#me : the world has never been better. I could personally fight the sun and win. My energy is plentiful

[norrisleclercf1]

Bad Reputation

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Sainz!Reader

Rating: PG-13

Words: 2.2K

Requested: Yes/No

Request: Omg this is random but can you pls write bad reputation max x super good girl reader? Like everyone says she shouldn’t go for max and criticising their relationship, saying he’s bad for her and whatever but they just don’t know him like she does and we all know max is the sweetest person irl (and Netflix is a bitch for pushing a bad agenda about him) and it’s just all the sweet secret moments they have between them? Kinda like the song ‘call it what you want’ by taylor swift & delicate (‘my reputations never been worse, so you must like me for me’) 🥺

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, secret relationship, Papa and Carlos are fuckers, Carlos is a petty bitch, nothing major honestly

Max Verstappen The Notorious Bad Guy That Stole A Championship 

You scuff at the news article on your phone. How ridiculous. Not only was it dragging up old wounds, but distasteful simply due to Max dominating right now. 

"Something wrong?" Your eyes peer at your brother over your sunglasses. "No, just another distasteful article about Max again." You try to reign in the anger of your words, but it's evident as the man across from you raises his eyebrow. "You defend him too much." Rolling your eyes, you want to bite back that you don't. 

It'd be a lie, of course. You knew Max better than everyone else. Yet, you had to keep that hidden from the world. "You're just jealous because he's been kicking your ass." Sticking your tongue out at your brother Carlos who flips you off. "Carlos, you put your finger down right now." Your mother hisses, fixing your hair which has you moving away. 

"She's not a baby, Mama," Carlos grumbles, leaning back into the lawn chair. "Carlos, your sister is a good girl. Don't sully her eyes." Your mother sighs, placing plates of food down. "Mama, stop. I'm not a child." You grumble, lowering the brightness on your phone. 

You hated having to hide your relationship with Max. But, he was known to have a horrible temper, foul-mouthed, cheater, thief, and everything else under the sun. But, to you? He was calm, a boy who grew into a man too quickly, chasing the records to be etched into greatness. Max's foul mouth was never pointed at you. That mouth gave you soft promises and sweet nothings. 

Everyone judged him because of DTS, his radios, and the fact he had no remorse when it came to the races, driving hard and winning hard. They needed someone to blame, and Max was the easy escape for fans and teams alike. 

I saw the article. You didn't steal it. You won fairly. They don't want to admit it. 

Hitting send, you place your phone on your lap, waiting for a reply. You knew it'd be late in Monaco as you enjoyed the summer break with Carlos back home in Spain. Throughout the night, you kept checking your phone, unable to help yourself. A soft buzz on your lap has your smile growing more than usual as you look at your phone. 

I could care less; I'll only care if they involve you. No one knows yet, and that's for the best. When do you come back? I miss you. 

Those three words have your heart beating faster. He missed you? Max and you haven't been together long, just shy of 7 months. Still, in that honeymoon phase, you always made excuses to your brother and his friends about why you couldn't hang out. Carlos was going suspicious, even once tried following you only to see you go to a bookstore. 

I miss you too. Have to go. Carlos is about to- 

You hit send just as Carlos snatches your phone. "Carlos! Give it back!" Swiping for the phone, Carlos steps back as he looks at your screen. He laughs as you two fight for the phone, but it dings, making you frantic. "Carlos, please. Please give me back my phone. I'm begging you." Desperation evident. "What? Texting your boyfriend?" Carlos jokes, but that smile of his slips when he reads the text. 

"Carlos, I can explain." He tosses your phone back, all traces of your brother gone, replaced with a pissed-off man. "Max answered your text. We'll talk later." He whispers in your ear, going back to his seat. The rest of the family joining the two of you now. Looking down at your phone, you see the text and know Carlos is about to lose his mind. 

Call me. Love you buttercup 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lying on your bed, you stare at Max's contact. You want to call him, but you know Carlos is waiting for the party downstairs to die so he can slip away. Max had texted you multiple times since the afternoon, ranging from asking how dinner was to asking if you were angry with him. 

"Y/n?" Shooting up, you fix your shirt as your older brother Carlos pokes his head in. "I'm still awake." Carlos pushes the door wider, fitting his body through before closing it with no sound. "Do I need to ask, or will you tell me?" He moves from the door to lay on your bed, you following him. "Carlos, please don't make me." He huffs, his larger hand holding yours. "Why? Because you'll know what I'll say? And I will say it, pequeña." You sit up, staring at your phone screen. 

It lights up, Max's smiling face staring at you. Unable to look at it, you hit decline and mute it. "He's good to me, Carlos." Your brother snorts, rolling his eyes at those words. "So what? You know his reputation. He's a loose canon that doesn't care who he hurts. You'll be a casualty in his warpath." Carlos sits up, rubbing your shoulder as he stands. "Dump him, pequeña. He'll only hurt you." Carlos doesn't wait for an answer, leaving with a sense of accomplishment, thinking you'll dump Max. 

Standing, you look at yourself in the mirror. The small silver bracelet with a little lion hides slips from your sleeve, reminding you of the day Max gave it to you. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

3 months ago 

"Max, I'm going to be late. Carlos and Papa are strict about curfew." It was stupid, but the men in your family still gave you a curfew. You did have the good girl image as the youngest Sainz to uphold. "We've got 30 minutes. Besides, I can get us back in 5," Max smirks, tugging you through the crowded festival. 

Smiling, you tug him back, wrapping your other arm around the one holding your hand. Unable to help himself, he leans down, kissing you without a care who saw. "Come on. There is one stand I want to visit." High off the kiss, you nod as you move around the people. Max stops before this tiny little stand with an older woman making jewelry. 

"Excuse me, can you make this for me?" The older woman smiles, taking a slip of paper in Max's hand. Opening it, her smile grows as she nods and gets to work. "What's she making?" Max shushes you, kissing your ear. "Be patient, buttercup." Unable to stop the blush, you turn away, hiding your face in his side. Laughing, he kisses the top of your head as fireworks explode above. 

The older woman finishes what she is working on, handing it to Max. Pocketing it, he hands over more money than needed. Before the woman notices, Max tugs you away. "Where are we going?" You yell over the loud music and fireworks. "Somewhere, quiet." The farther you walk, the music starts to fade, but the fireworks still burst into colors above. You gasp, seeing a little gazebo with a pond around it. "Come on." He urges, pulling you out of your haze. 

The two of you run to the gazebo, you jumping up the ledge so you can look Max in the eye. "How'd I get so lucky?" Max whispers, wrapping his arms around your waist. "I think I should be asking that." With a hum, you rest your head on his chest, watching the fireworks. Max says nothing as you enjoy the show and others' warmth. "Oh, this is for you," Max whispers, leaning down to grab something from his pocket. 

"Max, you shouldn't have gotten me anything." Hating when he spends money on you. "Stop. You're the light in my life right now. Let me be the one to make it burn brighter." Shutting you up with a kiss. Pulling away with giggles, he places the silver bracelet in your palm, looking away. Peering at it, your heart squeezes as you stare at a little lion head dangling off it. 

"We can't always be together when we're so close, sooo," Max groans, shy at admitting this. "This will prove that even though I can't always be next to you, I'm here." Pointing at the lion's head, looking up, he stops seeing tears in your eyes. "It's perfect. I love you." Your eyes grow wide as you both take in what you have just said. 

"Oh, Max. God, it's so earlier. I'm so-" Words get swallowed as his lips mesh with yours, kissing away your apologies. "Don't apologize. I love you too, Y/n Sainz." The two of you laugh, losing yourself in one another. Curfew be damned. 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Present Day 

"Stay away from Max. Today is a race day, we don't need you getting caught and your name being ruined." Your father hisses so others don't hear. So much for trusting Carlos. He told your father immediately, not even giving you a chance. "Yes, Papi." Your father nods and lets you go, heading to talk to your cousin and Carlos. 

Carlos looks at you smiling, but you lift your hand, flipping him off; no shame in showing off the bracelet Max gave you. Carlos's face turns sour, leaning in, whispering something to your father, who turns his face filled with rage. "Mama, going for a drink." Your mother waves you off, slipping through people, careful not to be spotted by cameras or media personnel. 

It was stupid and reckless. You knew that walking that way was asking for trouble. You just couldn't help it, wanting one glimpse of Max. Stepping back and into the shadows, cameras come rushing past saying they just saw Max. Looking up, you feel a presence behind you and a hand on your mouth. Letting out a scream, it's muffled as that warm voice soothes you. "Buttercup, it's me." Automatically your body relaxes into his.

"Max?" Chuckling, he drops his hand, spinning you around. Fingers going for the lion head rubbing it. "Papi and my family know." Max's smile falls, fingers still, and he steps back. "Oh." You hate that he's doing this. Shutting down and refusing to talk about this. "Max, hey." Grabbing his hand, you pull him back close. "Please don't shut down on me. Please, I don't care what my family says. I love you." Max sighs, looking down at you as he yanks you into a hug. 

"I love you too, but I don't want my reputation to harm you." He whispers into your hair, his racing heart calming by holding you in his arms. "Fuck that. I want you, Max. I picked you. You were my first and last choice." Max leans down, kissing the bracelet, then your lips. "I have to go. Race is about to start." You nod, giving him one last kiss as you watch him rush off. 

"Where were you?" You control the urge to roll your eyes at your brother. You're tired of hiding how you feel, and you weren't going to be ashamed of it. "I was with Max. If you have a problem with it, deal with it." You hiss before joining the rest of your family, refusing to say a word. 

"YES!" You knew it was wrong to scream loudly when Max crossed the line, a photo finish with your brother. You didn't care. Max deserved this win, but Carlos didn't. The backstabber needed to feel this sting, and you're glad he would. Ripping off the headphones, you make a run to parc ferme, only to be yanked back. 

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" Your father snarls. "LET GO OF ME!" People turn, your father letting you go immediately as you take deep breaths. "I love him! I love him, Papi! He's the only one who understands me and is a good man! But you and Carlos are so blinded by the media and the rumors that you don't see how happy I am! So fuck you and this stupid image! I'm going to kiss the love of my life." Laughing, you turn, bolting off, watching Max jump out of the car, celebrating. 

"MAX!" Hearing your voice, his helmet turns, looking at you. Without a second thought, he rushes over, scooping you up, pulling you over the rails as you hug him tight. "I love you, I love you." You repeat before you lean back, kissing his helmet. You can see his eyes scrunch in happiness. 

"I don't care what people say; I don't care about your bad reputation. You're mine, good or bad. I choose you." Max laughs, spinning you around as people scream and cheer. From the corner of your eye, you see a red storm past, not even looking at you. He'll get over it. Even if he doesn't, you still have Max. 

#f1 #formula 1 #f1 fandom #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x y/n #formula one #f1 scenario #max x reader #max verstappen imagine #max imagine #max verstappen #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen angst #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen scenario #red bull racing

[starlettechild]

⊱𝓛𝓾𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓾𝓼 𝓟𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓵𝓼⊰

* ೃ༄

CONTENT: SMUT! MDNI & 18+ CONTENT BELOW THE CUT! After the defeat of the elder brain, Tav begins to need some extra protection. There is one oathbreaker more than happy to take the position. ( noble x knight dynamics )

⚠️TWs:⚠️ : Implied feminine reader, but they/them pronouns are still used. AFAB anatomy, sexual/explicit content. Zevlor is kind of in heat. ACT 3 SPOILERS!!

NOTES: im sooooo normal about zevlor im soooososososos normal

its good to be back everyone! hopefully ill be able to post more of my writing! feels so nice to be doing this again

Throughout the entirety of Zevlor’s life, he has known battle. The taste of iron and ash in his mouth as he pushes and pushes forward. A relentless march forward towards death. It was the life of a Hellrider. But Tav - to him, they were a light in his darkness. A gentle hand that cleaned the blood of his face and armor. He thought his life was destined to be full of fighting - blood always following his every steps. But never had he imagined someone would fight for him, fight with him, and win. The defeat of the Elder Brain brought a shuddering peace to the city. The destruction in its wake was evident, some damage unrepairable. Yet each rise and fall of the sun over Baldur’s Gate, Zevlor could see the city come back to life. His people began to repair themselves and set out for more.

Yet he couldn’t. Leaving Tav, this person who was his own personal religion, the fuel of an imaginary oath. Their favor was like a divine blessing that coursed through his infernal veins, carried him through battle with ferocity. Fueled by the desire to see them again. So when the offer came up to serve as their own personal knight in the new (deserving) luxurious life they lived, he could not refuse. Tav had companions scattered across the planes, but they wanted to fix the city. An intimidating force in the court that was slowly being reformed and revived, a respected hero in every street, and a survivor of the impossible. Who wouldn’t want someone like that to help lead this city to a new era? But of course, this called for extra hands and extra bodies to help assist their cause, and who was better than the old Hellrider who lived and breathed to protect those he loved?

The miracles of them are racing through his head as he stands in-front of the large oak door to their room. The armor he wears- commissioned and crafted by Dammon just for him by Tav - shifts with each of his nervous movements. It’s been quite some time, and he still hasn’t adjusted to being in such a persons presence. A sharp inhale through his nose, and he knocks against the door. Wincing at the loudness of the sound his gauntlet makes against it, an unheard apology falling from his lips. He stands there and awaits permission to answer, his anxiety increasing as each second ticks by and there is no response.

“Tav? I hope you don’t mind, but I’m coming in.” The door opens slowly, and his eyes rake over the place for signs of distress. His heart beats rapidly in his chest.. but suddenly, it slows, when the scent of lavender and cashmere hit his senses, the door to their washroom slightly creaked open. A sigh of relief escapes him, quickly replaced by panic when he realizes he has no place in this room as they wash. He’s about to make a quick escape, before he hears their voice. It dances along his spine. He can wear the most finely crafted armor, but that voice will still put him to his knees.

“Zevlor?”

Their voice calls to him, bouncing off the walls of the washroom. “I am.. so sorry, Tav. I thought something had - had happened. I’ll leave right away, and I’ll even understand if you no longer want me to serve-” He’s about to keep rambling on to them, but their laughter cuts him off, and Gods does it make him want to go to war just to hear it again and again and again.

“Actually, could you help me with something in here?” He feels like he can’t breathe. Maybe this armor is suffocating him..? He’s getting too old to walk around in such things. Or is the thought of being so close to Tav in a washroom that’s suffocating him? But his feet are betraying him, moving forward before the “Of course.” is muttered. His hand shakes as he slowly opens the door, shutting his eyes out of decency. Though it takes every ounce of his will power to do so.

Tav sits in the bath, their bare back glistens with water, steam swirling around their form. Zevlor, ever the romantic, thinks they look like a Siren poking their upper body from the waves. And he is the enchanted sailor. They turn their head to the side to glance at them, and Zevlor wants to sculpt their side profile like they are his muse. Perhaps they are. Perhaps they will be.

“I can’t but this balm on my back myself, could you lend a hand, Commander?” Zevlors heart skips a beat behind his armor at the old title. He worries if he shakes anymore out of desire, his armor will rattle and disturb the Master of this house he now serves like a sworn in knight. He can only give a nod to them, removing the heavy gauntlets. He gives a frown to his hands, his claws. He feels like a cursed creature reaching out for the Divine. But can one even as vigilant as himself resist, when they beckon to him so sweetly? Call to him when he has dreamt of it night after night?

He covers his fingers in the flick balm, rubbing it on their back. It’s going to be the death of him. Touching them like this. He feels he may pass away, when they arch their back into his touch. Letting out a pleased sigh. He wishes he was some sort of wizard, so he could some how save the noise. Listen to it again, and again, and again. His racing thoughts are cut through when he hears them speak to him.

“Zevlor, can I be very honest with you?” He can see their expression. Weariness. Expecting something.. something sad. “Always.” He manages through gritted teeth, biting back the words “let me go first. I want you in a way I haven’t wanted anyone before.”

“There was another reason I wanted you to work with me. I’ve always.. admired you. In a way more than appropriate between noble and knight. Adventurer and Commander.” They glance down into the water, fingers wafting through the milky bath water.

Zevlor has died. He thinks he has. This must be The Heavens. Something good he doesn’t deserve. But they said they were honest, and the pain in his chest from how fast his infernal heart beats is grounding. There’s no pain in heaven. He must be alive. This must be real. There is no way he can communicate this to them in words, so gently he takes his hand, settling behind them, tilting their face up to his. Staring into their eyes, asking if this is okay. Saying that if he is to kiss them here and now, he may never be able to stop. And their own eyes respond in kind, saying to him, “never stop.”

Then he kisses them, and Gods, does it drive him wild. As if their lips were coated in a strong aphrodisiac. Sweet and soft. His eyes flutter shut, hands finding their bare waist. They kiss him back, and he feels special, knowing that they want this just as much as he does. But still, he pulls away, asking them, “Are you sure?”

“I have never been more sure of anything.”

And then he is kissing them again. His own chest vibrates with something similar to a primal growl, weaving his hands and their still wet hair and pulling the impossibly closer, memorizing the shape and taste of their lips. Perhaps it is the forbidden topic of a certain tiefling cycle, but Zevlor can feel his composure slipping, his neediness below his waistband growing impossibly harder. It may be so just by kissing them after such a long time serving them as their knight, lusting for them during long nights, is enough to send him into an early rut. They can feel it too - breaking the kiss, their leg gently positioned in between his legs and pressing against him, his head falls back against. The old paladin is already puddy in their hands, heavy breaths and low moans spilling from his lips with every movement they make. Their knee brushing over his member over and over through his pants is enough for him to lean in, nuzzling the crevice of their neck and try to manage words between heavy inhales and choked moans.

“I won’t last. Please.” He confesses. He’s finished to the thought alone with his own hand. The real thing is almost too much for him. An overwhelming pleasure being served to him in the steamy washroom of their mansion. He crumbles in the hands of the one is sword and new oath belongs to. And this, he thinks, is what it must feel like to have a true Gods favor.

Yet Tav seems to be a merciless God this evening, replacing their leg with their hand. He jerks upright, his tail swishing back and forth. The rut brewing in him snaps like a string, and with arms strong enough, he lifts them onto his lap instead. A light aired gasp leaves their lips, and he wants to drink the sound. His hips grind up into their own member, and their back arches, letting out music of their own.

It makes Zevlor feral.

“I need you. Now. Please.” He swallows heavily, closing his eyes as if praying. His jaw tightening with the pounding feeling of lust, banging on the walls of his mind and lighting his body on fire. All for them. It is all for them. Their naked body is a sight to behold when be opens his eyes, truly taking in the art before him. Slick skin, glossy and fragrant with the smell of a floral bath mixture. Divine. Truly, divine. His mouth moves up to their neck, kisses trailing down, drinking their skin. His teeth graze along their sensitive flesh, aching to bite and mark upon his lord/lady/sovereign. His cock twitching every-time he feels them tremble against him, their slick thighs right where he wants them.

May his sovereign never lift a finger - his own hand moving to undo the waistband of his pants, sliding them off and away. Their eyes take him in, sitting on the edge of the pool-like baths marble. His eyes take them in back, questioning if they are ready for him. It’s almost pitiful, they think. His erection looks almost painful, throbbing and stiff against his ridged chest. But Tav has practiced with their fingers to thoughts of riding their knight, so they take a steady inhale, and sink down onto his cock.

Zevlor bows his head, hands shooting to their waist, letting out a shaky sound of bliss. They feel his pants against their collarbone, before they feel something a little more intense. Teeth sinking onto their skin, biting. Claiming. His desperation drives them wild, and he can tell, taking a hiss of air in when they clench around him.

The commander, in his most feral state, still values them having the ropes and steering the wheel. He stays still, even though he wants to thrust up into them like an animal - he resists the urge. Letting them set the pace. After all, he is their knight.

Slowly, with moans of their own, does their body work up and down his shaft, hips rising and falling. And fuck is Zevlor done for. Their heaven is nothing he could imagine. The intensity they make him feel could almost send him to tears. His hands tighten on their waist. A reminder of what he once was. That the man they now ride was a Commander.

Tav flutters against him, letting out the sweetest sounds. Like a siren, he is mesmerized. So he jerks his hips up to match their movements, and their hands claw down his back, his name leaving their lips. He loves it. So he does it again, and again, and again, tell the pleasure he brings them is enough for them both to already by near their climax.

“Hells. I’m close.. Gods.” He rasps out, feeling the heat inside him become too much. “Finish with me, Zevlor.” Such a demand drives him to the edge, his movements becoming more erratic. Hitting that spot inside them that’s enough to make them scream. His orgasm washes over him like an electric shock, praising their name as he finishes like a chant. He feels theirs cover his shaft too, and he makes a note for later to make them come undone on his tongue to make up for the wasted nectar.

Their thighs tremble against his, not departing from the intimacy, but instead resting their chest against his still panting chest. Listening to the beat of his heart and the way he tries to catch his breath. Hearing the slightest glimmer of an oath in his body, a surge of power.

To serve and be with them until the world ends, and he is too broken and bloody to stand.

#Spotify #bg3 writing #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 smut #bg3 zevlor #zevlor #zevlor x tav #zevlor smut #zevlor x reader #zevlor x you #bg3 zevlor smut

[auromelt]

the idea of szam being/becoming "friends" with benefits kinda hurts 🥲 but it's Ryo so I'm all for it lmao. I can just see him in this constant emotional state of wondering if Amagai actually cares abt him at all or if he's just being used so it's just more suffering for him 🥳 curious on your thoughts

🔞 minors shoo

discussing sex, toxic relationships, unfailing devotion, and the act of giving yourself away to someone who has everything.

and it’s long as fuck btw so if you wanna read it in one sitting make sure you have some time. it took me like 2 days of thinking, being gay in a doomed relationship, and more thinking to come up with all this.

first i have to say that i adore the idea of suzaki settling for what he can have. from his youth, he has never asked for anything nor has he had anything given to him without him having to fight for it and win it with his own fists and blood. he’s lived 18 years and has never wanted anything because he knows it’s not his place in society and he knows the nature of his upbringing and his family’s place in the socioeconomic hierarchy has taken all his chances to be someone important enough to make any sort of demands. suzaki is content with what he’s allowed to have, and yet…

yet, at the tender age of eight, he falls in love with amagai kohei, and the reality of just how many things in his life are completely out of reach settles in his bones. even years apart can’t change how badly he yearns for amagai, something like a deity to once humble mortal who was grazed by the divinity and suddenly wanted something bigger than the world.

and it’s fine, it’s really fine. amagai reenters his life, he’s jaded and bitter now and even so he’s still the most beautiful person suzaki knows and even so hes still the one suzuki wants. and it’s fine that he cant have him, he never expected to. he loves amagai, amagai won’t see him anymore, he and amagai have no reality where they can be together. he never expected to have amagai, he can live with never being able to touch his face and kiss him.

so when amagai pushes him down onto a sofa in an abandoned part of senomon one day, he shatters this barrier, all these walls suzaki has put up to hide his forbidden desires. amagai looks at him with lust, with eyes unbecoming of the son of the amagai group, and it’s not love but suzaki will take it. who is he to deny amagai? who is he to challenge the want of a god? and how can suzaki even think to refuse it even if it’ll cost him his heart? he loves amagai, amagai wants him for at least this moment, he can live with this compromise even if it shatters him.

at least, that’s how he felt at first.

maybe if suzaki grew up in a better environment, maybe if he could buy lunch without having to count the pennies in his wallet, maybe if he wasn’t raised to serve and give his mind and energy and strength and body and love to others and leave naught for himself. maybe then, suzaki would know himself better and maybe then, he would know that the bare minimum he’s conditioned himself to accept has never once been enough for him. amagai’s given him a taste of heaven, and it’s not enough. it used to be fine that he would always be on the giving end of everything, that his greatest desires were unreachable, that he was made to be at the inner bottom of the pyramid, supporting the whole structure and yet never getting recognition or ogling praise for it. it used to be fine, it used to be enough.

and it’s not now.

it’s not, because he flew too close to the sun. suzaki can’t kiss him but he can fuck him. amagai likes him enough as a “friend”, as someone amagai isn’t bothered by keeping around because suzaki does his job well and supports amagai with the fierce loyalty of a dog that has been hurt by everyone but amagai. an heir, a son, someone important, a de jure leader, amagai doesn’t have the time or ability to have a real relationship at all. and suzaki is good at his job, he fights on amagai’s behalf, he’s given amagai everything, so amagai rationalises that his body wouldn’t be too much to ask for.

suzaki’s heart takes up half his body, and amagai takes up most of his heart.

i don’t see suzaki as someone with a strong sex drive. he has other problems. where’s his next meal going to come from if amagai doesn’t pay his dad? there’s a leak in his roof that has been patched up with duct tape. lately, his next door neighbours have been arguing through the night about a crack that has started to appear on the walls in between their apartment and his own. he has so many problems that have gotten in the way of him exploring and getting to know himself. what he does know is that he’s amagai’s, that even if metaphorically, there’s a stamp on the back of his neck with amagai kohei’s name on it. he knows love through his feelings for amagai, he knows devotion and service. he doesn’t know himself, but he does know who he is as an extension of amagai. amagai asks for pleasure, suzaki will give it to him.

anyways tl;dr suzaki is sooooo suffering. our depressed wet puppy washed away with the river current. but let’s discuss a bit on amagai.

first, him not being able to date/seek pleasure with people is total bullshit. partial bullshit because nobody but suzaki would actually date him if he wasn’t financially stacked. anyways, i see amagai as having some attachment issues, fear of dating or even getting to know new people for the very reason that he believes they’ll just be there for what he has, take everything from him, and leave him when they decide he’s no longer worth it all. and then there’s suzaki, his suzaki ryo, and amagai knows he won’t leave. maybe it’s because suzaki can’t leave without losing everything, maybe it’s because amagai is somewhat aware that suzaki loves him. it’s for this reason that amagai knows and trusts that he can bare his throat and show himself to suzaki. even in the vulnerable position he’d be in during sex (who else believes in mostly bottom amagai 🙋) suzaki would handle it with the grace he’s handled all of amagai’s other bullshit with, he won’t laugh at amagai, and amagai would still be treated like a god even with a dick up his ass. it’s an arrangement that works, suzaki who reveres him and only wishes to serve him.

suzaki is amagai’s safest option, and maybe there’s a part of amagai who has been creating excuses. maybe suzaki really is the one he wants, the only one he wants. the love and devotion suzaki holds for him, this is something most people will never get to experience, it’s something amagai himself knows he’ll never experience again. suzaki will never want anyone else, not if amagai can do something about it, because he can’t stand the thought of suzaki loving anyone on the same level he loves him, much less more. suzaki is amagai’s, he’ll give and take everything from suzaki if it keeps him on the leash.

in true amagai fashion, he doesn’t know how to process how much he genuinely cares about suzaki, much less show it to suzaki. and suzaki was built to know and understand and serve him, but he cant read something in amagai that amagai himself won’t acknowledge. so it exists like that, suzaki pines after someone who loves him and amagai lies and covers for himself as he finds a way to have suzaki without committing himself to something that unstable. unstable because of all the factors that surround them, their lifestyle differences, the expectations placed on amagai by the family he was born into, suzaki’s lack of everything material, all things that would crush a real relationship before it can properly start.

it’s the only way amagai can have him.

anyways… tl;dr if they need a third i’m available.

