#and the line 'it was a long time ago the wounds don't heal but they become more bearable'

[justauthoring]

a promise he'll keep.

requested! -> also “who did this to you” with astarion would go absolutely bonkers. food for thought requested by! -> @the-sunflower-room

a/n -> thank you for your request! i saw your other one as well and definitely plan on writing it hopefully soon! also! i literally have been in love with this man since the game came out but im so nervous about writing for him i never gained the courage... tho, meeting neil yesterday made it feel like its only write i finally commit and write to him!

tw -> mention of blood, bruises and cuts/violence

pairing -> astarion x f!reader/tav

blood poured from the rather large cut across the side of your forehead, staining your skin and seeping into the tiny cuts littered across your cheek and jaw. bruises lined your neck, in the shape of a hands, and astarion was sure that the rest of your body mimicked the damage across your face.

armour torn, shaking and hurt, astarion's heart burns with a rage he's not felt in a long time.

long ago had he forgotten about the bloodlust of fighting. long ago had he healed from the trauma of his past. years had passed since astarion had first met you and years had passed since the both of you, along with the rest of your companions, healed yourselves from the parasites in your mind and effectively, saved the world.

your bodies had never quite healed though. the trauma of what you'd both experienced had never faded and most likely never would. you'd both accepted that as a fact of your lives and used each other as a means of healing from it.

it had been years since astarion has seen you bloodied and hurt like this, and it feels ten times worse then it ever had before. never a fighter, the second you'd no longer been forced to fight for survival, astarion knows you'd given up that part of your life.

you were strong. there was no doubting that. you could hold yourself and you'd proved that well enough given what you'd done for the world and most importantly, your companions. more than anything, you'd proved that with how you saved astarion from his tormentor and the horror of his past.

but you look so vulnerable in that moment; broken and hurt and bruised and his chest tightens, nails digging into the palms of his hands as the rage coarses through him, burning his veins and has him desperate to make whoever hurt you pay.

painfully.

"who..." and his words hesitate, the fire his chest making it hard to find his words. he doesn't want you to think any of his anger is directed at you... "who did this to you?"

you twitch at his words, arms coming around to hold yourself as you shiver, hesitating.

astarion's face falls.

taking a step towards you, he reaches out for you, hands moving to cup your cheeks, gently and wary of your wounds. he worries you'll pull away, given how afraid you are, but you know astarion and recognize his touch and some of the rage fades with concern and love for you as you lean into his touch.

his fingers work to brush the blood from your face, get rid of the dirt and grime that clings to your skin and tries to soothe you.

your eyes flutter shut in response.

"i'm sorry," astarion whispers. "i'm sorry, i don't mean to scare you."

you shake your head, humming in disagreement. "you didn't scare me."

astarion hates the way your voice trembles.

"i don't want you getting hurt for me," you explain. "you don't deserve that."

and astarion shakes his head. "it doesn't matter if it's you." he assures and he frowns when he realizes he might've not made that clear enough. he had a lot to make up for if you think that he wouldn't do anything for you. "i can't let them get away with hurting you like this."

"i'm okay," you try to deny.

astarion just tightens his grip on you, not enough to hurt you, of course, but enough to pull your attention on him. "you're not," he argues, desperate for you to understand how much it pains him to see you hurt like this. "you're bleeding, y/n. and fuck... you're hurt, badly. it breaks my heart to see you like this."

your eyes fall on him at that. wide eyes meeting his own as your lips part, as if shocked by his admission. maybe shocked wasn't the word—he likes to think the expression on your face is one of reassurance at how much his heart burns with love for you.

the tears that you'd been holding back fall then, your bravety and strength fading at astarion's warming and soothing words. they build at the corner of your eyes and astarion is quick to brush them away.

"i'll never let them hurt you again," he promises then, meaning every word of what he says. he says them with confidence, desperation and sincerity, eyes softening with a plea as he holds onto you, afraid you might slip from his very fingers. "them or anyone else."

your hand grabs his, squeezing.

"i know," you whisper, "this isn't your fault."

he just shakes his head; "it's whoever did this to you's fault," he assures, although the twinge of guilt that festers in his belly is undeniable. he should've been there with you, keeping you safe; even if you knew you were capable of keeping yourself safe... having him there would've assured him and would've stopped this from ever happening.

"y/n," he calls again, voice soft, measured and even as he stares into your eyes and doesn't let you pull away. "who did this to you?"

and your lips part, breathing shakily but there's an ease that washes across your expression and then the names of the men who hurt you come pouring from your lips.

astarion memorizies them, keeps them trapped in his mind as he nods. "thank you." and he is thankful. thankful that you trust him to do what he'd promised. thankful that you know he won't fail you.

"i'll make it better, okay?" he whispers, his thumb stroking across your cheek as he pulls you into his arms, a hand falling on the back of your neck to press you into his chest. "i promise."

you hum your response, leaning into his touch before letting him guide towards your home so he can dress and clean your wounds.

and most importanly, shower you in the love you deserve.

#baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate x reader #bg3 x reader #bg3 #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion #neil newbon

[ride-a-dromedary]

[Tell me something about yourself that I wouldn't even think to ask.]

#Baldur's Gate 3 #BG3 #halsinedit #bg3edit #bg3 spoilers #videogameedit #Halsin #otheredits #my stuff #i believe that this line #and it's delivery particularly in regards to his expression dropping before smiling again (because it almost comes across #as halsin being....hesitant to talk about himself because a. he feels like he doesn't do anything interesting #and b. has obviously been made fun of in the past judging by a few things and is waiting for you to as well) #(which makes that choice to be like haha bear and honey isn't that on the nose come off as more a dickish thing to say imho) #and the line 'it was a long time ago the wounds don't heal but they become more bearable' #say a whole lot about halsin in general and are largely overlooked when his character is being analyzed #a n y w a y....i love one gentle giant man please larian fix him up a bit and give him some more to say #otherwise it's fine i'll just be here and still love him and hate colouring this game

[steddieas-shegoes]

"Stevie, I am begging you, please don't tell Wayne."

Eddie was bleeding.

He was on the floor and he was bleeding.

Steve was standing in the doorway, shocked into silence, watching Eddie try to put pressure on a wound that should have mostly scarred over by now.

His last checkup had been good, they'd even said the stitches could come out on his next visit, and he could officially start physical therapy.

So why was he fucking bleeding?

"Dammit. Can you grab a wrap from my room?" Eddie asked him, tone entirely too calm.

"Shouldn't I take you to the hospital?" Steve managed to ask.

Eddie's head turned to him, eyes widening as he seemed to realized what was happening.

"No, I- this is kinda normal? It's happened a couple times," he tried to smile, shrug it off.

"A couple of times?! Eds, this isn't normal. They gotta stitch you up better or something, c'mon I can take you," Steve leaned in and tugged on the arm he was using to hold himself up, ready to take his weight and help him out the door.

"No!" Eddie sighed. "We can't."

"I can call Wayne, then, and he can come get you-"

"Stevie, I am begging you, please don't tell Wayne."

Steve froze.

How long had Eddie been hiding how bad this was?

"You haven't even told Wayne? Eds, you should be mostly healed. You were mostly healed at your last visit! What's happening?" Steve was doing his best to stay calm, but calm went out the window when he thought about Eddie being taken from them long after the threat was gone.

"I ripped a stitch a few days ago, so I've just tried to be careful, but sometimes I move wrong. It'll stop bleeding in a minute. It looks worse than it is," his eyes were pleading for Steve to just drop it, let him handle it on his own.

But Steve was not about to let something go wrong, not when it came to Eddie.

"I'm taking you to the hospital. I'm calling Wayne. You can hate me if you want, but I'd rather that than have to tell Dustin that you bled out on your fuckin' bathroom floor." Steve put his hand over Eddie's on his side, applying more pressure. "Can't believe you ripped your stitches and didn't tell anyone."

"I was handling it!"

"Poorly. Handling it poorly."

Eddie huffed, but surprisingly didn't argue further.

He actually stayed quiet for most of the ride to the ER, even kept his gaze lowered when Wayne walked into the room he was being stitched back up in.

He remained silent on the ride home, preferring to ride with Steve while Wayne followed behind in his truck.

He didn't wait for either of them before making his way to his bedroom.

"Thanks for callin'," Wayne said to Steve as he watched Eddie close the front door behind him. "You can head out, I'll stay with him until the kids come by tomorrow."

"If it's alright, I think I'd like to stay," Steve hesitantly replied. "I'll take the couch. Just don't wanna be too far."

Wayne looked him up and down, much like he'd done the first night Steve refused to leave Eddie's side in the hospital.

Whatever he found, he seemed to accept, smiling at Steve.

"Might as well stay in his bed. Gotta keep a close eye on that one," Wayne winked and walked inside without an answer from Steve.

A close eye was really all Steve had intended, but of course, when they woke up tangled together the next morning, his intentions started to shift.

They shifted more when Eddie, half-asleep and on some minor pain meds, pressed a soft kiss to Steve's chest before falling back asleep.

——————————————————————

I could have done anything with this line and I chose dramatics. Happy Tuesday.

ATTENTION: I reached 5! This is 1/5 and the rest will probably be posted throughout today.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #drabble #wayne munson

[requinoesis]

What got you started on the anthropomorphic sharks as characters? I love them very much I just wish to learn the origin of this idea.

I'm delighted that you're interested in them!

They are part of a world belonging to a cosmology that I created several years ago with the intention of seeing how far I could go creatively with sharks, which could captivate people to get to know their reality through a good fantasy story.

There's a lot to tell, from events involving a dying ancestral presence that now lives on in the sharks' dreams to misadventures involving a human who has been chosen as the sharks' herald, and many things I still want to keep secret.

Everything culminates in this shark civilization, which will appear on Earth millions of years post-anthropocene, humanity resting in the deepest beds of the Earth, now only as a little-understood archaeological curiosity.

But a mysterious presence has influenced these shark inhabitants to follow a human-like line of civilization, because it's the only way known to work in creating a diversity of creativity, philosophy and life experiences, which is what an entity was looking for to heal its wounded soul.

So they only have buildings, cars and clothes like us because humanity existed at some point to inspire a kind of path. Otherwise, they would probably have evolved to be great wild beasts for a cosmic destiny.

The story ended up being too long to tell, with millions of years of distance from one plot to the next. There are things happening from tribalistic and medieval times to events in the distant technological and space future.

Then this world was born! It is in the "middle" of the history of this civilization, in a period very similar to humanity between 1980~2000. At first it was just an idea that came up when I did an illustration of these sharks of mine in a retro period, I liked the aesthetic so much that I started to explore it further and now it's become a story that I'm managing to converge everything I wanted to tell about them in just one story.

The three sharks in the band are just some of the protagonists who are part of this story that I want to tell at some point.

I'm sorry if I've written too much, I don't know how to summarize things and sorry if there are any anomalies in the English, I used a translator.

#shark #sharks

[thewalkingwillowtree]

Safe Haven

Series Part Listing Found Here

Neteyam x Original Na'vi Female Character

Summery: Seeking refuge, Xilä and her father venture to the lands of the Omatikaya clan, in the hopes that the Toruk Makto would be generous in allowing them to stay. This is her story about not only finding her strength, but finding love. 

Warning: This story contains smut, violence & abuse (please don't read if these topics will affect you)

Some characters have been aged up. Neteyam in particular is 24.

Xilä is my own creation.

~

Part 18- Healing

The second they landed, Sal had flung herself at Xilä, sobbing inconsolably in a flurry of emotions ranging from devastation, elation and just pure relief.

Once Sal finally released her, Neteyam was lifting Xi into his arms and bypassing all the other waiting friends and family members- Tuk, Kiri, D’avi, Spider and so many others who’d crowded around.

“Later,” he snapped, “she needs to see Tsahìk,” was all he said before striding off for this grandmother’s tent

The medic they’d taken with them on their journey had done as much as they could for Xi, but Neteyam had watched his wife struggle on the trip back home, she needed proper treatment.

Mo’at embraced them both, murmuring prayers of thanks to Eywa under her breath. She was then giving orders to have a large tub basin brought in as she ushered Xi to a free bed.

Between his grandmother, Kiri and Sal, Xilä was carefully bathed and tended to and all wounds and injuries no matter how minor were treated.

After Xi inhaled a thick nutritional broth and a cup of medical tea, she swallowed the tonics Mo’at had instructed her to before falling into a deep and much needed sleep against Sal.

