#I want to save her from the harsh realities of this world

[worshipper-status]

I just want to be someone great for you...

(Vent in tags)

[natsaffection]

One step at a time. | N.R

Natasha x Fem!Reader

Summary: Natasha and the team help you cope with the loss of your leg.

Warnings: Detailed description of loss/Grief and mental health issues

Word count: 3,9k

A/n: Had something in mind..✨

The Tower was already buzzing with activity. It was rare for everyone to be together, but when they were, the Tower seemed to vibrate with energy. At the center of it all was you, the bright and lively soul who illuminated even the darkest corners of the team.

You had a way about you that drew people in. Your infectious laughter could lift the heaviest spirits, and your smile seemed to spread warmth. Your optimism and unwavering positivity were like a beacon, guiding your teammates through their toughest times. Everyone admired you, but no one more so than Natasha Romanoff.

Natasha was always the stoic warrior, rarely showing her emotions. But you had effortlessly broken down those walls. With your steadfast support and genuine kindness, you became Natasha’s closest confidante and, although she would never say it out loud, the anchor of her heart.

This morning was no exception. You bounced into the common room, your eyes sparkling with excitement. "Good morning, everyone!" you called out, your voice like a melody echoing down the hall.

Tony, tinkering with a new gadget, looked up and grinned. "Well, if it isn’t our sunshine," he teased, causing the rest of the team to laugh.

You made your way to the kitchen, where Steve was pouring himself a cup of coffee. "Morning, Cap," you said cheerfully, reaching for a cup for yourself. "What’s on the agenda today?"

Steve smiled, appreciating your tireless positivity. "Just a meeting in a bit. But first, breakfast. You know the drill."

As you were about to sit down with the others at the table, Natasha came in from her morning training. The moment she saw you, her expression softened. "Hey," she greeted, kissing you on the cheek.

You beamed at her. "Nat! I was just getting some coffee. Want some?" Natasha nodded, a rare smile tugging at her lips. "Thanks, I could use it."

Days in the Tower were often filled with training sessions, meetings, and occasional sparring matches. You had a knack for brightening even the most mundane activities. You organized movie nights, cooked meals for the team, and always found time to lend an ear. Your favorite spot was the rooftop garden, where you often pulled Natasha to relax and enjoy the view.

One evening, as you lay in the garden, you asked Natasha, "Do you ever wonder if we make a difference?" Your eyes reflected the sparkling stars. Natasha was surprised by the question. "Of course we do," she replied firmly. "Every life we save, every fight we win, it all counts."

You smiled, a small, wistful smile. "I know. Sometimes it just feels like there’s so much darkness. It’s nice to have a reminder that there’s still light." In that moment, Natasha realized how much you meant to her. She placed a hand on your shoulder. "You are that light. Never forget that."

Your laughter snapped Natasha out of her thoughts. She watched as you interacted with the team, your eyes full of warmth and kindness. Moments like these filled Natasha’s heart with emotions she had long buried. She felt a protective urge towards you, a desire to shield you from the harsh realities of the world.

"Nat, you’re awfully quiet this morning," Clint, ever the observant Hawkeye, gently teased. "What’s on your mind?" Natasha offered a rare, genuine smile. "Just enjoying the moment," she replied, her gaze meeting yours again, making her heart swell with joy.

The mission seemed straightforward on paper: infiltrate an old HYDRA facility, gather intel, and get out. They had done it a hundred times. But as they moved through the dark, abandoned corridors, an eerie feeling spread.

"Stay alert," Steve's voice crackled through their earpieces. "Something doesn’t feel right." Eager to help, you moved up with Natasha. "I’ve got your back." you said, flashing a confident smile. "Just stay close to me," Natasha responded, her protective instincts kicking in.

They advanced cautiously, each step echoing through the silence. Tony’s scanners were active, searching for hidden threats. Suddenly, a blip on the radar caught his attention. "We’ve got movement," he announced. "Southwest corner, two floors down."

Steve gave the signal to move in. They split into pairs, covering each other's backs as they navigated the labyrinthine building. You and Natasha moved with practiced precision, your trust in each other evident in your fluid movements.

"How many are we dealing with?" you asked, scanning the shadows. "Looks like a small group," Tony replied. "Shouldn't be a big deal."

"Famous last words," Natasha muttered, making you laugh. As they reached the designated area, the building began to tremble. The walls shook, and the ceiling cracked. "It’s a trap!" Tony shouted, but it was too late. The structure collapsed around them.

"Y/N, Watch out!" Natasha called as debris began to fall. They dodged the larger pieces, but in the chaos, you were separated from the group. You called out, your voice filled with fear but still hopeful. "Nat! Tony! Where are you?"

A beam crashed down in front of you, blocking your path. You turned to find another exit, but it was too late. A massive steel beam, loosened by the collapsing structure, fell toward you. You tried to dodge, but it struck your left leg, pinning you to the ground.

Pain shot through your body, intense and unrelenting. You screamed, a sound that echoed through the collapsing building. The team heard your cry and fought through the rubble to reach you.

Natasha found you first. Her heart sank at the sight of you, trapped under the beam, blood pooling around you. "Hey, I’m here," she called, her voice trembling with uncharacteristic emotion.

"I-It hurts so much," you gasped, tears streaming down your face. "I can’t move.."

"It’s going to be okay. We’ll get you out of here. Just stay with me, okay, detka?" Natasha said, her voice calm despite the panic she felt inside.

The rest of the team arrived, and together they managed to lift the beam just enough to pull you free. They rushed you back to the Tower, the urgency of the situation weighing heavily on them.

In the medical wing, the doctors took over immediately, wheeling you into surgery. The team waited outside, the air thick with tension and worry. Natasha paced back and forth, unable to sit still, her mind filled with fear and guilt.

Hours seemed to stretch into eternity. Finally, the doors to the OR opened and Dr. Cho approached the worried group. Natasha stepped forward. "How is she?" she asked, her voice barely steady.

Cho sighed, pulling down her mask. "She’s stable, but the damage to her leg was severe. We did everything we could, but we couldn’t save it. We had to amputate above the knee."

The words hit Natasha like a punch to the gut. She nodded slowly, trying to process the information. "Can I see her?"

"She’s still unconscious," Cho said gently. "But you can be there when she wakes up." Natasha nodded again and followed Cho to your room. She sat by your bed, holding your hand and whispering comforting words. When you finally began to stir, Natasha’s heart pounded in her chest.

Your eyes fluttered open, and you looked around groggily. "Nat?" you murmured, your voice weak. "I’m here, Y/N," Natasha said softly, squeezing your hand. "I’m right here."

You smiled weakly, your eyes beginning to clear. But then you noticed the expression on Natasha’s face, a mix of relief and something else you couldn’t quite place. "What’s wrong? I’m okay, I’m here.." you asked, a hint of fear creeping into your voice.

Natasha struggled to find the words, her throat tight with emotion. Before she could speak, Cho stepped in, her face serious as she chose her words carefully. "Your leg was severely damaged by the beam... Y/N, we did everything we could to save it, but… it wasn’t enough."

"What do you mean?" Your eyes widened, your breath catching. "I’m so sorry. We had to amputate your leg above the knee." Your face went pale, your voice trembling. "My leg… it’s gone?"

Cho nodded, her eyes full of compassion. "Yes. I know it’s incredibly hard to hear. I’m truly sorry."

The room fell into silence. You continued to stare at her, your mind overwhelmed by the news. "W-What..?" you whispered, shaking your head. "No.. I.. I can feel it, that-" throwing off the blanket, your eyes widening in disbelief at the empty space where your leg used to be.

You tried to move it, but it wasn’t there. The realization hit you like a tidal wave. You said nothing, just stared at the empty space, your hands trembling.

Natasha leaned closer, her voice full of empathy. "I’m so sorry, Y/N. We’re here for you. I'm here for you.“

But you were in shock, unable to fully grasp the reality of your situation. Tears streamed down your face as you struggled to cope with your loss. Natasha stayed by your side, holding your hand and offering what comfort she could, knowing this was just the beginning of a long and difficult journey for both of you.

The days in the medical wing were a whirlwind of pain, medication, and the constant hum of machines. You lay in bed, your eyes often vacant as you stared at the sterile white ceiling. Your once bright smile was gone, replaced by a hollow expression that pained everyone who visited.

Natasha was a constant presence by your side. She held your hand, whispered comforting words, and even tried to coax a faint smile from you. But you were distant, your light dimmed by the weight of your loss.

One afternoon, Steve and Tony visited you, bringing a bouquet of colorful flowers. "Hey, sunshine," Tony greeted, his usual confidence tempered by concern. "We brought you something to brighten up this place."

You glanced at the flowers and managed a small nod. "Thank you," you murmured, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Steve sat on the edge of your bed, his eyes full of empathy. "How are you holding up?" You forced a smile, but it didn’t reach your eyes. "I’m okay, Steve. Just... tired."

They all knew you weren’t okay. The vibrant, happy Y/N they all loved was disappearing, and it broke their hearts to see you like this.

As the days turned into weeks, the team visited you regularly. Clint brought your favorite snacks, books to keep your mind occupied. But despite their efforts, you remained distant, a shadow of your former self.

One evening, as Natasha sat by your bed, she gently brushed a strand of hair from your face. "You know, it’s okay to not be okay," she said softly.

Your eyes filled with tears. "I don’t know how to be myself anymore," you admitted, your voice breaking. "Everything feels different. I feel different."

Natasha’s heart ached for you. She leaned in closer, resting her forehead against yours. "We’ll find a new normal, Y/N. Together. You’re still you, and you still mean the world to us."

Finally, the day came when you were discharged from the medical wing. The team gathered to bring you home, their faces a mix of relief and concern. As they helped you into the wheelchair, Natasha knelt beside you. "Ready to go home?" she asked, trying to sound hopeful.

You nodded, but the sadness in your eyes was unmistakable. "Yes. Let’s go."

Back at the Tower, the atmosphere was subdued. You moved through the halls with a quiet distance, no longer organizing movie nights or cooking meals. Most of your time was spent in your room, avoiding the rooftop garden you once loved.

The team watched helplessly as you withdrew further. Your laughter, once a joyful sound that echoed through the Tower, was now a distant memory. You no longer greeted anyone with your usual cheerfulness, and the light in your eyes had gone out.

Natasha was the most affected. She missed the Y/N who pulled her to the garden to watch the sunset, who made her laugh with silly jokes, who had become her rock. She tried to reach you, to break through the wall you had built around yourself, but it was like trying to catch smoke with her hands.

One morning, Cho informed Natasha that it was time to remove your bandages. "It’s common for patients to need emotional support when they see their stump for the first time," she explained gently. "It would be helpful if you could be there for her."

Natasha nodded, understanding the gravity of the moment. She entered your room, finding you standing by the window. "Hey," she said softly, closing the door behind her.

You turned around, surprise flickering across your face. "What are you doing here?"

"I thought I’d sit with you while Cho removes the bandages," Natasha replied, trying to sound casual.

"I don’t need you," you said, your voice rising with frustration. "I can do this on my own."

Natasha shook her head, her expression determined. "I’m staying, Y/N. No arguments."

You glared at her, but Natasha’s resolve didn’t waver. Finally, you sighed in resignation. "Fine. Do what you want."

Cho entered and began the careful process of removing the bandages. You kept your eyes fixed on the ceiling, determined not to look. Natasha held your hand, offering silent comfort.

As the last layer of bandage was removed, you caught a glimpse of your stump out of the corner of your eye. Your breath caught, and you turned your head, unable to avoid it any longer. The sight of your leg..or what was left of it, triggered a wave of nausea and despair.

You tried to hold back your tears, biting your lip until it bled. But the emotional dam broke, and you began to sob uncontrollably. "I-Ican’t do this... I can’t live like.. t-this..."

Natasha pulled you into a tight embrace, her own tears falling silently. "You can, Y/N. And you will. We’ll get through this together, I promise."

You clung to her, your sobs shaking your entire body. Cho, seeing the emotional toll, finished quickly and quietly left the room. The team, waiting just outside, could hear your cries, their own hearts breaking for their friend. They knew they couldn’t fix this for you, but they would be there every step of the way, offering support as best they could.

The days that followed were some of the hardest you had ever faced. You were engulfed by a whirlwind of emotions, grief, anger, and a deep sense of loss. The team continued to give you space, but they were never far away, always ready to offer support.

Natasha stayed close, offering a steady presence that you found both comforting and frustrating. It was a delicate balance, and Natasha navigated it with patience and love.

One morning, you woke up to find Tony standing at your door, a wide grin on his face. "Good morning, sunshine. Mind if I come in?"

You sighed and sat up in bed. "What is it, Tony? If it’s more flowers or breakfast in bed, I might scream." Tony laughed. "No flowers. But I have a surprise for you. Something I’ve been working on."

You raised an eyebrow. "I’m not really in the mood for surprises, Tony."

"Trust me, you’ll want to see this," Tony insisted, stepping aside to reveal a sleek, high-tech case. Curiosity piqued, you watched as Tony opened the case to reveal a prosthetic leg, crafted with meticulous precision and advanced technology. It was sleek and metallic, with intricate designs hinting at its capabilities.

"Is that...?" Your voice trailed off, your eyes wide with disbelief.

"Yes," Tony said, his grin widening. "I built it especially for you. It’s got the latest tech. It’s strong, lightweight, and it’s going to help you get back on your feet, well literally."

You stared at the prosthetic, emotions swirling inside you. "Tony, I don’t know what to say."

"How about we start by trying it on?" Tony suggested gently. "Natasha and I will be with you every step of the way." With a mix of apprehension and skepticism, you nodded. "Okay."

The process of fitting the prosthetic was meticulous. Tony and a team of specialists worked carefully to ensure it was comfortable and secure. Natasha stayed by your side, offering silent comfort.

As they adjusted the straps and made final tweaks, a wave of fear washed over you. What if it didn’t work? What if you could never walk properly again?

"Are you ready to try it out?" Tony asked, his tone encouraging.

You took a deep breath and nodded. With the help of Natasha and Tony, you stood up cautiously, feeling the weight of the prosthetic beneath you. It felt foreign, unfamiliar, but it also felt like a new beginning.

"Take it slow," Natasha advised, holding your hand firmly. You took your first tentative steps. It was awkward and shaky, and you nearly stumbled. Frustration and anger bubbled up inside you. "This is impossible," you muttered, your voice tinged with defeat.

"You’re doing great," Tony reassured you. "Just keep going, one step at a time."

You continued, each step harder than the last. The prosthetic felt unnatural, and your movements were jerky and uneven. After a few laps around the room, you stopped, breathless and frustrated.

"I can’t do this," you said, tears of anger and disappointment streaming down your face. "I can’t walk properly. This is useless!"

Natasha stepped in, her eyes flashing with determination and frustration. She cupped your face in her hands, forcing you to look at her. "Now listen to me, Y/N," Natasha said firmly, her voice both angry and urgent. "I know this is hard. I know it’s tougher than anything you’ve ever faced. But you have to keep going! I can’t stand to see you suffering like this!"

You stared at her, shocked by the intensity in her voice.

Natasha continued, her grip gentle but unyielding. "You keep talking down to yourself. But you need to channel that anger where it belongs. At us. At me! We couldn’t get you out of that building in time. I couldn’t get you out in time, be mad at us, but stop tearing yourself apart."

You felt a surge of emotions, anger, determination, and something else, something stronger. You nodded slowly, your tears falling faster. "Okay, Nat. Okay."

The following days were filled with intense training. Tony and the team set up a rehabilitation room, equipped with everything you needed to regain your strength and mobility. Natasha was there for every session, encouraging you and celebrating every small victory.

The training was grueling. You had to learn how to balance again, how to walk with the prosthetic, and how to cope with the physical and emotional challenges. There were moments of intense frustration and doubt when you wanted to throw the prosthetic across the room.

One afternoon, after a particularly hard session, you sat on the floor, sweat dripping from your forehead. "This is so hard," you said, your voice tinged with exhaustion and defeat.

"I know," Natasha replied, sitting next to you. "But you’re doing amazing. Look how far you’ve come." You looked at the prosthetic, your eyes filled with determination and a glimmer of hope. "I just want to feel normal again."

"You will," Natasha assured you. "Step by step."

As the weeks went by, your progress was slow but steady. You became more comfortable with the prosthetic, moving with increasing confidence and grace. The team watched with pride, their admiration for your strength and resilience growing with each passing day.

One evening, after a successful training session, Tony gathered everyone in the common room. "I think we need to celebrate," he announced, holding up a bottle of champagne.

You laughed, the sound bright and clear. "What are we celebrating?"

"Your incredible progress," Tony replied, popping the cork. "To Y/N, the strongest person I know." The team raised their glasses and toasted to you and the journey ahead. You looked around at your family, your heart filled with gratitude and hope.

But despite your progress, you often doubted your worth, especially in your relationship with Natasha.

One night, as you lay in bed together, you couldn’t shake the feelings of inadequacy that gnawed at you. Natasha lay next to you, reading a book, while you stared at the ceiling, lost in thought.

"Natasha," you began hesitantly, your voice barely more than a whisper. Natasha looked up, concern immediately etched on her face. "What’s wrong?"

You took a deep breath, trying to gather your courage. "Do you still find me... attractive?" Natasha frowned in confusion. "Of course I do. Why would you even ask that?"

You turned away, your eyes filling with tears. "I’m not the same person I was before the accident. What if you don’t want me anymore?"

Natasha set her book aside and moved closer, gently turning you to face her. "Y/N, look at me," she said softly. "You’re still the same person I fell in love with. Your strength, your kindness, your spirit..None of that has changed."

You shook your head, your voice trembling. "But my body has changed. I don’t feel like myself anymore. I’m afraid you see me differently."

Natasha cupped your face in her hands, her eyes filled with unwavering love. "Your body may be different, but that doesn’t change how I feel about you. You’re beautiful, Y/N, in every way that matters. I love you for who you are, not just for your appearance."

Your tears flowed freely, and you clung to Natasha, your fears slowly dissolving in the warmth of her embrace. "I’m sorry for doubting you," you whispered. "It’s just... sometimes it’s hard."

"I understand," Natasha said gently. "But you’re not alone in this. We’ll get through it together, remember?"

Months had passed since your accident, and your hard work in physical therapy had paid off. With the unwavering support of your team, you had regained your strength and confidence. One morning, you woke up with a renewed sense of purpose. You strapped on your prosthetic and joined the team in the kitchen.

"Morning, Y/N!" Tony greeted you with a broad grin. The entire team was gathered, and Steve stepped forward with a small black box.

"We have something for you," Steve said, handing you the box. You opened it to find a sleek, high-tech communication device. "Is this...?"

