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jamespotterismydaddy · 4 months

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Capture the Flag

luke castellan x reader

pt 2

A/N: now that i'm writing for other fandoms, feel free to let me know if you only want to be on a hotd taglist. But now, please enjoy the strongest swordsman in camp halfblood

TW: MAJOR SMUT, slight bondage, rough smut, violence, lowkey dark(ish)!luke

word count: 1,699 words

You want Luke Castellan’s head speared on your sword.

It’s like you spend every minute preparing for capture the flag because of him. He spends every last minute of each game cutting down your teammates and stealing your flag, so now it’s time to change the tactic. You ditch your father’s usual battle advice of going for the kill and hope that defence is the best offence for once. You also pray that he will guide your sword anyhow. So there you stand, guarding your flag with two of your most vicious teammates. You dodge the blue team’s first attack that was supposed to draw you off. You may have a short temper but you aren’t stupid. And you’re more than pleased to see the look of surprise on Luke’s face as he approaches.

“Fucking Ares kids.” He grumbles, sword drawn.

“Were you not expecting me, Castellan?” You ask with a vengeful smirk.

He goes right for you. You’re the biggest threat there but he likes to think you’re not even close to his skill level. You would believe that the man plans to cut you down and then your teammates. He always aims for the glory of it all.

“How’s your team gonna get our flag if you’re here?” He asks as he makes the first swing. It’s much better to start off on offence and he’s the one coming at you.

“Who cares. When you’re done, so is your team.” You block him, hating to be on defence but he’s too quick.

“Gods, you didn’t plan ahead of that? There really isn’t anything in that pretty little head of yours, is there? Other than rage of course.”

You’re a hothead. He knows it. You know it and it doesn’t take much to rile you up. When you’re riled up, you get sloppy. At this point, you don’t care if he guts you, you go for the little fucker’s ankles. You’re actually surprised when he stumbles from blocking your attack. It’s a stupid mistake, especially for him. Though, you aren’t going to let a chance like this slip by. You keep pushing him back, trying to leave him no chance to think in between swings. He trips over a log behind him, the sword falling from his hand. He has no chance now, not on the ground and you won’t be letting him get up.

“Who’s the idiot now?”

He looks at you as you approach slowly, taunting him. He then grabs his sword and makes a break for it. You’re too shocked to even keep him down.

What the fuck.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen Luke Castellan run from a fight. Not in your 4 years at camp. So you chase after him.

He’s fast, faster than you but you push yourself. He trails away… and away. Then you lose him.

“Godsdamnit!” You scream into the woods as you jog around where you last saw him.

You know you can’t stray for long if you’re not fighting Luke so you turn to make your way back to the flag. That’s when he jumps out at you with his sword swinging. You barely have time to block and it puts you off your balance. He swings at you again and again. You fall as you continue to block the merciless strikes. You’re practically holding your sword in the air and hoping for the best. The best doesn’t come as the weapon flies from your hand. He descends on you, straddling your waist as he holds the blade to your throat. He’s smirking.

“You don’t try nearly hard enough.” He says to you. “I know you’re not very clever but hades, my teammates probably already have the flag over the barrier.”

That’s when you realize how easily you were deceived. Luke didn’t run from you because you bested him; he ran to draw you off. It was a pathetically simple plan and it worked. The heat rises to your cheeks from humiliation. He grabs your two hands and pins them above your head, his grip gentle but also firm.

“I’ll put you in your grave.” You spit out at him.

“Will you now? While I have you essentially restrained?” He’s clearly amused.

You struggle beneath him with all your force but all you manage to do is roll your hips against him, earning a groan from the man. You feel it too, the burning ache between your thighs. You want him. Worse yet, he wants you.

“Let me up.”

“No. I think you quite like how I have you pinned to the ground.” He smirks.

“You’re delusional.”

“You’re wet.”

He slips a knee between your thighs and rubs it against your clothed pussy. It takes everything in you not to whimper.

“S-Stop.” You stutter out.

“Make me.” He murmurs, continuing to make you grind down on his knee as he leans down and forces you into a hot kiss. You hate how you kiss back, so hungry for him. Your mind is clouded with lust for a moment before you realize the advantage he is giving you. You never technically conceded.

As swiftly as you can, you wrap your free leg around his waist and use your whole strength to throw him off you, startling him enough to free your hands.

“You bitch.” He groans as you jab him in the stomach to try and give yourself enough time to grab your sword but it doesn’t work. He grabs you by the ankle and yanks hard. You slam to the ground right on your stomach. He moves to restrain you by sitting on your thighs so you can’t move your legs and holds your hands behind your back. You clearly didn’t consider how inevitably stronger he is than you.

“Shit.” You whine. His hold isn’t nearly as gentle this time.

“That was a cheap fucking shot.” He says cruelly. He’s pissed now.

“Fuck you. Castellan!” Gods it goes straight to his dick when you call him by his last name. He grips your hair with his free hand and pulls back hard so you have to look at him. You whine again at the sharp pain.

“You just can’t play fair, can you, princess? Maybe I won’t either then.”

He drops your head and you hear him rustling with something. You realize it’s his belt when you feel the leather against your wrists. He’s binding you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Your voice is full of rage but to him, you just sound petulant.

“What you need.” Is his simple answer.

He shifts down so he sits, or rather kneels, with your legs between his. He’s amused by your renewed writhing as an attempt to escape. It is pitiful really. Oh well, he’ll have you writhing for a different reason soon enough.

His fingertips glide across your waist, to your hips and then to your thighs, causing your back to arch upwards slightly, your stomach dipping. He brings his lips down to your ear, his voice is deep and lustful as he says, “Your body seems to know what it wants.”

“I’ll kill you.” You promise.

“Oh, i’m sure you will. But right now, you fucking belong to me.” He yanks on your hair again so you have to look at him and your eyes water from the pain. “I think you like me hurting you.” His other hand slips between your thighs to rub your clit and you let out a strangled moan. “For a girl who is so controlling, it’s interesting how badly you enjoy me manhandling you.”

He yanks your pants down and slips your helmet under your hips so your ass stays high in the air with your chest to the ground.

“This is fucked up.” You say.

“You love it. Your panties are soaked.” And he’s completely right. You’ve never been so turned on before but not a lot of men are as strong and good-looking as Luke Castellan.

He pulls your panties down and groans at the sight of your dripping pussy. He begins to palm himself through his pants and unzips them. “You have about three seconds to tell me if you don’t actually want this.”

You are silent and he chuckles. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Before you can even prepare yourself or form a thought, his fat cock is shoved inside of you, splitting you open.

“Ah, Luke!” You moan at the pain and pleasure.

“Gods, this is the tightest little pussy i’ve had.” He begins to fuck in and out of you relentlessly, giving you no time to adjust. “Yeah, you’re good for me now, baby. Such a good little cocksleeve.” He punctuates his last words with hard thrusts, the head of his cock bullying into you each time.

All you can do is repeat his name like a mantra as you get pounded on the forest floor by the strongest swordsman in camp. It’s even worse as he begins to rub your clit again, sending you so close to the edge.

“Never gonna have enough of you after this.” Luke murmurs as he feels you squeezing around him. “My good girl.”

That’s what sends you tumbling over the edge, bringing Luke with you as you do. He never could’ve kept going, not with the way your walls were squeezing around him. He pulls out almost instantly so he can watch his cum spill out of you. He doesn’t wipe it. He just pulls your panties back on and fixes the both of you up. You’re thoroughly spent, he can tell by the way you pant as he releases your wrists.

“You okay?” He asks as he helps you sit up. He grabs your hands so he can kiss the marks on your wrists. After all you’ve done, that’s the act that makes you blush furiously.

“Um, yeah.” You breathe out.

“I’ll be nicer next time, I promise. Somebody just had to put you in your place first.” He grins wolfishly.

“Next time?”

That’s when you hear the horn. The blue team has won again.

He pecks a kiss to your cheek. “Time to claim my kleos.” He says cockily before jogging off to meet his team.

taglist (comment to be added):General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 @watercolorskyy @ophelialaufey @aerangi

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #pjo #pjo x reader #luke castellan smut #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians

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rileyslibrary · 7 months

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A/N: *leans into the microphone* anybody ordered some non-verbal taunting communication, courtesy of the lieutenant?

———————————————————————

You have all gathered in the tent for a quick briefing by the captain. Today’s drill is supposed to begin before dawn, and without the sun to keep you warm, the breeze shamelessly seeps through the tent’s openings. You sit around the table with the rest of the team and wrap your arms around yourself, trying to focus on Price’s orders.

Ghost stands next to the captain, examining each team member from across the table. He stands with his legs spread, holding his hands behind his back. His eyes move slowly, taking in every expression, every posture, and every movement.

You scan him from his head down to his waist. He’s in full gear all the damn time; mask, scarf, uniform, jacket, tactical vest. Sometimes, you wonder if he sleeps with everything on so that he can be ready to go. Perhaps he hangs his clothes on a chair the night before and puts them on one by one in the morning. If that’s the case, it must take him forever to get ready. You wonder if it’s the layering that makes him look so big or if he’s naturally built that way.

You try to suppress the image of your lieutenant naked and redirect your attention to the captain’s briefing. You look at Price, who is pointing at something on the map, and notice Ghost staring at you from the corner of your eye. His eyes move slowly, from your face down to your arms, and he narrows his eyes at the sight. He unclasps his hands from behind his back, brings them to the front and wraps them around himself, mimicking your stance. He looks back up at you, tilts his head and raises one of his eyebrows.

You immediately drop your arms to your sides and mouth an apology at him. He shakes his head at you and returns to his original position with his hands behind his back. He closes his eyes, and when he opens them again, they are already fixed on the person sitting next to you.

Price continues the briefing, and you try to absorb the information while battling the chill that creeps through your uniform. You struggle to keep your arms to your sides but, your efforts go in vain since you shiver whenever the wind blows in the tent.

The lieutenant, on the other hand, doesn’t let you off that easy. He picks up on every move you make like a fucking sensor. Your shoulders hunch forward, and he throws quick glimpses at you, signalling you to sit up straight. Sometimes, you place your hands in your pockets, and he widens his eyes at the sight, forcing you to put them back on the table. You absentmindedly slip your hands under your thighs one last time, and you see him taking a few steps back and beginning to walk around the table.

You stiffen up. As if the cold morning breeze wasn’t persecuting enough, now you have another—much worse—threat to fear. You follow Ghost with your peripheral vision while trying to focus on Price, but he disappears behind you.

You hear him fiddling with something—the soldiers across from you throw peeks above your head and then at each other. You try to pick up on their expressions. Unfortunately, you aren’t as good at decoding faces as he is.

There’s a hand brushing your chair, tucking something on its backrest. The same gloved hand nudges your shoulder once and points at the back.

You look over your shoulder.

It’s a cloth. You turn your upper body and take a closer look.

It’s a scarf; his scarf.

You turn to look at him, and he gestures for you to drape it over your shoulders as he walks back to the captain. You obey and lift it from the chair. It’s still warm to the touch. You throw it on your shoulders and wrap it tighter around yourself. His residual body heat is still trapped in the garment. It feels like a hug, and you fight the urge to bury your nose in and smell it. You forget the morning breeze, the upcoming drill, and his non-verbal taunting.

Because the morning breeze was there yesterday, and it will be here tomorrow. It is you who pitched a tent in its path.

Because the upcoming drill will eventually end, and you will get to rest. You just need to endure it first.

Because it wasn’t taunting on his part; it was his way of showing concern. And a teeny tiny bit of care.

You turn around and see Ghost taking back his position next to the captain. He doesn’t look at you again for the rest of the briefing. You wish he would. His scarf looks great on you.

———————————————————————

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x gn!reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x y/n #simon riley x you #simon riley x y/n #simon riley #call of duty #modern warfare 2 #cod ghost #cod mwii #simon riley x reader #simon riley x gn reader #simon riley fluff #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon ghost riley fic

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breadbrobin · 4 months

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the trees

clarisse la rue x reader — percy jackson and the olympians

[fem!daughter of apollo reader]

summary: you have a very specific skill set that helps your team with capture the flag, and clarisse thinks it’s fascinating. in fact, she thinks you’re as fascinating as you think she is.

warnings: swearing, arguments, fighting, PINING, heights i guess (reader is up a tree), possibly ooc clarisse but not too much i hope.

word count: 2.5k

(so the brainrot has (inevitably) spread to clarisse. there’s gonna be a part two to this as well, so lmk if y’all want it (tbh i’ll probably post it anyway but still). oh and also i love her and i am a clarisse apologist and lover until the day i die)

(sort-of-enemies to sort-of-lovers, but more like idiots to pining idiots (in a tree))

(part 2 here)

———————————————

archery wasn’t the only thing you were good at, but it was by far the best thing you were good at. a daughter of apollo: master of archery, mediocre of music and magical at making weird ass noises. bird calls, animal sounds, imitations—you name it, you could do it.

and those were useful tactics in capture the flag, for sure.

annabeth chase was a master strategist, and you had to give it to her: she remembered everyone’s strengths, weaknesses and alliances while you couldn’t even remember what you’d had for breakfast that day.

as always, you were tucked up in a tree, around halfway up. you weren’t too high, so that you could speak and people wouldn’t automatically know you were above them, but you weren’t too low so they couldn’t see you.

you kind of liked being in the trees now. after three years of capture the flag and around six months of freaking out every time you climbed above ten feet, you were finally used to it. it was almost calming; a way for you to relax after a stressful day and pretend that nothing around you existed.

until the red team came by, that is.

that’s what you were waiting for. the flag was around fifty feet to your right. your job was to be a lookout and a distraction.

it was your favourite part of the game, getting to trick people and shoot arrows at them when they came too close, allowing the blue team members around the bottom of your tree to pop out and disarm their opponents.

it wasn’t a trick you used every time—not even the ares cabin are that stupid—but when you did use it, you had the time of your life.

there was a snapping branch to your left. you straightened up from where you were leaning against the tree trunk behind you and peered through the leaves. you were perched on a thick bough, hidden by leaves and branches, but able to see enough through them that you could do your job.

you could hear voices, but you couldn’t see anyone.

you listened carefully. you knew that voice.

you realised with a start who it was.

clarisse la rue.

fucking clarisse, man. she drove you insane. and not for the reason she drove most of camp insane. no, unlike almost everyone else, you were attracted to her. in fact, you were, annoyingly, in love with her, you’d have to admit. it was infuriating.

you could hear her cutting through the forest. it was strange. she didn’t usually come for the flag. usually, she hunted in the woods and caught stragglers. she didn’t want the glory as much as she wanted the fight. to her, winning the battle seemed more important than winning the war.

regardless of why, you could hear her voice. she was talking to her siblings below you, creeping through the foliage.

the sun was warm on your face and you send up a brief prayer to your father.

from your lips slipped an almost perfect impression of your blue team guards. you’d used this trick last game, but clarisse hadn’t been there, so she wouldn’t know. “i can’t believe they put us on guard duty again.”

they all froze in their tracks, looking at each other, then ahead in the opposite direction from the flag.

you held in a snicker. “ugh, yeah, it’s the worst. i mean, why can’t we do anything fun? i wanna fight clarisse!”

you could see the smirk curling on her lips and you had to stop yourself from blushing.

you continued this cat and mouse game. the ares kids below you fanned out, aiming to surround you. it would have been a smart move, if there was actually a flag there and not just a tree.

slowly, they inched in, then leapt out.

“ahh!! you caught us! i’ve been impaled!”

they looked around in fear and confusion but clarisse looked straight up. she always did.

“hey, angel, nice voice,” she mocked. “wanna come on down?”

you shook your head. “no, thanks, i’m comfortable.”

she raised and eyebrow, seeing your arrow drawn and pointed directly at her. “that’s not necessary.”

“isn’t it?” your arrow flew and, though she hit it away, you teammates came pouring out of the foliage, having been waiting for your signal.

a fight ensued. it looked like it was going well for a short while, then the tides turned.

they weren’t as caught off guard as they usually were. hell, clarisse was even smiling!

with what looked like very little effort, the ares campers effectively destroyed your teammates. they were left disarmed and defeated, and you were stuck in a tree. typical.

as her siblings took their weapons, clarisse looked up at you. “you wanna come down now?”

you shook your head. “rather not. the view from up here is pretty good.”

she muttered something to herself, but you couldn’t hear her. then she spoke up. “what if we come up there?”

you drew your bow back immediately and an arrow pierced the dirt right in front of her foot.

she looked down at it, then back up at you, an amused smirk on her face. “right, silly me.”

that surprised you. she was usually cold and cruel in capture the flag, always taking no prisoners and leaving no survivors—in a technical sense. you’d seen people nursing their minor wounds after the games when your siblings forced you to help out in the infirmary (not that you’re much help in there, but regardless), and everyone heard the stories they’d tell of clarisse appearing out of the ferns and attacking ruthlessly. so why was she not being so ruthless today?

she was certainly cruel in her fight against your team members, but any other day, she would have thrown her spear at you or thrown one of your arrows back, or even climbed up anyway. instead, she just smirked up at you, content to wait.

