#prompt: Yearning

[steampunkserpent27]

How about dinner?

for @hdcandyheartsfest 's prompt: Yearning Rated: G The final part to the Bake Shop AU CW: Pining Harry, Bakeshop setting

He found himself staring at Draco, as he often did now. He couldn’t help but stare, he was just so mesmerizing. Even if he was meant to be doing his job, he often found all reasonable activity halted once Draco entered his shop. All he could do was stand and watch, completely entranced, as Draco ordered the same scone he bought every morning. His wand was already moving to package it up, before Draco had a chance to utter a single word. And his heart raced, as he saw Draco’s lips perk up in the corner, as if he was happy to see him, as if he was happy that he knew what he was going to order. The scone was wrapped up all too quickly, and he found himself attempting to stall by pausing to turn around and check the muffins that were still rising in the ovens. The ones he knew wouldn’t be finished for another thirty minutes, but if he gave Draco his scone he’d be gone, and he’d only just got here. He wasn’t ready for him to leave yet. He could feel Draco’s eyes boring into the back of his head, as he remained fixed in place, watching his undercooked muffins with unbridled intensity. “Sorry, just… Need to check something.” But he couldn’t stall forever, so he turned back around, finding a rather amused Draco waiting for him. His arms were crossed over his chest, his grey eyes bright, as he attempted to hold back a smile. Harry thought he rather loved Draco’s eyes, they were gorgeous, deep pools of mercury that glinted and reflected the artificial lights back at him. He often found himself getting lost in them, so he looked away before that could happen and cleared his throat, as he knew his voice would come out all squeaky if he didn’t. “Here you are.” Draco took the package, taking a long moment to open it and peek inside, inspecting the scone. His cheeks were tinged with pink, although he supposed it could’ve been from the cold. That’s probably all it was, even if seeing it made his stomach feel all strange and fluttery, as his hopeless yearning intensified. Draco turned the pastry around, his lips twitching into a grin. “Is it to your satisfaction?” He asked after a moment, as he realized Draco was waiting for something. Draco let out a measured hum. “It’ll do.” He shook his head in disbelief. “You always love my scones.” Draco’s smile grew. “I do.” “Then what’s wrong with it?” “Oh. Nothing.” The scone was tucked back into the bag. He expected Draco to leave, but he was just standing there and staring at him, and he didn’t know how to think or feel about that. After a very long and awkward couple of seconds, he asked him, “Can I get you something else?” Draco’s smile continued to grow, while his cheeks darkened. “How about dinner?” For a long moment, he couldn’t understand what Draco had said, as he desperately tried to understand which pastry Draco wanted, until the realization slammed into him and nearly knocked him off of his feet. Euphoria bubbled up inside of him, and he felt like laughing, because he had to be the luckiest man alive. Draco wanted to be with him, even after he’d messed everything up, he still wanted to try and make this work. “Yeah. Yeah.” He said, eloquently. “Dinner’s… Dinner’s good. Really good, actually. Yeah.” Draco laughed, and it was a wonderful, uplifting sound, one that he wanted to hear again as soon as possible. “Okay. I’ll meet you here after close?” He nodded, feeling as if he might fall over at any moment. “Great. See you then.” Draco turned and loped towards the door, looking downright gleeful. “You can’t just say that and then leave me here to work all day!” He called after him. Draco glanced back at him, almost glowing in the pale, wintery light, as he paused by the door. “You’ll survive.” And with that, Draco was gone.

[morekerosene]

The Hero Enraged

My fanfic for the first day of Zelink week 2023, organized by @zelinkcommunity

Prompt: Yearning

Rating: M for somewhat graphic violence

Wordcount: 902

WARNING: Major Spoilers for TotK Main quests and for the Dueling Peaks stable Penn quest

Note: I actually wrote this ages ago but I procrastinated finishing it for a while and it fit the Zelink week prompt very well. I’m still pretty new to fanfic, comments of any kind are very much appreciated

“Link… Open your eyes…” The princess’s voice was the first thing Link heard as he awoke, not fully sure of his surroundings. He saw nothing but a bright golden light. “Wake up, Link.”

  Link took the time to take in his surroundings. The last time Zelda had woken him up like that was almost six years ago, when Link had woken up in the shrine of resurrection with no memory other than how to fight and his own name. Soon after, King Rhoam’s spirit set Link on a quest to save a girl whose name he didn’t know, but still stirred his heart when he heard it. Now, he was lying in the bed they shared. 

Usually Link rose before his love and made breakfast for the two of them. Today, however, Zelda was leaning over his back, trying to shake him awake. He groaned and grabbed the pillow.

  “We’re going to explore the tunnels under the castle today, remember?” Zelda said as she shook him. A survey team had recently discovered that there was a labyrinth of tunnels beneath Hyrule Castle while clearing some of the rubble, and Zelda was itching to explore it. That explained why she was up so early.

  “Don’t make me have to pull you out of bed, sleepyhead!” She poked him in the cheek as she made that last remark. Link responded by grabbing the pillow, quickly turning around and hitting her with it before she realized he was up. “Sneak strike!”  

Zelda fell forward onto the bed, and Link reached out his arms to grab her. She was laughing as he grabbed her sides. “Link, Stop it, get some clothes on!” Link smirked at the princess laying on top of him. “Ok fine, we’ll finish this tonight.” He got up and planted a short kiss on her nose.

---

It had been 8 months since Zelda woke Link up early, vibrating with excitement over what they might find below the castle. That was the last time Link had seen Zelda with his own eyes. The love of his life had been unfairly ripped from his arms once again. And now he didn’t know if he would ever see her again.

Link witnessed Zelda’s experiences in the distant past, and 1 month ago he discovered the truth about where his beloved was. He could hardly bare thinking about it without spiraling into dread, but he had to keep going. Zelda sacrificed everything that she was just to give Link a fighting chance. And so he made his way onto the back of the light dragon and claimed the Master Sword. 

He wasn’t sure what to think now. He encountered Penn on top of the Dueling Peaks stable, who heard reports that the Yiga clan kidnapped Princess Zelda and were holding her somewhere in the Dueling Peaks. Somehow Link managed to keep himself together when he heard that.

He had to investigate the rumor. Link hadn’t spotted the Light Dragon since arriving in the Dueling Peaks, so maybe it was true. Maybe Zelda had been miraculously restored, and got kidnapped by the Yiga before she managed to find anyone else. The small hope of seeing her again led him to reminisce about that last morning. It seemed there was a chance that mornings like that would come again soon.

Link spotted the cage on the south side of the mountains. He flew across on his paraglider and kept quiet as he approached the cage, and there she was. She was standing in the cage, looking exactly as Zelda had when he lost her. “Link, help me!” She caught Link’s gaze, and called out for his help. Link activated Ultrahand and lifted the cage away from her.

“Only the Valiant, Golden Haired knight known as Link could move such a sturdy cage like that.” 

Link knew right away that something was off. His Zelda would never address him like that. 

She began to approach Link, chuckling. “I knew we’d lure in some heroic wannabes if we used Zelda as bait, but we’ve even managed to snare you!” Link reached back to the Master Sword in its sheath.

“Hey, don’t worry! Once we find the real Zelda, we’ll send her to join you! Promise!”

Link drew his blade.

“Alright everyone, this is definitely the golden-haired golden boy. Get him!” The false Princess revealed themself to be another Yiga assassin, one of the many who Link had beaten. Two more Yiga footsoldiers appeared in puffs of smoke.

Link had fused his sword with a wicked sharp silver Lizalfos horn. With it, he quickly took out the two Yiga who teleported in, who fled just as quickly as they arrived. All that was left was the one who was disguised as his Princess. He rushed at Link, who parried the assassin’s blade with his shield and deftly returned a strike to the clansman’s back. 

The attempted ambusher was about to teleport away, but the hero wasn’t finished. He had never been this furious before. The assassin had dangled the hope of seeing Zelda again right in front of his face, but it was nothing more than an illusion. In that moment Link sought nothing other than vengeance. Link leapt at the fleeing clansman and drove the Master Sword into his opponent's chest. The body collapsed to the ground with a thud against the rock. Hylian blood stained the blade of evil’s bane. 

Blood along his sword was a surprisingly infrequent occurrence for Link. The monsters he normally fought didn’t bleed, and he usually let the Yiga escape since they were more of a nuisance than an actual threat. Even their leader rarely posed a problem to him. But this time, his anger boiled over.

[elainiisms]

non sexual intimacy!!!! bathing together, washing each other, playing with each other's hair, kissing every inch of their body, writing love letters on their back with your finger, connecting their moles and freckles to create constellations on their skin, running your hands up and down their thighs, ugh just expressing physical love without it having to be about sex!!!!

