#telling myself again and again in my most soothing tones that I am the only one who ever even considered they might not re-up my contract

[ereborne]

my boss has not made a more general announcement about how she's fricking bailing on us. literally already gone multiple states away. taking a new position elsewhere! so I keep being in meetings where she is notably not, explaining to the other attendants why precisely that is so, and I'm getting a lot of immensely cathartic 'oh what the *mic cutoff*' reactions

office worker tip #whatever: outsource your outrage to people who are not direct-reports, because you deserve to hear someone call (or at least see muted people mouthing) bullshit, but unfortunately if you say it yourself your boss even from 400mi away will hear and fire you

[spacesquidlings]

If You Need To, Darling, Lean Your Weight On Me: Soporific

Summary: Finally warm, sleep reaching for her, Aspen finds serenity in the arms of her lover.

Pairing: Astarion x Female Tav (OC Aspen)

Warnings: Suggestive comments

A request from the lovely @spacebarbarianweird !!!!! Thank you so much for this request, and I hope you enjoy this final part!!!! <3<3<3

Table of Contents

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Despite the yearning stitching itself into her mind, sleep evaded Aspen.

She would nod off, giving in to her near overwhelming fatigue, only for Astarion to rouse her over and over. He would pinch her side as she slumped in sleep’s embrace, or prick her skin with his fangs, or splash her gently, waiting until she opened her eyes before he continued.

Each time he would murmur praises against her skin, telling her she had to be strong, to wait just a little longer and she could rest.

If she were honest, although the promise of melting into unconsciousness was far more tempting than even siren song, she preferred when she opened her eyes. When she saw his face, his indulging smile, his amused sigh as he reminded her not to fall asleep.

The sparkle of his eyes, the mischief in his smile, the honeyed sound of his quiet laughter. His hands on her cheeks, in her hair, on her back, soothing the aches in her body as sweet words fell from his lips, soothing the aches in her mind. All of it was so much better than anything conjured in her dreams, it made her struggle against her drowsiness all the more.

She wanted to be with him, she wanted to be with him here in this moment, not lost to sleep’s jealous embrace.

Eventually, Astarion lowered his hands, leaving one final kiss on her cheek. “I’m all finished, darling. How do you feel?”

She smiled, blissfully warm, her tired mind empty of everything but the lines of his smile, the creases at the corners of his eyes. “I feel better.”

“Good, I-” Astarion paused mid-sentence, brow furrowing as she picked up one of their soap bottles, blinking slowly as she tried to keep her mind focused so she did not drift off again. “Love, what in the gods’ names are you doing?”

She lifted the bottle, as if that was answer enough. “Well you helped me. I was going to help you bathe, too.”

With one hand Astarion took the bottle from her, and with the other he pinched the bridge of his nose, groaning. “You can be beyond vexing sometimes.”

She pressed her hands to her chest, wondering if she’d upset him, or if he was merely acting theatrical over something minor. “But… You still love me?”

The plink of his hand into the water as he lowered it was strangely loud in the quiet of the room, not even the crackle of the fires illuminating the storm’s shadows heard above that sound.

Perhaps it was because Aspen worried she always said the wrong thing, perhaps it was because she was so utterly exhausted that she could not think right, but either way her eyes began to burn, sudden anxiety a living thing snaking through her veins.

Astarion reached for her, cupped her cheek, water sluicing down his wrist and along her jaw. “I do love you, dearly.”

She lowered her eyes, her anxiety assuaged only for the heat of contrition to burn in her chest. “I love you too.”

He sighed, gently tilting her head up until their eyes met. “I love you terribly, darling, but you can be so frustrating.”

“How was I frustrating?” She pouted, realizing that he had been most certainly teasing.

“I said I was taking care of you, I’m focused on you right now.”

“But I-”

He tapped his fingers against her lips, quieting her. “I don’t want to hear any of that, darling. My only concern right now is you. I am perfectly capable of washing myself later.”

There was no room in his tone for argument, and barely awake as she was, she did not have the energy to push back. So she nodded, breathing a quiet acquiescence.

“Good,” he said, tilting his head to the side, his eyes seeming to brighten as they caught the flicker of the light. “Now that’s been settled, shall we get you dried off before you fall asleep?”

That was a wonderful idea, and he snorted as she told him, standing from the tub first before helping her out.

Soapy water shining with iridescent rainbows from all the scented oils Astarion had added puddled at their feet as he fetched a towel, helping her to dry off. He ignored the water entirely, letting it trail after them as he took her back into the main room, snatching up a folded blanket on a pile of linens and wrapping it around her before she started shivering again.

“Sit,” he guided her to the bed, fussing as she sat, drawing the blanket tighter around her. It was old, and the wool scratched at her skin, and she knew there would be rashes tomorrow from where it had touched her. But it was clean, and it was warm, so she didn’t much mind. Especially not when Astarion was fretting over her, trying to dry her dripping hair, layering more blankets on her and settling pillows around her.

“My love,” she wiggled her hand out from the layers of blankets draped over her, finding his. He stopped, eyes wide as though she were about to tell him something was broken. “You’re dripping water everywhere. Please go dry off before you catch a cold.”

He blinked, looked down, as if only realizing now that he had in fact not dried himself off, leaving a trail of puddled footprints from the bathroom to the bed, droplets scattered over her blankets and pillows.

A sly smile curled across his lips, and he shot her a suggestive glance beneath the fan of his ivory lashes. “Perhaps I thought the view would help warm you up quicker.”

“Or perhaps you forgot, and now you’re making me upset because you’re going to get sick.”

He rolled his eyes, amused. “Darling, vampires don’t get sick.” When she did not answer, merely narrowed her eyes at him, he lifted his hands up, palms toward her in surrender. “But since it will make you happy, I will go and finish washing myself and dry off.”

He started to make his way back to the bathroom but stopped, beaming at her over his shoulder. “I’ll be quick, darling. Don’t fall asleep.”

“I’m not going to fall asleep.” An empty rebuttal considering how heavy her eyes were, and how often she’d nearly fallen asleep already, and Astarion knew it. 

His head cocked to the side, his brow arched. “You’re full of lies today, my love.”

“I’m not lying!” She spoke in a huff, crossing her arms and slumping forward. “I won’t fall asleep.”

He only laughed, smug as if he were a victor in a game. “It’s hard to believe you, darling. But I do so find your tired moodiness adorable.”

She gaped, unable to come up with a quick retort before he’d vanished into the bathroom.

What did he mean about moodiness? She was not moody, she was just tired, and he’d been upset with her and then he’d teased her mercilessly.

She ended up too focused on her roiling thoughts to doze off, as she surely would have otherwise with the pillows and blankets heaped around her, and when Astarion again emerged she stumbled to her feet, blankets falling by the wayside.

“I’m not moody!” She chucked a pillow at him, and he caught it deftly, looking dazed. “You were just being mean, calling me a liar!”

Astarion tossed the pillow to the side, smirking as understanding dawned in his eyes. “Darling-”

She didn’t let him finish, launching another pillow at him.

Again he caught it, snorting. “You’re proving my point.”

Aspen huffed, turning away and throwing herself onto the bed, her back to Astarion. “Well I’m moody now because you’ve been so mean to me.”

He sighed, although it sounded more like a thinly veiled laugh than anything. “Alright, darling, I won’t call you a liar anymore.”

She faked a sniff, pulling a blanket over her head. She didn’t say anything more, waiting for him to continue.

A moment ticked past, and then another, and then she felt the bed shift as he perched on the edge, leaning over her. “Darling, you must forgive me. I was just so horribly upset. How could I not be when you were making yourself miserable and ill?”

She scrunched into a ball, pulling the blankets around her tighter so she was fully cocooned. “I already said I was sorry.”

He groaned, the sound followed swiftly by his hands tugging at the blankets. “Why are you hiding from me? If you’re trying to punish me there are ways that are much more fun than hiding your pretty face.”

Before Aspen could even consider responding, Astarion was tearing the blankets away, snatching her up into his lap.

“Hey! Let me go!” She tried to escape his grasp, but the blankets tangled around her, making it hard to move, and making it all too easy for him to hold her still.

When it became clear she would not be escaping any time soon she fixed a scowl on him, popping out her bottom lip even as he laughed.

“I did not mean to offend you, my dear.” He snickered as he ran his thumb over her bottom lip. “You’re just always so grouchy when you’re tired.”

She squirmed, but it was of no use, trapped as she was in his arms. Silently she cursed herself, wishing she’d put a little more effort into building up her strength; she could cast spells but she could not even wiggle out of Astarion’s grasp when he teased her.

“You know I’m right.” He spoke in a sing-song tone, melodious and pretty were it not for the fact that he was teasing her. “Trying to wake you up is like racing into battle.”

“That is not true.” It might have been true, just a little. But maybe that meant she just needed to be held for a while, until she was ready to wake.

Her voice cracked as she amended her earlier statement, Astarion watching quietly with a quirked brow. “Well-”

“Well?”

“Maybe I am a little.”

He hummed. “I wonder what wonderfully clever person told you that first, hm?”

“All it means is that you should cuddle me more when I wake up,” she grumbled. “That would make things better.”

“I suppose that’s something I could consider.” He tapped her lip, eyes bright with mischief. “But what’s in it for me?”

“Cuddling with me, of course,” she said. It had meant to be lilting, silly, but her words came out far too breathy and nervous, like even she didn’t believe what she was saying.

Yet Astarion’s smile reminded her of the gentle light of moonbeams, and he kissed her as if she were something fragile, precious. “That is quite the offer. I can’t think of a reason to say no.”

His gaze was mischievous once more when he pulled away, and his eyes narrowed, the gears in his mind whirring. “Although, I can think of something to sweeten the deal.”

“Oh?” Curiosity perched like a cat on her shoulder. “And what could that be?”

“Promising not to attack me with any more projectiles,” he said, eyes flicking to the discarded pillows. “It makes it hard to get dressed.”

Only then did she remember that neither of them were dressed, and were in fact separated only by a few blankets. Her face heated, and she looked away, fingers balling in the fabric of the scratchy, woolen blanket still wrapped around her. “Oh.”

“Don’t act coy on me now, darling.” But he didn’t tease her further, settling her on the bed beside him. “That’s something we can think about after you’re feeling better.”

Aspen watched him as he stood, crossing the room to crack open the door, checking something in the hall.

For the briefest of moments she was convinced he meant to just walk out of the room, nothing but a towel slung around his narrow hips. He leaned forward, the rustle of paper sounding as he picked something up that she could not see.

“Looks like the innkeeper kept her word, and sent up some fresh clothes.” He returned to her side, unwrapping the package bundled in brown paper he’d plucked from outside the room. “Thank goodness. I need the mud thoroughly cleaned from my things before I’m wearing that again.”

“These must be for you.” He unfolded a simple green dress and dark leggings from beneath the packaging and passed them to her. “They look warm, so they should help.”

Despite her protestations, Astarion helped her to dress, although she did make flimsy protestations before he brushed them away, insistent. His fingers were quick, skilled, deftly threading the back of the dress so it hugged her torso snuggly, securing the ribbons at her hips into a perfect bow, straightening the collar.

“There,” he said, nodding, satisfied with his work. “Better already.”

She pulled at the sleeves, the material much softer than the woolen blanket, keeping in the warmth that had soaked into her bones from the bath. “Thank you, my love. Did you want me to help you now?”

“No, absolutely not.” He took her shoulders, steering her back towards the bed. “You sit down. You still look pale as death.”

“No I do not!”

“Trust me, darling, as someone who is dead, your complexion is not that much different from mine.”

She muttered under her breath about what a mother hen he’d become and he snorted.

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” he called, dressing quickly. “Because I’m sure it’s only because you’re tired and not because you’re upset that I am lavishing my attentions on you.”

When he was done he padded over to where their packs had been abandoned, snatching up a book from her bag and handing it to her. “This is the one you’ve been reading most recently, right?”

“It is.” She took the book tentatively, confused. “Why?”

“To keep your mind occupied,” he said with a shrug, fiddling with his sleeves, nose wrinkling. “I’m going to head down to find you some food. I don’t want you to fall asleep while I’m gone.”

“Will you be very long?” The pages fanned out as she flicked through quickly, but her eyes never left Astarion.

Humming, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I won’t be long. Just promise not to fall asleep yet.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Aspen listened to his footsteps as he vanished from the room, wilting a little when she could not hear him any longer. It was hard to keep up her energy, to not give in to the heaviness that made her feel like she’d been cursed to turn slowly to stone.

It felt colder too, everything felt colder. She pulled her sleeves over her fingers, tugged blankets around her shoulders, but the shivers returned, frost spreading through her veins, ice crackling over her bones.

Blowing breath on her fingers, she flipped through the pages of her book, ears straining as she tried to listen to the muffled sounds of the tavern below. Snippets of conversation, echoes of laughter, the clink of plates. She reread the same page over and over, the words blurring together, the page itself turning fuzzy, distracted as she was while trying to listen for Astarion’s voice, searching for him in a crowd she couldn’t see.

Pinching herself was of little use, but still Aspen tried, even as her vision grew bleary, the voices she could pick up seeming to hush. Was it truly growing quieter, or was she falling asleep?

It would be so easy, to just stop fighting her fatigue and let herself slip away, to let her dreams take hold. The pain in her belly was a distant memory, a dull ache in comparison to the weight of her arms, of her head. Surely she could sleep now, and eat later. Surely that would be okay, and Astarion would understand.

Ah, but he’d been insistent, and she didn’t want to upset him. Had she not upset him enough today?

She hadn’t tried to, and yet she had, piercing his heart, provoking his ire.

Aspen didn’t realize that sinking into her mind would make it far too easy for her to begin to doze. As her mind wandered, her eyes fell closed, her body settling in the piles of blankets and pillows she was engulfed in. Yet all she could think of was how she could not fall asleep, not yet, because Astarion had asked her not to until he’d returned.

It was lucky that he returned quickly, her mind already half gone, her worries of upsetting him washing away beneath the ocean of unconsciousness reaching for her.

The click of the door shutting roused her, a savoury aroma filling the room. She lifted her head, trying and failing to open her eyes, not having even realized they’d closed in the first place. “Astarion?”

“Looks like someone didn’t listen,” he chided.

“I didn’t fall asleep!” She forced herself into a sitting position, scrubbing her face until she could keep her eyes open. “See! I’m awake.”

He looked like he didn’t believe her, clicking his tongue as he carried a tray heaped with food towards her. “That’s not what it looked like when I came in.”

She batted her lashes, hoping he would cave to a sweet expression and wouldn’t lecture her again. “Maybe I was dreaming of you.”

His smile was far too knowing, and undoubtedly he did not believe her at all. “Yet if you’d stayed awake you would have seen the real me in only a few minutes.”

“There’s no winning with you,” she grumbled, giving up on her facade. “I didn’t mean to, I did try.”

“I’m sure you did, my darling.” He settled beside her, the tray balanced on his lap. “But now that you’re fully awake, you should eat before you go back to sleep.”

She eyed the tray, curious about what he’d gotten. A bowl of stew with chunks of beef and potatoes and carrots swimming in the thick broth. A hunk of bread leaned against the bowl, the crust soaking up the broth, crumbs scattered over the surface of the stew. A little pie the size of her palm rested on the edge of the tray, beside a pastry she did not recognize, and a small mug of something absolutely steaming.

She lifted the mug first, the smell of cinnamon and cardamom and something sweet wafting over her.

“What is it?” She asked, cupping it in her hands, grateful for the warmth that seeped into her palms.

He shrugged. “I didn’t ask, I just told the innkeeper you needed something warm, and you liked sweet things.” He bared his fangs as he grinned. “Like me.”

She rolled her eyes, setting the mug to the side. “Thank you, love, you really have been so sweet.”

“I’m always sweet,” he drawled. “But only for you.”

“What about those orphans we helped a few weeks ago.”

“I- We-” He could not seem to finish his sentence, mouth opening and closing again. “That was different.”

Reaching for the tray, Aspen couldn’t help but laugh. “If you insist.”

The tray was promptly whisked out of her reach, Astarion shaking his head, a line forming between his brows. “No, no, absolutely not. I don’t trust you not to spill everything everywhere.”

She gaped at him as he lifted the tray higher. “I’m not a baby, I’m not going to spill everything!”

“Aspen.” So rarely did he use her first name that she paused, although she was loath to relax her glower.

“You were very nearly asleep until the moment I walked back in,” he began, lowering the tray until it rested in his lap once more. “And you could barely move your fingers no more than thirty minutes ago.”

Aspen considered pouting, reiterating “I’m not a baby, Astarion.”

“I never said you were, darling.” He lifted a spoonful of stew, brows arched. “But right now I don’t trust you’re strong enough. And I’d rather do it myself.”

She eyed the spoon with trepidation, feeling absurd. Was she not strong enough to take care of herself?

“Darling.” Astarion clicked his tongue, drawing her attention back to him as he spoke. His eyes were wide and pleading, his own expression schooled into a beseeching pout. “We’re supposed to take care of each other, both of us. So let me take care of you.”

A pause, a wrinkle of his nose. “Please.”

All her resistance gave way against him, that tentative ‘please’ a pebble holding together a dam that crumbled without it.

She slouched, giving up. “Alright, since you’re being so insistent.”

Astarion hummed, smug as he brought the spoon to her lips. “I’m so glad you’ve seen reason, my dear. Although, even if you hadn’t I would have convinced you eventually.”

With her mouth full she couldn’t argue with him, and he seemed delighted by her inability to do so. He chattered as she ate, not giving her much of a chance to get a word in edgewise to quarrel as he fed her. About the book he had finished reading, about how they would have to stop at the orphanage again when they headed back towards the city. He even preened, saying how lucky she was to have him, how he adored her so, how he would never help anyone else to eat when they were poorly, on her.

At times though, he would grow soft, his voice gentle as a caress. He would dab a napkin to her cheek or wipe crumbs from her face, his murmurations as delicate as spider’s silk.

“Stay with me, darling,” he would say, trusting her enough to hand her the mug but little else. “You’re doing so well.”

Slowly but surely the final dregs of her embarrassment fell away entirely, and Aspen was content to listen to the ebb and flow of his voice as he talked. She liked the sound of his voice, and whether he was griping about the poor weather and how it would affect his curls or murmuring adulations in her ear, she was happy to listen. Felt herself soothed by the cadence of his voice, the dramatic sighs, the ups and downs as he groused, as he sang his own praises. It did not matter what he said, only that it was he who said it, only that it was his voice that reached her ears.

When she’d eaten the last of the food, flakey bits of the pastry and specks of cherry jam sticking to her lips, Astarion stood to set the tray on the little table in their room before returning. He seemed pleased, leaning forward to wipe the last of the food from her face.

“See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” His thumb brushed her lip, and she took the opportunity to nip him lightly in response.

He chuckled, waiting for her to release his finger before speaking. “Still being unruly, I see. And after everything I’ve done to help.”

“I could have done it myself,” she grumbled. Yet there was no ire in her words, no hard edge to fling at him. It was an empty argument,  a weightless defense, and they both knew it. She could have done it, yes, but it was better that Astarion had helped.

If she were being honest, had he not helped she very likely would have passed out after a few bites, spilling stew and pastries all over herself and the blankets.

He hummed, content to quietly brush off the remaining crumbs from her cheek with a touch so delicate it was like she were made of glass. There was a smirk playing on his lips, and he didn’t bother trying to conceal how smug he was. He didn’t have to respond to her protestation, not when he could see through her as clearly as through glass.

After a few moments of silence, Aspen crumbled, tired of her own obstinance. Astarion had settled his hand on her cheek, stroking the corner of her mouth with his thumb, and she leaned into the touch, savouring the feel of his cool skin against hers.

She was warm enough now that she could feel the slight difference, his body cooler than hers, even as he continued to hold her face. She had him to thank for that, his teasing and patience and love making her feel whole and alive again.

“Astarion?” His brows creased as she said his name, concern flashing in the crimson of his eyes. She covered his hand with hers, hoping to convey that nothing was wrong, that he didn’t have to be worried.

“What is it, love?” His free hand reached up to smooth her bangs, wisps flying up at awkward angles. “Planning to bicker some more?”

She shook her head. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

The bob of his throat was the only indication that she’d surprised him. Not even his eyes widened, and he continued to stroke her cheek gently.

“I’m sorry for being so difficult.” She lowered her eyes, picking at the thread of a blanket. “I have a hard time accepting help from anyone or letting someone take care of me. But I’ve been particularly stubborn and frustrating for you.”

“I-” There was a huff of laughter, followed by a sigh. Both Astarion’s hands cupped her cheeks, tilting her head until their eyes met. “Look at me, darling.”

She did, twisting the fabric of her blanket between her fingers, her heart forgetting to beat as she waited for him to speak.

“I love you,” he said, clear as bells, as birdsong at dawn. His smile was no longer so self-satisfied, yet his lips remained quirked up like a crescent moon. “I love all of you, even when you’re being difficult. And to be clear, you have been extremely difficult. And terribly vexing.”

She wilted a little, despite the humour in his tone. “I’m sorry.”

Astarion clicked his tongue, pinching her cheek until she yelped. “My dear, I wasn’t looking for an apology. I…” He trailed off, softening his hold. “I understand that it can be difficult to accept care. I just hope you understand that I will always be here for you. That I will always take care of you.”

“It’s just that…” How did she find the right words? It upset him when she said she felt like a burden, or that she felt like a bother. But how else could she give the feeling form?

Restless as he usually was, in this moment Astarion seemed to have endless patience. “Just what?”

She chewed on the corner of her lip, forcing the words from her mouth. “I suppose it is just that, I feel like you ought to be the one being taken care of. And I want to take care of you, and I want to make sure you’re happy and comfortable and are never burdened.”

A sharp flash in his eyes told her he hadn’t missed that mention of being burdened, but he let it slide with a drawn out sigh. “As benevolent a desire as that is, have you considered what I want?”

“What do you mean?”

He pinched the curve of her ear, slid his hand up into her hair as he mulled over his response. “What I mean, is that I do want to be tended to by you, and spoiled and lavished with your love and care.” He curled his fingers around the soft baby-hairs at the nape of her neck, the cool touch of his hand making her skin tingle.

“And I want to take care of you too,” he continued, his gaze steady as it held hers. She remembered, not so long ago, how difficult it was for him to hold her gaze as he confessed whatever he was hiding in his heart. 

How he had changed, confident in how he felt, in the bond they shared, able to unveil to her what he felt in his heart without fear.

“I want to lavish you with my love, and spoil you in every way I can.” Some of his smugness returned, a glimmer of self-satisfaction as he lifted his head, cocked it to the side. “I am, after all, quite a generous, adoring lover. And I fully intend to show you just how adoring and generous I can be.”

Aspen giggled, loosening her grip on the blanket. She did not want to cling to a piece of fabric so much as she wanted to cling to him. And when her hands settled on his waist he smiled wider, pleased at how she wanted him.

“There is no one like you, Astarion,” she said, warmed by his words, her thoughts fuzzy, their edges soft. Her heart felt like sunshine danced across it, and her skin tingled like she’d been stretched out on a sun-warmed rock.

“I should hope not,” he scoffed. “I’m one-of-a-kind, darling.”

“You are,” she agreed. She slid her hands up his sides, over his chest, settling them above where his heart beat a slow, nearly indiscernible rhythm. It was little more than a flicker, a flutter of a pulse that she sometimes mistook for the thrum of her own heart.

But she felt it now, a steady, languid pulse beneath her palms. As surely as her whole world was contained in his eyes, she could feel his heart, fighting to give him some semblance of life.

“There is no one like you,” she murmured. The only one who needed to hear her words was him, and his ears were keen enough to pick up even her quietest whispers, attuned to the rise and fall of her voice. “There is no one as sweet, or as beautiful. There is no one who is more dear to me, no one I cherish more.”

He hummed, pleased to receive such compliments.

With one hand remaining on his chest, she lifted the other to his curls, feeling their silken strands between her fingertips. “You outshine the stars, my love. Not even the darkest shadows can hide your light. You make everything infinitely better, even this miserable storm.”

