#I have rarely reported one so fast

[tadfools]

There's a rage inside of me that I didn't know was humanly possible

[irndad]

don't date coworkers- s.r.

a/n: i literally wrote this very fast and also i hope you like it pls go easy on me!!! reader has a policy they don't date coworkers. spencer is so angsty abt that !! also sorry for dropping a new fic at 2am LOL wc: 1.7k

She’s really, really good at talking to people. 

It’s one of the many traits Spencer adores about her. She moves through crowds with ease, and she can charm her way into any piece of information from whatever city cop they need a favor from. She integrated into the team faster than anyone could’ve expected. This is a strength not all profilers have- they know what it takes to know what makes someone appealing, but rare is the ability to be as charismatic and charming as she is. 

She’s good at talking to him.

She’s worked at the BAU for about a year now. 13 months, 7 days and 8 hours since she walked through the doors of the bullpen for the first time, beaming at him for the very first time. Give or take. 

Spencer wouldn’t be surprised if everyone knew that he was in love with her. He’s halfway certain she does, and is being too polite to mention it. Normally, Spencer is incredibly regimented about boundaries. While the BAU is his family, and there’s no real way to deny that, he knows that he’s less than ideal to go out with. He’s stocky and he never cuts his hair (even though she swears it’s cute longer) and he’s an awkward guy- gangly and tall and just ill-fitting to be part of the scenery of her life. 

It’s a Friday, and a rainy one at that. It’s one of the blessed ones where they don’t really have a case, just paperwork to catch up on, reports and her desk faces a window. 

Normally, when Spencer gets his work done (a good four hours before everyone else on a paperwork-only day), he’d head out. Catch up on whatever Russian novel he’s been chipping away at- but she’s here, and he’s made her favorite tea. 

“I thought you could use a treat,” he says, walking over to her desk. She looks up at him, brushing overgrown bangs, “It’s not really a great one, but I’ll get you some scones on the way to mine, yeah?”

She looks up at him, dropping her pen and focusing entire energy on him. He feels a bit overwhelmed, like an ant under a magnifying glass. 

“Did you know that I adore you, Spence?” 

He is very much not aware. No amount of her saying it will ever make him know. She takes a long sip from the mug. He knows how much honey she likes in it. He studies how she looks, eyes closed serenely, completely invested in what he’s given her. 

“You’ll be taking her home, pretty boy?” Morgan snickers, in a not altogether unkind manner. 

“Fuck off,” she says kindly, not taking her eyes off of Spencer as she rebuffed Morgan’s teasing. 

“Easy, easy,” Morgan laughs, “I’ll leave your boyfriend alone.”

If she has anything to say to that, it doesn’t come out then. 

He’s still bright red, though. Morgan is amused, and Spencer knows that she really, truly adores Morgan. Spencer loves him too, but it would be nice if he laid off the jokes. 

She doesn’t date coworkers. 

He knows this because of the first time they’d met, when he’d been walking in carrying a croissant for Garcia and a coffee for JJ, and saw what can only be described as a truly ridiculously beautiful woman in the bullpen. 

She’d been leaned back, smiling openly as Morgan tossed some random pick-up line towards her. He remembers it now like he can still hear it, her lilting lovely voice carrying just the right amount of warmth to make this not sting, or at least sting as little as possible. 

“I’m sorry, Derek,” she had said, “I make it a point not to date coworkers.��� 

Which of course is fine. She can date whoever she wants, and it’s a good policy to have personally. And Spencer’s never really be the kind of guy who excelled at getting dates. He knew from the first minute that he saw her that even if she didn’t think that way… well, it wouldn’t be him, who she picked. 

Now, they are very close. So close that she drives him home from work every Friday. Which usually includes staying at his shitty apartment and watching VHS tapes of documentaries and Doctor Who. 

He wants to kiss her every Friday. All, the time, really. It’s kind of plaguing him. Clearly, she likes hanging out with him. Something about him is appealing. It’s foolish to assume that it’s more than friends, especially for someone like him to be with someone like her. 

She doesn’t date coworkers. 

“I made sure the film tonight has subtitles!”

“Are you saying film because this film is foreign, Spence?”

“I promise it’s worth it!” He says excitedly, “And they’re really done well. You won’t have to have me whisper the translations to you in real time!”

“I didn’t mind that,” She laughs then, a real laugh, “but I’m glad we’re getting to hang out tonight.”

It’s funny- they’ve done this so, so many times, but he never stops being thrilled. 

___________________________________

Sometimes, when the summer air is forgiving enough, they walk home from the office. She takes the train in, and they walk back to his place. Tonight is one of these nights, and god- she looks lovely. She’s tied her blazer around her waist, and the sunset hits her face in that gorgeous baroque painting kind of way. 

“You’re very pretty,” he hears himself say before he can stop it. He’s endlessly pleased when she preens at the praise. 

“You’re not so bad yourself, Doctor,” she says, shoving her hands into her pockets, a nervous gesture. He wants to hold those hand, intertwine her lovely delicate fingers with his bony wispy fingers. 

“You’re being nice to me,” he says, looking down at his shoes. They’re stupid. He should wear loafers, or some other shoe that doesn’t make him like half-child half-geek. 

“I’m being accurate, actually,” she says she bumps his shoulder. 

She’d be a wonderful girlfriend. He lives in the world this can happen quite often, in his fantasy. She laughs at his jokes and tells him he’s kind, and good, and she means it. He’s lucky to have this much of her- more than anyone else on the team! Spencer knows he’s her favorite. The way she’s looking at him now, how she give-up her Fridays to spend with him, on his ratty couch, how she always listens. Whenever they're both on the jet and he falls asleep, he always wakes up with a blanket on him. She's so good at loving people.

Being her favorite on the team does not mean he’s in the running to be a boyfriend. But he’d fucking want to be. He’d be a good boyfriend. Spencer, he’s gone so far for her. He fantasizes about getting her flowers that have symbolic meaning.

“Are you okay, boy-genius?”

“I’m better than okay. Do you want popcorn?”

She wants popcorn. He sets the movie up, and she gets comfortable on his couch, curling up with his purple felt blanket, and his mind betrays him with unhelpful images of what it might look like if she was his, if this is what he came home to. 

Don't picture welcome home kisses, or movie nights or being wanted. Don't.

It’s very, very hard to focus on the movie.  

She’s touchy, with him. He’s not sure if it’s because she could never see him as her boyfriend, but he’s grateful as she leans her head on his. She smells like peonies. When the credits roll, they stay like that for minute- her head on his shoulder and one of her legs thrown over his. 

He wonders, not for the first time, if she feels the same way about him. If things were just..different, then they’d be kissing under the haze of his TV right now, if he’d know what that chapstick she carries with her every day tastes like. 

“Do you ever wonder what it’d be like if we met under different circumstances?” he says, once time passes and he speaks instead of thinking.

“Hmm?” She hummed, relaxed eyes flitting their gaze over to him.

“Like, at a bar or something.”

“But you hate bars.”

“That’s why I said or something!”

Her lip juts out adorably, “But then I wouldn’t get to see you in your element.”

“Yeah,” he sighs, resting his neck on the top of the cushion. The AC is a little too much in the room. He wonders if she’s cold. “But who knows. Maybe we’d date, or something.”

It’s the dumbest thing he’s ever fucking said. Both because it was a dumb way to say it, but because it was an advance. He feels white hot shame lick at his spine when he looks at her, and hears her laugh. 

“I don’t think so, Spence.” 

“No,” shitshitshit, “I didn’t mean-“

“I mean, if you don’t want to date me now, I don’t think meeting at like, Whole Foods would’ve been the difference maker.”

It’s then he hears it- the piece he couldn’t place in her voice, when she gets like this. It’s being resigned. 

“What are you talking about?”

“C’mon, Spence,” she says, another bitter chuckle coming through, “You know how I feel. I haven’t exactly beens subtle.”

“But you don’t date coworkers. You have a rule.”

She looks at him with no recognition of what he’s saying. 

“No, because you told Morgan that, it’s the first thing I ever heard you say.”

“Yeah, but-“

“And yes, okay, you’ve been my favorite person almost as long as I’ve known you and yes, I would fucking love for you to be my girlfriend, but that was your rule!”

“You want me to be your girlfriend?”

“Obviously!”

He doesn’t get the chance to say anything else before, well- before she’s kissing him. More aggressive than that, really. Crawled onto his lap, arms around his neck, and where she leads Spencer is all too happy to follow. His body is not great at moving on instinct, but his whole nervous system feels alive- the weight of her in his lap, the feel of her waist under his fingers, the way he’s allowed this. It feels like such a pleasure, hedonistic in a way he’s never, ever been allowed to experience.

“You had a rule,” he says dumbly when she pulls away. His lips are wet. He’d like to go back to kissing, thank you very much. 

“You’re the exception, to every rule, Spencer.”

When he kisses her again (which he’s allowed to do now, holy fuck) Spencer decides he’s going to spend the rest of all time earning that status. 

[reidrum]

i cannot stop thinking about reader giving jesus hair spencer a blowjob, and him using the hair tie he keeps on his wrist to put her hair up

hair tie | s.r

a/n: hey so this made me insane. also i wrote this really fast if it seems rushed that’s why. may we all be manhandled by jesus reid in the near future amen

cw: smut 18+ minors dni, blowjob, softdom!spence lowkey, reader has hair long enough to be tied up, can be read as gn!reader but lmk if i missed something!

wc: 888

——————————————————————————

spencer’s long hair was definitely a choice. he grew it out to his shoulders purely because he couldn’t make it to a barber, and simply because he didn’t really care. it did become a hassle when he’d be hunched over his desk finishing reports and strands of hair would fall forward and obstruct his eyesight.

he found that he would waste so much time when he paused to push his hair behind his ears (two minutes and thirty seconds slower, he counted). he’d come home to you and complain wondering how all women dealt with the long hair if it just always flew in front of them. how did you get anything done?

then one day when spencer came home from work, you had a small surprise for him. a pack of 100 black hairties.

“so you can just put your hair up in a little pony or man bun and keep working!” you’d exclaimed.

he was so endeared by the gesture, he rarely ever tied his hair up but he never left the house without a hair tie on his wrist. he liked having the option if he needed it, plus it always reminded him of you when he saw it.

the few times he’s used it are during intense heat waves in dc, when he’s dealing with toxic chemicals and such, and when he’s with you.

when he goes down on you, his hair would never stay in place. and it irked him to have to remove his fingers from you in order to fix it. you found it so hot though. he was deathly hot, but he really didn’t understand what it did to you when he was on his knees tying his hair up for you.

until it happened to him, of course.

he had come home from work, tired from the day at the office. you led him to the couch and told him to sit and relax while you took care of him. he spreads his legs open and leans back onto the couch, his arms fanning outwards to rest on the ledge, “you’re too good to me, baby.”

you were down on him, moving your head and back and forth on his length. you traced the underside vein with your tongue, getting as much as you could down your throat. the sight of you dribbling spit all over his cock sent him into another orbit. it was messy, lewd, and outright fucking hot.

but that hair of yours kept falling down your cheeks and blocked the beautiful view of him fucking your mouth. he rakes his hands through your hair, but as much as he could hold it on his own, your ministrations were too good for him to keep a good grip on it.

in a haste move, he removes his hands and you look up at him in confusion at the loss of contact. you watch intently as he rolls the hair tie off his sleeve, the one that you got him, and watch him tie your hair up in a haphazard ponytail.

jesus fucking christ.

you whimper at the gesture, overwhelmed by the feeling of him tying your hair up. he feels you falter for a second, before you raise both hands to the remaining of his cock that didn’t fit in your mouth and hollow your cheeks out.

“fuck, angel, that’s so good—oh my god,” he mewls, “you like it when i tie your hair up? like when i—shit— use my own hair tie on you?”

you moan around his cock, sending vibrations throughout his body which he responded with a long groan, “bet you didn’t think this is what i’d use the hair ties for huh?”

he stares down at your face, tears streaming down both sides as you keep him in your mouth, as he twirls the ponytail in his big hand and tugs.

“baby, oh my god, fuck i’m gonna come.” he lets out, and soon he releases himself into your mouth as you swallow every last drop. you pull your mouth off his cock, leaning your cheek on his inner thigh as you stare up at him trying to catch your breath.

“holy shit.” you breathe out.

he laughs, “holy shit is right,” he strokes your hair gently, “was it actually hot when i tied your hair up?”

you look at him incredulously, “are you joking? the fact that i bought it for you to use, that you keep it on your wrist all the time, and that you used it on me when i was sucking you off, i could outcompete the sun right now.”

he pulls you off your knees to sit on his lap on the couch, “i’ll make note of that, my love,” he softly kisses you. cuddling further into his chest, you both end up falling asleep on the couch tangled all up in each other.

later down the line, spencer realizes that those cheap black hair ties aren’t all that great. they break easily and he finds it pulled out his hair, and probably your hair, a lot.

to solve this, spencer buys a pack of baby pink scrunchies that he keeps on his wrist at all times. he read somewhere they’re easier on the scalp. morgan makes fun of him for it, and while spencer rarely uses the scrunchies for himself, looking at the pink on his wrist always made his cock twitch a little no matter where he was.

[imjustreadinglmao]

BLUE

Paring: Azriel x Reader, Lucien x platonic!Reader

Summary: After Azriel and Elain‘s courtship is revealed, their mates, Lucien and Y/N, are left to deal with the consequences. While fighting against Koschei and for Prythian‘s freedom, Y/N has to navigate her emotions and learn how to live with the heartbreak of a one sided mating bond. But what happens when long kept secrets are revealed and everything turns out differently than they thought?

PART I

word count: 3k

A/N: this is part 1 of BLUE. I changed the beginning a bit to fit the storyline. Please be nice this is my first fic :)

Warnings: light angst, unrequited love, mention of childhood trauma/ mention of ãbuse (not described)

part 2

I stir my black tea as Rhysand files through the report I handed him just seconds ago.

The steam from the tea rises, curling in delicate tendrils, carrying with it a sense of fleeting warmth that I desperately cling to.

Rhysand’s office is both grand and simple.

Bookshelves line the walls, filled with volumes on history, strategy, and magic. A fireplace to the right. Above it, a large portrait of Velaris shows the city bathed in a soft, ethereal glow. Feyre gifted it to him last starfall.

Heavy velvet drapes in shades of midnight blue frame the windows, ready to be drawn shut for privacy.

In the distance I can make out the mountains with their snow-capped peaks and the Sidra winding through the valley below.

“I have to say, I’m impressed you were able to convince Devlon so fast.”

I look up at Rhys and chuckle, the sound hollow to my own ears. “It does help if you threaten to cut his balls off and stake them to the wall for everyone to see.”

Rhys lifts a brow and barks out a laugh. “I see.”

I rarely go on missions anymore, choosing to work as an advisor for Rhysand.

Missions used to be exciting, but nowadays I prefer the comfort my room provides. The sense of security it brings is a balm to my soul, now more than ever.

I take this as a sign to stand up and lift my bag from the floor. I sling it over my shoulder and make my way to the door.

“Don’t forget tonight’s family dinner,” Rhysand calls after me. I don’t look back, just give him a thumbs-up and close his office door behind me.

As I make my way downstairs and through the foyer, I spot Lucien strapping on his sword. Presumably getting ready for training, he has always been an early riser.

“How did the mission go?” Lucien doesn’t need to look up to see that it’s me approaching.

I let out a sigh and rub my temples. “Good.” I stop beside him and flop onto the recamier right next to the front door. “Well, as good as paying the camps a visit can get.”

Lucien cracks a smile at that, his amber eyes twinkle with amusement. He knows exactly how difficult it is to convince Devlon of something he isn’t particularly fond of.

“Are you coming to the family dinner tonight?” I ask, my voice betraying a hint of reluctance.

Lucien sheaths his blade and nods. “Feyre will have my head if I don’t show up. I already missed the last one.”

I cringe at the mention of the last family dinner. The memory alone sends a sharp pang through my chest.

———————

I walk into the dining room, ready to face yet another family dinner. I spot Mor right away, radiant in her blood-red gown. The sight of her is always one of familiarity and comfort.

“Hey, got another one of those?” I point to the wine glass in her hand. She arches a brow and hands me one filled to the brim.

“Are we so exhausting that you need liquid encouragement to get through the night?” she muses. I just roll my eyes, trying to hide my amusement.

Right as she opens her mouth to say something, the back of my head begins to tickle. He is here.

I turn around to see Azriel walk through the door, and he is not alone. Elain is beside him, their hands intertwined.

Even though I was expecting it to happen soon, the sight still hits me like a physical blow. It was always just a matter of time till Azriel and Elain decided to go against Rhys‘s order and make their love official.

I‘m glad, Lucien isn’t here to witness this. I can’t imagine how it would be for him.

Since only my side of the bond snapped into place, seeing how in love they are, is somehow… manageable. For Lucien it would be almost deadly.

I look back at Mor, her expression as shocked as mine. “I didn’t know,” she whispers, her face now bearing a look of worry and pity.

To say the dinner is awkward would be an understatement. Nobody really knows what to say after Elain and Azriel walked in holding hands.

I just shove the potatoes on my plate around, too nauseous to eat anything. The lump in my throat makes swallowing impossible.

Cassian clears his throat and points to Azriel and Elain. “So how long has this been going on?” Nesta jabs her elbow into his ribs, which earns her an “oww”, and throws me an apologetic look.

Besides Mor, only Lucien and Nesta know about the bond between me and Azriel. Their concern a constant reminder of the bond I try so hard to ignore.

“Well…” Azriel coughs, noticeably uncomfortable with being put on the spot. “It all happened very quickly. We spent a lot of our nights up and talking and realized we didn’t want to hold back anymore.”

He gazes down at her, smiling. I recognize that look. The realization twists the knife in my heart.

That’s how I look at him.

—————————

“Are you even listening?” Lucien waves a hand in front of my face to snap me out of my haze. His voice pulls me back to the present, but the ache remains.

I rub my eyes. “Uh… sorry. What exactly were you saying?”

He crosses his arms and looks down at me. “I was asking if you wanted to go training with me. But it seems what you really need is some sleep.”

I roll my eyes and stand up. “You know me so well, Lu.” I pat his shoulder and walk out the door. “See you at dinner tonight.”

Velaris is most beautiful at night, but nothing can beat the quiet and peace of the early mornings.

I walk down the high street, greeting some of my favorite vendors with a smile, until I reach the familiar townhouse.

After I officially became part of Rhysand’s inner circle, he offered me to stay at his townhouse.

It had many perks: no rent, right in the heart of Velaris, and an endless wine supply thanks to Rhysand’s "secret" wine cellar.

There is really only one downside.

“I didn’t think you would be back so soon.” Azriel sits at the dinner table eating breakfast. He has his fighting leathers on, probably on his way to the House of Wind for Valkyrie training.

Cassian and Azriel still train the Valkyries every morning. Sometimes I join, but only when Nesta drags me up there.

“Well, sorry to disappoint.” I laugh awkwardly. “I’m going to head upstairs to rest. Say hello to Nesta for me.” The words taste bitter, a poor attempt to mask the hurt.

I turn around before he has the chance to say something else, the lump in my throat threatening to choke me.

Yes, that is the downside. The constant reminder of what I had lost and could never have.

Him.

——————

The dining room buzzes with conversation as everyone settles in for dinner.

Azriel and Elain sit together, a vision of contentment that sends a pang through my heart.

Across the table, Lucien’s jaw is tight, his gaze fixed on his plate.

“Thank you all for coming,” Rhysand begins, standing at the head of the table. “I have an important announcement to make.”

He glances at Lucien and me, a hint of apology in his eyes. “We’ve decided to support Eris in overthrowing Beron.

Lucien and you,” he points at me, “will lead the mission to the Autumn Court.”

A murmur runs through the room. Lucien looks up, his eyes meet mine.

There is a mixture of determination and vulnerability in his gaze that makes my heart ache.

The Autumn Court doesn’t hold great memories for either of us.

But before I can fully process Rhysand’s words, Azriel stands abruptly, his expression dark and tense.

“Why them?” Azriel’s voice is sharp, a stark contrast to his usual calm demeanor. “Why not send someone else?”

Rhysand frowns slightly, clearly not expecting this reaction.

“Both of them have a unique advantage given their history with Eris and the Autumn Court. It’s a strategic decision.”

Azriel’s eyes flicker to me, a storm of emotions swirling within them. “I don’t like it. It’s too dangerous.”

I feel a surge of frustration. Azriel’s protectiveness, though touching, is misplaced and completely out of character.

“What’s your problem, Azriel?” I snap, unable to hold back.

“I’m more than capable of leading this mission. Or do you think I’m not good enough to do my job?”

His eyes narrow, the tension between us thickening. “That’s not what I meant,” he retorts, his voice lower but no less intense.

“I just don’t think it’s wise to send specifically you two into such a volatile situation. You can’t just throw yourself into danger like that.”

My heart pounds in my chest. “That’s rich coming from you. You’re always in danger, always risking everything. How is that different from this mission?”

“It’s different because—” Azriel stops himself, glancing at Elain, who is watching us with wide eyes. He seems to struggle for a moment before finishing, “It doesn’t matter, just let someone else do the mission. You’re an important asset to this court.”

Before I could respond with something I’d surely regret, Elain’s voice cuts through the tension.

“Azriel, stop.” Her voice is calm but firm, a hint of desperation in her eyes. “This isn’t helping.”

Azriel turned to Elain, his expression softens slightly, but the tension remains. He takes a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. “I’m sorry. I just… I worry.”

Lucien’s gaze hardens, “We’ve faced worse,” he says, a challenge in his tone. “We are capable enough to lead this mission, we don’t need your approval, Shadowsinger.”

Azriel’s jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek. “It’s not about capability. It’s about safety. I don’t want to see anyone get hurt.”

“Anyone?” I echo, my voice rises. “Or just Elain’s mate?”

The words hang in the air, charged with emotion. Azriel flinches slightly.

“This has nothing to do with Lucien being Elain‘s mate,” he says, though the slight tremor in his voice betrays him.

“But it does, doesn’t it?” My words laced with venom. “If Lucien were to get hurt, it would cause Elain distress, that’s how a mating bond works. And we can’t have that, can we?”

Elain looks down, her face unreadable, while Lucien’s gaze flickers between Azriel and me.

“We all know the risks,” Lucien says more calmly this time, “And we’re prepared to face them.”

Rhysand interjects, his voice low but authoritative. “Enough. We’re all on the same side here. This is a mission we need to undertake for the greater good. Personal feelings need to be set aside.”

I take a deep breath and try to steady the storm of emotions within me. Rhysand is right, the last thing we need is Azriel and me fighting.

Rhysand sits down, his tone final. “This mission is vital. We need to trust each other and stay focused. We’ll discuss this further tomorrow. For now, let’s try to enjoy the evening.”

The atmosphere is strained as we resume our meal. I can feel Azriel’s gaze on me.

Lucien reaches over, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze. It was a small gesture, but it meant everything in that moment.

I don’t say a word throughout the whole dinner. Choosing to stay quiet instead of lashing out.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that this mission would change everything.

---

The garden of the River House is a haven of tranquility. Blooming flowers and lush greenery everywhere Elain truly is a talented gardener.

I find Lucien leaning against a stone pillar, his gaze lost in the Sidra's gentle flow.

I approach him quietly, the cool evening air brushing against my skin. “Mind if I join you?” I ask softly.

Lucien looks up, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Of course not. I was just enjoying the peace before the storm.”

I halt beside him, the tension from the dinner still coils tightly in my chest. “Quite the announcement, wasn’t it?”

He nods, his expression thoughtful. “I knew something like this was coming, but hearing it confirmed… it’s different.

Eris must be desperate if he reached out to Rhysand.”

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “Yes, it’s a lot. I wish Rhys would have told us separately. This topic is already very emotional I really didn’t need Azriel’s… concern too.”

Lucien’s eyes darken at the mention of Azriel. “He’s protective, that’s clear. But he doesn’t have the right to undermine your abilities.”

“It’s not just that,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. “His words, his actions… they confuse me. One moment he’s distant, the next he’s overly concerned. I don’t understand him.”

Lucien’s gaze softens, a flicker of understanding in his eyes. “He cares about you. He might not be aware of it but you’re his mate, bond snapping into place or not, it’s his priority to keep you safe. That can’t be changed, even if he’s in love with someone else.”

I look away, the garden blurring before my eyes. “It hurts, Lucien. Seeing him with Elain, pretending to be something they’re not. I don’t know how to deal with it.”

Lucien reaches out, his hand covering mine. “You’re not alone in this. We’ve all got our battles to fight, and sometimes the hardest ones are with our own hearts.”

A moment of silence stretches between us, the night air filled with the scent of blooming flowers.

“And what about you?” I ask, turning to look at him. “How are you handling all of this? Eris, the Autumn Court… it can’t be easy for you.”

Lucien’s expression grows somber. “It’s not. But I’ve come to terms with my past and everything my father did to me. I knew this was going to happen. Eris has the chance to change things, to make the Autumn Court a better place. I can’t turn my back on that.”

He smiles at that. “And maybe, when all of this is over, we’ll find some semblance of peace.”

As we stand there, the garden enveloping us in its quiet embrace, I feel a sense of calm settle over me. Whatever challenges lay ahead, I know we have each other’s backs.