"Welcome back to the team," Tony announced. "We’ve got a little mission for you, if you’re ready." You felt a surge of emotions. "I’m ready."

The team briefed you on the mission: a simple reconnaissance at an industrial complex. As they flew to the site, Natasha held your hand, offering silent comfort. Upon arrival, they split into pairs, you and Natasha working together.

As you navigated the complex, you felt a mix of excitement and nervousness. You encountered a group of armed men, and your training kicked in. With Natasha by your side, you quickly overwhelmed the threat.

"You did it," Natasha said, pride shining in her eyes. "We did it," you replied, feeling a deep sense of fulfillment.

Back in the Quinjet, the team congratulated you. "Welcome back, Y/N," Steve said, clapping you on the shoulder.

You looked around at your teammates, feeling deep gratitude. "I missed this. Thank you all for believing in me." Tony grinned. "We never doubted you for a second."

As you flew back to the Tower, you felt at peace. You had faced your fears and overcome your challenges, stronger than ever before. With the support of your team and Natasha's love, you knew you were ready for whatever the future held.

[shalomniscient]

ONCE UPON A TIME...

⤷ a series re-imagining famous fairy tales with assorted genshin women !

⤷ featuring:

beauty and the beast [eula lawrence] ➳ on the edges of mondstadt, nestled in the frigid mountains of dragonspine, is a lonely, forgotten castle. word around town is that within the cold stone walls is a monstrous beast, a scion of the cursed lawrence family. you are content to live your days far ignorant of such a rumor, but when your father gets into a terrible accident in the mountains, you have no choice but to take your chances with whatever lurks in the castle to save him.

the little mermaid [raiden ei] ➳ the world above the water has always fascinated you. the tales of rolling hills and towering mountains, vast plains and mystical forests; and of course, the people. the people who sing and dance and run along the shore, carefree and lively. you wish, and you wonder, what it's like to be part of that world. your wish is granted somewhat on a stormy night, when a ship crashes against the rocks and scatters its human occupants to the waves. against what you've been told, you rush to save the one person you can find--a beautiful, purple-haired woman, dressed in fine, ornate clothing. it's a meeting that will change your life, forever.

snow white [arlecchino] ➳ your step-mother wants you dead. you know as much, when she cast you from your own home and into the cold woods, setting a hunstman on your tail. you barely escape with your life. the little cottage you stumble upon as you run, and the seven little fools you find inside become your saving graces. you spend your days there in peace, and even meet a handsome, dual-tone haired prince who passes by the cottage ever so often on her hunts. but peace, as you've learned, is fragile, and your world is upended again when your step-mother discovers that you're alive. and you can't help but wonder--is a happily ever after simply not in your cards?

rapunzel [beidou] ➳ when you were born, your parents gave you to a sea monster. you don't know why, and you were never told why. all you know is that you are this beast's prisoner, forever to be locked away in a tower by the sea. there is no escape for you; the only exit is the window, and the only thing waiting beneath it are jagged rocks and harsh waves. the beast comes and goes, ascending your tower using your hair as a rope. he calls your name in a singing rhyme, and you let down your hair. only one night, it is not the beast whom climbs through your window--but a charming, pretty pirate, who brings the first light of companionship to your life.

cinderella [jean gunnhildr] ➳ life is not easy after your mother's death. your father does his best, yet the woman he brings home to replace her is cruel. but she makes your father happy (or at least, you tell yourself as much) so you keep your head down and do as she and her daughters order you to. it isn't too bad. the attic is your refuge, and the barn mice keep you company. in the dark you gaze through the window at the glittering palace in the distance, and you let yourself dream of a sweeter life. but magic--magic has a way of turning dreams to reality, and there is more magic in your life than you know.

⤷ notes/disclaimers : ➹ this will not be a 1:1 retelling! i will of course do my best to be as close as possible to the source material, but since i will be incorporating genshin lore into this as well, i will be taking several creative liberties. also, some of the source material is... dark, and i'll be changing that because i personally don't enjoy writing dark content of that level. ➹ this is currently not the finalised list! i plan to add maybe two more characters, but i have yet to figure out how to work their corresponding fairy tales. ➹ unfortunately, there won't be a upload schedule! as much as i wish i could write only this for the next few weeks, i have other life things to handle, so i'll only be working on this in my free time. nonetheless, i'll do my best to get them up as soon as i can.

[bonefall]

For the cat who takes out Juniperclaw, maybe if any of Leafstar's kits are still alive besides Harrybrook (or just him idk how you characterize any of the three), perhaps one of them would go with it? Leafstar might not have liked "an eye for an eye" and she'd probably teach them it's wrong to seek revenge, but I do think one of them can be talked into it, in the name of SkyClan and Leafstar. Make it more personal when Juniperclaw is told who they are in relation to the cat he killed, making it click in his head what is about to happen.

Oooo, great idea, I GOTTA do that... hmmm. Much as I wish I could cash in another chip for Firefern, since I adore her name, it's gotta be Harrybrook.

In-canon, his character is consistently harsh and distrusting and he's got it even worse in BB. It could be like his mother is the only thing actually holding him back. If anyone is going to end up being Waspstar's "Cleaner," it absolutely has to be him.

Harrybrook: We had a good thing, you stupid son of a foxheart! We had Leafstar, we had a camp, we had everything we needed and it all ran like woodwork! You could have shut your mouth, hunted, and caught as much prey as you ever needed. It was perfect! But no! You just had to blow it up! You, and your pride and your ego! You just had to be the man! If you’d known your place, we’d all be fine right now!

A little recap of BB!Harrybrook, since it's been a while since I've mentioned him or any of his fragments;

Harrybrook is the son of Leafstar, Echosong, and Billystorm.

SkyClan does not have the Cleric's Vow.

This is because SkyClan was exiled at the beginning of the Ripple Era; before Larkstripe's Strike which resulted in the unofficial vow being codified.

it is actually a positive in their culture if their Cleric previously raised kittens. Echosong probably did have other litters in her long life.

Echosong is also alive to the current arc; Frecklewing joined with The Kin. Fidgetflake is still around, but he's probably still the "junior" Cleric of sorts.

Important point being that Harrybrook has personal stake in SkyClan's unique customs. His only surviving parent is a Cleric.

I wouldn't be surprised if this is what makes him such an effective killer. He has a knowledge of poisons and anatomy.

All cats know where the carotid artery is, they find it all the time when they put the killing bite in the wrong spot. Habr knows where else a single blow can bleed you out.

As a little kitten, he was named after Harry, who helped to save his mother.

What no one knew at the time was that Harry was being courted by an ancient monster. Sol, the God of Autumn, Change, and Tricks, wanted to play a game.

The rules were simple; Sacrifice three kits.

Sol wanted to see how far Harry, once baring the name Cinders, would go in pursuit of the power it could offer him. Sol HATES a boring vessel.

Harry JUMPED at the chance, offering two of his own kits as the last one got away. He just needed one more.

SkyClan almost tempted him into tucking his ambition away. Here, he was safe and accepted for the first time... but his desire for power won out in the end.

Sol offers immortality, the ability to mould reality like clay, the whole world could be Harry's toy.

(WIP SECTION)

In some way, Sol was able to manipulate Billystorm. I'm still working out how severe this manipulation was.

He likely got to Leafstar too. Possibly intentionally driving a wedge between them-- convincing Billystorm that SkyClan was unsafe and he'd raised the kits more than either his mate or his mate's girlfriend. He had a right to keep them safe, even if that meant taking them from everything they'd ever known.

And to Leafstar, he told her Billystorm was plotting against her. That she needed to be as firm with him as she is with the cantankerous Sharpclaw. If she's not, he might take those kittens back to his humans, and who knows what they'd do?

In any case, a fight between them causes Billystorm to leave. I'm not sure if I'm keeping Leafstar exiling him.

(Note: I don't really like how either character acts in the canon story. Or the framing. Or... anything about it really. It's bad Todd.)

In the past, I'd made it so Billy ended up trying to take the kids to his human, and then the human was the one who decided to get rid of the kits. INSTEAD it works a LOT better if Billystorm went back to his humans, and Harry then used this as a lure to get the kittens out of camp.

"Let's go visit your Ba, kittens. I know where he is. Just follow me."

While living in the town, Billystorm meets up with the child of Harry who got away, and learns that they've all been set up.

Billystorm deserves to go run save his kids and punch a God in the face I think.

DAYLIGHT WARRIOR MORE LIKE LIGHTS OUT WARRIOR! KAPOW!!

(Much as I will miss the gutpunch brutality of Billystorm realizing that his human can't be trusted. I'll just use the idea someplace else.)

(WIP SECTION END)

Stormkit was unable to be saved. There was only Firefern and Harrybrook.

Harry has been terrified of water since then. It represents everything awful that's ever happened to him.

He doesn't even like when it rains. Storms always seem to bring terrible things.

Firefern ended up dying on the journey to the Lake. I'm leaning towards changing it to infection, during the time that Echosong is missing (taking Frecklewing's arc).

Her other mother wasn't there to help her, and she died of something preventable. Something Harry knows she could have healed.

Harrybrook hates his name. I think he was too quiet about it, though, to the point where his family wasn't aware of it.

They probably figured it was overwriting Harry's memory. It's Harrybrook's name now, instead. Harry just feels like it's a reminder of being tricked.

I think at one point he should get an honor title, but I'm still working it out. He might just be keeping Harrybrook as a grim reminder.

If it's him who kills Juniperclaw, I know for a fact he'd take Waspstar's orders very seriously; "Please be discreet and professional." It's only mostly personal, you see. More importantly, this is for SkyClan.

Leafstar wouldn't have approved. But she's not here now.

He'd quietly intercept Juniperclaw as he approaches the camp, standing in his way, looking him up and down without a twinge of emotion on his face. Juniperclaw's hackles are raised immediately. He lived with SkyClan before Heartstar reformed ShadowClan-- everyone knows who Harveybrook is.

"I've- I've come to pay my respects," He says proudly, standing tall and noble. Even after that he did, he has the boldness to hold himself as a brave warrior. What he knows he did, and to who he's talking to. Harrybrook shouldn't fault him for not knowing how arrogant he comes across-- but does anyway.

"Yes, we've been expecting you," He flicks his tail and dips his head respectfully, "Right this way."

The trail doesn't lead to camp.

When Juniperclaw begins to realize that they're taking a strange path, he just waves it away as an odd feeling. It's been a while since he's been here, after all. But the tickle doesn't go away. It gets stronger and stronger, until he recognizes the northern border of what used to be ShadowClan's full range.

And that's when he halts, "Where exactly are you taking me?"

"Not any further if you don't want to," Though Harrybrook's eyes are wide like he's about to pounce on prey and his massive body is buckled low, prowling, sizing up the distance between them, his tone is soft. Like he's gently explaining something to a fellow warrior. "This would be far enough."

The ex-deputy swallows on a dry throat, frozen in place. Harrybrook relaxes his stance. Juniperclaw seems to be very good at taking orders, just like he is. He knows exactly what to do to keep this discreet and professional.

"If you'd like, we can finish the long walk. It's a place my mother used to like. It has flowers, butterflies, it's a lovely haven," He relaxes his stance, meeting Juniperclaw's terrified eyes with a calm, dutiful look.

The panic distills into a resolve. Like something clicked in his mind, and he was coming to one of those unspoken conclusions that these Forest Four cats all seem to have figured out between them. "All right. I... I think I know the haven you're talking about. We can have our fight there. There's no need to make a scene."

Harrybrook's ear flicks, but Juniperclaw doesn't see it as he brushes past him. It seems he misunderstood what this is. He thinks this is an invocation of the Right to Challenge. That this is going to be a fair fight between warriors.

It's the last mistake he ever made. But he doesn't feel a thing. Back turned to his killer, he hears the snap before he learns in StarClan that it was the sound of his own neck.

[opal-owl-flight]

Quick lore question, did marie considering the idea of replacing 4 play into the insecurities she has later?

Absolutely.

I wanna preface this by saying one thing: Young 4 was a COMPLETELY different person before she got recruited by Marie. And Marie...responds to her accordingly.

Long read abt Hero2 events below!! Its. A lil messy sorry qisjke these are my notes

Young 4? A bitch.

Everything she ever wanted was given to her. Moved out of the highlands with an ego the size of a planet (and also bc she felt suffocated there), thinking she can make it in the big city.

...she struggled to make it alone. She had moved out bc her family was suffocating her with love, but now theyre not here, so now she feels homesick and underappreciated.

All that is expressed by her harsh, bitchy attitude. Shes gonna be mean bc no one has seen her for who she is. She'll show them!!

She finds her way around like this, and discovers that shes just as good at turf war here and at home. In fact, shes *so* good that she got the status of a rising star!

It aaalll just gets into her head. Shes "proven everyone wrong" now. Shes got the superiority complex and can back it up.

Marie...

...saw this. She was looking for a new agent to help find the missing zapfish. The second 4 heard this from her, she flexed her arms and...

"Look no further, your hero is RIGHT HERE!"

Marie at first adored the spunkiness of this new agent. Uuuntil 4 started thinking that shes better than her.

"Watch out, Agent Four!"

"You watch YOURSELF, grandma! Think Im a damn idiot to not see that coming? WAHA!"

Marie rolled up her sleeves after several stages full of her ignoring orders or sassing her out of nowhere.

Is that how shes gonna be? Fine.

When 4 finally trips and falls, hard, on a particularly difficult level, Marie pulls her to the side to fix her up and give her a lecture that tore her fucking ego to shreds.

She says something so fucking harsh like "That attitude will make SURE that you die sad and alone. I wonder how anyone puts up with you."

4s too hurt by her own failure to say anything back.

The reality of war finally gives her a reality check. Each victory is earned. its her life on the line. And the world.

She regains her spunk after saving the world.

------

Silly 4. She gets the job done but it takes a LOT of pushing in the mid-stages. Its like she got legitimately bored after the initial super easy ones, and thought the entire campaign a joke.

She went back to her turfing life topside between stages. And she takes a WHILE to come back to her missions -- usually late!! And then before she even goes in she just HAS to yak Marie's face off with what she was doing up there.

"Youre late."

"You shouldve SEEN ME, Marie!! I was carrying that Rainmaker round! I was-"

"Pray tell, Agent Four. How will you keep participating in turf with the Zapfish gone?"

"Whaat? Cmon. Nothing seems to be changing! Theres still power through the city!"

"The backup supply wont last forever, you know."

"Yeah yeah. Okay. Im here now. Wheres the next kettle?"

This attitude is from her high school days, clearly. She breezes by everything so fast that she can afford to do things last minute. It affects even this.

That, alongside her talking smack back to Marie, is what makes her snap at 4. Its what makes 4 stick to the mission fully starting late area 4 and area 5. (This is also around the time 4s life was threatened. God help me in those stupid platforming stages)

Post Hero2, 4 more or less does what 3 does. Shes the "replacement" til 3 comes back. (That cant be good for her confidence.)

At the same time, she has to deal with Callie and Marie talking out what the fuck Callie did with Octaria. "THEY SQUIDNAPPED GRAMPS!!!" and all. Why help them??? They get into squabbles where 4 was the unfortunate witness to. And peacemaker. It does NOT help that Callie for a while kept putting the glasses back on!!!

4 wishes so bad she had help of any sort. She feels 3 might be able to do something but what does she know?? Shes never met em!! She just imagines what the missing agent would do in that situation.

Callie...was also the person she got close to. Shes fun (unlike the stuck up Marie), shes empathic, she opened 4s eyes to the Octarian plight. It made her acceptance of 8 later much smoother.

Im not saying shes not close to Marie either, I bet they healed their relationship around this year too. Marie's sorry she tore 4s ego the way she did (even if deserved...). Marie's much more supportive of what 4s doing topside. Shes expressing her pride in the agent she found much more openly. (She brags abt her to Callie at times.)

The three of them heal together in that time. 4 sees them as older sisters Im p sure. Theyre both giving her tips for turfing and -- Marie even helps her with homework, HAH

And...while I say that 4 and Marie are in better terms, there are still days where Marie blows up on her. Lesser extent than before, but shes *worried* for her agent! (Its a similar plight 3 has.) In those times, its Callie who has her back. ("Hey! Its not like shes not trying!!" Callie understands how it is, and she also knows Marie best -- shes the one who makes 4 understand where Marie is coming from.)

[lonniemachin]

Donia @doniatanani reached out to me to help share her fundraiser. She is urgently trying to evacuate herself and her displaced family from Gaza City. She is close to her goal at €56,969 raised out of her €70,000 goal! Please donate and share, and if you can’t donate, please still share!

From Donia’s GFM:

Dear All

I hope this message finds you safe and well, as safety is all I wish for every human in the whole world, This is Donia Tanani , a 25 years old , married and I have my beautiful daughter Salma , a war survivor until now, writing to you from the most unsafe place in the world, Gaza city, where the ongoing violence and oppression has turned every day into a battle for survival.

We have known hardship all too well for many years, enduring the relentless challenges of living in a conflict zone .Yet ,the current situation has plunged us into even deeper despair , facing homelessness , hunger and illness. So my husband and I are reaching out for a chance to escape and build a new life out of here.

We are running out of time and I really want to survive , I thought alot before starting to create a link on GoFundMe but I just want to make a try, we live under rockets , bombardment and airstrikes ,So I don’t want to be a number . I want to live in peace with my family without any of this , every thing here is not suitable for human life , everything is literally deadly.

For me , before the war, I had a life that I slept with my eyes full of gratitude to god for it. I graduated as a translator and started working but there is no place left on gaza that was not destroyed . Also my husband lost his work and his place was completely destroyed , nothing remained even our house was bombed and become rubble.

In the blink of an eye , our lives were upended, our homes lost, our dreams shattered . Displaced more than 6 times in search of safety , we have faced the harsh reality that there seems to be no sanctuary from the ongoing violence and instability.

I’ve launched a GoFundMe campaign with a desperate plea for help . Our sole mission is to evacuate my family from the violence and devastation engulfing Gaza . Every contribution , regardless of size, brings us closer to ensuring their safety and well being.

With each passing day, the urgency of our situation intensifies, your support is not just a lifeline ,its a beacon of hope amidst the darkness . Together we can make a difference , bringing my family to safety and reigniting our dreams for a better future.

Your help means rescuing three souls, each one filled with hope, love, and ambition. Your help means that we're not just numbers, and that their lives matter and deserve to go on despite everything.

You are now reading what I wrote , being the knight who will contribute to saving me and my family from the death machine devouring everything in its path.

