#and he was taught to ignore his own pain by his own parents so that's the lesson he continues to hand down to his children

[deancasforcutie]

#yes yes yes #Jack is pretty much like Amara #they just had different physical aging-up speeds and methods and end goal. #Dean's actions at the end are very much caused by him being deep in the 'can't tell what's real' trap that Chuck set #(like... what existential crisis has been more existential and more crisis than this one? heheheh) #and by him always thinking that if the ugly thing must be done it has to be him #it's so painful and so interesting (via @ironworked)

#yes exactly exactly!!! #is Dean a perfect parent? #no! firstly because absolutely no parent in the history of the species ever has been #and secondly because yeah he DOES have a major stumble in Unity when he's at the apex of basically a year-long extreme mental breakdown #it was devastatingly poor handling of the needs of his child during an emotional crisis when his emotional reserves #(which are already critically low on a good day because Dean has been pouring from an empty cup since he was a toddler) #reached their absolute lowest level possible. he had NOTHING left to give to anyone and was desperate for freedom in a caged animal way #and while yes Dean's words and actions ARE going to have an impact on his and Jack's relationship going forward #one that they're going to have to reconcile and deal with and integrate into that relationship going forward #it's not outweighed by the years of trust and simpatico and love between them you know? #Dean is still the parent who was consistently honest with him in a way he desperately wished his own father had been #Dean is still the parent who recognizes the burden Jack carries better even than Cas #Dean is still the father who taught him to drive and took him fishing #and made sure that he got to live his life on his own terms when he was dying #Dean is still the father who— when he recognized he wasn't equipped to handle the problems his child was having #rather than just writing it off or muddling along and potentially doing more damage by ignoring it #made the active choice to reach out to someone who had more expertise and got Jack support from someone with similar experiences #that's incredibly good parenting #like none of TFW are perfect parents. they're all bringing their own Issues™ into their parenting of Jack #but goddamn with the exception of a critical misstep in rhe eleventh hour Dean was a REALLY good parent to Jack #and it's time we acknowledge this (via @ilarual)

So...thinking about Dean and Jack...

Jack is not a child. He is NEW, but he is a cosmic being of unknowable power who was cognizant enough in the womb to save Kelly because he was still using her body as an incubator, and to show Cas a manipulative, glorious vision of his future actions specifically as they relate to Cas's desires. When he is born, he speaks English and understands peril, has the physical strength and angelic power to defend himself. He doesn't understand the world, but he is a VERY fast learner. There are a lot of ways in which children are vulnerable and need protection that simply do not apply to Jack at all. He is not a baby, physically or mentally.

Where Jack is vulnerable is in his sense of self and his identity. He is emotionally and spiritually vulnerable, and he is vulnerable to manipulation. From the first time Sam talks to him, he is asking Jack if he can re-open the rift, and Sam DOES want to use him. I don't blame Sam for that, it's a perfectly logical thing to want. Sam believes Mary might still be alive, and he wants to use Jack to go see, and hell, maybe as a weapon, too. Sam needs to believe that Jack can be good and useful to them, and he is not really honest with Jack at first. Dean is right about that.

Dean, though? Dean is completely, 100% honest with Jack in every interaction, no matter how ugly the truth. He tells Jack exactly what he thinks and feels. He has a very reasonable reaction to Jack as a still-unknown cosmic power, and Dean quite reasonably sees him as the reason Cas is dead. Dean is emotional and grieving, but he is honest. Later, as he comes to see Jack as something other than a threat, he is kind to Jack while still being honest. When he comes to love Jack, he loves him honestly. He never lies or manipulates Jack even one time until they lure him into the mal'ak box, and when they talk him into it, Dean can barely look at Jack and makes Sam do the talking, because he really just can't. Lie. To. Jack.

Jack emulates, loves and respects Dean. When Jack thinks Dean has to kill him, he understands and accepts it because he trusts Dean. I think Jack looks to Dean for an honest, clear-eyed assessment of his situation. Cas is blinded by love, Sam is more interested in utility, and Dean is being forced to sacrifice Jack, who has become his and Cas's son -- his family. If Dean can do it, Jack is willing to submit, and then DEAN CAN'T DO IT.

it makes no sense to me to apply real-world child/parent roles on them, to compare Dean with John, who was raising human children, or to think of Jack as an actual human child, and I don't blame Dean for any of it. Dean is so emotionally compromised by so many different ways and I think there is a widespread tendency to begrudge Dean his legitimate feelings when they aren't comfortable, and to apply reality-based roles to these characters who are not at all living normal lives. When it comes down to it, Dean STILL loves Jack (and Cas!) too much to kill Jack or to lie to him, even after Jack oopsie-daisy kills Mary in a moment of uncontrolled panic and has no soul and can't tell right from wrong, and can't even feel remorse. Jack is legitimately dangerous, and Dean is not wrong to try to contain that.

And, by the end of the story, when Dean is saying Jack is not family, not like Cas and Sam are, Dean has lost his compass, and we know that because he also deceives Amara, and tries to kill Sam. Dean is truly in error in those scenes, and doing the wrong things, and seriously, Dean is so good, so self-sacrificing, so full of love that I am able to forgive him a moment of error at the climax of his existential crisis. By that time, Jack is a complex character who is as heavy with grief and guilt as Dean is, and who feels the weight of the world, like Dean does, and who understands Dean.

Is Dean perfect? No. Is Jack a child? No.

I'm just going to say it: I think Dean was a good father to Jack, because what Jack needed more than anything else was honest information about who he was, what threat he posed, who loved him, and HOW to love, so that he could decide who he was and what he wants to be.

He got that from Dean.

[yanderes-galore]

in love with the platonic yandere aegon ii and the greens too, will you please write more? 🥹💖 i cant imagine the thrill he’d feel when you bond with a dragon, and maybe even actively seeking him out and being there for him when the maesters treat him. i would love to see reader be so caring for helaena and their little sister, training to fight for the purpose of protecting them from harm. i can also see reader being inquisitive of their lineage as a targaryen, asking their uncle aemond to let them see vhagar and learn about their family. i can also see queen alicent being weirdly caring like seeing reader as another chance of being a better mother?

This is extended thoughts based on the Darling in this concept I'm linking here. Kept Darling Female as she was in the previous concept.

Based these extended thoughts on the Anon comments you made ^^ I don't mind making a few other cute ideas. Sorry it isn't all that yandere, I wanted to make cute content with the subtle echo of a threat without forcing unnecessary conflict.

Yandere! Platonic! Team Green Extended Thoughts

Pairing: Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Female Darling, Overprotective behavior, Isolation, Manipulation, Clingy behavior, Fear of loss, Violence, Dubious companionship.

While Aegon is nervous about it, a good Targaryen princess and queen needs a dragon of her own.

So eventually you'll be given one of your own.

Dragons are rideable rather quickly, so within a year and a half you'll have a rideable dragon.

It's a hatchling of your own with pretty scales and piercing eyes.

Aegon himself would want to teach you the ways of having a dragon.

Although he often comes off as arrogant with his explanations, using Sunfyre as an example as he shows you how to properly command a dragon.

Uncle Aemond may be the one to teach you High Valyrian to not only hold conversations and mess with Aegon... but to give better commands to your mount.

Even if Aegon was burned, he still asks for frequent updates on your progress.

Of course the burned king feels thrilled to see and hear you able to control a dragon of your own.

While he was anxious at first, he feels quite prideful to see his eldest daughter prove herself.

Aegon loves you the most out of his children, even if laws limit you due to being a woman.

You're just so determined to do good for your father.

Aegon usually doesn't want you to see him suffer when the Maesters treat him.

Yet you often go out of your way to show up and stand beside his bed.

You love him even if Aegon tries to isolate you from the world.

Aegon only wants you to focus on your family....

It makes him happy even if he's pained when you hold his hand.

You're loyal, staying by your father's side as he's treated after being burned.

Although, eventually, Aemond will call you away to teach you more.

Be that swords or ancient languages and history... Aemond takes a great deal of enjoyment when becoming your mentor.

He even offers to help you with your dragon bonding, showing you Vhagar and teaching you how to treat your own mount.

Aegon would hate you being shown Vhagar but Aemond knows he can't do anything about it.

Since you've been taught to care for family, you care for Helaena after the death of one of her sons.

You often help her parent your younger brother and sister, sitting quietly in her chambers as you watch the two babes coo to each other.

You beg Aemond to teach you more in order to protect your family.

Your uncle is amused yet teaches you of course.

Sometimes people wonder if Aemond is trying to gain your favor instead of Aegon...

Aegon was never into history or very dedicated to swords or language.

Which means Aemond spends a lot of time preparing you.

Your grandmother, Alicent, may wish her sons taught you like a proper lady.

Despite it, Aemond usually ignores her and gives you the lessons you desire.

Speaking of Alicent, you're right when you'd say she'd want to parent you to try and be a better mother.

You may be Aegon's kid, yet she finds herself also attentive to you.

She usually visits Helaena's chambers when you're there to interact with both you and your mother.

Alicent loves you too... and with how you're being brought up... she's happy at least one Targaryen seems to have their heart in the right place.

Even though Aemond, Helaena, and Alicent are usually the ones who have your attention... you still return to Aegon.

You lay beside him as he rests, telling him of your progress as a young Targaryen princess.

Aegon is pleased with it all... you're almost fit to be a queen... you just need a husband...

Although Aegon dreads the idea of promising you to anyone.

Sure, you'll have heirs of your own someday...

Yet for now Aegon wants to keep you to himself for a while.

You're his promising princess... more precious to him than anything...

The rest of the family feel a similar way, you're like their trump card.

None of them would ever let anything happen to you.

Blood has already been spilled in this war, so them executing anyone else in your name isn't too unheard of.

The last thing The Greens want is to let The Blacks have you.

They don't want you being tempted and betraying them... or being kidnapped... or worse.

So, for now, Aegon and the rest want to keep you isolated...

If you ever got captured by The Blacks... or were tempted to leave your family by other means...

Fire and blood will follow.

[moonlitstoriess]

Across the Universe-ch.1 (Azriel x reader, eventual Fenrys x reader)

Summary: Y/n has everything she needs in life. A family, friends, a safe place she calls home and most importantly a male whom she loves. What happens when it all changes when Y/n finds out about the betrayal of her lover and her so called family? Well, ending up in Terassen and in queen Aelin's court was not what she expected but what she will need to start her new journey full of surprises.

See masterlist

A/n: hey everyone! so this is my first work on here and I just hope you will enjoy it. Please do not hesitate to comment whether you like it/want more of it or if you have some good constructive criticism to give! I will give some clarifications at the end of this chapter as to not give away any spoilers beforehand:)

Being a female Illyrian with wings was never meant to be easy. Growing up and not knowing your parents was perhaps the greatest pain a child could endure. Especially if that child grows up in a cruel place like the Illyrian camps. For the first 20 years of her life, y/n knew nothing but pain, mistreatment and hatred as she spent her youth at the cruel hands of an old Illyrian bastard. Of course, what y/n went through was never kept as a secret but it is not like anyone cared anyway. This was Illyria, the mistreatment of females was not a surprise. In fact, the vile monsters who called themselves warriors, encouraged it.

And just like any other female unlucky enough to be born in Illyria and have wings, y/n had to get her wings clipped. Even after all those years, that moment that changed everything for y/n is still so vivid in her mind...

The leaves in the forest crunched as his boots kept stepping on them while dragging her through the maze of trees.

"Please, please I beg you do not take my wings!"

He kept on ignoring her. She called him a 'He' because y/n would never willingly say his disgusting name. Not when he was the cause of all her trauma and illnesses. She kept thrashing, begging and trying to get away but it was useless.

"I beg yo-"

Her words were cut short as a slap was delivered to her face.

"Shut you mouth! you useless bitch"

She never begged. No, y/n was strong, even then, at her weakest she was strong. She never begged. Not when he would burn her hands, not when he would whip her back, not when he would beat her up because she forgot to do a chore. But now she begged. She begged for her only form of freedom, her precious wings. At that moment y/n knew what had to be done. This was the last straw.

"Stay like that on your knees and do NOT move, or else you won't like the consequences."

As he turned around to search for his tools, y/n sat there on the ground in the middle of this dark forest just outside the outskirts of the village and knew she could not go down like those before her. For 20 years she submitted to his every will but not now, not again. Weak coward is what she has been and now it was time to change that.

When he turned around, y/n was holding her only form of protection, her pocket knife that she would always hide under her clothes. When he was close enough, y/n gave a final prayer to the mother and attacked him with a sloppy move that would result in either her freedom or death.

"It is time to truly make you bound to me you bi-"

He did not get to finish his words as the knife he did not see in the dark, found its mark in his throat. Crimson red blood was everywhere as that monster choked on his own blood like a damn fool and finally, slumped to the ground.

The rest? Well, the rest became history as y/n left that night with his blood still soaking her own clothes and body and his fresh corpse laying on the ground. She would never let anyone ever dictate her life again. Never would she be weak again. And so, for the next 80 years of her life, y/n went from one place to another and taught herself how to fight and be like a warrior. Her name began spreading around like wildfire, as people started talking of the Illyrian female who not only managed to keep her wings but also killed her abuser.

She helped hundreds, by recruiting victims of different horrible events and teaching them how to fight and protect themselves. Y/n became a legend especially in the eyes of female Illyrians who tried to follow her lead. This was also the reason why y/n one day opened her door to see the High Lord of the Night Court waiting for her. The smile on Rhysands face was blinding as he praised y/n while also telling her about how it was a dream of his to get rid of the old Illyrian traditions and rules set against the females. It was on that eventful day that the High Lord also offered y/n to join his court and make a very impactful visit to Illyria after all these years to help him make those changes.

At the time, it was a huge step for y/n as she delegated her role as a trainer to her first-best student who was more than honored to continue y/n's job in the training academy. When she came to Velaris she was in awe of its beauty and comfort. The inner circle welcomed her with open arms and although y/n was a little distant at first, she soon got along well with everyone and especially Cassian as they trained daily together. It was also the time when the first seeds of her crush on Azriel were planted.

Therefore, by the age of 100, y/n was an official member of the night court, a legendary figure who started to make her changes during her visits to the Illyrian camps. This time, she went in not as a weakling, but as a feared and well-respected fighter, female and most of all, Illyrian. But even with all of the fierce titles that she got, y/n still felt like turning into a small, shy and meek girl whenever Azriel was around. Rhysand sending them together on constant missions did nothing to ease her increasing infatuations with the famed shadowsinger either.