—————————

The war room in the House of Wind is filled with dread as we gather around the large oak table.

Rhysand stands at the head, his usual easy demeanor replaced by a grave seriousness.

To his right, Amren sits with her usual enigmatic expression, while Cassian leans against the wall, arms crossed and a stern look on his face.

Azriel is on my left, his gaze unreadable, and Lucien sits across from me, his eyes focused and determined.

Rhysand unfurls a detailed map of the Autumn Court, its forests and strongholds marked with meticulous detail.

“Eris has provided us with information about Beron’s movements and the layout of his court. Our objective is to infiltrate the main stronghold, gather intelligence, and support Eris in his efforts to dethrone Beron.”

Lucien nods, his jaw set. Rhys continues. “We’ll enter through the southern border. Eris has arranged for a distraction that will draw most of Beron’s guards away from the main stronghold. This will give us the opportunity to slip in and meet with Eris.”

Amren leans forward, her sharp eyes assessing the map. “And what about Koschei? He’s been a wild card in all of this. His alliance with Beron could complicate things.”

Rhysand nods in agreement. “Koschei is a concern. According to Eris, Koschei has been providing Beron with dark magic. We need to be prepared for any magical traps or barriers.”

Azriel’s voice cuts through the discussion. “I’ll handle the reconnaissance. I’ll fly ahead and ensure the path is clear before they move in.”

I glance at him, he hasn’t looked at me or said a single thing to me since yesterday. If I didn’t know better I would say he was sulking.

Rhysand continues, “Once inside, our main goal is to secure the throne room and neutralize Beron’s guards. Eris will confront Beron directly. You,” he gestures to Lucien and me, “need to be ready to support him.”

Lucien nods again, his eyes meeting mine across the table. “We’ll be ready.”

Rhysand’s gaze softens slightly as he looked at us. “This mission is dangerous, but it’s necessary. Any questions?”

I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the responsibility settle on my shoulders. “What if things go wrong? Do we have an extraction plan?”

Amren smirks. “We have a plan. Azriel and I will be your backup. If things go south, we’ll get you out, girl.”

Azriel nods, his eyes meeting mine. “You won’t be alone out there. We’ll be watching.”

There is a moment of silence as everyone absorbs the gravity of this mission.

Finally, Rhysand speaks again, his voice resolute. “We leave at dawn. Get some rest and prepare yourselves.”

As we all stand to leave, Azriel catches my arm. “Can I talk to you for a moment?” he asks, his voice low.

I nod, following him to a quieter corner of the room. “What is it, Azriel?”

He hesitates, searching for the right words. “I know you’re capable. But this mission… it’s dangerous, and I can’t shake the feeling that something might go wrong. Just promise me you’ll be careful.”

His concern should touch me, but I can’t help and feel angry. “I know the risks, Azriel. And I’ll be careful. But you need to trust me to do my part.”

He sighs, running a scarred hand through his hair. “It’s not that I don’t trust you or your abilities. I just… I can’t lose you.”

Before I can respond, Lucien approaches.“Ready?” Lucien asks, his eyes flicker between Azriel and me. I nod, giving Azriel one last look.

“Ready.”

[oukabarsburgblr]

come a little closer so you can fuck me better

It was the third quarter of a semester. Where college students crammed their heads in trying to understand 200+ slides of lecture before their test the next morning. Assignments deadlines approaching and quizzes seemed never ending. That was the case for almost all students and one of the courses taking the heavy hitters was engineering.

(m/n) (l/n) had been away from his friends, closer to his groupmates, scrambling to finish their lab reports before the submission link was closed. He unfortunately had to give half-assed replies to most of his associates, especially his two love interests.

They had something, affectionate and it ran deep but the (h/c) never made a choice between the sun and the moon.

He didn't expect any visitors when a knock echoed on his wooden door to his room. (m/n), lax in shorts and a plain t-shirt opened it to find Daisuke smiling at him, a box of food in his hand.

"Figured you haven't had dinner yet." His dimples carved into his cheeks as he smiled, his dark-hued eyes gleaming down at his beloved.

(m/n) smiled at him, bags forming under his own (e/c) eyes as he hugged the ravenette. "Already ate some leftovers but that's nice of you." "Really? Then just keep these in your pantry." He meant the shared pantry of his house, a section of his block on the same floor, which (m/n) did not prefer using since housemates always stole his shit.

"I'll just stuff it in Haru's freezer." "Where is he?" (m/n) invited Daisuke in, the ravenette tugging off his shoes, taking off his leather jacket and hung it on the coat rack in the corner of the shared room.

(m/n) slid back onto the chair, facing his desk as he picked up his tablet pen, continuing to write numbers and equations on the surface of his gadget. "He went home. Said he had a concert to catch." "In exam season?" "Dude's crazy."

Haru was (m/n)'s roommate, a tall quiet blonde who was with the (h/c) way back since preschool. He always disliked (m/n) bringing his so-called lovers into his room, especially Sousuke." A racket from his doorknow followed by annoying and fast knocks on his door.

(m/n) was about to stand once again but Daisuke beat him to it, pulling the door open with a frown on his face.

Sousuke, whose half of his face was covered with a green checkered scarf, glared immediately at the equally annoyed ravenette. A plastic bag bunched up in his clenced fist. "Whatchu' got there?" Hazel eyes perked up at the sight of (m/n) behind Daisuke and he pushed the latter aside to enter the room, throwing his coat on Haru's bed.

"You said your graph papers were out. Passed by and thought I could get some." (m/n) giddily reached out for the plastic bag, pulling out the almost scrunched green checkered papers. "Thanks. Almost went down to buy some."

Sousuke leaned to kiss (m/n)'s hair but was pushed by Daisuke. They both almost wrangled each other in the process but both were slapped by the (h/c) who forced the two to sit on his bed before he could entertain them.

"The submission is in four hours and there's zero progress on the abstract. I'm too busy organizing the others so either you shut up or get out." Immediately, the two sat up straight with their mouths closed. The two was easy for (m/n) to handle. They were almost alike, although the opposites of each other.

The (h/c) continued to grind his work, turning on his laptop. Ears stuffed with earbuds, some tunes blasting in his ear canal, drowning out the rare civil conversation Sousuke and Daisuke were having while relaxing on his single-sized bed.

Every now and then, there would a groan or a curse from the frustrated (h/c) who was suffering at the incompetency of his assigned groupmates. His leg bouncing up and down, his foot hitting the floor as he mashed the keyboards of his laptop, desperate to finish his work.

An hour passed and he stretched his arms, pulling off the charger to his laptop and took it with him as he slumped himself on the bed, his head in Daisuke's lap and his legs draped over Sousuke's torso. The redhead sat up as he pulled the (h/c) closer who slapped his hand away. "I'm not finished. Fucking hell, who passed these assholes?!"

He placed the laptop on his thighs, still typing away as Daisuke ran his fingers through his hair, occasionaly raking out a tangled strand or two. "I'm gonna die with the integrated project." (m/n) groaned, backspacing his teammate's work before proceeding to paraphrasing the previous sentences.

Sousuke and Daisuke continued to talk to one another, (m/n) chirping in while laying in between them, his bottom now in between Sousuke's thighs, he could feel the hardness of the redhead's jeans poking through but a boner isn't going to score his GPA.

"FINALLY!!" He yelled out, submitting his work as he slammed the laptop shut and carefully placing it on the floor. "You done?" Daisuke hummed, pushing back (m/n)'s baby hairs. The (h/c) nodded, his arm over his eyes as he could feel his body finally relaxing, sinking into the plush of his bed.

"I HATE....freeriders." "One's right in front of you." "I am not. I just so happen not liking to lead." In order of (m/n), Daisuke and Sousuke's voice. The two begin to banter once again. Daisuke bringing up his past experience working with Sousuke in a group project.

(m/n) pulled his arm away, staring at the popcorn ceiling of his dorm room, he had only noticed that it was already late. He wasn't even sure when Daisuke had entered his room. That's how much he had been holed up, finishing his homework.

He had been so tense the past few days, tension building up his shoulders, his tired eyes darkening for every missed hour of sleep. (m/n)'s whole body was so tired just from the past week and he could feel something burning up in the bottom of his stomach.

It was a fail attempt at secretly rubbing his ass onto Sousuke's crotch who immediately turned his attention onto the flustered (h/c). His mouth was agape as (m/n) stuttered to reason himself. "What?! Don't act so shocked...I'm just fucking frustrated."

He propped his elbows up, ready to leave before Daisuke pulled him down. "Frustrated? Frustrated what?" "College frustrated. Work frustrated, fuck. My damn pants are frustrated too."

Scarred fingers rubbed into the plush of his exposed thighs, reminding (m/n) that he had only adorned a thin and short outfit. Black eyes staring deeply into his, Daisuke's face was calculating, analysing his expression.

"You're not slick. Tryna' hump on me." Sousuke mumbled, dragging his tongue across (m/n)'s inner thigh earning a squeak. "As if. The both of you kept arguing like children. I might as well suck off a sex toy if that's all you're going to do."

"Sex toy?" Sousuke raised an eyebrow. A smirk on his lips. "Like you'd be satisfied with just that." He grumbled, smacking his thigh, a yelp from the (h/c) who felt something hardened as his head was still in Daisuke's lap.

"Quit it and just get on with it." (m/n) mumbled, turning to the side, his legs kicking at the redhead whose lust grew a thousand times more fervent as he pulled the (h/c)'s waist, ass smacking right on his crotch as he teased (m/n) who smothered his face into Daisuke's thigh.

(m/n) was now on his stomach, refusing to acknowledge Sousuke who was coercing him to continue. It was a rare dynamic. Sousuke would be quiet during their intimate encounters but his mouth becomes oddly chatter-ish around Daisuke who was the opposite.

"Just a little push. You did it five minutes ago, you can do it now." Sousuke was persuading (m/n) to rub himself on the redhead's crotch, his jeans stretching holding his length and (m/n) peeked behind him to see a grinning horny idiot.

"You're a cunt..." He mumbled again before moving. Rubbing his butt covered with shorts on Sousuke's groin, dragging his mound, pushing down on his erection. He could feel the friction on his balls as hos shorts was tugged down lightly just so his tip was peeking from his waistband.

(m/n) looked up to see Daisuke as the culprit, who was still silent, watching him with a blank expression but behind his eyes spoke otherwise. Their lust was burning and so was his.

Sousuke moaned, his hands rubbing up (m/n)'s sides as he pushed up his shirt, fingers travelling and locking onto his nipples, pinching them. The (h/c) mewled, having his chest groped as he desperately humped himself on the redhead's covered cock, slamming short bounces against Sousuke.

"I need it. I need the real thing." He whined desperately, his pitch tuning high as he dipped his head into Daisuke's crotch. His tongue flat against the ravenette's slacks and his teeth barely grazing on the covered hard cock.

(m/n) yelped again when his torso was forcibly turned, his face hot and Sousuke had a perverted grin. "How bad d'you want it?" "Bad. Really f-fucking bad." His words slipped as his hips stuttered.

A hand abruptly gripped his chin as Sousuke forcefully pulled his shirt off of him. Two fingers knocked into his palate as the redhead shoved his hand up (m/n)'s mouth. "You want it? You wanna fuck the two of us? Breed yourself like a horny rabbit?"

The tip of his cock was flicked and (m/n) gagged painfully, but his pleasure spiked and precum drooled onto his own stomach. Daisuke pulled away from (m/n)'s cock as he began to cup the (h/c)'s pecs, his hand squeezing the mound.

(m/n) nodded his head, when Sousuke's fingers began to press deeper in his mouth as he felt the redhead hump his ass. His tongue desperately lapping at the rough digits as he gasped when the redhead pulled his hand away.

"Prep yourself. It's time you get to work." Sousuke grinned.

This wasn't supposed to be their dynamic. (m/n) was used to having the redhead prep him, eat his ass out and fuck him swiftly like the pillow princess that he is. Daisuke was the same too, except more foreplay and less tongue but he had never needed to prepare himself, letting the two work their way into him because it was usually them getting riled up, not the other way around.

But (m/n) was desperate as he shimmied his shorts down, tugging off the bunched clothing from his ankle as he shakily reached down. Sousuke pulled his shoulder to lay him on his side and the (h/c) could see his jeans stretched out holding in his cock that he wanted to stuff himself with so badly.

He wanted to complain that he was dry but Daisuke had pulled his legs up, folded him in half and spat directly on his asshole before letting him fall back onto the bed. (m/n) was shocked and the ravenette was still quiet, urging him to continue.

A finger pushed in past the tight rim of his hole and he whimpered at the dry feeling, carving himself while struggling to hold his leg up but Sousuke had propped it up himself, pushing his hand to cup under his knee, letting him fully exposed to the redhead.

"Mmnn...it kinda hurts- annh mmf nggh anh-" He was corrected by his own body when he accidentally grazed his own prostate. His hole was still dry but the scratchy feeling managed to still bring pleasure to his leaking cock as he put another finger in and began to masturbate in front of the two men.

His hips were moving as he gripped his bedsheets, moaning and mewling. He was taken aback when Sousuke licked a stripe up his crack and balls. The redhead sucked on his base before focusing on his filled and twitching hole.

Daisuke used that moment of shock to pull his hair, forcibly pulling his head up as he shoved his tongue down (m/n)'s throat. The latter gagging at the sudden attack and he sucked on the ravenette's wet muscle.

Sousuke was too busy munching, pushing (m/n)'s finger apart to spread his hole as he stuck his tongue inside. Sucking and spitting at the rim.

-

Ugh i lost the inspo when i fell asleep. Tell me if you want a finished version and ill reblog it to tell u mofos. 🤞🏼 waka-chan out.

@tehyunnie @rainnyydaysworld @webwanderer @a-short-ass-disappointment @chikai-k @mello-life25 @miyuuuki @simpsations @sugar-p0p @kiiyoooo @helloanime @garlicforthewin

[soapybutt17]

Night Showers

Summary: A shower, a missing condom, and Soap doing his best to get on his Captain's nerves (the 20 laps around the entire base was worth it). Character: John Price x F!Wife!Reader. Simon "Ghost" Riley. Kyle "Gaz" Garrick. John "Soap" MacTavish. Word Count: 2,168 Chapter Warnings: Smut. Unprotected Penetration. Creampies. P in V. Oral Sex (F receiving). Alternate Universe. Soap just being a little shit for the giggles and all. Unedited as usual. A/N: To the anon that sent me the request, this is for you. I just can't get this idea out of my head and it shows.

Masterlist | Series Masterlist || Request are Open

One of the few perks of being part of the upper ranks were the privilege of having your own time to bathe. But unlike other assholes that prefer being in first, you preferred to be the last one to step foot in the communal showers. You prefer taking your time, lathering yourself up to the perfect suds and savoring every single minute of the cold water against your skin.

You preferred your privacy as much as the next person and practically living in the base, you don’t get that privilege as often as you want unless you were here. It was ironic seeing it was a communal space and there was an off chance another female member of the base would slip back in but it was rare especially at this time of the night where you were certain almost everyone aside from the people on watch duty were fast asleep.

The frigid cold water would have woken you up but the longer you stood in the water, the more did you feel the weight of the day get to you and you were close to falling asleep from where you stood. You were close to ready to finally get to bed and sleep before the following day of drills.

You felt a hand before you realize it and instincts had equipped you to act fast and hit whoever was ballsy enough to touch you. But it seems your husband was faster than you as he held onto your fisted hand. A smirk playing on his lips for catching you off guard.

“You’re not supposed to be here.” You whispered screamed at him at this point. The panic of someone possibly entering immediately crossed your mind and the possibility of either of you (mostly him) getting in trouble for being in the same shower together.

“Locked the door on my way in if that’s what you’re worried about, Love.” He smirked and only now did you come to realize that he was butt naked just as much as you.

You felt the heat on your cheeks at the realization. It’s been far too long since you’ve had even a semblance of intimacy with your husband. With mission and reports constantly pulling the both of you apart, having him so close to you now only brought the much deprived need in you to come back full force for him to see.

“Fucking hell, cold as ice.” He muttered as the water has finally hit his skin.

Your eyes gazed at the bear of a man you had the privilege of calling your husband. The way the water slither against his hairy chest and down to his happy trail all the pent up desire has come and you did not know if you had the mental fortitude to resist him at this point.

“Seein’ something you like, Love?” He teased, his watercolor eyes gazing down at you as he caught you staring.

“Very.” You quipped turning back to the waters to wash away the last of the suds that was still covering your skin. “But I think you already know that by now.” You muttered looking over your shoulder to look down at his manhood alive and awake you to see.

“Most definitely.” He chuckled, his arms found their way around your waist, pulling you further into his torso, his manhood pressing against your back in the process. “And you could feel it right now.”

“John…” You warned. You’ve had far too many close calls with the man in the past, had it not been for everyone’s lack of idea about what was going on between the both of you, you both would have been caught in one too many compromising situation.

“I’m doing nothing, Love.” He chuckled, his hand slowly creeping from your stomach up towards the swells of your breast giving a gentle squeeze before one hand rested against the columns of your neck and the other holding onto your jaws to keep you in place. “Nothing at all.” He purred, lips finding their place against where your neck and shoulders met.

“John not here.” You warned him again, the fact that the doors to the showers were locked did not reassure you at all. You still fear the possibility that someone had seen you then seen your husband walk inside in the middle of the night.

“Where then? Name a time and place.” He propositioned.

“Your room, after you shower.” You finally relent knowing that when your husband was in the mood just as much as you were, nothing would stop him from having you.

“Deal.” He turned your head until your lips met his own in a searing kiss that drowned you more than the water that showered above you both.

Your hand found their way against his wet beard, trying and failing to control his kiss, savoring the first of many kisses he was more than willing to give you for the rest of the night.

Fuck Protocol. Fuck Reputation. You will be fucked and you will make the most out of it.

“I’ll meet you naked on your bed.” He practically commanded you now as he pulled away. Any other time you would have made the protest of him giving him orders the way that he did but you truly didn’t care at this point.

Nodding, you pulled away from his hold. The coldness of his absent touch did more damage than the water ever could. Without even looking back, you had toweled dried yourself and put on your clothes—ignoring the fact that it was your dirtied ones. You’re going to be naked once you’re back in bed anyways and made your way out of the showers and making sure to lock the door behind you in the process.

~

“God fucking damnit.”

With shaking legs, you peered down at your husband post-orgasm from between your legs as he began searching through his discarded pants. A few choice words escaped his lips as he continued on with his search. It was so unlike the Captain to be this antsy but it was given in the situation at hand.

“What?” You asked, dazed still from your release with just his mouth. You felt the ache on your lips from biting too hard and trying and somewhat failing to keep your moans and whimpers to a minimum.

“Condom.” He practically growled as he began to look around his room.

You blinked as his frustration was now in full force as he began to look around his room for another spare but no luck whatsoever.

“Just fuck me, John.” You whimpered, hand somehow finding their way towards your still too sensitive bud. Keeping yourself sated while you waited.

“But…”

“I’m on my pills, just fuck me already.” You were now practically demanding him at this point. “Please.”

You didn’t have to tell him twice as he dove right on top of you. Slotting himself in between your legs. He pulled you in for another searing kiss. Your arms and legs had immediately wrapped around him, urging him to finally fuck you but he was taking his sweet time—a time neither of you truly had with the night slowly fading into daylight.

“A fucking little menace you are, aren’t you?” He teased, grinding his pelvic bone against your nub. “Just so desperate for me are you?” He questioned, voice growling louder and instincts kicked in as you slapped your hand towards his mouth to quiet him down.

He did not like it one bit as he held both of your hands above your head.

“Did I fucking tell you to touch me, Pet?” He growled against your ears.

“John—you need to be quiet.” You whispered struggling to free from his hold.

“You don’t get to make orders here, Lieutenant.” He whispered against your ears, nipping at your lobe before his lips lingered against your cheeks and finding their way towards your lips but not truly kissing you. “Is that clear?”

“Yes.” You whimpered as his hips dug further into your core.

“Yes what, Lieutenant?”

“Yes, Captain.” You squealed as he finally slipped right into you.

The aching sting even with him preparing you lingered through your entire body. It was always a task in on itself as he held onto you. One hand held onto your own up above your head and the other held onto your leg and pulling it up as high as you physically could.

“Bloody fucking hell.” He groaned. “Fucking tight.” He muttered.

Without another word, his moved his hips, a gruelingly slow but deep pace that had you gasping at each piston. Your legs held onto his waist for dear life and your teeth bit against your lips stopping from any noise from escaping.

You watched all the control leave from your husband’s body as his thrust had gotten sloppy.

“Please…” You pleaded, even when you truly didn’t know what you were even begging for right now. “Please. Please. Please.”

You felt it before you realize what was going on, the spurts painted your insides and the mind numbing shiver that wrecked from your toes up to your head. You moaned, louder than you would have wanted it to be but your husband was quick to silence you with his lips. Pulling you into him, swallowing every moans and every whimper as he continued on with thrusting inside of you.

Finally, your husband had let go of your hands, you winced as blood began flowing right back and the familiar tingling sensation seeped through. He pulled away, looking down at you in the all too familiar adoration that you felt the same for him. You were sated, blissed and thoroughly satisfied from the longing you felt for your husband.

“Are you broken?” John inquired.

A playful smile rested on your face, the context that it was a question he often asked after any of his team were put in a bad spot. It was his own little way of asking anyone and everyone if they were alright.

“Split open, but I’ll survive.” You respond,

He smiled, chuckling at your antics. Before a flip has switch and his hand held onto you pulling you up and turning you until you were on your hands and knees. Without even missing a beat or even allowing you to say anything, he plunged himself right back into you.

“Good.” He chuckled leaning close to your ears. “There’s still more where that came from.”

~

Breakfast in the mess hall was boring and you preferred it that way. Enjoying your tea and toast and jam in the peace of the table you shared with John, Gaz, and Simon was all you could ask for after the grueling night you had with your husband.

Even from the frequent sips of his coffee, you know he was just trying his best to hide the smirk playing on his face. Last night had been a blur after the third round for you. When your husband was on a mission, nothing could truly stop him from taking what he wants and what he needed from you, you were all the more willing to give it to him if he needed it.

But with that being said, you also knew the consequences of your actions. The ache between your legs and the sore throat you were nursing with your ginger tea. There was also the array of hickeys and bruises that painted your entire body and you did your best to hide as much as possible even in the sweltering heat.

The next time you would even think about sleeping with your husband is when you’re both done with your deployment. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Aye Price!”

You winced, the peace of your own filthy thoughts of last night was ruined by Soap’s booming voice taking most of everyone’s attention (some already used to his morning antics, decided to just ignore him). You looked up towards the Scot and paled at the all too familiar foil packet in his grasp.

“Saw this in front of your room last night. Hope the lucky lady you had in your room was fine being raw dogged for the night.”

You could feel the fury boil from where you sat. You had noticed both Simon and Gaz strategically move a little farther away from where the Captain sat but they had an all good view of the man as he stood and ordered Soap to run the entire base twenty times.

It pissed John even more was the fact that Soap wasn’t all that afraid with his punishment, cackling as he skipped out of the mess hall, the condom still in his hand for everyone to see. Soap would truly not let him live this down.

His eyes slowly turned to you and this time it was you who was trying your best to hide the smile as you took another generous sip of your tea.

The consequence of his own actions it seems.

[pokedawriter]

Nymph!Reader x Sumeru!Men

Gn!reader, you're a nymph

How would the sumeru men react to finding you and your grotto

I still have no idea what I'm doing

I've never written for Cyno, Alhaitem or Scara so forgive me if something is out of character

Cyno

He's patrolling the desert. There have been lots of cave-ins in the area recently and he wants to figure out if there is a specific cause that he can solve or if he should just warn people about the area

As he walks, he feels the sand beneath his feet begin to fall and he tries to jump away but it's too sudden and he falls

He braces for impact but lands into a net of vines that gently lower him to the ground

Your standing next to him, arm extended with the sunlight on your back, looking gorgeous and radiant, then you speak

"I can't be-leaf someone fell into here. Water you doing here?"

Archons, he might have fallen in love with you at that moment

He asks you about the recent cave in and you tell him it the Wenut mating season, and they're all trying to make burrows for their young. An inexperienced male has been digging here but didn't dig deep enough, which is why there are so many cave-ins. You tell him to just wait a month or two for the season to end

The hole is fairly deep and so you build him a ladder out of vines and he promises to return

After reporting what happened with the cave-ins, he returns and finds you've been repairing your grotto in the mean time, removing the dirt and stones that fell

You're very excited to see him and take him deeper into your grotto, further underground

It's beautiful, with purple, white and yellow flowers illuminating the area. Glowing stones are scattered in the ceiling like stars

He makes a regular habit to visit you and introduces you to Tighnari pretty soon (but he doesn't visit much due to his incompatibility with the heat). You all like to have Genius Innovation TCG together (Cyno teaches you and gives you cards)

He finds himself falling asleep in your grotto, surrounded by the glowing flowers and flowing water

He has to stop visiting for a few months due to work, but tries to wrap it up as fast can to see you

When be returns, he finds your grotto has been severely damaged, much of the flora dying. He searches high and low for you, going to the deepest part of the grotto where rocks fall away and reveal a very weakened you

You tell him people found out about your grotto and stole as many of your rare plants as they could, weakening you greatly and you had to hide yourself and your remaining plants away

He's furious and immediately takes action

He works with Tighnari and Lesser Lord Kusanali to make you and your grotto a protected space

And though he can't punish the researchers for over-foraging (since you and your grotto weren't legally protected), he does let other researchers know of their actions, resulting in those researchers being shunned

He helps you and your grotto return to full health and always tries to visit once a week to 'keep away any trouble makers" (but he just wants to visit you)

You both often fall asleep together in the deepest part of the grotto, happy in each other's presence

Alhaithem

He was looking through the old archives. The scrolls and books here were no longer scientifically accurate, but were kept for record purposes

He's found an old book about mythical creatures of Sumeru: Aranara, Nymphs, Djinn, Rocs, and more. He decided to rent it out and give it a read

Reading it at his house wasn't an option as it would be too loud (Kaveh, whom he didnt feel like dealing with today), the Academia students and researchers were always bothering him if he was around (especially after the 'hero' title), so he decided to leave the city for a bit.

