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perlelune · 6 months

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no body, no crime | Coriolanus Snow | ii.

Your childhood friend returns from his exile in district 12, but he's not the sweet, quiet boy you once knew anymore.

Warnings: NON-CON, Plinth!Reader, Gaslighting, Drugging, Murder, Forced Marriage, Forced Pregnancy, Loss of Virginity, Somnophilia

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

Astonishment widens your gaze when you find your mother sitting on your bed when you go back upstairs. Her hands are twitching in her lap and she makes a beeline to you when she sees you.

“So, how did it go?” she asks, urgency laced in her tone.

Your brows knit. “It went fine. Why do you even care, mother?”

“Coriolanus will be a good friend to have in the future,” she says, her hands seizing yours for emphasis.

“A good friend?”

Your mother rolls her eyes. She then tugs you by the hand and takes you to your bed so you can both sit on it. The mattress dips with both your weights.

“Don’t you know, sweetie? How well his tribute did in the last Hunger Games? That Lucy Gray girl-”

“You know I don’t like to watch it,” you underscore, your frown accentuating. You don’t know why anyone would willingly tune in to this butchery and call it entertainment.

Her hold on your hand grows tighter. “You need to grow up. You’re not a child anymore.”

You tamp down your hurt at her criticism.

She licks her lips and continues, “And it’s not just that. He’s on the fast track to becoming top student at the University, he’s Volumnia Gaul’s apprentice and he’s even got sway with-”

“What does any of it have to do with me, mother?” you interrupt, your well of patience running dry as she keeps singing the young man’s praises. It’s not like you’re not aware of Coriolanus’ accomplishments. He’s ambitious and clever. It was always obvious he’d get far in life. But clearly your mother’s trying to make a point and you’d like for her to stop beating around the bush and just spill it.

“He likes you.”

“I like him too,” you reply with a shrug.

She tilts her head, her interest seeming piqued. “Do you really?”

“Yes, I’m glad we can be friends again.”

“Friends is a good start. Your father and I started as friends…”

You draw your hands back, standing up in shock at her implication. Outrage blooms inside you. This is just like Demetria Plinth. While you’re aware your mother doesn’t approve of your current match, you never thought she’d be so devious.

“I’m engaged, mother.”

She sighs as she stands up too. Disappointment paints her features.

“I know, I know. And William’s a sweet boy but-”

“But what?”

She tilts your chin up. “What kind of future do you think you’ll have with him, hm?”

“One full of happiness and love,” you defend hotly.

She bursts out a chuckle. “Love and happiness do not provide food or shelter. But a match to a promising young man from a great house would-”

You cut her off again, peeved at her repeated ignorance of your wishes, “Like I said, we’re friends, mother, nothing else. I’m getting married in three weeks, whether you and Dad like it or not.”

Her lips clamp shut as she steps back from you.

“And you have made that exceedingly clear, how little you cared for our opinion…”

“It’s not that, I just wished-”

She waves a dismissive hand in the air. “It’s no matter. Just promise me one thing?”²

“What thing?” you ask, suspicion clear in your voice.

“Keep him close,” she says, her eyes softening. “Can you at least do that for us, sweetheart?”

“I’ll try.”

“I’m being serious,” she emphasizes. “After your brother…” Her voice breaks at the mention of her son. Tears start to press behind your eyes at the sight of her grief-stricken expression. “We can’t afford any misstep. Do you understand?”

You don’t have it in you to fight her anymore, not when she’s like this. So you wrap your arms around her, giving her a tight hug. “I understand,” you reply, rubbing her back as she weeps in silence.

Naturally, your own tears follow suit. Whenever your mother cries, it's never too long before you start crying as well.

You may not go as far in your relationship with Coriolanus as your mother wants you to, but you can at least keep him in your life. And based on your encounter this afternoon, it will not be hard. You want him in your life. You missed him.

You just hope your mother learns to accept that you and Coriolanus will never be more than friends.

God, you despise these events. You peer at your lavish surroundings once again. They certainly didn’t spare any expense, and this includes your father. Every inch of the palatial room screams wealth, from the champagne tower, to the elaborate sculptures and gold accents from floor to ceiling.

Internally, you wince. This is the kind of futile displays of privilege the Capitol likes to indulge in. A waste of resources when people in the Districts are starving.

You bet if Sejanus were here, he’d feel the same.

Sipping lightly from your glass of posca, you nod along at the man who speaks to you. It’s been almost an hour and he hasn’t realized you haven’t uttered a single word. You wonder if he even cares. Gauis Creed, Festus Creed’s father, is the kind of man who basks in the sound of his own voice more than anyone else’s.

Eventually, you excuse yourself, pretending you’re tired and need to sit.

William follows you as you go find your father’s table.

You unleash a sigh as you plop down on one of the velvet chairs around the table. An Avox approaches you, plate of appetizers in hand, and offers you one. You refuse with a smile, your heart twisting as you meet their gaze.

William’s hand folds over yours.

“You’re okay, baby?” he asks, concern swimming in his green eyes.

“I’m fine. These things are just so exhausting.”

His thumb sweeps over your knuckles as he smiles at you. “We just need to stay long enough to be polite.”

“I know.”

William suddenly straightens his spine, his attention traveling above your head. You pivot in your seat to see what caught his eye.

Your breath hitches at the sight of Coriolanus. He smoothly walks into the room, locking arms with his cousin Tigris. His stylish crimson fit, a two piece suit with a white rose pinned to his breast pocket, highlights his good looks. His blonde locks are slicked back in that formal way you’ve seen him sport since he came back. He wears it well. It makes him look older, wiser.

He radiates confidence and you don’t miss the looks that trail him as he enters. The young heir of House Snow is making quite an impression.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” William inquires, smoothing the wrinkles in his suit and rearranging his lapels.

“Yeah, that’s him,” you reply, placing a hand on his arm in reassurance.

But your fiancé’s eyes don’t stray from Coryo. A frown mars his brow.

“Who’s the woman with him?”

“That’s Tigris, his cousin.”

Striking blue eyes slam into yours, making your heart skip a beat. You watch as the blonde whispers something to Clemensia Dovecote before weaving his way through the crowd.

“He’s making his way to us,” William says.

Frozen in your seat, you nod dumbly.

He glides in your direction, each of his steps graceful and determined. Not once does Coriolanus’ cobalt gaze strays from yours.

“You came,” you say when he’s in front of you.

He plucks your hand from your lap and drops an ephemeral, soft kiss on it. When he lets go of your hand, the feel of his lips linger, making your flesh tingle. You confine a gasp, your face warming. The move surprises you coming from Coriolanus. He knows etiquette better than anyone else. Doing this in front of your fiancé could be perceived as provocation.

You’re sure he didn’t mean it that way, being naturally suave and charming, but you wish he’d tone it down tonight to not give William the wrong impression.

“I made a promise to a pretty girl, so I had to,” he rasps, honey dripping in his deep timbre.

Part of you melts. Ten years ago, you’d have done anything for Coryo to notice you, let alone whisper words such as these to you.

You collect yourself, giving a nod as you rise from your seat.

You beam at his cousin. As always, she looks stunning. Tonight she wears a tight, scarlet dress that compliments her slender frame.

“Tigris, it’s been a while,” you chime.

“Too long,” she replies before hugging you.

You return the gesture. Tigris was always sweet to you. While you never went to school together as she’s three years older than you and Janus, there were many times she’d admonish children who pestered you. You remember wanting to be like her when you were younger, a poised, beautiful Capitol lady that’d make your parents proud.

It was before you realized how vapid most citizens of the Capitol are, that none of them care about anything that matters. Still, Tigris remains one of the kindest people you’ve ever encountered.

“You’ve grown into a gorgeous young woman,” she praises.

Despite you, a sliver of pride flutters inside you at her compliment.

The reunion is interrupted when your parents arrive.

As you expect, they barely acknowledge William, but they grin from ear to ear when addressing Coriolanus.

“You clean up nicely, young man,” Strabo lauds.

Your mother doles out similar praise, asking him where he got his shirt from.

“Shall we sit?” your dad adds.

“Oh, may we?”

“Don’t be silly. We made sure there’d be room for both of you.”

So that’s who the extra chairs were for. You wondered before. You suppose it makes sense now.

Everyone sits and food is brought to the table.

The tantalizing spread of meat and vegetables doesn’t entice you despite its artistic arrangement. Still, you dutifully gulp bite after bite, aware people in the districts are starving while you get to enjoy a fancy meal. You shouldn’t waste any of it.

The whole time, you try your best to ignore the way Coriolanus’ arm keeps grazing yours as he talks.

You stay quiet as the Snow cousins and your parents drone on about clothes and other frivolous matters.

When the conversation begins to veer to more serious topics however, your ears perk.

“...And we’ve been trying to raise the viewership for the next Hunger Games through-”

“Well, maybe if it wasn’t about sponsoring the murder of children, it’d be easier,” William notes, cutting your father off mid-sentence.

Quiet falls over the table. Strabo’s jaw ticks while he glares angrily at your fiancé. Your mother shakes her head and tosses you a look of disapproval.

She doesn’t have to utter a single word for you to hear her thoughts loud and clear. They’re plainly written all over her face.

As for you, pride and love glow inside you as you twine your fingers with William’s.

Once again, he makes you feel like you’re not the mad one in this mad world.

“What do you think?”

Coriolanus’s abrupt question has you choking on your spoonful.

You cough and dab your mouth with a napkin, embarrassment swirling in your gut.

Beneath his intense stare, you quickly try to gather your words.

“Me? I…There has to be another way to discourage rebellions, a more humane way. Wouldn’t you agree?”

A tender smile unfurls on his lips. “You’re sweet.”

The symphonic orchestra on stage starts playing music. Some of the guests start joining the dancefloor, waltzing along to the melancholy tune.

Coriolanus suddenly gets to his feet and steals your hand.

“Do you mind?” he tells William while tugging you out of your chair.

“I…” your fiancé begins. But Coriolanus drags you to the dancefloor, not waiting for his response.

Too dumbstruck to utter a word yourself, you let him.

He slips his arm around your waist and sways to the music. You follow his lead, trying to discard how unnerving the proximity is. The faint scent of roses coats your senses, rendering you a bit dizzy. It reminds you of your garden.

“He speaks like a rebel,” he says.

You stiffen. “He speaks the truth, and he isn’t afraid to do it. It’s what I love about him.”

Coriolanus scrutinizes you, his blank expression impossible to read. You gasp when he spins you. He then pulls your back flush against his broad chest. Your heart hammers wildly and you find yourself praying he doesn’t hear it.

His soft whisper fans over your ear. “He’ll get you in trouble.”

“Maybe I like trouble,” you reply.

His deep chuckle ripples along your neck. “Hm, do you, princess?”

Your throat goes dry. You pivot in your heels so you aren’t so close, remembering that William is a few feet away watching.

Your cheeks burn.

“Coryo,” you mumble, lifting your head to meet his gaze.

“Yes?”

“You’ve changed, you know.”

“Hm, maybe it’s my hair. I’m trying to grow it out again.”

You shake your head.

“It’s not that. You’re just…a bit different.”

You don’t remember him ever being so bold and…so many other things you can’t place. You simply know that the longer you are in his presence, the longer it feels as if you’ll tumble into an abyss, one you won’t so easily climb your way out of.

He slants his head.

“Good different or bad different?”

You shrug and smile.

“I guess we’ll have to see.”

The gala leaves you rattled, hesitant to speak to Coriolanus for a few days. You know he’s not to blame for your parents’ behavior, but he didn’t exactly help matters with everything he did that night. Your mother for instance couldn’t stop raving about it on the way back home. You were grateful William wasn’t there to hear it. He’s worked hard to obtain your parents’ approval, even pretending to be someone he wasn’t at first just to impress them. But nothing he’s done ever worked. By mere virtue of his birth, the match is ill-fated in your parents’ eyes.

Maybe distance with the blond is what is best. Once you and William are married, they’ll have no choice but to accept it after all. It’ll be done and there’ll be nothing else for them to say.

“Your mother said I could find you here.”

Startled, you nearly drop your embroidery hoop.

Your head snaps up.

You’re welcomed by the sight of Coriolanus’ towering frame darkening the entrance of the sunroom, sporting a white shirt and a long black coat.

“Are you upset?” he asks, heading towards you.

His bluntness, coupled with his unexpected presence, snatches the words from your tongue for a few minutes.

You blink and frown, focusing on driving the needle through the cotton fabric.

“Upset, why would I be upset?” you evasively reply.

“The gala…” His voice is closer now, the smell of roses floating around you.

You dip your head and examine your needlework. You frown. It’s a bit crooked. The stitches aren’t as tight as they should be, making the petals you were sewing appear misshapen.

“You’ve also been avoiding me,” he adds. Your breath catches as you realize he’s sitting next to you now. “You leave right after every class.”

It’s true that even at the University you’ve made yourself more scarce. You didn’t expect him to notice. But you surmise nothing ever escapes Coriolanus Snow’s sharp senses. As long as you’ve known him, he’s been this way. He’d let the tiniest, most insignificant problem corral his entire attention until he solved it.

“I haven’t,” you mutter, shrugging. “I’m not upset, Coryo.”

“So why won’t you look at me?” You squeeze your mouth shut, sewing as if your life depended on it.

“Look at me, princess,” he repeats, his hand finding your chin to force your gazes to meet. Your nerves thrum as he gauges you.

“I’m looking at you,” you whisper.

The blond’s forehead creases. His deep timbre softens while he explains, “I just want to be here for you, take care of you. That’s all. It’s just that…” He releases your face, his shoulders sagging. “Nevermind.”

“Tell me,” you insist, now eager to know what words were about to cross his lips.

It’s his turn to dodge your eyes now. “I probably shouldn’t.”

Your frustration hits its crest.

“Now I want to know even more.”

Coriolanus studies you for a while before a long, weary sigh drops from his chest.

“It’s what Sejanus wanted,” he confesses, his soft inflection wavering.

You exhale sharply. “What?”

His throat bobs, emotions storming his blue eyes as they turn glassy with unshed tears.

“It’s almost like he knew, like he could feel it coming, you know?” Coriolanus pauses as if to gather himself. “He said ‘take care of her for me, please.’ He even had tears in his eyes.”

The hoop slips from your grasp as you gape at him in shock. Your voice comes out a watery quaver, tears welling in your eyes too.

“Did he really say that?”

“He did,” he confirms with a nod. A lone tear travels down his cheek. “I keep wishing I could have saved him, you know?”

He sounds disgusted with himself and your heart wrenches. It’s not like Coriolanus had anything to do with your brother’s death and could have prevented it. It saddens you that he feels the need to carry a burden that isn’t his own. All he did was be a friend to Sejanus. The picture of the two of them Janus carried proves it.

Without thought, your hand reaches his.

“This isn’t your fault. None of it is.”

His fingers curl around yours.

“I just want to honor your brother’s last wishes. He was my best friend.” His thumb caresses the back of your hand. “And I know I can never replace him but…let me be here for you, okay?”

You chuckle through the blurry veil of your tears. You can’t believe Coryo carried this weight with him all along. You wish he’d told you earlier.

He simply wanted to be here for you. You’re both grieving your brother’s death, after all. Guilt trickles within you for even doubting him.

“Of course,” you reply, giving a tearful smile.

His hands rise to cup your face. He gingerly wipes your tears as you sniffle.

His face comes alight with a broad, tight-lipped smile.

“I’m very glad to hear that, princess.”

#dark!coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas fanfiction #hunger games #coriolanus x reader

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hells-wasabii · 3 months

Note

IM HERE IN HERE IM HERE TAKE NE PLEASE PLEASE ALASTOR X WIFE READER WHO ALWAYS FOLLOWING ALASTOR LIKE A LOST PUPPY AND DEFENDS HIM ALOT BASICALLY SHE LOVES LIKE A DOG(P.S. SHE HAS A ABILITY TO GIVE HER HUSBAND A POWER UP AND MAKE HIM STRONGER)

A/N: This was another of the ones I misread and wrote half of a set of headcanons for an actual dog demon reader, it’s okay though because now there’s extra content for Alastor but in the mean time enjoy, or don’t, up to you

Character: Alastor

Type: Headcanons (Alastor x wife!reader with a power up ability, Fluff)

When you had told him that you would follow him to the depths of hell and back, Alastor had thought you were simply exaggerating. Well, you sure showed him when you showed up in hell not long after him. When you had exchanged your vows, you had truly meant it when you had said that even in death you would remain by his side.

