#HIDING HIM AWAY AS SOMETHING PRECIOUS TO BE PROTECTED AND REVERED

[grimalkinmessor]

NO BECAUSE YES ALL FOR ONE TAKES CARE OF YOICHI BECAUSE HE SEES HIM AS SOMETHING THAT BELONGS TO HIM BUT HE ALSO TAKES CARE OF HIM AS A PRIEST TAKES CARE OF A SHRINE DO YOU UNDERSTAND DO YOU GET IT

[inkykeiji]

⋆₊˚⊹♡ alastor + dressing you in white

character: alastor warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, heavy pet/master dynamic, toxic relationship (condescension), blood + blood eating, slight gore, fem!reader words: 1.8k

alastor exclusively dresses you, his precious little pet, in white—white linen dresses, white silk pjs, white cotton undies—and you’ve finally figured out why.

“Alright, uh,” Charlie’s finger flicks the worn cardboard spinner in her hands, watching as the arrow lands on a splotch of colour. “Right hand, red!”

You’re in the parlour when it happens—a sudden, sharp pain that sears through your ribs as you bend over, a reactive hiss spit from between gritted teeth. 

“Whats’a matter?” Angel teases, panting slightly. “Too short to reach your colour?” 

Throwing a glance over his shoulder, Angel’s long limbs easily twist to obey the most recent order, both of his right hands finding red circles on the crinkled plastic mat.

“No, I just—”

“Holy shit!” his gasp cuts you off, all amusement eradicated from his face, dissolved by concerned shock. “You’re bleeding!” 

“What?” 

Glimpsing down at your body, your eyes are drawn toward the rapidly developing blot of scarlet, steadily seeping through white linen—a gruesome petal, irregular edges spreading, slow but ceaseless, eating away at the fabric.

A gurgle of disquiet sounds from the couch, voices tangling together, dulled to your ears as your gaze finds your Master’s. 

But he doesn’t meet your stare. 

Unblinking crimson eyes are focused on the flowering patch of blood, beginning to mottle as specks bloom around it. His chest rises and falls with even little huffs of air, ebony pupils gnawing at his irises as they devour the sight, his fingers twitching on his knee. Your gaze drifts back to the smeared blemish, the softest whimper dripping from your lips.

It’s beautiful. 

Alastor was right; your blood does look ravishing against the crisp bright fabric—stark but artful, a miniature abstract piece being painted in real time as the substance transudes the linen, created by your body and his, together. 

Now you understand; there is a reason why Alastor always dresses you in white. Especially when the abrasions he leaves have a nasty tendency to split and spill out. 

Entranced, your fingers press around the sensitive flesh, feeling the open wound hollowed by your dress and staining your skin with a glittering crimson, a sharp breath sucked through the gaps of your teeth, flashes of speared agony radiating through the surrounding flesh.

Your sound of pain seems to snap Alastor from his revere, blinking twice as he comes back to himself, smile stretching wider with something sinister, worming between razored teeth.

“All right,” Alastor’s saying as he stands from the couch, bravado ringing strong and clear and firm over the chatter. “I’ll take care of this.” 

“Are you sure? That looks, uh—”

“Why is she bleeding in the first place?” 

“Alastor, maybe we should—”

“Come, pet.” Alastor disregards the chorus of concerned comments without sparing them a glance, holding an arm out to you in invitation.

Then you’re scampering to his side, instant, instinctive, allowing him to curve around you protectively, guiding you away from a collection of worried faces with a palm plastered over the injury. 

“I told you not to play,” Alastor admonishes in a singsong while he guides you through the threshold of his bedroom

Leaning into him, you nestle your cheek against his ribs, catlike, hiding the blurry disappointment nipping at your eyes.

“But I wanted to.” 

“You should’ve known better,” he chides, but his voice is tender, fingers rubbing soothing circles into your shoulder as he ushers you into his bathroom, depositing you on the rim of the clawfoot tub. “Your injuries are not fully healed yet.” 

Your injuries are never fully healed, you want to point out. He is constantly engraving new cuts, scrapes, slashes, bites into you; there is never a moment where your body is not stained with Alastor in some way.

“I thought they’d be okay,” you say instead, forehead scrunched in petulance. 

“Well, you thought wrong.”

“Who knew a game of Twister could be so strenuous,” you mutter to yourself, bottom lip wavering on the edge of a pout. 

He snorts out a titter, mean and scoffing as his fingers pick through the first aid kit. “For such a smart little girl, you can be really stupid sometimes, can’t you?”

“What?”

But he refuses to elaborate, continuing on as if you hadn’t spoken at all. 

“Clearly, Master cannot allow you to make decisions for yourself,” he teases, but his tone holds a twinge of sincerity, a vow of certainty. 

This is the last time you’ll be making a decision on your own for a long time. 

“Arms up.” 

Immediately, you comply, arms held straight over your head, Alastor’s hands curling in the hem of your dress and pulling it from your body in one swift, fluid motion. 

It stings, the linen of the dress ripped harshly from the steadily weeping wound it had been clinging to, a yelp cracking in your throat. 

A halfhearted hush falls from your Master’s lips as he carefully drapes the soiled dress over the rim of the tub, taking a moment to admire the stain. A finger traces around the blotch almost affectionately, a tender sigh exhaled out his nose. Then his palms are finding your legs, pushing them apart and sinking to his knees, wedging himself between your spread thighs. 

“All right, let Master see,” he murmurs, shoulders hunched a little as he becomes eye level with the gash, your spine straightening to present the tear to him. 

Hesitant fingers prod at the surrounding flesh, now smeared with dried blood, inspecting the damage. 

“You ripped open every single stitch,” Alastor chuckles quietly, his fingers tugging at the bordering skin and watching with macabre awe as the wound gapes open beneath the pressure, a thick torrent of blood oozing out. 

A whine that sounds suspiciously close to his title sticks in your throat, half-stifled by your clenched teeth, and he looks up at you, sadistic amusement glimmering in his eyes. 

“Does that hurt, sweetheart?” His fingertips press down on the tender flesh, now slick with blood, and shove together, completely sealing the wound, another cascade of crimson spilling past the seam. 

“Master!” you cry out, fingers clamping over his shoulders to steady yourself, nails scraping against cotton. 

 The force of his touch increases, claws nearly sinking into the torn slash. “Answer my question.”

“Yes!” you choke out, head nodding in quick little motions. “Yes, it hurts.” 

A soft hum vibrates at the back of his throat, sharp teeth hidden behind a wide, close-lipped smile. Leaning forward, he plants his tarnished hands on your thighs for stability, then runs his nose along the top of the cut, inhaling one deep breath, his entire ribcage expanding as his chest swells with it. 

He stops, holds the scent in his lungs for a moment, lets it ferment into something sick and foul, lets it steep in the tissues and infuses them with you, before finally exhaling, the rush of air frigid against the bleeding gash.

“So pretty,” he murmurs, rubbing his mouth into the blood. “So fucking delicious.”

Tongue unfurling from his mouth, he traces, slow and cautious, around the edges of the wound with the tip, turning rusted blood watery and faded, grotesque streaks painted across your flesh. A noise claws at his throat, desperate to get out as he shoves it back down, tongue flattening over the slit and dragging, measured and meticulous, slick muscle soaking up the percolating blood.

“Alastor,” you nearly moan, dainty fingers curling around his antlers, the sudden touch evoking a growl from deep within his chest. 

“Let your Owner clean it,” he spits against the injury, lips brushing it again, voice muffled by your skin. 

And so, you do—because you’re nothing if not an obedient little pet girlfriend for your Owner, back arching as you press your ribs into his mouth, offering yourself up to him.

He laves over the laceration three more times, glazing it in a protective layer of his saliva, glimmering in the light with each of your shallow breaths. 

“Better,” he breathes, the word nothing more than a wisp of air against the wet cut, chills skittering across your flesh. 

“Th-Thank you, Master,” you whisper, fingers tugging on his antlers a little, desperate to get him closer. “I—It felt nice.” 

Crimson eyes flick up, his gaze veiled by heavy lids as he laps at his lips, cleaning them of excess blood, some of it streaked along his chin. 

And, oh, how breathtakingly beautiful he looks coloured in strokes of you. 

Hips twitching a little, your thighs tense around his torso, and he looks down again, eyes honing in on the drenched lace between your legs, panties molding to your cunt and accentuating every dip, every bump, every contour. 

He chuckles at the sight—something dark, something decadent, something demeaning melting on his tongue. 

“Well,” he pants softly to himself, pride tweaking the edges of his smile. “Would you look at that.” 

A finger traces the outline of your cunt—over your hood, along your lips, circling your hole and just barely pressing into it, watching with a morbid fascination the way it flutters against his finger, delicate material dipping, trying to siphon his finger into you.

“You would like that, you nasty little girl.” 

But he’s aroused, too, his cock straining eagerly against his trousers, a direct result of your sweet blood still tinging his tongue, your precious yelps of pain still ringing in his ears. Saliva pools in the dips of your mouth as you stare at it, thighs flexing on either side of him again, another gush of warmth flooding the apex of your legs. 

“Master, you’re—” you begin in a stringy, needy whine, swallowing thickly. “You—You’re…Can we…” 

“Can we what?” 

A knuckle finds your chin, drawing your eyes back to his, a thumb gripping the point, inhibiting you from fleeing his invasive stare. 

“Come now, it’s rude not to finish your sentence.” 

Pricks of embarrassment erupt across your face, eyes teetering on a wince as you force the stubborn words from your tongue, question trembling.

“Can we fuck?” 

Crimson searches your face, pupils pulsing with a vile sort of voracity, consuming his irises bit by bit as he contemplates. His gaze is cutting, slicing into you as it torturously pulls apart your features and examines them one by one. 

And you—you let him, open and willing and vulnerable and raw as you bear your soul to him, as you rip yourself open for him, as your fingers dig through meat and blood and bone to get to your core, offering it to him wholeheartedly. 

“Perhaps,” he finally responds, reaching for his surgical needle and thread. “I’m going to re-stitch this now,” he tells you, voice a touch huskier than before. “If you are well behaved as I tend to the wound—no squirming, no complaining—I might just give you what you want.” 

His stare holds your own, an eyebrow raising, imbued with inquiry. 

Are you ready to play? 

Oh, he isn’t going to make it easy for you, but you’re up for the challenge. 

[buddie-buddie]

Buddie + “Who did this?”

“Who did this?” Eddie’s voice is hard and icy in a way that's almost foreign to Buck. Almost, but not entirely. His eyes drop to where Eddie’s lips are pressed into a line, his jaw set, and memories of derailed trains and risky rescues and Abby flash in his mind. 

Buck doesn’t have time to focus too much on that, though, because Eddie's closing the distance between them and taking Buck's chin in his hands. Everything else fades away until there’s nothing but the familiar warmth of Eddie’s gentle touch and the pleasant ache in Buck’s chest, the same one that blooms behind his ribs each time Eddie’s nearby. 

Eddie touches him like he's something sacred, holds him like he's something precious.

“I–” Buck hesitates. It’s not that he wants to hide anything from Eddie, he just… he doesn’t want to worry him, is all.

It’s bad enough he has a fresh bruise blooming across his jaw, blues and purples swimming beneath swollen skin. Swollen skin that’s split in one spot, held together with a butterfly bandage that Hen insisted he actually needed, despite his protests and attempts at bargaining. Of course Eddie’s going to worry when he sees that.

And see that, he did. About three seconds after Buck walked through the door of Eddie’s house– no, not Eddie’s house. Their house. His lease on the loft had officially ended two weeks ago, but he’d been living at the Diaz house for the better part of the last four months, since the morning he woke up sleepy and cranky, grumbling about having to stop by the loft before their shift to get more clothes and Eddie had kissed the spot behind his ear and murmured, “What if you bring them all over?”

Buck had turned over in Eddie’s arms, suddenly wide awake. “E-Eddie.”

“Bring them all,” Eddie had said, bringing a hand up and tracing Buck’s birthmark with gentle, reverent touches. “And all your shoes, too. And the frying pan Bobby got you for Christmas two years ago that you said you want to be buried with. And the books on your coffee table and that plant you keep killing and honestly? Your mattress. It’s better than this one.”

“Eddie,” Buck had breathed, unable to get anything else out past the lump that had suddenly appeared in his throat. 

“Buck,” Eddie said simply. Buck would never tire of hearing his name on Eddie’s lips. “Stay.”

And Buck did.

This isn’t just Eddie’s house anymore, it’s their house. And a few minutes ago, when Buck got home, Eddie had come to the front door to greet him, just as he always did when he heard Buck’s key in the lock. He rounded the corner with a warm, easy smile, one that instantly fell the second his eyes landed on Buck. He had stepped forward, closing the distance between them and reaching for Buck’s bruised face with a gentle insistence that was still fond, even when laced in desperation. 

Buck didn’t want to worry him any more than he already had. Plus, really, there’s nothing to worry about. Their last call of the shift had been to an overturned vehicle, and the driver was more than twice the legal limit and just as combative as he was plastered. Buck had tried to stop the guy from crawling out his window– Chim and Hen had wanted to get him on a backboard– but it was no use. The guy was out of the car and stumbling towards Buck with a fury in his eyes, accusing him of being the one to call the police. Buck was halfway through denying that claim when a fist flew at his face, pain exploding from his jaw as he reeled back, stumbling to the side as his hand flew to his face.  

There’s a fire burning in Eddie’s eyes, dark and protective. But more than that, there’s a softness there, a gentleness hidden in the way Eddie’s eyebrows lift just slightly, his eyes wide and searching as he waits Buck out.

“Buck,” Eddie says finally, barely above a whisper. It’s a plea more than anything. 

Six years of knowing Eddie and six months of dating him and Buck still folds like a cheap suit when Eddie looks at him like that. “It's nothing. Just a drunk idiot on our last call.”

Eddie makes a dissatisfied sound under his breath, running his fingers over the bruised skin with a touch so light and careful, it sets Buck’s heart on fire. “And this person was dealt with.” It’s not a question so much as it is a statement, one that speaks to his trust in the rest of the 118. His faith in them to have Buck's back, especially when he can't be the one to do it himself.

Buck nods the best he can with his chin still in Eddie’s hands. “Bobby,” he says, and it’s explanation enough. “And then Athena.” 

Eddie hums, and Buck can tell that while the answer satisfies him, it’s not enough to chase away all of the concern that’s needling at him. Buck brings his hands up, curling his fingers around the warm skin of Eddie’s wrists. The steady beat of Eddie’s pulse beneath his fingertips is instantly grounding. And maybe just as much for Eddie, too, if the small sigh that falls from his lips is any indication. 

“Baby,” Buck says softly. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

Eddie’s voice is small when he answers, quiet and resigned in a way that splits Buck open just as much as Eddie’s words do. “I wasn’t there.”

Through no fault of his own. Christopher was running a fever the night before their shift started, and with Pepa out of town and Carla at Morongo again, Eddie had called out to stay home with him. Which he feels guilty about, if the resignation in his voice and the regret in his eyes are anything to go off of.

“You were exactly where you needed to be,” Buck reminds him. 

Eddie lets out a small sigh. “Yeah,” he agrees. “Doesn’t mean I hate it any less, though.”

Buck shrugs. “Never expected you would.” A small smile tugs at his lips, and he ignores the way that even the slight motion sends a fresh wave of pain radiating across his jaw. “Chim says we’re ‘sickeningly codependent.’” 

“Maybe,” Eddie admits, his thumb ghosting over Buck’s bottom lip. His gaze skates from Buck’s eyes to his lips, then back up again. Buck can see the moment Eddie hesitates, can see the flash of trepidation in his eye. 

“You’re not going to hurt me,” Buck assures him. “In fact,” he says, almost conspiratorially. “It could be what heals me.”

Eddie hums, a smile playing on his face. “Better give it a try, then.”

“Guess so.” 

Eddie finally, finally kisses him, and it may not patch Buck’s skin back together or undo the broken blood vessels, but it chases away every last bit of the pain. It ebbs away until there’s nothing but Eddie. Nothing but the feel of Eddie’s fingers in his hair and Eddie’s lips on his, nothing but the way Eddie grins against Buck’s mouth and Buck feels good and right and whole. He feels like an unmoored ship who’s anchor’s just hit the sand, no longer adrift. Steady. Grounded. Safe. 

He feels like he’s home. 

After all, he is. 

prompt game

[galebrainrot2024]

Gale x Tav Enemies to Lovers Part 17

Read on Ao3 Tav's perspective, enjoy!

“I don’t know yet,” Tav whispered, her honesty rolled off her tongue as if it weren’t her own. “I do know we’re smart enough - at least I am -“ her voice rose at her poor attempt to joke, “Gods be damned. You must have heard everyone.” Her voice dropped and she saw his eyes flick to her lips. Saliva collected at the back of her throat and she swallowed. “Do we mean nothing to you?” 

Tav knew she wasn’t asking him if the others were important to him. Their childhood animosity, their prior squabbles and disagreements -  it almost seemed irrelevant now. She saw how his brilliant mind blossomed and endured. 

Gale laughed and to her, it seemed biting, “We cannot rest our certainties on ‘I don’t know.’ The promise of forgiveness, no matter the cost, is worth it. In case it’s not clear enough, let me elaborate for you,” Gale’s tone cut her and she felt her fuse ignite, “I recall we were in numerous religious studies classes in our time, would you say that’s true?” Tav nodded, dumbfounded. “Good, so we’re in agreement - and I assume you remember learning about the Wall of the Faithless? Where those without Gods or those who openly antagonize them end up a brick in a wall of lamentation, brutally tormented for eternity?” Gale scoffed and stared at her, “I would die a thousand deaths before I agree to such a fate willingly.” 

Tav felt like glass that had been dropped. “She’s given you an impossible choice.” 

“I know,” Gale said sharply before exhaling and his voice stilled, “I know. I think it’d be better if we both got some rest. A new day is ahead of us, and there are so precious few of those left.” 

*** 

“You’re up late,” Astarion purred, his hip cocked to the side as he mussed his hair. 

“Out for a late night snack?” 

“Obviously,” he ran his fingers along the sides of his lips and smirked. “Caught a good one tonight.” 

Tav sighed. She wasn’t in the mood for company and she felt guilty turning him away after what he shared with her about Cazador. Most of their other companions let thinly veiled annoyance with his attitude and personality cloud their judgements of him. Tav could hardly blame them - as someone rather prickly herself, she understood the protective measure. She wasn’t sure Astarion had ever had a friend in his life. She patted the ground beside her. Astarion’s nose wrinkled and he pulled over a stump that he struggled to balance on as it was rotten. Giving up, he kicked it into the bushes and decided to stand. Tav suppressed a chuckle that threatened escape. Watching him do this felt silly. 

“I just patched these trousers,” he gestured down at his well-maintained clothes as if reading her mind. “I am not looking to mend another snag just yet.” Astarion’s petty vanity was something Tav found endearing. Although she didn’t ask, she assumed that those were the only clothes he had - or had ever had - since becoming a vampire spawn. “Are you alright Darling?” Astarion laid a hand on her shoulder. “Is something troubling you?” 

Shame bubbled in her gut. Astarion was being increasingly vulnerable with her and she knew if she didn’t nip the flame soon and lacked tact, she would lose both. “Isn’t that true for anyone who is up at this hour?” Tav’s pitiful smile couldn’t hide the maelstrom beneath. 

“Usually.” Astarion mused. “You should get some rest,” he brushed her cheek lightly. “The dark circles are a little too gothic for you.” Tav let out a half hearted grunt and he left her to her thoughts.

Silence draped over her like a blanket and the quiet of the reverent time, the one just between dawn and night encouraged her lids to droop and her body to sway, soon to follow into darkness. The night lulled Tav into a restless sleep. 

*** 

The drippings of a cool, viscous liquid roused her from sleep. “Uh…” she moaned, shaking her head and realizing two heavy paws were on her chest. “Scratch…” the dog wined, licking her face and she allowed her fingers to tangle in his fur. “Alright, I’m up, I’m up.” When Tav sat up her entire vision swam with dark circles and she felt sea-sick from lack of sleep. 

