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cheapshrimpysheep · 5 months ago

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Pocky Game

SUMMARY: How would they react if you asked them to play Pocky with you? Do they already know the game? What is it like to play with them? And how would a game with them end? 💋

CHARACTERS: Demon Brothers + Dateables (- Luke) = Lucifer; Mammon; Leviathan; Satan; Asmodeus; Beelzebub; Belphegor; Diavolo; Barbatos; Simeon; Solomon.

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; Bullet Points; Kissing; Suggestive?

WORD COUNT: An average of 240 words per character.

COMMENTS: I've already given up questioning the lore of this game, trying to find canon in the stories of the cards and events. I'm just going to write what I want and if there's something similar in a card or something, I don't know anything anymore. 😅😭

I hope you enjoy ❤️

CONTEXT: The Pocky game is a party game played with Pocky, a Japanese chocolate- or candy-coated biscuit snack. Two participants place the Pocky between them “Lady and the Tramp” style, and try to be the last to hold onto the biscuit, often resulting in a kiss.

How to play:

Pick a partner that you wouldn't mind kissing.

Face your partner and put a Pocky stick between you. Each partner takes an end of the Pocky stick in their mouth.

Each partner bites their end of the Pocky stick until their mouths meet in the middle. The first person to pull away loses!

To ensure that the others don’t interrupt or prevent you from playing, you go to his room.

Lucifer doesn't know what game this is. He doesn't usually have much interest in being up to date on these matters. That is more a Levi or Asmo thing.

“If you want a kiss, you can just ask for it, you know?” He tells you with a seductive smile after you've explained the game. But you insist that you want to play. He sighs amused. “Fine, if you want it that much.”

He comes closer to you and gently holds your hand with which you hold the box. Without taking his eyes off yours, he opens the box, leans over to bite into one of the biscuit sticks, takes it out with his mouth and points the other side at you. Before you bite the other side and start the game, he also places his index finger and thumb on your chin to tilt your head.

He plays with that seductively piercing gaze of his fixed on your eyes. As intimidating as it is inviting.

When there is only one bite left to finish the game, he grabs you by the waist and pulls you in, taking the last bite and kissing you passionately.

He breaks the kiss but doesn't take his face away from yours, speaking with his lips still very close to yours. “Well, I played your game. Will you play mine now?” He lifts you up and carries you to his bed.

Mammon knows what game this is. Some Succubus and Incubus have already tried to convince him to play with them. “Hey, I said they tried! Of course I didn't play. Who do you think I am?” So... would he accept to play with you?

“W-with you?” He blushes. “Well, s-sure. You're the only person I wouldn't mind playin’ with.” That he wouldn't mind? “FINE, that I would like to play with. Happy now?”

Yes! You take a biscuit stick out of the box, put it in your mouth and point the other side at him so he can bite it. He does so, blushing. He ends up letting go and relaxing as the two of you take your bites.

When the last bite comes and it's his turn, he ends the game and kisses you. It starts out relaxed, but within seconds it becomes needy. To the point that he cups your face and gets so close to you that you almost feel the need to take a step back so he doesn't completely eliminate the empty space between you.

He doesn't want to, but he breaks the kiss. “I hope you only wanted to play once, ‘cause now I just want to enjoy my prize.” He kisses you again, picks you up and takes you to his bed.

OF COURSE LEVI KNOWS THIS GAME! What kind of fake Otaku do you think he is? He even started rambling about the times he had read in mangas or seen in animes scenes like that and wanted to experience it and know what it was like.

He even goes so far as to comment on a character in a game that he loves doing this to him (the player) and... he sees you start to get upset with him. “NO, NO, NO! It's nothing like that! I swear! I mean, I like the character and I wanted to know what her route was like, b-b-but I was wondering the whole time...” He already had a small blush on his cheeks, but it got even bigger. “...ho-how it would b-b-be with y-you.” He also does that thing where he puts the tips of his two index fingers together.

Well, lucky for him, you also want to know what it's like to play with him and you have a box for that. His blush deepens, practically spreading across his entire face. BUT HE IS SO HAPPY!!! You also want to know what it's like to play this with the person you love? AND IT IS HIM? You'll need to find a way to calm him down so you can play.

You are the one who puts the biscuit stick in your mouth and points the other side at him for him to bite. He will be nervous the whole time you are playing. And when the last bite comes and it's his turn, he can't take it, he stops, perhaps in a mental struggle whether he should kiss you or let you decide. You're the one who ends up deciding to end the game and kiss him.

And now, with this confirmation from you, he can no longer contain himself and wrap his arms around you. And even after you break the kiss he will want to continue snuggling with you.

Yes, Satan knows the game, or at least the description of it from some books. “You want to play it with me?” He smiles. “Of course, I would love to! I would also like to know what it is like.”

He lets you set up the game. You put the biscuit stick in your mouth and let him bite the other side. Although he's blushing a little, he maintains his composure while playing with you, while looking into your eyes with affection.

When there is only one bite left to finish, even if it is his turn, he stops. You can tell by the look in his eyes that he wants you to be the one to choose how you want to end the game. And you finish the biscuit stick by kissing him.

You feel his lips form a smile, his arms wrap around you and surprise you when he pulls you in a way that you lose your balance and lie down supported by his arms.

He breaks the kiss gently and looks at you to see your reaction. He smiles, happy that he surprised you so positively. He rests his forehead against yours. “I can see why people like to write about this game. Would you like to play it again?”

But OF COURSE Asmo knows this game! He tells you he's even played it before, and then regrets it a little when he sees your reaction. “Oh no hon, it was just a few quick kisses, just a little touch. Don't be sad, you know that my special kisses are aaall for you~. You still want to play with me right?” He makes puppy eyes.

“Yaaaay~” He gets so happy and excited when you say yes. He's so cute he looks like a kid in a candy or a toy store.

You put the biscuit stick in your mouth and he wastes no time in biting the other side. He plays the entire time with that cute smile and his eyes shining as he looks into yours. But in the last few bites, that look begins to change and become more seductive.

When there is only one bite left to finish and it’s his turn, he stops. His inviting gaze tells you he wants you to be the one to end the game and give him your love.

You do so and, as if that had been a way for you to give him permission to show his love for you, he hugs you passionately and deepens the kiss.

You're going to have to be the one to break the kiss because if it were up to him you'd stay like that for hours. “Oh, do you want to take a break? Do you want to play again? Sure! I can play with you until the box is empty. And then we can continue the kisses without the sweets right~?”

You hesitate to ask Beel about the game. I mean, it's a game that involves food... and it's Beel. But he realizes that there is something you want to tell him, so you end up giving in and telling him about the game.

He thinks he heard about the game from Levi, but the only thing he remembers is that there were biscuit sticks involved. You say you would like to play it with him, emphasis on the play.

“Don't worry, I understand what you mean. I know I'm at risk of being tempted to just eat the biscuits, but if you want to play I'll do my best to restrain myself.” He smiles warmly. “Even though biscuits may be tasty, I like making you happy more.”

You are the one who puts the biscuit stick in your mouth (because if it were Beel he would simply eat it whole) and point the other side at him so he can bite. He rubs the back of one hand with the other, nervous because he's afraid he'll end up eating the whole biscuit and ruining the game. But he takes his first bite anyway.

His first two bites go well, but on the third he gives in to the temptation of chocolate and ends up taking a bite that almost ends the game. You are both surprised and he looks away sadly. But you can still take one last bite.

You take the last bite, ending the game and kissing him. You try to convey through your kiss that everything is okay and you forgave him. You realize you've made it successfully when you feel him smile, hug you and deepen the kiss.

“Hey, I liked the game, but can we separate food and kisses for now?” He says when you break the kiss. “I was really scared that I might accidentally bite you.”

Belphie recognizes the name of the game because he's heard Levi or another brother talk about it. But could you explain the rules again? It's a game that doesn't require effort and that brings you both closer together, so: “Okay, sounds fun. Who starts?”

You were going to put the biscuit stick in your mouth, but then you decided to hand it to Belphie for him to bite first, as if you were feeding him. You know he loves it when you spoil him. You bite the other side and the game begins.

He is very chill when playing and have a sweet smile on his face. There is no tension during the game, just a warm and comfy feeling.

When there is only one bite left to finish the game, it is his turn and he ends the game by kissing you softly. You stay like that for a while until the kiss is broken gently.

You keep playing until either one of you gets bored or the box is empty. After that, he will convince you to lie down on the bed and cuddle. “It's a fun game. We should play it again sometime.”

Diavolo doesn't know the game, but he's super excited to learn everything about it and play with you. He listens attentively and with a smile to your explanation. “Ha ha ha. Looks like a simple but fun game. I will play with you with pleasure.”

You put the biscuit stick in your mouth and point the other side at him so he can bite it. He does so with an amused smile. The game goes smoothly and without tension, just with a warm and comfy feeling.

When there is only one bite left to finish the game and it is his turn, he stops and looks you in the eyes. You giggle and he understands this as the confirmation he was looking for. He ends the game and kisses you sweetly.

He hugs you and pulls you gently against him. He deepens the kiss before breaking it with a big warm smile. “What a lovely game.” He caresses your cheek. “Thank you for showing it to me. Do you mind if we play it again? I really enjoyed playing it. And I enjoyed doing it with you even more. Your sweet kisses are the best thing I've ever tasted.”

Barbatos doesn't know this game, but he will be happy to learn how to play it if you don’t mind teach him. He listens attentively to your explanation and the more you talk the sweeter his smile becomes.

“I see, the rules seem simple. It will be a pleasure to fulfil such a request coming from you. Do you want to start the game or would you like me to do the honours?”

You let him start the game and hand him the box. He takes out one of the biscuit stick, puts it in his mouth elegantly, and leans forward slightly, as if bowing, so that the other side of the biscuit is level with your lips.

You bite the other side and the game begins. As expected, he is a perfect gentleman throughout the game. When there is only one bite left to end the game, even if it’s his turn, he will stop so that you can decide how you want the game to end.

You finish the biscuit stick and kiss him. His kiss is gentle and loving. You feel his gloved fingers on your chin, caressing your face until they reach your cheek, the feeling of a soft, well-cared-for fabric.

If you take too long to break the kiss, he will politely break it. He chuckles. “It will be my pleasure to provide you with all the care and love you desire. But shouldn't we distribute this feeling out across the game rounds for it to be more fun?” He brings his index finger to his chin. “Unless one round was enough for you.”

Simeon doesn't know the game, but he will be happy to learn how to play and do it with you. He smiles sweetly the whole time you are explaining the rules. “Ha ha. Sounds like a fun game. I would love to play with you. How do we start?”

You put one of the biscuit stick in your mouth and point the other side at him so he can bite it. He does so with a cute smile. The game goes smoothly and without tension, just with a warm and comfy feeling.

When there is only one bite left to finish the game and it is his turn, he eats it, kissing you. It's a kiss that starts off sweet but becomes more intense, with him cupping your face and deepening the kiss. You can feel the smile on his lips.

He breaks the kiss slowly. “Hum... This was the goal, right?” He asks slightly embarrassed. “Did I overdo it? I’m sorry if I did.” You say he didn’t, that everything is fine and that you even liked it. “Oh, really? I’m glad. I got excited when I when I felt your lips. But don't hesitate to let me know if I do, okay?”

Of course Solomon knows this game. From Asmo? Thirteen? Someone else? You will never know. “Ha ha ha. I don't remember who told me first, but I've known it for some time. Don't worry about it. I'm looking forward to playing with you. Can I start?”

You tell him he can and hand him the box. He takes out one of the biscuit sticks, puts it in his mouth, places his index finger on your chin to tilt your head and places the other end of the biscuit at the same level as your lips. When you bite it, he smiles.

Even though his face doesn't have a very different smile than usual, there's a certain mischievous tension throughout the game. The closer your faces get, the more this feeling grows.

When there's only one bite left, even though it's his turn, he stops, and looks into your eyes waiting to see what you're going to do. You finish the biscuit and the game, kissing him. You can feel his smug smile. He wastes no time in grabbing you by the waist to press you against him to deepen the kiss.

You'll have to be the one to break the kiss if you want to continue playing, otherwise he'll simply lead you to his bed.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

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voidhope · 2 years ago

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The Other Woman

—

Synopsis: Where Miguel leaves Y/N to go back to a different version of his old wife found in another universe.

Pair: Miguel O’Hara x Spider!Reader

Tags: ANGST!!, long term established relationship, heartbreak, marriage, cheating, mental health, cold/distant Miguel

—

A/N: Hi! I don’t really write at all!!

I have been a silent reader on tumblr for years but this idea has been playing in my mind so much I had the urge to write it. I have been down so bad for Miguel been on his tag like 24/7 indulging in all the content creators have been putting out. So I’m excited to join in giving content, however keep in mind I kinda suck! Apologies for any mistakes, anything confusing, or it not being well written enough. Honestly could have made this into multiple parts with better details but nah. Tried my best ^^ since it’s my first time, any feedback is greatly appreciated!

Honestly tbh we all don’t have a solid grasp how the whole canon thing and multi universe works yet so!! A lot of what is written is made up to suit my storyline so please don’t get mad about the inaccuracies.

I love a good angst and today’s story will be EXTRAAA angsty!!! As well kinda long!!

—————————————————

The moment that changed your life was while working on an experiment during your college finals. You were a proud and gifted physics major that was so passionate about discovering and exploring what the world didn’t know.

You had snuck into Alchemax late at night. You wanted to show your professors just how much you could do with the right tools. Next thing you know, playing with their machines, you had spawned a spider right in-front of you. The glowing vibrant red spider had sunk its jaw into your hand.

Your life did a complete turn and you spent the rest of that week freaking out while changes to your body were happening. Causing you to fail your semester after missing exams. Things felt like it could only get worse when a massive blue suited masked man showed up out of nowhere in your dorm interrogating you.

“Where’s the spider?” He had a strong grip on your shoulders. You couldn’t focus while trying to process why this man had what seemed like claws sticking out of the ends of his fingers.

“I don’t know, it like died after it bit me!” You exclaimed nervously at the freakishly strong man. Trying to reach for anything behind you to use as a defense weapon.

“Dios mío no me digas eso…” He groaned loudly letting you go. Having the opportunity to grab something, you threw a sanrio plushie at him. Only causing him to wave his arms in annoyance. “That spider is from my earth and somehow you brought it here. Now you’re a spider-man.”

And the rest is history…

—

You learned that the man was Miguel O’Hara and when he found you he was just starting his missions with the multiverse. You being the few of the firsts to join his team.

Your situation was quite bizarre and he called you an anomaly for a long time, spending hours studying you and also training you. You ended up being the one case that can’t be explained no matter how much effort was put into monitoring you.

Almost like it was meant to be. Your universe remained perfect with its current spider-man doing fine. No big collapse of a black hole or anything. When you got bit by a spider from Earth-928 your DNA merged with that universe making you fit in perfectly. You were one of the only spider-people with an uncertain timeline with new canons being created depending on what universe you were in.

What changed from you being just a piece of research for Miguel is when he then realized that maybe you were a gift from the multiverse. After all the grief and pain he’d went through the universe had given him this person that worked out perfectly no matter how hard he tried to push them away. You fell head over heels for him and vice versa, all while canon events were being created with both of you together.

You were there as his team grew, slowly turning into a family. Then both of you getting married finalizing that this was your home. Everything felt perfect. Although a relationship with Miguel could have its up and down days, nothing could ever tear you both apart. Or so you assumed.

—

“I’m sorry Y/N.” Miguel couldn’t look at you.

“When did this start? Please be honest with me. Did I do something wrong?” You begged at him. You knew he was acting off recently but never did you think it would result to this.

You watched as he exhaled deeply staring at the ground. You felt like you couldn’t breathe as you studied his face trying to grasp onto any emotion he was showing. The atmosphere in his office felt so cold. You so badly wanted to catch his gaze and find the warmth and love his red irises used to give you. He was doing everything to push you away. He was abandoning you.

“You did nothing wrong. I met her during a mission 4 months ago.” Was all he replied.

“Who is she?” Your heart kept breaking. His face hardening as the question slipped through your lips. You knew Miguel wouldn’t leave you for just anyone. Deep in your heart you knew what this was about. He never responded but he didn’t need to when you saw his eyes flicker over to his monitor screens. You followed his trace and saw the photo of Gabriella in the corner.

“Does she have another version of your daughter?” You tried again. This is what made him look directly at you. Miguel kept opening and closing his month unsure how to tell you the truth. You weren’t stupid and he knew that. After everything he couldn’t just walk out on you with a lie.

“No.” He paused thinking of how to finally share the truth without it ruining you. There was no way out of this. “She is a younger version of herself. There is no Miguel in her universe and she’s not important to the timeline. She lives a regular life. I-it’s a chance for me to start at the very beginning.”

You felt your heart being ripped out of your chest. You processed the words carefully. She doesn’t have a child yet… Not only was he leaving you for her but he was going to fall in love with her all over again and start a family with her. A family you wanted so badly to have with him.

“What about with what happened last time you tried to live a life in a different universe?” You didn’t understand how this was happening.

He was always so carful he would never do anything to cause that again. Everything you had witness Miguel work so hard for to keep safe for years. Sleepless nights, returning bruised and beaten, frustrations and constant stress. Was it all for nothing? Is he throwing all his work away?

“This is different.” He turned away from you. “I pushed myself then into an already established life. This time I am creating that life. After all the research we did on you…” He knew that this was going to tear you apart. “I learned that if done right I could have a child from two different universes that won’t disrupt anything.”

It clicked to you then that all the research he was doing on you lately was for this. The research he did on you that time was different, personal, intimate even. As he was testing your DNAs together and seeing the outcomes. He mentioned a child and you were foolish enough to assume he was doing research to see what it would be like if you both had one together. You were giddy even as you watched him work. You had both spoken about having a family together in the past but had been too busy with spider activities. You thought it was a sign of him getting more serious about it, knowing how badly he wanted one. You would have never thought he was doing it to see how he could get back his previous child. The one you could never give him.

You had truly believe that Miguel had recovered from his obsession that his grief gave him. He accidentally destroyed a whole universe needing that life back so badly. You had spent late nights watching him re-watch clips over and over of what he had lost. It slowly stopped once your relationship blossomed with him and you thought he was ready to move on and start new. Why would you have never thought that with such a perfect opportunity presented to him that he wouldn’t drop everything for it.

“I think it’s best that you leave.” He spoke with a soft tone. As if not looking at you any longer will make the problem go away. You couldn’t wrap your mind around how he was just throwing you away like this. As if he wasn’t making you dinner, giving soft kisses, whispering I-love-you’s not so long ago.

You felt too choked up to ask anymore questions. Your throat tight and painful as you held back tears from escaping in-front of Miguel. You just nodded and headed straight out the door not being able to handle another second in that room. Your knees and hands were shaky as you speed walked into the nearest bathroom and let it all out.

—

It didn’t take long for everyone else to know something had happened. Everyone had gotten used to seeing you and him sitting together at lunch. You would make him cute lunch boxes and everyone would gag a bit while watching the two of you smile together. Some cringing seeing their scary boss being so soft around you. It was a big surprise when Miguel started to eat alone with a bag of take out food and you no where to be seen.

His teams he sent out for missions were all confused when you weren’t assigned to anything. Knowing you were one of the best, one of them slipped out a “Call for Y/N!” In the middle of fighting an anomaly too strong for them. Miguel only looked away.

It wasn’t until a new woman showed up in Miguel’s office with a grip around his waist. That’s when the spider-community realized that this was way worse than they thought.

—

You on the other hand had spilled everything to Hobie when he caught you that day leaving the bathroom with puffy eyes. You had been staying with him in his universe until you could gather yourself together to return to HQ. You knew you were going to leave for good, but you needed to go back to retrieve all your things. You couldn’t stay with Hobie forever. Worse that you weren’t from there.

You still had some hope that Miguel would come looking for you and tell you that he was all wrong. However almost two months had passed and not a word from him… That’s when you knew it was time you should return to what you once knew.

Stepping into the portal Hobie followed close behind you. He told the few others who were once close to both you and Miguel that you would be visiting. Stepping through the portal you were immediately greeted by Jessica and Peter B Parker.

“Oh, Y/N.” Jess sighed your name sadly while pulling you into a hug. You felt like you wanted to cry all over again. Missing your friends so much. Peter B came behind giving you a hug on the side.

“He’s on a mission right now.” Peter spoke up. “It might be a long one too but don’t waste anytime just incase.”

You nodded pulling away from them. Looking up around the headquarters building faintly smiling at the past memories you had here. You started heading to different areas gathering all the little things you had left around. Hobie had stitched for you a cute backpack with different scraps of patterned clothes and covered in patches of punk band logos but made with hammer space technology. Making it fun for you to fill endless of your things in the bag.

The last stop was in Miguel’s office. Doubt started to fill your mind; maybe he already threw out all of your stuff. Why would he even keep it after all of this? What no one could warn you of was the other person sitting on his platform.

