#it’s numbness and fury and heartbreak all at once

[summerlinenss]

david jenkins only ever wanted 3 seasons.

3 seasons to tell their story.

and even after slashing their budget nearly in half, making them cut the amount of episodes and their runtimes, and having to cut out and rewrite entire storylines, that still wasn’t enough.

fuck you, david zaslav.

[kindasleepywriter]

Bird of Prey - Chapter 13: Crash Landing

Bird of Prey masterlist. Azriel x Fem!Reader.

Chapter summary: On the run from the Night court, injured and alone, you wonder if there's a point to all this suffering.

Story rating: Mature - Minors DNI

Warnings: Graphic injury, implications of previous possible dubcon, suicidal ideation. (Also this is unedited but ill do that asap)

Word count: 0.7k

Prev | Next

In the middle of winter, the winds of the Night court felt more like knives than they did a soft caress. Perhaps straining your left wing almost immediately after ascending over the large expanse of trees had had a role to play in your torture, but you couldn’t think of anything other than the pain as you struggled over the border towards Day, barely managing to glide over the divide between the two courts.

Unsteady flight patterns had you tumbling down through the treetops barely a few hundred feet past that point. The loud cracks of the snapping branches and the rustling of the pine trees engulfed you, so loud that you couldn’t hear your own exclamations of pain going down.

Curled around yourself on the forest’s icy floor, surrounded by the debris you’d taken down with you in your fall and the feathers you’d ripped out in the process, is where you finally yell apart. You laid there for hours, quietly sobbing as you tried to convince yourself to get up, get up, but you couldn’t, not until light began to sweep over your position.

Everything came crashing down on you in waves, the reality of the situation, and you couldn’t make heads or tails of it. Why couldn’t any of it make sense?

Azriel. He’d hated you at first, that you were sure of. He had no reason to trust you or help you, and you had only given him reasons to dislike you even more. You hadn’t been kind, but neither had he, not until... until after the study, when he had seen you burn the doorknob. Not until after Feyre saw through your memories.

Not until you became a tool, one they might be able to wield… if they gained your trust.

Gods, it hurt to think that all of what happened between you and Azriel might’ve just been an act, but the pieces all fit together like building blocks, one by one. It explained why he had suddenly found it in him to care for you, how he used your own weaknesses against you.

Fury and heartbreak tore through you, and that’s when you had started screaming in pure anguish through your sobs. You hadn’t admitted it, not out loud, but he must’ve known, known that you loved him. How easily you had fallen too, how little he had to show before you betrayed your instincts for him, your centuries of knowledge. As easily as a leaf falls in autumn at the slightest breeze, you thought bitterly.

But why would Azriel go after you, even when Rhysand held him back? Were they still hoping you would change your mind, that you would come running back? Your head kept spinning in circles until you didn’t have any more tears left to cry, until your throat felt as tight as a vice.

By that time, in the early morning sun, only numbness was left in you. There was no more fire left to burn, no more hatred towards those who used you, you’d spent it all. The only embers left had turned against you. Once more, you had been played for a fool.

You’d picked yourself up at the first sign of light despite your injuries, wings lacerated deeply and at least a few ribs broken, and dragged yourself into the first cave you found, uncaring of any danger that may be lurking in within. Maybe that would be a more comforting ending, you thought. Putting yourself at the mercy of nature, your only true friend, was a poetic way to go. No more betrayal, no more cruelty, only the Mother’s sweet embrace.

You shuffled to the farthest wall you could reach and curled down on the cold floor once more, your wings oozing blood at an unsteady rate. Unconsciousness settled over you comfortably, a blanket of death draping over you in a final moment of peace. You hoped it was over.

Today is a day of suffering, it would seem. Almost ready to post the next chapter, it'll be posted somewhere in the next 7 days!

Banner created by the amazing @saradika!

Taglist: @sapphenaa @minnieoo @weasleyreidstyles @anuttellaa @acourtofdreamsandshadows @fightmedraco @some-person-somewhere

[marinawolf]

Please Come Back (Supercorp)

by marinawolf

Lena Luthor villain arc with tragedy. Sad, angsty. Kinda painful tbh. (Trying out something new- I'm sorry.)

tw: death

As Lena stood frozen in her office, Lex's revelation echoed through her mind like a relentless scream.

"Kara Danvers is Supergirl."

The anger that surged within Lena was more than just a fiery blaze; it was a consuming inferno, tearing through her with a ferocity she had never known. It was a primal, gut-wrenching rage that threatened to consume her from the inside out. How could Kara, the person Lena had trusted above all others, the one she had poured her heart and soul into, deceive her so completely? Every memory they shared, every whispered secret, every stolen glance and lingering touch now felt like shards of glass slicing into Lena's heart.

Betrayal twisted like a knife in Lena's gut, a relentless, gnawing ache that refused to be ignored. She had let Kara in, allowed herself to believe in their connection, their bond, only to have it all ripped away in an instant.

Lena's fists clenched so tightly that her nails dug deep into her palms, drawing blood that went unnoticed.

And beneath the anger, beneath the seething fury that threatened to consume her whole, lay something even more agonizing: the crushing weight of her own foolishness.

She allowed herself to fall in love with Kara.

Lena had fallen for Kara, fallen so deeply and so irrevocably that it sometimes felt like she was drowning. She had trusted Kara with everything she had, given her heart without reservation, only to be repaid with deceit and betrayal.

Kara had played her for a fool, spinning her web of lies with practiced ease while Lena foolishly danced to her tune. And now, as the truth lay bare before her, Lena felt a cold, numbing emptiness settle over her. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes, but Lena refused to let them fall. She would not give Kara the satisfaction of her tears, of witnessing the devastation she had wrought.

In that moment, Lena felt as though she had been hollowed out, stripped bare of everything she once held dear.

Kara Danvers had torn her apart. She had shattered Lena's heart into a million irreparable pieces, and there was no going back.

Did Kara not trust her? Did she see Lena as nothing more than a Luthor, tainted by the sins of her family name?

Was that what Kara thought her to be? A villain, unworthy of trust or redemption? If that's how Kara saw her, then perhaps it was time Lena embraced that role fully. She had tried to rise above the shadow of her family's legacy, to prove herself worthy of Kara's faith and, someday, her love. But if Kara couldn't see past the Luthor name, then perhaps Lena should stop pretending to be anything other than what she was: a Luthor, tainted by blood and betrayal.

The bitterness of the realization tasted like poison on Lena's tongue. She had loved Kara, secretly, fiercely, with a devotion that bordered on obsession. And now, as she stood on the precipice of darkness, Lena's heartbreak threatened to consume her whole.

Every word, every touch, every stolen glance between them replayed in Lena's mind like a cruel mockery of what could never be. She had allowed herself to dream of a future with Kara, to imagine a life where they could be together. But those dreams lay shattered at Lena's feet.

What a fool.

If Kara saw her as a villain, then a villain she would be.

--

The soft click of the door opening drew Lena's attention to Kara breezing into her office. Lena's heart leapt at the sight, as it always did.

Dressed in a button-up shirt, her glasses hiding those piercing blue eyes, Kara brought with her the bashfulness and innocence that once brightened Lena's day. But now, every glance at Kara was a stab to her heart. She knew that beneath that facade lay a web of lies, woven with expert precision by Kara herself. How could Lena have been so blind, so foolish to trust someone who had manipulated her with such ease? How could she have missed the signs? How could she have failed to see the truth that was staring her right in the face?

But Lena knew the answer. It was because she wanted to believe in Kara. She had allowed herself to be lulled into a false sense of security, to fall in love, only to be betrayed in the cruelest of ways. And now, as Kara stood before her, Lena couldn't help but feel a pang of anger at the realization of how thoroughly she had been played.

Kara held a takeout bag in her hands, a small smile playing at her lips as she met Lena's gaze. She looked so beautiful it almost hurt, and Lena couldn't help but feel a pang of longing deep within her chest. For a moment, she allowed herself to imagine what could have been, if she hadn't learned the truth. They would settle on the couch in Lena's office, laughing and talking while eating the grossly unhealthy takeout that Kara would have surely brought. Lena would have been happy. Content.

But those thoughts were nothing more than a cruel fantasy. She couldn't allow herself to forget the lies, the deceit that had woven its way through every moment of their relationship. Kara was a liar, and Lena couldn't bear to look at her now without feeling like a fool.

This wasn't the Kara she thought she knew. This wasn't the friend she had trusted with her deepest secrets. This wasn't the woman she had stupidly fallen in love with. This was a stranger, wearing Kara's face like a mask, hiding the true extent of her deception behind a facade of innocence and charm. Lena wanted to applaud Kara's charade.

Now, there would be no lunch, no laughter, no friendship between them. Not when it had all been built on a foundation of lies. She couldn't keep up the pretense any longer.

"Supergirl," Lena's voice cut through the air like a blade, her tone sharp and cold. She watched as Kara's smile faltered

"Supergirl? Where?" Kara's attempt to deflect, to keep up the lie was almost laughable.

"Please. Stop lying to me," Lena whispered.

Panic flashed across Kara's face, her eyes wide with fear, and Lena felt a fleeting satisfaction.

"You've been lying to me since day one, Kara. You shattered every defense I ever had, and it was all a lie. Even after I confided in you about how everyone I ever cared about betrayed me, you still did this. Was it amusing? To play games with a Luthor? Because evidently, I'm not deserving of your honesty, of your trust."

As Kara reached out, her hand trembling, Lena recoiled. Oh how she once craved that touch.

"Lena, please. Let me explain."

"Explain what?" Lena's voice cracked with anguish, her eyes clouded with unshed tears. "That in your eyes, I'm just another villain to be manipulated? I understand, Kara. I've been nothing more than a fool to you."

"God, Lena. No. You mean everything to me." Kara's voice shook with emotion, and Lena wondered how much of it was an act. "At first, I wanted to protect you from that part of my life. And then, we got closer, so close, and I just didn't know how to tell you without destroying everything. I didn't want to lose you."

Lena refused to listen to Kara's excuses, refused to allow herself to be manipulated any longer.

"Stop this charade, Kara. You've been lying to me, mocking our friendship, even after I shared my deepest wounds with you. I never imagined you would betray me too."

As Kara stepped toward her, tears streaming down her face, Lena's heart hardened with resentment. Were her tears merely another performance in Kara's elaborate deception?

"Don't," Lena's voice trembled. "This friendship, us, it's over. You don't trust me. I'm just a Luthor, right? An evil, calculating Luthor. So be it."

Kara's tears fell like rain, but Lena remained unmoved by their false sincerity. "Lena, please. I'm so sorry. I never meant--"

"No, Kara. Just go. Please. I can't do this. I can't bear to look at you," Lena's voice trembled with the effort to hold back her tears as Kara turned and left, leaving Lena alone.

And finally, Lena allowed herself to cry.

---

two months later

Lena's footsteps echoed through the fortress, her heart pounding in her chest. She had one mission—to steal Myriad. It was a crucial component of Project Non Nocere, her collaboration with her brother, and she couldn't afford to fail. Despite the dangers of working with Lex, his vision made sense to her. At least he didn't deceive her, unlike others.

The promises of peace and control that Lex offered beckoned to Lena. The belief that humanity's flaws, their inclination toward deceit and manipulation, were at the root of all conflict made sense to Lena. In her eyes, people lied, schemed, and betrayed each other, perpetuating a cycle of suffering. She and Lex were in agreement on this fundamental truth. And she knew how to stop it.

As Lena approached her objective, she steeled herself for the confrontation she knew would come. Supergirl would undoubtedly arrive to stop her, but Lena was prepared. She had a plan to neutralize her adversary. And that is what Supergirl had become- her adversary.

When Kara finally appeared, confusion and hurt etched upon her face, Lena's resolve wavered for an instant but those eyes also fueled the fire of Lena's determination, pushing her to carry out her mission.

With trembling hands, Lena activated the trap she had meticulously prepared. The mechanism sprang to life, encasing Kara in a prison of kryptonite. Lena winced at the sight of Kara weakened, the pain of her actions a dagger in her soul. But she knew she had to see this through, for the greater good—or so she told herself. It still pained her to see Kara weakened, to be the cause of her suffering, but she knew it was necessary.

"Lena, why are you doing this?" Kara's voice, weakened by the kryptonite's effects, pierced through the air.

"Because I'm a villain, remember?"

A part of Lena wanted to rush to Kara's side, to gather her into her arms, but she steeled herself.

Another part of her wanted to leave Kara in that trap, as Lex had advised her to do- but she couldn't do that either. Despite everything, despite the betrayal, she couldn't bring herself to truly inflict harm upon Kara. So Lena deactivated the trap, allowing Supergirl to collapse to the floor, weakened but alive as she left the fortress.

--

Some time later, at the Mount Norquay Bunker

Lena stood next to Lex, poised to set their nefarious plan into motion when the DEO burst through the doors, led by Supergirl. Lena's heart leapt at the sight, despite everything. She couldn't stop her heart from reacting to Kara, no matter how hard she tried.

Lex's expression twisted in disbelief as he laid eyes on the seemingly invincible Supergirl. His shock quickly morphed into rage, his eyes blazing with fury as he directed his anger towards Lena.

"You couldn't even take care of her, sister?" Lex's voice dripped with scorn, his disappointment palpable.

"I couldn't do it," she confessed, her voice barely a whisper.

Before Lena could comprehend what was happening, Lex seized a kryptonite weapon, aiming it directly at her. Shock surged through Lena as she realized she was being used as a shield against Supergirl.

A cold chill swept through the bunker as Lex issued his chilling ultimatum. "Take another step, Supergirl, and I'll kill her," he threatened, his voice dripping with malice.

Supergirl froze, her hands raised in a gesture of surrender, her eyes pleading with Lex to release Lena. "Let her go, Lex. It's all over," she implored, her voice tinged with desperation.

But Lex's resolve remained unyielding. "It's not over until I say it is," he declared, his finger tightening on the trigger.

Lena closed her eyes, bracing herself for the inevitable, accepting her fate. She deserved this. But when she opened them, she was met with a sight that shattered her to the core.

Kara had intercepted the bullet meant for Lena, her body absorbing the deadly impact of the kryptonite. Time seemed to stand still as Kara collapsed to the ground, her chest pierced by the lethal projectile.

A strangled cry tore from Lena's throat as she watched Kara fall. She stumbled forward, reaching out to Kara as the DEO agents moved swiftly to apprehend Lex, their actions a blur of motion in the chaos.

Lex's laughter echoed through the bunker, a twisted symphony of triumph and madness. "Well, at least you weakened her, sister," he taunted Lena, his words like poison on her ears.

Lena's mind reeled as she knelt beside Kara's prone form, her hands trembling as she reached out to touch her. "What have I done?" she whispered, her voice choked with anguish and regret.

Tears streamed down Lena's cheeks as she cradled Kara's head in her lap, "I'm so sorry, Kara. I'm so sorry," she sobbed, her words a desperate plea for forgiveness.

Kara's hand weakly reached for Lena's face, her touch fading as her strength waned. "Lena," she whispered softly, her voice barely a whisper.

As Kara lay in Lena's arms, the light slowly fading from her eyes, Lena felt a surge of overwhelming guilt wash over her. She watched helplessly as the vibrant spark that had always defined Kara dimmed, replaced by the haunting shadow of death.

In that moment, as Kara's life slipped away before her very eyes, she realized with painful clarity how horribly she had treated Kara, how she had allowed her anger and bitterness to cloud her judgment, to blind her to the truth.

With aching regret, Lena wished she could turn back time, go back to that pivotal moment when Kara had offered her an apology, and accept it with open arms. She wished she could undo all the pain and betrayal, erase the choices that had led to this. Throughout everything, she had never once considered that she could lost Kara like this.

This was Kara, her Kara, the woman she loved more than anything in this world, and now she was losing her because of her own actions. How could she have let it come to this? How could she have been so blind, so stupidly angry?

It was as if Lena was finally snapping out of a trance, one fueled by anger and resentment, and now, faced with the devastating reality of Kara's imminent death, none of it meant anything. All she wanted was Kara back, safe and sound in her arms.

Through tear-streaked eyes, Lena leaned down and whispered those three words she had never dared to speak aloud before. "I love you," she confessed, her voice choked with emotion, her heart breaking with each syllable, "Please, please come back to me. I'm sorry."

But as Kara's life slipped away, Lena felt the crushing weight of her own guilt bear down upon her. She wished she could trade places with Kara, to undo the irreversible damage she had caused.

