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teyamsatan · 1 year

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The Archer | Chapter II: Out of the Woods

Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X

Summary: A fight with Neteyam makes you run to the forest with the rest of the Sully kids, right into the arms of the enemy. You come face to face with a man you never thought you'd ever get to see.

Pairings: Neteyam x Avatar!Reader

Word Count: 10,2k words

Warnings/notes: smut(18+, minors DNI!), angst, mentions of death, disease, blood, violence, cursing, SPOILERS for ATWOW

A/N: I am writing this at 2am, so my apologies for any grammar errors, I am exhausteddd!! I don't know if you can tell, but I am actually really struggling writing any of the scenes (particularly action scenes) from the movie, and describing what is happening on the screen is the bane of my life. Also, sometimes I can't understand what the dialogue is and I can't find the script or english subtitles and it makes me unnecessarily upset. Also my inspo for the dad is Oscar Isaac cause wow what a man. Can he be my daddy too? Hahahaha ok i'm so tired i'm gonna go to sleep enjoyyy x

Remember when I hit the brakes too soon? Twenty stitches in a hospital room

When you started crying, baby, I did too, but when the sun came up, I was looking at you

Remember when we couldn't take the heat? You walked out, you said "I'm setting you free"

But the monsters turned out to be just trees, when the sun came up you were looking at me

You watched Neteyam leave the comfort of your shared tent and you instantly knew he felt horrible about what he said. You knew he didn’t mean it, but in this moment, you didn’t care. He had to have meant it to a certain degree for it to come out so easily out of his mouth.

As you were preparing to leave, unable to spend the night in this place, in this tent, where everything hurt, where every corner had photos and trinkets and memories that you couldn’t bear look at in this moment, you heard a squeaky voice you loved break through the unbearable silence. You were a mess, you knew, paint splattered all over your face, neck and torso, seeping into the woven fabric of your top, but you wouldn’t deny her - you couldn’t.

“Come in, Tuk-tuk.”

She gently opened the flap and walked in sheepishly, carrying your mother’s guitar that you gifted to her almost a year ago.

“I’m sorry about Neteyam.” She looked so sad you almost started crying again, this pure soul who felt and cared for everything around her, listened to everyone and always made you feel important, always made you feel heard.

You knelt and opened your arms in her direction, and you saw her place the guitar carefully on the ground and run into your open arms.

“Oh, my dear girl, you have nothing to be sorry about. That is between me and him, it has nothing to do with you, alright, baby?”

“But it does have to do with me, because he is wrong. You have a family, you have always had a family. We’re your family. Sullys stick together.”

The tears started as if completely independent from the rest of your body, and you couldn’t stop the cry that made its way out of your throat without your consent. This little girl you loved so much managed to undo so much of her brother’s mistakes in just a few words, and you felt so grateful to have her in your life, so grateful to have someone to call a sister.

“Baby, I was going to go wash this whole day off, would you like to come with me? We can take Neyn, we can bring the guitar, you can sing to me the song I showed you?”

“Yay, adventure time!”

You chuckled at this 9 year old who reminded you a lot of Lo’ak at her age, always up for new experiences, as long as it avoided the boredom of the mundane. You knew you were going to get in trouble with Jake and Neytiri for taking their youngest away at night, but right now you just needed to be away from here, and you couldn’t find it in your heart to turn away this precious soul who just made you less miserable in just a few minutes.

You sneaked out of your tent, feeling stupid for feeling like you had to sneak out in the first place, like you were an unruly teenager, not a full-grown adult who just got her heart broken by her mate. He should be sneaking out. As a matter of fact, he should be sneaking in, begging on his knees for your forgiveness, like he used to when he was young. I guess that’s just another thing that has changed in the year you have become mated. You signalled for Tuk to get on your ikran, who was dozed off next to the rest of your family’s, and you cursed yourself for waking her up after such a traumatic day.

“I’m sorry, sweet girl.” You said with a kiss on her snout, and she cooed affectionately at you. You made the tsaheylu and you couldn’t feel any fear, anxiety or frustration in her thoughts, which put your mind at ease a little, and, with a hand on the neural whip and the other wrapped tightly around Tuk’s chest, you took flight.

It was a short trip to the cave you and Neteyam come to all the time, the one that had a small subterranean lake that you would sometimes wash in. The water was absolutely freezing, never seeing the light of day, but it was peaceful and clean, and that sounded as good to you as heaven right now. You dove in without a second thought, the freezing water inundating all your senses, healing all the wounds that were scratching painfully at your heart.

Why would he say that?

I mean, you did attack him about saving his baby brother, who would have probably died if it wasn’t for him.

He should’t have to keep saving Lo’ak at his own expense.

He shouldn’t have to, but he does. Lo’ak wants to prove himself, and Neteyam is a protector by nature. It’s like asking water to not be wet.

I want to kill Lo’ak.

No, you don’t. Because you understand Lo’ak. You’re sad for Lo’ak, for always living in his brother’s shadow, for always getting the cold shoulder from his dad, who you also know is just being harsh because he has to be, because no one else can be.

What if he dies? What do I do then?

Your mind didn’t have a quippy answer to that - or any answer at all. You were left alone, with no answers and enough terror to fill this whole floating cave and overflow around it. You emerged from the water and got on your back, just floating aimlessly, trying to get your heart to stop pounding in your chest and the tears stop pricking at your eyes. What if he dies?

“Can I swim with you?”

Tuk’s question pulled you out of your frightened contemplation, and you realised you have probably been unnervingly quiet for too long.

“It’s really cold, Tuk-tuk, I don’t want you to get sick. How about I take you to a warmer lake tomorrow and we can swim together, would you like that?”

“YES!”

“Can I come, too?”

The deep voice stopped you in your tracks, and you almost drowned when your feet stopped paddling underwater to keep you upright.

“NETEYAM!” Regardless how upset Tuk was at her older brother’s words, Neteyam would always be her favourite. Her favourite sibling, her favourite family member. Some people in the village loved asking Jake and Neytiri whether Tuk was more a mother’s or a father’s girl, but in reality, Tuk was her brother’s girl.

“Hi, Tuk. What are you doing here? You want to give mother and father a heart attack?” The little girl’s face was nestled in Neteyam’s neck, hidden from sight behind his long braids that moved as she chuckled.

“I wanted to keep my sister company.”

“You need to go to sleep, parultsyìp. How about I take you back home and then I can keep her company?”

“Will you apologise?”

Neteyam shifted uncomfortably on his feet, and looked to the ground - he was embarrassed.

“Yes, I will apologise. Come, let’s go.” He let her down and patted her back affectionately to get her to go ahead before him.

“Please don’t leave? I’ll come as soon as I make sure she’s with my parents.” He looked at you pleadingly, begging you silently. A year ago you would have ran for the hills, took off to not be found by anyone, but just like so many other things, this has also changed. You weren’t a child anymore, careless and impulsive, controlled by your never-ending grief and anger; you had to be better. You were someone’s daughter now, someone’s mate, someone’s sister. You were a future Tsa’hik, you were one of the best warriors in the clan. People depended on you. Despite what Neteyam so cruelly told you, you did have a family. And he was part of it. So you would wait.

You nodded without looking at him, and you heard him sigh in relief. He placed something on the ground before he turned on his heels with Tuk in his arms, and you noticed with a sudden burst of pain felt all within you that it was a flower bouquet. That’s why he took so long…

You washed yourself properly now that you were alone, and when you got out, you noticed the guitar that Tuk forgot to pick up with her still resting on a wall of the cave. You sat next to it, back resting on the same wall, and picked it up, your mind immediately wandering to your mum. With everything going on around you, you have not been able to visit the Tree of Souls after your consciousness transfer. It’s been a year since you saw your mum as you lay dying and you regretted every day not going back to visit, to see if you could see her again, see if Eywa would be able to bring her back to you, at least in this way. The guitar was tiny in your hands now, but you could still play the chord if you were really careful. You started strumming a song, and let yourself sing to let out the hurt and fright.

Looking at it now, it all seemed so simple, we were lying on my couch, I remember

You took a Polaroid of us, and then discovered the rest of the world was black and white, but we were in screaming colour

Your bracelet hanging from my hand, the night we couldn’t quite forget, when we decided

To move the furniture so we could dance, baby, like we stood a chance, two paper airplanes flying

And I remember thinking, are we out of the woods yet? Are we in the clear yet?

Are we out of the woods yet? Are we in the clear yet?

“Well… we are definitely out of the woods.”

You saw Neteyam’s shadowy figure slowly walking towards you, deeper in the cave, the silhouette of his body and the braids swinging from of side to the other to only thing you can make out in the darkness. You glared in his direction and he winced, already regretting his words.

He sat down in front of you, with his legs crossed so your knees were touching. He reached a hand to your knee and caressed it gently.

“Thank you for waiting.”

You refused to look at him, instead opting for the dimly illuminated lake to your left, that twinkled every time a drop of water would fall from the ceiling. You traced the stalactites and their curious shapes, fascinated with they clung to the wall, when you felt Neteyam’s hand on your cheek, softly turning your face to face him.

“Atan, please, look at me. I can’t stand it when you refuse to look at me.”

Tears fell from your eyes like water from the roof of the cave, and eventually you looked at him, and saw his pained expression, and you knew how bad he felt. You could feel it in your soul, his misery, but it did very little to comfort you. It was easy to feel bad after the fact.

“Atan… I am so sorry. I could never express into words how sorry I am, I will pay my whole life for what I said, what I spat at you in a moment of stupid anger. I just want you to know that it isn’t true. What I said, it isn’t true. You’ve always had a family. You’ve always had us, and Norm and Max. You’ve always had me. I have been your family my whole life, and I am so, so sorry. There’s no excuse for what I said.”

“I forgive you.” You placed your hand on his chest when you noticed him trying to get close to you. ‘I’m not finished.”

“I forgive you. But I need some time.”

“What do you mean you need some time?”

“I mean, I have to figure out how I will do this. How I could possibly do this. How I can watch the man I promised to spend the rest of my life with kill himself before the rest of my life can ever come, and learn to ever be ok with it.

You were right. I never had a family. I had a mum who didn’t want to live past my tenth birthday, friends I cared for, but that lived in a completely different world to mine, people that tried to be there for me but I pushed them away, a dead dad and you. A guy I loved my whole life who left me without saying goodbye. I’ve never had a family.

But I have one now. And you’re right. You’re right, it isn’t a choice. If I had to choose between my life any of yours, I would give mine up in an instant. And there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to make sure you are safe. So I do get it. But that doesn’t mean that I can watch you do it.

I know how hard this is on you… how much this enormous unspoken pressure weighs on you. Being Olo’eyktan, being the oldest son, the big brother, the protector. I know you won’t say it, and you won’t complain, but I know. You have nightmares, and you cry in your sleep. You cry for your dad, and for Lo’ak… for Tuk… for me. I hoped that you would talk to me about it, and I’ll be here to listen when you feel ready. I’m sorry you feel like you have to go through this alone.

But I don’t know if I can’t stand and watch you kill yourself. Because it will kill me too. So until I figure it out, I need some time.”

Neteyam was shedding silent tears that refused to stay hidden, and he felt his heart break at all your words, each one harder to hear than the last. Time? He didn’t have time. Time was for a different period of your lives, before the humans came, when you were young and wild and free to run through the forest whenever you pleased. Time was for when you made him sit through an entire season of a show he couldn’t understand half the words to, but he was just happy to sit in silence next to you, hearing your laughter bless his ears, his mind, his soul. Time was for when he took his siblings through the forest to forage for rocks and beads because Kiri wanted to make them all something special to wear for his second birth. There was no more time, no more future, no more past. Just the now, waiting to see what the humans have planned next, what hell they’ll rain on this planet this time, and who will suffer as a consequence.

“Atan…”

“I don’t want to put you out, so I will go sleep with the rest of the Avatars for a while. I have work to do in the lab anyway, so it’ll probably work better this way anyway.”

Neteyam saw you get up from where you sat, deep coldness settling where your knees weren’t touching him anymore and dispersing all throughout his body. He saw your back turn and you made your way out of the cave, stopping to pick up the flowers that he spent an hour collecting for you. You brought them closer to your face and smelled them, smiling sadly.

“Thank you for the flowers. It’s good to know at least some things haven’t changed. I love you, Neteyam. I’m sorry.”

Neteyam couldn’t find it in him to get up from the floor, and he felt the hopelessness envelop him like a blanket that he was suffocating under. What was he supposed to do? What did this mean? Is this a human thing? Neteyam remembers when you were much younger and you had to explain to him the concept of a “break”, after making him sit through a whole Friends marathon. Is this what this was? You were asking him for a break? Were you breaking up with him? Today just feels like a never-ending nightmare, and he was hoping that you would wake him up, like you always did, comforting him and singing him back to sleep. He didn’t have it in him to go back to the camp, so he lay on the cold ground of the cave, and let himself fall into a restless slumber - even if real nightmares did invade his subconsciousness, how much worse could they get?

You spent the next few days mostly in the lab, trying to take care of everyone who was affected in the fateful mission that left more than physical scars behind. It was a full-time job, as there were a lot of victims that required surgical intervention, which you were more than happy to do yourself. You’d like to think that it was because it would bring you peace - helping others - but you knew deep down you were also happy to be able to avoid Neteyam. You felt bad for what you said, bad for distancing yourself from someone you loved more than life itself, but you were still hurt and angry, still terrified and paralysed at the thought of losing him. You don’t know what this distance would achieve, but you were hoping for some clarity and perspective.

Norm and Max came in the little lab you turned into an intervention room as you were finishing checking in on the people you operated on a couple days ok, making sure their vitals were normal.

“OK - spill. What happened?” You heard Norm speak over the machines beeping in the room.

“What do you mean?” You removed your gloves and quietly made your way out of the lab.

“You’re never here this much anymore. I’m sure there are better things to be doing, and you know very well me and Max, or hell, Claire and Tim can take care of people post-operatively. We all know how to stitch wounds, Ace.”

“Not as well as me.”

“True, but definitely better than we would be at scouting and hunting, which is what you should be doing. So something happened. Had a fight with Neteyam?”

“Of sorts.”

You reached the dry labs and sat on one of the chairs that you barely fit in anymore; your elbow resting on your thighs, you put your head in your hands and sighed deeply.

“You’re gonna remove all the oxygen in the room if you sigh that hard.”

“We fought about the mission a few days ago. Lo’ak disobeyed Jake and got himself in danger - as usual -, and Neteyam got hit by the explosion as a result. I yelled at him about it, he yelled at me, it got ugly. I told him I need space. So I’m taking space.”

“So that’s why you’re sleeping in our tent. I knew it wasn’t just so you could check on people easier. Liar.”

“It’s not a complete lie, but yeah.”

“So what were you yelling to each other about?”

“So I said -“

Loud commotion happened around you as the door to the outside opened and in came Lo’ak, Kiri and Spider.

“Yeah, haha, real hysterical, you guys. You know what really sucks, though? That you can breathe the air here for hours, and I can only breath your air for like ten seconds.”

“Yeah, monkey boy, that really sucks. For you.”

Spider and Kiri have always been close, but recently, you felt a shift in their dynamic. It was a lot more flirtatious than friendly, and you couldn’t help wonder if there is something going on beneath the surface. Their interactions reminded you a lot of you and Neteyam’s before he left, just intimate enough they didn’t feel platonic anymore. Having been in Spider’s shoes, if there was, you felt bad for him. It was a slow poison, loving someone you know you could never have - whose body is literally incompatible to your own. You have always felt bad that you got an Avatar and Spider didn’t. In reality, you felt like he deserved it more. He has always been so connected to the Na’vi, so inseparable from the Sullys, so desperate for a family and a sense of belonging. Nobody knew this, but you were working hard to try to see if it was possible to build him one too. It would take time, but with the new technology and supplies the humans brought with them, maybe it wasn’t a pipe dream anymore.

Kiri finally acknowledged your presence.

“Hey, everyone!”

“Hey, kids!” Max chipped in enthusiastically. He loved when the Sullys came to visit.

“Hey, what’s up, Max?”

You didn’t look at Lo’ak, although he came really close to you and sat on a chair in front of yours. He moved on the chair until he was face to face with you, and put both of his hands on either side of you on the arm rests to force you to face him.

“Angel, are you going to be upset with me forever?”

You scowled at him and he smiled, and you melted a little. You could never stay mad at Lo’ak.

“You are a public menace, do you understand this?” it was his turn to scowl now, and he turned his gaze away from you - he seemed upset. You took his face in both your hands and brought his gaze back to yours.

“Lo’ak, I need you to be more careful. Please. I can’t lose you. And I can’t lose Neteyam, who will die one day trying to protect you. I know it’s hard, I know there’s so much you want to do and so much you want to prove, but please. Try?” You were looking at him as seriously and warmly as you could, pleading him to hear you, pleading that he would listen. He looked at you intently for a long time, and eventually, he nodded softly, looking remorseful. You moved his head downward a little so you had better access to his forehead and you gave him a quick peck, and noticed the slight purplish tint of his cheeks. You could never stay mad at Lo’ak.

“We’re going to go take a walk in the woods, come with us, please? I know you’re mad at Neteyam, but you can’t stay here forever. Even Norm and Max go out more than you.”

“Lo’ak, you shouldn’t be walking through the woods, you know this.”

“We’re not going to go far. We’re even taking Tuk, you know we would never put her in any danger.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “She blackmailed you to come, didn’t she?”

You saw Lo’ak rolls his eyes and huff in annoyance. “…yes.”

“Fine, I’m literally only coming to make sure Tuk is safe.”

“I’ll take it. Let’s go, gang!!”

You had to admit it felt really good to be out, to just run on the huge vines that connected the Hallelujah mountains to the ground and to each other. It felt like a blessing to be able to still enjoy these views, these moments with your siblings, even amidst the chaos that was erupting everywhere around you. You went like this for ages, and even though you knew you should have gone back, knew Lo’ak was again pushing his luck and the safety of everyone here, you couldn’t find it in you to stop him. You wanted this, you craved the warmth and safety the forest gave you, your forever home, your forever first love. Even the thought of returning back to camp in a couple hours made you sad. So you decided to focus on the now, and just enjoy the time you’ve got.

It was close to eclipse when you decided to make your way back. The kids were not allowed past curfew, and you didn’t want to risk it, especially with Tuk around. You were disappointed, but not surprised when Lo’ak stopped in his tracks and moved away from your path to inspect something he found on the ground.

“What is it?” Kiri said, in an exasperated tone, and you found yourself mirroring her sentiments.

You saw Lo’ak and Spider hovering over a patch on the ground and you decided to go investigate.

“We’re always supposed to be home by eclipse.” You heard Tuk join in.

Your mouth dropped at the sight in front of you. Shoe prints, made by boots that couldn’t be worn by any human. You recognised the pattern of the sole, as you have seen it before among clothes worn by the RDA soldiers. Military combat boots. Your heart was thumping in your chest at the only possible explanation. You started looking around you, and you felt the all-too-familiar dread building in your stomach, greeting you like an old friend. You barely registered the words that Spider and Lo’ak were exchanging.

“It’s way too big for a human.”

“Avatars?”

“Maybe, but for sure not ours.”