The smell of eggs made her stomach churn and she almost retreated back into her tent before mustering the courage, fueled by the smell of coffee. They ate quickly and packed their belongings - Tav, Karlach, Shadowheart, and Gale would go ahead first to scout out the shadowlands and the rest would follow once they received word.

“What’s that?” Shadowheart asked so Karlach bounded over, assessing the chest. 

“Looks abandoned, not trapped..” Karlach mused, circling it. “I say we open it.” 

“Hm…” Gale stood a few paces behind and held up his hands. “I think I’ll watch from back here, if it’s all the same to you.” 

Karlach then swung her axe hitting the chest with a thunderous roar, and it splintered. “Nothing but landers, torches, and this dusty old book. I was hoping for at least a cool ring or something in a chest like this.” Karlach was ready to move on but Tav gestured for the book. 

“May I?” 

Karlach shrugged and tossed it to her, “If you want to stick your nose in this crusty thing, be my guest.” 

When Tav opened it and her eyes began skimming the words, she jumped when she heard Gale’s voice directly in her ear. “Appears to be a journal of some kind.” 

“For the love of gods!” She clutched her chest and shot him a look over her shoulder. He gave her a crooked smile that made her sea-sickness worse and her mouth unbearably dry. 

“You must be off your game today,” Gale teased as his brow cocked, “It’s not like you to get started so easily.” As his eyes studied her face she felt herself grow hot and returned her gaze to the book. 

“I didn’t sleep well.” Tav murmured as she read. Gale reached over her shoulder to turn the page, his fingers brushing hers. The words were filled with horror, the tale of a person slowly succumbing to the curse and loosing their mind. Tav shuddered, reading aloud: “”A dreadful night. The campfire needed thrice the wood that would normally be needed to keep it burning. Terrible sounds came to my ears from beyond, rest has not restored me. If anything, I feel weaker.” They collectively held their breath. 

“If this book is to be trusted, we better equip ourselves with some of these torches and keep our wits about us.” Gale was serious, and gestured forward. “Whatever lies ahead, I’m certain it will be unlike anything most of us have witnessed.” 

“Speak for yourself,” Shadowheart snorted. 

Tav wasn’t in the mood for bickering so she closed the book and tossed each of them a torch. “We should go - no time to dally.” 

** 

As they crossed the threshold into the cursed place, the immediacy of the sickness that gripped her was severe. The flickering flame from their torches seemed to abate the darkness, but not entierly. 

“There’s power here… but the shadows… they don’t seem to have quite the same effect on me,” Shadowheart mused, gazing around at the contorted blue-green landscape. “Not as badly at least. Do you know what this means? I must be blessed. Shar is protecting me where others are left to face her wrath… she loves me, she must do.” 

Tav shot Karlach a look before she could express more indignation and then said, “What about us?” 

Shadowheart shrugged, “You’re clever. The torches are working well enough, I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Lady Shar wouldn’t bless me like this for no reason.” 

Tav sighed, miffed by Shadowhearts unyielding loyalty to a Goddess who had done nothing but spite her, had inflicted her with pain and unimaginable suffering, all for what? Tav felt in her bones that not even Shadowheart fully believed the dogma. There was still time to press her, to unravel her blind fealty. 

Though, the irony was not lost on her - Tav’s devotion to Mystra, especially prior to Elminster’s visit, was equally fanatical. Now, she felt a complication to her connection to magic - although she could wield it like a master pianist, she felt little admiration for the Goddess she previously held in hallowed glory. 

As they crept through the shadows, Gale marveled at their surroundings, “No day.. no night… it’s as though time itself has abandoned this place.” Gale murmured and it made goosebumps raise on her skin, “Similar to the Astral Plane in some ways, wouldn’t you say Tav?” Gale’s intelligence was a mere glimmer in the kaleidoscope of his charm. His was the one mind she found could match her own, their interactions much like a complicated game of Lanceboard. 

“Hardly,” she scoffed, looking at him with a slight grin. “It’s said the Astral Plane is threaded with light and silver, life-giving, and wondrous in all directions… I’ve never set eyes on it, but I wager it is nothing like this dismal place. These lands are diseased by this threat that lurks and devours in the darkness… ” 

They heard rustling ahead and crouched - Tav held a finger to her lips and gestured for them to stay put while she moved forward. She could taste the thrumming of her heart, a metallic and sickly flavor. It was a group of travelers, their fear palpable. A twig snapped beneath Tav’s feet and she held her breath. 

“Stop! Who’s there?” One of the women called out to her and she tried to tuck herself behind the tree. 

Tav considered, crafting a harmless reply: “I find the best introductions are made around a fire, perhaps with food and drink?” 

“You’re a chatty shadow, I’ll give you that. Come out, into the light, hands high.” Tav obliged, holding up her hands and tilted her head for the others to follow. 

“Jonas, look out! Step to the light!” One of them called, the man lingering oddly in the shadows before nothingness seemed to grip him and drag him into the darkness. 

A trap. 

[ophelian-darling]

Hi! I just saw you are doing Yandere prompts and I wanted to ask if you could do prompt 13 with platonic Yandere part 6 Jotaro maybe he sees the reader as his daughter/is his daughter anyway I hope youu ur have a good day / night

Part Two

this is so sweet thank you for requesting 💕

"Ask me anything and I'll do it for you"

TW: Obsession, mention of Stalking.

Word count: 1.1k.

enjoy ♡

You were his sunshine. 

There wasn't a happy day without hearing your melodic laughter reverberating through the air, or without beholding your warm smile. you were his treasure, his pride and joy, his only purpose for living- God forbid if any soul wanted any harm to fall upon you.

He knew he had to be away from you for your own good. The lingering fear and the mere thought of his precious daughter getting hurt was dire- let alone allowing any turpitude to befall you; However, as much as the thought of others putting their evil hands on you was aching, parting you was far more painful and intolerable. 

It would be selfish to have you around in these dangerous circumstances. Jotaro had so many enemies (more than he remembers or can count) and any sane parent wouldn't risk their dearest child for the sake of relieving themselves, but he couldn't stay away from you. you were his only hope through his long journey and his bright candle amidst the dims of life, he couldn't- wasn't able to imagine himself happy without you by his side. 

He knew he was strangling you with his protection: the way he held your hand in public (your friends were whispering about how overprotective your father was, as his hand wouldn't leave yours most of the time) the way he cages your small form to his chest -as if his arms were a shield from the cruel world- and how he was oh so loving to you, a side that you were the only person who witnessed in him.

You were his dear princess. 

You would go to school, play with children your age and make friends like any other little girl- it was what you've asked and what he couldn't refuse. he couldn't refuse any of your wishes, yet you being putty in someone else's hands was unacceptable. 

You've always wondered why your dear father would frown over your socialization with someone other than him, as you've seen how all the girls in your class would go to each other's sleepovers, share a laugh together or go to the park for a hike; something that he wouldn't like to hear about and simply brush off your complaints. 

"No, you can't go to her birthday party…"

"It's dangerous to go out with them, I'll take you there next time…"

"Be a good girl and listen to papa,Okay?"

And the endless worries would continue as you grew up.

"How was your day?" He asks, ending the long, intense silence. Jotaro had the habit to always ask you about the simplest of things -although he's fully au fait with all of your activities- to check up on you. 

You played with the food in your plate, responding automatically "pretty good, the usual of school and life" 

Your voice was unmistakably listless, a tone he didn't like. as a child, you used to be an avid bundle of joy and chuckles, never missing a chance to jump here and there or make some commotion out of fun. It was exhausting to watch over you, but at least you were happy. 

Alas, old days of felicity. He may not show it, but he's sad. sad that you are no longer your juvenile self.

"It doesn't appear as you say" he regarded you with concern, continuing when you looked up at him "You don't seem to be in a good mood, is something bothering you?" he couldn't help the sudden octave decrease in his words, thinking that something -or worse, someone- dared to needle you while he took his eyes off of you. 

"Nothing at all-" 

"Don't lie to me." he's trying to be the father you deserve: knowing you too well and memorizing your smallest details. he sensed your distress and delight whenever you were speaking or solely silent; you're his top priority and lone, revered daughter, after all. 

"I know that you're hiding something from me. we already made the promise of being honest to each other, didn't we?" He gently reminds. He will not let his worry get the better of him when he tries to be a good listener to you.

He reaches closer to you, as to make you feel safe and boost your trust towards him in such a moment. you were seventeen years old now: a critical age when you had your own feelings and secrets to deal with. 

"So Why won't you tell me? I assure you that I'll help whatever it is" 

It appears that a little encouragement was what you needed. you bowed your head, looking down at your fingers as they entwined themselves on your lap (a gesture you displayed when anxious, alongside an uncharacteristically low and sedate voice).

"Can I ask you something?" you quietly inquired, hiding your face with your palms before clearing "it sounds ridiculous but it'll mean a lot to me" 

Since when did he reject your pleas? mountains were to be moved for you. Was there anything dearer to a father more than his daughter?! He'll definitely go through anything if it means drawing a smile on your lips. 

"Of course, ask me anything and I'll do it for you." 

You cleared your throat, gathered enough courage and started after a short pause "I…there's someone I really like…I wanted to talk to them and I didn't know how"

Jotaro did his best to not emphasize any sign of anger or displeasure- But the information he's grasping from your statement stringed a sensitive nerve within him. 

He should be happy for you, why he's feeling irritated instead?!

"and…I thought you would help me since…" you hesitated, not wanting to mention your mother, obviously. 

"So…are you going to help me?" 

What did you expect from him? what sort of help would he offer to you- Why he would aid someone else in stealing you away from him?! as selfish as it seems, he wouldn't want you to leave him for someone else, someone who'll bask in your Company and Warmth, or perhaps shatter your heart to unfixable glasses in the end. he vowed to protect you from this world's horrors, and he will not break his word no matter what. 

With the remaining calmness he had, he managed to utter "I would, if you I met them first" even if they were good enough for you, they would not be able to touch a single lock of your hair. that if they had time to call themselves a Sweetheart of yours. 

You chirped, getting up from your chair to give him a hug. your father appreciates your feelings of attraction! isn't he the best father ever?

"Thank you so much papa! love you!" and with a kiss on his cheek, you jumped gleefully to your room, unaware of how your innocent crush would cause later on.

It wouldn't be difficult to track down anyone you talk to, let alone someone who wants to be with you. 

[ahopelessromantic]

Children of Sun and Darkness (M)

Part two of A Child of Sun and Darkness

Pairing: The Darkling x Sun Summoner! female reader

Word count: 8,7k (oh boy)

Warnings: once again, spoiler of the Darkling’s name, SMUT, Aleksander being a SIMP, fluff, so much fluff, villainous behavior

A/N: I really, really got carried away with this one. Especially since I didn’t even intend to have any smut in here. But alas, the apology letters to Ben Barnes and Leigh Bardugo are sent once more and I wish you all a happy reading experience. I really do must warn you again of the Darkling as a father though, I don’t think you’re ready.

A gorgeous ray of sunshine was tickling your barely awake self.  There were things to do, certainly, but your bed felt far too heavenly to be left already. The air had recently begun to smell like the promise of summer, and it paired so nicely with the flowers Aleksander always brought to your bedside table. Aleksander, you thought sleepily and slowly opened your eyes. You would have loved to curl into his lean body for a few more minutes before getting up, but it seemed like he had already so cruelly abandoned you. You were about to pout like a little baby when a soft morning wind carried the sound of laughter through your window. Aleksander must have opened it before leaving your shared chambers. Wanting to know the source of these joyous sounds, you slipped into your morning robe and stepped in front of the big window. After your marriage to the infamous Darkling, the two of you had moved your chambers to be closer to the Little Palace’s beautiful gardens. From where you stood now, your position on the second floor gave you the perfect view over them.

“There she is.” Your husband beamed with his lovely deep voice. He was looking up to you with nothing but adoration in his eyes, and you couldn’t help but smile yourself. Your daughter, barely even four, shrieked happily at your sight and sent another ray of sunshine your way. “Good morning, my love!” You called out to her. She ran up to her father, who picked her up so she could see you better. Your chest warmed at the sight of the two people you loved most in the world, the serenity in their expressions. “Good morning Mama!” She giggled back. You blew her a kiss, which she caught enthusiastically. “You should have awoken me!” You chided your husband. He smiled. “How could I, when you were sleeping so peacefully? Besides, we wanted to try if Ilona could get her sun rays all the way through to our bed. Did she manage it?” The proudest smile grew across your lips. “She did. You did amazing, honey. So amazing, that when I get down there, I’m gonna have to smooch you all over!” “NOOO!” She screamed and skipped away to the pond to look at her beloved fish. “Are you coming down for breakfast? I already had the servants set out a table.” You sighed happily and just looked at your husband for a moment. “You really do think of everything, don’t you?” The grin he sent you in response caused your knees to weaken. “Who would I be if I didn’t.” To hide your blush, you scrunched your nose and disappeared from the window to get dressed for the day. Only a short while later you had finally made it to the gardens, clad in the same colour as your husband: deep black. Upon seeing you, your daughter began to happily run towards you. Suddenly then she seemed to remember your threat of extra smooches and turned around, but it was too late. You caught up with her and gathered her into your arms, tickling and kissing her all over. She laughed loudly, only half trying to escape. “Good morning, little sunshine.” You finally properly greeted her once you were done, pressing a long kiss to the top of her head. She turned around in your arms and buried her face in your neck. “Did I do good with the sunray, mama?” You smiled and pulled her even closer. “You did so well, Ilona. I love you.” She leaned away to look at you, the brightest smile on her adorable little face. “I love you!” She responded and kissed your cheek. Saints, she was everything good and soft in the world come to life. “Can I go feed the fishies?” She asked enthusiastically. You grinned at her, forever enchanted by the little human that was so you and so Aleksander. “Of course you can. Go ask the servants, they’ll give you some food for them.” The Darkling, who had watched the interaction between you and your daughter, stepped forward with a happy smile. You were about to ask what specifically he was smiling about when he placed his lips on yours in a passionate kiss. There was barely anyone around, but the kiss’ immodesty still caused your cheeks to flush. “My sun.” He whispered, only for you to hear. “I swear you look lovelier by the day.” You sighed, still phased by the kiss, and slid your arms around his waist. “And I swear you get more charming by the day. Is it a thing of darkness, your cheek? I think I see some of it in Ilona.” He chuckled and pressed a kiss to your temple. “I think that’s all you actually.” He nodded to where she was knelt on the edge of the pond, apparently talking to its inhabitants. “I only know one other being that can be so kind and yet so fierce.” For a moment, his words rendered you speechless, but then you pinched the fabric of his kefta. “Alright, Mr Darkling, now you’re overdoing it. Where is this breakfast you’ve promised me? I’m starving.”

Giggling like the two lovestruck Grisha you had been years ago, you set off to the little table laden with delicious breakfast foods. It gave you a perfect view of your daughter, close enough to see her, yet far away enough to allow her the space even she as a little person was owed. You and your little family spent most mornings like this: Breaking the fast together, you and your husband watching your daughter play, talking court politics while eating. There were unrests in Ravka again, unrests the old king didn’t seem capable of dealing with. “He’s a fool, and I wished I could see him gone.” You hummed at your husband’s words, staring at your tea in deep thought. If he had only been just a fool, you thought. He wouldn’t be any danger to anyone, then, but his empty-brained attempts at displays of dominance were costing the second army precious lives every time. But he was still the king, and the two of you were still just the second army’s general and his wife. “Careful with the treason talk so early in the morning, my love. I don’t think it’s all that becoming with my sweet roll.” He smiled and took your hand from across the table. You squeezed it and sent him a meaningful glance. “Besides, you never know who might be listening. You know I couldn’t bear it if the Lantsov family were to imprison you.” Aleksander sighed, now, and wistfully looked across the Little Palace’s grounds. Some Grisha were training in the far distance, Inferni, by the looks of it. His gaze was pensive, a look you well knew by now- he was planning something. But apparently, it was too early to let you in on his schemes yet. He just pressed a kiss to your knuckles and looked at you in earnest. “I promise you, my sun. One day, we won’t have to bow to anyone. Our world will only consist of our family and Grisha, and it will be safe. I promise.” An unexpectedly reverent feeling spread across the breakfast table. You nodded solemnly. “One day.” You whispered back. That seemed to please him because his face returned to the kind smiles he usually wore around you, and he pressed another kiss to the back of your hand. “I love you.” He mouthed at you, and you mouthed it right back. Then, as it tended to happen with a toddler child, the two of you were interrupted by Ilona climbing into her father’s lap. “Papa, can I have a dagger?” Both you and Aleksander snorted out a laugh at the determination in your daughter’s voice. She really was a force of nature, your little one- quite literally. Not fully in control of her powers yet, she seemed eternally surrounded half by darkness, half by light. No one had thought it possible, but so far it seemed she had inherited both yours and your beloved’s powers. Ballads were being sung about her in taverns ever since word of her powers had left the Palace walls and witch hunters trying to get to her ever since that, too. Now, Aleksander Morozova had always been concerned with the safety of all Grisha. But more and more often these days you found him pacing in his war room at night, or watching your daughter with far more than fatherly sorrow. It was an all-consuming fear and sorrow for her safety- one you shared. There was nothing you wouldn’t do to know her safe. Once you had been driven by ambition, then by love for your husband. But now such a fierce protectiveness spurred you on that caused you to think yourself capable of far greater evils than your husband had ever committed.