In that moment, as Kara drew her final breath, Lena wished she could die too, to escape the unbearable agony of her own making, to be reunited with the woman she had loved and lost.

She had nothing to live for anymore. And it was her own fault.

[adrift-in-thyme]

Febuwhump Day 7: Suffering in Silence

Ao3

CW for PTSD, referenced injury, and unresolved interpersonal conflict

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

He needs sleep. 

Warriors stares into the water-speckled restroom mirror and sees nothing. Blurred shapes are all that are there, forms and colors he knows make up his visage. But his sandpaper eyes have turned them all indistinct. 

He is borderless now, as shifting and immaterial as he feels. Brush against him and he will simply float away.

Or sink into the depths that call him. 

Taking a deep breath, he scoops a palmful of water onto his face. Its icy frigidity does little to awaken him. He is too far gone for that now. 

Movement. Thought. They are nearly impossible. Have been all day.

Perhaps, that is why he had lost it earlier. Perhaps, that is why, the infallible, optimistic captain had simply…snapped.

His breath hitches unexpectedly. Trembling legs give way, depositing him on the tiled floor. Warriors brings his hands up and digs his palms into his eyes, fighting against the searing bite of oncoming tears. 

Damn it. Keep it together, captain. You already fell apart once, don’t do it again…

His hands curl into fists. Fingernails dig mercilessly into calloused flesh.

Wild’s words still echo in his mind, a terrible weight he is almost certain he lacks the strength to shoulder. 

Even a spirit of courage isn’t mighty enough for things like this.

Hurl him into hoards of squealing beasts. Send him hurtling through time and space. Drop him in the midst of situations he struggles to even comprehend. Take those he loves to a place he cannot go himself. Tear his body apart until there is nothing left. 

He can handle all that. He was built to handle all of that. 

But to strive so hard, so long only to hear that cursed shout…

“I hate you!”

The deathly chill that has gripped him since the fight (the one that had closed him off from the hero shouting in his face, that had turned his gaze dull, his expression stony, filled his mind with cotton so he could neither think nor feel…and had ignited Wild’s ire further) cracks and shatters into one million pieces. Pain cleaves through the exhausted numbness. A sob rips through his throat.

He’s heard worse. Far greater accusations, far worse insults have been spewed at him with fury and revulsion. Screamed at him as fists and feet connected with bone and muscle; shouted as blades ate away at flesh and cloth.

His own men had called him a traitor to Hyrule. The people he fought to protect had dubbed him a murderer. 

It hadn’t hurt as badly as this.

Warriors lets his head fall back against the wall. Hot tears glide down his cheeks, streaming down his neck to skitter beneath his collar. 

He hadn’t meant for any of this to happen. He hadn’t meant to break. But the sleepless nights had only continued since Twilight’s brush with death. The tasks hadn’t stopped piling up. The troubles hadn’t stopped parading through.

(The memories had kept coming, hounding at his every step, haunting his dreams, stealing the breath from his lungs. Memories of death and loss. Of betrayal and heartbreak.)

The latest battle had just been too much. Especially, when Wild had disobeyed orders yet again, hoping to catch the Shadow before he could streak through another gateway. 

Normally, Warriors would have held his tongue until he found the best wording for a rebuke. Normally, he would’ve dealt with the situation calmly, firmly…kindly.

But he had been so, so tired. 

Even now, he longs to fall into the plush embrace of a heap of blankets. But sleep was impossible out there where he could feel their eyes on him, hear their murmured conversations. He couldn’t-couldn’t see their faces a moment longer.

Warriors hadn’t even allowed himself to dwell on their expressions. Sorrow, shock, judgement, pity — he had identified them all in the split seconds he’d had to look over his friends.

His brothers.

The lump in his throat burns. Warriors swallows against it. 

He will have to come out soon, stone-faced and determined. He will have to face the repercussions of everything that has happened with a brave front.

He will have to force down the emotions churning within him, the hurt boiling up. 

He has suffered in silence for a close to a week now. And it’s not as though he isn’t skilled at the art of constructing facades by now. At times, the mask feels realer than his true face.

So, really, what’s a little longer for the sake of tentative peace?

Though, what kind of peace can be struck when one person despises the other?

He chuckles, harsh and wet. The sound is hardly audible over the never-ending rush of the water that cascades from the faucet.

Shut it off, the soldier within him shouts. Resources must be preserved.

Warriors doesn’t budge from his place on the floor. 

If he had obeyed his instincts, however, he might have heard the sound of a hand on the doorknob, a pick in the lock. 

Wind shimmies into the bathroom with shocking stealth. At the sound of the door clicking closed, Warriors startles. Instantly, his hand flies to his boot, seeking the dagger nestled against his leg. But then, his gaze lands on the sailor, standing mere feet from him, expression screwed up in worry. And he lets his hand drop to the floor.

“Goddesses, sailor,” he breathes, “you almost gave me a heartattack. Trying to put me in an early grave?”

Wind slips down beside him, shoulder pressed to the captain’s.

“Sorry! I just…” He looks down at his hands, clasped atop his lap. “...I didn’t think you were actually taking a bath in here. That would’ve been a really long one if you were.”

Warriors chokes out a chuckle. “Wouldn’t be out of character for me though, would it?”

Wind shrugs. “People don’t go bathe after a fight. I know I never do when Aryll and me argue.” 

The ceiling smears further into combined shades of emerald-blue. Warriors clears his throat. The suffocating tightness doesn’t lessen.

“‘M sorry you had to hear all that, sailor,” he croaks. “I shouldn't have snapped.”

Wind is quiet for a long thread of moments. When he speaks again, his voice is small. His words, however, are firm, confident. 

“Wild didn’t mean what he said, you know.”

The ache in Warriors’ chest pierces deeper and spreads like a blot of ink on silken cloth. 

Right when he thought this day couldn’t get any worse, now the sailor is trying to comfort him.

…as he mopes on the bathroom floor.

How far can you fall in one day?

Pretty far, it seems.

He shakes his head, hoping the sound of his hair brushing the wall behind him will cloak that of his shuddering breaths.

“Wind, you don’t have to — ”

Wind scoots closer and wraps his two arms around Warriors’ one.

“It’s true! Wild said some really bad stuff but…he was just angry at the Shadow. And…scared.” Large orbs the color of the Great Sea gaze into Warriors’. “Like you.” 

The captain is quiet, allowing that a moment to sink in. Or, perhaps, to merely settle on the tower of wavering feelings stacked within him.

He’s so tired. (How many times has he thought that now?) If he closes his eyes, the weight hovering atop him will plummet, dragging him down with it.

More tracks of salty water scurry down his cheeks, bringing warmth to his chilled flesh. 

“You’re gonna have to talk to him, you know,” the sailor continues, voice just audible over the continued downpour. “Wild can be an idiot sometimes, especially when he feels bad. He’s gonna wanna talk about what happened but…he probably thinks you hate him now.”

That hardly makes him feel warm and fuzzy inside. But Warriors knows he’s got a point. 

Some people reach outward when regret has them by the throat. Wild has already lashed out. Now, his only option is to go in.

And when that happens, even the rancher can hardly drag him out.

Good to know luck is on my side, snarks the spiral of self-pity. 

Warriors drags in a breath and swallows a mouthful of tears.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he hums. He coaxes his arm out of Wind’s grasp and wraps it around his slight shoulders, pulling him close. “You’re a smart kid, you know that?”

Wind giggles, softly. “Yeah, I know.” He pauses. “And I know you and Wild are gonna be okay. You’re brothers! Siblings always make up, trust me!”

“You’ve got a lot of optimism, sailor,” Warriors whispers. 

Silence glides in on the tail of his words. It settles, heavy and hyptonizing over the small space. Warriors allows it to reign for a while. 

The days of stress and exhaustion have fully caught up to him now. Frazzled, devastated thoughts slow, bumping lazily against one another. He stares ahead of him and lets everything disappear behind a film of sorrow and fatigue. 

“Hey, Wars?” Wind’s voice is a bit louder now, but hesitant. Gentle. “I love you.”

Warriors’ eyes slide closed of their own accord. He doesn’t bother to drag them open again.

“Love you too, sailor,” he murmurs and every word is laborious to utter. “Love you too.”

[draco-dormiens]

THE STRANGEST OF PLACES - Chapter Twenty

draco x fem!ravenclaw reader / postwar au series

warnings: swearing, angst, description of an injury, sleep problems, heartbreak, self depreciation

wc: 4400

masterlist

taglist is now closed - i’ve officially run out of tags! thank you all ♡

Chapter Twenty: The Malfoys, The Greengrasses and The Girl Inbetween

Draco wakes with a numb feeling, a few blissful moments of nothingness in his mind until the throb of his knuckles piece the evening back together. He looks down himself, realising he was still in his shirt, his white and green satin bed sheets now stained with blood from the cuts on his hand. He grumbles softly, muttering how he must have just fallen asleep, exhausted from such an eventful night. Sitting on the edge of his bed, he remembers, from start to finish, just how bad last night went. He runs his hand through his hair, momentarily forgetting about the damage he had done. Hissing from the sudden strike of pain in his fingers, he looks over the spectacularly purple bruise forming over his pale skin.

"Shit," he mutters to himself. His head was pounding from the constant pressure. Draco tried to picture the events as they unfolded, but the one thing he could not forget was his mother's scheming. The fury he felt began to bubble once more as he made his way to the sink of his private bathroom, washing the cuts with warm water, biting his bottom lip to stand the pain. He hadn't realised how hard he hit the cold stone. It was surprising that he hadn't broken anything. Dabbing his hand gently with a soft flannel, he made his way back to his bed to find the box of first aid underneath it. As a lover of potions and brewing things, Draco often dabbled in medicine whilst he was home. It was time he could be alone, away from his parents and their insufferable need to redeem themselves. The manor's garden was home to some fascinating plants, many of which had healing properties, and Draco whipped up a salve for things such as cuts and bruises one afternoon when his parents were away. It worked wonders, but in typical Draco fashion, he kept his little invention to himself. Being as gentle as he could, he smeared some of the cloudy white paste over the cuts, bracing for the sting. Once that was done, he lay back down, still in his shirt from the night before. 

As the salve did it's job, he began to think of you, of course. He wonders if you got any sleep last night, what you might be doing right at this moment, and if you were just as confused as he was. The taste of you was enough to make him feral, the feeling of your body against his, the way your mouths moulded as if missing puzzle pieces. It was all so right, and then Pansy walked in, knowing exactly what she was doing. He places his good hand over his eyes, wishing to Merlin she was just a bad dream, but Pansy had in fact seen him embracing you, and now he had to make sure she kept her sour face shut. He thinks on it, wonders why it's so important to him to keep his true feelings from his mother, and then realises how messed it up all seems. Draco had become so accustomed to being controlled, his initial reaction was to make Pansy swear not to speak a word, even though his heart has promised itself to someone else.

But Astoria's words rang true in his mind.

There was little time, it would seem, for the two of you to remain close. Since his parents had been in cahoots with Astoria's, it was very much looking like the rest of his life had been arranged for him. How convenient, he thinks sarcastically. Time was not on his side, and neither was anyone else, for that matter. Only you. The one person he had to tear himself away from. With effort, he rises from the bed to sit at the edge again, a solemn, sinking feeling setting in as he comes to realise what he must do next. Draco felt so helpless, so lost, and most of all, cowardly. Then he thinks to himself, if the tables turned, would you be brave enough to defy your parents for what your heart wants?

He thinks the answer is yes. He is simply, as everyone has always thought, a coward. A hopeless, spineless coward. 

After some difficulty, with his head feeling as heavy as lead and his hand throbbing like it was constantly tied up in twine, he showered and felt a little more human after it. Breakfast was long over, of course, but the real feast was in the kitchen. He heads towards it, as a familiar brown haired girl rushes past him, head down and sniffling. It takes him a second to register that it was in fact Astoria, but when he turns to ask if everything was alright, she had disappeared. Thinking better of getting in her business, he continues to the kitchen, as Astoria hides behind a suit of armour to avoid speaking to him. She peers after him, a pang of guilt in her chest. 

Draco helps himself, thinking how you would scold him if he hadn't eaten, and then makes his way towards Ravenclaw tower. Surely, that's where you will be. If not, Granger was his back up. He wasn't sure what he would say yet, he just wanted to see you for now. Halfway there and the nerves set in. It would be the first time you had spoken since that kiss. He tries and fails to make a fist in an attempt to ease some of the pressure. Up ahead he sees the giant wooden doors that lead to the stairs heading up to Ravenclaw tower. Of course, he cannot walk through it, but was willing to wait until a cooperative Ravenclaw wanders by. He'd stood, perhaps half an hour or more, when the door creaks open, and out walks a sixth year. 

"Excuse me," he calls after her, and the look in her face is extremely cautious once she realised who was speaking to her, "do you know if Y/N Y/L/N is around?"

She observes him carefully before answering.

"And if she is?" the girl answers, looking ready to defend you if necessary. The look in her eyes is rather cold, as if she was angry at him for some reason. 

"I'd like to speak with her," Draco responds politely, "would you be able to collect her for me?"

The girl scoffs bitterly.

"I think not," she raises an eyebrow knowingly, "she's very upset right now."

Upset. Draco's protectiveness kicks in immediately.

"Who upset her?," Draco's voice lowers an octave, "was it Chambers?"

The girl seems to ease up a little when the concern he's displaying seems genuine. She sighs.

"She's inside, but I doubt she'll want to see you," the girl says, "she's locked herself in her dorm room. Best to wait until she's ready to face the world."

She turns to leave.

"Wait," Draco calls once more, and the girl stops to spin in his direction, "can you at least pass on a message for me? Please?"

The evening rolled by achingly slow. You were sure your body had become somewhat numb, unable to feel a single thing. Astoria's words circled your mind, over and over again, the way she begged you to put an end to your relationship with Draco. All your tears had been spent when the room finally darkened to the point you needed candle light to see. You lit a few lamps, and then sat on the edge of the bed. You had pondered for some time about Astoria's plea, and if you were willing enough to believe her story, and even more willing to do what she said needs to be done. You would like to think it was for the greater good, but then something nasty tells you that she just wants you out of the picture. Either way, what was to come seemed inevitable, and you had no power to stop it. Standing, you move to look in the vanity mirror, wiping your cheeks of dried tears and then splashed cold water on your face in the bathroom sink. Once you looked a little less lifeless, you figured you should do something about the ever growing grumble in your stomach when a very soft knock came from your door. Upon opening it slightly, you see Emilie standing there, looking a little sheepish.

"Emilie," you croak, and then immediately clear your throat, "can I help you?"

"Well, I was going to wait until I saw you, but you never left your room," she says, giving you a thin smile, "I ran into someone on my walk, and they asked me to give you a message." She hands you a small piece of folded parchment, and you take it from her gingerly. Emilie takes your prolonged silence as a cue to leave you be, "I guess I'll see you around. Night, Y/N."

You heard her footsteps retreating, but your eyes were on the folded paper. "Thanks," you mumble, and then close the door, ultimately locking out the cold corridor air. You lean against it as you unfold the secretive little note, to see very familiar writing.

I think we need to talk. I'll be in the little wood outside of school tonight at 7. 

Makes a change, right? 

D x

The last few tears trickle down your cheeks as a weak smile graces your features.

Just outside of Hogwarts was a small wood. Not the Forbidden Forest, just a small, unassuming group of trees that stood firmly in place. Pine trees, you believed. You could smell them from a mile away, and as you edged ever closer to the wood edge, your chest felt tighter with each step. Why he had chosen this location, you were unsure, but when the trees came closer, you could see a little flicker of light. Gut instinct told you to follow it, and so you did. As the small flicker of orange light grew larger against the thick tree trunks, a clearing came in to view, and there you saw a blanket on the ground, a few candles, and Draco at the centre. He looks up when he hears footsteps, a giant smile across his pretty face.

"Hi," he says, standing, "I'm so glad you made it."

"Hi," you repeat back, looking a little awestruck at the view, "what's all this for?"

Draco swallowed thickly. Since you locked yourself away for the day, it had bought him some time to think about what to do. He decided that if he was to be wed to Astoria, then he was going to be selfish. He was going to spend one more night with you, and he didn't care how self centered he seemed. 

"I just thought we deserved some quiet time, away from everything," said Draco, crossing the small space to stand before you, "to be together."