#🦙 anons #high & low #high&low #suzaki ryo #high & low the worst x #high&low the worst x #amagai kohei #amazaki #suzaama

[tiredhawks]

Lmao, call me petty but I want Hawks to keep some of his win records, it's sad enough Hori decided he was past his prime at 23, and YET this man is going toe to toe with AFO while disabled (which is his QUIRK) with nothing but two katanas and swung hard enough to BREAK the steel. And now he's going to fight AFO in his prime. All Might could never. I hope AFO stays there the whole time, getting rewinded until he turns into a toddler and Hawks just punts him into the sun. Let Deku's legacy be saving Shigaraki's heart, let Hawks' new legacy be decapitating AFO and bullying toddler demon lords. Anyways this got away from me, but we don't actually know which half of the year Hawks debuted right? For all we know, it could've been his birthday, April as is the new school year and when Mt. Lady did, so technically, it's up in the air how quickly after he turned 18 that he hit the top ten, and so it is unknown how quickly Deku would have to be to break that record. Hawks could have a week earlier on him for all we know.

Anon you are going to make me write a literal essay here. I 100% agree. I think people severely overlook how crazy Hawks' accomplishments were too. People make similar comments about 1a's big three doing what Hawks did. And honestly they won't. Endeavor has insanely powerful fire quirk, the will, and is work obsessed. He did not do what Hawks did. He was the second youngest, I think? But there is still a few years difference there. So how would Bakugo or Shoto be in a different situation? Realistically, they wouldn't. They would ascend the ranks quickly, but not in the way Hawks did.

Izuku is a special case because he is All Might's successor and the world is desperately missing All Might. But at this moment, people don't actually know that. And winning the war is a huge accomplishment, but there is a limit to how much that can boost him overall. It's a point scale, not an arbitrary number handed out. And here's the thing- they are first year students. No matter what happens, they cant be pro heroes as students. That's several years of lag for public attention to die out and other things to happen. We can't assume what does or doesn't happen in those years. We also shouldn't forget that Izuku is kinda unpopular right now. We just had an arc where people gathered outside UA to not let him back in. The civilians in MHA don't see the world we see, the fights we do, or what these kids are dealing with. There's too much going on here to say yes or no. Could Izuku do it? Possibly, but I don't think it's as likely as people act. Does he deserve it? Obviously, he's literally going to save Japan. But the hero ranking is a process and I still think it's important the narration says "how I become the greatest hero" and not the number 1. This isn't a is Izuku better than Hawks comparison, it's a discussion of how hero ranking works.

(Not to mention the commission is fucked up right now and it seems the way everything is headed is that there won't be ranks anymore at all.)

Hawks had very unique circumstances considering he was literally groomed since 7 years old to fill this role. He had the personality, the looks, the knowledge, and a quirk that makes him extremely extremely extremely active. He is a workaholic to an unhealthy amount. THAT is how he climbed the ranks impossibly fast. There was not a single second he wasnt scoring popularity points or activity points, or both at the same time. And that WASNT. GOOD.

We don't WANT that. Hawks broke records because he was in a situation that was the product of everything fucked with hero society.

That's the point of his character. Hawks worked and worked and was handsome with the perfect quirk and broke records and made girls swoon- and Keigo didn't exist. Keigo was not a person. Hawks the hero was the only thing there. The entire point of his character is to show the problem with hero society and to have people go "my fav will break his record lol" IT DOES INDEED IRK ME A LITTLE BIT. And you addressed this by mentioning Hawks being last his prime at 23. That is so incredibly depressing and people just gloss over what it actually means. Izuku is supposed to be healthy, have a life, have friends, have off time. He's not supposed to be in this war at all or have this pressure. And before anyone goes "girl, it was a joke TikTok" listen, this isn't about the TikTok anymore. This is an attitude and thought process I have repeatedly seen in this fandom. Oh my god I'm just going to make another post about Hawks' work this is so long

[flyingpotstickers]

wc: 571 sad, sad words. i’m so sorry guys.

[ UNSENT ]:     a letter written for the recipient, but which the writer ultimately never sends for reasons that the writer conceals, or may reveal within the letter itself. ( @soulprompts wrote this meme and I saw it and I HAD TO SUPERCORP IT! )

Read the Tags. This has Major Character Death!!!

My Very Dear Lena,

This letter shall not be given to you if I can manage it. But just in case I can’t stop this from happening, I wanted to give you a letter that would show you how inexplicably sorry I am. I didn’t --- don’t want to leave you ever, in any way--- much less in the painful termination of my own life.

That being said, the world is unpredictable and I am constantly in danger, you know this now. You know this better than anyone else, except maybe Alex. I’m worried that you know it all too well. That’s neither here nor there in this letter. Right now, I just need you to know you’re a good person.

I love you, Lena Luthor-Danvers, in ways that I thought unimaginable until I met you. I know the odds were against us, and I know that you were so scared for so long but... We did it, didn’t we? We --- at the time I’m writing this letter, we have two beautiful children. Kenzie and Lukas are my whole world, just like you are. I can’t imagine raising them with anyone else. Saving you, no.... Knowing and loving you has been the best decision I’ve ever made.

So, not to be sappy or something that you pretend to hate, I have to quote a song. You know I do. Well, okay, paraphrasing works too..... If I must die sweetheart, know that your life was my life’s best part.

I love you Lena. You have always been the sun for me.

Love,

your wife.

P.S. It’s still a blessing to be considered yours, even if I’ve been such from the beginning.

As Lena finished reading the letter, she swiped at her eyes. She knew what it stood for. Kara wrote this letter two years ago, but it was now delivered to her by none other than an older Alex Olsen-Danvers. Alex’s face was grief stricken and she had tears rolling down her face.

“Do Kenzie and Lukas know?” Their children were now twelve and fifteen, respectively. Lena had no illusions of how hard this would hit. Kara had been the battleship to fight all the wars --- and win. And now she was returning home to be placed as a flag on the mantle. Supergirl would live on in Kenzie, but there would be no one to replace the warmth in Lena’s life, in her bed. In her heart.

Lena cleared her throat. “No.” Alex said softly. “We thought you’d want to be there for that.” It’s obvious that Alex was not holding up much better than Lena was. Lena stiffened, nodding. “Thank you, she would want that too.” she said. Yes. That’s what Kara would have wanted.

Her family together, safe.

Yes. That’s what Kara had died for.

And as Lena walked to the car that would take her to break her child’s heart in an irreversible way, Lena rubbed Alex’s back. “You did the best you could.” she didn’t need to know the whole story to comfort her sister-in-law. The Danvers sisters were the unbreakable bond. It wouldn’t even shake now, after death.

“I’m so sorry, Lena.” Alex whispered. “C’mon, we’re getting you to the safe house. The kids are already there.” Alex said in a hushed tone. “Alright.” Lena felt like she was in some sort of alternate reality. There was no place safe now. Kara was gone.

#angst #angst without a happy ending #supercorp drabble #supercorp #agentcorp friendship #alex danvers #lena luthor #kara danvers #supergirl #supergirl fic #major character death #this takes place in no timeline known to canon #but it's my canon so....

[dimonds456]

I may have not always been honest Though now I speak in earnest To live, to die, is a natural cycle Though dying young has always hurt us.

My body stops and stutters The cogs rusty and battered There has been no replacement For my machines predicament.

I shake and stumble and cough And fall to a floor not so soft This blood on my hands is my own From this internal battle I've been thrown

I wave my flag high and stand my ground Though the fights namesake is underground For I fight below the dirt under the Graves Of those who fought this war and never gave.

Blood, sweat, and tears have all been shed The blood on me knee as I kissed pavement Sweat as I tried to lift a plate over my head All I've yet to shed are teads, but my soul cries instead.

I wave my flag high though my arm grows tired And the thing keeping it up is a very small fire This flame of fame and courage and valor Determination keeps me tough and towered.

I see you, Death, with hand outstreched But I think it'd be pretty far fetched To think I would take it so easily If so I'd have gone with you early.

As the Valkyries fly and before the sun dies I will hold my ground. I see you, my Graves, with distance falling. No surrender can be found.

This hardened potion in my veins Perseverance through the pains I will keep fighting until the end No matter how much my own body wants me dead.

I'm not usually one to focus on the negative side of things, but Graves is kicking my ass. I'm becoming more and more convinced it's gonna win.

If you don't know, Graves Disease is a chronic illness I've had for years. It means my metabolism doesn't exist, my heart rate is always too high, I'm constantly off balance, my hands shake, and I cant exercise very long or I'll hyperventilate or faint.

I don't have a doctor's appointment for another month.

If I die, I want to let you all know that I love everyone of you. I love Tumblr, I love my friends, and I love the huge amount of support I've gotten. I will never take that for granted.

I've always tried to be nice, kind, supportive, and loving. If I ever failed this, I am so sorry. That was never my intention.

Thank you to @/joyflameball for pulling me from the dark and being my partner in crime for these past few months. I wish I could do more for you.

Thank you to @/artsycooky13 for giving me so much inspiration and being such a good friend. I'll never forget you.

Thank you to @/hugthesquids for sticking it out and being the voice of reason when the world came crashing down, who was able to show me the way several times.

Thank you to @/doodlegirl for being one of my best mutuals. Your support has had an impact on me I'll never forget.

Thank you to @/mudwingprince for also being a great mutual. Your support has meant so much. You were the first person to ever draw Follychromatic fanart, and I cherish it every day.

Thank you @/mouseinabucket for your unconditional support and love when I needed it the most.

Thank you @/axolotluv for being a wonderful mutual and friend for a short time. I wish we'd gotten to know each other better.

Thank you to my mom, who may not have completely understood me, but tried her hardest to support me anyway.

Thank you to my brother, who I love more than life itself. I'm sorry if I wasn't there enough, or if I didn't give you the support you needed. If I live, you better believe I'm going to fix that.

Thank you to everyone ever that has supported me and my wild dreams. Each positive word has only boosted me up, pulling me from the dark and adding to my reasons to push on.

I'm not done fighting- not yet. But I fear that fight may be nearing it's climax. When that happens, I'll know I have a ton many amazing people behind me. You guys give me courage.

Either I live with Graves, or I live in a grave. Well see what happens.

Come on out, Graves, and FIGHT.

#death #tw death mention #death mention #tw death #chronic illness #(the day i wrote this) chronic illness attacking me hard today to the point i think i almost maybe suffocated #actually chronically ill #chronically ill #graves disease #hyperthyroidism #dimond speaks #dimonds456 #poem #poetry #determination #pain #mental pain #tw possible death #possible death #today when i posted: i woke up feeling out of breath. nothing unusual. but it usually regresses after an hour. #its been three and i still feel awful #i have to go to work soon #im going to have to rip open boxes and lift things up

[readssmut]

What is wrong with being a Farmer.

Another battle. Another fallen soldier for the good guys. Oh sure they gave as good as they got, heck, they gave way more than they got, but they still did receive their fair share of fallen warriors.

Some days, some fights were like triumphs, where they came, they saw, sometimes even planed, and they conquered. Those were some of the best times, those moments seem to make everything worth it, all the blood, the pain, the sacrifice.

Other times, they barely made it, the beatings they would receive were severe and it felt like death was a sweet release compared to the pain, but they had to push forward. Oh sure, Aura helped. Took care of their wound, the pain, the broken bones, but nothing helped with those that fell.

In truth, this day was almost crushing for the young heroes, if not for the bravery of the yellow knight, there would have been much more blood on their side, but due to his choice, only one fell.

A sole Huntsmen-in-training lay bloodied on the floor in a small corridor which led to the hanger area, a few grimm, who have yet to disintegrate yet remain as his only company.

Jaune: I..di-did it. I finally helped t-th-them. Was not j-st use-useless.

He was no longer feeling any pain, only a few moments before he was embraced by death remained. Only his mind was still working, and even then, it was already losing its focus.

Jaune: Is this how you felt Pyr? When you were dying? Were your thoughts also about was it worth it or not? I like to think it was, for both of us. Sure livings great and I miss you every day, but dying for other, so that they could live, heck, not the worst thing. Besides, well get to see each other again.

Jaune: Hey maybe they will build a statue for me, when they will win that is, which I know they will, Ruby will do great things, you have never seen someone who has more determination than her, she was our silver guiding light. If not for her and her optimism, I don’t thing we would have ever gone half the distance we did and nothing can stop Yang from protecting her family, which at this point is not just team RWBY but also team JNPR or well, what`s left of it. Blakes also is trying to prove that Faunus can and will make the world a better place, and I like to thing she will succeed. And Weiss, well, you know my thoughts on Snow Angel, heh, she would be soo mad for me calling her that, even in my last moments. And Nora and Ren, they finally got together-together, it only took the fall of Beacon and the battle at Haven for them to realise what every one else knew since day one, some people can be quite dense, huh Pyr. Maybe they will name their kids after us? Pyrrha Ren Valkyrie and Jaune Ren Valkyrie, could be worse. Could be Jaune Belladonna Xiao-Long

Jaune: There is also Oscar, you don’t know him, well you kind of do, it`s weird, turns out he has Ozpin in his brain, don`t ask, it will just confuse you, I don’t get it myself, something god related. He`s a nice kid, was my partner in a sense, it was weird training someone else, given my situation, but boy did that give me perspective on my situation and made me realise how much more grateful I am toward all the help you gave me.

Jaune: There were others, like Ruby’s and Yang’s uncle Qrow, I think you knew him? Since he knew about the Maidens and was Ozpins right hand man, or one of this right hand men, since Ironwood was also in his inner circle. Weiss older sister Winter, who Nora called Weiss-Prime, she didn’t like that nick name, neither of them did actually, which is why I think Nora used it.

Jaune: There were others such as the Ace-Ops, Ironwoods person best, though they did lose to team RWBY, so maybe they were not as good as they thought they were, not the say that team RWBY ain`t great. Also, the Happy Huntresses and also Sun and Neptune, you remember them right? The Monkey Faunus with the staff and the guy who could call Weiss snow angel and not get vitriol spat at them, lucky bastard.

He felt his time was ending as he was reminiscing about his friend and family, imagining all the conversion he can have with those that fell before him and how great it will be to see them. Yes Jaune Arc was dying with no regrets, why wouldn’t` he. He got to protect his friends, what else was there for him? To be a Hero? To get a happily ever after? No, not for him, not for the cheater, not for the failure of Beacon. He might not have lived like a Arc should have, but maybe, he at least dies as one.

His greatest Hope was to give other a chance at those things, and he liked to think, as the light was fading from him, that he succeeded.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In a Room with a giant screen several figures seated as the one who brought them finally broke the silence.

Operator: And that’s another world, hoped you enjoyed it

Ruby: Enjoyed it?? Jaune died, we left him there, while we escaped!  What were we supposed to enjoy about that?

Operator: Take it as a learning experience, you don’t always win, and even when you do, it does not mean there are those who won’t fall. Death is something you will have to accept.

Nora: That does not mean we ENJOYED watching Fearless leader dying.

She yells while reaching for her baby, but a green robed hand stops her.

Ren: Nora, trust me, I am not happy about this, but getting violent her won’t help anyone, especially since we can`t do anything here.

Pyrrha: I died?

Yang: Why didn’t we stay to help!?

Weiss: Probably our Auras were low and we were exhausted from whatever we were doing and agreed that escape was the only option.

Ruby: Weiss you don’t have to be so cold about this.

Weiss: I… I apologies its just. I. I think its best in this situation, were we can`t do anything but watch, is to try to detach our selves and just use it as a learning experience, so we could prevent this in the future.

Nora: Its still a cold way to do it.

Weiss: I never said it wasn’t. But I believe it is the best option.

Nora: wanted to protest, but was stopped by her sister from another mister.

Pyrrha: She`s right Nora, we just have to be more careful in our future, for more than one reason apparently.

The last part was said with a hint a fear that did not go unnoticed by the other in the room as it was clear that the Young Champion of Argus has also fallen in this particular viewing.  

Ruby: I still can`t believe we left him.

A hand griped her shoulder, as she turned she saw yellow.

Yang: Don’t worry Rubes, well get much better in our time and no one will be left.

It was fake confidence, they all saw it, but they appreciated it nonetheless.

Both team RWBY and (J)NPR were so preoccupied with each other and the death of their friend, that they weren’t really thinking of the other things they heard such as Blake and Yang being a thing or Nora and Ren finally getting together.

But what they didn’t miss was the sense of dread coming from one side of the room. The side where members of the Arc family were sitting. John Arc, the former Hunter turned farmer, his Wife Charlotte Arc, the one who actually ran the family’s finances, the Eldest Arc Sibling, Saphron Cotta-Arc and Grandfather of the Arc Family – Tyberius Arc.

John: Are you happy Tyberius?

Tyberius: What is that supposed to mean?

John: You wanted my Son to follow in your footsteps, to be a Huntsmen, to try and be a Hero since I decided that a Huntsman career was not for me, that a quiet, peaceful live in Ansel was a better option for me.

Tyberius: I NEVER, wanted any of my Family dead, and for my own son to imply something so hor-

Charlotee: Then why did you keep pushing him toward that life?!

Tyberius: What is that supposed to mean?

Charlotee: My husband rarely talked about his Huntsman career or about the Arc fighters in the past. Hell we outright tried sheltering our kinds from anything Grimm related, I`m not event sure where he learned about aura!!

Saphron: I remember when I first came to Argus and everyone knew about Aura and Huntresses and it was so weird compared to home. I always wondered why, now I know, it was intentional.

Saphrons gaze lingered on her parents, did she blame them? After all, if Jaune knew more about Aura or the life he dreamed about, maybe it would have turned out differently for him. But at the same time, as a mother herself, she new she would do anything to protect her kid, even if it meant lying to them. Anything to keep Adrian safe.

Tyberius: Arcs are meant to be Heroes, we save people, it’s a noble cause, one which you abandoned son. Am I happy I watched my Grandson die? Of course not, and you are ridicules to even imply that. Am I happy to see him fight for what he believes in? For protecting other? Yes, yes I am.

Operator: I would like to remind you all, this is not your Jaune.

It didn’t help much. After a quick pause he added.

Operator: He is still alive and save.

While that did help, what didn’t was they watched their friend and family member just die and no one helped him. However, one viewer was not going to let this go.

John: Arcs are meant to be Heroes? Tell me Tyberius. What is a Hero?

Tyberius: I taught you better than that son, you damn well know what that is! A Fighter, a Knight, a defender of the week and slayer of the enemies of man. That is what a Hero is.

John: So a killer.

Tyberius: Don’t put word in my mouth, I never said that.

John: No, but your action did. How many people did you kill in your career?

Tyberius: THAT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THIS! And all of them deserved it, they were killers, slavers, bandits and worse. They earned their fate.

John: And what about the Faunus you killed? Last time I checked, you were on Atlas side during the revolution.

Tyberius: I fought on the side I believed was right, I was wrong, I know that, but one mistake should not ruin the Arc image and last time I checked son, you were also on the side fighting the Faunus.

John: Yes, I was, and to this day I regret that. If I could I would go back and switch sides immediately, but I cannot, no one can change the past… But I could change my future, which is why I quit being a huntsman!  And went to a place where I could get some peace and raise a family. I family I hoped would escape the Arc Destiny as you would call it, the warriors call. W-were my-

A hand reaches him, he looks to the side and sees his darling wife holding him, giving him strength.

John: Were our family could be free to live a good live, with no bloodshed or fear of death or conflict. But no, you had to come right? Had to see your grandchildren. I should have stopped you, but no I thought, he is their family, their blood, he has a right to see them.

John: And what do you do? You immediately talk about our family’s history, a more romanticized version of course, no innocent faunus getting killed for wanting freedom and a place to call their own! No stories brother or sisters dying to grimm or going on a mission never to be heard of again!

John: Luckily our daughters had zero interest in this, but Jaune did, so I did what I had to do, I told him he has no chance, that it is not a life for him. I saw the pain in his eyes, and you know what?! The knowledge that he would be safe was more important to me at that time! And still is!

Tyberius: But that’s not what he was suppo-

Charlotee: And who are you to decree what he was or wasn’t supposed to be?

Charlotee: We just wante him to be happy AND safe!

Tyberius: By being what? A Farmer?

John: And what`s wrong with being a farmer? What is so wrong in a world full of monsters to want a quite life, to enjoy nature?! Look around Tyberius, look at these children, all that they know is violence and pain. Do you think any of them know anything else? I bet all of them could tell me the weaknesses of any grimm, going from a Beowolf to a Oum damn Leviathan! But none of them would have any knowledge of what the best soil to plant corn or potatoes in, what is the best way to prepare for the harvest! When to Harvest them! Anything other than how to kill and fight and they are stumped!

John: You know what a farmer does Tyberius?! They bring life, they provide for others, they work just as hard as any Huntsman and their efforts can affect just as many people. They provide sustenance for many people. Heck the Arc farmlands provide for all of Ansel, and we even sell some to other nearby locations AND we are planning on expanding them to provide for a few other villages as well. But of course, farm work is beneath an Arc, isn’t that right Tyberius? Holding a pitchfork or a shovel is much less impressive than a sword in a world where everybody and their grandmother carry’s a GUN! And I should know given that Moms weapon was a flame dust based musket!