With profound gratitude

Donia Tanani

[demontobee]

Nightingales and Romeo and Juliet in Good Omens S2E6

I’ve been thinking about the many symbolisms of the nightingale since the end of S1, but especially since the whole “That’s the point. No nightingales” conversation between Crowley and Aziraphale at the end of S2. Nightingales feature in a lot of literary texts symbolizing a whole bunch of things, but I found this particularly interesting:  

In Romeo and Juliet (you know, the play where two star-crossed lovers from rivalling families try to overcome all boundaries in the name of love), there is a scene (Act 3, Scene 5) where Romeo and Juliet have a conversation (or a little row/misunderstanding) about nightingales and larks. It is the night/morning after their secret marriage (!) and Romeo has to leave before the morning comes. Otherwise he will be in great danger as he might get caught by Juliet’s relatives. Juliet, who does not want him to leave yet, argues that the bird that they hear singing outside the window is a nightingale. Since nightingales sing by night, she hopes that this will convince Romeo that it is still night and thus make him stay a bit longer. Romeo, on the other hand, is convinced that it is a lark, a bird of dawn, that is singing, which would mean that he has to leave soon. When Romeo suddenly states that he does not care if he will be killed or not and that he wants to stay with Juliet, Juliet caves in and explains that the bird they hear is actually a lark and that Romeo has to flee.

So, a few things to point out here:

It is the night after their “secret marriage”

The nightingale is a night bird whose song indicates darkness and a world asleep, which protects forbidden love from being found out

Juliet does not want to face the harsh reality of the day approaching, which is why she tries to convince Romeo that they are hearing a nightingale while, in fact, a lark is singing, indicating danger

When her lover unexpectedly declares that he wants to stay with her, even at the risk of losing his own life, she tells the truth  in an attempt to usher him out to save his life

Okay, back to Good Omens:

It is the morning after The Dance™ (you know, the one Aziraphale organized only to be able to make a move on Crowley and dance with him; the one during which Crowley tried to open Aziraphale’s eyes to the dangerous situation they were in while Aziraphale refused to give up on his little fantasy-bubble of love and romance). Aziraphale tries to convince Crowley to go back to heaven with him. We don’t know exactly what went on in the conversation between him and the Metatron, but there was probably some threat involved, which means Aziraphale thinks that they will both be safe(r) in heaven. In a way, he is the Juliet in the situation, trying to make his Romeo stay/come with him by convincing him that the nightingale is still singing – that they can still be safe that way. Like the night before, he does not (or at least does not seem to) realize the danger they are in and will be in and that heaven will never let them be “an us”. He does not want to part with Crowley. Crowley, on the other hand, knows exactly that going to heaven is not an option for him and he understands that they are in danger. His statement, “that’s the point. No nightingales,” means that the protection of the metaphorical night, the indifference of heaven and hell concerning their situationship, is over, and that they can either flee together or have to part. Aziraphale, judging by his expression, seems to understand what Crowley is implying here. This seems to be where his parallels with Juliet end, since he does not agree with Crowley in the end. However, there is a version of events that would make his actions similar to Juliet’s in the end: Assuming that Aziraphale knows that one of the two options to keep Crowley safe(r) is out since he knows that Crowley will never agree to going back to heaven, his only other option is to ensure Crowley leaves without him (and without the impression that he needs to save Aziraphale and their relationship). He does this by driving him out if the bookshop.

In any case, the nightingale seems to symbolize the temporary safety of their forbidden love, and Crowley’s statement at the end signals the end of this precious period, and that they must part (for now).

[teawithnosugar]

Your Love

Ellie x Reader

CW: angst/comfort at the end, slight gore, trauma, mentions of abuse (I think), Ellie is kind of mean at first, Joel and Jesse ain’t dead here WORDS: 2,6k SYNOPSIS: You and Ellie may fight sometimes, but she’s still the one that understands you most in the world. SONG: True Blue - boygenius

"I remember who I am when I’m with you"

AN: ....it's been over a month...I AM SO SORRY. I'm on 3 hours of sleep so I wasn't able to edit this properly. This plot was waaaay better in my head, thinking abt making this a mini series. The reader’s past isn’t that detailed in this one but I think you’re able to get the idea djdbsjs 😭

When you first came to Jackson, you were 15, quiet, body tense, and covered from head to two in crimson liquid. Now you were 22, still quiet, still tense, and drenched in rain water. You and Ellie had just gotten back from patrol. You accidentally left behind a bag of loot while trying to save Ellie from a group of raiders. As soon as the door to your small cabin closed, she was on you, shouting at you for your mistake, voice as loud as the harsh rain outside. Jackson made you happy, talkative, at peace, but in moments like this it was easy to become that 15 year old again, scared and just taking the blows.

“There’s a flu going around Y/N! People need the medicine you just lost!”

Ellie was furious, pacing the cabin. It was like you were at that facility again, adults shouting at kids for not hitting their targets or being able to beat up other kids during training. You felt so small.

In reality, Ellie was angry, not at you, but at her own sense of burden. She still wasn’t over the incident at the hospital, and the vaccine that was never made because of her and now the medicine the town wouldn’t get because of her mistake. The guilt was overflowing, and coming out as steam in her ears and harsh words from her mouth. “I just…I just wanted to protect you,” you whispered. She froze, expression softening before it hardened. Before she could snap again, there was a knock on the door of your small cabin. You both looked at each other, slightly confused but more to tell each other that this would have to continue later. “We ran into a group of 15, but while we were getting away we saw more of them, all camping in Teton.” You don’t remember how you got here, in a meeting with Tommy, Joel, Jessie, Ellie, and Maria. Not that you were listening anyways. Everyone’s voices sounded fuzzy and echoey, like a vacuum of some sorts. You stared at the cracked wood of Maria’s dinner table. You couldn’t pay attention to the conversation, all you could think of was how empty your stomach felt but you didn’t have the appetite to eat anything.

“…I’m sorry to bring all of you here. Usually in situations like this I send Joel and Y/N…but Joel is getting old and Y/N…doesn’t seem to be in the state to do this alone.”

Maria's concern for your well-being echoes faintly, but it's Ellie’s hand on your knee from under the table that anchors you. She could tell your mind was slipping away again, and she had calmed down greatly since a while ago and wanted to comfort you. She recognized the way you gave a small nod at Maria’s words, eyes staring down at your lap when you felt everyone’s eyes on you. 

You couldn’t help but feel like a burden. Killing and defending was all you were raised to do, and you felt like a disappointment for failing at your only notable job in the community.

You silently played with Ellie’s hand as the meeting went on. You wanted to help with the plan, to tell them some of what they came up with was a bit too dangerous and that it would’ve been easier if they just sent you, but you stayed quiet. If you were being honest, you didn’t really care at the moment, a numbness in your core eating away at your insides. You felt so empty.

In these moments, you found yourself drowning in a familiar sea of emotions. There was little else to do but immerse yourself in the touch of Ellie's skin.It wasn't a difficult choice to make – you could either get lost in your mind's maze or savor the sweetness of Ellie's hand, and surely, the latter was a far more delightful path to take.

As the meeting went on, Ellie glanced at you every few minutes. She hadn’t seen you like this in a long time. “You’re not a fucking killing machine” she had told you so many times before. “Yeah but I’m the best at playing the part” you’d always respond. 

You wanted to help the community that had welcomed you so gracefully years ago. You lacked the culinary skills to prepare hearty meals, the green thumb to tend to blossoming seeds, and the craftsmanship to build sturdy shelters, so you helped the only way you knew how, by protecting them from outsiders, the thing you used to be long ago. Ellie understood your need to be useful all too well, too well to stop you despite how much you hated what you were doing. It’s the reason you chose flight over fight during patrol; you hated killing people.

“You leave in 30 minutes, pack up and meet in front of the gates.” Maria said, and the screeching of chairs being moved hit your ears, bringing you back to the current moment and flinching slightly. Ellie guided you out of the house and silently walked with you back to you to the small cabin. She kept a gentle hand secured around your waist, guilt from your previous argument eating away at her.

“I’m sorr-“

“It’s fine Els” you replied softly, pulling away slowly once you reached your cabin.

It was easy to gather your stuff, your belongings lay where you left them, forgotten in the heat of your argument. Gathering your things became a breeze once you decided to regain composure. However, as you turned around, you found Ellie already sorted and waiting, her eyes fixed on you like a gentle lighthouse beaming with concern.

She drew near and held you by your hips, rubbing and squeezing the flesh under your jeans comfortingly as she leaned her forehead against yours. She looked into your eyes softly. “I can ask Maria to let you sit this one ou-” “I’m fine Els” you repeated, still speaking softly, pressing your lips softly against yours. She smiled against your lips. She knew you weren’t fine, the tender touch of your lips on hers stirred a dance of butterflies in her mind, spinning and swirling like dandelion seeds caught in a playful breeze, just as you planned.

You held hands the whole walk to the gates and the ride to the planned spot. Your arm wrapped around Ellie’s torso as your entwined hands rested on her stomach. You sat behind her on Shimmer. Jesse led the group on his horse as he held the map and you all stayed close together on your horses. You traveled in a line, Jesse, then you and Ellie, then Joel and Tommy. You held the flashlight in your free hand to help light up the path, the sun had set moments ago. The plan was stupid, go in the dark so we could see their lights. It was something that could easily backfire but you didn’t speak up during the meeting so you’d have to deal with the consequences now.

Once you reached the spot, you set up a small base, preparing your weapons and tying down the horses. The area was just a little away from the camp of the people you saw a while ago. Once everyone found their place and the world hushed, Ellie stood beside you while you shed your jacket and tied your shoes with a firm, double knot. The plan was that you would go ahead, scout the area better and come back with useful information. Your unique talent for moving with an almost supernatural silence made you the natural pick for this task.

Her gaze lingered on you before she finally spoke “baby, are you sure?” You stood up straight and gave her a reassuring smile “I’m sure.” You gave her a peck in the cheek and waved to the others before disappearing into the trees, pistol, knife, and binoculars in hand, you left all your bigger weapons with the others to have more mobility.

As you approached the outskirts of the town where the camp lay, confusion washed over you like a cloud passing over the sun. The place was deserted, like a ghost town with its fires extinguished, and not a soul in sight, as if everyone had vanished into thin air. The echoes of gunfire hit you like a punch to the gut, and instinct took over, propelling your body into a sprint as if it had a mind of its own. With your gun and knife firmly grasped in each hand, you darted through the chaos at lightning speed. As you drew nearer, a grim scene unfolded before your eyes like a haunting painting, with lifeless bodies scattered like fallen leaves on a desolate path. …1..2..3…..8..9….

6 more were still alive. You ran around the area, staying out of the light, but your heart shattered into pieces as the sounds of Tommy and Ellie's desperate calls for Joel reached your ears. There, you saw the scene unfolding like a tragic play: Joel lying wounded under the raider's boot, his blood pooling into the grass under him. Ellie struggled to support Jesse who seemed to have gotten injured too. It was just Tommy and Ellie left, able to point their guns at the enemies who did the same. The raiders' shouts faded into the background, drowned out by the persistent ringing in your ears, now back with a vengeance. Ellie's gaze met yours, and with a hesitant nod, she urged you to do what you excelled at. She despised herself for it, knowing she was pushing you to embrace something you detested. But Joel and Jesse needed help, her and Tommy had used up all they had on the other 9 men, and they were basically cornered.

You moved expertly and quickly, mind blank aside from the need to protect your friends and your girlfriend. You shot and sliced through the group while dodging their attacks with ease. Your focus narrowed solely on the task at hand, blocking out everything else. Your friends' voices were lost, and all you saw were the raw, visceral images of flesh and blood as you killed and killed and killed and killed and killed. You didn’t even remember how you got there, straddling the chest of the man you knew was stepping on Joel awhile ago but you couldn’t even recognize his face anymore. Like a relentless storm, you repeatedly stabbed, the knife becoming an extension of your hand, painting the air crimson with every fierce strike. The man's features were now lost amidst the sea of red flesh and the occasional glimpses of his shattered skull, like shards of a broken mirror. 

Your hands, once steady and sure, now throbbed with pain as they clutched onto the knife, coated in a macabre tapestry of bloodstains. The pistol you once held was discarded on the ground nearby, forgotten in the haze of battle. Bruises were likely forming under the stains, but such sensations were distant, eclipsed by the singular focus in your mind, as if you were a machine set on a single purpose. You had slipped into that zone, the mindset of that child trained to kill, where the world narrowed to a singular purpose, leaving everything else behind.

That was until you felt a familiar pair of hands gently pull you off the messy mound of lifeless red flesh, holding you close to their very much alive one. Once the familiar smell of rain water and pinewood hit your nose, you forgot all about the faint smell of blood, like it was just a distant memory. Tilting your head up, you met her worried gaze, her green eyes tightly knit with concern, etching a profound impact on your heart.

“Kid, are you okay?” Tommy had kneeled down in front of you two after quickly packing up everyone’s stuff and putting them on the horses. The worry on his face made the tears that had already unconsciously welled up in your eyes spill over. He didn’t hate you, he was worried, and so was Ellie. She hasn’t seen you like this…in years, and it was breaking her heart because it felt like all the progress you went through just…vanished. But that wasn’t true, you’d be fine. You’d always be fine with her there.

You nodded shakily towards the older man who had become a father figure to you in your time in Jackson. Your eyes flickered towards Jesse and Joel, both injured and on the horses, suffering silently as they waited for us to start moving. ‘Get your shit together’ you screamed internally.

You sadly pulled away from Ellie and stood up. The two needed to get medical attention soon. The ride back was quiet but fast. Ellie and Tommy rode with Jesse and Joel so they wouldn’t have to move much so you were riding on your own horse. Your face was blank but god the voices in your head were loud as you mindlessly followed the two other horses.

‘You should’ve done this alone’

‘One of the men you killed had a wedding band, could one of the other bodies be their loved one?’

‘You could’ve helped plan it out better during the meeting’

‘Another one of the men screamed so loud you were able to hear it through the ringing in your ears, as if the stars cared he was dying. Did you not kill him quickly enough?’

‘None of this would’ve happened if you fucking said something earlier’

The brunette looked back at you every once in a while to make sure you were still there. She was obviously overwhelmed, both her father figure and her best friend were bleeding out and her girlfriend was visibly close to breaking down after killing 6 people in fucking seconds. She kept it together though, she had to.

Once you all arrived back in town and the lives of her loved ones were assured, she brought you home. Ellie tossed all your stuff and hers onto the peeling leather couch, not caring about them at all because you were the priority right now.

Ellie pulled you with her onto the bed, cradling you in her arms. The blood on your body seeped into the sheets, leaving dark stains in its wake. In your dazed state, you managed to utter a faint concern, "I don't want to get the bed dirty." While you were consumed with guilt over the bed, Ellie's heart ached that your focus was on something seemingly trivial amidst the chaos you had faced. Her scent, her touch, she was like some magical drug that quiets the voices in your head. Who needed therapy or talk when she was just there?  She stayed quiet and held you tighter, hiding your hands in hers so you wouldn’t see the crimson that stained on them. After a few moments she pressed a kiss to the back of your head and it’s like you couldn’t even remember what you were arguing about earlier in the day, and how you were supposed to continue talking about it. It was better this way, neither of you won something that probably wasn’t even worth keeping score of. You felt her arms slip under your back and your leg as she started carrying you towards the bathroom, you didn’t fight her hold, you leaned into it actually, snuggling your face into her chest.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah? Then we can get you that pasta and garlic bread from the Diner you like so much.”

“Mhm.”

[azrielslightintheshadows]

Princess

Azriel x f!Reader.

One of the series I’m currently working on. Enjoy!

Summary; Reader is Mor’s new friend that she found in the winter court while she was away for business. Y/n has been raised as a princess since her parents wanted to wed her to a noble fae in order to climb the social ranks. When her parents are brutally murdered y/n is left alone without a clue about the harsh reality or the brutality of the world. Mor finds her and takes her back to Velaris afraid of what might happen to her if she was left to live on her own. Will y/n survive the hate she will receive from certain members of the inner circle -including her mate- regarding the way she grew up?

Warnings; angst, mentions of abuse, trauma and death.

Masterlist.

Princess Masterlist.

Chapter 4

Now you know. The shadows whispered in your ear and disappeared.

You didn’t know why they showed you this, it felt like invading Azriel’s privacy. Your heart broke as the image of the boy resurfaced, so young and thin. You shook your head and walked to the bathroom to wash yourself, the house had already changed the sheets.

After fixing yourself as much as you could you walked to the dining room and found Cassian, Nesta and Azriel there, they all looked at you when you entered, and Cassian smiled.

“Good morning” he said and turned back to his food.

“Good morning” you smiled and took a seat next to Azriel. You didn’t know why but you felt the need to be close to him, you couldn’t remember what happened last night, the only memory you had was walking into a bar and then Azriel placing you on the bed and leaving. Maybe it was the nightmare that made you feel this way. Azriel was surprised too yet he didn’t say anything nor moved away.

A plate of food appeared in front of you and you started eating.

“So y/n would you like to join us for training?” Nesta asked and you almost gasped, you didn’t expect her to be nice to you.

“I don’t want to be a burden, I have never fought in my life… I will just hold you back” you replied, your voice soft. Nesta snorted and shook her head.

“Nonsense, I hadn’t fought a day in my life when I started training too. At least come and watch and then you can make your decision” she shrugged.

“Okay” you nodded.

You glanced at Azriel who had an approving look on his face and instantly you felt proud of yourself.

After breakfast you went into your room and Nesta followed you. “Listen… I don’t really like you, we’ve all been through a lot and your appearance here is mocking us. You will never be able to understand the sacrifices we made and our trauma but as a female its my duty to help you become strong, confident and independent. Take the opportunity, you won’t regret it.”

You didn’t know how to feel about her statement, you admired her. Most females on your circle tried to destroy the others, it was one of the most successful ways to eliminate the threat and get married first. Nesta could see the gears in your head turning and that was enough for her, so she continued. “Lets find some proper clothes for training.”

She opened your closet and snorted when she saw the pink dress you wore the first day. “You should burn that thing, it’s hideous” she made a gagging noise and continued her search. You frowned and your mind went back to the day you bought it. That dress saved your life and even though it was ugly, it grounded you, it is the only thing that reminds you the past.

“I think these are okay” she said and threw a pair of leggings and a top on your bed. “Get dressed and come find us at the roof” and with that she left.

You picked the clothes and tried them on. The top reached your belly button and you felt exposed, your whole silhouette was on display, and you blushed as you saw yourself. Come on, everyone here wears this type of clothes. You can do this. You told yourself and with a deep shaky breath you left the room, hurrying off to the roof.

Cassian, Nesta, Azriel and two females were already there. The females had formed a line and Cassian stood in front of them, demonstrating some moves and then watching them repeat them, correcting them when needed. Azriel was behind the females correcting their stance and sometimes kicking their legs, making them lose balance.