“where’s the flag, bows?” she asked, using a nickname she’d only used a few times, one that referenced both the bows you used and the bows you sometimes put in your hair.

you shrugged. “dunno. they don’t tell me anything. i just get out here and told to be annoying.” your traitorous eyes flickered to the direction of the flag. you’d never been good at lying.

and curse her, clarisse noticed. she always noticed when it came to you, it seemed. whether it was catching you in a lie, catching you when you were admiring her or catching your every move when sparring, she always noticed.

she nodded at her siblings and they moved off. “i’ll wait here. try and flush our squirrel out.”

if they were confused or surprised, they didn’t show it.

once they were gone, clarisse plucked the arrow from the dirt and studied it. “this is new.”

“sam from hephaestus made them,” you said meekly. why would she stay behind? it didn’t make sense. you weren’t a threat, or even a good fight.

her face darkened. “oh. and where is your boyfriend now, then? hm?”

your cheeks flamed. “he’s not my boyfriend.” and it was true. he wasn’t. despite the fact that he liked you and made things for you all the time, your heart was decidedly with another. and she was right below you, tossing your prized arrow aside like an old tissue. “he’s on your team anyway. you should know where he is.”

she smirked again. “oh, yeah. i remember now. that’s right, i sent him to try and get our flag. he didn’t even make it five steps before he was attacked.”

her bitter laugh made your heart clench. was it pity for sam or your feelings for her, or both? you weren’t sure. either way, it was starting to get on your nerves.

it was silent for a long time. she looked up at you every few seconds, then at the tree, like she was gauging how hard she’d have to push you for you to die on impact. her eyes were sharp and her smile was sharper, and fuck you were attracted to her.

you cleared your throat and broke the silence, hearing fighting off in the near distance. you would go and help, but the only way for you to do so would be to tree-hop all the way to the flag, and while you could do it, it wasn’t the best idea. “why did you stay h—what are you doing?” you aimed an arrow at her.

“relax, angel, we both know you won’t actually shoot me.” she was climbing up the tree. fast. “and don’t worry, i’m not gonna push you out or attack you. i don’t like looking up at you.”

call you stupid or whipped or whatever, but you believed her. you lowered your bow but didn’t lessen the tension on your string. she’d almost reached your branch when you swivelled around to face her. you moved fast, your arrow returning to its holster and you body facing the trunk of the tree with your legs swung over each side of the wide bough. your dagger was swiftly removed from its holster and pressed under clarisse’s chin.

she laughed at you.

you faltered slightly. “what?”

“nothing,” she snickered. “i just saw it coming. now scoot back.”

you dropped your dagger and shifted backwards, glad the bough was strong.

she clambered onto your branch easily, sitting facing you with her back against the tree trunk, a smirk on her face.

you sighed bitterly. “you see everything coming.”

she shrugged. “pretty much. but so do you.”

“that’s the gift of divine premonition,” you grumbled. it could be useful sometimes, but all you really got was a sense, a feeling or, occasionally, a single frame of a moment. right now, though, your senses were so clogged with her vanilla-strawberry and leather scent, and with her, that you could hardly think, let alone experience a minor prophecy. not to mention the fact that if you did, you’d probably fall out of the tree.

she shrugged. “isn’t that useful?”

“yeah, when it actually works or doesn’t make me pass out.” you shrugged. “it’s temperamental.”

she hummed in thought, leaning back and crossing her arms. her knees were mere centimetres from yours.

“what are you doing up here, clarisse?” you asked.

she shrugged, but you could see a shift in her demeanour when she said your name. it was like the muscles in her shoulders relaxed for a moment, then tensed again. “didn’t want you to escape.”

“so you let your other prisoners escape?” you gestured to the ground, where your teammates were sitting around fifteen feet from the tree in a circle, plucking the grass.

clarisse raised her eyebrows at you in amusement. “oh, i think they’re fine. they’re too scared of me to do anything, anyway.”

you narrowed your eyes at her. “i don’t think you’re that scary.”

she rolled her eyes. “sure. but everyone else does. so you’re wrong.”

“it was my opinion. my opinion can’t be wrong if it’s my opinion.” that was another thing: you were never one to start an argument, but by god would you escalate it.

“your opinions wrong if i say it’s wrong,” she huffed, her jaw tight.

“not how opinions work, babe,” you said lightly, using your dagger point to carve away at the bark beneath you.

she smacked your hand to stop you. “you’re gonna dull it!”

“the point is already dull!” you protested, poking your finger to show her. it indented, but didn’t draw blood. “see?”

“so, what, you threatened me with a butter knife? i’m offended.”

“it’s the idea of it that cuts deeper anyway. the primal fear of being gutted by a dagger. in capture the flag at least.” you shrugged, carving a wonky flower in the bark. “it’s more about threats than action.”

clarisse rolled her eyes. “and what if a monster comes and attacks you, and all you’ve got is this blunt dagger?”

“you ever seen an archers muscles?” you turned slightly and flexed your shoulders. you could see her eyes follow the sharp lines of your shoulders and back. “i’ll use force. force is more effective than sharpness. you know that.”

“and yet, my weapons are all still sharp.” she snatched the dagger from you and pulled out a whetstone from a pocket in her cargo pants. she began sharpening your blade.

“hey, don’t—“

she smacked your hand with the flat of your own blade when you reached for it, and you withdrawn with a hiss, shaking your hand. she laughed. “i guess force is more important, huh, angel?”

your cheeks were hot. “don’t call me that.”

“why, you worried you might like it?” she looked up, teasing. her eyes narrowed at the look on your face and then she grinned. “you do like it.”

“no. shut up.”

she laughed again, but it was a little softer than usual. she looked back down at the dagger. “did sam make this for you?”

“yeah, w—clarisse!” you gasped as she dropped it off the bough. or, more accurately, threw it off the bough. “what was that for?”

she shrugged. “it’s not that good. i’ll get you a better one from the ares stash. don’t worry.”

you glared at her. “that was mine, though!”

“it was blunt and poorly made,” she protested. “it wasn’t good enough for you.”

the way she said it made you think there was a double meaning there.

“he’s not good enough for you,” she said, softer, proving you right.

your eyes were wide and your cheeks were flaming. “what?”

“you heard me.” her softness was staying, it seemed. if you weren’t mistaken, her hand was reaching for yours. “he’s not. you know he’s not. why do you like him?”

before you could respond, a horn blew in the distance and cheering erupted from around the forest. red team had won.

clarisse didn’t look happy. she leaned back—you hadn’t even realised she’d leaned forward—and glared at the bough between you both.

“congratulations,” you said softly. “you deserved the win.”

“yeah, we did.” her voice carried very little enthusiasm.

you studied her face for a minute, like you were committing every feature to memory. “clarisse…”

she didn’t respond. instead, she swung her leg over the bough and started climbing down. only when she got two branches down did you begin to follow her, hurrying in your attempt to catch up. you couldn’t. no matter how good you were at something, she was better.

she nodded at you as she walked off, your foot caught in a tight spot.

once you’d finally got down, your teammates were surrounding you. some asked you what had happened, some accused you of being a double agent for them, some asked if you were okay.

you answered them all absently as you all walked back towards the stream, but your heart wasn’t in it. what the hell was going on?

you’d reached the stream by the time you realised you’d left your dagger behind, and you were back at your cabin, trying to fall asleep, when you realised that it didn’t bother you at all.

(part 2)

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse la rue x you #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #clarisse pjo #clarisse x reader #dior goodjohn #pjo #pjo x reader #pjo tv show

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lila-lou · 14 days

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✨ His only exception - Pt. 20/? ✨

Summary: 12 months ago, Butcher went above and beyond to have you join his team. You had a simple office job at Supe Affairs. The same thing every day, working from 9 to 5 and watching Butcher and his team defeat one renegade after another. One evening, however, something changed.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: Language, angst, hurt

Word Count: 4728

A/N: This is part 20 of “His only exeption”.

English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

The next few hours were a blur as you remained glued to the laptop screen, your eyes scanning the live feed from Vought's cameras. With Frenchie on the earpiece, you guided the team through the building, directing them to the best possible routes and warning them of any potential threats.

As they made their way through the corridors, leaving a trail of chaos and destruction in their wake, you couldn't help but feel a sense of unease gnawing at the pit of your stomach. The guards they encountered didn't back down easily, and the resulting skirmishes left a grim reminder of the danger they faced.

Despite the violence unfolding before your eyes, you remained focused on the task at hand, doing everything in your power to ensure the team's safety and success. With each passing moment, the stakes grew higher.

Despite the team's best efforts, it became increasingly clear that Homelander wouldn't be served on a silver platter. Vought was prepared for nearly every contingency, making it incredibly difficult for the team to advance.

As the battle raged on, the odds seemed to stack higher against them with each passing moment. The guards were relentless, their firepower and tactics proving formidable obstacles to overcome.

In the midst of the chaos, MM was the first to go down, struck by a barrage of gunfire. His body crumpled to the ground, wounded badly as blood pooled around him. Kimiko acted quickly, dragging him out of harm's way and ushering him towards the safety of their van waiting outside.

After a tense struggle, the team encountered A-Train, who was already waiting for them, ready to join the fight against Homelander. His presence provided a much-needed boost to their morale, and with his help, they pressed on, determined to overcome the obstacles in their path.

Despite A-Train's assistance, Soldier Boy proved to be the standout performer. With an almost effortless grace, he dispatched the guards one by one, moving through the chaos with a precision and skill that left you in awe. It was as if he was born for this moment, his every move calculated and deliberate, his determination unwavering.

In that moment, you couldn't help but feel a surge of pride knowing that he was kinda fighting for you. Despite the trials and tribulations that had tested your relationship, there was no denying the strength and courage that lay within him.

The minutes stretched into what felt like an eternity as the team fought their way through the building, inching closer and closer to their target. Finally, they reached the top floor, the anticipation mounting with each step.

With bated breath, they pushed open the door to Homelander's room, ready to confront their greatest adversary. But just as they stepped inside, the door to your apartment swung open, revealing Homelander standing in the doorway, a smug grin plastered across his face.

The sight of him sent a chill down your spine, his presence looming over you like a dark cloud. His shit-eating grin only served to fuel the fire of anger burning within you.

"Fuck", you muttered under your breath.

Frenchie's voice crackled over the earpiece, his tone laced with concern. "What's going on?", he asked, the urgency in his voice reflecting the gravity of the situation.

Ben's head snapped towards frenchie at the sound of your voice, his eyes narrowing in focus.

"He's in the apartment", you both said in unison, your voices cold and devoid of emotion.

As Frenchie's voice echoed through the earpiece, his urgency palpable, you knew there was no time to waste. "Run!", he yelled, his words a desperate plea for you to escape.

But deep down, you knew there was no outrunning Homelander. With the team already on their way back, you felt a sense of dread wash over you as you realized there was nowhere to hide.

Just as the realization set in, you felt a presence behind you, a cold chill creeping up your spine. Turning slowly, your worst fears were confirmed as you came face to face with Homelander.

He wore a sinister grin, his eyes glinting with malice as he took a step closer. "Looks like we're going for a little walk", he sneered, his grip on your upper arm tightening with a force that threatened to crush your bones.

Panic surged through you as you struggled against his iron grip, but it was futile. With Homelander in control, you knew there was no escape. All you could do was brace yourself for whatever horrors awaited you on this twisted journey with the most dangerous man alive.

As Homelander dragged you along, his grip unyielding, he chuckled darkly, the sound sending chills down your spine. "I knew sooner or later that piece of shit team would come for me", he remarked, his voice dripping with disdain. "And they left you behind, didn't they? To keep you safe. What irony".

The team's mission to take down Homelander had inadvertently led to your capture, leaving you vulnerable and at the mercy of the very person they were trying to defeat.

You gritted your teeth, fury boiling within you as you struggled against his grasp. But Homelander merely chuckled in response, his grip tightening even further as he led you away.

As Homelander dragged you through the woods, your heart pounded with fear and uncertainty. He pushed you to the ground roughly, causing you to wince as pain shot through your body.

"What's your plan with me?", you snapped, your voice tinged with defiance as you struggled to maintain your composure. Rubbing your aching arm, you glared up at him, desperate for answers.

Homelander laughed. "Right now, I don't care about you", he sneered. "All I want is my showdown, once and for all. I'm going to kill all of these amateurs, and especially that pathetic excuse for a hero, Soldier Boy".

As Homelander squatted down in front of you, his gaze bore into yours with an intensity that made your blood run cold. "Right now, you're just my little decoy", he said. "But after I've dealt with every last one of your little friends, I've already got a nice, cozy place for you in the lab".

His words sent a shiver down your spine as the gravity of the situation sank in. You were nothing more than a pawn in Homelander's twisted game, a means to an end in his quest for domination. The thought of being imprisoned again, in some cold, sterile lab filled you with dread.

Summoning every ounce of strength and determination, you grabbed a rock beside you, desperation lending you a newfound resolve. With a primal scream, you launched yourself at Homelander, wielding the rock like a weapon as you aimed for his face.

The impact was swift and brutal, the rock connecting with Homelander’s jaw with a sickening crunch. For a fleeting moment, you dared to hope that you had gained the upper hand, that you might have a chance at escaping his grasp.

But your victory was short-lived as Homelander reacted with lightning-fast reflexes, throwing you off of him with a powerful shove. The force of his blow sent you hurtling towards the nearest tree, the world spinning as pain exploded through your body.

With a sickening thud, you collided with the tree, the impact knocking the breath from your lungs and sending darkness swirling at the edges of your vision. In the haze of unconsciousness, you dimly registered the sound of footsteps approaching, and then everything went black.

Just moments later, Ben and the rest of the team arrived, guided by the GPS signal from your phone.

As Ben heard the familiar rhythm of your heartbeat, his eyes narrowed with determination. "Frenchie, look after her", he barked, his voice filled with urgency as he strode purposefully towards Homelander.

With every step, Ben's resolve hardened, his fists clenched at his sides as he squared off against his formidable opponent. "You're gonna die", he growled, his voice low and menacing as he met Homelander's gaze head-on.

Homelander chuckled, a deranged glint in his eyes as he spoke like a madman. "No one can beat me", he ranted, his voice laced with arrogance and delusion. "I'm invincible. I'm a god among men".

But Ben remained undeterred, his jaw set with steely resolve. It was time to put an end to Homelander's reign of terror once and for all.

The rest of the team surged forward, a united front against the unstoppable force that was Homelander. But their efforts proved futile as one by one, they were brutally swatted aside like mere flies.

Annie lunged forward with her powers blazing, but Homelander effortlessly deflected her attacks, sending her crashing into the ground with a resounding thud. Frenchie and Butcher charged in next, armed to the teeth with weapons, but their efforts were swiftly thwarted as Homelander effortlessly brushed them aside, their bodies sent flying through the air with bone-crunching force.

Even A-Train, with his super speed, proved no match for Homelander's raw power. With a vicious swipe of his hand, Homelander sent A-Train hurtling backwards, his body skidding across the ground in a tangled mess of limbs.

Despite their best efforts, the team was no match for the sheer might of Homelander. With each devastating blow, their resolve faltered, their hope dwindling with every passing moment.

But as Soldier Boy and Homelander finally clashed, the air crackled with energy, their blows echoing through the battlefield with force. Each punch was met with a counterattack, neither willing to back down in the face of their opponent's fury.

Soldier Boy's combat skills were honed to perfection, his movements fluid and precise as he met Homelander blow for blow. With each strike, he channeled every ounce of strength and determination, refusing to yield to the overwhelming power of his adversary.

Homelander, for his part, fought with a ferocity that bordered on madness. His punches were like thunderbolts, each one delivered with the force of a freight train. But despite his raw power, Soldier Boy held his ground, his resilience matched only by his unwavering determination.

For what felt like an eternity, the two clashed, their battle raging on with no end in sight. Each exchange was a test of strength and skill, a testament to the unyielding resolve of both combatants.

In the midst of the chaos, it became clear that this was no ordinary fight. It was a clash of titans, a battle for supremacy that would determine the fate of the world. And as Soldier Boy and Homelander fought on, their struggle reached a fever pitch, each one pushing themselves to their absolute limits in a bid for victory.

As Starlight, Butcher, A-Train, and Hughie managed to pin Homelander down, the tension in the air was palpable. Every second felt like an eternity as they struggled to keep the formidable Supe restrained. Meanwhile, Frenchie rushed back to the apartment, cradling your unconscious body in his arms, desperate to get you to safety.

Soldier Boy's chest began to glow with an otherworldly light, a sign that he was reaching his breaking point. The nervous energy in the air grew thicker with each passing moment, the anticipation of what was to come almost unbearable.

But then, in a moment of sheer determination, Soldier Boy threw himself at Homelander with all the force he could muster. With a deafening roar, he unleashed his power, the energy within him erupting in a blinding flash of light.

