#he is BEGGING for a tranquilizer. now. immediately.

[multiheadcanons]

MERCS, CRYING

scout: scout is… a very snotty crier. just a lot of snot and mucus, his tears are even thick with how much fluid his body is producing so he can cry. it’s only a few times he will cry in front of anyone. he has gotten a pretty decent hold on most of his more volatile emotions. he does a lot of sniffling, and huffing, and groaning, and then he needs a tissue. and he normally is only going to cry if he is pushed physically to his limit. there does come a point where scout can’t keep up. and he knows this. he desperately wants to pretend this is not true, but you can see it in the way his movement is sloppy, and how his breaths are ragged, and as he puts his hands on his knees and gasps for air he looks almost freaked. scout can tell when he is nearing his limit, he just denies it. he denies it until his muscles give out. and then he just lets it go. allows himself to curl up into the tightest ball he can and cry quietly. and when he’s approached about it, it’s a broken response. he’s just tired. he can keep going. and he will stumble up, maybe drink some water if he has it, and continue on.

soldier: a surprisingly proud crier, soldier is normally one who sheds tears of joy. he is not a sad crier, “sad” is not particularly in his emotional wheelhouse. so if you see tears, you’re actually either seeing sweat, stray streams of piss from the enemy sniper’s jarate if he’s on the field, or another, unknown liquid. but for the glory of his patriotism, he will shed a few tears. always cries at the star spangled banner, he just thinks it’s a beautiful anthem. the general emotion of pride also gets his tear ducts moving. if he works hard for an outcome, and he gets it, there is a real possibility he is overcome with emotion and cries a bit. he deserves a little cry, as a treat. does not sniffle. the snot will run down his face like a man.

pyro: pyro has a very difficult time regulating themselves. their emotional outbursts are more likely to be a cause of a lack of food, water, or sleep, more than it is to be whatever is actively occurring that caused the outburst. and when the underlying issue is solved, normally pyro can come to their senses and has to make the rounds to apologize to whoever they may have hurt along the way. but there are times that they simply… can’t pinpoint the underlying cause. or they have just reason to be upset. though the team attempts to mediate, in the case of the latter, it makes pyro more upset that the team tries so hard to placate them. they don’t know if it’s genuine or not. they end up secluding themselves to cry. the mask still doesn’t come off. eventually they fall asleep in their room, and, though still somewhat hurt, will feel better the next morning. they are truly thankful for their team. they try their best to make pyro feel wanted and valued.

demo: tavish doesn’t really cry anymore. he groans and moans and does a lot of bitching and wallowing, but he never really cries. he doesn’t cry unless he’s asleep. there are times where he wakes up and his cheek is wet, and he’s got a headache placed behind his eye, and most of the time he’s not sure what he crying for. the dreams aren’t always terrible, so why does he wake up so drained? a drink usually fixes that, and he goes about his day. nobody really sees him cry unless they sleep with him. because sometimes, the dreams are bad enough that the grogginess feels fair. feels right to be tired when he shoots up with a gasp, and feels the familiar wet on his cheek. he tries to give himself more grace those days. will let out a few sobs of sheer relief when placed and eventually removed from a truly terrible situation.

heavy: arguably the prettiest crier, heavy allows five tears per week, maximum, and these do not roll over to other weeks. these are normally reserved for moments of immense joy. he does not cry to sad things. there is no point. it is usually the most picturesque tear gliding slowly down his cheek. sometimes a choked laugh as he wipes his eyes quickly. he really can’t help but shed tears at sweet scenes. its just so warm. it fills him up with so much tenderness, he’s gotta let a few slide. but just a few. five maximum. he’s gotta spread that out if he plans on having a great week. the best part of it is, because heavy is not crying out of utter sorrow, he doesn’t really mind when people see him shed a few tears here and there. he’s happy! sue him! do something to change that, he dares you. heavy is an aggressive protector of his joy. so truly, try that if you want to.

engineer: dell is a clencher. and a wheezer. and them goggles are not coming off. he will normally attempt to put hands on anyone who pushes him to the point where he wants to cry. he doesn’t… actually cry most of the time. last time he cried was when his mother died, god rest her soul. he is more likely to beat some ass. and if he can cause enough damage, then the tears will remove themselves from his ducts in preference of being sweat on his neck. but sometimes he can’t put his hands on people. and he’s just got to stand there, or sit there, and clench his fists, and huff and puff, and let the tears pool in his goggles. and don’t bring it up if you see it. because he’ll get very defensive. you didn’t see him crying. you didn’t see anything. his goggles were on. and he’s not upset, or hurt. he’s fucking pissed. now get out of the way before you become collateral. don’t take the aggression to heart, he just doesn’t like remembering his body is capable of crying. it’s exhausting for him. and he never feels better. so he doesn’t really cry anymore.

medic: the doctor cries about once a decade. and it’s the worst thing to experience in person. there are more often occurrences where he gets close. and he closes his eyes (because he knows they get puffy), and buries his head in his hands, and you can see him shake. but he is normally able to bring himself away from his hands, take a deep breath, and continue. but he looks like a kid, even at his grown age and intimidating stature. and none of that matters when he can’t stop himself from crying. when it rains, it pours. he cannot stop himself from wailing. loud, piercing sobs. and his face gets red, and his eyes get puffy, and he crumbles to the floor. he squeezes himself, hoping the pressure on his lungs will stop the hyperventilating. it doesn’t. he just can’t breathe, and he’s gasping for air. and if you’re the sorry soul that bears witness to it, he will look at you. desperate, and frightened. and he will tell you he is dying. and he needs help. but he won’t let you touch him. so he just writhes, and screams for you to help him. he begs you until he falls asleep. the best thing you can do is attempt to get him to a bed.

sniper: sniper cries twice to thrice a month. he gets lonely sometimes. he wonders if this is it. and he misses his parents. a very quiet crier. you really wouldn’t know unless you looked at him. and it is freakish to see. his face is pulled so tight. it looks like he’s sitting through an amputation. and his teeth are bared in a terrified snarl. he’s fighting actual ghosts in his mind. and he is trying, and succeeding in keeping himself absolutely quiet. if he feels like his face looks fucked up, eventually he will bury his head in his hands. or pull his hat down lower. his shoulders quake when he can’t stop himself. but he doesn’t make a noise. he just trembles, and lets the tears fall. this usually happens in his van, alone. sometimes the team will catch him in a spare room as he messily wipes his eyes. or find him in restless sleep in a closet afterward. they don’t know whether to disturb him, so they just leave the door cracked so he knows someone came to check on him. he’s appreciative of this.

spy: spy doesn’t cry often because he’s sloppy with it. it’s always very wet. he gets maybe thirty seconds to get his crying under control or it becomes a mess. lots of tears, lots of snot, and if he’s in truly terrible straits he is drooling in an attempt to get his emotional state under control. and he gets even madder when he cries. prone to self harm, normally either pinching his thighs or pulling at his hair. and then he gets aggressively self-deprecating. and he does not cry in the mask. he never cries in the mask. the spy does not shed tears. whoever that sorry loser he sees in the mirror is another question. and he looks stupid when he cries. and he cries for nothing. nobody cares whether he’s crying. nobody cares what it’s about. locks his bedroom door to decompress in silence. this is normally the beginning of spy’s comatose behavior. he shatters, and drags every piece he can back to the bed. some things get left in the move. and he sleeps as his mind begins to piece himself back together.

[thesongoficeandfir3]

Hiems et illa

Cregan Stark x wife reader

Genre: fluff

A/n: reader race is not mentioned but it implied they are Targaryen/Velaryon

You shivered and struggled through the thick winter snow. The other Stark men were a few feet ahead of you, but Cregan stayed only inches away, intentionally walking slowly, yet not quite at your pace. The grey stone walls of Winterfell grew smaller and smaller in the distance as you all trudged the long, wide path to the hunting grounds. Your fingers felt as though they might break off at any second, your dress stiff and frozen. It felt like boulders were shackled to your feet with how hard it was to move through the snow and the sack over you shoulder didn’t help at all. You dared not complain, however for it had been you who begged, over and over, to be allowed on the trip.

Cregan had hesitated to let you come, not because you were a woman, of course. It was common enough for women to join the hunt. No, it was because you were a Southerner. Unused to long stretches of cold, he hadn’t believed you could endure it. He was right, of course hells, the very first day you’d arrived in Winterfell, you hadn’t believed you’d survive the night with how cold it was. You were still indoors, right in front of a roaring fire, when you’d said it, but still you wanted this.

It had only been a few weeks since you became Lady of Winterfell, but you quickly noticed how the North was vastly different from the South in many ways, but one difference stood out was the drama. Back home, there was always some issue, daily squabbles and quarrels among highborns, a mixture of petty or grand. The North, while not free from politics, didn’t seem consumed by them, rather their focus on much larger matters.

Since marrying Cregan, your days had gone from endless council meetings to far more peaceful, tranquil ones. Although you adored your new home and appreciated the quiet... gods, you couldn’t stand another full day with your ladies-in-waiting holding up tapestries and then asking which should be used for the next guest.

As you continued trudging through the snow, your knees finally gave out. You landed face-first with a soft oof. Cregan stopped immediately, the men ahead paused as well, but he waved them off and came over, offering you a hand.

“You ought to be more careful, or I’ll be inclined to carry you the whole way.”

You frowned at his comment.

“You need not treat me like a basket case, I am fine,” you declared, declining his hand and getting up on your own.

Reckless and ambitious… what a dangerous combination, he thought. It was hard to take your defiance seriously with your front and hair completely covered in snow.

“Well, at least you're becoming better acquainted with the snow” he said, reaching out to brush it off you, his touch tender and careful. “There.” His calloused hand cupped your cheek, thumb brushing away the last of the flakes clinging to your skin.

Though it had been some time since you became man and wife, moments like this still had your face heating like a blushing girl.

“Oi!” One of his men Davos calls from the distance, bringing you back to reality.

You feel a major weight lifted off of your shoulders when Cregan takes you sack, swinging it over his shoulder alongside his own.

“Walk in front of me” he says, his tone not commanding but at the same time leaving no room for debate. “I would appreciate still having a wife when we return home.”

Camp had now been set up for the night. The Stark men could have easily gone for a few more hours, but Cregan called for a stop for the sake of you. Though you wouldn’t admit it, he knew how badly you wished to rest.

Everyone gathered around the campfire as food was passed out. When your share reached you, you blinked down at the plate. Two pieces of dried meat and half a loaf of coarse bread. You lifted the meat, eyeing it curiously, you’d never seen anything like it before. It was thin, thinner than your fingers, and smelled like, well nothing at all.

“Doesn’t it need to be cooked?” you asked, innocently.

The men paused and stared at you for a beat before they burst into laughter. A few muttered “Southerners” under their breath. Even Cregan chuckled, shaking his head with a smirk.

“No, love. We’re in the middle of the forest, cooking is a luxury. This is quick and efficient.”

You nodded choosing to eat the bread first since it was more familiar. You soon brought the meat to your mouth. You thought you might pull a tooth out with how tough it was. It tasted like wood and was hard swallow. Your face twisted in discomfort and their laughter grew louder. You looked down, cheeks burning with embarrassment. Cregan noticed, his gaze swept over the men like a blade and they went quiet under it.

“Ignore them,” he said in his low, gruff tone. “They’d eat a rotten carcass if there was good ale to go with it.”

You laughed softly, and the sound warmed his chest. Finally, he thought a smile. Your laughter was a welcome softness in the harsh winter.

“Here,” he said, handing you his piece of bread.

“Oh, no—I couldn’t,” you said, shaking your head.

“You will.” He places the bread into your hands. “I’m not that hungry tonight anyway.”

It was a lie he could feel hunger gnawing at his gut, but the thought of you going without pained him more.

You took the bread, eyeing it with regret, cursing yourself for not finishing your porridge that morning. You took one bite, then another, then another… before you realized the whole thing was gone. When you looked up, Cregan wore an amused grin.

“You know, here in the North, it’s customary to chew your food,” he teases.

You’re about to fire back when a sudden burp escapes your lips. You gasp, instantly covering your mouth.

He smiles at that, a soft unguarded smile. His eyes hold something tender, full of quiet love and care, a gentleness he showed only to you.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he murmurs. “There’s no need for manners out here.”

He watches you for a moment and notices the weariness in your eyes.

“Come now,” he says gently. “It’s getting late, we’ve got an early start the morrow.”

Everyone begins settling in around the fire. Some of the men are already fast asleep, while others shift into more comfortable positions. Now that the sun has set, the cold bites sharper, and the frost in the air promises to deepen as the night wears on.

Cregan glances over at you, curled up on your makeshift bed. You look exhausted, knees pulled to your chest, blowing hot air into your hands. He knows you’ve been trying not to show weakness this entire trip. It’s admirable… but he won’t have it.

You suddenly feel something heavy drape over your shoulders and look up to see it’s his cloak. Thick and fur-lined, it swallows you whole. You open your mouth to protest, but he lifts a finger, silencing you.

“I’m a man of the North. I’ll manage.” He crouches down to tie it securely around you. “Besides, how am I supposed to explain to your family that their dear Y/n turned into a princessicle during the night?”

You mumble out a quiet thank you, praying he won’t change his mind—gods, it was warm. You lay down, cocooned in his cloak, and the combination of his scent and the lingering warmth lulls you into sleep.

Cregan is woken by the sound of rustling. He turns to his side and feels his heart drop when he sees your spot empty. Instantly alert, he scans the area until he catches sight of you….walking alone into the dark forest.

Gods, this woman.

Without hesitation, he rises and follows. You don’t even realize he’s there until a branch snaps behind you. You whirl around, about to scream but Cregan is already there, grabbing you from behind, one strong hand clamping gently over your mouth.

“Gods be damned, woman,” he growls. “Are you trying to wake the whole forest?”

You freeze, back still pressed against his chest, his arm firm around your middle and his other hand gently silencing you. You can only shake your head helplessly, he slowly spins you around to face him, his hand settling around your forearm not harshly, but with the kind of grip that betrays just how scared he’d been.

His eyes meet yours, those storm-grey eyes filled with both anger and fear. You shrink a little under the intensity of his gaze.

“What in the seven hells are you doing out here?” His voice is rough, but there’s a crack in it, not from anger but worry.

You falter, voice barely a whisper. “I… I had to relieve myself.”

He doesn’t say anything at first. Just stares. His jaw tightens.

“So you thought it wise to go off alone?” His grip on you still firm “You could’ve gotten lost. Taken. Frozen. Killed-“ he stops himself, thinking of the hundreds of ways you could have killed yourself which didn’t help ease with his anger. He exhales sharply, then realizes his grip is still firm on you. He lets go, dragging a hand down his face then pinching the bridge of his nose like he’s trying to calm a storm in his chest.

...

“Cregan?”

He doesn’t answer right away.

“What?” he replies harsher than he intended to.

“I… I still have to go.”

He groans something under his breath, inaudible, before walking with you deeper into the forest, a bit farther from camp. Once you reach a far enough spot, though he clearly doesn’t want you out of his sight again, he turns his back to give you privacy.

When you return to his side, he wordlessly starts walking again. The quiet between you is heavy, the only sound is the snow crunching under your boots. You steal a glance at him, he doesn’t look at you, his gaze fixed straight ahead, jaw set. You wish to say something but nothing passes your lips, of course you’ve seen him angry but it was never directed towards you so you have no idea how to react.

A sudden distant howl slices through the silence. You freeze. Your eyes dart toward the trees, heart racing. You’re not accustom to the sound, not even at Winterfell. For they won’t dare wonder that close to civilization, but you were in their home now. You look over at Cregan and his eyes are still set forward, you begin to nervously wring your hands together trying to ease your nerves.

He notices. “Don’t worry,” he says, voice still gruff but with a hint of softness now. “Just a lonesome wolf calling for its pack, sounds far off.”

He keeps walking. You don’t.

He stops when he realizes, turning back to you with a slight frown.

“I’m sorry…”

His eyebrows crease, confused. “For what?”

“For being such a burden,” you say quietly, your voice breaking. “I’m sorry I begged to come… sorry you are now stuck watching over me.”

He just looks at you for a moment guilt and regret stirs within him, mayhaps he should not have snapped at you like that.

“You are not a burden,” he says gently. “Annoying, yes but never a burden.”

You give a weak laugh, but the words don't quite reach your heart.

He steps closer and cradles your face in both hands, making you look at him.

“Listen to me,” he says softly, his thumbs brushing your cheeks. “You are my wife. It’s my duty to protect you, to care for you…” He pauses, eyes searching yours. “And it is something I want to do. Gladly. Every day. Until my last breath.”

You blink up at him. In the silver glow of the moonlight, his pale skin lit softly, his dark hair tousled by the wind, his features relaxed once more and softness in his eyes only reserved for you return.

“Understood?”

You nod. “Understood.”

He bends down to press a long, warm kiss to your forehead. The chill in the air turns to heat in your chest. When he pulls away, he takes your hand, his large calloused one enveloping your smaller one and together, the two of you walk slowly back toward the firelight.

[jyeoulzhu]

she's MINE.

summary . y/n invites karina to a family dinner, and their younger cousin (who's lowkey in love with karina) gets super jealous every time y/n and karina act couple-y.

pairing . yu jimin x gender neutral reader

y/n should’ve known bringing karina to family dinner was a mistake.

the moment they walked in, their six-year-old cousin, minho, sprinted across the room, skidded to a stop in front of karina, and gasped so loud it echoed.

“OH MY GOD,” he whispered, clutching his chest like he was overcome with emotion. “YOU’RE… YOU’RE SO PRETTY.”

karina, ever the menace, crouched down to his level and smiled sweetly. “hi, minho. it’s nice to meet you.”

minho’s entire soul left his body.

his face turned tomato red, his knees buckled, and he let out the softest, most lovesick sigh y/n had ever heard.

then, he turned to them, scowling so hard it aged him fifty years. “you don’t deserve her.”

y/n blinked. “HUH???”

before they could process that insult, minho grabbed karina’s hand and held on for dear life. then, with all the confidence in the world, he said,

“you can go home now.”

karina bit her lip to keep from laughing, but y/n was outraged. they turned to their family, expecting SOMEONE to defend them, but everyone just looked like they were watching a drama unfold.

y/n’s own blood had betrayed them.