“You should always be aware of your surroundings. Get up and correct your stance. Now.” He barked and moved to the next one.

Everything looked scary and painful, making you shiver. You gathered all your courage and walked outside, taking a seat on the bench in front of them.

“Hello y/n” Cassian smiled and moved to the side so you could see better. You waved at him, and your eyes fell on Azriel. He stood frozen behind the line, his eyes scanning your body. He licked his bottom lip and turned his attention to the females.

Your face burned and you made a mental note to dress like that more often. Then you frowned. He hates you and you should hate him too for the way he is treating you. Stop this. You reprimanded yourself and focused on the females.

They were moving with such grace, you felt like you were watching a choreography, their braids flowing around with every move they made, their muscles flexing their faces turning cold and then soft with a smile as Cassian shouted praises. You felt hypnotized and wondered if you could ever look this elegant with sweat running down your body. You thought about the females you used to admire, all living inside their pink bubble, only caring about their looks and lifestyle. The most successful female of your village had locked her sister in a cell when one lord visited their small cottage, so she didn’t have to compete. She managed to wed him but at a great cost. Her younger sister was afraid of the dark, when she threw her into the cell, she went mad and started banging her body on the wall, she cracked her skull and died. The older sister didn’t even cry and she pushed the funeral a few weeks later so she could prepare her wedding. Her sister’s body rotted in that cell, and she didn’t even care.

You glanced at the females here, they looked elegant and strong and successful. They didn’t care about males, they only cared about themselves. The looks they sent you filled with hope and encouragement in addition to what Nesta said earlier made your heart swell. They didn’t see each other as competition. No. They cared about other females, they wanted to help. You could fit here. These were the females you should admire, the females you could have as your role models and the thought made you smile, determination filling your body and making your blood boil. You got up and hurried off to your room, you opened the closet and picked the pink dress. You walked back outside and stared at Nesta. She stared back a smirk appearing on her face as she hurried off and came back outside with a candle in her hand. She offered it to you, and you threw the dress on the ground, lighting it up on fire and watching it burn. Nesta looked at you with pride and she clapped.

“Welcome to the real world princess” she smiled.

You glanced around and noticed the other females, they were clapping too, Cassian let out a low whistle and Azriel grinned. Your heart melted and you let out a giggle, your eyes filling with tears as you whispered, “Thank you”.

You weren’t thanking them for their applause, you were thanking them for supporting you, for opening your eyes and showing you that its okay to be strong and independent. And as you stood on that roof, proud of yourself and ready to take the wheel of your life, your gaze fell onto Azriel, and the bond snapped.

Your smile turned into a frown and your whole body shuddered. No, no, no. I just decided to take control of my life, I can’t be bound to a male. You thought and stared at him wide-eyed. Azriel noticed your expression and furrowed his eyebrows.

“Are you okay?” Nesta asked.

“Yes, just lost in the emotion.” You smiled.

“Okay I think we had enough for today. Tomorrow we will start our training at the same time, I’m guessing you will be joining us y/n” Cassian boomed. You nodded and smiled.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You were in your room, trying to do the moves you saw them doing earlier, you wanted to be prepared for training tomorrow. You were interrupted by a knock on your door, you could feel Azriel through the bond, so you stayed silent hoping he would go away.

“I know you’re in there” he shouted. You sat on your bed without replying. One of his shadows slithered down the door and shoot up, turning the lock and opening the door. You cursed under your breath and got up.

Azriel strolled into the room with a soft expression.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing, everything is fine” you replied. “Fine my ass” he snarled “you felt it snap”.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” you whispered taking a step back. The cold expression returned on his face as he growled;

“Fine, its better this way. The Cauldron was wrong, I can’t have a weak female in my life. I showed you the city like Rhysand asked now don’t fucking come near me again unless its during training” the way his tone changed when he said training made shivers run down your spine. His voice was filled with painful promises and as he left your room you couldn’t help but notice the sadistic grin that appeared on his face.

Your heart skipped a beat and fear mixed with excitement filled your senses, the sting of his words long forgotten as you thought about training with him. You wouldn't let him treat you like that again, if you could manage that then you could do everything. I'm going to blow your mind shadowsinger. You thought and smirked.

I hope you enjoy this part, from now on the series will focus on female power so if you are here just for romance you shouldn't waste your time on this.

@glitterypirateduck , @zara-aliza08 , @mika-no-sekai-blog , @purpleshoelaces , @act1839 , @fasoaurore , @pinksmellslikelove , @bunnyredgirl , @lectoracronica , @tuggboatfishin , @sunnysideup000 , @blessthepizzaman , @universevsd , @raisinggray , @ssmay123 , @kalulakunundrum , @justasillylittlegoofyguy , @tsunami-of-tears , @just-a-social-casualty-1 , @thelov3lybookworm

[billybob598]

Look What I've Got (Sophia Smith x Reader)

Heyyyyy. I did not want to put this gif in because it makes me sad, but I thought it made sense with the story. Also, this is a F1 reader, there was a little vote between f1 reader or swewnt reader and f1 won 8-6 so sorry to anyone wanting the swewnt reader but this is a democracy. I might do a similar one later with a swewnt reader for those people. Anyways, it's a shit title and a shit ending so have fun reading! Remember any feedback good or bad is welcomed! Enjoy!

Word Count: 2.8k (My longest fic ever wooooo!!!)

You were a proud girlfriend right now. Here you were watching your girlfriend of almost two years, Sophia Smith,  playing in her first-ever World Cup. While you missed the group stage games due to the F1 Grand Prix in Hungary and Belgium, you were finally able to come to Australia. Your girlfriend didn’t know that you were here yet nor that you were attending the USA’s Round of 16 match against Sweden. Throughout the warm-ups, Sophia seems laser-focused, so much so that she doesn’t see you sitting in the stands wearing her jersey. Of course, it is instead her best friend Naomi Girma who spots you first. When she points you out you don’t think you’ve ever seen your girlfriend's head turn so fast. Her eyes land on you and she sprints towards you with a blinding smile.

“Oh, my God! Baby, I’ve missed you so much!” Sophia squeals out as she hugs you tightly. 

You chuckle, “I’ve missed you too, love.” When you pull away from the hug, Sophia immediately connects your lips. You reach back and slip your arms around her neck, trying to deepen the kiss. Gagging sounds come from beside you. Sophia groans and tries to chase your lips when you take your lips off of hers, suddenly aware of all the cameras, family members, and teammates surrounding you. You give her a weak smile and slightly push her back to the field. 

“Nooo, I wanna stay with you,” she pouts. You find her pouting adorable, but as much as you want her to stay with you, you know that she has to go continue to warm up. 

“Hi Y/N! I’m your favourite player right?” Naomi yells from across the field.

You wink at her with a cheeky smile, “Oh, of course. Girma on top baby.” Sophia gives her best friend a harsh glare before leaning in to give you one last hug.

“I’m your favourite though, right baby?” She asks quietly. You give her a subtle kiss on her ear while mumbling an “Always” to her. 

As the game gets underway, you watch nervously at every movement the US makes. Each time Musovic makes a fantastic save you can’t help the little groan of frustration that leaves your mouth. You can tell Sophia is starting to get frustrated with herself, whenever she feels she misses an opportunity she puts her head in her hands. The skin around your nails has been chewn. When extra time ends still in a 0-0 draw, your nerves increase tenfold. As Andi steps up to take the first penalty kick, Mollie, Sophia’s mom, reaches down and grabs your hand, squeezing tightly. When Sophia steps up to take a potentially game-winning penalty, you and her mom hold your breath. You can only watch in despair as her kick goes over the bar, her hands going straight to her head as the reality that she missed sinks in.

When the VAR call comes through and Lina Hurtig’s penalty is called good, your entire body deflates. The entirety of the US team breaks down, including your girlfriend. All you want to do is hold her and comfort her when you see her crying. It’s not her fault, you know that, but she’s already got it in her head that she’s to blame for everything. After a couple of minutes of tears and hugs among the team, the players start to make their way to their families and friends. You let Sophia sob into her parents' shoulders for a while. Finally, she pulls away and looks at you. You try to give her a smile and reach for her. She looks away and slowly starts to back away from you. The confusion you feel is represented on your face. 

“I’m sorry Y/N I just need some space right now,” she softly speaks. You nod, albeit confused but trying your best to be understanding.  After a long time in the locker room and taking their showers, the players start to emerge. Sophia shows up, her eyes bloodshot and puffy. She heads straight for her family once again. You hang back unsure of what she wants you to do. Her family leaves the two of you alone when her eyes meet yours. Opening your mouth to say something, you are caught off guard when she speaks first.

“Just don’t, okay?” Once again confusion writes itself all over you.

“Don’t what?” You ask.

“Don’t say that I did such a good job, that it was just unlucky I missed and that I’m still young, or some shit like that,” she says, a bit of anger seeping into her voice. You nod slowly, carefully choosing your next words.

“Okay, I won’t say that. I do think you did a good job, though. But, if you don’t think you did then whatever. All I know is that you made me crazy proud,” you state, trying to cheer her up. You don’t know what happened, but it seemed that sentence had set off Sophia. 

“Well I don’t care if you're proud of me, that doesn’t change the fact that we lost and it was all my fault! If you think that it wasn’t my fault, you’re astronomically wrong,” her voice rising with each word said, “I don’t care if you're proud of me. I don’t even know why you’re here, I don’t want you to be.” Her words sting. You take a step back, trying not to show just how hurt you are. 

“Do you really mean that?” You ask quietly.

“Yes. Yes, I do,” Sophia says harshly. Of course, she didn’t mean it. She has no idea why she’s saying these things right now, her heart cracking at how dejected you look. 

“Oh, okay. That’s fine, I think I’m gonna head back to my hotel I guess,” you whisper, looking down at the ground to ensure that she doesn’t see the tears pooling in your eyes. Quickly, you turn around and make your way to the parking lot. Your eyes stinging and your vision blurring, but you’ll be damned if Sophia gets to see you cry. The second you disappear out of her sight, Sophia feels terrible. Why on Earth would she say that? “I don’t care if you're proud of me,” who the fuck even says that? You flew halfway across the world to spend some time with her during your summer break which was only a few weeks, and this is how she treated you? For the entire bus ride back to the hotel, everyone is silent. Some people are crying, but Sophia is kicking herself over how she behaved towards you. She sends you a couple of texts, which she can see you read but don’t respond to. Then, when the team gets back to the hotel, she tries to call you a few times. Each attempt just gets your voicemail. Naomi, who was aware of the situation, just told her friend to rest and try again tomorrow. Sophia relents and comes to the conclusion that you won’t respond tonight and that she just needs to let you sleep and calm down a bit. 

The next day, as soon as she wakes up Sophia tries to get a hold of you. She calls you again and again. While eating breakfast she’s on her phone, praying that you’ll reply to one of the many texts she’s sent you. Her friends are slightly concerned at how dejected the forward looks after each passing minute with no word from you. Finally, Ashley Sanchez suggests that Sophia goes to your hotel to try and iron things out. Their flight wasn’t until the next day so she had the time. After thinking about the idea for a bit, Sophia decides to just go for it. She does know where you are staying and figures it’s only a fifteen-minute walk over. Sophia plays with her rings the entire time, her nerves only increasing as she gets closer to the hotel. Finding your room easily, she stands outside of it for a few minutes, trying to plan out exactly what she’ll say. Eventually, she knocks and holds her breath. When you open the door, Sophia’s heart breaks at the sight. Your eyes were red and you looked tired. You had heavy bags under your eyes and your hair looks dishevelled. You were definitely caught off guard by Sophia just showing up at your door. 

“Hey,” Sophia speaks softly.

“Hey, what do you want?” Your words have a slight bite to them. Sophia winces at your tone, but she knows it’s well deserved. 

“Um, I just wanted to apologize, you know, for last night,” she says avoiding eye contact with you. You sigh heavily.

“Yeah, okay,” your girlfriend looks up at you confused by your words.

“Okay?” 

“Okay. What you said was totally out of line and right now I don’t particularly feel like talking to you,” your voice is flat and she can sense a hint of anger in it. 

“Oh…” Sophia trails off, now feeling stupid for coming over. Obviously you wouldn’t want to talk to her. “Right, sorry. But can’t we just try and talk about it?”

“What’s there to talk about? I understand you were sad and disappointed in yourself, Soph, but you don’t get to just lash out at someone who didn’t actually need to be there. I chose to be there, for you, and then you say shit like, ‘I don’t want you to be here’ That’s not fair to me and you know it,” you breathe out, happy to finally get that off your chest. 

“I know, and I’m sorry. I’ll do whatever I have to do to show you that I’m sorry. Please just forgive me and I’ll make it up to you, please Y/N,” she begs, her eyes full of tears at this point. Now it’s your turn to avoid eye contact, looking anywhere but her eyes. You hate seeing her cry, more than anything. While your heart aches to just forgive her, you know that you can’t just let it go that easily. She’s said sorry, but that alone is not enough. 

“Soph, I’m sorry. I think I need some space.”

“What? No, no, no, please Y/N. I’ll do anything,” she continues to plead with you. 

“I’m not breaking up with you, okay? Don’t worry. I just need some time. What you said wasn’t cool and I just want to calm down a bit,” you say trying to keep the emotions out of your voice. You feel terrible at how heartbroken Sophia looks. “Sophia?”

“Yeah, yeah. Um, that’s okay. As long as you're not breaking up with me,” she mumbles, wiping at the tears running down her cheeks.

“No, God no. It’s just a break,” you say quickly, wanting to make sure she understood. She smiles slightly at how panicked you looked. With that, she moves to walk away, but not before giving you a hug and a kiss on your cheek. You blush slightly, watching sadly as she walks away. 

For the next few weeks, you and Sophia did not talk. You went back to your apartment in Monaco and continued to train and prepare for the Dutch Grand Prix. Sophia went back to Portland and after taking a week off recovering from the World Cup, rejoined training with the Thorns. Everyone could see how distracted Sophia looked at training and outside of it. They knew that you guys were on a break and that you were not talking to each other. While she was still playing well, her friends noticed that she was a lot quieter and that she didn’t seem to want to spend too much time with other people more than she had to. Your own team could also see how sad and distant you looked. So, a few days before you were due to fly to the Netherlands, your teammate and friend, Lando Norris, suggested you ask her if she wanted to come to the race.

A/N: I know that the race weekend is scheduled from the 25-27th and that Portland has a game on the 27th, but let’s just pretend that there is no game lol.

Agreeing with the idea, you send Sophia a text asking if she wanted to fly out to the Netherlands and watch the race. Sophia, of course, says yes and immediately starts to pack her bags. You send her the tickets for the weekend and the plane. 

As Sophia walks into the paddock, she’s nervous but excited. There was someone from the McLaren team showing her to the garage, and while she had come to a few Grand Prix’s before the car had been terrible then. Since the last time she came, the team had seen a ginormous amount of improvement. Now, you were competing for podiums and top 5 finishes instead of trying to not finish in the bottom 5. She was shown to your driver room and told that you were in a meeting, but you’d be done soon. After waiting for about ten minutes the door opens and you walk in, with your race suit hanging around your waist and the black fireproofs leaving little to the imagination. You stop your movements when you see Sophia sitting there.

“Hey, thanks for coming I know it was pretty last second,” you say sincerely.

“Yeah, it’s no problem. Thanks for inviting me,” she responds. She notices you playing with your hands nervously. Deciding that you need to stop, she stands up and reaches out, grabbing your hands and encouraging you to play with the rings on her hands instead. You smile softly, finding it sweet that she always remembers you like to play with her rings. For a few moments, there was silence. Then you break it with your words,

“How have you been?” Sophia sighs, thinking back to the last couple of weeks.

“I’ve been…okay,” you give her a look, “What?”

“The bags under your eyes say differently.” The US player looks down, embarrassed. 

“Okay, so maybe I haven’t been that great.”

“Mhm, well I guarantee you’ve been better than I have,” you murmur. Sophia gives you a questioning look. “I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I can’t focus, I did terrible in the simulator training. I think some space was good for us, but now I think I’m feeling better.” She smiles at you, raising her eyebrows, encouraging you to continue “Do you wanna get back together?” Sophia smirks,

“I thought we didn’t break up? We were just on a break,” she challenges. Your eyes widen at your mistake,

“Err, well, shit.” She laughs at the expression on your face. “Well, whatever we were on, do you want to stop it now?”

“Yes please,” she requests. You chuckle lightly, before wrapping your arms around her neck. She smirks and rests her hands on your hips then leans in slowly. Your lips meet and start to move against each other. One of her hands moves across your abdomen, your abs tensing slightly under your fireproofs. She runs her tongue across your lips asking for access which you grant. Your tongues fight for dominance as she pushes you against the wall, deepening the kiss. After a couple more seconds, you pull away from each other.

“So, no more break right?” You ask teasingly. She fake ponders the question until you hit her shoulder lightly. She laughs,

“Yeah, yeah. No more break, babe” You grin and connect your lips once again.

For the rest of the weekend, Sophia is by your side. She loves hanging out with the mechanics and engineers. She also really likes Lando, who’s in a good mood for most of the weekend because the car is performing really well. Your girlfriend watches from the garage in excitement as you get your first-ever podium in F1 at Zandvoort. The Internet goes mad when you point and blow her a kiss from the podium, something which she returns. The team starts the post-race celebrations inside the garage while you are finishing up some media and debriefs. When you come running in everybody cheers and there are a lot of hugs and high-fives given out. You go straight to Sophia, holding your 2nd place trophy proudly.

“Babe! Babe! Look what I’ve got! It’s so shiny!” You shout happily. She laughs at the giddy expression on your face.

“Yeah I see it, love. It’s pretty cool,” she says while pulling you into a tight hug, “I’m so proud of you.” The smile that you give her melts her heart. For the rest of the night, you two stay tight together and drink the rest of the champagne in the bottle given to the podium finishers. A couple of weeks ago you thought your relationship was over, but now here you are with your girlfriend proudly beside you for one of your lifelong dreams. It doesn’t get much better than that.

[freelancearsonist]

all that we see or seem

➔ Dieter Bravo x AFAB!Reader

➔ 5.7k words

➔ You moved to Hollywood in hopes of chasing your dreams; you get a lot more than you bargained for from your new boss, Dieter Bravo.

