#i think ive finally caught up with the reality of the situation

[hannieehaee]

SINGING LOW (teaser)

18+ / mdi

summary: despite everyone within the industry knowing mingyu to date around a lot, what didn't meet the public's eye was his undying crush on you, his label mate, and his need to fill the you-shaped hole in his heart with any girl who'd give him the time of day.

content: idol!mingyu x hybeidol!reader, pining, mingyu's kind of a slut, smut, afab reader, reader is a 97 liner, dry humping, a lot of made up shit abt the industry lmao, mentions of other idols, oral sex (f and m receiving), penetrative sex, angst, fluff, etc.

(^ no actual content warnings in the teaser)

wc: 1.7k (teaser) 13k (full fic)

FULL FIC HERE

Or you can check it out on my ko-fi today by subscribing here and going on the fic here

a/n: this is not connected to my lil idol!mingyu x idol!reader series just fyi <3 also i decided to open a ko-fi!! (stop booing me pls T-T) here's a link to the details! anyways hope u enjoy this ive been thinking of this trope for a while <33

masterlist

Mingyu could still remember the day he met you. Well, maybe not met, but it was the first time he ever saw you face to face. It was at some awards show back in 2017. MAMA, was it? Or maybe the MMAs? Well, that didn't matter much. All he knew is that on stage, you had caught his eye.

It was only about a year into his debut, so he still wasn't too used to this scene. He simply sat back and enjoyed the pretty sight in front of him, knowing your group (and you) by name, but not having had the pleasure of meeting you personally by then. He hadn't met many people thus far, actually. At the time, most of his friends in the industry consisted of the twelve other members of his group. Coming from a small company, it had been hard for any of the members to begin to disperse and befriend their peers in the industry. Sure, they all had friendly acquaintances with other idols, but nothing could really compare to what they had with one another.

It wasn't until somewhere around 2017 that Mingyu had finally found a group of friends outside of his twelve members that he could trust. He had always been an outgoing guy, befriending anyone who'd look his way. He reasoned that someone had to be the icebreaker in every social situation, and he had given himself that job. Despite being a charismatic extrovert, however, most of these friendships did not stick. He developed many acquaintances, and maybe even situational friendships, but he had not really considered anyone a friend until meeting one Jeon Jungkook.

Jeon Jungkook was simply the tip of the iceberg. Some believed Mingyu had taken the man under his wing, while others believed the opposite, but it had in fact been a mutual aid. They had both felt a bit lost at the time they met, bonding over the many things their lives had in common. Their age being one of them. At first it was thrown around as a joke, the idea of forming a little group with the many other 97-liners within their industry. But that joke became reality soon after when Mingyu had met Yugyeom backstage during his group's most recent comeback at the time. The three soon became four, taking in a Cha Eunwoo, and then a Jaehyun from NCT. Even some of Mingyu's own members joining, having the privilege of being born on the great year of 1997. This was how you eventually entered the picture.

Mingyu had already known you, well, more so known about you. Despite being the same age, you had debuted a couple of years before Seventeen, which gave him the opportunity to get to know you as an idol before he did personally. He still remembered the days in the green basement, watching comeback shows with the members as they prepared for their own debut. There had been a specific day when your group had been presenting their newest comeback, which was also the day Mingyu first caught sight of you. You had caught his eye immediately. There was just something about you. He might've developed a slight interest in you from that moment on, hoping for the day in which he would become one of your peers.

Upon debuting, Mingyu had only seen you in passing for the first few years, the closest contact being a quick and informal introduction between your groups as you cruised through the backstage hallways of MNET. You looked even better in real life, he had to admit. But sadly, there was no one-on-one interaction between you that day. Nor was there during any of the following encounters throughout the next few years. It wasn't until a few years into the creation of the 97 squad that Mingyu had the pleasure of meeting you personally.

It was sometimes Jungkook who brought in new members to the friend group, but it was mostly Mingyu who would take the liberty of befriending the aforementioned members in order to introduce them into the group. It was mostly due to Mingyu's extroverted personality, which allowed him to strike up conversation with anyone at any time, unlike Jungkook who was a bit shier in that aspect. It had been Jungkook, however, who had first introduced the two of you. It had been backstage of MAMA or MMA, he wasn't completely sure. Mingyu also wasn't sure how you and Jungkook had met; he'd never bothered to ask, but upon your first meeting it had seemed like the two of you were close friends already. Mingyu had to admit that upon that first assumption, he was a bit jealous of his proximity to you. This was immediately followed by the realization that maybe Mingyu's previous infatuation in you went further than mere interest in you as a fellow idol, but it was maybe a bit of a crush. Regardless of what Mingyu had felt at the moment, he knew that he wanted to see you again.

For some unknown reason, you were not present in the following 97 gathering soon after your introduction. This struck Mingyu as strange, seeing as you were also a 97, and a friend of Jungkook's, so why would you not be present? It was soon after revealed to Mingyu that you had yet to be offered a spot in the now renown 97 squad. Jungkook had assessed that all the dating rumors that would come attached to the inclusion of a girl in the group were simply not worth it. He wanted to save you both the headache and the scandal. It seemed like a pretty reasonable decision. Mingyu, however, was not the most reasonable of people, often allowing his decision-making to be led by impulse rather than calculated choices. Which was why Mingyu had found himself walking up to you next time he spotted you at yet another comeback show, promptly asking you if you'd like to meet some of his friends sometime in the following week, claiming it was tradition for all 97s to go for a drink every other week. He felt like he was inviting you to join into a cult, or at least that's what you said to him it had felt like. But you had still agreed, giving him your number so that you could be privy to the details of the meeting.

Your admission to the friend group came very naturally, having already met a few of the members and easily befriending the rest. Yes, it had come with some controversy at first, but Mingyu had come to learn that you were quite strong-minded, not allowing a few rumors to get in the way of your personal life. It was easy for the two of you to grow close after that. Despite having befriended the entirety of the group, you and Mingyu seemed to form a more special bond, even seeking each other's company outside of group gatherings. It was all platonic, of course. Mingyu had quickly realized you did not seem interested in that way, so he tucked his crush deep within him, choosing to offer a friendship to you instead, never speaking of his crush to anyone. This was how the two of you came to become best friends.

This repression of his feelings, however, did not come without its consequences.

Mingyu was a hopeless romantic at heart. This meant that his crush never really went away. It actually worsened over the years that he knew you. But you never acted like anything other than a friend to him. You would always treat him the same way you did Jaehyun or Eunwoo. He was just another one of the members of the friend group to you. Yes, you two were closer in nature – calling each other the best of friends within the industry – but Mingyu did not want to risk that closeness just because of a selfish crush.

The repression of his feelings was also met with other things. Mingyu was a very loving man. He needed to express his love to everyone around him or he would physically explode (Okay, not really, but he swore that's what it felt like to him). He had a loving family to tend to by taking care of them financially and spending every waking minute away from work with. He had his thirteen best friends to shower with playful affection during and out of work. He had his 97-liners to play around with in between work schedules. What he did not have, however, was that one person who was his and only his. Someone to give the type of love that you reserve for only that one special person in your life.

Mingyu found himself seeking this person out since the beginning of time. Many would call Mingyu a womanizer or a player due to the high volume of relationships he had been involved in during his life. It wasn't like that, however. Not at all. Mingyu would date a girl he liked, would be happy with her, but would ultimately realize that the spark he was looking for was not there, causing him to regrettably end the relationship. He was often met with curses directed his way, but he felt it was best to try and end it amicably if he did not see a future there.

His most recent relationship had been with a former staff member. She was funny and sweet, and also pretty easy on the eyes. They got along very well when she first got assigned to Mingyu as part of his personal team. It started as a friendship, but it didn't take long for Mingyu's hopeless romantic tendencies to seek her out in a romantic way, something to which she obviously agreed to immediately. Mingyu had no issue getting women on his side. He had never dealt with rejection all his life. Being handsome, talented, funny, and even rich from a young age, it was rare to be met with anything but enthusiastic responses left and right. The relationship did not end amicably, however. Mingyu should've known better than to date someone who technically worked for him. I mean, he had been through this before (with one stylist, one MNET staff member, and a former Pledis recruiter to be specific), so he should've known by now that mixing business with pleasure was a bad idea. But his romantic tendencies couldn't be helped. He had too much love to give, and no one to give it to.

#seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #svt fanfic #seventeen #svt #svt x reader #seventeen imagine #seventeen oneshot #seventeen smut #svt smut #mingyu fanfic #mingyu x reader #mingyu imagines #mingyu scenario #mingyu smut

[teyamskxawng]

In Heat [V]

Lo'ak Sully x Fem!Omatikaya!Reader

Previously: Chapter I, Chapter II, Chapter III, Chapter IV

The rundown: You and Lo'ak finally get your heads out of your asses.

Warnings: 18+ content, language, smut-ish, brief mention of reader's deceased parents/being orphaned, characters are aged up, minors do not interact!! please

WC: 6.2k

A/N: Don't let the beginning of this chapter fool you; this one is really really fluffy :)))

Lo'ak wished he could vanish into thin air.

He sat across the cave from you, eating his breakfast, but when he met your eyes, he immediately folded in on himself, trying to be as invisible as possible.

You were sitting with Näoo, deep in conversation, and by the furtive glances you both occasionally sent his way, Lo'ak just knew that you were talking about him, and not in a positive light.

You looked as though your heat had finally passed. You were no longer all dazed and disheveled, and your eyes had returned to their tell-tale golden hue.

Looking at you, Lo'ak knew exactly what you were thinking. You must have realized how he felt about you, and you were disgusted by the thought. The idea that Lo'ak, the freak, could feel anything other than platonic feelings for you was probably unbearable.

In truth, he had lost himself in the midst of your heat, acting like a touch-starved teenage boy, which, in all honesty, described him spot-on.

Lo'ak cursed himself for being so foolish. He had known all along that his feelings for you were deeper than those shared between regular friends, but he kept them hidden in fear of losing you. Yet still, he couldn't resist the pull of you–your pleas for him–when you announced that you were in heat.

It was like a magnetic force that drew him in, even though he knew it was so wrong.

He replayed that fateful moment in the forest in his mind over and over again, wishing he had just walked away like he should have. But no; instead, he let himself get lost in the fantasy. The lustful stares, the burning touches, the whispered noises.

It was only later, when reality hit him like a ton of bricks, that he truly understood the gravity of the situation. None of this was really you, not the girl he had known and loved for so long. It was just your primal instincts taking over, and he had allowed himself to be swept away without even thinking about the consequences.

Lo'ak could've just kept his feelings buried like he had been for the past however many years that he'd realized he liked you more than regular old friends liked each other. Lo'ak was hopeless, so far gone for you, but he just had to go and fuck it all up.

Lo'ak cast a furtive glance up as you and Näoo rose from your seats and made to leave the cave.

He hastily looked away before you might've had the chance to lock eyes with him, feigning interest down at the scattered fruit in his bowl. 

Caught in his act, Lo'ak swore under his breath as he heard Kiri's exasperated tsk from beside him. Cornered, Lo'ak peeked at her from the side of his eye. He found her glaring at him, silently fuming. 

Steeling himself against an inevitable lecture from his sister about how stupid he was and how much you hated him now that you'd come to your senses, Lo'ak clenched his jaw and stuffed the last few pieces of fruit into his mouth.

As he rose to his feet, he could barely wait to flee the scene and find somewhere quiet and alone to brood.

Before Lo'ak could even manage to take a single step, Kiri intervened, yanking him back down to the seated position he was just in. The force she exerted was both impressive and mildly alarming. Kiri's hand remained clenched around his forearm, refusing to falter even for a moment, as she abruptly questioned him, "Why are you acting like this?"

Lo'ak made a feeble attempt to free his arm from her death grip, but his efforts were ineffective in the face of Kiri's unwavering resolve. 

"Like what?" he muttered, his voice probably failing to convey any genuine sense of confusion.

Kiri merely tightened her grasp in response, causing Lo'ak to let out an involuntary hiss of pain. "Ah! Kiri, stop!" he shrieked.

Rolling her eyes at his melodramatic reaction, Kiri pressed her point further.

"You're acting like y/n doesn't exist," she accused him bluntly. 

Lo'ak, upon hearing your name, instinctively shifted his gaze and tilted his head away from his sister. It was as if he imagined that the subtle change in his posture might somehow enable him to escape the encroaching thoughts of you.

"I'm not acting like anything," he retorted defensively. "Why don't you just mind your business?" 

Kiri shook her head, looking at her brother with a mix of pity and annoyance. 

"Whatever you think you're doing, it's not working. You're hurting her. y/n, she–" Kiri let out a derisive laugh. "—for some unfathomable reason, she really, really cares about you. Clearly, more than you know. She's probably just as embarrassed as you are about whatever happened between you two. But you," Kiri jabbed a finger into Lo'ak's forehead for emphasis, "need to suck it up and talk to her. Make things right. I refuse to sit here and watch you two walk around like sad little prrenens." 

Finally, she let go of Lo'ak's arm and gave him a forceful shove toward where you just went.

Lo'ak just stood there, a grimace etching deep lines between his eyebrows as he rubbed the spot on his forehead that Kiri had just prodded.

"Go!" Kiri ordered, her voice brooking no argument.

Lo'ak sighed, biting the inside of his cheek to keep any snide remarks at bay. He turned back toward Kiri, his jaw clenched and his arms anxiously crossed over his chest.

"What am I even supposed to say to her?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly. He hated how he sounded so weak, so helpless at the thought of approaching his own best friend. It was pathetic.

Kiri's eyes actually softened a bit as she realized that her brother was actually in distress–clearly anxious about confronting you.

There was nothing else for Kiri to advise him with, though.

As much as Kiri grew up hating it, Lo'ak was always closer to you than she was, despite her best efforts. You and Lo'ak had a bond that only the two of you could truly understand. 

Kiri simply looked at her brother and said, "I don't need to tell you what to say to your best friend, Lo'ak."

Lo'ak was still unsure about the whole "you caring about him more than he knows" thing. Nevertheless, he knew he needed to at least try to make things right between him and you. It was the least he could do. If you didn't want him in your life anymore, so be it. He would have to learn how to cope with that.

Lo'ak reluctantly nodded at Kiri, who only tilted her head in a half smile, his silent thanks received and appreciated.  

Lo'ak's mind started racing as soon as he turned to leave, trying to figure out where he could find you. Preferably somewhere alone. Lo'ak blanched at the thought of having his planned conversation in front of an audience. 

His first instinct was to check your tent, but unsurprisingly, you weren't there. Lo'ak's heart sank at the realization that you could be literally anywhere. You had finally completed your heat cycle and were free to roam past Hometree as you pleased.

Leaving your tent, Lo'ak let out a loud groan of frustration, running a hand over his forehead, anxiety written all over his face.

Suddenly, the sound of children playing nearby caught his attention. Lo'ak couldn't help but smile as he watched the young kids, their chatter and laughter filling the air. It reminded him of how you and he were as children–carefree and happy, always getting into mischief together.

One of the kids who had watched him call for you at your door suddenly exclaimed, "She went that way, the girl who lives there."

They stuck a tiny finger up in the air towards the top of Hometree. 

Curiosity piqued, Lo'ak glanced in the direction the kid had pointed and immediately knew exactly where you went.

"Was she alone?" he inquired, adamant that the conversation had to be held in private.

The kids snickered and giggled some more at Lo'ak's decidedly sneaky question.

"Allllll alone," the same kid said, this time with their hand placed over their chest and their head tilted to the side in mock adoration. 

No way was Lo'ak getting made fun of by a group of na'vi half his age. He flipped the little demon the finger, which only elicited more boisterous laughter from the group. 

As he made his way toward the direction the child had pointed, Lo'ak decided that he wasn't going to ask any more questions. Shaking his head in embarrassment, he jumped onto the large branch at the center of Hometree, quickly making his way up the thick spiral staircase.   

Lo'ak cautiously made his way up the tree, scaling the trunk until he reached one of the extended branches that jutted out at the top. He perched there, his back against another larger supporting branch as he scanned the area for you. 

The view was as breathtaking as the first time he saw it, the lush forest and its swaying branches stretching out for what seemed like thousands of miles.

His ears flattened when he spotted you, settled in your shared spot, and the memories instantly flooded his mind. 

This was the spot he and you had discovered as curious and mischievous five-year-olds, seeking refuge from the prying eyes of your elders high up in the canopy of Hometree. It was a sanctuary, the one place where the two of you could escape when things became too much, when it was too hard to breathe. It was a spot where you could be yourselves, Lo'ak and y/n.

Not Lo'ak the overlooked son of Toruk Makto and brother of the future olo'eyktan. Not y/n the orphaned child of deceased parents, taken by Eywa far too soon.

Just you and Lo'ak. Two best friends.

Lo'ak took a deep breath and allowed himself to take in the beauty around him. That included you, just a few branches away, your head tilted back, soaking in the early morning rays of light. The wind was tranquil, and he could feel it as it brushed against his skin, could see as it caused your hair to fly in all directions, even into your face. The chirping of the birds was so much louder up higher in the trees, and the rustle of leaves below was soft and calming.

Lo'ak almost got lost in the serenity of it all until you broke the silence. 

"Great Mother," you muttered, weariness dripping from your voice. 

And, okay. That definitely wasn't the first thing he'd wanted to hear you say to him. He barely had time to catch a glimpse of your face before you turned away, steadfastly avoiding eye contact. Your heavy sigh weighed down the air like a bag of stones.

The tension in the air was so unbelievably thick.

Lo'ak cleared his throat awkwardly before starting. "Uh," he started warily, not wanting to get off on the wrong foot with you, who clearly didn't want to be in his presence. "I just wanted to talk. To apologize."

You remained motionless for a few seconds, and the silence ate away at Lo'ak. He watched your striped back rise and fall with each breath you took, the only sign that you were actually alive and there in front of him. Just as he was contemplating booking it back down to the bottom of the tree and forgetting his will to salvage your friendship, you finally spoke up. 

"I really don't know what you mean by that. I'm the one who needs to apologize. And I was going to, eventually, but…." You trailed off.

Again, silence enveloped you both.

Lo'ak was frustrated by the constant pauses. He wondered if this was how the conversation would go, just him talking to your back and ten-second pauses between every sentence. 

Lo'ak could feel his anxiety mounting. This conversation was not going how he had hoped. He hated feeling like he was tiptoeing around you, so he finally hunkered down and got to it, taking a deep breath before speaking.

"No. I am. I'm sorry for letting myself get carried away back when you... y'know," he said, trying to smooth over the situation as best he could without adding to the awkwardness that permeated the air.

He could see your shoulders tense up, even at the indirect mention of your heat, so he continued in hopes of moving past that specific detail for now.

"I still mean what I said the other day. You weren't yourself. You were in an altered, vulnerable state of mind, and what I did was wrong. It should have never happened, even though I wanted it to," he stated firmly, hoping to put the matter to rest permanently. Unfortunately, the last part kind of slipped out against his will, and Lo'ak's eyes widened at his blunder. 

You spun around at the confession, nearly losing your balance on the tree branch that you were perched on in the process. Your eyes were as wide as Lo'ak's, and Lo'ak felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest with how fast it started going.

Shit shit shit. It's over, he thought.

He wasn't supposed to say that. He wasn't supposed to admit that he wanted you. This was supposed to be a friendly, platonic make-up, and the two of you were supposed to go back to being best friends like normal after all was said and done. There was no way that would happen at this rate.

"I mean, I..." Lo'ak fumbled over his words in a desperate attempt to save whatever shred of dignity he had left, but it was no use.

The moment was irretrievably ruined, and it seemed as though your delicate friendship was now in even greater jeopardy, all thanks to his stupid mouth.

Your mouth hung open in disbelief, and Lo'ak was sure he could hear your thoughts–you were disgusted at the idea of him wanting you, and you were about to make that absolutely crystal-fucking-clear. 

But you surprised him by just blinking at him in shock. It wasn't much better than the alternative. 

"You wanted to?" you asked as if you were in disbelief.

After a few moments of Lo'ak opening and closing his mouth, searching for some half-assed excuse, his face finally scrunched up in confusion.

Wasn't it obvious?

He had been doing a shit job at hiding his feelings for you, especially over the last few days. You saw clearly on multiple occasions throughout your heat the poorly concealed, painful physical evidence of how badly he wanted you. You even had him cornered against your table as you admitted out loud that you knew he wanted you.

"What—?" He started, his mind struggling to comprehend what was happening. "Of course, I wanted to–You even figured it out yourself!" 

You shook your head as you absentmindedly crawled a few branches closer to him, barely speaking loud enough for him to hear. 

"I thought I'd just convinced myself to believe what I wanted to hear. I thought it was just my heat, Lo'ak."

Lo'ak had to go back and reprocess your words once, and then twice, because there was no way he heard what he thought he did. 

"Wait, you wanted it too?" he asked, bewildered. 

Now just within arm's reach of Lo'ak, you let out a shaky breath of laughter. You couldn't believe what you were understanding. You felt a fire come to life in the pit of your stomach, but this time, it had nothing to do with your heat.

"We are so, so stupid," you muttered under your breath.

You had spent so long pushing down your feelings for Lo'ak, sure that he could've never reciprocated them, not even in your wildest dreams. Yet here you both were, two intertwined souls precariously hovering on the line between friendship and something so much more.

Lo'ak shook his head in amusement. "Speak for yourself," he replied.

His quip barely even registered in your hazy mind.

Of course, I wanted to.

It was all you could hear, over and over.

"How long?" you asked.

You were impossibly closer all of a sudden, and Lo'ak found himself having to dip his head down just to meet your eyes, the bright yellow ones that he knew and loved. His heart raced at your sudden proximity, at the intensity of your stare. It was the same look that rendered him helplessly compliant at your will. The same look that he knew could make him drop everything, all for you.

"Hmm?" Lo'ak hummed, struggling to focus as he lost himself in your eyes. 

"How long have you felt this way?" you repeated, your eyes not once leaving Lo'ak's own.

Your words rang in his ears. Lo'ak shook his head, a huffed exhale leaving his lips as he tried to come up with an answer. He had felt so strongly about you for as long as he could remember, but putting his feelings into words was proving to be an impossible task. 

Eventually, he muttered, "A long time. Since we were kids, probably." 

There was a long pause as the two of you stared at each other, lost in your thoughts.

Lo'ak's mind was racing, his heart hammering in his chest as he tried to come up with something–anything–to say. You, meanwhile, were studying him intently, a small smile playing at the corner of your mouth. 

Lo'ak watched as the smile flitted across your lips, a hint of shyness causing you to avert your gaze away from him. 

"Me too," you whispered, your voice soft and uncharacteristically quiet. Seeing you like that made Lo'ak's heart melt. He was so gone for you.

He couldn't resist the urge to reach out and cup your face with both of his palms, reveling in how sweet and fucking beautiful you were, your aura practically glowing underneath the light cast by the canopy of treetops surrounding you.

He watched with an embarrassingly huge smile on his face as you shut your eyes, a deeper blush creeping up your cheeks as you felt the intensity of his stare.

His heart beat a wild, frenzied pattern in his chest as he drank in the sight of you before him, wondering how anyone could be so captivating, so precious, so perfect.

As if his body were acting on its own accord, Lo'ak found himself leaning in closer, lightly pressing his lips against your forehead with the most fleeting of touches, a barely-there sort of kiss. 

He didn't dare to pull away and gauge your reaction, already embarrassed by his own sentimentality.

Instead, he tilted his head even further, his hands gently cradling your face as your foreheads came to rest against one another's.

You laughed softly in response to his endearingly bashful yet persistently affectionate behavior.

Lo'ak felt the puff of your breath against his face, and his spine felt a thrilling jolt, goosebumps prickling up and down his arms at the feel of your warm exhale mixing with his own, tickling his face. You'd never been this close to one another, never close enough to share the same breath.

It felt a million times more intimate than any of what you'd done together in the past few days, and it left Lo'ak nearly shaking in anticipation.

Lo'ak suddenly felt your hand as it slid up his arm, even more goosebumps prickling his skin in the wake of your lingering touch. You cradled his head gently, nestling your fingers in the braids at the back of his skull, lightly dragging your nails against his scalp. 

The tenderness of your touch was almost too much for him to handle as you pulled his head down towards you. You lifted your chin up, his lips finally at your level, barely a fraction of space existing between you.

Your mouths barely brushed at first. The kiss was soft, delicate, gentle enough for either of you to pull away if you wanted to, but you both soon decided that was out of the question.

The moment your lips pressed further against his with a bit more purpose, he was transported to an entirely different world, a world where the only thing that mattered was the very presence of your soft lips on his.

In what felt like an outpouring of unbridled passion, all of the emotion that had been brewing between you for the past week was channeled into the sheer intensity of the kiss. You practically went limp, opening yourself up for Lo'ak as his lungs deflated with pleasure.

Lo'ak couldn't help but wonder why the fuck the two of you had waited so long to do this. It was as if you both had been dancing around this moment forever, and now it had finally arrived.

Although he would never confess it, he had envisioned it countless times—kissing you.

In the late hours of the night, exclusively when he found himself alone in his swaying hammock, that's when his thoughts would drift towards you, his best friend. Yet, nothing his imagination produced could ever measure up to the real thing. 

Your lips were soft and inviting, irresistibly drawing him in further. Lo'ak, with his receptive and enthusiastic nature, gladly surrendered to your allure, becoming completely engulfed in the all-encompassing, almost unmanageable sensations that rippled through every fiber of his being, utterly captivated by your presence. 

Your lips finally parted after what felt like an eternity, breaths ragged and heavy as you both gasped for air.

Lo'ak's eyes flicked open just in time to catch one last glimpse of your glistening bottom lip before it disappeared between your teeth. He couldn't tear his gaze away from your mouth, entranced by the fullness of your lips and the memory of how perfectly they moved against his own.

So, he did the only reasonable thing that he could think of. 

Without hesitation, Lo'ak leaned in and captured your lips once more, this time deepening the kiss with an eager swipe of his tongue. He felt the irrational urge to get closer, to draw you even tighter to his body, despite that not being physically possible.

You were caught off guard by his sudden passion, nearly stumbling from the force of the kiss. But as you steadied yourself, you reciprocated with equal vigor, dipping your fingers deeper in his hair and holding him close.

Lo'ak's hands came down to keep you steady, his grip on your lithe waist firm and a little rough as he desperately squeezed you. You couldn't help but find it endearing. You tried to stifle the laughter threatening to escape from your lips as you felt him squeeze your middle even tighter, but it proved to be a futile effort as a muffled sound still escaped you. 

