#who knew i was still even capable of that?

[holysmokesblog]

The Gray Reunion

Vi x reader

Words: 1.5k

Warnings: Violence, mentions of illness, blood, slightly spicy kisses ;)

Summary: In the midst of the chaos, you struggle to help the people of the Lanes. The truth behind the disaster sparks a confrontation that will test your bonds

Note:English is not my first language, sorry

In the past few hours, your modest apartment had turned into chaos. At least a dozen people had knocked on your door seeking help, intoxicated by something you hadn’t seen in years.

They could barely fit into the small living room, which also served as your kitchen and bedroom, waiting for you to help them, coughing out toxic fumes. Everyone expected you, just as your father had done in the past, to help or offer a solution, but you were completely lost, fumbling with medical supplies that had been stored away for years.

"The gray," murmured an older woman who was holding her husband as he struggled to breathe.

"That’s impossible," you replied. "We haven’t had problems with that in years, the ventilation system..."

"Then there must be a leak," she interrupted, raising her voice before a violent cough cut her off. You watched as her hand was splattered with blood. She inhaled deeply before continuing, "I’ve been through this before, but we don’t have the years on us anymore. Your father treated it countless times. Doesn’t he have notes somewhere?"

You sighed in defeat. "I’ve lost most of Dad’s things over the years. All I have left is what you see." You placed the stethoscope on a child’s back to listen to his breathing. "There’s nothing I can do. We just have to wait for the lungs to clean themselves... and stay far from the leak."

A collective groan arose from the people packed into your small space. "And how are we supposed to do that? We live there! Where can we go?" Various complaints began to rise.

"I wish I had an answer for you, but I don’t. We just have to wait until they repair the leak."

"They’re not going to fix it! It’s those damn enforcers! They’re killing us to get to Jinx!" Another wave of murmurs rippled through the room.

You tried to remain calm. Could that be true? Were the people above really capable of poisoning everyone just to catch Jinx? Those above had taken so much from you already that it seemed entirely plausible. But then an image came to mind—Violet. She was in Piltover now, and she would never let this happen, not to the place that had been her home for so many years and still was yours. Right?

You continued your work, trying to calm the rebellion brewing in your living room, tending to the most severe cases of nosebleeds and eye hemorrhages. But there wasn’t much more you could do. Around three in the morning, the last person finally left.

Exhausted, you collapsed onto your bed, utterly defeated. Chances were, all the patients you’d seen today would return tomorrow with new symptoms. It was impossible to recover from the gray while constantly exposed to it. You knew that if it was a crack, it would take years to fix. And if it was intentional, if they were hunting Jinx... that would also take time. There was no way they’d catch her.

A knock on the door kept you from falling completely asleep. You cursed under your breath—new patients. Your father’s voice echoed in your mind, reminding you how he wouldn’t rest until he’d helped the last person who needed him. You repeated the phrase to yourself before getting up to answer the door, only to be met with a great surprise.

Vi stood there, but the most shocking thing was her outfit. She was dressed as a full-fledged officer, an enforcer. You couldn’t suppress a gasp of utter disbelief. You had spent years of your life together; you knew her story as well as your own, and never would you have imagined the possibility of her wearing something like that—not even as a joke.

"I’m truly surprised," you murmured. She scoffed in irritation. You stepped aside to let her in, and she dropped her new, heavy gloves onto your floor. You bit your lip to keep from scolding her.

The past few days had been madness: Vi’s return, the search for Jinx, and your responsibilities trying to honor your father’s legacy had left you with barely a moment to breathe.

"Lots of patients?" she asked, trying to start a conversation.

"Too many," you replied, collapsing onto the bed again. She still stood awkwardly in the middle of the room. "You can lie down if you want... Unless you’re scared of dirtying that pretty uniform." She let out a short laugh before lying down next to you.

"I’ve barely seen you since you came back... I don’t think I ever got to tell you how happy I am that you’re here... Despite everything."

"Yeah, I suppose the first hug you gave me said it all."

"I mean it, Vi," you said, turning to face her. "Everything got so hard, but now you’re here, and I feel like things will get better."

She smiled faintly. "Yeah, we just have to fix a few things, and everything will improve." She propped herself up to sit beside you. "You look really pretty," she added. "Those dark circles suit you."

You couldn’t help but laugh. For just a moment, all the bad things disappeared. It was just the two of you in your small apartment—no Jinx, no gray, no problems in the Lanes. Just you two. Without thinking, you leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to her lips. She froze for a moment.

"I thought you missed me," she teased.

"I did."

"That’s not a reunion kiss. This is." Without warning, she leaned over and kissed you deeply. You welcomed her eagerly—it was like a breath of fresh air, something rare where you’d grown up. The kisses grew more intense, and your hands wandered over her torso and back. Vi positioned herself on top of you, using her hand for support on your pillow. But she quickly pulled it back.

"What’s this?" she asked.

You looked to the side, confused, and saw a large bloodstain. You hadn’t even noticed it. You sighed. "I’m really sorry." You sat up slightly, but Vi didn’t move off you. You grabbed the pillow and threw it to the other side of the room. "It’s been such a complicated day with the ventilation cracks."

"Yeah, don’t worry. I’m not at my best, either."

"Doesn’t seem like it." You kissed her intensely again, and she adjusted immediately.

"When all this is over, we should go on a real date. Like dinner and all that cheesy stuff."

You laughed against her lips at her failed attempt at romance. "I just hope it’s soon."

"It will be," she declared confidently. "Once they catch Jinx, everything will get better, and life in the Lanes will change—just like Vander always wanted."

Vi’s hands slipped under your shirt as you shared another passionate kiss, but her words lingered in your mind.

"Wait, wait, no," you said, pushing her slightly so she moved off you.

"Oh, do you want to take control, doll?" she teased.

"Did you have anything to do with this?" She looked confused, so you pushed her again to sit beside you. "The gas? Was it you?"

Vi stayed silent, hesitant to answer.

"Is this some kind of joke? You’re poisoning us just to catch your sister?" you shouted, furious.

"Hey, hey, it’s not like that... I mean, yes, but not how you think."

"You bitch," you spat, jumping out of bed. "Do you even understand the damage you’ve caused?"

"Listen to me. We used the gray to clear the streets, to keep people safe," she tried to explain.

"Used? Who’s ‘we’? You and your new enforcer friends? Well, you didn’t protect anyone!" You exploded. "Do you have any idea how many people you hurt? At least fifty came here today!"

"She’s a murderer! She killed half the council, she—"

"She’s not a traitor," you cut her off sharply.

The room fell silent as you watched Vi clench her fists in anger. You’d struck a nerve.

"Did you really do this for her? Or did your new enforcer friend convince you?" you spat, unable to hide your disgust.

"Don’t call her that!" Vi’s hands grabbed the collar of your shirt, pushing you against the wall.

You stayed inches apart for what felt like ten seconds before she let go, though she didn’t step back. Her heavy breathing mixed with yours, and you could smell the perfume from her uniform—a scent impossible to find down here.

"Get out of my house," you whispered.

"You have to understand—"

"Get out!"

Vi sighed loudly, grabbed her heavy gloves from the floor, and walked to the door. You opened it for her, stepping aside. She crossed the threshold without meeting your gaze but stopped in the doorway.

"I hope your new friend is worth it." She didn’t turn around, just kept walking down the dark street, away from your home.

You couldn’t stop the tears from falling.

What had you expected? Nothing had stayed the same over the years.

You locked the door before collapsing into bed. Tomorrow would be another hard day in the Lanes.

[pedge-page]

Joel Dealing with Fam: Pool Days

Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: baby Ellie remembers how to swim.

- - - -

Ellie knows how to swim. She went to all the infant swim lessons and survival trainings just like Sarah did. You have no fear of Ellie's swimming capabilities.

But at some point over the winter, she forgot she knew, and developed a fear of water. The four of you took a trip to the local pool, where Sarah and Joel jumped right in. Even as Sarah was determined to take Joel down with all her might (to absolutely no sucess) Joel still had his arms stretched out ready to catch Ellie to jump in.

Ellie--bless her bitty chubby soul-- had no interest to jump in. She was almost two at this point. Bucket hat and fat floaties on her shoulders, she twirled her fingers anxiously, looking away from daddy with drawn browns.

"Its okay, baby, daddy is gonna catch you!" He encourages, curling his hands towards himself in come hither motion "You don't even have to swim!"

But she shakes her head, running back to you and clutching your legs for dear life.

"That's okay Ellie. We don't have to swim today. Do you wanna sit with me?"

She nods, her head buried between your knees.

So you and Ellie sat on the hot concrete and watches curiously ad ants lined up, grabbed crumbs of discarded food, and filed away to their cracks in the sidewalk. She pointed to them curiously, only occasionally glancing at the pool before shifting away and dedicating all her focus on the very dry ground.

The next day, you sat on the shallow edge of the stairs into the pool. It took some coaxing, but Ellie sat on the dry edge, and only managed to dip her large toes in at a time. Sarah continued to climb atop Joel like a tree, grunting and trying to pull his chest down knock him under water, but he just kept grabbing her and yeeting her 6 feet in the air to splash back into the pool.

Next day, Ellie's ankles kicked in the water, but she was still too afriad to get in any further.

"I dont get it. She knows how to swim," Joel complained. His biggest gripe is why he has to bring all these floaties day after day if neither Sarah nor Ellie were using them. He was also feeling a big dejected. You could tell he wanted Ellie to trust him with this. He was a great dad.

"Its a mental thing..." it really was. You didnt have any other explanation for it. You weren't gonna traumatize her by pushing her in and forcing her to fight or flight.

The four of you got close to the edge. Ellie saw the water and immediately retreated back towards the furthest fence, more content with swimming in the artificial grass.

"I figured she'd want to get in with me," he pouts. Joel saw it all going differently. That Ellie would feel more comfortable being around Joel, even if he carried her all day in the water. He'd swear never to let a drop get on her. But not even her favorite man was enough to sway her.

Joel miller is a great father. A great husband.

You....

You glances at Joel, who's walking closer to the edge of the pool than you.

The thought breezes through your mind, and you come to the conclusion that you are not as great a wife.

using all your strength, you shove him off balance and send him flying into the pool without warning.

He has no chance to get his anchor as he goes crashing into the water, elbow and head first.

On cue, Ellie screams and immediately forced her fat legs to run as fast as they can, straight to the water. Eithout a seconds hesitation that she's had all week, she launches herself at full speed, scrunches her legs in the air and cannon balls into the pool butt first.

You must be a really bad mom too because You didn't expect her to just jump in by herself!!!

But to your immediately relief, she bobs her head up and starts frantically kicking and paddling doggy style to reach Joel.

Joel resurfaces, standing tall as the water was only deep to his waist, and shakes his head annoyingly. He frowns at you before realizing there's a very fast moving worm coming towards him-

"daDDY!" She shouts concerningly. Even though everyone else can clearly tell Joel is in no harm whatsoever, she still pants hard as she pettles her way to him like his life depends on it.

Joel blinks away the chlorine in his eyes, in disbelief at her sudden determination. "ELLIE! You did it!"

He reaches out and grasps her into his arms.

"I save DADDY!" She exclaims.

"Ahh.. I mean you didn't really..."

He glances up at you with eyes that signal to him to shut the fuck up.

"you DID! You saved me from drowning."

"All by myself!" She coos excitedly. "Daddy I swim!"

After that Ellie was completely comfortable in the pool, with Joel remaining a 4 foot radius at all times (knowing he could drown at any moment again).

"I wanna push him in next!" Sarah protested.

Ellie screeches "NO!" And defensively clutched Joel's whole head as she sat atop his shoulders.

- - - -

Taglist

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop @himboelover @callsignwidow @wintersquirrel @fluffygoffpanda @picketniffler @bbyanarchist @jeewrites

[cressidagrey]

Holy Ground - Chapter 2

Summary:

Nobody knew that Azriel found his mate. Until she nearly died. This is the aftermath.

Warning:

Rhys Bashing (as usual), Inner Circle Bashing (kinda), Referenced/Implied Sexual Assault, Referenced/Implied Domestic Violence, Discussion of Religion(?), Chronic Injury/Pain/Illness, Minor Character Death (It's probably nobody you love), Magical Work Accidents, Explosions, Injuries

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

Azriel’s shadows liked to spoil his mate rotten.

Not that Azriel could find anything wrong with that.

She deserved more for putting up with him. 

More than new tea from the Dawn Court and her favourite chocolate covered, wafer thin cookies from a small bakery near the Sidra…more than the occasional embroidery thread they snuck her…More than whatever animal he went to go hunt, to cover his bed in even more furs just for her. 

He nearly had enough Sable furs to have a blanket made for her for Winter Solstice…

Azriel also had half a mind to go sneak in her office later that day. 

Just as a treat for not killing either of his brothers. For being civil. 

Rhys had come over for sparring, unnannounced. 

Azriel had hoped to have some peace and quiet today, but it seemed like Rhys had other plans. 

Currently Cassian and Rhys were wrestling with less sense than they had had when they were just kids, and Azriel was cleaning his weapons, watching from the sidelines.

Azriel couldn't help but roll his eyes at the sight of his brothers roughhousing. It was typical of them to turn a simple sparring session into some kind of ridiculous competition. He focused on sharpening his knives, trying to ignore their antics.

"You know, we could also actually train properly," he called out, his tone dry. "Instead of wrestling like a bunch of children."

Cassian looked up from his grappling with Rhys, grinning. "Oh, come on Az. Don't be such a stick in the mud. Loosen up, have a little fun for once."

Azriel's expression remained impassive. "I'm perfectly capable of having fun, Cassian. But I prefer to do so without rolling around in the dirt like a wild animal."