Unfortunately, they got closer during the darkest of times when Rhysand sacrificed himself to protect his court and city from Amarantha. It was then that, Azriel and y/n shared their deepest, most raw and intimate moments with one another while also doing their best to protect the city in which they were locked in thanks to Rhysands wards. Those moments were what led y/n to confess her true feelings to the spymaster during the 4th year of what would be Amarantha's 50 year reign of terror. After that day, they truly became lovers in all aspects that mattered. Even though that unmistakable bond of a mate did not appear, y/n knew it was only a matter of time before they both felt it. There was no other way.

Today, sitting here on her lovers chair in his office, y/n felt proud of herself and her loved ones for overcoming so much. Rhysand and Feyre under the mountain, the war against Hybern, Nesta and Elain becoming high fae, and the attack on Velaris all left many scars both visible and invisible on everyone. Knowing that everyone has finally found some form of happiness and that her lover is safe with her should have made y/n happy, excited even. But as of late, she could not bring herself to feel anything because Azriel was not the male she once knew.

For a very long time now, the shadowsinger has been distancing himself from y/n in favor of spending more time with a specific redheaded priestess, Gwyneth. What was once called the hour of reading by y/n and Az in the comfort of their home, turned into reading with Az and Gwyn in the library. Even during training, Gwyn would respectfully decline y/n or anyone elses offers to train her and would instead ask Azriel to teach her. He would always happily oblige, leaving y/n alone as Cassian trained with Nesta. At first, y/n tried to understand and reason by thinking that since Azriel was the one to save the priestess from facing a terrible fate in the library of Sangravah, it was only fair that she felt safe around him. However, the other priestesses were also saved by Azriel, Cassian and Rhysand and yet, y/n never saw them be as clingy as Gwyn was towards Azriel.

The final nail in the coffin came when Azriel started coming home late and locking himself up in his office and leaving early in the morning. This meant that y/n never saw her lover, let alone kissed or made love to him. That is how it led to her finally coming to his office to wait for him and get some answers to her questions.

"Y/n? W-what are you doing here?"

That slightly nervous voice drew her back into reality as y/n looked back from the window showing the beautiful city, to see Azriel standing in the doorway with dishelved hair and a sort of scared look in his eyes, no matter how much he tried to not show it, y/n knew him like the back of her hand. Being together for 52 years does that to you. This was not a good sign then, for Azriel never showed such a shameful expression and his shadows were nowhere in sight.

As y/n got up from the chair and started walking towards him, her mind and soul clinged onto that last thread of hope that the male whom she loved was not unfaithful to her, that he would explain everything and she would see that she was making silly little assumptions out of nothing.

Unfortunately, all that hope came crashing down as y/n got close enough to him and smelled that scent of another female, that scent that belonged to...Gwyn. And if the small dark marks that were peeking above the spymasters shirt were any indicator, they did more than just read together.

Y/n felt like she was drowning, like a huge mountain just crashed down on her and she was left under all that rubble to suffocate and die. She was frozen in her spot, unfeeling and unmoving as she felt her body shut down completely. Clearly, this only meant that she would shatter soon enough but not here, not in front of him. Never would she ever be weak infront of any male. And so, with a voice that conveyed no emotion, she asked, "How long?"

"Y/n ple-"

"How long, Azriel."

Azriel sighed as he looked anywhere but at her when he said, "Since the first time Nesta brought her to train with us."

"But that was 2 years ago."

After seeing him nod very slightly, she reigned in her tears that were burning the backs of her eyes, and asked one simple question,

"Why?"

Now it was the shadowsingers turn to look as emotionless as he could while saying, "Because she is my mate y/n."

Mate, mate, mate ofcourse he would have a mate, no matter how many years they were together, neither of them ever felt that bond snap. Foolish, so foolish to think, to hope that they were destined to be, that their bond would snap any moment. But how cruel can one be to hide the truth for 2 years, To go behind her back, even if Gwyn is his mate, and be unfaithful? To not admit the truth as if y/n wouldn't understand. And Gwyn? how could she never once mention it to y/n during all those moments spent together? How, how how..

As if that pain was not enough, Azriel confessed, "I am sorry y/n but truly, did you think we were fated to be? I always knew what we had was temporary, that we were never going to have a happy end as the cauldron would give us both our own mates. My love for you has always only been platonic...have you not noticed that I never once said 'I love you'? I saw you as a friend, a companion in whom I could loose myself for a while as I waited for my mate to come. Truly, you were good, so good to me, kind and caring and yet, so foolish. You imagined and expected too much of us y/n...for you I was a male whom you desperately loved but for me, you were simply someone who I could spend my time with until my mate arrived. I love Gwyn, I have taken her to the house of wind multiple times and made love to her there, I have spent my time understanding and creating as many memories as possible with her. From the moment I saw her 2 years ago when Nesta brought her, I felt this pull towards her and now...now I could never get enough. I do not say this to hurt you, but to make you see the truths that we were never what you wanted us to be."

Y/n took a deep inhale, the only indicator of her emotions at the moment while still processing his words and asked her final question while still staring at the wall behind him, "Who knew?"

Azriel was confused for a minute because after all that he had just confessed, she only asked that? Not to mention how much it was killing him to not understand her current emotions and expressions as y/n stayed completely unflinching, staring at the wall and expecting an answer from him. So, with a shameful sigh, the spymaster replied, "Everyone knew."

At that moment, y/n knew 2 things with clarity. First, never should you trust someone, no matter how close you are with them. Never should you give your heart to someone because in the end, they shall shatter it anyway. In this life, you are always on your own. Y/n has always been alone even after joining Rhys, y/n walked her own lonely road. Second, her "family" were traitorous liars. For the past 2 years as y/n descended back into her depressive moments, as she got flashbacks of those horrible times from her youth spent in the Illyrian village, as her panic attacks and insecurities started to resurface, the inner circle did nothing to pull her out of it. But what else would you expect from them? of course they would protect Azriel and his actions, no matter how disgusti-

"Y/n? please talk to me, I am going mad here with your lack of words and emotions. Please sweetheart." as Azriel's hand made contact with y/n's wrist, it was as if an electric shock brought her back to life.

Y/n slapped him right across the face as she said her next words in a tone so cruel and unfeeling, her enemies did not even hear that tone before meeting their death's at her hands, "If you touch me again, my knife shall find it's mark between your eyes, so unless you do not want to leave your precious mate a widow so soon, I suggest you get the fuck out of my sight, shadowsinger."

"Y/n ple-"

"Oh and, since you are such a loyal dog to him, do tell your rotten high lord that I am leaving his rotten court. I shall be gone by sunrise."

As she turned to leave his office throught he backdoor, Azriel did something that Y/n had never known him capable of doing. He fell on his knees as tears threatened to spill from his eyes and begged in a voice so shaky, y/n could only think whether he was even real.

"Y/n I beg you, let us talk properly, Gwyn kept telling me how I must let you know. That she hates being a secret but I was such a coward I-I..plea-"

"I do not care what Gwyn has to say. Save your tears and pleas for someone who cares Azriel, you are right, you are a coward and perhaps you always were one for playing with my feelings in such a cruel way. Do not come after me or I swear I won't hesitate to end you with my bare hands."

With that, y/n turned her back on the male for whom she would once move the mountains for, for whom she would sacrifice herself for. The male whom she loved so much and yet, this whole time he toyed with her, he saw her as a placeholder. What a blind fool have you been y/n.

The second y/n made sure that Azriel left the house, she broke down in tears. For the first time in a very long time, y/n cried unstoppable tears. But that moment came to an abrupt end as she heard a voice. Whether it was within her mind or from somewhere else she did not know and did not care because even though the voice sounded so far away, she got this immediate urge within her soul to go find it.

Deep down, y/n knew she should let it be, that she is possibly imagining things and that she should start packing now but that urge within her tightened as if wanting her to go find the source of the voice. So, with a final wipe of her tears, y/n stood and leapt through her window, spreading her wings and following that string to reach the distant voice.

As y/n began nearing the source of the sound, she realized that it is coming from the house of wind. She should have turned around and left at that second because seeing this house now only brought back Azriels words about how he spent his time here with Gwyn. Atleast that is what the y/n who was not possesed by an urge would do. But alas, this thread only grew stronger within her, leaving her no other choice.

As she began walking down the halls of the house, y/n looked back on all her memories with the inner circle here. Once, those memories would have made her smile fondly but now, they only make her feel anger and disgust. They knew this whole time...such liars, such tra-

No...this could not be it. The urge within her must have been playing a foolish trick because no way was the voice coming from this room. But that urge within her had died down as if finally only the double doors in front of y/n were stopping her from getting to the voice. But this room wasn't just any room. It was the warded room containing all 3 objects of the Trove AND the Book of Breathings.

From here, she could clearly hear the ugly, hissing voice of the book saying, "Welcome, The Terror."

"Why are you hesitating? Open the door child, open it."

As if on cue, the wards around the room disappeared and the doors opened for her. Y/n could only be confused for a second before an unknown power forced her to walk into the area. And there it was, that book sitting on the circular table in the middle of the room, beckoning for her to come closer.

"The Iron Phoenix, you finally came to learn your destiny."

Y/n scoffed as she looked at the silly book from a distance and said, "Did you truly waste my time by making me come to you so that you could spit your nonsense at me? I have enough to deal with already, I do not need another headache from you."

As she turned around to leave, the book hissed loudly, "Do not mock me you fool, I know your deepest secret Winged Fury, a secret so precious not even your once beloved lover knows."

At that, y/n turned around with a shocked expression all over her face and asked, "How? How do you know of it?"

"You can not know more than me, Valkyrie, I am the one who knows it all."

It seems today was the day when y/n had to find out just how little she knows about everything. She had enough, and this stupid book will be the unfortunate one to be the outlet of her emotions. Furious, she took quick strides to reach it as she began, "How dare you?! you call me here to spit nothing of value at me while I just went through the wo-"

A sudden wave of power hit her as y/n felt like she was stuck in one place right in front of the book. Her walls, her mental walls they...they were being melted down as she felt her mind fall into some hypnotic spells.

With a voice so beautiful and eerily soothing, the book says, "Open me, open me Braveheart and see your true destiny."

Somewhere, the last sane part of her was telling y/n that this was wrong, that whatever will happen once she opens the book won't be good. Unfortunately, y/n seemed unable to follow that voice as her fingers made contact with the cover of the ancient book and flipped it open.

The book started flipping its own pages until it landed on the one with language so old, y/n knew that it was not remembered within the past history. Her mouth began moving against her will as she began saying the words on the book in such an experienced manner, it felt as if the ancient object had posessed her.

At some point, y/n could hear distant voices...was that Rhys? Az? Cas? or no, no maybe that is Nesta or another female who is screaming? Y/n could not move, could not think, as if her sole purpose was to finish the spell. She could distantly feel her body loosing its physicality. Was she disappearing? Was she becoming a ghost?

As she was saying the final words of the book, y/n turned around to find everyone from the inner circle in the room trying to get closer to her. Despair was all over their faces but it was Azriels tear striken face that y/n saw for the last time before darkness welcomed her.

"You are home now, Stormbreaker, you are home."

"Now, you shall unfold your true destiny."

With a jolt, y/n shot her eyes open and got up from...was this a grassy hill? as she turned to look behind her, there was a small lake with a white...is that a deer? What is this place? Where was she?

But y/n did not get to explore anything else as she felt the cool edge of a knife press into her throat from behind as a male voice said to her, "You move, you die."

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

A/n: Damn this was fun to write! What secret does y/n have? I did leave a very tiny clue on that for anyone who might find it;) Anyway, I know most of you were maybe expecting Az to cheat with Elain but i am a Gwynriel shipper through and through and just could not think of Elain being such a homwrecker. Of course I am pretty sure Gwyn isn't one either butttt just for the sake of plot ya know. This won't be the last time we see the acotar characters as they will appear hopefully in the later chapters. But for now, sit back and watch y/n's new journey in this new world.

[gatorbites-imagines]

Hey! I hope you’re doing good in ur exams!!

Can I request a Tomura x Male reader?

Before the whole war…please, I’m grieving a lot for way too many reasons. ☹️

Tomura Shigaraki x male reader

Headcanons

Big sucker for gamer Shigaraki, why did people stop writing it. So im basing this off earlier season Shiggy, but you can imagine him how you want.

Reader has a quirk vaguely based off Yaga from JJK, cuz I love JJK, and I love Yaga.

Dating Shigaraki was an… experience to say the least. He could be quite bratty or childish at times, but you couldn’t really blame him, especially after hearing about his relationship with that sensei of his.

You weren’t a villain. But you just… didn’t respect the system and thought the hero system was corrupt beyond redemption. You didn’t think Shigaraki’s Sensei had the right idea either. But you had been ignored more than once by the so-called heroes meant to save you.

You had what most would call a “villain” quirk, having the ability to make something akin to dolls or golems, some even being so complex they could think and feel on their own. You had even created more than one that didn’t know it was a doll.

Being raised by golems was an experience, as your parents had been so offput by your quirk and interest in how everything and everyone worked. They’d fed you and clothed you, but that was it. and when your younger siblings developed more “appropriate” quirks, the gap became massive.

It had led to you leaving home as a teen, having finished and graduated online school earlier than most.

You had left a small unnoticeable golem in your home, just to see how long it took your family to realize you were gone. The answer was three months, and it was only because your rich grandpa who had a string quirk, who had always supported your love for puppets, came back from abroad to visit.

The gratification of hearing and seeing your loving but serious grandpa rip your family apart verbally, and then take away all the monetary support he had been given them, was almost enough to cover up the pain of your empty stomach and warm you where you were huddled in an alley.

Meeting Shigaraki had been an accident in the beginning. Your golems had only gotten more and more complex, meaning you suddenly had an income that was more than enough to get your own place, with one of the golems as the “owner” of course.

After that you started selling information and different kinds of “defense” work. That meaning, you helped people hide from the hero commission, and get information other people couldn’t. what was better for that situation other than an army of people that just didn’t exist.

You were picked up by Giran, who had taken notice of your large net of people, whom he didn’t know were your puppets and golems. He, or rather All for one, paid much more than you really needed. But all these years had taught you more than most knew about the inner workings of hero society, so you didn’t turn it away.

You did have a slight feeling that All for one wanted to eat you after he learned about your quirk. But the whole having to build the skill and mental capacity seemed to stop him, for now, since he apparently didn’t have time to perfect it in time for what he had planned.

You were the first outsider in the league of villains, way before anybody else joined, which was how you and Shigaraki started spending time together.

In the beginning hed been his dry snappy bratty self, and he just reminded you of the dirty street cats that you used to feed when you still lived in alleyways. They’d hiss and spit, trying to puff up and look tough, but they always just looked so frail and vulnerable.

Neither of you could tell when your relationship became more than just coworkers. Maybe it was when Shigaraki had Kurogiri warp him to your penthouse since your tv “was bigger and better” than the one he had in his room.