Lo'ak let out a grunt, a sheepish expression crossing his face as he loosened his death grip to a more gentle cradle. His fingers danced along the soft skin just below the hem of your beaded top, his thumb rubbing up and down in a tender, playful motion.

Lo'ak was admittedly caught off guard when you pulled away from the kiss, but before he could even make a big deal about it, your mouth found its way to his jawline, leaving a trail of soft presses that turned into suctioned kisses and little bites all along his jaw. 

As you made your way down to his neck, Lo'ak couldn't help the embarrassing sounds he made—it felt too incredible to care. He surrendered himself to the stimulus that you were causing, tortured groans slipping past his lips each time you nipped at his skin.

You continued kissing your way down the column of Lo'ak's neck, humming softly into his skin, your canines probably biting hard enough to leave dark marks on his neck. The thought sent chills down Lo'ak's spine. The thought of being covered in your marks, the thought of being yours–it all made him see stars. 

Suddenly, he didn't think your little joke about him being "so submissive" was all that far off. 

He had to close his eyes to ground himself.

His tail, seemingly aware of his intense pleasure, involuntarily wrapped itself around your thigh, the tip of it swishing excitedly as Lo'ak's senses went on overdrive.

"Fuck," Lo'ak murmured under his breath.

With a heavy exhale, he stepped back and gazed at you, hands still firmly gripping your waist, feeling an overwhelming rush of tenderness and adoration toward you.

All at once, it dawned on him just how much he cared for you, the magnitude of the love he harbored within him.

The realization washed over him like a warm bath of light.

It wasn't merely a fleeting infatuation–it was a profound love that had been quietly growing over months and years. Lo'ak knew deep down that he had loved you for as long as he could remember; maybe it had all started when you were just innocent children, your days almost solely spent playing together. 

Back then, your bonding was that of an untarnished, tender friendship.

You were always the very first person who Lo'ak sought each morning after breakfast had finished. The simple daily ritual provided you both with ample time to explore the wonders around you as the other children dispersed into groups to play amongst themselves.

You were one of a kind–at least in the eyes of Lo'ak. Your gleeful energy and winning smile warmed his heart like no other na'vi could. You were the only child amongst his peers who never made fun of his fourth finger; not once did you point at it in mockery or join the raucous laughter of the other young children as they relentlessly teased Lo'ak about his avatar blood. You never once ridiculed or shamed him.

A vivid memory sprung to his mind: you, marching out from between a group of terrified kids after a particularly heated name-calling session where you ferociously retaliated on behalf of young Lo'ak. A trail of dark red blood marred your cheek, having just bitten the unlucky shit that dared to call Lo'ak a freak. With a battle-worn grin plastered across your face, you resembled a tiny warrior, and Lo'ak was obsessed with you.

At the time, Lo'ak was overjoyed–probably even more so at seeing his bully run away crying than at being safeguarded from ridicule. And now–standing there and holding your waist tenderly–Lo'ak couldn't deny how endlessly grateful he was to have such a deep-rooted connection with you.

Maybe it was simply written in the stars, destined by Eywa herself. 

Lo'ak had heard countless tales of that kind of thing–stories of two young na'vi who had been divinely matched as children, destined to become a mated pair.

The very idea of being mated to you, of being eternally bound to his best friend and the only soul he could envision sharing his life with, made Lo'ak's breath catch in his throat.

The thought of a life where you and he raised a family together, watched your children grow up strong and wise under the guidance of Eywa and eventually became that elderly couple sitting outside their home as the sun dipped below the horizon filled him with unimaginable joy. 

Lo'ak began to contemplate what exactly your little ones might look like. Maybe there'd be a mini-you, complete with both of your combined warrior spirit but tempered by your own clever inclinations. Or maybe there would be a cluster of chubby blue faces that carried your fierce determination and his stubborn resolve in equal measure. He wanted that so bad, wanted to be able to put faces to your imagined kids.

It was then that Lo'ak's internal musings were abruptly interrupted by a question he hadn't quite expected to escape his lips. 

"Can I court you?" He blurted out with an enthusiasm that surprised both himself and you.

For a few moments, you could only blink at him, your eyelashes fluttering like delicate little butterflies against your cheeks. 

Lo'ak found himself unable to read the many emotions flickering behind your eyes, each one dancing like shadows cast by a flame. He instinctively braced himself for the worst possible outcome.

He already envisioned it in his mind: you breaking his heart right then and there.

Suddenly, he couldn't fathom why you'd even entertain the idea of choosing someone like him when you could have any other guy in the clan. You already captivated practically all their hearts with your enchanting charm.

Lo'ak could hear the way his friends talked about you.

They'd go on and on about how they wanted to court you, how you were the epitome of perfection–the most outstanding blend of skill, kindness, intelligence, and beauty in their entire clan. The fact that everyone seemed to agree unanimously only added fuel to the fire that burned within him.

One by one, his friends would feed off each other's tales, vividly describing outlandish affairs they'd embark on if they had the chance to spend just a single moment alone with you. 

They'd laugh and joke as if they actually deserved to know you, as if they were entitled to even think of you in that light–let alone trash your reputation with that kind of shit talk.

Lo'ak couldn't stand their crude objectification of you; it made his blood boil in a fury that few other things could elicit.

Of course, his friends weren't oblivious to Lo'ak's brooding irritation. They got a kick out of teasing him relentlessly about his proximity to their shared obsession. They'd snicker, say that they'd mate with you in a heartbeat if they were the ones who were in his position.

After what seemed like an eternity cloaked in a terrifying dread-filled silence, you finally spoke up. You had a smile plastered on your face, and the change in your demeanor instantly calmed Lo'ak's nerves about his previously posed question.

"You know, we really went about all of this completely backward," you remarked, pressing your lips together as though you were on the verge of bursting into laughter at any moment. 

Lo'ak paused to think about the story so far, and he couldn't help but agree with you wholeheartedly, because you both really did go about things the wrong way if you looked at it through the traditional lens.

You'd shared the kind of intimacy usually reserved for only the closest of couples, and that was long before you even had your first kiss, and even before you'd made anything official regarding your relationship.

But somehow, it was all okay. It should've been unnatural and off-putting, but you were best friends. It didn't feel that way at all.

Lo'ak grinned, shaking his head in amusement at the situation unfolding before him. 

"Does that mean yes?" He asked, a hopeful tone lacing his words. 

You stared back at him, your eyes twinkling with mischief and joy. It was a dance of delight you performed only for him. You tilted your head as if pondering his question; all the while, a playful smile graced your lips.

Ever so casually, you allowed your arms to loop around the back of Lo'ak's neck, pulling him into a closer embrace. Your neck had to crane upwards slightly to look him directly in the eyes.

"I kind of thought I made it painfully clear that's what I wanted," you remarked, your voice dripping with humor.

Lo'ak knew deep down that you were right. Unlike him, you always knew how to express yourself well.

He was finally aware of your desire, but he couldn't shake the nagging thought that maybe he wasn't good enough for you. Despite all the playful jokes and shared laughter, there was still a part within him that felt unworthy of you.

Determined to put an end to his tortured thoughts once and for all, he pressed further.

Itching for verbal affirmation from you yourself, he insisted, "But I need to hear you say it," His heart raced with anticipation as he nervously circled his thumb into your waist, continuing, "Wanna be sure."

You almost rolled your eyes at Lo'ak's unwavering persistence, yet deep down, you found it completely charming. You slowly inched closer to him, drawing him nearer with the hands that you had securely wrapped around the nape of his neck. 

"Yes, Lo'ak. I really want you to court me," you asserted.

Your eyes went dark as you repositioned your face to the side of Lo'ak's head, your lips brushing ever so close to his ear. You lowered your voice just enough for it to become quiet and alluring before continuing, "You have no idea how bad I want that."

Your warm breath and enticing whispers caused Lo'ak's ear to twitch with curiosity before pressing flat against his skull in rapt attention. His half-lidded eyes hungrily searched for yours in an attempt to decipher the full depth of the emotions that intertwined you both.

"Yeah?" He inquired hesitantly, his airy voice barely above a whisper, betraying his lingering disbelief. 

Even though he could feel the warmth of embarrassment coloring his cheeks, he couldn't bring himself to be concerned about it–not when your subtle nod confirmed everything he had been hoping for. 

Overwhelmed, he struggled to wrap his head around the fact that he was genuinely courting you, genuinely winning your affection. It felt surreal, as if life itself had become some incredible dream.

Unable to resist seeking further reassurance, he asked again, "Really?" 

The clueless expression on his face matched the uncertainty in his voice, making it seem like your nod was somehow insufficient evidence of your deep desire. This time, the roll of your eyes spoke volumes about your impatience with his chronic self-doubt. 

To emphasize your point, you reached up and gave a playful yank to one of the braids at the back of Lo'ak's head.

"Yes, skxawng!" you exclaimed in a tone that mixed both exasperation and fondness. 

You planted that same hand on the side of Lo'ak's neck, your eyes sparkling with mischief as you leaned in to press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, all while delicately tracing a finger down his neck. You dragged it ever so gently, creating a tantalizing path down his chest. Lo'ak felt his abdominal muscles tense as your touch glided across his sensitive skin, his eyes flicking back and forth from your face to your wandering finger. 

Your finger continued its potentially dangerous journey down his chest, your eyes following suit, your captivated gaze trailing the path you created, your lips occasionally pressing softly into the warm skin of his neck, his shoulder, his sternum. You didn't make eye contact with him until your finger finally came to rest at the edge of his loincloth.

Your eyes flickered back up to meet Lo'ak's intense gaze, which seemed to have darkened significantly, suddenly aware of the enticing predicament the two of you found yourselves in.

With a shy smile, you whispered, "I can show you how much I want you to court me." 

Your eyes batted up at him innocently, the corners of your mouth coyly curling as you spoke. Your fingertips lingered tantalizingly close to his modesty. You were so close and so fucking compelling that Lo'ak thought he might actually fall apart right there in front of you. 

Despite the overwhelming urges surging through him, Lo'ak forced himself to swallow back his desire.

In that fleeting moment, he truly wanted you to demonstrate, in detail, just how much you wanted him. It seemed like there was nothing he could desire more at that moment. 

Yet, at the same time, there was a nagging voice in the back of his mind, reminding him of a deeper goal: he wanted to do this the right way.

Lo'ak wanted to court you in the way that you deserved; he wanted to craft heartfelt gifts specifically made for you, each creation brought to life by his own two hands. He wanted to take you out on meticulously-planned date nights accompanied by shared laughter over stupid jokes and starlit strolls. He wanted to hold your hand and press tender kisses into each of your fingertips. He wanted to pull you into his own embrace, lose himself in your presence, let the outside world fade away. He wanted to take his time with you, because the two of you really had all the time in the world. 

Those other….desires….could come later—they definitely would come later.

With every ounce of his mental strength, Lo'ak tenderly took hold of your hand, softly covering it with his own larger grasp. He lifted the joined hands up and away from his vulnerable lower half.

Observing the unexpected turn of events, you creased your forehead in confusion, your lips parting in what Lo'ak knew would've been a fervent protest.

Lo'ak, no stranger to your habit of voicing your disagreement, anticipated your impending objection as he gazed into your eyes. He cradled your hand carefully between the two of your bodies, as if holding the most fragile and valuable treasure in the world.

Gently, he brought your hand closer to his face, and with a subtle but meaningful gesture, he pressed a kiss to your knuckles.

Much to Lo'ak's delight (and secret amusement), the furrow decorating your brow quickly receded like dark storm clouds parting to reveal clear skies. Your indignant protest was forgotten as you watched his display of affection with enraptured attention.

Lo'ak looked into your eyes with a burning intensity, his voice barely a whisper as he spoke, "I want you so bad, y/n. I also want to do this right." He mumbled these words into your knuckles, which were tenderly pressed against his lips.

His eyes nervously scanned your face for your reaction, unsure if you would appreciate his sentiment.

It seemed like an eternity before the confused-and-bordering-on-pissed-off look that had haunted your beautiful face began to fade away, replaced by a gentle warmth as your features softened completely. 

He felt a surge of relief wash over him like a calming wave when he saw a shy, endearing smile spread across your flushed cheeks. Lo'ak marveled at how beautiful you looked in that moment of shared vulnerability.

You gave a nod of understanding–a gesture that spoke volumes in its simplicity. In an unspoken exchange, Lo'ak felt a surge of warmth and gratitude course through him. He gave your hand–still held tightly within his–a gentle squeeze in response, silently vowing to do you right, always.

With a playful grin, Lo'ak confidently murmured, "'M gonna court you so good." He tightly wrapped his arms around you in an unexpected hug. 

Surprised but delighted, you laughed into his chest, willingly going along with the impromptu embrace. You secretly savored the feeling of being safely cocooned within his warm, strong arms, breathing in his familiar scent.

"Yeah. You better," you retorted into his chest, your voice muffled as you grinned from ear to ear.

Lo'ak's heart swelled with determination and a newfound sense of purpose. He silently vowed to himself that he would do just that. He knew that he would. His heart swelled with the certainty that he could never mess up something as special as what he shared with you. 

Lo'ak grinned from ear to ear as he pulled your head impossibly closer to his chest, provoking a groan of faux irritation from you.

You made a half-assed attempt to wriggle out of his relentless embrace before giving up with an overly dramatic sigh of defeat. Buried against his chest, Lo'ak felt, rather than saw, your warm tongue lick a wet stripe up his chest, and–did you actually think that was gonna make him let go of you?

The move didn't have the intended effect. It only prompted Lo'ak to burst into a bark of laughter that echoed throughout the canopy.

You put on a front of feigned anger that barely lasted two seconds before you surrendered to Lo'ak's contagious laughter.

With tears nearly streaming down both of your faces, your uproarious, childish giggles fueled each other like an endless feedback loop.

Whenever it seemed like the laughter was on the verge of fading away, Lo'ak would suddenly find the situation a thousand times more amusing, resulting in an uncontrollable fit of new snickers. 

This left you no choice but to pinch his back in retaliation. Your sudden retaliation in the form of this unexpected pinch caught Lo'ak off guard, which somehow only increased the humor of your bizarre circumstance. 

You found yourselves caught in this pattern for a while, your shared laughter bouncing off the surrounding leaves and echoing into the afternoon as you found endless reasons to amuse yourselves: recalling old stories from your childhoods, forming whimsically absurd theories about your future together, and chasing each other from branch to branch until Lo'ak caught you—practically folding in half in squeals and half-formed swear words as he relentlessly skated his fingers against your sides. 

As the sun dipped below the horizon and twilight settled in, your shared laughter could be heard all the way from the bottom of Hometree.

Lo'ak turned to you, a grin plastered across his face. In that moment, it was just you and Lo'ak, the same spirited, wayward kids that claimed their spot in the canopy all those years ago.

But when Lo'ak looked at you again, you weren't a kid anymore. You were a beautiful, skilled, cunning young woman, and the two of you had an entire life ahead of you.

The thought made him feel all mushy and warm inside, and he had to avert his gaze from your face. He shook his head in embarrassment as you laughed at him, reaching out to gently brush a stray braid out of his purpling face.

Fuck, he was so in love with you.

Lo'ak felt a level of contentment he hadn't experienced in what seemed like ages.

Taglist <3:

@vanillawhale, @strawberryclouds22, @countryandsweetbabygirl, @kurogxrix, @yunonaneko, @ahsatan785, @lauratstrange, @lwesodra, @kaealowri, @starboyloak

Previously: Chapter I, Chapter II, Chapter III, Chapter IV

#teyamskxawng #teyamskxawng’s fics #lo'ak x reader #lo’ak x reader #lo’ak smut #lo'ak smut #avatar the way of water #avatar #avatar 2022 #atwow #lo'ak x y/n #lo’ak x y/n #lo'ak sully #lo’ak #lo'ak fanfiction #avatar fanfiction #james cameron avatar

[fictitious-fluff]

IVE FINISHED THE GIFTTT even though its a few days late- I was your secret santa!!! Merry late Christmas XD

First time writing for tadc, was definitely interning. Might have been a little rushed and short since I had some trouble writing at the start, but I hope you like it ^^ @colinthegaycomputer hopefully I dont have any typos LOL

Tysm to @hypahticklish for hosting this @squealing-santa! Was rly funn

-

Unusual Comfort

Fandom: The Amazing Digital Circus (TADC)

No Pairings

Summary: A little situation left Pomni alone and down in the dumps. Kinger wants to help.

Word count: 827

Masterpost

Breathe.

That's what Ragatha would have said if she wasn't busy.

Jax and Zooble had been fighting and Gangle had been caught in the crossfire. Obviously, that didn't end well, with them becoming bound together. Ragatha had left Pomni near the stage while she helped the others out of a tangled gangle. A Pomni who was hyperventilating, but claimed she was alright to be left alone. She didn't want to make things worse. Ragatha didn't want to ask Kinger either. Someone who forgets what they are doing every 5 seconds would probably not be of help with the Gangle situation.

So here Pomni was, worrying over how she accidentally caused this whole mess when Gangle tripped on her. And a worried Kinger on the side of his fort.

"Hey Pomni, need some help there...?" Kinger finally walked over after contemplating for awhile. He might be mentally unstable but he still cared. He wasn't a monster...yet. "You want to come over and lie down? Relax a little?"

"H-huh? Oh. Uh s-sure I guess" She tried her best to have coherent words. Kind of hard to speak when you practically feel like you can't breathe.

Kinger put a hand behind Pomni and guided her to his pillow fort. Perhaps a little comfort could bring comfort to the poor jester.

Kinger brought out some water from his stash of snacks and handed it to Pomni. Can't have a fort without food and drinks. "Here, drink some water. It'll help to control your breathing. Drink slowly when you feel like you're breathing too fast."

Gulping down some water at first, Pomni started taking smaller sips. Eventually, her breathing did go back to normal. "Thanks.." Pomni replied, staring down at the drink.

After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, Kinger broke the ice. "Do you need anything? You seem kind of down. Well, more than usual."

"Huh? Uh, no its fine." Pomni snapped back into reality. Her brows furrowed anxiously as sweat trickled down her forehead. Great, she just loved when people recognised she was uneasy.

More uncomfortable minutes of silence prompted Kinger to remember a trick Ragatha used to do for members of the digital circus. He didn't know what would be Pomni's reaction to it but... Was worth a shot.

"Would you like me to try something? It's just a thing Ragatha used to do to cheer up others" Kinger enquired.

Pomni wasn't rly listening at this point and just gave a 'mhm' without thinking. She was pretty spaced out.

What she didn't expect was fingers curling at her sides.

"Ghk-?! H-hey, what ahare you do-dohoing?" Pomni blurted out before covering her mouth, squatting down to evade the sensations. As much as she squirmed or turned, it never stopped. The fingers just expertly moved wherever she went. It didn't give her time to get used to one feeling, skittering and spidering all over.

Kinger followed as Pomni sank down. After a few more squeezes, he opted to change tactics, scratching in the hollows of her underarms.

Occasional muffled giggles and shaky breaths slipped out from her. It was unbearable but somehow felt weirdly...good? It made her grounded, real. You can't really think of anything else besides the maddening feeling while being tickled. Still, instincts kicked in. She tried to grab one of his wrists using one hand while the other still covered her mouth.

Emphasis on tried. You can't exactly hold on to a wrist that's not there, can you?

Kinger couldn't lie, it was actually kind of fun to see their friend laughing. She'd always been so on edge, it was nice to see her letting lose. He liked to see his friends being content.

As Kinger moved to lightly dusting her neck, Pomni squealed. Both her hands darting to her neck to try and protect it. Her shoulder and nose scrunching up as she twisted and leaned forward. Panicked squeaks poured out of her, now that she wasn't covering her mouth.

"You should let loose more often like this Pomni, it suits you." Kinger commented, as if he wasn't 'torturing' her right now. "It's good seeing you actually enjoy yourself."

Though that wasn't meant as a tease, it did embarrass Pomni a little. She blushed as she still tried to move away from the wriggling fingers. Pomni batted at them half heartedly.

Not wanting to overwhelm her, Kinger decided to relent. It was suppose to cheer her up anyways. "Feeling better?"

"Yeheah. Ihi think." Residue giggles lingered as Pomni rubbed off the tingles. She felt so..light. Like a weight had been lifted off of her. Guess laughter is the best medicine sometimes.

It was weird, she hadn't thought that tickling could have an effect on her like this. Or that she didn't actually mind it. Then again, she didn't really remember her past self so she didn't have much to compare.

Kinger grinned softly as he passed Pomni some more water to cool down.

"T-thanks for that.."

"Anytime."

#tadc tickles #ler!kinger #lee!pomni #tickle fic #squealing santa 2k23 #ss2k23 #I just realised I also sent in my fic on Jan 2 last year wth #sfw tickling community #the amazing digital circus

[cum-villain]

it’s me. a hate anon. i’m being incredibly annoying about my take on fictional characters.

anyways who is a*am or whatever i want all the tea

lol oh buddy you have no idea. its been so many years of bullshit and, granted, its been a while since ive been in the trenches, but i have ALL the tea to spill. okay, so,

Sk8 the Infinity was a shounen sports anime that aired in early 2021, January to April. It followed the protagonist Reki Kyan, a 3rd-year in high school who was a skater. But this isn't just an anime about skateboarding. The grand majority of the skating took place at "S", an illegal skating course in an abandoned mine. The important races are "beefs", and there are no rules to beefs; you can injure your opponent in any way, and there's no consequences.

Some other relevant characters are: Langa Hasegawa, nicknamed SNOW, the deuteragonist; Ainosuke Shindo, ADAM, the antagonist; Tadashi Kikuchi, supporting character. Not sure whether to place him as an antagonist or protag, he kinda straddles the line.

The thing about ADAM is that he's the subversion of an all-too well known anime trope: Pedophile villain. See, while he does not in fact have those feelings towards minors in the show, he. Is very complicated. He has a whole thing where he thinks love is a good thing but also pain, because his aunts beat him and said it was because they love him and he believed them. He's also still grappling with the trauma of being "betrayed" by his childhood friend, Tadashi.

He's trying to find the EVE to his ADAM, because he hurts from being betrayed by the person he cares for most, but in reality, what he really wants is Tadashi back. But he's confused, and thinks that wanting to hurt someone means loving them. So he doesn't know what love feels like. If he thinks he "loves" himself, he hates himself and wants to hurt himself. Which. He kinda does try to kill himself sort of in the finale. It's a whole thing.

(Notice how I put "betrayed" in quotes. If you read scum villain, its a similar situation as with QiJiu. One party wanted to protect the other and failed, so they stay silent and do all they can for that person out of guilt. The other thinks the other really did betray them, and is hurt that that person is so much colder now, that the other person doesnt love them anymore.)

So, anyways. Adam is confused about what love is, and his arc in the first season was learning to not "love" people the way he does, and to accept care, even if he doesn't know it's love. When he reconciled with Tadashi in the final episode, he said "You'll be my dog for the rest of our lives", and I and everyone else in the Tadaai fandom understood he said that because 1. kinky fuckers lol 2. more relevantly, saying he loves Tadashi would be a red flag, because his definition of love is completely warped. Regardless of how he said it, the "be mine forever" was the important part. And Tadashi understood.

But most of what I'm referencing happened in the later episodes. Like I said, he was a subversion, which means that first he had to be slotted into the role before undoing it. Now I bring up The Langa Thing.

Langa was half-Canadian, and grew up in Canada. But when his father died, his mother took him back to Japan so she would have family around her in her grief. He ended up in Reki's class, and the two quickly became friends.

Reki taught Langa how to skate, but because Langa snowboarded since he was 2, he picked it up rather quickly, and even showed extreme talent. This extreme talent caught the eye of most of the skaters at S, and he earned the moniker "Snow". It also made the founder of S notice him. And that founder is Ainosuke Shindo, Adam.

Remember how I said he's trying to find his EVE? He thinks he wants an equal in skating, his only escape from his suffocating life, but he really wants Tadashi back. But he sees this genius in skating, and really is excited to skate with someone new. But he doesn't recognize it for just that, he thinks he found his "Eve". There's plenty of things he does, calling Langa "Langa-kun", being very excited to skate with Langa, giving him a bouquet of roses at one point (though one would argue that it's perfectly in line with his dramatics, hes essentially a drag king whose show is skateboarding).

All in all, there's a lot of suggestions he's attracted to Langa, but later episodes disprove that. There were other sketchy things (him saying to a middle schooler "I'll love you when you're older", but this was in reference to skateboarding, and by his definition of love, he means "yea you're too young for me to beat the crap out of you kid". Which is a perfectly normal sentiment, he just has an extremely weird way of saying it.) But... here's the thing.

There were weekly episodes.

Meaning: People pegged him as a "pedophile anime villain" type for months before his true nature was revealed. And when that evidence showed, people weren't inclined to believe it. People also thought he was Tadashi's abuser before the true nature of their relationship was revealed.

So, Adam isn't a pedophile. His relationship with Tadashi is rough, but Tadashi has full autonomy and chooses to be a part of it, and they're getting better. Adam is weird, sure, but he has reason to be that way. But the fandom lacks reading comprehension and hates to be proven wrong. So, people still think of him as a pedophilic abuser.

And like. I harken from ye olden days of Black Butler, okay. I'm not exactly put off by edenshippers (adam x langa). But for gods sake the show disproved it. Why are y'all acting like this.

So. Being known as an Adam fan is a one-way ticket to getting a bunch of harassment. Was back then, apparently still is now. I can't wait for season 2 to prove these assholes wrong.

sorry for the essay sprung on you bestie

#braincell posting #oh look an ask

[lycanlovingvampyre]

MAG 168 Relisten

Activity on my first listen: cutting the Kolkwitzia amabilis in my garden.

Ah yes, another ambiguous... thing. Roots, routes.

I feel like Martin dancing around at the beginning here, asking Jon if he‘ll gonna be okay on his own is already because he‘s jealous and he wants to bring this situation in a certain direction. It sounds like they have already talked about crossing Oliver‘s domain cause Martin knew it’s his.

MARTIN: "So, are you gonna smite him, then?" Hehe, Martin showing his petty side xD The topic is serious, but it's still funny to hear that conversation xD

MARTIN: "I know what I said, and I don’t – (sigh) I don’t know, Martin. I just – I don’t think he’s – (sigh) I don’t know; I don’t think he’s evil." Yeah, that’s also what I thought. He seems neutral? I mean he even tried to save people at first. It was a bit more unfortunate for that boat crew that they were caught up in his little breakdown… Actually how does Oliver feed the End? Is it just those little gestures like looking all sad at Jane or asking the statement giver of MAG 42 what she‘s listening?