His eyes creased, a tender look filling their depths. His smile was soft as spun sugar, and her teeth ached from it.

“You’re quite gifted at poetry,” he drawled, no hint of mischief in his tone. There was only affection, reverence staining the edges of his words, like she had composed some mythic masterpiece, like she was a muse of poetry and song.

“I’m only telling you how I feel,” she said, softer still. She felt suddenly sheepish, worried she had spoken utter nonsense. “It’s all true, Astarion. You’re my whole world.”

He brought her face close, dropped his own until there was not even breath between them, lips brushing together in a kiss as delicate as the patterns of a snowflake.

There was no heat to this kiss, no desperate hunger, no clash of teeth and tongue. There was only a gentle warmth, the emotions in their hearts needing no words to be conveyed. 

She was so thankful for him, was content to spend the rest of her days at his side. She was sorry for how she had fought against him, and she wanted to accept his love and his care.

And he loved her, all of her, even the frustrating parts, the parts that railed impulsively. He wanted her, wanted to be with her, wanted to love her. And he was thankful for her beside him, for her love.

Each a balm to the other’s soul, each bringing the other’s heart a little serenity.

The kiss had not been feverish or intense, yet Aspen felt breathless all the same as it broke, the air from her lungs stolen as her heart ached from the touch of his lips. He did not draw back very far, leaving only enough space for them both to draw breath, for him to speak.

“How sublime,” he breathed, the sharp tips of his fangs nipping her bottom lip. “That your entire world is someone as wondrous as me.”

She felt his smile against her lips and she laughed, shoulders trembling as he brushed a kiss to her cheek, to her jaw, his lashes tickling her skin.

“You’re so very clever with your words, my love,” he praised. “Perhaps you should write a song about how perfect I am, and about how much you love me.”

She giggled as his teeth found their way to the pulse in her neck, teasing rather than sinking into the flesh. “I could surely write many songs about you.”

“You should,” he said, giving one last nip before drawing away, mischief in his eyes. “I want all of Faerûn to know how it pales in comparison to me.”

“Would you truly want that?” Curiosity got the better of her, and she found herself wondering if he really did want that. If he would like a book of songs dedicated all to him, to everything she loved about him. “What if I waxed poetic about your smile lines? Or the creases at the corners of your eyes? Or how your hair reminds me of moonlight?”

He seemed amused by her inquiry, humming. “Well if it were coming from anyone else I would feel insulted, since there are much nicer things to focus on than my hair or my wrinkles.” He sighed. “I’m supposed to be eternally youthful, anyways.”

“So you wouldn’t like that?”

His brow arched. “Patience, darling. I wasn’t done yet, was I?”

She rolled her eyes, and he gave her a playful pinch in response.

“As I was saying,” he continued, rolling his own eyes skyward. “If it were from someone else, I would not be particularly fond of hearing such things. But from you, my love? They would be the sweetest praise.”

Now it was Aspen’s turn to take his face, cupping it in her hands so she could kiss the tip of his nose, his brow, everywhere she could find until he was laughing.

“I love you, Astarion,” she said against his skin. “I love all of you. I think every part of you is perfect.”

“I should hope so,” he said between breaths. “I am perfect.”

She kissed him again, muttering under her breath that she wished he would just take the compliment, which only made him laugh harder.

“Write me those songs, darling,” he teased. “I can think of no greater compliment.”

“Maybe I will,” she huffed. “An entire book of them. So many that you’ll grow tired of them.”

“Oh, my dear, I could never grow tired of you singing my praises. I love the sound of your voice.” He pried her away, a delicate pink staining his cheeks. “But speaking of tired, I do think it’s time you went to sleep.”

Aspen gaped, shocked he would push her away like that. Had she annoyed him?

“Don’t look at me like that, love,” he sighed, but it was obvious he was amused. “You could barely walk a few hours ago, you kept falling asleep in the bathtub, and you nearly fell asleep again in the few minutes I went to get you something to eat. As much as I enjoy your company, I want you to sleep so you can feel better.”

“But-”

She didn’t even have time to pout before he was cutting her off, his smirk infuriating as he tutted. “No, none of that. You’re tired, and you need your rest, and I am more than happy to oblige in helping you.”

He shrugged, although he looked anything but indifferent, eyes narrowing to knife-sharp slits, lips quirking higher. “Perhaps if you’re good, there will be a reward when you wake.”

“What kind of reward?”

Another shrug, a feigned expression of ambivalence. “I guess you’ll have to go to sleep to find out.”

Grumbling under breath, she pulled her legs up to her chest, glowering at him. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” He stood, waving his hands at the bed. “Now come on. Time for sleep.”

Far quicker than her mind could process, the fatigue she’d been fighting against for so long making it feel like she was watching the world through thick mud, Astarion tugged the sheets and blankets free. Pillows fell to the side and he sighed, leaning down to reorganize them, fluffing them so they were puffy and inviting as they were laid out on the bed.

His brow arched high as his gaze swept back to where she was still curled, unmoving. “Lie down, my love.”

It was hard to resist the siren song of a comfortable bed and warm sheets, even harder to resist the warmth in his eyes, the way he was indulging her. She laid back, head sinking against the pillows, already her eyes falling closed, the last of her energy draining away.

She could hear the rustle of the sheets, feel them sliding over her body, warmth gathering beneath her ribs as she felt Astarion fussing around her. Straightening the blankets, checking the pillows, asking her if she was comfortable.

“I’d be more comfortable if I wasn’t alone in the bed,” she murmured. She tried to force her eyes open, but it was hard, and they were so heavy.

She could hear a snort, his hand ghosting over her cheek. “You can relax, my love. I would never dream of leaving you alone.”

In another moment she felt the mattress shift, Astarion’s weight joining hers on the bed. The blankets shifted, all of his hard work tucking them all so perfectly coming undone as he slid behind her. His arms wrapped around her waist, fingers fanning out over her stomach, his breath tickling the back of her neck. She could smell the rosemary and bergamot lingering on his skin, the floral scent of the soaps and oils he had so generously used. Cold as his body was, she felt warmer, safer.

“How’s this?” He murmured, lips brushing a kiss just behind her ear.

She managed to open her eyes as she twisted around to face him, palm pressed to his cheek as she caught his lips in a kiss. “It’s much better.”

Astarion laughed, warm as mulled wine, bright as starlight. “I know you’re always sleeping with that ratty stuffed bear, but he’s at the bottom of your pack so you’ll just have to make do with me.”

“First of all,” she said, fighting to keep her words from slurring together. “He is not ratty. I restuffed him and sewed up his torn arm. He’s good as new.”

Bemusement lined his face as he raised his brows. “I remember having to undo those stitches and resew him properly. And I remember having to replace his eyes when they fell out.”

“But he’s not ratty!”

“I suppose not anymore,” he conceded, looking on the verge of laughter.

“And second,” she continued, deciding to ignore his efforts to tease her further. She loved that bear, so what if it was a little old? “I’m not ‘making do’ with you. I love you.”

She twisted around until she was lying on her side, facing him. She prodded his chest, huffing. “I love you, and I love holding you and being held by you. How could you say such a thing?” As if he was inferior somehow, as if his arms weren’t where she was happiest, as if she didn’t love to wrap her own arms around him, cradle his head against her chest?

Her response was unexpected, and too late did she realize he had merely been teasing her before, as he blinked at her, eyes wide.

“Sorry,” she ducked her head, cheeks burning. She was so tired she’d completely missed the devilry in his words. He’d merely been joking and she had taken it far too seriously.

Astarion clicked his tongue, brushing hair back from her cheek. “There’s nothing to apologize for, my love.”

He spoke softly, the tenor of his voice spreading through her, wrapping around her ribs like ivy, blooming in her heart. The tension in her body eased, and she looked back up to find him watching her with adoration.

“I will have to keep that in mind,” he murmured, drawing her closer against him. “Since you’re so fond of me holding you, I would never wish to deny you such a pleasure.”

The smell of his perfumes was stronger now, as she buried her face against his chest, sinking into his embrace. “Thank you.”

He didn’t speak for a moment, rubbing patterns into her back. “I would give you the entire world if I could, you know.”

“You already are my entire world,” she said, her words muffled against his shirt. “I only want you.”

The reverberations of his laughter rumbled from his chest, spreading through the valleys of her chest, the caverns of her bones, the sea of her veins. It echoed like a song, unfurling as birdsong did in the open skies.

“Perhaps I need to spoil you like this more often,” he mused, his cold fingers rubbing small circles against the back of her neck. “So I can listen to your praises.”

“I compliment you all the time.” She yawned, her mind beginning to wander. He smelled so nice, and cool as his fingertips were, he was comfortable, and he warmed her heart.

“Yes,” he said, his voice hushed, reverent. “You do. Your heart is generous and sweet.”

“I’m not sure I would go that far.”

He huffed, laughter echoing in the sound. “I would. So you’ll just have to trust me, darling.”

She peeked up at him with bleary eyes, smiling. “I do trust you.”

“Good.” He stroked her cheek, his brow creasing. “Then you won’t mind if I do this more often.”

“Sleeping with me?” She frowned. “Astarion, you sleep with me every night.”

“No.” He rolled his eyes, snorting. “I meant taking care of you, darling. Lavishing you with my affections.” His expression softened, eyes finding hers again. “I find I rather like it.”

“Maybe I should let you.” She nestled closer, a sigh on her lips. “I like it, too.”

He hummed, fingers curling in her hair. “Really? After all your quarreling?” He tugged her hair, the corners of his lips curling up. “What changed your mind?”

“It’s not that I don’t like it,” she grumbled. “Only that I feel like I’m causing trouble, and I feel like I’m making you think you have to take care of me.” His fingers loosened in her hair, slowly combing through the damp strands, and she tipped her head back to look up at him fully. “But it was your sweet words that have convinced me that it’s not as troublesome as I’d thought.”

“It’s not troublesome in the least,” he corrected, giving her an indulgent smile. “And I’m glad I was able to make you see reason. I know that’s not one of your strong suits.”

She gaped, shooting an arm out to pinch him before he could stop her. “I can be reasonable!”

Astarion did not so much as wince, his soft laughter feathering over her brow and her hair, tangling in the strands along with his fingers. “Alright, that’s enough of that. You must sleep now.”

“But I like talking to you.” She was trying to whine, but a yawn was scrabbling its way up her throat, and the words came out garbled and squeaky, earning nothing but more laughter. “Don’t laugh! Don’t laugh at me!”

“My darling,” he cooed, stroking her cheek. “As adorable as that was, and as flattered as I am, I really want you to sleep. I’m not going anywhere, and I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

She wanted to argue further, but another yawn was twisting her face, and she quickly covered her mouth, although that did little to hide it from Astarion.

“Sleep,” he insisted, leaning forward until his lips brushed her ear. “You can think of all those songs you’re going to write about me in your dreams,” he murmured, tucking the blankets around her shoulders. “How does that sound?”

She hummed. “Sounds nice.”

“Then sleep.” He dropped a final kiss to her cheek, before drawing her against his chest once more. “And you can tell me all about it when you wake.”

“Promise?” The words felt heavy as they passed from her lips, but still she had to say them, had to fight her fatigue for one final moment. She tightened her hands in his shirt.

“You’re being incredibly needy, you know.” His teasing words were belied by the softness in his gaze, the way his eyes creased as he ran the pad of his finger over the curve of her ear. “Yes, my darling, I promise. I will be here when you wake, and I will listen to you tell me all about your dreams.”

Aspen nestled close, tucking her head against his chest, the quiet hush of his breath in her hair as his chest rose and fell lulling her mind. With her eyes closed, wrapped in his arms, it was easy to succumb to unconsciousness, lapping at her feet like sun-warmed waves, frothing around her ankles, beckoning her out to sea.

She was nearly fully asleep when she heard his voice again, a caress to her cheek, a delicate trill of fingertips on her skin. “Aspen?”

“Hmmm?” She had forgotten how to speak, how to bring form to her thoughts. There was nothing she could do but hum, a pleasant buzzing in her throat that she hoped he could hear.

“I’d like if you were needy more often. I want to take care of you, my love.”

She tightened her arms around him, pressing her face closer against his chest in answer.

She could rely on him, she could be vulnerable with him. And she could show him how much she truly did need him, how terrible she always wanted him close.

“I love you. I always need you, I always want you.”

Aspen didn’t know if she’d said the words aloud, or if they’d only been echoes in her mind as she was drawn out to sea, but the huff of laughter in her hair brought her back to shore, if only for a moment. She could just make out the words he murmured against the top of her head, the brush of his lips as he punctuated them with one last kiss.

“I love you, too. I will always be here with you.”

And then she was gone, lost beneath the white-capped waves of her mind, dreams of songs dedicated to fanged smiles and bright crimson eyes creasing when they found hers bubbling around her like seafoam. Dreams of a life spent with hands intertwined settling like an anchor in sand, her heart finding safe harbour with her beloved.

[theundyingrose]

Of Sun and Moon

In a infinite universe we only get to see one sun, a star that burns and gives us warmth and hope. Moons come avast but the most beautiful is the one you can reach, but most importantly the one that you can call your own.

"Moon, always shadowing the light and I being your lily. Tell me why I sprouted in your absence." She says gazing out into the stary night, her face faintly lit by the lantern a few feet away. Her beautiful pale skin, her eyes of purple lavender, her soft small lips painted a light red, her long hair red as a apple. All details beaming towards the moon, never losing focus. Every moment of the night spent like this for many days.

She sits hugging her knees and staring out from a dock on the ocean. A place so quiet and long abandoned, a place she considered home. The small crashing waves, the clanking of wood being pushed back and fourth, the only sounds so abundant but yet so calming. It is her place of rest, her place of peace, her place of getaway.

Hours pass, silence calms the night until its broken by footsteps. A man approaches and sits on the dock edge with her, looking up and smiling. "You truly never leave here huh, forever entranced by the moon. You were here the day we met and still return even now" he says trying to engage conversation with her. She looks over at him, his eyes beam a bright blue, his hair  short golden burning flames, his lips black matte. He wears white robes and wings to match, a jagged white halo above his flames, and a large hole in his chest where his heart should be.

She scoffs and returns to facing the stars

"I come here to be left alone, to be away from the world. You turned me into a monster and yet you keep coming back, why?" She asks

He sighs, opens his mouth to speak but hesitates for a few moments "the things I did hurt you yes, but you are no monster. In fact you are better now that I am gone are you not?"

She shakes her head and in a very angered tone responds "not a monster? NOT A MONSTER!?!? Im tearing myself apart because of you, you lit a fire in my heart then ripped it out leaving me feeling cold"

He rubs his chest and nods "okay fine, but you did return the favor"

She gives a sinister grin "you deserved it and you know it"

Time passes and when the sun should be rising it remains missing from the sky, moon still up high not a inch moved.

He stares confused, wondering if it'll ever come up.

She breaks the silence this time "I hate you, I hope you know that"

He chuckles "I can take the hint"

"Killing you brought me solace, the pain still lives on but the joy of you being gone along with your sun is a reminder of it all" she tells him

He looks down, dips his feet in the water and swings them splashing water around. "My death brought you peace with knowing I can never continue on to find happiness ever again didn't it? I loved you, you meant everything to me. Im just sorry that I felt what you did was never enough, you were right in the end. You deserved better lily" he says in a sad tone

She sighs deeply "after everything you did, no apology could ever soothe my soul. The pain, the abandonment, all of it. I lost a major part of myself because of you, I just want it back. I just want to take back my life and you gone" she then waves her hand and he disapates as ash into the wind. Moments later he walks back up and sits down again.

"No matter how much you want to get rid of me, you can't. I made you a promise, you hold onto it even though it pains you. As long as you do I will always be here and I won't go away" he tells her

She turns to him "I will always keep you as a memory, it reminds me of the fantasy I lived. Just like that boy icarus I flew too close to the sun, caught in the illusion of beauty while unaware I was losing my wings" she responds turning back away

He gets up and pulls a envelope out of his robe, placing it down next to her before turning around and getting ready to leave.

"There has to come a time when things end Lilith, I have to say goodbye. You have to let go, you killed me and can't find your own closure. Someday you'll look back and laugh and think of how you killed the sun in the name of love. I Sol died by your hand, my lily.....my Lilith. I did this not you, you can't blame yourself for I am the killer not you" he says before taking in a deep breath and walking forward, his footsteps slowly getting fainter and fainter till silent.

Few more hours pass then she picks up the envelope and opens it, a page containing a poem

Lilith of the sun, Lily of the moon

You gaze at the brightest star at night

Crying at its beautiful sight

Hoping to hold it in your arms

You are entranced by its wonderful charm

Even when its so far away

You want to be with it everyday

She sets the page down and cries, releasing her pain as the sun finally begins to rise. Its rays shining down on her skin and providing her warmth, wrapping around her and hugging her.

"Thank you, for everything in the end" she whispers

[ainyan]

WIP Whenever

Tagged by @actualanxiousswampwitch

Unfortunately, I don't have any recent SWTOR fics to keep the trend going, so I'm afraid it's FFXIV for y'all.

(This is a continuation of this post.)

He was still with her when she awoke, and she could tell by his breathing that he was only dozing. Knowing that the likelihood of her managing to free herself without waking him, she still attempted to squirm out from beneath his arm - and only sighed when it immediately tightened down on her. “Kali,” he whispered, eyes fluttering open. She liked to believe she tried to avoid it - but even to herself she was forced to admit that her attempt to squirm away from his kiss was only half-hearted at best, and she immediately capitulated the moment his mouth closed over hers.

When he felt the last of her tension fade, he rolled until he could come to his hands and knees above her, gazing down. She stared back, her expression a mixture of affection and anxiety. “Are you ready to talk?” he asked gently.

He’s incredibly powerful, even without access to his aether, her conscience reminded her in a voice that sounded a little too much like Ardbert’s. He’s by far the Scion most likely to survive anything Fandaniel can throw at him. He would be the perfect target to aim their ire at, because he would be more likely to survive it.

Yes, she reminded herself - or him - and if anything were to happen to him because of me, I think I’d go mad! Gazing up at him, her heart seized and her eyes burned to think of the light gone from those bright citrine eyes. “Thancred,” she whispered.

Lowering his head, he pressed his forehead briefly to hers, then shifted until he could lay atop her, his head on her breasts, his long, lean body warm and hard. “Don’t shut me out, Kali. I could not bear it. Talk to me.”

Her hands rose of their own accord, tangling in his short silver hair as she gazed up at the ceiling above. Haltingly, she told him of the encounter with Fandaniel, of the Ascian’s words, of her certainty that unlike similar threats, this one had teeth. Finally, drained of words, she closed her eyes and fought against tightening her fingers.

Thancred lay silent for a long moment, then shifted, sliding up her body until he could lay his head next to hers, his arms wrapped loosely around her. “You’re aware,” he said almost conversationally, “that of anyone who might conceivably be in danger from Fandaniel’s threat, I’m the one you need worry about the least?”

She felt a flicker of satisfaction in her mind and grumbled wordlessly at herself - or at him. “I don’t want to risk you…”

“Not your choice,” he replied instantly, tone harsh. “And if you think that if you and I were to end this tomorrow, it would make me less of a target, think again. I cannot be anything but what I am,” he murmured, his voice gentling as he nuzzled against her shoulder. “And what I am is your vanguard - our vanguard.”

She gritted her teeth, then turned into him, meeting his pale gaze. “I could start wielding my gunblade instead, and you could go back to the shadows, be our spy, our rogue.”

He slid his hand along her arm, his fingers light and soothing. “You wouldn’t enjoy that, and neither would I. I will still spy, Kali,” he added as she opened her mouth to protest. “I’m still our spymaster, all told, but Riol is as good as I am at gathering the reports and sorting them, and we’ve half a dozen good scouts plus the shinobi, who put even myself to shame. You don’t need me to skulk in the shadows. You need me to provide a shield from which you can do what you do best - which is not, my darling, tank.”

She couldn’t help the whimper that rose in her throat. “Thancred, do you know what it would do to me were aught to happen to you because of… of this?”

His hand slid from her arm to splay against her spine and draw her closer until she lay pressed body to body with him. “Will you lie there and tell me that you would not be devastated were the same to happen to any of the Scions? To Alisaie?” He watched her wince. “To G’raha? Y’shtola? Urianger? Krile?” he continued, pressing his point. “Will you lie there and tell me that should aught happen to me even without this threat, it would not similarly upset you?”

The thought of losing him, regardless of the cause, sent a spike of pain into her breast that made her flinch back. His arm tightened, preventing her from breaking contact, and his nod was satisfied. “As I suspected. Kali,” he murmured, and the compassion in his voice drew her gaze, “more than any other, I understand the desire to cut one’s self off, to protect one’s self from the potential of harm. We do not live easy lives, and it is easier not to allow anyone close enough to leave a lasting impact.”

“Because that’s what you did,” she said in a small voice.

He nodded slightly. “I tried to,” he agreed. “I succeeded, for a very long time. I even managed to hold most of myself back from Minfilia, from Ryne - although the gods know that you’ve seen how Minfilia’s loss has affected me.” His citrine eyes were sober. “I haven’t held back with you. Not since that night.”

She knew what night he meant. The night they’d gotten a little drunk and released their inhibitions. “Maybe you should have.”

He closed his eyes and shifted until he could rest his cheek against hers. “Perhaps I should have - but I did not, and there is no time left to regret, even were I so inclined.”

His words triggered a memory - or perhaps it was a whisper in her thoughts, a voice that was his and not his, hers and not hers, a piece of them that hoarded their sorrow and rage: Fight, if that’s what you want. Just… don’t squander the time in between. There’s never enough… 

“Gods damn it,” she whispered, and he smiled as he felt her arms come around him and the last of her tension fled as she melted into his embrace. “Gods damn it, Thancred.”

He stroked his hand along her hair and skimmed his lips across her face. She sighed, her breath warm against his lips, then met his mouth with hers and allowed him to drag her under, drowning her in his affectionate embrace.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Tagging, uhm... @starscytheskies, @eorzeashan, @violet-stormbringer, and @briar-ffxiv - and, of course, anyone else who'd like to participate and blame me for the impulse <3

[driftwoodskeleton]

WIP Whenever

was tagged by the wonderful @captastra and fabulous @the-lastcall recently-ish, sorry it's taken me a little while to get it done, i am feeling under the weather again :')

haven't got much on the go right now other than my Ghost fic, the drawing of Terzo, and some test thing im trying for Merryn, my new Warlock in Destiny 2. words and art below the cut:)

Far Away From the Stench of the Heavens:

After a little while more, Aether finally broke the silence, his voice back to normal again.

‘’So, yer Maj, you ever gonna explain to me exactly why you and Mountain decided to have the worlds most intense staring competition back there? Don’t tell me that lanky idiot is the Antichrist, because I will give up on everything if that’s the case.’’

You looked up at him in confusion, delicate features twisted as you tried to work out what he meant. You could hardly tell him that you’d once tried to kill his friend, not after he’d been so very kind to you. But at the same time, the thought of lying burned at your spirit like acid. You decided instead to give him a question of your own. If he told the truth, so would you.

‘’I don’t know. You ever gonna explain what exactly the deal is with you and Omega? Because there’s no way that kind of anger comes just from a stupid joke, none whatsoever.’’

You paused for a second, frowning thoughtfully.

‘’And why would it matter if Mountain was the Antichrist. How would I even know?’’

Aether gave you a strange look, like it was obvious how you would know, which only served to confuse you further.

‘’Alright then, keep your secrets, your Highness. I’m sure you’ll find out mine and Omegas after you’ve been here a little while, gossip is the preferred pastime of so many Siblings here, after all. As for the Antichrist thing, maybe I’m not the best guy to explain that to you. If we have time tonight, I’ll see about taking you to someone who can explain, deal?’’

You nodded, unsurprised by his unwillingness to explain the animosity, but also refusing to judge, seeing as you were doing the exact same thing.