“Do you think the Second Army would follow us? If we were to split from the king?” Aleksander’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, his deep brown eyes finding yours. The two of you had been dealing with some late-night paperwork, General’s duties. As the sun summoner and, in addition, the Darkling’s wife, you almost held as much power and responsibility as him these days. Your husband put down his pen and pensively sank back into his chair. “I don’t know.” He uttered finally. “I wish they would, of course. But some Grisha are as loyal to Ravka as Otkazat'sya. Some of them do wish to serve their country. And some of them do love their king.” He grimaced at that, and you had to bite back a laugh. “Ravka’s eagle is double-headed for a reason, you know.” He continued, and you turned serious once more. The sentiment of Ravka’s duality was a nice one- but one that was destined to fail, in your opinion. The Grisha already lived so separated from the country’s regular citizens that it was almost ridiculous to even count them as part of them. Most Otkazat'sya seemed to condemn Grisha for their powers, and most Grisha seemed to look down on the Otkazat'sya. They both had their good reasons, you figured. But how much contempt, how much annoyance or even hatred separated non-Grisha from Drüskelle? You inwardly shuddered at the thought of Fjerda’s Army, with their repeating rifles and their ruthlessness. Aleksander’s hand on your shoulder caused you to return to reality. “What’s on your mind, my sun?” He asked, his voice ever so soft. Sometimes, with how much love he showed you every day, you forgot about how evil he could be, how hated he was by so many. “I-“ You began, then sighed. “I’m thinking about what you said the other day, at breakfast. About not having to bow to anyone. I’ve been thinking about it a lot, actually. What would happen if we were to take one of the eagle’s heads? Leave the people and their Lantsovs to themselves and found our own sovereign nation of Grisha power. It would be of the tsar family’s interest to stay in our good natures, we could trade their foods and goods for our protection. But on our own terms. And we would be safe, in a city of our own, protected by Fabrikator walls and your Darkness. Ilona would be safe.” Your husband had that look on his face again. That look of deep contemplation. “A safe place for all Grisha. Most importantly, Ilona. That’s all I’ve ever wanted in life.” He said quietly. You stroked his cheek, ran a hand through his hair. “I know.” You hummed. For a moment, you spotted a glimpse of the man he had been when your daughter had been born. He had been so eager to do everything right. So happy, yet so frightened and worried at the same time. His first words upon seeing the little bundle that was your newborn daughter had been “She’s so small”, accompanied by tearful eyes. She had been small indeed, so very little. During the first weeks after her birth, whenever you hadn’t been holding her, he had been. There hadn’t been a nanny, a wet nurse even. The both of you had been far too afraid to let your precious daughter out of your sight. Still were. She was your everything. You felt guilty for steering your nightly conversation down such a dark path, so you took his hand and lovingly squeezed it. “I trust you, Aleksander. I trust you to do what’s right for us as Grisha, and for us as a family. And believe me when I say I will be by your side for anything you ever decide on doing.” The smallest of smiles began to tug at his lips. “Come on now.” You said softly and breathed a kiss against his jaw. “It’s late, and it’s my matrimonial duty to distract my betrothed from any worries that might plague him.” He was fully smiling now, a familiar playful glint in his eyes. He tilted his head and looked at you with one raised eyebrow. “How would you think to go about doing that?” You returned his playful smile and got up to settle yourself right into his lap. Something dark flashed across his eyes, something that told you you wouldn’t yet sleep for many more hours. “What about this?” You whispered and experimentally ground down on him. A devious smile was on your lips. For a moment, he let you have the upper hand. Leaned his head back, breathed deeply. Sometimes, you were allowed to see him like this. To have him like this. Feeling bashful, you leaned forward to place a myriad of kisses against his neck. You could almost hear his heartbeat speeding up, his breathing growing heavier. His hands wandered to your waist, then to your hips. He used his strength to press you down on him, and it was then that you were done for. Your moment had ended, it was his turn now. Aleksander looked up at you with dark eyes, his pupils were blown wide and barely noticeable in the low lighting. “I wish you could see yourself the way I see you sometimes.” His voice had dropped at least an octave deeper. “My perfect, perfect wife. My perfect sun, with a body so powerful. A body strong enough to bear life.” Feeling very vulnerable all of a sudden, you had to make an effort to bite back the tears that had risen to your eyes. Your husband truly always knew what exactly to say- even to a mother who sometimes found herself quite insecure in her new curves. “I love you.” You marvelled, kissing him softly. He smiled into the kiss and deepened it until you were both gasping for air. “Shall we retreat for the night, my sun?” You were about to respond when he lifted you up and placed you on the table the two of you had been sitting at. “Or do you want to taint this place forevermore? Curse it, so I think of being inside of you whenever I hold council here?” You innocently looked up at him through your lashes. Then, you smirked. That seemed to have been answer enough, because he was on you again in seconds, devouring every inch of skin he came across. “Do you remember our first night?” You gasped out between moans. Aleksander stopped in his tracks for a moment to look at you, lifted your chin with his fingers. He looked unravelled. Like he was merely dangling by a thread anymore. “You mean when I almost had you in the hallway, of all places?” You grinned and felt your eyes light up. “Exactly.” You whispered and leaned forward to capture his lips again. He groaned into the kiss. “Saints.” He panted. He seldomly addressed saints, if ever. It sent a wave of cocky satisfaction through you. “All this time with you, and you still find ways to catch me off guard.” Chuckling, you pulled him impossibly closer by his collar, crossing your legs behind his waist and grinding up against him. “I think it’s included in those matrimonial duties of mine.” “You’re going to have to- ah.” He took a deep breath. “-Send me a list of those.” You wanted to respond something, anything, but you didn’t get the chance to. Not while your kefta was being unclasped, not while his hands bunched up your skirts around your hips. “Do you want to go slower?” He asked, breathing heavily, his forehead leaned against yours. You closed your eyes for a moment, then smiled. You felt surrounded by your husband, by his scent, his presence, his arms. Most of all, you felt safe. A kind of safety only Aleksander had ever been able to provide for you. After a moment, you shook your head. “No.” You answered, nipping at his neck. “No.” You said again, sliding his kefta off his shoulders. “I want you. I need you. Now.” Suddenly, time seemed to speed up. You helped the Darkling unbuckle his pants, shrugged off your own coat, allowed him to rip most of your blouse open. The thoughts of witch hunters and civil unrests were still heavy on your mind, and you wanted him hard and fast, so he could take away all of your worries. Normally you weren’t as impatient as this. The two of you loved drawing things out in the bedroom, all teasing kisses and devilish grins. But today, things were different. Today you wanted to forget. Today you wanted to be overpowered by him. You didn’t even have the proper time to admire his length, for as soon as it had been exposed, it was already teasing along your folds. You sighed out shakily. “How badly do you want it?” Aleksander asked, one hand playing with your breast. “So badly, Aleksander.” He sighed at that, too. His name from your words would maybe never lose its effect. “If you were taken from me, I would kill. I would destroy entire cities to have you again. To have this again.” Your words almost felt as intimate as your wedding vows. They sent you both forward again, lips colliding in a clash of teeth. His tongue touched yours and sent a bolt of electricity down to your nether regions. “Nothing. Do you hear me? Nothing will ever take me from you.” He vowed back. With that, he entered you, and you both moaned out loudly. “Fuck!” He almost yelled. “How are you still so tight?” It was clearly a rhetorical question he didn’t want an answer for, for his hands were clasped around your neck. You allowed your head to drop back in pleasure and voluntarily clenched around him. “All for you.” You rasped out through his grip. He started fucking into you at that, the both of you losing your ability to form proper sentences once the so familiar fire started to spread between you. Somewhere, the edge of a book was pricking into your side, but it only spurred you on further. You always felt like the queen of the world like this- desired, full of pleasure, the most powerful man in the kingdom losing himself in you. You thought of how he would never be able to look at this table normally again, how he would twitch in that adorable way of his whenever people weren’t paying attention to him. Saints, you loved him. You loved him. Your heart felt warm and full, but so did you. At some point he hoisted you even further onto the table, his pace relentless now. But you didn’t care, you needed more, more, more. “Aleksander!” You gasped out when he brushed up against that place inside of you. “I love you.” You panted, tightening your legs around him. He looked at you like there was nothing else ever worth being looked at. Like you were a painting he could neither understand nor get enough of. With shaky hands he moved a few wayward strands of hair out of your face, then he cupped it in his hands tightly. “I love you.” He answered, stressing each word with a thrust of his hips. “Oh fucking saints, I love you. I’m so close.” “Let go.” You encouraged him seductively, tugging at the hair in the nape of his neck. “Give it to me, Aleksander.” His pace seemed to grow impossibly faster until it grew erratic. “My sun. My love, my goddess, I’m going to-“ With a loud moan, he came, his pulsating member spilling his seed into you. You helped him ride out his high, pulled him closer, clenched and unclenched in his rhythm. He shuddered at that; head buried in your neck. It was your moment once again. He was all yours to have. “I love you.” The two of you whispered at almost the same time and broke out into laughter. But the laughter caused you to clench again, and Aleksander winced from the hypersensitivity. “You’re just too tight, my love.” He almost teased and moved to remove himself from you. He wasn’t really in a state to tease again, yet. You pouted. “But I don’t want you to leave me. I always feel so empty afterwards.” He breathed a kiss to your cheek that could have well been a concealed laugh. Sometimes the two of you would stay connected like that for ages, neither of you willing to end this incredibly pleasurable state of warmth and satiation. But while that was easy to do on a bed, it wasn’t so much on a desk. “Besides.” You continued. “We’re going to make a mess.” Your husband looked at you, his lower lip caught between his teeth. “I like the mess.”, he said decidedly. “Leave it to the servants to be cleaned up. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? For someone to know what cursed, unholy things their Saint does for her evil husband?” You barely even blushed at his words. Saints, he had ruined you- in the best way possible. “Now come on, my sun.” He uttered. “If I remember correctly, you still need taking care of.” You shuddered at the thought of what was to come. His fingers inside of you, his lips on your most sensitive spot. Oh, how good you had it. Smiling and holding his hand, you followed your husband back to your chambers. He stayed true to his promise there- two times. Afterwards, you sleepily held him in your arms, your fingers drawing abstract, invisible designs onto the skin of his back. Through the connection the two of you shared you could feel his peacefulness as if it was your own, a sense of pride filling you. You were the one in whose presence he could relax, let his guards down- no one else. You pressed a gentle kiss to his hair, a silent ‘I love you’. “My love?” He murmured and pressed an equally soft kiss to your shoulder. “Hm?” You hummed in response and watched your husband straighten up so he was able to look you in the eyes. He sighed, visibly struggling to find the right words. “I want more children, as many you’d be willing to have. Brothers and sisters for Ilona, so she will never be alone. More time for us to experience holding a newborn babe again. But I fear for our daughter so much, every day. I fear for any future children of ours, even. And I think we’ve lived in fear for long enough. I’ve lived in fear long enough. I thought if we just waited for the king to die, waited for him to live out his pathetic mortal life, we could seize control one day. But I’ve been patient for centuries, and I’m tired of it. I think the time for action has come.” Aleksander’s words caused you to sit up, too, your heartbeat uncontrollably speeding up. “Will you fight with me, my love?” You pensively moved a strand of his hair away from his gorgeous features, then lifted your chin. “Always.” You breathed. The smallest of smiles lit up his face. Your husband leaned up to kiss you, then pulled you into his embrace. “We’ll change the world. For us. For our family.” You squeezed his arm in response. You truly would.

The next few months were spent meticulously planning the beheading of the ravkan eagle. Your mornings were spent in softness, laughing with your daughter, cuddling with her in bed, and then that softness was exchanged for the coldness of daily council meetings. Spies were seeking out the intelligence of the opinions of Grisha on a potential Grisha state, letters were being sent, fighting styles being trained. The king and queen would pose the smallest problems for your cause- they would either cooperate with the second army’s leaving or leave their lives. Angry mobs were your bigger worry- there was a smart way to go about the splitting off of the kingdom, and you were eager to take it, with as few casualties as possible. Then there was the question of your new country’s location. You didn’t need lands the size of Ravka, but you still needed space for houses, training facilities, farmlands. Surprisingly many Grisha were open to leading a simple life of caring for crops and animals, having long tired of the so-called ‘war effort’. Your council meetings grew with each week, more and more Grisha eager to take part in the founding of a home of their own. Fresh faces kept on turning up every week- a Suli Fabrikator here, a Shu Healer there. The once so spacious halls of the Little Palace were beginning to feel cosy, filled with the hope of new alliances forming. It was getting harder by the day to keep your efforts hidden from the king, and the time to strike seemed to be nearing. Ilona seemed to be feeling it, too. Her new favourite pastime was to make friends with as many of the new Grisha as possible. You and Aleksander had both felt apprehensive about it at first, but once you deemed her safe you realized how much power of her own she truly held. She was a symbol. A symbol of you and your husband’s strength, of a new generation of Grisha. A generation that would grow up in safety, without being trained to be used in fights their entire lives. The people in the Little Palace loved her, they had taken to calling her the ‘Grisha princess’. It made you partly proud, partly uncomfortable. You didn’t want her to be an instrument in your fight for freedom, just another weapon to be used, but you couldn’t hide her away, either. She was still small, and young, but she still deserved a life in the light. Late at night, when he was feeling particularly safe and vulnerable, Aleksander sometimes told you stories from his childhood, his youth. How his mother had eternally urged him to stay hidden in the shadows. It wasn’t a way to live, he had once said. And he was right. Ilona deserved her fishpond, her Grisha friends, her chance to openly use her powers. One day, you and your husband already deep into planning your coup, you watched her play with a young Squaller boy. They were both laughing loudly, their happiness more than contagious. You found yourself smiling, heart and body warmed by the afternoon sun. This was what you were fighting for. What you were always going to fight for. Freedom. Only a few weeks later, the time had come. The king was holding a ball, and it was the perfect opportunity for a show of strength. Countless honorary representatives had been invited, the perfect audience for what you were planning to do. You, your husband, and your legion were hoping for a peaceful encounter. The second army was going to show in its full strength, crowd into the ballroom and declare its conditions. You all hoped the sense of unity you had all started to feel would make itself noticeable, pose a threat. The council meetings with your fellow Grisha had long ceased to feel like generals talking to their subordinates. You were equals in your cause, and as the objectively most powerful Grisha, you and your husband were treated with the respect of such. Almost everyone doubtlessly acknowledged you as the heads of your operation, the rulers of Little Palace. The king, of course, was going to be appalled, yes enraged even over your actions. He would spew harmless threats at first, feeling ashamed and belittled for having missed out on developments of such a grand scale right under his eyes. But his power was by far no match for yours. It had come just as you had hoped it would. The king of Ravka had begrudgingly signed your declaration of independence after hours of discussions, angry tantrums and finally quiet pleads. The Grisha would have their own eagle from now on- no shared heads. You would claim lands west of the fold, protected from each side by mountains, the true sea and the world of shadows your husband had created so long ago. The people already living there would have the choice of continuing to stay there, or move somewhere else for a compensation. Grisha from all over the world would be welcome in this sanctuary- you had space and power enough to keep them all safe. Once the coup was over and done with, you sought out a moment alone with your husband. It was a few days after, and both of you had been stuck in nonstop meetings and conversations with fellow Grisha. There was the name of your nation to be decided on, the flag, the layout of your new city. You had been so busy even, that your victory still hadn’t fully registered with you. “Are you alright?” You nervously asked Aleksander in his private office. It was nicely cool and dark there, a welcome change from the Little Palace’s crowded halls. His eyes met yours at that, a smile reflected in them. He looked the healthiest you had ever seen him, a new vigour in the way he moved. Sometimes you forgot that, while you shared the same cause, it already had been his before that for centuries. His years of pain and solitude had finally paid off. “I am not just alright, my love. I’m overcome with joy. Don’t you see it? We’ve changed the world.” You bit your lip, suddenly feeling overcome with emotion and fairly vulnerable. Carefully stepping into his embrace, you took in his scent, sought out his ever so calming touch. Just like he had done in the very early days of your relationship, he wrapped the two of you in comforting darkness. “I’m a bit scared.” You admitted quietly, choked up with tears. “It feels surreal that we’ve won.” Aleksander sighed and pulled you closer to his body. He knew what you meant- he had felt it too. This fear of everything being ripped away as soon as you’d held it in your grasp. “I know.” He murmured and pressed a kiss to your temple. “But it is done. Our declaration has been signed by the king, his ministers. The first army will allow us to leave- or be met with our collected strength. You’ve seen the halls outside, the gardens. I don’t think as many Grisha as this have ever been in one place, in all of history.” You looked up at his face, the beauty of his finely chiselled cheekbones. He was pure strength, safety. As if to remind you of your own power, you filled the room with a golden glow. You were the legendary shadow and sun summoner, the two strongest Grisha who had ever lived- nothing was going to come into your way. You got onto your tiptoes and hugged him tightly, buried your head in his neck. He reached his arms around your waist, and his so familiar certainty flooded your bloodstream. “We’ll have everything.” You murmured, half incredulously. Your husband chuckled at that and playfully squeezed you tight. “I promised that, didn’t I? I think it’s part of my matrimonial duties.” You both laughed, pulling away to look into each other’s eyes. Aleksander caressed the side of your face, nothing but devotion in his gaze. “I know that this new reality is frightening. We have more to lose than ever. But we can carry this fear together. Turn it into something beautiful, something to last for centuries. We’re not alone as long as we have each other.” At that, you leaned up to kiss him lovingly. You both sighed against the other’s lips. It had been ages since the two of you had last had the time to lose yourselves in each other’s embraces. “We’ll have all the time in the world for this, soon.” You realized suddenly, happily. The darkling smiled. “We will. We will my love.”

A few months later, your husband stormed into your chambers. He exuded a wild sort of happiness, his eyes restless. First, he pressed a kiss to Ilona's head, then he picked her up and twirled her around. She shrieked with laughter, and you lowered the book you had been reading while your daughter had played into your lap. Aleksander’s eyes met yours, untamed joy written in his features. “It is finished.” He spoked, and as if struck by lightning, you got up from your seat. Your book clattered to the floor, and the loud sound sent your heart racing. “Is it really?” You quietly asked, eyes wide and incredulous. He nodded reverently, hugging Ilona close to his chest. “The head of the Durasts received the word just this morning. The Fabrikators have finished our city, based on the drawings we’ve both seen. It’s marvellous, according to their reports.” Your hand wandered to your heart, as if to will it to go slower. You breathed heavily, taking a moment to let the realization sink in. You would be safe, on your own terms. Not the king’s. Both you and your husband had been overseeing the construction of your new city from within the Little Palace’s walls, not wanting to leave until it seemed completely safe. For months, assorted groups of Grisha soldiers, healers and most importantly, Durasts, had been crossing the fold to make your shared dream of a Grisha nation come true. The Darkling stepped closer to you, put his arms around both you and your daughter. A giggle escaped your lips. “It’s done.” You breathed; happy tears in your eyes. Aleksander returned your look with equal happiness and leaned forward to press a kiss between your eyes. Ilona giggled, sensing the happiness of her parents. “We can start the moving nothing shorter than this week if you want to. They’ll need your powers for the fold.” Sending smaller groups through the fold was alright. But for the massive move you were planning, you would accompany the myriad of coaches and carts, to keep the Grisha and their belongings safe. “The two of you will be alright here, for a while?” You poked Ilona’s side, and both her and your husband laughed. “We’ll have loads of fun. We’ll have a parade to say goodbye to all the fish, and we’ll tour the Little Palace to pick out all the paintings Ilona wants to take with her.” You grinned happily. They’d truly be alright.

The move was exhausting but fulfilling. You crossed the fold several times a week, accompanied by carts stacked with furniture, livestock and necessary equipment. Once an Alkemi cart almost eradicated a group of Inferni, a sign of how nervous and eager everyone was to escape into a country of their own. Your favourite part was listening in on the other Grisha’s conversations while guiding them through the fold. There was a group of young tidemakers gushing about the prospect of seeing the true sea for the first time and playing with it, two Alkemi discussing how to maximize carrot harvests with the right mixture of sun and Grisha fertilizer. You hadn’t been to the new capital yet, only seen its buildings gleaming in the far-off distance. You wanted it to be a surprise, to set foot in it for the first time with your husband and daughter.

“Enjoying the view one last time?” You asked gently and leaned against the doorframe. Aleksander turned to look at you in surprise, looking a bit lost in the empty room. The time to leave had come, and he had been quietly saying his goodbyes to the Little Palace for the past week. The two of you stood in what had once been his office, now nothing but an empty room with a pretty view. Your husband sighed, something in his expression calling out to you. You walked up to him and allowed him to put his arms around you. “Where’s Ilona?” He asked softly. You smiled. “With the other children. I think they’re playing one last epic round of hide and seek.” That answer seemed to calm him, free his thoughts for other topics. The two of you stared out of the window in silence for a while. Eventually, he sighed. His chin leaned on your shoulder, and you could feel his apprehensiveness. “I’ve wanted to leave this godforsaken place for decades. To never have to see the Grand Palace again. But despite all of that leaving is…” He trailed off, his gaze wandering into the distance. “It’s harder than I expected.” You placed your hands on his arms around you, squeezed them gently. “You’ve built this place. It’s only understandable you find it difficult to leave behind.” He scoffed, and you knew that sound. He made it whenever he was feeling something he hadn’t expected to feel. “This was the first place I’ve ever felt safe in. The first at least relatively safe place for Grisha there’s ever been.” You gulped down a ball of tears. “You should be proud of that.” You whispered. At that, he finally smiled. “You’re right. This is a first draft- a product of the past. We’re moving into the future now.” Grasping one of his hands, you held it up to your lips to press a kiss against it. “Are there any things you still want to take with you? Any last thing you still want to do?” He turned you around in his embrace and pressed your back against the wall right next to the window. A playful glint was in his eyes now, and you were overwhelmed by the sheer happiness he exuded. “I could think of a few things.” He placed a naughty kiss against the side of your neck, and you giggled. “You’re insatiable.” He straightened back up to look at you again and took an impossible step closer to you. “For you? Always.” He breathed, and the time for laughter was over.

