#I’m very big on buried stars despite there being NO presence for it in the western speaking world

[saphirered]

It is incredibly late (or early?) Where i live so excuse me if this is rambely.

I got an idea for a Lucien/Mollymauk/Kingsley request. And im Hoping once i have it out in the open I'll be able to sleep.

Basically Lucien and the reader were partners when his soul was scattered the same happened to the reader. They both woke up being buried with no recollection of who they were. Once they meet each other in the Mighty Nein they start getting closer a relationship forms they both feel a sort of pull towards one another. When Molly dies the reader doesn't and Lucien remembers the reader but they don't remember him but they feel the same sort of pull they felt for Mollymauk. Once Lucien is actually dead the reader dies of Wounds sustained but again wake up in a grave with no recollection. They meet Kingsley and again there is this sort of pull.

(basically to really quickly explain my idea, the reader's soul got shattered as did Luciens but their souls are forever linked they are meant to be with each other which is why through every revival they feel a pull towards each other)

Again i am so so sorry if this is weird but it's late and i felt the need to get this out and you were the first person i thought of because I've been reading your Mollymauk oneshots for the past few hours.

Good Morning, good day, good night! I love this concept and hope I did it justice and lived up to expectation. Enjoy 😘

He remembers it well. Your first meeting. Or supposed first meeting. Specifically it was your first meeting in this life. He remembers your whispers to the goblin and the ragged wizard when the fated group later becoming known as the Mighty Nein would first meet too. He was his charming self with his angel at his side ready to pull more patrons to the carnival. The carnival had been his home ever since he first looked up at the sky and saw the stars and moons. The moment he set foot in that tavern, something felt so eerily similar to that emptiness. That something was you. He should have run, Molly should have run while he still had the chance but he couldn’t, or wouldn’t. He’s a stubborn one after all and not even his own instincts could tell him what to do. Sure, who knows? You might be dangerous but you’re not dangerous to him. You’re just… lovely. He’d never even said a word to you. How about he changed that? 

“And you? We’d be honoured to have your esteemed presence, my dear. The cards say I should show you your fate, are you willing to see it?” Despite his typical grin and charm you didn’t fall for his ways so quickly. You simply huddle within yourself crossing your arms and making yourself small to take off attention. You’re so used to moving through the shadows you’ve forgotten what it’s like to live in the light. 

“I’m not that big a believer in fate I’m afraid, but thank you.” That voice sent shivers up his spine. Like a beautiful song that could bring him to tears. Something within himself, he doesn’t know why but it speaks to relief and comfort. 

“You should, you should, you should. Look at the reading I got!” The blue tiefling Jester bounces up and down and you curve a smile. Hesitation. He can work with that. 

“For you, love, I’ll even do it for free. Whether you believe or not, I think you can appreciate the irony in holding your fate in your own hand by card, no?” He winks. You cover a snort. 

“Fine. I’ll draw a card.” You hold up your hands in surrender and cringe when Jester squeals interposing between the two of you excitedly. He could kiss that tiefling for unknowingly being his wingwoman in that very moment. Molly fans out his cards holding them in one hand and with a dramatic bow offers them to you face down letting you pick on. Your fingers brush over the surface until you settle on one and pull it from the deck. He rises fully and equally dramatic. You roll your eyes but fight a smile turning the card towards him. 

“The Moon and the Mirror! The first card that ever called to me. One could say our fates are intertwined.” He winks and that smile breaks through when you shake your head in disbelief. 

“I think you say that to everyone.” You retort. You’re unsure whether you mean it or not. Something from the moment the literal and figurative peacock set foot in this tavern there has been something that just changed. Something fell in place. If the world was wrong before, it was right now. It doesn’t make any sense and yet it does but you can’t explain it. It just is. Part of you is frightened. Another part, so deeply rooted wants to indulge. It’s as if this tiefling has the answers to the questions you didn’t even know you had. 

“Only to beautiful stories.”

“Beautiful stories?”

“That’s what the Moon means. The moon represents beautiful stories. Even when the clouds cover, the moon’s still there. Whether people see it or not, that’s a different thing. Your story is yours, even if you hide it, wrap it in layers and disguise, doesn’t mean it’s not there.” You take in a noticeable breath. That’s what he was looking out for. He’s spot on. You’re carrying a glamour of your own to cover this past of yours and that’s okay. He’s not telling everyone his life story. Okay maybe he is but none of them are true. Even if it were, nobody would be able to tell the difference. 

“And the Mirror then?” You raise an eyebrow attempting to deflect. He’ll play along. 

“So you are interested in your fate after all.” 

“Well you do make it sound so alluring.” You lean onto your elbows. Oh he likes you. Molly is done for. He likes you a lot. He could get used to your company. 

“You are far too kind. The Mirror faces us with the truth, as bitter as it may be sometimes. Even the shadows reflect in the mirror. A reveal awaits on your horizon. It’s up to you if you’re ready to face it.” You take in his words. Something has changed. You just don’t know what or why but this tiefling may just have something to do with it. Is this fate after all? No. Just life, or so you tell yourself. 

————

You loved him. He was torn away from you far too soon. You loved him and when he left, with him he took your heart. Your world is bleaker without him. When you visit the places of your memories together, they replay in your head. When you’re in your room and the door opens, you wait for that lavender tiefling to walk in boasting about his latest sham or in various stages of undress, showering you in affection until you tell him you’ll vomit from his ridiculousness. Even the times you were at odds. You’d give the world for just another day with him. Molly died. You’d held his body as he grew cold. You stared into those ruby eyes but nevermore saw the life in them. You closed them and so your world dulled and never fully recovered. They say it gets easier with time and it does. Life moves on and it’s easier to go along with the motions as time passes but there’s not a day you don’t miss him. Not a day goes by where you don’t think of him. Sometimes at night when you wake you look at the sky, look at the moon and talk to him. He might not be there but you like to pretend he’s watching sometimes. 

It turned out you both had similar stories. You’d never even gotten the chance to fully tell him yours. The two of you had lived focussing on the lives you had now as opposed the earth you crawled out of and that haunted loneliness you awoke with. You can’t help but wonder that feeling, that emptiness is as close a feeling you got these days. You continued with the Nein while he lay buried. Or used to. Molly died but someone else returned in his stead; the one who ended up in the grave he crawled out of in the first place. Molly is dead and now with that face walks a man who can never be him. You’ve seen him-Lucien in flashes of visions before, faded memories that make you frightened of the past you never lived. It’s not your past after all. Someone else lived it in the body you now call yours. The person before is dead and gone. Same as Lucien should have been. It frightens you because what little you know, you know not what your predecessor was to Lucien, or who they were in general. What if he wants that version back? What if that version comes back? What if you cease to exist and this other person takes over? 

But then you met the devil himself. Lucien, what a curse to know him. He shares the same face as your Mollymauk but he is not the same. They share some traits, some little habits you recognise. Each and every one is a dagger to your heart. You think he noticed too. He called you by that name, the one that was never yours. It must have just slipped because the horror in your eyes had given you away. He quickly corrected himself. He didn’t call you by that name again but you swore you could hear it like a whisper upon the cold breeze of Eiselcross sometimes. Like molly Lucien is charming but everything about him is with a darker undertone. When he is charming it feels like a predator coaxing a prey right between their teeth. When he smiles it’s belittling or a calm before the storm, something laced in a fury you cannot begin to comprehend. Despite all of this, that same pull remains. That same pull that brought you to Molly, it calls you to Lucien. You don’t want to get close. Fire burns after all and you have a feeling Lucien is an inferno in disguise. 

Lucien can’t help himself though. You once meant the world to him. Well not you-you of course. The version of you he lost in his own demise. When he drew his first breath yet again, and you weren’t there. He’d have pulled you from the soil himself, dragged you right out of hell. You weren’t there. Someone else had taken your place. Someone new. A new you. The similarities are uncanny. The way you talk and move, it’s like a warped mirror and every time he gets a spark of hope that you might still be in there, he’s proven wrong. You’re not the person he knew. You’ll just have to be another means to an end at best. Another nuisance at worst. That doesn’t make it any easier. He’s not felt alive in his time beyond the veil but now you’re here so close yet so far away, he feels alive like never before, not since he got separated from you. You’re a candle and he’s the moth. He refuses to get burned. 

Then it comes down to it. A fight. He gave you a chance. You picked your side. You joined the Mighty Nein and abandoned him. You made your choice. He’ll deal with the ashes. He takes no pleasure in ending you but no matter what version; you’re a stubborn one and incredibly loyal. You had no loyalties to him, not anymore. Why should he hang onto his loyalties to a ghost? He let it all go even though that sounds easier than it was. It burned him to hurt you. With each injury he inflicted, he felt every single strain, each scream and cry of pain shattered his very soul into fragments. It’s alright or so he kept telling himself. He’d bring you back once this is over; the real you, the true you and the one he held so dearly. He’ll have you back. Not this fragment. 

Something within him shattered when he delivered that killing blow. You fell to your knees. You looked at him and he just saw sadness. You looked at your friends but he couldn’t care less about them. He took a good few hits in his distraction as that damned fragment you had grown attached to gained a little more control than he allowed. He watched the light drain from your eyes, your friends tried to rush towards you as you fell to your knees. You couldn’t breathe anymore. Lucien could feel something crack when you hit the ground and remained unmoving. He tried to move on and deal with your companions. In the end it would mean his own demise. They were too late to get you. When he fell, he met your eyes; never shut. Lucien would be dead. 

————

The Mighty Nein tried to resurrect you. It didn’t work. Not twice would they be so lucky. They took your body, had a funeral in true Mighty Nein fashion, and laid you at rest in the Blooming Grove to be watched over by Caduceus. They grieved you but their lives continued. Kingsley didn’t understand who you were. They tried to explain, explain who you were to Mollymauk. He got it. For some bloody reason he completely understood. When he first saw you you were dead and something within him felt missing, despite being surrounded by love in his resurrection, a piece of a puzzle he could not comprehend never truly fit together. When he saw you, he knew the missing piece had to do with you but the dead don’t just rise and the ritual had failed. You were truly gone. No one saw but for some reason tears did fall when the firbolg performed the burial rites. He didn’t even know you so why was he crying over you like he lost someone so near and dear to his heart? Like he lost a piece of himself. 

One night on the ship far off on the ocean with his captain and trickster partner in crime; the life he’d grown quite used to, something changed. Something in the very air he breathes. The world got a push in the right direction. He didn’t know why or how but somehow it made sense. Some tether pulled him back to that graveyard, told him to go there. Not long after, Jester was freaking out and the wizard was summoned; they had to get back to the mainland fast. They had to get to the Blooming Grove. No one had told him and despite this being the perfect opportunity to commandeer the ship he had longed to captain for himself, he couldn’t just let them go without him. He had to come along. He did. 

From the moment Kingsley stepped into that forest temple, where he saw a shellshocked individual seated on a stool staring into the abyss covered in dirt and a blanket, whatever piece of him he missed from the moment of his resurrection, returned and fell into place. That void within suddenly wasn’t so empty anymore. You hadn’t been responsive until his entrance, or so Clay had told them all. Kingsley approached you. You stared at him with such wonder and a recognition he must have held too in his first moments of life. You felt it too. Everything just made sense. You reached for him, just a finger, trembling and hesitant. The pad of that finger pressed against his cheek. There wasn’t much force behind it but were he standing instead of on his knees already, he might have fallen then and there. 

“M-Mo… Moon… Moon.” It took you some time to get the word out. 

“Moon?” Kingsley asked you though he did not expect a response. It took him while too to truly get to his senses and given the hour and your current state, you must have freshly crawled out of your grave. He feels sorry for you. 

“Moon.” You affirm and place your palm flat over his heart. You tap it. “Moon.” He looked towards the Mighty Nein for some explanation. The one he got, that might as well have broken his heart a little. And should you return to your senses, whoever you might be, he’ll be happy to hold it over your heart your first word implied you found him beautiful. 

This might just be the beginning of something beautiful. One thing is for sure. This’ll be a fresh start. You get to decide who you want to be. Like him you’ll be loved no matter what. He’ll make sure of it.

#mollymauk x reader #lucien x reader #kingsley x reader #mighty nein x reader #critical role x reader #mollymauk tealeaf #lucien nonagon #kingsley tealeaf #critical role mollymauk #critical role #mighty nein #critical role fanfiction #critical role fanfic

[ministarfruit]

minifemslashfeb day 26: performance ♡

#minifemslashfeb2022 #buried stars #inha oh #juyoung min #houughhhh buried stars girls my darlings my queens #one of the only games I've liveblogged and oh my god. #I can't spoil it but the way I absolutely lost my mind #I have on record the exact moment my heart broke #juyoung special to me <3 #I MISS JUYOUNG SOOO MUCH JUYOUNG CALL ME #I’m very big on buried stars despite there being NO presence for it in the western speaking world #like I was going to do a video review on it and everything #but the ending I have never had my soul so thoroughly SNATCHED #I still haven't recovered. #anyway. if you want pointers hmu

[13uswntimagines]

We’ve Got Your Back (Alpha!Christen x Reader)

Request: Alpha christen press fic😍 and does it make me a horrible person cuz I want to see what christen would do to Hinkle? (Not to mention broon, uncle, ash....) 

Pt. 1

Author’s Note: So this turned out a touch different than i had planned. Let me know what you think! 

It was strange being back here. Back in the city, the stadium, that had almost been the sight of your demise. At least they had stuck the team in the visitor’s locker room. You didn’t know if you could have handled being back in that room. 

You rolled your shoulders and tapped the ball back towards Lindsey, sending the alpha a tight smile and trying to drown out the sea of unpleasant emotions threatening to pull you under. 

It was a stupid idea for Us soccer to have the team face off against the NWSL Allstars. You were part of the NWSL for goodness sake, it wasn’t like you didn’t play against these people already. It also meant you had to play against Her in the stadium she tortured you in. 

“How you holding up?” Christen asked, suddenly coming up behind you. She grabbed your clenched hand, coaxing your fingers open and intertwining them with her own. She let out a wave of her calming scent, trying to soothe you as much as she could with minimal contact. 

Though the two of you had… consummated your matting, and despite your normal cocky flirting, the two of you really weren’t into public displays of affection and there were thousands of eyes on you right now. 

You hadn’t even realized you were digging your fingernails into your palms. 

“Great now that you’re here hot stuff,” You tried to smile convincingly back at your mate, squeezing her hand tightly. She let out another wave of her calming scent, her eyes flickering around your face. 

One of the first lessons she had learned from Rose was that you never said when you were uncomfortable, but your tells always gave you away. 

“Always the charmer,” Christen said, a light blush covering her cheeks. 

You smirked at the alpha, shrugging. “It’s hard not to be when you always come out here looking like that”

She rolled her eyes at you, entirely used to your flirting. It hadn’t taken her long to realize that it was a coping mechanism for you. Whenever you were stressed or uncomfortable, your flirting intensified. 

It was a way for you to avoid your true emotions. 

“I’m literally wearing the same outfit as the rest of the team,”

You pulled your blushing alpha closer to you by your connected hands. You ran your nose over her cheek  “Hmm, but the rest of the team doesn’t have the-,”

The comment died on your lips when you caught sight of a certain alpha. You tensed even though she was stuck on her half of the field, separated from you by nearly the entire squad and the team of “Allstars”. But none of that had mattered last time. It hadn’t mattered that you were in a room full of people (nearly half of which were your national team teammates) or that the coaching staff knew what she was doing. 

Christen’s eyes followed yours, and she couldn’t suppress her growl (both for the other player being included in this game and the unpleasant emotions fluttering through your bond). 

“Vlatko swapped us, so you can stay on the left today. I’ll take the right and Alex will stay center,”

“You guys don’t need to do that. I can handle it,” You mumbled, suddenly finding the way your cleats ran through the grass incredibly interesting. 

Christen sighed, running a finger under your chin, grazing your scent gland as she tilted your chin up. “We know you can, just let us be a little protective over you, alright?”

You nodded biting your lip. You weren’t a weak omega, and you knew that the second you hit the field whatever grand plan they had was going to go right out the window. 

Well, part of it at least. You were sure that a certain alpha’s very white uniform was about to be stained very very green. 

****

You launched yourself across the pitch towards your mate, barely stopping to watch as your shot sailed past Jane Campbells outstretched fingers. You were having a blast skirting past the all-star defender, and fielding through passes and crosses from the Mewis’ and The great Horan. 

“Good goal baby,” Christen said, smiling wildly as she scooped you up in her arms and pressed a kiss to your neck, just above your mating mark. 

You pulled back, smiling at the alpha and flicking her lightly on the nose. “Good? That was fucking amazing! Did you see me put Stanton on her ass?”

Christen nodded, setting you back on your feet with a wide smile. “Yeah, and Kling. But I think I’ve seen Tobin do the same footwork before. I call plagiarism,”

You pouted, flicking the side of your alphas head again. “That’s not fair, I deserve a reward,” 

Christen grabbed your wrist as it migrated down her waist with an eye roll. “Behave little one,” 

She growled playful at you, about to lean up and nip your neck again, but the presence behind her stopped her. You whined loudly, displeased that she had stopped. 

“Get your omega under control Press,” You tensed at the alpha’s voice, burying your face in Christen’s neck, afraid that even the scent of Hinkle would make you lose your composure altogether. 

Christen's growl turned low and dangerous and was echoed by several of the teammates beginning to crowd around you. When your alpha promised the team would have your back, she meant it. 

“Come on Y/n,” Mal said, cautiously breaking from the group to approach you. Her hand carefully touched your back, avoiding any skin. No one wanted to test your alpha's control any more than the asshat on the field was. 

Christen made eye contact with the omega inching towards you, tearing her gaze from Hinkle. She nodded at Mal, coaxing you out of her neck and kissing your cheek. “go babydoll,” raising her eyebrow when you wined, but still pushing you towards Mal. You poured as Mal dragged you across the field, away from the brewing storm. 

You didn’t need to be in the middle of an alpha battle. You wouldn’t tell anyone, but you were fragile and she didn’t want you to have to feel her dominance when she put Hinkle in her place. 

She didn’t want to risk accidentally forcing you to submit. She would die before she did that. 

“that one needs a firmer hand,” Hinkle scoffed, as Christen walked back towards her position, waiting for Sheridan to put the ball back into play. 

“Why don’t you mind your own business?” Christen growled lowly, her eyes following you as you grossed the field with Mal. Lindsey sent her a stiff not. The entire team was behind you. 

“Just saying that I could give you some pointers if you wanted them,” Hinkle shrugged as though she didn’t feel the insane tension on the pitch. Christen scoffed catching her arm, spinning the alpha to look at her. She didn’t need any advice on how to deal with you. You were a handful, but you were her handful, and she was glad you were comfortable enough with her to show her your playful side. 

“Don’t waste your breath,” Christen said, letting out her dominant scent. 

*****

The Women’s national team was known for its impeccable control. With so many strong alphas in one place, it was imperative for the team's functionality and their commitment to equality.

But tonight that control was nowhere to be found, and it wasn’t just the alphas that were going a little crazy. The pitch was total chaos and at the epicenter was Hinkle. 

From the crazy tackles Lindsey, Becky, and Christen herself were committing, to the lengths Rose, Mal, and Alex all went to keep you as far from the Alpha as possible while still letting you put balls on goal. Vlatko’s tactics had gone out the window and the team was operating like a disaster (a very successful disaster as you had already scored 4 times against the all-stars, but a disaster nonetheless). All teeth and growls. 

You were just thankful that the game was over, and that you could finally escape the place with so many bad memories. And the mix of dominant pheromones that hung in the air, putting you even more on edge. 

You headed back towards the tunnel, uncharacteristically ignoring the opposing team trying to approach you for handshakes, and the fans screaming for your attention. It was unnerving to have your typically dosel alpha acting so aggressive. 

It pulled your inner omega so close to the surface, and you weren’t sure how you felt about that. 

“You know it’s wrong to ignore your superiors little omega,” The voice stopped you in your tracks. Your shoulders hunched and you seemed to almost fold in on yourself. 

An arm wrapped around your waist, shielding you from Hinkle. You relaxed a little at the scent of your best friend's mate. “Just ignore her,” Mal said softly, pulling you into her. 

Hinkle snarled at the two of you, rushing forwards to stand right in your path. You took in a sharp breath, your nose twitching at the press of Hinkle’s pheromones. You fought the urge to submit, the urge she had drilled into your skull from the time you joined the Courage to the time you finally made your escape. 

“What, your alpha didn’t teach you any manners either,” 

Mal tensed around you. You squeezed your eyes shut tight, waiting for the next blast of her potent scent. The one that would bring both of you to your knees. The one from your memories. 

“You need to back the fuck off,” Ashlyn’s protective growls were suddenly separating you from Hinkle, shortly joined by Becky, Alex, Rose, and Lindsey. 

“Or what?” She challenged, stepping up so she was eye to eye with the much taller alpha. 

“Come on girlies, let’s get you to the back, they can handle this,” Ali said softly, trying to pull you and Mal around the wall of alphas and the dominant cloud of pheromones beginning to form. You let her pull you around the alphas, trying to keep your head down. 

“No, she stays,” Hinkle sneered, catching your wrist as you passed. 

The reaction of the team was instant, but none was more prominent than your own alpha’s (who had been caught up singing posters with Tobin). It was a big No-no to touch someone else’s mate. 

“Take your hand off of her. NOW,” Christen growled, sending a wave of very dominant and very terrifying pheromones directly towards Hinkle. Even the little edge that caught you made you freeze and sent a shiver down your spine. The alpha immediately released you and whimpered as she fell to her knees. 

Christen smirked viciously (her typical kind-hearted ness nowhere to be found). She was the stronger alpha, and she wanted Hinkle to know how it felt to be forced to submit. She wanted her to feel the humiliation of being surrounded by people who wouldn’t help her. She wanted her to know what she put you through. 

Mal and Ali both tucked you into them and started directing you towards the locker room. Emily stepped in behind you, shielding you from where your alpha was towering over the shaking Hinkle. 

They were right, you didn’t need to see this. 

*****

The walk back to the locker room was short, but it felt like forever. The omegas spent it emitting their soothing scents, trying to calm your frayed nerves (which were only amplified by the emotions fluttering down your bond with Christen). 

If the little edges of Christen's dominant pheromones were that strong, you could only imagine what it felt like to be caught in a full blast. That thought alone terrified you. She was always so careful with you, but what if she lost control. 

“Shh, kid you’re ok,” An arm wrapped around you and gentle hands guided your shaking form to sit on the bench. 

You shook your head rapidly. You were a lot of things right now, but ok wasn’t one of them. 