John: No, no, the only place for an Arc is battle, no peace, just war. Well, I hope your happy seeing my son die for your dream Tyberius, because when I get out of this room. I am getting my son out of Beacon, enough Arcs have died for pointless or worse, wrong causes.

Operator: Perhaps a short break is needed before we watch the next iteration of Mister Arc.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

So I Just did a Thing. First time writing, pretty obvious, isn’t it? Its cool, gotta start somewhere, right? Just for the record, this is obviously a AU interpretation of the characters as remember John Arc, knows nothing about the members of Team RWBY or JNPR, so he has no idea that for example Weiss is actually a talented singer and a good (Potentially) businesswomen. Besides he just saw a version of his Son die, so I think it can be forgivable for him to not be in the best place mentally. Additionally, it was always kind of weird, how Jaune talked about his family like he was always told these legends but when it came to him being trained he got a big fat no. So I thought, hey, maybe the stories came from one place and the No, you can’t be a Huntsman, came from another. In this situation his Grandfather and his Father respectively.

#rwby #Jaune Arc #team rwby #team jnpr #pyrrha nikos #nora valkyrie #lie ren #reaction fic

[cognitosclowns]

I wonder if Gigi’s comment about how Cognito has ‘no paid maternity leave’ was just a one off line, or if it’s gonna be foreshadowing to her having a secret kid

#LIKE DOES SHE JUST KNOW THAT BC OF HER FRIENDS AT WORK OR DOES SHE KNOW THERES NO PAID MATERNITY LEAVE FROM PERSONAL EXPERIENCE???? #I REALLY HOPE ITS HER HAVIN A KIDDO <3333 #I WANNA SEE A MINI GIGI RUNNING AROUND #inside job #gigi thompson #MSDNBSD CAN YOU TELL IM HAVIN ANOTHER REWATCH WHILE I WORK ON ASKS? #me : i feel dreadful #inside job : *exists* #me : the world has never been better. I could personally fight the sun and win. My energy is plentiful #The Serotonin Provided By This Show Is Unending <3333 what joy #ANYWAYS YEA LMK WHAT Y'ALL THINK OF THIS <33333 #theories #kinda? #i think thats the tag i had for speculation #IDK MOST OF MY HCS FOR GIGI RN ARE FANON BC WE GET NO FFFFUCKING INFO ON HER #MSNDMSN SHES ALMOST TOO PUT TOGETHER. the most we've gotten is Media Management and She Wants To Be Appreciated <///333 GIVE US BACKSTORY. #GRRKRKRKGRKGRGR #*slamming ring down on table* i have enough hands to marry all you motherfuckers starting with gigi luigi

[harry-writings]

The Happy Years

- The one where Y/n is unhappy in her engagement and finds an escape with her former lover

Part 1

Masterlist

(A/N) IM SO EARLY IM SORRY I KNOW I SAID 9PM BUT IM DONE SO MUCH SOONER THAN EXPECTED OKAY IM SORRY LOVE YALL <3333

-

Three years later.

The heaviest of thunderstorms hit the city of London by early morning, the loss of the sun and the gloom of the day leaving Harry bedridden for the first time in weeks.

He always tried his best to avoid days like this — trapped within his home, caged in memories that make every step he takes heavier than the last, wishing for just the smallest taste of salvation — because it’s when he’s left alone between these walls that the darkest parts of him come out, ravaging, feeding off of what’s left of him.

Rain reminds him of the day Y/n left. Thunder reminds him of Malibu. Malibu reminds him of all the things he ever used to do with her — on the bed, on the couch, in the hallways.

There’s no escape from what he’s done.

But when the time hits two in the afternoon and Harry still hasn’t gotten up from under his blankets, he decides that doing even the bare minimum with his day would be some sort of accomplishment.

He decided to get the mail.

And what a terrible decision that was, Harry thinks, as he sees an envelope addressed to him in unfamiliar handwriting by an unfamiliar name. Something about it upsets his stomach and throws him off key, knowing in his heart that he shouldn’t open it, but it’s heavy in his hands and he can’t ignore the temptation of it all.

Another terrible decision he’s made.

Please join us for the wedding of Alfie Lexington & Y/n Y/l/n.

Saturday, September 25, 2021 at 3:00 PM.

Dartmouth House. Mayfair, London.

The downpour feels like a drizzle compared to the cries Harry lets out as he reads the wedding invitation, his worst nightmare playing out right before his very eyes and if he wasn’t already so fucked up, he’d try his best to ignore it.

Y/n played her move. She wants him to strike back. She wants to win and watch him lose more than he already has. That’s all she has left of him.

His lips tremble as he sniffles, the invitation shaking between his palms as he lets reality sink in.

Y/n is getting married.

Y/n is happy.

Y/n is going to spend the rest of her life with somebody other than him — somebody that was once his friend.

It's unfathomable to him. The connection him and Y/n shared was unlike any other. They were drawn to each other instantaneously, their feelings of infatuation never once dying down because it was simply incapable of doing so.

They put each other first. They made each other better people, helped each other grow through all the droughts and winter days, and continuously found ways to become closer to one another. They were so comfortable and confident in their company, and so every day they spent together within those four years had never been anything less than pure happiness.

They were meant to be. He didn’t see it then, but he sees it now, and now that’s all he sees because everything he sees is her. 

To know that it’s no longer the same for her kills him from the inside out, because now she really doesn’t belong to him.

He lets out a sound that can only resemble what would be a whine and a groan made together, sobbing as he flips the invitation around, only to find another saved date he just doesn’t have the heart to see — an engagement party for all the invited to join.

He’s so overwhelmed with devastation that his brain becomes fogged, his body disassociating from itself as he rips the invitation apart, growling and screaming and wailing as he just keeps ripping it and ripping it and ripping it.

He’s destroying it in the same way it destroyed him until he gives up, slamming his fists down upon the counter, losing control of himself beneath all his pain and regrets. This wasn’t how any of this was supposed to happen. This isn’t what was supposed to come from this life.

He’s barely surviving as it is.

And he just needs to see her again.

But he doesn’t know how he’d react once he does. Whether he’d want to kiss her, to hate her, to love her all over again, he doesn’t know. His entire world is collapsing and he doesn’t know how to save it from falling apart. He can’t take any more risks when it comes to her.

But what is love without fear and danger? What would it say about him if he were to walk away from this now instead of trying just once more with her?

So with a heavy heart and a sobbing chest, he doesn’t take his chances.

And Y/n simply just couldn’t believe the sight in front of her.

Harry is standing at her doorstep, soaked head to toe, shaking in his bones. His lips are a light shade of blue and his eyes an alarming shade of red, somehow wetter than the rest of him. And as the thunder rumbles beneath her feet and nearly sends her to her knees, it goes to show her that he really is here, standing at her doorstep, and it’s not just a dream.

And she must have been struck by the shock of his presence because her tongue is suddenly tied, her throat dry, her lips fallen open yet forgetting how to breathe.

She just looks at him, soaking him all in, trying to understand what exactly led him back to the biggest mistake of his life.

“Harry?”

“So that was your way of getting back at me?! After three fucking years?!”

Her mouth falls open in disbelief, her eyebrows furrowing in defense. How he could possibly accuse her of something she didn’t even do — considering she hadn’t made any attempts to reach out to him since the moment she left Malibu — makes her feel even more betrayed than before.

He should know her better than this. He should know her from the inside out at this point, but she supposed three years really is a long time, because she’s never seen this side of Harry before. He seems so different to her now.

“Don’t you dare come to my home and try to make an ass out of me! Since when have I ever been the kind of person to get back at somebody?!”

Harry stutters for a moment, his anger and jealousy and hurt blinding him from the truth that Y/n never goes out of her way to get even. Her heart is too big, but he can’t shake this feeling that the person who sent him the invitation was out to do him harm.

And nobody had more of a reason to hurt him than Y/n.

“So the wedding invitation, then? You had nothing to do with that?”

He speaks it condescending, as if he didn’t believe a word she said, but that’s not what it comes down to. It comes down to the fact that she has moved on and found herself somebody so much better than him, and he has no one.

She shakes her head as if to gather her thoughts, confused about how he even found out about the wedding considering Harry quit the firm just hours after he left Malibu, leaving him with no contact to anybody that had any string tied back to her.

“Of course I had something to do with the wedding invitations! I’m the one getting married!”

She pauses then, her cold demeanor dropping into something Harry wants to say resembles a hint of relief, but it’s much more cross than that, much more serious, and he doesn’t expect what’s coming next.

“That’s what this is about, isn’t it? Me getting married?” She speaks it through a small, bitter laugh. “I should have known the only way you’d fight for me was by being with somebody else. You never could stand being second to me, as ironic as that is.”

“I could give two shits about you getting married.” He lies through clenched teeth, his stomach sick at the mere thought of it. “But I do have an issue with you inviting me to your wedding after walking out on me.”

Her head snaps back up to him.

“Wait, Harry, what are you talking about?” She frowns, trying to make sense of it. “I didn’t invite you to the wedding.”

Why would she?

They are no longer friends, no longer much of anything, so for her to take time out of her day to sabotage anything but herself wouldn’t feel right to her. Besides, it was her decision to never speak to Harry again, she wouldn’t ever take her word back.

Harry frowns then, too, because she isn’t faking her emotions. She’d always been terrible at doing so, and the way her eyes scream and beg for answers can’t go ignored. He, again, feels like the absolute worst person in the world.

“Then who did?” He whispers.

There’s only one possible answer.

-

Seven months ago.

Alfie insisted that he and Y/n had a New Year’s Eve party. They’d never had one before, as Y/n much preferred staying in with a bottle of champagne and celebrating with a lobster dinner and late night reruns of The Honeymooners.

But Alfie was persistent. Very persistent. Too persistent. So persistent she had no choice but to give in, and she just didn’t understand why.

She didn’t understand it as days passed and all Alfie talked about was the stupid party. She didn’t understand it when he rented out one of the most expensive venues. She didn’t understand it when he laid awake the entire night before, too anxious to fall asleep. She didn’t understand it when he asked her to wear his favorite dress.

She wished that she did the moment it happened.

The clock was ticking.

“Five!”

Alfie reached for Y/n’s hand.

“Four!”

Y/n noticed something shift in the air.

“Three!”

Alfie reached his other hand into his pocket.

“Two!”

Y/n knew what was coming.

“One!”

Alfie dropped to one knee.

“Happy new year!”

It was every girl’s dream — the fireworks, the balcony, the view, the prince charming that would whisk her away to spend the rest of eternity together — yet it couldn’t have felt any more like a nightmare.

It wasn’t what she wanted. Not then, not ever before, not once during the span of their relationship, and time seemed to have stopped moving forward.

There she was, in the center of the universe as everybody stopped and stared, gasping and gushing at the sight of a man on his knees for a woman. An act of vulnerability, of love, of submission, yet it didn’t feel like any of those things.

It all felt so wrong.

She began to cry.

To everyone else, it seemed as though she was crying from happiness. Her devoted boyfriend of two years finally asked for her hand in marriage, to be the mother of his children, to spend the rest of their lives tied together by a vow, unable to be broken. So it was no surprise when everybody let out an awe of endearment, nobody (not even Alfie) knowing her well enough to distinguish the difference between her happiest and saddest cries.

Harry would have known.

And that was all it seemed to come back to in that very moment in time.

Harry.

What she would have given to feel his hands on her waist, blocking her body from view with his, taking her away from all the unwanted eyes on her fragile body. He would have done it in a heartbeat because he always did — he always found a way to help her escape her horrifying realities, even the sweetest of ones.

What she would have given for it to be him kneeling in front of her… this all would have been so different.

Her lover of two years was promising her a future, yet all she could think about was somebody stuck in her past, yet so heavily prevalent in her present.

But she couldn’t say no. How could she when everybody expected the answer he was looking for, ready to toast to the bride and groom? How could she when phones captured the beginning of the rest of their lives, ready to share for all to see?

But she couldn’t say yes, either.

She settled for a nod of her head.

The crowd cheered, some clapping, others clinking their glasses, lovers kissing. She only caught a glimpse of those celebratory moments before everything around her drowned in her tears, voices of congratulations so distant beneath her heavy, hyperventilated breaths.

Alfie embraced her, then, and she felt his laughs of euphoria rumbling in his chest as hers met his, and she couldn’t even pretend.

She rested her chin on his shoulder, her expression void of everything that she should have been feeling. And her eyes went blank as they caught a reflection of her through the balcony windows — the last time she ever saw herself for what she truly was.

-

That same day.

Y/n was a mess waiting for Alfie to get home.

Seeing Harry again filled her with so many different emotions, she didn’t know which one to start with. She wanted to cry, wanted to scream, wanted to destroy everything and everybody that dared get in her way, she wanted to disappear. Yet she had done none of it. All she could manage to do was pace around her bedroom, biting at her nails and getting lost in her scrambled thoughts, her mind and body moving at a million miles an hour, unable to be tamed.

This is precisely the reason Y/n never wanted to see him again.

He does things to her, he always has. She hardly has any control over herself whenever it comes to him and she fucking hates it. No matter how sad, how mad, how hurt or how upset, there was something about his presence that made her see past all of that. It saddens her how much she used to love it.

But her moods swing at her relentlessly, the sadness turning to anger because yes, she is angry. She’s angry that he still has this much of a hold on her, especially after everything he’s done, and she’s even more angry that he hasn’t yet apologized for it.

Because it was all getting better. The constant wondering about what he’s doing or who he’s with and the continuous string of thought always leading back to him was all finally falling into its place. She was finally finding her place.

And then her fiancè did this.

When she hears the bedroom door open, she hardly gives Alfie any time before she starts a fight, wishing nothing more than to take it all out on him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Y/n fumes, everything tainted red with anger as she looks into his eyes and feels nothing but hurt and betrayal. “Inviting Harry to our wedding behind my back?! Do you not remember what he did to me?! Do you not realize what you just did?!”

He frowns, not sarcastic or menacing, but he genuinely seems upset that she’d ever even ask him such a question.

“Y/n…” Alfie sighs, and she suddenly hates the way he’s always managed to remain calm in the most heated of arguments. She wants to start a war with it, to go for the kill, to make him crawl and beg and bleed for her forgiveness. “Of course I remember what he did to you, which is exactly why I did it.”

Her hands turn to fists.

“Are you kidding me?!”

“I wanted to hurt him for hurting you! God damn it, Y/n… after finding out what he did to you all I could think about was ripping him to pieces and that urge never left me, especially after we got together.”

He slumps himself down at the foot of the bed, loosening the tie around his neck, almost too aggressively. And if she wasn’t so out of her mind enraged, she would try her hardest to understand his side.

But there is no excuse for this. There’s no excuse for any of it.

“So now you use our marriage as a way to get back at him?!”

Y/n may not love Alfie the right way, but she had never stooped so low to treat her marriage like a weapon, ready to strike at any moment in time. It wasn’t something she used to inflict pain onto anybody else but herself, no matter how hard it had gotten.

And though she once believed their engagement meant more to him than it ever meant to her, she can’t help but feel as if that’s just another lie she’d been forced to live with.

He went behind her back deliberately to hurt somebody even she never intended on hurting. He knew what was to come of this and yet here he is, letting it all happen for satisfaction’s sake.

It feels like all she will ever be is used.

“Is that what this is to you?! A point on your scoreboard?! A big ‘fuck you, i won!’?”

“Isn’t that what this is for you?”

“Don’t you dare turn this into my problem.” She spits through clenched teeth, punching at the dresser beside her with the side of her fist, face burning with fury. “I’m not the one sending him our wedding invitations!”

“And I’m not the one staying up past midnight scrolling through pictures of him on my phone!”

Her mouth shuts then, her hard and pressed features softening at the unexpected turn of the conversation.

She had been looking at pictures of Harry almost every night since Malibu, she just never expected to get caught. She could physically feel Alfie fall asleep against her, so she always waited thirty minutes before she took her phone out, looking back at everything that once was.

It was the only thing she ever truly wanted.

It’s what she kept going back to — a habit that came as naturally as telling her best friend about her day, about her perspectives on the world, about the lack of guidance in her life — like a phone call at the end of the day as a way to unwind.

She had make believe conversations with him as she scrolled endlessly through her favorite photo album, the thickness of his accent engrained in her mind as she thought of everything he’d say to her if he were still around. And if that wasn’t enough, she’d live vicariously through the memories they made together and replay those moments all night, until they lulled her to sleep.

“I told you from day one that —”

“That you’re never going to let him go, I know. I know that he was the love of your life at one point but this is just pathetic now, Y/n. Absolutely nothing short of pathetic.” She frowns, his choice of words making her heart sink because he knows exactly how to do it. And he sighs, rubbing his hands up and down his face as if he were in agony. “I didn’t know this was the kind of shit I was signing up for.”

Her eyes brim with tears but don’t offer anything more, only upset that he couldn’t find a way to understand her when she’s trying so hard. But he never has and he never will — not in the way she needs him to and not in the way that could ever make this work.

“I’m not sorry for what I did.” She confesses sadly, her bottom lip between her teeth and fingers picking the skin around her nails as she tries, yet again, to make him see. “He was my best friend before he was anything else to me. There was a time in my life where he was all I had.”

And though her heart is still with Harry in every aspect of every way, it’s true. He was her best friend and that’s what she misses the most. There was so much to him that meant so much to her and none of it could ever be replaced, not even by Alfie.

“You know I love you but you also know I'm not the same woman you fell for in Malibu. I’m my worst self when I don't have him around and your favorite parts of me don’t exist without him. Don’t pretend like you don’t see that.”

His hands twitch against his lap, his shoulders slumping because it’s true. The most lively and brightest parts of herself had died the first step she’d taken away from him that night. Sure, she’s still the most resilient and beautiful woman Alfie had ever known, but she’s never been the same since then.

She’s still in love with him and there’s nothing for him to do about it. He didn’t see it until he saw the way she sulked over Harry that night, all those years later, with a diamond ring on her finger that just seemed to weigh her down even more.

None of this means anything to her.

“It’s been three years, Y/n. Just find yourself a new best friend and move the fuck on already. I’m getting sick and tired of this.”

What he doesn’t understand is that she is, too.

-

Two weeks later.

Y/n shouldn’t be this alone at her own engagement party, but it’s the impossible things that always manage to find their way to her.

The party consisted mostly of Alfie’s friends, considering Y/n is much more of an introvert than he is and the small number of friends she does have seemed to have disappeared within the sea of unfamiliar faces. She felt lost for a moment, but when she finally found her fiancè, he had been too invested in his own friends to spare her a single one of his glances, and it soon became disheartening to wait for him to acknowledge her when the thought of her never once crossed his mind.

So she ends up on the steps of their back porch, sipping on a glass of champagne, overlooking the garden, breathing in the silence.

She closes her eyes and succumbs herself to the summer breeze, wondering what she has to do to find a single glimmer of happiness. Her life is just so sad, a labyrinth of betrayal and hurt and heartbreak she can’t ever escape.

Darkness is all she sees when she thinks about her future. There is nothing for her to look forward to. Every day will come and go the same way it has been — unwanted, dreaded, wasted, another failed attempt of contentment. It all seems so hopeless to her now.

The champagne doesn’t stand a chance when it comes to a lonely Y/n, and it isn’t nearly enough to curb her mood, either as she huffs at her empty glass, wishing she had taken another.

She sets it down next to her, placing both her elbows on her knees, getting lost in her world of sorrow, long forgotten by her lover.

Harry is the first one to find her.

He had parked his car across the street from her shared home with Alfie, and even from his distance he knew Y/n wouldn’t be inside. He knows her too well to know she wouldn’t find her place in crowded rooms where the attention is all on her, even if it was all in the comfort of her own home.

And the fact that Alfie didn’t know her senses of belonging well enough to accommodate them made him seeth. She is an independent, a lone wolf, a woman who moves solely in her own way and anybody who’s ever loved her knows that above all else.

He doesn’t care for her.

And he doesn’t need to go looking for her because he can feel her, as if the universe somehow bent its laws of gravity and pushed him straight to her back porch steps, where he finds her all alone.

She nearly jumps out of her skin when she feels a hand fall softly on her shoulder, but immediately sinks into comfort when she sees that it’s Harry moving to sit beside her, his hand refusing to pull away.

Finally, she has a friend.

“Hey.” She says softly, one of the corners of her lips turning slightly upward at his unexpected visit. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

He smiles briefly at her before he overlooks the garden, his fingers squeezing at her shoulder before resting his palms over his lap. And there’s something about being next to her again that makes everything around him fall back into place. This is where he’s meant to be.

“Honestly, neither did I, all things considered.” They both let out a chuckle, the atmosphere between them so horrifically sad yet so incredibly right. “But I just really felt like I had to be here for you tonight.”

Despite the years that had passed and everything that drove them apart, Y/n remains who he loves most in this world. His connection to her never died, so the sudden gusts of off and disturbing feelings Harry used to get whenever Y/n was troubled had never left him. He felt it all just as strongly — her anxieties, her fears, her tears and everything in between. And he’s glad that part of them never died because the look in her eye tells him everything he needs to know.

She’s absolutely miserable.

She sighs, the corners of her lips falling as she stares at her engagement ring, her thumb and pinky twisting it around her ring finger, itchy and heavy no matter which way it's worn.

“Me and Alfie aren’t doing so well.”

She didn’t have to say it because he can already see how treacherous they are together, but that doesn’t make it any easier for him to hear.

He lost his right to be selfish with her in Malibu, and though he does gain a sense of happiness knowing he may have a chance with her again, it’s significantly outweighed by her sadness. Nothing had ever pained him more than that.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

She shakes her head, her fingers reaching up to tuck fallen pieces of hair behind her ear.

“Don’t be. I don’t really know why he decided to do this, anyways.”

Harry’s lips fall.

“Marry you?”

Y/n’s leg begins to shake, her greatest and most absentminded nervous habit. And Harry had always been quick to place his hand over her thigh and rub at the surface, meeting her eye halfway and taking a deep breath in, to which she would always follow. He hesitates to do so tonight, but settles for it anyway.

She looks appreciative beneath it all.

She’d forgotten about Harry’s subtle favors over the past three years, so to feel it all again when she has been so low and neglected feels like a blessing to her. It feels like somebody finally cares for her, and that’s all she had been wanting all along.

Harry, she feels, is the only one who ever truly has.

“We just never talked about it. It was this big, ginormous, unavoidable, life changing question thrown at me with no warning at all.” Her forehead falls to her palms, as if humiliated by the memory. “In front of everybody.”

Harry’s heart crumbles from within him because nothing Alfie has given her has been anything she’s wanted, and that’s not what she deserves.

He remembers it so distinctively now — the way she poured her heart out to him just a few months before Malibu. It was the third Valentine’s Day they’d spent together and Y/n got so drunk, she spent nearly the entire night venting to him about everything she’d feared when it came to her future relationships.

With her head on his shoulder and her leg slung over his hips, Y/n’s thoughts were so destructive, she couldn’t bear to entertain them any longer, so she decided to let it all out.

“And what if my boyfriend proposes to me in a room full of people? I’d drown in sensory overload. And what if I want to say no? Or maybe? Or yes, just not right now? With all those people looking at me? I think I would pass away.”

Harry looked down at her in subtle curiosity, his fingers playing with her hair in the way they always liked. She was the only thing in his sight that wasn’t spinning out of his control.

“So how do you want to be proposed to?”

She hummed, as if contemplating her answer. But she knew. She already knew.

“In bed, probably. It’s so intimate and private there. So non-traditional. You’re the most done down at your first hour and something about someone wanting you at your worst, forever, is so poetic.”

She looked up at him with doe eyes merely seconds after.

“Will you make sure he does that for me, please? Promise me you’ll try.”

He smiled the best he could at her, pressing his lips down to her forehead. They lingered there for a moment, and Y/n’s breath was taken away.

“I’ll make sure of it.”

What makes the memory even worse was how much he really did love her and how blinded he was to it. He kissed her. He held her. He played with her hair. He slept beside her that night. He kissed her again goodnight. He brought her breakfast in bed the next morning. He did it all over again.

It couldn’t have been any more obvious.

But there’s something about the way she hasn’t expressed any of those concerns with Alfie that doesn’t sit right with him. It just doesn’t make any sense to him.