As he walked, he found a small cave and decided to read there

Inside was larger than he expected, with a small moss-covered shrine and little yellow flowers. He sat on one of the rocks to read

It was wonderfully calm and quiet. The right temperature, the trickle of water from a nearby stream, the rustle of the leaves... it was all perfect

So, he came back here again and again, reading his books late into the evenings

He was in the middle of his mythical creatures book, on Nymphs, when he felt a presence and immediately looked for it

You sat on the shrine, staring at him, head tilted in wonder

He looked between his book and its description of Nymphs and you... and it seems he found a mythical creature. Regardless, he continued to read and you continued to watch him

Eventually, he turned to you and asked why you were just staring at him, to which you shrugged and said "If a man were to walk in your yard everyday and read, doing nothing else at all, wouldn't you grow curious?"

He was mostly surprised by the fact you could respond. The book said that Nymph's were shy creatures who couldn't talk

But to you, this man had been a regular visitor to your grotto for months now. His scent was just part of your grotto, like the duskbirds and rishboland tigers. He wasn't a stranger at all

Alhaithem decided to ask you a few questions about Nymphs which you agreeably answered, even showing in the deeper parts of the grotto that he hadn't noticed were there

You both fell into a comfortable routine of him visiting you on his days off to read in comfortable silence while you worked on your grotto

Despite being able to talk in every language he could, he realized you couldn't read at all

He helped you learn how to read and you helped him relax and have the perfect reading spot

You became reading buddies, and even though you would ask him with question on words, it never bothered or annoyed him

He subtly made your grotto a legally protected area so if anyone messed with it, they would have to pay

You were his safe space, and in return, he would protect you too

Scara/Wanderer

Nahida asked him to go outside and touch grass more

Just kidding, she asked him to find a rare flower, only ever found underground in rare Nymph Gardens

She gave him a rough idea where he might be able to find it and off he went, grumbling the whole way

Finding the entrance to the cave wasn't hard. All he had to do then was follow the smell of fresh flowers. It was so simple for him (and most certainly didn't take him several days)

When he finally found your grotto, he couldn't find the flower Nahida had described for him and grumbled under his breath about it

This is where you come in: appearing next to his shoulder asking about what flower he was exactly talking about

You stare at him innocently even as he hold a swirl ball of anemo energy

You ask again and he asks who you are, cautious

"I'm the nymph of this grotto"

That can't be possible, Nymphs aren't real, surely you're pulling his leg

But you have flowers growing on you, the plants lean towards where you step and life seems to exude from you

He'll dispell his anemo attack and tell you about the flower. You nod and scoop it up a bit of dirt and grow the flower on it

He's wondering if there's a cost to it. You tell him it'll hurt you when he leaves with it. He asks what he owes you and you shrug and walk away to play with the springyness of a new fern

He brings the flower to Nahida then rushes back. Not because he's worried! He's just curious about the affects of removing the flower from your grotto (Nahida gives him a knowing smile as he leaves)

When he arrives, you're laying on the ground, looking unwell. He puts his hand to your forehead, and you're burning up

Why would you give the flower to him if it would hurt you so much?

"Because you needed it," you say with a smile

He'll take care of you for the next few days, your waking hours being filled with scolding and mild insults about how stupid it was to give all thay power to a stranger. What if they wanted to take advantage of you?

You laugh and smile. When he's not paying attention, you'll make little figurines out of flower of him

Then he'll notice and scold you for not resting properly, idiot (he does think it's very cute though)

He'll protest even when you insist you are perfectly healthy again

You'll take him to the deepest part of the grotto where you made a picture of the two of you in glowing flowers. He says it looks stupid, but you notice his little blush and giggle

He has to leave for a few days and during that time, treasure hoarders find your grotto

They have no respect for your plants, so you hide, slowly growing weaker and weaker as they pick and burn your plants

Needless to say, when Scara returns and sees you hanging on by a thread, he's pissed

He wipes them out and tends to you once again. It takes months this time until you are healthy, but he's by your side every step of the way

"Clearly, you can't take care of yourself, so I'll have to watch out for you! Hey! Don't giggle! What's so funny, idiot?"

[artyandink]

the art of heresy forged 2022

SUMMARY: Modern day, 2022, and you have no clue what’s going on. You knew what you went through. You knew it was real, but why were there people trying to convince you that everything that happened to you wasn’t real. Hell, you called bullshit. But you get your chance to fight back when you get a call at your door.

TW: psychological torture, trauma, angst, smut, drinking, consumption of drugs, smoking, mentions of sex, blood, murder, gore, Ben (cause he’s an individual warning), derogatory remarks, gunfire, murder, killing, lots of it, it’s The Boys so be careful guys, really creepy shit, crack, literal crack

STW: fingering, Ben being Ben, degradation, explicit spoken detail, practically manhandling

A/N - divider by @chachachannah

Song Inspo: Look What You Made Me Do by Taylor Swift

keep it quiet

NICARAGUA, 1983:

The sun hung low in the Nicaraguan sky, casting long shadows over the dense jungle. The air was thick with humidity, clinging to every leaf, every blade of grass, and every breath the small town's inhabitants took. A deep, unsettling quiet had settled over the place, punctuated only by the occasional call of distant birds or the rustle of leaves. The tranquility of the town was deceptive, however, masking the turmoil that had gripped the world beyond its borders.

In the heart of the town, a small news station buzzed with a rare energy. Reporters shuffled about, their voices tense, their faces drawn with concern. The camera lights were harsh against the evening gloom, casting sharp shadows on the walls of the makeshift studio. Outside, a handful of locals gathered, their curiosity piqued by the unusual activity. News had traveled fast, as it always did in small towns, and the disappearance of Soldier Boy was no exception. For the people of this remote corner of the world, the arrival of a famous superhero—however dire the circumstances—was an event worth witnessing.

Inside the studio, the main anchor, a seasoned reporter named Esteban Garcia, sat behind a worn wooden desk, straightening the stack of notes before him. His dark eyes were set with a determination that had been honed over years of covering stories that often blurred the lines between the ordinary and the extraordinary. But today, the story was unlike any other he had ever covered.

Esteban had been one of the first to receive the report that Soldier Boy, the legendary superhero and symbol of American might, had gone missing during a covert operation in Nicaragua. The details were still murky, shrouded in a haze of classified information and official denials. What was clear, however, was that the man who had once been invincible, the man who had been the living embodiment of strength and bravery, was now feared dead.

As Esteban shuffled his notes one last time, the door to the studio creaked open, and in walked a woman who seemed to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders. Crimson Countess was a striking figure; her red hair, usually fiery and untamed, was pulled back into a tight bun. Her crimson suit, once a beacon of power and confidence, seemed to have lost its luster, the fabric dull and wrinkled as if it, too, had been drained of life.

She moved with a heaviness that Esteban hadn't seen before, her every step measured, her every breath labored. As she approached the interview chair, he could see the dark circles under her eyes, the way her hands trembled ever so slightly. This was not the Crimson Countess the world had come to know—the fierce, unyielding force that had fought alongside Soldier Boy for years. This was a woman on the brink, teetering between despair and the desperate need to hold herself together.

"Thank you for coming, Countess," Esteban said, his voice gentle but firm. He gestured to the chair opposite him, and she lowered herself into it, her movements slow and deliberate. "I know this must be an incredibly difficult time for you."

Countess nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line. For a moment, she seemed unable to speak, her throat working to push down the grief that threatened to spill over. When she finally did find her voice, it was hoarse, raw with emotion.

"Difficult doesn’t even begin to cover it," she murmured, her eyes fixed on some point in the distance, far beyond the walls of the studio. "I’ve… I’ve been through a lot with Soldier Boy. We all have. But this… this is different."

Esteban nodded, giving her the space she needed to gather her thoughts. The silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken words, with the weight of shared history and the looming specter of loss. Outside, the gathering crowd pressed closer to the windows, straining to catch even the faintest whisper of what was being said inside.

"He was… he is," she corrected herself quickly, as if to banish the thought of his death from existence, "the strongest person I’ve ever known. Indestructible, or so we all thought. To think that he could be… gone… it’s like waking up in a nightmare you can’t escape from."

Her voice cracked on the last word, and she closed her eyes tightly, as if that could somehow block out the pain. Esteban felt a pang of sympathy. He had seen many interviews like this before—family members of the missing, the grieving, the lost. But this was different. This was Crimson Countess, a superhero, someone who was supposed to be beyond the reach of such ordinary, human emotions. And yet here she was, broken in a way that no enemy had ever managed to break her.

"Can you tell us what happened?" Esteban asked softly, careful not to push too hard, but knowing that the world was desperate for answers. "Anything at all that you know?"

Countess opened her eyes and looked at him. For a moment, she seemed to be weighing her words, deciding how much to reveal, how much to hold back. Then, with a deep breath, she began to speak.

"It was supposed to be a routine mission," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "We’ve done this kind of thing a hundred times before—go in, neutralize the threat, get out. But something went wrong. I… I wasn’t there when it happened, I was in a different part of the field, but I spoke to him on the comms. He was… he was confident, as always. He didn’t think anything could go wrong."

She paused, swallowing hard, as if the memory of that last conversation was too much to bear. "But then we lost contact. Just like that. One minute, everything was fine, and the next… nothing. No signal, no word. Just… silence."

Esteban leaned forward, his brow furrowing in concern. "And you haven’t heard anything since? No communication from Soldier Boy or anyone else on the mission?"

Countess shook her head, her expression one of helplessness, an emotion she was clearly unaccustomed to. "Nothing. It’s like they vanished into thin air. The government’s been tight-lipped, as always. They’re saying it’s classified, that they’re ‘looking into it,’ but I know what that means. They think he’s dead. They just don’t want to say it."

The words hung in the air, heavy and ominous. Esteban could feel the tension in the room rising, the weight of the world’s expectations pressing down on this woman who had spent her life fighting battles that most people couldn’t even imagine. And now she was fighting a battle of a different kind—one that she had no idea how to win.

"What does this mean for you, Countess?" he asked after a long moment, his voice soft with understanding. "For the team? For the world?"

Countess looked at him, her eyes filled with a deep, abiding sorrow. "I don’t know," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I really don’t know. Soldier Boy was… he was the heart of the team. The backbone. Without him… I don’t know how we go on."

The room fell silent again, the weight of her words sinking in. Outside, the crowd had grown larger, their faces pressed against the glass, their eyes wide with fear and fascination. They had come to see a superhero, but what they were witnessing was something far more profound—a woman laid bare, stripped of the armor that had always protected her, struggling to make sense of a world that no longer made sense.

Esteban knew that he had to tread carefully now. He could see how close she was to the edge, how fragile her composure had become. But he also knew that the world was watching, waiting for answers, for some kind of closure. He took a deep breath, choosing his next words with care.

"Countess," he began gently, "the world has always looked to people like you and Soldier Boy for strength, for hope. In times of crisis, you’ve been the ones to lead us, to show us that even the darkest times can be overcome. What would you say to those who are watching right now? To those who are afraid?"

Countess stared at him for a long moment, her eyes searching his face as if looking for something—perhaps a lifeline, perhaps an escape. When she spoke, her voice was stronger, more certain, as if she had found some small reserve of the strength that had always defined her.

"I’d say that fear is a natural response to the unknown," she said slowly, the words coming out measured and deliberate. "But fear can’t be the end of the story. Soldier Boy… he wouldn’t want us to give up, to let fear consume us. He’d want us to fight, to keep going, no matter how hopeless it seems."

Her voice grew steadier as she spoke, the words seemingly giving her strength. "I don’t know what’s going to happen next. I don’t know if Soldier Boy is… if he’s really gone. But I do know that he wouldn’t want us to stop fighting. He’d want us to keep pushing forward, to keep believing that there’s a way out of this, even if we can’t see it right now."

Esteban nodded, feeling a sense of respect for this woman who, despite everything, was still finding a way to inspire hope. "Thank you, Countess," he said quietly. "I know that wasn’t easy."

Countess managed a small, tight smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. "Nothing about this is easy," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "But it’s what we have to do."

As the interview drew to a close, Esteban could see the exhaustion in her eyes, the way her body seemed to sag with the weight of it all. He knew that the moment the cameras stopped rolling, she would retreat back into the private hell she was living, the grief and uncertainty gnawing away at her resolve.

"Do you think he could still be out there?" Esteban asked, unable to resist the question that had been on his mind since the beginning of the interview. "Do you think Soldier Boy could still be alive?"

Countess looked at him, her eyes filled with a quiet desperation. "I have to believe he is," she said softly, the words laced with a fragile hope. "Because if he’s not… I don’t know how we move on from this."

The camera panned out, capturing the room in its entirety—the small, stark studio, the gathering crowd outside, and the lone figure of Crimson Countess, sitting in the harsh light, her face a mask of controlled despair. The broadcast would soon be over, but the impact of her words would linger long after the screen went dark.

NOW:

“Whatever you’re experiencing, it’s not real.” Your shrink - you still didn’t know whether her name was Emily or Earhart - assured you, but you knew better. “Vought only wants to help you get better.”

“They’ve been so called helping me for forty fucking years.” You gritted out, your fingers gripping the chair you were sitting on. The maroon chair, with some fugly beige cushions in this fugly beige room. You hated it.

Fuck all.

She sighed, leaning forward. “You exhibit signs of anger issues and PTSD. Vought is merely facilitating your recovery and return to glory.”

“They’re fucking with my head!” You burst out, standing up abruptly, surging forward and grabbing her throat, your eyes turning black, gleaming with wisps of purple. “Tell me the truth.”

Tell me the truth. It resonated through Eleanor’s head, and her eyes turned the same colour as yours, her jaw going slack as she stopped resisting.

“You’re not crazy.” She whispered, her eyes wide and unfocused. “You never were.”

You let her go, and her eyes returned back to normal, a shaky gasp escaping her lips. You bent forward, trapping her between yourself and the chair.

“You tell anyone what I just did, sweetie,” You warned lowly, “and I’ll snap your neck by the time I next come in here.”

“Of course.” She whispered, her voice cracking.

You sat back down on the armchair, cracking a smile as you examined the fear in her eyes. Good. “Shall we continue?”

They’d gotten into some weird shit.

“Is he always gonna be doing that?” Hughie whispered to Butcher, watching Ben crush some medicine and snort it like it was nothing. They’d broken him out of his cryogenic capsule, and it’s safe to say that he was an incredibly pissed off individual. Understandably so.

“Just let ‘im, it ain’t killing us.” Butcher replied under his breath, and then snapped into suave gent action when Ben cleared his throat and looked up. “Everythin’ alright, there, guv’nor?”

“Gotta add another name to my kill list.” He cleared his throat again, grunting distastefully.

“One more?” Hughie asked, eyes widening slightly, but he recovered. “Uh, w-who is that - the one you want to kill - who?”

Ben grunted again, snorting up more crushed pills. “Tricky bitch, she is. Superhero by the name of Psyke, she was my co-leader and fuck buddy. Real tricky to get past. She can create illusions that you’ll fall for if you’re a dumb piece’a shit, and if she gets her hands on you, game over.”

Butcher crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. “And why’s that?”

“One, she’s hot as fuck. And a great fuck.” Ben chuckled, reminiscing the days. “Second, she’ll just whisper a command and you’ll do it no questions asked.”

“No problem, guv.” Butcher smirked confidently, but Hughie raised his hand. “Put your hand the fuck down, we ain’t in school.”

“Cocksucker.” Ben snorted - not recreational drugs this time - drinking his beer. “What is it?”

“Psyke, she… she’s impossible to get to.” Hughie revealed, scrolling on his phone. “Apparently she had a psychotic outbreak after you were put in the freezer in ‘83. Vought’s holding her for rehabilitation and therapy. Has been for forty years.

Ben saw the picture of the old newspaper, the title blaring in his face. ‘Psyke in Rehab for Violent Behaviour’, but no explanation. It told him one thing— that you must have known something was wrong.

And Vought imprisoned you for it, the bastards.

There wasn’t a world in which Vought would imprison their darling, their golden girl. Not unless she went rogue.

“That means she’s deep in a Vought facility.” Butcher smirked, glancing between the two others. “We get the team together, launch an attack on the cunts holdin’ her, we can get her out quick an’ easy.”

Ben’s protective instincts over you flared up when he thought of what Vought could’ve done to you. “She gets out unharmed, y’hear?”

“Loud and clear, guv. Not a scratch.”

Oh, fuck. You could go for one of those at the moment.

You were left on the ground, on your back, trembling. Your brain felt like it’d been stretched and then left to rebound against all four walls of your brain, close to turning into mush had you not been fighting the drug injected into your system with everything you had.

“She’s resisting.” You heard one doctor mutter to another, just as searing, white hot pain made the corners of your vision turn black.

And then they shaped into the nightmare land, taking over your vision until it was half reality half illusion, messing with your perception until you weren’t sure which was actually happening.

You could see Nicaragua.

The blood, being distracted by a legion only to find Ben being subdued by Novichok.

Fighting off every member of Payback, making them turn on one another with nothing but a hand on their shoulder and a persuasive whisper.

Getting hit with a cheap shot from behind, and both yours and Ben’s bodies were dragged across the dirt.

Only difference was that you were barely awake. Awake enough to see his unconscious face as they took him away and put him God knows where.

“Have we tried giving her a stronger dose?” A male doctor replied, the corners of your vision blinking from reality, back to nightmare, reality, nightmare, reality- nightmare—

Keys jangled. “We give her a stronger dose and she’ll go up in a stroke. Homelander wants her alive.”

“I don’t understand why, she’s a walking weapon.”

“Talking like I’m not there.” You rasped out, like you hadn’t spoken in a hundred years. A rough chuckle left your mouth as you shakily pushed yourself up, the pounding in your head still there but finding it easier to regain muscle control. “Ballsy move, especially for a couple of dickless scientists.”

You pointed at the lady. “You’re already dickless, so you don’t count.”

The two doctors looked between each other, getting more and more anxious as you found your feet, staggering towards them, almost shuffling, footsteps uneven.

“Uh, what are you-” They froze when you clapped your hands on their shoulders, leaning forward so you were speaking in their ears, your iris turning into gleaming purple mixed with black.

“Kill each other.” You whispered, and the command resonated. The urge to pick up their pens and go postal overtaking them.

Kill each other.

Kill each other.

It went through their mind, body, soul. Clipboards flattering to the floor as their irises turned black and swirled with purple, turning to each other slowly. Teeth gritting, veins popping as the two doctors looked into each other’s eyes with pure hatred and a chuckle left your lips as you watched them click their pens and go straight for the jugular.

Over and over again.

“Sleep tight, bitches.” You muttered in satisfaction just as armed Vought soldiers burst in, two forcing you to your knees while two others went to check the tangled, lifeless bodies of the two doctors running rampant.

And you did that.

It felt amazing.

1980:

Mmh, fuck.

“Bet you’re so wet for me, pretty thing.” Ben chuckled against your lips as you stumbled back into the his hotel room, the rapid undoing of clothes not privy to the two of you as the curtains were wide open. Everyone in the street below could see the filthy way yours and Ben’s lips joined together over and over again, eyes closed but hands familiar with where they needed to go to make the other moan.

Ben separated from you to go and close the curtains, leaving the taste of whiskey on your tongue, still in his slacks from the press conference while he’d ridden you of everything but that delicious fucking lace you’d worn under your dress.

He’d been eyeing you all day in that thing, and all he thought about was having it off.

“Didn’t have enough after coming like a faucet on my cock this morning, hm?” He added, toeing his shoes off and working on his belt, his lips descending to your neck and leaving hot trails of kisses and rough sucks. “Nah, you didn’t.”

Your hands slid up his chest, and then one went down to palm him over his slacks, which had the vein in his neck popping, jaw tensing as his head fell back for a quick second.

Then he took control of the situation, tearing your panties off and throwing you onto the bed, the bra going with it as he sank two thick fingers knuckle deep in your pussy.

“Shit-” You gasped, arching off the bed, your legs widening instinctively as he set a brutally delicious pace, leaning forward to lick and suck at your nipple, biting and tugging at it with his teeth at his fancy.

Ben only laughed, manoeuvring your body how he wanted, rocking your hips in time with his fingers, hearing your moans, seeing your eyes roll back, knowing you were close-

NOW:

“TMI.” Hughie groaned, putting his hand out and shaking his head. “Really, dude. Ew.”

Ben frowned. “TMI- the fuck does that mean?” He thought for a second, then waved Hughie off. “Eh, I don’t give two shits.” Then he chuckled at the memory, nodding and hitching his shield higher on his arm. “Psyke, man. Best fuck you could ask for. She’d ride me like a damn champ, knows how to suck you off too. Had a mouth like a goddamn vacuum-”

“As much as I want to hear about your old buddy’s jerkin’ off talents, guv,” Butcher cut in with a wave of his hands as they walked, “we have half an hour to get in an’ out.”

“We’ll get her.” Ben assured, finding a Vought guard and slamming his shield into their face, successfully breaking their nose and making them drop, crumpling like a wet sheet of paper.

“Fuck you.” He added, sneering at the unconscious guard before trudging further through the halls, Hughie and Butcher keeping up right as the alarms blared red.

The moment they did, you - in your cell - smirked, finding an opportunity. The guards were about to restrain you, but you used their grip on your arms to knock them into each other, rolling out of the way and grabbing their handgun, shooting them both once each in the head before anyone could react.

You barely dodged a bullet (literally), jumping and spinning, whipping your leg around so your heel could connect with the side of one’s head, snapping it sideways and sweeping another guard’s legs out from under them, grabbing their head and snapping their neck.

All the guards were down, so you got up, looking at the massacre - the art - you’d created with a small smile on your face and an approving nod.

“Cocksuckers.” You muttered under your breath before shaking your head, clearing the corners of your vision of Nicaragua, induced by whatever shit they put into your system. Wasn’t the good shit either, it was bad shit.

You really needed a smoke round about now.

But now wasn’t the time, so you picked up the guard’s assault rifle and pocketed a few rounds, making your way through the clinically white halls with it held up, popping a few rounds through the heads of the guards you met.

Eventually, of course, all your rounds were depleted soon enough, and you resorted to using your hands (and not in the sexy way), Nicaragua threatening to take over your vision

“You can check that way, guv, she might be there.” A voice with an accent said gruffly, and when you looked around the corner, you saw a boot disappearing down a side corridor, and two other guys. You stepped up behind the smaller one, your bare feet silent on the cold floor.

With a sharp movement, you grabbed the smaller one’s shoulders, yanking him against you as your powers activated again, ready to strike. “Move a muscle and I tell this one to dislocate his own shoulder. Maybe break a leg.”

“What the fuck- I don’t wanna break a leg!” The dude held to you squeaked to the taller guy, who turned around, taking one look at you and smirking.

“Guv, we found ‘er!” He yelled, and a large red and brown boot stepped out, connected to a much larger body that you knew all too well. Only difference was that his hair was darker and he had a trimmed beard. Oh, you’d have fun with that - you mused, right as a grin spread on your face.

“Son of a bitch.”

©️ 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐤 / 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲’𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐨

𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐝/𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝

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[radioactivesweet]

Ok hear me out, what about moon god s/o x Poseidon, its been itching my mind cause of the sea x moon troupe.

What i imagine is, s/o being a powerful god like nyx but rarely appears so only a few gods know or saw them so Poseidon became curious about this mysterious (beautiful) god. Feel free to add more about this!! im just really craving for someone to write this 🥹

Uhhh I like this concept a lot!! I tried to keep the reader's gender kinda neutral, I hope it's fine^^ btw I really enjoyed writing this!

word count: 1.2k

Poseidon often found himself staring at the moon. He couldn't really explain why he would do that - not that anybody would dare asking the God of the Sea what he was doing. Unbothered, Poseidon would stand silenty on the ivory balcony, looking up to that apparently endless sky. Even for someone like him that domain appeared far and full of mystery.

It was a dark night, its only beam being the peaceful and perlescent light emanated by the sleeping moon. He was once told that a god inhabited the moon, far from all other living beings. It wasn't known the reason why the deity ended up there, observing humankind from the satellite. Some believed they refused to get involved with human affairs and chose to live as a hermit instead; others claimed the god was exiled and was cursed to live on their own, bound to live in loneliness; some believed that god to have died long ago, the moonlight being their only inheritance, the memento of a god who existed no more, the reminder of a otherwise forgotten past.

