#ive been left before. ive left people before. but it never felt this bad. because i had never managed to get this close first.

[penisbilt]

the bittersweet but absolute flood of relief that comes from admitting defeat at living independently, to have to move back in with parents. we tried! we gave it our best shot for almost 3 years! but living like this (being on our own) is just not possible for us at this time of our lives. we've finally proved it to ourselves that we can't do it. it'll be okay to let ourselves rest now

[onrainynights]

I'm about to be so annoying btw

[iamnotexe]

baby's first heartbreak lets go

[hughiecampbelle]

The Boys Preference: Reacting To Your Symbiote

Requested: HEYY ive been eating UPP your head-canons for rhe boys, i would like to request one on how they would react w/ a reader that has a symbiote (venom basically) except it’s not like butcher’s case, but spouted from comp v when they were injected at a young age :D - anon

A/N: This idea is cool my love!!!! I hope you like it!! I did base it off clips from Venom/the Wikipedia just bc it's been ages since I saw the movie lol so apologies if anything is wrong!!! Feedback is always appreciated 💜

Requests are open! 🔮

Butcher thinks your symbiote is both gross and a great thing to have on the team. You didn't tell anyone about them, fearing you'd hear the same responses you'd always heard growing up. He interrogates you about your powers. You promise you would never hurt anyone, that it's pretty bad in terms of looks, but that you have everything under control. That's not good enough for him. He wants you to show him. After more yelling and assumptions, you snap. It's only your arms that you allow to be taken over, but it's enough to leave him feeling sick. Afterwards you're pretty quiet, avoiding him as well as you can. The look on his face was exactly what you were trying to avoid. Eventually he grows a little more used to them and even apologized, though it's a poor one at best. When he really sees you in action he's left speechless. The team needs you, both of you. You're strong, and powerful, and scary in the best way possible.

Hughie was pretty freaked out the first time you showed him. You begged him to run, to save himself, but mostly you wanted him gone so he wouldn't have to see. When he didn't, you had no other choice. Your symbiote took over, giving you just enough control to apologize before, quite literally, annihilating your attackers. He couldn't believe what he was witnessing. He knew you were a Supe, you were pretty upfront about that, but you'd never gone into detail about what you could actually do. He understood why. Your symbiote was the thing of nightmares. It was malleable, and throbbing, and it could be as large as it wanted. It swallowed you whole, making itself a set of knife-sharp teeth. It smiled at him, telling him he was safe, which would have been endearing had it not been you standing in its place moments before. He has a lot of questions, all of them you're more than willing to answer. He deserves to know, especially coming face to face with them. You're an open book, the both of you are.

Annie was pissed. You never told her you were a Supe in the first place. You couldn't tell her. She was everything good about Supes and you feared you were everything bad. You were afraid of her judgement. You had enough of that from M.M. You made sure no one told her, not until you thought she was ready. And then she watched you save Hughie. She felt like an idiot, watching them take over your body, in awe and horror. She felt lied to. Technically, you think but dare not say, it wasn't lying because she never asked you, she just assumed you were human. You apologize anyways, knowing it wasn't right. You show her your symbiote bit by bit, introducing them slowly, telling her as much as you think she can handle at a time. You've been told, if you wanted, you'd be a perfect villain, you'd fit right in with Homelander. You didn't want her to come to the same conclusion. Annie could come to rash decisions at times. You figured you and your symbiote were no exceptions.

M.M isn't the biggest fan. It's nothing personal. Being a Supe is enough not to make him like you. On top of that you've got this thing inside of you that has a mind of its own. It could be capable of anything and you'd have very little control over it. You know this. You've been dealing with it since you were a kid. You and your symbiote grew up together. You've reached a level of mutual understanding and maturity that they aren't just going to start running around and rob banks or hurt people. That's not who either of you are. Still, he can't shake the feeling, the worry, that they could turn on your team at any moment. Your symbiote knows M.M. doesn't like them and, much like a dog, wants to give him extra attention because of it. You've had long talks about what not to do around him, keeping them in check so that you can gain just an inch more of trust. Anything helps to show him that you're not a monster.

Frenchie is probably the most comfortable around your symbiote out of all The Boys. He has a lot of questions for the both of you, especially about your childhood. For many years you thought you were a monster. Your family was expecting powers that could save people, that would get you into The Seven. Instead there was this thing that took over your body, this creature that could control their child. They thought it was gross, unsightly, and forbid you from letting them out. Of course you didn't listen. When you fell off your bike and skinned your knee, they fixed it. When you couldn't reach something, they helped you. They weren't all bad, they just weren't willing to learn that. Still, there was a lot of shame and even now, you struggle to open up about them. There's absolutely no judgement from Frenchie. He's fascinated. Awestruck. He tells you constantly how cool and powerful he thinks you both are. He doesn't want you to think of yourself as some kind of monster or abomination. Ever.

Kimiko watched your symbiote take over the first time you were really hurt. Homelander pushed you off the roof and you fell, breaking your bones, gasping for air, but magically alive. If she could have, she would have screamed. Your symbiote, as gently as it could, wrapped itself around your body, resetting your bones, putting your insides back together. It was excruciating. It only takes a few minutes before you're completely healed. She watches in awe, eyes wide, unsure of what the hell just happened, but eternally grateful you were okay. She stands you up, unsure of what to say. That night, you tell her everything. She's the first to really appreciate them. They're not the most attractive and have a wicked attitude, but they care about you. They saved you. Anyone who loves you that much is good in her books. She gives them names, asking how Kevin is or if Susan might be able to help her with something. It always makes you smile, knowing she isn't afraid of them or thinks of you any differently.

Bonus! Homelander thinks your symbiote is disgusting and weird. He refused to have you be a part of The Seven, but without any other candidates, he eventually gave in. You do a lot of weird things that truly make him uncomfortable. Arguing with your symbiote is a big one. Only you can hear them when they're inside, so it just looks like you're talking to yourself all the time. He hates when you're "saving" someone and they come out, but only partially, like a hand or leg. Something about that, you and them together, makes him queasy. When it's one or the other, that's a little better. When he gets uncomfortable he gets angry, which is bad news for you. Like The Deep, you've become a scapegoat for Homelander. If anything goes wrong, it's your fault. Your symbiote doesn't like him and, as hard as you try to keep them in check, they make it known.

[valsvalentine]

The other woman

·˚ ༘summary. A new student joined the school; seeming pretty friendly you had all decided to befriend the girl and let her in on your fun. However the girl wasn’t as friendly and nice as you thought she was, soon finding out that people can be a bit two faced.

·˚ ༘genre. angst

·˚ ༘warning. not proof read

part I .. part II .. part III .. part IV

Things have been strange ever since your last hang out with Yuji. He’s given the kinds of signals that he might like you but then would act like he only thought of you as a friend. Nobara tried asking him about you, but the responses were typically something along the lines of “She’s cool.” or “She’s fun to be around.” which didn’t help your case.

Weeks passed and you kept hanging out, sometimes even just the two of you which never failed to be anything less then fun. You got along quite well as yourself and even as your anonymous persona, which confused you even more. Would he be dissapointed if he found out it was you?

You walked into the school like usual, only this time you weren’t as cheery or bubbly as you usually were which was strange. Nobara and Maki noticed almost instantly, which got them to interogate you like parents afree you went out with a boy for the first time. ‘Okay you need to sit down and tell us what’s weong cuz this is not our Y/N.” Nobara says sternly and slides over your favourite soda to cheer you up. Maki throws you a candy bar and ruffles up your hair with a concerned look. “Yeah kid you look horrible.” She says in a joking manner but earns a glare from Nobara. You smile lightly at the two girls trying their best to comfort you, sometimes hating how well they know you and that nothing just slides past them so easily. “I don’t know I’ve just been thinking lately.” Nobara lifts a brow and urges you to continue. “About?”

“Yuji.” Maki finishes and you instantly look at her with a taken aback expression. “Eh? How do you know?” You whine, your leg bouncing up and down out of pure habit. “I just know you too well.” Maki said casually and sat down on your right while Nobara sat on your left.

And finally that broke you. You told them everything, showed them all of the messages and how you felt. Everything came pouring out at once and they let you collect your thoughts patiently. Tears threatened to spill out of your eyes yet nothing came out because you were too embarrassed to cry in front of hundreds of students.

Maki glanced at Nobara, and the two exchanged a knowing look before Maki got a ‘bright’ idea; "Why don’t you try being more direct? You’ve got nothing to lose you know?” You looked at her with a ‘seriously’ kind of look before throwing your hands around like crazy as you spoke. “Are you insane? Are you trying to embarrass me?” You said and started rambling on and on about how that was not a good idea and why keeping your anonymous persona would be a hundred times better and that things would get better in no time. Nobara and Maki just sighed, letting you live in your delusions for a little while longer, knowing damn well they���d pull you out of that mess if it meant you were going to get hurt. They cared for you, they truly did and they wouldn’t just sabotage you to make you hurt more.

You all walked to your class after eating lunch, talking about a supposedly new student joining all the way from Osaka. “Why do you guys think she transferred?” Nobara whispered, turning in her seat to face you and Maki who were sitting behind her. But before you could answer the teacher burst in along with the new girl.

You soon learned that the girls name was Emiko. She was tall, with long black hair and an air of confidence that immediately drew everyone's attention. A hoard of whispers started to fill the room before the teacher quieted the class down and introduced her more thoroughly. She looked pretty mature and level headed— maybe having a new classmate wouldn’t be that bad after all?

As the weeks passed Emiko quickly became part of the group, hanging out with everyone at school and soon even outside of school. At first you were ecstatic to have her as a friend since she was always kind and gave everyone food at school or gave them simple compliments; but you noticed she especially did so with Yuji. She’d always be around him and would more so chat with him then with anyone else and always interrupted your conversations whenever you wanted to hang out just the two of you for a while as the group discussed something not so important in your eyes. And soon the nit picking comments, glares, harsh words and fake incidents started. It started off pretty normal; she’d always have something to say about what you did, how you did it, what you wore that day or even what and how much you ate.

“Oh Y/N your hairs a bit messy, do you not have a brush at home? Here let me give you one, okay?”

“Aren’t those jeans from [shop name]? Heard those are pretty cheap. Are they good quality? You know you can always borrow something odd mine though I’m not sure if they’ll fit you since you’ve gotten such an appetite lately!”

“That looks wrong let me help you! It’s okay some people are just pretty slow at this. Maybe try considering a tutor? Can you afford that?”

It was like she had a problem with just you and Nobara seemed to notice first. Maki soon became suspicious of the girls behaviour and would sometimes snap back to shut her up. “Maybe she doesn’t find those expensive rags you wear as likeable as you do?” “Why shouldn’t she be able to afford it?” “Her hair is just fine like what are you even talking about?” Yet she’d always find a way to make it sound like she’s only helping out a friend.

Then came the gaslighting and manipulation. She’d pry information out of you to later use against you, even getting you to tell her about your little crush on Yuji and how you’ve been dealing with it; that being the anonymous texting. What could go wrong? She’s someone you can trust, right?

Soon winter came and everyone was gettinf ready to celebrate the upcoming holidays; the school organizing a kind of winter dance. You wanted to ask Yuji to go with you, planning out the whole day and how your ‘proposal’ would go. Little did you know someone had already asked the pink haired boy; Emiko had asked him the day before you without you knowing and Yuji had agreed, thinking nothing of it since he thought it would only be as friends. He kindly declined your proposal, apologising profusely for letting you down and you could do nothing more but just walk away and find your friends to plan that special say with them.

You all went shopping for dresses and suits, you getting a nice winter themed dress while the others bought something on theme as well. You all had a lot of fun that day, even Emiko seemed especially kind that day which was nee but welcome. Nobara found it a bit suspicious, you, Maki and Nobara calling later that day to discuss the matter. “Don’t you think she was a bit off today?” Nobara said as she put on a face mask. You shrugged, brushing your wet hair and getting some of the jewellery you wanted to wear ready for tomorrow. “Don’t know, she was pretty cool today which is a nice change.” “N/N people don’t just change overnight, I don’t know it just seems pretty weird.” Maki said and Nobara nodded; “Yeah and especially not after praying on your down fall for the whole time she’s been here!” You chuckles a bit at the statement, shaking your head. “Maybe she had a change of heart?”

The day of the dance you all got ready and met up half an hour sooner to get a ride to school. It was hosted to be at 6pm and would be ending at around 9 which was long enough for you all to have fun together. You danced, sang along to songs and ate to your hearts content; the school doing an exceptionally great job with the food and drinks. Your night couldn’t have been better until you went out for fresh air; accidentally hearing Emiko’s and Yuji’s conversation.

“I’m the one that has been messaging you anonymously for a while now, and I thought today would be the best time to finally confess!” She said and tucked a peace of her hair behind her ear.

“But you joined our school just a few months ago? How did you get my number?” He asked suspiciously and backed away from the girl, clearly quite uncomfortbale.

“Well I came here during the sport event to see what your school was like and.. I saw you! I asked around, one thing lead to another and I got your number!” She said enthusiastically and if you weren’t the one that was behind this, you would’ve believed her.

Yuji looked shocked to say the least, well shocked enough that he didn’t care to ask for proof and believed her, not looking as happy as he thought he would be. Would he be more upset if it was you? Maybe it was good she took the credit, she saved you from the embarrassment that could’ve came with you confessing. Yeah.. everything would be fine.

