#running from my responsibilities and blurring the background

[izuizzy]

Out at the park 🌲✨

[sweetreadings]

Say my Name

Professor Nanami calls you into his office :))

Warnings: smut, afab reader, professor! Nanami, age gap, pussy eatin', p in v sex, nipple play, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, Nanami is sweet. not proof read, this is also my first time writing something this long. MDI (wc: 1,100)

With a sense of anticipation, you knock gently on the oak door of your professor’s office. After a few moments the door opens with a soft creak, your history professor on the other side. 

  “Welcome. Please have a seat.” He gestures to a smooth leather chair in front of his large desk.

The office is warmly lit by a small table lamp and the rich colors of the sunset slipping through some curtains that frame the window behind his desk. As you take your seat, he follows suit.

  "I've called you here because I've noticed a change in your recent assignments," Professor Nanami began, his tone serious yet free of judgment. His warm voice provides a moment of calmness to your racing heart. "Your work has always been exemplary, but there's been a noticeable shift. Specifically, you’ve failed to turn in the past four assignments. I'm concerned about you. Is everything alright?"

  "I've been struggling with some uh, personal issues." You admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "It's been hard to focus, I didn't realize it was affecting my work so much. I’m really sorry, Professor Nanami." Just as you finish, he brings his arms above his head for a quick stretch. His button down lifts up, revealing his lower abdomen. You catch a glimpse of his v-line and blonde happy trail. Your breath gets caught in your throat. Your eyes linger for a little too long before you look away, failing to hide the blush painted across your cheeks. 

  “I see…” He stands up. “You’re a good student, but if you needed some extra attention you should’ve just asked me sooner. I want you to know I’m more than happy to provide that for you.” 

  Your eyes are glued to the floor. “Well um… I’d be grateful if you would, Sir.” Anticipation bubbles in your chest like champagne, you finally look up. He gently grabs your hand and pulls you closer to him. 

  “Of course I will, I’d be crazy to turn down such a beautiful woman like you.” Nanami says in a hushed tone. He closes the gap between the two of you with a soft kiss. He wraps one arm around your back, while his other cradles your face. You wrap your arms behind his neck and deepen the kiss, the world around blurs into the background. Now chest to chest, you feel his heartbeat syncing with yours. You can’t feel your legs, if he wasn't holding you so tight you’re certain you’d have fallen by now. As if he can read your mind, Nanami lifts you up and lays you down on his desk. His hands place on either side of you, he continues to kiss you, slowly making it down to your neck. Each is filled with more passion and haste than the last.

He traces your collar bone with his fingers before kisses follow, his breath against your skin makes you see stars. He gently wraps his hands around your breasts. He runs his thumbs up and down on your clothed nipples, and a moan escapes your lips. You instinctively cover your mouth. Nanami grabs your hand and gently pulls it away.

  “C’mon pretty girl, let me hear some more.” He murmurs against your ear. His low voice along with the euphoric pace he has set sends you into a trance. He lifts your blouse to rest above your breasts. He latches his warm mouth around one of your nipples, while rolling your other nipple between his middle finger and thumb. You arch your back, and intertwine your fingers in his golden locks.

  “Professor… mhmm-feels so good!” Nanami hums in response, he looks up at you with his brown eyes full of desire. You can’t take it anymore, you need him. You reach down and palm his erection above his pants, the sensation making him groan. His groan shakes your core. “Please professor… n-need you so bad” You desperately cry. A small smile forms on his face from your shameless plea.

  “Sure thing, angel.” He gets on his knees and puts your legs over his shoulders. He leaves fast, sloppy kisses up your thigh till he reaches your core. He licks the edge of your pantie line, before he bites down on the seam and pulls your underwear down your legs and off your feet. He kisses his way back up. He dives into your arousal, his tongue fucking you. The sensation makes you squeeze your thighs around his face and grip his blonde locks to pull him in deeper. He moans into your pussy, causing you to moan. 

  “God! Nanami… you feel so fucking good!” You say and start to grind on his face. 

  He pulls his face out from your core for a moment. 

  “Keep saying my name, please.” He palms his dick through his slacks and dives back in. You nod in response. He flicks his tongue up and down your clit, sending waves of heat to your chest. He takes his free hand and pushes two fingers in to your pussy, hooking up to hit your sweet spot.

  “Fuck- Nanami, I-I’m gonna cum!” His tongue and fingers move impossibly faster, sending you over the edge in seconds. You moan and grind your hips on his face and ride out your orgasm. Nanami stands up and grabs your hand. He walks you to his chair. He sits and pulls you onto his lap.

He takes off his belt and pulls down his pants. His cock springs out. He’s long with a slight curve, his tip is flushed pink. You align your core over his length, and lower yourself onto his tip. His breath hitches and his grip on your hips tighten at the contact. He rests his head against your chest. “Fuck, you’re already driving me crazy…” He chuckles.

  “Let me do all the work baby, you just relax.” He pulls you down his full length, his groin pressed to your ass. You grip his shoulders, tight. He’s stretching you, but God his natural curve easily hits your sweet spot.

   “Sorry angel, I couldn’t hold back any longer.” he mutters in your ear. He lifts you up, and down over and over hitting your sweet spot everytime. He’s easily moving you faster and faster on his length. Tears form at the corner of your eyes. You feel yourself about to snap. You somehow string a sentence together:

  “Nanami, don’t stop… gonna cum ‘gain.” 

  “Do it baby…cum all over my dick…” He says breathlessly.

You instantly finish. “Nana- oh my God! Unnghhh..!” You pulse around his dick, causing him to release his cum deep into your pussy. 

  You rest your head against his strong chest while he holds you in his lap. 

  “I’d really like to do this again.” You whisper against him. You feel him twitch inside of you.

  “Me too. I’ll take you out first next time, sweetheart.” He smiles. You giggle.

  “I’ll look forward to it.”

a/n: hi!! i hope y'all liked this. let me know, and I'll write some more :))

reblogs are always appreciated <3

[rafeandonlyrafe]

talk to me

words: 800

warnings: addiction, breaking sobriety, drinking/doing drugs, established relationship

taglist: @drewstarkeysbae @thelomlisrafecameron @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @winterrrnight @slut4drudy @drewsbabygirll @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450

you can tell from the moment you pick up the phone that something is wrong. rafe’s breathing is so loud that it’s being picked up, coming through your phone speaker.

“rafe, baby?” you ask, but all you here is his panting in response.

“rafe, talk to me. what’s wrong?”

“i’m sorry.” rafes voice is gruff, it sounds like he’s been screaming. 

“sorry? sorry for what rafe? tell me whats wrong.” you plead, feeling tears form in your eyes. you hate being away from rafe, you know that he hates it even more than you, especially now that he’s sober. he used to just get drunk or high the entire time until you were back, but you hated coming back to a strung out rafe, and you knew it wasn’t healthy.

“i’ve been drinking.” rafe says, and you hear the slight slur in his words.

“rafe-” you stand up, already beginning to pack. you don’t need to hear anything else. you know drinking isn’t the worst thing, but for rafe, the drinking will only ever lead to drugs, and he’s been clean for so long “i’m coming home baby. where are you?”

“our house.” he says, and you hear him fumbling with something in the background, and then a crash. it sounds like glass breaking.

“rafey baby, can you go lay down in bed, yeah?” you ask, grabbing your purse and suitcase. you’d text your girlfriends from the car on the way back home to rafe. you thought that he was good enough for you to go on a spa weekend away with the girls. you made sure it was one that was less than an hour away that way you could get home quickly.

“i’m gonna go sit outside.” “okay, i’m heading to the car right now.” you were supposed to head home in the morning anyways, so you have no issue leaving the night before, knowing your girlfriends won’t mind.

“talk to me.” you say as you get in your car, starting it up. “talk to me, rafey.” “i went to the store. i bought whiskey. i fucked up baby, i know that.” “it’s okay, honey.” you swing your car onto the highway, glad that theres no cars so you can speed, praying no cops are sitting hidden.

“and now i’m making you come home because i can’t fucking do it. god, i’m the worst boyfriend.” “not at all, rafey. you make me feel so loved. you take care of me. that’s what you’re meant to do as my boyfriend and that’s what i’m doing for you as your girlfriend. i’m taking care of you.” “i’m so tired.” rafe says. “i just want to do a bump.” “rafe, keep talking.” you say, tears blurring your vision. “i’m coming home to you right now, stay strong for me okay.”

you get rafe to continue talking as you drive home, going at least 20 miles over the speed limit the entire way. you haphazardly park when you get back home, running through the house to find rafe on the balcony. 

“i’m home.” you kneel down in front of him, heart breaking at how spaced out he looks. “i’m home, rafe.” rafe lets out a choked sob, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pitching forward. you shush him gently as he cries, rubbing your hand up and down his back.

“lets go to bed, yeah?” you ask after a moment.

“i hate myself.” rafe mumbles, but accepts your help standing up. you guide him inside, not even worried about shutting the doors behind you, just focused on getting him upstairs and in bed.

“you have to break up with me.” rafe says, feet slowly shuffling down the hallway. “im going to ruin your life-” you ignore his words, blocking out whatever he was saying as you steer him into your bedroom.

“rafe, stop please.” you cut him off from continuing to speak. “i’m not going anywhere. we can talk in the morning when you have a clearer head, okay?”

rafe nods, leaning forward and pressing his lips to your forehead. “i’m so glad you’re home.” “me too.” you press your face into his chest before pulling away to tug the blankets down, watching as rafe flops down, his head immediately lolling to the side. you sit down on the bed, stroking over his hair as you watch for his breathing to change, only standing up when you are sure that he is asleep.

you gather everything on your bedside table that rafe will need in the morning, finishing it off with a tall glass of water. you’ve learned from his previous binges what he needs, you’re just relieved all he did this time was drink.

you finally get to climb into bed, sighing deeply as your head hits the pillow. you move closer to rafe until your body is pressed up against his.

rafe mumbles something you can’t make out and turns, resting his head against your chest. you smile and wrap your arms around him, holding him close, knowing this is what he needs at this moment.

“i love you.” rafe whispers.

“i love you too.” you press a kiss to the top of his head. “i love you and i’m gonna be here for you no matter what, don’t you forget that.”

[ihrtnjm]

be alright - pjs

synopsis: y/n and jisung navigate their relationship with fame and fortune. pairing: idol!fem!reader x backupdancer!jisung (nct) genre: fluff, slight angst? content: weird fans, tweets, protective manager doyoung, popcrave LMAO, anxious ji, slightly suggestive comment from reader, implied reader shorter than jisung, otherwise super fluffy stuff! wc: 14,892 a/n: this took me quite literally a year to finish but if you want more of this i’m willing to make a part two! you can tell where i lost steam, but this was too cute i had to finish it! all images not mine!

｡ﾟ❁ུ۪ °ₒ 𓂂 ˚ 𓂂 ₒ ° ₒ 𓂂 ˚˖⋆

as the crowd roars, you take in the energy and adrenaline from the performance. the crowd chants your name, begging for more of you and your presence. you smile back at the audience, gaining yet another roar from the crowd. your backup dancers start to get up from their formations and begin to return to the dressing rooms, but you stay behind to do your ment. 

“hello seoul!” you cheer and wave, the crowd cheering back in response. “it’s so great to be here! i’ve had such an amazing time these past few days. your energy is unmatched!” you keep smiling, because the crowd keeps cheering for you. even after being a musician for years, you’ve never gotten tired of the craziness, chaos, and crowds. you reach for your water bottle at the edge of the stage and take a sip. 

“my heart feels so full being able to perform in front of you guys. it’s been a while, but working hard to meet you guys is so worth it. i hope you enjoy the rest of the concert!” you bow and wave to the crowd as you head back to your dressing room. you hear a vcr clip playing as you’re rushed off stage. you find your manager, doyoung at your side and the concert director keeping tabs on what’s next. 

out of the corner of your eye, you find your boyfriend jisung running the next few dances by himself. you’ve been dating jisung for almost a year – and you don’t regret it one bit. sure, it took some convincing from doyoung’s end (“you’re dating who?!”), but he eventually understood. 

you are immediately swept to your changing room, changing into your next outfit. stylists and makeup artists swarm around you as they adjust your outfit. the next few minutes feel like a blur – a good blur – and before you even realize it, you’re headed back to the side of the stage ready to perform the rest of your songs. 

you finally make eye contact with jisung, who is on the other side of the stage. he smiles, and waves gently at you. grinning, you wave back at him. jisung has always been your biggest fan – from being a main background dancer to many of your songs, to sneakily going to your schedules acting as your crew (i mean, not wrong), he’s never tired of loving you and your growth as an idol. 

“you got this!” jisung mouths at you, giving you a thumbs up in support. in reply, you smile and give him a thumbs up. the moment the vcr ends, you’re headed back to the stage and the song starts. the lights turn different colors and your in ear monitor counts off your music. 

suddenly, you're in your zone. you sing and dance around the stage, performing your heart out. moving through the setlist, you go through the motions and feel the adrenaline of performing run through your veins. 

–

after the concert your team heads out for drinks, but you opt out to spend the rest of the evening with jisung as doyoung drops the both of you off at your penthouse. as the three of you head back to your penthouse, you’re stopped by doyoung before you head back into your humble abode.

“are you sure you don’t want to go out? you usually do.” doyoung asks you, raising his eyebrow in suspicion. he looks back at jisung, who rests on your couch. doyoung, in particular, has been protective of you and who you date. heartbreak after heartbreak, doyoung can’t help but look out for you. however, this time with much reluctance, he eventually comes around with jisung.

“yes, doyoung. trust me, you guys deserve the break and i’m sure you’re all tired of me. it's been a crazy few weeks for everyone and you especially deserve it.” you reply, slowly pushing doyoung out of your home. 

doyoung glances back at you and jisung, who is a bit intimidated by the manager.

“alright fine, but no fishy stuff, you got it? if you even do something to her, you're out.” he directs at jisung, pointing a finger at him. meanwhile, jisung is extremely flustered at the idea of them getting caught doing god knows what by doyoung, eyes wide and cheeks red. you glance back at doyoung with disgust.

“doyoung please, we'll be fine. now go and have fun!” you push him out of your home.

“fine, fine. good night guys, and great job today!” at last doyoung leaves your apartment leaving you and jisung alone. you shut the door and lean on it, giving jisung a cheeky grin.

“thank goodness,” you say with a sign of relief. you plop yourself onto your couch and see jisung fiddling with a small box. you peer over to get a closer look of what he’s holding. 

“ji, what’s that?” you ask, shuffling towards him and sitting next to him. he shyly gives you the box, geturing you to open it which reveals a beautiful bracelet. you gasp in shock, holding the box as if it’ll shatter into pieces.

“i thought that since you’ve been working so hard lately, you deserved this. i also have a matching one.” jisung smiles as he lifts up his sleeve to reveal a matching bracelet on his wrist.

“oh baby, you didn’t have to,” you softly say, “i wish i could give you something as well. i love it.” you reach over to hug him tightly. once you let go, you take your hands to his cheeks and kiss him. his hands land on your hips as the kiss gets more passionate. you let go, facing jisung.

“y’know, doyoung would kill you if he saw this.” you joke, letting your fingers linger around jisung’s hair, moving the stray strands off his face. he kisses your cheeks and lastly on your lips.

“yeah, but he isn’t here so it doesn’t matter.” he quietly remarks, ghosting his lips closely to yours. 

“that’s true.” you whisper, making the move to kiss him yet again. you feel him kiss your cheeks, down to your neck, and all over you. he shows you that you are loved, and that you’ve worked so hard these past few weeks preparing for your concert. you feel his hands wander around your body and let the touches linger as he leaves each kiss throughout your neck and nape, and comes back up to your lips. 

the rest of the night is kept to you two as you order takeout, watch a movie, and play video games with each other. it isn’t much, but after weeks of working your asses off you can’t help but be content with your life and where you are.

–

@.y/n.confessions: [submitted] anyone else notice all these lovey-dovey lyrics and the matching jewelry based on jisung’s posts? don’t get me wrong, i love it, but there’s no way y/n isn’t seeing a certain someone at the moment…

@.y/nupdates: guys, please don't speculate about y/n’s relationships! she'll let us know when she's ready ^^

@.jenonators4evr: okay but if y/n’s dating jeno, then we're gonna have issues 😡

@.PopCrave: Y/N and dancer, Park Jisung are seen on a date at a restaurant in Seoul.

@.y/nista: omg who's the guy that she's with? and why's he kinda 👀👀👀

@.ilovey/n: guys we should just respect y/n and jisung…if you were them you wouldn't like someone all up in your business like this

@.shootersfory/n: WHOS THE GUY THATS WITH Y/N AND WHY ISNT IT ME?????

as he scrolls through twitter, jisung’s brain floods with a million thoughts. 