“Hello!” She chirped at you. It felt like the air in your lungs had just been punched out. You knew her too well. From all the photos and videos you had seen peaking over Miguel’s shoulder. However seeing her in person was something you had never expected. You knew it wasn’t the original her but it was a copy paste image for sure.

“Hi.” Was all you managed to choke out. She was beautiful, stunning. You could see clearly now the similar features she shared in another universe with her daughter. The parts that Miguel didn’t have. She kept smiling kindly at you, almost in a graceful way. You started to feel all your insecurities start eating you up from the inside. How could you have ever compared to her.

“What’s your name? I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.” Getting off Miguel’s platform she walked closer to you. The room started to feel suffocating.

“Y/N.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you! It’s nice to meet other girls around here.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you realized she had no reaction to your name. So Miguel never told her about you… Or that the fact was he was still even legally married to you.

“My boyfriend isn’t here right now but, if you want, I can tell him you stopped by.” She continued as you stayed silent.

“Oh, no it’s okay. I just came in here to get some stuff.” You rushed as you really wanted nothing to do with Miguel at all. You almost worried that he might even get angry knowing you got to speak with her. If he already dislikes you this much you couldn’t even imagine how he would feel if you got in the way of this for him.

You started heading over to the familiar drawers around the room. Grabbing your old hoodies and shirts finding your most comfortable of things here. You treated this place as one of your safe spaces as you used to spend so much time here.

“Oh I didn’t know these were all yours! I was wondering why this was all around. When I came here I wanted to do some spring cleaning but Miguel wouldn’t let me touch anything.” She followed besides you. “It’s so mind blowing seeing all this technology. We don’t have any of this where I live-“ She continue rambling but you started to zone her out. You felt like you were about to have a panic attack any minute. There was one question that kept burning in your mind.

“Are you and Miguel already planning to have a child?” You blurted out. Your eyes widened a bit as you surprised yourself. She let out a loud laugh.

“Oh dear no! We have only been together about 6 months. You must be new around here so you must not know much about us.” She chuckled.

In some cruel way you were hoping she would have said yes. You had that twisted hope of maybe Miguel just keeping her to have a kid and ditching her after he gets Gabriella and run back to you. In reality he was playing the long game, he really meant it when we said he was starting over. “He’s never mentioned kids anyways. I’m not even sure if he’d like them or do well with them.”

With that statement she made you looked at her appalled. Anyone could see in Miguel how good of a father he could be. Just in the way he takes care of the society he built here. You started to realize that she really has been left in the dark. She doesn’t know anything. She probably doesn’t even know that she’s a replacement of another self. You wondered why Miguel was doing this. It felt like he didn’t just toy with you but with her as well. A man you came to love for how selfless he was, to realize now everything was for his own personal gain. Suddenly you started to feel bad for her. You couldn’t dislike her, she wasn’t doing anything wrong and she doesn’t even know.

“I got all my stuff. Nice to meet you.” Was all you could say as you zipped up your bag and turned straight around out of there. Not giving any glance back at her, you left to one of the empty training rooms to recollect your overwhelming thoughts. All of the self healing you tried the past month thrown in the garbage.

It wouldn’t be too soon that news of you going around the building was returned to Lyla. You had cut out all coms while you were gone so she immediately popped up on your watch when she found out.

“AH-“ You jumped as the tiny AI was suddenly in front of your face.

“It’s so wonderful to see you Y/N. Oh my god!”She started. Then she went on rambling about how she knew everything and had seen everything. How she didn’t agree with what was happening and was doing everything she could to convince you to stay. After 5 minutes of her rambling you stopped her to let your emotions out.

“Lyla, Lyla It’s okay. Just stop. It’s all complicated I know, but this didn’t work out. I wished Miguel just cheated on me like all the other fucked up normal men out there. That I walked in on him deep in another random girl. Though painful I could have tried fixing and fighting for us. But instead what I got was him emotionally cheating on me and chase after something he knows I can never give him.” You felt yourself choke up. “I can never ask him to give up what he longs and dreams for just for me to be happy. I lost this battle the moment he laid eyes on her.”

Finding comfort in the AI your husband made. You’ve created a bond with Lyla that Miguel found cute but you knew now this might be the last time you’ll be speaking with her.

“You can give him a family y/n… you guys have been married two years now. I know you’ve both set the thought aside until the multiverse issues are better but you can fight for him. You have to snap him out of his fantasy. He still thinks about you.”

“Lyla you know deep down truly he never just wanted a family. He wanted exactly what he had. What he lost. Which should be impossible but being by his side seeing how insane the multiverse is… Good for him for believing in something so hard he’s found himself even a third chance to do it.”

“I hate that you’re being too kind about this situation.” Lyla paced around you.

“I love him so deeply Lyla. You know that very well. It’s so hard to suddenly hate him. I am angry, but I’m also emotionally drained I can’t do this.” You let out a deep sigh. “I’ve watched him long for this family when we just met. For some stupid reason when things worked out for us I thought I would be enough… When we got engaged and he would spend some days at home with me not even coming to HQ. I thought he was finally moving on not just from his grief and past but from the weight of his work. I saw a bright future for us.”

“You can still have a bright future with him! You moving here gave him a new canon event, another chance at life in his timeline. Here in his own universe! He’s just too obsessed and he’s lost himself in that.” She exclaimed with her hands up.

“Our canon event was our wedding.” Your frowned deepened. “But the universe didn’t say anything else after. It doesn’t say our canon event means we are suppose to live happily together forever I guess.”

“I’m just trying my best to be optimistic. I rooted so hard for you and Miguel when you joined the team. I know you can remember the amount of times I would force you both in rooms.” Lyla recalled.

“And I’m grateful for it… Even if this didn’t work out. I was given precious memories, not just working with you and being on this team but falling in love with Miguel. I know I’m being all depressed and hopeless but I feel like even if I move on I’ll never be able to replace him and find a relationship like this again. However he threw me away so easily and maybe he never valued me as much as I did to him.” You felt your emotions bubble. “I became who I am here. I’m going to miss everyone so much.”

“You can still stay here and work with us.” She edged on.

“I can’t just sit around here begging at his feet to return to me or moping around doing missions while watching him with someone else. I want to hate him so badly. I know he’s your boss and you’re basically hardwired to do everything for him and you’re trying your hardest to fix what you think is his right path. But think of me a little more and how miserable it’ll be. I’m the only one hurting here.”

Lyla paused and stared at you with an almost glossy-eyed look. While she worked she could see the inner term-oil Miguel was hiding and the emptiness he was turning to since trying to start new in the other universe. It just wasn’t her place to hold this conversation and he was the one who needed to get a grip of himself and really think and talk with you. She can’t be the one trying to mend the pieces for both of you together. What Miguel did was so wrong. She knew you were right and she didn’t want to see any more damage be caused to you.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” She looked up at you sincerely. “I hate this outcome for you. Not only are you loosing your husband but your home. When was the last time you’ve even been in your universe?”

“Like a year ago for a mission…”

“Exactly! Even if things are over with Miguel, you have all of us here! I wish you could stay. I understand you leaving, I really do. I know a lot of us will try visiting you but I’m tied to Miguel…” You started to see how it clicked for her too that it’s most likely you might not see each other for a long time. “Even if a spider-person is visiting you I can’t just show up on their watch… It’ll go back to him and I know you wouldn’t want that. I know I’m an AI and I can’t hold real emotions but I mean it when I say I’m going to miss you.”

Tears poured down your cheeks as her words hit you. Going back to your universe is going to be a struggle. You have nothing there now. However nothing can compare to the pain of the outcome you’ve had with Miguel, and you needed out of here ASAP. Your mental health getting worse the longer you stay. Even the other spiders you have come to love can’t bring that spark back right now. You needed genuine time for yourself, even if it’s self destructive, instead of putting on a fake smile everyday here.

“Bye, Lyla.” You whispered. She nodded and waved her hand goodbye at you before disappearing. You took your watch off your wrist placing it on a nearby desk. With it you pulled the divorce paperwork out of your pocket neatly sealed and already signed on your half. Opening a portal you took your last glances at the place you spent so many loving memories in.

Tears blurred your vision as you stepped through the portal. Once your legs landed on a rooftop of a building in your dimension, you racked out full sobs falling to your knees.

You were always just the other woman.

—————————————————

Thank you so much for reading!! I know it was a longer one ~

would anyone like a part 2? If so anyone want a angsty or happy ending? I think it’ll be more in Miguel’s perspective as well!

EDIT: You can now read PART 2 here

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara imagine #atsv miguel #spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara angst #spiderman imagine #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #x reader #spiderman #fanfiction #miguel o’hara fanfiction #spiderman x reader

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solifloris · 2 months ago

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≡;-꒰ 𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒘𝒊𝒄𝒆

╰┈➤ ❝ zayne x afab!reader | VALENTINE'S EVENT !

tags : established relationship, light kisses, hurt/comfort, angst with fluff, reader has a bad day, kinda slight references to 'hidden motive', it's like if the "youtiful" series had no smut LMAO, use of pet names "love" "sweetheart". ((also... unedited... i finished this at like 2:30am... AHFNNSNF))

wc : 3k (haha......)

an : so i have. been on a bit of writer's block since i recovered from my sick week, but i did somehow get the urge to write something a little angsty… so this was actually the perfect request to work on and i had sm fun with this!! TYTYYY FOR REQUESTING @deepspacenova ILY <333 (also i know canonically valentine's day is azure's echo day but… for consistency we'll stick with valentine's :D)

taglist : under the cut! (SIGN UP HERE)

ko-fi jar / commissions

Valentine's Day wasn't supposed to go like this.

When you woke up, the space beside you was empty.

The curtains were drawn, and the room had been left relatively dark despite the little rays of sunshine peeking through. Comforting, in a sense, but—your hand reached out to run through the sheets beside you, now cold and devoid of the warmth of his presence. He'd left it like this on purpose; you knew that.

And it was quiet without him.

The kind of quiet that was loud, the kind of quiet that was uncomfortable.

Your eyes drifted towards the clock on the nightstand, and your heart sank at the realization—you'd slept in, and completely missed seeing him off. On Valentine's Day.

You'd both known from the start that he wouldn't be getting a day off despite the occasion, and you'd accepted it, but you had promised yourself to be present for him in the morning. What kind of girlfriend would let him leave just like that, right?

There was a note on the stand.

You reached out to grab it, and something about the emptiness in the bedroom made you feel so small. Even though you'd always been fond of the neutral colors surrounding you, they looked drearier and gloomier than they'd ever been. Your arms twitched with the urge to reach out for a hug—

There was no one there.

Good morning, sweetheart. Did you sleep well? I noticed you've been very tired lately, so please get some rest. Don't feel too bad that you didn't see me this morning. I'll be home in time for dinner, let me know when you wake up.

It was so sweet. So Zayne. Yet the heaviness in your heart didn't seem to lighten in the least, because the circumstances didn't change:

It was Valentine's Day. And you were spending it all alone.

In retrospect, you could never place the blame on your boyfriend. It had been this way from the start; you'd talked about it, accepted it, that with all of this came his busy schedules and the ever-present possibility that he would miss days like this without having much of a choice himself. You, yourself, weren't exempt to the setup, anyway—normally, your own work hours would have you out of the house in a similar manner. It was only that, this time… the mere prospect of having to spend a majority of the day alone with your thoughts had your skin crawling.

It had to be today.

It had to be now.

You could beg for a new work assignment to come in and save you from drowning, but you had been ordered to take a rest.

…Was this resting?

The air was stifling. You could breathe, but only barely.

You felt nailed to the bed, your head heavy, your body heavy, the tension in your shoulders nearly having you want to cry out if only you could muster a sound.

It had to be today.

It had to be now.

On Valentine's Day, the day of love. You would feel so pathetic, and needy, and so desperate to feel him next to you when you knew that it could not be so and you understood that this was simply the way things were. How they always have been. And it took every ounce of your energy to fight back the tears that were threatening to spill, because what kind of girlfriend would be like this, and why couldn't today be a day you felt normal?

You had to hastily wipe your tears with the sleeve of your sweater, and your hands reached for the phone next.

A simple good morning, a little how-are-you.

You would make yourself be normal today if you could help it.

So you did the only thing you could think of:

You redirected.

Pushing yourself out of bed was a task difficult enough to do, but you grit your teeth through it. Feet touched upon the soft carpet, footsteps padding across the room and towards the door. If you had the majority of the day to yourself, you could do something productive, couldn't you? You could still do that, couldn't you? You could still be the simplest, simplest form of a functioning human being… couldn't you?

A mantra repeated in your head as you made your way to the kitchen.

A list of things: you could clean, you could organize, you could read, you could play… You could cook something, maybe even bake, just so he could have some sort of surprise waiting when he got back.

It sounded like a good plan.

…

It was a difficult plan.

Deep breaths weren't enough to calm you down. Sure, every movement pulled you out of the rubble of your thoughts for a moment, allowed you to continue being for a moment. But a moment was merely a moment. And once that moment was over, then it was over. The wreckage dangling above your head would come crashing.

It was a terrifying, terrifying thing to be alone.

Every so often your eyes would drift towards your phone in hopes for a text; even a simple update, anything, anything—

You liked the quiet, but you liked it when he was around.

You liked the slowness of things, but you liked it when he was around.

On days like these, then only when all this empty space could be filled by the warmth of his presence… that was when everything else could be bearable.

And you stirred the cookie batter absentmindedly, only barely paying attention to what you were doing, when—

Ding!

Your heart jumped.

Immediately, you dropped the spatula back into bowl and turned towards your phone.

—heeeeyyyy, happy valentine's, bestieee!!! —hope you get to have a sweeeett, sweet time with your boyfie!

Ah.

Your racing heartbeat calmed down in slight disappointment; the last conversation you'd had with Zayne had been an hour ago, and you knew realistically enough not to expect another message so soon.

And, sure, you were disappointed, but… to Tara's defense, these texts still made you smile.

She sent a flurry more of messages; silly things, cute things, just a couple of somethings to leave in your chat log. You didn't know if she'd picked up on your own behavior being off at work, but you supposed that if Jenna had, then it was more likely that Tara hadn't overlooked it, either.

A thought rang suddenly in your mind, because you could spend the rest of your day with her. A glance at the time told you that it was only half past two in the afternoon, and you still had a couple of hours left before Zayne would be on his way home. If you were looking for a distraction, perhaps, a day out could have solved it, but—

Realization dawned.

You'd have to put on something pretty, spend a couple of minutes doing makeup. You'd have to speak with people, interact with them, seem normal to them… and then maybe, then, you'd be more conscious of the fact that you were blatantly masking in front of people you held close to your heart.

Vulnerability was a fickle thing.

Though you could desperately want to be so, it was difficult to know where to begin.

It was something to accept—you didn't have the energy to… be.

Not today.

Maybe Zayne was right; you did need to rest.

And the realization furthered in that really, truly, all that you wanted was to spend a moment curled up in his lap, maybe watch a movie, maybe sit in silence… Just enough to recharge, just enough to feel safe enough to be.

You wouldn't have had to think of anything else.

But, he wasn't… Here.

He wasn't here.

Hours passed by in a similar manner, then. A cycle of distracting yourself, and failing, and trying again, and failing… You had gotten a few things done, in your defense. The kitchen and the bedroom had both been cleaned spotless. Your newly-baked batch of chocolate-chip cookies sat to cool on the counter, a treat for your boyfriend, something to remind you of what day it was today. You were proud of yourself for it, of course; despite everything, you could still do a little something.

But the feeling in your chest, the heaviness of it, the burden you bore that you couldn't quite place, yourself… it was still there. Unmistakably, still there.

And then it was late.

Later than you knew his shift to be.

You glanced at your phone once, twice—thrice, and a few times more.

The message you'd sent had received no reply.

It must have been an emergency.

You understood; really, you understood. It was like this. He had no access to his phone when things were busy, and especially not when something had come up. You knew this. You knew.

And so you grabbed a blanket from the bedroom to drape over yourself, as you curled up on the couch.

You could wait.

You could.

…You could, right?

Surfing through channels proved easy enough.

Not that one.

No, not that one, either.

You huffed as each channel played a show that didn't particularly interest you, the sound of their dialogue merely causing you to be irritated rather than successfully distracted. You had little to no choice but to passively play on a show, lower the volume—and at this point, truly… it was difficult to take.

You curled up, drew your knees up to your chest.

The blanket smelled like him.

You could recall how often it had been like this; it had been busy at the hospital, as much as it had been busy at work… The two of you had barely any time to spend with each other these past few days, and undeniably it had started to take a toll on you.

Because it had to line up with the way that you'd been feeling.

Useless. Worthless. A little bit less like yourself.

Thoughts like these were easy to ignore when you had the capacity to, but you didn't anymore. Once again, the space around you was too big; too heavy; too much. It cemented on you all these feelings of helplessness, the way you were left in the middle of this cold, empty space with nothing to offer solace. It was pathetic to feel this way, you thought, but you no longer had the ability to rationalize it.

You didn't like it here without him.

You missed him—a feeling that had built up all these days spent away from each other.

And then the tears started to fall.

Silent tears, an occasional sniffle here and there… Your eyes glazed over as you continued to hug your knees to your chest, head resting upon them. You weren't focusing. The television remained what it was—white noise. You could barely remember what channel you had left it on in the first place.

Your phone lit up a couple of times.

You no longer noticed it.

—

A light shaking could be felt over your body.

It was a colder touch, you could feel it through even the blanket. Your eyes stirred open. Yet, truly, even before your gaze could focus enough on the figure next to you, you knew this touch.

Zayne.

He had his hand on your arm, having nudged you awake, and you could see the faint outline of a bouquet of flowers seated right next to him. Your favorites, no less.

In front of you, the television had been turned off, and a quick glance at your phone to the side showed several missed calls and texts from him. The time flashed as eight in the evening. You had fallen asleep. Your eyes were likely puffy, and you probably looked exhausted…

Yet, these things, despite how much you had noticed and despite how much you were still thinking—

They didn't matter anymore.

The moment of silence between you two, the way he didn't ask, the way he waited, the way he watched… A wave of understanding passed over the both of you before he pulled you into his arms, and that was it.

This was home.

It wasn't dark, and gloomy, and empty, and cold—

It was warm. Comforting. Full of his presence, just the way you had been longing it to be since you'd woken up. The smell of his cologne was one familiar enough to make you tighten your hold on him, make you snuggle deeper into his chest. It was secure. It was safe.

You'd missed him, truly.

And there was no need for words, not really. Instead, he stroked your hair, patiently, lovingly. A gentle kiss to the top of your head. A little reassuring squeeze of your hand.

"Zayne…"

"Mn. I'm here."

Another moment of stillness.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

You could still hear the faint ticking of the clock on the wall, but this time, it didn't bother you. Not when you could just as well hear the steady thrum of his heartbeat, not when his quiet words of reassurance could resound in your head like a lullaby.

And a stray tear fell.

Maybe, it was the relief of it. Maybe, it was how everything had bubbled up to crash into you like this.

But—

You lips trembled, and you cried.

You cried, and cried, and cried.

And it was such a stupid way to spend the day of love.

"You're… You're home, hic, I-I'm sorry, I didn't— hic— I fell asleep, a-and then—"

"Shh. It's okay, my love."

His voice was low. Soft.

"B-but I was… It's Valentine's Day, I should've…!"

"No, you do not owe me anything. On the contrary, I, too, have not been a satisfactory partner… I apologize, sweetheart. I wish I could have spent the day with you."

"It's… It's not your fault…"

"Then, it is not your fault, either."

He paused.

"You… feel unwell. You've been unwell. Haven't you? Aren't you?"

Slowly, gently, he coaxed your head up to look at him. His thumb raised, moving to wipe away your tears; to draw you closer by your chin and place a chaste kiss on the tip of your nose.

You sniffled slightly. "I… I didn't want to be needy… I know it's been busy at the hospital, and I thought I could manage, a-and I'm sorry, I know I should be more understanding! I-I should be better, be good, be someone who can give you the world like you deserve, be— something more worth of the comfort you give me, than this…"

The words flowed out before you could stop them, and, in the end, you appreciated that you could be vulnerable with him. But it still tore at your heart to have him listen. Because what if it was silly? What if it was stupid? In the back of your mind, even though you thought these things, you were hoping for him to tell you otherwise. And what would you do if he didn't? If he agreed with you? What if these words, these insecurities, would make him think less of you, or find it irritating, or…

You were spiraling.

You could see yourself drowning, reflected in the very window of his gaze.

But he gripped your shoulders—he wouldn't let you.

"I never asked for you to give me the world."

It was firm this time, and not necessarily gentle... Yet, the look in his eyes told you everything even before he spoke.

Slow, careful words, and his eyes never strayed from yours:

"All I've ever wanted was you."

Your breath hitched.