You saw Lo’ak move towards where the footprints were headed, and you tried to will your legs to move, to stop them, tried to will yourself to speak, but you couldn’t find the words, just dread. Just pure fear at every possible scenario that could take place, your mind computing all your worst nightmares and displaying them to you like on an outdoor cinema screen. Eventually, you started moving your legs and made your way in front of Lo’ak, positioning your body, now just as strong and tall as his, in front of him.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m tracking.”

“Are you out of your goddamn mind?” You were trying so hard to keep your voice down, but it was hard to do when you felt rage replacing the anxiety and spilling over all around you.

“Angel, we have to see who it is. Whoever it is will never find us, this is our territory. We have to bring back the intel, and what are we going to say when dad asks us what did we see? We need to find out more.”

“Lo’ak, we are not prepared for this. I don’t have my gun, or a radio, or my bow. I have a knife. I’m not putting Kiri and Tuk in danger. We can go back and we can track tomorrow and figure it out. We know they’re Avatars. What you don’t know is that they’re military.”

You saw his face drop. “Yeah, that’s right. Those boots? They were worn by the RDA soldiers that murdered so many of our people. They’re larger now, but the imprint on them is the same. They fucking brought Avatar soldiers here this time. This is fucking serious. We have to go.”

He thought about it for a while. You hoped that he would listen, you hoped that he would abide by what you talked about only a few hours ago.

“We will be careful. We will keep our distance. Let’s just see what they’re doing, at least.”

You growled at him loudly, but said nothing, and the shock overtook your body when you realised that you were following him. You tried to tell your body to move, to take Kiri and Tuk and leave, but you couldn’t. You couldn’t leave him or Spider, couldn’t bear the thought of them getting hurt and you not being there to help. Fuck, you owed Neteyam an apology.

You followed the tracks for a while, until you found them, and you kept your distance in the bushes and observed quietly. You could see six people in the clearing where 19 years ago, Jake and Neytiri defeated Quaritch, Spider’s dad. It was a forbidden place, cursed by dark, ominous energy that will plague this land for many years to come. The people were clearly Avatars, dressed in camo outfits, carrying so much weaponry it was making your knees shake. Every cell in your body was begging you to move, begging you to run, but you couldn’t, not until Lo’ak the rest of them were safely behind you. So you waited, trying to gather as much information as you could. The Avatars were searching the hub for any sign of recent life, and they took particular interest in exo-suit that you know belonged to Quaritch. In it, there were 2 arrows that you recognised as Neytiri’s, the emerald green feathers a dead giveaway. You never knew exactly how Spider’s dad died, and neither did he, so you wondered what feelings were plaguing him watching this unfold.

“We are never supposed to be here.” Kiri says, in a forceful tone. “Dad is going to ground you…”

“Shh, Kiri.” Lo’ak said exasperatedly, talking over his sister. “…for life.”

“Bro, we have got to check this out.”

You put your arm in front of the two boys. “Absolutely not. This is as far as we go. Call this in, now. I don’t have my radio.”

“No, bro, we’re gonna get in trouble.” You gave Spider a death stare, at his seemingly unending recklessness.

“Call it in, now. I’m not going to repeat myself again.”

“You sound like dad.”

Neteyam’s mood has been in a rapid decline over the last few days. He hasn’t seen you since that night, clear to him you were doing anything in your power to avoid him. Instead of thinking of the potential demise of your relationship and how that put his fucking heart through the meat grinder, he instead decided to bury himself in work and training, and try to spend some time with his parents that he very rarely seemed to talk to anymore outside of war-talk. His childhood was long gone, he realises - where he was just a kid, surrounded by so much love it was almost suffocating, full of laughter and joy, full of his dad’s Earth stories and his mum’s impressions, full of hope and light. His parents were now soldiers, generals, commanders, and he was just a subordinate, a corporal trying to help out in the best way he knew how. There were definitely perks to being an adult, and Neteyam could list just about all of them staring in between your legs, but there were times, such as now, that he wishes his parents would be his parents again, and he could just be a little kid again, spoiled, cherished and unencumbered by life’s tragedies.

The three of them were high in the Hallelujah mountains, returning from a full day of scouting and tracking, when Lo’ak’s voice through the radio interrupted his train of thought.

“Devil Dog, Devil Dog, this is Eagle Eye, over.”

“Eagle Eye, send your traffic.”

“I got eyes on some guys. They look like Avatars, but they’re in full camo and carrying ARs. There’s six of them, over.”

“What’s your post?”

“Um... We’re at the old shack.”

“Who’s we?”

“Me, Spider, Kiri…Quickscope…and Tuk.”

Neteyam’s knees felt like they were buckling underneath him. He was dizzy, and he felt Seze’s flight becoming unsteady as his mind was collapsing into a puddle of mush. Lo’ak… Spider… Kiri… Tuk… and you. His whole world. He could lose everything in a second. What the fuck were all of you doing in the forest? Why the fuck were all of you in the one place that was strictly forbidden? If it was Lo’ak and Spider he could maybe understand the stupidity, but you? The thought that you went along with this, with Tuk next to you boiled his blood - it was easier to be angry than to admit how immeasurably scared he actually was.

“Son, you listen to me very carefully. Pull back right now, do not make a sound, and get the hell out of there. Move. Copy?”

“Yes, sir, moving out.”

Neteyam’s entire body was lit up with pure adrenaline, coursing through his veins like ice water, sharpening his senses. He had to save you. All of you. He had to do something.

“Dad. I know a quick way.” He didn’t stop to see if his parents were following, but he heard his mother letting out a war cry behind him, so he assumed they were. He had to save you. He couldn’t lose you again.

“You’re gonna be in so much trouble.” You heard Kiri whispering to her brother.

“Kiri, stop. This is not the time.” You heard yourself say. You were gonna kill Lo’ak yourself, but right now, you just had to focus on getting out of here. Getting them out of here.

You saw Tuk run ahead and you wanted to tell her to slow down, but she spoke before you. “It’s almost eclipse, come on!!”

Out from the bushes came Avatars, so many of them they outnumbered you at least 2 to 1. A woman grabbed Tuk, holding her tightly and you hissed aggressively and pulled out your knife from its sheath, but you knew immediately it would do very little against so many military people carrying fucking machine guns that were pointed at your face, and worse, at the faces of the people you loved.

You heard the Avatars screaming at you, telling you all to put down your weapons, and you did, knowing there was no other choice. This wasn’t a battle you could win, this wasn’t even a battle you could start. You saw Lo’ak throw his bow on the ground, but Spider was unrelenting.

“Drop it. Drop it.” Lo’ak warned Spider in Na’vi, and you thanked your lucky star that he was being at least a tiny bit reasonable.

You were pulled forcefully by someone tugging you by your hair and pinning your arms together, holding them tightly, mirroring what was happening to your siblings around you. Tuk was crying, and your heart tugged at the sound, desperate to help her, a deep maternal instinct rising within you, and you felt rage and adrenaline fill your body.

A few more Avatars made their way to the group. One of them looked a little older, and by the way all the others shifted towards him subconsciously, you reckoned he was the leader. Two men were following him closely, and a profound, unsettling feeling overcame you. They looked…familiar. The first one was bald. The second one had wavy hair and looked slightly different than all the others. He looked…dignified. Like he didn’t quite belong. Like his clothes were unbecoming on his body. You somehow felt you knew this man, and when you looked next to him at the first guy and his tattoo, at the girl holding Kiri… when you looked closely at all of them, your body jerked violently and your mouth fell agape.

It couldn’t be… no…

Quaritch. Weinfleet. Pike.

…Your dad…

You didn’t understand what you were feeling at the moment, a mix that you have never experienced before, but at the forefront was gaping confusion and horror, shock and fear, and deep within you, maybe even a little bit of excitement. Could that actually be your dad? How is that possible? You buried his bones, you saw Weinfleet’s skeleton in the forest, you just saw Quaritch’s at the Shack. How could this be?

You saw Weinfleet stalk towards you and he took a hold of your hand and forcefully brought it up. “Colonel, check it out. Four fingers. We’ve got a half-breed.”

They thought you were Na’vi. Good. They realised you were born with Avatar blood, so you were most likely Jake’s. That made you valuable to them. Bad. The man behind you was pulling on your queue to lift your chin up so Quaritch can look at you properly. They were pulling on your arm and you felt pain all over, that was overshadowed by so many other emotions flooding your being. He inspected you shortly, and then moved on to Kiri and Lo’ak.

“Show me your fingers.” Lo’ak brought both his hands up and flipped him off. You would laugh if your body could still produce any ounce of serotonin.

You saw Quaritch smile crudely, eyeing Lo’ak up and down. “You’re his, aren’t you?” He continued smiling as Lo’ak hissed at him and took him by his hair, pulling him towards his eye level.

“Where is he?”

“Sorry, I don’t speak English…with assholes.”

“Where is your father?” His accent was thick, and he butchered the words and pronunciation, but there was no mistaking what he wanted. Jake. So this is what it was all about. Even after 19 years, the RDA was willing to spend hundreds of millions of dollars in order to eliminate the Olo’eyktan. It was a good investment, you thought, considering there was only so much the humans can do with Jake in the picture. You wondered what they were willing to do to get to him. Would they kill you off, one by one? Would your dad kill you to get to Jake?

Lo’ak said nothing, only hissing in pain when the man kept tugging at his queue aggressively. You heard wails all around you coming from Kiri and Tuk, but you were focused on only one thing. Figuring out an escape route. You knew Neytiri and Jake were on their way, since Lo’ak alerted them to your location. It was only a matter of time before they arrived. Eclipse was also only about 10 more minutes away, so you would have the cover of darkness soon, which was an advantage to you, but not to them. Lucky for you, they tied your hands in front of you, which means you could still use them. You probed the strength of the hand ties, and realised quickly you weren’t getting out of them without a knife. The man holding you was keeping you close to his body. You recoiled in disgust, but tried to shimmy your body into him to feel for any possible things you could use. He was wearing an army vest. You felt grenades and ammo poking you in the back. You moved subtly a bit more, making it seem like the position was just uncomfortable, and felt a military knife holder in your lower back. Bingo.

Quaritch took out a knife, and threatened Lo’ak with it, but soon moved along the line to Kiri. There was screaming coming from all the boys, but Spider’s voice broke through and Quaritch turned around to face him. It must be a weird sight to see, a human amongst the Na’vi, clearly young enough to have been raised here. You wondered if Spider connected the dots, if he figured out who the man standing if front of him was. You gave silent thanks to your mum and the scientists for the Avatar again.

“What’s your name, kid?”

“Spider… Socorro.”

Quaritch’s face changed, the sly smirk faltered and his expression was shocked, when it dawned on him the kid standing in front of him was his son.

Neteyam and his parents landed as eclipse set in, enveloping the nature in bioluminescent glow. It would be beautiful if he wasn’t on the edge of losing his goddamn mind. He grabbed his bow and patted Seze before he made his way towards the shack. His dad turned around and put a hand in front of him. Neteyam’s nose flared at the words he knew were coming.

“No, no. You stay with the ikran.”

“No.”

“Neteyam…” his mother was trying to defuse the situation the best way she knew how.

“I’m not going to say it again.”

“You are not leaving me behind. I am older than mum was when the Sky People attacked the first time. My mate is out there. My brothers and sisters. I am coming.”

Neteyam saw his dad looking at him intently, thinking about it for a while. Eventually, he relents and nods curtly.

“You stay behind, do you read me, boy? Your mother and I will go first, so they think it’s just two of us. You stand and attack from behind when the opportunity arises.”

Neteyam agreed, although still disappointed. It was better than nothing.

“Let’s go.”

After splitting from his parents, Neteyam made his way quietly through the forest to a high point by which he could spot you and his siblings. He gasped silently and he could feel his heart in his throat, making him pant in shallow breaths, that were leaving him dizzy and disoriented. So many Avatars, all in military clothing, all carrying heavy guns, all holding at knifepoint the people he loved most in the world. He saw you and his breath stopped altogether, wet hair and a concerned, but focused expression on your face. Your eyes were scanning all of them, scanning the forest, it’s almost like you could tell they were here, that he was here.

From far away, he heard his mum’s signature distress signal echoing through the forest. It was inconspicuous enough that to the undiscerning ears it probably sounded like a bird or a forest animal, but Neteyam saw all of your ears perk and your heads snapping in the direction it came from. Neteyam knew you were all trained for this, trained for emergency situations, and he felt a tug of gratitude for his father’s military ways that will most likely save their lives tonight.

The unmistakable sound of Neytiri’s call brought relief that washed over you like the raindrops falling from the sky. You knew then the kids will be alright. You looked at Lo’ak and you nodded almost imperceptibly in the direction of the guy at your 12 o’clock who was facing you both and had a smoke bomb clearly displayed on his vest. He looked at it and nodded back, and you knew he understood. You got this.

With a loud thud that declared the beginning of the rescue mission, the man holding both Kiri and Spider was knocked to the ground, a green arrow sticking out of his forehead. The man holding you pushed you aside to get his gun, and without a second thought, you removed the knife from his holder and slit his throat. The blood went all over you, on your face and torso, but you didn’t care.

“LO’AK!” You screamed, and the boy released the pin from the smoke bomb, enveloping the whole area in green smoke.

You stabbed another man in the neck at the same time Lo’ak and Tuk bit the people holding them, and ran for the woods. Good.

You managed to run as well, trying to dodge the barrage of gunshots being released all around you, but you felt someone harshly pulling you backwards by your queue. You cried out, as pain dispersed from your spine all around you body, but the pull stopped when the woman who grabbed you got an arrow on the side of her head that came out the other side. The shot came from a different angle, and you knew that was Neteyam. You ran as soon as you were released, making sure to take the machine gun she was carrying in her hand before you sprinted to a tree that could provide cover.

You took a few deep breaths to calm yourself, and poked your head out so you could shoot whoever was still alive. You realised from the angle you were at, you had a perfect shot…that would kill your dad. Was this man even your dad? Would sparing his life for your own twisted desperation for answers and closure cost your new family theirs? Your finger went to the trigger, putting slight pressure on it. Just a little more pressure, and it would be over. Tears welled in your eyes and with a silent curse and gasped breaths, you lowered your gun and got back undercover.

“Is that you, Mrs. Sully? I recognise your calling card.”

“Why don’t you come on out, Mrs. Sully? You and I, we’ve got some…unfinished business.”

You saw the kids running in the distance, and you felt so much safer, so much gratitude in knowing they were going to be okay. That’s all that mattered in this moment, that Tuk, and Kiri, and Lo’ak and Spider make it back home in one piece.

“DEMON! I will kill you as many times as I have to.” Neytiri’s voice sent shivers down your spine, so much hatred, so much intensity behind it.

“Guess you and the corporal got pretty busy, haven’t you? Got yourself a whole litter of half-breeds.”

You saw the reflection of the gun in the corner of your eye before you had a chance to process it, and you heard a man scream “Na’vi!”, followed by the unmistakable sound of shots being fired where you stood. You saw the bullets like in slow motion, and you knew then you were done for. You were just happy everyone else was going to make it. You were happy Neteyam was going to make it. You closed your eyes in anticipation of the pain, but the pain you expected never came. Instead, you were pushed to the ground and another type of pain, the pain the came with scratches all over your body and the wind getting knocked out you, brought you back to reality and you registered Neteyam’s unmistakable pheromones flooding your entire being.

“MOVE! GO, GO, GO!” He helped you to your feet and you both ran as fast as your feet could possibly carry you. You made it to a tree where you found Jake, and his presence calmed your thoughts and focused them - that was the effect he had on people, this great man and leader that you knew you would follow anywhere without question.

He touched you arm and spoke to both of you.

“Are you okay?” You and Neteyam nodded quickly.

“You ready? You ready?!” You saw him get out of cover and shoot, and you both sprinted for the hills, manoeuvring your way through thick shrubbery and tree roots, knowing that you wouldn’t have been able to do this even a few months ago, this level of athleticism and acrobatics that came naturally only to true Na’vi.

You heard a big explosion behind you and you saw part of a big web of roots get destroyed as a result, and Spider falling a few meters beneath it. You and Neteyam were preparing to run back, but Jake stopped you, placing a firm hand in front of your bodies. You saw Neytiri picking Kiri up forcefully and running with her towards your direction, as the girl was looking back to where Spider was.

Lo’ak and Tuk made it to your location as well, and you saw Jake kneel next to Tuk and hold her tightly in his arms as she cried, the weight of all you have all survived settling in all your bones. You hugged Neytiri like you never have before as you both cried, letting it all out, all the relief and fear and shock and happiness that you all made it out alive.

“THANK YOU, GREAT MOTHER! THANK YOU!”

Lo’ak’s voice echoed through the forest. “Where’s Spider?”

You looked at your sister, whose eyes looked like endless pools of sadness. “They took him! They took him!”

There were no words spoken as you all made your way back to camp. There were no words for what just happened. The adrenaline slowly depleted its resources in Neteyam’s body, leaving him in shambles, scrambling to figure out where to go from here. What were the next steps? Your back was flush against his chest, and the feeling of your skin on his, of your warmth emanating from your body, of your hand wrapped around his arm was the only thing that kept him from breaking down into a million pieces. You were here, his siblings were here. His thoughts flashed to Spider, and he knew he couldn’t think about it too much without tears welling in his eyes. He wasn’t close to Spider, definitely not nearly as close as the rest of his siblings, but he was family. Seze landed softly on the ground by the entrance to the camp. It was late, so most people were out for the night. You didn’t let go of him, not for one second, and he was so happy to see you again, so happy to feel you again, so sad it had to be under these circumstances. His family slowly made their way to the tent, but Neteyam felt you pull him back, urging him to let them go ahead without you.

He saw you properly for the first time since the whole ordeal. You had mud all over you, but that was nothing compared to the blood covering your entire face and chest. Tears were falling down your cheeks and neck, and his hands immediately found your face, just as his lips found yours. It was soft in the beginning, tentative, like a flower blooming in the morning. But as you came to terms with everything that transpired, everything you went through, everything you could have lost, it shifted, it became desperate and needy, full of breathy moans and wandering hands. He almost lost you.. again.

“Let’s go, please. I can’t be here.” Without any words, you got on Neyn and flew to your secret place. Neteyam’s hand was settled on your heart, that was thumping loudly, mirroring his own. You arrived quickly, the cave only a short distance away.

You ran, without looking at Neteyam and dove straight into the lake, not knowing for sure whether you wanted to reemerge, craving the numbness that came with drowning, craving it like the air that your was body was begging for. You felt the ripples in the water as Neteyam joined you, and when he touched you, your whole body lit ablaze, and the craving changed, as it always did when he was around. You missed him, so so much, and your fight and your need for space felt so silly now, so unnecessary in light of everything that you stood to lose at any moment. Any moment not spent in his presence, in his arms was wasted time, time you didn’t have.

You came up for air, panting from your need for him settled deep within you, so that he could fill the gaping hole that just opened in your soul. He looked at your intensely, and you knew he felt the same, so you kissed him, pouring all your desires into it, feeling him do same to you.

“I need you so badly, Atan. I have missed you so much.”

“Then take me, Neteyam. I’m yours.”

You exited the water and lead him to the mossy grass outside of the cave, where the nature was shining brightly and the wind warmed your skin. You pushed him onto the ground, and straddled him, looking deep in his eyes as you took off your beaded top and unhooked his cummerbund from around his abdomen. He rose from where he was laying on the ground and started planting kisses down your neck and collarbone, making his way down. You moaned at the feeling, and threw your head back, giving him access to you, begging silently for him to never stop. HIs mouth found one of your breasts that he kissed, softly in the beginning before his tongue flickered over your nipple. You started grinding on him, cursing yourself for not removing both your loincloths before. His mouth moved to your other breast, whilst his hands went on to undo your loincloth, that he removed from you and threw to the side. He stopped to undo his own, and you thanked the great mother for whatever unspoken connection you two have always shared.