“these tweets are ridiculous. do you think we should say something?”

as he scrolls through tweet after tweet, you’re getting ready for dance practice. you adjust your outfit in the mirror. you head back to the living room couch and sit closely to jisung. you lean over to see what he’s been reading.

“this is something my pr team might have to handle.” you bite your lip in nervousness. he scrolls through the tweets as he rests his head on your shoulder. he knows he will never get the brunt of it. he's not in the limelight as intensely as you are, but he sees the anxiety cloud your thoughts. 

“you think so?” he asks. 

“i know so.” you reply. “i don't want either of us making a statement that isn't okay with both of us.” you turn back to look at his anxious face. your heart breaks in guilt as you take it in. you never wanted this life for him – you know for sure that it is all your fault. was this the life you wanted to rope jisung into?

after a pregnant pause, “i-i’m sorry,” you stammer, sitting up to face him. “all of this is my fault. i never wanted any of this for you.” you feel your eyes tear up and your voice shake. is this the future of your relationship? is this what life has paved for you?

“honey, wait,” jisung stops, taking his large hands into your face, holding it gently. “it's not your fault. this is just a hurdle we have to jump through. like you said, we can work with your pr team to handle it. you're not alone. we're a team.” he makes sure to keep his eyes on yours the entire time. you look back at him with glassy eyes and sniffle. you nod and kiss him on the cheek. 

“ji, you know i love you, right?” you ask him, putting your hands on top of his.

“i’ll love you always.”  “now come on, let’s head to practice.”

when you two get up from the sofa and out of the door, jisung turns back to you. “did you see that tweet asking who i was? that was hilarious.”

“it was, but at the end of the day you’re in my bed.” you reply cheekily with a smug smile on your face.

“augh, don’t ever do that again!” jisung says with light disgust, cringing at your comment.

“you know you liked it!” you chuckle to yourself. oh, jisung. you look back at jisung as he stands patiently in the elevator to the lobby. despite all the odds, park jisung has stolen your heart.

–

as you and jisung walk around hongdae in your masks and glasses, you spot an arcade along with photobooths galore. strewn with all kinds of headbands, wigs, and accessories, your eyes widen in interest. 

“ji, check it out! i’ve been wanting to do this forever, can we?” you plead, giving your best sad dog eyes you can under your glasses. jisung can’t help but smile at your cuteness. he takes his hands and cradles your face, squishing your cheeks. 

“of course.” he smiles, letting you lead each other into the arcade. he opens the door for you, and you take note of the small but kind gesture. you lead him into the photobooth area, and look through the accessories provided by the arcade. you give each other silly headbands and sunglasses, and head into the booth.

you two do cute poses, but the one that truly lights your heart on fire is when he takes one hand on your waist, and one on your unmasked cheek and steals a kiss on your lips. despite the fact that you’ve been dating jisung for a year, he never fails to make you blush. he lets go after the photos are done, and smiles at you. 

“now what was that for?” you smile, looking up at him. 

“no reason. i just love you so much.” he replies, putting one of his hands on your cheek. even though his demeanor is calm and cool, his heart is beating wildly. he wishes he could give you the world, but yet he feels like not enough. you were more than his world, more than his everything. 

“honey, you don’t have to worry about us, y/n. we’ll be alright.” jisung states. “i will make sure we have everything in our favor, and that you get the peace and quiet you deserve.” he takes off all the silly accessories and leads you two out of the booth, with no masks or sunglasses. you two could care less about the world around you two, all smiles. 

“i love you so much, ji.”

-

@.CharmEntertainment: A Statement from Charm Entertainment and Y/N 

Hello, this is Charm Entertainment. We are confirming Y/N’s relationship with her partner, Park Jisung. They have been dating for more than one year, and are content in their relationship. We ask that you respect their privacy and relationship. We will be seeking legal action to protect Y/N and Park Jisung against any hate messages and speech. Thank you for supporting Y/N, and we hope that you continue to support her in the future. 

@.y/nofficially:  hello, this is y/n.

i want to be as transparent as possible, but i also understand this must be overwhelming for everyone. i’ve been dating jisung for about a year now, and this has been some of the best months of my life. i’ve never been happier, and i hope everyone respects our relationship. i won’t apologize for being in a relationship, because no one deserves to be sorry for loving someone. i ask that you respect both our privacy at this time and from now on. thank you to my fans for always being there for me, and words cannot express my gratitude for all the support these past years. i hope you can continue supporting me in the future. 

thank you so much <3

@.the__and.y: this is jisung.

first, i just want to apologize for any inconvenience i’ve caused. with that being said, i’ve been in a content relationship with y/n for about a year now, and i’ve been so blessed to be with a woman as amazing as her. she has helped me learn so much, but i won’t apologize for being in a relationship. please respect our relationship and privacy, and thank you to those supporting me. 

@.y/n4lyfe: i think we all owe y/n and jisung an apology, we don’t deserve them at all especially for the statements made!

@.idolconfessing: tell me why charm ent ate up with that statement, some companies could never! 

@.jisungsupdate: jisung didn’t deserve to apologize for anything! you’re all so foul!

-

as you scroll through the messages on your fan pages, you can’t help but smile from ear to ear. as you lay on the practice room floor, you read message after message. you giggle at some tweets and posts, not noticing jisung smiling at you. 

“honey, didn’t the company tell you not to be on your phone for the time being?” he asks concernedly, sitting up next to you. he strokes your hair, and you dodge his hand.

“jiiii, i’m sweaty!” you whine, rolling away from him. “and yes, they did, but some of them are kind of funny. can you blame me? tell me you aren’t curious about the vibe.” you reply, looking back at him from the floor. 

“i am, but i’m just worried about the negative comments. i just worry for you, baby.” he says back, lying down next to you. you look at him with endearment. he never fails to look out for you. you place your phone down, and you move closer to him.

“i’m fine ji, but thank you. like you said, we’ll be alright.” you recall. snuggling closer to him, laying your head on his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat. you close your eyes flutter shut, before promptly interrupted by doyoung. 

“y/n, did you get my message about the- ah.” doyoung pauses at the entrance, hand steady on the doorknob. you two immediately sit up and away from each other, flushed with the sudden entrance. 

“sorry doyoung,” you mutter with flushed cheeks, “you said you sent something?” you reach back for your phone and scroll through your notifications to see what he was talking about. 

“uh yeah, but i’ll just leave you two to do what you were doing,” he replies, closing the door with no hesitation. sure, doyoung has been lenient with you two, but he feels like he is constantly interrupting you two.

“my god doyoung, we didn’t do anything!” you shout back with cheeks even more red than ever, hands resting on your forehead. 

“baby, it’s okay,” jisung giggles, “just chill with me.” he guides you back to the floor, and you two resume what you were previously doing. 

you two were going to be alright.

if you read this far and enjoyed the fic, reblog and follow me for more!

[seungvocado]

Break Ground [Part 3]

υ´• ﻌ •`υ — Pairing: Seungmin x Reader

υ´• ﻌ •`υ — Content/Trigger warning: Step brother!Seungmin, Step sister!Reader, Fem!Reader, Slow burn, Slight angst, Kind of Cheating (?), Possessive Seungmin, Jealous Seungmin. [Let me know if I miss out any!]

υ´• ﻌ •`υ — Sypnosis: Y/N who is secretly in love with her Seungmin - even before they were step-siblings, navigates the complexities of their relationship. Unspoken feelings escalates when she dates another boy to distract herself from Seungmin.

υ´• ﻌ •`υ — Master list - Break Ground (mini series)

υ´• ﻌ •`υ — 18+ work! MDNI! Ageless/blank blogs will be blocked, put an indicator on your blog somewhere that you are 18+ before interacting with this work/blog.

After the gruelling weeks of finals, Y/N and her friends were ready to let loose. The collective sigh of relief at the end of their last exam quickly turned into excited chatter as they planned a night out. They decided on dinner first, followed by a visit to a local bar where they could finally unwind after weeks of stress and sleepless nights.

The dinner was lively, filled with laughter and shared stories of their exam experiences. But it was at the bar where things truly began to spiral. They ordered drinks, played games, and cheered each other on as the night progressed. Y/N found herself drinking more than she usually would, the alcohol working quickly to loosen her inhibitions. Her boyfriend was by her side, trying to convince her to slow down, even helping her drink when she lost a game.

At one point, Y/N rested her head on his shoulder, her vision blurring as she felt his hand gently run through her hair. It was comforting, and for a moment, she allowed herself to relax, letting the noise of the bar fade into the background.

But then, one of her friends suggested a game of truth or dare. The group, already buzzed and in high spirits, eagerly agreed. When it was Y/N’s turn, she chose dare, laughing as she waited for the challenge. The dare she received, however, was far from funny.

“I dare you to call one of your family members and ask them how many times you should fuck your boyfriend tonight,” her friend said, giggling mischievously. The others joined in, egging her on despite the obvious discomfort on her boyfriend’s face.

“That’s a bad idea,” her boyfriend whispered to her, trying to take her phone away. “Let’s skip this one.”

But Y/N, already a few drinks in, was feeling bold and reckless. Before he could stop her, she had already dialled a number, her finger hovering over the call button for a moment before she pressed it.

The phone rang, and Y/N waited, half expecting it to go to voicemail. But then, someone picked up on the other end.

“Y/N? Where are you? Why aren’t you home yet? It’s late,” came the familiar voice, stern and concerned.

Y/N’s breath hitched slightly, her drunken mind struggling to process the situation. But the dare was still echoing in her ears, and before she could think better of it, she blurted out the question. “How many times… should I fuck my boyfriend tonight?”

There was a tense silence on the other end of the line. Her friends around her laughed, though some were starting to realize the gravity of what had just happened. Her boyfriend looked horrified, his face paling as he recognized the voice on the other end.

“Y/N,” the voice over the phone was calm, dangerously so, “hand the phone to your boyfriend. Now.”

The seriousness in the person’s tone cut through Y/N’s haze, but she was too disoriented to fully grasp what was happening. She handed the phone over without thinking, and her boyfriend reluctantly took it.

Y/N watched as her boyfriend listened to whatever the person over the phone was saying, his face growing more ashen with each passing second. He tried to stammer out a response. Her boyfriend, pale and visibly shaken, fumbled with the phone before hanging up. He looked around the bar, clearly distressed and unsure of what to do next. His eyes darted around, trying to find a solution as Y/N’s friends continued to laugh and jeer, oblivious to the gravity of the situation.

It wasn’t long before Seungmin made his entrance. He moved through the crowded bar with a purposeful stride, his presence commanding attention. His expression was one of intense focus and barely contained anger. The moment he spotted Y/N and her boyfriend, he headed straight for them.

Y/N’s boyfriend saw Seungmin approaching, and his face went even whiter. He tried to shield Y/N, stepping in between her and Seungmin, but the effort was futile. Seungmin, his eyes cold and unyielding, quickly took control of the situation.

“Y/N, we’re leaving,” Seungmin said firmly, his voice cutting through the noise of the bar.

Y/N, her mind still foggy from the alcohol, blinked at him in confusion. Seungmin’s presence, though imposing, was a comfort she didn’t fully grasp in her current state. He gently but firmly guided her away from the bar, his grip steady and reassuring.

Her boyfriend, looking relieved but also scared, tried to protest. “I didn’t mean for—”

“Save it,” Seungmin interrupted, his tone brooking no argument. “You’ve done enough.”

With that, Seungmin led Y/N out of the bar, his arm wrapped securely around her. The cool night air hit Y/N’s face as they stepped outside, and she began to realize the full extent of what had happened. Seungmin’s familiar scent filled her senses, a mix of clean linens and something uniquely him.

As they reached the car, Seungmin opened the door for Y/N and helped her inside, his touch gentle despite his stern demeanour. Once she was settled, he climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine, the car’s interior a cocoon of quiet.

Y/N glanced over at Seungmin, noticing the tension in his shoulders and the tight grip on the steering wheel. Despite her inebriation, she could sense the depth of his concern and the barely restrained anger.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, her voice slurred and filled with regret. “I didn’t mean—”

Seungmin cut her off with a soft sigh, his eyes fixed on the road. “It’s okay, Y/N. Let’s just get you home.”

The drive was quiet, the only sounds being the hum of the engine and the occasional rustle of the wind. Y/N leaned against the window, feeling a mix of shame and gratitude. Seungmin had come through for her in a way she hadn’t expected, and the reality of her actions hit her harder with each passing mile.

When they finally arrived home, Seungmin helped Y/N inside, his touch gentle but firm. As he guided her to her room, he remained silent, his face a mask of concern and frustration.

Y/N, feeling the weight of the night’s events, looked up at him with a mixture of apology and something else—an acknowledgment of the unspoken bond between them. “Thank you,” she whispered as he helped her into bed.

Seungmin nodded, his eyes softening slightly. “Just… be careful, okay? I’m not always going to be around to save you from your own mistakes.”

With that, he left the room, closing the door quietly behind him. Y/N lay in bed, the events of the night replaying in her mind. The realization of how deeply Seungmin cared for her, despite their complicated relationship, was both comforting and unsettling.

υ´• ﻌ •`υ — υ´• ﻌ •`υ — υ´• ﻌ •`υ — υ´• ﻌ •`υ

Y/N stirred in her bed, she’s not sure how long she has stayed in bed, the events of the night replaying in her mind. The image of Seungmin's stern, concerned face haunted her. Unable to shake off the mix of shame and lingering emotions, she found herself unable to sleep.

Y/N suddenly remembered that their parents are both out of town, which explains why her mom was not up waiting for her when she and Seungmin returned home. The weight of what had transpired pushed her from her bed, her movements unsteady as she made her way down the hallway to Seungmin’s room. She crept quietly, her steps barely making a sound as she approached his door. The house was dark and silent, the only light coming from the faint glow of the streetlights outside. With a deep breath, she pushed open the door to Seungmin's room. Seungmin, already in bed and seemingly deep in thought, was jolted awake by the slight creak of the door. His eyes widened in surprise as he saw Y/N standing there, her posture hesitant yet determined. “What are you doing?” Seungmin asked, his voice a mix of concern and confusion. He sat up, trying to make sense of the situation. Y/N, still slightly intoxicated and driven by a tumult of emotions, moved closer to him. She climbed onto the bed and, despite her state, was handsy with him, her touch lingering and desperate. “Seungmin…” she murmured, her voice slurred but filled with longing. “I can’t stop thinking about you.” Seungmin’s expression shifted from shock to something more guarded. He gently pushed her hands away, trying to maintain control over the situation. “Y/N,” he said firmly but gently, “are you here because you didn’t get to… be with your boyfriend tonight?” Y/N mewled, a soft, almost feline sound of need. Her eyes, still clouded with intoxication, looked at him with a mix of vulnerability and desire. “No,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I… I haven’t had any intimacy with him before. I just need you, Seungmin. Only you.” Seungmin’s heart raced, torn between his own emotions and the responsibility he felt toward her. He knew how dangerous it was to act on these feelings, especially with Y/N’s current state of mind. But hearing her confession, seeing her so exposed and vulnerable, was almost unbearable. “Y/N,” he said softly, his voice trembling slightly, “you need to think clearly. This isn’t the right time. You’re not in the best state to make decisions right now.” But Y/N shook her head, her eyes pleading. “No, please… I need you. I know you care for me. I can feel it.” Seungmin took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He gently but firmly took her hands in his, holding them away from him. “You’re not thinking straight right now. We need to talk about this when you’re sober and fully aware of what you’re saying.” Y/N’s expression shifted from pleading to hurt, but she slowly nodded, recognizing the truth in his words. “Okay,” she said quietly, her voice barely audible. “I’ll wait.” Seungmin helped her settle onto his bed, covering her with the blankets. He sat beside her, his own emotions a chaotic mess as he struggled to maintain his composure. The room was silent except for the soft sound of Y/N’s breathing and Seungmin’s deep, steady breaths. As Y/N’s eyes grew heavy with sleep, Seungmin remained by her side, his mind racing. The night had revealed more than he had intended, and the boundary between them had shifted in ways he wasn’t prepared for. He knew he had to be careful, both for Y/N’s sake and his own. The complexity of their feelings was becoming increasingly apparent, and navigating this new terrain would require careful consideration and restraint.

[draculasfavoritewife]

Hunted

Summary: Tatooine is a planet filled with old ghosts, and when one of yours rears its ugly head again, your Mandalorian takes matters into his own capable hands.

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Warnings: Canon-typical violence and minor OC death at the end. Allusions to hunter/prey roleplay and bondage, my voice kink makes a couple of cameo appearances. I the writer was particularly thirsty for Din Djarin the day I wrote this and thus take full responsibility for the results.

This is really one of the most blatantly self-indulgent things I've written, born of many long daydreaming sessions and my love for any episode where my man rubs elbows with the delightful and despicable denizens of the OG desert planet. I truly can't explain it, Tatooine Din™️ just hits me different, so please enjoy this very long fic about it.