“Been with him for how long now, two years? And you really didn’t expect him to propose to you? Have you met you?”

She sulks herself deeper into her knees.

“I don’t know. I guess — I guess I just never really thought about it.”

Never thought about it?

“But you’ve always wanted to get married.” He says it more like a question than a statement, genuine concern and confusion in his tone of voice as his eyebrows furrow, trying to comprehend it.

She looks up at him with a void, empty expression.

“Yeah, but never to him.”

Her eyes linger on Harry’s for just a beat longer — just long enough to catch a glimpse of the way his lips fall and the way his face drains of color — before she blinks away from him, turning her gaze back toward the garden. The flowers have never looked so lifeless.

“Y/n… if I had known how you felt, I —”

“It wouldn’t have mattered.” Y/n shakes her head, looking back down at her trembling hands, tears now burning in her eyes as the sudden sadness of the conversation starts to weigh down on her. “You had four years to feel the same for me and you never did. My feelings would have done nothing to yours.”

“And I never did?” Harry asks incredulously, his voice low and faltered behind the heaviness of her words. “Is that really what you’ve been living with the past three years?”

Loose tears begin to fall down her cheeks because yes, she has been living with his unrequited love for six years and no, it’s never gotten any easier. It’s pathetic and ridiculous and the most unexplainable form of grief she’d ever carried, but it’s the most devastating kind. “How could I think any differently?”

“Because it was real, Y/n. Fuck.” He lets out a strangled, dry chuckle upon his words as he runs his shaking fingers through his hair. He’s nervous, absolutely terrified because if he fails to show her how deeply he feels for her now, he may never get the chance to again, and losing her is no longer an option for him. Not when she’s so close. “Because you know me better than anybody else and you know I wasn’t faking it with you. How could I have been? You would have seen right through me and you know it. You always do.”

Perhaps the love blinded her. Perhaps her heart was so invested it deceived her to see only the things she wanted as a subconscious form of self-preservation. It’s not an impossible possibility, and it’s certainly one she believed in throughout all this time, but a part of her can’t help but find a hint of truth stuck somewhere between his words.

The kissing, the touching, the tasting, the laughing and the loving did feel real to her. It felt real when she saw the way he smiled after every one of their kisses, and the way he reached for her when it was just to two of them, like he couldn’t get enough, and the way he moaned against her, and the way he told her he loved her, like he meant it.

She knows all of his movements and all of his habits — knows all the signs of his stress, his sadness, his tension, his ease. She knows the emotions he wears and the ones he doesn’t, notices everything he does and doesn’t do, and never once did anything he did with her seem anything less than genuine.

She hates that it’s taken her so long to see that, but it doesn’t fix all that he had broken now that she does. She wishes that it could, this life would be so much easier for her to live.

“You really hurt me.” Her voice quivers, low and quiet as she speaks her truth, and it breaks his heart all over again. Never has he heard her sound so sad in his life, and it’s all because of him.

“You think I don’t know that? I hate myself for everything I put you through because you didn’t deserve it. You didn’t deserve any of it.”

He pauses, waiting for her to say anything else, but it doesn’t come. All there is for her to offer are her silent cries and waterfall eyes.

“That night with Lydia… nothing happened. She caught me off guard and I panicked because how could I not? She was giving me everything I thought I wanted yet all I could think about was how I wanted it to be you.” Y/n’s breath falters then, a knot forming in her chest as she revisits the sight of that horrific night. “I tried so hard to talk it out with her, but she wouldn’t let it go. She kept persisting and persisting and she didn’t give me the chance to explain myself before you walked in on us.”

She didn’t truly know what happened between him and Lydia, but she had her ideas. Whether they kissed, touched, confessed their love or crossed bases, the truth would have only made it worse for herself. Ignorance was bliss when it came to them.

But she didn’t think nothing happened, either, especially when the first words that Y/n heard Lydia say to him that night was I love you, too.

Too.

Too.

Too.

Like he said it first.

She really hopes he didn’t, but she’s so afraid of his answer that she doesn’t ask.

But she doesn’t say anything else, either, because there’s so much more she needs to hear from him but she doesn’t know where to start. She doesn’t know what to do, yet she wants to know everything.

“You were all I ever wanted and I’m so sorry for the way I had to find that out. I’m so sorry that I had to hurt you to realize how ridiculously in love I am with you.”

And how ridiculous it’s gotten.

“It haunts me. It follows me everywhere I go. Every morning, I think about the way you slept beside me in Malibu and how perfect you looked before you even had the chance to wake. I still reach for you even when I know you’re not there just so I can say I tried. Every time I walk the street, I somehow convince myself that I see you walk past me and I always turn back just in case I missed you. Then I spend the rest of my day wondering where you are and how much happier I’d be if you were with me.”

And it’s all so true.

She is around him at all times. Her spirit lingers in the air he breathes, her shadow alive in every ray of sun that touches his skin, unable to be soaked away. The ghost of her is everywhere he is, always, and it pained him just as much as it comforted him.

“I come across all these women and go on all these dates in hopes to find someone that makes me feel half the things you do, just to go home hours later and watch all the stupid videos and photos I’ve taken of you throughout the years because it’s you that my heart is after. Nobody else.”

She melts into herself at his confession.

To know it wasn’t one-sided — the longing, the missing, the wanting so bad that he couldn’t help but look back at all their memories together. Whether he was beside those women or not, she had done the very same thing, and it’s almost as if those hidden moments of desperation were a silent call to one another.

He reaches his hand to her thigh again, his skin warming her to her bitter core, setting a fire in her that had burnt out many years ago. And she doesn’t stop staring at it.

“I love you, Y/n. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything else in this world. I love you so much that it drove me crazy to think about you spending the rest of your life with somebody else because I couldn’t imagine spending the rest of mine without you. But that’s my heartbreak to live with, not yours.”

But it is. It is because he’s the only one she’s ever wanted and living her life with someone else was once unimaginable. It still is. Even through her relationship with Alfie and everything they’ve built together, it wasn’t ever the same.

And it’s not a matter of her not loving him, because she does, just not in the way she loves Harry. He is a high she constantly fiends for, an intoxication that keeps her wild and free, an addiction like no other. Being without him makes her feel sober — in a constant state of withdrawal, falling down deeper into her urges, dependent solely on her relapses — and Alfie is just the mild distraction.

All of this is her heartbreak.

His fingertips rub softly at her leg.

“You’re the best person I’ve ever known. I don't know how I’m ever going to find a way to move on from you, and I don’t know if I ever will, but at least I had the chance to tell you everything you deserved to know. I didn’t think I’d ever have it.”

She still doesn’t answer him, but he didn’t expect anything more.

He wishes he could stay with her for just a bit longer, but he doesn’t want to overstay his welcome (if he could even call it that). And he starts to cry as he thinks about leaving her alone again.

She’s forever going to be his hardest loss.

“I have so much more I want to say to you, but this is your night with Alfie. I don’t want to be the one to hold you back from it.”

He squeezes the top of her thigh, dreading the let go. This may be the last time he sees her or speaks to her for a while, and that in itself is enough to make this so much harder on him.

“I’ll miss you everyday.”

He can’t even look at her as he says it.

His eyes are flooded with sadness as he stands from where he sat beside her, shaking fingers wiping at his tears, his heart the emptiest it’s ever been yet his chest heavier than ever before.

It suddenly dawns on her that she never wants to see him walk away from her again. She doesn’t want to go another dreaded day without him beside her, or go the rest of the night thinking of everything she could have said, but didn’t.

She wants him. She loves him. And she doesn’t want him to go.

“Wait.” She grabs his hand in both of hers before he can make it too far, her eyes wet but the brightest he’d ever seen them. “The party doesn’t end for a while and — and Alfie hasn’t come looking for me since it started, so…” She hesitates, his hands still in hers, and everything is right in the world again. “Do you want to take a walk with me? It doesn’t matter where just, please stay here with me?”

And how could Harry ever say no to her?

He lifts her up from where she sits, the first real and genuine smile he’s seen out of her since they’ve reunited spreading on her lips, and he wouldn’t trade this for the world.

They stray further than expected, catching up on everything they’ve missed throughout the years. It all feels so easy and so right, as if time had hardly passed between them, yet they’ve never felt more apart. Never once did they expect to live in each other’s world through late night storytelling and clandestine getaways.

They laugh. They cry. They reminisce. And they don’t let go of each other’s hand the whole night through.

-

Y/n returns to the back porch a couple hours later, grabbing the finished champagne glass she’d left on the top step to seem as inconspicuous as possible. Not that she necessarily has to, she doesn’t feel as though she’s done anything wrong, she just couldn’t imagine what would come from this if Alfie was to find out.

She slides the back door shut quietly behind her, the remaining guests only giving her a small smile of acknowledgement, none at all suspicious. Some offer her hugs and mingle with her, congratulating her as if it were their first time doing so, telling her how perfect of a marriage she and Alfie are going to have.

If only they knew.

But it isn’t until the last of the lingering guests make it out the door that Y/n and Alfie are left alone — the most dangerous place for them to be. And neither of them speak a word to each other, just meeting eyes for a brief moment in time, as if avoiding everything else that came with the night.

The air is heavy, the chill brutal, but it’s what Y/n is so used to. This is her normalcy.

“I’m glad you had fun tonight.” Y/n says plainly, gathering all the littered champagne and wine glasses floating around the kitchen.

In any other circumstance, she would have stood her ground much more strongly, but the bitterness inside her subsided to something much sweeter after her time with Harry. The weight of the world is gone, it seems, the moon and sun and stars aligned perfectly in her universe. She is weightless, floating, her spirit dancing along the edges of her own personal heaven.

The silence Alfie responds with doesn’t strike a nerve like it usually would. It rather goes unnoticed, only furthering her into her illicit dreamland.

Harry’s touch lingers on her skin and she can feel it all the same even though he’s gone. A shiver runs down her spine as she thinks back to the way his lips pressed against her cheek before parting ways, muttering the quietest goodnight, lovie against her skin, leaving her breathless.

She is endlessly hypnotized by him, forever under his spell, as if his lips were made of magic.

And Alfie’s heart sinks when he sees the look on her face. It’s been years since he’s seen it, yet it’s all so familiar once he does. It’s the same look he fell in love with when he first met her in Malibu.

It’s all so clear to him now.

“So we’re just going to pretend that you didn’t leave our engagement party with Harry?”

Y/n lifts her head to look at him properly for what seems to be the first time tonight, his question catching her off guard since she had so rightfully assumed he wasn’t concerned about her whereabouts, and Harry didn’t make his presence known to anybody but her.

But she doesn’t fight it, doesn’t deny it, doesn’t try to scrape for excuses that’ll only dig her in deeper because she doesn’t regret what she did or why she did it. She has no reason to.

“And we’re just going to pretend that you didn’t completely exclude me from our engagement party?”

Alfie’s hands slam against the kitchen counter, a bitter and sarcastic laugh falling from his lips, as if she had said something untrue. “So I don’t give you attention for two minutes and you decide to run off with some other guy?”

“Two minutes? Try two hours on a night that was supposed to be for us.” It’s her turn to slam her hands down, except hers land on her thighs. “I was sitting on our back porch all night and nobody, not even you, came looking for me.” She sits down on the island stool with burnt-out eyes and heavy shoulders, drained from the reality of their relationship, tired of trying for somebody that’s never held her heart the right way. “Harry was miles away and even he found a way to find me.”

And just like always, it all circles back to Harry.

She’s never been one to compare — verbally, at least — so there is a gloom that hovers over her after she says it, the guilt settling in her bones, but it’s the reality of their situation. An old lover held his hand out to her while Alfie refused hers, and it ended up exactly where it had always belonged.

“All you had to do was ask me to be with you.” He sighs, depleted, because it’s true. He would have been there the second she called his name. It’s the fact that she didn’t that shows him how incompatible he is with her wants.

“I shouldn’t have to.” She frowns, fingers fiddling with the skin around her nails as she contemplates what there is to say next. “Is that how this marriage is going to work? Me begging you to be there for me all the time? Because I’ve never been that kind of person. I will never be that person.”

Alfie breathes heavily in response but doesn’t know what else to do or say to get her to stay. She’s slipping right through his fingers and he can physically feel it — can feel the way she feels for another man, can see the way her eyes refuse him, as if hiding away from something.

But this isn’t about him, it can’t be because it was all going so well, so much better than ever before and nothing ever pushed her away, until Harry.

This is all him.

“You know he doesn’t love you, right?” Alfie breaks the silence, her heart along with it, because she needs to be reminded how badly he had done her wrong. She wouldn’t be turning him into the villain if she did. “He lied to you. He used you to get what he wanted. He —”

“He does love me.” She interrupts him because she doesn’t want to hear it. She doesn’t want him to talk her out of this, no matter how much she should. But it’s on the tip of her tongue, almost breaking from its resistance, and she can’t swallow it back down now. “He was there for me more than you were tonight and he’s not even the one I’m engaged to.”

Another deafening silence.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He understood her, loud and clear, but she’s speaking between the lines. There’s a part of her that’s holding back from something and he already knows what it is, he just needs to hear her say it.

So she does.

“I’m in love with him, Alfie.”

If the confession of her disloyalty wasn’t enough to tear her apart, the choked back sob she heard from Alfie undeniably did so.

She shuts her eyes, pained, unable to take it.

He doesn’t deserve this, but she’s left with no choice. She’ll only hurt him more if she stays.

So she doesn’t.

-

The morning after.

Harry didn’t know what was to come after he confessed his love to Y/n — whether it be a new day of a new life away from her, or the beginning of something so beautifully timeless, he had no idea.

The closure warmed him enough to lull him to sleep, to keep him deep in a dreamstate where all he envisioned was sunny days and the touch of her hand in his. He had never felt so light, so free, so liberated from the cage of guilt and unspoken truths that even if he were to never see or hear from Y/n again, it would have been okay.

He said what he needed to say, she heard what she wanted to hear and that’s all he could have done without interfering with her relationship.

But what he wakes up to is far from anything that ever crossed his mind.

Seven missed calls and five text messages. All from Y/n.

H, please tell me you’re awake. I need you.

I ended it with Alfie.

I don’t have anywhere to go and you’re the only person I want to see right now. Can you meet me at the coffee shop? I really need to talk to you.

Please wake up.

H?

Harry sits himself up in a state of panic, his eyes jumping between the time she had messaged him last and the time it is now. And he springs himself out of bed when he realizes that he hasn’t missed out on her yet, planning to get to her as fast as he can as he throws yesterday’s outfit, not at all caring about how it makes him look.

She ended it with Alfie.

He’s the only person she wants to see right now.

She needs him.

That’s all he can process as he scurries down the street, thinking of everything he has left to tell her to try and win her heart again. He knows he’s undeserving of it, and she does too, but that doesn’t stop him from loving her the way that he does.

His life is meaningless without her, so dry and bleak and depressing he can’t live another day like it. He can’t and he won’t because he’s going to fix this. He has to fix this.

And it doesn’t take him long to find her because there she is, sitting at their usual outdoor table, a large hot tea held between her hands, her leg shaking, her eyes distant. It's such a heartbreaking sight, and he suddenly wonders if she ever sat there after their breakup, waiting for him, hoping he’d do the very same.

The thought makes his head twitch to the side and fingers twist with guilt because no, he never did. He never went back to that coffee shop since the goodbye. It would have hurt too much, it would have reminded him of everything he’d ever done wrong and he couldn’t bear to face the person he once made of himself.

That person died along with her.

She stands from her seat when she sees him walking toward her, exhausted mentally and physically enough to nearly fall from her feet in the process. But her heart is racing a million miles an hour, her stomach fluttering as he grows nearer, her senses of anything but the love she has for him disappearing to nothing, as if it were just the two of them.

And she just needs to know if it feels that way for him, too.

“Y/n —”

“Did you mean it?”

Harry hesitates then, stopping in his tracks, his head tilting at her in curiosity but his features are softer, sadder, as if the question somehow broke him down further than before.

She doesn’t need to elaborate because he already understands what she’s asking. It was his mistakes and his selfishness that led her to question all his intentions, to doubt every sentiment he’s ever given to her, to wonder what was real and what was pretend.

But he doesn’t know what to start with, he doesn’t know what she needs to hear from him to be satisfied with his answer, or know if what he doesn’t say is what breaks this relationship.

“I need you to look at me and tell me that you meant it.” Y/n demands when he fails to answer her, tears flooding yet her face pressed and hard, committed to hearing every last bit of truth he has left. “Because I gave up everything I had for just the smallest possibility that you did. And that may make me weak, that may make me pathetic, and I may hate myself for the rest of my life knowing I made that decision but I can’t help feeling the way I feel for you.”

This is his last chance.

The window of opportunity is open and he is more than willing to dive head first out of it, but he can’t get ahead of himself. One wrong move, one wrong word, one wrong anything and he will have to endure an eternity of misery without her.

So he gives her more than she demands.

He grabs her face between his two hands, gently stroking her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs, his gaze set on hers so that she can see how deeply he feels for her and how desperate he is for her forgiveness.

“I meant it.” He breathes out, his lips so painfully close to hers, she can feel his breath as he talks and it makes her legs shake from beneath her. “I’m in love with you. You’re all I think about. You’re all I want.” He leans in closer, ever so slightly, just so the ghost of her lips can meet the ghost of his. “There’s never been anybody but you. Just you. Only you.”

Her breath stammers, quivering and cracking as she flutters her eyes shut at his words, unforgiving tears pouring down her cheeks. And she doesn’t know why she’s reacting this way — the love of her life is giving her everything she’s ever asked for and yet all she can manage to do is break down from everything she’d been keeping inside for so long.

He knees buckle as a particularly violent sob nearly takes her down, and if it wasn’t for Harry’s strong hold on her, she’s sure she would have collapsed to the floor.

Her tears, his shirt, his hands, her back.

This is the closest they’ve been to each other in so long, his heart nearly shatters along with hers. He missed this more than he missed anything else in this world.

“Don’t cry, baby. It’s alright. You’re alright.” Harry shushes her, his lips settling on the top of her head as he presses chaste kisses on it, his fingers combing through her unbrushed hair. “I’m with you, okay? I’m never leaving you again.”

And he holds her for a while, tying her together as she falls apart in his arms, vowing to her over and over again that this is all over. All the pain is over. Everything will be different now.

And it was.

It felt different when Y/n and Harry spent the rest of the morning sitting in their favorite coffee shop, at their favorite table, drinking their favorite lattes. It felt different when Harry reached his hand over to hold hers, this time with no ulterior motive.

It felt different when she held his hand back, and when she smiled down at where they were intertwined, as if they were an extension of each other.

And unlike the last time they were there together, he doesn’t have to let go.

#harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #IM EARLY I KNOW IM SORRY BUT I FINISHED SOONER THAN EXPECTED #WHOOP WHOOP #LOVE YALL

[ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa]

Of Constellations & Creeds

Chapter 21: Fire of Devotion 

Summary/Author’s Note: Din presents you with a gift that he has had for while. You start exploring what it means to work as a team and meet a fiery mechanic that takes a shine to you. 

There is a note at the end for what something looks like if you guys are having a hard time picturing it. I tried to do my best. Thank you for reading! 

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!reader (Alpha/Omega/soulmates AU) Word Count:  5k Warnings/Promises: Mature/18+ - language, sexual themes, weapons/shooting

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--

This is what dreaming felt like. 

You were the perfect temperature of warm bodies and crisp blankets. Sprawled among the sheets, you lucidly stretched your body as your mind slowly woke up the rest of your limbs. You started by wiggling your toes while you listened to the birds chitter in the trees outside the barn, your ankles, your back, and lastly your arms. You quietly popped your fingers as you brought them up to rub gently at the back of your sore neck with a groan. 

"Shit."

You winced as you stretched your arms and suddenly remembered why your shoulder was so tender. Rotating the cuff much slower, you worked the stiffness out of the muscle until you could move it more freely. That was at least a little better. 

Before falling into bed last night, Din had ravished you against the wall, then again on the ground, neither one of you able to stop long enough to tear yourselves apart. The idea of moving into the comfort of your bed never came up, due to not wanting to wake the kid and once again...that required you to stop touching each other. Whatever discomfort you felt had absolutely been worth it. 

The morning sun was warm on your face and you opened your eyes to find the Mandalorian facing you...still helmetless. You had worried the moment you fell asleep everything would have ceased to have happened. You really wouldn't have seen his face. You really wouldn't have received his mark. But he had sleepily assured you that closing your eyes erased nothing and he promised to be here when you woke up. Everything you had done last night was no dream. It had been very, very real. 

“Din?” you whispered almost inaudible, as if to test him. 

His eyes were closed and his mouth open ever so slightly as he continued to sleep with his arm bent behind his head against his pillow. He looked younger in the sunlight. The gentle rays tinting his already light brown skin to a warm sienna, it did the same to his hair, finding the small strands of molten gold throughout the tousled dark curls. He was so handsome and you had yet to tell him, but something told you he wouldn't believe you even if you did. 

Did Mandalorians have a concept of beauty? When you spent your entire adolescence with a helmet on, you couldn’t imagine it mattered much what the person underneath looked like. It leveled the playing field so to speak. While society squabbled over such trivial attributes, you imagined Mandalore was more concerned with your ability to win a fight, to negotiate, to contribute to your clan.

It used to be easy to look at him with disdain. Then that disdain turned to something little more than convenient indifference. It was easy to blame him for the destruction of your home world, for the loss of your old life. Anger was always easier. And yet as you looked at him now, and fought the desperate urge to trace the bridge of his nose with the tip of your finger, you knew you felt something else towards him. Something that you hadn't felt in a very long time. Something that felt a lot like affection...a lot like love.

Yes, to you Din was beautiful. But then again when you loved someone, weren’t they always? There was that word again. It made you smile quietly to yourself as you mulled it over in your mind. 

Leaning forward, you pressed your lips to his, a chaste kiss that caused a soft groan to come from somewhere deep in his chest as his arm slid around your middle. 

"Good morning," you whispered against his mouth and he grunted, not bothering to open his eyes. 

"Ten more minutes."

You smiled, kissing him again as he pulled you closer. You reached down and grabbed the blanket before pulling it up over the both of you more securely. For a man that never took a break, he loved sleep more than anyone you had ever met. 

"Alright, ten more minutes," you said quietly as you moved to kiss his cheek before tucking your head under his chin against his chest and closing your eyes. 

--

Saying goodbye to Omera and Sorgan was more painful than you imagined it would be. She was the first person who understood your struggle. If it weren't for her who knew how long it would take you and the Mandalorian to find one another. But no matter how you felt, you couldn't stay here and she couldn't come with you. It seemed everywhere you went there was something new to lose, a new heartache to experience, and as you hugged her tightly and held back your tears she was added to the long list of loss in your life.

"You'll always have a place here," she said quietly as you squeezed her tighter. It's as if she knew you were trying not to fall apart. She felt the soft cloth that you had used to bandage your shoulder and she leaned back to see your face and give you a knowing grin. “But you are now right where you’re supposed to be.”

"Thank you," you said, wiping your eyes as she fixed the shawl around your shoulders and gave your arms a pat. 

“Keep up with your meditations. They’ll help.”

“I know.”

"Take care of them," she nodded to the man behind you who was holding the child and waiting patiently for you by the cart. "But don't forget to take care of yourself."

"I will."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

The trip back through the woods to the Razor Crest was a somber one and you watched as the child stood at the back of the cart and waved its tiny three-fingered hand at the group of children who were waving in return. You leaned forward and rubbed the space between its massive ears gently. However you were feeling was probably nothing compared to the little guy. He didn't know what was going on, or that there were people hunting him, or why you couldn't stay in such a beautiful place where he had made so many friends. It was tough being a kid in such a big world. Maker, it was tough being an adult in such a big world. 

You looked back as you felt Din put his hand on the small of your back and lean his helmet against your temple for the briefest of moments. You lowered your walls ever so slightly and accepted the comfort that he sent your way. Maybe Omera had been right, maybe he had wanted to stay too. 

--

Being back on the Razor Crest came pretty naturally to the three of you and to say you were surprised was an understatement. Fresh supplies from Sorgan filled the storage bunker and with more variety to eat than prepackaged rations, your spirits were much higher than they had been previously. 