“I need to feel you, my love. All of you.” His hand went to his queue that he brought forth, and you were so grateful at the sight, aching for the union that will always bind you together, for life.

You gasped loudly at the bond, overwhelmed with the outpouring of emotions emanating from Neteyam. So much pain, and fear and sadness, and so much love, and relief and gratitude all inundating your mind and soul, all making you breathless and dizzy. You both looked in each other’s eyes, both overcome with each other’s minds, both desperately in need of each other’s bodies.

One of his hands resumed his slow torture on your breast while the other wrapped around your throat, until the asphyxiation lead to euphoria you felt deep between your legs, slick dripping all over Neteyam’s hard-on that you were grinding against. His hands let go and the rush of oxygen to your brain made you moan in pleasure, and increase the speed at which you were getting yourself off on his cock. His mouth was all over you, leaving marks that you knew would be seen by everyone in the village tomorrow, but you couldn’t care less. The whole world could burn around you at this point and you wouldn’t care, because there was nothing else. Nothing outside of this, of him, of this feeling.

His hands went to your ass, pushing you deeper on him, urging you to go faster, helping you to your release.

“Fuck, I love it when you fuck yourself on my cock.”

You moaned loudly at his words, feeling your orgasm building up in your core. “That’s right. Come for me, baby girl.”

You threw your head back and rode out your orgasm with his hands on your ass still moving your now puffy and sensitive clit roughly on him.

“You are so beautiful. So fucking beautiful.”

Dazed, you felt yourself being picked up and placed on the ground, your back loving the feel of the wet grass touching your skin. His face was inches from yours, and he lowered it to kiss you, and it was so unlike everything else around you, so tender and soft, so needy and gentle.

“I love you so much. I am so happy you are here.” You cried out and brought him back onto you, kissing him like your life depended on it, which to be honest, you think it did. You felt his dick twitching against your inner thigh and moaned, desperate to feel him deep in your, desperate to be filled.

“Fuck, please.”

He smiles into the kiss, and reached down to line his cock to your folds, teasing your entrance mercilessly.

“Neteyam…” you mewled, not in the mood to be teased, not tonight.

He didn’t need to be told twice, as he pushed in slowly, letting you adjust to his girth, that always took you by surprise, that always stretched you out deliciously. He moaned as he filled you fully, and stopped to enjoy the way you squeezed him, the way you took him in like you wouldn’t ever let him go, your pussy the only prison he wouldn’t mind being held prisoner in forever.

“Fuck, Atan. You’re taking me so well, baby. Always so well, I could get lost in this pussy.”

You were so wet your slick was dripping all over him and down his balls, making it so easy for him to move in an out of you, at a slow, agonising pace. Your hands made their way to his back, hard and muscular, and you dug your nails in it roughly, scratching him as he increased his pace, fucking into you roughly and ruthlessly, making of you a whimpering mess. Your legs wrapped around him to grant him better access, to bring him in deeper, always deeper, until he was hitting a spot you could feel in your whole body, inundating your every cell, your every sense.

“I can feel you squeezing my dick, Atan. I want to hear you coming on my cock, I want to feel you taking my cum like a good girl.”

Your orgasm hit you like a lightning strike, overcharging your every nerve ending until you were so drained you could only see white, and you felt Neteyam’s load fill you to the brim, overflowing around you. Blissfully spent, his head fell on the crook of your neck, and you stood like that, listening to each other’s heartbeats and shallow breaths.

You laughed quietly thinking this was probably the most tame sex of your life, and how even when you were trying to be tempered and soft, you ended up like this, moaning and mewling like your life depended on it. This is what he did to you, what he’ll always be able to coax out of you.

“It’s good to hear you laugh again. So I take it you forgive me?” He rolled from on top of you, and pulled you on from the ground so you can be face to face, as he intently listened to every sound that came out of your mouth. Your queues were still attached, so you could feel the anxiety building in his system. You hoped your lack thereof would put his mind to ease a little.

“Mm, I don’t know if I forgive you, but I have realised something. Actually, I realised two things. First, today, walking through the forest with the kids, I realised that you were right. There’s no other choice, but to follow them to the ends of the world and hope you can at least help them not fall off the edge. And if you have to fall instead, that’s fine as long as they are safe. So I think I owe you an apology.

Secondly, I realised I can’t change who you are, and I don’t want to. I love you. I love how kind and patient and compassionate you are. I love that you love your family, your baby brother so much that his safety comes first in your mind. You love fully, and give everything to the people you love, and that is what makes you a great brother and a great son…a great mate. It’s what will make you the best Olo’eyktan this clan has ever seen… it’s what will make you the best dad. So I can’t change that about you.

But what I can do is make sure I will always be around. I’ll always be next to you, and behind you and in front of you, and I’ll always have your back. So if anything like that ever happens again, I will protect you. And if I can’t protect you, I will heal you. I will stitch your wounds, and mend your broken bones, because putting pieces back together is what I do best, anyway. I won’t have to be scared anymore, cause I’ll just always be there for you. Deal?”

“Deal.” He said as he kissed you tenderly, and you felt the salty taste of his tears on your lips.

You made your way back a couple of hours later, and were shocked to discover the Sullys were still awake. You silently stepped towards the tent where Lo’ak, Kiri and Tuk were hiding, listening in to their parents’ shouted conversation.Kiri motioned for you to come and brought her hand to her lips, urging you to be quiet.

“This thing, this Quaritch, whatever he is, is going to walk right into here, right under Eywa’s nose.”

“I cannot, you cannot ask this. I cannot leave my people. I will not.”

“He’s hunting us, he’s targeting out family.”

“You cannot ask this!” Neytiri was furious, her screams loud and forlorn.“The children, everything they’ve ever known, the forest! THIS IS OUR HOME!”

“He had our children. He had them under his knife.” Jake’s voice was hoarse and pleading, hushed tones hiding the deep hopelessness echoed in his words.

“My father gave me this bow as he lay dying, and he said ‘Protect the people’. You’re Toruk Makto!”

“This will protect the people!”Jake’s voice was raised now, no longer poised, no longer holding back. “Quaritch has Spider, and that kid knows EVERYTHING! He knows our whole operation. He could bring them right in here.”

You felt annoyed at how quick Jake was to assume Spider would betray this family, the only family he’s ever known. Spider was a loud mouth, and he was just as reckless as Lo’ak, but he had a good heart. A strong heart. He is loyal and loves the Sullys and this clan more than he loves his own life, and you thought Jake knew that.

“If the people harbour us, they will die. Do you understand?”

“Look, I’ve got nothing. I’ve got no plan. But I can protect this family. That I can do. And I do know one thing. Wherever we go, this family is our fortress.”

So many thoughts engulfed your mind, so many emotions flooded your being, one more extreme and agonising than the next, but almost like a joke brought about by the universe, the only thing that rang supreme was the realisation the Tiongli was going to get to be Tsa’hik after all.

Taglist (thank you ily x) @changing7 @erenjaegerwifee @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @winchestertitties @puffb4ll @rebeccao03 @ultimatebluff @cottoncandy23 @zaddyneteyamlovergirl @n3t3y4msm4t3 @loquatious-josephi-krakousky

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agi-ppangx · 5 months

Text

won’t let go (seo changbin x gn!reader)

warnings: unspecified terminal illness, angst

author’s note: i have no excuse, im sorry in advance for breaking your hearts</3

you heard key jiggling when changbin entered your shared apartment. “i’m home!” he announced the second he stepped inside and soon after he joined you in the kitchen. “god, it smells amazing baby,” he said cutely, placing a soft kiss on your cheek. you were in the middle of preparing dinner for both of you, knowing that changbin was probably too exhausted to make something himself. you mustered every bit of the energy you had left and decided to make a warm soup to bring some long forgotten domesticity into your home which was sadly replaced with constant hospital visits. “how was your day?” you asked him, smiling, and he sighed loudly, sitting at the table. “so hard. we had so much work today and i’m exhausted,” he mumbled and you hummed at his words. “how about you baby? are you feeling okay?” he then asked, getting up and standing next to you at the counter. you nodded, looking at him with a smile. “yeah, i got up pretty late, but i cleaned the bathroom a little bit and now i’m making dinner,” you recalled your day, chopping some vegetables. you had come home from the hospital a few weeks before, finally being able to sleep in your own bed and spend some time with your fiancé. “you didn’t have to clean baby, you know i could do this on the weekend.” you stopped in your tracks, looking at him with emotionless eyes. “but i wanted to,” you muttered almost angrily, but soon decided to drop it since all you wanted was a bit of normality for once in your life. you sighed loudly, shaking your head and bringing a smile back to your face. “also! i saw that there’s a sale on the bookstore i really like and i thought i could go- oh,” you stopped abruptly when the world around you suddenly started spinning. you placed your hand on your forehead, the pain so unbearable that you dropped to your knees, tears already making their way down your cheeks. “yn? what’s going on?” changbin shouted, his voice filled with worry, but you heard him as if he was miles away, your ears ringing. “make it stop,” you wailed, desperately trying to clutch to changbin’s shirt. his arms engulfed you in a tight embrace, picking you up and carrying you to your bedroom. he placed you gently on the bed and sat beside you as you were sobbing uncontrollably. you were in so much pain you thought that was it - your last moment. you didn’t know how much time had passed when you finally felt the pain subside and you shakily threw your weak figure into changbin’s arms. he hadn’t left you for a moment, even though he hated to see you like this. “i can’t live like this anymore,” you whispered angrily. “i’m useless now, i can’t even cook a fucking dinner,” you continued, louder this time. changbin caressed your head, rocking you slightly from side to side. “don’t say that, please,” he begged weakly, his eyes welling with tears as well. “but it’s true,” your voice broke at the words. you couldn’t pretend anymore, this was happening. you were dying. “it doesn’t matter if i live any longer or die right now,” you finally said, your voice barely above the whisper and it was only then when changbin broke, his tears angrily flowing down his face. “how can you say that?” he uttered through gritted teeth. “it does matter to me! can’t you see how important to me you are? i refuse to let you go, ever,” he shouted and you looked up at him - the sight of his miserable expression shattered your heart in billions of pieces. you knew he loved you, but it was so hard to feel anything besides the constant pain and agony. you placed a soft peck on changbin’s lips, pouring all your love and adoration into the kiss, wanting him to remember this moment forever. “binnie?” you whispered into his lips. “i think we should rush the wedding.”

taglist !

@lynlyndoll @iyenbread @flooo71 @skz-streamer @inniescandy-01 @hannahhbahng @prettymiye0n @ggsez31 @laylasbunbunny @like-a-diamondinthesky @axel-skz @kittymaryam-thebrowniefairy @l3visbby

#skz #stray kids #stray kids headcanons #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #skz au #stray kids scenarios #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #skz angst #skz changbin #changbin imagines #changbin scenarios #changbin angst #changbin fanfic

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girl-next-door-writes · 11 months

Text

You Don't Have To Convince Me

Characters: Mycroft Holmes x reader

Summary: Mycroft’s second year of university is quite eventful, and there is nobody else he would rather have spent it with.

Word Count: 2912 words

Prompt: Fluff. Best friends. Roommates. Blurted out confession. Falling asleep on them.

A/N: @royalydamned and @savvy-devine666 both had similar requests, so I merged them to create this bit of fluff, and it made my heart very happy. This on kinda got away from me if I’m being totally honest and ended up being three times longer than anticipated, so please reblog if you like it.

Placing the last of his boxes onto his bed, Mycroft straightened up and surveyed his new room for the year. This would do nicely. Definitely better than the cramped first year building which was situated outside the college walls. This room was much more what he had thought of when he had first applied to Oxford. The beautiful ornate stonework of the leaden windows which looked out onto the courtyard would provide the perfect light for studying. The simply exquisite fireplace with its original blue tiles could hold a multitude of books on its mantle. He smiled to himself as he spotted the door to his very own ensuite, no more shared bathroom!

The soft knock on his doorframe had him turning his head, his smile only growing when he saw who it was had interrupted him.

“I wasn’t even the highest up on the ballot this year, can you imagine what sort of rooms those guys got?” You asked with a bright smile as you folded your arms across your chest and leaned against the doorframe.

“Well, they most likely are not finding they have to share a vestibule with their neighbour.”

“Oh, yes, because sharing this small space right here, with me, that would make your stunning view almost unbearable.”

“It does take the shine off it somewhat, but I will soldier on.”

“I bet you will. Just letting you know, I’m putting my umbrella stand out here. Feel free to use it.”

“I will, thank you.”

“Right, well, I’m going to unpack a little before dinner. I can’t believe they made the first dinner back a formal one! I’m not even sure which box I’ve shoved my robes in.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle as he watched you go, a warmth in his chest that he couldn’t quite explain. He had missed you over the summer, and to find you were now practically roommates gave him high hopes for this year, such a contrast to his last.

The unlikely friendship between the two of you had come about because you had decided it would. His first term at Oxford had been truly miserable; the accommodation was basic, the food even more so, having to share his space with strangers, many of whom had no concept of cleanliness or hygiene, his courses were elementary, although many of his peers appeared to struggle to keep up. Mycroft had found himself as lonely and bored as he had at school, leading him to spend his time alone, something which you had noticed around late October.

He had been sitting in the cloisters, sheltered from the wind as he read, reluctant to return to the halls of residence and the chaos that would bring. You had sat down beside him, not even asked, just sat there. Curiosity eventually got the better of him, and he had looked up only to find you smiling sweetly. You had introduced yourself to him and immediately began talking about the architecture that surrounded you both. The information was rudimentary, obviously what you had picked up from your campus tour, but he found himself hanging on your every word. From that moment on, you seemed to appear by his side, and after a few weeks, Mycroft had found himself seeking you out too. A strange sort of friendship, but it worked. You were his best friend. His best friend who, he had realised over the summer, he was hopelessly in love with.

Spending time with you was so easy. Although you would often offer him an excuse to be in his presence, he had never really needed one. You didn’t have to sell him on spending his time with you. In fact, that was probably one of the only things he never needed convincing of. Just sitting quietly with you as you both read, or as he read and you talked about anything that came to your mind, that was more than enough for Mycroft. He cherished it, and so he knew he would never risk losing you by expressing his growing desire to be more than your best friend.

“MYCROFT! THERE’S A SPIDER!” Your shriek had him shaking his head fondly as he made his way to your room, prepared to save you from the errant arachnid.

Bundled up against the chilly April wind, the two of you wandered through the grounds. The idea had been to get some fresh air. This was an idea that both of you were now regretting as the sky above grew grey, filling with foreboding clouds. So much for the joys of Spring. The thought that it was more likely to snow at this time of year than December entered his mind, but he decided to keep that to himself. Despite the poor weather, he had you all to himself out here and he wanted to hold onto that a little longer.

As you made your way along Addison’s Walk, Mycroft felt the silence between you was rather loaded. That had been happening more often, what had once been a pleasant, peaceful quiet had now become thick with all the things he tried not to let escape him. In an attempt to diffuse the situation, he endeavored to make small talk.

“C.S. Lewis wrote Chanson d’Aventure about this walk.” He said stiffly as he shoved his hands deeper into his pockets in a bid to negate the urge to reach for your hand.

“That knowledge would indeed be more impressive if I didn’t also know about the plaque by the Holywell Ford gate that tells you that. Although you probably have known that fact since you were three.” You teased with a soft smile, glancing up at him as his cheeks flushed slightly.

“Okay, well…” He stopped and looked out over the meadow, eyes searching. “…ah, there. You see those purple flowers over there?”

“The ones that look like drooped tulips?” You asked, moving to his side and following his gaze. For a moment, Mycroft could neither deny nor confirm your question as you had now successfully invaded his personal space, and his brain seemed to lose half its IQ points.

“Erm, yeah. Yeah.” He nodded, no longer looking out at the flowers.

“What about them?” You asked, always interested in whatever fact your friend wanted to impart.

“Oh, erm, they are called Fritillaria meleagris, or snakes head. They are incredibly rare, and they have been growing here in this meadow for over 200 years. If you get up close then you can see they have this beautiful pattern, like the scales of a snake.”

“Hence the name.”

“Yes, rather.” He smiled. You never told him to stop showing off, or that he was boring. You rather seemed to enjoy his breadth of knowledge, even if most would deem it useless.

“Probably best not to pick a whole bunch then.”

“I suspect that might get you into trouble.”

“Well, if I am going to get into trouble, I would want it to be for something much more fun than picking flowers. I mean, they are pretty, but they aren’t my favourites.”

“I am aware.” Mycroft hummed, having committed any and all facts about you to memory.

“I have no idea how you fit it all into that brilliant mind of yours. I swear, when we are old and grey and in a nursing home, you will still be able to tell me what I was wearing the first day we met.” You chuckled, looping your arm through his as you began to walk back towards Buckingham Court.

“Would you not think that strange? Creepy, even? If out of the blue, I told you something like that?” Curiosity and nerves tinged the edge of his voice as the two of you fell into step. He was used to people being repulsed by his manner, his mind, him in general. Yet, here you were, not trying to change him or fix him in any way, just happy with who he was. Still, he couldn’t quiet the noises in his head, the voices of the past telling him he was weird, peculiar, not right.

“I think it’s rather impressive. I mean, to be honest, you could tell me I was wearing almost anything, and I’d probably agree because I have no clue what I was wearing on the day we met. I think you could tell me a different thing each time.” Your laughter hung in the air like a beautiful melody that he longed to cling to.

“Blue denim jeans which were too baggy for you, rolled up at the cuffs, an oversized grey knitted jumper with pink lines across the bottom that hung off your shoulder and showed the white t-shirt you had on underneath, and white trainers with scuffmarks on the toes from where you kick them off. Your hair was in your face, and you had a blue bic biro in your mouth.” The memory was engrained in his mind, the way you had smiled around that pen before removing it from your lips and launching into talking as if you had simply been paused mid conversation.

“See. That sounds like something I would wear but I can’t say for sure you’re right. I’ve just got to trust you, Mycroft Holmes.” You shrugged, totally non-plussed by his revelation, an action that made his heart race. You saw who he really was and didn’t run away screaming, how could he ever find the words to tell you how much you meant to him?

“I still can’t believe you got tickets for this! They are like gold dust.” You grinned at him as you took your seat on the blanket.

“Well, we do get first dibs, I believe that is the term.” Mycroft smiled as he sat beside you, leaving a respectable distance between the two of you, a distance you wasted no time in irradicating.

“I know, but the Magdalen film night is one of the social events of the year! I wanted to come last year but tickets were all gone so fast.”

“And that’s why I ensured we got some this year.” He didn’t feel the need to tell you that he had practically bribed everyone who had any influence to make certain you could join the other students on the lawn and watch a film on a large makeshift screen.

The film wasn’t one Mycroft had any deep desire to watch, but sitting with you, on a blanket on the lawn, as the last warm rays of the summer sun set and gave way to a stelliferous sky, that was something he could tolerate a below par film for. Anything to make you happy. Mycroft had realised that he was much better at compromise, but only when it came to you.