Neteyam had not left her side once. He hovered and kept a watchful eye as the woman worked seamlessly and efficiently to care for his mate.

A tension of relief he hadn’t realized was stifling him, released when his grandmother had asked if she’d been hurt intimately. Xi had given her a simple resounding NO to the question.

“You should go get cleaned up brother,” Kiri said, taking his empty soup bowl and the filthy cloak and pants he’d removed from himself.

D’avi, who’d come in a while ago was gently finger combing through Xi’s now clean loosened strands. She saw his hesitation and the way his stare lingered on his sleeping wife.

“Don’t be stubborn now. Go, she won’t wake anytime soon…we won’t leave her side until you’re back,” she assured.

It took everything within him to leave the tent. After additional coaxing and light scolding from the two elderly women, he eventually left.

Neteyam soaked the nearest hot spring, washing away the aches and tension from the very long couple of days he’d endured. And of course the entire time, the only thing that plagued his mind was the wellbeing of his mate.

A pang of panic flooded him when he returned to the healing tent and didn’t find Xi where he’d left her.

“Calm yourself, Teyam,” Mo’at soothed from where she’d been tending to a new patient.

“She’s just back there,” she said, jerking her head to a partitioned section of the large tent that led to Mo’at’s personal quarters- which she only ever used if she needed to be close to a patient.

Sal and D’avi were still with Xi when he entered the dim space. They gave him soft smiles and gentle arm pats on their way out, Sal stopping to press an appreciative kiss to his cheek and a whispered “thank you” as she passed.

Neteyam crawled in and laid beside his mate, greedily drinking in the sight of her sleeping features. Dirt and grime free, the cuts and bruises littered about her skin were a stark difference- harsh and prominent.

Guilt ate at him.

He traced the contours of Xi’s face- thumb barely making contact as it brushed over her skin in a feather light motion. Across her brow, curving along the soft of her cheek, down the bridge of her nose before tracing the lines of her jaw, chin, lips- landing finally on her pulse point to make sure he felt that subtle beat.

He snuggled closer, her feet meeting his chins as he plastered himself to her front while they laid on their sides- face so close to her own, their noses touched and heartbeats thumped against each other.

At last, and at peace for the first time in too many days, Neteyam slept.

~

In the first week that his wife returned, both Neteyam and Xilä stayed with Sal and Jxo. Not only because it was easier since Xilä’s room was still available, but Neteyam also thought it best for both her and her parents' comfort.

Within the very second day he began to notice Xi’s behavior. Somehow he knew it was coming, he’d been watching, waiting.

It was subtle little things at first. Actions and hints of an emotion or expression he hadn’t seen from her in a long, long time. Not always, but she’d flinch at the slightest touch or brush- even from him.

Sudden movements and loud noises had her panicky and unsettled.

Shaking hands she’d either clasp up tightly or sit on them altogether to hide, unaware he’d already clocked it.

Nightmares. Those she couldn’t hide even if she wanted to. Some nights she accepted his comfort when she woke up in hysterical tears, and others she’d downplay it all and say she was “fine”.

Fine. Oh how he fucking hated that word.

And so even though he’d expected these reactions from her, even though he’d mentally prepared himself for how to handle it, how to help her… what he hadn’t expected was for her to pretend she wasn’t affected… at all.

His mate, Xilä Sully acted like it was all nothing and everything was fucking normal- fucking fine. Like she hadn’t been kidnapped, like she hadn’t been beaten bloody and bruised, starved, chained and held prisoner because she’d been traded like she was meaningless cattle.

No. Xilä was all smiles and chatty as ever. Her parents had shared his concern at first when he pointed it out, but then they’d just chalked it up to it being that she'd grown and was better at handling traumatic events by now. They were just happy to see her, happy.

Bulllll-shit.

She could fool their friends and their family and everyone else who visited to show their concern or relief that she was back, but him? She could never fool him. He saw through the smiles and laughs that never quite met her eyes.

His wife was hurting, bottling everything up and stifling her pain.

And it killed him.

He tried. Not within that first week of course. But when they’d moved into a temporary little tent near her parents’, he tried talking to her. Tried getting her to open up. She refused… Because of course and once again, she was still fucking “fine.”

It ate at him. Plagued him. He thought maybe, just maybe she was waiting until it was only the two of them again in their own space and away from everyone else. But when she gave him nothing, he pushed, and pushed some more until she finally snapped and told him to give it a rest, to “leave it be.”

Neteyam grew tired and frustrated. He had her back and all to himself now and yet he’d never felt such distance from his wife. He was at his wits end and his own “pretending everything was fine” just for her, was beginning to crack.

They were venturing into the beginning of the third week since her return, and while he had backed off from his mission of getting her to open up, it certainly didn’t stop his hovering.

He hadn’t left her side for a second. Downright refused, even when she’d grumble about his over-clinginess. Duties temporarily handed off to Tasam who he trusted whole heartedly with, Neteyam became worse than clingy- he was his wife’s shadow.

Xilä had observed this early on, noting her husband’s desperation to stay close to her. The way his eyes would light up in panic if she had left his sight for even a second made her heart ache. And at night while they slept, he completely engulfed her, limbs entwined, with his face buried into her neck as if he were trying to seep into her skin.

In the past few weeks, she had barely lifted a finger. Her husband was worse than her mother she summed up. Sal and Neteyam seemed as if they were competing for who could hover and smother her with love and affection the most.

It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate it, to be honest she basked in all the love- or most of it. Not the times when her mate would chastise her for trying to walk on her sprained ankle too soon, or the few times she’d forgotten to take her pain tonics only for Neteyam to launch into a sweet but long winded and overly dramatic lecture as if her not taking her medicine caused him actual pain.

But today was a new day, and Xi was keen on taking back her independence. She was ready to shake off the nightmares that crippled her at night and the flashbacks, and the fear and the looming, constant sense of dread and anxiety that she was so ready to be done and over with.

“Handsome, I’m going to D’avi’s today.”

Neteyam’s head flicked up from the tablet he’d been pouring over as he watched his mate shuffle out from their bed with the empty tray of breakfast he’d made for her.

“Okay, I’ll come too,” he replied, tossing aside his new device to quickly follow right after her, ducking ever so slightly since the top of his head brushed the ceiling. He took the tray from her hands before she could protest, with a light smack to her ass when he reminded her to take her medicine.

Xilä bit her lip as she watched him put away the dishes. “Um… oh, alright.” She couldn’t find it within herself to tell him she wanted to go on her own. She changed direction and pulled out the first medical flask. “Hey, don’t you have your duties to get to by now? I know you took some time off but-”

“Tasam’s got it handled,” he shrugged.

“Okaay… it’s just, you can’t stay cooped up inside with me forever. So, when are you going back out exactly?”

“When I’m ready,” he said flippantly as he moved to fastened on his arm bands and warrior belt. “There’s no need for me right now,” he partly fibbed.

Her brows narrowed at him while she drank the last bitter concoction before chasing it with water. “Lie.”

“Lie?” He faced her head on, taking in the dark circles under her eyes and scabbed-over cut on her cheek he knew would scar. “Yeah, alright you got me… but baby, don’t start something you’re just going to walk away from.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” she snapped, pausing her task of rubbing oil on the fading bruises around her neck and arms.

“It means exactly the same thing I’ve been  trying to talk to you about for days, Xilä. I’m not the only liar here. You won’t tell me shit!”

“Oh this again?” She rolled her eyes. “Teyam, I keep telling you, I’m f-”

“Fine?” he finished sarcastically. “Yeah, so you’ve said a few times,” he snarked. “When are we going to stop with the pretending, Xilä?”

“I’m not doing this with you right now,” she snapped. “Are we going or not?” she asked quietly, not even glancing in his direction as she walked right out of the small tent.

“There you go, walking away from me again,” Neteyam muttered to himself with a rub to an eye before he followed after her. He was fucking exhausted.

He caught up to her within four long strides and reached out to link their fingers together. Xilä didn’t pull away, she never did- even after many recent spats, if anything she’d always hold on just as tightly, almost as if he’d disappear.

Halfway through their walk to her sister’s, Neteyam broke the silence.

“We should probably discuss our living arrangements… I know it’s only temporary but I hate where we are right now. I know you do too,” he joked lightly, recording it as a win when she broke out into a smile of her own, nose wrinkling just the way he liked it.

“It is awfully cramped,” she agreed, “and low hanging… I feel for your poor head every time you want to stand up straight,” she laughed. “When do you think we can move back into our home? I miss our own bed.”

Neteyam shot her a sideways glance, hiding his surprise. “You want to move back there?”

“Well, yes. It’s our home. Don’t you?”

When he didn’t immediately answer her, she stopped in her tracks and tugged his arm to halt him too. “Teyam?”

“I thought you wouldn’t want to go back there. I mean- well after what happened. It’s just bad memories, baby. Why don’t we start over somewhere new? There’s a vacancy near my parent’s place. One of the council members relocated their family and I heard the place is great. I can help Jxo do some repairs and remodeling if we need it. We can even get all new shit too, what do you think?”

“But…but it’s our home…we can make our own memories there, erase the bad,” she urged with a tilt of her head, not understanding his want for a new place.

He pulled her in with a warm palm behind her neck, the other spanning her ribs, thumbs gently brushing her skin. “Is that what you want?” he asked with a searching look.

Xilä frowned up at him in confusion. She didn’t understand why he’d even moved them into a temporary tent in the first place and now even more so his lack of enthusiasm to return to their home.

She parted her lips to respond but he continued speaking before she could. “Think about it first, okay, sweetheart? We’ll do whatever you’re comfortable with but,” he heaved a breath and hesitated as if he should say more, “just promise me you’ll really think about it.”

“Alright,” she nodded, still frowning up at him.

He simply ducked his head to kiss away her pout, then pulled her along with him again.

Their time at her sister’s was eventful. Babies always had a way of easing tension and making anyone feel better.

Xilä kissed and cuddled her niece and nephew for most of the morning, internally swooning whenever her husband interacted with them in any sort of capacity. He was so gentle with them and although the twins had grown from when last she’d seen them, they looked practically tiny in his arms.

“If you don’t give that man a baby soon, Xilä…” D’avi muttered to her quietly as she pretended to busy herself with chopping fruit. “I swear I’m surprised you’re not already pregnant just by the way he’s devouring you with his eyes. Great Mother, he looks like he’s about ready to pounce right here and now.”

“What are you-” Xi’s words died on her tongue when she caught sight of her mate’s heated gaze from across the room. Heated was maybe the wrong word, he was feral- hungry. She glanced away quickly to hide her blush and squeezed her thighs together to help soothe the ache of sudden arousal- an act that did not go unnoticed by Neteyam.

His stare was immovable as he and an oblivious Yalnïk spoke amongst themselves.

D’avi’s eyes bounced between the mated pair, amusement quirking at her lips. “Three weeks.”

“What?” Xi asked distractedly, attention falling to the woman beside her as she shuffled the baby boy around when he released a little fuss from her lack of attention.

“Okay fine maybe four just because I’m sure he’ll want to wait for your bruises to fade a little more before he sends you into a good old proper bliss. If he’s like this all because you’re holding a baby, Eywa only knows what he’s like all the time. Is he rough with you? I’ll bet he is. He looks like he can be downright dangerous in that dep-”

“D’avi!” she hissed, scandalized.

“What?” her sister laughed. “I’m just calling it as it is. That man is completely obsessed with you, Xilä and I’ll bet-”

“Shush!” Xilä shot her a “shut up now,” glare when her mate began to make his way over to them with L’eya in his arms.

“D’av, I think she needs a feeding,” he said, stooping to hand over the whining babe who was gnawing on her little fist. “I’ll take over for you.”

“You’re sweet,” she smiled, taking her baby girl and moving over so Neteyam could resume her prep work.

Xilä stared at his hands while he worked, teeth sinking into her bottom lip as she appreciated his fingers, they were long and thick, strong yet gentle…and they could do wondrous, wondrous things to her. She watched the way they moved, following the raised veins on the back of his hands before getting distracted by his forearms, and then his biceps and then-

A shrill cry escaped baby L’eo.

“Aw L’eooo, I’m sorry baby. I’m here, helllooo. Hi, hi.” Xi cooed and awed and smiled as she bounced the unhappy baby boy. “Are you hungry too? Hmm?”