In the chaos that followed, everyone else scrambled for their lives, knowing that they had only seconds to escape. And then, just as Soldier Boy collided with Homelander, the explosion consumed them both in a fiery inferno of destruction.

As the dust settled and the smoke cleared, the echoes of the explosion ringing in the air.

After a while, Soldier Boy began to regain consciousness, the world around him swam in a haze of confusion and pain. Before he could fully comprehend what was happening, Butcher, Hughie, and Annie were upon him, their faces twisted with determination.

In his weakened state, Soldier Boy struggled to defend himself against their onslaught. Annie and Hughie held him firmly in place, their strength amplified by the urgency of the situation. Butcher wasted no time, swiftly placing a mask containing Novichok gas over Soldier Boy's face.

Despite his best efforts to resist, Soldier Boy found himself succumbing to the effects of the deadly gas. His vision blurred, his muscles weakened, and his consciousness faded into darkness once more.

As the last vestiges of his strength slipped away, Soldier Boy was overwhelmed by a sense of defeat. In his final moments of consciousness, he could only watch helplessly as his `Teammates´ closed in. Again.

The heavy breathing of the team echoed in the air, a testament to the intensity of the situation. Butcher wasted no time, his voice steady despite the urgency of the moment.

"Annie, Hughie, get Soldier Boy to the airport of Supe Affairs. There's a plane waiting there", Butcher commanded, his tone leaving no room for hesitation.

Annie and Hughie nodded in unison, their resolve unwavering as they prepared to move Soldier Boy. With determined strides, they hoisted his limp form between them, their muscles straining under the weight as they set off to carry out their task.

Turning to A-Train, Butcher's gaze hardened. "You're with me. We're taking Homelander to the Headquarter of Supe Affairs", he declared, his voice firm and commanding.

A-Train nodded, understanding the gravity of their mission. Together, they moved to secure Homelander, their determination to prevent his escape unwavering even in the face of his unconscious state.

With each member of the team assigned their roles, they set out to execute their plan with precision and determination, knowing that the fate of the world hung in the balance.

As the late evening light filtered through the windows, casting a warm glow over the room, you slowly began to regain consciousness. Blinking away the haze of unconsciousness, you found Frenchie sitting beside you on the couch, his expression one of relief mixed with concern.

Groaning softly, you shifted in your seat, the ache in your body a constant reminder of the ordeal you had just endured. As you opened your eyes, you met Frenchie's gaze, offering him a weak smile of gratitude.

"Hey there", Frenchie said softly, his voice filled with warmth. "Glad to see you're awake. How are you feeling?".

With a slight wince, you replied, "Sore, but I I'll survive. What happened?".

Frenchie's expression grew somber as he recounted the events of the past few hours, detailing the harrowing battle against Homelander and the frantic rush to get you to safety.

Listening intently, you couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude towards Frenchie and the rest of the team for their bravery and quick thinking.

And despite everything that had happened, despite the anger you felt towards Ben, pretty much your only thought was how he was doing. So you asked Frenchie where Ben was.

"He… He left, (y/n)", Frenchie lied.

As you processed Frenchie's words, a heavy weight settled in the pit of your stomach, crushing your world with a sense of loss and disappointment. The news of Ben's departure struck you like a blow, leaving you reeling with a mixture of hurt and resignation.

"He left?", you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Frenchie nodded, his expression reflecting the weight of the situation. "Yeah, he said he didn't see any reason to stay now that Homelander is neutralized", he explained, his voice tinged with regret.

A wave of sadness washed over you as you absorbed Frenchie's words. It was as if the ground had shifted beneath your feet, leaving you adrift in a sea of uncertainty and heartache.

Frenchie's sympathetic gaze met yours, his eyes filled with understanding and compassion. "I'm sorry", he murmured softly, his words a gentle acknowledgment of the pain you were feeling.

But no amount of sympathy could ease the ache in your heart as you grappled with the abrupt end to your relationship with Ben.

Your voice shivered slightly as you mumbled, "I… I think I'm gonna go take a shower". The weight of your emotions threatened to overwhelm you.

Frenchie nodded in understanding, his expression filled with empathy. "Take your time", he said softly, his words a silent reassurance that he would be there for you when you needed him.

With a heavy heart, you pushed yourself off the couch and made your way to the bathroom, seeking solace in the comforting embrace of the warm water. As you stepped into the shower, tears welled up in your eyes, threatening to spill over as the reality of Ben's departure washed over you in waves of sorrow and regret.

In that moment, nothing else mattered. The chaos of the world outside faded into insignificance as the overwhelming sense of abandonment consumed you. The thought of Ben leaving, of him deeming you unworthy of his presence, echoed in your mind like a haunting refrain.

You didn't care about Homelander or the fate of the others. All you could think about was Ben. How could he just walk away, leaving you.

As the water washed away the tears streaming down your face, you felt a profound sense of emptiness wash over you. In that moment, you were alone.

As the days passed, your initial sorrow gave way to simmering anger. How dare Ben walk away without so much as a word? How could he ignore your calls and messages, leaving you to stew in a pool of unanswered questions and unresolved emotions?

Fueled by frustration and a burning need for closure, you dialed Ben's number repeatedly, each call met with the cold indifference of silence. You left voicemails and sent messages, pouring out your heart in a desperate attempt to reach him, but each attempt fell on deaf ears.

As time wore on, the messages went undelivered, your words lost in the void of digital silence. The realization that Ben had chosen to cut you out of his life without a second thought only fueled the flames of your anger, driving you to new heights of resentment and indignation.

But beneath the anger lurked a deep-seated hurt, a nagging ache that refused to be silenced. Despite your best efforts to bury it beneath a veneer of rage, the pain of Ben's betrayal continued to gnaw at your heart, leaving behind a bitter taste of betrayal and disappointment.

Three weeks had elapsed since the tumultuous events that rocked your world. MM's recovery had progressed steadily, bringing a sense of relief to everyone involved. With Homelander neutralized and held captive at Supe Affairs, a semblance of peace had returned, albeit tinged with the echoes of past trauma.

As you stood before Ben's room, a mix of apprehension and determination filled your heart. Today marked the day that Butcher intended to clear out Ben's belongings, erasing all traces of his presence from your lives. Before everything was discarded, you felt compelled to sift through his possessions one last time, searching for closure amidst the remnants of what once was.

With a heavy heart, you entered the room, the air thick with memories.

As you moved through the room, memories flooded your mind with every item you touched. Ben's belongings, though few in number, held a weight of significance that was undeniable. You carefully selected one of his hoodies.

Amongst the scattered mementos, you found a small stack of photographs, capturing moments from Ben's childhood. Each image offered a glimpse into his past, revealing layers of his personality that you had yet to explore. With a tender smile, you tucked the photographs in your jeans.

Finally, your gaze fell upon his favorite lighter.

With your chosen keepsakes in hand, you made your way out of the room.

As you flipped through the stack of photographs, back in your room, your eyes widened in surprise when you stumbled upon one that featured you. In the image, you were sleeping peacefully in Ben's bed, bathed in the soft glow of morning light, with his sheets draped loosely over your form.

Raising an eyebrow, you couldn't help but feel a pang of curiosity at the sight. It was a candid moment captured in time, one that showcased a side of Ben you hadn't expected to see. Despite his rough exterior, there was a tender, romantic quality to the photograph that took you by surprise.

"Mighty romantic of you, Ben", you mumbled to yourself, a wistful smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Despite his protests and claims of being anything but sentimental, the evidence before you painted a different picture. You lingered on the image, your heart ached with a mixture of longing and regret.

As another month slipped by, the absence of Ben weighed heavily on your heart. Eight weeks had passed since he walked out of your life, leaving behind an unfillable void. Despite the ache of his absence, you knew that life had to move forward.

In an attempt to distract yourself from the pain, you threw yourself into your work, immersing yourself in new projects and challenges.

It had been four weeks since you started working at Vought, and while you had hoped that this new job would provide you with some leads on Ben's whereabouts, your search had yielded no results thus far. Annie's prominent position within the company, with the support of A-Train, had facilitated your employment.

As you threw yourself into your work at Vought, hoping to find some semblance of closure or perhaps even a clue about Ben's whereabouts, you found yourself caught off guard by a coworker's persistent advances. From your very first day on the job, he had been flirting with you shamelessly, his charm and charisma impossible to ignore.

Despite your best efforts to focus on your tasks, his attention was a welcome distraction from the ache of Ben’s absence. With each playful exchange and lingering glance, you found yourself drawn to this new person, his presence offering a glimmer of solace amidst the uncertainty of your heartache.

As the clock struck noon on a Friday, the familiar sound of a knock interrupted the quiet hum of your office. You glanced up to see Jay, your coworker and so-called boyfriend, standing at the doorway with a hopeful smile on his face.

"Hey there", Jay greeted you warmly, his eyes lighting up as he took in your presence. "I thought I'd swing by and see if you'd like to grab some lunch before heading back to my place. What do you say?".

You hesitated for a moment, but as you looked into Jay's eyes, a flicker of warmth and affection tugged at your heartstrings.

With a soft smile, you nodded in agreement. "Sure", you replied, the corners of your lips quirking up in anticipation.

As you settled into his car, Jay turned to you with a gentle smile. "I was thinking", he began, his voice soft and reassuring, "maybe we could watch a movie tonight. And if you're up for it, we could have some… well… romantic time together". Jay's hand found its way to your thigh.

You felt a pang of guilt as Jay voiced his desires. After four months of Ben's absence and eight weeks of dating Jay, you hadn't yet taken that next step in your relationship. The truth was, you still weren't ready to fully open yourself up to someone new, not when your heart still carried the weight of unresolved feelings for Ben.

"It sounds nice", you replied, forcing a smile despite the turmoil swirling within you. "I'm just not sure if I'm ready for that yet".

Jay's expression softened with understanding, his hand squeezing yours in a reassuring gesture. "That's okay", he said gently, his gaze meeting yours with unwavering warmth. "Whenever you're ready".

As the day progressed, you found yourself nestled in Jay's arms, the soft glow of the TV casting a warm ambiance around you. The movie played in the background, but your thoughts were elsewhere, drifting back to memories of Ben. Again.

Jay was handsome, kind, smart, caring and came from a wealthy family—everything you could ask for in a partner. Yet, despite his many qualities, every touch, every kiss, every whispered word from him only served to remind you of the void left by Ben's absence.

With Jay's arm wrapped around you, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your arm, you couldn't help but long for the familiar touch of Ben, for the comfort and security you found in his embrace. As much as you tried to push aside thoughts of him, he remained a constant presence in your heart and mind, a ghost haunting every moment you shared with Jay.

Despite Jay's genuine affection and the comfort he offered, you couldn't shake the ache of longing for someone who was no longer there.

As the movie played on, Jay leaned down, his hand gently tilting your chin to meet his gaze. His eyes held a warmth and tenderness that made your heart ache in a way you couldn't quite explain.

"You look stunning today", he whispered softly, his voice laced with sincerity as he brushed a stray strand of hair from your face.

Before you could respond, his lips captured yours in a gentle kiss, his touch tender and affectionate.

As the kiss deepened, Jay's touch grew more urgent, his hands trailing up your hipbone beneath your shirt. You could feel the warmth of his touch searing through your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

His lips moved with a newfound intensity, his desire evident in the way he pressed his body against yours. You could feel the undeniable hardness of his cock against your thigh, the physical manifestation of his arousal.

Despite the warmth of his embrace and the passion in his kiss, a part of you couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness that lingered within you.

Feeling Jay's weight pressing down on you, you couldn't suppress the feeling of discomfort that surged within you. As he began to kiss your neck, you gently pushed against his chest, creating a small barrier between you.

"I can't", you whispered softly, the words catching in your throat as you struggled to articulate the turmoil raging within you.

Jay's expression shifted, a hint of disappointment and hurt flickering across his features as he pulled back slightly. "What is it?", he asked, his voice tinged with confusion. "Why don't you want to sleep with me?".

"I just… I can't", you mumbled, your voice barely audible as you struggled to find the right words.

Crawling away from him, you stood up and made your way to the bathroom, the weight of your decision heavy on your shoulders. As you gazed at your reflection in the mirror, a wave of longing washed over you, your thoughts drifting back to Ben. Again. His words echoed in your mind, a painful reminder of the promise he had made to you. His vow not to touch you again if someone else ever laid a hand on you.

"Hey, are you okay in there?", Jay's voice called through the door, laced with concern.

You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself before responding. "Yeah, I'm fine", you replied, your voice wavering slightly. "Just need a moment".

There was a brief pause before Jay spoke again. "Do you want me to come in?", he asked tentatively.

You hesitated, unsure of how to respond. After a moment's consideration, you shook your head, even though he couldn't see you. "No, I'll be out in a minute", you assured him, your voice strained with emotion.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

Part 21

Taglist: @deangirl96, @thatgirljayy, @suckitands33, @deans-spinster-witch@mimaria420@kaz11283@uncle-eggy @jackles010378 @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @meowmeowyoongles @sarahgracej @zemosdarling228 @leila22rogers @mostlymarvelgirl @emily-winchester @blacknoirr @onlyangel-444 @seasonofthenerd @staple-your-mouth @artemys-ackles @selfdestructionandrhum @mystic-mara

#jensen ackles #soldier boy #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x y/n #the boys #billy butcher #a train

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call-me-cheese · 2 months

Note

Yooooo always good to see new writers on here

Could you do some hurt/comfort with Charlie and Vaggie (specifically poly chaggie x reader, but if you don't do that, separate is fine), where the reader is in the fight at the hotel and saves Charlie from Adam (in place of Lucifer), but is seriously injured in the process and sort of lost in the chaos. Then, once the angels retreat and things are calmer, Charlie and Vaggie find reader beaten and bloody, practically on death's door, but hanging on as the two try their best to stabilize the reader

But the reader survives at the end because there needs to be a happy ending to it :(

Charlie x reader x Vaggie

A/n: I had rewatched the final episode for 4 times and I will go and cry about it. But I hope you will like it, here is 916 words(if you are interested in it).

Your spear struck Adam's face with a slashing motion, throwing it away from Charlie. You may not have been perfect with polearms, but the time you spent with the Vaggie definitely made sense, usually without incredible strength, you could easily throw an almost 2-meter man away from your girlfriend. The adrenaline in your blood does its job, completely numbing the pain of the wounds sustained in the battle with the exorcists and allowing you to focus your attention on Charlie's defense. Adam was thrown to the side of the impact, and you turned to Charlie, checking how she was.

"How are you, Charlie? I definitely should have hurried." You turned to her, giving her a hand so she could get up.

"Thank you!" said Charlie as she walked up to you, hugging you tightly, and you gave her a gentle pat on the back to make her loosen her grip.

Somewhere in the background, Adam rises and begins to curse both you and Charlie, and you turn to him, walking slowly towards him, leaving one of your girls behind.

"How dare you, wretched accomplice of heaven, touch our ray of sunshine Charlie?!" -- your spear changes its position with lightning speed, the thin shiny blade of angel steel is very close to his body, yes you are not in the best shape, yes you see that Vaggie also needs help, but compared to Charlie, at least she is an experienced fighter and knows about the tactics of angels, so you're probably better off staying close to Charlie.

"Who are you? How many of you are gathered here? Moreover, why do you care so much about her? Okay, devils, you're going to be a piece of cake, haha!" -- Adam stood up, shaking off his clothes and spreading his wings, ready to take off, while you, seeing this, decide that you need to attack before the moment of takeoff, because there he will have an incredible advantage.

You attacked quickly, but despite this, Adama deflected almost all the blows, your imperfect technique, although easy to guess, a few cuts appeared on his mask and clothes. Suddenly, you heard Charlie trying to shout something at you, and you let Adam take off. Charlie called you in case of Lute that tried to attack you from behind to distract you from Adam, but Charlie and Vaggie teamed up and protected you.

"Thank you, darlings," you quickly thanked them and turned your attention back to Adam.

At least you tried, as Adam had already unleashed his magic on you, literally cutting the entire hotel building in half. And if Charlie has Vaggie to catch and hold her, there was no one for you in particular. That is why it was you who fell into the crack between the buildings.

You were lucky, the beams fell above you, which very successfully saved you from other debris, the adrenaline in your blood stopped working, the pain from the injuries came flooding over you and seemed several times stronger than it really was, there was no strength left to move or at least some signal, so all you could do was lie down and hope. Charlie and Vaggie will definitely find you, it can't be otherwise. Occupied with such thoughts, your brain gradually shuts down.

The next thing you feel is a cool, slightly rough hand, you instantly recognize it as a Vaggie's hand that was touching your neck in search of a pulse. Your eyes open a little and are dazzlingly bright compared to the dark silence your brain was in during the faint, contrasting so strongly that it hurts your eyes. You squint, turning away, trying to shield yourself from the light and the sounds around you.

