#and it turned into two weeks of suffering | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

stariikis · 2 days

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ni-ki as your study date •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

synopsis ; the price you paid for choosing an athletic boyfriend over an academic one? no practical help when you're drowning in mysterious equations and symbols. but at least he's good at comforting the perfectionist in you.

pairing ; athletic!nishimura riki x academic achiever!reader genre ; fluff, established rs wc ; 802 warnings n notes ; dear readers, these two are mentally suffering because one doesn't care and the other cares too much! trigger warning, bio phys chem and math mentioned..

“-And during PE we played badminton, and Jake hyung was soooo bad today. He kept trying to smash but missed the shuttlecock.” Beside you, with his “I-swear-I’ll-finish-three-chapters-today” Physics textbook hardly opened to the first page, Riki doesn’t stop rambling about the various sports he’s played today. You’ve heard enough about the goals he scored during an impromptu morning game of football. The way his best friend fumbled during a badminton match. How his legs ache from standing in the sun for hours during baseball training. You’re about to tug him out the cafe by his jersey.

“Are you going to start your notes or what?” You shove him with a lighthearted tone, barely concealing the exasperation behind your words. “All that talk about wanting to finally get an A but you still keep yapping. About sports, no less.”

Riki rolls his eyes and mock-salutes in your direction. “Yes, ma’am.”

Taking a sip of your matcha latte, you sigh resolutely and return to examine various electronic configurations. Perhaps now, Riki will leave you in peace…

Only five minutes later, you’re snapped out of focus with a sheepish nudge.

“What’s a moment…” “OH my days Nishimura Riki how can you not know what a moment is that’s like basic physics you’re supposed to have known that since we started chapter TWO.”

Shrinking under your scoldings, he glances back at his textbook, reads the definition and looks back towards you. “I don’t get it.”

With another heavy sigh, you scoot closer and attempt to explain as simply as you possibly can. However, he’s deliberately distracting you, with playful caresses through your hair and touches of kisses as smooth as silk on your cheek. You’ve got to be turning a beetroot red, but you ignore the warmth spreading through your cheeks and continue on.

“Now repeat what I just said to you.” Refusing to give in to his silly antics, you cross your arms and lean back. Swiping the hair his fingers touched, not too long ago, out the way.

He pouts, knowing him acting cute is your soft spot. “That’s not fair.”

“Why?” You press, but relent and hunch back over your notes. “You know what, just focus on relearning your balanced forces. Do you remember what the principles of moments even is?” Oh wait, he doesn’t even know what a moment is. The way he blinks once at his textbook and blinks twice your way proves this.

“At this point, I’m not dead, you’re more cooked than I am. And I am cooked.”

Gasping scandalously, he whisper shouts, “You’re literally my academic goal, what are you on? I wish I had the motivation you did. Okay, more like I wish I had your grades, but we both know that’s not happening.”

He gestures to all the bruises he’s obtained over the past week, scratches and wounds that demonstrate how dedicated he is to all the sports he partakes in. They’re his own personal souveniers. Although most fade quickly, some leave scars burning in his skin, but he’s proud of them all even when you express your concern for him.

He’s always been like that. Dismissive of concerning matters because he enjoys showing people how strong he is. Internally and externally. The complete opposite of him, one Maths question you get wrong and you start questioning the very bane of your existence.

You fall into silence, looking back at your notes. You have lost track of where Chemistry starts and ends, your paper copy of the periodic table crumpled and defaced from your bursts of frustration. You may not show it, but there’s so much going on in your head it’s hard to escape the fog you’ve mentally put yourself in. With the crazy STEM course you’ve chosen, you know that you’re definitely on the train tracks with a sign pointing towards a crash site.

Either you shut yourself out and pass with flying colours, or you enjoy life and fail miserably. There’s no in between. Is it so hard to want to maintain a social life and a healthy relationship, while topping your class and achieving high honours? Perhaps it is.

Noticing your sudden stillness, Riki panics. “You’re stressing out again. Why are you stressing out again? You’re doing well. Well, compared to me. Should I just do bio? Things with numbers are always complicated..”

You laugh as he looks back at his noteless textbook.

“Anyway, I think you’re doing just fine.” Riki murmurs, massaging your back with his hand. “Don’t overwork yourself and you’ll be fine. Just like you were, and always will be. Do you want me to test you?”

“That’d be nice…” You smile, watching his eyes light up a little too eagerly when he closes his textbook. “But you’re just saying that so you don’t have to study anymore, right?”

how life be feeling rn, send prayers

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veronicaphoenix · 1 day

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the last song | n.s.

With the new album finally completed and a new song dropping in a couple of days, Noah takes his girl to the studio, hoping to show her around without the chaos of past recording days, and maybe, he can get that last song he's been dreaming of.

one shot ✨ | noah sebastian x fem.reader word count: 2.3k tags: established relationship, fluff, fluffy sexual content (it's not too explicit), reader has a slight kink for noah's silver chain (who doesn't, let's be honest), no trigger warnings, just noah being in love and being loved back.

The studio is finally empty.

After weeks of relentless work and dedication, days blurring into nights, headaches, frustration, last-minute changes, and ups and downs not only in the sounddeck, but also in the mood of the whole team, the album was finally ready, and in a matter of days, new music would fill spaces beyond the studio’s confines.

Noah steps aside to let her in. She is enveloped in the grandeur of the space. Never before had she been in a recording studio, and its magnitude overwhelms her. The expanse stretches out before her, a labyrinth of hallways leading into rooms of creativity. There are framed records adorning the walls, a testament to the artistry that thrives within these walls. This feels like the type of place Noah would call home. Too bad she hasn’t fully realized yet that his home is her,no matter how many hours he’s spent away from her locked in this very right place.

While she is fascinated by the array of instruments, cables, and other things she doesn’t know the name of, it’s Noah himself who captivates her the most. His joy is palpable as he gives gently explanations about the use of each room, each instrument. His enthusiasm is infectious. He’s so eager to share his world with her.

This is one of the reasons why she’s so in love with him.

His passion.

And she is lucky enough that he’s equally passionate about music as he is about her.

Taking her hand, he leads her from one room to another, continuing his explanations and sharing curiosities about this and that, mentioning the guys, the places where each one usually sits while they review the recordings, the Starbucks cups that pile up in the corner of a table when they’ve been locked in there for twelve hours and start to suffer the effects of not seeing the sunlight or hearing the sounds of the outside world, anecdotes that ignite her laughter, a sound that makes Noah’s heart flutter.