Poseidon, everytime he would look at the moon, would wonder the real story behind it. None of the moon goddesses he knew could give him a response, despite asking themselves the same question - with whom were they sharing their moon? A god, a ghost or nothing at all?

Not knowing made the God of the Sea restless. He wasn't supposed to be this ignorant - it was his duty and right to know the truth. Yet, all he knew didn't make sense to him at all. He couldn't find a reason why a god would choose to abandon their place a seek shelter on the moon; if a deity was trapped on the moon, he would have surely heard of it somehow. It wouldn't have been just a rumour; lastly, gods weren't meant to die, it wasn't their nature. They didn't have an expire date nor any time limits, so it was impossible to begin with. If there really were someone looking down on him from the moon, Poseidon would discover it.

Poseidon spent that whole night reading books and looking for information regarding the legends surrounding that mysterious and mystical figure. There weren't many references and he couldn't even find the name of that god, yet there were reported some events which most likely involved them. A beautiful deity whose melancholic face was reflected on the moon on certain nights, someone wearing a silvery armor while riding a shining chariot across the sky. Also, a powerful god who could conceal the sun and the earth. A god capable of moving the stars and making humans into constellations. A god who could flex the tides to their own amusement - which meant disturbing the God of the Sea too - the moon phases and the sea had always been strictly connected to one another, but the thought of someone directly interefering had never crossed his mind. An ancient deity whose name had been long forgotten and all traces canceled, no statues nor temples left, their believers long dead and turned to ashes.

Poseidon was intrigued to say the least. He couldn't recall even if tried the last time he had felt so interested in someone - maybe last time was when he recognised Hades as his brother thousands of years before? He didn't remember anymore, and it didn't really matter to him neither.

Rumours spreaded fast across the Heavens. It was a matter of days before everybody knew what the lonesome Poseidon was looking for, yet nobody dared approaching him nor suggesting him the information that could have helped him reach his objective. Yet, everybody was curious as to why he was interested in that legend in the first place. Poseidon was used to those lower deities' gossips, so he didn't pay them much care, they were nothing more than a bother and wasn't expecting them to act some other way. He was more interested in what certain gods had to say.

Zeus, despite his prestige, knew no more than him but reccomended talking with the goddess Nyx, whom he was afraid of, much more ancient than he was. Hades and Hermes agreed with Zeus and added some rumours that had been circulating for ages in the Underworld regarding a moon deity who lead the souls of the dead to Hades' domain. Beelzebub clearly remembered studying moon's phenoma and seeing that legendary face. They didn't ask him the reason why he was looking for the god. He wouldn't have answered anyway. Without a single word, he left, approaching his next destination, the goddess all gods feared: Nyx.

He respected the goddess, recognising her value and strenght, but didn't understand the reason why even the almighty Zeus feared - he could only suppose it must have been because of one of his many affairs that didn't end the way Zeus imagined. Poseidon didn't have anything to do with that though, therefore had no reason to fear her.

Nyx knew it all, the story of the human who ascended to the skies and then flew even higher above. That god's name was (Y/n), the vagabond of the stars, the hermit who found a home in the dim light of the moon. Poseidon was satisfied by the answers he had finally found - and a way to reach the moon itself. He was close to his goal.

He had finally landed on the moon. Poseidon had never been there before. It was the first time he got to see the sea he ruled from that perspective. It was a foreign feeling to him. He could almost understand the reason why humans tried so hard to leave Earth and reach the space - it was undescribable. He couldn't even blame (Y/n) for hiding in that timeless place. Poseidon felt as he could touch the stars if he only wanted to. And he was just about to do it, if only a sudden voice hadn't interrupted him.

"I've heard someone was looking for me. I don't receive many guests, so I suppose you must be that person." it was quite, almost a whisper. It didn't surprise Poseidon. (T/n) mustn't have had someone to talk to in a long time.

"You are Poseidon, aren't you? You often stare at the moon, I noticed it." a voice comparable to the music of the spheres, the musica universalis, the harmony between the celestial bodies.

(Y/n) seemed to have no material consistence, one with the stars and the deep blue sky surround them, floating on the ground, detached from the earthly beings. Poseidon almost felt unworthy of being before someone surrounded by such a, otherwordly aura, belonging to a different dimension. On the other hand, he was attracted by that holy creature.

"You are welcome here, God of the Seas." almost as if they had read his mind, (Y/n) reassured him "We all belong to the moon, all beings are made of the same stardust. There are no differences between us."

For once, Poseidon, enchanted and bewitched, couldn't reply. He was part of that symphony too - he could feel it resonating deep into his bones.

The everlasting sea below him, the everlasting stars above him. Poseidon felt whole for the first time in his equally everlasting life.

[0xstarzx0]

𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞 | ONE SHOT

Rafe Cameron S2 x Readers

{OPEN COMMAND}

[English is not my native language ❗️❗️]

SYNOPSIS: When a crazy killer runs through the streets of the Outer Banks, it’s better to be well surrounded. But what if the killer is your best friend?

TW: NON-CON, DUB-CON, smut, rape, violence, murder, vaginal sex, violent sex, caresses, death threats, lies, dark, victim blame, manipulation, unprotected sex, forced pregnancy, breach of trust, hair pull, insults, penetration, fingering.+18

______________________________________________

The nights of the Outer Banks have been dangerous lately.

A psychopath disguised as ghostface , the famous scream killer was running in the streets, killing Kook and pogue.

Good thing your best friend, Rafe, was there to protect you. When your boyfriend died, he was the first to come to console you. 

That’s normal, because he’s your faithful best friend.

Even though Rafe was the kind of asshole who stabbed everybody in the back with knives, it was different with you.

He’d always been there for you, supporting you when you weren’t sure, or coming in whenever you had to tell him something-even if it wasn’t important.-

But recently, Rafe had been extremely busy. He hardly picked up his phone and rarely responded to your messages. You could understand, as your friends were being brutally murdered one after the other. But there was always that little voice in the back of your mind, whispering that it wasn’t normal, telling you to run.

This evening, Rafe had decided on a whim to spend the evening with you. You hadn’t refused, feeling too unwell to be alone. Rafe and you were seated on the couch, your back pressed against his chest as he played with your hair. You were watching television when your program suddenly cut to instead present a devastating new report.

Three girls that you used to talk to had been found dead on the side of the road. They had been brutally murdered, one of them was missing an eye and another was missing her heart.

"How can someone be so violent…" you say, feeling uneasy. Rafe laughs softly. "Who cares, they were bitches who deserved it." His tone was strange, there was a hint of satisfaction in it. It was like seeing you feeling guilty made him happy.

You begin to move away when he tightens his grip on your hair slightly. You give in, resting your head on his chest. "Rafe... If the police arrest me because they think I’m guilty, you’ll come visit me in prison… right?"

"Do you really think the police would think of you? You're harmless... So pure and too kind. You panic just at the thought of killing a bug." He laughs, moving his hand to your waist, pulling you closer to him. "But if they arrest you, I'll make sure to send you a nail file to help you escape." He laughs again.

You nestle against him. "You say that, but even my mother doesn’t dare look at me anymore…" Your voice becomes weaker and weaker. The urge to cry begins to take over.

Rafe's grip around your waist tightened, his other hand moving to brush gently a strand of hair out of your face. His touch was almost comforting, a stark contrast to the coldness that shone in his eyes.

"Your mother is always the first to judge Y/N. Everyone is going crazy because of some bastard who thinks he's Ghostface, even the mothers are suspecting their own daughters. But don't worry love, I believe in you. I know you're not Ghostface. You can't be."

Rafe kisses your cheek tenderly. You allow him to, feeling safe with him.

Rafe chuckled softly against your cheek, his warm breath tickling your skin. His hand pulled possessively at your waist, pulling you closer, until your body was pressed tightly against his. His touch was gentle, almost affectionate, but that little voice in the back of your head began to scream at you again, telling you to run, to get away as fast as possible.

A small moan escapes you as he kisses passionately your neck. "Rafe, we shouldn't…"

Rafe raises an eyebrow at your words, his smile slowly disappearing. His fingers slowly but dangerously trail down to your shorts, his touch becoming almost too intimate.

"I'm not going to hurt you Y/N, I just want you to feel good."his hand leaning lightly on your shorts, where your clitoris was hidden by the pieces of fabric.

"I know, but I don't want Ghostface to take you, Rafe. I don't want to lose y-"

He lets out a scoff, a hint of irritation in his voice. His hand begins to move, pressing even more on your clit.

"Y/N. You're making me sound like a damsel in distress. I can take care of myself. I'm not a fragile flower, you know. I can handle a masked madman chasing after a bunch of idiots with a knife. Don’t worry, I'm strong and smart enough to take care me, to take care of us both."

"I'm sure, Y/N, I've been waiting for this for... nearly forever" he chuckles slightly before his tone turns serious. "And you? Are you sure you want this?"

Without you realizing it, Rafe has laid you down on your back. he has leaned in and started kissing the top of your chest. His hot breath on your skin.

"Are you sure you trust me? Because once I start, there's no going back..."

You grip his t-shirt lightly. In reality, Rafe wouldn’t have let you tell him no. Not when he knows that he’s the only one who doesn’t believe that you’re Ghostface. "Yes…"

A slow, dangerous smile spreads across Rafe's face at your response. His fingers slide further up, in your shorts.

"Good girl."

He doesn’t give you the chance to respond. His lips crash into yours, the kiss hard and demanding, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth.

He kisses you aggressively, his kisses sloppy, possessive, and voracious. He removes his hand from your shorts and begins to give you little hip thrusts.

You moan, feeling his hard dick against your clit through your layers of clothing. He breaks the kiss to move down into your neck, sucking on your sensitive skin.

You frown in pleasure. "Fuck, it's so good…" You close your eyes, relaxing for the first time in far too long.

He smiles against your now slightly purple neck, his grip on your hip tightening slightly.  

"You don’t know how much I want to ruin you."

One of his hands has moved up to entwine in your hair, pulling your head back to expose more of your neck. His lips nibbling and kissing your collarbone.

As he pulls on your hair, you let out a moan. 

"Y/N, if you keep moaning like that, I'm going to fuck you so hard you won't be able to walk again. I swear."

The idea excites you but you'll never admit it to yourself. "Sorry..." you bite your lip, trying to hold back.

Rafe knew. He knew you were too weak in this type of situation. And he loved knowing that, at some point, you wouldn’t be able to hold back.

He grins against your neck at the idea of impaling you on his cock excites him so much, that his cock becomes more and more painfully hard.

         ✩✽✩

Sleeping with Rafe has been so good. He had been rough, but you had liked it, as strange as it was.

The young Cameron had left more than three hours ago, his father had called him because of a "huge" emergency.

You sleep when small noises echo in your room, having sensitive sleep you wake up almost immediately.

You wake up and check the time on your phone, 2:30 AM. 

You get up from your bed and immediately stumble back onto it. A sharp, excruciating pain in your legs prevents you from moving.

Rafe hadn't exactly been gentle. You force yourself to stand up and begin to walk, limping.

You make your way into the kitchen, where the noise is coming from.

As soon as you enter, your whole body freezes.

Your mother's lifeless body lay on the floor, blood gushing from her neck. Ghostface stood there, holding a bloodstained knife, looking at you silently. He tilts his head to the side, glancing at you.

He stepped closer to you, the knife still in his hand. Despite the mask obscuring his expression, you could sense the menace in his movements. Your trembling body betrayed your fear, and Ghostface seemed to revel in it.

"What's wrong, baby ? You look like you’ve seen a ghost."

His voice was deep and distorted behind the mask, adding to the creepy factor.

Your eyes fixed on the body, you slowly widen your eyes. Before you can even realize it, Ghostface is right in front of you.

He grabs you by the throat, pinning you against the wall next to you.

You struggle to make him let go, his grip on your throat tightens slightly. You moan, Trying to gasp for air.

He moves his face closer to yours.

"Everything alright? You seem a bit...short of breath." he laughs sinisterly,

He puts his knee between your legs and brings his face to your ear, his voice dropping to a low, threatening whisper.

"No one's going to come save you. You're all alone here. With me...and the dead body of your whore mother." He laughs, but there's no hint of humor in what he says.

You start to cry as you try to remove his hand from your throat. "Please...I don’t want to die..."

He chuckled at your pleading, seeing the despair in your eyes.

"What's the matter, Love? Are you afraid? Afraid to die?"

He pressed even closer to you, his body pressing against yours, giving you chills. His hand moved to your hair, gently twirling a strand between his fingers.

"Don't worry. I'm not going to kill you...yet."

He steps away and lets go of your throat. You collapse, trying to breathe properly. He grabs you by the hair and kneels in front of you. "You know what? We're going to play a game!" he says sinisterly.

"If you answer all my questions correctly, I'll let you live but if you're wrong..." He takes out his knife from behind his back and presses it to your cheek.

"I kill you or something else. I haven't decided yet." he shrugs casually. As if he hadn't just threatened you.

"Who was my first victim?"

You think, there have been 9 people since then. Your lips begin to bleed as you try to find the answer.

"10,9,8..." He laughs and begins to count.

"Kiara Carrera!" You shout in panic. He tilts his head to the side and claps his hands.

"Well done, I thought I'd have to kill you with the first question."

"Okay, second question. What is the name of Elvis Presley’s wife?"

"Priscilla." A tear runs down your cheek, a tear of happiness.

"You’re much stronger than I thought, okay. Third and last question." He points his knife at your neck.

"Who did this to you?"

His head moved to your neck and chest, where the marks left by Rafe were clearly visible. He chuckled under his breath, his fingers tracing gently over one of the bruises.

"Looks like someone got a little wild with you, baby. Who did that to you?, your boyfriend? you know, I'd be happy to open his stomach and make a pretty necklace out of his guts"

"No! No! I don't have a boyfriend! I just had fun with a stranger! I swear!" You lie so that Rafe doesn't get killed, it would be unfair if he had to die because of you.

Ghostface chuckled again, clearly not convinced by what you were saying.

"Is that so? You just...had some "fun" with a stranger, and ended up with these marks all over your body?"

His hand moves down to his belt, he starts unbuckling it.

"You’re a bad liar, baby. Try again."

"A stranger I-" He grabs you by the neck and pushes your head hard against the wall.

Your head hit the wall so hard that it blurred your vision for a moment. Ghostface's grip on your throat was firm, his hand squeezing just enough to make it difficult to breathe.

"Baby, I hate hurting you but I don't like being lied to. I thought I had been clear. I'm going to ask you again, and this time I want the truth. Who did this to you?"

He takes off his belt and pushes it away.

You cry out as tears stream down your porcelain cheeks. "A stranger!"

The masked man tightened his grip on your throat, his patience clearly worn out. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a growl.

"You know what baby? I'm really starting to lose my patience with you. I don't believe you. Not at all. I'm going to give you one last chance to tell me the truth. Who did this to you?"

You cry and look at him. "A stranger."

Ghostface doesn't move for a few seconds. "Stop playing, you're tiring me."

 He grabs your thighs and cuts your shorts and then your underwear.

He grabs your hair and forces you to lie on your stomach. "Stop it!" You cry and struggle. He grabs your wrists and puts them behind your back.

"Don't be afraid, baby. I promise it will be worth it." he whispers in your ear as he presses his body against yours, leaving no room for you to escape.

He slides his pants and underwear down his legs, letting them pool at his feet. He grinds his hips against yours, letting you feel the full weight of his arousal. His breath is hot against your ear as he murmurs: "Do you feel that? That's all the fucking anger you just caused me."

"I'm sorry, I swear!" You cry as you try to move.

"Are you ready to tell me the truth?" he asks.

He positions himself at your entrance, the head of his cock pressed against your sensitive flesh.

You freeze, not knowing what to say. "I told you-" "Shut your fucking mouth then."

He thrusts into you, filling you completely. He begins to rock his hips, setting a rhythm that steals your breath away.

You begin to cry and struggle, but he's much stronger than you. He sets a knife next to your head as a warning, whispering in your ear, "If you keep being disobedient, I swear I'll shove this knife inside your pussy Y/N, I swear." 

"Fuck, Y/N, don't you get it? I love you!" He groans as he hits a spot that makes you clench around him, your body responding to his touch despite your tears.

His thrusts become more urgent, he lets go of your wrists and wraps one hand around your throat, squeezing just enough to make you gasp. "I killed your asshole boyfriend, that son of a bitch who said he didn’t love you just to survive. Do you realize? You’re so lucky to have me, baby."

He grabs your head and forces you to look at your mother’s dead body. while he destroys your pussy. You look away but he grabs your chin. "Look at her Y/N. She never liked you, that bitch deserved it and you know it."

His pace becomes even more brutal, each thrust hitting a spot deep within you that makes stars burst behind your eyelids. He leans down, his little moans going straight into your ear as he whispers. 

"I'm the only one who truly loves you, Y/N. Say it."

His thrusts become even more forceful as he revels in your moans and gasps. His hand is still around your throat, squeezing and releasing in time with his thrusts. "Don't make me force you to say it, baby" 

you don’t answer and try to grab the knife

He chuckles his hand tightens around your throat, choking the air out of you as he reaches for the knife. 

"You're the only one who loves me!" You say, feeling your lungs emptying of air.

You feel him growing around you, his thrusts becoming more urgent and rough. He uses the grip on the knife to drag it along your back, leaving a shallow line of blood in its wake. "Fuck, you're so tight," he groans, his vision blurring as the pressure builds.

He stumbles upon a sensitive spot, causing you to moan. He realizes his discovery and smirks, feeling a twisted satisfaction from the sound.

"Is this a sensitive spot? My love?" He presses down on it again, watching with satisfaction as you writhe beneath him. "Maybe we should take advantage of that." 

You whimper as he pounds into you with an incredible, relentless pace. You’re not taking birth control, and he's not using a condom .the raw, unprotected contact only heightens the intensity of his act

"Help…" You cry out, desperation lacing your voice. With each thrust, your body is driven further into the ground, a violent dance of pleasure and pain.

He thrusts faster, the pace becoming almost frenzied. You watch as his mask falls aside, revealing his face inches from yours. He leans in close, his hot breath washing over your shoulder as he grunts with exertion, the sound vibrating through you.

Though you can't see his face, you can feel his lips nibbling and sucking at the tender skin of your shoulder, marking you with his mouth as he continues to claim you with his body.

"I love you, Y/N, I loved you from the instant I saw you." His hand grips at your left breast. "You will become the mother of my children. If you try to leave me, I'll kill you."

Your body freezes at the sound of the name. "Rafe...?" You whisper, a mix of shock and fear coursing through you as the truth hits.

He lets out a guttural growl as he releases his seed deep inside of you, his hips bucking as he empties himself completely. "Mine," He groans, a primal satisfaction filling him at the thought of impregnating you.

He straightens up, pulling on his pants, and retrieves his mask, tucking the knife back into his pocket. "Why?" you ask, lifting your head to gaze up at him. The man you once cherished now looms over you, his expression dark with a possessiveness bordering on madness.

"Because I love you." he says, and then drops suddenly to his knees, grabbing hold of your chin, his touch almost surprisingly gentle considering the way he looks at you, as if you were a mess he was intent on fixing. "Who gave you those hickeys on your neck?"

You swallow hard, fighting the urge to vomit as you utter your response. "You." His laugh cuts through the air like a dagger, and he moves his face closer to yours. "Good answer, my good girl."

✩✽✩

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[genderfluid-insomniac]

age regression!reader with the harbingers

a/n: this was for a request on ao3 but I post all of my works on both platforms (still updating the ao3 one)

THIS ISN'T A SEXUAL THING!! IF YOU MAKE IT ONE I WILL BLOCK YOU!!

Pierro

Usually seems stoic and uncaring but you know him better than most people being his little. Pierro was very understanding and a tad confused until you explained it, wanting to help in any way possible and buying anything you wanted (and more if he thought you’d like it).

Best storyteller as he’s seen so much as both the royal mage of Khaenri’ah and the director of the harbingers; so whenever you want a story and he’s free from work all you have to do is ask. He makes sure you have proper health and won’t budge if you want sweets but you haven’t eaten a meal yet. A strict but very kind and caring caregiver.

If probably one of the most protective caregivers of all. of the harbingers given that he’s got a big target on his back for a variety of reasons (being Khaenri’an, top harbinger, war crimes, etc.). He never leaves you alone if he has to leave which is almost never since he’s rarely sent on missions and is the one the harbingers report back to, keeping you in a side room off of his office within view of both of you and checking on your from time to time between meal breaks.

Pierro loves how small you are in his arms and how your eyes are full of innocence when you are little, if he could keep you with him he would. He has tons of blankets to keep you warm from the cold that seeps in from the harsh weather and makes large fires in the evenings as he does paperwork while you play on the carpet with your crayons and plushies.

Il Capitano

Now as much as he seems tough and cold, behind closed doors you know he’s ironically one of the softest people you’ve met and has said that he’d kill for you if anyone threatened to hurt you in either state (little or big). Capitano keeps you as much of a secret as he can in fear of something happening to you and also away from Childe because, from his point of view, he’s a fighting-crazed maniac and doesn’t want little you to be corrupted.

You are one of the only people to see his face and it’s gorgeous including all the scars and burn marks, cupping your hands on his cheeks and giggling as the soft smile he wears just for you. He has a small team of soldiers that watch you whenever he has to leave and they secretly adore you, gentle expressions watch over you as you play with the toys that Capitano gave you and snack on local fruits while an abyss mage blanket is wrapped around you.

He adores your sleeping face or when you’re yawning after a long day and settling down for a nap, Capitano’s very glad his head covering hides his face because he’s smiling so wide and looking so soft. He has a hidden talent for getting you to sleep in seconds and all it takes for it to happen is to whisper comforting comments into your ear while rocking you.

This man’s voice is shockingly deep and wouldn’t tell anyone but can sing fairly well however he only knows basic folk songs or songs he’s picked up from his travelers. He will only sing if he’s 100% sure he’s alone and is mostly silent around the other harbingers so only his soldiers and you get the honor of hearing his voice.

Dottore

The doctor loves little you no matter what age you are but does have a hard and fast rule which is no playing in his lab. Ever. He acts like he doesn’t care about humanity but he's such a hypocrite as he would kill for you.

In his lab, there is a corner that is sectioned off specifically for you to be in with toys, blankets, plushies, spill-proof food, and drinks however the fencing surrounding the corner is high enough that you can’t climb over it, and thin but strong material. So you can easily see whatever your caregiver is up to but stay safe and out of harm in case anything happens.

If fussy then he’ll usually have a segment around to comfort you and attend to your needs if OG Dottore absolutely needs to do Harbinger work which both of you don’t like for different reasons. There are rare times when what he’s experimenting with or on something (like shield potions or enhanced foods) that he deems “safe” enough he’ll let you sit by him and color or fidget.

You have a lot of perfect tools for your regression that work perfectly because Dottore has done trials of what you like and what you don’t like. For example, your favorite blanket you have is a big Pyro abyss mage fur blanket that he made and keeps you warm with the mage’s abilities infused into the fur. Currently, you’ve seen him working on a cryo version for the harsh cold of Snezhnaya when you want to go outside and play in the snow but he’s yet been able to infuse a cryo-resistant effect which frustrates him to no end.

He has a strange talent for knowing exactly what’s bothering you before you know it given his knowledge of the human body and anatomy, preventing any meltdowns before they happen and keeping little you happy and satisfied.

This man is very protective over you knowing if someone finds out the second fatui harbinger had a soft spot for a human then you’re going to be a main target for his destruction and that cannot happen. Very rarely leaves you alone when you’re little and has either a trusted fatuus or segment be with you until he can get back.

Like in Sumeru, Dottore wanted to bring you with him but couldn’t due to his work having to be his main focus and secretly being worried about the traveler or Sumerian guards hurting you. He ended up leaving in the care of Arlecchino who agreed but under certain circumstances for her own mission in Fontaine and she often had some of the children from the house of the hearth care for you when she had meetings. (Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet adored you and sent you letters or “magic” gifts when you had to leave)

Columbina

This goes without saying but has one of the best singing voices of all of them and has put some of her soldiers to sleep by accident when they’ve overheard her singing to herself since her voice carries. You have been put to sleep by her voice and melodies countless times you’ve lost track and little you really like her voice. So whenever she can she’ll bring you into her office, placing you in a short walled-off area beside her, and humming or singing a favorite song while she works to reward you for being good.

Since she is the third harbinger no one really knows about her strength and that includes you, very rarely have you gotten glimpses of her power, and its always when someone threatens you or dares to question why Lady Columbina keeps a child at her side. Your caregiver shields you from the violence of the world because you’re her little one, her light among the darkness and she’s your mommy, your angelic caregiver who makes all your wishes come true.

Columbina, despite being one of the strongest harbingers, is very weak to your big cute eyes pleading for another blanket, toy, of sweet she brought back from a faraway nation and she of course bends to your wishes. At times you’ve babbled about how you have your very own fairy godmother who wipes your tears and rocks you gently whenever you get fussy. She spoils you rotten and has no shame in it, having your own room attached to hers that is baby-proofed but also filled with everything you could ever need. The room looks almost like it’s made of clouds with pacifiers hung on the wall for you to grab and everything organized in a multilayered box that contains the softest comfort clothes, pull-ups, clean wipes, and noise-canceling headphones for overstimulation.