He had to admit, the organization of the event was excellent, and he was glad that he had brought enough cushions to ensure you were comfortable. At some point, he had lost the thread of the film, too distracted by the weight of your body pressed against his as you leaned on him. Your head rested against his shoulder so perfectly it was as if it was molded to be right there and he slowly gave in to the desire to rest his cheek on the top of your head, his eyes fluttering closed as he held his breath.

The evening began to cool, and he found you snuggling into him a little more, seeking out his heat to fight the goosebumps erupting on your bare skin. Shifting slightly, he picked up his discarded jacket and draped it over your shoulders, his fingers lingering on your upper arm before returning to the blanket as a joist to prop you both up. Despite being surrounded by people, this felt incredibly intimate, even more so when you let out a soft, sleepy sigh and laid your head more against his chest.

The film eventually came to an end, but the mixture of fresh air and long days studying had resulted in you dozing off at some point, your arm resting around his waist and nose pressed to his chest. Mycroft was at an absolute loss for what to do, uncertain of the etiquette in such circumstances. He was aware of people noticing his predicament, met with knowing smirks as he fought the urge to tell them that this wasn’t what they thought, desperate to protect your reputation.

Deciding that the only course of action was to wake you, he gently brushed the hair back from your face and leaned down to speak softly.

“Darling, the film has finished.” He tried, but there was no response from you at all. “You really would be much better sleeping in a bed, my dear. I cannot imagine that I am that comfortable.”

“hmmmm.” You sighed softly, nuzzling into him as you stretched a little.

“I would have offered to carry you, but sadly I am unable to carry both you and all the cushions and blanket. A failing, I know, but sadly I am sorely lacking in these situations.”

“You need a hand, mate?” One of the rowing club had wandered over and Mycroft immediately felt even more inadequate. “Your other half seems to be deep in a REM cycle. How about you carry them, and I’ll grab the blanket and stuff?”

“Thank you.” Mycroft managed a tight smile, he did not wish to correct the boys mistake for two reasons, the first was that it sent a heat through him hearing someone else refer to the two of you as a couple, and the second was the concern that if he admitted you were not his, then perhaps this attractive young man would take you from his arms.

As he walked towards your halls, he felt you nuzzle into him, your warm breath fanning across his skin, and just for a second he could have sworn your lips brushed across his neck, an act that almost caused him to drop you. Surely it had been a sleepy accident, not intended. There was no way you could see him as more than a friend. Right?

“I don’t see why we have to move rooms every year. It seems like unnecessary upheaval if you ask me.” You huffed as you sat down heavily on his bed, surveying the many boxes that were stacked around his room.

“Perhaps your new room will be even better than your current one.” Mycroft reasoned, leaning against his desk.

“Not possible. My room this year is perfect. I don’t want to move to Mallory Court. Why can’t we stay right here?” You pouted, your brow furrowing in a way Mycroft couldn’t help but think was adorable. “I mean, I’ve got to lug all my stuff into storage and then all the way to Mallory! At least you get to stay here in Buckingham.”

“I still have to move my things into storage and then back out. One might argue that my moving things is more pointless than you moving things.” He tried to make the situation light even though the thought of residing so far from you twisted his stomach. You had been so close all year and now…

“You’ll come visit me, right?”

“You do realise you are not moving to another city, just another courtyard. It is a five-minute walk at most.” He chuckled.

“Yeah! A whole five minutes!” You said dramatically. “What if I need you?”

“Well, if you need me, then I will be right there. You’ll just have to give me five minutes.”

“Are you sure you need your own room? Can I not convince you to come live in my wardrobe?”

“Darling, as much as the idea of living in a wardrobe is intriguing, we both know just how much you cram into your wardrobe. I fear there is simply not room for me in there as well.”

“You will miss me though, right?” You looked up at him and his knees felt weak as he gripped the edge of the desk. “You won’t go spending all your time with your new neighbours?”

“I will not miss you, because we will still see each other all the time. I promise.” He said softly as you got up and made your way over to him. Your arms wrapped around his middle, and you placed your head on his chest, hugging him in a way that felt familiar and new all at once, despite the increased frequency of such interactions between you.

“God, I love you.” He murmured into your hair. It wasn’t until he felt you stiffen that he realised his inner monologue had escaped his lips. His eyes widened and he looked down to find you looking at him curiously.

“I- Just to clarify, for my own clarification really, were you saying that to God? Because I didn’t think you were a deeply religious person. OR was that about me? And IF it was about me, was it like ‘I love you, like a sister’ or… or was it more like ‘I love you so much that the thought of being parted makes it hard to breathe’?”

His mouth opened and closed a few times, his vast vocabulary failing him at such a crucial juncture. You must have seen something in his eyes though, because you took a deep, determined breath.

“Because, if I am being honest, at the risk of completely fucking this up and you leaving for the summer and never wanting to see me again, I am really hoping it’s the latter, because I think that I have actually been very much in love with you since first year.”

“Really?” he spluttered, not quite believing this was real.

“Shit. I’ve really fucked this up haven’t I? Sorry. Pretend I didn’t just say all that and we can go pack up our rooms and have-“ Your rant was interrupted by Mycroft’s lips pressing against yours.

As far as first kisses go, it wasn’t perfect. Although he was technically aware of how these things were done, his inexperience was very evident, but that didn’t matter in that moment as he felt you melt into him. When you did finally pull back to catch your breath, you both had goofy smiles on your lips.

“It was most certainly the ‘I love you so much I cannot imagine my life without you in it,’ kind of I love you. The ‘I am not sure how much studying I am going to be able to get done next year because all I want to do is kiss you,’ kind of I love you. Just for clarification.” He smirked, earning a light smack to his chest as you chuckled.

“This moment, this one right now, it’s one you will absolutely tell me about in that nursing home. You’d better be adding it to the list.”

“Oh, trust me, my dear, it is forever committed to my memory.” He hummed as you nuzzled his nose before leaning in for another of many kisses.

#Mycroft Holmes #Mycroft Holmes x reader #Mycroft x reader #gndw fic

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glenechoslasher · 24 days

Text

"Silver Lining" ||

Charles Smith x GN!Reader

Rating: None

Length: 2.5k

A/N: I had the idea run in my head after a friend told me about it storming where they live, which a little fic popped into my brain, and I do have an idea for a second part if anyone shows interest~

But I adore Charles and think he deserves the world. This is my first time ever writing for him, so I hope I did some justice!

Summary: You were separated from your father while on a business run, and now you're stranded with no way home and soaked from the raging storm. A stranger approaches you and offers his hand, and when you take it, you find a new friend.

The only thing that made today even worse was the steady rumble of the storm that was rolling in toward your direction. Of course, why wouldn't it start storming soon? You felt the chill of the air hit your skin, the leaves in the trees slowly began to wave gently, and then their dance became panicked. The clouds ahead rolled in, deep, grey, and heavy. You tried to find shelter quickly before you felt the gentle, cold raindrops begin to fall, but there was none around for miles, and you had no clue.

You'd run for a cluster of trees and figured that the grouping of leaves and branches would save you somehow, which was true for the moment, but as soon as the heavier clouds slowly made their way overhead, you knew you were doomed. Your entire outfit was soaked, the jacket you had that was draped over your head barely kept the water from getting into your face, it just dripped right through the fabric. You let out a frustrated groan as the rain hid your tears, but you wiped them away angrily and figured you'd just wait till the storm passed.

If the thought of asking strangers for help didn't terrify you, you would have been waving your arms frantically so you could have been seen sooner, but you remained hidden among the trees for now. You figured you could wait it out and see what would happen from there, only problem was that it wasn't letting up.

Over an hour passed and you were feeling as miserable as a wet cat in a burlap sack, and there had barely been anyone on the roads to flag down in the first place. You sniffled and wished that you weren't so nervous, you felt defeated.

What you didn't hear was the sound of hoofbeats approaching, the thunder drowned that out completely, instead, you had your arms wrapped around your legs as you lowered your head, wishing the rain would stop just for a little while.

The man on his horse rode as fast as he could to try and get back to his camp, he had been just caught out in the storm coming back from an errand he had to run for Dutch, so if he timed it right, he could get back before it really got too unbearable. His horse, Taima, was sprinting fast since she didn't want to be out in this weather either, the man couldn't blame her. He was almost so set on getting back that he barely saw you, a brief blur in his peripheral, but he managed to spot you.

He pulled on Taima's reigns and she chuffed in response, wondering why they were both slowing down, but she trotted where she was needed. The horse trotted right up to you as you shivered from the cold, and you looked up in curiosity.

“Are you alright?” The man asked you, looking down with wet hair plastered to his face. He was large, bulky, like he could punch a man once and he'd be out of commission for a week. “Are you hurt?”

You looked up from him and stared for a second, wondering if it was your imagination conjuring a savior of some kind or if it truly was someone there to save you. “Hello, I uh, I’m cold… and lost.”

The man then hopped down from his horse and crouched under the leaves with you, checking to see if there was anything out of the ordinary. “Hmm. You seem unhurt, so that's good. Where do you stay? I could give you a ride back.”

You're shivering as you look up at him, wondering how far you'd gotten from home. “I live near Emerald Station on Emerald Ranch, you know where it is?”

“That's quite a ride from here, how'd you end up all the way out here?”

You looked ashamed, but he didn't press any further, instead, he reached for your hand. “Come on, I'll get you home, okay?”

You just smiled up at him and nodded, then grabbed his hand. He was so warm despite the rain still pouring down, and you wished you could retain some of the heat he was giving off, it felt wonderful. He assisted you onto his horse, but instead of sitting on the back, he made sure to sit you in the front, that way his arms could envelop you and give you some of his body heat.

“I hope you don't mind, this way you can keep some warmth,” he explained as he settled in on the saddle.

You tried to get as comfortable as you could, but it didn't matter, the heat was the most important. You clung to his arms and snuggled back against his chest, shaking like mad as you braced yourself for the ride. “This will work, thank you,” you sighed in contentment, already feeling safer with this man as your teeth chattered.

“I'm Charles,” he said as he snapped the reigns of his horse, and now you were on your way back home.

It was embarrassing really, how you ended up all the way out here on your own, far from Emerald Ranch. You and your father had taken a long ride out for a business venture just outside of Rhodes, and of course, you wandered a tad too far from the wagon, interested in the beautiful nature that surrounded you. When you had been far too invested in following a small group of foxes, there was a commotion and gunfire, so you ran. Of course, you ran, you wanted to stay safe. You heard your father shouting for you to hide, all you heard was his voice and gunfire.

You wished he was okay…

The sharp cold from the rain began to sting as soon as you felt the sliver of warmth from Charles, but you tried not to let it affect you too much, you just had to hope that you would be home and your father would be alright. You were so lost in thought that you weren’t sure if the man had spoken at all or if you had been imagining it, but when he cleared his throat, you looked up at him in confusion.

“Did…you say something? I’m sorry, I was thinking…” you explained timidly.

The man looked down at you ever so slightly to check on you, and you caught a glimpse of the scar that adorned his cheek, but you said nothing about it aloud. You were curious how he got it, but you had no place to ask such things, nor would you have that courage. “I was just asking you if you were hurt at all, or if you could remember what happened.”

“Oh, um, I got lost, separated from my father. I don’t know if he’s alive…” Saying it out loud made it too real, you wanted to cry with how your entire body felt as if you were riding waves.

Charles continued to ride down the path, keeping an eye out for anything out of the ordinary or Lemoyne Raiders, which had become a larger problem as of late. “Well, do you remember how you got separated?” He asked you, hoping you could give him something to work with so he could help, considering he could track fairly well.

Your eyes darted down and watched as his hands held onto the reigns, you committed the lines, the scars, and the contours by memory as you sat there between the horse and his chest. “I think… something happened with his business proposal he had with some men, maybe some bounty hunters or gang members… I dunno, I wandered off and got separated before I heard the gunshots.”

Charles listened and continued to guide Taima, finally crossing into New Hanover territory, but there was still quite a ways to go, and the rain was slowly but surely mellowing as you both continued to ride. Maybe asking you what happened wasn’t such a great idea, despite wanting to reunite you with your father, maybe you required more of a distraction than recalling painful memories.

“Emerald Ranch is a nice open area, you lived there long?”

You were thankful for the topic change as you wiped away the tears and rain that fell against your face. “Yeah, my whole life so far, it’s quiet mostly, never really get a lot of nonsense there. I get to watch the deer and wild horses a lot,” you said as you took in the scenery around you. Despite the circumstances, you thought that it was a beautiful area.

A small smile played at his lips. “So you like nature, I'm assuming?”

“Mhm, watching the wild horses is my favorite thing when I get to sit alone in the fields, it's peaceful.”

“I like nature as well, I track a lot of animals and you get to see all sorts of creatures and places you never really expect.”

“How far have you been here, you know, in the country?”

“Well, Colter has been the coldest and farthest up I've been, the mountains are no joke.”

You thought of how beautiful the snow looked across the mountains, wondering just how cold it was out there, and just what types of animals inhabited the snowy hills. “That is pretty far,” you pointed out with a small smile.

Charles nodded and made a content hum, wondering if he should tell you about the interesting creatures he saw while he was stranded in the mountains mere months ago, but he had wondered if this conversation was stimulating enough for you, that is until you spoke up again.

“What kind of animals are up there? I heard there’s a rare bison that’s seen around there, its fur is pure white.” You had heard stories around the states that there were legendary, rare animals that were scattered all around, most of their coats being a pure snowy white or a rare pattern.

Charles was impressed with your knowledge of things surrounding that nature, but he was also interested in spotting some of the rare creatures on his own time. “I believe you’re right, I have a friend who goes hunting regularly to help feed our camp, and he says there are rare animals scattered across the states.”

Your eyes brightened at the mention of it and wondered just how many there were out in the world, you were curious to know if there were even any nearby, so maybe once you were home safe and sound, you could ask around. The silence between you two wasn’t uncomfortable in the slightest, but you felt that he was a man who didn’t say much, kept his cards close, which you didn’t mind. You weren’t exactly dissimilar to the man who saved you, always feeling that your feelings and thoughts shouldn’t be overshared, you never knew who would use that against you.

You could finally see the outskirts of the ranch as you rode closer, your chest tightened, hoping you could see your father's wagon, but maybe he’d gotten home some other way. Or what if he wasn’t home at all? What if something-

“We’re just about there,” Charles said, snapping you out of your daze. “Which house is it? I’ll make sure you get there.” He slowed Taima down to a trot as he entered the grounds of the ranch, and you pointed.

“There, that larger house in the center, to the right.” You were still in his arms now, wondering if you’d get home to your worried mother, already seeing her face brighten when she laid her eyes upon you, but that smile faded when your father was nowhere in sight. What would you tell her? HOW could you tell her?

Charles stopped his horse and he patted your shoulder gently, then grabbed your hand as you slowly hopped down. He then proceeded to jump down beside you and wrap an arm around your shoulders, walking you straight up to the door. “Are you going to be okay?” He asked in his gentle tone, looking over at you with an unreadable expression.

When you froze at the door, not reaching for the handle, you looked up at him with worry etched into your features. “I’m not sure… I don’t know if my father is here, or alive for that matter…”

“I can keep a look out-”

The door swung open, revealing your disheveled father looking like a sopping wet cat, but his face conveyed all the love in the world when you stood there. “Oh, sweetheart! You’re alive! I can’t believe what happened, oh-” Your father threw his arms around you and almost sobbed against you.

You stood there in complete surprise, but that heaviness lifted as soon as you realized this wasn’t a cruel trick. Your arms wrapped around your father and squeezed so tight that you thought he’d pop. “Dad, I… I thought something happened…” You sighed in relief and then looked back at Charles, who was beginning to walk away. You pulled away from your father and reached out, touching Charles’s shoulder. “Wait.”

He turned to look at you and offered a quizzical look. “Are you alright?”

“Well, er, yes, but please,” you began as you began to dig through your pocket, then you pulled out a few crumpled bills that were soaked. “Er, sorry, but please, this is all I have and I want you to have this.”

Charles shook his head with a small smile. “No, that’s quite alright, you keep it.” He grabbed your hand and curled your fingers back around the bills, his large hand encasing yours.

“But, I insist you take it for the trouble.”

He just smiled a little wider. “Trust me, it was no trouble at all. You stay safe, okay?” He placed a hand gently on your shoulder to express how much he appreciated your kindness.

He was kind, and selfless, and could have probably used the cash to help himself. Instead, he just refused it and just wanted to see you safe. In a moment of weakness, you did the same as you did with your father and hugged the larger man, thankful that he came to your rescue. You smiled as you squeezed him, and slowly but surely, his arms wrapped around you and he stroked your shoulders gently.

You told him your name and your smile only grew. “Can I see you again?” You asked him with a sudden urgency, hoping to repay his kindness later on.

“Thank you, Charles…”

“You’re welcome, oh, I never caught your name.” He pulled away and looked down at you, your eyes shining with happiness as you flashed him a smile.

He was taken aback by this question, unsure of how to really answer, mostly because he never knew what would happen with Dutch and the camp, he didn’t want to make promises he couldn’t keep. But when Charles looked down at you and you just looked at him so fervently that it was as if he couldn’t say no, even if he wanted to.

“Of course, I would like that very much.”

#tinalbion writings #charles smith #charles smith rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #charles smith drabble #charles smith writing #writing drabble #red dead redemption 2 charles smith #red dead writings #charles smith x you #charles smith x reader #gender neutral reader #fluff #slight angst if you squint

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whompswhomp · 9 days

Text

sandalwood and ocean water.

Omni-Man x Homelander content includes: fluff, beach themes, grumpy homelander, protective omni-man, kisses, comfort, confessions (etc.)

John hated the beach. Hated, hated, hated the beach. Everything about it, from the overbearing blaze of the sun, the too-loud rush of the waves, the sounds of annoying little shit-eating kids running amok in the distance made his skin crawl. He’d have been more than happy to stay in Vought Tower with the fancy Norwegian air conditioning system and a popsicle or two despite the unbearable heatwave ravaging the city.

Yet, when Nolan had walked into the common room to see most of the Seven draped half-naked across furniture, scorching like ants under a lens in the palace of glass windows that made up their living quarters, he suggested that they all take the day off and go to the beach. The Deep had of course been the first on board, and the others dogpiled on so fast that John’s protests of “No, we’re not going to the goddamn beach,” and “There’s nothing fun about swimming in a giant basin of fish piss,” were entirely drowned out. The damned idiots had run off to change into their swimsuits and pack their bags before he could even blink. “Looks like you’ve lost the vote by majority rule, my dear,” Nolan had teased him, eyes crinkling in that stupidly handsome way when he smiled and leaned down to press a kiss atop his lover’s golden hair.

It was situations like this that really made John wish he didn’t let Nolan get away with shit all the time. One flash of those perfect teeth, one soft look from those gorgeous sky blue eyes, and every synapse in John’s brain that fired in order for him to process and successfully say the word “no” died a miserable death.

“Whatever.” John mumbled, crossing his arms beneath his chest. He tried his best to actually stay annoyed at his lover instead of melting like ice cream in the summer sun at the soft look in his eyes. A look that was reserved only for him– the only warmth in an otherwise endless expanse of ice.

Nolan simply smiled and gestured towards the ocean, where waves crashed gently over the sand. “Join me?” he asked, extending a hand towards John, “A little saltwater and sunlight will do you some good. And there are so many beautiful sights to see underwater.”