Or when you started bringing him designer clothes that would fit him better than the rags he wore, or had your golems break into different shops to get him some ointment that would help with his scratching.

You even caught yourself once or twice trying to play his games, but you figured out your usual strategic and put together mind lost all its footing playing LOL. Never before had your age quit, and you were too shamed to try again after that.

Shigaraki would admit later that he had tried to get into your hobbies too, with a big blush on his face and a sour expression, like he didn’t want to admit that he had feelings. He couldn’t really get into the art that was doll and golem making, and just how detailed it got for you had his head spinning.

Neither of you ever outright asked the other to date, it just kinda progressed to that point. Shigaraki spent more time at your place than at the “villain hideout”, even after the rest of the league joined.

You started going on dates, which were you booking an entire arcade or restaurant, and having your golems serve you. Or letting Shigaraki lean against you playing his handheld as you planned stocks or different businesses you had your fingers in.

In front of others, you two just seemed like allies, maybe friends on a good day. And it only came out after Magne and Toga had been teasing Shigaraki about having no experience, where he snapped at them that he had a boyfriend, you.

The rest of the league were shocked to say the least, since you two didn’t act anything like a couple around them. But both you and Shigaraki just raise a brow going “why would we be all lovey at work”.

It didn’t surprise you that Shigaraki was touch starved and loved to cuddle. In the beginning he would almost act like it pained him to be touched and cradled. but so many years with no normal human contact always had that effect.

You weren’t used to it yourself, having gone so long with only the touch and comfort of your dolls and golems, but none of it was the same as when it was another person.

The two of you were pretty much dating in your shared opinion, before you ever really got physical. And by that, I mean, you started out by just sitting close or you wrapping your arms around Shigaraki.

Your lover was understandably scared of touching you with his hands, even when he wore gloves to stop his quirk from working. So, it was a major breakthrough when he did return the hugs, or would hold your hand.

But when the floodgates for affection opened, Shigaraki would always find himself clinging to you like a cat searching for warmth. It was pretty damn cute in your eyes, and whenever he would shuffle into the room, you just life an arm and let him melt into your side.

Most days you could keep working, answering the phone, checking your laptop, and what else. But there were also days where Shigaraki would grumble about dusting your stuff if you didn’t cuddle him right.

Part of you had a feeling it was Shigaraki wanting you to take a break, and the other part was sure it was just cuz he liked to be squeezed tight and snuggled. But who were you to complain.

[hufflepuffwriter1995]

 Title: His Queen 

Pairing: Gwinam x Chubby!Named Reader (Ryoko)

Fandom: All of Us Are Dead 

Summary: She was his queen and god help anyone who disrespected his queen. 

Warnings: Now: Mentions of abuse, swearing, pain.  Eventually zombies, swearing, blood, gore, fighting, and smut.

Notes: Gwinam is still a bully but never filled Eunji topless, that still happened but he wasn’t a part of it. He is also a tad less insane in this but still toxic. Enjoy. I fell down a rabbit hole of this and it's time I share. 

Two Years Before The Outbreak.  

   “You need to find a way to prove it.” Jisoo sighed as she carefully began to patch up the cut over my right eyebrow. I let out a sigh, wincing as she gently wiped the alcohol swap against the cut. I had hoped that with how often I was in this position, I had gotten used to the slight sting. Being my brother's punching bag had left me covered in small cuts and bruises and more often than not, a few broken bones that I was left to treat on my own. 

  “We have been through this.” I sighed, holding still as she began to apply the bandage to my eye. “Unless we can get his face on video no one is going to believe it’s my brother. How many times have my parents made up some random excuse about how he couldn’t possibly have done it because you can’t see him?” Jisoo was my only friend, the only person that my brother and parents haven’t been able to drive out of my life by employing threats or bribes. Her parents were saints, her dad a high-profile doctor who handled all my injuries and her mother a lawyer who was working endlessly to get me away from my parents. The problem was, that my parents were too careful, too eager to use their government standing to their advantage. So they never got far in the process of getting me out and were too afraid to push too hard in case I was forbidden to see Jisoo. 

   “We will find a way. He’s getting too confident, he will have to mess up at some point.” Jisoo sighed, her concern for me breaking my heart. Even after three years of having her by my side, I wasn’t used to having someone who not only cared but truly loved me. Years of abuse from my brother and my parents telling me if I was a better sister, their precious son wouldn’t have to hurt me, had taught me I wasn’t one to be loved. 

   “I am sure you are right. Myeonghwan isn’t all that smart.” I winced, waiting for the hit even if I knew it wasn’t coming. She pats my cheek with a loving smile. 

  “If he doesn’t I will find a way to make it happen.” She spoke with so much confidence, so sure that she would help, that I couldn’t help but smile at her. I started to say something when the door to the classroom we were sitting in opened and my brother glared at me. 

  “Come with me.” He demanded, ignoring the way Jisoo tried to valiantly to protect me. Squeezing her hand, I reminded her it would be worse for me if I didn’t go before moving to my brother. He grinned, gripping me by the hair and pulled me from the room.  

  Gwinam 

  Giwnam didn’t like people, he could tolerate people at best. That is until she came into his world. The first time they had met, he had been injured, a nasty cut along his arm from a prick that tried to surprise attack him with a knife. He had been sitting on the tennis course, cursing angrily at the prick as he tried to stop the bleeding. She had come up on him without a word, silently taking his hand in hers as she began to clean out the wound. Her voice was soft as she wiped at it with an alcohol swab. She didn’t scold him, or yell at him, only told him that if it happened again applying a tight dressing would stop the bleeding. She had left him with clean bandages and gauze, telling her to change them before he went to bed.  

  The second time it had been her that had been hurt. She had been limping down the hallway when an asshole ran into her from behind. Gwinam had barely been quick enough to get his arm around her waist to keep her from falling. After making sure she was alright, he tracked the boy down, beating him before pulling around until he found her again, forcing the boy to beg for her forgiveness on his knees. She had been shocked, her eyes widening in surprise before telling him she would only forgive him if he promised to be careful in the future. With Gwinam promising hell if he didn’t, the boy had promised he would between stammers. She had nodded then, thanking Giwnam with a smile that stopped his heart, before turning back to her friend. A clear dismissal for the prick at her feet. 

  Since then he had been uncomfortably aware of her. Doing what he could to help make her life a little easier, while also plotting revenge for whoever was the cause of the near-constant injuries. While he hadn’t figured out who had hurt her yet, he was determined to figure that out. Whoever it was, would pay tenfold for every injury that she suffered. He had just settled down for lunch when her friend came running, frantically looking around before finding him. Relief seemingly washed over her. 

   “Gwinam!” She screamed, pushing past a few startled students as in her frantic way to greet him. He raised a brow at her, wondering what the hell could be going on, when she slammed her hands on the table, chest rising and falling. “He’s going to kill her. He’s going to kill Ryoko!” She whispered. 

  “Who?” The wave of protection-filled anger washing over him took him by surprise but he promised to deal with that later. 

  “Her brother, Myeognhwan. He broke her ribs earlier this morning, if he hits her there again he will kill her. We can’t get him to stop, if we don’t get his face on video he will get away with it.” She spoke quickly fear causing her voice to shake. “No one else will do anything.”

  “Follow me and keep quiet. Keep that phone in your fucking hand. Where would he take her?” 

  “Behind the school, tennis court.” She breathed out, hope starting to flash in her eyes. He tossed his drink onto the table and stood up, racing out of the cafeteria with the girl, Jisoo he thought, following on his heels. By the time they reached the door that led to the back of the school, his hands were clenched in panicked-filled fury. What if he was too late, what if she had waited too long? Shaking the useless fears from his head, he slowly opened the door, holding a finger to his lips as he slipped out, phone in hand as he filmed. Jisoo followed the look of pure rage in her eyes, earning some respect from him. She was ready to go swinging for her friend. 

   “Faw stupid cow!” Myeonghwan grunted with each kick to her stomach. His girl didn’t a sound, only breathing harshly through her nose with each kick. Her eyes were closed, but tears still fell silently. Oh, the things he was going to do to the boy. Myeonghwan would pay for each tear, for every injury and then some. 

  “Son Myeonghwan.” He called out once he was in a position that would cause both of them to get his face. Grinning wickedly, he zoomed in on his face, catching that stupid prick as he realized what happened. “This is what is going to happen. You are going to listen to me, if you don’t Jisoo posts this all over social media.” 

   “Send. To. Your. Dad.” Gwinam couldn’t help but the pride that washed over him at his girl, beaten and weak, took her power back. 

   “You fucking PRICK! You will p…” He was cut off as Gwinam snapped, pinning him to the wall by his throat as he punched him hard in the stomach, pulling back to punch him again. 

   “Touch my girl again and see what happens.” He snarled, pulling away as the prick began to show signs of passing out. Without another word, Gwinam turned and carefully scooped up Ryoko, tucking her against his chest as he nodded at Jisoo. “I got you pretty girl.” As he headed to his car, Ryoko smiled faintly, moving her head just enough to kiss his cheek. 

  “I’m safe.” She whispered before passing out, her body relaxing as the pain became too much. Her words though echoed through his head. Never once has he made someone feel safe but he made her a quiet and silent vow. So long as he drew breath, no one would hurt his Queen.

[nico-di-genova]

“I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.”

or

“You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.”

(for lestappen please, you can choose whichever one you prefer (or both, I would not mind both)) have a great day <3

32. “I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.”

“You’re ignoring me,” Max states when he manages to get Charles alone for the first time in nearly a week. It is a feat accomplished only by knocking on his hotel room door until the Monegasque either grows tired of the noise or fearful of the attention it will bring. Charles Leclerc does not do anything he does not want to do, and it is clear at the moment he does not want to see Max. Even if he says otherwise.

“I am not.”

“Liar.”

“I am not lying.”

It’s clear he is, from the tension in his shoulders to the set of his jaw, to the way he keep glancing between Max’s feet, the door behind him, the blood red sleeve of a Ferrari hoodie that’s been thrown across his bed. Anywhere other than Max’s steel-eyed gaze and the hurt that must be obvious there.

Max knows how to read him, he’s had years of practice by now and the drive to study. Charles is far too expressive for his own good, his eyes betraying him when he does briefly glance at Max and there’s mirrored pain there. He looks away quickly, knows Max will see it, bites his bottom lip and curls tighter in on himself against the dresser he’s propped back on.

“Why are you avoiding me?” Max asks, calm, because he knows that raised voices accomplish nothing. His parents taught him that.

“I don’t know what I did wrong, Charles. You have to tell me, please, because I cannot read your mind.”

Not for lack of trying, not for lack of want. He’s spent countless nights studying Charles’ face in his sleep, the curve of his lips, the mole where his jaw meets his ear, another next to his nose, the way his eyelashes fan across his cheeks in a way that makes Max’s stomach do summersaults. He’s tried cataloging every expression Charles has ever given him simply for the pure organization of it. Like understanding Charles was a sport and he was going for the title, but it is the one game he cannot seem to win. The one where Charles always finds a way to throw him for a loop right as Max thinks he’s finally putting together the pieces.

Charles shifts against the dresser, uncomfortable under the pure weight of Max’s gaze. He swallows and Max watches as his adams apple bobs. A week ago he was pressing kisses there. A week ago Charles let him.

“Whatever I did, I’m sorry.”

Charles shakes his head, “You did not do anything.”

His voice is thick with tears, the way he gets after a particularly rough quali, or a DNF where he comes out with bruised ribs and fractured confidence. Max steps forward, the urge to comfort, soothe, fix overriding him, but forces himself to pause. His reaching hand drops back limply to his side, spasms with the memory of Charles’ shoulder beneath his palm.

Charles’ hands fist tighter around the fabric of his shirt, where he’s attempting to comfort himself.

“Then what is going on?”

“I-,” he shakes his head like he’s clearing away a memory, clenches his eyes closed until Max can see the tears beading at the corners, “I think I am in love with you.”

He opens his eyes and Max is confronted with the glassy shine of unshed tears.

“And I am terrified.”

If there was air in the room before it quickly evacuates, sucking Max’s ability to speak right out with it. He thinks of a week ago, the way the confession had fallen so easily from his lips while it looks like it is ripped from Charles now – carved  from his chest and placed before Max bloody and still beating with the truth of it.

He opens his mouth, he closes it.

Charles tries to wipe away the tears with the back of his shaking hand and it only spurs them into falling, trailing down his sunburned cheeks and dripping in splotches onto the fabric of his white shirt. Max watches them spread across the cotton.

“Charles.” He forces out around the lump in his throat, the only word he can manage because it is a name he would know even if all others left him. He speaks it like a prayer, like a promise, like there is nothing else.

Charles sobs, chokes, and then he’s stumbling forward as Max catches him with the ease of someone who would never let him fall.

‘This sport. It takes from you...It is like this.’ Charles had once whispered to him in the dim light of another hotel room in Japan. When Max had heard him muffling his sobs in the bathroom and knew not to press against a wound that was raw. He’d let him cry, let him pretend Max hadn’t heard, and held him that night until Charles fell asleep against him with his head tucked beneath Max’s chin.

When he woke the next morning, Charles was gone. They didn’t speak of it again.

“I’m here,” Max promises now, the same way he had whispered it into the dark of that hotel room, against the soft tufts of Charles' hair as he slept. “I’m right here.”

Max can feel Charles' fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt along his back, pressing deep enough he scratches along skin.

“I love you. And I’m right here.”

And he’s terrified too. Terrified of the way Charles makes him feel a way he’s never felt before. Max hates the feeling of unpredictability, hates that he’s come to frequently feel it with Charles. With racing, it is simple. He puts his helmet on, he drives, he takes corners that he’s practiced on the sim so many times that he can see them in his sleep. He knows how the car should feel beneath him, and he trusts his team to fix it when he tells them what is wrong. Charles is not a car. Charles cries easy, laughs easy, speaks easy, changes between moods with a frequency Max often cannot predict. He is the boy that would send Max into the barriers if pressed to, and the man who can dance along the track with him tire to tire until the end. He is perhaps the only person Max could know, truly know, down to the core of him, and the enigma who Max will never be able to solve.

He's fucking terrified of loving him. But he holds Charles anyway.

“You will leave,” Charles whispers against Max’s neck, muffled and so quiet Max knows Charles is hoping he does not hear.

