hold himself back before he loses all control; he doesn’t want this to end before it has to. The strap of your dress slides down your arm as you twist your hand around what won’t fit between your lips. The movement exposed your left breast, and he swears he’s died and gone to Heaven. 

“‘M almost there,” he mumbles, groaning loudly as you hollow your cheeks to deepthroat him. “Pretty girl, my pretty girl, you’re all mine.” The words leave his mouth before he can realize what he’s implied. 

You release his cock, shiny and slick from a mixture of his pre-cum and your saliva. “Yeah, Mr. Munson? ‘M all yours?” When he nods, you lick a stripe up the length of his shaft. “Are you all mine?” You look up at him with innocent eyes, awaiting his response. 

He doesn’t make you wait long, nodding again and adding, “all yours, fuck; I’m all yours.” He throws his head back, letting out choked, ragged breaths as you bring him closer and closer—

“And now, here’s Scott with sports at seven! Scotty, what do you have for us today?”

Eddie sits up with a jolt, haphazardly slamming on his clock radio until the overly chipper voices cease. It was just a dream. You weren’t his, and he wasn’t yours. He was still perpetual bachelor Eddie Munson, free to be with whomever he wanted. Not tied down. No strings attached. 

So why had the thought of belonging to you gotten him harder than he’d ever been in his life?

He grits his teeth as he tiptoes out to the bathroom, closing the door behind him and turning on the shower. He tries to distract himself while he waits for the water to warm up, wracking his brain for anything else to think about, but he can’t shake off the vision of your lips around his cock.

But why you? Jeez, he’d finally started to make things right with that Toni Braxton tape, and now he has to go and have a sex dream about you? A sex dream that’s given him a painfully hard erection? Jesus, why couldn’t it have been anyone else? Now when he sees you, he’s just going to picture what his subconscious dredged up. 

Ten minutes into his shower, the water is starting to run cold, but there’s still no sign of relief from his, uh, predicament. 

Fuck it, he thinks grimly, time to take matters into my own hands. Literally.

He wraps his fingers around his length, giving slow, languid tugs as he practically begs his own brain to conjure up any other scenario. Demi Moore in Ghost. Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. Heather Locklear in Melrose Place. Hell, Ms. O’Donnell from Hawkins High! Anyone but Ms. Sweetheart.

Try as he might, Eddie can’t stop imagining you. The honey-sweet sound of your voice, the tender touch of your lips on his neck, the beautiful moans that make him tighten his grip and stroke faster. He slams his empty fist against the shower wall in pure frustration, wincing at the pain and at the potential for his son to wake up. Luckily, he doesn’t hear Harris stirring, and he shakes his head when he realizes that he has only one option.

Eddie bucks his hips, biting his lips in an attempt to muffle his own guttural groans as he gives into the fantasy. He imagines you sinking onto his cock slowly, whimpering with pleasure as he splits you open. The warmth of your pussy, the electricity flowing between you as you rest your hands on his chest; his instinctively on your ass to help you rock back and forth. Once you find a steady rhythm, he’ll move one hand so his thumb can press against your clit, rubbing it until you reach your climax. Chanting his name over and over, “Eddie, Eddie, right there; God, you’re so fucking good.”

Your walls clenching around him will bring him to his own finish, filling you with his cum until it spills out of you. Eddie feels his release–his real release–coating his hand as he grunts out a gruff, “fuuuuuuck!” This is usually where the fantasy ends and he washes himself off, but his mind continues to pursue your imaginary tryst. 

The tandem rocking will slowly cease as you both catch your breath. Eddie will be content to stay inside you forever, but you’ll pull yourself off of him and adjust your dress. The space between your eyebrows will crease as you search for something—your purse, maybe? 

And Eddie will…what? Tell you that it’s been fun and thanks for the good time? Make another empty promise to call? 

No. Dream Eddie will do it right. He’ll whisper against your kiss-swollen lips, “Please stay. You’re mine and I’m yours, remember?” And once you settle in next to him, he’ll assume the big spoon position, pressing gentle kisses to your shoulder blade until the two of you fall asleep, legs tangled up in each other. 

When Real Eddie finally switches off the shower, he’s sure of two things. One, he should’ve followed Dream Eddie’s lead in the first place. And two, he’s got a big, fat crush on Ms. Sweetheart.

--

taglist:

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[horatiocomehome]

Hi I was having Thoughts about my HC that Sif has heart problems, and how it’s unclear if Loop is actually like. human anymore.