He was certainly surprised to see you when you finally did show up. He had half expected you to be in heaven if you didn’t help him with his serial killings. The thing is though, is that you had been. Alastor was smart, that much was fact, he easily could have gotten away with his crimes, but even he was not perfect. No, whether he realized it or not, you had a hand in his crimes, giving him alibi should he need one, you helped him not get caught.

This translated well into your own abilities in hell. (small side note, because of the mutualistic relationship, you could potentially have a bird-like appearance or attributes. Kind of feeding into the fact that he’s a deer. Ya know, science and nature and stuff.) Your actions in life had given you a power-boosting ability, one that while it could be used with other inhabitants of hell, works best with Alastor.

Imagine the radio demon's surprise when suddenly one of his attacks absolutely obliterates an enemy. How… interesting? He had been sure that he hadn’t used that much power, careful not to expend all of his energy on such a lowly foe. But when he turns to see you close by, reaching towards him, the gears in his head start turning

That’s how you came to be in his fights as well. Before he had thought that the notion was foolish, but now, he wasn’t so sure. Even when you didn’t have your boosting ability activated, he found himself fighting harder to keep you from being injured in battle. He couldn’t have his darling wife getting hurt on his watch after all.

You were constantly by his side, your loyalty to your husband unwavering even in the face of death and destruction. Honestly, some would even go as far as to compare such loyalty to that of a dog. Alastor would likely take this as an insult, being quick to silence those who dare to insult his wife.

That’s not to say that he doesn’t see the resemblance, however. He doesn’t necessarily mind it, either, should you hang around, or in some cases, on him. You’re one of the very few whom he doesn’t mind the contact. He might even venture to say that he even enjoys it! You are his wife after all.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin imagine #hazbin headcanons #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor headcanons #alastor imagine #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader

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wkemeup · 1 year

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The Bet

summary: The agents at SHIELD have not taken well to Bucky’s pardon. When he’s injured on a mission under suspicious circumstances, you take matters into your own hands.

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 7.7k

warnings: canon level violence, bucky’s internalized self-punishing issues, shield agents being real pieces of shit, badass reader who would defend bucky to the death

a/n: I know I’ve been really inactive lately (life’s actually been going well so I’ve been busier but that leaves me less time to write unfortunately), but I’m still lurking here! This is a fic I wrote several months ago but finally got around to editing it. Hope you enjoy!

Bucky wasn’t sure how you managed it – the punch to his gut every time you walked in the room. You were dressed in your tactical suit; black fabric draped over every inch of your body, protective layers of Kevlar and technology beyond Bucky’s years, a weapon strapped to your thigh and knives hidden in your belt and at your ankle. Your hair was tugged out of place, sweat beaded on your temple from the sparring match in the gym moments before the two of you were called to service. In your right hand, you carried your combat boots, the laces hanging low enough to touch the ground.

And still, Bucky held his breath as you approached. Stomach in knots, chest tightening until his heart threatened to stop entirely.

“My offer is fifty this time,” you announced, winking in his direction before you turned to head for the landing bay. “Take it or leave it, Barnes.”

It was a game you’d been playing since your first mission together. A running bet to determine the better combat fighter. You’d insisted on measuring it not by the number of Hydra agents taken down or the bullets left in the magazine at the end of the mission, but by who walked away with the least damage on their body. A competition in the lack of scars.

He suspected it was your effort to distract him, to center his mind on something other than the crushing weight on his chest as he stepped into yet another Hydra stronghold. With his pardon only coming through the official channels three months prior and the nightly news still debating whether he should be locked in a psychiatric hospital or executed for his crimes, Bucky didn’t mind a little distraction.

He wasn’t sure what to make of you at first – this woman who cared so little for the eggshells scattered around his wake. Thin, broken pieces shattered under your steps, sharp edges digging into the soles of your feet and you did not flinch. You never hesitated in your teasing, never withdrew a cautious touch from the hardened steel of his left arm, never treated him as though he were fragile or unhinged. Instead, you placed bets on the outcomes of your shared missions as if his lethality was something to respect, to admire.

Part of him wondered whether it was your attempt to keep him unharmed. The winner would have the least number of cuts and bruises – the least physical pain endured. Bucky had no problem using his body as the weapon it was designed to be, even if it meant being reckless in his own skin. It was what he’d been trained to do for decades; constantly reminded that his body was not his own to command, not his own to protect and shield. The mission came first. The mission always came first. Above his safety. Above his comfort. Above his sanity. Hydra cared little for how damaged he walked away from a fight as long as he did as he was ordered. But not you.

No, you never could seem to hide the subtle twitch of relief as he won bet after bet. How your shoulders seemed to lose the tension aching in your muscles as you handed over the winnings he did not want. Because it meant you’d lost – that you’d been injured more than he had – and Bucky wanted no part in celebrating such a win.

“I don’t want your money, Y/n,” Bucky said as he did before each mission. He fell in line beside you as rookies parted down the hallway with each approaching step. Most kept their head down, eyes averted. But not all. Some openly stared at him as if they might bore holes into his tactical suit.

“Who says I’m paying you shit?” you scoffed, a smirk edging at the corner of your mouth. “Fifty, Barnes. You on or what?”

Bucky chuckled. “Yeah, fine. I’m in.”

You walked with a slight bounce in your step after he agreed and Bucky could not stop the smile as it tugged on his cheeks.

By the time you reached the quinjet, the team of agents was huddled in the loading dock awaiting orders. Steve stood with a hand leaning against the pilot’s chair, the other hooked on the font of his belt. The rest of the team – a group of highly trained SHIELD agents dressed in full combat gear tensed as Bucky followed you onto the jet.

“Thanks for joining us,” Steve welcomed sarcastically though there was humor in his grin. You rolled your eyes and held up your unlaced boots as if that would be answer enough that you were caught off guard for the unplanned mission.

“Not all of us wait eagerly outside Fury’s door for scraps of adrenaline,” you teased and tossed a wink over your shoulder at Bucky.

Steve bit his tongue to hold back a laugh. He turned to one of the agents lingering by the cockpit. “Get us in the air.”

“Yes, sir,” the agent responded and quickly jumped into the pilot’s seat.

Steve made his way to the table at the center of the jet where the building’s schematics were illuminated in three dimensional holographic lasers. Bucky exhaled a heavy breath as he followed, studying the lights as they detailed every inch of the building he would infiltrate in a matter of a few hours. He kept his right hand down by his side in an effort to not reach out and touch the floating blueprints.

“Y/n will lead Team B through the back entrance and up to the second floor,” Steve explained as he widened the schematics with a single swipe of his hand. The floor print zoomed into the level he was describing.

“Meanwhile, I’ll lead Team A through the main floor,” he continued and adjusted the visual to display the path he intended to take. “We’ll come in hot through the primary entrance. Draw as much attention as we can. That’ll give Bucky the time he needs to track down the Berlin files.”

Bucky swallowed as many of the agents turned to look at him. Steve had briefed him ahead of time on the mission so he knew he would be taking this one on his own. He knew the building better than anyone else, better than anyone who had studied the blueprints. He knew Hydra better than anyone else. Whether he was stored in this particular site was irrelevant. He understood how Hydra operated, enough to determine where they’d keep the sort of information that could bring the organization to its knees. It made the most sense.

Clinical. Rational.

“He’s going alone?” you questioned, your voice quieter than Bucky was expecting. Your focus was solely on Steve, brows knotted at the center. There was a soft waver of concern in your tone he was sure did not go unnoticed by the rest of the team. You’d seen Bucky’s right-hand curl to an aching fist enough times at the mention of his former captors. You knew the wounds were still fresh, the ink on his pardon barely dried.

Steve nodded reluctantly. “We’re going to make a lot of noise, but don’t mistake me. This is a stealth op. Giving Bucky a team is only going to slow him down.”

“You could at least give him back up,” you argued, the gentle hesitancy dropped from your tone. Your hands planted firmly on your hips. Tension coated thick into the room.

Bucky was about to step in, to put a careful hand on your shoulder and tell you he could handle himself just fine, that there was nothing to worry about. Maybe he’d crack a joke. Maybe then he could brush off your concerns and the knots in his stomach as simple worry for a reliable partner. But one of the senior agents – Hanning – cleared his throat first.

“She’s right, Cap,” Hanning said. “It’s not a good idea to send him in alone.”

You exhaled a sigh of relief, looking to Steve with a challenging smirk, but Bucky knew Hanning’s words for what they were. His stomach bottomed as he started to reach for you, to pull you back from the room before you could hear the rest of what Hanning was surely about to say. Bucky could read it on each of the agents’ faces – how they all looked down their noses at him, how thier gazes flickered to the reflection of his left arm in disgust, how they tensed the moment he stepped on board the jet. Humiliation burned hot in his cheeks before Hanning even uttered another word.

“See!” you hit Steve lightly on the arm. You grinned back in Bucky’s direction and did not see the dread weighing in his eyes. “Just give him two guys. Just enough to make sure he’s—”

“—watched. We all know the Winter Soldier can’t be trusted alone in a Hydra facility.”

You stilled at Hanning’s words. Bucky watched the edge of your jaw flicker as you clenched the muscle, your hands gripping tight to the edge of the table. Bucky wondered if it might splinter under your hold.

“Excuse me?” Venom dripped from your tongue on every syllable.

“You said it yourself,” Hanning replied with a short shrug of his shoulders, as if you had simply misheard him. “The Winter Soldier shouldn’t be left on his own. No telling what he’d do unsupervised. Especially around his old buddies.”

You flinched – actually flinched.

To Bucky, this wasn’t anything new. The serum has cursed him with heightened senses strong enough to overhear the quiet whispering when he entered the gym, the nervous murmuring of rookie agents who had grown up on ghost stories of his most prolific crimes. He noticed every frantic skip of a frightened heartbeat and every cold, seething glare of an agent whose loathing outweighed that of his fear. There was little room for anything else amongst the agents within SHEILD.

You – and only a few others among the Avengers – were the exception.

His pardon was conditional. He couldn’t afford the kind of trouble these agents were egging him into. One step out of line and he’d find himself with a lifetime sentence on the raft. Maybe that was what he deserved, but he couldn’t risk retaliating against the agents, couldn’t so much as chance a bitter word thrown back in their faces. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to admit that it was only in fear of not seeing you again that held his tongue.

Bucky had grown numb to the taunts and the stares long before he stepped foot in the tower. He knew how to keep his head down, how to swallow back his pride at the expense of his dignity. He learned how to endure the humiliation, the shame. Hydra had taught him well.

You, however, did not tolerate it.

“He can’t be trusted, Cap,” Hanning went on, turning to meet Steve’s warning stare. “We’ve lost too many guys to his friends at Hydra. I don’t care what papers the President signed. You can’t let the Winter Soldier—”

“Stop calling him that,” you hissed, pounding a fist against the table. The holographic blueprints flared in response. “I said Bucky should have support in the field. Not a fucking parole officer!”

Hanning rolled his eyes; a dangerous choice to make to mock a superior agent in front of her own team. Steam billowed from your ears as several of the agents behind him began to laugh. Hanning wiped his thumb over his bottom lip, his gaze slipping down the length of your body as if to size you up, but he lingered too long. A power move, Bucky deciphered. A means to belittle you. Bucky gritted his teeth.

“He’s a war criminal,” Hanning challenged, ignoring Bucky’s calculated step in your direction.

“He was a prisoner of war!” you shot back, voice raising on every word. “Who was pardoned, by the way!”

“You think that changes anything? A piece of paper doesn’t erase the shit he’s done. Doesn’t bring back any of the SHIELD agents he murdered. Doesn’t make him any less of fuckin’ monster and we shouldn’t have to put up with his—”

“Enough!” Steve ordered, slamming a hand down on the table. The blueprints flickered out until the table powered down. “Hanning, get your men in order. I don’t want to hear another goddamn word out of you until we’re back in New York. Y/n, walk it off. We land in an hour.”

Betrayal seethed in your eyes as your gaze whipped to Steve. You expected him to defend Bucky as fiercely as you did, but Bucky knew better, as did Steve. Steve’s involvement would only worsen the division between Bucky and the rest of the team. They’d turn themselves into martyrs; jump on their high horse and twist Steve’s defense to align with what they already believed – that the Winter Soldier was dangerous, untrustworthy, and corrupted everything he touched. Including the Avengers and SHIELD itself.

And maybe they were right, but it wasn’t a fight you had to be a part of. He worked very hard to ensure you knew little of it at all.

You clamped your jaw shut to keep yourself from handing Captain America his ass next and quickly turned on your heels. Your hand slid around Bucky’s wrist and without much resistance, you dragged him along with you to the other side of the jet. There, you sank against the bench along the frame of the cargo hold and began sliding your hands along your thighs. As he watched you, Bucky wondered if you might tear the fabric of your suit with how intensely you were digging your palms into the muscle.

“Hanning’s an asshole,” you grumbled. “Don’t listen to him. He doesn’t know shit.”

You spoke as if you believed it was an isolated incident – a single, rare occurrence he should brush off his shoulders – and perhaps you did. Perhaps you truly believed that no agent would be as brazen as to mock the former Winter Soldier to his face, but you would be wrong. Their confidence grew each time he kept his head down, each time he swallowed back the rage and humiliation at their taunts.

Bucky sighed, sinking down on the bench beside you. Your hands were still raking against your thighs, your pointed glare still finding its way to the agents huddled on the opposite end of the jet. He figured if he didn’t say something soon, you might lose the battle for your better judgements and take a swing at Hanning before the jet so much as crossed Hydra airspace.

“Make it a hundred.”

You furrowed your brow, your gaze shifting to him. Already, your features began to soften. Your hands stilled against your knees. “What?”

“The bet,” Bucky clarified, forcing a smile. It didn’t touch his eyes and it ached, but it was all he could muster. “Make it a hundred this time.”

A smirk slowly lifted the corners of your mouth and Bucky felt a weight slip off his chest.

“You’re on.”

***

“Do you want know what I’m going to do with your money when I win?”

Bucky dug his teeth into his bottom lip to repress a determined smile as your labored voice crackled through his coms. He could hear the static of the radio waves and the frequent draw of your breath as you led your team in combat on the second level. You’d learned early on to switch your coms to an off-channel frequency while you were separated. Steve was the only one who was aware of the isolated channel, but he knew better than to listen in unannounced.

“Huh, Barnes?” you challenged. He could practically see your smile edging up your cheeks. “Should I tell you how I’m going to spend your hard-earned cash?”

“You do remember you’re the one engaged in combat right now and I’m on an abandoned floor alone, right? Do you hear those odds?” Bucky smirked to himself, imagining the hard roll of your eyes as you scoffed into the coms.

“You’re not as stealthy as you think, Barnes. Maybe you’ll stub your toe on a desk. Don’t underestimate my skill against these... amateurs,” you spat the last word as if to make a point to the man you were currently barreling a fist into. “Now let me tell you how I’m going to waste your money.”

“Go on,” Bucky chuckled. He stalked through the empty hallway, passing by old offices and labs as he scanned in search of the vault in question. Hydra was rather predictable that way.

“Well,” you exhaled and clearly threw a punch at your opponent by the grunt that followed, “Sam’s birthday is coming up."

Bucky froze in his tracks; any trace of a grin wiped from his features. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Your laugh echoed in his ears and damn, if it wasn’t the sweetest sound he’d ever heard – took him right out of the Hydra facility he wandered through, out of the memories attached to the lifeless, concrete rooms, and brought levity back to his chest. How you managed to do that while fighting your way through a hoard of Hydra agents was beyond him.

He turned into a promising office at the end of the hallway. Lavish enough to be one of the higher officer’s, with priceless stolen art on the walls and a desk chair that resembled a small throne. He rolled his eyes.

“Six ahead! Erikson, McKinley! Go now!” You shot an order at one of your men before returning focus back to your side conversation with Bucky. He smiled at the sharpness of your tone – the authority, the respect you commanded. Just as easily, your tone shifted to the gentle teasing reserved only for him. “Maybe I’ll replace the side camera on Redwing you shattered in Guatamala last month.”

Bucky groaned and drew out your name in a long, exasperated tone as he began fumbling through a pile of stray papers on the messy desk. You started to laugh again and Bucky couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the ends of his mouth. It was damn near infectious.