You opened and closed your mouth several times, but no sound would come out. What if you upset your alpha and made her lose control? You loved to push her buttons. 

“Hey, You gotta breath y/n,” Mal said, suddenly appearing crouched in front of you. She grabbed your hands, flattening out your palms to prevent your nails from digging further into your arms. She bit her lips at the stressful pheromones pouting off of you, she had only seen you like this once. A very long time ago (ironically in the same place you were now). 

“Em, go get Rose,” She said, not taking her eyes off of you. Your best friend was probably the only person who could help you. 

Emily’s eyes widened. There was a reason why most of the team’s omegas were in the locker room instead of hanging out in the field with their mates. It was one thing to put an arrogant alpha in their place, and another to risk accidentally forcing an omega to submit. 

The team was insanely protective, and going out there while their instincts were on edge wasn’t a good idea. 

“I think she’s got her-...” Emily started softly, lightly touching Mal’s shoulder. 

“Wasn’t a question,” Mal growled, cutting her off, and finally taking her eyes off of you. You whimpered at the tone, your head tilting slightly and Emily nodded rapidly. 

“Right, I’ll go right now,”  

She exited the room at a near run. She didn’t quite understand what was wrong, but she knew you desperately needed someone. 

****

Emily wasn’t sure what she expected when she exited the tunnel, but it wasn’t Rose and Christen standing over a shaking Hinkle (she would have pegged Ashlyn and Becky as way more likely to get themselves into this situation). 

As she approached the group (and the insane cloud of pheromones, seriously they were going to need to fumigate the place)she caught the tail end of Christen's deep rumble. “That’s a despicable excuse for-...”

“I’m sorry to interrupt this-...” Emily said slowly coming up behind her alpha. She kept her eyes down and her hands out, very careful not to provoke the angry hoard any further. 

Lindsey whipped around, gulping to try and restrain her instincts. She lightly grabbed her omega’s wrist to prevent her from getting closer to the scene. All hell would break loose if one of the omega’s accidentally got hurt. “Go back to the locker room. We’ll be there after we finish,”

Emily shook her head, finally looking into her alphas eyes. “No. You don’t-“ 

Lindsey’s eyes hardened as she cut her omega off. “I’m serious Em,”

Emily glared at her alpha, ripping her arm from her grasp. “So am I. I need Rose or Chris because y/n is like having a panic attack,” She practically spat. 

She hadn’t known you for as long as Mal had, but she still felt the omega bond with you. The overwhelming urge to protect one of their own when they were in distress. If they needed an alpha to help you, then an alpha she would get, come hell or high water. 

Christen and Rose both looked up at the mention of your name, as did the alpha on her knees.  The alphas seemed to blink back to themselves, letting up on their emission of pheromones. 

“Pathetic,” the woman on the ground mumbled.

The answering growl from the group was instant, low, and very dangerous. “Don’t you start,” Ashlyn said, her voice deadly soft before looking back up at the two struggling alphas. “Go, we can finish this,” 

Rose and Christen nodded, sending one last snarl towards Hinkle before following Emily down the tunnel. 

****

Christen took in a sharp breath at your distinct scent, freezing in the doorway. The locker room air was saturated with stressed and terrified pheromones. Any remaining anger she may have felt for the asshole out on the field disappeared and was replaced by worry for you. 

Rose moved first, pushing past your frozen mate and joining her omega on the floor in front of you, crouching down to your level. If you noticed newcomers to the room, you didn’t show it. You were stiffly sitting on the bench in the corner, staring off into space. 

Rose gently rubbed your knee, trying to bring you back to yourself. “Hey Kitkat, what’s going on?”

You blinked down at the alpha, your head tilting automatically. “Nothing. I’m fine,” you said robotically and Rose’s eyebrows furrowed. 

She had only seen you like this once, and that was after-... it was too horrible to even consider. 

“Yeah, no one believes that,” She mumbled, using a finger to stop you from showing off your neck. 

“I -...” you started, but the words got stuck in your throat, caught between an answer and a sob. 

“Did all the pheromones bring back bad memories?” Christen asked, finally taking a step inside the room. She had gotten very good at reading you since you had mated and she knew you better than you knew yourself sometimes. 

You nodded, finally looking up at the alpha. Your alpha. You took her in, how she seemed more relaxed (minus the worried lines in her forehead) and her scent was its usual cinnamon and spice. 

The heavy dominance was gone. It wasn’t the terrifying figure that had confronted a monster from your past, no this was your Chris. 

She took another few slow steps towards you. Rose and Mal moved out of the way to give your alpha room in front of you. 

“You’re just so strong. What happens if I push too far?” You asked quietly. 

And finally, the pieces clicked in everyone’s heads. Christen shook her head and took your hands. “I would never baby. What you saw-. It’s different with other alphas,” 

It was embedded in the fabric of the team (and the countries) culture. You never ever forced an omega to submit, but submission had a different effect on alphas. It wasn’t uncommon for them to assert dominance over each other, and forcing full submission was a way to show an errant alpha bow off base they were. Alphas didn’t experience the emotional distress that came with full-blown submission. 

“Promise?” You asked, your voice small. 

“With everything I am. You can poke and prod and make me blush, but I will never do what she did to you,” Christen said, kissing the back of your hand and looking you in the eyes to show you just how serious she was. 

She waited for your shoulders to relax before releasing a wave of her soothing scent and pulling you into her. You trusted her, and you felt comfortable that she would keep her promise. 

If she didn’t you knew about 22 people who would have your back. 

#uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #uswnt x reader #christen press imagine #christen press x reader

[wri0thesley]

hi nat!! i noticed requests were open and remembered “randomlyncrying during/after sex” angst being mentioned and i just👀😳🙏

ive had personal experience with that (mostly bc being vulnerable and intimate is scary yet cathartic for me, its not even necessarily sad crying or happy crying its just Strong Emotions) and i was wondering if u could do some like smut to hurt/comfort kinda with that specific scenario please🤭 maybe with risotto or abba bc i just want to be fucked AND comforted by a big strong goth man!!😩🙏

overwhelming - risotto x reader (2k)

warnings: crying during sex. afab reader. neutral pronouns. 

Everything about Risotto is overwhelming. The way he looks at you; the colours of his eyes. The low, gravel voice – the way he speaks only when he thinks he has something worth hearing. The touch of his hot, large hands on your skin – his width, his height, the knowledge of what he could do to you--

It’s even more overwhelming when you are beneath him in bed.

His body caging yours; the scarred, muscled chest and how it seems to heave in and out as he breathes. The scent of him – leather and iron and smoke – wrapping all around you, until he is everywhere. In your nose, in your mouth, his face flashing across your head as you pull him down into another kiss and he worries at your bottom lip, insistent and hot and needy.

Big hands run all over your form; taking his time to enjoy the way you feel, the curves and divots of your figure, the softness of you beneath his own calloused, work-weary hands. You feel like you fit into his grip perfectly – like you were made for him. You inhale sharply as his hands spread your legs apart, exposing the heated, slick valley of your sex to the warm air of the bedroom.

It always seems to be warm when Risotto is around. He kicks out heat merely by existing; and you cling to him in bed for it, grateful to be reminded of his presence.

“You’re so beautiful,” he dips his head to murmur, his voice deep and dark. Whenever he speaks, you feel a rush of desire go through you to pool at the apex of your thighs; there is something about the sonorous bass of his voice that makes your toes curl and that echoes through you, making you feel as though you are the only person in the world. “Look at yourself, tesoro.”

You do not see what he sees – but you do see the worship in his eyes. The hunger as he presses your legs further apart and leans into you, as you feel his hard cock press against your thigh insistently.

He is a careful man, despite his profession, and he knows that what he has between his thighs is too much for many people. He never sheaths himself inside of you straight away; even now, when you are fair pooling slick on his already messy sheets, one of his big hands is cupping your mound.

Calloused thumb rubbing over your clit, coaxing heat and sighs and little rocks of your hips. One large, lone finger – sliding inside of you, rubbing against your walls with the practise of a man who knows your body as intimately as he knows his own. Your head rolls back and you display your neck for him; vulnerable, and needy, and utterly his. He does not leave your neck unmarked – his lips are on you in moments, sucking love-bites, nipping bruises, his finger still pumping in and out of you.

Two fingers. You tangle your own grip into his silvery pale hair and pull his mouth to yours so that you may kiss him – he tastes like iron, always. You do not find it unpleasant; blood is a taste that you have grown to appreciate, because it reminds you of him. Three fingers, and you hear the wet squelch of your arousal, feel it dripping out of you with every rock of his hand. His thumb has stopped teasing your clit, but the rough heel of his hand is now continuing the onslaught of pleasure. With every thrust, it rubs against the swollen bud, and you feel your stomach begin to tie itself in knots.

He pulls them out of you with a slick gush, the hand formerly buried inside of you coming to lift your leg so he can slot his hips in between you. His fingers are dripping wet, but he has eyes for nothing but you beneath him. Rose-red irises meet your own, as if to ask you; ‘is this alright? Do you need me to stop?’

For an assassin – for a man feared around Italy, though they do not know his name – Risotto is never anything but gentlemanly with you. He asks your permission, holds you afterwards, kisses you and soothes you and murmurs your name filled with affection even when you are around the other members of your team.

“Special treatment,” some of them huff, rolling their eyes – but they shoot you sly smirks. They do not begrudge their capo his happiness – not in such a business as theirs.

“Risotto,” you breathe, looking up at him. “Please—”

The please is enough. Your other leg is lifted gently, hitched up so he can press your knees to your chest. You’ve had to experiment with positions plenty, in order to find things that are comfortable with Risotto’s height and his size and your own limitations – but this one always makes him seem to hit you deeper, further. His cock head pushes against the tight ring of your entrance, catching on you--

And his eyes meet yours as he begins to press himself inside of you. There is so much tenderness contained within them that you are almost lost for words. You would not think that eyes like that could make you feel so utterly adored – when you had first met Risotto, they had filled you with fear. Now, though, you look at them and you see all of the things that Risotto is too afraid to say out loud, contained within their multitudes.

He’s slow as he hilts himself, letting you feel the stretch of your walls around him. He’s always slow with you – like he’s afraid you will break. People who see him out and about, you know, never imagine how careful or tender he is.

Your head tips back again, into the pillow, as you see stars. He always fills you up. It’s indescribable, how right that he feels inside of you. You feel like he was made to slot inside of you – every time this happens, you don’t feel quite right until his heavy balls slap against your sex and he has bottomed out, filled you up, and the two of you are as connected as it is possible for two human beings to be.

Your breath catches as he pulls out, as he seeks to find a rhythm that works for both of you. In this position, you cannot quite get purchase on his shoulders – but Risotto sees to that himself, his big hands entangling and entwining with your fingers to press your held hands either side of your head.

The position is intimate, his eyes staying glued to yours even as he slips into a rhythm. His face is softer than you usually see it as he looks down at you; his sculpted lips tilted at the corners in a way that makes your breath feel like it doesn’t fit properly in your lungs.

You adore him so much.

Everything about him makes you feel like you are free-falling through a summer sky. You are, you’re sure, not supposed to be so deliriously happy with anybody, when you’re in a career such as your own. You should not be allowed to love him so freely and deeply – but the world has said you are. The world has dropped Risotto Nero into your lap in all of his occasionally awkward, stoic, handsome glory.

His hips flex in and out. He slides easily, through the slick glide of your sex – stoking up hunger and need, the tight little ball of tension inside of you that signifies your release. You hear the sound of him fucking you, the slap of him bottoming out, and you lose yourself entirely in the sensation of Risotto filling you up.

The world seems to fade into nothing but the place where the two of you are joined; nothing else important, aside from Risotto inside of and above you, his breath unsteady in his chest. The heat that’s gathering low in your belly, as he chases your release along with his own--

After his earlier ministrations, it’s no wonder that yours creeps up on you faster. Your ball of tension is the first one to take too much pressure, to be unable to do anything but explode into pieces – and it does so in a great rush that has you wailing, your mouth opening, as your mind seems to blank out into nothingness at the same time as every feeling in the entire world seems to hit you all in one go.

You’re crying?

You’re sobbing.

Your shoulders are shaking, your lip wobbling, your throat so dry that you can barely gasp air as it feels as though every emotion that you have ever experienced seems to come around to visit you again, the feeling entirely overwhelming. You can’t think. You can’t breathe--

Risotto’s eyes are wide and full of concern, blood and ink gone to uneasiness that this is all his fault. Your eyes are blurry with tears, but you see him open his mouth to speak nonetheless.

“Hey, hey--” his voice is quiet, through the haze of your tears, his hips stilling inside of you. “Tesoro, amore, cara mia--”

The pet names just make your bubbling sob get worse; your breath short. You don’t know what it is! You’re not upset, you’re not angry, you’re not even so happy that you can’t help yourself.

You’re just feeling so, so, so much.

“Risotto,” you breathe out, hiccuping, and your legs are gently dropped from your chest. “Risotto, I’m--”

“Please tell me if something’s wrong,” he murmurs, low and dark. “I’ll stop, I’ll do anything--”

“N-no,” you shake your head, aware that he is still buried inside of you – that your tears are stopping him reaching his full completion. “I-it’s not that—”

He pulls out, carefully, and you miss the feel of him inside of you like a physical ache, even though he is still on top of you. He reaches down and kisses your cheeks, chasing the tears away. A half-laugh bubbles up through the heaving of your chest and the tears clogging up your throat.

“Please tell me,” he repeats, again, all concern. His hands are still entangled with yours, as he leans down and puts his face very close to yours. If you stretched forward, just a little, you could rub your noses together, and the thought makes you smile despite yourself and despite the tear-tracks still drying on your face. “Amore, I promise I won’t be angry at you--”

“It’s just-- s-so much--” You say, eventually – lost for words, because how does one explain quite why they started crying with no real reason to? It had simply felt like everything had washed over you in one go, and your heart had not been able to handle it. Something about your orgasm had pushed forth all of your feelings, whether good or bad, and they had scrambled inside of your chest until all you could do was let tears roll down your face.

“I’m here,” he says, soft and slow. He lets go of your hands. Large arms wrap around you, pulling you up so you’re pressed against the broad expanse of your chest. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He’s so warm. Your cheek rests against him; hard muscle and scar tissue. You can hear the beating of his heart, and in the end it’s that – steady, constant, true – that makes the tears finally stop leaking down your face. Your breath calms.

A big hand comes up to stroke through your hair, reassuring.

“I’m always here for you,” he says. “Forever. Through anything.”

“I love you,” you say, all in a rush. You two avoid it; it’s hard to deal with constants when you’re in a business like Passione. ‘I love you’ is not in the vernacular of an assassin – but neither is ‘forever’, and Risotto had said it to you as casually as breathing--

“I love you too,” Risotto says. His voice does not quaver. He is certain and sure; as strong as the arms around you, the chest you’re pressed to, as strong as his convictions always are. He means it.

And you are so, so very glad that he does.

#writing #risotto x reader #risotto nero x reader #jjba #not sfw #afab reader #neutral pronouns #risotto nero #Anonymous

[shoichee]

okok hc or fic: reader was teiko’s “head” manager(?) and her talent was being a medic (if someone gets injured they’re back on the court in under a minute type thing) and training plans. suddenly momoi’s talent blooms, she starts working w/ everyone in the team (+ reader’s crush akashi) and people think she’s a better manager than reader. because of this, she overworks + collapses in front of her best friends kuroko + kise (don’t let akashi know yet i have plans for that 👀)

HELLO? YES OFFICER? I JUST FOUND A BANGER REQUEST RIGHT HERE? YOUR BRAIN IS SO BIG AND SEXY IVE BEEN DYING TO WRITE THIS🏃🏻‍♀️💨 part 2 here and part 3 here AND update: part 4 here

Akashi x Reader

[Teiko!manager Headcanons]

you had a knack of being a natural chiropractor in loosening up tense muscles instantly (for more fluid play) or easily putting in back dislocated joints

basically you have crackhands

in your free time as a hobby and a job as the “head manager” (that Akashi announced to the team himself), you’d often bury yourself in anatomy studies and gym plans on the internet and databases to review over Akashi’s team training routines to see if they were effective and safe; oftentimes, you’d return back with improved plans, and as time went on, Akashi entrusted you with creating the plans yourself completely

you took on the job so eagerly to impress the Teiko captain, if you were being honest to yourself

your enthusiasm even inspires Momoi, Teiko’s other manager, to work harder

no one in Teiko knows physiology better than you, and as expected, it was also your best subject along with health

Kise often looks at you in horror and respect at how you don’t cringe/flinch at the loud cracks resonating across the room or court when players come to you for instant relief (the origin story of how he came to call you (y/n)-cchi was the very fact that you manage to put back his dislocated shoulder in 3 seconds flat one game)

when Kuroko first joined the 1st-string, he was a walking magnet for injuries, and you ended up being there for him every single time… nosebleeds? check. sprained ankle? check. nausea from over exhaustion? check.

both you and Kuroko relish in the fact that everyone in the team can never understand how the both of you do some incredible things with your hands

both of you being quite dexterous, you both often teach each other your specialties for fun; it’s almost shocking to see Kuroko effortlessly loosening up a stress knot and you pulling off a well-done palm pass

you admit, you do juggle a lot of responsibilities… from being a makeshift nurse, to a chiropractor, to a budget gym coach, and even to being moral support

Momoi often reminds you to take breaks being the caring person that she is

you often showed her the ropes and tricks of being a manager, on top of your duties, and you find it really endearing that she’s so earnest in learning from you

even if you enjoyed doing what you do, part of the massive workload is to try to get into Akashi’s good graces

talking to him about basketball duties is easier to achieve than talking to him outside of the extracurricular

you might be a tad bit insecure about it; after all, what middle schooler is already so accomplished in academics, sports, and everything you could think of? wasn’t he also studying to take over his father’s company??

to you, who only starred as Teiko’s humble manager, it felt hard trying to establish common ground for conversation outside of basketball

so you stuck to working hard at your position, hoping that your work ethic would get his attention one day; you were a firm believer of actions over words, so you hoped your actions would come off as genuine

picture you and Momoi running across campus with stacks of papers for the team… it makes most of the teammates’ hearts melt at the sight

your work certainly got you praises from other teammates, but out of all players, Kise was the one who figured out your motive

you felt absolutely morbid; to think that Kise, of all people, would figure you out like the back of his hand

Kise being sweet as he is, offers to help you get with the captain but you merely prompted to threaten to break his arm if he spilled your crush to anyone else

“(y/n)-cchi… I’ve been thinking.”

“Yes, Kise?”

“It’s really cool that you’re working so tirelessly for the team, but I can’t help but wonder if there’s a reason why you work so hard.”

“O-Of course I do! I want to see you guys all succeed!”

“Then I’m curious as to why you always look at Akashicchi—o-ow, ow, ow!! (y/n)-cchi, I’m sorry! So can you please let go of my—ow!”

“H-How did you know?!”

“I-It was as obvious as day, (y/n)-cchi! I’m pretty sure even Kurokocchi found out about this before I did!”

“N-No way!!”

“Tell you what, I’m super duper knowledgeable in this stuff! You can count on me for this sort of advice—OW!”

spoiler alert: Kise was right in that Kuroko definitely noticed your attraction to Akashi before anyone else… he just never brought it up to you

one day, Kuroko comes up to you to whisper:

“(y/n)-san, have you realized that Akashi-kun has been observing you recently during practice?”

“W-Wait! Is he looking over here right now?”

“Not that I think. He’s occupied with the coach right now.”

“D-Do you think this is a good sign?”

Kuroko gives you a small smile before he replies, “I would like to think so. Keep working hard, (y/n)-san.”

and you do, you’re constantly on top of your game for the next season until Momoi suddenly gets more recognition for her “precognitive defense” skills

her newfound talent was extraordinary and never-before-seen, and her ability became more critical to Teiko’s victories than your own skills

you were happy and proud for her, because after all, her achievements were extremely deserving to be praised

it’s only when some 1st-string players started making offhand comments about how you weren’t really needed in the 1st-string and was more suited to the lower strings that placed seeds of doubt into you

these people would often compare you to Momoi in how she improved much more despite you being in the team for longer

there’s also talk about how your skills are more useful for 2nd-string and 3rd-string players because Momoi’s ability is already sufficient enough for Teiko’s starters

after all, how would a player even be injured if they can predict their opponents’ moves to avoid such incidents?

there’s also the fact that Akashi has been calling Momoi more frequently to research on upcoming teams for analytical data because her talent has become very useful to ensuring victory

the same peers and adults who gave you praise were the same people who began to ignore you or dismiss you; that being said, the collective change in attitude is definitely subtle enough that it would fly under most people’s radars

Kuroko was the first to notice and defend you against a small group of players who were bold enough to badmouth you in the gym

Kise would find out a little later about the somewhat unpleasant gossip about you and would pull the “no you” reverse card, returning back with MEANER underhanded comments that would send these shit talkers CRYING HOME (manga Kise strikes here unexpectedly eh?)