John had to force himself not to make eye contact with Nolan or he knew he’d end up saying yes, so he distracted himself by reaching over to the small cooler at his side and withdrawing a popsicle. He shoved half of it in his mouth in one go, wincing a little at the sudden cold. “I’m busy. Go have fun splashing around in the water like a four year old. Don’t be surprised if the Deep starts biting your fucking ankles or whatever.” he grumbled through a mouthful of cherry flavored ice.

Nolan narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously, but shrugged and turned to head for the water. “Suit yourself, then. Don’t eat too much sugar,” he told him, and rushed off towards the waves. John rolled his eyes at his comment, reaching for another popsicle once he was gone. He’d make his way through the whole box if he damn well wanted to, thank you very much.

Although he’d told Nolan he didn’t want to swim, John found himself unable to keep his eyes off the sight of his boyfriend in the water. For someone so powerful, it was incredible to see how graceful he was in the water, like he belonged there. He’d dive down towards a deeper part of the water, then resurface, sweeping his dark hair out of his eyes like a supermodel in one of those dumbass commercials. It was stupid how hot he was. No one should be that good-looking, he thought to himself as he blindly reached into the open cooler for another popsicle, having indeed made his way through the whole box in the span of an hour.

However, when his fingers reached inside, whatever they brushed inside the cooler was definitely not a popsicle. It moved. As in, scuttled. He could hear whatever it was skittering around the ice inside. Letting out a very undignified squawk, John scrambled to his feet, overturning the entire cooler in the process and sending frozen margarita pouches and various ice creams and popsicles scattering across the sand. “What the fuck, what the fuck?!” he yelled. Out of the cooler scuttled a small hermit crab, clearly startled by all the commotion. John yelped and climbed fully up onto his lounge chair, curling up as far into the corner of it as he could, as if the thing would attack him. He tried zapping at it with his heat vision, but missed as it began scurrying back into the cooler to escape.

“John! Are you alright?” John heard, turning to see Nolan running up to him with a look of concern. He didn’t even have the decency to be embarrassed, instead pointing to the cooler with a shaky hand. “There’s a crab! In the damn cooler! It won’t leave!”

Nolan stared blankly at him for a few seconds, his expression unreadable as he processed this information. Then, much to his chagrin, he started laughing. Laughing. At him. John wanted to wring his fucking neck. “The hell are you laughing at?! Get rid of it!”

“Oh, I’m sorry my dear, but this is too funny. The great Homelander is afraid of a hermit crab.” Nolan chuckled, picking up the cooler with one hand and reaching in. He pulled the hermit crab out by its shell, the little thing peeking its beady eyes out at John, which freaked the man out even more. “Seriously? This little thing? Come on John, it’s more scared of you than you are of it. It’s kind of cute, even.”

“That thing is not cute! It’s fucking horrifying, get it away from me right now– stop! Don’t bring it closer!” John shouted at him, snatching his sunglasses off his face and chucking them at Nolan’s chest when he got closer with it to try to show him. “Get it out of my face! Nolan! I’m serious!”

“Alright, alright. Relax, I’m just playing with you. It can’t hurt you, you know.” Nolan soothed, placing the crab down on the sand and gently shooing it away. He knelt down next to John, dusting off the fallen refreshments and placing them back in the cooler. He offered the blonde his hand again, getting him settled back down comfortably in his chair instead of folded up against one arm in terror. “Why so jumpy today, hm? I’d expect you to be out in the water challenging the others to a splash fight or something.”

John glared at him, but scooted over to make room for him on the edge of his lounge chair. As much as he hated to admit it, his boyfriend was right. He found the beach to be a terribly overwhelming environment. He was always grumpy when he was overstimulated, and everything about this place made him uneasy. Not to mention that this was his first time ever actually spending time at the beach. Sure, he’d flown high overhead before, but he’d never actually been to the beach. Truth be told, he didn’t even know how to swim. Vought had never seen it as a priority, and especially not since The Deep joined the team.

“It’s nothing.” he insisted, keeping his eyes on the ground. John hated being in unfamiliar environments, especially ones where he wasn’t in control. Although they were few and far between, this was definitely one of them. He couldn’t look like a fish out of water in front of the others. And especially not in front of Nolan. Showing weakness was still not his forte, even though his lover had made it clear that he loved all of him, even the weaknesses he tried to pretend he didn’t have.

“Johnny. What are you not telling me?” Nolan asked, placing a hand on his lover’s thigh. He reached out with the other to gently grab John’s chin, tilting his face back toward his own so he’d meet his gaze. And damn it, he couldn’t look into those eyes without feeling safe. He knew he could share anything with him. Even the parts of himself that he hated most. Especially those parts.

“I don’t know how to swim,” John found himself blurting out before he could stop himself, “And I’ve never been to the beach before. I don’t know if I like it. It’s… it’s new.”

“Oh, puppy.” Nolan sighed, reaching for John’s hands and lifting them both to his lips to press gentle kisses to the backs of them. “Why didn’t you tell me? I know you’re not fond of new places, but this doesn’t have to be so scary. I’m here with you. You know I’d burn the world before I ever let anything in it hurt you.” he said, and his words were so tender that it made John’s heart ache.

The blonde supe sighed, and leaned forward, burying his face into Nolan’s shoulder. As usual, he was so warm, and he smelled like sandalwood and ocean water. It was John’s favorite scent in the world. “I’m scared.” he mumbled.

“I know. But I’ve got you. Come on. Let’s take a dip, hun.” Nolan encouraged, scooping John up gently into his arms bridal-style, as if he weighed little more than a feather.

“Fine. But if you drop me I’m breaking up with you.” John warned him, folding his arms and looking up at him expectantly.

“Then I guess you’d better hold on tight,” Nolan grinned, and bounded towards the water, causing John to cling to him like a disgruntled cat.

He couldn’t have hidden his smile if he tried.

#homelander #my art #fanart #nolan grayson #omnilander #the boys #omni man #fanfic #fluff #invincible #fanfiction fluff #art

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soap143 · 2 months

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Hii omg I love your work so much!! Can I please request a lee Seungmin fic with lers Minho, Jeongin and Chan where Minnie is in like a really bad lee mood and he's acting extra mopey and bratty at dance practice or something and the 3 lers tickle him gently but then he asks them to wreck him so they do. Sorry lee Seungmin has been on my mind these past few days and you're my favourite author so I figured I'd ask hehe. You don't have to do this if you don't want to though!! I love you and have a great day💖💖💖

Sorry that I kept you waiting, anon😭 I can’t believe that I’m your favourite author…❤️❤️ This SUCH an amazing and cute idea, I just wanted to leave the best for last

(by any chance, are the same anon that requested a few other fics with lee!han? Because then you’re my fav anon🤗)

Happy reading!

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Too soft

lee!seungmin

lers!minho, chan, jeongin

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That morning, Seungmin had woken up as usual. It definetly didn’t seem like in just a couple hours he’d be experiencing the worst lee mood of his life.

What could’ve caused such immense torture, you may ask. Well, it was simple. The two biggest lers; Minho and Chan, decided to be extra mischevious and vegeful that day. They wrecked Jeongin so so badly in their morning practice, just because he wouldn’t get a certain move right. It was all playful, of course.

The puppy couldn’t help but feel jealous. He even tried messing up the dance which he had memorised like the back of his hand, but the oldest members of Stray Kids just patiently taught him the correct way, no tickling involved.

This messed up his temper, and he was sort of mad until lunch came. After having some delicious homemade food, his mood completely flipped. He went from mopey and sad to… Bratty and cheerful.

Even while they were washing the dishes, he wouldn’t stop annoying his hyungs.

“What’s up with you? You’ve been down all day long. Who flipped a switch in you?” Minho pondered, flicking his wet fingers at the younger “Yah! Can’t I just be happy? And do- UGH! Don’t flick at me!”.

Lee Know was too educated in the topic of tickling to not understand what was happening here. He watched as Seungmin approached every single member, proceedinv to tease and torment them. The view woke up the merciless ler in Minho…

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“Wait,you’re saying he wants to be tickled..?” the leader questioned, tilting his head “Yes. Didn’t you see how his eyes were burning with anger and enviousness when we punished I.N. this morning?” the bunny stated, wiggling his brows at the maknae.

“I don’t understand how he could be jealous of me. I almost died!” Innie whined, pushing the dancer away “Well, he does. And we must satify him. It’s our duty!” Lee Know announced, grabbing both of his bandmate’s arms and dragging them towards their future victim’s room.

All this happened while Minnie was sulking in his bedroom. Nothing helped with his unbearable mood, and he was slowly going insane. His miserable thoughts were disturbed when he saw 3 men walking into his living space.

“We’re here to help you. Just lay down with your arms up. You’ll save both of us some time.” the tickle master immediately got to the point “Whoa, what are talking about! I-I am not doing that!” Seungmin cursed himself for stumbling over his words.

“Save those flustered stutters for later. Chan, Innie, get him!” Lee Know instructed, launching himself along with the other lers towards the poor pup.

In no time, the second youngest was completely pinned and completely vulnerable in the hands of 3 merciless lers. He wasn’t complaining though. The process was immensely flustering and he was only making things more complicated by acting oblivious.

“What’s the plan here?” the puppy asked. Everyone’s head whipped towards said boy, giving him an “are you serious right now?” look.

“How much more obvious must we be?” the maknae groaned in fake frustration, rubbing his temples “Seriously, Min, I didn’t think you were that stupid!” the leader’s comment made the vocalist redden up and turn his face away from the members in embarassment.

“Let’s get started! I think we should be gentle at first. You know, to warm him up~” Lee Know definetly knew what he was doing, as he caringly placed his arms on the younger’s sides “How about you start taking your medicine, you old man!”

Jeongin gasped, already praying for the older “Ah, I see that you still, somehow, have enough energy to be bratty… Come on, guys! Let’s attack him with the softest tickles ever!” the cat lover announced, a knowing, filthy smirk smothered across his face.

The bunny started off said attack by gently tracing and squeezing the taller’s sides “Mihihihihinho nohohoho!” the mean ler’s smirk grew even larger. Seungmin knew what he was getting himself into with such lack of honorifics.

The oldest of the four was busy circling soft little circles on the singer’s armpits “Chahahahahahahahannie~ plehehehehease!” Minnie complained, bucking his hips and shaking his head side to side.

The youngest was the last to join the tickle party with some nice and gentle squeezes on the older’s thighs, accompanied by some tracing on the incredibly sensitive inner part of the body part.

“Plehehehehease, youhuhuhu’re ahahahahall crahahahahahazy!” the tallest of them all shrieked, loud and bubbly giggles pouring out of his throat.

The puppy didn’t know how much longer he could handle all these torturous fingers that were completely glued to his overly ticklish torso.

“Oh, so we’re the crazy ones? You’re the one who refuses to use honorifics even in such position! Seems like you’re asking for it~” the leader pointed out, digging in slightly depper into the younger’s pits.

“WhahahahHAHAHt ahahahahahare yoho-UGH! TahahahahaHAHAhahlking ab-abohout?” Seungmin pointlessly asked.

His plan started working. If he just annoyed the lers, at one point or another, they would give up on the light tickles and get their very much deserved revenge. Too bad Minho knew Minnie’s plan, and was fighting every single nerve in his body that was twitching with anger.

“Come on, I think he has had enough of these agonizingly gentle touches, how about we switch up?” Jeongin suggested, growing tired of the repetitive motions he kept on doing on the older’s leg.

“WAIT! Are we sure the man himself wants this? I mean, we wouldn’t wanna make him uncomfortable by going rough, wouldn’t we?” the cat man jumped in with a statement that made the puppy flush red just at the thought of telling his hyungs and dongsaeng how he was perfectly fine with the merciless squeezes and pokes he was about to recieve.

“Oh my, I handn’t even thought about that! We are the consent kings, nobody’s uncomfy in our presence!” Chan dramatically announced.

“Obviously! So sorry I didn’t ask, Seungmin-hyung!” Innie gasped in realization, slapping his mouth with his palm.

“Alright, let’s start over. Seungminnie, tell us, do you want us to give you harsh tickles?” the second oldest questioned, turning his haze towards said boy.

The vocalist cringed at the question, twisting his head the opposite direction, trying to ignore the hot blush that had made its’ way onto his face “I-I wouldn’t want you to, but you could do that…” Seungmin barely squeeked out, tugging at his pinned arms in an attempt to cover his face.

“So you do not want us do it. Understood. Guys, I guess this is the end of this session.” Lee Know proclaimed, sitting up from the lee’s hips.

“WAIT! I-I never said I- wait…” the poor puppy layed there, with his mouth half oppened, trying to form a response.

“What’s up? You can’t even admit that you want this? Well, we’re gonna leave, unless you beg.” the dancer shrugged, signaling everyone to let go of their victim.

“Let’s just give him a minute, he might need some time to provide us with a proper response in this position.” the maknae took pitty on the taller.

“Close your damn mouth, unless you wanna choke on a fly!” the leader couldn’t hold back his fatherly instinct anymore, softly scolding Seungmin.

“I-I didn’t want you to stop…” Minnie uttered “And you can go as rough as you want…” the last sentence could barely be heard, but didn’t go past Minho’s amazing feline hearing. He, however, was gonna pretend his ears fell deaf to the request.

“Sorry? You’re gonna have to speak a little bit more clearly and loudly for us to hear you.” Lee Know teasingly said, smirking at the younger.

“Goddammit, just wreck me already! I’m getting tired of this!” Seungmin’s last bit of patience melted away with the shorter’s mocking words.

“Wow, you’re gonna have to be a little more poli-” “No! I don’t want to hear it! Pin me for once and get me good!” the tallest yelled, dragging Chan and Jeongin down to the floor next to himself.

The oldest and youngest looked at eachother with fear in their eyes and obeying without a single “but”. Minho on the other hand was not one bit intimidated “Make me, mister Kim.”

Lee Know’s challenging eyes met Seungmin’s. The puppy couldn’t handle the akward atmosphere. He just laid there, arms pinned and body completely vulnerable, yet no one was moving a single muscle.

“You’re getting on my nerves, Minho. Can you stop being a brat and do what I asked you to?” the pesky words left Seungmin’s mouth without much thought put into them. Oh, he was so going to regret that…

“Woah. I didn’t know someone could fit so much disrespect in such few words. Guys, he’s not making it out this one…” the rabbit sighed, shaking his head side to side, as he slowly positioned himself back on the lee’s hips.

“Oof, sorry Minnie-hyung. We’re gonna have to obey… Minho-hyung’s angry…” Innie said in empathy, not forgetting any honourifics in fear of being the next victim.

Soon enough, the tickle master dug into the vocalist’s sides “AHAHAHAHAHAHA PLEHEHEASE! NOHOHOHOHOHOHO!” If Seungmin had to be honest, the tickles weren’t even half as bad as the cold expression plastered on the merciles ler’s face.

Minnie wasn’t the only petrified for his life. Chan and Jeongin listened to the cat man like their life’s depended on it. That session, they saw how ruthless he could be…

The kangaroo was massaging deep circles into the puppie’s sensitive armpits as the ticklish boy thrashed and screamed, trying to pointlessly free his arms from the ler’s arms. The maknae was doing an amazing job on the singer’s lower body. The way he squeezed both the top and bottom of poor boys knees had Seungmin going feral.

“NOHOHOHOHOHOHO IHIHIHI CAHAHAHAHAN’T!” the tallest whined through the ocean of laughter “Well, maybe you should’ve thought about that before calling me a brat and refusing to use honourifics.” Minho commented with the exact same dry voice from before.

The dancer lifted his butt from the lee’s hips, positioning himself on Seungmin’s sides instead “W-whehehehre arehe you going with thihihs?” the puppy asked with fear in his eyes. The bunny knew how sensitive his hips were. If he wrecked them with the exact same distant and cold face, the second youngest would die on the spot!

“Wait, Minho, are you sure? I mean, we’re all aware of the insane ticklishness of Minnie’s v-line. Maybe go a little-” Chan atempted to keep the poor kid alive “No! None of that. Seungmin asked for the roughest tickles we have, and we’ll fufill his request. Won’t we, Innie?”

Jeongin agressively shook his head yes, the thought of reliving the wrecking that very morning only fueling his fear.

Not wasting any more time, Minho pressed his thumbs deep into the insanely sensitive spot “M-Minho, hyung, most attractive dancer, singer and cat charmer. Please. Anywhere but there!” Seungmin tried to beg, but he and everyone’s mother knew that he had gotten himself into this deep, dark hole and wasn’t gonna get out of it soon.

As expected, Lee Know just shrugged and proceeded to push those fingers into the ticklish flesh, massaging circles “H-HYUHUHUHNG PLEHHEHEHEHEHEASE! NOHOHOHOHOHO IHIHIHI’M BEHEHEHEGIHIHING!!” the cat lover didn’t even flinch while Chan and Innie watched in horror.

“I’m never messing around with Minho-hyung ever…” the maknae mumbled to himself, switching to vibrating his fingers into Minnie’s tensed thighs.

The kangaroo’s thoughts were similar to the fox’s. It was safe to say that the youngest and oldest members were not testing the tickle master’s patience any time soon.

While the other two lers were busy thinking of ways to avoid Minho for the next… 1000 years, the puppy was dying. Every time he brought his hips up or down it seemed to only help Minho more. Shaking side to side served no purpose either, in fact, it only made it more ticklish. The tears running down his cheeks seemed to be completely ignored as his whole body was helplessly vibrating from the unbearable feeling torturing his poor hips.

“Oook, I think we’re done here…” Chan stated, standing up from Seungmin’s armpits “Yeah, we’ve tortured him enough” the baby bread(daddy toast) agreed, following Chris’ action.

Minho didn’t seem to care one bit. It almost seemed as he had started tickling Minnie even harder. The oldest watched, hating the way his cheeks heated up and his head couldn’t help but whip to the opposite direction. Maybe he should fuck around and find out…

“HEHEHEHEHELP MEHEHEHE GAHAHAHAHAHA! CHAHAHANNIEHEHE PLEHEHEHEHEASE!” Seungmin pleaded, punching Minho’s back to no avail.

Jeongin bit his lip. He really wanted to save his friend, but didn’t want to risk being tortured again.

“Yolo I guess…” Innie murmured, launching himself toward the ler and dragging him off the poor puppie’s tired body “Oh, so that’s how you wanna do it. I thought you were on my side, traitor!” Lee Know smirked, trapping the youngest in his dangerous grasp.

“That’s enough, kids…” Chan interviened. He couldn’t handle witnessing any more wreckings today.

As the two lers left the room, Seungmin and Minho found themselves alone “Thanks, hyung. I-I really needed that.” the second youngest shyly mumbled, slowly standing up from the floor.

“Was it rough enough?” Minho asked with a mischevious smirk plastered on his face “No” Minnie breathed out, quickly running after Channie and Innie for protection once he realized that the tickler had heard his embarassing words.

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Ong I’m such a procrastinator😭 This fic has been sitting in drafts for a WHILE. lol sorry anon. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed. Can’t even promise ya’ll that I’ll update soon because I honestly won’t😔 Have a nice day/night❤️

#tickle #stray kids #sfw tickle community #kpop tickle #skz tickle #lee!seungmin #ler!jeongin #ler!chan #ler!minho

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dujour13 · 3 months

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OC Kiss Week - day 3

For my friend @the-raging-tempest and your poor, damaged, chaotic evil swan Zrise whom I love so much, unfortunately 💜

Obsessed with that poem you shared:

The knocking finally stops and Zrise’s stomach churns with a bitter mixture of gratitude and dread when he hears the door handle click. He shies away from the blade of light that slices through the gloom of his chamber. He feels like a cornered animal.