She asks him about the new music, she pleads to hear at least one song, a piece, ten seconds. Nearly begs him. She knows she just has to utter the word “please” and Noah will give her anything she wants. This evening, she wants to hear the melodic cascade of his voice, get lost in the way Noah turns words into dreamy melodies. It’s not enough to hear him speak; she wants to hear him weave words into a song; she wants to drown in the melodies he has put into lyrics that speak of her, of the moments when they are stripped of all mundanity, of clothes and fear, when they are alone, skin to skin, and when all that can be heard is only the rhythm of their beating hearts and the symphony of their shared passion.

He insists he can’t. He wants it to be a surprise. He has hopes that when she listens to the album, one or two songs will get her on her knees, while others will lead her to beg him to fuck her to the cadence of those.

Embedded within the lyrics of the new songs are a few confessions, but there’s a time for those to reach her ears, and it’s not tonight.

He silences his phone and sets it aside while she occupies herself by tinkering with the buttons on the soundboard. A few minutes later, Noah sneaks up behind her, enveloping her in his warm and slipping his hands beneath the fabric of her white t-shirt.

“There’s actually... one last song missing,” he murmurs against the fragrant scent of her hair.

“One last song?” She asks, her curiosity piqued. She begins to turn round, but Noah holds her in place. He rests his head on her shoulder, and with a trail of his fingers along the curve of her stomach, he elicits a subtle shiver that she tries to ignore. “I thought you said the album was complete, that you had finished...”

“Not quite yet,” he replies, planting a ghostly kiss on her earlobe.

She can sense the cool, minty breath against her neck, and it sends a shiver down her spine. He has been indulging in a mint candy, and her mind wanders to the tantalizing thought of having his mouth between her legs at this moment. The idea of that refreshing sensation sends a rush of desire coursing through her veins, and she can’t help but wonder if it would be enough to push her over the edge.

She smells of jasmine and the promise of spring. He wants to inhale her, breathe her in.

Concerned, she wriggles in his embrace until she can face him, stepping back a few paces as she speaks. She wants him to take her seriously.

“I didn’t know, Noah. I wouldn’t have asked you to bring me here if you were still in the middle of—”

With a single step, he reaches her again, his smile widening at her endearing bewilderment. He captures her lips in a kiss, stealing her breath away. The taste of the candy is still on his lips, and his fresh breath enters her mouth as their lips part.

It’s in the way their mouths fit together that she finds reassurance that they’re perfect for each other. She knows she’s found the boy of her dreams, and the mere thought of being apart from him feels unbearable. She doesn’t know how she will survive next time he goes away on tour. For now, she will live in the way his tender kisses have a way of evolving into passionate bites that ignite a delightful flutter in her stomach.

“You’re adorable,” he says over her lips.

For a moment, she feels dizzy. Then, with a determined frown, she grabs a handful of Noah’s black hoodie, attempting to appear assertive, though to Noah, she resembles nothing more than an adorable kitten.

“You told me the album was complete, that you would only bring me here once the work was done and this was empty so that you could let me explore and touch things and…”

“And record the last song,” Noah interjects calmly, looking into her eyes, smile tugging at his lips.

Her brow furrows even deeper, her head tilting slightly to the side as Noah’s gaze traces the contours of her face, his eyes filled with admiration for every freckle, that little ever so tiny scar earned in a childhood adventure, the faint blush spreading through her cheeks.

“Noah, I don’t understand.”

“Let me show you…”

With her skin already responding to the anticipation, Noah’s hands find their way under her t-shirt, caressing the skin of her sides. It’s always just one touch and she’s already putty in his hands. She can’t help it; the man has that effect on her, that power over her. She would give him the world if she could because no one ever makes her feel as cherished he does.

So, when he gently lifts her t-shirt, after worshipping her with light, seductive kisses along her neck and jawline, she allows him to undress her. His lips touch her shoulder, his tongue tracing a slow path until it finds the pulsing vein of her neck. A sharp intake of breath escapes her lips as he tenderly sucks at her skin, his fingers expertly finding their way beneath her skirt and underwear, eliciting a low, sweet moan from deep within her.

It’s the first of many moans to come.

Noah smiles against her flushed skin. His cock twitches. His heartbeat races.

The music is playing now.

He showers her with kisses, his hand cradling the side of her face as he traces a line with his finger from between her legs, through the valley of her breasts, up to her clavicle.

Growing impatient, she tugs at his hoodie, and sensing her urgency, he assists her in removing it. Underneath, Noah wears a black tank top, and her eyes immediately gravitate to the silver chain adorning his neck, previously hidden by the hoodie. With a heated spark in her eyes, she hesitates for a moment before seizing the chain and pulling Noah down to her awaiting mouth.

With one hand clutching his chain and the other sliding to the back of his head, she revels in the sensation of his soft hair sliding between her fingers. He emanates the intoxicating scent of masculine perfume and tastes like pure adrenaline—a potent combination that renders him utterly irresistible. He’s as addictive as a man can get. He’s tall, muscular, handsome, and fucking sweet.

And best of all, he is hers.

Noah scoops her up, intending to place her atop the sound deck. It would be a great place to fuck her on, but he quickly realizes it wouldn’t be comfortable at all, and he doesn’t want her to get hurt.

He pivots towards the couch—a place where he had envisioned her countless times before… Sitting there with pen and paper, crafting songs about her, he had often pictured her naked form, her eyes shimmering with anticipation, beckoning him to find his place between her legs, to envelop her with his body, to fill her up with every inch of him.

With care, he lays her down on the couch, positioning one knee on the cushions to remain close to her, determined to prolong their kiss for as long as possible. He doesn’t think he can breathe without her nearby.

She is never shy when it comes to showing how much she wants him, how much she needs him. She’s unapologetically about her desperate desire, and that’s something that drives him to the brink of madness. Her eagerness only serves to make her so fucking attractive that he thinks he could eat her up. He’s consumed by that need, to bite and taste her in a surge of primal instinct, yet he manages to maintain a sweet and seductive demeanor. She brings out both the beast and the tender lover in him, and somehow, it’s a harmonious blend that feels inexplicably beautiful.

With each touch, nibble, and kiss, her passionate responses start escaping from her lips, wet with lust for him. Their clothes disappear in a matter of minutes, and as Noah finds himself —and his skilled tongue— nestled between her legs, savoring her essence, and impregnating her with his fresh minty breath, the symphony of his name being carried through long feminine moans fill the studio walls in ways he could never have imagined.