"Honey, she's awake," says Vaggie beside you, and Charlie's shadow instantly blocks out the light, bringing relaxation to your buzzing head. So you try to open your eyes and look around without still fully regaining consciousness. Charlie hugs you, touching several open wounds, which makes you groan in pain. You want to ask about the situation, about the situation with the angels, but as soon as your lips open, all your senses come back to you, you begin to feel dust and dryness in your mouth, the surface of the ground beneath you, destroyed and not at all pleasant, dried up your blood, mixed with angelic blood and other things that fell on you during the fight and, To be honest, you start to want to feel nothing again.

"Shut up," Charlie and the Vaggie tell you at the same time. They also lift you up and transport you to a more comfortable surface at the same time. It is quite pleasant and the lack of constant tension in your body allows you to faint once again.

The next time you wake up, your body is tightly wrapped in bandages and the sensation of pervasive dust that caused incredible sensory disgust is gone. You're in the shade, lying on something soft. There is no sensation of pain either, it looks like you have been fainting for a relatively long time.

"Veggie, Veggie, come here!" -- Charlie is nowhere to be seen, but you can recognize her voice everywhere. You can also hear Vaggie's voice, but you can't make out what she said, she probably answered Charlie.

They hug you, you're sure Charlie is crying because something wet has touched your cheek. You, too, are glad that at least these two dearest people are alive.

So as I already said I hope that you enjoyed it)

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin charlie #charlie morningstar #vaggie #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vaggie #charlie x reader #charlie x vaggie #vaggie x reader #charlie x reader x vaggie

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ranticore · 3 months

Text

I wanted to keep drawing some pern dragon stuff because I'm now writing a full AU set in weyr but I didn't want to put this stuff on my main blog or patreon due to it being basically for my own reference, though i felt others would like it too! so here is My Take On Dragon Wings By Type...

It's no secret I love drawing bird wings and prefer them a lot over traditional dragon wings. Growing up, I read the pern books featuring cover art of dragonfly-like wings with lots of little translucent panels, which I always loved. So I thought I'd try to nail down some wing shapes & structures by blending those two things i like together. I am aware dragons fly by telekinesis but I prefer a more realistic type of creature design so I will be choosing to ignore that fact. I do not care about strict canon compliance but I do like to keep some of that framework there as well, for fun.

The wing is made up of three main sails, as well as a propatagium sail (in front of the elbow). They are relatively polymorphic and can expand or contract to an extent to change the shape of the wing in response to flight demands, like the wing of an airliner. The trailing edge can expand and the slots between the spars of the 1st wingsail can deepen or become shallower (where those are a feature). The main structural matrix is opaque, while the membranous 'sails' are translucent and let light through like stained glass. These are a bilayer of membrane with air sandwiched between, which forms part of the air sac & respiratory system.

It makes sense for the original engineers of dragons to diversify dragon wing types by colour so that when fighting Thread, there's a dragon for every conceivable aerial job.

[individual descriptions under the cut]

Queens have the longest wings, though the largest bronzes can rival them for surface area. Gold wings are high endurance - a queen can fly further than any other dragon in active level flight, leaving even the swiftest bronzes behind if they can't muster up the energy reserves to catch her. She is an effective flier at all elevations and can pass very low over terrain without issue as well; she is an expert at taking advantage of the ground effect, where extra lift is generated within one half of a wingspan above land. This way, she can pass low below the main wings fighting Thread to catch any stragglers without expending too much energy. However, she is not very agile and may need a bit of a run-up or cliff-edge to get airborne.

Bronzes are suited for command positions during Threadfall, rising highest and maintaining that altitude effortlessly by soaring on thermals. From this vantage point they can easily survey the wings of riders below and make tactical decisions to direct the tide of battle. They have the size and stamina to chase queens, but might find it difficult to keep up on the flat, so they continually select for fitter hatchlings as only the best manage to mate. It takes a very clever and agile bronze to catch a green, if they are so inclined.

Browns are swift, highly agile, and the fastest vertical fliers, ideal for diving through the Thread mass from top to bottom while the other types pass horizontally. During earlier Passes, browns were capable of using their speed to catch queens, but as queen & bronze endurance gradually increased, browns struggle to keep up if they haven't managed to immediately catch their mate in the starting scrum, which is unlikely due to the bulkier bronze dragons being able to shove the browns aside.

Blues are fast on the flat and nicely manoeuvrable, with enough endurance to last a full Threadfall. Good all-rounders with a characteristic vertical take-off, they work best in the horizontal plane in battle but really they can do a little bit of everything. They often beat browns to catch greens, being very precise in flight and almost as manoeuvrable as their green mates.

Greens make up for their low stamina with their extreme manoeuvrability. Their short and elliptical wings let them turn on a dime, hover, and even fly backwards if they are sufficiently skilled. They have the fastest wingbeats, flying with a distinct thrumming sound. Of all the types they are least likely to be hit by a stray Thread, but they tire easily on the flat and have no soaring ability at all, often tapping out midway through battle in favour of replacements. In battle, greens excel at catching odd and skewed clumps of Thread that don't fall as predicted, or ones that are missed by the other riders. Green mating flights are a whole different beast to gold mating flights, where extreme aerial acrobatics are favoured instead of endurance and altitude, and these flights may be over within seconds. You need to be able to withstand a Lot of G-force to be a green rider.

#dragonriders of pern #hi it's me again. this is my sketch dump blog (very new)#pernese dragon #pern

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aroaceleovaldez · 5 months

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I need to see more demigods who bite. Like jason totally feels the need to bite stuff, and leo half-jokingly suggests getting him a chew toy (like a dog). Nico absolutely bites to show affection, (maybe not willy nilly like jason but still) like just randomly biting people he's close with shoulders or hands because he just loves them so much (jason both bite to express affection and stim)

Anyways petition to normalize neurodivergent people who bite as a form of expressing affection or stimming.

oh absolutely. I actually have a tier list of "which of the Argo II crew & co are most likely to bite:"

Jason gnaws on people to show affection. He is extremely "Everything I love belongs in my mouth and everything I hate belongs between my teeth." He mostly stopped doing it for awhile cause of the whole "being trained to be the Perfect Praetor™" and having to mask a lot more, but he picked it up again a bit when he and Reyna became friends cause she didn't care and then more with the Argo II crew. He definitely hoards chewlery. He also definitely bit Krios real bad when they were fighting, if not outright killed him with his teeth.

Nico is a younger sibling. He has no qualms against biting in fights, any fight, but he does associate biting with fights. Jason tries to friendly-bite him one time and Nico just takes it as declaration of war and they end up tussling for like five minutes. After he gets used to Jason though he picks it up a bit too, mostly just chewing on people's hands. Also I 100% hc that when he was in Tartarus he just went full teeth-and-claws mode to survive. Honestly he bites more in regular combat and even training than Jason does, mostly just cause he's not above fighting dirty. If it works, it works. Also I hc he has sharp canines and is small so he might as well.

Frank's third but only on technicality cause shapeshifting. When he's human he's pretty much equal level to everybody else which is "only bites as a last resort."

Everybody else is pretty on-par with each other but Percy is probably just sliiightly more likely to bite not for any particular reason, he just considers it a valid fight tactic in a pinch (unlike Nico, who just considers it a general fight tactic). Also he got the oral stim adhd vibes. He has a lot of chewlery. They're all sea-themed, of course. Thalia is also pretty equal to Percy in terms of "biting as a valid fighting tactic."

Annabeth is also like. She's less likely to bite than Percy but more likely to than the rest of the crew. It's just a valid battle tactic under certain scenarios to her (and that includes training). She does consider it a low-blow though. She's also definitely got the oral stim adhd too. Lots of chewlery, rip her pencils and pens, etc etc. Her and Percy probably have a shared chewlery collection.

Piper is not the bitey type but she does have little to no formal combat training so yknow, wet cat technique. I do also totally believe she'd also have a chewing stim though. Like yknow how I draw her with the little braid sidebangs? Yeah she definitely chews on those and that's part of why she wears her hair like that. The other reason is that braiding it is one of her other stims.

#pjo #riordanverse #jason grace #nico di angelo #percy jackson #annabeth chase #piper mclean #headcanon #headcanons #adhd #Anonymous #ask #yippee stimming hcs #not gonna tag Frank or Thalia cause they're only passingly mentioned #im just very amused by the potential of Jason ''bites affectionately'' Grace vs Nico ''younger sibling'' di Angelo #Jason: [friendly bite] :) || Nico: SO YOU HAVE CHOSEN DEATH. OUR BATTLE WILL BE LEGENDARY. || Jason: *MISTAKE MISTAKE MISTAKE-*#the difference between Jason and Nico is that if Jason intends to bite in combat he *means it.* he is taking a chunk out of his opponent.#he also does it rarely but would prefer to do it more. he's willing to bite in combat he just doesn't cause he was trained otherwise #Nico meanwhile bites as casual violence but may also take a chunk out of opponents if opportunity presents itself #cause Nico was trained to fight scrappy when not relying on skeletons #Jason also bites affectionately but Nico doesn't he's just stimming. Percy is also just stimming #long post //#i have actually thought about this genre of hc a lot before #i have opinions about the argo II crew's biting habits

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lendeah · 4 months

Text

Eclipsed Reverie

Pairing: AstarionxFem!Tav

Summary: As the final battle with the Nether Brain looms, Astarion and Tav share a bittersweet night together, their hearts heavy with the knowledge that it may be their last.

Tags: fluff, smut and a tiny bit of angst. Very soft Astarion :( also biting stuff!

Word count: 5.3k

Warnings: NSFW (minors dni).

Under the shadowed canopy of the Baldur's Gate night, Astarion and I found a momentary reprieve from the impending battle. We have been strategizing the whole evening, and at this point there is nothing more we can do except rely on each other. I look at the man next to me, wondering when did we go from strategizing allies to something more. The moonlight catches the contours of Astarion's face, revealing a vulnerability that transcends his usual cheeky demeanor. There's a shared understanding in the silence, and as our eyes meet, unspoken words linger in the air. Despite his usual aristocratic charm, it now feels damp and heavy. Even with his vampiric strength, he seems weakened by the recent events. The battle against Gortash had taken its toll, leaving both Gale and Shadowheart heavily wounded.

The air is heavy with tension, but a shared understanding lingers between us two. "Are you scared?" I break the silence, although I already know the answer.

"Terrified, actually." Astarion turns to face me, expression serious for once, his red eyes gleaming softly in the night in a way that's somehow comforting. "I know that we've already faced worse odds together, but this time feels different, you know? Like, if anything happened to either one of us, it would rip the other's heart apart."

I force a little smile. "Good thing you don't have a heart then, or I'd be worried"

He snorts softly, smiling back at me. "Oh, the ever-present stereotype of heartless vampires. But fear not, my dear, I still have plenty of heart left - just not the beating kind you may be envisioning." A small laugh escapes my lips at his words, breaking the tension between us.

After a beat, he looks at me and reaches my hand across the blanklet we are sitting in, his voice dropping to a whisper. "And you, my dear, are you scared?"

I hold his gaze, feeling a shiver run down my spine at the intensity. "Of course I am," I reply softly. "But I have faith in us, Astarion. We've faced so much together and we always come out stronger."

He nods "You're right," he says, a hint of pride in his voice. "We make a good team." he makes a little pause, and adds "Mainly thanks to me, of course. My lethal blattle skills are the only reason you weirdos are still breathing."

Astarion's usual smugness returns as he breaks the intense moment between us. I roll my eyes, knowing that deep down he's just masking his own fears with his bravado. But I also know that his skills in battle are not to be underestimated. He has saved our group from countless threats with his agility and cunning tactics.

"Let's just hope our luck holds out," I reply, trying to convince myself more than him.

"Oh come on, have a little faith in me," Astarion teases, nudging me playfully. "I may be a vampire but I'm not invincible. I need all the help I can get."

I chuckle, squeezing his hand. As we continue to bask in the moonlit serenity, a gentle breeze rustles the leaves above us, carrying with it the distant sounds of the city. From the rooftop of this abandoned building we are alble to look at the whole city, the small lights flickering in the night. I look at him, and find him staring at the view lost in his own thoughts. I fight the urge to scream how utterly frightened I am of losing him, of losing all our friends. Of not being able to save the people of Baldur's Gate. That everything we did, every death, was for nothing.

When his gaze returns to me, I can sense he sees past my facade, his eyes full of understanding and acceptance. "It's funny you are scared right now," he muses, his gaze searching mine, "there are so many things that you fearlessly face every day. Battling against a horde of mind flayers? Easy. Blowing up a whole building full of firework? A piece of cake. But sleeping among a throng of grunting and snoring druids? That's enough to make you quiver with dread." I laugh, thinking back to the time when I almost had a heart attack when I heard Halsin's snores, thinking there was a boar in the camp.

With a small smile, he pulls me to him, and lets his lips brush against my forehead in a tender gesture. The warmth of his touch soothes away some of my anxiety. I look up at Astarion, and the emotions I've been holding back start surging through me. "I can't bear to lose you," I say, barely above a tremble. He deserves happiness after all he's been through, and I just wish I could give it to him.

"It's funny you should say that... Because I'd say the exact same thing about you." His hand wraps around mine, his other hand moving up to gently cup my face. "I've tried for 200 years to find a purpose, a reason to keep going, and it was only when I met you that this aimless meandering had a goal. I've loved others, and I've been loved before, but never like this. Never with someone like you."

A surge of warmth fills my chest as I listen to his words, and I can't help but lean into his touch. Astarion's eyes are soft and full of sincerity, a side of him that he rarely shows. But in this moment, with the weight of the world on our shoulders, he is opening up to me.

"I've never felt like I belonged anywhere before," he continues, running his thumb along my cheekbone. "But with you and the others...I finally feel like I have a home."

In that moment, my vulnerability and affection shines through as a tear slids down my cheek. He pulls me closer, the embrace is warm and desperate, with my face pressed against his skin as if trying to take in every part of him. His scent is intoxicating - leather and smoke blending together - and I can't help but breathe it in deeply, etching it into my memory like a treasure. I tenderly press my lips to the bite mark on his neck, knowing it’s his sensitive spot. He inhales sharply, his breath hitching at the sensation of my mouth on him. I feel his hands grip onto me, needing to keep me close, and I end up nestled on top of him, our bodies fitting together perfectly like puzzle pieces.

"You know... I am not ashamed to admit that I have never felt the kind of attraction I feel for you. Even those first days in the grove with you... My heart was pounding, because I thought you were so incredibly beautiful. I was so drawn to you, it was like you were made just for me and me alone." I blush slightly in response, realizing I will probably never get used to this. Never get used to him.

"I liked you since you put a dagger in my throat and I headbutted you so hard you almost passed out" I whisper in his ear, with a small smile playing on my lips.

"That was an excellent headbutt, though. I couldn't believe you were able to stand immediately after that." He shakes his head, smiling as he presses a series of kisses to my hair, my cheeks, and finally, his lips find mine.

I sigh against him, his touch so very familiar, his mouth awakening something in me from the moment it touches mine. As our kiss deepens, I feel my body melting into his, my arms wrapping around his neck as his hands roam over my back and waist. The heat between us is intoxicating, and I can't get enough of him. My hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as our tongues dance together in a passionate rhythm. His hands gently trail up my sides, fingertips caressing my body softly through my clothes, while his tongue dancing with mine in a rhythm that I have become all too privy to.

Desire sweeps over me like a wave crashing against the shore, my senses heightened to the point of almost overwhelming. I force myself to pull away for just a few seconds, needing to catch my breath and take in the sight before me. His once bright, piercing eyes have now transformed into pools of darkness, consumed by an insatiable hunger. I look at his lips, parted and glistening, showing those fangs I have grown to love so much.

"My love," I whisper, my voice trembling with anticipation. "Would you like to feed on me?" It's a question I have asked countless times before, but each time feels like the first, igniting a fire within me that can only be quenched by his bite.

There's a flicker of surprise, and then satisfaction, on his face as I ask him. His eyes flicker downward, his gaze wandering down my neck, tracing every vein he'll find there. His nose flares, breath growing heavy and my body thrums with anticipation and excitement. When he looks back at me, the hunger in his eyes grows, and with a small chuckle, he lets out a slow breath.

"My dear... You know I could never say no to such delicious meal."

My breath hitches, as his hands confidently and carefully press me onto my back, his fingers gently removing the collar of my shirt to reveal my neck. I take a deep breath, bracing myself for what's to come. He brushes away a strand of hair that has fallen across my face, just like he did the first time he fed on me all those months ago. His strong hands hold me steady as he leans in, and the warmth of his breath washes over me. I have to fight the urge to squirm as his lips press against my skin, trailing down to my collarbone where his teeth break through the surface. A sharp sting pierced my skin, and I can’t help but let out a moan. I can feel his tongue swirling around the wound as he feeds, his breathing becoming more labored with each passing second. My heartbeat races with excitement as Astarion's teeth sank deeper into my neck, drawing out more blood. He growls softly, his grip on me tightening as he feeds greedily. The world around me begins to fade as the vampire venom courses through my veins, clouding my mind and heightening my senses. He bit again, this time just below the first wound, and I could feel myself growing weaker yet more alive at the same time. The lack of blood starts to get to my mind, making me lightheaded. It was both terrifying and arousing, knowing that I was being drained of life while also experiencing a rush of pleasure unlike anything else.