“I’ll take him. They’re way overdue for a nap now,” Yalnïk said, reaching down to take his son gently, disappearing behind their privacy partition.

“Fruit, babe?” Neteyam asked, offering her a piece of melon tree fruit.

“Yes ple-mmm,” she squeaked, when he pressed the slice between her lips, thumb sinking in and brushing her tongue for a fraction of a second before it was quickly swiping at her bottom lip and down her chin.

She eyed him suspiciously when he leaned on a hand to loom over her.

“I’m going to put L’eya down for a nap!” D’avi announced louder than necessary as she too disappeared behind their private quarters, grin wide and giddy.

“Good?” Neteyam asked, doing a far better job than she was, of ignoring her sister’s over the top antics.

Xi nodded as she slowly chewed. “It’s sweet,” she whispered, licking her lips unconsciously.

Neteyam followed the movement, gaze hypnotized by her mouth. His free hand circled her thigh, fingers coming dangerously close to her already wet center. “Should I have a taste too?”

Her chest heaved, eyelashes fluttering and eyes glazing over. “Yes.”

His kiss was a peck at first, almost playful. And then they were both sinking into it. Her wrists locked behind his neck and their tongues and lips and teeth synced in a familiar but well missed dance.

“I want you…now,” he declared against her lips, grip tightening around her thigh.

Xilä’s hips jumped at the touch. “I- um, y- okay. Yes. Now. Now,” she rushed, pushing at his chest, but Neteyam was calm and collected as ever.

“Go say goodbye to your sister and her mate. Thirty seconds,” he all but ordered.

Flustered, she scrambled to her feet on shaky legs and poked her head through the curtain divider, only to be met with an already peeping D’avi- one breast exposed as L’eya hungrily suckled against her.

“D’avi!” she hissed. “By Eywa you are just like Sal.”

“Hey! I reject that. I am not as bad as our mother,” she protested, showing not even an ounce of shame at being caught.

Xilä bit the inside of her cheek to quiet her laughter. “I’m going now.”

“Yeah, no shit. Have fun getting dicked out by your- mmpff!” Yalnïk appeared behind her, palm covering his mate’s blabbering mouth.

“Thanks for coming by, Xi,” he said with an over polite grin mixed with an embarrassed grimace.

The second she stepped back into the main room, Neteyam was snatching her hand and dragging her out with a, “let’s go already!”

“Shh, the babies,” she chastised with a giggle.

They hadn’t had sex since her return. Neteyam had flat out refused the two times she’d initiated, citing she was still on healer ordered bed rest.

There was an unspoken urge now.

Desperate.

Maddening.

Xilä was eagerly climbing into bed and pulling at the ties of her top the second they entered their temporary, cramped space.

An “ooff” escaped her when Neteyam pushed her forward, brandishing a spank to her ass before he covered her with his body, attacking her neck with noisy smacks and nips.

She arched when he ground his hips into hers, fingers becoming frustrated by the knots of her clothes. Impatient, he was quickly tearing and ripping them apart until she was bare to him.

“God- oh Eywa. Baby-” He mouthed down the line of her spine, sucking at the base of her tail which emitted the most arousing sound from her throat.

“Now. Net-ngh. Please just- ah!”

He sank two fingers into her heat without warning, making them both moan in unison. “Fuuuucking hell, baby. You’re drenched and so tight, shit. On your knees, ass up,” he ordered.

Xi panted as he stretched her, hips greedily moving in time with his fingers. Her hands fisted in their sheets when he squeezed her tail.

There was nothing sweet or gentle about their lovemaking. It was all carnal and needy, wild and urging.

In one swift moment his fingers were replaced by something much much bigger. Curses flew from his lips and Xilä screamed at the sudden sensation. The stretch was painfully good.

His hips pulled back then snapped again, making them both groan. And then Neteyam was fucking her ruthlessly, thrusts brutal and sloppy. He used her hips as his anchor, palms only leaving her every now and again to purple her ass when he’d send another spank her way.

It was loud and crude and messy. Full of bites, wild snarls and profanity.

Molten heat thrummed in her belly and the air rushed out of her when he collapsed over her completely as they both reached near their peaks quickly.

“Fuck, fuck fu- oh God you’re so fucking tight Xilä!”

“Neteyaaam!” Her mouth lulled open as the fire erupted, Neteyam’s teeth sinking into her neck as he spilled inside her heat just as a powerful orgasm hit her.

They were both panting and covered in sweat by the end of it and Xilä’s poor knees buckled then gave up when his weight became too much.

One of his hands stretched out to entwine with hers while the other sneaked under to fondle her breast.

“I missed you,” he whispered, so quietly Xi thought she imagined it.

“I missed you,” she sighed.

They basked in the quiet until he grew hard once more- still fully sheathed inside of her. He fucked her again, but far softer this time, slowly and leisurely, drawing out her orgasm until she became putty in is hands, all babbling and pliant and so fucking sexy.

When she eventually escaped his clutches, she ventured into their tiny and almost nonexistent kitchenette, ridiculously dehydrated, desperate to quench her thirst.

“Xilä Sully, I swear if you’ve left our bed to brew that stupid Qla’ira root tea after everything that’s happened, I’m gonna fucking lose it.”

Xi choked on air and turned to stare at her husband’s sprawled position- one arm covering his eyes, legs splayed and dick hard once again as his tail sailed lazily.

“Uh- nope, just getting good old regular water, if that’s okay with you,” she sassed quite sarcastically.

He peeked out at her as if making sure, then shot her a smile that did all kinds of things to her.

“That’s fine with me,” he said cheekily. “Now hurry up. It’s almost time for your second course of meds and I’d very much like to make you scream my name one last time before I have to get your lunch prepared.”

Xilä choked on her water this time around.

~

The nights were always the worst for Xilä. She could put on a brave face during the day, but when her eyes closed at night, there was no hiding it.

Li’ona haunted her dreams with a vengeance.

Her father- T'shteyo.

Kayoanaska.

Su’ko.

The cave.

Blood.

Death.

Tonight she was trapped in a moving metal box. Blood coated Askadu’s gaunt and aged face. There were chains clinking with a chiming echo all around her. Vhin was clawing at her. Su’ko’s threats on Neteyam’s life played in a loop.

We’ll string him up right beside your father.

We’ll string him up right beside your father.

A knife.

A struggle.

Her screams.

Death!

Xilä flew up into a seated position with a heaving gasp- panting and shaking severely. Disorientated, she tried to catch her bearings. 

Where was she? 

Panic crippled her for far too many seconds long before her mind registered her location.

Not a ship.

Not Li’ona.

Not the cave.

She wiped at the sheen of sweat coating her skin, cheeks leaking tears she hadn’t realized she’d shed.

Head following the tail wrapped around her thigh, Xilä breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that Neteyam was still asleep. Guilt always bothered her whenever she’d waken him with one of her night terrors…he needed his rest.

It took her a minute to properly ground herself, and then she was carefully easing out from her mate’s hold and swinging out of bed to pull on the nearest top and skirt.

Exiting their tent, she shuddered when the nippy air hit her, but she didn’t mind since it cooled her heated skin. She breathed in deeply, trying her very best to practise the exercises Mo’at taught her.

She was here. She was safe. She was loved.

Her feet seemed to move on their own accord, following the carved out paths of the Omaticaya camp, blindly walking into the soft glowing night.

Or not as blindly as she thought…

Without paying attention, Xilä somehow found herself standing in front of her home. She hadn’t been here since that night.

She hesitated, then, finally finding the courage, she climbed the steps, entered and with shaking fingers she flicked on the tiny switch that illuminated the space in soft artificial light.

A harsh dose of reality hit her when she saw the interior.

Tears sprang in her eyes at the sight of the untouched scene.

Their home was…

Like a floodgate opening, a wounded cry escaped her lips… and the scenes played out before her like one of those human “movies”.

T'shteyo entering their home. His threats, his attack. Her retaliation. The things did- he’d beaten her, hurt her. Drugged, then took her from her home.

Xilä saw herself dragged by the hair, tackled to the ground, struggling as calloused hands closed around her throat- squeezing and squeezing.

Her breathing came out in heavy pants now and she stumbled forward, feet colliding with a pillow- the fort…Tuk…

What if the little girl had slept over that night like she wanted too?

Xilä’s chest tightened.

She slowly approached the pile of splinters that had once held her husband’s prized possessions, the weapons he’d collected and crafted over the years- plunge!

Lips trembling, the memory was clear before her eyes. She’d held the knife, she’d stabbed  him. Unseeingly she followed the dot, dot, dot pattern of crimson droplets on the floor. It led her to their private room.

The muted fumes of dried pungent blood was strongest here. The room was sparse, most of their possessions were gone or ruined.

This was not the home she remembered. It was a nightmare.

Overwhelmed, she spun around the room, flashbacks attacking her mind- drowning her, suffocating. She couldn’t breathe.

“You’re lucky he’s not here tonight. I was planning on killing him before we left.”

Air!

Breathe Xilä!

Xilä stumbled out of their room the exact moment someone entered the tent. Eyes blurred by tears, she blinked rapidly to be sure she wasn’t hallucinating. At the threshold stood her husband- a very distressed and panic stricken Neteyam.

Her mate was panting as if he’d been sprinting. His shoulders slumped, a heavy gush of air releasing in utter relief at the sight of her.

Jaw tightening, nostrils flaring, he took a step back, only to approach her in two fast strides. “What is the matter with you? You can’t disappear on me like that, Xilä! What the hell were you thinking just leaving in the middle of the night without telling me anything!” he yelled.

He was angry, no… he was terrified- trembling in distress as furious unshed tears clouded his vision. But then he was instantly deflating when he took in the state she was in. “Baby… Xi, what-”

Xilä crumbled and he was there to catch her.

Sobs wracked her punishingly. She cried for herself, for her husband, for the pain she’d been holding in.

It was gut wrenching, but Neteyam held her the entire time, sinking them to the floor and rocking her in his lap.

“I’m s-sorry. I’m so sorry Te-”

“Shhhh, no, don’t do that,” he soothed, brushing her apologies away. “I’ve got you sweetheart, I've got you,” he cooed, palms caressing her, giving as much comfort as possible.

A few of his own tears escaped him, but he swallowed down his need to fall apart. She needed him.

When her sobs eventually quieted into sniffles and the occasional shudder, he pleaded with her, “Xi, I- please talk to me. I can’t stand you shutting me out. This pretending thing, it’s- I can’t watch you do it anymore. You’re killing me, baby.”

Her head drew backwards to better see him, and whimper escaped her, he looked so… so distraught.

“Is it- is it me, Xi?” He tensed, waiting for her answer. He had always blamed himself for it all- from the get go, but deep down, he feared that maybe she did too.

“What are you talking about?”

“I wasn’t here. I left you and I-” His speech was cut off by her fingertips.

“Don’t do that,” she said sternly, using his own words back at him. “It’s not you- never you,” she whispered fiercely, gentle fingers gripping at his nape.

He sighed, disappointed that she was still holding back. Taking a leap for the both of them, he circled her wrists as if it were his lifeline and geared himself up to speak.

“I haven’t told you this but, I didn’t deal with you being kidnapped very well… I was an emotional mess and a real jerk to the people who were just trying to help me get you back. It brought out a real ugly side of me, a side that didn’t care about the lives I was taking or the lengths I was willing to go to.”

He wiped away the lone tear that escaped her and mildly joked, “Don’t get me wrong, but I don’t regret most of the things that I probably should. It all just showed me that you matter way more to me than I can even comprehend… Xilä, I’ve never loved someone as much as I love you, which is fucking terrifying- like I need you to understand that every time I think I’ve found the limit for just how much you mean to me, I realized that I’m not even an ounce close.”

Xi blinked, digesting everything he’d said, unsure where to even start. “I- I didn’t know all of that. Are you doing better now?”

“Than before? Yeah, I got you back… but you’re still making me worry. I see you struggling, baby. You don’t need to keep it all in. I don’t want you to.” He tucked a braid behind her ear. “What happened to you out there, Xilä?”

She bit her lip, brows drawn together as she considered his words. Xi shrank inwards, unable to face him as she finally recanted her story.

Over the next half hour all she did was talk, and all he did was listen, gaze zeroed in on her lips to not miss out on anything. It was difficult to hear- all of it. At the mention of Su’ko’s intention and attempt to claim her, Neteyam made a soft, wounded noise as if he’d been physically punched in the gut.