You waited, quiet, a little stunned; watched as he leaned in to give you a soft kiss. One to your forehead, one on your eyelids. Your cheek, the corner of your lips—

"I ask nothing of you, if only to know that you are okay. If only to know that you understand… that I will cherish you, and care for you, for as long as you are alive. Do you remember that?"

A memory stirred.

I should think about… how to live my life to the fullest. Because in this world, there's someone who'll like me for as long as I'm alive…

Those were your words.

A wave of warmth washed over you once more as he brought back memories from that day, one that, likely, was one that he thought of often himself.

"The moon…" he mumbled. Gently, he nudged your head sideways to allow you to glance out the window. He'd drawn the curtains back, and the night sky showed itself in full view to you. "Is beautiful tonight. Just as you are. Less than you are. Because you always shine brighter. And, to me… That is all of the world that I need."

"Zayne…"

"I bought you flowers, and I saw the cookies that you left on the table. However… how much you mean to me is not meant to be celebrated for simply one day of the year, and I don't plan to do that. I would celebrate it every day, every minute, every hour of my life. Besides… no matter how hectic things get, I will always want to see you."

This time, he pulled you back to him, gently easing his lips onto yours. A quick kiss, but a meaningful one. One that made the world disappear, your troubles disappear… at least, enough for you to focus on him, and all the love that he offered— to you.

"…Zayne?"

"Hm?"

"I love you."

You snuggled into his chest, curling into his warmth.

It felt lighter, now. Perhaps, not to be completely freed from the chains you had put on yourself, but… it felt lighter. More bearable. No longer suffocating.

No longer difficult.

"I love you," you repeated. You would whisper the words, quiet as you focused on his heartbeat. "I love you, twice… thrice… and more times… Because saying it once wouldn't be enough."

"And I love you, sweetheart." Once more, he pressed his lips to the crown of your head. "Twice, and thrice, and more. And, for tonight… We can do whatever you want. My time is all yours."

And perhaps, you thought, he was your world just as much as you were his.

taglist: @pixelcafe-network @hunters-association @darlingdummycassandra @daturasflower @thoupenguinman @valyvinny @rafayelsheart @jellyroom2 @chemiru @ywnzn @pepprrmint @angel-jupiter @cordidy @raiyuxa @xai-mery @oharasmommymilkers00 @pikachuzhc @fackeraccount @rafayelsgf @iloveboysinred @rafslvr @spotted-salamander @venussakura @love-and-deepstrays @evilgojo @keioxo @Zaynes-jasmine @~Air_Heart~ @keymeadoww @rowazuhime15 @strwbrychffoncke

© solifloris. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

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wakayrd · 2 months ago

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More theatre stuff! I've started to put all the theatre doodles I do under a tag called "isat curtain call" because I wanted to be organized lol

MIRABELLE! Mirabelle is kind of a powerhouse at the theatre. She acts in a lot of the plays they put on (and gets really nervous before going on stage). She has lots of folks who are her neighbors or friends who attend shows and always overwhelm her with tons of flowers. She appreciates it but it can be a bit much! She's always around to help- She will show up for set construction, set decor, lighting design... anything- and all on top of acting! She's even the theatre's health and safety rep! (the little bit at the bottom is inspired by true events... yeah...)

Bonnie!! Bonnie started volunteering with the theatre recently after coming to see a pantomime for Peter Pan. They love to help out with the snack bar, and even wear nice clothing for the shows to look all professional. They also usher sometimes! All with adult supervision of course. They are allowed to come help with set decor (painting the set!) but NOT set construction. They sometimes convince their older sister to stop by the theatre when everyone else is working to drop off homemade goodies. They also like to hang out in the sound/light booth, the stage looks so different from up there! They're close with Odile, who shows them a ton of stuff. They hope that sometime they can also start doing the light cues during a show. They don't want to work near Siffrin backstage, even though that's something they could perhaps start doing now.

Sometimes... it feels like there's something in the theatre, hanging out in the catwalks, judging silently. Maybe... someone... But if you turn around to see them, they're gone! The theatre might be haunted, who knows. That seems the most plausible theory... Siffrin tends to spend a lot of time on the catwalks as well. Perhaps he'd know more about this mysterious spirit of the theatre?

The Spirit of the Theatre! (Loop!) They're always around. They're actually convinced that they're not able to leave the theatre. The hat? They stole it from the costume room! It makes hiding that glow ever so easy- Sometimes they steal coats or matching robes from there, just to make hiding easier. They're so knowledgeable in all things theatre, especially the theatre the group operates out of. Sometimes they spend their time alone at the theatre straightening up the props room or making sure all the actor's props and costumes are in their proper places. It really seems like they consider themselves an integral (and invisible) part of the team. They like to watch from afar, that's all. Meeting Siffrin was an accident, one that The Spirit of the Theatre couldn't avoid. Now they have to deal with Siffrin coming to talk to them often, even looking for advice. It's unclear how long they've been there, and when asked for a name, will only say they're the "Spirit of the Theatre."

And that's it from me today I promise I am normal lol I am having fun watching this all form in front of my eyes a little. It's mostly silly goofy stuff and as much as I'd love to stick to canon best I can, I may have to fiddle with it to get it to make sense... especially for Loop :) but if you have any ideas or stuff my inbox is so open I love talking about this- these drawings were stacked up from the last couple of days just me preparing to post... teehee!!

#isat #in stars and time #isat curtain call #isat mirabelle #isat bonnie #isat loop #isat siffrin #isat spoilers #isat au #dont worry im also evil and will be doing evil things #waka art

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yourmidnightlover · 1 year ago

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the sun

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: after the events of the snap, you find out news that's both heart wrenching and warming. what happens five years later when bucky's back?

warnings: death, mourning, pregnancy, childbirth, canon-typical violence (not much but just adding to cover all the bases), loosely based on end game and infinity war (as in ignore my mistakes lmaooo), if i failed to mention any warnings PLEASE LET ME KNOW!

wc: 2.6k

a/n: dude idk why i've had an urge to write such heart wrenching angst lately. i'm actually in a decent place rn. i tried to cut this fic down bc originally it was SOOOO long i felt like a lot of it was just filler and i feel like shorter fics of mine tend to do better... ANYWHO! this does have a happy/hopeful ending so no worries! also picturing this beefcake for this story is AGHHHHHHH!

you never thought two lines on a stick could ever break your heart the way they did.

tears clouded your vision as you gripped the counter, trying not to crumble or succumb to your grief.

6 weeks ago, the avengers lost. everything.

half of the world, gone in a moment.

in one moment, your world collapsed. seeing bucky fade to dust right in front of you...

sobs wracked through your body as you crumbled to the ground.

this was supposed to be a happy moment. there should be tears of joy, not sobs of sorrow. your heart should feel full of love, not like there's a super-soldier sized hole in it.

"y/n," nat's voice rang outside the door, giving you a moment to yourself.

"just-," you tried to level your breathing before she opened the door, knowing but not understanding the grief you were feeling.

she wrapped her arms around your body, tucking your head into her neck as she gently rubbed your back soothingly. steve leaned against the bathroom door, glancing on the counter to see what they had all expected.

a positive pregnancy test.

you were having bucky's baby.

without bucky.

you gripped his dog tags that you had been wearing since the funeral. they were the only thing that could truly ground you.

they brought back happy memories of cuddling in bed, the cool metal shocking your skin for only a moment before realizing that it was only bucky and smiling at the memory.

god, it hadn't even been two months.

how were you supposed to do this alone?

"we're here for you," steve's voice called from the doorway, as if he could hear your thoughts. "you'll never be alone. not in this... not ever." he shook his head, his brows furrowed in a serious, straight line.

eventually, your sobs subsided. you stood with nat from your seat on the ground, wiping your own eyes mustering up a pathetic smile before she left you and steve to work out your grief together.

"we didn't even know it was possible," you shrugged. "it's like he sent me them..." you placed your hand on an invisible bump before facing steve, his teary eyes reminding you that he had lost his best friend, too. "he sent us this baby."

you reached your hand out for steve to hold. he took it gratefully and pulled you into his arms, hugging you tight and letting only a few tears slip his waterline before pulling back.

"if you'll let me, i want to be there for you for everything," his chin wobbled. "buck would kick my ass if i let you go through this alone." a genuine laugh left your lips for the first time in nearly two months.

"i would be so grateful for that," you nodded as you let go of his arms. "part of me still can't believe that it's real. it's like part of me still expects him to walk into the compound from a long mission or something..." you shook your head. "i know that sounds so stupid."

"it's not," he shook his head with a smile. "it's what i wish was true, maybe it's your subconscious trying to preserve your mind?"

"maybe," you shrugged before continuing, "i should probably talk to tony and bruce, huh?"

you knew you were around eight weeks along.

according to the doctors' tony had enlisted, however, you were already 12 weeks along, which was impossible.

bucky had been gone on a mission at that time... but it's whatever. you got to hear the heartbeat. steve went with you, too. you both bawled together. you kept three copies of the ultrasound and he kept two.

banner had already offered to do some testing on the dna of the baby, noting that the serum would likely affect the pregnancy (as it probably already has).

you had talked to tony about retiring from the whole superhero gig for the time being. you needed to mourn and prepare for a new life simultaneously. tony had promised to provide anything you needed at the drop of a hat, and he sure as hell delivered.

within no time, your pregnancy was being measured at 20 weeks while only being pregnant for 12. banner was concerned for your body's ability to keep up with the rapid rate of growth of the baby. he had you on a strict, hefty diet with two different prenatal vitamins in attempt to help your nutrition.

in spite of your best efforts, you were always exhausted and in pain. but you wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. this was bucky's baby. you didn't care how much pain you went through when you had half of him growing inside of you.

you couldn't walk for long without feeling like passing out, which banner chalked up to low iron. steve had grown progressively more worried for you and the baby the longer the pregnancy went on.

as a result, he had moved into the spare room that was in your and bucky's house. truly, it just made it easier for him to help you finish up the nursery anyway.

he was very handy about it all, painting, building furniture from scratch, the whole deal.

"i've been thinking... and if it's a girl, i want to name her evangeline james barnes," you informed steve as you ate the steak he had been making for the past few weeks of your pregnancy, as ordered by dr. banner. that with carrots, broccoli, potatoes, and for dessert strawberries, blueberries and raspberries over ice cream. "and if it's a boy, cyrus james barnes. evangeline means good news, and cyrus means sun."

steve placed his hand over yours, "i think buck would've loved them." he smiled warmly as you downed the food in a few minutes.

you had begun showing soon after you found out you were pregnant, but now, it felt like it was impossible to hide. nat had been wonderful about helping you keep up with the changes your body was going through, getting you new maternity clothes every week.

she even made sure to get you every single craving that wasn't in accordance to banner's hefty diet. not that he didn't want you to eat more, he thought it was best you did! but he also wanted to make sure that with all that you did eat, your body got as many nutrients as possible.

just to be safe, he kept you on other vitamin supplements anyway.

you couldn't help but imagine what bucky would say or do about everything now.

he would hold your body closely, pressing firm kisses to your bump every chance he could get while whispering some sickly sweet sayings to your unborn child, words that would melt the winter soldier's cold exterior.

he would whisper words of encouragement any moment you felt worried about your abilities to be a mom. he would say how beautiful you were, in spite of being bloated in places you didn't know could bloat.

he would be wonderful, and in your mind, he was still alive and vibrant. well, as vibrant as bucky ever was, at least.

truthfully, that's the only way you were able to keep going on like this. steve was wonderful, but you couldn't help but want the love of your life by your side as you tried to navigate this new chapter.

in a couple more weeks, you were projected to be at 32 weeks. bruce and tony were talking with your doctors about the safety of inducing so early, both for you and the baby.

oh, and you wanted the gender to be a surprise.

and within the week, you were having your baby.

steve and nat were by your side during the birth, whispering encouraging words and compliments of your strength.

"i need him!" you screamed in pain as you held one of each of their hands, sobbing in agony. "i need james! i need my bucky! i can't do this alone, i can't-i can't!"

"you can," nat reminded you. "this baby needs you," she held your face to look at hers. "bucky is a part of this baby." you swore you could see tears in her eyes before turning to face steve.

"remember what you told me when you found out you were pregnant?" he didn't bother wiping the tears from his face. "bucky sent you-sent us this baby. he knows you can do it." you sniffled before nodding at your two best friends, pushing with one last scream and a second later, you had...

"cyrus james barnes," the nurse called to you. "it's a boy, congratulations mom."

the next few years went by quicker than you could've ever imagined.

crawling, first words, first steps...

you missed bucky. not a day passed where you didn't miss him.

but, having cy helped a lot. he looked just like his father. dark brown hair, icy blue eyes, a cute little nose... not to mention his father's stubbornness.

you made sure he knew who his father was. you took him to the museum often, showing him the statue of his father and his background in the world war, him saving the world so much. you told him how you fell in love with him.

how you fell for the quiet man before ever really talking to him. how you were partners on a long-term, undercover mission and that's where your love ignited from the sparks.

not that cy understood any of what you told him. you just felt it was important to know that his parents loved him, and each other dearly.

you never took off his dog tags, either.

steve was a huge help the whole time. he kept working for the avengers, so he was gone often, but he provided a good male role model for cyrus. after all, he was his uncle steve. he already taught him how to throw a ball, albeit a little softball, but it counts!

you made sure to document everything that went on in yours and cyrus's life.

banner had said that cyrus was growing at an exceeding rate, but nothing to be concerned about. in fact, cyrus was turning five in almost half a year, meaning the anniversary of bucky's death, or disappearance or whatever you called it, was coming up.

then, you got a call from tony and banner.

it all happened so quickly, from testing to planning to the execution. pepper watched cyrus for you while you went back with steve, scott, and tony to get the tesseract.

of course, the men being men had to come upon a few hiccups, but eventually, after going as far back as the 70s, you brought back the tesseract.

the only thing is that nat never came back...

next thing you know, bruce is snapping his fingers and clint is getting a call from his supposedly deceased wife. your eyes fill with tears, hands searching in your pockets for your phone to see if you've gotten anything yet.

is it possible he wasn't brought back? he was the first to... disintegrate. die. maybe that meant something in the eyes of the stones?

then, you felt a buzz in your hand.

although, you didn't have any time to try to grasp what that meant, because more aliens came to earth.

shocker.

after yet another war, one that you weren't even prepared for, after losing more people, again. after losing tony...

but amidst the chaos of the aftermath of the fight, with screams of joy and shock and grief surrounding you, tears streaming down your face, your eyes met the blue ones you only saw in your son.

he slowly walked towards you as the tears sped up. you didn't even realize when your feet began running towards him.

when his arms wrapped around your waist, you finally felt the home you thought you had come to terms with never feeling again. your arms wrapped around his neck, your face buried in his shoulder as you breathed in the scent of gunmetal that had overtaken him in the battle.

"oh my god," you cried into the leather of his jacket. he lifted you off the ground, your legs wrapping around his waist as you felt his smile on your cheek. "i can't believe you're really here."

"i'm here, doll," his hands cradled your head so tenderly. "i'm not ever leaving again. never."

you pulled back before your eyes widened in realization. "you've gotta meet someone, jamie."

his brows furrowed in confusion, just smiling and nodding along with whatever you said.

within the next few hours, simply being held by bucky before steve stole him away with a hug, you finally brought him home.

"so, steve moved in," you started as you pulled your car into the driveway, turning to see bucky looking at you with an incredulous look. "you'll see why." you reached to hold his hand before he brought yours to his lips, pressing a kiss there.

you told him to wait in the car as you went inside to relieve the babysitter for cyrus. after giving him some cash, he went outside, knocking on your car window to let bucky know he should make his way inside.

upon entering, he saw you sitting on the floor with a little boy with striking blue eyes that seemed so familiar to him. his nose, too. his lips though, they were all yours. he had a slight grin plastered on his lips, one that matched yours to a t.

"daddy?" suddenly, it all clicked.

his heart, his mind, his fucking soul, everything made sense now. the pain, hydra, the mind washing, the torture.

meeting you. falling in love. dying?

his son.

he started walking closer to bucky before the steady walk turned into a run. bucky knelt down, wrapping the boy in his arms, cradling his tiny frame in his arms protectively. his son.

"cyrus james barnes," you said with a teary smile on your face. bucky, without breaking the hug with his son, looked up at you with a smile that matched yours. "cyrus means 'sun', and i thought it was fitting. he brought me so much light and hope after you..." you choked up before he stood up with cy in his arms, walking towards you before wrapping you in the big, family hug.

"i love you so much, both of you."

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #james bucky barnes #marvel #sargeant barnes #bucky #sargeant james barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes #james barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes hurt/comfort #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes whump #bucky x avenger!reader #bucky x fem!reader #dad!bucky

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sideysvault · 8 months ago

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ೀ｡˚ Patching Deadpool up years after he left you ೀ⋆｡˚

Pairing: Wade Wilson x fem!reader

Part two here

Wordcount: 2,9k

Tags: Canon typical violence, angst with a happy ending.

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The rusty silver plate read in an almost playful manner “The sisters Margaret home for wayward children”. It was a colorful name, and it belonged to a not so colorful bar. That was the place where the two of you had met.

Back then, you were nothing more than a student. Constantly struggling to manage the very limited funding given to you. All you wanted was to finish your thesis, get your master’s degree, and make it to the end of the month. Your paychecks had cornered you into the only half decent apartment you could rent: The one built in the shittiest neighborhood in town, in a building held up solely by divine grace and poor construction.

That particular night was the end of an extremely rough week. Work piled up, homesickness struck you every time you had a chance to relax and think, and you were the living proof that nobody could make any meaningful connections if you only strictly went to work and home with no rest in between.

And for Christ’s sake, you hated to admit it, but you really missed home and the crippling suspicion that you were close to breaking down was settling in.

The only logical next step you could take popped into your head just as you were walking into your neighborhood. You needed to blow off some steam. Have a drink. Or two. Or three. So, your steps seemingly redirected themselves towards that ugly bar that was close to your uglier apartment. Sure, it seemed super sketchy. But right this second, all you needed was to get a drink.

Wade was in that bar too. As he usually was. He immediately took notice of the woman who seemed clearly out of place. You looked like some kind of stuck up librarian. And it was obvious that your mood was extraordinarily dispirited. Sitting there staring at the wall with a piercing stare. Paying no mind to the environment you were in. Furrowed eyebrows adorned your face seemed concerned. Before Wade even realized what he was doing, he found himself striking a conversation with you.

He tried to reason with himself. There were no ulterior motives, no meaning behind his accretion. Wade has always had a soft spot for damsels in distress. And you were hot as fuck. Nothing else.

“What's a nice place like you doing in a girl like this?”

Strangely, that's all it took to make you laugh. The absurdity of the corny comment immediately got to you and a loud burst of laughter came out of your mouth. Wade's face softened with a certain sense of pride when he saw he could make you laugh.

The stuck up girl with a stick up on her ass had just let out not a forced and polite giggle, but an all teeth and gums type of laugh.

The poorly dim light in the bar did not stop him from trying to take all your features in. And a sense of warmth began to surface under his skin. He was the one who made your night better.

Ever since the event, you would visit that horrid place regularly. Only to see the charming guy who would make you laugh. Your little hangouts quickly evolved into something more. A friendship of sorts. He would walk you home when you stayed late working. “To protect you from all the homicidal freaks”. Wade would take you on private tours around the city, so its streets wouldn't feel so foreign to you. He could notice that you genuinely had a great time whenever he was around. And that was all he needed to keep showing up.

One late night, laughter turned into teasing, which transformed to kissing, which later turned into a hookup that evolved into having sex on a regular basis and going out routinely. Wade and you couldn't be more different, it was true. But it seemed to be the key to your relationship. You guys clicked together, balancing each other out.

The insidious realization came to you on a random afternoon. You were in love with Wade Wilson. And he probably felt the same for you.

As cruel as life is, something terrible happened. Just as things were getting serious between the two of you, on one cursed night, he just decided to pick up all of his things from your apartment and leave. All Wade left behind was a tiny note stating that he had terminal cancer and that he loved you. With a little doodle of a heart with crossed out eyes and a tongue sticking out of its mouth.

You were out doing research the first time he fainted. A full-time professor had the kindness to name you as a co-author in an important research paper that was being published in some big shot magazine. Wade felt extremely proud of you. On some late nights he couldn't believe that a woman like you could be head over heels a low stakes hit-man.

The decision felt simple at the time. He ran straight to the clinic and never told you about the incident. Wondering why he would bother you with something that was probably nothing. On that day, in a confined room with sterile air, with its gray walls and the constant sound of the old air conditioner, that’s where the doctor hit him with the whole terminal cancer ordeal. Wade knew you would automatically make a billion plans and extensive research. He knew you'd stay with him all the way through the end. Even if it affected your career, even if it would wreck you emotionally, even if your routine together was reduced to a mere nurse-client relationship, you would stay with him all the way. That was the reason he had fallen in love with you after all.