That day you left the dance early without a word, waking up the next day to hundreds of texts and missed calls from Nobara, Maki and a few others. You typed a quick message into your groupchat on instagram and put your phone away. Finally the holidays were here but everything felt different then usual. It wasn’t as relaxing or exciting to be free of school for a few days like it usually was, now it just felt empty. There were no emotions left for you to pour out, there were no more tears able to fall from your red puffy eyes, no more screams and hateful words were able to fall out from your sore throat so you just layed there in your own misery that you’ve created.

taglist: @cookiemunches @slut-for-fictional-men @thejadeazalea

[socksracoon10]

Is That It?

A/N: AHH IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK FOREVER, IVE JUST BEEN SO BUSY OK?!??! IM SO SORRY GUYS I REALLY MEAN IT! But omg im so glad im back to writing and finally done with this draft! Pairing: Will Turner x F!Reader

"You think he's ever coming back?" Your friend, Charlotte, questioned you. You were busy scrubbing the floor of the Governor's room with a very thing rag of cloth. You held it up, unfolding it to get a glimpse of all its holes and tears, a predicament to your tireless work. Gazing into one of the holes which led to the view of the sea outside the grand window, you let out a desolate sigh,

"I've lost all hope."

"Such a shame, I really thought he was interested in you." Charlotte huffed out, before sneezing against the dressing table; the dust flying in every direction it could find. You rolled your eyes, returning back to your work. It had been such a long time since you had heard anything about Will Turner, you almost thought you had forgotten his existence. The first few days after he had left was a blow to your guts, but then as time went on, you managed to adapt a new life - one which definitely didn't involve you making frequent pit stops at the blacksmith's workshop.

All you remembered was him hurriedly running about, fighting the incoming pirates. One of them had their hands wrapped around your throat, their eyes burning into your soul as they repeatedly uttered foreign words to your ears. You didn't understand it, you had no need to. All you could think about was finding a way out of the situation you were in; Will also had the same idea, because in a short amount of time, he hopped over to you and crashed a bottle of rum against the pirate's head and then looked back up at you in anger.

"What are you doing here?" He croaked out, grabbing you by your arm before dragging you off.

"I was coming to find you!" You exclaimed, shaking your head, "I didn't know it was going to get this bad out of nowhere! Who even are these people?"

"Pirates, and I don't - well, they took Elizabeth." He grumbled and you sucked your teeth to hide the surge of jealousy coursing through your veins. Yes, they were childhood friends and were very well acquainted with each other, but you had spent more time with Will than anyone else! I mean, who let him into the Governor's quarters to deliver the swords? Who made food for him and left them at his doorstep? You did, of course! But the oaf was always so caught up with his feelings for Elizabeth, you could hardly ever tell if you were just there as his "best friend" or someone to service him.

When he had left without informing you, you felt at first very much betrayed. And then you felt anger course through your veins only to be simmered down with your gut rattling in resentment. You figured you were dead to him, and that him leaving abruptly was a sign that you no longer meant anything to him. You scowled at yourself, fidgeting with your fingers as you tried to make the best of the situation at hand. The only thing your mind told you to do was to move on, with or without him. It did not matter anymore.

The Governor had seen promise in you after the disappearance of his daughter and Commodore Norrington was charged with sending you back to England for an education. You were, after all, the same age as Elizabeth and showed "some sign of intelligence" according to the people around you. You held your tongue, head faced downwards because as much as Port Royal was home to you, this opportunity would never cross your path ever again. It would only be wise to employ it and distract yourself from the boredom within the port. Besides, your only friend had left you, so there really was no point in sticking around in this dreary place. You sighed, nodding your head at whatever the old men would instruct you to do, and found yourself aboard a ship, setting sail towards England for a new chapter in your life. ****

"What's going on? What's with the ruckus?" You had asked, emerging from the special quarters on the ship. The weather was monstrous, the thunder booming every 5 seconds as a reminder of the treacherous seas. The waves splashed against the ship, churning it as if it were butter. The first mate on the crew instructed you to return back to your room, but you could barely understand what was going on. Should your return to Port Royal be this miserable? Was this the sea's way of telling you to return to England? After finishing 2 dreadfully long years of education through a prestigious - and prude - tutor, you longed to return to that misshapen cottage you once called home. At the moment, it seemed that your grave would lack the corpse it needed if everyone on board was going to drown. From the fog, your eyes bore into the sight of a mysteriously, large ship. Its flag tethered, its wood withered. As the crew around you began panicking, screaming, and crying for mercy, you stood there in shock. This was a pirate ship.

You remembered Will. He had gone after Elizabeth after she had been abducted by those foul creatures. You wondered what happened to him, wondered if he was still the same sweet Will you had grown up with. As the ship in front of you came to a stop, the planks were drawn out. Ah, now was probably a good time to head back into your quarters.

"Wait, wait, Miss (L/N), you cannot leave us! Where are you going!" A small boy had asked. You pitied him, he was no more than 6 years old. Feeling your heart battle with morality, you caught hold of his arm and dragged him into your quarters. You pushed the bed to its side and hid behind it, closer to the wall with the boy seated on your lap. You brought a hand over his mouth and whispered into his ear,

"Not a word out of you. We do not want to be killed."

That was enough to have him behave. The sounds outside only increased tenfold. You could hear flesh being slain, and bones crushing against metal swords. Gruesome, vile noises. You gagged to yourself, resting your head against the wall as you tried to formulate an escape from all this. There had to be another way. You peered over the side of the bed, noticing a shadow behind the door; it lingered for a few more seconds before a sword came pummeling through. The boy in your arms shrieked in horror, and you clasped his mouth shut as you shrank into the corner of the room. There was a sword tucked into the wooden boards under you, mainly for the ship's captain. He wouldn't be needing it now. You propped yourself with your knees, pulling the board open as the boy snuck his arm in to retrieve the glistening sword for you. When you caught hold of the metal, you merely nodded your head to the boy and then stood up to guard him. The door to the quarters was being ripped down by the pirates outside, and you stepped back, the sword stretched out towards the incoming villains.

"Stand back, foul pirates! You do not want to mess with me!" You bellow, swiping your sword around. The pirates that had finally come into view all snickered under their breath, their gazes dark and unforgiving. You saw one press his foot forward, and you jutted the sword out as a warning. He smiled in response, before they all turned their heads to face the man pushing through them.

"Out of the way, out of the way, move," A voice splintered through, and through the darkness of the storm, you couldn't make his face out exactly. The little boy behind you brought the candle from the wall over to the crowd, and that was when the light illuminated Will's face. Your jaw dropped at first, words disintegrating into the air at the sight of him.

"Will?" Your eyes widened, shoulders sagging just a bit. Will raised an eyebrow, scanning you very carefully before he noticed the locket around your neck. It was an oval shape, crafted by him as a gift for your 12th birthday. His hands gently came to lift it up in the light, and a soft gasp escaped his lips,

"(Y/N), it's you!" He exclaimed, pulling you into a tight embrace. The sword fell from your hands, clattering onto the ground below as you stood there in shock. You had never thought you'd see him again, and here he was… as a pirate?!? Your blood was boiling, the audacity of him to even hug you when you had spent years worried over him. You shoved him off before slapping him across his face. The crowd of pirates behind him winced in unison, all of them awkwardly looking away.

"I-I never thought that'd happen to me," Will groaned, rubbing his sore cheek. He watched you push past him to the deck outside, the storm still relentlessly pouring down onto the men aboard. You looked so foreign to him, standing there in those fancy nightgowns that he had only ever seen Elizabeth wear. When he had left you that night, he had embarked on a journey that had changed his entire life. He had discovered that his father was a pirate and that he was meant to be among the seas, not toiling away in Port Royal. Elizabeth had managed to find a hold among the seas too, but she declined Will's proposal to her. She told him she had viewed him more as a brother than anything else, and while that did hurt him at first, he slowly came around to understand it.

And then he remembered you, waiting for him at Port Royal. Even with all that had happened, he never wanted to come back because he believed that by showing up unexpectedly, he was only hurting you more. He figured your life as a maid was already bad enough; he was wrong, clearly. You no longer looked like a maid, you looked like the daughter of a prestigious family. He chewed his lip, eyes grazing over your form to understand what this new transformation meant but before he could even ask, he saw Jack Sparrow stumbling towards you. That was more than enough for him to try and save you.

"My lovely lady, what ever brings you-" Jack began, abruptly cut off by Will jumping in,

"Ah, that's enough of that," He glared at Jack, before forcing a smile towards you, "(Y/N), please. I need some time to talk to you. Alone. Privately."

"I could help the mistress dry her clothes," Jack grinned, stepping forward. You caught a glance of Will sucking his teeth in, trying his hardest to maintain his composure. You smirked, remembering the days when you used to tease him for always carrying a wooden gun, pretending to be an officer. He had that same look on his face, that grumpy attitude when someone tried to break up your play time. Your eyes softened, reminiscing the good days. You sorely missed him, that was for sure.

"Well, as grateful as I am that you have offered to be of some assistance to me, pirate," You crinkled your nose, pushing past Jack, "I suppose I could have some pity towards this man and converse with him… of course, if he promises to have the little boy on board with him."

Will's mouth parted slightly, frowning at your words, "I… I'm not… the uh… it doesn't matter with me, I mean I'd keep him…" He paused, momentarily to peer down at the little boy next to you, before looking to Jack, "It's up to him, though. He's the Captain."

"I am! I am!" Jack cheered, clasping his hands together. You crossed your arms, turning to Will,

"You're not even Captain?" You questioned through gritted teeth.

"I… no. Is that… Is that bad?" He shrugged, wincing at the way your shoulders were rising. You merely huffed out in annoyance, grabbing the ends of your dress to stalk off to the opposite side of the deck. Your anger was uncontrollable. He wasn't even Captain? Then what the hell was he doing for so long away from you? An absolute waste of time! You grumbled under your breath, feeling every urge in your body to lash out on him. When you swiftly turned on your heels, you were faced with a very apologetic Will who was trying his best to comfort you,

"Listen, it's not as bad as you-"

"Oh, shut it! I have spent years, years pining for you! I thought you were dead! I thought you had gone off with Elizabeth, or spent the rest of your life stuck on an awful ship! The possibilities, the scenarios I had thought about your future! And, and… and even if you were a pirate, I figured you'd be a Captain with all the skills you have! What even are you? You horrible creature, you vile beast! You tormented me for this long and this is all you could do? How dare you even show your face to me after all you have done!?!" You bellowed, slapping his face. Will stepped backwards, his mind reeling at your words.

"That's it?" Will asked, eyes wide open as he stared at you.

"That's it?" You repeated, chest heaving in shock, "Is that it? Really? That's all you have to say? I just confessed my feelings and that's all you have to say!"

Will stood there, like a sword lodged into a piece of wood. He swallowed, thickly, trying everything that he could to understand what was happening. You had just confessed that you have had feelings for him since you were young, that you were worried sick for him this whole time. He felt like a fool! To think that he had spent ages worshipping Elizabeth when you were right there beside him. He looked down in embarrassment, feeling a bit ashamed at this revelation. You had shoved him to the side, angrily muttering things under your breath as you headed towards the broken quarters.

And Will knew, as he watched you go, that he had to make up for this somehow. He'd start by showing you just how much he had missed you too.

[jaggedamethyst]

trying...

pairing: bucky x reader (non gender specified)

content: bucky is dealing with trauma as a result of his time as the winter soldier, you accidentally get caught in the crossfire. (references to physical harm, mentions of violence, inferred ptsd symptoms and trauma, etc). also slight stucky if you squint bc i know theres fans out there.

notes: ive thought about trying to put this into words for so long, i hope it translates well. i may do a part two if the people want it. pls read the content warning above and steer away if this may trigger you.

word count: 1.8k

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

In recovering from the absolute torture that was Bucky’s life the last few years—there were few moments of solace. The worst being the slight feeling of peace before all of his progress abruptly drained back to zero… before he’d been reminded of a trigger. 

Something would suddenly pop into his brain—betraying him—and he’d be forced to physically and metaphorically swat the idea away. The problem, though, was that this soldier was doing what any good one does, fighting. James Buchanan Barnes knew what it was to be a good man, a good soldier. But the Winter was more formidable than ever. 

Whenever the opportunity presented itself, the assassin had to make an attempt at clawing its way out. 

The attempts weren’t infrequent. 

Bucky would sit by the window, unable to sleep. He would often be forced to watch the sunrise. Daybreak. He’d long committed the color of the sun meeting the skyline to his memory and with it the unfortunate feeling of his companion wanting to make an appearance. 

Whenever he’d volunteer to build something. The screws, bolts, and nails would be shiny enough to reflect Bucky’s face back to him. An image he’d hate to observe, of course. All he could see in them was potential, though. Positive connotations escaped him in this instance because all he could see was an opportunity for destruction…natural wear and tear…oxidation. Like him, these pieces of metal existing just meant that there was a chance to become worn. To decay. To become something bad…rusted. 

Numbers were the hardest to avoid and he realized just how often something can torment you when it becomes a thing you hate. One, nine, seventeen. Nine, seventeen, one. Seventeen, one, nine. In any order or occurrence these numbers seemed to follow him as close as his shadow—if not more so. He’d become particularly hateful towards one. The casual “one second,” “one moment,” and “I’ll call you back in one minute” seemed to linger in his brain for far too long. 