“Fine, fine.” Your voice was breathless; either from the fight or the laughter, Bucky wasn’t sure. “I might venture a trip out to Coney Island. I hear they have life changing soft serve.”

Bucky chuckled just as he tore open a locked drawer, shifting through the contents. “You’d have a hell of a lot of cash left over.”

“Well let’s see,” you began, a short pause followed as you knocked out another combatant. Bucky could hear the thud of the body at your feet. “Two tickets on the train, two world-renown ice cream cones. It adds up, Barnes.”

Bucky furrowed his brow. A sudden unwelcomed pit formed in his stomach as he straightened his back, his hands slipping from their task at the desk. He swallowed, though his throat was dry.

“Two? Who would you—”

“Are you really telling me you don’t want to show me around your old stomping grounds?” you teased, as if he should have assumed you’d only ever been talking about him. “I can be generous with your money, Buck. I’ll even treat you to a funnel cake if you want.”

Butterflies swarmed in his stomach, his teeth gnawing at his lips to suppress the grin and the flush in his cheeks. He didn’t dare look up at the Hydra symbol painted on the wall ahead of him, but he wondered then if the memory of it might have any effect at all in the wake of your laughter through the coms.

“That so?” he managed to reply, trying to find a piece of himself from the forties that could talk to a woman without stumbling over his words. His heart was pounding. Thundering. His hands gripped the edge of the desk in effort to stop the shaking of adrenaline, but it was such a lovely feeling.

“I might even win you a stuffed animal.”

Bucky exhaled as if it might relieve the pleasant aching in his cheeks. “Those games are rigged, you know.”

“I have my tricks.”

A throat cleared at the doorway.

Bucky jolted, his hand on the trigger and safety unlatched before he got a good look at the face of the man watching him from the hallway. His smile fell as he froze – the sound of your voice calling to him through the coms went unanswered. You must have heard the sudden hitch in his breath, noticed just by the short gasp of air that something was wrong.

Hanning didn’t so much as flinch as he stared down the barrel of Bucky’s gun. His arms were folded over his chest, his shoulder leaning against the doorframe. Bucky didn’t dare wonder how long he’d been there watching. He was losing his edge. Distracted in the one place he was supposed to be clinical above all else.

Slowly, Bucky lowered the gun and latched the safety. Hanning cracked his neck to the side as six of his men emerged from the hall behind him. Bucky gritted his teeth and raised a hand to his coms.

“I’m going dark.”

No time at all passed before you argued, “don’t you dare! Not while you’re out there alone.”

Bucky kept clear watch of Hanning and the six agents slowly making their way into the room, knuckles cracking against their hips, stretching their arms. A quiet anger simmered under the surface – boiling in his veins though no steam would release him from the rage it carried.

“I found the vault,” he said, the lie slipping too easily off his tongue. “It’s heavily armored. It’ll cause interference. I’ll meet you on the jet.”

He didn’t like the short clinical statements he was giving you, as if you were little more than a handler requesting report. It wasn’t like him and you knew it.

“No. Tell me where you are. I’ll come to you.” Desperation clouded into your voice.

“I said I’ll meet you on the jet,” he replied sharply; harsher than he ever intended to be with you, but Hanning’s patience was wearing thin and Bucky would not stomach you being able to hear what was about to happen.

“Okay.” You were quieter now, your breaths more labored. Bucky’s stomach wrung in knots. “Just be careful.”

He turned off the coms before regret could sink in.

“No more Avenger in your ear now, huh?” Hanning jeered, a cockeyed smirk hanging on the left edge of his mouth. He shook his head, a darkness sinking into his features when Bucky refused to answer. “Christ. She’s just as pathetic as the groupie sluts camping outside the tower.”

“Leave her out of this,” Bucky growled. He knew full well of the crowd who chanted his name, holding picket signs in support of an innocence he wasn’t sure belonged to him. Bucky wasn’t convinced they knew much of anything about his crimes. He often wondered if they would still draw hearts around his name if they knew the volume of blood on his hands.

Hanning scoffed. “She used to be a damn good agent before you started fucking with her head, you know that? Maybe if I take her to bed next, she’ll start defending my honor, too.”

The desk cracked under Bucky’s grip; splintered under his palms. It didn’t matter that he’d never touched you in that way. Didn’t matter that he hadn’t so much as whispered a breath to the torch he carried for you. But reputation and rumor weighed stronger than truth. And Hanning didn’t seem to mind which served him best.

“We both know why you’re here, Hanning,” Bucky said, his voice taunt in the effort. “Stop beating around the bush.”

A vicious smirk warped Hanning’s features as he signaled to his men. Bucky steeled himself – an agonizing, familiar feeling – and he waited for the first blow to land.

***

Bucky took his time returning to the jet. He didn’t bother turning his coms back on after he begrudgingly tore open the vault door at the back of the office and obtained the files SHIELD was after. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to stomach the onset of questions you’d throw his way, the inevitable concern in your voice, or the lies that would slip too easily from his tongue.

You and Steve would have already returned to the quinjet by now and he was certain you were wearing a tread into the floor of the debrief room. If he closed his eyes, he might have been able to picture your arms folded tightly across your chest, the scowl creating lines down your forehead, and the hushed grumble as you muttered under your breath, eyes constantly darting back to the door in search of him.

Bucky took no pleasure in his lies. He did not enjoy the slight hitch of concern in your voice as you begged him to stay on coms. No— it tore into his chest in such a way he was left wondering if there would be anything left at all if he continued this way.

But you couldn’t know.

You couldn’t know the truth of how far men like Hanning would go to appease their fragile egos. How agents of an organization you dedicated your life to abused their power and a loophole in the system to ensure they could pull one over on the Winter Soldier in favor of bragging rights and a misguided sense of justice. You couldn’t know it wasn’t Hydra that left him bruised and battered after these missions, but instead the agents under your watch.

Bucky paused as he came up on the ramp to the back of the jet. In the vague reflection of the charcoal surface was a trail of welts and bruising covering most of his face. Red had seeped into the white of his left eye. The center of his bottom lip was split open; blood dripped down his chin and left stray droplets against the chest of his jacket. He quickly brushed his wrist against his mouth, smearing the blood onto his hand instead and made his way inside.

Hanning was standing at the edge of the debrief room as his team passed behind him. He raised his hand to you in what appeared to be a mocking salute. You did not react; your arms folded over your chest just as Bucky had imagined and an irritable glare compressed most of your features. But your eyes shifted to the bloody and broken skin on Hanning’s knuckles as his lowered his hand back to his side. You turned and watched him as he joined the rest of the agents.

Bucky swallowed and pressed the button at the mouth of the jet to retract the ramp. While you were distracted by Hanning, Bucky shook his hair into his face, keeping his head down, and made his way to the debrief room as he was required to do. He would not be able to hide the damage to his face for long, but if he could at least conceal your reaction from Hanning and the rest of the team, it might be enough to preserve what remained of his dignity.

You turned and walked back inside the debrief room and Bucky exhaled a heavy breath. As he followed shortly in behind you, he wasn’t surprised to find you had quickly resumed pacing along the back wall of the room. The carpet was slightly discolored under your path.

Only when Bucky closed the door behind him did you notice his presence.

You froze, eyes darting across the room. The relief that sank your shoulders was instant, but brief, because the moment you took in more than just his physical body safe inside the jet, a wash of anger and panic absorbed any traces of solace.

You rushed across the room to him, hands hovering over his shoulders, his forearms, his torso – as if you were seeking to touch him but would not dare to lay a hand upon his body in fear of shattering him whole. Your eyes frantically scanned the open scarring and bruising on his face, searching for more wounds you could not see.

“What the hell happened to you?” You made no effort to obscure the panic trembling in your voice.

“Hydra,” he replied shortly, the lie tasting bitter on his tongue. He looked across the room to Steve, who was standing with his back leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. Reluctance clouded the blues of his eyes but he did not contradict Bucky’s story.

“There shouldn’t have been anyone on that floor. You said it was abandoned! That was the whole point of drawing them all to us. You should have been clear!” you tried to reason and shot a glance at Steve to confirm, but his gaze lowered to the floor. You pinched the bridge of your nose as you turned your attention back to Bucky. “Did you get the files at least? Since you insisted on turning off your damn coms to get them?”

Your anger was a mask. Bucky could tell that much for certain by how your eyes shifted consistently to the blood in his left eye and the split on his lip. Fear was not an emotion you took kindly to, especially a fear you had no means of controlling.

Bucky steeled his features the best he could and pulled the rolled file from the inside pocket of his jacket. Blood stained the corners of the crumpled folder and he set it on the table behind you. You did not seem even remotely satisfied by its presence.

“Why wouldn’t you just tell us you’d been compromised?” you argued, shoving the folder further down the table. “I could have sent back up to you! Dammit Bucky, I would have come to you myself! You know I would have!”

Steve cleared his throat as he stepped away from the wall, a pleading heaviness filling his eyes as his head shifted towards you – a means of begging Bucky to come forward with the truth. You deserved as much, didn’t you? You cared for him for reasons beyond what Bucky could comprehend. But there would always be that sliver of doubt; that sickening voice in the back of his mind that questioned whether you might think he deserved the retaliation he got. Bucky only shook his head at Steve to warn him into silence.

Your eyes narrowed on him, gaze following his path to Steve and back. Your instincts were not something Bucky should tread lightly around if he was intent on keeping this from you, and yet – there was some ache of relief to see the questions spinning behind your eyes, the stubbornness drawn to the surface to simply accept his ruse and pretend as though he wasn’t beaten into submission.

Just as you parted your lips, you paused; your attention caught on the monitors just beyond Bucky’s shoulder. Upon one of the screens, Hanning was dramatically mimicking a fight scene to the entertainment of the surrounding agents. The video carried no sound but it was not easy to mistake the arrogant grin upon Hanning’s face as he showed off the bloodied cuts on his knuckles. Bucky resisted touching the bruise along his jawline.

Bucky watched as you slowly moved closer to the monitor, studying every muscle in your body as you deciphered what you were seeing. Perhaps he might have been able to play it off as another one of Hanning’s pathetic attempts at boosting his ego by dramatizing a basic combat training move against a weak-willed Hydra agent, but while some of the agents looked to Hanning as if he were a god among men, some carefully – fearfully – looked over their shoulders to the debrief room. As if they were awaiting retaliation. Or punishment.

Bucky swallowed bile as your spine suddenly went taunt. A gasp drew in a sharp breath to your lungs as you quickly turned to Bucky for confirmation. Suddenly he couldn’t speak – not with the way your eyes were pleading with him to deny it. You turned to Steve next and it only took a second before you saw the weight in his eyes, the truth he’d been hiding at the will of his best friend – how it ate away at him until there was little left. Your hand clasped over your mouth.

“I’ll be outside,” Steve said quietly, sending an apologetic look in Bucky’s direction.

When the door closed behind him, you turned back to Bucky, waiting for him to say something – anything – to help you understand what happened. Hanning was an asshole, but to do something like this was unheard of. To attack a member of their own team under the ruse of a mission...

And maybe he should have confessed everything then and there, but his own fears were too strong – the possibility you might laugh in his face and side with Hanning, that you might believe him to be as vile and violent as the rest of them, undeserving of a second chance.

So instead of an explanation, he reached into his back pocket and watched as your face contorted into something akin to horror and grief as he handed you a crumbled hundred-dollar bill. His hand trembled as he extended it to you.

“What are you doing?” Your voice was barely a whisper; gaze fixated on the speckles of blood on the corners and under his nails.

Bucky released a breath, though it burned on his exhale. “You won.”

You looked as though you might suffocate under the silence that sank into the room. Tears blurred into your eyes as you slowly took the bill from him, your fingertips lingering against his hand, and tossed it onto the table behind you as if the paper had burned you.

“I don’t care about the stupid bet, Bucky! I don’t... I don’t want your money! I never wanted your money. Not ever,” you told him, voice shaking. You clenched your right hand into a fist as if it might quell the lump building in the back of your throat. “How long has this been happening?”

Bucky’s own throat was coated in gravel. “It doesn’t matter.”

“So, it has happened before.”

His stomach bottomed as he realized he’d given himself up. You were always too smart for him, too smart to fall for this pathetic ruse. He should have known better than to think he could keep this from you. He prepared himself for your anger, for your disappointment, for your mockery, but instead something akin to guilt sank into your features and Bucky swore his knees might give out entirely.

“Our own men have gone after you like this... they’ve beaten you on these missions, reported it off as field injuries, and I... I just didn’t know?”

You brushed at your tears. Bucky suddenly felt nauseous.

“This isn’t your fault,” he said quickly, giving up on any attempts at concealing his lies further. He could not stand for you to think that you played a single role in this mess. This was on him. Only him. You were only ever the light in his darkest days. You could not hold an ounce of blame for what happened. He wouldn’t allow it.

“You were in the med bay last month,” you realized suddenly, an awful mix of remorse and agony coating your features. “You were separated from the team when you were jumped. You said... You said it was Kingpin’s men but... it wasn’t, was it? SHIELD agents put you there. They were the ones who attacked you.”

Bucky clenched his jaw, his hand curling tightly to a fist as if that might stop the trembling. “This isn’t your burden to carry. I can take care of myself.”

“Not my burden?” you scoffed. “Look at you! Jesus, Buck. How is this even possible? You should be able to take these assholes on without breaking a sweat! I’ve seen you spar. I’ve fought alongside you. I know what you can do! Hanning barely has a scratch on him. You should have been able to knock him on his ass without—”

You froze and slowly, your shoulders sank.

“God,” you exhaled, the realization shattering every inch inside your chest as you met his eyes. “You don’t fight back. You can’t, can you? Your pardon. It’s—”

“—conditional,” Bucky sighed and ran a hand through his matted hair. “One word to the council that I’ve stepped out of line and they could revoke it. I could end up on the raft for the rest of my life. And maybe... maybe I belong there anyway but I’m trying to better. To right the wrongs I’ve done. To... to be on the right side of things again. I can’t do that from behind bars. And if word got out I’m throwing punches at the good guys, that’s exactly where I’ll end up.”

“I won’t let that happen,” you swore, wasting no time in your promise. Before he realized it, you were standing only inches from him, your fingertips gently tracing the golden lines on his left hand. He wondered then how he could have ever feared mockery and disgust from a woman who touched him so tenderly.

A tired smile tugged at his broken lip. “Steve doesn’t even have the power to intervene if it came to that. Let this go, Y/n. I can take a few punches if it means getting a chance to start over.”

You winced at his words, clenching your jaw as if to choke back a sob. “You can’t keep letting them do this to you. I won’t let you.”

“What would you have me do?” Bucky asked, his voice absent of anger or challenge. It simply carried the heaviness of defeat, of acceptance. “You know what would happen if I gave the council a single reason to doubt which side I’m on. My hands are tied.”

He realized his mistake the moment a deadly calm swept over you. Clarity, like standing under the eye of storm. Your gaze darted to the monitor where Hanning was still mimicking his fight with Bucky.

“Y/n, wait!”

But you were already halfway out of the room. You did not turn back at Bucky’s plea as you stormed around the corner of the short stretch of hall and into the primary deck of the quinjet. Steve straightened from his position leaning against the wall, his eyes darting behind you where Bucky was quickly following behind. But it was not Steve you’d come in search of.

Hanning was laughing with a hoard of his men, gathered around the holograph table worth more than any of their miserable lives combined. He rolled his eyes at the sight of you, making a mockery of the fury raging into every line upon your face as you sought him out as he swatted his buddy on the arm.

The bastard even had the unearned arrogance to smirk as he foolishly turned his attention to Bucky. “Enlisting your girlfriend to fight your battles for you, huh?”

You did not so much as slow your pace, did not draw in a full breath or acknowledge the slight furrow in Hanning’s brow before you threw a punch directly to his left cheekbone. He cursed as he jolted away from you, hands flying to his face as blood began to gush down his nose.

“What the fuck is wrong with—”

You didn’t give him time to finish before you grabbed a firm hold of his collar and tossed him to the floor. Agents scrambled out of your warpath as you stalked after him.

Hanning looked up at Steve, holding onto his broken nose. Blood seeped from between his fingers. “Do something!”

Steve did not avert his gaze as he replied, “I didn’t see anything.”