So, he made a choice. Albeit, one that was a little less simple. He was leaving before tarnishing your life, your memory of him and your time together with his sickness. He couldn't do that to you. The woman who actually had goals. And a shot for a promising future. If he told you about the situation, Wade was certain that he wouldn't have the heart to say no to you. He would stay. And you'd forever remember him as a lost puppy who you loved but had to put down mercifully.

The other option was to be the asshole who left. But he could live on your memory forever. As the person he once was. So that was that.

━━━━━━━━━

You decided to take a shortcut to your newly renovated home. You were wearing your favorite heels today. And they really weren't walking shoes. Brand new, stiff, and ridiculously blue. The scrappy and dark alleyway was well illuminated, and it would take you directly into the street your building was in. After weighing the options, you decided it was safe enough to make a run for it.

The loud noises that you increasingly heard coming from the dumpster worried you. The dumpster was located just before being able to get out of that creepy lane, and you tried to stop the flux of thoughts about homicidal maniacs that suddenly plagued your mind. But, the thought of injured animals that people abandoned on the street came to you as well. Getting closer, hearing the early sound of the echoed of your shoes against the cement, you tried to swallow your fear. Something in there could really need a vet.

But there was a mutilated man wearing a red suit. You instinctively froze and began to step back, the scene was so gruesome that you were sure you would puke on the body and ruin the DNA evidence. Just as you were typing the emergency number on your phone you heard that voice.

“Bad Deadpool” it mumbled. You heard some nonsensical phrases before you could make out a “Fuck. That was, like, my favorite arm”

Your heart began to pound so strongly you could practically feel it on your ears.

He hadn't noticed you yet, continuing to lose a shit ton of blood and trying to balance himself upward without the missing limbs and several shot wounds.

Not without a second thought, you ran to help him stand up. As soon as he felt your firm touch, he turned around violently, holding a defensive position. But the man in the red suit stopped dead in his tracks when he saw you were the one holding him.

This was not the neighborhood you used to live in.

You sighed at the sight and quickly took him back to your apartment. You knew it was him. Not only that, but you were sure of it. The lame jokes had given it away. And that voice had haunted you for a long time. You'd recognize him anywhere. His remaining arm felt the same, the inflections of his tired voice sounded the same, and the shock he’d felt at seeing you was indisputable belonging to him. You had heard rumors about the red suit. But never wondered who could be behind the mask. Wade was supposed to be dead by now, anyway.

Wade, on the other hand, was focusing on not making a sound. He really hoped breaking your heart had left you clinically insane. Insane enough to rescue random mutilated men off the street.

As soon as you entered the apartment it became tainted with carnage. A trail of crimson red adorned your freshly painted white snow walls. Little chunks of skin would occasionally fall. Accompanying the already gruesome blood. Your heels had been lost somewhere along the way and with great effort you had managed to throw him into a bed that he wasn't yet familiar with.

Fuck it. As if losing an arm and a leg wasn't enough. This was breathtakingly fucked.

The shock left your body as soon as you saw your not-dead ex-boyfriend mutilated on your bed. And shock was the only thing keeping you together.

By that moment he was certain you knew it was him. Your eyes began to tear up at the sight of his wounded body, your cheeks were trembling with fear, or disgust, or a combination of both. Before he could try to get up, a pool of blood came shooting out of his mouth without warning. Some of it must have filtered through the mask because you somehow looked more terrified than before. He felt dizzy. And before Wade could do anything about it, you took out his mask on a whim to try to avoid him choking on his own blood. And that was it. All that pain, all the abandonment, the secrecy. It all meant nothing now. You had seen his face.

You were definitely taken aback. And he felt his heart break a little when you instinctively removed her hand from his face. You swallowed with difficulty, shook your head and got up. There were more pressing matters at hand. You had heard things about the vigilante regenerating. But you weren't taking any chances. Not with Wade. Never again.

It didn't matter how fucked up he looked now. He took the opportunity of you leaving the room to put his mask back on as quickly as he could. As he was trying to process everything that had just happened, through the door he could see your crying face moving up and down around the apartment. And there you were. Carrying it all into the bedroom.

It was a massive, fancy emergency kit that you had saved up for back in the day. When he was still beating bad guys for money and living with you. You had kept it all this time. And it was still perfectly stocked.

Wade couldn't lift his gaze to meet yours. But he noticed that you seemed relatively unfazed by his new face now. Or by the fact that you had seen him lacking two limbs and with some extra holes. The tears had stopped, but the mortifying look on your face never left. You always knew what he did for a living, you weren’t stupid. But he had always managed to keep it out of home. Or at least he tried to. Never to this extent. You weren't really used to it.

After all he had faced, he thought he did not need any care anymore. Just his healing, getting high and his unicorn. After all, his body would mend all the damage he had done to it and grow itself back together. But it still hurts. And you still tried to make it better. You begin to patch him up as best as you can, taking your time disinfecting, sewing, and fixing him. He knew you well enough to be absolutely certain that you were trying not to gag at the sight of the wounds. And he appreciated your efforts.

When you finished, you softly traced your fingernails on his bandages. He was too tired to talk. And you were still too shocked. How the fuck is he still alive after those injuries? What had happened to him after all these years?

Without saying a word you got up and went straight to the kitchen. You returned after some time, with his favorite tea, soup, and all the analgesics you could find. Your kindness gave him courage to stop being such a weak pussy and actually try to talk to you. You had seen him. Even if you wouldn't want anything to do anymore, the worst had passed.

“So… Sorry about your walls. Didn't know you had a fancy place now. I would've totally died in another alleyway, I promise. And, sorry, for-uhm, you know. The character shattering abandonment”

He coughed some blood. You just furrowed your eyebrows and as slowly as you could, so he could actually stop you this time if that was what he wanted, you removed his mask again. Your eyes pierced him with earnest intensity.

“You are a fucking asshole. And I fucking hate you. And I'm so glad you are alive”

"I know, I know, baby. And thank you for going all Mother Teresa on me. Well, wrong comparison. But, yeah. I'll be okay in no time. It's hard to explain right now. But, I will do right by you and paint your walls bright white when my leg and everything grows back! Pinky promise. I'll also buy you new shoes. It's kinda gross that you are footless. Or, well, it could be h-”

“Oh my lord, Wade. Just shut up and get some rest. Eat when you feel better. And scream if you need something”

And just when you were about to leave the room he softly said “Hey. I'm sorry. I-, I didn't want to bring you onto the whole cancer show. I was going to fix myself and come back. And then everything got fucked. I couldn't let you see me like this. Understand that. I'm a monster now. Inside out. I would have never left if there had been a way of staying without ruining your life”

You just looked at him for a long moment. Tears began to appear in your eyes, threatening to come out again. As soon as he saw your face, he immediately tried to lighten up the mood. “Hey, how long have you been obsessed with me?

Still keeping that old thing?” He said as he gestured at the now empty emergency kit.

He didn't have the heart to explain to you that it was a waste in him.

Saying nothing in response to Wade's dumb joke, you just rolled your eyes. Hearing him talk that way about himself hurt your soul. You couldn't help yourself anymore, so you walked towards the injured man with tears running down your face. You sat down on a chair beside the bed and rested your head on his lap.

He called your name softly “there's no need to cry. I know I belong to a fucking circus, but this is getting a little offensive" Wade finally got a chuckle out of you. You smile at him and wipe out your tears. Wade winces slightly when you tenderly leave a kiss on his forehead. He feels ashamed of the tact his ruined skin probably had left on your soft lips. It has truly been so long. You notice how he reacts. So you put your hands around his face and gently kiss each of his cheeks, and then the bridge of his nose. As softly as you can.

"I'll go now before you make some lame Greek kiss joke. Get some rest. We'll talk in the morning. I know you are sorry.” With a more serious voice, you added.

“Just no more running away in the middle of the night. Okay?”

Wade softens. He really missed you. As much as he liked Al's old ass, his true home was with you. Even after all these years. Even after what he did to you. Even with how he looked. Wade was certain he would be able to sleep soundly for the first time in years. He was safe now.

“Never again. I promise. I'll do right by you. Okay? We'll be friends with a ton of disgusting unexplored sexual tension in no time and who knows where that could lead to”

You laughed again. And there it was. His favorite sound in the world. It sounded just like the first time he heard it all those years ago.

"By the way, you do owe me those heels. And white walls. You pinky promised it. Oh, and you also owe me the biggest fucking explanation of the century.”

“Sounds like a start to me”

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Notes: OMG my first big one! I’m excited to post this. I hope it makes sense, if it doesn’t, feedback is always welcomed! -Sidey xxo

[Edited on October 2024! This was poorly written and I was fully proud of it 😭 shoutout to @nikkiwho, who I fixed this fit for] btw, I’m working on your request for part two even if it’s been a while! Hope you like it.

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rageserenity · 1 year ago

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It's 2024. Are you still thinking about movieverse!Cherik? Because I am.

For the past several months, there's only been a very slow trickle of posts/fics in the xmcu cherik tag. Let's try to breathe some life back into this incredible pairing!

With one clear winner of my poll, here's thirty prompts for the thirty days of April. (This is a super chill, laid-back event---do these in any order, interpret them as loosely as you like! Create in any medium! Fic, art, gifs, meta, incoherent screaming about the otp…all winners in my book.)

The only rule here is to cherik too close to the sun. Alright. Here are the prompts.

Mutual Pining

Doesn't really even need elaboration! Write that horrifically slow slow-burn. Gif every time McAvoy made insane fuck me eyes on screen. Make a playlist of songs about impossible love.

2. Alternate Meetings

There are endless quotes about how these two complete each other in a way no one they'd met before or after ever did. How else could they have met?

3. Erik Has A Telepathy Kink

This is basically canon. Let my boy get freaky!

4. Canon Fix-It

All the times Fox fucked it up. There are endless options.

5. Hurt/Comfort

Put them in that Situation. Put them in that Blender. Break them apart and put them back together ❤️‍🩹

6. Canon Compliant

Draw that missing scene! Gif your favourite cherik moment!

7. Beach Divorce

Make it worse. Make it better. Show it to us exactly how it was. Break it down in a 3,000 word meta. Go wild!

8. Domestics

Sometimes you just want to see them doing normal couple things. Erik put the gun down.

9. Found Family

The real heart of x-men!

10. Time Travel

There are SO many possibilities here. Stick them in a time loop. Give them a chance to change their past.

11. AU

Love a good AU!

12. There Is Only One Bed

Had to get this one in here. What better way to amp up the tension?

13. Genosha

By some miracle, cherik actually did end up together at the end of 2019s trash bag disaster Dark Phoenix. We aren’t making a big enough deal about this.

14. Declaration(s) of Love

Who says it first? How do they say it and when? Have they said it…without saying it?

15. Jealousy

Need I say more.

16. Reunion

These two have absolutely no chill.

17. Soulmates

Classic prompt, had to get this in here too.

18. The DOFP Aircraft

The TENSION here. Break it down for me. How does Charles feel about his injury? How does Erik feel about his injury?

19. Gay Mutant Road Trip

You already know.

20. Body Swap

SO fun when people have superpowers.

21. First Kiss

When? How? Who initiated it?

22. The Mansion

Mansion!content is a genre of its own.

23. Conflicting Ideology

Give me your theses. Who’s right? Can they ever reconcile completely? Write a fic where it drives them apart.

24. Sebastian Shaw

A trope unto himself.

25. Team As Matchmaker

They had to have known something was going on, didn’t they?

26. Cooking

Charles deserves a good meal. Also, imagine Erik using his powers in the kitchen. The sheer domesticity…

27. Hurt No Comfort

Plenty of scope with these two 🥲

28. Growing Old Together

Giving Sirs Ian Mckellan and Patrick Stewart their props as well!

29. Making Up

*pushes chess board across the table* sorry babe

30. Charles Xavier Did More For Mutants Than You'll Ever Know

Rising to each other’s defense. Only I can insult this man.

I will be tracking #revivecherik to reblog stuff! Here’s a fic collection for the same. Let’s get this ball rolling! Please feel free to send me an ask if you’ve got anything to say! And most importantly, let’s all have fun 😁

*I know a few of you preferred something like a gift exchange because of the commitment factor—I’m super down to organise a tiny one for the handful of us! If this promptathon doesn’t flop horribly, we can hopefully do a whole bunch of stuff :)

If you read this post all the way through, please reblog for reach! Thank you! Hoping you participate come April.

Shoutout to @inmymagnetoera for reaching out and helping with this!

#revivecherik #cherik #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr #xmfc #james mcavoy #michael fassbender #x men days of future past #x men #charles x erik #magneto #professor x

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sunnysidesevenup · 4 months ago

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OMG IT HAPPENED??? 300 FOLLOWERS?? I know I’ve been joking about hitting it but I genuinely can’t believe it like: you all like my shenanigans? truly? That’s incredible.

It’s kind of awesome that I hit this on new year’s (for me at least) so let me just take a moment to thank everyone who’s been so cool and supportive. I’ve been having a ton of fun sharing my little projects and interacting with everyone 😭 This is my first time truly engaging in fandom because I’ve been too anxious and depressed previously—I’m so happy I finally started putting myself out there.

ANYWAYS, DONE WITH THE SAPPY STUFF NOW. It’s time for the thing you’re actually here for!! I’ve put a TON of work into it so I really hope people enjoy this silly little event.

Everend’s Cove: Moonlight Song

Every year, Arlo Wake’s hometown holds a Moonlight Festival—in honor of the connection between the moon and the ocean, and the deep ties it has to certain merfolk cultures. This festival is held in many parts of the Coral Sea, but is specifically popular in Everend Cove for its special tradition of holding a singing competition in honor of one of the town’s myths.

As the myth goes, a group of sirens once fell in love with a human boy—so much so that in a selfless act, they saved the boy’s friend from drowning, a young girl whom he was in love with. The competition honors the spirit of love and selflessness, and the nature of the sirens.

Much to Arlo’s horror, his siblings have signed him up for the Moonlight Song competition this year. There’s no way he’s going alone, though. If he has to sing, then he’s forcing some of his classmates to come with him—that way, the attention won’t be fully on him.

Dress Code:

Arlo Wake’s parents are skilled potion masters by trade, and they’ve devised a special, experimental potion this year to turn tourists into merfolk temporarily! It might have a few side effects, but they assure you—any harm the potion causes will be thoroughly compensated!

If you don’t want to risk the potion, there’s always some traditional attire the festival provides. Everend Cove is a joint merfolk and human town, based right around an island, so there’s plenty of things to do both on land and in the sea! The important part of the Moonlight Festival is that you are adorned with sparkling stones and crystals. The more glamorous and mesmerizing the outfit, the better!

For better reference, here are some inspiration boards, and some concept art of possible outfits:

Rules:

it’s not at all necessary to be following me to participate in this event! ANYONE is welcome to join!

Any type of entry is welcome: cards, general art, edits, fics, anything!

It’s not required to use the backgrounds I made, I simply thought it would be fun to draw one ^^

If you don’t want to link your character to my oc, don’t worry about it! It’s not necessary to follow the event story, you can still have fun with the outfits and aesthetic if you want, I don’t mind at all!

If you WOULD like your oc to interact with Arlo, feel free! You have my permission.

You can draw/write for your own character OR a canon character, whatever you want <3 there are “official” participants, but this is all for fun, so it’s not necessary to stick to those.

Please tag me and use #Moonlight Song Competition with your entry so I can properly gush about it ^^

There is NO DEADLINE on this event! Go crazy!

Backgrounds for the SR Cards:

Featured Characters:

SSR Arlo Wake

SR Vil Schoenheit

SR Lilia Vanrouge

R Cater Diamond

SR Joseph Akaba

SSR Flori Mohn-Prinz

>>> Flori and Arlo seeing people’s… questionable singing skills.

SR Peony

Blanche, Mattie and Agate

SR AJ

SR Esra Gryfith

Reese & Kiki sketches

Kiki Groovy

SR Otto Walsh

>>> Otto & Esra doodle

SSR Kyra Lovelace

Mariette sketch!!

Rose outfit!

SR Alice | GROOVY

SSR Yuri

SSR Marina

SR Yuuna Schariac

SSR Talus

SSR Amai Sakura

SSR Cadbury Schweetz | GROOVY

SR Emery

SSR Morticia Dame

SR Patricia Catherine

Fic!!!

Yuri and Arlo Fic!!!

Arlo and Yuri Drabble!!! READ THIS ONE TOO IF YOU READ THE ABOVE ONE PLS 🥺 READ BOTH OF THEM

Fic featuring Mouse and Alise!!! READ THESE IM SO SERIOUS RIGHT NOW GUYS.

#ITS TIME.#HAPPY NEW YEARS AND HAPPY CREATING #twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst oc #twst original character #twst fanart #arlo wake oc #twst fan event #twisted wonderland fan event #Moonlight Song Competition

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saradika · 2 months ago

Text

— liminal.

din djarin x f!reader

rated e - 4.2k

tags: snippets in time, amnesia, winter soldier-esque trigger-words, implied brainwashing/cult!au, angst, descriptions of wounds, yearning, soft smut & piv, outdoor sex, canon-typical violence and death (bounty hunters), ‘darksaber is haunted’ vibes, unhappy ending

a/n: gorgeous moodboard is from the angst challenge hosted by the lovely @almostfoxglove! was so excited to contribute to freya’s event!

If there was a past, he has forgotten it. But you’ll help him remember.

You’ll make new memories with him.

(or - you find yourself spending the summer with a stranger who can't seem to remember anything about his life. And you might just be falling for him, too.)

Twelve weeks have passed since your stranger slipped headlong into your life.

Sudden, in the way you found him, stumbling into the aftermath.

You had thought him a machine, with the way the metal armor had encased him, glittering in the sun. The dome of his helmet, seemingly still and unblinking - a single figure, amongst the dead around him.

The sight was gruesome - red spilled across the ground, darkening to umber where it seeped into the earth, and you still shielded away from the memory of it.

A yelp, when he had stirred. You hadn’t been able to leave him behind. Even then, you had known he had needed your help.

It took another week for his wounds to heal, even with your care.

Vicious things, the tears in his side. A glimpse of bone and sinew in the tender space beneath his armpit - a weak, unprotected spot. A dagger still buried in his thigh that you had had to tug free - the limp still slipping to the surface on rainy days.

Bacta was an expensive commodity, but you had given him all you had stored. Smeared carefully across his wounds before you bandaged them - how alive he had been, then. Your hand pressed against a bare chest, his heart thrumming beneath.

It knitted him back together but hadn’t fixed everything.

His head must have been hit hard. There’s no memory of the battle. If his friends or family were amongst the fallen, what had lead to the fight in the first place.

There were no memories of where he came from. Of his home - his look blank, when you carefully prod.

Why he was here.

“If there is a past,” He told you, “I have forgotten it.”

Even his name is shrouded, lost inside him.

A ‘hey’ and a ‘you’ is enough in the time that followed, as he trails behind you like a shadow. Shaking off your questions - the rapid-fire trying of titles, to see if one feels familiar. Unmoored and left adrift - your small home and bit of land are the only spaces that felt familiar.

So, you let him stay.

The shadow sticked, melding with your own.

It’s been ten weeks since he removed his helmet.

You hadn’t pushed.

His grip was firm that first day - catching roughly around your wrists as your fingers hooked along the edge. Unyielding. No words spoken, but you had understood, even then. Leaving him to his own devices, letting him eat in the guest room you cleared for him.

Until a morning comes, when you catch yourself looking into a pair of eyes. Warm and brown beneath dark curls that spill across his forehead - and even then, something behind your ribs had hitched.

The movement slow as the helmet had lifted fully, with hands that hesitated. A stiffness in the way it was set down on the table beside him as you doled out breakfast, as if there's something about it.

An urge to keep it near, though he did not know why.

Like he shouldn’t, but there are no words to explain why he felt this way. Just the same sense of knowing that kept him in his armor every day. The routine in the way each piece snapped into place, down to the short hilt of black metal at his belt, though there had been no blade.

You had examined it yourself, once. While he slept, fingers traced over the handle, each groove. Hot beneath your touch, a sharp wash of unease had pulled your hand away.

It’s written across his face - the lines near the drawn-tight pull of his mouth.

Without the helmet, he could not hide.

Despite how much he does not know, you can read him. Even when his words come slowly and quietly.

In the days that followed, everything flickered across his expression. A furrow of his brow in concentration. The quirk of his lips when you said something funny. Those eyes sliding away, as his hand scratches at the scruff lining his jaw.

A flicker of worry, under the heat of summer. Reacting to the hiss that slipped from you when you burned the side of your wrist, working on repairs to your speeder. The barest brush of a hand at your hip, as he moved you out of the way.

Something innate alighting inside him, as he finished welding the piece himself. The bright sparks glanced off his armor, stars in the afternoon light.