*Translations of less common words/phrases in Mando'a at the end

You step into the crowded main street of the city, taking a moment to let all of your senses adjust to the stark difference. The last week or so has been spent on the ship in a cold vacuum, the gleaming blur of hyperspace and the steady thrum of engines a constant gentle halo in the background. It was nice, if a little quiet for your personal taste. Your partner certainly doesn’t talk much, and you tend to spend much of your time alone with him less conversationally inclined as a result.

He’s rubbed off on you that way. 

Now the twin suns of Tatooine scorch down on you from above, making eyes that have become accustomed to soft darkness sting. A throng of street vendors, lowlifes, and ne’er-do-wells streams through the ragtag market on all sides, moving bodies chattering nonstop in floods of Basic, Huttese, Aqualish, Droid, and snatches of more exotic tongues. 

A moment, and you feel yourself suddenly at ease again, as your brain resets back to your old lifestyle in the Core Worlds. It feels like putting on a well-loved shaak-leather coat that remembers all your contours just right. 

“You look happy,” the Mandalorian observes from beside you. 

You always wonder about him, how he's actually faring under that helmet, so shiny in this harsh light that you come away with spots in your vision after glancing at him too long. Din walks with the easy confidence of a man that’s walked these alleys many times before, but you know him more personally than most. He’s a quiet man under that shell, one who vastly prefers his solitude and finds the company of most beings in the galaxy a soul-stealing chore after two minutes. 

And unlike you, he never relaxes. 

“I am.” You side-eye him, briefly admiring his prowling stride as he diligently scans the moving figures surrounding the pair of you. “Sometimes I really like big crowds.” 

“You’re crazy,” he remarks. “This many people add too many variables.” 

“Your comment stands.” You draw closer to him in order to reach into the satchel slung across his body and ruffle the Kid’s long ears. “But to me, it’s almost easier. I can usually read people’s intentions pretty well. Bodies speak louder in crowds.” 

“I suppose.” He hasn’t stopped his surveillance yet. You can guess at how his eyes are darting here and there beneath the visor. He probably has at least two escape routes planned out already, if not more. 

You want nothing more than to tell him to relax and enjoy himself — you’re not even here on hunter business, simply to refuel and stock up on supplies before your next run — but you know that’s a useless endeavor. 

“I found that strangely hot, by the way,” you say instead, since it HAS been taking up space in your mind for some time. 

“What?” 

“Finding out you speak Tusken. That’s VERY attractive.” 

It was. When he had to negotiate with the scouts on your way into town, you couldn’t deny the fluttering in your stomach at hearing his low, smoky voice bark out the harsh sounds as he supplemented his meaning with crisp sign language. 

And besides the sound of it, you certainly find it very hot for a man of his stature to be so willing and ready to communicate and settle fraught situations peacefully. 

“I — what — I don’t — ?” 

It still makes you grin, how easily flustered he is when you catch him off-guard with flirting. 

“Don’t you think so, Grogu?” You poke the Kid’s tiny nose. “Isn’t it attractive when your buir talks like that?” 

The little one squeals enthusiastically in response, probably more to your teasing than the actual question. 

“Stop that, don’t encourage her.” Din casts a disapproving look first at the Kid and then at you; it strikes you as funny how well you can translate such a simple tilt of the helmet. “And don’t you ask him that, he’s just a kid.” 

“I think you’re blushing under that bucket,” you smirk, sidling away. 

“I’m not.” 

You subside with the teasing for the time being, and the Mandalorian releases a sigh of relief as you start wandering, letting handmade jewelry and stoneware snatch your attention away from him. He’s getting better at keeping up with your rapid changes of interest, but somehow your more romantic moods still manage to get the better of him when you’re out in public. 

He blames the environment. When it’s just the two of you alone, he can see what’s coming in the slant of your lips or the way you suddenly decide to plant yourself right in front of whatever he’s working on. And he’s almost as likely to initiate now, so long as the Kid’s not in the same room. But out here, as his field of vision constantly shifts in the sea of bodies, and his right hand drifts between Grogu in his satchel and the pistol at his hip, he just doesn’t possess the bandwidth to also process what the kriff could possibly turn you on so much about his language skills. 

He tucks that particular piece of information away in a metaphorical corner, to dissect and possibly use at a later time. 

You return to him after your little side trip, flirtation seemingly forgotten for now. “I saw a ring at that one booth —” you gesture over your shoulder “— that I’m almost positive is dolovite. So pretty. I’m not even sure the vendor knows what he’s got. It’s tempting.” 

“I bet.” He notes the tone of your voice, the way you glance back one more time as the pair of you move on. 

“But we are here for the essentials, first and foremost. Maybe if it’s still there by the end of the day.” 

He nods thoughtfully, and listens as you ramble through the list of what the three of you need, both in terms of provisions and to keep the ship flying. 

The sooner you’re all able to leave this crowd and noise behind, the better. 

He doesn’t care for the feeling that his little clan’s safety isn’t completely under his control. 

Hours later, stewardship of the satchel carrying the Kid has passed over to you. Din carries the day’s purchases, slung from either end of the pole balanced across his wide shoulders. He watches affectionately from behind his immobile visage of beskar at the sight of you spiritedly haggling with a Twi’lek vendor over the price of fruit. The arm not being used to illustrate your point cradles Grogu, half-asleep, close to your torso, and it touches something deep inside him, to see you care for his foundling so naturally. 

The image almost — almost — lulls him into something resembling a dangerous sense of peace.

Almost, but not quite. 

Which is why, when the blaster bolt narrowly misses your shoulder and instead blows a crate of produce into a violently sticky explosion, he’s only a half-second slower than he normally would be as he pivots sharply and yanks out his own weapon. His shot drops the sniper leaning out of a second-story window across the street, a Rodian crumpling to the ground in a tangle of ragged cloak. 

His armor-clad body is positioned in front of you in another second, keeping you and the Kid sandwiched between the booth and his beskar as he rapidly searches for any more guns to rear their ugly muzzles. 

The market has dissolved into chaos around you, but no more fire is heard. 

You slip your DL-44 out of your back holster with one hand and push the satchel carrying Grogu further out of the way with the other. The road had cleared in seconds, the trembling fruit vendor ducking down behind his wares. The atmosphere is suddenly quiet, too many people holding their breaths all at once. 

“See anything?” you whisper to Din. 

“Negative,” he mutters back. “He was acting alone, or else the others have retreated. Looking for heat signatures is useless, they’re everywhere here.” 

A grim suspicion starts to rise in your chest, but you keep your voice removed as you step from behind him and give him a sharp nod. “Cover me? I need to take a look at our shooter.” 

He stalks behind you as you cross, your trigger finger settling into its well-worn spot in readiness. Grogu is silent; only the tips of his giant ears poke up from the top of the bag. 

For a kid, he’s been in enough firefights to know the drill by now. 

Arriving beside the smoking form of the Rodian, you flip him over and push aside the cloak, your hand drawing back when you see exactly what you were afraid you would find. 

The sigil of a sand ape emblazoned on his jacket in red. 

“Talk to me,” Din urges, voice tight. “Do you know why he was targeting you?” 

You straighten up and bite your lip for a second, struggling over the best way to break the news to him. You’d thought it was long enough ago that old scores would be forgotten, but on Tatooine, grudges rarely die, instead simmering deep beneath the filth like a krayt dragon awaiting its next meal. 

And now you’ve unwittingly brought your riduur and his ad’ika into danger. 

“I lived in Mos Eisley for a bit at one point.” You sigh. “And I left under…difficult circumstances. I’m a bit of a loose end as far as a local gang is concerned, Din. They paid well for some mercenary jobs — it was a nice temporary setup. Last hit I was hired for turned out to have a Guild bounty on him though, and they paid more to have him delivered alive. I saw a business opportunity and didn’t look back. But I made some powerful people here pretty angry.” 

“Dank farrik.” He curses under his breath. You can nearly hear his exasperated thoughts — can’t I have ONE uneventful outing? Just ONE? — but he shakes it off swiftly and is soon all business again, his next query clipped and brusque. “Does he have a tracking fob?” 

You shake your head. “They don’t want Guild here anymore, if you recall. No, it’ll be a more intimate affair, I’d bet my blades on that. This is about revenge and closure; if there’s a reward payout it’s from the boss man himself, and probably only advertised by word of mouth.” 

The Mandalorian refocuses his thoughts from where they ever so briefly derailed at your casual misuse of the term “intimate affair” and grunts his acknowledgment. “I gather the boss man wants you alive, then?” 

You laugh, a dry, ironic sound. “Oh, he will. I have a feeling he wants to watch me suffer a bit before he kills me. Or who knows?” With a shrug, you shove the body into an alleyway and return to where you both left your purchases, only the dance of your tense fingers across the grip of your blaster giving away your readiness to protect yourself. “Maybe he’ll make me his own personal slave instead. I knew all that club dancing I did would come in handy someday.” 

Din makes a hissing sound of annoyance at your flippant tongue as he follows. There’s something about the way you can talk so carelessly about such degrading fates that truly distresses him. He knows you don’t need his protection on the same level the Kid does, but the thought of either of those options actually befalling you under his watch makes his hands clench into fists, leather gloves protesting as they stretch across his knuckles. But he knows too, that dark humor is often your way of dealing with stress, so he endeavors to let it slide and not see red. 

“Do you know where he is?” he demands suddenly. 

“The boss man? I used to. And there are people I could ask.” You take the satchel with the Kid off and hand it back to him, opting to take the parcels instead. He can fight with a baby strapped to him better than you can, and knowing you’re the primary target this time, you’d rather keep him safer. “Why?” 

“Later.” His voice has gone tense again, he must have seen something you don’t. “Right now we have to get out of here. You’re too exposed.” 

Your gaze falls on a nearby speeder bike with no obvious owner nearby. “They’ve gotten lax without me around,” you smirk, straddling the bike and revving its powerful engine. “Leaving their valuables all helpless and unattended. It’s a real shame.” 

The Mandalorian is staring at you, the drop of his shoulders suggesting surprise at your brazenness. 

“Get on,” you encourage him, laying the carrying pole across the seat behind you. “You’re getting twitchy, so there must be trouble. What’s got your cape in a twist?” 

He takes a seat behind you and settles his pulse rifle across his knees. “There’s a couple more in similar jackets closing in,” he reveals in an undertone. “And I just haven’t seen you…steal a vehicle before, is all.” 

A shot pings over his helmet before you can properly react to that. 

“Drive!” he orders, pivoting to return fire. 

You oblige, gunning the motor and tearing off down the main thoroughfare. “There’s still a few things you haven’t seen me do, Cyare,” you toss back as he dusts one of the gang members on your way past. “You and the Kid made me go soft.” 

He huffs doubtfully and nods to a narrow opening between buildings up ahead. “Can you get us out of sight?” 

“If you hang on tight enough.” You execute a tight turn at the last moment and shoot down the alley, glad the bike is compact enough to follow the cramped tunnel between the crumbling dwellings. “It’s gonna be rough ’til we’re in the open, though.” 

Din doesn’t answer in words, but his free arm wraps around your waist and you can feel the Kid’s small body tucked between the two of you. 

And it’s almost an oddly pleasant feeling, outrunning any would-be pursuers with the two of them held so close. 

By the end of the hour, supplies have been loaded into the ship and Grogu has been left in the doting care of Peli, who as always is more than happy to entertain the little guy as long as you and Din keep trouble far away from her repair station. You and the Mandalorian are now camped out on a rooftop overlooking the marketplace, a tattered fabric canopy mercifully providing some scant relief from the sunlight if not the oppressive heat. As always, your riduur appears totally indifferent to such a thing as physical discomfort, leaning out from under the awning to scope the street below through the sight of his rifle. 

Does his armor have an internal cooling system? Or are Mandalorians really just that tough? 

“You know, we could just leave,” you finally suggest. “It’s not like this particular group ever goes off-world.” 

“We could.” 

You can tell there’s a reason why he won’t. 

“But I return to Tatooine semi-frequently. And I don’t want you to constantly be looking over your shoulder every time.” 

You sit back with a sigh, idly tuning up your blaster. His ways are still foreign to you sometimes. Before your partnership, you made a life depending on adaptability and quick thinking. Having only yourself to worry about, and knowing there was no one else out there worrying about you, made it easier to simply uproot and go elsewhere whenever the heat was on you. 

Din is nearly the opposite. If there’s a way he can make things more secure for those in his care, if there’s a good enough reason, he won’t ever back down from a struggle.

He already has his mind made up. 

It’s just a bit jarring to realize that you’re the good enough reason this time. 

“What are you thinking, then?” you prompt. 

He doesn’t break his focus on the area below as he answers. “I’m thinking I just killed a couple gang members and got some interesting information out of them. I’m ex-Guild and looking for work, and being a ruthless mercenary, I might just be willing to turn on a crew member if the price is right.” 

You can’t help your sudden intake of breath at his ingenious plan. “And once we get there?” 

He finally turns to face you, his next words cold and hard as tempered beskar. “Then we kill him.” 

And there’s something a little bit more menacing in there than simple pragmatism. He has taken on the role of cabur for you and the Kid; this isn’t just about keeping trouble off your backs in future. 

Someone has threatened you, and he will not rest until that threat has been put down.

That is his duty, and he will not shirk it. 

“I love you,” you murmur, barely above the hot breeze that rakes through your hair. 

He rises to his feet, shoulders his rifle. “And I you. Which is why we’re going to have to make this look convincing. You get a two-minute head start. Whenever you’re ready.” 

You swipe a dull sand-colored cloak from a stall as you pass, immediately diving into the heart of the throng, which seems to have recovered from the earlier incident. Mos Eisley is nothing if not desensitized to crime and violence, and for a moment, you almost lose yourself in awe at the apathy of the average citizen as you let the flow of movement carry you along. Nobody cares what happens around here, so long as it doesn’t happen to them. 

It’s…odd, to remember how it felt to think that way. 

Shaking yourself back into the moment, you weave between beings of all shapes and sizes, focusing on making yourself forgettable and not appearing in too much of a hurry. You know Din will find you no matter where you end up — he’s just too good at his job not to. So for the moment you let yourself enjoy this little game, a moment spent as the quarry of a very desirable predator. 

It would be a lie to say you haven’t fantasized about this before. 

A ripple passes through the crowd to your left and behind you, people shifting to make room, like river currents split by a large stone. Only one person you know could possibly cause such a stir.

Only idiots choose to stand in the way of a hunting Mandalorian. 

Which means he’s here. 

Your heart accelerates and you try to think of a way to stall him just a little longer. Reluctantly pulling a few credits from your belt pouch, you regretfully let them scatter in the dust, knowing the only thing that reliably beats fear is greed. The people nearest to you devolve into pushing and shoving in their eagerness to get their hands on them, a writhing wall springing up between you and your pursuer. 

With a grin, you slip backwards, drifting in the opposite direction of where you had been headed before, catching the barest glimpse of sun glaring off metal as you pass. 

That's a little longer. 

He’ll expect you to be thinking the way he thinks, not the way you do, so you stamp down the inclination to think that way and instead travel into a seedier part of town, seeking out more raucous company. Wandering through cantinas and gambling dens, you pick up a refreshing blue milk along the way and almost start to let the tension ebb from your muscles. But when you see him emerge from the street and gaze through the window of the same building you were just about to exit, your adrenaline shoots up again. A dash through a maze of alleys and one stolen ride on the back of a droid rickshaw later, and even you aren’t so sure what part of the city you’ve made it to. 

The twin suns are finally beginning to sink lower in the sky as you thoughtfully chew on a piece of bantha jerky and walk through a crowded residential section, no doubt where the lower classes live. It’s much quieter here, the low-income strata not having the credits to spend on frivolities at the market. 

It’s almost…too quiet. 

You hear him before you see him, an almost deceptively musical clink of the explosive charges on his belt against his vambrace as his arm brushes past. There’s nowhere to run anymore, so you pull back your hood with an admittedly dramatic flourish and discard your savory treat, hands sliding to the twin vibroblades sheathed at your thighs. 

“So, its finally come to this, Mando.” You pull your knives and take up a fighting stance. “No use in trying to sweet-talk you out of this, is there?” 

He doesn’t answer, just pulls his own blade and gestures with his chin as if saying “Try me”. 

So you do. 

The pair of you has sparred many times before, and this altercation is brief but outwardly brutal. Finesse is nice, but necessity calls for any potential advantage to be pressed and pressed hard. For the agility your much lighter choice of clothing grants you, you can’t dent him when fully armored, so finally you resort to simple but effective tactics and throw dust in his face. 

Even a visor with a heat sensor takes a second to recalibrate from that. 

You do, however, have a scripted ending for this outing, and as you sprint off, his grappling cable snakes around your hips and down your legs, dropping you in the sand. He strides up to you, tosses a pair of binders down next to you. 

“Cuff yourself,” he orders, breath coming in heavy pants after your scuffle. “I’m taking you in.” 

And since it’s him who just captured you, who would have captured you eventually no matter what because he’s just THAT good, you don’t mind. 