Hanning’s eyes widened as you dropped to your knees beside him and fisted his collar. “Sergeant Barnes may not be able to fight back without breaking his pardon, but I sure as hell can. And unlike you, I don’t need my fights rigged to win. Lay a hand on him again and I’ll ensure you walk away from your next mission on a fucking stretcher!”

Hanning clawed at your grip, fear seeping through every line upon his face. “You can’t threaten me!”

“Wanna bet?” Your nails nearly tore through the Kevlar fabric of Hanning’s shirt. “I’m an Avenger, asshole. You’re no one. I can make sure you’re transferred to the furthest corner of this planet. You’ll wish you were in space with the tree and the goddamn racoon!”

Hanning’s panicked eyes darted back to Steve who only shrugged and turned his attention to the passing of clouds outside the cockpit windows.

Bucky couldn’t help the smirk as it tugged at his mouth. He folded his arms firmly over his chest, sinking back into his stance. This image of you – baring your teeth, vicious in every muscle, seething in defense of him – was one he would commit to memory. He’d return to it in his darkest hours when he could find no answer for the cruel voices in the back of his mind – to draw upon this moment to chase away his demons with your anger and protection.

“Are we clear?” you ordered when Hanning was too stunned to respond. He nodded frantically, as did the rest of the crew. You released Hanning’s collar and he fell to the ground with a heavy thud. He stayed still as stone as you slowly rose to your feet and brushed off his blood on the thighs of your pants.

Your chest heavy and steady – each breath longer than the last. You did not tear your eyes away from Hanning for even a second, ensuring he felt every ounce of the rage burning inside of you.

Bucky took a step forward, unbothered by the stares of the agents as he approached you. He set a hand on your shoulder, instantly noting the rigid tension in your muscles.

“Come with me,” he requested, his voice quiet enough only you could have heard him. You expelled a breath as if it were made of fire and slowly followed him from the room.

Bucky stepped inside the debriefing room first. He looked to the windows where clouds were passing by below the jetstream. Steady. Even. He took as much of their calm as he could manage and picked up the crumpled hundred dollar bill from the table. When he turned to face you again, he attempted to hand you the money but you held your hands up defensively and took a cautious step backward.

“Bucky, no. Please, I don’t want it,” you resisted, your voice hollow and pained. “I only made the stupid bet to get you to stop being so reckless. I don’t want your money.”

He smiled at your stubbornness, at your scheming means to keep him safe. Bucky inched closer to you, extending his left palm up until you cautiously set your hand in his. His thumb drew a careful line along your palm and you watched him with such startling precision, he wondered if you might have been committing the feeling to memory.

“What happened to our plans for Coney Island?” he asked softly.

Tears spilled over your cheekbones as a tired laugh escaped you. He pressed the bill into your palm and closed your grip around it – holding it tight at the center of your hand as gently as you might his own heart.

“I should have said something the first time it happened,” Bucky said quietly, his gaze still fixated on your closed fist resting on his palm. “I’m sorry I didn’t.”

You shook your head. “You don’t need to apologize for anything.”

“No, I do.” He sighed, concentrating on the smooth skin of your hand. He skimmed his thumb along the tender skin on your knuckles, his heart suddenly heavy in his chest. “You didn’t even hesitate to defend me. Didn’t even second guess why they might have gone after me. You... you didn't question if I deserved it.”

Your face slacked at his admission. “Bucky...”

“I should have told you,” he repeated despite the burden of grief in your voice. He knew now that if he’d offered you a share of this weight from the start, that maybe it wouldn’t have gotten this far. Hanning wouldn’t have planned each mission to ensure he cornered Bucky on his own and got in enough swings to fuel his pathetic, sheltered ego. Maybe Bucky wouldn’t have spent so long believing this was his penance.

You lifted your free hand to the side of his face, gently settling against the bruising to cup his cheek. He closed his eyes, sinking into the feeling. Your thumb brushed along a tender ache on his cheekbone but there was no pain under your touch.

“I know now,” you told him softly, “and it won’t ever happen again.”

Bucky smiled though it tugged at the split on his lip. “I know.”

You lowered your hand from his face and gently pushed the hundred-dollar bill back towards him. “Take this back, Buck. Take it back and promise we’ll still go to Coney Island.”

Bucky closed his fist around the crumpled bill and slowly nodded. You did not release his hand. You did not pull away. You only held him – touched him as though you could not stand to pull away from him.

“I swear it,” he exhaled, his gaze still fixated on your hands.

You sighed, relief slipping through your body as you smiled at him. “Think you can win me a giant bear?”

Bucky chuckled and he didn’t mind when the split on his lip ached as he smiled. “Should we bet on it?”

---

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#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky barnes X you #bucky barnes one shot

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hyperfixat · 7 months

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day 14 of ai less whumptober: No Anesthesia

supporting these posts helps encourage my writing and creating, thanks!

(@ailesswhumptober)

The sound of one of your joints popping and the breaking of a bone are terribly similar. Too similar, in fact. The brothers have broken many bones in their infinite time.

The first snap, crackle, pop of your joints had made everyone in the room freeze. Leviathan, in the middle of talking about some new limited Ruri-chan figure, stopped. All seven pairs of eyes stare at you in horror.

Did the human die? Are they broken? Fragile thing, what would Lord Diavolo say?

You freeze as well, hands intertwined and held above your head.

Lucifer seems to have gotten even paler than his usual pale-ness. Mammon’s gaze catches yours and is filled with absolute horror, and Asmo. Asmodeus looks on the verge of illness, eyes wide and face sickly gray.

“Ohmygod,” Levi breathes out in absolute shock.

“What’s wrong?” You’re a little nervous at their odd behavior, and as to what happened to make their moods flip so suddenly.

“Are you okay?” Satan is on his feet, walking over to you, attempting to inspect you for any injuries. Mammon flies to his feet as well.

“Hey, hey hands to yourself! The Great Mammon can do that.” He pushes Satan aside without any real force. Together their hands and eyes cover you, like a TSA pat down.

“Does anything hurt?” Lucifer asks while you’re nearly being groped.

“No?” Confusion fills your voice.

A worried whimper comes out of Beel and he turns to Belphie, “so bad it’s numb.” You think you hear him say.

“Nothing seems broken,” Satan says, he’s squatting down to check your legs and feet. He lifts himself to standing. His eyes are somber as he gently takes hold of your shoulders. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Mammon shifts on his feet behind you, hand brushing over your shoulder blades, where you popped.

“Yeah? I was just stretching…”

Asmo inches over to you, crawling on the floor slowly like you’re a landmine that could detonate at any second.

“You cracked.” It’s an accusation. Lucifer near glowers at you.

“It happens.” You shrug.

“No it doesn’t,” Lucifer glares this time.

“Maybe not to you, but it’s normal,” you side eye him.

A hand on the hem of your pants. Asmo looks up at you, horror still plastered on his face.

Dramatic.

You pat his head and some color returns to his face.

“What happened then?” Belphegor challenges you.

“I cracked my back.”

“How?” Mammon’s jaw drops. “That’s horrible.”

“It feels good.” You defend. “You guys can’t crack things?”

“No!” Asmo cries out. “That sounded horrendous.”

“Oh.”

It’s confusing, demons and angels don’t make sounds like that. No one hasn’t let themself grow used to the noise, they’ll never let themselves. Because the haunting what if? will never leave.

Eyes always fly to you the second one of your bones shift; it’s sweet they care, but they’re worried over nothing! You’ve never broken a bone, ever.

You jinxed yourself.

Today you broke a bone. Well, you’re pretty sure you’ve at least done something you shouldn’t have to your bone. The splintered edge of the bone sticks out gruesomely from your forearm. Yeah, that’s not normal.

Blood drips onto the bathroom floor and you don’t know why you aren’t crying right now. The demon had handled you too roughly. Shoved you out of the way too hard and you hit the air dryer bolted into the wall then this happened.

They had looked at you with a mixture of shock and fear as the sickening crunch of your arm registered, and the coppery scent of blood began filling the air. Panic took over the stranger and they ran out of the bathroom, leaving you to sit on the floor and stare in shock at your horrible looking arm.

Your stomach churns and you look towards the ceiling and blink to try and clear your mind.

The demon fled the second his actions dawned upon them, fleeing the scene of the crime. Smart fella.

The scent of blood permeates the air and you know you won’t be alone for long. A hungry demon is bound to find you the way you are just bleeding.

And just as the thought hits you, the bathroom door flies open and Asmo is rushing towards you. Concern and panic lace his features as he places a gentle hand on your injured arm. You wince.

“Sorry, dear, but I need to get this tied off.” His voice is sweet and your head rolls to the side as you relax, because your Asmo is here. Things’ll be alright now. Mammon stands anxiously behind him, avoiding looking at your wound.

The bathroom door has swung closed again and you relish in the privacy of having you Asmo and Mammon take care of you.

“Oh, who did this, MC?” Asmo keeps the lilt in his voice, although it is strained. “Hmm? Who would hurt you?” Golden eyes attempting to meet yours.

You crane your head further back to avoid the lure of Asmodeus’ eyes, “it was an accident.”

There’s a tug at the junction of your elbow.

He makes a displeased hum, “Mammon, fetch Satan for me, he’ll know how to fix this better than me. Oh, Barbatos too if you happen across him.”

Mammon gives your uninjured arm a pat and follows orders.

“Alright sweetheart,” Asmo kisses your cheek, “this might hurt a bit. I’m gonna have a little bit of help to fix your arm up. You’re in good hands, doll.”

You hear ripping fabric then have to hold back a scream as Asmo begins to wrap the exposed gore.

“I know,” he sighs sympathetically. “I know.” He keeps it tight on your arm and you take some deep breaths.

The door swings back open and Satan and Mammon come in, Barbatos in tow. Satan’s face twists into a grimace as the scent registers. The two that Mammon fetched kneel at your sides adjacent to Asmo, Barbatos tears his white gloves off and takes hold of your upper arm, applying firm pressure.

“Fuck,” Satan hisses out, fidiling with his pockets. He pulls out something silver and metallic and you wince and turn away.

When you do so you bump your face into Mammon’s chest, where he’d taken to holding you steady.

You do your best to keep quiet when you feel them begin to work on your arm, but you can’t help a pained, breathless moan.

“Sorry, your pain cannot be helped,” Barbatos puts his bare hand on your knee and attempts to give it a comforting squeeze. It doesn’t do much, but you're grateful.

You feel sharpness cutting away at flesh and muscle. Your eyes bulge and you grip Mammon’s forearm with all the strength you can muster.

Fuck, it hurts so bad, it’s all you can do not to scream or passout.

“Shh,” Asmo soothes, you peek an eye open and glare at him.

“I can’t,” you stutter out.

“Yes you can, I’m almost done.” Satan says, voice plain.

You feel Barbatos stand and walk to the dryer you were shoved into. Peeking out the corner of your eye you see him crouch and investigate. His bloodied white glove runs through the half dried viscera painting the floor. You’re torn away from watching him when a new pain rocks through your nerves.

A sharp crunch resonates through your body as Asmodeus and Satan shove your bone back into place. You let out a hoarse squeal and there’s a fresh round of hushing from Asmo and Mammon. Your breaths come in wheezing bursts and Barbatos comes to kneel a bit in front of you.

“I trust these three with fixing you up for now. I must report this to the Young Master.” Barbatos gives a sympathetic smile and stands to leave. “I will tend to you at a later point, MC.”

A sharp, pointed pain in, and a sharp pain out. Steeling your nerves you peek at your newly shoved back inside arm to see Asmo sewing your flesh shut as Satan holds it closed.

It takes an excruciatingly long three minutes for them to finish and tie off the stitches.

“Now, darling,” Asmo’s stained hand reaches to cup your jaw, “when we get home, we’ll talk about finding whoever did this to you.”

“Don’t be too harsh now, Asmodeus.” Satan chides, holding your injured arm soothingly. “They’re sure to be in a lot of pain right now. Save that conversation for when they’re feeling better, okay?” When he finishes the sentence, he nuzzles into the side of your head affectionately.

“Let’s get you home now,” Asmo says, blatantly ignoring his older brother.

As Mammon helps you to your feet he speaks, “we should probably stop by the student council office and let Lucifer know that they’ll be missing from classes. And,” Mammon turns his attention to you. “Don’t you worry, the Great Mammon will be with you the whole time you’re healin’ up!”

#obey me #verified hyperfixat post #obey me x reader #obey me x mc #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer x mc #obey me mammon #leviathan x mc #satan x y/n #beel x reader #belphegor x reader #demon brothers x reader #ailesswhumptober2023 #ai less whumptober #ailesswhumptoberday14

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hana-no-seiiki · 1 year

Text

WHY DON’T YOU GIVE ME A SMILE? (ACT 1)

YANDERE! BATFAM x JINX (ARCANE/LEAGUE)-ESQUE! READER

A lil’ platonic yanderes harley and joker in the mix too hehe

gender neutral reader.

cw/tw: mentally ill reader. reader has schizophrenia. reader has a massive fear of abandonment. harley and joker only feed to that. a r s o n among other crimes. gaslighting. manipulation. implied r*pe (by reader im so sorry you guys) reader is interested in all genders.

summary: meet jinx, gotham’s loudest, most explosive villain. no one knows who they really are, or if jinx is really even their name. but one thing’s for sure — they’ve got a lot of people chasing after them and their reasons aren’t so noble.

status: unedited

Considering Jinx was inspired by Harley Quinn. You’re probably her protégé. Her darling little child with Joker.

YOUR ORIGINS:

She saw you in the aftermath of the explosion. Cold and alone. Fire roaring behind you despite the heavens pouring its heart out, as if it was desperately trying to wash your tears and pain away.

She saw your bruises and a girl a little older than you walk away.

Her heart ached for you. No child deserved to be put in that kind of position, so she stepped in and made herself known.

“ I . . . I only wanted to help . . . Don’t leave me . . . Don’t . . .

You muttered.

Joker, who came here to marvel at the chaos such an explosion would present smiles maniacally.

You. You were the one that did this.

This beautiful wreckage and an equally beautiful child.

You were practically begging to be moulded into a weapon.

You charged at them both as they got closer, and while Harley was ready to defend her man - even hurt you if she has to - they did not expect what came next.

You just, held unto Joker’s right leg.

“ She’s not my sister . . . No . . . if she was she wouldn’t leave me . . . “

You were far too emotional for his liking. But nonetheless. A boon can always be found in a curse. That is, your desire for revenge.

He takes one look at Harley before picking your small body into his arms.

“ Who cares about fools like them, little one? They don’t matter in the grand scheme of things.”

His smile never stopped widening, yet even as a kid you never saw it as creepy or unnerving. In fact, it only reminded you of the smiles you used to draw on your nail bombs.

“All we ever truly have is ourselves. “

“So, smile. Don’t let your tears bring you down.”

Moulding you into the perfect weapon was easy.

Having a psychiatrist as a partner did help a lot in your development.

All it took was a few reminders of that fateful day before you began obediently following their rules and instructions.

You were a genius and since Harley kept protesting against it. You weren’t baptized into a vat of acid like the couple was.

Now, Harley and Joker are the worst possible parents you can ask for. So unlike Arcane’s Jinx. You are way way more unhinged. Not to mention, horny and materialistic.

As you grew up, you began to take interest in intentionally hurting people just for the sake of it. Stealing things was just a normal Tuesday for you. Being successful in your endeavors for once, and having bigger stacks of cash felt exhilarating.

The women and men were amazing. Your pseudo parents being who they were, didn’t really care if you were a sexual deviant or a pervert. When your hormones started kicking in they let you do whatever you want. Even giving you some of the people he held hostage as a toy to play with. If you have the capability of getting someone pregnant/or getting pregnant yourself they wouldn’t really care about the baby but you knew them well enough to know they’d use the kid as a way to manipulate you so you were careful in that aspect anyhow.

Harley noticed that when laying with women you’d often call out your sister’s name or call them sis by itself.

Sick. Disgusting. Is what a normal mother would think after finding out such a fact.

But to her you were just growing up so quickly. She had convinced Joker to go ahead and kill your sibling a long time ago behind your back and was growing anxious with the thought of you hating her and ruining this happy family dynamic (she had in her head)!

So she starts bringing you to more heists in disguise. Always keeping a close eye on you so that if any of those stupid heroes and vigilantes get any close, and you too far. She’d know as soon as possible.