MARTIN: (really?) "Oh, yeah, sure; he’s probably a really kind, benevolent ruler of a hellish fear prison." Martin still couldn't wrap his head around the concept of watcher and watched. He is just as much a watcher as Oliver is. Jon is a watcher, that at least he knows, I think, and he doesn't see him as evil.

Ahhh, this scene is so perfect! It's well written and funny and the acting is on point!

That little laugh when Martin is finally out of earshot xD Like „I can’t believe we actually had that conversation r.ight now”

"I have no power to stop it, and even if I did, I would not do so. For to rob a soul of death is as torturous as its inevitable coming." There’s a reason the trope of not being able to die/a fate worse than death is called And I Must Scream.

Is this statement a comment on the rise of self-diagnosing because of the Internet? There have been Hypochondriacs have been around pre-internet, so I'm not so sure about this.

"She may see Maria lying in her hospital bed, monitors crowding her as the doctors struggle to get an IV into her wildly convulsing arm. She might have a flash of Bobby, fingers tightening around the rungs of the ladder as the rusted nails give way. She often sees Dennis’s face as the knife slips eagerly between his ribs, even though he doesn’t die for hours afterwards." Jon‘s mum (surgery complication), Jon‘s dad (fell of a ladder) and Jon himself. This says that Dennis didn’t die for hours, so there’s still a chance for Jon to be saved when they‘ll arrive somewhere else!

"a) When Danika Gelsthorpe reaches the end of her Corpse Route, she will die. This new world of fear reviles death as a release, but the Coming End cannot exist without its reality. It is not a being of dangled promises and shifting torments. The certainty of death waits for all who travel the Corpse Routes, and that certainty will be delivered on, without hesitation or consideration of any other factors." That does very much make sense, otherwise it would lose the one thing the End is about.

"b) This place is a limit on the fear that can be generated from them, as their pool is necessarily finite and ultimately, however slowly, it will be exhausted. To be offset, this consideration will require the acquisition of victims from other domains as replacements, potentially inciting… bad feeling between those domains." When they run out of people, they will get them from somewhere else. Wonder what that "bad feeling between those domains" was meant to be telling us. That watchers would start wars against the End?

"c) A metaphysical quirk of this new reality’s divorce from the traditional concept of time, and – one for which I have no further explanation, means that I do not believe new humans are being created or born." This does make sense in the way of their bodies stopping metabolism. They don't need to eat, they don't need to drink, they don't need to sleep. They are frozen in time. Probably also won't age. And without aging no new life can come into being. (I also headcanon hair stopping to grow, fingernails etc.) But what about domains that feed on the fear of pregnancy or childbirth, bringing up a child? Well, we learn in MAG 178 that the Fears can create artificial people, decoys, NPCs for the sole purpose of making the real ones more afraid. I guess it would be like that.

"d) When this happens, the Great Powers themselves will also fade and die, withering away into nothingness and releasing this reality from their grip." If they need to feed on fear to survive, they will starve. Absolutely makes sense. That's also very similar to the stop-feeling-fear strategy because of which we heard a bunch of people escape their situation. There's just nothing that keeps them going.

"I… do not know how I feel about this." I love Oliver Banks. He's my favourite Avatar side-character!

"Perhaps once it might have horrified me, or given me some sense of pursuing the ultimate release of the world that you have damned." Okay, not cool, Oliver. It was Jonah Magnus who did this.

JON: "The Avatar of Death shall live. (heavy inhale) Martin’s going to be thrilled." It's so poetic, I can't imagine why Martin dislike this.

@a-mag-a-day

#a-mag-a-day #mag 168 #tma #tma spoilers

[veneataur]

Whumptober 14/31

prompt: die a hero or live long enough to become a villain

fandom: Star Wars

words: 1253

tw: medical stuff, mental illness (bipolar disorder), suicide

a/n: I think I caught all of the triggers in this one. Let me know if I need to tag something. It is a darker one than the last several. Nothing is graphic in terms of the triggers. This is more of an emotional whump. The story takes place some months after The Phantom Menace. Also, the prompt is not meant to be a characterization of bipolar disorder but of Obi-Wan's feelings about his new situation.

He comes to himself in a room in the halls of healing. It’s an odd idea really because when he thinks about it he knew he was here. He remembers being brought in against his will and strapped down to a bed. Master Che told him what she was sending through the IV but it was all nonsense to him as he argued he was fine and that she was just poisoning him. It wasn’t really his finest hour.

The nurse who comes in to check on him is all business. He doesn’t recall running into her before. She asks a few questions about how he’s feeling and checks his vitals. She doesn’t release the restraints or tell him what’s going on.

“Just tell me, is he okay? Is Anakin okay?”

“Anakin is fine,” Master Windu says. Obi-Wan looks from the nurse to the door to see Masters Windu and Che. The nurse takes their arrival as her time to leave.

“What’s going on?” Obi-Wan eyes them warily.

“First, how’re you feeling,” Che asks. She checks his chart.

“Fine. I’d like out of here and to get back to Anakin.” He tries not to be too short with them but really, he’s fine and he’d like to get back to his life rather than be chained up in here.

“That’s not going to be possible,” Windu says. Obi-Wan looks at him, hoping to get a glimpse of an emotion on the man’s normally placid face.

“Why? What’s going on?” He forces himself to speak less frantically.

“How much do you remember of what happened before you got here,” Che asks. She’s stopped looking at the chart and is now giving him an annoying patient look.

Obi-Wan pauses to think about the days leading up to him being here. They’re somewhat a blur but he does remember feeling the best he has in a long time.

“I felt fantastic, like I could take on anything and win. I don’t know that I’d ever felt that before. It was like I was high on something.”

“We thought that too, but you were clear of all drugs. The only thing in your system was alcohol.”

“I vaguely remember drinking.” Obi-Wan doesn’t like the fuzziness of his memories. He doesn’t like not feeling himself, not feeling in control, balanced. He struggles to maintain his calm demeanor. He needs to satisfy their curiosity so he can be released and get back to Anakin.

“You’ll still need an official diagnosis, but I’ve spoken with the mind healers and given this incident as well as others as brought to our attention by your friends, I believe you have a mood disorder. You've probably noticed the changing of moods. Going from extreme sad to happy.  Given your grief over losing Master Jinn, I think we all missed the signs.”

⁸Obi-Wan had long stopped paying attention. He didn't really believe her.  He couldn't have a mental illness.  He was fine. 

“No. I'm perfectly fine. It's just the stress lately. Going from padawan to having a padawan in hours takes some adjustment.” He feels his irritation rising. He’s not unfamiliar with it but he's learned to let it go rather than be controlled by it. 

“You’re not,” Windu says. “But you will be. We’ll take care of you.”

Obi-Wan isn’t sure whether to be comforted or wary of the way Master Windu tells him that. He does see, however, that he has little choice in the matter.

When Obi-Wan is finally released days later and after daily visits with the mind healer, he collapses on his couch. The apartment is empty. He knew it would be but experiencing it makes it reality.

Yes, this is his new reality. Closely monitored solitude. Truly solitude as he can barely even feel his fellow Jedi. Part of his treatment as his mind healer said, was wearing a force inhibitor. The setting was adjustable. At the moment his healer felt it best to place it at the most restrictive so Obi-Wan could deal with his own emotions and not be concerned with others.

It's bullshit but refusal would see him back in his room in the halls. That’s the last place he wants to wind up in again. He’d be locked up and the few times he would get visitors they’d just nurses checking on his vitals or one of his friends giving him concerned looks and wary glances when they think he’s not looking. Seriously, did they think he became a different person because he had this mental illness? He’s still the same person he was before.

He’s not usually a drinker and he knows that he’s prohibited from alcohol, but he could use something to drown his sorrows in. He pushes himself to his feet, finding that simple movement is a struggle. It’s been like this for the last week. His healer says he’s in a depressive episode now. Honestly, Obi-Wan can’t argue with that much, but it’s not an episode, he’s not on some kind of pendulum swinging back and forth between emotional extremes. He knows what they’ve told him, but he still can’t really believe it. It’s just the stress. Once it’s gone, he’ll be better.

The cupboard where he stores his alcohol is dry. Fury building, he decides to look in a few others as a precaution because maybe he moved it, or Anakin did. But no. Its gone. He didn’t have a lot of alcohol and now he has none because those clowns think that he’ll get drunk and go have another manic episode. What do they know. He was just having a good time.

“Bastards,” Obi-Wan says. First, they take Anakin, then his Force, his freedom, and now they invade his privacy? He sinks to the floor, anger, anguish, heartache all mixing together. He pulls his legs in tight, wrapping his arms around his legs as he messily sobs into his knees.

He knows that they’re afraid of him. They’re afraid of what he might do, what he might influence others to do because of his episodes. They don’t trust him. That’s why they took Anakin away and made him break his promise. He hasn’t even been able to see the young boy. He knows Anakin was witness to some of his last episode. According to Master Windu, Anakin had been witness to more and was terrified of him.

Honestly, Obi-Wan was terrified of himself, too. What was he going to become? What did it mean when the people he trusted the most took away his student, his freedom, and the Force? He was dangerous. Poison in the system. That’s why they secluded him. It’s not for his own good but for theirs. Look at Anakin. He’d already scared the young boy so badly he didn’t want to see him.

It wasn’t fair. Anakin hadn’t deserved it. That must’ve been where Anakin got the fear that Yoda sensed in him, the danger. It was from Obi-Wan. What would he do to the next person? Anakin was lucky to have Yoda teaching him now. Obi-Wan couldn’t guarantee that of the next person to have the misfortune of meeting him.

His mind drifts for a few moments from one mindless thought to another. And then he decides. In the cupboard next to where he kept the alcohol, he has some left-over pills.

Obi-Wan doesn’t know who finds him. He doesn’t ask. But he’s back at square one and the only coherent thought is what will he become if he lets this continue.

#whumptober2022 #no.14 #die a hero or live long enough to become a villain #star wars #fic #medical #mental illness #bipolar disorder #suicide #fanfiction #emotional whump #obi wan kenobi

[the-king-andthe-lionheart]

The Fundamentals of Gendrya

So I just want to establish the possible foreshadowing Arya and Gendry have that hints at a possible romantic relationship in the future, as well as the romantic undertones present in their story.  I’m not really going to focus on symbolism in this meta (although it will come up a couple of times in a minor way), as that will be a focus for future meta.  This is only meant to establish the fundamental basics.

First I want to say that when I’m talking about the romantic possibility of Gendrya, I mean future Gendrya, as in once Arya is older.  However I will posit and say that because we are viewing this in the world of Westeros (in a pseudo Medieval world that GRRM exaggerated and sensationalized from real Medieval sources as well as rumor) and because GRRM has established he has no problems with placing his younger characters in romantic or sexual situations (see Mercy TWOW) I think it would be remiss to think GRRM would not take Arya and Gendry here if that was his plan all along.  After all, there is plenty of precedent.  

This also leads me to remind everyone that Gendry is not an adult when he meets Arya, and the age gap between the two is one of the least egregious age gaps in the books as most of the age gaps are between adult men in their 20’s and 30’s with 12-16 year old girl’s.  I think a lot of people think of the age gap as Arya being 9 the whole time and Gendry being 16, but this is in fact wrong.  According to the timeline, Arya and Gendry meet at the beginning of 299 AC, right around Arya’s 10th birthday.  In 299 AC Gendry was only 13/14 years old.  He was born in 284 AC and is not the same age as Robb and Jon, like Ned surmises.  Gendry is just big for his age, and it’s highly likely Gendry doesn’t even know how old he is.  When Arya and Gendry separate in ASOS Arya is almost 11 while Gendry is 14/15 years old.  

Regardless, this is fiction, and doesn’t reflect real world morals.  So what I’m getting at is that if anyone disagrees with this meta because of their ages I suggest you don’t read any further.

Foreshadowing

Our first hint of foreshadowing happens in Arya’s very first chapter:

She frowned down at them with dismay and glanced over to where her sister Sansa sat among the other girls.  Sansa's needlework was exquisite.  Everyone said so.  “Sansa's work is as pretty as she is,” Septa Mordane told their lady mother once.  “She has such fine, delicate hands.”  When Lady Catelyn had asked about Arya, the septa had sniffed.  “Arya has the hands of a blacksmith.” - Arya I AGOT

This quote is later followed up with:

[...] “I ruined that gown Lady Smallwood gave me, and I don't sew so good.”  She chewed her lip.  “I don't sew very well, I mean.  Septa Mordane used to say I had a blacksmith's hands.”

Gendry hooted.  “Those soft little things,” he called out.  “You couldn't even hold a hammer.” - Arya VII ASOS

In the same book Lem Lemoncloak says this to Gendry:

“You must be a lackwit, boy,” said Lem.  “We're outlaws.  Lowborn scum, most of us, except for his lordship.  Don't think it'll be like Tom's fool songs neither.  You won't be stealing no kisses from a princess, nor riding in no tourneys in stolen armor.  You join us, you'll end with your neck in a noose, or your head mounted up above some castle gate.” - Arya VII ASOS

At this point Arya is indeed a princess, but Lem also makes an obvious reference (to the audience) to the Knight of the Laughing Tree, which I think we can safely say was Lyanna.  The fact that Lyanna is Arya’s literary mirror, tells me we can connect Arya to Lem’s comment, not to mention the inclusion of “princess” just kind of seals the deal.  We also know that Arya is the spitting image of Lyanna and Gendry the spitting image of Robert Baratheon.  I think it’s worth noting also that after Acorn Hall, Lem takes it upon himself to make sure nothing untoward happens between Arya and Gendry (he thought Gendry was taking advantage of Arya after they wrestled) as he starts sleeping in between them, which is seen in Arya V ASOS when they are at The Peach.  Lem saying “Don’t think it’ll be like Tom’s fool songs neither” is also interesting because at Acorn Hall we specifically get Tom singing a love song directed towards Arya and Gendry.

Speaking of Lyanna and Robert being reflections of Arya (in both appearance and personality) and Gendry (in appearance for the most part) this is said in Eddard I AGOT:

We were meant to rule together. If Lyanna had lived, we should have been brothers, bound by blood as well as affection. Well, it is not too late. I have a son. You have a daughter. My Joff and your Sansa shall join our houses, as Lyanna and I might once have done."

Now this quote may be referring to Sansa and Joffrey, but I do think it’s foreshadowing for Gendrya and this is just a misdirect.  After all, Joffrey is not Robert Baratheon’s son by blood, but Gendry is, even though he is illegitimate.  To me this also sounds like a promise.  When you think about it, the story truly begins at the Tourney of Harrenhal with the events that broke the betrothal between Lyanna and Robert, so it would be very cyclical for the ending to do what the beginning could not, binding a Stark and a Baratheon together in marriage.

There are also several references about Arya marrying an apprentice/blacksmith:

“[...] Or if it is marriage and children you desire, tell me, and we shall find a husband for you.  Some honest apprentice boy, a rich old man, a seafarer, whatever you desire.” - Arya II AFFC

We also have a comment made by Jaime:

“Not all,” said Jaime.  “Lord Eddard's daughters live.  One has just been wed.  The other...”  Brienne, where are you?  Have you found her?  “...if the gods are good, she'll forget she was a Stark.  She'll wed some burly blacksmith or fat-faced innkeep, fill his house with children, and never need to fear that some knight might come along to smash their heads against a wall.” - Jaime I ADWD

Now I know what you are going to say, that Jaime is referring to Sansa possibly marrying a blacksmith or innkeep, but if it weren’t for Jaime’s thought’s in the middle towards Brienne, you’d never guess which Stark daughter he is referring to because Sansa was only just recently married as well.  Also it’s Arya who is associated with a blacksmith (Gendry) and a fat-faced innkeep (Hot Pie).  So while Jaime is referring to Sansa here I think we are meant to actually look at the reality behind this and reverse the foreshadowing back onto Arya, because it wasn’t Arya who was recently wed, that was Sansa.  It’s also Arya who is legitimately trying to forget she was a Stark (Sansa isn’t trying to forget, she is only pretending to be Alayne to ensure her protection) and like I mentioned it’s Arya who had a blacksmith and future employee at an inn as companions for two novels.  So I think it’s a foreshadowing switcheroo.  And I think it’s also worth mentioning that while Jaime sent Brienne out to save Sansa, Brienne spends her whole journey almost exclusively hearing news and following leads about Arya.

There is also a reference in Brienne VII AFFC that makes mention that Arya may marry an apprentice boy:

Gendry was the closest thing to a man grown, but it was Willow shouting all the orders, as if she were a queen in her castle and the other children were no more than servants.

If she were highborn, command would come naturally to her, and deference to them.  Brienne wondered whether Willow might be more than she appeared.  The girl was too young and too plain to be Sansa Stark, but she was of the right age to be the younger sister, and even Lady Catelyn had said that Arya lacked her sister's beauty.  Brown hair, brown eyes, skinny...could it be?  Arya Stark's hair was brown, she recalled, but Brienne was not sure about the color of her eyes.  Brown and brown, was that it?  Could it be that she did not die at Saltpans after all?

*

“One day that little girl [Willow] will make some man a frightful wife,” Ser Hyle observed.  “That poor 'prentice boy [Gendry], most like.”

Willow is very obviously a Arya stand-in which makes this specific quote about Arya and Gendry, not Willow and Gendry.

Arya IV ASOS has the strongest case for future romantic Gendrya.  Not only does Gendry follow after Arya and invite her to look at the forge, Gendry opens up to her about his life right before he was uprooted, and does this:

Gendry reached out with the tongs as if to pinch her face, but Arya swatted them away.

Gendry is being playful and open with Arya during most of this scene in the forge, teasing her in a manner that verges on flirting, telling her a story about his past, laughing and having fun with Arya.  And then this happens:

Gendry put the hammer down and looked at her.  “You look different now.  Like a proper little girl.”

“I look like an oak tree, with all these stupid acorns.”

“Nice, though.  A nice oak tree.”  He stepped closer, and sniffed at her.  “You even smell nice for a change.”

“You don't.  You stink.”  Arya shoved him back against the anvil and made to run, but Gendry caught her arm.  She stuck a foot between his legs and tripped him, but he yanked her down with him, and they rolled across the floor of the smithy.  He was very strong, but she was quicker.  Every time he tried to hold her still she wiggled free and punched him.  Gendry only laughed at the blows, which made her mad.  He finally caught both her wrists in one hand and started to tickle her with the other, so Arya slammed her knee between his legs, and wrenched free.  Both of them were covered in dirt, and one sleeve was torn on her stupid acorn dress.  “I bet I don't look so nice now,” she shouted.

Gendry compliments Arya’s looks and scent, only for Arya to think he’s teasing her about her appearance due to her intense insecurity when it comes to highborn conformation (Gendry’s laugh when he first saw her didn’t help matters in her insecurity even though Gendry most likely only laughed out of being startled at her transformation).  This insecurity leads Arya into getting angry and starting a wrestling match with him.  This wrestling scene also directly follows Jaime and Brienne’s very sexually charged sword fight, and could also be interpreted as foreshadowing a romantic and potentially sexual relationship in the future, like theirs did, when they are older.  

Now I’m not saying that I think Gendrya is going to go NC-17 in the books, but I do think it’s likely to go PG-13 by the end of ADOS, considering we have precedent that GRRM has no qualms about writing these types of things as I mentioned above, and we know Arya is going to be 12 in TWOW and may be at least 14-15 when the series ends depending on how much GRRM can spread out the timeline in the next two books.  But considering the amount of stuff that needs to happen, I think the next two books will span 2-3 years before the epilogue begins.

Then there is the love song GRRM specifically wrote for Arya.  A song that has only appeared in one chapter, Arya’s chapter:

“My featherbed is deep and soft,

and there I'll lay you down,

I'll dress you all in yellow silk,

and on your head a crown.

For you shall be my lady love,

and I shall be your lord.

I'll always keep you warm and safe,

and guard you with my sword.

“And how she smiled and how she laughed,

the maiden of the tree.

She spun away and said to him,

no featherbed for me.

I'll wear a gown of golden leaves,

and bind my hair with grass,

But you can be my forest love,

and me your forest lass.”

Now we know this song is about them because when Tom O’Sevens is singing it, he winks at Arya, and later Lady Smallwood specifically says to Arya “I have no gowns of leaves”.  The song specifically mentions yellow – a Baratheon color – and depicts the free spirited “Maiden of the Tree” who wants love on her own terms, which sounds like what an older, flowered version of Arya would want if she fell in love.

Romantic Undertones

Arya’s Crush

As she passed the armory, Arya heard the ring of a hammer. A deep orange glow shone through the high windows. She climbed to the roof and peeked down. Gendry was beating out a breastplate. When he worked, nothing existed for him but metal, bellows, fire. The hammer was like part of his arm. She watched the play of muscles in his chest and listened to the steel music he made. He's strong, she thought. As he took up the long-handled tongs to dip the breastplate into the quenching trough, Arya slithered through the window and leapt down to the floor beside him. - Arya IX ACOK

It’s very subtle but this paragraph tells us everything.  Arya unintentionally reveals in this quote that she watches Gendry blacksmithing enough to know that the world falls away when he’s in his element.  She watches the play of muscles in his back and notes how strong he is and even attaches poetic language to his work.  Arya has a crush on Gendry.  It’s not acknowledged and it’s likely she doesn’t understand it herself, but this seems to be the truth of it, especially with the way GRRM worded this.  I don’t know how many times I’ve read a romance where the protagonist studies their love interest while watching the “play of muscles” in their back or their arms.  It’s also interesting to note that Arya always mentions specifics about Gendry’s looks and notes details about him:

He blinked at her, startled. Strands of thick black hair, still wet from the bathhouse, fell across his deep blue eyes. "I'd hurt you." - Arya II ACOK

"It's me they want," Arya whispered back. His ear smelled of soap. "You be quiet." - Arya II ACOK

When she spied Gendry, his bare chest was slick with sweat, but the blue eyes under the heavy black hair had the stubborn look she remembered. - Arya VIII ACOK

"She's not alone." Gendry rode out from behind the cottage wall, and behind him Hot Pie, leading her horse. In his chainmail shirt with a sword in his hand, Gendry looked almost a man grown, and dangerous. Hot Pie looked like Hot Pie. - Arya II ASOS

Now most of these I’d normally chalk up to the author just being descriptive, but if that’s the case, why don’t we know more about Hot Pie’s looks, who Arya spent nearly a year with at the same time as Gendry?  Why does she take special time out to describe Gendry so much?  Honestly I think part of it is to keep reminding us that Gendry is a secret Baratheon bastard, but that doesn’t explain the first quote about Arya watching the “play of muscles” in his back and noting how strong he is.  So I think it’s a combination of GRRM wanting to remind the audience that Gendry is a Baratheon and to also subtly show us that Arya has an innocent crush on him, but doesn’t know or acknowledge that this is the case out loud.

Their Mutual Jealousy

Starting after the events of Acorn Hall in Arya IV ASOS, it’s obvious that something shifts in Arya and Gendry’s relationship.  One aspect is that Gendry can no longer ignore that Arya is indeed a highborn girl after seeing her for the first time dressed up as one.  He knows what class differences will mean for their friendship.  And another aspect, is that Gendry acknowledges that he may be romantically interested in Arya, or at least acknowledges the potential for those feelings to emerge in time.  And because of this, combined with their class differences, Gendry knows that if he follows Arya to Riverrun where her mother and brother are, he would end up watching Arya grow into someone he could romantically love, only for her to be torn away from him due to an arranged marriage.  Both of these aspects play a factor in why we see Gendry become more outwardly scathing towards highborns in the chapters following this and why his behavior seems to become one rife with jealousy.

In Arya V ASOS the Brotherhood Without Banners travel to The Peach and both of the above aspects I spoke of are present in this chapter:

"You don't even know what a brothel is."

"I do so," she insisted. "It's like an inn, with girls."

He was turning red again. "What are you doing here, then?" he demanded. "A brothel's no fit place for no bloody highborn lady, everybody knows that."

And when Gendry protects Arya from a pervert by saying that she’s his sister, this is what goes down:

"Why did you say that?" Arya hopped to her feet. "You're not my brother."

"That's right," he said angrily. "I'm too bloody lowborn to be kin to m'lady high."

Arya was taken aback by the fury in his voice. "That's not the way I meant it."

"Yes it is." He sat down on the bench, cradling a cup of wine between his hands. "Go away. I want to drink this wine in peace. Then maybe I'll go find that black-haired girl and ring her bell for her."

Arya doesn’t really understand the intentions of the pervert, despite knowing of sex, and is confused on why Gendry would say that he’s her brother, but when she asks him, he takes it the wrong way since he is already so sensitive about their class differences at this point in their story.  That last paragraph is what makes this exchange really interesting though.  Why would Gendry say this, when it’s already made clear and established in this chapter that Gendry has no intentions of sleeping with any of the girls, even when it’s offered to him for free?  He is very obviously lying to try to get a rise out of Arya and the only way this makes sense is if we put it under a romantic lens.

Then we have this:

Arya whirled and left him there. A stupid bullheaded bastard boy, that's all he is. He could ring all the bells he wanted, it was nothing to her.

Now considering Arya’s defense mechanism (the mechanism that has her calling things or people stupid when she’s hurt or feeling inadequate by them to try to make the pain and hurt not seem so severe) the fact that she calls Gendry a “stupid bullheaded bastard boy” and proclaims Gendry ringing the bells of any girl was “nothing to her” tells us that it matters to her and that she’s upset.  This is further reiterated in Arya VIII ASOS:

Arya wished she had another crabapple to bounce off his face. "My father had honor," she said angrily. "And we weren't talking to you anyway. Why don't you go back to Stoney Sept and ring that girl's stupid bells?"

So here we have Arya mention this three chapters later, likely weeks if not months later.  If Arya didn’t care about Gendry ringing “all the bells he wanted” then why is she still so hurt and jealous?  She’s obviously been stewing about this for a while.

In this same chapter we also see gems from Gendry that clearly proclaim that he’s still plagued about his class differences to Arya.  It also clearly shows that Gendry is jealous of Edric Dayne once Arya befriends him, especially since she befriended someone highborn, like her, who just so happens to be a boy who we know has nearly the same coloring as Rhaegar Targaryen, which evokes the history repeating motif that is present in Arya’s arc of the Rhaegar/Lyanna/Robert love triangle.

"You have a knife," Gendry suggested. "If your hair annoys you so much, shave your bloody head."

He doesn't like Ned. The squire seemed nice enough to Arya; maybe a little shy, but good-natured. She had always heard that Dornishmen were small and swarthy, with black hair and small black eyes, but Ned had big blue eyes, so dark that they looked almost purple. And his hair was a pale blond, more ash than honey. - Arya VIII ASOS

And

"My lady?" Ned looked embarrassed. "I'm Edric Dayne, the . . . the Lord of Starfall."