The move to your new home took about three days. You wanted to take your time, show Ilona the parts of Ravka she had never seen. But of all things, the Shadow Fold seemed to have awoken her interest the most. While the other children and many adults, too, huddled close for protection, she skipped ahead. Her head was continuously tilted upwards in an attempt to take everything in. “I think she’s sensing your power. It feels familiar to her.” You smiled, taking your husband’s arm. His gaze was fixed to your daughter’s small figure, and his eyes glistened suspiciously. It was only then it dawned upon you- the Fold had been his biggest mistake, his very own monster- an abomination. Seeing his own daughter treat it with so much innocent fascination must have stirred hurt parts of his soul you couldn’t even begin to imagine. Your smile died down into a face of quiet adoration. You took a step back and left Aleksander to have this moment by himself. After centuries, he probably had been starving for one like it. After a few minutes, he turned around, his gaze seeking yours. There weren’t many Grisha around, most of them had moved already, so he allowed himself to keep his guards a bit lower than he usually did in the presence of other people. You sent him an encouraging smile and caught up with him to take his hand. “Do you want to catch up with her? We should probably get back to the coach if we want to make it out of the fold by noon.” He returned your smile, then took off towards your daughter in quick strides. “I’m coming to get you, Ilona!” She put up quite the fight, but in the end, she curled into her father’s arms, still giggling. She had always loved playing catch with him, even when her legs had barely carried her for more than a few steps. You didn’t miss the way Aleksander first glanced at the Fold around him, kept at bay by your powers, and then buried his face in Ilona’s hair. He was cherishing every moment of this. The next day, Nostova’s walls finally appeared on the horizon. The name you had ended up deciding on for your new country meant home, and you already felt a fierce kind of pride for it. “It’s just like the drawings.” You marvelled while finally riding through the gates. The bright Fabrikator made walls gleamed in the afternoon walls, and behind every corner, something new took your breath away. Eventually, you finally arrived at the most important building- your new home. It slightly resembled the Little Palace but looked… homier. There was enough space for administrative offices, meeting rooms, ballrooms for celebrations and a great hall to receive visitors. Emissaries from Ravka or Grisha with petitions, things of that sort. Walking through it, an eternal look of astonishment seemed to take hold of your face. It took you everything not to openly gape at the beautiful furnishings, the symbol of your nation etched into the entrance hall’s stone. An eagle, half shrouded by shadows, half dipped in light. It looked proud, grim, protective. And not like the Ravkan eagle at all. But what you liked most of it all were your new private chambers. There was space enough for at least four more toddlers, a library of your favourite books, a sitting room with a painting of you and your husband. It felt regal and comfortable at the same time. There was a private little staircase from your and Ilona’s bedrooms to the garden, something Aleksander had specifically requested. The Fabrikators had outdone themselves, and you only hoped they would feel the same pride in their work as you felt looking at it. The compensation they had received for their work would allow them more than comfortable lives in Nostova, lives they would hopefully enjoy. Your heart almost bursting with happiness, you watched Ilona and your husband take your new living quarters by storm, your little princess loudly counting down everything she approved of. With an inward sigh, you realized how spoiled she was going to be here. But whenever you talked to Aleksander about that he never seemed to quite understand the problem. ‘Let her be spoiled’, he only always said. Sometimes you forgot just how wrapped around Ilona’s little fingers he was. An odd thought struck you at the sight of your little family. This, Nostova, would be the first time in so long Grisha families would be able to stay together. Children would have their mothers and fathers again, would be allowed to train their powers with them by their side. “You look a little choked up, my love.” Your husband said teasingly, coming to a halt in front of you. His breathing was heavy from all the running around with your girl, and his hair was a mess. The darkling you had first met at the Fold years ago would claw his eyes out at the sight. You grinned at him, completely at ease with your husband seeing your emotions. “I’m just beginning to realize what all of this means. It’s incredible.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek, at which Ilona demanded he return to her so they could explore the rest of your rooms. You and your husband shared a laugh, taking a moment to revel in your happiness. “I have a surprise for you later.” He whispered into your ear, and then he was gone, back to playing with your daughter. You had to refrain from fanning your face. Your cheeks felt very hot all of a sudden.

“Where are we going?” You whisper shouted, tightly holding onto your husband’s hand. This definitely wasn’t the kind of surprise you had expected. Aleksander chuckled and just kept dragging you in the direction of Nostova Castle’s main wing. After many halls and double doors, he finally came to a halt in front of a set of gilded doors. He positioned himself between you and them, an impish smile on his face. “I know I told you you’ve already seen most of the castle, but I wanted to keep this as a surprise for you. Show it to you when it’s just us two.” You lifted your eyebrows, your excitement starting to match with his. “What is it?” He bit his lips, seemingly conflicted. “Close your eyes.” He finally commanded. You breathed out a laugh in surprise but complied. “For someone who’s centuries-old, you really do behave childishly sometimes.” Your husband chuckled. “Now, dearest wife. Don’t stab where it hurts. Besides, you have centuries ahead of you yourself.” At that, you smiled. You did. Centuries by your husband’s side, centuries to watch your children grow up in peace and find love themselves. Your husband had already led you into the room behind the golden doors. Your steps echoed loudly, a sign of its probable grandeur. The two of you stopped and you felt Aleksander step behind you. “Would you give us a little light, my sun?” Smiling, eyes still closed, you called upon enough light to dip your surroundings in a light glow. “This…” He started, then sighed. “This is the most important room in the castle. We’ll receive guests here, announce decisions… open your eyes. This is our throne room.” Your eyes snapped open, and you couldn’t help the gasp that escaped your lips. Just in front of you, on top of a few stairs, two breath-taking chairs overlooked the room. To your feet, a stunning mosaic of a sun in eclipse was let into the floor. One of the chairs was made of part gold, part glass, the glass reflecting your light beautifully and sending it through the room in tiny specks. The other one was made of the darkest wood, silver stars worked into the back- and armrests. But that wasn’t even the most beautiful aspect of them. The chairs stood a few inches apart, but where they were closest to each other they bled into the colour of the other. The golden one’s side was dipped in black, the black one’s side in gold. They were undeniably yours. Still rendered speechless, you climbed the stairs and sat down in the golden chair. It was surprisingly comfortable, and from it, you could oversee the throne room in its entirety. It was beautiful and regal enough to put Ravka’s Palace’s rooms to shame. The Darkling looked at you nervously, awaiting a reaction. You smiled at him and beckoned him to join you. “It’s beautiful.” You said happily, a smile growing across your husband’s face in return. He sat down in his place next to you, and for a moment the two of you just sat there and took in the view. This was your status now. Sovereigns of your very own nation, with thrones to call your own. You got up from your seat, enjoying the Darkling’s eyes on you. You stepped in front of him and slowly curtsied, conjuring your best demure expression. “Moi soverennyi.” You breathed out, looking at him from beneath your lashes. He chuckled, but you didn’t miss the hunger flashing in his eyes. You had decided to stick with his old title and have people address you as such, too. Nostova felt like it had outgrown the concept of Kings and Queens, but you and your husband both still undeniably held the power over the state. Feeling bold in the dark of the night, you sank into your husband’s lap. He was quick to pull you close, put his arms around you. “How improper you are, my lady.” You stifled a laugh. “I had to see if yours is comfortable, too, didn’t I?” He chuckled and littered kisses against your jaw, your cheek, your neck. “I can’t even tell you with how much joy it fills me to see you so happy here. Ilona, too.” Still smiling, you played with fingers. “I am happy.” You confirmed. “Happy we finally have made our place in the world. Made it ours. At the perfect timing, too.” You felt Aleksander start at that, and he turned you in his lap so he could look at your face. “What do you mean?” He looked confused, and a bit scared. Deciding he could stay like that for a moment, you just took him in, smoothed his hair back. He was beautiful. Powerful, dangerous, yours. “Don’t you feel it?” It wouldn’t hurt him to tease him a bit more. Just like he always did when he wanted to feel what you felt he sought out the touch of your skin on his- and shuddered. “Oh my.” He whispered and touched you again as if to make sure. “My love!” His gaze locked with yours, wide with surprise. Then, the most brilliant smile split his sometimes eternal frown. “Is it really-?” You nodded and placed a hand on your belly. “Ilona will have her first sibling soon.” With that, Aleksander started frantically talking. “I must have been so distracted by all the planning that I haven’t even noticed it, I can’t believe it! Our second child! For how long! We must make preparations at once, call a Healer-” Tears of joy in your eyes, you shut him up with a kiss on the lips. “I’ve already talked to Asa, the same healer as last time. He figures I’m about four moons along. So there’s still plenty of time for us to prepare.” Aleksander just looked at you completely starstruck for a moment. “I love you.” He finally murmured. You smiled, placing your hand on top of his on your belly. “I love you more.”

Soon after, your first son would be born. Your lovely little boy, named Kiran. Ilona was completely smitten with him, just like you and your husband. After him, four more children followed. Some were sun summoners like you, some shadow summoners like your beloved husband, some both, like Ilona. But all of them would gain legendary status throughout the centuries. They would travel the world, help settle conflicts between the neighbouring countries that rose and fell as if in the blink of an eye. Nostova, on the contrary, remained eternal. Like you and your husband. Its peace had allowed Grisha to grow stronger than ever, and your nation now counted many thousand people as its citizens. Sometimes, your children would visit you in your capital. Some of them had settled down there, too, like Ilona. She had married a heartrender, and their children came to play with you and your husband on Sundays. Your life had become gentle, and kind. You could see it in your husband’s face, too, every day. Only the boldest of kings and queens dared threaten your home, and it barely happened for any of them to follow through with their threats. Neither you nor your husband had any regular fighting or defending to do. You had been allowed to devote yourselves to ruling justly and fair, raise a healthy nation. In the mornings, you stood by your bedroom’s window and watched young Grisha train the use of their powers. In the evenings, you fell asleep side by side, still giggling about the day’s happenings just like when you had both been young and restless. Grisha from all over the world had found peace. And so had you.

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Illuminated, pt.2

Summary: Seeing an old friend isn’t always a happy occasion, but it can direct you to someone who undoubtedly makes your heart beat faster.

Warnings: talk of war and death, book spoilers

Part 1   

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It felt strange to be walking the same halls she once revered. Y/N had barely grown at all since her time at Little Palace, if anything she'd claim she got shorter, but the walls didn't seem as intimidating as they used to.

Back then, she was just a clueless girl with dreams that turned into nightmares. The war had left deep wounds everywhere in Ravka and for that, Y/N would curse Alina Starkov's name until her dying breath.

Ravka trusted Alina to rescue them from the darkness, but she only expanded it. She fled from her responsibility and responded with force when General Kirigan asked for accountability.

Y/N was considered too young to be allowed in battle, sent away by the Darkling with children who have not yet mastered their particular branch of small science. Grisha a year older than her were given the chance to protect Ravka, something she wished she could have done. 

If it were up to her, she'd have stood by him instead of hiding.

Y/N had always been quite capable of controlling her power. Whether it be fire, wind or water, she held a firm grasp over all three elements with an iron fist and a terrifyingly sharp mind. She had developed attacks no one else is capable of, the kind that made other Grisha wary of her ferocity.

Naturally, she assumed that was why General Kirigan had called on her. The last thing she expected was to have the General, her King, admire the abominable blue flames she wields.

"Y/N?" A breathless reminder of a voice she once knew had stopped her in her tracks.

Looking over her shoulder, Y/N's lips break into a wide smile at the sight of her old friend and confidant.

She didn't waste time, running toward the girl who had fiery hair Y/N always wanted to have too. Colliding with Genya, Y/N couldn't stop a laugh that escaped her as she wrapped her arms around her much taller friend.

“I. Can’t. Breathe!” Genya manages to say between shallow, strained breaths. 

Chuckling, Y/N releases her from the death grip she calls a hug. She’s never been subtle in showing affection, or hate.

“I can’t believe it’s you!” Y/N exclaims, her attempt to quiet down failing before she even tries.

With a surprised smile set on her lips, Genya nods. “I didn’t realize you’d be at Little Palace.”

Faltering, Y/N licks her lips as her smile is erased. “You don’t seem too happy about that.”

“Little Palace isn’t exactly the safest place in Ravka anymore”, Genya musses.

Scoffing, Y/N furrows her eyebrows. “Alina made it unsafe.” Lifting her chin, Y/N continues, “The Darkling will protect us.”

Pursing her lips, Genya looks around carefully to ensure they’re alone. “That’s the problem. While he’s here, no one is safe.” Taking Y/N by the elbow, she pulls her aside toward the open window to help disguise their voices from any curious listeners. “Alina was our only hope of killing him.”

Ripping her arm away from Genya’s hold, Y/N narrows her eyes at the friend she once trusted more than anyone else in this world. When there was no hope, Genya put a smile on her face. Even when Y/N was losing herself, she had Genya to remind her of who she is.

She never doubted her friend, never questioned her loyalty or sanity. Until now. 

“Genya, who did you fight alongside with?” Y/N asks sharply, her lips forming a thin line.

“You don’t know the entire story”, Genya tries but Y/N steps away as if she’d been burned.

The war had made warriors from children for no matter how they tried to protect their innocence, war leaves no one untouched. When Alina Starkov decided to turn her back on Grisha, Y/N and many others have been forced to grow up far too quickly. No silly crushes or petty arguments mattered for the blood had reached them once Alina slaughtered Botkin in front of them. It was the only taste of war Y/N had for she had killed for the first time on that day. 

Alina is the reason she has blood on her hands.

“The story I do know is enough for me”, Y/N huffs as she shakes her head at Genya. “The fact our General did not kill you is proof of his generosity. Perhaps you should learn to appreciate him. Your precious Alina never showed such mercy.”

Turning her back on Genya, Y/N headed back. She didn’t want to explore the old corridors anymore, but to bathe and sleep. From tomorrow on, she’ll be working with Kirigan on her new ability and she didn’t want to display any reasons for him to distrust her.

She pauses as Genya speaks up.

“I wonder what will get you killed faster – your loyalty or stubbornness?”

Turning her head to the left, Y/N could see her old friend in her peripheral vision. “At least I’ll die for something I believe in. I’ll die for Ravka. Can you say the same?”

Fuming, Y/N tossed and turned in her bed. She turned the pillow to the colder side, she even tried turning her head on the opposite side of the headboard, but nothing could calm her mind or the itching to use her powers to blow off some steam.

The one part of herself she truly did connect with the Inferni was the temper she often got in trouble for. When Nina Zenik called her stupid, she burned off her eyebrows and Botkin forced her to wake up at the crack of dawn and do sprints for the next month as punishment. It’s probably the only time in her life she was truly in good form.

Grunting, she raised her legs and slammed them back on the mattress in frustration. Tossing the blanket off, she grabbed her blue kefta and left the room. 

Her footsteps echo the halls as she all but runs out, straight into the foggy morning air outside. The cold pinches her skin, her lips trembling for a moment before she sinks her front teeth into her bottom lip. Her breaths come in visible puffs of air as she wraps her arms around her middle while securing her hands under her armpits to stop herself from using her power that’s calling to her like the siren song calls sailors to their certain death.

Y/N always had the misfortune of wearing her heart on her sleeve with those she cares for. She also has a nasty tendency to either feel nothing or everything at once and when someone she loves turns out to be different than what she believed, it causes an uncontrollable explosion of emotion deep within.

“Is there a particular reason you’re outside at this ungodly hour?” A deep voice makes her gasp as she turns to look at the very person she most admires.

Raising her eyebrows, she nearly laughed as she realized the Darkling wore not his kefta, but the clothes he sleeps in. It’s loose clothing, black as his kefta and horse and yet it gives off a softness she did not realize a man as powerful as him could ever possess.

“I’d ask you the same, General”, she retorts with her eyebrows still raised as if she’s challenging him to come closer and make her stop ogling him.

For a moment, she thought he might turn away and leave as he stood there calmly. It feels as if he’s studying her, taking in every inch of her and committing it to memory. If it were any other man, Y/N would have spoken up or acted out to prevent the uncomfortable feeling of being watched so intimately, yet she didn’t want Kirigan to ever stop looking at her. If not for her fear of being too forward, she’d invite him closer.

As if he read her mind, Kirigan takes a step closer….and then another one. She can’t help but wonder what’s going through his mind. 

What does he see when he looks at her? 

How does she look in his eyes, because the way he’s looking at her now is taking her breath away?

He looks at her as if there is something worth looking at.

“Sometimes my mind turns on me”, he admits in a low, quiet tone that Y/N has to strain to hear him properly. “I’ve lived a long life and a longer one awaits me. My mind is full of ghosts that want retribution for what I did to them.”

Swallowing thickly, she straightens her back as she comes closer – close enough to feel his breath as it fans the hair at the top of her head.

“What did you do to them?”

The left corner of his lips twitches. “You’d think ill of me if I told you.”

Averting her gaze to his bare chest revealed by the wind as it pulled the fabric of his shirt, Y/N licks her lips. She argues with herself on her next move, wondering if it would be improper to touch the man who had been considered untouchable by everyone she ever met. Her fingers years to feel his skin under their tips, to slowly trail the jawline she wants to press her lips against.

Frowning softly, she bites her lower lip as she locks her eyes on his dark ones. Unlike many before her, she does not crumble under the weight of his heavy gaze. Her heart trembles as she reaches out and places her palm on his chest.

He didn’t expect her to touch him, tensing up. It’s surprising how warm her hand is, more so how inviting the warmth is. He’s hyper-aware of every breath he takes as his chest expands under her touch, hoping this incredibly brazen Grisha does not feel the way his heart jumps with the sudden surge of her bravery.

When he notices her lips move, he holds his breath as if the simple act of breathing could muffle her voice and make it harder for him to soak up the blind loyalty and love she holds for him.

“Who we are and who we need to be to survive are two different things. You’re not evil for choosing to protect yourself and your country. I could never think badly of you, General.”

It’s been a long time since he found someone so incredibly devoted to him and his cause, exhilarating him to the core. Alina had never truly believed in him for she always considered him wicked, but Y/N couldn’t be more different. Perhaps he’s right and this time it will work. 

With someone trusting as Y/N is, he can’t possibly fail again.

Letting her hand fall, Y/N looks away as she realizes she crossed the line and his silence is the easiest way for him to inform her of it. Truth be told, she wondered who was the last woman who got to lay her hand on his chest.

Was it Alina?

There were rumors of the relationship Kirigan and Alina supposedly had and Y/N always felt a pang of jealousy upon hearing the girls talk. She never knew him, she never truly had him and she never will, but the idea someone else does brought her pain.

Perhaps her overthinking or the increasingly awkward silence prompted her temper to speak instead of her brain.

"Did you love her?" Y/N blurts out. 

Her eyes widen as she realizes her thoughts have become vocal and in the presence of the very man she should be watching her mouth around.

"I apologize. It must be a difficult time to reminisce about." Maybe Nina was right – she is stupid!

"It is quite alright.” Darkling lets out an audibly heavy breath. “I did not love her, I trusted her. I trusted her enough to put all my hope for a better Ravka on her shoulders and she betrayed our country."

"No", she reaches out slowly, her hand finding its way to his as it gingerly grasps his fingers. "She betrayed you."

Smiling reluctantly, Kirigan finds himself wondering if he should embrace the fact Y/N seems to be a very touchy person or if he should set some boundaries. Despite the shiver that runs down his spine, he allows her hand to fully take his as he closes his fingers around hers.

"I should have seen it coming. I'm far too used to betrayal."

"I'd never do that", she pauses. "I'd never betray you. I'd never break your trust."

Her responses are quick, so innocent and naïve that he can’t help but feel guilty about every moment he spends near her. No one should send a doe eyed beauty into the clutches of a beast so easily, yet he has no desire to force her to leave.

"Don't make promises you can't keep."

Smiling, her entire face lights up. It’s a true delight to witness so early in the morning after a long night of nightmares he faced.

“Do not worry, General. I have every intention on proving myself to you.”

Glancing at their hands, her smile widens. She spent years wishing for this and now that it’s happening she can’t seem to believe it’s real.

“The sun will come up soon”, he changes the topic.

Y/N fears he might leave and her hand would be back at her side as she watches his retreating figure, but when he speaks again her heart dances in her chest.

“Would you like to watch the sunrise with me?”

Inhaling sharply, she nods. “Very much so.”

Unfortunately for them, someone else couldn’t sleep that night and they had seen just enough for a terrible plan to be born.

=================================

A/N - So, I’m definitely going to play with the books here and twist some things to fit the storyline I have in mind. There might be some spoilers, so read with caution. I debated on making more than a one shot for this and taking on some ideas I have for Darkling but also Nikolai, so I’m not sure how long this will be just yet. 