Another one of the harbingers that is very protective of you and will not hesitate to kill others if it means getting her little one back in her arms. However, she’s pretty confident about being able to protect you; so very rarely will be brought to a meeting and sitting on your mommy’s lap happily napping or relaxing in her big coat. Some of her other colleagues aren’t fond of you being in the meeting while others are very fond of you and as a gift one winter solstice, you were gifted your own big fluffy coat resembling your mama’s coat.

Arlecchino

She isn’t one for gifts but will give you the necessary things like toys, blankets, and eventually other things from neighboring nations that she thinks your little self would like. Arlecchino has everything in themes of the ocean because of her love for her homeland and has everything organized in a somewhat kid-proof box with some stray blankets or toys out for you to play with unless you want others. Whenever you’re regressed (normally in Fountaine since that’s where she mainly stays unless sent otherwise) she pretends not to notice her children Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet giving you gifts as well. Little you is very shy and happy so when you’ve been given a gift you blush looking up at them and timidly murmuring a “thank you” to whoever gave you a gift.

One of the most protective people out of all the harbingers and if anyone decides to fuck with her little one, doesn’t resist killing that person and genuinely is wondering if they’re stupid enough to attack someone close to a harbinger. She mostly brings you with her but on occasions she can’t she keeps you in her office with her most trusted soldiers. You’re comfortable with your favorite blanket and toy all bundled up in the corner babbling about with the innocent child look in your eyes that she loves completely safe. On occasion, she’ll have one of the hearth children come and play with you, those are the days you really look forward to because you rarely get playmates aside from your mommy.

Arlecchino rarely leaves on missions but when she does she leaves you in the care of some of her soldiers along with Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet to take care of you. They seriously love you and take care of you like their own sibling; Lynette of course spoils you with deserts much to Lyney’s dismay who amazes you with magic tricks and Freminet who tells you all about underwater animals. When Arlecchino does take you with her she keeps you with her at all times unless she has to go somewhere where you can’t go or it’s dangerous. In that case, she tells you to stay put at the base until she gets back setting you up with all the necessities and ordering some of her soldiers in and outside of the room.

Sandrone

At first, Marionette thought she had everything down by using her mechanical puppets to take care of you but that proved very wrong when you had nonstop tantrums and cried about wanting your real mommy claiming that these puppets were emotionless (which was true). She then had you with her at all times, including when she locks herself in her lab for hours on end focusing on her research and you’re right beside her with a puppet to bring you anything you want. You’re quite happy since you’re near your mommy and you can play and nap like you want, getting attention from time to time and when Sandrone wants a break she’ll bring you into her arms for a quick nap or cozy affections.

Is similar to Dottore about the necessities as she can pretty much make or get whatever you need and does “experiment” on you and it’s not what you think. She creates different blankets, pacifiers, and comfort clothes using different materials and learns what you like and what you don’t like. Her little one has a number of different toys (quite advanced and new) that she invented and some of them shockingly can respond to your babbles.

Since she brings you with her, where she’s traveling if there comes a time when anything dangerous happens she’ll use her main puppet that she sits on to open a sizable compartment where she’ll put her little in until the danger is over and then bring you out when this is over. Comforting you if you get scared and pulling out a small music box that sounds like your favorite song, running her fingers through your hair, and silently rubbing shapeless figures on your back.

Tartaglia

Oh my gods, this man doesn’t stop giving you gifts and toys so you have to have a couple of chests full or you share them with his siblings. You do know about his harbinger status however your little self loves the cover status he uses for his siblings and he takes great pride in encouraging it when he plays with you, joyfully claiming you’re his biggest customer and going in for tickles as a reward for being such an amazing patron (even when he had to explain to your regressed self what patron meant). Childe has a small playpen right next to his desk but back enough so he could hold your hand if you wanted and you giggled and babbled bashfully at the large space given to you. His heart warms when you draw crudely done pictures of both of you and show him with a very proud smile like a new soldier winning their first battle.

Might be one of the very protective ones even if he acts aloof and if even one person makes a move or gives off a harmful intent, he’s not holding back if the other person threatens him or his little one for a debt release and is washing some of the blood off of his clothes before he comes to see you. When you’re regressed or your mind is fuzzy you’re not sure why he always has you with him or promises that you’ll never get hurt or harmed in any way as long as he’s alive.

We all know this man is always on missions and on some of them he can’t bring you with him which pains him to no end, hoping you’re alright and his little one is not missing him too much. Like the others sent his most trusted soldiers to watch over you and care for your needs, often hearing that his siblings joined you for most of the day and smiling at the thought of you happily babbling on about your excitement. No harbingers are allowed to even be near you, especially not Il Dottore and the only exception in the fatui now was Arlecchino and Pulcinella.

It should be no surprise that the 11th harbinger spoils you with treats from all different nations and most of them are sugary or your favorite flavors. You have a whole pantry of snacks and food to nibble on if you’re hungry, they’re also non-complex foods and stuff you can easily just grab and eat. Even though your caregiver is very sweet towards you he is strict in the sense of making sure you’re nourished and not just made up of sugar. Childe also doesn’t want you to get sick or cavities if he can help it. So sweets are mostly kept to when you’re good or if he comes back/home from a long mission (usually with you there) and you’re happy either way, your favorite foods make you more agreeable.

Childe absolutely had a hard bedtime that he makes you follow however it doesn’t mean he’s just going to leave in bed to fall asleep in the dark and go about his own. He lets you pick a story for him to read or make up as you fall asleep and quietly sneaks out once he’s sure you’re sound asleep with little chance of waking up. If you have a nightmare he’ll let you cuddle with him and talk out your nightmare so it doesn’t seem scary anymore.

Pantalone

You are so spoiled by him and your whole room is filled with stuff you asked for and also didn’t ask for courtesy of your caregiver. He had a smaller version of the formal harbinger coat made for you and instructed you to wear it when you were outside with anyone, taking extra precautions with the fur and buttons so you couldn’t take them off or chew on them. He has a whole separate wardrobe of outfits for your little self and it’s all in your favorite colors. All you need to do is point to it and he’ll get it as soon as he can or if it’s someone else’s he’s not going to take it cause it’s not sanitary but he’ll make an identical one from scratch.

The banker seems not that violet or caring to anyone given his impartial opinion and blatant lack of care in La Signora’s death however that’s cause he didn’t really have any attachments to his colleagues because that’s all they were…colleagues. You are his one exception, as his lover you’re his first priority obviously over the money and when you are in your little headspace he’s not taking any chances with you. He has you with him in his office diagonally behind so he can still see you while you happily play with your toys all wrapped in blankets in case anyone bursts in with intent to harm either of you.

Pantalone’s almost always never sent on a mission since he stays in Schneznyah to take care of the Fatui’s grand finances as well as the major Northland Banks around Tevyat and that means staying at the homeland to get all the reports as soon as possible. He’s very grateful he doesn’t have to travel and gets to spend more time with you by his side, however, when he does have to leave for a mission he will take you with him every single time and doesn’t let you out of sight unless it’s with his most competent soldier. Whenever you both travel whether it’s on a boat, carriage, on foot, in the air, or on the Fontaine waterways he’ll have you with him to play with a coloring book and if it’s a long travel distance he’ll have you take a nap(if you throw a tantrum then you’re going to get sent to timeout).

Getting you to eat can be a struggle since you much prefer to nap than eat even if you need it to stay healthy and when you do eat because of Pantalone still spoiling you you have a very rich pallet or rather very expensive pallet. He’s glad that when you get hungry you don’t get really fussy you get quieter and pouty hoping your caregiver would tend to your needs. Your favorite thing to do is eat breakfast or dinner with your caregiver's lap as you both finish your meals and Pantalone lists off what he has to do today, telling you to go get your favorite toys and blanket before he heads in to do paperwork.

He is very strict on bedtimes and the reason is that you have a habit of being clingy when he has to get up which is pretty early as he has a lot of work to do as a harbinger but carefully slips in a pillow in place of himself which usually work and sometimes it doesn’t. You’ll happily snuggle into your “caregiver” as Pantalone quietly gets ready and has a soldier guard your room in case you get up or any issues come up, instructing them to report if any problems arise. Going to bed is always fun as you’re piled under blankets and he’s always snuggled next to you and reading you stories he’s heard from across all of the world.

[eye-f0r-an-eye]

lewis hamilton x male reader [nsfw]

SO I FINALLY FUCKING FINISHED IT FUCK ME DEAD BRO

i'm so sorry it took so long, i struggle with motivation... i'm now just sick of looking at this, i'm fucking done with it man dfyhwesvyhewjcdb

word count: 3.4k

cw: nsfw, swearing, sub!lewis, dom!reader, male!reader, anal sex, soft vanilla sex i guess, regular ol' missionary, author can't title shit for shit, author also got a little lazy at the end, author ALSO got lazy with writing prep so he just didn't but oh well- but it's actually kinda sweet though??????

anyway, i hope you enjoy the fruits of my labour ;-;

(i'm also not the kinda guy who's like "fem aligned dni", simply cause i don't care. just enjoy it, whoever you are <3)

lewis hamilton. 

a man who could have any woman he wanted using his sheer status alone. a man who could seize the heart of any entranced fan with nothing more than a simple smile. a man who could make any admirer fantasise at night after dropping a subtly suggestive comment during an interview. 

not the kind of man who you’d expect to show up at your hotel room in the dead of the night with a condom, lube, and a half-baked idea.

“fuck me.” 

there'd never been a queer man on the grid before – not openly at least – and not since mike beuttler, who’d just disappeared to the list of forgotten drivers. you, on the other hand, appeared to have turned out quite the opposite. you had seemed to be the media’s hottest topic as of late. 

you weren’t lost to the obituaries. 

after you had come out, you weren’t disregarded nor overlooked. Instead, it seemed as though the entire world’s eyes were on you. you weren’t just another driver anymore; you were like a unicorn hailing from the garden of eden, and a very influential one at that. all the cameras had transitioned to your direction, and you had become all the rage as a rare representer of the queer community in motorsports. every single reporter wanted to know the finer details of your life, and this was no exception for the drivers as well. 

in particular, lewis hamilton. 

the man had been ever so curious since the day he saw you in the paddock, but not the innocent kind of curious. he couldn’t figure out why he was having such thoughts as you were a man. sure, he could admit when a guy was good-looking, but he’s never felt sexually drawn to another male before, not genuinely. maybe it was your intense driving style that he found so hot and raw, or the way you carried yourself when speaking to fellow drivers that really tickled his britches. or maybe it was simply the knowledge that you indeed liked men that gave him the confidence to accept that his thoughts were valid. 

either way, he was attracted, and he didn’t quite know why you twisted his ideals. but he did know that he wanted to find out, he wanted to get closer to you. he felt as though he had to – needed to. and as your friendship strengthened, he soon discovered that he wanted to get closer to you in a much different sense to how he originally thought. in a sense that he felt was dastardly wrong, in a sense that made him question if it was even women he really desired in the first place. 

and who were you to turn him down? it’s lewis fucking hamilton. 

as soon as you were greeted by those great big bambi eyes and that shameless request, you pulled him into your dimly lit hotel room and kicked the door closed without so much as a second thought. 

you had made out wildly and were stripped of all clothing items within mere moments, far too fast for either of you get your heads wrapped around the situation. you couldn’t care less if he didn’t have any feelings for you that were beyond carnal, it was impossible when his strong inked figure was spread out underneath you – all bare, prepped, and gorgeous – reduced to submissiveness, like a sacrificial lamb waiting to be devoured. and it was even hotter to know that he came to your door and asked for this whilst completely in his right mind. 

lewis' back was pressed to the mattress and his cock lay hard against his flat abs, and it dribbled bead after bead of precum that glistened with the faint moonlight creeping through the curtains. he felt you guide your length between his legs, the hot weight of it knocking against thigh was enough to have his mind turned to mush. 

“wait” lewis clutched your wrist, which currently gripped the base of your erect cock to line yourself up with lewis’ entrance. your heart dropped for a moment, and you quickly stopped your doings to ensure lewis’ comfort. your gaze snapped up to meet his dark chocolate eyes, searching for any sign of discontent. but you saw none. 

“yes?” your voice came out as a faint whisper as you held a thoughtful gaze. you slipped out of the grip from the familiarly foreign hand and your fingers instead travelled up the mingle of naked bodies, resting on lewis’ burning cheek. 

lewis didn’t want you to think that he’d changed his mind about wanting to experiment and embarrass you beyond reason – you've already got enough going on – and he didn’t want to deny your eager, aching cock any relief. besides, it wasn’t in his place to back out. after all, he was the one who had arrived at your hotel room unannounced, forcing you to put your late-night activities on hold in order to please him. so he simply smiled softly. 

“just... be gentle...” lewis’ voice was equally as quiet as yours, enough to make you shudder in its wake. “i’ve never done this before – lay with another man, that is...” 

you nod in response and lewis’ hand encased your hand, the one on his cheek, with his own and came in for a hot and tender kiss – for reassurance. your eyes flutter shut, and you feel your dick twitch and leak within the confines of the condom. you suddenly wish lewis didn’t want you to wear it, you wish you could feel every cell of his insides squeeze and drag deliciously against you. you had already felt it with your fingers, but you were starving for more, and the thought has you salivating. but it is what it is, you weren’t about to force lewis out of his comfort zone, especially not on his first time. 

“well, i’ve done this before...” you start as you pull back to resume the guidance of your length to lewis’ entrance, your hand leaving a lingering ghost of a touch on lewis’ cheek. “...it’s a bit uncomfortable at first, but i swear it’ll feel really really good after a moment. i promise. i'll make sure it’s amazing for you- and if you wanna stop, i'm ok with that too! Just, please, let me know if i hurt you, or if you wanna stop. i can take rejection, and-” 

“y/n?” 

“mm?” 

“you’re rambling...” 

you huff at yourself and drop your head, your hair briefly tickling lewis’ nose as you mutter your apology. lewis smiled and simply brought your face back up to his to pull you in for another kiss. 

“look... i’ve already taken your fingers and i'm fine. it's just a little more girth, right?” he said as he smiled softly at you. you really wanted to tell him that that wasn’t the case, but you also didn’t want to scare him off. you really wanted this. your thoughts wandered back to the feel of your fingers inside lewis’ virgin hole a few moments ago and you couldn’t wait to have that death grip take ahold of your cock. 

“are you sure?” you ask, solely for validation as your free hand comes up to trace along the intricate patterns of lewis’ braids. he smiles softly and nods. 

“certain.” 

you want to doubt his reassurance, but you can’t ignore your desires – nor his. you just held his gaze for a few more seconds before refocusing back on the initial task at hand. you guide your well-lubricated tip to prod at lewis’ entrance and his hole flutters around nothing in anticipation. he's already a pretty man but you can’t help but think how absolutely divine he looks like this. 

lewis let himself relax against the pillows as your tip slowly slipped into him, taking deep breaths as you pushed past the first ring of muscle of his hole. naturally, lewis gasped, which immediately made you pause thinking you’d hurt him. 

“you ok?” you asked cautiously as your gaze flickered back up to his face, watching carefully for any expressions that may indicate he’d want you to stop. but all you were greeted with was a breathy chuckle. 

“never better.” 

you let out a deep breath and just closed your eyes to focus on all the sensations happening at once. the heavy breaths from both you and lewis, the feel of his hole eagerly engulfing your tip, the firm weight of his hands resting on your chest like an anchor. you were struggling to take it slow, to control yourself and not ruthlessly fuck the ever-living hell out of lewis – the latter could sense it. but you remained strong and kept the pace deliberate. however, should this special situation occur again in the future, you hope he might let you do just that. you wished for nothing more than to take him in every position under the sun, to have him all for your own personal entertainment. it was such a tantalising concept. 

you gradually pushed yourself further into lewis, he would stifle a whimper for every centimeter his hole sucked in – it was a punishingly slow process. but he kept his head as he screwed his eyes shut and hyper focused on the way your fat cock was stretching him. he noticed it was a much different sensation to fingers – but a pleasant difference it was. he was in love with the feeling and even more in love with the fact that you were the one being intimate with him, he felt as though he’d waited his whole life for this moment. 

lewis chuckled under his breath at the sight of you completely losing your mind – much like himself. you were usually so calm and collected from how’s he’s previously observed you, he had no idea you could be absolutely picked apart at the brain like this. it only added to his unexplainable attraction towards you. 

your head was drooped down, and you groaned faintly against lewis’ collarbone. you felt yourself close already and you were only halfway sheathed inside him. you couldn’t help it, he was clenching you way too sinfully good, conceiving pleasures like that from the heavens. 

oh, how you wished to feel him without a condom on, all succulent and raw. 

“holy fuck, y/n...” lewis sighed out as his hand carded through your hair encouragingly, his other moving to wrap around the back of your torso. he drew you as close as your masses would allow you to, cuddling your chests together so compactly you weren’t sure any oxygen could squeeze through. you both breathed heavily as you finally slipped all the way into lewis. he could’ve sworn he felt you in his stomach, you were that deep, and yet he somehow still wanted you even closer. 

“o-oh... wow...” lewis’ voice cracked as you nestled yourself completely inside him, all the way to the hilt, feeling his walls clench you delightfully as your balls pressed against his firm ass. he felt his legs instinctually spread a little wider to accommodate you, an automated response that he didn’t know he had. he breathed heavily while you kissed a comforting trail along his neck, licking along his tattoos, giving him a moment to adjust to your staggering size. 

“lemme know when to move...” you whispered against the lightly sweat-sheen skin of lewis’ collarbone, which only prompted him to weakly hook his legs around your waist. 

“mmh... you can...” he mumbled out softly, barely able to keep his focus on anything but the fat cock that was wedged considerably deep inside of him. he pulled you closer and pressed his forehead to yours – you were now breathing each other’s heavy air and you could practically feel the vibrations of his tiny whimpers in your throat. 

you let out a shaky breath before you gingerly pull your hips back, savouring the electrifying buzz that jolted throughout your entire body as your throbbing cock dragged against his walls. you held your breath as you pulled out to your tip, before gently pumping back all the way into him with a lewd squelch. both of your breaths hitched as a simple thrust managed to illicit such ethereal feelings within you both. the sensations were mindboggling as you began to develop a slow rhythm, throwing lewis into a most blissful state as you made love to him. 

your chests heaved with your deep exhales as pleasure and anxiety wrestled for supremacy at the core of your conjoined bodies. the latter was soon conquered, and you became more confident as you saw his completely fucked out expression – it was all the reassurance you needed to know that he was enjoying himself. 

lewis could feel everything – every little bump and vein on your cock was making an imprint on his insides, like his body was a silicon mold that was simply made for you to use however you wished. he felt your warm breath fan across his face as you whispered encouragements to him. he felt each time your balls and thighs would make contact with his rear. he felt a haze begin to fog up his mind and prevent him from think about anything but the way you were methodically drilling into him. his arms wrapped around your torso to draw you even nearer, his nails digging into your shoulder blades to ground himself. 

“you feel too good...” you moaned out quietly, your words having quite the effect on lewis. he felt all tingly as your voice stuck to the inner walls of his skull and persistently hammered at his brain, infusing what you had said into the darkest corners of his mind. he won’t forget the sultry tone you held when you said that – not for a very long time. 

he never knew it could feel like this, being on the receiving end, but it certainly shed some clarity on his confusion and defeated the blur that censored his heart. lewis knew what he was, and he was more than ok with it. 

“y/n... don’t stop...” he whined, influenced by the pleasure bubbling at his core from you gently fucking him. 

that was all the invigoration you needed before you snaked a hand around lewis’ waist, finding purchase on the small of his back to elevate him a few inches off the mattress. the modest alteration allowed for your cock to venture deeper inside him with each thrust, and for your tip to knock his prostate, causing him cry out and arch up into you. his hands raked down your back, possibly leaving red stripes in the aftermath, and his head rolled back, leaving his tattooed neck exposed for you to kiss and leave a few love bites should he let you. 

lewis moaned loudly, a bit louder than he would’ve liked for a hotel room. typically, if it were a woman, he’d have no issues – hell he’d encourage a bit of volume. he’d want the world to know. in this case, he definitely didn’t want anyone to know he was being sodomised. god forbid it reached the media, he’d never live down the copious amounts of controversy that would spark up. 

but that wasn’t on his mind right now, nothing was, nothing except you. you had stripped away his ability to focus on anything except the pleasure sailing through his veins, the kind that liquified his brain and set his body aflame. it was one thing being inside someone and a completely different thing having someone inside you. lewis decided that he quite liked both. 

lewis' body jolted with each firm from thrust from you, your bodies meshed perfectly like yin and yang. he couldn’t stop his eyes from rolling to the back of his head when your other hand flew down to stroke his neglected cock in tandem with your solid thrusts. your thumb brushed over his swollen, oozing tip, collecting his juices on the pad of your finger. you then brought that hand up to his face, prodding your thumb past his already agape lips and smeared his taste all over his own tongue. lewis moaned again, the saltiness of it suddenly made him feel parched and filthy in only the best way. he couldn’t stop himself from lapping at your finger eagerly. 

“lewis... i-i'm close...” you keened as your thumb, much to his dismay, slipped out of his mouth, tugging at his bottom lip one last time before returning to his cock. he choked out a little giggle through his moan, his hips bucking up into your hand. 

“already?” he teased, although in no position to do so. he smirked up at you. 

“yeah...” you sigh out shamelessly, too focused on the tight coil in the pit of your stomach that threatened to snap at any moment to care about his playful tease. lewis let out a long hum. 

“me too...” he said, which made you giggle in return. 

“already?” you jest, shooting back the same mischievous look he had given you. 

“shut up.” 

the bout of banter soon eluded your minds as your thrusts became more ragged and desperate, and the necessity to cum became devastatingly unbearable in the sordid instant. lewis whined under his breath, his mouth frantically chased yours in a lip lock of spit and tongue as he clenched around you. hard. all his muscles tensed as you devoured his muffled moans, your fist gripping him like a vice. you felt his juices leaking all down your fingers, wet and glistening in the dim light provided by the moonlight seeping through the blinds. he arched up into you as you bucked into him like a wild animal in heat, chasing the high that had been evading obtainability – like it was just taunting you, dragging you around and drawing this out longer than you intended. you had no complaints whatsoever. 

lewis pulled off your lips to bury his face in your neck, his beard scratched you and his heavy breath condensed – it only further concentrated the hot and sticky sheen of sweat on your skin - but you could not give less of a shit when you were balls deep inside him and on the brink of an orgasm. 

“y/n... y/n- please” he choked out as he felt himself about to burst, saying your name over and over like a prayer. you couldn’t ignore his pleas, and you snapped your hips into him just a bit faster, the sound of skin slapping gradually magnifying. 

“cum for me, lewis...” 

your words made him feel high. adrenaline surged through his veins at the same intensity as when he was flying at 300kmh on the track, except this time the whole world wasn’t watching him, counting on him to make it past the finish line. it was just you, him, and the sins you would probably never speak of again. he'd have it no other way. 

with a loud cry of your name that he tried to muffle in the crook of your neck, lewis was tipped over the edge by a particularly hard thrust from you that made his vision tunnel and blur. hot ropes of cum uncontrollably spurt out, painting your hand and his belly white – his cum was sandwiched between your stomachs and sticking your skin – decorating the compass tattooed on his torso. just the sight of his cock twitching and trickling bodily fluids was enough to have you thrown past your limit as well. you came hard within the confines of the condom – the rubber effectively containing what would’ve been a mighty mess – as your hips stopped moving and just rested against him, his hole like a boa constrictor as it milked you for every single drop you had. 

you both panted as you stayed inside lewis for just a little while longer, not wanting to pull out from his warmth just yet – you don’t think he wanted you to pull out yet either. and you were more than ok with that. 

“woah...” was all lewis could muster as he took a beat to catch his breath. 

“woah, indeed...” you replied, too taking deep breaths to regulate yourself. 

lewis felt like he was on a cloud that was drifting away to another realm. his head was fuzzy, in a good way, and he felt weightless in your arms as you peppered kisses all over the lion tattoo on his pec, creeping up to his shoulder and neck. all was quiet as you just basked in the blissful aftermath of your obscene activities, until lewis found his voice. 

“we should do that again...” he said quietly, eagerly, pulling back so his gaze could meet yours. “...but without the condom.”

i wanna fuck the shit outta this man

might go cry rq

-leo :3

[daechwitatamic]

Vice;Grip || chapter 5 || chs

(banner by @itaeewon)

Vice;Grip (masterpost) NSFW - minors DNI Genre: angst smut fluff, fuckbuddies!au Summary: Make it not hurt, you could have asked him. Or, at least, make it hurt in a way I choose.  A/N: infinite thank you's to @sailoryooons and @eoieopda for beta-ing!!

//

Warnings: Frequent depictions of depression, depressive episodes, panic attacks, and substance abuse (alcohol, weed, and pills referenced). PLEASE know that these characters’ relationships with drugs and alcohol are not healthy and should not be emulated. If these topics are triggering to you, please consider sitting this one out.