➔ Rated MA // dark fic, reader is afab (female anatomy, no pronouns used) and generally able-bodied, age gap (unspecified, reader is younger than dieter), vampire!dieter, blood/both consensual and non-consensual blood drinking, knife use, slight self-harm, gore of the mouth variety, pet names, takes place in 1983 bc i’m a sucker for changing settings

➔ this was requested from this prompt list by the very lovely @sp00kymulderr!! happy birthday darling, sorry this took so long but i hope it's worth the wait <3 thank you so much to @missredherring for this AMAZING header graphic ily 🖤

Los Angeles is a far cry from the little town you grew up in. It’s a seemingly endless maze, with more possibilities than you ever could’ve dreamed. It’s a little daunting, really. You step off your plane with your suitcase in hand, and you feel like the world is in the palms of your hands.

The harsh reality comes crashing in without warning.

LA is expensive, especially on your own. As the money you’d saved up to get you started dwindles much quicker than expected, your dreams only get further and further out of reach. Life always finds a way to fuck you over, and the city of angels does it quicker than anywhere else. The glitzy neon nightclubs and the glamor of Hollywood swiftly become an omen of doom rather than a beacon of hope. You’re in over your head, but it’s too late to back out now.

Auditions get put on the backburner. You work yourself to the bone as a server in a dumpy little diner, but it’s still barely enough to cover your basic expenses.

You wake up, you go to work, you come home, you go to sleep. The cycle repeats itself so quickly that your days all merge together into one, long, neverending nightmare.

The light at the end of the tunnel appears shortly before the first anniversary of your move. You’re scanning through the paper during your meal break when you see a help wanted ad. It’s normally the type of thing you would ignore, but a few things about it draw you in. The part that really catches your eye is the large, bold letters that proclaim “work closely with one of the biggest names in hollywood!” It seems too good to be true, and certainly something you’re not qualified for. But it could be a start–a way to get your foot through the door of the industry that brought you out here in the first place. Really, what’s the harm in trying?

You go to the library, type up your resume, and mail it in to the address listed in the ad. Realistically, you know that there must be hundreds of other applicants and you probably won’t get so much as a rejection letter back; but the needling little ‘what if’ in the back of your mind gives you a boost of hope that you’ve lived without for an achingly long time.

You get better than a letter–a broad, handsome man shows up at the diner late one night asking for you three days after you drop your resume into the local mail slot at the post office. Janine, the shaggy-haired waitress you work with almost every shift and have sort of become friends with, nudges you excitedly while you’re handing a ticket back to the kitchen.

“Honey, do you know who that is?” She nods her head over her shoulder towards a table in the corner of her section and you try to look over as nonchalantly as possible.

Of course you know who that is. His face is everywhere in this stupid town–magazine covers, billboards, movie theaters. Even with sunglasses obscuring the dark brown eyes that have made thousands swoon, you recognize Dieter Bravo. He’s bigger than Hasselhoff and Swayze combined.

“He’s asking for you,” Janine whispers. “By name. You know him?”

“Not yet,” you answer truthfully. You know without a doubt that he’s here because of your resume and that your entire world is about to change.

You’ve seen him on the big screen before and now you can definitively say that it doesn’t do him justice. He’s more handsome than any man has a right to be. He’s wearing a black hoodie and black trousers, an ensemble that stands out in the brightness of 1983 but yet perfectly complements the tanned tone of his skin. His shoulders could fill a doorway and his smile might actually melt you into a puddle. You can’t help but notice–with a hint of trepidation–that his canines are the sharpest you’ve ever seen, although that thought is quickly pushed from your mind when he greets you by name.

“Your resume is impressive.”

“No it’s not,” you respond with a little laugh before you can stop yourself, then you have to refrain from banging your head into the wall. What a great start to an interview.

But he laughs, and you can’t help feeling you’ve done something right. You’d do a hell of a lot worse just to hear that gorgeously deep, hearty chuckle again.

“Okay, I’ll rephrase. You said all the right things. You’ve got exactly what I’m looking for as an assistant.”

You’re waiting for the other shoe to drop, because this is much too good to be true.

“You’re not from LA,” he states factually. “What brought you here?”

You consider lying–coming up with some story that’s less pathetic than the truth. He’s appreciated your honesty thus far, though, and you don’t want to break a streak. “I wanted to act, but… it’s hard to get started when you don’t have any connections. So I’ve just been kind of… getting by.”

He nods and gives you a look over–assessing, you think. “We all have to start somewhere. But this isn’t an easy job.”

There’s something unreadable in his voice, but you choose to ignore it because you want nothing more than a chance to impress him. It’s not about ‘making it’ anymore; it’s about proving to Dieter Bravo that you’re worth taking a chance on.

“Neither is this,” you reply with a vague wave at the diner around you. “If I’m not covered in fryer grease at the end of the day, it’s a good job to me.”

He chuckles again and it washes over you like fresh water after years of drought. You want more of him–more of his charm, more of his warmth.

“When can you start?”

You ask for two weeks to leave your diner gig on good terms, and he’s gracious enough to accommodate you. As the days tick past, the anticipation ramps up and time seems to move slower. You’ve never been so excited for a new job. Normally, your gut twists with anticipation and your mind swirls with every little minute detail that could go wrong–but not now. No, now you’re just excited. The possibilities of Hollywood finally seem to be within your reach again, and it all starts with this job.

You learn a lot about Dieter within five minutes of starting on your first day. For one, he’s incredibly personable. He greets you himself and vows to show you the ropes. There’s no third party to teach you everything you need to know, it’s just him. Just the two of you. You appreciate that immensely, because you’ll be serving him directly as his assistant. There’s no better person to learn from when it comes to his desires and routines than the man himself.

Two, he wears many different masks. It’s a little spooky, the way his demeanor changes depending on who he’s dealing with. He can be the sweetest, most charming man you’ve ever spoken to, then turn to a producer and be a complete hardass all in the name of getting things done. He knows exactly what persona he needs to wear for each person he interacts with–it’s all very calculated. You suppose all actors have to be capable of that; the mark of a good thespian is being instantly able to pretend you’re someone you’re not.

Still, it’s a little chilling. If you didn’t see it in some form or another with every person you meet on set, you’d be a little concerned. Dieter just makes it look like adaptation–fitting into his surroundings as a means of staying afloat. He’s been in this industry for a long time, he knows what works; and, subsequently, what doesn’t.

As far as the job goes, it’s a nice change of pace from what you’ve become accustomed to. You spend nights on set with him, fetching his coffee order or running little errands while he’s busy shooting. The hours aren’t unreasonable, and it pays double what the diner did. Now that you’re not struggling to get by financially, you have the free time you need to start pursuing your dreams again.

You have only Dieter to answer to, which is a definite learning curve. Directors, producers, and even other actors chase after your favors, but Dieter tells them unequivocally to fuck off. You’re his–it’s a heady feeling each time he  reasserts it. It makes for easy work when you’re not being pulled in thirty different directions simultaneously. He asks for what he needs when he’s around and he gives you a list of tasks to complete when he’s not. He’s a little eccentric–he tells you he can only work after dark because his eyes are sensitive–but it’s nice, falling into a routine after so long of working unconventional hours at a job where no two days are the same.

Still, as days turn into weeks by his side, you wonder exactly what version of Dieter he’s presenting to you. Which face is the most authentic? You want to believe he’s himself with you, but you’re not quite naive enough to convince yourself of that. The thing that bothers you the most is that you want him to feel comfortable enough to drop the facades around you. You want to get to know the real Dieter Bravo, underneath all the masks. But you also swore to yourself, when you accepted this job, that you would be nothing but professional–and wanting to get to know him so intimately is definitely a step beyond just being his employee.

To his credit, he’s strictly professional–even if you wish he wasn’t at times. There’s a lot of rumors and gossip about him, about his hedonism and the life he supposedly leads at night, but you don’t see that facet of him. With you, he’s friendly, kind, and respectful. He’s the perfect gentleman–and that’s how you know that you’re not getting a full glimpse of the real him. There’s too much contradiction between the rumors and the Dieter that you interact with. 

No matter how straight-laced you try to be, you can’t help wondering what it’ll take to get a look at the real Dieter Bravo.

You think he starts to peek through when Dieter asks if you would be willing to work longer hours and be more of a personal assistant than a production assistant. You know him inside and out, he tells you, and it would be a pain in the ass to teach a whole new person how to deal with his errands. He even offers you a sizable raise when you pretend to be contemplating it, like you weren’t bursting at the seams to say yes before he even finished asking. 

The sad–maybe even pathetic–truth of the matter is that you’re falling for him. Every facet of his charm, from his darkly passionate eyes to his easy humor, have you completely bewitched and ready to ignore the way your hair stands on end each time his gaze meets yours. You’ll take any small fraction of him that you can get.

He eases you into your additional duties, at least; that much can be said in his favor. He starts you out with small tasks, like ordering his groceries and picking up his dry cleaning. Dieter’s so kind and patient as he explains how he likes everything done–he’s particular, but not unreasonable. He even gives you a grand tour of his home so you can see exactly where and how he likes everything done–it’s like finally getting that real glimpse of him that you’ve been hoping for.

His Sherman Oaks mansion looks like something straight out of a Bram Stoker novel on the outside, yet the inside is a testament to the warm side of his personality that you’re more familiar with. It’s decorated in shades of orange and red, with patterns that are a little out of date but still manage to feel intentional. It gives the impression of someone who was more comfortable and sure of himself in the 70’s, or at least someone who hasn’t quite adjusted to the new trends that came with the turn of the decade. The walls are covered with art–most of it signed with his familiar “DB” in the bottom right hand corner. It’s neat, but not so neat that it feels staged. It fits the Dieter Bravo that you know perfectly, and it even starts to feel like home to you when you start spending more time there with him.

There’s never anyone else around when you’re there. For someone who has a reputation for throwing the liveliest parties in all of Hollywood, he doesn’t actually do a lot of partying. Not when you’re around, at least. It’s almost like he’s trying to hide that aspect of himself from you. If he has to host, he sends you home early or lets you know in advance that you’re getting a paid night off. You’re almost disappointed–parties have never really been your thing, sure, but you feel like you need to experience at least one of his.

Plus, people are starting to talk. You hear it on set first; his co-stars whispering about how he’s gone soft, how he’s gotten boring. Even the tabloids are starting to wonder if they’ve seen the last infamous Dieter Bravo party, which were once highly coveted and exclusive events. The few times he’s hosted lately have been small, quiet affairs–definitely not the big, star-studded shebangs that he’s gained a reputation for.

A rumor even starts circulating that he’s finally decided to settle down with a nice girl, which makes your stomach twist with a little green monster that shouldn’t be there. He’s your employer, you reason. That’s all. No matter how friendly he is, no matter how much he flirts with you, no matter how much he compliments your perfect cup of coffee, that’s all he is. Your boss. And yet, despite your constant self-assertion, your brain just can’t seem to accept it. You know you shouldn’t want anything more than that, and yet you just can’t seem to stop yourself from hoping.

“What’s going on with you?”

You’re in the midst of trying to sort through the files in his upstairs home office so you can find out when his insurance needs to be renewed when you hear the voice, loud and clear due to the open floor plan downstairs. Sound travels like crazy up the double-wide staircase with Dieter’s office door right at the top. You couldn’t shut it out even if you wanted to–and you don’t. God help you, you’re a little nosy and a little curious.

“Nothing.” That’s Dieter’s voice, but you don’t recognize the other.

“Bullshit. You’re not yourself.” It’s a deep, rich tone that you’ve never heard before and it immediately has your interest hooked. Dieter doesn’t get many visitors, much less such purposeful ones. Most people like to schmooze him, but evidently not this unidentified man.

“I’m trying to be different,” Dieter explains half-heartedly. “It’s time I cleaned up a bit.”

“No. Cleaning up your act is nothing more than a good way to get yourself caught. Things happen in the party climate, that’s how you fit in. Things don’t just happen to nice rich actors.”

Caught? Caught doing what, exactly? You creep closer to the open door on light feet, curiosity peaked.

Dieter sighs, and you can hear the exhaustion in his voice. “I’m tired.”

“So what are you going to do? Just give up? Waste away after… how long?”

“Maybe I should,” Dieter retorts–there’s grit in his tone now, maybe even bitterness. “Maybe I never should’ve taken the deal in the first place. You don’t see how fucked up this all is?”

“So, what? You’ve gotten everything you could’ve possibly wanted, and now you’re tired of playing the game? Pathetic.” There’s a sneer in the tone of this unidentified speaker and you don’t like it. You want to jump to Dieter’s defense, but something tells you this is a conversation that you shouldn’t be eavesdropping on.

“Whatever, man,” Dieter scoffs dismissively.

There’s noise downstairs now–a slight thud and what sounds like Dieter grunting as if the wind has been knocked out of him. 

“What changed?”

“Fuck off,” Dieter spits.

“What. Changed?”

“You weren’t fucking honest with me.”

“Bullshit,” the stranger growls back. “You knew exactly what you were getting into.”

“No, you said everything I wanted, that was the deal. Remember?” It’s quiet for a long moment, and you wonder if Dieter’s pacing. He does that, when he starts to get stressed. “I’m still alone, though.”

“That’s your own fault,” the stranger replies–voice a little softer now. “I didn’t say I would hand you your dreams on a silver platter. You make your own destiny. Surely it hasn’t been so long that you’ve forgotten that little qualifier.”

“I can’t bring someone else into this shit and you know it,” Dieter replies. The venom is gone from his voice now–he just sounds done. Exhausted and spent.

“You can, but you won’t.” There’s a moment of silence, then a heavy sigh. “Start acting like yourself again before you raise too much suspicion.”

“Fine,” Dieter sighs heavily. 

There’s a few long moments of silence, and then you hear the heavy solid oak front door shut. Presumably the guest has gone, and while you’re eager to sneak down and see if you can catch a glimpse of who it might’ve been, it’s far too risky with Dieter down there. Something tells you that he should never find out about the way you just eavesdropped on that conversation. You don’t know who he was talking to, or what kind of deal they were discussing–you just know that it’s serious, and definitely above your paygrade.

“Did you find that paperwork?”

You didn’t hear Dieter come upstairs–his sudden question from right behind you makes you jump and whirl around to look at him. You fight to keep your calm as you catch your breath; the last thing you want to do is clue him in that you overheard his conversation with his unknown guest.

“Yeah, I’ve got it right here,” you answer after a thick gulp.

“You’re a doll,” he proclaims with a wide smile. How easily he picks up the face he wears with you after a conversation that clearly upset him. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” you hum with a smile. “This entire room is a nightmare. It���s a miracle you ever find anything. You need to get, like… some filing cabinets. At the very least.”

“I’ll, uhh… get right on that,” he says in a way that makes you sure he definitely won’t get right on it.

Despite the nerves still thrumming through your veins, you laugh. “I’ll take care of it.”

“You’re a doll,” he repeats with his trademark grin. “Oh! Hey, uhh… you have tomorrow off. Paid, obviously.”

“Why?” You ask before you can think better of it. 

He seems surprised–you don’t normally ask questions, especially about paid vacation days. “Work stuff I gotta take care of. No big deal.”

“Okay,” you answer with a slight frown. “Sure I can’t help?”

He actually does seem to be contemplating it for a moment–his eyes scan over your body, and it’s like he’s considering you more than the actual offer. “No, honey, I’ll be okay.”

“Okay.” You take a short breath, then head towards the door–this was the last task on your list for the night. “Anything else you need before I head out?”

He thinks for a moment, then shakes his head as he follows you down the stairs. “No. Thanks, sweetheart.”

You feel heat fluttering underneath your skin at the pet name–he uses them often and they never fail to make your heart pick up pace. It’s like he can tell, because his eyes linger on your lips for a moment before trailing down to the pulse point on the left side of your neck. You wonder for a second if he can actually see it beating, but you quickly push that ridiculous thought away.

“You’re sure there’s nothing I can do for you tomorrow?”

His eyes are still trained on your neck like he’s completely zoned out or something. You watch as his tongue slowly glides over his bottom lip, trance-like; it makes your breath hitch in your throat.

“Yeah,” he whispers after a long moment–he’s standing so close now, you didn’t even notice him closing in. “I’ll call you if anything comes up.”

“Okay.” You want nothing more than to grab him and pull him in, to kiss him like your life depends upon it. He sounded so upset and every bone in your body is screaming to comfort him. The way he’s looking at you right now, you don’t think he’d mind at all. 

Instead you take a deep breath, grab your bag from the bench next to the door, and bid him goodnight.

Dieter doesn’t seem to realize that you’re always working, whether you’re on the clock or not. Even on ‘off’ days, you get loads of calls for scheduling requests and other tasks. Your saving grace is your trusty day planner—it holds both of your schedules, all neatly color-coded for maximum efficiency.

The worst thing you could’ve done on a weekend leading up to awards season is leave it in Dieter’s home office—and yet, as you frantically dig through your tote bag and your desk, that seems to be exactly what you’ve done.

You know Dieter’s got whatever event he’s hosting at home, but you can’t keep taking calls and scribbling notes on napkins without your schedule in front of you. The last thing you want to do is overbook him at a time where every single interview counts.

With a heavy sigh, you dial Dieter’s home number. It rings for what seems like eternity, and just as you’re about to hang up an unfamiliar voice answers.

“Hello?”

With a sigh of relief, you ask, “Hi, is Dieter there?”

“He’s busy.” The voice is high and sweet, yet her tone says she couldn’t be more irritated.

“Okay… umm, it’s kind of important.”

The stranger sighs dramatically. “I can take a message.”

“I just… I left something there, and I need to come get it as soon as possible. But I don’t want to interrupt anything.”

This time when she speaks, her tone is considerably more friendly. “Oh! Yeah, come on over. The more the merrier!”

You can’t help your intrigue, although you really don’t want to intrude without Dieter’s say-so. “Are you sure? I could always come tomorrow, I guess.”

“No no, come! It’s a party, everyone’s welcome!” Then the line goes dead without any further discussion.

You consider redialing in the hopes of speaking and clearing your visit with Dieter, but you doubt you’ll actually get through to him–and really, what harm would a quick visit do? You know exactly where you left it, on the desk in his office. It’ll be five minutes tops, a quick in and out. He might never even know that you’d been there.

You shake off the curious sense of foreboding that overtakes your mind as you grab your keys and lock your apartment door behind you.

It’s a twenty minute ride to Dieter’s house–a lot of time to spend thinking. At the forefront of your mind is that peculiar conversation you overheard last night; you’re not entirely sure why, really. Whoever that man was sounded almost as if he was in some kind of position of power over Dieter, and you don’t have even an educated guess at who that could possibly be. Dieter’s his own boss and he doesn’t take bullying–you’ve never heard someone get away with bossing him around like that before. He’s constantly in some weird form of pissing match with the directors and producers of whatever film he’s working on; he’s never seemed to be good at taking orders, even when he’s supposed to. You’ve heard many a rant about how much he values the ‘freedom of expression’. It all serves to make the mysterious visitor more confusing. Who does Dieter have to answer to?