No, you reflect as he hefts you over his shoulder and walks away from the few scattered spectators your fight drew out, you really don’t mind this arrangement at all. 

Maybe you’ll have to tell him that, later. 

Your former employer’s headquarters are still where you remember them, and you almost smirk at the sense of uncomfortable familiarity when Din lowers you to the floor and unties your legs. Still cuffed — and a bit tired after spending the afternoon trying to outwit the best hunter in the parsec — it’s not difficult to look angry and beaten down, kneeling there in the dust. 

The boss man rises from his seat at the table, a hulking Devaronian with a chipped horn and a hungry grimace. He swaggers over, nods at the Mandalorian standing behind you. 

“I suppose I can turn a blind eye at the loss of a few good men for this. You have absolutely no idea how this one little troublesome scavenger has been occupying my thoughts.” 

Din remains silent, simply holding out a hand, a wordless demand for payment. 

Your old boss grins, nods to a couple of lackeys to bring over the credits, hauls you to your feet by the back of your shirt. 

The Mandalorian’s hand brushes past your leg as you move, and one of your knives is quietly returned to its sheath. 

“Since you turned tail and ran so quickly after disobeying me, I assume you have some idea of what I do to clever little turncoats, don’t you?” sneers the Devaronian, leaning altogether too close for your liking. 

Your cuffed hands lower in seeming fear as you shrink beneath his intimidating glare. 

“This is going to be fun,” he threatens, a hand drawing up your neck and along your jaw. “You need to learn some respect, and I’m going to —” 

The vibroblade sunk deep into his chest cuts his words off rather suddenly. 

There’s a lot you can still do, even in binders. 

The outraged lackeys are swiftly dropped by precise shots from Din, and the two of you are left gazing at each other in a now oddly quiet room. 

“I don’t know if I’d call that ‘fun’," you remark to your limp ex-boss, crouching to retrieve your knife. “A little anticlimactic, actually. Bit of a shame I had to do that. But also satisfying to see your plan turn out so well, don’t you think, Mando?” 

Din doesn’t answer right away, tucking away the bounty that he earned by catching you. “We should be on our way,” is what he finally grunts. “There’ll be more gang members swarming this place any minute now.” 

“I agree.” Rising to stand in front of him, you hold out your arms expectantly, casting a flirty smile up at his dark visor. “And, much as I enjoyed being your prisoner for a day, you can let me go now.” 

There’s a long pause. 

He stares down at your bound wrists, up at your face, down at your wrists again. He appears to be pondering something very intently, and your breath turns a little choppy for some reason. 

“I don’t think I will,” he says simply, after a little more consideration. 

“You won’t?” 

“Not yet.” His large hands tenderly find your hips, and he throws you over his shoulder again, walking out the exact same way you came in. “You’ve caused me quite a day here, you know. Keeping track of you like this might be the only way to make sure we don’t run into any more trouble.” 

“What would happen if I screamed ‘Help, I’m being kidnapped!’ as you carry me down the street?” 

He snorts. “No one’s going to help you here, Cyar’ika. Who’s going to challenge a Mandalorian over his prisoner?” 

You smirk. “No one in their right mind.” 

“Besides, you just said you enjoyed this.” There it is, a sly edge to his filtered voice, the indicator that he has more going on in his mind than simply staying out of more trouble. 

“Oh no, caught by an attractive bounty hunter! I’ll probably never see the light of day again.” You groan dramatically and drape yourself a bit more comfortably as he loosens up into an easier stride. “I’m completely at his mercy — who KNOWS what devious things he’ll do to me behind closed doors?” 

“This bounty hunter is hot and tired, and in need of a shower, if that gives you any consolation.” 

“Ah.” You poke him in the back. “Are you saying you’re all sweaty under this shiny shell, Cyare?” 

A hand slides up the back of your thigh, a subtle reminder that you ARE currently at his mercy, as you just said. 

Undeterred, you try again, knowing he must be getting more riled up than he lets on. “Have I ever told you how much I like it, when you take all these awful layers off for me and you’re all sweaty underneath…?” 

“I would rein in my suggestive tongue a little, if I were you.” He’s still looking straight ahead, but the edge beneath his words is a bit more strained now. “If you behave for me until we get back to the ship, maybe I’ll even take those binders off.” 

“And if I don’t?” 

He sighs. “My belt compartment back there. Take a look.” 

You manage to get it open, and can’t quite stifle a delighted sound as you pull out the dolovite ring from much earlier. “You sneaky son of a — ! How — ?” 

“I gave you a two-minute head start,” he shrugs, by way of explanation. 

“I adore you,” you inform him as you slip the ring onto your finger, admiring its burnished color. “I’ll be a good little prisoner for you, Mando, I promise. And who knows…,” you nudge him again. “Maybe I’ll let you keep these binders on me after all, since you’ve been so good to me today.” 

He can’t find anything to say to that, but by the fact that you can see the flush creeping up the back of his neck in that tantalizing gap between cowl and helmet, you know he’s definitely sweating now, if he weren’t before. 

“Is my big bad bounty hunter at a loss for words?” you tease softly. 

He clears his throat. “Just saving my voice, Mesh’la. If you’re REALLY well-behaved, I might — possibly — be persuaded to talk Tusken to you later. Possibly.” 

The idea takes a moment to fully crystallize in your brain; Din, and a shower, and binders, and if you just stop teasing him so naughtily in public he might actually bring that unreasonably provocative language into the bedroom? 

You finally let yourself relax into his hold, and after a bit you hear his breathy sigh of relief that you aren’t going to keep tormenting him anymore for the moment. 

After all, he has put forth an offer you can’t refuse. 

Ad'ika = Little One/Small child

Cabur = Protector

[loveesiren]

𝖲𝗍𝖺𝗋𝖽𝗎𝗌𝗍 - 𝖢.𝖲. (𝖯𝗍. 3)

Disclaimer: Hate hate hate this chapter but some of y'all were getting mean so here is chapter 3. I think it's trash. My motivation has been shit lately so we'll see where this story goes.

Synopsis: Y/n runs away from her problems

Warnings: Language, heroin use, angst, 18+

Word Count: 2.8k+

Chris’s POV

I swear I was going to lose my fucking my mind in this tiny concrete room. I hadn’t even been in here for two hours and the anxiety was taking over. The cop sat at his desk, sipping his coffee loudly while watching a football game on a small tv that faced away from me. I was going to have to sit here until Monday morning and all I had to do was think. 

A million thoughts ran through my head. I’m sure Matt and Nick already called our parents and they were going to be pissed beyond belief. Luckily our podcast was pre-recorded but if I’m not out soon news is going to get around that I’m in here. But most of all, I thought about Y/n. She seemed so upset. I knew she was blaming herself for this and I prayed she wouldn’t do anything stupid. I know how vulnerable she can get when she’s down. But I know Matt and Nick will look out for her.

“Yo, don’t I get a phone call or something?” I asked the cop.

He responded with a long sigh, as if my question was making his entire job more difficult. I furrowed my brows at him, awaiting his response. “Fine.” He finally said. He got up and unlocked the cell door before leading me over to the phone. “You got two minutes, kid.”

I nodded and picked up the phone. I dialed Nick’s number, knowing he was most likely to answer.

“Hello?”

“Nick? Hey! It’s Chris!”

“Chris! Are you okay?!”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.” I responded. I could hear Matt in the background and Nick switched his phone to speaker.

“Chris, we'll bond you out first thing after your hearing on Monday! Mom and dad already hired a lawyer.” Matt said.

I sighed, knowing how disappointed they were going to be. “Cool. Cool. Uhhh can I talk to Y/n?”

Matt and Nick were both silent for a few moments. “Uhm…she’s not here…”

“Well where is she?”

“I’m not sure…”

I could hear the change in Nicks voice. Something was wrong. “What’s going on? Why are you talking like that?”

“Well…She uhm…Her and Matt kind of-”

“I kicked her out!”

“You did what?!”

“She’s always gotten you into trouble, Chris. I’m sick of it. I don’t want to see you ruin your life over her. I know you’re like in love with her or whatever but-”

“Go find her. Now!” I spat. “You don’t fucking understand, Matt. You don’t fucking understand what you did! Go find her and make sure she is fucking safe!”

“Chris, what do you mean?”

“Now!” I slammed the phone down on the receiver.

“Watch it!” The cop said. I bit my tongue and followed him back to my cell. 

I sat in the corner of the tiny bed and buried my head in my knees, trying to fight the tears threatening to spill from my eyes. I loved Y/n more than anything in the entire world and I knew her better than anyone. I was the only one who knew she experimented with opioids. I tried them with her but I noticed how she started using them to numb her pain and I quit. After having to Narcan her TWICE I made her promise to never touch them again. I threatened to tell her parents. I told her I would take her to rehab. She begged me not to. I know I should have but she swore to me she wouldn’t touch them again. I helped her through her withdrawals and over the last two years she’d been true to her word as far as I knew. I mean I was with her most of the time and never saw her use or act shady. But now I wasn’t there when she needed me and who knows what Matt said to her. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK! I couldn’t stop the tears from falling now. My whole body was shaking with anxiety.

Y/n’s POV

“Y/n! Y/N!” Danny yelled, kicking my foot. I jolted awake and struggled to see through blurred vision. I rubbed my eyes and slowly took in my surroundings as an overwhelming wave of nausea took over my body. 

“Ugh, what?” 

“Your phone’s been ringing non stop! Fucking answer it or turn it off. It’s annoying.”

I felt for my phone as previous events returned to my memory. Chris was arrested. I got in a fight with Matt. One thing led to the next and I somehow ended up at Danny’s house smacked out of my mind. I wasn’t proud of this. But remembering what Matt said to me, I felt like I was exactly where I needed to be. 

My phone started ringing again and I was able to find it between the cushions of Danny’s old, cigarette stained couch. The screen lit up with Matt’s name and I could feel the bile rising in my stomach. I ran to the bathroom and shut the door quickly behind me. I sat on the floor, heaving over the toilet, but not much came out. I can’t remember the last time I ate. I didn’t even know what day it was. I sat back and pulled out my phone. 13 missed calls from Matt and Nick combined. 5 from my mother along with three texts asking where I was. A missed call from an unknown number. To top it all off, it was 6:23 pm on Sunday. What the hell had happened in the last day and a half? 

I stood up and looked at myself in the mirror. My hair was a tangled mess, a stained crop top clung to my malnourished frame and a pair of baggy sweatpants (that didn’t belong to me) were tied tightly to my waist. I looked at the fresh track marks on my arm, a trail of dried blood leading halfway down my forearm. I was disappointed in myself. I promised Chris I would never go back to this. But it was too late now. I pulled my phone back out, ignoring all the messages from Matt and Nick and opening the text thread with my mom. I typed out a quick message. 

Hey mom, I’m fine. Haven’t been feeling great this weekend so I’ve been sleeping. Didn’t mean to worry you.

Not three seconds after I sent it, she was calling me. I sighed, really not in any head space to talk to her but I knew I was already on her last nerve so I took a deep breath and answered.

“Hello?” I definitely sounded sick.

“Y/n! Honey! Where are you?! Are you okay?!”

“I-I’m fine, mom. I’m at home. I’m just a little sick.”

“Nick and Matt said you weren’t at your house! They were just there!”

Fuck. Why the fuck had they come by?

“I just stepped out to get some medicine. I just got back.” I lied.

The lie seemed to calm her down a bit. “MaryLou told us what happened to Chris. We just wanted to make sure you were doing okay.” 

“Yeah, mom. I’m fine. Matt and Nick are going to bail him out tomorrow.” I felt nauseous again thinking about it. I didn’t know what to expect when Chris got out. I wasn’t great with confrontation and after the situation with Matt and relapsing with Danny, I didn’t really want to face Chris. “Uhm, mom, some friends asked me to go camping for a few days. So my service might be spotty.”

“I thought you were sick?”

“Yeah, I think it’s just like food poisoning or something. I should be better by tomorrow. But I’ll call you when I can, okay?”

“Y/n, are you sure you’re okay? If something is wrong you can tell us, we can come out there…”

“No, I’m fine mom. I promise. I’ll talk to you soon, okay? I love you!”

With that, I hung up on her and quickly exited the bathroom. “Danny, let’s go.”

“Go where?” He asked. 

“I-I don’t know. San Diego or something? I just need to get out of here before Chris gets out tomorrow?”

“Why? I thought you looooved him.” Danny mocked. “You’ve been mumbling about him non stop.” He sighed and sat back.

Danny liked you. That wasn’t a secret. He wasn’t bad looking. But he was a “bad boy”. His main job was drug dealing. He hung around with shady people, did shady shit, and hated on people like the Sturniolo’s for being in the public eye. Even though you were getting into your modeling career, Danny didn’t seem to care. You didn’t believe Danny’s feelings were deep. You didn’t believe Danny was capable of deep feelings or love. But you were hot and you had him wrapped around your finger.

“I-I can’t face Chris like this. I just want to get away from here. Please?” 

“My cousin has a condo down in Chula Vista. It’s right by the beach. I could call him.”

“Okay. I’m gonna run to my apartment and grab some things.”

I left Danny’s apartment, and ran up to mine. I grabbed a duffle bag from my closet and grabbed some clothes, a toothbrush, and some deodorant. The basic necessities. I was almost done packing when I heard a knock on my door. 

“Coming!” I said, assuming it was Danny. I threw my bag over my shoulder and made my way to the door. I swung it open, ready to go but stopped in my tracks when I saw Matt standing in front of me. 

“Going somewhere?” He asked.

It was hard to find my voice. My mind was a mess and my body was hurting. I needed a fix. “Uhm- Camping. With some friends.”

“Camping with friends. What friends?” Matt asked, stepping into my apartment now. 

“Just some friends. You don’t know them.” It was somewhat true. Nick and Matt didn’t know Danny. Hence why they couldn’t find me earlier. But lying to my mom about camping with friends was one thing. She didn’t know my social circle out here. Chris, Nick, and Matt on the other hand, pretty much were my social circle. We shared the same friends. If I really was to go camping with friends, chances are they’d be coming too. 

“Look, Y/n. I’m sorry for what I said yesterday…I was just upset and it was wrong of me to blame it on you.” I didn’t know how to respond so I just looked to the floor. “Chris is really going to want to see you tomorrow and-” He stopped, noticing my arms. He grabbed my wrist and yanked my arm into view. “Y/n, what the fuck happened to your arms?! Have you been shooting up?!”

“Ready to go, Princess? My cousin said-” Danny appeared in my doorway. “Well look what the cat dragged in.” Danny said with his skeezy smile. 

Matt looked him up and down before looking back at me. Danny had on tight jeans with chains and a sleeveless band shirt. He reeked of cigarette smoke and I knew Matt was judging me.

“This is who you’re going camping with?” Matt asked.

“Look, I gotta go…” I said pushing past Matt and locking my door. 

“So you’re just going to dip out on Chris?” Matt asks. “Come on Y/n. You’re better than this guy!”

“Excuse me?” Danny asks, turning to face Matt. I step in front of Danny, putting my hand on his chest. 

“Matt. You said it yourself. I’m no good for Chris…” 

“Y/n, I didn’t mean-”

“It’s fine. I gotta go. Take care of him, okay?” 

With that, I grabbed Danny’s hand and pulled him along with me down to his car to avoid any further conversation with Matt. I noticed his van with Nick inside sitting in the parking lot. He looked confused. I looked away and climbed into Danny’s car, urging him to drive away. 

Danny offered me a cigarette and I took it. Remaining quiet as I sparked it. He didn’t ask questions. But he did place his hand on my knee as he drove. “You don’t need them, Princess. I’ll take care of you.”

The words made my stomach twist into a knot. I wanted Chris. But Matt was right. I didn’t deserve him. I was exactly where I deserved to be. “You got any more dope?” 

“Gonna pick some up on our way, don’t worry.” He smiled at me. I attempted a half ass smile as I bit back the urge to cry. I looked down at my phone, studying the photo of me and Chris I had set as my wallpaper. It was a silly photo of us in highschool. We were both laughing, I was on Chris’s back as he ran down the hall with me. It was a time in my life I was truly happy. 

I shut my phone off and threw it in my bag, focusing on the world passing by through the window of Danny’s old BMW. I knew this wasn’t the right move but I was never good at confronting my problems and the promise of an escape and drugs was enough to leave LA and Chris behind me.

Chris’s POV

I sat silently while the judge went over my charges. Cameron Jacobs and his family sat and watched with smug looks on their faces. Matt and Nick sat on the opposite side of the courtroom, ready to bail me out. I was disappointed when they showed up without Y/n. 

The judge set my bond to $5,000 and gave me another court date. By noon, I was gathering my things and climbing into the van. Nick was hounding me with questions while Matt remained relatively quiet. 