Rhysand chuckled, standing up and clapping Cassian on the back. "It's good to let loose every now and then, Az. You should try it sometime. It might make your brooding sessions a little less depressing."

Azriel just grunted in response, not willing to engage in a verbal sparring match with Rhys. He continued to clean his weapons, hoping that the training session would end soon so he could escape his brothers' teasing.

“When did you even come home yesterday?” Cassian asked him.

Azriel looked up from his work, his expression neutral. "Around 11," he said simply.

“You didn’t come to dinner,” Rhys pointed out. “You were missed.”

He highly doubted that.

And maybe he had made that mission in Dawn just a little while longer, so that he knew that dinner would be over and when he came home, he wouldn’t need to be alone.

Azriel just shrugged. "I was busy," he said, offering no further explanation. He knew his brothers were just trying to rile him up, and he wasn't about to give them the satisfaction of a reaction.

*Are you still pissed of at me?* Rhys asked him mentally with a sigh. *I get it. But you don’t need to avoid everybody else, just because…*

*I’m not avoiding anyone,* Azriel replied, his mental voice tight. *I’m simply choosing to spend my time how I see fit.*

“I was busy,” he repeated aloud.

Cassian rolled his eyes. "You're always busy, Az. You know, there's such thing as taking a break once in a while. Spending time with your family."

Or he could spent time with his mate. He could spent time with his mate, who let him brush her hair and even braid it …who pressed kisses to his horrible scarred hands and smiled at him. 

If it was a choice between Irena or a family dinner where he didn’t want to stay longer than an hour or two, because he was still too fucking pissed off at Rhys…the choice was easy. 

“Or is there a special somebody?” Cassian teased him.

Azriel glowered at him. "It’s none of your business." He went back to working on his weapons, his expression tense.

*You can’t keep panting after Elain for the rest of your life,* Rhys said mentally. *Look, I know I didn’t…I am sorry. But she’s happy with Lucien and…*

*Don’t worry, I’ll go to a pleasure hall and pay for it if I want to fuck somebody,* Azriel shot back viciously.

Or his own hand would suffice. More than suffice, especially if…especially if Irena had let him kiss her the evening before…sometimes he waited until she disappeared into her room, and he buried his face in the pillows that smelled like her, fisted his cock and rutted like an untried boy for seconds before he came all over himself. 

It was still better than any other sex he ever had had before.

Cassian raised an eyebrow at him. "It sounds like you need to get laid," he said, chuckling. "Maybe that'll help with your bad mood."

Azriel shot him a glare. "Mind your own business, Cassian. My love life is none of your concern."

Rhysand gave him a sympathetic look. *We just want you to be happy, Az. You deserve happiness.*

“Ohhh, touchy,” Cassian said with a snort.

Azriel just gritted his teeth, his temper rising. "Cassian, if you don’t shut your mouth right now, I swear to the Mother, I’ll shut it for you."

Cassian just grinned at him. "Come on, Az. I’m just teasing you. Lighten up."

Azriel's grip on his weapons tightened. "I don't like your teasing, Cassian. And I certainly don't appreciate you making assumptions about my personal life.”

Mostly he just wanted his brothers to leave him the hell alone.

And then...then before he could say another thing...he felt the shaking.

And then the sound came. An eardrum shattering explosion, the very foundation of the House of Wind shaking. It was terrifying him.

Irena was down there in her office. Nesta was in there. 

He was moving before he was even thinking. 

*Merrill's office, Master!* the shadows screeched.

Azriel was already running.

Cassian hot on his heels, so was Rhys.

Azriel was faster, heaving shadows around his limbs as he rocketed down the spiral stairs of the House of Wind.

Level Two, Straight to the right. Clearly...Clearly the epicenter of the blast. Of the explosion…of whatever had happened.

He pushed as hard as he could, legs burning as he hurtled down the hallway to Merrill's office.

He wasn't the only one. "Merrill!" He could hear Gwyn's shrill voice screaming, coming to a stop in a hallway of what had once been Merrill's office but now was just...

It was a mass of wood and rubble.

He barely slowed down, scrambling into action. Gwyn was already digging through it, so where Nesta and Emerie. Cassian landed behind him, immediately moving some of the debris.

His shadows swarmed as he and the others quickly dug at the rubble. Looking, desperately looking.

He moved another piece of rubble out of the way...a piece of blue cloths. The same blue cloth that he knew covered Irena's body, the scent of poppies clinging to her...Without a thought, he grasped and then dragged, a hoarse shout that was her, that was her...

He felt as if he were choking, as if he were drowning as he dragged out her body. Bloody, bruised, broken but still...still there was a faint flicker, a faint, thready heartbeat.

His heartbeat pounding in his ears, he tried to pick up on her heart. There was barely a flicker. Too fast, too faint, she was barely holding on. Barely hanging by a thread.

There was blood pooling on her abdomen, dying the blue dress she wore bright scarlet red, He put pressure on that wound immediately, leaning on her with nearly all his weight, his fingers slick with blood. "Damn it, stay with me, love," he demanded sharply.

Azriel felt like he could barely breath. Like he was falling, tumbling down as he tried to will her to stay with him. Stay. Stay. Stay. Please stay. Stay...

Rhys was there suddenly, checking her pulse. "Breathing is erratic. She's in shock," he told Azriel with a grimace. "Mor is getting Madja..."

"Az..." her voice was so weak, but he turned to see dark brown eyes watching him, brows furrowing.

"Just keep breathing, Love," he told her, trying to stop his voice from shaking.

He could barely hear what was going on around him. It was as if he were in a bubble, a world of just himself and her and the desperate beat of her heart under his fingers.

"I am sorry," she whispered.

"There is nothing you need to apologise for her, Irena," he promised her sharply. "Absolutely nothing."

Irena's eyes drifted shut. Azriel felt like something was dying inside him as her heartbeat fluttered against his fingertips. His world was collapsing, shattering into pieces as her breath stuttered.

"Stay. Just stay..." he was barely aware of what he was saying, his eyes frantically searching hers. She had to stay. He would do anything to keep her here. Anything.

"I am still owing you that flight," he told her. She hadn't let him take her flying yet. They had snuck away in the library...in the rooftop garden...in her office. But he had never gotten to take her flying. He had never gotten to take her out into Velaris. They had never had a date at a fancy restaurant, had never gone to see the symphony. There were thousands of things that he hadn't yet gotten to do with his mate, because they had all the time in the world.

Irena just stared at him, her eyes pleading, as her heartbeat slowed, fluttering weaker and weaker. Azriel felt a sharp pain in his chest as fear clawed at his spine. "Just hold on a little longer, love," he whispered. "Please."

And then there Madja. Thank the cauldron. There she was.

Azriel could barely manage to let go of her, his mind consumed with the singular thought of Irena's laboured, erratic heartbeat as he moved back. Madja immediately set to work.

He lunged for her head, lunged to pull it on his lap, to touch her with blood slick fingertips, her normally rosy red lips pale, her skin even whiter than usual.

"Hurts," she whispered, as Madja set to work, barking orders.

"I know, I know, love," he whispered, touching her cheek with his fingertips as Madja got to work.

His eyes searched hers as he murmured those words over and over, as if he could somehow hold her in this world through sheer force of will alone.

"We haven't had enough time," he whispered desperately, leaning his forehead against hers.

She was slipping away. He could feel it. Feel her slipping, feel her heartbeat slow. Feel the thread that tethered her to this world fray, fray, fray...

No. He couldn't lose her. Would not let her leave him. He had waited far too long for her. Far, far too long to let her slip through his fingers.

"Stay with me," he pleaded. "Please stay with me."

But her eyes were slipping shut, her head lolling to the side. He gently patted her cheek, trying to urge her back to consciousness, but he didn't think he was even really aware of what he was doing, where he was. The world had boiled down to a desperate litany, in his head. Stay...stay...please...don't you dare...

“I am going to be so furious with you if you die. We may have our first fight,” he told her fiercely.

He needed her to know that he would be there to be furious with her if she dared to die, that she couldn't die. Couldn't. That she had to stay. Had to keep fighting. There were too many things ahead of them...a wedding to plan, children to have, years and years of life to live.

“Az,” she breathed his name, her eyes not even open anymore.

“Open your eyes, Irena,” he demanded. “Look at me, love,”

Her eyes finally fluttered open at his command. It was barely more than a slither of brown, but he latched onto it, taking it for what it was. A chance. A moment to get through to her.

He wasn't sure what he was saying, but the words spilled forth from him, a litany, a desperate prayer. "Please," he breathed, "don't go...don't you dare..."

He was dimly aware that the others had gathered, but he didn't dare look away. Didn't dare look away from her as he cradled her head, trying to pour all of his prayers into those words. All of his hope and desperation.

"You can't go." A statement. An order. An absolute certainty in his voice. "I will not let you go."

He wouldn't. Would never, ever let her go. Would drag her back from the Cauldron's grasp with bloodied and broken hands if thats what had to be.

She didn't speak. Didn't need to. He could read her answer in her eyes, the determination in those brown eyes as she tried so, so hard to stay.

It was as if she were holding on for him, because he had asked her to. Because it was him there with her. Like she would fight until her last breath because he told her too. He didn't deserve this beautiful creature, who was willing to fight for him, willing to live for him.

It was something primal, something desperate, something fierce as he whispered those words over and over, like a prayer. "Fight. Fight. Fight."

And she listened. She did. He could feel her hold on, just barely grasp hold of that tether that kept her in this world. Just barely keep her eyes open.

Just look at him.

And she did, those dark eyes unfocused but open, staring up at him, watching him. Trying so, so hard. It nearly made his heart stop in the most terrible way that she was struggling for him.

And he was so proud of her. Of the way she was fighting like she was. Of the way she was grasping, hanging on to life like she was.

The seconds stretched too thin, feeling like eternities and only the slightest of moments. But her eyes were open, if only barely. She hadn't given up. Hadn't let go.

He was dimly aware of the others, Gwyn hovering with a worried expression, Madja murmuring quiet instructions to the others, Rhys kneeling not far away. But he barely glanced at them, barely dared to take his eyes off Irena.

He was certain that if he looked away, if he let this tenuous thread sever, that she would die. That as long as he kept her here, she wouldn't slip, wouldn't let go.

He had one hand on her cheek, her skin still clammy and pale, as her eyes slipped open and shut. But everytime, they would find his face. His eyes, like he was the only thing tethering her to the world. It hurt. Hurt so much to see her barely holding on, only that last sliver of determination keeping her here.

"Please," he pleaded, whispering those words like a prayer, like he would be praying to a vengeful god. Those moments felt like eternities, stretching on and on with only his desperate whispers. "Please..."

The world felt so still, so silent as if the world was holding its breath. Azriel's eyes locked on Irena, silently begging her, asking her to please, please...

Live, live live... he whispered those words over and over, a desperate plea to the Mother, the Cauldron, to anyone who would listen. To Irena, the only person in the entire world who truly mattered in that moment.

Her eyes were growing glassy, slipping closed only to jerk open again. Stay he demanded. Keep looking at me. Please.

She tried. Mother, she tried. Her eyes drifted to him, the smallest hint of life, of a spark there in those dark brown eyes.

He hardly dared to breathe, hardly dared to move. Afraid that any wrong move could tip her over the edge, could pull her into that chasm of non-existence that she was desperately clinging too.

He felt something pricking at his eyes, felt something in his chest cracking, breaking at the sheer intensity of emotions thrumming through him. It hurt. Hurt so much to see her like this, so pale, barely holding on, barely conscious...

“Alright,” Madja said quietly. “Good girl. You were so very brave.”

"Will...will she be alright?" He asked, voice hoarse.

He didn't let his eyes drift from Irena's face, her half lidded eyes staring at him. It filled him with such an intense pang of relief and fear at the same time. Relief, because she was alive...and fear, because they had been so close to losing her.

"She's not out of the woods yet," Madja warned. "But she'll make it. She lost a lot of blood. It will take some time to get her vitals stable again."

He felt like he could breathe for the first time. It was almost dizzying, the sheer, intense relief that flooded through him. Irena was here. Irena would live. It filled his veins with an almost drug like euphoria, that made him light headed, a smile twitching at the corners of his lips.

He barely managed to keep that feeling in, the pure euphoria from showing as he smoothed a strand of hair back from her face. "Thank you," he whispered, voice hoarse, eyes finally dragging away from Irena's face to look at Madja. "Just...thank you."

He looked back at Irena, taking in her face. Alive. Still alive. Still here with him, not gone. The tension seeped from his shoulders, a strange sort of exhaustion taking over. As if all the adrenaline that had fueled him, the fear, was slowly draining out of him like water.

“Merrill,” Irena whispered, her voice near silent.

Azriel felt his fingers brush her cheek, just the gentlest touch as he tried to keep it together. It had been too close. Too, too close. He couldn't stop the overwhelming feelings flowing through him of elation and fear as he looked down at her as he looked down at her, alive. Alive and breathing and whispering soft words. "Shhh," he whispered softly. "Save your strength. Don't strain yourself."

He looked up finding Cassians gaze who just shook his head. Merrill was dead.

Azriel couldn't quite process that information, not in that moment. His eyes were still drawn to Irena, still unable to take his eyes off of her for more than a moment. His fingers brushed her cheek again, just the faintest touch as he pressed a small kiss to her forehead. "Rest," he instructed softly. "I'll be right there.” He promised.

“Being here to her room,” Madja said quietly.

“My room,” he corrected.

The priestesses dormitory was locked from males. If he even tried to get in there it would’ve end well for him. And he wouldn’t leave her side.

“Your room?” Gwyn asked sharply.