Section Specific Warnings: language, depictions of depression and depressive episodes, mentions of doctors' offices and medication, angst, mentions of attending therapy, recreational drinking, kissing

wc: 6.9k

Playlist: you can call me in the middle of the night / you can leave before i wake up in the morning / and it could feel so wrong / but i'll still hold on

Now - Fall

Vernon’s watching his ceiling fan when his phone chimes - a noise he isn’t fond of: incoming email.

For the last few months, his emails have all been from recruiting directors and head-hunters - either thanking him for his interest but regretfully informing him they’ve gone in a different direction, or head-hunters pretending they found him a great opportunity when it was really an underpaid, short-term position where he’d spend more on his commute into the city than he’d ever earn.

It’s been real fun. He sucked it up and finished grad school, threw his diploma behind a cheap frame, added the degree to his resume. Quit going to classes (because there weren’t any), quit spending whole nights on assignments (none of those anymore either), and still - he finds himself no happier than he’d been before, even with all the free time in the world. So maybe, he considers, grad school wasn’t the problem, and he’d done the right thing to just push through and finish.

On top of this - on top of the fact that he was still bored with life, still unenthused to be here - the break-up has sucked, just to make things even bleaker for him.

Can he even call it a break-up? You were never together. But it’s been nine days since he made you cry in his car - not that he’s counting - and all nine of them have fucking sucked. He’s wrestled with indecision for all of them - did he make a mistake? Should he try to undo the damage? Wasn’t what he had with you still better than being alone?

But he knows this will be better for him in the end. He knows that what you two were doing together wasn’t real, wasn’t a relationship. It couldn’t grow with him - it was stagnant by nature. So, even though something in his bones screams at him to take it back, in the end he doesn’t regret the decision to try and do something better.

He does regret that he can’t do something better with you. He regrets that he lost his temper and yelled, regrets that he was cold in his last moments with you.

Regrets that he spent two years walking towards a dead end.

Still misses you, despite this.

He picks up his phone and scrolls to his email, already feeling the frown take over his face in anticipation of another rejection. As expected, the email is from a company he’d interviewed with last week - he’d even gotten to a second in-person round, which was rare. Still, he hadn’t wanted to get excited about it. He knows how unlikely it is that they’ll want him.

Dear Mr. Chwe,

Our team was delighted to meet with you last week. We found your background impressive, especially your internship experience with -

Vernon’s eyes skim the page, so fast the words are a blur. 

…Would like to formally offer you the position of… annual salary of… additional opportunities within the company including traveling to… working with… reporting to… expected start date of… we are looking forward to having you on our team!

Vernon’s heart thuds and he turns the screen off and stares at his ceiling again. He’ll answer it later, accept it graciously, call his eomma, probably shop online for some button-downs and maybe some ties. Later, though. Later. For now, he reaches for his lighter.

He kind of wishes he could tell you - hey, I got a job offer. hey, guess who gets to wear a suit five days a week now? hey, all that bullshit paid off in the end.

Would he have texted you any of that if he hadn’t ended things? You’d never talked about this kind of thing - that had been part of the problem.

Still. As illogical as it is, you’re the one Vernon wants to tell first. It aches a little, like sore muscles but somewhere inside him, behind his brittle ribs.

He wonders if you’re doing okay. He wonders if you care at all, or if you’re fine. He turns his lighter over and over in his fingers, and then realizes he’s just read the words contingent on... drug test…

“Fuck,” he grumbles, then picks up his phone again. Maybe he’ll call his mother first, after all.

—

You were never a big fan of autumn. A lot of your friends are - the season shifts and everyone starts posting about sweater weather and PSLs, the aesthetics suddenly revolving around pumpkins and ghosts.

You have plenty of ghosts, but not the right kind.

Your phantoms haunt your phone, mostly. You feel it buzz in your pocket, hear it vibrate on the table from the other room. Sometimes you even wake up from a dead sleep, sure you’ve heard it going off, reaching for it frantically, only to turn on the screen and see nothing. 

No missed calls, no new texts.

You dream about him, too. In some of them, you’re still fighting, yelling at the top of your lungs in a way you never had in real life. In some, he isn’t even present - you just know he’s missing. In some, you’re trying to get to him, but never can - stopped by nonsense laws of dream physics.

In one of them, you tell him you love him, and he staggers backwards, breaths starting to rasp the way they had when you’d talked him through a panic attack, like he was just as scared of the admission as you had been.

Maybe he had been just as scared about it, back when it had mattered. Maybe he was just better at handling it than you are.

You never see his whole face in your dreams - only glimpses, fragments. You don’t want to examine if that means anything.

You fucking hate your brain.

You’re starting to hate your phone, too.

—

You lose November to grey - the whole month, a wash. You miss three days of work, unable to do anything - unable to cook, unable to get dressed. You feed the cat because you have to, and it’s the only reason you leave your bed except to pee.

When the grey days break as December dawns, you follow an impulse and schedule an appointment with your primary physician through their app. As you click the button to confirm the appointment, you burst into tears, loud and embarrassing. You cry with abandon, pulling your hoodie up to cover your face, to muffle the noise that you can’t stop.

You should have gone to a doctor years ago, and you know it. It feels like a big deal. It feels like a potential mistake - like opening a can of worms and now you have to deal with them. It feels like admitting something is wrong when you’ve worked so hard to look like nothing is. It feels like a farce, like nothing that bad is wrong with you, and you’re wasting everyone’s time.

But you keep the appointment anyway. You make yourself small in the chair on the other side of your doctor’s little table, and you admit, eyes on your hands, “I want to talk about my mental health. I think I’ve been dealing with depressive episodes. For… a long time, now.”

It’s so damn scary. As scary as loving and losing someone - like, yes, Vernon - had seemed. And you’re somehow surviving both.

Something to think about.

You buy yourself good job you did the scary thing ice cream on the way home. You go inside, put it away, and then scoop Nana off the couch, burying your face in his belly and cooing, “How is my favorite boy today?” He tolerates your nonsense with aplomb, as always.

Chan has never forgiven you for naming a cat “Banana Bread”, and you think that’s why Nana has never warmed up to him.

Nana loved Vernon, but you don’t want to think about that.

You kind of want to text him. You think he’d be proud of you for what you did today. You think he’d tell you good job.

(Chan would tell you good job, too, and will, when you call him later. But it doesn’t feel the same.)

You wonder if he’d answer if you told him. You wonder if he wouldn’t answer, but be proud of you anyway.

You fill the prescription, you leave your contact info with a therapist as advised by your primary physician. You don’t text Vernon.

You take your pride and your sadness, your fear and your hope and you channel them into greens and yellows. As late autumn grips the leafless trees outside, you paint something that looks like spring.

Now - Winter

Winter howls through your life like you personally pissed it off. You and Nana huddle under thick blankets with your tablet night after night.

Sometimes you close your eyes and remember Vernon’s hands slipping underneath his own hoodie on your skin; it helps you feel warmer.

Sometimes you think about the way he’d said the word wasted about the time he’d spent with you; it makes you feel cold all over again.

You click through all the tabs you’ve had open for days - different universities with decent visual arts programs, all advertising admission for the spring semester.

None of them are big name schools, not like the one you’d turned down all those years ago. But they aren’t nothing.

You’d brought it up to your therapist last week and she’d encouraged the idea - accepting that you can’t unstitch the mistakes in your tapestry, but you can control what new patterns emerge.

This was the plan: start classes. Open social media accounts to showcase your work. Network through school, look for job opportunities at galleries or for collectors. Open commissions, maybe.

On your best days, this seems like a list of goals to shoot for. On your worst days, this seems like a list of things you’ve already failed at before you’ve even started.

You text options to Chan, ask him, which school colors can you see me in?

Your best friend sends back, all of them. any of them. look at you go!!

You sit in your living room and watch snow fall lazily outside the window. You daydream about what classes might be like, if you get in. You take pictures of the snow in the park, then try to paint something similar once you’re home again.

You wonder if Vernon’s doing okay. You worry that he’s going through his hard days alone. You worry that maybe he’s not - maybe he found someone who helps him better than you did, maybe he’s so happy with them that he doesn’t have hard days at all.

(You know life doesn’t work like that.)

You paint Nana, just for shits, and post it on instagram. It gets the most engagement you’ve had so far. Someone messages you asking if you do commissions for pet portraits. You frown, looking at the message.

Maybe I do, you think.

Your apartment is cold. You burrow under blankets, rub your legs together like a cricket to warm them up, and think maybe after I’m a cicada, I could be a cricket next.

There’s no one to share the joke with who’d get it. Just another of the thousand ways you feel Vernon’s absence in your life. You hadn’t realized how much space he took up until he was gone.

—

Everywhere Vernon looks, all he sees are circles. The hands on his kitchen clock circle each other, align, move on again. They tell him he has two minutes to get out the door before he’s late.

He checks his appearance in the bathroom mirror, straightens his tie, smooths back his hair, then grabs his crossbody bag and heads for the bus.

The hands of the clock in his office mark his passage through his schedule: one circle until his 10:00 meeting will end. Two more after that and he can take a lunch break. A circle and a half until his one-on-one with his boss, to discuss his first few months here.

On his lunch break, Vernon rides with two of the guys he works with to some nature trails nearby, as they usually do. They swap suits for joggers and zip-ups, pop in airpods, and head out. Vernon didn’t run before this job - didn’t exercise much at all, really. He’d gone along with the guys the first time there had been an unseasonably warm day, just to be out, and he’d found it felt good to get fresh air and some endorphins before returning to his desk. 

It’s cold today, the air brittle as he inhales, but the rest of his body feels warm as he works to keep up with the other guys. It’s not as hard as it used to be, keeping up. 

The trail is a circle, too, passing a small, man-made lake before looping around back to the changing facilities. On his wrist, a fitness app closes circles to quantify his steps, his speed, his progress.

At home again, he runs his thumb around the edge of the circular joystick as he waits for Seungkwan and Wonwoo to sign in and join him for a round or two before he figures out dinner.

“Some of us were going to the bar tonight, you in?” 

“Shouldn’t,” Vernon says. “But maybe this weekend?” Unfortunately, his new nine-to-five forces him to make decisions like this - better decisions. He kind of likes his job. He kind of doesn’t want to feel like shit in the morning. 

His mind, a circle - always coming around back to you when it gets too quiet.

He opens his messages.

how have you been? … are you doing okay? … hey, i’m - … I think I’m sorry … what if we did it differently …

Of course he doesn’t send any of them. Instead, he searches for your instagram. You’d never followed each other in the first place, and he considers it a win that you didn’t block him when it was over. But you haven't posted anything that he can see in the last eight months.

Except - one post. It looks like your cat.

He clicks it and realizes that it’s not a photograph, but a painting, and the caption links to another account. He clicks that, too, and finds himself on a page that seems dedicated to posting paintings only.

Yours, apparently. He scrolls through slowly, rolling to his stomach so he can look more closely. He never knew you painted, let alone that you were good - great, even, to his untrained and certainly unbiased eyes.

Part of the problem, his mind chimes in.

Somehow, despite understanding each other better than anyone else in your lives, at the end of the day you hadn’t known each other at all. 

Now - Spring

happy hour after lecture???

plsss can we

bestie YES!!!

The sender of the original invite - a girl close to your age called Juri - eyes you from two rows up, expectantly. Normally, you’d go straight home after class. But you’d been talking to your therapist about almost this exact situation - the way you closed people out, squandered friendships to the point that only Chan managed to hang onto you for more than a year. (Vernon had made it about two years, a sick voice in your head says, and then answers itself with, but you weren’t friends, anyway.)

So, you send the group chat, sure!

(You’d also been talking to your therapist about that last fight with Vernon. I can’t get that conversation out of my head, you told her.

I’ve been caring about you way more than I should, he’d said.

You’d been talking to her about how your brain had skipped like a flat stone right over that detail and had sunk deep on I don’t want to do this anymore.

“What did you think he meant?” she’d asked you, watching you carefully. “When he said do this, what did you think this was?”

Me, you’d whispered. Anything with me - hook up, sleep, spend time together, talk, anything.

She’d helped you see the context of the fight - that maybe by “I don’t want to do this” he’d meant “be with you but not with you”.

“Sounds fake, but okay,” you’d joked. She hadn’t laughed. Negative ten points at Therapy.

You were still working on trying to believe it.

You still weren’t sure if it fucking mattered what he meant, because instead of asking him, “what do you want, then?” you’d gone defensive, had greedily grabbed at the excuse to push him away, hard and careless. He wouldn’t want you back now, even if that’s what he’d wanted at the time. You were sure of it.)

Happy that you’ve agreed to go out, Juri flashes you a grin and then turns around in her seat to watch the board again.

The bar Juri chooses is cute, not crowded or noisy yet this early in the evening. You sip at a beer and talk with the girls about upcoming projects, about the professor you all can’t stand, about the term paper you all feel you shouldn’t have to do.

It’s nice, and honestly when you glance at the time and decide you’d better get home to feed Nana, you regret that you have to. Still, you make your way to the bar to pay for your portion.

You don’t even notice the lean, handsome man who sidles up next to you while you wait for your check until he speaks.

“What’s your drink?”

You look over at him, surprised. “Oh,” you say, which isn’t really an answer. “I’m leaving, actually.”

He gives an exaggerated frown. “It’s so early!”

You shrug. “Sorry. Places to be.”

He’s cute, you consider, as you pay your bill and head for the door. Two years ago, you probably would have picked up what he was putting down.

At home, you feed Nana, then collapse on the couch, pulling a throw blanket all the way over your head. Your stomach churns with discomfort.

You open your phone, find Vernon in your contacts.

You sit on his contact page, thumbs hovering over his number, for so long that your screen goes black twice while you stay locked in indecision.

Don’t call him don’t call him don’t call him.

But you’re lonely, and you miss him, and going out made you think of him, and you wonder what would happen if you did it, if you called. Would he even answer?

Eventually, you let reason win this time, and get up from the couch, the blanket falling from you like you’d shed a skin.

In your spare room, you eye the last painting you’d finished - mostly black but with a fractured, fragmented view of a tabletop littered with empty glasses and half-finished drinks, all the liquids a toxic, piercing neon pink. You hadn’t posted that one; it felt too much like an admission.

You stare down the empty canvas, tapping your mouth with the wooden end of a brush, deciding how to begin. You close your eyes and see the beast that’s followed you these last few years - even before Vernon. The embodiment of your shame, your regrets, your failures. It’s never left your side for long.

When you finally begin to paint it, you start with the claws.

—

you up for a 1v1?

arent you on a date???

obviously not.

you didn’t go? bro.

i went. it was just. idk.

it was just what?

idk dude.

you didn’t like her?

she was fine?? she was funny, and hot, and it was fine

so why are you home alone at 8:30 asking me to come online

Vernon rubs at his face in irritation. He doesn’t know what to say, how to explain to Seungkwan why the date had felt flat.

What could he say? It was fine. It just wasn’t… enough.

He could still remember how he’d felt the first night he met you. He wanted to feel that.

idk, he told Seungkwan. lack of chemistry, ig.

Now - Summer

You think you’ve learned a lot over the past few months - between starting classes again and beginning therapy, you’re just bursting with new knowledge.

Something you’re working on is appreciating the shadows.

In class, you work on shading, on adding darks even when you think an area should all be light. Sometimes, somehow, shadows are exactly what you need to make it right on the canvas.

You think about this concept for your whole drive home from therapy - how the shadows under trees change the way you see them, how the darks affect the lights, how the shadows in your own life are natural and maybe, in the end, not so catastrophic.

At home, you duck your head into the shadows under your bed and drag Nana out by the middle.

“Come be social,” you scold him, plopping him on the couch.

After dinner, you go back to work on what you were painting. You’d been stuck for a few days, not happy with any change you made, but today you have an idea.

You create a palette of black, grey, navy, and deep purple. For two hours, you work meticulously, adding the midnights, the bruises, the shadows. They belong here, too.

—

Chan tells you he’s proud of you, the next time he’s over, and it makes you cry even though you’re only one your second sip of wine.

“Stop it,” you scold, avoiding his gaze, burning up under the attention.

“I mean it,” he says seriously. “I’m so happy that you’re painting again, I could throw up. And going back to school? And therapy? Damn. The glow-up.”

“Ew,” you frown at him, because this feels safer than acknowledging that you have been working hard on yourself, on your life. “What year is it, 2017?”

He gives you a look to make sure you know that he sees through your bullshit.

“It’s not all perfect,” you admit quietly. You feel like it should - like you’ve done the work, and now you should get the happy ending. But it hasn’t worked that way. You’re still working at a job that feels like a waste of time, painting on the side. You’re accumulating some debt for the classes you’re taking. The grey days still come and go, though admittedly their grip is less intense.

And you still think of Vernon, near daily.

Chan shrugs. “That’s normal. Perfect isn’t real. It’s unattainable. If your therapist hasn’t told you that, then you’re wasting your money.”

You laugh. She had told you that. Another thing that was easier to say than to put into practice.

You recork the bottle after a second glass, put it in your fridge for another day. Returning to your spot by Chan’s side, you tell him, “I keep thinking about him.”

Chan cocks his head, probably unsure if you’re talking about who he thinks you are.

“The guy I was hooking up with.”

“Ah.” He inclines his head knowingly.

You recount what he already knows - that you’d been whatever you were for about two years, that it had ended. That it was your fault.

“I think,” you say, taking a deep breath mid-sentence to steel yourself for the truth, “I think I could have loved him. I don’t know… maybe I did.”

“Either you did or you didn’t,” Chan points out, which is fair.

“It’s just…” you say, thinking about it. “We kept our boundaries so tight. We didn’t talk during the day, didn’t meet each others’ friends or families… barely got to know anything about each other. But it was like… even so, I think we just understood each other. It was like a lot of it just went without saying.”

Chan considers this, face serious. “Sounds like the potential was there, at least. If nothing else.”

“Yeah,” you said sadly, tracing the bottom of your wine glass with your finger. “Potential.”

Wasted potential. You’d heard that plenty before, just not usually about your love life.

Chan reaches out and shakes your knee playfully. “It’ll happen again,” he promises.

You don’t know what would be worse - if it never did, or it did, but it wasn’t Vernon. You’d never believed in there only being one right person for you - like soulmates or shit like that. But looking back at your time together, you’re not sure anyone will ever have a hold over you the way Vernon did. The grip he had on your life was unshakable.

Before he leaves for the night, Chan hesitates by the door.

“Hey,” he says, “this weekend? A bunch of the guys are driving down to the beach for the day. Wanna join?”

Something else you would have said no to, before. You’re trying to say yes more, plus you can’t deny that the sea air and sunshine sound like heaven.

“Sure,” you say, shifting to block Nana from slipping out the front door as Chan opens it. “Text me the details.”

Later, you ask what you should have asked first. who all is coming?

Chan sends back the list - six of his friends, ending with, seungcheol-hyung and his friend hansol. i think you’ve met him once or twice at the bars? he’s a good guy.

Something in you knew this was going to be the answer. You counted your breaths, tried to talk yourself down from immediately bailing on the plan.

Sleep on it, you told yourself. See how you feel in a few days.

You followed your own directions, but for days your mind spun around the question, buzzing and frantic.

Are you ready to see Vernon? To be around him, and act normal? Is it a good idea? Will you fight? Will you fall back into old habits? Will he bring out the worst in you?

Actually, you consider, that isn’t fair. Vernon never brought out your bad habits - he just coexisted peacefully with them, never tried to kick them out.

You’re scared that seeing him will undo the work of getting over him. But that isn’t true, either - because you don’t think you moved on from him at all.

In the end, you do slip into old habits - you let yourself make a potentially bad decision. You decide to go.

A twisted, quiet part of you is kind of excited.

The louder part is scared to death.

—

The day is perfect - blue sky, barely any clouds, hot and bright. Chan drives you and two of his friends; a second car with the others is somewhere en route, will meet your group once you’re there.

Chan’s car arrives first, and you help the guys unpack the trunk. Loaded down with beach bags, chairs, and coolers, you make your way unsteadily through the sand, pausing at one point to take off your flip-flops, tired of how they slow you down in the dry, loose sand.

You pick a spot and lay the towels out, unfold the chairs, get the umbrella anchored down in the sand so it doesn’t fly away.

The whole time, you can’t stop watching the parking lot, waiting for the other group to arrive - waiting for the moment of truth. What will happen when Vernon sees you?

Once everything is set up, you lay out, trying to enjoy what is admittedly beautiful weather. It’s so bright that when you lay on your back, you want to throw an arm over your eyes to block out the light, to really relax.

It feels like forever when you hear a distant shout and sit up, blinking against the glare of the sun, returning your sunglasses to your face as you get your bearings. A group of Chan’s friends approaches, one of them - Mingyu, you think - shouting hello and waving like a fool.

You stand to greet them, waving hi when they get close enough. You bite your lip nervously and glance at Vernon. He’s near the back of the group - their car had brought four people, just like yours - and his face is absolutely unreadable as he looks at you. It reminds you of the beginning, when you noticed how hard he works to keep his expression blank.

He’d stopped doing that with you, near the end. You’d almost forgotten.

Meeting and holding his gaze, you give him a solemn nod. I can be normal if you can, you try to promise, silently.

The moment is tense; you aren’t sure how he’ll react. Then, he gives you his own tiny nod back.

Relief melts through you like butter. Seeing him aches, but it isn’t unmanageable. You can do this - you’ll both be okay. You’ll both get through the day.

You help set up a second umbrella while a few of the guys move a few yards away to set up a volleyball net.

For a few hours they play volleyball. You sit on your towel with airpods in and watch, trying not to notice Vernon, trying to keep that part of your brain locked tight in its little box. But the sunlight streams down, not half as blinding as his smile as he jokes and laughs with Chan and Seungcheol, nowhere near as glittering as his laugh when he doubles over, elbows on his knees.

The sun is almost directly overhead when you get warm enough to brave the ocean.

“I’m gonna swim for a few,” you announce, standing and brushing some loose sand from your thighs.

Chan collapses on his towel, next to yours, pushing his hair back and heaving a deep breath, exhausted from volleyball.

“Maybe in a few,” he wheezes. “I need a minute.”

“I’ll go,” Soonyoung says, tossing his sunglasses onto his towel so he doesn’t lose them in the ocean.

You head down to where the waves are breaking onto the wet sand, foamy water dancing up to your ankles before retreating into the deep sea again. It’s cold, but under the midday sun the cold is welcome. You wade until you hit the awkward point where it’s hard to stand without being constantly battered by breaking waves, and then you duck underneath the surface and swim past the breaking point.

Treading water, you turn to see if Soonyoung made it out with you. He’s still back a bit, jumping each time a wave comes through. Beside him, Mingyu splutters, having taken a wave to his face. A few feet back, the water only at their knees, Vernon and Chan laugh maniacally.

You missed those goose honks.

The guys take their time catching up to you until all five of you are treading.

“Do you think there are jellyfish?” Soonyoung asks, peering into the water behind you.

“Probably,” Vernon deadpans, and you laugh, then immediately wonder if you shouldn’t. Luckily, he grins at you appreciatively as, behind him, Chan points out that there could be sharks, too.

“I’ll probably go back in soon,” Soonyoung says, trying to sound cavalier, but his unease shines through.

“We’re fine,” you promise. “You don’t have to out-swim the shark. You just have to out-swim Chan.”

Chan curses and splashes water at you as the others laugh.

You talk and float for a little longer until you consider the goosebumps on your limbs, the growl in your stomach.

“Anyone interested in lunch?” you ask.

Mingyu raises his arm and squints at his watch. “It is one,” he says. “I could eat. What did you guys bring?”

Chan starts rattling off what’s in your coolers as you start to make your way back to shore. You reach the point where your feet touch the sand, only to get slammed in the back by an incoming wave. You stumble a little, and someone holds your elbow steady, helping you stagger through it without completely tripping.

You give Vernon a grateful smile as he retracts his hand, but your stomach is swooping and your arm is burning where he’d held you.

Rejoining the others, you plop down on your towel, suddenly exhausted. The ocean water drying on your skin under the sun makes you shiver as you dig through the cooler. You pass out drinks to the guys closest to you, toss a bag of chips at Seungkwan when he asks for them, then settle back on your own towel to eat.

After, full and happy, you flop backwards and put airpods back in. Seungkwan and Soonyoung head back to the volleyball net. Mingyu and Chan seem content to bake in the sun, like you, and beyond them the others have circled up and are playing a card game, open cans of beer in the sand beside them.

You feel truly at peace, and you take a moment to ask the universe - can I hold onto this? Can I remember, when things go grey, that these moments exist?

Once you’re warm again, you pull your shorts back on and whack Chan on the arm. He startles awake, pushing his sunglasses up to glare at you.

“I’m going to walk up the beach for a little,” you tell him, pointing, just so somewhere will know where you are. He nods, his head sinking back down to his towel, eyes closing again.

You walk where the waves flood over your feet every few minutes, never getting higher than your ankles. You search for shells as you go, carrying one or two, but mostly stopping to take pictures of them and leaving them where they are, wanting to paint them later.

There are four shells in your hand when you hear someone call your name. You turn, surprised, and your stomach swoops again; Vernon approaches, hat twisted backwards and sunglasses perched over the top of it, one hand reaching out to show you a shell he’d found.

You hold still, you let him come to you. When he’s close enough, you hold open your hand and let him drop the shell there. It’s a mostly-white spiral top.