“Come on, kid,” you said, gently as you picked up the child and straightened his burlap cloak. “Nap time.” 

“Ba-to!” he squeaked, raising his arms up and giving you a two-toothed smile that warmed your heart. 

“Just for a little bit,” you assured him. “Then you can come up front and help pilot. Sound good?” 

“Ah-yo!”

“No, no, I promise,” you answered him like you were having a full conversation. “I’ll make him let you. You’re plenty old enough,” you scoffed with a laugh. “You just need a few phone books to sit on.”

He gave another happy squeak as you sat him in the hammock hanging above Din’s bed and tucked him in. You dug out the small stuffed frog that Winta had made for him back on Sorgan, with it’s bright blue felt skin and lopsided eyes, and helped him nestle it under his chin. You gave him a soft pat on the head and waited for him to close his eyes before pressing the button on the panel that closed the door with a quiet hiss. 

You heard your name being said from above you and you went to the ladder that led to the cockpit, looking up to see the Mandalorian looking down. He had brought the ship out of hyperdrive for the time being as you researched a plan of action. Without coordinates, it was pointless to travel in circles and waste precious fuel.

“Can you come up here for a second?” he asked and you nodded. 

Taking one rung at a time, you hauled yourself up into the main hull and gratefully accepted his help in order to plop your butt on the floor with a smile. You didn’t have to see his face to know he was smiling back. 

There had been precious little time for him to take off his helmet once you were back on the ship. Somehow the ship was less private than the bed you had shared in the barn. Although you were disappointed not to be able to look over and see his face whenever you wanted, you understood. This was a new experience for him in a way you would never understand, a type of vulnerability that you would never know, but how you longed to kiss him properly again. You wanted to feel his lips on the back of your neck as he curled himself behind you for sleep. All selfish reasons, of course, but that didn’t diminish them in any capacity. 

“What’s up?” you asked as you leaned back on your hands and looked at him where he stooped beside the captain’s chair. 

“I got you something.”

“Me?” You leaned up with widening eyes as you put a hand to your chest in question. 

“Is there someone else I’m traveling with?” he asked and you glared at him before realizing it was his poor attempt at dry humor. “Yes, you.”

He moved under the chair and dragged a medium sized trunk out from the alcove created by the dashboard and the control panel. You recognized it as the trunk he had received from the armorer back on Nevarro. It was a dark slate colored material and he popped the latches before 

beckoning you closer.

“I hope you like them.”

“Whatever it is,” you encouraged him. “I’m sure I will.”

“You don’t have to use any of it if you don’t want to--”

“Din, just show me.”

“Alright, okay,” he let out a heavy breath and lifted the lid before spinning the entire thing slowly around to show you.  

“You didn’t have to get me anyth--oh, goddess,” you said softly in amazement. 

Inside, carefully protected by a velvet type of lining, were crafted pieces of a silver metal. You hesitated, reaching out to touch one of them and thinking better of it before looking at him as if you needed permission. With a careful nod of his helmet, you picked up one of the cylindrical pieces and brought it closer for inspection. 

“Is it--?”

“Beskar,” he nodded. “It’s yours.”

“Din, I--”

He held up a gloved hand to stop any argument you may have had and helped you take the pieces out one by one. Two bracers that fit perfectly over your wrists and protected your forearms about two inches from your elbows. He took them gently and slipped them over your tender skin before locking them into place and letting you get used to the feeling. You made a fist with both of your hands a few times, opening and squeezing, testing how they felt.

“They lock like this,” he said after completing the motion. “They’ll deflect anything. Blaster-proof. Just hold your arm like you would defensively,” he instructed, pulling your arm up to protect your face and tapping it once with his finger. “Ping. Right off the beskar. We can practice.”

“Handy,” you nodded and he dove back into the box for the next piece. 

“This,” he offered the single pauldron to you, moving around your body slightly to fit it to your non-dominant shoulder. “Protects your dominant side by sitting opposite it.”

“Because I turn my body away from the blow?”

“Exactly.” He put it over your shoulder and clamped it down around your bicep. Hooking it securely across your torso. “Plus, the added weight on your dominant arm would slow you down if you’re using your staff.”

“Makes sense.”

“Move your arm,” he said and when you did, he adjusted it slightly. “How’s that?”

“It’s extremely generous and useful but--”

“No buts.”

“I--”

“You’re my Omega,” he interrupted you gently. “You have the right to wear it. And it’ll help keep you safe--and if you’re safe, I’m focused.” His hand came down to rest gently over your shoulder blade, covering the still tender skin of where he had marked you. 

He had a point but it still made your ears burn with embarrassment. You knew he didn’t mean it as an insult to your abilities. You had more than proven you could handle your own when you first met, but the knowledge that your safety proved a distraction to him still made you feel guilty. You felt the sudden need to apologize but you knew Din wouldn’t want to hear it, let alone entertain such an idea.

“There’s one more piece,” he said gently. He held it out gently and when you looked at him in confusion he offered his hands forward. “Can I?”

You nodded and sat still with your hands in your lap as he made sure any stray pieces of your hair were out of the way. Even with the gloves and his armor, he was always so gentle, so careful. When he was satisfied he held out the silver circlet and slipped it around the front of your forehead and over your temples. The blocky beskar came to a strong point between your brows and the edges came down in front of your ears to frame the sides of your face. Each subtle point that mirrored the larger one turned what would have been an ordinary face guard into something much more symbolic. 

“I feel ridiculous,” you said softly, not wanting to hurt his feelings but also having a hard time wrapping your head around the idea that such a piece of finery was really necessary. 

“You look breathtaking,” he argued and it made you smile. “You’re an Omega, an Ursa at that--people deserve to know.” He swallowed hard and nodded to the box. “If we find more beskar I can have a proper helmet made instead of--”

“A tiara?” you asked with a bite of wit and he chuckled. 

“It has more purpose than that, I promise.” He touched the sides that came down almost level with your jaw line. “These protect your peripherals--keeps light from obscuring your view for long range weapons.”

“Smart.”

“And this,” he touched higher, closer to your ear and a soft static hum came before you heard his next words twice, almost overlapping one another. “Has a direct com line to me.”

“That,” you put your hand over his and spoke into the mic as if to test it the other way. “Is incredibly useful.”

He gave a nod to signal that it had worked and he dropped his hand from your face to rest comfortably on your thigh. You put your hand over his and held in gently. It was beautifully crafted and you were having a hard time coming to terms with the idea that he had spent any of the rarest metal in the world on something for you. But that wasn’t the only issue, no, there was something else. An issue of the timeline. 

“When did you have this made?” you asked, tracing the metal etching that lined the outside of the bracer. 

“When we got the bounty on the kid--I had it made along with mine.”

“But that was before I agreed to be your Omega,” you said carefully, watching his body for any sign of tension. There wasn’t any. 

“I know.”

You bit your lip and looked down. With a shake of your head, you swallowed the lump in your throat before speaking. “What if I would have left? What if I never agreed to this? You--”

“But you didn’t.”

“But I could have,” you argued. “And then all of this would have been for nothing. You--”

“I had a feeling.”

You looked at him in awe and realized how much he had staked on you making the right decision. He would have sooner sold his beskar than taken away your freedom, the freedom to choose what you wanted. He had hoped against all hope that you would eventually want him, but there was no guarantee. To Din it was all left up to faith. Faith in his creed, faith in his people, faith in you. It was hard not to feel undeserving of such things, but it only confirmed that perhaps it was time that you had a little faith in him. 

Going up on your knees, you moved the metal storage box out of the way and grabbed him by the front of his chestplate. He said your name softly as you slid into his lap and his hands came around to rest on the swell of your hips. You tilted his helmet back just enough to kiss his lips, drawing a soft sound from them as he tasted you. 

“Thank you,” you said quietly and you were glad you could see his mouth move up in a genuine smile. 

“You’re very welcome.”

The more moments like this that you had, the easier it became to realize just how ‘all in’ you were when it came to the bounty hunter. When he had stepped off of his ship and chased you through the woods now flight like a lifetime ago and in a way it was. That was a different life completely. And you were okay with that. The world seemed a lot less scary now that you were on the same team. 

You leaned in to kiss him again but there was a loud bang and whoosh of energy as something dropped out of hyperspace and the Razor Crest rocked slowly. Din lowered his helmet and the two of you looked around before you slowly climbed out of his lap and to your feet. 

“What was that?”

“I’m not sure.” 

He moved to the pilot’s chair and leaned over the control board, inspecting the map and waiting for the radar to ping something back. Nearly the exact moment a blip showed up on the neon green screen, a blast screamed passed your vessel and struck the ship, rocking it back and forth. 

“Buckle in,” he barked and the two of you moved to your respective places. 

You fell into the co-pilot bucket seat to the right of the Mandalorian and placed your feet up on the footrest to brace yourself. As soon as you clicked your seat belt, your fingers instinctively wrapped around the control stick in front of you and reached up to flip the buttons on your side of the dash. Your side of the ship whirred to life as you shared control of the panel with Din, making it easier for him to focus on flying. Like you had told him before, if he handled the fancy maneuvering, you could squeeze a trigger.

Another wave of fire lit up the dark atmosphere around you and Din turned the ship to try and find the culprit behind the attack. 

“If the kid sleeps through this, I’ll be impressed,” Din said as he swiveled his own chair around and jammed the buttons for the back up thrusters. 

“I’m pretty sure he could sleep through anything,” you agreed.

“Pa-too!” 

The two of you both whipped around to see the small, green thing standing in the doorway with its arms in the air and a wide smile. 

“You were saying?” the bounty hunter chuckled and the child stumbled its way to you as the ship took a nosedive. You barely had time to grab him by the tiny cloak and haul him into your lap. 

“Got ya!” you said and he squealed with laughter. At least someone found your current predicament funny. You tucked him on your lap securely as a series of blaster fire whizzed passed the sides of the ship.  

“Hand over the Child, Mando.” A deep voice said through the com-system and when the child in question squealed again you clapped your hand over his mouth. Another round of shots pinged around you and the crest gave a jolt as one of the engines took a hit. “I might let you live.”

“Guild?” you asked and Mando nodded before grabbing a large lever to his right and yanking it down quickly. 

“You got both hands on the blaster cannons?” he asked. When you nodded, he continued. “When I say fire, let ‘em have it.”

Another hit rocked the ship as the engine on the left started to sputter and burst into flames before it powered down. Din cursed quietly under his helmet and pulled another lever to quickly power down both engines. “Hold on!” he yelled over the roar of the enemy ship as he rolled the crest out of the way of another round of fire. Stars streaked passed the windows as you both stared upwards and the other ship came directly into view. 

“I can bring you in warm,” the enemy bounty hunter said flatly, “...or I can bring you in cold.”

“That's my line,” Din said in a deadly tone before he hit the thrusters and pointed at you and the kid. “Fire!”

You squeezed the trigger on the gun leavers and shots fired from the front of the razor crest, exploding the smaller ship into a wave of orange fire and metal debris. You flinched away from the bright light and the child clapped its tiny hands as Din gave you an approving nod. 

“Oh-ah!”

“Not bad, little one,” you laughed softly, kissing the top of his green head between his ears. “Not bad.” Din clicked on a few of the switches above his head and the dashboard lit up in a series of red and orange lights. You watched him carefully and waited until he stopped before you spoke. “How bad is it?” 

“We’re losing fuel,” he said, pulling up the map and thumbing through a few different screens. He thumbed through a few of the nearby planets before double tapping the screen and bringing up one of the larger orbs. “Mos Eisley is the closest place where we could dock and get some repairs.”

“Will we make it?”

“Of course.” He pulled another leaver and the ship gave a lurch forward before it evened out. “We have enough in the power reserves to get us there--don’t worry.” 

“I’m not worried,” you said, biting your lip to keep a soft smile from gracing your features. The truth was, with Din, you were never worried. 

--

Mos Eisley was the largest spaceport on the planet of Tatooine. Din explained that what it lacked in a centralized docking bay, they made up for in the fact that they had hundreds of hangars that were each maintained by individual workers and mechanics. It sounded impressive but to you it looked like little more than a patch of dust and poorly refined sandcastles. 

The control tower told you to head for bay three-five and the Mandalorian copied as he steered the ship in that direction. The Crest had definitely seen better days as it sputtered and landed with jerky movements before finally touching down in a puff of sand and a clang of metal. 

As you drifted through the vast emptiness of space before entering the atmosphere, the child had somehow lulled himself back to sleep. It was actually pretty impressive the amount of naps he managed to squeeze in in a day. 

You carefully tucked him back into the sleeping compartment and put on the rest of the clothing you had from Arvala-7. It was still breathable but it wasn’t nearly as light as the cloth you had sported back on Sorgan. The leather riding pants and bantha hide boots would keep the sand out of your more intimate places, while the tan corded top and matching cloak kept your skin protected from the harsh sun without absorbing much of the light. 

The beskar looked out of place with the rest of your attire, but something told you it was just the fact that you weren’t used to it. What was your favorite mantra as of late? One thing at a time. 

You stopped in the doorway to the refresher and couldn’t help but stare at your reflection in the mirror. The metal of the headpiece that Din had tucked gingerly into your hairline. You had spent most of your life running from what you were: an Omega, an Ursa, a royal lineage of some kind that you had no desire to uphold. And yet, the tangible evidence was glittering on your forehead. Had Din designed such a thing or had it been at the behest of the Armorer? Somehow you felt you knew the answer to that. 

You saw Din appear behind you in the mirror before you ever heard him and you prided yourself on not nearly jumping out of your skin. 

"Good to go?"

When you nodded, he hit the button that started to lower the ramp on the main hull and you squinted against the bright sun. As you walked down the ramp a group of rust colored droids popped up from their current task and scurried towards the Mandalorian. Their saucer-shaped heads bobbed in place making them look like mushrooms on stilts as they surveyed the ship and chipped back and forth to one another.

Din pushed back his cloak and drew his blaster, firing one shot from the hip into the dirt. The droid squealed and jumped into the air before clamming up into a tiny ball. 

“Mando!” you jumped and looked at him in surprise before looking back to the shivering droid. 

“Hey!” a woman’s voice screeched from inside the building connected to the hangar. She pointed at the two of you through the window of what looked to be a very dusty office. “HEY!” she yelled again, scrambling out the door and stomping over to you. 

Next to the Mandalorian she was incredibly short, but her demeanor was so incredibly scrappy that you weren’t entirely sure who you would bet on if the two of them were in a fight. Her grey mechanic’s jumpsuit was dusty and oil stained from no doubt thousands of ship repairs. Her hair was incredibly curly, poofing out in tight ringlets all around her head to her shoulders and seemed to be growing by the second as she jabbed her finger at Din’s chest.

“You damage one of my droids, you pay for it!”

“Just keep them away from my ship,” Din said flatly, pointed his own gloved finger to the fear-filled robot.

“Yeah? You think that's a good idea, do ya?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest before looking at you. “Blink twice if this brute is holding you hostage, honey. Though by the looks of ya, I’d say you can handle your own.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologized on Din’s behalf before you introduced yourself and stepped in front of him. “We just need some repairs.”

“The name’s Peli,” she returned the politeness and shook your hand with strong, jerky movements. “He always this grumpy?” she nodded at the bounty hunter.

“Actually you caught him on a good day,” you smiled and she chuckled. Din sighed.

“Alright, well, let's look at your ship.” She picked up a clipboard and walked over to the crest. Looking it up and down slowly, she made a fist and knocked twice on the main hull and listened to the klonk that came from the inside.

“Is it bad?” you asked.  

“Oof…” she winced as she wrote some things down. “Look at that.” She looked over her shoulder at you before gesturing to the sides of the ship. “Bad? You got a lot of carbon scoring building up top. Ya know--If I didn't know better, I'd think you were in a shootout.”

“Well…” you started and Din cleared his throat.

“Can you fix it?”

“Special tool for that one. Oh ya, I'm gonna have to rotate that…” She mumbled. Peli ignored you both as she continued to poke and prod the undercarriage of the ship before pulling down a side panel and coughing at the smoke that it produced. “You got a fuel leak! Look at that, this is a mess! How did you even land? That's gonna set you back.”

Din looked down at her as she walked back up to him and he tossed over a coin purse that jingled when she caught it. “I've got 500 Imperial Credits.”

“That all you got? Well…” she weighed the money in her hand and worried her bottom lip between her teeth. She turned to the droids who were slowly approaching again now that she was there to protect them. “What do you guys think? I mean-- that should at least cover the hangar.”

“I'll get you your money,” Din reassured her.

“Ha! I've heard that before,” she rolled her eyes.

“I promise, we’ll pay you somehow,” you interjected and Peli looked you over again before waggling her finger at you. 

“Now, you I believe.” 

That made you smile and she returned it. 

“Just remember--” Din started.

“Yeah. Yeah. No droids. I heard ya.” She stuffed the credits in her pocket. “You don't have to say it twice. Jeez. Womp rat.” She mumbled the last under her breath as the two of you took her dismissal as a sign you were free to leave. 

You waited until you and Din were out of earshot before you glared at him in disappointment. “We have got to work on your people skills.”

--

Note: When imagining the headpiece Din had made for you, I was drawing heavy inspiration off of Queen Hippolyta’s crown. Something that keeps your hair out of the way, looks futuristic and strong. 

Hey guys, as always there is always room on the tag lists! That being said there are about 300+ of you that want to be tagged in this fic and that is totally cool, but I am human and I miss names and forget tags, SO–if your tag didn’t work, I forgot it, or you want to be moved to another group, please message me or send me an ask. Even if you have already sent me one reminding me, I PROMISE it was not on purpose. A lot of times I wont answer until I have PHYSICALLY put you on the tag list that way I don’t forget! Thank you so much. - K

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#the mandalorian #the mandolorian x reader #mando x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #star wars fic #pedro character fic #pedro pascal x Reader #OCAC

[vidalinav]

Life’s a Beach (1)

I underestimated how long this fic was, so I smashed them together. I will continue just posting snippets and writing it like that (and then smashing them together), but since most of you will already have read it, I will include a bonus scene at the end. My thank you for putting up with my unconventional writing process. 

Summary: Tarquin comes to town and Cassian is jealous. 

~

Cassian doesn’t like when Tarquin visits.  

Never mind the ban from the Summer Court or that at one point, blood rubies pilfer their court. Never mind that Summer crowns him holier than the seas and the sun. Cassian doesn’t like the ease in which he walks. He may not have his usual royal garb, but he glides along the Sidra. The mighty king out for a stroll.  

Nesta looks like his queen.  

His mate is bright and beaming, huffing laughs and smiling wide as she praises his ideas. Cassian has ideas, too.  

But Nesta isn’t interested in his ideas as he follows them around. Nesta just continues smiling. Her skin glows with the sun, the apples of her cheeks turning a pretty shade of apricot as Tarquin notes the dying rays. Are you a poet Tarquin? Cassian wants to ask, but knowing the High Lord, he just might be and Nesta fucking loves poetry.  

Her cheeks remain pink and Cassian resists grabbing her hand and dragging her back to the house. You’ll die of heatstroke; he might say if she protests. But no.  

He won’t.  

He promises to be on his best behavior.  

Even so, Cassian can’t help eyeing buildings as they pass. Just break one, he urges. One and we can ban you from the Night Court. But that might mean, Nesta spending some time in Summer, with her good friend Tarquin, who makes Nesta beam like that, make her cheeks red like that.  

All Cassian sees is red.

All Nesta looks at is Tarquin.  

“You know, I never thought someone as young as you would be so conniving.”

Conniving? Cassian isn’t paying attention, but at the word, he’s ready to deem it insulting enough to fight Tarquin if Nesta so much as gives him a look. But Nesta only listens as Tarquin speaks. Cassian can’t even read her expression. It’s blank as she stares.  

“I admire that quality,” The little high lord says.  

Admire someone else, buddy.  

Nesta only snorts, the words making her laugh.  

The light plays with her eyes as she smirks. They look bluer today. Less silver. Cassian has to think that it has something to do with Tarquin. Tarquin who brings out the blue in Nesta’s eyes, who brings pink to her cheeks. Never mind that it probably has more to do with how bright it is today.  

“You’re too smart,” he remarks, and Cassian wants to roll his eyes. Nesta is too smart, too smart to be hanging around with some pompous flatterer. “No wonder you’re good at this game.”  

“What game?” She asks, lightly, but even Cassian can hear the caution. Her voice slowing as if coaxing an answer from his lips.  

“The game we all play. These situations that have us playing with life whether we want to or not.” Nesta lilts her head curiously, waiting for further explanation and Cassian waits too, because he’s not sure he understands. Tarquin looks like he’d rather not speak of it, but he continues even so.  

“Fae are good at games–invented them really. Court politics, morality, marriage, and bargains. I have to believe you’re good at them. Not just because I’ve seen you, but because I know what Eris offered as soon as he had you in his arms… It’s always the smart ones who win these games–the most clever.”  

Nesta rolls her eyes as if his words offer no great importance, “It’s never the smart ones who win.” She counters. “Not the ones who are strongest or the most magically gifted or the one who smiles the sweetest while she glides across the floor. There is no game that you can win by being the most beautiful person in the room… No game I’d want to play anyways.”  

“Then who does win?” He urges. Tarquin almost sounds desperate for the answer, and Cassian has to wonder if Nesta has woven a spell around him too just as much as Eris.  

“Whoever’s luckiest,” Nesta shrugs simply, “So there’s no point in trying so hard… We all end up in the exact place we were always supposed to be in.”    

She doesn’t sound happy about that either, and something about the tone makes Cassian want to hold her close. Make her remember that it’s a joy to be here. To be together, even if it is with another male who skin beams with the summer sun.

I’m lucky to have you. 

He hopes she knows.  

“Then you’re lucky,” Tarquin notes, “And blessed. You’re blessed and lucky. Smart and clever.” He laughs as if brushing the seriousness off, “Is that why you’re so good at cards? Azriel was moping last night. I thought that had something to do with you.”  

Nesta lifts a casual shoulder, a soft smile playing on her lips. Cassian thinks even that is a play–some move she knows will help her counter his attack. “Azriel loses because he wants to win and it’s easy to win against someone who’s already shown their cards.”  

“Motivations are everything.”  

“Yes,” Nesta nods frankly, “so why are you here?”  

Cassian wants to know, too.  

Actually, Cassian wants to push him into the Sidra and see if pretty fishman can float, but he’ll take Nesta’s verbal spar in any case. If he runs back to the House with his tail between his legs, Cassian will consider it a win for the both of them. His lovely strategist.

But Tarquin doesn’t run. Cassian doesn’t think Tarquin will ever run from Nesta and that simple fact makes him furious. That there is another male in this world who will see Nesta and not balk, who will know Nesta and not grimace.  

Cassian is not the only male who stays. Not for the power or the beauty or the poise, but because underneath all of that is a female who can conquer as much as she can tame. Whose voice sounds like the sea, whose eyes are crystal clear waters, whose mind rages against the tide.  

Tarquin breathes in ocean air.  

Every morning, he fishes on the coast. Every evening, he sleeps to the humming sea. Who would know Nesta better than someone who dreams of waves?  

So, it doesn’t come as any surprise when Tarquin looks to him, as she asks her question. Why are you here?  

“Because I want to know you.”  

A fool’s choice.  

“I’m not foolish enough to claim you,” He adds, “and I’m not foolish enough to think you’ll ever be claimed, even if you have a mate. No offense, Cassian.”

Offense taken.  

“I’m not even foolish enough to think I can even begin to know who you are or what you’ve been through… But when you looked at me that day in the Summer Court, and asked me to help your family, offered me anything that you could give me alone.”  

What? Cassian looks to Nesta, but she promptly ignores him, staring at Pompous Prince Tarquin.  

“I’d never seen anyone want so badly. I wanted to know what that felt like. Know what stirred so deeply in your heart that you looked at me like you’d give me the entire world for just one yes.”  

Tarquin raises a shoulder and Cassian tries not to swallow so loudly. He thinks he might have to shove a fist down his throat to stop his screaming, “You’re a question I keep mulling over and I’ve yet to figure out what the answer is. I don’t even know if I could know the answer if it stared me in the eyes, but I would like to learn. To feel half of what you feel, to learn how to love so truly.”