Murasakibara is someone who would be slightly uncomfortable with the gossip about you, especially since you’ve always been so helpful and kind to the team and himself; he’d either leave the room himself or easily scare them away with his looming height and presence without saying a single word when he enters the room “minding his own business”

Midorima is a bystander judging from how he’s reacted to the Teiko dynamic changes in the actual show // he, of course, wouldn’t like the nasty talk about you but would actually mind his own business, choosing to focus on himself and what he has to do to contribute to his team; he assumes that you would work hard the same way he is and let your contributions do the talking

now Akashi surprisingly wouldn’t hear much of the gossip, since his presence alone SHUTS them up and commit to their practices like normal; after all, it’s very clear that Akashi doesn’t tolerate this type of behavior in the team (example: Haizaki), and it’s more apparent that he wouldn’t hesitate to drop kick them out especially since he has a soft spot for you (which Kise never fails to bring this up to you, but you think he’s reaching too much into it) // TLDR; the teammates mostly have the common sense to not utter anything bad about you… maybe one kid would slip out and get punished for “bad sportsmanship,” but Akashi merely assumes that it’s just one bad apple and not necessarily… the many others as well

Aomine???? bro he ain’t even at practice wdym (HELPPP LMAOO) // jokes aside, if he catches wind of players shit-talking outside of the gym… say at the convenience store or when he’s walking home or something, well… they wouldn’t have a good time…

Momoi simply chastises the gossipers when they try to talk shit on you to make Momoi herself look good, and it leaves? such? a? horrible? taste? like, she wants to believe that they’re just really poor jokes and not what they really believe in, and the teammates merely reassure her that they’re just bad jokes and that they “wouldn’t do it again;” poor Momoi wholeheartedly believes them

the weird talks about Momoi being “the better manager” just signalled to you that you haven’t contributed enough to the team yet, and it motivated you to work even harder

oddly, you weren’t jealous of the fact that Momoi was receiving more positive attention than you

you were more afraid of the fact that you were going to get left behind, and this fear only tightened its hold on you when more teammates (who used to talk to you a lot) have changed their tunes when they speak with you now, compared to them talking to Momoi

and you felt that the Generation of Miracles would do the same too… including Akashi

it wasn’t an irrational fear for you because he’s already been calling Momoi a lot more frequently for help than you recently

so you even offered to mop the gym floors after practice, offered to stay later than usual to be the one to lock up the gym for anyone (cough, Kuroko) who wanted to practice whenever they wanted

at one point, you even tried to do what Momoi does: researching on upcoming teams and making your own predictions (that didn’t really work, and that cost you a few nights’ worth of sleep every single time)

not to mention that you still had regular school like any other student? you were the epitome of a mess

Kuroko was with you in the empty gym, you putting away the extra basketballs in the storage closet while he practiced his dribbling, until he heard a crash in there and a few basketballs rolled out the door

you collapsed right when you rolled in the basketball cart

POOR KUROKO HE DOESN'T KNOW WHAT TO DO // he just tries to give you a piggyback ride as he abandons his plans of practice and tries to jog to the nearest local clinic

that’s where he bumped into Kise, who was heading home after an evening shoot when he saw the two of you

chaos ensue as Kise freaks out and Kuroko had to calm him down himself after answering the never-ending questions

at least the doctor there gave relieving news that you only collapsed from over-exhaustion and that the bruises from the fall were very faint

Kise makes a joke to Kuroko about, “What’s with you and (y/n)-cchi falling to the floor and fainting? You guys can’t be that alike.”

when you shortly regain consciousness, you were met with a… very stern Kuroko and Kise, who were both ready to hear your explanation and to scold you to oblivion

to your surprise, they were understanding; Kuroko understands the feeling of not being enough and working hard to meet other people’s expectations, and Kise understands the struggle of juggling multiple things in his schedule (come on, student, athlete, and model?)

they still scolded your ears off:

“(y/n)-san, you idiot. Why didn’t you ask anyone to help out?”

“That’s…”

“(y/n)-cchi, do you think we’re undependable?!”

“Er, no, that’s…”

you were still dizzy from the fall and the lack of proper sleep (and maybe nutrition if we’re being honest), and you were just a ball of stress

you kind of begged your best friends not to tell a SOUL to anyone about this incident, especially to Akashi… you didn’t want to look even more incapable in his eyes than you already were

they do agree on one condition: for you to take AT LEAST a day or two off school to completely recover and rest up (you reluctantly agree; besides how were you going to explain the bruises that can’t be covered to your peers?)

HELP WHY ARE KISE AND KUROKO THE BEST LIARS TOGETHER ON CAMPUS LITERALLY NO ONE SUSPECTS A THING… except Akashi, the ever sharp captain, felt something was amiss

especially since some Teiko players emanated a feeling of relief at the news of you not being here that day, or the next

Akashi would play detective sleuth and find out what’s really going on sooner or later

End Note: gonna cut this off here b/c I KNOW this anon got a juicy part two i FEEL IT

#kuroko no basket #knb x reader #knb #knb fic #knb fics #knb headcanons #knb teiko #teiko middle school #kuroko tetsuya #kurokocchi #kise ryota #kise ryouta #akashi seijuro #akashi x reader #akashi seijuro x reader #knb headcanon #midorima shintarou #midorima shintaro #momoi satsuki #aomine daiki #murasakibara atsushi

[wildernessuntothemselves]

Prey for You | Part 6

Genre: Smut, angst.

Word Count: 5.6k

Summary: As Chan gets closer to his heat and you get closer to Felix, things are bound to come to a head.

Warnings: super unhealthy relationship, dom!chan, sub!reader, spanking, exhibitionism, breeding kink, violence, big dick chan, fingering, enemies to lovers, wolf!hybrid chan, fox!hybrid reader

(If you know the owner of this gif pls let me know so I can credit them)

You barely spend any time in the house anymore, only going back to sleep. Chan can’t seem to grasp the fact that it’s really over. He keeps trying to talk his way back into your life like last time, but you don’t give him the chance. You’re afraid if you listen to him, he’ll trick you again.

You end up spending more and more time with Felix, something that angers Chan greatly. He even tries to tell Felix to stay away from you, as the cat begrudgingly admitted to you one day, but he refused. And you’re ever so grateful for that. You don’t really have any friends and if you did, you’re such none of them could hold a candle to Felix.

He was such a sweetheart in a way that was almost too good to believe. Maybe it’s because he hasn’t been through the same sort of stuff you have, and cat hybrids in general are more favored and accepted than fox hybrids. Or maybe it’s because he found a group of friends that accepted him for who he was and never doubted him. But he seemed to have so much faith and trust in the world that you could never come close to. Still, just being in his positive presence rubbed off on you a little and gave you a smidge of happiness by proxy.

It was much needed, as the closer Chan got to his heat, the more explosive his temper became. Unfortunately for you, the mere fact that you were spending time with Felix fueled his anger, and he would fly into rage every time you’d come back home smelling like the cat. So any sense of cheerfulness you may have gotten from Felix was quickly smashed to the ground the moment you walked through the door.

It also wasn’t helping that he hasn’t hooked up with anyone ever since your last time together, and not satisfying what his body was literally demanding from him just made things ten times worse. But he persisted, trying till the end to convince you to spend his heat with him. You refused, of course.

Until finally, he informs you that you will have to leave the house for a few days as he will be bringing someone over to spend his heat with him. He wanted to rent a hotel room for you but you told him you already had a place to stay. He asks where you’ll stay, the grimace already on his face telling you that he knew the answer; you’ll be with Felix.

You pack your bag with the things you’ll be needing for the next few days under Chan’s watchful eyes. He stays silent until it’s time for you to leave. That’s when he takes your hand in his, proclaiming earnestly, “I really didn’t want to do this. I don’t want anyone else but you.”

“It doesn’t matter now.” You mumble, trying to move away but he grips your hand tighter, looking down at it intensely. "Please don't stay with Felix. I'll get you a five star hotel suite."

You wrench away from him. "Because I'll ruin him?"

"No." He shakes his head vehemently. "Just please. For me?"

You snort. "I don't owe you shit, Chan."

_______________________

You can barely sit still. Just knowing that Chan was with another woman right now made you sick to your stomach, and once again, you find your traitorous heart wishing you had given in to him. This just hurts too much. 

Felix is concerned about you, and he does all he can think of to take your mind off of it. He talks to you. He bakes you cookies. He cuddles with you. He tries to distract you in any way, but nothing works. 

Finally, he brings out the alcohol, knowing that that’s what helped you last time. You throw yourself into it, downing glass after glass to snuff out your jealousy and pain, but all that accomplishes is getting you more disinhibited and loud. 

“I can’t take it, Felix. He’s with another woman right now when he should be with me.”

“No. You deserve so much better.” Felix insists, trying to contain you in his embrace but you’re fidgeting too much. “Chan didn’t treat you right.”

“But he can, right? I mean he loves you so much. Maybe if we just try--” You maniacally explain but Felix’s angelic face twists into a scowl. “Do you even know the kind of stuff he used to say about you? That was the first time that I’ve ever looked down on him--when he was being so unfair to you.” 

You gulp, heart wrenching at the thought of the kind of things he must’ve said to his friends that would anger Felix so much. “But...what can I do, Lixie? It hurts so bad.”

Felix cups your face, so soft and delicate, looking into your eyes adoringly. “Let me take your mind off it.” He whispers. 

“What?” The word barely leaves your lips before his own lips are on you, kissing you tenderly. 

 You freeze in shock as Felix’s lips move over yours, trying to get you to reciprocate, but you pull away. "Kitty… don't."

He doesn’t let you go. “Stop thinking about him, please. Focus on me.” He coaxes, pressing his lips to yours in light pecks, his gaze pulling you in. 

You give into the soft feeling of his lips on yours. So far nothing has worked to ease your mind. Maybe this will. It feels nice kissing him, he’s soft and malleable, working with you according to what you want, letting you lead the kiss when you’re ready. 

You get closer to each other by the second, and when you pull him onto your lap, his crotch rubs against your thigh, and he moans out. 

“Are you hard already, kitty?” You tug on his hair, pulling his head away and restricting his answering nod.

You slide your hands down his body and pull his pants down over his dick, freeing it. “What a cute little dick, Lixie.” You coo, seeing his small member red and twitching against his abdomen. 

He blushes, burying his face in your neck and moaning out as you wrap your hand around his dick. “Fits just right in my hand.” You jerk him, the boy easily whining.

“Does it feel good, kitty?” 

“Y-yeah.” He kisses your neck wetly, trailing down towards your chest and mouthing at your breast through your top. “So good. Been wanting this for so long.” 

“You did? And here I thought you’re an innocent kitty.” 

“I am. I’m a good kitty.” He moans, trying to kiss you again but you keep his head away.

“Do good kitties lust after their friend’s girl?” 

His face morphs with annoyance, surprising you. “Shut up about him.” The way he spoke threw you off. It was unlike him and you were annoyed by the unexpected change. Narrowing your eyes at him, you hiss warningly, “Felix...” 

“Chan is literally balls deep in another girl right now. Fuck him.” He huffs insolently, his hands going up to grope your chest. 

You slap him, the wetness of his precum sticking to his cheek. “Shut up.”

“Why do you still care about him after all he's done to you?” He asks angrily. 

“Because I love him!” You find yourself answering easily. You do love him, despite everything he put you through. 

“He doesn’t deserve your love. He’s a fucking asshole.”

“He’s your best friend. He thinks of you like a brother!” You know you shouldn't defend him but you also know that Chan would be absolutely devastated if he found out that's what Felix thinks of him. It was never your intention to drive a wedge between them.

Felix scoffs, getting off you and adjusting his clothes irritably. “Yeah and I have to forever follow his every word or I’ll be an ungrateful bastard, right? I thought you out of everyone else would understand!”

“Understand what?” You exclaim. 

“When Chan took me under his wing,” Felix begins, voice gruff with a bitterness you’re all too familiar with. “I was so blown away by how nice that is, that I basically worshipped him. And he liked that about me. I know he loves me but a big part of that is because I contribute to making him feel better about himself. Chan is so fucking obsessed with having people like and respect him. That’s the entire reason he’s so ashamed of you, because you don’t fit his perfect image.”

His words lash at you. You already knew very well that’s how Chan thinks but to hear it said out loud to you by Felix just makes it hurt more.

“So when I came in, all puppy eyed and full of praise, he was ecstatic to have me around--his own personal cheerleader. And I was happy to give that to him. Hell, the guys saved my life, right? But now I can’t get out of that role. I can’t disobey anything he says or go against his word or he’d take it as a betrayal because Chan is always fucking right. Chan always knows best.”

"Felix don't be stupid. I’m sure if you just talked to him, he’d understand.”

“Yeah, like he understood you?” 

You reel back, stung, and you quietly say, “You’re different. He loves you so much, Felix. He almost ripped my head off when he found out I had hung out with you. He was so worried about you.”

Felix laughs at that. “You got it all wrong. He wasn’t worried about me. He was jealous and afraid I’ll steal you from him.” 

“That doesn’t make any sense.” You exclaim, the entire conversation thrusting your brain in a confused daze, but you quickly quiet down as you hear the sounds of keys. You look at Felix in alarm, silently asking who could it be, and from the way his face pales, you already know the answer.

Your heart drops in your stomach and your throat closes up as the door swings open to reveal a distressed Chan. He lets out a little sigh of relief when he sees you, and he starts making his way towards you. "Oh, baby. I couldn't do it. Please come home."

Suddenly, he stops dead in his tracks, face turning to stone and eyes deadly as he takes in the scent of your and Felix's arousal in the air. You see nothing but bloody murder in his eyes as they regard you, and you think he might actually kill you this time. After all, it’s the peak of his heat, he apparently hasn’t slept with the woman he was supposed to, and you had just messed around with his best friend. He must be angry, riled up, and frantic. He’s capable of doing anything.

But instead of attacking you, he pounds towards Felix, screaming at him, “You fucking bastard!” He swings at Felix, the force of his punch throwing the smaller boy to the ground. He doesn’t stop there though, aiming kicks at the crumpled form of the cat on the floor. 

“Chan, no!” You scream, rushing towards them but Chan yanks you away, gritting out, “Don’t touch him.” 

“Chan, please--” You beg, hoping to stop him from assaulting Felix again, but then the boy on the ground sits up, spitting the blood out of his mouth, and regarding Chan with a dark look you've never even thought the cute cat was capable of. “What is it, hyung? The bitch’s pussy wasn’t tight enough for you?” 

Chan throws you to the side and jumps on Felix again, pummeling his face with punches. The cat can barely do anything to protect himself, let alone retaliate--the power difference just too great between them. 

You rush towards them again, trying to stop the wolf’s attacks. “Stop it, Chan! You’re gonna kill him!” 

He stops, and Felix slumps on the ground, groaning and bloody. You try to get closer to check on him but Chan grabs you by the hair and pulls your face close to his. “Is this what you wanted, baby? Am I predator enough for you now?” 

“Puppy, please, don’t do this.” You beseech, pulling at his arm. “Let’s go home. Let me take care of you.” 

“You can take care of me here.” He replies coldly.

“W-what?” You yelp as he gets off Felix and pushes you over his body instead. “Since he decided to touch what wasn’t his, I’m gonna fuck you right in front of his eyes.”

You and Felix stare at each other in horror as Chan’s hands rip your pants off. You quickly notice the malice in his eyes, and you grab his arms, your hands clenching down on them with all your might and your eyes silently begging him to stay down. He’d have no chance against Chan if he tried, and you really don’t think he can take any more punches. 

“Please.” You mouth, hoping the concern in your eyes would get through to him. He grits his teeth but stays down, and you let out a small sigh of relief that turns into a shocked squeak as you feel Chan’s hand coming down on your ass. 

“I am the one in heat and I couldn’t bear to sleep with someone else. But you were just gonna fuck my best friend that easily?” He growls, giving your ass another smack that makes you jolt. He doesn’t hold back, his fingers spread wide to strike as much of your cheek as he can. 

“No!” You shake your head forcefully, making up for your uncertainty. The truth is you aren’t sure if you would’ve gone through with it or not, and that made you feel ashamed of yourself. Yes, Chan had hurt you but you wouldn’t have gone so low as to fuck the guy he thought of as his brother, right?  “I wasn’t.” 

"But you let him touch you." He snarls, giving you another hard slap before soothing the skin again. "Tell me, did you let him touch you here?" He pulls your panties to the side and rubs his fingers lightly over your pussy.

"No!" You shake your head, feeling the heat pooling in your stomach and you find yourself pushing your ass back into his fingers. But instead of touching you, he smacks your ass once more. 

Soothing his hand over the punished skin, he drawls, "It doesn’t matter. When I'm done with you, no one will have any doubt who you belong to." Then he spanks you again. And again. And again. 

You’re surprised by how you don’t have any desire to stop his actions. On the contrary, it felt good to finally be claimed by him. You longed for him to love you openly and willingly, and with the effect of the heat, that is exactly what he was doing. You could smell how aroused he is, and how much he wanted to fuck you. And you wanted him to. Messing around with Felix only made you crave Chan more, and like a horny bitch you couldn’t wait for him to give it to you, even in front of Felix--especially in front of Felix. You wanted to prove to him as much as to yourself that you could be Chan’s. 

“Is this what you wished to have, Lixie?" He asks the boy under you. "She has such a pretty pussy, doesn’t she? So tight…” He nudges a finger in, curling it. “But it's all mine." 

The boy under you glares up at him and you dig your fingers into his biceps, once again begging him not to fight back. 

"Puppy, please. Let’s just go home" You coax, trying to get the two boys away from each other.

“No. He’s gonna sit there and watch me breed your little pussy.” Chan says, pulling his finger out then pushing it in again, his other hand continuing to spank you. 

You think you hear a low growl coming from Felix but it’s hard concentrated over the squelching sounds of Chan’s fingers pumping in and out of your drenched pussy at a rapid pace. Delighting in the way you are rocking yourself against his hand and clenching around his finger, Chan praises you. “Good girl. You know who you belong to, don’t you?” 

“Chan--”

His finger curls inside of you and his hand falls on your ass harshly. “Don’t you, baby?” 

You know he’s not to be provoked right now. “Yes. I belong to you.” 

“That’s my good little fox.” He grunts, pushing another finger inside you. “Would he be able to make you lose it like this just from his fingers? Have you fucking back on his fingers like a bitch in heat?” 

“No, puppy. Only you can.”  You answer while looking Felix in the eye, and you’re turned on, you could feel your arousal leaking down your leg. 

“You like this, don’t you, little slut? Is this what you were waiting for?” 

“No… I-I” You stutter, feeling yourself getting close despite your denial. Chan can tell and he speeds up even more, causing the palm of the hand he is fingering you with to keep smacking against your pussy. As your walls start spasming around his fingers, he takes them out, leaving you clenching around nothing. But he doesn’t stop touching you, his fingers rubbing over your lips relentlessly, forcing you into a painful high and never letting you down. You shake in his grip, squealing and begging him to stop. “Chan---I can’t, please!”

You try to pull away but he snakes an arms around your waist and keeps your ass in the air, his fingers forcing you into another orgasm. Your hips jerk in his hold, trying to break away, and you beg. “It h-hurts, Chan...ahhhh---please, stop! Please!” 

Finally he stops, and your body goes limp, almost falling onto Felix if it weren’t from the arm Chan has around you. As you sit there, panting and held up by Chan, he brings his other hand to your face and pushes the fingers that were just inside you into your mouth. You can barely breathe around the intrusion, so short of breath already, but you do your best to suck on them like you know he wants. 

“Good girl.” He pushes your shirt over your breasts and palms one of them greedily.  "Want me to fuck your pussy, my pretty fox?" He purrs, pulling his fingers out of your mouth, and--wet with your saliva-- he rubs them over your other breast. Despite the agonizing orgams you just had, you find yourself arching into his touch and rubbing your thighs together.

“Yes, puppy. Need you to fuck me.” 

You let out a shaky breath as he pulls your panties to your knees. You hear the sound of pants unzipping before you feel the head of his cock pressing against your entrance and slowly nudging in. You briefly wonder how you were ever able to take him. Sensing your worry, he pushes in more of his dick. “No, no backing down now. You’re going to be a good fox and take my cock, won’t you, baby?” 

“Yes, Channie.” You grit. It’s been so long since you’ve taken him, and you know this is gonna hurt despite how drenched you were. Still, you were excited, having learnt to appreciate the painful stretch now. Maybe he was right all along--he’d ruined you for all your pretty boys, trained you to crave his dick only.

He holds you still to prevent you from wiggling away as he continues to inch his dick inside you. “Take it. You wanted me to claim you and now you’re going to be good and take it.” He leans over and mouths at your neck. Instead of kisses, he nibs at your skin, the sharp pain of his canines plucking at the skin taking your attention away from the dull pain of his dick breaching your pussy. 

Once he’s all the way in, he laps his tongue at your neck soothingly. “There. Good girl.” 

You wince as he pulls his hips back slowly then thrusts back in all at once, a yelp coming out of you as his dick hits deep inside you. He chuckles, his hips picking up speed. “I have so much cum for you, you’ll be dripping my seed for days.” 

You can do nothing but whimper, holding tightly onto Felix as Chan’s hips slap against your ass and his dick pistons in and out of you. It feels like it’s the first time fucking him for how much your pussy suffers. But for as much pain it gives you, it also gives pleasure, and you feel euphoric. 

"I'll make sure no one touches you ever again. Gonna breed you everyday and make you walk around with my cum dripping from your pussy so everyone knows who you belong to." He growls, and you know he’s staring down at Felix from the way the other boy was glaring at him. “Do you want that, baby?” 

You open your mouth to reply but all that cums out is an incomprehensible garble so you give up, mouth left hanging open. 

"Look at that, Felix. I’ve fucked her dumb." He gloats, pushing your shirt up and fondling your tits. “And you thought your little dick could ever please her. She wouldn’t have even felt it after getting fucked open by me. Isn’t that right, baby girl?” 

Chan’s voice is gruff as his hips drive into you even harder, and you know he’s close. You nod, pleading. “Yes---p-please puppy---ahh cum.” 

“You want me to cum inside you? Want me to make you mine?” He growls in your ear, and you whimper, your legs buckling under you. He holds your hips up, his dick drilling into you. “Ok, baby girl. There you go. Take it all.” His dick spasms inside of you, his hot cum quickly filling up your tight pussy.

You feel so satisfied filled up like this. It feels right, and you wish you could stay in this moment forever--his arms wrapped securely around you and his face nuzzling softly into your neck as he whispers soft praises into your ear. 

But of course it can’t, especially not with the hostile cat lying under you. 

Chan is not done taunting Felix though. Pulling out of you, he inserts two fingers into your pussy and curls them as he pulls out, making the cum inside you gush out. Then he leans over you and brushes his cum stained fingers over Felix’s bloody cheek. The cat tenses up, hissing threateningly, but you quickly intervene, croaking out, “Channie…Please, let’s go.”

Chan huffs, pulling your panties back on and zipping up his own pants before he scoops you up in his arms. He sits you down on the couch and helps you put your pants back on. As he starts getting dressed too. Felix sits up, looking worse for wear but hopefully not seriously injured. You’re worried that Felix would be stupid enough to attack him but to your relief, he stays seated where he was, the both of them just glaring at each other. 

Before it can escalate beyond the dirty looks, you put a hand to Chan’s back, pulling his attention towards you. “I want to go now.” You coax, “Please.” 

Chan sighs and nods, carrying you in his arms and walking out of the apartment. 

__

When you get back to his house, Chan sets you down on your bed. 

Cupping your cheeks, he asks softly, “Do you want to take a shower?” 

You shake your head, too tired to even stand up at this point. Nodding, he pulls your soiled clothes off your body, doing his best to wipe you off before he grabs one of his hoodies and pulls it over your head. 

When he’s done, he just stands there awkwardly like he wants to say something but is unsure how to start. 

You sigh, defeated. “Just say what you want to say, Chan.”

His gaze is set on you, suddenly resolute, and he states firmly. "I want you to give me a chance." 

You scoff in disbelief. "I've given you plenty of chances."

"No.” He insists, jaw set and tone unrelenting. “You never really did. You always had your mind made up about me from the beginning. I want a real chance this time." 

“You think you deserve it after all you’ve done? You've never even apologized for any of the shit you put me through, Chan!"