Finding his voice, as time passed. Uncovering that edge that must have always been inside him. Sharp snark, and a sense of humor that could rip a surprised bark of a laugh, from deep in your chest.

And when you’d caught his matching rumble after, it felt like a triumph.

Eight, since he gave you something.

The sun dipped low, bathing your cabin in orange and purple. Exhaustion weighing down your limbs, after another long day of gathering fruit for your stall at the market. Hours spent standing in the shade of the trees, but it hadn’t made the heat much more bearable.

Though you had to admit - time passed much more pleasurably, with his addition.

It had been hard at first, to pick out what to say, when he had no stories to pull from. When everything he knew had melded together, unsure of what was dream and what may have existed.

You filled the space instead. Your own stories not much to tell, but you could feel the weight of his gaze often. Small comments and questions, when silence stretches out. Encouraging you to continue.

Conversation turning easier, with each passing day.

A dutiful presence at your stall. Catching everything - a leashed hound at your side, hackles ready to bristle. As much of a fixture as the handmade wooden crates, lined with soft linen. The hand-carved sign, passed down by your father’s father.

And in the quiet, evening light, he had plucked it free. A bruised jogan fruit from the basket at your feet - the word tumbling from him around a mouthful, teeth sinking into the purple flesh.

“Din.” Chewing, then swallowing, “I think that is my name.”

Your eyes had bounced to his. Dripping down to the tongue that had peeked out against his lip, before slowly repeating.

“Yeah?” You asked, before trying it for yourself.

“Din.”

It tasted sweet.

Fruit-ripe against your lips, and you had found yourself smiling.

Six weeks, since your lips had first touched to the nape of his neck.

Fitting together in your tiny bathroom, with the stone walls curling in.

Din’s back had been to you. Head bowed as you trimmed the grown-long curls, skin sticky with heat. His armor was in a neat stack at his feet, shoulders bared.

Mirroring your first few days together - but so different.

Your fingers had traced over the silver at his temples, catching in the warm light of your bathroom. Meaning hidden, in the careful touch.

It felt easier than it should be.

Natural.

And deep down, you thought it should scare you.

Maybe it does. At night, when you’re tucked into bed. Caught thinking about the man in the other room - who he might be. Where he came from, what higher power had guided him down here, to you.

But then you see him - the crinkle of his eyes and that easy routine. Looks exchanged that you’re not sure how to interpret, as if in a language only he knows.

Ones you never learned the words for.

And you just - forget.

You hadn’t been able to help it.

The dip of your head.

A chaste kiss pressed against the notch of his spine, right at the nape of his neck.

Summer lingered in his hair. Soaking in the sun and the wind off the lake - a hint of shampoo, when your nose brushed against his curls.

He smelled like home. Like you, mixed with leather and metal and man.

Din’s shoulders strung tight where your palm pressed, the soft inhale of breath that you almost missed.

You caught his eyes in the mirror, after.

When they opened again.

Where they had snagged. Watching every little movement - the careful brush of clippings from his skin. The touch that he had leaned into.

They burned, in the hazy reflection. A different kind of heat bloomed over your skin, and you thought, maybe-

Maybe he felt it, too.

Things had changed, four weeks ago.

The surface of the lake had been like glass, stretching out from the grove of trees.

Your favorite place - you’d spend all day out here if you could. Shirking responsibilities for a few hours beneath the branches, watching the sun change the water from blues to pinks and purples.

Something you had decided you were doing, today.

Your market stall was doing well. Picking extra fruit the day before - working longer, later, for this.

Din’s look dubious, when you told him you were going in. Those eyes caught between watching and turning away, as your shirt was peeled off.

Left behind with your boots, socks, and pants.

Scattered across an old blanket, the pattern sun-bleached and faded.

A shiver wracked through you, at the cool cling of the water. A balm to the heat, soothing all those weeks spent working.

Step after step, as you had let the lake surround you. Head tipped up, as you let the water mute everything.

And underneath the clouds, you had let yourself go under.

There was a splash, at the shore.

The catch of the sun against metal, left amongst the thick grass. Half-undressed already, as he had rushed to follow once again.

Din’s hand had curled around your bicep - pulling you to the surface, leaving you sputtering.

Worry, etched in the lines of his face, when your eyes had opened.

You had laughed.

Not meaning to - his brows furrowing as you explained.

“I’m fine.” You grinned, “It’s just a lake. I’m not drowning”.

His heart hammered beneath the press of your palm. Fingers smooth against your skin, goosebumps raised with the prickle of wind.

With more than that, if you were being honest.

Even now, you’re not sure who had moved first.

Maybe you both did. A part of your lips and the tilt of your head, and suddenly, his mouth was covering yours.

His rough groan echoed your soft sigh, as arms wrapped around your waist to crush you against him.

Melding yourself against bare skin, as you opened for the lick of his tongue.

The kiss had been clumsy. Clicking teeth and churning water as you grasped at each other. Unable to get enough, now that you’d begun.

But there’d been something practiced in the way he touched you. In the cup of his palm as he felt your warmth, thrust beneath the surface of the lake.

How he tucked you beneath him on the blanket, back at shore. A knee shifting as it pressed into your thigh, opening you up for him further. The weight of him as his hips rolled - separated by thin, soaked fabric.

You can still remember the way he groaned against your mouth when you tugged on his curls. How his skin felt feverish to your touch, and you knew yours must have faired the same - those weeks of wondering and wanting building. Taking off full tilt, and neither of you wanted to stop.

His hand had slipped to cup the back of your head, as your hips lifted. A rough sound when you brushed against the straining weight of his cock - tentative at first, and then desperate.

“Tell me I can have you.”

Another roll of his hips, and heat bloomed in your belly, as a confession slipped free. Husked into the shell of your ear.

“I haven’t wanted anything the way I want you.”

Your breath hitched, as something in your stomach bloomed. Clinging to him even tighter, as he nosed against your throat.

“You can’t know that.”

But out of everything, this had been one thing he was certain of. Drawing back until he hovered above you, blotting out everything else.

“I do.” It was soft. Emphatic, as his fingers kept your face tilted up to meet his, “I just know it. Can feel it, when I’m with you.”

It’s enough.

What remained was tugged off, left among the grass. The ragged groan warm against your skin when he finally sank to the hilt inside you, your cry lost among the lapping waves and birdsong.

Learning each other in new ways, committing each second to memory.

“Please-“ It slipped from you.

Your peak had dangled just out of reach, inching closer each time you took him fully. Your thighs hooked around his hips, driving him deeper. Needing more.

“I know, cyar’ika.” He mouthed at your throat. Teeth scraped against skin, needing his mark to linger, “Feels so fucking good. I shouldn’t have waited. I-“

The rest was lost, in the snap of his hips. The admission, the sweet name coming from a place deep inside him, as something forgotten slipped free.

Gold had burst behind your lids. The sunlight was demanding, filtering through as you drifted among the clouds.

Never knowing bliss like this, until him.

It snatched your breath, as your heart galloped away from you. Thrumming down and around him as he growled your name - before he followed, just as he always did.

Content to sink into your embrace.

After - your fingers traced over sun-warmed skin.

An ache in your chest, at the split slash at his hip. The healed blaster wound on his chest. Another mark against his ribs, one that had long faded.

A dozen others, cut into the planes of his torso.

He let you, as he sank into the grass. Head tipped up, eyes closed as you trace out words you’re not ready to say.

Biting them back, from the tip of your tongue.

Ones that echo his from before.

Ones about wanting. Needing.

You’d make new memories with him.

You’d help him remember if that’s what he wanted. Write down every detail, until he could see the bigger picture.

Until he could piece things back together.

It might take time - but in that pocket of summer, it didn’t matter.

Together, you’d have plenty of that.

It’s been two weeks now, since you’ve spent every night together.

The evening after the lake had been an unspoken thing. An entwining of hands again, and you had led him into your space.

His few things mixed with yours in the nights that came after, the bed in your guest room untouched for days.

You slept better than you ever did before. Eased by the weight of him beside you. Comforted by his presence, content to wind down the evenings with your limbs twined together.

A breeze sifted in through the cracked window, after another long day. With the lights off, you could see the sky above - the scattering of twinkling stars against a blanket of inky indigo.

Din’s eyes were drawn to it, often. Head tipping up, as the sun set, and the moon slipped into view. Minutes passing, with his eyes narrowed.

Sifting through broken slivers, twisting them until they fit.

“Do you think you’ve been up there?” Your head cradled against his shoulder. His arm was warm where it wound around you, your eyes fixed on the stars like his were.

He was silent for a long moment - the room filled with the hum of evening life, the steady inhale-exhale of breath.

“I think so.” It came slowly, “I dream of flying. And it feels��”

The words trailed off, a breath before he finished.

“It feels like I have.”

Your hand squeezed against his arm, thumb smoothing over skin.

“I’ve never been.” You admitted, “I’ve always wanted to go somewhere when I was younger. Anywhere.”

You’d spend ages pouring over holo-novels, dreaming of seeing different planets. The sprawling city of Coruscant. The forests of Kashyyyk, Beaches in Iloh, the vast stretch of the ocean before you.

“I’d take you.” His voice was a rumble, beneath your ear, ”I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”

Your head tilted, as you regarded him.

Curls mussed from your fingers, crushed against the cushion of your pillow.

Eyes dark and expectant. Earnest - you knew he was telling the truth.

You smiled, as your head dipped. Your admission breathed out, just before your lips touched to his.

“I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be.”

It’s been one day since everything changed.

Your afternoon at the market drawing out into the night. A runaway speeder clipping the side of the booth, sending fruit to spill upon the ground. The awning drooped, the wooden pole splintering.

Din had stepped away to get supplies. Your fingers smeared with pulp as you scavenged what you could, tucking fruit back into boxes.

Disposing enough that worry had begun to creep beneath your skin, prickling.

It had taken two hours to fix, his hands overlapping yours as the new piece was fitted into place.

The bag of credits tucked in your pocket, the evening light stretching out your shadows on the walk home.

And on a long strip between old buildings, the split of shadows became four.

Then six, as you found yourself boxed in.

Your heartbeat leaped, with the gravel-rasp of one of their voices. The glint of metal - a blaster, held loosely in the palm of a hand.

“Been looking for you. You’re hard to find, know that?”

There was an ache in your hand, as it wrapped around Din’s pauldron. It’s immediate - the way his arm had reached out, tucking you between him and the stone wall behind you.

“I don’t know them.” There was a wobble in your voice.

A rough laugh answered, “Not you, girlie.”

Din.

The knot in your chest dropped to your stomach. Fear like acid in your throat.

“The Tribe is looking for you. Not too happy you split. Offered a hefty sum.” It’s too casual, for the way the blaster pointed at Din’s chest. Still at each end of the alley, but each word brought them closer.

“Children of the Watch, too. It’s tempting, but…”

Din’s back was strung tight beneath your touch. These words meant nothing to you - names you didn’t recognize. References you didn’t understand.

The man was close enough then that you could see the glint of his eyes. The pull of lips across teeth that felt too sharp. An urge inside to run - but Din was too solid to move, and you couldn’t bear to leave him.

They paused, as their eyes dipped.

“Personally, I think we’d much rather have that.”

It’s almost as if Din instinctively knows what he meant, with the way his hands slipped to the black hilt.

Where it’s sat for weeks - an ever-constant, silent presence.

Two of the men had twitched, a foot shifting backward.

“Dead or alive, Mandalorian.” The man’s voice turned pressing, tipping towards desperate, “Doesn’t make a difference. Don’t need you, and definitely don’t need her-“

The blaster twitched towards you, and it’s as if a switch was flipped - no more than a heartbeat passed before the blade hummed to life in Din’s hand.

Inky black, fathomless. Consuming, as it swung through the air, and the last light of the sun dimmed with its presence.

Unnatural. Dangerous.

There was the smell of burnt flesh. The man’s arm cleaved at the bicep, paired with a wail.

A shorter knife pulled from Din’s hip, seated into their chest. The cry cut short. Red smeared across his armor, as you sank back against the wall in shock.

The destruction made sense, now. The carnage you had found him in - you had thought he'd been the lone survivor in a battle.

A half-truth, at least.

Instead you saw him for what he was.

You can picture what happened - for it was playing out in front of you. He moved as if he were made for this.

Fluid. Too much so, muscle memory kicking in, in a way that tells you he had done this many times before.

A second downed, before you managed to move. His name was weak on your lips as you reached for him, trying to keep him from pursuing after the rest who scattered.

Flinching, when his head whipped your way. Your own face had reflected back at you from his visor, fear widening your eyes - and for a moment, you didn’t recognize him.

The fierce warrior, in front of you.

But then, it was there.

Finding him in the slope of his shoulders. The way he stood - weapons sheathed as he cupped your face.

Urging you back toward home, trying to shield you from the mess that had become stuck to your thoughts like burrs.

It's only these weeks together, that had your legs moving. The fact that it's still him - that he did this for you - even if it caused your stomach to lurch.

Letting him take you as far as the house, then deeper.

You needed all that red gone. His armor peeled away in the golden, safe lights of home.

He husked your name once, then twice. Red-stained hands catching at your own. Excuses and promises murmured out, crackling through his helmet.

“I couldn’t let them touch you.”

“Cyare, please-“

And you only relented, with the lift of his helmet. Those brown eyes finding yours, and it’s only then that you could breathe again.

Letting him erase what happened, as his mouth brushes against yours. Waiting for you to close the gap - and, you had.

The jolt and sting of the near misses eased with the touch of hands that you’d come to know well. Stripping him as bare as you felt, the stained armor left at the foot of your bed - the hilt stinging your hand, pain prickling up your arm as it had dropped to the floor.

Trying to erase what happened, as you fell into the man you knew, until it all feels like a bad dream.

He did this for you.

It echoed in your mind, and from his lips. Assurances uttered, with the low rasp of his voice. Smeared across your skin, pressed against the soft curve of your inner thighs.

Filling you, with a familiar weight. Fingers entwined as you’re flipped onto your belly, another promise groaned into your ear.

“I’ll always take care of you.”

“You’re mine.”

“You’re safe.”

It lingered, after. You fell asleep with that thought, those words, letting them wrap around you like a cocoon.

Maybe if you believed it hard enough, it would be true.

There’s a weight when you wake.

A third companion, in the slow creep of the morning hours. Silent as it follows you.

Somber in the eyes that almost meet, only to just miss each other.

You don’t know how to take what happened. The admission after - everything you’ve ever wanted to hear, just at the wrong time.

Wishing you had been back at the lake again, instead.

Wishing you had said something, then. That you had left the stall broken, and gone home early.

Because while it doesn’t really change things, you still reeling with the change from the slow, idyllic life you’ve become accustomed to. The two sides of the coin, of the man you’ve come to love.

That heaviness between you swells - cracking open, with the silhouette of figures against the horizon.

That fear creeps back again, as you look to him. Leaning into the hand at your shoulder once more, tucking you amongst the grove.

But it’s not the men from last night.

The ones that slip through the trees look like him. Gleaming helms, covered head to toe.

Long capes and blasters at their hips, a commanding voice ringing out from the woman whose gold helmet is adorned with twin horns.

"Djarin."

A name, a title, you think - you cannot tell. But dread still curls in your stomach, mirroring the ache when his blade had arced through the air.

You wonder if they were the ones looking for him. Wonder where they’ve been, how they knew-

“You must have known we’d come for you. That it would lead you to us.” Her head cocks, as she takes him in. Voice turning sharp, cracking like a whip.

"You’ve been gone too long. You toe the line of dar'manda, mand'alor.”

He flinches, as one last phrase is uttered.

“Ibic haar Yust.”

This time the words - what is spoken - does something to him.

Din’s posture straightens, as if awakening from a long slumber. Hands methodical with the way they drop to the clip at his waist, unlatching his helmet.

Your Mandalorian disappears beneath, his voice distorting with his dutiful echo.

“This is the way.”

He leaves your side, and your brow knits. Hand reaching for the tattered cape as he goes to them, though the fabric slips through your fingers.

The pit in your stomach drops, as you call after him - panicked.

That single syllable stretches long.

Becoming lost to the wind.

He doesn't answer. Doesn’t react. Doesn't turn, as he rejoins his clan. Melding in with the others - their figurehead back in place, after weeks of searching. The darksaber back where it belonged, calling out with spilt blood, until it could find its way home.

After all, that name was never yours.

And neither was he.

thank you for reading, and thank you again freya for this event! it was so fun to use your images for inspiration, and to tap into that angst

cyar’ika - darling, sweetheart

cyare - beloved

Ibic haar Yust. - ‘this is the way’

dar’manda - the state of being ‘not mandalorian’

mand’alor - leader of the mandalorians

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x you #pedro pascal fanfiction #almostfoxgloveangst2

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084thoughts · 1 month ago

Text

Ravi Centric Fic Recs!!

Separated into categories and listed by word count from least to greatest. AO3 ratings are highlighted -> Gen Teen Mature Explicit Not Rated (NR)

🔥 labeled fics are some of my personal favorites!!

Please read tags/descriptions before to avoid any triggering or explicit content. Many of these fics discuss childhood cancer, chronic and mental illness, explicit sexual activity, and/or traumatic injury.

Basically all of the romantic/sexual pairings w Ravi are rarepairs-Hanikkar, May/Ravi, Buck/Ravi- (because 9-1-1 can't seem to bother giving him character development) so if you don't vibe w a ship, just don't read it. I included some great non-slash fics, and a entire section for Buddie-centric fics.

Character Study (Ravi Lore) 📚

Tea by ThirteenRedVampireBites | NR | 1.2k | Tea and how it shaped Ravi's favorite memories, Comfort Food, Fluff, minor hanikkar Ravi Begins by Ginja828 | T | 4.5k | Post-Season 7, 911 Typical Emergency, Flashbacks, Suicide Attempt, Queer Ravi no one can be born too many times by Daisies_and_Briars | T | 10k | Ravi's brother visits the station and is a dick, discussion of cancer, autism, supportive 118 Ravi Begins by mothdean | G | 11k | Ravi joins A-shift, Minor Character Death (on a call), Cancer Treatment & Remission, Hurt/Comfort, Childhood Trauma 🔥darlin', i'm just tryin' to tell ya by archerincombat | T | 12k | The 118 adopts a stray dog that reminds Ravi of his childhood, Cancer, Fire Station Dog, Panikkar Family, 118 Found Family 🔥the ravi fic by archerincombat | T | 15k | Ravi/OMC, 118 Friendships, Panikkar Family, Ravi's OC Friends, Childhood Cancer, Pining, Canon 911 Events: Seasons 4-6 paralyzed (don't you know you've got me?) by doveious | T | 36k | Ravi is paralyzed after a car accident, Established May/Ravi (but not main focus), Hurt/Comfort, Physical Disability, Chronic Pain

118 Friendships 🚒

if i should fall by truth_seeker_1789 | G | <1k | 911 call, Landslide Rescue, Whump, Ravi & Buck Friendship burn the sage (clear the air ducts) by doveious | G | 1.4k | Ravi gets stuck in an air vent, Crack, 118 hijinks Who you gonna call? by scarmaddiewrites | G | 1.7k | Buck has Chronic Pain, Buck & Ravi Friendship, Eddie is in Texas an open wound by rarakiplin (gmontys) | T | 2k | Ravi sees Eddie in the parking lot of the bar, Season 5b, Angst, Mental Health Struggles nothing but the ocean and the sunrise by evenatraitormaymend | G | 2.3k | Buck tells Ravi about his leg scars at the beach, Established Buddie, Fluff, truck bombing Ravi Versus El Paso: A Hate Story by serenelystrange | G | 2.7k | Snippets of Ravi and 118 during Eddie's banishment in Texas, Good-Natured Bullying, 118 Friendships, Queer Ravi birds of a feather, we should stick together by regvlvs | G | 3k | Hen takes Ravi to an aquarium trip to help him study for his paramedic exam, Autistic Ravi, Fluff, Hen & Ravi Friendship things aren't always as they seem by swordgay1989 | G | 4k | 5 times Ravi felt unsure at the 118 + 1 time he felt at home with them, Hurt/Comfort, Autistic Ravi, Cancer, Panic Attacks, Angst it's not what it looks like by odysseus_calls | G | 4.1k | Ravi's romantic plans fall through, he ends up spending his day out with Buck instead, minor Hanikkar, cute date activities with your crush's brother-in-law 🔥all we see is sky for forever by strawberryspence | T | 9k | Buck and Ravi get injured on a call together, Hurt/Comfort, Cancer, Buck & Ravi Friendship 🔥flood of facts by cookiesandcream | T | 9.5k | Buck and Ravi bond at the zoo, background buddie and hanikkar, infodumping, fluff