He’s locked himself away and hasn’t eaten in two days but the blood meal still buzzes savagely in his veins.

It’s Siavash because of course it’s Siavash. After what happened anyone else would have the sense to stay the fuck away.

Zrise coils. He wants to bullrush him and shove him violently and also to throw his arms around him, and the despair of knowing he’s too much of a coward to do the right thing is strangling.

Siavash shuts the door and whispers an arcane word that kindles a rosy flame in the wall lamp. The shadows retreat to the corners of the cold, stone-walled room. “Zrise? Talk to me.”

“Stay away from me,” he snarls, and yet he advances, fists balled. He’s a knot of hostile muscle.

There’s no sign of alarm in Siavash’s expression. He’s backed against the door and Zrise could break him in half but he only tilts his head, calmly assessing Zrise’s flashing fangs with nothing but gentle confusion.

You fool, Zrise thinks. Run. Call your guards. Cast one of your stupid rainbow spells on me. Just stop standing there looking at me.

But Siavash doesn’t move, so Zrise closes in. This rage sits differently in his chest, rising into what he fears might become a sob or a primal cry of loneliness. He knows what he looks like when he bares his teeth like this; Oria told him enough times. Only Oria thought it was sexy.

And Oria’s dead.

Siavash refuses to shrink back, not even an inch. He’s holding Zrise’s gaze and waiting for something, and Zrise isn’t sure what it is and he doesn’t want to have to hurt him and it’s taking every ounce of strength he has left to try to get him to run, godsdamn it.

Close enough to feel his breath, Zrise’s gaze shrinks away from his unbearable tenderness and lands on his neck, hypnotized by the pulse under the warm skin. Blood that probably tastes like a fucking piña colada. He’s salivating but the thought of piercing that skin makes him want to gag and he reaches up and brushes his fingers over the precious pulse as if to ward off the danger he himself poses to it. The gesture is awkward.

Far too confidently Siavash says, “It’s going to be all right.”

“Sometimes it isn’t. Life isn’t all butterflies and sunshine.”

“I know, Zrise.”

He’s not talking about himself, Zrise realizes. It’s as if he can see right through it all to the wounds underneath—to the ice-cold suffocating pain that has never left his lungs. “Then why don’t you fucking back off? Don’t you know poison when you see it?”

“I’m not scared of you.”

He ought to say you should be but he can’t do that any more than he can bite into that sweet, exposed throat. He hates himself.

The way Siavash holds his gaze is a challenge, one Zrise doesn’t think he’s up to. In despair he surrenders to his own powerlessness, and when at last his lips part, it is not to bite.

It is as if those impossibly warm lips are breathing life into him again—or as if he is stealing the life from them, but he can’t tear himself away. He holds on like a drowning man.

You see how worthless and weak I am. How miserably I failed to do the right thing. You’re going to get hurt.

Stop me.

#ockiss24 #my writing #friends' ocs #zrise #siavash #pwotr pals

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herearedragons · 2 months

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Homecoming

(3,876 words; Dorian/m!Lavellan; angst, post-Trespasser)

written for a Florence + The Machine prompt from @greypetrel : “Can you protect me from what I want? The lover who let me in, who left me so lost?”

read on AO3

On a summer night, the Pavus estate stands empty.

Not empty of visitors or of the presence of its owner - empty of everyone. There are no guards at the gates or in the garden; no cooks in the kitchen; no servants in the hallways. Its rooms are cold and unlit, illuminated only by moonlight breaking through the large windows and painting bright geometric shapes over surfaces and decorations.

In the study upstairs, one of those shapes falls directly over an armchair with a small wooden table by its side. On the table, a freshly opened bottle of wine; in the chair, the last remaining resident of the estate raises a glass to his lips, appreciating the fine vintage.

A staff rests balanced on his knees. An artisan dwarven clock with twelve handles ticks away on the wall beside him.

Magister Dorian Pavus drinks his wine, and waits for the man who is supposed to come kill him.

“All staff have been escorted off the premises, Magister.”

“Marvelous; thank you, Valeria.”

The captain of his guards regards him with a look that is familiar: respect, alertness - and the slightest hint of suspicion. She is saying, without speaking a single word aloud: you are behaving unusually, and I would like to know whether my job of keeping you alive is about to get harder.

“What are our orders?” she asks.

Unfortunately, she will not like the answer Dorian has for her.

“Go home,” he says. “Forget everything you’ve seen and heard here today.”

If she has an immediate reaction to his words, it doesn’t register on her face. Wait, no - it does, just very subtly; a slight tilt of her head to the side, a twitch of her brow.

She’s saying: excuse me?

“Magister, I beg your pardon, but I’ve been led to understand that someone will attempt to assassinate you tonight.”

Valeria is highly professional. A slight emphasis on the word “assassinate” is all she allows herself as an attempt to communicate extreme incredulity to her employer.

“Exactly - and I want you to be as far away as possible when it happens.” He sees the resistance brewing beneath her composed exterior and adds, quickly, before she has a chance to speak again: “This is an order.”

The resolve drains from her at once; an expression of defiance becomes one of defeat. She will not argue; this is above her station.

“Yes, Magister.”

Her tone, though subdued, is unbearably miserable; he can’t possibly end the conversation on this note.

“Oh, don’t look so grim; you don’t have to shop for a new employer quite yet,” Dorian says. “I can assure you that I have every intention to survive the night - and, when I do, I’d like to have your services still available to me. That last part will be tricky if you are dead; reanimated guards have fallen out of fashion, I’m told.”

Confusion, writ large across her face; the veneer of professionalism broken.

“This is about protecting me ?”

“This is about protecting all of you, if I can help it. You are very skilled, and I would trust you with my life - I do , in fact, trust you with my life, regularly - against any threat but this one. If you are here when he comes, you’ll be in his way, and you will die.”

Her brow furrows. He’s gotten through to her; there was enough gravity in his words to make her realize that his decision to send her away isn’t a foolish whim.

“And yet you will survive… him?”

“I certainly plan to. Now - ” Dorian raises an eyebrow - “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

Valeria nods shortly and hastily collects herself; their little moment of eye-to-eye sincerity has passed.

“Of course.” She hesitates. “...Have a good evening, Magister.”

The setting sun shines in bright oranges and reds on the back of her armor as she walks away.

In the moonlit garden of the estate, there are shadows.

Their presence is subtle and easily overlooked. Their footsteps make no sound; their clothes blend perfectly with the dark greens and grays of the night, hiding them behind pillars and in foliage, in solid blocks of shadow and in the mottled patterns of bright moonlight filtering through leaves.

There are twenty-seven of them, in total. Fifteen serve the Divine, and have traveled to Minrathous in secret from various corners of Thedas. The remaining twelve are Dalish, who have made the long, long trek from Wycome to one of the most dangerous places for their kind - just to be here tonight.

Some of them are on the outer side of the fence. None of them are inside the building. They are scattered across the perimeter, and, when the intruder comes, they will make no attempt to stop him.

They are not a wall keeping him out; they are the iron teeth of the bear trap, waiting to close on him once he has taken the bait.

The morning sun reflects off the crystal embedded in his transmitter amulet, each facet polished to perfection. He’d be able to spot his reflection in one of those quite easily, had he tried.

He doesn’t.

“Tonight, then,” Dorian says. “Are you sure?”

A small blue glow ignites inside of the crystal for a fraction of a moment, indicating that his message has been sent properly. Some seconds pass as the other party speaks their response, and then the amulet vibrates with the familiar voice of the Inquisition’s former spymaster - or, as she is more widely known these days, Divine Victoria.

As always, the sound of her speech comes with a pinprick of irritation in his chest. This is not what this amulet is for, and no, he has not gotten over that gripe after four years of it being used in this way.

Still, it would be foolish not to use it at all. The ability to instantly communicate between Minrathous and Val Royeaux has granted them an immense advantage in their hunt.

“As usual, we don’t have much evidence when it comes to his intentions - but what we do have shows that it is likely.”

Dorian allows himself a moment to process her words, taking his thumb off the back of the amulet so that it would not record and send the sound of him taking a deep breath and slowly releasing it, with only the slightest shudder at the end.

He always knew that this was a possibility; hoped for it, even, on some of the worst (and best) days.

He tries to parse his own feelings. Fear is certainly present, his self-preservation instinct kicking in (good - it’s still working). There is also anxiety - different from fear; the vague tremble of uncertainty rather than a call to action - and something like… excitement.

Hope, even?

No. Not hope. He’s made some good progress from the point of denying himself hope for anything at all, but hoping for the best in this particular scenario feels too daunting.

Excitement, however, is something he can definitely work with. He did always love a challenge.

The amulet vibrates in his palm again.

“Is everything alright?”

He puts his thumb back on the warm copper.

“Never mind the pause; I’m still here. Now, what are our plans for tonight?”

The Magister finishes his glass of wine and sets it aside. He looks at the bottle for a moment too long, but does not reach for it.

This was his first and last glass for tonight. It was certainly good, even though he could barely taste it after the first sip; his mind is elsewhere, try as he might to anchor himself in the present.

For a moment, he thinks that he hears footsteps echoing downstairs, but he dismisses the thought. The sentries will not enter the building - and it couldn’t have been him , either.

His hand, idle without the glass, moves to rest on the grip of his staff.

The Magister knows: when he shows up, no one will hear any footsteps.

The first of the Dalish arrive soon after Valeria leaves.

Two figures at his front gate; two elven women with scarves on their heads, their faces bare, carrying large baskets. Servants; no one would look twice.

Through the study window, Dorian sees the taller of the two set her basket down and stretch; as she does, her hands form the signal gesture that was described to him.

He activates the spell inscribed into the wrought iron, and the gates swing open of their own accord, letting the two women inside.

He comes downstairs just as the front door opens. The first thing to cross the threshold is is one the baskets, which look even more enormous up close; the women haul them in and set them down unceremoniously, the shorter of the two slamming the door shut behind her.

Both of them acknowledge him with a brief glance before beginning to furiously wipe their faces with their scarves, removing the thick layer of makeup that was necessary to hide their vallaslin.

“Would you like some water?” he asks.

The taller - and older - woman takes the scarf away from her face, meeting his eyes in earnest for the first time. Hers are brown and warm, just as he remembers; her hair, also a painfully familiar brown, has more grey streaks than it did the last time he’d seen her.

Four years and six months ago.

His last visit to Wycome before he left for Minrathous; the last time he has seen her son.

“Would you like some water” is not, by any means, an adequate greeting for the situation they’re in, but - even after years of imagining their next conversation - he doesn’t have anything better.

To his own surprise, Dorian realizes that a significant amount of his fear has nothing to do with the impending attempt on his life, and everything to do with meeting her again.

Adria Lavellan smiles - a small, humorous smile; just a quirk of her lips and a slight rise of her eyebrows - and nods.

“Yes, thank you. Both to drink and to wash up.”

Nothing about her tone or demeanor is hostile. She’s friendly, and the attitude she projects suggests that she is genuinely glad to see him again.

Something in his chest tightens and tightens until it hurts. He tries to say something in response, but finds his mind horrifyingly blank, and his tongue heavy.

He silently nods and walks away.

More elves arrive. Most of them come in pairs; some come in a group of three, or alone. All in the guise of servants.

Many of them carry baskets. Inside - armor, weapons and traps.

The sun disappears below the horizon, the sky painted twilight purple in its absence.

When he speaks to Adria again, she has donned a set of ironbark armor - her husband’s finest work, no doubt - and is in the process of stringing a longbow.

It’s strange to see her like this. Every time Dorian has met her in the past, she wore dresses and aprons and seemed to prefer the role of hearthkeeper; here, she is in charge of a party of eleven, armed to the teeth.

He starts by complimenting her armor. She thanks him with the same small smile; still unbelievably non-hostile. She compliments his house in turn.

Be it any other person, Dorian would have interpreted her attitude as cleverly disguised contempt - but this is Adria Lavellan ; he knows her, and he knows the son she raised, and she would not lie to him.

He wants to ask her a question.

How -

No, why -

Does she -

“I’m sorry that I couldn’t write to you,” Adria says all of a sudden. “If the Inquisition was still around, they could have gotten my letter to Minrathous - but without them, I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

She’s throwing him a lifeline, giving him an easy topic for conversation - and, shamefully, he elects to take it.

There is, at least, a question he can ask here.

“…Why would you want to write to me?“

The words come out without his usual flair. Flat. Vulnerable.

Thank the Maker that no one else seems to be listening, for the moment.

She regards him kindly with her warm, brown eyes.

“I lost my parents and my first husband almost at the same time. I remember what it feels like; I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. I’m glad that you held up well.”

“…Well. Yes.” Dorian clears his throat. “I try. I - “

This is the perfect place to say something clever, perhaps some witty remark about his father’s demise, but the words do not come. This woman’s presence is equal parts comforting and terrifying to him, and it causes his brain to stop working.

He must do something about this. Now . He absolutely cannot remain a bumbling fool around - around his - around Neilar’s mother.

Dorian takes a deep breath.

“Why are you so calm?” he asks. “Why - “ his voice quivers - “Why are you not furious with me?”

A slight frown appears on her face as she parses his words.

“Well,” she says after a moment’s pause, “Those are two questions, and I’ll answer both. Why am I so calm: I’m not. I’m worried, and scared, and angry, and many other things - but those feelings are for me, not for the world. Sharing them with the world right now won’t help me or my children. And for the second question, I’m not aware of anything I should be furious about.” She tilts her head to the side slightly and perks up her left ear, which is closest to him. “ Have you done something I should be angry about?”

…Yes? No? He has spent countless sleepless nights trying to answer this exact question, and he still has no idea.

Is he to blame for what happened? Should he have postponed his return to Tevinter? Should he have been more thorough with his questions when he spoke to her son through the amulet that is now being held by the Divine?

Should he have dragged him away from that bloody Well by force before he could ever drink?

“I don’t know,” Dorian says.

Adria’s gaze lingers on him for a moment, inspecting him.

Judging?

Then, she nods and turns her attention back to the bow.

“I don’t blame you for what happened,” she says. “Not any more than I blame him. Everything you two did, you did out of love, and it was right; now we must deal with the consequences. I don’t like those consequences, but I don’t think that you could have chosen to do anything differently. If you could, you would have been different people.”

It’s not forgiveness or absolution, but it is something much more precious: acceptance.

A creature walks through an empty hall.

Despite the dry summer night, beads of condensation shimmer on the edges of its form. Its movements make no sound, save for a faint dripping noise.

The creature has taken nineteen lives so far. Thirteen throats slit open, bodies found in pools of their own blood; three of them Dalish Keepers, one a First. One a Tevene Magister.

Six more bodies found drowned or strangled, floating face-down in a body of water or inexplicably buried in undisturbed soil. All six served what remained of the Inquisition; all six died on duty.

Thirteen assassinations. Six casualties.

In the Magister’s study, the temperature begins to drop.

He was right - there are no footsteps. In fact, there is nothing at all; not even an ominous whisper on the wind, a creaking door or the howling of wolves in the night to herald the intruder’s arrival.

The doorway is empty. Then, Dorian blinks, and it’s not empty anymore.

His only exit out of the study that isn’t a window is blocked by a wraith with glowing eyes the color of veilfire. The dark figure stands unmoving just past the threshold, every detail of it obscured by shadow.

Tonight is the night.

His entire body tenses as fight-or-flight kicks in; he forces himself to relax again, easing back into the chair. He remembers the investigations of previous murders; the target was never struck on sight. There will be a trigger, something that will set off the assault.

Outside, twenty-seven fighters are getting into position.

“You came, then,” Dorian says. His voice does not betray him, thank the Maker; it manages to produce the exact amount of sarcastic aloofness he had hoped for. “And all I needed to do was to get rid of my guards and staff and sit alone in the dark for a couple of hours. Who knew it was that easy?”

The figure steps forward, over the threshold and into the rectangle of moonlight streaming in from behind Dorian’s back. At once, it ceases to be a shadow and becomes a material presence.

A revenant.

His face is pale in the moonlight, the green vallaslin of Ghilan’nain appearing dark grey. Scratches and dirt on every visible part of his skin; grown-out, unkempt hair with leaves and twigs caught in it. Eyes glassy, pupils glowing veilfire green.

When he speaks, his voice is low and rasping, barely familiar - but familiar nonetheless.

A single word.

“Vhenan.”

Fuck. He can’t do this. This is too much - this is wrong - he can’t -

No. It’s too late now. Either he sees this through, or he dies.

“Amatus,” Dorian states dryly. “Long time no see. Next time you decide to become possessed and disappear forever, maybe leave a note? ‘Dear Dorian, just letting you know that I’ll be away for a while. The ancient spirits I let into my brain have finally claimed my soul and I’m going to spend four and a half years murdering people on their behalf. You were right about everything and I should have listened to you. Love, Neilar.’ ”

It feels good, at least. Sure, he’s just rambling to buy a few more minutes for the people outside - but, while he’s at it, he might as well get some things off his chest.

Now that he’s been forced to work through the fear and the guilt at an incredibly fast pace, all that’s left is anger; quite a hefty amount of it, with the name of this glassy-eyed idiot written on it in giant glowing letters.

“Or how about using the amulet? You know - the magical marvel I invented specifically for the purpose of talking to you? It didn’t cross your mind to maybe mention all the sleepwalking and speaking in tongues that was happening? No! It’s all I’m alright, Dorian , and things are fine, Dorian , and I have to spend a month wondering if the amulet is broken before Leliana calls to tell me that you’re gone - ”

A sharp edge against his throat, clutched in ironbark fingers. Appearing without the warning of sound or motion, like Neilar himself.

The others should be about ready by now, shouldn’t they?

Neilar speaks. Ancient elven.

Dorian understands every word; he’s been doing his homework on everything elven and ancient ever since the disappearance.

“The will of Mythal demands your demise.”

The blade presses deeper - fuck - no, not deep enough to end it.

It takes all of his willpower not to start casting. Not yet. This isn’t just about saving his own hide; this is about capturing him for good.

The signal. Any second now. Surely -

“...Hold on, just a second - he’s not peeking, right?” Dagna asks, adjusting buckles and leather straps.

“I can’t - he’s covering my eyes!” Neilar protests.

His eyelashes tickle the inside of Dorian’s palms, as if to prove the point.

“Well, good - keep covering them. It’s all wonky and misaligned and you’re not allowed to see it until it sits right.”

Dorian can relate to her fretting. This particular project was, in many ways, a work of passion, and the necessity to finish it as soon as possible only added to the frantic energy of everyone involved. His own part was relatively small; he chimed in at the design stage and provided some arcane support at the tail end of the process, drawing on his necromantic knowledge of animating limbs.

It looks good, though. It should also work well; they’d checked everything a thousand times over.

Dagna finishes the adjustments and leans back to inspect her work from afar. Satisfied, she nods:

“Alright, let him see it.”

He takes his hands away from Neilar’s eyes and steps aside, making sure that he can see Neilar’s expression as he looks at his new prosthetic.

The look in his eyes is blank, at first, processing what he’s looking at. Then - surprise, curiosity; he leans closer to the artificial arm, inspecting it for details.