[keyotosprompts]

counting the steps to the door of your heart ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆

how to be a true YEARNER (jk yearn how u want)

⇴ person a watching person b trail further and further off, and person a is frozen in place. person b—though walking away—seems closer than ever through person a's gaze

⇴ being completely hyper-focused on a book, yet every page, every beautiful metaphor reminds person a of person b

⇴ you two are both lying next to each other and you feel asleep. the person next to you has to try their hardest to resist the urge to reach out and touch you. just one stroke of the cheek is all the desire—the chance to have their hands brush across your soft skin.

⇴ "i just can't do it man" "do what?" "i can't just sit in front of them and act like everything's normal. i want more, but i know that it would be wrong to have it. but i need them. i feel crazy—am i crazy?"

⇴ person a keeps thinking about person b, even though they've only met once. once their eyes meet person b's, everything slows. nothing else matters except for the smile on their face. something clicked.

⇴ "have i ever told you that you were the one thing that just made sense?" "no, but go on." and the other person malfunctions because... well where do they start. how do they go about this w/o rambling, or letting their true feelings out?

⇴ the constant need to reach out. the constant need to grab their hand, rub their arm, and put your head on their shoulder.

⇴ wanting to know everything about them—little or big: their daily schedule, what shampoo they use, whether they are feeling the same as you. any crumb of information would be satisfactory

⇴ anxiously bouncing your knee in hopes that you can see them and have a conversation. finding any excuse to come up and talk. you just want to see them and have your eyes fall on their silhouette.

⇴ they laugh at something you said, and the melodious sound of their chuckle carries around the room, gracing your ears. now, you start planning another joke, hoping to hear that warm sound again.

⇴ "i don't think i can hide it anymore. how it's like my heart is on the verge of a heart attack when you text me. how i've delved into all your favorite movies, books, and tv shows ever since you've told me about them. how i wanted to be close to you—not just physically."

⇴ "i kept doing all these things just to see if you would do them with me. i really wanted you to be there with me."

⇴ the way that everything is fine and under control until they take one look at your lips.

⇴ "you're doing that thing by the way. when you lie to make someone feel better? you bite the inside of your bottom lip and nod, then you make this really pitying look with your eyes. like a squinty thing." "...wow"

[vellichorsdesire]

kissing your f/o and they break out of the kiss for a second, drawing back to simply look at you adoringly with an uncontrollable smile on their face and then going back in for another kiss… hi

(or, vice versa, them noticing how you look at them a certain way and their mind just going absolutely crazy about it. maybe they’re desperate enough for them to pull you close and start the kiss instead, or they just feel so absolutely weak in your arms…)

[comfort-character-central]

"You've always been enough," Your f/o begins, taking your hands in theirs. "And I'll do whatever it takes to show you how loved you are, whether that's 2 days or my entire life." They smile lovingly, their fingers smoothly caressing the knuckles by your fingers.

[roses-and-revolutions]

Tell me, Superman, what is it that makes one man a hero and the other a villain? Is it his actions, his goals, or his ambitions? Nah! It's whoever stands on the winning side of history that gets to determine that...

Let's fight Big Blue.

OR!!!!

The DC universe is Amity Park's personal rage room and Casper High's senior year is going through it.

[loveisanimaginarydagger3000]

Good Luck, Babe! (7)- I Told You So

Wanda Maximoff X Reader 18+

Inspired by the song 'Good Luck, Babe!' by Chappell Roan

Summary: Returning to Westview after twelve years away causes you to look back on your secret love affair with Wanda, to remember the intimate moments you shared together before her refusal to accept her true self drove the two of you apart, leaving you to pick up the pieces of your broken heart alone.

What happens when you reunite with the woman you've been trying so hard to forget, forced to watch her suffer in an unhappy marriage that was slowly drowning her, still too scared to confront her true feelings?

Chapter 7- 5.5k Words

Good Luck, Babe! Masterlist

Chapter 1 | Chapter 6

As you were cleaning up the last of the dishes you had used for dinner, your mind roaming for something interesting to think about after your boring evening alone, the twins who you usually entertained on a Friday evening away at their uncle's house, you snapped back into reality at the sound of voices being raised next door, your brows furrowing as you wiped your hands clean, concerned at the noises coming from Wanda’s house.

The sound of the married couple arguing when the twins were away wasn’t a surprise to you, but the sheer amount of shouting was. Normally, you would hear a few raised words, mostly coming from Vision and the occasional slam of a door but tonight it seemed different, they both seemed to be screaming at one another.

You wanted to go over and make sure things were alright as the argument seemed to grow louder, the voices muffled meaning you couldn’t make out what was being said, but you reluctantly decided against it as it wasn’t your place to intervene, to make sure Wanda was alright. By the sounds of it, she was handling herself alright against him, a loud, hostile shout coming from a female voice before you decided to give them their space, not wanting the temptation to go on over there.

Grabbing Lucky’s lead, you quickly found everything you would need for a long walk with the bundle of fluff before heading out, your gaze trained on the house as you passed it slowly, listening to the continuous shouting, having to fight against every instinct that told you to knock on the front door and interrupt them. You hovered as the shouting suddenly stopped, a sense of panic trickling down your spine unpleasantly before it seemed to erupt again, your feet reluctantly taking step after step until you walked away from the house, trying to get rid of the worry building in the pit of your stomach as you roamed around Westview, taking a trip down memory lane once again to try and clear your mind.

***

Turning the corner to enter the avenue you lived on, your gaze immediately caught sight of auburn hair, Wanda’s despondent form slumped on her doorstep as she sat on the edge of it, her fingers deftly wrapped around a cigarette as she took a long, tired drag, seeming to try and lose herself in something other than the emotions forcibly drowning her. The sight of her stirred something inside you as you grew closer, your features softening but also filling with concern as you felt a prominent pain in your chest at how small and broken she looked, a lump forming in your throat when you caught her empty stare. The mesmerising green that hypnotised you were nowhere to be seen as her gaze lacked life, her inner demons clawing away at her and prying away any hope or happiness she had, your mind tormented at having witnessed her in such a heartbroken state.

“If you’re here to say ‘I told you so’, I don’t want to hear it,” she mumbles defeatedly as she lifts her gaze marginally to see your approaching steps, an onslaught of confusing emotions coursing through her as she somehow manages to feel her heart flutter and clench at the same time at your presence, a familiar ache growing unpleasantly in her chest as she wipes away the tears threatening to fall, not wanting you to see her like this. She didn’t want you to see her so lost and confused, to see how you were right. You had always been right. She couldn’t run away from it forever, no matter how hard she tried to stop the shame eating her alive. It slowly tore her apart everyday, even more noticeably when you had returned to Westview, only adding to the pain and longing she felt since you left that day twelve years ago. Why did you have to come back? Why did you have to rip open her heart again and let over a decade’s worth of anguish and agony seep into her blood, consuming her entirely and overwhelmingly. Why did you have to come back and remind her of how much she loved you- No, she didn’t. She never loved you, she didn’t. She couldn’t. She wasn’t like that, she was normal, she was…

Your mouth opened to reply to her but a deep, frustrated sigh escaped her, her head tilting back, looking up at the night sky as she blinked back the tears that were about to fall, her teeth biting down on her lower lip to stop it trembling as she felt bile rising up in her throat for denying everything once again. Why couldn’t she just say it?

She lowered her head from the canvas of the dark sky to look at you, the raw pain in her eyes taking you back at how overwhelmed by sorrow she was, the look soon fading to disgust and shame as she tried to hold the intimate gaze, unable to stop doubts and insecurities picking at her thoughts whilst your features softened as you attempted to comfort her, unsure of what to do as she gradually composed and collected herself.

Wanda hands pressed against her eyes as she focussed on breathing calmly, her throat tightening as the air managed to push past the lump that had formed there, shaky breaths escaping her as her mind continued to race, your approaching steps seeming to speed some of the thoughts up whilst slowing others, her heart splitting into two, unable to chose how to feel. She was just so tired, so tired of wanting to love someone she shouldn’t, so tired of feeling like she was trapped, the walls of expectations and reality closing in on her everyday and suffocating her, her only escape being something that seemed to inevitably push the walls in faster.

You waited patiently for her to calm down as you stood before her, carefully moving to sit on the doorstep with her, Lucky sitting on the floor by you feet as you managed to comfort part of her without doing anything, the warmth of your body being next to hers allowing something soothing to wrap around her heart that was crying out for help, her hands eventually leaving her eyes to wipe away the stray tears lingering on her cheeks.

“That’s not what I was going to say,” you softly whisper, keeping your voice calm and delicate for her, not wanting her to know the whirlwind of pain coursing through you at knowing she was struggling, your mind filling with memories of that sob you caused to rip its way out of her that day, the tears you caused in her eyes. You hated seeing her hurt, it was the one thing you couldn’t cope with, a familiar sense of dread crawling up your spine, ready to corrupt your mind. “I was going to tell you about someone I once knew,” you start off, a hint of nostalgia lacing your tone as she listens to you, her tangling thoughts soon fading as she focuses on you, on how she wants to lean into your body and feel your comforting touch again, the way your bodies always slotted against each other perfectly, your souls seeming to connect. She longed to feel that spark of electricity flow through her body at a simple touch from you, even just a brush of your shoulders as you sat so close, but she refrained from moving any closer, deciding to stay still and silent as she listened, a small sniffle filling the brief silence that amplified your concern for her.