“So where’s Y/n?” I asked, no longer wanting to think about the trouble I was in or the fact that I would have to call my parents when I got home and get my ass chewed out, or the fact that we were out five grand. “Why didn’t she come?” My voice cracked.

Nick looked at Matt, seeing if he would admit what happened. Matt remained silent. “Matt…”

“Where is she, Matt?” I asked. 

“Look Chris-”

“No tell me the fucking truth! It’s your fault she fucking left in the first place. Where is she?!”

Matt sighed. “I went to her place last night. She left with some sleaze bag. Said she was going camping…” 

“Dude with combat boots, covered in shitty tattoos, smelled like cigarettes?” I asked.

“Yeah.” 

“Danny.” I hissed. He was such a piece of shit. Always trying to get in Y/n’s pants. He was a slimy drug dealer and now she was God knows where with him. 

“She had, uhm…she had track marks on her arms…” Matt said. 

I tried to take a deep breath but I was beyond livid. “Pull over.” I said as calmly as I could. 

“What? Why?” Nick asked.

“Pull the fucking car over!” 

Matt did as I asked and I climbed out, slamming the door behind me before walking off down the street. 

“Chris! Where are you going?!” Matt asked as him and Nick chased after me. I really didn’t want to be near him right now.

“Fuck off, Matt!” 

“You have to fucking talk to me, man!” He said, grabbing my shoulder and forcing me to look at him. I pushed him off of me and Nick was quick to catch him before he fell. 

“This is your fucking fault!” I yelled. “Why the fuck would you say those things to her, Matt? She’s been our best friend our whole lives! This is your fucking fault!”

“I was just looking out for you! It’s not my fault she’s a drug addict, man!”

I threw myself at Matt, punching him in the eye. He fought back but it didn’t last long before Nick was separating us. 

“Stop it! What the hell is the matter with you guys?!” Nick yelled. “Chris, you just got out of jail for fucking assault. Beating up your own brother isn’t going to get you anywhere! And Matt, you were wrong for what you said to Y/n. But we aren’t going to find her if you end up back in jail and don’t work together. So both of you get in the fucking car and let’s go home and figure something out.”

As much as I hated Matt right now, Nick was right. All I really cared about was finding Y/n and I was going to need help doing that. I climbed back into the car silently and endured the ride home. I had tried texting and calling Y/n earlier but it went straight to voicemail. I typed out one more text. 

Y/n, please be okay. I’m so worried about you. Fuck whatever Matt said. You mean everything to me. Please just text me back when you get this so I know you’re okay. I love you…

Tags:@strniohoeee@daisysturniolo.@justangelheree@flowerxbunnie@recklesssturniolo@lustfulslxt@mangosrar@bluesturniolo333@christinarowie332@kenzieiskoolaid@sturniolopepsi@mattenthusiast@ilovecrazymen@sturnphilia@poopydroopt@miaakenn

[littlejuicebox]

Mindwinter Carol 6 / The Affliction

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x Female Elf Sorceress OC

Word Count: 2.7K

Story navigation: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6]

Summary/Setting: Based on the prologue/premise from my OneShot "A Midwinter Carol."

Astarion and the OC broke up after his ascension. She left Baldur's Gate for fifteen years, only to return just recently. Following the events of "A Midwinter Carol," Ascended Astarion has been convinced to pursue a new beginning. Will he be able to change who he has become, with the help of his ex-lover? Or will he ultimately fall victim to his pride and desire for power?

Preview:

He’s weak, slow, moody… and above all, he’s hungry. His hunger makes it difficult to sleep.  Eirianwen knows this. She knows he’s struggling. So every night she traces her fingers along his scalp and hums an old Elvish lullaby until he’s fallen into a trance beside her.  When Astarion wakes in the night his hands always search for her, desperate to pull her close. And she is always there.  * He remembers how easy and instinctual it had been to reach for Ani all those years ago.  But now, the Ascendant cannot even bring himself to hold her hand as she trances through the worst parts of the poison’s wrath, forced into a slumber by Jaheira.

Warnings: This will be 18+ / in game spoilers / Eventual Smut / Angst, trauma, fluff / Gore

-----

“You don’t remember anything about your family, Astarion?” 

Nighttime seemed eerily quiet in the Shadowlands; no animals or insects rustle in the barren woods and even the breeze is stunted in this horrifying, lightless place. The low, constant hum of Karlach’s snoring is the only background noise in camp. 

Eirianwen is perched in Astarion’s lap, facing him, her warm limbs coiled around his torso like vines around a tree trunk as he rests his head in the crook of her neck and breathes in the scent of her skin. She smells both crisp and sweet, like fresh fallen snow. The scent clings to his shirt even when they’re apart; a constant reminder of his attachment to the woman. 

Their nighttime activities have consisted of nothing more than cuddles and pillow talk for weeks and yet she’s still here. 

Astarion still doesn’t fully understand why. 

He pauses, searching through the blurred, fractured memories. Most are smattered with hundreds of faces he’s crossed along the way; almost all of the faces are discomforting.  He’s hoping, despite the answer he already knows, for any sign of someone that could be his mother. His father. A sibling, perhaps? 

Nothing. It’s always nothing. 

“No, Ani. I’ve told you before, darling. I don’t have a single solid memory from my past prior to… him. Just vague, fuzzy pieces I cannot associate with a time nor place.” He sighs, his tone betraying his frustration as he nuzzles his head into the sorceress’s nimble hand, searching for comfort. She idly trails her fingers through his silvery curls, lightly scratching his scalp. 

She hums softly but doesn’t say more on the topic. She knows when to stop pushing him. He loves that about her.

He thinks he loves her. He still hasn’t said it. 

“Ready for bed?” Eirianwen asks with a soft peck to his cheek, and Astarion simply nods in response. He’s often much quieter when he’s not in front of the others; when he doesn’t have to perform. 

She climbs off the male elf and quickly settles into the bedroll before patting the space next to her with an adorable, sleepy smile. He settles in next to the sorceress and she resumes running her fingers through his hair. Astarion is sure it’s incredibly disheveled by now, but in front of only Ani’s warm golden eyes, he doesn’t care. 

The Shadowlands have been torturous. The vampire spawn has yet to catch a single living creature out here, and he refuses to drink from Ani more than once every three days, despite her protests. He jokes they can’t both be operating at suboptimal levels or the group would simply fall apart.

They can manage without him, he knows this. He also knows that, like him, they can’t manage without Ani. 

He’s weak, slow, moody… and above all, he’s hungry. His hunger makes it difficult to sleep. 

Eirianwen knows this. She knows he’s struggling. So every night she traces her fingers along his scalp and hums an old Elvish lullaby until he’s fallen into a trance beside her. 

When Astarion wakes in the night his hands always search for her, desperate to pull her close. And she is always there. 

*

He remembers how easy and instinctual it had been to reach for Ani all those years ago. 

But now, the Ascendant cannot even bring himself to hold her hand as she trances through the worst of the poison’s wrath, forced into slumber by Jaheira. The average course of Delilah’s prior torture toxins had always been between three to five days. Most people give up their secrets after that. The ones that don’t undergo a second round of poison, and most of those unfortunate souls die; their bodies simply give up on them. 

He’s sitting in a plush wingback chair not more than a few feet from Eirianwen, staring at the old metal ring he’d slipped onto her finger before rushing her to the Palace. True Love’s Caress and True Love’s Embrace. Two physical symbols of twisted, tainted love. 

How fitting. 

Though, this time around, he’s the shield and she’s the ward. 

In the Shadowlands, when they first found the rings, it had been the other way around. Ani had insisted upon this particular arrangement because without regular sustenance, the vampire had been weak and sluggish. In his mind, he’d been useless. And the sorceress had refused to wear the matching rings otherwise, ultimately forcing his hand. Despite the fact Astarion hadn’t yet told her he loved her, he wanted everyone to know she was well and truly taken.

Fifteen years ago she was his. He was hers. 

Now the vision of the beautiful, silvery-blue haired elven woman in his bed is entirely unfamiliar and he attempts, and yet consistently fails, to sleep in the adjacent office. 

*

The Ascendant lounges idly on a velvet upholstered bench in a well-appointed room of Sharess’ Caress. A golden goblet dangles through his slender fingers as he surveys the salacious scene in front of him. 

The Drow twins are there, as well as three other workers, all engaged in different aspects of bacchanalia. It’s been just over six months since Ani’s been gone; he rents this room and pays for this show nearly every weekend, mostly as a distraction. Astarion only watches, never engages.

He isn’t sleeping well, if at all. He thought performing the rite would make the nightmares cease, but the moment Eirianwen packed her bags and left the palace he was haunted by the visions. Many of them were of Cazador; many were of Ani. Both were tortuous in their own ways.

Every time the Ascendant looks at his still-unfamiliar visage in the mirror, the bags under his eyes appear deeper than before. 

Delilah enters the room with another bottle of wine and a sumptuous spread of mixed fruit and chocolates on a platter. Her straight silver hair is twisted into ornate braids and she is nowhere near as skimpily dressed as the other workers. The half-elf elegantly places the tray in front of Astarion and then pauses to watch the debauched scene before her with mild interest. Sorn is in the middle of performing his Menzoberranzan Love Trick. 

“I don’t pay you to stand there and stare.” Astarion warns snidely as he pops open the second bottle of wine and assesses the woman through judgmental scarlet eyes. 

Delilah emits a haughty laugh in response as she turns her hazel gaze to examine the elf, wholly unphased by the Ascendant in front of her, “You don’t pay me at all, my Lord. I assure you, I’m far too expensive for you to have had the pleasure.” 

She saunters away before the vampire can counter, and he stews at the insult for the remainder of the night, far too distracted by Delilah to appreciate any of the worker’s finales. What a waste.

A few days later, he enquires Mamzell Amira, the owner of Sharess’ Caress, about Delilah, intending to purchase her services solely to prove a point. He’d been ruminating over the insult for days. 

Astarion is informed that the half-elf is a shapeshifter and her lowest rates for different experiences are already three times as high as the next highest paid employee of the brothel. Now that, the Ascendant mused… that was interesting. He could use her services.

Perhaps in more ways than one. 

*

Edmund is held in the dungeons underneath the palace; convincing Wyll to leave the bastard here had been no easy task. But shortly after downing Edmund, the Duke had been called off to another emergency in the lower city, a riot of some sort, and he’d ultimately relented. Nowadays, the Blade’s dedication and loyalty always remained directed at the city. Even his closest friends, his precious Eirianwen, came second to duty.

Astarion is quite aware he has to interrogate the foreign, piece of shit spawn, but he cannot be more than sixty feet away from Ani or the enchantments on the ring cease to work. Plus, a few days without nourishment makes one more inclined to spill their most disgusting secrets. He knows this far too well. 

The silver-haired Lord is signing some documents for his steward, Pascal. The love of his life is in a forced trance the next room over, and yet business must go on and money must be made. His control over the city had already slipped since he and Delilah went their separate ways a few years back; he cannot let past-due documents be his final undoing. 

The rules of bureaucracy are asinine, but in many ways – far more than he likes – Astarion is still forced to follow them. What is the point of being an all-powerful Ascendant when you still have to dance around nobles and patriars, relentlessly pretending you’re part of a society you do not give a single shit about? 

The elf sucks in a sharp breath and abruptly clenches the quill in hand as a burning sensation courses through his system. It feels like pure acid in his veins. The pain emerges from the thin band on his index finger and shoots up his arm in an arc before circling itself around his body, as if following the course of his blood circulation.

It’s truly agonizing. But as the Ascendant, neither a surge of fire through his veins nor the effects of Delilah’s poisons are as potent as they would be on a mortal. He’s certain the rings are not completely doing away with Ani’s suffering, he can see the discomfort strewn across her face, even as she trances. But between the forced slumber and the ring’s enchantments, they’re saving her from the worst of it. 

He hopes. 

Pascal collects the newly signed piles of scrolls and then hands a small folded note of parchment, sealed with red wax, to Astarion. The Ascendant drinks a simple healing potion in order to combat the effects of the ring.

“This arrived just now, as well, my Lord.” The human male, with eyes just a bit too wide and a scar running along his face murmurs. Pascal had been the elf’s first hire when he took over the palace fifteen years ago. Back then, the man had been a spry thirty-something; now Pascal is a graying human approaching middle age. He’d unfortunately rejected Astarion’s offer to become a spawn.

Seems immortality is not as alluring as one might think. Pity, though. Pascal had proven to be quite useful over the years.

Jaheira appears in the doorway of Astarion’s office. It’s clear she’s quite uncomfortable within these walls, but she’s continuing on for Eirianwen. The druid purses her lips and meets the gaze of the Vampire Lord, “There’s been a new development.” 

Astarion leaves the small folded piece of parchment strewn upon his desk and Umber curled sleeping on a cushion underneath it. 

*

“You will regret leaving me… more than anything else you live to regret.”

They are sitting across from one another in their old booth at the Elfsong, a few weeks after their break up. He’d been positive this meeting was called because the sorceress wanted to reconcile. The Ascendant thought he would make her grovel a bit, but then ultimately take her back. Astarion had to punish her, if only just, to ensure she never considered such a ridiculous stunt ever again.

But instead, Ani told him she was leaving the city and going to meet Halsin in Reithwin. Astarion is convinced this is an intentional goad from the elven woman, some sort of manipulation on her end. He said what he did in a pitiful attempt to goad her in return. 

Eirianwen tips her chin up pridefully as she smoothly stands from the table and evaluates the Vampire Ascendant. He feels his fingers instinctively flex with nerves as he watches her. Ani is far too calculated and far too unemotional as she glosses her eyes across his face looking for… something, though he still doesn’t fully understand what. In this final, painstaking moment, the male elf realizes this is truly the end between them. She is done. He almost retches on the spot but his pride forces him to shove the visceral reaction down.

“You’re nothing like the man I fell in love with anymore. I don’t know who you are. I hope you find the pieces of him still within you, someday.”

She would regret leaving him, that much was true. But Astarion would regret letting her go far more.

*

When Jaheira and Astarion enter the room, Ani is drenched in sweat and speaking in strings of broken Elvish as old memories flicker through her mind. In the moments Astarion had spent sitting at her side, the sorceress mentioned someone named Calinion more than once. The Ascendant assumes it’s a lover from her travels and the thought makes his skin crawl; he desires to know nothing more about the man and therefore ignores most of her mutterings.

Astarion’s garnet-colored eyes immediately notice the marred flesh of Eirianwen’s right hand. Small pinprick ulcers are beginning to form along her inner arm; parts of her smooth, vitiligo-patched skin are turning black. It’s starkest against the spots on her arms where her depigmentation has made the skin almost as pale as his own. 

Her vitiligo was beautiful. The appearance of this affliction was anything but.

Astarion had never witnessed this from any of Delilah’s previous concoctions. But the changeling was known to experiment with new tinctures quite often; she excelled at torture and seemed to delight in finding new, innovative ways to inflict pain. It had been one of the many reasons the Ascendant had remained involved with her for years; she’d been an excellent informant. 

“Necrosis.” Jaheira explains, her voice clinical but grave, as she brings a plush towel to Ani’s face and dabs at bits of sweat along the sorceress’s brow, “I suspect that, despite the rings, this poison — or curse, perhaps — isn’t targeting you because as an undead, nevermind an Ascendant, you are highly resistant. Try as it might, it cannot touch you. But it has to enact its damage somewhere.” 

“There must be something you can do.” Astarion responds, brow furrowing as he takes the cloth from Jaheira’s hands and gently resumes the task, mostly to distract himself. He’s angry, and frustrated, but he tempers all of it down because Jaheira is his — their — only hope. 

As the vampire blots along the sorceress’s face, his eyes focus on the small patch of vitiligo underneath her left eye. He wants nothing more than to bend over and press a gentle kiss atop it.

If true love’s kiss were more than a silly notion in a child’s fairy tale, he would have kissed her already. 

“If there were anything I could do, I would have done it by now. But as you said yourself, Delilah’s concoctions are unlike anything we have seen. The remnants along Eirianwen’s wound contain highly unfamiliar ingredients; your old paramour must source them from quite far.” Jaheira murmurs and then sighs dejectedly, “The most I can do is try to limit the spread. But even my magic and medicinals are struggling to compete against this… atrocity. The poison should be out of her system in another day or two; the most we can hope is that it simply runs the rest of its course with minimal damage.”

Astarion twitches his fingers as he assesses the ill elven woman in his bed. 

“I would not think about turning her now, Astarion.” Jaheira warns, reading the Ascendant’s mind as his eyes roam across the sleeping sorceress’ face, “She would never forgive you, and you’re risking Eirianwen remaining frozen, damaged like this for all eternity. Is that what you want? And more importantly, is that what she would want?” 

Astarion inhales a slow, contemplative breath. Moments of silence pass between the two conscious beings in the room and then the male elf simply responds, “No.” 

Jaheira isn’t sure which question he’s answering. She hopes it’s both.