“I’m sorry." He apologizes at once, with no hesitation, and you’re taken aback. “Why suddenly? Did I have to ask you for it?”

"No. I was being an idiot and a coward. I cared more about my reputation than I did about you and that was wrong.” His jaw clenches and he looks at you intensely. “But I wasn’t the only one at fault. You were no angel either.”

You open your mouth to protest but he stops you. “Just shut up and listen for once.” He shouts, frustrated, and begins pacing around the room, one hand messing up his hair while the other gestures wildly as he explains. 

“I was scared to tell people I was with you when I wasn’t even sure you were going to stay. Any time I tried to get close to you, you would always reject me. You made me feel so worthless and unwanted. You never thought of me as a real predator, and you made sure to throw that in my face every chance you got. Tell me how could I trust you when you looked at me like I didn’t even deserve to be a predator? That my mere existence was a shame? Have you ever apologized to me for that?” He challenges, stopping his pacing and waiting for your answer, but you couldn’t give him one. You just stare down at your hands to avoid his condemning gaze. No, you never apologized. 

“I didn’t think so.” He scoffs sourly,  “You know what the worst thing is? I believed you. I’ve always doubted myself and wondered if I’m weak and inept, wondered if I could ever be enough. And there you were, so contemptuously telling me that I am not."

"So it's my own fault you treated me like I was something to be ashamed of?" You ask incredulously. “That you didn’t even stand up for me in front of your friends?”

"No! I just want you to see it from my perspective for once." He yells, frustrated at how you seemed to twist his words. “That night at the studio, I thought we were getting somewhere. I thought that for the first time you were starting to trust me and respect me. That you could maybe see me as something more than the impotent predator you always thought I was. But as soon as I attempted to confess to you, you pulled back like I disgusted you. You undid everything I was trying to build with that one look.”

“So yeah, I was fucking bitter about it, and when my friends showed up and realized you were there, they fucking laid it on me, asking me what the fuck I was doing and reminding me how hard I had been on Jisung because of you before, and I just felt fucking stupid and humiliated by them--by you!”

“Still, I wanted to apologize after I’d calmed down but by then you wouldn’t even listen to me. You’re so fucking stubborn you know?” He smiles wetly. 

He waits for you to say something but you just remain frozen, trying to make sense of everything that he said. You had always viewed Chan as the dangerous party here, the one who was most capable of hurt, that you never stopped to ask if you were hurting him. You guess, deep down, you never really believed he cared for you and so you didn’t consider the idea that your rejection would affect him. 

Coming close again, he sits on the bed next to you and props your chin up to make you look at him. “But I never lied to you, my pretty fox. You are special to me and I love you.” You can see the sincerity in his eyes, but something still nags at you. 

“What about what you said to me about Felix? How you actually care about him?” You chew on your lip, worried about his answer. 

Letting you go, he rubs a hand over his face and lets out a tired laugh. “I was fucking jealous for god’s sake--something you would've been able to tell easily if you had paid any attention to how I was feeling.”

You wrap your arms around yourself, feeling defensive. “But why would you assume I would go after Felix?” 

“Because you and him make way more sense than you and I. He’s much more your type than I ever was. He’s kind and compassionate and sweet. I was terrified that you’d fall right into his arms, and I’d never be able to compete. I would lose both my lover and my best friend.” 

“Okay.” You say slowly, trying to make sense of all this new information and relating them to your own emotions. “But all of that still doesn’t excuse the fact that you completely fucked with my already tennous sense of self worth, Chan. You made me feel that for once, someone might actually love me and want me despite what I am, only for you to then immediately pull the rug out from under my feet and try to distance yourself from me.” 

“I know, and I was wrong and I wish I could take it all back.” He laments sadly, “But I was hurt too. You never made it easy” 

“You’re right. I’m sorry too.” You finally apologize, and you mean it. You never even suspected the extent to which your actions and words have affected him. You thought you were the only one who truly cared and you did everything in your power to hide that from him so he wouldn’t hurt you with it. 

“But,” You take a deep breath, almost wishing you could stop here and just forgive him and take him back. But you know you can’t. You’d just come back here again. “I don’t if I can trust you.”

"Don't then.” He answers simply and you’re lost. “I'm not sure I trust you either.”

You frown, even more confused, and he continues. “Neither of us has really earned the other’s trust. But we can try." He pauses, brushing your hair out of your face and looking you deep in the eyes. "Do you love me still?"

"Yes." There is no use denying it, you do. 

"Then let's earn each other’s trust. I can't promise that I'll never hurt you again but I can promise that I'll do everything in my power not to. I'll never hide you again. I'll do all I can to fix the mistakes that I've made and try to be a boyfriend you'd be proud of. But I need your help. You need to try too."

"I'm scared." You say in a small voice, and he pulls you towards his body, resting his head against yours. "I am too. I'm fucking terrified. But I will never forgive myself if I don't give us another chance."

You take a long pause, the world seeming to hold its breath as you make up your mind. Chan certainly is. And just that, the fact that he looks to be hanging so much onto your decision as if his life depends on it, is what makes it easy for you to choose. He is giving you what you’ve been after all this time--he’s showing you that he wants you and that he cares. And that’s all you needed from him. 

“Okay. Let’s do it.” 

The smile that lights up his face is gorgeous, and you’re sorry to dim it before it has the chance to fully bloom. “But you have to promise me one thing first.” 

“Anything.” He answers confidently as if there wasn’t anything in the world he couldn’t do for you.

“You have to promise me that you’ll forgive Felix.” 

He clearly didn’t see that one coming from the way he pulls back and his smile disappears like it was never there. “I can’t do that. He's the only one I have told what you were to me. He’s the only one that knew. And he tried to take you away from me!” 

“He’s just misguided.” You try to explain. “He’s young and restless and he doesn’t know who he is because he was never allowed to explore himself or the world. You’ve always dictated to him what to do and how to feel.”

“So you’re on his side?” Chan asks incredulously, “He betrayed me!”

“I did too but you forgive me. He deserves forgiveness too. The only reason he got so upset about the way you were treating me is because he saw himself in me. He’s scared that you’d abandon him if he does anything you don’t approve of and so he freaked out and crossed the line.” 

You swing your legs over the edge of the bed and stand up, wobbling on your feet and Chan rushes to steady you. You take the chance to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him close, whispering gently to him, “He just needs some space, that’s all. And trust. Show him that you have a little faith in him, and he’ll come around. I know he will.” 

You kiss the corner of Chan’s mouth and he turns his head slightly so he can kiss you fully. You kiss him back passionately, helping him stay grounded as he takes his time to come to a decision. 

Finally, he pulls away, eyes still closed. “Okay.”

You smile happily, eyes getting a little misty at the extent of emotions filling up your chest. And for the first time in a while, they’re mostly good. 

“I love you.” 

“I love you too.”

___________________________

A/N: I will literally die if you don’t tell me what you think of the ending

#stray kids smut #bangchan smut #bangchan angst #bang chan smut #bang chan angst #stray kids angst

[kyberphilosopher]

Lᴇx Tᴀʟɪᴏɴɪꜱ

Word Count: 3285

Warnings: graphic descriptions of gore, manga spoilers following the 4th line of stars.

An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, a life for a life. 

"An eye for an eye" (Biblical Hebrew: עַ֚יִן תַּ֣חַת עַ֔יִן‎) or the law of retaliation (Latin: lex talionis) is the principle that a person who has injured another person is to be penalized to a similar degree by the injured party.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Gone. Your eye, was gone.

There was no warning, no time given for you to say your farewell. You didn’t have the time to even register what was about to happen. You had seen him, heard the bells and then... 

Well, you must’ve known what the price for this was going to be to some degree. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have bothered, would you? So, there in lies the catch. All the feelings going through your brain right now are based on your own individual decision, and the only person responsible for the consequences of that decision is you. 

“Come on, you have to eat, Y/N,” Historia practically sobs. She holds a spoon with a glop of banana colored mush on it, hoping to slip it in between your lips so you can just accept some kind of sustenance. But you don’t, and you won’t. You haven’t since the incident. “Please.”

You don’t say anything to the girl. You don’t even meet her eyes. You only stare at your own lap, giving her a nice view of your long, soft, sad eyelashes. The gauze wrapped around half of your head is threaded between pieces of your hair messily, and your shoulders have the hunch of that of defeat. 

Historia closes her pink lips, and puts the spoon back in the wooden bowl. “You just eat whenever you’re ready, then,” she tells you softly, and she places it on the nightstand to your right. Although she is young and nurturing, she doesn’t dare push you. The petite girl closes the door behind her, wondering if it would’ve been better to shove the food down your throat. 

It wouldn’t have mattered. You probably would’ve just stuck your own fingers down your esophagus as well, and then the banana mush never would’ve even reached your stomach. 

It felt like you’d misplaced something very important. It feels like something is missing. Something you’d been tasked to protect since birth, and had formed a friendship with. And now it was gone, and you had failed both the friendship and yourself. Your left eye wasn’t something you could just grow back, either. Once it’s gone, it’s gone for good. And now it’s gone for good. 

Your head lifts up slowly, and you’re allowed to catch a glimpse of yourself in the wooden mirror across the room. It doesn’t take long for the loathing to boil inside of you like venom. 

The one good eye you have is rung with tired darkness. A maroon, chestnut brown shade of gray lingers right under your bottom lashes starkly. The same lashes are tiredly clumped together in a particularly unflattering way. The right half of your face feels ice cold, and the left magma hot. The bandages around your head have scrunched up pieces of your hair, and they rub against your cheeks tightly at any slight movement. It’s uncomfortable, to say the least. But the slightest thought of what these bandages cover makes you want to scream your throat bloody.

The moment you pull the gauze away is the moment you see the socket of your own eye, exposing it to infection and dirty air. You’ll see a hole, a stark reminder of the missing something that you’ll never be able to replace. You might as well have a hole in your ridiculous heart at this point. 

And it was for what?

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

The bells rang every time you thought of him. 

Sometimes they were loud, but usually they were soft. You hadn’t heard them since childhood, but you couldn’t place the exact context of them. You knew, at least, that they were made of bronze, but that didn’t help much at all. And now that had appeared in your head again, and they were fused to the man you’d taken a bullet for. 

Historia and Hange seemed to be the only two who would visit you regularly. You’d see other comrades of yours in the next room when the door was open, but you had a preference for keeping it closed. Besides those two, you knew Armin and that Mikasa girl had been in your room as well. Sasha Blouse once came to take the food you hadn’t eaten. There was a vague memory of Connie Springer in your room, but you had been too preoccupied with hiding your face to receive a complete vision. 

Nobody really saw you for days. You kept yourself buried in the scratchy blankets, ashamed of what you had done to yourself. You accepted no food. Questions began to arise of whether or not you were regularly bathing anymore. At least you were able to take yourself to the chamber pot when needed, but you refused to look at your reflection on any surface. Otherwise, you feared you’d hear the bells again. 

Through everyone that had at least come to check on you once, he never had. You saw no signs of him at all around the area. You couldn’t feel his presence in your room at any single moment. At was almost as if the man had become a ghost, and maybe he had. Maybe this was another missing piece you’d have to live with, and maybe it was also bound in permanence. 

You lost your eye, so that he could keep his life. And he hadn’t even thought to show up. 

Not that you wanted to see him. If he had thought to show up, you hadn’t a clue what you would’ve said. You couldn’t explain your own actions, and you couldn’t ask him to avenge your loss. As you’d come to terms with before, this was all your doing. This was the consequence of your choice. Whatever consequences are born from that original consequence- well... that was on you too. 

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*. 

“Y/N, when was the last time you ate?” Historia frowns, her shoulders sinking with sympathy. 

You stare at your lap still, with one good eye steady as it’ll ever be. 

“It doesn’t matter,” you answer after a moment, voice low. 

“What are you talking about?” the girl questions, the corners of her eyes pricking with tears. “Of course your health matters. You saved our lives out there.” 

And there they are. The bells. 

You’re a fool. You can’t do anything right, can you?

“I’m not hungry.”

“Please,” Historia practically wheezes. “For me. Just a bite.”

You still don’t move. You blink slowly, mesmerized by the dust particles you can see from the light of the setting sun, which streams through the glass of the windows behind you. 

In a flat, firm, low tone, you tell her simply. “No.”

She inhales sharply, as if she was keeping herself from tears. And you’re not doing it to make her feel like she’s not a human, or someone you distrust. It’s because with the loss of your eye comes a deep, dark hatred for yourself that you didn’t know human beings could even possess. To put it simply, you didn’t think you deserved to eat. 

Historia’s chair scoots against the floor. You see her movement out of the corner of your eye, and hear the old floorboards creak under what little weight she possesses. Then you feel even more hatred towards yourself for wasting her time and making her feel the same way that you had. 

Well, you’re certain you don’t deserve to eat now. 

There’s mumbling by the doorway. 

“She told me she wouldn’t... Just seems really out of it lately... I tried to... Okay.”

Historia’s pretty little golden head disappears from your room and around the corner, out of sight. Instead, there is another figure in the doorway, facing you. 

The bells come back. 

“I heard you wouldn’t eat,” the smooth voice calls to you. You can hear his footsteps against the wood. 

They’re getting loud. 

“Did you not hear me? I’m talking to you.”

You lift your tired head up. Your right eye, pupil big with dilation as if you were high off pain, drowns out all other color. Your face is pale, half sweaty. You’re sick, inside and out. 

Immediately, your mouth is forced open. Something hits the back of your throat roughly, and your teeth sink down from being stuffed. 

Levi shoves the piece of bread further into your face. It scuffs against all corners of your maw, dry crumbs falling down to your stomach. Your taste buds explode with an overwhelming dusty flavor after having nothing for days. It almost burns. But despite the wet scoffs you give off from gagging against the material, the man doesn’t back down or away. 

“Are you gonna eat it yourself? Or will I have to force this down your throat?” he questions- no- demands an answer from you. You’ve closed your eye from the contact, and it’s gone blurry from the abruptness of the situation. But you can picture your comrades face clear as day. 

His gray eyes will be narrow as usual. His expression will be set in stone. He will not hesitate or falter to do as he has said, and he won’t feel bad about it either. You know this. And you’re right, too. The man is steady as ever, and if anyone was ordered to guess what he was thinking, they wouldn’t have a clue on how to read him. 

No. You won’t eat. You can’t stop yourself from feeling sick at the very thought of rewarding yourself. Levi creases his eyebrows slightly, and his fingers press the piece of food farther down your esophagus. Now it’s hurting. 

“I guess I will then,” Levi speaks out. 

You don’t have a choice. Every time your gag reflex tries to push the bread away, Levi’s palm is there to keep it in place. It burns and hurts, and you wonder if bread like this has the ability to make your soft inner skin bleed. You concede.

Your teeth bite down fully, breaking off a fair portion of the roll. It makes your jaw sore from the weight of it, and Levi’s hand doesn’t move away. He watches your movements closely, making sure that you’re doing what you appear to be. He won’t take the chance. 

After chewing for what must be a lengthy forty-five seconds, you hold the mushed pieces of dough on the back of your tongue. You can’t do it. You can’t make yourself eat. 

“Swallow it,” Levi orders from above you, his voice cold and commanding. 

You concede again. 

The dough slips down in pieces, aided by saliva and awaited by your empty tummy. 

Levi finally pulls the remaining half of bread away from your lips, but doesn’t change his position of standing over you. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” he mutters as he places himself in Historia’s former seat.

Your good eye opens and looks over at him, still glossy from budding tears. You feel out of breath. Your nose has gone pink. God, he could’ve suffocated you right then and there. 

Levi’s face is still and calm as always. His frown is ever present, and his dark hair falls the same. The only thing out of place is the fact that he stands out of uniform, in a white button up, cravat, dark vest and dress jacket. On another day, you would’ve thought it looked nice on him. Today, you have to try not to vomit all over it. 

He reaches for a wooden bowl that Historia left on the nightstand earlier. It’s filled with that banana colored mush she keeps insisting you eat. When Levi takes it into his hands, his nose inhales a little whiff. 

“Well, no wonder you won’t eat this,” he says, staring down into it. “It smells like shit.” Then, he takes the spoon from inside, and raises it into the air. “Open wide.”

No. There’s no way in hell. 

The bells are loud as you turn your head the other way. You can’t bear the sight of him, or food. 

“If you won’t take it,” Levi frowns angrily, “I’ll have no problem forcing it into you again.”

Who fucking cares, Levi? Just please, stop looking at me. 

Your left hand reaches up to the bandages over what used to be your eye. You fit your palm over it in shame, as if that would keep him from noticing what had become of you. 

“It’s been a week since this happened, and you haven’t talked about it to anybody,” you hear Levi say. “Hange says you’re not taking your medicine, either.”

Shut up. Shut up. Please, the bells are so loud. 

Cold fingers against your own turn to warm ones. Levi’s digits pat your own off your face, and then around your ear to find where the bandage ends. 

Your opposite hand reaches up to catch his wrist softly, asking him to stop without saying a word. 

Levi pauses for a moment, watching you stare off into space with exhaustion. Then he shakes your hand away gently, and continues his movement. 

His nails scrape against the end of the rope. Then he peels the bandage back, and it begins falling away from your head in a circle. Loop by loop, a layer of gauze strays away from your face. The anticipation of seeing what’s underneath is brewing inside of the man slowly, while the depression of knowing what’s to come has made you quiet as a stone. 

Finally, the last layer lays against your skin. Once Levi’s fingers pull this away, you’ll be bare to him. He’ll be able to see what you lost, but never locate it. Just as you have. 

Levi continues. 

The gauze falls away at last, revealing what had been covered. 

His eyes widen, both of them. You can’t say the same. 

Where your left eye once was was now a hole. It had layers, and he could see the socket underneath all of them. But it’s ridged and dark, almost as if it were burned. Some parts of your eye are black, others deep purple. There are traces of smeared blood around the edges it all. And, quite frankly, it looks almost glossy with some type of ooze. 

“Does it look bad?” you whisper finally, still staring off into nothingness. 

Levi tenses up, staring into the void. In all honesty, it looks absolutely horrific. Even if it was properly cleaned and patched up, it would be disgusting. It must be one of the most gruesome things Levi has ever seen- and he’s seen plenty of gruesome things.

“When the bastard shot at you,” Levi begins with a calm voice, “did it hurt?”

Kenny Ackerman. The bastard.

You don’t say a single word for a full minute. “No,” you finally decide. “I didn’t feel a thing.”

Humanity’s strongest breathes out through his nose with stress, but it’s silent. “What possessed you to do this, then?”

You’re silent once more. You’d always been a little on the quieter side of things, for as long as Levi had known you. But this was different. This was sad, and still, and devoid of life. He considers just walking away with acceptance of knowing he won’t get anything out of you.

“I just thought,” your voice comes out hoarse, “it was either you or me.”

Dark pupils dilate, grey irises enlarge. “You took the shot for me.”

The eye on the right blinks slowly. “I didn’t want you to die.”

Levi goes completely still. His shoulders square and the muscles in his back tense. The inside of his mouth melts dry, and the only thing moving in the room are the specks of dust illuminated by the light.

“I see.”

He remembers it all so clearly. He saw the flash of Kenny’s gun, weighed his chances of living. A hand pushes his face up from his jaw and he’s shoved backwards. The nails of his assailant had cut into his skin, but his life had been spared in the process.

Instead of recounting this, Levi prompts, “What made you think that was a good idea?”

You don’t answer at all, which doesn’t surprise the stoic man. He’s not sure he would, either. But he wonders if it’s because you know the answer, or because you don’t.

“Why didn’t you come to visit me, Levi?”

A soft breeze races into the room. Strands of your hair glint and swirl softly. “I thought you would’ve been here sooner.”

The truth was that Levi just didn’t want to see you. But that was because he knew the answer to why. What possible explanation could the man have given you that justified your sacrifice? How would he have shown his appreciation, or annoyance, or simple thankfulness that you’d even survived?

Your long, slim fingers run against each other in short, little pats, almost like a child. “Is it because you hate me I wonder?” Then, your face looks up to the ceiling, exposing your throat to the air. “No. You can’t hear them, can you?”

“Hear what?” Levi knits his brows in question.

“You hear them so often at funerals,” you continue, ignoring Levi’s inquiry. “Or weddings. Or homecomings.”

Y/N is out of it, Levi decides. I’ll get nothing out of her.

“If I don’t bother asking, will you just eat?”

“...funerals...”

Levi picks up the bowl of shit scented banana mush, and runs the spoon through it. With a hefty pile in the dip, he lifts it up, and slips it in between your unaware lips. You don’t struggle, and you even chew and swallow. The corners of your mouth upturn softer than softly after Levi gives you two more bites. “Wouldn’t be so bad.”

Levi doesn’t have the heart to ask what you’re talking about. Though he suspects it might be the prospect of your own funeral, he says nothing. Your death isn’t something he’s keen on thinking about. Not with all the time he’s spent trusting in you, admiring in you. It’s painful to imagine a life without you present, or even beside him. But now you’ve forced the idea onto him because of your own selflessness. At this, Levi concludes that it should’ve been him who took the shot, not you.

“We can talk about what’s not so bad after you eat.”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*. 

Levi touches his palm to the bandage over his right eye. Gone. Gone for good.

Why do I have to think of her now? he asks himself, replaying the image of your ghastly missing piece over. Is this how she felt?

Like something’s missing? Questioning if the loss of something so valuable was worth it? You hadn’t questioned it for a second. If Levi had asked you if having your eye blown out for him was a fair price for his survival, you both knew what you would’ve answered in a heartbeat. Maybe he should’ve before you had died.

As the wagon bumps on the rickety dirt road, the soldier clenches the fingers he has left. His head drops back, and he looks up to the pale blue sky. Dark hair brushes against his nape, green cloak sticky with blood. Through the eye he can see out of, he makes out a cloud in the shape of you, and listens to the distant ringing of the bell.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*. 

I hope everyone who reads this is in bittersweet pain. Happy holiday season. 

Also if anyone has any ideas on how to write Levi better please let me know. I think I captured his character okay, but I want to do him justice. pullup hoe.

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi imagines #levi fluff #levi angst #levi ackerman fluff #levi ackerman angst #aot imagines #aot x reader #snk imagines #snk x reader #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin x reader #shingeki no kyojin fanfiction #aot levi x reader #snk levi x reader #captain levi x reader #x reader #levi fanfiction #levi ackerman fanfiction #fanfiction #angst #fluff

[yoonsshadow]

ETERNAL - v

➳ summary ; They have died so often that death has lost its meaning; hurt so regularly that pain has become inconsequential; lost so much that they hold each other to the light of the stars. They have nothing yet they have everything, as long as they have each other. And, after centuries, they now have her.