But it’s when he’s buried deep inside her that the music truly comes alive.

Together, they create a melody of ecstasy, Noah playing her body like a virtuoso, eliciting the perfect notes and sounds with each touch, kiss, thrust. She’s a tangled delicious mess beneath him, but every whimper and sigh and plea for more is a testament to her trust and love for him, a hymn sung in the throes of passion.

Occasionally, a primal growl escapes him, the beast within yearning to be unleashed, but she, the angel, the muse,keeps him grounded, wrapped in her wings, guiding him along the lines of their shared musical score.

As their bodies glisten with sweat, the tempo of their lovemaking begins to slow, descending from its crescendo, their ragged breaths filling the remaining spaces of their song. She smiles against his cheek, nuzzling her nose against his skin. She holds him close, unwilling to let go just yet. Unwilling to ever let go.

“So?” She murmurs, teasingly playing with her teeth on Noah’s earlobe.

He squirms in an attempt to escape her, but her teeth follow him, leaving him with no choice but to retaliate by biting her shoulder and descending to capture on of her nipples in his mouth, coaxing one new sound from her lips.

“So?” he repeats, mumbling between clenched teeth, his tongue teasing her hardened nipple.

“Did you record the song?” she asks playfully, gesturing with her eyes towards the sound deck.

“No. No, I didn’t,” he admits with a laugh, feeling himself softening inside of her.

“Oh, well…” she licks her lips, pretending to think of what to do now. The weight of Noah feels so nice on top of her that it would be enough to just keep on holding him. “What are we going to do about it?” she continues. “Any idea?”

She does have an idea.

Her cheeky tone catches him off guard, and this time, it’s him who frowns as he gazes up at her. His chest and stomach press against hers, and with each laborious breath she takes, he feels the rhythmic rise and fall of her body beneath him. He considers moving, but before he can act, she wraps her leg around his, anchoring him in place.

She bites her lip, tempting him to do the same; to lower his head and kiss her and bite her and leave her breathless.

A second later, she reaches down towards her bag on the carpeted floor beside the couch and retrieves her phone, unlocks it, and opens the voice recording app.

“Maybe we should try again, don’t you think? And perhaps we should try to be… a bit louder?”

His eyes darken.

“Think you can do that?” she asks him, a devilish smile painted on her face.

“I can definitely make you sing louder,” he growls, feeling himself hardening once more while still inside of her. His home.

She has a way of provoking him that never fails to get him hard anywhere, anytime, in no time.

“Do I… press play now?” Her fingertip hovers over the screen.

Noah responds by pulling a few inches out and thrusting hard into her, their bodies moving in perfect synchronization against the worn fabric of the sofa they are laid on. She lets out a scream as her fingertip presses the play button. The phone falls with a thud on the floor.

And with that, they’re making music once again.

One last song.

One more time.

Louder.

#inspiration was kicking in #noah sebastian #bad omens #bad omens cult #bad omens one shot #bad omens fic #bad omens fanfic #noah sebastian x you #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian one shot #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian fanfic

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dulcesiabits · 18 hours

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the sun is also a star.

summary: Literally just two drabbles of mhin with my oc Li where they try to bring her back to life when she dies because there is nothing sexier than obsession that even death cannot stop!

notes: 2.2k words, necromancy (descriptions of bodies + cleaning bones + emotional aftermath of bringing someone back to life)

i. I Put Every Bone of Yours Back in Place

There’s a certain clean beauty about bones, Mhin finds, that provide a reassuring and familiar weight to death.

There are 206 bones in an average human body. 80 of those bones make up the axial skeleton, and the remaining 126 bones make up the appendicular skeleton. But what Mhin finds most interesting is that a human is born with 270 bones. Somewhere, during the process of growth and development, those 64 bones are fused with other bones. To change, you must give something up. To live in the world means suffering losses, losses one isn’t even aware of.

Of course, the pages of an anatomical textbook don’t quite capture the reality of a human’s growth. There are always mutations and exceptions. Bones don’t always fuse properly, or someone may simply have been born with extra bones in their hands. It’s difficult to tell if those bones don’t affect the quality of life enough to warrant a checkup with a medical professional. No, it’s only after death that one can gauge the extent of their own deviancy, marked into their very core.

Li, thankfully, only has the average number of bones. Two hundred and six exactly, with no outlying pieces. That makes it easy for them to collect all parts of her. When Mhin lays them on the ground in a facsimile of a human’s shape, they can almost pretend it’s Li again. Her delicate wrist bones, the curve of each rib, the twist of her femur, set in their proper places. She’s beautiful, right down to her skeletal structure.

They wipe their forehead, but all it does is smear grime across their skin: rotten dirt and the faint tinge of death, blood from their own scraped fingers and flesh (from who or what they forget) caught under their nails. It had taken months for them to find her body, months of feverishly patrolling the wastelands, even begging Ais and his disgusting minions for help when weeks of searching turned fruitless. They weren’t above that, not even when their fists tightened at his little smirk. Ais would hold it over their head, they knew.

But all that mattered was that her body was found, monsters and scavengers having already nibbled on every tender part of her, clothing long since reduced to tags and tatters. Her bones shone like stars in the muck. She would be unrecognizable to anyone else, but not to Mhin. There was not a world in which they would not know her.

They had run to her body. Finally, here she was again, and they had fallen to their knees as they picked up her corpse, hugging it to their chest, gore slopping onto their chest, mindless to anything else. It didn’t matter if their shirt stained. It would be better if it stained, if her rotting flesh sunk into the fabric, so they would always carry her with them.

It took time to clean off the bones, too. That was the most exhausting part. To take her body with them into the city in the darkness of the night, to run each part under water, to scrape off all the distended flesh and severed skin without chipping her bones. To gently detangle chunks of yellowing brain matter from the hollow cavity of her skull, watching the flesh fall with a wet slap in the sink. To brush carefully around each opening, which were more delicate and prone to breakage. Through hardened muscle, dead nerves, and congealed blood. To watch the bones pile up, piece by piece, like snowfall, day after day.

Sometimes they had brought her skull to their face, to stare into the eye sockets, the rows of teeth. It was the first piece of her that they had saved. They could feel the memory of her warmth when they closed their eyes, concentrating on how the flesh that once stretched over her skull felt. Her scarred skin, her callouses, the freckle on her knuckle.