“She’d always tell me how bad smoking was for me,” you murmur, tentatively moving your fingers to wrap around the cigarette that was hanging between her fingers, slipping it out of her grasp and dropping it to the ground, letting your foot crush it with the heel of your shoe, “How I should stop, how I should be thanking her for ‘saving’ my life because she was. She did save me.”

At your words, Wanda turns her head to look at you in the eyes, memories of the many meetings in the old convenience store car park filling her mind as you watched the nostalgia swirl in her eyes, her mind recalling the sheer excitement that would swarm through her stomach as she took those steps towards your truck, ready to feel free from the world. However, the reminiscent look swiftly faded to anguish, your shoulders slumping at the way her eyes flickered away from you, a visible glossiness coating them as she tried to stop more tears from spilling down her cheeks, the corner of her lips attempting to tug upwards as she whispered to you,

“You owe me a cigarette,” her voice wavered as she attempted to tease you, mimicking the tease you would always offer her after she ended your smoke early, earning a small, gentle smile from you as your tender expression encouraged her to look at you again.

Gazing into her eyes once again only stirred more emotions inside you both, your soft stare somehow seeming to still the storm raging on inside her head and heart, the lingering fog more manageable for her as she reluctantly let herself sink into the comfort you provided, a gnawing thought at the back of her mind desperately trying to convey to her that she didn’t deserve your care, not after the pain she caused you.

“I think you owe me more,” you whisper in a delicate tease, offering her a playful smile in an attempts to ease the pain in her, seeming to succeed as a timid smile graces her lips, her hands coming up to wipe away the stray tear that spilt whilst she kept her green on you, relishing in the safety your presence provided. You lost yourself momentarily in her eyes, both of you subconsciously leaning your bodies closer together as your shoulders brushed briefly, sending a spark through the both of you at the mere touch, an electric warmth flowing through you both as the gaze lingered longer than it should have, each passing second amplifying every emotion you felt.

You wanted to let your fingers graze the soft skin of her cheek, wipe away the other tear that trickled down her skin before cupping her face, letting her sink into your palm that was there to comfort and console her, but you knew it wasn’t right. You couldn’t do that to her, offer her that false sense of hope and safety knowing that it couldn’t happen again, you couldn’t do that to yourself. You couldn’t.

“I told you Wanda, I’m here for you,” you murmur, honesty lacing your words as a hint of pain washes over her face at the conflict coursing through her veins, the care you provided tearing her apart. She didn’t deserve your kindness, she didn't, you should hate her for everything, for the lies, for what she did to you, why couldn’t you just make this easier for her? Instead, you had to give her the one thing she craved, the care and look of love she had yearned for over the last twelve years. “Tell me what’s wrong,” you practically coo, her eyes fluttering shut in defeat as she battles between following her heart or her mind, her lower lip trembling slightly, only furthering your worry.

“I can’t,” she croaks out, reluctantly opening her eyes after she manages the words out, a hint of confusion but also realisation on her face as you watch her battle with her demons once again, that desperate look in her eyes as she begs you to not push it further, to push her to face the truth. “I can’t,” she whispers again, emphasising the pain it would cause her as she looks away from you, needing this conversation to end so she could escape the doubts picking away at her mind. “You should probably go home now, Lucky must be tired,” she tries to excuse, looking at the way the bundle of fluff lays by your feet, his head resting on his paws as he sleeps, the walk tiring him out.

“I’m not leaving you like this,” you say without hesitation, a serious tone seeping into your words as you look at her, noticing the way she avoids your pleading gaze. “You don’t deserve this Wanda,” you murmur, expressing your concern for her as she shakes her head at you, the part of her she despises dismissing your words.

“I’ll be fine,” her watery green meets yours, trying to persuade you to stop caring about her for once in your life, the raw look of guilt and regret swirling in her eyes making your throat tighten as you can imagine the thoughts playing on her mind like a broken record.

“I’m not leaving you, not again,” you murmur out, lowering your head slightly to try and meet her gaze as she looks away from you, hoping that you’d get the hint and walk away from her, letting her drown in misery on her own as she had done since you left.

“Please,” the word fell from her lip in a pleading tone, but even Wanda didn’t truly know what she was begging you to do. She wanted you to leave, to stop bubbling pain, hurt and conflict inside her but she also needed you to stay, to let her try and focus on the brief happiness, love and care you stirred within her, her head tilting to look at you, the lingering look her green gave you telling you what she wanted.

“I’m not leaving,” you whisper, highlighting your honesty behind your words as your gaze turned serious momentarily, needing her to know you weren’t here to hurt her again, despite the avalanche of pain your arrival back in Westview brought her. When she stays quiet, a hesitant look in her eyes, an idea pops into your mind, a nervousness growing on your face as the thought may not be the best idea, but you didn’t care if it meant she wasn’t alone.

“I’m not leaving, not without you. Come…Come with me,” you murmur in an apprehensive voice, her eyes widening a little bit at what you were suggesting before continuing, “We don’t have to do anything, we can sit in silence, or we can talk, or we can watch those sitcoms you love, I don’t care. We’ll do whatever you want just please don’t make me leave you alone like this, I can’t do it again.” At the rawness and regret seeping into your voice, she realised the sheer amount of torment the memory of walking away from her caused you, further confusing her as her features subconsciously softened at the pain in your voice, her mouth parting, unsure of what to say.

It wasn’t going to be a good idea, you both knew that as you longingly looked at each other, waiting for the other to say ‘no’, to not let this situation get any worse but neither of you did, you simply kept looking at each other as though the world around you was fading away, leaving you both to remain locked in the moment. All Wanda knew right there as you stared at her with a look that expressed more than what words could, was that she wanted you. She wanted your safety, your care, your comfort, just you.

***

Relaxing against your sofa, Wanda’s eyes travelled across the décor in your house as you wandered off to find the two of you a drink, trying to figure out what you were like now but failing as her focus soon switched to the bundle of golden fur heading her way, the corner of her lips inevitably tugging up at the dog’s actions. Her heart melted a little at the way Lucky effortlessly hopped up onto the sofa to join the other woman, his body circling a couple times in the spot next to her before dramatically flopping, his head moving to prop itself on her knee, sensing she needed a little comfort. His eyes looked up at her as her fingers naturally moved to pet him, her slender digits trailing up and down his soft locks as he sighed in a satisfied manner, pleased to be given the head scratches whilst a chuckle left her lips at his adorable state.

Her attention remained focussed on him as she let herself slowly relax further against your soft pillows, her fingers mindlessly playing with tufts of fur as her eyes took in some of the photos on your wall, the one of a young Natasha and yourself standing out to her as well as one of you hugging an unfamiliar woman, a sense of curiosity stirring in her as she let her gaze linger on the framed photo.

Oblivious to your return, you paused at the frame of the door with her requested glass of red in your hand to stare at her, a strange sensation consuming you whilst you observed the other woman, a lump forming in your throat. It felt… teasing to look at her like this, the domestic sight of her almost mocking you for how you never got to have her in your life like this, the way she was curled up on your sofa, with your dog, in your house an image that would make you ponder and wish things were different. Why couldn’t things have just worked out?

The thought played on your mind momentarily before you pushed it away, remembering the only reason she was here was to be comforted and not left to suffer on her own, your mind clearing of any selfish thoughts or desires you had as it wasn’t the time. It never seemed to be the right time.

Sitting next to Lucky, a smile found its way to your lips as his tail started to wag, creating a sound similar to a beating drum against the sofa at his excitement to see you, his head remaining on Wanda though as he was far too comfortable to move, your gaze following his to the soft and less despondent look on her face, a small feeling of triumph floating through you at the lack of tears threatening to spill.

“I think he likes you,” you playfully whisper whilst sitting back, turning the tv on quietly to have some background noise as Wanda sipped on her drink, a small smile stretching across her lips, hiding some of the nerves building inside her at being alone with you in private, the alcohol attempting to ease them. Nodding to your words as she was unable to find the courage to reply, a silence seemed to brew between you both as your gazes locked onto the tv screen, mindlessly watching whatever show was on as your fingers stroked Lucky’s back whilst Wanda’s his scratched his scalp, neither one of you wanting to be the first to speak up, leaving you both to your thoughts.

Her mind naturally went to the earlier events of the evening with Vision, her jaw clenching as frustration wrapped tightly around her heart, spreading like wildfire at the words he had shouted, at the words she had shouted. The argument had started by a small remark from the blonde man, purposely irritating his wife about the cleaning and triggering over a decade’s worth of bottled up emotions to force their way out of her as she finally reached her breaking point. She couldn’t do it, she couldn’t live this life with him anymore, she wanted more. Wanda wasn’t a servant or a slave, she wasn’t put into existence to serve him his food, clean and take care of the kids despite everything that was engraved into her. She wanted more, she deserved more. She had dreams and ambitions, she wanted a life she enjoyed, a life where she woke up in the morning and was excited about the day ahead of her and the happiness that would consume her. She wanted a life full of love and excitement, a life with someone else, a life with… It didn’t matter if she wanted it, she couldn’t have it, she couldn’t have you.