Freight car. Attempts to get out more proved futile. No matter how far he tried to get away, the sound of rumbling would fill his ears. He knew the sound too well. Bucky knew the feeling of air leaving your lungs. He’d grown accustomed to the feeling of falling. He felt it every day. 

The thing about falling is that when it occurs for long enough it almost feels normal. That slight weightless feeling and euphoria tricked Bucky the first time it happened. That was until he hit the ground. In experiencing one or more of his triggers every day, the feeling of weightlessness returned—so consistent that in a weird way, Bucky felt as if he’d won. He could no longer be shocked by the initial stomach drop if he continued to propel towards something nonexistent. He could no longer be surprised by the euphoria if the impact never came…if he never hit the ground. To him, if it happened so frequently that you were no longer taken aback, you’d beaten your triggers right? 

He couldn’t be more wrong. He was terribly so. 

If there was one thing Bucky learned and ignored in his various therapy sessions is that acting like something isn’t there is not…ideal. Having this being claw and tear at him left him with metaphorical lesions that he wasn’t tending to. People tried. There was never an interaction for which Steve wasn’t looking at his best friend with longing. Longing for the stoic and confident man he once knew. This person was a shell. Even with all the progress, he would never forget the one person he had left seeing him as nothing more than a mission. One only wonders how he’d feel to know that Bucky sees every day as one, a mission, an attempt to not crash the fuck out. (That was something new he learned, suited him for sure).

Again, people tried. Without even realizing it, you tried. 

The day you met Bucky, he just seemed grumpy to you. “Valid,” you’d thought with a shrug. There wasn’t really much to not be grumpy about these days. Yet, you flashed him a smile that warmed his insides—and not in the usual evil entity trying to escape way. 

In the darkest of days inside his mind, he found something to aspire towards just knowing you walked this planet. 

You’d known each other for a while before it became anything serious; he was reasonably weary of getting close to anyone for fear of dragging them down with him. But, he promised he’d never hurt you—every time he uttered the phrase in passing you shrugged him off, reassuring him that you knew. 

“James, we both know you wouldn’t hurt a bee—“ you stopped to point to him, his brow arched as you knew it’d be. “And I know that's not the phrase, okay! You’re an old man and you know all the platitudes.” 

Bucky stood to meet you in the center of your shared apartment, “what does that have to do with you saying the phrase wrong?”

“My point,” you said, tapping his nose for emphasis, “is as I said.” You snaked your arms around him, “you wouldn’t hurt a bee.” You locked eyes with him, “because even if a bee was attacking you, swarming all around you, and wanting to hurt you…you still wouldn’t hurt it. You wouldn’t swat your hand or anything. Some may say that's just stupid…but I think it pretty much sums up the person you are. I know that. You know that.” 

You pecked his lips and walked away. 

Bucky was left speechless and almost teary-eyed by your analogy. But that was you, trying…without trying. He owed it to you to try, too. 

The thing about that is, there was still so much for him to uncover. He had fallen for so long, he knew that. He’d been traumatized for so long without saying anything. 

He had nightmares that only went away when he stopped sleeping altogether. It had been so long since he truly rested that he let himself forget about that inconvenience.

Tonight, he decided, was the night he would face his fears by being well-rested to take on the next day. He mumbled to himself, “One day at a time, right?” He slipped into bed with an excitement he hadn’t really expected. It wasn’t long before sleep overtook him. 

_______________________

He woke suddenly to screams. A woman? The high-pitched and erratic yells made his head hurt worse than he’d ever experienced. 

“What the hell is happening?” 

He turned in bed to see you not there, which immediately made him spring into action. Calling your name and getting no response anywhere in the apartment was enough to make him want to cry. But the screams. They were coming from outside, not in. 

He looked out the window to see if he could see what was going on and oh my gosh. 

With no shoes, he ran. He felt as if the stairway was endless. The pain of the asphalt was nothing in comparison to the pit in his stomach as he ran directly towards it. Towards your car wrecked. Completely wrapped around a tree. How could this happen? The one time he’d gone to sleep. 

Nobody was helping you. Your car literally sitting with you inside motionless. There was no time to think, he ripped the door off. He reached for you, pulling you from the car. He knew CPR but everything was escaping him, it seemed. 

He pleaded and yelled for someone to help, realizing that your body was much more limp and cold than ideal right now. He repeated “no” more times than he’d ever in his life. He clung to you, squeezing you, praying for a miracle. But there was nobody. He clawed at anything; your clothes quickly became battered. He was so confused. His head met your chest, his attempt at trying to wish you back to life. Back to him. But the look in your eyes was so—wait. Not your eyes…

The “no, no, no” repeated again, without him even trying. He felt a scratching at him. A darkness enveloped him and his surroundings and his hand…

His hand was on someone's neck. No. A man. 

He remembered this. His body working against itself to execute orders. His mind fighting within its own skull to erase the memories of James. 

James

It repeated faintly in his mind, and yet as much as he grasped for it he couldn’t seem to reach it. 

James

It was getting lower. He tried, he was trying. He felt it pounding at him. Suddenly, that familiar jolt. But rather than an electric current pulsing through his body in an attempt to disconnect him from reality, he’d finally have to face this one. 

He was sleeping. No, he was dreaming. The voice inside his head, you, calling to him in a plea to stop. The James that would never hurt a bee, had hurt you. 

He fell back quickly, feeling himself glossed over in sweat. He looked to you, speechless, bruises already forming on your arms. He clung to you, squeezing you. 

Bucky sobbed immediately, reaching to console you. You moved back before even processing it. The flash of hurt in his eyes moved you, but your fear kept you at a distance. 

“Did I,” he mumbled, “did I ch-“ he couldn’t get the word out. 

You shook silently, eyes shifting to the bedpost that was now clearly disfigured…a set of fingers printed along it. His hands on someone's neck. 

You were lucky, a split second and some scratching and you were able to get some distance between you. Even there, you didn’t feel settled. You witnessed your boyfriend, grasp what could’ve very easily been your neck and squeeze with an ease so unsettling that you had no choice but to try and stop him. Despite all the advice you heard to never wake someone this way, you knew he’d been hurting. You hit him, as hard as you could. He tried, he was trying. He felt it pounding at him.

“I am,” the man inhaled, “more sorry than I can ever begin to express to you. I don’t know what happened.” You observed him slowly rise to his feet, clearly drained. “I made you a promise. Who am I… if I can’t let that be true?” 

Bucky moved silently and quickly, ignoring your voice calling out to him. Even in shock, you were trying. You tried. 

Within minutes some people you recognized started to look you over—empathy in their eyes. You drowned out their medical talk, looking for Bucky, noticing he slipped out without a word. 

People tried. He tried. But the scars of the Winter Soldier had become so big that they’d inadvertently grown. Like roots—weeds—they festered and spread to the ones he loved. 

He didn’t know what to say to you, or if he could ever be with you ever again. But he watched from a distance, observing you be tended to like a fresh garden. The weeds seemed to dwindle. While still there, he knew that at the very least—he wasn’t contributing to your stunt growth. Without him, you could blossom into so much more.

(ps. sorry about the emotional scarring 💀)

- amethyst 💟

[tiddygame]

i’ve stared at this for so long that i now hate it and think ive lost all concept of how to write so take this and get it out of my google docs

the introduction is rough and the medical depictions (and accuracy/realism) could use some (a lot of) work but whatever! here it is, my vague yet still oddly specific idea of how the face reveal would go in @myriadblvck ’s streamer au:

tw: description of a panic attack? i think?

[this takes place post first irl meet but before they’re officially together]

imagine ghost has a glasgow smile but on one side they carved a little too deep and left some nerve damage. time and surgery helped, after which he could eat unimpeded and talk without a lisp, but there's still some facial nerve damage and/or skin contractures from scarring, specifically around the corner of his mouth.

now, everytime he smiles, be it shit eating grin or a full genuine joy filled smile that not even grumpy mcgrumperson could hold off, it always looks wrong because one corner doesn't raise fully like the other.

everything else is fine, there isn’t any facial paralysis, he just smiles… wrong. especially since only one eye properly squints when he smiles, giving him the look of someone who got stuck mid wink.

if he wants to look “normal” (or as normal as he could get it) he has to manually squint his other eye. still, it always felt weird; you don't realize how much those muscles affect the rest of your face until they're gone.

it's why he learned to always wear the mask.

when his expression is neutral, you don’t really notice it. if you can see his mouth when he talks however, it’s obvious that there’s something wrong. he wouldn’t say he’s necessarily ashamed of the scars and damage itself, but it’s the stares that are the worst. before he started hiding behind it, people would openly gawk or even glare at him as if he was some ne’er-do-well gang member that got what was coming to him.

he still remembers the cosmetic surgeon that had been talking to him about fixing the contractures— the whole appointment was a fucking nightmare. the cuts had healed nicely enough especially considering how bad it could have been; he was lucky to only need a little cosmetic help. the only reason he was there was so he could fucking eat food without struggling to open his mouth.

the doctor spent god knows how long breaking down everything wrong with his face like he was a fucking car mechanic lying about how dirty your filter is. the guy constantly mentioned that while he was under, they could also fix his jawline, do a rhinoplasty, trying to break him down to agree to more work.

he was already fuming my the time the doc brought up how kids would react. asking ghost if he wanted to scare children since “you cant expect the little youngins that are still learning about the world to not get scared by something scary,” and that “even some adults would cringe at the scarring.”

what stuck out most was the condescending smile he had when he said it. as if he was pointing out the obvious and ghost was being stupid and shortsighted by not agreeing.

he declined everything except what was medically necessary. the procedure went fine and after an aggravatingly long recovery period, he could eat solid foods again without issue. but the comments still stuck with him.

…okay, maybe he’s a little ashamed.

scaring kids with your face doesn’t feel good and being reminded of everything you’ve lost when you try to smile can really fuck you up in a way words fail to describe.

so yeah, he hates it. he’s gotten used to the mask, both skull clad balaclava and simple medical mask, being a permanent layer of armor. even now that he’s a bit more comfortable in his own skin it still feels wrong to pull it off.

when he gets close to soap, it still feels like a layer of vulnerability that he’ll never be prepared for.

the first time he let soap see his face, there hadn’t been any grandiose build up, no extravagant planning.

simon had arrived just a few hours earlier. he hated commercial flights with a burning passion but it was always worth it to see johnny.

with soaps twin out of town for the week, he had decided to take leave to spend time with his friend, a friend that he most certainly did NOT have a crush on (a disclaimer roach and gaz heard everytime they started snickering over ghost taking leave.)

johnny had cooked something nice and simple for dinner, saying that simon had spent too long with MREs and deserved real food (ghost only agreed if he was the one washing the dishes, soap had laughed and told him he's not so kind as to let him off the hook for chores).

when they ate, it was always in the living room with johnny taking care to always stay angled away from simon, never trying to catch a glimpse, regardless of how much he wanted to see what was under the mask. the obvious gesture of kindness and respect for his boundaries always left him feeling all weird and fuzzy inside. but, then again, johnny seemed pretty good at triggering that feeling in general.

their finished plates were on the coffee table and johnny was watching whatever dumb movie he had put on. he was pretty sure the man spent more time talking over it and making fun of everything than he did actually watching it (it was simon’s favorite way to watch a movie.)

ghost however, was watching soap. thinking.

in the end, it was an impulsive decision made after a strong three seconds of consideration.

“you uhm— you can look by the way,” ghost stared at the can of soda in his hands, immediately regretting the words.

“what?” soap didn’t fully turn, just shifted slightly to hear him better. a simple gesture to show he was listening without turning to face him. it normally made simon happy to see that johnny was more than willing to accommodate for his boundaries. now though it made him feel stupid for robbing johnny of a normal face to face conversation, a normal human interaction, just over his idiotic insecurities.

“my face, you—,” he felt his heart block his airway and tried clearing his throat before continuing, “you can look if you want,” christ he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. why was he getting so fucked up over this?

“are you sure?” he hadn’t turned yet, but ghost could see his pensive expression from here. this should be nothing. realistically, he knew johnny seeing his scars wouldn’t suddenly make him hate him… right?

“yes.”

but it was more than the fear of hatred, wasn’t it? he was scared that johnny would see him. see more than just the scars, see all of the ugly idiosyncrasies and insecurities laid bare. afraid that johnny would see the truth of how unlovable he was.

jesus he was getting so fucking worked up and dramatic over nothing.

ghost didn’t look up. he made an effort to not focus on his peripheral vision. he heard soap turn, heard the intake of breath. the silence was loud only for a second. then, deafening white noise surrounded him, inescapable, suffocating.

fuck.

he didn’t regret giving permission but god did he regret everything else; the stupid scars, the stupid nerve damage, the stupid way he had managed to fall for someone so fucking good like johnny while he was unequivocally unworthy of his love.

stop being so fucking dramatic. you are not together, never have been and never will be. reality was blatant in front of him but it didn’t stop his heart from foolishly hoping.

he heard soap stand and walk closer. saw from where he was still staring a hole in the can his feet step in front of his. saw johnny’s hands raise. he took a deep breath in, closed his eyes, and with a great deal of effort didn’t flinch when soaps fingers grazed his cheek.

both of his hands came up to cup his face, holding him and ever so slightly tilting his face up, giving him the chance to pull away. he didn’t. he may be a coward but he wasn’t backing down.

ghost eventually opened his eyes to see soap staring at him with wide eyes. he looked away, staring off to some point on the right. he hated not knowing what soap was thinking.

they stayed there for a while before soap broke the silence, muttering, “i fuckin knew you had freckles.”

it was stupid but it shocked a laugh out of ghost. he meant to drop his head, embarrassed that something so dumb made him laugh, but accidentally just pushed himself further into soaps hands making him blush.

he looked up and saw soap staring even harder than before. the chuckle died in his chest.