“Gwyn,” Rhys said quietly.Azriel didn't even acknowledge Gwyn's words, didn't have the energy. All he could focus on was the way Irena's eyes had drifted shut, the steady rise and fall of her chest. She would be alright. She was going to be alright. She was alive. Right now, in that moment, thats all that mattered.

“Az, how long have the two of you…” Cassian asked hesitantly.

Azriel just shrugged, his hand resting on Irena's hair, smoothing back from her face. “Two years. She’s my mate,” he said flatly as he gathered her up. 

“Mate,” she rasped. “Mine.”

“Yours,” he agreed softly.

[foolishaetherguardian]

“… and be sure to report any further unusual tectonic activity. Dismissed.” Bats finally finished the report. Why was he here? Right the first five minutes had been about the possibility of magic having been used. This really should have been an email he just ignored or left Zatanna to deal with. Bunny girl was better at feigning interest than he was after all. “John, Zatanna if you would both remain.”

Damn the brat. Why did the inter dimensional brat decide today to bug him? John knew he could pop up at literally any point in time like it was normal. It was revenge. For what offense he didn’t know. Or maybe he hadn’t even done it yet. Stupid fifth dimensional traveling.

“… stantine. CONSTANTINE.” “Bugger off.”

“John.”

Shit. Okay first names were bad with the cape. Like find a new existence and disappear off the face of the planet bad.

“Right sorry mate just, distracted.”

“The fact that an eldritch horror from who knows where was hanging off you like a scarf actually had some effect on you? You must be getting sentimental in your old age.”

“Love we both know that if it was weighing on me I wouldn’t be around to talk. You wouldn’t be either.” John had some respect for Zatanna. She was a good mage. Understood the proper importance of a cigarette and a blokes need to keep up appearances. Usually at least. “Got a cig?”

“Those will kill you someday.” The disapproval and sarcasm rolled off her tongue as smooth as the honeyed lies the lass would use with magic. John wanted to quip back but settled for a death glare as the big bad bat threatened to perfect his own death glare on him. Why did the bat have to be such a stickler? Rules rules rules. Rules don’t save lives when they shackle you from good. Damnit. Why were all the big dogs so damn… good?

“Hrm.”

Right the bat. The bat that right now probably wanted to string him up by his ankles and let the archdemons sort out how to cut him into nice even thirds if his damned rules didn’t stop him. Why did he have a cigarette?

“Uh bats?”

“Hrm.”

Just as loquacious as always that cape. Keep that thought inside. Definitely keep the thought inside. Especially as you take that stupidly expensive cigarette.

“Thanks. I could really…” The cig was hard. It was candy. The bat almost had an actual expression under the cowl, there was the slightest tightness of the lips. A smirk. He was smirking. ”You know what? Fuck you.” The fake cig crunched in his mouth. It actually tasted pretty good. Not that he was going to ever let anyone know that. “I’m going home. Hopefully to eat my leftovers. The brat isn’t a threat. If you want to know just ask the lass about the between or the Infinite. Or better yet go ask Grundy about The Protector.”

God he needed a drink. And a smoke. And maybe another drink. John was pretty sure that his food was gone too.

“How old is he?”

Dammit lass. Why did you always know just what to say? “14…. I think.” John replied stopping at the door to the stupid tech magic tubes that Supes had insisted on. “He’s some other world’s hero.”

The lass had to think on that one. Not every day you meet an alternate. “Is he… okay?”

“He’s doing alright. Insists his parents couldn’t understand though, so he always carries it alone. Protects people that way, or so he says.” John finally let himself laugh. It was a fitting description of most of the capes who worked with the league. And himself. If he was generous. Pity he couldn’t afford to be generous with himself anymore. “I’m just his fallback. And debit card.”

“It would do him some good to meet others. If you can invite him to the next picnic.”

John blinked slowly. Then turned. The Bat had a smile. A proper smile. Soft and understanding. How? The man was almost certainly just a mass inhuman muscle and brains with the bare minimum speech capability bundled into a bat suit. “I’ll make sure to offer it. But he’s still weird about his… abilities.”

“I’ll get him added to the budget.”

“Budget?” Now this was sounding promising. While the league did pay it wasn’t much more than rent for the closet he used to access the house.

“For young heroes or metas under league guidance. One of the points Bruce Wayne insisted on when he decided to find us officially. So they have a safe place.”

“I’m a safe place?” John’s incredulity was finally outweighing his paranoia. A hefty feat considering even he considered himself to be 90% paranoia by volume.

“Sure sounds like it mate.” Only the lass could say something so damning like it was a good thing.

“{Guess so}” Why did he understand the grunt? Are the grunts some secret dad cape speak? Why was he suddenly qualified for…. Nope. Nope. He’s going home. Sleep liquor and maybe a bit of tele. No he wasn’t tearing up. And no one could see his face to tell you otherwise.

Danny has met Constantine.

Constantine has a coat.

Danny regularly pops out of it to say hi or when Constantine calls him for something.

Nobody in the JL knew this, so when Danny popped right on out in the middle of a meeting.

Well.

[dietcokegirly12]

im sorry to bother you but I love your writing sm... could you do a nikolai one or a threesome with fyolai

“Pent-Up”

featuring fyodor doestovsky and nikolai gogol ִ ࣪𖤐

.˚₊‧ ─── ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🎪ɞ˚‧｡⋆ ─── ‧₊˚. ─── ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🎪ɞ˚‧

art credits: pinterest ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

.˚₊‧ ─── ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🎪ɞ˚‧｡⋆ ─── ‧₊˚. ─── ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🎪ɞ˚‧

a/n note: thank you anon for this req omg, i had so much fun with it (♡ˊ͈ ꒳ ˋ͈) also dw i'm gonna release an only nikolai fic laterrr!

keep in mind, reader replaces dazai in the prison arc (っˆڡˆς)

tags: threesome, cowgirl double penetration, mutual masturbation, anal, unprotected sex, teasing, slight degrading, squirting, humping(?), mention of death, mention of oral (fem) at the end, etc etc

word count: 2.5k

🂱🂳🂶 ── ⋅ 🂱🂳🂶 ── ⋅ 🂱🂳🂶 ── ⋅ 🂱🂳🂶 ── ⋅ 🂱

who knew being trapped in the most secure prison to ever exist could leave you so pent-up?

it had been eight months since you had last seen the light of day, and eight months since you had been touched by anyone but yourself.

and it was getting unbearable.

the only solace you had was the man in the cell across from yours, fyodor doestovsky.

as a former member of the port mafia, and a current member of the detective agency with a long list of crimes to your name, in all the commotion, you had been arrested by the hunting dogs and placed in the secure space across from his.

and as the days turned to weeks, and eventually you lost all track of time and what was happening in the outside world, he proved the only one you found comfort in.

through thick and thin, and no matter what, he was always there.

which obviously, he couldn't leave, but just the fact he would entertain you when the days seemed to blend together, and always would comfort you when you had one of your inevitable panic attacks from spending too long in confinement, meant the world.

and of course, being enclosed as you were, always in clear sight of the other, he really was always there.

whether it be when you were eating, or sleeping, or changing, or even.. masturbating.

and truly, when it happened, you hadn't meant for him to see, or even hear you. but you should've known you couldn't hide anything from a man with fyodor's capabilities.

it had been eight miserable months in the prison cell, and you were desperately craving physical touch. you practically ached for intimacy. so... you took matters into your own hands.

with a hand between your plush thighs, panties halfway to the side, and your back arched upward from your front-facing bed, you were doing something incredibly risky but you couldn't bring yourself to care, too lost in the haze of pleasure you were giving yourself.

"mmph.. hah.. f-feels so good," you moaned, picturing it was someone else's fingers toying with your clit languidly. someone else who was right in the cell across yours.

picking up speed in your rubbing, you squeeze your legs together, eliciting a small whimper as you feel yourself getting closer.

and just as you think you're going to be able to push yourself over the edge, and relieve all the tension that's been plaguing you for the past few weeks... nothing.

with a small frustrated groan, you turn over, pulling your fingers out in defeat.

now you were right back where you started, still incredibly horny, only with the addition of now being wet and throbbing, unable to finish on your own.

"need some help over there, myshka?"

you gasp, bolting upright and in the process, let the blanket fall off your body to reveal your bare breasts, and lower stomach.

“shit!”

fyodor simply watches with an amused look as you rush to cover yourself, quickly pulling your covers up to your chin.

“no need to be shy now, darling.”

“fedyaaa..” you whine out, cheeks tinted pink. “y’weren’t s’posed to see that.”

he smirks at that. “oh? then who was?”

you flush, turning away to drape the blankets over yourself, hot all over with embarrassment.

a few seconds later however, the quiet sounds of squelching fill the air, and confused you turn around, unsure what he’s doing.

nothing can prepare you for the sight that awaits you however.

fyodor’s pale hand wrapped tightly around his narrow cock, pumping up and down slowly as his eyes lock on yours, a coy smile curling the corners of his lips upward.

the first thought you have is that he’s long. longer than you’d be able to take, you bet, not that there was much likelihood of that trapped in confinement.

as you ogle at him with wide eyes, mouth agape, he purposefully lets out a drawn-out moan, his head tilting back in pleasure.

before you can stop yourself, you find your hand disappearing back between your thighs, desperately rubbing to get yourself off from the sight of him.

his eyes are closed, but his mouth tilts up, like he can sense what you're doing.

your cunt flutters at the sight of him so exposed like you'd never seen him, and you feel more arousal seeping out of you.

speeding up, you circle a finger around your sopping entrance before plunging in and out, sloppily lewd sounds ensuing.

reaching one hand up, you squeeze your breasts, panting softly as you imagine that it's fyodor's hands doing it rather than yours.

your stomach curls up into tight little knots, and your breathing heaves as you feel yourself finally drawing closer to tipping over the edge.

"say something to me fedya. please?"

he chuckles softly, voice slightly breathier than usual as he whispers out, "fucking filthy girl. jerking off to me while you think i'm asleep, hoping i wouldn't notice, hm?"

and it's then that you can't hold back anymore, soft cries of his name leaving you as you twitch and shudder, drenching your hand and thighs in your slick.

and you can't see it, but you know fyodor finishes close behind as soft, guttural groans leave his throat before he lapses back into silence, broken only by the sound of your combined soft breaths.

you had been facing up at the ceiling for most of it, and as you turn over to your side to face fyodor, you see he's already on his side, looking at you.

"as soon as we get out of here, myshka, i'm going to fuck you senseless."

your heart rate increases as you stare at him, lips slightly parted.

"these eight months of confinement so close, yet so far from you have been torture. i don't care who, or what is around us, i'm going to take you and finally make you mine."

you blush, already feeling needy between your legs again just from his words. "as soon as we get out.." you agree.

.˚₊‧˗ ─── 🗝⟢ ₊˚ ꗃ ─── ˗‧₊˚. ─── 🗝⟢ ₊˚ ꗃ

the next morning, you're awoken by loud shouting.

immediately sitting upright, you look over to fyodor's cell, but he's gone.

"hey!" you swing your feet over the side of the bed and are just about to stand up when suddenly the floor drops from under you, and you fall straight through.

you land with a harsh thump! on the hard floor in a foreign area, a tall man wearing striped pants and a white braid leering down at you. "so, you're the one who captured fyodor's heart while he was captured?" he laughs at his own joke before extending a hand to you, a sly grin on his face, one scarred eye shamelessly checking you out.

fyodor stands beside him, rolling his eyes at his companion, still dressed in his white prison uniform with his hands folded across his chest impatiently.

around them were several mangled bodies piled up, guards you assumed.

it was obvious this had been planned. they had clearly been in communication. and yet... what was it that fyodor had said last night? that it didn't matter who or what was around, he was going to take you as his anyway...?

you're startled out of your thoughts at the feeling of cold hands snaking around your waist, bringing you face-to-face with the man you had longed for in confinement for so long.

and now here he was.

touching you.

after being deprived of him for so long, you could care less whether his friend was there to watch or not, and without hesitance you throw your arms over his shoulders and smash your lips onto his, tilting your head to deepen the kiss.

his mouth is cool on yours, and tastes faintly of something heavy and intoxicating, the slightly musky flavor invading your senses until you were practically drowning in it.

with one finger, he tilts your chin upward, and places light kisses down your jaw, tongue darting out occasionally to taste your skin, making you groan in pleasure at the feeling.

and it's then that you feel the warmth of someone pressing into you from behind, and two arms wrapping around your waist.

you gasp softly, trying to move away and unintentionally backing your ass up further into the man behind you, causing him to let out a soft groan.

fyodor chuckles, pulling away to cup your face gently. "it's okay. he won't bite."

swallowing, you stare up at fyodor questioningly.

but before he can answer, the one behind you leans forward, breath tickling your ear. "name's nikolai. but you can call me kolya, little dove."

"i've been telling him about you, my cellmate, for a while now after finding a way to communicate to the outside world, and he agreed to break us out of here on one condition..."

suddenly, nikolai's hands which had been resting at your front begin to slide up your body as fyodor speaks, large palms coming to cup your breasts through your shirt, causing a small involuntary whine to slip out of you, slightly grinding your ass back against him.

"...he gets to fuck you too."

heat pools low in your tummy and you desperately nod in agreement, eager to feel both of their hands on you, giddy with the promise of finally being touched. "please."

nikolai laughs from behind you, hands squeezing tighter around your tits. "seems she doesn't mind having us both, greedy girl."

you whimper softly, leaning back on nikolai as you guide fyodor's hands to between your legs needily, not willing to waste another second.

"someone's eager." fyodor teases, lightly brushing his long fingers along your inner thighs, achingly close to where heat radiates from between them.

however, for all his taunting, he's not faring much better than you, his pants tented from the impressive bulge straining against them.