-

minho sat right between y/n and karina like a tiny, angry guard dog. every time y/n even tried to touch karina, minho blocked it like a security system.

at one point, y/n stretched their arm over karina’s chair, only for minho to physically remove it.

"personal space, bozo," he snapped.

y/n turned to their aunt. "can we return him? i feel like we can still get store credit."

"unfortunately, no," she sighed. "we lost the receipt."

minho smirked in victory.

karina? she was having the time of her life.

"minho, do you want more rice?" she asked sweetly, patting his head.

"only if you feed me," he replied, dead serious.

y/n nearly choked on air. "BRO, USE A SPOON—"

minho ignored them as karina, grinning, picked up a spoonful of rice and held it out for him. minho took the bite like he was a prince being doted on, then turned to y/n with the SMUGGEST EXPRESSION ON EARTH.

"yeah, that's right," he mumbled through his food. "cry about it."

y/n was about to throw hands with a LITERAL CHILD.

after dinner, y/n FINALLY managed to steal karina away to the living room. they had her all to themselves. peace. tranquility. romance.

…or at least, they thought so.

because the SECOND they leaned in to rest their head on karina’s shoulder, MINHO APPEARED FROM THE SHADOWS.

like ACTUALLY. like HE CAME OUT OF NOWHERE.

"DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT."

he wedged himself between them like a tiny, aggressive chaperone, then crossed his arms like he was about to kick y/n out of their OWN HOUSE.

“bro,” y/n hissed. “do you even know what personal space is?”

“do you know what boundaries are?” minho shot back.

y/n was about to LOSE IT. but before they could, karina turned to them, grinning like the little shit she was.

"are you jealous?" she teased.

y/n scoffed, arms crossed. “of a six-year-old? no way.”

karina’s smirk widened. she leaned in real close, her lips right by y/n’s ear.

"then you won’t mind if i give minho a kiss on the cheek, right?" she whispered.

y/n’s soul EXITED their body. minho overheard this and IMMEDIATELY sat up so straight his back CRACKED.

"PLEASE," minho begged.

y/n, panicking, GRABBED KARINA'S HAND AND STOOD UP IMMEDIATELY.

"ACTUALLY IT'S GETTING LATE. WE REALLY SHOULD BE GOING. BYE MINHO."

they YANKED karina out the door, SLAMMING IT behind them.

from inside, minho’s BLOODCURDLING SCREAM echoed through the entire house.

as soon as they were outside, karina burst into laughter. "oh my god, i can't believe you got jealous of a six-year-old."

y/n groaned, burying their face in their hands. "YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND. that little menace is gonna make my life a LIVING HELL for this."

karina giggled, lacing her fingers with y/n’s. “don’t worry,” she whispered. “i only have eyes for you.”

y/n sighed in relief, but then their phone buzzed.

enemy #1 “sleep with one eye open, bozo.”

y/n stared at the message, fear settling in. they could already hear minho’s evil little giggles in their head.

…yeah.

they were SO doomed.

[uzurakis]

brainrotting so hard rn thinking of megumi who absolutely refuses to admit his feelings for his best friend but okay so hear me out shikigamis are often reflections of their owner, right?

his shikigami – his demon dogs, nue, escape rabbit etc etc are ALL attached to reader, constantly begging for their attention and being so protective towards reader whenever he brings them out. and reader can't help but feel loved and safe whenever they're around.

because the affection his shikigami has for you is a reflection of megumi's feelings for you <3

n. THIS IS SOOO GOOD and i just HAD to make a drabble out of it. i also feel megs will sometimes be jealous but.. hey.. isn’t that just an extension of HIMSELF? thank you nonnie cause i had fun brainrotting this wit chu <3

under the dappled shade of a tree, you and your bestfriend sat nestled amidst nature's embrace. the gentle rustle of leaves provided a soothing soundtrack to the lazy hour after school as the cool breeze swayed in between. you leaned against the sturdy trunk, the rough bark a comforting support against your back, whilst fushiguro reclined nearby, never not a book on hand, his presence a familiar comfort in the tranquil surroundings. he looked too focused, way too focused right now.

“fushiguro,” you called out whilst biting back a smile, holding up your index finger in a playful gesture. “one favor.”

“no.” came his immediate response, closing off any opportunities as he remain engrossed in his book.

it was a usual thing for you to do, pester him for fun with many favors. you knew that despite his protests, he would always give in to your whims. it was one of the things you adore about him actually, the lengths he’d go to make you feel better.

undeterred, you continued, pouting slightly. "but fushiguroo..."

“no.” he repeated firmly. “your one favor usually turns into a two favor, and a three—“

“i promise it’s only a favor this time!”

a wind brushed his black locks as he peered up from his book, letting out a slight forced sigh as he finally locked his eyes with yours. “just one favor.” he conceded, unable to resist your asks.

the smile of yours finally burst out, and the favor rolled off of your tongue. it was simple this time; you didn't have to use your pleading looks or other tricks to get him agreeing.

“can you summon some of your shikigamis? just wanna play with them.”

fushiguro's expression softened, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips despite his initial resistance. he closed his book gently and set it aside, his attention fully on you now.

"alright," he relented, his tone warmer now. "i can do that, only for a short while."

you nodded eagerly, grateful for his concession. fushiguro had a way of understanding your needs even when you were being particularly bothersome. so you wasted no time in joining in the play, laughing and running around with his divine dogs. fushiguro watched with a fondness in his eyes, silently grateful for moments like these.

well, he too had other ideas. he certainly seems to have a knack for stirring up trouble and was definitely intentional. while you were distracted by the dogs swarming about you, he summoned an army of his rabbits—a large number of them—and they all jumped at you at once.

“do you want me to get killed from your rabbits?!” the shout was muffled as his rabbits covered quite every inch of your body. “did you tell them to come at me?!”

no, your bestfriend never ask his shikigamis to come at you the moment he summoned them. fushiguro megumi's shikigamis, his loyal companions, had a mind of their own. he never trained the dogs to nozzle around you, the rabbits to bounce over you, or nue to sit on your shoulder. for that they didn't heed the conventional rules of summoning or obedience; instead, they acted on their instincts, driven by an unspoken directive to protect and be close at all times—fushiguro megumi’s instincts to protect you and be close at all times.

“dunno,” picking up where he left off and submerging back to his pages. “maybe.”

“you’re such a prick!” the words burst forth as you try to get the rabbits off of you.

he watched you from a distance, his heart swelling with affection as you kept playing around with his shikigamis. but he still tried to held back his own smile, a silent observer in the background, content to bask in the warmth of your presence.

yet, as if on cue, a smile tugged at the corners of his lips, he could not hide it any longer.

@uzurakis — requests are open! <3

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

Kidnapped Astarion

I have a very specific thing I can't stop thinking about. That involves Astarion getting kidnapped by Cazador for the ritual and him taunting him over the lie that Tav gave him away. Sold him even.

Tw: Lies, manipulation, mentions of torture, bad times had all around, it's long as fuck, betrayal (or at least the lie of it). Like Cazador is involved so all bad. Very bad. This also has VIOLENCE. Like canon game violence but it is BLOODY. You've been warned. Also happy ending :)

So now let's get to that angst:

It had all happened so fast.

One moment Astarion was laid back in the tent you share, reading a mediocre book as he impatiently waited for your return. He loathed when you went out without him, even if it was for good reason. He wasn't exactly welcome company when it came to solving Gale's problems, especially when it came to the bomb nestled in chest. You both knew his inability to keep his sarcastic quips to himself would not be an asset while exploring a sacred library. Besides, he didn't have much room to complain, not when he accompanied you on ninety-nine percent of your outings.

But that didn't mean he had to like it. Even if it was shaping up to be a nice, uneventful evening. He had set your tent a little farther away from the others, considering the complaints that some....well most had made about the volume of your nightly activities. It was quiet, peaceful even. The atmosphere tranquil enough for him to fully relax.

What a mistake that had been.

When the flap of the tent opened he didn't even look up, fully expecting it to be Shadowheart or Lae'zel coming round to dig about in his darling's things. It made sense, considering how it was one of the few times they wouldn't be risking walking in on something. You had such a bad habit with that "open door" policy of yours. One that had exposed nearly every party member to quite the show. Though in Astarion's view, they were just unreasonable. When you were both loud they complained. When you were quiet and they walked in on it they would whine even more. How could you win with people like that?

Perhaps a sign on the door would have done the trick, but Astarion would be lying if he didn't enjoy the others being fully aware of who could make you cry and moan. The risk was just more thrilling, if not the slightest bit annoying.

But the intruder was staying still at the opening, quiet as could be. It was odd enough to have Astarion glancing upward, his heart stopping in his chest at what he saw.

It was a man, frantically muttering something under his breath. A man that he recognized. The idiotic Petras, trying to cast some kind of incantation. It had Astarion scrambling upward, reaching for his dagger. But it was already too late. The spell was finished and Astarion could feel his senses start to fade away, one by one.

He had gotten sloppy, relying on the safety of camp that had never existed. And now he was paying the price, and what a price to pay. Even as he fell to the magic, one feeling managed to stay in place until the bitter end.

Terror.

And then, he felt nothing at all.

The next thing Astarion knew he was being awakened by a slap of cold water to his face, blinking up into horrifyingly familiar light. He immediately recognized where he was. The torture room, his arms hanging from the ceiling, his toes barely scraping the floor. It hurt to be suspended like this, a pain he was still so familiar with despite going months without. And in front of him was the cause of it all, sneering at him like the maniac he was.

Cazador.

"You're finally awake," He grinned, dropping the bucket that was in his hands, "You've been a very bad boy Astarion. Just what am I to do with you?"

Astarion wanted to answer, to curse at him, maybe even beg to just be left alone, but nothing came out. He was too stunned, too stupefied that he ended up here after everything he'd gone through. Everything you'd gone through. How could it end like this?

"I don't fully know what you were up to with all that time away from your family," Cazador continued, stepping close enough for Astarion to feel his disgusting breath on his skin, "But I think I may have the gist. Galivanting around with your merry-band of degenerates. Seems fitting."

Astarion gave a full-bodied flinch when Cazador started to graze along his collarbones with a gentle finger, his touch freezing and revolting. The gentleness wouldn't last, Astarion was surprised it was even there to begin with.

He should have realized there was a reason for it.

He trailed up his neck, stopping to trace a bruise you had left the night before. If only he had known that it was almost certainly the last time he would get to touch you. The realization was nearly enough to bring tears to Astarion's eyes, but he refused to cry in front of this creature, not if he could help it.

"Seems like you may have even found yourself a favorite amongst them. Tell me pet, who was it?"

"Fuck you." Astarion spat out, his fury managing to shine through his despair.

Astarion expected a hard slap for the insolence, but instead Cazador just laughed, loud and full-bellied, "You've gotten quite the temper since you've been away, haven't you? I wonder where that came about?"

It was a false question, Astarion could tell from the way his eyes were crinkled. Like a child excited to reveal a surprise. Cazador answered it for himself, "Is it that lovely little thing that you've been following around. Gods, what's their name again...Tav, is it?"

"Don't you dare say her name," Astarion growled, his righteous fury overcoming the ever-growing terror and dread, "They have nothing to do with this!"

"Oh but they do," Cazador grinned, stepping back to do one of his famous gloating sessions, "Just how do you think I found you? Luck? No my dear, you were given."

Astarion's answer was as immediate as it was hateful, "You're lying! You know nothing of them. Nothing of us."

He won't believe it, he has no reason to. You...you loved him. And you were probably looking for him as they spoke. You would never betray anyone like this, least of all him.

But Cazador remained unphased. If anything he was looking at him with pity, "Oh you poor thing. You think she cares? You think she loves you? I'm disappointed Astarion, it seems you've learned nothing from our time together. What is there to love, hm? Nothing that I can see. Though...they sure did seem to love the gold. You fetch quite the high price my dear. But it will be worth it."

Lies. It was all lies. It had to be. Astarion shoved his uncertainty back down, bellowing out, "Liar!"

It was forceful enough to even make Cazador falter for the briefest of moments, a split second that anyone else would have missed. But he pressed on, shaking his head, "Darling, don't you find it strange that you were all alone that day? That no one came to your aid? Where do you think you're love was, hm? Wait, don't tell me. I can remember...ah yes! With Gale, correct?"

Astarion swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. How...how did he know that?

"It was a fabulous excuse, was it not?" Cazador continued with a laugh, "We came up with that one together. After a little fun that is. I can see why you fell for their treachery Astarion, they are quite lovely, aren't they?"

No. No, no, no.

"Stop it," Astarion hissed, "Shut your mouth. I-It's not true."

"Oh but it is. I'm not sure if you're aware but you're quite the headache darling, not many can handle it. Not including myself. She even told me of that hilarious speech you gave. About wanting something real. It was just as funny to her as it was to me."

Astarion stared at him, at a complete loss for words. It couldn't be true. It couldn't. But...how else would he know that? In a camp full of people why did no one come to his aid? But the cruelty of it all...it was exactly the type of thing Cazador was versed in.

Setting up the same type of trap that he'd trained Astarion for, that he had used on others countless times. And he fell for it, he lost the game he thought he'd mastered.

His faith was slipping, hard and fast when he asked the horrible question, "How do you know that?"

"Because I sent them to you," He said with that disgusting grin, "It was no coincidence that you met. You were kidnapped, I needed you back, so I hired some help. It's a pity that they were captured as well. The pause to our plans was quite inconvenient. Our Tav just can't help but get distracted, can she?"

"No..." The word slipped out of Astarion without his consent, his mind racing. That couldn't be true. It didn't make sense. T-There had to be another explanation. If he could just think he'd find it. But...what point was there? He was already captured, taken. If anything, all of this being a grand scheme from Cazador was more logical than someone loving him.

He had gone through many, many tortures during his time here. Unspeakable, horrible things that he would never wish on anyone, excluding the man in front of him. But this...this was the worst thing he'd ever done to him. He had tricked him, you had tricked him, and he whole-heartedly fell for it, like the fool he was. The fool he would die as.

He didn't know it was possible, but this would be the greatest pain he ever knew. He was sure of that. Cazador had managed to do it. He had broken him, finally.

His tears were falling on their own accord, plentiful and pathetic. Cazador cooed at him, tracing his cheek with his horrid hand, "It hurts, doesn't it? I missed that expression on you my boy. You were always at you're prettiest when you had given up."

He wiped Astarion's tears away, gently holding his face as he spoke, "If only this was enough. The things I want to do to you for running away... I want to make you scream, make you beg for death. Just like how things used to be. If only we had the time."

Cazador let go, stepping back with a sigh, "How I wish that they had gotten you to me earlier. Though it's too late to pout about it now, the preparations are almost complete. But don't fret my boy, your end will have the meaning that your life failed to posses. Come along now."

Astarion hung there, limp as Cazador unhooked him from above. This was it. He was going to die here, as nothing but a pawn. He didn't even try to fight it when he was led down, deep into the palace to a place he'd never known existed. He kept his eyes closed for most of the journey, simply for the fact that he didn't have the strength to keep them open.

It was...a horrendous feeling to be incased in that red energy, floating in the air with all of his brothers and sisters as Cazador finished his preparations. It forced his eyes open against his will, making him see the hell that had been hiding beneath his feet all these years. He had been wrong about the sacrifice it seemed, it wasn't just them. There were thousands of bodies, barely alive in hanging cages, strewn throughout the place.

It was horrible, but fitting. Where else would something like him die? All he wished was that Cazador would hurry, so he could be done with it all. He has to much time to think in these last moments, too much time to examine your betrayal.

He...hates you. For it all. He hates you more than anything, enough for that same fury to come bubbling back to the surface. How dare you do this to him, after everything you'd been through. He should have killed you while you slept, while you let him drink from your throat. He should have killed them all, the vile sacks of shit.

If his soul ever found it's way back from the hell it was about to be damned too, he'd find you. His revenge was no longer reserved for Cazador, but for the wretched bitch hat tortured him in ways he didn't even think were possible. He'd do worse to you than anyone could imagine.

You were the cruelest thing to ever exist, as heartless and horrid as the monster before him.

So why was he still crying over it?

It didn't matter anyway. Not now. Now, all he could do was wait for the bitter end.

But then...he felt something. A familiar presence tickling the back of his mind. A barely there whisper, no words that he could make out. But it was getting stronger. Clearer.

It...it was you. Calling out to him with your illithid connection, begging for an answer.

My love, where are you? Astarion please, please tell me your there. Help me find you.

He can scarcely believe it. But he wasn't going to wait for his emotions to catch up to what could be an escape. He was screaming in his brain, trying to send out any signal that he could.

I'm here. I'm here. Don't let him take me. Please.

He could hear you in his head, the sheer relief from your mind nearly overwhelming, I'm coming. Hold on, I'm coming.

Astarion didn't even have the time to doubt. Because the next moment you were bursting through the ornate doors, nearly your entire team in tow.

Astarion had never seen you look the way you did then. He was so used to your kindness, the warmth and light that you tried to spread everywhere you went. You were always smiling, always laughing, always trying to share the same with others.

But now you were breathing hard, near feral in your posture as your eyes darted around, landing straight to the shocked Cazador. You looked murderous, vicious enough to send a shiver down Astarion's spine. Your teeth were bared, your whole body trembling with rage as you started to advance, weapons already drawn.

And in that moment Astarion was sure that you were the most gorgeous, perfect thing he had ever seen. Or ever would.

It was brutal, bloody battle. One that ended with you slitting Cazador's throat as Astarion watched in awe. You let the body fall to the ground, blasé before you finally ran to him, releasing him from his prison.

Then he was being pulled into the most crushing hug of his entire life. One that he was helpless to return. He clung to you, uncaring for their rather large audience.

He was too busy burying his face into your hair, breathing you in as you whispered into his shoulder, "Thank the Gods that you're still here."

The pain in your voice was so raw, so real. Astarion needed no other evidence to be sure that every word from the dead man's lips had been a lie. He was also positive that he had never cried this much in his life, but now it was a different kind of sob he was trying to choke back. The flood of relief was crushing, the truth that your love was real was nearly enough to destroy him all over again. Not for cruelties sake, but to make something new. To kill every last doubt he had that he was nothing, worthless. How could he be when you were here? When you came for him?