"I-I don't understand," you stutter, "I thought you wanted to talk... about, you know."

He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Well, yeah, but I just figured this was nice," he mumbles, then clears his throat, "but, uh, yeah we probably should. What, uh, part do you want to talk about?"

"Are you serious?" you spit, not intending to sound so cruel, "how about the fact we kissed and Pansy walked in on us? Or how about Astoria, she's a big topic as of late."

Draco sighs, throwing his head back and closing his eyes.

"I don't want to argue with you," he said wearily, "I only wanted to have a nice evening together."

You feel slightly guilty. He's laid out such a nice area for you, lit candles, chosen a fluffy blanket for you to sit on. Maybe it can wait...

"Sorry," you mumble, and he returns his gaze to you, "a lot going on at the moment."

He moves to brush his fingers over your hand. You allow him. His fingertips send jolts through your body, and you ache to feel his touch once more. He takes your hand in his, squeezing lightly, as your eyes lock. He's so handsome, with the dim light framing one side of his face. You squeeze back, as he leads you over to the blanket, gesturing for you to sit. You do so, and he joins, as close as he can get. Once more he takes your hand in his, and you notice briefly how he keeps the other hand covered by his sleeve. He begins to draw comforting circles against your skin. It was quiet, until his soft voice broke through the pleasant evening air. 

"That kiss," he whispers, and you look up at him, his face dangerously close, "meant everything to me, you mean everything to me."

"Draco-"

"Please, just," he stops you, biting his tongue before speaking again, "let me say this. I need to."

You remain quiet.

"You're the first real friend I've ever made," he goes on, and you feel the very last string in your heart snap, "and the first girl that, well, that I've..." he hesitates, looking at you for reassurance. You want to hear it, of course you do, but with the near future and Astoria lurking over you like a bad omen, you couldn't allow yourself to hear it. You fear it may be the straw that finally breaks the camel's back.

"Don't," you croak, and his eyes fill with both hurt and confusion, "don't, Draco. You can't say it."

"I know," his grips tightens, and you can almost feel the fury radiating off him, "but I need to, before-"

"Draco," you say in utter seriousness, standing up from his embrace. You can't look at him, the face you had been dreading was staring right back at you. You weren't ready for it to happen so quickly, but fate had decided on this moment, "you don't need to explain. I know what's going to happen. Astoria has told me everything."

"Huh?" he sounds, now standing to try and face you. You abruptly turn away, "told you what, exactly? Did she upset you? Is that why you were in your room all day?"

You stifle a sob into your jacket sleeve, and took a deep breath before facing him. His eyes were calling for you, begging for you to come closer. It was a pain you wish to never feel again.

"I know about the dinner, the engagement, everything," you mutter miserably, "it's too late, Draco. We've run out of time."

He goes to speak but seems lost for words. His eyes are glossy against the orange hew of the candles. Such a pretty place for such a solemn conversation. Draco wasn't ready either, he hadn't thought it through. He was perhaps being a little naive for thinking he could have one more night with you, but there were no words coming to him. No way of telling you he could no longer be in your life. It was breaking him, but hearing it come from you seemed to break him more than anything ever could. 

"I see," he breathes, "you don't wish to spend another moment with me, do you?"

"That's not it, Draco," you cry softly, "I'd spend every waking moment with you, but I am not the women for you, we've known that from the very beginning. Don't act like you thought things would change... we always knew, didn't we?"

"So, that's it, then?" he snaps, "you don't even want to say goodbye? Have one more moment together, after everything?"

"What's the point?" you stress, feeling like your body might collapse under the weight of your melancholia, "I can't take it anymore, Draco. I can't. I can't keep dragging this out just for the heartache to hurt even more. After seeing Astoria... I... I'm done, Draco."

He chokes on his own sob, but quickly stifles it. He hadn't prepared himself for what it would feel like when he finally lost you, but it had driven him to a dark place in his mind, and when he wanted to, Draco could cut to the bone. Right to the bone.

"Fuck it, then," he spits nastially, "I don't even know why I did all this shit," he launches the blanket and furiously kicks the candles as far as possible, "I really thought we'd at least get a nice goodbye, you know? But fuck me, right? Fuck all of this. And fuck you, Y/N. As if this is how you want to leave things."

"Draco, please," you sob.

"No, it's done. You've made it clear. Just go." He turns from you, rage filling every crevice of his body. He feels like he might implode. The hurt he feels is like nothing he's ever experienced before, and he wants to rip it out of his chest and stomp all over it. 

If this is love, he doesn't want it.

You remain quiet for a moment, looking around at the destroyed evening. It wouldn't be right for you to entertain it, that's what you tell yourself. Draco is heaving, you can see from how rapidly his shoulders rise and fall. The ache in you is unbearable.

"I will cherish you," you then mutter, not knowing if any words will give him peace, but you try anyway, "always. Take care of yourself, Draco."

You couldn't stand it another minute, and dash before he can say anymore. It was done. You'd cut the tie, and along with it severed every piece of hope you had. As you climb the hill back to the castle, tears trickle down your face silently. You had nothing left to feel now, all you had was the empty void Draco left behind. Empty, hollow and broken, you head for the solitude of the same four walls you had seen all day. When Draco finally turns, you're not there, and the forest is now dark and lonely.

Just like he's always destined to be. 

One month passes.

He wakes in a sweat for the fourth time that week. Ever since you left the woods that night, Draco suffers the same recurring nightmare. He's watching through a window, as you marry a faceless man. He's shouting, banging his fists against the glass, but no one hears him. Not even you, and as the unknown man leans in to kiss you Draco wakes, shooting up in his bed, dripping with sweat. Then, your soft, sad voice trickles back in; I will cherish you, always, and he lets out the most awful sob. His heart was breaking, every day, every minute, every hour. Every time he saw you across a room, the hall, the corridor, the courtyard. He broke a little more each time. 

And he could see it in your face too.

He was so foul to you. Said such awful things, and now he can never take it back. He can never make it right. When his alarm clock blares not only a few hours after his last nightmare, he slams his fist down on to it, cracking it slightly. He has no desire to show up for his exam today, but he has to. His education is the only thing he's ever had control over, and he needed it to get a good job and make his own money. He drags himself, like he has every morning since, to his private bathroom to see the delightfully dark circles under his eyes. He makes little effort, throwing on whatever he can find. The letter his mother sent regarding the engagement sits on his desk, opened, with a little velvet box next to it. Inside sits a stunningly silver ring, with a huge green emerald embedded within it. A family heirloom, and worth a small estate, it sits waiting to be placed on Astoria Greengrass's finger in a few weeks time. Draco avoids even touching it. Astoria accompanies him to most exams now, and he doesn't quarrel about it. He simply lets her talk. Sometimes you sit the same exam, and when you're sitting in front of him, he spends more time ogling the back of your head than he does writing answers. 

He skips all meal times, and only goes to the kitchens late. He doesn't spend time outside the common room unless he absolutely has to, and only turns up for Quidditch practice and matches. He doesn't look for you in the crowd, he doesn't get his hopes up. Draco lives for whatever is planned for him and nothing else. Sleepless nights turn into sleepless days, then weeks, until he's so tried he falls asleep at his desk studying. He doesn't even know how he gets through exams, he just drinks barrels of coffee and hopes for the best, drowns himself in Quidditch practice and spends as much time whizzing around the field as he can. McGonagall has offered him some time to talk, but Draco refused politely. Even she can see he's a shell now. 

Hermione tries to coax you out of your dorm after exams. She asks you to the tearoom in Hogsmeade, she asks you to play chess, even just a walk. Each time you decline politely and crawl under your covers, or sit and study at your desk until your hand aches from writing. You, too, have the same recurring nightmare, but instead it's you watching Draco live his life with Astoria as his wife. You go to meals to satisfy Hermione that you're eating, but longly look at the place he always used to sit. You watch Astoria with her friends, and refuse to smile back at her. You go to your exams and go back to your dorm. That's all you have the energy for. That's all that's worth doing lately. Every night before you sleep you hear Draco's harsh words, see him turning away from you as you broke him one final time. And, to top it all off, you've been invited to Ron's for a pre graduation dinner at the same time Draco is proposing to Astoria. How on earth you were supposed to sit through that, you had no idea, but you were determined to try for Hermione's sake. Your parents wrote to you, having no idea what was going on, and you replied like everything was rosey. You zone out in the library, dread seeing him at examinations, and sob into your pillow so much you need a new pillowcase. 

Nothing is right, everything is wrong, and the storm outside your bedroom window rages on and on and on as you scribble notes on parchment. This whole time you've only ever been the girl in the middle. The Malfoys, the Greengrasses, and then you. A powerless, hopeless excuse of a fling, it would seem.

Only four weeks left until you graduate, and yet you've never felt so miserable in your whole life.

Across the castle, at the Gryffindor common room, Hermione wraps a jumper around her shoulders and heads out of the portrait hole. She marches her way down the tower, through the corridors, down and down until she reaches the dreary, dark hallways of the dungeons. She ignores the whispers of passing Slytherins, and makes a beeline for the snakes common room. When she arrives, she's met with a stone cold wall. Irritably, she sighs, and looks for any Slytherin in sight. She paces between the dimly lit corridors, an ever present dripping from the lake above driving her insane. How students live down here is beyond her. Most students wander off as she approaches, and just when she thinks her luck has run out, Malfoy enters the corridor she's wander up. He's windswept, holding his broom and looking absolutely exhausted. She runs, not wanting to shout his name, and grabs hold of his arm from behind, pulling him to the side.

"What the- Granger? What the fu-"

"Do not use that tone of voice with me, Malfoy," she tells him, her voice and eyes cold, "I'm simply here to say a few words."

"What could you possibly have to say to me?" Draco shakes his head lightly, "whatever it is, save it."

He goes to leave, but her death grip returns to his arm again.

"Four weeks," she tells him sharply, "that's all the time at Hogwarts we have left, and then we graduate."

"I'm aware of the timeline, Granger," Draco drawls. 

"Shut up and listen," she snaps at him, and his eyebrows raise, "you have four weeks before we leave here for good. Four weeks until you've run out of time to do what's right," Draco stares at her with black bags under his eyes and a complexion like a ghost, "Ron is holding a pre graduation dinner. Same day you're supposedly proposing to Greengrass. Don't look at me like that, Y/N tells me everything," she waves a dismissive hand at his sudden urge to tell her to keep out of his business, "if you have any brain cells left, you'll show up at that dinner. You've never been a coward, Draco Malfoy. Don't start now."

Hermione lets go of his arm, and her words spark something small in his chest, but it dies before it can become anything more.

"Not a coward?" he scoffs, "then why am I marrying Greengrass in a few weeks?"

"Malfoy," Hermione stresses, "turn up at that dinner. Its your last chance. If you don't, then I'll assume you've gone ahead with whatever this madness is. It's not too late. I know Y/N loves you."

She can see how thickly he swallows at those words, as if he's having trouble digesting them.

"D-did she say that?"

"She doesn't have to," Hermione smiles weakly, "and as her friend I can't bare to see her this way, especially when there's a way to fix this. You're not like them, Malfoy, you can pretend all you like but you know it too," she places a comforting hand on his arm, "I'm not trying to tell you what to do. I'm trying to help, the both of you."

For once he's thankful for her sharp tone and bossy attitude. If there was even a glimmer of hope, he wanted to take it, but after the way he left things he feared there was no way back. Not to mention how his parents might treat him. He was in far too deep now.

"Thanks, Granger," he mumbles, removing her hand from his arm gently, "but I'm in too deep. I've made my bed, right? Besides, she won't want me after how I spoke to her. Believe me. All I've ever done is run from what was right. I can't change that now."

"Malfoy-"

"Thanks for coming down here," he says as he walks away, "and if you can, please tell Y/N that I'm sorry. Not that she wants to hear it."

Hermione calls for him one last time, capturing the attention of passing students. Sharing a rather thin smile with them, she shuffles back into the wall. Maybe she had just made things worse, but she had to try. As she leaves the damp, cold atmosphere of the dungeons, she hopes, prays, that Malfoy isn't as stupid as she thinks he is. 

disclaimer: i do not own hp or any of the characters in this story

tags:

if your name is bold - i either couldn’t tag you or i’ve hit the tag limit :( sorry lovelies ♡

@lovesanimals0000 @cappgyuccino @lightning1ce @onlygetaway @honeyyypeach @namelesslosers @ghostyv @mikadorbs @redactedhimbo @morganadpl @scarecrowscaresthomas @camille-1019 @valkyrie418 @animeloverfreak310 @budugu @marplest @torresbarnes @bunny24sstuff @champagneesupernova @serafilms @siriusly-parker-main @lovely-maryj @i-bitch-you-bitch @astablacksword @sun-fiower-seed @tinafuentes @venusjustleft @omgitstatertot @aangsupremacy @ilovezy @leclerc16s @aslanvez @talesofadragon @3vasaur @the-skys-musical-echo @yeolsbubbles @idk-dolans @xx-kiraa-xx @sunbruized @vinkiesz @snickersmee @fandomrulesall-blog @astheraa @idkatee @marsanhwa @vintageoldfashion @63sucker @j-n-i-c-o-l-e @anarchistsons @smallsweetvanillabean @newbooksmell777 @tangomangroves @neoteezrenyoung @l0v3lies @delusionally-loveless-by-choice @higanbanagirl @ace152435 @arcanebabe @slythermuf @hea-vin @zucchinimalfoy

[bird-inacage]

Love in the Air: Prapai’s Rescue of Sky (The Ambush Aftermath)

I always knew, KNEW that I would have to write a deep dive on the Sky & Prapai aftermath scenes (following Sky’s ambush). I knew that they were going to be emotionally weighty and encompass some of the most incredible acting of the series. These scenes deserve every bit of neurotic over-analysis.

Part 1: "Answer me!”

When Prapai first approaches Sky after the attack, Sky is clearly shell-shocked, unresponsive and already starting to shut down. Note that Prapai begins by calling out to Sky in a neutral tone. When Prapai quickly realises that Sky is not responding to him, he panics. Panics severely. So he raises his voice and shakes Sky, and raises his voice again. He literally yells “Answer me!”

This is the line that really hit me, because I wasn’t expecting it at all. We always see Prapai as being very soft and coaxing with Sky. In Sky’s most vulnerable moment yet, Prapai yells harder than we’ve ever heard him raise his voice. Now note that this is not a yell at Sky, but for Sky. He sees that Sky is shutting down, which is a really bad sign. And Prapai, out of sheer desperation and panic, shouts in an attempt to get through to him.

And most importantly, it works. It’s amazing how Prapai instinctively seems to know what he needs to do to reach Sky in the quickest way possible. He demonstrated this in the notebook scene, and now here too.

Once Sky finally registers that Prapai is there with him, he immediately pleads. Now this is the first time Prapai has gotten any direct reference to what Sky went through. Nothing further really warrants being said. The implication is loud and clear. Prapai appears to be stunned at first, taken aback by what he’s hearing. Slowly but surely registering this information as the pieces begin to fall into place in his head. It’s incredibly difficult to process such upsetting information all at once. Also because he’d probably never, ever, even contemplated that Sky’s trauma could be in connection to something as heinous and cruel as this.

We see Prapai grimace, bow his head in both anger and heartbreak over what he’s just heard. For all the tumultuous feelings that must be crushing him in that moment, he reigns them all in. Desperately squashes down his absolute fury for the sake of the person trembling before him. He collects himself to ensure he is who Sky needs to be. The gentle, soothing, reassuring Prapai. The protective Prapai. He immediately responds to Sky’s questions in an attempt to allay any spiralling thoughts Sky may have. He returns to a soft tone of voice. It’s almost like Prapai doesn’t want to risk spooking Sky any further.

Part 2: “I told you to cry! I’m begging you!”

It’s Sky’s need for Prapai that snaps him out of beating the shit out of Gun. Rain’s calls of alarm, divert Prapai’s attention. Yes, he understandably wants revenge. Yes, he desperately wants this man to feel even a tiny fraction of what he’s inflicted on Sky. But Sky comes first and above all else. Always.

When Prapai returns to Sky, Sky is visibly numb. Sky is starting to repress in an attempt to avoid feeling anything. And this is where we see Prapai quickly break down. After the initial adrenaline of getting Sky out of danger, then taking his anger out on said danger, Prapai only has heartbreak and worry remaining. Prapai has never seen Sky in this state. He’s seen varying degrees of sadness or grief, he’s seen Sky cry, wail and sob. But he’s never seen Sky retreat into himself like this.