Cancer 🏥

All About the Cancer by Acciopologies | G | 1k | Chronic Illness, Vomiting, Angst, Misunderstandings Treading on Eggshells by Acciopologies | G | 1k | Childhood Trauma, Mention of Overdose, Suicide Attempt, Whump, Mother-Son Relationship Instead of soccer games by Beeisforever | G | 1.2k | Ravi meets a kid on a call that reminds him of his past, Chemo, One-shot, 911 call ooh child (things are gonna get easier) by doveious | T | 1.8k | Snippet from Ravi's childhood during chemotherapy, Angst, Cancer Treatment, Vomiting trauma sends you letters, without warning, for the rest of your life by swordgay1989 | G | 2.7k | Flashback to Ravi's childhood, Cancer, Chronic Illness, Chemotherapy, Angst 🔥the rest is still unwritten by strawberryspence | T | 8.7k | Buck & Ravi Friendship, Cancer Remission, minor ravi/omc, Beach Day, Car Rides, Healing After Trauma, sequel to all we see is sky for forever

Hanikkar (Ravi/Albert) 🌸

No Aunts for Jee-Yun by delinquentprincess | G | <1k | The 118's POV of Ravi and Albert dating, Short & Sweet sweat baby sweat by chromatophorica | E | 1.3k | Drunk Sex, Accidental Hookup, Friends to Lovers(?) The Reveal by crowstakeflight (seresindiaz) | G | 1.7k | Ravi and Albert go to the Madney wedding as each other's dates, Secret Relationship, Fluff Running on Airplane Mode by whatisreggieshortfor | NR | 1.8k | Miscommunication, Getting Together, Light Angst, Friends to Lovers right from the start (i gave you my heart) by chimneysrebar | G | 2k | Madney wedding, Fluff, Relationship Reveal, Chim cameo a turtle's shell. by sillinesshq | G | 2k | Fluff, Autistic Ravi, Supportive Albert, short & sweet Corresponding Shapes (Like Puzzle Pieces) by thetalee | T | 2.2k | Valentine's Day, Hanikkar Date Night 🔥three first dates by snowflick | T | 2.7k | Developing Relationship, Fluff, Chronically Ill Ravi, Supportive Albert, First Dates, Vomiting depollute me, pretty baby by shortndiaz | E | 3k | Domestic Fluff, Chronic Pain, Drabbles, prompt #4 is smut/explicit sex we'd never say we're just friends by ScatteredPhotographs | G | 3.7k | 5 times Ravi and Albert tried to hide their relationship from the 118 + 1 time they didn’t need to, Secret Relationship, Silly Goofy, 118 Family Feels oh shit, are we in love? by supernovamyth | T | 5.3k | FWB to Lovers, Flirting, Love Confessions 🔥Keep it Down by rainbow_nerds | T | 6k | Ravi and Albert neighbor AU, Friends to Lovers, meet ugly The 118's Soap Opera Curse by Sonayesul | T | 7k | Secret Relationship, Superstitions, Crack Treated Seriously, Angst w Happy Ending 🔥Six Dates & A Funeral by RighteousPunk | M | 54k | Buck and Chimney compete to matchmake Ravi, FWB Hanikkar, Pre-Buddie, Multiple POVs, Fluff, Angst 🔥Ravi and Albert's Guide to Fake Not-Dating by to_be_a_dreamer | T | 49k | Ravi and Albert try to avoid the "118 curse" by hiding their relationship from their friends and family, Secret Relationship, Character Lore, Angst

Other Romantic Pairings 💕

🔥i'm used to loving slowly by waveridden | T | 32k | May/Ravi/Albert, Polyamory, Getting Together, Roommates to Friends to Lovers, POV May Grant, Partial Slowburn

May/Ravi

i'll finally see what it means to be complete by chromatophorica | G | 2k | May/Ravi, Secret Admirer, Gift Giving, Fluff and now this thought drives me mad by ferager | G | 3k | Ravi stresses over a date with May, May/Ravi, Fluff, Supportive Chimney my flower baby (flower baby) by doveious | T | 10k | Five times Ravi got May flowers and one time May got Ravi flowers, Established May/Ravi, Fluff, 5 + 1

Buck/Ravi

after hours by v_greyson (greyson) | E | 13k | Buck meets Ravi's queer friends and they hookup, Buck/Ravi, FWB, Queer Community, Genderplay, Drinking, Explicit Sex 🔥A Guide to Playing Matchmaker for Your Boyfriend by sammyunhinged | M | 52k | Ravi dates Buck instead of Tommy, Ravi/Buck, Pre-Buddie, Casual Relationship, Sexual Content, Ravi bestie OC 🔥good pretender by likeshipsonthesea | E | 85k | Buck and Ravi FWB, Explicit Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of Cancer, Indian Culture, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms (Buck's relationship w sex), Buddie slowburn, Multiple POVs

Buddie Driven Plot 🏡

good luck, babe! by QuietLittleVoices | G | 1.5k | Ravi confused by Buddie, Gossiping, Season 7 Setting the implications of observation by intotheblue | G | 1.7k | Ravi being suspicious of Buddie, short and sweet, Relationship Reveal r/AskReddit: Are My Coworkers Dating? by shelfthe_reader | NR | 2.5k | Ravi vents about Buddie on Reddit, Crack, various buddie traumas referenced 🔥The Packer Incident by jade_reads29 | M | 3.5k | Secret Relationship, Trans!Buck, Smut, porn with plot, Buddie mildly traumatizes Ravi new debate topic: is evan buckley a good boyfriend? by writelove | NR | 3.6k | Ravi thinks Buddie are together, Crack Treated Seriously, 118 Game Night, Fluff Just a name by AngyBegins | G | 4.4k | Buck keeps calling Ravi "Eddie", Buck & Ravi Friendship, Eddie goes to Texas Take The Bitter With The Sweet by fruitsdoesnotknow | T | 5k | Ravi being terrorized by platonic Buddie, dumbass4dumbass, the 118 being a family so far away but still so near by 42hrb | T | 6.2k | Eddie becomes friends with Lucy and Ravi, Coming Out, Pining this is it (i can feel it) by withmeornotatall | T | 9k | Ravi's POV of Eddie returning to the 118, Ravi & Lucy Friendship 🔥some things are meant to be secret (and not to be heard) by archerincombat | T | 10k | Sequel to the ravi fic, Established Buddie, Secret Relationship and only Ravi knows, Ravi/OMC (Sebastian ily) Four Can Keep a Secret by Daisies_and_Briars | T | 20k | Ravi and Hen scheme to expose secret relationship Buddie, post-bridge collapse, Miscommunication, Scheming with Henren

@cal-daisies-and-briars @doveious @queerpanikkar @hoediaz @bipitybopitydoo @strawberryspence @thetalee @to-be-a-dreamer @rainbow-nerdss @exhuastedpigeon @fruitsdontknow

@waveridden @chromatophorica @vgreysoncellars @sammyunhinged @likeshipsonthesea @shelfthe-reader @harpermiller @thirteenredvampirebites

⭐️ i apologize if you are not tagged as one of the writers for these works - lmk if i missed your @ so i can credit you 😊

⭐️ if you would like to be tagged in part 2 of my ravi fics (or my upcoming albert and may fic compilation) tag or comment below!!

#ravi panikkar #ravi panikkar 911 fics #911 fic rec #buddie #911 abc #084thoughts #hanikkar #may x ravi 911 #buck x ravi #albert han

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simp-ly-writes · 1 month ago

Text

A Noble Act

─────── · · For All Time: The Series (pt.6)

─ · · PAIRING: The Doctor x F!Time Lord!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: There are two definite things in this universe. One, Donna Noble will get the Doctor and the Lady back together. And two, she was going to do whatever it takes to make it happen.

─ · · TAGS: female pronouns used, second person perspective, canon divergence, soulmate au, mutual pining, emotional angst, ✨ jealous!Doctor ✨, suggestive themes, kissing, eventual happy ending, not beta read.

─ · · A/N: sorry that it skips around a bit, was trying to fill in the time between events but nevertheless I hope you all enjoy this second-to-last part!

─────── · ·

~ Prior to the Gardens...

Donna Noble has had quite enough to put it simply. She was sick of the Doctors constant moping and pouty stares off into space like a lost puppy caught out in the rain. Sick of his defensive quips and strike-backs to make her stop asking about you. And she was most certainly sick of nobody doing anything when you both obviously just needed to kiss and make up already.

So when she stepped foot back onto the TARDIS, Donna Noble had a plan... to get two Time Lords back together like some romantic-comedy gone wrong. How exactly would she do this?- she had to do some research first and brew herself a bot of tea to enjoy with it.

The Doctor was suspicious of why his companion all the sudden was digging through the deepest of storage rooms and climbing up the highest shelves in the library to stick her nose into dusty books and boxes yet in the grand scheme of things, this was the least weird thing he had encountered and so he let his companion be.... for now.

─────── · ·

The Lady is a member from one of the most powerful houses on Gallifery who are thought to be descendants from the original Time Lords line and thus is where her title was established. Her house oversaw smaller states across the red planet and acted as the main conductors for interplanetary relations. Originally, she was set for a political marriage to ensure the lineage of her house but after careful consideration another member was pulled. The reason for why this change happened was unknown to the public for many years and many suggested that the cause was her finding her soulmate. It wouldn't be until several years later until answers were provided as the Lady made her relationship with rivalling house member, the Doctor, public. It was very well known how their parents detested one another so to see this union was a shock to all socialites and papers.

Donna held onto every word of the textbook fixed between her hands, cooing and aw-ing at the Doctors seemingly 'love story for the ages' as this writer put it or as Donna read between the pages, a 'jealous love story of the ages'. As she snickered at the rivalry between the Doctor and the Master for your hand. To be fought over, Donna sighed before shaking her head and Flipping forwards to the next page, she saw an old portrait of yourself from regenerations ago.

Yet falling out onto her lap between the pages was a chain of paper flowers and hearts, it is all sickly sweet, too sweet, she thought to herself and she would be correct in picking up her next book, The History of the Time Wars, that crushed her high spirits.

Said to be the true war to end all wars and to some part it was to an outsider looking in. Two greatly evolved species, the Daleks and the Time Lords in a tale fundamentally as old as time set to an end by their mutual destruction. Many tragic stories have came out of these loveless fights, some even too dark and sad to be placed into words. Yet amongst these all, the Lady and the Doctor stands to be the saddest of them all, their tale connecting across language, time, and species of a man driven to absolute destruction thinking their love to be lost as they trash out against the universe, a tale as old as the Time Wars itself found repeating across storytellers everywhere. Nowadays only singular survivors of these wars remain with limited resources to reconstruct their once great fleets and nations... the only question remains on which species is stubborn enough to wait for the other to die or to die trying to kill the other... the answer, if you are reading this, is already found.

So entrenched into her readings she didn't notice the Doctor leaning in the doorframe a sad and contemplative look upon his features as he stared at the array of books he spent many of his younger years reading- hoping to gain a closer connection to you in some way by the mere mention of your name against a white page.

With a heavy sigh, the Doctor pivots, closing the door softly behind himself unknowing to Donnas stare following him out the room. 700 years of waiting... and not a year more, she told herself with determination.

─────── · ·

After easily convincing the TARDIS to track your signal in which it happily complied, lights flashing brightly and engines singing, the Doctor could do little to control where the blue box was headed as he scrambled with the controls that appeared to be moving on their own violation.

Donna just sat back in her chair with a large grin on her face, ankle press atop her knee with a cup in one hand, saucer in the other. "Are you seeing this? I've never seen her act like this before, maybe someone has hacked- no thats impossible..." the Doctor was threading his hands through his hair, tugging at the roots as he paced. A part of Donna wanted to tell yet the better part of her knew that it would only add to the reaction so she kept her lips shut, nodding absent-mindedly with each of the space-man's complaints.

"Oh yeah I know, terrible blue box not working for the blue-box man, right?" she pouts before shoving a scone in his face. "I find stress eating helps sometimes, you ever tried it?"

Crumbs falling out of his mouth, the Doctor tries to talk, raising a pointed finger before chocking on the dryness of the pastry, signalling for some water instead. "Both ladies have lost their mind today," the Doctor grumbles to himself receiving a quick swat to the back of his head by his companion.

"Oi! the only mind being lost is your head when I take it if you keep up this attitude, I swear sometimes I'm like your mother, grandmother, and great grandmother," Donna retorts, sitting back down with a huff. The Doctor stays silent, taking a seat beside his companion and finishes the rest of his scone as the TARDIS descends.

"I don't even know if I have a great grandmother," the Doctor takes a look towards Donna out of the corner of his eye.

"Well I'm not going to help you with that one."

─────── · ·

Donna had planned a myriad of excuses yet tried to not act stunned as she didn't need to use them, the Doctor had decided himself that he would be staying within the TARDIS to try and repair whatever 'damage' had been done from the automatic flying.

Setting off down a hill from where the blue box had parked she stumbled into a garden where coincidentally enough she found you getting your portrait done? Donna furrowed her brows, I didn't know you to be so narcissistic. Yet those thoughts are quickly dissolved in seeing your shock ridden face whilst staring at yourself in the painted frame that only grows when another man steps into the frame that you seem to recognize almost instantly that has Donna frowning deeply.

Who are you, what do you think you're doing? She stares at the bow-tie man sharply, ducking out of sight as his eyes chase over the landscape- jumping right past her head. She cannot hear your conversation yet follows at a distance conjouring up another plan on sight.

If memory serves me right... the Doctor asked for your hand after seeing you with the Master more... so if the Doctor sees you now with him... she quickly turns back to the TARDIS, not bothering to say hello to the Doctor as she grabs her camera and storms back out just in time to- she nearly drops her camera at the sight but manages to snap a quick albeit blurry picture.

"Oi! Minster! You get your hands off her! I can’t have you ruining my plan so off you go, shoo!” She watches as you both freeze, glaring at his hand placed high above your raised knee. After what she had seen on the Titanic, Donna's mind was working on overdrive on how quickly you could move on from the Doctor to whoever this was feeling up your leg in an open field.

She watches as the man leans down to whisper something into your ear that has you blush, covering your face in his chest as he grips you tighter. That is the opposite of what I wanted to happen! Donna panics to herself, I need something more threatening...

“If you think I’m playing around that one there has a very angry alien friend that is looking for something to rip his teeth into and it could be you!” Donna tries to persuade further, taking a step closer and she swears to hear you both laughing that only fuels her dissatisfaction with your actions.

So lost in her own anger she does not see you shoving the bow-tied man away from you, her world clattering down at the mention of her name not from your lips... but from his in a warm recognition, “and yes, hello Donna. I’ll leave in a moment just have to make sure the Lady here gets to where she needs to go safely.”

Donna opens and closes her mouth like a fish out of water, how on gods green earth does HE know my name? Yet before she could receive any answers she notices you both had disappeared like mere figments of her imagination. So this is what I get for messing with aliens! Donna sighs, kicking stones back to the TARDIS before remembering the camera strapped around her neck. Maybe things just like work out after all...

─────── · ·

Darting back to the TARDIS will laughing a little bit evilly to herself, she kicked the bottom on the Doctors converse- signalling him to roll himself from out underneath the TARDIS.

He looked a right mess, hair sticking out on all awkward angles a few drops of dried red oil staining his collar and his tie askew. "Whatcha need?" he stands, stretching at near impossible angles that Donna debates being more painful than relieving.

"I have something that you need to see," her face hides nothing on her racing heart as she unfolds the picture from her pocket and is at first met with silence.

The Doctor looked at the blurry image of you being kissed by this random man that somehow knew her name, she explained to the Doctor who did not look to be breathing and made no response. Simply taking the image from her hand and inspecting it closer.

At first she saw how the edges began to crease as his grip tightened, his eyes confirming this to be in fact you. Next was his brow, coming down alongside the corners of his mouth into a deep frown. His head tilted to the slightest degree, suit becoming smaller as his chest heaved and soon the image was crumbed and kicked into the heart of the TARDIS underneath the console, Donna could smell the ashes.

"How long ago was this?" his voice cold and distant and receives no answer, the Doctor asks again, "Was this recent?"

Donna clears her throat, raising her head to meet his darkened stare, gotcha, she smirks to herself, stepping forwards eyes darting towards the door and back to his challenging gaze, "just now-" and the Doctor storms off, door slamming behind him.

The TARDIS whoops and cheers as Donna laughs, "I guess kissing in a TARDIS is close enough to a closet... give or take that its bigger on the inside." The TARDIS does not respond, simply humming contently to itself.

"You sound excited to have them possibly back," she pats the console gently seeing as the buttons press themselves rapidly showing the machines excitement and little did Donna know just how excited the Doctors TARDIS.

─────── · ·

Donna was beginning to be worried after a day had passed and there was still no signs of the Doctor or you returning to the TARDIS nor anywhere near it. Taking on a light jacket Donna walked back up the hill to find the same shed you disappeared in front of hours ago.

Hesitantly raising her hand to knock on the chipped wooden door she hears no movement nor response inside as she pushes the door open and is shocked to find it greatly larger on the inside.

It amazed her how different your TARDIS looked to the Doctors. The warm lighting, various plants and books littered the walls with art from throughout the ages. It looked like a true collectors dream and at the centre of it all, unknowing in their bubble of bliss Donna saw you wrapped in the Doctor's shirt and a pair of socks as you leaned against your console, mug in hand.

The Doctor looked drunk, absolutely plastered, the companion noted to herself in seeing how lazily spread out in an arm chair he was before you, pants all creased and a simple undershirt that did little to cover up the marks upon his cheeks and necks. Donna stayed quiet once seeing her best friends look of pure, softened adoration as he picked up your hand, kissing every knuckle before flipping it over to place one last lingering kiss to your palm.

In response you fell into his lap with a chuckle, fixing his hair gently as he closed his eyes in response, humming in thanks as you both shared a silent conversation that soon was imposed upon when Donna accidentally kicked over one of your smaller plant pots, the clay shattering against the floors as you jumped and reached for your sonic- the Doctor immediately standing and pushing you behind him, a scowl present on his face.

Holding her hands up, Donna took a few more steps forward, "sorry love birds! Just-ah checking in that the two last time lords aren't dead so I can make it home eventually," Donnas tone raises with every word she speaks, embarrassment evident as her cheeks become the same shade as her hair.

She peers around the Doctors back and watches as you press your forehead between his shoulder blades, arms circling around his waist as you giggle to the Doctors annoyed huff as he places his screwdriver back in his pocket. "You two seem to have been... busy," Donna smirks, the initial embarrassment quickly wearing off as you cast her a playful wink.

The Doctor sputters, "Well I-uh, not like that I..." for a response as you move and pick up his arm, placing it across your shoulders. "We were just getting to know each other again," you smile towards the companion your husband had told you all about.

Donna snorts before horror flashes between her eyes, "but what about the other-" you cut her off, "Oh him?" you smile, the Doctor groans, removing himself from the conversation as he sits back down in his chair and reaches for his jacket, placing it across his lap as he smooths out the creases in the fabric, "he was also the Doctor," you smirk.

"But he knew my name?" Donnas statement comes out more like a question that you step forwards, placing a hand against her shoulder in reassurance.

"You are his best-friend after all... are you not?"

Donna hugs you tightly, overjoyed about the news, "so he never found a way to get rid of me- this was better than I was expecting!" You throw your head back in laughter as does Donna.

"Did the Doc ever mention anything about me on your travels?" you question once your laughter dies down, Donna stills, taking a step back as she grits her teeth together, "uh... well..." you raise a brow in a silent ask for her to continue as you sit back in the Doctor lap, his chin resting on your shoulder.

"...well I don't know, he was rather cryptic, something about destroying universes and committing atrocities, you know, the usual for a man with a load of power," and her sarcastic answer tells you all as you turn your head to glare at the Doctor. "You didn't tell her about me?"

The Doctor tenses and presses a kiss to your cheek, "well love I-I- there was so much to say and so little time to say it all in," he smiles confidently at his words as you rolls your eyes and look back at Donna.

"we are going to be good friends," the Doctor shakes his head watching as Donna nods enthusiastically.

"You two are going to be the death of me."

"Like I wasn't already," you jab him in he ribs before offering your hand, "so my ship or yours?"

─────── · ·

The Doctor for the first time was a bit embarrassed that he turned of the chameleon function of his TARDIS leaving you to change yours to a piece of luggage that you carried aboard reassuring the Doctor and Donna that you would in fact not create a paradox as long as you didn't open it inside the Doctor's TARDIS, you just didn't trust leaving your house out in the open, something about human locks Donna remembers you mentioning.

You and the Doctor acted like an old-married couple that Donna swore to grow grew hairs because of. You both bickered endlessly in the morning on where to go, who too meet, what to eat and who got to wear what- it was maddening.

Donna later that day found you both making out on your joint afternoon travels, walking hand in hand down alien streets like no time had passed, and by evening you were back to fighting over who controlled what part of the TARDIS before working in tandem- it was chaos to say the least yet above all, she had never seen the Doctor so... light.

He practically skipped with every step, twirling you every outfit change to take in your appearance, kissing your face every time he would spark a brilliant idea like he couldn't control himself but you controlled him in a way that he needed.