➳ pairing ; bts!ot7 x fem!reader

➳ genres ; The Old Guard au; fantasy, historical, action, romance, alternate universe

➳ themes ; angst, fluff, death

➳ warnings ; smoking, mature conversations

➳ word count ; 3k

➳ note ; Thank you for your patience!

masterlist

Fear is a fist that clutches your heart, reminding you of its presence each time it tightens its grip. It doesn’t hurt, necessarily, but you can feel the strength in its hold; the raging tendons wrapped around your tender organ that strain with each heartbeat. A singular emotion controlling your very pulse.

Cigarette smoke billows into the indigo hour of the night, and you find yourself unable to pry the fingers away.

The air on the balcony is cold, but it envelops you in a comforting embrace; it’s a soft coolness, as opposed to the harsh, biting climate of the desert that you’ve become accustomed to. Your skin prickles with goosebumps, but you don’t feel the need to scratch at yourself, to tear the skin from your flesh. It makes you feel alive, even if the definition of that word has changed for you.

Evidence of your newfound immortality, if that’s what you can call it, dangles between your fingers, ashes falling to the ground several storeys below with each gentle tap. It tastes terrible⎯⎯a bitter flavour of death in every pull⎯⎯but it serves its purpose for now. It keeps you grounded, gives you something to focus on other than the slowly growing anxiety that still holds strong in your chest.

Behind you, the balcony door slides open, startling the silent air with its soft drag.

“You’re up late,” Namjoon says. He speaks soft, low, as if hesitant to disturb you. “Or early, I guess. Didn’t take you for a smoker.”

You breathe out a puff of smoke, watching as it dissipates into the darkness. “I’m not.” He steps into your periphery, leaning on the metal railing beside you. “I just needed...something. Found them hidden away in the bookshelf.”

Namjoon scoffs. “Figures. We’re usually a non-smoking household, but sometimes the boys get sneaky. Pass me one?”

You hand him the box. Only two cigarettes left. He brings one to dangle between his lips and, without asking, you hand him a lighter. It takes him three tries, and then he’s sighing smoke into the air as well.

“Thought you were a non-smoking household.”

“We are. Stinks up the place, and it tastes disgusting. But. When in Rome.”

“You calling me Rome?”

He chuckles, but doesn’t answer. “Couldn’t sleep?”

You shake your head, despite knowing that he isn’t looking at you. “Too much on my mind.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don’t think I could if I tried.”

He blends in with the shadows, slightly, though the peaks of his cheekbones catch the dull light that glows through the mist of pollution. “I get that. Would you rather me talk?”

“Not really.”

“Do you want me to leave you alone?”

“Not really.”

So he stays. Until the embers begin to burn your fingertips; until you’re snuffing your cigarette on the metal rail. You don’t think you’ll smoke again. You suppose it doesn’t matter, though. There’s forever ahead of you to change your mind.

Sunlight is just beginning to illuminate the buildings around you when Namjoon speaks up again. He stubbed his own cigarette before it was even halfway done. 

“I’m sure you’re curious,” he says. “About us, about the situation, about everything. And we’ll tell you as much as we can, but...There are some things the boys won’t feel comfortable telling you about just yet. We’ve lived long lives. We’ve done good things and bad things; experienced things we’re proud of and things that haunt us. We may not die, but we’re still human. I hope that you don’t mind being patient with us.”

Your heart aches a little at the melancholy in his tone, as if you wouldn’t give the world for these seven men after knowing them just a day. It feels as if your soul has missed them for a lifetime.

“Namjoon.” He turns to face you, now, and a halo of soft light glows around his face. “I don’t know what you’ve all been through, and frankly, it’s none of my business. If you want to tell me something, I know that you’ll do it in your own time. I’ve got the rest of my life to get to know you all, okay? There’s no rush.”

His smile starts as a twitch, a quirked corner of his lips, but quickly grows wide. Relieved. 

“I’m glad it’s you,” he says. He offers no elaboration, no further words, but you think you know what he means. Because you’re glad it’s him, too. You’re glad it’s them.

With breakfast comes clarity. As you sit at the large dining table, bowls of rice, soup, and several plates of banchan steaming into the morning air, you find yourself feeling calmer than you have since your death. It’s as though the raging tides of emotions⎯⎯uncertainty, confusion, downright fear⎯⎯have finally quelled into a tranquil body of water. There is sure to be a ripple sooner or later, but for now, it is completely still.

Yoongi, the cook of this morning’s feast, takes the first bite, and the rest of you follow. There is so much that you want to say, so many questions that you want to speak into existence, but the bitter taste of apprehension bleeds through even the delicious taste of your meal. You feel like you might choke on it⎯⎯the taste and your words both⎯⎯but your throat closes before you can even swallow.

Ah. There is the awaited ripple.

Perhaps it is the hours of silent companionship, or simply his centuries of wisdom, but Namjoon seems to sense your internal struggle. “If there’s anything you want to ask us, Y/N, go ahead. We’ll answer to the best of our abilities.”

Your throat eases and your tastebuds return to normal. “Well…” Where do you begin? What questions do you ask potentially ancient beings? “I guess let’s start with what this,” you wave a finger around the table, at the seven other sets of eyes who watch you patiently, “is. The situation.”

Namjoon nods slowly. It seems he’ll be taking charge for this conversation, much to the visible relief of the others. “Even we aren’t completely certain of what exactly this is,” he says. “From what we’ve learned, our death granted us immortality, or something to that degree. We cannot die, nor can we get majorly injured. Any wounds heal quickly, and any illnesses metabolise out of our system before they can affect us.”

You nod. All of this you were already aware of.

“As for this,” he continues. He looks around the group, fighting back a fond smile. “We’re all connected. When someone else becomes like us, we all see visions of each other to help us find them. The same happened with you. You saw visions of us when you slept, and we saw visions of you. That’s how we could find you. The dreams gave us enough information to figure out who you were, and then it was a matter of locating you.”

“Which wasn’t easy, by the way,” Jimin adds, though there is no annoyance. “Your files were so deeply buried that we thought they might not exist. And don’t even get me started on accessing the satellite.”

“You hacked a satellite?” You can’t hide the shock in your tone, and you don’t miss the glint of mischief in Jimin’s eyes.

“That’s not important,” Namjoon says, taking control of the conversation once again. “What’s important is this: the eight of us are intrinsically connected now. We might not get the visions anymore, but we are still linked. The easiest way to describe it is that we’re soulmates, though that might not even be true. We were destined to find each other, to be immortal together. Whether it’s for some higher purpose, or just a random curse, we don’t know. It’s better, I think, if we don’t try and find out that reason.”

Now that confuses you. “Why? Isn’t it human nature to be curious?”

Hoseok scoffs. “I don’t think we fall under the definition of ‘human’ anymore.”

You’ll have to file that away for later.

Namjoon ignores Hoseok, and looks straight at you. “If we become too enveloped in trying to figure out the big ‘why’, we’ll get lost in ourselves. We’ll lose our own sense of purpose. If we were chosen, for whatever reason, then we have to trust that our instincts will guide us to do what is needed.”

“Okay.” You suppose he’s right. “Then, could you tell me how old you all are?”

“We don’t do ages,” Taehyung says. He sounds almost amused. “We know the age we were when we died, but we don’t keep track of how long we’ve lived after that. It’s a rule.”

“Then how about...generally? Who was the first? How did you all die?”

All eyes turn to Namjoon. Honestly, you can’t say you’re surprised.

“I was the first,” he says. A faraway look takes over his eyes, as if lost in the past. Seokjin puts a grounding hand on his shoulder. “I couldn’t figure out my actual age if I tried, but it was...a long time ago. I was the chief of my village. Killed for power. The story isn’t too interesting.”

There’s a brief moment of silence, and then Yoongi clears his throat. “I was the second. A slave to some tyrant who thought he was all-powerful. Killed in front of the other slaves to put them in line.” He shrugs, but doesn’t meet anyone’s eyes.

Hoseok is quick to speak next, his words are short and curt. “I was third. Court execution.” He seems reluctant, as if guarding his past behind the tightly-locked gates of his crossed arms, but you mean what you said to Namjoon earlier; you will wait for them. For however long it takes.

Next is Seokjin, and you have a feeling that his theatrics are for Hoseok’s benefit. “I was the lucky fourth, and a king, at that! Though I was only in the position for a few hours, and all public records of it were thrown into the river with my body. Which is a shame, really, because my portraits deserved to be in museums for all to marvel over.”

“Um.” Jeongguk seems nervous, and you see him hide his shaking hands beneath the table. “I was next. I died of...natural causes.”

“And we came as a set,” Taehyung smiles, arm slung over Jimin’s shoulders. “Died at the very same moment, and woke up the same way! We were best friends, right, Jiminie? On the opposite sides of a war, but I loved him with my whole heart.”

Jimin nods, a wistful smile pulling at his cheeks. “I remember thinking that I was so lucky, to die in his arms. To never have to live a single moment without him. And then we found the others, and I thought that I must’ve been in heaven to be so fortunate.”

“We’re all together,” Namjoon elaborates, though it’s unnecessary. A blind man could see the way they feel about each other. “It may be because of circumstance, though I like to think that it’s because we were all meant to be. Like it’s a gift from the universe, allowing soulmates born in different centuries to find each other.”

“And now you,” Jeongguk whispers. His eyes glimmer, hopeful, and so young despite the obvious years he has over you. You wonder why he doesn’t seem as emotionally aged as the others; what could cause him to cling to his youth the way he does. It doesn’t matter, though. If it means he keeps his heart, it will never matter.

“We don’t expect anything from you,” Seokjin says. “Not romantically or even platonically. You are still your own person, and if you don’t want to be a part of this, in any degree, we won’t force it.”

You are thankful for that. It takes away a pressure that you didn’t even know you had until now. The thought that this is a choice⎯⎯a decision that is completely yours to make⎯⎯relieves you to no end. And yet... 

“I don’t think that’s a decision I can make right now.” You mindlessly arrange the chopsticks on your now empty plate as you try to summon the right words to explain yourself. “There’s so much that I need to figure out, and so many things that I feel I have to do. I don’t even know if I’ve properly processed the situation yet, or if I’m simply in shock.”

“Is there any way we can help you?” Yoongi, as always, seems so genuine. So heartfelt. 

“You already have. So much more than you’d believe.” And it’s true. Independence is your life. You may have been in a team in your old life, a leader of a small group for whom you were responsible, but you were always brought up, always trained, to survive alone. To find comfort in an existence of solitude. Because that’s what the military is; it is removing yourself from others, from the world. You were in a team, sure, but you were all alike in your aloneness. Alone together.

Now, you have this group of men who, without knowing you, have plucked you from your misery and now offer you everything. Offer themselves, their companionship, their help. You are not the one responsible, the one with everything on the line. They have taken that from you with gentle hands, and you give it away gladly. There is not much else that you could ask of them.

Except. Well, maybe there is.

“But…” You trail off, and their eyes just scream patience. You don’t know how they do it, how they’ve grown to be so effortlessly composed and serene, because right now your heart is beating in urgency. It batters against your chest, yelling at you to just ask them, now, but your words falter in sudden uncertainty. They have already given you so much, offered even more; can you truly ask for the help that you now realise you may need?

You look into their eyes again, and know that the answer is yes.

“This mission,” you continue, sitting up straighter. If you speak with confidence, perhaps you’ll start to feel it. “As far as I know, it was never completed. When our team went in, it was under the belief that we’d be able to rescue all of the children safely and relatively unseen. Someone on the inside tipped them off, but they had to have had a reason. They wouldn’t have betrayed us like that unless something was wrong.”

“You speak like you know exactly who it was,” Hoseok says. It isn’t a question, and you see it in his expression that he isn’t necessarily looking for an answer.

You won’t give him one. Not yet. Not until you’ve figured out for yourself why this person would’ve left you for dead. “That isn’t important right now,” you say in lieu of a confirmation. “What matters is that those children are still out there somewhere, and there’s a leak in the operation.” Releasing a deep sigh, you slump down a bit. “I’m going back to the desert, back to the base, and I’m going to save those children. If you would like to help me...that would be really nice.”

“Of course we’ll help,” Jeongguk says, without hesitation. There’s a resoluteness in the set of his jaw that you haven’t seen in him before. “Anything you need. We mean it.”

“We should talk about this plan of yours first, though,” Namjoon says. “As far as the military is concerned, you’re dead. You died with your team. If you go back to your base of operations, that’s just going to open up a whole lot of complications for both sides. They might think that you were the traitor, being the only survivor. We’ll need to operate with a certain level of stealth.”

You were worried about that. Your dog-tags are with the rest of your team’s, your body supposedly burned along with theirs. You won’t be able to reprise the role you previously played in this, and you won’t have the military support that you once had. If you do this, it will be in the shadows, hiding behind corners and turning away from cameras. You are a ghost now. You’ll have to act like one.

“Okay,” you say. “I understand; we need to stay hidden. But there is one person that I need to see face-to-face. I can promise that they won’t do anything to endanger our identities.”

“It’s a bad idea,” Jimin says. “Trust is one thing when you’re alive, but if they’ve been mourning your death, you can’t know for sure how they’ll react.”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take,” you affirm. “I trust this person, and I’m going to need you all to trust me.”

Taehyung bites his lip in contemplation. “It isn’t that we don’t trust you,” he says, “but we can’t fully trust the situation. We don’t know this person, whoever they are, or how they’ll use this information against you. Against us.”

“I get it, I do.” You can’t help but sigh. “But this is something that I need to do, and something that I will do regardless of whether I have your permission. I won’t let my decision affect any of you, but if you decide against helping me because of this, I’ll understand.”

Yoongi leans forward. “We’re going to help you.” His tone is final. “And you’re right, this is your decision to make. We just want to make sure that you completely understand what you’re potentially getting yourself into.”

“You are all a lot older than me,” you say, “and obviously much wiser. But I’m an adult too, and I’m mature enough to know that my actions may have consequences. I’m no stranger to making tough decisions, or to taking responsibility. I may not be a Captain by rank anymore, but that doesn’t change who I am.”

“Okay,” Namjoon says. He doesn’t argue, nor does he apologise, but he doesn’t need to. There is a mutual understanding in the way you look at each other, and nothing more needs to be said. “So, what’s the plan?”

You take in a deep breath, and prepare your mind to return to the place you’ve grown to loathe.

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tags: @leafyturtle, @loveyoongles, @paint-music-with-me, @barbikatherine, @itsmorgo1604, @calling-dips-on-j-hope, @veronawrites, @applepie1000, @yoonchrisgullwrites, @ally22042000, @ireallylikefoodandyoutube, @blglmgk01, @basicgukk, @softescapism, @sinceritythatcouldntbedelivered, @m1nt-3lla, @hunnayesblog, @rosycheekb, @hemmofluke, @the-bisaster, @katbonv, @borahebangtan​, @monodroppp, @skyys-universe

#bts #bts angst #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts fluff #bts ot7 #bts ot7 x reader #bts poly #bts poly!au #bts poly au #bts reader insert #bts scenario #bts x reader #ot7 x reader #poly bts #poly bts x reader #namjoon x reader #seokjin x reader #yoongi x reader #hoseok x reader #jimin x reader #taehyung x reader #jungkook x reader #eternal #the old guard au #immortal bts

[stumacherstan]

Ares x goddess!Reader Part Two:

past!thanatos x reader

As you looked down at the casualties of your city, you sign yet again. “I suppose I haven’t been the best partner these past decades.” You uttered to yourself as you dramatically sat down on the temple, your legs dangling.

Your skin raises as a familiar coldness enshrouds you. Your body’s discards it and goes back to its regular temperature. You smile gently but don’t turn back. “Hello Thanatos.”

“Hello (Y/N), it’s been awhile.” The God of Death looked around. “I certainly didn’t expect the city of refugees to look like this,” he glanced at you, “nor expected it to survive.”

“I have to have tricks up my sleeve every now and then. You know me.”

“Knew.”

You didn’t dare flinch at the words. “Well, thank you for doing your job I suppose.”

“It’s the same old thing. Somebody has to.” Thanatos breathed in as he felt each soul descending with his presence. He had other places to be like always, but he did quite miss his time with you.

“It’s quite ironic isn’t it (Y/N)?”

“Don’t you dare finish whatever you are going to say.” You internally seethed as the hypocrisy that you were slowly becoming aware to.

“I’ll say this, I miss you.” He came up behind and his hand lingered on your shoulder. Thanatos felt a tinge of pain hit his heart when you shrugged him off. “However, I know you’re very much in love with him despite this difficult time. Don’t make the same mistake I made with you.”

You winced at those words. You couldn’t handle losing Ares too. He made you feel a different type of way than anyone else ever could. He had a part of you and you him. You looked over your people and saw them handling themselves.

You needn’t hold their hand for everything. You were a Goddess, not a babysitter. For the most part they took care of themselves so why were you wasting your time with them instead of your supposed husband?

The intense feeling of guilt pooled at your stomach. Your dear Ares must feel so neglected. You rubbed your temples again and sighed loudly.

“Thank y-“ As you turned, your old dear friend was already gone. He had done his job and left. “Well, time to find my beloved.”

________________________________

You stood before your grand shared home. People see Ares as prideful and arrogant, so you would assume the house would be large and grand. On the outside it was with its beautiful marble stature and complimenting staircase to the door.

Yet it was just a mini mansion you two enjoyed. Not as big as the other Gods homes. Ares likes a smaller space that has enough for his foolery. You smiled softly as you thought about how he crashed through the second story trying to prove a pint.

You entered and took a big whiff comfort and warmth. ‘It’s been awhile hasn’t it,’ you smiled bitterly to yourself. You looked around and giggled at the paintings, sculptures, and pictures of you and your dear husband. Such happy simple times. When did you become distant?

Your hands clasped each other’s tightly. You knew he was home, and you knew he knew you were home. “My sweet husband, your darling wife is home!” You called out the old saying you would say every time you came home. When he would come home he would say, “My darling wife, your sweet husband is home!”

Ares was still upset about the whole ordeal, but he would never deny you of your kiss of life and love and tight hug or protection. Or so you would call it. Thinking about it made his heart flutter. He finally walked down to you, and felt all those emotions from he first saw your beauty.

His breath got caught in his throat, his stomach was doing cartwheels, he’s sure he was having heart palpitations. Oh dear, you took his breath away. You were as gorgeous as the first day he met you. You didn’t change one bit.

Ares glided to you and hugged you tightly, dipping you like in those cheesy romcom moments and kissed you passionately. He carefully stood you both whilst your lips danced together. He didn’t want to pull away, but you did first; almost making him whine. Then he saw your eyes that held the sky and universe together.

“As beautiful as ever.” Ares breathed out.

You flushed slightly, “you’re just as charming.”

You couldn’t help but feel giddy being in his arms. His beautiful sunset orange eyes held so much passion and love for you that you felt exposed under it. A certain emotional vulnerability was being shown and felt that you hadn’t experienced in awhile. You did miss your husband during those years after all.

You laid your head on your chest. “I’ve missed you so much, even if I didn’t show it. Carry me to the couch? Somebody wore me out today.”

Ares chuckled as he lifted you with ease just like your wedding day. “Oh did they? Do I have to go and fight them for challenging my lady?”

You playfully swooned at his words and your fingers danced on his face. “You would do that for me?” You batted your eyes up at him innocently.

He carefully sat himself on the couch and adjusted your position to be gently laying on him. “I would do anything for my beautiful wife, anyone who dares strife with her shall have a problem with me.” He started twirling/twisting your hair with his fingers.

“How romantic!” You cheerfully giggled. You let yourself get comfortable and sighed on his chest. “However my dear, you need not strife with such a person. I handled it, you know me.”

“Ah of course of course, you are more than capable of taking yourself. I know.” Ares looked down at you with love. The feelings of bitterness and anger disappeared as you two chatted as if nothing happened. As if he wasn’t the one to fight you.

As looked upon him with the same passion in your orbs, you knew that at some point the discussion had to be talked about. You gently rested your hand on his chest as you cuddled deeper into his arms. “Ares...”

“(Y/N)...”

As stubborn as ever. “I-“ you shoved your face into his chest. “I’m sorry.” Your voice was muffled.

“What was that?”

“I’m. Sorry.”

“A little louder.”

“I’m sorry!”

“For what?”

“Ares...”

“What?”

“I’m sorry for, being an uncaring spouse. I didn’t realize how long the time had passed, and I didn’t consider your feelings. I’m really sorry, I didn’t realize how much we had drifted. I still really and care for you, please remember that. And i should’ve-“

Ares shushed you and gently patted your back. “You and your communication skills.”

Although you had no room to pout, you still did. “You’re not the one to talk.”

“Maybe so, but even then. It’s okay.”

“Are you sure?”

“We had our fight. Now we are here together.”

“I suppose so.”

“Should we go to my mother for counseling?”

You snorted loudly. “Please.”

“You’re right. We can work it out together.”

Comfortable silence ensued. The both of you reminiscing of old times, how it use to be. When he was your mighty God of War and you were his healing Goddess of Peace. Two peas in pod with delightful season of chaos.

“I really do love you. I promise, from here on out, we will spend more time together.”

“That’s all I ever wanted. I’ve missed you so much.” His arms squeezed you lightly and he buried his nose into your hair. “I’ve missed this.”

You choked back tears. “Oh by the stars, I love you so much.”

Ares hushed you with a soft kiss sealing your fate with him once more.

Two beautiful powerful Gods in love.

#please don’t come for me the lack of house design #i don’t know how to describe houses #i suck at interior and exterior design #also i had so much fun writing this #ares x reader #ares fic #ares #greek gods #greek god #greek myth #greek mythology #greek lore #god x reader #greek god x reader #goddess reader #uhhh if there’s any mistakes let me know!!!!

[morwensteelsheen]

farawyn and borodred for the ship ask game thing?

thank you so much!! :)

okay i’ll start with borodred because for some unfathomable reason i actually got there first —

1. What made you ship it?

One of my favourite Types of ships is the Elder Statesmen Of War-type set-ups, where it’s less about people brought together through theatrical romantic gestures and more about the steadiness of people who are going through similar (immensely difficult) circumstances, who know that in their hearts they’re always going to put their duty to that cause first, but still seek out human comfort in other people who will understand what their priorities are and why.

I think there’s also a lot of similarities about the kind of helplessness they both face despite having this tremendous innate strength. Both of them still have to deal with family dynamics that are complex (made more complex by the war) and that can’t be fixed just by their own sheer will power; both of them die these utterly unnecessary deaths (not that death makes a ship but I think in this instance it actually points to the constant tragedy these guys face); and both of them are meant to be the principal figures of their families and people and are ultimately sidelined by the cruel mechanisations of war and the forward march of history or whatever wanky term there is for it — my apologies to ep thompson's ghost, dont haunt me bro.