"someone's eager.." you mock back, one hand reaching out to splay across his painfully hard cock.

with a hiss, hips bucking into your touch, his eyes turn feral, voice dropping dangerously low. "take off your pants. now."

as you quickly obey, nikolai's hands slide down to help you, leisurely pulling them down past your hips until you're in nothing but your panties sandwiched in between them.

quickly, they shift you so you're straddling fyodor's chest, with nikolai behind.

"think you can take us both, dove? i don't want to wait any longer." nikolai purrs out, eye glinting.

as you nod in affirmation, they instantly begin to move as one, fyodor spreading open your thighs as nikolai's hands come to your hips, rutting against your ass slightly.

desperate to feel you for the first time, fyodor's already pulling down his pants to reveal his cock, flushed a pale pink and dripping with pre-cum. it's so long it reaches halfway up his stomach and is even prettier up close.

before you even get the chance to marvel at him, however, he's already lining himself up and pushing in. "myshka, you have no idea how long i've dreamt of having you like this."

all you can do is grip tightly onto his shoulders, soft gasps leaving you at the stretch of him pushing deep inside you.

his cock has a mean curve to it, one that has you dizzy as it reaches all the way to brushing your cervix, without even moving.

there's shuffling behind you as nikolai undresses, and before you can even adjust to having fyodor's cock nestled into your snug walls, his tip is prodding insistently at your hole.

expertly, he reaches one nimble hand to your front, toying with your pulsing clit languidly, and completely covering his hand in your slick before pumping his cock with it a few times as lube.

and where fyodor was impressively long... nikolai was impressively thick.

obscenely so.

his shaft was girthy, and lined with thumping veins and ridges, precum pearling at the slit tantalizingly.

and if you thought you were full before...

the second even an inch of his heavy cock started to push its way inside you, his hands holding your hips steady from behind, you swear you're seeing stars.

"fuck! s'too much! i-it's not all g-gonna fit!" you cry out desperately, squirming in fyodor's grasp as nikolai grunts from behind.

"yes it is.. take it. take it all like a good little slut." fyodor's fingers come to rub circles over your clit to get you to loosen up more for them, accented voice smooth as velvet.

"kolya! y'er so.. so big!" you gasp as he giggles slightly from behind, pushing you forward onto fyodor enough to lift your ass higher.

"hm, is that so? that's not even all of it yet.." and with that, he pulls back before snapping his hips into you, bullying the rest of his thick cock into you in one harsh thrust.

you squeal, falling forward onto fyodor who simply hums, before starting an absolutely brutal pace, meant to completely ravage your poor pussy.

nikolai also begins to thrust into you from behind, barely even giving you time to adjust to his sheer size before you're ping-ponging back and forth between the two, the filthy sounds of skin against skin filling the air.

with the force of their thrusts, your breasts are jiggling, and eagerly fyodor takes one nipple into his mouth, sucking gently, tongue laving tantalizingly around the hardened bud.

you moan, arching up as you quickly tangle your fingers into his dark hair, nikolai groaning behind you.

you know you're not going to last long, not with the way you've been dreaming of this for months, so in an effort to not cum too early, you try to crawl upward and away from their drilling cocks, but nikolai is having none of that, quickly pulling you back to sink even more of him inside you, a small tsk tsk leaving him.

"where you going, little dove?"

you whimper softly in reply, eyes shutting tightly as you try to fight the wave of oncoming pleasure threatening to crash over you. "kolya... fedya.. hmph c-can't.. m'gonna!"

and before you even realize what's happening, your body convulses as with a shudder, you squirt, gushing your release out all over the two, as wave after wave of blinding white pleasure hits you, leaving you a dripping, soaked, mewling mess when you're finally done, panting for breath.

"бля! какая у тебя грязная пизда!" ("Fuck! Such a filthy pussy you have!")

fyodor's words come out in frantic, slurred russian, his only warning before he's spurting load after load of creamy, white ropes into your abused cunt, some of it seeping out to puddle around you.

nikolai follows quickly, a loud throaty groan slipping out from him as more hot ribbons of cum paint your insides white, cock throbbing as he empties himself in you.

and as you all collapse into a heap of sticky, glistening bodies, your faces sweat-sheened and blissed-out, you feel someone nestling between your thighs.

looking down, you see nikolai's head pressed between your legs, eyes closed peacefully.

"kolya..." you warn, voice slightly ragged.

he smiles mischievously. "what? 'm resting!"

as you relent, settling back down, your thighs are pushed open suddenly and a hot mouth instantly latches onto your leaking cunt.

"gotta clean you up..."

and it’s then, you feel another mouth eagerly join.

tagslist (ask to be tagged!<3): @bokukenmakuroo @newnlovesjennie

[mr-ys-phantasma]

🌙 Moon Phases 🌙

Agatha Harkness X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2074

Finale I - part 2/3 (Agatha X Reader X Rio ending):

As the fight continued, you could only watch; eyes getting misty at the sight. You did not want to see anyone getting hurt, especially Agatha, who so stubbornly kept fighting.

You gasped weakly when you saw one of Rio's attacks sending her back. The feeling in your stomach got worse when you saw Agatha spitting out blood as she stubbornly stood up, not giving Rio the satisfaction of defeat.

Deep breaths only caused you more pain, but you had to, as you tried to gather all of your mental strength to remain in control. Your hand was firmly placed against the wound, your white magic trying to heal you but failing to do so; the dagger far more powerful than anyone expected.

Seeing Rio and Agatha fighting made your heart beat painfully, each beat causing more aches within. You hatd seeing them at each other's necks when you knew deep down, they still had feelings for one another... and you had for them.

They did not deserve to hate each other until the end of time or fight until one of them was about to die; in this case, Agatha.

You slowly started to stand up, adrenaline the only thing helping as your legs felt weak; the shock of the attack still affecting your body but not your mind, since the safety of your lovers was far more powerful.

Your grip on Billy's arm tightened, using him as an extra support to get and remain up; for the last thing you needed was to fall.

"What are you doing?" Billy asked, looking at you in surprise. He stood up fast, ready to catch you in case you fell back but also, passively wishing to stop you from doing anything reckless. "You should be healing."

You took a moment to answer, each breathe causing you pain. "I can't. It's Rio's knife," you answered vaguely.

Your hand went to the handle, and you braced yourself before pulling the dagger in one quick move. The action made you gasp, hands shaking as you dropped the knife.

You brought your dominant hand on your chest, white magic coming alive beneath your finger. You tried your best to hold the bleeding, reduce it, and stop yourself from dying on the spot.

It worked faintly, but the blood kept coming out, no longer the dagger existing to block it and keep you alive.

You felt the familiar warmth of fresh blood coming from an open wound, but it did not phase you. You had your plan in mid, and that was the only thing you cared about.

Billy looked at you, a continuous support while he tried hard not to look at your bleeding wound. "What do you mean? You will die if you try to move." He argued, hoping somehow he could ensure you would not die on him.

Honestly, he could not bear losing you too; especially in such an unfair and unjust way. You of all witches deserved to survive and live, not fall victim to centuries old fuel between Agatha and Rio.

You offered him a weak smile. "Even my powers have limits, and so does my time here."

He had no words to argue, seeing you so determined despite the fact you were about to die. All he could do was to ensure you were okay as you took the first step forward; eyes always locked on the two lovers locked into this heated, never-ending battle.

You started slowly walking toward Rio and Agatha, not caring about the risk that their wild energy would and could hit you.

Your time, like you had told Billy, was limited. You didn't have a lot of time to act, and every second paasing was vital.

Each step felt heavier than the one before it. Each breath was laboured and brought up pain. The bleeding was not stopping, you're magic was not capable of helping you somehow heal while you were pushing your body to its limits.

Rio and Agatha did not take notice of you approaching until it was too late. Green and purple magic had come alive in their hands, but both froze when they spotted you.

This thing, perhaps, was your only chance to actually interfere, and you took it by the horns.

You let go of your world and focused all the magic you could gather in your hands. You could feel how quickly it was draining you, siphoning all of your energy and power.

Yet, you kept going, and when you felt it was enough; you stopped holding back..

Your white magic exploded all around you, forming a powerful sphere of white energy. It not only lifted wind, dust, and debris but also sent the two lovers on their backs; effectively stopping them from attacking one another.

Congratulations, you had managed to stop them both from trying to kill one another. However, at what cost?

A strong cough escaped you, blood staining your hand that had subconsciously moved in front of your lips. Your powers started giving up on you, and you had to bend one knee to try and save yourself from a nasty fall.

"Y/N!" Billy called your name in worry, so close in rushing to you.

Seeing you this weak and pale, worried both Rio and Agatha; who stood up and were recovering from your spontaneous blast.

Rio was the first to speak. "Get back, Y/N!" She shouted, seeing you trying hard to remain in the middle.

Agatha joined right after. Rio's words snapped her from the initial shock. "Get away from her!"

Their words started to tire you, your patience running quite thin since you were so close to bleeding out to death. You were tired, you were wounded and most likely about to die...

So you would not spend your last moments watching them fight and argue.

You managed to stand on your legs again, though you were unsure for how long you would manage.

"I swear I will keep blasting you until you both stop!" You snapped at them and brought your hand to wipe the blood from the edges of your mouth. Your other hand was still pressed against your wound, though to no avail; blood staining your hand and dress with no intention of stopping. "I don't care what happened between the two of you in the past... I don't care how Little Nicky got involved..." You took in a pained breath. "But I refuse to let you kill each other, over such stupid past and grudge.

And with those words, you could no longer remain standing. Your legs buckled in, knees supporting all your weight as they were forced on the rough ground.

The white in your eyes disappeared, your trusty powers abandoning you faster after the outburst.

Agatha and Rio acted on pure instinct, dropping everything they did and thought as they rushed towards you. They knelt by each side of you, arms spreading to hug and hold you; preventing you from falling forward.

Their presence was comforting to you as you felt yourself getting weaker. With the last bit of your strength, you brought your hands around each of their necks and pulled them closer to you.

"You two better make amends, or I swear... I will come back and haunt you both, " you joked weakly.

You could tell the ending was close, but this time, you were not afraid. You welcomed it, knowing you were in the arms of the two women you loved.

Rio and Agatha did not seem to take your words lightly, and both hugged you tightly. Agatha was the one failing to hide back her tears, her bottom lip faintly trembling.

Rio was better at being in control, perhaps because it was her you would see soon as she took your soul to the next plane. Yet the fact remained that she was not fully okay with you dying, so stupidly none the less.

As Rio and Agatha kept you closer; their hands met behind your back. In a silent moment of common grief and support, they let their fingers interlock.

"You stupid naive girl," Rio said, inhaling your scent as she buried her face into your shoulder.

Agatha hesitated to speak, afraid her voice would crack. "Sugar..." she whispered.

The whole sight brought tears into Billy's eyes, leaving him standing there as you slowly accepted death, and so did your lovers.

You closed your eyes, a few tears escaping as you held them close; feeling them together once again. Your feelings for both went crazy and you wished to kiss them one last time, but you feared you would collapse if you let them go.

As you three remain there, hugging one another; your breaths started to sync, your hearts beating as one as the faint light of the moon was casted on you.

Suddenly, your white magic started to come alive beneath your fingers, starting faint but slowly growing in intensity. The same seemed to happen to Rio and Agatha, one magic influencing the other; bringing it to life without the consent of their casters.

At first, it was so faint that no one noticed, but then this new feelings started to be shared within the three of you. This new combined power started to surge through their bodies and yours, a sweeter and more favourable wind picking up.

Your eyes opened wide as you felt your chest wound burning, and only then did you notice the show of colours taking place all around you.

Rio's green and black magic was alive, wrapping around the three of you, but it was not alone. Agatha's purple had joined into the mix, along with your white one; creating beautiful harmonised combinations as they kept moving around you like live creatures with a life of their own.

Once your fellow witches took notice, they gasped and pulled back; with you copying them.

Colour had returned to your once pale cheeks, eyes glowing with life. Your wound was covered by a mixture of this triple magic, quickly stopping the bleeding and sticking up.

"The wound..." Agatha exclaimed, being the first to notice it.

Rio notices it too, but there is obvious confusion on her face. You were literally with one leg over and now... you were glowing with life, your magic returning and boosting you stronger than ever before.

Then, the answer came, and it all clicked into place. "The power of the three." she looked at Agatha, a smirk of victory on her lips. "I told you she could be part of it."

Once again, you were confused on the topic of discussion; clearly, I had missed quite a few things that you needed in order to catch up.

Agatha always found you rather adorable when you had that innocent and confused expression on your face.

She cupped your cheek gently. "I will explain later, sugar."

With their help, you slowly got up; feeling better than before, but you could go for a long nap.

As you turned to face Billy, you almost got tackled by him as he rushed to hug you. He truly thought he had lost you for a moment, and now here you stand, all healthy and healed.

"How is this possible? Thought you couldn't heal the wound," he said and pulled back, looking at you for answers.

You could not help but smile. "Alone, I couldn't. Together, we could."

Agatha chose to help enlighten the poor boy who had yet so much to learn. "The power of the three. Three witches magically bonded like no other, it enchants and boosts each other's powers."

Billy nodded and looked at Agatha, and then he dared to look at Rio. "So what now?"

It was your turn to look at Rio, holding her and in yours. "Please, let's end this." Rio hesitated to answer, evident in her dark eyes. "Come on, Rio. We will all die sooner or later. Why must you take us now? "

Rio remained silent for a moment, clearly debating the topic in her mind. In the end, she let out a small sigh of defeat.

"Very well," she agreed and lifted a single digit. "One life," she emphasised. "No more cheating death, no more body jumping."