“Thanks,” you say, looking away from the shell to meet Vernon’s eyes.

He looks down at the other four in your hands. “You gonna paint them?”

You feel yourself physically take a step back in shock. “What?”

Embarrassment darkens his face just slightly. “I’ve been following your art page,” he admits, shoving his hands into his shorts pockets. “I didn’t know.” Then, “I feel bad that I didn’t know. You’re really good.”

You shake your head. “I wasn’t painting when we… I used to. I stopped for a long time. Just started again, after…” You trail off. After you left me. After I pushed you away.

He nods, licks his lips. “Does it help?” he asks, and you know exactly what he’s asking - does it make the rocks weigh less, does it make the grey lighter?

“Yeah,” you say, nodding. “In general. It’s been… kind of cathartic.”

You both stand there, the shells on your palms between you, a decision teetering between you.

You should be the one to mend it, you think, since you were the one who’d ruined it before.

“Do you want to walk with me?” you ask, a little tentatively. “You don’t have to - I’m fine on my own -”

“I’d like to,” he says, voice quiet, and something about it makes you want to well up - that he’s willing to give you his time, that he doesn’t hate you as much as you deserve.

You walk quietly together as the sun starts to sink a little, casting everything a bit orange.

“What’s new with you?” you ask, finally.

And he tells you - new job that he actually likes despite how stuffy the nine-to-five thing sounds in theory, new mile time on his daily run, new friends through work.

“And you?”

You fill him in, telling him about taking classes part-time around your job, the commissions that aren’t enough to sustain you but aren’t nothing - you even shyly admit that you’ve been seeing a therapist.

It was the most either of you had ever talked about your real lives, you thought. It struck you how normal it felt, like it wasn’t something new or novel.

“Sounds like things are coming together for you,” he says.

“You, too,” you return.

Everything between you sits heavy, weighing the moment down, pulling towards the ocean’s depths like an anchor.

Then, at the same time, you break.

“It’s good to see you again.”

“Vernon, I’m really sorry.”

He stops walking, turns to face you, aglow as the golden hour inches closer. The sun is warm on your skin, the sand is warm beneath your feet, and you are dying to make it right with him.

“It’s good to see you, too,” you whisper. You’re scared of this moment - scared it will burst, like a bubble, like waking up from a dream that you can’t get back.

“Don’t be sorry,” he counters. “We both screwed up.”

You shake your head, feeling your throat tighten with emotion. “No,” you say emphatically. “You had every right to be mad. You were right that you were wasting time.”

He glances down, mouth pulling into a frown. “I’m sorry I said that to you. It wasn’t a waste.”

“Maybe not entirely,” you allow. “But you were right. I was never going to give you what you wanted - not back then, not with… how I was. That last fight we had… it would have been so easy for me to just let you in, and everything would have been fine. And I just… couldn’t.”

He listens seriously, watching your face carefully. You look at your feet in the sand, feeling the beginning trickles of shame down your spine. But you remember that the beast can’t get you - you’d locked him on a canvas. You don’t succumb to him in these moments anymore - you take a breath and remember that you’ve grown since then.

“And -” you swallow, take a breath, “- and I’m sorry. You deserve so much better than that.”

He nods, slowly, his eyes suddenly on the ocean. You watch his throat work, and your stomach clenches in regret. Then, he says, “I should have been clearer with you - way sooner than I was.”

“I’m not sure it would have changed anything,” you admit sadly.

He nods again, agreeing. “Still,” he says.

Still.

“I really like your paintings,” he says, and then laughs at himself before you can respond. “Sorry, that sounded so lame. I don’t know the art terms or anything. I just… like them.”

You smile despite how serious the conversation had felt only seconds ago. “Thanks,” you say shyly.

“What’s the best thing you’ve learned in your classes?” he asks, stepping a little closer.

You don’t even have to think about it. “Shadows,” you say simply, looking up at him. “Even the brightest painting is nothing without the shadows.”

His smile grows slowly, and you know he gets it. Of course he does. He’s been in the trenches right alongside you.

“I thought about you a lot,” he admits, and you realize how close you’re standing. Had you been standing this close the whole time?

“I did, too,” you murmur, heart hammering.

His fingers brush up your sun-warmed arm, and you shiver despite the heat.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, voice low, a little unsure.

He’d never asked before.

You nod, unable to speak, lifting up to meet him halfway. He kisses you like he never had before - featherlight, gentle, like you’re the most fragile thing.

Neither of you say anything after, but as you start walking back towards the guys, you slip your hand into his, and he gives it a squeeze.

You’re still hand in hand when you reach the towels, and you watch Chan clock it out of the corner of his eyes. He doesn’t call you out, and you promise yourself that you’ll give him the conversation you owe him - later. When you’re alone.

You stay a few more hours; the guys play a little more volleyball, you sit on the towels and fill pages in your sketchbook. You draw Vernon - all angles, so sharp, so beautiful.

When the sun sinks low enough, the guys start packing things up, and you help haul everything back towards the cars.

As you slam the trunk of Chan’s car shut, you turn to find Vernon waiting.

“What about now?” he asks.

“What?”

“You said not back then,” he explains. “You said back then you couldn’t give me what I wanted. What about now?”

The question lands like a mine. “I don’t know,” you say, as honest as you can be. “Vernon, I don’t know. I’m scared - I’m scared I’ll hurt you again, mess it up again. I don’t know what I can promise you.”

He considers this. “Okay,” he says finally, in that easy way of his. “What if I don’t want a promise? What if I just want to know… what’re you doing next Saturday?”

You and him, you’d existed only at night. You’d never done this before - considered dating, considered giving him more than just the hours between midnight and three am. You’d never considered letting him be him and not just one of your many vices, one of your distractions, one of the things you used to hide from how broken you felt. But here, now, with the summer sun beating down on your shoulders, you take in his whole, unfragmented face and see how open it is, how willing he is to meet you where you are.

You’ve been missing out on so much, you think. It’s about time to stand in the light - with him. With him, you could try.

“Nothing,” you say, smiling up at him. “You got a suggestion?”

“Yeah,” he says, sending you a wink as he starts to back away, the car keys jingling in his hand. “I know a place.”

<- Prev

thank you so much for reading my veyr first svt fic!! i hope to write many more in the future :)

[liliesonpandora]

I’m a Warrior Like You

Pairing: Jake Sully x Daughter! Reader

(Gifs by World-of-Pandora)

Plot: You are Jake and Neytiri’s only daughter and youngest child. You disobey your father’s orders and leave home to join the mission where you put yourself in danger. He saves you and you have a fight when he gets home.

Warnings: violence, family conflict, angst

Note: single quotation indicate inner thoughts; double quotation indicate spoken dialogue

You and Lo’ak sat crosslegged in your family’s tent at High Camp, waiting for Neteyam to return with news from the war party. As his figure appeared at the entrance, you both got to your feet anticipating his report.

“Teyam, what’s going on?” You asked him without hesitating, curious to find out what the mission was.

He paused to take a breath after running all the way back. “Cargo train is on schedule to come through pretty soon. It’s carrying weapons and all kinds of materials. We’re gunna stop it on the route and steal as much cargo as we can before they hit us back.”

You and Lo’ak exchange a look. You both knew that hitting a cargo train was huge. They go incredibly fast and don’t do unplanned stops until reaching their destination. They wouldn’t be expecting an attack.

“When do we head out?” You ask Neteyam.

He quickly glances at his brother with an expression you don’t quite recognize. He hesitates a little with his response, which is different from the conviction he had less than a minute ago. “Um Dad’s waiting on a report from Tarsem, and then he’ll give out orders any minute now.”

You run over to the weapons shelf to grab your bow and secure it on your body. Lo’ak and Neteyam watch you and you can already tell what they are thinking without having to ask. ‘So that’s what this is about,’ you think to yourself. You speak before either one of them could say anything.“Dad is gunna let me come this time, he has to.”

“I don’t know, baby sister. Don’t get your hopes up,” Neteyam warned while giving you a sorry look. Your father rarely lets you join the war party like your brothers. You were the youngest. But you’ve been practicing your flying and hunting everyday. It was only a matter of time that he let you come on the mission. And this one was big… they would need as many eyes in the sky as possible.

“If you guys are going on this mission, then so am I.”

Lo’ak shot one more skeptical look at Neteyam and shrugged. They could think whatever they wanted, but you didn’t care. A few moments later, Jake came sprinting into the tent. His eyes scanned the area to take a look at his children, and they settled on his eldest first. “Okay, we’re moving out. Neteyam, report to Tarsem. He will put you and the other young hunters in position. Follow his orders.”

“Yes sir,” Neteyam replied with a nod before exiting the tent.

He turned to Lo’ak next. “Lo’ak you’ll be spotting from above and calling in any enemy aircrafts. You know what to do.”

‘So do I,’ you think.

“Wait for your mom’s signal and then head out, copy?”

“Copy.” Lo’ak’s eyes linger on you for a while while he is exiting the tent. You give him the slightest nod, letting him know that you would be okay. You watch him leave and then turn back to your father. He is now reaching for his rifle and checking his ammo. You wait patiently for your order, but it never arrives.

Without even looking in your direction, Jake begins to walk out of the tent. You couldn’t believe he was doing it again. ‘Theres no way he’s going to ignore me,’ you think. You run after him and clear your throat. Suddenly there was a lump that wasn’t there before. You remember that every other time up until now, you had stayed home while your parents and brothers went on missions. You never complained, only obeyed. But today was going to be different. Today you were ready, and you were certain of it.

“Um Dad, what about me?” But no response. ‘Is he too preoccupied? Or is he ignoring me?’

“Dad!” You shout, which finally gets his attention and he looks in your direction, waiting for you to speak. You can’t tell what the expression on his face is. ‘Is he annoyed?' You don't know and you don't care. His eyes travel down to your body, like he is only now noticing that you are equipped with your bow. You swallow and speak.

“What should I do? I can get in position with Lo’ak when it’s time,” you offer.

“No babygirl, stay here with your grandmother.”

“What?”

“You heard me, y/n. I don’t have time to argue with you right now, get back inside.”

You open your mouth to protest, but he interrupts before you can. “Don't make me repeat myself, you understand me?”

You said nothing, only stared at him while your bottom lip started to quiver.

“Do. you. understand me?” He said once more, but much slower and harsher. ‘What was this tone? He had never spoken to you like that before. Why was he being so mean?’ You were fuming with anger. Why was he so unwavering in his decision? You hesitated for a little, considering talking back. But you knew this wasn’t the time or place, it would only make him mad. So you swallowed your pride and answered him.

“Loud and clear,” you say through gritted teeth, making sure he knew how you felt about the situation. Without another word, he mounts his Ikran and takes flight. At this point, you are fighting back tears. You couldn't believe he would force you to stay home once again while everyone else was out fighting. But you knew one thing... there was no way you were going back inside.

Everyone had already left, and your grandmother was stationed in the healing and recovery tent. You could leave and no one would even realize you were gone. You moved swiftly because you knew that if you gave yourself more time to think, you would talk yourself out of it.

You ran to your ikran, which was already saddled up. It provided for a smooth mount. You connected your queue with hers and felt her deep breathing through tsaheylu. “Okay girl, let’s do this,” you tell her. And within seconds, you were off gliding through the air.

Lo’ak had left a good while ago, but that didn’t matter. You knew exactly where to meet and you would catch up to him in no time. You often listened in on the war party’s strategic meetings. Not only were your senses keen, but you were also good at staying hidden and evading anyone before being caught. It served you well.

You eventually spot Lo’ak and circle around, greeting him. A smile lit up his face and he looked excited to see you. You had to admit, it felt good to be out here with him; it was exhilarating.

“Y/n! Dad let you come?”

“Yeah, he gave me orders right after you left,” you lie.

His smile of excitement turns into a skeptical smirk. “Bullshit, then how come he didn’t just tell us to leave together?”

You rolled your eyes in annoyance at how quick he assumed you were lying. You thought about continuing the lie but ultimately decided against it and admitted the truth. “Alright fine, he told me to stay home. But I left anyway.”

He put his hand up to his head and groaned. “Jesus, you’re done for.”

“I’ve always done what he asked of me and this is the first time I’m doing something for me. He can’t be that mad.”

“I don’t know sis, first offense is always worse cause he expects more from you. Take it from me, a repeat offender," he warns with his palms up in the air.

You hate to admit it, but Lo’ak might actually be right about this one. You really didn’t want to disappoint your father, but you felt like you would be easily forgiven. Yeah you snuck out, but you were being safe and useful. You decided that the reward was worth the risk. “Don’t worry about me,” you tell Lo'ak.

“Okay come on, I’ve been circling the area.”

“Anything, yet?”

“Nah.”

After waiting for what seemed like five minutes, you spotted something down in the forest. “Lo’ak, AMP suits 9’ o clock.”

“Holy shit, I didn’t even see em.”

“Hurry up and call it in. Or do I have to do your job for you again?”

“Damn sis, go easy on me. Maybe Dad should have you out here."

You smiled at him proudly. You’d call it in yourself but you left your tech at home, which was an amateur move on your part. Oh yeah, and there's also the fact that you weren’t supposed to be there and your dad would kill you if he found out.

Lo’ak pressed the mic on his comms and called to your father. “Devil Dog come in, this is Eagle Eye.”

“Eagle Eye, send your traffic.”

“Got eyes on two AMP suits, carrying heavy gear.”

“What’s their position? Over.”

“About two klicks south, right past the old cave. Over.”

“On my way. Over.”

Lo'ak turned to you next. “Y/n, you should probably get out of here before Dad sees you.”

“No way, things just got exciting.”

“It’s your funeral.”

“We’re so far away from the action, it’ll be fine. I’ll leave before he-

“Eagle eye come in, this is Devil Dog.” The sound of your father's voice interrupted you.

“I read you," Lo'ak responded.

“We’re taking fire over here, I won’t make it to you. Abort the mission and get to cover!”

“Copy that!"

"Alright baby sis, we gotta go," Lo'ak said to you.

“Wait, we can do it.”

“What?”

“Dad can't get here in time, but you and I can do it.”

“I like a little adventure as much as the next guy, but that plan is actually insane.”

“It will work. You saw all that gear they were packing, it's a major jackpot. There's two of them and two of us. If we attack from above, they won't even see us coming. They won't have time to hit us back."

“I don't know about this. Usually, I'm the one doing stupid shit. Who are you?”

You ignored his joking demeanor, you were serious. “Aren't you tired of being overshadowed and ignored?”

“Yeah, I guess?”

“I don't know about you, but I wanna prove what I can do. And I know I can do this.”

He looked like he was thinking it over, going through all the scenarios in his head. And then finally he agreed. “Okay.”

“Okay?” You repeated.

“Let’s do it.” You knew you could count on him, he always had your back. The both of you began to dive down into the forest, getting closer to the targets.

“How’s your aim?” You asked him.

“Could be better.” Suddenly he was worrying you.

“That’s not what I wanted to hear, big bro.”

“Don't worry, I got this.”

“That’s more like it.”

The two of you go over the plan a few times while flying to the location. Hidden amongst the trees, you would aim your bows and take them out simultaneously as they were walking in your direction. If either of you failed, it would alert them to your position and trigger a counterattack. So you knew you couldn't fail. You took a few deep breaths, all your training had prepared you for this moment. You lined up your arrow and signaled for Lo'ak to do the same. "On me," you whispered. He nodded in agreement. Then you mouthed a countdown silently and… released.

You watched as both arrows instantaneously pierced the glass of the suits and the bodies that inhabited them. The machines, no longer having someone to control them, fell to the ground with a huge thud. You and Lo'ak looked at each other in amazement. He put a finger to his lips, telling you to stay quiet. You waited for a while in silence, wanting to make sure they were dead. When it felt safe, you jumped down from the trees, leaving your ikrans perched. Creeping up behind the machinery, you confirmed the kills. "Oh my god,” you exclaimed, in disbelief that it actually worked.

"We actually did it! Woohoo!" Lo'ak yelled while raising his arm to give you a high five. You slapped his hand with yours and pulled him in for a hug. "Hell yeah, I knew we could do it!" You cried. The smile on Lo'ak's face was big and bright.

"Okay, now let's see about the gear," he reminded you. You nodded in response. You were about to begin opening cases of weapons when you were interrupted by the loud whirring of a helicopter approaching. You looked to the sky to see where it was coming from. ‘Oh no.’

“Shit! Run back to the Ikran, go!" Lo'ak screamed.

Without another word, you took off running as fast as you could. Why the hell would you leave the ikran so far away?! You weren't thinking.

"Call Dad!" You screamed over your shoulder at Lo'ak, but you couldn't see where he was. Your vision was blurred and your legs felt like jelly from the adrenaline. An explosive hit the ground by your feet, flinging your body into the air. You hit the ground below with incredible force. And then there was just darkness.

***************************************************************

“Y/n! y/n! Baby, wake up please!” You slowly opened your eyes and your father's face came into focus.

“Dad?”

“Oh thank god, what the hell are you doing here y/n?!”

Then you remember where you were and what you did. You opened your mouth to speak, but it was difficult to talk. “I just... wanted to help.”

You moved to sit up, but dizziness overtook and there was an aching pain in your head. ‘And where was Lo'ak?’ you wondered. “Woah not so fast, I got you.” Your dad said before he scooped you up in his arms and began to run.

"Dad."

"Yes, baby."

“My head hurts.”

“You must have hit it pretty hard. But you know who I am and where you are, so that’s a good sign.”

“I’m sorry. Are you mad?”

“Never mind that. I’m gonna get you home now. Just try to stay awake for me okay?”

“Okay.” But you could already feel your vision getting blurred again, and your eyelids felt extremely heavy. The last thing you remember is your father calling your name before the darkness.

***************************************************************

You opened your eyes to the ceiling of the tent. You were lying in one of the bigger hammocks at home, and there was wrapping all over your body. You guess that's where you were wounded. You notice that your head no longer hurts like it did before. Grandmother must have healed you. You begin to sit upright. “Ma ite, you are awake," your mother said softly with a smile.

“Mom?”

“How are you feeling?”

“Better. Where’s Lo’ak?”

“He is with Neteyam, he is alright.”

“And Dad?”

“He is taking care of the aftermath of the mission, he will be home soon. You hit your head, we were so worried about you.”

“I’m sorry, mom.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to scold you. I’m afraid your father will do enough of that for both of us.”

“You don’t agree with him, do you?"

“That doesn’t matter right now, my love. You know how much worse this could have been. You are never supposed to go off on your own, even if your brother was with you.”

“I know.”

The screech of your father’s ikran echoes throughout the cave. Your heart begins to race. ‘Be strong, be strong,’ you repeat over and over in your head. Your mother gives you a concerned look before she leaves the tent to greet your father.

“Hey sweetheart, where’s y/n? Is she feeling okay?” You hear him ask her. 'So he is worried about me, that's a good sign.'

“She’s inside. She said she feels much better… Jake go easy on her for now, she’s still recovering.”

'Uh oh,' you think. Your father enters the tent and walks over to you.

“Dad.”

"You feeling better, honey?" You nod, taken aback at the question.

“What were you thinking? Do you know how dangerous that was?!"

“Yes sir."

“You deliberately disobeyed my direct order and put yourself into harms way!”

“You refuse to let me come on missions! I was just trying to show you that I can handle this! The mission was going fine, I just got ahead of myself at the end and… I messed up okay! I know that!

“There’s a reason I told you to stay home.”

“Really? What is it then?! Because whenever I ask, it seems to just be cause you said so. I have listened to you every time. I have obeyed every order from you. And the one time…”

“You’re not ready.”

“I’ve passed every test a warrior needs to pass, Dad. I am more than ready.”

“You don’t understand the gravity of what you've done. What if things were worse? I need to be prepared to get all of you out of there if something goes wrong. If I don’t even know where you are, let alone that you’re out there at all… how am I supposed to make sure you’re safe? Did you think about that?"

You said nothing.

“No, cause you didn't think at all. If you can’t even follow simple instructions at home and trust my authority, how can I expect you to do that on a mission?”

“So, you’re authority at home now too?" You don't know why you said that. You just wanted to get back at him.

“You’re grounded. If you think you’re leaving high camp in the next century, you’ve got another thing coming.” He turned to leave the tent.

‘He can't keep me here,' you think to yourself. “We’ll see,” you mutter under your breath.

He turned back towards you. “What did you just say?”

‘Fuck.’ “Nothing.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“Stop treating me like a little kid.” You don't know why you kept talking back. You were just so upset, you couldn't sit there in silence like a little soldier.

“So grow up, and stop acting like one! You made your choice and now here come the consequences. But you can’t even take em like the so-called adult you wanna be. Instead, you’re throwing a tantrum cause you didn’t get your way.”

“I'm not throwing a tantrum. I’m yelling because I’m just as good as Neteyam, but you don’t respect me enough to let me show it.”

“Guess what sweetheart, you gotta give respect to get respect.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You wanna know why Neteyam got to go on all the missions? Because he listened and acted responsibly when I asked him to. Because I know I can trust him. I can’t say the same for you.”

“Jake!” Your mother hissed at him. She knew he went too far with that one.

That hurt… a lot. “I hate you!” You screamed, tears welling up in your eyes. You looked up at the roof to slow the process but you knew that if you blinked or thought about his words, the tears would fall. You refused to let him see you cry. You refused to let him know just how much he hurt you. So you ran out of there as fast as you could.

You couldn’t even see where you were running to, but you ended up in Neteyam’s arms. He must have been there the whole time… listening to the entire argument. You tried to push him away but he held you tightly against his body until you stopped fighting him.

You let it all out, all the tears you were holding in. He held your head to his chest as you cried and ran his hand over your hair. Lo’ak appeared next. You were sure he got his ass chewed out too, but here he was to comfort you. You released from Neteyam’s hug to look at him. “You okay?” you ask, examining all the wraps on his body.

“I’m fine sis, don’t worry about me.” He wiped your tears away with his hand and tucked a few of your braids behind your ear. Neteyam’s arm was still around you, and you didn’t want him to let go. Both your brothers knew what it felt like to get scolded by your dad, so it warmed your heart that you weren’t alone right now.

“It’s okay baby sister, he won’t be mad forever. It will blow over soon,” Neteyam comforted.

“Whatever, I don’t care.” You lied, you did care. You had never had a fight with him like this. He was always so gentle with you, it felt like your special bond was breaking.

“Come on, let’s go find Spider at the lab. He’ll cheer you up,” Lo’ak offered.

“Yeah, that’s not a bad idea," Neteyam chimed in.

You appreciated that they didn't tell you ‘I told you so.’ So you nodded and agreed to go, taking Lo'ak's hand and following behind him.

“Neteyam.” You heard your father say from a distance away. It sounded like he was trying to speak quietly.

“Yeah, dad?” He replied.

“Just make sure she’s okay. And come back for dinner.”

“I will Dad, don’t worry.”

Jake probably thought you didn’t hear him say that. You could not believe he had the nerve to yell at you like that and then act like he cared.

Neteyam and Lo’ak ended up being right, Spider did get your mind off things. You told him all about today’s mission and he went on and on about how cool you were. He was a great friend to you, like another older brother… only smaller.

When you and your siblings returned home, you joined your parents for dinner. Everyone made small conversation, but you ate in silence. Your dad kept trying to catch your eye, but you tried twice as hard to avoid his gaze. You lost your appetite and could barely stomach the food, which was unfortunate because it was your favorite dish. You were sure your mom made it, especially for you.

You weren’t about to let your father think you were still affected by him, so you ate your dinner as quick as you could. You hoped that you could trick your brain into thinking you weren't feeling sick to your stomach. But that ended up backfiring because your dad reached over and refilled your bowl once it was finally empty. There was no way you could eat a second serving, so you accepted defeat and put the bowl down. Both Jake and Neytiri looked over at you in surprise. “Actually, I’m full,” you admit.

“Oh, I’m sorry sweetheart. You ate so fast, I thought you wanted more,” he explained. That was the first time you made eye contact with him all evening. He had a sad look.

“Ma ite, don’t force yourself if you can’t eat anymore,” your mom added.

“Thanks, it was delicious mom. May I be excused? My stomach is a little upset.”

“Of course, my love," she said. Your parents gave you a look of concern before Mo’at interjected. “Shall I have a look at you, my child?”

“No grandmother, I’m okay. I’m just going to go rest.”

You went off on your own for a while, trying to occupy yourself with a million different things… like sharpening your knife and continuing to bead a necklace you had been working on. You stayed away for as long as you could before accepting that you had to go home at some point. Just as you were about to enter the tent, you stopped short. Your parents were talking… about you.

“Ma Jake, you were much too hard on her," your mother said.

“I can't let her think she can talk back like that and get away with it. Her attitude is out of line.”

“Hm… I wonder where she gets it from.”

“She wants to be treated the same as her brothers but when it comes to discipline, I’m too hard on her?!”

“She is used to being your little girl. If you yell at her like that, what do you expect is going to happen?”

“Why is she so eager to go out there on missions? She’s just a kid!”

“Our kids see Toruk Makto, the great warrior and the fearless Olo’eyktan of our clan. They just want to be like you and live up to your name. Neteyam and Lo’ak were like this too. Why would it be any different for y/n?”