Donna noticed your special ability to keep the Doctor from being his worst self, from becoming just another one of his many enemies. You reminded him of light, love, and most of all... hope. A word that the spaceman had long since forgotten until reuniting with you.

It inspired Donna to know end and to some part she was jealous of seeing others have such a pure love for one another that they couldn't help but spread across the universe. So many times everyone had gotten saved that it became the new regular and even when it was not possible, you held one another on the floor of the console room, a silent comfort in knowing that the other wouldn't have to bare the pain alone.

─────── · ·

On one of your late night conversations as the Doctor steered the TARDIS, you sat in Donna's room, a plate of snacks on the bed for you both to share.

"So... what was the Doctor like as a child?" you smile before taking a big sigh.

"He was a downright menace," you begin with before heavy footsteps can be heard running down the hall stopping at the door.

"You take that back!" the Doctor burst through the door, finger wagging in your face that you swat away yet he can't contain his smile.

"I only speak the truth," you shrug, casting Donna a wink as she smirks from behind her cup watching as the Doctor slips into the bed, sitting behind you.

"If that's the truth than your father loved me to death and Gallifrey was blue," the Doctor scowls, stealing a bite of your biscuit from your hand, "I was a perfectly normal time child."

You wipe away the crumbs off your lap and onto the floor before mouthing to Donna, he set a tree on fire during TARDIS driving lessons 101.

"I hope you know dear that I know over a thousand languages and can in fact lip read." You shift to look up at his face, a finger crooking his chin down to meet have your lips meet, "and what did I say now?"

The Doctor hums contently, "That you love me?" as Donna begins to feel uncomfortable in her own space. You nod, "always.," before gasping in surprise feeling as the Doctor picks you up in his arms.

"Have a goodnight, Donna!" the Doctor calls as you wrap your arms hastily around his neck, cursing his name as the Doctor echos your own.

"Doctor!"

"Lady!~" and you both burst out into giggles. Donna shakes her head as the TARDIS shuts the door behind the couple, they truly will never grow up... will they?

─────── · ·

─ · · A/N: Gonna miss these guys!

─ · · FOR ALL TIME TAGLIST: @posionapple24 @azriel64290 @smallerontheoutside @soniiyi @spirit-of-the-hollow @f0x33 @blackoutdays13 @dlljdhsh @staygoldsquatchling02 @athenxt @whatislifebutlemons @cardanxjude20 @zara-aliza08

#fanfic #fanfiction #simp-ly #simp-ly-writes #x reader #doctor who #doctor who fanfic #tenth doctor #10th doctor #doctor who fanfiction #doctor x reader #10th doctor x reader #doctor who x reader #tenth doctor x reader #david tennant x reader #for all time

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godmadeaterribleerror · 11 days ago

Text

Chapter 1 - The Sins

Main Masterlist - Mini-Series Masterlist

Tags: Bucky Barnes/Female Reader, soulmates, canon divergence, slow burn, smut, angst, fluff, eventual happy ending, Winter Soldier is here for this one.

Summary/Warnings: The Soldier is injured, and you make some very stupid choices. Usual Warnings.

Author's Note: This one's been bouncing around in my brain for a while. I hope you enjoy the story!

Word Count: 5.1k

Read on A03! - Chapter 2

Compromised.

The Asset’s Health has been compromised. There was a rifle—CZ 550, ammunition .338 Lapua Magnum—and it pierced his upper right arm. Close to the deltoid. Damage assessed, non-lethal.

Will not need attention. Asset will proceed as ordered with the mission.

The mission has been completed. The targets are dead. Collateral five people, one house. No tracks left.

With the mission completed, the Asset will return to his handler.

The Asset is compromised, and cannot return to his handler. The handler is across the ocean—Atlantic, over 100,000 kilometers—and should not be contacted unless the mission fails.

The mission was a success.

The Asset will return to his handler.

The Asset is compromised. He cannot return to his handler.

The handler should not be contacted.

In a back alley of a city, the Solider leans against the dirtied brick wall, clutching at his head.

It hurts. Everything hurts. Electricity is shocking and pounding at his head, and it hurts. His shoulder is throbbing, and when he touches it, his fingers come away red.

That is his blood.

The Solider did not know he could bleed. He knew of pain, but this is different. This cannot be eased by compliance. He has been wounded.

He is not supposed to be wounded.

Ever.

The Asset will not be phased by pain.

But it hurts.

In the event that the Asset is compromised, he will return to his handler.

The Soldier cannot return to his handler. He can barely even stand up, and the wound is small, but also deep. He thinks, when he peels away his suit to assess the wound again, that he can see some bone sticking out of it.

The Asset is compromised.

He is well aware of that. His head fucking hurts.

In the event of weakness, the Asset will return to his handler for assessment of the programming.

He cannot return to his handler. His handler is across the ocean, and the Soldier has somehow ended up on the pavement of this alley, and God, his head really, really hurts-

Should the Asset isolated from his handler, he will find somewhere safe.

That was new.

The Soldier has never felt that order before. It is as if the thought breaching through layers, peeling up from the bottom of his head, pushing from where it may have been buried.

The Asset will remain where it is safe until he is no longer compromised, or he is retrieved by his handler.

Safe. Where it is safe.

The Soldier just has to find where it is safe.

Locations approved for safety are any Hydra layers or labs. The Asset will not be seen with S.H.E.I.L.D agents under any circumstances, or engage with unapproved Hydra agents. He will remain docile unless given direct orders to do otherwise.

There are no more Hydra labs in the Soldier’s immediate path. He just destroyed the last one.

Target, two men who have strayed from Hydra’s mission-

Everything hurts. He finished the mission, but he is compromised, and he can’t go to his handler, but he cannot go anywhere safe, nowhere is safe, everything hurts-

Should the Asset be isolated from his handler, he will find somewhere safe.

No where is safe. The Solider presses on the wound, and more pain shoots up his arm.

The Asset is compromised.

The Solider is going to beat his head against the wall.

The Asset should not cause himself any harm that may compromise his health.

The Asset is compromised.

In the event of weakness, the Asset will return to his handler for assessment of the programming.

Should the Asset isolated from his handler, he will find somewhere safe.

Locations approved for safety are-

The Soldier roars, and it echoes. Sends animals scurrying away, makes the whole night silent for only a second. It hurts, it fucking hurts, and he cannot comply, he has to comply, if he does not, the sky will fall, and all this pain would increase and nowhere is-

If the Asset is experience distress at his actions, he will return to his-

Something cracked. The bricks of the wall, as the Solider has slammed his good fist—the better one, that couldn’t be broken—into the wall.

The Asset should not cause himself any harm that may compromise his health.

The Asset is compromised.

The Soldier slumps back down to the concrete. He is pretty certain this loop has occurred before—he can never be sure of anything, but there are vague images of people in white coats poking at his brain and muttering about how they’d messed up the code—and it will likely just end with Hydra finding him, isolating the breach, and locking him back in a chair.

The Asset is compromised.

He is fucked. The Asset, the Solider, whatever, he’s fucked. He’s hurt, and stranded, and nowhere is-

Should the Asset isolated from his handler, he will find somewhere safe.

Locations approved for safety are-

All the Hydra warehouses and layers were destroyed-

No.

The Soldier frowns. That’s new. It’s coming from even deeper than the safety order, and it feel like his brain was being shredded and burned, but it was—and always is—easier to just comply.

There is one safe location in the Asset’s area. The safest location. Go to the safest location, and they will take care of you.

People don’t take care of the Solider, that’s not what he’s-

Go to the safest location.

But nowhere is safe, and-

Sirens start to blare from the road, the night growing blue and red and flashing and fuck-

The Soldier covers his ears—hissing as something tore in his shoulder from the movement—and the new order grows louder.

The safest location. Go. Now.

He doesn’t have directions. The Solider was usually provided with directions.

But right now, he doesn’t need them.

He just pushed up off the ground, stumbles down the alley, and knows exactly where he was going on instinct.

The safest location.

—————

Whoever came up with college needs to be shot. Whoever came up with internships needs to be tarred and feathered and drawn and quartered and-

Huh.

You were paying attention in that history class.

It had still been a waste of your time, but most things felt like they were. You’re tired, and hungry, and there are little blisters and callous all over your hands from work—not work, if it was work you would be paid—and you really just want to sleep for a million years, but you have to get home first.

You just have to get home.

It had started to storm, while you were inside. Sudden and without warning, heavy and cold, where you couldn’t tell if it was storming, or if the sky was falling down in tiny, biting, frozen fragments. There were safety alerts about harsh conditions when you finished up, and a smarter person would’ve heeded them. Would’ve locked down in the warm building with the vending machines and excellent plumbing, instead of getting in their beaten down car to drive home.

Through the storm, on the iced roads and in the pitch black.

But you’re not a smarter person. All your smart has been spent on stretching budgets and working until your feet were swollen, and you just want to go home. To sleep in a bed that’s a little lumpy, but yours. Eat food that isn’t pre-approved for the lab. Throw some more darts at the photo of your history professor, the one you’d pinned on the back of your door.

You’re so close. Ten minutes. All you can see out the window is blurs of white, disappearing into the darkness and shimmering for split seconds in your high beams. They’re barely enough to see anything but a foot in front of you, and God, you hope there’s no one ahead of you, because if you’re blinding someone and they decided to pull over and yell at you, you’re going to burst into tears-

It happens too quick. You’re not going fast, but you’re going fast enough, and for a second you think you’re seeing things.

He’s like a ghost. A large, broad figure coming into your view—meaning he was close to your car, close enough for your headlights to let you see him—before vanishing. Into nothing.

You haven’t slept in almost forty hours. You’re probably just finally losing your mind.

But you look in your rearview mirror anyway. Just to check.

And there’s an overhead streetlight, casting a faint glow in the night and illuminating the night just enough to let you see shadows, and-

He’s there.

Off to the side of the road.

The figure is standing so still he could be a shadow himself, the streetlight giving him an odd halo, and you can feel him. Feel his eyes deeper in your skin than they should be, feel something very, very deep in your chest starting to stir, feel an odd, magnetic type of force that’s boiling in your blood and shooting up your spine, telling you to go back. Turn around. Nothing in the world is more important than turning around and returning to his side, because you are tired and hungry and thirsty, but this is a newer, rawer need. It’s deeper. More primal. You’ve seen him and if you don’t see him again you may wither away and you need him. More than air, you need to turn around.

You’re not a smarter person, but you’re not an idiot. You’ve haven’t survived this long on your own by helping strange, large men standing in the middle of the road during storms. You’ve heard horror stories and had some of your own, and it is way too long a day already to end with you being hurt-

You won’t get hurt. He can’t hurt you.

He’s a ghost in a storm. You’re pretty sure, in the brief flash you got of him, that there was something red coating his body.

He won’t hurt you. He’s safe.

You need to turn around, before it’s too late.

This is fucking insane.

You’re not a fool. And you just want to go-

That’s home. Home is behind you.

“God- Fuck.” You’ve stopping the car. You’re not sure when you did that, but the engine is idle, and it’s only you and the low sound of the radio as you bow your head to the wheel.

It would be impossibly stupid to turn around.

But that feeling in your gut is loud. Demanding. Running through your blood and turning into a song or hymn, calling you like a war drum to turn around.

And it’s warm.

The whole night is so very cold, but this feeling is making you warm, and home is behind you

You’re driving again, before your brain can catch up.

Making a careful three-point turn, and turning back.

Fuck.

If you die tonight, you’re going to be really pissed off.

He will not let you die.

The man doesn’t move, when you pull off to the side of the road. Doesn’t even flinch, or back away to ensure that he doesn’t get hit. He just stares. Watching you silently, as you fumble for your jacket and gloves.

You glance down for half a moment. Just to unplug your phone. And maybe you should just dial 911 now, and wait in your car until they pick him up-

You should not let anyone else touch him. He’s here for you.

That’s not as reassuring as the song in your blood seems to think it is. And this is just a feeling, based in no fact, just a gravity like, immovable desire to go to him, and you went to him, so staying in the car is fine. You should just check that he’s not in immediate need of medical attention—although there is something pounding on your skull, and it’s telling you help him, all the world will crumble to ash if you don’t help him—and then stay in the-

“Jesus fucking Christ!”

He’s right at the window. Staring at you.

And the whole night is so dark and gray, but this man’s eyes are really blue. Searing, mind-numbing blue, and you suddenly remember being a kid, and seeing the ocean for the first time, and wandering into the water even though you couldn’t swim.

You hadn’t drowned, then. The riptide had tried to pull you out, but you’d watched a PBS documentary the night before, and it had said not to panic.

That the worst thing you could ever do was be afraid. That you needed to float, and wait for help.

This man is the ocean. And the riptide.

And the Coast Guard, that had found you, put you on a boat, and wrapped you in a blanket.

He’s home, that song in your blood whines. You’re home.

You really must be losing your fucking mind.

Because, holding the man’s gaze, you open the door.

He takes a step back, avoiding the door slamming into his gut, but returns in a second. Simply standing tall and rigid as you take him in, not speaking or offering any sort of introduction, but not lunging for you and strangling you into the dirt, either.

“Hi.” You whisper, and he only blinks. “I, um, are you…”

He’s staring right into you. Deep into you, sparking that song into a choir, but he’s not speaking.

He seems to be… waiting. Puffing out his chest slightly and tracking your every movement, close but not close enough to touch you.

Almost putting himself on display, for you to asses.

He’s tall, but most broad. Muscular. Longer hair that looks a little ratty, like he’s managed to grow it almost to his shoulders, but nobody’s bothered to mention conditioner or a brush to him. That’s certainly blood staining his face, but it looks smudged—as if he’s wiped it off a few times, or its been washed away in the storm—and there seems to be a tear in his dark clothing, near his shoulder.

Something keeps tugging you closer, telling you to touch the gash in the fabric to check the damage even though this man is not your patient, and you haven’t made a single oath-

You don’t need an oath. Not for him.

That’s not helpful. You’d help him because he was a person, and you might be trapped in his proximity, but he’s covered in blood and not saying a single word and holding-

A gun.

That’s a gun, in his hand. His shining, silver hand, and-

It’s metal.

This man has a metal hand. Arm. The whole arm is shining in the low light, and he’s holding a gun.

All thoughts are leading to the same conclusion. Whoever he is, he’s not just a person.

No. He’s yours.

The song really needs to shut up, or you’re going to hit a new peak of stupid. This man is yours—he’s not, logically, but rationality went out the window when you turned the car around—and you think he’s in pain. All his weight is on one side of his body, and the longer the look the more certain you are that a dark stain is bleeding into the fabric on his shoulder, and you could help him, but he still hasn’t even spoken.

He’s just been looking down at you with a blank expression. What you think is a blank expression.

You can’t really tell.

Half his face is covered in a mask.

And something in you hates that. You want to see him. All of him.

He’s yours.

“I, can you,” you point to your own face. “Please?”

He gives a sharp nod, and the mask comes off.

He’s attractive. Really attractive. Lightning seems to shoot through your whole body at the sight of him, because it’s like staring in the sun with no need to ever look away.

And he’s all yours-

The song needs to calm the hell down. Bigger problems.

“Do you need help?”

The man just stares.

“I- I know I’m a stranger, but your shoulder-“ You nod to the tear. “If you need help, I know how to do stitches.”

Still nothing.

“My kit is at my house, but it’s not far from here, and- As long as you promise not to shoot me-“

The man cuts you off with rough, smooth words that you don’t understand. It sounds Eastern European. Slavic.

Fuck.

You let out a slow breath, and it turns to mist in the cold. The snow is sinking into your clothing, freezing it and sticking to your skin, and you aren’t cold inside your body, but your fingers are starting to go numb, and-

The man starts to herd you, and for some reason, you don’t run or scream or fight. You just let him walk you backwards until you’re pressed to the car, and then he pulls you forward.

Right into his chest.

You still can’t scream. You’re not paralyzed with fear, and all the nerves in your body are a little alight from shock, but everything else is impossibly peaceful. Alarms that should be setting off humming with the song, and your body is relaxing in his hold, and what the fuck is happening-

Suddenly, you’re behind the driver’s seat, and the door is closing behind you. The light flashes off the man’s metal arm as he stomps around the hood, and before you can figure out if you should get back out or call for help or call for him—you don’t even know his name—or just hit him with your fucking car-

Don’t hit him with your car, you can’t, he’s the world and nothing will ever be okay again if you hit him with-

The man opens the passenger’s door, slides into the seat with a grunt, and now you’re sure he’s hurt. It’s twisting in your stomach, and he’s pulling back to collar of his shirt to check something, but you don’t need to see it to know.

He’s hurt.

You can fix it.

“I, um,” you clear your throat, tapping your fingers on the wheel, and the man looks at you with a slight frown. “I’m going to drive us to my house, okay?”

He doesn’t respond.

You don’t know what you expected.

But it’s still unnerving. The whole ride is almost dead quiet, and when you turn on the radio—anything to drown out the song in your blood, that doesn’t seem to understand that you can’t just fix him by touching him—the man’s frown deepens.

“Do you, the song-“ You need to get a grip. “If you don’t like this song, I can change it. If you want.”

You chance another glance at him, and he gives a short shake of his head.

It’s the most you get out of him. Movements. When you park and ask if he needs help getting inside, he ignores you and stomps to your door, waiting until you’re out of the car to herd you inside. When you ask him to sit, he does, and when you tell him you need to see where he’s hurt, his whole shirt comes off.

You blink at him, and swallow.

You’d just meant he should pull down his collar, or roll up his sleeve.

But now-

He’s muscular, but you hadn’t really expected anything else. What’s making you freeze is the scars. Pale in his skin and running like tiny rivers around where the metal arm has been fused into his body. It takes up most of his shoulder, and when you reach out to touch one of the plates, he doesn’t even blink.

It’s starting to twist the song into something furious. Something happened to him, and you can feel it when you trace over one of the raised marks. Something hurt him, and it’s stinging on your fingertips.

They’re faded. Still visible, still obvious, but faded enough that you know they’ve been there for a while.

Some very twisted, wrathful part of you wants to pick up the gun he’d dropped on your table, and figure out how to make whoever did this to him regret it.

It’s far from your craziest thought of the night. But you still don’t even know how to use a gun, and you have no clue who he is, or if the people who hurt him are still alive.

Maybe that’s their blood, on his cheek and dried on his clothing.

The thought doesn’t disgust you half as much as it probably should.

It’s been a weird night.

“Is the-“ You swallow, brushing his hair away from his right shoulder. It’s a small gash, but not a graze. “Were you shot?”

He nods.

“Did you get the bullet out?” He seems like he’d be able to do that.

And he nods again.

“Alright, do I, can I give you stitches?”

The man blinks, a deep line furrowing in his brow, but he nods again, and you let out a long breath.

That’s relief, clearing in your head. You weren’t sure what you would’ve done if he said no.

Probably drown in the sound of his voice, if this pattern of him just existing and you being ready to offer him your life in from your hands continues.

“I have to clean it, first. To prevent infection.”

He doesn’t respond. The man only tracks you around your tiny kitchen as you grab your kit, some paper towels—you just cleaned the floor—and, at the last second, a rag for him to bite down on.

You try to hold it out to him, but he just stares at you.

“It’s going to hurt.” You mumble. “And I can give you some Advil, after, but right now, this,” you shake the rag in your hand. “Is the best I can do.”

He blinks, and you sigh.

“Can you please open your mouth?”

His jaw drops open in half a second, and you frown—that movement was incredibly mechanical, like you’d hit a button and a mechanism had clicked him into action—before carefully placing the rag between his teeth.

“It’s clean.” You tell him, although you don’t think he’ll care all that much. “I just ran it through the wash.“

The man blinks again, tracking you as you drop down at his side, and get to work. It’s a quick job, with the bullet gone. Rubbing alcohol as disinfectant, quick stitches, gauze, and a bandage for safety, then he’s done.

Not a single grunt or sound of pain leaves him, though. You’d think he was mute, if he hadn’t spoken in that Slavic language. And you be resigned to him maybe not knowing English, if he hadn’t been listening to you, all night. Doing as you asked him to, nodding and shaking his head, quite obviously understanding what you were saying.

But never fucking speaking.

And now, as you wipe the blood from his face with the rag, he’s still just staring at you. The silence is starting to suffocate you, and the longer it stretches the louder the song gets. Tell you to hold him, know him, protect him from whoever caused those scars, and get closer. As close as possible.

You’re already touching his face and stood between his legs. He’s already branding himself into you memory, just by looking at you. You’re not sure what else is possibly expected.

But you can’t sit in this silence.

“How’d you get shot?”

Nothing.

“I, um, I’ve never been shot.” You offer, and god, you sound dumb. “I’ve never broken a bone, either. I’d say I’m lucky, but I feel like it’s just in exchange for, you know. Other things.”

He blinks.