It’s the most extreme form of Sky’s defence mechanisms. Prapai knows that this is only pushing down the torrent of pain and internalising it. This will only do Sky more harm in the long-term. Prapai has seen Sky display signs of an already fractured state to his mental health, and Prapai can’t allow Sky to inadvertently hurt himself further. Prapai can’t afford to lose Sky now, not emotionally, not mentally, not at all. Not when he loves him so dearly. Not when they just started to be so happy.

So Prapai begins to plead for Sky to feel something - to cry, to exhibit any form of emotion. Because the way Sky is retreating, is like Sky disappearing in front of Prapai’s very eyes. He’s watching the person he loves become a shell, a husk. Sky being numb is a way of shutting everything out. Not just his pain, but potentially all his other emotions too - including his love for Prapai.

And it’s not just numbness. There’s also a heavy sense of weariness. Sky looks so distant and tired, like he’s given up fighting. Like he doesn’t want to fight for himself anymore. He’s so exhausted and battle-worn from just fending off the residual trauma, let alone this entire situation on top of that. If you follow that line of thought, I’m sure you’d understand in a heartbeat why Sky’s response worries Prapai so much.

Crying is a form of release. And that’s what Prapai wants for Sky. He wants Sky to at least release the pain and hurt he’s holding in. He doesn’t want Sky to be compromised as a result of this. He wants Sky to stay his Sky. His every command to Sky is almost like he’s praying, ‘please baby, please fight for me, please come back to me, don’t leave me, don’t give up, not like this’.

In the midst of Sky’s catatonic state, he stops to ask why Prapai is crying. He does this again in the scene after as well. There’s something innate in Sky, something still fundamental that is compassionate. That is loving. In the middle of all his own torment and suffering, the pain he sees Prapai going through pulls him out a fraction. But the question also genuinely comes from the voice of a younger, broken Sky. The Sky who is asking ‘Why are you crying for me? Why would you care enough to cry for me? No one cares about me, right? My sadness is worth nothing, right? I’m worthless aren’t I?’

The absolute killer is that Prapai understands. He sees and knows Sky far better than Sky realises. He knows what Sky is thinking, how Sky is thinking. He now sees even more clearly why Sky thinks the way that he does.

“If you can’t cry, I’ll cry for you. If you suffer, I’ll suffer with you. If you’re in pain, I’ll be in pain too.”

Prapai’s vow explains to Sky that it’s no longer just you and me anymore. We are one. Everything we experience, we share. It doesn’t just communicate how Prapai will help shoulder Sky’s pain and his burdens, but that it is physically impossible for Prapai to consider himself independent of Sky anymore. It’s a reiteration to Sky that’s he’s not alone. He’ll never be alone again. ‘You can’t shut me out, you can’t leave me behind, because wherever you go, I go. Whatever you feel, I feel.’

When Prapai says to Sky, “let me cry in your stead”, this comes from a place of immense understanding that Sky has been through so much pain, that perhaps he feels he has no more tears left to cry. Nothing left in him to even muster the response. And if that’s the case then Prapai will be his vessel, and will let these emotions out on his behalf.

His last phrase, “I’ll be in pain too” almost feels like another attempt to shake Sky out of his state of shock. He realises that Sky may be able to pull himself out of misery, if motivated by his respective concern and love for Prapai. If Sky is acutely aware that wherever he goes, Prapai will follow, then he may be more conscious about trying not to let himself slip off the precipice.

And finally Prapai reiterates that despite everything, despite the revelation, he still loves Sky. Of course he does. But Sky needed to hear that. He was so worried about how Prapai would react after finding out about his abuse. He refers to himself as ‘damaged goods’ in a later scene. He probably thought that Prapai would find him shameful, dirty, untouchable. But that couldn’t be further from the truth.

It’s once again Prapai’s love that pulls Sky back from the brink, that rescues Sky from imminent self-destruction. Prapai’s assurance that he will stay, that he will continue to love Sky no matter what, is what snaps Sky out of his sinking pit of despair. And when he does, the deluge of emotions he was trying so desperately to restrain, all rise to the surface.

I found the performances from both Fort and Peat to be absolutely arresting. And not just the body language, but the line delivery was a huge part of how the scenes impacted me. This is by no means an easy subject matter to tackle for any actor, so I am immensely proud of these boys.

[kassandras-one-braincell]

Soma x Reader - Teeth and Talons

Kinktober 04: Marking [explicit]

Contains: rough sex, scratching, biting, blood-drawing

Word count: 951

Ao3 link here.

Men, minors and ageless/default blogs DNI. You will be blocked immediately upon interaction.

You nearly lost her. The dirt tracks of Cippenham drowned in blood, and hers almost joined the crimson tides. She cast her shield to the wind; by some fortuitous grace, no sword found its way through her flesh, save for a few shallow slices. Narrowly, she lived to tell the tale of her recklessness. And you were furious.

Telltale signs of grief stained Soma’s face as her longship docked, staggering through the currents with fewer oars. There was no glory in death. She confided that much in you through hollow tears. Her faith had choked, and with no divine comforts, only you could console her grief. Weeks of agony she endured, hidden from the ghostly eyes of her drengir, finally slipped through the cracks of her numb visage.

With a weeping heart, you held her. Venom threaded your thoughts, cursing her stupid, stupid habit of succumbing to adrenaline, but you bit your tongue. Yet your mind refused to concede to the love you held for her. The bitter memory of your clash merely days before she departed for Hamtunscire haunted you: you pleaded for her to listen to reason, that her iron-forged loyalties amounted to nought if she never lived to uphold them, that the battle was ill-timed and ill-prepared. The screaming, the tears. The coldness of the furs beside you as she feigned sleep in the bed once belonging to a man who forsook her good, honest heart.

Soma harboured anger, too. It gnawed at her, taunting her grief. A valkyrie’s embrace was nothing more than a lullaby for shit-scared warriors before untimely eternal rest. Good warriors died singing it. Her good warriors.

Desperate for mortal solace, your bodies found one another – as they often did after Soma returned from battle, although never with such saddened fury. You wanted to kiss her. To strangle her. To sew your skins together so she could never leave without ripping you asunder. To stake her to the bed, to sob into her chest. To be whole again.

Woeful rage seeped into the first kiss. You loved this woman – by whatever force brought her home to you, did you fucking love her – and feared the intensity of that love died with her comrades. Feared that your anger was a nail in that coffin. But you were blissfully wrong as Soma spat her pure, earnest adoration for the bond you shared through gritted teeth. You were tangible, unlike anything she had felt other than pain these past weeks, and she tested this palpability with harsh rakes of her teeth against your flesh. Deep, sharp bitemarks littered your thighs at your plea, for you wanted to share her pain. She gripped your hand until her knuckles turned white as she lapped between your thighs, hissing anguished I-love-yous against your cunt.

Your lips found hers again as you trembled through the aftershocks of your orgasm. The salt of your savour muddied with the salt of her tears. You pressed a map of saline kisses into her skin, sinking your teeth into every scar that littered her body until all you tasted was flesh. Bit her down to her hips, where you knelt to fasten a harness when she begged to fill you to completion. You spared her worn palms the burden of leather, for it was all they had known after a brutal eternity with an axe in hand.

Pleasure laced itself into every thrust of Soma’s hips, but what you both yearned for, more than breath itself, was unity. Closeness. She lay atop you, her chest flush against yours, bracing the weight of her body on her forearms either side of your head so as to not crush you, although you wished she would. Her ragged breathing grazed your ear, her face buried into the crook of your neck so deep that you could feel the indent of the scar on her cheek.

She rocked into you slowly, with a heartbreaking rawness. There was love to be made, and she made it with a beauty so grotesque, so tender yet cannibalistic that nobody other than you would understand.

Your heart waned as the muscles of her back trembled under your splayed fingers. Your lips latched onto the skin of her shoulder, the sweat licking her flesh bittersweet against your tongue. Breathy moans were muffled against her scars and ink, but their vibrations carried into her veins.

Soma tilted her head to kiss your neck, soothing over a bitemark. She adjusted the angle of her hips, grinding her cock into the tenderest part of your heat, something you never thought you would find yourself wanting amidst your blissful togetherness until it happened. A strangled sound left your throat as your grip on her back tightened, your nails digging into her flexing muscle harsher than intended.

You felt her grimace under the sting. Moaning out an apology, you massaged the faint crescent markings with your fingertips.

But she craved the pain of it. It was the safest pain she’d felt all month.

“Scratch me up, sweetheart,” she rasped desperately against your shoulder. “Make me fucking bleed.”

“Soma,” you whispered, tinged with worry. Some of the cuts along her back were newly healed. She had bled enough for a lifetime—

“Please.”

Seldom did Soma ask you for anything, never mind beg. And you refused to deny her. Not now, of all times.

You clawed. You clawed until the skin of her back stained the underside of your nails. And as paper-thin streams of her blood kissed the air, her strained moan into your neck clawed its way into your heart.

“I’ve got you, love,” you murmured.

Raw, bloody, with mark after mark carved into one another’s bodies, she knew.

[thebangtancloud]

Hii! I’d like to request the saddest, most heartbreaking angst out there with Minho. With the prompts: 8, 11 and 24. (Maybe something where the reader has difficulty expressing their emotions like Minho has)

Ps. Ik you do fem readers but if you could make it more gender neutral, thank you🪷

The Wall of Glass ~ Lee Minho

"Why can't you love me back?" + "Stay." + "I hate everything about you."

Pairing: mafia!minho x mafia!reader

Genre: Angst, Forbidden love au, Mafia au

Warnings: Insinuation towards infidelity, Curse words, Murder, and major character death(s).

Summary: The wall of glass that stood between you and him shatters a moment too late.

A/n: Minho x Angst is just the perfect match!! I've never really written with a gender-neutral reader in mind but I've tried my best!!

Cold.

You felt cold in ways you never thought were possible.

It wasn't just the icy fingertips that once felt soft against your skin but were now nothing but brutal, driven by a fury you had an inkling was caused by you.

More specifically, the cold thing inside your chest that was supposed to be called your heart.

The metal was cold too, sharp and unrelenting, held against the smooth curve of your throat with an imminent threat to slit right through the flesh.

But there was something about the look in his eyes that made you stop - just for a moment. It made you think to yourself.

Did you really create this monster?

His voice was crisp, disdainful eyes staring down at you with the intent to make you feel worthless.

Humiliating you.

Hurting you.

"You don't get to walk over me."

Like the ice that meets the warmth of everything but itself, Minho's eyes began to glisten in the dark of the night, the occasional clank of the metal lamp hanging from the ceiling hitting the wall behind it as the wind blew - almost like it was making the lamp dance to its tunes.

The way Minho thought you made him dance to your tunes.

"You don't get to use me."

For a fleeting second, his eyes softened when he felt your fingers reach for his hand, his head dipping to look at the place you touched him. But the delicate whimper that sounded from you made him push the knife further up against your throat.

"Pathetic," he spat, inching closer and watching in fascination the way your watery eyes twinkled with a challenge that you wordlessly put forth before him.

"Just like your father," he taunted with a scoff. "It's in the blood."

Your hand didn't leave his. It only slid along the length of his arm, grabbing onto the material of his black leather jacket in an attempt to ground yourself when flimsy black circles began to darken your vision.

"So weak. I don't even understand what I saw in you. I was a fool."

His resolve was breaking, but so was your capacity. The unforgiving winter probably numbed your skin, causing you to miss the sluggish movement of the dark maroon blood trickling down the length of your neck.

He was slowly killing you. Just the way he dreamt of doing.

"I should've known," he pressed, "should've known that you could never be mine. That you never wanted to be mine."

For a moment, you contemplated showing him a sign. Maybe the slightest shake of your head, or a weak squeeze on his arm. Just to let him know that he had gotten it all wrong.

But what was the point?

He didn't love you.

And even if he did, it probably wasn't enough considering the lack of reluctance when it came to holding a knife against your throat.

If he didn't love you, what was the point in fighting? What was the point in salvaging something that had no hope? Why were you even thinking of making him understand you?

It's not like he would understand you.

It's not like he ever understood you.

"Maybe..." his voice dipped. "Maybe if I had just killed you when I had the chance to..."

Minho let himself glare at the blood that he had drawn from your precious skin. Soft skin that he once worshipped and praised and left feather light kisses on until the moon fell asleep. He couldn't help but feel angry.

"...then I wouldn't have found it so difficult to kill you now."

Minho wanted nothing but to read you like a book, the way he desires to be read. The silent longing that reflected in not just your gaze but also in his. The little twitch of his little finger each time he physically itched to just reach out and hold you.

For a fraction of a second, his resolve deflated when your bloodshot eyes fluttered up to meet his.

He wished to understand.

He wanted to understand you the way you understood him.

But he couldn't.

"Why?"

For the first time since the moon hid its shame behind a dark curtain of clouds, the knife fell from his hand, clattering onto the cement and splattering the few drops of your blood that he had painted it with.

"Why can't you love me back?"

You do.

There was no turning back to the man that you had once given your heart to. Not when he didn't take a moment to crush it beneath the weight of his anger. His resentment.

You do love him.

But there was no point in letting him know.

Not when he let someone else take your place in his life.

"Is it because of your father? He can't stand you falling in love just because his partner betrayed him? Does he not want you to be happy?"

"It's you."

Minho paused mid-step, his fist clenching by his side.

"Me?"

"It's because of you."

Painfully slow, he turned to look into your eyes again.

"Do you really resent me that much?"

Your head dipped back to rest against the dirty brown leather couch that he had you pinned to mere moments ago, feeling drained and overwhelmed. You didn't think he'd corner you this way, you didn't think he could manipulate you into coming to meet him.

"I used to love you," you croaked, raising a dirt-covered palm to put pressure on the open wound over your neck. "I really did."

"And now?"

He let his guard down for a moment. He let the hope that he had been suppressing shimmer in his tear-filled eyes. He let you see a part of him that he didn't want you to see.

"Now? I hate everything about you."

He regretted it.

Minho regretted being naive, being indecisive, and vulnerable. He hated the fact that he allowed himself to appear weak before you.

Maybe the moon was afraid, hiding its face from a man whose eyes had darkened dangerously under the flickering yellow light of that godforsaken lamp that swung to the beat of the piercing winter breeze.

Maybe the moon simply didn't want to witness the way the love that it once would shine its light upon is now drowning, suffocating in the depths of misunderstanding, a place so deep that even if it tried, the light could never reach it.

With barely a moment to take it all in, Minho had his hands wrapped around your neck once again. He felt the warmth of your blood smear all over his skin, trickle down the side of his wrist, stain him, break him.

"Do it," he heard you rasp, cutting off all supply of air with a grunt as he tightened his grip on you.

"Kill me."

"Don't tell me what to do," he spat, eyes trembling with fury. A teardrop fell from his right eye, splattering onto your cheek and making your scrunch your eyes shut in agony. He watched your face redden, the way three veins that led all the way to your neck stood up with the pressure that he had on your throat.

"You don't even deserve to live after walking all over me," he snared, inching closer and letting you feel his breath hit your face.

"All those nights when it was just you and me. You didn't deserve it. You don't deserve it. You don't deserve to be loved. You're just another product of your father."

He heard another whimper float towards his ears.

"Kill me."

"I said don't tell me what to do!"

The silence that followed his booming voice made your ears ring. Just a few more seconds and you'd slip into unconsciousness. You were sure of it.

So you willed yourself to open your eyes.

To take in his features for perhaps the last time.

What you didn't expect was to see him crying.

A strangled sob that he tried to stifle, a few tear drops collecting at the tip of his sharp nose, threatening to drip off and fall onto you.

"Minho."

"I'm so fucking done with you," he wept, letting go of your throat with one last push and turning to face the other side.

"I don't want to see your face ever again," he spoke under his breath, his head held low.

And maybe you had misunderstood him. You knew you were about to risk your life meeting up with him, you knew that it could possibly be him that could take your life, but he didn't.

You could see the tremble in his clenched fist. The resentment that he held for himself. The way his stature questioned his motives.

How could he even think of taking your life?

How could he?

"Minho..."

Your voice broke halfway through, weak hands grasping - clawing - at your neck in an attempt to find relief from the pain. Lightheaded and faint, you fell to the floor when you stood to follow him, the hope that was once dead now having life being blown into its nostrils.