Sitting next to you after all this time caused her thoughts to roam about your life as her eyes occasionally flickered over to the photo of the unfamiliar woman, a strange feeling of jealousy building in her as she wanted to know more about you, about your life in England. You had managed to move on, to be happy it seemed, how? It tormented her, the other woman never truly getting over what had happened between you as she threw herself straight into Vision more committedly, deciding to push the issue away rather than confront it like another aspect of her life, part of her wanting to know how to deal with it all as it all seemed to pile up and drown her now. Why couldn’t she move on? She needed to.

After drinking and sitting in silence for a while, the deafening lack of noise started to annoy Wanda, her hand lifted her glass to finish her wine in an attempt to build the courage to ask you a question, her gaze turning to you, inviting you to meet her curious green.

“Can you tell me about England?” She tentatively asks, breaking the quietness that had surrounded the room as you offer her a gentle smile, a wave of happiness growing on your face as you see her guard seeming to lower, becoming more comfortable and less overwhelmed than before.

“It… It was amazing,” you say in a whisper, smiling to yourself as memories over the last decade flood your mind, reminding you of how much you loved the place and the city you were in. “It was beautiful but in its own unique way,” you start off with, struggling to think of a way to describe it, “I loved it, the city of London, the people, just everything. I thought I’d spend the rest of my life there but things don’t always work out ,” the happiness in your voice clearly fades away to the end of your words, only further amplifying the curiosity in the woman next to you as she can’t help but admire your features, her green travelling across your side profile, appreciating your beauty before she realised she was staring, letting her gaze drift to Lucky who hopped off the sofa to leave you two completely alone.

“What happened?” she questioned a little cautiously, your smile dropping momentarily making the woman next to you wish she never asked. “I’m sorry, you don’t have to tell me that,” she mumbled but you just shook your head, deciding there was no point in keeping it a secret.

“No it’s ok,” you softly murmur out, needing to say it out loud and get it off your chest, even if Wanda wasn’t the right person to be sharing it to. You needed to say this for yourself, to acknowledge that it had happened and move on completely from it. “I made the mistake of falling in love again,” your tone is gentle despite the hurt underlying it, Wanda’s attention focussed solely on you as she listens attentively. “Gamora, my best friend,” you say whilst motioning over to the photo of you and the dark haired woman, having caught Wanda staring at it a couple times, “Introduced me to a work friend of hers, Valkyrie. We hit it off instantly, it was um… passionate to start with before we both realised we wanted more. I wanted more with her,” you confess, the memories of tender nights with her, loving caresses and delicate touches filling your mind as a small smile made its way to your lips briefly as you remembered how deeply you loved her. That was always your problem, you loved too much. “Cut to a few years later and we were engaged, I thought I’d finally found the right person to spend the rest of my life with but it turns out she didn’t feel the same.”

Your gaze lowers from the tv to the floor as the haunting image replayed in your mind, a deep, frustrated sigh escaping you as it still angered and hurt you to this day, the knife in your back twisting violently as you try your best to vocalise another painful experience that would torment you forever.

“A couple weeks before the wedding, I came home early from work to surprise her but instead… I caught her in our bed with her maid of honour between her legs,” your voice wavers as you manage to get the words out, a bitterness lacing your tone as you felt the onslaught of frustration and hurt gnaw away at your thoughts, your eyes flickering over to hers momentarily to gauge her reaction.

Wanda’s features softened as she listened to you, knowing that you never deserved that, her heart physically hurting for you as you deserved to be loved right. She knew how caring, compassionate and tender you were, how you remembered the little things about people and made sure they were always alright, you should never have been hurt by Valkyrie or herself. You hadn't done anything wrong, you never had.

“The worst part was, she had the nerve to blame me,” you say in a breathless laugh, slowly exhaling to stop yourself from getting too annoyed, words falling from your lips freely, “She said she only went to Carol because it was clear I was still in love with someone else.” Almost instantly, you realised you shouldn't have said the words to her, a look of confusion swirling in her eyes before the realisation kicked in, a tension building in the room as you looked away in embarrassment and fear, not having wanted to send more racing thoughts through both of your minds.

“Were you?” She asks in a delicate whisper, a familiar ache tightly gripping both of your hearts as you both realise what you could have had, the different lives you could have lived if it had just worked out.

Part of her wants you to say no, begs for you to say no as insecurities pick away at her mind mercilessly, reminding her of how wrong it was to think of you in that way, to think of loving you whilst the other part did everything she was against. She didn’t have it in her to pretend anymore, she was exhausted from pushing it down, of lying to herself, berating herself for wanting something, for wanting someone. Despite how frightening and reluctant she was, she needed to confront herself, there was no use in coming up with another excuse or a stupid reason. She… wanted you, that’s all she ever wanted. She loved you.

All the doubts swarming her head were nothing compared to the yearning she had for you, everything seeming to click into place in her mind as she finally realised you were always worth the risk of loving. You made her feel like she was living, that she was lovable and that there was a reason her heart was beating in her chest, sending warmth through her when she’d stare at you. It was your eyes she wanted to get lost in as she relished in the sound of your laughter filling the room, it was your hair she wanted to play with mindlessly as you relaxed against one another, that inevitable spark going through her at the slightest of touches you’d offer her. It was you she wanted to love.

Catching the various emotions swirling in her hypnotising green, you hold the intimate stare whilst your features soften, pausing before answering as the shared silence expressed more than words could. Your lips parted as you went to answer her honestly, your heart beating wildly in your chest as longing evidently consumed your features, the movement causing her gaze to lower, drifting to your lips and unable to look away as you wet them subconsciously. All the other woman could think about was what it would feel like to kiss you, to kiss you like you were her lover this time, not holding back anything.

When her eyes flicker back up to your stare, all you can think of is the memory of how her lips felt against yours, your mind cruelly imagining the feeling of them crashing to yours now, despite how wrong it would be. If you concentrate hard enough, you could feel the ghost of them brushing yours tenderly, conveying every single ounce of longing the two of you felt into it, a kiss that would heal the wound of your heart or tear it completely into two.

“I think I’ve always been,” you confess, your heartbeat pounding in your ears at the brief silence that envelopes the room, feeling as though it lasted an eternity, time seeming to slow as you both subtly move closer to one another, confusion drowning you. You didn’t know what to do as you watched the gap between the two of you gradually lessen, your head tilting marginally as hers did, welcoming the advances as your lips got closer and closer, your faces mere inches apart as you gaze at her lips, not knowing what to you. You wanted to kiss her, you’d been wanting to for the last decade, but you couldn’t do it all over again if it meant getting your heart shattered once more, you wouldn’t be able to survive the heartache again.

Letting your eyes flutter shut, a small sigh escaped you as you paused, trying to stall as your mind raced, trying its hardest to make a decision on whether it was worth the risk, whether the broken bond could ever truly be fixed.

“We shouldn’t,” you croak out as you feel her lips ghost yours, the warmth of her body intoxicating, the feeling of her breath tickling your face almost nostalgic as memories of the many kisses you had shared filtered through your mind, every stolen kiss trying to ignite the fire in your heart.

“I know,” she whispered out, your faces so close you can feel her lips move as she murmurs to you, her words laced with conflict as she struggles to decide along with you, logic failing to win her over. She was married, she had a family and a life she couldn’t just throw away like it was nothing, despite not enjoying it, she had to be responsible as she wasn’t a young naïve girl anymore. The reason and sense gnawing away at her was soon drowned out by her emotions, Wanda deciding it was time she did something for herself for once, “But I’ve missed you.”

Her words stirred something deep inside you, a tenderness settling within you before it was dampened out by the fear seeping out of your chest as you couldn’t do this again. Not like this. You couldn’t survive the agony that would rip through you if she changed her mind or avoided the truth again, you were too broken to handle the knife being pulled out of your heart, to feel that brief moment of relief for it to just be thrusted in deeper, leaving an even bigger scar behind to remember her by. You were too scared to take the risk.

“I can’t,” the words are torn out of you as your hand moves to cup her cheek, your contrasting actions only adding to the hurt and rejection flooding through her, breaking the dam that was holding back her emotions as a tear falls from her eyes, further adding to your anguish. “I’m sorry but I can’t, not like this, not again,” you mumble out, meeting her broken gaze in a distraught manner, the warmth of your delicate touch burning into her skin as it was all too much for her, her lips trembling at the avalanche crashing down on her.

She wanted to scream, to cry and let everything out but all she could manage was a choked sob, a familiar tightening in her chest and lump forming in her throat making it impossible for her to do anything other than look at you with an expressive look of pain as the walls of despair closed in forcibly on her.