“do that again.”

ghost just gave him a confused look.

“smile.”

such a simple request, a one word sentence, but it set his face ablaze. his breath caught in his throat, somewhere around where his heart was still trying to choke him.

…he hadn’t thought it was that bad but soaps reaction indicated otherwise. fuck. was his it that awful? he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. this was stupid. he was stupid.

“simon,” of course, one word from johnny and it felt like he could breathe again.

“please?”

fucking goddamn soap and his stupid fucking puppy dog eyes and the way he has ghost wrapped around his fucking finger without even realizing.

ghost smiled. there was no real mirth, more a grimace than anything else. he just wanted to get this over with.

soap was still staring at him, his thumbs tracing his lips, following scars, drawing imaginary lines between freckles… if he wasn't so terrified it might have felt nice.

“Christ,” ghosts heart cracked more, “you weren't lying when you said you were beautiful.”

ghost huffed a laugh and went back to staring off to the right, the fake smile dropping. of course soap would try to lighten the mood with a joke.

his panic fled as quickly as it had consumed him, now just left sitting in soap's living room, face still cradled in caring hands, resigned to his mistakes.

he felt so tired and johnny's hands felt so inviting.

“i wasn't joking,” soap looked…upset? angry? wait— fuck, what’d he do?

ghost stared back at soap, confused and tired. soaps nails felt the grooves of the scar, catching where the skin was raised and lowered.

“you don't have to lie, soap. im a grown man. I'm not fragile. you don't need to coddle me,” ghost said it like it was a joke, hoping soap would laugh along and that this would all just blow over. that tomorrow morning they could forget this ever happened.

“are you calling me a liar?” soap’s brow furrowed. great. instead, he had managed to make everything worse and piss off soap as well.

ghost took in a deep breath, giving himself another shot at calming things down, “no, I'm not. I think you're lying, but you're not a liar,” he stood and stepped to the side, grabbing their dirty plates and walking them to the kitchen sink, “you just don't want to upset me, it's fine. I get it. you're a nice person but you don't have to lie to spare my feelings.”

“I am not fucking lying!” as per usual, all ghost had managed to do was make things worse. there’s a reason he had decided to stick to the battlefield and give up on domesticity.

“well alright then. agree to disagree,” he turned the kitchen tap and started rinsing the dishes, waiting for the water to heat up. just walk away. end it there. let us forget about this stupid blunder and move on. please just leave it. please, please, please—

“no.”

the force behind it damn near made ghost drop the plate he was holding. he managed to set it in the sink carefully and turned to face soap, who was now in the kitchen as well.

“i— I'm not just gonna fucking— simon,” soap took in a deeper breath and went to continue but ghost was faster.

“johnny,” he interrupted, walking forward with his hands up in a gesture of surrender, approaching slowly.

one last chance to not fuck everything up.

“the fact is they're called deformities for a reason. they're not cute. they're not pretty. they're your body’s way of healing what it can and protecting what it can't. it's not meant to look nice, it's just—”

“bullshit they’re not pretty! says fucking who?” the genuine distress in soap’s voice and force behind his words caught him off guard. “simon—”

he huffed and ran his fingers through his hair roughly, pulling slightly at the strands. christ, ghost needs to shut the fuck up. every single time he speaks he just upsets soap more and more.

he needs to retake his hostage negotiations courses. clearly he has forgotten everything about how to diffuse a situation.

johnny takes another second to breathe and collect his thoughts before he speaks.

“simon. I know that— that ‘this’ isn't something that's going to fix itself overnight and I don't expect it to. but, ‘the fact is,’ I think you're pretty.”

ghost opens his mouth to disagree but johnny doesn’t let him.

“no no,” johnny put his hand over simon’s mouth, shocking him into silence. he blinks twice, stupefied.

“i think— no. I know you're pretty. cute even. beautiful is a given but obviously worth mentioning.”

his hand moved to cup simon’s cheek. ghost grabbed his wrist but didn’t stop him, wether it was a warning or encouragement he himself didn’t know.

johnny continued, unperturbed, “you disagreeing doesn't change that, right?”

there was a pause and simon realized he wanted an answer.

“johnny-”

“ah ah!” his hand moved back to cover his mouth, grabbing his face and shaking his head back and forth, over accentuating his words, “you disagreeing doesn't change that, right? yes or no.”

he stopped shaking him and moved his hand back to simon’s cheek. simon sighed, defeated, “yes. you are right.”

johnny looked smug, “good. and what do you say when i give you a compliment you don’t agree with?”

simon sputtered, “wha— i don't fucking know—”

“nothing! you don’t say anything!” soap looked way too proud of himself and he continued, “or thank you if you feel so inclined.”

“that was a trick question,” simon replied eventually.

johnny thumbed over his scars once more, again tracing them, “sure it was. now go take a shower.”

he patted his cheek twice and walked to the hallway.

“wait,” johnny probably shook the few remaining brain cells out of his head. “this whole conversation ends with you telling me that I stink?”

“yes. rancid,” johnny opened the door to the linen closet. simon was still in the kitchen. the tap was still running.

“no dipshit, do you not remember telling me that commercial planes makes you feel gross?” johnny threw a towel at him, which he caught just in time for johnny to hit him with a bath rag.

ghost had mentioned that… ages ago, he thinks. on facetime with each other, discussing the merits of bathrooms on public transport. he had said that enclosed, crowded spaces like commercial planes or buses made him feel, well, gross. how—or why—did he remember that?

“but… I’m supposed to wash the dishes?” a weak argument against the stubbornness he was faced with but simon had officially lost track of his mind and this conversation.

johnny shot him a weird look as he walked back towards the kitchen sink. simon still hadn’t moved.

“did you think i was being serious earlier?”

“yes???” he felt like he had been given a lobotomy.

johnny decided to take pity on him and explained in a soft voice that felt out of place, “i was being sarcastic. i’m not going to make you wash the dishes, simon.”

“but that was the agreement: you cook and i wash the dishes.”

johnny laughed as if he remembered something funny, “yeah, i lied.”

simon still stood there, trying to figure out if he had a stroke. johnny had been angry, completely pissed at him, but now was letting him off the hook and calling him pretty? what the fuck is happening?

johnny turned him and pushed him towards the hallway. simon could have resisted but his resolve always seems to crumble around johnny mactavish.

“now go shower, you beautiful bastard,” soap grabbed one of the plates out of the sink and started washing it with water that had probably heated ages ago.

ghost walked towards the bathroom, feeling like he was on autopilot, limbs disconnected from his brain. his cheek still felt… odd? weird? tingly?

it felt something from where johnny had grabbed it. ghost thinks… he thinks he likes the feeling, whatever it is.

he needs to sleep.

[neteyamssock]

Not so bad, after all.

╰┈➤ PART IV.

pairing: neteyam x reader/you

summary: when neteyam and you met each other for the first time, they were overwhelmed with feelings they have never felt before.

tags: love at first sight, arranged mateship, forbidden love, etc.

word count: 3.1k

word bank: tsawke = sun

a/n: unedited. will edit later.

TEXT DIVIDER CREDITS TO @/cafekitsune

masterlist

part iii | part v

PART IV.

Neteyam watches as his siblings play in the water while he sits on the sand. You were busy playing with Tuk, diving deep to search for shiny shells and pearls for her braids. In fact, it was you who told Neteyam to rest, and that you’d take care of Tuk and Kiri for him while Tsireya plays with Lo’ak. 

He was not used to it, he’s not built for leisure. However, it didn't seem bad to watch you bond with his siblings. 

Although he still doesn't know what he truly feels for you, he’s content with having fun with you. His mother was right with everything. As long as he knows you're having fun with him, he’s content with that.

He wonders what it makes the two of you now? From strangers to what? Not lovers, but definitely more than friends, right? 

If it was Neteyam from a few weeks before, he probably wouldn't believe what's happening right now. It surely wasn't on his plan to have a… what does dad call it? a situationship? 

Having a situationship in a place he barely knew wasn't something he expected when he and his family left Omatikaya. It has all been confusing, but all he knows is that he feels happy when you're near.

Dealing with discrimination from people like Ao’nung is rough, but you easily made it all worth it. 

What worries him is your supposed arrangement with Ao’nung. Although he knows you do not have any feelings for the latter, what about Ao’nung? Does he like you? 

“Stop thinking so hard, brother. It makes you look older.” Kiri chuckled as she sat beside Neteyam.

Neteyam shook his head. “Done playing?” 

“Um. Tuk seems to love her company though. She didn't wanna leave the water.”

Kiri looked at you and Tuk who’s happily playing on the water, before looking back at her older brother. “Lo’ak isn't wrong you know? You're really obvious. It surprises me, for I never really thought you’d be like this. So… lovestruck…”

Neteyam’s eyes widened. “I’m not lovestruck. Look at Lo’ak, he can't even look away from Tsireya.”

Kiri covered her mouth and stifled her laugh, “Eywa knows you're both the same. The girls back in the forest would be furious to know that the two finest young men have been completely enamored with reef girls.”

Neteyam smiled as he shook his head. He knew that some of the girls in the forest held admiration for him, but he was so used to it. That's why he even began to notice you, because he wasn't used to being ignored and avoided so blatantly like you did when the two of you met. 

He smiled as he remembered the agreement you and him made last night. Perhaps he’ll understand what he feels even more once he gets to spend time with you more.

Kiri looked at his brother and smiled wistfully, remembering a certain someone she hadn't seen for a long time. She missed him so much.

“I say just go have fun, brother. You’d never know when you’ll feel like this again. Perhaps never again. So go for it. Just don't let mother knows.”

“Too late for that. She already know.”

Kiri’s expression morphed into shock. “And you didn't tell me?!”

“I don't think it's really necessary. She just told me things basically same with what you said.”

Kiri pretended to be hurt. “Now I’m hurt. I’m supposed to be the first to know everything!”

“Well, at least Dad doesn't seem to know.”

Kiri giggled. “If mom is on your side, dad’s no longer a problem. You got this, brother.”

“Thanks, Kiri.”

Unknowingly, Lo’ak and Tsireya had disappeared. Neteyam didn't think much about it because he thought the two were probably busy playing around on some corner of the beach. Meanwhile, you and Tuk were already walking back. In Tuk’s hands were colorful shells you picked for her.

“Had fun?” Neteyam hugged Tuk and carried her, smiling as he turned to look at you.

“Yes! She picked a lot of shells for me to weave and put on my braids!”

Neteyam smiled gratefully at you before urging his sister. “That’s so nice. What do you say then?”

Tuk looked at you with a smile as bright as the Tsawke, “Thank you, big sister!”

“You’re welcome, paskalin.” You patted her head and locked eyes with Neteyam for a few seconds before you hurriedly looked away. 

Kiri watched you and Neteyam, rolling her eyes. She’s getting sick of each and everyone of you being so obvious, but too afraid to admit your feelings for each other. She didn’t even know where Lo’ak and Tsireya had gone off too.

“I’ll go first, I need to finish some tasks from the Tsahik. I’m glad Tuk had fun.”

Neteyam smiled at you, before mouthing. See you later.

You silently exited your marui, walking briskly towards the shore, hoping Neteyam was already there waiting for you. The eclipse has just begun, but you were too excited. The reef people sleeps early and rises early, thus you weren’t really worried about someone spotting you. 

To your delight, Neteyam was already there, sitting on the sand, silently waiting for you. You plopped next to him with a wide smile. “Hello there, mighty warrior. Alone? Need some company?”

“I’m sorry but I’m occupied for tonight, a pretty little reef girl asked especially asked for my time.”

“Ah, is that so? What a lucky girl.” You both laughed. Pulling him to stand up, you whistled for your ilu. “Ready to be amazed?”

Neteyam looked at you as he tilted his head. “I’m a mighty warrior, i’m always ready.”

You rolled your eyes and pulled him to sit behind you, your whole body warming up as his arms wrapped around your waist. Closing your eyes, you patted his thigh and ordered your ilu to move forward, diving and speeding through the water.

It didn’t take long for you to reach your intended destination. It was a small floating island not far from the cove of ancestors, with bioluminescent plants and vines growing in it. This was the most similar place to a forest you can think of every time your parents talk about the forest. You know how Neteyam missed the forest, so you wanted share this place with him.

“...This…?”

You smiled, “This is a place I discovered while searching for medicinal plants. I-I hope it’s at least similar to the forest you grew up in…”

Neteyam roamed his eyes, nostalgia apparent in his eyes. “...This place is breathtaking, reef girl…I never knew there would be such place place similar to the forest in the midst of the ocean…”

You watched Neteyam marvel at the beauty of the island, envisioning him in the forest, in his home. You wonder, if not because of the sky demons, would you ever meet Neteyam? Would you cross paths with him in the future, as the Tsahik of the Metkayina and him as the Olo-eyktan of the Omatikaya?