He keeps the bite going for just a little bit longer, before eventually pulling away.

"Mmmm. I always worry that I'll drink too much from you, but you always seem to make it through just fine?" he says, his voice rough with desire.

I laugh groggily "I think I enjoy myself a little too much when you drink from me".

Astarion chuckles softly, a hand stroking my neck affectionately.

"As much as I hate to admit it, you're quite delicious. There's something about your flavor that keeps me coming back for more." he purred, flashing a sly grin. "Just like how you can't resist my charms. Always coming back like a pretty little pup."

I roll my eyes playfully at his cocky remark but can't help the small smile that tugs at my lips. My thoughts are interrupted as Astarion shifts closer again. His body presses against mine and I can feel his breath on my face as he leans in. Our eyes lock for a brief moment before our lips meet in a passionate kiss.

He tastes like blood and something else entirely that is uniquely Astarion. It's an intoxicating combination that leaves my head dizzy with desire, making me want more.

I reach to the back of his head and curl my fingers in his soft strands of white hair, giving it a sharp tug. He groans, and I deepen the kiss, electricity cursing through me as I grab at every piece of him that I can. Every kiss grows longer and deeper, and I cling to him like I will drown without him, wanting nothing more than to spend what's left of tonight buried in his touch. His breathing grows heavier, but his grip on me is firm, steady. His hands wander over my body, one trailing down my waist and the other moving upwards slowly, to slide beneath my shirt.

"Mmm - my my, look at you." His whisper is filled with a teasing affection. "It seems like the venom has already put you in a mood." My breath catches and I lock my legs together. His grin grows wider as he watches my eager reaction. His hands keep caressing my body softly, and his voice is lower than usual, his words almost a growl. "Feeling a bit overwhelmed already, are we?"

I can only nod frantically as he leans in for another kiss. Our bodies move together in a rhythm that feels familiar yet new every time we're together like this. I moan in response, my head swimming with the taste of him, the feeling of him everywhere, and his smell, gods, that smell. He separates for a second, removing both my shirt and pants in a swift move, and leaving me exposed in nothing but my underwear. Every nerve ending in my body hums with anticipation as I await bare before him.

The way he looks at me, the way his eyes wander over my every curve, is intoxicating - and not just because of the venom. He traces his hand over my skin, his fingers slowly caressing every inch. His fingertips gently graze over my chest, brushing against the fabric of my underwear, and then his hand slips underneath the bra. I squirm beneath his touch, my breath catching, my excitement clearly showing as I arch my back. "Y-you are still fully dressed" I say, as I reach for his shirt. But before I can even lift the fabric, he grips my wrist firmly, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Oh no, my dear, you see... I have a different plan."

With a sudden movement, he presses his lips to the still sensitive skin under my neck, sending shivers down my spine. His tongue flicks at the punctures, his teeth gently nipping at it, until I can’t focus on anything else but the sensation of his touch. The weight of his hands on me was almost suffocating, but at the same time, it only adds to the pleasure coursing through my body. Overwhelmed with pain and pleasure, I let out a moan, louder this time, thanking the gods for being in a secluded area far away from the rest of our companions.

"I-I need to see you". I gasp, my thoughts scattered and my body yearning for him.

"Need?" Astarion leans in again, his voice dripping with honey. "Oh I know how much you need me." A mischievous glint dances in his eyes as he continues, "But don't forget about want and desire - I promise I can fulfill all of your cravings." His grin widens, as if he's sharing a delightful secret.

His hand tightens slightly, and his grin only widens. "Now, would you like to try asking me again, but with more pleading?"

"Please" I whisper, my voice barely audible even in the quiet of our secluded spot. Astarion's smirk widens even more, and he leans in close until our noses are almost touching.

"Please what?" he taunts, his hot breath tickling my skin.

My cheeks flush with embarrassment as I realize that he wants me to say it out loud. To admit how much I crave him, how much I need him. But then again, isn't that exactly what I want? To let go of all inhibitions and give myself completely to him?

"Please...I need you," I murmur, feeling a mixture of shame and arousal wash over me.

Astarion's smile turns into a satisfied grin as he loosens his grip on my wrist and leans back slightly. "Good girl. That's perfect." he purrs, before he pushes back, slowly stripping the rest of his clothes off, till he's just as exposed as I am right now. "Do you have any idea just how exhilarated I am right now?" His words are playful, his eyes twinkling as he leans forward. "All of this, this energy that's in my blood... and it's all your fault." He leans in again over my body, his breath fanning my lips "What are you going to do about it, my dear?"

I can’t help but feel a thrill run down my spine at the thought of being able to turn the tables on him for once. I reach out and grab onto his shoulders, pulling him closer until our lips were inches away from each other.

"I'll show you," I whisper.

"I bet you will…” Astarion leans in, his breath hot and sharp as he inches even closer. Then he pulls back, a devilish grin on his lips. It's clear he's enjoying this.

With a quick, fluid motion, I thrust my hands against his chest and roll on top of him. Despite the chaos and danger of our quests, I can't help but feel grateful for the physical strength and endurance it has given me in moments like these.

I take the moment to admire the beautiful lines of his body, the way his pale and smooth skin seems to shine under the moonlight, the curves and planes of his stomach and chest. My eyes linger on the stretch just below his navel and traveling south. My mouth waters at the sight of him, never used to his beauty doesn't matter how many times I see him like this. His muscles flex and tense under my gaze, and he watches me, his breath growing as ragged as mine is. He smiles widely, enjoying my staring at him so intensely.

"Enjoying the view?" He smirks at my admiration. "Is that all I am to you? A beautiful body?"

My own lips turn up in a sly smile as I tease him. "Well, let's just say you're not bad, but have you seen Gale without his shirt on? Now that is some tough competition."

I was expecting to see a jealous reaction, but instead he bursts out laughing. "You are a menace! I am a gorgeous, beautiful creature. Gale is... not unattractive, I suppose. But he also looks like someone glued bird wings to his hair and called it a day." He reaches out with a hand to gently trace his fingers down the lines of my stomach. "Mhmm..." I release a content sigh and take my hands to his chest and shoulders, caressing the smooth expanse of skin there. "Although I admit, I am way more curious about Wyll" I say, and then turning my voice into a whisper I add "You can grab his horns if you get really into it"

He laughs again, his mouth curling into a mocking smile. "Oh, you're curious about him, are you?" He shifts below me, his hips pressing against mine."Well, I should warn you - his horns aren't the only sharp part of him. He has a very sensitive spot, and he might just stab you if you try..."

I laugh lightly "You stab me everyday with those fangs of yours, so I think I'm used to it"

His voice growls low and deep, sending shivers down my spine. "Is that so?" he asks, the words dripping with a mixture of amusement and challenge.

My own breath catches as I feel his hips rise to meet mine again, the fabric of our underwear the only barrier between us. The sensation of his erection pressing against me in just the right spot sends a jolt of electricity through my body. "Maybe you should go to him instead, then" he taunts with a smirk, a knowing glint in his eyes. "But, then again, what would he say if he saw you like this?" His words are punctuated by another forceful thrust and I can't help but release a small moan in response. "Wrecked and bruised. Marked by me"

An uncontrollable moan escapes my lips as I start rocking my hips back and forth, the friction sending waves of pleasure throughout my body. I find purchase on his chest and scratch the skin there, hard enough to leave a mark.

"And you would like that, wouldn’t you?" His breath catches as my movements become faster, more aggressive. He knows what he's doing, and he enjoys seeing how it affects you. "Would you like for him to see you like that, with my marks on you? Knowing what we did? Would you want him to know that I had you first?"

"Yes, I would love for him to know that," I confess out of breath, as I struggle against the intense urges that fill me.

He lets out a low, guttural groan and appears to be finished with our playful game. He swiftly maneuvers my body back beneath his own.

With a quick and eager movement, I discard my now ruined underwear and he follows suit, shedding his own. My legs curve around his waist, drawing him closer to me as I feel the heat emanating from his body. As my hands roam over his back, I can't help but trace the raised lines of scar tissue, a reminder of battles fought and won. My heart swells with love for this man, and I plant gentle kisses along his shoulder, speckled with tiny freckles that resemble a dazzling constellation. Gods he is so breathtakengly beautiful. "None of our companions would make me half as happy as you do" I murmur against his pointed ear. His body tenses, and I can feel the emotions warring within him. "I know," he replies softly, turning to capture my lips in a deep kiss.

His hand squeezes down against my thigh, his fingers slowly working their way up my leg. His eyes find mine again, a flicker of recognition in them. And then he thrusts in deep, our hips colliding in loud smacking sound. My hips buck forward to meet his, the friction making me a wreck.

"Astarion," I whisper, arching my back and wrapping my arms around him. He groans and leans down to catch my lips in a searing kiss, and we both find ourselves struggling for air. My hands grip his shoulders, nails digging in slightly as my body responds to the intensity of the moment. I am panting as his thrusts start becoming harder and harder each second. Pleasure ripples through me, every touch turning me on fire. I glance up at him, and find his eyes tightly shut in concentration. "Please look at me," I whisper, my voice trembling with desire.

His eyes fly open at my plea, and I can see the raw pleasure mirrored in their depths. The way my body moves against his elicits soft moans from him, his gaze dropping down to take in the way our bodies fit together perfectly, the spot where our bodies connect. When he lifts his eyes back on me, is with a look of adorarion. His chest rises and falls rapidly as he leans in, pressing his nose against mine in an intimate gesture.

"I love when you beg for me, darling" he whispers, as his hips begin moving even harder, his thrusts quicker, rougher, and his body is so close now that it's almost like we are merging into one being.

Astarion's words send a shiver down my spine, and I cling onto him tighter as he continues to move inside me. Each thrust sends shocks of pleasure through my body, igniting every nerve ending and driving me closer to the edge.

"Please," I moan, my voice barely above a whisper as I tilt my hips up to meet his. He brings his fingers down to the place where we are connected, and touches my nub with vigor. I cry out at the feeling, my nails now fully scratching his back. His free fingers dig into the skin of my hips as his pace quickens, his breaths coming in shallow gasps. My teeth find their way to his neck, and I bite down with wild possessiveness. My brain buzzes with pleasure, and I can’t control the sensations coursing through me. The orgasm hits me like a bolt of lightning, causing me to open my mouth in a silent scream and cling onto him with my locked legs. My whole body tenses, as the ecstasy doesn’t seem to end.

His fingers dig into my scalp, his breath is fast and shallow and his eyes are locked on my face. I feel his body tense, the pleasure of my orgasm driving him right to the edge - but he doesn't let go, not yet. I feel him start to lose control of his thrusts, and after a few hard pumps his body seizes and with a rough groan. With a final gasp, he collapses on top of me, holding me close as we both catch our breath. We caress each other’s bodies, helping to ground ourselves again.

When he opens his eyes, they sparkle with satisfaction and amusement. It’s such a familiar gesture that I get suddenly overwhelmed with my love for the man before me, and can’t help but reach for him as I start to cry heavily over his shoulder. Astarion's strong arms wrap around me, holding me close as I cry against his chest. He strokes my hair gently, whispering soothing words as he lets me release all of my emotions. Tears and snot mix together as I sob, my body shaking with the weight of everything that has happened.

After what feels like an eternity, my cries turn to sniffles and then eventually stop altogether. Astarion pulls back slightly, cupping my face in his hands and using his thumbs to wipe away the remaining tears on my cheeks.

"Are you okay?" he asks softly, searching my eyes for any signs of distress.

I nod, giving him a watery smile."It's just..." I gasp "I love you so much" I finally manage to say, my voice cracking with emotion. "I wish we didn't have to go tomorrow. I wish you could stay safe at camp"

At my words, a soft smile plasters on his face, and he pulls me closer, one arm wrapped around me in a protective embrace while the other hand gently strokes up and down my back.

"Oh my dear," he whispers softly. "Don't be sad. This was the only decision we could make, the only right choice for us." words dripping with love and reassurance."You taught me about making the right choices, remember?" He playfully smirks, his fingers brushing away some stray tears from my cheeks. After a few seconds, he adds "I promise you, we will come back from this all in one piece. We always do."

I nod "I know. I just wish we didn't have to be the heroes for once"

"I know, my dear," Astarion says with a sad smile. He kisses my forehead and I rest my head on his chest, his breathing calming me down little by little. He lazily draws figures on my back, as I do over his pec, laying in comfortable silence. The quiet is soothing to us both, after the intense moment we just shared. I can't help but notice that he's tracing a little circle on my back, the pattern of one of his many scars. This makes me smile to myself somehow, like I'm feeling even closer to him, if that's possible.

After a few seconds of silence, he looks down at me and his fingers fall still. "I love you, you know." he says "More than anything or anyone."

"Even more than your hair?" I ask teasingly, as I caress his face with my finger.

He feigns shock and puts a hand to his chest. "Don't be foolish now. Have you seen my locks? No one could possibly love anything more than my magnificent white curls."

His words are playful, but his expression grows serious "You are the most valuable thing in my life. The only one who's ever truly seen me, as I really am. The only one in the whole world who I don't have to hide a single piece of myself from." He tenderly presses his lips against the tip of my finger, sending a wave of fluttering butterflies throughout my stomach. His love for me is palpable and it fills me with warmth and joy.

He leans in and kisses me gently, his lips soft against mine as he pours all of his love into it. My heart swells with emotion as our lips move together in perfect harmony. In this moment, it feels like nothing else matters except for us and our love.

When we finally pull away, we both let out a content sigh and rest our foreheads against each other's. We fall asleep like that, our bodies intertwined in a mess of limbs as if we are one.

The warm rays of sunlight gently wake me up, and I find myself still wrapped in Astarion's embrace. His arms are tightly around me as if he's afraid to let go, and I can't help but smile at the sight.

I take a few moments to admire his sleeping figure. He has his eyes closed, with thick lashes falling over his cheeks. His hair falls lightly over his forehead, and I resist the urge to tuck it behind his ear.

I trace my fingers over his chest, feeling the rise and fall of it with each breath. In this peaceful moment, I am filled with gratitude for having him in my life. He has been my anchor through so much chaos and danger. Something inside me melts at the softness of his sleep, and in that moment, I can't help but wonder what things would be like if he were to stay with you like this - if I could have him, completely, without any worry about the world ending tomorrow. And you will I tell myself when you defeat that damned brain.

A soft snore escapes Astarion's lips and I chuckle softly. He stirs slightly, nuzzling closer to me as if sensing my presence. "Good morning," he mumbles against my neck, his voice husky from sleep.

"Good morning," I reply with a smile.

"Hmm. You're a cruel one, to wake me up when sleep is so nice. But I suppose I can allow that because you are cute."

"I couldn't stand your snoring any longer. I wonder how someone so beautiful can produce such horrible sound" I reply, trying to hide my amusement.

"Oh? I always thought my snores were just endearing! It's your fault, for being so sensitive that you can't just learn to live with them. Maybe I should just snore louder to drown out your complaining instead." I pretend to look wounded, but end up laughing uncontrollably. "You are the worst" I say, leaning against his chest.

"I'll admit, my talent for irritating you is very much a learned skill." He chuckles, then looks down at me as his arms slip on to my waist. "Besides," he adds with a grin, "I was only half joking with that last bit. I'll be sure to snore in your ear a little harder tonight. Just to make sure you get properly annoyed, hm?"

I playfully hit him in the chest, and then I grimly realize the sun is almost up, which means we have to leave. I sadly sigh as I untangle myself from his warm embrace and get up.

"We should probably get going," I say, trying to hide my own reluctance.

We quietly collect our clothes and dress ourselves, deep in thought at what awaits us. Silence fills the air between us two, as both of us take in the morning air. I feel the tension of the upcoming battle, and the dread is a weight upon us that makes it almost difficult to breathe. Our understanding is palpable through just a fleeting gaze and a silent nod. His warm hand reaches for mine, the gentle intertwining of our fingers conveying more than words ever could.

And at that moment, I can only hope that the next time my eyes open, he'll still be by my side. Hand in hand, we finally face the coming storm, the echo of shared whispers lingering in the air, a testament to the fragile beauty found in the darkest hours.

#astarion ancunin #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #bg3 #bg3 fanfic prompt #bg3 tav #astarion x tav #astarion fanfic #baldurs gate fanfiction #baldurs gate 3 #astarion baldurs gate #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #fanfic

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istoleyoursk1n · 4 months

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Hello! I know I just requested something else, but I also have another request if you're up for it 🥰 How about all of the companies with a s/o who's really short and wears a lot of layers but it's later revealed that they're absolutely ripped and ridiculously muscular but nobody would have expected it? I think it'd be hilarious to see everyone go "Holy cow you could crush my head if you wanted to 😯"

Thank you so much again!!

