#please accept my weak attempt at support

[angelfic]

Howdy! Could I request a Theodore Nott, secret relationship, “don’t leave me… please”. ❤️

here u go!! i actually really like this idea and kind of wanna recycle it for a longer fic maybe.. 🤔 thank u for the request! 💌

theodore nott x reader + secret relationship + “don’t leave me… please”

➺ part of my 2k milestone writing game

You’re stressfully stirring sugar into your tea in the kitchen of 12 Grimmauld Place when Mattheo and Theodore turn up, bruised and bloody in the hands of Alastor Moody.

The Auror had sent a message in advance through his Patronus, alerting members of the Order that he was heading to headquarters with two death eater defectors. An hour of hoping it’s who you think, and three cups of tea later, you breathe a sigh of relief when you realise Mattheo and Theo are alive.

The way Theo is leaning his weight on Mattheo doesn’t slip past you, and as soon as he finds you among the others, you rush forward.

“Hi,” Theo whispers, the greeting reserved only for you despite the numerous others in the dining room. His eyes are drooping slightly as he sways on his feet. Nonetheless, he gives you a weak smile. “I’m okay. I promise.”

You nod slowly, brows furrowed in concern despite his reassurance. Ignoring Moody’s confused stares, along with the whispering happening behind you, you do a quick scan of Mattheo and find that he’s definitely had worse injuries from spontaneous fist fights during your years at Hogwarts.

“Are you okay?” you mouth at him, just in case. He winks at you in answer.

Moody, seemingly snapping out of his confusion, turns to you and raises a brow. “You know these two, then?” he asks gruffly, a hint of suspicion creeping into his voice.

“We all went to school together,” Dean Thomas pipes up, saving you from having to stumble over your words in an attempt to explain your relationship with Theo.

There’s no doubt in your mind that everyone in the room suspects you and Theo are more than just schoolmates, but you don’t move to address anything. The implications of you being in love with an ex-death eater aside, it’s none of their business. Moody doesn’t quite seem to accept this immediately.

”School,” he mutters, nodding begrudgingly. “And how well do you-”

“Alastor,” McGonagall cuts him off sharply. Peering at him over her spectacles, she purses her lips. “You can get to interrogating them about being Transfiguration partners after they’ve recovered. These boys need a healer. Now.”

“Yes, yes,” Moody replies grumpily, reluctantly letting them go to open the door to the hall. “We’ve got Poppy in the living room. She’ll fix them up, nice and quick.”

You step back to give the two boys space to make their way to the Healer, but Theo catches your hand and grips it tightly. “No. No, Y/N can do it. Just give her some of the medicine, I’m not seeing anyone else.”

You open your mouth to object, wanting Madame Pomfrey to assess him properly, but the pleading in his eyes has you hesitating.

“Don’t leave me…” Theo’s voice becomes lower, quieter and earnest. “Please.”

“Okay,” you exhale, cupping his face with your hand and stroking your thumb over his cheekbone. You look over at Professor McGonagall for confirmation and when she sighs and nods, you respond with a grateful smile before turning back to Theo. “I won’t leave you.”

Mattheo clears his throat, popping the little bubble you and Theo have found yourself in and making you look away, cheeks warm. Walking over to where Moody holds the door open, Mattheo gives you both a knowing look before speaking to the rest of the room. “I guess I‘ll be seeing dear, old Poppy alone then. Nothing she hasn’t fixed before.”

Taking this as your cue to leave, you wrap an arm around Theo’s waist to support him as you make your way out of the room and up the stairs to an empty room. You help him to sit on the bed and disentangle your hand from his, dropping a kiss to the inside of his palm. “I need to go get the stuff from Madame Promfrey, I won’t be a minute-”

“Not yet,” Theo pleads, hooking pinky finger around your own and tugging lightly. “I’m not that injured, just… come here for a second.”

Your resolve crumbles immediately due to not having seen Theo since school ended a month ago, during which he was trying to leave the other side of the war without getting himself killed. You sit next to him on the bed, but he immediately reaches over to manoeuvre you by the waist until your legs are wrapped around him in a straddling position. Theo presses a soft kiss to your lips and the pure love radiating from him makes your heart jump to your throat. When he pulls away, he looks more relaxed and content than he has in months.

“Hi,” he says, a gentle smile playing about his lips while he fingers the hem of your shirt where it sits at your back. Tingles run down your spine where his cold fingers brush against your skin and you end up leaning into his chest even more, causing his smile to deepen. “I missed you, darling.”

“What, Crabbe and Goyle weren’t good company?” you tease, tilting your head. Theo scoffs in disgust, lightly tugging on a lock of your hair and looking at you expectantly. “I missed you too, Theo. So, so much. I’m glad you got out.”

“Me too,” he sighs, dropping his head to rest on your shoulder. You both stay in silence for a few minutes and you bask in the warmth of Theo’s breaths fanning over your collarbone. He nestles his face into your neck and seems perfectly happy just to stay there when he speaks. “It was torture staying away, you know. I’m never leaving your side again.”

You run your fingers through Theo’s hair, lightly scratching at his scalp and biting back a smile when he lets out a sound halfway between a sigh and a groan. “You being glued to me is probably going to make it clear that we’re more than ex-Transfiguration partners, by the way.”

“I bet you anything they all already know,” Theo murmurs distractedly. You frown and sit up straighter to look at him, raising a curious brow in questioning. He looks at you like it’s obvious. “Mattheo is downstairs, unsupervised. If he hasn’t told everyone by now…”

You shake your head, shifting to move off Theo’s lap. A pout forms on his lips, but he reluctantly lets you stand. “I better go do some damage control while I go get the stuff from Pomfrey. Merlin knows what embarrassing things Mattheo is telling them right now.”

“I can think of a few things,” Theo says, his innocent voice contrasting with the devious smirk on his face. “Like the time we were in the Astronomy Tower and you were too loud, so-”

“Right, okay!” you interrupt loudly, screwing your eyes shut in embarrassment as you try your best not to relive that particular memory. Taking a deep breath and ignoring the way Theo is cracking up, you smile sweetly at him. “You haven’t had any injuries to the head, have you?”

“No, love,” he replies, grinning. “Why?”

You grab a pillow and swing it into Theo’s face, knocking him backwards on the bed. Crossing your arms in satisfaction, you falter when he stays laying down and moans in pain.

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” you rush out, panicked as you move the pillow out of the way to climb onto the bed and hover over him. Theo cracks his eyes open slightly, his face scrunched up in discomfort and your stomach drops. “Theo, where does it hurt?”

“Here, come closer,” Theo winces, gesturing you forward, closer and closer and you furrow your brows in confusion. When you’re close enough, he snakes his hand around to the nape of your neck and pulls you into a deep kiss, burying his fingers in your hair. You don’t bother admonishing him, your head getting dizzy from the feel of his lips moving against your own. You only pull away when you hear sudden laughter coming from downstairs. Theo doesn’t look ashamed in the slightest when you do. “All better.”

“Not yet, you’re not,” you say, rolling your eyes and sitting up again. You make sure you put all of your weight on the mattress to do so, just in case you actually do end up hurting him. “I’m actually going downstairs now, okay? The idea of Mattheo talking to McGonagall is driving me crazier by the minute.”

“Come back quickly?” he asks lightly, but there’s a hint of pleading in the way his hand circles your wrist. You give him a reassuring smile and another quick peck on the lips.

“Always.”

#theodore nott x reader #theodore nott #theodore nott x you #Theodore nott scenarios #theodore nott fanfiction #theodore nott x y/n #Theodore nott fluff #theodore nott smut #theo nott #Theodore nott imagines

[grandlinedreams]

Hiya! Thank you for all of your fics! 🫡 They really make my day everyday! If you are still accepting requests, may I please request anything angsty with a fluffy end for Azriel 🥹 Whatever you can think of! ☺️

Hiya!! I sure can hehe, I hope this is to your liking!!

|| warnings: angst, blood, the war camp Illyrians are jerks, fluff

Illyria is fucking cold.

Wind whips at your face, unforgiving chill biting at any exposed skin ㅡ not to mention the steady crush of snow beneath your feet. The sun is already sinking past the snow-covered line of pines that makes up the steppes ㅡ making you grimace and attempt to hurry your pace.

This was not how you'd expected to spend your evening ㅡ but then again, you suppose freezing to death is more ideal than whatever fate your supposed "group" had intended for you. Made of Illyrian males and wholly unfamiliar, they'd made it clear that you weren't welcome on this expedition when you'd started ㅡ even more so when they'd had the audacity to grab at you with enough force to bruise your skin.

You aren't Illyrian, and so perhaps the thought had been that you would be weak, made more vulnerable in unfamiliar territory ㅡ but you'd proven them wrong when you'd sank your dagger into the gut of one of them, wrenched yourself free, and promptly taken off with the speed of a frightened stag.

You know they could track you if they really tried, but with the snow that pelts from above and the darkening sky, you doubt they'll risk it. But you're facing a bigger problem now ㅡ you have no idea how to get back.

"Fuck," you whisper to yourself, teeth clenched to keep from chattering. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

If it weren't so goddamned cold, you would've been paying better attention. If you hadn't been chased off by a handful of alphahole males with superiority complexes, you wouldn't even be out here in the first place.

Which is why, you suppose, all you can feel is surprise as the ground underneath you gives way with the cracking snap of loose rock and earth. It doesn't give you time to react as you lose your balance, plummeting gracelessly down into the abyss below what'd apparently been a drop off.

Your body bounces once, twice ㅡ then your head rebounds off sharp stone, impact making your ears ring before silent black consumes you.

Something is wrong.

Azriel can feel it, an undercurrent of tension that thrums in his veins like a second heartbeat. This entire place makes him uneasy, the churn of memories from his own time here as a child that reminds him why he avoids this place at all costs when he can.

But Rhysand had been adamant that he and Cassian make sure things were going well here, and you'd gone along to offer what support you could. Azriel appreciated the intent, but the way you'd been eyed by more than a few of the other males had set him on edge even further.

Cassian eyes him with a mixture of amusement and sympathy at the fact that he's just shy of pacing. Movement at the edge of his peripheral catches his attention, and he turns ㅡ it's the group you'd gone to scout the steppes with.

And, he notes with a fresh spike of fear to his stomach, you're not with them.

Azriel is moving before he truly registers it, eyes flicking from one face to another, fury rising like the maelstrom howling in the moutains beyond. "Where is she."

One of them has the audacity to scoff, and Azriel's blood boils as his shadows writhe, clamoring for bloodshed. Right now, he'd have no qualms about ripping every single one of them to pieces. His siphons blaze. "Tell me where [Name] is. Now."

One of them sneers. His arm is slung over his stomach, stemming the spill of blood from a wound to his stomach. Azriel hopes that you're the one who gave it to him. "She took off."

Azriel snarls, wings snapping out before he throws a rough, "Deal with them before I do" to Cassian before he's in the air and off in the direction they'd come from.

The only reason you know you aren't dead is because everything hurts. Pain radiates from everywhere, from the tips of your toes to your scalp ㅡ but you're alive.

You're not certain if you're relieved or not. A quick tentative flex of your hands is first, then your neck, your back ㅡ and you hiss a sharp curse when white-hot agony starbursts from your left ankle.

It takes longer than you care to acknowledge to sit up enough to assess it ㅡ grimacing at the swollen flesh, bruised an interesting shade of purple.

Fuck.

There's no way you're going to get out of here, not like this. Frustration mixed with fear prompts the rise of tears to your eyes, and you grit your teeth against a sob.

You're going to die out here. And there's nothing you can do about it. You doubt those alphaholes told anyone what happened and while you know Cassian and Azriel will look for you, they won't know where to look.

You stifle another choked sob, then still at the sound of movement. Of course some wild animal would take advantage, you're an easy meal ㅡ

"[Name]," a voice calls from behind you, so Cauldron-blessedly familiar that it has you struggling to turn, raw hands scrabbling for purchase to haul you upright.

You don't know how your ankle bears your weight or how you don't immediately collapse back to the ground ㅡ all you care about is lurching into the Illyrian male's arms with a ragged call of his name. "Azriel."

How he found you is beyond you, but his arms are around you, warding off some of the chill as he takes on most of your weight. He doesn't ask what happened, and you don't ask what you look like. The way his grip tightens on you answers how he feels about both.

He's still gentle as he lifts you up, flinching when you still hiss in pain. And then you're airborne, cradled carefully against him. Pain and exhaustion make your eyelids heavy as you nestle against Azriel's neck, the subtle shift of his head against yours following you into sleep.

When you wake next, it's to the crackle of a fire and the warmth of dry clothes. Sitting up is still a challenge, and dried blood flakes beneath your touch when you bring your fingers to the tender throbbing of your temple.

"You're awake." You look up to see Azriel standing in the doorway. You've been around him enough to read him, the unspoken relief in his eyes as he approaches. "You don't have to worry about that group of warriors," he tells you, "Cassian and I handled it."

The gleam to his eyes turns wicked and cruel, and you have no doubts how he and Cassian handled it. It doesn't make you feel better. You look away, studying the blanket over your legs.

"They had a point," you mumble, hating the weak rasp to your tone. "I shouldn'tㅡ"

"Give people like that any kind of weight to the words they say," Azriel cuts in sharply. "Because they're wrong. Just because you aren't Illyrian doesn't mean you're not strong."

When you still won't look at him, Azriel approaches you and reaches, calloused fingers coaxing your head up to meet his gaze.

"You still deserve better, Az," you mumble. Azriel's eyes narrow, flashing before he's leaning down to press his lips to yours. The kiss is rough, demanding ㅡ and then he pulls away enough to look at you, eyes blazing.

"I don't want better," Azriel answers, voice low. "Because there isn't. I just want you."

Your lips tremble before you're kissing him again, softer and sweeter. "You have me, Az," you mumble.

"And you have me," he answers, quiet enough that only you can hear him. "Now and forever."

#ㅡmine. #acotar x reader #azriel shadowsinger x reader #azriel x reader #az x reader

[alicerosejensen]

I love your page so much omg. I‘m literally obsessed with your work😭🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

Also I have this imagination in my mind going on about how Leon would try to help his girlfriend from recovering from her mental health issues since she’s always helping him. I was recently thinking about how he would react finding her not moving on the bathroom floor and trying to bring her back! I rewatched American horror stories and the scene with tate and violet in the first season episode 6 (ig?) is always in my head. I‘m still recovering from my past and my unhealthy habits and tbh recovery never felt better.

If this is too much for you or triggering please ignore this.🫶🏼❤️

I had a terrible period in my life when I was a few steps away from doing something like this in my life and unfortunately this shit often comes out. I'm not sure that such texts help me work through my psychological traumas, which were, in fact, inflicted on me and continue to be inflicted by close people who do not consider me a person, but at least such works help me to vent my pain, which I cannot permanently bury in myself.

I have been postponing this request for a long time because I was probably waiting for the right moment to write this text.

There are mentions of suicide, psychological trauma, severe self-doubt and anxiety, so if this is not acceptable to you, then please just block it.

Perhaps there is a similarity with my previous texts, but I am writing this with strong emotions now that I am trying to cope with it again.

the text is chaotic, I repeat, written while I was under the influence of strong heavy emotions. Maybe I'll delete it later, when my brain gets back to normal a little bit.

If a songbird doesn't sing well, they wring its neck.

Maybe it was the costs of Leon's profession and the result of his constant missions, after which something human is gradually dying in him despite the constant struggle to save everyone. Raccoon City was supposed to teach, if not to survive, then make him begin to understand that some are doomed to die.

Leon Kennedy was taught not to offend, but to protect the weak, especially weak women. But it is difficult to calm the flow of disordered thoughts and put aside the fear that has seized him in order to clamp bloody wrists and apply something to them to stop the blood. Leon knew many strong women: Ada was perhaps the first among them, he did not know either her past or her real name, only the present that pushed their foreheads against each other; Claire, a fighting friend of misfortune that he met in that ill-fated city; Ashley, who turned from a baby eagle into a proud eagle; Angela Miller and others…

Your strength dissolves in the water, coloring it scarlet while your heart stubbornly still beats, let the rhythm noticeably shorten.

In truth, over the past few months it became clear that this was the only way out. When even your loved ones considered you an expired product and did not hesitate to remember this and remind you every time. In the end, their words turned into an obsessive worm that settled in your head, slowly day after day, month after month, devouring you and the circumstances seemed to be not in your favor. Instead of support, you somehow faced reproach, as if the universe was screaming that you were an wrong person, nature's mistake who had no right to live.

Escape attempts were doomed to failure. At first you tried to suppress it in yourself, helping Leon, because, in your opinion, he was the only one who had the right to complain about life, although he did not do this in front of you, because everyone said that you had no problems: you have everything limbs, there are no fatal diseases, all loved ones are healthy and there is a roof over your head, as if this is enough to not fall for nonsense and not walk around forever with a sad face.

This was the last time you shared your experiences. You didn’t even bother telling Leon, but everything inside was torn from constant pain. The feeling was as if you were being beaten by two extremes that led you to the edge of an abyss where you ultimately voluntarily jumped.

no, you really loved him, it was just other people’s words and your own speculation that convinced you, despite your strong relationship with him, that Leon would find someone better, someone more confident in himself, someone who would not be you because you had already missed the chance for a good life because it moved too slowly. Ultimately, a couple of sips of alcohol with sleeping pills and a sharp blade in his hands simply promised to correct the mistake in the form of you with your own hands.

You didn't have the courage to do it any other way.

But you really didn’t think that if you could try to open up to your loved one, you would meet support and not condemnation. Perhaps in a mad world he would be the only one who would heal your wounds as you healed him in your time. Leon clenched his teeth, feeling tears flowing down cheeks, seeing these crimson stains, when he pulled your body out of the bath, holding you close to him, repeating “I’m holding you. It's allright"

He so carefully laid you on his lap, managing to pull out a first aid kit and then bandages to tightly, albeit carelessly, wrap them around your wrist in order to somehow stop the bleeding. At least you were still breathing, thereby giving him hope that everything could still be fixed. the darkness and emptiness came to life, calling in a whisper to dissolve into eternal silence where there is no pain or condemnation. Your body will be in a grave under a gray stone, while the remains of your soul will float like a small grain of sand in infinity.