Tags: @deceivedeer​ @evyiione​ @measshaw​

Part 3

[luminouspoes]

safe in the morning light

pairing: poe x gen!reader

summary: reader wakes up first in the morning and decides to wake poe up nicely

word count: 2k+

warning: n/a just soft kisses and fluff

You wake up first, which is unusual. Typically, Poe is the first one up: he’s a light sleeper, quick to alertness from years of being a pilot. Typically, by the time the D’Qar sun is fully up in the sky, Poe has already finished most of his morning routine of having caf, checking the messages on the console across from his bed, and reviewing logs from the various squadrons under his command.

Instead, you’re delighted to find he’s still in bed next to you. It’s still early, so you decide to take the time to appreciate the quiet peace in your home. You shift closer to Poe, smoothing the duvet down as it twists around you at your movement. It strikes you how peaceful he looks: the tension in his face is smoothed out for once, and your eyes roam over his handsome face, trying to commit to memory what he looks like now. 

The war is still a phantom on the horizon, haunting everyone on the base. There’s no doubt in anyone’s minds that war will eventually, finally break out, but it’s only a matter of predicting when. It’s Poe’s defiance and kindness that led you to falling in love with him, but his urgent need to protect what his parents fought for, to stop the First Order from hurting anyone else the way it’s already hurt him, weighs him down in a way few seem to notice.

He hides it too well, for someone who can’t lie to save his life. Besides yourself, General Organa seems to be the only one to realize how much he pretends things are easy for him. He’s the one who offers encouragement and help to people, and you adore him for it. You just wish he’d realize that he deserves to have that, too.

You place your hand over his chest. There’s dozens of scars littered across it, each with their own story. By now, you’re familiar with each story, each scar, and you’ve loved them gently with both your fingertips and lips more times than you can count. 

As much as you’d love to let him sleep in, to keep that relaxed expression on his face, you also know it’s only a matter of time before a message beeps on the console that will wake him, or someone will turn up at your door needing something, and you’d rather he wake up to something sweet than a rude interruption. 

You lean forward, pausing for a fraction of a second to appreciate how his eyelashes brush the tips of his cheekbones with his eyes closed. You press a kiss to his forehead (usually, when you did this, it would be to smooth out the worry lines there), then move to press one to the tip of his nose. You continue to map out the planes of his face, from his cheek bones, to the side of his temple, the corner of his mouth.

Although he keeps his eyes close, you feel him stir slightly underneath you. He’s pretending to be asleep, so with a grin, you decide to up the ante so to speak. You throw a leg over his hip so straddle him before closing the distance again, smiling against his skin as you kiss along his jawline. You can feel his hand twitching at his side, wanting to hold you, but he seems determined to make this last as long as he can.

He can try to keep up the ruse for as long as he wants, but there’s no denying the slight flush to his cheeks, and the fast thrum of his heart underneath your palm. You slide your lips down from his jawline, down to the crook of his neck and - 

Get exactly the reaction you were seeking.

Poe yelps, his eyes flying open as he squirms away from your mouth, shoulders tucking up around his chin as a burst of laughter falls from your lips. He glares up at you without any venom, “That’s playing dirty.” 

“Is it?” You ask, a mischievous glint lighting up your eyes. 

Poe’s eyes widen slightly in alarm as you move back in, a firm “no, wait -” falling from his lips and quickly turning into another round of bright, brilliant laughter as you ghost your nose along the side of his neck, featherlight. He writhes beneath you, trying to move away, as his laughter continues to rumble through his chest against your own. 

He was terribly ticklish around his neck, something you’d been delighted to discover early on into your relationship (you’d been tucked away in a supply closet, trying to catch a moment to yourselves to catch up on your day, when you’d leaned in to kiss down his neck, and promptly found out how sensitive he was there). You twist your head to look at him as you continue to nuzzle your nose against him, drawing light circles to keep him laughing. Your heart seizes with something indefinable as his face scrunches up with mirth, eyes crinkling softly with joy. 

He continues to wriggle underneath you and it’s not long before you’re both wrestling around, legs tangling together as he continues to try and evade your attacks. But you can’t help but chase after him, enjoying the way your quarters fill with the sound of his hearty laugh as you roll around the mattress. 

Distracted as you are by how happy he looks, Poe takes your momentary slip up and uses it to his advantage, grabbing your wrists in one hand and effortlessly flipping you under him with one smooth movement. You bounce slightly against the mattress as he comes to hover over you, balancing on one arm. Your breath stalls in your chest from how easily he pinned you underneath him - it’s easy to forget how strong he actually is - and the way his eyes darken as he takes in the sight of you. 

Poe leans down, his nose nuzzling against yours for a second, before he tilts his head for better access to your mouth. You close your eyes, heart racing in anticipation - 

And then he ghosts his fingertips over the rolls on your waist, wiggling his fingers like spider legs, and you nearly fly off the mattress, his name falling from your lips in an affronted squeal, and you’re quickly losing your breath for a very different reason than the moment before, as he continues to tickle your side, eager to draw out as much laughter from you as you had him. He’s practically glowing as he tells you with a self-satisfied smile, “Two can play at this game, sweetheart.”

As you continue to squirm and giggle beneath him, the automatic light sconces in his room slowly activate, leaving the room in a golden glow that’s indicative of the sunrise happening outside. It only makes this moment seem even more like a slice of heaven, your shared delight spanning simultaneously an eternity and only a few minutes. 

Finally, Poe concedes, opting instead to splay his hand on your waist, fingers tucking around the fabric of your shirt (one of his shirts, actually) so you can catch your breath. His and your chests rise and fall rapidly with pants, but neither of you have lost your somewhat manic grins.

“Morning flyboy.” You run your hand down his chest again, ghosting along the scars there. Poe’s eyes slip shut at your gentle touch: it never fails to make his chest tight with emotion, the way you always touch and hold him like he’s something precious. He isn’t sure what he’s done in his life to deserve someone as incredible and loving as you, but he’s glad he has you.

When he’s able to open his eyes again, he pokes your chest lightly, teasingly with his index finger, “Was tickling me really necessary?”

You roll your lips as you mull over his question, shifting beneath him slightly. Judging from the expression on his face, he’s expecting you to make a joke, but your mind is still too groggy from sleep to come up with one, so you opt for the truth instead. “To hear that beautiful laugh? Absolutely.”

He leans back slightly, his gaze softening from your words. Then he grins, a brilliant lopsided one that makes your heart glow, and he’s shifting your body closer to his so your legs tangle together again.  “Could say the same about yours,” he tells you as you slide your hand back up his chest to snake around the back of his neck. Your palm brushes against the cold chain of his necklace as you move your hand into his curls, scraping lightly at his scalp with your fingernails. 

Poe’s gaze grows heated as he searches your face. In a rough voice that has nothing to do with the fact that he just woke up and everything to do with how you’re holding him, he asks, “Can I kiss you?”

You respond by burrowing your fingers further into his curls to pull his face down to your own, his mouth crashing against yours. His hand skims down to your hip, drawing you up so your bodies are flush together. The warmth of his bare chest seeps through the thin fabric of your shirt, as his other hand moves from propping him up to ghost down the side of your head, coming to a rest at your neck, his fingers spreading out so that they brush against the edges of your jawline as he pulls your top lip into his mouth, drawing out a low hum from the back of your throat. 

While you tug at his curls with one hand, you let the other wander down the expanse of his back. His muscles move beneath your palm as he pushes against you, but you’re delighted to find that his body is relaxed under your touch, and holds none of the tension you’ve unfortunately come to be so familiar with. Your hand ends its journey at the small of his back, as he deepens the kiss and cradles your jaw reverently. 

“You know,” Poe muses against your lips, rubbing his nose against yours, “I’ve forgotten something very important.”

Still caught up in the bliss of the moment and the feeling of his lips and body moving against yours, it takes a second for you to register what he’s said, let alone reply. “Yeah? What’s that?” 

Poe grins, his eyes sparkling as he presses your foreheads together, “Forgot to tell you I love you.”

“You didn’t have to, you showed me.” You tell him before you crack a yawn. Poe hums in acknowledgement, then rolls onto his back, pulling you with him so you’re on top of his chest. “What are you doing?” you ask him as he shifts on his pillows, quite obviously getting ready to go back to sleep, especially since he closes his eyes. “We have to get up.”

“You’re tired,” Poe answers, like that’s going to change the fact that you both probably have very busy schedules ahead of you. His arms snake around you, holding you closely but not tightly - just firm enough that you feel safe and content. He peers open one eye at you, his lips twitching up into a smile, “and we actually have the morning off.”

“What?” 

“Yeah, no drills today. There’s supposed to be a storm.” Poe grins up at you. “I was up first by, like, three hours.” He swipes his thumb across your cheek. “Cancelled all the drills on account of the weather, crawled back into bed with you. I was planning on letting you sleep in, I know how you feel about storms so -”

You cut him off by pressing your lips to his in a sweet, languid kiss, your lips sliding against his. Every little thing he does only endears him more to you: this ridiculous, sweet, considerate, rebellious, dashing man is everything you’re fighting for, and you hope he knows it.

When you pull back to find him staring moonstruck at you, you think he might feel the same. “What was that for?” he asks. 

“Because I love you too,” you tell him and he brightens. You relax in his arms, pressing your cheek to his chest as he tucks his chin over the crown of your head. Sleep tugs at your bones, warm and content, and it’s not long before you’re both dozing off again, the sound of rain echoing lightly through the base as the storm begins outside.

[thenovelartist]

ABC Fluff Headcanons - Luke Pearce - Tears of Themis

A = Admiration (what do they absolutely adore about you?)

You may be the Watson to his Sherlock, but he knows you’re not a follower by nature. You stand firmly on your own two feet. And though it may scare him at times, particularly when your safety is on the line, he can’t deny the pride he feels watching you go above and beyond in all you do, especially when it involves others. That selflessness paired with your determination is what he truly admires about you, and he hopes that you’ll never change, no matter what trials you face.

B = Body (what is their favorite part of your body?)

Your smile. Because if you’re smiling, he knows everything’s going to be okay. He also knows when that smile is forced and when it’s faltering, prompting him to take action of his own to protect or hold you. It’s a tell-all for him, and that brings him comfort.

C = Cuddling (how do they like to cuddle?)

In any way he can. He loves holding you. However, he likes it best when you’re chest-to-chest with his arms around you holding you close, no matter if it’s a long hug, lounging on the couch, or snuggling in bed. It’s a versatile position, allowing for you to either meet each other’s gaze while still having close physical contact or for hiding your expressions, such as you snuggling against his chest or him resting his chin on top of your head. It fits for every scenario.

D = Dates (what does their ideal date with you look like?)

Ideal date? Well… a date… with you. He’s not picky. However, he definitely leans towards the more casual settings. Things where you two can be relaxed around each other, chatting and bantering all the way. Whether that’s strolling around town or a camping adventure or even relaxing at home with a familiar movie you’re not really watching in the background is up to you, but he’s down for any and all of them.

E = Emotions (how do they express emotion around you?)

He’s… well, not quite an open book but rather a book you have to open. He frequently puts on a happy face, so sometimes, you have to break past that. Once you do, he’s not ashamed of being open and honest about his feelings. He wants first and foremost for everything to be okay and for you to be happy, but if you’re shutting that down and calling his bluff, he’ll surrender and be open to having heart-to-hearts so as to get on the same page as you.

F = Family (do they want one? If they do, when?)

Yes… and no.

No, he doesn’t want a family because the lingering fear and guilt of leaving them behind would weigh heavily on his soul. But, if he was being honest with himself and the fear of his life being cut short wasn’t hanging over his head, his answer would be “how many kids are you willing to give him?” None? Okay, he gets you to himself. Five? Fantastic, he’d love a busy house. Adopt? He’s already got all the forms downloaded. Mix of both? Perfect. Family is what you make it, and he’s more than happy to make one with you, no matter what form that takes.

G = Gifts (how do they feel about gift giving? What are their habits when it comes to this?)

He loves things from you and accepts them all as a treasure. But he places the most value in things that are made. A solid ninety percent of the gifts he gives you are ones he made himself. He doesn’t see the value in giving gifts just to give them; they should either mean something or bring some sort of use to you. To him, gifts mean the most when time and effort was poured into it.

H = Holding Hands (when/how do they like to hold hands?)

All. The. Time. He wants contact with you, and hand holding can be both perfectly innocent and sweetly intimate. And little squeezes here and there can communicate without words. He loves it.

I = Injury (how would they act if you got hurt?)

Instantly blames himself. He’s there to protect you, and if you get hurt, that means he failed miserably, so you’ll likely have to coax him out of his self-abusive state. Doesn’t matter if it’s anything from a papercut to a large accident, he’ll think it’s his fault, and he will be by your side as much as humanly possible during your recovery. And if it has something to do with NXX? I pity the person who caused you harm. He’d devote far too much time and resources to hunting them down as quickly as humanly possible and making their life a living hell.

J = Jokes (do they like to joke around with or prank you? how?)

You’re childhood friends. There’s plenty of teasing and inside jokes to go around. It might just be impossible for you to go a single day without one inside joke or playful reference to the past being pulled up.

K = Kisses (how do they like to kiss you?)

Luke’s kisses come in one of two varieties: Reverent and Passionate. Reverent kisses cover most kisses, consisting of everything from good morning to good night to general pecks on the forehead, cheek, nose, you name it. The ability and privilege to kiss you means a lot to him, so no kiss is ever taken for granted. Passionate kisses, on the other hand, are less about the way he pulls you close or presses his lips against yours and more about him emotionally baring his soul in those moments. However tangled or feverish that kiss ends up being is only a byproduct of him wanting to express just how much he genuinely adores you.

L = Love Confession (how do they confess?)

You will have to drag it out of this man. Not so much the confession but the confidence to admit he wants to be with you, in sickness and in health, for as much time as he has left. So really, it’s far more likely that you confess first and he’ll admit he feels the same while telling you all the reasons you can’t be in a relationship. Only once you get over that will he pour out all his secrets of how long he’s loved you and how deeply he loves you… And potentially propose right then and there.

M = Marriage (What does the wedding look like?)

He could elope with you and be perfectly happy. And honestly… he might be the happiest with that. If you wanted an actual wedding, he really would have no problem letting you have what you wanted, but the beauty of an elopement is that it can be done sooner rather than later, and he thinks he’s running on borrowed time. If he’s gonna marry you, he’d want to do that, like… yesterday. So if you’re up for an elopement, you basically have twenty-four hours to find a dress because he’s gonna take you down to the courthouse ASAP.

N = Nightmare (what is their worst fear?)

That he’s going to die soon and leave you behind. The biggest stressor for him is letting you get more attached to him because then his death will be even harder on you. And then what if you end up getting very close to him and marrying him like he wanted, only for him to leave you a widow at a young age? Or worst of all, what if he leaves you a single mom? He already hates the thought of leaving you, but leaving his kids behind…

He tries really hard not to think too deeply on this but it feels like a waking nightmare he’s not going to wake from any time soon.

O = Oddity (what is one quirk they have?)

This man cannot go forty-eight hours without making at least one Sherlock Holmes reference. And he occasionally has the knack of saying them… at the worst time.

P = Pet Names (what do they like to call you?)

I don’t think he’d be into cutesy, couple pet names all the time. Instead, I feel like he’d probably use “Watson” or any other childhood nickname he had for you on the regular basis. “Baby” and “Sweetheart” are probably in use, too, but he would tend to save those for quiet or tender moments. And “love” is reserved for the private, more intimate moments.

Q = Quality Time (how do they like to spend time with you?)

In any way he can; you just have to be present. Quality time for Luke can be anything from you two sitting in the same room while doing different things to going on an adventure together to an intimate date night. As long as he’s with you, time is not wasted.

R = Romance (how do they show their love and affection?)

Yes, yes, there’s grand gestures, but his love is shown in the little things. It’s the way he always is looking out for you, like offering you a moment to sit if you’d been walking a while or water if it’s hot. It’s in the way he squeezes your hand in the middle of a conversation. It’s the way he texts you reminding you not to over work yourself before ending it with an XO. Every day to him is precious, and he’s not going to bother with large, elaborate gestures of love if he can smother you in little, affectionate ones all day every day.

S = Secrets (how open are they with you?)

He’s pretty open with you, but the few secrets he has? Those he keeps locked away in the deepest part of himself. He will not let on that he has those secrets unless you get an inkling of their existence and go fishing to pull those secrets out of him. Keep at it; he won’t last long because he’s weak for you.

And of course, there’s state secrets he literally can’t tell you, but that’s a different matter all together.

T = Time (how long did it take you to get together?)

Freaking years.

This boy has been in love with you forever and could have asked you out as early as high school, but he didn’t. Then you were apart for eight long years, and he could have started something up with you soon after you two reunited, but he didn’t.Instead, he plays the “beat myself up with regrets” game and wastes even moretime trying to logically distance himself from you before you eventually have to forcibly break him down. Only then does he cave. But the “beat himself up game”? Yeah, that never quits. Because eventually, he’ll beat himself up for wasting so much time to make a move.

You really have to help this boy out of those habits.

U = Upset (how do they act when you’re upset?)

Will do anything to make you smile again. If you’re sad, he’ll try to pick you up with either a smile and some light banter or a hug and soothing words. If your mad, he’ll try to redirect or release your anger in any way he can. If you’re mad at him, que the kicked puppy look as he practically falls to his knees and begs for forgiveness.

V = Vaunt (what are they proud of? Do they like to show you off?)

He will show off when he can, usually about his detective skills or ability to fix things, and he will look like a five-year-old boy trying to impress a girl on the playground while doing it. Be sure to praise him for those moments. You will be rewarded with a grinning blushy boy.

W = Warrior (how do they feel about you fighting? Would they fight for you, beside you, etc?)

No. No. No.

…

Until you put your foot down and insist you’re gonna be by his side in a fight no matter what. He literally cannot win against you. And he hates it.

However, he is 110% your warrior and will be until he draws his dying breath. Nothing is going to change that. So if he can fight first and keep you from fighting in the first place, then he’ll do that.

X = X-Ray (how well are they able to read you?)

Like a book. He’s known you waytoo long to not be able to. Even those eight years didn’t change you too much, and he was able to relearn everything that felt new to him fairly quickly.

Y = Yes (how would they propose to you?)

One of two ways. In scenario L, after the love confession, he would propose marriage in the heat of the moment. You’d probably already both be crying and a total wreck, but your hearts would already be out on the line, and he’d just take that moment to drop the bomb of “please be by my side for the rest of my life”.

OR if that didn’t happen, (or maybe it did BUT he didn’t consider it a proper proposal and wants a redo) the proposal would be nothing big or fancy. Rather, it’s in a quiet moment between the two of you, either hanging out at your place or his. He’s sure to get down on one knee, holding your hand reverently as he pours out his heart to you. You’ll be in tears and his eyes will probably be glassy too by the time you say yes. At which point, he’ll put the ring on your finger and then hug you tight. And probably not let you go until absolutely necessary.

Z = Zen (what makes them feel calm?)

You.

No, really. You’re basically his world, so as long as he’s able to see you and know you’re okay, he’s okay. And if you want to settle him with sweet words and gentle touches, go right ahead.

You will also put him to sleep if you massage his head with your nails, so be sure to pet the Golden Retriever Puppy. Let him have a moment where he isn’t carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

[wardenannie]

A short NS*W drabble featuring desperate ‘I thought you were dead’ forest seggs ~

The forest is serene by night. Through the heavy, needled branches of the tall pines Hange Zoe can make out a smattering of stars peppering the inky black sky. It amazes her how peaceful the world seems when really everything is poised to fall apart. 

The moon speckles the forest floor with an eerie, whitish glow. Behind her the Captain rests, unconscious. That same glow illuminates the pallor of his ragged skin.

Hange never wants the sun to rise. She doesn’t want to lose that intrinsic sense of serenity that accompanies the chirping crickets and the hooting of owls. A whole ecosystem ignorant to the machinations of evil men. 

She bows her head forward, the emotional exhaustion of her plight weighing on her shoulders more heavily than ever. 

“We should just live here together, right, Levi?” She says to no one. A flush rises in her cheeks because, in a way, her words are a confession of something that they’ve been dancing around for years. But they always seem to flub the timing. 

“You know you can’t sit out of this fight,” Levi’s voice is rough behind her, weak and low. 