They pressed their lips to the hollow teeth, where lips should have been. Nothing but the taste of soap and death. Their first kiss, in months.

She loved to kiss them when she was still around. Mhin would reciprocate begrudgingly, their sour attitude doing little to deter her from throwing her arms around them and peppering their face in kisses. She was like an over eager affectionate puppy, and Mhin had never liked dogs for precisely that reason. But she was an exception, just barely.

The kiss they remembered most had been in her shitty apartment, kneeling in front of each other on faded red cushions. There was a pot of cooling oolong tea in front of them, and Li had found a veil somewhere that she had tossed over her head, just for fun, she claimed. It made her look like a ghost, the lace fluttering over her galaxy of hair.

Wedding rites for their people always involved family, from the little Mhin remembered of matrimonial customs. But neither of them had family left. All they had was each other. So for the tea drinking ceremony, they poured each other cups of steaming tea, raising it to their lips to sip. To honor the only family they had.

There were the three bows, too. But they remembered thinking, even then, that they wouldn’t bow to anyone. Not the uncaring heaven, not their distant ancestors. The only one they would bow to would be to the woman in front of them.

It was an unofficial ceremony. There was no one to proclaim that they now belonged to each other, no city to record whatever they were. But that never mattered. They didn’t need anyone else to prove their relationship was real.

This had been real. Li, in front of them. The bitter tea lingering on their tongue. The sunlight, filtering across the dusty air, making her holy.

They had pushed back her veil, then, and she had smiled mischievously as she grabbed their hand, before pulling the veil so it fell over both of them instead. A benediction, as soft as snow, covering the world in a gauzy, dream of white as she brought her lips to theirs.

The very night they finish cleaning her bones, they return to the wastelands. And now they are laying her bones down piece by piece, in correct anatomical order. They had studied their own textbooks feverishly, just to ensure they wouldn’t mess up the placement, not at this critical juncture. They count over each bone, an obsessive gesture they’ve repeated throughout the night. 206. 206. 206. All in order, all laid out precisely as it would be if Li was taking a nap with her arms outstretched.

The moonlight filters down. Soulless call in the distance, but their dagger is ready at their hip. For an instant, Mhin lets themself relax, and bends down to caress Li’s skull again. The intimate parts of her, which no one but them would ever know and understand.

It was thoughtless of her to leave them behind. She had always been a little scatter-brained and clumsy, prone to having the money stolen right out of her pocket despite being a self-proclaimed thief. But this was her worst mistake yet. To die without them. To rest so peacefully, while making them suffer.

It went against what she always said: that it would just be the two of them, together. And yet she had left them. She had taken on a dangerous job, an escort mission across miles of barren wastelands, soulless at every corner. She had gone out that fateful night, blowing them kisses, promising to return, and then never came home. Hypocrite. How could she do that to them?

But it was fine. It would be fine, and they could forgive her. They would be together again. Mhin was simply fulfilling the promise they made. Even if she cursed them and cried and begged for peace, they would drag her back down to earth, back to their side. It wouldn’t be right otherwise.

They stare down at her bones again. Resurrection was a forbidden art, but Leander had lent them the proper tools for the ritual, the magic and the spells, like a snake whispering in their ear. Weeks of fruitless searching on their own, and Leander was the only one who could offer them what they needed. They would take whatever hand offered them a way to save her, even if it was from someone like him.

Because they were hers, and she was theirs, and not even death would separate them. They would bring her back, and they would tie her so tightly to them that they would be together in every life after this.

Mhin took a breath, and spoke the opening words of the spell as the moonlight spilled over Li’s bones, as if she was waiting for them, too.

ii. Even if You Come Back Wrong, You’re Still Mine

“Sorry.” That’s the first word Li spoke to them, with her palms outstretched in front of her, like a scolded puppy. “It fell.”

It’s easy enough to see the bone protruding from her right hand, the finger cupped in her palms. Mhin lets out a short little sigh. Things like this had become common as of late, her body disintegrating bit by bit after the ritual.

“It’s fine,” they say, gesturing for her to sit. “We can just fix it.”

Li obediently perches on the kitchen chair, and Mhin kneels in front of her, gently taking her broken hand in their own. Her skin is cold, and no amount of rubbing could bring the warmth back into her skin. They had tried, but whatever warmth from their touch her skin absorbed would simply dissipate in a few hours.

They take out the sewing kit from their pocket, a recent benediction from Kuras. When they had tersely asked him for medical supplies, for thick, transparent thread and needles that could puncture skin, Kuras had wordlessly handed them the kit without question. There was never any judgment or pity with Kuras, but his gaze had still seared their skin.

Mhin deftly threads the needle, holding the finger in place, and makes quick, even stitches across Li’s finger. They’re good at delicate work like this, that requires intense concentration and little thought. It’s soothing how the world can always be broken down into patterns and rhythms, into familiar, repetitive motions.

When they’re done, Li stares at her own finger like a stranger.

“Open and close your hand,” Mhin instructs, and she does. The finger moves normally, and they nod.

“Mhin,” Li says, slowly, absently.

“What is it?” they snap, and she only blinks owlishly. Before, she would have shrugged off their complaints as easily as one does water, with a blindly bright and foolish smile. She might have even called them cute.

Li had never been one for quick thinking outside of a fight, but now, her mind seems to move slowly, thoughts struggling to break through the murky surfaces of her own brain. She once worked on instinct and intuition, and now all of her animal senses had been deadened to a dullness that made her stumble where she once would have leaped.

It was as much as what Vere had said, when the bastard had swung by their apartment, ears pricking at the “new amusement” Mhin had been so fixated with that it meant no one in Eridia had seen them outside their apartment in weeks. Vere had deigned to chat with his old gossip partner for a few minutes, but with each dull response of Li’s, Vere’s ears flattened against his head, a sharp, displeasurable scowl on his face. Mhin had then considered slotting their dagger right against his heart when Vere suggested that they should throw away toys that no longer worked.

Li watched them with blank eyes the entire exchange, in the same way she watches them now. There’s a veil fluttering across her gaze, and if they only knew the right words, the right actions, they could finally reach past it to grasp her hand.

“Your face…” she says, and cups their cheeks with her cool palms. They’re still kneeling in front of her, and she gazes down at them, like a blessing.

“What about it?” They lean into her touch, into the smooth skin of death.

“You look…” she frowns. “Sad.” Her words are uncertain.