For Leon, everything happens in a fog; he tried more than once to save people, but he had no right to lose in this battle, even if you yourself surrendered to death. Shaking his head, brushing away the tears, he wrapped your body in a large terry towel, kissed your temple and picked you up, trying to somehow warm you, pressing you closer to him. the ability to provide first aid in the field and pull suicides out of the other world is not the same thing. Leon would have thanked God if he had believed in him, convinced that blood loss was the least of the evils that you had caused yourself, until he saw the remains of some substance at the bottom of the glass that stood on the table along with an almost full bottle of alcohol.

You really didn't give him a chance.

The ambulance took several minutes, which seemed like an eternity. In fact, Leon wasn't sure if it was worth trying to make you vomit when you'd already lost so much blood that it was already seeping through the bandages. Surely you would need a transfusion and Leon is ready to give you all his blood if only you would wake up. Holding his breath, he carefully looked at your chest, watching whether you were breathing and fortunately, your heart was still beating, slowly, but it was still fighting for life.

He stroked you on the head, kissed you, promised that he would take you somewhere else, quiet, where no one would dare to offend you, even if it was your family. You could have just asked him for help, just cuddled up to him and he would have protected you from other people’s attacks, but you preferred to remain silent. Kennedy was tired of waiting for the medical staff to let him in, although relatives should be allowed to see the patient first, but the position of a government agent sometimes had its advantages, and they concerned not only the high salary. When he was let in to you, it seemed to him that you had become half your size while you were lying on the bed, curled up under the blanket. It didn’t work out to pull off a beautiful suicide, which meant that soon angry relatives would come here with new sweat of bile especially for you. They won’t care about your feelings, but Leon sat down next to you, trying not to intrude too much into the space in which you imprisoned yourself, as if this blanket cocoon could be a separate world where you could hide. He spoke to you carefully, hating himself for not being able to understand in time what was wrong with your behavior; perhaps if he had been more attentive to you, the incident could have been avoided. You would see a psychotherapist, take a course of medication, and your environment would definitely be taken care of.

You cry, not letting him come to you, hating how you weren't just left to die and how much you hate this world. Hysteria after hysteria, nervous breakdown after nervous breakdown, in the hospital you repeatedly tried to commit suicide, but the attentive staff managed to prevent this before you inflicted fatal injuries on yourself, and if after some time Leon still managed to carefully break through your armor, then your loved ones This did not concern relatives in principle. You only allowed one person to visit you while you were undergoing psychological treatment and you behaved calmer and calmer, listening to the velvety words that soon all this would be behind you.

“We’ll go home soon,” Leon smiled, gently holding your hand and kissing your forehead, just glad that you’re alive, that you’re breathing and that your psycho-emotional state is slowly but improving. “You know, I have a surprise for you, I think you’ll like it when we get home.”

Soon what happened will become another nightmare in his life, a blessing with a good ending, but for the sake of this happy ending, Kennedy is ready to descend into hell at least every day.

You nod at him and smile a little, fearing that the gift is some kind of party on the occasion of your discharge. In fact, the last thing you want is to see someone’s faces, especially those who diligently hammered into your head how insignificant you are. Why do you even hope that the doctor will postpone your discharge, but the plans for your further treatment were completely different.

On the other hand, after taking antidepressants and psychological help in a special medical institution, how many men are ready to stay with their girlfriends who have been there for several months? For Leon, it seems this was not a significant problem, or he simply carefully did not show it. However, there were no parties, no calls, you simply returned now to his home where there were new interior items. it became somehow more comfortable... but something else surprised you.

Puppy. A small puppy of a couple of months old ran towards you and Leon to meet both of them, but stopped and began sniffing your shoes, while something thawed in your heart.

“Animals seem to help us well, They feel when we feel bad, it seems to me a good idea to get us a little companion,” Leon said quietly, stroking your back while you were busy with the puppy, rejoicing at the little living soul who will love you with the same pure and devoted love.

Ultimately it should have a happy ending too. Leon is ready to go to great lengths so that his beloved songbird starts smiling and singing happy songs again, even if it is necessary to remove other birds from her family who sleep and see how to pluck all her wings again.

You and he also have a chance for a happy ending.

#leon kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy #resident evil #leon kennedy x reader #leon x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy resident evil #leon s kennedy x fem!reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon resident evil #resident evil leon

[smolvenger]

❤️Happy Birthday ❤️

🎉🎉🎉I hope you have a wonderful day 🎉🎉🎉

Please can I request a little blurb with Prince Hal and "touch her and you die" 😻😻😻

Thank you!

Why hello there! Thanks, I got a manicure and went to a bookshop and ate Italian food so it was great! And here is the blurb!

Rain Within Doors (Prince Hal x fem! Reader)

Summary: When the king falls ill, your betrothed, Prince Hal, returns.

Word Count: 1923

Warnings: some sexual harassment but the a-hole is saved in time, I try to keep it close to Shakespeare. Angst and fluff. I stole a line from Game of Thrones because it fit (the Shakespeare histories WERE kind of the Game of Thrones of their time minus the dragons and excessive exploitation of women)

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Taglist: @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @fandxmslxt69 @skittslackoffilter @mischief2sarawr

You waited anxiously and eagerly for your dear betrothed. He needed to hurry here. Things had all turned for the worse. 

Poor King Henry the Fourth was one minute at a table with all of you The Lord of Westmoreland arrived delivering the news of success in battle against Hotspur’s followers attempting to usurp the king. Everyone gasped. The lords who allied with Henry the Fourth were there- the Lord of Harcourt, Sir John Blunt, and others, all drooped their shoulders in relief. You, the younger two princes Thomas and Humphrey, The Lord of Warwick, and the King all smiled. The king shakily rose to praise Westmoreland

…then suddenly he began wheezing and fainted. 

Everyone gasped. Humphrey and Warwick met them on the grounds to give aid to the old king. Little Thomas cried for his father and you put him, your soon-to-be brother-in-law, in a hug, rubbing his back. 

“It’s all right, you know these fits happen often,” Warwick assumed, ever the voice of peace.

As the king came to, he was supported up. You were among the party to help settle him into bed. He asked the crown be placed on the pillow next to him with a raspy voice. And for musicians to play in the next room. Everyone complied.

You knew your betrothed had business in London. Even if it was in a bad place, he assured you it was nothing involving anything criminal (or whores) and that he would be back. The second eldest, Thomas, was dealing with the rebels with forces of his own and was on his way back.

“My lord, let me sit with you, so you need not be alone,” you offered, gathering a chair.

You had been sent here to marry the notorious Prince of Wales. Though you were nervous in this new castle, King Henry the Fourth was gentle with you. He welcomed you with a smile and open arms. The man who already considered you a daughter-in-law in his heart and the other princes saw you as a sister. He would let you dine with him and even play a little dice game with the family, smiling at you. Warmth on the face of the aged Bolingbroke- the lord who, long ago,  won the favor of the people so much it broke him out of exile and then thrust him into the role of king unexpectedly. Once Henry Bolingbroke, christened Henry the Fourth, wore shining golden armor as he rode on a horse. Paraded through the city as people threw flower petals at him.

Now how…weak he was! A shell of himself! Hardly the proud golden king anymore!

He reached out for your hand and you accepted it.

“Why-dear lady, I thank you. To think a pearl may be thrown to swine… to think my Harry should of all men be your husband…” he wheezed.  

“My lord, you must know- your eldest son has not….treated me poorly.” 

You didn’t know him well- the beautiful, fiery, mischievous, wild prince Henry- or Harry as called by his friends or family. Or Hal as those thieves and whores so affectionately called him.

This was to be a marriage for alliance and station, not of affection. When you arrived, you expected a frivolous, drinking, philandering Baccus. But Hal…. he was kind to you. He always smiled at you and called you sweet names. He was rumored to spend time studying in libraries more than drinking. One time, he found a romantic poem, copied it on paper, and gave it to you as a lover’s token. It touched you- who knew how he would fare as king but you felt he would make at least a decent husband!

“Just rest my lord, please,” you asked. The king indeed settled.

You walked out to the hallway to face the others. They peeked in and soon saw his eyes were closed, but he was breathing. The musicians in the next room played such calm, nearly dreamlike melodies compared to the anxiety storming inside of your being. 

Soon enough, the king settled into a deep sleep. You smiled a little- poor Henry the Fourth was a notorious insomniac, wandering the castle in the late hours from his racing worries. That should give him some relief and help with his sickness. 

But to think…here you were about to watch that old man die. Die before you could officially call him family.  

A couple of tears fell, and you walked out to the hallway staring out. It was a cold, bitter day. The winter chill stinging the glass window when you touched it.

But there was a sound- hooves.

When you leaned closer to the window, you let out a gasp. 

Hal was here in a long, beautiful black and red cape on a beautiful black horse as if he were about to rescue a damsel. And behind him a couple of others. You covered your mouth but felt a smile on your lips.

Picking up your skirts, you hurried down to the others in the outer hall. Warwick was hushing the two boys from talking too loud, to watch over the king in his sleep. 

“Humphrey! Thomas! He’s back!” you whispered.

“Who?” replied Thomas. 

They turned and then heard Hal’s voice asking for him. You and the others hurried there.

In the torch-lit hallway, your eyes feasted on Hal. The most beautiful man you had ever seen with the most deliciously fitted black velvet doublet, swooping off his cape with a gallantry that made your insides tingle.

He turned and went to you first.

“How now, My most fair lady?”

“Oh, much worried but cheered by your return, my lord,” you replied.

Hal’s eyes softened at you, then he looked at his crying brothers- Humphrey and Thomas.

“What- all of this rain in of door when it should be out of doors? How is the king?” Hal asked.

“ Exceeding ill” explained Humphrey sadly.

“Please be quiet, His grace is asleep,” warned the Lord of Warwick. 

Hal requested to see his father, and the lord of Warwick led him to the bed.

Everyone hushed and walked out to the other room, keeping quiet to give the king as much rest as he needed. Everyone worried. It was all so much- you needed some space.

With your heart calming, you went to one hallway, hugging yourself to look at how the moon shone over the winter evening through the windows. 

The Lord Harcourt went up to you. An older man with sharp cheekbones and a sharp chin, a pale face, and dark eyes. You only knew him as an ally and advisor to the king.  As you stood alone, staring out the window.

“Good evening, Lady Y/N.” he greeted.

“Good evening, my lord,” you replied. 

“You do look rather lovely tonight in the moonlight,” he complimented.

Already you felt uneasy. Alone with him, when all the others were fretting over the king. You began to take a step to return.

“You…you flatter me, my lord, thank you.”

Right as you turned, the lord reached an arm from his rich, velvet clothes and grabbed you.

“It seems a shame for such a fine lady to be wasted upon riotous Harry. I should have had you for my wife instead.”

“My lord, then wait until the king awakens and discuss it with him and announce you will-will-will court me openly like a gentleman,” you blubbered out, though you were starting to get scared.

He tried to sweetly, seductively brush your cheek but you had enough and swatted it away.

“Oh! The lady is a bit too cold, methinks.”

“And a lady is treated with respect, sir! My lord, please let me go.  I must attend on his majesty.”

“Your drunken oaf of an intended is waiting on him, who is going to stop!”

“But you are a fool! Please, let me leave!”

He backed you up until you were in a corner. Your heart pounded hard.

“Please- my lord, I swear, do not do anything that might insult my honor! I don’t want to-Please!” you cried.

“Then be not so fair and tempt a man to sin! And you have tempted me long enough. The one crown Prince Hal is deserving of is the Cuckhold’s horns.”

“Please, my lord- let me go!” you begged. 

To your horror, you felt a thin, clawlike hand reach for your leg under your skirt, then up, trying to lower your bodice to show your breasts. You squirmed, but one arm held you back.

“No, my lady. I want a see what I could be enjoying on our wedding night.”

He placed a hand over your mouth so you couldn’t scream. Tears welled up in you. 

With a free hand, though it shook, you slapped him hard. 

His hand dropped. He was shocked you were going to fight back. You tried to flee when he grabbed you back, ready to drag you off and force you to strip or do more when-

“Release yourself from the Princess of Wales right now!” threatened your intended.

Hal hurried in and grabbed the lord. He then took out his dagger, pointing it to your attacker’s chest. You jumped off and went behind Hal.

“What- my lord!” the lord was shocked that dishonorable, silly Prince Hal was capable of this. Then he scoffed. 

“She is not yet your wife-” he argued. 

“She is your princess and soon- your queen!” Hal reminded him.

The Lord of Harcourt pointed to where you stood and backed away behind Hal.

“She’s-she was trying to seduce me! The Lady is nothing but a common strumpet”

Hal punched him in the face. You let out a gasp. The Lord nursed his cheek. But Hal kept his dagger up at him. You heard footsteps and murmurs as the others went into the room. The younger Lancaster brothers staying by you loyally. The lords turned pale and slack-jawed.

“You are not welcome in this court until after our marriage. And then you will have to beg to be let in. And If you ever lay a hand on that sweet lady again, it will be the last time you have hands!” Hal barked at him.

The Lord of Harcourt shook and then relented, bowing his head. 

“Now, flee. Before I decide to persuade my father to behead you when he awakes.”

The lord fled into the shadows, a few attendants seeing him out. The others asked after you, but it was Hal who boldly embraced you. It was quite intimate for court protocol, but when had Hal ever done what everyone expected?

 “He-He frightened me.” you choked out.

“You need not be frightened, my lady, you’ll be safe. Did he hurt you? Do anything?” Hal questioned.

“He groped my leg, and tried to take my dress off, but no more. You caught him before more could be done. I-I -I promise you, Hal, I never intended to seduce him in any way! Do you believe me?”

Hal clasped your hands in his.

“Why would I not believe my dearest lady?” Hal replied.

Full of emotion, you leaned down and kissed them. Hal’s mouth opened a little and he smiled at you. He cupped your cheek sweetly. 

The party returned to wait on the king. You saw Hal was pale, but you kept your hand clasped in his as you walked back.

For as uncertain as this time was, no matter what the next day or hour could bring, you had each other and could endure it side by side.

#prince hal x reader #tom hiddleston #carrie writes #angst with a happy ending #prince hal #the hollow crown #king henry v #william shakespeare #henry iv part ii #henry iv part 2 #prince hal imagine #prince hal fanfiction #smut #tom hiddleston characters #fanfiction #fic writing #fanfics #birthday blurbs #touch her and you die #prince hal x you #prince hal x fem! reader #prince hal x y/n #prince hal x fem! y/n

[drunkewok]

Tiger Inside Chapter Thirty

Stray Kids Mafia (ongoing)

Masterlist

Likes, reblogs and feedback always greatly appreciated

WC: 5k

Pairing: Lee Know x reader

Genre: Series, Enemies to lovers, non-idol AU, Mafia AU

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, drinking, swearing, graphic depictions of violence, weapons

Disclaimer: Any portrayal of Stray Kids or any other idols in this story is purely fiction and do not at all reflect their own personalities or how I view them as a person, it is purely for the sake of the story.

Please do not copy or repost my work

Minho POV

“Tell me it was necessary. Tell me we didn’t just leave him there to save our own asses.” Minho slowly turned to Chan as the front door slammed behind you, leaving him and Chan on their own in the dark driveway.

“It was necessary.” Chan refused to break his stare towards the door, trying to remain stoic as his voice dropped to a quiet whisper “It's what he wanted.”

Minho let out a deep sigh. Chan's calls had never led them astray before, always with the best interest of the group in mind. It's why even with Chan’s silent communication, Minho hadn't hesitated to do as he was told for even a moment. The trust built between the two was unbreakable. An unspoken bond that would permanently tie them together. 

“We’re gonna have some repercussions to deal with.”

Chan looked out to the street with a deep breath, trying to hide the attempt to keep himself steady before dropping his head and running his hands through his hair.

“You should head inside. Wash up, get some rest. If you can.” His eyes stayed focused on his shoes, refusing to look toward Minho.

“You too.” Minho tried his best to pull himself up the stairs of the home, only just now starting to feel the exhaustion in his bones from such a high strung night. 

It was moments like this that the close proximity of his bedroom was beneficial. Being the only member with their bedroom on the ground floor, his door only a sharp turn to the left allowing him to slip in discreetly before letting himself fall backwards onto his bed.

He blinked as he stared up to the blank ceiling, trying to finally process everything that had just occurred. His lids were promptly growing heavy, and he allowed himself just a moment to slowly close them. Fighting off sleep before he had the ability to wash off any remnants of the night.

Minho finally pulled himself from the bed, flipping on the shower and letting the water slowly start to heat. 

He tried to fight off the sickening feeling in his gut as he stared at himself in the mirror. He looked down to his shirt, accepting the blood staining deemed it worthless to keep. He forcefully finally undid his tie. And one by one, he unfastened the buttons, tossing the shirt to the side.

Letting the hot water run down his back, he settled his head on the shower wall. Just trying to keep himself awake and coherent until he could fall back into his bed once more.

“Can I get a little help here!?” Minho’s head snapped in the direction of Hyunjin’s voice, a heaving and weak Jisung supported in his arms. Minho looked back to you, only just now seeing the state of your hands as his head shot between you and Jisung, his mind torn both directions. 

“Stay here, I’ll be right back.” Minho tried to give a soft squeeze to your shoulder with a nod before stepping away. He took Jisung’s arm over his shoulder, releasing his weight from Hyunjin before scooping his legs up and hustling him over to one of the waiting vans.

Minho settled Jisung into the seat, his eyes quickly falling on his wounded thigh.

“What happened?”

“Jongho.” Jisung grunted as he tried to pull himself up to adjust in the seat. “They knew we were posted.” 