He didn't move away from you.

He gave you one last chance.

Yet, no more than a second after you touched the back of his leg, a loud gunshot sounded, the immediate splutter of warm blood hitting the side of your face, stinging you with the force.

Your hands that were reaching out for Minho covered your ears, falling to your side with a trembled gasp.

Soon, another figure slumped beside you, the dust from the ground flying delicately in the air and giving him an eerie glow under the light of the metal lamp.

"I told you not to meet him."

A distant voice, cold and emotionless. It made you scramble around to look for the source but your movements paused when your eyes landed on the man that you loved.

Minho lay on the ground, a puddle of dark blood pooling around him. His fingers twitched ever so often, jet black hair dancing softly with each tremor that ran up his spine.

"Father," you whispered dreadfully, defeated and betrayed eyes lifting to lock with the man that shares your blood.

"I... I asked you for time, how could you do this?"

The tall man lowered his arm, the glint of the silver gun catching your attention.

"We don't feed dogs that bite us."

Your father recognized the pathetic quaver in your voice as a sign of defeat, a humorless laugh spitting past his lips.

"M-Minho," you pleaded with the man who was fighting against death right before your eyes, reaching out and pulling him over to face you. A thin stream of blood smeared the pale skin of his cheek a bright right, a single tear trickling down his temple that you swiped away gingerly.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, holding onto your hand and gazing up at you with a light daze in his watery eyes.

"Stay with me, please," you begged him, unable to stop the tears from falling, hoping that you could heal him miraculously - if not magically - with the love that you so wished you had admitted to him.

"You know I love you, sweetheart," he smiled sadly, wincing when a painful shock caused him to jerk to the side.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, Minho."

The man in your arms looked past you for a moment, gathering up the last of his energy to raise his arm up and bring your head closer to him.

You let him, aiming for a kiss to the top of his head, one last kiss goodbye, when the click of the weapon behind you made Minho's fingers curl into your hair.

"Neither do we raise unfaithful dogs," you heard the man speak lowly, Minho's eyes trained on the man that had no hint of remorse on his face.

Another gunshot echoed through the dark, cold night.

.

.

.

.

.

Angst for Minho is like the skz version of angst for Yoongi lollll, it fits so well. I hope you like this one!!

Request 2/30 :) Go ahead and request soon before all the spots are taken!

Permanent Taglist: @hopestastic , @joondiary , @0xnna0 , @cuteipat , @koalasandcuddles , @bangrauhl13 , @blissedjoon , @underratedbitch-number13 , @tinyoonsblog , @itachi-chi @sparkyprotectionsquad @scuzmunkie @uno7

[tsukuyomii45]

The team reluctantly report their discovery to the council, all the while Rin cries in heartache.

The Council decide to make this jedi business, and thus demand every Jedi to bring Obito to justice, they give a kill or capture order.

Rin is horrified by this. Kakashi and everyone try to persuade the council to try and take him alive, so he can be saved, but the council refuses.

Rin runs out of the chamber crying, quickly followed by Kushina, Sakura and Konan.

Rin hides in her own chambers and cries for the next two days.

Finally she comes out and meets with everyone again. They are all distraught and upset, but decide that they have to find Obito before any other jedi does.

Meanwhile Obito has now learned a terrifying new power, he has learned to use his spacetime manipulation in tandem with his force drain and he can now drain life from across lightyears. He now hunts for an ancient artefact that will allow him to consume the entire galaxy all at once.

A year goes by, and Minato, Rin, Kakashi, Naruto, Sasuke, Sakura, Kushina, Nagato, Yahiko, Konan, Hinata, Tenten, Itachi, Shisui along with exiled Jedi masters; Jiraiya and Tsuande, hunt for Obito, at the same time they try to figure out what happened to him and how he became like this.

During their travels they learn from a former Sith, that there are legends of a mysterious dark side order deep in the unknown regions. Known as the sorcerers of Rhand. The sith explain that unlike the sith, who seek power, the sorcerers seek death and destruction.

This gives them an idea of what happened to Obito.

They encounter him on several occasions, each time he quickly teleports away before they can get close to him. Many more jedi and Republic troops die as well as hundreds of star systems.

Eventually the group decide to set a trap for him, to lure him to them.

Using an ancient sith artefact as bait, they bring Obito to them and they all engage him in combat.

However Obito is still too powerful for them to subdue.

However they are able to damage his mask once again, so that the right side of his face is exposed.

Rin and the others beg and plead with him, to stop what he’s doing and to come home.

But Obito just says that the Obito they knew is gone, and that what they see before them is all that remains.

Minato, Kakashi and Rin sob and apologise for failing him.

Obito remains silent and stares at them. Before finally saying that he is not their failure.

That they didn’t kill Obito Uchiha… But He did.

He ignites his darksaber and slowly begins to move forward, he says he will end everything, and give the jedi the peace they desire. By bringing death to everything.

Rin feels her heartbreak into a million million pieces. She cries hard than ever, and asks what happened to him, what made him like this. What made him empty and dark.

Obito only answers with a cryptic “I did.” He continues to advance towards them in a slow pace.

Rin breaks down and begs Obito to come home with them, and she screams out loud that she loves him, she has always loved.

Obito stops dead in his tracks. He stares at Rin as her words sink in.

She loves him.

For the first time in years this breaks through the endless darkness that had enveloped Obito and his feelings are once again awoken with a fury. The war between his emotions starts up again as the darkness and emptiness slowly starts to dissipate.

And for the first time, Obito’s eyes change, not to the sith red, but back to their natural obsidian.

It is in that moment that Rin can see the turmoil and conflict inside him, buried deep under a shroud of darkness and numbness.

But before long Obito’s eyes flicker into sith red and then back into their hollow black.

He then stares at all of them one last time, before he whispers, barely audible; I’m sorry and then teleports away.

CLIFFHANGER!!!!

We are nearing the end...

MY heart. I LOVE THIS.

More!!!! Now!!!!

[mortismars]

The first time Scott felt l heartbreak was a moment he couldn’t really recall now. It was locked away in his mind, in a past life he only remembered through the hazy fog of dreams, fragments that smelled of freshly-tilled soil and gunpowder, along with a crown of blood-soaked poppies. The dreams that held those hidden memories always ended with a sharp pain in his throat, from the sorrow of his heart breaking or an arrow in his neck he could never quite remember upon it startling him awake. Perhaps it was both, he considered once, but it never did to dwell on heartbreak. So he didn’t.

In the end, his reward for the ignorance he invited was the ability to keep his memories at the end of the next Game. After his victory, and what a reward it had been, he would sometimes think sourly, he had to continue to possess so many memories of panic and betrayal and desperation while all others were permitted to live as blissful fools. Some more unaware than others, he’d think wistfully, watching the canary of their Games in his happy nervous cheer; he was clueless of the events that had occurred before and how lucky he was for it, though Scott would never say he *envied* someone who so invited death. At least Scott had never felt the disconnected gaping wound that the breaking of a heart left behind in the series he had won, and privately he doubted he would have been able to live with the memories of such a feeling, though some part of him still wondered if he could. Wondered if knowing would make waking up from those dreams that felt of heartbreak, spectral and lighter than it should be, any easier.

In their newest Game, still underway as he lay in bed pondering heartbreak after waking up from another dream with the ghost of the feeling, his heart wrenches in his chest in that same way it had only hours before, misty and foggy and disconnected. Painful. It was heartbreak, once again, but it wasn’t his own. He’d felt pangs of sorrow and fury from Pearl through their bond. Feelings of betrayal, he thought, though not without stamping them out. She’d betrayed him first, it didn’t matter if she had meant to or not, he resolved. But this feeling, it wasn’t sharp in the way that those directed at him through their bond were. It felt like a wail, not a scream. It left him feeling like he’d been drenched in ice water, and he shook as he sat up, his dog scrambling onto his bed and nosing his side, aware of Pearl’s pain reflected into his own mind. His shaking hands reached mutedly with slow careful movements to his dog who whines with concern until Scott presses his face into her fur for comfort. He needed to find out what had happened to Pearl, a small part of himself he thought he’d long banished urged. Address this feeling that made him so unable to process anything going on around him so late at night, when his focus was usually so sharp. He heard the scrape of paws from the worried pup on the door as he locked it behind him.

Pearl was furious when he found her standing on a hill with the moon at a glorious midnight high, turned red by a rare lunar eclipse. She wasn’t furious at him though, or rather she was, but not pointedly in the way she was frustrated with herself. When her words came spilling out, Scott dismissed them as per usual and didn’t pay them any mind until, “and then Tilly *died*!” That feeling returned in full force for a moment, that heartbreak, before giving way to numb smothering sorrow. Tilly, her dog, oh of course, Scott realized. There’s no one else for her, she lost…she’d lost the only one to stay by her side. “You do have my condolences for that,” he managed through it. The emotions that were his own felt soft and warm and unusual, not sharp-edged pity like he had felt upon learning of Tango taking Jimmy down with him, or smug ice-cold superiority when Etho and Joel fell. Pearl had lost her dog, and Scott felt sympathy. His own pet at home, probably curled up on his bed with no one there to stop her. She’d be keeping herself awake with worry until he returned, and Tilly was dead, and Scott held Pearl’s shoulders for a moment and they both sat in their shared feeling of heartbreak.

[morvaris-archive]

OOO 1, 7, 8, 16, 19, 28 and 30 for zarra!! :D

YESS ZARRA QUESTIONS, thank youuuu!! 🥰

1. What’s your oc’s most irrational fear? Is there a specific reason this fear came about?

they're afraid of the ocean or of any deep water. and it's really irrational in their case, because they can't explain why they're afraid for they lost their memory. for them there's no reason behind this weakness, becuase it's a fear from the past they can't even remember. and why of all things to drag from the past it had to be a phobia, and not a good memory. it's.. heartbreaking and it angers them to no end.

7. What song reminds you of this oc? Does this match up with the type of music your oc likes to listen to?

we have it all by pim stones. listen, it just.. it fits them and their stiry so much. they are so determined to punish those who betrayed them, those who took their entire identity from them that they ignore everything else. they build nothing, and once they get what they want, once they kill the traitor, they'll realise that they still have nothing. and it even less now, because their drive, their hate is no more. they have no love for the world for they didn't even try to fall in love with it again. they have their revenge, but they nothing else.

and they are alone.

8. What’s it like inside your oc’s mind? (Literally, or metaphorically.)

oof. um, dark. very very very dark. their mind is basically nothing more than a coctail of anger and hatred and sorrow for what they lost and for what they'll never have.

16. What’s your oc’s nighttime routine like?

depends where they are. if they're on a road, they won't sleep at all, just rest near the fire and keep watch, maybe hunt for something to eat. if they're staying somewhere, then their routine still involves making sure they're safe. putting wards everywhere they can, checking their weapons and locks. only then will they take a bath if it's possible and just go to sleep. nothing special except for their paranoia

19. How would an enemy describe this oc?

scary asdhasdhjasdjhk

no, really, they are terrifying. especially for their enemies; they are merciless, their dark eyes are a void with no emotion other than fury and hunger for blood. it's a terrifying sight seeing them during a fight that's for sure.

enemies that are not so easily frightened would describe them as irrational or too angry, which they can easily use for their advantage.

28. What’s your favorite thing about this oc?

as a writer i'd say it's how angry they are, because it's very funny to write. but as a creator of this character, i'd say their ability to still feel after what they've been through. yes, they mainly feel dark and negative emotions, but they still feel joy or sorrow. they didn't numb themself, they still let themself feel.

30. Tell a random fact about this oc!

they carry a journal with them and they write about the people they meet there. usually about how annoying they are..

[rosenongrata]

Ancient Dreams in a Modern Land

⋯ 𓆩♡𓆪 Summary. Two sides of the same coin—the divine man and the accursed lady will one day intertwine.

⋯ 𓆩♡𓆪 A/N. this took fucking forever. BUT I AM DID IT! apparently experiencing a significant amount of anger, loneliness, and heartbreak does shit to an mf! cw for death

⋯ 𓆩♡𓆪 AO3 Link. || Directory.

⋯ 𓆩♡𓆪 Chapter W.C. 1.7k

⋯ 𓆩♡𓆪 CW. the abyss order are blatant bastards, no shame fr. eventual romance. blood & injury & violence. trauma/mental illness exploration. slow burn. death & grieving. OC-CENTRIC, OC-INSERT. OC X CANON.

Chapter 7 — Familiar Taste of Poison

That night, after finding the orphanage to take care of the young boy Lanqing, Hauteclaire spends the rest of her Mora on wine. After sufficiently getting drunk off her behind, she trudges and wobbles out of the city. Now that she has the right medicine for Eduard, she can finally resume taking care of him (and hoping that Ramona gets off her back.)

Although, in the dead of night as she walks along the manmade path back to Mondstadt…

A Treasure Hoarder's arrow pierces her right through the back—spearing an artery near her heart. Stumbling forward, she soon collapses to the ground with a grunt. Then, she feels her body growing numb and still—just like so many years ago. Unable to physically panic, her mind begins to run.

(It better not be the Abyss again… It couldn't be Hilichurls, they don't know how to make or use paralytics. Who is it, then—?) She snaps out of her drunken haze, the fear settling in. And then she hears grave voices.

"I think we shot down the wrong person…" A human voice utters as several sets of footsteps approach her paralyzed body.

(I need to play dead… Maybe they're dumb enough.) She remains as still as possible. (They're definitely human, too… Thankfully.)

"We didn't get a description of the person from that…contact, so I'm pretty sure we got the wrong lady." Another voice chimes in.

"Ugh, now we need to hide the body. Remove that arrow and she'll be dead in seconds." Someone with confidence in their tone says, and she can only assume it's their commander.

Dead in seconds, huh? That's what they think, she smirks mentally.

—

Waking in the early hours of the morning—the silence and darkness that traps her are deafening. While stuck, she judges that she's in a shallow, poorly-made grave. Sighing mentally, she then uses the rest of her strength to start digging out of the small burial mound. 

Finally finding air and sunlight once more, she takes a deep breath. Her hands grasp the bottom edge of the rectangular grave, pulling her head just above ground. Her stark yet pale golden eyes find the grave diggers without struggle and with a smirk,

"If the Abyss can't hold me down, neither can hell."

—

After knocking out the last gravedigger—with fists and fury alone—she spares their lives. She's not the murdering type, at least according to herself. Although, despite sparing them, their unconscious bodies still litter the gravesite. She scoffs, throwing all three of them—one by one—into the shallow hole. 

Reap what you sow, as they say. 

With that done, she moves on with her new day—doing her damnedest to take it easy and avoid trouble at the same time. Covered in lots of dirt and some blood, she trudges back to Mondstadt, even through rain and mud. 

But little does she realize...

—

Arriving back in Mondstadt, Hauteclaire yawns loud and clear while the sun hovers overhead. As she yawns longer than anticipated, she pats her hands over every pocket on her person. At first, relatively empty pockets didn't strike her as odd—no thanks to her tired condition. But, when it hits her that her pockets are empty...

Then she realizes that all her belongings are gone.

Gone.

(Dammit! I should've checked my pockets before I left!) Her teeth clench behind her lips that screw shut. Immediately, her body tenses up. (My keys... My wallet... The medicine...) Her eyes tightly shut, holding back frustrated tears that well up.

Then, she stares down at her trembling hands—seeing the blood of all her mistakes on her hands. But, in the end, it's a mere hallucination. One she can't get past even to this day.

...The Void Realm has its way of leaving lingering effects on a person like that.

"No... No... It's all my fault—"

"Oh, Lady Hauteclaire, there you are—" A familiar voice chimes in—polite and gentle, yet anxiety is apparent from the tremble in the voice. "Are you alright...?" They follow up, noticing her strange behavior.

"Ah!" Hauteclaire gasps, nearly screaming instead. She shakes off her worries and stress for the moment only to see Jean in front of her. 

It's been so long since they've talked... One can guess that's simply what growing up does.

"Oh, I'm sorry—!" Jean jumps slightly, "I didn't mean to scare you..." She explains with a slow voice, not wanting to further spook her old babysitter.

Hauteclaire takes in a few deep breaths to recompose herself, "It— It's alright." She nods, looking right as rain as she can manage within moments. "What's up?"

"Ah, well..." Jean flusters a little, a soft pink tint rising to her cheeks. She then clears her throat and straightens her back, "I've been...temporarily promoted to the Grandmaster position of the Knights. It's only while Grandmaster Varka is away." She explains, albeit still rather sheepishly.