Dead Woman Walking:

Merryn rolled her eyes, an exasperated sigh hissing its way from between those unearthly lips. Devrim shifted from one foot to the other slightly, uncomfortable. It felt like he was seeing something secret, that wasn't meant for the eyes of a mere human. The reluctant Guardian was talking again, tone dripping with fury. Despite his better judgement, Devrim couldn't help but listen.

''You think this is a blessing?? You think that I would ever choose something like this for myself, that I'd choose to be some awful puppet of that damn Traveler?! I don't give a damn how long you were looking for me, I want you to put me back! Go find someone else! I am not playing this fucking game, you worthless bundle of scrap metal!''

The Ghost was saying something in response, trying its best to sooth the furious Awoken, but it didn't seem to be working. In all his years at the Farm and just the EDZ in general, Devrim had never seen anyone react like this to becoming a Guardian. Sure, you got the odd one who was afraid, or confused, but never anyone actively furious to have been brought back. He wondered about the life Merryn had left behind. It must have been special, if she was this angry at losing it.

Though, now that he thought about it, didn't Guardians lose all memories of their pasts when they were brought back? To avoid this kind of thing? Something must have gone wrong then, if she remembered enough to be angry. Very wrong.

Terzo WIP:

mmm so blurry and unfinished. alas, artblock means he will go unfinished for a while yet:')

no pressure tags: @toyapandora @the-laridian @strangefable @purplehairsecretlair and anyone else with anything to share, consider this me tagging you too:)

[casspurrjoybell-28]

The Alpha's Addiction - Chapter 16a

*Warning Adult Content*

Dessert - Part 1 - Cyrus

I walk out of the school building with Koa and his pup, both of whom look eager to be rid of the stares that plague them here.

Many are whispering to each other.

The rumors of us being mates have finally been confirmed.

Koa will most likely not be happy with the pressure this will put on him to conform to my pack's idea of that role but I needed to say it.

I wanted others to know that he is under my protection, so things like what happened just now will not happen again.

"I appreciate you shutting that down," Koa surprises me with the tenderness of his tone, looking up at me gratefully with those big, gorgeous honey eyes of his.

"With my temper, it could've gotten out of hand really fast."

How do I tell him I would not have minded that?

His fiery attitude challenges me on the daily, yet I come back for more every time.

I know I should stop trying.

After he accused me of only desiring his sex, I was wounded,but not so much that I would cease attempting to prove his assumptions of me wrong.

If he only knew that there is so much more to my want for him than mere lust.

Make no mistake, I do lust for him.

It is agony, waking in the night hard and leaking against my undergarments, dreams of my Omega moaning and wanton fresh in my mind.

In some, he is beneath me, legs spread obscenely as he begs for the pleasure I can provide his delectable body.

Other times he is on top, aggressively having his way on my cock as he repeatedly cries out my name.

Stroking myself hard and fast to the images of him my mind provides is the only way to soothe the ever-present ache, the desire of my wolf to claim and knot him so as to mark him as ours.

But that is not all I long for, not even close.

How do I show him that I am not like the Alphas of his past, who wrote him off as disobedient or berated him for standing up for himself?

How do I show him that I can be different?

That I will treasure him, protect him and make it so he or the pup will never want for anything because I have already given it to them.

"Tell me if anything like this happens again when I am not around," I reply, shaking off my never-ending thoughts of my mate.

"No one is allowed to mistreat you or Oliver like that, ever."

He looks unsure of my words as if it's hard for him to accept them.

But then he gives me soft smile, nodding slightly.

The small gesture fills me with warmth.

His depending on me is all I want for the moment.

I know that I cannot push for too much all at once.

I will scare him off if I act too eager.

I look down at Oliver, who walks between us, sniffling as he grasps his mother's hand tightly.

I look up the path, spotting a little stand where various snacks are being sold and an idea comes to mind.

"If it is alright with your Mama, how about we get you a treat to cheer you up?" I ask the little boy, noting how his face lights up.

"R-really?" he asks, lip still trembling slightly.

He turns to Koa, putting on his best begging expression to earn the man's approval.

Koa gives me a pointed look, before rolling his eyes slightly.

"I suppose," he gives in.

A few minutes later, I fondly watch my Omega and his son munching their apples on a stick, the fruits covered in some type of sweet syrup that they both seem to be enjoying thoroughly.

My wolf is pleased as we see our mate's cheeks refill with color, chuffing proudly that we've fed him something he finds tasty.

"We're definitely not used to being spoiled like this," Koa laughs, wiping some of the syrup from Oliver's nose.

"This is your first time having a dessert, isn't it, Oli? Mine too."

Despite how much his laughter and excitement invigorates me, his words pinch at my heart.

No one has ever given him a dessert before?

Or, was he never allowed.

The thought angers me.

How can he think being given such a minuscule thing is the equivalent of being spoiled?

How badly did the Alphas of his past mistreat Omegas for him to distrust me so much or think that being cared for is a luxury?

I cannot ask, nor do I want to remind him of anything painful.

But I remind myself that I must be gentle with him because he is more sensitive and hurt than he lets on.

Eventually, Oliver gets tired and timidly asks if he can ride on my back.

I let him do so, joy overcoming me at the boy's trust in me.

As I look over at Koa, at the approval written across his features, I can barely stop myself from grinning my face off.

"You're good with pups, aren't you?"

I shrug.

"I have always liked taking care of others."

He giggles.

"Pups sure do require a lot of care. Oliver was a nightmare when he was a toddler. It was like every time I looked away he found something dangerous to get up to. I once found him choking on a literal frog. I don't know why he tried to eat it,but it gave me the scare of my life."

Hey," Oliver pouts.

"Don't you hey me. You were a pain in the ass in your creature eating era. I had to keep you tied to my back in a swathe the whole day so you wouldn't run off and traumatize another innocent frog."

"Mama."

I take note that the sugar rush from the candied apple has made my mate much livelier.

It's cute, seeing him banter with the pup like this.

I like hearing him talk about whatever comes to his mind.

I think I just like hearing him talk, in general.

Any sound that comes from those pretty lips enraptures me.

"Was there anyone else able to help, uh, with him?" I absentmindedly ask, instantly regretting it when I see his face drop.

Moon Goddess, I am an imbecile.

"Are you asking if his father was in the picture?" his reply is cold.

"Shhh. Don't talk about dad. He's bad. He's a bad, evil man. You said not to talk about him," Oliver intrudes urgently, shaking his head at his mother, who wears a grim look in response.

"I apologize... I should not have asked that," I try to repair the conversation but it's hopeless.

Koa won't look at me, his shoulders squared and stiff.

"Right," his voice is devoid of emotion and I curse myself for being the reason why.

Yet, a part of me does want to know about Oliver's father.

Jealousy at what might have been between Koa and this other Alpha shoots through me.

Did Koa love him?

Did Oliver's father hurt him?

The thought of this other man so involved in my mates life is unbearable.

If he hurt either of them... the very thought fills me with rage.

We walk the rest of the way in silence.

When we reach the pack house, Oliver is dozing off.

I go to gently let him down from my back at their room door but before I can do so, he murmurs...

"I wish Cyrus was my daddy."

Koa's face goes pale at the words.

He ushers the boy inside, turning back to look at me.

"Thank you for what you did at the school today, truly. But... just know that nothing is changed. Oliver's gone through too much as it is. You getting closer to us... it will only confuse him."

Oh. Yes. I forgot myself again.

"I see," I nod, acting unfazed.

Koa is not mine.

He does not want me.

How did I forget?

[earlgreydream]

doubts.

| loki x reader | fluff |

anon requested. loki kinda degraded sub!reader and she scrunches up all tiny and sobs afterwards because she thought he meant what he said

cw: slightly smutty, slightly angsty

You begged Loki to let you come, fighting against the magical restraints your dom had placed around your wrists and ankles. 

“Oh, you want to come so bad you’re crying? You desperate, pathetic whore. You’re so fucking filthy, have you no shame?” Loki sneered, the words sending arousal pooling deep in your belly, even though you fought against it. Your body jolted at the slap administered to your inner thigh, a pained cry escaping your lips. 

You’d been acting up and testing Loki’s patience, which is what earned you this punishment, your pleasure being dangled in front of you, just out of reach. You’d broken his rules, and he’d had enough of your attitude. 

“Come now before I change my mind,” Loki’s tone was dangerous, and the pressure inside of you shattered. He followed your lead, finishing inside of you before he pulled out and made the restraints vanish. 

As the pleasure wore off, his words echoing in your mind, You desperate, pathetic whore. You’re so fucking filthy, have you no shame?

Loki stood off of the bed, going to run you a hot shower. As soon as he’d stepped away, a sob tore through your chest, your shoulders heaving as you cried. You curled up in a ball, feeling small and alone on his massive bed. 

Loki heard you crying, and he felt like his heart was being ripped out of his chest. He abandoned the shower and ran to your side, kneeling down on the bed. You looked so tiny and fragile, folding in on yourself. His chest ached when he heard your soft sounds and saw the way your hands trembled as you tugged at your hair, trying to self-soothe. He reached out to pull your hands away, wanting to keep you from anxiously tearing the hair from your sensitive head.

“My darling-” his voice cracked when you jerked away from him. You hiccuped on your broken sobs as they wrecked you, emotion flooding every last thought and turning you into a mess. 

Loki’s magic sparked around you, cleaning you up and leaving you both in loose clothing. The green shimmer surrounded you, Loki’s fruitless attempt to touch you without frightening you. It was warm, and seemed to buzz with its own life, but didn’t make you feel any better. 

“My darling, have I hurt you? Tell me whatever is wrong so that I may fix it,” Loki begged, wanting nothing more than to pull you into his arms. 

“Don’t touch me, please,” you tried to catch your breath, wanting to get your keys and leave. 

He sank back, giving you space. His eyes were concerned and sad, and he fought against the urge to pierce into your mind, ripping the truth from you. The door vanished from the wall as you tried to run out, and you whipped around to face the god, who was kneeling on the bed and looking wounded. There was no exit, Loki keeping you contained to the bedroom until your devastation was resolved. 

“Y/N, I won’t let you leave when you’re so upset. You cannot drive safely. If you wish, I can take you anywhere you want to go,” Loki fretted, and though you knew he was right, you only grew more and more upset. 

“Come to me, darling,” Loki opened his arms, the authority in his voice making you comply. You knew this was a fight you couldn’t win. You’d end up in Loki’s arms confessing your pain whether by his will, or your own.

Your sobs broke his heart, and he slowly wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you down into his lap. He held you firmly, and eventually your struggling subsided as you let yourself weep against his chest. 

“Please don’t make me pry the truth out of you,” Loki begged softly into your hair. He didn’t want to add to your pain, he only wanted to fix it. He was very aware that sifting through your mind to take your private thoughts was something that made you feel extremely violated. He wanted you to tell him on your own, but he wouldn’t let you keep such heartbreaking secrets from him. 

“Y-you... did you mean what you said about me? That I was pathetic, and d-desperate and a whore?” You sobbed out, stammering over your words.

“Oh, oh my goodness. My darling, I am so sorry. I never meant any of that. I thought you understood I just said it in the scene... please my love, I adore you more than all of the stars. Never think you are not the most perfect, beautiful, eloquent, and lovely person in my eyes. I love you, I will never say such horrible things again.” Tears flowed freely down Loki’s face. You were startled, unused to seeing raw emotion from him, especially not guilt. It hadn’t occurred to you that the words Loki had spoken were just part of the scene, part of the sex you were having. He wasn’t typically fond of degradation, but he was experimenting in the moment, never expecting it to be received as genuine. 

There was no room for doubt in his words. He meant his love then, and he would spend the rest of his life proving his love to you.

His strong arms cradled you against his body, trying to hold you together.

“I’m so sorry, so sorry,” he breathed apologies like a repetitive prayer.

You listened to his heartbeat, letting the rhythm slow your racing mind. Your sobs eventually subsided, calmed by the steady circles of his hand on your back.

“I forgive you,” your lips moved against the underside of his jaw.

“Please always stop me, tell me then, if anything at all makes you feel even the slightest bit unsafe. I never want you to feel this way again, certainly not at my fault,” Loki begged, and you nodded before burying your face back in him.

“Do you still love me?”

“I love you the most,” you promised.

Loki talked you into staying the night, doting on you to the point you were almost smothered. His magic conjured everything you wanted, even in the back of your thoughts.

“Do you want to go get some?” He asked, and you turned, tilting your head in confusion.

“To Paris. For the macarons.”

“You’re reading my thoughts,” you sighed softly, but a smile graced your expression as you kissed him.

“No, I’m sleepy. Maybe tomorrow?” You asked, and he nodded, sweeping you off your feet and carrying you back to bed.

You situated yourself in his arms, your back against his chest. His larger frame shielded you, wrapping you in safety and warmth. You slept soundly with him, the pain and uncertainty from the afternoon long gone and replaced by his love.

The smell of coffee rose you out of your sleep. Your eyes took a few moments to adjust to the soft light spilling in through the windows, and you sat up, suddenly realizing you weren’t in Loki’s bedroom at his apartment, where you’d fallen asleep.

“Loki?!” You called, and he leaned in the doorway.

“Good morning. I didn’t mean to frighten you. We took a short trip in your sleep. We’re at my Paris flat.”

You smiled, stretching your arms above your head as you yawned. Loki put a coffee in your hands, leaning down and kissing your forehead.

“If I cry will you spoil me more often?” You teased lightly, and he shot you his signature dom look of warning, making you shudder.

“It breaks my heart to see you cry, my darling,” Loki’s tone was apologetic, guilt still left over from the day before. You squeezed his arm as you sipped your coffee.

“I’m okay,” you swore, earning another kiss from your lover.

“Mm. Finish that up and we’ll go to the patisserie down the street.”

“Yes, sir.”

He smiled, happy you were cheered up and back to normal. He moved his fingers and a pretty sundress appeared hanging on the back of the washroom door for you, delicate white flats placed below.

“Dressing me up like your little doll?”

“Careful, or I will dress you, after I get that attitude in line.”

“I love the dress. And I can put it on by myself,” you apologized, pecking his lips before walking to the bathroom.

You returned in the sundress, a white beret adorning your head along with it. You relished in the bright smile Loki rewarded you with. In a shimmer of green, he was dressed in pastels that matched your own. You loved to see him in casual clothes instead of the Asgardian armor he frequently wore, and he indulged you for this small Parisian vacation. 

“You look stunning, my darling.”

Giggles erupted from your lips, making Loki’s heart soften. He dipped his head down to kiss you, making your nose scrunch up in the cutest way that he loved. His long, slender fingers folded with yours, holding your hand as the two of you made your way out of the flat and onto the bustling street. You were thankful for the sunny weather, greatly improving your mood from the rough night in New York’s rain. 

“Feeling better?”

“Much,” you nodded.

“Let’s get some crepes. Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect, Loki.”

The young god pecked your lips before pushing you inside of a patisserie. 

“Salut,” the girl working called to the two of you as the bell clinged on the door.

“Darling, what would you like? We can take some macarons to go,” Loki asked, pointing to the pastries behind the glass.

You chose a few, and Loki rattled off your order in French to the shopkeeper, taking the bag from her and moving you to sit at a table in the corner for your crepes. 

“Can we stay in Paris for a couple of days? Just us, not any of the distractions from New York,” you asked, leaning your head against his shoulder and accepting the bite he fed you. 

“Most certainly.” He kissed the sugar off of your lips before the two of you left for a park with your snacks for later. Loki held your hand as you walked along a low stone wall beside him, your eyes level with the extra height. 

“Y/N, you must know that you are so, so terribly loved.”

You turned and snaked your arms around his neck, looking deep into his crystal blue eyes.

“I do not doubt your love, Loki.”

[wkemeup]

Eclipse

summary: When a mission leaves you empty and broken, Bucky is determined to heal the wounds that linger deeper than the cuts on the surface.  pairing: bucky x reader word count: 8.4k warnings: canon level violence, hurt!reader, PTSD, dissociative episode, nightmares, a rapid switch from sweet/fluffy to pain, angst with a happy ending 

An eclipse finds its home in the darkness Thriving as it suffocates the sun and shadows her light In its passage she lays in wait Waiting— for the moon to give way and grant her morning

Bucky thinks he’s found heaven when he lays with you under the cover of thin, linen sheets; the soft, white of the fabric touching over curves and edges of exposed bodies, peaks and dips, like snowcaps nestled upon the crest of mountaintops. Lying flushed with heat, hearts beating a little faster, breaths a little labored, Bucky reaches out and traces the lines of your face.  

The tip of his finger brushes over your nose, slips down along your jaw, touches the sun kissed stream of light against your cheek as it seeps in through the sheet thrown over your heads. You giggle as he pulls you in for a kiss, chaste and sweet, his hand curling into the hairs at the nape of your neck and he tugs you closer. It’s the most beautiful sound in the world, the way you laugh to his lips, muffled in his kiss but still uncontained.  

Hidden under sheets, shared breaths between you in your own little world, Bucky decides he will be content if he stays here forever.

“I won’t be gone long, you know,” you tell him as you press lightly on his chest, just enough to get draw his attention away from the trail of kisses along your cheekbone and down your jawline. He pouts playfully at you, but you soothe your hand along his shoulder, recognizing the shift in energy as his eyes flicker a shade of hesitancy. “I’ll can handle myself.”

“It’s not that,” he replies quietly, voice soft, barely a whisper, as his smile begins to fall. It’s subtle, but you notice.  

“Then what?”

Bucky shrugs, swallowing back the anxiety that begins to pool deep into his stomach every time you leave on assignment. But he pushes out a smile, one you do not question, and he leans in to kiss the button of your nose.  

“I’ll just miss you, is all.”

You grin and it lights up wide across your face. The cast of sunshine behind you as it filters in through the sheets tossed over your body drapes down like a halo, an illumination of an angel, and Bucky commits the image to memory. Stored to a safe place in the back of his mind for the dark nights alone in this room. He’ll find you those moments, even when you’re miles away.  

“You’re a sap, Bucky Barnes,” you laugh, ruffling his hair as you toss the sheet up from over your faces and take in a deep breath of fresh air. It’s brighter in the room than you realized and you squint your eyes, tucking your face to the crook of Bucky’s neck to shield yourself from the sun.  

“Only for you, sweetheart.” He tries to ignore the bright red flicker of the clock beside you as he crawls out from under the safety of the bedsheets, the fantasy fractured by the reminder of your impending assignment; four weeks in a classified location, entirely on your own.  

A smile presses tight to his lips as you steal a glance back at him full of bright eyes and sunshine.

He does his best to swallow the anxiety though it churns like blades through his stomach.  

***

Bucky paces back and forth in his room, stealing looks at his phone as it sits face up on the bedside table. He taps the screen every few seconds, as soon as it dares to fade to black, so he can see your face again; the picture of you laughing behind an ice cream bar melting down your hand. A shimmering red bow and mouse ears on the top of your head from your trip to Disney last spring. He can still smell the melted vanilla and hardened chocolate when he looks at it and he tries hard to focus on the memory, but he knows it’s an excuse to make sure he doesn’t miss your call.

Tap.

Still nothing.

You’ve been gone over a week now and though he does his best to busy himself with time spent sparring with Sam in the gym, running out along the lake behind the compound, cleaning the kitchen until the stench of bleach burns up to the floor above him, you’re still at the forefront of his mind.  

He knows you’re safe. He knows that you can protect yourself and that you were capable of solo missions long before Bucky came crash-landing into your life, but it doesn’t stop him from worrying. It doesn’t stop the incessant twitching in his hands as he curls them to fists, doesn’t stop the frantic pacing and the wear he drives into the carpet, doesn’t stop the panic that skips the beat of his heart when it’s two minutes past check-in and you haven’t called.  

“Stop it,” he grumbles to himself, “she’s fine. Stop worrying. She’s fine.”

Another glance back at the phone. Tap-tap on the screen until it lights up with your smile. Nothing.  

Three minutes past check-in.  

He has half a mind to track down Fury himself when suddenly, the phone rings.

A ringtone you’d changed early in your relationship - a synthetic, almost electric, instrumental of Can’t Take My Eyes Off You right when the music starts to pick up and the trumpets are blaring and it throws him straight into overdrive.  

Bucky lunges it at, hands fumbling for the phone but it falls to the floor in his hurry. He hits his shoulder against the edge of the nightstand with a loud thump and collapses down to the carpet as the phone bounces down under the bed.  

“God-fuckin’-- ugh!”

He grips tight to the phone by the chime of ‘I love you, baby!’ and quickly brings it to his ear. He’s out of breath but he stills himself, takes a moment before he says anything and he hopes his voice is calmer than the rush in his chest.  

“Hi.”  

You snicker on the other end of the line and he knows in an instant he’s been busted. “Thought I told you not to wait by the phone, Buck.”

“I wasn’t.” A full faced lie. He grimaces as it comes out.  

“Sure, you weren’t,” you drawl, a laugh tucked sweetly into the hum of your voice.  

Bucky can hear floorboards squeaking faintly through the speaker between your breaths. Old wood, the whistle of the wind in the distance; a motel built in the early sixties with poor insulation and cracking foundations. He wonders where you are or if the image of you pacing amongst faded shades of burnt orange and green curtains, of once brightly colored comforters and pealing wallpaper only exists in his imagination.  

“You okay?” he asks first because he needs the confirmation. Despite hearing the even tones in your breath, the sweet laughter in your voice, he needs to hear you say it.  

“Always am, honey,” you respond lightly and Bucky lets himself take in a deep breath before you add, “I miss you though. It’s awfully cold here and I could really use a super soldier to keep me warm.”

It makes him smile; the first one that pushes up into his cheeks without force since you left. God, he misses you.  

“Don’t go calling Steve now, okay?” he teases, the anxiety draining from his body in gentle waves, cast out by the flow of ocean water through his bloodstream in the sound of your voice and the image of your smile as you tug your lower lip between your teeth.  

“Never. I prefer my men one-armed and dangerous.”

Bucky laughs as he sinks down further onto the floor, the carpet rubbing against his tailbone though he doesn’t mind. He’s grinning, listening to the sound of your voice as you tell him about how much you’re craving popcorn and chocolate chip movie nights and he feels like you’re sitting right next to him. He can see the creases in your smile, the lines by your eyes, the faint markings of old scars on your skin. He hears your voice and it reminds him of home.  

“It’s beautiful here, Buck,” you sigh and he wonders if you’re staring out a window to mountains or ocean or tundra. “I wish you could see it.”

“Where is ‘here’ again?”

You giggle and—God—it's the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard, even crackled and broken through the speakers of an old satellite phone miles away. “Nice try, baby.”  

The timer on his watch starts to ding and his heart clenches.  

“Time’s up, huh?” you whine playfully, but he can hear the disappointment in your voice. It’s never long enough, these three minutes that Steve allows for you, but he’ll take seconds if he can get them. Just long enough to calm his nerves, to give you the motivation to keep going on your own, without the possibility of the call being traced.  

“Yeah,” Bucky sighs, clenching at his hand. He brushes closed knuckles against his forehead, presses deep into his temples because he can already feel the pit in his stomach forming again. “Stay safe, alright? Come home to me.”

He pictures your smile, the soft edges and the curve of your lips.  

“Always do, don’t I?”

You do. He knows this.  

But his mind is cruel and it wonders when the day will come when you won’t.

***

“I’ll raise a Kit-Kat,” Bucky concedes nearly two weeks later with a tired huff, tossing a chocolate bar to the center of the table to accompany a handful of M&M’s and mini-Twix. It knocks over Natasha’s carefully constructed tower of Milkyways and she shoots him a warning glare.  

To his right, Sam snickers under his breath, a laugh too confident for a man with a dwindling stash of chocolate in front of him to the mountain sitting beside Natasha. He hides his face behind the fan of cards, but Bucky can still see the crease in his brow, the pinch of lines together at the center that tell him Sam is bluffing. Natasha is as stone cold as he would expect and he has no interest in challenging her resolve, so he decides to weed out Wilson first.  