Plus there’s obviously the interesting thread raised when Faramir starts bitching about Gondor and likens Gondor (and by very explicit extension, Boromir) to Rohan. That always made me go ‘Hmmmmmm, wonder what else Boromir liked about Rohan,’ lmao.

Anyways for me the ship is the equivalent of Star Wars’ Kanan and Hera or (my OTP to end all others) Luke and Wedge, just people getting by on love and duty and without big ol fancy romance.

2. What are your favorite things about the ship?

The fanon, I think, really makes it, as with so many other LOTR ships. battlefield manners, by themightypen is essentially the definitive take for me on them — these two guys who are just so fucking exhausted, man, but still overcome by defensive love for their families, even if their (foster-)siblings are naïve fools. That I just love, love, love. Plus I think they’re unique for their ability to pretty comfortable explore the relationship between Gondor & Rohan in advance of the Ring War without having to stray too far into AU, which I always appreciate.

3. Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

Not really, tbh, except in that I don’t think Boromir is necessarily as laddy as people like to portray him. I’m happy to play into it in, say, my modern AUs because I think that’s a fun and sweet niche for him, but I am a bit 🤪 about Boromir as this kind of reckless, drunken playboy (not least because I think that’s a much funnier niche for Faramir to fill, at least when he’s younger). Chapter Four of Swaddledog’s Hearts and Minds gets my preferred Boromir characterisation absolutely spot on, I think.

And now, sigh, the ultimate OTP, Farawyn —

1. What made you ship it?

For starters, I think I am obsessed with Éowyn in a way I’ve never quite been obsessed with any other fictional character. I came to reading LOTR at this moment in my life where I was intensely frustrated about everything — trapped inside permanently (helplessly!) because of the pandemic, just starting a new political organisation that I truly believed in but that was still making me feel like shit, facing down an untenable about of work, and, fundamentally, really, really hating being a woman and what that means. And along comes Éowyn, who is bitter, who is cold, who is ANGRY, and who doesn’t perform joy or softness or gentleness just because people expect her to. She’s this seminal Woman Of War in so many ways, I think the kind of person a lot of us wish we could be. She’s got her emotional taps cut off at the source, she holds her head high and faces down unimaginable personal and political terrors, and at the end of it all still has this abiding love for her family that, I would argue, is almost unparalleled by anyone else in the book.

After all that, she gets this incredible moment of emotional catharsis (or what we expect to be emotional catharsis): “no living man am I!” She undertakes THE greatest martial act of the Ring War, and in that moment there’s this unbelievably sophisticated dialogue happening about gender (“Éowyn it was, and Dernhelm also”), and leadership (Merry finding his courage not because of the immediate scenario of the Witch-king, but because he’s spurred into it by Éowyn’s presence), and love and care.

And then we learn that no, actually, this glorious act of violence wasn’t the emotional catharsis we thought it would be. She gets to ride to war, she gets to throw herself headlong at death, and in the end that hopeless act of individualism isn’t really what does it for her. She’s still left desolate and despairing, and actually all of her problems haven’t gone away.

And then we need to rewind a bit, because along comes Faramir, who is gentle, and is kind, and does seem to believe in joy, but not because people expect it — actually it's made abundantly clear nobody expects it — but because it’s something quite innate to how he figures the world. And he’s a huge fucking nerd too. I have a lot of thoughts on Faramir’s flaws and why I find them endearing, which I won’t put here, but almost immediately you get this sense of a guy who’s quite melodramatic, good humoured, and very much not made to live in a time of war.

But he’s also clear-headed about war and what it requires (tactically, if not strategically, though that’s a post for another day), but who is kind of cynical and weary of it in his own unique way. And it’s a unique cynicism given his personal circumstances because he’s the second son of The great family of Gondor, he’s apparently — though with some big ol’ question marks hanging about the extent — very able to command some of the elite units in the realm, and what’s more than that, he’s got all these fantastical powers (the light mind reading to start, to say nothing of this apparently magical ability to command animals too. bruh.). By all accounts he should be this brazen hot mess, but he’s not. He’s desperate to claw his way out of this war-torn cage of expectation his people have for how a man should comport himself in time of war. Is it a little naïve? Sure. A little fussy? Absolutely. But does it point to that same desperation that Éowyn has? Yes! But also the practicality, like, neither of them are really enjoying the circumstances they live under, but good fucking god are they both able to Make It Work.

So finally we get to the Houses of Healing and what is the finest and most aggressively romantic writing of LOTR. Seriously, it’s so fucking much. It’s breathtaking. It reminds me quite viscerally of this fabulous quote from Les Mis:

The power of a glance has been so much abused in love stories, that it has come to be disbelieved in. Few people dare now to say that two beings have fallen in love because they have looked at each other. Yet it is in this way that love begins, and in this way only.

At some point I will devote more time to talking about the two reasons line, and the blissful Queen of Gondor speech, but I think to me that big, important line is: “And then her heart changed, or at least she understood it; and the winter passed, and the sun shone upon her.”

It’s not about Éowyn changing herself entirely (though, I think, it really does bear mentioning that she does change, and that’s every bit as important to understanding that scene as it is romantic), it’s about Éowyn coming to terms with how to live with herself as herself, and how to live in communion with someone else. She can’t just cut people out anymore, and she can’t just treat them as objects of infatuation as she did with Aragorn, she has to reckon with people as they are. And that’s sort of the moment where I knew I was about to plunge fully off the deep end with these two and never know a moments’ peace again, lmao.

2. What are your favorite things about the ship?

Someone on here once called Farawyn a love letter to women and, by god, yes, exactly that. I love the capacity for emotional intimacy, that is beautiful in ways I can’t express. To me, though, my favourite thing is the promise of life they speak of. Not as in oh they shag loads and have babies (though not opposed to that, obviously), but in the sense that unlike Aragorn and Arwen, who are always going to be buried under/burdened with the crushing weight of history and tradition, Éowyn and Faramir are going out yonder those hills and they’re going to do some real cottagecore farming shit. Obviously with all the trappings of rank and nobility and whatnot, but they, unique to anybody else in the books, get to sow this new idea of what life should be. They are, outside of Aragorn, the single most powerful people in Gondor. Éowyn’s got the ear of a king, a steward (which is essentially a prime-ministerial deal here), and functionally her own prince (if the hobbits are to be believed when they refer to it as essentially hers). I suspect that, in life, there were remarkably few arguments she wasn’t winning, and that Ithilien probably trended towards the jumped up noble hippie camp Tolkien so desperately wanted Oxford to be (or, in other words — Cambridge, lol).

3. Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

Yeah, man, everybody stop treating Faramir like he’s a big fucking crybaby and Éowyn like she’s some kind of shrieking 2010-era tumblr girl.

One of the single most important lines defining Faramir’s character is when Denethor roasts his ass for always trying to appear noble and lordly, if you ignore every other piece of textual evidence we have about him, what part of that line makes you think Faramir’s some simpering daisy? And why would you want to link tremendous emotional intelligence and care with being too limp-wristed to function, lol??? Like I struggle loads with writing Faramir, because I have never once in my life tried to be noble or self-restrained, so find it hard to get into that mindset, but better, I think, to imagine him too closed off than to do this wilting flower song and dance lmao.

And stop making Éowyn out to be this over-emotional angst machine. She’s got problems, yes, and she’s sure as shit got a lot of angst, but at almost every point in the book where we’re overtly dealing with her emotions, she’s sublimating them into something else. One of the most serious times we see her cry is when she’s fighting with Aragorn about riding out, and after that moment she literally tries to kill herself. Those tears aren’t standard, man, that’s a real watershed (lol) moment for her. You have to read around what the text is saying to get a better feel why everybody’s constantly calling her cold and distant.

#god this is probably obnoxiously long because i can't do cuts on my phone #but refuse to open the tumblr website on my laptop lmao #faramir #éowyn #boromir #théodred #farawyn #borodred #god sorry for these fucking tags man im just trying to make my blog slightly more organised #i just have a lot of thoughts #i should really write more metas it would probably help my writing out quite a bit #asks #meta

[starrysupercell]

UwU the rest of the outline at per request. @lumpy-veev (still unfinished but it's okay! This should be thought of as a rough draft.) 💙

🦝 "RaR 3" or "Breaking Point" 🐍

It would be an unofficial Brawl, which is not allowed, but it happens, and what can you even do?

I see the two as basically ignoring each other's presence upon finding out that the other is there. Of course, as much as they won't admit it, it's making them think of. Everything.

This leads to even more on edge tense atmosphere whenever they would cross each other's path, because even if it’s a big park, you can only avoid someone for so long, especially when you happen to have common associates. (the Coworkers, Tara, etc.)

It doesn’t help they have growing animosity and take every little thing personally for every interaction.. and it’s only been a month or two.

Rumors begin to pick up around the park-- Just a little chatter at the bar. Just a little observation that those two sure have something between them huh? The gossiper is shushed, because did you forget who runs the place? his connection to Byron?

Luckily, the bartender didn’t seem to hear. He was busy cleaning glasses. The topic’s changed. customers continue to come and go.

One who arrives is Piper, who sits down at the bar. It’s busy, so she waits patiently for Barley to get her usual. (he’s good at that.) He sets down a coaster and the glass in front of her, but instead of a greeting and bustling away this time, he sticks around.

“Byron is well on his way to becoming a topic of interest around here...” he tells her.

She leans forward with a smile. “What have they said? And who, for that case?”

He explains what he heard, and omits the names.

Piper thoughtfully considers this. She had noticed this, but hadn’t chalked it up to a personal history, just conflict of interest. (byron was well off, belle was a thief. he would be cautious) Now that she knew, she wanted every drop of intel.

“I can talk to him. we wouldn’t want our dear coworker being talked about, do we?”

“I do not.” Barley replied, tipping his hat to bid her goodbye as he steps away to another client. He lets Piper take care of this, because he likes letting people come to him if they want to talk, and he feels that Byron would have already approached him if that were the case.

~

So, it’s another one of their patented teatime tête-à-têtes.

Piper skirts around the issue before dropping the news of whispers about the two.

But Byron doesn’t humor the topic, and refuses to talk about it.

Piper cheerfully pokes at him. “Crossed paths? Did you know her before the Park? maybe previous business associates? She robbed you, but you had good insurance, and one day she tricked you? Ooh~ Former flames-?"

And then Byron stands up and is about to leave wordlessly until that last suggestion processes bc if he doesn’t clarify now, ugh that’s gonna be what Piper thinks is plausible (kind of, bc he gay af) and he does NOT want that to be a thing.

“She’s a relative,” he says with so much distaste before he leaves that Piper is even more intrigued. but at the same time, there’s something that tells her she shouldn’t fan the fire any further.

they’ve had their share of back and forths, and it’s been a blue moon since something had gotten him so upset that he just up and leaves.

she drops it, and as the #1 gossipmonger of the park, the hushed whispers of “mystery between byron and belle?” is completely stamped out with a dismissive attitude and several “Really? I didn’t notice anything.”

If Byron really and truly didn't want this around the park, she'd honor that.

~

Of course, with QD Edgar on occasional trips with the Gang, that’s the biggest connection the sibs have at the moment.

The first time Edgar name dropped Byron, Belle froze and listened to 2.47 more seconds of the teen's rambles before telling him to get a move on around camp and quit yapping.

Edgar didn't notice this first time around and grumpily went about his way.

But I'm sure there's one thing or another that makes Edgar talk about his dad manager again, and one thing that will really piss Belle off, is comparison.

Tara, who notices the shift in mood, puts herself in between Edgar and Belle and swiftly soothes things over. She suggests getting on with the plan they have (already knowing what Belle will respond with).

"heist cancelled," Belle states, rearing up Elodie and galloping away from camp. (She usually winds down on her own after celebrating a big heist, but never before-- and never had called it quits at that.)

Edgar is put off. Tara muses that it's nothing he could help...

On her own, Belle just contemplates everything. Hours. It brings up familiar memories of being up on the rooftop with her head buried into her arms and knees feeling terrible.

Except now she's more than grown, with her share of things to be proud of and great memories she forged on her own. She's not curled up on herself anymore. She's staring to the long distance of the desert-- her home-- traveling with ease.

That stupid rooftop section of her life is nothing more than a fraction of her well-lived life.

It doesn't make her feel better.

Yet another thing Byron ruins for her without even trying.

She needed a drink.

~

Not wanting to head back to her camp for the night, and not in the mood to try nabbing some good drink, Belle simply walks into the bar and orders something.

Barley treats her the same as any Brawler, despite what he now knows about her.

As far as he was concerned, she came in there as a customer. And as long as she paid, he saw no problem in serving her...

She drinks quietly, and he keeps an eye on her intake.

And eventually, just like with any other customer with something heavy on their mind and enough drinks, words flow easier.

She doesnt use names, and keeps terms vague. Speaks angrily of her parents. Calls the brother a "dumbass of a pushover."

Now, it isnt like he associates Byron as a (pardon his french) 'dumbass' in any way, but it's the way she uses it that makes Barley connect the dots. The tone wasn't as bitter. Almost fond. Almost.

He lightly prods for a little bit more insight, and she gives up a little more as she drinks.

Unlike the other two members of his Trio, it wasn't in his nature to gossip, so this would stay between them.

Barley listens, because that's what she needs right now. Not advice, not interjections or lectures or deflecting the subject. Just someone to listen.

Eventually he cuts her off before she gets too inebriated (and probably causes trouble.)

{I AM going to write this scene out in depth. And cry while doing so.}

~

On the other side, after the season and back at the Gift Shop, Edgar is 🤔🤔 over that incident. He considers talking with Colette but 1) she's as mad as a Colette could be at the fact that he hung out with the NEW BRAWLER and TARA and didnt bother getting her ANYTHING. and 2) tbh she's a blabbermouth.

Byron does his regular check of the shop that day. Making sure Colette hasn't run off and Edgar isnt sneaking a nap.

He welcomes Edgar back from his little trivial loot and shoot games.

While Edgar hadn't even thought twice about it before, he recalls that when he had told Byron he'd be working at a different section of the park (namely with the new Brawler, Belle) he had acted just as dismissive.

Like yeah, there was your usual "old man doesn't get the teens" shenanigans, but Byron had never belittled his interest in anything before. Calling his involvement in the season a 'trivial game' sounded... personal.

He outright asks Colette if Byron was acting weird.

Any snippiness that Colette may have had for 2 minutes diminishes when there's a chance to talk with her favorite person in the world that she's seen little to none of for two months, AND about her favorite topic: Brawlers!

She spills everything she knows, because despite Piper's efforts, theres no secret a Brawler can try to keep when shes around.

She didn't find out everything of course. But she knows that there were questions involving Byron and Belle. Piper hushed it up, so for sure there was something.

Edgar nods. "Totally. I think she was close to rippin' my head off once. I brought up Byron once and she was ready to chew me out." (in case i didn't make it clear, Edgar picked up a slight drawl because of belle)

"Cool!" Colette exclaimed. "..I mean, not the rip your head off part. But that is cool too. I meant do we have lore on our hands?? That nobody ELSE knows!!?"

Edgar shushed her. Byron is in his office but the shop wasn't really sound proof.

......cue shenanigans from the Coworkers trying to figure things out in their very amateurish ways compared to Piper by "sneaking" around and "nonchalantly" trying to get him to admit something.

Byron knows they're up to something, and humors them until realizing the topic when Edgar tries bringing up the Goldarm Season.

He shuts them down even faster than Piper.

Of course, instead of deterring them like her, he just confirms their suspicions. Colette and Edgar are "o yeah we are def going to get to the bottom of this."

~

So, it's plan B! If they even try asking Piper she throws them for such a loop and leaves them so bewildered that Colette even forgets to ask for anything she could keep, and Edgar didnt realize she gave them nothing to work with until they're already out the door and down the street with cake pops in their hands.

So, Plan C! ...Barley.

It's hard to find a time to go there, since it's busy when they get off work. And Barley always seems to be at one place or another....

So the kids choose the perfect time (roughly midday), and just wait for the perfect day... when Byron comes in and checks the shop, then decides on his own that they could handle it for the rest of the shift and leaves them to it.

When the stars align, the teens wait until Byron is out of sight, and close up the gift shop. Their plan is to head to the bar... and maybe try and get something out of Barley..... not much of a plan, but they don't realize it there.

They make haste, running to the bar, because time crunch (when/if complaints start rolling in.)

Bursting through the doors of the Bar, Barley gives them a look. "Don't.. do that, please."

Colette apologizes enthusiastically, and urges Edgar forward. "Ask him! I'll keep watch!"

She hops over to the door and peers through it periodically.

Meanwhile, Edgar is stammering because he didnt plan anything to say, he expected Colette to talk to the robot.

"If you two think I allow underage drinking, I most certainly do not, no matter what Penny says." Barley warns.

"Uhh, no it isn't that. ...Umm. do ya know... well, you would know about Byron, and not Belle, I guess. But they've been acting weird lately, and we want to know why."

. . .

Barley pauses in consideration.

Options and questions flood around his mind, and he still had no answer.

Wonders if he should even mention Belle's visit some time ago, or the fact that he knows more in depth about it than Byron would care for, or that if Piper found out he knew more than her, and then told these two over would she be offended? ....Actually, in that case, why was he considering telling them anyway? Well, if they were interested in the topic for genuine reasons...

Edgar doesn't even know what to do either. Barley's not saying anything.

Colette squeaks, and scrambles from the door. "Edgar!! Any luck here? Because we're out of it over there!"

"What?"

"I think I see Byron heading here!!"

Who would have thought.

this is where i kind of dropped off the outline, but to continue/wrap it up, Barley points them to the curtain that covers the back room. There's an exit there which he tells them about, but the teens stay to EAVESDROP bc they care.

Barley and Byron chat. the conversation dips into the area having to do with Belle.

Byron frowns. "If I didn't know any better, I would think you're trying to get me to admit something, Barley. I can understand Piper, but you?"

"Me?" Barley asks. "Sir, you know I never mean harm."

"..." Byron stares at him unconvinced. "If Piper did put you up to this, you can tell me."

"U.. Believe it or not, I am among others in this park who care about you, Byron."

"...." wouldn't that be nice. But Byron believes him. My bad. He humors his coworker for now. "Fine." And asks for a drink.

Barley gets him his preferred one. [Lol I'll come up with it eventually.]

They talk. Barley finds out a little more. But just a little bit. Byron... it isnt like he has practice talking about ☆~feelings~☆

The teens listening in leave before too long. Colette is like O.O;; and Edgar decides that all they wanted to know was the relation between Byron and Belle, and they got that.

She agrees, and they both leave through the back door.

Byron didn't get as drunk ofc, it's still his working hours. Just enough to loosen up a bit and get through mild robot therapy.

After his leave, Barley sees him off, and then goes to check in the back. They're gone and he has a brief "oh, thought they would have gotten the hint to, listen in. Oh, well."

[There's one more event, involving the Coworkers interacting with Belle one last time, but still unplanned <3 it leads to the meet up and the fight... somehow though. I'll release that when I think of it.]

I can also see Piper being ":0 you knew before I did? And didn't tell me? You're mischievous, Barley!" In a very light hearted way at the very end.

Barley frets ;;; "I am not!"

#Brawl Stars #Townsfolk Trio #Belle #SCT #Coworkers #My Outlines

[prose-for-hire]

An impassioned debate

Pairing: Giles x Spike (”platonic” but they’re arguing lol)

Request: Spike & Giles bicker fest a la missing moments from when they were housemates, please?

Requested by: @staycalmandbeafan 

Warning: Sex references.

A/N: Sometimes when I write I assume the attitude of one of the characters. Therefore, Spike doesn’t always appear in a good light lol (It was fun to write though and I got a little carried away sorry) 💜🖤

Giles liked to live alone.

He had grown up living with his parents. He had roommates in university. He even flat-shared in the communal house him and the friends he hung around at the time broke into and claimed as their own in his early twenties.

And that, is exactly how Giles knew he liked to live alone. Some days he could barely tolerate the young people that no matter how fond of them he was, would go on about pointless and often arbitrary nonsense in his presence.

His home then, became his sanctuary. A place where he could shut out the world.

That was until one fateful day in the all-too recent past. Thanksgiving day. A day where the Americans gave thanks for the parts of their lives they are grateful for. He thought he ought to partake in tradition and suggested how grateful he was for Buffy and the others.

A silent, more self-indulgent thanks was to the peace and quiet he would get at the end of the day. His house to himself, not shackled by parents. Kept up all hours by housemates or forced into copious amounts of overly emotional performance at the hands of the well-intentioned Americans.

This silent thought was shattered as a thud at the door announced an unwelcome visitor.

That’s how Giles ended up with a new houseguest. The vampire chained to his tub. A tub he had been very fond of until Spike had come in and ruined with his stench. He was probably the only person that smelt this bad after spending this amount of time in the bathtub.

It would be fair to say that Giles hadn’t been a very welcoming host, but to put it in context, despite being ‘harmless’ Spike had tried to bite Giles not once, but twice. Upon the first attempt being a near-miss and the second ending in blinding pain for the corpse-faced lunatic, he had the gall to tell Giles that he would taste like a dried up old prune anyway.

There was also the incident on Thanksgiving day itself where he managed to eat half a plate of cookies before anyone had the chance to stop him. A miraculous feat when you note that his hands and feet were bound tight.

These were, for the most part issues that Giles could look past. Especially now he was sure that Spike was unable to actually harm him. But what he couldn’t get past were, well, every other area that involved living with Spike.

The issues could be divided as such: Eating habits; sleeping habits; general depravity and what one could only describe as ‘The Passions debate’.

We should probably begin with the sleeping habits:

Or lack thereof. Spike was cat-like in the sense that he didn’t usually get a full night’s, or days, sleep. He tended to sleep a couple hours here or there seemingly whenever he pleased. Which meant that when he was tied up after dark, the vampire had a whole lot of thoughts and nowhere else to go so he seemingly spoke them out loud.

Giles tossed and turned in his bed desperately clinging to sleep, able for the most part to ignore the constant babbling of Spike’s innermost thoughts. Which actually amounted to shagged someone, shagged someone oh I drank some blood, shagged someone.

It was utterly mind numbing and Giles was beginning to feel that should he ever get out of this arrangement alive he would look into finding a house in the middle of a deserted island. Never to return to civilisation.