He leaves the bedchambers without another word. Enough is enough. The Ascendant may not be able to travel down the several flights of stairs to the dungeons, but Edmund can be brought to him. Some of the worst things that ever happened to Astarion occurred in the many halls and rooms of this palace, rather than in the dungeons themselves. Cazador found ways to torture and punish his spawn no matter where they were.

Astarion is certain he can do far worse than Cazador ever did to the bastard responsible for Eirianwen’s affliction in the first place. Because unlike Cazador, the Ascendant has little reason to keep this fucker presentable. Or alive, for that matter.

Edmund will not remain tight-lipped for long. 

*

Special thank you to my friend and lore queen @chickywickers for telling me the owner of the brothel is, in fact, not Sharess. Edited to fix. 😊

[svltzmans]

she's just not into you - r.b.

robin buckley x fem!lesbian!reader

steve has been looking at y/n y/l/n for months, to no avail. she just seems to have no interest, even with steve's kind gestures. he doesn't understand why. robin does.

a/n:

hi!! omg this is the first time i'm ever writing something like this! i hope someone sees it and likes it lol :) pls ignore any grammar mistakes i tried my best!!

"i can't believe you managed to score a date with the hottest girl in all of hawkins after my millions of failed attempts", steve remarks, his hands running through his almost-too-long coffee-colored locks. "you've seen it! she just isn't into me at all."

"well, you're not exactly tom cruise or anything", robin responds sarcastically, still lugging her trumpet case from the pep rally.

"tom cruise probably couldn't even pull y/n y/l/n anyway."

"but i could."

"don't remind me!"

the two best friends continue down the halls of hawkins high, robin's heart still pounding remembering what she had managed to pull off minutes prior.

she has a date. a real one.

with y/n y/l/n.

she feels like she'll always remember the exact moment y/n's lips lifted into a smile as she accepted her offer.

the hawkins high pep rally was one of robin's least favorite events of the year.

she loved playing the trumpet. she actually really did.

but playing it in front of her high school full of judgemental jocks and cheerleaders wasn't quite her speed.

nonetheless, she knew she would get to see y/n y/l/n in the crowd. and that made her confidently apply a little extra makeup in steve's car, despite the background noise of steve's babbling.

robin's heartbeat kicked up the second steve pulled into the hawkins high parking lot. she scanned the crowd, but caught no sight of the girl she wanted to see.

that was, until she stepped into the stuffy gym and began to ascend the bleachers.

"robin!", a familiar voice sang.

"oh, y/n! hi!"

"i'm excited to hear you play. i'll be right near the band section!"

those words make robin's stomach start to twist.

"i'll make sure to play as best as i can then!"

y/n laughs in a way that makes robin's cheeks flush a red so deep it's almost maroon.

"oh, y/n, i wanted to ask you a question actually."

oh god, it's happening.

"what's up, robin?"

it's actually happening.

"can you meet me below the bleachers at the end of the pep rally?"

robin's heart pounds while she waits for a response. sure, y/n doesn't know her plans, at least not yet. but simply the thought of her and y/n in privacy makes her feel nervous.

"yeah! i'll meet you there!"

robin simply smiles genuinely, nods, and starts the short walk to the band section of the bleachers.

the pep rally flies by in a blur. robin almost forgets the songs she has to play countless times, her mind only focused on what she wanted to say to y/n.

finally, the student population starts to file out of the gym, and robin makes her way to the bottom of the bleachers. to her surprise, y/n is already standing there, leaning against the wall.

"hey rob!"

the nickname sends a chill down robin's spine.

"y/n! you beat me here!"

"i couldn't keep the best trumpet player in hawkins waiting."

robin's face falls flush again, her hands nervously folded in front of her.

"i guess i'm okay. lots of practice."

"no, robin, you're really good at it. i know a pep rally is supposed to be about school spirit and whatever other bullshit, but i was watching you play. and trying to listen despite how loud everything was."

robin is shaken by how genuine y/n sounds. she knew y/n was kind. she had just never experienced it this personally.

she knows she can't hesitate any longer.

"y/n, do you wanna maybe go get a coffee with me tomorrow? after school?"

she had done it. she had asked one of the most coveted girls at hawkins high on a date.

countless hawkins boys had asked y/n out. robin had even witnessed some of the rejections y/n had dished out, noting the guilty look on the girl's face.

and steve was right. he had tried, quite a few different times. y/n was always kind to him, but never in a more than platonic way. he didn't understand why. had he done something wrong?

"of course i will, robs. that sounds like a lot of fun."

robin then understood why.

[stay-dazed]

stray kids as dads 2

notes: female reader, married. all the children are the same age as the last post, these are just extra scenarios :) i'm sorry if any seem rushed.

chan: you’re so thankful that chan has the week off. not only do you get to spend quality time with your loving husband, but you also get to focus on specific things around the house that you just couldn’t before with most of your attention on taime. today chan’s picking him up from school which gives you the chance to clean under the kitchen sink for the first time in a little while.

and that’s how you find out that you’re completely out of mopping solution, which is what you were planning on doing next. well.. you could just hop in your car and head to the supermarket a couple blocks down to get what you need… or you could just call chan who’s already out and ask him to pick it up.

“hey baby, what’s up?” chan hasn’t changed his nickname for you since you both started dating 10 years ago now. He almost sounds exactly the same.

“hi mama!!” a little voice calls in the background.

a smile spreads across your face. “hi boys! oh i miss both my boys so much!”

chan chuckles and asks,” is that why you called? you miss us too much?”

you respond,” well yes but actually no. we're out of mopping solution and i wanted to mop today. could you pick some up on your way back, please?”

“of course baby!” chan answers happily,” we love going on side quests for our girl, don’t we taime?”

you hear taime excitedly agree from the backseat where he sits strapped in his carseat, and your heart grows just a little bit bigger. you stay on the phone to listen to your boys talk excitedly about the errand they’re running together.

"hey baby, do you want some i-c-e c-r-e-a-m? i'll get some and we can have it later tonigh- huh? it's nothing son, don't worry about it."

minho: minho is the most reliable and responsible man you’ve ever known. and your errand run will only keep you out of the house for about an hour at most. how bad can they be?

that’s what you said to yourself, until you got back home that is.

various toys strewn about on the floor, which isn’t uncommon, but added to that mess is a bunch of little white feathers coming from a pillow that’s popped open, having stood no chance against the pillow fight of the century. you meant to toss that old pillow out but apparently forgot to do so.

your attention is pulled away from the scene of the crime by a soft meow coming from doongie. he has a little decorative hair tie wrapped around his tail, and of course a tiny pink kiss mark on his forehead. you wonder if it’s too late to just slowly walk back out the door…

two pairs of twinkling eyes stare back at you from the couch, caught red-handed. you’ve always adored how jimin had her appa’s eyes. “looks like you two had fun while i was gone..”

“mommy!!” jimin says while running to you, pink paint still fresh on her fingertips.

you scoop her up in your arms, careful to not get any of the paint on yourself. “hi baby,” you say to her while wiping some crumbs from her last snack off of her face. minho continues watching you, a little hair tie slowly slipping out of his hair.

“i didn’t expect you to be back so soon,” he says,” um… i’ll clean this up.”

“i know you will,” you say and walk over to kiss his cheek. “thank you for watching her, honey. you’re a very good daddy.”

"i don't even know what happened. everything was just a blur of pink."

changbin: changbin is a strong man by every definition of the word, but when it comes to nari he’s an absolute pushover. that’s how the three of you ended up here, in a humble little pet store in town.

you stroll through a few aisles lined with tanks that house little critters, like hamsters and chinchillas. you and changbin follow nari's lead, occasionally remarking to each other about how cute the animals are.

but once you come across the reptile section, changbin is notably less happy. poor thing. you don’t mind reptiles yourself, but changbin is more wary of them. as well as insects, bats, amphibians, fish, some species of bird, and basically anything that isn’t fluffy.

“daddy look!” nari exclaims when she comes across the last case on this aisle, “lookit this one!” her hands are pressed to the glass, her eyes filled with excitement.

hesitantly, changbin makes his way over to her and kneels down to her height. “what is it, honey?”

a leopard gecko is what it is. a young one judging by the size of it. it’s a cute little thing, napping on a rock in its enclosure. and changbin is looking at it like he’s staring death itself in the face. “that’s.. that's very nice, sweetheart.”

“can we get it, daddy?” nari looks up at him with those sparkling eyes.

oh no.

changbin can’t look away from her puppy eyes and within seconds, he caves. with a sigh he says,” alright..” he looks at you, a defeated man.

you smile at him before adding,” remember baby, he's not a toy. we all need to do our part in taking special care of him so that he's happy and healthy.” nari nods excitedly.

so here you are, heading to the front of the shop to find an employee for help. you glance at changbin and note his distraught face. fighting back a smile you say,” well, at least you’re not allergic to geckos.

"y/n i don't think you understand, this is scarier than anything i've ever experienced in my life. even auditioning for jyp."

hyunjin: art has been a part of hyunjin’s life for years now. it adds meaning and emotion and thought. he’s tried various forms of media but found a safe place in painting. ocean landscapes, flowers, and you are his favorite things to paint, along with his new favorite: his dear joon.

you approach the art room with a glass of plum juice and a small plate of rice snacks in hand, something to give hyunjin a bit of energy while he works. you step into the room just as he’s adding a bit of color to a simple sketch of joon, regularly glancing over at her as she sleeps soundly in her cot that he put in the room with him for the time being.

“how’s it going darling?” you ask while placing the glass and plate on the desk next to him. you lean in to look closer at his work over his shoulder. of course it looks amazing. you wouldn’t expect anything less. the picture he captured is perfect, the lines soft and round, just as she is.

he sniffs and brushes some hair out of his face with the back of his hand. there’s specks of paint on his cheek and the tip of his nose. “it’s going well. she has such beautiful features, i feel compelled to paint her again and again.”

“mmm…” you hum in agreement and place a kiss on his cheek.

hyunjin basks in the warmth of your affection. he turns to you, his lips arched gently upward and his eyes adoring. you share his smile, your body leaning down in order to place another kiss to his lips.

a loud cry fills the air.

you and hyunjin pause and look at each other for a moment, then giggle together. hyunjin gets up from his desk and picks joon up out of her cot, holding her safely in his arms where he sways her gently in hopes to soothe her.

you walk over and reach to put the pacifier back in her mouth, calming her cries rather quickly. “i fear she’s going to be just as dramatic as you are, darling.”

"and? you say that like it's a bad thing."

jisung: jisung got a lot of well-deserved sleep on the first couple days of his week-long vacation, leaving him open to tons of fun today with his favorite little boy.

to start off the day, junseo has a yummy breakfast of juice, yogurt, and fruit slices while you and jisung settle on having the rest of last night’s leftovers. junseo’s face has a few lines of yogurt on it and his hands are sticky from the fruit. this is what happens when you let him feed himself as he insisted.

jisung looks at his boy and stifle's a laugh. “honey, look at him,” he says, his cheeks puffy with food,” isn’t he so cute?”

you giggle and reach over with your napkin to wipe junseo off as thoroughly as you can before he wiggles out of your grip. “adorable,” you agree.

junseo looks back and forth between the two of you and flashes a big smile, chewed up bits of fruit stuck between the gaps of his little baby teeth. normally you find chewed food disgusting (jisung makes sure to remind you of that fact often), but it’s just too cute when your baby boy does it, in all his glee.

jisung laughs out loud this time, and reaches over to gently pinch junseo’s chubby little cheek that closely resembles his own.

"the gene runs strong in the family. yes i am very proud of it, thank you for noticing."

felix: felix absolutely loves to swim, and he wanted more than anything to have theo love it just as much. but unfortunately, due to his smaller size, theo can’t swim yet. so he has an iffy feeling about the water. and as any good father would, felix tries his best to help him.

he fastens some floaties snugly to theo’s arms, trying to uplift him with encouraging words. “you got this, teddy bear." you reach over to rub a bit more sun screen on theo’s button nose.

“you won’t let me go, right daddy?” he looks up at felix with wide eyes.

“i won’t let go teddy, i promise.”

once theo is all prepped, felix begins to step into the plastic kiddie pool with theo sat securely on his hip. he enters slowly, the water coming up gradually to reach theo's elbows. the little guy keeps a strong grip around his daddy's neck, watching the water intensely.

“you’re okay baby, you’re doing such a great job,” you say from the pool ladder, smiling in excitement and pride.

theo looks at you nervously, then back at his daddy. felix smiles at him,” how’re you doing, son? do you like the feeling of the water? it’s nice when it’s hot out, right?”

with his free arm, felix scoops a bit of water into his cupped hand and lets it carefully drip down his son’s head and back. theo blinks quickly, adjusting to the odd feeling. that’s when you get an idea.

suddenly water is splashed in their direction, soaking felix’s back and successfully avoiding theo completely. felix turns to look at you, while theo looks up at him. you try but fail to hold back a growing smile. there's a moment of silence and stillness before theo smacks his hand into the water so that it sprays, getting felix in the face this time.

the backyard fills with laughter.

"well, at least he's not afraid of touching the water anymore."

seungmin: you leave the room of the party just a couple hours into it, feeling too drowsy to keep up the energy. the sound of belle singing and crayons on paper fade into the background as you reach the bedroom and find comfort in the bed’s soft blankets. seungmin doesn't mind that you sneak off to take naps when you need them. after all, you deserve it after the care you put into the home while he's at work.

so you expect to have a quick power nap on your own before joining your husband and daughter again. you slip under the comforter of your bed, feeling your body relax, your muscles slowly un-tensing. and just as you’re about to drift off, you feel the bed dip slightly. you open your eyes and blink the bleariness away.

“hi mama,” chin-sun whispers. she crawls under the comforter with you and cuddles against your side. sometimes you forget that she knows how to climb onto the ottoman and therefore onto the bed.

“hi baby,” you mumble, holding her close. hopefully she'll just end up napping with you.

the two of you lay together in silence for a couple minutes, and luckily chin-sun doesn't get rowdy. in fact her breathing starts to even out. little princess must’ve been running low on energy too. you once again feel yourself start to drift off.

then the bed dips once again, this time behind you.

you don’t even open your eyes this time. you lay still, feeling the comforter adjust and a pair of strong arms wrap around you warmly, securely. seungmin’s familiar scent is so comforting, his rhythmic breathing relaxing.

you crack your eyes open momentarily to see that the arm seungmin has wrapped around you reaches chin-sun. he rubs circles on her back with his thumb, slowing down gradually as he begins dozing off himself. his nose tickles slightly as it presses into your hair. finally, with your little family snuggled together, you fall asleep.

"sleep well, my precious girls.."

jeongin: jeongin has always been the type to do what he calls “shopping therapy”. a new necklace or pair of shoes, a small lego set to put together, or even just a basket-full of his favorite snacks. and once haneul came along, he had an even better excuse to get all these fun things.

of course he doesn’t overspend, he is a responsible father after all. but not everything he gets is necessary perse. like the stuffed fox taking your son’s place in his stroller and the bright butterfly painted on jeongin’s face. the sight catches you off guard. you walk up to them, having been separated in the mall for only 20 minutes.

haneul is obviously following in his papa’s footsteps in becoming the biggest stuffie collector you’ve ever seen. you don’t even think this one will fit on his little bed with all the others. and the face painting.. you can't tell if this is random or completely expected of jeongin.

“wow,” you say once you reach them,” looks like you two have been having fun."

haneul bounces in excitement, making it difficult for jeongin to keep a grip on his tiny hand. “papa! ‘im papa!” he’s points at the fox stuffie, looking between it and you.

“ohhh,” you nod in understanding,” did papa get that for you? that’s so nice hannie. and look at you, walking next to papa like a big boy!”

jeongin smiles. “we stopped by a toy store on our way back, and well, i couldn’t not get the fox for him.”

“and the butterfly?” “they were having free face painting today.” “ah.”

"so what if it was mainly children getting face paintings? having fun is not a crime, y/n."

[sofasoap]

Death, comes easily.

Pairing: Simon " Ghost" Riley x f!Reader/OC ( aka "Mini" MacTavish )

Summary: The threat never stops. Inspired by the piccadilly circus mission.

Warning : Mature theme, Violence, swearing. Angst. open ending ( possible happy ending? if you want. )

A/N : I had this idea while commuting to work, and wrote it within 20 minutes before seeing my first patient. I just had to get it out. So expect lots of mistakes. English isn't my first language. You are responsible for your own media consumption. Turn back now if you don't like it.

Character of Mini MacTavish is from @saltofmercury fic " “The Favorite MacTavish” " which she graciously let me borrow and write bit more expanded universe. Please go read her wonderful story to get bit of background. Thank you for leading me your character.

"masterlist" for more stories to this Mini MacTavish expanded verse.

You woke up with blurred vision and pounding headache.

Blinking rapidly, trying to get a better look at your surrounding. There's carnages everywhere. How did you get here? One minute you were browsing around the for replacement of broken kettle, and the next thing you heard a huge blast, which must have knocked you out.