So! have some post canon sif and loop conversation!

~~~

> Hey, Loop.

"Yeah, Stardust?"

(You feel their voice in your cheek where it rests on their chest, as the two of you lie in the shade.)

(You can hear them breathing, too.)

(But... you can't hear a heartbeat.)

> What even are you?

“...”

"OMG Stardust you can't just ask someone that!" Loop giggles.

> Sooo, you don't know.

"What you see is what you get! Your guess is as good as mine."

> I would've thought you would have some idea..."

"..."

(You grin.)

> After all, you look pretty bright!

"HA!"

“...But really, I don't know much. I just made my wish, and a star fell down to me. I felt like, for it to work, I had to eat it. So I did. When I woke up... I was the lovely Loop you see now!"

(Ate a star!)

(That doesn't tell you much, but you feel your heart beating faster. Their chest is still quiet.)

(Like so many times recently, memories seize you.)

(Memories of your heart going too fast and tripping over itself.)

(Memories of dying.)

"Stardust?"

(You breathe in, and out.)

(You brush your hand over the star on Loop's chest. It feels like when your hand falls asleep. It's warm.)

> Do you think you have a heart?

> Woah, I thought we were going steady! Why am I heartless all of a sudden?'" Loop jokes.

(You smile, a little.)

> You know what I mean.

"Well… I don't have any reason to think I don’t have one."

> You don't have a heartbeat though?

"...Oh!”

(Loop is quiet for a little. They're looking off into the distance.)

"Actually," they start, "I haven't really noticed my heart at all, since the loops."

(!)

"Just like you, it did me in a couple times back then!" Loop continues, a little too brightly. "I got used to paying attention to it, but I haven't had to, since!”

"...Guess it's a benefit of the job."

(So they really don't have a heart.)

(You roll over and bury your face in their chest.)

> Well then, I don't have to worry about you dying before me!

(You try to say it like a good thing, but you aren't fooling anyone.)

(You want to spend as much time as possible with them. With all of your family.)

"Stardust… you don't have to worry so much, you know. We’re safe now!"

> But what about MY heart?

> What about the times it killed me??

> What if that happens again?!

> I DON'T WANT TO LEAVE YOU!!

(Loop wraps their arms around you. You silently hug them back.)

"You know, even stars burn out eventually."

(As soon as they say it, you know it's true. Even though, if you'd tried to dredge that up earlier, you wouldn't have found anything.)

"And I'm a very small star! So let's not get ahead of ourselves, okay? I might beat you to it after all!"

> You say that like it'll make me feel better.

(Loop flicks the top of your head.)

"Listen, Stardust. Our heart gave out because we were putting so much stress on it. But we're not doing that anymore, right?"

> ...Right.

"So you should have lots more time to spend with all of us!"

"Besides," their voice is light again, "you shouldn't be thinking about death so much anyways! we've spent more than enough time dying already."

› But...

"Just live, Stardust. Stop worrying and live.”

[mysterious-moonstruck-musings]

Destiny & Deliverance: Chapter 26

Destiny & Deliverance Masterlist ||| Main Masterlist Dieter Bravo X OFC New as of 11/13/2023

Series Summary: Natalia Cohen is experiencing major life changes, beginning with leaving an emotionally abusive husband. She is learning how to navigate life on her own while dealing with high functioning anxiety, depression, and mild PTSD. Everything is looking up for her. She is a highly respected consultant for a major LA firm, has her best friend, Lauren, by her side, and is on her path to healing. Everything changes when she meets a handsome and broken stranger on a work trip. He turns out to be a well-known actor, with a heart-breaking past. They quickly develop a connection that will forever alter their lives. 

Warnings: Themes dealing with mental health, emotional trauma, alcohol use, and discussions about suicide. There will be fluff, tears, spicy language, and smut. This will be a slow burn type of story. Read at your own risk.

Chapter Quote: "I don't want to do this."

I lost track of how much time passed as I watched Dieter sleep. My mind was racing through so many thoughts that it overwhelmed me, making it impossible to process anything at all. It was hard to pull myself away from him, but I felt like I needed a few minutes to myself to just…feel. I was relieved when the nurse walked in to check on him, feeling like that was my out. I let her know that we would be in the waiting room if he asked for us. When she turned her attention back to her checklist, I excused myself from the room.

As I walked down the hallway, I took a moment to observe my surroundings. Seeing patients through open doors in various states of critical care was making me feel anxious. The sounds of beeping machines dredging up old memories that I thought I had packed away for good. The pungent smells of antiseptic and fragrances of chemical based cleaners caused my stomach to churn. I hated hospitals and I hated that Dieter was having to go through this experience. I truly hoped that it would at least have a positive outcome so that he could finally get the proper help he needed.

I ducked into a single-user bathroom to have a minute to myself, knowing it would be my only opportunity. After locking the door behind me, I walked over to the sink and gave myself a once over in the mirror. I looked like hell. My air-dried curly hair was now a frizzy mess from my fingers incessantly pulling at it. My eyes were circled in darkness from the lack of sleep, red and swollen from crying. The t-shirt I had quickly thrown on before leaving the house was wrinkled and had a stain on it. No wonder the ER doctor didn’t take my word for it when I said I was fine. I wouldn’t have believed me either. 

I tried to smooth my hair down but didn’t get anywhere with it. Luckily, I had a hair tie on my wrist so I could pull it back into a messy bun. I took a minute to splash some warm water over my face. My skin felt sensitive and raw from the salty tears that had fallen, no matter how much I willed them not to. I switched over to cold water for a little shock to my system to try and wake up some. After splashing a few handfuls of the cold water, I stood watching it pool in my cupped hands, allowing it to spill over the sides. I could feel myself disassociating, until the flashes of memories started to break through.

Images of Dieter lying on the floor, his eyes opening briefly as I tried to wake him before they rolled back and closed again. The way he looked lifeless in my lap on the drive to the hospital, with a weakened pulse. The sight of him being pulled from my embrace and loaded onto a gurney surrounded by nurses and doctors as they worked to stabilize him. It was too much, and it was all crashing down on me at once. I had almost lost him because I was too fucking selfish to take the risk and reach out to him when I knew in my gut that something was wrong. I completely ignored it all and focused on being angry at him, just to make myself feel better about the whole situation. Now, I only felt anger toward myself.

I snapped back to the present, letting the water spill from my hands before reaching to turn off the faucet. I placed my wet hands on the back of my neck for a moment, allowing the coldness to soothe the heat radiating through my body. I closed my eyes and took a few measured breaths. Then, I reached for paper towels to dry my hands and face before throwing them in the trash. I placed both palms on the sink, leaning against it with my head down. I closed my eyes again, still taking deep breaths to try and center myself.

When I raised my head and opened my eyes, meeting my reflection in the mirror, I hated the person that I saw. My biggest fear had been losing myself again. I had allowed it to happen without even realizing how the darkness was slowly consuming what little was left of me. The harder I worked to keep it away from me the easier it was for the darkness to stealthily pull me into its numbing embrace. The sad part is, I welcomed it with open arms under the guise that I was doing what I needed to do to move forward and be happy.

For the first time since Dieter ended things, I realized I was slowly turning back into the person I was before him. The person I was when I was with Justin. The scared girl who pretended everything was fine and hid her feelings away out of fear that someone would see how bad things were. I had been conditioned to behave this way to protect Justin and all his wrong doings. I had been conditioned to hide my feelings away so that I wouldn’t realize how unhappy I really was. I could feel the walls starting to crumble down again and I found myself craving a drink but knew I couldn’t go down that road. I knew I needed to get back on track and handle things the correct way, for the sake of myself. I wasn’t going to be able to be there for Dieter unless I finally got my shit together. For real this time. I needed to find better ways to cope and actually process my feelings, rather than lock them away. If I didn’t do this, I knew I would be lost to the darkness forever.    

I was drawn away from my thoughts by a knock on the door. I took one last deep breath and moved to leave the bathroom. As I continued my trudge down the hallway, I somehow managed to focus my mind back on the current situation that needed attention, trying to think through the next steps. I wasn’t even sure what those needed to be since I had never dealt with anything like this. This was definitely going to be a team effort.

When I entered the waiting room, I was met with more activity than I expected. Everyone was working to check out various inpatient treatment centers for Dieter. Alex was reaching out to his contacts for feedback while Lauren and Gabby did research on their phones. I immediately joined in. We were determined to find something away from LA that wasn’t one of the upscale places celebrities usually went to that catered to them. He needed to be somewhere that would not treat him any differently than other patients and really focus on helping him get better.

We finally settled on a facility in Tucson, Arizona called Sanctuary Hills that appeared to be promising. It was away from paparazzi central, making it less likely that anything would leak about Dieter being there. It also came highly recommended by Dr. Wilson and several other individuals that Alex spoke with. It would be a long drive, but more than worth it if the place was as good as everyone made it out to be. Once the decision was made, Gabby called to get more information and to get the admission process started. 

We did not want to give Dieter the opportunity to change his mind, so Gabby and I planned to drive him directly to the facility once he was discharged from the hospital. Sanctuary Hills was kind enough to send us a list of things that Dieter could and could not bring with him, so I offered to go pack a bag for him on my way home to nap and freshen up. Gabby planned to do the same while Lauren and Alex stayed behind to spend some time with Dieter once he woke up.

When the Uber driver pulled into the driveway of Dieter’s house, I could feel my chest tighten as anxiety set in. Being there after what had happened the previous evening felt odd, almost sort of eerie. It seemed like there was bad energy emitting from the once happy place that I had considered my second home.

As I used Gabby’s key to unlock the front door, I suddenly felt a wave of emotion sweep over me. I could already feel a lump forming in my throat. When I stepped inside and really took in the space for the first time, I realized how much of a mess it was. I had noticed it the night before but didn’t register the severity because I had been focused on helping him. Dieter’s comforter and a pillow, my pillow, were haphazardly laying on the couch. There were old takeout containers randomly sitting around the living room and kitchen, some still containing food that looked like it had hardly been touched. I assumed that was the cause of the questionable smell permeating throughout the house. The TV was laying on its back on the floor with a busted screen. There were empty and broken liquor bottles of all shapes and sizes laying everywhere. Most of the broken bottles were concentrated on the floor under the painting I had left for him, like they had been thrown at the wall. The painting appeared to be untouched, which was oddly comforting to see.

It was difficult to see the physical evidence of how bad he had been hurting. There was no way that I could look at the sight before me and not feel anything. I simply could not pack this away somewhere in my mind and not deal with it. It was too much, but I needed the raw emotional confrontation. This is what finally caused my walls to crumble down, forcing me to feel everything at once. The sadness, betrayal, hurt, pain, anger…all of it. I couldn’t hold back the flood of tears any longer. My vision blurred momentarily before the tears started to fall incessantly. I didn’t even bother to wipe them away as I made my way toward Dieter’s bedroom to start packing a bag for him.

If I thought the living room and kitchen were bad, his bedroom was even worse. The bed was completely torn apart, and the frame broken. The nightstands were turned on their sides and the lamps that once set atop them laid in pieces on the floor. The mirror on the dresser was shattered and the drawers and clothes were thrown across the room. There was a hole in the drywall where the headboard used to be and another beside the bathroom door. It felt like I was having an out of body experience, the scene around me looking like it had been pulled straight from a movie.

I stood there for a time; both of my hands placed over my mouth in shock as I looked around the room. I had a hard time reconciling the thoughts of Dieter causing such destruction. This wasn’t him. He wasn’t a violent person. This was the culmination of his pain finally breaking him. My legs suddenly felt weak at that realization. I sank to the floor, continuing to take it all in as the tears fell freely down my cheeks. It was hard to see a space that held so many wonderful memories of us reduced to a pile of rubble. Maybe it had been even harder for him to be reminded of those memories while it was still intact, a caricature of how things used to be.

I don’t know how much time passed before I finally pulled myself up off the floor. I needed to take a breather. I walked back to the living room, where I noticed Dieter's phone still laying on the floor from where he had dropped it. My car keys were on the floor nearby, where I had apparently dropped them in the midst of my rush to get to him. I leaned down to pick up the keys and phone. I figured Gabby may need some of the contact information from his phone to deal with his work stuff, so I didn’t want to forget it. I walked over and plopped down on the couch before setting the two items down on the coffee table next to one another.

The lock screen of the phone lit up, catching my attention. I picked it up for a closer look, realizing the wallpaper was the infamous picture of us that he had posted on Instagram. Except this was the unedited original. It was in color, uncropped, and not blurred with filters. I had never seen this version of it. It almost broke me to see how happy and content we both looked. Even though Dieter’s head was turned slightly, I could still see the rare spark of happiness in his eyes. The crease that he often had between his brows was smooth. It was hard to remember that for a short time we had been blissfully happy. It seemed so long ago now. I realized that I would give anything to go back to that. We both needed the good times, to experience those rare moments of joy, when things didn’t feel like an uphill battle.

I grabbed the comforter that was halfway hanging onto the floor and wrapped it around me as I laid down onto the couch, phone still clutched in my hand. The scent of Dieter’s cologne surrounded me in a comforting embrace as I continued to examine the picture. A low battery alert appeared on screen. I chuckled to myself, thinking how my battery felt low too. I eventually set his phone back down on the table and drifted off to sleep.