~

Cassian replays her answer as he sleeps. He goes over it and over it and over it again. At some point, he wakes her up in the middle of the night, shaking her shoulder.  

“Nesta,” he whispers, “Nesta? What did you mean?”

His mate only groans, her brows furrowing, as she burrows further into blankets. Cassian knows he’s playing in dangerous territory, but he can’t stop thinking about. It’s driving him insane.  

“Nesta, what did you mean?”  

He says it once louder, shaking her again. Nesta only juts out her elbow, hitting him in the rib. Cassian holds in the heavy moan as he clutches his chest, and Nesta settles in her sleep.  

Still, Cassian can’t give up now. “When you told Tarquin you’d think about it, what did you mean? Nesta?”  

Cassian grasps her shoulder, shaking her lightly, “Nesta!”  

“What?” Nesta yells, leaning up so fast, she almost hits her head on his chin. “What do you keep yelling about? I’m trying to sleep!”  

Even furious and half-asleep, she looks beautiful. The strap of her nightgown slips down one shoulder, and he trails the movement as if his own fingers push it down. Nesta crosses her arms, and he swallows down the want. Not an appropriate time, Cassian.  

She raises a brow, “Well?”  

“I wanted to talk,” he says simply.  

Nesta looks to the clock on the wall, glaring at him exasperated. “At two in the morning?”  

“Good a time as any.”  

She looks mad that much is true, and Cassian wishes to appease.  

His mate is tired, so he’ll fluff her pillows, rub her shoulders while she relaxes enough to tell him exactly what she means when she tells Tarquin she’ll think about it. As if his I want to get to know you is an offer she can’t refuse.  

But as he fluffs her pillows, Cassian can only think of Tarquin.  

He would have waited to speak to her, prioritizing Nesta’s health over his wants. Just this morning… or yesterday morning, the High Lord of Summer makes sure to ask Nesta if she’s eaten as she reads her book on the couch–a fact he finds rude to say the least–and when she says no, he offers to make breakfast for her. Oh, so generous of him. Never mind that they have a House who cooks their meals.  

Cassian scoffs as he thinks about it. What High Lord plays chef? And who is he to ask if Nesta’s eaten as if his mate isn’t being taken care of?  

He yanks at the pillow, beats at it, punches it. He can’t help but imagine Tarquin’s face. He can see feathers jutting from the cushion, and still he hits. The cloth lays in the cinders on the bed before he stops.  

Nesta sighs at the mess, grabbing one of the pillows from his side, clasping it to her head.  

“What are you doing?” Cassian asks.  

“Hoping I suffocate enough to pass out.”

Her voice is muffled, and he grasps at the pillow. Her hair is a ruffled mess. It splays out on the pillow in waves. Cassian can’t help but breathe at the sight of her and the sound is a sigh of relief.  

She’s his… Or as much as Nesta can be his.  

She chose him.  

Nesta with her matted hair, the side of her cheek pink from where she pushes up against the pillow, her silver nightgown making her skin glow in the light of the moon, chooses him.  

Shouldn’t that be enough?  

Cassian rubs at his face, feeling all too shameful. “I’m sorry. I just–” He takes in their bed, feathers littering the duvet. Suddenly, he feels like a little kid. What was he doing beating a pillow like that? Waking Nesta in the middle of the night? 

“You’re jealous,” Nesta says.  

Her voice echoes in the room, and Cassian frowns at the words. Of course, he’s jealous. That much is obvious. He’s always jealous.  

Nesta is beautiful and powerful and smiles like she grants the sun its light, and males flock to her like moths. Not just any males either but stupid princes and arrogant High Lords and stupid, arrogant Tarquin!

Nesta only grabs at the pillow in his hands, setting it under her head as she closes her eyes. He waits for her to speak, but he can only hear the ticking of the clock, on and on as time passes.  

Nesta doesn’t say a thing.  

“That’s it? That’s all you have to say. You’re jealous and you go back to sleep.”  

The pretty pink of her lips purse, but she doesn’t even open her eyes as she says, “If you were looking for comfort, you shouldn’t have woken me up at two in the morning.”  

Well… damn.  

Cassian settles back at his side, crossing his arms as he stares at the ceiling. He’s one less pillow down, but that doesn’t bother him much. It’s the thoughts that don’t quiet even for a second. Stupid mating bond.  

That thought though has him looking to Nesta. No, he loves that mating bond. He loves her. And even if Tarquin wants to impede himself like a wall between them, Cassian will still love Nesta Archeron.  

He closes his eyes repeating those words as if they’re a lullaby that will let him drift off to sleep. I love Nesta Archeron. I love Nesta Archeron. I love Nesta Archeron.  

The words don’t comfort him even a little.  

But Nesta sets her head on his chest. She tucks herself in to the crook of his arm and Cassian squeezes gently–he tries not to hold on too tight.  

She must sense his surprise. Whether that be from the bond or because Nesta knows him like that back of her hand, he doesn’t know. But she blinks one eye open, looking at him with bright grey and all his fears are assuaged.

“You should hold me since you woke me up.”

Cassian can only blink, nodding his head as she wraps his arms around her, and he settles in. He can hear her heart beating and he can hear her soft breathing and Cassian can go to sleep to this. He can.  

Cassian will hold her until she tells him let go. Cassian will not let go.  

Still… he can’t help it.  

“I bet Tarquin can’t hold you like this.”  

Cassian only gets mouth full of feathers.

~

Tarquin tells Rhys that he’s going to stay for two weeks. During this time, they’ll talk of treaties, draw up some plan of trade, some easy comings and goings of Night Court and Summer Court residences. Cassian tells Rhys that they don’t need a treaty. Throw him out now, he thinks.  

“Is something going on with you?” Rhys asks, leaning back in his chair, ever the High Lord. Cassian is starting to hate High Lords.  

Cassian crosses his arms, grinding his teeth. He’s in the sitting room in the estate. Amren solves a puzzle as if nothing about this meeting is important at all. Mor talks to Feyre by the dining room, gossiping rather than listening to Rhys moan about Tarquin and peace treaties. Nesta, not that she goes to these meetings, is out doing gods know what with Tarquin who wants to view the city.  

Take me to all your favorite places, he says. Cassian rolls his eyes just thinking about the way Nesta’s light up. Bookstores and restaurants and museums. She knows them all. Nesta goes with him, first. Why does Tarquin care? Is he planning on buying a winter house in Velaris?  

Cassian’s blood runs cold at the thought.  

“He’s jealous,” Azriel says, throwing a scroll at Rhys which he easily catches.  

Mor’s head jerks up at the word, even Feyre smirks with interest.  

“No,” Cassian dismisses, but he’s never been a good liar. His voice pitches high and Rhys eyes him with humor, “I… just think that we don’t need Summer Court resources, when we have an abundance of them already.”  

“You’re also banned,” Amren comments helpfully, “I would say that makes you the most biased towards these dealings.”  

“Your boyfriend is from the Summer Court; wouldn’t that make you the most biased?” Mor asks. Amren simply shrugs.  

“I mean have we considered that. That male banned me and now we’re opening our borders?”  

“Our borders have always been open,” Feyre says, not so helpfully. The look she gives him has him sinking in his seat. “Also, you wrecked the central magistrate.” 

“They’ve rebuilt it,” Cassian argues.  

“You mates are all the same,” Amren groans loudly, “She’s not going to fuck Tarquin.”  

“Shut up Amren!”

“That’s the best you can do? I’m sure Tarquin’s more eloquent.”

“Amren,” Feyre says, giving her that motherly reprimanding look. An expression that Cassian supposes comes with the motherhood package.  

It does the trick.

Amren sneers, but she settles back where she sits on the floor, picking at her puzzle. Cassian has the sudden urge to knock the pieces off the table, just for the comment alone.

“Nesta loves you, Cassian,” Feyre says, her voice light and calming. Too bad it doesn’t calm him, and he doesn’t want to talk about this now even if she goads. “What’s there to be jealous of?”  

Cassian already knows this answer. He knows this answer this morning, the other night, the minute summer enters Velaris spring. It’s not that Nesta loves him. Cassian knows Nesta loves him. It’s that he lets his guard down. He forgets the most crucial information of all–

Nesta is easily lovable.  

Sure, she might give a sneer or two at someone who annoys her well enough or beat the living daylights out of someone who threatens those she loves, but Nesta is an easily lovable dork.

She laughs at stupid things and it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. She’s a goofball! He swears she knows every book in that library. She absorbs information like a sponge, will rant for hours about everything she learns. Her thoughtfulness knows no bounds. They’ll be off at the market and if she sees something that looks like Gwyn or Emerie or himself or whoever, she has to have it. She has to give it to them. They go to get cinnamon buns and she orders enough for the priestesses. She remembers everyone’s birthday. She learns the name of every patron and their families and their language and their holidays. It’s not hard to love Nesta.  

Who would not love Nesta?  

So yes, he has something to be jealous of.  

“You look stressed,” Mor notes, her eyebrows raising.  

Amren nods, “You look like you’re going to fight someone.”  

“Or puke,” Azriel adds.  

“Just don’t fight Tarquin,” Rhys concludes, “I can’t ban you from the court, but I can certainly make sure you’re away in Illyria while he’s here.”  

“You guys are really supportive, you know that?”

“Well at least we’re not trying to steal you’re girl,” Mor teases.  

“Yet.”  

Cassian gives her a glare, but she only laughs a bright sound.  

“I’ve never seen you jealous,” she says.

“I’m not jealous.”  

Azriel raises a pointed finger, “what about that one time you threw that rock at that window?”  

“Or when you broke that male’s nose,” Rhys suggests.  

Amren rolls her eyes, setting down a piece of her puzzle, “How about the last time we all went to a bar.”  

Mor, Azriel, and Rhys look to each other, contemplating the words. Cassian watches as they nod their heads slowly.  

“Oh yeah.”

“You’re right.”  

“You were jealous then, too.”  

“I was not jealous,” Cassian insists.  

Thankfully, Feyre–sweet Feyre offers him relief. She raises her hands, and Cassian thinks he’s glad to have such a loyal sister-in-law. “Guys, he was not jealous.”  

Thank you, Feyre.  

“He was territorial.”  

The others voice their agreement before Cassian has a chance to speak–to defend himself from this defamation of character.

Not that he can defend himself.  

He remembers that day all too well…

It’s the first Nesta goes to a bar with them. The first time she goes to a bar in a while, and she’s nervous. But she looks beautiful. So damn beautiful that he thinks he might suggest staying in. She has on a black dress with these tiny straps and a necklace that makes him want to trace her neck with his tongue until she’s mewling and soft and pliant. But she’s nervous, so he only kisses her forehead.  

We don’t have to drink he says. I won’t drink either, he promises.  

Cassian turns out to be a bold-faced liar.  

He’s drunk by the time the first band plays. He keeps gobbling down the drinks. Nesta gets them for free. Martinis, vodka sodas, gin, and whiskey. All manners of shots. Every alcohol keeps floating her way. The males seem to think they only need to find the right one. The one Nesta prefers and they take it as a challenge. He remembers asking if she even needed their money all those months ago, and she only shrugs a shoulder. Haughty and much, much too beautiful.  

Nesta offers to send them back, but Cassian gulps them down one by one before she can even call over the waitress. I can take it, he says.  

Once again, Cassian is made a liar.  

They have to carry him out of that bar. At some point, he remembers flying over the city as Rhys and Azriel chase him through the streets.  

The only way they get him down is by Nesta calling for him. An easy trick, he thinks. If they asked him, they should have tried that first. Of course, he answers his mate when she calls.  

When he meets her, crawling back with his wings drooping to the concrete, Nesta only opens her arms as if she wants him to hug her. Cassian hugs her. He… climbs on top of her, really.  

But she combs her fingers through his hair and Cassian hunches over to lay his head on her shoulder and the next thing he knows… he’s lying in bed, a glass of water and some headache powder on the side table.  

She’d hit that nerve in his neck.  

Cassian wants to scoff just thinking about it.  

“Where is Nesta anyway?”  

The question has Cassian grinding his teeth, he can hear the noise in his ears. With fucking Tarquin.  

“She’s out,” he says instead.  

“Out where?”  

“Out to museums,” He lists thinking of all the places Nesta enjoys. “Or picnics.” All the places that Nesta will smile at. “Or restaurants.” All places Nesta will bubble up with laughter, that she’ll blush with glee, that she’ll gaze at wistfully with that bastard Tarquin. “Or maybe romantic boat rides. The one in that fucking swan.”  

Cassian doesn’t even know he grabs on to the throw pillow, but the next thing he knows the cushion is torn in half and the stuffing falls out like billowing snow.  

The others look at him strangely, but it’s Feyre who takes a cautious step towards him, taking the pillow from his hands.  

“And when will they be done?”  

Cassian rolls his eyes, looking to the clock. “I meet them in a half an hour. We’re getting lunch,” he mocks in a voice that doesn’t sound anything like the High Lord of Summer.  

Feyre hums in answer, her eyes widening innocently. Cassian stares in suspicion.  

He watches as the others look to each other, too. Azriel to Mor. Mor to Rhys. Rhys to Feyre. Feyre to Amren. And then all of them look back to him.  

It’s Mor who bounces brightly, “I want to go!”  

“I’m going, too,” Rhys announces.  

Feyre crosses her arms, “You can’t go. I’m going! Someone has to watch the baby.”  

“Let Nuala and Cerridwen watch the baby! I’m supporting my brother.”  

“I’m supporting my sister!”  

“Oh, for cauldron’s sake,” Amren groans, “just bring the boy!”  

Cassian frowns as they start packing up around him, yelling at each other for their coats and… baby carriers.  

Amren only pauses to laugh at the look on his face.  

“It could be worse, you know,” She says, her voice something she probably thinks sounds soft and comforting, “Tarquin could have already made some move. What do males say these days? Oh right, I want to get to know you or something equally as vomit inducing.”  

Cassian simply picks up the throw pillow to his left and screams.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

BONUS SCENE 1: 

The evening of their first outing, Cassian can’t button his shirt. He should've taken that as his first sign that things would inevitably go wrong. 

“Are the buttons winning?” Nesta asks lightly. Cassian huffs a curse, hiking the shirt over his head. It gets stuck around his neck and he groans out a response.

Fine, he thinks. I give up. 

Nesta laughs at his slumping shoulders. 

“It’s the wings,” He says, muffled through the cloth. His wings drift up and down as if huffing themselves, showing her that they too are thoroughly annoyed. “This shirt isn’t made for Illyrians.” 

That’s a lie, but Nesta only hums. 

“Well... as much as I like you topless and I do like you topless.” Cassian can feel her hands trailing up his ribs and he squirms at the ticklish touch. “I don’t think it would be appropriate for public outings.” 

“You mean you’d be jealous,” He breaths. Nesta pulls the shirt down, unbuttoning and buttoning it again. His mate makes it seem far too easy, and she smirks up at him when the shirt is fully on. Her lips painted in red. 

The fresh air is cool in his lungs without the noose of dress ware, and he winds his arms around her, breathing in her scent. “All those females looking. Males too. What would you do if they propositioned me?” He urges, holding her closer, bringing her hips to his. “Cassian, Cassian, take me in your arms.”

He dips her low as if they’ve finished some waltz, and lifts her high until her leg is around his waist. That’s when he notices the slit in her gown, running all the way up her thigh. 

“They’ll chase me through the streets, you know. I’m a very hot commodity.” 

Nesta doesn’t even laugh. In fact, she merely lifts her eyes, her expression blank in that very Nesta way of hers.  

She fingers the collar of his shirt and Cassian can’t help but follow her hands. He thinks of every place those fingers can touch. “You wouldn’t be so difficult to catch. All it’d take is some buttons.” 

Cassian roars with laughter and Nesta smiles at that. A small turn of her lips. 

She turns back to the vanity, though he can’t say she’s not already perfect. He’s about to say so too, but that’s when he notices the dress. 

It’s hugs her every curve... the way Cassian only wishes to hug her. The black brings out the gold in her hair, in her sun-kissed skin. There’s a slit, Cassian knows, and tiny, tiny straps. 

Cassian moves towards her without a second thought. How anyone can think when they look at Nesta Archeron, he doesn’t know. He grasps her arms, dipping his head low. He places a reverent kiss on her shoulder and Nesta looks at him through the mirror, blinking up at him with those big, magnificent eyes. 

They’ve never fucked in front of mirror before.  

Cassian makes a note. 

“You know, we can always skip this... thing. Who would even notice if we're gone?” 

“Considering it’s for us, I’d say plenty.” 

She says the words with enough disdain that Cassian frowns at the tone. She  looks away as he catches her eyes.

“Do you not want to go?” He asks, dropping his hands. 

“I want to get this night over with,” she says, with a certain bite that has him backtracking. He runs over the day and all things she can be mad at him for, but he finds nothing, so he doesn’t understand.  

The night is for them. 

To celebrate her more than anyone. There’s been so many celebrations for her these past months as if they’re making up for lost time. Cassian doesn’t mind. Nesta should be celebrated. And Nesta doesn’t seem to mind, though she’s rather quiet during those outings. 

That’s not unusual. 

He used to think Azriel was the most introverted of them all. But Nesta beats him by miles. 

“Why--”

“I just don’t like that we always have these. Why can’t everyone just leave us alone?” 

Cassian stares at her reddening skin. The way her eyes dart back and forth, trying not to look to him. His frown deepens at the way she hides. 

He thought they were past this. 

Cassian is the first person to admit that he doesn’t know Nesta. Not in the way he wants to and Nesta seldom tells him much. But he at least knows her well enough to know that when she gets upset, it’s rarely what she says it is.

So Cassian takes inventory. 

They’re going to a get-together. They’ve done that before. They’re wearing formal clothes. They’ve done that before. They’re meeting the same people. Yes, that’s correct. The only thing that’s different is... the location? 

“You have a problem with the restaurant,” he guesses. 

Nesta merely lies her chin on her palm. 

“It’s new... they have good food... so I hear. It’s got great music, which you like. It’s got a bar,” Cassian’s gaze whips to her, “Is it the bar?” 

Nesta rolls her eyes, but he can see the way her cheeks flush a bright pink. The color softens something inside of him, makes him want to hug her and hold her and get rid of every bad thought in her head. 

The bar. Of course. He sees the way she cringes at alcohol, the way she shifts in her seat when a dinner turns into an after party. She doesn’t even like most of their holidays for that reason, because they all get drunk and she sits in the corner not knowing what to do. Nesta hates being embarrassed.

She can drink if she wants, he tells her, it’s her choice. They won’t judge her for it, he affirms, but... Cassian can’t guarantee that and Nesta knows that’s a lie. Nesta doesn’t even touch liquor. 

Cassian feels his chest start to sink and he must show it on his face, because she scoffs. 

It’s bad enough she doesn’t want to go to the city most days. She’s told him it’s because she’s scared to face who she was, afraid that she’ll be back there soon enough. Cassian can’t reassure her well enough. We can face it together, he says. We can face it all. But it’s been baby steps and these outings are the only times she pushes her limits. 

Cassian shifts her around, laying his hands on her cheeks, rubbing at the heated skin. “We don’t have to go if you don’t want.” 

“I don’t want to be a coward.” 

Cassian shakes his head, “you’re not going to be one if you go and you’re not going to be one if you stay.” 

Nesta sighs, and Cassian kisses her forehead because he doesn’t know what else to do. He doesn’t know how to instill in Nesta that she’s the strongest, bravest person he knows. How does he convince her of a truth that’s so obvious?  

She isn’t going to change her mind that much he knows, but damn him if he let’s her wallow alone.  

“I won’t drink,” He offers, “We can play cards, dance a little... I promise I’ll try not to step on your toes again.” 

“I want you to enjoy yourself,” She says, her lips pouting in that way that makes him want to kiss her nose and her cheek and every place that he can touch. “To have fun.” 

“You are fun and I enjoy myself plenty with you.” 

Little does Cassian know that the enjoyment of the night is him knocking back barrels of drinks, stripping to his underwear, and running head first through the streets. 

To be continued... 

~

LOL. This fic is insane. Because not only do you get snippets before you get the final chapter, you get snippets in the final chapters. Snip-ception. 

~

Tagged:  @my-fan-side, @sophilightwood, @nestaarcher0n, @duskandstarlight, @soitsgorgeous, @ekaterinakostrova @swankii-art-teacher, @lordof-bloodshed, @arinbelle, @thewhelk, @daisy-in-danger, @highqueenevankhell, @lovelynesta, @sirendeepity, @champanheandluxxury, @ladynestaarcheron, @moodymelanist, @teagoddess99, @spoilersteph, @angelicvoice19, @bo0kmaster69, @drielecarla, @generalnesta

I think that’s it. Also know that if you asked to be tagged on snippets, I am going to tag you MANY TIME throughout the day... so be cautious about that. 

#Life's a Beach #my generic a** title #whatever I had to move on from it #nessian #nessian fanfiction #cassian #vidalinav writes #vidalinav #Nesta archeron #Tarquin #my Tarquin fic

[bkdkology]

A Katsuki Meta

Howdy, I am back on my shit again after Atsushi’s twitter post of Horikoshi’s drafts made me cry for two hours and sleep for three.

Let’s get to it!

While there is obvious symbolism in this draft of Katsuki letting go of his past self, you have to appreciate just how much planning has been dedicated to this series, and how Horikoshi has managed to take a character that could’ve strictly followed a checklist of stereotypes for a hot headed, short tempered deuteragonist and build him to become just as complex and important as the protagonist.

He kept true to the promise he made when the chapter releases were still in the single digits:

Katsuki’s character is one of the easiest to mishandle. He was introduced as a bully, and maintained an explosively vile personality throughout a good chunk of the series. His most obvious traits are the marks of a FOIL to Deku, and he could have well stayed that way and still ended up becoming a good pro, with the usual AHA moment that a deuteragonist like him experiences: a moment where he learns that power isn’t everything.

Except he didn’t have a moment, he had several. He was kidnapped, tossed around, ripped to shreds, challenged, loved, trusted, admired, understood and practically reborn. The fact that he’s managed to stay true to himself after everything means he always had the makings of a great hero in him.

I wouldn’t say I’m a person who’s particularly capable of insane and correct deep level thinking, and on top of that I’m INCREDIBLY EASY to impress. For me it’s like:

You know how Earth needed to be at the exact distance it is from the sun and have the perfect atmosphere to create life? Katsuki’s story is much like that.

If anyone else but Deku had been telling the story, if Deku hadn’t been as persistent, strong willed, and caring as he is, and if everything that happened to Katsuki didn’t happen in the exact order and manner it did, he wouldn’t have been as great as he is now. And while that’s simple enough to say, it’s truly such a beautiful thing to bear witness to.

We’re 300 chapters and nearly 6 years into MHA and we’ve seen.

Katsuki go from refusing to work with others to becoming a great team leader.

His focus has always been on one thing: victory. In almost every situation, he’s had his eye on the win. It wasn’t always the case when Deku was involved, because Deku was so different from him in a way that made him feel threatened. And it’s something that has most likely been on his mind for a long time.

He’s become more comfortable with his vision since his fight with Deku, and it was probably liberating in an emotional sense too. His fight with Deku didn’t just realign and solidify his own views on life, but made him more accepting of himself and absolved him of some of his heaviest insecurities.

Katsuki letting go of his superiority complex to better himself.

In the days leading up to his fight with Deku, he was also fighting an internal battle for “being the reason behind All Might’s end.”

I wouldn’t argue that he was feeling guilty. While it was surely part of it, it shouldn’t be minimized to only guilt. The expressions on his face throughout the fight were incredible, he was angry, frustrated, confused, scared, quite clearly as he claimed, he just didn’t know what the hell he should do, so he fought.

By the time he interned at Endeavor’s agency, he was already well aware that he had faults, which is a huge step for him, and he was beginning the process of pinpointing those faults.

His unwillingness to work with Deku dissolves

After reaching a certain point in the manga, it’s become hard for me to imagine a time when Katsuki full on rejected Deku. In the first few volumes Katsuki got worse before he got better. He was in a comfortable position bullying Deku in middle school, but when he started to experience failure, when he witnessed Deku becoming stronger at a faster rate than him, he couldn’t even enjoy the fact that he was going to school where his favorite role model was teaching.