He let out a pained hiss immediately as Minho began applying pressure to the wound, a string of curses leaving his mouth. Minho lifted his head, not letting the pressure fail as he scanned the surroundings for anyone he could send in your direction, not wanting you left by yourself.

His eyes met Changbin’s, quickly trying to nod his head in your direction, praying he’d understand the instruction and tend to you in your insentient state. Only once he saw him heading toward you did his attention turn back to Jisung.

“Was it just Jongho that came up on you guys?” 

“Only him. I saw him come up on Jisung a moment too late.” Minho hadn’t noticed Hyunjin coming up beside him, pulling both his and Jisung’s rifles from off his back and setting them in the van. “I was able to fight him off though, but not before he got the shot in on him.” 

“That twat.” Jisung grumbled “I really didn’t need to deal with this right now.”

“Hyunjin, go to Seungmin’s kit, I need a tourniquet.” Minho turned back to him, nodding towards the other van.

He ran off without a second thought, quickly digging through the first-aid kit. Minho finally looked up to Jisung’s face, twisting in pain as he tried to breathe through it.

“You really let him get the best of you again?”

“Oh fuck off.” Jisung spit out in an instant.

“Such foul language” Minho chuckled as Hyunjin hopped back to his side, handing over the tourniquet and allowing Minho to apply it around Jisung’s thigh above the entrance wound. “Seungmin will get you properly handled once we get back to the house. Hyunjin, can you stay with him until Seungmin gets over here?” 

Minho held his hand out to Jisung as he rolled over in his bed, grabbing the small first-aid kit from his nightstand.

“Hyung… I can do it myself.”

“Oh hush. Just let me help you.” Minho pulled the bandages from Jisung's hand, carefully observing the wound as he unwound the old wrappings from his leg.

Minho had been finding himself hunkering away in Jisung's room quite often since that night. They distracted themselves with movies or video games. Anything that diverted their attention from the quiet tension sitting in the house. 

Every so often, Minho would try and knock on your door. But the moment you were aware it was him on the other side you’d go silent, a clear indication of your desire for him to leave. He eventually tried to keep himself as far from your door as possible, hoping if he kept his distance he wouldn’t be tempted to try once more.

He pulled the kit to the edge of the bed beside him, fingers digging through it in a search that was coming up fruitless. 

“Are you out of gauze pads already?”

“I might have used the last one this morning, I'm not sure.” 

With a sigh, Minho pulled himself from the bed, heading towards the door.

“I'll go get a restock from Seungmin then.” He stopped before leaving, turning back with a teasing grin. “I'd say don't go anywhere, but I don't think I need to worry about that.”

“Hey! Don't underestimate my speed on crutches!” 

With a quiet chuckle, Minho pulled the door behind him, still leaving it slightly ajar for his return and still able to hear Jisung’s grumbles from inside.

The house still sat in a dull darkness, the lively energy usually filling the home quite lack-luster. It had been a while since the group had been dealt cards like this, their missions not commonly resulting in a such mental hit. But as he reached the top of the stairs, a door slowly opened further down the hall, the faintest glow coming from inside your room. 

Minho stood frozen in his spot for a moment, bracing himself for you to finally step out of your hiding and face the world. Yet your figure was not the one coming into view, the shoulders of the silhouette far too broad to be your own. 

Changbin quietly pulled the door closed behind him, holding the handle in place to prevent any click of it falling into place. Without notice of Minho down the hall, he quietly slipped into his room just next to yours, letting the door shut behind him. 

Minho's jaw tensed as he tried to push the thoughts from his mind. What had Changbin been doing in your room? You had allowed him in yet let all of Minho's attempts go ignored? 

He stopped himself from impulsively knocking on Changbin's door, prompting an interrogation. Instead continuing downstairs, the mission of retrieving gauze long forgotten as he tried to keep you far from his thoughts. 

He flipped the light on in the kitchen, possibly searching for a source of distraction in a bite to eat. Yet those hopes were quickly squashed as Changbin entered behind him, freshly changed into more comfortable clothes. 

Minho watched as he put the kettle on the stove, preparing two mugs of tea in silence. 

He leaned back against the counter as he stayed quiet, just watching all of Changbin's moves. Contemplating if he should speak up. 

“You were with y/n.” The words came out of his mouth before he had a chance to stop them, Minho's voice coming out more flat than intended. The hint of irritation poorly hidden behind his words.

“Hmm?” Changbin looked up from his drink, subtle bags under his eyes as he glanced toward Minho, processing what he said. “Oh, yeah. She hasn't slept in three days. Her nightmares are atrocious.”

He rubbed his eyes as he settled into a stool at the island, rolling his head around in an attempt to stretch his neck.

“I was just trying to provide her some company so she could finally fall asleep.”

“Her nightmares?” Minho blinked as he stared at Changbin, brows slightly scrunching in confusion.

“Yeah… between losing him and the fire… she's having flashbacks like crazy. It's breaking my heart seeing her like this.”

“The fire too?”

“Do…do you not know?” 

It felt as though Minho was at a loss for words, not a single one coming to the surface as he simply responded with a shake of the head. 

“Her and her mom were stuck in a fire when she was younger. This whole thing has woken up a lot of memories.”

Minho couldn't comprehend the multiple emotions that hit him at once as he stood frozen. He shouldn't feel the twinge of irritation that you allowed Changbin into your space, that you were looking to him for comfort. Felix he could understand, but since when had you grown so close to Changbin?

Enough to break down your walls and teach him of your past, enough to let him in, things you didn't search for in Minho.

Was it irritation? Or was this hurt he was experiencing?

He tried to shove the thoughts to the back of his mind, this couldn't be anything more than a simple surprise. There was no justification for these feelings. 

Of course you wouldn't reach your hand out to him. He had said it before, he worked for you. And he had led you away from the last person you had in his dying moments. He had betrayed you. 

“You okay?” 

Minho blinked away his daze as he looked up to Changbin, watching as his fingers played with the handle of his mug as he studied Minho's face.

He wasn't sure how long he had allowed himself to get lost in his thoughts, blissfully zoning out and no longer aware of the person sitting in front of him. 

“I… yeah. I'm fine.” Without another glance toward Changbin, Minho left the kitchen. Heading back up the stairs towards Jisung's room, the gauze long forgotten. 

Minho had started to notice the distinct lack of Chan within the house. Whenever he did show his face, he only spoke enough to explain he was busy. Formulating excuse after excuse to avoid any conversation with the members.

Minho left three knocks on the wood door, waiting for Chan's voice to usher him in.

“Not now.” Chan’s voice was groggy on the other side, just barely loud enough to make out.

“Chan. I’m coming in.” Without further debate from Chan’s end, Minho took it as his invitation to enter.

He looked disheveled behind his desk, the days since the incident clearly leaving him a mess as well. His hand was sitting atop a short glass, face buried in his other settled on his desk. 

Minho slowly stepped in, quietly shutting the door behind him before taking a seat in front of Chan. 

The two sat in silence, neither daring to speak a word as the heavy air draped around them. Minho was all too familiar with Chan turning himself into a recluse in times of stress, shutting himself in his office with no distractions. 

“You reek.” Minho was the first to break the silence, Chan's head slowly lifting to finally meet his gaze with a soulless chuckle. 

“That's what leadership smells like, Min.” He held his glass up in a weak toast, before bringing it to his lips, whispering to himself. “Smells like pain and regret.”

“And apparently gin.” 

Chan hissed through his teeth as the last of the alcohol burned its way down his throat. He placed the glass back onto his desk, rubbing his face in his hands almost as if he was trying to re-center himself.

“You said it was necessary.” Minho's eyes focused on the empty glass sitting on the desk, making a mental note to himself of the need to be checking on Chan more often.

“It was. Doesn't make the decision any easier though.” Chan reached out, grabbing the bottle, before refilling his glass. “Have you spoken to her at all?” Chan looked up to him, his own sleepless nights manifesting in dark bags under his eyes. 

Minho couldn't find the words to respond, instead opting to shake his head and stare down to the hands settled in his lap. Chan leaned back in his chair, eyes focusing on the stillness outside.

“I've tried, but she shuts me out every time.” Chan gave out a long sigh as he settled his hands upon the armrests, finger slightly tapping away and acting upon its own accord.

Minho knew Chan would be eating himself alive with guilt over what happened. Nights probably consisting of tossing and turning in fruitless attempts to fall asleep 

“You're the only one who will be able to get through to her. You realize that, right?”

Minho’s brows furrowed as he looked up to him finally, mindlessly giving him a discreet roll of the eyes.

“She's just as mad at me as she is at you. Besides-” Minho couldn’t help the subtle scoff that came out of him as his gaze broke towards the windows ”-Changbin seems to be comforting her just fine.”

“You seem bothered by that.”

“What? No. Not in the slightest.” Minho leaned back in the chair, arms crossed in front of his chest. “I'm glad she has someone.”

“Good job, that was really convincing.”

Chan stood from his seat, circling around his desk and leaning against the front of it, just steps away from Minho.

“You have to accept at some point that you two need each other” 

“Oh please.” Minho rolled his eyes as he still avoided looking toward Chan, stuffing his hands deep in his pockets to suppress any nervous fidgeting. “She doesn’t need me. She’s got Felix, Jinnie and… Bin. She’s strong. She’ll be fine.”

“Is that what you need then? For her to be strong? Strong, so she doesn’t get hurt like-”

“Don't!” Minho was far too quick to snap, voice raising on its own as his wall immediately shot up into place. His hands were subconsciously tightening into fists, blood now pumping loudly in his ears. “Don’t bring her into this.” 

“They aren’t the same person, you know?”

“Of course I fucking know!”

Minho was no stranger to the collapsing of your world. Holding a loved one close as you screamed and prayed to the skies for a different outcome. Begging and pleading for this not to be the harsh reality. The topic had become taboo to speak of, Minho wanting to keep it distant in his rearview to prevent it from swallowing him alive.

Chan’s eyes fell, a deep breath manifesting in a sigh as his arms crossed in front of his chest, his head rolling to the side as he stared out the window. He had fully been expecting the brick wall that Minho turned into, a common sign of breaching a topic he would rather avoid.

“Then what’s this really about, huh? You can’t sleep, you can’t eat, you can’t stop checking in the direction of her room every time you hear footsteps. What is it, Min?”

“I’m not doing this right now.” With a scoff, Minho rose from his seat, quickly heading for the door without giving Chan a second glance.

“You can’t just keep running from this Minho” Chan’s voice was soft, laced with concern as he called out from behind, watching as Minho stormed out of the room.

The door slammed shut behind him, his feet working on their own accord and trying to pull him far away from the house. His heart was pounding in his chest as his fingers fumbled around his key fob in the cold, struggling to unlock the doors of his car. 

He had no destination in mind as the car roared to life, putting it into reverse as quickly as he could and pulling away from the home. All he knew was that he needed as much distance as possible between him and whatever roof you were currently housed under. 

The audacity Chan possessed to even entertain the thought that he knew what was going on inside Minho’s mind, what emotions he was possibly developing or processing. Like he knew him better than himself.

His hand gripped the wheel tightly, white knuckles starting to form as his grip grew rigid. His other hand rubbed against his forehead, elbow resting on the door. 

The sky swirled together with shades of pink and purple, the winter days providing minimal daylight. The fading sun danced across the snow littering the ground, specks of glittery reflections drowning in the glow of sunset.

I felt as though his mind was screaming, yet not a single coherent thought pushed its way through. Mindless ramblings blending together to form a jumbled mess. 

The farther he reached into town, he just kept taking a turn whenever his body insisted, letting the road take him wherever was far away. Minho wasn’t quite sure where he had ended up, but the confines of the vehicle quickly felt like they were closing in on him, suffocating him and making it hard to breathe.

He just needed out.

Pulling the car to the curb, he hastily threw his door open and stumbled out. The crisp air felt like it was cooling every burning nerve in his body, and finally leveling his spinning head. He blinked as he stared up towards the sky, sparse flakes of snow quietly falling across his cheek.  

Minho tucked his hands deep in his pockets to avoid the chill, head turning up and down the sidewalk to observe those passing by. He let his feet take him wherever felt necessary, wandering the unknown streets aimlessly until he felt he could think straight enough to step foot back in the house.

Rounding the next turn, Minho stopped abruptly in his tracks. Only now, that he stopped to take in the buildings around him, did he realize that his scenery was one he recognized.

He was in Gangnam, on a particular street far too familiar.

Pushing himself forward, he stopped once he reached the entry of the alley. Looking ahead of him, the unrecognizable charred remains of Blossom stood wrapped in endless tape to keep prying eyes out. 

He's not completely sure what compelled him to pull a piece of caution tape aside, ducking below it and stepping into the rubble. 

It was a bit shocking just how much of Blossom had been engulfed before emergency services were able to extinguish the blaze. The building was ominously quiet, in stark contrast to the last night they were there. The beautiful dark wood was now charred and black, shards of broken glass littering the floor. 

The alcohol had been used to fuel the flames, surely the ingredient to blame for how angry and all encompassing it became. 

Minho shoved his hands back in his pockets, shuffling a piece of rubble in front of him with his foot. 

You were probably blaming yourself for the turn of events, the one who had initiated the meeting in the first place. But Minho knew it wasn't your fault, you can never properly predict the outcome, not when It pertains to the mafia. 

We all eventually get burned.

The hallway in the back corner was shrouded in darkness, the little bit of light shining in the building refusing to bend around walls and illuminate the dark crevice.

Yet when he approached it, it felt lit just like when he had walked up before, almost like he could watch the scene play out once more on the silver screen. 

His eyes had fallen on you and Chan first, him clutching you tightly to his chest as the two of you were slumped on the floor. He hadn't even initially noticed Seungmin hunched over Seongho against the wall, his eyes now following the same path as if he was reliving those moments. His body was now long gone from its previous location, clearly having been removed after the blaze had been extinguished.

He may have had a rough start with Seongho, but he slowly grew to be quite fond of the guy once they got to know each other more. He truly, always, had your best interest in mind. He cared for you on such a deep level that it made Minho glad to know you at least had him through your years hidden away from your family.

Seongho was your family.

Minho was completely unaware of just how much standing in that hallway was affecting him, until a single tear found its way rolling down his cheek.

He whispered a soft fuck under his breath as he tried to wipe it away, hoping to wipe away whatever emotions were currently overtaking him. 

He couldn't stay here, this was too much.

He pulled the tape away as he stepped out of the rubble, taking a deep breath of fresh air as he tried to blink away whatever moisture was trying to form on his lash line. 

The streets were still decently populated, the stores only just now starting to shut their doors one by one for the night. 

Yet as he passed a window display, still brightly lit in the sunset, his attention was caught by a single face with button eyes staring back at him.

“Remember that stuffed bear I got you? And how distraught you were when you lost it?”

Seongho's drunk voice echoed on a loop in Minho's brain, a broken record of a tease now morphing into a suggestion. It led him straight to where he now stood, in the middle of a toy aisle, staring down an endless array of stuffed animals completely lost as to which one to choose.

He'd pick one up, feeling like he had finally made his decision, before the doubt settled back in and he would replace it to the shelf.

Would it even help? Could it provide you even the smallest bit of comfort?

He ran his fingers through his hair, stressing himself out about what should be the most simple of decisions, but none of them felt right. 

A lone stuffed animal sat on the end of the shelf, by itself without another for company. Minho reached out, picking up the soft white bunny as its ears flopped over. His hands squeezed it as a twinge of pain settled in his chest at the thought of Seongho.

It's what he would have wanted.

The cashier ran the bunny across the scanner with a harsh beep, then holding it in front of her and staring at it with a smile. 

“He's so cute! Is he a gift?” She asked with a soft tilt of the head.

Minho pulled himself from his thoughts, finally looking up to her, then to the bunny, responding quietly. 

“Uh, yeah.” 

“That's so sweet of you” she grinned as she set the bunny to the side, watching as Minho swiped his card. She leaned forward slightly, and spoke just above a whisper. “She's gonna love it.” 

She pulled the receipt from the register, handing Minho the bunny along with the long piece of paper. 

“I sure hope she will.” 

Minho surely had been the store's last guest of the night. Because as he exited, he could hear the soft click of a lock behind him. 

He held the bunny in front of him, thumbs running across its soft tummy as he looked into its eyes. 

He let out a soft chuckle as he returned it to his side. It was surely his first time purchasing a stuffed animal, and all he could hope for is that it would do you some good. 

Although before returning back to his car, he decided on one more destination he needed to visit. One more thing he needed to bring home for you. 

The bell chimed as he opened the door, the familiar white walls and tiled floors reflecting the hard fluorescent lights.

On cue, an elderly woman stepped out from the back, summoned by the bell. She smiled brightly at Minho, beckoning him over to a table with a menu in hand.

“Come in Dear! What can I get for you?” She radiated such warmth, it made sense why you enjoyed her company so much as you devoured your bowls of ramen beside Seongho during your late nights. 

Minho stepped forward to her, trying to force as much of a smile as he could in the moment. 

“I actually need an order to go, but I'm not quite sure what I should be ordering if I'm being honest. By chance, do you remember your regular, Siu?” 

The woman's face lit up once more, her smile growing even further across her cheeks. 

“Of course I remember sweet Siu!” Minho could see something click in her face as she studied his own, her hand quickly settling on his arm “You're that handsome man who came with her the last time she was here! How's she doing?”

“She um,” Minho tried to clear his throat, eyes falling on the menu in her hand before meeting hers again. “She's having a bit of a rough time right now. I was hoping to bring her some ramen to cheer her up, but I'm not quite sure what she usually orders.” 

“Of course of course!” She shuffled away toward the counter, clicking something into the register. “I should only be a moment, let me get that prepared for her and boxed up.” She disappeared into the back once more, leaving Minho in the empty restaurant.

He settled into a seat against the wall, setting the bunny on the table and propping it up. It was like he had fallen into a staring contest with an inanimate object, daring it to blink before him.