Billy and Agatha did not have to be told twice to nod their heads, more than happy to leave with their lives.

Agatha looked at Rio and offered a sweet smile. "Thank you, my love."

[ambrosia-vinca]

There's a kind of defensive attitude towards criticism re:Lucanis' romance in many corners of the fandom that I partially understand because Veilguard gets a lot of shit thrown at it, and if you enjoy something you naturally want to defend it. But this type of attitude also rubs me the wrong way when people who loved the way his romance played out say that anyone criticizing it must just not understand slow burns/not like slow burn as a genre/not understand Lucanis' character and his trauma properly/must have been expecting explicit sex scenes and a Zevran 2.0.

Maybe some people criticizing his romance don't like slow burns, or were wrongly expecting him to be a sex god, or ignore his trauma. I've seen a few. But that's not all the criticism there is.

Personally, I love slow burns, it's my favorite genre both to read and write (I'm the type of fic writer to think up 200k words enemies to lovers longfics where they've barely kissed after 100k words). I'm also the type of ace person who's not into extremely explicit sex scenes or super kinky romances (especially with male dom stuff, which I personally dislike). And lastly, I'm the type who picks the angstiest possible romance choice.

All this to say that Lucanis and his romance were theoretically made in a lab for me. Slow burn because the character doesn't trust easily and is traumatized by his past experiences and has many things he must resolve, excruciatingly slow to open up? Unexpectedly very sweet, wet, sad man with puppy eyes? Romance scenes that are caring and romantic instead of outright steamy? Perfect, right up my alley! I keep romancing Fenris in DA2 exactly for that reason because I love him dearly, and he breaks up with Hawke for 3 whole years! Still my favorite!

But the whole point of a slow burn are the steps. It's a slow burn, which means little step by little step, the relationship slowly builds to a conclusion, from tentative acquaintances who don't trust each other, to slooowly evolve into something more, and it's precisely these crumbs that make the trope enjoyable.

To me, Lucanis' romance doesn't feel like it does little steps, it feels like it skips steps. I can see the main story beats of a good slow burn, but not the crumbs that make a slow burn. I don't want him and Rook to jump each other after 2 scenes, I want to see more of the fumbling, the hesitation, the dancing around each other. No, dragon age isn't a romance game, I'm aware, but if romance is an option, and it is written to fit a specific trope, I would like it done properly. They've done slowburns and angsty before, and they were good (even Solas', and his romance is super short). I want the evolution of the relationship shown to me, not told in broad strokes and big steps, and I don't want to have to write half the romance in my head or rely on ao3.

We get nothing between the coffee date and the almost kiss, absolutely no reaction of any kind to the flirting, not even a blink. If Lucanis and Rook were capable of having an entire conversation about coffee and kisses metaphors when they barely knew each other, then I think they can flirt a bit more in the following conversations when you pick the romantic option, dance around each other, have Lucanis fumble a little more like he does with Neve when he actually registers Rook is sincerely into him. Even just a sign that he heard Rook when they pick the romantic option in the following conversations, because as it is he immediately resumes whatever he was saying. And if his lack of reaction is because he's suddenly afraid and thinks it's a bad idea, I would like it shown on his face, or as an actual noticeable pause/hesitation. It didn't look like he thought it was a bad idea at Café Pietra, unless he just thought Rook was flirting just to flirt and wasn't serious, but again, none of that is hinted at in any way.

Then there's the almost kiss that follows and is the first actually romantic moment we get after the coffee date, and suddenly Lucanis is all smooth and confident about flirting again. With nothing in between ever since *Illario voice* he got all romantic about roasts. Was he reluctant before and that's why he didn't react to Rook's flirting/caring concern? We have no idea, because while he warns Rook it's a bad idea to be attracted to him, he doesn't seem scared, more amused at their daredevil tendencies. The first time in his entire romance we get a clear indication he's afraid and won't open up for a long time is at the end of this specific scene, when he pulls away, and the way it happens is like Lucanis himself wasn't expecting his fear to overcome him. He wants, he lets himself be pulled forward, and then he suddenly gets drowned by overwhelming terror, and he pulls away.

The beginning of the romance (the date + almost kiss) reads to me as if Lucanis was trying to forget the Ossuary, letting himself flirt and feel attraction and just simply live again as if nothing happened, believing if he didn't think about his trauma and forcefully moved forward then it would stay buried, and then the Ossuary unexpectedly caught up to him, because you don't just bury things like that, it always comes back up at some point if you make no effort to actually process what happened.

And then there's nothing again for a long while. I can imagine Rook leaving space for Lucanis because they're considerate of his feelings and they can see something is deeply wrong, but still, something big and awkward happened between them! Not even one conversation where they try to gently broach the subject and Lucanis immediately clams up? What about some mentions of how awkward things suddenly are between the two? Even through party banter? We got plenty about Hawke and Fenris' situationship in DA2 after Fenris pulls away. The other companions comment on their breakup and how it's painfully obvious they're in love still, no matter what happened, and there are a few banters between Hawke and Fenris themselves. Surely things are a little tense and awkward between Rook and Lucanis as well at that point, and their friends would notice? They don't spend as much time together as they used to, Lucanis doesn't talk directly to Rook much anymore unless he has to, can't quite look them in the eye, doesn't want to stay alone in a room with them. He is still protective of them because he obviously cares very much, but can't bring himself to have an honest talk about his feelings and fears because he's still completely locked in his mind prison and would rather deal with his problems by stabbing his enemies.

Rook being lost because they haven't been inside his head yet and they're not sure if it's because of what Lucanis has been through, or if they did something wrong to get them rejected, and they're stuck because Lucanis completely refuses to open up. There are so many little things that could have been implemented to actually serve as the little steps for the slow burn. You're telling me even Emmrich or Neve, perceptive as they are, wouldn't have noticed their two friends suddenly being awkward and sad and not try to talk to Rook about it at the very least?

And then there's the mind prison where Rook gets all Lucanis' fears and insecurities explicitly told to them. Immediately followed by the scene where you lock in the relationship as he makes them dessert.

Were they in a relationship?? When did they get together? Do they get together right there in the kitchen by the sheer power of cake (ok, relatable)? You don't know! They almost kiss, things are theoretically painfully awkward between them for a while, Rook discovers the substance of his trauma, and poof. They're a couple. Yes, I know that Lucanis' love language is acts of service, but did they communicate at all at any point about what's going on between them? Surely even if Rook helping him out of his head puts him on the road to eventual recovery, it didn't suddenly erase all of Lucanis' trauma and fears and doubts.

I liked Rook calling out the subtext of what Lucanis says in that scene (“it's nothing, or not enough”/”it is, and you are”), I did think it was sweet and perceptive of them. But still, we go from attraction to pulling away to suddenly committing to a relationship with never actually discussing exactly what goes on between them. Never outright deciding they want to try something serious. There wouldn't have been much actual flirting or sincere conversations between them after the almost-kiss, for obvious reasons, so how does Lucanis know Rook hasn't moved on/isn't angry at him after all this time, considering how they didn't communicate at all afterwards and he's not exactly the best at feelings and self-confidence? He just talks as if it's a given they're attracted to him still, and only worries about not being good enough for them. I wanted crumbs of reassurance from Rook, more than what we got, because Lucanis' probable guilt is never actually tackled in any way – he had perfectly valid reasons to pull away, of course, but considering how much he blames himself for anything and everything, I'm pretty sure he would also blame himself for hurting Rook's feelings, even if they're understanding and not actually angry with him at all.

Idk. I have a lot of thoughts, especially about the middle of his romance. The last big scene we get is one of my favorites through all dragon age games, it was so sweet, but I still felt like the entire middle part of the romance lacked a lot of slow burn crumbs, and I was still hungry when I got to the end.

[cattyanon]

Didn't see that we'd gotten questions til now- whoops! I'll get to the others soon. Anyways...

I'd say the most shocking event was after Shadow killed Eclipse and the Dark Arms. How exactly that occurs is still something I need to think on but what I do know is that Sonic is very aware of the fact Shadow had to do with their deaths and he is NOT happy which has it's very surprising consequences.

You see, Shadow made a bit of a miscalculation. Because of his previous experiences with the Black Arms (mostly with Eclipse) he assumes that at least to some degree Sonic is being mind controlled when he's not. Manipulated and brainwashed into viewing Eclipse and the Dark Arms as family? Yes. Actually being controlled and made to do things against his will? No.

So once Shadow has killed them he thinks that Sonic will come back to his senses. "You're free now." But this was never the case- and Sonic is distraught and heartbroken. Shadow just killed who he (currently) views as his family under the false pretense that he was being controlled by them and this breaks him. He is pissed and he wants Shadow dead.

Then comes the real shocker- something not even Sonic knew would happen! I'm still working on the design (I've mostly got it down but I'm still not 100% happy with it...) but he undergoes a transformation I call "DNA Burst" which is exactly what it sounds like. The Black + Dark Arms DNA in him rapidly mutates on the spot in response to Sonic's feelings and Chaos energy. It's painful and he isn't really sure what happened but he feels much more powerful. Much more capable of getting revenge on Shadow. And who is he to let this opportunity go to waste?

He doesn't end up succeeding but I'm sure you can imagine Shadow gets quite the beatdown.

For the creators,

What’s the most out of pocket thing in your au that has/will happen?

Whether it’s a very shocking event or just rlly funny

that time the au collided with another/j

[thatlittlered]

rings of power men | terms of endearment

warning(s): not even spoilers really, gn!reader

author's note: these are mostly based on my other post about tropes I am convinced these men are written for

enjoy

-.-.-

Elrond

my love, my beloved, meleth nîn, my lovely, my precious love, light of my life, my beauty, my flower, my stars and sky and many, many more

You couldn't possibly get this man to call you by name once you make your feelings clear to one another. He is a poet after all.

Gil-galad

my beloved, my dear, my darling, melethrinen/melethronen

I think that even after you are wed, Gil-galad would refrain from referring to you by your given titles, unless in public. Expressing himself in such a tender and vulnerable manner does not come easily for him, but he will genuinely try for you.

Celebrimbor

guren vell (my sweet heart), precious one, dear, my Lady/Lord

The Elven-smith has never spoken loving words before so it might take a while, but once he is assured you return his feelings, he too is surprised by how easily they roll off his tongue. He won't specify this, but when he calls you by title it is because he pictures you ruling Eregion by his side.

Arondir

guren gîn (my heart)

He is a man of few words and tends to express his affection through actions instead. Simple as it is, it overflows with emotion each time it's spoken.

Elendil

my Queen/King, my dear heart, darling, melda (beloved, dear)

For the most part, he will still refer to you by title, even in your most private moments where keen ears are nowhere to be found. It is a title of reverence by now, especially when he calls you his. You might hold his heart in your hand, but he too, is the keeper of yours.

Valandil

wife/husband

Valandil knew who he was from a very young age the two of you would be together forever since the moment you met. The rest was details. It matters little whether you are betrothed, or married or anything else; you are his and he is yours.

Isildur

love

It is not a common occurrence. It's far more common for him to whisper your name with honey practically dripping from his mouth when he is calling out for you. He does however love and need being called all sorts of sweet names and that is mostly the reason why he cannot come up with any of his own. His mind goes blank.

bonus:

Adar

enda óma (heart of my heart)

He is a man who is very protective of all he deems his and you are no different. Your size, your strength, your fighting capabilities matter not, he will always view you as a beautiful, fragile thing he's come to care for and will do anything to guard from harm.

[thefirstknife]

Obsessed again. I couldn't actually play this week because my PC died (badly), but I did watch a friend play through the whole thing. So I'll be stealing screenshots.

But I'm obsessed with the Skolas cutscene and all the implications in it (and the song).

So the thing is that apparently the Echo is ... somewhat sentient. Obviously we knew some of that from last episode as well, because Echoes are made of people destroyed/attacked by the Witness so there's actual people in there. The previous Echo was made from the Qugu species and is specifically inhabited by the commander Te'Qal from the Dynasty lore book (highly recommended read, excellent proper scifi stuff in here).

We haven't learned about Revenant's Echo so far. Originally I thought that we'll get another lore book similar to Dynasty that explains what this Echo is made of, but we didn't. Instead, due to this cutscene... I think it was made from Eliksni. In some way. The Witness didn't destroy their entire species, but the Black Fleet did leave a huge and important mark and many Eliksni died on Riis and after. Their memories could be in the Echo. Transcript of the relevant bits (from Eso's video):

The song... hmm. A Whirlwind dirge. A seeking song for the lost. But... hmm. Variks does not recognise the singer. The Echo... It is the Echo that sings to us, Guardian. Sings of Riis, through our memories. It seeks an old strength. Strength to guide the scattered through a time of doubt and wrath... But it sees now how Fikrul wields its power... false life for an army of the slain, with those like Skolas for his pawns. The Echo seeks another wielder. It demands one who is worthy.

So there was a song that we followed in the mission and it led us to Fikrul (who holds the Echo) and Skolas. When we finished the fight, the cutscene played which explains why the song was there in the first place. It's a Whirlwind song, but it's being sang by the Echo itself, as if using memories of the Eliksni. So it would make sense that the Echo is made from them. To add to it, the seasonal lore book, The Garden-Way, final page mentions Chelchis singing a song:

This didn't seem too important before, but now after the cutscene I'm wondering!

It's also incredibly interesting that the Echo is apparently not interested in Fikrul anymore, implying a sort of sentience we haven't seen before. The last Echo was completely fine with Maya, which implies that this is due to the fact that Maya and Te'Qal are alligned. And that is true! Maya spoke highly of him and called him an ally, then also said that he lacked things that she has, so the two of them are empowering the Echo and work well together. The Echo was fine being in Maya's hands and still is.