Max hates to be told what he will do. He and Charles share the same stubborn drive to ignore whatever predestined path they were set on. Charles drives for Ferrari because he wants to. Max wins championships because he can. They aren’t doing it because the universe told them it was what they were meant to do, or because Max’s dad kept his hands taped to that steering wheel and pushed him into this. Charles could leave, he’s got a contract that is firmly under his own control, and Max could quit tomorrow simply because he got bored of it all. They could both fuck off to the middle of nowhere and sell ice cream from a hut simply because they had the money and means to do so. So maybe Max will leave, and maybe he won’t, and maybe he'll crash his car and maybe he’ll make it safely back to his and Charles’ bed. Who knows. He certainly doesn’t

“I might,” he says, in the same easy tone he tells GP that the car is handling like shit, feeling the way Charles freezes at the statement, “I might do a lot of things. But I will still love you in the end of it.”

He traces a finger along Charles' spine, from the notch in his neck to the dip of his back. Charles shudders, sniffles, buries himself closer to Max like he’s trying to mold them into one. He’s still crying, Max can feel the fresh tears warm against his carotid, spilling down to his collarbone and collecting at the hem of his shirt.

“Will you love me?” he asks, raw and honest, letting the ache of it fill his voice so Charles knows the truth of it, of him. Max does not ask for much, he’s learned to be content with what he has, but he’s asking now. Hoping in a way that is unfamiliar to him.

When Charles nods, it is like air returning to his lungs, like crossing the finish line and hearing GP’s voice tell him he’s won his third title. Victory, and euphoria, and the rush of adrenaline hitting him all in one fell swoop.

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes. I love you,” Charles pulls away from him so he can meet Max’s gaze. His eyes are red-rimmed, bloodshot to shit, there’s snot beneath his nose. Max thinks he’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. He lifts a hand to cup Charles’ cheek and the man leans into the touch, slots perfectly against his palm that splays along his jaw. He brushes a stray tear away with his thumb and Charles’ eyes flutter closed at the touch before blinking open to meet his once more - wide, and green, and so honest - so familiar.

Max leans forward to press their foreheads together, warm breath mingling between them.

“I am terrified, but I love you,” Charles whispers, “and I’m sorry for pushing you away. It hurts too much sometimes.”

“It hurts to not know what I did wrong,” Max counters, continuing to stroke his thumb along Charles’ cheekbone, to comfort the part of him that thought he might have been losing this.

“Sorry.”

“No- Charlie, no. Don’t be sorry, just- just trust me next time, okay? Or try. I’m not going anywhere right now. You have me.”

I’m yours, he wants to say, always yours. He thinks he maybe always has been, been chasing the boy with stubborn resilience and cutting resolve for his whole life. Instead he holds Charles until the tears stop falling and their breaths come easier and the world stops feeling like it’s falling out from beneath both of them.  

I love you, and it is fucking terrifying he thinks, but god is it worth it.

When Charles looks up at him, with the quirk of his lips, the tear tracks drying on his cheeks, and the vulnerability in his eyes Max knows he feels the same.

He’s been studying, after all.

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Even Better: part 1 (Angst) (18+)

TLR!Michelangelo x reader

Part 2

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A/N: Finally finished The Last Ronin the other day. Other than making me cry like a bitch, I have to admit it made me thirst for some TLR Mikey. Dude deserves a good smut written about him🖤 And to be honest, I had a hard time stopping once I first got started. This is my longest one yet, goodness😭😂

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You’re April’s daughter and Casey Marie’s twin sister. Most of your life you’ve been dreaming about the turtles of your mother’s youth, but nothing could have prepared you for the real deal.

Reader is at least 20. As far as I know, Mikey is in his 40’s.

Warnings: Spelling, age difference, masturbation (reader), caught in the act, oral - female receiving, dom Mikey and sub reader, dirty talk, unprotected sex, a little pain, size difference, size kink?

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Your mother had told you and your twin sister many stories about the turtles and their rat father over the years. How she and your father met each other because of them. How Splinter taught both his sons and your parents how to fight. How Leonardo fiercely protected his brothers, and as your mother put it, was seen as an absolute killjoy by his brothers. How Raphael matched your father in temper with an equally big and golden heart hiding within him. How Donatello could speed days locked up in his lab, and the many times he inspired your mom in her own lab. And how Michelangelo could light up a room with his loud jokes and bright smile. You and your sister would often point them out in the picture frames hanging around the lair, and beg your mom to tell more stories about them, no matter how mundane. The time your mom and Donnie made a tracking device in the lab, the time your father and Raph played hockey a whole night, or the time Mikey pranked Leo so hard that Splinter put him on cleaning duties for a whole month. You wanted to hear it all. Every single little detail.But that didn’t change the fact that they are all gone now. Your mother’s best friends and your father.

As you and Casey Marie got older, you continued to ask your mother for stories. But while Casey Marie wanted to hear about New York City before the Foot came to power, while you still asked for the turtles, getting more and more interested in the mundane part of their lives. Like whose room was it that you had made your room in? Who used to sit in the seat you sat in when eating dinner? And that mug you found in the storage, who did that belong to that? So many questions, and your mother could only give you so many answers.

Once you reached your teenage years, you started fantasizing about the four mutant turtles. Was that wrong? Their pictures literally hung on the walls of your underground home, so it wasn’t as if you could just ignore them. It probably didn’t help much that you didn’t like going outside, deciding to stay in the lair with your mother, while Casey Marie went out and explored. But that just gave you more time to help out your mother and learn more about the turtles.

As you gathered more and more information about the turtles, you started to form scenarios in your head, imagining how it would be to get together with the turtles. Which one of them would be the best friend, the best boyfriend, or even the best in bed. That proved to be a question you would contemplate for years, finding yourself staring at the pictures of the four turtles in the hallway in your early twenties, still with that little question in the back of your head. Although your thoughts about the turtles had calmed a bit once you had hit your twenties, you could not deny that they still lingered in the back of your head from time to time. So when your sister one day brought a passed out mutant turtle home, you did not know what to do with yourself. You were shocked, and maybe even a bit scared. He was way bigger than you had thought he would have been, but given his age it shouldn’t have come as a surprise.

Your mother knew who he was straight away. It was Mikey. The turtle whose room you had been occupying every since the day you and your sister grew too old for sharing the same bed with your mom. He was bruised and bleeding badly. Thank God for your mothers medical skills, otherwise Mikey’s fate would have been a dark one.

It took some time for Mikey to wake up, but when he did, he was much different than you had thought he would be. Your mother had spoken highly about his jokes and his warm happiness, but during dinner the day he woke up, you saw none of that. The only time you heard him speak the first day, was when you overheard a conversation between him and your mom in the kitchen. His voice was much deeper than you had anticipated, catching you off guard. And of course he heard you gasp and stopped talking, not speaking a word until you had gotten what you needed, and leaving the kitchen so they could continue their talk.

Three days had passed, and Mikey had still not spoken a word directly to you. He had thanked your sister for saving him while you were close by, but that was pretty much. There was this one time where he took up the whole hallway, staring at the exact picture of him and his brothers, you had found yourself staring at many times. When you asked if you could pass by, he did not say a word. He just looked at you out of the corner of his eye, before moving to the side, giving you more than enough space before you ran by.

Michelangelo was really nothing like you had expected him to be like. You had thought he would be nice, open and warm, talking your ear off like your mother had said he always did. But now he was silent, closed off and cold. He almost seemed angry. It scared you a little bit. Made you nervous whenever you were around him. Whenever you were sitting and talking with your mom or Casey Marie, you would lock up when he entered the room. But as much as he scared you, you also found him very interesting. You blamed your teenage fantasies for finding his form attractive. His toned muscles, covered in bruises, and the visible veins on his neck, arms and hands. The wrinkles on his face told of the things he had been through, and his eyes were always so distant, as if he was watching something no one else could see. But when his eyes suddenly snapped to you, catching you staring at him, you panicked, quickly avoiding your eyes, feeling your cheeks getting red. Luckily for you, Casey Marie came into the room, as loud as your mother had said your father was, telling Mikey about something, giving you the distraction you needed to run to your room. You stayed there the rest of the day, too embarrassed to come out.

That evening you laid on your bed, staring at the ceiling above you. You cursed yourself for choosing this room when you were little. Now you couldn’t fall asleep without thinking about Mikey’s eyes on you. Anywhere you looked, you were reminded by the fact that Mikey used to look at the same walls as you did. Heck, you were even sleeping in the bed he used to sleep in. As far as you knew, the blanket, pillow and sheets were also his. It did not matter how many times you had washed them over the years, because they now suddenly smelled strongly of him, not letting you rest for a moment.

You found yourself getting frustrated. None of the turtles had invaded your head so badly ever since you were a teenager, and now you could feel the same need and tension from back then build up between your legs. You pressed your naked thighs together under the blanket, feeling the wetness in your panties. You sighed out in frustration, as you once again remembered the old turtle’s eyes on you. As much as you had felt embarrassed under his eyes, you could not help feel aroused at the thought. He had caught you staring. Michelangelo had caught you with his strong gaze. And now here you were, laying in his old bed with your panties soaked just thinking about him.

Your fingers moved down your stomach, getting closer and closer to your core. It was okay to touch yourself with the older turtle in mind, right? You had done it before, so why would it be any different now? And with that thought you let your fingers slide into your panties, where you found your clit. With yet another sigh you started to rub your small bundle of nerves, letting your thoughts drift back to the muscular turtle. His broad shoulders, his big hands, his thick thighs. With his general size, you could only imagine what he could be packing in secret. You used both hands to slide your panties down, leaving them somewhere under the blanket, before pushing your legs out further, letting your fingers continue their movements around your clit.

A  knock on your door caused you to quickly pull your hand out from under the blanket. You sat up in the bed, staring towards the door as it opened. You were almost ready to sink to the ground when you saw who it was.

“Sorry”, Mikey said. “Were you sleeping?”

“Just about”, you answered, tugging the blanket closer around you.

“Sorry. I just wanted to see my room once again”, Mikey said, his eyes falling towards the foot of his old bed. “May I?”

You nodded, watching him as he walked into the room, closing the door behind him. He stood for a moment, staring into nothingness, before his eyes moved to his surroundings. It was almost just the way he remembered it. You had only moved a few things, but other than that, it looked like his old bedroom. Same bed frame and all. He let out a small chuckle, remembering all the memories he had between these four walls. The chuckle was light, lighter than sounds you ever had heard from him. That surprised you, and Mikey noticed, though he decided not to say anything about it, acting as if he forgot you even were in the room. Acting as if he couldn’t smell the heavy odor in the air. Truth be told, he did not notice the odor when he first came to the room, nor did he notice it when he walked into the room. It wasn’t until he stood a few feet from the bed that he really noticed it. But with his back turned to you, he did not dare to move or look in your direction. It was the same smell he had noticed when he caught you staring at him earlier that day. It was a scent that seemed to follow you, at least whenever he was around. Yet it wasn’t until now he realized what that scent could be signifying.

You watched as Mikey moved around the room, feeling your legs shake under the blanket. As horrified as you were, you could not deny the excitement. Knowing that lower half of your body was naked under the blanket, with the old mutant just a few feet away from you. You clenched your teeth as you rubbed your thighs together, your eyes lingering on the way his overalls clung around his thick veiny thighs. You had to keep your breathing calm as you the movement in his muscles, and the way his big hands smoothed over an antiche on one of the shelfs. Slowly, making sure his back was still turned to you, his focus on everything else except you on the bed, you let your hand move back under the blanket, once again finding your now dripping core. You suppressed every sound as you slowly started to circle your clit again, your eyes focusing on his hands. The size, the veins, the roughness. You could only imagine how they would feel against you. His rough skin against yours.

“You’re young”, Mikey rumbled, his back still turned to you. You froze, your heart pounding. Yet you managed to remove your hand before he spoke once more. “But you’re not stupid. You know I know what you were doing. I can smell it”. He turned his body towards you, taking small slow steps towards the bed, his voice deep and echoing against the brick walls of his old room. Once again, terrifying yet strangely arousing. It was at that moment that Mikey decided to let go. For the past 20 years he had traveled alone. He was tired. He felt lonely. And with this sweet scent in the air, begging him to come closer, he had to surrender. Even though you were one of his best friend’s daughters, he could not deny your beauty or how your hormones in the air drew him to you. “I could smell it when you were staring at me, and I can smell it now as I’m telling you”. He was now so close to the bed, that his knees were hitting the mattress at the end of the bed. In a slow move, he was standing with both of his knees planted firmly against the bed under him, towering over you. You were too stunned to speak, your mouth dry as you tried to swallow. But damn it, it didn’t change the fact that your heart was beating fast and your nipples were hard under your shirt. “But one thing I can’t smell…”, the mutant continued. “... Is if you still have your underwear on under the blanket”. He took a hold of the fabric of the blanket, pulling slightly at it, making it move down your body, stopping right over your hip. You whimpered slightly. You knew you found Mikey attractive, but this was almost ridiculous. He hadn’t even done anything, and you were already out of breath. “What will I find, (Y/N)?”

“Off”, you choked out. “They’re off”.

“Good girl”, Mikey hummed, pulling further on the blanket. It tickled as the blanket slowly moved off your skin, causing you to curl your legs up against you. With the blanket in his big hands, Mikey’s stare burned into your dripping core, just behind your closed legs. He could almost feel the heat from his towering position, watching the glistening of your folds in the dim light, your sweet scent taking a hold of his senses. Mikey suddenly felt hungry. Hungry in a way he had never felt before.

The churr that erupted from his chest almost made you jump in surprise. It was deep, deeper than you had ever dreamed it would be.

Silently he let go of the blanket to grab a hold of your ankle, his big hands easily opening you up for him. Not that you tried to fight him. No, not at all. All you could do was watch him and his hungry eyes as he crawled further onto the bed, making you gasp at every touch of him against your skin, and marvel at the sheer size of his hands on your ankles. Mikey used his rough hands to keep your legs open for him, letting him move closer to your core. Your breath hitched when you felt his breath against your knee, just before the inside of your thigh. You let out the slightest moan as Mikey’s eyes locked with yours, just as his lips meet your thigh, just above your knee. His hands slipped under your knees, sliding up the outside of your thighs, bringing your legs over his shoulder and onto his shell, before curling around them, his big strong arms holding you open, revealing your aching core even further.

“I’ve always dreamed of having a woman in my bed”, Mikey murmured against your thigh, his lips slowly making their way upwards, letting his tongue lick and his teeth nibble on the way. “Though I always thought that it would happen while I was a teenager, but life has its ways to surprise us”.

“Me too”, you breathed out, making Mikey look questionable at you, his lips still working their way closer to your core. “I used to dream about you when I was a teenager”.

Mikey let out a chuckle. It was almost a laugh. Your heart almost stopped at the sound. You had never thought that you would get to hear the mutant laugh. A chuckle? Sure. A laugh? Never.