•❅───────────✧❅✦❅✧───────────❅•

How would they react to a Tav who wears a lot of layers but is secretly ripped

: ̗̀➛ ASTARION

“So you’re telling me the little garden gnome could have manhandled half of us if they wanted to? Gods. Am I to be thanking you for sparing me and my pretty skin unscathed all this time?”

Probably the one making fun of your height and holding things up above you so you couldn't reach them.

He didn't really see you as anything he should be threatened by so he figured he could get away with a lot.

Besides you never really tried to fight back most of the time so he found his own little source of entertainment with his playful little jabs at you.

Was very much startled when you shook those layers off to reveal your muscular frame, he didn't expect it at all. You didn't even look strong in his eyes, until now at least.

Suddenly he’s wondering why you haven't once tried to punch him in the face after the amount of times he's poked fun at you.

Do not punch his face though (0/10) would not recommend, he bites.

Questions why you even bother to hiding yourself in layers upon layers of clothing? Is it some sort of deceptive tactic he wasn't aware of? (It probably wasn't but he’s appalled that you’d even hide something like this).

Other than that, he's impressed. Who knew you were hiding your own raw strength behind layers of clothing? Quite the sight for sore eyes if he does say so himself.

Encourages you to show it off more often, who needs all those rags when you have such an impressive build?

: ̗̀➛ WYLL

“Hells, to think that behind all those rags was the body of a true warrior! Safe to say that I’ll never be doubting your abilities again.”

Truthfully found you rather adorable since you were considered the shortest among the rest of your travelling companions.

You seemed harmless enough, but, he never once believed that you were completely fragile because of it.

However, there were times when he’d often do tasks that you knew you were perfectly capable of handling yourself over the fact that he was unaware of your true strength.

There have been a lot of times when he jumped in front of you during battles, worried that you couldn't handle it yourself.

However, the shock that appeared on his face once all those layers were shaken off was priceless.

He might have been a little bit embarrassed as well seeing as how he might have underestimated you a tad bit which knew could be quite undermining on your end.

Immediately voices his initial surprise and how amazed he is that you seem to look as fit if not even more so than him.

You look amazing! And he wishes you could leave all the layers more often if it's something you are comfortable with of course.

You knew he was already quite fond of you but now wistful glances from him would come as often as possible in pure admiration of your raw strength. Safe to say he’d never be underestimating your capabilities again.

: ̗̀➛ GALE

“It seems that until now, I find myself learning new information about you… though, I must say, you possessing a rather athletically built figure wasn't one of them. Not to say I don’t appreciate the way you look.”

Wasn't quite sure why you were wearing that many layers of clothing. The weather was already relatively hot and still, you insisted on wearing such things.

I mean, as long as you are comfortable and happy with them he didn't seem all too bothered by it.

Found you endearing in his own way, seeing as he would often find himself craning his neck or having to bend his body to meet your eye level but it made it all the more amusing for him.

Similar to Wyll, he found himself underestimating your true abilities as you truly appeared harmless in his eyes. Sure, if you had to kill a goblin for your own survival you would but you didn't exactly give off brutish vibes.

Even so, that never made him find your company any less enjoyable.

Though, he was quite startled when your true form was revealed, and all those extra layers of clothing were taken off from you. He wasn't even sure if he was looking at the right person.

One moment you appeared as innocent and delicate as could be only for you to actually have the body of someone who's probably more physically capable than him.

You've probably given him another reason as to why he admires you all too much. The new look on you is a tad bit distracting for him and Gale can't manage to hide how smitten he is for the life of him.

If anything, now you’re all the more distracting to him, and it takes him a while to break out of that haze he's put himself in.

: ̗̀➛ KARLACH

“Fucking hell, all the things I could have known about you but I never thought it would be this! You’re absolutely ripped! A badass body for one of the coolest people I know.”

Was practically squealing from how adorable you looked, especially in comparison to her towering height. You were like a little puppy in her eyes.

She couldn't understand why you’d wear so many layers of clothing, it's not like it was cold, and she knew that if she were to try that herself she’d feel uncomfortable as all hell.

But she won't press on it, as long as you are okay with it then wear as much as you wish.

The moment she was able to touch you, she was off carrying you around. She had wanted to pick you up for the longest time but she didn't understand why you felt slightly heavier than she thought you would be.

Perhaps it's all the extra layers of clothing? Either way, she didn't care. As long as she got to mess around with her favorite travel companion then what the hell.

Freaked out the moment you actually revealed how ripped you are beneath all the rags. You were practically as muscular as her.

It only seemed to excite her more because now she's fawning over how amazing you look and what you did to make your body look like this.

You've only grown to be ten times more awesome in her eyes and to see you use your true strength makes her swoon. She couldn't have chosen a better companion to have alongside her.

Suddenly the extra weight she felt carrying you made a lot more sense. Not that she’ll ever complain. Even with the newfound information, she’ll never stop lifting you up in her arms for the fun of it.

: ̗̀➛ SHADOWHEART

“I suppose there's more to be known about you, isn't there? I was not expecting you to be as fit as you are but I can't say it isn't something I’d find myself grow tired of seeing.”

She didn't think much about the extra layers of clothing you wore other than it being for comfort or aesthetics. She's not one to care much for it.

You've been a helpful and valuable member of the group thus far, she saw no reason to underestimate you even in terms of strength.

It was rather amusing to have you around as a much shorter companion than her.

It wasn't something she ever mentioned or poked fun of but the coy little smile on her face revealed just how much she found the height difference amusing.

She was pleasantly surprised the moment you revealed just how muscular you truly are, even with her insight she never would have expected it.

Regardless, she's impressed with your stature, knowing that obtaining such a form would have taken a long time to have.

With or without all the layers, she still thinks you’re pleasing in her eyes, and whether you choose to use that undeniable strength is all up to you.

Though, she will take a moment to admire you while she can. She’d never force you to quit using layers of clothing but looking at you when you’re like this has its own appeal.

: ̗̀➛ LAE’ZEL

“Just when I thought we’d have to eliminate you for your lack of use. Chk, perhaps I was wrong about you, istik. Consider my blade unsheathed for now.”

Practically disregarded you at first. You seemed so weak in her eyes that she wasn't even sure what assistance you’d provide for her.

She finds the layers upon layers of clothing unnecessary and it isn't practical when charging into battle. She's told you to leave it multiple times to your dismay.

Unless you have done something to prove that you are fairly capable of handling your own battles, she's very blunt about how incapable you seem to her.

It's even worse if you’re short cause she just has more aspects of you to undermine you with.

She’ll come off as really mean but that's mostly due to how she was raised. She can easily spot disadvantages and she won't hesitate to point out each one, especially if you two aren't close.

Was genuinely shocked to see you without the layers and what your true strength truly holds. She would have taken all those demeaning words the moment you've proved yourself.

Besides, seeing you in your true glory probably woke something up in her.

She's infatuated by strong, powerful warriors and seems that you fit the bill.

You were everything she thought you weren't and she’d come to realize just how wrong about you she was. You could have probably even sparred against her if only she had given you the proper chance.

She’d come around to actually apologizing for her earlier jabs at you sooner or later but she truly has gained a newfound respect for you. You’ll never find her insulting you again.

: ̗̀➛ HALSIN

“You’re full of surprises, aren't you? Perhaps you never truly needed my protection, you've been blessed with a body that I’m certain nature itself worked tirelessly to perfect. However, I stand at your side in case you wish for any assistance.”

Thought nothing much of your extra layers of clothing. If anything it made you look all the more adorable in his eyes.

You could tell he was already enamored by you every time you had to look up to him to speak, the smile on his face never seemed to have disappeared.

He was probably extra protective of you under the assumption that you weren't as strong as the rest. Not that it was something he considered to be bad, but he wanted to make sure you wouldn't get hurt.

He’d end up doing most of the fighting for you, insisting that he's got it handled even though you knew you were capable of fighting the rest off yourself.

Regardless, it wasn't unpleasant to have Halsin come in to protect you despite your capabilities, it showed how much he cared.

He was startled when you showed your body beneath all the layers of clothing, even having to take a few seconds to stare as if he couldn't believe it.

This only seemed to make him all the more interested in you now that his eyes managed to catch a glimpse of the skin underneath all those rags, it was a sight that he would have imprinted into his mind.

Nevertheless, he will never underestimate you again but he’ll always be there in case you still wish for his protection. He could never say no to you.

•❅───────────✧❅✦❅✧───────────❅•

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 headcanon #bg3 headcanons #bg3 wyll #bg3 astarion #bg3 gale #bg3 halsin #bg3 shadowheart #bg3 lae’zel #bg3 karlach #astarion #wyll #gale #shadowheart #halsin #lae’zel #karlach #bg3 x reader

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silverskye13 · 1 month

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how do u write fighting or do u have any tips? i have an idea for a fanfic not mcyt related but im terrified ill write the fight scene poorly as it makes up a majority of the fic.

Fighting and fight scene tips! I have a couple I guess! The tricky thing is fight scenes are really subjective. It's hard to give a "and here's all the puzzle pieces you need for a good one" kinda answer. But I can at least tell you the stuff I think about while I'm writing.

You know the drill, writing tips under the cut:

1. Research

I feel like I put this on every tip list. Research the thing you're doing. The Internet is your greatest friend and confidante. Look up YouTube videos of fighting competitions. Look up the weapons your characters are using. Figure out how many bullets are in the magazine for the gun type your character is using. Research how far you have to be to survive that explosion. Figure out if the cool sword breaker was actually useful in combat and why. Get a reasonable measure for how much blood your blorbo can lose before they pass out. This will help you paint a clear picture for yourself about what needs to happen, and why. Your readers don't necessarily have to have that clear picture, but the more you, the writer, know, the more likely you are to write a consistent, understandable narrative.

2. Character POV is important!

What does your character even know about fighting anyway? <- the most important question to ask of your POV character. This establishes what your character can tell your audience about what's going on. Has your character never fought before? Are they familiar with the weapons used? Do they know counters for fighting styles? Do they even know how to throw a punch? Do they have a high pain tolerance? These things will inform how the character informs us, the readers, about what's going on. Generally speaking, lack of consistency is what makes fight scenes frustrating, in my opinion. Sitting there and going "hey wait, how did that teenager know better battle tactics than the general they're fighting?" Takes you out of the moment and ruins whatever cool thing that teenager just did. Going "hold on, what do you mean the sniper didn't realize he was out of bullets?" Does the same thing. Keeping the characters consistent stops your readers from questioning the validity of the scene.

3. What can your readers see, and is it the same as what the characters see?

Similar to above, but a little more meta. Fight scenes are often played for drama. You're putting the character in peril, and that peril is for a reason: to make the audience have an emotional response. Can the readers see an ambush because of your 3rd person omniscient perspective, but the characters can't? Is that a good thing? Will it ruin the shock and surprise of the ambush, or will it induce dread and up the stakes? The enemy has a poisoned sword. Is this obvious to the audience in a way that isn't for the character? This is playing with suspense in a fight, adding and subtracting stakes for the readers, and it needs to be balanced against what the characters know.

I'm mentioning this as a thing because revealing your hand to the audience can be a really interesting way to add suspense, but if the audience feels like a character should've been able to see it coming [ex. How come the assassin didn't anticipate someone poisoning a blade during a fight?] it ruins the immersion of the scene, and makes it feel like you the author are shoving the characters in a direction. Generally speaking if the readers can see the hand of the author moving, it breaks immersion.

[Notably, I don't write in 3rd person omniscient. I write in 3rd person limited. I don't often have a chance or reason to reveal information to the audience that the main character doesn't know, because the audience is observing the world through that character.]

4. What are the guys in the back doing?

Everyone knows the Main Character has to fight the Antagonist at some point, but normally the MC isn't alone. They have friends and allies, or their pet dog. They have a supporting cast, and that supporting cast wants to help the main character. So... where are they exactly? A pitfall I see in Big Final Fight Scenes pretty often is, the MC brings an army, or their crew, or their super friends or whoever, and yet somehow, they end up fighting the bad guy alone, and the writer just... Doesn't address the other people in the room. And you the reader are left going, "Wait, why is no one intervening?" This gets especially immersion breaking when the main character inevitably starts losing their fight [because drama, few fights are easy]. Our MC might die! Why is no one trying to run even a basic distraction on the Antag? This isn't to say you have to have your supporting cast get involved in the final fight -- sometimes you need that solo showdown! But you do have to have a convincing reason to keep the rest of the cast away. If we the readers are under the impression there's six other people in the room just standing there, because you the writer forgot they were there, it gets kinda awkward.

5. Zoom in! Feel it. Zoom out! See it.

Okay so, you now know: Basic information on how your character(s) fight, what your POV character(s) know, what the readers can see (either the same or different from your characters), and you know where everyone is and what they're doing. You have your god's eye view ready. How do you show it?

Zoom in, zoom out.

There is a balance to fight scenes, in about the same way there is a balance to an art piece. There is a foreground, middle ground, and background. Each have importance, each need focus. The foreground is what is happening immediately in front of your POV character, it's their thoughts, what their weapon feels like, any wounds they've taken. It's bullet time, and observations, and right in their face. The middle ground is the surrounding 5-10ft. It's the people beside them, it's what's just past their opponent. It's the rest of the room, or the sound just out of view, or the object just out of reach. The background is everything past that. It's distant explosions. It's their friend getting wounded. It's an archer on the next rooftop.

How much of that you want your audience to see, how you want to vary that, depends on what you as an author view as important. If you want to focus more on the character, their struggle, their opponent, you will write most of the fight scene in the foreground. Focus on what the character feels, the sensation of movement, the pain, fear, exhilaration. Focus on the words they're saying [or not saying]. Focus on what they know, what they're telling the audience. If you want to highlight the battle, how the main character is working in their surroundings, you will focus on the middle ground. This is what the character looks like from an outside perspective, how they fight against their opponent. This is them trying to reach an item, or shove their opponent into something. This is running, and kicking, and trying to figure out if your friend is still by your side. This is seeing your comrade go down out of the corner of your eye, or admiring someone's fighting style, or screaming orders at someone. The background is anything further away, a distant problem that is putting on pressure. A ticking time bomb. This is the building catching fire, the lightning in the storm overhead. This is superman fighting off the alien army while your MC is trying to kill the general. This is you reminding the audience the rest of the world hasn't stopped turning while the MC has been doing MC things.

Generally speaking, I like to move through all three spaces several times during a fight scene? The main character is hurting and holding onto their sword, and breathing is hard. The antag is pressing the advantage, trying to back them through the space. But they can't lose too much ground, because their friend is fighting the second antag over there, and they're bleeding from a fresh cut. They have to win, they have to escape, because the sound outside says the building is groaning on its foundation-- and the main character stumbles as the building rocks. [And I've just moved through all three types of ground, giving the audience a clear view of what's happening].

You don't have to bounce reliably through the space. Not showing the background for a long time means you can surprise your audience with a new hero or villain swooping in! Or leave us in suspense about that magic ritual we're supposed to be stopping. Not showing a middle ground side character implies your MC is so distracted they won't know their friend is hurt until it's too late -- etc.

If it helps, I like to imagine there's a little invisible camera panning around, taking dramatic shots of everything, like you're making a movie, and writing accordingly.

Uhm!! Hopefully that's helpful?

Some broader quick tips:

Fight scenes are very fast, and generally happen over a period of a few minutes. That time will feel significantly longer because it's jammed packed with Stuff Happening, but the fact remains, it's only a few minutes. Keeping the timing in mind helps you figure out if backup can arrive to help, or if it's reasonable for someone to miss the fight happening, etc,

On that note, if it's a battle specifically, battles [especially medieval ones] are short. They don't last all day, unless they're a siege, and even then, sieges are long periods of digging in and waiting with short clashes peppered around.

This might just be me, but try not to overuse metaphors? We get it. The swordsmen look like they're dancing. But not everything they do is graceful or dancer-y. Sometimes you can just say "and he punched him in the face." Unless your writing style is naturally super flowery, in which case, do continue. Consistency is key.

Do some basic research on wounds. Suspension of disbelief can only carry so far, and pain is genuinely debilitating. Also, yes coughing up blood is a very dramatic "the character is dying" cue, but in real life it only happens on very bad lung/throat wounds. If what you're writing is Super Realistic, maybe don't throw that in there.

Write confusion with care. You might not want your audience to know what's going on all the time, but if your audience genuinely can't figure out what's going on, why something is happening, or who it's happening to, you will eventually lose your immersion.

Write comedy with care. If your fight is non-serious, or if your character in a serious fight doesn't normally take things seriously, jokes are allowed to happen. But sometimes if you don't take it seriously enough, you will chop the knees off your drama. Maybe save some of the jokes for after the life-threatening battle is over.

I think! That's everything I can think of just now! I hope it helps :'D

#answering asks #anonymous #writing advice #writing tips #writing #apologies if this was incoherent at all #its 2am im very tired and this week has been hell #i wanted to answer this before i forgot it and it got buried

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aliensupersyn · 2 months

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This is a short analysis of Sukuna's fighting habits, meant to explain why he will be using black box next chapter soon. I'll just skip right to the important stuff.