"I see. Congratulations on such a strenuous promotion. I mean... It's wonderful as it is strenuous. But, still, I think you're the perfect candidate." Hauteclaire assures.

"You truly think so?" Jean gasps a little, a tiny smile making its way to her lips. "Well, uhm—" Then her face falls again, "I've been stuck... Or, at least, that's how it feels these past couple of first days as the new Acting Grandmaster." Her gaze drifts away, staring out to the city laid before them.

"About what specifically?"

"I am...unsure of how to divide my attention to so many tasks. I am already adjusted to being so busy, but this is a whole new level."

"You should ask your coworkers their thoughts on that, I think. I don't have much—if any at all—expertise as a knight, so I wouldn't be able to provide much of anything that's substantial." Hauteclaire explains, "Regardless, you should listen to others' thoughts and opinions almost always. They can offer new perspectives and insight."

"Oh! That's perfect!" Jean lights up, looking back at the older woman again with sparkles in her eyes, "Th-thank you so much, Lady Hauteclaire." She nods, "I must be off now, but... I will repay you with some dinner tonight if that's alright." 

"Sure." Hauteclaire nods back.

And with that, Jean rushes off back to the Knight's headquarters. Hauteclaire sighs and rubs either side of her aching nose bridge with both hands.

—

No one has seen Ramona in the flower shop today despite the sign on the window saying it's open. Some patrons threatened to call in one of the Knights to look for the young owner, but every person rejected the idea as soon as it came into their heads. Instead, they would leave the shop and go to the other florist in the city to get what they were pining for.

None of them know how her unsteady breaths and quaking sobs fill every corner of the hardly lit room she sits in. Her warm hand grasps the colder one that lies limp next to her on the sofa. She whimpers and sniffles—she no longer cares about the bitter stench of death around her.

"I'm sorry, Papa... I couldn't do anything for you after all..." She chokes on more of her salty tears, "I'm so pathetic..." She sighs, relief washing over her from the solitary moment of being able to breathe.

Her tired brown eyes flit open halfway, barely managing a half-hearted glare at the brand-new Dendro Vision that rests on the floor in front of her. Its green glow illuminates her face and the wooden ceiling.

"Even the Gods are mocking me for my incompetence..." 

"Ramona? I'm back!" A familiar voice shouts from the nearby foyer.

It's Hauteclaire.

“Clara…” Ramona mutters without an ounce of energy. And then her eyes fall shut once more as the older woman enters the dimly lit room. She's now lost the energy to say a single word more.

"...Ramona?" Hauteclaire speaks once more, the stench of the deceased hardly budges her—or even alerts her. After spending so much time in the Abyss, the scent of death is almost a breath of fresh air compared to that suffocating, inodorous darkness. Mondstadt's sweet breezes were more jarring than human expiration.

Of course, while it takes time, the tired woman catches onto the scent. She doesn't gag—it doesn't even make her eyes water. If anything—it's familiar to her, bringing a faint sense of nostalgia. She doesn't revel in it, though, she moves on as she must. Death is all but a cold and familiar embrace.

"...I was too late." The family friend bemoans in a subdued tone, one hardly audible. "Ramona. Listen to me." She approaches the young lady, grabbing her arm—

Smack!

Now there's a red hand mark across her cheek.

"Leave me alone! Leave me with him! Please, one more hour!" Ramona wails, her sobbing fit coming back to her tenfold as she curls up closer to the side of the sofa. "Please... Please... Come back, Papa..." She whimpers and whines before choking on her tears, gagging on her own snot and grief.

Hauteclaire doesn't budge, but her grip on Ramona's arm loosens to a more comfortable grasp. When she begins to choke a little too hard on her tears, Hauteclaire pulls her to her feet before throwing the shorter lady over her shoulder. Ramona's eyes screw shut even tighter as she begins to kick and scream, "Let me go! Let me go!" Yet Hauteclaire ignores her desperate demands.

They arrive outside in the sunlight—it's still as bright and warm as ever. The sun doesn't simply yield to death, the stars shine even in darkness. Hauteclaire sets Ramona down on her feet again—and when the younger woman tries to charge back inside, the older one pulls her in close.

"You need sunlight," Hauteclaire advises; her voice abruptly soft, contrasting her firm hold around her. "Please, Ramona, breathe... Deep breaths from your stomach, alright?" She whispers, watching her do as told, "Thank you. That's a good girl." She runs a hand through Ramona's messy hair, bringing some solace to her grieving heart.

"Bring him back... Bring him back, Clara..." Ramona weeps, her weary head falling against the other's shoulder. Her eyes are heavy as stone from the hours of grieving, it's a feat by itself that she can keep them open enough to lock eyes with the one holding her. "Or... Or...keep holding me. For just a while longer..." A heavy sigh leaves her chest, eyes finally shutting from exhaustion.

"...I will, Ramona. I will do exactly that."

And so she did. 

Navigating the lightning storm of grief and heartbreak is something none can prepare for. But, at least silently existing in someone's arms for a while helps a little, right? 

To hold and to be held is human, after all.

[crazywritingbug]

Lessons

A/N: Thanks to @thebiggestnaturaldisaster for suggesting this! I love the concept and did my best, though I'm not sure about the ending. Let me know what you think!

Jack Frost x Fem! Reader

If there was anything Y/N had learned in her nineteen years of life it was this; even the best people will make stupid decisions, all the while believing they were right. She’d done it more than once, was it so hard to think that Jack would do the same? But then again, this was extreme.

“Okay North,” Y/N sighed, rubbing at her temples. “Go over this one more time. What happened?”

North shook his head, leaning back in his chair across the table from her. “You don’t believe me, little one?”

“Pitch attacking the pole, getting Jack alone in a sphere of black sand for three minutes then Jack helping Pitch after they came out of it, is kinda hard to believe.” Y/N claimed, waving away the elf that offered her a cookie. “I’m just trying to figure out what’s missing here. What was said or done in those three minutes?”

“I do not know what was said.” North shook his head before pointing to his bandaged feet. “I know I have frostbite.”

What was there to say to that? It just seemed so impossible that Jack Frost, guardian of fun, the cheerful winter spirit and her best friend of three years would turn on the guardians like that. How could three years be undone in three minutes? What could Pitch have possibly said or done to get Jack to join forces with him? Threaten him? No, they’d beat Pitch before, threats would be useless. Bribe him? With what? Jack had his memories and believers. Mind control? That was outlandish and way beyond Pitch’s skill set? So what had happened? Some combination of the three? And what were they going to do about it?

A chill slipped down her spine. Jack had switched sides. He was one of the bad guys now if the worst really had happened. The Guardians would fight against him and she had no control over that. She was just a girl, they wouldn’t listen to her. And how far would they go? How far would Jack go? Or Pitch? How far? Death? No...she needed to stop this before it started.

“What can I do to get Jack back?” Y/N asked, and North cracked half a smile.

“Talk to him, Little One.” He sighed, picking up a snow globe that had been resting on the desk. “Bring back Jack Frost. You might be the only one who can.”

The world she stepped into was one of snow and wind that knocked her off her feet into a snowbank. A blizzard? Jack had created a blizzard? She’d known he could do it, but she’d never thought it would be this powerful, with snow flying so fast it bit into her skin and created a whiteness so thick she couldn’t see her hands as she staggered to her feet. Why would he make it this strong? Why would he create it in the first place? Unless he really had turned to the dark side?

“Jack!” She screamed it into the fury of the storm, getting only a mouthful of icy snow in return. Where was he in this mess? How was she supposed to find him when she couldn’t even see anything but white?

Y/N jumped as a pair of arms wrapped around her from behind, capturing her in a familiar embrace. Jack. He was the only one who ever hugged her like this, from behind, arms crossing over her so that one hand rested on her shoulder and the other on her waist. She sighed, leaning back into him as the wind slowed and the snow subsided into a few fluttering flakes, bringing the bare forest into view. Nothing but snow, trees, and sky for miles.

“What are you doing here?” Jack’s voice was soft with worry, his breath a chill on her ear.

“I’m here because you are, Jack.” She tried to look over her shoulder at him, to see more than the frost blue sleeves of his hoodie. Wait...that was wrong, his hood wasn’t blue, it was black, a deep black in a violent contrast to the frost that fringed it. This really wasn’t right, just how far was he going with this? He loved the blue, it was his favorite color. Would he really change it? Why was he changing allies and clothes? What had Pitch said or done?

“What happened at the Pole?” Y/N kept her voice soft, but it was like she’d shouted with how he pulled away. The snow crunched under her sneakers as she turned to look at him. It wasn’t just the hoodie that changed color, there was black sand caught up in his hair, turning it a pale gray, almost the same grey as a corpse’s skin. He wasn’t smiling, and his eyes were...guarded, untrusting, hard. He was so many things at once, standing there in the aftermath of the snow storm; powerful, dark, and...afraid. She could see it in the way he gripped his staff until the tendons in his hands showed, the way he shifted on his feet, and the way his gaze flickered from one spot to another. It almost broke her. How could she help him? How was she supposed to fix this? What had happened to him? This wasn’t the Jack Frost she knew, the one she -secretly- loved. That Jack Frost was open, happy, and brave, and lost somewhere inside of whoever this was standing before her.

“Jack, you’re my best friend,” Y/N tried to keep her words from sounding like the plea they were. “What happened? Why are you working with Pitch Black?”

He wouldn’t look at her, glancing down at his feet instead. “He showed me some things.”

“What things?” She shook her head slightly, trying to clear the disbelief. “What could he possibly show you that would make you turn on everything you believe and stand for?”

He didn’t answer, the silence filling the space between them, the tension almost screaming at them in those moments.

“I showed him you.” Pitch materialized, stepping out of the shadows behind Jack, a smile on his face that had a chill slipping down her back. “I showed him all the terrible things that could happen to you, things he’d be powerless to stop unless the world believes in, and fears him.”

Oh. Wait, Jack was so concerned about her that he turned on the Guardians? Did he really care about her that much? Was it possible he loved her as she loved him? Was there really a chance of that? No, this wasn’t the time to think about that, to face that the love she had for him from the very moment they met could be returned. From the very moment they met...

“Jack,” His eyes met hers, rich with so many emotions it was heartbreaking. “Do you remember how we met?”

A smile flickered on his face. “Yeah, you were watching Jamie and Sophie, you took them to the pond to go ice skating.”

Y/N nodded. “I slipped on the ice, but you caught me. You’ve always caught me, Jack. Nothing can hurt me when you’re around.” For a moment, the really Jack shone through, a flicker of happiness in the storm.

Then Pitch spoke. “But he can’t be everywhere at once can he? Can’t be at your side every moment of every day.” The happiness vanished as more words poured out of Pitch’s mouth. “But if the world feared him, the storms and cold he could bring, nobody would dare to touch you, nobody would ever hurt you. You’d both be untouchable, and I can make that happen. Can the Guardians?”

“I’m…” Jack paused, seeming to search for words even as Pitch laid a hand on his shoulder in a grip that even she could see was tight. “I’m just trying to protect you.”

Tears pricked at her eyes, blurring her vision. That was so incredibly sweet, and so wrapped up in delusion. How was she supposed to counter that? How was she supposed to explain to him that enveloping the world in darkness and ice wouldn’t keep her safe? He’d gone this far to do it, what would it take to make him see this wasn’t going to work?

“This isn’t the way to do that.” She shook her head and swiped at an escaped tear. “You’re going up against the Guardians, and even if you win, you know you’d never forgive yourself.” She wiped away another tear, they were coming faster now. “I don’t know if I would. I would try, but I don’t know if I’d be able to.” She sucked in a shake breath and held his gaze. “Please Jack, I love you, don’t do this.”

Jack didn’t move, didn’t say a word, as if he’d been -ironically- frozen. Not even Pitch moved, just the soft fluttering snowflakes that drifted down from the sky and caught in their hair. The whole world was holding its breath, waiting for Jack to decide. How would he choose? A week ago, she’d thought she’d known, but now, after this, what would his answer be?

Finally, after an infinite moment, he smiled and held out his arms, shaking off Pitch’s hand. Oh thank the moon. It was as if every weight had lifted off her shoulders as she ran the short distance to him, right into his embrace as his staff fell to the wayside. A relieved laugh escaped her lips as she clung to him, burying her face in his hoodie, feeling his heart beating rapidly in time with hers, his arms around her, and his fingers tangling in her hair. He was back, Jack Frost was back.

“I am so sorry Y/N,” His words were a soft murmur in her ear, but he could have yelled it for all she cared. He was back. “I just want to keep you safe.”

“Then you shouldn’t have chosen as you did.” Pitch’s voice answered before she could. Before they could even respond pain exploded in her side. Sharp piercing pain mixing with a deep screaming agony that turned her legs to jelly beneath her. It was only Jack’s arms that kept her from collapsing as the world came into a strange sort of focus, like a camera bringing one thing at a time into a sharp contrast and blurring the rest. The warmth of the blood seeping from around the knife blade. The panic in Jack’s voice as he said her name. The coldness of the snow and his hands pushing her hair back out of her face as he looked down at her. The rolling clouds above.

“Y/N, stay with me.” Jack’s voice again, quick and fear filled. “Please, stay awake, stay with me.” The focus adjusted again, this time on the tears that were filling his gemstone blue eyes and rolling down his cheeks. He was crying, it wasn’t that bad was it? The pain was already numbing...or maybe that was just her body shutting down. Was this what it was like to die? What would come after? Would it be like sleeping? Would she see Heaven? Would her family know what happened? Would they be okay? What about Jamie and Sophie? They were such sweet kids, would their new babysitter know that they loved to go to the pond or that Sophie liked to have her hair braided and shouldn’t be trusted with scissors? Would Jack be okay? He looked so scared, his hands pressing against her side, covered in blood. Would he know just how much she really loved him? How much she wish she had the chance to do more than say it? That she wanted the chance to live it? To show him that she loved him with more than she could even put into words? That all of it, his laugh, his jokes, his voice, bravery, creativity, and even just the way he moved, was her favorite thing about him.

She tried to form the words, to tell him it was okay, to say that she loved him one more time as she reached up and wiped away the tears, but her mouth wouldn’t form the words as her eyes slipped shut.

“Y/N! No! Stay awake! Please!” Jack’s voice echoed in her ears as the darkness swallowed her, so still and quiet. Silent like she’d never imagined, but this wasn’t it, she was moving. Up, she was moving up towards a light. Huh, apparently the cliches were right. But nobody had ever mentioned the voice that whispered out of the darkness.

“You’re not done yet. Somebody would miss you.”

It all came back at once. The cold, the sobs, and the faint light from the sky above. The shock left her breathless for a moment, and then gasping for air. What had just happened? Had she really died only to get sent back? That was not what she expected. But Jack...he was the one sobbing, the most broken and shattered sound she could imagine. It crushed her heart, shattering it into broken, grating pieces.

“Jack?” Her voice came out softer than she expected, as if her body wasn’t used to having her in it again, letting alone speaking. Maybe that was why it was so hard to get her eyes open before Jack was gathering her up into a hug so tight it bordered on painful. It was if that was what it took to wake her limbs up to return the hug, for her to hide her face in his shoulder. Holy cow, she was alive! Pitch Black had stabbed her and she died but she was alive! Wait he’d stabbed her...she wasn’t bleeding! There was no pain! It was like nothing had happened.

“I’m okay Jack!” She wasn’t sure if she was laughing or crying, the relief was overwhelming. “I’m okay!” Jack pulled back slightly, his eyes wide, looking her over before he laughed.

“You’re okay!” He exclaimed, the biggest smile she’d ever seen on his face. Then his hands were on her face and his lips on hers. Y/N melted into the kiss, into the sweet moment. It was so gentle, so tender, and so much better than she would have dreamed. She never wanted it to end, never wanted him to pull away, even if he did rest his forehead against hers, noses bumping, as he let out a breathy laugh.

“I shouldn’t have waited so long to do that.” His gaze held hers, so overwhelmingly loving. “I love you, Y/N. I am way too lucky to get a chance to say that.”

“We both are,” Y/N said, “Just please, don’t ever do something like that again.”