Hange startles, twisting her body to face him, her flush deepens, “L-Levi! You heard me just now, huh?” 

Levi only watches her, slate eye shining in the moonlight that peppers his bandaged visage. 

Hange’s breath catches, stunned that he can be so beautiful, even after being so thoroughly ravaged. Her heart soars in her chest, thundering into her throat which is tight to the point of pain. 

She leans forward over him, holding his gaze. The realization dawns on her that this might be their only chance, their final chance. Because Levi is right, she can’t simply run away when so many innocent lives are on the line. They could die come morning. Levi could have died that very day. 

Hip pressing into his shoulder, she traces a line along the unharmed side of his face. From his brow to his cheekbone the pad of her finger treks carefully over his skin. He’s warm, perhaps slightly feverish from his wounds. A sob wracks through Hange’s chest and Levi’s good eye goes wide at the sound. 

“Hange,” he reaches for her immediately, but she catches his hand in her own, teary eye roaming over the stumps of knuckles where two of his fingers had once been. 

It hurts. Just the thought that she could have lost him hurts so badly. 

“I thought you were dead,” she admits, remembering the weight of his limp body in her arms, fingers desperately searching for a heartbeat. “I thought you were gone, Levi. I thought I was all alone.”

The tears flow unbidden and she bows her head carefully into his chest to hide her face, “You know I love you, right?”

Levi’s body stiffens against hers, remaining fingers tensing her her hand. She’d finally said it, those three little, infernal words that have chased them like a shadow for four long years. She feels a little lighter for having said them, so she says them again. 

“I love you,” she raises her head, sniffing, tears beginning to stem. “I love you.” 

Adjusting to the newness of those words, Levi lifts his hand to cup her face. His visible cheek is flushed, eye watery though he sheds no tears. 

“I thought you were dead,” she repeats, voice ragged. Then Hange leans forward and lays a gentle kiss over Levi’‘s mouth through the bandages. The hand that had cupped her cheek moves to cup the back of her neck, fingers twining into her still damp hair. 

Hange kisses his cheek and his forehead, the lid of his good eye and the tip of his nose. She straddles him, body aching for him, for physical comfort, and she feels him hard under the blanket. 

They could both die come sunrise, she thinks. All they have is this moment, the present that transpires around them. 

To her surprise, Levi sits up, pushing the blanket off of himself and tugging Hange into his lap. Her fingers caress along the exposed musculature of his chest and shoulders. Her russet eye shines in the moonlight, swollen from her tears. 

She kisses him again, lingering as she carefully rolls her hips against his lap. They need this. They’ve wanted this for years; since Erwin died, before then even. From the moment she had first laid eyes upon him Hange had known he was special, now she will show him exactly what that means. 

“I love you,” she exhales against his bandages, fingers working on the fly of her pants. Levi helps her shuck the imposing garment, tossing it a few feet away. 

His hands caress over her hips, pulling her flush to his chest and into a tight embrace that lasts for a long while. Hange hiccups another sob into his shoulder, holding him right back. She can hear the thunder of his heartbeat in her ear, the most precious sound she has ever heard. 

“I thought I’d lost you,” She says, muffled into his skin. Fresh tears spatter against him, trailing down his shoulder. 

“You didn’t,” he reassures, voice soft, pained. “I’m here.” 

Hange pulls away just far enough to reach between their bodies and undo his fly. She fishes out his hard cock carefully, giving him a few testing strokes that earn her a soft groan. 

“I love you,” she says again, then she sinks down onto him in one smooth, steady movement. 

They both gasp, grasping at one another. Levi holds her flush to him, pressing their foreheads together so they breathe each other’s breath. They remain like that for a long while; Hange seated on him, hot around him, full to the brim of her beloved Captain, holding one another. 

Levi drops his head to the crook of her neck as she slowly begins to roll her hips. He nuzzles there, hands searching reverently over her body. 

They’ve both wanted this for a long time. Not-so-secretly longing for one another. They feel complete, whole. Two halves of a single, radiant thing which mounts between them with each roll of Hange’s hips. 

“I love you,” Hange says again, gripping him more tightly. Her clit grinds against his pubic bone, drawing a strangled whimper past her lips. Already her body is tightening around him, going taut as a bowstring. 

She never wants it to end, this sublime thing which unfolds between them. She never wants to let him go, never wants to leave this forest. They’re safe here, together, hidden away where no one can ever find them, where no one can ever hurt them. She loves him. Hange Zoe loves Levi Ackerman and it hurts in the most pristine way. 

It’s never been more clear than now, in this moment, as they make love like they won’t see the sunrise. 

“Hange,” Levi whispers her name like a prayer, breath coming out in uneven pants as he began to swell inside of her with his own impending climax. 

He pulls back to hold her gaze, his good eye meeting hers. A tear treks over his cheek, she she leans forward and kisses it away. 

“I love you, too,” Levi breathes just before grunting and spilling himself inside of her. 

The sensation of his heat pooling in her middle sends Hange over the edge as well. She hides her face in his shoulder as waves of pleasure roll through her, He loves her, too. That her feelings are not unrequited isn’t much of a surprise, but it is a blessed reassurance all the same. 

As they collapse back onto the blanket Hange settles into Levi’s side, lips repeatedly pressing against the side of his neck. She gathers the blankets around them, cuddling into him as his arm winds protectively around her. They deserve this. 

Hange feels full, happy and sated. Levi is alive. They love one another. And for the moment that is enough. 

[lovehotelreservation]

Mea Culpa

Summary: To apologize, to beg--simple actions that Emet-Selch simply could not bring himself to do.

But as he emerged in your room after things have soured between you both, he is willing to make amends.

In his own way at least.

Connected to “Late Night Visit”

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: DFAB!Reader/Emet-Selch

ME WORKING ON THIS COMMISSION WHILE FINISHING UP WITH 5.0 🙂🥺😭💔 GDI WHY AM I NOW A GOTHIC GILF F*CKER !!!!

THAT SAID MANY THANKS TO MY SWEET AND LOVELY COMMISSIONER FOR THE CHANCE TO EXPAND ON MY PREVIOUS PIECE!!! --------------

No matter how acclaimed and revered by countless souls across the realm, the Warrior of Light was just that.

A single warrior.

A single individual whose power, strength, and tenacity served to protect the weak and reprimand the wicked.

But from your eyes, you couldn’t have accomplished so much without the help of your friends: The Scions, House Fortemps, and countless others. The time you spent with them, whether during the heat of a dire battle or a merry night of feast and camaraderie, was something you held so dearly to your heart.

Still, as much as you enjoyed the company of your friends, it was the still calm of your empty room after a busy day that soothed your weary soul like nothing else.

And as the weariness from journeying back from Yx'Maja to your suite in The Pendants, more than ever were you relieved to be alone.

Especially for reasons that you were much too annoyed to begin recounting.

Sighing, you were in the midst of undoing your armor, but the fatigue from today made even attempting to undo the binding components an even bigger drain.

“Need some help?”

You froze.

And then your teeth grit from irritation as your eyes shifted away from the mirror of your suite’s vanity upon turning around.

The reason for your weariness was standing right in front of you.

Arms folded behind his back, lips curled into a smirk, eyes glinted with amusement, Emet-Selch made his presence known as he emerged out from the shadowy portal that was conjured into your room.

There were plenty of reasons as to why this mere action immediately drew your ire.

From the past week alone, it was already a journey through hell as you traversed through Yx'Maja and fended off sin eaters while providing assistance to the Viis of Fanow with your fellow Scions. However, with the unwelcomingly present Emet-Selch insisting on commenting on every move you made and every word you said with the most smug grin on his face pushed you far beyond your patience.

On the other end, Emet-Selch had just emerged into your room.

As he had done all those many nights before that resulted in the two of you being tangled together upon your bed.

He was your enemy.

And yet you allowed him to linger between your thighs nonetheless.

It was something that you were far from ready to reveal in the slightest to the rest of your companions. Any hint of the ongoing tryst you had with him was to be kept absolutely hushed, which he was well aware of.

But Emet-Selch treaded that boundary all throughout your time at Yx’Maja in front of the rest of the Scions. By your honed reflexes from all the time spent training under Widargelt, you were glad to stop his wandering hand from squeezing your behind while you awaited for Urianger and Y’shtola to finish decrypting some text chiseled on a temple wall, your fingers immediately seizing hold of his wrist while your eyes shot his pouting face an icy glare.

From that moment on, you chose to outright ignore him. Any quip was met with indifferent silence, your expression blank whenever he attempted to draw your attention.

And you were in no mood to change that now of all times as you promptly faced your vanity once again, your focus returning to removing your armor.

“Now, now, is that how you treat a guest who just arrived?” He hummed with the click of his tongue.

You did not respond, only focusing on trying to work on a stubborn tie with your armguards. Though, without needing to look back, you knew his expression had fallen to something of a pout.

“Mmm--onwards with the silent treatment then, I see.”

There was no desire for you to be the bigger person on your end. If cold you must be, then icy you would become.

At least, until you felt the unfortunately familiar warmth of Emet-Selch’s body press against you from behind.

“Pardon.”

The heat of his breath fell by your ear, the sudden sensation eliciting a shiver from your body as you felt his nimble fingers reach for the tie of your armguards, undoing it with absolute ease. As the sound of your armor fell to the floor with a clank, he continued with an amused hum, “The sight of a celebrated hero struggling with a mere strap irritates me to no end.”

Your instinct had your body moving to flip around to face him, but the arm that immediately slunk around your waist kept you in place.

At last, your silence was broken.

“If you think sliding up to me like this is gonna get you off the hook, you’ve got another thing coming!” You hissed as you craned your neck to glare at him while your fists balled at your sides.

“‘Off the hook?’ But whatever did I do wrong?” He hummed innocently, only to then sigh with feigned exasperation. “Do you think us Ascians to be so committed to the role of villain that you think we cannot tease and please at the same time? I don’t ever remember you being this callous, sweet hero.”

Your eyes rolled. “Again with your remembering?”

“Again with your forgetfulness?” He shot back, his tone taking on a surprisingly biting edge as his gaze narrowed ever slightly.

However, noticing your astonished expression, his features calmed, shifting from tension to teasing as he reached for your chin, his thumb stroking over your skin as he inspected your face. “Goodness, you really must be tired from your endeavors, huh, hero?” His head moved closer to yours as he hummed, “All that tension has you so fussy~ Let’s ease those shoulders, huh?”

Without another word, his lips planted right onto yours, kissing you fully while his other arm circled around you, his hold around your body complete.

Your instincts made you want to push back at him, to not allow yourself to concede so easily.

Yet, the expert probe of his tongue into your mouth combined with his roaming hands as he groped you freely to his heart’s content now that the two of you were alone was just so damn hard to resist. 

While the two of you had been plenty intimate up until this point, you barely knew much about him.

And yet, he knew your body like no one else.

When your mouths parted, the tension on your face had eased, your skin hot and flushed, your lips parted in a pant, all as your body continued to quiver from his hands fondling you all over.

Looking as pleased as could be, Emet-Selch chuckled wickedly as he admired your current state, “There we go--such a precious look on your face. Recollection can wait for another time--come hero, show me more of those lovely expressions of yours…!”

That cold expression you had earlier, that damned armor you were so focused on.

He saw to it that neither were in his way as he brought you over to your bed.

With your clothes soon joining his on the floor, your exposed body was for him to enjoy whole-heartedly. His lips dragged along your skin, circling over your nipples with soft suckles, kissing along your battle-toned torso, lavishing your clit with focused attention as his tongue lapped against your center.

The look on your face was far from icy at this point, now melted with pleasure as he continued his ministrations, furthered all the more once he was sheathing the full length of his cock inside of you.

Moments before, he claimed to help you relax, but the pace by which he was pounding away into your core was far from delicate, his hips pummeling you right into the mattress while his hands squeezed your breasts.

Mainly because he knew that an acclaimed warrior like you could take it.

Along with the fact that he had to make up for a week’s worth of lost intimate time between you both.

For as quiet as you had been around him, he dared not to kiss your lips, wanting your moans to leak out freely as he simply minded himself with marking up your neck as much as possible with kisses and bites--whatever would be hardest for you to try to hide or explain around your companions.

He would not have you silent around him.

Not when he still had yet to hear you refer to him by his true name.

Not as the Warrior of Light.

But as his beloved Azem.

[nyxdelanuit]

Desperate Pt 2 (Kenma x Reader)

Another birthday present for Jac Attack, my love! @fallingintoimagination This is a sequel to Desperate, please read before this! 

NSFW ahead~ Please enjoy c:

You awoke slowly, unconsciously burrowing into the hold of the arms surrounding you. Your stomach flipped, realizing that the best sleep you had gotten in years was within your best friend's grip. Could you even call him that, after ignoring him for so long just to jump into his bed? You removed yourself as gently as you could, trying to avoid waking Kenma as you searched the room for your clothes. A shower could wait until you were home, your clothes were already a mess anyways.  

 You thought you had gotten away, but as you moved to his door, the whisper of the sheets stopped you.

 “How long will you be gone this time?” Kenma had sat up in his bed, examining the sheets and blankets in favor of your face.

 “Kenma, I-”

 "I get it, I took it too far last night. Sorry about that." He finally looked up at you, a smile on his face, but the tears dripping down his face like rain gave you pause. "Just forget about what I said and come back soon, okay?" His voice was soft, trying to keep the tremor out.

You could feel the emotion bubbling in your throat as he spoke. What could you be so scared of when Kenma had put his feelings on the table twice, pushing them down every time you weren't accepting. Here he was, letting you know exactly how he felt about you, and taking whatever you could give him, and you couldn't even give him your honesty.

 You must have been lost in your thoughts, because before you could process it, Kenma was standing in front of you, dressed from the waist down. He didn’t bother wiping the tears dripping from his chin, instead focusing on the ones falling from your lashes.

 “Please don’t cry. Making you cry is the last thing I want to do.” His hands, shaking, wrapped around you. It was softer than before, giving you a means to escape if you wanted. You had considered it for a moment, but you felt your will sap away from you. You collapsed into his hold, not daring to wrap your arms around him. His hands cupped you to his chest and ran soothing circles on the nape of your neck.

 “We can’t go back, not anymore.” You fought through sobs to get those words out.

 “I’m sorry, please, don’t leave again.” His words were whispers against your neck.

 “I don’t think I can.” You choke on these words, the truth bitter on your tongue. Kenma pulled back to stare at you, the tears pausing their cascade. You resisted the urge to wipe them from his face, your fear still holding you back. “I love you.” The words fell from your lips like a death sentence, somber and painful.

 Kenma started crying again, the smile on his face sweeter than before. His hands slowly moved to your face, slow enough to stop him if you wanted. He approached even slower, barely grazing your lips in a ghost of a kiss, unlike any you’ve shared before. No lust barely hidden under the surface, no rush. You didn’t reciprocate, but you let him, until he’s laid the lightest of kisses all across your face.

 He pulled you to follow him, and you trailed behind him without complaint. He sat you on the edge of his bathtub, fussing with the faucet until the water started to fog over the mirror. His hands didn’t stray from you for long, moving with slow grace to divest you of your wrinkled clothes. You had been bare in front of him many times before, but not like this. You felt vulnerable, like he could see right through you.

 Kenma got in first, sitting against the back of the tub. His arm was held out to help you step in, and you sunk into the water willingly, hoping it'd hide some deep part of you that you weren't ready to see. Or maybe at least protect it from Kenma's gaze, who always seemed to see more than you.

 His hands ran warm circles across your back, urging you to relax. His touch feather-light as he tilted your head back, water cascading gently through your hair. He washed you with all the devotion of a worshipper at their altar, gentle and pious. You couldn't stop the tears at his touch, unused to touch without the flames of lust nipping at your heels. Even pressed against you like he is, he isn't even slightly rubbing against you. Wholly focused on helping you relax, to make you feel better without any reward for his action.

 He doesn’t even ask you to wash his hair or scrub his back after he’s finished with you, he simply lets you enjoy the way the water soothes your aching muscles as he quickly washes himself. Kenma doesn’t let you get out first, ignoring the puddles he made as he pulls towels from their places. He braces you with an arm as you step out, quickly covering your cooling skin with the fluffiest towel he owned.

 "Stay here." He whispers against your forehead, laying a chaste kiss to the center. You watch as he leaves, a towel draped around his waist. You took the time to towel off your hair, enjoying the sweet apple scent of Kenma's shampoo. Kenma comes back, dressed in baggy shorts and holding a bundle out towards you.

 It was a robe, simple and fluffy. You allowed Kenma to slip it over your shoulders, enjoying the soft fabric against your skin. "I got it… in case you came back." He turned his face from you, bashful… hopeful…

 He lead you by the hand back to his bed. New sheets, smelling of lavender and sunshine, were placed upon the bed. Kenma laid in the sheets, arms sprawled to his side as he waited for you to make a move. You would come to him willingly or not at all. He was ready either way. Still, you bend for Kenma in ways you never dreamed of for anyone else. You cautiously place yourself in his arms, letting him pull you closer. Kenma seemed content to drift off like this, but it was still too unnerving for you.

 You pulled yourself up to meet his eyes. For the first time that morning, you kissed him. “Kenma, please. I need you.” His eagerness shone in his eyes as he slipped his arms from you, moving to tower over you. A breath escaped you, relief that whatever this was would be moving in a direction you were familiar with.

 But Kenma kisses you, soft and sweet. None of the demanding insistence of last night to be found, just unfiltered, unbridled adoration dripped from his lips. Every mark he had laid on your skin was drowned in his affections. It was too much and not enough. You wanted, needed more of his passion and less of his love, for your heart's sake, but your desperate tugging at his faded locks did little to change his mind. The tug at your waist and the feeling of the air on your chest pulled a shiver from you that only worsened as you watched Kenma pull back. He looked at you then, really looked like he had never allowed himself to before. He drank you in with his eyes and his hands, reverent touches littering your body. His lips followed soon after, a saccharine trail flowing down your body. Every touch, every kiss, every lick driving you mad. It was unlike anything you had ever experienced, each touch not to drive you to the brink of pleasure but to convey every emotion he couldn't put into words.

 He reached the apex of your thighs, a contented sigh laid at your skin. Kenma licked at your seam, slow and savory. You tangled your fingers into his roots, urging, pleading him to do more, go harder, but he just lets you take out your frustrations on him. He parts your lips with careful fingers, dragging a single one through your slick before his tongue followed. He drags your pleasure out slowly, so slowly. Each caress just on the cusp of pleasurable, not the toe-curling roughness you were accustomed to. His fingers don't breach your heat until they easily slide in, no sting from the stretch. Kenma prepares you like you were porcelain, precious, and fragile, even though you want him to break you.

 He finally relented, removing himself from you entirely to slip up your body. He kissed you like you were the only air he could breathe, all-encompassing to the point where your head spun. Ever so gently, he pushed his length into you, laving your neck with messy kisses. All you could do was writhe against him, feeling every inch as he sunk into you. Kenma paused the base of his length finally met the swell of your sex and breathed in your gasps as he let you adjust. Kenma's pace was slow, dragging against every inch of you before plunging back in. He kissed the crystalline drops as they fell from your lashes, muttering his love against your skin with each thrust.

 Your hands tangled in his hair and dug into his back, grounding yourself in any way you could. Kenma let out a breath, content that you were finally holding on to him in any way, and his hands snaked underneath your writhing form to hold onto your shoulder and hip. With his hold on you, he was able to plunge even deeper, holding you chest-to-chest.

 “I love you, I love you so much, please don’t leave me again.” He panted into your skin between kisses, repeating his mantra as the coil in your stomach wound tighter and tighter, agonizingly slow. Kenma didn’t speed up, didn’t move his hand to the bundle of nerves sure to push you over the edge. He simply let you feel him, feel the love he was pouring into you with each movement.

 "I'll tell you over and over again if it keeps you here. I'll show you as many times as it takes for you to believe." His devout kisses fell to the hollow of your throat, groaning as he tried to hold himself back. Something about that moment, as you watched Kenma pull his lip between his teeth as he gazed into your eyes, holding back everything for you, broke you. You pulled his head to yours, relinquishing the feelings you held back to spill from your mouth into his. You keened into his kiss as the crest of your pleasure broke from within you, drenching Kenma's length. Kenma kept pace, working you through your peak softly, to enjoy it without any bite. Even then, he didn't chase his pleasure.