It’s safe to say you grew up pretty spoiled, but even then you were hungry for more.

You see, even if they (Harley and Joker) weren’t careful with their “parenting” approach. They were careful with keeping you hidden from the Dark Knight himself.

Not that they were scared you’d get hurt. They could always nurse you back up again. Harley actually enjoyed the times you’d gotten in the cross fire. More time to take care of you in her arms.

They were mostly scared of the Dark Knight stealing you. Afraid that he’ll take you away and turn you into a goody-two-shoes they wouldn’t recognize anymore.

So as much as you were more involved it still felt like they were babying you.

It was your situation with you family all over again

But this time, this time you’ll show them…

You weren’t weak. And it’ll do them good to remember that.

YOUR RIVALRIES:

You made your debut at around the time Tim was still Robin.

You were his very own Joker. A menace deal with. A person that only cared for the thrill that came with hurting and killing masses.

You were terrible. Evil. A demon he had to exorcise from this world.

A demon he fell hopelessly in love with.

He didn’t know how his feelings came to be. It may have been the amount of stress and pressure he was facing coupled with having to deal with your ass every damn day whether directly or indirectly. But he found himself yearning to see you at times. Getting warm when he thought of you. He felt solace knowing that no matter how many times he’d attempt to tear you down completely, you’d still come back to face him once again.

He was so guilty of his feelings. How could he fall for someone as heinous as you? You were the worst of the worst. But somehow that made things so much more better.

You were a taboo. A vice he couldn’t have. The thought of entering such a forbidden relationship excited him just cause it was just that — forbidden , a temptation that should always stay like that.

He somehow manages to gain the self control to stay away from you for a while.

But then came Damian and he was set to replaced. Just like that.

“Wow there Timmy Boy. You look like shit.”

“J-Jinx?! Why are you here? How do you know my name?!” He asked as if he didn’t know every single detail about you himself.

“I have to know my little birdie well don’t I?”

“What kind of archnemesis would Jinx be to their little Robin if they didn’t do a lil’ research?” You spoke in a higher, cutesy voice as if you were your handgun that you’ve affectionally named Zapper.

“Right you are Zapper! I would be a terrible rival. That wouldn’t do for a hero as great as Timmy!”

He thought that all his work was all for naught. All the hours he spent trying to prove himself was gone so fast.

But you reminded him of his place in this world. Of his position as a hero. Your rival.

The warmth in your eyes when you looked at him sealed the deal. There was no coming from this. He was yours as you were his.

“Only I can hurt you like this, toots. Don’t forget that.”

Little did you know that Tim took those words to heart and never let anyone else hurt him (and stay alive).

“Big Bat can replace you but you’ll always be the Robin in my heart !” You winked at him, signaling with one of your manicured fingers for him to smile. Which ended up almost scratching your cheeks.

Tim was confused (incredibly flustered, not to mention har—), why were you so kind to him all of a sudden. He knew you were the playful type but you were usually ruthless when it came to battle. You weren’t one to play with food for too long. For you to excuse him, much less help him in such a state.

Who were you and what did you do to his Jinx?

“OW hEy! I swear if you put that there Pow-Pow— I’ll—“ Tim heard you screeching out of view.

Scratch his doubts. Yep, you were definitely still his Jinx.

The Dark Knight knew who you were from the beginning.

He had his suspicions even before you came into the scene. With your knack to tag everything with neon spray-paints.

At first he thought you were a simple thug that Joker and Harley picked up. But the way they were sheltering you made it seem otherwise.

The regret he felt knowing that you were basically a child in their filthy hands and was now far too gone to save was immense.

If only he knew. You wouldn’t be in this situation.

While he was “dead” he found himself looking into you more. About the death of your biological parents and the way your sister abandoned you to Harley and Joker.

He felt pity for your childhood and a sense of kinship. Sure the incident may have been your fault but you were a child. How could you have known your actions would have such terrifying consequences.

If only you knew him when you were younger.

If only.

He was sure you’d be one of the greatest vigilantes alive.

“I knew you were alive.”

You looked down at Batman, staring while both of you were being doused by the rain. Thunder accompanying the sound of conversation.

He takes a defensive stance.

“I’m not going to fight ya, that’s Joker’s thing. And I know he’ll grill my ass if I stole his archnemesis.”

“What a loser!”

“Hey! He took us in. We should be more grateful!”

Bruce looked at you as you talked with a new, rather large, shark shaped gun. He had memorized the names of all your “companions” by now and was oddly excited and slightly unnerved by the new one.

“So, why’d you leave? Was it . . . was it on purpose?”

“No.”

“Then come back.”

He almost dropped all his plans with the way you told him that.

“Tim needs you . . . and your other sons too or whatever.”

“Come with me.”

“You crazy, old bat? Why would I—“

“I know what it feels like to have no family. Harley doesn’t love you. Joker doesn’t love anyone.”

“Do you?”

“I do.”

“Well tough luck man. I don’t give a shit about love.”

You dropped down to his level. A thud resounds, loud enough to cut through the rainfall and thunder.

“Cause love never gave a shit about me.”

“We’ll have to refuse. Just get back to your sons, hero!”

“I’m sorry, perhaps I didn’t make it clear enough—

— I don’t think you have a choice in this matter, [Y/N].”

Act 2 with Jason, Dick and Damian coming soon! If you’d like to be tagged just reply to this post ^^

You like my writing? Follow my blog and maybe take a look at the fic linked below!

WHAT’S UP DANGER : Yandere Batfam x Miles Morales! Reader

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iridescentdove · 7 months

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👏I👏AM👏TIRED

of seeing so many Yandere! BSD x Reader, and it’s always the character or everyone being Yandere for Reader, I have to request a Platonic! BSD x Yandere! Teen! Reader, in which Reader is in any organization of your choice, and since Reader is underage, they see said organization as their family, precious people that they hold dear to their hearts, and don’t wish for any of them to die or leave and abandon them. This triggers their Yandere instincts, and ultimately they kill anybody who’s hurt their darlings in any way or attempts to "steal" their attention or worse, guide them away from Reader.

LONELINESS NO MORE.

platonic!bsd x yandere!teen!reader

A/N: It's nice to go a bit gruesome sometimes lol- anyways, so I just decided to choose the PM for this.

Let's just say you were similar to Dazai in a way. As a homeless young child, you had no home or family and friends to even call your own.

And to say the least? It was a little lonely.

This was something rather different, as you grew up to have an understanding that the world is never fair. Even before being taken into the Port Mafia by MORI, you were already much of an unhinged criminal yourself.

In a way, it was bad due to how young you were, but given this was a wretched world on it's own – many things can happen.

You killed, you stole, you did many things. At some point you probably rivaled Dazai's crime list because yours looked like an entire fucking receipt.

And that is what lesd you to the mafia.

MORI had found you, and went 'fuck it', deciding to just grab you and take you back with him to the base.

Well at first – you got a bit defensive, not knowing his real intention and thinking of fighting back yourself. But it was when he gave you new clothes, gave you food, and actually took responsibility of you was when you realized.

This man was just ... taking care of you.

And for the first time? You were really excited. It didn't take very long for you to grow accustomed to the Port Mafia.

Sure they made you do dangerous and gruesome missions, but you were used to it honestly. So it didn't matter that much. You met new faces and grew very attached to them, the dreaded loneliness that creeped into your heart grew into–

Obsession.

Yes, that's right. You found no other reason to dislike them at all, and they treated you like no one else ever did.

Like family.

CHUUYA was rather nice to you, despite his aggression and the rough edges he seems to pull off. Since you're underage, he drinks grape juice with you. Lmao ye, we love that shit. You liked being around him, defending him against accusations and giving him a shoulder to lean on.

He was like a brother to you. You adored most things about the fancy hat man. Scratch that, everything about him.

He releases one of those rare genuine smiles – mostly only to you, and he just thought you were the sweetest.

Oh, how wrong he was.

It was only one simple conversation. CHUUYA was talking to another mafia members in the lower ranks, discussing about the topic for the next PM meeting at hand.

Of course at first glance, they didn't look close at all. Just a normal chat between acquaintances. But did it make you mad?

Obviouely it did.

The very next day, the orange haired-man was looking for the same said man he spoke with the day before. Yet he was rather confused to see he wasn't around.

What the hell? Well that was weird, he could have sworn that he asked to meet them in this same spot right now.

Well, guess he wouldn't be meeting with them after all. In the distance, you were smiling – hiding that dead, cold expression on your face as you wiped the blood off the saw, a few splashee of blood and guts on the weapon.

But of course, you wouldn't let him know anything~ ♡

And simply, KOUYOU made it much easier. She was like a sweet, elder sister that spoiled you and taught you everything that you needed to know.

You simply loved her, and loved the times when you'd just hang around each other and dress one another up in various clothes. Be it trendy outfits or putting makeup on one another.

She took care of you as she should, and she grew very attached as well. KOUYOU was rather protective and sweet.

So when you saw her spoiling another girl in the picture, you were fucking livid.

How dare she pay more attention to another kid than you?

She was treating KYOUKA in private as if she was more important than you ever were. And it began to hardem your heart once more, growing angry at your elder sis paying more attention to some useless assassin.

You were way better than her, stronger even.

So imagine how relieved and prideful you felt when that girl had left the mafia to be with the detective agency instead. She wasn't even loyal! She doesn't deserve to be in the PM!

It left KOUYOU feeling agitated and sad, so you did what a younger sibling would do. You were the one comforting her, even manipulating her with your sweet words. You lured her in and had her give you more attention than before.

Just like how you wanted it to be.

AKUTAGAWA was honestly a tough nut to crack. You can easily tell he doesn't care about you at all. Well, he'd acknowledge your abilities a little but that's all you're getting.

But that won't stop you from killing those who tried to get even the slightest close to him.

After all, family members must stay with one another forever.

You didn't really mind much about that blonde girl who admires him and follows him around. It's not like she can take him away, he doesn't give a damn about her.

Plus, his sister was very nice! She gave you the love you needed, and she actually cared. Even though her brother was pretty cold, you'd think she also was – but in reality, GIN is a sweet, somewhat shy girl who gave you gifts and attention.

No matter which mafia member it was – wheneve ryou were with them, you were so sweet and caring, such an adorable teen who looks out for all of them and their wellbeing.

Yet behind closed doors, while they weren't looking, you glared daggers at other kids or people they payed attention to, your greedy self wanting all of it to yourself.

It wasn't fair.

It wasn't!

You never held back. You spilled their guts out, you ripped out those fools' hearts – crushing it under your foot, knowing you deserved the love more than their ignorants asses ever did.

And most of all? No one noticed a thing. MORI had continued to send you out mission after mission. He didn't notice the desperate pleads of those immature adults, the heartbreaking cries of those innocent children.

If it was for family, you'd do anything.

After doing all that – you give them a sickly sweet smile, as you pull them to hang out and play with you, no questions asked.

They never noticed.

And quite clear, you were a sadistic young teen. After being so pissed seeing those people getting close to them, it's like a breath of fresh air when you hear the bloodcurdling screams coming from their mouths.

TACHIHARA wasn't that observant, but he could tell that there was something not right about you at all. Yet, he himself was not free from the depths of your pure, honest love. He'll find himself spoiling you, loving you – like you're his very own sister.

He was going to fall into the trap whenever he likes it or not, because you love them way too much.

If someone else tries to destroy that happiness,

They'll just have to dissapear like the rest.

#port mafia x reader #bungou stray dogs #bsd x reader #port mafia #chuuya nakahara #yandere #bsd yandere #mori ougai #ozaki kouyou #platonic bsd #teen reader #bsd akutagawa

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bat-writer · 11 months

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Bruce doting on a pregnant batmom 🥰 (I might have sent this twice sorry but if so I still hope you have a wonderful day/evening/night ❤️)

A/N: Yes. THATS all just Y E S - I may have gone overboard LMAO

‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿ ‿‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿

Probably has a hunch way before you. This is Batman/Bruce Wayne. He know your cycle, signs and symptoms and all!

One day he came into your bedroom with some breakfast in bed and a small plastic wrapping

“What is it?” You asked

“A test. It’s been a week since your period should have been here. don’t be nervous or afraid we’ll talk it over with the results” he didn’t want it to sound like a business transaction but he wanted it to be a serious conversation

If it was negative or positive he’d be there with open arms and full support. Whatever your choice may be.

You step out of the bathroom with no emotion on your face and walk over to him. You place a kiss to his lips and whisper

“We’re having a baby” with a grin. His large arms coming around your frame to embrace you in a strong but gentle hug. Was it planned? No. Was this the best news he could hear all day? Absolutely! The woman he loves carrying his child is just beautiful to him.

Goes downstairs to tell Alfred about the news and has him set up a doctors appointment as soon as possible to get everything in order

During the first trimester you thought he might secretly be a caretaker. From morning sickness, to fatigue, to even your aches and pains he found some kind of solution for it all. He started to move things around the manor to make space and to start planning a nursery.

He would have a tape measure to measure your stomach each week to see the growth

"Honey, I won't be showing until I'm at least 3 1/2 weeks" you giggle

"I'm telling you the bump in right there! You just cant see it because your breasts are swelling" he tried to defend, when in fact they have not grown yet

During your second trimester he tried to crack down on crime as much as physically possible for your new addition

Speaking of new additions, he had to inform the rest of his family about who would be the newest Wayne. First up with Jason and Dick.

“Congrats you two!” Was Dicks response and of course Jason says

“…you still do it at your age-“ dick hit him in the ribs to not ruin the moment.

Either way, they were both happy for you and let you both know if anything is needed. They were there to lend a hand. The only other person left now was to tell Damien. Luckily Damien had a liking to you. However, when he had first gotten to the manor, he had his clashes with a dick so he doesn’t know how exactly he’d react to a new baby.

He also would secretly ask them to right down any kinds of foods or combos you liked so he could always have them handy

“As long as it stays out of my space It wouldn’t really matter. And as long as Y/N is okay with it…” it was his own unique way of saying as long as you were happy, he was happy

Damien also made it habit to be around the same area as you when Bruce was out and Alfred was busy. You even asked him once if he wanted to feel the developing bump. He did and for a spilt second you could tell he was a bit flustered. After he had his fill he’d move and tell you some fact about your state in the pregnancy

Also his way of showing he cared

Bruce’s favorite thing was to watch you sleep in the morning and watch as you’re bummed rose and fell from every breath that you took. He also really love to watch you walk away because you’re starting to get a slight waddle from the new center of gravity on your body it was adorable.

He also loves when you have his shirt on and the slight bump that stretches the fabric so slightly

Hes on the verge of banning you from the Batcave and watching the computer. It gets pretty chilly down there. He doesn’t want you or the baby getting cold. Even though you told me you were fine and you have three blankets on you but because he loves you so much he loves his stay there.

Speaking of, missions is the only time he’s constantly in communication with you to make sure that you are right which also means Alfred is constantly being called to check in on you. But he did love coming home and taking a nice warm shower with you and feeling your bump

He gets a new glimmer in his eyes when the baby starts to kick and move more. There was one time the baby had a big stretch. It was a little scary but also fascinating and slightly painful 😭

He’ll give you the entire bed just so you could be comfortable!

Lots of massages and kisses. Anything he can relive for you! He’s also restricted you!

No bag carrying, no going up the stairs (had tried to instal one of those chairs to take you up and down), no bending down to get something, no kitchen knives, etc.

He wanted you to just be pregnant💀but you just could not love that way! So he lets you help with very SMALL things

He has also gone overboard on baby clothes, accessories, and just anything baby!

Has 2 cribs one in the nursery and one in your bedroom.

He organized your baby shower and just made it soft, elegant and beautiful. Gender is left as a surprise since he’d want to keep any media as far from you as possible

Sometimes feels guilt when he sees your struggling with pains he can’t really take away. Like when you experienced a Braxton hick he was reminded of what you would soon go through when it was the baby’s due date but he’s also reminded that he will be father once again tk a new baby.

This time he’ll be there from the very start.