It tore a gaping hole in you to witness her fall apart in front of you, took everything out of you to not let tears pour down your cheeks as she sobbed because of you once again, your body moving without care as your hand cradled the back of her head, encouraging her to collapse against your body in an embrace you both needed. Whispered apologies fell from your lips in an attempt to sooth the guilt ripping through you for hurting her, to fill the room with something other than her muffled cries as she gripped onto your shirt, unable to stop the barrage of tears spilling from her green at the way fear, rejection and heartache festered deep inside her, your caring actions not going unmissed but dampened out by the overwhelming amount of agony filling her. 

The two of you remained in the embrace of lost lovers until your cries eventually quietened, a despondent realisation clouding both of your minds at the fact the melody of your love seemed to forever be out of tune, your souls moulded for one another but just always seeming to meet at the wrong time, never quite aligning. 

---

Did I mention that this fic involves angst?😅

Sorry if this feels rushed/is all over the place, I've been really struggling with writing at the minute and this is the best I could do without throwing my laptop out of the window. 

Updates may take longer now as I managed to get a job and I'm returning to college next week, so apologies in advance! Also, I think we're nearly at the end of this fic but it depends on if I change my plan as I do that a lot :) 

I hope you enjoyed! 

Please leave any thoughts/comments/votes! They are greatly appreciated <3 

Ao3- LoveIsAnImaginaryDagger

Wattpad- LovePersevering2

[mrsmangi]

omg red carnation 😫

the morning after - luigi mangione

♡ flower prompt: red carnation - a moment of yearning - meaning: pale red carnations often symbolize admiration and feelings of longing for someone–often used to convey the message of ”my heart aches for you.” ♡ w.c.: 1.7k ♡ a/n: god, i love me some ANGST. 👹 listen to hozier's cover of "do i wanna know?" by the arctic monkeys as you read because that's all i listened to writing this piece. it is HEAVILY inspired by it. i love YEARNING, anon. thank you for this!! enjoy!

♡ send me a flower & i'll write a drabble based off the prompt ! ↪ prompts that have been requested

The mug that rests in Luigi’s hands feels unfamiliar and wrong to hold in his grasp. The ceramic is smooth and cool beneath his fingers, but the nicked rim catches slightly against his thumb. It’s a minuscule imperfection, but one that makes his chest tighten. 

It’s just a mug, he thinks to himself, but the weight of it feels out of proportion. He sets it down carefully on the counter to avoid spilling the transparent golden liquid within. His thumb drifts over the rim in slow, absent circles, memorizing the curve of it and where its damage lays. It had been yours–a small, chipped thing you’d brought over to his place when you first started staying over. You always liked it. 

Now, sitting at his kitchen table, Luigi feels like it may be the only tangible connection to you he has in the vast quietness of his apartment. He pushes it away, cautiously–like one wrong move might shatter the last piece of you he has left. 

The morning sunlight creeps in through his blinds in sharp, golden slats, illuminating the sink, the stove, and the bare spot on the counter where your favorite jar of honey once sat. The honey you always claimed would make every tea he drank better. Now it’s gone–tossed into the trash in a fit of frustration last night, when he felt like he couldn’t bear the sight of it mocking him anymore. It’s absence doesn’t bring him the closure he thought it would. It feels more like theft, like he’s stolen something from himself that he can no longer get back. 

The eggs on his plate are cold now. His toast has grown hard, the butter dried to a faint sheen. He can’t find it in himself to eat, but the ritual of cooking has felt like the only thing to keep him tied to reality. With a great sigh, he pushes himself up from the table, grabs his plate and tosses it in the trash. He moves to the sink.

His breath catches in throat when he stares into it, water dripping from the faucet. Rhythmic, almost hypnotic, but not enough to drown out the loud noise in his head. 

He wonders if you’ve eaten yet. It’s nearly 11am. You always skipped breakfast unless he made it for you, claiming that coffee was enough to get you through the day–at least, until the time a late lunch or an early dinner rolls around. 

Are you drinking coffee now sitting in a different kitchen? Are there ghosts that haunt you as you poke at a half-assed prepared frozen meal you’ve warmed up in the microwave? Or are you still in bed, with your face pressed into the pillow just like he was less than an hour ago? The image comes to him so vividly, he can hardly breathe.

The curve of your shoulder peeking out from beneath the blanket, hair wildly tangled and soft against your pillowcase. 

Luigi wonders if you’re thinking about him like he’s thinking about you. If you’ve already poured yourself a cup of coffee this morning and let your mind wander to the weight of the mug in your hand. Are you recalling how he always scolded you for your caffeine addiction? What about the way he chided you for using both creamer and sugar, not one or the other? Maybe you’re aching for his presence just as much as he’s aching for yours, closing your eyes and trying to push it away. Maybe you’re relieved now without him–free of the weight of everything you two built and tried so hard to hold together, before it inevitably fell apart.

Luigi turns on the sink and lets the cold water run through his fingers. He stares down at the porcelain plate in his hand like it may hold the answers to all the questions he has. But it doesn’t. Nothing does, and he’s not sure anything ever will. Not knowing is worse than anything else. 

Even so, Luigi continues to hope. Hope for the idea that maybe, just maybe, you’re sitting there now at your table, holding your mug, staring out at nothing, and wondering the same things about him. Hoping that no matter how far you’ve strayed from him, you still feel the weight of him lingering in the space between breaths. 

The thought of you always circles back to him, no matter how hard he tries to shove it to the back of his mind. Does his name cross your name the way yours has refused to leave his? He glances over his shoulder back to the table. 

His phone sits on it, heavy with dread and danger. He’s spent the entire morning thinking about picking it up, dialing your number, just to hear your voice one more time. Maybe if Luigi hears you laugh or even just say his name, the ache will dull itself, but he knows better. 

The urge to call you after a few drinks last night was unbearable. He sat there on the couch in his living room with his phone in his hand, thumb hovering over your contact, trying to justify it. Maybe you were thinking about him too, after you decided to leave. Maybe you were lying awake, staring at the ceiling like he had, missing him too. 

Temptation scorched him, yearning burned through him. It grew hotter and more insistent with every passing second away from you. 

He had shoved his phone into his nightstand drawer and stared at it like it might leap back into his hand on its own. What a betrayal–not to you, but to himself. It felt like admitting he’d never really stopped being yours, even after everything, even after you walked out of his life. 

Now, the clarity is no kinder. The thought haunts him. 

If he called, would you pick up? Would you let it ring–let the silence between you stretch wider and deeper, until it becomes something unbridgeable? Fear twists in his gut, but it’s nothing compared to the longing. He tries to imagine what he’d even tell you. Something casual, maybe? 

“I miss you.” Too raw.

“I’m sorry.” Too desperate.

“I love you.” Too…much. 

He turns toward the table where the phone lies face down. It hasn’t buzzed. Luigi knows for a fact that it hasn’t, but his heart lurches with false hope anyway. He shuffles toward it and picks it up. It feels like tearing open a wound just to see if it will still bleed. There’s no texts from you. No missed calls. He stares at the empty screen before setting it back down with trembling hands. 

He becomes hyper aware of the oppressive silence looming over his apartment, but he’s too afraid to break it. He can’t even stand to hear the sound of his own voice now. His gaze drifts to the small, framed photo in the center of the table–the one of you at the beach. 

Your face is lit up with laughter because he had tried and failed to keep the wind from blowing your hair into your mouth. It had stuck to your lipgloss slightly, but he still thought you looked gorgeous. He had taken the photo on a whim, snapping it just as you turned toward him, mid-laugh, eyes sparkling. It’s his favorite picture of you by far, even now, when just looking at it feels like a knife is being driven straight through his stomach. 

He picks it up, fingers brushing over the glass. Luigi can hear your laughter now, the feeling of sand beneath his feet, and the warmth of your hands in his as you pull him to the water. Now, the picture just feels like a cruel joke. A snapshot of a moment that no longer exists, a version of you he doesn’t recognize anymore. He sets it back down, face down this time. 

He wonders if you’ve called your friends by now. Are they comforting you, reassuring you that you’ve made the right choice, that you’ll feel better soon? Are they already making jokes about your next “better” guy, encouraging you to move on? 

The thought twists something inside of him, sharp and painful, but he knows how this goes. Luigi has been through his fair share of breakups, though none of them have ever left him feeling quite like this. Friends will tell you to keep busy, to distract yourself, to swipe right on someone new or focus on hobbies or dive into your work. Anything to keep from drowning in your sorrow. Hell, they could be doing that now. 

Maybe they’re telling you you’ll find someone more stable, more exciting, less flawed. And maybe, worst of all, you’re listening to them, nodding along and pretending you’re not in pain. Are you laughing at their jokes, even if you don’t find them funny at all? His jaw tightens. 

He can see it now: someone sitting across from you at breakfast, breaking their back just to try to make you laugh. Someone else taking your photo at the beach, someone else bringing you coffee and getting your order wrong because they could never know you like he does. 