He pulled back reluctantly, smiling down at you with tear tracks on his face. He kissed your forehead, covered in sweat and blood, and gods knows what else.

It was all finally over. You both turned to the rest of the group, your hands clasped together as you made your way to where Cazador lay dead. It was satisfying to see, but such a shame that Astation wasn't the one to do the deed. A regret he'd have for the rest of his days.

Or so he thought.

But then you were turning to Shadowheart, your sweet face curling back into the disgust from earlier when you ordered, "Revive him."

Astarion watched, wide-eyed as she did what she was told. Cazador came back into consciousness, in what looked to be an extremely unpleasant experience. He was coughing blood, the spell doing just enough to mend his mortal wounds, but not nearly powerful enough to give him a fraction of his strength back. He stared upwards, his eyes wide at the sight of you lording over him.

And for the first time in two hundred years, Astarion saw fear in the other man's eyes. Wonderfully delicious fear.

He felt you squeeze his hand as he stared at him, speaking quietly, "He's yours. To do with what you please. Do...do you want us here for this?"

He could hear the hidden meaning in your words. This wasn't just a choice of what to do with him. It was a choice of what to do with them all. He had taken notice that he was the only one that you had freed, his brethren still suspended in air.

He turned to you, his voice strong for the first time since he'd come back to this pit, "I want you here for this."

You nodded before looking back to the others to tell them to wait outside. They did so reluctantly, obviously without confidence in his decision making abilities. He ignored the especially worried look Karlach sent his way, too focused on the piece of vampiric trash in front of him.

Cazador was still coughing, his mouth forming more vile words, "Y-You don't have to do this. I can-"

"Silence," Astation seethed, partly surprised when it worked to shut him up. But then again, he had never been placed in a position to see his master be the one without an escape, "Your life is in my hands now. Tell me the truth. How did you find me?"

Astarion could see the fury behind his eyes, the humiliation of being ordered around by his own spawn. But his desire for life won out in the end.

"Luck," he spat out, "Sheer luck. Yomen saw you in the city, at Shar's Caress with this one. He followed you, found your camp and reported back. I sent Dalyria and Petras to fetch you, gave them a powerful sleeping scroll to knock out your allies. And then you were mine again."

Astarion shouldn't have been surprised that he had the audacity to glare at Tav, seething, "Or at least you would have been."

"And my memories?" Astarion pressed, "How did you know of us?"

"The tadpole squirming behind your eyes doesn't change the fact that I am your master," Cazador said, "Your mind is mine to shape, to understand. It was more difficult than before, yes. But I had enough to know what to say."

Of course. He should have known, "So that was your last torture then?"

"Yes," Cazador said simply, a sneer managing to appear on his bloodied face, "And you have to admit, it worked wonderfully."

"You can kill him now if you'd like," You piped up from his side, staring down at the vampire like the trash he was, "Or...you can take his place."

You hesitated for a brief moment before steeling yourself, looking Astarion in the eye, "Whatever you choose, I'll be here for you. I promise."

Astarion nodded, weighing his options. It was so very difficult to not just kill him where he laid, like the pathetic dog he was. But then again...the ritual would mean endless power. Power that he could use to protect himself, to protect you. So nothing like this could ever happen again.

Astarion looked up, his eyes searching every last one of his brothers and sisters faces. They looked scared, perhaps even resigned to their fate. Just at the hands of another. Astarion hadn't expected the image to make him feel ill, yet it did.

Could he do it? Sacrifice them all, along with everyone else trapped in the bowels of their personal hell? He could. He knows he could. Yet...

He looked back at you, the only thing he had ever loved. The one person to show him a different way to live, who was giving him the freedom to be his own person. But... he wanted that person to be someone worthy of you. Someone who would make you proud.

And there was only one way to do that. Astarion let go of your hand, reaching for the dagger you kept at your belt before striding over to Cazador. He stabbed him with little fanfare, no warning, no chances to beg. And then he did it again, and again, and again. Until he lost count, until the body of his former master was mutilated, his chest nothing but unrecognizable gore.

He wasn't quite sure when he started crying again. He only realized it when he could barely breath through his own screams, every bit of rage, hurt, and humiliation that had been beaten into him coming straight to the surface. He sunk to his knees as he sobbed, tossing the knife to the side.

The whirlwind inside of him was too much, so overwhelming that he was afraid he'd be lost to it. But then he could feel it, you wrapping your arms around him, kneeling next to him as he broke down.

He clung to you, burying his face into your neck as he cried, desperate for your comfort, your touch. You were crying too he realized, your voice breaking as you gently spoke to him, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I should have been there to protect you. I love you, you did the right thing. I'm sorry."

You had nothing to apologize for, but that didn't stop your words from acting like a soothing balm to all of his internal wounds. But he would get through this. Because for the first time Astarion knew, without a shadow of a doubt he wouldn't have to get through it alone. With you by his side, he would never be alone again.

He wasn't sure how long you both spent there, kneeling in a pool of his tormentors blood. But he knew he felt different when he pulled away, changed.

Free.

He cupped your face, wiping away your tears while only managing to smear the mess about. But it didn't matter that you were both covered in blood and viscera, not when he had you.

"I love you too," Astarion whispered, finally allowing himself to unload the burden of hiding away from you. No more of that. He was yours, fully and completely, "I love you so much. I-I thought that this was it. That I'd never see you again. That you betrayed me-"

"Never," You interrupted, your voice fierce despite how it was breaking, "I never will. You're all I want, all I need. I should have been there, I'm so sorry-"

"No more apologies," Astarion murmered, pressing a quick kiss to your bloody mouth, "No more. We're here. That's all that matters."

You nodded, kissing him again, so sweet despite everything that should have made it sour. Despite his own words, Astarion couldn't help the white hot shame that passed through him. How could he have doubted you, even for a moment? Doubted this, the most beautiful that ever happened to him. Never again would he question what you had together, to let his mind be poisoned by others.

But there would be more time for the two of you later. The rest of your lives if he had anything to say about it. But for now...you freed him. And it was his turn to do the same.

Astarion pulled back, sighing as he looked around the room at his brethren. They were still hanging in the air, all privy to quite the show. He freed them, forgave them even, despite every horrid thing they'd done to eachother over the years.

But that didn't stop him from clocking Petras squarely in the face the second his feet touched the floor. The other man took it well enough, fully knowing that Astarion was capable of much, much worse. Though he was well aware that Petras had been compelled to kidnap him, it didn't change the fact that the punch was very satisfying.

As for the rest of the spawn, the thousands trapped here, he let them go as well. Down to the Underdark, where they could at least have a chance of controlling their feral nature before associating with mortals again.

Then it was time to leave this wretched place, forever. He would never be hurt here again, never controlled. He was free, finally. And with you by his side, what else could he ever ask for?

[jynxpsiche]

About daeho,can you write him being in the game and then meeting gn reader that was like taller than them whehagwgwgwg

OMG SURE BB! <3 so reader is like 6’4’’ (193 cm) a bit taller than our beloved! I implied reader as a foreigner and an aspiring model who got scammed !! Hope you like it! Thx for sending me this request and remember to stay hydrated!! <3 <3

futile insecurities

kang dae-ho (player 388) x gn!reader

🎐. summary: going to South Korea to try becoming a model was the dream that led you there in a foreign country. convinced that you finally found a recruiter you later learnt the truth behind it. so that’s why you decided to call that number and try to win some easy money to get back on track. but even if you felt all the prejudices from others you managed to find someone who appreciated you for who you really were.

🎐. warnings: gender neutral reader, no use of y/n, canon squid game gore and violence, minor swearing, reader is a foreigner, no proofread. English is not my first language!

requests are open !!

Screams and cries.

That was all Dae-ho heard in that fragment of time. People running desperate to somehow save their lives, pleadings and begs leaving their trembling lips hoping to leave that place after what they witnessed.

It should have been easy. An ‘in and out’ situation, you know? Just to gather some easy money to pay off some debts. To start a new decent life.

At least, that’s what Dae-ho thought. And supposedly everybody else, too.

Now they were running for their lives, escaping and avoiding the claws of death.

Shot after shot they fell to the ground not giving any signs of life. Their dull eyes staring off into space. No more light behind those empty gazes.

That unbearable sound of constant shooting overpowered the unstoppable screams and the former marine forced himself to stand still and to stay froze on the spot.

However, his will was slowly crumbling, the trembles in his fingers more persistent and clearly evident, but he tried to contain it. He couldn’t die like this.

Then a voice.

Like a signal sent from above to save them all.

The same man from the beginning of the game. Player 456.

He had played these games before, or so he declared, but right now that statement was becoming more convincing minute by minute.

It was true that when they were eliminated they were going to get killed. And the only way to survive and pass the game was to hide behind someone taller and form a straight line. The robot’s eyes couldn’t detect movements from behind something. And the player 456 proved it so.

Immediately Dae-ho offered his help, hiding behind his broad structure as many people as possible. It was in his genes to help others.

Numerous lines formed all over the field in no time and his eyes incredulously spotted a tall player leading one of the lines.

They were taller than an average korean person, so he supposed they were a foreigner. Their steps were quick and long and even with their tall height they seemed so agile and fast, ready to sprint if necessary.

When he glanced at them from time to time he felt a sense of tranquility pervade him. Watching them waltz through the field with that elegance and velocity helped him concentrate on his current goal: survive and pass the game.

And he did.

The moment he passed the finish line he felt like a huge weight had been lifted from his chest. But even after passing the game his mind was immediately on you.

He searched you through the players with an frenetic gaze, scanning everybody and then he spotted you, slightly crouched down and gently reassuring an old lady who couldn’t stop showing you her gratitude for saving her and her son’s life.

Slowly he approached you, the old lady and the son off somewhere else, leaving you alone.

He didn’t know why but he felt his pulse rushing and the blood pumping loudly in his veins. Trying to act casual he cleared his throat hoping to catch your attention. And he did.

You turned around with a quizzical look on your face and only then he noticed your big and bright eyes scrutinizing him from the bottom to the top. He also paid attention to how taller you were than him. He had to tilt his head up a bit.

He met your gaze and forcefully managed to send down the lump in his throat. Breathtaking. That was what he thought when he saw you.

“Can I help you?” Your soft voice reached his ears and for a moment he thought that in reality he was dead and the person in front of him was an angel. But he regained his focus.

"You...you're really tall" his mouth spat out those words without being processed by the brain first and he should have thought of better words to say because he immediately saw how your expression morphed from a confused one to and irritated one. "Thank you, I didn't know that" you barked back with a calm fury, even scarier than a normal one.

And after that statement you went your way without looking back in his direction and he felt devastated at that.

Dae-ho only wanted to get to know you better and to express his admiration for how you handled the game with cold blood.

With a fallen expression he followed the other players back to the dorm room when the game ended. A lot of people had been eliminated and of course the amount of money gained from their deaths convinced more of the majority to continue playing.

The former marine stared at the blue patch on his chest and a pressing weight tortured him again. He needed the money to pay of his debts. He didn't want to fret his family further, already too much on their plate.

During the vote he didn't really ponder about it too much, but simply followed his insticts and press the circle. Only when your number was called he noticed your slumped and insicure figure instead of the confident one he found on the field. He surely heard all the whispers coming from the others and how they were effecting you.

And it was then that Dae-ho realised he should have voted X. Beside his family, who was still good financially compared to him he had no one out there, but when you came into the picture, even though he didn't know you at all and somehow managed to offend you, he wanted to protect you.

You looked brave on the outside, but he knew how fragile and breakable you were on the inside. Just like him.

He felt a strange bond with you: for him you two were very similar. And maybe he wasn't so wrong.

His gazed stayed focused on your figure, he didn't miss the slight tremble of your hand when you pressed the red button and the quick little steps you took to join the other side opposed to his.

Regret was eating him alive. And he felt the need to redeem himself.

His attentive eyes immediately spotted your figure on the stairs where your bunk and also player 456's was situated. You had decided to stick with him, since both of you wanted to leave that place so bad.

Dae-ho slowly tried to approach you, your gaze fixated on the small tray of food in your lap, while player 390, another member of your 'team', was talking with player 456. You were oddly silent.

Only when he reached a rather close proximity the other two noticed him. You also acknowledged his presence and a cold expression settled on your face.

He still felt bad for how he had treated you, even if it wasn’t his original intention. He couldn’t change the past but was right on time to make the best out of the present.

Player 390 was the first to speak up, “what are you doing here?” Dae-ho froze on the spot and transferred his gaze from you to the old man now standing behind you, “I wanted to join your team. I found player 456’s speech really stimulating and I would like to help you all to get out of here.” He stated firmly after he took a deep breath of encouragement.

The man looked at him from head to toe, “I think I could be a good addition since I was a marine” he added, showing off his tattoo. At that sight the man proudly took off his hoodie and flashed him the same tattoo.

“If you want to get out…” the two men were interrupted by another voice “…then why did you vote to continue with the games?” It was player 456 who had spoken, his voice serious and unshakable.

His gaze was set on Dae-ho who gulped his anxiety and gathered some courage to face the supposed leader of the team. “Because I have no one and nothing waiting for me out there so I thought to give it a chance, but—“ he stopped himself, moving his gaze to your figure, warming up a bit, “then I found something worth fighting for…”

You noticed how his gaze was locked on you and the sudden warmth and gentleness in his eyes, making your heart skip a beat. So you simply adverted your gaze and focused it on your lap again.

You wanted to appear composed, his words from before still lingering in your mind.

Gi-hun also understood the reason behind the guy’s change of heart and with a small sigh he accepted Dae-ho into the team, convinced that someone like him would have been a great addition.

The young former marine thanked him profusely and then uncertainly took a seat beside that tall and breathtaking person. He wasn’t aware of being staring at them but they noticed since they felt his gaze on them, so they decided to call him out.

“What do you want now? It wasn’t enough what you had said earlier?” He immediately picked up their irked tone and considered this as the perfect opportunity to apologize and explain the situation.

“I’m sorry if I offended you before, it wasn’t my intention” he replied firmly but without looking at them in the eyes, still not brave enough to face them at the moment, “I must admit I had been shocked when I saw you” “but!” He immediately added, to avoid any type of misunderstanding “but…I didn’t find you strange or annoying like the majority of the players here…”

Dae-ho didn’t know if now he had to be sincere with them and possibly making a fool of himself or simply apologizing. They had been looked down enough by others and by how they know showed themselves, closed off and slightly insecure about their aspect, he felt the need to speak the truth, facing any type of consequences.

Gaining all his bravery the former marine locked his gaze with theirs, who were simply ogling at him during his speech, and when he did it was over for him: their big bright eyes observed at him with an indescribable warmth and surprise.

“actually…” he felt himself shift closer to them, their eyes never breaking contact, “…during the game I thought you were so brave and elegant. The grace you showed by crossing the field left me…breathless”

You widened your eyes at that statement, throwing you off guard.

No one had ever called you elegant or saw any type of grace in you.

You had always wanted to become a model and being blessed by such height was a gift and a sign from above. But unfortunately you lacked of delicacy and charm, making you feel humiliated and a failure.

When you tried different auditions you had always been rejected, neither being able to pass the first selection because they all grimaced when they saw you trembling on those heels.

Though, you never lose hope and always practiced with walking without stumbling or falling completely.

But things weren’t going great, you were also struggling financially since in the meantime you were working for minimum wage and every audition ended with the same negative evaluations.

You were tired and almost close to drop your dream but then you saw a light at the end of a tunnel: a recruiter came up to you one day and gave you his business card to arrange a proper meeting and to talk more clearly about a modeling stage.

You were thrilled. Maybe things were finally going your way!

And then…the disaster.

When you meet you met a second time with that recruiter you ended up spending a large amount of your life savings and only later, a couple of days after the encounter, you discovered by the news that a man, who pretended to be a model recruiter, had been arrested for fraud and scamming.

It was him. The same guy you had met in a cafe to fill in all the papers and to cover all the costs.

The police only arrested the man but there were no signs of the money he gained with his illegal activity.

The world was crumbling beneath your feet. You had reached your lowest and deepest point, now nothing was enough to save yourself from this situation you naively had pur yourself in.

A dream.

Only because you wanted to follow a stupid dream.

That’s why people locked them in the furthest part of their mind. They knew they were impossible to realize.

Still you needed to prove them wrong, how they just failed to pursue theirs and instead show them how you were going to make it.

In reality you only showed how you really were a failure. And they all had always been right from the start.

However, those words whispered so gently by him flabbergasted you, but in a good way.

They were like a lighter that ignited a new spark in your chest, in your soul. You felt…seen.

For the first time someone really saw you.

A boy who’s jacked and kind, making you believe in yourself again. Making your heart flutter for some praising words and making you feel all giddy inside.

You simply stared at him but with a new perspective; the hatred you felt for him immediately dissolved into thin air and was replaced by warm and a bubbling feeling in your chest.

“I’m sorry…” you whispered bashfully “for how I treated you…the first time” he understood what you meant and slightly smiled at you.

Chuckling softly he shook his head “it’s fine…really…i understand where that came from” “this whole situation…isn’t the best and if someone came up to you saying strange things…it’s totally understandable” he voiced your thoughts with a comforting and comprehensive tone.

You felt it again, the flutter and warmth in your chest.

“I’m y/n” he had never heard such a unique name, it fitted you so well. He tried repeating it, your name rolling off his lips in a low and tentative tone. You had never thought your name could have been so different and singular till now. He made it sound so pretty.

“I’m Kang Dae-ho” he then murmured leaning closer to you “Dae-ho…” you repeated back, your gaze locked into his. The ex-marine smiled and a small chuckle left his lips when your cheeks reddened for the embarrassment.

“If somebody tries to make fun of your appearance, I’ll deal with them, ok?” He reassured you “you don’t have to…I can take care of myself” you quietly stated, but he didn’t want to hear it.

“I’m serious…I will protect you. Whatever it takes.”