By the end he had a million questions he wanted to ask, but the main nagging one tore from his lips before he could help himself- only it came out harsher than he intended.

“He touched you?”

Xi flinched at his tone, then nodded ever so reluctantly. “Not- not badly though- it wasn’t as bad as you’re probably thinking. It-” She stopped to think of how to better phrase it. “Su’ko he just…”

She was downplaying it.

He knew it and she knew it.

“Where.”

“What?”

“Where did he touch you?” He took her hand and squeezed gently. “Show me.”

So she showed him. Her fingers started at her hairline, trailing slowly to meet her cheek, neck, waist, ending at her ankle which was circled by an ugly looking chain-like imprint.

When she was done, Neteyam was kissing her palm and whispering words that didn’t quite reach her ears. His lips found her hairline, and then he was kissing and caressing every inch of her she’d just shown him.

It was intimate, soft and unexpected, but not sexual in the slightest. Soon he was pushing her backwards as he moved down her body, going over each spot with determined precision.

And although her tears had dried by now, a wave of emotion rocked her as he kissed her skin. It was as if he were washing away Su’ko’s touch- replacing them with his own.

Xilä reached for him the second he’d finished with her ankle, lips seeking out his to pour out her own form of attention, apology…gratitude.

“How do you feel?” he asked as they sat side by side now, both quietly observing the shambles of their home.

“Better. So much better,” she smiled. “Thank you… I don’t know what I ever did to deserve yo- don’t laugh,” she chastised, unable to help the giggle that slipped her. “I’ve done nothing but cause you trouble ever since I came to the forest and I’ll bet you wished you chose som-”

He shut her up by claiming her mouth again, a bit more aggressive this time, with a bite to her jaw and a pinch to her butt when he pulled away. “Don’t even finish that thought.”

“Bossy,” she grouched with little heat.

Xilä sighed when she spotted one of her most beloved trinkets from Tuk, smashed into pieces. “We can’t stay here, can we?”

“No… I don’t think I can do it,” he admitted. “We need a new start, Xi. This place will only haunt us.”

“Alright, you're not wrong.”

“Come on.” He helped her get to her feet and drew her into his arms. “We leave it all here tonight, okay? The bad memories included. The moment we leave here, we’re starting over. Only good things ahead. Agreed?”

She nodded. “Agreed.”

“Alright, I can’t stay a second longer. Let’s go, babe.”

On their way out she asked, “Can we at least keep the tapestry?”

“The one on the ground covered in blood? Yeah I don’t think so, Xi. No.”

She gave an exaggerated pout, playfully swatting him with her tail.

“I’ll get you a new one. Promise.”

~

In the few weeks that followed, Neteyam and Xilä poured all of their free time and energy into fixing up their new home.

They went with the evicted one his mother had told him about. It was large, very large and Xilä was hesitant at first because she didn’t know what they’d do with all that free space.

But as they viewed every empty room, one after the other flashes of a possible future hit her. She smiled as she imagined the rooms filled with toys and clutter and the sounds of running little feet and happy shrieks and giggles.

She had a feeling her husband was thinking the same thing since he pointed out a beam that would “be perfect to track the kids’ heights.”

One perk she was also loving was that they now had access to their own personal water stream. The tent lined the same perimeter as the Sully’s home- four tents down, to be specific, so it shared the same little river trail.

Neteyam didn’t return to his duties all at once at first. He was still very uncomfortable leaving Xi on her own. So whenever he and Jxo worked on repairs in their free time- the father-in-law teaching him a thing or two during the process, he used that time to slowly ease into their separation.

And since Xilä had returned to her lessons- three days a week instead of her usual five, she too was able to help out where she could- not that they let her do anything too strenuous.

Two days after they finally moved, they hosted a small housewarming with their closest friends and family- which turned out to be more people than they thought.

However, with all the free space it wasn’t cramped but allowed for everyone to be comfortable as they lounged and chatted, ate and indulged in a few fun games.

“Full house you got here, brother,” Lo’ak joked when he approached Neteyam, drinks in hand.

Neteyam snorted in response, accepting his drink with again quiet thanks. He glanced around at their main room.

Jake and Jxo always seemed to gravitate towards each other during any family event he’d noticed. The two men- joined by Stephan this time, sipped on their drinks as they chatted, which included lots of head nods and folded arms.

A rowdy game was being played in the center of the room by Yalnïk, his twin, Xilä, Kah’lee and most surprisingly, Neytiri and Sal who’d just joined. Neteyam wondered if it were his mate who’d gotten the two women to actually play as well.

D’avi and her sister-in-law seemed to be scheming, perhaps playing matchmaker as they teased a blushing Tasam and Kiri all whilst Spider shot pointed glares from his own card game with a few of Neteyam’s patrol buddies.

Kids were running and screaming about- Tuk having company her age as Yalnïk’s twin and his wife had brought along their brood of children.

Ze’lu was chasing after them, catching and tossing them up in their air as they shrieked with excitement. Meanwhile a less than covert Leati kept shooting the man fleeting hungry glances- looking every bit like she enjoyed what she was seeing.

“You seem happy,” Lo’ak said, pulling his attention away again.

“I am. Very.”

His brother nodded and an odd expression crossed his face.

“What is it?” Neteyam asked.

“I wanted you to know before I told anyone else… I spoke to mom and dad and I uh, I’m leaving in a couple days. Heading out to Awa'atlu.”

“Awa'atlu? But our trip’s not due for another couple months why would-” He paused. “Oh. Ohh. Tsireya…”

Lo’ak clenched his jaw. He didn’t think it was that obvious. “What? Are you going to tell me I’m wasting my time too?”

Neteyam’s brows shot up at the accusation. “Who the hell told you that?”

“Spider,” he spat with an eye roll. “What does he know?”

“Hmm,” Neteyam clicked his tongue and grinned. “Well I was actually going to say about damn time.”

“Has it been that obvious?”

“Pretty much, baby brother. What got you to finally go after all this time?”

“Uh, you actually. Well you and Xi,” he admitted sheepishly with a scratch to the back of his head.

“Oh?”

“You two are… well I want what you two have… I saw what you were like when she was gone. And when you got her back I- I dunno. I’ve never loved anyone that much. I want that kind of love. The kind that’s sweet but all intense. I tried to find it here but no one…it’s dumb and I know I was a stupid teenager back then but I’ve only ever felt a semblance of it with her… I thought I needed to know for sure before I could move on properly. Does that make any sense?”

“Of course it does. I’m proud of you for doing this, Lo’ak. And ignore Spider, I’m sure he’s only said that because he’s going to miss you.”

His brother grinned. “Thanks… Spider thinks she already mated up with a rowdy bunch of babies,” he said bitterly. “I know he means well and doesn’t want to see me hurt but…some stubborn part of me thinks she waited… for me.”

“Well. Make that two of us, brother.”

“Got any advice on how to win her parents over? From what I remember, Tonowari was an intimidating fucker.”

Neteyam laughed. “Oh yeah, that he was. But Jxo’s got him beat. Don’t worry, Yalnïk and I will give you some tips before you go.”

After chatting for another couple minutes, they were interrupted by Xilä who came over to wrap him up in a hug.

Neteyam pressed a chase kiss to her lips, grinning wide at the sight of her infectious smile. “Having fun, sweetheart?”

“Mhm, yep. You boys, your mother is incredibly competitive. She is cut-throat and no joke.”

The brothers cackled, spotting their mother who was now head to head with the only other final player- Yalnïk. Sal and the others were howling in delight at the pair. It was refreshing to see.

“Dammit, XiXi, will you keep your sister on a leash, she looks like she’s stirring up shit again,” Lo’ak complained with no real heat and a laugh. “Shit. I better get in there before a fight breaks out. He might be little, but he can cause some serious damage.”

Xi and Neteyam watched him leave, both releasing laughs of their own at the sight of him talking down an overly jealous looking Spider who seemed about ready to kill an unsuspecting Tasam.

“Uh-o. Kiri’s got her hands full now… D’avi!” she hissed loudly. “Stop!” she mouthed.

D’avi shot her an innocent look before going over to check on her little ones who were being happily doted on by her mother and Mo’at.

Xilä sighed and slumped into her chuckling husband. He squeezed her gently nosing at her sweet smelling hair.

“Want to go flying later?” he asked. “As much as I enjoy this chaos, I love when it’s just the two of us.”

She nodded in agreement against his chest. Peering up at him, a burst of happiness filled her. “I love you.”

He stared right back. “I love you too, baby.”

~

“Why is it so difficult to admit that you like him?” Xi asked her friend as she bounced a gurgling L’eya on her knees.

“Because I so clearly don’t!” Leati snapped.

Kay’hlee and Xilä exchanged knowing glances, both doing a poor job of hiding their amusement.

“If it’s any consolation, you’re all my brother talks about at home. He’s smitten with you… Hypothetically, if he did sum up the courage to ask, would you agree to court him?”

Leati’s mouth opened and closed comically, no sound coming out. “I- pfft. What? As if he would ask me to- he… he talks about me?”

“Constantly.”

The poor warrior flushed. Taking pity, Xi removed the attention from her.

“What about you Kah’lee? You and W’aote look pretty cozy lately,” she teased, bringing the baby up to plant kisses all over her chubby cheeks, making her squeal in delight, gummy and drooly grin all on display.

“W’aote is… wild. I never thought I’d be interested in someone like him, but,” she shrugged with a stupid, swoony expression Xi was all too familiar with, “he makes me laugh, all the time and although he’s insanely unromantic and sticks his foot in his mouth half the time, he can be a real softy… The sex is the added bonus- it’s absolutely mind-blowing.”

Xilä and Leati broke out into giggles, L’eya joining in as if she understood their conversation. The introverted and soft spoken Kah’lee surprised Xi more and more every time they hung out.

Xi made her way around the room, spending pockets of time with each of their guests. Midway a conversation between her, Neytiri and Sal, a pair of little arms hugged her from behind, small chin poking the top of her head as a body sagged against her.

“Hi, Tuk,” she greeted.

“Hi, Xi.” Tuk’s face hid in her shoulder with a tiny pout before she plonked herself next to Xi.

“What’s with the face?” Xi laughed, observing the way the little girl stared at the baby as if she were unsure how to feel.

Tuk loved L’eya- and Leo, but sometimes her jealousy got in the way. She was no longer the youngest, and more than once she’d express her unhappiness by vying for the attention of either her parents or siblings if they held either of the babies for too long.

Shaking her head in response, she cuddled into Xi’s side, defiant glare set on L’eya who blinked back at her with big gold eyes.

“Tuktirey,” Neytiri said in a very motherly warning tone.

In the end, Tuk grew bored of the adult conversation and chose to play in Xi’s hair instead.

“How have you been doing, Xi?” her mother-in-law asked.

“Good, really good. I’m sleeping better and finally off the tonics,” she said. “I’ve got my support team especially to thank,” she directed right at Sal. “And my husband of course. Your son is a very patient man,” she joked, gaining chuckles in response.

And it was all the truth. Xilä was doing better. She still had the occasional nightmare or two, but her weekly sessions with the Tsahìk helped plenty. She also vented quite a lot to her mother. Sal was a saint, and although Neteyam did a fantastic job, sometimes a girl just needed her mother.

“Time heals all wounds,” Moat would say.

Her bruises did fade, and her cuts healed nicely, only the one on her cheek left a very faint scar- a scar that her husband was forever kissing or simply brushing with his lips or knuckles.

As the two women continued to chat, Xilä’s gaze found her mate on the other side of the room. He was all grins as he and some of the guys partook in a boisterous game. He glimpsed her way, as if he’d been doing so constantly throughout the afternoon, double taking when he caught her already staring.

“You okay?” he mouthed.

She nodded with a wide beam.

He shot her a silly wink before turning back to his game, loud cheers and groans erupting with whatever play had just transpired.

Later that night, their parents were the last to leave. Hugging them all goodbye, she gave Jake his very own entire loaf of HoneyCornbread she’d purposely set aside for him- much to her father-in-law’s delight.

“Leave it, sweetheart,” Neteyam said, stopping her from starting the clean up when they were finally alone. “W’aote and Spider lost against me and Yalnïk. They’re on clean up duty, so they’ll come over in the morning first thing.”

A laugh escaped her. “Well, alright then. Do you want to go flying now?” she asked, releasing her hair from the ridiculous updo Tuk had put it in, unaware of her advancing mate. “Or um, something else?”