The idea of someone else feels impossible to Luigi. Laughable, even. He’s too caught in the moment, too tangled in the remnants of you, to even think about moving on. He doesn’t want to. The thought of someone else sitting in your chair at his kitchen table, filling the space you used to fill, feels wrong. As if the idea of trying to replace you is enough to make him completely irreparable. 

He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. Maybe you’re as stuck as he is, too busy being his to fall for someone new. Are you thinking of picking up your phone after having a few? He always does. 

Luigi takes a seat at his table and rests his head against the cool surface of the wood. The sun is higher now, past the blockage of his blinds, casting longer shadows across the floor. He closes his eyes, letting your memory wash over him, even though the thought of you hurts impossibly so. He can still see you, hear you, feel the ghost of your touch against his skin. It’s torture, but he doesn’t want it to go away just yet. 

Luigi’s ache, as unbearable as it is, is all he has left of you, pulling him back in a desperate way he can’t comprehend. He can’t unlearn crawling–inevitably, slowly, and helplessly–back to the only place his heart knows to go: you.

[dindjarindiaries]

The Unstoppable Tide

summary: Once Hunter finally let go, there was no holding back, and you were the only person who could keep him from drowning.

pairing: hunter (the bad batch) x reader

tags: hurt/comfort, angst and fluff, trauma, mentions of physical torture, injuries, nightmares, anxiety attack, canon compliant (tech doesn’t live), mentions of death

rating: T

word count: 4.627k

main masterlist • hunter masterlist

You woke to an unfamiliar room, and the pitch black shadows that blanketed it were no help in trying to investigate your surroundings. With a silent yawn, you blinked into the darkness, lifting your head from the pillow as you did so. The movement stretched the fabric of your tunic uncomfortably, and looking down, you fell upon an odd realization.

You were still in your clothes from yesterday. You frowned and attempted to jog your tired memory. Your faithfulness to your nighttime routine was rarely ever interrupted or deterred, especially since you had all returned to Pabu for good.

Then again, it had been a whirlwind of a week. From losing Omega again to getting her back and taking up permanent residence on Pabu, there were a lot of things the group was sorting through, yourself included. It was no wonder why you had been too exhausted to even exchange your clothes.

But that still didn’t explain the unfamiliar room. One glance at your surroundings was all it took, because now that your eyes had adjusted, you could finally see the silhouette positioned at the end of the bed you were currently lying in.

Your eyes widened as the memory washed over you. This was Hunter’s room, and you certainly hadn’t meant to fall asleep inside of it.

You had been helping him rebandage the wounds on his side, a nicely-healing gash that covered his broken ribs from the hit he took in an explosion on Tantiss. That alone had taken a lot of convincing; Hunter’s defenses had somewhat fallen after you had all brought Omega back to Pabu safely, but they went right back up once he had gotten a wink of rest.

As you finished wrapping him up, you had started to gently lecture him on the importance of getting more sleep, as he had clearly been avoiding it ever since that first night back. The circles under his eyes were almost as dark as the left side of his ribcage, where his wounds were. At some point, however, Hunter had fallen asleep during your lecture, and you had let yourself linger, if only to share a peacefully quiet moment with him.

You must have also joined him in slumber. It didn’t have to be a bad thing, not at all as far as you were concerned, but Hunter was in too fragile of a state for you to be overstaying welcomes—and the fact he had his back to you now was even more worrying.

Hunter wasn’t even reacting to the fact that your heartbeat had clearly picked up ever since you woke, and that alone promised that something very, very wrong was happening with him. He wasn’t listening to his powerful senses. He was listening to something else.

You dared to sit up as you held a breath in your chest. He was hunched over slightly, as if he was leaning on something, and he was still without a tunic, thanks to the fresh bandage on his side. Otherwise, he was completely still, making him look like one of the other many shadows scattered throughout the room.

You managed to swallow around the lump in your throat and moved forward. Once you got closer to him, you hesitated, taking in what you could from this distance. He had one arm crossed over himself, and the other was leaning against it as he pinched the bridge of his nose—a typical position when his senses were in disarray, or when the weight of the galaxy was simply too much.

In this case, it was probably both, judging by the deep furrow in his brow.

You finally sat at Hunter’s side, letting your legs hang off the edge of the bed as you looked over at him. His eyes were still shut tight, and like before, he remained unmoving. You dared to lift your hand to his bare shoulder, touching the warmth of his skin with as much delicacy as you could manage.

“Hey.”

Your voice was a mere whisper to avoid shocking him and his senses. You resisted the urge to flinch when Hunter lowered his hand enough to turn his head towards you. His dark eyes widened just a bit more than usual.

“You okay?”

Hunter’s lips parted as if he was about to respond, but nothing came out. His shoulder rose and fell under your touch with the unsteady breath he took. You grimaced at the sound of it, a gesture that only deepened when Hunter lifted his hand to ease yours off of him.

“I’m sorry,” the guilt began pouring in waves, “I should’ve asked you before I—.”

“It’s fine.”

Hunter’s voice was curt and rougher than usual as he spoke. You really did flinch that time, unused to hearing him speak like that. Still, there was a softness in the way he eased your hand onto your own leg before letting go.

“Just… go back to your bed.” He lifted his fingers to his nose again and pinched it even tighter, his eyes soon following suit.

You sat there, undecided, for a few long heartbeats. You folded your hands together in your lap and dared to speak up again. “Hunter…”

“Don’t.” Hunter tensed more than he had before, which was visible without a tunic to conceal the muscles on his upper half. His eyes squeezed even harder, as did his brow. “Please, just leave and get some rest.”

But that was the last thing you wanted to do, knowing he was in such a state. You could see that he had started to tremble, something that was evident not just in his hands, but also in his voice—and his breathing, which was only getting more and more labored. Hunter was trying to hide it, but it was clearly becoming too much to control.

And he wanted you to leave him to deal with it on his own.

“I’ll be fine.” You nodded and leaned closer to him. “You don’t have to be alone right now. Let me help you.”

Something in your words made Hunter snap. He turned towards you even more quickly than last time, his words biting through gritted teeth. “Leave.”

You stared back at him in disbelief, though you had at least leaned back in surprise at the quick motion. Hunter let out an exhale that was nearly a gasp, as if he was losing air. His gaze couldn’t meet yours as he instead focused on the floor, his chest now rising and falling more rapidly than before.

“Please...”

Hunter once again wrapped an arm around himself and leaned the other against it, though this time, he tightened his hand into a fist and rested his forehead against it. He was so tense that every muscle you could see was pulled taut, which certainly wouldn’t bode well for his injuries.

“Please make this easier for me, and leave.”

Your eyes were burning with unshed tears when he finally went silent again. You weren’t sure if they were from the hurt he was causing you by pushing you away like this or from the intense concern and sympathy you had for him. Either way, you weren’t going to ignore his request again, not when he was already millimeters away from fracturing in a way you had never witnessed before.

You rose from the bed and eased yourself over to the door, only pausing again when you were standing directly across from it. You spared a look at Hunter over your shoulder. His face was in his hands, as if he was just waiting for your heartbeat to fade before letting himself shatter. You closed your eyes and forced yourself to step forward through the sliding door, though you remained glued in place when it shut behind you.

Because you heard that first cry, that heart-splintering sob that no one should ever have to let out by themselves. The sound of someone so strong finally falling underneath the weight of everything burden they have been carrying for way too long. The door did a poor job of muffling what was happening inside that room, and the last thing you wanted to do was leave. You wouldn’t be able to sleep, anyway.

Hunter would always be the first to say that none of you were keen on following orders.

You turned and let the door open again, admitting yourself back inside the dark space. Hunter looked up at you from his hands, and what you were met with splintered your heart into a million different fragments. His face was screwed up in a kind of vulnerable despair and panic that you had never seen from him before, not even after Tech fell and Omega was captured the first time.

You strode towards him. “I’m not letting you go through this alone, Hunter.”

You stopped just a few paces away from where he still sat on the edge of the bed, his wet eyes glistening when a fraction of moonlight caught them through the blinds of the viewport.

“You don’t have to hide from me. I know that you’re—.”

You cut yourself off when Hunter suddenly stood and approached you. He wrapped his arms around you and splayed his palms upon your back, holding you so tightly against him that you lost your breath for a moment. He eased his grasp when he heard the breath escape your lungs, but the desperation remained, evident in the way he trembled against you.

Lastly, he buried his face in the space between your neck and shoulder, breathing you in with a sharp exhale like you alone could save him.

You finally recovered enough from your initial shock to hold him back, with one hand positioned on his head as the other ran over his back. You were careful with his wounds that were still healing, but there was no doubt now that his external injuries weren’t nearly as bad as those he had been hiding within himself all this time.

Hopefully, he was ready to heal those untreated wounds, rather than letting them fester within himself.