“Is that so?”, Mikey smiled against your soft skin, feeling himself getting more daring. He could literally smell and see how his words affected you. The way you bite your lips with your pupils blown wide, and how your beautiful center started to cling around empty air. The thought of how you would cling around him, brought him dangerously close to dropping, making his churr sound as he spoke. “On my bed while I was gone? You’re a better girl than I thought, waiting patiently for me to come home”.

You sighed at his praise, feeling your heart flutter in your chest. This was already better than anything you could have made up in your mind. “Mikey”, you sighed, grabbing onto the sheet under you, breathing heavily at the close proximity of his lips to your flower.

“Is this how you’ve dreamed of me?”, he asked, before his tongue drew a line, all the way from the bottom of your core to the top, flicking your clit on the way.

“Mikey!”, you gasped in pleasure, your hands flying onto the arms around your legs.

“Not so loud, (Y/N)”, Mikey whispered against your mount. “We can’t let them hear us”.

You nodded, bringing an already shaking hand up to your mouth, before Mikey let his large tongue flick your clit once more, enjoying the feeling of how your thighs tensed in his grip. It was soon followed by another flick and yet another. It didn’t take long before you grabbed a hold of the front of your shirt, biting down on that instead of just covering your mouth with your bare hand. Mikey saw how that made your shirt rise further up, letting out a deep churr like moan against your clit. The vibration of one of your heels kicked against his shell, while a head flew to his bald head. Your head rolled back as Mikey started to suck on your clit, making your shirt rise even further. One of Mikey’s hands moved from your legs and up your side, until his hand was right on your breast. Your shirt rose over his two big knuckles, exposing your chest. You groaned against your shirt in satisfaction as Mikey’s gigantic hand started palming your breast, while his tongue and lips continued their work on your clit. Mikey hummed against your clit, finding the taste of your juices and sounds sweeter than honey. He wanted more.

With the hand of the thigh that Mikey’s arm was still wrapped around, he replaced his lips and tongue with his thumb on your clit, letting his tongue sneak down to your entrance. He growled at the sight of you squirming against him, his thumb rubbing circles on your bundles of nerves, while his tongue started exploring your insides. Your eyes fell shut as you threw your head to the side, your hips buckling against his face, and your small hand grabbing on to the one that was still groping your breast. You were close. Fuck, you were close. Your free leg over Mikey’s shoulder started to move frantically as you got closer, the other shaking against Mikey’s grip. He took in the sight of you. You red flushed face, your now messy hair, and the way your breast shook ever so slightly at each sudden move. Mikey started to grind himself against the mattress under him, getting himself closer to his drop, his tongue doing curled motions inside your warm walls, all while his thumb still assaulted your clit. That was when you started to grab onto him frantically. You were close, so fucking close for him. Mikey growled against you. He was going to get you there.

And then it happened. Your legs clamped around Mikey’s head as you came with a muffled scream that sounded like his name, and your legs spazzing over his shoulder. Mikey quickly retracted his hand from your chest, forcing your legs open with both his hands, licking up every last bit of your orgasm, every breath from him sounding like a groan. You puffed and panted, your hands forming fists around the sheets as Mikey rode out your high, until your legs finally started to relax under his hands.

Mikey sat up and started to undo his overalls. His moves were almost frantic as he undid his belt, followed by his straps, all while you laid there and watched him, still recovering from the earth shaking orgasm he had brought you, your now soaked shirt clinging to your collarbone. You once again started rubbing your thighs together, the sight of the undressing turtle making your heart pound.

“You like this, don’t you, (Y/N)?”, he growled with a smug smile, as he started to push the overalls down his body and down his muscular thighs. “Just like you used to dream of, huh?”

“Almost”, you smiled back, feeling yourself getting more mischievous, letting a hand slide down to your now overly sensitive clit. “It’s even better”.

The terrapin growled at the sight, shoving the rest of his clothes onto the floor, revealing himself before you in all of his naked glory. You marveled at the full sight of his toned body, feeling your body shiver with need once more. Mikey huffed before he grabbed a hold of your wrist, moving your fingers to his mouth, so he could suck off what little slick you had picked up on them. That alone caused you to let out a choked moan.

“No more self pleasure”, he said, before throwing your hand to the mattress, his hands finding the hem of your shirt. “Take this off and I’ll show you what’s even better”.

Whatever sound you made, it was enough to make Mikey chuckle as he watched you sit up to take off your shirt, leaving you fully naked in front of him. Once your shirt hit the floor he slowly crawled over you, his deep eyes watching you like a predator hunting a prey. Instictly you leaned backwards, slowly letting your back fall against the mattress, until Mikey had you lying fully onto the bed, with him positioned between your legs. You felt his breath across your face, his beak so close that you instinctively closed your eyes, your lips searching for his. His lips were rough yet soft, and moved against yours with ease. The kiss started out sweet, as if he hadn’t just fucked you dirty with his tongue. Your arms moved around his thick neck, your fingers tracing shapes on the back of his head, your legs curling around his thick thighs. Mikey’s hands moved to hold your close by the shoulders. It wasn’t until a soft moan escaped your lips that his large tongue dared to ask for entrance. And once entrance was granted, this got heated once again. Mikey started to grind his cloaca against your soaked flower, his lips swallowing every sound that came from your pretty mouth.

“Mikey”, you moaned against his lips, buckling your hips against him. “Please, Mikey. I want it”.

Mikey pulled from your lips and placed a sweet kiss on your cheek, before his eyes caught yours. “Tell me if it hurts”, he whispered, a sudden softness in his voice. In the short time you had known him, you had never heard Mikey be soft. “Tell me and I’ll stop”.

“I will”, you nodded, feeling a soft kiss against your lips, before his kisses started to move down your neck just by your ear. One of his hands moved between the two of you to his cloaca, where he pulled himself out with ease, before he slowly started dragging his head up and down your folds before he found your entrance. With even more kisses down your neck, he slowly pushed into your tight hole, groaning against your skin. You had to bite down onto his shoulder in order not to scream. He was so much bigger than you had thought he would be, stretching you out to the point where it was hard to tell the difference between pleasure and pain.

“You’re doing so great, (Y/N)”, Mikey groaned against your ear, almost making your eyes roll back just by the sound. Your arms hugged tighter unto him as he moved further in, making him groan by how tight your walls were hugging him. “Fuck”. You whimpered against him, adjusting to his size. Mikey brought a hand to your face, pulling back slightly so he could look at you. “So good. You’re doing so good, (Y/N)”, he said before placing a tender kiss on your lips.

“Please, Mikey”, you whimpered, nudging him with your leg. “Please move”.

Mikey answered you with another kiss, before letting his head drop back down to your ear. He ever so slowly started to pull out of you, before slowly pushing back in. You quickly hide your face against his broad shoulder once more, whimpering at the small wave of pleasure. Mikey listened closely to your muffled sounds at his slow speed, trying to find any signs of pain. But once he found none he slowly started speeding up.

“Shit”, he moaned against your ear, his thrust becoming harder. “You feel so good, (Y/N)”. Your hands clawed onto his shell, your sounds muffled by his rough skin against your mouth.

Mikey’s legs moved further apart, making it easier for him to move against you. With the bed starting to creak lightly under you, you prayed that neither your mother or sister would hear anything. Neither the way you whimpered against the mutant turtle, or the way he cursed and groaned against your ear, telling you how good you were. Michelangelo fucking you raw on his old childhood bed was not something they needed to know. But you would be lying if you said you hadn’t dreamed of this moment, ever since he was brought back down to the lair. And now you were enjoying the full force of his God-like thighs.

Mikey placed a hand over your mouth and pulled back, looking down at you with hungry yet mischievous eyes. “Is this what you’ve dreamed of?”, he asked, his hips continuing to drive into you, setting a new speed. “To be fucked like this but and old mutant?” You nodded frantically, wanting to scream against his hand. A bright smug smile grew on his lips, bringing a boyish charm you had never seen on him before. He almost looked 20 years younger. “You’re such a good girl, (Y/N). Tell me, who is fucking you this good?”

“You, Mikey!”, you whimpered against his hand, your head spinning at the second high that was starting to build in your lower region.

“You’re getting close, ain’t you, (Y/N)?” His hand moved from your mouth to your throat, making you fight to stay quiet. Your heart beating faster and faster as you got closer and closer to your second orgasm. “Who are you coming for, (Y/N)?”

And with that your second orgasm that night hit you like a brick wall. Your body spazzing and your head spinning, you let out a loud soar moan. “Mikey!” The said mutant roughly pulled you in for another hungry kiss, swallowing every sound as you came hard around him. His speed continued high, the bed creaking while he rode out your high. His thrusts started to become erratic against your still shaking body, before he too came, groaning your name out loud.

Mikey stayed upon you, as the both of you caught your breath. With one last kiss, he slowly pulled out of you, leaving the two of you with small noises of complaint by the lack of each other. He laid back on his shell, staring up at his old ceiling while catching his breath. He instinctively pulled you close with his big arm, letting you rest your head upon his shoulder. He knew he should leave. You had both been noisier than he had wished to be, and he feared what April would say if she found him cuddling with her freshly fucked daughter in his arms. But Mikey could not deny how nice it was to be laying there with you in his old room. Who would have thought that his teenage dream of having sex in his room actually would come true.

“So”, you smiled from his side. “Was this just like your dream of having a woman in your room?”

Mikey chuckled, pulling you even closer. “It was even better”.

[areislol]

this goes towards my current wip with al haitham so

child al haitham x child reader // cute moments :)

some moments on angst (mentions of his parents seperating, this is just a hc of mine for some angst don't bash me pls) not proofread. short

a/n: this was for funsies, honestly i just needed to write something cute and fluffy after writing an angsty wip, i can't write this all in my current wip hence, this!

when he was reading a book to you

when you were rolling on the ground trying to get his attenton as he read a book

when al haitham was trying his best to console you with awkward pats on the back after having tripped and cried

al haitham's mother making him hold your hand when crossing the street.

when you had a sleep over at his place and fell asleep on his bed, both of your tiny hands just barely touching each other

al haitham trying to stop you from touching a stray cat saying that it was "dirty and mommy said not to touch a cat outside, you can get hurt and even die!!" poor boy was scared for you

you laughing at him as he falls, when he cries and puts the blame on you, you both get time out and somehow you manage to run away, dragging al haitham with you as your mother chases you

building a sand castle with him, it's very sloppy looking but you were proud of it, and so was al haitham. so when a random child that was getting chased by their friends and run over your sandcastle he is furious, swearing to find them when his older and destory their sandcastle as pay back. and when he notices that you're sobbing uncontrollably? he might just even have a talk with them.

al haitham who helps you steal the cookie jar that was ONLY meant to be eaten after dinner, and when your grubby tiny hands reach for it and break it, he takes the blame.

al haitham who lets you put stickers and bows on his face as he reads a book, as long as you aren't in the way of course (he doesn't mind if you do or don't) and refuses to take them off when he needs to shower.

al haitham who is always there to help you get up when you trip and fall, even asking his mother to buy him a small hang bag so he can stuff bandaids in there.

al haitham gets really, seriously mad when someone picks on you for being "too loud" or "running around too much", he doesn't outright say anything but the glares...? even for a young child like him, whew.

he's always with you, before school, during school, after school and even during the holidays! (no wonder you're so close) and he doesn't mind, his mother is always tearing up as she watches her son watch you hold the crayon whole and scribble on a paper, and when you invite him to draw with you? ack! two cuties trying their best to draw each other.

(turns out to look like human blobs, one with grey hair with green streaks and one with [h/c]!! the eyes are disproportional but what can you expect from 5/6 year olds..)

al haitham who stays silent and listens as you yell at him out of anger when he accidentally loses a doll you gave him, he's clearly upset that you're mad at him but now he's mad at you, why are you yelling at him he did nothing wrong!!

this results in you ignoring him (it was a pain) and of course, al haitham hates it when you ignore him. so as usual, he asks his mother to give you a bag full of your favourite candies. you forgive him in less than a minute.

al haitham doesn't own much toys and likes books, any book. even if he can't read them he finds the pictures interesting. so he's more than elated when he sees that you got him new books on his birthday or even as a surprise gift!!

sometimes you lend him your toys so that you two could play together, you were taught to share of course. you often force him to play barbie dolls with you, not that he minds, it's just... does he really have to put on a girly voice for raquelle?

he swears that he won't ever play this game with you ever again after his friends caught him playing with you. (but secretly he continues to do so after making sure no one is around)

!!! playing family!!! you're always the mother who works hard by playing soccer and earning no money whatsoever while al haitham is the father who stays home and reads books. for some odd reason he feels this tingly feeling in his heart when he plays this game with you. what if one day when you're both older and live together with 5 exotic cats and wolves? what a dream.

al haitham who recieves a paper from his teacher that states "what is your dream?" for a class activity and immediately you pop up in his mind. his dream... is to make you happy. other than reading all the books in the world and making his mama and papa proud!

he gets upset when you aren't here with him for a day or more, say, you're on a holiday in another country or state, boy is he gonna be pestering and begging his mother to see you!! please, he needs to go there right now!!! (ever heard of face time?)

later in the years al haitham's always embarrassed when his mother brings that up, saying that it's "not true" but then completely freezes when his mother takes out her phone, saying "oh no worries, i have a video recording!!" and turns to face you, smiling. the way the colors drain from his face.

who is afraid to lose you after his mother came into his room and sat by the edge of his bed, her hand caressing his soft hair. "my dear boy," she would say softly, her gaze so soft and gentle.

"is it okay it mama comes in?" al haitham nods his head, how could he ever deny his mother's request?

"thank you baby, now, mama has something to say. don't be too scared now, okay?" al haitham nods, continung to lie down on his best tucked in nicely.

"people come and go, al, you will understand one day but... sigh, mommy and daddy have to tell you something."

ever since then he's sure to do whatever it takes to make you happy, he doesn't want you to leave him, ever. not like you would ever!!

[starniolosposts]

behind the fame (1)

part one, part two

pairing: chris sturniolo x reader

summary: you are starting to drown in your life, from your job to your trauma— and don’t see a way out. then chris sturniolo comes into your life.

warnings: abusive behavior, inappropriate behavior, manipulation, abuse of authority (none of this is from chris)

notes: this is my first story/first time posting on tumblr so be nice :) and hopefully you guys like it

your heartbeat echoes in your ears as well as the loud commands from the photographer. your body moves on autopilot, listening to the strict instructions from your manager and photographer behind the expensive camera flashing into your eyes.

you uncomfortably shift, face crinkling in embarrassment as everyone looked at your exposed body. you wanted to cover yourself with your arms, but knew you would get punished for it. you also wanted to decline the shoot for the lingerie brand in the first place, but your manager had forced you to agree to it.