“I’m glad you liked it. I guess this is now OUR secret place.” You turned around, patting the leaves of the plants, making them glow. You can hear Neteyam closing in behind you, his hand snaking into yours.

“Irayo, for showing me a piece of you.” 

You shivered at the heat of his breath in your ears, you turned around to meet his gaze, face too close for comfort.

“Come,” You whispered as you pulled him deeper into the island. After a few turn, a small marui came into your vision. It was the small marui you built in the island so you’ll have a place to stay for as long as you want.

You never expected to bring anyone in this place you consider as your most safest place, a place where you can be yourself with no expectations restraining you. You never thought of bringing Tsireya. Pxasik, you never even thought of bringing Ao’nung here, who’s supposed to be the closest person in your heart. 

“Sit.” You patted the space beside you in the marui. From this position, both of you can see the beauty of the island with your whole eyes. “Oh, Eywa, It’s so pretty.”

“Yeah, pretty like you.”

You flushed, before bursting out laughing. “Why does it sound so funny?”

Neyetam also looked embarrassed, raising his palms up. “It sounds corny, I know. I’m definitely not as good as Lo’ak in this kind of thing.”

You don’t know what corny means, and Neteyam seems to realize. “It means being too unoriginal with your words,”

Throwing your head back in uncontrollable laughter, Neteyam looked even more embarrassed. He never experienced being this embarrassed before. Perhaps since meeting you, he kept experiencing things for the very first time. 

Shaking your head, you mumbled. “It still did its job, so it didn’t really matter if it’s too unoriginal. Only someone like you could pull something like that though.”

Neteyam smiled. This is the first time he was thankful he is good-looking enough. Silence ruled between the two of you, but it didn’t ruin the harmony you have with each other. You didn’t know when you leaned your head on his shoulder, or when his arm wrapped around your waist. 

Looking at the bright stars in the sky, you decided to finally ask. “Neteyam?”

“Hmm?”

“Can you teach me your songchord?”

Both of you know what it means. What significance it has to you relationship with each other, and to the people around you. You know that by asking him this, you are asking him and yourself to make a decision that will change the course of your life forever.  It took a few seconds for him to respond, and those seconds felt like eternity to you. 

“My songchord is long, you’ll get tired singing it.”

“So is mine. I can sing it, Neteyam. I can.”

You felt him shudder, “Very well then. I’ll sing them to you, only if you sing me yours too.”

In his shoulder, you smiled. Your taut body relaxed into his, and his arm around you tightened. As you were about to speak, both of you heard several voice shouting.

“LO’AK!”

Without hesitation, both of you bolted to your ilu, speeding back to the awa’atlu, fear occupying both of your heart for Lo’ak.

“Where were you last night?” It was the first thing Ronal asked you when you entered her healing marui. She wasn’t looking at you, but you knew she’s watching your every movement. You tried hard not to show anything in your face as you answered.

“I couldn’t sleep so I went to the shore and thought about Eywa’s plans for me.”

You heard Ronal sneer, but thankfully she didn’t press on the topic and moved to another. “What did I tell you that day, girl? What happened to watching Ao’nung?”

You closed your eyes. You knew this would come, and you dreaded it. You wanted so badly to scream, but your rationality held your bearings together. “I tried to stop him, he wouldn’t listen.”

Ronal hissed, but you didn’t raise your head. As much as it frustrates you, you respect the older woman as the Tsahik, the matriarch of the clan. She walked towards you, steps quick. You knew that she's a step away from going after your head. “Then what good are you? If you cannot even demand respect from your future muntxatan? If so, then don’t even think about being a Tsahik!”

“He is no longer a child!” You hissed under your breath, finding this situation ridiculous. “I am his future muntxate, not his mother! He almost killed someone! His decisions are his and his alone. His actions spoke for himself, rather than mine. ”

Ronal looked at you with daggers in her gaze, but you didn’t raise your head and remained respectful in your pose. She stared at you for what felt like hours before she turned around. “Very well. You have learned to speak for yourself, no longer a mute that would bend with the waves.”

You remained silent. You knew she wasn’t praising you, but you can feel that her aura has lightened and she was no longer as furious as she was before. You can see her walk around the marui before stopping in front of you. “Look at me, girl.”

You raised your head and looked at Ronal, afraid that she would see through you, and pick up on your thoughts. 

“Take this salve and help my son with his wounds. I’m watching you from now on.”

Holding the jar of salve in your hand, your lips thinned as you walked out of Ronal’s healing marui in quick steps, wanting to be away from the Tsahik’s all knowing eyes. Although against your will, you still walked towards Ao’nung’s marui under the gazes of your clansmen. 

Thankfully, Ao’nung was there, resting. Clearly enough, it wasn’t Neteyam that got the worst out of the fight. Simply thinking about it made you smile.

“What are you smiling about? It’s your fault.” Ao’nung grumbled, sitting up.

You set the salve on the flooring and gave him an annoyed glance. “Now you’re blaming me for your terrible personality and horrible decisions. I wasn’t the one who almost killed Lo’ak.”

Ao’nung gave you a look but you didn’t care and simply applied the salve in his wounds. 

“Ow, it hurts!”

“Then don’t move, skxawng. It’s your fault anyway. Suffer the consequences of your actions.”

His breath quickened. You knew you shouldn’t have said that. His pride wouldn’t take it so well and you knew it. But you still did, because you know the danger Ao’nung subjected Lo’ak into. 

What happened if Lo’ak didn't manage to find his way back? Everyone wouldn’t be in this situation if not for Ao’nung and his friends, who clearly did not have any productive things to do.

“Why are you like this, you’re supposed to be on my side, you know?”

His voice sounded low, genuinely confused. There’s many questions in his eyes you didn’t wanna hear. 

Closing the jar of salve, you replied. “I am on your side, Ao’nung. I tried to warn you many times, remember? I even got myself hurt from trying to stop you. You simply refused to listen.”

Ao’nung shook his head. “Liar. You didn’t even defend me from mother! It must be because of that guy!” He sounded so sure that it almost made you laugh in anger.

“Oh Eywa! It seems that there's no use in trying to reason with you. You refuse to listen, and the Tsahik cannot fault me for that.” You stood up to leave, but he held your arm.

“So it’s true! You doing this for him! You didn't even deny it!”

“You almost killed someone, Ao’nung!”

You're at the end of your patience. With force, you took your arm out of Ao’nung’s grip and glared at him. “I do not understand you, Ao’nung. Grow up.”

Without waiting for his response, you walked out of his marui and walked quickly back to your own, heaving in anger. 

“Sister? Why are you so angry? What happened?”

You didn't notice when Tsireya appeared on your side, but her mere presence immediately eased some of your anger. You often wonder what Eywa was thinking when she created Tsireya and Ao’nung, so different from each other.

“Ao’nung happened. That's what.” You huffed, earning a sad laugh from Tsireya. She must be pretty shaken up too, knowing how close she is to Lo’ak. She grabbed your hand and held it tightly.

“I apologize for my brother. He’s a knucklehead.”

Knucklehead? “What’s a knucklehead?”

Tsireya giggled as if waiting for you to ask that question. “Lo’ak said it means a stupid person. Ao’nung is a knucklehead.”

With a chuckle, you nodded a few times. “Right. It does fit. He’s a knucklehead.”

Of course it didn't escape your eyes how Tsireya glowed in mere mention of the second sully boy’s name. Most of the anger you felt was gone, so you smiled and decided to prod a bit deeper this time. 

“How is he? Is he okay?”

Tsireya sighed. “Thank Eywa, he’s fine. He said he faced an akula. Poor boy,”

“An akula?!” Your anger at Ao’nung came to life again. You cannot wrap it in your head how reckless Ao’nung was in leaving a defenseless boy in the middle of the ocean. Knowing Lo’ak was almost at Eywa’s doorsteps, your blood boiled.

“Ao’nung that skxawng! I’m going to kick him! I’ll take him to apologize again!”

Tsireya pulled you back. “Let them sort it out themselves, tsmuke. Ao’nung is no longer a child. As for Lo’ak, he said something saved him. He didn’t tell me what it was, he said he’ll tell his story tomorrow.”

You looked at Tsireya and sighed. If Lo’ak’s beloved says its okay, then it’s okay. You trust Tsireya. Now that she had almost lost Lo'ak, you wonder if they had made it official. “So, is it official? Lo’ak seems totally interested in you. Even I who’s a bit denser in terms of love, noticed it.”

“Surely, you jest sister?”

Rolling your eyes as you enter your marui, “Do I look like I’m jesting? With your closeness, all you need is to ask Eywa’s blessings.”

Tsireya was quick to reply, “If that is so, then what about you and Neteyam? You must've confessed to each other already, am I right?” 

You choked on your saliva. Tsireya said it in a jesting tone, not expecting for you to react this way. You picked up a woven ball and threw it at her, hissing. “What on Eywa are you talking about?!”

Tsireya dodged the ball easily, scooting closer to you and looking at you straight in the eyes. The amusement in her was gone, replaced by seriousness that made you nervous. “Sister, I saw you.” 

Your breath hitched as chill crept up your spine. You weren't able to respond, and she doesn't seem to mind as she continues. 

“...You look really happy with him. I have never seen you smile like that before.”

It was as if you couldn't breathe. She saw it. She saw you. She saw you with Neteyam. She saw you with an unmated male na’vi in the dead of the eclipse. 

Tsireya took your hands into hers, feeling your cold and shivering hands, she whispered. “Do you like him, tsmuke?”

You stood up. You wanted to deny what Tsireya said, but you cannot find your voice as your promise to Neteyam echoes in your ear. 

 I can sing it, Neteyam. I can.

“...So what if I do? What if I like him?”

“Like who?”

It was Ao’nung who interrupted your conversation, and you felt your breath escaping you.

[bellarkeselection]

Cross My Heart Promise

Gif belongs to @miyagiverse

Request from Wattpad Treassuredavis33 reader has cancer and is in the hospital while Cole is her boyfriend she tells him to promise her something on her almost deathbed.

Tag list- send me an ask to be added @cognacdelights @connieisthesun @bbabycass

The Walter family had been forced to remain in the living room by Cole’s request when I collapsed on our date out tonight. I tried to lie and say it was nothing but now there was no way of keeping it a secret. He would know sooner rather than later I suppose now. Laying in the hospital bed I had an iv in my left arm. My hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail done by my boyfriend. “Y/n, I finally got the doctors to let me see you. What’s wrong?”

Cole came into the room dragging a chair right up to my bedside where I could see true concern in his green eyes. “Cole, I’m fine. I just…how much did the doctors tell you?”

“Nothing. They said that they will only talk with your parents or relatives. So what exactly is going on?” He asked me running his fingers through his hair.

Laying my head further back against the pillow I sighed tiredly. For our date we went riding out on horses like we did on our first date. He was riding in front of me while I felt myself getting dizzy and I fell off my horse. “I should have told you before now. I just didn’t know how you would react or if I could handle telling you what is going on because it scares me really bad…” I felt tears falling down my face getting emotional over this.

Unfortunately at the age that I am the doctor found out that the cancer that my mother had was passed down to me. My hair had started thinning meaning that it would start falling out soon. “Hey, hey, don’t cry on me. Just tell me what’s going on and I can try to fix it.” He reached forward, wiping away tears that had fallen.

“You can’t fix what is going to happen, Cole. So I decided that we should just end things now before we get too involved with each other.” I admit avoiding his gaze.

He shook his head confused. “Why would we end things? I know I’m not good at the whole boyfriend thing but I don’t want to break up with you.”

“Cole, we really can’t afford to be together anymore. I’m not good for you -“ He cut me off climbing up to sit on the edge of the bed and holding my face in his hands so I’d look him in the eye.

“That’s ridiculous Y/n. If anything I am not good for you. I normally do hookups and commit with girls. Until I met you…I want a real relationship with you.”

Blinking through my eyes I sniffed. “You’d want to be with someone who has cancer?”

“That’s what you weren’t wanting to tell me. Why did you think you couldn’t tell me about something? That’s a big deal to have cancer.” Cole declared in a baffled tone,

Shaking my head I felt more tears coming down. “Be for real, Cole. You don’t want to date someone who has cancer. You’re the popular guy at school and could have anyone else. I understand that so I’m ending this so you don’t have to deal with all the stress later down the road.”

“What makes you think that I’d want to break up with you over that? I don’t care about my reputation. It's ridiculous to me that people don’t consider I might be more than the guy who sleeps around.” He rests his forehead against mine. “I’d want to be with you no matter what Y/n L/n.”

Placing my head against his chest he wrapped his arms around my waist. We let silence fill the hospital room. He had his whole family in the room and they had all been concerned since I had a relationship with each of them. Cole kissed my forehead hearing me sniffing through some more tears.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I was just afraid you’d walk away from me.” I mumbled into his brown jacket clutching my fingers on his forearms.

Cole slightly pulled away from me and I saw some tears coming down his face too. “I’d never leave you because of your illness. I freaking have feelings for you so bad that I don’t want anything bad to happen to you. I want to make you happy and everything else. So you’d never be just a hook up to me.”