Hunter wasn’t really crying, not from what you could tell, but the trembling was getting worse—as was his breathing. It was easy to understand now why he couldn’t grasp your senses before; his own heart was beating hard enough to drown out just about everything else.

“I’ve got you.” Your voice was a soft whisper as you repeated assurances he had certainly said to you and the others a dozen times over, when he held onto his composure for the sake of soothing everyone else around him. “You’re safe.”

It was hard to pinpoint what exactly had Hunter breaking down like this, but your best guess was that his memories of Tantiss were haunting him, however brief his time spent there actually was. He had given you a brief account purely for medical reasons, but the others had filled you in on what they could.

He had endured awful torture, all while he was still processing the pain of his untreated wounds and feeling the pain of them more than anyone else in the galaxy ever would, thanks to his senses—senses that were supposed to be a gift, used against him.

You tightened your jaw and closed your eyes. Hunter didn’t need anger; that was one of the emotions that had caused him to spiral like this. He needed softness, reassurance, and comfort.

“No one will hurt you like that again.” Your voice was as gentle as the hand that ran over the hair at the crown of his head, minding the edges of his bandana. “I promise.”

Hunter physically relaxed at that, but his breathing still wasn’t getting any better. He started to hold you tighter again, and you could hear another gasped exhale buried into your shoulder.

It was clear to you now what was happening, and despite the way you were relishing in his touch, it wasn’t going to help him any longer. You eased your hands onto his shoulders and urged him to pull away from you. His gaze found yours for the first time that night, and your heart dropped into your stomach at everything you found within it.

It was a leader who was afraid, and had no idea what to do next. An eldest brother who failed to find any guidance. A soldier whose anxiety, trauma, and PTSD was getting the best of him for the first time.

He had been so strong to fight it off in the past, but it made you ache that he even had to do that. You should have been there for him before this moment. It shouldn’t have had to come to this.

But you could ruminate over that later. For now, you needed to provide him with the solution he was clearly seeking. You eased him back down onto the edge of the bed by his shoulders, keeping your actions slow and steady as you nodded at him.

“Your mind’s thinking faster than your body can keep up with.”

You ran your thumbs over the skin on his shoulders. Hunter’s gaze never left yours, as if you were anchoring him to reality.

“That’s what’s happening right now. We just have to focus on one thing at a time. Okay?”

Hunter nodded. You offered him a small smile.

“Let’s start by getting your breathing back to normal.” You stood close enough to him that you could ease the side of his head against your chest, letting him and his senses have easier access to your heart and your lungs. “Focus your senses on my lungs, and follow my breaths.”

You inhaled steadily, held it for a few heartbeats, and then let it go again in a long exhale. Your eyes fell closed as you repeated the cycle, but after the fourth or fifth time, you reopened your eyes to watch Hunter’s progress.

His eyes had also closed, and thankfully, his breathing was indeed getting better. He had taken the liberty of setting his hands on your hips to steady himself, but you didn’t mind. You committed the feeling to memory even if your focus remained on his well-being.

After a few more cycles of breathing, you spoke up into the silence. “Better?”

Hunter nodded against your chest, easing his head back up. You let him go, already missing the warmth of his touch as he withdrew it from your hips. His hands held his thighs tight before they slid down to his knees, his stare now darting wildly around the room as if he was truly understanding what had happened.

You tightened your lips and took your spot on the bed beside him again. At least this time, he didn’t push you away. In fact, he kept you close enough for your arm to brush against his, even if he still couldn’t look at you. You let him guide the conversation, and as heavy as his next exhale was, at least it was steady.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

Hunter’s voice was hoarser than usual, and that was saying something for a man who always sounded as if he had roughened up his voice on a daily basis.

You frowned and leaned forward. “Why?”

A muscle in Hunter’s jaw ticked before he finally looked over at you again. His gaze was conflicted, still full of distress while also finding some semblance of comfort in you. “Because.” He looked down at his hands, which flexed over his own legs. “I’m not supposed to fall apart.”

“We’re all bound to at some point.” You eased your hand upon his arm. “Especially when we’ve been through as much as you have.”

Hunter shook his head. “No. I shouldn’t.” He spared a look at you, but it seemed as if he was too guilty to even sustain the glance as his gaze lowered back to his hands. “I have no right to.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “What are you talking about, Hunter?”

His expression morphed into something heavier, and his voice lowered so much that you had to strain to hear it. “Everything that’s happened since Kaller has been my fault.”

You scoffed. “That’s just not true, Hunter.”

“It is.”

Hunter was stern as he finally looked over at you. There was fire in his eyes, but it wasn’t aimed towards you. It was aimed towards himself.

“If I had taken Crosshair with us before we even left Kamino the first time, or if I had at least gone back for him soon after that… there would have been no rescue mission to attempt on Eriadu.”

Hunter’s voice started to shake again, but not as violently as before. Your shoulders fell at the pure grief and despair in his words.

“Tech would still be here.”

You shook your head. “No. I’m not letting you go down this path.” You took his hands and held them between yours. “Because if Tech were here, he’d been absolutely grilling you about how wrong you are right now.”

That at least made Hunter scoff in amusement.

“You said it yourself to Crosshair at that outpost. We didn’t understand what was going on back then.” You lifted your brow at him. “How were you, or any of us, supposed to know what the chips were like, until we had to see it ourselves with Wrecker?”

Hunter sighed. “Yeah, and that should’ve pushed us harder to get Crosshair back.”

“And I’m sure it would’ve, if you hadn’t been shot in the chestplate by that bounty hunter who took Omega. We had a lot going on at that point, Hunter. It was survival mode.”

Hunter circled his jaw. “That’s not an excuse to leave one of our own behind.” He almost looked dizzy as he freed a hand from your grasp to press against his forehead. “Kriff, we… we didn’t even go back for Tech’s body.” He ground out the next name through gritted teeth. “Hemlock was the one to salvage his goggles.”

You gave the hand in your grasp a gentle squeeze. “If we had gone back for his body, we wouldn’t have made it out of there alive.” You fought through the heaviness in your own chest. “Which is the whole reason why Tech sacrificed his life in the first place.”

Hunter’s gaze looked towards the viewport, allowing the moonlight to yet again catch his face. Even with the tattooed side of his face turned towards you, you could still see the glistening of a new tear on the skin beneath his eye, though his body language screamed for him to ignore it. His tone gave nothing away as he spoke again.

“I thought it was gonna happen again.”

You swallowed hard. “What?”

Hunter closed his eyes and hung his head, though he otherwise stood strong. “That I was gonna lose more of them. Of us.” His voice was strained as he went on. “It was the torture that woke me up for the first time since I got knocked out at the hangar. I knew Wrecker and Crosshair were nearby, but their heartbeats were weaker than normal, and the shocks were… overwhelming my senses, anyway.”

You accidentally tightened your grasp on Hunter’s hand hard enough to make him wince. You quickly relaxed, forcing yourself to bite your tongue and let Hunter continue.

“Hemlock came in, and he warned me that history would repeat itself with them.” Hunter shook his head. “I told him we would survive, but a small part of me believed him. The same part that watched that doctor toss me my brother’s own shattered goggles.”

One of your hands drifted up his arm as you held it, your cheek pressing against his skin for comfort. “Hunter…”

“I knew we should’ve listened to Crosshair and stayed in hiding, but everyone wanted the chance to get him back, and I did, too.” Hunter reopened his eyes and looked at you again. “I wanted it so badly. But if I had just done that before, if I had made him come with us off Kamino…”

“Hunter.” You gave his arm a gentle squeeze and lifted your brow, seeking permission to speak. Hunter’s silence allowed you to go on. “You gave him a choice to come with us, and he said no. After the chip took his choices away from him, would you really have wanted to take another one away, too? Even if it wasn’t the right one in your eyes?”

Hunter grimaced, and ultimately, he shook his head.

“Exactly.” You paused, searching his gaze. “You can’t take responsibility for all of Crosshair’s actions.”

“And I won’t, because Crosshair wouldn’t want me to.” Hunter sighed. “But I still can’t help wondering what would have been if I hadn’t let us leave him behind for so long.”

“In that case, the rest of us are just as guilty as you. I don’t remember us putting any pressure on you to go back for him.”

Hunter looked around the room and blinked, as if he was truly processing your words. You took that as an invitation to continue.

“And honestly, Hunter? All roads would have led back to Tantiss, anyway.”

That caught Hunter’s attention again. He glanced at you in disbelief as you went on.

“The Empire, and Hemlock, would always come for Omega. You shouldn’t have had to go through what you did on Tantiss, and every day ever since I’ve wished that I could’ve done something to prevent it, but now that Hemlock’s dead? We don’t ever have to worry about it again.”

You sighed and looked down at your hand, which was now interlocked with Hunter’s own.

“We freed her and those clones. That’s what matters now. One life… in exchange for many, many others.”

You found yourself smiling as you imagined Tech’s voice in your head.

“A certain someone would have been very satisfied by that outcome.”

Hunter huffed, his eyes closing as he nodded. “Yeah. Would’ve rambled on about the quantitative value of it or something.”