Behind them, Gendry groaned. "Lords and ladies," he proclaimed in a disgusted tone. Arya plucked a withered crabapple off a passing branch and whipped it at him, bouncing it off his thick bull head. "Ow," he said. "That hurt." He felt the skin above his eye. "What kind of lady throws crabapples at people?"

"The bad kind," said Arya, suddenly contrite. 

Gendry continues to encapsulate “ours is the fury” during Arya’s whole exchange with Edric Dayne.

I do want to add that I know Gendry’s class issues have always been there, and it’s definitely been made even more apparent to him during the War of the Five Kings during his time in the wartorn Riverlands with Arya, so it’s not exactly that far-fetched that Gendry may become even more sensitive and/or bitter about it.  However, this extremity of his behavior only happened after Acorn Hall where he saw Arya looking like the highborn girl she is.  And while I do believe part of Gendry’s increase of bitterness about their class differences does have to do with potential romantic feelings, I also think it has to do with Gendry also coming to terms with the fact that Arya’s family is also directly responsible for the carnage they have seen and experienced (even though he doesn’t blame Arya, as she seems to be one of Gendry’s exceptions when it comes to his dislike of the nobility).  If it weren’t for the blatant flirting on his behalf in the forge at Acorn Hall and the jealousy, I would honestly chalk it up to Gendry trying to reconcile his own trauma and anger regarding highborns, including Arya’s family’s sins, but alas, that is not completely the case.

Post Separation

When Arya is kidnapped by the Hound and witnesses the Red Wedding, Arya contemplates where she may go and this crosses her thoughts in a very romanticized light:

She could stay with Hot Pie, or maybe Lord Beric would find her there. Anguy would teach her to use a bow, and she could ride with Gendry and be an outlaw, like Wenda the White Fawn in the songs.

But that was just stupid, like something Sansa might dream. - Arya XII ASOS

The fact that Arya follows this thought up with “that was just stupid, like something Sansa might dream” tells us specifically what type of fantasy this is.  Arya isn’t fantasizing about an adventure, she’s fantasizing about love and romance, considering those are the types of flights of fancy Sansa always loses herself in.  Now Arya isn’t outright rejecting the possibility of romance here, because there is more to that second paragraph:

But that was just stupid, like something Sansa might dream. Hot Pie and Gendry had left her just as soon as they could, and Lord Beric and the outlaws only wanted to ransom her, just like the Hound. None of them wanted her around. They were never my pack, not even Hot Pie and Gendry. I was stupid to think so, just a stupid little girl, and no wolf at all.

She rejects the possibility because she remembers that Hot Pie and Gendry abandoned her as soon as they could, and that all the Brotherhood did was use her, according to her perspective on the matter.  And her perspective is entirely skewed because of her abandonment and low self-esteem issues, as well as not fully understanding the class issues as she honestly didn’t think that bringing Hot Pie and Gendry to Riverrun and Winterfell would cause any issues with their friendships, which is understandable for a kid to think.  Especially one that hadn’t been in the highborn world for the past year and a half.  In fact, Medieval children in the real world and in the books, weren’t reprimanded for playing together regardless of class, usually the highborn children played with the children of those who worked and lived within the castle walls, from other lords children to stewards children to the helps children.  It’s just something children did until they reached a certain age where it just wasn’t allowed anymore.  So it’s only natural for this not to really factor into Arya’s plans.

When Arya is about to walk into the House of Black and White, Arya comforts her fear with a memory of Gendry:

Suddenly she was somewhere else . . . back in Harrenhal with Gendry [...] - Arya I AFFC

Which indicates that Gendry is still very much on her mind at this point.  I think it really says something as well that Arya takes comfort from a memory at Harrenhal of all places.  I think this indicates how much comfort she took from their friendship.  I also think she doesn’t think about Gendry with the Brotherhood to take her comfort because while ASOS has the most romantic foreshadowing for them and the two shared some nice moments, it was also the start of them truly fracturing, or so her unreliable narration interpreted it as.  After all, she actually thought that Gendry was making fun of her looks at Acorn Hall, and she thought Gendry didn’t want to be her friend anymore as he “abandoned her” for the Brotherhood.  So while Harrenhal was awful and they had their disagreements there, Arya still felt reassured with his companionship and likely found it uncomplicated in comparison to her other problems at the time.

*

When we next see Gendry in Brienne VII AFFC we see a drastically different Gendry.  While Gendry has always been guarded and sullen with a chip on his shoulder, with little love for the nobility, this change is drastic enough where it’s unsettling to read at first.  Not only is Gendry just flat out rude in a very mean way but he is filled with rage.  Gendry joined the Brotherhood because he liked how they handled justice, but under Lady Stoneheart there is no justice and he doesn’t seem to mind.  His beliefs have shifted as well.

And though his eyes had been that same deep blue, Lord Renly's eyes had always been warm and welcoming, full of laughter, whereas this boy's eyes brimmed with anger and suspicion.

Septon Meribald asked if he might lead the children in a grace, ignoring the small girl crawling naked across the table. "Aye," said Willow, snatching up the crawler before she reached the porridge. So they bowed their heads together and thanked the Father and the Mother for their bounty . . . all but the black-haired boy from the forge, who crossed his arms against his chest and sat glowering as the others prayed. Brienne was not the only one to notice. When the prayer was done Septon Meribald looked across the table, and said, "Do you have no love for the gods, son?"

"Not for your gods." Gendry stood abruptly. "I have work to do." He stalked out without a bite of food.

Gendry was at his forge, bare-chested beneath his leather apron. He was beating on a sword as if he wished it were a foe [...]

What would a knight be doing working at a smithy? "You have black hair and blue eyes, and you were born in the shadow of the Red Keep. Has no one ever remarked upon your face?"

"What's wrong with my face? It's not as ugly as yours."

Lord Renly was ahead of her, her sweet smiling king. He was leading her horse through the trees. Brienne called out to tell him how much she loved him, but when he turned to scowl at her, she saw that he was not Renly after all. Renly never scowled. He always had a smile for me, she thought . . . except . . .

While some people chalk up Gendry’s behavior as a result of trauma about what he experienced in the Riverlands, and I don’t deny that is a factor, I don’t believe it’s the only factor because we didn’t see Gendry like this post Harrenhal or even with the Brotherhood in ASOS.  Yes he embodied “ours is the fury” at times and was jealous and bitter, and rude at times as well, but he wasn’t flat out cruel to people, nor filled with rage and vengeance.  The Gendry before Arya was taken would never have led Brienne to Lady Stoneheart for the slaughter after she tried to save everyone in that Inn against Rorge and Biter and co.  We can also see another difference in Gendry:

Lightning cracked to the south as the riders swung down off their horses. For half a heartbeat darkness turned to day. An axe gleamed silvery blue, light shimmered off mail and plate, and beneath the dark hood of the lead rider Brienne glimpsed an iron snout and rows of steel teeth, snarling.

Gendry saw it too. "Him."

While there is no emphasis on the “him” when Gendry sees the Hound’s helm, it’s an abrupt and emotionless statement.  It’s one word without emphasis but it conveys a lot.  Gendry recognizes the Hound’s helm and it’s apparent he’s not happy, thinking that it was indeed the Hound for a minute.  And while I’m trying to avoid discussing symbolism, I just can’t ignore how the lightning that cracked in the south could also be symbolic of Gendry’s true mood.  He is, after all, a bastard Baratheon, connected to the storm, the fury - thunder and lightning - as well as sharing a connection to the god, Thor in our mythology.  This lightning could symbolically be linked to Gendry’s anger and vengeance.  So why does Gendry act like this when he sees who he thinks is the Hound again?  He had no issue with the Hound during his trial by combat, so what changed?  The Hound kidnapped Arya.  And while he knows Arya didn’t die at the Red Wedding, he and the Brotherhood aren’t entirely sure if the Hound sold Arya to the Lannister’s and if she is now Arya Bolton.  So it makes complete sense why he would have issues with the Hound.  In fact I think a lot of this behavior we are seeing from Gendry is the direct result of the Hound kidnapping Arya and not knowing if she’s dead or being brutally raped and tortured in the North.

Why do I think this?  Because this behavior began between Arya being kidnapped in ASOS and Brienne VII AFFC.  Only a few to a handful of months have passed since then.  This, I believe, is the inciting incident.  Another reason why I believe Arya is the reason is because of what he is doing.  He is staying at the Crossroads Inn, one of the last known places Arya was sighted, and he’s helping take care of orphaned children.  Arya took in strays as well and cared for them, like Weasel.  And considering how Gendry in ACOK wanted to leave Weasel and Hot Pie and Lommy behind, it’s interesting to see that he’s helping by taking in strays himself now, as if he thinks he may be able to atone for not saving Arya.  Another reason is because the Brotherhood is actively searching for Arya as well.  She is ever present on their minds.  So yes, I believe part of Gendry’s change has to do with losing Arya, which goes to show how much he really cared about her.  Not to mention (a tiny bit more symbolism, oopsie!), Gendry’s stay at the inn, waiting for Arya to return (I believe Gendry and the BWB are hoping that Arya is alive and will return to the inn) is a romantic aspect to the mythology of Weyland the Smith and his Swan Maiden/Valkyrie, and the aspect about the Brotherhood + Gendry searching the realm for Arya is also a romantic Cinderella motif, hence why I feel Gendry’s behavior here is supposed to have romantic subtext.

*

Extra:  Another interesting aspect that I think foreshadows this future relationship is the meaning of Gendry’s name.  Gendry is a nickname type of surname for a person who has inherited his family estates from his father-in-law, deriving its origin from the Old French word “gendre,” which meant “son-in-law.”  And as we know if Arya and Gendry married when they were older, Arya wouldn’t be taking his name, but he hers, due to her higher status.  So by marrying into the Stark family, he would be inheriting from his father-in-law Ned so to speak, even if it’s just inheriting the surname.

So this is everything I’ve compiled so far about Gendrya, that relies on just their foreshadowing and romantic undertones in the texts we have available but I’m positive I’ll be adding more to this list once TWOW officially releases.  However, I still have a lot more to share that focuses on their symbolism and motifs throughout the story, so I’m definitely not done making Gendrya meta, far from it and I can’t wait to share it with you all!  

And if anyone is interested in Arya’s and by extension Gendrya’s Cinderella motifs, you can find it at this link:  A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes.

#arya stark #gendry waters #gendry baratheon #gendrya #asoiaf

[angelicmichael]

my mind forgets to remind me - you're a bad idea w andy 😳👉👈

A/N: Thank u sm for sending this!! You had no idea how happy this made me to write :’) I’m sorry it took me a min tho lmao. The prompt is from Eva’s taylor swift prompt list 😌, but also - I tried to make this fluffy but there is some angst 🤐 actually a lot of angst.. I’m so sorry djdjd. The dynamic /overall relationship is very much like my other Andy fic ngl.. which I wanted to point out haha. This is also probably the most unedited thing ive ever uploaded so plz dont judge my writing too harshly 😭 Otherwise enjoy! <3

Warnings: kinda slow burn?, pining, angstt, Hedwig slander, brief conflict, some fluff hehe, friends to lovers, jealous! reader

You heard the rumors.

Andy Dolan was with Hedwig.

To be completely honest; even without the rumors it was painfully obvious how much truth those words had behind them.. You saw how they acted together. How Andy’s eyes, which were normally filled with torment, finally got some light to them whenever he looked at her; how he was so careful to never disagree with a single fucking word she said or demand she made.. happy to oblige as long as it meant she was his and wouldn’t leave him.

It made you sick.

You hated the kind of person Andy Dolan was making you become.. Seeing your best friend with someone like Hedwig, so selfish and narrow minded made you beyond pissed. But regardless; anger wasn’t the main emotion that you felt when you were with Andy. That was only a result of seeing him with someone else.. someone who wasn’t you.

Trying to deny your feelings was redundant but so was the obvious truth; that he was with Hedwig.

It was something that even though you were nearly positive was certain, you were terrified to confront him over. You were scared that you would finally be the one he would take his anger out on.. He would finally get tired of seeing you and entertaining your prescience when he had no real reason too.

After all; you knew why he commonly enjoyed the presence of Women.. and now that he was taken, you weren’t needed.

Simple as that.

Or that’s what you feared, anyway. That wasn’t actually reality.

Andy Dolan (to your surprise) invited you over for the night.. something that you really thought nothing of until you saw him.

He looked serious; something that was not uncharacteristic of him but it still kept you on edge. Perhaps because you were waiting for him to speak.. wanting desperately to know why Andy had chosen to call you and not Hedwig.

“I’m sorry for calling you over so late,” He started.

He avoided eye contact.. pacing around his room as he stood over currently one of his nightstands.. you sat on his bed - paranoia still clouding your fair judgement.

“It’s okay,” you said.. even though it really wasn’t.

You wanted him to turn around. To make eye contact with you and to tell you directly why exactly he had chosen to call you over, because that reason was starting to become painfully obvious.

“I just couldn’t sleep,” He turned around, his gaze slowly averting from the floor to meet yours. You struggled to see whether he was actually looking at you or not since the lights were off - leaving the two of you in a completely dark room.

You stayed silent for a moment - quietly calculating what you wanted to say next and how you wanted to say it.

Was it insomnia that kept him up?? Nightmares?? And why wasn’t he calling Hedwig or some other girl to help him with this issue?

Why you?

Why now?

“Andy.. since when did you ever have insomnia?” You confronted him carefully.

His eyes, which finally started to come into focus, peered up at you almost in a guilty manner.. as if you had caught him straight in a lie.

You were scared of being too direct at first. Scared that you would set him off and he would ‘force’ you to leave and that would be that.. Because even though being next to Andy was torture; being next to him like this.. in the dark, late at night with no one else around where you two could just talk.. was all that you ever wanted, as corny as it kinda sounded.

“You think I’m lying?” He bit back.

“I never said that, I just.. I don’t know why you would choose to call me instead of someone else-“

“I can’t call Hedwig for everything, (y/n). She only likes to stick around when she’s getting paid,” He says with a snort.

You bit your lip when you heard him say her name.. ‘Hedwig’. He knew exactly what you were getting at.

Fuck.

You wanted to apologize for being irrational and for jumping to conclusions but you didn’t. Apologizing felt wrong in this situation.. this wasn’t about you.

“How did you know I meant Hedwig?” You inquired wholeheartedly.

You could now make out the entire dim outline of his body as he continued to stand by his nightstand, watching you for any sudden movements or - really movement at all.

It was completely unbeknownst to you but Andy felt terrified.

Anxiety was never a feeling he was ever completely unaccustomed too; the constant burden and paranoia of everyone he ever remotely liked leaving him was a reality he had to face more than twice.. perhaps even more now if he actually followed through on his plans tonight, with you.

The paralyzing fear he felt that only grew stronger with every step he took closer to you was nearly too much.. it threatened to consume him - nearly bringing tears to his eyes just at the mere thought of you leaving and rejecting him.

He never felt more fucking ridiculous and dramatic in his life.

“Why do you care so much about Hedwig? I sure don’t, She never gave a fuck about me.. not really. After all - there’s a reason I chose to call you.”

“Oh yeah? And what’s your reason?” You challenged.

You expected for him to recite some bullshit he didn’t really mean. Something to make the two of you feel a bit better about the current predicament you were in but, his next words were sweeter and softer than anything you were willing to anticipate.

Your breath caught in your throat as he slowly approached you. He was realistically only a few steps away but every step he took seemed to take a eternity.. like he couldn’t possibly get to you soon enough while simultaneously being too far away.

His steps continued until his feet bumped into yours - his sock covered feet accidentally bumping into your shoes.

Suddenly confused at the sudden accident.. you tilted your head up unexpectedly, before catching his gaze only briefly before you did the unthinkable.. pressing your lips to his in something that was just short of a rational decision.

You waited at first for him to pull away - scared to let yourself become fully swept away by the moment but.. it happened anyway.

Andy’s hands quickly touched your back as his lips started to move slowly and sweetly against yours. Seemingly savoring every moment he now had with you; one that perhaps he thought too, would never get a chance to experience.

You pulled away just before you felt him try to deepen the kiss even further. Only to take a deep, steady breath before leaning in once more. Not letting your brain necessarily control your movements anymore but rather letting your heart take over instead.

Taglist: @michaellangdonstanaccount @langdonsexual @jimmason @blakescoven @dark-mei-rose @9layerdevilfoodcake @prophecy-is-inevitable @matildaofoz @beautyiswithinchaos @frenchlangdon @instinctsxbaby @melodylangdon @littledemondani @celestialrequiem @sojournmichael @ritualmichael @twilightzone24 @glamourouslife99

Let me know if you wanna be added or removed to the taglist! :)

#Andy x reader #Andy Dolan x reader #andy dolan fanfiction #Andy Dolan #cody fern fanfiction #asks #sojournmichael #my fic #reading this back is so funny bc I tried so hard to make this fluffy but- #it’s basically full angst 😭 sorry lmao #but I hope you like this Eva 🥺👉🏻👈🏻 #sorry again it’s so late lol #will crosspost to ao3 in the near future lol

[draconic-ichor]

Heisenberg x Juniper (oc) Smut dabble…

This is an au smut dapple involving my re8 oc and Heisenberg. This does not go with my current fic

Warnings: smut, strong language, sexual themes, blood, fingerings, oral sex, penetrative sex,

Basically this came to mind as a what if Juniper would of stayed with House Dimitrescu and over the years Heisenberg’s curiosity of her got the better of him

Summary: During a festival Heisenberg finally gets the Dimitrescu’s guard dog alone…

Feedback appreciated. 18+

Walking through the town center, Heisenberg grimaced. The night was alight with music and laughter, the village holding a festival for something or another.

He trudged through the crowd to the tables that were serving alcohol, taking a shot of whisky for himself. The sounds of mirth all around him.

He hated the village, hated how it smelled and the people’s unwavering devotions. He didn’t come all the way down here to enjoy the festivities. No, he came for a very specific purpose….To find her.

Refilling just cup he began to slowly walk, eyes keen. The villagers danced around the maiden statue, singing.

As he rounded the edge of the town’s center his eyes caught what he’d come for: across the mass of people was a woman. She stood out, her raven curls shining in the lantern light. She looked so beautiful and happy, enjoying the music along the sidelines.

Her name was Juniper, and she was an outsider. Or she had been years ago when an accident brought her into the village.

She was mutated by the cadou, but unlike him she had not earned the title of Lord. She’d been assigned to house Dimitrescu, and in the few short years she’d stayed with them they did little more then exploit her. Her mutations allowed her the unique ability to shift into a varcolac like creature. Lady Dimitrescu treated her like a glorified guard-dog, but because of her higher affinity for the cadou she could drain her for wine.

It pissed him off to no end how Juniper stayed at their heels mostly, ever quiet and innocent as one in her situation could be.

The only place he could seem to catch her away from the bitch or her bugs was during nights like these. She had a wide eyed enjoyment of the village’s festivities.

In his musings he didn’t realize she had spotted him. Coming back to reality his gaze connected with her own. Her almost unnaturally bright eyes made his heart skip a beat. He watched her break away from the crowd, turning down an alley.

Heisenberg knocked back his current shot, giving chase. He stayed just enough away to not raise suspicion. As he left the alley he just caught sight of her navy cloak disappearing into a barn.

Looking around, finding this part of the town empty of prying eyes he followed.

He stepped through the partially open wooden doors. It was quiet and the air held the fragrance of dry straw.

His eyes fell on his quarry. Standing in the back, dim light alighting her eyes like emeralds, stood Juniper. She had her arms crossed, tapping her boot. It was a nervous habit of hers that he’d noticed long ago.

Chuckling he moved closer, “Now don’t look so happy to see me, doll.”

She snorted, “What do you want?”

He swallowed, forcing his voice to sound confident, “I just want to talk, we never talk.”

“Almost as if there is a reason.”

“Why avoid me?”

“Why are you so eager to meet?” Junipers eyes narrowed, “Every ceremony or festival you’re sniffing about.”

He got closer, the smell of musk and smoke hit her nose. She twitched a bit, swallowing, “Dog.”

His face split roguishly, “You’re one to talk, bitch.”

He saw her face redden as she looked away.

“I didn’t want to come here to piss you off.” He admitted, “I just wanted to see you…away from all that other bullshit.”

She saw the glow of his eyes, the way they softened when they looked over her. She couldn’t deny the feeling he stirred up on her core.

“You’ve been drinking Lord Heisenberg.” Juniper smirked, keeping one step away from him, always moving as he did.

“And?” He almost chuckled, “Don’t have to be drunk to know how I feel.”

“And how do you feel?”

He shifted a bit before answering, “Iv seen how you look at me, all hungry and wanting.”

She brushed away his comment, feeling her face flush.

“You’re not like them.” He pressed, taking a step closer.

“The Dimitrescus?” Juniper raised an eyebrow.

“The mega bitch and her little bug witches.” He nodded, “You’re not like them and you know that. They treat you like a guard dog, feeding you their bloody scraps.”

His words stung, Juniper broke her gaze from him.

“But you’re different because the bitches couldn’t curb your want for cock, hm?” He took another step, aware she had stopped her kiting of him.

Her bright green eyes flicked up to meet his. At some point his shades had been tossed away, leaving her to look into his pale eyes: they were beautiful, shifting tones of golds and greens.

While she was distracted he closed the rest of the distance between them, all but pinning her to the barn wall.

“So I’m a dog?” He looked over her face, lingering over her plush lips. She didn’t retreat, feeling warmth flood her stomach.

He leaned in, whispering low and huskily, “Well I can tell when a bitch is in heat.”

Her breath caught in her throat, she couldn’t deny the way he made her heart race.

“So how about we stop all these little games, hm?” He lifted her chin with a gloved hand. She met his eyes for a moment.

She gave him a little nod, eyes dark with lust.

He crashed his lips on her own, relishing the softness of her skin. She met his storm. He took this as an invitation to bite at her lip until she relented and gave him access to her mouth. He groaned as he explored her with is tongue, feeling her tug at his knotted hair. He tasted like whiskey and smoke, unlike anything she’d ever had.

He pressed into her, trapping her between the wall and his knee, pushing it to open her legs. She mewled at the contact, fabric rubbing over her sensible mound.

Heisenberg pulled back, huffing out hotly, “I’m going to fucking ruin you.”

Trying to make her voice as even as possible she smirked, “Promises, promises Lord Heisenberg.”

Her bravado sent more blood pulsing to his cock, his face splitting.

“Don’t call me that.” He dipped in, kissing and biting her neck. Her hands snaked under his coat, fingers tracing over his scared back.

“What should I call you then?” She pursed, grinding into his thigh as he found her sweet spot.

“Anything other than that.” He shook his head, sucking a dark blotch into her skin.

Thinking for a moment, she chose what felt the most natural, “Karl.”

He paused, hearing his first name spoke so honestly and sweetly was like honey to his ears. He didn’t even know the last time he’d heard it spoken. He pulled away enough to catch her lips again with his own.

She pulled away from him, lips rosy and swollen. Her hands drifted down his chest and stomach, pausing once they reached his belt. She met his gaze once more.

“Tell me you want me.” He demanded with a growl.

She nuzzled into his neck as she undid the clasp under her fingers, “I want you Karl…”

He rumbled out, pulling away to tear his coat from his shoulders. Juniper followed suit, stripping down. Their movement were desperate as they connected back together, free of fabric prisons.

He fell to his knees before her, inching up to slot his head between her legs. Not wasting time he dove in, lathing his tongue into her hot flesh. Juniper’s legs wobbled as a hand found his hair, holding him to her.

He lapped at her tender bud, feeling her tremble around his mouth.

“I-is this…why they call you a d-dog?” Juniper whimpered out.

He looked up at her though half lidded eyes, pulling away enough to rumble, “I can show you all the reasons, sweetheart.”

He added a finger to his onslaught, pushing it greedily into her core. He groaned, feeling her walls instantly clench down on him.

Pumping into her while he kept up his tongue on her clit reduced her to a mess in his hands.

Feeling her walls start to flutter, he pulled away. She whimpered, core aching from the loss of contact.

Heisenberg licked his fingers clean, loving the way her juices danced across his tongue. He wanted to devour her over and over again. But his cock was very hard and needing at present.

He found an old blanket, laying it over a bale of straw. Juniper eyed him curiously.

He sat down, patting his thigh and giving her a toothy smile.

“Come here.” Heisenberg spoke, it sounding more like a command then an option. She complied breathlessly, straddling her legs around him. She leaned forward, all hot and needy, pressing her breasts into his chest.

His heart quickened, unused to this depth of passion.

Her ass bumped into his cock, causing him to hiss and grab her hips. She lifted enough for him to line herself up, the head just starting to push against her opening.

Their eyes met and time stood still for a moment. She gave him a tiny nod.

Heisenberg began to push into her, hearing her mewl in pain.

“Relax buttercup.” He hissed, “Fuck, you’re tight.”

Inch by delicious inch she took him, until his cock was entirely buried in her liquid heat.

She felt the burn of her walls stretching to fit his girth, felt every vein of his cock as it pulsed inside of her.

Juniper grabbed onto his shoulders to steady herself, her legs shaking. Heisenberg had to take a breath himself, almost spilling over the moment he felt their hips meet.

He gave a shallow experimental thrust. She arched into him, giving him the ok to move.

Their awkwardness evaporated like dew in the morning sun, melting into the act whole heartedly.

Seeing her bounce on him: eyes dark and blown out, mouth agape with pleasure, made him sigh, “Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”

In the dim amber light he could still detect the light blush that ghosted her cheeks.

Feeling her release close he surged forward. Juniper cried out, feeling his teeth puncture the skin of she shoulder. Pain intermingled with pleasure.

Licking the wound to sooth it he felt her walls tighten around him, fucking up into her as stars burst before her eyes and she writhed.

“Fuck, that’s it! Come on my cock.” He hissed into her ear. Juniper cried out his name, pleasure fogging her senses.

She could feel his breath against her ear as he spoke, “You’re mine.” He licked the shell of her ear, drawing out a whimper from her, “You might work for those blood bitches, but you’re mine!”

She clung to him, feeling overstimulated as his cock abused every inch of her sensitive cunt. Bucking up into her, her release caused the barn to fill with a loud squelching.

He couldn’t hold on much longer, he knew it.

Her previous reservations were gone, she cried out shamelessly with every thrust. The music outside drowned them out from prying ears.

Feeling his coil tighten he started to lift her off of him, pausing when he heard her mewl.

“Please don’t pull out.” She begged, “Fill me up!”

Her words struck him for a moment, hitching his breath.