"almost perfect pose! suck in your stomach a little more— yep! stay right there!"

you suck in your already (unhealthily) flat stomach and ignore the burning and aching pain of hunger shooting through you. you hadn't ate all day and don't remember the last time you had a full nutritional meal.

"alright, lunch break everyone! we'll have you try on one more set before being finished for the day. thank you for accepting this shoot, by the way. and sorry for being demanding, i was kind of taught to work that way." the man behind the camera smiles sheepishly, and you feel more at ease at his explanation.

you wave him off and finally relax your tense body. "ah, i get it. this industry needs strictness." you try and smile, but its strained.

your manager is silent as you make small conversation with the photographer, and you can't help but feel like its the calm before the storm. its always like that with him. it builds up so much until you were both alone and he releases all his pent up emotions.

your manager finally speaks up. "lets go to change into the next set, y/n." he says, then smiles at the photographer as you walk away to the changing rooms, his hand gripping onto your shoulder painfully.

you gulp at the silence as you open your changing room and close it behind the both of you. you remember to lock it like he taught you.

"did you eat before the set?" the question from him is random, but makes you nervous. you wonder if there is a right answer before deciding to be honest.

"no, i only drank water today." you whisper, now covering up your almost entirely exposed breasts with your arms. you don't miss the way his eyes dart across your body.

his dark eyes then glance down at your stomach and become narrowed. "it doesn't look like it. you have bloating in your lower stomach, its really visible."

it's humiliating and degrading, making your cheeks flush and small tears to fill your waterline. you make sure to keep them at bay so he doesn't notice. the last time he saw you cry didn't go well.

"uhm.. i'm sorry." you mutter, looking down at your stomach and frowning.

he sighs before patting your shoulder, keeping his hand there to massage it. you tensed and stayed frozen in your spot. "its alright, just remember to suck it in. and remember to not eat anything after 5pm tonight, and nothing tomorrow morning. we have another shoot at 7am."

you want to speak up for yourself. you want to say how absurd his demands are, but don't. you force the words down and instead obediently nod in agreement, making him grin. you'd rather sacrifice your own well being and make him happy than disagree with him and make him angry.

your managers name is cayden anderson. he was a couple years older than you, you are 21 and he is 26. you’ve known him since you were 16 though.

your mom had hired him after your modeling career had become a more serious thing. after that, you never really connected with either of your parents on a deeper level, so you didn’t feel like you could go to them for concerns or problems you had. you felt like you had to just do it yourself.

that mentality applies to your relationship with cayden. you just dealt with it yourself, and felt like you didn’t have anyone to turn to.

a knock on the door makes cayden step away from you, and to your relief, his cold hand leaves your shoulder as well. “yes?” he responds.

“shoot starts in 3 minutes.”

“she’ll be right out!”

cayden looks at you like your stupid. “well? get undressed, you have to wear the other lingerie set.”

you nod, but then pause, humiliation burning in your eyes as you look into his amused ones. “can you turn around?” you whisper.

he rolls his eyes before sighing and turning around. “its nothing i haven’t seen, but alright.”

your stomach churns from horrific memories popping up in your brain from his words. you shake your head and quickly get ready for the next shoot in silence.

first part of this story! be patient with me i don’t know how to really work tumblr yet lol, and yes i know we dont get chris yet but you will soon ;)

[lvrcpid]

the less i know the better.

this indicates a flashback. previous || next

the long walk back home was less than pleasant. all you could do was cry. cry and cry until you had no more tears left to give. jake wanted nothing more than to comfort you but he knew it would only make things worse. he tensed up at your cries, cringing slightly. god, he truly is the worst father in the world.

when you got back, you were quick to bolt to your corner, ignoring the gazes of your siblings and mother. you had nothing to say to them, just when life was starting to favor you, it was snatched right from under you. it wasn't fair. why do they all of a sudden care now? it took you dying for them to care about you? why didn't they want to see you happy?

jake and neytiri said nothing as they exchanged pitiful looks with each other, they were going to try and make things right. keyword try. they knew you hated them especially for this, and they understood why, they've been the world's worst parents.

tuktirey was smart for her age, and she knew something was wrong with you when you came back grim-faced. she was excited you were home, but you didn't look happy. of course, her being her, she crept by your side and laid down next to you, giving you a big hug, smushing her cheek against yours, giggling out a small 'i'm happy you're home..' you said nothing as you faintly hugged your little sister back but couldn't turn to face your family, it was too painful. you felt betrayed.

the next few days were grim and cloudy for you. each family member tried at least once to get you to smile but to no avail. you sat during breakfast with you head facing your lap. you didn't even touch your bow and arrow when jake took you all hunting. it's like you were a doll. a lifeless doll with no hint of glimmer and life in its eyes. neteyam and kiri pitied you. they were so glad you were home but knew you didn't come willingly.

lo’ak knew it too. of course like the rest of your family, he was happy you were home. but he had to admit, your mood was genuinely bringing him down as well. tsireya had stopped talking to the boy. mentioning something about not wanting to be together with ‘someone like him’ ouch. he tried his best along with your other siblings to cheer you up. he would go out and get you your favorite fruit. he knew you wouldn’t eat it but it didn’t hurt to try. he was taking this a bit different than the rest of the family. his patience was thin for you. you noticed this but you didn’t say anything, you just brushed it off as lo’ak being lo’ak. but underneath the hard, irritated exterior, was a young boy yearning for your familiar love. he missed you getting him out of trouble and making sure he got up on time.

‘(y/n) would you like to join us? we’re going to go swimming with tsireya and ao’nung?’ kiri said, bending down to your level. kiri had always been your favorite. she was soft spoken and kind, and you didn’t have to look after her much. you didn’t do much but shake your head and continue to weave the bracelet you were making.

in your silence you had taking a liking to beading. often you would sit and bead bracelets for hours. it’s all you really could do. you didn’t wanna talk or communicate with anyone. you hated it here. you couldn’t go back to the family that seemingly abandoned you. you really had nowhere else to run to.

neytiri had spent all of her time with you, attempting to right her wrongs. she taught you how to carve your own bow, and she even added new beads to your songcord for you. her small smile faltered as you set it down, walking away from it, leaving her in the cold and empty mauri. she sighed as she watched your figure leave the home and out of view.

you tried to avoid ao'nung and tsireya the best you could. for some reason, you felt embarrassed. the siblings tried their best to be there for you, but you wouldn't let them, walking away every time one of them tried to come close to you.

ronal and tonowari felt for you as well. the day you left she wept like she had lost her own. she would miss you, but she knew jake truly had the heart to make things right with you.

it was early in the morning when jake stopped by the family's hut, requesting to talk with ronal and tonowari together. the metkayina woman was hesitant, the rage she felt for jake sully almost bubbling over as she sat next to her mate.

'i would like to bring (y/n) home..please. and before you say no, please just hear me out' tonowari squinted as he ushed jake to continue, holding ronals hand tightly as he looked at her, giving her a look that said 'just let him talk' the metkayina woman nodded before looking back to jake. 'continue.'

' we miss them.. and i know theres no action or word that can undo the damage my family and i have bestowed upon this child' he turned to look at you on the shore. you resembled him so much. tears brimmed in his eyes as he looked back at the pair. 'neytiri cannot sleep at night...she is worried about her child..so please let me ease my wifes mind, even if its just a liitle bit..' he looked to ronal, a pleading look to his face. ' ronal..if it was ao'nung or even tsireya..would you want that pain?' ronal sighed, she wouldn't. she looked at the look in his eyes before nodding ' you may take them home.. but only if you make things right.'

night fell against awa'atlu, people buzzing around as it was dinner time. you were with your family a little far away but still a bit close, silent as usual. you were playing with your fingers when the orange of the fire was replaced by a dark shadow, you looked up and it was rotxo. 'oh hi' your voice was hoarse, that being the first time you'd spoken in days. ' i heard what happened, are you alright?' he sat down next to you, taking his four-fingered hand into your five-fingered hand lightly.

he'd always thought that was a cute feature. he thought everything about you was cute. the way you would scrunch your nose up when you were confused, the way you would always have to explain what 'eyebrows' were to him since he just couldn't seem to grasp the concept even when ao'nung teased him about it. he loved all of it about you. he didn't realize it but he was staring at you, hard. you snapped your fingers in front of his face before letting out a small giggle, the noise like music to his ears.

after dinner you stayed back with rotxo and helped clean up. your family was hesitant with leaving you alone, but they were shocked to hear you say that you were fine. and with that, they left.

soon enough you and rotxo were standing up by the fire. he thought you were the most beautiful person in the whole world at that moment. you were in the middle of a story when rotxo cut you off. '(y/n) you're..you're so special to me.' you were shocked and startled a tad, your face turning dark indigo.

you were silent, you didn't know what to say. with all that was going on you didn't have the time to process your feelings for the metkayina boy. the silence was broken with a sentence that would change your life forever.

'i see you (y/n)..'

tags 🏷️: @23victoria @avtprint @bucky1235 @boilingpots @Marcswife21 @elegantkidfansoul @itsyogurl @stars4deku @stvpidscvpid @uniltsatirey @urdeadpoet @annamarieisbae @graysonmalik2550 @blueberryfailureclinic @jordan-network @newjeansbonnie @stickyfictioninwriting @fanboyluvr @zatarias-pandora @jjkclub @elvyshiarieko @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @adaiasafira @scarletrosesposts @spicycloudsalad @vane28282 @nuttyrebelflower @aemondmyl0ve @msbimb0 @neteyamforlife @gamorxs @sharni07 @thegooberboy @theesexystallion @nanaitesully @destinylburns @fandom-garbage @dakotall @1ntefly @sicklscream @osumarusjade @rosemaryblossoms @malfoylaufeysonweasleybarnes @zatarias-pandora @mac-the-oregonian @dreamergirljen @laylasbunbunny @n39ro-chann @nikqdn @ayanies @muthamergya @historygeekqueen @jihyowl @justthingzsblog @yukichan67 @your-girl-mj @ok-boke @ecliipsedpoet @kthehoeforfictionalmen

[blue--ingenue]

Albus Anger Headcanons [Part 1]

Author's Note: Based on an ask from the lovely @luuhy-blue asking about Albus' anger. I wanted to explore how his anger evolved since first coming to Hogwarts. Most of these are based on Thomas Grant's portrayal of Al. This is going to be an ongoing series because I was editing and realized I have too much to cover in a single post. [Content Warnings: mentions of depression, anxiety]

it begins as betrayal. in the first scene we see Albus - anxious of the crowd gawking at his family, terrified at the prospect of being sorted into Slytherin - and his immediate instinct is to seek comfort from his dad. at this point in his life he trusts Harry wholeheartedly, only calming down once he tells Al he needn't be afraid

he's tender-hearted, funny, and sweet, but the relentless bullying encourages him to stuff away those parts of him to make himself a smaller target. we see some of his goofiness throughout the play - and only when he's with people he feels safe with:

lifting his broom above his head and laughing while saying "up" in a silly voice; he isn't too upset about being the only one whose broom doesn't cooperate, but once Polly and his classmates mock him instead of laughing along, he deflates. they tell him he's m like Harry, call him the 'Slytherin Squib,' and he retreats into himself. we don't see this lighthearted side of him for awhile

he trusts Scorpius with every fiber of his being. up in the Owlery he pretends to echo his voice, joking that using Bombarda to destroy the timeturner would wake everyone in the castle. Scorpius' smile at this rarely-seen side of Al is positively beaming

we see this one more time at the end of the play - when he talks with Harry at Cedric's grave. he's beginning to trust his father again and jokes about wanting to go into pigeon racing after graduation

focusing back on his first few years at Hogwarts, we see Harry belittle and ignore his pain. Hogwarts was Harry's sanctuary - the place that saved him from the Dursley's, offered escape from his abusive relatives, taught him magic, offered the only connection to his parents that he's ever known. it's the place where he grew up, met the love of his life, made lifelong friends, and discovered his own powers. his experience is so at odds with what Albus is telling him, that he refuses to reconcile the two versions he's being presented with. along with the fact that Harry's spent most of his life in "survival mode," he can't believe that his son's problems are as grave as he's making them out to be

jumping back to the Platform at the start of second year: i always get SO PISSED OFF when Albus looks to his dad for safety and understanding and Harry isn't even looking at him - he's signing his autograph on the stomach of that random Hufflepuff student. like, your son has been in clear distress for over a year. he's telling you exactly what's wrong. he's about to enter another year of relentless bullying, and you won't see him in-person until the Christmas holidays (months away) and you won't even look at him while he's pouring his heart out

he feels deeply betrayed. his father refuses to hear his pleas - and on the rare occasions that Harry listens, he refuses to understand. he tells Al that his feelings are temporary, that Albus is the one who should be trying harder to enjoy his school experience. he tells Albus to try making more friends - different friends - and compares Al's experience to his own. the very person he seeks out for love, safety, and understanding makes him feel like it's his own fault that he feels the way he does

i don't think that Harry intentionally makes Albus feel belittled, but regardless of his intention, the end result is that Albus is constantly anxious and depressed. he's living through his developmental years facing constant bullying, watching his best (and only) friend face similar torment, and it hurts

Harry refuses to believe him, Rose laughs at him, James (although his teasing is more lighthearted than the rest) adds fuel to the fire, and he feels betrayed. he has a massive family - between the Potters, Weasleys, and Delacours - and nobody but Ginny understands him. he's used to feeling ostracized and left out at school. and now, even when he's with the people he's meant to feel closest to, he still feels ostracized

[diiwata]

filipino!marcus hcs (tbosas) b/c i can... and the actor is 🇵🇭

i've been meaning to do this for a while since finding out his heritage (and when jerome practically confirmed it on his ig story by showing off the ph olympic team on his tv). i don't have many since it's a singular character, and if a filipino tbosas fan wants to elaborate on any of these hcs, please feel free to do so!

do note that the hcs get darker in the "catholicism" part, as it discusses his death.

for starters: his name is marcus batungbakal, which literally means "stone steel". it reflects the district 2 industry (masonry) and his heritage.

customs

he greets his parents by placing the back of their hand on his forehead. he doesn't know what it means, but knows it's respectful.

eats meats and vegetables with rice, which is a staple side dish in their household <3

marcus and his family also eat with their hands. to make meals more enjoyable, they roll the rice/meat mixture in their hands into little balls. he knows that there are people who think it's gross. he doesn't care.

i don't imagine him having a very big house, but a big family. generational household vibes. think of the family from home alone. that's an average filipino household right there.

he can sing... because i say so... i've seen too many instances of filipinos casually belting while doing drunk karaoke to not add this

utang na loob

he is taught "utang na loob", which translates to "debt of the self". being indebted to others bc of their kindness shown to you. people sometimes show kindness to him with the expectation that he'll do them a favor.