Was there the chance that Chan was right? Was he pushing you away to prevent himself from getting burned once more? Were you the strong flame he was too scared to tempt himself into reaching out for? 

Before he had the chance to fall too deeply into his thoughts, Mrs. Park shuffled back into the room, bag in hand. She pulled a drink from the lit fridge and settled the two on the table in front of him. 

“How much do I owe you?”

“Nothing at all Dear, it's on the house. Just tell Siu we miss her and Seongho, They need to pay me a visit more often.” 

Seongho. That one hurt. 

She shooed him out of his seat, ushering him towards the door. 

“Now go, don't let that ramen sit too long. She needs it to heal her.” Mrs. Park picked up the bunny, handing it to Minho alongside the bag. “And don't forget your little friend either.” She smiled as she waved him off, Minho giving her a soft bow and a thank you. 

The house was quiet when he finally made his way back. The rest of the group only left their rooms when necessary, everyone still processing what occurred nights prior. 

Minho climbed the stairs, taking the turn down the hall towards your door, a tight bundle of nerves settling in his stomach.

He wasn't completely sure why he was so anxious. Would you scream and yell at the sight of him? Surely he was still on thin ice with you, but hopefully the warm ramen wouldn't melt it directly beneath his feet. 

He hesitated before his fist made contact with your door, finally mustering up the courage but only met with silence from the other side. 

Faintly he could hear the sound of running water in the pipes, pressing his ear to the door to hear it coming from your room. 

You were in the shower. He was glad to at least know you were still taking care of yourself in some way, no matter how small it may be.

He slowly opened your door, peeking to ensure your bathroom door was shut to avoid startling you with the accidental viewing of you in your privacy. 

He slipped in, settling the bunny against your pillows, and placing your bag of ramen along with your drink on your nightstand with a deep breath.

Hearing the shower shut off, he quickly shuffled out of the room. There surely wouldn't be room to rebuild your trust if you stepped out to find him in your room without having been welcomed in. 

He wasn't sure if you would receive this as his peace offering, an apology for his actions. But whether you accepted him or not, he didn't care. He just wanted you to feel the same comfort and care that you provided for others.

Next Chapter

Taglist:

@leagreenly @jamlessstars @moonlight-the-writer @ishz @minbinboo @felixslostfreckle @venusmoonxnight @caillout24

#stray kids mafia #stray kids #skz mafia #skz #lee know x reader #lee know enemies to lovers #bang chan #lee know #changbin #hyunjin #han #felix #seungmin #jeongin #fanfiction #stray kids freeze #lee know mafia #lee know mafia au #alternate universe #lee know fic #drunkewok #tiger inside

[lanasblood]

𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐁𝐎𝐘 | Chapter 1: Skyracer

pairing: neteyam x f!reader

summary: after fate brought you to awa’atlu and you felt hope for the first time in so long, the sea became the lonely witness of a bittersweet love, making you quickly realize how life withers as fast as it blossoms.

word count: 4.9k

warnings: it's the remix. please check here and read at your own risk.

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in the depths of my mind, I kept you hidden, a treasure too priceless to be revealed, for your soul is pure, your beauty unbidden, a rose in the fields, unconquered, unconcealed.

On the night when it all began, the sky stretched above, clear and serene, while a gentle breeze rustled through the air. The moon, a slender crescent, cast its ethereal glow upon the dense forests of Pandora, drawing intricate shadows upon the tents nestled amidst the towering trees. Its radiance danced upon the still surface of the deserted lake, while the forest itself seemed adorned with a tapestry of fallen leaves and meandering vines.

Your body felt weak, your heartbeat faltered, its rhythm growing feeble, and your pulse felt strangely sluggish. With a heavy sigh escaping your lips, you sank down onto the ground, your trembling hands finding their way to the tangles of your hair. The wind, mischievous in its playful dance, toyed with the fabric of your loincloth and the flowers and feathers that adorned your form, teasing and loosening a single strand from the intricately braided locks that Kiri had graced with delicate handcrafted beads that evening.

With a desperate gesture, you pressed the balls of your hands firmly against your closed eyes, seeking respite from the world. Colors of light and dark swirled in a dizzying dance behind your lids, creating a kaleidoscope of sensations. The sharp pain that had taken residence above your temples intensified, causing another low, pained sigh to escape from your chapped lips, as if carrying the weight of your weariness.

You heard your name before you felt his hand on your arm, his knee touched yours and for a brief moment, your heart almost completely stopped. You couldn't bring yourself to look at him yet; your eyes were strangely veiled, as if they were watering. "What's going on?"

There was an uncomfortable metallic taste in your mouth, and you carefully put your hand to your lips, only to discover the crimson evidence of blood trickling on your lips from your nose. Images of that night were difficult to push aside anyway, but in connection with the headache, it was almost impossible to suppress the onslaught of memories. 

You cursed under your breath, your voice cracked and feeble, as you looked up at Lo'ak with an awkward expression.

"Bro—" Lo'ak's voice trailed off as his eyebrows shot up, his gaze shifting to the blood on your hand and then on your face. Swiftly, he retrieved a cloth that was secured to his side near his hunting knife. "Take this, it's clean. I only used it to polish my knife."

Gratefully, you accepted the cloth and pressed it against your nose to stem the bleeding.

"You need to see Tsahìk," he said softly, his eyes fixed on your profile.

"That's—" you began to protest, but the pain cut through your words. It hit you suddenly and with greater intensity than before, almost violently, leaving you gasping for breath. You attempted to stand, but your knees gave way, and you slumped down. Lo'ak struggled to keep you upright, his arms straining to support you.

"You have to see Tsahìk," he repeated, and you could only weakly shake your head. Blood trickled down your chin in thin lines, dripping onto the edge of your upper piece, leaving dark-red stains on the feathers. "You've been feeling unwell all evening. I'm worried about you."

That's how he was, Lo'ak Sully. Caring and considerate, not towards everyone, actually towards no one, but towards a selected few, including you. Instead of enjoying the celebration held in his honor, he had barely left your side throughout the evening. Even now, he preferred sitting with you rather than accepting another drinking challenge. In two days, he would embark on another journey to the Eastern Sea as the Tulkun Season was about to begin, and you wouldn't be able to see him for a long, long time. Actually, you should be grateful; missing him would only be temporary, and you would have something to look forward to. Five years ago, when you thought you would never see the Sully's again, it looked quite different. Back then, external circumstances had forced them to leave your clan and seek shelter far away in the East, leaving you with a void deep inside you. Fortunately, those external circumstances had been resolved by now, and Lo'ak, he was both Omatikaya and Metkayina now, being the bridge between the two clans, with the tattoo on his side below his cummerbund serving as proof. You were very proud of him and loved listening to his stories about his other friends and adventures. However, the farewell was close, meaning until his return in six moons, you would miss him, so much. 

"You're drunk," you managed to say with difficulty. Speaking was incredibly hard for you, and the words felt fragile on your lips. "The village is over an hour away. And I won't let you fly; I'd rather die a wretched death out here."

"As charming as ever," Lo'ak muttered but secretly agreed. "Y/n, I... Can you stand up?" Of course, you couldn't. He presumably realized that in the next moment. "I'm going to quickly run back to the party, and you'll wait for me to return, okay? I'll hurry, I promise. Do you understand me?"

Your nod came seconds too late; he had already headed back toward the direction of loud music and youthful laughter. The vibrations reached the ground, shaking the earth beneath you. You could faintly hear Kiri's laughter as someone played the blue flute in the background. The spots danced before your eyes without you having to close them, and while the pain in your temples had eased, every sudden movement felt like your skull was about to explode.

A small group of young Na'vi passed by on the other side, maybe ten meters away from you, laughing and drinking while heading straight into the forest, but without noticing you; two couples, maybe a year or two older than you, with their hands clasped and bottles sharing.

The following thought brought a crooked smile to your lips and, inexplicably, tears to your eyes. But it was true. Pathetic as it may seem at first glance, all you wanted was to be truly loved, to have your mate by your side; a man with a strong heart who would love you like Jake loved Neytiri, who would call you beautiful even in the mornings when you woke up with messy hair and a puffy face; who would create a safe haven in his arms, where you could be vulnerable and share your deepest secrets; who would make you laugh with his infectious sense of humor, turning ordinary moments into extraordinary memories; who would hold your heart in his hands and cherished it as if it were his own, loving you unconditionally, flaws and all, reminding you that you are enough. Sometimes, more than anything, you wished for that to happen. And on those days, even Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk'itan seemed somewhat attractive with his fleeting, almost coy smile directed towards yet another girl.

Another girl, yes. By now you were convinced that not just the girls but your whole clan had developed a crush, no matter how tiny or big, on the golden boy, and he liked that, of course, he did, he loved the attention and praise from almost anyone; almost, leaving you to possibly be the only person in the whole village who he wouldn't willingly exchange a word with. Not that you minded, on the contrary, you'd never gotten along with Neteyam since you were kids and you knew that it was mutual. 

It wasn't that you had never been in love before, experiencing the euphoria and joy of a promising and fulfilling future ahead. But once your heart had been shattered, it became challenging for you to trust in someone else's words, no matter how beautifully spoken. This is why stepping out of your comfort zone felt incredibly difficult for you.

"We're back," Lo'ak's voice interrupted your thoughts, and as he helped you up, you realized who we referred to. Indeed, Neteyam Sully stood before you, holding the saddle for his ikran, and looked down at you, almost with a hint of pity.

"Why him of all people?" you grumbled, giving Lo'ak a weary glance. You felt like tears were ready to spill at any moment. "What about Kiri?"

"I didn't want to interrupt Kiri in her debate on equality versus equity against that flute guy. Plus, Neteyam is probably the only one around here who isn't too drunk to fly."

"No one?" you exclaimed, unable to hide your disbelief. However, before you could receive a proper answer, Neteyam himself lifted you onto his ikran, who rested a few meters away beneath the canopy of flower trees, alongside the other majestic creatures. With a swift motion that would typically have prompted an eye roll of annoyance — your current state sadly left no room for such sentiments — he positioned himself right behind you, his presence uncomfortably close, your thighs almost touching. He gently patted his ikran on the head to greet him, before he encircled your waist with his arms in a way that made your back lean onto his torso. And then, with a profound connection, he established a swaheylu bond with his ikran.

"Hold on tight," he whispered to you and nodded toward a slightly lost-looking Lo'ak behind your shoulder. His voice trembled slightly, almost imperceptibly, as he continued. "I may not be fond of you, but I really don't want to bear the responsibility for your death. Got it?"

That night was the moment when you first grasped the gravity of the situation, realizing that it was indeed something serious.

When Neteyam, as carefully and gently as he could, lifted you off his ikran right in front of a village that seemed unfamiliar to you and carried you with quick, firm steps into one of the tents in his arms, the night air suddenly seemed terribly cold and biting, and you realized you weren't home. All the words on your lips vanished into the darkness, and you seemed even too weak to cry.

He whispered reassuring words to you, told you he had to bring you to the nearest village he could find, looked at you with so much concern in his eyes that you were sure you were hallucinating, asked you to try and stay awake as long as you could, but as soon as you had entered the tent, everything seemed to flow into a single moment. After Neteyam formally introduced himself, an elderly woman with red feathers in her hair told him to carry you right after her, anything else would have been a waste of time. She asked him a lot; your name, your age, what had happened that evening, whether anything like that had happened before.

You were almost surprised at how collected he was and how many of the questions he was able to answer so quickly, but actually it was only logical – he also spent as much time with Lo'ak as you did, so you, too, couldn't help but learn a lot about the oh-so-legendary Neteyam Sully. As if that mattered.

Inside the tent, there was an unusual calmness, contrary to your expectations. In your own clan, Tsahìk's tent was always bustling with activity, filled with people seeking healing or simply enjoying each other's company. But in this clan, it felt different. It was quieter, almost serene, yet it carried an air of solitude. You couldn't help but notice a middle-aged man seated on one of the mats, his head buried in his hands as if he were anxiously awaiting something. Or someone. Next to him, a little girl lay with a peaceful face, seemingly asleep.

You really had no clue why this man of all people was stuck in your mind so clearly – this inconspicuous man, the only steadfast memory of that night. 

The night when it all began.

The last thing you felt was Neteyam's hand on yours. Then everything went black and the only thing that remained was the picture of golden eyes and the man in the healing tent.

Vawm na txon. As dark as the night.

When you felt his fingertips on your wrist, you involuntarily winced and looked up. "Hey, Lo'ak," you muttered, and he immediately pulled you into a gentle hug and kissed your hairline. His voice sounded hoarse and rough and the bittersweet smell of sweet yovo fruit mixed with a bit of salt hung on his skin; and heaven, you would have loved to never let go of him again. 

For a moment he just looked at you in silence and frowned before he sat across from you on the grass. Lo'ak started to say something, but his voice failed and a low sigh caught in the air around you. 

"You look tired." You almost laughed, and it didn't even feel wrong. You look tired. Tuk had said the same thing earlier that morning while sitting in front of her herbal tea and half of Neytiri's infamous sari seed bread. She had preferred eating her morning meal in her grandmother's tent, because you were there too, not for relaxation, but to drink the disgusting mixture Mo'at prepared for you every single morning for the last three moons. Uttering those words, Tuk had even cast the same concerned look at you, with the same worried expression on her freckled, delicate face, just like her older brother was doing now, and it had almost broken your heart.

"I didn't sleep well last night, that's all."

When he said your name, admonishing with a sigh, his voice quivered, teetering on the edge of concern, before he hesitantly continued, "Are you… okay?" 

His unspoken words hung heavy in the air, etched upon his countenance. You could see the unvoiced questions etching lines of worry upon his face, 'In the past few moons you haven't gotten back to me or anyone else, nor did you answer a single radio call, I tried to reach out to you several times, but you ignored me, you never asked to speak to me, and when my family sent you my greetings you just smiled and made promises that you never intended to keep, nothing.' yet they remained trapped within the confines of his sealed lips. The restrained inquiry and underlying disappointment were palpable, like a suppressed ache that threatened to consume him; and deep down, you knew his effort to withhold his concerns only magnified your own pain, intensifying the weight of his unspoken concerns.

"You're my best friend," he finally just said and ran his hand through his already chaotic braids. 

At the same moment, out of pure impulse, you brushed a tangled strand of hair from your face. You had already heard last week that Lo'ak and Kiri would return early to transport some rations from here to Awa'atlu, thanks to Max and Norm who had decided to expand their labs to the Eastern Sea. At the same time, you didn't want to get too excited because they would only stay for a maximum of one week before being away for three more moons. Nevertheless, you had missed him. Every day since that party and their department two days later, you had thought of the moment he and Kiri left for the Eastern Sea, how he had briefly refused to leave until you were feeling better, how hard it was for you and his parents to convince him that everything was alright; how Lo'ak had promised to check in on you over the radio every evening just before the eclipse, how he had kept his promise, but you hadn't, and how you were contemplating telling him what had happened in those three months since he was gone, too anxious of his reaction; even more than the one time you had to make an important decision almost ten cycles ago:

"Why is he so mean? His radio code name is Pathfinder, and he has the audacity to criticize mine? He called me Plain Grandma, can you believe that!?"

"He also called you Slow Vipertail which is far worse in my eyes," Lo'ak had commented dryly.

"Shut up, Eagle Eye!" you had crossed your arms in front of your chest, pouting, "What is so bad about Stargirl?"

"No offense but it couldn't be any girlier." 

"Well, I am a girl."

"But do you want the enemy to know that?" 

"I thought our frequency was secure?"

"You never know with them." When you had continued to pout, Lo'ak had nudged you encouragingly with his elbow, "Come on, you can be Silent Thunder if you like."

"Isn't that what you call your farts?" Kiri, who had remained completely silent during your discussion, was the one who had made that comment. You had made a disgusted face in response.

"Okaaay," Lo'ak had groaned, "Then be anything but Stargirl, Eywa, just choose something or I'll do it for you. Remember, your code name sticks with you forever."

In the end, the discussion had dragged on for so long that during the evening meal, the two of you had managed to irritate every clan member within a two-meter radius. Jake had taken it upon himself to bring it to a close and gave you your personal radio code name, which you cherished to this day. Not because it had come from your former Olo'eyktan, but from a person you loved and respected like your own father; it was more than an honor to you.

You looked at him now, at Jake's identical copy, a bittersweet smile forming at the corners of your mouth, tinged with nostalgia. His eyes were like the early sun rays that morning at Tsahìk's tent; two orbs of amber with irregular, whitish spots of cream – strange that this, of all things, crossed your mind at that second. 

"Eagle Eye to Skyracer," he playfully nudged your knee in an attempt to lighten the mood, "Come on, tell me why you avoid me."

And then, then you said it out loud; a single little sentence of four syllables, and his once sunlight-radiating eyes were covered by lids streaked with fine, pale blue veins, holding a glimmer of melancholy, like a fading sunset.

"Please, no," he whispered, his voice filled with sadness, as you sought comfort in the embrace of his arms, burying your head in the crook of his neck. Salty tears mingled with your lips as you clung to each other, his fingers interlacing with yours, a desperate grip that turned his knuckles almost white, the weight of the impending fate pressed upon you both.

As the realization settled within him, Lo'ak let go of you and collapsed onto the grass, his shoulders shaking with uncontrollable sobs and trembling with the intensity of his emotions. You immediately wrapped your arms around him again, wanting to share his emotions, knowing that this pain was as much his as it was yours, while the air around you seemed heavy with helplessness as the two of you sat there, engulfed in the depths of your shared pain. 

"No!" he cried out all of a sudden, his voice choked on his tears. Saliva glistened on his quivering lips, his breath was ragged and uneven; and his eyes, bloodshot and filled with more unshed tears, refused to accept the harsh reality you just told him.