Now, after everything, Katsuki was opening up to Deku. They started training together to help Deku gain control of OFA. And not just that, Katsuki was invested in the long term. While he shared the secret of OFA with Deku long before anyone else found out about it, he later started to shoulder some of the weight too, and he was good at it.

He called small might out for keeping secrets from Deku, claiming Deku trusted him with his life, but he wasn’t as easily convinced, pointing out a detail in the descriptions of the past users that might’ve gone over Deku’s head. He’s always been brilliant, but now he’s using that brilliance to actively try to become involved with Deku’s burden.

He’s changed in obvious ways, but in subtle ones too.

After so much time, this panel is still really hard to look at. If you’ve ever suffered at the hands of bullies, you probably feel like there’s little satisfaction in their story even though so much has changed between them, there’s still a long way to go, there’s still a huge piece missing. Deku is way too forgiving, I don’t think he ever held anything against Katsuki for the way he treated him in the past. Katsuki is still hard with words, since the last time he bullied Deku, he has never said anything he doesn’t mean.

Katsuki has never been the type to lie. He doesn’t beat around the bush, he doesn’t pretend to be somebody he’s not, and while that part of him hasn’t changed, the way in which he delivers has. His heart has changed, and while I don’t recall a moment where he hasn’t been able to live up to his big claims, his confidence has changed from being used to mask his insecurity, to a healthier confidence that can lead, support, protect, and save.

To think that this moment is the moment that solidified Katsuki’s path to greatness, the fact that his capabilities and brilliance have always made his future bright, he’s gone above and beyond his own expectations of the world and how it works. In the world of scientific journals, there is always a gap in the knowledge of the scientific community, a gap in the understanding of how the world works. When you find that gap, something incredible happens.

He let go of the past. Katsuki, who envisioned a life where he made it big because he knew he could. Katsuki, who was always self driven. Katsuki, who loves the taste of victory. Katsuki, who categorized the world and people around him in terms of power. Katsuki, who believed only the powerful could become strong.

Deku was the one thing in his life that didn’t fit in his picture of the world. To him, his understanding of how the world worked was defined by the strong, the weak, the good and the bad. He couldn’t understand how empathy and vulnerability could make someone strong.

I’m really excited to see where Katsuki goes from here. There’s still so much for him to discover, and he’s so, so close to the end stage of his metamorphosis.

#bakugou katsuki #bkdk #bakudeku #katsuki bakugou #ktdk #katsudeku #my hero academia #mha #bnha #boku no hero academia #Katsuki meta #kacchan

[edenmemes]

assassin’s creed valhalla starters

words within ‘()’ are additional, optional choices! more maybe to be added at a later date. some n/sfw present. 

❝ you should see the other man. he got the worst of it. ❞   ❝ and who better to lead us to glory than me? ❞ ❝ i am most at home helping others. ❞       ❝ i’ve waited long enough for you, and you for me. ❞   ❝ thank you for not saying anything about my past. ❞       ❝ know that however far away, you’re always in my thoughts. ❞   ❝ when you see your god, tell them i sent you. ❞   ❝ what you make up in muscles, you’re lacking in spine. ❞   ❝ i almost envy you, to see the world through such a muddy glass and live with such petty concerns. ❞   ❝ i smell the stink of a dozen kingdoms in your beard. ❞   ❝ this feud is not yours, yet you fight it all the same. i find that strange. ❞   ❝ by the look on your face, you have lost your will to live. ❞   ❝ my arms are numb from battle. does it need any dressing?    do you think it is a serious wound? ❞   ❝ oh dear. this is not how i foresaw things. not at all! ❞   ❝ should we take this to your chamber? ❞   ❝ i want this. i want you. ❞   ❝ turn around, walk away, and you keep your insides inside. ❞   ❝ stay back! back! i will fight you! ❞   ❝ you look like reddened shit. what happened? ❞   ❝ i have always wanted to experience the world as you do. ❞   ❝ you come like a valkyrie out of a fog. but i have no dead to give you. ❞   ❝ all right, stay close and do as i do. ❞   ❝ home. or...it was home, once. now it is nothing but bone. ❞   ❝ i’ll have no qualms wiping clean your grin. ❞   ❝ just take care. such hatred can make you careless. ❞   ❝ away from your table for a day and you are already lusting for blood. ❞   ❝ if i did not know any better, i would say you are teasing me. ❞   ❝ the dream of new lands is a powerful lure. ❞   ❝ i love climbing up here. makes me feel as high as a raven. ❞   ❝ if i don’t find your horse, i will steal you a new one. ❞   ❝ i feel somewhat trapped. in this room, in this settlement, in this life. ❞   ❝ you are lost in a sea-storm of your own making. ❞   ❝ the poet in you sings once again. ❞   ❝ tonight, we will eat and drink like gods and wake in a kingdom made new. ❞   ❝ i wish i understood you better. for those i do not understand, i do not trust. (and i cannot stomach a lack of trust.) ❞ ❝ i’ve been called worse. ❞   ❝ you have nothing to fear from me. i bear you no ill will. ❞   ❝ you are a shadow of your father. weak and witless. ❞   ❝ what is this? is this...are we in hell? ❞   ❝ keep company with kings and you will soon have a crown of your own. ❞   ❝ a toothless cub may grow to be a dangerous wolf. ❞   ❝ you are far too young to speak so wise. ❞   ❝ i need clear, sound judgement. i need you. ❞   ❝ kind and courageous people live the best lives, but it can be a difficult path to keep. ❞ ❝ i want to say...i love you. and i have for some time. ❞ ❝ you smell that? the stink of jealousy. (of our budding friendship, i think). ❞   ❝ ah, while i have you, i’m reminded...i have this for you. ❞   ❝ your lies are just like you. big and bold. ❞   ❝ don’t excuse yourself. you enjoy this too much. ❞   ❝ you've come back. why are you wasting your time with me? ❞   ❝ care to sing a song? helps me pass the time. ❞   ❝ that is twice you have earned my admiration. ❞   ❝ you have only the setting sun to tell you when to stop. ❞   ❝ i want to know what you know. name your price. ❞   ❝ people like you deserve something worse than death. ❞   ❝ they called me a lout, a disgrace. they were right. ❞   ❝ i will have to get used to watching the sights of war from afar now. ❞   ❝ there’s no other way. fight or hide. it’s up to you. ❞   ❝ do not think me a coward. i am not afraid of war. ❞   ❝ friendships end. often at the point of a spear. ❞ ❝ i will make you beg as your father begged. ❞   ❝ (until that time,) it would be best to keep all discussions about...    about us to yourself. ❞ ❝ without you i would have lost my way a thousand times. ❞   ❝ you have no other friends. so tread lightly here. ❞   ❝ be it a blessing or a curse, family is always first. ❞   ❝ let’s not walk too far with that idea. i need you right where you are. ❞   ❝ you bested me. yet, i’m the one left standing. ❞   ❝ it’s a pleasure to meet you at least. ❞   ❝ you and your people here have done more for me than i could ever repay. ❞   ❝ you have my highest respect, regard, and trust. ❞   ❝ you’re not shy, are you? ❞   ❝ if we do this, you’ll earn the right to call me friend ten-thousand fold. ❞   ❝ does this have the stench of betrayal to you? ❞ ❝ today has meant so much. we rode, we fought, we drank, we laughed. (you showed me your world.) ❞       ❝ your end was written the moment you came for me. ❞   ❝ i am a sellsword. i ask what i please, and i take what i’m owed. ❞ ❝ you move and i will take your eyes. you hear me? ❞   ❝ i will leap first. on my word, you must follow. ❞   ❝ many times i wished to tell you. wished to say what was in my heart and what i desired. (but duty kept me from it.) ❞   ❝ these wounds will heal quickly. you’re lucky. ❞   ❝ anything to help you feel at home. ❞   ❝ our friendship is the best thing to come from this mess. ❞   ❝ you will be remembered for this, for years to come. ❞   ❝ i thought i had lost you. for good this time. ❞   ❝ you have shown me a great kindness. it is only fitting that i do the same. ❞   ❝ the mess you’re in...you don’t know the half of it. ❞   ❝ you have drawn a dark conclusion about me, haven’t you? (that is all well and good. i’ve drawn some about you as well.) ❞   ❝ you seem...strangely familiar. ❞   ❝ here i am, an upright man who never once learned how to bend the knee. and yet...i shall try. ❞ ❝ that’s a bread knife. do you mean to butter me? ❞   ❝ is that not something you worry over? ❞   ❝ a blind pursuit of vengeance has made you predictable. ❞   ❝ no matter where you are, or how far you travel, i will hunt you down. ❞   ❝ i came for you, looking for a friend and ally. ❞   ❝ people change.    it may be that you change with them, or you go your separate ways. ❞   ❝ i wish you whatever peace you may find in this new life you’ve found. ❞   ❝ i want your word: you will follow my orders. ❞   ❝ the day is new, and the air is bracing. are you ready for the fight ahead? ❞   ❝ er...good to meet you as well? ❞   ❝ what riches are worth so much misery, and the deaths of honorable men and women? ❞   ❝ my destiny is mine to weave. ❞   ❝ my road forward has been a muddy one. slick with blood and tears. (but we can reach its end together.) ❞   ❝ it is a wise leader who considers the needs of others. ❞   ❝ i think my mouth has gotten me in enough trouble today. ❞   ❝ at the end of all things, you will find yourself with nothing but your regrets. ❞   ❝ you saw fit to keep me guessing through your fits of madness. ❞   ❝ by all the gods, what was that? ❞   ❝ i was...restless. a quiet walk alone clears the head. ❞   ❝ when winter is past, summer will come and wind you in a flowered skirt, for you are beauty and shall not wither. ❞   ❝ ...unless you had a more interesting day planned for us? ❞   ❝ i do hope you see it now, for all you have done for me. ❞   ❝ your passion, your strength. i have never met such a burning soul. ❞   ❝ i have no guilt nor regret for what we have done, but we should be careful. ❞   ❝ i see before me a person full of passion, vigor, and a love for their people. ❞   ❝ if i wanted to hear you talk shit, i’d cut out your tongue and shove it up your ass. ❞   ❝ you! you look stronger than most of the others. ❞   ❝ your hatred for me burns bright. i could warm my balls on it. ❞   ❝ you’re quite like your arms: incredibly thick. ❞   ❝ i fought as i do, as hard as i do, to survive. (for i know what awaits us in the end. only darkness.) ❞   ❝ a shameful trick. you are your father’s child. ❞   ❝ you destroyed my life. i will take yours. ❞   ❝ you snore a little, like a wounded bear. ❞   ❝ that’s when i knew i would live and die for you. ❞   ❝ i’m going to pretend your last words were taken by the wind. ❞   ❝ i might still kill you yet, if your prattling doesn’t cease. ❞   ❝ you are weak like your father was weak. (you dance better than you fight.) ❞   ❝ have you ever seen muscles as massive as mine? ❞   ❝ i’m honored by your faith in me. and your confidence. ❞   ❝ after my missteps, i worry what you must think of me. ❞   ❝ with so much blood in the water and death in the air, i’d like to know your name and purpose. ❞ ❝ i have a good feeling about this place. ❞   ❝ you helped me reclaim what i had lost in myself. ❞       ❝ you speak of honor. where’s yours? ❞       ❝ you will throw away all reason to defend what you sworn to. ❞       ❝ you really are like a hero out of folk tales. ❞       ❝ how much would you sacrifice to be freed of fate’s shackles? (would you give your tongue, your hand, your sight?) ❞   ❝ there’s no power strong enough to do what you say. ❞       ❝ please, you must fight for me.    who knows what vile people might come to harm me? ❞   ❝ i have no need to count my kills. they number too many. ❞   ❝ i appreciate you for all of your qualities. ❞ ❝ not even the gods can change fate. ❞       ❝ i think it is time i take my leave. ❞ ❝ you really thought my life was in danger? (and you risked your own life...) ❞ ❝ the path ahead is bright, with glory at its end. ❞ ❝ it is easy to lose one's way on the road to glory. do not let false victories blind you to what is true. ❞ ❝ the act of leaving so beloved a home, there is a sadness to it. ❞       ❝ so there’s nowhere...you call home? ❞   ❝ all things end. ruins are not a warning, they are a testament. ❞   ❝ be nice to sleep in a real bed when this is over. ❞   ❝ in my sleep i dream. and in my dreams i see an end to the doom that will grip the earth once again. ❞   ❝ even when we win, we lose. ❞   ❝ i am as good with my lips, as i am with my tongue. ❞   ❝ is this your idea of a pleasant ride through the country? ❞   ❝ no whispering god brought me here. i brought myself. ❞   ❝ i would like very much to pass some time with you. ❞   ❝ ...and that’s how i got that scar. ❞   ❝ do i now haunt your dreams? ❞   ❝ it was never in their character to lead, it was always within yours. ❞   ❝ so easily wounded by words. imagine the ruin my axe would inflict on your flaccid ego. ❞   ❝ i have felt this way for some time now. i care for you. ❞   ❝ i have not felt safe since then. not really. ❞   ❝ how long have you been chasing me? seventeen winters? eighteen? ❞   ❝ you are not always to be trusted. your passions overcome you. ❞   ❝ i like you. you may help me here or step on me...and by the look of you i’d welcome either. ❞   ❝ it is good to have you in this fight. ❞   ❝ you need only know my impressive scale and flawless build. ❞   ❝ i am better than any man here. ❞   ❝ i can tell by looking at you, you are not a great warrior. (you know it too, there is no reason to deny this.) ❞   ❝ i am looking for honor, and have become lost as a result. ❞   ❝ many apologies. you are no child, simply a frail and fully-grown fool. ❞   ❝ i was stupid, selfish, reckless, blind, boneheaded, and i smell like blood and shit. ❞ ❝ anything to say for the mess you led us to? ❞   ❝ how was your...first kill? ❞   ❝ you squirm like that and my axe will miss your neck! unpleasant for both of us. ❞   ❝ i know you would defy me to the death, fighting for a glorious end.     that i will not allow. ❞   ❝ most men choose to be loud or stupid. impressive, that you managed both. ❞   ❝ you are a great warrior. conquerer of this land and that of your birth. ❞   ❝ you’re chasing shadows like a madman howling at the moon! ❞   ❝ quite a hit you took. how many were lost? ❞   ❝ well fought! even if your wits were somewhat rattled. ❞   ❝ we suffered no losses in this fight, and the men who humiliated us are dead. what is there to say? ❞   ❝ i would like to be close to you. ❞   ❝ if you are a warrior with honor running like sunlight in your veins, then you may help me fulfill my destiny. ❞ ❝ you are a long way from any warm hearth, warrior. Is this where you call home? ❞ ❝ am i to go the rest of my days without love or attention? i think not. ❞   ❝ the gods favor you. they always have. ❞   ❝ the others, they are like clubs. blunt and ungainly, you are nimble, like a knife. ❞   ❝ people with eyes that gleam like yours are always up to something more. ❞   ❝ only a fool stays awake all night worrying. you are tired when you get up, and the problem is still not solved. ❞   ❝ i liked you from the first. i saw something in you that captivated me. (as if a forgotten memory of an old friendship had suddenly resurfaced.) ❞   ❝ you've done nothing but give me your blind word! ❞   ❝ did you bring me any treasure? ❞ ❝ the woodsmoke from your firepit does sting the eyes. but the warmth is welcome. ❞ ❝ it is not something i can speak on. or wish to. ❞ ❝ i'm with you. only say the word. ❞ ❝ until we cut off this serpent's head, it will poison us, day by day, drop by drop. ❞ ❝ get some rest and return here at first light. ❞ ❝ i missed having you at my side. how i wished i could have taken you along on my travels. ❞ ❝ i do not like this, but i will not stop you. ❞ ❝ i have waited too many years for this day. when ___ stands before us, give me the final blow. ❞ ❝ why do you carry such a useless burden? let it go. ❞ ❝ i have waited years for this, but i will not risk losing it through rashness. ❞ ❝ i cannot fathom your game. you are either a young fool...or deceptively wise. ❞ ❝ your confidence blinds you to so much in plain sight. ❞   ❝ it’s good to be here, with you and your people. (i feel my life has found a new road.) ❞   ❝ there has always been war, even among the gods. ❞       ❝ my honor has been stained. until it's wiped clean, i want nothing else. ❞ ❝ i lack the patience for pole fishing. i would have better luck with my bow. ❞   ❝ if we tell all our stories, we’ll be here for a week. ❞ ❝ can you teach me the art of archery? ❞   ❝ bury the past. build the future. ❞       ❝ i missed you. your clear head and your courage. (we have not had enough of both in recent months.)   ❞   ❝ i have a good feeling this war is near its end. ❞ ❝ explain in plain words why you have willfully disobeyed my commands. (do you mock me?) ❞   ❝ the gods favor you. they always have. ❞   ❝ my love for you rises tall and strong, like the tree of life. ❞   ❝ the prize is some of my time. (a walk in nature, maybe more if that is where our conversation takes us.) ❞ ❝ together, we are unstoppable. ❞ ❝ it is natural to fear change. to resist it. (but all things change, and all things end.) ❞ ❝ you said nothing of this to me, not a word. ❞ ❝ so long as men and women fight to secure honor and freedom, their allegiance hardly matters to me. ❞ ❝ i care for you. i do not know how to say it any other way. ❞   ❝ love can burn brighter near death. ❞ ❝ i knew this would be difficult, but sometimes the weight bears down heavily. ❞ ❝ you are young and still foolish, so i will spare you your life. (but cross me again or harm anyone i cherish, and you will join your friends in hell.)   ❞ ❝ if you are as brave as you appear, you will come. ❞ ❝ this is not a natural quiet. it's as if a curse has befallen this place. ❞ ❝ there was a curse here long before i came along. ❞ ❝ we’ll forge a warrior from your softness, hammered on the anvil of war. ❞ ❝ you are different than the kind my flights of fancy attract. burdened, decorated and…delicate. ❞ ❝ i do not know what else to say. m-my memories are faint, hazy. ❞ ❝ how are you doing? you survived a serious blow. ❞   ❝ we’ll weave our sagas together, thread upon thread. ❞ ❝ i try to use my knowledge to help others. i am only a threat to those who fear the unknown. ❞   ❝ slap some moss on that gash and wrap it well. ❞   ❝ a knife to the back is a wound that never heals. ❞       ❝ with me you have wisdom! glory! power! what more do you need? ❞       ❝ if your hell is real, i’m glad you’ll get to see it. ❞   ❝ to fight beside such legends is an honor. (i've only heard tales of your conquests. now i get to live them.) ❞   ❝ i have tried to live well. it is enough that the gods know that. ❞ ❝ a cloud hangs over you. is something wrong? ❞   ❝ you have plunged my city into chaos. ❞   ❝ my sword is gore-greedy. i am ready to fight. ❞   ❝ accept your fate and die a coward, here before your people... and i will spare the rest. ❞   ❝ you would take the rescue for yourself, so the victory song is written about you? ❞   ❝ kneel, and i will spare your life. ❞   ❝ it has been some time. what brings you so far to see me? ❞

#rp meme #roleplay meme #roleplay starters #long post for ts /

[omegansamurai]

You know what ticks me off about what Bryke did to Aang?

They basically didn’t let him interact with the other characters to make him grow into a better person. It was always about Katara.

Like there was when Zuko and Aang went with each other to the Sun Warrior Island, but all of a sudden in TSR, “Zuko’s bad, and we have to make him bad to let the audience know that he’s not a right match for Katara!”

...Like, didn’t Zuko have a redemption arc? And now he’s bad again? ...Clearly I’m missing something here.

I mean, what about other characters? This show is about character growth, so why not let Aang grow into a better person. I’m not saying he isn’t, but he’s clearly a child with a child-like view. Unless the person LIVED through the whole trauma of a genocide, then you don’t listen to what that person preaches about forgiveness and not kill and whatnot. He hasn’t seen or DONE anything like that. Like he could’ve talked about fighting with Sokka, even Suki. They would tell him how they’d strike first and whatnot and make sure the enemy is down. That would make him question his morals a little bit. I mean, he could just knock them out, not really kill them(kind of like Batman, you know?).

Oh, and Toph...come on, Aang, she’s your age, at least talk to her a little bit! She’d even gone through some tough crap that you can probably ask her about....(and maybe develop a little crush on later) 

But it was always Katara...it’s like, dude, you got other friends, ask for their advice that isn’t LOVE advice. You’re freaking twelve, your mind isn’t that advanced yet to think about actual true love. But of course, romance(!), because Bryke can’t think of anything else interesting.

Honestly, I’m really seeing the flaws with Canon Aang now. We tend to forget that he’s portrayed as a 12-year-old boy in ATLA, when we really think he’s this all-knowing kid that...ran away, got frozen in an iceberg for 100 years, and the next thing he thinks after being awakened is penguin sledding with a cute older girl that he, for the first time, sees after being released in the iceberg? Not only that, but he really didn’t fully control his Avatar State. He didn’t even mention it to anybody else, BUT Katara. And he mentioned it just two times, TWO TIMES, to her in season 3(I think). 

Man, the writing quality on season 3 of ATLA is jarring, and it’s sad that nobody notices it. They automatically say it’s the perfect show. I’m sorry, but from all the flaws in the writing of s3(and believe me, there are FLAWS, not only in Aang) and wasted character interactions that Aang could’ve had with the other characters, BESIDES Katara? You’re just gonna ignore that? Granted, you don’t think about it the first time you watch it, but when you watch it again...and a third time...and maybe a fourth time...you can see the flaws.

And while on the topic of Bryke, apparently, they think the show is about romance. And honestly, I’m starting to believe Aang is a self insert of Mike. He doesn’t even hide it in ATLA and LOK(which I will never watch), without the tattoo on his head, his facial structure is there. As you may know, I hold no high regards to Bryke, especially Mike, but Aang is really becoming evident that he’s nothing more than Mike’s super 13-year-old fantasy self-insert of being the hero who gets the girl. Believe me, I had that phase happened to me too...when I was 13. I mean, granted I wasn’t winning a girl at the time, but I watched a lot of Dragonball Z...yeah, take that to account. X( 

Either way, this fandom has gotten so toxic now on how they think Aang was right and is such a hero, when...they just forgot about HOW his genocide was started(him running away), that he’s just 12 in a war-torn world that only held on to his simple child-like belief that everything would be a-okay if we just forgive and hug and hopefully they won’t stab us in the back, and on how his obsessive feelings with Katara is so unhealthy. And it really is, people. He has a world to save, he doesn’t have time to score a girl, especially at his age. 

And as for him finding someone else who isn’t Katara down the road in life...well, hey, Toph’s right there! And I’m sure she would grow up too to be an even better person in life! I mean, kids mature and age, people! You think Aang is really gonna focus on ONE girl? Come on, Aang is clearly a guy, he’ll grow up and find other women attractive. I mean, look at Suki! XP 

It’s just...s3′s writing later on and maybe in the middle of it is so contrived and unrealistic, it needs to be questioned. 

Oh, and don’t tell me that the Air Nomads didn’t fight back against the Fire Nation Army when they attacked their temples, which three things on that: 

1. When the Fire Nation attacked, what do you think the Air Nomads were gonna do; sit down, drink tea, and negotiate a bit? 

2. I honestly think there had to been MORE Air Nomads laying low in the Avatar world, but that wasn’t explored...thanks Bryke. -_-x 

3. And saying that the Air Nomads were a ‘pure race’ is such a pile of bullcrap. If that’s the case, then Aang escaping from his duties as Avatar the first time around wasn’t so ‘pure’, was it? Since, you know, doing this caused an Air Nomad GENOCIDE. And again, the temples where the skeletons of the dead Air Nomads indicated that they FOUGHT the Fire Nation to the death, which skeletons of FIRE NATION SOLDIERS were littered across the floor!? Gee...sounds kind of pure, doesn’t it?

Okay, well, this is a long rant, so I’ll stop here. But I hope you all get what I’m saying with all of this. Aang needed to grow. He needed to be challenged. He needed his morals and beliefs questioned. It makes him more of an interesting character. Yet Bryke...chose the lazy, uninspiring, and quite frankly, cowardly way out of telling Aang is right and no one questions him on it. He didn’t have guidance from his other friends, just his love for Katara to guide him. Which is NOT good enough, I’m sorry. It’s just selfish. Plain and simple as that. 