I was jolted awake by my cell phone ringing in my back pocket. When I sat up, I realized it was now dark outside. I had been asleep for longer than I had planned to be. It took me a few seconds to work out where I was as I wiped the sleep from my eyes. I quickly stood and fished the phone out of my pocket to see that it was Gabby calling me. She wanted to check in and see how I was doing and if I needed help with any of Dieter’s things. I didn’t, of course. That was something I wanted to deal with on my own, but I appreciated her offer, nevertheless. It felt good to know that I was not alone in all of this, that this time around there were other people close to Dieter and me who understood what was going on.

Gabby went on to share that Alex had called to say the hospital would be releasing Dieter the following morning. She was planning for us to make the seven-and-a-half-hour drive immediately after picking him up. Then she and I would take a flight back to Los Angeles. It was going to be a long day, but it was worth it if it meant he was going to get the help he needed. We made plans for her to pick me up in a rental car and be ready to go first thing in the morning.

Once Gabby and I hung up, I realized I had a text from Aubrey. I had only just realized that I never called into work that today, so I was surprised I had not heard from her sooner.

Aubrey: Lauren called me last night to let me know what was going on. I hope everything is ok. Please take all the time you need, for the both of you. Keep me updated and let me know if you need anything.

I sighed heavily. I seriously did not deserve her or Lauren. They gave me more grace than I deserved sometimes. I fired off a quick update to Aubrey to let her know that both Dieter and I were doing ok and that I would need a couple of days off. She responded immediately to let me know that would be fine.

Since that was off the “to do” list, I decided to pack Dieter’s bag. I pulled up the list that Gabby had sent to me. He was basically limited to three days’ worth of comfortable clothes and nothing else until they considered him to be fully stable. He couldn’t even have his glasses or contacts, something he was definitely not going to be happy about.

I sent a quick text to Gabby reminding her that Dieter would need a phone list since he couldn’t have his phone. I figured she might have a better idea of who needed to be listed on that and that she would probably have most of their numbers. Then, I made my way to his closet, ignoring the mess in the bedroom as best I could. I found that his closet was completely untouched and still somewhat organized. I noticed that half of it was now empty, which reminded me of the conversation we had about making space to keep some of my things there. He had clearly held up to his word on that and never bothered to change it back. I could feel the lump forming in my throat with that thought. I shook my head, dismissing the memory so I could focus on the task at hand.

I quickly grabbed a pair of his gray workout shorts and two pairs of striped pajama pants (that did not have drawstrings) and three plain t-shirts from the shelves. I found his bright green robe and removed the waist belt before adding it to my stack. I had to dig around to find slip on closed toe shoes that didn’t have any metal or laces on them. At the bottom of his shoe pile, I found a pair of black croc clogs that I had never seen him wear, but it’s what he was getting because it was the only pair I could find that met the requirements. After grabbing some of his boxers and socks, I started looking around for a bag. I eventually came across an extra-large tote bag that could barely hold everything. He wasn’t allowed to bring his own toiletries, so I didn’t have to worry about any of that. I quickly ran through the list again making sure I didn’t miss anything. I made a mental note to double check on the phone list with Gabby and get his medications back from the hospital. Other than that, he couldn’t have anything else.         

Before I left Dieter’s house, I collected all the food containers and took out the trash. That was something that needed immediate attention due to the smell alone. The rest would have to wait until I had more time. I wanted to make sure to get everything cleaned up before he came home, whenever that would be. The mess was the last thing he needed to deal with, and he most definitely did not need any reminders of what happened to him.

I collected the tote bag, my phone and Dieter’s, and my car keys before walking out to my car and heading back to my house. After I got home, I gathered a few things I would need for our quick trip, set my alarm, then immediately went to bed. Surprisingly, it didn’t take long for sleep to take me. I was physically and mentally exhausted and I could feel every bit of it.

The morning alarm came quickly. I felt like I had only just dozed off as I sat up in bed, stretching. My head was throbbing, and I could feel that my eyes were still swollen and stinging from all the crying I had done the past two days. I hoped a hot shower would help alleviate the tightness I could feel from the inflammation and ease my aching body. I drug myself up out of bed and took a very long shower. I mostly stood under the hot spray, unmoving, as I stared at the floor. I felt like I needed to mentally prepare myself for whatever the day would bring. I didn’t know what to expect, which left me anticipating all possible outcomes, including the worst-case scenarios. My only hope was that Dieter stayed calm throughout the trip and didn’t change his mind about accepting help before we got him there.  

I spent longer than I should have in the shower, causing me to rush around to get ready. Not that I had planned to put a lot of effort into it anyway because it was definitely a messy bun and sunglasses kind of day. I was glad that I had gotten things ready the night before or else I know that I would have ended up forgetting something. Before I knew it, Gabby was pulling into my driveway. When I got into the car, she handed Dieter’s phone list over to me so she would not forget about it. I added it to his bag before I handed over his cell phone to her.

I could tell she was just as anxious as I was from her tight grip on the steering wheel and tense posture. We hardly said a word to each other during the drive to the hospital. Both of us were clearly deep in thought. The way I felt was almost indescribable. I was anxious and my chest felt tight, but in a different way than before. My head was buzzing as the thoughts raced uncontrollably. I felt hopeful, sad, and angry all at the same time. I was having a hard time wrapping my head around how it had actually come to this. It almost didn’t seem real. I was starting to feel disconnected, like I was watching everything from the outside. I knew that probably wasn’t a good thing, but also felt like it might be the only way I could get through today. I would just have to deal with the consequences of it later.  

When we arrived at the hospital, we found that Alex was already pushing the discharge process along as best he could. He had spent the night with Dieter so he wouldn’t have to be alone. Alex had to be exhausted since he had been at the hospital the entire time. He had the least amount of sleep out of all of us in the past forty-eight hours, so I knew he was ready to crash. Lauren arrived soon after Gabby and me so that she could take Alex home. She had stopped to get us all coffee and breakfast too, which was very much appreciated by all.

Dr. Wilson briefly met with Gabby and I to give us Dieter’s bag full of medication and to go over paperwork. He gave us copies of everything that Sanctuary Hills would need but indicated they had sent electronic copies as well. He let us know that they gave Dieter a sedative thirty-minutes prior because he was still being uncooperative with staff and exhibiting high levels of anxiety. He noted that it should last about eight hours but included another dose with Dieter’s medication in case it was needed. That was not the news that Gabby and I wanted to hear, but we were appreciative that Dieter was given something to calm him down during the trip. We were hopeful that being with us would help him relax some too.

When we were finally able to make our way to Dieter’s room, we found him sitting on the bed picking at the food Lauren had brought for him. It didn’t look like he had eaten much of it. He seemed a little dazed as he sat in silence staring around the room at nothing. Lauren and Alex gave Gabby and I an apprehensive look as our eyes darted between them and Dieter. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting but I don’t think this was it. I assumed his behavior was like this because the sedative was kicking in, making him feel out of it while dulling the anxiety.

I walked over to stand next to the bed, reaching out to push Dieter’s hair back out of his eyes, which caused him to focus his attention on me for the first time. He knitted his brows together as he stared at me in silence for a moment. Then he reached up to lightly tug on my shirt, pulling me to sit down beside him. I wrapped my right arm around him as I moved to sit closer to him, then reached up to rub the curls at the nap of his neck. He immediately melted into my side and laid his head on my shoulder, his arms tightening around me. I took a stuttered breath as I fought back the tears that were threatening to fall. He was so fucking pitiful, and it was breaking my heart to see him like that.

After several minutes passed and when I eventually felt like I had my emotions under control, I asked Dieter if he wanted to change clothes and get ready to leave. He nodded slowly against my shoulder. Gabby handed him a set of clothes and the crocs I had gotten from his house as he got up to go toward the bathroom. While we waited for him, a nurse came in with the last bit of paperwork for Gabby to sign off on. By the time he came back out, we were ready to go. Gabby went out ahead of us to get the rental SUV and pull it up to the door. The rest of us made our way downstairs, accompanied by two patient care assistants. They kept a close eye on Dieter the whole way, which made me question what he had been doing to the staff that was so “uncooperative”. I felt like they were expecting him to run off or something.

Once Gabby pulled up, we gave Alex and Dieter some space to say their goodbyes. Alex had placed one of his hands around the back of Dieter’s neck, pulling their foreheads close together as he talked quietly to his older brother. Something about the sight caused Gabby, Lauren, and I to immediately tear up. The intense emotional look that passed between the two of them said so much. Dieter tightly nodded along to whatever his brother was saying before they pulled each other into a warm embrace. After a quick hug from Lauren, Dieter crawled into the back seat of the SUV. He stared at me wide-eyed and unblinking with his sad puppy dog eyes, seeming to be asking a question without words. I gave him what I hoped was a reassuring smile before climbing in to sit next to him as he scooted to the other side.

Dieter sat wringing his hands and staring down at the floor as we waited for Gabby to finish filling Alex in on our plans for the day. I reached over to grab his left hand and he visibly relaxed some. He glanced over at me with a tight smile before turning to stare out the window. He still looked paler than normal. Seeing him in his own clothes made it more apparent that he had lost some weight, which added to his frail appearance. I knew the current sight of him would haunt my dreams for weeks to come.

Soon after we got on the road, I noticed Dieter was having a hard time keeping his eyes open as he leaned his head against the window.

I gave his hand a small squeeze as I eyed him, “You ok?”

“Those fucking drugs they gave me are making it hard to stay awake,” he said flatly without looking my way.

I started rubbing small circles on his hand with my thumb, “Do you wanna lay down?”

His eyes locked with mine in an intense stare, like he was surprised at my words. I moved to grab a small blanket and pillow from behind the seat that Gabby had brought for him. I handed him the blanket and placed the pillow in my lap as he watched me intently. I don’t know why, but I suddenly felt like I was dealing with a scared feral animal from the look he was giving me. I didn’t want to spook him, but I also wanted to make sure I was there for him in the ways he needed. I reached toward him and motioned with my hand for him to lay down. He moved to get comfortable the best he could in the small space, folding his body to fit and putting his head in my lap. He sighed deeply, eyes closing as he tried to make himself comfortable. Once he was situated, I started running my fingers through his hair and lightly scratching at his scalp. It wasn’t long before his breathing changed to deep steady breaths as he fell asleep.

The drive was long and quiet. I could occasionally feel Gabby’s eyes on me in the rearview mirror as I watched Dieter sleep. My thoughts were still quickly cycling through every second of our time together, trying to figure out when things started to get so bad. I had a feeling Gabby could see everything I was feeling written on my face during that drive. She never questioned it though. There were times that I glanced her way and she seemed to be just as deep in thought as I was.

About four hours into the trip, Gabby asked if we should stop for food. Since Dieter was still sleeping, we decided to push through the drive without stopping. I got the feeling that she wanted to get this whole process over with as soon as possible, leaving little room for interruptions or complications. I couldn’t blame her since I was feeling the same way, along with the nagging feeling that the worst part was still to come.          

It turns out, I was right. By the time we reached Sanctuary Hills, the sedative was wearing off. Dieter had woken up about twenty minutes before we got to the facility, and I could tell his anxiety was ramping up. It started with his fingers twitching, and the restless moving of his legs, until he eventually sat up in his seat. His eyes began to drift across everything he could see in the car. Eventually the outside caught his attention as he started to fidget more and wring his hands together again. He refused to take the other pill that Dr. Wilson had sent with us because he was tired of sleeping and how the drug was making him feel.

As we pulled into the parking lot, Dieter’s eyes fixated on the building while he roughly scratched at his chin. I grabbed his hand to make him stop in hopes it would calm him down some. Gabby and I exchanged worried glances in the rearview mirror as she unbuckled her seatbelt. Gabby and I got out of the car and walked around to the passenger side. Gabby pulled Dieter’s door open. He sat staring at me, wide-eyed. He looked terrified. I gave him a tight smile as I reached out my hand for his. He finally relented and took it as he got out. He shuffled slowly behind me as we walked toward the entrance. Gabby grabbed his bag out of the back and quickly caught up to us.

Once we entered the facility, Dieter stood closely at my side with a tight grip on my left hand as he chewed on the thumbnail of his free hand. His head was down, but his eyes were scanning over everything in sight. I tried my best to sooth him and keep him calm while Gabby worked to complete the check in process, occasionally asking him questions for the paperwork she was filling out. He answered quietly, in a barely audible voice, never removing his thumb from his mouth to speak.  

One of the ladies helping with the check in process started to go through Dieter’s bag to check for “contraband” and ensure all of the items were in compliance with the regulations. As she was checking everything, she asked him if he had any jewelry or a cell phone that he needed to turn over to us before Gabby and I left. I felt Dieter tense beside me as his energy changed, from anxious to almost hostile. When I turned to look at him, I could see the panic and anger flashing in his eyes. The inevitable meltdown was finally happening. 

“My phone? You mean I don’t get to keep my fucking phone? No. I didn’t agree to that.”

He started shaking his head frantically from side to side as he backed away from me. I calmly walked over to him and placed both of my hands on his face, softly stroking his patchy beard, in an attempt to calm him as he continued to ramble on.

“How am I supposed to call you without my phone? What if I need you? This place is like a fucking prison. I don’t want to do this.”  