“I’m not.”

“Okay,” she says.

But for a moment more, they can’t move, can’t pull away from her hands, which have always captivated them. “Li, do you remember what we talked about?” Mhin asks curtly.

She tilts her head. “Which conversation?”

They bring their hands to cover hers, trapping her touch in place. “About what we are.”

She nods, and like a pupil reciting a lesson, states, “That we’re always going to be together, no matter what.”

“Right. Just be sure to keep that in mind,” they say. “That’s the one thing you can’t forget.”

“Okay.”

They close their eyes. “You’re here now,” they repeat. “You’re here. You’re right here.”

“I’m here,” she repeats.

Learned behaviors are just as necessary as innate behaviors. And love is also something that could be learned again, as many times as needed. As long as they kept their hands on hers, then they could believe that the chill of her winter had finally melted away to spring again.

#liya writes #liya’s ocs #touchstarved #mhin #mhin x oc #mhin x mc #touchstarved fanfic #sorry idk how to tag these things when its not x reader lmfaooooo #anyways i actually have like. an insane amount of lore for li hiding in my drafts this is just the tip of the iceberg #i just think its cute to pair mhin w someone who is so oblivious self confident and selfish she just pushes past all their walls

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chiibinomonodamon · 2 days

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WHO WANTS TO HEAR ME RAMBLE ABOUT GAY FURRY DEMON SEX? XD

(damn, there's a sentence I never thought I'd say....)

Okay...so I see some Stolitz confusion and bashing online and I need to type up a defense here because I won't be able to sleep otherwise lol

I consider myself to be a Ship Critic and someone who takes shipping rather seriously.

What I mean by this is, I like to analyze and break down romantic relationships between fictional characters because it's just interesting to write for me. I especially take delight in friendly debating with opinions that I strongly do *not* agree with.

Let me start off by saying I am NOT a "this ship is awesome because gay furry sex lol" type of girl.

FAR from it. I'm generally more passionate about hetero ships between human characters (because I can relate to them more) among other reasons. So if you wanna dismiss my defense as "shallow fangirlism", you can forget about that lame excuse.

I fell in love with Hazbin Hotel when it was finally released in February and suffered waiting for each new two-parts per week. During that time, I decided to watch Helluva Boss as well, after a friend showed me a particularly soul-crushing clip (Moxxie's childhood trauma about his mother).

Yes, I like funny sex jokes as much as the next goofy adult but scenes like this, scenes that carry a very heavy emotional weight are what really get me in the end, even moreso when VERY little dialogue is exchanged. I knew I had to watch the entire episode run after seeing that the creators had a talent for this.

I saw people asking:

"How did Stolas go from using Blitz as a sex toy to being painfully in love with him?"

Oh I can tell you. I can tell you the EXACT moment this is revealed. But it's not spoon-fed to you; it's quite subtle actually and this is why lots of people miss it.

See, one of the strongest talents Vivenne has shown me is that she REALLY knows how to get her characters to communicate their feelings to the viewers JUST from their expressions and body language. These can be 'blink-and-miss-it' teeny little scenes and it may require a couple rewatches.

But since people demand time stamps for all information others post here, I'll rewatch a few scenes from S1 E7 'Ozzie's' as I'm typing this.

'Ozzie's' remains to be not just my favorite episode of HB...but probably my favorite episode of any adult-targeted animated show outside of Japan (aside from S2 E7's Mid-Season Special)

It has this huge reveal for both Blitzo and Stolas.

We'll first address Blitzo's irrational, stalkerish behavior of Moxxie and Millie.

He's obsessed with them. He finds both of them very attractive, fantasizes about threesomes with them and is constantly inserting himself into their personal lives.

Why?

Because they have everything that he badly badly wants for himself.

They have the perfect marriage and he is trying to live THROUGH them.

This was hilarious to me at the beginnning of the show but it's slowly revealed that it's one of the most tragic and depressing things I've ever seen. And it's scarily realistic too.

But you know this already so let's move on...

Blitzo follows the couple to Ozzie's but he can't get in without a date. So he calls up Stolas and yes, this is very low but he doesn't realize how much this means to Stolas (hell, I'm not sure even Stolas realizes it himself!) but the owl man is giddy with joy, he rushes over and they enter Ozzie's.

When Ozzie and Fizz mock Moxxie for being so sappy towards his wife, this strikes a chord with Blitzo (because they're his IDEAL relationship) and he speaks up to defend them.

NOW PAY CLOSE ATTENTION; THIS IS THE IMPORTANT PART:

Fizz, still holding onto his past grudge turns on Blitzo to humilate him:

"Some nerve you got commenting on a relationship"

Time Stamp: 11:37

As Fizz says "-ship", Blitzo VERY QUICKLY makes eye contact with Stolas who has a look of panic on his face. Blitzo is seeking VALIDATION from Stolas in this sharp, subtle second of screentime, as if to ask

"Well, ARE we in one?"

And then what happens next...Stolas remains silent, Blitzo's ex joins in to announce how selfish Blitzo was in bed with her, tearing him down further. Stolas stands up like he's going to put a stop to it but then Ozzie notices him and interrogates him about sleeping with Blitzo.

Blitzo looks incredibly ashamed and guilty as Stolas blushes with similar feelings...and hides his face behind his menu; HIS BIGGEST MISTAKE IN THE SERIES SO FAR.

Time Stamp: 12:24

The look on Blitzo's face as he grits his teeth and darts his eyes away basically says

"Yeah, I should have known...boy am I an idiot for trusting him to stand up for me".

(look how SHOCKED he is...wow, this hurts fr ;_;)

This is a silent betrayal on Stolas's part. Afterall, his reputation is on the line, so if he were to defend Blitzo, it confirms they are in fact, dating. He chose his pride over Blitzo and Blitzo is crushed by this betrayal.

Moxxie finishes his song and kisses his wife tenderly. Stolas watches this and also wants to have an affectionate moment with Blitzo (who is rightfully glaring daggers at him) and tries to reach for his hand.

Blitzo rejects his touch and suggests they leave. As they do, Blitzo still looks furious and hurt. Stolas is now realizing how badly he screwed up with a "What have I done?" face (13:41)

He even looks disappointed with himself.

After Blitzo drops Stolas off, he thanks him and tries to smooth over the awkwardness with sweet talk but Blitzo just rolls his eyes in disgust and pulls on his face like "I don't want to hear this bullshit".