"Why? Why you?" Lo'ak's voice cracked as the words escaped through clenched teeth. His fists clenched tightly, nails digging into the ground beneath you, as if trying to anchor himself to the pain, refusing to accept the meaning behind your words. His tears mingled with yours as you still held him close, feeling his agony reverberate through your own heart.

Lo'ak's voice was laced with raw fury. "This can't be happening! It's not fair!"

The wind whispered through the grass, carrying the echoes of his anguish across the desolate landscape, but leaving his voice hanging in the air. The setting sun, a silent witness to the unraveling of two intertwined souls, cast its pale light upon the scene, casting long shadows around you.

Lo'ak's emotions gave way to desperate pleas, his voice cracking with desperation. "Please, there must be a way. I'll talk to my dad, he… he can…" he choked on his tears once more, "Anything. I'll give anything."

You stroked his trembling cheek, tears flowing freely down your own face. "I know you would. But sometimes, there are forces beyond our control, Lo'ak, I need you to understand that."

Lo'ak's resistance crumbled, his body sinking into a heap of devastation. His nose ran, mingling with the tears streaming down his face. He clung to you, a lifeline in the midst of a tempestuous sea, refusing to let go even as the waves crashed around him.

The evening wore on, its grey hue mirroring the somberness of your hearts. There were no words that could ease the ache or undo the cruel fate, so, you remained there, seeking comfort in the silence, finding comfort in each other's arms for you drew strength from one another, offering support amidst the overwhelming feelings that engulfed you.

The next day, as the sun bathed the forest in a golden glow, you were sitting near the quiet stream by yourself, keeping yourself distracted and enjoying the gentle tickle of water, when you heard footsteps growing louder as someone approached you. You turned around, a calm expression masking the inner storm within you, just to see Neteyam, his expression hardened with determination

Your eyes met his, and you could see anger, confusion, and concern in his gaze all at once, catching you completely off-guard; it was strange that he sought you out in the first place, and then seeing him so… emotional, that was a first. 

He stood tall before you, the sun at his back, giving him an angelic glow that he surely didn't deserve, and it was ironic, too, given his angry pout that you were sure Lo'ak would've made fun of if he was here. 

Neteyam's voice was laced with a tinge of bitterness when he spoke, "You've broken my brother's heart. What did you do to him?"

"You already have your answer, apparently I've broken his heart," you said sarcastically to which he scoffed. You remained composed, refusing to allow his words to rattle you, and your voice carried a hint of indifference as you added, "Trust me, I haven't done and wouldn't ever do anything to intentionally hurt Lo'ak."

Neteyam's nostrils flared as frustration mingled with his anger. The man, normally composed, couldn't be further away from that in that very moment, when he took a deliberate step closer, his gaze locking with yours. "Don't play innocent with me. You must've betrayed him in some way."

"Betrayal requires intent, Neteyam," You held his gaze, unyielding in the face of his accusations, "Whatever you think I've done, it wasn't with the purpose of hurting Lo'ak."

Neteyam's anger wavered for a moment, replaced by a flicker of uncertainty. His brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of the situation. "Then why? Why is he crying and suffering if it wasn't your doing? What could have caused this?"

A bittersweet smile graced your lips as you shook your head gently. 

"It's true, isn't it? What Ivät said at training this mor—"

"Don't say his name," you warned, your voice carrying a deep, growling tone from the back of your throat.

Neteyam's anger softened, replaced by curiosity and even a sense of empathy. Though skepticism still lingered in his voice, genuine concern emerged, "But why? Why would you go back to him? He should be exiled but here you are, running back to him after everything he's done to you."

"Tell me again why any of this matters to you?" you questioned.

"Lo'ak cares for you, deeply. I care for him, deeply. That means everything you do eventually affects me," Neteyam explained, attempting to convey the weight of his words. "Understand that your actions have consequences for everyone around you."

"I'm not having this conversation with you right now," you declared sighing, walking past him with determined steps.

"Just tell your parents you don't want to," he shouted after you, "I can… My family could support you, you know. You don't have to do anything against your will."

"Well," you turned around, snapping at him, "you can't fight against fate, can you?"

There was a brief pause as Neteyam absorbed your words, realization slowly dawning on him that there might be more to the situation than he initially believed. His eyes darkened, and his nails dug into his palms as he struggled to control his emotions, "You can try."

You let out an ironic huff, shaking your head slightly and biting your inner cheek to prevent a sarcastic comment from slipping out.

"I am not your enemy," he continued in a softer tone, seeking your eyes, "I'm only here trying to help you, yet you—"

"That, Neteyam, is not my concern," you interrupted him harshly. You met his gaze finally, the weight of unspoken truths hanging in the air between you. "I never asked for your help, nor do I need it. If you truly care about your brother, perhaps you should be there for him and ask him directly how you can help him instead of mingling with my private life and assuming the worst of me."

With that, you turned back around and kept walking away with determined steps, leaving Neteyam standing by the stream alone with his swirling thoughts, but you couldn't deny the flicker of vulnerability within you as a twinge of guilt tugged at your conscience for the way you had treated the only person who had recently saved your life, accompanied by a sense of regret for your harsh words, realizing that you had never even thanked him.

A few hours later, you were sitting on the wooden floor in your family’s tent; leaning your head against the slightly dirty rolled-up rug near the entry and pulling your knees so close to your body that the hem of your loincloth slipped a long way down your thigh. The evening had long since settled over the landscapes, and it was now dark outside. In your hands, you were holding a handcrafted mug with still steaming herbal tea that Kiri had brought you a few minutes earlier, and you clutched it so tight that your knuckles were clearly visible on your skin. 

Kiri was now sitting at the opposite side of you next to your hammock as she thoughtfully twisted the hem of her loincloth between her fingers, like she always did when she didn't know what to say, before deciding to leave the fabric alone. 

"Now tell me, what's going on?" You sighed softly and something in your friend's gaze brought tears to your eyes, but you didn't want to cry, not again. You liked Kiri a lot, she was the girl you were closest friends with, in the entire clan, but you hated to refer to her as 'best friend', although, strictly speaking, she was. You liked Kiri actually so much that you couldn't do it to her. Not after seeing what it had done to Lo'ak. You couldn't bear to see two broken souls within a day. But your previous encounter with Neteyam had taught you something: you had to be the one whom they heard the news of, not someone else, let alone a stranger. It had to be you. That much you owed them at least. And yet, it was so difficult.

"Everything's fine. Really." A weak smile crept on your face involuntarily, while you took a sip of your tea. "Come on, Kiri. Don't be stupid, you're missing out on the evening meal."

"You as well."

"I'm not hungry."

"You're always hungry." You sat up straight and leaned one leg over the other so you could look directly at Kiri. There was something in her gaze between concern and helplessness, but you could only vaguely make it out. She bit her lower lip lightly before continuing. "I met Lo'ak earlier, he looked... he really didn't look good, and he seemed kind of absent."

"He's probably missing Tsireya already."

"He said I'd better talk to you about it."

You kept quiet at that, unsure how to respond.

"You know, Neteyam said that you-know-who goes around saying… that he has approached your parents, seeking their approval to court you once again? Is that true?"

"Yes," you answered without any emotion in your voice.

"But there is something else that saddens you."

You lifted your shoulders slightly, just a tiny bit, and you already felt the tears threaten to fall down your eyelashes. You ran the back of your hand over your face, exhaled shakily, and pressed your lips together, but the first sob stumbled over your lips before you could have done anything about it. 

You muttered a curse word, and it took you a moment to pull yourself together. "I'm sorry, Kiri. I am so incredibly sorry." The tears ran down your cheeks unsteadily, and dripped onto the feathers on your chest, leaving behind light stains that faded a heartbeat later. "So far only my parents know, and probably yours, too, along with Tsahìk, of course. And Lo'ak, he knows, too. The others will find out when it can no longer be avoided, and… and this moment, it will come, but… you really cannot tell anyone, Kiri."

Kiri stared at you blankly, a single hair strand had come off her bun and fell over her shoulder in a slight wave. She was afraid. You were too. You sniffed softly and looked down, just a brief moment before you pulled yourself together and looked up at her.

"I am dying, Kiri, and there is no cure."

taglist (let me know if I forgot someone, and also let me know if you want to be added or removed): @eclipseatsea @randxmthxughts @andraga12 @rexorangecouny @mightyneteyam

୨⎯ series masterlist ⎯୧

#sorrows for starboy #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #neteyam x reader #neteyam imagine #neteyam x you #neteyam x female reader #neteyam #neteyam x omaticaya!reader #neteyam x na'vi!reader #neteyam sully #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam sully imagine #boyfriend neteyam #enemies to lovers #star-crossed lovers #neteyam x y/n #protective neteyam #cocky neteyam #avatar the way of water #avatar 2 #avatar the way of water imagine #atwow neteyam imagine #atwow imagines #atwow x you #atwow x reader #atwow neteyam #lo'ak te suli tsyeyk'itan #lo'ak sully #kiri te suli kìreysì'ite #kiri sully

[psalacanthea]

To Conquer Death

Dark Urge (female, tiefling) x Enver Gortash, 15,000 words. First time sex, Banite/Bhaalist dynamics&conflict (attempted domination vs attempted murder). Dark humor. Full fic found HERE ON AO3. Support appreciated <3

cw: non-consensual spite voyeurism, explicit sex, misogynistic language and attitude (durge being a hater), flippant mentions of slavery and rape (gort being a bastard), mentioned child abuse, and attempted cannibalism

...

“Not of it, my dearest Belladonna.  Of what it is.  That ring is worth more than this entire house!”  He sounded quite self-satisfied.  Gloating was one of Enver’s biggest vices, she’d learned.  It didn’t bother her to be his audience for a bit of smugness, as she was quite often when he was feeling self-important.

“I don’t see the point in jewelry or garish clothing.”

“I know.  It’s a pity, it makes you difficult to bribe.  How much longer will the spell last?”

“It wore off some time ago, she’s only sleeping now.  It seems she’s unused to…mild activity.”  Thoughtfully she tilted her head as he straightened up and turned to face her.  Hmmh. 

“You’re very rude tonight.”  His voice was utterly neutral, rather than offended.  With a small flourish, Enver gestured to his hair.  “Acceptable?”

Not particularly.

She still wanted to put her heel on his throat and forcibly shave his head.

“As acceptable as it ever is.  Do you– do ordinary people’s standards make the decoration of the form more important than the form itself?”

Enver paused halfway to her, glanced to his discarded clothes, and then sighed and moved for them, not answering her.  “Cast the spell again, please, to cover my departure.  How long will it last?”

“Perhaps ten minutes?”  

“It will have to do.  Please.”

She did as he asked, which took only a very brief casting, the divine magic of her blood singing in her veins.  It always felt so wasteful to perform small spells.  Why should the power of a god be used for things that could be done by hands?  But this was different.

Enver’s methods were not like hers, and she shouldn’t ruin his plans by murdering his mark.  Even if it wouldn’t be much of a loss.  Staring the woman in the face as she chanted softly, a faint purplish glow surrounded them, lighting up her face.  Definitely inferior.

Once Wisteria was in an induced slumber once more, she rose from her crouch next to the bed.

“Isn’t it rude for you to simply leave?”

“Will you leave if I don’t?” he asked, glancing at her.  Shaking his head, he went back to gathering up his clothing, bending over to pick something up…like a servant.  How undignified.  Didn’t he have a butler for such things?

Belladonna crossed back and set the ring down on the table next to her water.  “You never asked me to go.  I will depart, then.”

“Go down to the carriage, I’ll meet you there in a moment.”

Why would he do that?  “I said I would leave, there is no need for you to depart.  You should sleep.”

Enver stepped behind a panel to dress, which always confused her.  He even did it when he thought no one was in the room.  “I’m not being put-upon, dear Belladonna, I hadn’t planned to stay.  And no, on your earlier question of decoration being more important than appearance.  You can dress a pig in gold and silk, but that doesn’t mean you can take it to a dinner party.” He chuckled faintly to himself, relishing his own joke.

Belladonna was less amused.  “But you’ll fuck a pig.”

There was a pause, and then a very poorly stifled laugh.  “Well, my disturbingly blunt friend, that’s where the money and power comes into play.  You truly find her that ugly?”

“Find?  No.  I didn’t have to search at all– haven’t you seen her face?”

“Yes, and it didn’t offend me.  Perhaps your standards are too high.”

“Her features are asymmetrical and too large.  Her jaw is weak.  Her lips are too thin.  Those are not standards, those are observations.  Truths.”

“Gods you’re brutal.  And here I was beginning to come to terms with the fact that you decided to spy on me during sex.”

Belladonna wasn’t certain why he called her ‘brutal’, she hadn’t even mentioned the flat chest and utter lack of muscles.  “I was merely being truthful.”

“And I enjoy that about you.  Alas…” He appeared again, adjusting his coat.  “We need to be going.  Am I now allowed to be in your presence, or will you be disappearing?”

“Are you going to bathe?”

“Be careful, you’re beginning to sound jealous.”  

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #durgetash #gortash x durge #dark urge x gortash #durge: Belladonna #Enver Gortash #she's such a jealous little hater it's almost embarrassing how much she denies it #and how fucking obvious she is lol #she's not used to not getting her way

[avelera]

Giving Sanctuary "Behind the Scenes" - On Masculinity

Inspired by Ep. 1.03 of "The Last of Us" in which there is a line when one canonically gay male character tells his also canonically gay male partner, "You were my purpose."

I was so excited by this line because I saw it as confirmation that I'd written men in love well, or at least as well as I could. So much so that I turned to my partner and explained to him that it felt like something of a personal victory to see these two very masculine gay characters in the show defining their love for one another as specifically a purpose, much as I have Hob inch his way towards admitting he wants to be (effectively) married to Dream in Giving Sanctuary by calling looking after Dream "his purpose". I was also very pleased when my partner confirmed that, yes, as a man, it felt very true and authentic to him to have both the characters in the show and Hob as I've written him define their relationships that way, within the bounds of masculinity and masculine pride.

I watched the episode with my partner (a big TLOU fan), with whom I have a lot of discussions around masculinity because as a writer, particularly of adult m/m ships, I want the men I write to actually feel like men, and my partner is wonderfully open with me in these discussions of how to make male characters actually feel like men, instead of feeling like men written by women. I doubt I can ever achieve men-written-by-men levels of accuracy as strictly as if the male characters I write were written by a man (all gender language in this is meant inclusively, btw, assume I always mean "female/male-identifying" etc) but I think there are a lot of common tropes and pitfalls the largely-but-not-exclusively female writerly space of fanfic tend to fall into, which I try to avoid.

One is that while there is the joke that male writers tend to write women "breasting boobily down the stairs" ie, always focused on their physical characteristic, there is the reverse weakness that's less talked about of women writers writing male characters as more willing to be emotionally vulnerable than most men usually are/are socialized to be. Not saying it's a good or a bad thing, just that male characters written by women writers are, on the balance, less concerned with masculine pride or against displaying emotion than actual men tend to be. I wrote about this extensively elsewhere.

When I started writing Giving Sanctuary, I knew it was going to be a sentimental, emotionally charged, and vulnerable story, but I didn't want to go overboard and have Hob or Dream, both canonically proud men, fall overboard into woobification.

So, how does one get these two proud, male-identifying people/entities to do something so emotionally vulnerable and sentimental as decide to move in together so they can talk about their feelings and form essentially a two-man grieving father support group? You make it an exchange. Not crassly transactional, as such. But Dream is far too proud to simply accept someone doting on him, he will push back and while he has people like Lucienne and Jessamy in his life, he often ignores their attempts to care for him, and clearly having them around hasn't been enough because he can always pull rank on them and blow off their advice.

Likewise, Hob is at his lowest. He'll accept any material help given at this point, but that's him at his absolute lowest point. Once he got his feet under him at all he would begin to demur and push back against Dream just giving him things. He would want to pull his weight. He would feel awkward about having been so emotionally vulnerable in front of someone as proud as Dream, even if Hob at 300+ years old and having gone through as much as he has is someone (as I write him, at least) who is very in touch with his emotions and who has a half dozen lifetime's worth of practice at emotional resilience. He's good at it.

But by making it so Hob looking after Dream is repayment for Dream looking after Hob, it allows Dream to chill out a bit about someone telling him what to do, or look after him. It's now couched in The Rules and An Agreement. Dream sees that Lucienne is afraid of him (in ch. 3) and realizes that, combined with how good he felt being able to open up to Hob about how much losing Orpheus hurt him, brings him to the revelation (without the fishbowl) that he doesn't like the person he's become and he wants to get better. Hob has shown emotional wisdom and so Dream is willing to admit that having someone more skilled at navigating emotion and healing take charge of his personal life for a bit is a "practical" way of getting out of this hole he realizes he's in.

Likewise, by classifying it as a transaction of sorts, Hob feel less like a charity case and more like he has a job. Given that he has no material goods to pay Dream with (not that he'd need/want them) this means a lot to Hob. Hob is (in my mind, but there's canonical evidence to back this up) very much a materialist and a hedonist. He feels like absolute garbage that he can't fulfill the role of a provider towards Dream, or anyone at this point. He defines his worth by the value of the stuff that he owns and the amount of gold in his possession.

Crass as he might have been in 1589, Hob was at the top of the world and the happiest we ever see him as someone who has reached an inconceivable pinnacle of wealth and status for someone of his birth. The man was a bandit, you can't tell me he doesn't take having money very seriously. (This is also a story in which money, class, and resources is not always necessarily central but it's always present as a concern for Hob, even as it's barely something that even occurs to Dream, and that's very deliberate. The fact that part of Hob's healing is accomplished by fulfilling his physical needs and giving him a safe space and privacy to heal is not an accident.)