“Dieter, listen to me.”

He finally paused his movements as he stared directly into my eyes. What I saw there made me feel like someone was carving my heart out of my chest with a rusted spoon. I have no idea how I managed to hold it together, but I did.

“You can’t have your phone, but you can use theirs. You have a set phone time to call us. They want you to focus on getting better, so you can’t keep it with you.” 

“A set phone time? I only have your number memorized. Not the others.”

I was momentarily taken off guard by his admission, feeling more emotional than I already had been if that were possible. He obviously wasn’t thinking rationally right now. This wouldn’t be an issue for most people, but Dieter was used to always having his phone to stay connected with those he cared about. It was understandable the absence of that connection would upset him.

“Gabby made you a list of phone numbers so you can call us. It’s in your bag.”

This answer didn’t seem to dampen his anxiety in the slightest, “But I can only call during certain times? What if you don’t answer and I can’t call back?”

“I’ll answer. I promise… and if you need anything between calls, your case worker can call for you if it isn’t something that can wait.”

I could see the tears brimming in his eyes as he continued to stare at me, a pleading expression on his face - either about the phone, his stay, or something else entirely. I was not sure. I tried to keep my face neutral for his sake, but I knew I was failing. My brows drew down together without my permission as my vision blurred slightly from my own tears. He lowered his head and turned away from me, his shoulders shaking slightly from his shallow breathing. He started to clench and unclench his hands at his sides as he moved further away. I quickly wiped at my eyes and glanced over at Gabby and the ladies behind the front desk. They were all staring at the two of us with worry and concern in their eyes. I took a deep breath before walking over to Dieter, pulling him away from the onlookers and enveloping him into a tight hug. I could feel his fingers knotting in the back of my shirt as he spoke through his tears into my neck. “I’m so fucking terrified to do this and I don’t want you to leave me.” I could feel his grip tighten further as he quietly added, “We didn’t get any time to fix things.”

I gently ran my fingers through the back of his hair, “Don’t worry about that, I’ll be right here when you’re done. We can talk about it later. I want you to focus on yourself right now. When you’re better, you’re coming home to me, ok? I’m not going anywhere.”

He slowly pulled back to meet my eyes. He seemed determined now as he searched my face.

“I don’t want to spend another night away from you after this.”

I gave him a genuine smile before leaning my forehead against his and closing my eyes to savor the feeling of him, trying to memorize every little bit of him that I could. I felt a tentative hand cupping my cheek as I opened my eyes to look up at him again. I leaned into his gentle touch, for the first time in months. I had missed it so much more than I realized. I couldn’t help myself. I reached up and entwined my fingers with his hand on my cheek before pulling them to rest between us. I used my other hand to pull him toward me and gently placed a kiss on his lips.

The way his face lit up as a few more tears slid down his cheeks made my heart clench. He didn’t hesitate to reach up with both hands and pull me in for a second and third kiss before briefly resting his forehead against mine, the physical intimacy that we had to do without for months seeming to ground him a little. He took a deep steady breath as he backed away.  “Alright, let’s get this shit over with.”

Dieter’s mood shift was surprising and also a relief. He seemed to be having a moment of clarity, which I took full advantage of as I pulled him over toward Gabby so that he could help her finish with his paperwork. Things went much faster after that than I expected. Before we knew it, we were saying our goodbyes. He didn’t let go of my hand until he absolutely had to. He still looked sad, but seemed in better spirits than he was when he arrived. I was thankful for that since it made it more bearable for everyone involved.

Gabby and I had to hurry to catch our flight. We had just enough time to turn in the rental and grab a small snack as we rushed through the airport. We didn’t talk much on our way home. The topic of her brother seemed to be off limits for the both of us, as an unspoken agreement. We were both so drained from the events of the last few days that we needed a break from it. I could tell she was appreciative of having me there though. It was obvious in the small smiles and gentle hand squeeze she would randomly give me during our journey.

By the time I finally made it back to my house, I was running on empty. It was late and all I wanted to do was crawl into bed, but I somehow mustered up the energy to take a quick shower to wash the day of travel away. After that, it didn’t take long before I was out.

In the days that followed, I spent my time cleaning up the disaster that was Dieter’s house. I ended up having his bedroom furniture hauled off since several pieces were broken. It wasn’t worth the effort to try and fix them. Once that project was done, I didn’t have much else to do besides work and I did that from home. I did make an effort to spend time with Gabby and Lauren when I felt up to it. I felt it was important to work on my relationship with them since I had been so absent recently, and I didn’t want to risk isolating myself again as I was trying to cope with things. 

After a week had passed, nothing could take my mind off the fact that Dieter hadn’t called me. I was worried that he was starting to realize how badly I had handled this whole situation on my end. He was the one that ended things, but I had made zero effort to fight for us. I had let him go like it was nothing. I would expect him to be hurt by that. Gabby assured me that he hadn’t called because he was having a hard time coming off of his medication and wasn’t feeling up to much phone time. What little he had called to speak with her was to get things sorted out for work and those conversations only lasted a few minutes. She said it was obvious by the way he sounded that he wasn’t feeling well. The case worker told Gabby that he was having some withdrawal symptoms after the first few days of decreasing his medication dosages and he was having a hard time with it. I knew that was most likely the case, but that still didn’t keep the doubts from creeping in, imagining worst case scenarios.

It was nearly two weeks after we had dropped Dieter off at Sanctuary Hills when I got a surprise visit from Alex. He awkwardly greeted me as he walked through the doorway carrying a very large parcel wrapped in brown paper. I eyed it quizzically as he maneuvered it into the living room.

“What is this?”

“Dieter asked me to bring this to you that night I stayed with him at the hospital. I’m sorry, I’m just now getting around to it. He sent a not so polite reminder through Gabby about it yesterday.” 

“I take it you haven’t talked to him either then?”

Alex sighed as he shook his head, “No, not yet. Gab said he’s still kind of a mess right now because of the medication changes. She mostly talks to his case worker, I think.”

I nodded in understanding. Knowing that he hadn’t reached out to Alex either did offer some reassurances that it wasn’t just me. It hurt me beyond words to know that he was having such a hard time with the medication changes. I hoped, for his sake, that it did not last much longer. 

Alex moved to hand me the large parcel he was holding. I took it as I gave him a questioning look. I noticed his eyes lit up slightly before he gave me a smirk.

“It’s the painting from the art fundraiser.”

I knitted my brows together as I took it from him, ripping the front of the paper to reveal the painting that had turned me into an emotional mess that night. Once I had it completely unwrapped, I set it against the wall and stepped back to look at it. I realized there was something very familiar about the two figures.

More after the image

I turned to Alex, who still had the same smirk on his face, “I don’t understand. How did he know about the painting?”

His smirk slowly turned into a wide smile, “He painted it. He wanted to surprise you with it that night, but obviously that didn’t work out…”

I put my hand to my mouth, gasping audibly. Now I understood the reason I felt drawn to it that night. The two figures were us. I could feel the tears prickling at the corners of my eyes, threatening to make their escape.

“I don’t understand, when did he have time to do this? We were together constantly before he left for Canada.”

Alex moved to stand next to me, “He started it right after he got back from New York. He took a break when he went to film that movie in Mallorca but picked it up again when he got back…before he found you again.”

I chuckled in disbelief, “Well this certainly adds a whole other layer of feelings that I wasn’t expecting.”

“I know he did a lot of it at night, when he couldn’t sleep. He told me he couldn’t get you out of his head. I’m pretty sure he fell in love with you that first night you spilled your drink all over him. He wouldn’t stop talking about you, so I encouraged him to look you up. I don’t think I’ve ever in my life seen him so nervous to do something,” Alex let out a small laugh at the memory.

I didn’t even try to hold the tears back after that. How could I? It said so much about Dieter’s feelings. Alex glanced over at me, realizing my emotional state. He put his arm around my shoulder and pulled me in for a gentle side hug.

“This is the first painting he’s done in years…just so you know. You definitely woke up something inside of him. We could all see it. I really hope you two can make it work once he gets out of that place. I think you’re good for each other.”

I was taken aback by Alex’s candor regarding his brother. His words were so unexpected given how quiet and shy he always was around me. I appreciated the fact that he felt comfortable enough to open up to me some.

“I’m not sure how much I’m supposed to tell you, but fuck it, you should know. The nickname he gave you, and that phrase… la estrella del norte, la luz en la oscuridad…that’s something our mother used to say to our father. So, to me and Gabby, it’s a big deal that he used that. We’ve never heard him say it to anyone before.”

I couldn’t help the way my face scrunched up at his words. I was one hundred percent about to ugly cry. I put my hand over my eyes to hide it as Alex pulled me in for a tight hug.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you,” he said into the top of my hair.

“No, I’m not upset. This is a happy cry. It’s just…touching, I guess. I didn’t know that. This is a lot of information to take in and process. Thank you for telling me. I really needed this right now.”

Alex backed away and gave both of my shoulders a gentle squeeze and offered a small smile.

“Well, I won’t keep you any longer. Let Lauren know when you're free and feeling up to it and we can grab some dinner, yeah?”

I nodded and gave him a small smile as I walked him to the door.

After Alex left, I sat down on the floor in front of the painting, taking in every paint stroke. To the casual observer, it was probably just a nice painting of a couple in an embrace under the night sky. I, however, understood the subtle symbolism of the fog and darkness that surrounded the man, but not the woman and the bright star placed just above the woman in the background. The fact that something so simple could say so much was amazing to me. It had me feeling every emotion all at once.

I could not believe the origin of the nickname he had given me, or that he had started working on the painting well before he found me again. I always felt like there was more to the name, but I was not expecting that. He obviously had strong feelings toward me from the start. Looking back, I could no longer justify my reasoning for not being with him from the beginning. I hated that we had missed out on all of that time together.

I had a lot of thoughts swirling through my head that evening. I spent more time than I probably should have staring at that painting, but it was forcing me to process things that I had been avoiding. By the time I finally pulled myself up from the floor, I was mentally and physically exhausted. I went to bed after that and suffered through a night of restless sleep.

Sixty days after Dieter entered Sanctuary Hills, Gabby received a call from him, after mostly only communicating with his case worker over the past two months. He asked her to attend an in-person family counseling session there at the facility. She immediately agreed and got it scheduled. The day it happened; I was an anxious mess while I awaited news about the visit. He still hadn’t called me, or anyone else for that matter. We didn’t really understand why, but his case worker assured us that he was making progress and doing well. He was trying hard to focus on getting better and working through things a little at a time. He was very focused on his healing journey and doing everything that was asked of him. It was hard for me to understand it, being so far away and consumed by worries, but I was proud of him just the same. I was excited to know he was finally requesting to see his family and was hopeful that was a positive sign. 

As it got later into the evening, I was beginning to get concerned since I hadn’t heard from Gabby yet. She had promised to call when she left Sanctuary Hills. I sent her a few texts but did not get a response. I was about to try giving her a call when I heard a knock at the door. I was surprised to see that it was Gabby. The look on her face made my stomach drop. The fact that she hadn’t called and was now showing up with this look on her face couldn’t be a good sign. There was no greeting. She jumped right to the point, “Talia, I’m sorry to just show up, but can we talk? I don’t know who else to talk about this with and I need to talk about it.”

“Yeah, come in.”

We both walked over and sat on the couch. My hands were already fidgeting as the nerves and anticipation quickly built up. Every scenario running through my mind was scary and I wasn’t sure I could handle whatever it was she was about to say. Gabby immediately burst out into sobs. I pulled her into a hug as I tried to suppress my own panic.

“Gabby, I need for you to tell me what’s going on before I have a fucking stroke over here,” I said into her hair. She sighed heavily before pulling away to look at me.

“Dieter told me what happened that night, with mom. I wasn’t prepared for it. I can’t believe he kept that to himself all these years and it fucking kills me that I didn’t do more to support him in dealing with it. I didn’t know he was the one who found her. I always thought it was one of the workers.”

Her sobs continued as I digested her words. I felt instant relief that it wasn’t something worse, something I didn’t know of yet, but at the same time my heart broke for her. I know it had to be hard for her to hear. Hell, it was hard for me to hear.

“I’m sorry, no one else knows about it. I didn’t know who else I could talk to about it. He told me that you knew… I just needed a minute to fall apart and process it before I go home.”

“Hey, take all the time you need. I know it’s a lot to digest,” I said as I rubbed gentle circles on her back. 

“I just wished he would have opened up sooner and shared that burden with me. Maybe he wouldn’t have gotten so bad if he had. I should have tried harder to make him talk to me about it.”

“Gabby, I don’t think it would have mattered what you said to him. He wasn’t gonna talk until he was ready.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. I just feel terrible that I didn’t know. I don’t think anyone did. I bet dad didn’t even know.”

After a few minutes of silence, she seemed to pull herself together. She reached over to grab my free hand and gave it a gentle squeeze as she smiled up at me.

“He looks so good though…healthy and alert. I really think the treatment is helping. He’s expressing his feelings so well…I - I’m honestly not sure I’ve ever heard him talk that much about how he feels.”

I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face as happy tears slid down my cheeks.