He responds coldly and curtly, "Yeah." Stolas makes more suggestions to spend time with him, which just makes him even angrier and he snaps

"I'm not fucking you tonight, okay!

I'm really just..." (14:28)

he pauses to wipe a tear because at this point he can barely hold it together (top notch voice acting and animation directing btw)

"...not in the mood, Stolas."

Stolas still tries to talk him into doing couple things unrelated to sex.

Blitzo's face switches back to anger and frustration because Stolas isn't getting the message so he goes for the blunt tactic;

"Stolas, don't act like what we have is anything but YOU wanting ME to fuck you, okay?"

(14:42)

"You make that really clear all the time."

(again his voice sounds like he's about to break down)

"But I-I just can't do it tonight, okay?"

(Finally meets his eye)

"...I'm sorry."

I believe this is code for "I'm sorry we're even in this situation and how your reputation got damaged. " Or, more painfully, "I'm sorry I'm such an embarrassment to you".

Stolas replies "Okay" and takes a deep breath to compose himself. They say goodnight and depart.

An important note here is that Stolas calls him "Blitzo" instead of "Blitzy" to show more respect.

As Blitzo zooms away coldly, Stolas looks up at the sky with tears in his eyes, surprised at how much it hurts.

He then sits down with his head in his hands in anguish...because he's getting that

"Oh...no. These feelings are real" epiphany.

And as if this wasn't enough angst, Blitzo collapses onto his couch at home, goes through the memories on his phone and starts sobbing.

I'm going to be real with you; this is the most heart-breaking shit I have ever seen in an adult show of this type. It's also the first time a show of this type got me to cry.

The last six minutes have revealed so much information without spoonfeeding it to the audience because the show RESPECTS its audience.

To recap:

*Blitzo takes Stolas on a first official date to use him

*Stolas is extremely happy about it

*Blitzo gets humilated and looks to Stolas for validation

*Stolas betrays him and breaks his heart

*Blitzo snaps that their relationship is nothing more than lust-driven sex

*Stolas realizes he's actually in love with Blitzo and it's a huge problem because (he believes) that it's unrequited.

*Blitzo breaks down because the ONE person whom he thought would protect him didn't do so.

So these two are convinced that neither one loves the other...while the irony is, it's quite the opposite.

Because if Blitzo REALLY didn't feel anything towards Stolas, he would not have gotten this emotional.

Yes, they are both lonely...but I really don't think that's all there is between them.

So..........we know WHEN they started falling...now the question is why;

I think the answer's quite simple; single-target affection.

It was mentioned in S2 that Stolas and Stella did sleep together ONE TIME...but Stolas didn't enjoy it at all. He is stuck with a wife who hates him so much that she put a HIT on him...and a daughter who thinks he's a loser. Blitzo is pretty much the one person in his life who is able to make him happy. That one small, bright spot. He enjoys the sex with him but he also simply enjoys his company, as shown in Ozzie's episode. He is thrilled to simply talk to him about his day...and do anything else that couples do. They're complete opposites. Stolas is an intellectual but naive and sheltered. Blitzo is poorly educated but cynical and street-smart. Opposites attract...though this is likely more from Stolas's POV than Blitzo's.

In other words, Stolas is into bad boys xD lmao

In Blitzo's case, Stolas is the only character who shows him physical affection which he desperately craves. He's pretty tsundere about it most of the time...but I think he actually does enjoy that attention...especially when he's always getting disrespected by Moxxie and Loona..and quite a lot of people around him. BUT he's too scared to get serious with anyone because of past trauma and he also believes that no one could possibly love him as a person. :(

Reasons I Think This Love is Real

Aside from what I pointed out in the Ozzie's episode...there's quite a lot of evidence, esp from Stolas's POV.

After he realizes he's in love, he goes to Asomodeous for an ALTERNATIVE method for Blitzo to use so they will no longer sleep together. He wants to set Blitzo free. Which means he DOES truly love him because love is about being generous to the other person. He COULD be totally selfish about it but he isn't.

Asomodeous mentions how against love potions he is and Stolas agrees. He thinks that's out of the question.

'Look My Way' music video. Lol I don't have to say anything more.

In S2 E6 OOPS

This exchange at 16:57

Fizz: Seems your taste has gotten more 'regal', lately?

Blitz: Yeah, well unlike you, I fuck who I want WHEN I want. I'm not gonna be tied down to some big blue-blood asshole.

Fizz: You coulda fooled me the way Prince was cozying up to you at Ozzie's.

Blitz (gets very defensive) HEY! Stolas only cares about have a rugged peasant raw-dog him into his mattress, okay!

It's nothing...(gets hesistant and looks away)...you know...

(Fizz gives him a 'bitch please' look xD)

"it's nothing else."

Fizz: Then why were you even there?

Blitz: OTHER very important reasons of course.

Fizz: Whatever. I don't actually care.

Blitz: Stolas is just a loud, thirsty BITCH!

(Fizz is rolling his eyes again)

Blitz: He loves feeling the thrill of getting dicked by the lower class.

It's a novelty to him.

Fizz: LITERALLY just said I don't care!

Blitz: And then he'll call me and try to see how my day was!

And he'll pretend to care about me and comment on my photos laugh at my jokes...

Fizz: (Smirking) OH! That's definitely your clue right there that it's all bullshit!

Blitz: I KNOW, RIGHT??

Fizz: (Making a 'What in idiot' expression, shaking his head)

Blitz: HE'S JUST A FAKE, PRIVELEDGED ASSHOLE...

Fizz: Sounds like you just hate him for being a prince!

No one (laughs) and I mean NO ONE pretends to care that much just for a cheap lay.

All right. IF ANYONE knows what real love is like, it's Fizzaroli...who is in a very HEALTHY relationship with Asomodeous. He recognizes the signs because he's IN that place. He sees it...and he's annoyed that Blitzo keeps denying it and brushing it off...yet clearly can NOT stop talking about Stolas (amusing irony)

To sum up (this freaking essay lol) 'Stolitz' ABSOLUTELY has the potential to be pure and true...these two just need to communicate...or Stolas has to PROVE to Blitzo that he's serious about his feelings in another way.