So anyway, all of this is to say, that before Hob is ready to admit (what in his time period is legally impossible) that he wants to marry Dream, and what given their past relationship seems emotionally impossible, that Hob would be allowed to love Dream the way he wants to, it's easier to define looking after Dream as the more neutral "purpose" in his life. This is something he can speak of openly with Dream even before admitting any romantic feelings. Very close friends could, in theory, make a similar pact to look after one another. Men who do not want to admit emotional vulnerability can openly speak of having a job and a purpose and couching this emotional caretaking and vulnerability in those terms makes it easier within the bounds of certain cultural definitions of masculinity to do so. It's Dream and Hob saying, "We're not just babying one another, we're not just gushing about our sad feelings to each other, rather, we're recognizing that our emotional states do matter and they've cratered enough that we can't pull our actual lives as we want them back together until we deal with this." It just so happens, in this instance, that this emotional vulnerability leads to romantic love.

And, as I said, I felt incredibly gratified when this very male character, written and performed by a man, used similar words to define the act of caretaking as a "purpose" to someone he loved because while Hob as I write him isn't nearly that emotionally reserved, he does have that backbone of masculinity and the need to be a caretaker and a provider within a masculine framework so the resonance of terminology meant a lot.

#1689 fic #giving sanctuary #giving sanctuary bts #when the meds kick in and adhd brain go brrrrr

[coldshrugs]

Self-Rec Tag Game

Rules: share five of your own fanworks (fic, art, etc.) Then, tag five more people to share the things they've made.

@ghostwise tagged me for this!! thank you, beloved!! it's so fun and i believe in self-hype so here we go. this is bound to get long, sorry.

i'll tag @syrcus @scionshtola @gefiltefished @rickety-goose @myreia @lilas @thevikingwoman (this is seven people BUT many of us have been struggling with The Block lately so i'd love to see you guys celebrate yourselves if you want to 💗)

✨ Something you absolutely adore ✨

in this state (FFXIV): a moment immediately following Ultima Thule's climax, in which estinien and alisaie sit with an unconscious io. i really loved having them ignore and then play off each other for this!

“You care for her, don’t you?” Alisaie asks. Estinien scowls at the very specific emphasis in the question. He cares about a great many people, Alisaie not least among them. He cares for their causes and their well-being. But that is not what she is asking. It hasn’t needed a name before now, this feeling. Most often, it is in his chest, unfurling softly each time Io smiles, or rests her head against his shoulder, or speaks kindness to a stranger, until he can feel nothing but her warmth. Other times it shoots up his spine, a radiant pride that strengthens his arm and steadies his aim. It is the knowledge he would follow her anywhere because there is no one he trusts more. And now it lodges between his ribs, sharp and stinging. He answers after a long moment. “Aye.”

✨ Something that was challenging to create ✨

vacation, had to get away (TWC): i attempted to write a spooky story because TWC is not nearly as unsettling a universe as it could be. lots of fun but ough, i was so far out of my romance wheelhouse.

Between the clutter and sightseeing, even under the blazing coastal sun, there’s always something dark shifting just at the edge of Rebecca’s vision. Faint shadows twisting out of view at the last second. The wound-wet itch of unease prickling her skin. Someone is watching—of that, she’s certain.

✨ Something that makes you laugh (or smile, if that fits more comfortably) ✨

oblivious (FFXIV): aymeric and estinien catching up and being besties. aymeric living for his friend having a crush. plus the groupchat decided this was the one (1) time aymeric is allowed to say "fuck."

“Mm, perhaps ‘friend’ is erroneous in both cases. Nevertheless, I am pleased you have someone like her,” Aymeric pauses, “for support, of course, as you adjust to– what was it again?– 'all these fucking academics.’ Though, I am confident they are thrilled to have you on their side.” Estinien leans back on his heels, chuckling at Aymeric’s weak-voiced swear. “Aye, they’re a hospitable group.” He glances up the stairs. Io and General Aldynn are inside now, and though his face does not betray him, there is a gravity to his pining. It pulls at him. He takes a step forward, clapping Aymeric on the shoulder. “I should go inside. It was good to see you, my friend. Give my regards to our brothers in arms, will you?”

✨ Something that surprised you (in how it turned out, how much other people liked it, etc.) ✨

praying that it waits for me (TWC): a fic about bumbling side character Douglas, which has had an amount of praise that still astounds and moves me, even two years later. i've read and reread every comment, tag, and little story folks have put on about accepting themselves and their queerness. i cannot tell you how much this piece means to me, and i am so humbled it resonated with so many friends and readers.

He starts gathering the threads. How this started, when he knew, why he hasn’t told his parents. Why he hasn’t told anyone. Where he plans to go from here. He knows the answers, but struggles to weave them into anything solid in his mind. He still has questions of his own, after all. His sexuality isn’t something he can put into bullet points, no matter how much easier that’d make this conversation. So he sits, swaying on the edge of his truth, still afraid of becoming.

✨ Something you want other people to see ✨

what i see in you, i hope you find in me (FFXIV): my favorite work for io and estinien so far tbh. io's shaky headspace during this portion of EnW was fun to navigate, and i am always pleased to write alisaie. balancing zenos and estinien as romantic foils during this part of her life is also 🥴

“He’s angry with me. I suppose that is his right. I shouldn’t have let them take you two.” Io grits her teeth, fighting against the knot of guilt that has resided in her stomach since the morning. Estinien is her friend, perhaps the closest she has here besides Alisaie. She understands him, so she can hardly blame him for being upset with her. They are family to him, Alphinaud, and Alisaie by extension. No less than they are to her. He has given Io little more than one-word responses since the twins were found. She may pretend otherwise, but his cold shoulder wounds her. “Oh, to hells with Estinien.” Alisaie waves a gloved hand dismissively in his direction. “He’ll get over it. Would he have you fire upon civilians while negotiating peace? He may love my brother like a… well, brother, but he must admit there was no ideal series of events to be had. We all did our best, and we all made it through.”

(spicy edition under the cut because i am 50% a smut writer after all)

✨ Something you absolutely adore ✨

flood (FFXIV): i actually really love this fic, it's spicy then it gets SO mushy. describing the position in a way that sounds hot and achievable was tough, ngl, but this is so so indicative of their intimate dynamic in general.

Already, the first threads of her climax quiver in her belly, pulled taut like a bow, like the curl of her back, as she anticipates the release to come. One move from Estinien, and she will shatter. He opens his eyes, hungrily surveying the twist of her body, enthralled by the lace framing her breasts. Io is so close, and can’t help herself. “You are adorable.” Estinien leans forward, arcing his body over hers. The ends of his unbound hair skim her shoulders and chest, featherlight touches in stark contrast to the stinging tug on her scalp. His lips brush Io’s in an intimation of a kiss, warm breath washing over her face and neck as he teases her with gentleness. “And you are already throbbing. When you come, I want to hear it, yes?”

✨ Something that was challenging to create ✨

too precious (blooming panic): uh. i wrote this out of spite because i hated the dom!toasty happenings LMAO. figuring out their sexual dynamic was a fun challenge. lots of blushing.

“I love how patient you’ve been, letting me take you in like this.” A real kiss, finally, and he sighs into her mouth. It kills him, not being able to rest his hands on her body, or run them through her hair. They twitch helplessly in the ties at either side of the bed, and Teddy kisses him harder to compensate.

✨ Something that makes you laugh (or smile, if that fits more comfortably) ✨

in the light i thought i saw you (wayfarer): just filling in the blanks of ephyra's time with veyer at the gala. they are both SUCH little shits in this, it makes me laugh.

She touches their clit. The hitch of their breath is felt more than heard, and it’s Ephyra’s turn to laugh. “Oh?” Veyer’s head falls forward, cradled between her shoulder and neck, and Ephyra’s head spins again. Veyer is… strikingly vulnerable, more than she expected for a Guild Mage. They’re so open, too close. It’s almost uncomfortable. Almost. They grind against her palm, their own touch becoming erratic for a moment, before gently, firmly pulling her hand away. Did she do something wrong? They tsk a couple times, and a fresh grin pulls at their lips. “Not yet, Ephyra. I need both our focuses here-” They curl their fingers inside her to emphasize the point. “Be patient, dear.”

✨ Something that surprised you (in how it turned out, how much other people liked it, etc.) ✨

alma.mp4 (TWC): i love writing self-love smut but i'm always shocked when other people are into the way i write it LMAO.

“How do I taste, Mason?” She lifts her fingers, dripping and slick, to his mouth. The smirk parts and he takes them in with no hesitation. His tongue slides over them, between them, and Mason’s never been good at savoring. He devours. Eyes half-lidded like he might be a little drunk on her taste, he presses a wet kiss to her palm. His lips come away shining. “Better than blood, sweetheart.”

✨ Something you want other people to see ✨

something to talk about (FFXIV): idk i just think io should be allowed to be bossy sometimes and i think estinien would like it.

He removes his shirt while she unties his pants, pushing them past his hips. Candlelight dances across his skin and in his mussed hair. Io bites back the urge to tell him how beautiful he looks, cast in orange-gold light, already panting, barely holding onto the leash of his restraint. She strokes him with a deft hand, as familiar with his tells as he is with hers. The hitching breath, the white knuckle grip. This was his game, was it not? Io slides the tip of his cock into her cunt, then cups his chin. She murmurs against his lips, “come on, then.”

#tag game #also if you weren't tagged and want to do this PLEASE tag me #the way i had to FIGHT not to include wayfarer fic here for. friend reasons. #but ONE veffie piece slipped in because i love them. sorry anna SORRY #anyway i'm very sorry to put such a LONG post on your dash everyone #but you probably know me by now--i never shut up #reading through my stuff for this was half 'oh this is cringe' and half 'omg this slaps' #i also feel kind of weird for having a swf section and a spicy section but i would be doing myself a disservice by excluding those T^T

[espinosaurusrexex]

Dying Isn’t So Scary with You

BuckyBarnes x female!reader

In which Bucky and Y/N have a deep late night conversation.

a/n: This might have been inspired by the first episode of 'I'm Dying Up Here'. Please, I just want someone to look at me like that 😭

word count: 1.6k

warnings: mentions of death, mentions of killing, slight angst, fluff

𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒐𝒏𝒆 | 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒕𝒘𝒐 | 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 | 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐎𝟑

Faint wind, the rough surface of the compound’s roof beneath them, and contentment laced in the air, intoxicating them with every breath.

“You know what they say?” Y/N’s eyes found Bucky’s in the weak light of the moon. His attention was on her completely as his head leaned down toward her, a curious look weaved with his features. “When you die, a piece of your soul stays with the person you spent your last moment with,” she continued.

And she was serious. Because if she weren’t, she would have crinkled her nose. Or the right corner of her mouth would have twitched. Bucky had spent enough time studying her to know what gave her away. But neither of those things had happened. She was staring at Bucky with anticipation. Her eyes were round and soft, focusing on his as a bright smile snug onto her mien.

“Who is 'they'?” Though amusement replaced his expression, he was not making fun of her at all. He could never do that. Y/N’s interest in the afterlife would be taken as seriously as every other topic. 

She shrugged. ”Just people.” And then she looked ahead into the night. 

“People, huh?” Bucky followed her gaze. He fixated on a bright light, miles upon miles away from them. It was calming - solid and warm. A focus point that enacted its purpose without being within reach.

“Yeah.” 

A pleasant silence took up the space between them then. The only sounds surrounding the pair were the distant chirping of crickets hiding in the bushes beneath and the steady whirring of Bucky’s vibranium arm as it was propped behind him to support his leaning on it.

Bucky really loved these moments. A little peace in the everlasting chaos that surrounded the Avengers day in and out. Like a seldom escape into the slow and steady rhythm of a life that could have been. A life he wished for with Y/N by his side. A moment that showed him that normal still was within the realm of possibilities for him. Whether he would take it, was another thing though.

“What do you think about that?” His voice broke through the quiet. And his head traveled back to the woman beside him, eyeing her profile as it was lit by the weak hues of the night. He liked that, too: Watching as her expressions changed and imagining what thoughts swarmed through her beautiful mind.

“I think it’s wonderful.” Her eyes were trained on the light, still - a smile present on her lips as her words left them. 

She was refreshing - how she simply accepted it while his head was pounding with ‘what-ifs’ at her prior statement. One so strong he had to say it out loud. It hit too close to home, and he needed her to affirm his worries harmless with her powerful calmness.

“But what if the last person you were with was the one that killed you?” Bucky’s mind wandered further while he waited for an answer. He thought about all the pieces of souls he would carry with him if this statement were true. It was a bunch. Too much for one person to carry, and that’s what he felt like most of the time. But he wouldn’t accept that this was not something he had to manage. He did it, so he had to deal with it as well.

“Well, then I hope my soul will make them feel remorse for eternity,” Y/N muttered absently, and Bucky shifted his focus back to the distance unfolding before him. That’s exactly what these souls did. He felt them doing it right at this moment. Pressing on his conscience like a heavyweight.

Y/N turned her head towards him when he didn’t comment on her statement. She must have sensed what bothered him. He didn’t even attempt to hide it in her presence. She would figure it out sooner or later. Pushing him on it until he bent under her and spilled his thoughts into one giant puddle before them.

“What about you?” She offered - hesitant to ease the weird tension that had built up between the two. It wasn’t uncomfortable though. It felt as if it had to be there - in its rightful place.

“What about me?” His eyes glazed over. He hadn’t blinked for a while, but it felt right. He wanted to feel the slight stinging of the wind in his eyeballs to remind him how tangible this moment was - to anchor himself back to reality as he waited for the storm in his mind to pass.

Y/N placed her hand on his knee and her thumb began stroking the fabric of his jeans in a steady movement. Bucky averted his gaze from the light in the distance, focusing on her fingers instead. “What do you think happens when we die?"

“I- I don't know, Y/N.” It wasn’t fair. She didn’t have anything to do with it. This was his trouble, and ruining one of these sparse moments with his insecurities didn’t feel right. 

Her head dipped to the side, resting on his shoulder and nuzzling deeper into his shirt as a short hum came from her throat. She closed her eyes, and Bucky could feel her warm breath through the thin fabric covering his skin.

“What?” He whispered. Careful to maintain the newfound serenity.

“I guess I can’t say anything to that.” Her lips pressed a soft kiss to his shoulder. “Neither one of us has died before.”

That was true, but both of them had come very close to it more than a few times. And Bucky couldn’t help but let his mind wander again at the thought of it. It was almost unbelievable how regularly they escaped death in their lives, on missions. It had happened often enough to believe in some kind of higher power - or something else.

"Maybe we have.” Bucky leaked through his silent monologue.

“Huh?” Her head lifted from his shoulder and her eyes sought his with a questioning glare. He looked at her, trying to convey as much seriousness and calmness as possible in his next words.

“Maybe we have died before, we just don’t know.”

Of course, he had played with the thought before. If anything, Bucky’s life felt like the punishment the devil would put upon a person sent to him. And at one point, the super soldier had questioned the purity of his heart too much for it to be healthy. It wasn’t easy living with everything he had done. And it certainly didn’t help that he had memories for two lifetimes to process while doing so. But Y/N made it easier. She reminded him of his good sides.

“That's a scary thing to think about.” 

It surely was, but that was not what Y/N meant by that. Her hand found his cheek, and he leaned into her touch like a reflex. She wanted to comfort him, because for some - for him inexplicable - reason, she knew exactly what happened in his head. And it felt good to be understood. Not only that. He was also accepted - loved, even, despite his demons and flaws.

“Is it though?” His hand covered hers, his mind slowly feeling at ease again. She had that effect on him. It was her own little superpower.

“What do you mean?” Curiosity spiked in her features. She searched his face for an answer as if she was skipping through a novel. Amazement and joy evident in her reaction with every inch of him she focused on.

“Well, isn’t it kind of relieving to think about death as a new beginning rather than the end.” He wanted that. For her, at least. Her soul deserved to live a thousand lives because it would bring happiness to so many more.

“Huh,” her stare focused on the darkness behind him before her eyes found their way back into his again, “I guess so.” Then she retracted her hand and rested her head back in the crook of his neck.

Bucky chuckled at that. 

“What,” she mumbled into his skin, inhaling his scent with a deep breath afterward.

“Nothing.” His hand found the back of her head, stroking her hair and pressing her deeper into him - protective, and safe.

Silence consumed the moment once again, and Y/N’s hand started drawing shapes on his leg, now. The action made goosebumps run up his body. He liked it, though. There were few things Bucky didn’t like in association with Y/N. He would probably argue that there weren’t any, and sometimes it sure felt like that. Right now, was one of these times.

Bucky laid back on the roof, taking Y/N with him as his right arm was already wrapped around her shoulders, his hand disappearing in her hair. The stars above the compound were a lot brighter than the ones over the city in the distance. And when he turned toward the woman in his arms, he could see her features even clearer. 

Y/N was the best thing that ever happened to him. And he could say that with confidence after all the horrible things he had endured. She was the light of his life, with her bright smile and her everlasting optimism that never once failed to put his mind at ease. He wasn’t sure what he deserved her with, but he would try and hold on to her for as long as possible. She was his temple - his safe haven.

“I wouldn’t mind dying right now, then,” Bucky whispered with his eyes closed, squeezing her shoulder with his other hand. She propped herself up on the arm placed by his side.

“What?” 

Her expression told him that his statement concerned her very much, so he continued in order to calm her nerves. “I think having a piece of me with you is the best place it could be.”

Her eyes lit up at that. “You really think that?”

Bucky just smiled in response. Her head came closer to his, and then he kissed her. Pulling her deeper into his embrace, he tried to tell her everything he really thought of, until their lungs were on fire and forced them to break apart again. Yes, it truly was the best place he could be.

#megs imagines #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #james barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #winter soldier #marvel au #marvel fanfiction #bucky x female reader #female!reader #bucky barnes x female reader #steve rogers #captain america #avengers imagine #avengers au #avengers x reader #marvel imagine #winter soldier imagine #avenger reader #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #bucky fic #bucky fanfic #bucky fluff

[khaoticdax]

I Will Ferry Them

So! My finished NiteArmor fic is here!

If you guys like this, please let me know and I’d be happy to write more fics with this pairing. 