Giles managed to mostly ignore the fanged menace. Until the singing started. Or, what Giles would only call tuneless hollering. He butchered every punk song known to man and some surprisingly sugary pop ballads that Giles wouldn’t dare comment on, less he revealed that he himself knew the songs lyrics too.

He actually started singing to pass the time, it was lyrical to begin with but as the night wore on he started to shout the words, the tune lost. Sacrificed to a greater goal. Irritation.

He grinned when Giles padded downstairs to try to silence the din.

“Alright, Rupert? Here for dinner and a show?”

“I’m going to gag you” Giles warned. Something they had already had numerous arguments over.

“Well, you’re really gonna have to take me out to that dinner then” Spike smirked at Giles’ disdain for his words, moving his head slightly at the man’s reaction.

“Will you shut up! For God’s sake, man, be quiet!” Giles shouted, sleep-deprivation and living with someone that had more fangs than brains made him more and more irate. It made Spike smile even further, his next words making Giles about three seconds from throttling him (which, wouldn’t have killed him but it would have been very satisfying for Giles).

“Well, seein’ as you’re awake and all and got nothing better to do, be a love and get me some blood?” Spike cackled. Giles stopped himself from going near Spike and instead trailed to the kitchen, hoping it would at least shut him up for five minutes.

Which brings us nicely along to eating habits:

“I like a bit of texture in it!” Spike had shouted one morning. His blood was steaming but Giles had returned back into the kitchen with it to add something to try and get a moment’s peace.

He had been playing a very enjoyable game of see how many times he can send the same mug of blood back before Giles realised he was only doing it to annoy him. The highest score had been 3 times and only, in Giles’ defence, because the man hadn’t been properly awake that morning.

Giles had hit Spike twice (which was very tame considering the horror that was a feral vampire that wasn’t used to being in a domestic setting). Once because of the aforementioned incident and the second time after a particularly heated debate that we will discuss later.

Spike had been lounging on the sofa again, getting crumbs all over his chair. Giles swung his feet and made him sit up as he spoke.

“Will you bloody-”

“Oh don’t start conjuring those sweet massacres in my mind, Rupes, makes a fella’s hunger unbearable” He rubbed his stomach that did in fact appear to be gurgling at the mere mention of the word.

Spike, when he was allowed out of his restraints and Giles saw it was too much like hard work to be waiting on Spike all of the time, began to make his own meals. Which, really, just created more of a mess. And a distinct lack of Weetabix around the house.

He created the worst combinations known to man, sometimes to annoy Giles and other times to just see how it went. He sprayed cans of whipped cream in his mouth left over from Thanksgiving, ate crackers with every topping he found in the house and made sure to use the least amount of manners as possible whilst doing so.

Which brings us onto the section Giles would entitle, Spike’s ‘generally depraved character’:

Giles was still in the habit of tying Spike up at night, but he had subsequently allowed him to walk around in the day after a while.

There had been one evening where Spike ran through the entire house, struggling at every turn so that Giles couldn’t tie him up again. He was bored and it was fun making the human chase him. Eventually he was cuffed and tied to his chair and left there through the day so that it didn’t happen again.

Luckily, Spike had gotten bored of that game and just let Giles tie him up at night again now. Not without comment, of course.

“Call that a knot? I’ve had tighter curls, mate” Spike rolled his eyes as Giles looked over the glasses perching on the end of his nose. He then reached and tightened the knot by a lot making Spike yelp and scowl at him.

“Hey! You can’t just leave me like this – I’m getting’ rope burn here!” he shouted as he struggled, thus giving himself worse rope burn.

“Ah, yes and what’re you going to do about it, Spike, hm? Serenade me to death?” Giles rolled his eyes in disdain. He rolled his shoulders, adjusting his position with a scowl stamped on his face. 

He watched Giles get back to reading his paper. He let him get a few lines in before he interrupted him this time.

“Not exactly the five star digs I’m used to” Spike said which made Giles scoff. He had seen many of the places Spike had called home and none of them were fit for burying a corpse in let alone housing a living one.

“I can untie you and you can just leave, Spike, I’m sure burning to a crisp would really show me what for” Giles muttered, focusing on the paper he had been trying to read.

“Oh, I see you. Thinking you’re better than me – smarter. Anyone can read books, they don’t make it their whole sodding personality. You’re a good ol’ British stereotype, Rupes,”

“Ah, yes, well, many people can read Spike but it takes a particularly impervious individual to be so oblivious to their own misgivings that they result in insulting themselves in the same breath as their foe”

Spike rolled his eyes at the use of the word ‘foe’ but kept silent for a while. It was a rare silence and Giles made the most of it. Savoured it. He wasn’t sure if it was the big words that had evaded him or just the fact that his insult had resonated. But he didn’t say these thoughts out loud, less he would have to listen to Spike’s sparkling wit.

However, lo and behold, Spike suddenly spoke up again. 

“You know what I miss?” Spike asked, leaving Giles sighing audibly and putting his unread book back down. He had tried several times to read the same line.

“No, but I assume that you’re about to enlighten me”

“Civil wars”

“What?!” Giles asked incredulously, taking his glasses from his face just so he didn’t have to look at the vampire who appeared to be staring up at the ceiling and reminiscing.

“Yeah” No nodded, “There’s just something about a civil war… could be the fear. Aphrodisiac, it is”

“I’m not sure I agree-”

“Probably ‘cause you’d be the one doing the fearing you great ponce”

“Now-” Giles was ready to launch into a barrage of insults, using all of his wit to ground Spike into the pile of dust and ash he was destined to be. But then, he took a breath. He decided to hit Spike where it hurt, “That’s it! No more television”

“What?!” Spike shouted, his eyes bulging in horror, “You can’t do that, I’m dyin’ here gramps-!”

“You’re already dead”

“Yeah, well, now I’m rotting away here with the living. I mean, you’ve aged – I saw your graduation photo in the hall. It’s like lookin’ in a particularly haunting mirror when I see you” Spike spoke smugly of the way his face hadn’t aged despite being older than Giles.

There was a stony silence for a while. Giles went quiet. When Giles went quiet, he was mad. The kind that could become insidious. His fists curled and his mind raced. Blood pumping hot around his body.

But, after a moment, he resolved himself. Spike wasn’t worth Ripper making an appearance. No, Spike wasn’t worth anything.

“Why don’t you read something, or perhaps figure out how to count past two?” Giles offered, stepping away from where the tv was now staying off. Spike’s face turned sour at the prospect of another afternoon with his thoughts.

“How about four?” Spike asked, flipping the v’s with both arms raised at the man who looked like he was about to thump his guest yet again.

“You’re a piece of work, Spike”

“Thanks” Spike nodded, still looking at Giles expectantly, waiting for the television to be turned back on. But when he turned way and started to look busy Spike’s mood changed.

“Come on, it’s telly time!” Spike shouted but Giles just took his jacket and left the house for the rest of the day. Leaving Spike bored and trying to avoid the patches of sunlight where Giles had ‘accidentally’ opened some of the curtains on different levels of the house.

When Giles eventually began to turn the television back on for Spike, it leads us on to ‘The Passions debate’:

“Are you blind willingly or are you truly this ignorant?!” Giles shouted, his words directed at Spike but his eyes were glued to the screen. No matter how much he had fought it, Giles had been well and truly sucked into the fictional world.

“Don’t be a bloody idiot! It’s clear as sodding day that they’re meant to be together” Spike gestured wildly at the screen.

“Their relationship is forced – there is no real meaning there!” Giles insisted, much like most shows on television in his opinion.

“You got it all wrong - it’s fate, destiny or any of that bollocks”

“Ah, yes, that would be the latter”

“Don’t be daft, Ripper – have you seen them?! Pure chemistry. Nobody can act that good either, they’re shagging behind the scenes – mark my words”

“You really are as perceptive as a wooden spoon, Spike” Giles berated him.

“That’s rot, that is! They’re shagging no two ways about it”

“Two people can have chemistry and maintain a platonic relationship” Spike raised an eyebrow at him and Giles had become heated in the debate, “They are not bloody shagging!”

“Aw, does it bother you that fictional characters are getting more action than you?” Spike mock-pouted. Trying to rile the man up further. This was where it descended into chaos.

“Ah, fortunately I’m satisfied in the knowledge that there will always be someone that is worse-off than myself” Giles paused before asking, “Is Drusilla well?”

“Bugger off! That was low for an ex-watcher who gets all his happy feelings from a group of school children” Spike pounced on him, going for the jugular, “You spend an embarrassing amount of time with dear Buffy. I wonder, what could you be doin’ behind closed-”

Spike was cut off by a blow to his face. It sent him flying backwards and splintered the wooden chair he had been sat on into pieces.

“Out!” Giles demanded, face like thunder, “Out before I do something I wouldn’t regret!”

Both Spike and Giles eyed the weapons chest that was on the floor between them before looking back at the other. Both were trying to calculate how long it would take the other to get there. After a moment, Spike got to his feet and just slinked off to a different corner of the house until he got hungry and Giles went to walk off his anger.

That had been the last straw. Soon after this particular incident, Spike was shipped off the Xander’s basement. Giles finally got his house back. His wooden chair however, unfortunately never recovered.

#Spike btvs #Spike #Giles #Rupert Giles #Spike x Giles #Spike fic #Giles fic #Rupert Giles fic #Buffy The Vampire Slayer #buffy the vampire slayer imagines #btvs imagine #btvs #buffyverse #buffyverse fic #Spike btvs x Rupert Giles

[nyabby-keromatsu-kimori]

Bittersweetshipping Week 2021 - Day 2 - Stargazing

“That was such an intense battle!!” Kiawe shouted for the tenth time in the span of five minutes, pumping his fists in the air. “Now I’m all fired up!!”

“You know, you could always just ask Kukui if you can battle Incineroar,” Sophocles reminded him. When the match had first ended, Sophocles had been just as hyped up as Kiawe, but it had been a long day and everybody (apart from Kiawe, apparently) was starting to feel a little worn out.

It was seemingly a regular old Saturday, and for some reason Kukui had decided to treat the entire class (which admittedly was a pretty small group now that there were only 4 of them) to a day out. They’d been all around Alola, taking tours of Lush Jungle and Poni Canyon, having lunch at a very fancy restaurant and getting exclusive front row seats to the Masked Royal’s latest match. The group was now sitting outside the arena, waiting for Kukui to finish up backstage so that they could meet up with Burnet and Lei at a local restaurant for dinner.

“But don’t you think it’s kinda weird?” Sophocles asked. “I mean, Kukui’s always super nice to us, but this whole big day out thing is kind of a lot, especially since he’s been paying for everything. It all kinda just came out of nowhere…”

“Maybe he has something planned?” Kiawe suggested. “Or maybe today is special for some reason, like some kind of anniversary or something.”

“If that were the case, wouldn’t he wanna spend it with his family instead?”

“Guys, can you just drop it?” Lana snapped, taking her eyes off of Mallow for the first time all day in order to glare at the boys. Unlike them, she knew exactly why Kukui had been putting so much effort into keeping everybody occupied and distracted today, and the last thing any of them needed was to draw attention to it-

Suddenly, Mallow silently stood up and started walking away.

“Mallow? Where are you going?”

Mallow stopped when her name was said, but didn’t turn to look at anybody. “I-I’m, uh, just getting some fresh air!” she replied with a shaky voice before breaking into a run.

“But we’re outside??” Sophocles questioned, but his comment only earned him another glare from Lana, who quickly stood up and went after Mallow.

Mallow had already disappeared from view at this point, but Lana knew of a few places that Mallow might go to in order to be alone. It took a few tries to find the right one, and by the time she reached the small hill, the sun had already finished setting, the stars starting to emerge. Lana walked slowly so as not to startle Mallow, who was curled up in a ball, holding her legs to her chest and burying her face in her arms. As she got closer, she could hear the sobs that Mallow was desperately trying to muffle, a sound which always broke Lana’s heart no matter how many times she’d heard it.

Lana sat down next to Mallow, giving her some space but still staying within arm’s reach. They sat in silence for a bit as Lana tried to think of something to say, before Mallow lifted her head slightly and broke the silence.

“I thought it would get easier…”

“Hm?” Lana softly hummed, gently encouraging Mallow to continue.

“Thanks to Tapu Fini…I got to talk to her…get closure…and it’s been 8 years…but I still can’t get through the day without crying…” Mallow’s voice was quiet, unsteady, and she choked up a little. “She wouldn’t want me to cry…”

“There’s nothing wrong with being sad about losing a family member,” Lana gently reminded her. “Especially on the anniversary of her death.”

Mallow curled up more, making herself look smaller. Lana knew from experience that this specific movement and posture usually indicated that Mallow didn’t want to be touched at the moment, so instead Lana looked around for something to distract her with.

“Hey, look, it’s a Rayquaza.”

“Just the constellation though, right?” Mallow tilted her head slightly to look at Lana. Lana gave her a cheeky grin and a wink, and despite how low she felt, Mallow couldn’t ignore how her heart skipped a beat and was kind of glad that her face was already flushed from crying.

Lana pointed up at the sky. “And look, the Drampa constellation!”

Mallow glanced up at where she was pointing, then back at Lana, looking a bit confused. “I don’t think I’ve heard of that one…”

“And next to it is the Tsareena constellation!”

Mallow chuckled a little, smiling fondly at her best friend. “Okay, now you’re definitely just making it up.”

Lana shrugged. “Aren’t all constellations made up?”

“…yeah. I guess so,” Mallow replied. She knew Lana was just trying to distract her, and while it was only partially working, Lana’s presence and the fact that she cared enough to go to so much effort definitely helped her feel better. Eventually, she looked away in order to follow Lana’s gaze, staring up at the stars. “So, what other constellations are up there?”

--------

( @bittersweet-week​ )

#sorry it's a bit late but to be fair everybody else is late too #yes there are other people doing it we're more active on the discord server #lana #mallow #trainer lana #pokemon lana #trial captain lana #pokemon mallow #trainer mallow #trial captain mallow #suiren #mao #スイレン #マオ #bittersweetshipping #aquariumplantshipping #suimao #スイマオ #pokemon #pokemon sun and moon #pokeani #pokemon anime #alola #pokemon sumo #pokemon sm #mallow x lana #lana x mallow #stars #stargazing #bittersweetshipping week

[a-solitary-marshmallow]

A crack in the mask

This is something I wrote for @teacupfulofstarshine, set in her breathtaking au ‘the crossroad of our destinies’. After binging it three times in one week, I got inspired to write a little angst! Unresolved, but I guess you’ll have to read Star’s story to find out how it resolves.

(I hope you like it Starmom, I really super duper love your work and reading it makes me so happy, I know this isn’t a super happy piece but I wanted to give something back and I got so INSPIRED)

...

Virgil hadn’t been raised by benders.

In his tribe, he was alone in that aspect – precious, rare, but also different. He’d had to learn early, to train alone, teach himself how to master his bending. That hadn’t made him exempt from the other lessons the water tribe taught their children.

How to sew. How to fight. How to fish and sail and repair a boat when necessary. And how to be strong.

Since leaving on this big adventure with the Avatar and his friends, Virgil was learning all kinds of new ways to be strong. Patton was strong in standing up for his beliefs without violence, and letting his emotions show. Logan was strong in his loyalty to his brother. Roman was strong in his disloyalty to his father, in choosing where he truly belonged and choosing to fight against what he had known his whole life.

In the water tribe, the way to be strong was to be as impassive as the ice under your feet. Cool, calm, collected, even in the face of fear and danger. It was how the men of the water tribe were supposed to act when conflict struck. Of course, now Virgil knew that that approach wasn’t the best for every situation; that bottling up your feelings could lead to an explosion and make everything worse.

But some habits were hard to shake.

Which was why when Roman shot glares at him from across the campfire, Virgil looked back coolly. Why he kept up his icy façade and turned away and spoke dryly, as if Roman’s avoidance and suspicion were merely an annoyance, rather than a painful twist of the knife. Why he sighed and explained things calmly and walked away from situations instead of escalating them.

Of course, Virgil knew that the cool mask could only last so long. Which was why in the dead of night, with the fire burnt down to coals and the steady snores of his companions rising around him, Virgil rose from his sleeping bag and made his way through the woods, weaving out of the little clearing they’d set up camp in. Remy twitched when he stepped on a twig. Virgil froze and after a moment the bison settled down again. Virgil let out a breath.

There was no moon tonight, the thin crescent slit hidden behind thick swathes of clouds that hung over the world like a grey blanket. They cast the world into a haze of shadow and more often than not Virgil had to feel his way through the trees, following the low gurgle of water from the brook he knew was nearby. He could tell when he reached it, less from seeing and from feeling the ground under his feet change from root-crossed soil to pebble-strewn grass. Virgil dropped to his knees and buried his hands in the water – it was bitingly cold. It made his fingers tingle and spark with pins and needles. It felt almost like home.

Here, in the quiet and the dark, with only the water for company, Virgil let himself cry. His shoulders hunched and despite his efforts to hush them, soft hiccups and sobs rose into the air, muted by the clouds and the trees all around. Misery filled him and spilled down his cheeks in hot trails.

It was only fitting that a water bender express agony with water. The droplets slipping down his face dripped from his chin but never reached the water. By their own decision they collected together and hovered in the air in a swirling, wriggling ball of pain that was not unlike the squirming of Virgil’s stomach.

He didn’t know how long he cried for – not even the moon was out to guide him tonight. But eventually he ran out of tears to cry, or at least ran out of energy to cry them; the collection of salty droplets splashed down into the brook and he pulled in a long, shuddering breath.

So they didn’t think of him as family anymore. So Logan was scared of him and Roman shot him glares and Patton said in his innocent way, “Even if he did try, I’m too fast for him!” So they were only keeping Virgil around so he could get them into the Northern Water Tribe and everyone knew it. So what? It made no difference. Virgil could do his part to help the avatar, and then Thomas and his friends would leave and go save the world or some shit. Virgil didn’t have to be with them. If anything, this was good – he wouldn’t have to hide his water bending anymore. It didn’t hurt that much.

(His heart told him he was lying. Virgil told it to shut up)

Virgil sat up and splashed his face with icy water to cool his flushed cheeks. The cold stung his face. He winced and rubbed his cheeks only to find that water had frozen on it in droplets. Stupid bending, always acting out and being dramatic. He thawed it with a quick gesture and shook his head, letting the droplets fall away.

His hair usually hid his eyes, more so now that Thomas wouldn’t meet his gaze, so he didn’t have to worry about his eyes being puffy the next day. The blotchy face he could hide pretty well. But he would have to disguise his tiredness – if Roman knew that Virgil had been moving around at night he would be furious, maybe even take to not sleeping in order to ‘guard’ the others. And if Roman was tired, he would be off his game, and they would be more vulnerable to being captured, and if the Avatar was captured they were all screwed.

A crunch snapped him out of his spiraling thoughts and he whirled, hands flashing to his knives. The forest before him was dark and deep and full of shadows so thick he couldn’t see past the first few trees. Was there someone there? A scout? A fire nation soldier? Thieves? His breathing increased as the possibilities flashed through his mind, faster and faster. He had to get to the others, he had to protect them and make sure they were safe and-

A turtleduck waddled out into the open.

Virgil sagged in relief. Not dangerous then. He crouched down to watch the toddling creature slip into the brook and begin gliding with the flow of the water, followed by a v formation of clear ripples. Safe. Virgil took a few moments to lower his head and take deep breaths, trying to calm the frantic race of his heartbeat. When it had finally calmed down he rose and started making his way back through the trees.

Was it just him, or was it even quieter on the way back? The tinny chirp of insects had died away as if the creatures had been startled quiet by a bigger, or clumsier, presence. Virgil slipped a knife into his palm as he walked. It was too quiet. The burbling of the brook seemed obtrusively loud in the deafening silence.

A presence behind him.

Virgil whirled and brought his knife to the person’s throat.

The guy froze, and Virgil recognised him with a flash of clarity – he stuffed his knife back into its sheath and hissed, “What the hell, Princey? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

“I was about to ask you the same question.” Roman, having recovered quickly, growled. His hair was mussed up with sleep in a way the fire prince would never allow to see the light of day. “What are you doing?”

“Getting water.” Virgil said sharply, trying to hide the panic running through his mind. To an already paranoid guy, this must look very suspicious. “Is that a crime now?”

“It is when you sneak off in the middle of the night doing who-knows-what.” Roman retorted. Virgil tried to slam down his icy composure but the cold and the crying and the exhaustion wouldn’t be squashed down anymore – his already-red eyes prickled and he folded his arms and looked away to hide the new tears welling up.

“Sure, super scary. ‘Oh no, the big bad bending-stealer is staying hydrated! What else could he be capable of, maintaining basic hygiene?’ Shit, you’re right Princey, this kind of behaviour is unacceptable.”

He felt, more than saw, Roman swelling up with indignation. To be precise, he felt the heat waves radiating off the red-faced prince. Roman wouldn’t actually… burn him, right? The fire bender was hotheaded and currently hated Virgil’s guts, but surely he wouldn’t attack him. Even if he did, Patton and… well, at least Thomas would stand up for Virgil. Maybe? Unless he was angry at Virgil for upsetting his brother…

“How dare you mock me when I’m protecting my family!”

Virgil shook his head. “You know what? I’m out.” He stepped towards camp but Roman caught his wrist in a solid grip. Virgil jerked back with a hiss, unable to hide his flinch when Roman met his eyes. But Roman didn’t look as furious as he did a second ago. He was frowning, but he looked confused. Too late, Virgil realized his swollen red face was on display.

“Are you crying?”

“Shut up!” Virgil yanked him arm away, and Roman didn’t fight it as hard as he could. Of course he didn’t want to touch the big scary bending-stealer for longer than he had to. Virgil wiped his eyes fiercely and glared at the staring prince. “What the fuck are you looking at?”

“What’s wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with me? Let’s find out, shall we?” Virgil’s voice was rising in pitch, but he couldn’t bring it down. He didn’t want to bring it down. He buried his hands in his hair and pulled to feel something other than the boiling soup of misery and rage in his chest. “What’s wrong with me is that apparently I’m the fucking villain of this story! What’s wrong with me is that I’m so dangerous I can’t be trusted with the people whose lives I saved, because I’m so scary.”

Roman clenched his fists, but Virgil was not done. He stabbed a finger at Roman’s face and the fire prince had the nerve to flinch.

“I’m a threat to your new family?” Virgil’s voice dripped with cynicism. “Well, boo fucking hoo. You’re not the only one who lost your parents, Princey. At least you have a brother, and an uncle, and a partner, and friends, and I have-”

Virgil’s voice dissolved into a whisper. He wanted to keep shouting – his chest burned and he could finally yell and rage like he had been aching to for weeks, but… now there was only sorrow. It made him feel heavy. There was a weight on his back and Virgil’s shoulders curled in under its weight.