He surged her hips back down onto him, filling her to the hilt. With two more savage thrusts he was done for.

Giving a throaty groan he painted her walls with hot ropes of his release. She sobbed out thanks as her core milked him for every drop be had.

He fell back against the barn wall, breathing raggedly. Heisenberg felt Juniper cuddle into his chest, trying to calm her own heartbeat.

He put an arm lazily around the small of her back, their sweat sticking them together.

He doesn’t know how long they lay there, tangled up together, but when she sat up to move away it was much too soon for him.

She stood, shivering a bit from the loss of his heat. Heisenberg’s hands itched to pull her back against him.

Retrieving her clothes, Juniper murmured, “I should get back before I’m missed.”

Shrugging he spoke, “You don’t have to stay there, buttercup. I have a big lonely factory just across the way…”

Juniper smiled, “You and I both have jobs to get back to.”

Fuck, why was she right. Heisenberg started to reclothe as she found her cloak.

“Hei-..I mean, Karl?” Came her sweet voice.

He looked up questionably, seeing her standing in the doorway. Her dark curls were a mess, face still flushed.

“Show me some of your other tricks sometime?” Her eyes were bright and mischievous, “Maybe after the next family meeting?”

Taken back for a moment his lips slowly twitched into a smile, “Anytime kitten, you know where I live.”

Juniper gave him a wink before vanishing into the darkness.

#resident evil village #karl heisenberg #heisenberg x oc #re8 oc #heisenberg smut #smut dabbles

[disgruntledspacedad]

Aftershocks (2/5)

The Better Love Series 

pairing: Javier Peña x Fem!Reader (Ears). Part of the Better Love ‘verse. 

summary: That bomb fucked you up a little more than you thought. h/c, fluff.

words: 2.5k 

warnings: 18+ - canon typical violence, lots of medical stuff in this one.

a/n: unbeta’d. I had a surprise day off, so enjoy the second installment of Aftershocks much sooner than I had anticipated. More notes to follow!

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five 

MASTERLIST

You’re escorted beyond the heavy double doors of the emergency department in a hurry. It probably has a lot to do with Javi busting into the waiting area with you in his arms, flashing his DEA badge and barking out orders in irate Spanish. 

Honestly, you wish he wouldn’t make such a scene. Sitting still in the car had allowed you to catch your breath a little. You feel like shit, sure, but you’re pretty sure you aren’t actively dying.

Try telling him that, though.

The triage room is little more than a curtain masking a dimly lit corner. You’re answering what questions you can in halting Spanish, but Javi can see that you’re overwhelmed. 

“Ella habla ingles.” His tone earns him a dirty look, but the nurse nods, placing an oxygen probe on your finger and frowning up at the monitor. Both of you follow her gaze, noticing that the number reads 87. 

“The doctor will see you soon,” she says carefully. Her English is heavily accented, and suddenly, you’re grateful beyond words that you have Javi here to translate. “Here. You’ll wear this.” She winds the oxygen tubing beneath your chin and around your ears. The oxygen is dry, burning your nose and making your face twitch in annoyance, but you can’t deny that you feel better with it on.

The nurse leaves you then, pulling the curtain closed behind her. Javi continues to stare at the monitor with his arms folded across his chest as the number on the screen climbs to 89, then to 92, the soft tone of the blips rising in pitch with each subtle improvement.

He’s thinking again, you can tell. 

“Javi?” You reach for his hand, tugging at his fingers. Instinctively, you know that leaving him alone to stew right now cannot be a good thing.

He glances down at you, all dark, glittering eyes and terse expression, and worry clinches in your gut. “You okay?”

Javi snorts. “Really, Ears.” You can just see him fighting the urge to roll his eyes. “That’s a hell of a question, coming from you.”

You decide to shoot for levity. “I’m great, thanks for asking.”

That earns you a pathetic, lopsided lip twitch. You count it as a win anyway.

The doctor never shows. Javi grumbles and broods. A little while later, somebody comes with a wheelchair to whisk you away for an x-ray, and no matter how much blustering and badge-flashing and protesting he does, Javi is told firmly to stay put. 

He’s pacing agitatedly in the hallway when return. Apparently, it had felt like an eternity for him. 

In reality, you’d been gone less than twenty minutes.

It seems that your x-ray has earned you some attention, because things start happening a little faster now. People are in and out, one nurse bustling in to wordlessly draw an entire fistful of little color coded tubes of your blood, another working on IV access in your opposite arm. You take it all stoically, caught between watching in fascination as the nurse tapes the catheter in place with practiced efficiency and wondering why all of this can’t just happen in one stick. 

A little while later, the same nurse returns with a bag of fluid. “Seca,” she informs you as she stretches to hang it on the hook in the wall. 

“She says you’re dehydrated,” Javi translates. His face is a stone wall, the subtle clench of his jaw the only hint of the emotion that churns beneath. You can just imagine him kicking himself for not making you eat or drink. 

You bite back a shiver. The saline is cold in your arm.

They move you to a real room not long after that. It’s only marginally bigger than your corner in the emergency department, crammed with two rickey, uncomfortable beds separated by another dingy curtain. Thankfully, you don’t have a roommate for the moment.

You let Javi handle the paperwork as you change out of his sweats and into the itchy, open-backed gown that you’ve been provided with. Even with the oxygen, moving around still requires that you pause to catch your breath, and you’re grateful for the opportunity to sit when you’re done, even if the hospital bed you’re on is squeaky and uncomfortable.

Once the documents are signed and the nurses are gone, silence settles thickly between you. Javi is standing with his fingers fisted into his hips, glaring daggers at the clock on the wall. He hasn’t spoken in a long time.

Again, you feel that burning need to pull him out of his head. “Not really set up for visitors, is it?” you ask wryly. It’s a stupid, pointless thing to say, but you’re just trying to fill the void.

Javi glances around the room, raising his brows at what he observes. There’s no chair and no free space, nowhere for him to sit. Sighing deeply, he yanks back the curtain that divides the room and eases carefully onto the bed opposite of you, leaning forward with his arms folded on his knees.

You grit your teeth. Really, you wouldn’t have minded him settling down on your bed, but the more time you spend with Javi, the more you’re starting to realize that he withdraws when he’s feeling wrong-footed. As annoying as it is, the distance he’s putting between you is just par for the course, and it’s just not worth addressing right now.

“How are you feeling?” he asks softly, pinning you with a sharp, assessing stare.

“Better,” you answer automatically, forcing some cheerfulness into your tone. Honestly, you’re far more worried about him than you are about you. 

Javi raises a skeptical brow, clearly doubting you.

“No, really!” 

Your protest makes him shake his head in dark amusement. “What am I gonna do with you, Ears?” he wonders aloud.

You’re ready to supply several very detailed answers to that question, all of them interrupted as your doctor finally breezes into the room. 

“About fucking time,” Javi mutters under his breath as he rises to his feet.

“Hola, hola. I’m Dr. Perez.” Dr. Perez says, actually managing to sound a tiny bit apologetic. “Forgive the delay, por favor. I know it must seem that emergencies are the most non-emergent situation in the hospital, but, I promise you, we are working hard behind the scenes.”

 You decide immediately that you like Dr. Perez. He’s not a big man, compact and clean cut, with just the faintest dusting of silver at his temples and a warm, genuine smile. 

Javi must be thinking along similar lines, because he comes to stand just at the edge of your shoulder, looming dark and foreboding at your side as Dr. Perez approaches your bedside. 

Oh, now you’ll stick close, you think fondly, trying to find a little amusement in Javi’s behavior. Everything about this situation is entirely new, totally incongruous with the cool, suave Javier Peña that you thought you’d known, and a malicious, possessive part of your brain is just eating up the implications.

“I understand you were involved in the bombing in downtown Bogotá, correct?” Dr. Perez’s grip is firm and cool as he shakes your hand. 

“Yes, that’s correct.” You’re acutely aware of Javi standing stiffly beside you, watching your every move.

“Most unfortunate,” Perez shakes his head in a show of sympathy, and you manage to believe him. “And the breathing problems, they began later, no?”

“Yes,” you answer, surprised that he would guess with such accuracy. “I was okay afterward. Maybe a little bit sore. But not hurt.”

“Ella ha estado tosiendo sangre,” Javi interjects quickly. You’re not sure what he’s saying, but Dr. Perez’s eyes flicker in his direction, a swift, meaningful look passing between them. 

“Veo.” Dr. Perez says smoothly. He frowns down at you. “And how for were you from the blast zone?”

You think back, willing yourself to relive the memory of the morning in clinical detail. “I was crossing the street,” you say slowly.  “Headed home.” You do some quick mental math in your head, analyzing the width of Circular against the image of Emilio, waving. You’d been close enough to shout a greeting. “Forty feet. Maybe a little less.”

Beside you, Javi sucks in a sharp breath. 

Perez purses his lips. “Sí, eso lo haría.” He crosses the room, flicking a switch to illuminate a bright white panel built into the wall that you hadn’t noticed before. He shuffles through your chart, pulling out a dark film and pinning it to the light. 

It’s your chest x-ray. You can clearly see the curve of your ribs, stark white against the darker background of your lungs. In the middle of the film lies the dusky outline of what you assume is your heart. To the lower left, a patch of hazy, white blur mars the image. 

“This is the problem.” Perez points to the blur. “Pulmones magullados. Your lungs are bruised, see? This is common in blast zone survivors. The change in air pressure when the bomb ignites causes an injury to the lung tissue. You are bleeding just a little bit internally.”

You can damn near feel Javi gritting his teeth at that.

“But I felt fine,” you protest weakly, looking assentingly at the blob on the x-ray. It’s a pretty good size.

“Sí, you were fine.” Perez is nodding along with you, like he’d expected the argument. “That’s normal with this type of injury. You felt good immediately afterward because the bruise was new, the bleeding slight. But the bruise has gotten bigger, and you have gotten worse.” He indicates the oxygen that you are wearing with a grim nod. “You are a very lucky, mi amiga, to have walked away from that. Muy afortunada. Had you been closer…” Perez trails off, shaking his head somberly. “It does not bear thinking.”

He claps his hands, startling you away from the grisly images stirring in your mind. “There is good news, though!” Perez gestures toward the x-ray as a whole, circling over it with his index finger. “I see no rib fractures, nothing collapsed. Your breathing might get worse before it gets better, but it will get better. We will keep you under close watch until then.”

“Keep me?”

“Sí, you will be here.” Perez pins you with a no-nonsense stare, as if to curtail any protests before they come. “There’s another matter. You have a small concussion as well. To this area, here.” He taps the back of his own head with his hand. “From falling down, yes?”

You nod. The area he’s pointing to is right where your head hurts most, where you’d fallen backward after the blast. “Yes. It did knock me off my feet.” Apparently a with a little more force than you’d initially assumed.

Perez hums. “We will monitor that as well. You do not take blood thinners?”

“No, sir. No medications.”

“Bueno.” Dr. Perez seems genuinely pleased by this. “You’ve made my job very easy.” He gathers the film and shuffles it back into your chart, flopping it shut with a flourish. “Rest for you, Orejas. Time and sleep will do the best healing.”

“Orejas?” you can’t help but ask. It’s the name that Emilio had used for you, but you’re shocked that Perez knows it. 

Perez smiles. “I listen to my nurses. That is what they call you.”

“How much time?” Javi interrupts before you can respond. You’d nearly forgotten about him, as quiet as he’s been. 

Perez turns to address him for the first time. “It depends largely on her body. The concussion is small, and won’t require anything in the way of treatment. Her lungs, though…” Perez frowns down at the closed chart with a furrowed brow. “The contusion is still developing. A few days, a week, perhaps? I can say more tomorrow.” He turns back to you, sighing in sympathy. “I’m afraid you’re in for a stay, mi amiga.”

Well, fuck.

With that, Perez disappears just as quickly as he’d arrived, soft, quick footsteps echoing down the hallway, and silence falls once again over the room.

Javi doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. He’s standing very still, arms folded tightly across his chest with his thumbs digging into his armpits. The expression on his face is downright chilling. 

Your blood turns to ice.

“What the fuck, Ears?” he says very slowly, enunciating each syllable with deadly precision.

You glance up, suddenly hesitant to speak. The little movement must be enough to spur him on, though, because Javi fucking explodes. 

“Forty fucking feet!” he bites out, clawing angrily at his hair. He paces the tiny room, whirling as he runs out of space and pointing an accusing finger at you. “You told me you were across the street, Ears, not crossing it. There’s a big fucking difference.”

You blink at him, recalling the conversation you’d had in the embassy parking lot. 

Shit, he’s right.

“Why the hell did you lie to me?” There’s a subtle warble in his tone, a flicker of devastation in his eyes that’s quickly masked. 

Discomfort that has nothing to do with your injured lungs twinges in your chest. “I don’t know,” you answer miserably. You hadn’t thought of it as lying. At the time, you’d been overwhelmed by the situation and thoroughly confused by Javi’s erratic behavior, just desperate to get home and sleep off the worst morning of your life. “I didn’t want to upset you, I guess.” 

Javi laughs sarcastically. “Well, you’ve done a fucking fantastic job of that, haven’t you?” He throws his hands in the air, like he’s had it up to here with your shit. “Coughing up blood all over my kitchen floor. Christ, I should have known.”

Okay, now he’s being a little dramatic - the only blood you’d coughed up had been into your fingers, after all, but the protest is lost on you as you look him in the face. Javi’s eyes are deeply shadowed, his expression pained, his hair standing wildly from where he’s run his fingers through it. 

He looks thoroughly exhausted.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, dropping your gaze to the floor.

Javi huffs and looks away, clearly not ready to accept any apologies from you.

You don’t blame him. Throughout this entire screwed up relationship, you’ve done an absolutely piss poor job of putting yourself in Javi’s shoes, and it’s coming back to bite you in the ass.

You deserve his irritation, and more.

Javi’s pager beeps, the shrill sound of it slicing through the tension. He snatches it roughly off of his belt, frowning down at the display with squinted eyes.

You glance up at the clock on the wall. It’s pretty late, but given the day Javi’s had, it’s not outrageous to assume that somebody would need to be in touch with him at this hour.

 “I’ve got to take this,” Javi says tonelessly, hardly glancing up at you. If there’s any regret there, it’s buried very deeply. “I’ll see you later, Ears.”

He’s gone before you can get a word in edgewise.

♠

confessions/notes:

I speak one language poorly, and I’ve never extensively written a character who is not a primary English speaker (I’m not counting Javi here). Any critiques or corrections to my Spanish are very welcomed!

Up next: a look at things from Javi’s POV.

Spanish translations: 

She speaks English. 

Dry

She’s been coughing up blood.

I see. 

Yeah, that’ll do it.

ears

tags:@jedi-mando, @perropascal, @aerolanya, @pikemoreno, @bitchin-beskar, @mostly-megan, @huliabitch, @starsandmando, @starlight-starwrites​, @thirstworldproblemss, @knittingqueen13, @yespolkadotkitty​

Javier Peña tags: @magpie-to-the-morning, @tiffdawg, @danniburgh, @1800-fight-me​

To my taglist peeps, I’m sorry for tagging you guys three times in 24 hours. Again, chaotic jay cannot plan anything, like ever.

#Javier Peña x reader #Javier Peña #narcos #pedro pascal #Javier Peña x you #Javier Peña fanfiction #Javier Peña fanfic #reader insert #hurt/comfort #fluff #narcos netflix #narcos fanficiton #narcos fanfic #better love #aftershocks

[flowerwrites06]

break my mind’s eye VII — jjk

Plot: Jungkook thinks marriage is the only way to seal a deal.

Pairing(s): Druglord!Jungkook x Fashion Designer!OC (Name: Belle)

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series

Parts: Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X | Special 

Word Count: 7k+

Genre: Mafia | Angst/Smut/Fluff

Tags & Warnings (for entire series): drug dealing, marriage through trickery, explicit smut, drug use, dubious consent, prostitution, miscarriage, lots of manipulation, impregnation through manipulation 

JEON JUNGKOOK TIES THE KNOT!

‘It’s a sad day indeed as the most eligible bachelor in the city is now officially married! The ceremony took place in a garden like-setting on the grounds of the old Jeon manor where we could see the cherry blossoms falling on Kim Belle’s veil.

The couple absolutely glowed in the afternoon light and Jungkook couldn’t keep his eyes off his new bride. While this relationship came as a surprise to everyone, many sources speculate that the two had been liaising for years in secret. Leave it the Jeon family to be as extravagant yet discreet as possible.

As per the family’s tradition, they will be staying in the manor for two nights before going back to their shared home.

Belle’s dress had been a little underwhelming to some of us until we got word that her waistline is encrusted with approximately 96 5 carat diamonds, the whole dress designed and created by Madame Saito, her mentor and one of the leading designers of our country. So appearances are quite deceiving as we’re looking at an easily $20, 000 wedding dress adorned by the new heiress.

The whole ceremony moved as smoothly as the falling flowers. Definitely a step up from the previous few articles written for Kim Belle in poor taste. The new Mrs. Jeon takes the award for being the most elegantly majestic bride of the year.’

-

“Sorry, sir?” Yoongi asked to make sure he heard Jungkook ask him to come over to his office for a private meeting. There were two ways this could go. Either a bullet in his head or a bullet he has to put in someone else’s head. Namjoon told him a lot of stories of how newer members of any mafia made you kill someone at least once to test true loyalty. Because really one could die to save themselves from any more misery but living their entire life responsible for a murder was a whole other story.

Jungkooks’ expression did not falter in the slightest, still in his proper wedding attire with a light tint on his lips from Belle’s lipstick. “It’s only going to be a few minutes.” He walked past him having every expectation of being followed.

Yoongi did not hesitate to continue walking along the large regal hallway before turning right into a dark rustic office. A much older man already situated himself on the couch while two guards stood on each side of a figure resting on his knees in front of the table.

The usual bright and luxurious light in the rest of the mansion unfortunately did not reach this room. Scent of tobacco mixed in with expensive cologne and sweat swirling in a dark room adorned with deep brown furniture. This was a place of purely business. Despite the pretty lavenders on Jungkooks’ breast pockets matching the flowers in Belle’s hair.

“Park Jeongsu…he was found in midst of exchanging letters to the mayor.” The older male spoke in a gruff tone possibly from the smoke infecting his throat.

“Thank you, uncle.” Jungkook stared down at the wooden box lined in purple velvet. “Do you see that? That’s what you called loyalty.” Fingers traced the outline of some diagram on the top that Yoongi could quite catch but it shone in gold. “Chul has been mingling with the likes of our own gang…” He scoffed with a smile. “Clever.”

Yoongis’ heart seemed quickly tumble down into a tight cage situated somewhere deep in an endless abyss. There was more sources for the mayor. Just how many rats did they have in this place? The man understandably was given minimal information so it was easy for him to stay unknowing and a little confused.

“I despise disloyal people, Jeongsu. I really do.” He attempted to give the trembling male an apologetic look but anyone could sense there was no sincerity. “Especially on one of most joyous occasions of my life, I expected all my soldiers to stay by my side. To protect me as I have tried to protect you and your families. I’ve always tried to be a gracious leader.” Jungkook shrugged. “If it were my father, your own balls would be stuffed down your throat until you choke to death.”

The mere description and Yoongi saw the male on his knees breathing heavily, the cloth around his mouth inflating at every breath.

“Of course today I can’t get my hands dirty.” He moved both hands away from the box. “I need to be gracious and generous today in honor of my new beloved wife.” Jungkook leaned on the edge of the table by his hands. “Thankfully my uncle was nice enough to question you while I was gone…” He gestured towards his blood soaked shirt and swollen eye. “So if you’ve come this far to me, that means you’re of no use.”

The words barely settled into the room but muffled protesting began from the vulnerable target. Even if the cloth wasn’t hindering his clarity, Jungkook and his uncle probably would not have had any remorse to step away. This wasn’t a family or business of mercy.

Flickering open the wooden box, Jungkook in his most casual aura picked up the shining silver object. Each bullet placed inside with heartwarming care before the older mans’ voice slithered through the intimate moment.

“Jungkook…” His uncle warned with a stern tone, smoke riddling the air around him. “It’s bad luck to execute someone on your wedding day.”

“I know.” He muttered without sparing him a sideways glance. Once everything had been prepared, Jungkook walked around the table and stood in front of the traitor. The gun handed out in Yoongis’ direction.

All eyes were on the male now and he never felt more uncomfortable in his entire life. He had been stuck in a trunk before so that was saying something. Eyes flickered from the older man to Jungkook to the male who clearly had been on his side. Of course refusing to do so would end with both their lives taken and then this whole operation would combust back into nothingness.

You’ve shot guns before. Not at innocent people.

No one was truly innocent. At least that was sentiment he plastered in his mind hiding away all the warnings and alarms from his conscience. Padding closer to where Jungkook stood, his heart raced faster at every step swallowing down any protest struggling to push through.

The thrashing faded away into a meek sob as Yoongi faced the man. Much to his discontent, the lack of lines on his face and the broken brightness in his eyes showed that he was but a boy. Possibly a tad younger than Jungkook himself or his age. Either way his mind now haunted itself with the prospect of killing a near child for the sake of his operation. Was it worth to take a life for this?

He was not the only one risking things however. This boy was one of many who were already victims of Jungkooks’ rule, at least Yoongi knew the one kneeling before him had fought for a cause.

Clicking back the safety, Yoongi tightened his jaw ignoring the tears streaming down their cheek and the giant eyes staring back at him.

For a few seconds the younger male calmed himself to an almost peaceful breathing state. It was brief and hard to truly notice but Yoongi saw the little nod he gave him. Reassuring the older male that this needed to be done. One life to protect the many.

In a rush of adrenaline Yoongi pulled the trigger. It wasn’t as loud as the guns he received in the precinct. Perfect for quick and quiet executions especially during these occasions. For a moment he could pretend that nothing even happened. Though blood leaking from the hole made on the others’ forehead spoke a truer story.

To the side he dropped, light thud echoing in the room before nothing but silence plunged comfortably.

“The den in Gongneung needs to be put under heavy security. I remember him one of the boys who was patrolling there.” Jungkook nodded towards the unmoving figure before fixated his gaze on the two guards who immediately bowed in response. “And I want a private meeting with the person who brought him in as a tribute.” He finally turned to Yoongi, expression softening a little at how frozen the man was. Carefully he patted him on the back. “You did well, Yoongi. I know being a medical apprentice, this isn’t exactly your line of work but I need to see whether it’s safe to have you around.” A small smile played on his lips. “I suppose I can always trust Belle’s judgement.”

Yoongi forced him to meet the younger male’s gaze, an awkward smile flickered but quickly faded away as he dumbly watched Jungkook take the gun away from him and put it on the table gently.

The boy lay limp on the dark wood slowly being painted with blood, deepening its hue into a deep wine glistening in the lowlight. Definitely not a sight supposed to be seen on an auspicious day.

Jungkook watched the blood ooze across the room and merely stood over it to move closer to the door. “Clean this up. No more tasks until I get to the mansion.” He ordered simply. “Yoongi…”

His attention flicked back to reality in a rush of cold air before following Jungkook along like a confused puppy.

As the bright light almost burned his eyes, Yoongi pretended that he just woke up from a really bad dream and nothing ever happened. He learned how to do that very quickly in his career especially after he shot his first person in the field. Not the healthiest way to cope but his pay did not actually cover for therapy.

Jungkook dug his hands into his pockets looking out the window. A bright, perfect day to be married after so long of hearing one proposal after the other. It was finally done. Eyes flickered towards the raven haired male who finally caught up to stand next to him. “Unfortunately I have to ask you another favor as well, Yoongi.”

“Does it involve me killing anyone? Can I have a five minute break first?”

The younger male chuckled before shaking his head. “No…it’s—it’s a little more delicate than that.”

Yoongis’ brows furrowed, all of his attention now dissipated into what he was going to say. Though he hated to admit he had a small idea of who it involved.

Jungkook stammered before glancing around the hallway and sighing. “It’s about the wedding night…”

-

The first thing she took off was her heavy earrings as they were led into one of the private rooms to change into more comfortable clothing. Apparently Boyoung wanted to have a small word with the two of them before they went off to bed. Her limbs felt like they were going to pop out of their sockets with how exhausted she was. Who knew just wearing a heavy dress and walking around would take so much out of you.

Belle understand on a whole new level just how models felt having to create such a strong demeanor that even pain could not pass across their features. Hours spent on chatting people up and others admiring the now famous waistline on her dress. The girl loved the dress more because of the fact Saito made it just for her made her happy enough.

Jungkooks’ hand permanently set on the small of her back. The man had disappeared for a while during the party but from the way his face tensed when he walked back here, she knew it had to do with work.

The guide opened a door for them and they were led into a room similar to the one Belle dressed up in for the ceremony.

Giving a kind smile to the guide, she walked and placed her earrings on the small table next to the bathroom. For the moment the couple had finally stood on their lonesome with no one to disturb them.

The young lord took the opportunity to pounce at his new bride and take her lips into his.

Her veil toppled off her head from the force and Belle couldn’t help but giggle a little into the kiss. “Not now.” She whispered.

“A few minutes.” Jungkook breathed out pulling her veil off gently before pressing a few more pecks on her soft lips. Whatever strain tightened up his nerves significantly loosened being around his only source for relaxation.

Belle hummed in protest, pressing against his chest to have him pause. “Your aunt is going to be here in a few minutes. We need to be decent.”

Jungkook merely smirked and gave her another peck just at the moment the door opened.

Boyoung gave her nephew a cheeky smile as he backed shyly before closing the door behind them.

“What did you want to talk about?” Belle asked with a sweet smile gracing her lips.

The older woman let out a sigh but still kept a decent smile gracing her features. She looked over at Jungkook who hung his head for a moment. “Dear…” Her tone rung grim and serious. A rare sound coming from a lady who always looked extremely happy every day. Once again the usual habit of holding Belle’s hands when she spoke of something. “The Jeon family has been around for many generations. Possibly longer than the city itself.” Boyoung chuckled lightly. “So with that age and prestige, there comes…a few traditions that lived on for our family’s continual survival.”

Belle nodded, trying to search her expression with the hope that was just some simple task she had to undertake. Maybe eating more fruits or balancing stuff on her head. Except the other womans’ voice sounded far too serious for something like that. Eyes flickered over to Jungkook who had his arms folded over his chest and his expression softened.

“Family members must be married at 21…” Boyoung repeated the tradition the couple already fulfilled. “They also need to carry on the line of the Jeon family.” Her grip tightened on her hands. “Do you have any conditions that may prevent you from having a baby?”

She stammered lightly. “No—I don’t think so.”