Something wet start to drip into your eyes, you try to raise your hand to wipe it, and realise you were tied up. Looking down, you have this huge military like vest on you, with wires and what looks like explosives.

Gunshot sounds echoes in the building. More shouting and screaming.

Suddenly you saw four men storming up the staircase, scouting the area.

One of them has a skull face mask on.

"….. Simon." You called out to him, voice hoarse.

Ghost's eye met yours, you see it widen, a flash of fear.

"Mini!!!" Hearing your brother's voice calling out to you, you turn your focus to the other three men, running up towards you.

"What.. what happened?"

" Terrorist attack. They set multiple bombs off around Piccadilly circus." Soap explained as he hovers over you, assessing the situation. " Fucken steaming Jesus." He cursed. Soap is demolition specialist, but disarming bombs are slightly out of his league.

Price and Gaz kneeled down beside you, intense worry shown on their face.

"Bravo 6 to base. Request bomb squad specialist to our location IMMEDIATELY. I repeat, URGENT."

"Captain, there's only FIVE minute timer left on this, we need to get started immediately ourselves." Gaz commented.

"I'll do it." Ghost volunteered. There is no way he is going to stand on the side and do nothing to help you to get out of danger.

Swiftly following instructions relay on by the squad specialist, along with Soap's expertise, the men started dismantling the bomb. Coming up to the last two wires,

" Red or Blue." and you saw all four of the men frowned.

" I ASK RED OR BLUE…. WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT'S RANDOM!!!" Ghost shouted. He is starting to lose his cool.

" Three minutes left .. " Gaz commented. You starting to sense distress and worry from the men.

Closing your eyes, you whispered out your decision. "Just go boys.. I can't let all you go down with me."

" We can't leave you here. I AM NOT LEAVING YOU HERE." Simon rejected.

" Simon, the kid need their dad," Looking at Soap, Price and Gaz, " And their uncles."

" AND I NEED YOU." You can hear the strain in his voice.

Opening your eyes again, you turn towards your brother. "Johnny. Just go. Look after the kids for us with Emma. Tell the kids I love them. and Ma and Pa too.. Gaz, Uncle Price, Thank you for everything." you whispered.

Price nodded. He made a lot of difficult decision in his life. This will probably the one that will haunt him for rest of his life. After the three of them gave you a quick kiss and hug, they started pulling back. You can hear Soap's anguish cry as they leave the building.

".. You know I love you very much right Simon? A Lot."

" I know love. I know…" He pulled his skull mask off. Tears streaming down his face. Taking a deep breath, he lean in for a kiss as he cut the wire.

[ava-dambrosio]

"Care to join me?"

Matteo's deep-set chuckle resounded from Ava's phone, matching the happy look in his eyes as the newly reunited couple shared their morning FaceTime.

"Go ahead, baby, I'll follow," he replied smoothly, as if there wasn't some 1,300 kilometres between them. Beaming in response, she took a minute or two to carefully roll off her bed before making her way to her en suite bathroom.

Ava loved her home and everything about it. Designed specifically to fit both her specific taste and needs, it served as a sanctuary for a pilot whose work consisted of long-haul flights. Her bathroom was of no exception. It was where she could strip down — literally and figuratively — and cleanse herself of everything that weighed her down.

Stepping inside, she set her phone on the counter before taking her boyfriend through her morning routine as if he was really there with her. On a high from the recent developments of her relationship with Matteo, it was clear that the parents-to-be were making the most out of their long-distance relationship. 

Soon bare from head to toe, Ava's arm instinctively and naturally cradled her growing bump. Picking up her phone to move Matteo in the shower, she sat the device down next to her shampoo and conditioner. It was a good thing too, as the wall served as an immediate support for when a sharp pain struck her belly.

"Amore, what's wrong?" Matteo's concerned voice filled the air at once. "Are you okay? Is he getting heavy?"

Ava gritted her teeth, swallowing back the pain. Damn Braxton-Hicks, she thought, exhaling slowly to calm herself. She'd been feeling them on and off this past week but never quite this painful. Remembering that this was a normal occurrence during pregnancy, she explained this to Matteo in an effort to reassure him.

"It'll soon pass, don't worry," Ava said just as another shock of pain pierced through her, harsher than before. This time, she couldn't hide the sheer intensity as written on her face. "Hang on, my love, I need a minute..."

It took Ava several slow, deep exhales before she managed a soft sigh of relief. At last. The worst is over.

Matteo barely had a word in before Ava's attention shot to the corner of her eye. There, a stream of pink water was running down her pristine white tiles towards the drain below. Confused, she quickly looked around for its source. Nothing. Her shower was as clean as ever.

So, where?

The sound of the shower and Matteo's muffled voice soon melded in the background as Ava's heart began racing. More so when the colour deepened to a darker crimson hue that even fresh running water failed to dilute it.

No... It can't be... If it didn't come from anywhere else, then...

With shaky hands, Ava finally reached between her legs. There was no way it could be coming from her, she fought to believe. Her pregnancy had been smooth sailing thus far, even with all the outside stress she's had to endure. She had multiple ultrasounds and routine checks as proof!

But one lift of her hand, and her heart stopped at once.

"Matteo..."

***

Everything onwards was a blur. A dream. A nightmare.

It was a few hours after the incident when Ava found herself waking up in a room that was not her own. Disoriented, she looked around to find herself in the hospital. But why?

Suddenly, flashes of that morning came back in a rush of hazy snippets like ones from a horror movie. The all-too-innocent video call with Matteo. The shower. The blood. The ambulance. The operating room. The pain. The pain of having to deliver...

Ava's hand shot straight to her round belly, a natural maternal reflex to ensure her baby was okay. But it didn't feel the same. It didn't feel right.

"Hello?" Ava called out loud, groaning as she tried to sit up. Expecting to see a nurse pop in, she was surprised to see both her boyfriend in the flesh, with her brother beside him.

"Wh—... " She had so many questions, she didn't know where to start. "Why am I here?" She finally asked, scared to put the pieces together. "Why am I in the hospital?"

Glancing at Matteo first, then Adrian, then back to Matteo, Ava was growing impatient. Their silence was not helping her anxiety as it hiked higher and higher up her chest until she felt like she was suffocating all over again. "Is our baby okay?"

If they could only answer one question, please let it be that.

Matteo was the first to speak, his voice as somber as his face, as Adrian's face, and as the doctor's face when she came in and closed the door behind her, amplifying the already deafening silence. Ava wasted no time getting straight to the point.

"Dr Galanis," she spoke to her doctor with a tight smile. "With all due respect, can you please tell me what's going on? Why am I here, and how is my baby???"

Not wanting to agitate her patient further, the doctor crossed the room and stopped to stand at the foot of Ava's bed. It was finally time to answer her most pressing questions.

"You were rushed to the hospital today, heavily bleeding," Dr Galanis began. "They brought you straight into my OR so we could assess what was happening, and make sure you and your baby were all right. But upon further assessment, I found that you had experienced what we call a placental abruption," she explained, finally delivering the news she was most dreading. "It's when the placenta peels off the uterine wall before the mother is ready to give birth, thus preventing the baby from getting the nutrients and oxygen he or she needs to develop. And, without knowing when the abruption happened, or how long he's been without oxygen..."

The doctor has had to share the news to Matteo and Adrian earlier that day when Ava was asleep, resting. But now, it was time for the mother herself to hear every parents' worst nightmare come true.

"I'm so sorry, Ava..." the doctor said with great sorrow and deepest regret, "but your son—... he didn't make it."

[ostentatiouslyonigiri]

"ONBOARDING"

[A/N: Seriously guys, there is no reason why Alucard should be so hard to write XD. He (in cannon) is such a discordant, confusingly consistent mess, OMG. Though I suppose that’ll happen after centuries of consuming souls…Well, at least he’s found a job that he loves! Also, reader is female and American]

“B-by myself!?”

You were at a loss for words. Asset management, training, recruitment. For the latter, you weren’t even sure of the logistics behind that. How could you run an entire HR department by yourself!? The background of the elegant room, the somber undertones, and the echo of your voice did nothing to salve the already desperate disposition of your nerves. As the smoke from the cigar of the steely eyed woman across from you dissipated into the air, a naughty thought appeared:Maybe the reason she puffs on that foul-smelling bundle of herbs is because of the stick she keeps up her—Suddenly, you felt the advance of many tiny legs up your arm and instinctively moved to swat away the possible offender. Nothing…

"Is that a problem?"The woman said as another puff of smoke left her plump lips. The unyielding nature of her gaze pinned you to the spot.The way her blue eyes bore into yours and the enunciation of your name made it clear that she dared you to respond. You did not.The decision was already made for you.There was no getting out of this. "You are to ensure the proper conduct of all personnel under the employ of my organization. You will be solely responsible for the results of this endeavour, be it success or failure. If the conditions in which you will do so do not accommodate your skill, then consider yourself terminated. If this is not the case, you are dismissed".

The openness of the hallway was a refreshing reprieve. Walking a short distance away from Sir Integra's office, you caught your bearings and reflected on your circumstances. "I guess that means I'm hired..."

You walked down a corridor, not really having a destination in mind. You just needed to think. ‘Am I really cut out for this?’ It all just felt so overwhelming. What if you failed? How would you be able to afford to get back home? Could you go back home? Already, the familiar warmth of tears began to prick at the corners of your eyes.

The eerie silence of the hallways seemed to swallow you whole as the weight of your uncertainty bore down. Your muffled footsteps left soft thuds against the carpeted marble floor, the only sound breaking the oppressive quiet. As if sensing your distress, the door lining the corridor slowly creaked open and beckoned you forth, revealing dimly lit rooms. Shadows danced within, casting an unsettling atmosphere that matched your turbulent thoughts. The soft yellow glow of the hallway lights bounced off of your ID badge and mixed with its myriad of colors. Your eyes traced over the hard piece of plastic, already sick of seeing the organization’s namesake. You shook your head. No, you can't think like this anymore! Stop with the negative self-talk! You’re not in America anymore— this is your chance to start again and prove yourself. You deserved to be here! As you continued to wander, the air within the building began to grow colder and clammier. The sudden oppressiveness of the atmosphere made even breathing uncomfortable. ‘What's going on?’ From your periphery, a particular painting caught your eye. It was of an aristocratic woman. Elegant and tall. Though beautiful, something was off. The eyes...Why were they red? You stood under the painting, observing it like a child would an attraction. Though sizable, you felt like the painting’s dwarfing effect couldn’t exactly be attributed to the painting's breadth.

"I see you've discovered Lady Integra's collection." For a short time, your surroundings were a blur as your eyes searched for the new variable.Your sights found its prize when it rested on the source of the rich baritone and smokey cologne: A man. As his chiseled jawline, silky raven hair, and broad shoulders emerged from the darker corners of the hall, more of his appearance came to light. Atop his dark tresses, laid a red wide brimmed hat that matched his red duster , and underfoot, were long leather boots. To complete the man’s strange ensemble, was his pair of orange sunglasses that reflected a brilliant sunset orange amongst the backdrop of shadows. Was this a popular dress style in England? You regarded the strange man with a level of suspicion, allowing the swell of goose pimples that were beginning to form to justify your apprehension. Clearly, this man must be an employee here; after all, he just spoke of Sir Integra. But where is his ID badge? You released a cold puff of air and gathered yourself.

“Y-yes, I have. It’s quite beautiful.” After a short pause, the man gives an appreciative hum. He approached the painting- and by extension, you- with measured strides.Though you tried not to make it obvious, the way your eyes tracked every inch of the man’s movement made your anxiety palpable. You eyed the man’s Adam’s Apple as it bobbed, like he was drinking in your fear. You chided yourself for the silly thought. Peeking through the sides of his glasses, you swore you saw crimson. It’s just a trick of the light.

“Aye, it is, isn't it? A true testament to humanity's will to rebuke what is their natural inheritance. It is but an inevitability, the grip of death, yet pieces like these ensure one will forever persist; even if it is through mere paper and colored earth. Humans…are so fascinating.”

You look up at the strange man, taking into consideration his words. “I…never really thought about it in that way. I suppose the tendency for humanity to preserve itself can be admirable, but I also can’t help but wonder when it stops being worth it to try. How many hours of labor and hardship did it take for one to even get the materials for this? Was the artist that was commissioned for this even compensated? Were they under duress? Countless resources, likely at others expense, just to spite the inevitable. At what point does it become insanity to continue?” To some extent, you wonder if the investment in such decadence could ever not be seen as tasteful. The man tilted his head in confusion, though his glasses made it difficult to tell. He later meets your gaze once more with a wide grin. “And yet it is here for you to ponder on. You still admire it, do you not?” You suppose he’s right about that…you suppose. “Mmh.”

“Alucard” What? Oh, of course, your name! “ W-here are my manners? It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Alucard!" You extended your arm for a handshake. Alucard raised an eyebrow, his expression hinting amusement at your sudden enthusiasm . Despite this, he gently took your hand in his. "The pleasure is all mine, dear" he murmurs, his voice smooth like velvet. As he released your hand, but not before a moment of arrest. The man was unnaturally cold. This made little sense considering he was wearing gloves. You stared down at them, noticing the odd symbols that traced along the smooth fabric.

"So, do you work here?” You ask nervously. “...My dear child, military compounds are not known for hosting tours” Alucard chuckles. You blushed as you kicked yourself for having asked such a stupid question. Unfortunately, it was not the last, but as the conversation between the two of you progressed, you found his biting sarcasm to be…entertaining? Clearly, the man was just as (if not more) entertained by you. From the sneaking glances at his spectacles, hints of amusement expressed itself through the veiled outlines of his eyes.

“Say, earlier when we were talking about that painting, you mentioned something about how humans are ‘fascinating’...” His strong jaw tilted to give you a cryptic expression. The corners of his eyes crinkled in delight as his cheshire smile welded together to tease a truth not yet privy to you. “Yes, and what of it?”

Swirling sunset eyes met with yours. Questions went unsaid and the impossibility of his eye’s inhuman color went unattended to by your psyche. Drawn to his preternatural beauty like a moth to a flame, your delicate digits found respite along the cool angles of Alucard's jaw; his long arms wrapped around your delicate waist in turn.

The satisfied gleam in his eyes turned a bright vermillion, though this did not register to you. After all, how could it when the point of his nose felt so good against the curve of your neck? How could anything matter when the light feather kisses along the new trail of bruises felt so right? You were floating on a fluffy cloud. You leaned in more to seek the comfort of his tongue's girth as he further suckled upon your skin. Pads of your breasts being kneaded was the button needed to release the breathy moan that escaped from your lips. You ached with need, he could smell it. A whine escaped from your lips as Alucard withdrew slightly, a wicked grin spread across his face as he assessed your feeble state. Your arm tickled at the way his gloved fingers danced along your skin. Your jaw felt good in between his fingers, you thought.

“My dear, you wished to know what I meant when I spoke of humanity…Do you still want to know?” It was unfair really. How could you possibly answer such a thing when he was toying with your body like this? When his large hands dared to roam under the fabric of your clothes and to your heat? When his tall nose tickled its way so sweetly along the surface of your cheek until his lips could reach the shell of your ear to continue whispering sweet temptations? Bent sinfully, the Vampire King sampled more of your flavor, though careful not to break any skin—Yet.

“Why do you reject it? Why deny yourself ? Sweet thing, allow me to show you the pleasures of surrender.” 'That... Maybe that wouldn't be so bad...', your mind drifts. The ghost of affirmation clung to your lips by a finger. That shouldn't be a problem, right?

“Is that a problem?” Your mind thought back to that woman..

Blood, as Alucard has learned over the centuries, tasted better when given freely. He just needed the word. He began to coo at you, sure that his prize was soon to be had. Your eyebrows knitted together and your hands reached to push at Alucard's broad shoulders. From your periphery, true would be found. His teeth…His eyes…You couldn't even recall when he'd taken off his glasses…

He's going to kill you, isn't he? Your first day on the job... Will be your last. Though the bulk of your freewill had mostly seeped out and left a vast space for persuasion, the 'bulk of' didn’t mean all. Blunt nails made harsh contact with soft skin. Streaks of scrapped flesh mirrored the streaks of salty water that cascaded down your cheeks. Quickly, reserved defiance turned into a desperate fight for life. Just as quickly, however, your body tired and could no longer accommodate your frantic attempts. Your mind followed suit when the previous bloody tears against pale flesh sealed; leaving no sign of damage behind. “H-help!” It seemed that no such thing would come. Worse than before, the echoes of your voice did nothing to salve the desperate disposition of your nerves. You were truly alone…Never had a smile looked so sickening.

You weren't going to win. Whoever this is, whatever this is, was going to kill you and there was nothing you could do about it.

"Please... Make it quick” Alucard, at your words, sniffed in disgust. His initial features of surprise quickly turned into an acrid distaste. Suddenly, the rotten blood of ghouls would be more preferable than the presence of a coward. Humans who were so willing to just forfeit their life...