“Try holding it up to your face instead,” Dagna suggests.

“But how do I - ”

“Don’t think about it too much! Just do it.”

The arm moves, rising up to eye level and turning, allowing Neilar to look at it from different angles.

Silverite-inlaid ironbark, the metallic parts lovingly engraved with images of vines and halla.

Dorian can see the exact moment when Neilar finds the writing hidden among the designs. His lips move silently as he reads the text.

The same quote in elven, dwarven and Tevene, snaking along the vines:

“Wounded and blinded, I will find my way home.”

A line adapted from the tale of Ghilan’nain, changed ever so slightly to make it into an oath; the same oath Neilar had taken, years ago, upon completing the trial to earn him a place among the clan’s scouts.

Despite the recent revelations from Solas, it seemed appropriate. Dorian doesn’t remember who was the first to float the idea for adding text, but the approving look he received from Taren - Neilar’s father - upon suggesting that particular quote has been firmly burned into his memory.

And yet… This is all fine and good, but the most important question is -

“It’s… perfect.” Neilar sounds almost puzzled, as if liking their gift is a surprise to him. “I didn’t know what it would look like, but now - I can’t imagine it looking any other way.”

Dorian feels something inside of him deflate with relief. Neilar keeps inspecting the prosthetic, turning it this way and that, then starts playing with it, testing how far the fingers can bend and how quickly he can shift from one gesture to another.

It’s not as good as the real thing, it’s a little slower; Dorian knows that for a fact.

Still, right now Neilar doesn’t seem to mind; after messing with the hand some more, he shifts his attention to Dagna and pulls her into a hug, thanking her. Then, it’s Dorian’s turn.

The hug is tight enough to make his ribs hurt.

For the first time in weeks, it feels as if everything will be alright, after all.

A sharp whistle cuts through the silence.

Neilar freezes, both ears perked up. Distracted.

At the sound of the signal, relief floods Dorian's system. He feels the corners of his mouth twist into a smile of their own accord.

“I still love you, for the record,” he says, “But letting you slit my throat is a little too much, don’t you think?”

With a snap of his fingers, the lightning glyph he’d drawn on the floor of the study hours ago detonates.

#dragon age #dragon age inqusition #dorian pavus #dorian x inquisitor #pavellan #inquisitor lavellan #dragon age fanfic #dragon age fanfiction #mild swearing #oc: neilar lavellan #herearedragons writing #IT'S DONE #uh #tw: death mention #tw: grief #tw: blood mention

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bunny-rambles · 2 years

Text

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“Handle with care.”

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characters; Rubedo (Subject 2, also known as Dorian but I refer to him as Ruby), gn reader

cw/tw; mentions of injuries, very fluffy, comfort, there’s a kitten, mutual pining, let me know if I missed anything

word count; 3.4k

notes; wow this is the longest thing I’ve ever written, but it’s been a while and this should’ve really been updated a lot longer ago so I hope this makes up for it <33 It’s tooth-rotting fluff because he deserves it and I love him. I will most likely make a part 3 to this so let me know if you want to be tagged in the next work.

Part one here; “Made with love.”

Please reblog if you like this!!

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It’s raining.

Why was it always raining, whenever you weren’t here?

A crash of thunder made the blonde pause in his pacing around the room, his eyes shifting to look towards the window at the miserable display of weather. You were supposed to be back by now, what was the hold up? Why weren’t you back? Were you in danger? The thought made his chest tighten with an unfamiliar, uncomfortable emotion. He wasn’t quite sure what it was called, even though you had already tried to explain it to him. Emotions were difficult to grasp, but not impossible to understand. Or feel, unfortunately. Exploring new ways to feel the world around you was an exhausting task, especially when those emotions weren’t exactly positive.

He remembers the first time he experienced relief while he was with you. When he finally opened up about who he was, or what he was, to be exact. Instead of the reaction he was expecting, instead of the bitter sting of rejection he had grown so used to feeling, he was accepted. For once in his sordid life, he was welcomed with open arms. Not because he was Albedo, not because he was a successful experiment, but just because he was him. Ruby- your precious gem. Even though the feeling of having that heavy weight being lifted off of his shoulders was euphoric, the vast amount of new sensations was too much for him to handle. He remembered how his throat constricted with each desperate gasp of air, how his eyes filled with so much water his vision began to blur, how it felt like he was drowning in oxygen. But he also remembers the comforting feeling of your arms wrapped around his trembling body, and the new-found warmth blooming in his chest that replaced the unbearable tension. How he wishes he could feel that now.

The doors lock starts to click and he swears he’s never moved faster in his life.

“Sorry I’m l-“ You were cut off by a hand ungracefully pulling you into the house, and straight into his chest.

“You’re not hurt?” He asks hastily, hands beginning to roam around your body as he pulls away to get a proper look at you. You shake your head, but he’s not convinced. Especially since one of your hands seems to be obscured from his view. You’re drenched - shivering, cold to the touch, but other than that…

“Good. You’re not injured.”

“Did I make you worry?” You asked quietly, eyes trained on his face. Ever the enigma, you couldn’t tell what he was feeling, not until he told you directly. It was silent for a moment before he nodded his head hesitantly.

“I think so.” He confirms, but his eyes aren’t on you anymore. Instead, he’s focused on the squirming movements that were coming from inside of your thick coat. He flinched when he heard a high pitched cry, his gaze immediately flitting back up to you.

“I thought you said you were fine.”

“I am, but…” He heard it again, this time louder, and it definitely wasn’t coming from you.

“Ruby… Don’t freak out.”

“Freak out?” He questioned, raising an eyebrow. Ah right, you hadn’t taught him that phrase yet.

“Um… Don’t panic. Better?” He nodded, and with that you moved your coat off your hand slowly. In your palm was a small, squirming lump of soaked fur. It cried out once more, head raising up to look around its surroundings.

“What is this… Creature?”

“It’s a kitten. I found it on the way home, that’s why I was late.” The so-called ‘kitten’ squeaked, alerting him of its presence. It was tiny, trembling from head to toe, how it even survived was a miracle itself. Stiffly, he reached his hand out to take it from your own, holding its minuscule body in his grasp. He turned it around, looking at it from every angle as it continued to mewl.

“I thought we could… Keep it here.”

“Why?”

“Because it doesn’t have a home, and it’s cold outside… And it reminded me of you.”

His head raised to look at you for a moment, shock painted on his pale face for just a second before he looked back down at the small animal. “It’s your home… It’s your choice.”

Surprised, you stepped forward towards the pair. “Really? You don’t mind?”

Your friend shook his head slowly, taking another step closer to you so there wasn’t much space between the two of you. “It would be cruel to dispose of it, would it not?”

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face when you heard those words. How much he had grown, to admit that action was cruel, when just a month ago when you had met him, he would’ve thought the complete opposite. He didn’t seem to notice you grinning from ear to ear at him, his glacial eyes glued to the squirming heap in his hand. He seemed to be a little lost in thought, or lost on what to do.

“It’s shivering.” He mumbled after a moment, walking away from you and grabbing a nearby towel, wrapping it around its tiny body. You knew he was trying to help, but the poor thing looked like it was drowning in the fabric, squealing as Ruby tried to dry it with the thick cloth.

“Wait, wait, wait.” Your hands slid on top of his to try to guide his movements. “Gentle…”

His eyes followed your hands, his own being manipulated entirely by your tender movements - all he was doing now was holding the animal as it was pampered and dried by you. Wordlessly, he placed the kitten in your hands carefully so you didn’t drop it and disappeared out of the room. You were a little confused, wondering if maybe he was frustrated with the new arrival or the task of keeping it warm, but your questions were answered when you saw another towel in his hands. He stepped behind you while you were busy, making you raise an eyebrow. “What are you-“ You were cut off by having your face covered with the cloth before it was swiftly moved away.

“You’re wet too.” He answered simply, his hands massaging your head with the towel and drying the top of your head. It was subtle, but you could feel that his movements were a lot more gentle with you, almost mimicking what you were doing to the wet lump of fur in your hand. It was soothing, you almost toppled into him from the expert way he was making the tension seep out of your body - you nearly did, had it not been for the hand on the back of your shoulder steadying you when he realised you were losing your balance.

You weren’t sure how long you had been there when he started moving to the ends of your hair instead, making sure the droplets of water didn’t drip down from the tips and then stopping his drying altogether. “Thank you…” You breathed out, offering a tired smile to your friend who was now by your side. He merely nodded, eyes now back on the mewling baby. He held his hand out carefully, silently offering to take it from your grasp. “Are you sure? It’s already dry and I-“

“You need to change out of your clothes or you’ll get sick. I also suggest a warm shower. ” He did have a point, and you had been stuck in them for a while now. But what if he wasn’t sure what to do while you were gone? What if it was injured or it overwhelmed him if it started squealing again?

“I’ll be fine, you don’t have to worry.” Ah, it seemed like you weren’t exactly a blank canvas like him when it came to trying to conceal your emotions. As he had put it once, you were like an open book, but a book he still had interest in, with each chapter still drawing him in no matter how many times he has read the same passage.

“…Please come get me if you need me.” Finally, you relented, and he offered you a nod in reply as you gave him the kitten. After leaning forward and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek as a thank you, you retreated out of the room and straight into the bathroom to change.

If only you had stuck around to see how he stood there with a dumbfounded expression, frozen in place as his artificial blood rushes to his cheeks. He raised one hand slowly, tracing where your lips had been, the contact still burning his skin. That feeling again - the fluttering in his stomach, the speeding of his heart, the tingling in his fingertips. What was this emotion again? One too complicated to fixate on, so he simply dismissed it after a few moments, waiting until he had calmed down to make his next move.

“What do I do with you then?” He mumbled to himself, looking down at the (now) quiet creature, staring back at him with wide, silent eyes. When his head tilted slightly, the kitten mimicked the motion, blinking slowly up at him. Curious, he again tilted his head, this time to the other side. Again, it followed suit. He shook his head, eyes moving away from the tiny fur ball and around the room. After subconsciously worrying himself sick about you, he was feeling drained.

All he wanted to do was cuddle up to you, something you had done once when he couldn’t sleep and now it had become a part of your daily routine. But unfortunately, you weren’t here at the moment, and the blanket he had wrapped around himself once he sat himself down on the couch felt too big for just one person. He released a breath he didn’t realise he was holding, his shoulders sagging as he melted into the comforting warmth of the fabric. He would’ve much preferred you being here with him, with your head resting against his torso, as his hands carded through your hair. Or his favourite, when his ear was pressed up against your chest so he could listen to the thumping of your heart. He couldn’t quite explain it, the sound was the one thing that gave him the utmost comfort - perhaps it was because it was the most damning proof that you actually existed, that he wasn’t just delusional from being deprived of affection and care. He wasn’t on that mountain, alone. He was with you, and really that was all that mattered to him, even if he didn’t show it very often.

He had almost forgotten about the kitten at this point, until it started crawling its way up his chest, nudging at his cheek to snap him out of his thoughts. He hummed questioningly, raising his head from where it had rested on his palm, staring down at the purring little thing. Does that mean it was happy? You liked it when he ran his fingers through your hair, especially after a long, stressful day. Maybe if he… Reaching out his hand, he carefully ran his fingertips over the top of the feline’s head, raising an eyebrow when his hand was bumped against in response. The strange noise coming from such a small body was only growing louder, and he hoped that it really did mean it was happy. Well, he wasn’t getting scratched up or bit, so it was safe to assume he was correct. When the little one curled up on top of his thighs- thigh, actually, as it could barely fit on both - a strange feeling began to settle in his chest. A permanent weight felt like it had been lifted, and he could finally feel the fluttering in his torso. You had once described this phenomenon as ‘butterflies’. Ah, yes, he summarises. He was happy.

But now he was also feeling a new sensation, a familiar one at that. He could feel his droopy eyes begin to slide shut on their own, and the need to sleep overtook his senses. Still, he didn’t want to disturb the newest member of the family by lying down. With the lightest touch, (you had mentioned it once, you described it as ‘featherlike’ when he ran his fingers traced intricate patterns on your back) he carefully lifted it off of his lap while he laid himself down, and set the small lump on his stomach. He released a breath when he didn’t feel it stir. And now, finally, his eyes could close and he could just… Sleep.

“Ruby! Are you hungry?” You called out from your bedroom after you finally changed into some comfortable clothes, feeling refreshed after a much needed shower. When you heard no response, you weren’t exactly surprised - he wasn’t really one to shout. Instead, he waited for you to come to him, face to face so he didn’t need to raise his voice. He was quiet in general, silent almost. Sometimes you forgot he was even here, until he curiously poked his head out of his room if he heard you were busy and asked if you needed any help.

He was getting better, sometimes he even initiated conversations. ‘How was your day?’ ‘Would you like me to start dinner?’ And then your personal (and his) favourite, ‘Would you like a hug?’. For someone he didn’t understand emotions, he was an expert at giving comfort when it was really needed. The way he would take you into his arms, how he would say such sweet phrases to you that would make you melt against his warmth, how he would hold you for as long as you needed him to - you would happily label him a professional at it. After a while, you sadly came to the realisation that perhaps he was giving you what he himself craved back when he was alone on that desolate mountain. You were quick in returning the favour whenever you felt like he needed it, which seemed to be quite often. You didn’t have a clue how much it meant to him, how he felt like he didn’t deserve it so he didn’t ask often, but you knew. You knew.

With a tired hum, you stepped out of your room and made your way to the living room, expecting to see the blonde having a staring competition with the kitten. He does that a lot. And when he stares, you know he was confused, his thoughts so loud you swore you could almost hear them. And then he would act on whatever answer he thought was best. Even though he was smart, most of the time he would get it wrong. You couldn’t help but find it cute when his entire body deflated and a pout began to form on his lips. All it took was some encouraging words from you and a demonstration on what to actually do and he was fine again. There were other times, however, when he would cower away from you if you reached out to touch, repeatedly calling himself a failure for not being able to do such simple tasks. It was a little more difficult to get him to calm down if he got worked up into that state, but thankfully, it didn’t happen nearly as often as it used to.

Instead, you walked in on something… Rather unexpected. Ruby, so still you could almost mistake him for a porcelain doll, and the small feline you had rescued, fast asleep together on the couch. You almost didn’t want to move in fear of disturbing them, together in their own little world of dreams. But you could see the both of them beginning to shiver, and suddenly you remembered there was a storm raging outside. Trying your best not to disturb the sleeping beauties, you carefully grabbed the nearest blanket and draped it over both of them, making sure the young creature's head wasn’t covered so it could breathe. You froze when you heard a quiet groan, but relaxed when your friend hadn’t seemed to wake up, only shifting to be more comfortable.

“Sleep well…” A whispered, hush voice whispered in his ear before he felt the gentle press of lips against his cold cheek.

“Are we not keeping it?” The blonde questioned, looking to where the kitten resided on his shoulder. After you woke him up the next day and fed him breakfast (Pancakes, one of his favourites), you brought up that you weren’t sure where to start looking for a home for the little one. All you earned was a confused look - from the both of them - and that question.

“Well…” You began, frowning as you thought. You weren’t exactly equipped to have a cat, you didn't have any food or toys, and neither of you knew the first thing about taking care of one. You thought it was the smarter choice to give it to someone who did know those things. You weren’t expecting them to get so attached… “I don’t know… Are we really capable of looking after a pet?”

It was silent for a moment, and you thought maybe you had gotten through to him, until he spoke up. “I can learn.” His voice was quiet, and he was avoiding your eyes now. He never asked for anything he wanted , not even when you asked what he wanted to eat - you had to learn his favourites just from his reactions alone. This was the closest he had come to expressing that he finally wanted something. And who were to deny such an innocent request?

You let out a heavy sigh, making your way towards the pair and running your fingers through the animal's fur gently. “Would you be happier if I let it stay with us?” He nodded his head slowly, still not meeting your gaze. “Then… I see no harm in keeping it. It is adorable, after all.” You giggled, smiling brightly when his head raised to meet your face. He nodded again, but you could tell from the way his eyes lit up that he was incredibly happy. “So… What do you want to call it?”

“I don’t… I’ve never named anything.” He shrugged. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Well, what things are important to you?”

“… You.” He mumbled quietly, and your ears burned from such a sweet, honest answer. You coughed quietly, hiding your surprise before snapping yourself out of it.

“Ah- Yes- right- you’re important to me too…” You rushed, laughing nervously before clearing your throat once more. “Apart from me, what things do you like…? Your favourite things? Start from there.” Again, there was another silence, this time even longer. And for once you could see the frustration forming on his face as he tried to think. He was lost. “Hm… I named you after a gem. So what’s your favourite colour?” Perhaps this would’ve been an easier question.

“I like blue…”

“Perfect! How about Sapphire then?” You suggested with a grin, watching as he thought for a moment.

“Sapphire…” He spoke in his smooth voice, closing his eyes as he let the sound of the name linger in the air. “I… Like it.” He confirmed, looking back up at you.

“Ruby and Sapphire… It sounds like I’m collecting precious things, it suits you both very well!”

“I’m precious?” He asked quietly, looking utterly (and adorably) confused. Sweet thing.

“Of course you are. And you always will be, to me.” You responded earnestly, resting a hand on top of his cheek, your thumb caressing the soft skin underneath. Another silence, as he stared in your eyes in awe and bewilderment. He could feel that fluttery feeling again… and heat rising to his cheeks. Was this normal? You caught yourself before you could lean forward to seal the space between you, pulling away abruptly with a nervous smile. “Ah… Well… I’ll go out now to look for the things we need.”

“Can I…?” He asked quietly, reaching for one of your hands. “Excuse me… Can we come with you?” No way was he going to leave his new friend in the house alone. The smile that spread across your face was infectious, since he could feel the edges of his lips beginning to curl up.

“Yes, you can.” You weren’t letting go of either of these precious gems any time soon.

#rubedo x reader #albedo x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #imposter albedo #subject 2 #subject 2 x reader #subject 2 x yn #genshin x gn reader #genshin x you #Rubedo #susbedo #primordial albedo #genshin x yn #rubedo x you #Genshin fluff #Genshin angst #subject two x reader #imposter albedo x reader

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irondad-defensesquad · 2 months

Text

If you're going to shoot somebody, shoot me!

Also posted on AO3!

TRIGGER WARNINGS - near death, past character death, major character injury, and implied suicidal thoughts.

DO NOT SHIP PETER AND TONY. P/ROSHIP DNI.

“... You’re going to be okay. You’re going to be okay, kid. You’re going to be okay…”

It sounds like a mantra. A broken, tearful mantra.

Two bigger, calloused hands are holding his. They’re not holding too tightly, but they’re afraid to let go or let Peter know how badly they tremble.

Peter’s stomach hurts. It’s not unbearable but he’s aware there’s a bandage there.

The room isn’t bright but not completely dark, either. There’s only a soft lamp illuminating the room. Peter at first believes he’s in his room, but it looks more like the medical facility of the tower. It’s not entirely a hospital room, as it has big windows and the walls aren’t white, so it’s less disturbing.

If not for the ongoing mantra, everything is silent.

Grunting, Peter squeezes the hands watching over him.

“... kid?” The other voice breaks out of its trance.

The teen turns to the side.

“Hey, Mr. Stark…” Peter takes a while to analyze his mentor’s face. Once he does, he frowns. “Are you okay?”