Boyoung nodded before giving her a smile except it wasn’t as bright more consoling.

“Why are we talking about babies now?” Belle smiled nervously.

She glanced over at Jungkook for a moment who tightened his jaw, seemingly unable to look Belle straight in the eye. “You understand the world we live in, dear. At some point, you both will need to dedicate yourself to your own lives just like Jungkooks’ parents did. Which is why we make a point to marry and have children in their brisk days.”

Belle’s lips parted for a moment, sensing where this now dreaded conversation was headed. “When—when do you want us to have children?”

Boyoung took a deep breath as the younger female had the urge to yank her hands away. “There is a ceremony on the wedding night for every Jeon wedding. I’ve done it, Jungkooks’ mother has done it and many of our ancestors. You are to—lay with one another that will give you a child.” She spoke carefully. “Because of a few incidents in the past, there is a strict rule that this ceremony must have two witnesses. Preferably people that the couple trusts not to fib or lie about the consummation.”

Her whole body felt like it burst into flames but no one noticed or cared. A little voice inside her screamed out so loud, Belle was worried she might actually mimic the volume right there and then. She really thought this conversation would not happen until a few years after the wedding, maybe when her heart wore down to the subject. How much more of her naivety was going to be shredded to waste before she realized these people did not care who they hurt. Especially when it came to their ideals.

“I know it’s a lot to take in, dear but—we must prepare tonight.” She caressed her cheek.

Belle could almost feel a slight sting on her skin at the seemingly affectionate movement. Blood curdling screams still echoed through her insides but on the outside, she nodded as any captive trying to live would do. Just nod and hope it ends quick.

Boyoung immediately smiled using the minor response as a reassurance boost before grinning at Jungkook. “I will see you both bright and early tomorrow.” She announced walking out of the door.

The couple now standing in a pit of thick silence.

“You knew about this.” Belle whispered, eyes growing glossier by the second as they stood face to face with one another. “Is that the part you conveniently forgot? The part where I’m supposed to make children for you tonight too.” She winced while Jungkook was trying conjure up words that would be most appropriate to reassure her.

Unfortunately the way their family worked and the way society worked were so far off from each other that even he felt helpless against it. “Belle, we’ve been doing it without protection this whole time. What’s going to be so different now?”

“They want me to be impregnated!” She shouted making the male hurriedly glance over at the door worried someone might be listening in. “With witnesses…” She whispered under her trembling breath.

“Baby, calm down.” He raised his hands to cup her cheeks, give her some form of comfort that he could while still making Boyoung and the rest of his family happy.

Belle roughly pushed him away, her bracelet tinkling and tugging at the fabric of his shirt when she moved back. “No that’s why you chose me, isn’t it?” Voice shook down to her very core as she yanked away from Jungkook attempting to hold her hand. “You wouldn’t feel bad if I was in display as opposed to someone you actually cared about.”

The lord paused in his tracks for a moment feeling his heart clench at the dark thought swirling in his wifes’ head. “I don’t want to do this just as much as you, B.” His words faded more into a mutter trying to keep the conversation private because he knew with all his soul that there was one person pressing their ear against the door. Thankfully most of these doors in the mansion were decently sound-proof. “You think I want people to see us like that?” He grabbed her by the cheeks now forcing to keep her close, noses just brushing against each other. “This is my family. You should know more than anyone that we can do everything for family.”

“Don’t do that.” She shook her head, breathing out a small sob and attempting to pull away from him again but his hands were firm to keep her still. “Don’t do that, this is not the same. It’s a baby—”

“I know.” He whispered, her pulse pounding against his palm making his stomach drop. “I do care about you. I care about you a lot…”

“No you don’t—” Belle hated that she was not just feeling anger pump through her veins but fear. Genuine fear. The permanency of what they were about to do could terrify anyone but at least normal people had the chance to say no or turn back.

“I do.”

She took a deep breath gently pushed his hands away. “If you did care about me…we wouldn’t be married. And I wouldn’t be preparing to be bred like an animal.” Swallowing down the painful lump in her throat despite the tears already trailing down her cheeks. People cried at weddings after all but rarely for this reason.

Before Jungkook could say another word Belle rushed away into the bathroom, slamming the door so hard it almost made even him jump.

-

No. No no no no no no no no no this was wrong. Of all the fucking things Yoongi witnessed in his entire life, this made him nauseous even thinking about it.

Witnessing impregnation. That’s what they called it, the men quietly smoking at the open area near the bedroom it was going to happen. The excited bastards looked to be about the age when it was acceptable in their time to behave in this manner, chin sagging down to their toes.

So along with mass selling drugs, the Jeon family loved impregnating their women in front of other people. How unsurprisingly disappointing.

The worst part was that Yoongi had a feeling Belle wasn’t a long-time girlfriend of Jungkook. He wasn’t even sure if the two were a real couple. But a child is fucking real. This wasn’t a fantasy game anymore for status, this was solidifying a future that the woman probably didn’t even want.

Silence plunged into the room when from the corner of his eye a lavender adorned figure stepped in next to Jungkooks’ aunt.

His plump lips curled up into a smile at the older female, bowing down before a grim expression flashed across his face and Yoongi immediately knew why he was here.

Jimin looked around at the people in the room and his heart dropped seeing the chortling men at the corner. He prayed to the high heavens none of them were going to be in the booth observing this horrendous ceremony. Instead his eyes flickered to the man he hoped was Yoongi. “Witness?” He asked briefly. Much to his somewhat relaxation, Yoongi nodded.

“This your first time?” One of the older man asked the two males.

They both agreed shortly and the older man laughed.

“Oh it’s better than it sounds. In all my experiences, they both loved it. Sometimes it’s a sweet affair.” He smiled.

“And other times?” Yoongi asked daringly.

Unfortunately the men shifted uncomfortably, the slightly younger ones cleared their throats while the older ones looked more grim than normal.

“Virgins are the worst to endure.” The oldest one there spoke up, shaking and sitting on the chair. “Crying…blood…those are the ones you need to worry for the most.”

“We haven’t had a virgin in a long time though.” A more springy man spoke up. “A few of us suggested that the mating ceremony should not be mixed in with losing one’s virginity. Not much fun for the to-be mother or father.”

Yoongi swallowed down thickly, their casual tone about this whole mess making him even more nauseous.

The conversation was immediately paused when Boyoung padded back into the room. “It’s time now, boys. Into the booth.” She muttered almost under her breath gesturing towards to the gap on the left of the entrance.

Taking calculated steps one after the other, Yoongi simply followed the lavender adorned male through the small opening into a tiny booth. Their shoulders brushing against each other as they observed the beautiful designed window, vectors formulating the letter ‘J’ mixed with butterflies and flowers.

However through the window was something far less pleasant.

-

Silence diseased the large room. Belle was left to hear her own hurdling thoughts just to stay sane. From the corner of her eye she noticed the shifting through the open window with a designed barrier to create some kind of class to this horrid tradition.

His hand pushed her chin so her gaze could be fixated on him. “It’s just you and me, okay?” Jungkook whispered. “Just us.”

Like a brainwashing scheme where Belle was stuck in a river between a bank of fantasy and a bank of reality. They were not alone. She could feel the familiar eyes burning right into core. But what was so new about pretending? She pretended this to a point where her entire life was now dedicated to the man before giving no chance of another life.

If Jungkook couldn’t get out this then how could she ever think the same? It wasn’t like she could run away either, there was no one around to help her. No one to stop this.

Hand gently cupped her cheek before leaning in for an initiating kiss, light warmth spreading through her. His lips became so familiar for comfort nowadays that Belle lost a little of her conscious sense for her own peace of mind.

However this was not meant to be an act of love or even attraction. She was reminded of this when Jungkook pushed the fabric of her dress up without warning. “I’m sorry.” He whispered in her ear. No this was a responsibility. A chore to get done on a to-do list curated for the young lord.

Made to lie on her back, Belle’s vision grew blurry feeling her legs being spread apart with the utmost care but hardly any of the warmth she usually remembered. Then there came the burn through her entrance as he pushed in. A trembling breath passed through her lips struggling to keep composure in such a vulnerable position.

Walls ached the deeper he moved in, his one hand gripping at the sheets until his hips stilled once she was completely full with his already throbbing cock.

Her gaze flickered up to the cherry blossom paintings on the ceiling, pretending a cool spring breeze touching her face and the sound of water flowing. This isn’t real. For a second Belle forced herself to drown into a pool of fantasy. This wasn’t real. The pain faded minutes ago and so did her sense of consciousness.

She wasn’t here, arms pinned down by strong hands and hot breath cascading down her neck. No it was back at the boutique. Belle spending hours sewing her favourite daffodil yellow dress with a tall cup of iced coffee and her hair in a comfortable bun.

Her head was pulled back into reality when Jungkook pressed a kiss on her lips and it all poured back into her. Legs aching from the spread, her heat a little numb from the friction while no sound passed her lips except for light heaving.

Yoongi struggled to control his heavy breathing as the scene took place before him. The man felt like a prisoner witnessing his inmate being beaten. He just had to watch cruel reality play out it’s painful dance. Having the stomach for it was not his biggest issue. Except he knew Belle was not here out of unconditional love for Jungkook. He promised himself to always help people in need but truly aiding someone to freedom required a hefty journey in the process.

Right at this moment however that sentiment seemed like empty words.

This was not Belle’s world. The idea itself was what caused a pit in his already upset stomach. She didn’t grow up in this life nor did she choose it. It was never supposed to a part of her but now she had to deal with evil test of fate.

Jungkook intertwined his fingers with her loose ones, pressing reassuring pecks on her jawline as his hips snapped against hers. Sneaking a free hand between her legs he rubbed onto her clit hoping to give her some kind of pleasure while his own orgasm rolled to the edge.

A light tickle shot through her but stopped midway when she could feel him reaching his release. The way his face contorted and his thrusts grew desperate but sloppy.

This isn’t real. Fingers fisted at the sheets. This isn’t real. A light groan uttered under his breath. This isn’t real. More tears burning and gathering at her overflowing eyes.

This is real.

The man stilled as his release burst through his veins.

Her body lay compliant as she felt herself being filled up to the brim. Belle sucked onto her bottom lip, closing her eyes almost trying to turn back time somehow.

Jungkook hesitantly leaned in and tried to press a kiss on her cheek.

“Get off me.” She whispered. “Please.”

The male paused feeling a burning behind his eyes when she still tried to be kind despite what he did. Pulling out of her gently, Jungkook got off the bed with a shaky sigh curling his hands into fists when he couldn’t comfort her. How could he? He was the reason she needed comfort in the first place. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Jungkook turned away to the bathroom.

Yoongi didn’t realize he had been gripping onto the grill of the window the whole time, until he felt something wet on his palms. When he pulled away it felt like taking a splinter out tiny little bleeding holes interrupting the lines.

His ears pricked up at the trembling sigh the other let out.

When he looked over at him, his cheeks were already stained with tears while a few more flooded at the brim watching Belle slowly shift to the middle of the bed. “I have—” The male whispered before swallowing down painfully. “I have to go to work after this.”

The both of them helplessly watched the girl shake and force herself to sob quietly as she fixed her dress.

“Please…go see if she’s okay. If you can.” The pleading look in Jimin’s eyes mimicked the ache in his exhausted heart. They both knew Belle didn’t deserve this mess. They both witnessed her kindness and now saw her pain.

Yoongi nodded even though it was clear there was nothing any of them could do for her right now. Not at this moment. God if he could just tell him right there and then that he was trying his best to help her out of here.

But when he saw the way Belle curled into herself and tried to take to deep breaths while tears were still streaming down her face.

He knew he had to do a whole fucking more than his best.

-

Two nights later.

Sun felt warm on her skin, shoes crunched against the pavement as she relished in the murmurs and cheers of the market. How long had it been since the woman had just walked through this corner of wonders? All the high fashion shows, sleek garments and elegant wear were almost nothing compared to the raw simplicity of the red cotton or hand crafted jade jewelry. Belle remembered how she used to create necklaces out of flowers and little stones giving it to Taehyung as a gift because he was the only one who would accept it.

No matter how high she went in this pillar of success, this still brought a warmth in her heart without fail.

Wandering eyes paused on one clothing stall in particular. Padding closer, she saw the smallest pair of yellow shoes shining in the sunny day just at the edge of the display. A smile tugged at her lips when she noticed tiny daisy details embroidered onto it. Carefully the woman picked the pair up almost worried that it might fall apart because they looked so delicate and innocent.

“You have child?” The lady at the stall smiled at her kindly as she waved herself with a fan to waft away the heat.

Belle smiled, relishing the soft fabric under her fingers pads almost acting as a therapeutic substance. “Not yet.” She chuckled softly. “How much is this?”

The lady boxed the shoes up carefully before handing it to her with a bracelet for free. When Belle tried to refuse, she waved it off with that same sweet smile. “It’s for good fortune.”

With slight reluctance the girl thanked her again and moved onto the other stalls. As her eyes wandered, she stopped at the sight of a familiar figure walking out of the market area towards a pay phone. Forehead knitted and curiosity peeking, Belle moved to the more crowded areas so she could see what was happening without being caught. Sneaking around was not the most elegant behavior but at this point, the girl lost all care of what was proper and improper.

Pausing behind the payphone Belle hugged the bag to her chest finally catching Yoongis’ voice speak into the call.

“Jeon family is more traditional than you think, man. They had witnesses to watch the consummation.” Anger was clear in his tone especially in the way it rasped a little more when he tried to lower his volume. “Jungkook handpicked the damn witnesses, what kind of fucked up family is this?”

Belle felt a strange air of relief hearing someone else say those words other than her screaming it over and over again in her mind. Despite the urge to thank him for reassuring her sanity, she stood still to listen when he spoke up again.

“Jungkook is adding extra security to the Gongneung den, all his strongest supplies are there. He knows there’s rats in his empire so we need to get this done before he finds a way to hide all of it again.” His voice was much lower than before.

The woman still caught all the words that were needed however. Heart pounded against her ribcages padding closer to the payphone until the worry of Yoongi seeing her did not resonate anymore.

Yoongi gave a few more words of encouragement to Namjoon before doing his checks again and the sound around him numbed. He saw a familiar reddened and teary gaze fixated on him. For a moment he wanted to believe that she just arrived not hearing a word of their conversation but he knew better than to be so naïve.

Before he could think up a strategy, Belle rushed over to the male in a huff and stood merely a breath away from him with her back pressed slightly against the phone. There was a flash of anger on her face before it faded into something that made Yoongi wish the anger could come back again so he could endure it better.

“You’re a police officer?” Bottom lip trembled and her already exhausted eyes flooded with heavy tears. “And you just watched that happen?” Belle knew why Yoongi couldn’t just burst into the room and stop the event just like she couldn’t stop Jungkook or Boyoung from going on with tradition. But the sensible side of her lost its way that night and now the girl found it far too difficult to find it.

“If I could, I would’ve shot all of them right there and then.” He murmured feeling his stomach drop at the way her voice couldn’t keep any of its usual composure anymore. “I want you to get out of this. I really do. But we need to—we need to work together if this is ever going to stop.” His words dialed down to a whisper now that their faces were merely a breath apart. It took a few minutes for him to realize that his hand was caressing her cheek, sloppily wiping away the tear that flowed down to his thumb.

How long had it been since she wanted to hear someone say those words? Someone that could help her get out of this. A part of her would have agreed in seconds, for the first time falling into another’s arms and feeling like she did not have to do anything. But the tiny yellow shoes in the bag grew heavy on her. “Yoongi—” Belle breathed out staring down at her purchase, hands shaking.

Confused eyes flickered down to follow her gaze and immediately saw the miniscule box inside the bag. “What’s wrong?” He opted to search her expression now. “Belle?” Some side of his mind tried to shout that his hand should be back in his pocket. If anyone saw the two standing this way then they would both be in trouble and none of this would be worth it. But she felt so warm and broken that he was afraid they both would fall apart if he moved even the slightest away.

Belle stammered trying to form the words somehow before sniffling. “I’m pregnant.” She sobbed lightly.

The news lingered heavily in the air between them and Yoongi felt like the wall of his mind close into this one thing. All of the things—all of these goals now stripped down to these two words that he prayed would not be true. He knew it might be possibility. He saw the whole thing happen with his own two eyes but for some reason a more naïve part of him—whatever was left of it—wanted to believe they had time. Yoongi took a deep breath before shaking his head. “It’s okay…we’ll figure it out.” He made her meet his gaze. “We’ll figure it out, I promise.”

She closed her eyes, nodding while her tears seemed to take their own freedom down her face. “Okay.” Words came out in a whisper.

The older male couldn’t help but mimic her nodding for a moment, slowly moving his hand away and hoping no one in the town recognized them. “Do you need a ride home?”

Quickly the girl shook her head feeling an ache in her belly calling the place ‘home’. It would be their child’s home. She would have to accept that someday. “Can we—” She glanced over at the bustling market. “Can we walk through the market for a little bit?” A sad smile tugged at her lips though her eyes glinted with desperation to capture any sense of false joy that came across the path.

Yoongi swallowed a small, unexpected lump in his throat before glancing at the market. “Yeah…of course.”

Maybe a few more minutes of blinded excitement could redeem that little piece of sanity.

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#jungkook #jungkook imagines #bts imagines #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #bts fanfiction #jungkook mafia au #bts mafia au

[yesttoheaven]

AMOR FATI

pairing – neil x female!reader

wc – 3.8k

warnings – mention of death, self-blame, anxious/intrusive thoughts, questioning reality, refusal of help, guns, stalking, but I swear there's a light at the end of the tunnel haha

a/n – The last time I suffered so hard for the death of a character, was when Newt died (Maze Runner) and now Neil has captured all my attention and his death has hit me in the same way 😩 I needed a happy ending so I decided to write this!

The Eternal Return and Amor Fati mentioned in this fic are one of the main ideas of Nietzsche's philosophy.

English is not my first language. I am getting help from google translator and he is not always a good ally, so I apologize for any typos or grammar errors.

Y/N – your name

She approached the painting hanging on the wall, watching the details closely. Ouroboros. A serpent eating its own tail. Months ago, when Y/N was visiting an antique store in Mumbai, she saw that same symbol. The owner of the establishment approached when she realized her interest in the piece and explained that Ouroboros represents the ideas of movement, continuity and, in consequence, Eternal Return. A concept that the universe and all existence and energy has been recurring, and will continue to recur, in a self-similar form an infinite number of times across infinite time or space.

"Max finally fell asleep." Kat returned to the living room, attracting Y/N's attention.

She walked away from the painting, taking back her seat on the sofa and asked:

"How is he after everything that happened?"

For a moment, Kat looked at the painting on the wall and then at the friend she won in the midst of confusion over the Algorithm. At that time, despite being fighting on the front lines to prevent a possible Third World War, Y/N seems complete. Happy. Today that happiness no longer exists in her eyes.

Letting out a sigh, the woman sat next to her, answering:

"Sator was never a present father. He was always busy... now i can see the kind of work he was involved in. Anyway, Max just got used to his absence."

"It's notable that he's happier at your side. When we first met Max was a bit of an introvert, but today he is radiant." Y/N confessed, showing a small smile and the blonde shook her head, agreeing with her words. "How's everything?"

"Perfectly well. It's weird sometimes... After years of being stuck in a failed relationship, freedom is good."

"It seems like life is good for one of us." The woman let out a bitter laugh, putting the latest events on a scale, but she didn’t want her friend to think she wasn’t happy for her. She really was. "I'm sorry, I just..." The words remain stuck in her throat, while she covers her face with her hands. In addition to physical and mental fatigue, Y/N tried to hide her grief.

Kat touched her shoulder, showing that she was here.

"I know you're hurt, but it's been three months and you never talked about what happened that day... This is not good for you."

"What do I have to say, Kat? The guy I fell in love with was a fucking time traveler! And now he's dead and I don't know what to do. My life just... stopped without him."

"I can imagine how difficult it's for you to cross that line without Neil at your side, but giving up is not an option. Grief is consuming you little by little and you are just accepting it..."

"We are trained to contain our emotions and deal with death in the best possible way. It used to be easy for me, but then he came and turned my life upside down." Y/N put her hands on her knees and stood up, walking without an exact destination. "Neil was always one step ahead of us all..." She stepped forward too and found the painting again, but her mind was lost in thoughts about him. Neil knew her so well. And he had a charming smile, but completely arrogant at the same time. "I was sent to Mumbai to help two agents and when I arrived at Priya's penthouse that night, there he was. When he saw me, that was the first and only time that he let his guard down. I'll never forget how he looked at me, it was one of those breathtaking moments... Completely cliché, I know."

On the sofa, Kat was impressed. When Y/N turned towards her, there was a bright smile on her face. The simple memory brought her a breath of happiness and Kat enjoyed seeing her friend like that, but unfortunately that moment did not last long. Memories aren't enough. Neil is dead and nothing can change that.

"I miss him so much, Kat." The smile disappeared as soon as tears appeared in her eyes, cascading down her cheeks.

"My dear..." Worried about her, the woman got up quickly and approached Y/N, wrapping her in a tight hug. "I'm really sorry."

"I spent the last three months locked up in my a-apartment because I thought I could handle this situation on my own. At times I b-believed it was just a fever dream... Maybe I was losing my mind, but this is proof that everything was real." Through tears blurring her vision, she looked at the watch on her wrist, remembering that night.

Y/N was in a private cabin on the ship. The others were with Ives and Wheeler, going over the mission in search of any loose ends. A standard procedure. Y/N knew she should be with them, but she needed a moment alone to organize her thoughts. And that moment is now. The past few weeks had been a real mess. The inversion was difficult to explain and mainly to understand. She was used to field missions, but being an inverted soldier on the battlefield was not in her plans. Either way, she agreed to be a part of it and running away with biased assumptions was not going to help. Humanity depends on them.

Three knocking on the door caught Y/N's attention, but she remained silent, waiting for the person to give up and leave, but when it didn't, she just murmured 'Come in'.

"So, here you are." The man used a surprised tone of voice and closed the door behind him. "What will our superior think when he learns that you are running away from the briefing?"

She let out a laugh before answering in the same mood:

"Don't worry, I know this mission like the back of my hand. I just needed a moment."

"There's something wrong? Are you ok?" Neil spilled the questions quickly, visibly concerned for her.

"Yeah, I'm fine, Neil." Y/N smiled at him, but looked away just seconds later, confessing: "Maybe I'm a little surprised by the situation. I have spent years dealing with terrorists, but the inversion is really not my point."

"I'm not good with advice, but someone once said to me: Don't try to understand. Certain things in the world do not need an explanation."

"It's wise advice, but I'm a methodical person. Logic has always been my ally in missions."

"A methodical person, huh?" He asked with an arrogant smile playing on his lips and she just rolled her eyes. "I know how worried you were when Sator shot Kat, but we are using the inversion to save the world and you're one of the most brilliant agents I have ever seen. Everything will be fine."

"Are you praising me?"

"What's that? Can't I praise my partner's talent?" Neil pulled up a chair to sit across from her, crossing his arms.

"In that case, thank you. Remind me to put this on my resume." Those words made him laugh and that sound could easily be compared to music in her ears.

Touching her knee, Neil added:

"We are very confident with the mission. You don't need to worry."

"Are you sure?"

"I cannot say that unforeseen events do not happen, but we are prepared for that." Y/N knew he was right, but this mission is the biggest one so far. It's not about saving a country. It's about saving the entire world. This was arousing insecurities in her and it was like walking in a minefield. Ironically, she was familiar with this, but not in such catastrophic proportions. "I want you to have this." The man took his watch off his wrist and handed it to her.

"What’s that supposed to mean?" The question came out as a whisper from between her lips.

It didn't make sense. Why does everything in this conversation look like a farewell?

"We will be on opposite sides tomorrow, but i want you to know... I will always be with you, Y/N."

"I saw the way he looked at you... That's how I used to look at Sator before he became a monster in my life." Kat started, running a hand through Y/N's hair. "When I was lying on that stretcher and partially drugged with the medicines, I saw him beside you... watching you sleep. There was so much love in his eyes. Love for a lifetime, Y/N. So don't do this to yourself. The way he left hurt us all, but there was nothing you or any other agent could do to change what happened at Stalask-12. Neil saved the world. This gave us a second chance. You cannot give up now. This organization needs you. And keeping your mind busy at that moment is the first step towards a fresh start."

"N-No, I can't..." She broke the hug, shaking her head in denial. "I left the organization."

"What? Don't you work for Tenet anymore? But when we first met you told me that you can't imagine working in another area... And that this is your life's work."

"Being an agent is my life's work. I was in Yemen when Tenet found me and assigned me to this mission. My only job is to make this world a less hostile place, but the motto of this organization is not what I believe, Kat. What's happened's happened. Really? It doesn't work for me." Y/N ended the sentence with drops of anger in her voice and Kat did not say a single word.

Through the newspapers, Max's mother followed what was happening in Yemen over the years – a real endless war – and knowing that Y/N was in the middle of it, makes the situation unquestionable. People died in front of her eyes. Friends of the corporation. And then some time later, Tenet arrived with a fresh start, but in the end everything remained the same. She lost Neil. It is as if her life's work never had a happy ending because the world will never stop being a hostile place.

"He knows?" It was easy for Y/N to identify who she was talking about. The Protagonist. Or just TP.

"Here's another problem. I worked with him and indirectly worked for him at the same time! God, that man created this organization! And his name remains a mystery to us all!" She pinched the tip of her nose, feeling frustrated with all the secrets that haunt this organization. "And answering your question, yes, he knows, but he did not argue about it. I was a complete mess and he was not doing very well either... He stayed in my apartment for the first month, probably to make sure I didn't do anything stupid." And Y/N would be forever grateful for that. She likes him. Just as friends, of course. TP was a reserved man, but it was he who held her when everything was falling apart. "But we've had a fight. I blamed him for what happened at Stalask-12 and since then we haven't spoken anymore."

It was easy to see that they carried more pain than they could actually bear. Y/N lost her great love and the man lost his best friend. The situation just turned into a conflict between them and that was the result.

Realizing the sadness reflected in Y/N's eyes, Kat decided to change the subject of the conversation. Keeping that thought, she smiled and pointed to the painting on the wall. Maybe that could help.

"You seemed interested in this one."

"Oh yes, in my spare time I am a lover of art and its meanings. It is really attractive the way Ouroboros is connected to the Eternal Return..."

"And Amor Fati too." Kat completed, piquing Y/N's curiosity. This part was new to her. "It's impossible to affirm the Eternal Return without loving life. We need to learn that things happen as they do. Sometimes seemingly good. Sometimes seemingly bad. We don’t always get it our way... Unless we choose that whatever way it is, is our way. When we choose to Amor Fati, to love everything that happens, to love our fate, then we will always get it our way. Because the way it is, is the way it is. Unchangable. And therefore it must be good, even if it sucks."