^^ this adds a layer of depth to why he actively ignores sejanus. idk what kindness he showed to sej (maybe the moment sejanus recalled, where marcus iced his hand without question), but marcus could've expected it to be reciprocated.

sejanus doesn't understand this, so it is, in fact, no reciprocated. him moving to the capitol doesn't help. association with the capitol and indulging in their privileges is anything but kindness to marcus. and playing a role in the games by being his mentor, on top of that?!?! sheesh

catholicism

his family owns rosaries and crosses. not too sure how much religion survived, but whether or not catholicism was still prominent during the time of tbosas, marcus and his family FEEL the significance of the man on the cross.

he carried a rosary in his pocket during the reaping and throughout the games for his protection.

as he remained on the beam, marcus felt like that mystery man on the cross.

he thought of his family. throughout that pain and strife, and before he felt the blade of lamina's ax, he hoped they would think of him whenever they held those ornate beads around their hands.

[jokingmisfit]

Not Yet Forgotten

Platonic Future Hamato Brothers x Neglected Reader

Warnings- Angst with Happy Ending, Reader is Casey Jr's Sibling, Neglectful Parental Figures, Severe Injuries, Mentions of Blood and Broken Bones, Near Death Experience, Hurt with Comfort, Head Injury, Mention of Reader having Mystic Powers

Notes- I may make a different version from 3rd person pov to show how bad the boys felt. I don't know anything about medicine so please forgive me for any incorrect everything. Wrote this right before therapy and I think it shows. Lol, Enjoy!

Your breathing was fast, but muffled through your hand. It felt like your lungs were on fire. You don't know how far you've run, but you hope that it's far enough.

Only an hour earlier, Krang dogs surrounded you and your crew. The rest were already dead... You were frightened and angry. You knew that if only they'd taught you how to fight as well as they had Casey, then you wouldn't be in this situation. They didn't care for you. Your brother being far too important, apparently, for you to be cared for at all. 

Made sense in your mind. You didn't look like your mother like Casey did. Didn't share a name or even blood. Just another "stray" she'd picked up, but she loved you. In her own way. Too bad when she died the knowledge she left you with was all you'd be given. No sessions with Leonardo. No kind words from Michelangelo or Raphael. No scolding on health or knowledge from Donatello. It was like you were invisible. Unimportant. 

You and your team had done so much. Achieved amazing things, but every achievement was overlooked. Every injury was ignored. Perhaps you did learn a few things... Fending for yourself. That didn't help now, though.

Climbing the rubble. You could feel the parts of your body move in ways they weren't made for. You were strong but how strong would you have to be to defy death itself. You had sent out the SOS so long ago, yet it seems as if nobody will come.

Your blood stained broken concrete rocks. You prayed to whatever higher being was above that, just this once, they wouldn't overlook you. That the people who were supposed to care the most would save you.

You finally collapsed at the top of the heap. Only small peaks of the red sky could be seen. You were safe, for now, but you were bloodied and broken. Your stash of medical supplies were carried by a dead man. You wouldn't last, not long, at least.

You hit the alert again seeing as the purple light went out. Hitting the button over and over as your breath thinned. It felt harder to breathe with every second. 

An alert came back to you. A communication. You heard April once say it was like a phone call. Whatever that was. You pressed the button to hear the voice on the other end. It was Donatellos.

"Are you there? Can you hear me?" His voice was wavering. Something you'd never heard before.

With a raspy tone you whispered out your response. "You got... got te loc-location right?"

He sighed on the other end. "Yes we have it. A rescue team has already found the rest. Where are you hurt?"

"Hehe." Your laugh is cut off by coughing. Blood bubbling up in your lungs and throat. Looking at the gashes and stuck out bones, you answer. "Every- Everywhere..."

Silence met you on the other end. Silence and the clicking of the keyboard.

A deep breath, and you talk again. "I know... I- I know you all... Probably don't- don't care... but I don't wanna die... I don wanna die." A sob escapes your mouth, cutting off your sentence.

The pain and fear causing tears to cascade down your face.

The clicking stopped at your words.

Donatello responds after a few seconds. "They're almost there... I- You need to stay awake and you'll be fine. We- I won't let you die."

"I'm- I'm so sorry..." Your breath stops in your chest. "I shoulda- should of done better... I try- tried so hard... Was never good enough. I can't- can't breathe." Your words are heavy and painful as you sob them out.

"HELLO!" You heard Leonardo yell.

Before you had a chance to answer a light came from your gear. The communication line ending and sends an alert to the other mutant.

Footsteps could be heard from multiple beings. Talking and panic is heard as you stare at the broken roof with blurry eyes.

Raphael's face coming into view before anything else. If you weren't in so much pain you'd smile at him. Instead you stare as he picks you up gently. His words sound soft but melt in your head making them unknown. He holds you close and moves quickly. 

A whisper escapes you. "you came..." The statement soft and broken from your lips. The only evidence he heard you being the tilt of his head as he stares with worried eyes.

You held on tightly to your consciences. You held on for however long it took to be laid on a table. Long enough to have something put over your face. Long enough to feel a hand pet your head slightly as your eyes finally close.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It hurt. Everything hurt. Your eyes flutter open, but they're unfocused.

"They're awake!" You heard someone yell.

You flinch at the noise. A whine escaping the back of your throat from the pain.

"Be quiet. They're not going to react well to loud noises." You heard another voice scolds matter-of-factly.

You huff out heavy breaths. You try sitting up only for a large hand to, gently, hold you down. You blink several times to try and see better. Figures, shapes, and colors bounced around but nothing appeared sensical. 

"How are they?" A voice says nervously and stern at the same time. Their footsteps stop towards you.

The hands that were moving on and around you pause for a moment before an answer. "They're discombobulated."

"What the hell? English, Donnie." The voice answers.

Your voice is scratchy and comes out in squeaks. "Don- Donnie?"

Your question goes unanswered, but you were glad you finally knew who one of the voices belonged to. You were with Donatello.

"They had a head injury, so their brains jumbled. They can't see straight... At least we can be sure that they can hear fine." He answers with distaste.

A hand sets itself on your head and plays with your hair. The voice above you talks nervously. "So shouldn't we be talking to them? They're probably so scared right now. Aren't you?"

You realize that the end was directed at you, but you lost the energy to answer. You tried to speak, but nothing came out, as if your body didn't agree with your mind."

"Mikey’s right," The deep voice spoke. "We need to comfort them right now."

You wanted to tell them not to force themselves. That you knew they were only here because you were hurt. That once you were better they'd go back to the way it was before. But you couldn't speak, and the feeling of actually being cared for felt so nice.

The weight in your chest may have been painful, but it felt so good to be loved. If your head wasn't so fuzzy you might have cried.

Your name was called, almost urgently. You hadn't realized you weren't listening. So caught up in your own head that you forgot to listen.

You looked slightly to the person calling out to you.

"You still in there, kid? Lost ya there for a second huh?" You could hear the smile in his voice.

That was Leonardo right. He's the one to smile when things are bad. That means the deep voice was Raphael... All four of them were there for you.

You wanted to cry and laugh at the same time. Maybe you were imagining things?

"You need to relax. Your heart rate is spiking..." Donatello tells you strictly.

Raphael's voice picked up from the foot of your bed. "Don, I don't think they can necessarily control that... Y'know?"

"Sigh," Donatello answers him. "I'll fix it myself."

You felt the bed adjust, setting you up slightly. You felt his hand on your arm fiddle with something sticking out of it.

You felt calmer, almost, instantly. Surprisingly, your vision cleared slightly. Things still blurred but you could make out their faces so much more.

A crowd of turtles that left no space to see what room you were in. The lights still felt too bright, yet they were dimmer than any room you’ve been to. The blue lights gave you more of a clue. The screens lights bouncing and reflecting off the men. Was this Donatello’s lab? It had to be.

With your eyes now clearer you were able to hold them onto the figures separately. Their blurred faces held concern, fear… It was definitely a sight.

“You feelin’ better?” Raphael asked sweetly. He loomed over the edge of the bed, yet still he managed to keep a distance.

Despite the medicine making you feel better your head and chest still layed heavy on the bed. The only response you could manage was a broken noise from the back of your throat.

Leonardo laughs sadly. “Y’know maybe we shouldn’t ask them too many questions, heh.”

If you could shake your head in agreement you would. The other three certainly did, or at least it looked like they did. 

You took a deep breath in and out letting everything sink into your skin, into your bones. You had your own list of questions you wanted to ask them. Like, how bad is the damage? Why are all four of you here, there’s more important things to do? Did any of the others live?

You could feel all four eyes on you. Feel them stare like you were the only thing worth looking at. It confused you, so you turned your eyes to the only one who you knew had all the answers, Donatello. 

“Right, well I suppose you want answers. Yes?” He asked, oddly nervous. “Where to start,” he whispered to his screen before sighing. “You have a major concussion, obviously, you have two broken ribs, a broken leg, a sprain in your right arm, you have large lacerations on your abdomen, and you had punctured one of your lungs.” He lists off easily. “All of which have been cared for, however you will be immobile for quite a while. I estimate approximately 12 weeks and 3 days. Do you understand?” He asks you calmly.

You huffed at him, hoping he would understand that you were listening. He seemed satisfied with your response and went back to typing on the screen. Of course you were slightly confused by this as you hoped he’d elaborate on why they were all there.

Clearly noticing your confusion Raphael talks with guilt. “I think they’re confused on why we’re here…”

He says it like he can read your mind. 

“Why would they be confused about that?” Michelangelo laughs out shakily.

“Probably, because we’ve neglected them for years.” Donatello answers within seconds.

Leonardo being the next to speak, like they were taking turns. “We really fucked up that bad, huh kid?”

You couldn’t hold his gaze. The guilt was so evident on his face. You’d never imagined they’d realize what they’ve done. You pictured you’d grow into an adult and leave the Resistance without anyone knowing you were gone.

“Listen, I know- We know we should’ve done better for you…” Leonardo sighs. “You are just as important as everyone else. As the Resistance. As Casey Jr. I was always so caught up with him and being a leader I forgot that I had to be there for you. You always seem to have a hold on everything. Always seemed so sure. So confident… I never thought you might need help to. It was such a terrible mistake and I should have known better, should’ve been more and done more for you,” He leans over and grabs your hand gently. “I promise to never act like that again. I will never let anything hurt you like this. I will never leave you alone again. I swear on my life kid I will do anything, everything to make this up to you.” Tears from his eyes fell onto your clasped hands.

You couldn’t hide the shock from your eyes as you were crying too. It was like your body finally jump started and tears fell so freely.

“You were always so strong,” Raphael starts. “I don’t think any of us thought that our lack of attention would hurt you so much. You always shined so brightly on your own.” He chuckled sadly. “I never thought you’d need us so much, Jr’s strong too, but he relied on your mom more than you so when she died we- I thought you could handle yourself. You’d never seemed to waver. I’m so sorry.” 

The regret he held in his words weighed heavy on your mind causing more tears to fall from your eyes.

“My turn already?” Michelangelo laughed, tears in his own eyes. “Heh, I remember this one time I was talking to one of your group members, she seemed so excited to join your team. I remember I asked her what she was so excited for… It was you. She told me that she had seen you and your team fight. Saw how well you worked together, but she was mesmerized by you. She told me years ago she idolized me for my mystic abilities,” He laughs quietly. “But she admitted in this conversation that she idolized you even more. Because you were more like her than I was and your mystic abilities were so strong…” He pauses with a sad silence. “A part of that conversation fortified in my mind that you didn’t need anyone. You were able to figure everything out all on your own. Lead your own team. Fight and save lives like a pro. I should have taken into perspective your feelings. I used to be so good at feelings, but it seems I’ve lost my way a little bit. But I promise not anymore. You’re never going to feel left out again. I guarantee it!” He ends off happily

Silence fills the room. The only thing truly heard was the buzz of machines and various sniffles.

The silence was cut off again by Raphael. “Donnie… Are you going to say anything?” He asked both encouragingly and authoritatively.

“Sigh.” Donatello stated tiredly. He turned to face you more. “I’m not good with emotions. They were never something I could grasp fully. I’ve worked hard on fixing that, but I see in some areas I have… failed. I personally assumed if you needed help you would come to me, however looking back it’s clear you had and I pushed you away.” He states uncomfortably. “As an adult I should have been more prepared and I wasn’t… You were just a child, you are a child, and you’ve experienced so much on your own. I can assure that we plan on remedying that.” He ends sincerely.

After listening carefully to all their words your heart swelled with happiness. You were still afraid that they may not be true, but you were hopeful and so glad to finally be seen. The love you felt radiate off them in blissful waves made you smile. You forgave them as soon as their words left their mouths. As soon as they told you they cared. There was nothing better than feeling true love for what felt like the first time. You couldn’t help but be happy.

“Get some sleep, Kid,” Leonardo says. “We’ll be here when you wake up.”

[elilelibeli]

When Remus and Sirius decided to adopt a kid, Sirius was excited. He imagined taking walks with his Remus and their kid, imagined baking with them, reading, playing music. It was a beautiful thought and dad Remus looked very good in it. But when he realized he would have to be left alone with a child, would have to deal with serious conversations, nights alone with the kid, making decisions he freaked out a little. Okay he freaked out a lot, but he didn’t tell Remus because he was really excited and didn’t want to give his husband doubts. So he tried to ignore the feeling. But it became a bit impossible while Regulus pointed out a ridiculous baby leather jacket while shopping for Luna.

Sirius wasn’t about to have a mental breakdown between the baby clothes and women’s underwear section in the shops, so he ran outside the store to get some much needed air.

“A bit dramatic for a leather jacket isn’t it? I know it’s not vintage and cool enough for your standards but it’s for a baby Sirius.” Regulus tried to joke as he was looking at his panting brother, worried.

Ignoring his brother’s poor attempt of a joke, Sirius sat down on the curb of a parking lot pavement. Quiet curse words left his lips as he tried to even out his breathing.

“Sirius what’s going on?” Regulus’s worry grew as he set next to his older brother.

“I will fuck up this child, this kid will trust me and I will break their heart, I can’t do that to our kid Reggie.” murmured Sirius with his head down.

“Whoa what are you talking about? Where is this coming from?”

“Well Regulus it’s coming from the fact that we come from the most fucked up family of all Europe.“ Sirius’s tone changed from devastated to annoyed. “Ah it was so stupid of me to think this was a good idea. People I am meant to take a parenting example from are, well I should not take example of anything from them. And I had this thought of my child coming to me crying and what if I just wouldn’t know how to comfort my own kid, what if It’s not natural for me? You know what I did the first time Effie hugged me Reggie? I cried in my room afterwards because that was the first time I had ever felt safe in the hands of an adult. My hands are same hands of my mother, what if my child can’t hug me because they feel unsafe with me?” Sirius was not breathing between sentences, staring at his brother with eyes filled with pain and fear.