Tony looks awful. His eyes are bloodshot and haunted. He looks at Peter like he’s a ghost, and he can’t believe the boy is talking to him. Now that Peter thinks of it… what happened? What brought them here? Why is Tony so devastated? This isn’t the first time Peter got hurt on patrol, even if it always freaks Tony out.

The older man sighs, trying hard not to cry more, looking away from Peter but the lamp in the room only highlights the unshed tears.

“... I should be asking you that.”

His voice is painfully quiet.

“This guy came out of nowhere with a gun… I was obviously the target. But when I heard the shot, you were bleeding on the floor. And that bastard ran away,” Tony narrates, growling, wishing he could kill the person who shot Peter. In the end, he’s too miserable for that. "And we were just hanging out. You didn't have the suit." Tony's voice breaks at the last words.

His memory is mostly a haze, but Peter slowly remembers a few disconnected pieces.

The moment his spider-senses screamed.

When he heard the trigger.

Peter doesn’t remember anything after that, other than the noise and the blurs that followed.

Indeed, they were just spending time together as common people. Peter can faintly smell the burgers and fries they were eating before everything fell apart. Might be coming from Tony’s clothes. And Peter smells the blood, too.

Peter wasn’t Spider-Man, then.

He was just Peter.

And his Parker luck would have cursed him again. Tony would’ve paid for it. Thankfully, his mentor is not the one in this bed.

But Peter definitely hates the sight of Tony mourning him like never before. And the worst part is, Tony is not even angry at Peter. He’s not lecturing him for being reckless again. Tony is terrified, because they were just being themselves. Like he said, Peter didn’t have his suit, he didn’t have his webshooters. He had nothing. Only his love for Tony, that screamed louder than everything else.

(That, and his younger self yelling at him to do the right thing.)

Tony tries to swallow his sobs, as well as his anger. He looks like he wants to punch the wall. Or maybe himself. Tony isn’t just angry at the man who shot Peter. He’s angry at himself for not getting shot instead.

Peter squeezes his hands again.

“It’s okay,” he whispers.

Sure, his stomach hurts, but again, he can bear it.

“I’m sorry, Peter,” Tony sniffs.

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.”

“But I’m gonna be okay, Mr. Stark."

Peter smiles at him. That only makes Tony’s dams collapse.

The latter approaches, kissing the former’s forehead for a good couple of seconds, reminding both of them that Peter is alive. Then, Tony’s forehead is touching his, some of his tears falling against Peter.

Tony must have so many things to say. Mainly apologies.

Peter can hear all of them.

Eventually, the teenager scoots to the other side to free some space. Tony sighs in relief and exhaustion, joining Peter. He’s very careful, keeping some distance between them, especially as he eyes where the bandage is hiding Peter’s gunshot wound.

“Does it hurt?” Tony asks.

“Not really.”

Peter is usually the one who was designated with “puppy eyes”, but Tony’s are definitely looking that way, too.

“Were you scared?” The man wonders.

The teenager hums.

“Actually… I don’t think so,” he replies honestly. “I felt like I was at peace. Like… I finally did the right thing, what I should’ve done a long time ago.”

Peter realizes he should’ve probably not said this to his grieving mentor. The silence around them grows much, much heavier. Tony is absolutely silent, but his horror speaks volumes.

“... But that’s not really true, right?” Peter backs up. “I wouldn’t have brought anyone back. It wouldn’t have changed anything. Or maybe things would’ve been worse.”

If Tony is already traumatized beyond relief for nearly losing Peter, the latter doesn’t want to imagine what the former would actually do without him. Peter knows how much Tony lost at this point, and if he had to deal with yet another loss…

“I’m sorry I scared you, Mr. Stark,” he apologizes.

Tony would’ve probably joked about the amount of gray hair he’s been getting because of Peter, but he doesn’t have the strength to do that right now. Tony closes their distance, wrapping at least an arm around the other.

“... thank you,” Tony says. For saving my life. Which might mean many different things.

Peter smiles again. It’s usually the other way around, but he’s the one cupping Tony’s cheek and drying his tears for him.

“I love you,” the boy tells him.

With that, Tony is pulling him closer to hug him, still making sure he won’t hurt Peter.

“I love you, too.” He might squeeze a little. “You’re my kid."

Peter, for once, sheds a couple tears.

Tony lets him know that May will come visit in the morning. Hopefully, Peter will be free to go tomorrow. He wonders if he can stay over with Tony on the weekend, which his mentor approves. Tony, admittedly, doesn’t sound very focused as he holds Peter and doesn’t let go for absolutely anything.

Peter knows what he must be thinking. How he wishes he could protect him from all the harm in the world. He knows he can’t, but right now, Tony just wants to pretend he can.

In the end, they’re at least glad they’re still here, and they’re together.

#lotus speaks #irondad #fics #my fics #drabble #(i guess?)#this one is very angsty sorry #tony cries a LOT here #idk if that's ooc #but he's scared

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nodirectionhome-ao3 · 9 months

Text

As requested by @evbell, a Remus POV missing moment!

This really got away from me length-wise, and there are definitely more Remus scenes that I want to write, but here's the first one! It takes place mostly in the aftermath of Chapter 8, with one 1981 flashback.

The Haunting Hour

A Kindly Stopped for Me missing moment.

When Lily goes back to Privet Drive to confront the Dursleys, Remus reflects on the last time he saw that house, and thinks about the pain that he couldn't stop.

2,858 words! (Below the cut)

10 November, 1981

Remus swayed on his feet, glaring around the room as he steadied himself against the nearest table. The reception was unbearable to him. The miserable, quiet room…the hushed, clipped conversations…the sniffling and crying…

It was supposed to be a celebration of James’s life…but he would’ve fucking hated this…

Remus wove his way carefully around the other mourners, (Is that what he was now? A mourner? Merlin…) casting around for something to distract him — for someone to be angry at. But there was nothing, no one, they were all gone. He pushed past a group of crying strangers (what the fuck did they have to be sad about) and ground to a stop in front of McGonagall. There was an urgent question on his lips, a question he could no longer avoid. There was only one person in the world Remus wanted to see just then, and he needed to see him now.

McGonagall didn’t seem happy about it, but she gave him the address. There was pity in her eyes as she did so, and Remus didn’t linger to hear what she had to say.

He Apparated to the street she’d indicated, his stomach roiling in protest when he arrived. Apparating before a full moon was always a risk. Apparating while five whiskeys in was downright idiotic. He leaned heavily against the garden gate, swallowing back the waves of nausea that pulsed through him. When he was certain he wasn’t going to vomit into the chrysanthemums, he lurched forward towards his destination, pounding his fist against the front door.

A stern-faced blonde woman answered it sometime later. Petunia, Remus realized, though she didn’t look a bloody thing like Lily. Her lip curled in disgust when she took in the state of Remus’s frayed dress robes.

“Hello,” he told her, his voice hoarse, but polite. “Are you…Petunia Dursley?”

“Yes,” the woman said curtly. She didn’t sound anything like Lily either.

“Right,” Remus said. “Well, er—you don’t know me.” His words were slurred, even to his own ears, but he persisted. “My name’s Remus. Remus Lupin. I’m a friend of—of Lily’s…”

Petunia’s eyes narrowed slightly at the sound of her sister’s name. There was a strange expression on her face…an emotion he couldn’t identify, though she didn’t look friendly.

“What do you want?” she said sharply.

Remus swallowed. He wondered vaguely if he should say something to her about Lily…apologize for what happened, tell her she was going to wake up….that it was going to be okay…but he decided against it. Merlin knew he hated when those same platitudes were directed at him.

“I was just wondering…” he rasped. “…if I could see Harry.”

Petunia visibly stiffened. Her stony stare turned, if possible, even more unpleasant — bordering on vicious. “No,” she snapped. “You most certainly may not…”

“Please,” Remus said quickly, swaying again on his feet. “Lily and James are — were — are…my best friends…I won’t…I just want—”

“I don’t care what you want,” Petunia hissed. “The answer is no.”

She moved to close the door, but Remus grabbed it, holding it open as if his life depended on it. He was trembling uncontrollably…black spots dancing at the corners of his vision. It was the day before the full moon, and his body was already waging war against itself…If he couldn’t see Harry today…

“Please,” he choked, unable or unwilling to keep the tears from returning. They burned in his eyes…prickled against his cheeks…reveling in his weakness… “He’s all I’ve got left…you have to — to underst—he’s…they all were…I just…please let me see him…”

But Petunia’s hateful look didn’t waver. “You’re not welcome in this house,” she spat. “My family will have nothing to do with your sort.”

Remus stumbled backward, his arms dropping to his sides. There was a flash of victory in Petunia’s eyes.

“Leave,” she snarled. “Now. Before I phone the police.”

The door slammed shut, and Remus ambled away, moving stiffly as though in a trance.

Your sort, she’d said, not welcome. She knew he was a werewolf. He didn’t know how, but she knew. Had Lily told her? It didn’t seem possible. But it didn’t matter, he supposed. It wasn’t like he could just go sit by her bedside and squeeze her hand and say Lily, did you tell your estranged sister my deepest, darkest secret?

A laugh escaped his lips at that, a hollow, bitter, delirious sound. He stumbled farther from the Dursleys’ house, lifting his head just in time to see a woman down the pavement stop to look at him — a worried frown forming on her face as she reached for her small daughter’s hand and guided her across the street.

Smart of you, Remus thought acerbically, run away from the vicious monster. He laughed humorlessly again, reaching absently for the flask he’d stowed in his pocket. There wasn’t much left — he’d drank most of it at the funeral — and he drained what was left of it in one long gulp, shivering violently as the liquor burned through him.

He made it only a short distance away before he finally collapsed, curling in on himself on some unknown Muggle’s front lawn. Maybe it’s for the best, he thought hazily, while he drifted closer and closer towards unconsciousness. I’m no good for Harry, anyway.

* * *

2 July, 1995

“More whiskey?”

Remus started, tearing his eyes back to Sirius. He hesitated for a moment, then shook his head. “No, I’d best not.”

Sirius nodded grimly, topping off his own glass before twisting the cap back onto the bottle. “Thought she’d be back by now,” he murmured, raising his glass slowly to his lips.

“I did too,” said Remus, his eyes drifting back to the front door — as though Lily would come bursting back through it any minute.

“Still think we should’ve gone with her.”

“She didn’t want us to,” Remus pointed out, still staring at the door.

“She’s not exactly in her right mind, Moony,” Sirius countered lowly, setting his glass down with a soft clink. “Not that I blame her, obviously. James only just died, far as she’s concerned. But…still…” He drained the rest of his drink. “She shouldn’t deal with this alone.”

“It’s her sister,” Remus said tightly, turning back to the table and pushing aside his empty glass. “We have to just…do what Lily wants right now. Whatever she wants…”

He could feel Sirius staring at him as he lifted his hands up to rub his eyes — his slow breaths rattling painfully against his ribcage while he focused on the feel of the table beneath his elbows…the cold of his hands as he dragged them through his hair. Anything to push away the drowning feeling, the widening pit of guilt that lashed inside him with each intruding thought of what Lily had gone to confront.

But try as he might, he couldn’t shake the echo of Sirius’s words from slipping back into his mind, haunting him, over and over, with the realization of his greatest failure.

I think his childhood might’ve been like mine, Sirius had said. And Remus knew what that meant, they all knew what that meant. That Harry had been mistreated, abused perhaps, by the very people that Remus had left him with…all those years ago…when he’d shut down instead of stepping up.

The memory of his one and only trip to Privet Drive played through his mind once more, spinning like a dusty film reel, and Remus flexed his fingers — resisting the urge to reach for the bottle he knew could offer only temporary comfort.

He glanced at the door again, swallowing down a growing lump. What would’ve happened, he thought, if he’d ignored Petunia that day? What would he have found, if he’d shoved his way into the house, refused to leave until he set his eyes on Harry?

The hypotheticals dug in, shouting back at Remus in different variations that all seemed to add up to you failed Harry, you failed James, you failed Lily.

The thoughts grew louder, louder, louder, undaunted by Remus’s fruitless attempts to quash him. And just when he thought they were going to bury him once more, the door banged open, and they were interrupted.

Remus turned, heart dropping to his stomach at the sight of Lily. She stalked into the room, storming past Remus to settle at the far end of the table, where she snatched up the abandoned bottle of firewhiskey and downed the rest of it in one breath.

Remus stood up, watching her warily as she drank. She’d obviously been in a fight. Her right hand was swollen and bruised, red marks shining on the swells of her knuckles. Her face was splotchy and puffy from crying, though her eyes blazed with a level of fury he’d never seen there before — not even at the height of the war.

She turned slightly, moving towards the kitchen cupboard, and Remus saw that there was a mark on her neck…a spot where bruises were beginning to form. There was a dark patch in her hair, at the back, and though it was hard to tell with her hair color, Remus was sure that it was blood.

Sirius spoke first, voice tight and strained. “What happened?” he demanded. “What’d they do to you?”

Lily was rummaging through the cupboard, pushing bottles carelessly aside in what was no doubt a desperate hunt for more liquor.

“Nothing,” she said tensely.

Sirius glanced at Remus, eyes wild, and Remus held up a cautionary hand…stepping closer to where Lily was still rummaging. “Lily,” he said gently, carefully. “Your head is bleeding. Can you tell us how that happened?”

Lily’s hand shot up, prodding at the blood. Then she lowered it slowly, studying the red on her palm for several moments before she let out a derisive snort and moved over to the sink, flicking the tap on to wash it off. “It’s not mine,” she said matter-of-factly, her voice strangely emotionless. “Vernon’s. I head-butted him. Broke his nose, maybe.”

Remus glanced briefly at Sirius, who returned his look with raised eyebrows. “Okay,” he said very slowly. “Why did you…”

“It might’ve had something to do with the fact that he was trying to choke me.”

Sirius breathed in sharply, stepping towards her. “That fucking—”

Remus grabbed his arm, pulling him back. “What happened?” he asked slowly, patiently.

Lily found what she was looking for in the cabinet underneath the sink. She straightened up, twisting open a bottle of elf-made wine. As Remus and Sirius watched in uneasy silence, she found a wineglass and filled it to the brim — draining its contents in two breaths. Then she filled it again, lifted it back to her lips.

“Lily,” Remus uttered cautiously. “If you tell us what happened…maybe we could help.”

There was a brief silence, an intake of breath, and then—

Smash.

Remus flinched, stepping back slightly as the wineglass shattered in the sink where Lily had thrown it, burgundy liquid and razor-sharp edges ricocheting outwards from the impact. Lily leaned against the counter, breathing heavily while she pinched the bridge of her nose. “You can’t fucking help,” she snapped.

Remus swallowed. “Lily—”

She rounded on him, red-rimmed eyes burning. “Can you go back in time? Take my son away from those abusive fucking animals?”

Remus didn’t respond, couldn’t respond. It was as if the air had just been sucked out of his lungs forever.

Lily nodded jerkily at his silence. “That’s what I thought.”

She shoved past him, storming back up the stairs without a backwards glance.

The kitchen was still in her absence, frozen in the wake of her pain. A line of red wine spilled over the edge of the sink, streaking down towards the floor. Sirius stood, transfixed, eyes glued to the shattered glass. And whether he was thinking of the horrors of Privet Drive or Grimmauld Place, Remus wasn’t sure, but he knew that his friend was lost in thought — haunted by dark thoughts of a childhood untimely stolen.

Remus turned away, forcing his aching bones into action as he moved to follow Lily.

* * *

Her door was locked when Remus got there, and he heard no sound from the other side. He knocked gently. “Lily?”

No answer.

He knocked again.

No answer.

“Lily,” he called out, leaning his forehead against the cold wood. “I just need to know that you’re okay.”

His plea was met with the distinct click of the door unlocking. No sound followed, and Remus grit his teeth, pushing the door carefully open.

He found Lily in the adjourning bathroom, leaning over the sink and siphoning Vernon’s blood out of her hair with her wand. Judging from the clearness of her knuckles and the absence of swelling, Remus guessed that she had healed her hand already.

He stood quietly for a moment, watching the lines of blood as they circled the drain. “Can I help with that?”

She shook her head, stubborn as ever, and Remus nodded in resignation, leaning against the doorway. He watched her in silence, weighing all the words he couldn’t bring himself to say, (I failed you, I failed you all, I’m sorry) and the questions he could not begin to ask (Do you still trust me? Can I still be here? Do you want me to leave?).

He waited for her to shout at him, to turn him away, to demand to know where he was all those years…all those years when he wasn’t strong enough to be there for Harry. But instead, she just turned to him, a hint of reluctance on her face as she gestured to the bruises forming on her neck.

“Do you remember the bruise-clearing charm? I forgot the incantation.” She bit her lip, the anger wavering from her eyes when she looked at the mirror. “I don’t want Harry to see these.”

Remus nodded, drawing his own wand from his pocket, and stepped closer to her. He brushed it carefully against her skin, muttering the spell he knew for clearing simple bruises. It worked instantly, and Lily breathed a soft sigh of relief when the marks vanished.

“Thanks,” she murmured, somewhat begrudgingly.

“Don’t mention it.”

There was another silence. Lily turned away from him, crossing her arms and staring down at the floor. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she muttered eventually. “What happened tonight — the Dursleys — I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay,” Remus answered her, slipping his wand carefully back into his pocket. “You don’t…have to.”

There was another silence. Another awful, dreadful, impenetrable silence. It was fucking awful, Remus thought, to finally have his friend back after all these years and be so hopelessly, tragically terrible at talking to her. Sirius would be better at this, he knew, if it wasn’t hitting so close to bloody home for him.

Remus shifted, stepping back to lean against the door frame again. He felt his jaw tighten into its usual mask, his mind working on overdrive to ignore the fact that she didn’t want to talk to him…didn’t want to look at him…

An old, familiar thought blossomed at the back of his mind, flickering incessantly the more he tried to drown it.

The thought that maybe she would be better off without him.

He needed to test the waters…to find out if she regretted inviting him here, if she wanted him to leave…

“Can I…” he cleared his throat, straightening up. “Can I go with you tomorrow? To pick up Harry?”

She looked up quickly, her eyes softening just a touch as they settled into his. She studied him, possibly weighing her words, then nodded — very slightly. “Yeah,” she said. “Of course.”

Remus nodded, breathing out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

And then, to his surprise, Lily lurched forward — wrapping her arms around him and burying her face against his chest. Remus’s mind went blank. He blinked slowly, lifting his arms up sluggishly to hug her back.

“My sister,” she whispered, shaky voice muffled by his robes. “My own fucking sister.”

Remus swallowed, lifting a hand to gently stroke her hair. “I know…I’m so sorry.”

She took a long, slow, quivering breath, her grip momentarily tightening around his back. Then, without warning, she pushed back and away from him — striding around him back into the bedroom. Remus turned, heart sinking, and watched her climb into the bed and pull the covers over herself.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said shakily, in a clear dismissal — her face hidden from view as she burrowed it into one of Walburga’s old pillows.

Remus took his cue to exit, lingering for just a moment in the doorway to her room. “It’s going to be alright, Lily,” he said — as much to reassure himself as to reassure her. “We’ll just…take it day by day.”

She didn’t respond, merely burrowing herself deeper under the covers. Remus swallowed hard, stepped out into the corridor, and closed her door behind him.

#kindly stopped for me #missing moment #remus pov #chapter 8

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