[aventurineswife]

The character was sitting peacefully and doing their own work with a surprisingly good mood today. Suddenly, the reader barges in and walks up to the character with urgency. After a few seconds of silent stares, they started begging their partner for a kiss like a starved stray. The way they were begging made it seem like the character denied them any kind affection. But the character is already used to their partner and their antics. (Kaveritas, [but the reader begs them separately while they're in different rooms, but the other person can hewr the begging and comes to check what's happening.] Shadow, Sunday, Argenti.)

A Kiss for the Starved

Tags: Kaveh x Reader x Ratio, Sunday x Reader, Fluff, Humor, Romantic comedy, Lighthearted, Playful teasing, Affectionate interactions, Emotional depth (Sunday), Slight angst (Sunday's internal conflict).

Warnings: Mild teasing or dramatization, Over-the-top affection, Brief mention of internal struggles (Sunday).

Kaveh sat at his desk, sketching out a new design for a building. The soft sound of his pen gliding across paper created a tranquil atmosphere, and for once, he was enjoying the peacefulness. His usually frenetic energy had subdued, and there was a serene smile on his face as he focused on the intricacies of his work.

Suddenly, the door burst open, and you walked in, your steps rushed, almost frantic. You immediately locked eyes with him, and Kaveh’s brow furrowed in confusion.

"Are you okay?" he asked, putting his pen down and tilting his head slightly.

Before he could react further, you took a deep breath, your lips curving into a playful pout. You walked toward him quickly, standing right in front of him. You blinked, looking at him with exaggerated longing.

“Kaveh,” you began, voice pleading. “Can I have a kiss? Please? Just one little kiss? I’ve been thinking about it all day, and I really need one right now…”

Your tone, drenched with feigned desperation, made it clear that you hadn’t been deprived of affection—at least not in a way that would justify the way you were now begging. Kaveh’s eyes widened, and his lips twitched into a small smile, amusement clear on his face.

He chuckled lightly, leaning back in his chair. “You’re... certainly acting as if I’ve been withholding affection, huh?”

You looked up at him with wide eyes, your hands dramatically placed over your heart. “I’m starving for it, Kaveh! Haven’t you noticed the deep hunger in my soul for your kiss?”

The words felt so over the top, yet sincere in their own way. Kaveh sighed, shaking his head but still wearing a fond smile. He was already used to your antics. “Oh, fine, but only because you’re so persistent.”

You threw your arms around him, pulling him into a kiss, but as you did, the sound of footsteps came from the hallway. Ratio, who had been in his own study, must’ve heard your dramatic plea.

Ratio appeared in the doorway, his sharp gaze locking onto you both. “What is going on in here?” he asked, his voice laced with a touch of exasperation. His tone had the familiar sharpness you knew all too well, but there was an underlying amusement in it.

Kaveh, holding you close, gave Ratio a pointed look. “It seems someone is in dire need of attention...”

You immediately dropped your act, turning to Ratio with a bright, teasing smile. “I need a kiss too, Ratio. You wouldn’t leave me starved, would you?”

Ratio’s lips twitched as his gaze softened. "You're insufferable," he muttered but made his way over, his arms folding across his chest as he leaned against the doorframe. "You’ve made it clear you’re desperate, but don't think I'll just hand it to you so easily."

You pouted, but the humor in Ratio’s voice softened your expression. His sharp gaze softened slightly, and before long, you were swept into his arms for a kiss. Kaveh gave a quiet laugh, watching the two of you, the warmth of the moment more than enough to satisfy all of you.

Sunday sat in a peaceful corner of the Astral Express, bathed in the soft light of the starry sky. His eyes were focused, scanning through some old philosophical texts. His wings fluttered lightly as he turned the pages, the golden halo behind him shimmering with each subtle movement.

The serenity of the moment was suddenly broken as you hurried into the room, eyes wide with urgency. Sunday’s gaze lifted from his book, his usual calmness never faltering. But there was something different about the way you stood in front of him now—something more desperate, almost theatrical.

You didn’t waste time. “Sunday,” you said, your voice full of playful pleading. “I need a kiss, please, just one! I can’t go on without it. I’ve been thinking about it for hours… you must know I’m starving for your affection.”

Sunday blinked, his eyes narrowing for a moment as if assessing the gravity of the situation. A soft sigh escaped him, and he closed the book with a small, knowing smile.

“You always have a way of making these requests, don’t you?” His voice was gentle, a slight chuckle lingering in the air. The unspoken truth was clear: he had seen this kind of behavior from you before. “I wonder, do you truly need a kiss, or is it simply your way of distracting me from my work?”

Your face lit up, realizing the gentle teasing in his words. You took a step closer, your hands playfully clasping together as if in prayer. “Please, Sunday, I’ve tried everything! But only your kiss will satisfy me now. Do you really want me to suffer? Do you?”

Sunday stood, his wings fluttering softly, and you could see the corners of his lips curve up. “You truly are relentless, aren’t you? Very well, I’ll indulge you.”

He closed the gap between you, and you felt the warmth of his presence envelop you as he gently cupped your face, his eyes locking with yours. His kiss was soft, yet full of quiet affection—a balm for your exaggerated dramatics.

For a brief moment, you could almost feel the tension within Sunday soften, as if your playful request had given him a break from the weight of his thoughts. His wings fluttered, and though his demeanor was as composed as ever, you could sense that you had cracked open a small, tender piece of his heart.

[purehrt]

18+ mdni.

THE SOUND OF TRICKILING WATER, accompanied by the little gasps and moans leaving you was music to his ears. hot water rained down your back, steam radiating off of your skin and swirling into the clammy air. wet hair tickled your stomach as spencer’s tongue dragged up your clit, earning a whine with his name attached.

the shower wall made an awkward squeak as your back arched against it, the bare skin of your thighs wrapped around your boyfriend's face, your legs now abandoned over his shoulders. his hands kept you pinned against the wall with minimal effort; his mouth continuing to worship you. spencer buried his face deeper between your thighs - each desperate moan you make only encouraging him further.

you were under his complete control, hypnotised. a whimper left your lips, his eyes burning holes into you, intoxicated at the sight of you in every way humanly possible. spencer held eye contact, your fingers swiped the dripping curls off his forehead, tugging on his soaked hair; pools of water forming between your fingers as they squeezed. “spence, fuck- please.” you begged through strained breaths, every muscle in your body on fire with the way his tongue worked on you.

you gasped, a rush of cold air hitting your pussy as spencer pulled his mouth off, a string of your wetness and spencer's drool connecting you both. “sound so pretty baby, so so pretty." he mumbled, half-lidded eyes staring up at you. the sight alone made you throb. your hips rolled forward in a desperate attempt to create some form of friction, the most pathetic whine leaving your chest. your boyfriend happily obliged when you pulled him back into you, his messy hair still tightly wrapped between each of your fingers.

eager to please as always, spencer circled his the tip of his tongue up your clit, dragging back down before continuing to devour you. the hot water running down your skin, in combination with the warmth of spencer’s mouth against your very sensitive clit left your mouth agape, eyes rolling back with a pant; your own breathless needy moans echoing throughout the steamed up tiled walls.

your head flew back against the bathroom wall, thighs clenching around spencer's head as every muscle tightened. he groaned against you in pure bliss; sending vibrations onto you that pushed you over the edge. desperate, whiny sounds bounced from wall to wall as a leg-trembling orgasm washed over you. his firm hand's kept you pinned on the wall - supporting your weight as you rode it out. his tongue never faltered, eyes drinking in the sight of you cumming all over his face. he thinks he might be the hardest he's ever been, another explicit low groan came from his parted lips - glistening from your sweet pussy.

your boyfriend let you recover whilst shamelessly watching your tits bounce, ego heavily boosted by the desperate mess he left you. now very out of breath, your chest heaved up and down. reassuring you were okay, concern briefly crossing his face; hazel eyes searching you for any signs of discomfort whatsoever.

your thumb reaching to smooth out the familiar wrinkle between his furrowed brows. your droopy half lidded eyes met spencer's, consoling his worries with the sweetest smile he's sure he'll ever see. with the help of his hands, you very slowly got off of him; legs still faintly shaking. your feet made a small splash in the water pooling below, sliding off of spencer's shoulders.

your boyfriend finally got up off of his knees, small red patches covering his kneecaps. hands immediately finding their way to cup your face, hushing your mutters of concern over his huge knee injuries he had just sustained. gentle kisses feathered all over your tired face, landing a sweet laugh from you. the light pitter-patter of water against the tiles filled the tranquil silence. a hum against your sticky damp skin, a quiet confession of his love.

he reached around you, damp skin brushing against yours. the familiar click of your shampoo bottle coming from behind you. spencer's long arm's laced around you as he disperses some product into his hands - emulsifying it between his palms before-hand. of course, being who he is, he took it upon himself many months ago to research the best way to wash hair.

long fingers carefully combed the shampoo suds through, ensuring not to cause even one tug on your delicate scalp. a slight moan left your lips, instantly relaxing as his hands worked like magic. any tension you previously had melted away at his touch. taking care of you like this was just second nature to him. he had so much love and care to give, which you graciously accepted at all times.

warm water ran over you both as he rinsed your hair, white soapy suds drip down your spine; head tilted back under the running water. spencer's hand finds its way to your forehead, preventing the suds from getting into your eyes. with zero objection from you, he begins to shampoo your hair for a second time; he read somewhere shampooing the hair twice cleanses it more thoroughly, and leaves a healthier scalp.

his fingers worked lightly, as if you were a porcelain doll ready to break at any minute. finishing rinsing his second shampoo out, he combs a hair mask throughout the ends of your hair; making sure it's evenly distributed throughout. you often think that if the FBI didn't work out for him, spencer would make a phenomenal professional hair washer, if that's even a real thing.

his arms scooped you up, connecting you both in a slow kiss. your pillowy lips pressed against his, further luring him deeper into your kisses. his breath tickled beneath your nose. "did so well, sweetheart." he mumbled into the kiss, hands keeping you deliciously close, finger-tips digging into the soft flesh of your waist.

[itsmemuffy]

Playing House (part one)

Contents: Old Man!Logan x fem reader, fluff, hurt/comfort, descriptions of bodily harm, tending to wounds, non-sexual nudity, alcohol use, faux infidelity, domesticity, lots of kisses 💋

Summary: A mysterious not-so stranger finds himself at your doorstep time and time again.

Author's Note: I've decided this version of him signs his initials after each text like a boomer. Also this is my first Old Man!Logan fic ♡

It was an especially dark evening. Not a cloud in the inky, bottomless sky with the newly minted moon neglecting to offer even a sliver of additional light. The night air was completely still, absent of the slightest breeze. And to your delight, the road home was also completely clear of traffic.

It has just so happened that tonight you had gotten off early from your job. A blessing considering you had been pulling a lot more double shifts as of late. As you turn the corner to your block, you roll down the window and let the crisp air fill your lungs. It was the first time this week you made it home before midnight.

By now, you should of taken notice of how the world completely stops whenever he comes around. You mistook the calm before the storm for tranquility.

Everything was lined up for a peacefully boring evening. Dinner was in the oven, candles were lit, and you were already on your second glass of wine when you decided to put on a movie. You chose one you had seen a dozen times before- something predictable to cement the mundanity of this night in with yourself.

The sound of the television drowned out the crunch of your gravel driveway underneath rolling tires. Then, out of nowhere, a notification pops up on your phone:

here. -LH

The river of blood flowing through your veins feels as if it has stilled. Your heart then skips a beat when you hear dragging footsteps at your front door. Logan doesn't knock. He never knocks.

You can chastise the man for showing up to your home at odd hours of the night, but he always waits until you see his message and let him in. From his point of view, this is the only thing seperating himself from a stray dog pawing and scratching at your door.

Logan could wait at your doorstep all night– and has.

Some nights he's luckier than others. There have been instances he would show up to your home at midnight only to sit on the porch until you woke up to use the bathroom at four in the morning. Logan thanks his lucky stars that you checked your phone when you did.

There was no consistency to his visits, either. When he inevitably left, you never knew if it was going to be days or weeks until you saw him again. A few rare instances it would be well over a month without seeing him. This was usually due to something outside of Logan's control. He kept his reasons to himself, leaving you to wonder if the separation was killing him as much as it killed you.

It was.

You had eachother's number, but there was a line- an unspoken boundary- you both shan't dare cross. His life was his own as was yours. From the moment you met, you immediately knew he was a man of many secrets. Still, you found yourself drawn to him.

At first it might have been the sense of danger that lit a fire within you. Between the cycle of work and home, an attractive older stranger was a welcome addition to your monotonous life. You couldn't help but open up that opportunity to let Logan have a spot in it. When you let him know if there is anything you need, you know where to find me, you didn't expect him to take you up on that offer.

The man was reserved, closed-off and kept to himself. Yet here he was, at your mercy time and time again- quietly begging for you to nurse him back to health like a sick puppy.

As soon as you opened the front door, the wide frame of a man slumped forward into your arms. Logan was never one for the dramatics, so you immediately recognized this as something serious. After you struggled to hold up his weight for a few seconds, you collapse with him to your knees. He stayed in your grasp under the buzzing porch light as you both sit in the doorway.

Minutes pass and it lends him enough strength to partially support himself. Joints creak as you force him to stand. Logan held on weakly with an arm around your shoulders as you traversed on wobbly steps toward the living room.

You all but throw him on the couch. Internally, you wince as he crudly flops on his back into the cushions. If you had the strength to support his crushing weight, you would of handled him quite a bit gentler.

It wasn't until you had him inside did you see the state he was in. Maroon patches of dried blood shared space with the lively red on his white button-up. Smears of clay earth stand out against the black backdrop of his slacks.

He leans into your tender touch as you gently maneuver him out of his filthy clothing. Logan watched with blurred vision as you urgently unbuttoned his shirt. Each slight movement intensified the sharp pangs within him, but the feel of the soft pads of your fingers as you care for him was enough to reduce it to a dull ache.

Dark liquor he had gulped down on the way to your place sloshed around in his belly as you turn him to tug down his pants, hitting Logan with a wave of nausea. It took all of his concetration to not hurl on your floor. He remembers a time where he could drink without consequences. Nowadays, his binging always came with a price. Foolish enough to think this indulgence could be his secret, he was ignorant to the fact that you immediately recognized the whiskey on his breath.

You strip him down to his boxers. The familiar softness of the fleece blanket you draped over your couch made contact with his skin as you position him more comfortably. Logan's heart painfully squeezes as you leave his side. A feeble hand grasps at your wrist when you get up.

"I'll be right back, dear," you kneel down to kiss the back of his hand. "I'll be quick, I promise." Logan can't remember the last time someone promised him anything.

He lay limp on your couch, awaiting your return. The flashing colors on the TV screen reflect off his eyes, but Logan doesn't register a single scene from the movie. He is much more focused on tracking your movements. His ears perk up as he hears the metallic clang of the washer door open and close. Your footsteps bring you to the kitchen sink and the faucet runs for a moment.

You return to his side and he immediately felt lighter as you worked a damp washcloth across his chest. The warm water relaxes his muscles as you clean up his wounds. You move to his face where the abrasions are shallower. After accessing the damage, you take a step back.

"What the hell did you get yourself into this time?" You try not to sound accusatory but there was no way he couldn't detect the concern in your voice.

Logan only groans in response. He hasn't said a word to you since he intruded on your night alone. He didn't need to.

"Nevermind. Don't tell me, I don't wanna know," you stand up again, anxiously wringing the rag in your hands. "You're still filthy, I'll run you a shower."

He's left alone again on your couch. Even in his underwear, he feels uncomfortably hot. The affects of his inhebreation starts to fade from his mind, leaving Logan to squirm and shift as his body processed the alcohol.

You let the shower head run for a minute, testing the temperature with your hand. Once the water has reached a desirable warmth, you leave Logan to remove the rest of his clothes and wash himself. He's more mobile now, his regenerative ability assisting him at snail's pace. You let out a sigh of relief but you know that a deeper, more constant pain is working its way beneath the surface.

A timer rings out from the kitchen, startling you. By now you have completely forgotten about dinner. You use the time he's spending in the shower to prepare him, and only him, a plate. Somehow you've lost your appetite.

From the hall, Logan opens the bathroom door. His broad form emerges from the steam like something out of a movie. A towel is wrapped snugly around his waist and beads of water hang off of the dark hair clinging to his chest. There are times you second guess what exactly it is that is keeping you tethered to him. This is not one of those times.

Young and foolish, meet old and reckless.

You dress him in an oversized band tee and colorful novelty boxers- the only articles in your wardrobe that would fit Logan. He begrudgingly puts them on and you remind him you can't wash his clothes any faster.

"Didn't want to come home to your wife all bloodied and bruised, huh?" You chide with a hand on his arm, pulling him into you.

Logan exhales, surrendering into your embrace like he always does. "Fer the last time, don't got'ta wife," he grumbles, voice muffled by your shoulder. His beard prickles at your skin and you giggle at the sensation.

The truth is, you knew very little about Logan's personal life. He told you he took care of his father and that it wasn't the kind of place to take a girl like you home to. Maybe you were foolish enough to believe him. Still, you liked to bust his chops about it.

"Hmm... sure," an obvious smirk creeps across your face as you pull away to look at the man before you. "Would she mind if I kissed it better."

You could never hide what you were thinking from him. That was one of his favorite things about you- an earnestness that the world so often stole from people.

Logan lets out a reluctant chuckle that vibrated against your chest. "I suppose what she doesn't know won't hurt 'er," large hands start to run up and down your back, restoring his own vigor with every second spent in your arms.

He is always willing to participate in your little games. Logan used you like a drug. Just your presence was enough to take his mind somewhere else and now he's found himself starting to get drunk again. By the time your lips are on his, he was already too far gone.

You prepared for a kiss that was tender but quick, not wanting to push Logan in his current physical state. He catches you by surprise when he holds you to him, keeping your mouths locked together until he gets his fill. He takes turns between capturing your top and bottom lip, needily sucking at them between every shallow kiss.

Only do you break the embrace when you need to catch your breath. You lead him to sit back down on the couch, placing a pillow at his back. Once you make sure he's settled, you make yourself comfortable next to him.

Evident in the way you look at him, Logan refuses to meet your eyes with his own. It's almost too much for him to handle- how your eyes follow every inch of exposed skin, struggling to make the ever so dire decision of where on his flesh to worship first.