“Something else?” he asked, capturing her hips with his hands.

Her head tipped backwards, expression telling him everything he needed to know.

“Oh that something else…”

She squeaked when he lifted her by the thighs. “I mean we don’t have too, but..”

“What do you want then? Tongue or fingers, Xi?”

“Both. Always both.”

“There she is! She’s back!” Neteyam hooted, jostling her in his arms as he made a beeline for their private quarters. “My greedy little mate is back!”

~

Gasp! A post? In two weeks?! Who is this?

Happy New Year Lovelies!

Shout out and big thanks to my friend Tori, I couldn't have done it without her.

As always, please let me know what you think :)

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[the-fluff-piece]

"He did WHAT?" - one piece guys dealing with your toxic asshole ex - headcanon

Summary: lots of people have one - the toxic asshole ex boyfriend that did some horrible stuff to you. You told your new OP bf about what your previous relationship was like after some time to explain some of your more unusual behaviours. What might happen when they get the chance to serve that dick some revenge?

A fluff collection of headcanons about Law, Sanji, Zoro and Luffy giving that bastard what he deserves.

And check out my headcanon masterlist

Cw: mentions of unspecific abusive behaviours and trauma responses, and of course, comic violence like it happens in the show.

That said...Enjoy some revenge fantasies! Share in the comments what you want them to do to your asshole ex!

Disclaimer, I feel I need to say this) : I am no psychiatrist! This is just some silly headcanons and in no way a real help. If you feel that things people did to you years ago still haunt you, get professional help, it's really good!

Law

When he first hears the story about how you have been treated, his expression darkens. "I am here now, he's gone" is what he tells you - and himself, too. But it gnaws at him. He hates manipulators that put people in literal or psychological cages. And he hates that it happened to you.

When they meet in person, Law will rearrange your ex's body and is open for your suggestions. Why not replace his head with a cannonball and take his dick as a trophy? He doesn't need to spew abusive bullshit anymore and no one needs his sexual attention anyways.

Law will sleep better, knowing that he did to him what you wouldn't have because you are too good a person

He is not one for elaborate compliments and he is no therapist, but he will try to help healing the wounds you sustained by being the most supportive and positive boyfriend you ever had. If you need his shoulder, he is there. If you feel bad, he will do anything to make you feel better. He will not make you do anything you don't feel comfortable with.

Sanji

As you casually tell him about your past relationship he catches fire and has to run around the ship a few times to cool down. He switches between pampering you extra, extra EXTRA nice and angry mutterings to himself. He promises you if he ever meets that guy, he is going to kick him through all the grand line and back again

When the moment comes, Sanji switches into total ruffian mode. You have never heard that string of merciless trash talk from anyone before and it doesn't take long until he has totally set off your ex, luring him into throwing the first punch. It is, of course, futile, but Sanji takes his time to finish him off. He should, after all, learn that no one should hurt his lady.

He is visibly relieved to have finally gotten revenge for the unacceptable things that guy did to you. He is awaiting your praise eagerly.

Since he knows what it feels like first hand, he feels even closer to you and tells you his stories if you want to hear them. You will heal together, in time. The memories will fade and be replaced with better ones you make together. You support each other in breaking through the self harming behaviour you developed.

Zoro

His initial reaction to your explanations about why you still feel uncomfortable doing certain things is total helplessness. He cannot fathom that someone would ever take the time and effort to systematically destroy their partner. He believes you, but it is so far out of his own experience that it is hard to grasp for him.

It makes him angry, however. Because that dickhead insulted you you feel insecure? What can be broken can be fixed is Zoro's motto, so he will comment positively on everything every time. Even though he is not very creative, his compliments come from the heart, and you feel it.

When he finally meets the guy he is a bit disappointed. That is no worthy opponent. He doesn't honor him with the use of his swords. Zoro will grab him by the collar and throw him off the next cliff. "For what you did to y/n, you coward."

The job is finished, no need to talk about it anymore and forget the bastard ever existed.

Luffy

When you merely tell him about it he will think you got over it just like he doesn't stay angry for long. But when you cry the first time or refuse to do something fun because of him he realises that you are still affected by what happened to you. He will not have it.

When they meet and your shitty ex makes a mean comment? Luffy gets his murder expression and punches that guy to the other side if the city.

You get luffys hat whenever you need emotional support. No questions asked. You get to sit in his favourite spot whenever you want to. You even get the last bite of delicious food if it's what you need.

#i am a bad person and very petty and i wish my ex all the worst #one piece fanfiction #one piece x you #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law x y/n #trafalgar law #trafalgar one piece #zoro x reader #law x reader #law x y/n #trafalgardwaterlaw #sanji headcanons #trafalgar law headcanons #one piece headcanons #law headcanons #zoro headcanons #one piece #vinsmoke sanji #roronoa zoro #zoro roronoa #zoro x you #zoro x y/n #op zoro #op sanji

[grandlinedreams]

Heya!

I wanted to ask if you could write some TrafLaw x fem!reader but she reminds him of Corazon (the way she acts, dresses and smokes her cigs)? At first he doesn’t know what to think/feel/do due to his past, but eventually he falls for her?🌸✨

That would be amazing since I really like your work and story telling ~🙏🏻💙

Thank you!!🫶🏻

Hey, absolutely!! Thank-you so much for requesting from me, it means a lot!

[heads up!: cigarette use, afab reader]

Law doesn’t believe in reincarnation. It’s too romantic of a notion, too hopeful to think that people can come back just because they’ve loved and been loved enough. And even if such things were possible with concrete proof, he doubts the universe would be so kind as to allow him something like that. 

And yet. 

You aren’t Corazon. He knows that – Corazon died years ago, a lifetime ago. If he thinks about it too long, he can still taste the gunpowder and smoke, feel the chill in his bones. He doesn’t believe in reincarnation, but there must be some kind of cosmic interference at play, comedy for how much of Cora he sees in you. 

And wishes he didn’t. 

At first, the similarities are coincidental. You like to smoke, just like him – a horrible habit when it comes to your health, but all he can do is keep reminding you, watching as you snuff it out with a sheepish grin when his gaze lingers too long. There’s the way you dress, too – again, not something specific to Corazon and Corazon alone, but it’s a little eerie that you have the same taste in fashion. (And then, the fact that Cora had been male, and you are not.)

It’s a lot of little things, too. The way you smile, the easy way that you interact with the crew – before you, Law had allowed himself to sometimes daydream about what it would’ve been like to have Cora here too. Lanky, clumsy, wonderful Cora. 

On days where the coincidental similarities are too much, he considers making you leave. You’re too much ㅡ too much like the man who'd fought to extend his borrowed time, let him steal too much of it at his expense. 

That wouldn't be fair to you, though. You don't know, you couldn't ㅡ because he asks you. If maybe, somehow, you'd once run into him.

"Nah," you answer when he asks, playing with your lighter. "Think I'd remember if I had. But this guy ㅡ Corazon, you said?” He watches the plush of your lips around your cigarette, the practiced flick of your finger against the lighter as you bring it up. He listens to it click, watches as you inhale, then exhale. “I think he’s proud of you, Captain. Proud that you didn’t let his efforts go to waste. That you’ve become someone worthy of following without being cruel.” 

Law wants to hate you, at that moment. Childish fury, irritation because you don’t know Cora, how dare you try to speak for him and try to say how he must feel? But you mean well, there’s no malicious intention with your words. So he bites back the instinctual vitriol, patches up that wound that never seems to heal.

He thinks he’s done well to keep his comparisons to himself outside of that conversation, but maybe he hasn’t – because somewhere down the line, he lets up. Lowers his guard just a little at a time, lets you in step by step. Uncharted waters that he treads oh-so-carefully – unexpected, but not wholly unwanted. 

“I’m not Corazon, Law.” Your tone is soft, an undercurrent of something that makes him look up from where he’d been studying and over at you. You’re tucked at the corner of his bed, jacket draped around your shoulders (black, just like his, but without the thick carpet of feathers). “You know that, right?”

He’s not sure where you’re going with this. “Of course I do,” he responds. “Is something wrong?”

You hesitate, attention drifting over his room. Everything has a place, of course, but there’s just enough disarray to be comforting. The papers stacked on every available surface of his desk, the books stacked precariously at the corner, bookmarked and worn thin by the repeated drag of fingers over text – all of it comes together in a way that’s unmistakably Law. 

You love it, love him – and while Law has yet to let something that vulnerable slip from his lips, the fact that he allows you to coexist here with him, outside the role of Captain and subordinate, is more than enough. 

“Nothing’s wrong,” you answer when he prompts with a call of your name, “I just…I wanted to make sure that you knew.” Anxiety makes your fingers twitch with the needed habit of a cigarette to soothe your nerves, but you don’t reach for one. You won’t smoke in here (and idly, you wonder if Law’s noticed the sharp decrease in that habit as a whole), and force yourself to meet his gaze. “I just don’t want this to be because I resemble him.” 

The fear that he’s only allowing you this close because you remind him of his savior has lurked for a while now and while you’re usually good at quieting it yourself, you need him to confirm that his feelings exist outside of the parallels that border on uncanny. 

Law is silent, staring at you until you look away, and his chest aches. He gets it, why you’d worry that he feels the way he does only for the idea of keeping whatever little mementos of Cora he finds as close as he can. That wouldn’t be fair to you, would be unspeakably cruel – and while he’s awkward with intimate emotion, that’s not something he’d ever do. 

“I know that you’re not him,” he begins, tone soft as he moves to sit next to you. “For one, you’re not as clumsy as he was. Nor do you have the knack for being on fire, which I’m grateful for.” He means for it to be in jest, but you still won’t look at him. He hesitates, then reaches for your hand. “I don’t like you because you look and act like Cora, [Name].” 

You move to pull your hand away, but his fingers slot through yours and curl so that you can’t, keeping you anchored to him. “It’s rude to try and leave when someone’s talking. Please listen.”

After a moment, your fingers curl around his. “Okay.” 

“Cora meant everything to me. He tried so hard to find a doctor who would treat me and when he couldn’t, he risked his own life to steal the ope-ope fruit so I could find a cure myself.” It hurts, prodding at that years old injury, the silent fear that he’d never live up to Cora’s expectations, make his sacrifice worth it. Some days, he still feels like the frightened, helpless child he’d once been. “But you…you aren’t him. You’re your own person, and I think it’d be incredibly unfair to pursue a relationship with you because of something as shallow as coincidental similarities.”

Finally, you turn back towards him. “So you like me–”

“Because you’re you,” he states firmly. “I know that I’m not the best at expressing things like this.” Too afraid to voice it out loud, for fear that it’ll jinx you, set you up for being taken from him. “I want you to stay with me, please. I want this to work.”

You could reject him. Untangle your hand from his, pull away entirely, go back to before – or leave entirely. But you don’t. Instead, you tighten your grip on his hand just a little more, let yourself lean over, head on his shoulder. Law stiffens for a moment, then relaxes, tips his head to rest against yours. 

“I love you,” you say, and Law doesn’t say it back – not yet, but he doesn’t have to. For now, this – the warmth of his body next to yours, the slight shift to press his lips to your hair – is more than enough.

#ㅡmine. #one piece x reader #one piece scenario #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #ㅡanswered. #–ml: law.

[ramlightly]

i’m sooo into malady and lapis. something about them just makes me want to *CRUNCH* down real hard you know. but also they feel so human and textured and ugh i love them.

so. what do they both love the most about each other? what made them know they were in love? what surprised them the most about each other? what are they like when they’re soft together?

Alright, this ended up being long, so I'll spare everyone and put a read more

what do they both love the most about each other?

Lapis really appreciates how honest Malady is. He doesn't hide anything, pretty blunt about it too. Not only this means that he can put his trust in Malady like he can with no other, something he cherishes deeply, but also Malady is very open with his love and affection.

Malady finds a lot of things about Lapis endearing - his cleverness, his music, his greediness - but is very fond of Lapis' soft heart underneath all of the crabbiness.

2. what made them know they were in love?

For Malady, it was pretty immediate lol. Once Lapis helped free him and they started working together, Malady realized "yep, I want to be with this person forever now" lol. Not quite love at first sight, but fairly close.