“I can’t believe you’re sticking around for me, Cole. I….I want a real relationship with you too.” I wrapped my arms around him in a tight hug and he hugged me back blinking away more tears.

A few minutes later he felt me draw away from him where he tilted his head downward to my gaze. “What’s wrong, Y/n?”

“Now that we talked about my situation there’s something I want to ask of you.” I trailed off and he nodded letting me keep talking. “I need you to promise me something important. I need you to promise me that you’ll be nice to Jackie if things get worse for me.”

Cole shakes his head not wanting to think about the worst happening. “Things aren’t going to get bad for us. Not while we are together.”

“I know you don’t want to talk about that. I don’t either but it is possible. So promise me, promise me that you will be nicer to her. She doesn’t deserve someone being mean to her after the trauma she has to deal with….so as your girlfriend I’m asking that you promise me this.” Squeezing his shoulder blades in my nails he didn’t waste a second in kissing me slowly.

I leaned into the kiss lightly smiling and he broke it whispering under his breath. “We’re gonna get through this, Y/n. But I do promise to be better around her for you.”

“Thank you, Cole. I appreciate it…” I smiled feeling him climb in on the other side of the bed once I scooted over. Cole wrapped his arms around me and I cling onto his embrace before we just let silence fill the room. Not wanting to talk about the struggles of me having cancer just yet. So we remained just holding onto one another for comfort.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[hearts-4-vicky]

ugh this girl shes so cute like… im actually so down BAD its not even funny

Hi my loves🫶🏼 this was supposed to be longer n come quicker but i forgot to save my draft n i was so fucking done UGHHHH.. I just wanted to put something out for you guys as a thank you for all the support my last post got❤️❤️❤️ I never thought id be postin on here but 😛

anyway, tall! bodyguard! fem reader x wonyoung has been taking over my mind lately yall dont even understand 😭🙏 (this isnt proofread cuz im so done, so sorry my loves if theres something wrong😔)

lets say ur a bit older than Yujin (like by a couple months) n ur first official job as a bodyguard is to make sure Ive makes it to a pop up event safely😝 Starship hired so many of u guys because sasaengs have been appearing more frequently than before. So here comes you and like nearly 3 dozen more guards though you stand out due to how tall u r😍😍😍(like taller than 6’4 cuz babygirl wony is already tall asf😔🙏) n your build (muscular women r so fine UGHHHH)

You and the rest of the squad were walking to the girls big ass dressing room, though you felt many eyes on you. Its something you’re used to, always being the tallest in the room (cant relate😭) Arriving at the dressing room door gets you a bit nervous since you know how big ive is as a group and how stunning they are😍😍😍 Once you guys were given the green light to enter, you need to lean down to fit through the door. seeing this, one of your colleagues snickers, making you roll your eyes.

Ive’s manager introduces you and the rest of your crew to the members, short n sweet. As their manager was just giving a brief run down abt whats gonna happen once you guys arrive, Wonyoung notices you. You were much taller than her and stronger too from what she can see😍 baby girl would be so shocked since most girls shes met have never been taller than her🥺 She was so focused on you that she didnt notice how one of her members eyes were also glued to you😛

ur bitch ass was zoning the fuck out but still kinda listening to the manager but you noticed how drop dead gorgeous the members were (same) though you were always drawn to the tallest member. Her beauty had you practically fawning over her that you didnt even notice the rest of the squad (ayeee pull up wit da gang😝😝😝😝 im so sorry) left to go to the vans you all arrived in😭 Flustered at this, you jog to the door to catch up, hitting your head on the doorframe in the process 🥺🥺🥺 You hear giggles after, but failing to notice how Wonyoung’s eyes were full with concern. Whimpering at the slight sting, you hold your head while still trying to catch up with the rest.🥺🥺🥺

Wonyoung watches as you disappear into the distance, pouting as she hears her members talk about how cute you were🙏 she starts paying attention after hearing yujin ask if they was a chance you were single😭 “Maybe, but not after im done talking with her..” Gaeul says proudly, though its short lived as Wonyoung hears Rei respond “Unnie, she’d have to go her her knees to kiss yo-“YAH!” The room fills with laughter as the eldest sulks in her spot, mumbling how unfair life is. Wonyoung’s mind goes back to you, not wanting to hear her members talk about how they want to get to know you more😜

timeskip to the event cuz im SICK AND TIRED OF THIS APP.

You and the other bodyguards line up behind each side of the rope safety barriers (is that what its called…) You were near entrance of the building and could already seen waves of people try to get a glimpse of the idols that were soon to arrive

As the van pulls up you can hear the crowd getting louder by the second. They only get louder as the girls start to come out, first with Yujin, then Gaeul, Rei, Wonyoung, Liz, and lastly Leeseo. Camera flashes and screams fill the air as the girls walk to the entrance of the building. They do their best to get there in a short amount of time while also interacting with fans

It was going smoothly, with the three eldest already at the door, waiting for the other members. Wonyoung was just a couple steps away from them before a man grips her wrist and pulls her closer to him. She tries to fight back but he is much stronger, tightening his already harsh grip. You act quickly, making the man let go and shoving him as hard as you can. He has a pissed off look on his face but it soon turns to fear as he sees you towering over him. The man nearly shits his pants after you bend your knees to be at eye level with him, hearing you call him the harshest words that come to mind.

After that, you let another bodyguard deal with the man as you turn your body to face the shaking girl. (babygirl was a bit scared cuz u seemed so pissed🥺🥺🥺) Your eyes soften at her state, shes frozen in her spot with widen eyes. Wonyoung focuses on you as you lean down to quietly talk to her. Her eyes are pretty is the first thing that comes to Wonyoung’s mind. She gazes upon your features for what feels like years, her admiration soon turning into attraction for you as she holds her now red wrist. You notice this, cursing the man in your head as you take a closer look at her wrist. holy fuck that shit is red, you meet her eyes once more, taking note on how hers seem to shine in the sunlight. “Are you feeling alright, Miss Jang?” you say in a sweet, soft tone. Wonyoung feels her heart start to race at how soft you are with her, a big contrast to how you acted to the man (duh)

“Oh-Yes! I’m okay, just a bit shaken up..” Wonyoung didnt respond right away since your warm aura made her start to relax. You nod, “Do you want me to escort you to the door?” She starts to nod, but is interrupted by her members rushing to her side asking her if shes okay. You step back, giving them their time but also waiting for her answer. After Wonyoung reassures them that shes fine she turn to you, nodding to your question from before. You failed to notice how her cheeks flushed a light pink as you walked behind her to the door🥺🥺🥺

time skip cuz its literally 1:30 am rn….

You didnt just walk her to the door but instead everywhere. You would only leave her side if she needed to take photos or use the restroom (though you were right outside the door just in case) You were following her around like a velcro puppy (clingy dog) 🥺🥺 Wonyoung thought you were so cuteee😭 she thought you were like a newfoundland puppy cuz ur so big UGH🥺 She watched as your eyes practically sparkled whenever you say something you liked or if someone brought up a topic you were interested in❤️❤️❤️ Babygirl was falling for you so hard rn

As the event was coming to an end, she wanted to go to the restroom before they left (it was an excuse to get you alone with her🫶🏼) She stopped right in front of the ladies door, making you confused. Wonyoung turns to you, leans toward you while slipping a piece of paper in your hand. She ran away shortly after to go to the rest of her members. It all happened so fast you were slow to comprehend what just happened. Reliving the moment for a few seconds you realizing she had kissed you on the cheek.

You place your empty hand over the cheek, now adored with a lipstick mark, as you smile like a dumbass😭 you hear your name being called to leave as well but before going over there, you read the note.

“Yn, I just wanted to thank you for making me feel safe and for getting to know me. I hope we meet again, as friends or maybe more?

XXX-XXX-XXXX

-Wonyoung <3”

You nearly fainted reading that last part.

OH MY GOD THIS TOOK SO LONG💀

guys if u ever write on this app MAKE SURE YOU SAVE PLEASE…. (my asks r open if u want this to be continued or if u wanna request something❤️)

kk love you guys🫶🏼 be safe, and have a good day❤️

[starker-raving-mads]

For You: Part I

This is for @spiderlinging who decided this level of angst needed to exist.

Have thoughts on a follow up, unsure if I'll do it.

Edit: decided to make this multi-parted.

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX

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It had been a week since the last battle with Thanos. A week since the Blipped had returned everyone, a week since Peter awoke to Dr. Strange leading him through a portal straight into battle.

A week since Tony died.

It's all Peter can think about. The only thing he can think about. Not how traumatizing two battles back to back was, not the chaos and insanity of war, not even of how happy he should be that May and Ned and MJ are actually okay.

Instead, it's Tony, Tony, Tony. His thoughts had revolved around the older man for years now, so it wasn't new. But normally it was excitement, arousal, anticipation, joy. Now, though, it's hugging him as he felt like he was being ripped apart by the Blip. The joy of finding him and being dragged to him in a fierce hug, mid-battle, the billionaire's hands running through his hair. His voice, soft and full of this sort of grieving happiness.

"Peter," he'd said, "oh god, Peter."

And finally it was Mr. Stark's face as he sat dazed against a piece of wreckage amidst the chaos. How blank his eyes were, how little of the man was left, barely hanging on.

That face haunted his dreams, the emptiness filling up his nightmares.

And now here he was, at a lake house he could've never seen Tony living in, with people around him crying and mournful. Like they'd lost a friend when Peter felt like he'd lost a limb. Like his whole heart was being shoved out onto that lake with the last part of Tony Stark he'd ever get to see. Behind him, Happy was talking quietly to Morgan, Tony's kid - Peter's goddaughter, apparently.

He never knew you could make a dead person a godparent before, but there's a lot of things Peter never knew.

Like the thing is - Peter thought he knew grief, knew loss. His parents when he was a kid, Uncle Ben just after he'd gotten his powers. These were huge, space-taking people in his soul but losing Tony? Losing Tony was worse than anything he'd ever experienced before. He felt bad about it, sometimes. Because shouldn't his family have been the ones that meant the most, hurt the most? But then again, Tony had been everything. He'd always sort of thought he loved Tony in the way someone might love an idol, like his feelings were somehow offset by hero worship and being a teenager but it was so much more than that.

It might've started off that way, but after years of knowing him, being his friend through tough times and glad ones - it morphed along the way without him really noticing it. Got deeper, got more meaningful with every lab session and every time Tony said, "Just stay the night kid, you know where your room is. Aunt Hottie doesn't need to be woken up at 3AM with you coming home anyway."

The teen thought he'd cried every ounce of pain from him in the week since the battle, but as his eyes misted up again, he turned and headed around the back of the cabin. It was empty of people on this side and he slid down in the corner where the porch extruded out of the building. Hands covering his face, barely aware of the rotting, damp leaves under him. He just needed a minute to get it together. Just one minute and he'd -

A sound of footsteps approaching, light ones, made him stand back up again and wipe his face free of tears. He knew from experience that his eyes would be a horrible red against how pale his skin was, but there was nothing to be done about it.

Around the corner came Pepper in her funeral clothes, looking at him blankly. It was clear she'd been looking for him but he couldn't figure out why. They just stared at each other for a second, neither moving, and as the moments ticked on he got increasingly uncomfortable and awkward around this powerhouse of a woman he'd never really spent time with.

"Sorry, I just needed to step away for a - "

"He did it because of you, you know," she said, voice as neutral as her face. He blinked at her.

"I'm sorry, what - ?"

"He did it for you." And there was the anger. Her face transformed with it, skin flushing a red that clashed with her hair in a way that was still, somehow, beautiful. It was easy to see why Tony picked her out of everyone. Before he could say anything, she continued. "He told me," she said, tears clouding her voice, nose stuffing up with emotion, "that he'd figured it out. Figured out how to save everyone."

She laughed and it was the most hateful sound he'd ever heard. Shaking her head, smiling in a way that said 'fed up', she said, "But I knew. I knew he didn't do it to be the savior of humanity. His ego was always big, and he was always willing to sacrifice if he thought the price was worth it." She stopped again and stared at him, face contorting.

"He saved a lot of people," Peter agreed, spidey-sense screaming at him and he didn't know why. Every hair on the back of his neck stood on end, and he felt like he was being bombarded. It was nauseating.

"He didn't save people, Peter," she screeched, stomping toward him, hand fisted around a cloth handkerchief, finger pointing at his face. "Tony's ego was always enough to think he could save the world," she continued, voice as mad as a wolf's growl, "but he didn't do it for them. He did it for you." She hissed out, "He kept your picture in the kitchen and just stared at it - all the time! Stared at it like you were some missing part of him and if he just looked long enough you'd reappear." She laughed again, rolling her eyes.

Behind her, a crowd was appearing. Sam and Bucky first, eyes scoping out the situation like the heroes they were. Then Happy, peaking around. The other teenager - Harley, Peter remembered - was further back, near the trees, watching with a ducked face, riveted.

"Tony saved the universe," she agreed, voice even more watery. "But he didn't do it for them - he did it for you." She had moved forward enough now to jab her finger into his chest. "He could've killed everyone with his stupid time travel bullshit," she spat, jabbing harder. "He could've undone reality with it, he could've made it to where Morgan never existed." She sobbed and the anger started to drain from her, head bending. "But it didn't matter as long as he got you back." She sobbed again and as much as his heart was rending itself atom by atom by what she was saying, he couldn't fault her anger, her rage, her sadness.