“He said he’s gonna call you soon. He’s nervous to talk to you for some reason and embarrassed about this whole thing. I told him he didn’t need to be, but you know how he is. He misses you though, I could tell. I lost track of how many times he asked about you.”

I reached up with both hands to wipe the tears from my face. It was comforting to know that he was thinking about me. I knew it was selfish of me to think that way because he should be focusing on himself, but I would be lying if I said it didn’t make me feel better about things.

Gabby didn’t share much more of what they had talked about. Some of it was things he wanted to talk to me about himself, so I didn’t want to push for more details. Once she finally felt composed, she left for home. She had had a long day of travel and was exhausted.

She and I had gotten so close in the last two months. We had been spending a lot of our free time together, along with Lauren and Alex. It truly felt like I was part of a family with them. I loved that she was now comfortable enough with me to share her feelings openly. It was something we had all been doing since Dieter had been away. Even Alex had opened up more. Even though what had happened to Dieter was devastating, there was a silver lining in it. It had brought us all closer together. We were stronger for it and ready to welcome him home to all the support he could possibly need.

The next morning, I had just finished making a quick breakfast when my cell phone started ringing. When I glanced over at the illuminated screen, I saw it was a Tucson, Arizona number. I had waited two months to see this number appear on the screen. My breath immediately caught in my throat as my eyes teared up. I briefly hesitated to answer as the nerves took hold. After a deep breath I hit the answer button and raised the phone to my ear.

“Hello?”

“Talia?”

A/N: Y'all still with me? How are you feeling after that one? Progress? Maybe? As I have said before, digital art is not one of my strengths, but hopefully what I attempted to do gives you an idea of what I see in my head for Dieter's painting. Again, this one looks better in my head too. LOL! Wasn't that a sweet moment between Talia and Alex though? Also, that moment between Dieter and Alex hit me in the feels too. Then of course, the whole of the Dieter and Talia interactions in this chapter. Poor Gabby... now she knows everything. So many feels in this one! Aaaahhh!😭 Next chapter our dear Dieter and Talia will be reunited in a controlled setting to work through their issues together. It will probably be another rough one. We will get Dieter's official diagnosis and with that you will get a Deconstructing Dieter Bravo post. We will get some details on Talia's past which will also include a Today's Musings post for supplemental reading. So, you will get all sorts of goodies with the next chapter. 😉 In case you missed it, I have included the mood board for this chapter below. Last but not least, a huge thank you to my wonderful beta, @for-a-longlongtime. Seriously, it wouldn't be as good without her feedback. As always, please share your thoughts and theories. You know I'm a sucker for them. 💜

Next Chapter

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[tragedybunny]

Fangs and Fairytales - Chapter 1

༺Summary༻

The Netherbrain has fallen and Baldur's Gate has been saved. Astarion and Serafina begin their life together in that very moment. Together they journey to find a way for Astarion to walk in the sun again. There's no shortage of adversity along the path, including Serafina's own warlock patron, Queen Titania. But together they can face it all and find their own sort of happily ever after.

༺Pairing༻ Astarion x Serafina (Female Tav/OC)

༺Warnings༻ Angst

༺Word Count༻ 2711

༺A/N༻ Many many thanks to @icybluepenguinicybluepenguin for being my friend, my beta, and my cheerleader. And Sera's biggest fan! And thanks to everyone from my server for always being there for me. I finally dove in and started a proper post-game long fic, I hope you enjoy it!

Read on AO3 All chapter here on Tumblr

“I’m sorry, I have to go.” The anguish in Astarion’s voice stole Serafina’s breath away, and without hesitation, she turned to follow where he was running. 

She didn't get one step away before there was another distressed cry from Karlach behind her. Whirling around, she found her friend, wreathed in infernal flames, barely hanging on. “Engines finally cooked, held on just long enough.”

Her heart wanted to follow Astarion badly - he was so afraid that when the moment had come, she’d leave him. But Astarion was clever and tough, he’d survive the sun and they’d find each other. Karlach on the other hand, Karlach was dying. 

Karlach gave her a brilliant smile, and Sera kept a sob from her throat. She couldn’t let her do this, just give up and die.

But her words ran dry as her thoughts were pulled again and again to Astarion. It's Wyll whose voice breaks through to Karlach, and Sera knew she’d be forever grateful to him.

His eyes were bright with affection as he held out a hand to Karlach. “Live on with the Blade of Avernus at your side.”

It's not what Karlach had wanted, but as long as she lives, there's hope. And at the very least she and Wyll would be together, their peculiar love story's ending not quite written. 

With their bittersweet departure, Sera's thoughts turned to her own love, another story she hoped wasn’t over.

Her legs wanted to give out, exhaustion weighing on her as adrenaline faded from her body. Still, she willed herself to stand, to take one more deep breath. Astarion. 

He needed her, maybe more than ever.  Any fleeting hope the tadpole's effects would be permanent had just been violently ripped away from him. Her eyes swept over her remaining companions, Lae’zel had gone to liberate her people from Vlaakith, now with Wyll and Karlach gone, there were so few of them left. “I-I have to go find him,” her voice caught, making her feel small. “I'll see you at the Elfsong.” 

“Go, we'll see what we can help the city with.” Shadowheart put a gentle hand on her shoulder and whispered a soft word. 

The pain in her body ceased and nerves and muscles thrummed with reinvigoration. The last of Shadowheart’s magic, most likely. “Thank you.” Sera pulled her into a quick hug, mindful of threatening tears, before starting on the path across the docks Astarion had taken. 

Eyes searching desperately in every shadow, she prayed to any god that would listen that he had just stopped to take shelter, just waited for her, trusted she would come. Every empty spot of shelter dashed those hopes.

The merciless sun continued to rise, evaporating any lingering pockets of dark. “Astarion!” she finally shouted desperately, hearing only silence in return. 

He was gone. 

Just as she turned to head back to the others, to return to the Elfsong and hope he followed, something caught the toe of her boot with metallic scraping. An open sewer cover. 

The stench of a city's worth of waste wafted over her, making her stomach heave and dredging up memories of the journey to Bhaal's temple. And in her chest, her heart ached. A sewer would be one of the last places he'd want to go. 

For a second she hesitated, maybe she should go back and at least bring one of the others. They were exhausted, though, and that would eat up precious time, time that was taking Astarion farther away from her. Resolving to face whatever waited below, she started down the rickety ladder to the waiting muck. 

Her feet hit the ground with a splash, and fetid liquid spattered up her legs. There was one path ahead leading toward the city from the dock, a murky tide flowing from it toward the sea. 

“Fiat Lux.” Four bright orbs surrounded her, lighting the gloom as she started to follow the tunnel at a brisk pace. 

“Astarion!” she shouted, her voice echoing off the walls, but not drawing out any answer. 

Hells, how had he gotten so far ahead of her? 

Desperately, she wanted to move faster, to go from jog to flat out run, but she knew she’d wear out far too quickly. As it was, her lungs already protested the exertion after everything else today. She settled for calling his name another time and blinking away the tears at the silence after. 

The tunnel came to an intersection, and the rest of the city’s sewer system sprawled out beyond it. Footprints in the muck ahead of hers looked fresh enough and seemed Astarion’s size. Tracking wasn’t her expertise but it seemed the best shot she had. They headed toward a tunnel running off to the east. Maybe he was headed back toward the Elfsong after all, just through the safety of the sewers.

The hope would have to be enough, she told herself, as she followed the tracks. The orbs of light gently revolved around her, still lighting her way. “Astarion please, stop if you can hear me!” 

Of course he didn’t answer. 

At first, it felt like fate or something was on her side, as the wet muck alternating with stone made just enough tracks for some vague trail to follow. And they kept heading east, exactly where she wanted him heading. 

Her legs ached and the foul air burned her nose, but still, hope led her on. She’d prefer to catch up to him, but if he made it back to the inn safe, she’d settle for that. Another junction lay ahead, two sets of pipes, one on top of the other, poured water into the room from the north. A questionable rope netting served as the access to a platform that would lead to the top of the pipe to the north, and another small walkway led further east. 

Sera was about to follow it when she stopped short noting the wet footprint headed towards the north. That was… not what she had expected. If she was following Astarion, she had no idea where he was headed, and if she wasn’t following him, she’d probably just wasted a massive amount of time. 

The exhaustion began to creep in as she stood still, taking in the setback. Which chance to take? Hope or tenuous evidence? Why didn’t he just wait for her! Her gloved hand came up to flick away the wetness rolling down her cheek. All she had wanted was to go back to the inn, if it still stood, and hold onto him, to let the horror of the day fade away into an indistinct background noise for just a few hours. But here she was trying to chase him down through a fucking sewer. 

It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. And she was wasting time again, with no more idea which way to go than before. Her eyes flicked back and forth between the two possibilities, despair beginning to wrap itself around her like the grasping vines Arabella had learned to conjure, until it was beaten back by a sudden, new hope. 

She may not be able to tell where Astarion had gone, but there was someone who could. Her hand came to rest over her chest, where just beneath her armor lay the token that Titania had given her when their pact was made; a diamond-shaped white pendant with the inlay of a blue star. 

“Titania, your Highness…” She tried for deference and eloquence to persuade the Fey Queen - who held no love for a vampire spawn she saw as an obstacle - but her thoughts were as ragged as her emotions. “Please,” was all she could manage. 

“My child, you really will chase that spawn to the ends of Faerûn, won’t you?” 

“I…”“I know, you love him.” Titania didn’t sound angry as much as, resigned. “Given the events of the day, I shall be merciful. Astarion did fulfill his word to be at your side through the battle. So I will give you a clue to where your beloved has gone.” 

Fey always had to make things into a riddle or game, but Sera held back her frustration. If she offended Titania she was likely to get nothing. 

“Where do any vermin go when threatened?” There was a pause as Sera's mind tried to decipher her words. “Back to the nest.” 

Sera steadied herself as Titania’s words made her world unsteady. “Oh gods, why would he do that.”

There was no response, the presence of the Fey Queen had gone.. She had her answer though; he was headed north, straight back into hell. 

Standing straight and drawing in a breath, she headed for the rope net. She had to get to him, she couldn’t leave him alone in that place. And staying in the sewer was probably still easier than going through the wreck of the city. 

By the time she reached the sewer entrance where once they’d found a girl who’d been lured there for a “party”, the effects of Shadowheart’s magic were gone, and her chest heaved as though lead weighed it down. They had left the way open, a failsafe should the other spawn need to leave quickly. It wasn’t necessary, as it turned out that part of the massive structure beneath Szarr manor was an entrance to the Underdark. Astarion had received a note one night from Dalyria that spoke of what they found and that they would be leaving as quickly as possible, before any of them could get out into the city and lose control. The letter had asked Astarion to come visit before they left, but he’d obstinately refused. 

“I have no desire to see the inside of that place again. And it is not like we’re real family.”

Sera had bit her tongue, it wasn’t as though they didn’t have enough to worry about, and she was sure that a colony of vampires would not be that hard to find if they wished to later. 

Beyond the sewer entrance, the air of the defiled space where Cazador once planned his greatest triumph was cool with the faintest hint of mustiness. No one had bothered to scrub the floor of the bastard’s blood, leaving it to turn a rotten brownish hue. The body had been burned, Leon hadn’t wanted to take chances. Another tidbit from Dalyria’s note.

Sera found her way up the stairs, past the cells, and to the elevator easily enough. The place was burned into her memory, truthfully, the place where the one she loved had suffered so; the place where she had almost lost him. 

The elevator rose to the surface with a metallic whine and Sera ascended into Cazador’s office, unsurprised that she hadn’t managed to catch him. The wet prints on the tacky carpet meant she was close. 

“Just a little further,” she whispered aloud, pushing onwards. 

From Cazador’s office, she moved on to the ballroom; again someone had moved the bodies but hadn't cleaned the ichor of the fight that had taken place.

A pack of werewolves had been an unexpected addition to their foes. But Astarion’s reaction had been almost more unexpected; the indignation at their presence, referring to it as his home. She would have thought he wouldn't want any association with the place. But then again, it was all he had known for two hundred years. 

And now he'd been forced to come running back. 

She turned from the ballroom and the memory of that fraught day. The rest of the house was just as she remembered as she jogged through halls, bracing herself as she approached the kennels. Just the thought of them… What they had done to Cazador hadn't been nearly satisfying enough. 

“Come out of there!” From up ahead, through a door that had been left hanging open, a sign of the manor’s abandonment, a familiar voice startled her into a momentary standstill. But recognition soon spurred her on again.

Quickening her steps, she found Dalyria pounding on the door to the spawn dormitories. Her heart sank, she already knew who she was shouting for. 

Taking slow, deliberate steps towards her, she crept most of the way down the hall before calling out softly, “Dalyria.” It wasn't wise to startle a vampire, even an ostensibly friendly one.  

Crimson eyes, both alike and unlike the ones she knew so well turned toward her, narrowed in suspicion, as Dalyria crouched into a defensive stance. 

The two women stared at each other for a moment, Sera suddenly less confident that Dalyria wasn’t about to pounce on her. But then her expression softened with recognition and her body relaxed. Briefly, Sera wondered why she was still here when all the other spawn had moved on. A question for later, there wasn’t time now. 

“You! By the gods, I was worried something had happened to you. Please, come reason with him.” 

As Sera approached, hope and dread both warring inside her, Dalyria turned her attention back to the door, raising her voice. “Brother, please-”

“I AM NOT YOUR BROTHER DAL AND Y-.” 

The ferocity of his words stunned her, like a wild, dangerous thing, cornered and lashing out.

“Astarion!” Sera shouted loud enough to shock him out of whatever tirade he was planning.  

Silence hung heavy in the air for what seemed like forever. And for the first time, she doubted. What if he didn’t want to be found? What if he was intent on running from her? 

“Please,” she reached out, resting her hand on the closed door, hoping that he wasn’t lost in himself, “open the door.” 