“I won’t, I promise. It was stupid of me…” Jack pulled back, shaking his head. “I don’t know why helping Pitch Black would ever work…” He paused and his smile vanished. “Pitch! We need to stop him!” He scrambled to his feet, pulling her up with him. “He’s going to go after the Guardians again, after what I did at the Pole, I don’t know how long they’ll be able to hold out.” He snatched up his staff, looking up at the sky, then back to her. “Did North give you a way to get home?” She nodded, “You go save the world, I’ll be fine.” He grinned at her as he caught her around the waist, pulling her close into another kiss. It was almost better than the first. But this time, as she pulled away, she reached up and ruffled his hair, shaking out the black sand. “There, that’s better.”

“I’ll see you soon.” Jack smiled at her one last time and then he was gone. Y/N lingered though, not touching the snow globe that was in her pocket. How had so much happened in so little time? Talking Jack down, dying and then coming back, and finally knowing that Jack loved her? Had it really all happened in less than a day?

Sighing she looked up to the sky feeling the snowflakes fall on her face and melt. Yeah, a lot had happened, meaning she had a lot to be grateful for, she had a chance to be grateful for. She got to tell Jack she loved him, got to see him make the right choice, and find out that he loved her right back. She might not have gotten the chance to say or do any of that. It could have all been opportunities lost with her life. She should have done and said it sooner. Huh, there was another lesson: don’t hesitate because it could all end in a second and the chance to do or say that thing would be gone.

As usual, if you would like to be added to my tag list, please message me.

Tags: @missbeautyandherbeast @akari180 @bluesakurablossom @raphlife @marimo-punk @msmcsmutt @gruffle1 @sweetkitty @dolphincommander @trtlpwr @ilikestuffproductions @jessicarosequinzelfleck @missdawnandherdusk @thebiggestnaturaldisaster @gladiosamicitias @professor-hibiscus @jessicarosequinzelfleck

[ja3hwa]

Yunho || Never Let You Go

Word count: 2.1k

Genre: Angst, Heartbreak, Sad times

Warnings: Too many!! Swearing, heavy verbal and physical abuse. Spitting, hateful words about readers body image (nothing specific but its still there). Degrading readers intelligence. Let me know if I missed something.

Notes: Readers Boyfriend is an abusive person. Yunho is our saver that gives great bear hugs. Honestly I don't really like this but I've been thinking about this scenario for a while, so yeah.

Also this not to make abuse look aesthetic nor romanticise it. This is purely for reading purposes. If you don't like it please block me.

Lightings everywhere, loud music blazing and chatting among colleagues. An evening party to celebrate a new year for K-idols. You are grateful to be able to meet or catch up with anyone from different groups, both male and female. It was amazing, given your only a dance teacher for most of these people, you don't get the closeness like this evening is giving.

"I'm going to just speak to someone and then we can leave." Your boyfriend spoke quick, blunt and emotionless. Leaving in a second but not before demanding you to meet him outside in the parking lot. You sigh, agreeing before heading out. You didn't want to leave but deifying or biting back at him would lead to unspeaking actions. But that was what your relationship was, that's how it was supposed to be. right?

- Earlier that evening -

You and your boyfriend were walking towards the back entrance of the event hall after Luke was finally finished his cigarette. He didn't want to leave you inside by yourself because in his words spoke I don't trust you to not talk to other males. You keep your arms crossed over your chest keeping in the warmth of your body, seeing your breath as you sigh quietly.

"So a little birdy told me that you've been with that ateez boys again." You heard him spit out his words, making your heart drop.

"Uh, what are you talking about baby? I-I only work in the same company, I would never--." You cut yourself off afraid of getting into more trouble. Tempting to lie to him was not the best but if he found out you were sneaking around to hang out with people, especially with males, you and them would certainly die.

"Don't lie to me." He stops dead in his tracks, making you turn to look at him. You try not to make eye contact as he walks closer to you, only becoming an inch away. He grabs your arm, making you flinch slightly at the sudden pressure.

"Aw baby." He strokes your arm sinisterly, pulling you face up by your chin so you are forced to look at him in the eyes. He brings twos fingers up to a strand of hair that fell in front of your face, pulling it behind your ear. A disgusted feeling hits in the pit of your stomach, feeling your jaw whimper at the feeling of the terrifying male towering over you.

"You know lying causes more trouble. Now tell me, am I not good enough? I know we don't have sex but that's because your body is disgusting and you don't satisfy my needs. You know I come first. So tell me why you must go around being a slut and sleep with them. And out of anyone, them?! it's like you are trying to make me mad." He pinches the bridge of his nose, spitting out swears and profanities. You stay frozen unable to find the words to say, too scared if you say something wrong you'll upset him further.

"I'm sorry but I didnt--DON'T FUCKING LIE TO ME." He slaps the left side of your face hard, making you fall to the cold damp ground. You feel tears swell up, beginning to fall from your red eyes as your body starts to tremble.

"Get up, mutt." He hacks, spitting down at you. You shakily get up, unaware of what his next moves were. Your legs wobble, threatening your balance. He grabs your wrist pulling your numb body to him, digging his nails into the rough flesh, fearing to draw blood.

"Luke, please... I didn't" He grabs your neck, holding it tight, blocking your air pipe with a hard grip. Your breath hitches, brain starting to go into panic mode but you don't dare put your hands up to try and stop him, letting him have his way with your ragdoll body.

"If I ever catch you with another man, especially them. I'll break your legs and blame it on a car accident. I'll destroy every part of this pathetic body and make sure you have nothing left. Cause I own you." His eyes filling with rage, his grip threatening to snap your neck. You feel weak, your vision blurring, life leaving. The feeling of loss and helplessness. He won yet again.

"I-I'm sorry." You finally get out a word, apologising for your actions. With that, he lets go of your neck scoffing as he watches your body fall back to the cold ground. You cough out feeling the oxygen flooding back to you, trying to take a deep breath.

"Let's go back inside and if anyone asks you why your face is red, you better come up with a good story." He couches down to pick up your face up by your chin. Looking at you with a head tilt giving you a blank expression.

"I do this cause I love you. You need to learn my baby." He tucks the same small piece of hair that fell in front of your face earlier that night back behind your ear.

"I love you too." You smile at him as he gets up and walks back inside leaving you alone to cry softly. You hated him, you hated yourself and what's more, you hated that in your mind you somehow thought you still loved him.

-

"Oh hey Y/n. Leaving so soon?" You glance up from looking at your feet to see none other than the Ateez boy's hanging around in the back entrance parking lot, seeming like they were waiting for their ride to also leave for the night.

"Yeah, it's getting late. Besides, I have practise tomorrow. I'm helping Lisa with a photoshoot so I can't be late for that." You chuckle lying about your early retire. The boys all laugh along with you knowing the pains of getting up early.

"Y/n." You froze, instantly regretting opening your mouth, reminding yourself the reason you got hurt earlier this evening. A pit in your stomach begins to form, knowing you are going to get a worse punishment once you get home.

"I-..Luke, you ready to--"

"Why are you talking to them?" He growls clearly angry at your stupidity to talk to males. He sighs trying to keep his cool, pinching the bridge of his nose once again.

"Oh w-we work together. We were just talking about wor--."

"Did I give you permission to talk to them?" He strides towards you griping your already bruised wrist, pulling you towards him. You glance over at the others, all clearly shocked at the situation that's unfolding in front of him. But this is normal for you, to be yelled at 24/7 by the person that's supposed to be the one to make you feel safe.

You look over at Yunho, he's staring at you with so much concerning his eyes. His blood boiling at the sight of Luke gripping onto you. You feel your head spin, wanting nothing more than to break down and scream out how much Luke is abusing you. How much he hurts you. How much he makes you feel useless.

"Let's go." He pulls at your wrist but you pull back, breaking out of his grasp. His expression drops, fury in his eyes, slowing filling his body with rage.

"What are you doing?" He spits out.

What am I doing? You thought gulping at your dry saliva, heart threatening to beat out of your chest.

"Come on babe, let's. go." He states stern. Sweat forming on your brow, hands clenching into fists with balls of fabric from your shirt. You finally look at him on your own, looking dead in his eyes.

"No." You whisper, unable to speak any higher.

"WHat?" A shocked expression wipes over, biting the inner of his mouth, feeling the urge to throw his hands. Time seems to feel like it has stopped, a build-up of rage. So many emotions fuzzing your brain.

"I said no." You clear your throat. He goes to grab your arm once more but you sidestep away from him.

"Y/n I swear to god if you don't come with me right now."

"What? You'll hurt me, you have an audience now." You spat, pointing at the boy's standing awkwardly in the cold parking lot. He looks over at them making eye contact with Yunho. Mingi holds him by the shirt not wanting him to get involved just yet.

"I'm done. I don't want to be with you anymore." You finally broke your silence, the ball in your throat melting away, letting your words spill out like a river.

"What?! You're acting crazy. Did that fall mess with your brain." He lowly chuckles, trying to fake out a small laugh.

"Oh you mean the fall that happened when you hit me, yeah probably." You snapped. Hearing your words, Yunho broke from Mingis hold, fists in balls. He aimed for your boyfriend. Luckily Seonghwa grabbed his arm, making all the boys come closer to the verbal fight, trying to not step in unless you say otherwise. Luke however flipped finally having enough of your words, grabbing your arm, pulling you towards his body.

"DON'T TOUCH ME." You elbow him in the chest, pulling yourself free. Your heart swells the beat quickening as if it was going to burst outright of your chest. You look back to see Yunho with rage in his eyes being held back by not only Seonghwa but now Mingi and Wooyoung too. You scan the parking lot to see no one else. Sighing, you give a brief smile to the boys before looking back at Luke.

"You know what Luke, you are a disgusting, selfish, and pitiful women beater." Your words spill, choking lightly, you forbid yourself to cry in front of him, not to dare give him any satisfaction. Your heart snaps, breaking your silence.

"If you don't get what you want, you hurt people until you do. I'm done. You always tell me to fake a smile and tell everyone how perfect our relationship is. But in fact, I have nothing to smile about when I'm with you..." You step forward, making Luke take two steps back. You point at him, your face flushing red as rage now fueled your words.

"I've been waiting so long to finally have the strength and courage to tell you I don't owe you a god damn thing!" you scream your last words, finally getting your first breath of freedom in a while. He drops his image, glance at the males watching the intense show. Clicking his knuckles not caring about them seeing what is unfolding anymore.

"So you think you can do whatever you want because you have an audience behind you?" He growls bending to your eye level.

"You're so fucking stupid somethings. God, you make my life so fucking difficult." He sighs throwing his hands in the air, you flinch slightly, trying your best to stand your ground but your body is still afraid of him. He notices that giving out a light chuckle.

"I own you, I own your life, I gave you everything! You are mine!! I control you." He throws a tantrum feeling himself not getting his way. You look to the floor giving out a small laugh at his words, quickly wiping a stray tear before he could see.

"You own me? You gave me nothing! If you really did own me, control everything I do. Would I be able to do this?" You turn around looking Yunho dead in the eyes, Seonghwa and the others let him go, giving him the clear to finally intervein. You walk up to him in a second wrapping your arms around his neck pulling him close.

"Kiss me," You whisper, pulling him into a fuzzy and warm kiss. Passion spilling from both of you. Your heart skipping, never feeling such an emotion from only being with Luke. The kiss is different, something loving. You let go of him as he lets out a small droughted breath, shocked yet elated. Your attention back to Luke, you see him walking with full force toward Yunho. You move in front of him slapping him clean in the face, nearing making him lose his footing.

"You..." He holds his right cheek, spitting onto the floor. You hear faint 'ouch' and 'oohs' from the boys behind you. Luke noticing the noise to he grunts, standing up while fixing his suit.

"You know what, I just realised I'm still needed inside." He closes the button on his suit jack before scoffing off back towards the side entrance of the hall.

"I'm going to call the police." He stops dead in his tracks looking back at you in disbelief.

"I'm going to get all my things from your house. then I never want to see or speak with you again." He doesn't respond, taking in a large breath from his sniffling nose, he walks back inside. The minute he disappears from your view. The world feels like it came crashing down, all the pain and fear that was building for years, washed away in a second. You fall to the ground as your legs gave out from under you, finally letting your emotions overwhelm you. You sob, tears falling faster than rain.

"Y/n." You're quickly comforted by all the boys, all around you, calling out 'are you okays' and other worries they had. None of them came thew, as your brain felt like it was slowly shut down. The cold of the floor and wind was soon taken away from a large bear hug, engulfing you into comfort. Yunho stroked your hair whispering soft 'shh it's okay, I've got you now.' letting you cry into his shoulder.

He was never going to let you go...

-

Tag list : @yunhofingers @softforqiankun @violetwinters @kpopmademygradesgodown @lmhmh01

[Let me know if you want to be added to my tag list]

ATEEZ MASTERLIST

[storytellerofuntoldlegends]

an icarus and his sun: chapter 6

A/N: seeing y'all freak out over the last chapter when i have the outline and i know that things get worse... it feels me with evil glee. also vyeoh drew some amazing art of the last chapter, show them some love!! <3

Warnings: crying, hugging, arguing, threats of violence, heartbreak

AO3 Link - Tumblr Masterpost

-

Jimmy still felt like he was in a daze when they made it back to his empire. Lizzie hadn’t let go of his hand once, and he was grateful for the grounding touch. She was still murmuring words of comfort and asking what happened, but Jimmy could only nod numbly. Every single thought and feeling he had of Scott felt tainted now. Was anything he had felt even real? Or did Jimmy just fall right for Scott’s plan (whatever it was) hook, line, and sinker. Just thinking about it made Jimmy feel nauseous.

Katherine and Joel landed beside Jimmy and Lizzie, and Katherine looking equally as distraught as Jimmy felt shook him out of his stupor slightly. Wordlessly he let go of Lizzie’s hand to pull Katherine into a hug. He held her tight as she hugged him back, crying into his shoulder.

“It’s gone. It’s all gone. There’s barely anything left of my castle,” she hiccuped. Jimmy didn’t know what to say as he held her, but gently rubbing her back seemed to help.

“Fwhip was plotting against the House Blossom Alliance the whole time, Sausage too. I think Gem, Pearl, and Scott were involved as well,” Joel explained. Jimmy just about shuddered at the mention of Scott, trying not to cry.

“Why would they do that?!” Lizzie gasped.

“Fwhip said something about how the alliance was too argumentative, and should be destroyed before anything worse could happen and bring down our empires,” Joel explained. Katherine let out another hiccupping sob at Joel’s words, and Jimmy murmured words of comfort to her. Then he looked up to the skies, and his heart froze. Three figures were flying towards them- one with elytra, one with bright yellow feathered wings, and one with white feathered wings tipped in gold. Joel noticed Gem, Pearl, and Scott in the air as well, and grit his teeth as he put a hand on the hilt of his sword. Lizzie rushed over and put a hand over Joel’s, shaking her head.

“Stay on guard, but let’s hear them out. We only know that Fwhip and Sausage were the masterminds behind this. But if they are here for trouble, we’ll make sure they regret it,” Lizzie said, tone going dark at the end of her statement. Joel hesitated for a moment or two, but dropped his hand from his sword with a frustrated sigh. He and Lizzie did, however, stand protectively in front of Jimmy and Katherine as Gem, Pearl, and Scott came to a landing in front of them. Jimmy let go of Katherine, but she didn’t go far, taking his hand and gripping it tightly.

“I know we’re not high on your list of people to see, but hear us out. We didn’t know that Fwhip was going to take such… drastic measures,” Pearl explained, hands up placatingly as her wings fluttered anxiously.

“But you did know Fwhip was up to something,” Joel countered.

“We knew he wasn’t super happy about the House Blossom Alliance, but we thought that he would just pull a harmless prank or pick a fight with Jimmy or something. Not destroy Katherine’s castle,” Gem continued, Pearl nodding along with her. Scott stayed suspiciously quiet, and Jimmy’s mouth settled into a firm line as he let go of Katherine’s hand.

“But Scott knew. Didn’t you,” he accused, glaring at Scott. His expression immediately turned guilty, and that was all the confirmation Jimmy needed.

“I wanted to tell you, really! But-”

“But you kissed me instead of telling me or ANYONE about Fwhip’s plan!” Jimmy shouted, stepping forward and gesturing angrily, that cold numb feeling from before now replaced with molten fury. Lizzie gasped, drawing her sword and fully intending to lunge at Scott, but Joel quickly scrambled over to hold her back.

“Joel, let go of me, I need to give Scott a piece of my mind for taking advantage of our sweet swamp boy’s heart!” Lizzie fumed, straining against Joel’s hold. Joel glared at Scott, but his grip on Lizzie didn’t let up.