You lean in and decide to start at his neck, soft lips working at his throat in a flurry of delicate kisses. He maps the trail you are making until you reach with the sensitive spot behind his ear. This is where you run your tongue over and you swear you could feel him shiver.

"Don't tell her I've been feeding you," you nudge the previously prepared plate towards him on the coffee table. "I would be furious if another woman was cooking for my husband."

Logan sighs. The way you've been at his service tonight has been making him slightly uncomfortable. Deep down he knows he doesn't deserve this. He can't handle disappointing you, so he continues to play along.

"Better stop with 'at, wifey says I've been puttin' on some weight," he protests with a glint in his eye. "I reckon she may be gettin' suspicious."

There was a hint of truth hidden in the charade. Charles has been making the occasional comment about his physical state. He made note of the way Logan was filling out his shirts nicely again as opposed to hanging loosely off of him like some sort of biology classroom skeleton.

"Are ya just gonna watch me eat?"

"No I, um..." you looked to the side to avoid his gaze, "I had a late lunch. Spoiled my dinner."

There was no way you were going to vocalize how seeing him in pain affected you- how it twisted up your gut in a heavy knot. Any time you spent with Logan was sacred. For just a single night at a time, no outside concerns should come creeping in.

"How about we get some sleep, yeah? I think that's what be both need more'n anything," Logan affectionately tucked strands of hair behind your ear. He noticed your disappointed expression and took pity. You lived for when Logan complimented your cooking. "Looks delicious, hon. Can't wait to have sum in the morning."

The morning. Oh how you dreaded it. With the sunrise came another day of letting him go. You pushed that concern into the back of your mind, eager to crawl into bed after the long day you've both had.

He places his plate on the counter and waits for you to lead the way into your bedroom. No matter how many times you've let him in, Logan has a creeping fear that one day you'll change your mind and banish his tarnished soul to the couch where he belongs. You start down the hall, looking back at the man and beckoning towards him.

You look like an angel but with his luck, you're probably the devil in disguise- leading him to where he'll be damned for eternity. This doubt dissolves as soon as he finds himself in your bed. Surrounded by everything soft, engulfed by your scent. Yeah, this must be heaven. Suppose he had died tonight, succumbing to his injuries. He would count himself lucky if this is where he ended up.

He watches you from the far side– his side– of the mattress. You stand before your dresser, peeling each article of your work clothes off one by one. The presentation is clumsy as you are eager to change into something more suitable to sleep in. Still, Logan was observing with great interest.

Nothing the finest gentleman's club could offer would compare to the domesticity of you stripping to climb into bed with him. He ignores the slight stiffening between his legs. The man knows he is too tired and weak in his current state to do anything about it. Instead of letting his pride take the hit, Logan counts his blessings. Maybe in the morning he'll be rested enough to take care of your body like you have for him.

You change into a big shirt and a colorful pair of cotton panties- a uniform similar to your temporary lover's. The fact that Logan was wearing your clothes excited you in a way you didn't expect. Sure, just the thought alone incited a warm, fuzzy wave of arousal. More than anything, however, it gave you hope that maybe he was yours. Perhaps the name of your favorite band across his chest was symptomatic of something more.

Your elbows and knees sink into the bed as you crawl your way towards him. He lays on his back and observes you with baited breath. Anticipating your next move always filled Logan's stomach with butterflies. Never in his sober state would he ever come close to acknowledging this feeling, but he's drunk off of your affection. If only he could bottle this sensation and savor it when he was alone.

Dark, hazel eyes stare up at you when climb over him and hold yourself up above his body. You maintain the eye contact, waiting to see who cracks first. After only a few seconds, the corners of Logan's lips twitch upwards and he turns his head to the side to hide the evidence. Knowing he got caught, he lets out a small burst of laughter through his nose. You won in record time.

You lower yourself to lay on top of him where you felt his heartbeat against your own, eventually becoming one integrated rhythm. He strokes your hair as you lay on his shoulder, short nails gently scratching at your scalp.

Despite the events of today putting him through the ringer, he drifts off into the most restful sleep he's had in a long time. Logan knows deep down what this power you hold over him is. This is the kind of safety that could only be achieved by someone loving you as much as you love them.

Yeah, this is love.

[moonlitstoriess]

Across the Universe-ch.4 (Fenrys x Reader)

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

Warnings: mentions of trauma, abuse, suggestive themes but no smut yet

See masterlist

She was 13.

He came home furious. Shaking his wings from the ice and snow stuck to them. Today was the Winter Solstice. Y/n always liked to imagine how normal families, normal faelings celebrated this magical day. Presents, delicious food, games, dancing, laughing and singing all night long. How warm, loved and happy they are. Then she turned her head from the window and came back to reality as she saw his angry face staring right at her.

But, as if the Mother took pity on her for just this special day, he walked past her to his room. Maybe, she could ask him then. Maybe, this time he will listen.

"Today is Winter solstice."

He froze midway, turned around and looked at her, his scarred and bearded face forming a scowl as he said, "And?"

She took a deep breath. It was now or never. "Maybe...maybe we could celebrate it. Like a normal family."

"Like a normal family."

"Y-yes. You could buy me a present and if you give me money, I could buy you one too. Maybe you could help me coo-"

A harsh slap right across her left cheek.

He grabbed her jaw and squeezed it harshly as he spat at her face, "You idiot! Why should I waste my money on a useless whore? And how dare you suggest that I, a respected Illyrian warrior, a captain for fuck's sake, stoop so low as to help you cook?"

She simply stared at him with emotionless, dead eyes. Begging, cring and pleading would do her no good. She learnt it the hard way.

He smirked, "On second thought, if you love this foolish day so much, why shouln't I give you your gift."

The next thing she knew, he was stripping her bare and throwing her out into the freezing, unforgiving cold of the Illyrian mountains. He laughed as he said, "Happy Winter Solstice you pig." and with that, he shut the door to her face, leaving her to freeze to death.

Two hours and fifteen minutes. She knew it because as she knelt with her knees to her naked chest, she counted every second, every minute that passed by. Not once did she cry. She only prayed for the Mother to make her death as painless as possible. By the time her feet and fingers were getting blue, she had already collapsed and got covered in snow.

When she awoke, he was in the room, standing next to her bed, acting concerned, "Sweetness, forgive me, I did not know what came over me. But you had to somehow understand that Winter Solstice is only celebrated by fools and although you ARE an idiot, I can not allow you to still be manipulated by all that high fae bullshit."

She could not breathe. Everything became too tight. She was drowning. She could no-

A hand. A hand was stroking her head. There was a voice...so distant now. A male voice but...who? The hand was rubbing calming circles all over her back. Everything was foggy, so blurry. The comforting touch made her feel so light...like a feather and so free. She felt like she was lying in a field of flowers now. She felt the storms within her quiet.

Calm. Tranquilent.

Then, the soft touch was gone and y/n awoke immediately. But there was no one in the room. Only the light coming from the moon, illuminating the room through the curtains and the absolute silence of the place were there to keep her company.

By the early signs of sunrise, y/n was already awake and ready to fight some of this stress and pressure out. She found some training gear in the wardrobe which consisted of black, tight pants and a long sleeved tight shirt that was custom made to accomodate her wings. How Aelin managed to get such a shirt for her in a matter of hours, was a question to which she had no answer. With a final touch to her hair, y/n exited her room in search of a tarining area.

This palace was enormous. The walls were covered in white and gold. She passed room after room, went down stairs after stairs. How rich are they? For a queen that fought in a war 3 years ago, Aelin has done very well in improving her courts living standards. Y/n only hoped that the same applied to the rest of Terrasen. To the common people living within villages.

After reaching the ground floor and taking a couple of turns after asking some servants and taking a 3 minute walk outside the West wing, y/n managed to find the the training area. It was an open, medium sized, circular ring, surrounded by grassy mainlands and small hills. In the distance, you could see the forest. On the left side, there were rows and rows stacked with weapons and other training equipment while on the left side, there was a table with a pitcher, probably with water inside, on it and some chairs and lying mats. Opposite to her on the other side of the ring, was a dummy strapped to a wooden holder.

With a quick stretching out, y/n took some binds for her hands and then walked towards the dummy. She hoped that starting out with punches and kicks would somehow sedate her growing anger. Besides, it has been 3 whole days since she last trained. As she began punching, her anger seemed to only increase. Anger at Azriel? At the rest of her family? At the Book of Breathings? At Aelin and her court? No, she was angry at herself. How weak could she be? She was pathetic really. First she let that monster dictate her life for 20 years, then she was stupid enough to fall in love with a male who played her, and now she is weak enough for letting those horrible past days come to her as nightmares.

She killed him. He was gone. She was trained to be better than this. Stronger. But...he was still winning. Even in death, he was haunting her. And Azriel...how foolish could she be to open up to him about everything, show him her raw and vulnerable side, trust him, only to be betrayed by him. What a joke she was for thinking that she got a happy end. Never again. Never again will she ever be foolish enough to be with a male, let alone trust him. Such a coward, so-

"What are you doing here?"

She knows that voice. How could she not after it has been the most aggravating thing that she has ever heard. So infuriating and yet...so hypnotizing. As much as she hated him and his voice, she would also find herself yearning to hear i- No. Stop. He is rude and unapologetic and thinks only of himself. Now her anger shifted again. This time to the male standing behind her, waiting for a reply.

Y/n turned around with a glare but felt herself foam at the mouth as she took in the sight in front of her.

Fenrys was standing in the center of the ring, half naked. His soft, shining hair was put up in a half bun, his broad, extremely muscled and scarred chest and arms were put on display as she devoured the view starting from his throat going down to his v line and then...he was wearing loose black pants and some combat boots.

She must have been staring at him for who knows how long because he said, "Did you enjoy slithering your way into my queens embrace?"

All the growing lust she felt suddenly got washed away as she felt like a cold water was dumped over her. Does he truly think so lowly of her? How dare he. How dare he assume such things about her.

"Seems like you are really pissed about me being here. Mind telling me why on earth you were so rude to me yesterday?"

He turned around towards the weapons as he said, "I meant what I said. You may think you have everyone fooled with your games but not me. I watch your every move."

She smirked as she said, "So obsessed. Might as well create a whole devoted circle in my honor. You and Lorcan could be it's representatives or leaders."

At that, he turned around and slowly started stalking towards her as he said, "You should start praying to whatever being you believe in to help you find your way home quicker because if you don't leave this place soon, I am afraid it won't be nice for you."

He was around two meters away from her now. Not close but also not far.

"Oh really? And what will happen to me, I wonder? Are you going to turn into your big bad wolf form and eat me?"

At that, Fenrys smirked as he said, "Trust me, many ladies would agree that I do not need my wolf form to eat someone."

Y/n slightly blushed but still held her ground as she said, "Those ladies must surely be blind if you are their type."

They were close now. So close she could feel his breath hitting her skin. His woodsy and vanilla scent was hitting her nose now. His nostrils flared slightly and his pupils dilated. He stared right into her eyes as he slowly said, "You want to let your frustration out? Come fight me."

Y/n, still in a haze, only asked, "W-what?"

He smirked slightly and stalked back "Let us see the infamous Y/n who is so legendary in her world."

She shook her head as if forcing her body to wake up from the haze she was in as she scoffed and said, "I do not train with uncultured animals."

He only stared at her from the center again as he said, "Scared, princess?"

It seems like that was the push she needed because at that moment she wanted nothing more than to punch his infuriatingly handsome face. She started stalking closer towards the center of the ring as she said, "Alright. But only to prove to you how weak you are compared to me."

He smirked but said nothing as they both took their positions, opposite to one another. Before they could start, she gave him a slightly puzzled look "Aren't you going to put binds on your hands?"

"I do not need protection for my knuckles."

Y/n rolled her eyes "How impressive of you."

"I know what you are doing."

"Really? and what exactly am I doing."

"Trying to get me to talk so you could get the first pu-"

Fenrys did not get to finish his sentence as y/n lunged for him. But he quickly sidestepped her, his movements fluid and precise, as he threw a quick kick to her shin that sent y/n staggering backwards. In a skilled move, y/n lunged forward, aiming a powerful uppercut at Fenry's jaw. He managed to deflect the blow, but it left him momentarily off balance. Seizing the opportunity, y/n delivered a swift kick to his abdomen, sending him staggering backward.

As Fenrys stumbled, y/n launched herself forward, tackling him to the ground with a resounding thud. They grappled fiercely, rolling across the pavement in a tangled heap of limbs and adrenaline.

Despite Fenry's strength, y/n's agility gave her the upper hand. With a deft twist, she managed to pin him beneath her, straddling his chest as she pressed his arms firmly to the ground.

Their breaths came in ragged gasps, the heat of their exertion mingling with the chilly air of an early morning. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as they gazed into each other's eyes, the intensity of their connection sparking something deeper than mere anger or frustration.

He was always breathtaking. As if he was sculptured from marble. But now, as she lied there, chest to chest with him, she could see how absolutely marvelous he was. Such sharp and defined facial features, slight golden freckles, and those tempting lips. Cauldron boil her she really should get up if she did not want him smelling any of her arousal that was surely starting to grow. But...he felt so warm and his abs that were right beneath her....and then lower, she felt his-

"So this is y/n?"

Y/n immediately pushed herself off of him as Fenrys quickly sat up. They both looked to their left to see the source of the voice. It was a girl with red-gold hair and seemingly golden eyes. She did not look too small, more like just hitting puberty. She has deep scars on both of her cheeks but despite that, she was still very beautiful.

"Eva, what are you doing here?" Fenrys said as he got up and went towards the girl.

She ignored him as her curious eyes stayed trained on y/n "When I first heard of your arrival, I really really wanted to meet you but then Lysandra said no and then you fell unconscious and thennnn you were brought to Aelin again and I really really begged her to let me also see you but Aelin said no. That you may be dangerous- Oh sorry I should not have said that." she clearly was embarassed because she looked down.

Y/n giggled as she said, "Do not worry. What is your name?"

The girl seemed to quickly forget her moment of embarrassment as she smiled brightly and jogged towards y/n "Evangeline! But everyone calls me Eva. Lysandra and Aedion are my parents- well not real parents because they adopted me- Oh wow! you do have wings! may I touch them? Please please please"

She smiled as she looked at Eva and said, "Nice to meet you Eva, my name is y/n. You are very sweet but unfortunately I do not like when my wings are touched."

A frown appeared on her small face as she asked, "Why?"

"Because they are quite sensitive so if someone touches them without my permission, I will punch first then ask the questions. For those like me, wings are our most cherished possession." and with that, y/n's finger's booped Eva's nose as the little girl smiled and said, "I understand! I also get angry when someone touches my things without permisson."

Then, suddenly, Fenrys came closer as he sweetly said to Eva, "Is there something you needed sweetheart?"

"Breakfast is being set up, Lysandra allowed me to come and call you guys."

"That is very nice of you Eva, but I need to train some more-"

"We will be there in a minute, sweetheart" Fenrys cut y/n off to which, she gave him a glare.

Eva nodded before turning around and running to the palace.

"I am not hung-"

"You have been here since Gods know when. Your body needs food to stabilize it after all the energy it generates. Thought you knew that."

She scoffed "I do know that I am just not feeling-"

"Well, that is too bad because you are still coming to eat."

The way he said it left room for no questions as she sighed and followed him. As they were walking, y/n smiled a little as she said, "Is Eva always this talkative?"

At the mention of the little girl's name, Fenrys also smiled as he said, "On the contrary. She is very quiet and observant. She only gets like this when she is around us. And seemingly you. But who can blame her, the things that child went though..."

Fenrys quickly shut himself up before saying any more private things that he had no right saying. Not unless Lysandra or Eva felt comfortable sharing it with y/n. She did not ask him anything else as she understood and respected his silence.

By the time they reached the dining room, everyone was there. This room was less formal but luxurious enough nonetheless. The ceiling and the ground were both pale gray. To her right, there was a large floor to ceiling window with green drapes over it. The walls were pale green but they had silver floral designs over them. There were also candles in silver holders attaged to the walls. Finally, at the center of the room was a table which had multiple delicious-looking meals on it. Around the table were pale green chairs with silver legs. And on the chairs, were Aelin and the rest of her court.

"Y/n! Fenrys! come you two. Since you arrived last, you get those last two seats. Try not to kill one another." Aelin said while smiling as Aedion let out a snort and Lysandra cackeled.

Indeed, there were only two empty seats left at the end of the table. Y/n knew luck was never on her side but atleast now would be agood time for someone to switch places with her. Fenrys tensed beside her but quickly regained his calm before moving to sit on the chair.

When she also sat down, she noticed that there were 2 more children around. One looked like he could be 3, sitting on Lorcans lap while the other was a complete newborn snuggling in Elide's arms. When she saw y/n's look, Elide smiled as she said to her, "Y/n, these are our sons, that is Blaise, he is 2 and this...this newborn angel is Theon."

"They are adorable" she said with a smile

As they began eating, Aelin said to her, "I have made sure that you are granted acess to all the royal libraries here as you begin your search. Parallel with that, we will also be looking into the matter of the Wyrdgates because we think that now there is a possibility that one of them has ripped open. If that is the case, we must search for a way to close it again."

"Ugh not this again. We went through enough trouble the first time around, I can barely stand dealing with it the second time." Lysandra said with a sigh that had Aedion putting his hand behind her back to caress it.

"Well, I was too young back then to help you guys but I am old enough to do so now!" Eva said with a big and proud smile.

"You were 11 then, you are 14 now. Still too young. Not a chance." Aedion said with a teasing smirk before sticking his tounge out at her.

She huffed as they started their bickering session that had Lysandra rolling her eyes but still smiling.

Through her peripheral view, y/n saw how Fenrys was full on smiling. Not the teasing, annoying smirks he would give her, but a full, big genuine smile. Of course he would be at peace here. It seems like they all endured a lot and only had each other to protect and lean on. But, she knew, somehow felt it that he was sometimes putting on a mask. How no one noticed it as well was beyon her grasp. He had secrets. Nightmares. Ones he probably has not shared with anyone. That is understandable. After all, this could possibly be the only thing in which y/n can relate to him. They all had their dark secrets, past memories they tried to bury long ago.

Once breakfast was over, she joined Aelin and Lysandra on their trip to the library while Elide, together with Eva, took her newborn to sleep.