He stepped forward and she dropped onto him, letting him hold her weight up as she continued to sob.

"He did it for you."

And Peter had never heard anything worse in his entire, fucked up existence.

How was he ever going to live with himself now, knowing this.

How?

[08melancholie]

(Just a warning, non-con is mentioned in this but I’m not talking about it in a graphic way)

I wanna yap, and you’re the only person I know who will most likely agree with me, so get ready

Okay so I wanna talk about how people use that news paper clipping (will add it below)

If you can’t read it, the basic summary is Micah and his father killed a farmer and his wife. Micah the second(I’ll just call him Micah the second) was 38 and Micah was 17 years old, from what we know from the game and Micah literally saying it himself that his father was a bad man, and we have no idea what his mother was like, maybe she was mistreated by his father, Left or was bad too. Anyways back to the original conversation is that no 17 year old is gonna kill someone without being influenced to do it, obviously Micah the third was pressured by his father to kill people. He says it himself, “my daddy said sympathy is for the weak” so his father most likely groomed him into crime (or whatever word you use for that) and his brother Amos luckily got away from that mess and started a family. It’s obvious that Micah the third was influenced by his father.

off topic I wanna talk about his relationship with his brother

Micah brother doesn’t exactly hate him, and something I wanna talk about is that Micah is atheist and Amos is Christian, Amos had the chance to change from being a outlaw but Micah didn’t because his brother didn’t want Micah near him anymore. So Micah continued on the outlaw path, I wish we knew more about the bell family.

And last but not least, I wanna talk about some of the narcissistic people in the fandom and how stupid they sound.

“Micah is a grapist” The thing is, we don’t know that and nobody in the fandom knows that he is or isn’t, it’s not confirmed and it’s a theory. Also we don’t know if he actually did it with Jenny, he could’ve been lying just to gain attention and we don’t know if it was non-con or not. “His looks give off pervert vibes” that’s a bit odd to say considering his actor looks like him? It’s really rude to say too, it’s kinda sad how Peter got death threats and people say “That’s how you know he plays good as a villain” that’s how you know people are too sensitive to be playing a game about outlaws

Yet again, they don’t call out any other characters for it? Like Dutch, bill, and Javier and harass people for liking Micah.

“Micah’s racist and you support his actions!” That’s the way Micah was brought up, although it’s still wrong and nobody supports it. Do they support Arthur killing people? No I don’t think they do

Sorry gang I had to yap

OKAY WOW THERES A LOT TO UNPACK HERE lets do it

more after the cut <3

Firstly, I do absolutely agree on Micah's upbringing. I have a brief post on it already ("Upbringing.") and I very much think that his dad set him up for failure very early on, giving him no chance to pick his path himself.

Amos and Micah were both influenced by their father as all three did crimes together, but Amos was lucky enough to get himself out of it, while Micah sadly couldn't. That's the very reason I think Micah ended up killing his own father; never having a chance to choose his own path.

Now, I don't blame Amos for disliking Micah, but I wish there was just a little sympathy he had for his brother, because he himself was in Micah's shoes for a good portion of both of their lives.

Unrelated: I find it very interesting Amos is the only on here that has his own name, and isn't Micah IV or something. Do you think this also influenced something between the two of them, that made them more distant? I know I would be pissed if my brother got his own name, while I had to continue family tradition. Just a thought.

Now, the Jenny Kirk situation is very tricky; we don't get much information about it. All he really says is that he 'had her', said she was a 'dirty little thing', how he felt for Lenny because he 'got her before he could', and last how she 'might have been carry Micah IV.', but that's really it.

We don't get anything else from Micah about it, or in the game in general. That really means it's left for interpretation of the fandom, which we know most will say that it was a non-con situation. Now—maybe a little controversial—I don't think that he necessarily assaulted her. I mean, he isn't ugly to everyone. Let's talk camp interactions; he fake-flirts with Susan Grimshaw, who plays into it. Would she be doing that if she thought him unattractive? I don't think so. Then again, I do wish we had some confirmation on this, like with other characters (Colm, Dutch etc.)

While on topic of that, I want to mention another thing. Whether or whether not Micah is a rapist, I think the fact that Dutch is confirmed to be one in RDR1 is just wayyy too overlooked, while everyone makes their speculations and accusations on Micah through a singular interaction with him. In RDR1, when Dutch is being described, one of the names is 'rapist' and I wish that more people talked about that, and not so much Micah's that isn't even hinted at to be an assault. But, to each their own.

Small edit: This was still wrong of Micah, considering Jenny's age. It's not exactly known, but she was very young (17-21) and absolutely out of his age range. Even if consensual between the two of them, it was very prominent that she was way too young to have sex with him, and that's on him as the older one in the situation.

Peter Blomquist getting sent threats was proof he could play an amazing villain, and it makes me pretty sad to think people don't know how to separate the character from his actor. It was pretty immature to send him literal threats, and I still sometimes see comments on his instagram, which is just insane. It's been years, and we still act this immature?

As far as Micah's racism comments go, the root is most likely also his father. But, I can't much excuse him there because I myself grew up around some very vulgar language about people of color. Not to forget, with me being Croatian, I was around when people still talked ill of Serbs because of the war. But, even as a very impressionable kid, I was able to grow myself out of it. I never spoke ill of Serbs or people of color. (Briefly while I was still around 12, but I feel that can be overlooked.) I think it's possible to change your views, and this is one of the few things where I can't much find a way to defend Micah, but I'll take into consideration his upbringing and the fact that during the Western times, a heap of people were practically all racist.

They may see themselves as vigilantes, but everyone in the gang is a bad person, that has done/is doing bad things. Micah is a bit more ruthless, that much I'll admit. But again, another ideal of his fathers and how he was brought up. "My daddy always said, sympathy is for the weak." He says even more lines like these, spreading his fathers' bad teachings because that's what he knows. But, I do find it very intriguing that he still spreads his fathers' word, even after killing him himself. Oh, Micah; my fellow daddy-issue-haver.

Yapping session completed chat, also good morning!!! I just woke up and saw this long ass ask and immediately rose to my feet. I love yapping with you guys <3

[goodluckclove]

clove my kind comrade. i have a very emotional writing advice question for you. this turned kinda long, i apologize

i've been working on college applications these last few months, with the majority of that time taking the form of essay writing. and in these months it has been discovered that, at least to my dad's standards, my normal nonfiction prose writing skills are absolutely abysmal. i would write a draft, think i had everything pretty much shiny and complete, only to have everything i had worked so hard to finish absolutely picked to shreds by my dad and told i needed to start over. and there's nuance to this; i do quite literally forget a lot of writing tips and processes that worked for me, and it took last week's adhd diagnosis 17 years too late for me to stop hating myself for not being able to write a 300 word essay in a week. but this has left deep scars on my psyche and sent me for the most intense mental heath loop ive had in years.

that all contributed to a very intense anxiety ive developed about writing. i'll open a wip (or hell start writing an ask) and i will feel such a sense of dread. it's like i'm reaching into an oven that i know i've burned myself on so many times before. i can barely write a sentence before i start overthinking things too much and give up. this is specifically talking about my own personal writing. five minutes ago i opened my most self-indulgent wip that only four people on earth would ever be allowed to see and felt such an overwhelming fear of "what if it's bad". "what if it doesn't read this way to people". i've never had that before. i write what i write, and it's generally pretty damn good. but the anxiety i have about these stupid college essays has bled into MY work, MY own fun projects.

essentially, what i'm asking you is if you can offer any advice of how to conquer this anxiety. i know that an essay and a gay little fanfiction are fundamentally different things that cannot be equated with each other, and i know that other people's opinion on what is ultimately a self indulgent project can be easily and happily disregarded. but i can't have a self indulgent project if i can't even bring myself to physically write it.

this turned into a vent lmao. i hope you and Wife and the cats are doing splendidly.

Hi Bas! This ask made me deeply angry when I read it last night! Shame from artists, especially young artists just starting out in life and in their craft, apparently provokes a pretty deep rage in my soul.

I'm fine now. I'm at a coffee shop. Thank you for a pretty vulnerable and heartfelt insight into your brain-space, and I'm going to give it a pretty long and ramble-y response because that's what it deserves - and honestly, you've known me for long enough that I'm sure you kind of assume this is what's coming. Before that, though, I get the sense you're pretty anxious and drained. In the name of meeting your sincerity I would like to offer a look at the drawing my surrogate child demanded I draw for them after they saw the terrible Sonic the Hedgehog I drew from memory last night. Their prompt was "T4T Sonic/Shadow"

What do you think? I gave Shadow a wallet chain. I've never drawn fan art before but I do think going forward I'm going to give most, if not every famous IP I draw a wallet chain. This made me grin a lot because it's so fucking weird. Also it's not canon. Canonically Shadow would not smoke a blunt. Canonically Shadow the Hedgehog vapes.

Okay I made myself properly silly time for business. Come follow me into a hypothetical situation so I can talk to you (and anyone in your position - which is a lot of people your age) more intimately.

Okay, so I'm at a new coffee shop. It's open concept, fairly minimal an industrial in decor. I'm in this seated nook in the back at a bench by a large round table. The lighting is soft. There's a lot of plants and the baristas are like kind of anti-social which usually means the coffee is going to be great or pretty bad. Luckily it's the former - I got this iced maple cardamom latte. They have other drinks too. Tea. Your usual coffee varieties. They have a rosemary syrup you can put in lattes that I might try if I feel like I want another coffee later. Take my card and order something. I'll wait here.

You're back? What'd you get?

Mm. Fuck. I should've gotten that too. Nevermind, it's fine. I'll probably come back here again.

Okay, so college essays. I'm going to go ahead and just open by saying that college essays are absolutely not the same as nonfiction prose. Flat out, end of sentence. They're aren't apples and oranges - it's like comparing an apple and a used 2007 Honda Accord.

Good nonfiction means different things to different people. I personally enjoy a bit of humor and love for a subject, even if it's mundane to most of society. My wife prefers a Wikipedia-level of dry Academia. Different strokes.

College admission essays, however, are not good. They're really not. From a vague amount of research it seems this has been an issue for decades now.

You can still write like a bad college essay, don't get me wrong. Something riddled with typos or dribbled out by a generative AI. But if you look a little bit at what the people who actually check applications are, it seems the spectrum isn't "bad to great" as much as it is "bad to fine". My own college essay was some bullshit about how I learned about myself and the world around me by going to the grocery store before school and buying a baguette to have for lunch. It was stupendously mediocre. I got into college.

There's a lot of reasons for this. It could be because the average 17-18 year old isn't given the tools or opportunity to write really solid nonfiction - probably because the society we live in doesn't expect them to have anything to contribute in that way, but that's beside the point. You're taught essays. Ways to format papers that, from what I gather, only really apply in academic settings. When I was in high school the average essay had pretty stark parameters students were expected to follow, and from what I've heard those parameters have only gotten more specific.

With all that in mind, I understand why you're freaked out. If you look up tips on solid college essays the advice is like just comically vague. Be authentic! Focus on deeper themes! Pose a philosophical question! That last one actually made me laugh out loud when I read it, because it's so insanely discordant compared to how I've seen people you're age be treated. To go straight from people assuming you need your hand held on nearly anything to having a person say "Hey solve nihilism in 450 words " is baffling.

There's real advice in this odd, clickbait-y quips. You shouldn't feel like you have to play a character or pretend to be something you don't want to do, because that comes across in the text pretty easily. You should consider exploring a topic, because it reveals more about you as a person and that's valuable to the application as a whole. You - I'm going to go out and say you don't need to pose any sort of philosophical quandary at all, actually. That's a pretty wild thing to ask a huge portion of New Adults to be able to do.

So this isn't nonfiction. This isn't a think piece or a memoir, even though people might compare it to both. This is closer to a cover letter. You should still try, but do so knowing this is separate from your skills as a writer. Once you do that, you'll hopefully be able to relax enough to actually let your character slip into the work. What you mainly want to do is express a sense of your voice and sort of imply an idea of the type of presence you would be as a student at your school of choice. That's the point of the application as a whole. It's not going to win a Pulitzer. It would be truly, very weird if an admissions essay won a Pulitzer.

The other thing that I think might be making you and people in your shoes feel crazy is that you're in the period of your life when a lot of adults around you are going to say just the wackest nonsense. Oh this application determines the rest of your life! The stakes have never been higher! This is your future! You're setting the entire course of the rest of your life right now, somehow!

That obviously is also not true. Next year will be a decade since I graduate high school, and I still actually have no idea why some people had that level of intensity. It strikes me as incredibly counter-productive. I explained this to my kid, and they were shocked when I told them how many paths there are to get a higher education. You can get your first few years at a community college and then go to a university. You can go to a polytech school (They make them for the arts too! my brother went to Cogswell and it was such a cool campus) and get straight into industry experience. You might get into a university and transfer to a different one because it has a better program or opportunity.

All of these are cool. Not going to college is also cool, although it comes with other pitfalls. You can also go to college later on down the line. If you haven't figured it out yet, existing in the world is actually really flexible and open in terms of life choices. A college application, essay included, is not likely to play a huge part in the grand scheme of your life. The results of this will give you a sort of better understanding of your options for a plan for the next - like - year, maybe? It won't even determine it. It's more of a cool, maybe or a cool, I guess not right now situation.