The cab pulls up in front of his gated home before you’re able to find a plausible answer. You instruct the driver to keep the meter running since you’ll only be a minute before you step out into the crisp late-January air.

The grounds are a lot quieter than you expect them to be as the guard on duty opens the gate and closes it behind you. One thing Dieter’s famous for is noise–his parties are always reported as loud and exciting affairs akin to the fraternities in his favorite movie Animal House. There's no noise at all today, though, and it makes you curious. Is it really a party? Or was the stranger who answered the phone maybe his only guest? If the latter is the case, why would she want you to join in?

There’s a pale man in a cheap-looking suit waiting just inside the door, a tray of filled wine glasses in his gloved hands. “Take one,” he instructs, his eyes distant like he’s looking through you rather than at you.

“Oh, no thank you, I just need to–”

“Take one,” he repeats. “Master’s orders.”

Master? Of course Dieter would be into that. 

The wine is a deep red, probably that expensive vintage shit that he’s always raving about. You prefer the grocery store stuff yourself, not just because it’s all you can afford. A drink never hurts, though, and you could certainly use something to take the edge off–because that tingling sense of foreboding has only gotten stronger since your arrival.

You take a glass and swirl its currant-colored liquid around. It seems more viscous than any wine you’ve had before–probably a mark of its age, but that’s just guesswork on your part. You take a small sip, then nearly gag. It’s like drinking a pile of melted pennies. You swallow it down with a grimace anyway since you don’t want to make a scene of spitting it out in front of the server. It leaves a metallic taste in your mouth that you’re eager to wash out–thankfully, the kitchen is on your route to the stairs. You quickly deposit the glass on a table once you’re out of the server’s eyesight, then head down the hall in a desperate search for water.

Once you’re out of the foyer, there are people everywhere. Very subdued people, at that–draped over furniture like throw blankets, some even laying on the floor. You consider checking one’s pulse until he twitches and lets out a muffled groan. Clearly high on something, you’re just not sure what. You nearly trip over one person and they actually hiss at you like some kind of feral cat. Your skin starts to crawl with every step you take. Even more important than your discomfort, though, is finding Dieter. What if he’s like this, too? Do you need to call someone?

You notice a dull ache starting in your gums as you make it to the kitchen–thankfully you’re familiar with his home, and you have a glass of water in your hands within no time. It seems that no matter how much you drink, though, that coppery-bloody taste never leaves your mouth. What the hell was that stuff?

There’s a short-haired blonde woman propped up against the wall underneath the mounted phone; she reaches out a lazy hand in some sort of greeting. She looks vaguely familiar, like someone you might’ve seen on the set of one of Dieter’s films.

“You made it!” She says with a lazy smile. She must be the woman you spoke to earlier, although you’re not sure how she can identify you.

“Yeah. Where’s Dieter?” The longer you’re here, the more worried you become. Something isn’t right, and your skin is prickling with apprehension.

“Upstairs,” she murmurs, then her eyes flutter shut and she slumps a little further down. She’s visibly breathing, at least. 

For a moment, you consider picking up the phone and ringing the police. Would that cause more harm than good? Dieter must be aware of what’s going on here–you know you should talk to him before you do anything.

Your mission to find your planner momentarily forgotten, you make your way through the living room towards the stairs.

You check the office at the top first–there’s a few bodies zonked out on the couch, but none of them are Dieter. With trepidation in your very soul, you make your way down the hall. Each room is more of the same–people in varying states of unrest, no sign of the man you’re looking for. Most of them have red-stained lips and you eye more than one smashed glass along your journey. Your own mouth is starting to get alarmingly sore, but you ignore it in favor of finding Dieter.

Each step you take drives your worries deeper into your skull. What if something’s happened to him? What if he’s knocked out like all of his guests, or hurt, or something worse?

This is the first time you’ve breached the bubble of his bedroom. None of your work has ever involved this room, and while you’re a naturally nosey type of person, there’s something deeply personal and sacred about the space someone sleeps in. 

Ignoring the steady throbbing in your gums, you knock once before pushing open the door.

Dieter’s alone in his room, sprawled out like a starfish in a sea of rumpled sheets at the center of his massive bed. Something akin to a groan of horror escapes your throat as you see the state he’s in. He’s paler than a corpse and drenched in sweat, chest barely rising and falling with breath.

For a moment, you’re frozen in place. Your entire body breaks out in a cold sweat as you notice the knife in his right hand and the deep gash in the crook of his left arm, right where an IV would normally be set. You can smell the blood draining from him, you can even taste it in the air–or maybe that’s just the lingering taste of whatever you drank downstairs.

Your stomach churns violently with the sudden realization of what you’ve done, of what you’ve drank.

“Dieter!” You manage to choke out while your brain tries to remember how to send the signals required for your body to fucking move. 

He lifts his head shakily, brown eyes widening after a long moment of trying to recognize the face he’s looking at. “No no no,” he whispers hoarsely, “you’re not supposed t-to be here. You’re.. y-you’re supposed to be a-at home.”

A sharp, shattering pain in your top gum snaps your brain back into action. In a flash you’re crawling across a seemingly endless desert of mattress and it feels like you’ll never reach him. Everything is moving so slowly–each movement seems to take a hundred times the effort it should.

You spit out a mouthful of blood as the pain heightens, barely registering the two upper canines that go with it.

“What the fuck have you done?” You sob, uselessly pawing at his slashed left arm. It’s a precise cut straight across the artery–your hands are sticky and soaked with red the moment you touch him. Pressure, your brain screams at you. Put pressure on the wound.

“A real artist must suffer,” he mumbles weakly–then, even quieter, “I didn’t want to be alone anymore.”

“You’re dying.” Your voice doesn’t sound like your own anymore. It’s higher, breathier. 

“You drank it, d-didn’t you?” He asks, ignoring your statement. His distant eyes are trained on the sharp fangs that have pushed your canines out. “Fuck. Fuck! You were n-never supposed to…”

“Shut up, shut up,” you plead. Every shaky breath seems to cost him years. “How do I fix this? How do I fix you?”

“Thirsty,” he mumbles. There’s water on the sideboard, your brain reminds you. You don’t even remember bringing the glass with you, much less setting it down. Everything is so fuzzy. Your arm doesn’t move nearly as fast as it should when you reach for the glass, and Dieter’s hand weakly comes up to stop you.

“Not water,” he croaks. “Need… need…”

He can’t seem to form the words required to tell you what he needs. He doesn’t have to, though. You know.

“You’re not dying on me, Bravo.” You take the knife from his slack right hand before he can stop you and grit your sore teeth together as you slash it across your palm.

“N-no, don’t…” But he doesn’t resist as you hold your bleeding palm to his mouth. His empty eyes flash back to life with the first taste, and then he takes your hand in his own and drinks greedily. You watch with nothing short of disbelief as the cut on his arm seals itself right before your eyes.

“You were supposed to stay away from this,” he murmurs as his tongue sweeps across your palm. “Why the fuck are you here, baby?”

You don’t even remember anymore. Everything is hazy, everything hurts. It’s a chore just to keep your eyes open.

“Damn it,” he growls–pushing your hand away from his blood-smeared mouth seems to take all his willpower. “I never wanted this for you.”

“It’s okay,” you murmur as you slump down against his sheets. They’re so soft and light, and you want to cocoon yourself in them for the rest of time. “It’s just a dream.”

“Why’d you have to come save me? Huh?” His voice sounds so far away that you’re not even sure he’s really speaking. 

“I love you.” It’s okay to say that, because he’ll never actually find out. It’s just a dream, after all; you’ll wake up in the morning confused but totally okay.

“You were never supposed to,” his voice echoes from some plain of existence far, far away. “Damn it honey, stay awake just a minute longer.”

You try, but your eyes are so heavy. He sighs heavily, as if he knows it’s useless.

“Promise you’ll still love me when you wake up,” he pleads through the tunnel that separates you.

Nodding saps the last of your strength, so you let your eyes flutter closed. “Okay.”

You feel his lips against yours and his coppery kiss nearly brings you back from the verge of sleep. In the end, though, your throbbing head wins. Sleep takes hold quickly despite your feeble resistance. 

How strange it is to fall asleep in a dream.

➔ beta: @schnarfer and @futuraa-free thank you my lovelies <3

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[bobbyseyesmile]

Attitude | Part 3

Summary: Y/N has to think about what she wants: a rather safe life with Shane but she‘ll lose her sanity and might explore parts of her own mind she must sacrifice or will she put a bullet, between his perfect brown eyes, as the rational side of her brain tries to advise her.

A/N: soo uhm, i‘m sorry (no i‘m not lol) this is filth. HAVE FUN also thanks to my lovely @angel-litter who inspired me to write a third part

Characters: Dark!ShaneWalsh x Reader

WARNINGS: age gap (reader is 18+) / explicit sexual content, swearing - I can’t stress enough that this is a dark fic: Shane is a mean motherfucker and just takes what he wants. Don’t like, don’t read. You’ve been warned.

Trigger warning: dub-con | 18+

🔞 MINORS DNI below the cut! 🔞

➻ Part 2 [M]

The sun was setting over the horizon, casting long shadows over the prison walls. The world was quiet, save for the distant groans of walkers and the occasional rustle of leaves.

The group had settled for the evening, a small fire crackling in the front yard, warming the people who stood guard for the night. Shane Walsh sat on the outskirts, cleaning his gun with practiced ease. He glanced up, his eyes narrowing as you approached.

"Something you need, princess?" Shane drawled, his voice tinged with mockery.

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. "Just checking to make sure you’re not planning to run off again. Wouldn’t want the group’s supposed protector to abandon us."

Shane smirked, his eyes glinting with mischief. He knew exactly what you were getting at: On last week’s supply run he disappeared for hours, nobody knew where he went and Rick got nervous as the hours passed by. When the sun began to set Shane casually walked towards the prison, not even batting an eye that almost everyone was looking for him.

Everyone but you. You kept telling yourself to stay away from him, not getting pulled into the dark abyss that surrounded Shane Walsh. He was a hothead and dangerous as he preferred to work alone instead of teams.

Your father worried a lot about the future; your mom’s pregnancy wasn’t helping at all. Thankfully you found the prison and its large protective walls that kept you save; as long as everyone was willing to do their part.

Except Shane fucking Walsh.

Shane’s eyes shamelessly wandered over your body, relishing the memories when you were a whimpering hot mess. His whimpering and hot mess. The older man knew exactly what chokehold he had over you and he so wished to make that chokehold a reality.

“Don’t worry about grown men business, little girl. Get your sexy ass back to the others, I’m sure your daddy needs you to count all the peas in the kitchen.”

Rage boiled inside your stomach and you stepped closer, heart pounding in your chest as its been months since you’ve been this close to him. “You know, Shane, it’s a wonder you keep others and yourself safe with that big ego of yours. Must be hard to fit through the doorways.”

It wasn’t your best comeback but something in his eyes flickered; a tiny hint of anger that washed over his face, giving you a feeling of satisfaction.

Shane chuckled, leaning back and taking in the sight in front of him. "My ego ain’t the only thing big but you already know that, don’t you baby?”

Heat rose to your cheeks, but you refused to back down. "Don't flatter yourself. You're just a big fish in a small pond."

"Oh, is that so?" Shane stood up, his towering presence making your heart race even more. He stepped closer, bodies almost touching. "You seem pretty interested in this big fish even though you try so hard to stay away from me."

You gulped and put a hand on his chest to keep some distance between, afraid someone might be watching you. “Sh-shut up, Shane.” His large hand wrapped around your wrist, giving it a harsh tug to close the distance between your bodies. You let out a small whimper; music to his ears and it made him contemplate the idea of fucking you right here right now.

“Careful, lamb, or I might need to remind you of your past lessons… but you’re not entirely hating the idea of that, do you?”

Your pulse quickened at his words, a mixture of anger and desire swirling within you. You turned your face to escape his intense stare, but Shane was relentless. His grip on your chin was firm, forcing you to face him again.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you. You wan’t me on your side, ya listen? Don’t push me away or ya won’t like the outcome.”

His voice was low and dangerous, each word sending shivers down your spine. Your breath hitched as you met his gaze, the raw power and emotion in his eyes both thrilling and terrifying.

“Shane-“ you whimpered “You’re hurting me.”

His dark eyes glistening with excitement. “Good. I know you like it.”

You swallowed hard, heart pounding in your chest. You hated how he made you feel, how he could so easily break through your defenses. But beneath the anger, there was something else—something that scared you even more than Shane’s crazy look. You were falling for him. Falling hard.

Shane's hand moved from your chin to your neck, his thumb brushing against your pulse point. "You feel that?" he asked, his voice softer now, almost tender. "That's your heart racing because of me.” His thumb continued to caress the soft skin until he positioned it under your chin, chocking you in a harsh grip.

“And I bet that’s your sweet lil' pussy, all flustered and dripping, begging for my cock. Ain’t that right, girl?”

As fast as his grip appeared on your neck it also disappeared as your father turned around the corner.

“There you are, sweetheart!” he spoke, voice soft and filled with love as he laid eyes on you. “Your mom needs you in the infirmary. Hershel’s already with her.”

Rick’s eyes wandered between you. “Everything alright here?”

“Well, I found Y/N wandering all alone out here. She should be inside after curfew.” Shane clicked his tongue as you threw him a spiteful glance. A smirk played around his lips as your father agreed.

“He’s right, Y/N. You know the rules; only the designated guards are allowed outside after 10 pm.”

“But, dad-“

“Zip it, honey. Go help your mother, she’s having another nauseous episode.”

“Great…” you whispered under your breath but softened your gaze when you noticed your father’s look. He was tired. “Okay, I’ll look after her.”

“That’s my baby girl.” he gave you a kiss on your forehead before starting to walk away. Shane waited for him to disappear around the corner before giving your ass a harsh slap.

“Ouch! What the fu-“

“Think of me when you bury your fingers in that sweet cunt tonight. As you do every night.” He whispered in your ear before giving you a slight push. “Now go.”

Almost two weeks passed and you managed to stay out of Shanes way, he was more impulsive than ever. Running around, barking commands and undermining your father as the leader of the group. You despised it, truly hated him and his behaviour but still you lied awake at night, thinking about his fingers and the way they would feel inside y-

“Y/N? Are you listening?”

You teared your mind away from the sinful fantasies it fabricated and turned your head towards your father. The group was sitting around a big table, eating dinner and discussing plans for the oncoming days.

“Huh?” you raised your eyebrows and saw as Shane frowned at you.

“Hell naw, she’s not even listening. Damn, Rick! She’s not fucking ready!” Your father sighed, rubbing his forehead in annoyment.

“No! I listened, I’m ready!” you quickly lied and Shanes eye twitched. He knew you were lying but of course Rick didn’t notice it.

“Really?” he asked and you quickly nodded, a tad to enthusiastic.

“Fine. Then it’s settled; you and Shane go on the supply run for this week.” You nodded once again, way less excited now and looked at Shane who had his arms crossed in front of his broad chest. “You listen to everything he says, is that clear, Y/N?”

Shane smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Oh, she will, Rick. She will.”

The next day the afternoon sun was setting, casting a dim, ominous light over the abandoned neighborhood. You and Shane moved cautiously through the empty streets, listening for any signs of movement.

"Stay close," Shane ordered, his voice gruff.

"I can take care of myself," you shot back but he ignored your sassiness as leaves rustled in distance.

As you approached an old, dilapidated house, the distant groans of walkers grew louder.

"Great," you muttered. "Just what we needed."

"Inside," Shane barked, grabbing your arm and pulling you towards the house.

Shane pushed you through the door, slamming it shut behind you. He quickly pushed a heavy piece of furniture against it, barricading you in. The walkers outside pounded against the walls, their growls echoing through the house.

You anxiously paced the room, nerves on edge. "This is just perfect. We’re trapped."

Shane ignored you, his focus on securing the surroundings. "We’ll be fine. Just stay quiet."

You stopped and glared at him. "You always think you know best, don’t you?"

Shane turned to face you, his eyes cold and hard. "Someone has to keep their head on straight. You’re too busy playing daddies little girl."

"Playing what?!" your voice rose. "I'm trying to survive, just like you!"

Shane stepped closer, his presence intimidating. "You think you can survive without me? You’d be dead if it wasn’t for me."

Your heart pounded, a mix of fear and anger flooding your veins. "I don’t need you, Shane. I can handle myself." He laughed, a harsh, mocking sound. "You keep telling yourself that, princess. But we both know the truth: your little crush isn’t that little anymore. You’re pathetic trying to deny it.”

You took a step back, but Shane followed, his eyes dark with a dangerous intensity. "Why are you doing this?" you demanded but your voice gave away. "Why do you have to be so… mean?"

"Mean?" Shane’s voice was low and menacing. "You think this is mean? You haven’t seen anything yet. I’ve been holding back, but maybe it’s time you learned just how serious I am."

Your breath hitched as Shane backed you against the wall, his body towering over you. "Shane, stop," you said, voice trembling.

"Stop? Why would I stop? You need to understand something, Y/N. You’re mine. You belong to me. And I’m not letting anyone, or anything, take you away."

Shane studied your eyes; they were filled with a mix of fear and defiance. "You don’t own me, Shane. I’m not yours to control."

He leaned in, his face inches from yours, his breath hot against your skin. "You think you have a choice? You think you can just walk away? You can’t, I won’t let you, ever.”

His lips crashed onto your own, fierce and demanding, his hands roaming possessively over your body. You tried to push him away, your brain telling you to get away from him but the wetness between your legs mocked you. Your own body betrayed you.

Shane’s hands gripping your waist, pulling you against his hard chest, his touch a mixture of possessiveness and arousal. You let out a moan as his knee pushed against your clothed sex, roughly rubbing you through your jeans. You needed more, more of him.

“Shane-“

“Shut up.” He spit back, his fingers ripping the button off your pants. “All I want to hear are those pretty moans, you understand?” You wanted to protest but the look in his eyes made you change your mind so you just nodded. “Good girl.”

You sighed when his fingers finally touched you, he stroked them over the drenched material of your panties. “Of course.” he mocked and shoved a finger inside your entrance.

He set a fast and rough rhythm but you didn’t mind, all that mattered was the pure bliss that slowly spread through your system. “M-more.” you begged and it made him snort.

“Needy little whore. You can’t handle more but I’ll give it to you anyways.” A second finger entered you, spreading the tight walls to his liking.

Shane watched your face, your hooded eyes and slightly parted lips with a small whimper escaping here and there. But he needed you to understand that you were his, there was no escape from him. He needed you to scream his name.