“Scott, you better have an explanation for this, or I will let my wife loose on you,” Joel warned. Scott actually looked a little terrified, and part of Jimmy hated the fact that he was relieved at that.

“I should have warned people about the TNT, I know. I just- it was stupid of me to hope that Fwhip was going to change his mind. And I was going to tell Jimmy, but then I saw Fwhip in the distance, and he had his crossbow aimed at him. I- I figured that Fwhip wouldn’t take the shot if it meant hitting me too. So that’s why I kissed Jimmy, and by that point it was too late to warn anyone,” Scott explained, his expression pleading and apologetic. Joel and Lizzie seemed to accept his explanation, as Joel let go of Lizzie and she sheathed her sword- but they both still glared at him. And Jimmy wanted to believe him, wanted to say he forgave Scott and rush back into his arms again- but there was something else that bothered him.

“What did Fwhip mean, when he said something about ‘playing the part?’” Jimmy asked, absolutely terrified of the answer but needing to know the truth anyway. Scott swallowed nervously, expression overcome with guilt once more.

“Fwhip told me to keep an eye on you, make sure you wouldn’t be a problem. It wasn’t just Katherine goading me into being nice that kept me coming to your empire, at first. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t-”

“Leave,” Jimmy growled, having enough of Scott’s excuses. Scott flinched at Jimmy’s tone. Good, it was about time people stopped seeing him as the sweet swamp boy or the friendly Codfather. He was done being pushed around, done being used and tossed aside.

“Jimmy, please- believe me, I really do care-”

“I don’t wanna hear it! I’m sick of your lies and manipulation! I never want you to set foot in the Cod Empire again, if I ever even SEE you again I will make sure you regret it,” Jimmy shouted, the words fracturing his heart into a million pieces. But he couldn’t afford to trust Scott ever again.

“Jimmy…” Scott trailed off, any fight finally leaving him as his wings drooped. His gaze shifted between Jimmy’s angry glare, the tears on Katherine’s face, the glares from Lizzie and Joel, and the sympathetic and apologetic expressions on Gem and Pearl’s faces. He looked back at Jimmy one last time, eyes glassy- before taking off into the night sky. Jimmy couldn’t even watch him leave.

“We truly are sorry for everything that happened. We know it doesn’t make up for it… but we wish you the best, Codfather and allies,” Gem said softly, before taking off into the sky as well. Pearl gave them a weak smile before following Gem. Jimmy waited until he could no longer see either of them in the sky, and finally let himself cry, falling to his knees as ugly sobs wrenched their way out of his throat. Lizzie scrambled to his side, pulling him into a hug and letting Jimmy cry into her shoulder.

“It’s okay, let it out. I’ve got you,” she soothed.

“He tricked me. And like a fool I fell for it, I fell for him,” Jimmy said between sobs, desperately clutching at Lizzie. Joel came over to kneel at their side, pulling both of them into his arms and rubbing Jimmy’s back. Katherine joined the hug pile too, on the opposite side of Joel. Jimmy wasn’t sure how long the three of them all stayed there with him, but they all held him until he finally had no tears left to cry.

-

After Jimmy had finished crying, Lizzie gently prodded him into changing, insisting that he would feel better in his normal clothes. She was right, and a lot of the tension drained from his shoulders once his trusty cod head was back on his head. From there, Lizzie and Joel brought him and Katherine to Lizzie’s empire, saying that Katherine could stay in the embassy she built, and that neither of them wanted either one to be alone at the moment. Katherine and Jimmy didn’t argue, neither of them wanted to be alone either. So they ended up huddled together in Katherine’s embassy, a borrowed blanket from Lizzie over both of their shoulders. Lizzie stayed with them and made sure they were comfortable, while Joel flew to Pixandria to update Pixl on everything that had happened.

“This is all my fault,” Katherine said numbly, after a long silence. Jimmy and Lizzie looked at her in confusion.

“It’s really not, you didn’t blow up your own castle, after all,” Lizzie pointed out. Katherine smiled weakly, shaking her head.

“But none of this would have happened if I didn’t insist on making friends with everyone. Everyone would have been fine if I just stayed out of it and stopped trying to bring people together,” Katherine said, voice watery.

“Katherine, if you hadn’t tried to bring us all together, I’m sure much worse would have happened. Who knows how many empires would have been destroyed if it wasn’t for you,” Jimmy countered softly. Katherine let out a small sob, hand clasping over her mouth as she tried to collect herself.

“But if I hadn’t started those meetings, pushed you and Scott to be nice to each other- then you wouldn’t have to be feeling this way,” Katherine said, voice as fragile as glass when she dropped her hand from her mouth. Jimmy shifted to face her, gently gripping her shoulders and looking Katherine in the eyes.

“Katherine, listen to me. My- my heartbreak is not your fault. None of what is happening is your fault. If anyone’s to blame, it’s Fwhip. You hear me?” Jimmy asked, voice gentle but no less serious. Katherine’s eyes went wide.

“You’re heartbroken?” she asked in a shallow gasp. Jimmy gave her a sad smile, throat growing tight as he felt his eyes watering again- funny, he thought he had run out of tears.

“I learned what love was, only for it to get crushed barely a day or two after. So… yeah. I think I am. But that still doesn’t make it your fault,” Jimmy said, tone forlorn before it turned gentle and serious once more. Katherine let out a shaky sigh, nodding her head.

“Okay. Okay. I’m still sorry you’re feeling this way, though,” Katherine said softly. Jimmy just smiled, pulling Katherine into a hug.

“So what’s our next step? Plotting our revenge on Fwhip?” Lizzie asked, and Jimmy couldn’t help but chuckle at her casual ruthlessness.

“I think before we do anything revenge-related, we should help Katherine rebuild her castle,” Jimmy replied, frankly not wanting to think about getting revenge on Fwhip, because that would likely lead to getting revenge on Scott as well. And Jimmy definitely didn’t want to think about Scott at the moment.

“I don’t know if you’re the best person to help me build,” Katherine teased lightly. Jimmy gave her a weak smile in response.

“I think I’ll be able to manage if you’re guiding me,” he replied softly.

“I would definitely appreciate the help,” she said with a smile, and it was the first time Jimmy had seen her smile, truly smile since the ball.

“Then I’ll help, mediocre building skills or not,” Jimmy insisted, glad to have something to look forward to so he could think about anything other than Scott. He was done with him, no matter what his traitorous heart thought about his sunshine smile, his laugh of gold, or those icy blue eyes that contradicted them both. So much about Scott felt like a contradiction, now. He snarled and teased and jabbed, but there was a hidden fondness too, or at least it seemed like there was. Jimmy wasn’t sure if it was ever real to begin with. Then there was how he sided with Fwhip, even though Katherine was his true ally, a business partner too. Nothing made sense, and Jimmy wondered if he should have let Scott explain- no. Jimmy was never going to give Scott a chance to use that silver tongue on him again, paired with a smile that was only gold-plated. He wouldn’t be hurt again.

-

Taglists below! Ask to be added/removed!

MCYT General Fic Taglist: @corazon10000 @damiensaidno @franticfandomfanatic @gattonero17 @hetapeep41 @space-ace123 @vyeoh

AIAHS Taglist: @anty-kreatywna @devilwoodkitty18 @riobug

[whumperooni]

After reading about gilf Enji I had this idea which I hope isn't TOO cursed ;; so, we all like to humiliate Natsu right? imagine that papa Natsu has the biggest hots for his cute lil girl, he adores her and would want nothing more than to make her his leetle wifey BUT, she seems to like to spend all of her time with her grandpa, she's so clingy to him and so in love, so imagine Natsus heartbreak when he goes to pick her up and finds cutie and enji getting all hot in the kitchen (1/2)

(2/2) and Natsu can do nothing more than just stand there and stare at his little girl whimpering and moaning and raining loving words and praise while getting railed by Enji fucking Todoroki, the man Natsuo still hates the most and HE of all people got to claim his little girl, like wow Natsuo got not only humiliated but also cucked by his own father

Cursed???? Cursed????? Oh, nonny, this is blessed.

I took some liberties- as per usual! But I hope you still like it, nonny ♡

tags/warnings: tw incest, tw breeding kink, possessive thoughts and behavior, voyeurism, unintentional cucking

“daddy, i went to grandfather’s ^~^ can you pick me up later?”

Natsuo’s eyes close. He takes a deep breath and one more, another after that.

It doesn’t calm him. It doesn’t stop him from gritting his teeth and crushing his phone in his fist.

This is the third time this week that you’ve gone to grandfather’s. This is the third time this week that he’s had to drag himself to that hated residence and face his father, struggle with the envy over your sweet smile and the kisses you press to Enji’s cheek.

Why do you have to be so enraptured with your grandfather? Why can’t you spend more time with your father- with Natsuo?

He wants you here at home. He wants you to be his good little girl and take care of his home instead of running around doing chores for your grandfather in your short skirts and aprons, your knee high socks. You’re supposed to be daddy’s little girl preparing him dinner and snuggling up next to him on the couch, letting him dote his never ending adoration on you.

You’re supposed to be his- not Enji’s.

A sigh escapes him and Natsuo scrubs at his face, frowns as he slumps his cheek into his palm after.

He can’t decide if this is more preferable to you having a boyfriend or not; Natsuo doesn’t know what he’d do if you told him some horny little prick had captured your heart.

Your heart belongs to him- your daddy.

No one else can have it.

Natsuo’s frown grows and he glances at his phone, sends off a quick little “okay angel. i’ll be there in a bit” to you before standing from his desk.

As much as he wants to rush over and scoop you up and away, he waits. He knows how much you love Enji and he wants you to be happy- no matter how bitter it may make him.

Natsuo busies himself with taking the laundry from the dryer, folding it up. It’s mostly yours and it’s not long before he comes across a pair of cute lace panties tucked among the rest of the clothes.

He stares down at the panties- tongue darting out to lick his lips and chest moving with a deep, deep breath.

He hasn’t seen these ones before; they must be new.

Natsuo’s thumbs smooth over the lace and a slow blush begins to creep across his cheeks, his mind conjures an unbidden image of you in one of his t-shirt, the panties discarded on the floor.

He’s disgusting.

It’s wrong that he’s a little hard and it’s wrong that he brings the panties up to his nose. It’s wrong that he considers stuffing them in his pocket and it’s wrong that he can’t help imaging you perched in his lap- shivering as he hooks the panties to the side, traces a finger along your slit.

But, god, he just loves his little girl so much- more than anyone, anything. He loves you and he wants you to be his in every sort of way- daughter, wife, lover.

He’ll never tell you- he can’t ever tell you. He has to keep it deep inside, let the shame and sin fester in the darkest parts of his heart.

If you don’t know about it, it can’t hurt you. It can’t be that bad if he keeps it all stuffed down and hidden away.

...right?

(He knows it’s not right.)

A quiet groan works its way up Natsuo’s throat and he squeezes his eyes tight, clenches his hand to keep from touching himself.

...he can’t.

Natsuo’s teeth grit and he places the panties on top of your clothes, resumes folding the laundry.

He’ll get you once he’s done. And he’ll keep his shameful desires all to himself.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ 

It’s a little late once he leaves the house- a call from a business partner and an unexpected favor to the neighbor had Natsuo running late.

But, he’s here now- back at his childhood home- and steeling himself to interact with his father, antsy to get you back and away from this place.

No one answers when he knocks. Natsuo frowns, but slides the door open and toes off his shoes.

You’re not in the living room when he checks and that makes him sigh, call out your name. You don’t answer him, but there’s a noise that sounds further in the house- something that makes his brows furrow.

...what is that?

Another noise and Natsuo’s frown deepens, he begins to slowly head toward it.

It sounds like a- like a-

No, no- of course not. It’s not a moan- his mind is playing tricks on him. It’s just- it’s just-

What the hell is that noise?

Trepidation floods through him and Natsuo swallows hard- hands shaking at his sides as his heart pounds.

One steps. Two steps. Three steps. Four steps.

Four steps and then he’s in the doorway of the kitchen. Four steps and then he’s staring at something his mind can’t comprehend. Four steps and then his heart breaks, his world shatters.

“Ojii-san! Ojii-san! Feels- feels-”

A moan tears through the air and Natsuo places a hand to his mouth- eyes wide as he watches his beloved daughter- his only daughter, his precious child, his heart and love- whine and moan, arch as his father- your grandfather- rocks his hips and slides his dick inside of you.

It’s not horror that rises in Natsuo first- it’s rage. It’s envy. It’s a choked, disgusting, aching wrench of jealousy and anger and heart break.

He watches as you whimper and cling to Enji- nails digging into a broad back and your legs wrapping around a thick waist, mewls leaving you as your grandfather fucks you.

“Ojii-san, feels so good! I can’t- I can’t-”

Enji grunts and Natsuo has to watch- eyes wide and growing teary, mouth numb with his fury- as his father latches his lips to your throat, fucks into you hard enough that the dishes in the cabinets shiver and shake.

“Come, little one,” Enji growls. “Come for me again.”

Again?

A sweet mewl leaves you and so does a hiccuping sob- your hands scrambling up your grandfather’s back until you can curl fingers into his hair, your body tightening as you whine his name again and again and again.

Natsuo’s fingers dig into his cheek as he stifles a yell and he grips the doorway with his free hand, nearly falls to his knees.

That’s his baby girl. That’s his daughter. And you’re- you’re-

“Love you, ojii-san! Love you so much! Please! More! More!”

“Greedy.”

It’s the fondest Natsuo has ever heard his father sound and he hates it- he hates it so fucking much, hates how Enji muffles your moan with a kiss, hates how his big hands grip your waist as he keeps fucking into your dripping cunt.

Why is it him? Why the fuck is it him?!

Tears stain Natsuo’s cheek and his fury has him shaking, his heartbreak has him rooted in the spot- unable to turn away or call out, unable to do anything but stare in his shock and jealousy as he watches each thrust that makes your breast bounce, as he watches each rock that has you whimpering and mewling. You’re flushed and beautiful, eyes heavy lidded and lips unable to stay closed with all the sweet noises leaving you, the pleasure making you a dumb, cooing, gorgeous thing.

He’s imagined the look of ecstasy on your face so many times. It’s always been him giving you pleasure in his mind, though- never this. Never ever this.

A sick wash of envy washes over Natsuo as he watches your fingers twine tighter through salt and pepper hair, as he watches you reach a hand back to grip at a cabinet while your back arches more and your lashes flutter, a low moan leaves you.

He’s hard as he watches you and that’s when the horror comes, when the shame comes crashing in.

How is this happening? How is this happening?!

“Ojii-san! Ojji-san, please! I wanna- I want-”

A cry rips from your lips and Natsuo flinches when Enji lifts you from the counter, when you’re pressed against the kitchen floor- hips lifted up and breasts pressed against the wooden slats, your eyes shut as you whine whenever Enji braces himself over you and fills you with his cock once again.

Fuck, you look so small underneath him.

Natsuo swallows hard and he takes a trembling step back, is still unable to tear his eyes away even as Enji starts rutting into you again, even as his big hands slide to thread his fingers through yours and he leans down to rumble out,

“I’ll give you what you want, little one. Ojii-san will fill you.”

Fill...fill...

Natsuo’s cock throbs and he goes dizzy, stumbles back as Enji presses a kiss to your back.

He hears you mewl out a needy “please” and that hits his limit- breaks him into nothing but tiny little shards.

Natsuo bolts out of the house, panting and gasping and running as fast as he can. He gets in the car and he gets his hand on his cock, ruts into his fist with an angry moan as his mind floods with the image of his sweet daughter being fucked by his father, your grandfather.

He comes and he chokes on a sob, forehead smacking against the steering wheel as he curls up into himself.

How could you do this? Why did it have to be him?

Natsuo grits his teeth and he slams his fist against the dash, shakes as humiliation and envy overwhelms him.

...he should have taken you like he wanted. Maybe then this wouldn’t have happened.

...he’s going to stop this. He’s going to show you who you belong to.

He has to- he can’t lose you to Enji.

Natsuo wipes furious tears from his eyes and he looks dully at his childhood home, feels bile rise in his throat.

His baby girl...his angel...

Natsuo waits in the car quietly- face blank and eyes wet, his heart aching as he counts down the seconds until his daughter is finished being fucked by his father, until he can go inside and take what is his.