It's also way harder for most people to work with a smaller word count. Less words mean less margin for error. That's stressful. You aren't a failure for struggling to write 300 words in a week when you can't choose the parameters of the writing, can't change the deadline, and probably have a bunch of people saying how crazy important all this is. Those are batshit work conditions for someone who doesn't have ADHD.

For someone who does, I can see how easily this would warp the perspective you have on everything else you do. Being picked apart by someone who hasn't been where you are in like 20+ years but still expects you to take their words as gospel? Confusing! Maybe feeling the inexplicable need to compare yourself to any published nonfiction you've read and loved, even though this isn't even nonfiction - and if it was, those writers have definitely been working in the genre longer than just goddamned now.

I think I've told a few people your age that this is the point where you kind of have to pick and choose how often you listen to the adults in your life. That feels irresponsible for me to say, but I do stand by it. When it comes to the transition between high school and college, most established adults are just crazy biased. Maybe because they raised you. Maybe because they're blinded by nostalgia and think that high school was the best part of their lives. Maybe they aren't familiar with the work you want to go into and what's needed to get a start in it. Or they could just straight up not understand how the college system works now.

It is such bullshit that you eventually have to craft a sense of internal intuition out of essentially nothing but it is a thing. It takes time, though. I won't pretend like you can make it happen immediately right now.

What matters is that you're okay. I promise you that - you're okay. Looking you straight in the eye, Bas, you're a good writer. Not "good for your age", I have read enough of your actual writing to know that you're pretty solid already. I've also read enough of your posts and had conversations with you to know for certain that if you wanted to pursue nonfiction you'd be pretty good at it right off the bat. This would be under the usual standards of a nonfiction writer, of course - meaning you get to pick the length, subject, and when you finish it.

You are in the unfortunate period of going through multiple transitions at once. It's hard enough to navigate the way relationships change when people decide (or struggle to process) how you're an "adult" now (also not really true in a lot of ways, but that's another ramble). But going so long under the assumption of having a Default Brain Experience and then realizing that all of the struggles you assumed were normal are actually an imbalance of chemicals is jarring.

It's treatable, yes. Once you get on a medication that helps with the dopamine everything is immeasurably easier, holy shit. But even then it's still painful at times because the difference is so palpable you sometimes stop and think why did it take so long for me to be able to have this? Why did no one see I was struggling? That was my experience, at least.

This is a crucial point in life where you have to be extra kind to yourself however you can. Once you get on stimulants, if you go that way, drink a lot of water and remember to eat (Some of them can make appetite wonky and I think they all dehydrate you). Be careful with caffeine because they do make you more sensitive to that. Maybe like just stop thinking about whether or not your writing is bad or doesn't work in certain ways because I am a Professional Writer and those kinds of thoughts have literally never been helpful to me. When they pop up in my brain I literally say "no" and force myself to think about something else.

Whether your writing is "good" is not an actual question. Is it coherent and does it contain a noticeable and unique voice? Yes. Is it what you want? I can't answer that, but if you say no the way to fix that is usually read more/write more/think more/share with other more.

Also does it read the way it should to other people? Stop it. Don't worry about that yet. You have to finish the damn thing or else it won't read any way to anyone. So much of writing is Second Draft You's problem.

Anyways that's all I have to say. My heart goes out to you for being pulled in so many directions. From my own experience it gets slightly easier once you submit the apps, but people do continue saying dumb nonsense until like midway into your first year in college. And if you end up leaving college for some reason or another people will keep occasionally saying dumb nonsense. But usually by then you're more equipped to ignore them.

You're going to be okay. You are an intelligent, insightful, artistically capable and deeply kind individual. Whether you share your thoughts and make your stories, true or not, through text or art or a mix of both, you have so much to offer. Just remember that.

Also I'm hungry. I've been writing this for a while and I didn't get any work done on the painting for my wife, but it's almost noon and I didn't have breakfast. There's an American Chinese place near here and they have pretty cheap lunch specials. Come on, get your stuff and let's take a break.

Mongolian beef yum yum.

[brokenchainsforgedbonds]

[lost characters as crane wives characters. lets go]

[jack shepherd - know how]

[fundamentally a song about anxiety and not being able to move on, feeling trapped and resistant to let things change even when it should be for the better. jack can't move on, it's a fundamental driver of the story, he always feels like he can't be done with anything.]

[kate austen - easier]

[ive talked about this before but. its literally her. girl who feels like she cant ever find peace staying in one place. girl who just wants to settle down but can never find a way to cure that aching in her chest to move.]

[john locke - new discovery]

[john felt like he was stuck, a sad old man with nothing to live for, just going through the motions without purpose. so, he searches for something to give him meaning, but even when he finds it in the island, he feels like he has to keep pushing and keep forcing on to preserve that sense of purpose, because he has to be moving towards something, or else it was all for nothing.]

[james "sawyer" ford - ancient history]

[okay i really love this one. ancient history's so james core its about a traumatic past that you can't help but let color your existence. like james, the singer feels defined by what's happened to them because of how much it still hurts them. he tries to move on, but he's trapped in cycles.]

[sayid jarrah - the wolf]

[well someone sure thinks they're a monster. the singer of the wolf sees themself as something dangerous and violent, something that will inevitably hurt the people they care about. both the singer & sayid feel like they're trapped in cycles that just hurt themself and others.]

[hugo "hurley" reyes - volta]

[very much a song about mental health. specifically it's about improving, finally deciding to do something about what you've been through. fundamentally volta's a song about hope & making a change for yourself in a way that's super reminiscent of hurley.]

[sun-hwa & jin-soo kwon - curses]

[okay yes i know all the rest of the characters got their own separate songs and all but 1. sun & jin's arcs are so heavily defined by each other in a way unique to them, and 2. curses is so incredibly them i dont want to pass it up. the two struggle to find the words for each other, to be open about what weighs on them and their secrets, to the point it nearly destroys their relationship. but, in the end, the two still stay together, they still try to improve their relationship.]

[charlie pace - the garden]

[the garden is in large part a song about catholic guilt. need i say more? it doesn't matter because i will. charlie feels incredibly guilty over his past and his actions, but struggles to respond to that guilt, instead stewing in self-hate and fear.]

[claire littleton - here i am]

[claire forever feels abandoned. in her flashbacks and by people on the island, she is always left behind by the people she cares about, until she feels like her loneliness is forcd to define her in season 6.]

[desmond hume - little soldiers]

[little soldiers is extremely despen coded. desmond insists that he cares about penny, but fears that after everything, he's hurt her too bad. and yet, him and penny still try, they still put in the work to improve and stay together.]

[aight thats all i can fit for now ill add a part two in a bit]

[atwingeofcringe]

Enough

A/N: hello everyone! this is my first fic on this account! ive written 3 parts to this but ive written them in a way where they could all be standalones and there are time gaps between them but ive left it up for you to decide how much time! ive seen people say different time spans for how long it takes for him to warm up to an S/O and i wanted to keep it vague! even though i have the other 2 written im not sure when i'll post them because i have a lot going on right now but we'll see! i also tried to write these in a way so that you can imagine which ever version of Michael you like most or the version you think best fits! all my writing is done on my phone btw so sorry if there are mistakes i didnt catch! sometimes my phone likes to think it knows more than me lmao! Summary: Michael feels conflicted feelings as you patch up his wounds. Pairing: Michael Myers x Reader Warnings: None Word Count: 1,344

🔪

The sound of your back door opening and then closing broke your attention away from your tv for a split second, then you faced the tv again. Heavy footsteps made their way over to you but you remained watching your show, unconcerned. A dark figure emerged from around the corner and stood there silently, knife in hand, and staring right at you. Anyone else would have been frightened by this but, for you, this is a normal occurrence.

“Hey, Michael!” you greeted, looking up from your show.

Of course, you got no greeting in return, but that’s normal too. He stepped more into view, letting you see him more clearly and you gasped at the sight. He was covered in blood and clearly injured. You knew most of the blood wasn’t his but you were still worried.

You shot up out of your seat on the couch and quickly ushered Michael into your kitchen, where you kept your medical supplies, and sat him down at the table. His bloodied knife was taken to the sink for washing later. He didn’t think his injuries were that bad and why you fussed over him so much, he just wanted to come by to check on you. Still, he let you do what you wanted.

“Can you take this off?” You asked, pointing to his blood soaked coveralls.

He pulled the zipper down pushed the top of the coveralls down until it rested around waist, exposing plain black t-shirt that was also soaked with blood. You thanked him and carefully started tending to any fresh and exposed wounds you could see, all the while trying to keep skin to skin contact to a minimal. He’s not a fan of being touched and you didn’t want to make him angry.

While you did this, you could feel his eyes on you the whole time. You’re used to it, though. His eyes constantly followed your every movement. In the beginning, this used to make you uncomfortable. Now, you paid it no mind and sometimes even forgot about it.

“There.” You sighed, carefully pushing his shirt sleeve back down over his shoulder after taking care of a cut. He stared as you stood over him, looking him over to make sure you got everything. Your eyes scanned him until you got this masked face, seeing more blood on the mask itself and also some parts of his exposed skin from under the mask. You’ve never seen him without it on and you never wanted to ask in case it upset him, but you’re worried.

“Um, do you mind if this comes off too?” Unintentionally, your voice came out small and your throat felt a little dry. You didn’t mean to sound so nervous but you couldn’t help it.

He didn’t make any moves that indicated a yes or a no, only staring up at you. You slightly shuffled uncomfortably before deciding ‘fuck it’ and slowly lift your hand towards the mask. Your finger tips barely made contact with the bottom of before his own hand shot up at light speed and grabbing yours, making you nearly jump out of your skin. His hand gripped yours tightly and it was a little painful but ignored it and swallowed hard before opening your mouth to say something else.

“I-I just want to see if you need stitches or something.” Your voice was shaky and the sound of your heart pounding from the jumpscare was loud in your ears. “I don’t want you to get infected.”

He sat there, staring up at you from his seat and clenching your hand for a few more seconds before letting go. A quiet, relived sigh left your lips as the pain dissipated from your poor hand and you wiggled your fingers a little, trying to get out any lingering pain. Michael looked down as his hands came up and gripped the mask, slowly taking it off.

When the mask was fully off he didn’t look back up at you, letting his gaze linger down at the mask in his hands. For some reason, this made you nervous again but you swallowed your fear and spoke up. “Can I see?”

He was still. Is he afraid of something? Is he nervous too? Most likely, you’ll never know the thoughts swimming through his mind. He’s never been an easy person read, which is how he likes it. Honestly though, he was a little scared. He does’t want to be perceived as just a man and that’s all he felt like without his mask. With it on, he felt powerful and people feared him. Now, here he is risking that reputation and for what? A few cuts and bruises? He knows he doesn’t have to do this but something about your good nature towards him compelled him and it was leaving him feeling conflicted.

“Michael?”

Your voice interrupted his thoughts and he huffed, acknowledging that he heard you.

“Can I see?” You asked one more time. Michael sighed and lifted his head, locking eyes with you once more. You had to stop yourself from gasping at the man in front of you. You’ve thought about what he might look like before but you never expected him to be so… pretty. A smile formed on your face as you tried to fight the blush that threatens to light up your cheeks. “There you are!” You said cheerfully.

He isn’t sure what you meant by that but he sat up straight to let you examine the cuts on his face. You leaned in closer to get a good look but not too close so you didn’t make him uncomfortable.

“Just a couple scratches.” You said, mostly to yourself. “These don’t look bad at all. You’ve got quite the bruise here, though-“ without thinking your hand came up to lightly trace the dark spot that formed near his eye but before you could, his hand came up once again squeezing yours and making squeak in surprise. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking!” You winced.

Micheal stared up at you with a dangerous expression. How could you be so absent minded? Have you forgotten who he is? Did taking of his mask actually ruin your image of him? The thought of his dangerous reputation being ruined angered him and he absent mindedly squeezed your hand harder just thinking about it.

“Michael, your hurting me!” You were nearly on the verge of tears from the pain and trying to pull your hand away.

Michael started thinking about how much you’ve done for him over the time he’s known you. Always worrying about him, giving him a place to hide and rest, feeding him. Would letting down his walls be so bad if it was just you? He knows he’d be just fine without you but thinking of you not existing in his life made him disappointed.

His grip on your hand softened but he didn’t let go. He was still holding on firmly, keeping you from pulling away. You gave up and watched him as he watched you. His eyes pierced yours in a way you feel like you hadn’t seen before. You gulped and asked “are you okay?”

Micheal slowly blinked up at you and loosened his grip on you a little more. You could pull away now if you wanted to but made no attempt. What happened next made butterflies erupt your stomach and you know your face was bright red. Micheal slightly turned his head, now facing your hand, keeping his eyes on you, and placed a gentle kiss to the middle of your palm. Your heart was pounding so hard the sound was nearly deafening in your ears. As his lips left your hand, he softly pressed it against his cheek. You weren’t sure what caused his sudden change in mood, but, honestly, you weren’t complaining.

Your eyes flicked to his lips for a split second before looking back into his eyes. He noticed but made no moves and you were fine with it. Just being close like this was enough.