TLDR: Cleave and dismantle are not Sukuna's real cursed technique, but an aspect of it. They are his CTs for killing fodder. He saves black box as a trump card.

Cleave and Dismantle, Sukuna's usual invisible slash attacks. Cleave usually requires direct contact with the target, and Sukuna can unleash multiple dismantles back to back.

Sukuna's fight with Ryu demonstrates Sukuna's usual use of these two. Dismantles tear through targets at a distance, Cleaves do the same, but with more power in a closer range.

When Ryu survived dismantle, the weaker of the two slash attacks, Cleave was then more than enough to slice Ryu's heads in three.

Shibuya

Throughout his battle with Jogo, Sukuna used cleave and dismantle and overwhelmed him. Sukuna first used black box here because, as he states, Jogo intrigued him. As a sign of (dis)respect, Sukuna revealed he could match Jogo's fire.

"I won't cheat by revealing my cursed technique."

To make the point that Jogo earned his respect, Sukuna admitted to seeing Jogo's strength, which provides enough reason why Sukuna might have decided to use black box here.

In this same arc, Sukuna encountered Mahoraga for the first time. Maho was the first being in the story to see his ability, and Sukuna's surprise hints that very few have probably done so before.

Mahoraga adapted to "slash attacks" after Sukuna used Malevolent Shrine. Therefore, Sukuna had to use black box again to attack with something other than a slash attack. This also confirms c/d only to be aspects of some other kind of power.

Final Arc

Once Sukuna stole Ten Shadows, he used that as yet another CT to avoid using his own. Mahoraga allowed Sukuna to adapt to Limitless and create an anti-Gojo slash attack that avoids the six eyes. Simply, Gojo could not see world dismantle, and likely could not see regular c/d either.

Since Gojo's death, Sukuna has only used c/d to fight the remaining cast. Sukuna was fully prepared to battle all of jjh's forces. We know this because Kenjaku said so, and Sukuna had Heian form on standby in case Gojo ruined Megkuna's body. Therefore, I wager, Sukuna was only planning to use c/d to fodderize the entire cast.

Even against Yuta, Sukuna only used c/d, reflecting Uraume's taunts that Sukuna has not been in any real danger (even though that really is a stretch).

Run-Down on Sukuna's "Levels"

As shown with Ryu, he opens with a dismantle. If the target survives that, he then follows up with a cleave. When Sukuna can use neither, he switches to World Dismantle because it's the strongest of his slash attacks. It's the ace before the true trump card.

Above, Kusakabe used Simple Domain to weaken c/d (to a degree).

When Higuruma neutralized c/d with domain amplification, Sukuna then switched to using WD until Higuruma's DA had worn off. Sukuna then killed Higuruma with normal cleaves.

Maki has passed Sukuna's tests and dealt with all three slash attacks.

Maki quickly avoided dismantle.

Sukuna tried to grab her and bring her in for a cleave, but she overpowered and threw him.

Sukuna then tried his ace, but she effortlessly dodged that as well, even with her vision obscured and him whispering the chant.

Only Maki has survived all three and drawn Sukuna's interests. He's now going to get serious for the first time since Gojo.

Sukuna has followed the same tactics throughout the entire series. He tests an opponent with c/d, then saves black box as an ultimate trump card. Sadly, most of the cast dies before they can make it past c/d. With WD recently introduced, it's only another level added before the opponent can reach black box. Yuta healed through c/d, but was sliced open with WD.

With Sukuna's comment about Mahoraga, and reflecting on his fights thus far, one can clearly see that Sukuna views cleave and dismantle as his fodder killing CTs. His slash attacks are quick, adaptable, and invisible. The only way for a sorcerer to survive them would be healing or having a strong defense, but that's still not enough.

Thankfully, Maki's not a sorcerer. She's a monster. And now the two monsters will duke it out, with Sukuna using his real cursed technique for the first time since chapter 119.

Notes:

If Gojo could see cleave and dismantle, one of them would have commented on it. Gojo obviously could not see Mahoraga's dismantle either, and Sukuna used that as his model for world dismantle.

Higuruma was able to neutralize c/d, but Sukuna was still able to use world dismantle. Could someone explain if Higuruma's domain amplification had worn off, or should we understand that WD was simply too strong to be neutralized? This was answered above.

There's a narrative significance to Sukuna comparing Maki to Mahoraga (don't come at me with powerscaling bs). As I've argued in my last Maki post, she's exemplifies the ultimate anti-sorcerer, while Sukuna's the ultimate sorcerer. Mahoraga's an anti-sorcery curse, meant to adapt to any and all phenomena, so of course they'd be connected. Maki must adapt in her fights against sorcerers capable of any and all phenomena, and I think that's a hint for her upcoming duel against Sukuna.

#jjk manga #jjk 252 #jjk 253 #jujutsu kaisen #maki zenin #ryomen sukuna #gojo satoru #jjk spoilers #jjk

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lionsongfr · 13 days

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Dusthide Headcanon

I shall admit I was more than a little disappointed that the new breed doesn’t have lore, and it stifled my anticipation for them. But then, the new breed arrived and I realized, horribly, dreadfully, happily realized, that I can make my own headcanons. So my headcanon for the new breed is:

DUSTHIDES ARE ENEMIES/RIVALS/COMPETITION TO SNAPPERS.

When Earthshaker made Snappers he gave them powerful jaws which have a “crushing force of their beak is enough to shatter the scales and armored plating of most species”. Now then, which breeds have armored plating? Guardians yes and maybe other Snappers, Gaolers can have Scorpion and Undertides have Plating, but that is pretty much it. As to beast enemies? Forgotten Cave’s Corpse Cleaners and Reef/Dragon Snails come to mind, but most of the others are squishy (though the Burrow Bears can be a bit…prickly).

So then we have the Dusthides and they are just covered in plating. They are a competitive breed, an aggressive scrap loving breed. They are territorial, preferring to stay in their tunnel networks. Snappers “do not seek confrontation”, they travel the majority of their lives and have difficulty with living in closed spaces. Snappers live above the Earth, Dusthides below. Yet there must have been conflict.

Snapper battle tactics are “trampling smaller foes beneath their bulk or using their powerful jaws to snap them out of the air”. Dusthides are smaller than Snappers, they “roll up until only their armored plates are exposed”, and use their wings to make short explosive jumps of movement. Perfect targets for those snapping jaws and stomping claws. However, Snappers have a weakness. “When confronted with overwhelming odds, Snappers will lower themselves to the ground, protecting their underbellies.” A soft underbelly is a perfect target for a burrowing dragon, or worse yet, the Dusthide’s like to modify the terrain with “pitfalls to surprise opponents”. These battle tactics suggest a competitive evolution between the two.

Snappers have an encyclopedic memory in order to remember which Dusthide territories to avoid. They rarely stop moving because Dusthide tunnels may lie below. I headcanon that Snappers have the ability to “listen” with their drum like feet (like elephants) and can speak long distances to their brethren with low-frequency sounds. But what if they are listening for other sounds? Like the sounds of digging beneath their toes?

The Dusthides have arisen from their tunnels due to “recent spikes in tectonic activity”, but the Earth Snappers have always known of them and the Dusthides have known of them. Stories and information play a big part in both breeds, there must have been whispered tales of these hidden dragons beneath the soil, fierce, proud, and territorial. Tales warning telling dragons to not dig so deep, to watch where one steps, to be loyal to one another, and never fight with the dragons beneath the Earth.

#Flight rising #dusthide #snapper #FR headcanon #my headcanon #battle #fight #Earth Flight #Earth Snappers are like “these dragons are now everyones problems now”#lore

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sarioh · 2 years

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there's something martyn said about bdubs on stream once that really resonated with me, which was that bdubs above all else is really good at making a landmark. like, there's loads of memorable builds each season, yet all of bdubs' bases have ended up being some of the most narratively important and unforgettable ones, either in name or uniqueness or locality or some Cataclysmic Event that took place there.

we all know bdubs for his unwavering loyalty towards his partner, but what about to his base? regardless of any alliances he strikes or destroys, or what impending danger is looming outside his door, he will NEVER be driven from his home. he refused to leave the snowfort as a red life, and in every season so far, bdubs died and went red inside his base. in 3rd life, he walked into the most Obvious lava trap since he knew it meant he would turn red and be able to protect cleo. in last life, he insisted on staying to fight the wither, a battle which was So glaringly futile. and in double life, the session was over and he had the choice to log out, but instead decided to fight as a final stand in defense of his home.

his builds have also all been a weirdly perfect reflection of his relationship with his respective partners. the crastle, which stood strong until the end, was defensible and steadfast and paranoid. the snowfort, beset by tragedy, was tactical and mismatched and the ultimate personification of Compromise, with the ever-changing spruce stairs and the dividing fence and the snow walls that were supposed to be netherwart. the mid-century modern house, innocent and domestic, was warm and inviting yet still bruised and insecure, built out of the same materials as his last life base and hiding a wall of other couples to break up.

ultimately the reason bdubs is So Good at making a landmark is because his builds are such a perfect representation of the unyielding and often self-destructive devotion that is so innate to his character. he throws all of himself into his bases just like he does for his partners, to the point where they are equally as inseparable from who he is as a person. he will lovingly and meticulously spend 5 episodes building a home just to die in it, in the same way that he will build a relationship just to die for them. ok im done

#sorry for the essay. im unwell #i dont think any of this makes sense at all i just needed to say words #actually dont read this its embarrassing #bdoubleo100 #double life smp #last life smp #third life smp #rio posts #meta

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your-eternal-lies · 1 month

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LOVE IS A CHOICE (chapter five - finale)

Main Navigation || Please follow @your-eternal-library for all my fanfiction updates.

PAIRING — Bucky Barnes x Agent f!Reader SERIES SUMMARY — In your experience, relationships only bring drama and heartbreak, and you want absolutely none of it. That is, until an act of sheer recklessness brings Bucky Barnes back into your life.

WARNINGS — Angst, more blood and injury, devastating revelations (but nothing we didn’t already know!), and if it’s any consolation, I concluded this on a happy note with some fluff and a non-explicit smut scene at the very end. That’s pretty much it!

LOVE IS A CHOICE

CHAPTER FIVE (finale)

Bucky’s metal arm whirrs with a barely audible hum, the vibranium plates shifting to optimize for combat as he steps into the fray. Bullets splinter the air, a savage symphony of chaos and destruction. His instincts, honed through countless battles, snap into focus as he catches a glint of danger in his periphery.

With one fluid motion, propelled by a potent blend of adrenaline and fear for someone other than himself, he lunges. The Hydra agents, clad in their nondescript tactical gear, might as well be faceless nameless drones, but each represents a threat to you and your safety.

And he can’t have that. In the shattered peace of the northern Canadian wilderness, he becomes the storm.

He runs out of bullets pretty fast, so he tosses his rifle aside and lets his fists do the rest. They come down on his enemies like iron, his movements a blur—a dance of destruction honed by decades of stride.

The air is filled with the clamour of combat, grunts and thuds of flesh and cracking bones, punctuated by the sharp cracks of splintering wood as his precious cabin bears witness to a battle between his indomitable will and a relentless tide of adversaries.

Bucky fights with the ferocity of a man who knows the stake of every punch thrown, every kick landed. Each surge of his enhanced muscles, every pivot and parry, speaks to a silent promise he’s made to the woman in the cabin behind him—a vow to protect, to endure, to never yield until the cavalry of red, white, and blue storms over the horizon.

“Come on, Steve,” he mutters under his breath, keeping one eye above the tree line. He can almost picture Steve’s disapproving frown at the recklessness he knows all too well in himself, but for Bucky there’s no room for doubt or hesitation.

He will not fall, not when the mission of his life is on the line.

“Stand down, Soldat,” one of the agents has the audacity to admonish him, pointing a rifle right at Bucky’s forehead. The latter practically growls, his chest swelling with a sense of satisfaction at the way the agent takes an uneasy step backwards.

“That’s not my name,” Bucky snarls, his metal hand darting out so quick that the agent doesn’t have the time to register the movement. He grasps the barrel of the rifle, easily twisting it backwards and rendering the weapon utterly useless.

His other arm then swings in a wide arc, his fist connecting with the agent’s jaw in a grim percussion of bone and sinew. His focus is sharp, each movement calculated, as he pivots and delivers a kick that sends another agent flying across the clearing.

Suddenly, his thoughts loop back to Alpine’s serene gaze, one that’s saved him so many times since he’s come here. To Steve’s brotherly admonition, ones that always made him roll his eyes but smile at the same time. To you; a vision of your gentle eyes, the melodic cadence of your voice, and the feel of your lips against his.

It’s for you, all of you—a feline’s contented purr, a friend’s unwavering loyalty, and a lover’s unspoken pact, all rolled up in the promise of warmth—that Bucky wills his body to endure, to become both shield and sworn against the encroaching darkness.

Blood slicks his knuckles, the skin there now split and raw, his breathes coming out in harsh drags, hot and ragged against the winter chill.

Keep them safe. Those three words are a mantra that pulses in his veins, louder than the ringing in his ears, more insistent than the fatigue that claws at his limbs.

But then a sharp pain blossoms across his ribcage, one Hydra agent having found purchase with a serrated blade. Bucky grunts, twisting away, pressing his hand against the wound. The sensation of being outgunned begins to settle like lead in his gut, and he scans for an opening, any respite, but finds none.

A searing heat lances through his thigh, a bullet finding its mark despite his enhanced reflexes. The force staggers him, and for a moment, the battle dims to a distant thunder. Bucky drops to one knee, feeling the warm wetness spreading down his leg, the coppery scent of his own life force spilling onto the snow.

He clutches at the wound, his face contorting in not just pain, but in a sudden, piercing fear.

It cuts deeper than any knife, more devastating than any bullet—the realization that he might not walk away from this, that the story he shares with you might end in a cold and lonely epilogue.

Bucky thought he had been prepared to die for you out here, if it meant buying the rest of the team enough time. But damn it, he almost laughs, he’s afraid.

After all this time, after all those days wishing he were dead, the will to live strikes him like a lightning bolt. He wants to finish this, to go back to you and reaffirm the words he’d been so scared to say to you in New York, but had come so easily in the moments just before he left you under the trap door.

He wants your mornings, your touches, to turn those dreams of his that always seemed so distant into reality.

And so he embraces the fear and pushes the doubt aside, buries it beneath layers of sheer grit and will, pushing against the ever-present spectre whispering of rest. He can’t stop here, not yet.

Bucky rises once more to meet the onslaught. The air is thick with the scent of carbon and burning flames, and although the odds are daunting, relief suddenly floods his veins. There is a rumbling just beyond the trees, the ground beneath him quaking from the force of an impending arrival.

A shadow sweeps over the battlefield, massive and imposing, a familiar silhouette of salvation. Bucky looks up through lashes wet with sweat and blood, just as the sleek shape of a quinjet cuts across the night sky, a beacon of hope amidst the chaos.

The Avengers are here.

Bucky continues to fight, not just for life, but for every memory yet to be made, for every smile you might grace him with, for every gentle touch of Alpine against his skin, all in a world where peace is more than just a fleeting dream.

For the chance to love again, without the shadow of grief and guilt looming over him. Because while there’s so much worth dying for, there is infinitely more worth living for.

The roar of the quinjet’s engines drown out the symphony of battle. Steve, of course, is the first to emerge, his shield a bright disk against the gloom, catching the light as if to banish the darkness that’s come to consume his friend.

Close behind, Sam soars under the cover his mechanical wings, a guardian angel clad in steel and resolve. Wanda’s crimson energy dances at her fingertips, her eyes glowing red as she rains hell down on her foes, barely a foot out of the jet’s doors.

Natasha’s movements are a silent ballet, deadly and precise, while Clint’s arrows never fail to find their marks. Even Tony Stark, encased in his gleaming red and gold armour, lands with a ground-shaking thud, his repulsors already humming with lethal intent.

Together, the team moves as one. Bucky watches, his breath hitching, the weight of his body dangerously tempted to yield to the exhaustion, as his comrades turn the tide.

Clint lands at his side, and despite the circumstances, cracks a smile. “C’mon, Tin Man, hold yourself together.”

“Ugh, you’re about damn fucking time,” Bucky groans. He will never admit it, but he’s never been happier to see Clint or his dumb little smirk.

“Tony, Sam, secure the perimeter,” Steve calls out, his voice a steady drumbeat against the turmoil. The two don’t need to be told twice before they’re flying off, taking down more agents on the way like they’re nothing more than falling autumn leaves.

“Natasha,” Bucky manages, his voice hoarse with exertion and urgency. “She’s in the cabin. Keep her safe.”

“Already on it,” she replies, her tone sharp and sure as the knives at her belt. She slips away like a wraith, darting towards the wooden sanctuary where you remain hidden from the carnage, her red hair flying in the wind behind her.