Fenrys had to go for his daily run as a wolf. It was something he has been doing a lot recently. It would help ease his visions of Connall's and Gavriel's death, his times with Maeve and the war. It has been 3 years already, they won the war, Maeve is dead, Erawan is dead, no more Valgs, everything is getting better. By now he should have moved on, felt less guilty and more happy. But he has not. Gavriel is dead while he is alive, his own brother is dead while he is alive. He was there when Maeve killed Conall, he could have done something to stop her. But, instead, he watched like a fucking coward. So now, as he left Lorcan and Rowan in the latters office, he shifted to his wolf form and headed towards the forest to once again, temporarily get rid of the growing shadows that surround him. He has been getting so aggressive lately.

It did not help that Aelin gave y/n a room that was right next to his in the West wing. Annoyed would be an understatement to describe his emotions. But, maybe it was because of the thin wall seperating them that he heard her moans of anguish, her nonstop chants of 'pleasepleaseplease' or maybe it was because he felt this sudden tug within him, urging him to go to her. Her energy and emotions were mixing with his own, he felt like he was suffocating too. He felt her pain. Even though he had promised himself to ignore her, to hate her with the hopes that whatever this feeling was would pass, he could not ignore her anguish. And so, he winnowed himself to her.

She was struggling, tears were staining her red cheeks, hair was all over the place, as she tossed and turned while still pleading to whoever or whatever it was she was seeing. It made his heart physically hurt to see her in so much discomfort. He quickly but carefully sat down next to her and put his hand on her back, rubbing calm circles over it.

"Y/n."

She did not hear him. Did not wake up. Did not stop her panick.

He tried again, with a more gentle voice, "Y/n, please."

She did not wake up but it seems like she heard him as her movements slowed slightly.

Taking it as a chance, Fenrys slipped his hands through her hair and barely managed to hold back his moan. Her silky hair was the softest thing he has ever touched. He started caressing it while saying very gently, "Princess please come back." "Come to me y/n, follow my voice." "I know you can come out of it. You are not weak."

At that, she calmed down completely as her tears stopped and her heart rate went back to normal. She was deep asleep again. That was his cue to leave but, he did not want to. She was beautiful. The moonlight only added to her serene state. He felt himself smile. Maybe he should not be so rude to her, maybe they could get along- What was wrong with him? She is a stranger, a possible enemy from another world and even if his queen welcomed her, he would keep his eyes on her constantly until the moment she left this place and he would be finally freed of her. And so, with a final look at her, he winnowed himself out.

Then, just this morning when he came to the training grounds to clear his mind, imagine the shock on his face when he saw the feisty little fireball furiously punching the dummy.

He was trying to get rid of her and yet, there she was, glaring at him from the other side of the ring. Not to mention how her tight little training gear brought really filthy images to his mind.

And then, when he walked closer to her, he saw how every thought emptied from her mind as she took him in. As if that was not enough, her sweet arousal hit his nose which had him witholding a groan and staggering backwards before he did something stupid.

When she pinned him down to the ground, he could only think about her warm, plush body on top of his. How perfectly they fit together, like 2 missing pieces of a puzzle. He was about to give in to his lust when Eva saved him by interrupting their little moment. He would have to buy a new fantasy book for her as a sign of gratitude.

She is everything that he hates. Annoying, too curious, aggressive, so self centered. He should really help his family on finding a way to get her out of here immediately. Or else...or else Fenrys is afraid of what may come next.

The library was huge. Tall shelves with rows and rows of books, massive windows that displayed the waterfalls and the green lands of Terrasen, marble floors that shined with the light streaming in from the sun and finally, couches, lounge chair, low tables were at every corner you turned. Gold and white was all around her.

At y/n's mesmerized face, Aelin says, "This library is the most valuable one of all the rest. It was destroyed during the conquest so what you see now is the renovated version, but I did try my best to make it look like how I remembered it."

Y/N gazed around in awe, absorbing every detail of the magnificent library. The sunlight filtering through the tall windows cast a warm glow over the room, illuminating the intricate carvings on the shelves.

"It's breathtaking," she breathed, turning to look at Aelin.

Aelin smiled, her eyes sparkling with memories of the past. "It's my pleasure," she replied, her voice soft yet filled with pride. "This library holds centuries of knowledge, wisdom, and history. It's a sanctuary, a place where one can lose themselves in the pages of a book and find solace in the words written by those who came before us."

"I can see why it's so important to you," Y/N said softly, reaching out to trace her fingers along the spine of a particularly ancient-looking tome. "It's more than just a library, isn't it? It's a symbol of everything you've fought for, everything you've lost, and everything you hope to achieve."

Aelin's smile faltered slightly, a shadow passing over her features before she nodded. "Yes, it is," she admitted, her voice tinged with a hint of sadness. 

Lysandra, who was watching the interaction with sharp eyes, came closer as she said, "It is also our best chance at finding something related to the issue at hand sooo...let us start. Where is Marcus or any of the other librarians?"

Aelin shrugged as she said, "I did not want any word getting out and causing everyone stress which is why I gave them a day off so we can search for it on our own."

Y/n nodded as she said, "Alright then, I think it would be more efficient if we seperate. I will go to the back rows."

After receiveng a nod from them, she stalked towards the far end. But what they failed to note is that Illyrians were always favored for their keen hearing. Which is why, when they thought y/n was a safe distance away they exchanged quick words that had her feeling lucky for her small asset.

"Anything suspicious?"

"No, she truly seems genuine in her actions."

"Maybe, but let us still keep our eyes on her."

And with that, they moved in different directions, going to search for books.

Y/n should have known that they would have their eyes on her. Well, it is not like she trusted them either so if spying on her made them feel better, then so be it.

One hour had already passed before y/n managed to find a very promising book that looked quite recent, but something within her drew her to pick it. Which led to her, Aelin and Lysandra to gather around one of the tables to see what the book held.

"Are we sure that this one will hold the answers to what we need? It looks quite new." Lysandra said with a curious glance at the book.

"I am not sure. But my feelings have never betrayed me. I feel like this book has something important in it."

Aelin sighed as she said, "Well, there is only one way to find out."

With a hopeful heart, y/n opened the unharmed, clean book. But despite its fresh covering, its pages were old, archaic, so yellow that it was almost brown-gold. It was as if this book was made in this way to steer everyone away by fooling them with its modern covering.

The first few pages were all talking of things that were of no interest to them. But it was a certain page that stood out to her after a couple of minutes of flipping through them.

"It's about the Valg," Y/N murmured, her voice barely audible above the hushed rustle of pages. "But it goes deeper than that. It speaks of gates, of worlds beyond our own, and the mysteries of the Book of Breathings."

Aelin's eyes widened with intrigue, her lips parting in silent wonder as she absorbed Y/N's words.

"The Book of Breathings? the one you have in your world? the one that sent you here in the first place?" Lysandra asked, now leaning over the table to read the pages.

Y/N nodded, her gaze fixed on the ancient text before her. "According to this," she continued, her voice trembling with awe, "the Book of Breathings is more than just a relic. It's a key, a gateway to other realms beyond our own. Just like the Wyrdkeys. In fact, what if there is a 4th Wyrdkey and that book is the one? And the Valg... "

Both Aelin and Lysandra were peering over her shoulders now, as Aelin quickly said, "What? The Valg what?"

"I-i don't know. I can not tell. The rest of the pages are in a language I do not understand."

All three females stared dumbfounded at the book, none of them knowing the ancient language written within.

"Look, there is something else in our language." Lysandra said as she pointed to the corner of the page.

There, a small writing that said:

“When shadows loom and darkness reigns,

The gates will open, breaking chains.

In fire and blood, they'll rise anew,

But only a chosen few can undo.

In the heart of a queen, strength resides,

To close the gates and stem the tides.

Yet fate may twist, the cycle's rhyme,

And darkness may reopen the gates in time."

"A prophecy..." Aelin said, still in deep thought as she re read the lines.

Lysandra sighed "This is very confusing."

"I don't understand, this prophecy seems to be talking about what needs to happen for the gates to open but darkness? shadows? you won the war though."

Lysandra nodded as she continued, "And this specific line that says 'in the heart of a queen, strength resides' makes no sense if this prophecy talks about how the gates may open after they were closed. Aelin is strong, but not when it comes to her powers, not anymore. So how is she supposed to close the gate when her magical strength has already been depleted?"

"And how is it connected to the Book of Breathings? Why did it send you to our world?" Aelin said, a serious look overtaking her face. The Aelin from a few hours ago was gone, in her place stood a true warrior queen who was worried for the safety of her people, of her world, who would do anything to keep the balance and peace.

Y/n sighed as she said, "We won't get any answers until we manage to decipher this ancient and foreign language."

Aelin and Lysandra nodded as the latter said, "But how? I do not think any of us know of this language and Aelin said we can not involve external sources so what do we do?"

Y/n said, "I have- had a close friend back at home. She could always decipher these kinds of things. I always admired her patience to sit, locked up in her house for days, not leaving until she figured it out."

Y/n had a sorrowful, nostalgic look on her face as she gazed through the large window to the outer world, remembering Amren. Her closest companion. Did she even care for y/n? What was she doing now?

Unbeknownst to her, Aelin and Lysandra were both staring at her, with a pitiful look on their faces. A look that conveyed how they felt for her, so lost and away from home.

Aelin put a gentle hand on her shoulder to bring her back to reality as she softly said, "I am sure we shall find a way. Come now, let us take the book and leave. We got what we needed."

Once they left the library with the book in y/n's hands, a servant came running towards them as she bowed at Aelin and said, "My queen, the Hand of the King Chaol Westfall and his wife lady Yrene Westfall have arrived at last."

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

A/n: Over 5k words! It seems like this number will only go higher as the plot thickens which, believe me it will. So much is coming you guys, but for now, I thank you for taking the time to read this and see you in the next chapter <3

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[lotties-ashwagandha]

CLEANSED IN STILLNESS

valeria garza x reader

word count 1.2k, requested by my pickle peter @elaci

valeria gets cut by her own knife during the interrogation of a hostage, but you're there to tend to her wounds.

As you slipped through the halls of Valeria’s estate, you found peace in the silence. It was a blessing after the last few hours you’d been put through. 

A hostage had been given to Valeria by her men in the aftermath of their conflict with the Mexican Special Forces. Valeria put him in the basement, and he had been given a chance to talk of his own will, but after an hour of refusal your girlfriend had gotten impatient and things began to get messy. You were able to hear it as the man had begged for his life, and you had heard every cry of agony, every scream that cut through the tranquil stillness of the rest of the house. 

Now, silence had returned. The only noise plaguing the mansion consisted of your footsteps as you sauntered contentedly toward the kitchen. You glanced briefly down the stairs that led to the basement on your way, and an ache settled in your chest — you missed the company of your girlfriend and despised the man who had occupied her attention all day. Even if he had ended up dead, you still believed him privileged to have been her immediate focus for such a long time. 

Though she had been out of reach for a while, Valeria would be coming up from the basement soon. She had people to clean up the mess left by the interrogation so she didn’t have to. They would prepare it for the next to fall. 

You paused at the start of the next corridor. The light in the bathroom was on, and the door was left open, and you could hear items slamming about in the medicine cabinet above the sink. You jumped at the sound of something landing on tile, and a moment later Valeria’s voice filled the mansion, curses spilling out into the halls freely. 

Concern surged through you at the sight of her as you moved to the entrance to the bathroom. Blood ran down her left hand and wrist, rubbing off onto the sink as she dug through the bathroom to find something to use as a bandage. 

Valeria startled when you stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. She paused, looking down at her own injured hand with an expression akin to embarrassment. 

“What happened?” you asked, and attempted to grab her arm but she pulled away. “The man you were talking to, did he do this?”

“No,” she answered dryly. She moved her gaze back to the medicine cabinet.

You noticed her knife at the edge of the sink and took it. Blood tinged the blade, and you began to understand – Valeria was masterful with knives, but she was also prone to recklessness, and in the basement interrogating a soldier of the enemy was the perfect situation for accidental wounds. 

Valeria snatched the knife from your grasp. She put it back on the edge of the sink, giving you a sharp look. “You shouldn’t be playing with knives.” 

“Apparently, neither should you,” you said, and nodded to her hand. “Let me see it.” 

She hesitated. You knew she was embarrassed of herself for the accidental cut, and you waited patiently as she took a moment of apprehension before slowly extending her arm to you. 

You found the cut at the palm of her hand. It wasn’t deep, but it stretched the entire distance of her palm, and the blood that covered her made it look gruesome. Some of it rubbed off onto your hands as you examined the injury, painting both of you in matching crimson. 

“We need to clean it,” you said as you continued to assess the cut. “Let me help you.” 

“I don’t need any help,” she replied haughtily. “It looks worse than it is.” 

“Maybe, but you’re going to get blood everywhere. And we both know you’ll fuck it up if you try bandaging it yourself.” 

The hint of a smile crossed over her lips at that. She knew you were right, and that if she hadn’t been able to find bandaging for it she might not have fucked with it at all – so with a sigh Valeria relented, giving you a short nod. 

Gently you began to clean the cut. Though you knew it stung as you cleansed it under warm water, you could see her begin to relax. She needed this — to be cared for as exhaustion and stress and every weight she carried began to overtake her. You were content to be her release. In any way she needed you would care for her, in every way she refused to care for herself. 

As you dried the cut, you were reassured by how minor it proved it be. Valeria had been right — it wasn’t nearly as bad as it looked. Yet still you cared for her, and suppressed a smile at the slight crankiness in her expression as you glanced at her before turning to the medicine cabinet. 

“Bandages aren’t in there,” Valeria said with a huff. “I already looked. I think someone stole them.” 

You found bandaging next to the gauze, and took both of them out of the cabinet. Valeria watched with surprise, brows furrowing as if you’d done a magic trick she was trying to find the secret to. 

She was patient as you bandaged and wrapped her hand. What remained of her stress melted away and she watched you contentedly. It felt natural to be tending to her, your hands cradling hers, protection she didn’t need that you would always offer anyway. It felt more natural than breathing. You would spend an eternity watching over her, caring for her every need if it would present to her any breath of joy that you were able to give. 

She watched you with admiration as you wrapped her hand. You were too engulfed in it to notice, but love danced in her eyes as she let herself be vulnerable to your ministrations. It was no small feat to her that she allowed herself to put such trust in you. 

“Now, don’t fuck with it,” you warned when you were finished and gestured to the bandaging. 

She smiled mischievously. “You know I would never.” 

Incredulously, you shook your head. You knew her hand would be unwrapped by the time you went to bed. But you weren’t bothered, because it had made both of you happy that you’d taken care of her. 

Valeria pulled you into her arms, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. Her features illustrated contentment as she stood with you, her arms wrapped around you. Even as she pulled away to examine her hand again one of her arms was still looped around your waist. 

“Thank you for this,” she said quietly. Her gaze was still fixed on her hand. “You didn’t have to.” 

“I did,” you insisted with a small smile. “Like I said, otherwise you would have gotten blood all over our bathroom. You’ve already decimated the sink.” 

She muttered something under her breath about how the sink was fine and you were just being dramatic. You pretended not to hear it, amused by her embarrassment. 

As the two of you began to clean up the bathroom, you were already devising ways to tease her about the knife accident – the jokes you would make while she cut the ingredients for lunch would be unparalleled. 

[sha-brytols]

I remember Weekes saying something that Solas was never under any spell/geas to follow Mythal so everything he did was of his own free will and even if she told him not to tear down the veil centuries ago he would’ve gone ahead with it anyway so I don’t honestly believe at all that everything solas did in Veilguard was because of Mythal as it’s straight from the horse’s mouth but it doesn’t change the fact that that’s exactly what it looks like so regardless there it is

as for Solavellan… there were implications already that there was something between Solas/Mythal that hinted towards a romantic relationship. In Trespasser, in my opinion at least, if you drank from the well, you would know the secret password to one of Solas’s hideouts and the Inky comments about something between Solas/Mythal but to be fair it’s an ambiguous comment

also Inky can tease Morrigan and Solas at the temple of Mythal saying that they look like they are going to kiss when they argue which of course knowing what we know now it’s more on the nose than ever

i'm pretty sure i saw that bsky(?) post you're referring to and like. i'm trying super hard not be rude about it but that was incredibly frustrating LOL. no one is under the impression mythal is literally mind controlling solas or that she was threatening him or literally whatever. the issue was that the entire relationship is built upon a dynamic where mythal makes the decisions and solas is the reluctant, unhappy victim who never wanted to do any of the bad things they did. "everything solas did was of his own free will" is a. VERY generous interpretation when it is shown repeatedly that he was unhappy and uncomfortable and begged mythal to reconsider her decisions repeatedly. there is also the fact that mythal summoned and made him flesh herself, and we Know what spirits are like when they're newly corporeal (baby deer justice) and as a result solas was like. hopelessly devoted to her. like yes in the most literal sense of the word he was "willing," but come ooonnn. we're humans. we're smarter than this. he was so thoroughly wrapped around her finger that he did whatever she said and that was absolutely intentional in the writing.

this isn't the first time the writers pulled that weird, willful obliviousness in their response to criticism. they did the same thing with the executors. "you guys misunderstood the Secret Ending; the executors weren't literally mind controlling all the antagonists in the games they were just subtly influencing their behavior!" like okay so nobody was under the impression that the executors were doing anything as blunt as that, it's not about the Literal mind control it's about the way in which their influence in the games, no matter the extent, retroactively stripped everyone of any autonomy they had as antagonists. it's the exact same blame shifting that anyone with critical thinking skills recognizes as "oh. so these characters were never fully in control of their actions. it was the italian shadow government. ok." like it's very frustrating and tbh an insult to everyone's intelligence

and plus even if you disregard all of this, word of god means very little if the text itself isn't supporting it. like david gaider saying "the tranquil can leave the circle at any time!" like we all know that's complete nonsense and not at all how the games play out. if the writers somehow failed that spectacularly at accurately communicating information to the audience, that's a them issue and they're not off the hook for it

also yeah i know mythal and solas was always implied. the liddol hug after the end credits was 😳. but that's not really what i'm getting at. they literally only mentioned the relationship in order for it to come up that mythal was being romantic with him, and then immediately to say that it actually wasn't like that. the game has this weird refusal to commit to it despite going out of their way to bring it up and then to immediately walk back on it. like idk maybe it isn't very noticeable if you arent super invested in writing (google how do i reword this sentence in a way that isn't patronizing im not trying to be i swear this is slash gen) but as a writer, Everything you write is deliberate. everything in the script has a purpose. and this is especially true in the context of a cutscene that was meant to be an exposition dump.

like again. "solas and mythal were fucking? haha ❤️ no. maybe?" ok. net zero information gained. why. what purpose did this exchange have in the story? if it is clearly romantic, why did they try to tell you it wasn't romantic? and if it wasn't romantic or intentionally ambiguous, then what in the sam hill was the point of that exchange at all. there was no reason to include that part in the conversation. solas and mythal were Already established to be super super super super close. everyone already knows that.

like. imagine if there was a cutscene where harding was like. "did you know i have a baby. she's in skyhold. i had to leave her behind." and rook was like, "sorry. you what." and then immediately harding is like "looool no i don't lmfao i'm not a mother bro. ok anyways bye." and that was literally the entire interaction. what would you. as the player. take out of that. like. you wouldnt just FORGET she said that right. because why the hell did they even put that in there if there was no purpose to that conversation.

again it's like an attempt to leave it ambiguous so the fans who dont like solythal can ignore it, while still. heavily implying it's there. in such a heavy handed way that the only way to ignore the subtext is by being willfully obtuse. like i would have to think they were REALLY stupid to not see the obvious reaction from fans a million miles away. especially with the knowledge that the writers are heavily involved with fandom

[akutasoda]

please, can I request for angst no comfort (if you’re uncomfortable doing that it’s alright!) with Dan Heng? I think being on tumblr changed me? I crave so much angst now😞

or! If youre not in the mood, may I suggest fluff with Seth (ZZZ) or Heizou (GI) I BARELY see any Seth fics, only two on here, my bbg need more love than this! 🥺

thank you, I love your works!