She held her breath until the metallic click of the lock filled the quiet. Dalyria silently nodded, her expression grateful, before withdrawing to give them space. Perhaps she was afraid her continued presence would only agitate Astarion further. 

Heart heavy, Sera pushed the door open, to find Astarion sitting on the edge of a bed in the last place he’d ever wanted to go again. His armor was still spattered with gore from the final fight, and he was slumped over, head in his hands, burned flesh still visible enough to make her want to weep for him, even as she knew his vampiric regeneration would heal it soon enough. 

“I didn't know where else to go,” he answered her unspoken question. 

“Love.” She started towards him, but he put up a hand. 

“Don’t,” he warded her away, voice cracking with threatening tears. “Don’t pretend everything is fine. Don’t lie to me, now that you’ve seen everything.”

Astarion was right, things would most assuredly not be the same now. But that was often the case in life. “I won’t then.” She took a hesitant step closer to him. “Things are going to change.” 

At those words he looked up at her, putting the full extent of the sun’s work on display, and sniffled miserably. “I knew it.”

She gestured to the bed beside him. “May I?” 

He answered with a shrug, having turned his eyes back to the floor.

Delicately, Sera lowered herself into the bunk next to him, the elven chainmail she'd acquired as comfortable as it always seemed to be. She yearned to reach out and take him in her arms, to comfort him. It wasn’t quite the time yet. 

“As I was saying, you're right, things can't stay the same.” Beside her, she felt him tense. “Living at night is going to be an adjustment, I'm sure. It may take me a while. And we'll have to find ways to make sure you're always safe.”

“You don't-”

“I told you on the roof that day, I'm not going anywhere.”

Now. She reached out, and, careful to avoid his burns, pulled him into her arms. 

“It won't always be easy, I know that. But I'm not giving up.”

There was a time when he would have argued with her, told her she was wrong and this wouldn't work. Instead, he leaned his weight against her and drew a breath he didn't need. “Promise?”

“Always. Now do you feel up to getting out of this awful place or should we wait?” 

“I-I think I need a little time.”

She gave him a reassuring squeeze. “Take all the time you need. I'll be right here.” 

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[see-arcane]

Last Night

It isn’t a dream. It isn’t moonlight or mist. It’s him.

The pretense shed, the door at his towering back, the teeth bared with a glee that borders on the giddiness of a child finally unwrapping a gift dangled out of reach until the appropriate holiday. All the world is shrunk down to the pieces of him Jonathan has had to endure by increasing increments. Mouth, hands, eyes. The latter are trying to hook him. He feels the push of them just as the Weird Sisters’ influence had fogged his sense when he was too near to sleep to fight.

But he is awake now. So horribly, implacably awake with that fearful energy which visits all prey spotting the pursuer’s jaws. Run! that energy demands. Run! Hide! Fight! Something, anything!

With no mode in which to answer any of these instincts, the energy is left to pace through his veins in frantic circles. It feels as if his own blood is leaping to answer the Count’s wishes, churning itself into a froth. Sickly, he thinks he sees exactly that answering delight in the horror’s pallid face; a twitch of the nostrils, a salivating shine on the saber teeth, a darkening of the eyes. A wolf before a lame calf.

“I do wish to thank you before we part. Most sincerely.”

Jonathan doesn’t answer. Doesn’t dare meet the trap of the eyes. Watch the red mouth. The white hands.

“You have given me so much more than I dared hope for after all this time.”

“I only,” his voice is thinned down to a rasp. A raw quavering. “I only came to sell you a house. That was all.” The flatness of the fact seems almost comical when said aloud. A noise that can’t decide between a laugh, a sob, or a scream lodges in his throat.

“And so you did. So anyone might have. Anyone else,” the Count takes a step closer, as Jonathan moves back a pace, “would have come and gone within a day. Less than. A mere workman, a living appliance good only for one thing before being discarded. Not so for you, my friend. You have gifted me such aid and pleasure in your company that it merits mention. That and more.” Step forward, step back. The door is visible over the high cloaked shoulder. Locked? Unlocked? Does it matter?

Jonathan digs for a response that isn’t bile, begging, or more incessant playacting to suit the damned game. All he can dredge up is more hot coal in his throat, more wet burning behind his eyes. He wants to wake up. Please, God, now if no other time, let the nightmare end, let him out, let him wake—

But you are. You are awake.

A single word makes it past his tongue. Empty and pleading, but there.

“Why?”

“Because.” Step. “Since your coming, since your staying, I have been met again and again with a joy I thought dead in me.” Step. “Dust piled on the clockwork of my mind has been swept away.” Step. “You have brought lifeblood into my nights and made me feel things I feared were buried in long-gone ages.” Step. “A lifetime of paling distractions, suddenly alight with something worth attention.” Step. “Such a perfect prelude to dear England. But more than that…”

Jonathan’s heel strikes a leg of the bed.

Door, door, get to the door—

He gets scarcely an inch before the white hands are on him. One is the manacle grip on his arm that first stole him up into the caleche and drove him away to this benighted hell. The other locks around his jaw like a cold vise, seizing him where the crucifix had once barred that touch on the night of his last shave. With bleary inanity, Jonathan wonders if there would be any difference if he wore it now rather than leaving it pinned as scant protection on the wall. The Son hangs his tiny head and cannot guard him from his spot above the bed.

Not that Jonathan could look him in his carved eyes now. The hand at his jaw has wrenched his face up and the red eyes are worming their way into him like maggots coiling through loam. A braided sensation of dread and calm, terror and welcome stitches itself through him. When he tries to open his mouth for a last word—he can’t guess whether it would be a prayer or an animal-cry of protest—there’s only the slackness of a doll.

“…you have made me feel young, my friend. In so many ways.” Cool digits stroke and cradle. “For that, you deserve all I mean to give.”

The red stare does not blink. Does not move. Does not end as the pressure of it softens the world’s edges into a dreaming haze. Jonathan feels himself going away. Away…

Dracula says things he can no longer hear. The room tilts as he is tilted, neck taut, back folded over the strut of a dead man’s arm, and it is bliss not to know the words whispering their endless litany in his ear. Murmurs of youth, of forgotten pleasures, of life, of love, of a dozen other endearments made profane through the sieve of those lowering teeth are all lost to him. Even the farewell, padded as it is in stroking hands and cold lips, hushing him away to an oblivion without sight or tears, melts into ether.

When the blood begins to flow, he does not have to see the turning of the wild white mane into a fall of iron.

[aingeal98]

so, steph in the canon text choose to carry her pregnancy to term and give her child up for adoption. this is generally understood to be bc the writer of that issue/run was pro life, but taking the text at face value, what does it say that steph chose what she chose? is it coherent with her character? could it be read as another symptom of internalized mysoginy? or is it incoherent with her character/would it be more thematically interesting to have her have an abortion?

Really really good question I've been mulling this over in my head for weeks. To answer the last question first, I honestly think the issue with the pregnancy arc is less about the choices Steph makes and more to do with how clunkily anti abortion Chuck Dixon is. Like I do think it's very possible to be fully pro choice but also unwilling to abort your own pregnancy. I fought alongside my friends to repeal the abortion ban in Ireland but at the same time I can never picture myself ever getting one, because for me the second I become aware of it it's real to me, not just a clump of cells. But I know full well that's just my own sentimentality and there's no scientific backing, like logically it IS just a clump of cells and also there's a whole patriarchal society dedicated to stopping women from having bodily autonomy, which is why I'd never try and push that belief on others or discourage them from whatever choice they feel is best. So basically I would struggle hard to ever do it, but if you want to, hell yeah abort that thang! No judgement from me or moral reasoning needed from you.

And because of this I could see Steph being the same. I could even see certain story beats playing out the same if they were allowed just a bit more nuance instead of being a conservative after school special. Steph lashing out at her mom and counsellor for suggesting an abortion, not because it's a Bad Thing to do but because it feels to her like her mom is already trying to sweep this under the rug like it never happened, and Steph herself hasn't even come to terms with it. Steph feeling isolated from her peers, again highly plausible it just needs better dialogue than what we got in the original. We could even have scenes of Steph grappling with the idea of an abortion, and wondering how much of her aversion to it is her own choice and how much is internalized misogyny. I think her arc of deciding to have the baby and give it up works best, although a well written abortion au would be super interesting to read.

So basically for me the choices Steph makes in the original run are very coherent with her character, and what actually makes it fall flat is the clunky dialogue and heavy handed anti abortion writing. If Steph was written by someone other than Chuck Dixon during that time, I could see her being pro choice while also being unwilling to abort the baby herself. And it could have been written with a lot more nuance and acknowledgement of what teen mothers go through, instead of just what Chuck Dixon thought Good Teen Moms should do and say in this filthy world of liberal values.

From what we got in canon, I'd say Steph probably grew out of the anti abortion mindset as she got older. I don't think she'd ever regret her decision, but I do see her looking back and cringing at some of the ways she acted because wow the internalized misogyny JUMPED out. And if she ever came across another sobbing teenager with a positive pregnancy test, I'd say modern adult Steph would make sure they knew all their options with zero judgement. And helping that young girl would probably dredge up a million different emotions that she would struggle to name.

So tl:dr, taking the text at face value Steph has boatloads of internalized misogyny specifically around abortion. But I don't actually think her choices are out of character, more so that the entire narrative is written less as a story and more as a moralizing conservative rant on pro life where everyone feels like a caricature. It would actually be quite simple to tweak the dialogue and clunky scenes and end up with similar character choices just... better written. Where her mom and counsellors aren't evil for suggesting abortion but Steph still feels hurt and lashes out anyway. Where her peers say the wrong things and leave her feeling alienated. Where she weighs her options and gets more narrative space to mull over all the consequences. It would be my preferred way to rewrite the arc, but there are a lot of changes that could be made and I'm open to reading about all of them.

Thank you for the ask! Sorry it took so long to respond I was chewing over the whole concept haha.

[ghouly-boiiiii]

My Name Is Cooper

Chapter 1

A Finger for a Finger

(Lucy x Cooper Howard / The Ghoul)

Next Chapter >>

Tags: angst, fluff, romance, humor, banter, femdom, alcohol and drug use, eventual smut

Summary: Follows Lucy and The Ghoul on their journey after the events of Season 1. Lucy has to come to terms with what she’s learned about the company and people she once trusted with her life and the future of the world, and the bounty hunter's rough exterior starts to break down as he begins to see his old self in her.

After coming across an abandoned vault, they decide to spend the night there and take advantage of its remaining amenities. While there, Lucy finds some of Cooper Howard’s old movies… The same movies she grew up watching with her dad. She puts them in, and as she recalls distant memories and struggles to cope with the truth about her father, she comes to another startling realization…

Authors Note: I just wanted to write something with these two. Not sure where it's gonna go, but I've got at least 3-4 chapters in mind, and there will be smut somewhere in there lol. I just think they have an interesting dynamic and much potential for witty banter and an interesting romantic/sexual relationship. Especially with the idea that Lucy may or may not have had a major crush on the actor Mr. Cooper Howard. And that The Ghoul may or may not become an absolute lost puppy for the first woman who looks at him in *that way* after 200 years of being a walking corpse.

It's gonna be an adventure. Let's see where this takes us, y'all. lol

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 2,016

SPOILER WARNING: Contains all the spoilers

No trigger warnings except eventual sexy time with a zombie man.

“You’re awful quiet there, Vaulty.” The Ghoul said, breaking a long bout of silence as he glanced over his shoulder at his human companion, with Dogmeat faithfully prancing beside him.

Lucy didn’t look up at him. She just stared at the ground, dredging her feet heavily through the sand. Dawn had long passed and the sun was now beating down, but she could barely feel the burn on her cheek as her mind raced with the things she now knew.

“You ain’t said a word since we left Cali… Hell, you ain’t even beggin’ for water.” He joked, trying to prod a response out of her.

“Lucy.” She said simply.

“What now?”

“My name is Lucy.”

“Yeah? I know that… So what?”

“That’s my name…” She looked up at him, her brow slightly furrowed and voice sharp with agitation. “I just thought since we’re gonna be traveling together, maybe you could use it sometime…”

The Ghoul looked over his shoulder again for a moment, grinning slightly. He seemed a bit surprised by her tone, but also somewhat amused. “Hah… well, alright then, Ms. Lucy MacLean.” He said mockingly. “Tell me somethin’. Whaddaya think we gonna find when we finally catch up with that daddy a’ yours?”

The vault dweller felt her jaw clench a little and her brow furrowed more. “Why are you asking me?”

“Oh, I just thought… you been down there in that vault all this time. You ought to know somethin’.”

“Ugh… No! I don’t know shit!” She snapped, raising her head up a bit more. “…In fact… I’m the one who should be asking you the questions!” The girl narrowed her eyes towards him, zeroing in on the back of his wrinkly, bald head. “How do you know my father?”

“Hah… well… that is quite a story.” He said with a snicker. “But I think we best save that for another day.”

“I want answers.” She demanded. “Besides, we’ve got a long way to go, don’t we? Might as well talk...”

“I’m used to travelin’ alone, sweetie… Kinda prefer the peace and quiet, if I’m bein’ honest…”

“Tch…” She scoffed skeptically. “You like peace and quiet… or is that just a nice way of telling me to shut up?”

The Ghoul let out a chuckle. “Nah… If I wanted you to shut up, I’d just shoot ‘cha.”

She blinked, then picked up the pace, jogging up next to him. “Alright then… let’s talk.”

He glanced over at her, then shrugged. “Be my guest.”

“What’s your name?”

“My name?”

“Yeah, I don’t think you’ve ever mentioned it before… What do I call you?”

“I ain’t got no name, sweetie.”

“You have to have a name…”

“Not no more, I don’t.”

“Well, I have to call you something...”

“Heh…” He huffed a bit. His voice was casual, but clearly holding back some irritation. “Then you can just call me ‘Asshole’.”

“Come on. Tell me your name.”