“Stop it! Your hands are not mother’s hands. Your hands are hands that hugged me after I fell from the tree. Your hands were the ones soothing me as a kid, they were the ones giving me sweets, holding me and pulling me to dance and run. Hands that I felt brave and good in. Your hands made the best high chair in the world for my Harry the other day. These are not the hands your child will be uncomfortable being in Sirius”

“How did you.. how were you not freaked out by this? You grew up with them. You know what they are capable of, how could you be sure that you would do it when you didn’t even know what it really meant to be?” asked Sirius while staring at his brother, searching for answers with his eyes.

“Well I knew what it was supposed to look like. Yes maman et papa had nothing to do with that but I always had you. did I freak out at first? of course! And then James told me something that made it all look possible, he said that the main thing was to have love, do everything with love, make every step or decision with love and for the sake of love for the kid and it would be okay. “Yes we are going to make mistakes and wrong decisions, love, but if we treat our child with love and respect those mistakes will not be the end of the world” he said. And I realized he was correct. You practically raised me Sirius and you were a child yourself. I knew love and respect from you, I saw care and safety and while I will never know that from my parents I knew I had it in me cause you had it in you even back then. You had it and you taught me. “ Regulus answered, his voice full of sincerity.

Sirius’s eyes were glistening from tears. He opened his mouth to say something, but instead he hugged his brother tightly. “Your James voice is terrible, Reggie” he said smiling in his brothers shoulder.

“Wanker.” replied Reggie lightly hitting Sirius’s head. “Talk to Remus Sirius, trust me it will make you feel better”

“Oh daddy Remus will be so hot” Sirius wiggled his eyebrows while sniffing.

“Gross, Sirius, gross” replied Reggie, standing up from the pavement and picking up a bag with a baby leather jacket for his stupid brother’s future kid in it.

[elisysd]

12. Don't give me up, cause what about, what about angels

Masterlist - Previously - Next

Chapter soundtrack: What About Angels - Birdy

Charles saw you tensing after your mother’s cold greeting. He hated how you flinched as she was reminding you that being late was disrespectful towards your dad’s special day, that being away from home and in a big city had made you lose sight of the values they had taught you. But he hated even more how you simply smiled and apologized. He needed all his self control to not take your side, he knew how anxious this whole situation was making you feel, he didn’t want to make it worse by saying something he knew wouldn’t be well received.

The first thing he noticed in the house’s hall was the amount of family pictures, but instead of four people on them were only three. He recognised your mom, assumed the man beside her was your dad and when he thought he would notice you, it was instead your little brother. He couldn't be wrong, he looked exactly like you. The pictures were cut in a certain way that didn’t take him a long time to understand that you had been cut out of them. He felt a wave of rage hitting him. Why make you come here if your parents had gone to such an extent as to erase every trace of your existence? It was a twisted joke.

“You don’t even call anymore, Y/N. I knew it would happen, I’ve always said that being in a world full of sparks and empty promises would change you. You’re too gullible. You don’t even have time for your own family anymore. Not that you ever had.”

“You’ve never tried to ask questions about my job…” you mumbled as Charles put a comforting hand on your hip.

“I don’t need to. I know exactly what you do, you’re the talk of the town. The small town girl made it to the TV. There is no reason to be proud, playing a pretty face on tv… that is not what I raised you to be. And now you’re associating yourself with fair-weather friends…” she said, darting judgmental eyes on Charles. “I know exactly who you are.”

He didn’t have the time to reply as your dad entered the room and sat on the chair without a word. You sat too, Charles close to you as your mom joined your dad’s side. 

“How nice it is to finally see you alive.” he said, making you gulp.

“I’m Charles, your daughter’s boyfriend. Nice to meet you.” he introduced himself in a desperate attempt to drive the conversation away from you and the relieved sigh you let out made him think that you appreciated it. 

Lunch was awkward, punctuated with snarky comments here and there that you tried your best to ignore. Charles was trying to do the same but it was getting harder and harder for him to keep his calm. But it was when cake was brought that resentment and unspoken words finally came out in the open. You had taken your phone out of your pocket, wanting to show your parents all the beautiful landscapes you had the chance to witness. 

“Aren’t you ashamed?” your mom muttered.

“Why?” you turned your head to look at her in disbelief.

“Ashamed of following the sport that killed your brother. Ashamed of being with the man responsible for his death.” she sternly said.

You felt like a million daggers stabbing your heart all at once. You took a deep breath, putting your hand on his thigh, squeezing it lightly to indicate to him  not to react. It was something you had to do alone.

“F1 and Charles didn’t kill Luc, it was his leukemia, not anything else.” you replied, feeling a lump in your throat.

“If you had not introduced your brother to that stupid sport, he wouldn’t have been a fan and his illness wouldn't have turned that bad so quickly. He wasn’t talking about anything else than that sport and you. Until his very last breath. His last words were about Formula 1. It took my baby away from me and this is your fault. Both of you.” she finished, turning to Charles this time.

“If I can add something… I know I have no right to comment on this situation but even if I understand your pain, Y/N is not the one to blame. She…” Charles started, quickly shutted up by your dad.

“You’re right, you have no right to say a  thing. You don’t know what it is like to lose a son.”

“Maybe I don’t, yeah. But I know exactly what it feels like to lose a parent. I understand your pain. Truly. But with all due respect, you’ve already lost a son, you should be more careful to not lose a daughter by pushing her away and making her feel like a stranger in her own family.”

“We’ve already lost her the minute she decided to not show up at the funeral.” your mom spitted, making you close your eyes, trying to not cry. You wouldn’t give that pleasure to your parents.

“I think it’s best if we leave. It was a bad idea to come here, anyway.” you ended up saying, standing up, Charles following you. “You shouldn’t have invited me in the first place, if it was to treat me that way.”

You took Charles’ hand in yours and dragged him out of what had been once your safe place. Without a word you made your way to his car and rushed inside and it was only when the door was closed and that he had taken place behind the wheel that you broke down. He didn’t hesitate to pull you on his lap and let you cry on his shoulder, holding you tight.

“It’s okay, babe… you’re okay. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. You don’t have to feel bad, you have nothing to feel bad about. If you were believing your mom’s lies, I understand why you were so mean to me at the beginning now.”

“She is not entirely wrong, you know.” you sniffed in his neck. “At least about one thing, I should’ve been there for Luc’s funeral. But it was too hard for me. I didn’t want to face the fact that I would never see him again. I didn’t want to make the nightmare I was in real. because if I was going, it would happen exactly that. It would have made the pain real and permanent. I couldn’t.”

You put your forehead against his, trying to find a way to ground you. Charles drew small patterns on your hips, comforting you the best he could. 

“Let’s get some fresh air, okay?” he whispered against your ear.

You got out of the car and hand in hand you started to wander the streets of your childhood, telling him anecdotes and facts of any buildings and streets you were walking on and seeing.

“Tell me about Luc.” 

“What do you want to know?” 

“Everything. Whatever you want. Whatever you feel comfortable sharing with me.”

“He was passionate. About many things. History and art mostly. He wanted to work in a museum. And passionate about F1 of course. He knew a lot of mechanical stuff, more than I did. He taught me as much as I did, I swear. Maybe more. I was spending my weekends at the hospital with him to watch the races. When he was hospitalized, it was what kept him going. It was our thing, you know. Wait, I think I have a picture to show you.”

She took a photo out of her wallet and gave it to him. If he didn’t know it was a hospital room, he would have had a hard time guessing it. Everywhere were Ferrari and monegasque flags as well as a lot of merch. He was recognising one of his caps on the bedside table. Posters of his podiums were hung on the walls, his Monza’s win right above Luc’s head. Small replicas of his trophies were there too as well as miniatures of his helmets.

“A real fan.” he smiled.

“The best.” you sighed. “ You don’t know how happy he was when you won in Monza. It brought so much joy in his life. Even if it wasn’t for long. It was a tough time, he had just started to get hospitalized, he was very sick and pale and the shell of what he once was. And suddenly, he was feeling a little more alive. Because of you. Then, time went by and I had to leave for New York. It was the toughest decision I had to make in my life. At some point I was ready to take a year off so I could be with him…” 

“What made you change your mind?”

“Him. With time my dream became his. He wouldn’t have forgiven me if I was giving it all up because he was sick. He was talking about how amazing it would be if I was interviewing you. I bet he is the happiest up there.” you smiled, looking up. “One of his dreams was to meet you.”

“Maybe it is not too late?” Charles hesitantly said and you looked at him curiously. “Is he buried here?”

You nodded and he felt you stiffened.

“I've never been on his grave.” you confessed after a moment of silence. “It’s too hard and too painful to go there alone.”

“Good thing you’re not alone anymore, then.”

As you were making your way to the graveyard, Charles had to hold you closer to his chest with each step you were taking. You sobs were getting louder and your legs were shakier. It was breaking his heart, trying to see how much you were trying to keep it together.

When you finally reached the grave, at the back end of the graveyard, you fell on your knees in front of the black grave. Luc hated black. A black and white picture of him was also in the middle of the gravestone. It made you shiver. It was well kept, your parents were coming often. The lump in your throat had not gone away in the slightest, it was even bigger now, making you choke up on your own saliva. Charles wanted to hold you, wanted to get you out of here. The emotional devastation you were in was making him want to join you on the ground and cry with you. But he also knew you needed it. It was the closure you needed to move forward. He took a few steps away, giving you privacy.

“I’m so sorry, Luc. So sorry. Sorry about how I wasn’t there for you when you needed me most, sorry to have let you down, sorry to not have stepped up and measured up when I should have, sorry to not have been the sister you deserved. There is not a day that goes by when I don’t regret not being by your side. There are so many things that I should have done differently, so many things that I feel guilty about but none of them compare to how guilty I feel to not have said goodbye. I acted like a coward and I know how much you felt scared about dying. And how I promised you I would hold your hand until the end. I didn’t. I chickened out and I failed you. If I could go back in time, I would, just so I could look into your eyes one last time and hold your hand tight. I wouldn’t hesitate. I would trade anything for one last smile of yours. I hope you can forgive me, I sure can’t do that alone. But despite everything I’m happy and I’m not sure I should be. I fell in love and you would be ecstatic to know who I share my life with. He is supportive and kind and perfect for me. I wish we would have had enough time so you could have met him. But maybe after all, it’s you I should thank. Maybe it’s you who sent Charles on my way. Maybe it is your way of telling me that you are not mad at me. That you want me to be happy. If only you could give me a sign. I just want you to know that everything I do, I do it for you. Because I love you. Forever.”

You felt Charles’ arms around your shoulders as he crouched down beside you.

“Hey, Luc. I know we don’t know each other but your sister talks about you so much that I feel like I already know you. I would have loved to meet you, I know how big of a fan you are of F1. I would have loved to show you around the paddock, maybe I would have let you sit in my car. Anything to make you and your sister smile. You are brave and strong and I have nothing but pure admiration for you. I wish I could have met you. Don’t worry about your sister, I take good care of her and I don’t want to let go of her. I’m here for her for as long as she lets me but I hope it is a forever kind of thing.” he whispered as you looked at him with big and glossy eyes.

He helped you stand up, asked if you were alright and if you wanted to leave. He didn’t mind staying but he wanted to make sure you were alright, the day had been emotionally draining enough. When you nodded, he took you in his arms, engulfing you in his jacket so you weren’t cold and kissed the top of your head as you headed out.

“I’m so proud of you. So proud.” he said as you finally reached his car.

“Thank you. For being there. I don’t think I would have been able to do it alone.”

“You’re the strongest person I know. You would have done it at some point.”

“Did you mean it? What you said up there… About us being forever.” you shyly asked.

“I’m sorry it was not the best time to say it. But to answer you, I do. I’m not kidding, Y/N, I swear I can’t explain it. I don’t know how either but I just know. You’re the love of my life.”

Author's note: In laws meeting incoming... how do you think it will turn out? .

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[namwool]

genuine question: if corporal punishment was a common thing in ancient times, doesn't that justify qjl's treatment of sj too? slavery was normal at the time, after all

It physically pains me to answer this question. But yes.

While I dislike QJL's greatly to the point that it makes me want to strangle him, chop off his dick, shove it down his throat and make him shit his own balls, the historical context is important to understand why he was 'entitled' to abuse SJ.

We, modern people, who live differently from our great-great-great ancestors, in different times with different values, one in which we're taught that beating someone is wrong, is different from the beliefs of people from thousands of years ago.

Take for instance ancient Egypt, the Roman Empire etc. Owning slaves back then was the norm. If you were to ask a civilian of those empires, they wouldn't dwell too much on the morality of owning slaves. They wouldn't see anything wrong with it. Because it easied their work.

And if one group defeated another, it was a normal practice to enslave the defeated.

Back then, abuse and slavery were considered to be as natural as breathing. Just like slavery was prominent, so was domestic abuse.

Does this make it ok? No.

My parents lived through a period of time were corporeal punishments were a must-have in schools. Whenever they recount their times, telling me how school operated back them, I am always left speechless and horrified.

In my mind, the only one allowed to lift a hand on me is my mother. And that's it.

However, I have noticed the inconsistent views my parents have about teachers hitting students.

When they talk about their school years, recounting how severe and strict their teachers were, they dont view it as sever as I see it.

And that's where the conflicting views lie.

If a teacher ever lifted a hand on me, my mom would have brought hell on earth, but, at the same time, she doesn't think her teachers had been wrong when using a stick to strike the student's palm for not doing homework.

YQY and SJ himself, despite having experienced slavery, dont address it as much. Which is a clear indicator that they too believe it to be normal. Not even SY, someone who came from the 'modern' world, seems to be affect by the concept of slavery. Let's remember that while exploring SJ's memories he said something along the lines of seeing a live action of a murder, not once addressing the severe abuse SJ suffered at the hands of QJL.

Am I saying that slavery and abuse are normal?

Fuck no.

No one deserves to be beaten up. Shen Jiu didn't deserve the beatings, nor did Luo Binghe, nor anyone else.

Slavery is a disgusting practice, which deserves to be punished accordingly. Slavery ruined many people's livelihood, and caused generational trauma. And we see that with Shen Jiu as well, whose personal trauma ended up affecting LBH as well.

However, if people are going to excuse LBH's inhumane behavior, torture and savage dismemberment of SJ, turning him into a limbless state, I might as well excuse SJ's abuse toward LBH, while totally ignoring QJL's existance.