-anon🧅

nightmares that bleed into reality

synopsis - his nightmares were frequent but now they seemed to hurt more than just him.

includes - dan heng

warnings - gn!reader, slight fluff, angst no comfort, arguments, wc - 575

a/n: as mentioned before, i wrote the seth one and posted it separately prior!!

it had been a more peaceful day on the express.

eventually, the tranquil day bled into the serenity of night that befell the train. everyone had resigned to their respective rooms which included you and dan heng. most days you would retire in your actual designated room, but occasionally you would join dan heng in his.

well, it was the data bank and so you only really started joining him when he fulfilled his promise of getting something a little more comfortable as a bed. you weren't asking much, just something more than pillows and blankets strewn across the hard floor, which was mainly solved by a roll mat or something similar.

simple conversations soon turned into hushed whispers as to avoid waking any other passengers - not that it was easy to. it wasn't too long until you both ended up lying side by side, legs entangled, and slowly drifting off into serene slumber. the express finally became cloaked in an entire veil of silence.

one that didn't last long. everyone was asleep. and yet, dan heng started tossing and turning. his mind was being tormented by violent visions. memories that didn't belong to him flashed through his mind, holding so much pain and suffering that it caused unease to settle in his mind.

you both knew it wasn't unusual for dan heng to have nightmares. they were the main reason that he didn't want to start sharing a room with you. dan heng feared that if he woke up, he'd wake you up and burden you with his problems - it was a common fact that dan heng didn't get much sleep because of them, he didn't want it rubbing off on you.

at first, it wasn't an issue. sure he did wake you up occasionally but it didn't take you long before you found says to help him calm down. dan heng actually found his nightmares more manageable with you around. whether that was because you helped him ground himself or simply because of your presence.

but tonight was worse.

he went through his usual tossing and turning before shooting up in a cold sweat. immediately you were woken up and it only took you a few seconds to realise he'd been shaken up by another nightmare.

you called out his name gently, sleep still heavily laced in your voice. unfortunately, dan heng was still caught up in what transpired in his nightmares. he couldn't recognise that you were beside him, that he was in the data bank. no. he thought he was in danger, and that you weren't who you were.

so he snapped. dan heng scrambled to push you away and pointed his spesr at you. you froze in pure terror.

it was only when his sleep muddled brain started clearing that he recognised you. the pure fear in your face that made his heart ache. dan heng was ashamed of himself. he shakily dropped his spesr and shakily moved away, what if he hurt you? what if he did something worse?

you couldn't even get a word out before he was asking, begging, you to leave.

taglist - @little-miss-chaoss, @frankiesteinn

[whysosincere]

Much Ado - A Mortal Kombat Fanfiction

For the lady Mortal Kombat fans who would like to read about dangerous, competent men in conflict, and a woman caught in the tempest.

Chapter 4 - Mistaken

Previous --- Next (Pending)

Centuries of spring times had ushered young and old through the flowering paths surrounding Ginkakuji temple.

Raiden again found himself awakened in the wrong place. Not in the inner sanctums of the Sky Temple worship hall, but enjoying a bright spring afternoon far from the seclusion of his Earthly home. He was walking among a modest throng of mortals, all similarly enjoying the flurry of life that the warmer season brought about. The tranquility he had felt disappeared with the onset of that all too familiar irritation. It was as if someone were taunting him, playing tricks of the mind in humiliating ritual to pull him from matters of import to utter frivolities, and he was certain that he knew precisely who that someone must be.

It was that moment Raiden felt a familiar presence, and as a fan folds, each incident of his strange wanderings came into clear relief, until the whole of his encounters now stacked themselves unto his consciousness: From the first appearance on the lonely mountain temple, to today's garden stroll, this same person had been present every time…

As storm clouds began to gather, the bustle of the crowd slowed, and most took their leave before the Heavens opened with the torrential downpour that now threatened. The few remaining pilgrims and tourists opened their umbrellas or raised their hoods, happy to welcome the sky's blessing, until a massive thunderbolt struck nearby, shattering a pine tree that had been witness to the passing of hundreds of seasons.

"ENOUGH!!"

The walking path was quickly cleared as the scant remaining visitors hurried to proper shelter, commiserating among themselves as they passed the now burning tree and could see its hollowed trunk with glowing embers, others commenting on the ornery beggar in ragged robes now making a spectacle of himself.

Raiden seethed, much like the tree that had been felled by his strike, smoldering with internal fire, and set his sights on the one person that had not vacated. The woman now stood opposite him, her attention pulled from the thrice-in-a-lifetime experience of a close-proximity lightning strike to the white robed stranger.

"Why do you persist in these games, sorcerer? Why summon me here?"

The woman turned and looked for whom he must've been addressing, before looking back to the accuser with puzzled expression. "I beg your pardon?"

Raiden bristled at the feigned ignorance and kept his gaze low, the fury now glowing in his eyes obscured by his cover. "Your deceptions grow more and more tiresome, Shang Tsung!"

The woman mouthed the foreign name silently, eyes squinting with discernment as she decided whether to entertain this old beggar's delusion or turn from the strange confrontation and take her leave. She recognized the unspoken feeling of malice, and knew well that confrontation with an angry, blinded soul could turn physical at the slightest provocation. After careful consideration, she turned and walked away not with a word, but with a small smile, wishing the mad man well in thought.

The silence only served to stoke Raiden's ire further as his body thrummed with light, and he appeared now immediately before the disguised Shang Tsung, certain of his accusation and feeling the nostalgia of facing down the soul-stealer in direct kombat lifetimes ago. His presence now undeniable, he bore down on the sorcerer with terrible rage, barely contained.

"Your deceit will no longer avail you! Too long have I entertained your summons - no longer! Now reveal yourself or thunder take you!"

As this raggedly garbed beggar suddenly materialized before her in a flash of light, his eyes, now un-obscured by his hat, glowing white hot and crackling with electricity, she fell backwards in disbelief.

Stunned at what she had just witnessed, the woman hadn't the presence of mind to heed that which the thunder god had threatened, only staring agape at what she could only assume to be an incredibly immersive hallucination. She blinked hard, expecting to awaken from the dream, but only saw the man before her raise an arm to the sky and point the other directly at her.

Still thinking the "woman's" spectacle to be Tsung's shameful mendacity, Raiden narrowed his eyes and readied a ferocious volley to teach the duplicitous snake a lesson he would not soon forget.

She felt the hairs on the back of her arms raise, and braced as the realization of her current predicament coalesced with the slow of time, as often happened with the finality of mortal existence.

The thunder striking on the rainy mountain side, the tearful sea-side meditations of her homeland, the joyful pub-sings that had broken out during terrible passing thunderstorms, her brief run-in with the kindly monks of the well hidden Wu Shi academy; this same presence now before her had been that feeling at every encounter. Death appeared differently to everyone, she assumed, and had apparently tired of flirting from unseen vantage.

It seemed that it was now her time.

As the smell of ozone and loud crash of thunder filled her senses, she slowly eased her eyes open to see not the blinding flash expected, but a man in dark clothes now bearing the brunt of what was clearly meant for her.

Raiden ceased his channeled anger and took a step back, for now it was his turn to feel the unexpected shock of what stood before him. Shang Tsung grunted as he dropped to one knee, smoke billowing off of his back as the last vestiges of lightning sparked from him and grounded out. Behind him balked the woman Raiden had assumed to be Tsung's own clever disguise, and as she now called out to this stranger, begging his response and affirmation of vitality, a familiar coldness gripped the thunder god at the base of his heart.

"Impossible…!"

"Are you surprised, Raijin?" Shang Tsung coughed through the subsiding pain, reveling in the God's growing sense of ignominy. Shang Tsung then put on his best thaumaturg flair and declared "You'll find no mortals to torment here, foul spirit. Begone!"

So it wasn't death, but the old Japanese deity of thunder and lightning, the woman hemmed internally.

"You dare to-" Raiden raged, electricity enveloping his forearms as he prepared a second volley, only to feel that terrible sense of regret hobble him as the woman he nearly annihilated now stepped forth with fierce defiance, placing herself between the two rivals.

"You heard the man, Raijin. Either finish what you started, or go destroy trees elsewhere."

"You misunderstand, mortal, I have no qualm with-"

"No qualm?" She laughed, cutting short his hesitant excuse with a broad gesture to the surroundings. As if on queue, the burning pine tree's internal structure lost the last of its integrity, and fell just behind the woman and Shang Tsung with a resounding crash.

"The definition of "qualm" must not translate properly here," she asserted with measured amusement while maintaining fierce eye contact, ready for his acquiescence, or her end - To Raiden's astonishment, it didn't seem she would mind either way. The woman then switched languages to one he had known quite well thanks to his adopted name, repeating her ultimatum that the thunder deity either follow through with his murderous intent, or trouble them no longer.

The palpable force of her untrammeled spirit sent a thrill unlike any Raiden had ever felt across his mortal flesh, and he found himself no longer glancing hatefully past the woman to catch Shang Tsung's triumphant smirk, but looking into her eyes in earnest, and feeling that which had become a tether through the aether which pulled him time and again from his meditations.

Just as the realization that this mortal's soul had indeed been a beacon to him, she turned from Raiden with purposeful stride, and tended the man who had saved her life.

As Raiden watched her now lavish attentions on his greatest rival, paying him no more mind than one would a passing breeze, he found himself dumbstruck, unable to act nor speak through his mounting, impotent rage. Shang Tsung was similarly ignoring Raiden as he put on his best performance for this perfect stranger. When she embraced him in heartfelt thanks for his selfless act, Shang Tsung took the opportunity to give Raiden the same knowing smile that he had suffered from the storm warrior following his defeat against Liu Kang.

Raiden disappeared with a final crash of thunder, his angry shout echoing through the temple grounds, and as Shang Tsung played his act to the hilt, Raiden continued his observations from afar.

"Never have I seen such a spectacle! You put my pranks to shame!"

Raiden could only seethe as the winds danced about him before coalescing into the physical body he himself had gifted them aeons ago.

"You know, brother… I've had my share of mortal romances, but I never thought YOU the type to fall in-"

"We are NOT siblings!" Raiden finally broke, tearing his gaze from the now strolling couple to cow the impertinent gale. "Do not forget who bestowed that form unto you, Fujin!"

Fujin held his hands up in a cloying fashion, still smiling, but remaining silent until Raiden's rage subsided. He then chuckled, "And a fine form it is! I have had quite the time with it. Kombat is one thing, but it seems you are just now discovering flesh and blood's true purpose."

This barb brought a pang of agony to Raiden's heart as he felt the intimations of what Fujin alleged, but instead of turning his ire into violent retribution against the messenger, he looked hatefully to the thief who now had whetted appetite for the subtler pleasures of the mortal soul. Lightning flashed, and the skies opened.

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Wildest dreams, pt. 28

Summary: Paul's gone. While the search for him is ongoing, Y/N is back home, awaiting his return.

Warnings: angst, fluff, sexual innuendos, swearing, talking about death, mental health issues and suicide

Wildest Dreams Masterlist

————————————

Tucking her legs under her, Y/N stares out the window. It’s been unusually cold lately, the skies turning darker with each passing day. The clouds are getting lower, spreading among the trees surrounding her home. Whenever autumn comes knocking, Y/N welcomes the rainy days and moody weather with both arms. She didn’t detest the cold as she once did, because Paul would always hold her a little bit closer. He’d often kiss her until they both struggled to keep their hands to each other and she had to beg for mercy before they were both late for work. It’s not like he’d kiss her any less in the summer, it’s just that he’s aware his warmth in already warm days is harder for Y/N’s body to handle. It’s why he’d give her space from time to time. Y/N hated that. That’s why she’d turn down the AC to freezing cold temperatures all the time just so she could enjoy Paul’s cuddles more.

She misses his cuddles now.

It’s been five days since Paul went out of the Cullen’s house and shifted into a wolf. When he’d lose his temper, Paul would be back by nightfall and Y/N never needed to worry. This felt different. Jacob didn’t tell her much at first, trying to sugarcoat what they’d discovered, but she wasn’t letting up. She could never let up when Paul was involved.

“You need to hear it from him, not me,” Jacob sighs.

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Y/N frowns deeply. “I don’t know what’s happening, but I know I feel that his heart is shattered and I -”, she pauses as a sob threatens to escape her. “I never feel his emotions unless they’re at an extreme and his pain is suffocating me right now.”

“It’s a deeply personal thing I can’t imagine Paul would want you to talk to us about.”

Chuckling dryly, she points a finger at Jacob’s chest. “You have no idea what he or I would want. You weren’t here when we were building this relationship from the ground up! You weren’t here as we grew up and you sure as hell weren’t here when we learned each other’s hearts by heart! So don’t tell me what he would or wouldn’t want, because I know what he wants, and that is me! And if he is in this state because he believes he’s done something that will take me away from him, I need to know what the fuck it is so I can convince him it isn’t his fault and that–,“ belting over she lets a shuddered breath pass her lips. Clutching her chest, Y/N’s knees hit the ground with a loud sob echoing throughout the room. Jacob’s quick to wrap his arms around her, looking at Edward in distress.

“She’s overwhelmed”, Edward explains before glancing at Jasper, who seems devastated by the constant waves of pure anguish coming off of Y/N.

In the blink of an eye, Jasper is beside Y/N, his hand running up and down her back as she gasps for breath. All the pain and confusion coursing through her blood is nearly enough to make anyone insane. Even Jasper is barely holding it together as he takes some of her pain, replacing the tsunami of negative emotions with a sense of tranquility.

It doesn’t take long for Y/N’s breathing to return to normal, but her tears don’t dry. Jasper can manipulate her emotions, but he can’t trick her body into forgetting everything.

“Just tell me,” she pleads. “I need to know how to bring him back home.”

“He’s found out you’d possess a rare ability if you were to join our family,” Carlisle answers, and her eyes find him immediately. “One that the Volturi would never allow to exist. That means they’d kill you if you were to change.”

Wiping her tears with the back of her hand, she furrows her eyebrows. “Then I won’t shift and it won’t be a problem.”

“Aro will know,” Alice chimes in. “He can read every thought anyone’s ever had just by touch. He’d find out about you. Even as a human, you’d be a threat. The potential you carry is enough for him to act.”

Letting out a heavy breath, Y/N shakes her head. “How do you even know I might have this power?”

“We asked a member of our extended family to visit,” Alice replies. “We didn’t want to take risks when it came to you. A Quileute imprint.”

“And if you didn’t? If he never told you what potential I carry? If we never even mentioned the possibility of me being part of your family?”

“You’d have never gone through what Paul saw the day he imprinted on you.”

“A self-actualizing prophesy,” Y/N nods. “Is it really as bad as it seems?” Y/N asks Alice. “Paul has always seemed traumatized by it, but he’s my imprint. Is it really a horrid way to die?”

For the first time, Y/N noticed emotions in the Cullens. The Cullens' stony faces are difficult to read by humans, but Y/N can no longer ignore the emotions she notices in them. It’s on all their faces–compassion and pity most of all.

“Okay then”, Y/N forces a small smile as she uses Jacob’s shoulders to help herself stand. Jasper doesn’t hesitate, holding her up as she stumbles during her attempt.

“We need to find my fiancé,” Y/N purses her lips. “Jacob,” she sighs. “Please find him and bring him back to me.”

“I will do my best,” he promises. “But it’s not easy when we get into this headspace. It once took me an entire summer to return to my human form.”

Nodding, she swallows thickly. “Tell him I need him. Tell him I love him and I don’t care about anything other than spending the rest of my life with him. I want to get married and I want us to live every single day to the fullest.”

“I’ll gather the rest of the pack still willing to shift,” Jacob pecks her forehead. “We can cover more ground and drag him back if necessary.”

As Jacob walks toward the door, he’s stopped as her fingers coil around his pinky finger–the only part of him she could reach as he all but ran to fulfill his promise.

“Don’t let him see me breaking down. He can’t ever know.”

Ever since, Y/N waited for her soulmate to return to her. Embry, Quill, and Seth joined Jacob in their search the very first night. Sam and his eldest son waited for Leah and her husband, Owen, to come from Port Angeles before joining the very next day.