There is no doubt that this ship is 100% endgame and is a case of the 'Earn Your Happy Ending' Trope. I look forward to the rest of the journey. Ron is putting my feelings about Stolitz in a perfect phrase:

#shipping #helluva boss #blitzø #stolas #stolitz #blitzo x stolas #stolas x blitz #vivziepop #animation #man they really have a firm grip on my heart #it's so strange to me lol #OH THE ANGST

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imagionationstation · 1 day

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so I would like more ideas on the whole “2012 Donnie ends up in prison dimension” au thing.

if you don’t have any it’s completely okay!

just maybe…how are the 2012 turtles (and Splinter) holding up? And how would the 2018 turtles react when 2012 Donnie has to go back home? Does he? Or does he stay? I think it’d be fun if their were two alt endings. One where 2012 Donnie stays in the rise universe and one where he doesn’t. Idk

Srry I’m yappin’ lol

Oh, don’t worry. I’ve been poking at this AU all day.

I have, like, five scenes overlapping each other. Because I’m normal.

*ahem*

“So what if instead of merely erasing him, she decided to put him somewhere that no one could ever reach him? A dimension from where things are known never to return? A place where April could never get him back without her assistance?”

Lil’ miss overpowered demon would have wanted April to know that she shipped Donnie off somewhere instead of outright murder. Then, she could hold it over her head you need me to get him back to prevent her from ever shattering the Crystal. But considering that’s blackmail and April knew that the longer that freak was in her brain, the more likely it was that she’d obliterate New York- well, she was determined to find Donnie back without her help.

And so April assures that brothers that he’s alive. And they immediately begin a search ✨

I’m sure that there would be a lot of tension, fear, and worry, but they KNOW he’s alive out there somewhere, (probably suffering if Za-Naron’s vague taunts were true), so they’re going to get him back, and the sooner the better. *Insert car chase music*

And the best part is that the 2012brothers have never actually been separated for more than a few hours. Like, in any episode.

Imagine days apart not knowing if Donnie is even alive.

At least they have each other. Donnie, on the other hand…

I think how the Risebrothers react to their arrival to bring Donnie home would depend highly on how long Donnie remains with them. However, it’s not through an “we adopted him” standpoint.

Remember, Leon and Donnie were stuck in a crippled dimension for weeks. They were barely surviving, avoiding Krang at every turn, convinced that they’d never see their families again. Leon would have told Donnie about the prison dimension’s purpose and how no one could ever risk coming. How his family had to see to it that no one ever came through for the sake of everyone in his dimension.

They had to live with that knowledge for a time period that probably felt like an eternity.

A seed of doubt was planted and they coped in different ways.

Donnie, keeping them both alive and his flickering hope burning through each passing moment, holds to the stubborn belief that if they wants to make it out, he only needs to, “Try harder.”

And Leon, willing to fight for Donnie but unwilling to surrender to the pipe dream of getting freed, assists the fight with a timid, but unbudging, “It’s not about me.”

Then, when they get out, their perspectives will be entirely different.

Leon will be home, but a part of him, the part that was counting down the minutes ‘till he dies, will still be in the prison dimension.

Donnie will be safe, but everything in him, every minuscule cell in his being that prayed for release, will be yearning for home.

So, we have two options. And no, I do not believe one of them involves him permanently living in the Rise verse. (Many apologies.)

Option one: Angst ending (They find him fast.)

Okay, so, if the 2012brothers were to arrive within days of Donnie getting free, I have no doubt that a desperate Donnie would go home without a second of hesitation and Leon would lose his anchor. He’d be stricken at the thought, aware of how much Donnie needs to leave, crippled under the looming weight of that sacrifice. He only suffered lived so Donnie wouldn’t be alone in that hellhole nightmare, and now Donnie is abandoning him leaving.

He’d be stiff, silent, barely managing a weak “okay” when Donnie shares the news. The conversation distracts anyone from really noticing his state of mind. It’s only once the 2012 gang leave the room that Raphael makes the mistake of touching his shoulder. After they barely calm a flash-back induced panic attack that leaves him wheezing and pale, crying and bleeding on the floor where he’d attempt to flee from them, the Risebrothers decide that they can’t let Donnie walk out. Raphael and Michael are torn, because Donnie needs the familiar sights of home as much as Leon needs Donnie, but Don has no such limitations. I almost want to say the same for Lou. He sacrificed the world for his kids. This is nothing.

As you can imagine, family fights for custody never go well.

Option two: Happy Ending (Finding him takes time)

If the brothers were to arrive several weeks/month or so into the future, long enough for Leon to readjust to society and no longer need Donnie as a reminder that he’s home and not completely delulu in the brain, it would go much smoother. Obviously, Donnie would be more desperate than ever to get home. The kind of desperate that leaves him broken in their arms when they finally appear, promising through sobs that he tried so hard to get back to them he did he swears he never stopped he tried-

And considering the Risebrothers don’t have a single cruel bone in their body, they wouldn’t hesitate to let him go home. He’s welcome any time, of course, and Leo makes him promise to find a way back during one, big goodbye squeeze, but they accept that right now, he needs to go. Donnie kept their brother alive and helped truly bring his scattered brain home. Why shouldn’t they return the favor?

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hypnos-uwu · 2 days

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Riko as a victim is more fascinating and interesting than Riko as a mindless abuser

three criminal families and their three unwanted sons; Neil with a mother who helped him to escape, Jean sold and Riko desperately grasping for anything that would give him his fathers love

Two princes of Exy; the nephew of Tetsuji Moriyama, and the son of Kayleigh Day. It's all Riko ever knew. It was all he could be.

Neil Josten spent two weeks in Evermore. Jean spent five years. Riko spent his entire life under his uncles thumb, in the dark.

The Foxes are all victims of the horrors of life and they all lash out in different ways; violence, murder, alcoholism, drugs. Every single Raven is angry and violent, and that's with only a fraction of the abuse the Perfect Court suffered.

Neil had his mother. Kevin had Wymack, and Andrew. Jean had Renee, and now Jeremy. Riko only ever had Kevin.

Riko is what Neil might have been. Riko is the failure to Neil's success story. Riko was the other life, the other path.

Riko was at most 20 years old.

To negate everything Riko suffers and assume him to be awful for the sake of awful negates his entire role in the story. It insults everything Neil is as someone who got off that path, as someone who turned out differently, it insults those who helped him. If Riko was awful purely for the fun of it, then it wouldnt matter that Neil fought and fought against the Nathan in him, if Riko is innately bad and everyone else in the story is simply innately good.