Bryke(or Mike to be precise) wanted to be the Hero...but at what cost?

#anti-bryke #atla #atla fandom #aang #anti-kataang #s3 flaws #aang-critical #aang's flaws #bryke's self-insertion #I do like aang #I just want aang to be the character that he is meant to be #Not bryke's view of what aang should be #and honestly #it's not about the romance #I just want aang to grow #and really #I'm gonna say it #aang loving katara stunts that growth #I'm sorry to say that but it does #so with that said #comics are trash #lok is trash #anything else that bryke makes at avatar studios #will #be #TRASH #zuko #toph #sokka #suki

[beifongsss]

threatened by the blind bandit [zuko]

Pairing: Zuko x Beifong!reader (also an earthbender)

Summary: requested by anon. “ hii 👉👈 could we get a nervous, flustered!zuko going to sokka for advice on how to get you to like him back?”. This also takes place during season three sometime during the Ember Island Players. I also made the reader Toph’s older sister because I thought it’d be interesting 🙊

i also kind of changed it a little too much so i hope you still enjoy it anon! <3 sorry :(

~

The first time Prince Zuko had seen you had been the time that Azula had been tracking you and the rest of the Gaang with her mysterious machine. You had gotten there along with your sister, bursting in to help Aang fight against the royal siblings. As Toph ran off to help fight against the princess, you had cornered the prince, a slightly crazed look present in your eyes due to your lack of sleep. He had exchanged glances with his uncle before Iroh stepped forward, his hands raised in surrender.

“We mean you and the avatar no harm,” Iroh had said softly. You had tilted your head to the side, glancing at him before making eye contact with Zuko. His eyes had widened as they met yours, a faint blush spreading up his neck that was only visible to Iroh. Your gaze had hardened as you looked at the prince, backing up slightly before speaking.

“If it were just you, I’d believe your words. But since he’s here, I’m not taking any chances,” you said sharply. Turning around, you waved your hand behind you, causing the ground underneath them to become uneven and send them stumbling against the wall behind them. With another wave, pieces of rock flew towards them, chaining their hands to the wall.

Zuko’s eyes didn’t leave your form as you jumped into battle, fighting his sister with a grace that admittedly made his stomach flip. He was so caught up in watching you that he didn’t realize that Iroh had freed himself until he spoke. “Maybe you should spend less time looking at the earthbender and more time trying to free yourself.”

Zuko scowled as he ripped his gaze from you, settling on shooting his uncle a glare. “Free me.”

Iroh chuckled at his nephew’s words but did as he said. Zuko wasted no time in going after Azula, trying not to get distracted by the way you made bending seem so easy. You didn’t notice him, too busy making sure that Sokka was safe from any stray fire or falling rocks.

Eventually, you became the last thing on his mind. Once Azula had attacked Iroh, his well-being became the only thing that mattered. When he screamed at the Gaang to leave him alone, he felt your gaze on him and he hesitantly glanced up, his vision blurred by the tears welling up in his eyes. You took a hesitant step forward, only stopping when Zuko flinched and looked away, his tears finally spilling.

“We have to go,” Toph exclaimed, grabbing onto your hand and pulling you towards Appa. “Now!”

You allowed your sister to pull you away, throwing one last glance behind you. You felt your heart clench at the sight of Zuko hugging Iroh. You climbed onto Appa and sat next to Sokka in silence as you flew away.

~

You didn’t see the prince again until Azula and her friends infiltrated Ba Sing Se. You and Katara had stayed behind to plan the invasion into the Fire Nation on the Day of Black Sun while Aang, Sokka, and Toph each embarked on their respective journeys.

“You’ve got company,” a Dai Li agent called out, tossing someone down next to you. You gasped quietly, turning away from the tunnel you had been creating for you and Katara to escape through.

“Zuko?” you questioned, exchanging an uncertain glance with Katara.

Katara stepped forward, an angry expression on her face. “Why did they throw you in here? Oh, wait, let me guess. It's a trap. So that when Aang shows up to help me, you can finally have him in your little Fire Nation clutches!”

The prince stayed silent as Katara continued her ranting. “You're a terrible person! You know that? Always following us! Hunting the Avatar! Trying to capture the world's last hope for peace! But what do you care? You're the Fire Lord's son. Spreading war and violence and hatred is in your blood!”

You ran in front of Katara, placing a hand on her arm as you noticed Zuko’s expression. “Katara maybe you should calm down.”

She looked at you incredulously before yanking her arm away from you. You flinched out of instinct, stumbling back and landing on your butt next to Zuko, who immediately helped you up and stood in front of you. “Don’t.”

Noticing the way her arm was raised, and how it had implied that she was going to strike you, Katara took a step back. She brought her arm back down to her side, shooting a worried glance at you. She was surprised at the prince’s actions; she had never seen him be that gentle, not even with Iroh. You kept your gaze down, admittedly feeling safe knowing that Zuko was standing in front of you.

“(Y/N),” Katara whispered. “You know I’d never-”

Her voice faded as she noticed Zuko’s fiery glare. Her tone changed as she addressed the prince. “I’m sorry for yelling at you.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Zuko said, his voice gruff and his eyes never leaving you. Katara opened her mouth to speak only to be interrupted by a loud boom coming from the tunnel you had begun earthbending.

“Aang!” you had exclaimed, running over to the avatar. “Where’s Toph?”

“She went to warn King Kuei about Azula. Sokka’s with her,” Aang replied. Your eyes widened before you began running back out through the tunnel.

“(Y/N)! Where are you going?” Katara asked, stumbling after you.

“To help my sister,” you replied fiercely. “And to make sure that Sokka doesn’t get injured!”

Katara tried to go after you only to be stopped by an enormous wall of crystal. Everyone in the catacombs stared after you as you ran away, amazed by what you had just done. Sure, they had known you were a talented earthbender, but this...this was raw power and it had shocked them into silence.

The silence was broken by Zuko, who was still staring wide-eyed at the tunnel you had escaped through. “Wow.”

Everyone else had turned to look at him, causing his cheeks to burn. Remembering his actions from earlier, Katara’s expression changed into a knowing one as she looked at the blushing prince. He avoided her gaze, instead looking at Aang, who’s face held a wide smile, before finally looking at his uncle, who couldn’t stay silent. “Staring at her again? Prince Zuko, if I didn’t know any better I’d say you are very enamored by the earthbender.”

Unfortunately, Zuko’s response was quickly ignored as Azula entered, two Dai Li agents at her side. Zuko got into a defensive position, forcing himself to stop thinking about the beautiful earthbender.

~

The third time you saw Zuko was when he finally joined the group at the Western Air Temple.

He had received a cold welcome from the group, you and Katara especially. After fleeing from Ba Sing Se, Katara had filled you in on what had happened after you left the catacombs, causing you to feel an ache in your chest for some unknown reason.

Maybe it was because you thought that there was no way Zuko could have been evil, not with the way he had shielded you when you thought Katara was about to strike you. Not with the way he threw himself over Iroh’s unconscious body when Azula has attacked, sobs racking his body. Or maybe, just maybe, it was because a part of you had felt your heart flutter when you noticed the soft way that Zuko had been looking at you in the catacombs.

But he was the prince of the Fire Nation, and you now knew that the Fire Nation could not be trusted. The only reason you were keeping him around was so that he could teach Aang firebending. Other than that, you were ready to throw him off a cliff, especially when you found out he had burned Toph’s feet.

You spent more time with the prince than you expected, especially after finding out that he was the only other bender that had any training in hand-to-hand combat. Before him, Sokka had been your sparring partner, but you were always hesitant to fight him because you were used to using your earthbending as an advantage and you didn’t want to hurt the nonbender. When you weren’t out sparring with Zuko, you spent your time with Sokka, ranting about said prince.

Sokka found the whole situation amusing. He could tell that Zuko had feelings for you. If the blush that coated his face every time you sparred wasn’t enough of an indicator, the way Zuko would stumble and stutter every time you addressed him was more than enough evidence. It also didn’t hurt that Toph could feel his heartbeat speed up whenever you were around him.

The water tribe boy leaned against a pillar as he watched the two of you spar, wincing slightly when you hesitated to strike and were hit with a fireball. Sokka’s lips twitched as you let out a hiss from where you were sitting, cradling your arm to your chest as you inspected the burn. Zuko ran forward, panic clear on his face as he took in the damage he had caused.

“(Y-Y/N), I-I’m so, so s-sorry,” Zuko stuttered out, crouching next to you as he reached for your arm. You glared at him, pulling your arm away from him as you rose to your feet. “I d-didn’t mean t-to.”

You didn’t say anything to him as you stalked away, deciding to find Katara so she could heal the burn. Once you were out of sight, Sokka stepped towards the prince, clapping slowly as Zuko scowled.

“You know, it’s pretty funny to watch you turn into a stuttering mess when you’re around her,” Sokka said, smiling widely. “I can help you with that.”

“Why would I accept any help from you,” Zuko replied rudely, turning to walk away.

“Because I’m her best friend,” came Sokka’s smug reply. “And trust me, if there’s anyone that knows how to deal with her anger, it’s me.”

Zuko paused, thinking over Sokka’s words before turning back around, a defeated look on his face. “Okay. Help me win her over. Please.”

~

Sokka did end up helping Zuko, to an extent. In return, Zuko had helped Sokka break his father and Suki out of the Boiling Rock. No matter how much the two boys would deny it, breaking in and out of the Boiling Rock had helped them grow closer together, something that annoyed you to no end.

Now, whenever you wanted to talk to Sokka, Zuko was right there next to him. It was like you could no longer avoid the prince no matter what you did.

After Zuko had helped Katara track down her mother’s murderer, she had finally forgiven him, leaving you as the only one who hadn’t welcomed him fully into the group. You did all you could to avoid him once the Gaang had reached Ember Island, spending most of your time with Appa.

~

“You have to get over it sometime,” Toph’s voice broke through the silence, startling you slightly as you turned to face her.

“What?” you asked, pretending to not know what she was talking about.

Toph remained silent as she stared at you, or at least as she stared at where she thought you were. In reality, she was staring at Appa as you stood off to the side. You tried your best to stifle a laugh.

“Why can’t you see he’s changed? Everyone else has, even the Sugar Queen,” Toph continued, crossing her arms. “Besides, I’m getting real tired of the way his heartbeat gets when you’re around. I swear you’re gonna kill that boy.”

You flushed at your sister’s words, opening your mouth to reply before you were interrupted by Sokka’s screaming.

“Let’s go see the play!”

“Look,” Toph said, beginning to walk away. “Just think about it okay?”

You stayed silent as you followed her, wondering when the hell she had grown up so much.

~

The play was set to start in a few minutes so you all decided to me your way to your seats. You were about to take a seat next to Toph when she pushed you away before pulling Katara down next to her. “Sorry this seat’s taken.”

You glared at your sister before sitting next to Katara, stiffening up when you looked next to you to see Zuko sitting there. The two of you blushed as you made eye contact.

“Toph’s a genius,” you heard Sokka snicker from behind you, causing you to sink down in your chair. The play began soon after and as far as plays go, this one was absolutely terrible. Hilarious, but terrible. You and Toph were having the time of your life laughing at the way everyone was being portrayed. You had no idea that the Zuko was paying a lot more attention to you than he was to the play.

Intermission came too soon (at least in your opinion) and you found yourself heading to the lobby to buy some fire flakes.

Back near the doors, Zuko was sitting down with his back against the wall and his head buried in his arms. He glanced up when he heard a set of footsteps approach him only to find Toph standing next to him. He put his head back down.

“You’re pathetic,” were the first words to come out of Toph’s mouth, causing Zuko to look up wildly, disbelief and offense visible on his face, not that Toph could see it.

“What?”

“You heard me,” the Beifong girl stated. “I can’t believe you’re over here wallowing in your pity instead of confessing to my sister.”

Zuko opened his mouth to retort but was cut off by Toph. “Don’t deny it! In case you forgot, I can feel your heartbeat and I know that it goes crazy whenever you so much as think about her.”

Zuko’s face burned as he noticed the rest of the Gaang coming back.

“Just man up and tell her how you feel okay fire pants?” Toph spoke again before stomping back inside the theater.

Once everyone was settled back in their seats, the play began once again. After a shockingly accurate portrayal of you and the reveal of Toph as a buff man, the play finally got to when you had been trapped down in the crystal catacombs.

You and Katara shifted uneasily as Actress Katara raised her hand, causing Actor Zuko to step in front of Actress You and stop Actress Katara.

“Don’t you dare lay a hand on her,” Actor Zuko growled.

“What do you care?” Actress Katara replied. “This doesn’t concern you Zuko.”

“Yes it does!”

“Why?”

“Because I love her,” Actor Zuko roared. “Because I love her and I won’t let anyone hurt her.”

You tuned out the play when Actress You also professed her love for Actor Zuko, who then proceeded to kiss Actress You. You could feel Sokka’s stare burning into your head and you sunk low into your chair, turning to glance as Zuko only to find him already looking at you. You swallowed uneasily as you maintained eye contact only to break it when Aang spoke.

“Why are you all silent now?”

Katara glanced at the stage and then at the two of you as subtly as she could, not that you didn’t notice.

“Is it because of the confession?” Aang asked adorably. “It’s not like it’s weird, we already knew that Zuko liked (Y/N/N)!”

You heard Toph and Sokka try to stifle their laughs as you and Zuko sank impossibly low in your seats, flinching when you felt your arm rub against his.

~ It was dark out when you decided it was finally time to talk to Zuko. After searching for him in the house, you noticed flashes of light and you followed them to find Zuko firebending down at the beach.

You observed him for a while before deciding to speak up. “Zuko.”

Zuko flinched and whirled around, losing his footing when he saw you and toppling into the sand. “(Y-Y/N)!”

You smiled softly, offering him a hand. He took it, standing up and coming face-to-face with you.

“W-What are you d-doing out here?” Zuko asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I just thought I should tell you that I’m sorry for being so rude to you and not welcoming you into the group,” you whispered, your eyes never leaving his.

“You don’t h-have to apologize,” Zuko breathed, growing nervous under your soft gaze. “I d-deserved it, after everything I’ve done t-to you.”

“No. I was being unfair to you, even after you proved that you had finally changed,” you retorted, closing your eyes before continuing. “The truth is, I was upset that you had chosen Azula’s side because a part of me...a part of me has feelings for you, and I was angry with myself for letting myself fall for you.”

The silence that followed was deafening and you found yourself regretting your words. What if your sister and Sokka were wrong? What if they were just lying to you? There was no way that they could know how Zuko truly felt abou-

Your racing thoughts were silenced when you felt a pair of lips press against yours. Zuko’s hands trembled as they gripped your waist, pulling you closer to him. You returned the kiss, your hands weaving through his hair and your head spinning as you realized that you were kissing someone that had been considered your enemy for the longest time.

“I left the palace to train Aang,” Zuko said huskily, finally pulling away. His hands didn’t leave your waist. “But I know that I also left because I wanted to see you again and I wanted to prove to you that I wasn’t evil and that having feelings for someone as good as you wasn’t wrong.”

You stared at him before speaking once again. “I never thought you were evil.”

Zuko’s gaze changed to surprised before going back to the soft gaze he had been directing at you. Without saying anything, he pulled you into a hug breathing deeply at your words as a weight lifted off his chest.

“I never did,” you continued, clinging onto him. You stayed like that for a while before Zuko pulled back, staring at you for what felt like an eternity before stealing another kiss from you.

“I’m glad we finally talked,” he mumbled against your lips, causing you to chuckle.

“I can’t believe we have my sister to thank. She basically threatened me into talking to you,” you said, breaking the kiss.

Zuko’s eyes widened before he started laughing. Wrapping an arm around your shoulders, he began to guide you back to the vacation house, pressing a kiss to your temple as he smiled down at you.

“Funny. She threatened me too.”

~

hiiii i hope this was good i kind of struggled with how i wanted this to play out but i hope you enjoyed!!

#prince zuko x reader #atla zuko x reader #zuko #prince zuko #atla zuko #aang #avatar #avatar: tla #avatar: the last airbender #avatar toph #avatar aang #toph #toph beifong #avatar x reader #atla #katara #sokka #appa #zuko x reader #atla sokka #atla katara

[kanmom51]

I wonder: if I showed this simple (and definitely incomplete) list of things Jikook did with each other to some outsider... would they think they are a couple or not?

(-> YES. YES THEY WOULD. The fact that people have the gut to discredit them because they are same sex members of a boy group blows my mind! The overly pushed heteronormative is especially disgusting :/)

JM is JK 's emergency contact

JK has JM initials tattoed on his ring finger

they know e/o's family very well JK's mom loves JM JK references JM's father multiple times JK's brother seem to like JM a lot

JM gave JK a '(love)bite' on his neck

JK nibbled on JM's ear on a stage in front of 66k people after saying 'I love you'

JK called JM baby

JK called JM dangshin

JM called JK puppy prince

JK drops honorifics with JM

you are me I am you

they where together on free days/national holidays

they are often seen arriving and leaving together in the same car

JK said JM is the perfect person to marry

JK always gives JM his full attention when JM is talking

JK said JM is the member who gave him the most confort

they went to see the first snow together

they wore matching outfits on valentine's day

they went on a private holiday together (JK's present to JM for his birthday)

JK recorded their holiday together and published the video as his last present to JM (said video has romantic undertones and lyrics)

JK has preferential treatment for JM - pancake - never getting angry and letting JM get away with anything - scolding the other members when they talk over JM

they have special voices/tones for e/o

they share or match clothes jeans shirts green jackets vampire t-shirt olive brewery sweater grey t-shirt pants/shirt by LV check collection olive green and balck plaid jacket purple shirt and purple marni sweater shoes on several occasions

they went on a date to disneyland

they went on a date bowling

they went on a date ice skating

they touch in sus places neck (both) inner thighs (both) waist (JK to JM) chest (JM to JK) hair/face/lips (both) ass (both)

they hold hands for no reason

they back-hug for no reason

they side-hug for no reason

they hug for no reason

they sit on top of e/o

JK gravitates towards JM

JK stares at JM a lot esp his lips

they cuddle

JM said he would go to the moon with JK

JM said he would feel safe with JK even on a deserted island

JM said JK is a reliable banreyo

JK said everything about JM is cute

JK said JM is the cutest

JK said JM with makeup is sexy

JK said 'if it's sexy, it's JM hyung'

JM said he loves waking up and seeing JK

JK portraied his and JM morning routine in the music video for LGO bc he wanted realism

JM said the part of his heart that thinks about JK is quite big

JK woke up early on a 'retreat' in New Zeland to collect snow and gift it to JM

JK said JM's existence is honey for him

they have been seen going shopping together

they have been seen working out together

they have given e/o plenty of compliments (even on their phisical appearence)

the thing JK is most sorry for is an argument with JM when they were younger

jin repeatedly teased them for their couply behavior

they flirt on stage magic shop

they naturally pair up for group pictures

they wait for e/o to head home

they give e/o advice on dancing, performance and singing

they are together at weird hours at night (night buddies coff coff)

V called them out several time for being together alone instead of with him (vlives)

they said they better not do vlives together bc they distract e/o

the members refers to them as a unit

staff has said they never see them separated

they have questionable selcas together (of buised lips and shared beds)

JK said JM is shameless

they flirt a lot during downtime

JM seems to like being picked up/carried around by JK

JM said JK is his happy virus

JK said he makes JM happy. JM didn't deny

rabbit spit

JM saying JK likes being tied up

allusive pick up lines everywhere my heart is burning why are you acting cute detective play with me arrest me do you think you can always be forgiven bc you are cute it's not our first time I want you why do you always come to my room give me a kiss why am I so erotic? I am going to be your future boyfriend are you happy bc of me? Don't you hear my heartbeat? I purple u do you like me that much? This is my toy JK's holy sweat You gotta spank him although he's older

questionable subtitles provided for context star, wind and romance mood and they lived happily ever after JK is happy with JM kate minslet and leonardo jungcaprio JM is JK's favourite model the director is getting into it JM and JK are one the maknae is happy thanks to JM hearts, cute comments and music from the editing team over their interactions

the sun and moon duo

golden closet film

big romantic gestures for e/o JM getting back to korea from Paris for JK's birthday JK singing romantic songs to JM

korea's open secret

being seen together taking a covid swab

JM always stays afterhours to reharse with JK

they are e/o biggest fanboys

JK is protective of JM (airport)

jimmeo and kookliet

JM got annoyed Jin called him while he was spending time with JK

they went on a boat date to see the red moon

they went to see malta together

JK is often potographing or filming JM

they have moments together that are proper misteries and so weird the mosquito net incident the whole osaka vlives fiasco the various 'home' references laguna beach the kiss sound video while JK reharses weird tweets/hashtags what do you want for your birthday, do you have a desire? Ambiguous use of the world ARMY what is tasty in Busan JM's manager the tissue incident the incriminated-selfie gate

they seem to know everything about e/o

they mention e/o a lot

their last two solo songs are love songs (finding love in unexpected places and the joy coming from happy love)

j-hope mixes them up a lot

JM has plenty of cute pet names for JK

JM said 'it could appear as if JK is simply somebody close to him who is younger (but...)'

JM is always with JK when he is phisically or emotionally hurt

JK often massages JM for his chronic pain

JM often massages/caresses JK bc yes

JK imitated JM's dangerous dieting in order to make him realize how bad it was

they have private (questionable) videos dancing together/practicing alone

JK took over a call JM did to Jin on vlive to say 'I love you'

JK said 'I love you JM' in the mic after a concert

JK said 'I love you' to JM on the red carpet in sign language

They both said they get hyped when they make eye contact on stage

JK gave JM the cutie award

JK stays close to JM when JM falls asleep in public places

they blew kisses to e/o

they got lost staring at e/o and forgot what they where doing JM on the red carpet both of them at awards

they paired accessories

they paired hair colors

they have a lot of admiration for e/o as people

JK lets (or makes) JM win

they get frequently lost in their own world

they reference things only the other understand

JK sometimes puts up a bit of a jealous act I do not approve of this

JM lets JK scold him

JK said to JM 'you are always number one for me'

JK said to JM 'I am always watching you'

JK has been recorded softly containing JM when he's on a perfectionist streak

they seek e/o out for comfort after performance hugging/hand holding

when one is hurt the other looks like he's suffering too JK on stage when JM broke down in the first virtual concert JM when JM got denied in a game

they defend e/o from the other members and have e/o's back

the other members separated them on several occasions when they got too touchy

personal space who?

They know things about e/o that are clearly not shared with the class brushing teeths snoring alarm ring sleeping time

black swan performance

they put e/o hands under the other's clothes to touch bare skin

JM kissed JK's neck

they feed e/o

spanking and ass-grabbing

they were caught on camera ogling e/o shamlessly

JM's weird strenght kink

JM said his camera roll is full ok JK

they have a different smile for e/o

other members said suspicious things about them together

JK only saw JM and J-hope during their official break

all the members minus JM complain about JK not answering his phone

heart eyes

drinking from the same bottle

blindly recognizing e/o's body parts just by touch or out of context photos

napping on each other (yeah, you read that right)

non-verbal communication over 9000

weird editorial cuts in backstage videos when the two of them are together

JM said 'JK falls asleep hugging me'

JM said 'JK plays hard to get but when he thinks I am sleeping he comes by and say I love you'

JM said he is the main model for GCF

JK said JM's photocard is sexy

JK sometimes hesitates in touching JM or holding him when he knows they r on camera

JK said JM is a fallen angel

JK praised JM's dancing several times

JK likes to tease JM

fixing e/o clothes

JK closes his eyes when JM touches him

JM run trough a whole stage abandoning his stage persona when he hought JK was being sick

JM puts JK's happiness first

similar mindset about important stuff in life

JM sat on JK. Uh. Different ways

JK putting his hands over JM while being hugged in order to drag JM even closer

JM ordering JK around and literally dragging him around

JK being overprotective

the members subtly panicking when JK/JM have to interact closely on camera

JM having to fight for JK's forgiveness while Jin was immediately let off the hook

Quite a list anon, lol. You put so much work into this list I couldn't not post it.

I do agree with most of your points if not all of them, but a good example of just how much there is out there to show how these two are the real deal.

#ask #anon