 Your fear dissipated once you looked at him, really looked. All he wanted was to give his all to you, but only if you wanted it. His eyes spoke volumes, not once straying from your face. Just like they had all this time, as you went searching for love in stranger’s bed, he only looked at you. There was nothing left for you to fear.

 You tangled your fingers in Kenma’s hair, gentle this time. You ran your fingers along his scalp, softly pulling him in.

 "I love you, Kenma." No bargains this time, no desperate pleading. With those words lingering in his ear, he finally gave in. You could feel everything as he twitched within you, falling apart under your caress. A lightness you hadn't expected appeared in your chest and only intensified as Kenma rushed to clean you up.

 You found yourself tucked into Kenma’s hold again, letting the warmth consume you this time. He was still whispering his thanks into your hair as his thumbs rubbed calming circles to any skin he could reach. Sleep fell heavily on the two of you, emotional exhaustion taking its toll. This time, you wouldn’t mind waking up tangled with him.

  “Kenma, get up, you’re late… You can’t keep moping in here forever.” Kuroo let himself in with a sigh, stopping as his eyes reached the bed. Kenma’s eyes cracked open just enough to recognize Kuroo, and he quickly shifted his arms to hide you from Kuroo’s sight. Kenma glared over your shoulder, trying to keep you deep in your sleep.

 Kuroo put his hands up in surrender, turning to leave the room. “It’s about time, you lovesick fools.” He chuckled, shutting the door behind him.

[gureishi]

Ohhhh, requests? Requests!!!! ❤️

We all know and love SE and the Choi family (Mc, Saeyoung and Saeran living together in the bunker).... But what about. Other way arround?

Saeran after ending, with saeran and saeyoung making amends, and you finally befriending and getting to know the true person behind 707.

Im happy with whatever ideas you have for this, but if you need more guidance... A scene between saeyoung and Mc, talking? Saeyoung thanking mcfor making saeran happy and feeling like he failed as a brother for not protecting him, and mc being all sweet as she is reassuring him that it's OK and that they are happy now and just fluffy??????

Gosh, I wrote a lot, sorry.

Oh wow. I ADORE this request. Thank you for bringing me this sweet idea. ♡

I love envisioning their lives together post-AE, and it was so much for fun me to imagine this tiny little slice of that. 

after

Saeyoung & Reader (platonic); Saeran X Reader (background), G, words: 2355

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

Today there’s one of those early-winter snows where the flurries get stuck in your hair but the ground’s not white and beautiful, just cold and damp. The parking lot is nearly empty—apparently no one else wanted to go out today. Personally, you can’t understand why. You love the way the sky’s a bright white and how the biting wind makes the tips of your ears pink.

Saeyoung, who’s been walking a few paces ahead of you, turns around in time to see you stop and catch a snowflake on your tongue. He raises his eyebrows; he’s got his hood up and there’s a light dusting of snow on top of his head, like powdered sugar.

“I was gonna ask if you regretted coming along now that it’s snowing, but I guess I have my answer.” He’s got a complicated look on his face, like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to laugh at you or not.

“I have no regrets!” you sing, and then he does laugh, shaking his head indulgently.

“Come on,” he says. “Your shoes are getting wet.”

“Your shoes are getting wet. Also your head. Who goes to the store in just a hoodie in the winter?” But you run to catch up with him, splashing in the little puddles that have collected in the uneven pavement.

“It was the hoodie or the floor-length pink fur coat, so I went for the hoodie,” he says, and you can’t tell if he’s joking or not. 

The automatic doors slide open for you; he grabs a shopping cart from the assortment parked just inside the door. You walk beside him, feeling a little awkward. Grocery store etiquette, you think, is such a personal thing. Saeran, for instance, likes to go slowly through the store, lingering in each area—looking for inspiration, sometimes checking recipes on his phone. You like to move through the store at random, picking out items that strike your fancy. These methods work surprisingly well together—perhaps because Saeran finds it charming when you come running up to him with a strange new fruit in your arms.

Saeyoung, it seems, has neither a list nor a plan. He pushes the shopping cart lazily with one hand, heading vaguely toward the nearest aisle. You’re tempted to guide him in one direction or another, but you also don’t want to be a nuisance. This is his shopping trip—he was the one who announced he was going to the store; you were the one who’d insisted on tagging along.

“Are you sure?” he’d asked then, hesitating, one hand already on the doorknob. “You don’t need to! I can get whatever you—”

“I want to,” you’d said firmly, jumping off the couch where you’d been lying with your feet in Saeran’s lap, reading a book. It wasn’t that you needed anything in particular from the grocery store or that you didn’t trust Saeyoung to find whatever was needed for the house (though, in retrospect, it wasn’t that you did trust him, either). It was just…

In the few precious days that you’d been living in the bunker with the brothers—in a world that was suddenly so peaceful you couldn’t quite believe it—you’d begun to realize something: in spite of the hours of phone conversations and chats you’d shared with the enigmatic and charming 707, you actually hardly knew Saeyoung at all.

“So, uhhh,” he begins, a bit uncomfortably. You glance at him askance; his cheeks are pink. “What do we need, anyway?”

You laugh—you can’t help it. “What were you going to buy if I didn’t come with you?”

Saeyoung shrugs, looking down. He’s definitely blushing. “I was gonna…wing it.”

Maybe it’s his inexplicable shyness with you and maybe it’s your genuine love of grocery shopping, but your confidence is bolstered. You take the cart from him and he relinquishes it gratefully, falling into step behind you.

“First we’re going to get produce,” you tell him, and he nods eagerly, bouncing on his heels. He honestly looks excited that you’ve taken the lead; you make a mental note about this. At home, Saeyoung is often in charge—of little things, like what movie you’ll all watch together—because he is boisterously enthusiastic about everything and you and Saeran are more subdued. But here, without his twin, outside of his domain, he is suddenly much less confident.

You select a few types of squash; he watches somewhat reverently. “How do you know what to get?” he asks in a quiet voice.

“Practice, I guess,” you say. “I have in mind a couple of recipes we can make this week, and there are some staples it’s always good to have…” You pause, realizing something, your hands full of squash. “Saeyoung, can I ask you something?”

“What? Yeah!” He responds a little too readily and you know he’s trying to mask his awkwardness. It’s endearing.

“You lived alone for a pretty long time,” you say thoughtfully. You survey the selection of cabbage. “Didn’t you…buy food? To eat?”

He laughs, runs a hand through his already-messy red curls. “God Seven doesn’t need food to live!” he sings, and it’s in the tone of the 707 you’d developed a strange friendship with during those days you were at Mint Eye. You know now that Saeyoung was there, even then, under all that false positivity and diversionary teasing.

“You do, though,” you tell him. You hand him a head of cabbage.

Your firm tone seems to quell him. He looks down at the cabbage. 

“I ate snacks, mostly,” he says, a little more quietly. “Sometimes Vanderwood got frustrated and brought me other things to eat.”

You turn away to hide the look in your eyes from him. These poor, poor boys.

“You two!” you explain in mock-frustration, pushing the cart to the next refrigerated shelf. “So you were living on junk food while he was keeping himself alive with caffeine pills. What am I going to do with you?”

Saeyoung bounces behind you, still holding the cabbage.

“Feed us!” he says. You roll your eyes and tear a plastic bag off the role beside the shelves. 

“Put the cabbage in the bag,” you tell him. He does.

You gather a few more fruits and vegetables and Saeyoung asks about all of them; you’re amused when he doesn’t know what a persimmon is.

“So besides chips and stuff, then, what do you like to eat?” you ask him, pushing the cart into the large, open area where meat and fish sit on ice, row after chilly row.

Saeyoung hums thoughtfully, peering at a particularly large fish, complete with eyeballs and everything. “This is creepy,” he says. “Can we get it?”

“We…can,” you say. “But that doesn’t really answer my question.”

He walks a little ahead of you, and he looks at each different type of meat with such curiosity. They’re both like this, you think—so full of wonder over basic, mundane things. Saeran was in awe the first night the three of you settled in on Saeyoung’s huge couch to watch TV together. And now here is Saeyoung—who’s had considerably more freedom than his brother—staring at an assortment of different cuts of meat like he’s in a museum.

“I’m not sure,” he says finally, tilting his head to the side. “I love chips, and, you know, fish-shaped buns…”

“But is there a meal you like? Maybe from, I don’t know, the past…?” You regret the words as soon as they’re out of your mouth.

Saeyoung laughs bitterly. “Not from childhood, if that’s what you mean.”

“Right,” you say. “Yeah. I knew that. I’m sorry.”

He comes back to your side, leans on the cart. “It’s okay,” he tells you. “I don’t mind.”

“Still,” you say. “Sorry.” You steer the cart toward a display of different chicken parts and he pads along beside you—like an obedient dog, you think.

“What’s the difference between…” he bends over, peering at the packages. “Breasts and thighs?”

You giggle. “You tell me.”

You watch as his face turns red, clashing wonderfully with his hair.

“Um, l-let’s get the…thighs, I guess,” he chokes, and you stifle your laughter with your hand.

“Thighs it is.”

He throws the chicken into the cart with his face turned away and you grin. 707 was a tease, but it is easy to fluster Saeyoung. 

You move through the aisle of bottled sauces in companionable silence. You hold up a bottle of bottle of soy sauce and he nods enthusiastically; he does the same for the fish sauce and corn syrup. To test him, you hold up a banana ketchup—which you’ve personally never actually tried—and he gives you the same affirmative head bob.

“Saeyoung, do you know what this is?”

He tilts his head to the side, reads the label.

“Banana ketchup? Yum!”

You sigh. “Fine.” You toss it in the cart; maneuver to the next aisle.

“You didn’t even have soy sauce or salt or anything in your house when we moved in,” you say. “There was literally nothing in the cabinets.”

He strolls along beside you, running a finger along the rows of different kinds of pasta. “It never occurred to me.”

“We were kind of surprised,” you add, tossing a big bag of rice into the cart. “We bought a bunch of stuff, before we…left.” You stumble over the words; gears spin frantically in your brain. The words hang heavily in the air between you. Before we left to find you. Before we found you and then lost you again.

He’s silent for a moment and you know he feels the change in atmosphere, the way time seems to have slowed down.

“Hey,” he says finally. He’s got one arm draped over the side of the cart and his posture is a little stiff. “Did I ever thank you? I mean, properly.”

You bite your lip, keep walking. Your face feels hot. Suddenly, you’re not really looking at what’s on the shelves.

“You did,” you say softly. “But I feel I should be the one thanking you. You’re the reason we’re both alive, you know.”

Saeyoung stops, and you almost crash into him. He spins around, and he’s got a hard, determined look in his face. You’ve seen that look before. 

“No,” he says. “Nuh-uh. You saved us. You protected him. You did what I didn’t…couldn’t—”

Ah. Your heart’s pounding against your ribcage. Of course it’s here, you think—in this narrow aisle, next to hundreds of loaves of bread, that he’s saying this to you.

“Saeyoung, he knows that you would die for him. You tried to.”

He stuffs his hands in his pockets, walks away from you, lingers at the end of the aisle. The change in him is remarkable. There’s no hint of the awestruck boy, bouncing up and down over the wide selection of steaks, in this morose, bitter man.

“I didn’t succeed, did I?” he says. A mother with a small child seated in the front of her shopping cart comes down the aisle and you back up into the shelves to let them pass. You wonder if they can feel how thick the air is.

“No, you didn’t,” you say. “And thank god, because where would we be if you had?” He finally looks at you then, and you’re taken aback by the wild look in his eyes. It scares you; you take a step toward him. “You fought for him,” you tell him. “And he fought for you.”

His fingers drum a frantic pattern on the metal shelf beside him. He’s got the look of a cornered animal, ready to bolt. You’ve seen this expression before—though on a different Choi brother.

“I was supposed to protect him,” he says, so quietly you can hardly hear him. You take one more step. Another. Finally you’re at his side, and he flinches, but he doesn’t run away.

“You did,” you say. “And he’s safe. All of us are safe.”

He doesn’t say anything.

“We’re going to buy this stuff,” you tell him. “We’re gonna pay for it, and get in the car, and go back home, and he’ll be there. Waiting for you.”

Saeyoung shuts his eyes and takes a long, slow breath. You do it with him. He runs a shaky hand through his hair again and you give him a little nudge with your elbow. Eyes still closed, one side of his mouth twitches upward—a half-smile.

“Sorry,” he mutters. “I didn’t mean to…”

“I know.”

“I just feel like I owe you…”

“Me too.”

His eyes open; they’re clearer, bright and gold behind his glasses. 

“You don’t owe me anything,” he says, and it sounds like a question.

“I love him,” you say. “So, I think I do.”

Saeyoung shakes his head; the color’s back in his cheeks now, and he grabs the cart, pushing it out of the aisle. You jog to catch up, grab onto the side just as he’d done earlier. Hold on tight.

“You love him a lot, don’t you?” he says. You can see him in your peripheral vision—his eyes are twinkling.

“More than anything in the world,” you reply.

“Me too,” he says, echoing you, and you grin. You picture the look on Saeran’s face if he could hear this conversation—the way his green eyes would soften, the way he’d get that adorable little dusting of pink over his cheeks. 

Saeyoung turns the cart abruptly, maneuvering into the next aisle with an expertise you didn’t expect—you shriek, barely holding on. He cackles.

“We need this!” he says, and you turn to see him pointing at an alarmingly large box of some sort of purple cookie you’ve never seen before.

We don’t, you almost say, but you hesitate, because what’s the harm? 

“Sure,” you say, and you toss them in the cart.

Saeyoung smiles. “I’m glad you’re here,” he says. You know he’s not talking about the stupid cookies.

You beam right back at him. “I am too.”

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

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@currentlyprocrastinating @thesirenwashere  @ultrasupernini @cro0kedme @otomefoxystar @dawn-skies06 @nad-zeta @hunterelys

[thebadgerclan]

SFW Alphabet: Remus Lupin

Requested by Anonymous

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?) Remus is very affectionate, part of it’s just his cuddly personality, part of it’s because Moony loves to show his mate that he loves her.  He shows his affection mostly through physical touch: holding your hand, having an arm around you, holding you in his lap on the couch, kissing your forehead, brushing his hand against yours in public.  He doesn’t shy away from PDA either, if he wants to kiss you, he’s gonna kiss you, not giving a shit who’s around.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?) Remus would be a very supportive friend, always there when you need to talk, a shoulder to cry on, an ear to listen, he’s there.  The friendship started after Lily introduced you to the Marauders, and while Remus was a little reluctant to let someone new into his life, when he sees that you don’t care or judge him for his lycanthropy, he latches onto you.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?) Remus loves to cuddle, after a long, stressful day, the only thing he wants to do is hold you or be held by you.  He’s the big spoon I’d say 95% of the time, it’s just more comfortable (David Thewlis is 6’3), he prefers holding you, and Moony likes to feel like he’s protecting his mate.  When he’s the big spoon, Remus either lays on his back with you tucked into his side, arm tight around you, hand carding through your hair, the other hand stroking your side or is on his side with you pressed against him, either facing him or with your back to his chest..  The other 5% of the time, when Remus is the little spoon, he likes to be on his side, face buried in your chest, arms folded against him and sort of sandwiched between the two of you.  He likes this because it makes him feel safa and makes Moony feel that his mate is near and will protect him

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?) Oh yeah, Remus wants to settle down with you.  With you, he has a partner that he can rely on, that he loves more than anything in the entire world.  Remys has lived alone for most of his life, so he knows how to keep a house clean and cook for himself.  When the two of you get a house or apartment together, you split the household chores evenly, but Remus does prefer to cook, it’s something he enjoys and he likes providing for you

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?) It would be because of his lycanthropy, he’d break up with you to keep you safe.  Remus would try and let you down gently, but of course, it shatters your heart when he breaks things off, but part of you understands why he wants to, even if you don’t agree with it.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?) He’s a little skittish about commitment, thinking you’ll leave him, be disgusted by his condition, but once he realizes that you’re not going to leave him, that you don’t care about his lycanthropy, Remus is so committed to you (he always has been, but he’s even more committed now).  He wants to get married to you as soon as he knows you’re truly committed, he goes out and gets a ring for you and proposes as soon as he knows you’re ready

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?) Remus is very gentle, both emotionally and physically.  Emotionally, he’s such a softie, he never hides what he’s feeling from you, if he’s sad, you know it, if he’s angry, you know it.  It takes him a while to be that open with you, but when he gets there, there are no secrets between the two of you.  Physically, Remus treats you like a piece of glass (and I mean that in a good way), he holds you so tenderly, like you’re something precious, to be treated with reverence and tenderness, which to Remus, you are. I think it goes without saying, but Remus will NEVER hurt you, never raise a hand to you, you’re his everything, he would never do that.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?) Remus loves hugs, he’s a very huggy person, not just with his S/O.  He hugs you very frequently, at least 5-6 times a day.  His hugs are warm and soft, wrapping you in his arms feels like safety, and you can feel the love pouring off him when he hugs you.  They last for up to 30 seconds at a time, and he kisses your forehead when he pulls away.

  I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?) I’d say Remus tells you he loves you after a month or so.  He’s known that he’s in love with you after a week, but he wants to be sure that you’re serious about the relationship.  And when he does tell you he loves you, you know he means it, you know he’s serious, and you know that he’s in love

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?) Moony drives his jealousness, he doesn’t like anyone getting too close to his mate, doesn’t like it when you’re too far from him, things like that.  Remus is level headed, he’s logical, so he knows that you’re not going to leave him, and he can control Moony to a certain extent, but he comes out sometimes.  When he does, Remus will snarl at whoever’s near you, snaking his arm around your waist and pulling you close.  He’ll kiss you: either on the lips, hard and passionate, or on your temple, and whisper “Mine.”

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?) Remus likes to kiss your forehead or the crown of your head, your cheeks, nose, hands, wrist, arms, legs, everywhere.  And of course, your lips.  Remus likes to be kissed on the lips, on his cheeks, and his scars.  He might cry when you kiss his scars, just wipe his tears away.  His kisses are tender and sweet, love pouring off him in waves.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?) Remus is really good with kids, he loves them, and he does want to be a father, but he’s hesitant because of his lycanthropy.  When he’s around babies, he melts, cooing at them and cradling them close to his chest

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?) Remus gets up around 9 o’clock, and if you’re still home/asleep when he gets up, he’ll make you a cup of coffee/tea/whatever you like, and he’ll sit with you, usually with an arm around you, on the couch.  He loves the mornings; the quiet time before you’re dressed and still a little sleepy where he can just be with you.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?) Remus likes to hold you in the evenings: having you on his lap, arms around you, he just wants to be close to you.  Nights and evenings are usually spent talking about your day, reading, or just being with each other.  (And of course, there’s a fair amount of sex too ;D)

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?) I wanna say that after a few weeks, Remus will slowly start opening up to you.  He doesn’t want to overwhelm you, and there are things he’s a little hesitant to tell you.  But he gets there, feeling secure enough to tell you everything.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?) He has a bit of a temper, but it takes a lot to really piss him off.  With you, he’s endlessly patient, very few things that you do make him mad.  With others, he’s still very patient, but he does snap sometimes, especially close to the full

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?) Remus remembers a lot, but he tends to forget some littler things.  But the bigger things, he remembers: like your favorite meals, favorite books, etc.  There are some little things that he’ll randomly remember, like the earrings you wore on a date

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?) After a particularly bad full, Remus had staggered into the house, and you were nowhere to be found.  He was sad, but he cleaned himself up as best he could.  A few minutes later, you returned, a bag on your arm.  “We were out of chocolate,” you explained, sitting on the floor where Remus was sitting and pulling a bar of chocolate from the bag.  “I convinced them to let me in, they weren’t happy, being woken up at 2 AM, but I got it.”  The fact that you went to Hogsmeade to get him chocolate overwhelmed him with love for you, and it made you love him even more

. S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?) Moony takes Remus’ existing protectiveness and increases it 10 fold.  Moony wants to protect you, his mate, more than anything in the world.  If anything could potentially hurt you, Remus is tense, watching everything around you to make sure you’re safe.  He’ll keep you close, an arm around you, your hand in his.  Above all, he needs to know you’re safe.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?) Remus can’t really afford to take you out as much as he wants to, but when he can, he goes all out.  It’s not a 5 star restaurant, but Remus makes you feel like royalty.  When he can’t afford to take you out, he’ll cook you a romantic dinner and serve it to you.  The same applies to gifts and anniversaries: he doesn’t have much money, but what he can afford, it’s the sentiment behind it that counts

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?) His self consciousness concerning his lycanthropy.  He thinks he’s dangerous, a monster, someone undeserving of love.  It takes you a while for you to break him of this habit, and he still slips and tells you you should leave him, but you’re (obviously) not having it

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?) Not really.  Like Sev, he keeps himself clean and tidy, but you love him for him, and in his mind, his scarred face is enough for you, so it’s enough for him W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?) Yes, absolutely,  once Remus felt how loved you made him feel, the thought of not having you in his life is unimaginable.  It causes him physical pain, and he can’t think about it for more than a minute at a time.  Luckily, you have no plans of leaving him (please don’t leave him)

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.) With the Wolfsbane potion, Remus can just curl up and sleep during the full, so one time, he was on top of you in bed, curled up in a ball, fast asleep.  Moony whined when you tried to get up, not getting off of you

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?) Remus can’t be with someone who won’t validate his feelings.  He knows he can be irrational sometimes, but if a partner just brushes his feelings off, he just feels worse.  He needs someone who can talk out his feelings and help him through the rough patches

  Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?) Remus will not be able to sleep if he doesn’t fluff his pillow.  It sounds funny, but if he doesn’t do it, he won’t be comfortable.  It’s mostly psychological, but he has to do it.