It took Lapis longer to wrap his brain around the idea. He kind of stumbled into the relationship, took them having sex for a multiple weeks for him to admit that he even had feelings in the first place lol. I don't know when exactly he figured it out, but I imagine it was something along the lines of seeing Malady smiling at him and feeling a bit funny about it before the realization him like a brick to the temple lol.

3. what surprised them the most about each other?

For Lapis, it's the types of specific knowledge and experience Malady has. It's easy to forget but Malady is like 200+ years old. Every once in a while Malady will casually reveal he's fairly fluent this random language because he spent seven years in the deserts, or how he met some historical figure from a hundred years ago. Stuff that's not a big deal to Malady but still catches Lapis off guard lol.

For Malady, it's how... brittle, I suppose, Lapis can be sometimes. Lapis presents himself as very in control and confident and clever at all time, and he is all of those things, but if you hit certain weak points he just snaps and crumbles. Hitting old emotional wounds that never really healed, things that Lapis would never ever talk about. Makes Malady fairly protective honestly lol.

4. what are they like when they’re soft together?

Lapis hates the soppiness of love poetry and songs, but even he has his moments of sentimentality, where he will softly mutter half remembered songs as he runs his fingers through Malady's tangled hair. Meanwhile Malady is a cuddler, he will hold Lapis close to him and not let go all night if he's allowed. He likes the feeling of Lapis' heart beating close to his.

#ask #malady #lapis #i have to go work now but please enjoy this rambling lol

[autistichalsin]

I have very complicated feelings about Halsin's Drow brothel dialogue that I want to share. I want to say, immediately, that I am not telling any other survivor how to feel about this, because we all have our own experiences that affect how we feel about this, and I will ask that you show me the same courtesy. I have had past posts of mine met with rudeness- from questioning whether I really had seen the scene in question to someone accusing me of having a "fetish" for rape recovery- telling me "go do Astarion's storyline instead"- to someone saying "the entire concept" (of trauma recovery, I guess?) is "western nonsense". Do not do that on this post.

The most common statements made as criticisms against Halsin's scene, post patch 5* are the following:

*Pre-patch 5, most of the criticism was about how out of left field it is and how there was no ability to follow up with Halsin about it/ask if he's okay.

It's OOC (or at least just nonsensical) for Halsin; he's a big, strong, wise Archdruid, so it makes no sense that he was raped.

Halsin obviously healed completely from his Drow-related trauma offscreen, and any statements from the player questioning this are condescension and/or infantilization and/or the same as demanding Halsin go through therapy onscreen- demanding all survivors have the exact same cookie-cutter reaction to be "valid".

The presence of the one rude "sounds traumatic, you may need to reflect on that" line means the entire scene is condescension as well.

Halsin's trauma isn't actually trauma/Halsin doesn't count as representation because it was not put in the story in good faith/was a joke, and it's insulting to change the scene to be more serious.

By changing these lines, the creators have prioritized one group of fans (those who wanted to see Halsin discuss what happened to him as an assault, not as a "fond memory") over another (those who felt this conversation was an indication Halsin had already had a complete recovery).

Gently and respectfully, I don't agree with any of these arguments. My feelings on these, point by point, are:

Rape can and does happen to anyone. Quite the opposite of being OOC for Halsin, it's important to have Halsin as representation alongside Astarion, to show that big, strong men can be victimized too, by any gender. Victimization can happen to a wide range of people, be committed by a wide range of people, and can have a wide range of effects on the survivor.

I love healed survivors, and I would love to see more in fiction. However, Halsin never once came across like a healed survivor to me, in this scene or otherwise. He came off like someone deep in denial (or perhaps just crisis mode) who was victim-blaming himself to downplay it. He called his rapists "hosts", himself a "guest, prisoner, and consort", himself a "foolhardy young Druid". Those are worrying ways to describe being made a sex slave for three years. I personally can't imagine how we were supposed to hear that repeated denial/downplaying/use of euphemism and infer healing from that. If that was truly what the writers intended, I think an exchange to the effect of "are you okay?" "Yes, it was a long time ago, and the wounds have healed" would have been acceptable- it's weird to think that wanting to be able to talk to Halsin after that and ask if he's okay is the same as "demanding he go through therapy for us" to some folks.

That one line isn't the best or most sensitively phrased, but it is HARDLY unique in that respect; there are many moments where your responses to delicate situations are awfully callous instead, even your "nice" ones. (See: immediately after Wyll gets his horns, where your nicest option is "The Blade of Frontiers has some explaining to do." No "oh my gods, are you okay? Are you in pain?") The lines following the nasty option include some wonderful choices (and a few callous ones, as per usual); "It's not for me to say- I wasn't there. But I'm here now, if you wish to talk," for example, which leads to Halsin thanking you and explaining that he hasn't had anyone to confide in for a very long time. Also, the offputting "you may need to reflect on that" option isn't the only way to get to the following lines; a Seldarine Drow, for example, can offer empathy by telling him he threaded the needle by surviving Lolth's pitiless followers at all. Sometimes, a writer's abstraction of situations like these can be really hard, and sometimes writers for dialogue trees fail to anticipate the responses players will want to give. (I.E. not foreseeing that players might want to sound less judgmental to Halsin's recovery, or that players' first concern will be with Wyll's wellbeing in the aftermath of him growing horns, not anger at his "dishonesty".) I would like alternatives to those callous responses, sure, but I don't think they imply bad intentions. Occam's razor and all that.

The truth is that we will never conclusively know what the intentions were behind the original version of that scene. However, in following with Occam's Razor, the simplest explanation is the best one, and it is almost always simpler to assume good intentions than to assume malice. With the care this game showed to rape, slavery, and other issues in the rest of the game, I find it much easier to believe that there was just bad conveyance of Halsin's past than I do that it was intended as a meanspirited joke against sexual assault survivors. Even if it was intended as a meanspirited joke, quite a lot of people had already found comfort in Halsin's character. There is no un-ringing the bell, so the best alternative was to improve the writing to address fan concerns.

Truthfully, any decision made could be argued to be prioritizing one group of fans over the other; if they had kept the status quo, they would have been prioritizing the group of fans who liked Halsin's downplaying of his trauma. Ultimately, Larian has shown that they enjoy making changes to the game over time (sometimes over the objections of fans, I.E. Gortash's letter); if they truly felt the true vision of their story was the original version and they felt it important to stick with it, they would have had no problem ignoring those fan complaints. Hell, one of THE most common complaints about Halsin is regarding his polyamory (especially from Early Access fans on the forums, who are quite vocal about feeling betrayed that Halsin isn't monogamous), and Larian has kept him poly because it is how they intended him to be. Larian didn't change Halsin's post-Drow scene solely because of fan outcry- they changed it because they wanted to. They have no problem keeping unpopular characterization beats and scenes in the game. If it were really a matter of "fan outcry = changed scenes" there would be an evil ending epilogue by now too.

Those are just my thoughts on the issue. I am leaving this untagged out of respect for other survivors who may not agree, but please feel free to reblog or comment- as long as discussion stays respectful.

[kedreeva]

Giving each other piercings or stick and pokes/queer bonding eddie & robin

(my inbox is open for ST prompts!)(Previous prompts)

------

"You gotta stop squirming," Eddie says for the umpteenth time, pausing with his hand hovering. "Make all the noise you want, but you gotta hold still."

Robin settles with a small whine, but she doesn't move when Eddie takes the needle back to her skin. She takes his offer, making a small noise every time he pokes, and he smiles as he tries not to laugh, which would be just as upsetting to his job as her squirming.

"I thought it would be a lot quicker than this," Robin tells him after another minute, voice strained.

"Faster isn't always better," says Eddie, glancing up long enough to give her a little wink.

"Ew," she says, with too much amusement to be serious. "I don't need to hear about that from you any more than Steve."

Eddie snorts and unconsciously sticks his tongue out the corner of his mouth while he works, poking and dipping wiping at the underside of her wrist intermittently. He's nearly done, and actually- "You're doing really well. Steve was much worse about it."

"Ha! I knew it!" she crows, and Eddie has to stop as her arm jerks like she's going to fist pump. He gives her a withering look and she deflates. "Oh, shit, sorry."

"It's not my skin," Eddie says as he takes her wrist back. "But I am almost, almost done. Try counting to 100 and I should be finished."

She sit through the rest of it admirably, stock still, staring straight ahead. He can practically hear her counting. He works to fill the last of the lines as quick as he can without rushing, now that he has a still canvas, and when she finally slouches a little, he pulls away triumphantly. He releases her wrist for her to inspect it, and grabs her other hand before she can touch it.

"NO touching," he says, strictly, and her spine bolts straight at the order. He grabs the stuff to clean it one last time. "You wash your hands before you touch it, and you only touch it to clean it when you replace the bandage, at least for a bit. It'll be art later- for now, treat it like it's an open wound."

"Right," she tells him, and he's glad he wrote down the instruction because he's pretty sure she wasn't listening.

Eddie cleans up the area and then tells her to wait a minute as he pulls off his gloves and reaches for the Polaroid camera Steve had gotten him. He'd thought it was a weird gift, all things considered, but the dozens of photos of Eddie and his friends plastered all over his walls has taught him differently. Similar ones, he knows, adorn Steve's room, now, sitting in between all the weird plaid lines.

"Hold it up, still don't touch," he says, leaning in toward her with the camera facing them. She grins big and flashes a peace sign with her newly-tattooed wrist facing out, and they both make faces as he snaps the shot. He passes it to her free hand while he bandages her wrist for her.

"Thanks," Robin says quietly, when he's finished. She glances up, hand over the bandage, and Eddie thinks yeah, she's not gonna leave that alone. "It looked nice, I think. I mean, it will once it heals."

Eddie nods, and they sit together as the photo develops. She passes it over when the contents are visible, and he inspects the little anchor on her wrist. He'd done one for Steve not long ago, on his other wrist, so that they could put the matching tattoos together while side by side.

"You should get one, too," Robin suggests.

He passes the photo back to her, so she can have one of those to match Steve's, too. "I never worked at Scoops."

"Yeah, but... you're his anchor, too, y'know?" she says. Then she shrugs, and clambers to her feet. "Or get something else, I dunno. You two should have a matching one, too. Bats!"

Eddie laughs, and gestures to his belly, to where he already bears scars that match Steve's. "The bats already took care of giving us matching marks."

Robin gives him a once over so full of something Eddie can't take that he turns to start collecting his gear up just to escape it. Doesn't help. He can still feel her watching him when she speaks.

"You didn't choose those," she says quietly. "Steve and I have... we have matching scars, too. Not on our skin, but we have them. We went through something awful together. So did you. And after it was over, you got to make the same choice we did, and you chose each other. You can choose a different mark to remember that by."

"Geeze, Buckley," he says, chest tight. "Going for the throat, huh?"

"It's what friends are for!" she says brightly. "C'mon! We're gonna be late for dinner. You already took forever!"

Eddie rolls his eyes. "Oh! And whose fault is that?" he says, but he finishes cleaning up and washing his hands as quick as possible, eager to get to dinner and see Steve again... and maybe a little to ask him about Robin's idea now, too.

(and if Steve immediately suggests a flashlight when Eddie tells him, if Steve blushes over admitting he's already thought about it, if Steve tells him I'd have my anchor on one hand and my guiding light on the other, well, that's a story for another time)

#stranger things #stranger things fic #eddie munson #Robin Buckley #wow i tagged this before on autopilot #steddie #at the end anyway #asks #askbox prompts #my writing

[levmada]

i feel like an elaboration of levi having stretch marks is in order... (if you want to ofc). but just imagine kissing them, him perhaps being slightly shy and a little insecure about them...

(referenced ask) yes please. | 1.3k

It’s sweltering that summer night, ungodly muggy, and so one of the rare times Levi is going to sleep with his shirt off. It’s the first time you’ve seen him shirtless since you’ve been together.

You dim down the lantern before he climbs into bed beside you, and pries you away from that and into his arms, making you giggle. Your cheeks feel hot—and it's not just the summer night. Until it gets too stuffy, you'll cuddle, and you're happy to put off separating for as long as possible.

Then you catch a look of the discolored myriad of stripes peaking out from under his bicep. Easier to see, swift curves line right where his arm and chest connects.

You peek curiously, because they don’t look like your run of the mill scars, and stroke one with the tip of your finger.

He makes a gruff noise of confusion and looks even more confused, frowning at your sudden fascination with a multitude of scars he can't remember the cause of. The thing that's always been strange to him is their dark tones, as if caused by a severe wound, but instead, they seemingly lie under the skin. No healing. Their existence, combined with placement under his biceps and other places has always unnerved him.