“Fuck, darling, your little cunt is tight. This I will enjoy-“ You opened your eyes and glanced at his hardened cock, his tip red and angry and glistening with precum. Shane knew you were a virgin and it almost made him lose his mind as he imagined taking your innocence away for the first time. He saw the fear in your eyes and he loved it.

He lifted you up, slowly pushing inside you, watching all the emotions washing over your face and you never looked more beautiful to him.

“I c-can’t-“ you whimpered and he came to a stop, waiting for your eyes to open. When you did you saw his eyes soften, almost tenderly. But just a moment later you noticed the smirk around his lips. “You will.”

His cock suddenly entered you with such a force it squeezed all air out of your lungs, leaving you gasping between his chest and the wall he had caged you in. The sharp pain made your brain panic but your body, oh your body welcomed him with such ease it was almost embarrassing.

“Shit, you’re so fucking tight-“ he groaned and his fingers dug into the soft skin at your hips. It would leave marks, you were sure, but couldn’t care less.

The pain slowly faded into a completely unique and new feeling, a feeling deep inside you. Something your fingers never managed to even scratch the surface of it. You bit your lips till you tasted blood, his length filling you up at a relentlessly pace. Shanes hand circled around your delicate neck, the grip of his fingers began to tighten leaving you chocking around them. The lack of air left your brain in a hazy state.

You weren’t even sure how it was possible for him to be this deep inside you; his length made it seem impossible but your body proved you wrong as your hungry cunt swallowed him whole. Shane felt his release approaching the more he watched your face and listening to your sloppy moans.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your mouth hung open for a silent cry but nothing came out as your orgasm washed over you in intense waves; your blood rushing in your ears as you came all over his dick.

Shane roughly claimed your lips once again, dominating the kiss as it left you literally breathless. His grip on your waist increased, threatening to break you in half as he fucked you through both of your highs. He gave one final thrust before he came hot and heavy, painting your insides white.

The euphoria from your first time quickly vanished as you felt the warm liquid dripping down your legs. Shane noticed the panic in your eyes and let out a hoarse chuckle.

“Thought I was joking when I said I’ll never let ya go, huh? You’re fucking mine forever, princess.”

The rational part inside you was ready to run, to grab the nearest object and bash it over his head but the other part, the part that was hopelessly in love with this psychopath of a man, stayed still.

Accepting your new fate as you felt his lips on your ear:

“And I’ll kill everyone that comes between us.”

[crystalrainfall]

In brotherhood the Nina conflict is handled varsely differently than it was in the 2003 anime.

First thing to establish is that Edward's age is different, as in the 2003 continuity he's 11-12 years old and he's been living with Tuckers during that time due to his state alchemist exam.

The Elrics knew the Tuckers longer in the 2003 anime.

Whereas in brotherhood I believe the brothers were 14 and 15 respectively and obviously they didn't stay as long with the Tuckers either.

The aftermath of the confrontation between Al, Ed and Tucker is also different.

In brotherhood scar kills both tucker and Nina before the military can properly deal with them.

In 2003 Nina escapes the night the military arrives, what's also important to note is that the Elrics haven't left at that point either.

So while Tucker is captured, the latter, Nina is later killed in an alleyway by Scar.

This is a major divergence from the Manga because this means that the Elrics actually see Nina's corpse splattered onto the wall, because remember they haven't left the scene.

Scar doesn't fight them afterwards like In brotherhood, Edward, in 2003, has an unpleasant conversation with Mustang instead.

In both versions they were very distraught when they found out about what happened to Nina.

Edward in brotherhood after finding out about Nina's death has a reflection of his own limitations as a human and mustang passes by and ultimately doesn't say much if anything, showing no reaction.

In 2003 it's very different as I've already established, Edward sees Nina's corpse, he's more conflicted, he's lived with her for months, he's Twelve... He's absolutely in denial.

Whats worth mentioning is that earlier he wanted to try to at least separate Nina and alaxander and even during his scene of denial he pressed his hands against the wall not expecting anything but just wishing he could fix it.

That's when Mustang confronts Edward in 2003 , yanking him forward, Edward flinches, Alphonse looks concerned in the background, Mustang tells him the harsh reality that he can't breakdown every time something bad happens, he's in the military and he should get his act together.

Harsh reality being, some things can't be fixed.

Edward runs away, the rain still pouring down, concealing his tears and vulnerability from the rest of the world as he mourns the death of the girl he viewed as his own sister.

Something like this scene was foreshadowed earlier in the 2003 anime, this need for Edward to be able to confront the harsh truth but him not being able to because he's a child in an adults world.

This is shown by the scene in which he couldn't stand the sight of one of Barry the choppers victims, the scene reminding him too much of his failed human transmutation, the woman resembling his mother too much. So he passed out.

Edward in brotherhood fights Scar , he doesn't even get the time to mourn Nina's death, this is shown by his utter confusion as scar approaches him, he's saved later by Mustangs team and Hawkeye places her jacket on Edward's shoulder to shield him from the cold and it additionally acts as a silent gesture of comfort. The Nina arc ends with the brothers moving forward with the help of their comrades.

Edward in 2003 despite not fighting Scar directly after the Nina arc, doesn't get a break either.

After Nina's death, he's ordered to take over Tuckers research as the brass believes tuckers work to still hold some value.

This means salvaging anything useful for the military and potentially warrant that a similar inhumane thing like the case of Nina and Alexander can be repeated.

Edward doesn't want this, he doesn't want to be a state alchemist if it means to assist to such heinous things.

Instead he wants to do something right and find Nina's killer.

He isn't rewarded for throwing a tantrum though. He isn't rewarded at all for trying to be noble and do something right.

Instead Winry is kidnapped by Barry the chopper, they both almost die, Ed almost makes the hard decision of almost killing Barry to survive, and he breaks down again.

Faced with his own weakness, he cries alone, no comfort given.

Ed is rarely rewarded for anything in 2003, any hope he gets is crumbled down immediately, these episodes occurred back to back, one bad thing after another and it just goes on like this. The narrative chews him up and makes it so that no matter what Edward wants to do it will never go his way because it's a cruel and random world.

Equivalent exchange doesn't exist and the heroes aren't guaranteed to be rewarded for all their efforts no matter how selfless they are. Because the world's not so ideal like in Brotherhood.

[kaahgyuya]

>> Angst - violent descriptions, death, blood, abandonment, huge spoilers for the Sumeru archon quest/Wanderer story quest! Extremely long. (I'll put a '☆' once it gets to the actual good part.)

Just know that I tend to switch to gender pronouns to you/yours/you're sometimes so just a heads up before you read! ( ￣▽￣)

Wanderer x gn!reader

Below this is the text, read the warnings/heads up before pressing the keep reading. Thank you! (　＾▽＾)

The puppet, 'Kabukimono' traveled across the lands. Gently caressing the grasses he lied upon, gently reaching for the stars he saw at the midnight strike, and gently crying from the nightmares he drew.

After he met you, though.

The broad horizons felt warmer, and happier. Running to you with a smile and a basket full of soft lavender melons and how sweet and the tender taste would comfort your taste buds.

"____ look!" He pulled their wrist and leading them to a beautiful cliff of inazuma. His light veil slowly lifted off his head as their grasp grabbed it in time before it flew away free.

They gently fixed it on top of his head making sure it wouldn't fall behind. Gently pushing their hands a bit forward to cuddle him with his own soft veil.

They smiled at him.

"Be more careful it doesn't fall off again, Kabukimono." Their smile shifted to a warm one.

Kabukimono's eyes widened a bit, only for his expression to change to a happy smile broadening his face.

"Thank you, ____." Kabukimono still firmly but gently holding their hand.

Only for mere minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years, to only pass for a few seconds. Holding onto your hand as his cold wet tears fell onto their cheeks. Cradling your bleeding body as traumatize and fear covered his once gentle face.

"Please.. wake up, cmon.." His tears stained his cheeks and fell onto theirs.

Grasping onto your consciousness only to let go and only hear the verbal screams he once tore.

"You promised you wouldn't leave me.." His face contorted into disappointment, and sadness. Unable to control his tears they fell down rapidly.

Kabukimono let's go of their body. His once sparkly and curious eyes now filled with disappointment and anger. He walked away emotionless, moving on without asking, why or who?

years passed on and on without effort, yet it still haunted him and made him cry in his own sleep once more. Whispering to himself again how he could've saved every moment with you.

It came until then he was a God, then face forwardly falling into the harsh ground, crumbling as he landed. Unable to recreate his wantings and needs.

The God of wisdom, carefully cradling and crafting memories of once who. Remembering the past and forgetting it immediately, the large platinum pink tree brightened and glowed. Gently caressing the lands of Tevyat. Carefully caring for the gentle and fragile memories it's collected.

Only for the retired 6th fatui harbinger to step foot into the irminsul, with the silver companion and the blonde Traveler; Lumine.

Small chatter and comments filled the quiet domain of the blue tree, galaxy like lands filled the outside brim forgetting about complete real reality. Scaramouche found them having a conversation to themselves and he questioned, still collecting the information needed. Saying small words and sentences to each other.

"So uh, have you found anything yet?" Paimon put her hands on her hips as she nervously glanced at him like how he knew the Traveler, Nahida and herself had a telepathy conversation.

"Still looking. Don't get your hopes up though. You and your twin come from outside this world. It wouldn't surprise me if there was nothing on either of you in irminsul at all." Scaramouche complied blankly. He still looked for information inside of the irminsul as they continued.

"...Wait, how'd you know about that? Did Nahida tell you?" Paimon questioned confusingly. She crossed her arms and continued to look at Scaramouche.

"It's not like we've never met before. And anyway, you're world famous. It'd be more surprising if I didn't know a few things about you." Completely ignoring Paimon, he didn't turn around but his gaze moved to Lumine's direction behind him.

Scaramouche still stood silent. The talking of Nahida and Lumine and Paimon all numbed in his brain like static.

After a long time of just standing there completely silent, Paimon finally broke the silence.

"Sh—shall we see how he's doing?" Her voice trembled slightly like she was hesitant. But they approached him anyways.

"Hey, you all right..?" Paimon hesitantly asked.

Scaramouche, turned around at the Traveler and companion. He crossed his arms and had a smug face on like he was up to no good.

"..Are you worried about me? If we didn't have such a history, I'd almost think that qualifies me to be your friend." Scaramouche blankly admitted.

"We just want to make sure this doesn't effect the plan." Lumine stated.

"It won't. I'll keep my end of the deal." Scaramouche said, with that blank tone still painting his tone of voice.

Scaramouche scoffed quietly as he turned back again towards the tree and stuck his arm out again to collect information once again like nothing happened.

"Hey, are you investigating the stuff we wanna know about?" Paimon asked.

"That's why we're here." Scaramouche replied. His attention was turned once more to the tree.

"But unfortunately, there's no information about the Descenders in Irminsul." Scaramouche shrugged and turned back to them. Nahida and the Traveler talked and Lumine was disappointed, as the same goes with Paimon.

"Does this info count towards my mission? It wasn't from Irminsul, but was it valuable?" Scaramouche asked to Nahida.

"Very valuable." She responded.

"Good. In that case... I'll take some time for myself now." Scaramouche suddenly smirked, and a bubble like barricade surrounded them.

"Lesser Lord Kusanali was right: My power's all but completely spent. Even if I use all of the divine power left in me, I can't sustain this shield for very long." Scaramouche continued.

"Lumine, I shared a secret with you, and now you owe me. So, in return, I'd like you to answer a question for me." Scaramouche stepped forward to them both.

"What do you wanna know?" Lumine's curiosity was somewhat piqued.

Only speaking to the Traveler, he carefully worded out

"Give me your hand." Scaramouche stuck his hand out for the Traveler to hold. He waited, but the Traveler hesitated. But held his hand anyway.

"Can you hear my voice inside your head?" Scaramouche asked. His voice echoed through Lumine's mind as she processed it.

"Are you trying to brainwash me?" Lumine asked, completely ignoring his question, but somewhat answering it at the same time.

"No, l cant do anything like that anymore. At most, all l can do is exchange a few words with you." Scaramouche blankly said.

"So tell me: in this world, is it possible... to change the past?" Scaramouche asked sternly. It set Lumine off a bit.

"Wait, why would you ask that...?" Lumine responded. He was definitely up to no good whatsoever.

"Done." Scaramouche let go of her hand and the bubble disappeared. Paimon was completely clueless as she just floated there, next to them.

"Huh? What the.. What happened? Paimon only saw you hold hands for a second.." Paimon pointed out. Lumine thought for a second until he looked at Paimon.

"Nothing. I was just thanking her for helping me." Scaramouche said blankly, but a smug still painting his expression.

Lumine thought for a second, and then he turned around and walked away towards the tree.

"So long. I suggest you get yourselves out of here quickly." Scaramouche said. He approached the tree.

"Wait— where are you going!?" Paimon exclaimed. They both went running after him, but he disappeared.

"Don't do anything stupid!—" Paimon yelled out. Her voice echoed through the domain and Lumine and Paimon both went looking for him. After a while, he was no where to be found. Only to realize, he erased himself from existence.

☆

days later after his existence was erased, he met with the Traveler, but he was no long the Scaramouche Lumine once knew. He was Wanderer. They quickly resolved that matter into their own hands, reiving the memories of few.

It came until then, he finally remembered you. He totally had forgotten about the person he treasured most. The person who shared a community to show him the love and attention he has now. He still drowned in his guilt, knowing you were dead. Only to be drowning in the memories he once had when he was kabukimono.

"I'm going to get fresh air, Lesser Lord Kusanali." Wanderer put his hat on and looked at Nahida. Nahida had a blanket on the floor as she had some books beside her. She lifted her head towards him, and she smiled.

"Alright, but no need to call me that anymore. Don't go fooling around though, Hat guy." Nahida chuckled.

"Enough with the nickname, anyway bye." Wanderer scoffed and he left. The large door opened, and then closed, leaving an echo in the large sanctuary. Nahida's soft smile still lied on her face, and she went back to reading. Tiny glistening and soft sounds barricaded the outside of the sanctuary.

Wanderer walked out the Sanctuary of Surasthana and exhaled. He stepped down the stairs and walked some more, and then some more.. and then until he couldn't even recognize his surrounds.

"Where the hell am I?" Wanderer looked around his surroundings, of course he was still in the city, just... somewhere he wasn't in before. He went to look around for someone to ask.

He looked down at his pocket, and took something out. It was a tiny puppet. The fabric was soft, and the puppet had soft clothing. Dark indigo hair with flat bangs covered the front, wimpy closed eyes with a single tear drop at the side of the eye. He smiled softly, and it was genuine. The tiny puppet, he made with an old lady. He never met the old lady before, but the lady taught him how to knit a puppet of his own. This one resembled the one he was once given in the past, that was now gone. (Reference found in his story 4)

He exhaled, knowing he'll never see them again, and especially.. you. He sat on a bench looking at the people of Sumeru walking by. Still firmly but gently holding the puppet. Time had passed quickly, and the sun was now over dawn, and the gentle dusk was arriving. He hummed to himself.

His eyes widened when he lied his gaze on a certain figure.

"Wh..." Wanderer's eyebrows furrowed, he shoved the puppet in his pocket and stood up.

"You're... no." Wanderer blinked and then blinked again. Then again, and then again, and then again. He hadn't felt his feeling for a long time. Tears glistened from his eyes.

He ran towards the figure pushing away from the small crowds and didn't hesitate.

He was so close, and he engulfed the stranger with a hug.

"Wh— who?—" the stranger and Wanderer tripped a little until they got a steady balance. His hat fell on the floor.

"Hm?" The stranger looked up at the person, it was wanderer. Hugging them from behind and hugging them tight against his chest. His head lying on their shoulder.

"Have we met before?" The person turned their head and gave Wanderer a warm smile. Wanderer lifted his head and looked at them.

His expression was normal, but then immediately contorted into his furrowed eyebrows and his slightly agape mouth.

"No it can't...—" Wanderer hitched his breath.

"Do you have the wrong person?" Their warm smile changed into an awkward one. A feeling of nostalgia washed over them, like this had happened before. But where? When?

Wanderer looked at them, tears falling down his face.

"Wha— are you okay?!" The stranger suddenly panicked and they both suddled down a little. They both sat at a bench as Wanderer sniffed through his tears.

"I'm sorry for the sudden outbreak. You just reminded me of someone." Wanderer apologized. But he had to make sure, he had to make sure—

"It's okay it's okay! I was just kind of lost around Sumeru city, you seem like you know your way around here." The person pointed out.

"Oh uhm, no. I was just lost as well." Wanderer awkwardly said.

The person chuckled and continued to talk. Wanderer had to make sure. The way you talked, the way your hair looked, the way your eyes glistened and the way you just.. looked at him. It was like you were talking to an old friend, but you just met him.. right?

"Oh! I'm sorry I was rambling, was I wasting your time?" The person came in an abrupt stop in their sentence and looked at Wanderer in slight worry.

"No, you're not. Keep talking." Wanderer chuckled and gave them a small smile.

The person stared at Wanderer, their expression softening. Has this happened before? It felt like it's happened multiple times, so many times.

From afar, Nahida was watching them both. Blending in with the small crowds of people, she walked and looked at them with a soft gaze.

"Oh? Okay then! And apparently in Liyue they have really good teas, I feel like you'd like ones that are especially bitter. I'm sorry if I'm assuming but I just feel like it." They talked cheerfully at Wanderer. Wanderer was so blinded by listening to them talk he didn't even know his big softie side was showing.

"Oh I almost forgot to introduce myself! My name is ____." They added.

Wanderer's smile faded. And he looked at them. He didn't hesitate to ask but he sat up more straight and his mouth began to open.

"Can I hug you?" Wanderer gently asked.

"Hm? Okay." They said. They opened their arms and Wanderer didn't hesitate to come into their embrace. His arms wrapped around their waist and he hid his head in their shoulder. Gently sneaking his hand cupping the back of their head with it.

"It is you." Wanderer gently muttered.

For the people that read the part of him in the irminsul with the Traveler and paimon the dialog comes from the actual game so credit to them!! And some other small references put in it. I hope u enjoy the angsy 🫶🫶

@xyouami 9/24/23 12:01 pm

[writingoddess1125]

In Another Life

Depression Time!!

Trafalgar Law x FemReader

Sadness, Angst, Death. And More Saddness!

Support me on Ko-Fi! Gotta survive to write more!

Wrote this while watching a movie- can probably guess the movie..

'Law! You have to promise me, when we get married we get a kitten' You giggled at your long term . The two of you holding hands as you walked through the meadows next to the secret base.