“Like I’ve been to the hospital a lot. For other reasons, like, um, internal bleeding.” There’s no possible reason to tell him this. You can’t stop. “One time I got a concussion. And another time, I- Um- Well, there were the psych wards. And the spinal tap, and the stomach pump, and the time I thought my ribs were broken, but it was really just that internal bleeding again-“

Your rambling dies in your throat, as the man’s metal hand moves to hold your hip. It’s an impossibly delicate touch. And the metal should be cold, but you’re still so warm. It’s like a fever, buzzing over your skin and lighting you up from the inside out, and the man is still just watching you.

He’s watching you. It’s wrapping around you like a shield. Like a blanket on a boat.

“I think you can understand me.” You whisper, and it’s not really a question, but the man nods. “Can you please say something?”

He frowns, and opens his mouth, but closes it just as fast. Shaking his head, his grip tightening slightly, and this is the riptide. It’s crashing into him instead of you, and he’s fighting it, and that’s not how you survive.

“What’s your name?”

It’s your lifeline. Your offer for him to give you anything, anything at all, and stop fighting.

He takes it. And you were right.

You’re going to drown in his voice.

“I don’t know.”

“Oh.” You swallow, and nod. It makes sense. He didn’t have any ID, he was shot but won’t say how, and you have no idea how long he was out in that storm before you found him.

You should tell him to go. Or call the cops. It’s almost three in the morning, and the exhaustion is crashing back into you so fucking fast as the song only grows louder, telling you that you’re safe. He’s safe, and he’s here, so you’re safe and if okay to rest.

Rest sounds nice. You’re starting to get a little blurry-eyed, and the only thing that keeps shocking you awake is the drifting through of sending him away. He’s a stranger. With a gun. But you can’t send him away, because he’s safe, and he’s yours, and that same deep, primal thing that made you turn around on the road is making your say-

“I- Um, you can stay here, for the night. If you want. And we can figure out who you are in the morning.”

The man nods, and something in his eyes relaxes.

He’s not fighting anymore.

When you tell him to shower then change into cleaner clothing—from the back of your closet, smelling like absolutely nothing at all—he does. When you give him water, he drinks it, and when you say you’re going to go shower, you open the door after to find him standing silently in the hall.

He scans over your body, wrapped only in a towel, with a small frown. Then he nods, you clear whatever test he was giving you, and that’s it.

You change in your room, and he waits outside the door, and when you open it he remains perfectly still, holding your gaze with something turning behind his gaze that you don’t understand.

He looks nice, wearing normal, clean clothing. The shirt is a bit small, and it’s clinging to his body in a way you can’t bring yourself to complain about.

You want to brush his hair. It’s still damp, and starting to look at little tangled, and that song in your blood really wants you to brush his hair. It’s crossing an odd, dangerous line, but you don’t really care anymore.

And you when you ask him, he just looks incredibly confused, so you guide him to sit on the carpet on your room, and get to work.

He doesn’t fight you, or push you away. You start talking just to drown out the sound of your heart in your ears and the song telling you get closer, and he listens. You know he’s listening, because he grunts at all the right parts in your stories, and sits a little taller when you tell him about your creepy history professor, and moves his hand to hold your calf when you tell him about your ex, who’s shirt that belonged to, and who gave you a few or those trips to the hospital.

He can feel this too. He’s holding you, listening, and touching you because—you think—he can feel this too.

When you finish with his hair, his head tips back to watch you. His lips are pink. And full. And he really is so handsome, and this is the ocean. Calling you. As big as you want it to be, if you’re brave enough. Dangerous, but not enough for you to care.

You clear your throat, trying to cling to one last bit of sanity. “Are you hungry?”

He frowns again, but nods.

“Do you like ice cream?”

He pauses. For a long, heavy second that look of something grinding in his brain returns, and before you can cast another lifeline, the look clears.

“I do.” He murmurs, as if he’s unsure of his own words. “Strawberry. Or cookie dough.”

You swallow. “I have mint chip.”

“Okay.”

Eating is silent too, but it’s not the tight silence. It’s easier. And when you see him eyeing the chocolate syrup and push it forward with raised brows, he takes it.

With shaking hands and small smile that has gotten you drunk on nothing at all.

When you guide him to your bed he lies down, but doesn’t close his eyes until you drop at his side.

He’s a stranger. In your bed. With a metal arm, who’d been covered in blood only an hour ago, and whose gun is still sitting in your kitchen.

But you glance over at him—watching you, always watching you—and you’ve never felt safer in your life.

This time, he breaks the silence. His words softer, but still clear.

“Do you have a name?”

“Yes.”

He raises his brows, and fuck it. He’s already in your bed, and he’s asking, and every fiber of your body wants nothing more than to tell him. For him to know you, hold you, protect you from storms and come closer.

You tell him your name, and he repeats it back with a small nod.

“That’s beautiful.”

You flush, the song beginning to glow, and your eyes dart up to the ceiling. “Thanks.”

When you fall asleep, it’s fast. Easy. Warm all the way into your bone, and that shield he’s casting around your body sinking deeper, and deeper, all the way into your bones. There are points when you’re half-lucid, and you could swear he was holding you. Wrapped around your body and keeping you carefully to his chest, and it fits.

He fits.

Whoever this man is, whatever he is, he fits because he’s yours. In a strange, pure way, he’s yours.

But when you wake up in the morning, he’s gone.

And you wouldn’t be sure he was real at all, if it weren’t for that song in your blood, wailing and sobbing that he’s gone.

Calling him, although you know he won’t answer, to return.

End Note: This one's gonna be angsty AND fluffy. Right in the sweet spot. Enjoy the series!

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windssong · 2 months ago

Text

To Hold The Sun // Astarion x gnTav

series summary: 5 years after the main events of Baldur’s Gate 3, you and Astarion have spent that time searching for a cure that would make it possible for him to walk in the sun again. During one of your adventures, you come across an ancient tome that promises a cure and much, much more.

Chapter 1 - And The Three Magic Words Are…

chapter summary: You are determined to do whatever it takes to make sure Astarion can feel the suns warmth once again. What you didn’t expect, was an ancient spell from an ancient book to do more than that.

words: 3k+

tags/warnings: 18+MDNI, brief smut, romance, high fantasy, canon level violence, fluff, some angst,

authors note:

This is one of my favorite ideas I’ve come up with yet. Just pure, high fantasy fun. Enjoy reading!

If you could only choose one moment to anchor yourself to, it would be right here. Shuddering underneath his dancing fingers, chasing each other's lips forever.

Astarion sucked in a gasp of sweet air, letting out a moan locked deep within his chest. He fell against your body as he came inside you. Legs tangled together underneath sheets that stuck against salty skin.

All that was left were two souls breathing heavily against one another.

He nuzzled his nose into your hair, catching his breath. You ran your hands through his white locks. You were the only person allowed to do that. It was soft falling in between your fingers. Like water in the palm of your hands, he drowned in your embrace.

Both of you had returned to the city late last night. The same city you and your companions saved years ago. You decided to find rest and say hello to some old friends at The SongFire Inn. Lakrissa had opened the Inn a few years back, along with Alfria who was also running her own bardic school.

The SongFire Inn was built near the edge of Rivington. Not too far from Wyrm’s Crossing but far enough away that you had to squint to make out its bridge from your window. For how spacious the Inn was, it still had all the comforts and furnishings of a welcoming home.

It was a nice change of scenery compared to the dingy and questionable Inns and abandoned homes you’d stayed in over the years. Although, sleeping beneath the stars is where you were most at ease.

A fireplace blazed across the room. The flames licked the humid air. Its golden light flickered across your naked bodies.

Since you had known Astarion, you had come to one simple conclusion. That there was no greater comfort than his presence. He was a tattered blanket slowly stitching itself back together. Every day, new patterns formed and colors made anew. You didn’t mind the icy air finding its way through little holes in the fabric. It kept you warm all the same.

He was still inside of you when he started laughing.

It took you a moment to gather your thoughts. Your head was still spinning from the aftermath of your orgasm. “What’s so funny?”

You could feel his smile spread against your shoulder. “Nothing darling. You just feel good. You make me feel good.”

He kissed your neck, lips drunk against your skin. “Thank you.”

His fangs ghosted over the faded marks where he first fed on you all those years ago. Then over the spot where he drank from you last night, when you ripped each other's clothes off, covered in weeks worth of grime and rain from your travels.

The pads of your fingers drew circles on his pale skin. “What did I do to deserve you?”

He grinned, peppering kisses along your collarbone. “I have absolutely no idea. It’s a mystery to me as well.” He paused above your new scar.

His shoulders tensed. You could practically feel the muscles tightening underneath his skin. You continued massaging the nape of his neck, hoping to distract him from the memory you knew he was reliving.

That memory, that fear of almost losing you 2 tendays passed, continued to stick with him. He couldn’t shake it. You knew it still bothered him, even though you had made a full recovery.

His arms tightened around you. He held you like he did then. On that frozen lake thick with snow and blood. Your blood.

The first time you heard him pray was on that cold night. It was more of a plea, to whatever god would listen. He knew it was futile, it had always been for him. But, he continued anyway, waiting for the health potion to kick in and take all your agony away.

His eyes raked over the burn mark right in the middle of your chest as it faded into and around your neck. Maybe if he stared hard enough, it would go away and everything would be okay again.

The skin around the circular mark was still inflamed and showed no signs of healing properly. He hated how painful it looked. He saw how your hands gripped the fabric over the scar, face wincing in discomfort over the past couple weeks.

The amulet left behind its imprint. The design that melted into your skin was a cluster of vines growing on top of each other. He could make out what looked to be a small dagger hidden between the overgrown plants. The thick scar tissue made it difficult to tell.

He became all too aware of his scar on his back.

You brought his lips to yours again, snapping him out of that awful memory. “Astarion.” His name rolled off your tongue in a soft whisper. You licked your lips, tasting yourself there. “I’m okay now. You know that, right? I’m not going anywhere.”

The Vampire Spawn sighed. He slipped out of you, sitting up against the wooden headboard. You missed the fullness of him as he left you empty.

“I do.” He glared at your scar. “Mostly. Doesn’t mean the thought of you choking on your blood doesn’t haunt every corner of my mind.” His face was cloaked in pain, the memory still so fresh.

It was a little over 6 tendays ago when Gale sent you that fateful letter and enchanted amulet that led you to your near doom.

After 5 years of research, The Wizard of Waterdeep had finally uncovered a potential lead for a cure. One that would let Vampires walk in the sun again. And potentially, cure Vampirism as a whole.

What he had discovered was an amulet. One that apparently belonged to one of the very first Vampires. Before her untimely death, Maeve wrote a book titled, To Hold The Sun. It was said to be a collection of spells she created herself in a desperate attempt to walk in the sun again.

After Maeve’s mysterious death, her remains, amulet, book all disappeared. Even her Vampiric Castle, Crimsons Haven, said to be the size of a small country, was all lost to the ever forward momentum of time. No one knew whose hands or what cavern held them. Or where her kingdom had fallen to ruin. Or if they and Maeve even existed in the first place.

That was, until Gale came across the amulet himself while adventuring. His research indicated that the lost tome could be found using the amulet as some sort of compass. Whoever wore the priceless artifact was guided to where the book rested.

Astarion didn’t like the styling of the necklace. Said it was, “too old-fashioned,” for his tastes. So, after teasing him about his sense of fashion, it was up to you to wear it. The circular material was warm against your skin. It glowed a soft yellow. A mini sun in the palm of your hands.

With the enchanted item and another adventure underway, the two of you let the amulet guide you onward.

It was a long shot.

You knew that. Astarion knew that.

Years spent searching countless books, poems and glyphs, investigating every town, cavern, and hideout on The Sword Coast had led to absolutely nothing. You couldn’t even find a temporary spell that worked. Just empty chests and promises.

But, even with all those disappointments and hiding in the dark away from the light, Astarion still smiled as if he already found the cure. He was free and finally able to forge his own path, without a puppet master's strings forcing him to do his bidding.

It was the happiest you’d ever been, on this journey with him. Yet, you couldn’t help but feel jaded after turning over nearly every root and stone in Faerun, only to find nothing but dirt and bones.

But this new piece of information changed things. It gave you, and most importantly Astarion, hope again. No matter how much of a long shot it seemed to be, you would take it. Even if it hurt you.

The amulet led to a cave only accessible across a frozen lake. That night, a blizzard raged. It was so cold, your eyelids refused to shut and fingers and toes went numb.

With an Elixir of Ice Resistance, the potion helped you travel that extra mile over the icy tundra. Astarion complained about the aftertaste and your coat that was apparently, in his words, “warmer than his.” You reminded him he was a Vampire and wore the Hoarfrost Boots Wyll gifted him when they all had reunited. Meanwhile, it took your full concentration not to slip and fall on the ice. Astarion walked past you when you did eventually fall over.

When you finally made your way over the treacherous landscape, you reached a shallow cave, finding To Hold The Sun nestled in the arms of a dead bandit. By the look of the body, it was in a frozen state of decay. It was difficult to tell how long it’d been there. Days, weeks, years, his body was forever trapped in the freezing temperature.

Maeve’s amulet burned like a beacon of light against your chest as you inched closer to the tome. There was no sign of damage on the book. It looked as brand new as a fresh plate of armor or newly forged steel. You would’ve never guessed it was centuries old.

After years of traveling and searching, you finally found something of substance. The relief was palpable. You could see it on Astarions face too. Eyes full of wonder. You didn’t want that flicker of hope to leave him ever again.

This was it.

You were unaware of the dark magic radiating off the tome until you held it in your hands. Astarion was too late to notice to stop you in time.

Darkness enveloped you, covering whatever it touched. The ball of shadow circled you in a violent rush of energy. Faces made up of a vine like substance flashed before you. Dead creatures from the past. They looked like Vampires. The red eyes told you were right.

Then, a blaze of heat moved through your chest. The amulet started melting into your skin, leaving behind its ancient mark. It paralyzed your entire body, but you could still use your vocal cords. The scream that ripped passed your lungs cut through Astarion in ways he’d never been cut before.

He tried desperately to reach you, but the darkness sent him flying back onto the icy lake. But that would not deter him. He tried again and again and was met with the same fate.

The thin layer of ice began to crack. Red tentacles moved their bodies up through the wedges. Those sinister vines bubbled up from underneath, topping the surface. They moved along the cracks like trees in the wind.

Eventually, the magic was sucked back into the book, and you were left on the cold ground, suffocating on blood. It was as if the necklace entered your body just to choke you from the inside out. If it wasn’t for the potion you had left in your bag, you would’ve been dead.

When you picked up the book again, you used part of your coat to store it into your bag. Astarion refused to ever let your skin touch that cursed tome again. He wanted to leave it there or destroy it himself for what it did to you. But, you couldn’t risk another missed opportunity. So, to his dismay, you took it.

You understood his worry. The mark just below your neck still stung with a fiery grip. The closest thing you could describe the feeling too was Karlachs burning hands. But even that felt more like a warm touch versus the searing pain of the scar.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.” Your fingers found his own, eyes softening. “I put myself at risk, and that wasn’t fair to you. And me.”

Astarion shook his head, meeting your gentle gaze. He squeezed your hand, testing to see whether you were really there or not. He paused, choosing his next words with care. “I… I think we should stop looking for a cure.”

The air exited the room and your lungs. “I don’t understand.” You said.

“You will. Someday.” Astarion slid out of the large bed, hand outstretched towards you.

You frowned. “This isn’t about me. It’s about you. And what you want. I thought you wanted this?” You took his hand anyway.

“What I want is you. Right here.” He kissed each knuckle for every word. “Safe. With me. That’s more than enough for me.”

You took your hand away, holding his face with your palms. “But you could have the sun?”

The flames illuminated your bodies in a golden glow as you held each other.

Astarion brushed his forehead against your own. His red eyes matched the embers. “Are you trying to make me say, “you’re all the sun I need,” or whatever? Because if you are, that’s petty vanity I wouldn't even stoop myself so low for. I’m impressed.”

You let out a short laugh, pushing him away playfully. “You wish.”

He grinned, catching you in his arms. “Come on now. Let’s get cleaned up.” Astarion led you into the bath connected to the large bedroom Lakrissa let you rent for free. You made sure to leave some coin behind anyway.

After an hour or so in the water, you returned to bed in comfortable clothing.

Astarion fell asleep in your arms. You, on the other hand, couldn’t sleep. You kept replaying the previous conversation over and over again in your head.

Did he really want to stop? Every day, you two put your lives in danger in pursuit of this cure. Why was this incident any different? Why was this the breaking point?

Your fingers brushed against his skin as you watched him sleep. He looked so at peace.

You wanted to give this gift. To walk towards the light without the fear of burning away.

The more selfish part of yourself thought of your old body withering away as he stood there, helpless and ageless.

So, you quietly slipped out of the covers and closed the door to the other room. You sat with your back against the wall, bag in hand.

Since the accident, you tried your hardest to ignore the book. You were going to deliver it to Rolan tonight, to see what he could decipher from the ancient language. His tower held information beyond even his understanding. There were answers to be found there, and Astarion was sure they’d find them eventually.

But, the book was calling to you. It had been since the moment you laid your hands on it. There was a soft whisper in the breeze on the road back to Baldur's Gate. Then another when you entered the Inn, and another one right now. An invisible string was pulling you closer and closer to the tome.

Before you could register what you were doing, the book was open in your hands. The magic stayed at bay this time. It covered each page in a sea of black smoke. The language was unrecognizable. Yet, it was obvious that each spell was written in someone’s blood.

As you flipped through the old pages, the scar on your chest burned. The pain grew worse as you went through the tome. It was almost unbearable, but you couldn’t stop. You were rolling down a cliff and you couldn’t fight gravity. That was, until it ceased as soon as you stopped on a certain page.

There was a large Castle drawn in dried blood. It took up two pages. You assumed it was Crimsons Haven. Dark vines covered the Castle like moss. It looked similar to the twisted tentacle like force that attacked you just days prior. And the pattern on Maeve’s amulet branded to your neck. The details stretched far beyond the realm of any artist's abilities. It was so real, you could dip your hand into the sketch and crawl right into the ancient Castle.

Was your hand halfway through the page?

Then, three words unknown to you, words you’ve never heard nor spoken before, left your lips.

The wind made a ghastly noise, piercing your ears. Creatures dressed in robes of red and black filled the entire room, rushing past you violently. Gathering all the willpower you could muster, you shut the book as the scar burned away at your flesh. The shrieking seemed to last for hours, but it was only a moment later when it stopped altogether.

You took your hands off your ears, surveying the surrounding room. You figured you were the only one who heard the horrible sound given Astarion had yet to come and check on you.

Everything was in its exact place, except for the book. It was gone.

You scrambled to your knees, looking everywhere for the old tome. Only a tiny, red tentacle of smoke remained reaching up from the wooden floorboards. “Shit.” You ran a hand through your hair. And just like that, your hopes of finding that cure were dashed away once again.

You pressed your lips together, trying to stop an avalanche of tears from falling on top of you. When you stumbled out of the bathroom, head low and tail between your legs, you found Astarion staring out the window.

Your blood ran cold. “What are you doing!? Get back!” Before you rushed over to cover the window, you noticed there was no sunlight shining through it.

That couldn’t be? It was still morning.

“What in the hells...” Astarion pointed frantically out the window.

As you walked closer, you saw a large shadow looming over every building as far as you could see.

The whole town was covered in a cloak of red and black smoke, and it ran for miles. All the way from Riventon, passed Baldur's Gate and to the ocean. Didn’t matter where you looked, it was caged in like a wild animal.

Astarion lifted your chin with his finger. “Up, darling.”

Your eyes broadened, taking in the brand new scenery in front of you.

A Castle was floating in the sky, blocking out the sun.

The kingdom-sized Castle was shrouded in a layer of shadow, wrapping around the structure in red and black vines. Similar to the magic guarding the book and the amulet stuck to your skin. Layers of dark and Vampiric magic swam over the ancient stone in a protective cocoon.

The strangest part wasn’t even the floating Castle on its own or sea magic swimming around it. It was the position that left you at a loss for words.

It was floating upside down. The tips of the Castle towers nearly touched the buildings below. It sailed above the landscape, one brush away from crumbling to the ground.

“Oh no.” You said, taking a step back. The realization hit you as hard as the spell did.

It was the same Castle from the ancient tome. Crimsons Haven. Down to the exact details. And now it was here, looming over the city you had saved.

“What have I done?”

Astarion held a finger up. “And what exactly do you mean by tha-” He paused, narrowing his eyes. “Your scar. It’s gone.”

Your fingers brushed over the burnt area. He was right. There was no longer a layer of thick skin there. It had healed instantly.

But now an even bigger problem remained. Thanks to you and that book. And it was looming over the entire city, ready to swallow it whole.

—

CH 2 - coming soon

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion ancunin #bg3 #astarion fanfic #bg3 fanfic #ravens masterlist #to hold the sun #to hold the sun masterlist

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