These words touched Y/N's heart. This was a contradiction to what she is experiencing right now. Love your fate. She would like to understand and accept what happened, she really wanted, but why is it so difficult to move on?

Because Neil is dead.

That was the only explanation for her. The end of a relationship would be more acceptable. If he were alive, things would be completely different now. However, grief is overwhelming. How could she just accept what happened?

"I... I gotta go." That was all she managed to say before picking up her bag and leave the penthouse, ignoring Kat's protests.

When the elevator doors closed, an exhausted sigh left her mouth and the instant she saw her reflection in the mirror, Y/N wanted to cry again. After three months alone, she thought visiting her friend would be a good idea. Kat was willing to help, but the problem was that Y/N is not allowing herself to be helped. As soon as the doors opened, she left the metal box and found the hotel lobby partially empty. Her watch showed it was 3:13 AM, this explains the absence of people on the street as well. In front of her car, she searched the bag for the key and coincidentally her cell phone started to vibrate. Probably the text messages were from Kat, but confusion hit Y/N the instant she looked at the identifier and saw that the messages did not belong to any of her contacts.

Stay away from the car

They put a bomb

I'm on my way

Her first reaction was to take a few steps back and look around, trying to understand what’s going on and find the person responsible for these texts, but Y/N was alone in the dark street. When she thought it might be an unnecessary prank, a black SUV approached at high speed. The car stopped just a few meters away from where she was, but that was enough to make her body freeze.

"Y/N, come on!" The man exclaimed, the urgency in his voice would have made her run immediately, but she didn't move. Her feet had frozen on the floor. This cannot be real. "Come on, get in the car! We don't have much time!" He tried again, it was possible to hear the sound of the other cars approaching.

Y/N watched in slow motion the moment he left the car and ran towards her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"How is this possible?" She asked in a whisper, completely lost in his blue eyes.

"It's good to see you too." Neil admitted, feeling his heart race. She looked so fragile in his arms. Very different from the last time he saw her. "We have to go." He accompanied her to the car and as soon as Y/N took the passenger seat, he returned to his seat.

For her this moment was like a fever dream, so she just looked down and started counting her fingers. One, two, three, four, five... Neil noticed, but said nothing, just kept driving. The cars were fast approaching, but he would do everything possible and impossible to get Y/N away from these people.

"Give me your cell phone." He looked at her for a brief moment, but when Y/N didn’t react, he wasn't sure if she heard it, so he just took the phone from her hand and threw it out the window. That was enough to get her out of the numbness:

"What the fuck, Neil?!"

Despite the adrenaline rushing through his body, the man laughed.

"If I found you because of your cell phone, they can too." After that, he crossed the red light and made a risky turn, trying to end this chase. "Before you ask, no, this is not a dream. Unfortunately this is very real..." Neil didn't like what he saw when he adjusted the rearview mirror. "And now they are getting ready to shoot us."

That observation put Y/N on alert and she looked back, seeing a man with an AKS-74U and another with a Beretta M12.

"If you knew it wasn't a dream, why didn't you bring an armored car?" She ran her tongue between her lips, smiling at the man beside her. Neil tried to argue, but she just took off her seat belt and picked up the Glock 19 stuck in the vest he was wearing.

Y/N crawled out of the car and sat at the window opening. This encouraged the men in the two cars to start shooting, trying desperately to hit her. Neil shouted something that she couldn't understand and then she felt one of his hands on her thigh, giving her stability to continue with the plan. With her arm resting on the roof of the vehicle, Y/N aimed the gun at the car that was closest to them. Her intention was not to start a firefight in the middle of one of the main avenues in the city, but she had no other option. Holding her breath, she fired the first shot and the bullet hit the tire, taking the car out of circulation. Y/N celebrated while preparing for the second car, but dealing with this one was not an easy task. Now they were in a tunnel and, consequently, losing speed because of the other cars that came along the way. Neil left two pats on her leg, indicating that she had better get back in the car and that is what she did. Screams, honks and gunshots echoed through the tunnel, turning the place into a war zone. Whoever these men were, Y/N knew they weren't going to give up.

Tired of playing cat and mouse, she went to the back seat, getting on her knees. Through the broken glass above the trunk, Y/N adjusted the aim of her gun, ignoring the sniper and focusing on the driver. With another accurate shot, the bullet hit the man's chest and he lost control of the vehicle. The car overturned for a while, streaking the asphalt, but no other car was involved in the accident. Y/N sighed in relief and looked for another possible threat, just checking, but when she realized that the area was clean, she returned to the passenger seat, leaving the gun on the dashboard in front of her.

"Next time I'm going to get an armored car." Neil comments, stepping on the gas. "Nice shot, by the way."

"Anytime." Y/N smiled, trying to control her breathing.

With the adrenaline disappearing from her body, it was hard for her to believe that this was really happening. For many nights she cried, wondering what it would be like if Neil just came back to her, but now she was afraid to wake up and realize that it was just another vivid dream.

The sun was rising when they arrived in a shed away from the city. Seen from the outside, the place was a little scary, but the interior wasn't that bad. There was some equipment like trackers, walkie-talkie, bulletproof vests, weapons, ammunition; a table with a mess of papers and on the other side two beds and something that Y/N supposed to be a private bathroom.

"Where we are?"

We. That simple word echoed in her mind. Y/N thought that "we" didn't exist anymore.

"For now in a safe place. It's dangerous for you out there." He answered the question and took a bottle of water, handing it to her after taking a generous sip.

"Who are these people, Neil?" She wanted answers, lots of answers, and that frustrated the british spy because for the first time he didn't know what could happen.

Neil had a mission and that mission ended with him dying in Stalask-12, but after what TP did, everything changed.

"We have a name..." He wanted to say more, he wanted to reassure her, but that was all he had at the moment.

Y/N drank some water and left the bottle on the table, looking at some reports and photos. All photos were of the same man.

Lenard Vaher

"But apparently they don't just want you..."

It took a few seconds and when the realization hit Y/N, concern appeared on her face.

No, not him.

"Where's TP? He's safe, right?"

"He was going to see you when Lenard's men kidnapped him. This happened three weeks ago." And considering the anger in Neil's voice, finding TP was proving an almost impossible task, but in the midst of so much concern, one point attracted Y/N's attention.

"You said he was going to see me..."

"There was something he needed to tell you." Neil sighed, resting his hands on the table. A few strands of blond hair fell over his forehead, but he quickly shook his head back, as he always did. "He returned to Stalask-12, Y/N."

After that statement, the only sound that could be heard was Neil's footsteps closing the distance between them and the first thing she did was put her hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat. Neil smiled. And that was not one of his famous smiles. That was a shy smile. His heart was beating like a drum and it was all because of her. Loving Y/N was something so special and pure, that Neil accepted his fate without a second thought. Saving the world, he was giving her a second chance to live, but now he is the one who received a second chance.

"I missed you every day." Before she could begin to consider the meaning behind his words, he settled his mouth upon hers, robbing her of thought.

She closed her eyes and melted against him, flattening her hands on his arms. Neil caught her bottom lip in his teeth, nibbling and licking at it until she thought she might perish from the intensity of the feeling. She whimpered at the sensation, and he rewarded the sound by deepening the kiss, giving her everything she desired. His tongue stroked hers, slow and insistent. A lush, decadent pleasure unfolded within them, snaking through their veins as though it had lain coiled in anticipation for years.

Just waiting for this moment.

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a/n – really hope you enjoy it and thank you soooo much for reading ;)

#neil tenet x reader #neil x reader #neil tenet #neil #robert pattinson #robert pattinson x reader #robert pattinson imagine #tenet fanfic #tenet imagine #ives tenet #tenet #neil tenet one shot #neil tenet imagine #robert pattinson one shot #neil tenet x y/n #x y/n #amor fati #eternal return

[aminiatureworld]

A Sea of Fragments IV

Word Count: 2,544

Warnings: Alcohol

Author’s Note: I somehow lost an hour at some point when writing, but here is Chapter 4! Like I said last time this is more of a continuation of Chapter 3 since I split it into two parts, but I think it’s rather good in its own right. Hope you enjoy!

You wandered between the white tents, pace fast and without any real goal. For what end destination could you truly have? You had no base, no sanctuary, nowhere you might consider home. The tent you’d borrowed was just Fatui property, and though your belongings were surely some comfort they also smacked of betrayal. For indeed you’d betrayed yourself by agreeing to this, by being so naïve as to believe that you might’ve been able to live out a perfect future, one in which the valiant knight lifts the curse of a fallen prince.

There was nowhere in this camp that was truly your own, and the outside world proved hardly more comforting. The idea of returning to your village was something you automatically shrunk from, for then the constant attention would just return, only worse now. How could you live with endless eyes staring at you from behind? No, you could not return home either. There was nowhere else then, nowhere except the rest of the world, which spread itself before you like a chasm, one that was a very large fall away. You were essentially trapped, no matter what you did you were trapped. There was nothing, nothing except this distant future you refused to let go of. But was the future worth the payment of your current misery?

Stumbling along the haphazard pathways you found yourself at what must’ve been the center of the camp. It was a surprisingly open place, the clearing large enough to fit at least one regiment, with space to spare for sparring and other such activities. You could spot two pairs doing just that, but the majority of people were sitting. Though there were a large enough number of benches in a circle the majority of the troops were lounging about the grass, a steady stream of conversation escaping their groups.

“Since I’ve never heard of anyone getting drunk off of one round, and all of you certainly don’t have water in your pouches, let’s have a toast!”

The man who spoke up was quite evidently tipsy, something that caused a twittering of laughter and scoffing amid his companions. He paid no attention to the conversation, nor to the shove on the shoulder from the man sitting next to him, the “oh Pytor” that accompanied a roll of the eyes. Standing up, somewhat shakily, he raised his glass.

“A toast to the Tsaritsa! And to the glory of Snezhnaya!”

The words made you cringe, but somehow you found yourself not the only one. Pytor’s proclamation was met with a great rolling of eyes, and even some grumbling. One woman shook her head, crossing her hands and scowling.

“And what would the Tsaritsa do with that toast of yours? If you’re going to toast someone they should at least have a vested interest in you. Besides, what do you know of the glory of Snezhnaya.”

“Oh come on Irina, cut the poor boy some slack. We can’t all be as serious as you are.”

“You know nothing of the world Misha, and neither does this idiot. I can’t help that you need some reality put into you.”

“Oh?” Pytor flashed an amused look towards Irina. “Then enlighten me Irina, who should I toast to? After all the Tsaritsa is still paying us, and that counts more than your talking.”

“Would you toast the sun because it shines\? You know she’s only paying because if not half her army wouldn’t be here. Or are you such a patriot as that, Pytor?”

“I admit, I am not.” Pytor sighed, expression twisting into one of abject sadness. The expression was so comical, you couldn’t help but giggle with the rest of the group, taking a few steps forward as to hear better. “And yet, I feel that I must toast her most beloved Majesty nevertheless, for if not I would be rotting away in some hovel, and surely you would all miss me if that were come to pass.”

“I’m not sure if Irina here would, but I would, don’t worry.” Misha piped back up, ducking as Irina went to slug him. “Anyways I frankly don’t care about any glory, at least the food is better than one would expect, even if the company is terrible.”

“I don’t know why I’m friends with you imbeciles,” Irina muttered, “you all have the curiosity of a house plant.”

“Then why do you stay?” You immediately clamped your mouth shut, uneasiness washing over you as the group turned to stare at you. Keeping your gaze slightly lowered you peered over at Irina. An odd smile spread across her face, and her eyes reflected something unreadable.

“Why do you stay?”

“Because I have nowhere else to go.” You replied, compelled to honesty despite the slight waver of your voice.

“Is it not the same for us?” Irina gestured towards the people around her. “After all, what life is there for us other than here. Half of us come from villages with no future, doomed otherwise to starvation or poverty. Where else would any of us go?”

“Yet surely there is a better option?” You pressed on, vaguely aware of the fact you were posing the question to yourself. “Surely there is better than serving someone whose goals you can’t understand, who cares not for the people around her, and under the gaze of a man who cares not at all whether you live or die?”

“What do you mean?” Misha stared at you oddly. “Are you talking about my lord, Scaramouche?”

“Lord?” You replied, not sure which urge was stronger, the urge to laugh or to cry.

“Only to his face.” Irina replied, glaring at Misha, who was laughing uncontrollably. “Although I have to agree with Misha, I don’t see why he should any worse than the rest. He manages at least to keep the sadism to a minimum around the ground troops.”

“He’s one of the worst tempered men I’ve ever met.” You blurted out.

“Perhaps.” Misha let out another string of laughter. “Still at least he runs things well enough. You’ll never catch that man skimming off the top, or the bottom for that matter. His pride would probably kill him for it.”

“Lord Scaramouche is one of the best leaders I’ve ever worked under. At least he’s never experimented on anyone else.”

“I think Dottore doesn’t count when talking about good or bad, Pytor. That one is simply in a world of his own, and all we can do is hope to never get sucked in with him.”

“You must’ve had some bad experiences with Scaramouche.” Irina tilted her head, once more bringing the conversation back to your objection.

“It’s not my fault he has a superiority complex the size of Celestia.”

“You may be right about that.” Irina replied, a wry smile conveying some odd form of approval. “Still, you can’t help it with people like them. What else is there for the man who was bred for war?”

“I suppose you’re right.” You frowned. “It almost makes me pity him.”

“Well don’t let him know that.” Misha joined in. “I think his ego wouldn’t be able to take it.”

You laughed, despite yourself.

 -------

Scaramouche wove his way through the camp, thoughts still swirling in his head. A part of him chafed at the idea of going after you, at having once more to in some way lower himself. Yet still your words echoed in his head, your accusations which caused him inexplicable irritation propelling his steps forward.

Reaching the center of the camp Scaramouche heard the familiar tones of your voice. Keeping towards the edges of the clearing he followed the sound, surprisingly jovial considering the fight you two had just experienced. Finally spying you next to a few troops he found himself caught somewhat off guard, the view of your face open with laughter killing all the thoughts he’d previously been harboring.

As if entranced he watched mutely as you conversed and joked with the people around you, voice hesitant but no less eager for it. Your words were fueled by excitement and humor, said in a sort of tone and register that Scaramouche had never before heard from you. Your laugh was warm and somewhat excited, something that the Harbinger found himself enthralled with. Never before did he understand the idea of a musical voice or laugh, at least not in terms of someone speaking. Voices were flat, screechy, deep, irritating. Voices were not warm, were not musical; one could not pin such words onto something so mundane as someone’s speech. And yet when he heard your voice all he could think of was the idea of song. Absentmindedly he wondered what it might be like if you sang.

You looked so comfortable now, so different from the sulky distrust that coated your every gesture when he was with you. A flicker of resentment stirred within Scaramouche, joined by a prickly disbelief. How was it that these people should so easily coax smiles and laughter out of you? Were they no less Fatui members than he was? It seemed almost hypocritical, how you should so quickly blame him for one thing and forgive others for that exact same situation. And yet Scaramouche didn’t want them to share in your rocky contempt. He wanted fairness, wanted to share in that openness that those so beneath him had managed to cultivate. He wanted to be acquitted of his crimes, just as you had decided to acquit those around you.  

A quick shout of “My lord” quickly broke apart this reverie. Suddenly the camp was silent, the only sound that of fabric shifting as troops stood up and bowed. Waving his hand impatiently Scaramouche made his way over to you. Your face was somewhat flushed from the liveliness of your previous conversation, your gaze suddenly weary. Saying nothing Scaramouche took your hand, glad that you followed silently, and silently cursing the soft conversation that followed the two of you.

“It seemed like you were having a good time.” Scaramouche opened, bitterness seeping through his voice. You seemed startled, stance once more closing off, an action which caused a flicker of regret to run through the Harbinger.

“I was, I didn’t think there’d be any real people here.”

“How kind of you to ameliorate your statement.”

“What do you want?” Your words were once more short, but the tone had somehow shifted. Though Scaramouche could not say what they’d shifted to.

“I…” What did he want? Surely he could not tell you of all the things he thought. Could not reveal such a weakness, such an inexplicable, incomprehensible thing.

“I’m sorry for calling you heartless.” Your tone was somewhat rushed. “I, I was angry, I couldn’t understand why you would do such a thing. I still don’t, of course I still don’t, but I shouldn’t’ve called you that. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t see why my plans should be causing you such distress.”

“And I don’t see what the Tsaritsa could need with a village’s heirloom? Perhaps if I knew it were for some noble cause I could excuse it, but I don’t know that. In fact I doubt it very much. Surely you must know?”

“It’s not my duty to question the wishes of the Tsaritsa. I only see that he will is done.”

“How?” You looked aghast. “How could you never question what you’ve been asked? You must have your own thoughts, your own feelings. How could you never question what you’ve been asked to do?”

“Because that’s not my duty. I don’t exist to question Her Majesty’s will, only to fulfill it.”

“That must be a very sad existence.” You paused staring once more at some spot in the distance, some spot Scaramouche could not see. “It must be a very lonely existence. To never be able to reveal one’s thoughts.”

Scaramouche said nothing, unsure whether the assertion was above or beneath him. Why should he question the Tsaritsa after all? She’d given him a will, a goal, a target with which to point his abilities, a place where he could expel the rage which twisted inside him. And in return he gave her his loyalty, the most he could ever give anyone. Of course he never questioned the Tsaritsa. Does a dog question his owner? Why should a mortal question the resolve, the will of a god?

“I’ll do it.”

“What?” Scaramouche asked, mind wrenched from his previous thoughts.

“I’ll do it, I’ll look into the future. I’ll find what you’re looking for. But in return you must do something for me.”

“What will it be this time?”

“Listen to me. Listen to what I see in the future, to the fragments and the branches. And tell no one else about it, about the divergences and the dangers. And no matter what make sure that the worst never happens. Because if you raze that village to the ground I will never do anything for you again.”

“Very well.” Scaramouche replied, wary of what was to come ahead. A part of him brimmed with curiosity, with the wish to glimpse inside a piece of your life; yet another part of him balked at the unsaid accusation, the idea that this venture was destined to end in failure, as if he couldn’t make sure a simple plan succeed.

“Good.”

“Come to my tent after dinner.” Scaramouche turned to go.

“Wait.”

“Yes?” Scaramouche turned back around. Your gaze was somewhat surprised, though whether it was by his actions or you words he couldn’t tell.

“I…”

"Yes?”

Scaramouche stepped closer to you. The odd expression that you’d last given him in your tent had returned, filling the Harbinger’s mind with questions. He once more felt that odd pull, the pull to be close to you, to stare, as if trying to read something incomprehensible in your expression. You leaned closer to him and he absentmindedly thought of how distinct your presence was, how he wished that it would continue to float in front of him. It was like a warm current, powerful and steadfast, dragging him somewhere he couldn’t explain yet wanted to go.

The brush of your fingers against his finally brought Scaramouche back to the present. Drawing back slightly he glanced away, embarrassed by his sudden lack of presence.

“You were saying.”

“I was? Oh! Yes…” you trailed off before shaking your head violently, cheeks slightly flushed. “Just remember not to tell anyone.”

And with that you were gone, leaving Scaramouche feeling somewhat lacking, as if he’d gained something by being next to you which was once more lost. Sighing the Harbinger thought about your parting words. The reminder of another deal, yet this one he couldn’t be sure to keep. After all, the information he possessed belonged to the Tsaritsa. If she were to ever inquire about it he’d have to tell her.

He thought back to your conversation, the pitying words you’d given him. Question the Tsaritsa? How naïve you were. And yet Scaramouche still felt that odd emptiness around him. He’d never truly understood the concept of loneliness, the need for others being a necessity for the masses. And yet as he stood there, standing amid tents with no one in sight, he suddenly felt very alone indeed.

#genshin impact #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin scaramouche #series #my writing

[gffa]

I have often given Qui-Gon Jinn a hard time because he’s so often used in STAR WARS fandom as a weapon to beat on other characters I love and it makes it difficult to like him, as well as it overshadows who the character himself is. So, to help balance that out some, I wanted to do a set of recs to remind myself–and just share some happiness in!–that I actually do very much like Qui-Gon! He’s a good person who really loved the people around him, he cared very deeply, he had an amazing friendship with Yoda (seriously, that Yoda’s the one he reaches out to when he becomes a Force Ghost, that even after death, Qui-Gon loves his Jedi family, it gives me feelings in my feelings place every single time), and one of my favorite things about Master & Apprentice is that I often got the impression that he knew he was kind of obnoxious sometimes, but he was at peace with it, he was fine with that. That was a straight shot to my heart, I love that dude! So, here have some fics that celebrate that Qui-Gon is actually a really great character. He may not always be the central character, but I remember him being well portrayed in these and they gave me good Qui-Gon feelings! STAR WARS - QUI-GON JINN FIC RECS: ✦ Reprise by Elfpen, obi-wan & qui-gon & anakin & dooku & mace & cast, time travel, 491.1k wip    Ben Kenobi dies aboard the Death Star in the year 0 BBY. He wakes up shortly thereafter in the Jedi temple in the year 41 BBY. Haunted by memories and regret, Ben must forge a new path for himself in the Jedi Order of his youth while navigating the murky waters of time travel. Crafting a better future from bitter experience is hard, but learning to heal is even harder. Major AU. ✦ The Way Back Home by Anakinstopyourpanakin, happygiraffe, obi-wan & qui-gon & bant & tahl, 39.5k wip    He had been missing for nearly four years. How could Obi-Wan be alive? It was too good to be true, and simultaneously too horrifying. What had been done to the innocent child who was currently falling asleep against his shoulder, and did his wounds run too deep for Qui-Gon to mend? ✦ When the world gets too heavy put it on my back by nematoda, obi-wan & anakin & qui-gon, 29.8k    Obi-Wan is different when it comes to relationships. Not in a bad way, just… different. Studies of platonic love in the life of Obi-Wan Kenobi, exploring the master/padawan relationship with Qui-Gon and eventually with Anakin. ✦ Shadows of the Future by stormqueen873, obi-wan & anakin & qui-gon & cast, 129.3k    ObiWan lost the duel on Mustafar, but instead of dying, he finds himself on a ship leaving Tatooine, with his old Master and a familiar young boy. As events begin to unfold, can he stop the future he knows from occuring? ✦ No Galaxy for Good Jedi by Annie_Walker, obi-wan & anakin & padme & qui-gon & dooku & yoda & cast, some obi-wan/satine, sith!qui-gon, 124.8k wip    Obi-Wan Kenobi was only a young padawan when he ran away with three-year old Anakin. He had no choice after his Master, Qui-Gon Jinn, fell to the Dark Side by Master Dooku’s manipulations. ✦ Masters and Padawans: Three Generations by GirlwithCurls98, qui-gon & obi-wan + obi-wan & anakin + anakin & ahsoka, 24.6k    Three generations of incredible bonds. ✦ What Is My Heritage? by Marnie, qui-gon & yoda, 7.7k    Qui-Gon, age 13, tries to find a place to belong. ✦ Coming Home by Marnie, qui-gon & yoda & dooku, 18.1k    A story telling how Qui-Gon comes to be Dooku’s apprentice. ✦ Trust Me by Charmisjess, dooku & qui-gon, 2k    A certain Jedi Master is less than pleased about being laid up with the flu. ✦ Triviality and QuiGon by Charmisjess, dooku & qui-gon, 4.1k    The Council’s infinite cruelty gives Dooku the most brutal of punishments: quality time with the Padawan and his plantlife! ✦ Rainy by Charmisjess, dooku & qui-gon, 26.8k wip    A seemingly easy mission goes horribly wrong for Padawan Qui and Master Dooku as they struggle to battle an insane adversary, poisons and curses, and an awful lot of rain. ✦ The Luckiest Man Alive + Letting Go by Elfpen, obi-wan & qui-gon & dooku & yoda, 7.9k    Yoda, Dooku, and a twenty four year old QuiGon go to the small planet of Omartia to pick up a forcesensitive infant. + Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan go to pick up a Force-sensitive child. On the way back, Qui-Gon is faced with the fact that someday very soon, he will have to let Obi-Wan go. ✦ Lineage by ruth baulding, obi-wan & qui-gon & xanatos & cast, 35.9k    AU!Jedi Apprentice. Book I: In which master and apprentice meet for the first time, enjoy a disastrous adventure courtesy of Xanatos DuCrion, and reap the fruits of patience and fortitude. A fanciful retelling of the original. ✦ Lineage II by ruth baulding, obi-wan & qui-gon & cast, 40.9k    A year or so has elapsed since the last time we saw our heroes. BOOK 2: In which master and apprentice investigate an evil brainwashing plot, attend a boisterous wedding, and battle the enemy within. ✦ Lineage III by ruth baulding, obi-wan & qui-gon & dooku & xanatos & bant & cast, 49.4k    AU!Jedi Apprentice. Book III: Master and apprentice face an important rite of passage, grapple with a traitorous plot within the Temple’s walls, and discover the limits of obedience and intuition. Appearances by Bant Eerin, Xanatos DuCrion, Yan Dooku, and others. ✦ Lineage IV by ruth baulding, obi-wan & qui-gon & siri & adi gallia, 39.3k    Master and apprentice endure a stint with the Agri-Corps, and find that trouble has a way of coming home to haunt them. Featuring a pile of bantha poodoo, a tentacled carnivorous plant, a desperate escaped convict, and a highly provocative young woman. ✦ Lineage V by ruth baulding, obi-wan & qui-gon & tahl (& some qui-gon/tahl) & dooku & cast, 50.7k    An evil scientist wreaks havoc when she captures Jedi Knight Tahl Uvain for purposes of obscure research; Qui-Gon Jinn and his Padawan rush to the rescue, only to be embroiled in further trouble; and Master Dooku joins in the hunt with characteristic aplomb. ✦ Lineage VI by ruth baulding, obi-wan & qui-gon & cast, 66.2k    Master and apprentice undertake a risky undercover mission to expose conspiracy in a far-flung sector; a comedy of manners abruptly transforms into a nightmare when their cover is blown; and a desperate escape gambit strikes deep at the foundations of trust. ✦ Lineage VII by ruth baulding, obi-wan & qui-gon & siri & adi gallia & some obi-wan/siri, 74.5k    Sent to the aid of their fellow Jedi on a disastrous mission to New Apsolon, master and apprentice contend with brainwashing, genocide, conspiracy, and the perilous realm of the heart. ✦ Lineage VIII by ruth baulding, obi-wan & qui-gon & cast, 83.4k    Hard on the heels of the mission to Apsolon, master and apprentice find new troubles - in their own backyard. Jenna Zan Arbor faces prosecution for her crimes; the Jedi grapple with the disastrous realities of corruption and personal loss; Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon undertake perilous and disparate quests. ✦ Lineage IX by ruth baulding, obi-wan & qui-gon & dooku & cast, 61k    A year after parting ways, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon struggle to complete their self-appointed quests for enlightenment and justice. ✦ Lineage X by ruth baulding, obi-wan & qui-gon & dooku, 49.2k    The war-ravaged world Melida-Daan is backdrop to a manhunt, an occult conspiracy, a bitter guerilla conflict, and a test of ultimate loyalties. ✦ Lineage XI by ruth baulding, obi-qan & qui-gon & cast, 56k    The disastrous situation on Melida-Daan takes a turn for the worse; the Jedi dispatch a team to capture a dangerous murderer; and Qui-Gon Jinn and his former apprentice face the consequences of their rebellion. Series finale. ✦ Snakefic by esama, obi-wan & anakin & qui-gon & yoda & cast, 6k    It was only the matter of time before the egg hatched. ✦ Strokes of Colored Grey by Elfpen, obi-wan & qui-gon, 9.5k    ObiWan has been drawing since he was a small youngling, but only a few people know, including his teacher, Vianro Dleka, and the elderly, trustworthy archivist, KinWan Terius. But what happens when his master discovers his secret? ✦ Pies, Books, and Swords, obi-wan & qui-gon/tahl, 1.2k    Qui-Gon Jinn has made quite a good name for himself, as far as holonet cooking shows go. ✦ They Are by Charmisjess, dooku & qui-gon, 1.7k    This is their moment, their eternity. They think its going to be like this forever. ✦ Strongest Stars by Elfpen, obi-wan & qui-gon & chirrut & cast, 2.6k    The Force works in mysterious ways. A few quiet moments in the dark create a touchstone spanning across three generations, two orthodoxies, a war, time, space, and the galaxy. A maverick meets a visionary and listens for a song. Spoilers for Rogue One, sort of? ✦ Anecdotally by Elfpen, obi-wan & qui-gon & cast, 14.6k    The biggest stories are always made up of smaller ones. Here are some of the forgotten moments in the life of Obi-Wan Kenobi. Will feature a wide variety of genres, characters, eras, and AUs. 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Now, the two must go undercover to stop Dooku’s plans from coming to fruition in order to save not only the future, but also young Obi-Wan Kenobi and Qui-Gon Jinn. ✦ The First Trial by Raven_Knight, obi-wan & qui-gon, 2k    Accompanied by his Master, Qui-Gon Jinn, young Obi-Wan Kenobi undergoes his first trial and rite as a Padawan Learner on the frozen planet of Ilum. ✦ Hearts Entwined by KeeperofSeeds, obi-wan & shmi & qui-gon, time travel, 6.5k wip    stolen moments between Padawan Kenobi and Shmi Skywalker, glimpsed by Qui Gon Jinn, and his continued attempts to understand both this strange new addition to the Temple and the unexplained relationship between the pair ✦ Highly Dissatisfied by Raven_Knight, obi-wan & qui-gon, 1.1k    Obi-Wan enters the quarters he shares with his Master, intending to ask for help in preparation for his exams. 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And maybe, if he’s lucky, he can finally make amends with his former master and save them all in the process. ✦ We Start and End With Family by Batsutousai, feemor & qui-gon & obi-wan & yoda & cast, time travel, 8.8k    Qui-Gon had been mostly joking when he’d originally brought up the idea of a lineage dinner, but when his former padawan grabbed for the idea with both hands and a desperation Qui-Gon didn’t understand (and privately hoped he never would), he knew he would never be able to refuse. ✦ turning dust right into gold by blackkat, mace/qui-gon & depa & cast, 1.3k    Mace knows Depa too well. She’s absolutely going to do something terrible, particularly for Mace’s dignity. ✦ A Price to Be Paid by Peach_Bitters (Starf), qui-gon & dooku & cast, 3.1k    Young Qui-Gon learns there’s a price to be paid for his curiosity. ✦ For the Future of the Order by thetorontokid, obi-wan & qui-gon & cast, 3.9k    There are important lessons to be found in the Jedi Temple crèche.