The fight rages on, but now with the might of the Avengers tipping the scales. Bucky feels the burden on his shoulders ease every so slightly, even as his body protests each movement. He fights with the knowledge that you will be safe, that Natasha will guard you with the same ferocity with which he’s been battling.

Together, the team turns the tide, the remaining Hydra agents falling one by one until the forest floor lays littered with the vanquished. Bucky stands amidst the ruin, his breaths coming out in shallow gasps, the world around him narrowing to pinpricks of light against a closing curtain of darkness.

His muscles tremble with the aftershocks of battle; each heartbeat deafeningly loud in his own ears, drowning out the distant calls and quiet chatter of his teammates as they finish securing the perimeter.

Bucky sways on his feet, battered, bruised, and spent, allowing himself a moment to lean on the strength of his friends. Suddenly, he lies sprawled in the snow, feeling the cool embrace of the earth beneath him. The edges of Bucky’s vision frays, pulling at the seams of consciousness.

Steve is at his side in an instant, eyes etched with concern as he implores, “Stay with us, bud.”

It’s then, among the invading shadows, that a piercing cry shatters the air—a siren’s call that claws its way through the haze.

“Bucky!” It’s you, your voice laced with terror and something that sounds a lot like love, a symphony that plays upon the most vulnerable strings of his battered heart. In that moment, before the void can swallow him whole, Bucky finds the strength in the resonance of your call.

He fights against the pull of darkness, wanting nothing more than to get up, to reassure you with a soft touch, a gentle word, anything. But his limbs betray him, heavy as lead and twice as cold.

“Bucky, I’m here!” He hears you again, his body jostled as you slide into the snow next to him. He feels your hands on his face, your tears splashing onto his cheeks.

And then, surrendering to the exhaustion, Bucky allows the darkness to envelop him, the echo of your voice a lullaby that carries him toward the uncertain embrace of sleep.

The sleek doors to the compound hiss open, revealing an expanse of a room that could swallow modest homes whole. There’s a hum in the air, the kind that smells like money and buzzes with gadgets that probably haven’t even hit the market yet. Floor-to-ceiling glass walls offer a greedy view of the Manhattan skyline in the distance, but none of that holds her attention.

Natasha Romanoff stands there, the sterile scent of antiseptic wafting through the dimly lit medical wing. She glides between the beds until she reaches your bedside, a tangle of wires and monitors attached to your unconscious figure. You stir, lashes fluttering as if you can feel her next to you.

“Bucky?” You ask, your first thought not for yourself but for him.

“He’s in the other room,” Natasha replies, her tone even, betraying none of the concern within her emerald eyes. “They’re patching him up. Super soldier serum works wonders.”

“And Alpine?”

“I’m assuming that’s the cat,” Natasha cracks a tiny smile, “Tony’s keeping her company. I think he’s taken a liking to her.”

The redhead sits on the edge of your bed, her posture impeccable, and yet somehow still conveying the weariness in her shoulders. A thick and heavy silence suddenly falls between you, and you can’t help but tense under her scrutiny.

“Natasha, I—” you begin, but she holds up a hand, interrupting the apologies you’re ready to spill forth.

“Going rogue on that mission,” she starts, her voice soft but firm, “because you did technically go rogue, kroshka, was more than reckless. Your behaviour’s becoming a pattern; I thought it’d be better to give you some space, some time to work through everything that’s happened, but it’s just getting worse.”

There’s a maternal edge to her admonishment, tempered by an understanding of someone who had once danced on the knife’s edge of danger herself. It’s why your gaze falls away, the heat of shame crawling up your neck.

You know you’ve made a mistake, that your impulsive decision had almost cost you everything. “I know,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, “and I put Bucky at risk too.”

The confession is a small surrender, the first verbal acknowledgement of the fragility that lays beneath your normally hardened exterior. Natasha reaches out, her hand resting lightly on yours, a silent reassurance on top of the regret.

“Almost didn’t make it out this time,” Natasha continues. The subtext is clear: she could ill afford to lose you, not to death, nor to the darkness that seems to claw at your soul.

“It won’t happen again,” you promise, looking her straight in the eye. She holds your gaze for a few seconds, and even though she has every right to, there’s not a single trace of doubt in her eyes.

“Good,” she says, squeezing your hand, her lips curving up into the smallest of smiles. It’s only then that you notice she’s holding a tablet in her other hand, cradled carefully in her lap. Her eyes follow your gaze and she inhales sharply, the air in the room shifting as her sisterly demeanour is replaced by that of an agent’s.

“What is it?” You ask, watching as her fingers dance across the screen. She angles it toward you, casting a pale glow against the sheets.

“We found this at the Hydra base,” Natasha says, turning her eyes away from the screen and back onto you. You watch, breath hitching as the grainy footage sputters to life. The video shows a hauntingly familiar corridor, and there he is—the Winter Soldier, a phantom from the past, his metal arm gleaming as he dispatches guard after guard with ruthless efficiency.

“Natasha, I can’t…” your voice trails off, strangled by the lump forming in your throat. The images of your own gaunt figure lying limp in Natasha’s arms comes into view, all the while the Soldier moved with a singular purpose, stepping into harm’s path so you can make your escape. “Nat, you couldn’t have known. We… we barely made it out of there as it was.”

“Should’ve known,” she retorts, more to herself than you. Her words are steeped in self-reproach; for the Black Widow to overlook the details was not something that occurred often. “He was there, fighting for us—for you—and I didn’t even sense it.”

“I guess even the best of us have our blind spots.” You try to joke, but it lands totally flat.

“I guess so,” she agrees, never taking her eyes off you, the underlying meaning of her words suddenly making you emotional.

“Were you ever going to tell me he was there?” She asks, but her voice holds no malice. In fact, you see regret in her eyes too, another reason for all those years of secrecy. Your heart clenches at the idea of stirring up ghosts that haunt Bucky, but it cracks under the thought that it might do the same for Natasha.

You shake your head, admitting you would have taken it to your grave if you could. Your sister looks crushed, one of her hands coming to rest against the side of your head.

“Why do you always suffer alone, little sister?”

“Because some secrets are worth enduring for.”

She doesn’t argue with you there. “You have to tell him, at least.”

You scoff, turning away and pulling your blanket over your head. She’s having none of it, yanking it off you with surprising force. “Hey, I’m injured here!”

“He needs to know, kroshka,” Natasha insists, her earnest gaze piercing through your defences. “He needs to know that not all of his past is soaked in blood. That even in the darkest of times, he did something good, something noble.”

Your chest grows heavy with sadness, the walls of the infirmary seeming to close in as the truth looms large over the both of you.

“How can I?” Your voice trembles, your eyes glazing over with tears. “After everything he’s been through, how can I dredge up those memories? They’re just echoes, Natasha. Echoes of a person he doesn’t even remember being.”

“Because,” she replies, her voice softening. “He needs to hear the truth, and he deserves to hear it from you.”

Right on cue, the door to the infirmary slides open with a hushed whirr, and your conversation falls into a startled hush. Bucky stands at the threshold, his posture the embodiment of recovered strength, the super soldier serum having mended his flesh and bones with uncanny speed.

His eyes, however, bear the weight of experiences that no serum could erase. Still, he tries to smile for you. “Hey there.”

Your heart stutters at the sight of him, every wound on your body protesting as you attempt to sit up. Natasha places a gentle hand on your shoulder, easing you back onto the pillows.

“Take it easy,” Natasha advises, a knowing smile gracing her lips. “He’s not going anywhere.”

“Romanoff,” Bucky nods in acknowledgement, his glance briefly meeting hers before settling on you with an intensity that seems to anchor you both to the spot.

“I’ll give you two a moment,” Natasha says, her voice a mere thread of sound in the charged atmosphere of the room. Her steps are silent as she crosses the space between you, and before she exits, she pauses at the door, her hand lingering on the frame.

She turns to share a final look with you, a silent exchange fraught with meaning. You know what it means even without saying anything; it’s a look that implores you to embrace the vulnerability of truth, and a look that promises, no matter what the outcome, that she would never leave you to face the storm alone.

With one last nod, she steps out into the hallway, leaving you and Bucky enveloped in the aftermath of her departure. You watch as Bucky approaches carefully, his broad shoulders squared, his footsteps measured.

“Hey,” he says again, “how are you feeling?”

“Fine,” you reply as he sits down in a chair next to your bed. He reaches out and gently brushes a stray lock of hair from your face. “A little morphine makes everything a lot better.”

Bucky grins, but it falters after a second or two. “About what happened back at the cabin…”

I love you.

Sometimes, I get the strangest feeling that I have for a really long time.

You look away, the vulnerability in his voice making your stomach lurch. It’s only been a few hours, and yet it feels like a lifetime ago.

“I don’t want you to feel pressured to… to say anything. Nothing has to change,” he says, his gaze steadfast and tender. “But I want you to know I meant it. Every word.”

You remember how he was like the last time he was in New York, his always solitary figure against the chaos of the city, a man out of time seeking a place in a world that had moved on without him.

He’s stronger than you will ever be, but in that moment, emboldened by his admission, you reach for the tablet Natasha left behind. You activate the screen, before hesitating for another moment.

“What’s wrong?” Bucky asks, sitting a little straighter in his chair.

Maybe nothing, maybe everything, you think, your throat tight as you hand the tablet to him. His eyes widen as the images play out before him—the Winter Soldier, relentless and lethal, cutting down Hydra agents with a precision that chills blood.

But there, in the carnage, is a sliver of humanity. He, usually the harbinger of death, had in a single moment turned saviour for two women ensnared by the same darkness that had once claimed him.

“But that’s…” Bucky starts, wanting to say that’s impossible. “I… I don’t remember this.”

“That’s you,” you say softly, your fingers tracing the outline of his face on the screen. “You saved us. You saved me.”

His hand shakes as he sets the device down, the wind knocked from his lungs as realization dawned. “How can I not remember?”

“Because they didn’t want you to,” you tell him, your own heart aching with the burden of his forgotten moment of heroism. “But it’s true. That was all you… the part of you that Hydra could never touch. Even then.”

For a moment, silence stretches between you, filled with the ghosts of a shared history. But then the dam bursts, tears betraying your formerly stoic facades, tracing paths down your weathered cheeks.

“Forgive me,” he pleads, taking your hand and pressing your fingertips to his lips, because while he had forgotten, you had remembered every agonizing second. “I should have known sooner. I should have remembered you.”

“Don’t do that to yourself,” you tell him, but you can see the self-reproach clinging to him like a second skin. “I’m the one who should be ashamed. You’re always there, always pulling me back from the brink. And I—”

Your voice breaks, the weight of a confession years in the making pressing down upon your chest.

“I don’t deserve how you see me. You think I’m strong, capable, but I’m not. I’m just… broken.” The word falls from your lips like the final verdict of a long fought battle, more tears escaping your eyes and dripping onto your pillow.

“What? No—”

“I’m always the one needing saving,” you interject, a hint of desperation lacing your words. “You, Natasha, and even Steve. You’ve all saved me and I can’t ever do a damn thing for you.”

“You done more than enough.” Bucky’s brow creases with concern, his expression crumbling, his hand reaching out before resting on top of yours.

“How can you love someone like me? I’m nothing. I’m nobody. I don’t even have a name.” All the years of buried feelings, what was crammed into a tiny little box and shoved into the furthest corners of your mind, come rushing forth. “I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you.”

Bucky looks into your eyes, watching as the last light from the setting sun is replaced with the twinkle of the night stars, the both of you searching for absolution in the other.

“You’re wrong,” he whispers, hearing your deepest fears and wishing he could take the all away. “You see weakness, I see strength. You see shame, but I see bravery. You think you’re broken, but to me, you are… everything.”

Damn it all. He’s smiling at you, really smiling, as if with each word the burden lifts from the depths of his soul. And while your rattled brain is constantly telling you that you aren’t worthy, that he deserves more than the mere remnants of a broken woman, your heart screams something else.

It calls for him. It tells you to stay. Because if you can’t trust the world to make him happy, then you would have to do it yourself. And wouldn’t that be the best thing? To know that you, of all people, a nobody from nowhere, could make him happy?

“I love you too,” you whisper, your hands stroking his face, your eyes shining as he presses his forehead to yours. “If you’ll still have me.”

He clutches onto you like you’re the only source of the air that he breathes, like he can’t bear to let you go.

“Ah, darlin’,” he says, leaning forward to press the achingly lovely curve of his lips to yours, his whispers muffled against your scared watery smile. “It’s you. It’s always been you.”

And then he’s in your arms. You kiss him once, twice, and then a third time, and you know then that this is the beginning—or rather, the continuation—of something amazing.

As he whispers love onto your skin, he etches onto your heart that love isn’t about deserving.

It’s about choosing, again and again.

And no matter how many times you fall apart or have to put yourself back together, you will always choose Bucky Barnes.

. ONE YEAR LATER

You are stunning.

It’s the only thought Bucky has as he lies back against the pillows, your hands on top of his as he grips your quaking thighs. The cabin, now restored to its former glory and moved to a new secret location, is warm—he’s made sure of it, spent a good ten minutes stoking the fire in its stone hearth just a few feet away, but he watches in awe as his touch raises goosebumps all over your skin.

Your eyes are wild beneath your hair as you straddle his hips, drawing a shuddering breath from your sweet and always gentle lover. You slide up and down the length of him, your most intimate places pressed together, his grip on your thighs tightening just a touch.

He’s doing okay until you take him in, slowly, and then rotate your hips, head thrown back and your back arched in pleasure. Bucky gasps, sitting up in a flash and holding you tight.

“Too much?” You ask in a breathless whisper, your breath quickening as his hands stroke the base of your spine.

“Too fast,” he chuckles, his words muffled against the delicate curve of your shoulder. He kisses you there sweetly before pulling back enough to look into your face. He wants to make this last, even if it kills him.

“Then we don’t have to—” You start to say, but then he’s lifting you up… and then back down… so slowly, so deliciously glorious, you can feel your toes start to curl. Your hands grip his strong shoulders, moving with him at the pace he’s set, chest to chest.

“Do you want to stop?” He asks, mischief and mirth laced in his voice. You reach up to thread your fingers into his hair and pull, just hard enough to make him hiss, before looking down at him with a smile.

“If you stop, I’ll actually pummel you,” you laugh, the sound unfamiliar even to you, but a sweet warmth spreads through your veins. You didn’t know you could laugh again, after all that, but Bucky just has this way of tearing down your walls, of making you feel things you didn’t think you’d ever feel again.

“Whatever my darlin’ wants, my darlin’ gets,” Bucky grins as he tilts you back, following you down onto his linen sheets. He settles on top of you, pressing your knees to the bed. Only when you’re whimpering and clawing at his back does he thrust himself all the way inside, right up to the hilt.

With a cry of his name, you grab at his hips to draw him in, so deep you swear you can feel him right against your beating heart. Bucky buries his face in the crook of your neck, his moist breath gliding over the column of your throat as he speeds up his movements, but still carefully controlled, not stopping even as he feels you begin to spend.

It’s not until your arms squeeze him tighter, until a sweet scream falls from your lips, your muscles undulating like rolling ocean waves around him, that he finally lets himself go.

When he can finally feel his limbs again, he pulls back and you’re smiling at him. Tears, despite himself, well up as he presses a kiss to your lips. The sight is becoming more frequent, and each time you grace him with it, he has to admit it still makes him a little breathless.

Outside the cabin, his sanctuary that he now eagerly shares with you, the snow continues to fall silently towards the earth. You drift off to sleep next to him, your hand on his chest, right over his heart. He watches you for a few seconds, his own eyelids growing heavy. He blinks slowly, wanting to savour this moment.

He vows to make you breakfast in the morning, to make a batch of fresh rolls just as you are being pulled from the lulls of sleep, with Alpine watching almost protectively from her usual spot.

He promises to call Steve after, to let him know that you’re both settling in nicely in your new home, and that Natasha can stop sending him about a dozen daily text messages requesting status updates.

He swears that he will one day have the courage to take out the velvet box tucked away in one of the drawers somewhere, and ask you for a yes or no answer. But tonight, he’s content to drift off to sleep beside you—warm, loved, and happy.

When Bucky opens his eyes the next morning, you are still there, and he remembers this time. He doesn’t just know; he remembers.

And the sky is new.

Fin.

Taglist — @cjand10 @pbs-theundeadmaggot @nerdreader @crist1216

Notes — I said I was gonna wait until Friday to post, but eff that lol. I couldn’t wait to share this finale.

So, this story turned into something totally different than what was originally conceived. I don’t know why or how. It was always intended to only have five chapters though, and I supposed I technically could have stretched it out into six parts, but I ultimately decided not to. I’m sorry if this isn’t what you were expecting or hoping for, but I am actually pretty okay with how it turned out in the end.

Thank you to everyone who supported my first fic! 🥹 I hope you enjoyed the angst and the brief fluff at the end! And now I can work on bringing you my rom-com Steve story, You’re Stuck With Me. Stay tuned!! 💖💖💖

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes smut #summer’s fics

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