[crocworkships]

Reconnaissance Mission

(A/N: Part three to this and this little series. How is Illumi dealing with this weird Hunter woman? Not especially well! :D)

In the days after she snapped at him, Illumi found himself thinking more and more often of the strange Hunter that dared stand between himself and his dearest little brother. Her indignation and her stubborn drive to protect those children (even from things they needn’t be protected from, like their own family) stuck in his mind. It also bothered him that his Kill seemed to care for her as well.

He started keeping an eye on the Hunter once in awhile, in-between jobs. He told himself that he was simply watching over Kill at first, since she accompanied him and the other boy, Gon, fairly often, like a mother hen. Then he decided that he was watching the Hunter to figure out the opportune moment and way to get rid of her, so she would stop interfering with his family. Then, he simply watched her out of habit. She was so odd, in a completely different way than most other people he knew; she flipped constantly between maternal caring for the two young boys, to a sort of childlike giddiness whenever she talked to a friend (he observed that she spent a lot of time in a retired Hunter’s curio shop) about recent acquisitions as a Hunter, to that same pique she had showed him when she felt one of her own was threatened – though he also observed that this happened relatively infrequently.

Illumi was unaware how much he had been thinking of this Hunter, trying to establish a pattern in her behaviour and discover her combative prowess, until Hisoka brought it up to him, to his slight embarrassment.

“You look troubled, my friend. Thinking about that girl again?” Illumi could hear the smirk in the magician’s voice without needing to look.

“Why do you think that?”

“Because I’ve seen how much you watch her. If I didn’t know better, I’d almost think you were smitten,” Hisoka said, leaning in too close to Illumi’s face. He did things like this often, and Illumi immediately schooled his expression into one of smooth indifference perfected after years of practice.

“I need to know how to cleanly get rid of her. She is interfering with Zoldyck family business, but I don’t want my brother to be too upset when she disappears.” He said quietly, calmly. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Hisoka, but he knew his companion was always looking for cracks in everyone’s armor. This woman would not be one in his.

“I’m surprised you haven’t taken her out already,” Hisoka purred, “she isn’t a very experienced fighter. You could take her out easily. She can barely keep her aura under control with the intensity of her emotions.” His voice was right in Illumi’s ear, like a snake. Illumi finally deigned to look at Hisoka, turning his eyes, but not his head. He wasn’t sure what to say here; a part of him balked at the idea of killing the Hunter-woman, but he couldn’t articulate why.

“I know what I’m doing, Hisoka,” Illumi said, unsure if he were assuring the magician or himself, “don’t worry about it.”

Hisoka shrugged playfully, backing off. Illumi returned his gaze to a spot on the wall opposite him and concluded that he would have to do something about the Hunter before Hisoka did.

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Two weeks after that exchange, Illumi covertly followed the Hunter on one of her quests, as he had been doing increasingly often. He was not especially worried about her safety; the things she Hunted for she typically did not have to fight others to acquire. He watched her glide through forests, consulting ancient maps, and finally arrive at what looked like the ruins of a temple. His Hunter approached the ruins slowly, reverently, her eyes shining in awe. There was something fascinating about that, he thought. Seeing her eyes all wide and bright captivated him, somehow. Perhaps this is her nen style? Was she a Manipulator, like him?

Before he could ponder it too long, there was a sudden movement as five men leapt out of their hiding spots to surround his Hunter before she could reach the ruins. Illumi leaned forward, observing more closely now. He had been looking forward to this. He knew that his Hunter was being followed, and now he would have an opportunity to see how she fought. Then he would know how best to neutralize her, and she would not have her claws in his Kill anymore.

His Hunter jumped, frightened. She clearly had not known she was followed. Her first mistake.

Reacting quickly, she looked around for possible escapes. Apparently finding none (though Illumi could spot a few), she lowered her stance and said something to the brigand directly in front of her. Naïvely demanding answers or trying to buy herself time? Either way, a waste of precious time to fight or escape. Her second mistake.

Fortune must have been in her favour, though, because the apparent leader of the brigands laughed and began delivering what must have been some sort of monologue; the other four men politely waited for him to finish, rather than rushing her while she was distracted.

Suddenly, a shout: “ASĊUFE!” and the leader was sent flying back a few feet. His Hunter did not appear to have moved, but that was clearly a use of her nen. She must be an Emitter, then. That would account for her short temper. He leaned in closer, intent on learning exactly how she fought.

Not waiting for the leader to get back up, she rushed forward, aiming for the entrance of the ruined temple. But she was not quite quick enough as the leader grabbed her leg and dragged her down. Then the four other brigands rushed in, some recoiling with shouts of pain when she shouted another word, “Forseċe!” and as she inexpertly slashed at her attackers with a knife. But they were all larger than she, and clearly trained to fight together, and Illumi began to worry that she might not make it out of this fight.

No.

He dashed toward the melee, keeping himself concealed, and threw a needle at each brigand. With practiced effortlessness, he hit his mark each time and a round-headed needle embedded itself into the neck of four of the men, and the eye of the leader, still under his Hunter. Ignoring his screams, Illumi sat back in his hiding place in the forest canopy as he realized what he had just done. His Hunter rolled away in a panic and ducked for cover – that’s better, Illumi thought absently – and he tried to decide how to proceed from here.

Why had he done that? It was reflexive, he did it the moment his Hunter looked to be in real danger. Well, I need to be the one who kills her, I can’t let some nobody thugs do it before I’ve made her pay, he thought. But was that really the reason? Why did the idea of someone else hurting her twist his gut so unpleasantly? The only time they had spoken, she had snapped at him for talking to his own beloved little brother. Why was he being like this?

He didn’t understand this strange protectiveness. This Hunter had a dangerous hold on him now, not just his Kill. This was a problem he would need to give some serious thought to now. He needed to deal with her – the sooner the better.

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Trying to muffle her panicked breaths, the Hunter waited in her hiding spot for what felt like an eternity under the cover of the ruins, in case whatever had suddenly killed the mercs was still there. Eventually, when listening and searching for an aura still indicated that she was alone, she crawled slowly out of her hiding place and examined the nearest body, Mad Dog, the leader. There was something in his eye, and looked deep enough to have gotten to his brain. The screaming as he died had been horrible, and she had to turn away and take some deep breaths to keep herself from puking. Turning back to look again, she finally recognized what the weapon was: a needle, with a big, round, golden head. She had seen these once before, and she couldn’t imagine who else could use them to so effectively kill someone. An icy hand clenched around her heart.

Illumi’s been following me.

[ariesrondeletia]

Which yandere haikyuu characters do you think would end up kidnapping their s/o?

Art credit:  ながる

Thank you so much for this request! I haven’t made a list before and this was so much fun to do. Because of that I got kind of carried away tho… If you want me to write another school team let me know, I’m more than happy to rant about these haicuties. Sorry, that’s cheesy but I love them.

I think almost every yandere has the potential to kidnap their darling if they’re pushed far enough. There’s a lot of reasons to kidnap a darling ranging from wanting to protect the darling to a desire to keep the darling all to themselves. That said, some yanderes are more likely to kidnap their darling than others. For this list, I’ll just go through Karasuno and rank them from least to most likely. 

Yachi wouldn’t dream of locking her darling up. She’s undeserving of even the slightest glance. She could never bring herself to do anything that could potentially harm her darling. Plus, she doesn’t have a clue about how to kidnap her darling. The furthest she’ll go is sneaking into your room to watch you sleep and maybe grab that old t-shirt in the back of your closet. You can always feel her presence just over your shoulder but she’s good at hiding herself away before she could get caught. Honestly, it’ll take ages for her to gather the courage just to speak to you. And when she does, she can only stumble through a compliment. She’s so adorable that you’ll forgive her stranger habits, even though she leans in to smell your hair from time to time. She won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to and it’s because of that very kindness chances are you’ll become such a cute couple. With her doing her best to make you happy, you find yourself making more and more time for her. Just pray that you never stumble upon her twisted shrine. All in all a 1/10.

Asahi worships his darling and would never risk anything that could potentially make his darling hate him. He desperately wants to ensure the safety of his darling, but the thought of them being angry is too much to bear. He’s far more likely to try to persuade his darling to stay with him. It’ll start with him just suggesting the two of you becoming roommates to cut down on costs. From there he’ll push himself into your life, staying on the sidelines, but always nearby should you through any scrap of attention his way. He’s so needy and clingy, but he’s such a sweet guy. He’ll make you paranoid by subtlely pushing his anxieties off on you until you become just as afraid of the outside world as he is. It takes some convincing, but he’ll do everything he can to make you work from home. You’ll spend most of your time indoors. He’ll beg you to stay here any time you mention the outside world. But if you push wanting to go outside, he won’t stop you. He’ll trail you like a helpless puppy, but he won’t ever stop you from doing something you want to do. He also gets a 1/10.

For the most part, Yamaguchi is in the same vein as Asahi. The main difference is that Yamaguchi’s fears lie less with the outside world and more with you leaving him. He’s not used to being completely independent, it’s something he’s only beginning to learn throughout being on the team. He’s very dependent on you. Whenever you’re around he wants you to make every choice for him. He’ll ask about which shirt looks better on him, what kind of meals he should make, what kind of flowers he should plant, whether or not he should change his hair. He wants you to praise him at every turn. And he’s willing to go to any length to become your ideal man. Because he’s so dependent on you he’ll beg you to stay by his side. He simply can’t live without you and it’s so hard to say no to him. He’s a lot pushier than you’d expect. He’ll cling to you and cry if you try to leave. You can push him away and go despite his protests, but it won’t stop him from stalking you. I’d put him at a 2/10.

Suga seems like such a sweetheart, but he’ll do almost anything to keep his darling safe and happy. He’s already incredibly clever and when you combine that with his intense love for you it results in a very manipulative yandere. He’s not cruel about it, he merely wants to convince you that the two of you are perfect for one another. He adores you and that comes through with every gift he gives, every smile he sends your way, and with every compliment that is just so genuine, it makes your heart soar. What you don’t know is that he’s spent hours watching you in order to ensure that he can give you the perfect gift and know the exact compliment to quell your anxieties. It’s painstaking work but it’s worth it if it means you’ll stay with him. When he asks you out you won’t hesitate. Your relationship is the best you’ve ever had, at least from the perspective you have. Suga’s good at keeping all of his less desirable tendencies out of sight. But now that he knows every need, every insecurity, every desire, and every thought that goes through your head, he’ll have no trouble finding the right words to keep you away from the world. He’s so subtle about it you’ll forget why you even wanted to go outside. There’s nothing for you there, he’s all you need. He gets a 4/10.

Kiyoko believes that she knows what’s best for her darling. She’s spent most of her highschool life subtly mentoring a team of volleyball players. At this point, she’s so used to people looking up to her that she’s shocked to find someone more perfect than she is. Even if no one else can tell, she knows what a catch you are. She’s so sweet as she babies you. She’ll act like an older sister type, always watching over you. She’s there to help you with your homework, so kindly fixing your mistakes. You can come to her for advice anytime you need. It won’t be long before she gets more and more controlling. She’ll pick out your clothes for you and she’ll cook healthy meals for you. It feels like she’s just a loving girlfriend taking care of you, but in reality, she’s making you dependent on her. Soon you’ll be coming to her for every little problem you have, not realizing how helpless you are without her. If you try to leave, you’ll find life to be significantly harder without her. As soon as you face any challenge Kiyoko will appear by your side, showing you how much easier life could be if you’d just let her love you. Matching Suga, she gets a 4/10.

Right in the middle, we have Ennoshita. He’s used to being left in the background to make room for other, more passionate players, which makes it very easy to fly under your radar. He’s always around you, hovering on the outskirts of your gaze until he can build up your trust in him. You’ll get used to him being by your side for a while. And then things will start to get uncomfortable. He’ll hang around you much longer than he should, coming over to your house to study, only to stay despite the fact that the two of you are done studying. He’ll go through your stuff in a casual way, as though everything is totally normal. The comments he makes about your room and the things you own are… off-putting. It’s like he already knows everything about you. He brushes it off as he just knows you well but there’s this one-sided intimacy. He doesn’t do anything, not really. And yet, you feel trapped. He won’t physically kidnap you. He doesn’t say anything cruel. It’s just the atmosphere, though there’s no evidence to suggest otherwise, you know you can’t escape. Dead center, 5/10.

Tanaka is a unique blend of a worshipper and a possessive. He reveres you as a god. He expects you to hate him, most women do, but that won’t phase him in the slightest. He can take your hatred, he’ll relish in anything you give him. He’ll let you curse out his name or kick him to the ground if it’ll bring a cruel smile to your face. But that doesn’t mean he’ll let you do whatever you please. He doesn’t want anyone else to dirty his precious darling, so he’ll keep you separated from anyone that isn’t him. He knows how disgusting people can be and he views it as his life’s mission to protect you from them. Everyone is a potential threat. And you’re just too kind, too forgiving, he has to step up. He can keep you away from those perverts while still basking in your presence. Of course, if you want to it’s easy to escape. Tanaka will inevitably make more than a few mistakes. The only thing is, he’ll work terrifyingly hard to find you. What he lacks in intelligence he makes up with pure determination. When he finds you he’ll take you back to your shared home, carrying you so gently despite how much you thrash and fight and struggle. He’ll apologize as soon as the two of you are home together. Was he not good enough? He’ll be better, spending every free second by your side. He leans to a 6/10.

Noya is insane. There’s really no other way to put it. The most perverse out of all of them, he’s practically drooling at the chance to be by your side. He has such little relationship experience it takes 0.5 seconds for him to be head over heels. He’s also the clingiest one on this list, if you stray from his side for an instant he’s immediately panicking and calling the cops. He’s basically a needy puppy, glued to your hip and begging for attention. He’ll do anything to please you, he’ll learn to cook, show off his volleyball skills, listen to every word you say. He’ll conform himself to being your perfect husband. If you praise him, do it sparingly. If he receives praise too often he’ll become more deluded and push past your limits more and more. You didn’t want him to lock you up? But he’s been such a good boyfriend, you’ll let it slide, won’t you? You said he was a perfect match for you and you can’t go back on your word. Going to the opposite side and being cold makes him more desperate for praise. To finally get you to notice him becomes a goal and he will achieve it, even if he has to chain you to the bed. He gets so jealous it won’t take long for him to be the only person you’ll ever see. 7/10.

Daichi just wants you to be safe. This world can be so cruel and he can’t bear the thought of you getting your heart broken. You’re too sweet to be working so hard, just let him take care of you. All you have to do is sit at home patiently. Don’t talk to your friends, they might seem nice but Dachi knows that they’re all wicked. Trying to lay their hands on you and abuse a gentle soul like yours. He can’t let that happen. He’s the only one you need. The only one you can trust. Everyone else would use you as a stepping stone, but not him. He loves you. You just have to obey and your life is set. The two of you will be married after high school finishes. He’ll go on to college and you’ll be a house spouse. Once he gets a job, you’ll be dependent on him for a steady income, it seems every company you apply to turns you down. Complaints you have about your monetary vulnerability seems to upset your loving boyfriend. Why would you need a job? You have him. Every little thing you don’t like gets shot down by him. No friends, no family, no jobs, no freedom. He’s just trying to protect you, why would you ever want to leave? He sits at an 8/10.

Tsukishima loves the power he has over you. He’s smarter, stronger, more attractive and he’ll spend every second rubbing it in your face. He’ll taunt you, but if you show a negative reaction to his words it’ll make him awkward. If you cry or yell, he’ll be stunned for a second. He feels like it’s right for him to jeer at you, but if you do the same, his love for you will result in him crumbling. He puts on a facade of cruelty because he hates feeling powerless and his love for you is power too strong to be acknowledged. Yell at him, scream, cry, and he’ll snap like a twig. When he’s upset, he’ll isolate you, trying to separate himself from the fact he really does care, but can’t ever show it. He wants control. To feel like he isn’t addicted to the feel of your skin, the taste of your lips, the reflection of himself in your eyes. He’ll kidnap you and is smart enough to get away with it. He’s not kind to you, chains are forever around your ankles and his room becomes your hell. But there are moments of softness, though rare, where he’ll give you a gift or compliment you like he’s trying to gain your affection. Make a comment about it and he’ll have no qualms about abandoning you for a few days. Be unfailingly kind and act as he wants, and maybe he’ll be gentle, but he will never ever let you go. I place him at a 9/10.

If you’re looking for someone completely delusional, Hinata is the one for you. He’ll believe that the two of you are made for each other and no amount of protesting can ever change his mind. He’s basically a lost cause as soon as he meets you. You’ll engulf his every thought, the same fixation he had on volleyball now focused on you. You’ll have almost no free time once the two of you start ‘dating’ but you’ll have no problems with it because you clearly love him as much as he loves you. And perfect couples should live together, of course. The two of you are so happy together, he can’t stop talking about how great you are. It’s such a lovely mask that he can’t ever look past it to see how you really feel. He’ll do anything to keep his idyllic vision. If you tell him you hate him, he’ll say that he just hasn’t been giving you enough love and will increase his clinginess tenfold. If you try to run away, he’ll say that you needed a breath of fresh air. The two of you can go on a walk together, as long as you’re handcuffed to him. Sometimes you need to be tied to the bed because your ridiculous temper tantrum is getting in the way of hugging you. For better or worse, the two of you will be together forever. 10/10.

Kageyama is one of the few people that can match Hinata’s obsessiveness. He’s been attached to volleyball all his life so it basically gave him whiplash when he met you. It was a cheesy love at first sight situation, but Kageyama never knew how to love. His love is unfortunately vicious. His love letters are scribbled and unintentionally threatening. His gifts are strange and sometimes bloody. His touch is rough. He’s trying so hard, but can’t seem to find the words to tell you how much he loves you. It doesn’t take him long to get jealous, the more afraid you are the more you run to somebody who isn’t him. He unlearns all the lessons his team has painstakingly taught him and suddenly he can’t get along with others. He’s practically hissing at anyone who comes near you. A glare from him cuts through bone. Your friends will stop being your friends when he pays a visit. He’s always been good at volleyball, great even, but he can’t do a damn thing to earn your heart. So he just takes it. Regardless of how you feel, he’ll have you trapped in someplace secluded where he can practice being a better boyfriend. He loves you and you should love him too. Even if it takes time, he’s sure you’ll come around. He’s the only one you’ve got after all. Another 10/10.