“When’s your girl getting back, Barnes? Think you might need her around to console you after I obliterate your snack drawer,” Sam taunts, changing the subject abruptly. Another tell of his.

“End of the week, I think,” Bucky replies with a shrug, playing it off casually because he knows Sam is trying to throw him off his game.  

“As if you aren't counting down the seconds.” Natasha scoffs, a smirk pushing at pursed lips.  

“You're an absolute goner for her, you know that don’t you?” Sam says as he pushes a few more M&M’s to the center. Brightly colored pile at the center and he plops one from his own stash into his mouth.  

Bucky, meanwhile, chews on the inside of his cheek, avoiding Sam’s wandering eyes because he knows it’s true. You’ve only been together a little under a year, but he’s spent twice that loving you from a careful distance, just out of fingertip’s reach until he’d come back from a mission with one too many bullet wounds in his body and he couldn’t take the tension between you anymore.  

He could still picture the smile on your face as he told you, the way your eyes lit up and you jumped into his arms; IV drips and wires to machines and all. The press of warm lips to his cheek, his temples, his nose, his mouth. Sun streaming in through the window and casting a halo behind your hair. 

“Yeah, I know.”  

“Atta boy.” Sam nudges Bucky’s arm, grinning wildly.  

They turn to Natasha as she nods in approval before setting her cards down on the table with the kind of look in her eyes that tells Bucky the game was over before it even began. Royal Flush.  

“Not again!” Sam whines, slumping down into his chair.  

“It’s starting to feel cruel playing with the two of you.” Natasha reaches into the center and gathers the mountain of chocolate to drag it towards her towering pile. She starts to unravel a mini-Twix, keeping a taunting eye on Sam as he glares back at her. The chocolate passes behind parted lips and she bites down with a contented hum.  

Sam rolls his eyes. “You owe us drinks, ma’am.” He gestures to his empty glass.

Natasha smirks, conceding easily as she stands to grab their glasses. She turns to Bucky. “You want a refill, Barnes?”

He shrugs. “Yeah, sure.”

As Natasha makes her way back to the kitchen, Sam sneaks a few M&M’s from her pile and quickly plops them into his mouth with a cautious glance over his shoulder. Bucky begins to shuffle the cards and he can feel the burn of Sam’s stare even before he opens his mouth.  

“What do you want, Wilson?”

“When’s Y/n coming back? For real.”

Bucky glances up. Sam’s arms are stretched out along the backs of the empty chairs beside him. He’s relaxed into his position, chewing on the stolen chocolates as he raises an eyebrow.  

“End of the week... like I said.”

Sam leans in closer. “That a question?”

“No,” Bucky retorts shortly, though Sam clearly isn’t buying it. He exhales a tense breath as he bridges the deck. “She’s supposed to call tonight. Longest stretch without a checkpoint since she left.”

Sam nods. “What about the three minute calls?”

“Last one was four days ago. Same day she checked in with Fury.”

“You worried?”

Bucky slices the deck. Shuffles it for the fifth time. Bridge. Repeat. “Course not. I’m sure she’s fine. I’m not worried at all.”

“You sure?” Sam chuckles, leaning back into his chair with another quick grab of a few stray green M&M’s.  

“Fuck off, Wilson.”

That gets Sam laughing. He reaches across the table and snatches the cards out of Bucky’s hands before he can shuffle for a seventh time. He flashes Bucky a smile, dimples into his cheeks and all.  

“I’m dealing this round.”

Bucky nods, letting the tension slip easily from his muscles. He pushes out a smile. “Yeah, okay.”

But then, a glass shatters behind him and Bucky jolts up to his feet.  

“Nat? Are you--”

He freezes in an instant, tension burning through him like marble; the full force of a train straight to his chest and knocking the wind from his body, fracturing the stone to pieces around him.  

Natasha stands just a few paces ahead of him, her hands clasped at her mouth in an array of shock and horror, glass shattered at her feet. Ice along wooden floors and the smell of vodka burning into the air.  

Bucky almost doesn’t recognize you. There’s a slump in your shoulders, a far off look in your eye like you can’t quite focus on what’s in front of you, and a knife in your hand that won’t stop shaking.  

But that’s not the worst of it.  

You’re covered in blood. Deep red seeping into your hair, sticking thick and wet to your face and down your neck; trails of it along your cheeks like raindrops against a windowpane. It soaks into what remains of your suit, ripped and torn, exposed skin stained with grim and dirt. You look like something out of a horror movie.  

“Oh God,” Sam mutters out, pulling Bucky from his trance.  

He wants to sprint, wants to scream for help and sound every alarm he can find, but instead, Bucky only manages broken exhale as he slowly walks towards you. He moves with cautious steps, a hand out towards you defensively, like he’s approaching a frightened animal. It’s what you used to do when the line between him and the Soldier blurred, how you’d seek him out amongst the trauma and distortion and bring him back home.  

“Y/n?” he calls gently and finds his voice rough in his throat.  

You don’t respond, don’t even look at him as he stands within a foot of your reach. Nat and Sam are close behind, but they hold their distance.  

“Sweetheart, what happened?” Bucky asks as evenly as he can manage, eyes glancing down over your body in search of injuries. There’s too much blood and he doesn’t know how much of it is your own. He wants to tug you into his arms, tell you that he’s got you, that you’re safe now, but for the first time since Shuri removed the triggers from his head, he’s afraid to touch you.  

Your lips part, a few short blinks of your lashes, and you mumble out, “I came to find you.”

Your voice doesn’t sound like your own. It’s too flat, too void of emotion, and it rips Bucky right to his core. It’s a defense mechanism, he knows that. You’re still in there somewhere, he just needs to get you through this first.  

“That’s good, sweetheart,” he tells you, trying his luck as he sets a hand on your back. You don’t flinch, but you don’t lean into him either. He shares a worried glance with Sam and Natasha before he turns back to you, pushing out a smile. “You did good.”

“How did she get all the way here from the Hanger without anyone stopping her?” Sam questions, eyes trailing over the mess of blood in your wake, footprints following you from the staircase by the elevator.

“She’s covered in blood and God knows what else,” Natasha whispers back. “They were probably afraid of what might happen if they did.”

Bucky can’t tear his eyes away from you, vision tunneling on the mess of blood rooted in your hair and the stains of red on your face, your chest, your hands. Natasha and Sam’s voices become muffled beside him as he slides his hand down your back and gently lays it over your grip, still shaking as you hold onto the heel of the knife as if your fist had molded to stone around it. The tremors stop as he holds your hand.  

“It’s okay, honey,” he whispers, impossibly soft that not even Nat or Sam hear him, “I need you to give me the knife, alright? You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

It takes a moment, but your grip on the knife slacks. It falls to Bucky’s palm and he gently guides it out of your reach and hands it over to Natasha. He doesn’t know what happened, but he knows what you’ve done for him when the Soldier has taken over his mind, when he didn’t feel like himself and needed reminded who he was, where the ground was solid under his feet.  

He knows what he needs to do.

“Nat,” he starts, but she’s already a step ahead of him.  

“I’ll go find Steve,” she says, like she can read his mind. “I’ll tell him what happened, see what he knows about her assignment that would have led to this.”

Bucky swallows back the bile in his throat and he nods. “Sam--”

“I’ll sweep the jet, see what I can find,” Sam replies quickly. He sets a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, gives it a slight squeeze, and pushed out a tight-lipped smile. He was your friend long before he was Bucky's. The determination reads in his eyes.  

"Thank you,” Bucky whispers.  

Sam and Natasha disappear down the hallway and then, Bucky is left alone with you. He’s suddenly made aware of how harsh your breathing sounds, like you’re gasping in air through a straw. You stare beyond his shoulders, though he can tell you’re not looking at anything at all. You’re existing. It’s all your mind can cope with.  

“Love?” Bucky calls, willing his voice stronger than it is. “Can you come with me?”

You don’t respond. Bucky clenches his jaw and tries again.  

“I’m going to take you to our room, alright?”  

He thinks it’s better not to present you with choices. It never worked well with him when he got this like; too much stimulation. He knows you’ll resist him if you need to. He slips his hand along your back to guide you towards the bedroom and you take a step as he does.  

You’re limping, he notices, as you cross the threshold into the bedroom. He tries to push his mind away from what caused such an injury, what could have possibly happened to result in the amount of blood drenched over you.  

That’s Sam and Natasha’s job. Bucky’s only concern is you right now, in this moment, bringing you home, making you feel safe. He guides you to the bathroom.  

“I’m going to start the water, okay?” Bucky tells you. You used to do the same for him, telling him what you were doing step by step in an effort to orient him. It grounded him back to his reality, brought him down from the plane of existence above his own head.  

The room starts to fill with steam, enough to fog the mirrors, and Bucky tugs his shirt over his head. He removes his sweatpants, but he resolves to leave his boxers on.  

“Sweetheart?”

You look in his direction and Bucky can’t help the wash of relief as it floods through him. You don’t smile and it’s almost as if you’re looking straight through him, but it’s something. Progress.  

He extends a hand to you, waiting patiently. Though you do not take it, you step a take closer to him, then past him as you walk into the shower fully clothed in your tattered suit. Bucky steps in behind and closes the glass door.

There’s enough room inside that he can stand comfortably behind you as you approach the stream of water. You stare at it for a moment before you reach out and let the water fall over your hand. You watch as the water around the drain begins to turn a dark red.  

“I’m going to wash this off. Is that okay, honey?” Bucky reaches steadily for the loofa behind you, though he pauses as he feels the texture of the sponge: exfoliating mesh. It’ll be too much for you in this state. He resolves for the body wash squeezed into his empty palm.  

“You let me know if you need a break.”  

Still, there’s no response.  

Bucky pushes back the burning lump in his throat and gingerly reaches towards you. He places a soap lathered palm against your shoulder and finds your muscles so tense they could have been made of steel or the vibranium seared into his own arm. You stare at his chest as if you could see through to his heart, maybe beyond that to the shower wall behind him, as he begins to peel the dried blood and grim from your skin.  

The water at his feet becomes muddied and red, the water slipping down your legs tainted by the aftermath of violence laid upon your body. He’s careful to only use his flesh hand as he washes you, something softer and kinder than the harsh touch of metal.  

You start to relax the more he works, your rigid stance easing as the blood cleans from your body. Your suit is still plastered to your skin, ripped and torn and cut open, and Bucky knows he needs to get this off of you. There’s blood behind the fabric, seeped behind the open slashes.  

He thinks of the softest clothes he has to dress you in when you’re clean and dry, something too big for your frame that smelled of fresh laundry or maybe the sweatshirt draped over the chair – the one you liked to wear when he was out on missions because it smelled like him. He just wants you to feel safe, to feel warm and protected.  

But he needs to get you out of this suit first.  

He reaches for the zipper at your chest and the next thing he knows, he’s pressed up against the shower wall, his head pulsing at the impact as you grip tight to his wrist. You’re panting, eyes unfocused at the center of his chest.  

He lets you hold him there. He doesn’t try to resist though he knows with his strength he could easily overpower you.  

“Sweetheart, it’s me. It’s Bucky,” he tries, his voice soft against the fall of water behind you. “I’m not going to hurt you, love.”

You don’t move, but your breaths start to come in a little more even. Your grip falters on his wrist though you don’t let go. His heart feels like it’s shattering inside his chest, stray shards embedding themselves into his stomach, his ribs, his lungs.

“Honey, look at me,” he pleads. “You’re safe now. You’re home. Let me take care of you.”

It takes a moment, but your eyes begin to trail up his collarbone, hesitant sweeps along his neck, his jaw, and then – his eyes. The hard resolve upon your features begins to crumble. Your lip quivers, your hand gripped tight around his wrist slacking in the tremors, tears burn into your eyes and Bucky doesn’t waste a moment before he gathers you into his arms, presses you tight to his chest and encases you against him.  

It's like something finally clicks, a floodgate burst open, because you’re clutching onto him like a lifeline. He can feel the sob as it travels up your spine and shakes your body as you cry. He’s grateful for the mist of the shower that hide his own tears as he rubs gentle circles along your back, easing you the best he can. It’s torture seeing you like this and feeling so powerless to help.  

He doesn’t know how long he stands there with you, but eventually, you stop crying. The exhaustion begins to take hold and your legs begin to shake under you, too weak to hold yourself up.  

“I’m going to take your suit off, okay? You’ll be more comfortable without it,” Bucky says, gesturing to the zipper. You follow his gaze in understanding and then, you nod.  

The suit already clings tight to your skin without the added pressure of the sticky residue of blood drenched into the fabric and the soak of water from the shower. He slides the zipper down to your navel and slowly peels what's left of the sleeves off your shoulders.  

There’s cuts and slashes underneath, wounds where blades had cut through your suit and nicked your skin. They’re superficial, better than they could have been if not for the suit taking the brunt of the attack, but they’re still painful to look at.

Bucky helps you step out of the suit and he leaves it in the corner of the shower. He glances at your underwear and you slide it down your hips without question.  

“Can I wash your hair, honey? Please?”

You nod and Bucky works quickly. You’re starting to shiver as the water loses its heat, so you stand a little closer to him, seeking out his warmth. It removes just an ounce of the boulder sitting upon his chest.  

When he’s finished, the water at the drain is clear again. The fresh scars upon your body and the distant look in your eye the only evidence remaining of what happened.  

Bucky reaches around you to turn off the water. He pulls a towel from the rack and begins to gently pat it over your skin until you’re dry. Then, he scrunches out as much of the water as he can from your hair, before he leaves the towel resting on your shoulders to soak up the rest.

“I’ll be right back,” he tells you as he finished drying himself off. “I’m going to go grab some clothes for you.”

He doesn’t even make it a step out of the bathroom before your hand is on his wrist again. He stills, looking back at you. Your eyes fall to the floor.  

Bucky swallows back the burn in his throat as he nods. “Okay. Okay, honey. Can you come with me?”

You nod.  

By the time you’re dressed in a fresh pair of his boxers and the t-shirt he slept in the previous night, you can hardly keep your eyes open. He wonders how long it’s been since you slept, if maybe it was since the evening he spoke to you four days prior. You sway on your feet as Bucky guides you to the bed.  

He lays you down, pulls the covers up to your chest and quickly rushes around to the other side of the bed to crawl in beside you. You come into his arms, curling up against his chest, and Bucky tries to pretend for a moment that this is just another night, that you just returned from a successful mission and there’s a relief in holding you again.

But he can’t shake the crippling dread as it burns into his skin. Even as your breaths fall even and you slack into his arms, Bucky stares up at the ceiling, eyes brimming with tears. He doesn’t sleep at all.  

***

A few hours later, the soft tap of a knock draws Bucky from his trance. He blinks a few times, realizing how long he’d been staring up at the ceiling before he lifts his head and finds Steve peering in through the doorway. There’s a solemn look on his face as his eyes flicker towards you.  

Bucky gently slides out from under you, careful to place a pillow under your arm where you’d been laying upon his chest as not to wake you. The bed rises a little as he stands and he takes a moment to brush the hair from your eyes before he makes his way to the door. When he meets Steve in the hallway, he’s careful to leave the door to the bedroom open a crack, just in case.  

“What did you find?” Bucky asks.

Steve sinks down onto the couch. A hand brushes over his face.  

“That bad?” Bucky can already feel the nausea beginning to take hold.  

“We recovered footage from her last know whereabouts – the safe house in Juno,” Steve says. He leans forward to rest his elbows upon his thighs, staring out into the empty space of the kitchen. He sighs. “She was ambushed, Buck. The feed cut out a few minutes into the fight.”

“Who were they?” Bucky chokes out. His throat is made of sandpaper.  

“We don’t know,” Steve admits, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “Mercenaries, probably. Could have been hired in retaliation against SHEILD. Her mission was to identify the point of contact for an illegal arms distributor that was shipping assault rifles into Canada and carrying them over the border. She wasn’t supposed to see any action, Bucky. It was a surveillance op.”  

Bucky doesn’t realize how tight his hands are clenched until he looks down to find puncture marks in the palm of his right hand from where his nails buried into his skin. He thinks of the woman who left him behind that morning, with sun kissed skin and a smile so sweet it made his heart melt, who has barely spoken in the hours since returning home, who’s bright eyes have dimmed into something empty and lost.  

He’s missing something, he’s sure of it. Maybe if he could just see the footage for himself, identify the bad guys, track them down... maybe he’ll be able to fix this. He could bring you back, make you smile again. Killing those men who hurt you will be a small consolation prize for his efforts.  

Bucky is determined as he stands. “I want to see it.”

“Absolutely not,” Steve shoots back. Bucky doesn’t even need to clarify before Steve puts an end to it. “What purpose will that serve, Buck? You don’t need to see the tape, okay? Just trust me on this. I’ve got everyone we have analyzing that video frame by frame. If there’s anything on it to lead us to those assholes, we’ll find it.”

“I have to do something, Steve. I can’t just sit here. Not with her like that...” Bucky glances back at the door to the bedroom. He can’t muster the energy to conjure the image of you standing before him drenched in blood that was not your own, a vacant look in your eyes as if you could see straight through him.  

“She needs you here,” Steve argues, rising to his feet. “What do you think will happen when she wakes up and I’ve gotta tell her you’ve run off on some vengeance mission? That you’ve left her alone to face this by herself?”

“That’s not what I’m doing—”

“Yes, it is!” Steve clenches his jaw as his voice echoes into the hall. It’s quiet for a moment and they listen for the bed to squeak, for any sign that you’re awake, but they’re only met with silence, Steve relaxes again. He takes a step forward and places his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. It startles him for a moment, but he can feel the tension as it melts in his muscles. “Just be here for her, man. When there’s something to know, I’ll tell you.”

Bucky keeps his stare on the thin crack in the door, the moonlight peering in from the window and seeping out into the hallway. He listens for the even breaths as you sleep soundly for the first time in days and he knows Steve is right. He doesn’t know if he could leave you like this even if Steve handed him the direct files of every man who laid a hand on you.  

“I should get back to her,” Bucky resolves, offering Steve as much of a grateful smile as he can manage. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but Steve understands. 

***

It takes days before Bucky can get you to leave the bedroom. He’s only been able to get a few words out of you here and there, short answers to direct questions, and you can’t hold his eye for very long, but he takes it as improvement.  

It’s the small steps.

He remembers you saying that when he was at his worst, when he could barely get himself out of bed, when he could hardly touch you without fear of breaking you in half, when the guilt tore and ate through him unchallenged.

So, every time you lift you head when he speaks, when you glance in his direction, when you nod in answer of a question, when you curl against his side and seek out his warmth – it matters. It’s more than what you were able to do the day before and that has meaning.  

When you finally do venture out into the living room, Bucky is sure to keep a hand on you at all times. Whether it’s wrapped up tightly in your own, pressed gently to the small of your back, resting against your thigh, over your shoulders – it helps to ground you, remind you that he’s there. You start to drift off into yourself otherwise.  

Meanwhile, everyone else is walking on eggshells around you.  

Tony turns out of the room before he can even step foot into the kitchen when he sees the back of your head over the couch. Peter is constantly shoveling food into his mouth to keep from his usual rambling one-sided conversations. Steve is deceptively quiet, constantly glancing in your direction as if he’s just waiting for something to set you off. Even Natasha keeps her distance, which surprises him. She stays in the room but she keeps to the corners, observing, like Steve.  

Sam, on the other hand, was never one for subtleties.  

“Hey kiddo!” Sam throws himself onto the couch beside you, bowl of popcorn in his hand as it jumps up into the air before landing back safely in the bowl.  

You flinch at the sudden intrusion next you and Bucky all but stares daggers into Sam for startling you. Bucky was trying to keep your environment as calm as possible as not to set you off into one of those dissociative states again. It could take hours just to get you to acknowledge his voice after that and Bucky can only take that so many times before he’ll simply crumble.  

“You know what I’ve been dying to watch?” Sam says aloud, as if someone is listening to him. He shovels a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “Raiders of the Lost Ark.”

“Sam, no.” Bucky warns as he pulls you closer to his side. That movie has far too much violence, even for an eighties film. He doesn’t know how you’ll react to it.  

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Sam shoots back. He settles into the couch beside you, grinning as he turns in your direction. “Come on, Y/n. It’s been ages since we’ve watched Indie. I know the first is your favorite anyway.”  

Bucky is all but ready to clock Sam ten ways to Sunday when you mutter out a quiet, “okay” and Bucky stills completely. It's the first time you’ve even acknowledged anyone besides Bucky since you came home. He stares at Sam with wide eyes, but Sam doesn’t seem to be surprised at all.  

Instead, Sam simply sinks into the cushions, turns on the movie he must have already lined up in the queue, and leans the bowl of popcorn in your direction. 

Indiana Jones starts his first trek into the cave in search of the Golden Idol and you reach your hand into the bowl. A few bites of popcorn within the first minutes of the movie and it’s more than Bucky has been able to get you to eat without coercion in days. A whisper of a smile crosses your face as Sam almost chokes on the handful he shoved into his mouth.  

Sam Wilson might be a massive pain in Bucky’s ass, but he’s a damn good friend. He’s the only one who hasn’t treated you like you’ve lost your mind. He gives you a sense of normalcy when the floor has been pulled out from under you.  

For that, Bucky owes him everything.  

***

Bucky finds out a week later that there are no bad guys to track down, no one to enact vengeance on for the trauma they’d put you through. There is a reason you came home covered in blood and grime with barely more than a few superficial scratches on your body.  

You’d killed them all.  

“Are you sure?” Bucky asks Steve, hands planted firmly on the conference table. The night sky is littered in cloud covered stars beyond the windows, crickets chirping in the distance. Bucky stares down at the mug shots of a dozen men now presumed dead.  

“We’re sure.” Steve slowly reaches out to gather the images, sliding them back into the file and out of sight. “We’re still working on who sent them but it was probably the arms dealer she was sent to identify. Fury’s sending out a team in the morning to bring him in.”

“That’s... that’s good.” Bucky doesn’t have the strength for revenge anymore. He’s grown tired of carrying it in his chest, on his shoulders, weighing him down as if sinking him to the trenches of an ocean.  

“How’s she doing?” Steve asks, gesturing towards the doorway as they begin to walk back to the elevator.  

“Better,” Bucky replies honestly.  

He’s even seen you crack a smile a few times watching movies with Sam in the living room, maybe even heard a breath of laughter when Sam dropped an entire bowl of popcorn and threw a fit about it.  

You’re talking to Bucky more, asking questions, starting brief conversations outside of the necessary ‘yes’ and ‘no’s, humming to yourself as you shower with Bucky standing just a few feet away. It’s something. Small steps.

“She’s strong, Buck. She’ll get through this.”

Bucky takes a deep breath as the elevator doors chime open. He presses the button for his floor. “I know. I just hate seeing her like this in the meantime.” The elevator reaches his floor and he waits as the doors begin to part. “Thanks, Steve. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Steve nods. “You got it, brother.”

Bucky makes his way down the hall from where he’d left you just a few hours earlier. You’d insisted that you’d be alright on your own while he met with Steve. Sam is still sitting on the couch watching Netflix just a few feet outside the bedroom, leaving a blanket of security in Bucky’s absence. He can hear Sam singing along to the theme song as he passes by.  

There’s a ghost of a smile on his face as he approaches the living room, but a sudden, gut wrenching scream stills him in his tracks.  

Sam jumps up from the couch, popcorn spilling to the carpet and Bucky stares back at the cracked door to the bedroom with wide eyes. He exchanges a glance with Sam and as another scream echoes out into the hall in a broken cry, the two of them rush into the room.  

Bucky shoulders his way through the door, breaking the hinges on the top of the frame as he stumbles his way inside. You’re lying on your stomach, arms clutched under the pillow, sweat dampened sheets kicked off down by your feet. You’re whimpering, tear tracks into the pillowcase and your whole body is trembling.  