"Cute," you murmur as an explanation. "Sorry, I didn't actually expect you to have any of these. I'll stop."

"Have what? Scars?"

You raise a brow. "Stretch-marks?"

That clears up nothing for him. He gives you a blank stare as you kiss his bicep. The light press makes him bite back a shiver. He scowls instead.

You don't know exactly why they endear you to him so much. Those stripes are benign, really, but often looked at with insecurity—that they're marks of failure. But this is Levi, and he doesn't even know what they mean.

"You don't know what they are?"

"Not scars, apparently," he replies quietly.

They're harder to spot, the ones lining his outside his chest here and there. His discomfort is palpable, so in efforts to prove to him you're not criticizing him, you stroke his bare shoulders.

"Nope!—Well... They can appear from quick weight gain or loss. I guess they're like scars. They fade away over time," you explain. Your cheeks heat. "I just think it's kinda cute that you have them."

He stares while considering this information. "'Kind of'."

"A tiny bit." You smirk.

He glances at his arm. Cursory and quick. He's never thought much about his appearance since it matters so little, but he finds a rift in those feelings now. Insecurity. Not because of the marks themselves necessarily, but they tell a story of his past with none of his consent or control.

"I see."

"Mm." Caressing his other arm, you kiss more of the blackish-purple streaks, and dip your head to catch one of the lower ones. His eyes flutter with a short huff. "I wonder if you have any more... Levi, there's nothing to be insecure about," you say, your voice honeyed.

"'m not insecure," he lies.

"Can I keep kissing you then?"

No answer. He looks grumpy and vaguely disinterested as he raises his knee beside you. In the bend of it, long purplish stripes discolor his skin like skinny snakes.

You smile at the sour look on his face despite his willingness to do as you ask.

You stroke them, and kiss them. There's no intention behind it, really, besides to show affection to these special scars he didn't even know the meaning of just minutes ago. And for the first time you've found something Levi seems to be insecure about.

Outside his thighs, peeking out from under his dark briefs and disappearing, are a sea of pink, jutting marks. It seems like his thighs, hips, and his rear have the most, but you're not about to ask to see those. You've barely shared kisses so far as you've been dating.

Instead, you find yourself stroking the outside of his thighs, sliding up over the spandex until you find yourself almost on top again. At some point, you got it in your mind to rake each mark with your eyes, to be thorough. You'd like to kiss each and every one.

"Pretty," you insist.

One moment, you can look down at his red cheeks, a blush that has stretched all the way to the tops of his ears, and the next it's like a tornado sweeps you up and whirls the world around, putting you down on your back. It happens before you can even blink.

He's on top of you now, staring down at you with a curious sort of distrust.

“Sorry... Did I surprise you?”

You gape. “You’re fast.”

He makes a face. “That’s not surprising.”

You giggle, and lean up to give him a short kiss. Then his shoulder. Butterflies flare up in his stomach like before.

Like the kisses you gave the backs of his knees, and his flanks, inches from his pecs, Levi finds himself somewhere tied between being flustered and totally at a loss at whether to tell you to stop.

He's excruciatingly shy, really. Not ready for so much. The kisses all by themselves make him uncomfortable in a way he wants to erase and explore.

With a sigh, he climbs off of you, where you lean up and say, "I can stop... I just really think... you know."

He doesn't know how to tell you to keep going doing this stupid thing without making a fool of himself, and works his jaw there for a moment. His palm slithers across your nape and brings your lips back to his shoulder.

"There are probably more," he mumbles. "But I don't get why you're obsessed. I probably..."

You lean up more, forcing him to sit up straighter. Your lips touch his own nape. "'cause, I-I like you?"

He bites the inside of his cheek. "Yeah, well. I probably brought them up from where I used to live, where there wasn't... weight gain," he struggles. His cheeks are pink.

He can practically feel your brow raise as your hands rise up his back. "Are you trying to change my mind?"

"I... I'm not trying to tell you to stop."

"Lemme just."

You maneuver around him a little more, trying to press him down on his stomach. Showing anyone his back where he can't see makes him hesitate before he relents, feverish to hear more of your praise despite himself. As far as he can tell, you're being completely genuine, which touches him. It's not like they're fucking pretty or anything.

Lo and behold, stretching across his shoulderblades like wings. His back is packed in muscle, so it's not surprising. You simply find yourself fascinated. Pretty.

He swiftly inhales as he feels you kissing his upper back, spread across. Your thumbs are tracing his hips again, too.

Holding his breath, he cranes his neck, and indeed spots them. They's more widespread than he thought. His body has changed since the Underground—more than he thought.

"You okay?"

His cheek hits the pillow again as he squirms slightly, unbearably shy. He's ashamed he's hard from this. "Just don't go too far."

"I won't," you promise.

For a while longer, he basks in the affection and attention.

You fail to resist raking his curves with your eyes, at least a little. How they fill out again down his thighs gives him a feminine beauty in a way. He's lithe and small, but stocky. Skin like imperfect marble; the stretch marks are like ornaments, really, quirks to his character that make you fond. And plus, he has a nice butt.

"I can feel you staring; you're not subtle," he grumbles. "Pervert."

"Okay, okay," you laugh. "I'm done."

You drop down beside him again, where he promptly puts your shoulders down to keep you there. The slightest quirk of satisfaction is on his brow as he follows you in laying down, draping his arm across your waist, laying his head down on your chest. He leaves space between you from the waist down, but he seems perfectly content besides.

You kiss his hair. He blushes neverending.

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#aot headcanons #levi ackerman x reader #captain levi x you #levi x y/n #levi ackerman x you #aot levi #levi ackerman imagine #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman fluff #aot scenarios #aot fluff

[cuubism]

Headcanon from my "fic graveyard" doc.

What if Hob can not only refuse death, but also has a kind of death-averse zone around him?

Things heal more quickly in Hob’s presence than he has ever had any reason to account for. He thinks, maybe it’s some effect of whatever has kept him alive over the centuries. People still die around him, of old age, of violence; he’s killed no few himself in war. But wounds heal faster around people who room with him, cut flowers linger past the point they should fade, fruit stays fresh longer, things like that. He wonders for the thousandth time if Eleanor hadn’t encouraged him to go to London to handle court affairs right before she went into labor if she’d have survived the birth.

THAT LAST LINE FUCK 😭

I love this, I'm slotting it into my Hob-becomes-a-patron-saint-of-living thoughts. It happens slowly, over time as he gets older he's no longer just spared Death's gift, but starts to become his own creature that's not quite human, has his own sort of power tied to his incredibly strong will to live... it's more precious to me, actually, than thinking of Hob becoming "Hope." Hob as the personification of Life is dear and interesting to me, especially if he is close friends with Death. There was that quote that went around tumblr absolute ages ago, I don't know its origin. "Life and Death have a long love affair. Life gives gifts to Death, and Death keeps them forever." (I think that comic might have become a meme tho XD). Anyway that's Hob and Death, except, of course, Death once gave Life a gift in return of something that was really supposed to be hers... aka, Dream.

#ask #karalynlovescake #dreamling headcanons for emotional wellbeing #i should get around to writing the patron saint companion fic

[dc-and-arfrona]

Happy Birthday

Jason Todd x GN! Reader

Type: Angst

It was another lonely night in Gotham City. Jason Todd, the Red Hood, perched on a rooftop overlooking the bustling streets below. As he surveyed the city's chaos, a bittersweet reminder fluttered through his mind. Today was your birthday.

Once upon a time, you and Jason were an unstoppable duo, partners in crime and in life. You understood each other like no one else, sharing secrets, laughter, and stolen kisses amidst the madness of their vigilante lives. But as fate would have it, circumstances forced them apart.

Now, years later, the silence between them seemed impenetrable. Jason had made peace with the fact that you had moved on, creating a new life away from the dangerous world they once inhabited together. He had tried to do the same, burying himself in his mission to protect Gotham, but deep down, he couldn't forget you.

Every year on your birthday, a pang of longing tugged at Jason's heart. He couldn't help but think of the memories you had shared, the laughter and joy that had been his solace amidst the darkness. He wondered if you ever thought of him, if you remembered the countless nights spent talking about dreams and fears, or the stolen moments of tenderness they had shared.

Jason reached into his pocket and pulled out a worn photograph. It was a snapshot of the two of you, arms draped around each other, grinning like fools on a carefree night. It had been taken years ago, but it still held the essence of your bond. Gently tracing your face with his thumb, he whispered to the night air, "I'm glad we don't talk anymore, but I still think about you on your birthday."

As the city's lights shimmered in the distance, memories flooded Jason's mind. He recalled the time you had saved him from his darkest moments, how your unwavering belief in him had given him strength. There were the late-night conversations that stretched into dawn, where you revealed your deepest fears and insecurities, trusting him with your vulnerabilities. He remembered how your laughter could brighten even the gloomiest nights, and how your touch could heal wounds deeper than any scar.

But time had taken its toll, and the path they had chosen had become a dividing line between them. Jason had made choices that led to your separation, trying to protect you from the dangers that had consumed him. The sacrifice had been painful, yet necessary.

Jason placed the photograph back in his pocket, his grip tightening around it as he made a silent promise to himself. On each passing year, he would carry your memory, holding onto the moments you shared, cherishing them like precious treasures. Despite the distance, the silence, and the choices made, his heart still held a space for you.

As the night wore on, Jason's vigilante duties called him away. He leaped into the darkness, leaving behind the rooftop and the echoes of his unspoken thoughts. In the depths of Gotham's shadows, he would continue to fight, knowing that the choices he had made were for the greater good.

But deep in his heart, on your birthday and every day that followed, Jason would silently wish you well, hoping that wherever life had taken you, you were happy and safe. And perhaps, in some small corner of his soul, he held onto the flickering hope that one day, their paths might cross again.

Because even though they didn't talk anymore, the memories remained etched in Jason's heart. They were imprinted on his very being, reminding him of a love that had once been so vibrant and alive. And in the quiet moments when the city slumbered, he would allow himself to indulge in what-ifs and alternate realities.

On your birthday, Jason would find himself retracing the steps of their past. He would visit the places where you had shared stolen kisses, the parks where you had whispered promises of forever. Each location held a piece of their story, a testament to the love they had once shared.

He would sit on a bench in a deserted park, gazing up at the night sky, imagining your laughter cascading through the air like music. The stars would twinkle, reminiscent of the sparkle in your eyes, and for a fleeting moment, it would feel as if you were right there beside him.

Jason would find himself compelled to reach out, to break the silence that had plagued their lives for far too long. But the fear of disrupting your newfound happiness would always hold him back. He respected your choices, and even if it meant sacrificing his own desires, he would let you go.

Yet, on your birthday, he would allow himself to pen a letter. It would be filled with all the unsaid words, pouring out the emotions he had carefully guarded within himself. He would confess how much he missed you, how your absence haunted him even when he fought to push it away.

In the darkness of the night, he would release the letter into the wind, watching it disappear into the abyss. It was a symbolic gesture, a way of letting go while still holding on. He hoped that somehow, the universe would carry his words to you, even if they would never cross your lips.

Days would pass, and life would continue its relentless march forward. Jason would return to his duties as the Red Hood, throwing himself into the chaos of Gotham's underworld. But a small part of him would always belong to you, a silent guardian watching over your happiness from afar.

Because even though they didn't talk anymore, and even though their paths had diverged, the connection they shared couldn't be erased. It lived in the unspoken moments, in the quiet longing that whispered through their souls.

And on each passing year, as your birthday arrived, Jason would find solace in the fact that somewhere out there, you were celebrating life, creating new memories, and thriving in a world beyond his reach. He would silently toast to your happiness, his heart aching yet filled with gratitude for having been a part of your story.

For deep down, he knew that even if they would never cross paths again, the love they had once shared had shaped him into the person he had become. And in that bittersweet realization, he would find peace, knowing that their time together, though fleeting, had left an indelible mark on both their lives.

So, as the years went by, Jason Todd and the reader would live their separate lives, bound by the silent memories that would forever hold them together. And on your birthday, amidst the silence, Jason would whisper into the night, "Happy birthday, my love. I hope you're living the life you always deserved."