“It don’t matter...” He said with a slight scowl. “...The man that name belonged to died a long time ago.”

Lucy stared at him a moment, then looked away, taking several steps before turning back to him. “...What... was he like?”

The Ghoul stopped in his tracks, then leaned to one side a bit and tilted his head before turning to her in exasperation. “I said you could talk. Not ask me a bunch of stupid ass questions.”

“I wanna know…” Lucy said, tilting her head a bit too as she stood her ground. “I wanna know who you were before you became… you know…” She paused as she looked him up and down with a slight sneer. “...this…”

The two-and-a-half century old bounty hunter stared at her a moment, chewing on the inside of his cheek. His eyes shifted towards the barren wasteland around them where Dogmeat had decided to wonder while she waited for them to continue, then looked back at the young vault dweller. “You wanna know what he was like…?” He finally said, then his eyes moved to the distance ahead of them as he continued to walk. “Well… he was a lot like you…” The Ghoul stated with a scowl. “Naive. Hopeful... Thought the world was a... good place fulla… good people who wanted to do the right thing...” The distain in his voice was palpable.

“You were… like me?” She said, her tone was both surprised and doubtful.

“I told you, Vaulty. I’m you…” He reminded her. “Only difference between us is…”

“Time.” She finished his sentence.

He looked at her a moment, then turned away and said, “That’s right…”

Lucy got quiet again, staring at the ground as they continued to walk.

A period of silence passed between them. The Ghoul found himself glancing over at her a couple times, before asking, “You worried… what this wasteland’s gonna do to ya…?” He said, his tone oddly compassionate. “What it’s gonna turn ya into…”

She quivered a bit, looked up at him, then back down.

“Well… I don’t blame ya. I’d probably feel the same way, lookin’ at me…” He glanced over and smirked at her a bit, but she didn’t respond. She didn’t even look at him. So he continued. “I hate to tell ya though… It's already started, sweetheart… But I think you already know that…” He grit his teeth together for a moment and sucked in some air between them. “Not much you can do about it, but…” He let out a somber exhale, hesitating a moment before glancing at her again and saying, “You know… it ain’t too late... to go back.”

The girl blinked, then looked up at him with wide eyes. “Go back? To where…?” Her tone was suddenly rather upset. “To the vault? That place? That…” She shook her head. “No! No, there… there’s no way I could go back…!” She swallowed hard, fighting back tears. “Not after… Not after knowing... what I know now…” She choked back a sob and shook her head. “Just go back…? Back to my old life and pretend… like none of this ever happened? …I can’t.”

“Hmm…” The Ghoul ground his teeth a little. “Yeah, I figured you’d say that…” He took another deep breath. “That's the problem with the truth. Once you got it, you can’t put it back… No matter how bad you might want to.”

She swallowed hard against the painful lump in her throat, then looked up at him. “...Why did you let me come with you?”

“Again, with the questions…” He said with an exasperated breath. “We both lookin’ for the same thing, ain’t we?”

“...And why should what I'm looking for matter to you?”

“It don’t. Not really, but… Shit, we goin’ in the same direction.”

Lucy was getting annoyed by how The Ghoul kept running the conversation in circles, but she wasn’t about to give up. “I don’t understand why you’re being nice to me now… Why don’t you just take me hostage again?”

The old bounty hunter snickered a little. “Well, cause I ain't got no reason to, sweetheart. I don’t just go around tormenting people for the fun of it. What kinda person you think I am, huh?”

“Huh.” She scoffed at him as if she couldn't believe the stupidity of that question. “Well… kind of… not a very good one, if we’re being completely honest.”

“Heh… Well, you’re not wrong about that... But the real question is… if that’s how ya feel, why’d you decide to come with me?”

She looked down, shook her head and shrugged. “As long as you’re not dragging me around with a rope, I think I’d rather take my chances with you than be out here on my own again…”

“Yeah… life’s full of hard decisions, ain’t it?” He turned towards her, lowering his head a little and looking at her from under the brim of his hat. “You know… I underestimated you... Ms. Lucy MacLean. I thought a cushy vault dweller like yourself would be nothin’ more than roach kibble.” He looked forward and narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “But… you got somethin’ in ya. Somethin’ that’s drivin’ ya… Maybe it’s that curiosity a’ yours. Maybe a misplaced sense of justice… or… maybe something else. Whatever it is… it gives you that edge. You got that survival instinct… Aw hell, maybe I’m a little curious too…”

“Curious… about what?”

“To see how far you’re willing to take it… before you do go crawling back into that hole.”

She frowned deeply and glared at him. Her voice was quiet and shaky, but firm. “I’m… never going back down there… I don’t care… what happens up here.” Her voice began to waver and crack as she spoke. “I’m never going back… I can’t go back…”

“Yeah…” He nodded approvingly. “Because you don’t take no bullshit. That’s what I like about 'che. I respect that.”

The vault dweller, or rather former vault dweller, huffed a little. “Great… I’ve earned the respect of a murdering monster…” She said sarcastically as she wiped her eyes. “That makes me feel just… so much better…”

“Call me what you want. But like I said… just give it a little time...” He smiled a little as he continued to stride forward. “...And well... to tell you the truth, I guess I feel like I owe you one, you bringing me those vials and all….” He chuckled a little at himself. “What was that you said? Golden rule, motherfucker?”

She smirked a little, feeling justified. “Yeah… but… I... was also the one who... broke them in the first place… so…”

“That’s right, you did.” The Ghoul said playfully. “But then, I suppose I shouldn’t have been using you as bait in a poisoned river.”

“Yeah… Yeah, th-that’s right! You shouldn’t have!” Lucy yelped, suddenly getting animated as she recalled the ordeal. “That was… not very respectable behavior at all, sir!”

“Yeah… rude, huh?”

“Very rude!”

“Down right ungentlemanly.”

“The most ungentlemanly!” She huffed and puffed with righteous indignation. “A-and you know what? You do owe me! Yeah! You owe me big time, mister! You cut off my finger and… and I saved your life! I didn’t have to do that!”

The Ghoul let out an amused laugh. “Oh… I still got your finger.” He said, pausing to wiggle it in front of her.

Lucy squinted in horror as she recognized the out-of-place digit, crudely stitched onto the stump of his missing index finger. Then her eyes got wide as she leaned back, sneering in disgust. “You are… a sick, sick man.”

“What? You want it back?”

“I… found a replacement already… thanks.” She said, holding up her own bluish-gray finger.

“Never let a good body part go to waste, I say.” He said with a grin. “Besides, you did bite one a’ mine off first. Only fair you replace it.”

“Y-you kidnapped me!” She threw the blame back at him.

The Ghoul let out another laugh and Dogmeat barked in excitement. “Ah, Vaulty… it’s gonna be fun havin’ you around, ain’t it?” He said before continuing to walk.

She scoffed as she began to follow, but her voice softened a bit. “Okay… so… so does that mean I don’t have to worry about you cutting off any more of my fingers…? Or… anything else like that?”

“Well… now that depends, don’t it?”

“On what?”

“Whether you plan on bitin’ off any more a’ mine, darlin'.” He said, looking over at her. “Eye for an eye. Finger for a finger. You bite my ass, I bite your ass. Golden rule, motherfucker.”

Lucy scrunched up her face in an attempt to hide that she was trying not to laugh. “I-I… I will do my best…” She said after containing herself a little and raising her head up in a dignified, but also mockingly serious way. “But you know… sometimes… a fellas gotta eat a fella… right?”

The Ghoul laughed heartily, amused at her attempt to match his humor. “Well, in that case… next time I think you better swallow.”

She felt herself crack a smile, then began to laugh as well.

To be continued...

Next Chapter >>

[blaisenova]

what's up gamers, sorry for disappearing for a while there. life's been kicking my ass lately LMAO

to all the people who've sent in requests, i'm working on them!! as for why they're taking so long, see above.

been writing some stuff on and off for a bit, and i'm sure my fellow writers know how it is. when inspiration for something hits, you just kinda shit it out and then move on. i try to put a little more effort into my requests LOL. but i love killer and i also love hurting him, so this is what came out of that. yippee!!

this one goes out to all the people with complicated romantic lives!!!!!!! i see you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

so, take this piece of shit to tide you over. thank you guys for your patience <3

content is below the cut due to length and sensitive subjects. as always, it can be found on ao3 in the reblogs if that's your cup of tea.

cw/tw: major character death (offscreen, but a main point), implied/referenced toxic relationship, implied/referenced suicidal ideation, an all around shitty situationship

Grains of dust fell between his fingers and into his joints, making them crackle when he gripped the faded red scarf in his hands. It was so like when his brother had died, and there was something poetic about that thought, and that poetry was the highest insult the multiverse could have asked him to endure. Nevertheless, there was a distinct lack of snow, and, though his surroundings were deeply familiar – the cool toned darkness of the castle’s atmosphere, broken only by the warm, orange glow of the castle’s mounted lanterns – they would never be as familiar as limbo.

Dust piled beneath his knees, scraping against the bone and leaving it raw, but all Killer could do was press his forehead into the pile before him and hold his breath to prevent it from dispelling; to be as close as possible without disturbing the remains.

When a voice rang out from the shadows, he didn’t startle; its presence had been imminent from the start. It held the same chilled, deep tones of the castle, broken only by the warm dredges of poorly concealed laughter behind its words. Despite himself, Killer found that the tension in his bones melted away at the sound.

“So, you finally killed him.”

It wasn’t a question. There was no surprise.

Voice hoarse, Killer laughed, and the dust darted away from his breath and stuck to the liquid determination that marred his cheeks. “He was hurting me.”

Beside him, someone knelt. Fingers, dark with viscous negativity, ran through the particles and pressed it together testingly. The other hummed, then shook the dust from his hands, as if it were something dirty. Killer shouldn’t have felt so offended at the thought.

“Well, obviously,” Nightmare responded, voice flat with disinterest. “It’s about time that you did something about it.”

Clutching the scarf to his chest, Killer’s soul wobbled unsteadily, and he wheezed. “Do you think– Will– He’ll… He’ll be better when he comes back, right?”

At that, came Nightmare’s laughter – warm, comforting, and Killer hated himself at the feeling – and a hand came to rest against his back. Fingers danced what might have been soothing circles over the fabric of his jacket, coaxing out small noises of misery that Killer hadn’t realised he was holding back. “He’s not like you, Killer,” Nightmare hummed. “He won’t come back.”

At that, came Killer’s laughter – warm, comforting, and Killer hated himself at the feeling – and he curled further into the dust as it continued to try and run away. “Oh,” he breathed. Then, again, “oh. That’s– That’s not what I wanted.”

There was a beat of silence, and Killer breathed in the judgement in the lack of words. “Then,” Nightmare finally drawled, steady in a way Killer could not be, “what did you want?”

A sound was pulled from his chest at the question, somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “I just wanted it to stop hurting,” he hissed. “I… I didn’t want to lose him forever.”

With another hum, Nightmare’s fingers pressed more firmly into Killer’s back, drawing him out of wheezing breaths he hadn’t realised he’d been taking. “Why not, if he was hurting you?”

“Because I loved him,” Killer spat; immediately; bitterly. Then, through a lump in his throat, “love. Because I love him.”

For a moment, Nightmare’s steady ministrations faltered, as if the admission surprised him, though Killer was certain he must have known; must have felt it even through every other emotion that had led them here. Just as soon as he began to miss the touch, though, they started up again, and, once more, he choked on a sob as his soul spasmed against his chest. Each breath was suffocating and filled with dust, coating his bones from the inside out and sticking to him in a way that made him feel sick.

“I didn’t want this,” Killer repeated, like a plea. “What did I do wrong?”

It ran deeper than a slash across the chest and bones crumbling between his fingers, blood painting his sweater bright red. It must have. It must have been more than the final blow.

“I– I fucked up somehow,” he wheezed. “If I just knew how, I… I could have done better. Should have done better. Then, maybe…”

“There’s no point in trying to fix it now,” Nightmare chided, with a subtle gentleness that Killer might not have recognised if not for the tenderness of the hand that pressed between his shoulder blades reassuringly. “You’re agonising over your relationship with a corpse. It cannot hear your apologies.” A beat. “Although, perhaps, it wouldn’t matter even if it could.”

Sockets squeezing shut, Killer bit back a wail. His knuckles ached from the force with which he clung to the scarf, and the soreness extended to his chest, right where his soul sat. “I hurt him,” he said. “He’s gone.” 

All at once, he sat up, and Nightmare’s hand darted away in surprise, cyan socket wide. Dust speckled the dark streaks across Killer’s cheeks and clung to the bone where he’d feverishly pressed his skull against the pile, as if it might feel his touch and spring back to life. Dull, pale eyelights trembled in his sockets, and the expression of pity before him was blurry and unclear, though, something about that was a mercy. 

At the thought, Killer scrubbed at his sockets furiously, trying to deny himself the grace he didn’t deserve. The moment his vision cleared, however, it was blurred again by tears. Idly, he found himself thankful for the threadbare cloth in his hands, without which his fingers would have found their way to his soul and tried to pry the feelings out themselves; another mercy he refused to indulge.

“He’s gone,” Killer repeated. “I was in love with him. And, now, he’s gone, and it’s my fault. I hurt him.”

Through fuzzy vision, Killer watched Nightmare bare his teeth; it could have been a snarl, or maybe a grimace. “You’ll live.”

“I don’t want to live,” he wailed, unable to stop himself. He blinked, and tar-like tears smeared down his cheeks. They dropped down to his chin, then fell into his lap, and a choked sound of anguish left him as he realised the scarf was stained with them. The damage was done, though, and he sobbed louder as he pressed the cloth to his face. His words were muffled through the barrier, “I loved him. I loved him. Why did I hurt him? Why did he hurt me?”

“The multiverse is cruel,” Nightmare said, “and we are but inhabitants of it, carefully crafted to perpetuate its cruelty. You asked too much when you sought out happiness.”

“Then,” he breathed, pulling himself together long enough to speak, “what was I supposed to do?”

“You shouldn’t have fallen in love,” came the answer, simply. “Certainly, not you. Certainly, not with someone like him.”

His breath faltered once more, and something giddy made his soul tremble. A soft rattling emanated throughout his bones, nausea making some deep, magic based part of him broil and burn. He made a sound, somewhere between a laugh and a sob, and held the scarf over his eyes as if going blind to the situation would make it disappear. “Maybe I deserve everything he ever did.”

With a huff that might have been laughter, Nightmare hummed, “Maybe you do.” He gestured to the messy pile of dust – the thin fabric of the scarf easily showing the shifting shadows – and Killer shuddered at the reminder. “And, maybe he did, too.”