Emily would visit with her youngest every morning. Y/N’d have her dad over for lunch, but it didn’t help distract her as much. The greatest thing Sam has ever done for her was give her and Paul his blessing to clue her father in. She didn’t tell him she was marked for certain death. It would kill him to know, but he knows enough to be aware her life is in danger. She told him Paul’s off with the pack trying to hunt down a rogue cold one, protecting the tribe. Kim and Jared would come over every other night for dinner. Y/N imagines it’s because they feel guilty about Jared’s lack of involvement in the search for Paul. He’s not shifted in so long, the human part of him is much stronger than the wolf. Y/N supposes they didn’t want to halt his aging now when they finally seem to look the same age. She can’t take it to heart. Perhaps she’d hate if Paul shifted after a decade too.

Claire and her wife visited on the second day. She’s never been too close to Claire as she and Andrea live far, about a five-hour drive in one direction. They mostly see each other for holidays, but Y/N appreciated her visiting very much. Catching up with them put her mind at ease for a few hours, long enough to maintain some semblance of sanity.

Renesmee showed up with Bella for a few hours on the third day, bringing loads of chocolates Edward knew Y/N liked. Apparently, he’s joined the search earlier that day with Emmett and Rosalie.

The only ones who never left her home were Daisy and Jasper. It would likely drive Embry crazy if he knew his imprint had been sitting beside a vampire this entire time, especially when that vampire was Jasper. He’s apparently less stable with his diet compared to others in his family, but Y/N likes it when he’s close by. If it weren’t for him micromanaging her emotions whenever they threatened to kill her, Y/N would have lost herself. Alice came and went, unable to handle the smell of wolves for too long. The smell of several wolves mixed together is much worse than Jacob's scent, she said.

“He’s going to come back”, Daisy hands her a cup of warm tea. It’s nothing compared to holding Paul’s hand, but if she closes her eyes for a few minutes, she can pretend he’s there, safe with her.

Daisy sits with her, feeling her loss. Embry’s never been away this long before. She can’t imagine how hard it must be for Y/N when she can’t even be sure Paul is alright when she can feel he’s in pain. At least Embry isn’t in danger and he isn’t heartbroken to the point of being stuck in his wolf form. He’ll definitely come back home. Paul might not. She doesn’t say that openly, but she carries that worry. Meeting Y/N was scary as hell, especially with how highly Embry used to talk about her. She knows they had a mutual crush on each other when they were younger, but it never seemed to work for them. Embry told her he didn’t want to mess up his friendship with Jacob, who was evidently in love with Y/N, but he also didn’t want to risk losing Y/N as a friend. It was easier to admire her from a distance.

It’s not like Daisy is insecure about her relationship with Embry now, but before she knew what imprinting was, it did cross her mind that Y/N might be competition. She only found out about imprints when Embry spilled the beans about Paul imprinting on Y/N when she first came back to town. He wasn’t aware she was close enough to hear him and the way he mocked Paul for it, but she heard it. It wasn’t hard making the connection about their own situation. Smiling, she remembers how stupid his face looked when she called him her imprint in bed that night. He nearly choked on his own saliva before she kissed him harder than ever before. She wishes he was with her to kiss him harder than that. Jared didn’t shift and leave Kim, so why did Embry? Shaking her head, she puts those thoughts away. Y/N is a close friend, possibly her closest friend, and she’s definitely Embry’s favorite person aside from herself. This is a small sacrifice for someone they both care about.

Jasper watches the two girls from the couch. He can sense the quickly shifting emotions in Daisy every day, but none of them are malicious. It’s evident she simply misses her husband. Y/N is a hurricane compared to Daisy. She’s impossible to predict and the devastation her emotions can cause is incredibly difficult to contain. He’s never truly delved much into imprint connections, perhaps because Jacob and Renesmee had a simple relationship. Renesmee didn’t pay him much attention until she ended things with her high school boyfriend. After graduation, that’s when she decided she wanted him…selfishly so. She never quite unlatched from him. Renesmee was more or less obsessed with him, jealous of Y/N’s friendship with him, but she was never in any pain regarding Jacob. As for the wolf side of the relationship, Jacob just wanted to protect her and make her happy. He didn’t necessarily love her the way Renesmee loved him, but he wouldn’t ever break her heart, even though his own wasn’t whole. Jasper always knew Jacob loved someone else and despite the imprinting tying him to his niece, Jacob never forgot the one he wanted truly. Seeing Jacob and Y/N in the same room revealed everything to him — he wanted what he could never have. And now he’s off, making sure Y/N can have some form of a happy ending as if she won’t die soon.

Never before did Jasper care much about humans, knowing they’re around only for a brief part of his immortal life. Very few did he care to befriend and, for some reason, Y/N felt like a person he wanted to be around. She didn’t make him thirsty, it’s her heart that speaks to him. So many people walk around hiding their true feelings, but she feels everything so clearly and she refuses to pretend otherwise. It’s rare to find someone like that. He has observed her mainly depressed in the time he's known her, but he wonders about the potential of being around her when she's truly happy.? He could get drunk on candid joyfulness Y/N is capable of feeling. Perhaps he’s going to be invited to the wedding when Paul returns. She’ll certainly be cheerful on that day and he has to know the other side of this despair. He can't believe that he cannot replace this pit of aching with ecstasy and serenity.

Alice finds him unreasonable for staying with Y/N inside the house she shares with Paul, but he can’t bring himself to leave yet. Not before she’s reunited with her fiancé. Leaving now is like playing with destiny. She deserves the relief he’s cautiously giving her, making sure she can feel her emotions without allowing them to cross the borders of what she can safely handle. Y/N needs him, even if others do not agree. Until Paul walks over the threshold of this house, Jasper will not leave. Y/N doesn’t demand it either. He can feel she’s grateful for his presence, for taking the edge off the very sharp knife her emotions tend to become.

So he stays, watching over the girls as the lighting tears apart the sky.

“What would happen if I were to join your family and Aro was,” Y/N pauses as she turns to look at Jasper, who seemed rather surprised she was talking about it. “Well, if he was eliminated, would it really be such a problem for me? For your family?”

Staring at Jasper, Y/N watches as his lips spread in a thin line and then into a genuine smile. She’s definitely gone mad. “You’d want to take on the Volturi?”

“I want to take on Aro,” she corrects. “If he was alone, he’d be easier to eliminate.”

“To kill, you mean,” Jasper states.

Shaking her head, she places the empty teacup down. “I understand the chances of it are minimal, but say I accept to be one of you and I get this magical power of making vampires human… Can’t I make him human?”

“Would he, like, just become a vampire again?” Daisy asks.

Jasper rubs his chin. The more time he spends around her, Y/N swears he does these little gestures for her benefit, something to take away from the ungodly beauty he possesses, to make him seem more human.

It's impossible to turn them into vampires after they have been cured. However, the rest of them would know. The entire army would be ready to dismember us to get to you.”

“Not if he disappears,” Y/N tries. “We could hold him hostage until he dies a human death.”

“That’s dark”, Daisy notes.

“It’s nothing compared to what he’s been doing for much longer than you’ve been alive,” Jasper argues. “He deserves far worse.”

“Could it work?” Y/N asks as Jasper’s phone lights up. “Alice?” The hope in her voice is so easily detectable that it makes Jasper almost frown when he sees it’s a message from Edward.

We found Paul.

“No. Edward says they found Paul.”

“Are they coming home?” Y/N jumps, running toward Jasper. “Call him, call him!”

Smiling as her hope brings alive the butterflies in his stomach, Jasper dials his brother immediately.

“Kind of hard to talk now”, Edward grunts as a loud growl sounds.

“I’m with Y/N. You’re on speaker.”

“Where is he”, Y/N grabs Jasper’s wrist, bringing her lips closer to the phone. “Is he okay?”

“Canada”, Edward sighs as the growling grows louder.

“Is that him?!” she exclaims. “Paul Lahote, you stop that right now!”

On command, the growls turn into whimpers and she can’t help the way her chin trembles with the pained sound leaving her fiancé.

“Come home,” she says softly. “I know you believe you put me in this situation, but that’s not true.” Sniffling, she pauses as if to wonder if saying it in front of everyone is unwise. It doesn’t take long for her to decide, choosing to prioritize Paul over her vulnerability. “If you and I never fell in love, I’d have been dead a long time ago. Paul, I came back home for a few months to tie up loose ends.”

Glancing at Daisy who stood by her, Y/N swallows thickly. “I was struggling with anxiety and depression. And I didn’t feel like I had anyone in this world other than my dad. I just…I was in therapy, but it didn’t really feel like it was working. The meds never really helped either. I was just so…so lonely.”

“Y/N”, Daisy rests a hand on her shoulder as a show of support.

“I was planning on taking my life and then you showed up in that forest with your stupid smile and gorgeous eyes and suddenly I had one more mystery to solve.” Smiling meekly, Y/N sighs. “Before long, I was falling in love with you and my friends returned to me and in that time, I started falling in love with life again. You saved my life, Paul Lahote, and I hate how cheesy that sounds, but you did. And whatever time I got now is still a lot longer than it would have been if we never met.”

Biting her lower lip, she closes her eyes. “You made me happier than I believed was possible. I love you and I want to marry you. I want to marry you and become your wife as we planned. Come back to me so we can enjoy this time we have left.”

“I will.”

She recognizes Paul’s voice immediately.

“I’ll be home soon. We’ll do whatever you want.” His voice is shaky, imbued with heavy emotions he’s attempting to keep under control.

Smiling, she nods. “A beach wedding would have been great, but the weather might not agree.”

“I’ll make sure it agrees,” Paul sniffles.

“Where we had our first date?”

“Sounds perfect!”

Neither spoke for a few moments. Each breath seems to hang in the air, heavy with unspoken thoughts. It’s the kind of silence that carries weight, a palpable tension that both parties are acutely aware of but hesitate to break. Y/N inhales sharply as Paul breaks the silence.

“I love you too.”

“I know”, she replies quietly.

“With all my heart.”

“I believe you.”

“I’ll see you soon,” Paul promises.

Nodding, she holds her breath as tears rush to her eyes. She can’t let Paul hear her crying. He’s carrying far too much guilt already and her tears shouldn’t be part of the load. Swallowing the growing lump at the back of her throat, she replies sweetly, her tone laced with all the love she wants to give him.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

__________________

Tags:  @b-tchymoon​ @squiddaloo​ @abbiesxox​ @kellyashcroft​  @the-chaotic-cow​​ @xxxjaexxx​​ @captainrogers-19​​ @bexloxl​​ @llovergirlll​​ @adaydreamaway08​​ @sunsetevergreen​​ @volturiwolf​​ @twihard08​​ @galacticstxrdust​​ @sorrow-and-bliss​​ @ireadthensuetheauthors​​ @missxmarvelous​​ @locokoca​​ @unstablekay​​ @makhaia​​ @venusdelaroix​​ @avadakadabra93​​ @tearsforhan​​ @a-marie-a​​ @lendeluxe​​ @seagulls-corner​​ @jdbxws​​ @konigslilslut​​ @rottenstyx​​ @itsmytimetoodream​​ @dreamerwasfound​​ @convolutings​​  @thingfromlove​​ @jennyamanda8​​ @havecourage-darling​​ @luvr-exe​​ @alittlejudgemental​​ @turningtoclown​​ @emptydoorsandpaintedwindows​​ @marvelmenarebeautiful​​ @bringmethe-world​​ @alitaar​​ @sugasthreedollarkookie​​ @chloe-skywalker​​ @heyheyheyggg​​ @feral-ratatattat-king​​ @queereddie​​ @fandomrulesall-blog​​ @queenotaku27​​ @dcgoddess​​ @lilac-crowns-blog​​ @small-town-wayward-daughter​​ @yourqueentp​​ @boreddemigodd​​ @chaosgoblinreblogsthings​​ @felinegrate​​ @lunajay33​​ @gtfoana​​ @hpboysslut2707​​ @tpwk-harry-styles​​ @amberpanda99​​ @let-love-bleeds-red​​ @mo-s-blog​​​ @nj01​​ @myheadsinanotherworld​​ @problematicpastry​​ @witchybabel

A/N: No clue why Tumblr is being a bitch today, I don't even know if the tags are working because it doesn't let me do my usual thing, so if you're on the tag list, please let me know if you got a notification or not. On a side note, I've had the worst stomach bug since Friday, so forgive me for the grammar, I beg for leniency. As usual, anyone wanting to be tagged can comment on the post, just make sure your blog visibility settings are on and that your blog hasn’t been flagged (blurry pfp is usually your clue that you have been flagged) as those are most common reasons why tumblr won’t let you be tagged. Also keep in mind changing your @ might mean you lose your tag since Tumblr acts like your blog no longer exists due to the change.

Part 29

[carissime]

Nanami x fem!reader

cw: blowjobs, deep throating, degradation, dry humping/grinding on a shoe (bc I’m a whore and I’d do anything for this man), mentions of getting caught

a/n: I just woke up and was compelled to write this. Watched Thursday’s episode and haven’t stopped thinking about the things I would let this man do to me. Nanami please just give me one (1) chance.

Okay but what about Nanami who’s sitting at his desk trying to finish up some paperwork. Nanami who can’t stand the needy looks you’re giving him, who has already told you to behave yourself because he needs to finish this report tonight and he doesn’t want to stay here a second longer than he has to.

Nanami who finally gives in, pushing his chair back from his desk slightly, and without him even saying anything you can tell by his gaze that he’s giving you permission.

You bolt up from the couch, rounding his desk so quickly it’s a shock you don’t slam your hip into the corner of it.

(It’s not a shock, Nanami covers the sharp edge with his hand, ever the gentleman despite what he’s about to let you do.)

You’re about to drop down to your knees but Nanami wraps his fingers around your throat, and the wide desperate eyes you’re giving him make him want to forget about this report and bend you over his desk so he can fuck you on top of the goddamn papers that have been keeping him here so long. “Behave,” is all he tells you, and the rough sound of his voice shoots warmth straight to your core as you nod eagerly.

He lets go of you and leans back, watching with half-lidded eyes as your fingers make quick work of his belt and slacks, easing the fabric down just enough to release his cock. Both of you inhale sharply, and he clenches his jaw as you wrap your hand around the base and lean forward to take the tip into your mouth, a quiet hum leaving you as you finally get to taste him, get to feel the weight of him on your tongue.

“Good girl,” he drawls, and then moves his chair forward again, forcing you underneath the desk. “Now stay just like that until I’m done.”

And for a while, Nanami thinks you will, thinks you’ve finally decided to listen to him for once and just keep his cock warm in your mouth with no antics. But then he feels you shift around, feels you kneel on either side of one of his legs—and then stop. Surely you’re just getting comfortable. You press your cheek against his thigh, and he can nearly see the way your eyes flutter shut in contentment.

He gets all of eighty-six more seconds of tranquility before you move again. And this time you don’t stop. This time you reach your hands up to clutch at the fabric of his slacks as you grind and grind yourself down onto his shoe, your neediness finally catching up to you. The whimpers you’re letting out are sending vibrations up his cock that make him grit his teeth and push back from his desk abruptly.

You give him these wide puppy-dog eyes that nearly make him fold, because after all he’s supposed to just keep working while his pretty little girlfriend is on her knees in front of him, skirt fluttering out to settle around your knees, looking like the picture of innocence when really you’re just begging to be fucked like a whore in his office?

“You know that’s not how good girls behave.” His voice is so thick and gravelly that it almost makes you not care, almost makes you climb up on his lap to ride him anyway.

But you don’t, because you are a good girl, but there’s only so far your patience can stretch and he’s been in here for hours working on this stupid fucking report and you would make a mental note to complain to Yaga about post-mission procedures if the look Nanami were giving you right now wasn’t just making your head fuzzy with pleasure.

“Kento, please—” you whine, and he holds a hand up.

“I will give you one more chance, otherwise you’re just going to have to wait until we get home. After I finish my report. After I debrief with Yaga.”

You immediately shake your head. That wasn’t part of the agreement! You want to protest, but you can see that his patience is worn thin, so you keep your mouth shut.

“You’re going to be good?”

And you nod, letting out a small “mhm” and scooting closer on your knees when he beckons you with a curl of his fingers.

Nanami gives you a pointed look and you slowly take him back inside your mouth, your body immediately relaxing again. But then Nanami’s hand is on the back of your head, pushing you all the way down until your nose is against his pelvis, pushing past your gag reflex and holding you there even as you choke.

You blink back the tears that are welling up on your lash line, eyebrows scrunched together as you look up at him.

“Grind on me,” he grunts, and it takes all of his willpower not to fuck your throat as the look on your face morphs from confusion to relief and then back to confusion again. “C’mon, you’re so desperate to get yourself off, grind on me while you choke on my cock.”

His words make your eyes roll into the back of your head and you quickly straddle one of his legs again, grinding yourself down onto the top of his shoe and whining at the friction of it through your panties. Your movements quickly become more eager, having to compensate for the layer of fabric that’s blocking out the truly delicious feeling of his shoelaces against your bare cunt.

“Fuck, that’s it,” Nanami groans, his fingers tightening in your hair. “Such a fucking slut, huh? Want me to fuck you in my office where anyone could walk by and hear the filthy little sounds you make, I bet it turns you on so much knowing someone could’ve walked in earlier while you were under my desk sucking on my cock.”

You nod as much as you can with the grip Nanami has on you, looking up at him through lashes that are wet with tears.

“Lift your skirt up, let me see how wet your panties are.” You do ask you’re asked and Nanami groans at the sight of the wet spot darkening the fabric, his hips jerking up and causing him to gasp as your throat tightens around him. “Fucking soaked,” he hisses. “My filthy little whore. Cum for me—you said you were gonna be my good girl, yeah? Be good for me and cum.”

Nanami doesn’t even need to finish his demand before you’re squeezing your eyes shut, gripping your skirt that you’re still so dutifully holding up even tighter as your climax hits you, body shaking with the force of it all.

You fall limp against him, body slumping against his thigh when you come down. And then you go to take a deep breath, moving your head back just slightly until you’re stilled by Nanami’s grip.

“Where do you think you’re going? Stay still while I fuck your throat. You want to be good for me, don’t you?”

Literally haven’t stopped thinking about Nanami since Thursday’s ep. Being a Nanami girl has been so good to me. Reblogs & comments always appreciated 🫶🏼