#qui gon jinn #obi wan kenobi #dooku #yoda #mace windu #xanatos du crion #fic recs #star wars fic recs #long post #really long post

[fweasleyswhore]

F.W. Who We Are

Chapter Two: Your Least Favorite Color

Chapter One

a/n chapter two my lovlies!! i rlly wanted to pump this out p fast bc ive been having so much fun with it and i hope you are too!

summary: fred and george tell you their plan for their prank. fluff with a pinch of angst.

word count: 3k

warnings: some touching??? uncomfy situation??

tags: @you-make-children-cry @levylovegood @bohemianspacebabe

comment a request to be added to my taglist !

“Snape’s least favorite color?” I laughed out. “I think you mean, like, any color. I mean has he ever worn anything that isn’t black?”

I was now seated in a small semblance of a circle on the floor of the Gryffindor common room, Fred and George in front of me. It was most definitely past curfew but because tomorrow was Saturday I really didn’t care, the time was the last thing on my mind. The most present thought I had was how the hell Fred and George were going to change the color of all the cauldrons in Snape's room and get away with it. 

“Well, now that you bring it up, I do believe I saw him in robes that looked rather navy instead of black.” George pondered, looking up to the ceiling and tapping his chin as if he was deep in thought. 

“Oh bug off!” I laughed and smacked him on the arm. He looked at his arm with wide eyes, his smile gone. Before I could ask if I was too forceful he was pretending to cry, a little too loud than he should’ve considering it was well past 12 and I am technically trespassing. None of us cared though or even thought to care as we watched George grasp onto his brother’s arms like it was the last thing he would ever do. 

“I-I don’t want to die Freddie.” He whispered. His grip tightened onto his brother as he spoke again. “Freddie, I…” He then let out a loud, fake sob. “There’s so much I haven’t done.” He dropped his head and shook it. I rolled my eyes, how long was he going to keep this up? 

Fred brought his hands up to cradle his brother’s head. “It’s ok George, you can let go, it’s ok.” He looked into his brother’s eyes tearfully, “I’ll help you…”

Before George could react Fred lifted one of his hands and swiftly flicked him on the forehead. George let out a loud groan and spasmed a bit in Fred’s arms, I watched with narrowed eyes as he seized up and shook. 

“You look more like a fish out of water than a dying man,” I said smugly. George rose up and fixed his hair. He looked over to me with a glare and his tongue out. I laughed fully, the situation and everything, as well as some sleep deprivation, catching up on me. I threw my head back, clutched my stomach, and rolled around for what felt like hours. Once I had started I couldn’t stop. 

“I didn’t think it was that funny,” George whispered to Fred. “Maybe we have finally broken her?”

“Maybe…” Was all Fred was able to say back, too caught up with the beautiful girl in front of her to even fully process George's words. 

Finally calming down due to the sharp pain building up in my stomach from laughing so hard, I painfully pushed myself to sit up straight. Leaning on the couch behind me I tried to catch my breath while gripping my stomach. I could feel my face was flushed, my hair was a mess but I couldn’t care. Although the pain that coursed through my body, I was still smiling, looking at the two boys in front of me. Focusing on George I saw that he looked at me with a look of disbelief and amusement, rolling my eyes at him I focussed on Fred ready to be met with the same expression. 

What I was met with nearly made me roll over again. 

The way he looked at me made the rest of the world evaporate. I lost my breath. He smiled at me, but it wasn’t amused or disbelieving like George, he smiled at me with pure content, like watching me writhing around on the floor was the best use of his time. His eyes flickered with something, his usual gleam of mischief no longer evident but what was currently being held I couldn’t decipher. My whole face flushed even more if that was possible, I was praying in my head he didn’t notice it. I diverted my eyes from his gaze, trying to hide my red face as I adjusted into the position I held before I broke out in laughter. 

“Maybe red?” I tried to steer the conversation back to its previous topic, my voice quivered, making me cringe and I hope that the boys didn’t notice or just wrote it off. 

“If we make them red he will know a Gryffindor did it, that’s the equivalent of a murderer leaving a ransom note with his name on it.” George retorted. I sighed, relieved he didn’t say anything. Bringing my gaze up to meet theirs I looked between them, they were both staring at the floor, obviously lost in thought. I brought my gaze to the fire behind them. I pulled my lip in between my teeth trying to focus on a specific color that would make the blood drain from Snape’s face. 

Snape was the head of the Slytherin house, and though that relation, I absolutely despised him. He was terribly rude to Gryffindors for no bloody reason, being that my friends mostly consisted of Gryffindors, he was terribly rude to me as well. He never took points away from me specifically, knowing it would reflect badly on him, but he took the absolute piss out of any Gryffindor around, often even subjected me to long detentions for minor offenses. I have to watch my step around him, even my breathing could set him off, send a nasty glare, or even grade my way. Being a Slytherin though, there was not much I could do about it except accept it, and that made my blood boil under the surface. 

“Perhaps,” I started, my gaze was still trained on the dancing fire behind the boy. “Hot pink would suffice?” 

Lifting my gaze from the fire I glanced between the two. 

“Wicked.” They said in unison. They had these stupid grins on their faces that made me giggle. 

The rest of the night was spent actually completing the plan, or trying to and getting distracted. The day before we leave for Christmas break we would sneak into his room, Fred and George would hide in the back of the room while I waited for Snape to arrive. I would ask him to help me find a book in the library about potion making because “I had really been struggling this past year in his class”. Total lie, I knew what I was doing Snape just hated to give me the grade I deserved. 

Considering Mrs. Pince was on maternity leave he would have no option but to say yes. The boys would hex the cauldrons then run back to the Gryffindor common room where Harry and Ron were ready to provide an alibi. It flowed well, the potions section of the library was in the back and far up, Ron and Harry were more than happy to take the piss out of Snape, and Snape knew that because I was in his house I would never do anything directly against him for fear of being expelled. 

Although I knew there would be no evidence for Snape to use against me I was still quite nervous but the thought of the shit eating grins it would provide the twins gave me enough courage to agree. They always made me happy, it was only fair I do the same for them. 

Once it was mildly solidified in our brains we let the conversation drift, topics from quidditch to the worst animal to transfigure as filled up what should’ve been a quite common room at that hour, and never once did I feel bored.  

-

The feeling of someone shaking my shoulders brought me back to reality. I opened my eyes to a rather bright and blurry mess of red around me, quickly shutting them again I groaned, swatting at my attacker. My lazy attempts fell short never actually hitting anyone. 

“That was lame.” Hermione laughed. 

I opened one eye to glare at her. “Considering I was blind I think they were ferocious.” I shot back. 

She laughed again. “Well I don’t know how late you stayed up, but it’s quarter to 9. Breakfast ends at 10.”

“I have so much time, why must you hurt me ‘Mione?” I huffed running a hand down my face. 

“Because Saturday is blueberry pancake day!” She said half singing. “Also I figured you would want to shower and get ready before we go to Hogsmede.” I groaned again but I knew she was right. I threw my hands over my face and rubbed my eyes before opening them, this time the brightness nor the redness of the room affected me. 

“What would I do without you?” I asked sitting up. Now in a seated position I could see my surroundings. I was laying longways on the couch, a robe sprawled over me like a makeshift blanket. Hermione stood behind me, her hands rested on the armrest that my head was just against.

“Probably dead, due to these two.” I couldn’t see her but I knew she was talking about the twins. I turned my head around and smiled at her. 

Squinting around the common room I could see George curled up in a loveseat by the fireplace, he sat sideways, his head against the back of the chair while his arms hugged one of his legs tightly to his chest, his other leg was thrown over the armrest. I giggled at the sight of him in such an unnatural position, it could not be comfortable with his long limbs. I searched the room for Fred. He wasn't in the other seats by the fireplace or the other couch pushed against the wall. 

My heart plunged into my stomach at the thought that he went up to his dorm, I wasn’t completely sure why it hurt me so much. It made sense for him to have left, but part of me just felt pained at the fact that George stayed and not him. Of course I liked George but not in the way I liked Fred. George was like a brother to me, he was a best friend. Fred was something more than that, not that he knew, I would never admit it to him much less our friends, but that didn’t stop the longing I felt for him, hoping that he felt the same way too. 

Finally I found him and all the doubts I had before were void upon seeing him. He laid on his stomach on the floor next to the couch. One arm under the pillow supporting his head that was facing me and the other thrown across the floor. He didn’t have a blanket on him and his robe wasn’t in sight. His hair was slightly brushed in his face and I had to refrain from leaning down and brushing it out of his eyes. I let out a small laugh realizing he was using the pillow that I threw at George the night before. 

Turning around again to Hermione I spoke again. “You’re completely right.” She rolled her eyes with a smile before exiting the common room muttering something about the work she needed to do that day. 

I stretched and readjusted, pulling my legs to my chest while figuring the best way to get up without disturbing Fred. I balled up the robe that was laid across me, still trying to figure out how to navigate my way out of the common room. 

There was a small space near his arm on the floor, taking it as my best shot to then jump around him. I carefully placed my foot down, making sure not to step on him. Shifting my weight onto that foot I began to move my other leg to go around his back. 

Slowly crouching to get some momentum I jumped, but before my foot could even leave the ground a strong arm grabbed my ankle. Taken by surprise I let out a small shriek before falling onto the couch and then sliding onto the floor. 

I was met with Fred, smirking at me with half lidded eyes. 

“Trying to sneak off with my robe are you?” He said smugly. His voice was deeper and raspier than it usually was and had an immediate effect on my body, my legs weakened and my face burned. I was thanking Merlin I was already sitting and flushed from the fall.

“What are you on about Weasley.” I whisper-yell at him. 

He released my ankle, something I hadn’t even noticed he was still holding until I felt uncharacteristically cold where his touch had been only moments ago. He used his now free hand to point at the balled up robes in my arms. 

“You did not just make me fall on my arse only to accuse me of stealing my robes!” I whisper yelled again, although a tad louder than last time. 

He cocked an eyebrow at me. “Your robes? I wasn’t aware we had joint custody over my clothing Y/L/N, but since you want them so bad I suppose you can keep them, red looks good on you by the way.” He shot me a wink at the end of his remark. His confidence and cockiness just upset me further. Although he was unnervingly annoying I couldn’t help the grin that split onto my face at his own stupidity. 

I rolled my eyes and unbunched the robes to show him the green that adorned them, but once they were unrolled I saw the red fabric. My eyes shot wide open, I could feel my eyebrows scrunch together in confusion. 

“But…” I couldn’t even form a whole sentence, this didn’t make sense. “You hexxed my robes!” I shot at him. It was the only logical conclusion I had come up to that he had planned this. 

The laugh he was holding back erupted from his mouth. His morning voice made it much deeper than his actual laugh. The rings of his laughter normally made my body hot but this was a whole new level. 

He didn’t say anything, just brought his hand up to my collar and tugged. Looking down I saw that I was still wearing my robes. Never took them off. 

I groaned and threw my face into my hands which only made him laugh harder. He peeled my hands away from my face and held them in his much larger ones. “I would never hex your clothes,” I could feel my face heat up at his words, the genuine tone and the lower octave of his voice sent shockwaves through my whole system. “At least not red, I’d make them purple!” He stuck his tongue out at me and I playfully swatted his shoulder. He knew that was my least favorite color. 

I stood up and threw his robes at his face. “See you in the Great Hall.” And with that I grabbed my shoes and walked out as quickly as possible. I could hear him still laughing as I got to the portrait hole but kept going trying to calm down and get the flush off my face, both from our proximity and embarrassment. 

-

I had thrown on my favorite muggle outfit. Going to Hogsmede was a tradition but the excitement was still there which qualified for a little dressing up. It wasn’t anything special, just plain light wash jeans, a white turtleneck and an oversized orange button up I managed to steal from the twins. All pulled together with a little accessorizing I thought I looked rather good. 

Walking out of my dorm and into the Slytherin common room there was an evident pep in my step. I was happy but a fool wouldn’t be. Stepping towards the exit of the common room someone just had to ruin my fun. 

“Not going out with the Weasels again are you Y/L/N?” Draco drawls. Turning I see him snickering with Crabbe and Goyle before standing and waltzing up to me, arrogant as ever. 

“What is it to you Malfoy?” I spit at him. I was not going to let him ruin today. 

“Well you got so pretty today, Weasleys do not know how to appreciate such expensive things, they can’t afford them, how would they know how to? You deserve someone who knows how and can express their appreciation in equally expensive ways.” He laughed out. He lifted his hand to caress my cheek. His touch made me cringe, his hands were cold and his demeanor was uninviting. Everything about him made me recoil. 

I grabbed his wrist and threw his hand down. “I hope you don’t mean someone like yourself Malfoy. I’m not sure how you even know how to use a hand like that, it looks as though it hasn’t done a day of work in its life. Is that something you are really proud of?” I threw my words at him like daggers. Steam rolling off of me. I could see him change under my glare, his confidence shrank and his anger grew, his relaxed expression was soon replaced by his snarl he adorned everywhere Harry was near, his back stiffened and his fists balled up. 

“Never, touch me again Malfoy.” I turned on my heel and stormed out. Before reaching the exit I thought of something though. 

“Future advice,” I turned again so I was facing him. He hadn’t moved and still looked at me venomously as before. He lifted an eyebrow at my comment, urging me to go on. “Money can’t buy consent.” 

His face darkened and I had to turn quickly to stop myself from all out laughing at him. I’m sure that if I stayed I could have watched him have his temper tantrum but frankly I wasn’t interested. My interest laid with the redhead waiting for me at the doors of the Great Hall. The same one who smiled at me as I walked up to him and poured my juice for me when we sat down. Fred Weasley had me totally, inconceivably, and utterly smitten, and I was completely ok with it. The harder I fell the sweeter it would feel when he caught me. 

Or I hoped. 

#fred and george #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #harry potter #weasleys wizard wheezes #george weasley fluff #fred weasley fanfiction #the weasly twins #fred weasley fluff #fred wealsey fic #harry potter characters #harry potter fanfiction

[clearlydiamondz]

Make Up For It

Erik Stevens x OC

Part ONE

p.2

---------------------------

After a year of not seeing Erik, Jada has been faced with him in a sticky situation. 

Warnings: Blood, Mention of Medical Procedure

--------------------------

Jada laid back into the bathtub, letting the smell of the sweet candles fill her senses. She needed this.. in so many ways than others. After working 12 hours all week this week in the ICU, she was finally off for the next three days. She spoiled herself with some crab legs and dirty rice. She caught up in some of her reality T.V and her favorite anime (7 Deadly Sins), and now she was relaxing in her bath tub. 

She was dozing off until she heard the noise coming from her downstairs. Instantly she jolted up. At first she just thought it was her imagination until she heard whispers. She got out the bathtub before walking into her bedroom and grabbing her pistol that her brother King, got her to protect herself. She wrapped the black robe around her body before slowly opening her door. 

She walked down the stairs, holding the pistol taking it off of safety. She turned the corner to hear the talk get louder. “I thought you said she was off these days?” She recognized that voice. It was her brother.

“I thought she was here.” She recognized that voice too. How could she not? That was her ex-boyfriend. Erik Stevens. Gosh she missed him. How could she not? They’ve been together since high school. She was his right hand women while he ran his empire. But after a really bad break up, she cut all ties with him. Now it’s been almost year since she last seen him. 

“Bruh let’s just dip.” That was a voice she did recognize. 

She turned on the lights before saying, “Give me a reason why I shouldn’t put a bullet in each of your knee caps.” she said. That was until she saw Erik and the other boy holding her brother up. “What the hell happened to him?” she said putting the gun on safety and placing it on the side table. 

“We were at the club, next thing you know gun shots were being ring. He got hit.” Erik said as she closed her eyes. He was lying out his ass.��

“Lay him down on the couch.” he was laid down as he groaned. She unbuttoned his shirt seeing the wound. “What time did this happen?”

“Not even 30 minutes ago..” her brother said as she nodded licking her teeth. 

“So you guys think I’m stupid.. right?” she said looking at the two of them. 

“What are you even talking about?”

“If this happened 30 minutes ago, why is there brown dried up blood already around the wound. And you can see around the area where the skin in starting to die.”  she said pointing it out. “I know you like the back of my hand, you’re lying to me.” she snapped standing up pointing at Erik.

“We ain’t lying it’s-”

“I’m sorry.. who are you?”  she asked the random man.

“Oh, I’m DJ.” he said as she looked between the three of them. She stood up.

“Tell me what happened.” she said looking at the three, as Erik rolled his eyes.

“Bruh we’re not fucking lying.” 

“Okay.. play dumb then. I’ma play along with ya ass.” she walked to her kitchen, grabbing her house phone dialing 911. “Wait wait, don’t call 911!” King exclaimed. He looked at Erik nodding his head. 

“We were doing a raid between one of the rivals, it went left. They hit him and we just came back into town.” Erik said as she closed her eyes. 

“Why didn’t you guys go to a fucking hospital!” she yelled at him as King scoffed.

“And risk going to jail. No thank-”

“Shut up King! Do you not understand that you could have died! I don’t give a fuck about none of that shit!” she snapped at him. King sat back, listening to his sister. “And the fuck am I suppose to do? I don’t have supplies here?” she asked Erik tilted his head in confusion. 

“What about the emergency kit we had.”

“I threw it out. Supplies in there was expired. And why would I keep knowing that you-” she stopped herself before looking at her brother. “You need to take him to the hospital. The wound is already getting affected.” she told them as King groaned. 

“Jada look, I understand you’re mad at us but-”

“This does not have anything to do with being mad, look at my fucking brother Erik.” she snapped at him.

“Jada… please. I can’t go back to jail man.” King said to her. She saw the tears building up in his eyes as she scratched her forehead. “Someone stay here with him, we can go to the pharmacy up the road to get supplies.” she said turning around. She walked back up the stairs to get dress.

“I’ll go with her.” DJ said as Erik scoffed. 

“Nah nigga.. I see the way you lookin at her and that shit ain’t happening.” Erik said. DJ stared down at Erik crossed his hands over his chest. “You tryna fuck my-”

“Aye.. first of all that’s my fucking sister you’re talking about. And two, I’m right here.” King said as Erik rolled his eyes. Jada came back down with grey stacked sweatpants, a black tank top, and black flip flops. She had a white rag in her hand before walking to King. She took off the button up as he winced out. 

“Hold this on his wound. I don’t know how much blood he lost so let’s try and keep what he has in his body please. Put pressure on it.” she told him. He followed her instructions before grabbing her keys and her gun placing it in her waistband. 

“Nah, we are driving my car-”

“Do you really think you’re in the position right now to make any decisions?” she cuts him off. Erik smacked his teeth listening to her. He’s not even going to lie, he miss this. She was the only one on planet Earth that he allowed to talk to him like that. 

“Plus, if what you said is true, there are people from the raid all over this city looking for you. You’re car is probably being searched for as we speak.” she said making her way to the garage. They got into her car, as she backed out of the driveway. They rode through the dead city, the car silent. 

“You know I didn’t mean for him to get hurt.. right?” she gripped the steering wheel, before nodding. 

“Erik I know..” she said looking at the road. “But you didn’t have to lie..” she reminded him. 

“I just know how you get when it comes down to him..” 

“Yeah but you also know that I don’t like being left in the dark.” she said pulling into the parking lot. She found a close parking spot before stepping out. He followed her inside seeing her grab the things she needed. 

“We need to stop by the hospital. There’s a couple of things that we need to get that they don’t have in here.” she said. 

After paying for everything, they made their way to the hospital. “Stay here.” he instructed her. “No I need to come with you.”

“Erik It’s fine.. I got this,” she walked into the 

“Excuse me, who are you?”

“Oh I’m the lead for the ICU unit. I left my charger in the break room and came by to pick it up.” she said as the nurse looked her up and down. 

“Yeah. Hopefully it’s still in there.” You know how people can get with their sticky fingers.” she joked as Jada chuckled. She went to the supply closet before grabbing some of the items she needed. She made her way out to the car to see Erik sitting in the car. 

“You got everything.” 

“Yeah, let’s head back.”

After this little procedure, she had them put him in one of the spare bedrooms she had in her house. She told them to leave the room so she could have privacy with her brother. She sat on the floor on the side of the bed as he looked at her. “I know this isn’t how you wanted to spend you day off.” he said to her as she nodded.

“I’m so glad you know so..” she said to him as he chuckled. 

“I’m sorry that I lied to you..” he randomly said as she chuckled. 

“I’m just glad that you’re alive...” she told him as he nodded. There was silence before he spoke up. “You know Erik still wants to be with you.” he said as she scoffed. 

“Erik is the least of my worries right now, no offense.” she told him as he chuckled. 

“I’m serious, give that nigga a chance. Do you know how much he’s obsessed with you? Asking me every other day are you okay? Do you need money? Like damn call her your damn self.” he mocked him as he chuckled. Jada looked down on at the ground playing with her hands. 

“You need to rest. I’ll be back in a few hours to refill your IV.” she told him. She kissed him on the forehead before turning the lights off and walking out his room. Erik stood on the other side of the hallway.

“How’s he doing?” 

“He’s fine, he didn’t loose that much blood thankfully.” she said. 

“That’s good.” he said putting his hands in his pockets.

“I need to talk-” “Can we talk?”

They both said at the same time. They both laughed before she said, “Let’s go to my bar and have a drink?”

They walked to her bar as she grabbed two whiskey glasses, pouring some Hennessy into each one. He grabbed it before taking a sip. “I miss you..” was all she said before he looked at her leaning against the counter. He smirked bringing the glass to his lips. 

“That must’ve been really hard to admit.. huh?” she hit him in the arm as he chuckled. He placed the glass on the counter before looking her up and down. 

“I missed you too... that whole situation spiraled outta control honestly. And it’s a shame that shit had us to stubborn to not talk to each other for almost a damn year.” he said as she sighed looking down. 

“What does that mean for us?” she asked him as he walked closer to her closing the gap. He basically towered over her making her weak in the knees. 

“I feel like we both know.” he whispered to her. “I don’t know about you, but I got a lotta of making up to do.” he said hooking his index finger along the strap of the tank top. He let it hang off her shoulder as tilted her head over. He placed soft kisses on her shoulder as she sighed in pleasure.

“I have to makeup for a birthday, valentines day.” he whispered. He undid the other strap. 

“Erik..” she whispered as he pulled away from her. 

“Can I make it up to you?”

#killmonger fanfiction #eriksteven #erik kilmonger #killmonger