But Fikrul and this one? Apparently don't get along. The Echo wants someone else, someone better and more worthy, and it is looking for that person while singing an old Eliksni song. I'm super interested to see who it will pick, if anyone. I think one of the strongest candidates is Eramis; a person who longs for Riis and protecting her people, but who never had proper powers to do so. She is a strong and capable leader and would use the Echo better than she did Darkness, because the Echo is essentially her kin (if it's correct that it's made from the Eliksni in some form).

There's other options as well, of course. There's even an option that we lose track of this Echo too, but it would be really interesting to see us gain one of them. Though in this case, if it is Eramis, she would probably take it with her to Riis, which is where she was headed before this whole thing went down.

Wild stuff going on, in between everything else. Needless to say, I'm hopelessly dependent on the lore about the Echoes which are glimpses into the lives and memories of ancient peoples. Fascinated to learn more about this one and where it ends up, and what waits for us next episode.

[yanderes-galore]

Oooh I wonder what would yandere Shinra as a platonic yandere be like 👀 can I please request that with hcs please with a cherry on top 

I mean... Dude goes to extreme lengths to get his brother back from what I remember. I wouldn't be surprised if he went feral when it came to his obsession either. Sorry this seemed so disorganized. I was overthinking a bit too much.

Minor spoiler warning for the end of the manga, I make small references to it based on what I've seen on it.

Yandere! Platonic! Shinra Kusakabe Concept

Pairing: Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Clingy behavior, Violence, Overprotective behavior, Fear of loss, Isolation, Murder, Blood, Dubious/Forced companionship.

Shinra has always wanted to be a hero in the eyes of the people.

He's had that promise to his mother since he was five.

He's always been one who wants to protect those close to him.

His entire life he's been seen as a devil due to his powers.

He was always blamed for killing his mother and brother.

In reality it was never him.

For most of his life, before he knew Shō was alive, Shinra had been alone.

Then he joined Fire Company 8.

Leading him to meet many new friends in his brigade... Including you.

I feel when it comes to his obsession, he'd want to be a hero but accidentally seem like a devil in the process.

He doesn't want you scared of him... but he can be ruthless with that power of his.

He only wants to use his power for good.

He's also, surprisingly, one to prioritize the mission over his own personal emotions.

Despite that I feel he'd slip up when it comes to you, the one he loves like he would love family.

An important thing to know about Shinra is the fact he's a destructive force.

He always has been with his Ignition Ability... along with whatever happens later in the manga.

He's always been someone who has treasured family.

He used to have a strong connection to his mother and brother when he was young.

So of course I'd see him be overly obsessive and protective towards someone he feels a similar way towards.

When Shinra met you in his Brigade he couldn't help but feel a connection.

You always wanted to help and never saw him as some destructive devil.

You admired his goal to be a hero... You supported him.

Even as Shinra got stronger... He always kept you in mind.

I never finished the manga, but from what I've seen I can tell Shinra's are stronger than everyone else... and just keeps getting stronger.

Apparently Shinra soon becomes stronger than a God near the end of the manga...

Having him as any type of yandere would be terrifying.

Even before he reaches that point, he's incredibly fast and strong.

He's already a powerhouse before his story concludes.

While he always tells you he just wants to protect you, to be your hero...

He could easily eviscerate anyone he wanted if he tried hard enough.

It's... actually scary to think about?

You're clueless and just see Shinra as your best friend, taking down Infernals and helping the populace be less scared of the flames.

All while Shinra is capable of world ending power that he just hasn't unlocked yet.

It's a... subtle danger.

I can see Shinra acting overly protective of you due to him seeing you as his found family.

He acts like a brother to you, always insistent he trains with you and always looking out for you....

With you he smiles genuinely.

He hasn't felt this happy in a long time.

I can see Shinra as a sacrificing yandere.

He'd do anything to see you happy and safe.

He lives for your smile.

Shinra has taken down many strong Infernals in his career.

I can see him taking blows for you to the point he comes out of the battle injured.

He acts like your shield, a destructive force willing to protect the one person her cherishes the most.

You could scold him all you want as he gets patched up...

Even your upset face is proof you're alive and still with him.

Shinra is obviously scared of loss.

He's scared one day the flames will steal you away from him like they did his family.

Honestly if that ever happened, he wouldn't cope.

He may actually snap if his Brigade doesn't get him under control.

He usually doesn't let his emotions drive his decisions.

Yet with you it's difficult.

He often has nightmares of you being made Infernal or another Infernal taking you out.

That fear always settles in the back of his mind like an annoying tick.

That fear is what makes him cling and hover around you, never wanting to look away for even a moment.

Shinra, platonic or romantic, is a force that only seems to be controlled by you at times.

When others ask how he feels about you, thinking his feelings must be something more than a friend, he answers the same thing every time...

"To they're family."

It's innocent enough...

But as his obsession continues, many begin to see how he fights as... devilish.

He has a noble goal, to protect you and all he loves.

Yet there's times he's more cruel than he should be.

There's times he gets too into it... gets too destructive...

It scares you when you realize how much power he has.

You don't doubt Shinra would do anything for you.

He's brave, confident, selfless...

Yet also impulsive, sometimes pushy and demanding....

Shinra is at his calmest when you two are at the Company 8 Cathedral.

He likes to sit by you during work or silently watch the stars with you.

He's admitted to you that he's glad you're beside him... that he sees you as a new family... that he'll do anything to see you safe.

Perhaps even kill, as he soon proves to you during battles against human forces.

Shinra seems fine to be around until he decides some humans need to be dealt with to keep you safe.

Shinra, as I said before, may slip and allow his paranoia to get to him.

He becomes obsessed with being your hero... your friend... maybe even someone you see like a brother...

So much so that he snaps.

At first he's just more clingy or argues with other members too often.

It's nothing big... you try to correct him since you care for him...

But you notice he's off the deep end when he kills someone in front of you.

Your life was threatened by a White-Clad.

You were going to handle it on your own... You had to...

Then Shinra shows up out of nowhere, Adolla Burst spitting flickering flames...

Only for you to see the White-Clad dead on the ground, a hole in their chest, and blood coating Shinra's leg.

When Shinra turns with a nervous grin...

He really does look like a devil, the thought striking fear in your heart as the fact he killed someone settles in.

You try to avoid Shinra after that, but of course he doesn't let you.

He loves you too much to just allow you to leave him.

He knows it's scary to see him do that...

But he does it because he's protecting you.

It isn't long after that Shinra begins to isolate you.

He wants you to rely on him... to see him as family like he does with you...

He isn't going to hesitate harming others if it means you're safe...

You can tell something in him snapped.

He probably snapped after fighting Shō the first time....

Shinra, after killing to protect you and fighting Shō in the Netherworld, isn't the same after that.

Fear drives him and suddenly his actions aren't heroic...

You can no longer see his smile in a positive light... because it's the same smile he makes before killing someone else...

To you he's become a devil, a powerful being unable to be controlled, and you can no longer believe his words when he says he'll protect you...

You hate that his only justification is your safety... He's only a monster to you... Perhaps he never was family.

[borutoxsarada]

Sumire in Boruto Two Blue Vortex Chapter 16 actually managed to make me roll my eyes at a Boruto Chapter. I understand that she is a teenager and everything but girl, hypocrisy is thy name and colour right now. You are lashing out at Sarada because you got jealous and now you have resorted to pettiness and potential emotional blackmailing. You knew Sarada had feelings for Boruto during your academy and genin days, then why the hell, instead of confessing your feelings to Boruto and asking him out when things were still alright, were you trying out to weed out a potential rival (who is your friend too on your terms) by telling her that you liked Boruto? Were you trying to "call dibs" on Boruto, almost treating him as a price in a race? And accusing Sarada of not considering Boruto's feelings? Wow. I have almost no words. Judging by your reaction, not only have you decided that Sarada’s feelings are not inconvenient as long as she prioritises yours above hers (and the moment she does not do that, you lash out), but also that you have never even considered a potential scenario where Boruto might actually be capable of returning someone's feelings, someone who is not you.

This chapter was really something else though. Sumire, please. I had higher hopes for you. I am just so disappointed right now.

[misshoneyimhome]

Hey ! Saw that you may write for Nathan Mackinnon!

Could you please write something really sweet and domestic, maybe husband!nathan, I absolutely love you writing! So thank you if you can !

Thank you so much, babe! ❤️ So, I’ve done my best to put together a little husband!Nathan one-shot, and I really hope I’ve managed to somewhat capture his character 😊 I hope you enjoy it!

Tropes & Warnings: No warnings, Husband!Nathan, just pure fluff, and a touch of humour as the reader lovingly tells Nathan to get over himself 😉

Word count: 1.1K

➼｡ﾟ

Through the Dark I Husband!Nathan Mackinnon ✐

Nathan MacKinnon had always carried himself with unshakable confidence. It wasn’t arrogance—just certainty. He knew who he was and what he was capable of: speed, precision, an unrelenting drive that set him apart as one of the NHL’s elite. It had earned him the respect of his teammates, the adoration of fans, and the fear of opponents. But lately, that certainty had started to crack.

The stats still painted him as a star—goals, assists, the usual accolades. But no amount of numbers could disguise how hollow it all felt. No matter how many hours he poured into training, how many drills he ran until his muscles screamed for mercy, something was missing. His movements on the ice felt disconnected, as if his body had forgotten what his mind knew by heart. The ice, once his sanctuary, now felt foreign.

He’d had slumps before—every player did. But this was different. It wasn’t just his game faltering; it was him. Every missed pass, every fumbled puck, every critical comment from analysts chipped away at his confidence, leaving behind splintered fragments of doubt. What if I’ve peaked? What if I can’t pull myself out of this? What if I let everyone down? My team, the fans… you.

You.

The thought of you twisted the knife deeper. You, his rock, his safe place, his wife. You’d stood by him through every high and low, through every triumph and heartbreak. He still remembered the way you looked the first time he saw you—a smile that made him forget how to form a coherent sentence. You’d teased him mercilessly when he tripped over his words, and he’d been hooked ever since.

Your love had been a slow burn, built on late-night conversations and stolen moments in the off-season. When he’d finally worked up the nerve to confess his feelings, it had been like scoring the winning goal in overtime—euphoric and terrifying all at once. And when he’d proposed to you under the glittering snowfall of a New Year’s Eve, he’d been certain nothing could ever compare to that victory. Not even the Stanley Cup.

But now, those memories felt like they belonged to someone else. A version of himself that didn’t second-guess every move, that didn’t stay at the rink until midnight, chasing something he couldn’t define. He’d been avoiding you without meaning to, throwing himself into extra practices and solitary workouts. The truth was, he was afraid—afraid that you’d see him like this. That you’d see through his carefully constructed façade and realise he wasn’t enough.

The arena was dark and silent as he skated in slow, aimless circles. Midnight had come and gone, and he knew you’d be waiting for him at home. But the thought of walking through the door, of facing you and pretending he was fine, felt unbearable.

The sharp sound of footsteps broke through the stillness. He looked up, startled, and saw you standing by the edge of the rink. You were bundled in your favourite coat, a scarf wrapped snugly around your neck, your eyes glinting with equal parts concern and determination.

“Seriously, Nate?” you called, stepping carefully onto the ice. “It’s one in the morning. Do you have any idea what kind of scenarios I’ve been imagining? Ditches, kidnappings, alien abductions…”

“I texted,” he muttered weakly, his voice barely carrying.

“Once. At eight. That doesn’t count.” Your tone softened as you drew closer. “What’s going on?”

He sighed, leaning on his stick like it was the only thing keeping him upright. “I didn’t want to bring this home.”

“And yet, here I am.” You stepped in front of him, your boots sliding slightly on the ice. “Talk to me.”

He hesitated, the words caught in his throat. Finally, he muttered, “I feel like I’m failing. On the ice. In life. Everywhere.” He paused, his voice cracking. “What if… what if I don’t get it back? What if I’m never the same? What if you realise I’m not enough?”

Your chest tightened at his words, the raw vulnerability in his voice cutting through you like a blade. Without hesitation, you took his stick and set it aside, then placed your hands on his face, forcing him to meet your gaze.

“Nathan MacKinnon,” you said firmly, “you are more than enough. Whether you score a hundred goals or never lace up your skates again, you’re the man I love. You. The guy who buys me flowers on random Tuesdays. The guy who hogs the pillows but always makes sure I have the softest one. The guy who sings Backstreet Boys at the top of his lungs when he thinks no one’s listening.”

His lips quirked into the faintest of smiles. “I don’t sing,” he protested.

“Oh, you do,” you said, arching an eyebrow. “And it’s terrible. But I love it anyway. I love you.”

He looked down, blinking rapidly, as if trying to hide the emotions welling up in his eyes. “What if I can’t fix this?” he whispered.

“Then we figure it out together,” you replied without hesitation. “But you need to stop shutting me out. I’m here, Nathan. Always.”

For a moment, he just stood there, his gaze locked on yours. Then, with a shaky breath, he pulled you into his arms, holding you so tightly it felt like he was afraid you might slip away. “I don’t deserve you,” he murmured against your hair.

You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, a playful glint in your own. “Oh, you absolutely don’t. But lucky for you, I’m not going anywhere.”

He let out a surprised laugh, the sound echoing through the empty rink and chasing away the shadows that had been haunting him.

“Come on,” you said, grabbing his hand. “Let’s go home. You look like you haven’t eaten in hours, and I’m not above bribing you with pizza.”

Later, as you curled up together on the couch, the smell of reheated pizza lingering in the air, Nathan felt something shift inside him. You were nestled against him, your legs tangled with his under the blanket, your head resting on his chest. His fingers traced slow, absentminded patterns on your arm as he stared down at you.