Oh he’s also booked you the best suit in the hospital with only the best doctor and midwife. He knows sometimes hospitals can be inconsiderate of their patients so he wants only the best in securing your safety and the baby’s

He helps to pack your bag for when you go into labor. While you go through it all you hold up the tiny clothing that will soon be filled by a tiny version of you or him! At one point you do get a bit emotional and overwhelmed

It was a lot

You’re going to be a mother, you’re gonna push a baby out, there was A LOT more than just having a cute baby. Feedings, doctors, loosing sleep, all of that so you cousins help but cry. Bruce put everything down and came over to you and inlet in front of you

“Hey, hey, it’s okay…..I can’t lie to you and say it’ll be easy as pie. But I can promise you I will be there for you both always. Anytime you need help, a break or just need me there. I’m always here for you both” he said placing a kiss to your bump and one to your ring finger where your ring sits

He wipes your tears away and kisses your head. You finish packing the bag and set it aside. You snuggle into Bruce’s side and lay in comfortable silence

In this bed Bruce was holding the love of his life and the product of their love that grows inside of her

-kitty🐈‍⬛

- part 2???👀

#bruce wayne #batman #bruce wayne x reader #Batman x pregnant reader #dc comics #batman fanfiction #batman x fem!reader

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daze4all · 7 months

Text

Yandere! Dan Heng x Reader : Shackled Love

Shackled Love. Drabble/Oneshot

Warnings: Slight Violence, Yandere, Prison, implied minor character death. Spoilers

To Truly See the Sky.

Synopsis: A warden of shackling prison! Reader x Stockholm syndrome! Yandere! Dan Heng decides to bring you with him when he breaks out. Whether you are willing or not.

“You care for me, don’t you?” Dan Heng stated one day in the shackling prison

Always there, providing comfort, you feel bad for the high elder who fell so far as a paragon of virtue and righteousness as the idol of all vidyhadyra.

"Not like the others here." mused Dan Heng eye searching for an answer

"I cannot forgive the crimes but, you are not the criminal" You adverted was all you simply said, and perhaps your mistake was admitting you did " and I do"

The one you once admired as a champion of the sword tournament defender of the xianzhou and sealer of Scalegorge Valley was now reduced to molting rebirth. You admit you were a bit bitter about how your idol has fallen, however, unlike your coworkers who mocked his fall you stood up for him “The high elder is still to be respected for his past deeds of protecting the loufu for many years ”

However, in contrast, they scoffed “Look at him now condemned to rot away in here”

The preceptors had ordered after molting rebirth that Dan Heng be watched in shackling prison in case of any relapses or signs of resistance as a consequence from his past life's actions.

It was your duty to tell him his past and past sins, despite being de-aged as the new Dan Heng. He was confused and resentful, of his past self for being the reason he was stuck in this place.

You were just one of those assigned to take care him, teach him, and watch if he reawakened his memories or fought back.

Many took their duties as a way to deride him or face the sins of the past he could not remember. A way of taking out their feelings of loss, grief, and hatred for those who died on the day of the tragedy.

_________________________________________________________

However, Baby! Dan Heng is so cute and innocent, how could you hate him?

It is simply common decency to defend him and take care of him. Also, guilt gnaws at you that this is all you can do.

He was still just a child so, you tried to make the cell more comfortable and bring toys to play with, though he didn't seem all too interested. You even brought in a ball to play catch between the bars. But he prefers strategic board games like Go, which despite his young age he often beats you at.

However, he devours any books you bring to occupy his mind. At first ones with bright pictures of planets and expanse skylines each more brilliant than the next.

“Can I go here one day?” He asked all innocence and trust and hope in his voice. Also a tinge of desperation as he pointed to the painted picture of firey volcanos, vast deserts, gorgeous seascapes, and blue-filled skys.

“I’ll see the sky with you” you pinky promise to the child who was shackled to dwell in prison in eternity. You couldn’t disappoint such hopeful eyes.

"Together?" Transfixed he stared at your eyes recognizing in it a similar color of the sky’s and planets he so longed to see.

“Sky? As if you’ll be lucky to even see something like that after what crimes your predecessor committed" Your fellow wardens laughed at throwing the ripped picture book at his feet a few days later having caught wind of the conversation and determined to bury such hopes

They provoke him to try to get him written up for bad behavior so that he could be committed to the shackling prison forever.

The books you brought in grew more complex as he aged resembling greatly the Dan Feng of the past, which makes the abuse of the wardens worse.

The guards hold back many of his gifts from an anonymous source but you bring them in anyway. Most being complex books and scrolls which he seems to enjoy.

However, it is inevitable you are found out and your superiors are upset at your decision but take it out on Dan Heng.

"They are just hiding under a new form and name, and not a good one at that! Dan Heng is just one letter off Dan Feng" scoffed your fellow warden keeper as he kicked him.

You move quickly to stop them but are held back and forced to watch. Later you file a report that is sure to get them fired but the damage is done.

There is a fire in Dan Heng's eyes that wasn't there before and perhaps it is inevitable what comes next.

______________________________________________________

One day he does break out.

Your fellow guards are broken and bleeding on the floor.

You are frozen in fear wondering what he will do to you after keeping him locked up so long, even though it was only your job.

He was not taught to fight perhaps, though his body remembers or the books you brought him you realize with sudden flash.

“It’s time to fulfill your promise.” He says with a sickly sweet smile and takes you by the arm. Not a child now but a man taller than you now with horns and a spear tipped red with blood by his side.

"Wh-what? " Your voice trembled.

You saw reflected in his eyes is only you. As you realized with dawning horror for so long you were his only sky.

‘Perhaps setting him free would let him let you go?’ Vainly you hoped as you nodded stiffly and opened the cage of the monster with your own shaking hands.

“Time to see the sky together” he reminds you as he drags you out leaving the corpses of your friends behind

You find yourself traveling amongst the stars. Dan Heng's bloody escape leaves bodies in your wake.

A role in aiding and abetting a traitor's escape had resulted in your own exile from the loufu the only home you had ever known.

Huddled in his arms and stuck in embrace on a windy cliff of one such planet to see the stars & skies. You cannot break a cage you created by yourself.

“If only we could make this last forever” hummed Dan Heng as an idle thought but it made your blood turns cold remembering why he had been placed in the shackling prison in the first place .

Imbibitor Lunae's Sedition, Inciting riots, thieving immortality

While you were long-lived were you long-lived enough to make him change his mind once it was set?

And looking up in fear at his serpentine long lived eyes you saw you were the prisoner all along not him.

__________________________________________________________

Extra: All Aboard the Express.

You both board the astral express after many years of wandering.

A couple that had eloped from some sort of trouble smoothly Dan Heng explained. So you shared the same room in the archives where he pored over knowledge gained from the many worlds you had explored.

A volcano planet. A picnic by seaside planet, a windy cliff within the eye of an ever-blowing storm.

He was strong not so easily breakable in the shackling prison, but you were at this point from many fruitless escape attempts, so you simply nodded along with his every explanation.

Maybe one day you would gain the light in your eyes again to plan your escape. However just as quickly he would catch and crush that hope as the hunt sung in veins.

Where could you go with the Hunt following you?

______________________________________________________________

If I changed the ending and story a bit this could probably be blade except ending with you stuck w/ the Stelleron hunters which would be less of an escape option.

However, I feel like it’s more unexpected being Dan Heng, and low key yanderes are with power are interesting.

Plus, I’m on a weird prison kick and not sure did blade go to shackling prison? probably at some point but Dan Heng had him in the card with it and that sort of inspired this fic plus not enough yandere Dan Heng fics.

Probably AU as implied Dan Heng sentenced eternally to shackling prison but a breakout attempt aided by Jing Yuan having readers sneak in information through books & games to trigger Dan Heng's battle memory/powers as Dan Feng.

Since Dan Heng was exiled officially or maybe the breakout was covered up by Jing Yuan since they were friends & Dan Heng was a former high elder.

#honkai star rail #dan heng #male yandere x reader #yandere dan heng #yandere imagines #dan heng x you #honkai dan heng #dan heng il #hsr dan heng #dan heng imbibitor lunae #imbibitor lunae #honkai star rail imagines

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mixedup-sideblog · 1 month

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41 letters…what the fuck.

The charges listed against Peck:

- SA of a person under 16.

- SA by foreign object.

- SA oral.

- SA with use of anaesthesia or controlled substance.

- Using a minor for SA.

- Sending harmful matter.

Drake Bell was sexually tortured by this man when he was only 15 years old and 41 pieces of shit wrote this kind of crap in support of his abuser….

James Marsden:

“I do intend to shed light on the fact that he has learnt his lesson…the earth would fall from the sky before Brian would think about doing something like this again.”

- ahh don’t worry everyone, James is pretty sure he would never drug and r*pe a child again so let’s just let him off on this one!

Taran Killam:

“Brian is fully aware of his misjudgement and takes full responsibility.”

- poor old Brian making that minor misjudgement when he decided to prey on a child, turn him against his father, against his family, isolate him and groom him then repeatedly SA him. Don’t worry he’s stepping up and taking full responsibility!

Joanna Kerns:

“There must have been some extreme situation or temptation exerted upon him.” and “ I would hire him today to work with children.” And "a good man that made a mistake, not a bad man who got caught."

- see that’s all it was poor Brian could not resist the extreme temptation, of course blame the 15 year old victim not the fucking adult, it’s always the same bullshit from these people I swear.

Ron Melendez:

“I also know the young man…I have met his family, seen his behaviour…I saw him pursue a friendship with Brian, maintain their close ties…Brian made a large mistake but it was not his alone.”

- surprise, more victim blaming, more trivialising. A mistake is forgetting to lock your door or putting salt in your tea instead of sugar…repeatedly r*ping a child is not a fucking mistake - it’s a fucking crime!

Tom DeSanto:

“Brian is ashamed and remorseful about his lapse in judgment.” and “ I met Drake…he seemed very fearful of his father and unable to communicate with him whatever sexual issues he was going through”

- again - broken record here but r*ping a child is not a bloody lapse in judgment! And again - victim blaming and suggesting his family were at fault!

Will Freddie:

“I can only reiterate how devastated Brian is and how these past events have forever changed him.”

- well thank god Brian is so devastated that he got caught - poor thing. The threat of prison probably has ‘forever changed him’ but I’m sure his inability to stop himself from SAing kids has done far more significant damage to his victims (and yes I believe he has more than Drake).

Kimmy Robertson:

“An outrageous, overtly gay, over-sexed person…he totally took advantage of Brian’s willingness to help.”

- the amount of victim blaming in these letters, particularly this one, is just astounding. The 15 year old boy took advantage of the 40 something year old man? Do you really truly believe that Kimmy? I’ll say it again for the billionth time - What. The. Fuck.

And this is just the snippet, there are 34 more letters - all I’m sure are variations of the above examples. The fact that we live in a world where these people not only do and get away with this shit all the time but also are supported so wholeheartedly when they’re exposed for doing it, is quite frankly terrifying.

I do not accept - we did not know the extent of what we were defending as an excuse here. You knew the charges it’s even clear in the letters themselves - you know it’s about the SA of a child (a child some of you even knew personally), you decided to disregard them, defend them or downplay them. You are only coming out now with weak-ass apologies because you have to - in reality you never thought those letters would see the light of day outside the court room.

I’m sorry but the amount of victim blaming, trivialising and excusing here is just more proof to be added to the huge pile of evidence that Hollywood is a cesspit, it does not care about victims, it does not care about children.

If anyone is still in doubt about the amount of systemic CSA in Hollywood please go and watch An Open Secret (whole thing is on YouTube)- a movie that they desperately tried to bury but is just as hard hitting as ‘Quiet on Set.’

#drake bell #brian peck #quiet on set #nickelodeon #kimmy robertson #james marsden #taran killam #joanna kerns #ron melendez #Tom DeSanto #Will Freddie #an open secret #drake and josh #dan schneider #hollywood #rant #letters #so off my usual vibe on this blog but I just watched the doc and my blood is boiling #though I guess my first name for it was ranty side blog so I guess it fits

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enyalios-shrine · 8 months

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𝘼𝙧𝙚𝙨 𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙥 101

Hi! I’m Raven (or Ray), and I’ve been an Ares devotee for almost five years now. You want to start worshiping him? Great! Despite what today’s media makes of him - which I will talk about a lot in this post - , he’s actually a very caring, gentle and (dare I say) beginner-friendly deity! In general, a great choice! (Also, this is inspired by another post I saw but forgot to save - so, credits for the idea goes to that person) So, let's get started.

WHO IS ARES? - MODERN MISCONCEPTIONS

Since I’m assuming you already know the broad strokes of who he is (Greek god of war, bloodshed, violent and so forth), this section will be about some of the misconceptions most people have of Him. If you’ve ever consumed any Greek mythology-related media, I’m sure you’ve seen the following caricature: beefy, misogynistic, violent, stupid jerk, rude and always looking for a fight. While, yes, He IS violent (He's the god of war, afterall), that's far from all He has to offer.

Did you know Ares is actually historically a major feminist? That’s probably the first thing to get demystified about Him when you talk to an Ares devotee or worshiper, so I’m not really saying ground-breaking news here, but since a fair amount of people don’t know about it, I thought it was a fair mention. So, let’s get into the actual myths and proofs for this claim:

Ares was the father of and supported the Amazons in battle, a group of female-only warriors and hunters.

He’s one of the only male deities in Greek mythology to not have sexually harassed or raped someone. Yes, even other deities viewed as “nice” such as Apollo and Hermes have done so (I don’t mean any disrespect for those deities here - I’m also an Apollo devotee).

Ares was held in trial for the murder of Halirrhotius, a son of Poseidon, after he raped one of Ares’ daughters, Alkippe. He was acquited of murder by the gods. Remember, back in ancient Greece, women didn’t have ANY rights - raping one was not considered a crime or even frowned upon as far as I'm aware.

One of His epithets is “Ares Gynaikothoina", which means "feasted by women". During a war between the Tegeans and the Spartans, the women of Tegea defended the city from a invasion led by the Spartan king Charilaus. After arming themselves, they defeated the Spartans following an ambush. Among the prisoners was the Spartan king himself. In commemoration, they would hold a feast in honor of Ares, to which only women were invited.

All in all, Ares is protective, just, and encouraging of His children as well as worshipers and devotees. He’s not the piece of shit jock most people think of when you mention His name. Please stop doing my man this dishonor, He deserves so much better.

BASIC INFO

His Roman counterpart is Mars. He’s the son of Zeus and Hera, and his consourt is Aphrodite (even though they’re not officially married). His divine children are Phobos and Deimos (twin daimones/personified spirits of panic and terror, respectively), Harmonia (goddess of harmony and concord), Antero (erote/god of requited love) and Eros (erote/god of carnal love), all which he had with Aphrodite, as well as Drakon of Thebes (a giant serpent), which he apparently had by himself.

As for hero children; Cycnus (a bloody-thirsty men who was murdered by Herakles), Diomedes of Thrace (who had man-eating horses for some reason), Thrax (who founded Thrace), Oenomaus (Greek king of Pisa), and the Amazons (female warriors and hunters as mentioned above).

His symbols and associations are: spears, swords, helmets, armour, dogs, chariots, shields, The Chariot & The Emperor tarot cards, etc.

FESTIVALS AND DAYS

Tuesdays are holy to Ares and are ruled by the planet Mars (again, his Roman counterpart), which means they’re associated with action, energy, strength, and courage, as well as the color red.

As for festivals, He was typically honored with special rites in times of war or just before battles. There were also two annual festivals: one in the town of Geronthrae in ancient Laconia, celebrated only by men, and one in Tagea in Arcadia, celebrated only by women, where His "feasted by women" epithet came from. There's hardly any info on exact dates (from the Attic calendar or not) or info about any other festivals.

SACRED ANIMALS

Serpents

Dogs

Vultures

Woodpecker

Barn owls

Eagle owls

SACRED PLANTS

There’s no plant, flower or tree traditionally associated with Ares, unfortunately, so I’m gonna give a list of my UPG’s. Now, I’m not a witch, so I don’t know about the magical properties of the plants I’m about to list (if you’re a witch and were looking for something like that, my bad). However, I am a florist and have a special interest in floriography, so I assign them to Him based on vibe, meaning, etc.