“Y/n?” Bucky calls as gently as he can, his voice breaking in the effort. He moves closer to the bed, his hand hovering over your shoulder, almost afraid to touch you. “Sweetheart, wake up.”

You cry out again, face contorting in pain as you press your face into the pillow. 

“I should get Cho,” Sam says behind him, starting to inch towards the door, but Bucky barely hears him as he runs into the hallway.  

“Come on, honey,” Bucky tries again. He sinks down to his knees beside the bed. His heart is stammering in his chest. It’s pounding so loudly he’s sure the whole compound can hear it. He feels the tears burn in his eyes as you start to sob. “You’re safe. You’re alright, love. I’m here with you. I’m here, baby.”

Bucky lets his hand ghost over your shoulder and he barely has a chance to react before you jolt upright and there’s a sudden, stinging sensation across his chest. Your eyes are wide, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. It takes a minute before Bucky sees the hilt of the knife gripped tight in your fist.  

“Bucky?” you gasp. “What are you—Oh my God...”  

The knife drops from your hold as your hands clasp against your mouth. It falls at Bucky’s knees. You’re trying to stifle a sob as it threatens to consume you whole and Bucky tries to reach out for you, but you scramble away from him, fearful eyes staring below his collarbone.

Slowly, Bucky follows your gaze to his chest. There he finds that his shirt is torn in a long, pristine cut. Blood begins to soak into the light grey of the fabric from the open wound underneath. The knife you’d held in your hand bares his blood upon the blade.  

“What have I done?!” you cry, shaking your head as you scurry off of the bed and into the corner of the room. You sink to the floor and Bucky shakes himself of his stupor to rush towards you.  

“I’m alright,” he tries to reassure you, though he knows it’s no use. “Baby, I’m fine. It’s nothing. It’ll heal in a few hours. I’m okay.”

“Oh God, Oh God! No... I didn’t-- I didn’t mean to--” Your words are barely distinguishable, slurring together in your slobs, and you can barely catch your breath. You shake your head, fresh tears streaming on your cheeks. “I’m sorry. I’m-- I’m so s-sorry. I didn’t-- I didn’t mean to.”

“I know,” Bucky coos. He can feel the itch of a tear as it passes his jawline. “Honey, I need you to breathe for me. Please, let me hold you. I’m okay. You didn’t hurt me.”

But your eyes are glued to the open sliver of his t-shirt, the blood as it soaks into the cotton, and the slash underneath. It only makes you cry more. Its uncontrollable, like you might pass out if you can’t allow yourself to take in enough air, and Bucky feels like he’s reaching out into a fucking void because there’s nothing he can do for you.  

“Sergeant Barnes,” a stern voice calls suddenly from behind him. Helen Cho stands in the doorway with Sam just beyond her shoulder. She steps into the room, uncapping a syringe. “Hold her down.”  

You’re in hysterics as Bucky pulls you into his arms. You don’t resist as you fall against his chest, but he can feel the unease with which you sit in your own body, like your skin is crawling and you’re caged inside of yourself. He knows the feeling well.  

You barely notice as the needle punctures your neck, heavy head falling to rest against Bucky’s shoulder. He eases his left hand down your spine, hoping the chill of the metal will help soothe you as your breaths become more even and the sobs fall weak and far between.  

“I’ve got you, honey,” he whispers. You start to close your eyes, giving into the sedative. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. Just rest, love. I’ve got you.”

No one relaxes until it’s clear you’re out cold. Sam lets out a heavy sigh from the doorway, slumping into the arch. Helen sinks onto the floor beside Bucky, tossing the syringe into the disposal bag before she rubs a tired hand over her face.  

Bucky feels like he can hardly breathe. He waits until Helen and Sam retire to their own rooms before he allows the lump in his throat to consume him whole, before the tears on his face mirror the watermarked stains on his shirt. He doesn’t move from the floor until sunrise, unwilling to disturb your sleep.  

***

“I don’t know why you haven’t left me yet.”

The words pass your lips and they puncture straight through Bucky’s chest - like a knife embedded through his skin, nicking over bone and tearing through flesh. He feels sick, a wave of nausea crashing through him as he turns to look at you. 

Your eyes are swollen red, lips chewed raw. It only takes a flicker of your gaze to the long faded pink scar across his chest to know what’s on your mind. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Bucky says firmly. 

You shake your head, unconvinced. “I could have killed you.”

“Don’t you go underestimating me, now,” Bucky teases, lighting his voice despite the burning ache he feels in his chest. He smiles at you but you can hardly meet his eye. 

Your legs are swung over the bedside, hands wringing in your lap, reddening the skin. Your breaths are shaken, lower lip trembling, and he knows you’re trying to hold back tears. He can practically feel the lump building in your throat, suffocating you. 

He sighs, sinking down to his knees in front of you. His hands reach out for your own and you flinch at his touch. It takes a moment before you can remind yourself who’s hands are holding you, who’s love you’re surrounded in, and you relax. 

He thinks of the woman who taught him how to love again, who woke him from a decades long nightmare with the sweet touch of her hand and the adoration in her smile. He conjures the image of you he preserved before you left on your last mission, with sun kissed skin and laughter in your chest, as he stares up at the dark circles under your eyes, the frown upon your lips, the aching claws of shame draining you of the light you possessed. 

“Sweetheart, look at me.” He tips a finger under your chin and guides you to meet his eye. He smiles, softening under your gaze. 

“You hold so much space in your heart for compassion and forgiveness,” Bucky eased, stroking his thumbs gently along the backs of your hands. “You never hesitated once to absolve me of my sins as the Winter Soldier. It didn’t matter how may nights I woke up empty, not knowing where or who I was. It didn’t matter how much I thought I was a burden to you and the team, or whether I deemed myself worthy enough to be loved by you. You were patient with me, kind beyond what I ever believed I could deserve. Can you not reserve some of that for yourself, too?”

He watches the sob creep up your spine before it breaks. There’s little more either of you can say and he resides to holding you in his arms, caged protectively against his chest where not even the demons lurking in the back of your mind can find you. 

He knows, eventually, you’ll be okay. You taught him that. Even when the tunnel was its darkest, when he could barely see beyond the tips of his fingers, and the sun was cast over in shadows -- you showed him that as long as he kept walking, he’d find the light again. 

***

“Come on, Y/n, what is the matter with you?”

Bucky hears you grumbling to yourself in the kitchen. He wipes the trail of sweat off his face from his morning run as he approaches the island covered in stray dollops of pancake batter, bottles of maple syrup, and mixing bowls. He smiles as he leans against the counter, waiting for you to notice him.  

“You weren’t supposed to be home yet,” you groan, catching Bucky out of the corner of your eye as you dump a plate full of burnt pancakes into the sink. Your hair a little out of sorts, a bead of sweat dripping down your temple. It’s almost endearing if it wasn’t for how fast your heart was beating. Bucky could hear it down the hall.  

“Missed you.” He shrugs casually, testing a smirk and you started to smile in return; all shy and sweet and full of the woman he adores. He glances to the mess in the kitchen and the smoke piling on the ceiling. “What happened here?”

“Pancakes aren’t my strongest suit.”

Bucky laughs at that. “I can see that.”

You sigh, scratching at the back of your neck. “I just wanted to do something nice for you, Bucky.”

Bucky can feel his heart sinking but he holds the smile to his face. “You do a thousand nice things for me all the time. Just being here is enough for me, sweetheart.”

“You know what I mean,” you say under your breath, eyes falling to the floor by his feet. “After everything I put you through since that awful mission-”

“Hey, hey -- Don’t do that.” Bucky crosses the kitchen and places his hands gingerly on your cheeks, guiding your eyes back to his. “You didn’t do anything wrong; you hear me? You survived. You’re still surviving and I’m just... I’m so proud of you, Y/n.”

You part your lips to say more, to argue against him, but it dies on your tongue as Bucky smiles at you as if you hung the moon and the stars and every damn  

“You don’t need to bring me coffee in the morning,” Bucky says before he presses a kiss to your forehead, “or bribe Stark into making new tech for my arm,” then a kiss to your nose, “or make me burnt pancakes to thank me for loving you through this.”  

He pauses as he pulls back. You’re watching him with an expression somewhere between awe and relief, but it’s the warmth of your smile that does him in completely.  

“We take care of each other, okay? That’s what we do,” Bucky says, leaning in to kiss your lips sweetly until he can feel the smile grow against his mouth. He pulls back, chuckling a bit under his breath. “Besides, I’m the last person who is going to be scared away by trauma.”  

You laugh as you wrap your arms around his waist, pulling yourself closer to his chest. Engulfed in the sweet smell of maple and butter and batter, Bucky feels a wash of calm for the first time since you left on that mission.  

He thinks you may have finally found your way home.  

Thank you so much for reading! ❤️ If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me at my ko-fi account ✨

[blzzrdstryr]

Signed in blood

Yandere!Zhongli x Yaksha!gn!reader

Wordcount: 2541

CW: Yandere themes, mentioned violence and death, unhealthy power dynamics

Long before Liyue’s borders had been established and the harbor bloomed into the prosperous city that it is today, the Geo Lord, Rex Lapis gathered all lesser deities and spirits dwelling in the current nation’s territory and concluded a contract with most of them, ensuring the protection of his country and people. Some of them signed a contract out of fear before archon’s power, some did it for mutual benefit and some out of gratitude and deep reverence. You are in the latter category, a simple forest spirit that was saved from the distorted monsters left after the archon war by his grace and power alone.

It was a simple day when you felt an enormously malicious energy surrounding your green abode, and soon they showed up, killing intent and will of dead archons seeping out of them. You were fast and agile enough to dodge creatures' hits, which couldn't be said about the others. Your fellow spirits and animals with whom you were sharing this forest soon fell victim to the perpetrators' attacks. Dark energy entered and desecrated the lands, poisoned the waters and even possessed the bodies of your old friends.

You were running away, fatigue finally catching up to you, despite the inhuman nature and you soon fell to the ground. There were a myriad of thoughts and feelings reeling inside of you - grief for your now dead friends and home, anger at the monsters and most importantly frustration with yourself. You aren’t human, not a single part of you is, so why were you so weak and helpless, unable to do anything as you left your loved ones for slaughter and massacre?

Guilt and shame washed over you, as you allowed tears to burst free - you were bad, you were disgusting for not doing anything, not helping anyone. Monstrous roars and growls got closer, a promise and a threat of what will happen to you. You closed your eyes, accepting the imminent end and bracing for the upcoming pain. And then the most unexpected thing happened - the earth underneath you vibrated, tremors knocking the beasts off their feet, as a tall basalt pillar rose from the ground.

Soon the stranger appeared, ending the monsters in one swift and elegant slash of his spear. He donned an otherwise simple white attire adorned with golden threads, with a long ponytail showing from the hood, but the most eye-catching details were piercing amber eyes and the glowing patterns all over his body of the same colour. You forgot how to breathe for a second as you watched your unexpected savior - he was beyond handsome, possessing the kind of beauty that would have mortals blushing and stuttering.

He then looked around, finally noticing your sprawled form. “Are you all right?”he asked, his tranquil and calm voice tinted by the shadow of concern and lending his hand. “I am”, you sputtered out and took an outstretched limb, feeling infinitely clumsy and ugly, face heating up from embarrassment. “That is good”, his voice despite still possessing the same serenity took a warmer tone.

As you learned later, you were saved by one of the seven remaining archons, a lord of geo. Filled with shame for your dishonorable escape and gratitude for your unforeseen salvation you signed the tightest contract with Rex Lapis - a blood written pact.

Unlike the contracts mortals establish, a contract between two immortal beings lacks the parchment or ink or a signature, they use magic and techniques that echo directly into their soul, preventing even the possibility of the terms' violation. Blood written pact binds to the vital essences of one, an ancient magic flaring up once the contractor intends to break the agreement, stopping and warning them of what's to come once they do breach it.

Your blood sizzled and boiled as you pledged your life to Liyue, magic singing in your veins and resonating with your soul - Rex Lapis saw the potential in you to be a great warrior and designated you to serve him as one of the yakshas, so you obeyed, training your body and spirit to withstand the endless calamities you no doubt will have to face. One day, after a grueling training you almost gave up, but forced yourself past your limits. I must redeem myself and repay Rex Lapis, you thought, gritting your teeth and taking a battle stance again, and then a miracle happened: a blue glowing orb materialized in the air - a vision bestowed by the hydro archon.

Sometimes you still reminisce about this moment and recite the oath you gave back then - I pledge my life to the protection of the Liyue nation and the will of Geo Archon, Rex Lapis for all the centuries to come.

Soon, you ended your training and started to protect Liyue just like other four adeptis all of whom were also saved by the Geo Lord. For centuries you five defended the nation as it bloomed and grew into something that you couldn't even imagine. And even after centuries of slaughter as your karmic debt started to slowly eat you from inside, slowly, but surely devouring your sanity by the smallest pieces you always found strength to move forward by recalling your first meeting with Rex Lapis, reverence before your God and guilt before the dead driving you further and further.

With time a dull, yet constant pain made its way into your bones. Sometimes it would make your eyes fill with unshed tears, sometimes wake you up in those rare times you slept without nightmares, sometimes it made your hands tremble, almost dropping the weapon in the middle of the battle. You couldn’t suppress and endure it like Xiao does, letting out a pained whimper here and there, yet you still upheld your duty to the Liyue. It almost felt like routine, until two awful events happened: the death and defection.

The fear and hatred of all those who fell victims to your weapons were slowly seeping in your minds, driving you mad with bloodlust. It all happened so quickly: you were watching out for other demons as Bonanus and Pervases were patching up Alatus after the intense battle, while Bosacius looked at the other front, weapons ready, and then Bonanus lashed out, aiming for Xiao's neck. The anemo yaksha quickly darted to the side, but the weapon still grazed the copper bird's neck, his blood forming a quickly growing pool underneath. You had to put the bloodlusted yaksha yourself, something inside of you breaking as you did so - it was one thing to stand against hordes of demons and monsters and it was another to kill your friend.

You couldn’t talk or look into the eyes of the other two after that, despising yourself for yet another failure - first your forest, then your friends, you were helpless to save anyone. And then Bosacius left, you had no idea where he vanished, but these two events prompted Rex Lapis to visit both you and Xiao, as yakshas shrinked in numbers from five to two in less than a week.

You kneel before the Geo archon when you notice his tall figure between the ancient trees - unlike Xiao, you prefer to live in the woods, the familiarity of nature reminiscent of a home you once lost. Your Lord ushers you to stand up, his face solemn and grim.

“[First]”, he starts, exhaustion evident in each syllable: "For centuries you protected my Harbor, and despite turbulent times passing you still uphold your duty. I find that admirable".

Your eyes go wide and you turn your head, unable to receive such high praise from your God, you feel your cheeks heat up at the compliment, acknowledgement of your hard work, and even constant pain or the death and disappearance of your colleagues became less serious of the issue for a mere moment.

"I am not worthy of such praise, my lord, I am only doing my job, fulfilling the contract", you deflect, looking at him again. Archon's eyes crease a little and a small frown appears as you say "contract", yet he quickly wills his face into an impassive mask.

"I suppose I made a mistake when I asked you to be my yaksha back then, I have misjudged your worth ", he continues, voice becoming distant and strangely tense, as he reminisces about the days long past, amber eyes looking both at and through you.

"My lord, I…", you start and then stumble over the words, unsure what to say next. Is this his way of telling you that you're bad at your job? You cast your head down, eyes lowered in shame, hands that spilled adeptus' blood trembling and burning. "I am deeply sorry for letting you down in that way, I will do my best to redeem myself from now on” .

A warm hand touches your shoulder, squeezing it slightly in a comforting manner. His palm is warm and firm, comforting in its steadiness like a tall cliff standing proudly against the raging tides, indestructible and reliable.

"You have no reason to apologize for this. Something like this would inevitably happen sooner or later, you have no fault in the events that occured. I suppose karmic debt would drive one of you insane eventually".

He sounds calming, reassuring, like a parent soothing a child. You still don’t lift your head to meet his gaze - you’re too guilty and unworthy to do that. There are no words you can speak now, not when you have been so thoroughly destroyed by your lord’s kindness - how can he look at you and see someone innocent?

“No, I meant that all those centuries ago, when I first met you I didn’t discern the gem hidden in the crude ore” he adopts reminiscent tone again, his hand now moving on your shoulder in slow and steady rhythm: “I knew I wanted you to be by my side, I didn’t know who I wanted you to be though. I needed time to understand my own feelings and the way I viewed you, and then I needed some more time to accept those sentiments”.

“What sentiments, my lord?”, you ask, finally looking up to him, brows slightly frowned in confusion and curiosity - it’s rare to see the Geo archon talk about his inner workings so openly, as he usually prefers to keep a cordial distance or masterfully redirects the conversation into a completely different direction.

“Over the years, as you protected my nation and my people, I finally understood it”, his hand shifts from your shoulder and now he cups your own two palms in a firm yet gentle hold: “I cherish you, [First]”.

The sudden declaration leaves you stunned and speechless for a good minute: you look at your god with wide eyes, mouth opening several times like a fish out of water. A myriad of thoughts and feelings go through you: confusion, disbelief, inferiority.

“I… That is very sudden for me to… learn about your affections”, you finally utter, forgetting to add respectful “my lord” at the end. Your voice comes off as small and hesitant as you say so. Rex Lapis doesn’t seem to mind your confusion as he takes a second to collect his own thoughts.

“The yaksha title I have burdened you with takes a toll both on your mind and your body. I severely miscalculated, so I want to redeem this mistake”, he sounds regretful now, one hand moving to caress and cup your face. You go stiff, still overwhelmed by the whole conversation. “I can free you from your contract if you decide to become my life companion”.

“But, my lord, it’s so sudden I can’t just..”

“Hush, I won’t pressure you into an intimate relationship right away. No, we will wait and learn about each other and once you will be comfortable enough to let me enter your life and your heart we will marry, uniting our fates with a contract that shall never end”.

You lower your head again, but this time in contemplation instead of guilt and shame. What do you feel for Rex Lapis? Admiration - he is a powerful deity, capable enough to flatten mountains and raise new ones with a single slash of his spear. Gratitude - he was the one that saved you and sheltered you, until you grew strong enough, he gave you a reason to live when you had none. Respect - he is a capable leader, smart enough to build a foundation and guide people of the most magnificent nation in Teyvat.

You feel no love for him, not the kind of love he wants anyway. You know about his patience and how affections sometimes take years to finally mature and bloom, but the thought of spending decades, maybe even centuries in hopes that one day you will reciprocate is nauseating to you.

How do you feel about it? A part of you wants it - it’s an easy way out to get rid of the pain, of the fear and bloodshed, of the death that clings to you at every waking moment. You remember how you spend most of your nights sleepless, drowsiness leaving you the same second you dream of blood and carnage and massacre. You remember your whole body throbbing and burning on especially bad days, when even Remedium Tertiorum can’t do its job. You remember crying and gasping for air after the weight of the slaughtered gets too heavy for you to handle.

You almost say yes, out of these reasons alone, but you stop yourself - you think of Xiao, of how lonely he will become once you leave. You think of heartfelt smiles that mortals gift you with on those rare occasions you have to save them. You think of the slaughtered spirits before whom you still have to atone to.

“I am sorry, my lord” You look him straight in the eyes, bracing yourself for the words you are about to say: “I can’t match your feelings, nor can I accept your offer, not now at least”.

Amber eyes lose their warmth in the instance, the comforting aura he was exuding earlier replaced by the weird tension between you two. Looking at this image, you suddenly remember how ruthless Rex Lapis can be on the battlefield as for a fraction of the second he looks at you as you’re an enemy.

A horrible pain shoots right through your body, and your short scream follows. You fall on the floor, gasping for air, deaf and blind from the overwhelming pain. Geo archon quickly takes your form, carrying you to your sleeping place, as you try your best to breathe and not cry.

“It must be a blood pact acting up, the magic must have taken your refusal as disobedience to the contract”, he says once the agony lightens, enough for you to focus on the conversation, “you did pledge your life to my will”.

You try to half sit on your elbow, to look him in the eyes and say something other than the pained groans and whimpers, as his next words instill a sense of quiet dread in you:

“I hope you will rethink and take back your words out of your own volition, [First]. I would hate to order you to”.

[beccascribbles]

It angst time bby!🤪 Could you maybe pls do a Iwa,Tendou and Tsuki x reader/manager scenario where their s/o gets bullied because they are the manager of the team. Also it goes that far that the girls threaten them to leave the vb club/ end their relationship bevor it will be much worse for them. ( a fluffy end would be nice because I saw lots of angsty fics today kndjsjsna)

a/n - you asked and i shall deliver. sometimes we just have a craving for angst. i’m a little bit obsessed with it myself (think a large part of my blog is angst tbh). and don’t worry, they are fluffy endings i think... hope you enjoy!

"i can't do this anymore," you sobbed, finally letting the tears fall. iwaizumi reached out for you desperately, hand curling around your waist and pulling you into his chest. his arm, corded with muscle, wrapped around your waist protectively, holding you close to him. his other hand held the back of your head. “i can’t, haji. they won’t stop. it won’t stop.”

“shh,” he murmured, stroking the back of your head as your tears dampened his shirt. part of him was confused, the other part focused entirely on offering you support. he had no idea who this mysterious they was. it wasn’t surprising that he didn’t know, the girls choosing moments when iwaizumi (and anyone who might inform him of what was happening) was gone to be their cruellest. “who’s they?”

you stiffened slightly against him then, mind pulling their most recent assault to the forefront of your mind. taloned fingernails had dug into your shoulders before pushing you harshly, your back hitting the brick wall behind you harshly. rough brick had dug into your back, the pain not enough to distract you from the words they spat at you. you had flinched away, looked for an escape, but there was nowhere to go. one girl, clearly the ringleader, had yanked at your hair, pulling your face towards her.

“you stupid little whore,” she had hissed, letting out a cold laugh at the wince that escaped your lips. “if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stop managing the team and leave iwaizumi while you’re at it. you don’t deserve him and he sure as hell doesn’t need you.”

her words had been echoed by the other girls with her, and when the tears had finally began to prick at your eyes, they had decided their needs had been satisfied for today. she had turned back to look at you one last time before leaving you with her parting words. “remember what i said. if you want it to stop, you know what to do.”

“y/n?” iwaizumi questioned, his voice cutting through the memory. worry laced his tone, and he had pulled you away from his chest to be able to see your face. you blinked up at him, a dreadful realisation coming over you. you knew how to make it stop. it was simple. you just had to force out the words.

the texture of his skin was rough against yours, his hands calloused from a childhood spent playing volleyball. you wanted to surrender to his warmth, to downplay everything you were feeling, to blame it on some simple reason such as school, anything to be with him for just a little longer. but you couldn’t. it needed to be done.

“i want to break up,” you said, forcing the words out, fresh tears beginning to fall from your eyes. the weight you had expected to be lifted was not. instead, remorse crushed you. for a moment, you struggled to breath, the air trapped in your throat. it was only iwaizumi’s gentle nudging, the way he guided you through your breathing, that helped you regain a semblance of calm.

“no you don’t,” he said calmly, seeing right through you. there was never any point in lying to him. he could see right through any lies that slipped from your lips. “i also won’t let you.”

your eyes widened in fear, her face flashing to life in your brain. your scalped tingled in remembrance of the way she had yanked your hair. suddenly, you began to shake, wrapping your arms around yourself. you let out a wretched sob. “hajime... please.”

“no,” he said, rubbing your arm soothingly in an attempt to calm you. “you need to tell me what the fuck is going on. no hiding from me. we’re sorting this out and i’m going to find out who put such stupid ideas into your head and they’re going to pay.”

you shook your head weakly, but his hands were quick to stop your movements, thumb reaching out to brush away the tears collecting in the corner of your eye. he leant forward, resting his forehead against yours. “we’re sorting this out, okay?”

“okay.”

really, you should’ve known he would understand. you should have known that of anyone who would understand how helpless you were feeling, how truly you believed leaving the team was your only escape from their torment, was tendou. he had opened up to you, told you about his childhood, his experience with bullies. yet, you couldn’t open up to him, couldn’t tell him what was happening to you.