Riko was a hurt child doing awful, awful things. He is an interesting and complex character. Nobody has to like him or forgive him. But hes so much more complex than 90% of this fandom give him credit for

#riko moriyama

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saxophoneshouyou · 3 days

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[Zutara] oneshot! In which Zuko starts taking meds and faces the effects :/

Zuko did not want medication. He had spent years of his life telling himself that very fact. From the moment his mother left to now, ten years later, he was sure he would never need to take something to change his feelings.

But too many nights spent crying on Katara’s shoulder seemed to argue otherwise.

Katara’s quiet pleas for Zuko to try medication or therapy didn’t go ignored by the ladder, he was just so adamant about not needing them. He didn’t understand what burden he was placing on Katara by doing so until later. On top of having a job and working the house, she was Zuko’s own personal therapist. Not that she ever complained, she would never try to make Zuko go back to bottling up his emotions like he had for years before. Zuko recognized all the effort she put into to make herself a safe space for Zuko, and he thoroughly appreciated it.

It took him longer than it should’ve to recognize that Katara herself was also suffering from her own problems. She went to therapy weekly, still coping with the tragic loss of her mother from a few years earlier. Not knowing how to handle her emotions, she signed up to get a therapist after saving money for a few months. Her therapist seemed to help her a lot, although she often came out of the building her sessions were housed in teary eyed and solemn. Zuko could see the change in her everyday demeanor, however.

They had originally bonded over the loss of their mothers, as weird as it may seem. They had found comfort in knowing that another person understood their pain on a level they didn’t necessarily know if even their siblings did.

Zuko was extremely proud of Katara’s improvement, but that didn’t mean that she still wasn’t struggling. He understood she was having some inner familial issues, but not much more than that. He heard her light cries at night in their shared bathroom before bed. When confronted about it, she would change the subject.

Zuko didn’t realize until recently that Katara felt she would be putting too much on Zuko’s plate if she mentioned the problems to him. And after some self evaluating, Zuko realized she wasn’t wrong.

Knowing that Katara was keeping her problems to herself because her own spouse didn’t have the capacity to help her is what pushed Zuko to finally go to the doctors and get a prescription.

The process wasn’t as daunting as he thought it would be. Yes, he had to open up all his doors and inner thoughts to a person who he did not know on any form of a personal basis, and it mentally drained him to an extreme, but it wasn’t a horrible experience.

When he came home with his new prescription, Katara gave him a long hug and quick kiss on the cheek. She was proud at him for taking the first step to getting better.

He started taking his meds for two weeks before his problems started arising. The first week was just 25mg as his doctor wanted to ease him into the usual 50mg. After the first week, he started the 50mg dosage.

He didn’t realize at first, but he began going to bed later than he usually would. He would toss and turn to a much longer extent than before, and even though his eyes were heavy and his body was tired, his mind seemed to race with excitement over unnecessary topics.

He didn’t understand what was occurring until it was 1am and he had been trying to fall asleep for two hours. He gently cupped Katara between his arms and spooned her until he finally relaxed, her sweet smell of lavender shampoo etching itself into his mind.

When he awoke, Katara was facing him, combing her hands through his hair in an attempt to soothe him. Instead of falling asleep in this circumstance like he normally would, he found himself gaining more and more consciousness. He reduced the problem to ‘rising with the sun’.

The next night, he found himself in the same situation as the last, tossing and turning but feeling unable to get comfortable no matter what position he was in.

”Zuko, are you alright?” Katara asked, groggily.

”I-“ Zuko started, taking a moment to think, “yeah, don’t worry about it.”

”Are you sure? You were like this last night too.”

”It’s fine, I guess I’m just stressed over work.” Zuko rolled into his back and stared at the ceiling.

”Hey,” Katara said, grabbing Zuko’s shoulder and pulling him to he was facing her. She lightly cupped his face in one of her hands as she examined his eyes. “You can talk to me, you know that, right? You’re never inconveniencing me when you do.” Her voice was slightly raspy, layered with sleepiness, but her words sent a surge of emotions through Zuko.

”I know you’re dealing with a lot,” Zuko sighed, “I don’t want to add more onto your plate.”

Katara took a deep breath in. “That’s family stuff. It happens annually. You can’t be a part of my family without some sick drama,” she rolled her eyes, “You and me? That’s right now, this moment. Nothing else is coming between us and proper beauty sleep,” she let out a soft chuckle. Zuko did the same.

He sighed, knowing that Katara had won. “It might be something to do with that medication,” he finally admitted, “It did say something about sleep problems.” Katara hummed.

”You have been a little more active during the night,” she deducted.

”I feel like I’m being plagued with thoughts about my life. Where I am, why I’m here, how to continue.”

Katara sucked in a sharp breath.

”Not like that,” Zuko quickly clarified. “Just— how to continue working myself? Where do I go in life from here? How do I improve myself? Do I even want to?” He mumbled the last question to himself a bit more, slightly hoping Katara hadn’t heard him.

Katara took a long moment to think. Zuko thought for a moment she had fallen asleep. His thoughts dispersed when she took another deep breath in before talking. Her voice was low, and if it weren’t for the silence of the world around them, he doubt he would’ve been able to hear her otherwise.

”For a long time, I didn’t know who I was without my trauma. It shaped my entire personality to who I am today. Every piece of me became what it was because of my own suffering. I didn’t know how different I would be if I… healed. The idea of a version of myself that wasn’t who I was in that moment was scary… But I realized, over time, that even though those moments will forever shape who I am as a person, they don’t have to define me. I am not some girl who lost her mother two years ago and goes to therapy for it. I’m more than that. And you’re more than the boy with father issues who needs medication. We improve ourselves each day by living and accepting that we can be better. And I look forward to knowing that the next day, I’ll get new experiences that will shape who I become.”

Zuko took a long moment to think about her words. He wanted so badly to be more than the kid who’s mom left and dad never treated him well. He didn’t want people to think of him as that person when they saw him. He wanted to be more.

Zuko nodded in understanding. Katara grabbed the back of his head and gently pushed it down so she could kiss his forehead.

”We’ll call your doctor tomorrow, they’ll know where to go from here. In the meantime, Sleep when you can, dear, I’ll be here when you wake up, I promise.”

Zuko smiled and cuddled up to her, his head in her chest. Katara combed her hands through his hair until she eventually fell asleep. He didn’t fall asleep until later that night, but knowing that Katara was there for him, no matter what, certainly helped his efforts.

#angst #fanfiction #atla katara #katara #zuko #atla zuko #zutara #love #fluff

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