At the notion, Killer’s shoulders sagged, and, tiredly, he shook his head. “Not him,” he whispered, reverent. “Never him.”

Again, came that laugh, and there was something frustrated in its bitter tones. “Oh, what a pedestal you’ve placed him on,” he drawled.

“Why don’t you care?” Killer spat, and anger sparked alongside despair like a match to gasoline. All of the exhaustion from before was driven away, and fevered fury took its place. His soul spasmed painfully as he finally yanked the scarf back down to face reality head on, staring Nightmare in the eye with a strange sort of determination to condemn himself. “He was yours, just as I am. Why don’t you care that he’s gone? Why don’t you care what I did to him?”

Refusing the vitriol that he’d been met with, Nightmare’s tone remained carefully even. “And, forget what he did to you?” His head tilted to the side curiously, and he regarded Killer’s crime with indifference. “You’re hardly being fair. It’s not as if you haven’t killed others for much less. It’s not as if he’s not just as replaceable as you.”

Tiredness returned, like a weight in his bones or a fist around his soul, making him wilt. Unconsciously, he leaned towards his king, and Nightmare mercifully closed the distance between them, allowing Killer’s skull to rest against his shoulder. Shame burned alongside misery as he found miniscule comfort in the familiar worthlessness. “No. He was different. He tried,” he mumbled. Then, insistently, “He tried, and he loved me. Who else has ever done that? For me? I don’t deserve it.”

“And, yet, it wasn’t enough,” Nightmare replied, and Killer couldn’t help but cringe at the callousness.

“Well, it should have been,” he persisted. “It should have been enough for me.”

“And, yet,” he repeated, “it wasn’t.”

Scoffing, Killer shifted, pulling his knees up to his chest. He hoped that he looked as small as he felt. “Gee, thanks, Nightmare,” he murmured. “Like I wasn’t already feeling like a piece of shit.” Then, with another scoff and marked bitterness, “I mean– Shit, it’s not even like I was asking for very much, right? Or– Or, I was, I guess, but it shouldn’t be so hard… right? How many people are there in the multiverse that have perfectly healthy relationships? Where they feel like people? Why not me?”

He ran a hand over his skull with an exasperated laugh, pressing his forehead against his knees. “I mean, I know why not. I’m not a person, but is it so much to ask that someone pretends? That… That I don’t fuck everything up without even trying? That I don’t deserve to be hurt?” he hissed, sharply. “That I don’t earn mistreatment simply by being?”

Thick, black rivulets of determination fell from his sockets, and Killer raised his head once more, meeting the chilling cyan of Nightmare’s gaze and feeling an awful lot like he was asking for answers he didn’t really want. “He was trying, Night. I know he was. I saw it,” he insisted, though his words grew soft as his shoulders slumped forward again. “What does it say about me that even when someone is trying not to hurt me, I make them do it anyway? Without even meaning to?” 

He cringed, the tips of his fingers pressing into his bone with a satisfying sting. “And, then, I hurt them back. God, like I don’t deserve it when they do it, right? Like– Like they did?” His gaze went back to the pile of dust. “Like he did? I didn’t want to hurt him. I didn’t, but I did it anyway, knowing it would hurt, because I’m so selfish that I wanted it to stop hurting me. Like it would ever stop hurting, even if he was gone.”

Finally, Killer fell silent, with a shrug that he could only hope would communicate everything he could no longer force past the lump in his throat and the way his soul wobbled painfully in front of his chest, fighting to make him feel all of the emotions he’d crushed down and bottled up for so long. His sockets burned unpleasantly, but he didn’t dare blink, afraid that the motion would start up a sickening sort of sobbing that he wouldn’t be able to stop until he passed out or died. An unfitting way to go for someone like him; it would hurt, but not enough; never enough, when wallowing in his own self-pity.

When he looked up, he was met with the scrutinising glare of Nightmare’s eyelight, and he felt himself unconsciously straighten, as if that would make him appear any less pathetic.

“Do you know what I think?” Nightmare began, haltingly. “I think… you’re reading too much into the actions of someone who was just as broken as you. Regardless of his intentions, he hurt you, and, now, you’ve hurt him. And, the worst part?” he hummed, almost pleasantly. “It was entirely inevitable. You shouldn’t have fallen in love, Killer.”

Not trusting himself enough to speak, all he could do was nod.

“Pick up the dust of your ruined relationship,” Nightmare continued, and he gently knocked Killer’s skull away from his shoulder as he urged him towards the scattered pile. “Store it away somewhere that you won’t forget; close to your heart, but not in it. Then, move on. There’s nothing more you can do now but that.”

Shaking eyelights, darting from the dust to the tattered scarf gripped between his fingers, stared down at the macabre display of an end that was, in many ways, poetry; poetry of insult. He swallowed his agony. “Will that make it stop hurting?”

Without looking up, Killer could feel the way that Nightmare regarded him, somewhere between disdain and pity. “No,” he said. “But, it’s a start.”

Another dust filled urn on the mantel, each gathering a thin layer of grime that dulls the shine of their golden casket with time. This one would remain golden for a while, like the last, marred by nothing but fingerprints from when he would take it from its place and hold it in his arms. But, eventually, it, too, would lose its beckoning lustre, and its tarnish would mean healing.

Another dust filled urn on the mantel, and here’s to many more.

[oneatlatime]

City of Walls and Secrets

I am also once again saving the commentary for a rewatch.

I still think rock trains are neat but their inefficiencies hurt my brain. The friction! They should at least install dynamic braking.

That's big. This show has really confined itself to the hinterlands so far, so this is really novel. I had no clue anything this big existed in the Avatar universe.

Complete nitpick time! Given that earthbending is a thing that exists, why bother making things out of stone with individual tiles like this?

Single most threatening musical sting of the whole show so far goes to an overly smiley tour guide.

Wow! I hate this lady already!

"Oh, Ba Sing Se has many walls! There are the ones outside, protecting us, and the ones inside, protecting us from smelly poors!"

"In case someone brings home a lady friend!" Do you know your nephew AT ALL?

Both Iroh and Zuko are right. Life does happen everywhere and without your permission. But, the city is also remarkably prison-like.

He got them jobs in an afternoon. AN AFTERNOON. Stop it Iroh, you're making me feel inadequate.

Once a fuckboy, always a fuckboy. This particular leopard can't change his spots, no matter how he tries to dress up his actions in a new law-abiding veneer. I feel sorry for Smellerbee. Her faith in her leader isn't exactly being rewarded.

So... is there a law on the books that makes being a firebender illegal in Ba Sing Se? Because the head-in-the-sand vibe I'm getting from Judy makes me think that the average citizen doesn't even know there's a reason to dislike the Fire Nation. Iroh and Zuko could probably bend as openly as a waterbender or an earthbender could here.

This whole being handled thing must be dredging up some pretty nasty feelings for Toph. This is specifically what she left behind.

Speaking of precisely targeted torture, Judy is engineered to be as irritating to Sokka as possible. Man of action versus Lady of script.

What a productive use of time! What an exemplary case of turning over a new leaf!

Iroh buddy I have news for you regarding the ingredients of tea.

That's like the nicest thing a member of the Fire Nation royal family has said all year.

How to get Iroh's ass in gear: Step 1: Make insulting tea. Step 2: There is no step 2.

I thought that little thingy in the background was one of those electricity things.

The attention to detail in this show is stupid. There's a moving reflection of the carriage in the water as it goes past.

Hi forbidden city!

Ba Sing Se has a morality police?

I've already run out of patience with the city and I'm 7 minutes in. I haven't even made it to a commercial break yet!

Their house is cute but the veranda is so substantial that it's probably really dark inside. Also there's a pumpkin hood ornament on the roof.

I don't think you can stop there for a month. Have you guys forgotten the now-doubled ticking clock? Eclipse and comet?

Oh ok we're doing 1984 now. Damn. This show goes places.

I stand corrected. Everyone knows about the war and would be appropriately non-welcoming to firebending. But not openly. This could be like one of those Bugs Bunny bits where he traps someone in societal rules. If someone told a firebender not to bend, all they would have to do to get the guy off their case would be to ask why they aren't supposed to be firebending. What's the guy going to say, because there's a war on?

Shout out to Pong for doing the Gaang a solid and providing the only useful info since they've arrived.

There is something very Gollum-like about Jet, crouched in laundry on a roof in the dark, talking to his stolen spark rocks.

Sokka. Feet off the artwork.

Time for Toph to weaponise her oppressive upbringing and out-fancy the fancies in the name of ending the war.

Aang can master an element in a couple of months but a qualified expert declared manners to be beyond him.

I just realised that Sokka and Katara don't have a last name.

Sneaking into a Bear's (JUST Bear's) birthday party may be the single least violent infiltration attempt in the show so far.

Smellerbee is very articulate, and it's rare that this show spells out its themes so obviously. No metaphors, just "you're obsessed. It's not healthy." And Jet still doesn't get it. Maybe Smellerbee should have tried metaphors.

Normally glowy green stuff is bad news, but all of Ba Sing Se's green lighting is surprisingly cozy.

Sometimes, rarely but sometimes, Zuko has to put up with a lot of nonsense.

A raise? Did I miss a timeskip?

Busting in to a local business, yelling about the enemy, pulling out a lethal weapon: How to Look Sane, A Guide by Jet.

Customers, amirite?

I guess the Bei Fongs are too minor as nobles?

"You don't know what I had to do to get seats this near the bear!" but I want to.

I know this guy's voice from something.

Momo ghost plan. I want it.

Pretty funny that the busboys plan works better than the fancy ladies plan. Goes to show you should always play to your strengths.

Get de-wheated punk.

I'm not sure I've rooted for Zuko this wholeheartedly since The Storm.

Jet be like.

Judy is not good at her job. Like really not good. Her insistence on getting out of there before they cause a scene caused the scene. Nice going!

The music slowing down when Judy's face falls is really effective.

You ever get the feeling that it should be Aang who ran away to the circus rather than Ty Lee?

Actually a travelling circus would be a great way to be, and remain, an incognito airbender. Aang should have done that rather than frozen himself. Ok I'm not sure how much say he had in that, but you know what I mean.

For the first time in his life, Zuko has people take his side. It's too bad that it's based on a lie, but it must feel nice.

I would have preferred if Zuko had a clean win against Jet - they're both great with swords, but I thought Zuko was better - but an assist from the funky hat police works too.

I'm getting some funky vibes from the funky hat police.

Bye! I won't miss you!

The face on the guy on the left is the funniest part of this episode.

Now these are some funky hats.

I know this scene is supposed to be scary and tense and action-packed, but I can't get over the fact that the king just did a drive by. They carried him in one side and out the other. This concludes the King's presence at his Bear's birthday party. He's a very busy man, you see.

Long Fang's title keeps getting fancier.

Brain washing crops up quite a lot in kids' cartoons. This is not the first time I've seen this plot beat.

Forget the Fire Lord. Forget the Fire Nation. Long Fang just threatened Appa. Long Fang has to die now.

The Judys are replaceable. Given everything else this city seems ok with, they're probably disposable too. Yikes!

Final Thoughts

This episode was probably the most expository I've seen this season. Maybe even the whole show. It was a big infodump with barely any humour. Actually that's wrong; there was humour, but not to my taste.

Jet is infuriating as usual. I think the writers are going for the villainous decay trope, because smooth-talking season one Jet hasn't reappeared once.

I feel really sorry for Smellerbee and the archer guy. I wonder if they even wanted to go to Ba Sing Se in the first place.

Once again, for the third episode in a row, Zuko is one of, if not the, most reasonable character. Season one shouty Zuko is gone. Is this what I think it is? Has Zuko really turned a corner? If so, I'm liking (rather, disliking less) this new Zuko. This is good. I'm also surprised, because in my experience, if you want to domesticate someone, you don't put them in a customer-facing role. That will have the opposite effect and make them turn feral.

Iroh is having too much fun. It's good for him to have something of his own going on. I think he's been in Zuko wrangling mode 24/7 for the last two? three? years, so he definitely deserves to pursue his own interests for a bit. But I can't see Zuko being a tea boy for long before he's back to needing wrangling.

What's the long term plan though? Are Zuko and Iroh going to live the rest of their lives in Ba Sing Se? Are they waiting for something? Are Iroh and Zuko functionally dead, with Lee and Mushi taking their place?

I will give the show credit for finally coming up with and antagonistic force that Aang & company can't just bend or talk into submission. Bureaucratic tomfoolery covering for authoritarian censorship and information suppression and re-education was not something I'd ever have expected in this show, because it's a little too much like the real world, if you know what I mean.

I don't like seeing our heroes unable to triumph, so this episode was kind of uncomfortable to watch. It felt off the whole way through, which I credit to that creepy music box tune that played throughout. The soundtrack of this episode was a cut above what I usually hear in this show. I noticed it more than I usually do, and I mean that in a good way.

As someone who'd be lucky to pass as a busboy, upper class intrigue and social games stuff doesn't do it for me, so this wasn't an episode I was going to enjoy anyway. I preferred the B plot with Zuko and Iroh, for the sheer absurdity of the concept. Imagine you're in 1950s London, having barely survived the Blitz, and you come across Himmler working in a pub. It's so odd that it almost wraps back around to normal again.

I didn't find this episode very enjoyable. I don't like the forced inactivity that's been imposed on the Gaang. The humour was not to my taste. The worldbuilding was substantial, but - probably thanks to Joo Dee, whose name I've definitely been misspelling - it felt inorganic, like a lecture. Which the writers do lampshade by making Joo Dee sound like one of those audio guide things you rent from tourist attractions. But lampshading a fault does not make a fault go away.

Thanks to what happens to Jet, I know that the people of Ba Sing Se don't dare even think about the war, for their own safety. But after spending more than half a season being shown every type of refugee and victim of war in other parts of the Earth Kingdom, I could not bring myself to give a flying fuck over Pong's concern for keeping his house. The city is frustrating, the officials are frustrating, their priorities are beyond frustrating. Zuko was right when he said he didn't want to make a life there, although I did find the lower ring where Zuko and Iroh are to be far more comfortable than the high ring where the gaang is.

This episode makes me want to bite something.

And still no Appa.