“why weren’t you at practice today?” questioned tendou, the first words out of his mouth when you opened your dorm room to him. the second thing he did was press a kiss to your lips, his hands going up to hold your face tenderly. “you’re not sick, are you? i hope not, otherwise i shouldn’t have kissed you. i guess we can be ill together though.”

“i quit,” you said, moving away from him and collapsing onto your bed, picking up the magazine you had discarded moments before. you opened it, using it as a shield to protect you from tendou’s gaze. his eyes narrowed as he looked at you. 

“why would you do that?” he asked, moving over to the bed and sitting opposite you, reaching over to remove the magazine from in front of your face. you let out a grumble, though did little to actually resist.

“i didn’t feel like doing it anymore,” you lied, studying the wall behind him. it was painfully obvious you were avoiding his gaze, just further proof that you were lying to him. “it wasn’t fun anymore. besides, i need to focus on school.”

“tut tut,” he admonished, waggling his finger at you. him reprimanding you caused a small smile to tug at your lips, one that quickly vanished when he persisted. “why would you really quit?”

you crossed your arms over your chest, physically turning your body away from him. the quiet rejection did little to discourage him. instead, he reached for your hand.

“i saw you with some girls yesterday,” he admitted, taking careful note of the way your whole body suddenly stiffened. he chose his next words carefully, not wanting you to pull away, to refuse to confirm the suspicions he already had. “you looked upset. are you okay now?”

it was at those words that you finally turned to look at him, fresh tears making your eyes seem to shimmer. it was an oddly beautiful sight, mused tendou, reaching out with care to brush a finger along your jaw. sudden anger twisted your features, shattering the illusion and causing him to jerk his hand away.

“of course i’m not fucking okay,” you spat, yanking your hand from his landing a solid hit the mattress you were both sitting on. “it’s fucking pathetic that i let them have their way just because i was scared.”

you pushed up from the bed, turning around wildly, looking for something, anything, that would ease the emotions currently rushing through you. they were hard to distinguish, coming together to leave you craving for a release. tendou stood up to join you, holding his hands out in front of him.

“punch me,” he stated, stance adjusting so he was properly balanced. you didn’t even question it, balling your hands into fists and launching a fist into his palm. the crack of skin on skin echoed around the room, and you felt the release. he praised you, “solid hit. need to go again?”

you shook your head, stepping forward and leaning your head against his chest, fingers curling into the flimsy material of his shirt. his arms wrapped around you, holding you tight.

“what am i going to do?” you sighed. tendou shuffled backwards, pulling you along with him until he was sat on the bed, your legs either side of his own as you sat on his lap. he took your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your face up to look at him.

“you’re going to re-join the team,” he explained, before a smirk twisted his features, “and i’m going to enlist some help to go and confront some bullies.”

he doesn’t say anything to you, doesn’t really do much to acknowledge the tears rolling down your cheeks other than to wrap his arm around your shoulder. you are tugged into his lean body, and are quick to turn your head into his chest to hide your tears from view. admittedly, it was a bit late at this point, the majority of the team having already passed you on their way into the gym. you had simply waved away their concerns, not thinking you could find the words to explain, to tell them you were leaving.

“so,” mused tsukishima, letting your bury your face into his chest, your hands clutching onto the material of his top. ordinarily, he would have told you to stop stretching the fabric. however, you had been off for a couple of days, more withdrawn, and he figured he was close to finding out the reason why. “what happened?”

you let out a stifle, finally looking up at him with red-rimmed eyes. “i left the team.”

“that doesn’t really answer my question though, does it?” he prodded. something told you he had an inclination at the cause behind it. there was no solid evidence to prove his suspicions, however. all he could go off was the look of trepidation in your eyes, the way you body would tense when certain people approached.

you shook your head, fists clenching tighter. he let out a soft sigh, his other arm coming around your body to hold you more securely against his chest. he reprimanded you softly, “you could have told me, or at least someone else on the team if you didn’t want me to know. i wouldn’t think any less of you because you’re being bullied.”

“they said it would get worse if i told anyone, if i didn’t do what they said,” you hiccupped, relaxing in his firm hold, soothed by the steady rise and fall of his chest.

“y/n,” he sighed, tilting his head down to look at you, “they’re just pathetic nobodies who are jealous of you. do you honestly think they could actually hurt you more if you told someone? i’d like to see them try.”

his hold brought you comfort, and you found yourself calming down. he released you, reaching down to take your hand and give it a reassuring squeeze, dropping a kiss to the top of your head in the process. as he walked back with you towards the gym, he murmured darkly, “i might just give them a small taste of their own medicine.”

“kei,” you warned, hand tightening on his, “don’t.”

“i’m still going to talk to them.”

“you don’t even know who they are.”

“i can guess, or you can tell me.”

you just shook your head, his words bringing a distraction from the emotions still just beneath the surface just as he knew they would.

[shotowoki]

PAIRING: shouto todoroki x fem!reader

WARNINGS: smut, oral (female receiving), it’s pretty much just vanilla sex if i’m honest, aged-up, first time

WORDCOUNT: 2.8k

SYNOPSIS:

You had been dating Todoroki for a while now. And yet, you still hadn't taken things to the next level with him. Perhaps you were nervous, or maybe it was fear. After all, this was all new to you. What would it be like to lose your virginity to Todoroki, you wondered?  

Once again, you were back at the same spot as always. Your lips melting against Shouto's, his tongue gliding tenderly across yours. Even kisses like these had you feverish. From the gentle peck's he left along the nape of your neck to the more desperate ones. You were constantly left a nervous mess. Always getting lost in the way his plump lips came down in an open mouth kiss, capturing your lips one at a time before giving one a delicate tug.

And don't even get started on the way his hands felt in moments like these. His careful slender fingers caressing every inch of you. Gently, he would slip his hand from the small of your back to your thighs, resting himself there. Squeezing so slowly and lightly it felt almost as though he was teasing you each time. Without a doubt, you would feel goosebumps rise across your skin when his hand crept higher up your thighs, his fingers edging closer to your heat. And he would be so close, so close to touching you where you needed him most, but you could never go on. The knot in your stomach suddenly tightening as anxiety buried your body. Heart-thumping, you would lash out your hand to clutch his wrist, halting him in his tracks.

"Not ready, love?" is all he would say each time before gradually moving away, planting one last kiss on your lips.

It was the same each time, and it frustrated you beyond belief. Why couldn't you go on? Why did you feel so nervous? You knew you liked him, and you knew you were ready for him, so why? All these questions and you just couldn't find the answer.

And a new day would start.

Sweetly, you were awoken by the warm rays that peeked through your curtains, the golden hue painting your shared room with Shouto. You yawned softly as you shifted to your side, your boyfriend's face meeting yours as he slept. His eyelashes gently brushed against his cheeks as he snored through parted lips. You admired him in his peaceful state, cheeks slightly flushed, and his hair messily draped his eyes. Everything about him was so perfect.

You figured you should get out of bed, let him rest for a bit longer. As you slipped from under the sheets, you felt those familiar hands wrap around your waist, soliciting you to stay.

"Morning, sleepyhead." You giggled as you turned to look at him once more. But his only response was a hum as he relaxed his head against your back. His breath dripped down your neck, and his lips lazily grazed your soft skin. Suddenly, you felt yourself feeling hot still not accustomed to his touch.

His yawn filled your hearing and he tugged you back towards himself. "Can we just stay like this for a bit?" He mumbled into your ear lowly.

And you did just that, sinking into his embrace. His arms engirdled you, hands sneaking up your shirt where they relaxed. The way his chilled fingers brushed up and down your stomach had you feeling faint. You could feel his body heat across yours as he pressed himself against you. After all this time, he somehow always had an effect on you.

"Did you sleep well, y/n?" He whispered, his lips tickling your neck as he spoke.

"Um... yeah! I slept well. I'm sorry about yesterday, by the way. I just get too nervous to continue." You confessed, feeling a sting of embarrassment as you began reminiscing on last night.

You were referencing the night you tapped out of taking things further, again.

"Don't apologize for silly things like that, darling" You could feel his smile as he spoke. "We have all the time in the world. Don't rush yourself, okay?"

Carefully, he wrapped his fingers around your wrist, lifting your arm slowly and placing it back down until he had you pinned. Your back faced the mattress as your head laid trapped between his arms. Heterochromatic eyes wandered around your face, and a tender smile plastered itself across his lips.

"I'm not rushing myself, I promise. I am ready, but my nerves always get the best of me."

With that, Shouto lowered himself, his face inches away from yours. "Do I make you nervous, darling?" A foreign teasing tone laced his voice.

You felt your breath catch in your throat as you fluttered your eyes back at him. Both of you knew the answer to that question, and you were definitely not going to humiliate yourself further to admit to that fact.

"I'll take that as a yes, then."

Cushiony lips met yours in an instant. Though it happened fast, Shouto's careful demeanor didn't waver. As his lips danced against yours, the familiar sensation began to sweep over you; body hot and adrenaline pumping.

He kissed you deeper, tongue coasting against your bottom lip, asking for permission. You didn't hesitate to grant his request, opening up immediately as you drove your hands up his chest. Under your palm, you felt the subtle drumming of his heart. It was oddly soothing to know you weren't the only one nervous. Maybe it was normal to feel slightly shy in moments like these?

His tongue ventured you attentively. With every swirl and flick of his tongue in your mouth, he made shivers trickle down your spine. And you felt woozy all over again. High on the taste of him, you wrapped your fingers into his shirt, pulling him towards yourself.

"Someone's feeling a bit eager this morning," Shouto spoke into the kiss, the corners of his mouth drawing into a faint grin. He was right. You wanted him, and you wanted him bad; fed up with all the times you allowed your nervousness to get in the way of your urges.

Lightly, he pulled away, trailing his lips down your neck. They felt warm as his tongue licked gradually. Shou delicately ensnared your skin between his teeth, nibbling gingerly at what was exposed. Throwing your head back, you couldn't hold back the moans that eluded your lips. Each whine dripped in lust as you felt his merciless lips wander further down your body.

He savored the taste of your silky skin as he explored you. Your sweet fragrance engulfed him; he pushed your shirt up, resuming his embrace. Nose lightly whisking down your stomach before his tongue swept back up. The sounds of your whimpers laced with his name cascaded from your lips. How was it even possible to fall for you more than he already had? Just watching how sensitive and responsive your body was for him had him on cloud nine. Every move his hands made, every stroke of his tongue, and every kiss he settled. Your moans only got breathier, and it made Shouto's head spiral. It was rare that he got to see you in this state, and he knew he was going to imprint this moment into his memory. He was already getting hard at the lude noises that coated your lips.

Those tender fingers of his gradually began kneading you softly, running down your thighs. And the tame fire that burnt at the pit of your stomach was set ablaze. You craved him more than ever, feeling more bothered with every second that passed. In response to the bliss you currently felt, you tried to shut your thighs, get some friction going. Yet, Shouto's body prevented that desire from coming to fruition.

"Princess, are you feeling needy already?" He hoisted his head up, giving you that damn teasing smirk once more. Deep down, however, he was just as desirous as you at this moment, craving to know more of you.

Before you could even respond, he was lowering himself down, peppering your inner thighs in kisses. At this point, you knew you were dripping, a tingly sensation washing over you.

"S-shou... please." You managed to huff out through moans, starving for his attention.

"Please what? Use your words now." His words had you feeling warm all over, embarrassed by his demands. Shouto didn't know why exactly he was teasing you this much; he could barely wait any longer himself. But seeing you flustered under him had him euphoric.

"I'm ready. Just please- you know what I want."

And with that, he obliged, his smooth tongue sweeping up your thigh. Nestling his lips delicately over your core, you flinched under his touch as a whimper parted your lips. Even if it was such a simple action, you still felt overwhelmed by this newfound pleasure.

Shouto didn't waste any time, hooking his finger in your underwear and swiftly tugging them off your frame. You could feel the cool breeze against you as you now lay exposed to him.

"You're beautiful, darling." Your boyfriend spoke in awe at you, admiring your body under him.

"Don't just stare!"

You tossed a hand over your face but Todoroki just chuckled at you, removing your hand from your face. Capturing your lips once more with his.

"Tell me to stop if it's all too much, okay?" Giving him a nod, he took his cue to continue his endeavor.

His slick tongue found its way between your two lips, caressing you up gently where he paused at your clit. Sucking softly, you felt an electric shock overcome your body as he relished in your taste. Dripping in pleasure, you whimpered and moaned his name, hands naturally burying themselves in his hair.

Finally, Shouto got to be lost in your waters, circling his spongy muscle around your clit. The melodious hums he let out as he devoured you delivered vibrations against your pleasure. Body quivering under his touch, Shouto savored the way your legs shivered.

"S-shou, I-I need more." You pleaded through broken gasps.

The best way to describe how you were feeling was almost like you were drunk. Feeling somewhat faint and simultaneously enticed as new sensations encapsulated your being. You've never felt your whole body move in such ways against your control. Even his dainty breaths on you had your stomach caving and your head flinging itself back.

To top all this glory off, at your request Shouto slipped his two chilled fingers in you. Pressing them partially upwards with every thrust. That, combined with his tongue doing wonders on your clit had him pushing all the right buttons. You tugged at his hair and whimpered out for him, eyes rolling back as bliss submerged you. The boiling pot in your stomach's pit overflowing with every calculated move he made. And when his fingers reached slightly deeper in you, it all consumed you. Your breath trembled, and your body twitched as stars overran your vision. A lewd moan streamed out your mouth, and for Shouto, that was everything he wanted to hear.

"Shou-Shou, please... enough."

Beads of sweat trickled down your face as you began catching your breath. Calming down from your climax, you eyed as your boyfriend's flushed face rose from between your thighs, lips coated in only what could be your juices.

"Are you okay, princess?" He spoke in a caring tone, but the way his tongue slipped out to lick off your remains from his lips had you feeling lustful once more.

"I'm more than okay." You responded, pushing a strand of his hair behind his ear, resting your palm on his neck.

His wet lips met yours in a sloppy kiss; you could feel his eagerness as he pressed himself down against you. The bulge in his pants nudged your leg, and you wanted him to unravel himself in you the same way you did. Softly, you pushed his chest, grabbing his attention.

"Want to stop, y/n?" He asked breathily.

"N-no... Shou, I think I'm ready."

"Are you sure?"

He could barely tame the excitement that spiked in him, knowing exactly what was coming next. Yet, he swallowed down his desires, wanting you to be sure that this was what you wanted.

"I'm certain."

"I'll be gentle, okay? Tell me if it hurts." He left a delicate kiss on your forehead before pulling himself up.

You watched as he swiftly removed his boxer. Spreading you apart, he positioned himself at your entrance, rubbing the head of his dick up and down your fold. Breath already getting heavy, you dripped in anticipation for him.

"Ready?" He confirmed once more, earning a nod from you.

With your permission, he pushed the tip in, pausing as he waited for you to adjust to him gradually. The pressure you felt was near unbearable, feeling yourself stretch around his cock. Feeling full already, you couldn't imagine taking any more of him. You whimpered as you screwed your eyes shut, clenching your jaw as you bore the pain.

"I'm sorry if it hurts, y/n." He cupped your cheek, running his thumb across your bottom lip." I promise it won't hurt for much longer."

Once more, he drove more of himself in you, another surge of pain ripping through you. Quiet weeps evaded your mouth, your nails digging into Shouto's forearm. He took the hint, bringing his free hand down to meet your clit; his thumb tenderly rotating around it to drown out the discomfort. It felt better from there as trickles of pleasure rippling through you. Previous whimpers turned to lewd moans in no time, your pussy pulsating around Shouto as the pain gradually faded. And the last bit of him was in you.

He eyed his now submerged cock, letting out low moans as he felt you pulsate around him. But he didn't want to move yet. Instead, he cherished the image of your pretty self wrapped around him, your head tilted back and mouth open as your erotic voice bounced off the walls.

"How are you feeling, princess?" He came down to embrace his lips with yours as you reassured him of how you felt.

"I'm fine now."

"I'll start moving then."

You snaked your hands around his neck, preparing yourself for what was to come next. Haltingly, he began pulling out. Your walls swallowed him back in, however, and he could feel the pull. A gentle moan choked up in his throat at how snug you were.

"Princess, you're so tight." The low giggle that came after his comment made your body burn.

Before he could leave your body fully, he thrust himself back in. The lack of warning in his actions swept a moan out of you. Lust exploded through you as you sucked him back, and it had you almost reaching your climax again. Your eyes already rolled back as his dick stroked your plushy walls with every pump. Rhythmically, his hips met yours, and gradually you felt his pace pick up.

His body glazed in a thin layer of sweat; he peered at you through the hair that draped his eyes. You watched as his chest rose and fell, groaning at the feeling of being inside you. His pretty voice erupted from his throat and dripped down his rosy lips. This was a view one could only dream of, your beautiful boyfriend holding back from melting at your touch.

Louder and louder you both got, your moans flooding the room. No doubt that your climaxes were edging nearer. Every single thrust was hitting the right spot. The veins around his cock brushed every inch of you as you sucked him in deeper. Your body was overcome with warmth, legs bucking as your euphoria crawled closer. The knot in your stomach came undone as you moaned out Shouto's name. Gradually, his thrust got weaker, his own climax fast approaching. The feeling of being faint came as bliss occupied your sense. You twitched at how sensitive you felt, Shouto's cock still brushing past your walls as he road towards his high. Sloppier his pumps got, his moans getting deeper. He held you under himself, and with one sudden thrust, he whimpered into your ear as his cum drooled inside you, painting your velvet walls white.

You lay still for a moment, catching your breaths as you both processed what had occurred. It had finally happened; you both finally took things to the next level. Shouto turned to smile at you, intertwining your fingers together.

"You did amazing!" He said with a faint grin. You didn't even do anything, but you still felt a sense of pride. "I love you so much, y/n."

"I love you too, Shou."

Carefully, he pulled out of you, urging you not to move.

"Stay still. I'll clean us up and run you a bath, yes?" You propped yourself up on your elbows, already feeling the ache between your legs building.

But you still couldn't help but feel all warm inside as you observed your boyfriend run in and out of your room to tend to you.

[thefanficmonster]

An Impostor In Love

Sequel to ‘Love For The Faceless’ (’Body Reveal’)

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing (maybe)

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Rae can’t stay mad at her best friends forever. Them being absolutely adorable doesn’t help her ‘pissed off’ act either. Y/N’s outing Corpse like she’s a human lie detector. Corpse is gushing about her every second word that comes out of his mouth. And the rest of the lobby are getting one hell of a kick out of the Among Us romantic comedy - An Impostor In Love

Requested but, once again, not in a typical way. I honestly wasn’t expecting all the positive feedback I got for Love For The Faceless (Body Reveal). I was star-struck! You guys are so amazing I have no words to describe just how much I love you all! Thank you for everything! This story is for all of you 🥰🥰🥰

“Mr. and Mrs. ‘Totally not dating’ have entered the call!“ Sean announces when I hop into the Discord call to play Among Us with the usual gang. I hear Corpse’s laugh from down the hall, bringing a smile to my face.

We’ve gotten used to playing in this arrangement, a few rooms away from each other, ever since we moved in together - Corpse is in his recording room and I am in our shared bedroom. When one dies, they go in the other’s room to troll them. I’m usually the one dead, but that’s besides the point.

“Hi everyone!“ I say in my typical cheery tone before kicking it done a few notches, making it an octave deeper just to say: “Hi Rae.”

The whole lobby laughs, they all know what I’m trying to do here. Everyone’s aware this is the first time Rae is in the same call and lobby as Corpse and I after you-know-which incident. Sure, I’ve been poking sticks at her, waving a white flag and admitting I was wrong several times by now. Who knew my sweetheart best friend could act so cold? I know it’s a front. I know she’s fighting to stay mad. There’s a ton of pressure on her to finally forgive us, but she’s been holding up better than I would be if I were in her situation.

I honestly felt, and still feel, slightly guilty. I know best friends are supposed to tell each other everything. They are supposed to be the first ones to know whatever’s going on in each other’s lives. And I know I broke one of the main rules of friendships, but the decision wasn’t only mine to make. I’m sure she understands where I’m coming from, she’s just giving me and Corpse a hard time.

“Hello, Y/N.” She replies, her tone strictly formal.

“Progress, people! Progress!“ I say joyously, the smile turning into a grin 

“Don’t worry, babe. We’ll get her eventually.“ Corpse reassures me as he’s done for the past week or two. He knew I wasn’t as unbothered by Rae’s anger towards me as I tried to appear - a pro and simultaneously a con of living with someone: they pick up on everything about you. You become as familiar to them as the back of their hand.

“I know, I know.“ I giggle, “She’ll cave.“

“Yeah, good luck with that.“ Rae has dropped the formal tone, now sounding like a stubborn child which is something I’m way more familiar with. I’ve dealt with her tantrums and childish outbursts - I don’t know which number it is, but it’s somewhere in the rule book of friendships - and I at least the approximate meaning behind it. 

Ken puts an end to our friendly, stick-poking, sorta one-sided banter, ushering us to start the game. We all oblige, muting our mics and getting our heads in the game as though we’re about to enter an actual warzone with upmost stealth.

To my dismay, the screen flashes ‘Crewmate’. I head out of cafeteria to do my task in Weapons, staying weary of anyone within my proximity. Once I’m done, I head on down to Shields and complete my task there as well. I cringe when I’m done, knowing my last three tasks are in Electrical. Like, the fuck kind of luck do I have?

I make my way through the halls, running into Sykkuno and we circle around each other a few times to show we’re safe before we each continue our own way. I enter Electrical and.....oh Felix is dead. And oh lookie who’s right there...

I report the body before the impostor can and we all unmute our mics.

“Found him in Electrical.“ I say nonchalantly, “Didn’t see anyone in there though.“ 

“Anyone sus?“ Sean asks

We say our ‘no’s and ‘I don’t know’s and skip the vote. I’m smirking to myself as I head back down to Electrical. Walking in, I see the same person as before - Rae. I stop dead in my tracks and we just stare at each other for a few seconds before she comes towards me, circling me twice, bumping visors with me and venting out of the room.

“You’re welcome.“ I mumble, smiling widely.

I finish my tasks and leave Electrical just as Corpse enters our bedroom, giving me this tired-parent look like he’s half disappointed and half amused. “You just threw the game, didn’t you? Don’t lie.” He raises his eyebrows, fully adopting his parent role.

I giggle, shaking my head, sending him the briefest of glances before my eyes fixate on the screen in utter shock - Sean just killed me. Oh, for fuck’s sake...

“I was gonna come clean eventually, but I guess they won’t hear it from me now.“ I shrug, lifting my laptop and setting it aside so Corpse can join me on the bed. I snuggle up to him immediately, drawn to him as though he’s a human magnet.

“Who was it?“ He asks me, running his hands through my hair in a soothing manner.

I frown, pulling away from his chest to look him in the eyes, “Wait, how did you know I threw the game if you don’t know who I threw it for?”

He smirks, shrugging, “I didn’t know. You were smiling downright evilly when I came in so I just assumed.” He boops my nose. “And you ratted yourself out.”

I narrow my eyes at him, blowing some air out my nose - a gesture that has become my only way of showing anger towards him. I literally can’t even voice when I’m upset with him cause the grudge lasts like .5 seconds. I let him get away with more than he should.

Seeing as how I can’t argue to his statement, I lean back into his chest and pull out my phone to pass the time while I pretend to give him the silent treatment. Among my notifications is one for Rae’s stream. I smile and tap it, being taken to her YouTube channel and her live stream.

Just when the stream loads, Rae finds my dead body in Storage.

“Oh, nooooooo! Y/N!“ She wines as she goes over to it, “Sean must’ve killed her.” She reports the body and unmutes herself in game, “The body’s in Storage. I was on my way to call an emergency meeting cause I saw Sean vent in Security.”