“Well, I thought I had a family.” He smiled bitterly at Roman. “I guess I don’t count. I wish you’d told me earlier how much everyone despised me. At least then it wouldn’t hurt so much.” Virgil laughed. “And here I thought you guys liked me.”

And now, now Roman looked uncomfortable. “Well, Patton-”

“Doesn’t stand up for me. Sits there and watches. And Thomas. And Logan. They don’t like me. I’m only still around because I’m useful. Because I was stupid enough to think I was wanted. Because stupid Virgil, scary Virgil, thought he was a part of the family, thought he was safe, WHAT AN IDIOT!” He was screaming now. He yanked at his hair so violently that he could hear a ripping sound, but the pain was good, it kept him grounded, kept his voice from dissolving. “JUST STUPID FUCKING VIRGIL!”

“Hey!” Roman was grabbing his wrists. “Stop it, you’re gonna hurt yourself!”

“WHY THE FUCK DO YOU CARE?”

Too much, too much, he was saying too much. He struggled to slam down a lid on his bubbling emotions. Roman’s fingers dug into his wrists, trying to pry them out of his hair. Broken strands tangled around Virgil’s fingers. Broken, snapped. He could barely feel the pain. Roman finally succeeded in wrenching Virgil’s hands away.

Stupid, stupid. Virgil snatched his hands from Roman’s grip and shoved them into his pockets, pointedly avoiding Roman’s wild gaze. He threw up his impassive wall hastily – though was there really much of a point anymore? Roman started to speak but Virgil cut over him, voice scratchy from screaming.

“I’m going to bed.”

Roman didn’t stop him from stalking back to the campsite and burying himself in his sleeping bag. Virgil couldn’t sleep that night – at times he drifted in and out of a restless doze, only to snap awake with a jolt from half-formed nightmares he couldn’t quite remember. Several times the next morning Roman looked to be on the verge of speaking, only to stop at the last second. Virgil was too tired and done to question him. He just wanted this day to be over so he could go to sleep and forget that this ever happened.

Of course, that was when Ruon-Jian decided to show up with his fleet, and things got a heck of a lot more complicated.

#writing #my writing #sanders sides #roman sanders #virgil sanders #fic #angst #hurt no comfort #tw self deprication #and just to be safe #tw self harm #not really but I don't want to accidentally trigger someone #avatar the last airbender #atla #crossover #teacupfulofstarshine #gift #the crossroad of our destinies

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Better Late Than Never

Characters: Steve Rogers x Stark!Reader, Tony Stark, Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff, Wanda Maximoff

Word Count: 2.4k 

Warnings: angst, fluff at the end, reunion

Request by anon: Hi there!! Just curious, would you ever make a one shot to the avengers reunion for your story pick a side?

Summary: After years apart from your dad, you come face to face with him. Will he hate you for leaving? Will he resent you even more? Or will he accept you back into his life?

sam’s wings for @star-spangled-bingo

tears of joy for @foundfamilybingo

Part One

Author’s Note: If you have any requests, please send them in! This is unbeta’d and any and all mistakes are all on me.

You’re good at your job, but you’re not that good. You take after your father--working on things building big projects, and always innovating new ideas. You’re not as good as he is, but you try to do your best. Sam managed to break his wings, so you tried fixing it on your own. He gave you enough time to come up with a plan and execute it, but as soon as that time was up, he needed to move on to someone slightly better than you.

After all, you have the Captain America serum in your body, so you’re more useful out in the field than behind a welding mask. Sam needed an expert to fix his wings, and you were slightly offended that it wasn’t going to be you. All he said is that he found someone to do the job, but he never said who. Even Steve, Wanda, and Natasha were very quiet about it, but you kind of brushed it off.

“Give me another chance, okay? I think I can fix it,” you beg Sam as you follow him around the Quinjet.

“Major, you’ve done enough,” he laughs.

“My name is Y/N,” you pout.

“You’re just below Cap. You’re Major.”

“Fine, but you need to give me another chance. I have a better understanding of it now!”

“No.”

You don’t take no for an answer and head over to his wings that are on the table in the middle of the jet. You whip off the blanket that is covering them only to have him drag it back on.

“Sam!”

“I said no. I found a guy.”

“Steve!”

“Y/N, I love you, but you’re a crappy welder and an even more crappy engineer.”

“Language,” you gasp teasingly, and he rolls his eyes slightly.

“We’re approaching our destination,” Natasha calls from the driver’s seat.

“Where are we going?” you ask and bounce to the window.

“Y/N, wait--”

Steve’s warning is cut off when you reach the window. The clouds clear to reveal the new Avengers facility that your dad had built in upstate New York. Your blood runs cold and you freeze in your spot at the thought of running into him. It’s been three years since you two last saw each other--after he made no moe to contact you. The last thing you heard from him was him accusing you of picking Steve’s side because you were “fucking” him.

He’s never made any effort to call you after you left with Steve.

“Y/N, we were going to tell you, but he’s the only one who can fix this,” Steve whispers.

You hear him, but your brain doesn’t register the words that are coming out of his mouth. All you can think about was the fight that happened at the airport in Germany. When you got in line with Steve and his team, your dad gave you the coldest look you’ve ever seen. He was so angry at you for not picking his side that he didn’t care why you did it or what you believed in. All he saw was betrayal, and all you saw was hatred and disappointment.

When the fight started, he tried his best not to fight you because even though he was mad, he didn’t know if he could hurt you. Then, the unthinkable happened. Steve and Bucky were racing to the jet to get to the place where the other winter soldiers were when you stood between them and your dad. He didn’t want to hurt you, but he couldn’t let them get away.

He ended up hurting you in more ways than just physical. Physically, you only had a bruised stomach and some cuts on your face. However, emotionally, there was a gaping hole left in your chest. Your dad saw the damage he did to you and he just left without another word or a glance in your direction. He just took off, and that was the last time you ever saw him.

The months rolled by, and you thought he was going to call you, but he never did. Those months turned to years, and you lost all hope of seeing your dad. It crossed your mind that you should be the one to go after him, but he hurt you a lot more than you hurt him. You couldn’t put yourself through that embarrassment and torture of seeing how you made him disappointed by coming back.

So, you never did.

Fighting with Steve made you happy--at least, that’s what you tell yourself. In reality, it provided you with a distraction long enough to keep thoughts of your dad out of your mind. Then, when the distraction subsided, Steve had already found another case to be on. It’s been a few years, and you’ve been everything related to misery. You miss him so much, but he clearly doesn’t miss you. So, seeing his new Avengers facility brought all those unwanted feelings back to the surface--the ones you tried so hard burying.

“You know, you could have told me,” you sigh and look away from the window.

“I didn’t know how.”

Steve thought about calling Tony plenty of times just to kick his ass into being with you, but he always thought twice about it. You were at a point in your life where you were almost at the peak of getting over it, so he couldn’t possibly let you bring all those feelings back into the light. You were just so sad and you cried almost every night for a long time because all you needed was your dad. He couldn’t give you the comfort you needed, and because there was a small possibility that Tony would reject you once again, he just couldn’t make that call. It breaks his heart to see you so sad.

When Sam’s wings broke, and no one in his group could fix them, he knew that it was time to go see Tony once again. There was no way you would be staying on your own, and he couldn’t think of a good enough reason to keep you away, so you joined them without a hint of where you were going. Ever since the big fight happened, they’ve all been looking at you like you’re going to explode at any given moment. They’ve been hovering to catch you despite you telling them that you’re okay.

But you’re not okay.

How can you just worry everyone like that when there is no fixing it? There is nothing they can do, so why bother them with it in the first place? Everything you’ve ever mashed down inside you started to inflate the minute the Quinjet landed. As soon as the doors opened, you became frozen where you stood. Natasha and Sam left the bird first with his wings in hand, leaving you, Steve, and Wanda left inside.

“I can take away your fear if you want me to,” Wanda whispers.

“No, it’s okay,” you whisper back. “Go on, I’ll be there in a minute.”

All you see is pity on her face, but she leaves your side nonetheless.

“Are you sure you can do this? You don’t have to go in there,” Steve supports.

“I do. He left, not me. I shouldn’t be scared to walk in there, he should be scared that I’m here. Does he know I’m coming?”

“No, I didn’t tell him. I was afraid he would say no to fixing Sam’s wings. Listen, he sounded pretty miserable on the phone. I think he’ll be happy to see you.”

“He was so mad at me,” you remember your last conversation that actually mattered, “like he couldn’t fathom the thought that I would pick your side over his. I just did what I thought was right—I still think that. He always taught me to stand up for what I believe in, and I did just that. I’m just scared he’ll hate me all over again. I don’t think I’ll survive that again.”

“Then stay in here. We’ll be in and out. I promise.”

“I’m sorry,” you sigh sadly.

You look down at the ground just as two tears left your eyes. Steve looks at you, and he just cups your chin with two fingers and lifts your head so you’re staring at him. He wipes the tears away with his thumbs as gently as he can.

“Don’t be. You’re not ready. That’s okay. I have to go inside now, but I promise we will be back before you know it.”

He leans down and kisses you tenderly, keeping it short. The feel of his lips on yours help keep you grounded, and you hold onto that comfort even when he pulls away from you. You keep your eyes closed for a few more minutes as if it would shield you from the fear. If you can’t see your dad’s place, then you’re not really there. However, just as soon as you open them, you miss the comfort from Steve immediately.

Why should you be the one who fears this place? It should be your dad that fears you coming here. He was the one who broke things off with you, so why do you feel like it’s your fault? You’re his daughter, and he is supposed to treat you as such. You’re not one of his friends that pissed him off--he doesn’t get to cut you out of his life like you mean nothing. You’re his fucking daughter; he is supposed to love you no matter what. It’s what a parent does for their children. Yeah, they are supposed to make you mad and get on your nerves, but you don’t get to cut them out of your life like that.

Why should you just stand here while everyone else gets to be inside? Maybe seeing your dad’s new place is giving you the courage you never had. It’s giving you a sense of what’s right and wrong in this situation. Fuck this, you’re not going to wait out here like some scared little girl afraid she is going to get grounded by her dad. You’re an adult, so he can’t punish you anymore--not like this.

You leave the Quinjet and head inside the place, impressed how it turned out. Your dad is an arrogant ass sometimes, but he sure doesn’t know how to build a beautiful building. Jarvis is no longer with your dad, so he had a new system put in place: Friday. The only thing different about her is that she has an Irish accent while Jarvis had a British one. Since your face is known on every server that your dad has, Friday doesn’t announce your presence. Jarvis did that with strangers, and you think that it’s the same thing with Friday.

This place is huge on the inside as much as it is on the outside, but you don’t have any trouble going where you need to go. The main room is close to the entrance of the place, so just as soon as you enter, you hear everyone’s voice come from the room. Despite being angry and pissed at your dad for treating you this way, there is something inside of you--no matter how small--that tells you he is going to hate you when he sees you.

You freeze right before you can turn the corner. The doors are open, so you can hear everything clearly, but you’re completely out of sight. Will he stare at you with disgust and disappointment? Will he yell? Throw you out? Tell you that he never wants to see you again?

“Thanks for doing this, Tony,” Steve says as Sam hands over his wings to the billionaire.

“First time you called in, what, years, and this is what you asked me?” Tony says and glances at Steve.

He noticed immediately that you weren't in the room.

“Is it safe to come home yet?”

“No.”

“Then, yes, it’s what I asked you to do.”

“Where is she?” your dad asks as he inspects the wings.

“Do you care?”

“Do I care? Of course I fucking care, Rogers. How can you ask that?” your dad hisses.

“You haven’t called in, what, years?” Steve throws that comment back in your dad’s face.

“Is she at least here?”

“I’m not going to answer that. What needs to be done is fixing these wings so we can be on our way.”

Tony looks at everyone’s faces and knows immediately what they are saying. You are here, probably on the Quinjet that just flew in, and there is a reason why you’re not coming in. He really fucked up big time. All Tony has ever done for the past few years is regret yelling at you in the first place. All he wants now is his daughter, and you can’t even come inside.

“I’m right here,” you say and reveal yourself.

Hearing your dad ask those questions pushed the doubt to the back of your mind and brought back the courage. Every single person turned to look at you, but you’re only looking at your dad. He seems frozen where he stands, unable to do anything but just look at you. You’re really here no thanks to him. He grips Sam’s wings tightly in his hands, wincing when one of the parts dig into his palm. Feeling that pain brings him back to reality.

He sets the wings on the table right in front of him before marching over to you. You honestly think he is going to yell at you or do something mean, but instead, he just brings you into a tight hug. Your arms immediately wrap around his neck, and you find yourself sinking into his body.

“I missed you so fucing much,” your dad says emotionally.

“I’m so sorry,” you cry into his neck.

He pulls away and makes sure you’re staring into his eyes when he speaks.

“No, you don’t get to be sorry. I’m the one who should be sorry. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have yelled at you or made you feel like what you did was wrong. I’m the one who fucked up. You’re my daughter, and I shouldn’t have ever let you go.”

He brings you back into a hug, and you squeeze him tightly to remind yourself that this is really happening. You look at Steve from over your dad’s shoulder, and he smiles proudly because this is the moment he has been waiting for. This is the moment that should have happened years ago. Well, better late than never is what everyone always says.

You and your dad have grown separately, but it’s time you grow together. You’ve lost precious years without him, and you’re not going to waste another over something stupid like last time.

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[officialotakudome]

New Post has been published on Otaku Dome | The Latest News In Anime, Manga, Gaming, Tech, and Geek Culture

New Post has been published on https://otakudome.com/aew-rampage-was-a-rare-pro-wrestling-surprise/

AEW Rampage Was a Rare Pro Wrestling Surprise

AEW made it’s formal conception on January 1, 2019 and has since been making a number of accomplishments since. Including sold out shows, record merch sales, signing major stars, and  breaking one million viewers semi-regularly just to name a few. As we come to closing out the year AEW is looking to continue the highs they’ve been receiving in 2021 with the debut of their second televised program AEW Rampage. An hour series that will act as an equal to it’s sister program AEW Dynamite. And with the show they put on for night one that promise has so far already been kept.

AEW Rampage is a 2021 pro wrestling series produced by AEW & WarnerMedia. It currently airs Fridays at 9:00 AM Central on TNT. 

Editor’s Note: Spoilers for the debut episode of AEW Rampage and potential spoilers for the second episode may be present within this review.

AEW Rampage opened with an amazing match and a shock finish.

Kenny Omega (c) vs Christian Cage for the Impact World Championship:

In the opening (and first ever) contest of AEW Rampage, AEW featured a historic moment in which the Impact World Championship was defended for the very first time on another national wrestling promotion’s television program. AEW, Impact, and AAA World Champion Kenny Omega defended against challenger Christian Cage in a bit of a preview to their upcoming All Out main event match for the AEW World Championship. First just wanted to point out that the Pittsburg crowd was HOT for this show from start to finish. It really goes to show that if you give your audience a bit of respect they often respond in kind. Which is a polar opposite to a lot of WWE crowds who often attack the shows with obnoxious chants such as “What!?” & “CM PUNK!”. But WWE often shows little respect to their audience so it can be a bit forgiven.

Omega and Cage are both rather high level in-ring performers, especially the latter at age 47. AEW typically has their best matches open and close their shows and this philosophy continued on the debut of Rampage. Most of the offense surprisingly came from Christian who was really showing out against Omega who was mainly selling everything. At one point in the match Christian hit Omega with a Spear and had a cool near fall. Finish saw the Young Bucks coming out while Don distracted a ref and they handed Kenny a chair. As Omega was preparing for the One-Winged Angel, Christian turned the tides with a Killswitch on the very chair Omega had prepared for a three count. Omega sold the Killswitch like he was shot and Jungle Boy & Luchasaurus join Cage for the post-match celebration.

Winner AND NEW Impact World Champion Christian Cage: **** 1/2 stars

Beloved jobber Fuego del Sol gained a life changing victory in defeat.

Following the commercial break with get Mark Henry interviewing Cage with Jungle Boy & Luchasaurus having A Little Bit of the Bubbly. Cage said Kenny caused him to bring everything he had and felt he wasn’t going to win. He then states that if he gave him so much trouble for the Impact title it’ll be next to impossible for him to win the AEW title, but the victory has Cage in Omega’s head. Next match is God’s Favorite Champion Miro taking on everybody’s favorite jobber Fuego del Sol for the TNT Championship. If Sol wins he’ll be signed to an AEW contract.

Fuego del Sol vs Miro (c) for the TNT Championship:

If you’re even remotely apart of AEW’s social media circles you’ve probably heard of the rise of Fuego del Sol fka Kage. Sol began wrestling in a trampoline fed on Youtube prior to pursing his dreams on the independent circuit. Fuego; real life best friend of rising AEW star Sammy Guevara found his way to the promotion through recommendation working AEW Dark during their stay at Daily’s Place during the pandemic. Fuego also had a starring role in Guevara’s vlog entitled “Sammy’s Vlog” in which he films & documents his & his friends & co-workers’ real lives and careers as a professional wrestlers. Fuego became a fan-favorite due to his likable personality and optimism. AEW took notice of Fuego’s skyrocketing popularity and often had him featured on Dark and occasionally on flagship series Dynamite. The running gag of Sammy’s Vlog was Fuego’s real-life quest for a contract despite his losing streak and the fact that he also worked at Burger King to support his family while on PPA (pay per appearances) bookings with AEW.

Sammy stated many times that the goal of his vlog was to help his friends and guests to establish a gimmick, place to explore personality, and an opportunity to reach an audience basically to help wrestlers get over. And it’s kind of poetic that Fuego is one of the first to truly accomplish those goals. Fuego is now a hit on social media with many of his tweets gaining five digit numbers in likes something that’s rather unheard of from someone who’s had no real presence in the WWE. Now that we’ve gotten to the background of Fuego and the importance of this storyline (apologies for being so long winded about it) we can move on to the match itself. 

This was more or less a squash match, but the point was to get Fuego over in front of a big crowd. As the match began Fuego showed his bravery by hitting Miro with a variation of the Tornado DDT his finishing move of which he is the master. Fuego goes for a pin but only got a one count, he follows up with a second Tornado DDT as the crowd goes ballistic in cheers and Miro wisely rolls out of the ring. Commentary reminds people at home that if Fuego wins via count out he may not win the title but he will in fact still win the AEW contract. Miro unfortunately gets back into the ring at nine only to be hit with THIRD Tornado DDT at this stage the crowd is all over Fuego. He goes for a pin, but gets a very close near fall. As Miro recovers he nails Fuego with the Bulgarian Drop & Thrust Kick followed by the Game Over submission for the win.

Winner and still AEW TNT Champion Miro: *** stars

AEW Women’s World Champion returned to Brittsburg in the main event.

Miro celebrates and rips the contract as we head to commercial. Returning from the break Fuego recovers from his heartbreaking loss as the Pittsburg crowd gives him a standing ovation for his efforts. Commentary is selling the idea that this is Fuego’s final official appearance in AEW as they’re back on a touring schedule. Suddenly, Sammy Guevara’s music hits and he appears (briefly) with Tony Khan who hands him a mic and clipboard. Sammy tells Fuego that despite losing he may have still won. Reminding him of his disappointing win-loss record, he tells him it doesn’t matter as the fans and the wrestlers in the back all love him. Realizing what’s about to go down Fuego starts ugly crying as Sammy tells Fuego that Tony Khan wanted himself as his best friend to inform him that as of tonight he is officially All Elite and the crowd goes nuts. In an interview with Sports Illustrated Tony Khan stated that this was 100% shoot and that only Sammy knew Fuego was getting signed regardless of his loss. If you’ve followed Fuego’s journey from the beginning or middle where he made his AEW it really shows that anyone can get themselves over if they work hard enough and have the right platform. Contrastingly, in WWE if you get over without being their chosen guy or gal you’re punished for it being viewed as “having gone into business for yourself”. A testament to this is the infamous rise of Matt Cardona fka Zach Ryder who rose to fame with his “Z! True Long Island Story” Youtube series and had a fundamental role in teaching pro wrestlers to use the internet and social media to work for themselves to get over and would go on to inspire shows such as BTE (Being the Elite) & Sammy’s Vlog.

Cardona would regularly embarrassed and buried on WWE TV after a pity run with the WWE United States Championship rarely finding success beyond point for the remainder of his run in the promotion. Reports stated that morale among talent hit a record low, Cardona’s best friend Impact Wrestling star Brian Myers was also quoted as saying WWE “would hold “brass ring” pep talks every WrestleMania that suddenly stopped once Cardona got over”. So in short, unless you’re their flavor of the week/month/year WWE won’t take it kindly if you work hard and gain a following without their say. Whereas AEW (and virtually every other promotion ever) will do the compete opposite and show support, but enough of the rant it’s time for the main event.

Red Velvet vs Dr. Britt Baker D.M.D for the AEW Women’s World Championship:

Fuego wasn’t the only new signee of the night.

As the match starts Velvet is understandingly thrown off by the boos. More confusingly Velvet is working as a babyface for much of the match, rectifies this when she begins working Britt’s wrist. Obviously, Britt is the heel, but for the sake if the circumstances I’m glad Velvet played into being the baddie for the night. Also can I just say how crazy it’s been seeing Red Velvet grow as an in ring performer? I’ve seen her since her debut on Dark and basically followed through since her debut on Dynamite with Cody against Jade Cargill and Shaq. She’s still fairly fresh and young as a worker, but has really shown off her potential especially here. Lots of back and forth offense from Britt and Red. The finish saw Britt attempting the Lockjaw with the hurt wrist, but once Velvet escapes she brilliantly reverses it with her opposite arm for the submission. 

Winner and still AEW Women’s World Champion Britt Baker: **** stars

While Britt celebrates she beats down Velvet who comes back only to be beat down again by the returning Jamie Hayter with a new look. Hayter had a bit run on AEW Dark & NXT UK prior to her return as a full-time AEW talent. Britt had been hinting that she was opening up a bodyguard position and Hayter will fit that role moving forward. AEW Rampage’s debut was an extremely strong show with fantastic matches and excellent storytelling. This Friday is surprisingly going to be even more important, as unless you’ve been living under a rock “The First Dance” in the United Center will be the host of the long-awaited return of CM Punk to pro wrestling and not as an analyst as an in-ring talent. AEW and Punk himself are barely trying to throw fans off of what is undoubtedly going to be a legendary moment for them in their short time alive. 2021 has been very good to AEW and pro wrestling as a whole and it’s not slowing down anytime soon. AEW gives AEW Rampage’s debut episode an 80 out of 100.