“You know you’re ridiculous, right?” he murmured, his voice soft but teasing.

“Part of my charm,” you quipped, grinning up at him.

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I love you,” he said simply, his voice thick with gratitude.

“Good thing I love you too,” you replied, leaning up to kiss his cheek.

And in that moment, as the warmth of your love wrapped around him, Nathan felt the weight in his chest begin to lift. He didn’t have all the answers, but he didn’t need to. Because whatever challenges lay ahead, he knew he wouldn’t face them alone.

With you by his side, he could navigate any darkness. Together, you’d always find the light.

[solavelyan]

yet more "mythal was andraste" (and related flemeth) thoughts (and a readmore to save your dashboards from my rambling)

our lady of (perpetual) victory is a name for andraste, so obviously the eluvian you find in veilguard's opener is underneath an andraste monument. and what more appropriate place for solas's hideout to be than hidden under a statue of one of mythal's lives (whether he realizes it or not)

with how much matching symbolism and how many hints there are in veilguard that mythal was andraste despite andrastianism/the chantry itself being so downplayed in this specific game, i feel almost completely comfortable saying that andraste-was-a-mythal-vessel is functionally canon -- but also that i don't think it will ever be bluntly stated in a game. it might show up in an artbook or if they do another world of thedas? maybe? but it seems that the choice was made a long time ago to never confirm the true nature of the maker/andraste in maintext and they've stuck to that. maybe that will change if they get a DA5 or they get DLC and do something whacky with it, but i wouldn't expect it at all

but also, like... i was mostly right about the evanuris/old tevinter gods situation 10 years ago and this all has the same vibes and more evidence, so

however, i don't think that solas knows that andraste had a mythal shard. i think he would have been much much much less amiable to the idea of the (distinctly andrastian) version of the maker and less generally neutral about the andraste of it all in inquisition if he knew. i'm not given to the impression that he sat down and had a long chit-chat with flemeth at any point in time; avoiding mythal seems to be his preference in the modern era, out of shame if nothing else, so i don't see flemeth really having the time with him to have gotten around to mentioning it, if we even assume it's the same piece of her

which i do, btw. i do think flemeth has the same chunk of mythal that andraste did, and i would even venture to say that flemeth is a blood relative of andraste. both of them are explicitly stated to have only ever had daughters, and andraste's biological children only had daughters themselves. it's one of those details that's kind of a fun fact if you do it once, but clearly a trend if you do it twice. i don't think mythal was hopping from one andraste descendant to the next, necessarily, but i can see her having enough of a soft spot to show up for flemeth when original recipe flemeth called out for help from the spirits

with all of this, given DAO and silent grove lore... i'm inclined to think that flemeth - who we know is capable of and willing to section off parts of herself to survive her potential death - is probably the first of mythal's vessels to decide to "follow" her. we know that morrigan remembers flemeth as young once, and that she body-hops when she gets very old, but it's also clearly still the same person in the modern era as it was in 3:00-something

morrigan in veilguard also claims flemeth's titles. so i'm inclined to believe that "flemeth" is both an actual person's name and kind of functionally a title for whatever a daughter becomes when they accept the mix of godhood and memories that gets passed down. morrigan just might be the first one to still call herself by her old name instead of adopting "flemeth" as a moniker

[adrinktostopyourthirst]

Bucky Barnes | One Shot | Rebound

Part two to Underground

Pairing: Fighter!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Plot: You lose your last tether to the normal world and Bucky has to make a decision. You’re officially part of the Underground. Does he help you, or not?

Warnings: 18+. Angst, violence, fluff and smut.

Words: 5OOO

The demanding throbbing in your feet nearly feels delightful as you drag yourself home to your cramped apartment. As the sun rises and the city turns pink and orange, your building starts to come alive. Though you can barely manage to keep your eyes open.

You can tell the Underground is starting to toughen you up. You make longer days, are a bit paler in your face, making your features sharper, and the bravado you muster as you survive every night is surely something that has started to cling to your face and posture permanently. The people that start their days at sunrise, the ones that weren’t blipped from society and still have a life to return to, they walk around you in a big circle now.

It only makes you feel smug. The society slowly casting you out – starting to fear you.

However, your confidence has a short lifespan when you walk up to the front door of your apartment. The fresh paper with red capital letters stamped on it shouldn’t come as a surprise. You have tried to hold this moment off for as long as possible, going even as far as to take small side jobs in the fighting dome to make some extra money.

You suppose it was only a matter of time before you’d have the words ‘EVICTION NOTICE’ stamped across your door.

And your adrenaline spikes again, realising the time has come that you are officially homeless. You have been well and truly cast out by society, something both you and Natasha had been trying to fight and hold off for as long as possible. This is why the spy had introduced you to the Underground, to make some sort of living. And Nat had never judged you for staying in denial a little longer, even though you knew you would have to get used to the Underground fast, because it was only a matter of time before it would be your new home.

So no sleep for now.

You rip open the door and start packing, leaving all the old furniture that was already there and ending up with one big, stuffed duffel bag and a smaller bag. And then you stand in your place that is no longer your place and truly has never really felt like your place. You look around and feel angry …and hurt. After all, you have been chewed up and spit out, like so many before you.

You stuff that feeling far, far away and vacate the building right as de evening rolls back in. Evening already – since you have tried to put off this moment for as long as possible, have extended packing for hours. Since you don’t have a clue where Natasha lives, if she even resides in the country right now, you are forced to step to the one person you do not want to go to…

As you enter the dome, the place eerily quiet since the nightlife is a long way from commencing, you mildly greet the bartenders and crewmembers readying for the night. You scrunch your face at the stench, wondering if the place ever really gets cleaned. In the darker corners you see things that you decide are none of your business and you drag yourself through centre of the Underground, the capitol of dodgy business.

Making your way to the locker room, you breathe a sigh of relief when you find it empty. Finding a locker in the far back, you stuff it full with your last belongings and pray that none of it gets stolen. Maybe you can find a place in this building to sleep in. You have definitely seen other people crash here for the night, though you debate how safe you’d be. You hardly think you’d close an eye in a place like this.

Then, all the hairs on your body stand up straight.

You slowly turn to find Bucky staring at you, one brow quirked and that being the only sign of his curiosity. “Why are you already here?”

You swallow, “Just trying to get some extra work in.”

Neither of you have talked about what happened nearly a month ago. How you rode his leg with his fingers inside of you until you had one of the most intense orgasms of your life. And how that had been enough for him to come nearly untouched. Well, you say untouched, but you had felt just how heavy he was on your tongue and that’s where you wanted him coming next. Badly.

And you can’t exactly say the tension between you has shifted much. Something that made you realise just how high tensions between you already were. But you dropped it, so had he.

“You have to be careful with those side businesses,” he tells you as he turns to his own locker, one that does have a lock. “People will take advantage of a woman like you.”

“I can take care of myself just fine, thank you,” you snap at him and move to find your bag of supplies for the fight. You try to calm your breathing as you find the bag, kneel down and rummage through it, checking if you need to restock any of your supplies, if only to give yourself something to do for the upcoming hours.

But your spine stiffens again and it’s a little darker around you. So you turn and immediately stand up with you see Bucky looming over you. His eyes rove over your face, peering straight through to your soul, where it quivers before him.

“If you could take care of yourself,” he drawls, “you wouldn’t be homeless right now.”

You startle, “What? How do you know?”

He smiles, but it feels more vindictive than smug. “Because word travels fast, sweetheart, and a pretty girl like you on the loose is gold in the Underground.” He pauses and then his smirk turns smug, “Especially when she’s desperate.”

“I’m not desperate!” you squawk in outrage and he takes a step closer, close enough to feel his breath fanning over your face.

He clenches his jaw, eyes hardening. “What are you going to do?”

“I’ll figure it out.”

“How?”

“That is none of your concern.”

Bucky lets out a humourless laugh, tilting his head up and running his tongue over his teeth in annoyance before he lowers his gaze back to yours. “You see, it seems like I’ve signed a stupid fuckin’ contract where that is my concern. So please tell me you have a plan and I don’t have to intervene.”

“Intervene?” you sneer and roll your eyes. “Please, it’s not like you can offer me anything out of this place. You’re not here by choice.”

He quirks his brow, seemingly intrigued by that assumption. “Is that what you think? What if I was here by choice, huh? What if I chose this life?”

You fall silent at that, and decide to keep it like that. An argument with him won’t be worth it. Besides, what are you going to tell him? You have nothing and no one. You are officially at your wit’s end and for you, that is saying a lot. The silence stretches… and stretches…

“Give me something to do,” you tell him quietly –deflated– when he doesn’t break the silence either. You don’t see Bucky’s face soften when he watches the defeat in your face before you stare down at the ground.

Bucky’s skin prickles like there is electricity in the air. Because he’s angry. He’s pissed and furious and so fucking angry. That the world can spit out a woman like you, like it has let down so many good people after the Blip.

And the anger doesn’t cease. It only gets worse, like magma bubbling under his skin and boiling his bones. That night, he beats up opponent after opponent in what seems like a record time. People get killed in these fights all the time, they fight to the death all the time. After all, there are too many people and they know what they signed up for when they enter this place. Yet, it’s a line Bucky has never crossed, never will cross. Not anymore.

It’s difficult, to stay of this side of that line tonight. He wants to kill. He feels the soldier crawling under his skin, flipping knives in anticipation, begging Bucky to unleash him. And he thinks he has hardly been this angry before. Bucky yanks on that leash and fights, each punch and kick doing nothing to quench his thirst for justice.

Win after win, Bucky ruins everyone who dares to take it up against him. But he doesn’t hear the crowd – the screams for more blood and sensation, the cheers that he is the most dangerous man in the Underground. He only hears the rushing of his blood in his ears as he thinks about the woman the world has abandoned – as he thinks about you.

…

“Grab your bags. You’re coming with me.”

You gape at your two bags sitting on the leather bench and peer back at all of the lockers, each of them seeming like they have been ripped open with brute force, some of them dented in a manner that looks like a metal hand gripped its edges. You briefly glance at his metal hand and then up to his face.

Unflinching. His command and his face.

So you grab your bags and follow after him silently. Through countless of alleys and wild crowds that seem to think the night of violence has only just begun, even though the sky is turning lilac with dawn. You sometimes hobble to catch up with the soldier, your arms quaking under the weight of your duffel bag. But you keep marching onward, the last dregs of your energy fuelled by what is to come.

The stairs of the industrial building are almost too much, but you try not to stumble since Bucky is walking behind you and that would severely hurt your pride. The fatigue is making every step feel like torture, like you’re climbing a sandy hill and you have to move carefully to keep from slipping into the dark depths. When you do stumble slightly, the weight of your duffel tipping you backwards, you feel the faintest nudge of a warm hand at your lower back, just enough to tip you back and let you continue your trek up the stairs.

Bucky overtakes you at last and opens a door with around twenty locks attached to it, all of them unlocked. He walks in like it’s habitual and you trudge after him, your energy spiking enough to take in the sight. Bucky walks over to the floor to ceiling windows and rolls down the beige canvas curtains. Just as the sun peaks over the horizon of the city and orange light pours into what you can only assume is Bucky’s home.

It's big. Simple and imposing, but cosy nonetheless. There are plants, a fact that has you fighting to keep from smiling. And brown leather furniture, a beautiful and clean kitchen… You turn your gaze back to the man of the house, who is now standing beside a massive bed with cream sheets and fluffy pillows. Your eyes become bleary at the sight, sleep fighting its way to the surface and threatening to drag you to the floor.

Bucky panics slightly at the look on your face and strides over, grasping your bag from your trembling arms. He has to hold back from cursing at the thought that you must not have slept for over forty-eight hours and how dreadful the past day must have been for you.

He guides you to his bed and lets you collapse into the sheets as he pulls off your boots. Bucky knows you would have put up more of a fight if you weren’t so exhausted, but he won’t use it against you. Just like you didn’t use his weakness against him when you were massaging him.

That massage.

He cannot cast the thought from his brain. Never mind what followed the massage. The woman that was on his knees for him, that came around his fingers and was moaning for him so beautifully – she seems like such a far cry from the woman before him. How you can be so careful and feisty, yet such a dream when it comes to his most sinful fantasies. What you did to him in that locker room that day has been playing in his head on repeat. And he wants to slap himself for wanting to crawl beneath the sheets now, drag those clothes off your body, spread your thighs and bury his face between them–

He quickly stands from the bed and clears his throat, casting you one more look before he’s off to the kitchen area and refill his energy in other ways.

…

When you wake up, it’s dark again. It takes you a while to orient yourself, your body fighting off the heavy blanket of sleep you have been swaddled in. The bed below you is more comfortable than anything you have ever felt and the smell–

Pushing up to a seat, your body becomes alert of your surroundings just in time to hear the rattle of about twenty locks opening. In walks Bucky, slumping as he moves his bruised body across his own floors. He notices you, doesn’t pay you any mind, and then plants himself to sit at the edge of the bed you are laying in. He bends down with a quiet grunt, unlacing his boots and peeling them from his feet.

He seems exhausted. And judging by the darkness, he has called in an early night. You push off the sheets and crawl towards him. Bucky tenses almost imperceptibly, but you gently put your palms on his wide shoulders. You swear you see him shudder, before his back bends over more in relaxation.

“I lost tonight,” he tells you as you slowly circle your warm palms over his back.

He lost. That’s unlikely. Something must have happened for him to lose. He must have been distracted. Or someone new has joined the Underground. Something’s maybe different. Shit, you were supposed to take care of him yesterday. He’d fought harder than you’d ever seen him fight. He must have been broken this morning– But, no. He has fought fights without your care for God knows how long. It couldn’t have made a difference now.