Read it down below, or here is the AO3 link https://archiveofourown.org/works/46734988

~

“These here are too weak to continue.

We must return to the Gauntlet and I will ferry them back to the fleet in the morning.”

That was one of the last things that The Armorer said to Bo-Katan before she boarded The Gauntlet with the wounded to take them back to the capital ship.

“This is the way.”

Were the actual last words, and they weren’t directed towards her.

As she watched The Gauntlet leave the atmosphere of Mandalore, the only thing on Bo-Katan’s mind was the interactions between the two of them. The oh-so-tense tension between them.

From the Armorer immediately accepting her into the Convert without question. To asking - if that’s what someone could even call it - Bo to remove her helmet in front of her at the forge after saving the foundling . The Armorer supporting her in bringing together all the clans of Mandalore under one roof. Volunteering to help take back their home planet. It had sparked something in her that she wasn't quite sure she appreciated.

It was only mere hours before the rest of the Mandalorians had been lured into an Imperial base just off the Great Forge.

Trapped.

Trapped is what they were. Din on the other side of the door. Moff Gideon alive, wearing beskar no less. Din was dragged away by Gideon's troops. As Bo-Katan opened a path in the door behind them with the Darksaber, Paz held his ground.

"This is the Way."

Running.

They had to run and hide. There was nothing they could do for Din now. Or Paz. Bo-Katan was almost convinced this attempt to retake Mandalore had failed.

“Lady Kryze, your reinforcements have arrived.”

There was that voice again. The voice that had led Bo-Katan through. The voice that had been able to calm her nerves when she needed it the most - and no one else could calm her down. The Armorer. A small smile crept up upon Bo-Katan’s lips and she replaced her helmet, getting ready to take back her homeworld.

Once outside, the site was not as pretty as one had would hope. The Imperials had launched TIE’s and a few of the ships had taken fire, crashing down to the barren ground in a big ball of flames.

One ship. Two ship. Maybe more?

That couldn’t be Kryze’s concern now. They all knew that danger that this mission would bring to them, but they all also understood how important it was. Following the remaining ships back to the Imperial base. With the reinforcements it seemed more likely that it would be a success. That Mandalore would finally be back in the hands of the Mandalorians once again. The pride of this idea swelled within Bo-Katan’s chest, and at the idea of being able to show the Armorer the Great Forge. Hope. It was something Bo had not allowed herself to feel in a very long time and she was very weary of feeling it now.

Ablaze.

The battle didn’t last very long. Axe Woves, and his quick thinking, had led to the defeat of Moff Gideon and the rest of the Imp’s on Mandalore. Even if it had meant the destruction of the Darksaber, and even Bo’s right hand. Luckily, the foundling Grogu was able to save her and Din from the blaze. They survived, scars and scratches to prove it. Once they finally reunited with the rest of the Mandalorians on the surface, Bo noticed someone missing. She assumed the Armorer was just tending to the wounded somewhere out of view. Walking up to Koska, Bo-Katan knew it was time to address their losses. She could take care of herself later when everything else was taken care of.

“How many ships did we lose to the Imps?” Her voice calm and collected, expecting it to be an impact but not a major one.

Koska turned, fear spread across her eyes as she looked at the red head. It was very rare for any Mandalorian to express fear, especially to a commanding officer. Bo had never seen Koska with this expression on her face.

“What?” Lady Kryze asked, hoping to pull the information out of her friend.

“Your ship…” Koska started, her voice quiet and her eyes trying their best to not make contact with the lady in front of her. “Was one of the ones to fall..”

Bo-Katan’s eyes widened, but if that was the cost of retaking her homeworld, it was only a small price to pay. “Such fear over a ship?” She joked towards the smaller women. Koska shook her head.

“No… It was who was flying your ship.” Koska stated plainly and stared directly into Bo-Katan’s eyes - hoping it would get the point across without having to say the words. A shocked gasp left the red head's lips and her eyes widened. No.

“Where?”

Koska pointed in a direction and before she could say something else, Bo had her helmet on and was sprinting to take off. The Mandalorian sighed and turned back to her work. There was no use in going after their leader, there was no stopping her.

Too far.

It seemed too far to the wreckage of her own ship. Her ship crashed in a blazing fury. Her people dying in her ship. Her Armorer?

Landing and continuing in a sprint, only stopping a few meters from the crash. The atmosphere had killed most of the flames by now, but it was still smoldering. The corpses smoking - the only thing left of them was their beskar. She took in the sight before her, steeling herself for what she had to do next.

Frantically, Bo-Katan searched the wreckage - hoping she wouldn’t find what Koska implied she would find. Tossing wreckage over her shoulders, trying her best to not injure her right hand anymore but there were more important things right now. It wasn’t until she reached what had once been the cockpit that she saw it. It stopped her right in her tracks.

There it was. The golden horned helmet. Bo could almost feel her heart crack under her beskar chestplate, as a quiet sob left her throat. Slowly, as if to hope she would wake up from this nightmare, the Mandalorian approached the helmet and gently picked it up in her hands.

Spark.

A spark from the smoldering electronics lit ablaze again causing Kryze to rush away from the wreckage, cradling the helmet close to her chest.

Away. Away. Away.

As far away as her legs would carry her, she ran away from her dreams where they laid on fire. Dropping to her legs as they gave out, she placed the golden helmet down on the ground. Ripping off her own helmet, she tossed it aside - not caring for anything reminding her right now. Tears had already been falling from her eyes but the helmet had kept them from falling to the ground - now they did. Her eyes blurry, Bo-Katan slowly cradled the golden symbol in her hands.

“Why?..” A oh-so quiet question to the person who had once worn this - who was now buried due to Bo’s dream. Her right hand carefully caressed the right side of the helmet. Her broken hand and her broken heart touching.

“I thought I would get to tell you in person.” She chuckled, her voice hurt, “She did it. The Great Forge and all of Mandalore is ours again.”

Shaking where she kneel, Bo could feel her hope she was so weary to feel again finally leave her. Her pride was not far behind it either. All the times she could have said something to a living person had passed and now she was faced with the situation before her - holding it in her hands.

“I thought I would get to tell you how I felt in person…” She whispered, “How you made me feel and how you made me stronger.” Subconsciously, Kryze had started rocking back and forth, sobs leaving her chest without her even knowing it. There were so many more words that could be said, but they didn’t matter now did they? They would only fall on non-existent ears anymore.

“Maybe you already knew?...” Maybe. It was all she could think. Hope? No, she wouldn’t hope anymore. Hope had always led her to more pain.

Bo-Katan slowly lifted the golden heart up to her forehead and closed her eyes. It was the closest she would ever get to being able to show her affection for the Armorer.

She stayed that way for a good while before finally remembering she had people to take care of. If she was gone too long they would have to send someone to find her and the last thing she needed right now was for someone to see her in this state.

“I will do my best to make you proud… To lead our people as you would have.”

Slowly, the Mand’alor stood up straight, the golden sun still in her hands, and walked to pick up her own helmet - quickly placing it back on her head. No one would ever see her like this. She refused.

As she turned back in the direction of the camp, she muttered one last thing - she couldn’t talk to a human-less helmet when she was around anyone, “You’ll love the Great Forge. I’ll be sure to show you, at least once…”

As the fire of her own ship died down behind her, Bo-Katan of House Kryze walked back to her people - her only strength resting in her hands in that golden horned helmet.

#nitearmor #armorkatan #bo-katan kryze #bo katan kryze #the armorer #bo katan x the armorer #bo-katan x the armorer #the mandolarian #fic #i will ferry them #angst

[lenfantdeverone]

TW: discussion of past rape/non con.

Despite not dealing with the details of Scott's past abuse, this story main topic is still rape and trauma. If you're not in the right head space to be reading about that, please take care of yourself first and foremost.

My intention with this work is to explore a reality that I deeply care about. Please keep in mind that english is not my first language! If you notice any grammatical error feel free to correct me, all constructive criticism are well accepted in this house. At the moment, I don't have a beta reader, so if this work turns out to be in any way harmful or offensive, please let me know and it will be promptly taken down.

....................

“Scott, please.” Virgil sat uncomfortably on the bed next to his older brother, shoulders hunched as he desperately tried to catch a glimpse of Scott’s teary eyes. Ever since he was rescued over two years earlier, Scott never allowed himself to cry. Until that moment, holding Virgil’s hands. “Please, talk to me.”

Scott’s shoulders were tense, his hands shaking uncontrollably as he desperately tried to find comfort and support between Virgil’s careful fingers. His eyes were hurting, filled with burning hot tears which were kept inside for far too long. He had hoped it would get better. He had hoped he would just get over the whole ordeal and go on with his life like a man. He couldn’t take how weak and vulnerable he felt.

“I don’t know…” Scott bit the insides of his mouth. Hard. So hard he tasted blood, and still, that didn’t scare his darkest memory away. “I don’t know why this is happening.” He cried out, chocking a desperate groan as his throat clenched uncontrollably.

Honorably discharged; yet Scott felt so humiliated and unworthy. He felt like had no honor, no dignity, he was too ashamed of himself and there was nothing he could ever do to deserve the respect everyone offered him so carelessly. Scott accused himself of being a fraud, a coward liar who hid behind his shame and took advantage of the people around him. He was dirty, a filthy rug with no self-respect, and yet there he was, clinging onto his innocent brother’s hands so carelessly.

“Breathe.” Virgil’s thumb caressed Scott’s hands ever so gently, breathing heavily to get his older brother to match his rhythm. “It’s ok. It’s just me, you are safe with me, ok? Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Virg, I…” Scott’s lungs were empty, his throat twitching and tensing, not letting any air inside or out. “I’m so sorry…” he whimpered weakly, keeping his eyes shut as he just couldn’t bear his brother’s sympathetic gaze. Scott refused to be pitied, he refused to be seen as the helpless, hurt and innocent victim.

“You don’t need to apologize.” Virgil assured him, his warmth so comforting yet Scott couldn’t allow himself to linger in his little brother’s care. “But please, allow me to know what is going on. Just tell me how are you feeling, I won’t judge you. Ever.” His voice was as warm and gentle as his hands, and for a moment Scott allowed his muscles to relax.

“I had to… I had to do terrible things back there, Virg.” Scott admitted, forcing the words out of his clenching throat. “I’m so ashamed of myself… I’m disgusting.” He could feel his brother’s worried eyes all over his body. His skin was burning, every inch of him was aching horribly, as the painful memories resurfaced from the depths of his core.

“Scott, stop… don’t.” Virgil almost begged, daring to brush his big brother’s hair with his fingers. “You were hurt… And what they did to you was never your fault. Never-“

“Except it was, Virg!” Scott’s desperate cries interrupted his little brother’s careful attempt at soothing his pain. “Not all of it but…” the confession was hard to make, his guts twisting and revolting. “I gave up at some point. I gave them what they wanted, because I’m a filthy rag and I’m so weak!” Scott felt bile rushing up his esophagus.

“Scott… Scott, look at me and don’t be scared. I’m on your side.” Virgil carefully cupped his brother’s face, gentle thumbs drawing circles on Scott’s red, hot cheeks. The eldest reluctantly pried his eyes open, terrified to stare into his little brother’s loving eyes through his tears “Are you… are you telling me you gave up information?” Virgil’s voice was shockingly thin, almost as if he was speaking the most vile and disgusting secret in the world.

“Never.” Scott’s jaw clenched, and he vigorously shook his head. “Virg I… I would never do that.”

“Then… what are you talking about, Scott?” Virgil asked, his pleading eyes staring deeply into through his brother’s tears, trying to grasp the source of his desperation “What did you give them? They tortured you for months, you did nothing wrong.”

“No, no, I did something horrible.” Scott shook his head almost convulsing, hugging himself with trembling hands. He bit his mouth hard, so hard, and he cried out in pain at the memories. He flinched away from Virgil’s touch, almost as if it hurt. “I did it...” he admitted, terrified. “I did it, I allowed it.”

“Scott, help me understand.” Virgil didn’t want to believe what his own mind was suggesting. He knew what the people in that damned place were capable of, he knew that his big brother was abused beyond imagination, but he… he just couldn’t take it.

“I don’t know how to… say it.” Scott looked so little, so vulnerable and frail. With his shivering shoulders hunched forward, his hands trembling as he traced the perimeter of his body, he looked so small. Virgil never saw his big brother like that.

“Scott…” Virgil was surprised and horrified when his brother flinched away just by hearing his voice. “Were you raped?” the word came out of mouth in a whim, he didn’t allow himself to stop and think of any other way of asking. He just needed to know, he needed to know the truth.

Scott gasped, his whole body freezing in place, his muscles as tense as a violin chord. He felt a hand grabbing his jaw, and no matter how hard he tried to convince himself that it wasn’t real, that no one was going to hurt him, it still felt so violating and painful. He couldn’t run away. Despite being safe, at home, that feeling would never disappear. He pried his lips open, desperate to make the pain away as quickly as possible, and he stayed like that until he realized that no one was going to abuse him again. He felt so stupid.

“No.” Scott denied, shaking that feeling off of his mouth, shallowing his fears. “No, I was not.” He shook his head, closing his eyes as he saw a face hovering just a few inches from his. A foreign breath on his shoulders. He had no way of running away. Hands. Please no. He screamed, but no sound came out of his mouth, his throat filled with that feeling that he would never be able to wash away. He couldn’t breathe, he just couldn’t breathe when there were so many of them and they never let him breathe.

“Breathe… breathe…” Virgil’s voice was distant, desperate, and Scott just wanted him to go away and not see him like that. Naked. On his knees. Complainant. Weak.

“I allowed it.” There was no way Scott would ever forgive himself for letting that happen to him. He fought back when they burned him, when they cut him, when they broke his bones, when they drugged him, when they strangled him, but he just let that happen. He gave up when they told him to open up, and he gave himself hoping it would hurt less. “It was not rape, because I allowed it.”

“No, Scott, please-”

“It didn’t even hurt..!” Scott let out a desperate chuckle, wondering how that excruciating pain didn’t reflect on his body at all. The doctors provided him with lengthy medical records of dozens of injuries, yet no one realized that his body was abused beyond that. No one bothered to check. “Rape is supposed to leave scars, doesn’t it?! Not a single inch of my body rebelled!”

“That’s not how it works-“

“And I came back here and I acted if nothing happened!” Scott cried out in desperation, hands buried in his hair, nails scraping his scalp. The pain was unbearable, the worst he had ever experienced. He gave himself and it still hurt him so bad he couldn’t forget a single moment of it. He was a waste, an eternally rotting piece of junk, and he would never allow himself the grace of forgiveness. “I hugged dad, I hugged you guys, I even hugged Alan! I’m filthy! And disgusting! And I’ve been passing this fucking dirt to the people I love…”

“Scott, breathe, please...!”

“I hid it from everyone because I’m too scared to admit that I’m a fucking whore and I don’t deserve to live!”

“SCOTT STOP IT!” Virgil immediately regretted screaming in Scott’s face, but he just couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t… he was crying, desperately trying to bring his brother back, he needed to keep him safe. “Please, please… stop it.” He begged, shaking hands carefully resting on his brother’s knees.

“I’m so sorry, Virgil…” Scott hid his face in his brother’s shoulder, crying desperately against the warm flannel shirt. “I’m so sorry.”

“You can’t think those things, Scott. You can’t… You can’t talk about yourself like that…” Virgil gently rubbed Scott’s back, careful not to startle him, or hurt him. “You’re my big brother… I love you more than anything, we all do, please just listen to me.” Virgil spoke slowly and calmly, almost whispering the words into his brother’s ear. “It wasn’t your fault. It was never your fault. We are so grateful to have you back, no matter what, and we will always love you.”

“I’m so sorry…” Scott lingered in his brother’s gentle arms a little longer, craving the gentle and painless hug of a loving brother.

“There’s no need to apologize.” Virgil sighed, holding him closer. “Thank you for telling me… thank you for trusting me with this, I will not let you down.”

“Please don’t tell dad… Don’t tell the others.” Scott begged, his voice slightly cracking at the mere idea of having to face the disgust and horror in his father’s eyes as he realized what horrible truths his eldest was hiding.

“I won’t… I will never betray your trust, but…” Virgil exhaled. “Scott they need to know. Not from me, but from you… One day. Whenever you’re ready. We’ll get there together, but they need to know.”

“It’s terrifying…” Scott admitted, shaking his head.

“We love you.” Virgil reassured him, gently caressing his brother’s face and drying those painful tears. “We love you so much. Everything will be alright… I’ll be here with you every step of the way.” He promised wholeheartedly, a thin, gentle smile slowly forming on his lips. The realization hurt, but his one and only priority at the moment was his brother. And he just couldn’t help but smile knowing that Scott, his hero, was finally safe at home, where no one could lay hands on him and hurt him ever again.

“Thank you, Virg.” Scott couldn’t smile, not yet, he had no strength left. But Virgil could read it in his eyes, how grateful he was. A weight had just been lifted from his shoulder, and he finally had someone tell him what he so desperately needed to know: it wasn’t his fault and everything was going to be alright. “Thank you so much.”

“Anytime, big bro.” Virgil left a loving kiss on his brother’s forehead. “Anytime…”

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2015 #scott tracy #virgil tracy #thunderbirds fanfiction #earth and sky #tw: abuse #tw: r*pe #tw: imprisonment #tw: sa #tw: rape #tw: war

[candycandy00]

So I've been seeing a lot of discussion lately about the Todoroki family subplot and some things that keep being brought up are these questions: "What should Endeavor have done? Should he have just kept encouraging Touya to be a hero even though he was burning himself? Wouldn't that make him an even worse father?"

So I wanted to talk about that. A lot of Endeavor defenders seem to think his heart was always in the right place, he only wanted to protect Touya from his own quirk, etc. And I totally disagree with that idea. Let me get this out of the way first: I don't hate Endeavor as a character. In fact, I think he's a very interesting and important character for the story, to show that heroes are not infallible, that they can seem upstanding to the public while being terrible in private.