“WHAT?!“ Sean exclaims in shock, “I didn’t! Rae’s lying. I swear I didn’t! I wasn’t even in Security!“

“Sean has been following me around this whole time. Just saying.“ Ken joins the discussion, throwing even more suspicion on Sean.

“We gotta vote someone.“ Charlie says, “Might as well be the most sus person at the moment.“

The voting results show all the little astronaut icons on Sean except his which is on Rae. Sean gets launched into space and the game continues. Having muted her mic in-game, Rae speaks up: “Y/N has been avenged. No one kills my best friend.”

I’m staring at my phone screen, eyes wide, eyebrows raised, a huge smile on my face. I take a glance at Corpse out of the corner of my eye and see he’s just as pleasantly surprised as I am.

“For those of you asking if I’m still mad at her and Corpse, the answer’s no. Actually, I think I was never mad. I was just in shock and a little hurt that I wasn’t made aware sooner.“ Rae says as she keeps wandering around the map, “Then I realized not talking to my best friend hurt more than the betrayal, you know. The only reason I still pretend is because it’s really funny to see her trying to soften me up.“ She laughs, “But yeah. I don’t know what I’d do without her or Corpse in my life. I love them both and love them even more together. My best friends are dating, I still can’t wrap my brain around that! They are sooo cute, you guys! I wish they posted more content of them together. I’m literally simping over their relationship! But shh, don��t tell em I said that.”

I laugh, overjoyed by what I just heard. I knew she couldn’t still be mad at us. I know she has every right to be, but she’s too sweet to actually hold a grudge against anyone ever.

I suddenly want nothing more than to give her an enormous hug and hold onto her for as long as she’d let me. I just now realize how lonely it feels to have never hugged your best friend because you haven’t hung out together in person. The only reason Rae now knows what I look like is because I sent her a full body picture of myself as one of my sad attempts to get her to start talking to us again. We have never met in person, and that thought kills me. It makes me impatient for this pandemic to end even more than before. 

“Told you there was nothing to worry about.“ Corpse’s arms tighten their hold on my body, pulling me even closer which I didn’t know was possible. The most fulfilling and endearing feeling - being in the arms of a loved one. Being held so close and so tightly that you feel like you’re untouchable. Like you two can’t be hurt by anything in the world as long as you have each other.

“Yeah, you were right.“ I sigh in content, putting my phone down and covering his hands with mine, our rings clinking quietly when they touch.

“As usual...“ he whispers theatrically with his lips against my hair.

I playfully roll my eyes, catching glimpse of the screen showing Rae’s demise. 

“Oh no, they caught her.“ I say, a bit disappointed she didn’t win and more than a bit responsible for her defeat.

I somehow manage to convince myself to get untangled from Corpse’s embrace and join the new round. I hear him groan as I settle my computer in my lap, unmuting my mic.

“See ya, kitten.“ Corpse kisses my temple, standing up.

“Oh my God, you two are too cute.“ Poki says sweetly, having heard what Corpse said to me.

“SIMP!“ Sean and Felix shout in unison causing the whole lobby to laugh. Corpse is as red as Rae’s avatar as he exists our room, running down the hallway.

“Ok, ok, ok. Hold on. I have to address this. I really hadn’t stepped foot in Security, let alone vented in there. Rae why were you lying?“ Sean’s voice cuts through the teasing directed towards Corpse and I.

“While we’re on that topic...“ Felix speaks up as well, making me break out in a nervous sweat, “Y/N, you literally saw Rae kill me, but you said you didn’t see anyone.“ He laughs, “Not gonna lie, I was a bit pissed.“

The call falls silent for about five seconds until Rae and I speak simultaneously.

“I was avenging Y/N.“

“I was helping Rae.“

Silence follows our statements, not for long though, as our friends break out in amused laughter.

“Fuck’s sake, you two make a good team.“ Sean says through genuine laughter which Rae and I soon join him in.

Felix and Sean and the rest of the lobby forgive us for throwing the game from both the crewmate and impostor’s side and we move onto another round. This time I have only one task in Electrical which I leave for last as always. I don’t feel like dying right from the get-go. I start by doing the card swipe in Admin and then the fuel task in Storage. As I make my way to Upper Engine, Corpse leaves Electrical, falling in step with me. I immediately get nervous, but still make my way to where I’m supposed to go, hoping he’d go his own way eventually. 

I stay wary of my boyfriend as I do my task, praying he won’t take my head off. When the task is finished, I find I’m trapped in the room with the doors shut. And Corpse right there. With every right and opportunity to kill me and vent. No one would know. No one saw us. 

That nervous sweat is back. 

I’m counting my last seconds of being alive.

And it happens...

A body is reported

“Oh than you so so so much! Corpse was gonna kill me in Upper Engine!“ I don’t let the person who reported the body speak, thanking them for my survival. “I was sure I was a goner.“

“Babe, come on now. You know I wouldn’t kill you even if I was an impostor. I love you too much.“ Corpse hurries to defend himself, “I’m following you around to keep you safe.“

I can tell he’s capping, but I have no concrete proof. He knows I’m onto him. His best bet is having me killed by the other impostor. He might have been capping the majority of his defense, but I know he won’t kill me.

“I’ll vote for myself because of that one.“ I mumble

The vote is skipped except the one vote I placed on myself and the round continues. I follow Corpse around the whole time, making sure he’s completing tasks - not that I can be 100% certain he’s actually completing them.

All is well until we walk into Admin and find Felix there, uploading data. Corpse, dead-ass, goes up to him and kills him, reporting the body right afterwards.

“IT’S CORPSE!“ I don’t give him a chance to start his brainwashing of the rest of the players. “Felix, this is my redemption for leaving your death unavenged last round.“

“Yeah, it’s me.“ Corpse laughs, that adorable laugh of his melting me despite the need to stay strong and carry out my argument, “Just vote me out so I can go troll Y/N.“

“Sounds like a plan to me.“ Ken says, the remainder of the crewmates, and the impostor probably, agreeing with him.

The votes are put in, all on Corpse obviously, and he is sent off into space. Not even five seconds later I hear his footsteps approaching. 

I look up when he pops his head in the room and says, “I have come to annoy you to death with my love for you.”

I can’t help but laugh, shaking my head. The things this man does to me are insane. It’s insane that I let him. 

It’s amazing, really. We’re amazing.

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I pat the spot on the bed next to me, “I’ll allow it. But only cause I love you too.”

@susceptible-but-siriusexual  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @hacker-ghost  @itsminniekat  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze  @divine-artemis

[k2padfoot]

Start Over

Draco x Y/n

Summary: Draco couldn’t love you in your marriage until he almost loses you.

Warnings: angst, angsty, angst. some fluff. TW: some self-harm imagery pls be careful reading!

The two of you had been married for one year now. You knew it wasn’t a marriage that he wanted, no it was more like one he was forced in to. On the other hand you, well you weren’t really surprised you had been wed to a Malfoy being a pureblooded Slytherin and all. The only thing you didn’t expect was for him to still not want you..

When Draco and yourself got married you were expecting him to be slightly reluctant at first, but you figured you’d win him with your charm over time. Unfortunately that never happened. You inevitably fell for the blonde haired beauty, but he just didn’t reciprocate those feelings even after a year. You’d fight with one another often, mostly over him not being loyal and the way he treated you. But he didn’t care, he just kept breaking your heart a little more each day. Tonight you were expecting just another drunk Draco to stumble through the door to your home.

It was around 11 o’clock now and you were sitting on the sofa with the fire crackling next to you illuminating the pages to your muggle book. You knew Draco was done with work around 7 pm and you knew he was definitely out getting wasted and falling over women that were not you like usual. Every friday night he shows up late, smelling like someone else, and his lips swollen red. He never let any other girls leave noticeable marks on him, thinking you still didn’t know what he was truly up to. Your eyes were drawn away from your book when your front door came swinging open, and an intoxicated Draco Malfoy stumbled in. You rolled your eyes at his appearance, he was noticeably wasted and you could already smell the alcohol coming off of him.

“What are you rolling your eyes about?” Draco said while slurring his words and stumbling to hang up his coat.

You slammed your book shut and rose to your feet, “Merlin Draco, do you think i’m that daft? Your such an ass!” You yelled to him as you tried to make your way past him, but he quickly grabbed your shoulder.

“Y/n, what the hell is your problem now? You are so damn needy and annoying!” he yelled back in to your face and you grimaced at the alcohol stench coming from his breath.

Your eyes were filling with tears but you didn’t want him to see how much his words really did hurt you, “Piss off! You’re drunk Draco, go to bed.” you said while you turned around and headed to the study.

You walked into your study and plopped down at the desk in the middle of the room. You just wanted to be alone right now. You could hear Draco slamming around outside of the door, but you didn’t care. You were so tired, so tired of his harsh words, his lack of decency, his disgusting actions, and just everything at this point. He had no idea just how much he hurt you everyday, and now it’s been a whole year of this and you were just so unbelievably tired.

Draco never understood why you got so upset with him. He assumed you disliked him just as much by the way you acted a lot. He figured you didn’t want to marry him either, he thought you’d never be able to love him, he knew he would break your heart so he made sure you wouldn’t fall for him. But he didn’t know how much he was breaking you already, he had no idea just how in love with him you were.

You had been reading in the study for at least an hour now trying not to consume yourself with bad thoughts. Your head was pounding, and you could feel yourself becoming more and more anxious by the minute. You quickly got up from the desk and made your way to the bathroom. You quietly tip toed past Draco’s sleeping form in your bed, you knew he’d be passed out with how much he drank so he wouldn’t come in. You had a routine for nights like this, nights where you just couldn’t handle everything.

Your bare feet came in contact with the cold tiled floor in your shared bathroom. You flipped on one of the many lights and walked over to your bathroom sink. You pulled open the cabinet under the sink and reached in for the bottle of wine you hid in there. You took it out and popped the seal while you let the large bathtub in the center of the room fill up. You never drank really and Draco knew that was because of how badly your father drank... But sometimes you just needed something to take the edge off. You slipped out of your clothing and into the warm water letting it soothe your skin. Your head was leaning against the edge of the tub and you took a deep breath before you brought the bottle to your lips and began to down some. Waiting for the pain to slowly fade away as you closed your eyes and let your body relax in the warm water.

You opened up your eyes and realized how quickly you had gotten tipsy from the wine, must’ve been because of your empty stomach. Your head was buzzing and your vision was blurred a bit, you only ever drank half a glass at most to take the edge off. But this time the large double bottle you had gotten out was half empty. This was a different type of drunk, and you didn’t like it. You didn’t like how it made your head hurt even more with bad thoughts. You didn’t like how it made your blood burn, how it made your bones numb, and your cheeks stained with hot tears. You hadn’t realized you were quietly sobbing in the tub now, eyes becoming too heavy to keep open anymore. So you let yourself slip down and become submerged in the hot water.

Draco had woken to the sound of your cries and busted into the bathroom to see you almost lifeless inside the tub. He grabbed underneath your arms and pulled you out of the water. His eyes had gazed over the almost empty bottle of wine sitting by the bathtub. His arms were wrapped around your torso as he sat the both of you down against the wall and pointed at your chest with his wand while speaking the reviving spell. Draco was now sitting behind you sobbing as he held your wet body close to his own. Your eyes shot open quickly after and you gasped loudly.

“Y/n!!! Y/n, what the hell were you doing?!! Please look at me!” Draco said as he turned your head to look into his perfect blue eyes.

You felt embarrassed but you knew you owed him an answer, “Draco, this wasn’t meant to happen. I-I just.. Sometimes I can’t handle the pain you know?” you said while stray tears slid down your cheeks.

Draco started to wrap a soft green towel around you,“Love, please tell me what’s going on?” he asked with soft eyes.

You tried to get up but you were too dizzy to stand, “Draco please don’t call me that!” you cried while hitting your fist lightly against his chest. “You don’t mean it! You don’t love me, i’m nothing to you!!” you yelled as he grabbed your arm and you fell into his chest crying.

He looked down at you with silent tears rolling down his own cheeks and softly kissed the top of your wet hair, “Y/n I- I am so fucking sorry. I never wanted to hurt you like this! Merlin I am so stupid!!!” he yelled and you flinched a bit at his tone. “Oh.. no.. no Y/n I- i’d never hurt you like that, and I never meant to hurt you like this.. I thought you’d be better off not loving me, I thought i’d hurt you if I let myself love you and I couldn’t do that.. I’ve wanted you for so long y/n but I thought it was just selfish of me. I figured if I couldn’t let myself love you i’d just live with you but I had no idea it was effecting you like this.” he said as he tilted your chin to look in his eyes again.

“Then why did you do it? Why did you let other women touch you like I should’ve been? Why did you say such harsh things to me?” you said while tears glistened your y/e/c eyes.

Draco looked down at you before answering, “I don’t know. I have no good explanation for you y/n and I know that’s not what you want to here but I just want you to know I’m sorry darling. You are worth so much more, you deserve so much more and I am so sorry I haven’t been giving you that. Your absolutely beautiful inside and out and I couldn’t apologize more for not realizing that in time. You deserve someone so much better y/n.” he said while he pushed a few stray hairs behind your ear.

You shifted in his arms to be completely facing him now, “But that’s the thing.. I don’t want anyone else, even after the things you’ve done I still don’t want someone else. Maybe we haven’t been able to truly love one another the right way but I don’t know Draco.. That doesn’t mean I just want to let you go.” you said to him as you nervously bit your bottom lip.

He reached down to cup your cheeks, “I don’t want to let you go either, honestly I never want to.. But I hurt you when I thought I was doing the complete opposite, I don’t want ever do that again. I don’t want you to feel like the things I did are ok. I want you to know just how important you are.” Draco said.

A stray tear slid down your left cheek, “I don’t want you to either... But I- I’d rather try than regret never knowing what this could really be.” you said while reaching up with your right arm to grab his own.

Within a couple of seconds Draco had smashed his lips on your own, and you felt it. The rush, and the pure infatuation. Draco felt the exact same way.

“Then could we start now?” he said as he pulled away from the kiss.

You gave him a confused look, “What do you mean?” you asked.

He gently placed your hands in his and pulled you to your feet, “Well for starters I am going to get rid of this,” he said while he dumped the rest of the wine bottle down the sink. “Next we’re going to give you a proper bath and then i’ll help you into some of my favorite sweats, & we can lay in each other’s arms for the rest of the night?” he asked you with a loving look on his face.

“I think that’s a perfect way to start.” you said as you smiled back.

“Then take this off and get back in love.” Draco said while he pulled at your towel. You giggled at his gesture and pressed your lips to his soft ones.

He pulled away and caressed your cheek, “I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you darling.”

You smiled in response and hoped for a new life with the beautiful boy in front of you.

[flareish]

Anxiety

kuroo x reader

summary: you hide your anxiety from basically everyone including your boyfriend, until he finds out for himself

genre: hurt/comfort

warnings: Emetophobia Warning! description of nausea/vomit, anxiety, bit of angst but ends in fluff

word count: 2.0k

a/n: I tried to make this as close to my anxiety since I hadn’t known anyone with my kind of anxiety(symptom wise) until I was seventeen, which was a good ways into when I realized I had anxiety. So here is some nausea anxiety representation!

masterlist

You tap your fingers in a mindless rhythm. Alternating the fingers and repeating them back and forth, trying to make it a game, a challenge. You did this over and over again to distract yourself from that all too familiar sinking feeling. That feeling like your stomach has managed to twist and knot itself a million times. Each bump of the bus made acid crawl up your throat. You crunched a mint in your mouth hoping the peppermint would soothe some of the nausea. It didn’t, but the thought was there. You just will yourself not to throw up on the bus, anything but that. The thought in itself makes you even more nervous, and in turn even sicker.

You don’t even know why you are anxious. Today is Kuroo’s big game, but it isn’t yours. You’ve been to a hundred of his games before but never before did you feel like this. Normally you get cute little butterflies, not an angry swarm of bees. The worst part is, there is Kuroo sat next to you happy as can be, completely oblivious. He keeps trying to drag you into conversations but you fear if you open your mouth for too long, all that will come up is vomit. So you keep your mouth firmly closed only smiling tightly or shaking your head at his prompts.

It's not exactly his fault though. He doesn’t actually know you have anxiety. It’s not something you really like to talk about. You are all for promoting the acceptance of mental health but you just find every time you tell someone the dynamic changes. Either they flat out don’t believe you since you “don’t seem like the type with anxiety”. Well duh, I don’t have social anxiety, I have situational anxiety. Like here in this situation. That or they suddenly treat me like I am incapable of handling myself. That whenever a slightly stressful event comes up, I am going to melt into a puddle of pure anxiety. Sorry but I’ve made it this far, I may have to throw up a few times on the way but I am still making it. 

So you just haven’t told Kuroo. You're just nervous that it will change the dynamic. You also don’t want to steal his spotlight. Today is supposed to be all about him. It's his big game. To suddenly speak up and tell him that his game is giving you anxiety would be selfish. So like you always have, you put a brave face on and face it head-on.

“Hey, are you okay?” Kuroo asks you, now facing you, “You look a little pale.”

“Hmm?,” You also turn to look at him, “Oh I am just a bit tired that’s all. I will be fine in an hour or so.” You hope at least. He nods relieved it's not something worse. 

You finally pull into the stadium and everyone is pushing their way off the bus. Luckily Kuroo is right by you to make sure you don't get accidentally pushed down the bus stairs and trampled. The team makes it’s to the bulletin board where they are given their matchups. Nekoma is paired with a pretty hard team. Suddenly, out of nowhere, you dry heave. You knew at the point you were going to throw up and within the next few minutes. 

“Hey I think I left something in the bus I’ll be right back.” You say to Kuroo before dashing off. He goes to reply but you are already gone. 

You make it around the back of the building before you throw up. At this point you’re kinda out of it, your mind is occupied on emptying your already empty stomach. Then you feel someone pull your hair back and gently rub your back. You don’t even have to look up to know it’s Kuroo. When you finish he hands you his water bottle.  You waterfall it and rinse your mouth out of that acidic taste. 

“What’s going on are you okay?” Kuroo asks full of concern. You hesitate for a moment, thinking of telling the truth. Then you remember this is supposed to be his day. 

“Sorry I must have caught a stomach bug.” He doesn’t completely buy it so you quickly add to it.

“I didn't feel great on the bus but I just thought it was because I was tired.” You feel bad lying, “I also don’t want to distract you before your game.” At that Kuroo quickly pulls you into a hug, “Your not a distraction, I just want to make sure you’re okay.” Your cheek is pressed against his chest and your hands grip the front of his shirt. 

“We should probably head back.” You mumble.

“Yeah.” He leans down to kiss you but you duck away. He looks incredibly offended and hurt at this.

“Dude I just threw up I don’t know if you want to do that.” 

“…Point.”

The two of you head back inside to the team, you feeling much better after throwing up. Before you know it, the competition has begun and Nekoma has won. You run down and celebrate with the team and it’s a happy day.

On the bus ride home Kuroo has a strange energy about him. Not like he’s mad more just like he’s just realized something. You nudge him and smile hoping to break him out of his little funk. He immediately smiles back and goes back to celebrating with the team. His reaction was almost like putting a mask on. You watch him for a moment before slipping into a conversation of your own.

When you make it back to school you go your separate ways. Him going to shower, and you to get home before it gets too late. A big hug before pushing away. You still refusing to kiss him after throwing up earlier in the day. 

You are laying on your bed, exhausted. Anxiety really takes a toll on your energy. Your thoughts are broken when your phone chimes with a text.  Leaning over to grab your phone off your bedside table you see it is from Kuroo. 

“Can you come over? I want to talk.”

No cute pet names. No slowly easing into it. Actually using proper grammar. Nothing in that message was a good sign. Just “I want to talk” was enough to make the acid begin to crawl again. You knew it had to be about today. Especially after you saw him zoning out on the bus. It had to be your anxiety episode. You knew he wouldn’t be happy you lied but going to this extent. Like he just found out you have anxiety and this is what he hits you with? The world’s most nerve-wracking text message. The only worse place than this would be “we need to talk”. That’s when you have really screwed up. So maybe you’ve only minorly screwed up since he said want not need. Does that mean you have the choice to say no? That was kind of tempting but you knew you would be tossing and turning all night thinking about what might be wrong. 

“Okay.” You reply to the text. Short and sweet. Putting on some shoes and grabbing a hoodie, you quietly slip out of your house. Kuroo’s house wasn’t too far but it was far enough. Enough to continue to stir in your intrusive and unstoppable thoughts. You eventually make it to his house and head in going straight for his room. Before you reach the door you hesitate and gather yourself. Preparing for whatever was about to come. 

When you go in you find Kuroo sat on the floor of his bedroom, back pressed against the bed. He jerkily looks up and you and gives you a tight smile. None of this is giving good signs. Something is very heavy on his mind. You sit down across from him, your back against the wall your feet almost touching. 

“So what was it you wanting to talk about.” You break the silence. He doesn’t respond for a moment. Just as you are about to try again he speaks up.

“Do you still love me?” Your face drops into confusion.

“Why wouldn’t I love you anymore?” You ask, suddenly realizing this wasn’t the conversation you were prepping yourself for. 

“You’ve been distant lately. You don’t tell me things like when you don’t feel good. I thought about it when I got home and I was wondering if you weren’t actually sick but just making the excuse because you got caught.” He’s very serious at the moment and his words hold a cold edge. 

“What do you mean get caught?” You match his tone. You weren’t planning on fighting but something about how he said it just set something off in you.

“You didn’t want to be there. Ever since this morning you were quiet and reserved. Even after the game, you wouldn’t even kiss me-”

“Yeah, cause I threw up! And how could I be faking it when I literally threw up.” You snap.

“You’ve been like this before though! Like last year’s big tournament you would barely talk to me.”

“That’s not true!” Although it kind of was just not the reason he thought.

“Oh yeah? What about at training camp you wouldn’t talk to me then either, you didn’t even eat with us you just sat on your own.” He threw back.

“Yeah, cause I have anxiety!” The words left your mouth before you knew it. Kuroo looked taken back.

“What?” His brow furrows, “Since when?” He’s not sure what to believe. You’re not surprised since you have worked very hard to hide it from everyone, accidentally sabotaging your own relationship without even knowing it. 

“Since forever. I just never told anyone.” You quietly say, ducking your head down.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You didn’t even need to look up to see the hurt on his face, it was apparent in his voice. You start playing with your finger, tapping them in rhythms.

“I wanted to,” You mumble, “But whenever I do stuff changes and I didn’t want anything to change.” He shifts forward and you think he’s going to leave. Instead, he grabs your hands, stopping the pattern you had going. You look up.

“Did you think I would judge you?” He was staring straight into you, willing the truth to come out.

“Whenever I tell people they either don’t believe me and brush it off or treat me like I’m incapable of handling any amount of stress. I’ve never seen anyone react any differently so I was scared you would fall into one of those reactions and I didn’t know how I could handle that. I didn’t want my anxiety to be the thing to tear us apart. But I guess it still was.” By the end of your speech, your gaze has returned back to the floor, unable to hold eye contact for that long with him staring at you so strongly. You hear him sigh then you are pulled forward and into his arms. 

“I want to be your pillar of support. I want to be that third reaction that is one of acceptance, one that doesn’t drive you crazy.” He strokes your hair soothingly, his words making you tear up, “When you are ready I want you to tell me everything. From when you first noticed it, to where it is now, to how you deal with it, everything.” By now you are fully crying, absolutely collapsed into his chest. “I love you so much.” It gets muffled in his shirt but he hears it.

“I know, and I love you.”

It would take some time for Kuroo to get used to this change but slowly but surely he will be different from the rest and he will support you no matter what. Although he also respects your strength and knows you can handle your anxiety on your own, he is always there when you need it. He becomes the third unexpected and unheard-of reaction; acceptance.