Amaryllis (Means “Pride”)

Basil (Means “Hate”)

Water hemlock (Means “Death”)

Snapdragon (Means “Presumption”, but I think he just likes the way it looks)

Poppy (Means “Eternal sleep”, but has a long history with wars, being the first kind of flora to start growing in abandoned battlefields that were previously considered infertile)

Nettle (Means “Cruelty”)

Magnolia (Means “Dignity”)

Yarrow (Means “Cure for a broken heart”, and is said to have been used by Achilles to heal his men on the battlefield, which is why the scientific name is “Achillea”)

Ginger (Associated with “Heat”)

Pepper, spices, etc (idk he just gives the vibes)

OFFERINGS & DEVOTIONAL ACTS

Honestly, the only slander Ares should be getting is that He likes edgy teenage boy things. That being said, here's some ideas/suggestions, first for devotional acts and then offerings:

Workout or do any kind of physical activity

Take care of your mental and physical health

Stand up for yourseld and what you believe in

Learn about past wars, battles, and riots

Do things that make you feel badass/brave/empowered

Go to a protest

Work on managing your anger (especially for my fellow BPD havers)

Pet a dog

Honor His children and Aphrodite

For offerings; any kind of meat, especially red

Anything sharp (cool knives or daggers, broken glass, etc)

Bones!!

Halloween decor (I personally have those fake plastic snakes, spiders, and a skull on His altar)

Black coffee, the stronger the better

Any alcohol, but especially whiskey

Anything spicy

WHY WORSHIP ARES? - A PERSONAL RANT

Living in an extremely physically abusive household, I had to know and be acostumed to violence from a very young age. That violence left with many things - BPD and C-PTSD, to name a few - but mostly importantly, it left me only being able to feel one thing: anger.

I was angry at everything. Angry at the world for allowing me to have to live through such a horrible situation, angry at my mom for not standing up for me, angry at my abuser, even angry at myself for not ever trying to fight back or protect myself (though now I realize that was completely out of the question. I was only 8, what could I have done against a man in his 30's that was three times my size?).

That anger didn't go away after I got away from my abuser. If anything, it grew worse. I'd yell, break everything around me, say horrible things to the people I loved - I was a totally different person. I could barely recognize myself. I was an empty shell, filled with absolutely nothing else than the purest form of resentment and wrath, things that had been brewing inside of me since I was a child. I never had the choice to become anything else.

Ares understands violence. He's the god of it. He knows when it's justifiable and when it's not, when it serves a purpose and when it's out of pure malice. He helped me realize that instead of trying to fight against my anger out of the shame it made me feel, I had to embrace it - become one with it. It's a part of me, at the end of the day. I just had to figure out how to control it instead of letting it control me.

He embraced me when I was too disgusted with this ugly side of me to even look in a mirror. I was scared of myself - he wasn't. He's seen worse. I never had someone accept me and all my flaws before, god or otherwise.

That's why it's so upsetting to see the modern depictions so many people have of him. Someone so understanding and loving being defined by the worst parts of Himself, just like I used to do with myself in the past.

Ares is the god of war, war is not the god of Ares.

#hellenic pagan #hellenic polytheism #ares #ares devotee #ares devotion #ares worshiper #ares worship #hellenic polytheist #my posts

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sofasoap · 9 months

Text

First time - part 1

Pairing : Kyle “Gaz” Garrick x F!reader

Summary: years of pinning, you find an excuse to get close to your best friend, Kyle.

Part of Gaz Fest 2023

Warning : M rating. Slight angst. Pinning. Friend to lovers. slight talk about bedroom related stuff.

A/N: Thank you @glitterypirateduck for organising the writing festival!! * cheering *

Enjoy!!

Master list

“Kyle.”

“Mmm?” Sipping on his beer, he answered absentmindedly as he watched their group of friends playing darts, competition heating up.

“Can you take my virginity?”

Gaz nearly choked to death. You sighed and lightly thump his back. You knew it was a bad idea. Before he does anything you probably kill him with a heart attack and choking to death with liquid bread.

It took you weeks of self deliberating with the demons and angels and logic vs heart to summon up the courage to ask your friend.

Your best friend.

Your partner in crime

Your childhood crush.

The (one sided) love of your life.

“You… You want me… “ still coughing away, he pointed at himself , and back at you.

One single strong nod, you averted your eyes downwards, your hand fidgeting with the tumbler glass in your hand, not elaborating more.

Shuffling closer to you as he lowers his voice, “Are you Ok? Someone pressuring you? Who’s the asshole?“ Getting agitated, he stood up from chair, ready to defend your honour. To protect you.

Shaking your head as you take a sip of the strong whisky you decided to order to help you loosen up and gives you a bit more courage to ask him. “No one pressured me Kyle. I promise.”

“Then why–” he opened his mouth, confused and … is that bit of hope? As he stares at you, waiting for an answer.

“I… I am just.. “ You are just sick of people’s judgements. All your other friends and workmates talk enthusiastically about their life and sex lives, and you just felt… left out? You don’t know how to contribute to the conversation, since you don't have any stories of your own. The logical side of you knows it’s silly to think that way. You are not a teenager anymore, why would you care about others opinion or letting the social norms affect you?

Or , deep down, you just want to fit in. Want to be part of the “club.” Or the selfish part of you is just trying to find some sort of excuse, to be intimate with Kyle.

And you are just too scared to declare your love to him, straight on.

You have had a crush on Kyle since the day you met him. His family moved next door to yours when you were five.

You hid behind your mum as his parents stood at your door, introducing themselves. You saw a boy, not much older than you, with short curly hair, standing between them.

The two of you became fast friends. Getting up to all sorts of mischieves around the neighbourhood. He was the brain of the plot and you were the executor of the plan.

You slowly fall for him as you get older. That little butterfly that starts flipping in your stomach every time you see him. His brilliant smile shows his pearly whites every time he sees your face. The way he greets you is always different from his friends, protecting you, entrusting you with his greatest secret. Make you laugh. Comfort you in sadness. How he always prefers to sit beside you at gatherings, and offers to take you home.

Both of your parents thought the two of you will end up together, since how well two of you get along with each other. So did you.

Your heart was totally crushed when he introduced you to his first date, excitedly.

“ I want you to be the first one to meet them. Since you are my best friend.”

The amount of tears that you shredded that night. And the night after. But you put on a brave face, for yourself, for your family, for your friends.

And for him.

You don’t want him to be laden with your worries. You know him too well, even if he doesn’t love you the way you love him, he still cares about you.

Protect you and ready to defend you when he senses a change of mood in you.

Your knight in shining armour.

The brother you have from a different mother. But nothing more.

Reaching out and patting his hand, trying to reassure him and also calming down your own nerves, “I am fine. Well, sort of. But.. I've been thinking lately. I just.. “Shaking your head, “ I just want to experience what it is like, “ To be with you. “There is no one else I trust more than you, to take care of me.”

He frowned as he gripped your hands tight. “I am not going to do it if there’s no love involved.” he insisted. Pressing his lip together, contemplating something before he open his mouth again. “Let's forget about this. You are drunk, sunflower, come on. Let’s get you home.”

You feel like your heart has been shattered again for the second time. By him. That pet name just added to the pain.

“Sunflower?”

“You are like a sunflower!” Kyle smiled. The families were on a camping trip once, and two of you were lying on the field of grass after running around and chasing each other. He sat up, looked down at you with his signature smile, “You brighten up my day, and I am always in a happier mood after I see you!”

Grabbing your bag, you stood up immediately, ready to dash out the pub door, embarrassed. You shouldn’t have asked. Well done, You think to yourself. Now you have totally ruined the friendship. How stupid can you be? There was that little sliver of hope when your mutual friends gave you the nudge and shove;

“You still haven’t told him your feelings?” “Shhhhh shut the hell up!!” you hissed. Clamping their mouth with your hands. “Can you be any louder???”

“You…” your friend swatted your hand away, looking at you as if you had grown a horn on your head, “are you kidding me.. “ they mumbled. “ Look, you know what, just talk to him. You might be surprised.”

You ignore his calls and the way your friends look at you, holding tight onto your jacket and bag as you hold back the tears that threaten to burst the dam. Before you could raise your hand and call for a cab, you felt a hand around your waist, pulling you in.

That familiar warmth. Your once safety net. But now it hurts too much to be so close to him, to feel him.

Because he doesn’t belong to you.

“Kyle.. Let go of me.” whispering, trying to hold yourself together, but you can feel your voice cracking.

“No.” pulling you into his chest, he buried his face into the crook of your neck. “I am sorry.”

“For what?”

“For hurting you.”

Wriggling around to face him, putting your hand on his chest to create a bit of gap between you and him, but keeping your head down, “I should be the one apologising, I shouldn’t have asked you such stupid thing.” your voice barely above a whisper as you try to push yourself out from his embrace. “Let’s just.. I am going home.”

“And not going to hear my answer to your request?”

You froze.

I don't know what this is. but def smut coming next chap. of sort. * blame the three glasses of reds I had * I keep changing my mind what I want to write, from crack to fluff to one shot, and now it's turning into two-part series.

Tag list:

@deadbranch

@kaplerrr

@homicidal-slvt

@voxyin

@lia0-0

@floral-force

@saltofmercury

@siilvan

@rileyslibrarian

@mistydeyes

@okayyadriana

@a-small-writer-in-a-big-world

@jynxmirage

@nrdmssgs @schr-torta @glitterypirateduck @devcica @cumikering @roosterr

@groguspicklejar

@obsolescent @whydoilikewhump

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alcestas-sloboda · 3 months

Text

I see so many reflections today from different people: someone woke up from the explosions, some from a phone call, some woke up and saw hundreds of notifications from different telegram channels. It is still so unimaginably bizarre. I have no ability to put into words the feeling of your world falling apart and we didn’t even understand half of the danger that was surrounding us. We were so damn close to disaster with half of Europe believing that nothing good will come out of it.

Ukrainians didn’t care what Europeans thought though, I personally saw news pieces about "Russia will take control of Kyiv" a lot later, somewhere in May, when Ukrainian military took control over the north of the country. And I’m so eternally grateful to every Ukrainian who made sure that all this "experts" sat in those flashy studios red from guilt. I’m grateful for my life, I’m grateful for our Ukraine. She persist. She is still the love of our lives. She’s hurt and devastated but she lives despite all the attempts to destroy her. Same as us. Somehow still here.

Yet I feel more detached from the western world than ever and I’m so fucking jealous of you all. It’s not even about the rockets or shakheds - somewhere along the lines you accept the fact that you may die in any moment - it’s about normal things like your Twitter feed that doesn’t look like a necrology, military terms that don’t make any sense to you, your city that doesn’t stop everyday to mourn the dead, you don’t feel guilty for trying to live a normal life while your classmate, who wanted to be a director, posts stories from the trenches. All of that and more. I’m not even entitled to my emotions because there always will be someone who says that my country is not suffering enough. I no longer react to comments like this as emotionally as I’ve done before but it is still so bizarre to see stuff like that from people whose countries have always been the one to inflict suffering on others.

I may sound mean or sarcastic or whatever but there is so much negativity inside of us that was put there by people like I’ve mentioned above that it is going to be released from time to time. "Your country shouldn’t exist", "Only 9 thousand killed", "You all are nazis/racist/zionists/any of the -ist terms" - yet you should always react in a constructive way because the moment you let your emotions go, you are the worst person on the planet. But who am I kidding, some people here do believe that we are. There is a thousand bad people with sketchy patches in a 40-million country and suddenly "That’s why I no longer support Ukraine". Well, honey, that means you never did. Because Syrian flags were quickly replaced with Ukrainian ones and just as quickly with Palestinian. It’s not about the "Support the oppressed", it’s "Anything to not feel guilty" because then you’ll find the reason to hate Palestinians, just as you did with us. If only you cared about the problematic shit happening in you country as much as you care about our political and social life.

But there are people who still are there for us. Countries that are still here. We may not say it as often but we are thankful. So very thankful for everything you’ve done and are doing for us. Thank you for hearing us and uplifting our voices.

Recently one of the most beautiful people here have lost her life defending me and you. She was always in my notes, always making sure that we didn’t feel uncomfortable even if she of all the people had all the right to be upfront about her thoughts and feelings. I don’t think I will ever get rid of the feeling of guilt. She was there while I wasn’t. She said to mourn her through anger. Anger towards the oppressor. Anger that should be directed into something useful: donations, sharing info, contacting your MPs and so on.

The soldier‘s death is not something out of ordinary during the war, it’s not considered a war crime but what if half of the army are civilians? Volunteers who left their homes to protect them. What if the soldier was a teacher, a poet, an actor, an IT-specialist, a scientist, what then? Isn’t it a tragedy? My country is loosing yet another generation of beautiful talented people and it makes my view of the future even darker.

But what can I say? I’m still here. My country still stands. Ukrainian air defence is doing everything possible and impossible to protect the lives of the civilians. Ukrainian military is still the only thing keeping us all alive. Heroes, titans, gods. Glory to them. Eternal glory to those who lost their lives defending Ukraine.

To Ukrainians: якось буде, прорвемся.

#reflection I guess

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normspellsman · 1 year

Text

To Be Forgiven

part one | part two | part three | part four (wip)

pairing: ao’nung x fem!sully!reader, bff!tsireya x bff!reader, & mentions of lo’ak x tsireya

genre: angst (lo’ak still hasn’t apologized yet), comfort (from tsireya to reader), & fluff

word count: 4k+

warning(s): mentions of lo’ak & ao’nung physically fighting, mentions of lo’ak being a douche to reader, neteyam + tsireya beating (not literally disappointing i know) some sense into lo’ak, cursing, reader thinking lo’ak was right about her (ifykyk – read part one if you don’t), mentions of blood + injury, lo’ak in deep shit that he won’t be able to get out of, slight mention of lo’ak having self loathing thoughts, lo’ak feeling guilty for what he said, & mentions of ao’nung defending your ‘honor’

taglist: @aonungsmate @optimisticblazetrash @dearstell

word bank: eywa / great mother — goddess deity that the na’vi believe in, tsmuke(s) — sister(s), irayo — thank you; thanks, skxawng — moron; idiot, ilu — aquatic creature residing on awa’atlu used for riding + hunting, & txe’lan — heart

note: so i lied, this series is probably going to be three or more parts 🫣. enjoy tho! <3 we stan tsireya in this fic frfr

He was fucked. Lo’ak was royally screwed.

He knew the minute that those degrading words came out of his mouth that he was severely fucked.

He could say he didn’t mean it in the moment, but he did. He knew he did. And that’s why he knew he was going to get a new one ripped into him by his older brother and girlfriend once they found out, but not before Ao’nung nearly beat him to a darker shade of blue and purple.

Both Lo’ak and Ao’nung had left your secret hideout with multiple bruises and blood running down their noses. The boys had shown each other the extent of their frustrations towards one another, yet again. But this time, it was over you.

The two boys walked home silently and limping, washing themselves off in the sea before making their way into their separate marui pods.

Lo’ak had prayed to Eywa that none of your siblings were awake by the time he arrived at the pod, but alas, it seems as if the world is not on his side, once again.

“What the fuck happened to you?” A groggy voice asked, making Lo’ak stop in his tracks and wince at getting caught.

Yep. He was going to get his ass handed back to the Great Mother tonight. He could only pray for a safe return into the deities arms as he turned towards his older brother.

The familiar scowl Lo’ak always saw on Neteyam had painted itself on to his face, eyes narrowing at the various injuries on his skin.

“What did you do?” Neteyam harshly whispered out, striding towards his idiotic younger brother, pulling on the boys ear as he guided him towards one corner of the marui where they kept all healing essentials and forced him to sit down, tsking at him as he did so.

Lo’ak yelped in pain once his older brothers slim fingers pinched the soft skin of his sensitive ear, leaning into the grasp in hopes of easing the pain by a fraction. He rubbed the spot his brother was pinching once he was pushed into his bottom side to sit, pouting at Neteyam’s roughness.

“It’s nearly sunrise and you manage to get yourself into trouble, again!” The elder hissed out, mumbling to himself about how careless and utterly idiotic his younger brother was, shaking his head at his whispers. Always taking care of this skxawng, he thinks, annoyance settling itself in his chest.

Lo’ak decides not to say anything, knowing that if he were to open his mouth and speak, he wouldn’t stop and end up confessing to his crimes due to guilt. He didn’t want to die just yet. He needed time to figure out how he was going to make it up to you and get you to forgive him for the stupid words he spat at you in anger.