Law bristled at your words, remembering his own parents and the happiness they shared- but also the heartache he experienced thinking of them. The two of you looking to each other-

'Why do you say that?'

'Cause kittens are cute?- especially ones with gray fur and blue eyes' He cut you off with an annoyed scoff.

'No the marriage thing? Why would you think I'd marry you!?' His words harsh and rude which made you flinch.

'Law.. We aren't long for this world- we have already spent most of our lives together then seperate.. I'd want to spend the rest of it with you' You said so softly, confuses by his tone. Law yanking his hand away from you in false anger.

'Then I shouldn't waste my time in doing something stupid like marriage' He said annoyed. Your eyes filling up with tears, you didn't say a word. Instead walking away from him- he didn't stop you. Assuming you had just went to clear your mind from the harsh reality- but he didn't expect you to never return at all...

He should have know... he should have truly heard her words when she said she waan't long for this world...

That had been years ago.. he hadn't heard or seen (Y/N) since. Truthfully he regretted that so much- his world ever darker since that day.

At night he would wince when he thought back on his words before sleep- his dreams filled with the life he should have had with her if he wasn't so angry at the world.

It had been a few days ago however when he'd gotten a letter- recognizing your handwriting so well. But he never could have even guessed the words on those pages- asking to see him again before (Y/N) passed... a illness no one could treat claiming her life and taking her away soon.

Running to her home, he went to the hospital she was in- entering the room with a heavy heart knowing what was on the other side.

Law had always been a man of few words, but as he stood by (Y/N)'s side one final time, a thousand emotions wrestled within his heart. Her form weakened by the ravages of time, lay in a bed adorned with soft blankets that him and others had brought for her, her frail hand clasped in Law's strong grip.

"I wish we had more time," Law murmured, his voice heavy with regret.

(Y/N) smiled weakly, her eyes shimmering with love as the light began to fade from them. "We've had a lifetime of memories, Law. I am grateful for the time we've shared."

Her words struck Law like a blade to the chest, as he struggled to hold back the tears threatening to spill. His hardened exterior cracked, and vulnerability seeped through the cracks.

"I often dreamed of a life together, you know," Law confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "A quiet house by the sea, with our children running through the sand. We would sit on the porch, holding hands and watching the sunset."

Her expression softened with reminiscence, her voice a gentle melody. "That sounds like a beautiful lofe, Law. A life filled with love and peace."

Law's grip on (Y/N)'s hand tightened, as if trying to hold onto the fleeting moments they had left. "I would have given anything to make that dream a reality. To protect you, to see you smile every day."

(Y/N) lifted her free hand and gently caressed Law's cheek. "You have already given me so much, Law. The love you have shown me is more than I could have ever asked for."

Tears rolled down Law's face, his breathing uneven as he held back sobs. "If you'd had told me- I could have save you! protect you from the cruelty of this world. But..."

Her touch provided a soothing balm to Law's tortured soul. "You gave me a life filled with adventure, love, and purpose. Our time together has been a gift, Law.. even if it had to end like this."

Law lowered his head- sitting next to her as his tears started to drip onto the bed, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs. (Y/N) despite her weakened state, gathered her strength and pulled Law into a tender embrace. They held each other, the weight of their emotions filling the room like an unspoken song.

As the sun began to set, its warm glow bathing the room in a golden light, Law whispered his final words into her ear. "I will carry your love within me until my last breath, and beyond. You have forever changed me, and our love will have another day."

(Y/N)'s touch grew feeble, her breathing shallow. She mustered the strength to raise her gaze to meet Law's tear-stained eyes. "Thank you for loving me, Law. I will always be with you, in your heart."

With those tender words, (Y/N) slipped away, leaving Law alone in a world forever altered. He held her lifeless hand, his despair mingling with the emptiness in his chest as loud desperate cries ripped through his soul.

Law sat in the inn, staring at the empty bottles infront of him- his chest feeling hallow and full of regret. Part of him wanting to walk into the sea and return to his love.. see her smiling face one last time-

Rolling himself up from his seat, he stumbled out of the bar- the alcohol making his brain fuzzy and uneven as he was met with the cold night air. His mind drifting to the sea... maybe he would see (Y/N) on the other side- his family.. love out that fantasy the two of you had always wished for.. one that he was too stupid to realize was more important than anything else-

As he walked down to the peir, his mind only of his regrets in life.

He looked out on the ocean, his legs felt like they were lead and he wanted to jump in and let the Goddess claim him- till the sound of his name drew him back. Looking to see a man in a suit rushing to him with a box and crate in tow.

"You there! Are you Trafalgar Law?"

"Yeah what's it to you?" Law grumbled-

"Ah Sir. Im Wallace J, Lawyer for (Y/N)- You were listened in ger will fkr everhthing including her home but (Y/N) had left some items that needed to be personally handed to you- oh and this" The man said calmly as he gestured to the crate.

Law looked confused by this and nodded, taking the box and opening it. There his heart broke for a second time that day- there was several letters, with his name on it- he knew (Y/N) hand writing too well to say these were from anyone else.. paired with the dried flower ring he had made her years ago when the two of them were children, with other sentimentalthings from his childhood. The lawyer holding out a letter that had been separated from the box. The doctor quickly taking it and reading it-

My Darling Law

As I write this letter, I want my time with you in this world has come to an end. But i want you to know that my love for you is unwavering, and my deepest wish is for your happiness. Life is a journey filled with twists and turns, and in those moments when I may not be by your side, I implore you to seek joy and love.

Find someone who fills your soul, someone who understands and cherishes the beautiful person you are. Embrace love, laughter, and companionship with another. Life is too short to settle for anything less than genuine happiness.

Remember, your life is precious and unique, and your happiness is what I want the most for you.

So while I can't be there to be on that journey, I still want you to walk thay path. I know you are hurt, and im sorry i was the one who caused it.. but I hope this little guy can give you just a bit of love to you while you find your way.

I love you Law, to the end of the stars and back.

Forever yours, (Y/N)

The doctor gave a breathy sigh as a sob threated to spill from him. Setting the box down as he looked to the crate, Opening it slowly and tears rolled down at the sight.

A gray kitten with sleepy blue eyes mewed at him- Law reaching forward and picking up the little thing. Remembering the words when the two of shared long ago.

'When we get married- you better get me a kitten. One with gray fur and blue eyes'

The lawyer watching in empathy, watching the man before him crumble and fall to his knees as he held the kitten in his arms.

[moonrisecoeur]

soothing - leon kennedy

a/n: (PLEASE READ) hey! this is moon! this post would not show up in the tags with the long and detailed warning i put on it, so i made that a separate post. please read this post first before you even look at this one (that post will have the normal info like what content is it and word count along with more notes).

—

leon knows you’re… obsessive. he’s noticed your harsh glares and you possessively holding his waist when you’re both out together. he doesn’t miss the way you talk to other people, especially other people you know would theoretically be leon’s type. he assures you that he’s yours, he belongs to you, that no one will never get to have him the way you do, but it doesn’t make those feelings go away for you; it only mellows them for a short while.

he can’t say he planned for his partner to be so insanely obsessed with him, but it does make him feel better sometimes. especially when he’s having really rough days. when he feels worthless, like the only purpose of his existence is to be a weapon for the government to apathetically throw at problems, you’re there. you remind him, in your own twisted little way, that he’s valuable to someone. even if it’s in a “i need you like i need oxygen so no one else can ever have you and no one else deserves to lay a finger on you i will cut their hands off if they try” kinda way.

the world is fucked up anyway, who’s to say he gets to judge moral character? you make him feel desired and wanted, so what if you’re not a good person?

he’s rather introverted anyway, so it’s not like he’s going out every night and meeting new people. combine that with low self esteem and trauma from, well, being leon, he’s drained and can’t be bothered to care if you’re a little too obsessed.

hell, his last ‘relationship’, if you could call it that, was with a girl who tricked and betrayed him time after time and yet he loved her despite it all. maybe he has a type for the bad ones.

he loves you now. he knows he loves you. he knew he loved you when you once risked everything to save him, and he knew you loved him when you got very brutal revenge on his behalf. he kinda likes your violent side when it works in his favor.

but he still tries to keep you from doing the worst that he knows you’re capable of. he knows if he said more than a few words, or god forbid smiled at any of his friends who you thought ‘wanted him’ (because why does literally everyone want to fuck him?) you’d lose it. he tries to keep your temper contained, so he plays nice, though it’s worth it to him.

to have someone want him so badly that they’d kill for him and do anything to keep him… the idea makes leon’s knees weak. he’d do anything to feel wanted and needed for you. the more you claim him as yours, marking your territory, the more butterflies he feels in his stomach.

you tell someone, “he’s mine, so either back off or i swear that i will fucking rip out your teeth one by one.” he watches them run away pitifully, before turning his attention back to you. you’re smiling at him, and bring your hand up to play with his hair.

“sorry you had to see that, know you don’t like it,” you say softly.

he brushes it off, because he always does. he knows you mean well (even if you don’t). he knows you only threaten others or act violently because you love him and he needs that love. besides, you’re so thoughtful for apologizing because you know he doesn’t like seeing this side of you (which is not entirely true but he did feel bad for that person).

one day, you stumble upon him in your shared room while he’s crying. he tells you it’s okay, it happens, he’s learned how to get through it by himself. you shake your head, noting that this obviously isn’t okay. you sit next to him on the bed, wrapping your arms around him, and you two sit like that for just a moment.

“you’re okay,” your voice stills the air, brings him back to reality, “you’re not in danger, and i’m gonna be here to protect you, okay? i’m here because i care about you, so let me care for you, baby.”

he nods with tears in his eyes, resting his head on your shoulder. he’s forgotten what it feels like for someone to really care, to hold him and tell him he was going to be alright.

after a moment, he’s able to get his breathing under control.

“thank you…” he whispers.

“of course, baby, i’m here for you. i’m always gonna be here for you, i care about you so, so much, leon. no one else will ever care for you the way i do, as much as i do,” you murmur, and he doesn’t seem to notice something glaringly wrong with what you just said.

he doesn’t notice the thoughts swirling around in your head, adoring how fragile he is right now, wanting him to always be like this so he’s always this vulnerable, this dependent on you. he can’t notice any of it. he just lets you hold him, and holds you back in return.

you hold each other until he starts to pull away first, rubbing his teary eyes with the back of his hand, “god, i- i’m sorry. jeez, nothing even set it off. one minute i- i was fine! and the next…” he trails off, and you tell him he’s okay. he’s allowed to be vulnerable and emotional with you. you like him like this anyway. or maybe you just like the way his blue eyes shine when he cries.

and you’re wayyy too overpowering just as a person for him to ever be in charge, especially in bed. sometimes it’ll be soft, just two lovers touching and fondling each other, gasping and moaning and kissing wherever possible. but sometimes your possessive side comes out. it happens the most when he does something you don’t like, i.e. ‘flirting’ with someone else (he was just talking and joking around).

he does like your possessive side though. he likes being pinned down, and if you think you’re not strong enough, trust me, you can put yourself in the right position to make it so he can’t get out from under you. or you could just handcuff him or tie him up, that always works, but there is just something about being physically held down and kissed until his brain shuts off that makes him into a perfect fucktoy.

he likes when you pull out a marker and write stuff like ‘mine <3’ or ‘property of y/n’ on him. especially if it’s with a permanent marker and in a place that people can easily see, on his wrist or neck. he feels claimed, owned, a sense of being property belonging to someone else, not himself.

despite loving your darkness, leon appreciates that you’re rather… soft on him. you take it slow so he has time to adjust, make his heart jump with love and affection every single time you praise him (which you do often bc how could you not? it’s leon, c’mon now) he knows you have it in you to be harder, to fully degrade and humiliate him if you really wanted to. you choose not to.

one day you come home, covered in what he can assume is not your blood. his stomach drops at the thought of what you did, and he goes through every possible interaction he had that day that could have made you do something so drastic, so terrible and cruel. he comes up with nothing.

“what… happened?” he asks, nervously. he tries to keep distance between his body and yours, but you’re closing in on him.

“killed two birds with one stone… literally…” you smirked as he takes a cautious step back, feeling what used to be butterflies in his stomach turn to this heavy sense of dread, “that girl that told you your eyes were ‘so pretty’ and… that guy that touched your arm like he wanted to fucking bite it. don’t worry, sweetheart. i took care of them.”

were you expecting him to thank you? for… committing murder? he’s… at best he’s disappointed and at worst he’s literally horrified.

and it’s terribly timed, but on a separate note? you look insanely hot covered in blood. maybe the feeling in his stomach is only half fear and half something else, or maybe one of his kinks is being afraid for his life. who knows?

you come closer to him, and he can’t find it in himself to ask you to stop approaching him, closing in on him like a predator does it’s prey, “baby,” you murmur to him, softly like you do when you’re soothing him when he’s crying, your hands both coming up to cup his face, getting blood all over his cheeks. your thumb brushes against his bottom lip and he swears you’re intentionally smearing blood on it, “it’s okay,” you say.

it’s not okay, dude. you just killed two people.

maybe you’ve killed more that leon doesn’t know about, and tonight was the night you felt like having him see you like this. you could have gotten away with it if you wanted to, and he would never have known, but you chose to let him find you like this, clothes ruined from how much blood splattered on them, that sadistic ass smile on your face.

you wanted this. you wanted him to see you like this. you wanted to take him like this.

you lean in, pressing a bloody kiss to his forehead (imagine whatever kinda scenario necessary that fits this height wise for u i’m sorry >.<) before leaning in to kiss his lips, both tasting the iron and feeling the wetness of the blood dripping down your chins as he touches you back gently, his hands caressing your arms as you hold him and landing softly on your hips, like he’s saying it’s okay, i accept you for the monster you are.

he knows it’s wrong, he knows he’s a good person and you’re not and there’s a clear line that you’ve brazenly crossed, but he can’t help the butterflies he gets when you’re the darkest, cruelest version of you. covered in blood and all, you want him. despite all his flaws, you want him. he can’t deny you, not when you’ve only ever soothed him when he has traumatized breakdowns and assured him that he’s more than just a weapon or a tool, that he’s loved and needed and wanted.

you press one of your legs between his thighs, forcing his legs open and he lets you, whining as you continue to kiss him, and your hand palms him over his jeans. he feels weak, cornered, and you know you’ve got him right where you want him when you lean to whisper in his ear, “mine.” and he whimpers pathetically, nodding fast as you kiss his neck just a couple times, gently and bloodily.

despite everything, you’re just so endlessly gentle with him that he can’t help but let you get away with this. maybe if he could just get the image of their faces out of his head, he could get over it. once you’ve made him cum three times in a row, his body on the brink of giving out on him, safe to say that’s when he finally forgets. he can’t really think much of anything.

“oh, sweet little thing, don’t you understand? i had to get rid of her, she wanted to get in the way of our love,” you say. and he’d just nod dazedly.

“o-okay,” he mumbles. his brain is foggy and your touch makes it hard to think, but if you say it’s true, then he’s inclined to believe you. clearly, you were doing the right thing by getting rid of her. obviously.

“and that poor boy, it’s too bad that he was a whore, wanted to grope your muscles so fucking bad, hm?” you smirk, “did you like it when he did that? when he touched you?”

“n-no, i-i only like when you do stuff like that to me,” he says he exactly what you want to hear, grasping onto you for support, knowing without you he’d fall apart, “please, i don’t care what you do or… or who you hurt because you love me! just please love me!”

“of course i’ll love you,” your tone softens, you take the victory with a smirk turned soft smile, brushing his hair out of his eyes behind his ear, “you’re so pretty when you’re obedient.”

conditional praise; truly the best way to manipulate him for example: “you’re such a good boy when you only look at me.” that’s his kryptonite, because leon thrives off of praise. being told he’s a good boy makes him giddy on the inside, even if he tries to control his reaction. praise is how you control him.

and after you’re done with him, you put your clothes in the washing machine, take a shower, and walk out like your normal self. he makes you both dinner and you cuddle him to sleep just like usual. though while you’re fast asleep, he lays awake, thinking about what just happened.

he’s always known this could happen, and maybe this isn’t even the first time you’ve killed someone because of him. he’s known for a while now that you’ve become cruel and violent when it came to his relationships with other people, but he can’t shake the feeling of fear deep inside his soul when he physically saw what you’re capable of.

even in your sleep, you touch is soothing to him, and he remembers that he doesn’t really have any better options. he’s convinced no one will ever love him as strongly as you do (not just because you’ve told him that but because again, he’s got low self esteem and you’re way nicer to him than he feels like he deserves).

does he just let you be? no, that wouldn’t sit right on his conscious. does he continue to try and curb your violent tendencies against his better judgement and morals?

or does he try to leave you? he thinks he knows you wouldn’t ever truly hurt him, and he wonders whether or not you’d let him leave if he tried. (he’s not going to, but he wonders...) he just… doesn’t see what else he would do. find someone else? they won’t love him like you do. be single? sure, and be miserable every day because all he can think about is your love, your touch, you.

“what do i do with you…” he mumbles to your sleeping form, resting his head against your chest, feeling the slow heartbeat pumping inside. he likes how it shows your humanity, your normalcy. the one thing about you that doesn’t feel so far away from him.

leon loves you. truly. he doesn’t want that fact to be overshadowed by how disproportionately and insanely you love him. he loves you, still cares about you, still wants to see you happy. you make him happy, in some ways, even if you really terrify him in others. you comfort him and soothe him, you assure him that he’s safe with he wakes up with nightmares from the horrors he’s seen.

he wants to care for you, wants to be the one to hold you when you’re sad and you’re having a bad day. somewhere deep inside his heart, he wants to protect you and keep you safe. even if he knows that’s absurd (because you’re a killer… god he can’t get over that..) he can’t help that his nature is to care for people. maybe that’s what drove you to such insanity in your love for him: in his heart, he never stopped caring about other people. he is the same selfless hero he always was. his softness and care for everyone around him is what made you fall for him… and what made you insane when it comes to your love for him.

despite how terrible you are, he remembers all that you’ve done for him, the moments where your softness and gentleness really showed. he loves that side of you the most. that’s the one he fell for, after all. but he’d be amiss to think that’s the only side of you, or to not acknowledge the other. your cruelty towards people other than him is a side of you just like your kindness towards him is a side of you. they coexist whether he likes it or not.

he comes to the conclusion that there is no sweet you without cruel you, and he must learn to love both or to love neither. he decides he’ll love both, but still maybe try to keep the evilness contained. maybe he can try to talk you out of killing more people.

and when he begs so pretty for you to focus on him and not on the girl trying to flirt with him at the coffee shop, how could you refuse him? if you pulling him away to suck dark, tender hickeys into his neck is the alternative to you killing that poor girl, then he’d say that’s a win-win.