[paintball169]

Day 3 - Identities

Day1 - Day2 - Day3 - Day4

Marinette had been living with the waynes for over a month now. The reason? Tom and Sabine sent her away to her biological father. Apparently To Dupain was not her biological, but Bruce Wayne was.

Marinette had a sliver of hope, A really, really thin one. Which had faltered by the month.

Marinette had defeated Hawk Moth with Chat Noir. Apparently Plagg found the brooches along with two sleeping kwamis accidentally. At night when Gabriel and Natalie were asleep, He had stolen the miraculous. On the patrol that night, Chat had told her that the miraculous were right under their noses. He gave her the two brooches and told her that Plagg had found the brooches in his father’s study. He told her that Gabriel was Hawk moth and Natalie was Mayura. Then he de-transformed and handed her the ring saying that he wanted to continue his life as a civilian.

Later that week it was announced that Chat noir found out who Hawk Moth was and he had stolen the miraculous at night. He then said that Gabriel and Natalie were the Villians. He then revealed himself saying that he was innocent, and he had no idea that his father was Hawk moth. Marinette had thought that with Hawkmoth gone she could beat Lila, But no, it Backfired. That was the reason she was Shipped off. Like an object. She was replaced just like an object.

Her only wish was to die. But she had tried to do that multiple times. Someone always managed to save her. So no, that option was unavailable. She had thought that she would finally be able to die in Gotham by sucide, But no, Selina, Cassandra or Jason always managed to save her.

By now she had started to see the woman as a mother figure. The Waynes hated her. They didn’t even listen to her side of the story. Only Cass and Jason had seen that there was more to the story. Selina and Alfred too, of course. The waynes saw her with disgust. They laid out certain rules.

And of course she figured out they were Bat family. She may not be from Gotham, but she wasn’t certainly stupid. She had to admit, The Waynes were really good at hiding the Batfam thingy. But what gave them away? Misplaced Batarangs by Tim. Then Tikki had also found the cave. She wasn’t stupid, Clark Kent and Bruce Wayne were good friends and certainly Batman and Superman. The people of Justice league stopped by often at the Manor too.

Speaking of the Justice League, They had given her an offer to join the League, but she declined. They had given her a satellite phone for emergencies to contact the league. They had praised her high and low. Batman was even Concerned for her when he found out her age range. Concerned! If they knew that Ladybug was their new sibling who was claimed to be a bully, she’d be declared a threat and her take Miraculous away.

Her routine was the same. Wake up. Eat breakfast in silence as she was being glared at. Study something. Do commissions while talking to her boyfriend, Luka and the others. Eat Lunch while being glared at. Study the Grimoire with Alfred. Sketch some designs while talking to Selina and Cass. Draw illustrations while Jason talks. Eat dinner in Silence. Stay up till 3 am doing commissions. Sleep.

Last week she had introduced Luka to Cass, Selina, Jason and Alfred. It went really well. Especially when Jason found out he was Jagged Stone’s son.

She was thinking how she could step up her game with the Waynes. In her thoughts she didn’t see Selina coming in.

“What are you thinking about Kitten ?” Selina asks, seeing the half sketched dress.

“Gah! Selina don’t scare me like that! Anyway I was thinking, ``What do I do to annoy the waynes?” Marinette asks the Master of scheming Cat-woman.

“Hmm, what about going to your true self? Being in headphones, ignoring them, Snide answers, and stuff like that?” Selina says thoughtfully.

“Selina, that's brilliant! You’re the best Mom!” Marinette says. She covers her mouth with her hand realizing what she said.

“Aww, Com’ere Kit. I love you.” Selina says softly.

“You’re not mad?” Marinette hesitantly asks.

“Of course not!” She says.

“You’ll be more of a mother than Sabine will ever be to me.” Marinette says with a small voice and hugs the older woman.

Then the Chaos was unleashed. Whenever the Waynes wanted to ask her something she’d ignore them and she always had her headphones on.

- - - - - - - -

“Marinette, tell me why did you hurt the poor girl?” Bruce asks in a stern voice. Of course Mari didn’t hear him because of the blaring music.

“Marinette, Why did you hurt the poor girl?” Bruce asks again, obviously annoyed.

“MARINETTE-” He was cut off from Alfred of course.

“If I may Master Bruce,” he says, earning a nod. He gently taps the girl’s shoulder. Marinette moves her hair away and removes her Airpod. The music is loud enough for everybody to hear.Meanwhile Bruce flushes in embarrassment. “Miss, Your father wants to ask you something.” Marinette nods. She turns to her Father.

“What?” She asks.

“I asked, Why did you hurt the poor girl marinette, around two months ago?” He asks, patience bearing thin.

“Oh? I didn’t know that I could make a clone of myself and Send one to the fencing class and the other to beat her up at the Seine?” She says in a bored tone. Jason and Cass, not being able to hold their laughter any longer, burst out laughing.

Later that night they checked her attendance, sure enough she was in the fencing class.

- - - - - -

One day Marinette got a call from the Justice league, Stating an emergency. She quickly transformed to Ladybug and Portalled to the Watchtower.

“Ladybug, welcome to the Watchtower,” Wonder Woman welcomed, standing at the head of a group of heroes. Interestingly enough, Batman and all of his brood were among them. Nightwing, Red Robin, Black Bat, and Robin and the others.

“Wonder Woman,” she greeted back. “What’s the problem?”

“Your former partner has been kidnapped.”

Ladybug’s face turned pale, but she took a deep breath instead of panicking. “What do we know?”

“Ra’s al Ghul has taken the former Chat Noir in an attempt to convince the Guardian of the Miraculous to turn over the jewels to him,” Batman reported.

Her face turned up into a snarl. “The League of Assassins,” she spat.

They were surprised that she knew Ra’s. But they hid it well.

“I take it you understand why we cannot allow the Miraculous to be surrendered to his control,” Batman continued.

Wonder Woman stepped in before Ladybug could reply. “Ladybug, we need you to tell us who the Guardian is so that we may protect them.”

Ladybug let out a cold laugh. Shivers ran down everyone’s spine. “Wonder Woman, you misunderstand. The Order of the Miraculous is all but dead. I’m all that’s left. You want the Grand Guardian of the Miraculous?” She spread her arms wide. “You’re looking at her. And Ra’s al Ghul can have them over my dead body. ”

The gathered heroes looked stunned. “Now where is Adrien?”

Red robin started, recovering first. “You’re not going alone.”

“You’re right,” Ladybug cut in. “I’m not. I’m gathering my team.”

“What Red Robin meant to say is that Batman and his assembled partners are going with you,” Wonder Woman soothed. “They have experience dealing with Ra’s and would be a great asset.”

“I’ll be back in ten minutes, at the most.” She said. Everyone nodded. She portalled away to gather her team.

Five minutes later a portal opened and stepped out Honey bee, Dragoness and Cobra in the Glory. The portal snapped shut when Ladybug entered.

“This is not enough! We’re dealing with Ra’s al Ghul and the league here!” Ladybug said. “We need her. She’s the last resort if we lose!” Dragoness exclaimed. The Justice league was confused. Who were they talking about?

“You’re right. Bee, you’re the only one who knows where she is. You’re her best friend. I can't find her in all of paris!” Ladybug asks, turning to Honey bee.

“You’re right, I do. It’ll be easy to find her. She’ll be in her room. She’s always Isolated, so don’t worry about getting caught.” Honey Bee answers.

“Isolation! I thought I told her to Socialize!” Ladybug exclaims.

“Yeah, but her family treats her like a pariah except some people. But Ladybug I don’t know if she’ll be able to fight.” Honey bee says.

“Rossi?”

“Rossi.”

“Now location please.” Ladybug says.

“Right. Wayne Manor, Gotham, New Jersey.” Honeybee whispers. Earning surprised looks from Ladybug and the Supers.

“Alright.” Ladybug portals away. This was all staged of course. She had recently found a spell to make a clone of herself.

“Why won't the hero be able to fight? She’s a hero!” Batman exclaims.

“Depression, you overgrown furry, Depression. She’s tried committing sucide several times. We saved her.” This earns many shocked looks.

Cue opening a portal. All of the Paris heroes Gasps. All in glory Multimouse is standing there.

When Honey Bee saw Multimouse, she gasped and enveloped her in a hug, muttering French endearments and saying how much she’d missed her. Dragoness stole Multimouse for a hug next before passing her on to Viperion who also received an extra peck on the lips in return, while Ladybug watched with a soft smile.

With Kaalki involved, it was child’s play to get into the assassin stronghold. Team Miraculous filled the gaps and worked seamlessly in their own right, simply a step away from Gotham’s Bats. They beat assassins on their own. The Bats just watched in awe.

It didn’t take them long to make their way to Ra’s.

The man wore a self-satisfied smirk on his face as he greeted him from his throne. A bruised and bloodied but otherwise intact Adrien was being restrained on the dias a few feet away.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Team Miraculous,” Ra’s mused, looking down the line. His eyes paused on Multimouse and his expression shifted to intense amusement. “And if it isn’t the latest in the Detective’s brood. I suppose heroics truly do run in the family after all.”

A number of shocked and confused gazes snapped to Multimouse, who simply stared at him down with cold eyes growling quietly.

“And yet she isn’t why we’re here,” Ladybug cut in coldly, shoving that problem in a box for later.

Ra’s shifted his oily attention to her. “Yes, I believe I requested the Guardian, young Bug.”

“And here I am,” Ladybug said simply. “But I will never cede the Miraculous to you.”

“Well, then I suppose the Blonde Cat dies.” The assassin near Adrien tried to kill him only to turn to orange smoke. Ra’s growls when he realizes he was tricked.

“Your reign is over. Your crimes won’t continue much longer. Tell me, just how long have you been using the Pits to keep yourself alive?”

“Goodbye, Ra’s al Ghul,” Ladybug intoned. “We’ll leave you to what remains of your empire.” She turned and motioned for the Fox to open the portal to the Watchtower. The Bats followed behind.

Adrien was at the fringes, attempting to escape a hero that was trying to get him to the Medbay for medical attention. He only had eyes for Multimouse.

“Marinette!” he called.

The Bats were shocked at both the name and the blatant outing of a secret identity.

Adrien broke free from his wounds. “Marinette, I’m so sorry,” he said brokenly.

It was quiet for a moment. “I take it they told you why I left, then,” Multimouse said, carefully devoid of emotion.

“I never thought-”

“Don’t, Adrien,” Queen Bee snapped.

Adrien gaped at his friend, shocked at the venom her words carried against him.

“But her Lies, they weren't hurting anyone!”

“How?” Multimouse snapped, her voice cracking. She took a deep breath. “How was it different? Because you told me I had to ‘take the high road?’ Because her lies would unravel themselves? Because she wasn’t hurting anyone? Bullshit, Adrien! They were hurting me!”

“She followed your advice at first,” Queen Bee said sharply. “She shouldn’t have, but you were her friend and she trusted you. By the time she realized that it had been a mistake, it was too late. Everyone else was in too deep and you did nothing . When Mari tried to tell everyone that they were being lied to, she was made to look like a liar. A bully.”

“Do you realize that the rest of us had people on watchlists?” Ryuko said bluntly. “People at risk of Akumatization that could bring the city to its knees. Aurore, because of Stormy Weather II. Ondine, because of Syren. But do you know who was on top?” She let the silence sit. “Marinette. Marinette was on top of that list. The only reason she was above Ladybug was because Marinette was drowning. But any time she tried to get through to the others, Lila hit back harder and you would ask Mari to back down. Because we don’t want to upset Lila, right? We don’t want her to become an akuma. Again.”

“My parents believed her, Adrien,” Multimouse said quietly. “They sent me away because I was ‘out of control’. I’m treated like a criminal where I am now! So I’m sorry, Adrien, but I can’t forgive you. You said you didn’t want to live with more lies, but then you stopped telling the truth when it threatened your ‘peace’. Even when that ‘peace’ might have ruined my life.” She took a deep, steadying breath. “But you know what they say, right? Never meet your heroes.” She turned and looked straight at Batman. “They’ll always just disappoint you.”

- - - - - - - -

The next week was tense at the Wayne manor. But eventually they apologised to marinette. She became close with them. She and her family then sent lawsuits to the Akuma class.

The saying is true then. “All’s well that ends well.”

@maribat-bdbwm

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

Trick or Treat

The next A Very Bouncey Halloween installment and a belated birthday gift to my darling @veritasrose. Thank you so much for the last year of friendship, I look forward to celebrating with you again. <3 you are much loved.

tw: curses, Geralt is an idiot, competent Jaskier

---

Light flashes through the room and momentarily blinds Jaskier, who stumbles back against Geralt. He mumbles an apology to the ever-sturdy Witcher as he waits for his vision to return and when he blinks clearly for the first time after a few long moments, the bard feels utterly and totally confused by the scene unfolding before him.

The Duke’s grandest ballroom, which had been bustling with excitable party guests only moments ago, is now flooded with ghouls, ghosts, vampires, and monsters of all sorts. A woman with swan’s wings is huddled in one corner, squawking angrily at anyone who tries to draw near. A minotaur stumbles through the center of the dance floor, lowing in frustration as he tries to control his bulky limbs. Two werewolves wrestle for dominance atop the furthest banquet table to their left. As Jaskier takes it all in, he feels Geralt’s hands wrap suddenly around his bicep; the Witcher is clinging to Jaskier fiercely, leaning his not insignificant weight against the bard’s side as his eyes grow round and watery.

“What’s happening?” Geralt finally asks. His tone of voice seems breathy and high, filled with a terror - almost totally foreign to Jaskier’s ears. Geralt fears nothing and yet… “Let’s get away from this dreadful place, please!”

“Aren’t you going to try and solve this problem?” Jaskier asks, glancing at his companion. He gestures at the various monsters roaming freely past the buffet table. “You’re likely the nearest Witcher, after all.”

“I’m no Witcher,” Geralt declares. He splays a hand over the very center of his blue velvet doublet (a nearly perfect imitation of the way Jaskier reacts to a perceived offense). “I am a Count. Witchers are dirty things, not meant for such a public life as my own.”

“For fuck’s sake, Geralt, now is not the time for a prank of this nature,” Jaskier huffs. “Something is clearly going on here. We need to help these people!”

“I know something is wrong,” Geralt sniffles - fucking sniffles - and squeezes the bard’s upper arm even more tightly. The sound of Geralt crying shakes Jaskier into understanding, even as Geralt begs: “But I don’t know how to help! Please get me out of here, Milord, I’m scared.”

Milord? Jaskier mouths to himself, even as he wraps one comforting arm around Geralt’s waist and ushers him away from the growing chaos at the center of the ballroom. Jaskier hurries them down one suspiciously empty hallway after another until he reaches the small suite that he had accepted as payment for his performance at the party. Jaskier ushers Geralt inside and locks the heavy oak door behind them.

“My Lord Geralt,” he gets the not-quite-Witcher’s attention. “Do you mind taking a seat by the fire for now? I’ll be right with you as soon as the room is secure, and then we can figure out what’s going on and what to do from here.”

“Yes, Milord,” Geralt nods. He hurries to comply with Jaskier’s request, to the bard’s continuing shock and awe, and stays still and quiet as Jaskier removes his doublet and rolls up his sleeves. Using the strength he’s spent twelve years at Geralt’s side developing, Jaskier shoves a bookcase, a dresser, and an unfortunately designed roll-top desk in front of the locked doors for added protection.

Moving behind Geralt with practiced efficiency, Jaskier also closes, shutters, and locks every window in the room, pulling the curtains closed to keep any light from spilling out and alerting stray creatures of their presence.

When he’s finished locking down all of their room’s possible entrances and breathing hard from exertion, Jaskier tugs the Witcher’s xenovox from his bag and flips it open, waiting with bated breath until Yennefer’s irritated voice snaps: “What do you want, Geralt?”

“Who is that?!” Geralt cries from his place near the fire. He has a white-knuckle grip on the overstuffed armchair he’s perched in and his clothing is mussed; Jaskier motions for him to be quiet and Geralt bites his lip, worrying the soft pink skin between his unusually dull canines.

“Was that Geralt?” Yennefer asks. "Did Jaskier summon me?"

“Yes and yes,” Jaskier replies. “I think he’s been cursed or enchanted or something. I was hired to play at the Duke of Rinde’s All Hallow’s Eve celebration and Geralt accompanied me - even dressed up for the occasion - but something happened at the party and now he’s acting strangely. I don’t know what to do.”

"What's happening?" Yennefer prods.

"Geralt is acting rather out of sorts. He’s speaking strangely, he wanted to flee the party rather than investigate the source of the changes-”

“What changes?”

“Everyone sort of… Well, a good portion of the party guests suddenly transformed into their costumes,” Jaskier explains, his speech stunted by his disbelief. “I know it sounds incredible, and it was! One moment we were all enjoying the music and the next… there was a minotaur and a mermaid and a faun… Geralt went nearly mute and started clinging to my arm like some sort of aristocratic maiden!”

“Oh shit,” Yen groans.

“Who is that?” Geralt repeats. Jaskier continues to ignore his companion. He knows that the moment he turns his attention to caring for Geralt, he won’t be able to tear it away again, and he needs to finish this conversation with Yennefer first.

“Why are you swearing?” he asks the sorceress. “What is it?”

“Geralt asked me for advice about this stupid ball a few days ago, while you were busy making arrangements with the Duke. He wanted to impress you with his All Hallow’s Eve costume and prove that he could be just as fancy and well-mannered as all the other men of your status.”

“Why in the world would Geralt want to dress up and act like a nobleman? It makes no sense! He detests small talk, he hates vanity, and he finds most men of my station to be cowardly and overly delicate - myself included! I just- I don’t quite understand why he’d go through all of this just to impress me. Or why he thinks this kind of thing would be impressive in the first place.”

“Jaskier, please tell me that you aren’t as stupid as our mutually beloved Witcher…”

Jaskier considers for a moment, pondering the things that he does to impress Geralt: gathering wood, learning to cook with game meat, preparing the Witcher’s potion ingredients while he's out on hunts, organizing their packs when they're spiking camp, brushing Roach’s mane… Realization dawns suddenly and all at once. He has a moment of pure understanding, a moment much beloved by every poet, bard, and playwright across the Continent: “Oh.”

Yennefer gives a tired laugh. “Yeah.”

“So he’s stuck as… a noble?”

“I suppose,” she sighs. “I’ll portal you to my location and we can figure things out in peace. Get your things together, I’ll open it up in precisely five minutes.”

“What’s happening!?” Geralt demands. Jaskier pulls the Witcher/Count to his feet and bows shallowly.

“I am Jaskier Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove. I will be your protector and chaperone for the foreseeable future, Your Lordship,” Jaskier bows shallowly. “I’m going to gather our things together and then we are going to meet up with a very lovely sorceress, Yennefer of Vengerberg.”

“Is she a friend of yours?”

Jaskier barely manages to hide his surprise at Geralt’s utter lack of recognition. His memories of Yennefer have also been taken, then.

“She’s a mutual friend.”

“Are you my friend?”

“I would like to think so,” Jaskier smiles. Geralt remains oblivious to the bard’s heartache, even as he curls himself against Jaskier. He tucks his face against Jaskier’s shoulder and sobs quietly. The bard runs his hands comfortingly up and down Geralt’s spine for a long, soothing moment. The smooth, royal-blue velvet tickles his fingertips. “Shh, dear heart. I’ve got you. Everything will be alright, I swear.”

“I trust you,” Geralt whispers.

Just as Jaskier is about to reply, Yennefer’s portal snaps open in the center of the room. Jaskier hands Geralt a set of bags and hauls his own over his shoulder. “Time to go, Your Lordship. Just take one little step…”

---

“Do you know who I am?” Yennefer asks. Geralt shakes his head before burying his face in the back of Jaskier’s shoulder-blade.

“I’m so frightened, Milord.”

Frightened? Milord? Yennefer mouths. Jaskier shrugs nearly imperceptibly and makes a panicked gesture in the Witcher’s general direction.

“I don’t know what to do either!”

“Well, start from the beginning. Tell me what happened at the party before all of… this.”

Jaskier recounts every detail he can remember in the most straightforward way possible, momentarily renouncing his poetic skills in favor of efficiency - for Geralt’s sake, of course, not Yennefer’s. When he's finished he asks: “And you said he did all of this to impress me?”

“Yes.”

“But why?” Jaskier repeats his earlier question. Yennefer understands that his meaning is different; Jaskier understands that Geralt is interested in him romantically, but the bard can't seem to get it through his head that Geralt has deemed him worthy. Although, knowing the Witcher, he isn't even sure how to go about doing such a thing in the first place.

"I just... I don’t quite believe you," he adds.

“He loves you,” Yennefer reiterates. "And now he’s stuck like this until the effects of the spell wear off, so I suggest you take his precious Lordship to one of my spare rooms and make yourselves comfortable. I’ll see you both for breakfast, providing the magic is null and void by then.”

“And if it isn’t?”

“I hope you enjoy small talk, you bardic bastard.”

Yennefer smirks and disappears from the room in a whirl of black and white silk, the scents of lilac and gooseberry curling through the air in her wake.

Geralt clings to Jaskier’s bicep again as the exhausted bard stands, keeping his larger body pressed against the human’s side as if Jaskier is the one who wields the Witcher’s swords. “So I’m under a spell?”

“Yes, darling.”

“At least I have you here to protect me, Jaskier. You’re so brave and strong; my hero!”

“It’s usually the other way around, dear heart, but I appreciate the sentiment. Now, how about we find a comfortable place to bed down for the night, Milord?”

"Alright."

Jaskier moves Geralt's hand so that it's curled around the inside of his elbow, the proper etiquette for a platonic escort, and leads him quickly down the long hallways of Yennefer's sprawling manor house. He chooses the blue-themed bedroom at the back of the East Wing, far from the sorceress' own suite of rooms.

He has to help Geralt change out of his lordly costume, the Witcher-turned-Count fumbling uselessly at the laces and buttons as if he'd never seen a fastening before in his life. Geralt whispers shyly as Jaskier pulls a nightshirt over his head: "Thank you again, Milord Jaskier. I feel as if I can't help but continue indebting myself to you."

"Think nothing of it, dear heart," Jaskier smiles, ignoring the pang in his chest. "I am happy to help you."

Jaskier tucks Geralt into bed before changing into his own nightclothes, tossing his things back into their travel bags as he swaps outfits. He feels Geralt tense up when he sits on the edge of the bed and his eyebrows narrow in concern.

"Are you alright, Geralt?"

"Are you going to share a bed with me?"

"Would you rather I didn't?" Jaskier answers with a question of his own.

"I... I wouldn't mind it if we shared."

Jaskier wishes he had Witcher sight, so he could catch a glimpse of the blush no doubt attempting to stain the Witcher's face. Despite the mutagens, Geralt's face still went pale pink when he encountered a strong emotion. It was adorable. And incredibly rare.

As soon as he pulls the covers over his chest, Geralt glues himself to Jaskier's side, snuggling close. "Feels safer," he says in lieu of explanation.

"Goodnight, dear heart."

"Goodnight."

---

"Fuck," Geralt groans, sitting up in bed. Jaskier sits up beside him, wiping the sleep from his eyes with the back of his hand.

"Good morning, Milord," he teases.

"Shut up," Geralt groans. Jaskier does get to see him blush this time, and the bard revels in it; he would trade all the gold in the world to see Geralt flush like this. "I can't believe I cried on you!"

"It was rather adorable, actually."

"Hmm."

"Still..." Jaskier reaches out, tentative, and cups Geralt's cheek with his palm. He turns the Witcher's face and locks their gazes together, blue meeting gold. "Still, I think I prefer you as you are. My big, strong Witcher who cares so much about defending the little guy. Willing to step in and help wherever and whenever he can."

Geralt's eyes get a little glassy and he leans forward, pausing and letting Jaskier make the final decision. The bard meets him halfway, pressing his lips against Geralt's without any sense of urgency at all. It's warm and sweet, time fading away as they let their feelings pour through this one simple gesture. When they pull apart again, Geralt gives a surprised, lopsided smile. "Oh."