And I also think his redemption arc is going well. At every single point, I had the fear that this would be it. This would be the moment his family suddenly forgives him and all his past deeds are swept under the rug. I was sure this would happen after his dramatic battle with the nomu in Kyushu. When I saw his kids watching the battle, I thought, "Here we go. All it took was one dramatic fight and he's forgiven." But it didn't happen that way, and I'm so glad it didn't. I'm so glad he has to WORK for it. He has to KEEP WORKING for it. And I do think it's possible for him to change and actually be a decent father to his children. If he keeps fighting for that. If he keeps up his good behavior and shows that he's a changed man. So, please don't assume I just hate his guts and don't want to accept any charitable opinions of him just because I'm stubborn.

So, about what he could have done differently with Touya. First of all, he could have not tied Touya's worth as a person and as a son to his potential to be a hero that can surpass All Might. He instilled that line of thinking into Touya from the very beginning, with no regard to how that could end up backfiring. He never should have put so much emphasis on that while raising Touya.

But, okay, what's done is done. What about after he realized Touya's quirk was injuring him, literally burning him? What could he have done differently at that point? Were his options truly limited to "let him keep burning himself alive" or "tell him to abandon his dream and then ignore him in favor of the child who can still make my dreams come true"? Of course not. There's a middle ground, and Endeavor made no attempt to find it because he was too preoccupied with Shouto.

What Endeavor should have done was actually have a real talk with Touya and LISTEN to him. Because then he would have known how important being a hero was to Touya. He should have told Touya "Yes, you can still be a hero, but we need to proceed more carefully and figure out a way to get around your weakness to fire. We'll find a way for you to use your quirk safely so you can be the best hero ever!" Even if he didn't believe it himself, Touya would have believed it. Because Touya was a child. And hey, with all the cool technology and support gear in this universe, it's entirely possible (maybe even probable) that they would have actually found a workaround for Touya's quirk. He should have encouraged Touya's dream while also explaining to him that he has to be more careful not to damage his body. He could have said something like "If you damage your body too much, you won't be able to be a hero in the future! So let's find a safe way for you to train!" And actually, you know, do that.

All of this pain and suffering, the creation of Dabi the villain, could have been avoided if Endeavor had only been willing to put in the time and effort it would require to keep training Touya (carefully) and maybe do a little research on ways to help prevent him from burning himself. But Endeavor didn't want to do that because he wanted to invest all of his time into poor Shouto. He didn't have TIME for Touya and Touya's dreams and Touya's weaknesses. The truth is, Endeavor must have known that Touya could still have been a hero, even with his weakness to fire. He just couldn't be a hero that would surpass All Might. And if he couldn't do that? Then Endeavor had no interest in him.

So yeah, Endeavor had other options. He was just so eager to move on from Touya, who would have been more difficult to train, to Shouto, that he didn't even try to explore any of those options. In short, he put his own needs and interests above the needs of his son, and this is the result. Endeavor doesn't get "good father" points for telling Touya to stop training and stop burning himself. Because it was never about Touya. It was about himself.

#Dabi #Touya Todoroki #Endeavor #Todoroki Touya #Boku no Hero Academia

[cherryrainn]

A one shot of dad!Onceler’s child coming out as trans (mtf) and him showing her love and support please? I’m currently in the closet and afraid to come out, so this would make me feel a little better. Thank you for all you do

yes!! you are loved and valid. come out when ready. we stand with you.

☽ ༚  ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰  ༵ ༚ ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰ 

— stepping into the light

(mtf) reader coming out to dad! onceler

you sat nervously at the kitchen table while your dad, onceler stood by the stove, flipping pancakes with practiced ease. the delightful aroma of the breakfast filled the air, but your stomach was tied in knots. you knew you had to do it today, but the fear of coming out to your father made your heart race.

"breakfast is almost ready," onceler said cheerfully, glancing over at you with a warm smile. "pancakes with a side of syrup."

you managed a weak smile in return, grateful for his attempt to ease the tension. onceler was an incredibly caring and attentive dad, but you couldn't shake off the fear of how he'd react to this revelation. taking a deep breath, you decided it was now or never.

"dad," you started, your voice trembling slightly. "there's something i really need to tell you."

he turned off the stove and sat down across from you, his eyes full of concern and love. "you can tell me anything, sweetheart. what's on your mind?"

you fidgeted with your fingers, trying to find the right words. "i... i'm trans, dad. i'm a girl."

a moment of silence passed as the words hung in the air, and your heart pounded in your chest. you were scared and vulnerable, and you couldn't bear the thought of your father's rejection.

then, something happened. onceler got up from his seat, walked over to you, and enveloped you in a warm hug. tears welled up in your eyes as his embrace provided comfort and reassurance.

"thanks for telling me, y/n," he whispered, his voice filled with genuine love. "i love you no matter what, and i'm so proud of you for being true to yourself."

the tears spilled over, and you clung to him tightly, feeling an overwhelming sense of relief and gratitude. your father's support meant the world to you.

"i was so scared," you admitted, your voice muffled by his shoulder.

"it's okay to be scared," onceler said, gently stroking your back. "but remember, you never have to face anything alone. i'm here for you, and i always will be."

you pulled away slightly, looking into his eyes. "really? you're not upset?"

his smile was tender and understanding. "upset? not in the slightest. you're my kid, and i love you for who you are. whether you're my son or my daughter, it doesn't change a thing."

the weight you'd been carrying on your shoulders slowly lifted, and a sense of acceptance washed over you. you had been terrified of rejection, but your father's love and support proved that you were not alone.

from that moment on, onceler made it his priority to educate himself and be there for you during your journey. he called you by your chosen name and used the correct pronouns, respecting you and showing unwavering love and support.

#onceler #the lorax #y/n #platonic #reader insert #x reader #onceler x reader #child reader #teen reader #fluff #ask #trans reader #transgender #coming out

[fangirljas]

"You were also right about Sirius being an irresponsible godfather”Harry said. Sirius inhaled sharply at that, and was about to hyperventilate…when Harry kicked him under the table....

....

“I mean, last year, when someone was plotting my murder, he was so rash that he lived in a cave eating rats to be near me, giving no thought about himself or about the worry his godson had to endure, thinking of what will happen if he got caught again. He should have been doing what other adults were doing sitting at home under security and weeping out of pity for that poor orphan boy like you did, Mrs. Weasley.”

All the color from Mrs. Weasley drained in one fell swoop.

“He was also highly irresponsible when he was communicating with me whole year giving me instructions of what to do and what not to do, what to learn, which spells to concentrate on, and to ignore the insults and focus on task at hand instead of all other responsible adults including professors at Hogwarts that just left it to the boy-who-lived, who was forced into the deadly tournament and to be ridiculed by everyone, as they pleased. He should have just come to the last spectacle of the tournament representing my family, like you and Bill did. But no, he remained near castle hiding till the end. Such a rash behavior, I tell you. And when I came back from graveyard and Barty’s murder attempt, he insisted that I go to rest, just by looking at my harried state (pun intended) when your beloved Dumbledore wanted to listen to the whole story first without giving me medical treatment when I had just been crucioed by Voldemort. Oh you’re flinching just at the name…brilliant…best of luck when you finally meet Him.”

“Harry, we know it was a hard year for you…” Mr. Weasley began.

“Oh no, that’s not the whole story of his misdemeanors. He is the only rash and irresponsible adult who asked me how was my summer and actually listened, when no one else seems to care. That I had to deal with dementors again when supposed adults were there to protect me. Your security system is so weak, and has been for years. No wonder I find myself in outrageous situations.” Mundungus made himself scarce., not wanting the ire on him next.

By this time, Sirius had his face in his hands and was completely still not able to look at anyone. Whether from relief, controlling laughter or crying at the state of affairs, no one knew even himself. His mind seemed to be doing weird acrobatics listening to all staunch support and trying to process through the tangled webs of insults and anger Harry seems to be holding for long.

“Of course we care, all have different ways to show that, Harry.” Remus Lupin said in that mildly calm voice, which irritated Harry further.

“Whatever makes you sleep at night, Professor” Harry snapped.

Enough of the argument, Harry. Remus has always been highly reasonable instead of Sirius. I don’t know what your parents were thinking naming him the godfather.” Mrs. Weasley muttered after hearing Tonks and Remus.

“Well, obviously you think so, as you are so prone to accept gossip as facts. After all, you treated Hermione unfairly last year because of a gossip article.”

“Harry, …” Hermione said weakly, not liking where the monologue was heading...

...

 “Did you know, Mrs. Weasley when I, Ron and Hermione met Sirius in shack that night, we also met a werewolf on full moon, who had just admitted that he had placed many students in danger before, and would’ve killed us or even worse bitten us all that night. But that didn’t happen, did you know why? Not because of the responsible adult professors like Lupin, who forgot to take his potion or Snape, who forgot to bring it when he realized what had happened. No, we were saved by rash decision maker Sirius, even though he had to leave Peter unattended. He should’ve left us to it, captured the rat and leave or just killed him in the shack itself. It was the evidence to prove his innocence after all, that’s why he escaped Azkaban according to you, didn’t he? You know Peter, right? He was the pet that was residing in your home for 12 long years, who actually betrayed my parents and kill those muggles. And no one noticed his presence, how’s that not irresponsible behavior Mrs. Weasley? A death eater at your home, endangering your children and you adults never noticed and did nothing about it.”

“How could you, when you like to just sit and wait for commands when I and my friends do all the thinking. Chamber of secrets or philosopher’s stone, ring any bell? Don’t give us info we will find it one way or another, but next time when I’m in danger and be sure I will be, because I may not be old to go to your order meetings, but I’m old enough for Voldy Moldy to give another go to kill me as he is doing from when I was a mere one-year old. And because my stupid, brave, loyal friends will follow me anywhere…this time I maybe won’t be able to save them because we don’t have all information needed, like I needed to save Ginny from Tom’s clutches or Hermione and Sirius from dementors, of course with the help of my friends Ron and Hermione, not any adults. I somehow even managed to win that goblet of fire thingy and squash several attempts of murder in one night, but couldn’t save...save Cedric. But remember, if that happens again and I lose another friend, I’m going to blame all of you supposed adults.”

....

“Also, from now on if any one of you say one word against my family, i.e. Sirius by the way…if you didn’t know already, I am not going to be this lenient with you lot. When last time someone insulted my parents in front of me, Moldyshorts to be precise, I duel him where even my parents showed up to help, scaring the shit out of him. And before that, when Aunt Marge made nasty comments about the parents of this orphan, I blew her up, without a wand. So be careful. I know you all think that you care about this Harry, but your actions says otherwise." he continued quietly, "Sirius may not have been there for me most of the time due to Azkaban Mrs. Weasley, but when I was a child scared out of my wits because of my accidental magic and the beatings I got after, stuck in my cupboard, all alone I used to dream of some flying motorbike and roaring laughter in the bright sky, which always used to put me in better mood, don’t know how. So you see, even when he was away from me, he was always with me in a way. And I won’t allow anyone to take that away from me. Ever!” he snarled.

Harry stood and pulled Sirius out of his chair, and directed him towards the door, “ Come on Sirius, I need to tell you something.” And for last time Harry looked at others over his shoulders and said “Good night everyone, sleep tight in Sirius’ home without worry of outside that has been graciously opened to all of you, since this is the safest place, isn’t it? Don’t worry, I won’t ask for information to anyone from now on, including to Sirius.”

“And I’m not telling you anything until you tell me, the story of chamber, cupboard and stone thingy” Sirius muttered. Harry groaned. “Of course, you focus on that part.” And they both exit the kitchen, leaving a stunned silence behind their wake.

(excerpts of conversation from my one and only fic...

#sirius black #harry potter #good godfather sirius black #sirius and harry #harry and sirius #sirius deserved better #i dont know why #good godfather sirius black fest #got me feeling some type of way

[aethramusings]

to all my future roleplay partners who muse anna : elsa was wrong .

please note , below the cut is a negative analysis of elsa . i do not think she is a bad character or person by any means , but i think that she was grossly mischaracterized in frozen 2 . this is merely my interpretation of the movie , and it is only an OPINION . this is not meant to upset or offend anyone .

i think a lot of people ( with obvious exceptions ) think i muse elsa because i like her as a character but to be honest i muse her primarily because she ticks me off . her first characterization in frozen was pretty neat , and i genuinely enjoyed her — but in frozen two , it’s like they took all of her flaws and then attempted to romanticize them / justify them because “ oH sHeS tOo DiFfErEnT “ .

elsa neglected anna’s feelings that entire movie . i understand that anna was reduced to “ “ crazy girlfriend “ “ trope or whatever , but either way — elsa ALWAYS ( in the second movie ) prioritized her own emotions over anna’s — whether she intended to or not . even if she was just trying to " protect " anna , she doesn't really seem to stop and think , " does anna understand WHY i'm being so reluctant to this ? " . of course communication goes both ways , but even still . i know that isn't necessarily realistic for elsa's character — but it's just weird that the movie seems to treat how elsa is treating anna as okay and acceptable and never address it again .

in ‘ olafs frozen adventure ‘ , we actually see elsa had the capacity to feel self aware and apologetic , because she literally apologizes to anna for storming out on her . but in frozen two , anna has to literally BEG elsa to come with — after elsa quite literally says “ no , you’re too weak , you might die “ ( didn’t you just think your powers were a burden ? ) .

and it’s not like elsa brings this up once and leaves it at that . she shows it SEVERAL times through her actions by “ saving “ everyone else , and then scolding anna for trying to help her . not to mention , elsa doesn’t seem like the type of person to not analyze a situation before running into it . i’m not saying she wouldn’t use her powers to help ( like she did in the enchanted forest with bruni — pointless plot point , by the way ) , but anna has shown time and time again that she is JUST — if not MORE — capable than elsa to handle herself . and elsa just keeps putting her down .

and it doesn’t come off as “ i want to protect you “ , which i think disney intended it as . it comes off as “ i am better than you , and want to be alone “ — which is a BOLD stance for disney to take , since the message of the first movie was “ you need to let your loved ones love you so you can love yourself “ . and now the message is . . . “ fuck your family , go find yourself you don’t need them ? ? “ i understand that elsa is an inherently independent character who clearly prefers to process her emotions alone , but — while this is valid — this is a REALLY bold take for a . . literate children’s movie to take . and to not address any of the emotional downsides that can come with this .

in the scene with elsa and anna at the shipwreck— elsa essentially makes anna witness an insanely traumatic event ( for what reason ? to ‘ know what happened ‘ ? could she not tell anna what she was planning to do and warn her to leave if she wasn’t mentally prepared to see that , at the very least ? ) , and then when anna is GRIPPING onto elsa for support , elsa . . runs away ?

i know that’s in elsa’s character , to cope with her emotions alone — but the fact that this is NEVER addressed again is insane to me . elsa goes “ they drowned because of ME . “ okay , sure , whatever . they did die trying to find the source of elsa’s powers . but to me , this comes across as incredibly “ this is MY trauma , anna . feel bad for ME . this is about ME . “ is this her intention ? of course not ! ! but it comes off that way to me . anna isn’t allowed to process her own emotions about seeing her parents in their last moments alive ( without her consent ) , she IMMEDIATELY has to put it aside to comfort elsa .

( i can understand the view of ‘ elsa feels more guilt surrounding this since she has trauma regarding her powers and feels like she , in a way , kind of killed her parents . ‘ that’s valid and totally makes sense . but that doesn’t negate anna’s relationship with her parents . she has just as much of a right to grieve and feel things as elsa does . while family should absolutely support each other through a loss like this , this carelessness and lack of regard for how this might be affecting anna and seeing her parents last moment against her will isn’t okay . )

and elsa thanks her , not by explaining to her “ i’m scared i’m going to lose you too , but this journey is really important to me . can we please find a compromise . “ — but instead sending her away on a boat . again , the message of “ i want to protect you “ is totally lost .

anna even addresses that she has every right to be mad — because , she does ! she has been pushed around and brushed off by elsa this entire journey , and all of her efforts are met with elsa belittling her . but the thing that makes me mad is : elsa NEVER sees ANY consequence for this . anna just , forgives her . and all is well .

obviously , i think elsa being the only one who got to see iduna is ridiculous , and the fact that they cut out the scene of agnarr and iduna gushing about how much they love anna is even more stupid , but i digress .

the ending of the movie is what really pissed me off , though . elsa DECIDES that anna “ gets “ to be queen . we never see the discussion , we just assume that elsa says , “ i’m gonna stay here , sooooo . . good luck ! “ sure , anna might have said yes , but what a shitty position to put your sister in ? “ hey , i’m gonna step down from the throne , technically sure you can refuse to take my place but good luck finding an heir BYE ! “ that’s not something you decide on a whim because you want to play horse girl in the woods forever .

and all of this would have been fine with me ! IF IT WAS ADDRESSED . but it’s not ! at the end of the movie , anna forgives elsa and all is well now . because elsa can’t have any flaws , because she’s elsa .

long story short , i roleplay elsa because the second movie REALLY grinds my gears . so , to any future partners i have that roleplay anna , please know : i don’t think elsa treated anna fairly at all . elsa living in the enchanted forest isn’t something that’s canon to my portrayal ( with a few exceptions ) , but i am more than willing to explore queen anna portrayals and how elsa and her navigate their relationship going forward . ( please note that i want their to be a solid relationship between muns before we explore this as angst threads are relatively emotionally exhausting for me ! )

#psd is 'peter pan' by tophbefong #long post tw #frozen 2 #frozen #elsa #disney #anna #PSD CREDIT TO 'TOPHBEFONG' ! #⸻ 🐈 tagged ; | OOC ⠀⠀ ✶ #⸻ 🐈 tagged ; | MUSINGS ⠀⠀ ✶ #⸻ 🐈 tagged ; | MINE ⠀⠀ ✶ #⸻ ❄️ elsa ; | FROZEN ⠀⠀ ✶