You let out a soft laugh. “Exactly.”

You sat in the silence for a few moments, your steady gaze tracking Hunter’s face and tracing the lines of his tattoo until he reopened his eyes. When his stare met yours, you spoke once again.

“The past can’t be undone, Hunter. I know you know that. It’ll take time for these wounds of yours to heal,” you nodded towards his wrapped side, “just like the ones you got on Tantiss, but all you can do now is move forward with what and who you have.”

Hunter took a deep breath, but ultimately, he nodded—with a small smile tugging at his lips. “I’d like that.”

You couldn’t help returning his smile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He hesitated, looking almost nervous as he did so. “I just… I think, like with this one,” he glanced down at his side, “I might need you to help me keep an eye on these wounds.”

“Of course.” You wasted no time reassuring him. “You don’t even have to ask.”

Hunter was beaming at you, now, but your words forced you to reckon with the way you approached this entire situation. You resisted the urge to let out a frustrated groan as you deflated.

“But… I know I should’ve asked a second time before I barged in here.” You looked down. “I’m sorry if I pressured you to talk this through with me. I didn’t—.”

If the hand on your cheek wasn’t enough to make you lose the words inside your throat, then the feeling of Hunter’s mouth on yours certainly was. You were too shocked to do anything at first, especially with everything you were still processing from this night, but you composed yourself quickly enough to avoid letting Hunter think that you didn’t want this gesture that you had absolutely been craving for longer than you’d ever admit.

Hunter only kissed you long enough to make you realize just how badly you needed to do it again, though the warm smile he wore as he pulled away and faced you again made the separation worth it.

“Don’t apologize for that.” He lifted his brow and chuckled in genuine amusement. “I’ve always needed someone who can out-stubborn me.”

You laughed at that. “You sure do make it a challenge, Sarge.”

Hunter gave his eyes a playful role. “I haven’t technically had that rank ever since we deserted.”

“Yet you still act like one.”

Hunter huffed. You let out a light sigh and rested your head against his arm again, closing your eyes in content. Your thoughts, however, still lingered on the larger topic at hand, and you grimaced as you spoke on the dark topic one last time.

“I really am sorry about what you had to go through on Tantiss, and that I wasn’t there to stop it. At least, not in time.” You tightened your jaw. “I wish I could kill Hemlock again for what he did to you.”

The feeling of Hunter’s head against your own caused you to reopen your eyes. You smiled into the darkness of the room. “That just might be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

You chuckled and shook your head, minding his own that still rested against yours. “You’re crazy.” You couldn’t have put more affection into the words if you had tried.

After all, it was that craziness that had drawn you to Hunter and the squad in the first place.

After a few more sweet moments of silence, you patted his arm. “Alright, time to get some rest. Those wounds aren’t gonna heal themselves.”

You looked up at Hunter, whose brow shot up at your words. “Which wounds?”

“All of them.” You held his face for a moment and ran your thumbs over the dark circles under his eyes. “Literally nothing is made better by you avoiding sleep.” You gestured back towards the viewport. “There are no more battles out there for you. You can afford to rest now.”

Hunter shrugged and encouraged you to follow him back towards the other end of the bed. “Maybe I just couldn’t rest because I needed you with me more than I realized.”

You let out a dramatic scoff. “Then thank the stars you finally realized that.” As you laid beside him, you fixed him with a serious look. “I hope you know I’m going to do whatever it takes to make sure you get proper rest, now.”

Hunter raised his brow beside you. “Whatever it takes? Should I put up more of a fight, then?”

It was your turn to roll your eyes before you took the initiative and leaned in for a quick kiss. “If you want more, then you need to sleep.” You nestled yourself into his chest, letting him hold you the way he clearly wanted to, given the hardly concealed desperation of his touch. “Final offer.”

His voice grumbled his response into your head. “Fine.”

Now hidden from his view, you smiled to yourself in victory. There was a lot to mourn, but also a lot to look forward to. Peace was certainly something you had to earn, but with the right people, you didn’t mind the process.

And it was a relief to know that every wave could truly break, wash away, and still return stronger than before. You had no doubt that Hunter would do the same.

main masterlist • hunter masterlist

hunter tag list: @zenrobbins0021 @cw80831 @yunggoblin @maddiedrmr @Molmcb @jellybeanstacey0519 @violetlilly2020

[whumpitisthen]

Kiss them on the neck. Yes i mean in a vampiric blood-lustful dangerously sharp yet gentle way that raises goosebumps and scares them a little. Yes i want it to turn to careful nibbling then biting down steadily then drawing blood then holding them down as they cry and squirm in agony and plead to be let go. Yes i want them to be in pain and terrified and helpless and powerless and i want them to look at me like im a god. Why even do it otherwise

[literaryvein-reblogs]

lovesick

adjective /ˈlʌv.sɪk/ /ˈləvˌsik/

in love, or missing the person one loves, so much that one is unable to act normally

unhappy because of love; feeling weak, foolish, or unhappy because someone you love does not love you

related words & phrases: a long face, abjection, adoring, affectionate, amatory, amorous, angsty, be ardent, be down in the mouth, be in a funk, cut up, devoted, dismayed, displeased, dissatisfied, distraught, distressed, doting, enamored, fervent, fond, forgiving, frustrated, impassioned, infatuated, lachrymose, languishing, lonely, lonesome, longing, love-struck, lovelorn, mushy, passionate, pining, romantic, sappy, sentimental, tender, tenderhearted, woe, woe is me, woebegone, yearning

antonyms & near antonyms: aloof, antisocial, callous, cold, cold-blooded, cold-eyed, cool, detached, disaffected, distant, dry, frigid, frosty, hard-hearted, heartless, indifferent, offish, pitiless, remote, reserved, ruthless, soulless, standoffish, unbending, uncaring, unconcerned, unfeeling, unfriendly, uninvolved, unloving, unromantic, unsentimental

“The folly of all follies is to be love sick for a shadow.” — Alfred Lord Tennyson

“I guess I have a lot of emotion stored up. But it's nothing bad. It's love. It's just love rotting up inside of me...That's it...I have too much love, I think, and nobody to give it to.” — Ottessa Moshfegh

"Come o'er the eastern hills, and let our winds Kiss thy perfumed garments; let us taste Thy morn and evening breath; scatter thy pearls Upon our love-sick land that mourns for thee." — William Blake

"The piano may do for love-sick girls who lace themselves to skeletons, and lunch on chalk, pickles and slate pencils." — Mark Twain

Sources: 1 2 3

[kissapeto]

not to toxic old man yaoi on main but who is going to write that fic where inho Somehow manages to baby trap gihun staying with him after s2 end or do i have to do it myself. like imagine gihun being in the control room or whatever tied up and talking with the frontman and then there's just. baby crying. or a cat meowing. or something along those lines. and both of them just stop

and then somehow gihun ends up being the one taking care of the baby slash cat slash something along those lines . while still technically being a hostage

[mangionebabymama]

what type of nightwear would lu like to see his girl wear around the house? a big tshirt, nightgown, moomoo, 2 piece pajama set, negligee?

It would depend on the night’s occasion, really, but he likes seeing each individual piece on you, as you’re being your most comfortable self around him and you’re his girl.

There’s more nothing that he loves the most than to see you walking around the house in one of his now older, faded UPenn t-shirts that he doesn’t wear much anymore, and that you’ve conquered to take in your possession. The print has started to crackle and peel and it has faded over time from wear, but it doesn’t fade in quality at all when it’s on you.

He’d also find it cute to see you in nightgowns and moomoos, especially with being familiar with the widely known Internet memes that are around online that about women who wore moomoos back in the day and how they were the reason why Paw Paw was paying all the bills and making 10-12 babies—because if truth be told, he easily would do the same.

The two-piece pajama sets would be adorable, too, so much that he’d hope one day you’d surprise him with a matching pair so you can wear them together and be twinning, like around the holidays.

Of course, a negligee would be plentiful enough for him, even if it’s the smallest and least of plentiful lingering on you and may or may not be remain on your body for long.

[vellichorsdesire]

f/o(s) that genuinely cannot comprehend that you love them, at first, because it seems too good to be true… them trying to process every one of your affections, not knowing how to reciprocate or respond to your sweet words or actions maybe. whatever you do with them, even the smallest things, stays in their head for hours and hours afterwards. catching them staring a little too long or being spaced out in general from all of the thoughts of you just running in their head. all those reassurances you give them that eventually make them learn that this love really is real, finding themself hesitating a little more less, growing more and more comfortable… they wonder if you know they love you this much, too

[comfort-character-central]

I want to give my f/o or comfort character a kiss on on their forehead so I can see their smile grow. I want to intertwine my fingers within theirs so I can give them that pure gesture of closeness, gently squeezing their hand. I want to hold them close so they can feel the kindness of my embrace. I want to love them in the most beautiful ways so they can experience what it is like to receive genuine love in a form that is healthy and secure.