"Disgusting," Alucard spits out, recoiling as if offered a meal of festered meat and a chalice of pus. Disdain etches itself onto his angular features, a look of utter contempt. His venomous glare pierced through you, freezing your very soul. Though “free”, you were not sure if you were better off in this situation or the former. Meek human eyes locked gazes with hot coals from the depths of hell.

“BACK AWAY FROM THE GIRL OR WE WILL BE FORCED TO SHOOT!"

The man in the familiar tactical gear,‘Birminghamman’, you vaguely recall, shouts as he points his firearm at the haunting figure. The presence of another human did not, unfortunately, improve your spirits. In fact, the presence of more bodies and more guns made the situation ironically more tense. Red eyes laid no heed to the crowd forming around the spectacle; it's attention only on you.

There was no other form of acknowledgement other than a mere scoff. The specter of a man swiveled on booted heels and was welcomed by the darker expanse of the hallway. Crimson lined shadows retreated, leaving nothing but dotted black plumes in its wake.

Birmingham was the last to lower his gun. "M-miss, are you alright?” You really weren't sure how to answer that question. Were you okay? “Listen, if you need to go to the infirmar—”, You recoiled at his reassuring gesture, only able to stare back owlishly.

You were told everything.

[thebettybook]

Hello! Would I be a to request an established relationship with 14, 25, and D? Angst to comfort with Leona comforting the reader? I have been listening to Gilded Lily by Cults and I can’t stop thinking about how relatable it is for the MC.

Thank you for your previous works I love your content on Leona so much and can’t wait for more in the future! Hope you have a good day :D

🍁 Fic below the cut :D 🍁

Hi, @tutankhaten913! I never listened to “Gilded Lily” by Cults till now. I also looked up the lyrics, and with TWST in mind, the lyrics made me think of how MC is burnt out from all the responsibilities they have as Prefect and how lost they feel in Twisted Wonderland sometimes. What were your interpretations of the lyrics?

Also thank you for your kind words! I saw that you have a writing blog yourself so I appreciate your request as a fellow writer :) Also also I love your background wallpaper of Leona on your writing blog hehe

My “Fall’ing For Ya” Writing Event info and prompt list for others who may want to check it out and request :)

Update/important note 4/22/23: MC!reader is gender neutral in all of the posts for this event

14. ❛ I knew you would be here. ❜

25. ❛ I’m here for you. Don’t forget that. ❜

D. Fall cleaning at Ramshackle

🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁

🍂 It was the weekend, a perfect time to get some fall cleaning done at Ramshackle. You, Grim, and the Ramshackle ghosts procrastinated on fall cleaning for so long that the fallen autumn leaves began to pile up in the yard.

🍂 The Ramshackle ghosts spent the afternoon raking the fallen leaves into neat piles, while Grim scurried around the dorm’s halls to mop the floors. You were in charge of taking out the thicker blankets and clothing for you and Grim.

🍂 The soft wool of one of your sweaters tickled your hands as you folded the sweater and tucked it into your drawer in your and Grim’s upstairs bedroom. Your random and cheerful humming halted as a wave of nostalgia and sadness washed over you.

🍂 Fall cleaning suddenly made you remember that you weren’t from Twisted Wonderland; that your chaotic yet somehow-now-beautiful life at Night Raven College could change someday or fade away if Crowley ever found you a way back to your world.

🍂 You then thought about how you had taken on so many tasks and basically worked your butt off everyday just to be able to live on campus. Running around doing Crowley’s tasks, dealing with students’ Overblots, making sure more students weren’t Overblotting…the list went on and on.

🍂 Your thoughts led you to wonder what your world was up to right now; if people in your world were also doing fall cleaning. What were your family or friends doing without you right now? How were they doing without you?

🍂 Even though you found family in your friends from the various NRC dorms, in Grim and the Ramshackle ghosts, and your partner Leona, your heart ached for the world you once knew that was changing seasons without you.

🍂 Tears pricked the corners of your eyes and before you knew it, you ran out of your room and down the rickety wooden staircase. You almost stumbled at the bottom, causing two of the Ramshackle ghosts (I named them Ramsey and Allen -🍓) to pause their chores.

🍂 “Where are you going, Y/N?” Ramsey hummed as he wiped away the dust on the glass lanterns that hung on the hallway’s walls.

🍂 “Yes, what’s wrong, dear?” Allen gazed at you in concern with his translucent, robin-egg-blue eyes. The two ghosts then noticed your tears, but before they could approach you, you ran past them and out the door without a word.

🍂 Your footsteps thudded on the cobblestone pavement as you ran away from Ramshackle and out onto the main path of campus. You continued running, passing the almost-barren trees with orange and yellow leaves and the students bundled up in coats and sweaters, which were all but a blur.

🍂 Soon, your feet halted inside the unoccupied Mirror Chamber, and you stared at the Dark Mirror before you. The mirror that brought you to Twisted Wonderland.

🍂 “Why?” you sobbed, breaking down in front of the ancient mirror gilded with carved motifs of a golden crown and two serpents facing opposite of each other on either side of the crown. “Why did you bring me here? Why me? You could’ve chosen anyone else to bring to Twisted Wonderland besides me. Why am I here?”

🍂 The mirror’s ebony glass only answered you with its painfully silent reflection of you in tears. Below the mirror, a four-tiered royal-purple fountain filled the silence of the chamber with gurgles from its poison-apple-green liquid.

🍂 “Will I ever find a way back h—,” you cried, but before you could say “home,” someone’s familiar footsteps at the door greeted you.

🍂 “I knew you would be here.” You turned around to find Leona leaning against the door frame, his hands tucked in his school uniform pants pockets. “When I arrived at Ramshackle to help ya clean, Ramsey and Allen told me ya ran off somewhere in tears.”

🍂 Without another word, Leona approached you. He wrapped one arm around your back to pull you gently into a hug. As you buried your face into Leona’s marigold school uniform vest, your tears flowed freely down your cheeks.

🍂 “I still don’t understand why the mirror brought me to Twisted Wonderland!” you sobbed as you clung to Leona.

🍂 Leona didn’t interrupt you; he only nuzzled the top of your head and rubbed circles onto your back. He wanted you to let everything out: your frustrations, your sadness, your pain…all of it.

🍂 After a few minutes of letting your cries echo throughout the Mirror Chamber, Leona spoke up. “I don’t know why you were brought here, either,” Leona replied in a soft tone, flicking his summer-green eyes up to the still Dark Mirror. “This isn’t gonna sound so reassuring, but the Dark Mirror probably brought you here for a reason. It doesn’t make mistakes on who it brings to Night Raven College. I’m not sure what the reason to why you’re here is, but the only thing I’m sure of is that I’m thankful the Dark Mirror gave me the chance to meet you.”

🍂 You brought your head up from Leona’s chest and gazed up at him with tears that fell from your chin and onto his vest. Instead of wiping away the tears on your face with his leather-gloved-fingers or a handkerchief, Leona leaned down to kiss your tears away. It wasn’t very effective, but his light kisses tickled your cheeks and made you giggle despite yourself.

🍂 A tiny grin grew on Leona’s face as he heard your giggles, and he continued to kiss your tears away. You pulled away from Leona to cup his face with your hands. As you stared into the warm summer-green eyes of the person before you, the person who became one of your best friends and one of the most important people of your life, you broke into tears once more.

🍂 You thought of the moments you shared with Leona, with your friends like Ace and Deuce, and with Grim and the Ramshackle ghosts. They all weren’t your family by blood, but they sure as heck were your family by heart.

🍂 Even if you might never find a way back to your world, or even if you did, remembering that you had an army of people who would always love and support you in Twisted Wonderland made you feel less worried about your unpredictable future.

🍂 “Leona,” you whispered, a smile of hope and thankfulness cracking on your face. “Thank you.”

🍂 Leona brought his hands up to yours to hold them. “I’m here for you. Don’t forget that,” Leona nuzzled his cheek into your right palm. “Now let’s go home to get that fall cleanin’ done. Ramsey said he’d teach me how to make your favorite soup for dinner.”

🍂 The Ramshackle ghosts loved you like their own, and they also loved Leona (who was practically like their child-in-law at this point). Leona had to admit that he enjoyed the ghosts’ company as well (you and Leona liked to learn more about Twisted Wonderland history from hearing the Ramshackle ghosts’ life experiences).

🍂 “Home?” you wiped your remaining tears away with one hand as Leona took your other hand to guide you out of the Mirror Chamber.

🍂 “Whether it’s Ramshackle, Savanaclaw, or Great Seven knows where, to me…home’s where you are,” Leona turned around at the door to gaze at you with all the love and adoration in his eyes, those summer-green eyes that never failed to make you feel warm, safe, and loved no matter how many seasons would pass by.

🍂 “I feel that way, too.” You gave Leona’s fingers a squeeze, to which he reciprocated. “Let’s go home, Leona.”

🍂 And with that, hand-in-hand, you and Leona returned home.

🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁

Little notes:

🍓 This fic became wayyyy more self-indulgent than I meant it to be 🤧

🍓 I named one of the Ramshackle Ghosts “Ramsey” after “Ramshackle,” but I also wrote in this fic implying that Ramsey is the cook of Ramshackle. And then I suddenly thought of Gordon Ramsay, so I thought that was a nice coincidence-of-sorts lol.

Important:

🍓I don’t own any of the characters I mention or write about; they belong to their original and respective creators.

🍓All content on this blog is created by me, @thebettybook. Do not modify, claim, repost or translate my work onto this platform or any other platform.

🍓Reblogs are appreciated. Want to read Leona romance fluff? Check out my masterlist

[acespaceacepilot]

Genuinely the academia fic makes me want to read every poem you cited!! Oh my god. Obviously I looked up Staying Quiet and I had a moment of stunned silence and wonder that you specifically knew the poem and exactly where it would be at home. Insane. Also reminded me of other great academia AUs in that now I almost want to write my english lit end of semester essays, thank you for the motivation. Anyway I'm here and not in the AO3 comment section because in the author's note at the start you mentioned having planned out what the characters would be doing and since you were on point with what you showed I am so so curious what else you've got for this setting 👀 in any case thank you so much <3

up top, thank you so much!! amongst my friends, i am a known poetry heaux. i go to poetry readings and feel my feelings; my partner got me a necklace that's engraved with a buddy wakefield quote. i have one of his collections signed to me. i fucking Love poetry.

hieu minh nguyen is one of my personal favorites and something was pinging around in my skull being like "hey! listen! there's a poem from them that perfectly fits astarion!" it fell Perfectly into place, shout out to my adhd background thoughts that were So Sure that hieu minh nguyen's poem should be there.

i'm going to put the rest below the cut, because. i have A Lot of thoughts and feelings

let's start with what i directly used in all my visions converted to blurs:

wyll is a low-rung english professor at a state school when he Could be at an ivy league bc of his dad’s nepotism. but wyll doesn't want a position his dad gets him, obvi. i want wyll to want to be out of his father's shadow, damn it.

(ulder is dean of a business school at an ivy league in my mind. it just fits. as a person with an english/linguistics degree: ulder ravengard has hella business major energy.)

astarion has taken a year or four off from school at this point. i hinted at substance abuse being the main reason that it's taken him so long to graduate from the law program? when he was the same age as his classmates, i think he partied A Lot and ended up having to retake some classes during his undergrad. i think i landed on coke being his chosen vice? idk it's vague for a reason. he's trying to get his life back on track

wyll and gale share an office space.

now here's what i left on the cutting room floor:

astarion is Still older than wyll, but not by more than six years

mizora is head of the english department. wyll has to play nice bc he's waiting to defend his dissertation and she'll be on the panel. she uses this to push her work or responsibilities onto wyll

lae'zel is doing her doctorate in anthropology/paleoanthropology. she's researching ancient war strategies and how social norms impacted them.

minthara is lae'zel's advisor because they'd have a Great dynamic. she specializes in biological anthropology. she can ball park which century any given human skull comes from.

shadowheart is working on her doctorate of psychology and specifically writing her dissertation profiling the susceptibility of cult victims mixed with religious studies to compile information about modern worship

1000000000% there are rumors about shadowheart's personal experience with cults. people say she goes by shadowheart so the cult she escaped from can't find her. she's heard every joke in the book about midsommar. there's some frat boy in the greek row that swears up and down that she bit his buddy hard enough to draw blood when they hooked up.

halsin and jaheira do ecology and agriculture, respectively. environmental sciences people. they both have tenure. halsin runs an internship for wetland management in the summer. jaheira is like a leading expert in soil science.

jaheira told mizora she was a bitch during a whole university department head meeting once and that's why halsin's the department head now.

minsc is literally just a coach. he does not teach Any classes and hangs out with the university's mascot Constantly. he coaches rugby and crew in the summer, basketball in the winter.

gale is a double discipline professor for history and cultural anthropology. So Close to getting tenure. his rate my professor score is mid as hell bc students either love or hate him because boy does this man drone onnnnnnnnnn

he's been on like four different digs in egypt and will talk about them at length but does that thing of "my second time in cairo. wait.... no. it was my Third time in cairo."

i posted this on twitter, but here's the couch lore: the couch in their office is a hand me down from gale's apartment because tara scratched it to hell on the corner of the armrests + the reason why the couch doesn't have any throw pillows is because gale didn't want to be tempted to nap and he already has a terrible time maintaining a work life balance

karlach is in sports medicine. she coaches the track team and works with weightlifters that have olympic aspirations. she was good enough to go to the last summer games for weightlifting, but an accident with a treadmill that she doesn't like to talk about prevented her from going.

she still has beef with gortash because he was on the shortlist for open spot availability.

she's Convinced that he's on steroids

[someguyinc]

Ooooh what are your story ideas and meta in the works?

ahh !! i have a good handful,, most of them are merlin related so forgive me spn mutuals ;-; but i'm just going to list them off bc i fear if i give an in depth response this post would be one of those long ones that make your app glitch and phone burn to a crisp in your hands

bbc merlin:

meta:

- gwaine being more observant than he's given credit for pulling a classic "oh i just drink and make jokes" silly guy move as a cover

- arthur, merlin, and mordred and their roles in the prophecy/ties to the old religion and triple goddess

- destiny in bbc merlin being a living breathing entity that lives through feeding off of tragedy

- gwen and her flower motif !!

- morgana and merlin being two sides of the same coin

- the different sects of the old religion and those that believe in the once and future king vs those who don't

- magic and its relation to gender throughout the entire series and how it is often a punishment for the women in the series

- gwen and lancelot being foils for each other

- gwen and elyan's sibling relationship (this one is mostly head canons based off the scraps we get throughout the series)

- more in-depth exploration of the main 4's character thesis

- difference between merlin and emrys and where the line blurs

- druids and their expectations of merlin

fic ideas:

- key trials: merlin and arthur have to enter the kingdom of the sidhe and stop the ever growing plague that has begun destroying all the crops and causing an abundance of monsters in albion,, this one investigates the double standard merlin holds for arthur vs himself, the lies they've told themselves and arthur internal bias from being raised anti-magic, as well as merlin being a liar

(i've stated writing a few chapters but lost motivation n school n work once again took over my life)

- dragon's ire: heavy political intrigue, prince merlin au, focuses heavily on the reality of merlin and morgana's ill-fated friendship and how merlin telling morgana about his magic could've definitely made things worse in the long run, kingdoms at war and gives more background to the knights as well as blacksmith!gwen who i hold close to my heart

- fae circle fic: really just guilty pleasure of seeing genderbent morgana and gwen if i'm being honest,, silly fun :3

- elwaine fic idea: moments where traveling blacksmith elyan meets gwaine multiple times but working with him as a knight gets a bit more difficult from there prolly just smth short n fun :)

//

spn:

meta:

- sam and dean and hoodoo/voodoo in spn and how many times they should've died after using it... i do not know how to stress that not only are these practices closed off to non-black folk but then also like,, even black people that do not have practitioners in their bloodlines do not fuck with these practices because the repercussions are just that !! bad !! 😭😭 (ofc ik the 'god favor' and more realistically this is bc there were probably no black writers in the room but DAMN,, it's just insane)

- probably low hanging fruit but,, song genres relating to each member of tfw and their arc in the story

- i'm sure someone has done this before too but bela/dean parallels and similarities

fic idea:

- jock!castiel... that's all i got 😭😭 i've only recently gotten into spn and castiel is very close to my heart,, but i keep seeing fics where he is a gardner/knitter and while i think he'd be interested i think he'd also drop them very quickly bc he strikes me as a person(?) that likes the idea of taking things slow but when it comes down to it much rather would prefer things get done immediately or at least he can move his body and feel like something is getting accomplished,, he's also incredibly charismatic and i would love to see him leading a team in something without feeling like it could become a cult

it's kind of just a guilty pleasure lol not too much backing

anyways thanks for the ask hope any of this is interesting 😭🫡