“What happened?” you ask, doubtful he’ll open up to you.

His head snaps backwards and you flinch at the look in his eyes. “What do you mean ‘what happened’? You happened. Can’t fucking focus with you being all dramatic with your personal bullshit.”

You draw back. “Excuse me?! I don’t recall making my problems yours!”

“Well, they are now, aren’t they?” he snipes back and runs his hands through his hair in frustration.

And you think maybe it’s not you he’s frustrated with.

“What do you want from me?” you ask quietly. Timidly.

You barely hear him, his voice muffled by his hands as he speaks, “I want you on all fours.”

But you did hear him. Some part of you heard him, that’s for sure. The heat that left your body after your endless sleep is returning to you in a different form, pebbling your skin with anticipation. You swallow hard and barely manage to get out, “What?”

Bucky takes a deep breath and slowly turns to you.

“Lie on your stomach.” The order is soft, but so, so clear and not gentle by any means. You search his eyes frantically, but only find his immovable self. Your traitorous body lights on fire at what she finds. So you do as you’re told.

And you wait.

Two large, warm hands travel up your clothed legs. Kneading your calves, your thighs, until they knead your ass. You cannot help but push your hips back to seek the pressure. You feel his looming presence crawl over you and you hold your breath. Soft lips press to your shoulder that got exposed after your shirt slipped slightly.

His hands slip around your hips and under them. The feeling of your jeans popping open, makes your core throb with need. He pulls your jeans down, but not off. No, just far enough down for access and to keep you in place, barely enough give even allow you to squirm.

Then, you feel his weight press into your body and you could have never imagined feeling his weight would be enough to make you want to moan. That’s when you register the feeling of his hard bulge against your ass and you push up against him again. Bucky answers with a muffled growl against your shoulder, followed by a gentle bite as a warning.

“Careful,” he drawls, one hand holding him up slightly as his other spreads over your side and slips under your shirt to feel your bare skin. You shudder at the feeling and bite your lip, your fingers curling into the pillow below your head.

How is this even possible? How can you deteriorate so quickly when he has barely touched you? His breaths turn heavy against your neck and you twist your head to hear him better, your mouth so close to his now. You wonder why it is that his breathing is coming out more laboured, but the only thing you can come up with is that it’s plain old restraint that is stiffening his body, his lungs.

One of your hands reaches back and up, and you scrape the pads of your fingers over his stubble. Bucky’s grip on the sheets tightens and his hips roll down into you in response. His mouth attaches itself to your neck and he hums as he grazes his teeth over your skin, his tongue soothing the pain instantly.

“Bucky,” you whisper and he rolls his hips again. The hand under your shirt slides to your front and grabs your breast, kneading the flesh in his hand. Desperate, clingy. He groans.

Something is shifting between the two of you and you feel a rawness coming to the surface. You remind yourself Bucky is requesting this for a reason, but he might be lost in it. In you. Then, you hear him mumble against your skin. Something you’re not sure he wants you to hear, but you give a soft coo to urge him to repeat himself.

“Please,” he moans softly. “Please.”

His hand slides down and wastes no time before slipping into your underwear, his entire hand cupping your cunt as he rolls his fingers through your folds. You gasp and let out a moan, writhing your hips when you cannot choose between moving up or down.

He’s rutting into you like a starved man, his fingers indulging in their exploration like he’ll find salvation between your legs. You open your mouth to ask him what he wants, but he rolls his fingers over your clit and you let out a whimper instead, making Bucky nuzzle his nose right below your ear.

“You’re all warm,” he mumbles and kisses your neck, your jaw – so close to your lips. His fingers are torture, so devious yet so innocent. As if he’s completely content playing with you like this for hours. Your belly flutters and tightens and warms at the sensations he coaxes to the surface.

It’s selfish, what he’s doing. This is all him, trying to console himself.

“Don’t,” you breathe desperately and roll your hips into his hand. “Don’t tease, Bucky.”

“ ‘M not. Just feeling you,” he whispers and you open your mouth to fight him on it, but then his warm mouth covers yours and the moan that spills from your throat is sinful. His tongue immediately invades you and you melt as he consumes you everywhere that he can. One finger slips through your wetness and into you and Bucky inhales the response you give him, groaning in response.

He grinds down, so do you, completely out of sync and with mouths moving desperately over each other. You cling to your pillow with one hand and bury your other in Bucky’s hair, pulling when he adds another finger and his weight keeps you from moving into him more. You whine against him, sensations at war within you when he keeps playing with you like a selfish cat.

“I’m so fucking wet,” you whimper and Bucky grunts in agreement, nibbling on your bottom lip. “Just stop playing–”

Bucky laughs then – laughs – a manly chuckle as he nudges his nose against yours. You want to cry for mercy and your toes curl when his fingers do, making you clench around him tightly. Your orgasm is being dangled in front of you like a carrot and you wonder if he just wants you to feel the way he feels. Frustrated, angry. Like he has no control whatsoever.

But what he does next goes so fast, it makes your head spin. Your body goes cold when his fingers leave you and when his body rises from yours, leaving you behind. But your hips get lifted and the pillow below your head gets snatched and shoved beneath your hips. You try to move, if only to accommodate his inexplicable actions, but your jeans are keeping you from moving.

You feel him crawl over you again and this time, you do moan at the pressure, bending your back to press up against him. He grinds down in response and you feel the pressure of the pillow against your womb, shooting tingles through your limbs when you realise what he’s done.

One of Bucky’s hands slides over yours and pins it to the mattress, your fingers automatically curling around the security of his. And it’s nice, the feeling of him engulfing you. It feels safe and warm and insanely intense. You turn your head, hoping to find him near. Your heart swells when he presses a kiss to your cheekbone.

“I want to fuck you,” he murmurs against you skin and you nod frantically, making him chuckle again. “I’m not against begging for it at this point.”

And apparently, you’re not entirely gone, since your lips curl into a smirk and your voice drops to a low purr when you tell him, “Please beg for me.”

How ironic, to beg someone to beg for you. Though, your brief confidence doesn’t falter. If anything, it is about to skyrocket.

“Come on, baby,” he murmurs against your ear, his soft lips moving against the sensitive skin. “Let me inside you. Let me make you feel good.” He sounds so genuine, so depraved and full of longing. You have to swallow down the carnal desire that crawls up your throat. You nearly choke when you feel the tip of his bare cock nudge against your folds. “Open up for me. Let me slip right in and I’ll fuck you into the mattress, okay? My mattress.”

You nearly whine, all ready to completely cave for him. And then he finishes it with a whisper in your ear, “Please, sweetheart. Let me have you.”

Yeah. Yes. Oh, yes. You mouth the words, but no sound comes out. You might be slipping outside of your body. The way Bucky sounds – his voice so deep, yet needy. You can only nod your head and squeeze his hand, rubbing yourself up against the tip of him.

“Hm, good girl.”

He slides home with one easy thrust, pressing you down into the mattress and skating his cock over each of your swollen walls. You cannot form a sound, or a thought, or catch a fucking breath. Especially not when he rotates his hips slightly and presses down even further.

You nearly choke, quiet for a long second, before you heave in all the oxygen that you can manage, “Oh my god!”

He pulls out slightly and rolls back in, keeping you full and stuffed and only nudging your spot with the tip of him. Over, and over, and over–

“That’s the spot, huh?” he pants against your ear and ruts into you further. “Right… there.” You gasp on a whine and he presses a kiss to your temple. The pillow adds a delicious pressure and you wish to put your hand there, just to feel him move in and out of you.

It’s so perfect, so sating, so much and deep and– You didn’t know it could be like this. Didn’t know it was possible to suddenly realise how screwed you are for the future. How nothing and no one will ever be able to compare to this. To him.

Your orgasm crawls closer and it feels like nothing you have felt before. Your clit is throbbing and aching and your walls are hugging Bucky like he’s never allowed to leave. Your hips tighten and your shoulders scrunch as your orgasm clamps down on you like a snake ready to strike.

“Bucky, I’m–”

He tightens his grip on your hand and latches onto your hip. “Yeah, I know. Me, too.”

You hear the strain in his voice, the hint of disappointment and you scramble to get your brain back in order. “Come in me, Bucky. Come inside me,” you rush out through quick breaths. You can’t elaborate. You just need him to fill you.

He leans back over and slows his thrusts, his breath fanning over your flushed skin. “Yeah? You want me to make a mess of you? You want proof that I fucked you deep enough?”

You let out a grumpy whine and he laughs beautifully as he drops his forehead to the back of your head. He picks up his thrusts, slow and deep and steady. His swollen cock slides over every cushion inside of you and you shudder at how sensitive your are so close to your orgasm. But it comes quicker than you anticipated. You wanted him to go faster, but with this tempo, you feel the orgasm that is coming closer might drown you.

You open your mouth to protest, to tell him to speed up, but the wave has already reached the shore and your ears hollow out.

The tremors seem to start from within as you swell with pleasure, seizing around Bucky and threatening to curl up. You think you might be grasping for something to hold onto as Bucky remains consistent through your orgasm, fucking into you with a steady rhythm and meeting you with every contraction of your high.

It is so completely overwhelming that you barely feel it when he comes, if it isn’t for the litany of beautiful moans and whimpers from him against your neck. He bites your skin to ground himself through his own orgasm and then melts over your body, pulling your hand to his lips.

Bucky quiets his own breaths to make sure he hears yours and is happy to learn how sated and satisfied you sound with your soft pants. He crawls off of you and gently tugs you over on your back, smiling as he watches you bend to his will.

Peeling off your jeans, he keeps his eyes on you, mesmerised with the sight and the feeling of having you in his bed. A feeling he had yesterday, too. Not just lust…

Your eyes peel open and you peer down at him while he strokes his sweaty palms up and down your calves and thighs. “Is this part of my ruse as a physical therapist and personal nurse now?”

Bucky quirks a brow at your wit and you feel something unfamiliar at the relaxation on him. How he seems more expressive and gentle and less guarded.

“No, this is private.”

Bucky’s eyes rove over your body and you flush with warmth, both from his words and from his assessing stare. You feel him drip from between your legs and swallow, fighting the urge to close your thighs. But Bucky, ever the trained assassin, immediately notices and lets a smirk crawl over his face.

He leans down and presses his lips to your left knee, eyes narrowing in on your cunt. “I thought I was going to have a heart attack when you told me to come inside of you.” You freeze at his words and keep a close eye on him. “I fucking knew the sight would be good, but–”

He lets out a starved groan.

You sound wary, “Bucky.”

He spreads your knees and crawls down to kneel at the foot of the bed, tugging you towards the edge. Surely, he wouldn’t–

You throw your head back when Bucky dives head first between your legs, running a flat tongue through your folds. You’re not sure if it’s the taste or simply the idea of him licking you clean of himself, but Bucky growls and hauls you closer, nudging his nose against your clit like he’ll never find anything better than what’s between your thighs.

You cannot help but bury your fingers in his hair, the wild throbbing between your legs pushing your mixed essences out and onto his tongue where Bucky drinks it up appreciatively. His fingers dig into your flesh and it takes a while for Bucky’s ministrations to have any other purpose than to taste you. But when he sucks your clit into his mouth, you tug on his hair with warning, making him chuckle.

“You don’t fight fair,” you choke out and he grins up at you.

“Oh, sweetheart, if you knew what the prize was, you wouldn’t fight fair either,” he murmurs and moans in delight as he continues his feasting. “Now how about you give me that prize and come on my tongue, huh?”

No, Bucky didn’t lose tonight.

[inkskinned]

one of the things about having an unstable parent is that it can so easily ruin your future. you want to get out, but getting out takes having agency. it takes the resume and the grades and the stellar community service history.

but you have to choose your battles. you know if you sign up for an after-school activity, it'll be okay for a while, so long as the activity is parent-approved and god-fearing. over time, like all things, it will become an argument (i can't keep carting your ass to these things) or a weapon (talk to me like that again, see if you get to go to practice). sometimes, if you love the thing, it's worth it. but you also know better than to love something: that's how they get you. if you ever actually want something, it will always be the center of their attention. they will never stop threatening you with it. telling you of course i'm a good parent, i came to all of those stupid events.

you learn to balance yourself perfectly. you can either have a social life or you can have hobbies. both of these things will be under constant scrutiny. you spend too much time with her, you should be at home with family is equally paired with you're acting like this because you're addicted to what's on that goddamn screen. you cannot ever actually win, so everything falls within a barter system that you calculate before entering: do you want to learn how to drive? if so, you'll need to give up asking for a new laptop, even though yours died. maybe you can work on a computer at the library. of course, that would mean you'd be allowed to go to the library, which would mean something else has to bleed. nothing ever actually comes free.

and that bitter, horrible irony: you could be literally following their orders and it still isn't pretty. they tell you to get a job; they hate that your job keeps you late and gives you access to actual money. they tell you to do better in school; they say no child of mine needs a tutor. they want you to stop being so morose, don't you know there are people who are really suffering - but they revile the idea you might actually need therapy.

you didn't survive that fall the way other people would. you've seen other people scramble and get their way out, however they could. maybe you were made too-soft: the answer didn't come to you easily. it wasn't quick. it was brutal and nasty. some people even asked you why didn't you just work hard and escape during school? and you felt your head spinning. why didn't you? (they control your financial aid. they control your loan status. they love having that kind of thing). maybe in another life you got diagnosed sooner and got the meds you needed to actually focus and got attention from the right teachers who helped you clear hurdles to get up out of here - but for now? here?

the effort of trying. the effort of not-dying. that kind of effort was absolutely agonizing.