Masterlist

#jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #red hood imagine #red hood x reader #red hood x you #dc imagines #dc imagine #jason todd #red hood

[andieanderson-writes]

you know… I actually headcanon that gojo goes to therapy 🤗 he’s like me fr

if anything comes to mind after this, maybe you can write something but if there’s none, it’s alright, just wanna share what i think about him

Oooh, this one's unique! I hope you like it <3 written from gojo's pov (my personal interpretation and headcanon).

Mind Doctors

It had been years after his final battle with Sukuna. Years since that foul defeat, he had to undergo in order for Maki and Yuta's plan to take flight. Years since he left the afterlife only to wake up with him split in two and a desperate Shoko trying to put him back together again. It was a gruesome fight within himself as he tried to muster up whatever strength he had left to summon Reversed Cursed Technique and help speed up the healing process. His mind didn't help either what with all the thoughts about his beloved departed friends, his only best friend, that little girl he cared for one summer... and the fact that an apocalyptic battle still raged on in his absence.

But Gojo was years past that. He had even gotten his revenge on Kenjaku and Sukuna— boy, did he love the dumbstruck looks on their dead faces. He smiled even now as he recollected those fond memories, walking down the smooth stone pavement on his way to a very important appointment.

The realisation had creeped up on him a long time ago, but his pride was just too great to admit his need for it. After all, Gojo Satoru was still the strongest, and the strongest could handle cold sweat panic attacks and nightmares, right? The strongest could handle occasional distorted vision when he used his six eyes too much, right? The strongest could handle repeatedly being ripped apart and almost, almost physically feeling the pain in reality even though it was just a very horrifying dream, right?

Wrong.

Wounds were meant to be healed. But how could one heal a wound you simply can not see?

Well, you go to therapy, of course!

Yuji called them "Mind doctors." Gojo was starting to think he was right.

As he sat in his padded chair, reclined and comfortable, he found his lips moving of their own accord, spilling every last bit of trauma he had saved in the troves of his heart all these years. It had taken him almost half a month to get this vulnerable, with the woman looking at him with compassionate eyes but the embarrassment and ego eventually wore off and had him taking pride in the way he could be brave about his past.

After all, he had come through all of that, and he was still there today, wasn't he? He stole that line from his therapist, actually.

At the end of his session, fumbling for words and a tad bit surprise at how well the woman took the crazy information normal humans would not be able to comprehend, he couldn’t repress the urge to ask the kind woman, "Is your Cursed Technique 'Mind Healing?"

She smiled at first and replied, "We keep our personal lives and traits out of our professional business. But don't worry," a grin flashed in his direction. "I'd say you're in good hands."

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #jjk #gojo satoru #fanfic #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk gojo #gojo fluff #jjk satoru #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru fluff #jujutsu kaisen satoru #jujutsu gojo #gojo x reader #jjk headcanons #gojo headcanons #gojo satoru headcanons #we all need therapy after jjk and gege's paying

[just-a-dinosaur-i-guess]

haiiiiii going to give you some ✨options✨

nathaniel & yosano + "go ahead, throw your rocks at me from your little glass house"

chuuya & tachihara + "nothing is holding you back now"

sigma & karl + "i think we should run while we still can"

TAKES ALL OF THEM

nathaniel & yosano

"Go ahead," Nathaniel snarled, the Scarlet Letter at Yosano's throat, "Throw your rocks at me from your little glass house." Yosano chuckled, suddenly kicking Nathaniel back, letting the holy words pierce her throat (as if these would ever harm an angel, even one of death) before using Thou Shalt Not Die. "Is that really what you think this is?" "Regardless, you should have gone to hell a long time ago." Nathaniel watched the wound heal before, lunging at her, but she grabbed his arm, twisting it. "As much as I agree, I'm not going down there any time soon," She wiped blood off her cheek, "But you're welcome to try to send me there."

chuuya & tachihara

With the defeat of Fukuchi, a lot had changed. Tachihara was unable to hide who he was (or, had been?) from the Black Lizard, several people now had fangs, and.. Tachihara was still wandering a line between the government and the Port Mafia. He needed his surgeries, and Ango had set him up to still receive them, but now they knew where he went every three months. He always expected them to turn away, to ignore him, to say something about it- But they didn't. It was puzzling, and a little uncomfortable, and he had no idea how to approach the subject, so perhaps that's why someone else had to bring it up. He was currently sitting on Chuuya's porch steps, looking at the exec as they crackled their knuckles. "Nothing is holding you back now, yknow." They started, after a minute. Tachihara blinked, "What do you mean?" "You don't have to lie anymore." Chuuya set their head on their hand, propping it up with their arm, continuing. "You can use your ability now during fights. Moreso then you used to." "Wait, how did you-" "Some of your 'trickshots' were absolutely fuckin' not natural." Tachihara stared for a moment, then chuckled- And soon both of them were laughing, all secrets revealed, nothing to hide.

sigma & karl

"I think," Sigma started nervously, glancing down at the raccoon, "We should run while we still can." Karl chittered in agreement. "I can't believe you set off the fire alarm- this is going to be all over the news.." Sigma groaned, scooping Karl up, starting to move, "And then Ranpo is going to have to bail me out again, and that's always mortifying.. you know them." Karl perked up at the mention. "...Right, they give you treats." Sigma wished someone would give him treats for this shit. He didn't know petsitting Karl would be so much work.

#nathaniel hawthorne #yosano akiko #chuuya nakahara #tachihara michizo #sigma #karl #sigma bsd #karl bsd #injury cw #THE TACHI AND CHUUYA ONE. KINDA GOT AWAY FROM ME #i had to cut it there or else it'd get. longer #i hope you enjoy all of these though!! they were fun as hell to write #pidge does prose #my writing #bsd fic #bungo stray dogs #bsd

[nostalgiacauseitstrendy]

Long, Long Time- F!Reader x Kabal

I've been really sad and this song destroys me every time I hear it (the last of us episode didn't help at all). Listen to "Long Long Time" by Linda Ronstandt for full immersion.

Y/n and Kabal were seeing each other before his burns. After the incident, Kabal joins the Black Dragon and pulls away from Y/n. All references to "he" is about Kabal.

--------

When Y/n needed to get anything off her chest, she would go to a local karaoke bar to sing away her feelings. That's where they met a few years ago, when he was just a rookie cop. He used the cheesy, "come here often?" line that made her giggle. They'd spend hours laughing the night away. He would be entranced by her voice. A sudden chill shook her out of her daydreaming.

Sometimes she wished she would run into him. What would she say? Would it matter? Would he show up with someone else? Its been almost a year since she had last spoken to him.

Y/n sauntered up to the stage, grabbing the microphone as if it was routine. Her voice carried across the old, brick bar.

Love will abide,

Take things in stride

Y/n's friends always showed up to support her performances. They were always the ones telling Y/n to get back out there, to start anew. They always spouted the typical euphemisms for getting over him- "there's plenty of fish in the sea," and all that nonsense. All hopes that she'd ever find love again have long since been buried.

Sounds like good advice

But there's no one at my side

Y/n just ignored their words, but stated she appreciated the advice. None of it helped, however. She couldn't imagine herself with anyone else, in reality, didn't have the will or energy to try. No one had ever made her feel the same way he had- and no one would ever again.

And time washes clean

Love's wounds unseen

They always say the passage of time heals all wounds- Y/n found that to be nothing but empty words. They held no meaning- the day he disappeared hurts now as much as it had then. She had tried texting, calling, even showing up outside the Black Dragon. Not a sight, not a sound.

That's what someone told me

But I don't know what it means

No advice, no time, nothing was healing this pain in her heart. A piece of her was missing. Her friends eventually gave up trying to reconcile with her pain and supported her the best they could. Coming to this bar made her feel like a masochist in a way, but it was the only piece of him she had left.

'Cause I've done everything I know

To try and make you mine

She had tried everything. He was hers for a long time. She was his forever, and she hated that now. When Kabal received his injuries, he began pulling away. He thought he was a burden and that Y/n deserved better.

She always reassured him that the wounds didn't mean anything to her. She asserted that he was the only one for her, no matter what happened to him. These words fell on deaf ears, as Kabal was too absorbed in his own grief.

And I think I'm gonna love you

For a long, long time

Before the burns, she first told him she loved him on a date. Walking through town on a clear summer night after a lovely dinner, Y/n turned to Kabal.

The moon shone on her face, her eyes alight with the flurry of the night, she told him she loved him. He froze before smiling ear-to-ear and telling her that he loved her too.

Caught in my fears

Blinking back the tears

She saw him change after the burns. He was colder, more callous. The night he rejoined the Black Dragons is where she pinpoints the beginning of the end. She expressed her concerns to him one night, leading to a major argument. He wanted to re-join the Black Dragons to regain control in his life. She wanted him safe. The argument ended in screams and tears, no resolution.

I can't say you hurt me

When you never let me near

Then one day, he was gone without a trace. She normally would see him after work at her apartment. He was a bit cold the night before, but nothing out of the ordinary.

And I never drew

One response from you

Despite all the texts, calls, attempting to hunt him down, she couldn't find him.

She sent him a text saying, "Really, after everything we've been through, you are just going to pick up and disappear?"

The message was delivered, she never knew if he read it. Not a single response.

All the while you fell

All. over girls you never knew

Y/n knew there was girls at the Black Dragon, all the time. She would overhear Kabal's buddies talking about them, how attractive they were, Kabal agreeing with smiles. She began to wonder if he left her for one of them. Maybe that's why he had withdrawn from her the past few months?

'Cause I've done everything I know

To try and make you mine

At first, she blamed herself. Maybe she wasn't good enough. Maybe she drove him off. Was she not supportive? Did she make him feel like he wasn't good enough?

There was nothing she wouldn't have done to make him stay.

And I think I'm gonna love you

For a long, long time

Not a day goes by when she doesn't think about him. She had to put away many trinkets and collectibles in her apartment- even a certain dvd or cd made her think of him. Gifts he's given her, clothes she's snagged- had to be put out of sight. Out of moments of weakness, she'd dig out some clothes he'd left and hold them tightly. His scent always brought tears to her eyes.

Wait for the day

You'll go away

The song, reaching its climax, made the memories more salient for Y/n, something she valued, but also something she hated. She was reliving the day she came home to an empty apartment.

Knowing that you warned me

Of the price I'd have to pay

She knew the dangers of the Black Dragon, he warned her she'd be endangered due to her relation to him. He would emphasize that his occupation risked her life. She didn't care. She'd risk it all for him. She would have paid any price to keep him near.

And life's full of flaws

Who knows the cause?

None of the adversities they faced seemed worthy of his disappearance in her eyes. Sure, life was unfair, but him leaving seemed the most unfair in her eyes. Why not face it together? Why insist on facing it alone?

Living in the memory

Of a love that never was

That really was it, wasn't it? She was stuck in a sick cycle of her memories. She just kept reliving the past to feel anything at all. Just maybe if she relived it enough it would keep the memory of him alive. Just maybe he would show up again. This caused her the grip the microphone hard, her knuckles becoming more visible.

'Cause I've done everything I know

To try and make you mine

At this point, Y/n felt weak. She really had done all she could. She fought as hard as she could. Her stomach felt uneasy, her knees felt like they would give out at any moment. She felt exactly the same way she had that damned day.

And I think I'm gonna love you

For a long, long time

She had melted into the song at this point. So much emotion, so much pain had driven her to numbness. In the end, that is all she knew- she still loved him. Always will.

'Cause I've done everything I know

To try and make you mine

Someone was in attendance, though Y/n never noticed. He was well-hidden in the back after all. His hoodie, dim facemask, and baggy attire hid his identity well. He had been following her for the past few months, though she was not privy to it.

Her performances usually riled something up in him, but nothing quite like this. He felt tears brimming in his eyes.

He thought he was protecting her by leaving. Surely his connection to the Black Dragon would get Y/n killed. If they caught her on a moment he wasn't there...he didn't want to imagine the carnage. He thought he was a burden to her. She could do better. Why didn't she move on? This would have made it so much easier for him.

Why couldn't he move on?

And I think I'm gonna love you

For a long, long time

Finished and between the cheers, Y/n sat down. She almost fell into her seat, dizzy from emotion. Maybe a few minutes went by before a server came to the table full of her friends and dropped off a beer with a note directly in front of her. The note read, come here often? She turned to look behind her.

--ill write a part 2 if asked.

#mk #kabal #mk kabal #kabal x reader #reader x kabal #reader insert #female y/n #female reader #y/n #mortal kombat x reader