Being twins had come with its advantages and disadvantages. Firstly, it was a rarity amongst the Na’vi that it was considered a myth or even a sacred omen, many praising Lo’ak and you after your births and even during the day as you two grew older. Much lore surrounded twins within the Na’vi culture, most of it being just that, lore and myths, little truth behind any of it. So due to this, the Omatikaya practically worshipped the ground the both of you walked on when you were younger, receiving many gifts and prayers to Eywa as a token of their gratitude for gracing them with your presence. But all of this was put to a stop by your Grandmother, Mo’at, once she realized this. She didn’t want all the attention to go to your heads, especially your brothers. Secondly, the both of you were so in tune with each other’s emotion that it was freaky to see you finish each other’s sentences, give the other needed comfort, and see you move together in sync. This proved to be advantageous during training or scouting, one of you following the other and tag teaming whatever came your way. And thirdly, you were the eldest twin, the first born. So you always held it over Lo’ak’s head whenever granted the chance, annoying the boy to no end.

Lo’ak loved you dearly. So much that it was often hard to express or put into words. You were his other half. The other part of his soul. So he knew just how much his words had impacted you. He could feel it. Feel the cold, bitterness of sadness rest atop his chest, right where his heart laid. He felt so guilty. He just wanted to take back the words he said, but he knew it wasn’t possible. He was going to have to work for your forgiveness.

“Sit still and be quiet,” Neteyam mumbled as he sat in front of his younger brother and dipped his fingers into the cream white healing paste Kiri had made a couple days back, lathering it onto Lo’ak bruises and open wounds.

Lo’ak bit back his tongue in pain, wanting to hiss out at the coldness of the paste and the rough application of it. He could tell that Neteyam wasn’t very happy with him. And he was going to be absolutely livid once he found out the truth behind his wounds.

He wished sunrise never came.

———

When you left Lo’ak and Ao’nung to their own devices last night, you made way to another spot of yours that only you, your sisters, and Tsireya knew about. The four of you often came to it to have some girl time and gossip about whatever was going on in either of your lives or just to be in each other's presence and braid another’s hair. It was a bit of a ways away, so you called upon your ilu to take you there.

Once you reached the seemingly tiny island, you noticed another body sitting in the sand, fiddling with something in their hands.

You’d come to quickly realize that it was Tsireya who was on the island, finishing up the bracelet she had promised to make Tuk just last night.

“Hey,” she softly said, turning her head around slightly to glance at your figure, sensing your presence behind her.

You shot a small smile towards the girl before sitting down next to her, bringing your legs close to your chest as you sighed out the breath you seemed to be holding in ever since you left Lo’ak and Ao’nung.

“What’s wrong?” Tsireya asked, concern laced in her voice and evident on her face.

The Metkayina girl had a knack of knowing if something was wrong with you, creeping you out a bit when you first started to get to know her. It was how she found out you and her brother were seeing each other. She practically pried it out of you, squealing in delight once she got you to utter the confirming words, hugging you and excitedly exclaiming that you were going to be tsmukes and how she was glad you were going to be the one.

Tsireya’s question brought a frown to your face, water beginning to pool at your waterlines. Eywa, how you did not want to cry in front of your best friend and boyfriend's sister.

“It is fine if you do not want to tell me, tsmuke,” she reassured, putting one of her four fingered hands onto your back, softly rubbing it up and down in comfort, “I will be here whenever you are ready to say it.”.

Her words were the tipping point and you found yourself sobbing into the sweet girls arms, wrapping around your shaking form as she tried to comfort you the best she could.

“Was it my brother?” She asks, her tone serious and flat. If it was, she wasn’t going to hesitate to smack some sense into her brother. You’re one of her dearest friends and she’d hate to see her skxawng of a brother be one of the reasons you cried.

You shook your head at her question, swallowing down another sob that tried to crawl its way up your throat.

You could only imagine what your brother and beloved were doing to each other in the dark of your hidden spot. Punches were definitely being thrown and insults were most likely being shouted at one another. You felt bad for leaving but at the same time, you needed to leave. To get away from your brother and his angry gaze and hurtful words. You needed time to think and process.

“It was mine,” you reply, reluctantly pulling yourself out of Tsireya’s comforting embrace. If you didn’t, you knew you’d only further continue to sob into her arms and barely get any words out in an attempt to answer any of the questions she asked you.

Tsireya frowned at your words, beginning to worry about what he did to make you this upset.

She knew the kind of relationship and connection the two of you had. That’s what she loved about the both of you. You always followed each other around like lost puppies and rarely ever fought, only arguing over stupid things like who got the last yovo fruit or whose turn it was for Tsireya to teach. So seeing you this distraught over something your twin brother did, had the girl extremely worried.

“What did he do?” She questioned, pointed ears tipping towards your frame in anticipation to hear your answer.

You explained to her what happened. How you and Ao’nung were spending time together. How Lo’ak managed to stumble upon Ao’nung feverishly kissing your neck. And the kinds of words Lo’ak spat at you and how they made you feel.

To say the least, Tsireya was pissed at her moron boyfriend.

“I hope Ao’nung beats the shit out of him,” she mumbled, tone angry and harsh as it came out.

You managed to chuckle at her response, stopping your crying momentarily. Tsireya joined you in your short chuckle, giggling to herself.

“I’m serious though, (Y/N). I hope he beats some sense into him,” she added, bringing you into a hug, gently stroking your braided hair. “He shouldn’t have said those words to you. There’s no excuse. There’s no truth behind it, my tsmuke. You are not what he says you are for seeing my brother,” she finished.

You only hum in response. Your head couldn’t help but think that a part of his words were true. Why were you seeing someone that was known for bullying you and your siblings? Why did you feel for him the way you did? Was it because you were what Lo’ak said you were?

Tsireya’s voice pulled you from your thoughts as she laid both of her hands gently onto your damp cheeks, making you look at her as she spoke, “I am serious. You are not a slut for seeing Ao’nung. Yes he may have done some questionable things in the past that aren't excusable. But you have made him a better person. You changed him for the better,”.

Her words bring another wave of tears to your eyes as they run down your nearly raw cheeks. Her words make you feel a bit better about what Lo’ak said prior.

You smiled at your friend before bringing your forehead to hers, both of them resting against each other.

“Irayo,” you replied, truly thankful to have someone like Tsireya in your life.

“Anytime, tsmuke,” she answered back, her dimpled smile spreading across her lips as she did so.

———

“You stupid, stupid boy!” A familiar voice yelled out from outside of the Sullys marui pod.

Lo’ak froze.

Shit, he thought, I’m going to die by the hands of my girlfriend. Fuck.

The teen boy stood still in his tracks, dreading the moment he’d have to turn around.

It was barely sunrise and Tsireya was already out for blood. His specifically.

“Hello, my love,” Lo’ak tried to milk out, hoping she’d melt at the nickname he gave her early on within their relationship.

But all she did was scoff, “Seriously, my love? How dense do you think I am, Lo’ak?”.

To be frank, Lo’ak had a feeling that you’d tell Tsireya about what happened or Ao’nung would, making his stomach twist in anxiety at the thought. He was right though. You told Tsireya of the events that occurred only hours prior and now he was going to feel the wrath of your best friend and his girlfriend.

“Look, Reya, I can explain,” he tried to rush out, pleading with her to at least listen to what he has to say. But she was having none of it.

“No, Lo’ak. You will not. Did you know your sister cried in my arms until sunrise?” She spat, anger clearly evident in her tone and body language, wide tail swishing to and fro behind her.

Lo’ak swore he saw his life flash before his eyes at his lover's harsh tone and deadly glare directed towards him. Tsireya was never the one to resort to violence or anger, believing that killing them with kindness worked best. So seeing her practically growling at him and very much angry made him want to crawl into a ball and cry.

“Oh, right. You wouldn’t know because you were the reason she was crying in the first place!” The girl continued, more angry at her boyfriend's attempt at trying to get her to hear him out.

She knew that what he said was completely wrong. No brother should ever call their sister that, no matter how angry. Ao’nung would never, had never. At this moment, Tsireya found herself thanking the Great Mother for giving her a brother like Ao’nung. One who treated her with respect and would never spit out degrading words like that to her.

The poor girl was shaking in anger, an emotion she rarely ever felt or expressed.

Before Lo’ak could utter another word, another voice chimed into their conversation.

“Trouble in paradise you two?” Neteyam asked, a playful smirk etched into his lips as he leaned against one of the many open arch ways of his family’s marui.

Neteyam had been rousing from his slumber when he heard Tsireya’s loud hissing, curious as to what was the cause of it. He’d say he’s not surprised that it was directed at his younger brother. Lo’ak had a tendency to cause that kind of reaction from people wherever he went.

The younger brother groaned out in annoyance, not wanting his brother to get into the middle of his and Tsireya’s conversation.

“I’m glad you’re here, Neteyam. Maybe your presence will smack some sense into your brothers thick skull,” Tsireya spat out, never taking her glaring gaze off of Lo’ak.

The smirk on Neteyam’s lips fell, his usual frown overtaking it. “What do you mean? What did you do, Lo’ak?” He asked, now standing upright, full attention on his brother.

Lo’ak ears drew back to press up against his head and his tail curled itself between his legs, a telltale sign that he fucked up big time.

“I…I caught (Y/N) with Ao’nung last night,” he mumbled, barely loud enough for Neteyam to hear.

Neteyam had a sneaking suspicion that you and the Metkayina boy were seeing each other behind their backs. Sure the realization hurt but it was your love life and if you weren’t ready to tell your family that you were seeing someone, then it’s your choice. It’s not like you were a child who couldn’t comprehend consequences or make your own choices. You were a woman and were allowed to make whatever decision you thought fit for yourself.

The older boy blankly stared at the younger, not seeing a problem in what he just said.

It was then that Lo’ak realized Neteyam knew about your relationship and that Tsireya most likely did as well. A new sense of anger crawling its way up his stomach. Why couldn’t you tell him? Why did they know and he didn’t?

“And…” Tsireya urged him on, losing her patience with the Omatikaya boy.

“And…” Lo’ak continued, avoiding eye contact with both teens and looking down at the soft sand beneath his feet, “I called her some…things as a result.”.

“Things?!” Tsireya scoffed, clearly over her boyfriend's tiptoeing over the actual truth, “You called her a slut, Lo’ak. For seeing my brother.”.

The growl that left Neteyam’s throat made Lo’ak shrink in on himself in cowardice, still refusing to meet his brother's gaze.

“You skxawng!” He shouted, pushing at Lo’ak’s shoulder, making him stagger back, “You’re an imbecile! Why would you call her that?”.

Lo’ak growled back at his brother in retaliation, anger getting the best of him.

“I was angry! I wasn’t thinking straight,” he hissed out, fists clenched into balls by his side.

Neteyam scoffed, “Clearly. You never do, Lo’ak! All you do is talk but never think. Look at where thats gotten you now!”.

Lo’ak wanted to pounce on his brother and punch him in the face, repeatedly. But he knew it wouldn’t get him anywhere, especially after last night. It wouldn’t solve that sadness you felt nor the anger he harbored. So, he just bit his tongue in hopes that the pain would distract him from his impulsive thoughts to bury his fist into his older brothers face.

“You really hurt her, Lo’ak,” Tsireya spoke out, voice becoming soft again as some of the anger dissipated over the course of their conversation. She was still mad at him but it started to seem like Lo’ak was beginning to finally understand the weight of his words.

“She cried so hard in my arms that she fell asleep. I had Rotxo help me carry her to my marui so she could sleep peacefully,” she continued, catching Lo’ak’s eyes shift from the sandy floor to her, concern creeping on to his features, “She told me how sad your words made her feel. How she thought they were true.”.

That made Lo’ak’s heart break into a million different pieces. You thought that you were a slut? That he truly meant his words? Oh, Eywa. He really did fuck up.

“We know that you didn’t mean it. She knows. But, Lo’ak, your words have an impact on people and they made a significant one on (Y/N) last night,” Tsireya adds on, gently approaching Lo’ak as she took one of his hands into hers and put the other on his cheek, making him look at her, “You need to make it up to her. You need to tell her that there was no truth behind your words and that you were a skxawng for saying them. She needs to hear your apologies from you.”.

The anger Lo’ak once felt disappeared, guilt replacing it.

He was so stupid. Such an awful brother. He should’ve never said those things to you. He should’ve walked away from you and Ao’nung to collect his thoughts instead of insulting you and beating your boyfriend. He felt terrible. But he deserved it. He should feel terrible for all the pain he caused you with his words.

How was he going to make it up to you?

———

You awoke to a body shifting behind you, bringing you closer to their chest as their arms gripped you tighter.

“Morning, yawne,” a deep and familiar voice groggily said.

You smiled at the voice, immediately recognizing that it was your boyfriend who had you in his arms, just like last night.

“Morning, Ao’nung,” you whispered back, getting comfortable in your boyfriend's warm embrace.

Ao’nung never failed at lifting up your mood and making you feel better. It was his speciality. Just one look at his adorably stupid face and everything in life seemed so much better, more brighter.

The boy had only gotten back from his fiasco with Lo’ak when he realized you were fast asleep in his bed, laying on your side as you brought up the thin sheet he always slept with to your chin. His sister had explained to him why you were in there, feeling even more anger towards your twin. He hated seeing you like this. He wished he could take all your pain and awful thoughts away and transfer them to himself so you wouldn’t have to suffer anymore.

“I love you, Ma (Y/N),” Ao’nung mumbled against your skin, burying his face into the space between your shoulder and neck.

You giggled at the tickle of breath against your skin, recoiling a bit from the sensation. You turned around to face your lover to combat the ticklish sensation, coming face to face with Ao’nung.

Your eyes widened and jaw dropped when you saw the state of his face.

Ao’nung saw the grimace on your face and gently took your hands in his and kissed each knuckle. He knew fighting with your brother wasn’t the smartest idea and would most definitely end up with him receiving a few scowls from you in return.

“Did Lo’ak do this?” You softly questioned, afraid to speak too loudly in fear that it would bring unwanted attention from his parents.

They had been proud of their only son for no longer picking fights with Toruk Makto’s son and you didn’t want to ruin that by yelling at or reprimanding him for it. You suppose this situation wouldn’t count though. He had defended you against your brother, basically fighting for your honor. It was different.

Ao’nung only hummed in response, placing your palms against his warm and bruised cheeks.

Tsireya had seen to his injuries when he came limping into the marui. She and Rotxo had just gotten you situated into bed when he arrived. She scowled at him for fighting with Lo’ak, but praised him for defending you. She was proud of her brother for being a good partner but was disappointed at hers for saying such cruel words to you.

Your heart broke at his confirmation, though it didn’t come as a surprise. You knew what was going to happen if you left the two boys to deal with the situation themselves but you couldn’t bring yourself to stay there any longer. You needed some space from your brother.

You opened your mouth to apologize, feeling guilty for leaving Ao’nung to handle your twin by himself but he stopped you before you could, placing a soft kiss against your lips.

“It is not you who needs to apologize, my txe’lan” he says, reading you like a book, “It is your skxawng of a brother who needs to.”.

You chuckled lightly at his words, bringing your lover closer into your frame as your hands continued to rest against his cheeks.

“He’s stubborn,” you reply, slightly doubting your brothers ability to apologize first.

For a majority of your shared childhood with Lo’ak, he rarely apologized for his actions. You could count on one hand the amount of times he’s genuinely apologized to you. All of the forced and half assed ones don’t count in your book.

“He’ll come around. He has to,” Ao’nung retorted, resting his forehead against yours.

Although he too doubted Lo’ak ability to apologize first, you were just as stubborn, if not more, than your twin. He knew you’d do any and everything in your ability to ignore Lo’ak until he came to his senses and gave you a genuine apology he actually meant. That’s another thing he loved about you. You refused to have anyone walk over you, including family.

“I hope so,” you sadly replied, a small frown painted onto your lips.

Your response made Ao’nung copy your frown, feeling guilty for the kind of brother you had. Albeit Lo’ak not meaning his words and being careless with them and his actions, they still had an impact on those around him. He just hopes that he comes to his senses sooner rather than later.

“Wanna go for a swim?” Ao’nung questions, trying to lift up your saddened mood.

Swimming and exploring with Ao’nung is something you always enjoyed, finding peace in his presence and joy in doing something relatively new, even if you’ve been on Awa’atlu for months now. So you nodded at his question, happily pulling your boyfriend up to his feet and out towards the beach.

No matter what, you knew that Ao’nung would do everything in his ability to make you happy for as long as you were together. And you hoped that even with this small bump in your long, adventurous road together, that it would be forever.

If only Lo’ak could see that. If only he understood.

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