“She’s not ready. She’s stubborn and she doesn’t listen. I can’t have her out there, it’s too risky.”

“No, she’s headstrong and she has been blindly following your orders without question... until today."

“What?”

“I know you are upset that she disobeyed you. But you know that you cannot keep her sheltered here forever. It is not the way.”

Your father began to say something but your mother cut him off quickly and continued.

“And this is not about her not being ready. She is more than ready. This is about your fear. She is your only daughter and she’s growing up. You are afraid to lose her and that is okay. But be honest with yourself and be honest with her, or she will end up resenting you for it.”

“Fuck, I just don’t know how to do this baby. It was so much easier with her brothers.”

“She doesn’t need a sergeant Jake, she just needs her father. That’s all you need to be. Show her that you care before trying to reprimand her. Right now she’s hurt and embarrassed, and you need to go to her and make it okay.”

“You always know the right thing to say.”

“I know, I'm amazing. Now go find our daughter.”

'Shit, he's coming,' you think. And you run as fast and as quietly as you possibly can. You went to a hideaway that you made with your brothers. The adults weren't supposed to know about it, but they did anyway. You were sure he was going to follow you there. You pick up the jewelry you were working on before and act busy, facing away from the entrance of the hideaway.

You hear him approach. “Sweetheart? You in here?” You don’t respond, wanting to hurt him like he hurt you.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you like that, it wasn’t okay.”

You’ve been replaying that fight over and over again in your head all day and trying to hold it together. Now that he was addressing it directly, you felt like you wanted to cry. ‘No, not now please. Not here in front of him’ you told yourself. You could hear the leaves on the ground crunch beneath his feet. He had entered the hideaway, but you couldn’t see because your back was turned.

“Please turn around, I just wanna talk about it,” he pleaded. He sounded desperate but you wouldn’t give in that easily.

“What is there to talk about when you won’t listen? It’s your way or no way, I should know that by now.” Your voice was trembling, you were so anxious now that you were being confronted by him. You couldn't hold back the tears.

“I’m ready to listen, okay? I promise.” Based on what you overheard between your parents, you knew he was being sincere. But you wanted him to suffer just a tad bit more.

“Come on, I’m trying here. Please look at me?”

But you couldn’t stay mad for long, no matter how hard you tried. You turned on your heel and faced him finally, but your eyes stayed at your feet. “Babygirl,” he called to you. His voice was different this time… softer and almost broken. When he called you that, it felt like suddenly everything would be okay again. And all you wanted to do was run to him.

You rose your head to look up at him. At the sight of your tear-stained face, he instantly dropped to his knees and opened his arms without saying a word. “Daddy!” you cried while running to him. Your little body hit him with so much force, he almost fell backward. But he held you tight, stabilizing the both of you and placing kisses all over your cheek and temple. Your crying became audible, but it sounded muffled against his body. It was like you were letting out all that you’ve been holding in today. It’s been such a long day.

“Shh, I’m here. I got you now,” he soothed you softly while running his hands over your hair. Your airways felt tight and it was difficult to breathe normally while you cried this hard.

Jake could feel you hyperventilating against him, so he motioned for you to take deep breaths with him. When your breathing returned to normal, he lifted you off the ground and began to walk over to the corner; taking a seat with you on his lap. The tears kept flowing while you spoke.

“I’m sorry… I talked back to you,” you cried.

“I know baby, it’s okay. I’m sorry too.”

“You are?”

“Yeah. I said a lot of mean things to you back there, and I wish I could take it all back.” He cupped your cheek with his hand and the warmth of his skin was so comforting.

“I’m sorry I said that I hated you, I was just so mad at you. I didn’t mean it.”

“I know you didn’t. But even if you did hate me, I’d still love you.”

“Even after what I did today?” You looked at him with surprise but then lowered your gaze down to your lap, suddenly feeling ashamed.

“Look at me,” he ordered. His voice was stern but still soft, so you obeyed.

“There is nothing you could say or do that would make me stop loving you. No matter how upset I am, or how much we argue with each other… my love for you will never change. Because you’re my daughter, and I love you unconditionally. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Now tell me what was going through your head today.”

“I just wanted to prove myself to you and show you that I could do it. And I know now how dangerous it was to go without informing anyone. And how dangerous it was to attack without orders. But Dad… we did it! We took out those guys so fast. We just weren’t prepared for the counterattack and everything got screwed up.”

Jake let out a deep sigh before speaking. “Babygirl, you don’t have to do things like this to prove yourself to me. Although you’re younger than Neteyam was when I let him on his first mission, you surpassed him in skill when he was this age.” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“Then I don’t understand. You know I can do it, so why won't you let me go?” Your mother said it was cause he was scared, you knew that now.

“Because I’m selfish.”

“What?”

“You’re still young, but you’re growing up so fast. I wanted to shield you from this war as much as I could. But it was foolish of me to think that I could keep you from being anything less than what you are. You’re a warrior like me. That’s what you’re meant to be, as long as you want to be.”

“Do you mean that?”

“Mhm. Your mom and I were talking it over and I couldn’t understand why I became so angry that you would even think of doing something like this. And she said it was because I was scared of losing my little girl. And she was right.”

You placed your head on your dad’s chest, wanting to comfort him like he was doing for you. He looked down at you and smiled, then continued to speak.

“When I saw you with your bow today, all dressed for the mission… I just wasn’t ready to send you out there. And when Lo’ak called me and told me that you were there with him, it felt like my heart had stopped beating. Thank goodness Lo’ak was fine when I got there, but to see you lying there unconscious… was one of the scariest moments of my life.”

He must have felt your tears on his chest because he looked down again. “Daddy, I’m really sorry that I put us in danger today. I didn’t want to make you and mom scared. I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay, y/n. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you upset by telling you all of this. All that matters is that you’re safe now.”

“Thanks for saving us."

“I’ll always come and save you kiddo. Anyway, I want you to know that you are ready. It was me that wasn’t ready to let you go.”

You took a deep breath and you felt like a weight had been lifted off your chest. You could breathe again. “I feel like I’ve been fighting to be seen by you. Trying to live up to not only you, but Lo’ak and Neteyam as well. It was so hard, Dad.”

“I know baby, you can stop fighting now. You’ve worked so hard. You have exceeded my expectations, and you make me proud every day. I see you.”

Once you hear these words, you are overwhelmed with emotion. You started to believe you would never hear your father say this. You hug him even tighter and you feel his strong and steady arms around you.

“Will you forgive me for how I acted?” He asked.

“Of course I will, I love you.”

“I love you more.” He gave you another kiss on your forehead.

“Wait, this means I’m not grounded anymore right?”

He chuckled. “You are no longer grounded. But don’t think you can get away with that little attitude in the future.”

“And I can go on missions from now on?”

“For now, you’ll go on the ones I let Lo’ak go on. But you know you can’t pull today’s shit again.”

“I know.”

“You guys will follow orders, and always have your communication devices on you. No rogue missions, no impulsive decisions. Any slip ups from either of you, and you’re staying home. Copy?”

“Copy.”

“Good girl. How’s your head and stomach feeling?”

“So much better now.”

“Good. Oh and for what it's worth... I saw those AMP suits in the forest and your aim was spot on. We got the gear too, so thank you for that.”

“Yes! I knew it!”

“Alright alright, you got your skills from your mom…”

“And my attitude from you?” You cut in.

He laughed lightly. “I was gonna say confidence, but yeah that too. You’re definitely my kid,” he said while messing up the top of your hair.

“Dad!” You groaned.

“Come on, I’ll change your wraps before bed. I’m sure your grandmother’s probably sleeping by now.” And he knelt down in front of you so you could hop onto his back for ride like when you were little. You climbed on, wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned down to whisper in his ear.

“Now you gotta redo my hair too.”

“Alright, I got myself into that one. Let’s get outta here.”

He carried you out of the hideaway and you made your way back to your tent. A father and his little warrior.

[harrystylesfan2686]

Disappearing Bodies

Pairing: PolyFeysand x Reader

Summary: girls from several war camps have been disappearing, no one know how. So you, your high lord and lady try to investigate the case.

Warnings: dead bodies, murder.

A/N: heyy everyone! I know I haven't posted in forever, thats because I've had my biggest writers block ever. I tried to make this as interesting as possible; please consider leaving a comment and telling me your thoughts on this. Hope you like it!!!

And yes, I will be posting the part 2 in a few days.💕

Thanks for the request @shorttstackk.

Masterlist

○●○●○●○

Your eyes scan over your desk again, trying to find anything that can help you with this case. This new case has you working non stop, racking your brain to think of anything that can help solve this problem.

There have been reports coming in from almost every illyrian camp, complaints of females and young girls going missing without a foot print left behind. Nobody knows what's happening to those girls because none of them have been found yet.

Cassian has had his men search the entire Illyria, along with himself, Nesta and Morrigan to try and find some type of clue or location, but they have all come back with no avail. You and Azriel have been looked in his office, trying to find something in the files but that, too, doesn't help you at all.

Files are sprawled all over your desk. Some stating the names of the victims and some reporting thier last seen location. It's been eight days and twenty six victims, and that's all you know.

You sigh and close your eyes, head hung down as you go over the information you have, again, to just find something, anything that can help you find those innocent girls.

"Here." A thug filles the silence and your eyes open to see Azriel putting down a cup of tea. You straighten up from where you were standing with your arms rested on the edges of your desk.

Whispering a small thank you, you pick up the cup with one hand and stir the spoon with the other. Your eyes again looking at the names scribbled on the paper.

Calantheria

Lyriana

Cirys

"Did you find anything new?" Azriel asks, sipping his from his own cup.

"No. You?" Your eyes look at his.

"None of my spies have picked on anything." His voice is calm, a contrast to the storm swirling in his eyes.

"How can this be possible?" Your eyebrows narrow in anger and frustration. "How can a someone be so clean in abduction that they don't leave a single thread behind?"

He hums, eyes analyzing the files. "Whoever it is, they are too good at covering thier tracks."

Silence fills the room again as the two of you fall quite, drinking the tae and thinking about the same thing again.

You were Azriel's second before finding your mates, the High Lord and Lady of Night Court. It was a surprise to everyone when you found out, considering how rare it is to find one mate, and finding two at that.

Three mates are extremely rare cases, only one out of a thousand pairs can you find a tripple pair. You were invited into the inner circle right away, everyone was kind hearted towards you.

But even though you were practically Azriels equal, you would never admit that. He taught you everything you know about spying and assassin ship. For you he will always be your senior.

The quiet between you was suddenly intrupted when Rhysands voice fills your head and the two of you leave everything and rush out of there as fast as possible.

Come to my office. Cassian found something.

-☆-

The eight of you stand surrounding a table, on which lies a map of the Illyrian Forest.

"A few of my men stumbled upon an underground tunnel. While patrolling, one fell in, not knowing about the cave because it was covered up with branches and leaves." Cassian circles an area with ink. "This is where the cave is. We went in just to make sure it isn't some small hole or anything, and it isn't. The hole stretches out into a gaint cave after entering, big enough for all of us to fit in."

He glances at everyone before continuing, "There were bloody footsteps at the starting of the tunnel. A pair of them, one can be identified as a male and other a female."

The air thickens around the room, all of you worrid and a little relieved to find at least something relating this case.

"I'm not sure what is in it, but I didn't have my men search it, if this isn't the seriel criminal we want, but some entirely different creature , I'm not losing my men for nothing." He finishes and Rhysand hums, silently agreeing.

"Alright then, we will go to see what this is." Rhysand looks up at you all, waiting for you to nod and continues, "Amren will stay at Valaris, guarding while we're gone. Nesta can watch over the War camps, so that if any other kidnapping happens, she can inform us right away."

The both of them nod and even though Nesta looks like she wants to say something, she doesn't dare go against Rhys' orders. Cassian interlaces his fingers with hers, as if to say not to worry.

"I will enter the cave first, Feyre, Y/N, Azriel, Cassian, and Mor will follow after. Cassians soldiers will stay at the cave entrance in case we encounter the very criminal we are looking for." Everyone nods.

"Any questions?" Rhys looks at everyone with raised eyebrow.

When no one comments he stands up straight and extends his arms to you and feyre at each side of him, ready to winnow you out. Azriel mimics him and grabs hold of Cassian. Mor takes Nestas hand to drop her off at the camps first and follow us after.

"Let us go." Rhysands voice echos out as you all fade into darkness.

-☆-

You walk through the woods with the others. Cassian leading your group and the rest of you follow close behind.

The entrance Cass found is surrounded with trees and grass, making it impossible to notice except the way it was found.

You reach there and Cass nods to one of his gaurds stationed near it. He turns to your group as you all stop with him, he points the hole, big only enough for one person to fit through.

Rhysand jumps in first and you all follow one by one. You go after Feyre and step up, looking around. It looks just like a normal Cave. Alighted with fire by cassian's comrades.

"Alright, I did not expect the cave to be this big." Mor's eyes scan over the walls with interest, before she looks at Cassian. "Sure you said it'd be big but I didn't expect this big. I mean you could fit an entire house in here."

Rhysand forms a small flame in his hand and steps forward taking the lead, "Everyone be on your gaurd." He doesn't need to remind you.

You walk between Rhysand and Feyre, her hand held yours in a tight grip, the only sign of her anxiousness. You walk further and further into the dark, the walls only illuminated by Rhys purple fire.

Suddenly you see a flicker of orange ahead, all of you noticing it at the same time as your steps falter for a second before continuing without making a sound. You step closer and finally see the scene ahead of you.

Your breath catches as you realized just what is happening. Candles surround a body of a girl, creating a circle in which the body is kept. She lies there as still as stone, eyes closed and not even breathing. The light from the candles shine against her skin that is now as pale as snow and lips that was probably soft and pink now cracked and blue.

Your hand slips from Feyre's as you step forward enough to see the face clearly. This is one of the girls you were looking for. Her name is Lyriana.

No. Was.

Now she's gone. Dead just as you expected. You still remember how her parents had begged you to find her when she got lost. How they begged you to find her and bring her back alive, offering you anything you wanted in return.

She was one of the firsts that was lost, it had been a week yet her parents never lost hope, knowing that their high lord and spymaster will find her. Well, you guess they did do that part.

"Is that-" Azriel starts but you speak before he could, knowing what he will say.

"Lyriana. Age 16. Single child. 7 days missing. A Valkerie in training. One of the first victims." Your voice sounds bland, void of any emotion and your mates pick up on the ill feelings starting to swirl inside you immediately.

"This isn't good." Mor comments under her breath.

"Oh yeah? What gave it away? The fire or the dead body?" Cassian replies just as slowly, his tone a mixture of sarcasm and anger.

You take another step closer to the body and just as Rhysand is about to warn you not to get too close, a sudden snap sounds and a hand wraps around you foot, the fingers clutching on tight enough to break bones;

And pulls.

You gasp out in pain, not expecting the attack and fall on your back. Your head hitting the hard ground but paying no mind to it, you take out a knife sheathed at your waist and thrust it on the hand with force.

At the same time a blast of purple fire hits the arm holding your foot. The force of your attacks together results in the arm cutting and blasting off into a mush of blood and muscle. An extremely unsettling site.

The blood flies to your body, small droplets smearing onto your leathers as you quickly brush off the remains of the fingers around your ankle and stand up. Soft hands hold you as Feyre forces you to step back with her and Rhysand stands before you, ready for another attack.

Now that out of danger, you see the arm that tried to hold you captive belongs to the very girl you declared dead. She now kneels and stands on her hands and knees, arching her back in an unnatural way. The eyes that were closed and peaceful, now are wide open and frowning at the lot of you with anger. You take in a sharp breath when you realize that her eyes doesn't have irises, they are entirely white white red nerves siding at the edges.

The hand that was blasted off, still driping tons of blood but it is as though she doesn't feel anything because she lets out a low growl before standing and streaking out her next attack.

Everyone is ready this time though, before Rhysand even lifts a finger, shadows cover Lyriana's entire body, slithering around like ropes and contract their hold. Thightly binding her limbs to her body and enabling her to do anything except squirm around on the ground, trying to fight.

Everyone stays silent for a while, only her growling and hissing echoing through the space, widened eyes staring shocked at Lyriana's state. She behaves as though she doesn't know anything but  attacking.

Rhysand turns to you and pulls you into his arms, "Are you alright?" His soft voice breaks the dark fog starting in your mind. You nod silently and rest your head against his shoulder. Feyre kneels at your side and gently touches the ankle that now covers a ring of dark red bruises in shape of a hand.

You step back a little to see the wound for yourself, half cresents form where the tip of the fingers were, stretching out into small sharp straches, oozing out little blood that was already starting to heal.

You sigh and step around them as they straighten up, "I'm fine. Let's keep going."

[circeyoru]

Your Special Shush Muse = Requested

The Request

[Sung Jinwoo x A-Rank Hunter Artist!Reader]

There was something you’ve been doing outside of your Hunter business. A calmer and less active activity. That was drawing. You love to just sit at a high place and just observe the people and their livelihood in the city. You used your <God’s Eye> to watch over people and see far, it was because of your hobby that you mastered your Hunter’s skills after awakening so easily. 

Your eyes would glow a faint aura with smokey wisps at the corner of your eye extending to your ear. The deeper the colour of the aura, the more concentrated you were at something or someone. Usually, it’d be faint to the point no one noticed because you didn’t need to doom in on the details. Once you had a basic view and some inspiration, your hand would move over the blank page, and a drawing slowly formed.

Being in high places also gives you the advantage and privacy needed for an artist such as yourself. Before awakening, you were content with being on the roof, now you could sit on the edge of a high building or the ledge of a roof. It’s mostly due to your <Wormhole> ability to create a vortex that gave you the power to teleport, but only in spaces where you could see. You had convenient abilities, but that’s not all you could do; they were abilities you were most familiar with compared to the others.

Your pencil scratched through the paper in a thick black line when your music was suddenly interrupted by an ear-piercing ringtone. You growled at the destroyed drawing in front of you before sighing, life of a Hunter is so annoying, but it was easy money as long as you’re ranked high enough and careful. You placed your pencil to your side and tapped on the side of your headphones to answer the call then reached for an eraser. 

“Hello? State your business…”

“Where are you?”

You frowned at the lack of greeting or small talk, well, it was good for you since you wanted to get back to your drawing. You carefully tried to erase the accidental line on the page. “Somewhere high in the city, not sure where I am. Why?”

“Your presence is needed for an inspection after a report of a Double Dungeon. I’ll send you the location, head there immediately. You know what to do.” And the call ended.

You cursed Woo Jinchul and his workaholic habits, if he wanted to work so much, don’t drag others into it. Still, a Double Dungeon was rare. So maybe you’ll get some inspiration from that? You shook your head and went into a Hunter mindset. After putting away your sketchbook and stationary, you checked your phone for the location while creating vortexes for you to travel down from your current location.

“What?!” Your eyes widened as you stopped mid-travel at the words your eyes landed on. This location was where Sung Jinwoo would have his D-Rank dungeon raid. Something happened? No way, why was it always Jinwoo?

Your hand raised as you ran through vortex after vortex, your heart and mind racing just as fast, if not even faster. You reached the site in record time, finding some members of the Hunters Association scattered around doing their work. You looked for Jinwoo among the survivors making their brief statements before being sent to the hospital. When he wasn’t among them, you went to question the more healthy-looking survivors. 

To your horror, they only looked away when you asked for Jinwoo. They couldn’t admit it, but their faces says it all. They abandoned Jinwoo in that dungeon. You don’t know how, but you managed to hold yourself back from punching them or lashing out. There was a glimmer of hope; Jinwoo always have some way that let him survive at the worst odds. 

“I’m going in.” You told Jinchul firmly. 

Jinchul nodded and gestured for his men to follow after you into the gate. “There’s not much time until it closes. The boss was already defeated. You have 15-20 minutes, tops.”

“I’ll use <Wormhole> if I run out of time.” You set your phone with a timer of 15 minutes; better safe than sorry. Once you entered through the gate, you immediately activated your two skills. Swiftly bringing the team to the Double Dungeon and looking for any clues as to where Jinwoo would be, the least you could do was bring back his body for a burial. 

You took a step back and readied your bow and arrow for anything while the men pushed open the double doors. When nothing happened even after a few seconds, you used your <God’s Eye> to survey the inside from a safe distance. Your view landed on the altar, but flinched at the amount of blood that pooled at the bottom. Looking up, you were met with Jinwoo’s unconscious body laying there.

“Hunter Sung Jinwoo is inside!” You shouted at the men and put away your weapon in favour of heading straight for him. “Jinwoo! Jinwoo!” You tried to shake him awake, but he remained unresponsive. You placed your ear against his heart and listened for something. His body was still warm and there was a heartbeat, albeit weak. “Thank goodness…” 

After confirming that Jinwoo was alive, you let Jinchul’s men bring Jinwoo out and to the hospital. You scanned the area again to mentally catalogue the surroundings so Jinchul could put it into a report. Another ability of yours was to transcribe what you see and recall on paper, like you were a human instant camera. You call it <Photoshot>. 

While you waited for Jinwoo to wake up, your mind went blank, and your hand moved across the blank page. Your eyes stared dreamily at Jinwoo’s peaceful form, sighing from time to time. You couldn’t explain the relief you had when Jinwoo was still alive after all that blood you saw on the alter. The torn pants leg must have meant he might have lost part of his leg, but it was still there. You have to thank whoever healed him as the first responders. 

“Drawing your crush again?” Jinchul’s voice snapped you out of your daze.

“Hello to you too.” You greeted without giving the man a glance. Yes, you have a crush on Jinwoo and you never once told him or anyone. You’ve had it since school before he dropped out due to needing money. You even had a separate sketchbook with all forms of doodles and drawings of Jinwoo. What can you say? You have dedication. “You know that’s better than me lashing out at the survivors…”

“It is.” Jinchul nodded in agreement. You were always touchy when it came to subjects regarding Jinwoo. Because you were of a higher rank than him, the two of you were worlds apart and your work was more valued than his. You saw this prejudice as something that belonged to the deep end; anyone that says otherwise belonged to the deepest part of the Earth. 

As for how he found out about your little crush… He walked in on you hugging a drawing of Jinwoo. He can’t say anymore nor could he mention to anyone else. Unless he has a death wish. He doesn’t want you vortexing him into some acid or killer contraption. 

Another thing was your darker side that you kept at bay. Whether it has been there since the beginner or emerged after your awakening as a Hunter, he’s not sure, but it wasn’t a pretty sight. As if you turned to another person when triggered, your bloodlust and cruelty was another level from the criminals. You could give them a run for their money. The saying goes, ‘Don’t offend the Quiet Hunter’.

“It’s been two days; you should rest.” Jinchul tried to get you to leave the hospital multiple times already. Judging by the number of balled-up papers on the floor to your side, you’ve been in the same spot for a long time. 

“What if he wakes up when I leave and goes into another dangerous dungeon?” You pouted as your hand stopped. Your eyes turned their focus to your drawing, and your fingers brushed through the drawing of Jinwoo’s cheek even though he was right in front of you. Perhaps you didn’t want to touch him since your fingers were dusted with the graphite powder from the pencil and drawing.

“It’s his choice as a Hunter.”

With that, you left Jinwoo in Jinchul’s hands. You didn’t want to, but you had to earn money for your family too, plus you wanted to help Jinwoo while it was out of commission. During the time you were gone from Jinwoo’s side, he grew. You didn’t notice it until you compared your drawings page by page. From an innocent childlike to a mature adult. You never outright observed him while you were in his range, but used your cheat skill. To say you weren’t flushed like a red tomato was a plain-out lie. 

Once, you peeked in on him doing exercises and saw him half naked. You fell off the roof and nearly dropped to your death if not for your sketchbook falling on your face to snap you out of it. You made a vortex to land yourself on the roof again. You clenched your heart and felt it beating like crazy. Curiosity killed the cat and you wanted to look again. Within seconds, you were falling again. Literally.

Over time, you had gotten used to it and didn’t shy away from Jinwoo’s new and incredible view. In fact, you drew it all in your sketchbook. Completely unaware of the Shadows that were staring at your actions with glee. You did, however, find it odd that there were times when you couldn’t observe Jinwoo with your <God’s Eye> and you had asked him what he was doing during those times. 

“I was just in the dungeon. Why?” Jinwoo nonchalantly answered your question before sipping on his coffee.

“Oh, nothing at all.” You flinched, you looked away while cupping your cup of drink, “I was just looking for you and you weren’t around.”

Jinwoo placed his cup down, leaning over the table, “What for?”

You gulped, leaning back into your chair unconsciously. “N- Nothing. Just Hunter business and see if you wanted me to bring you to some weapons shop for a discount.”

Jinwoo grinned and ruffled your hair in a brotherly manner. “I got some nice drops, so I don’t think I’ll be needing new weapons or gears for a while.”

“Oh. Okay…” There goes your chance to go out with him. 

Nevertheless, you love times where you and Jinwoo would just sit in a cafe or quiet restaurant just chatting and catching up with your life. You love how Jinwoo appeared more confident and prideful in a way that you couldn’t explain. It was his overall aura and imagine. Plus, the aura around him practically screams to you that he was no long an E-Rank or The Weakness Hunter of All Mankind. How you craved and prayed for such a day to be true. If it were a dream, you hpoe and wish for it to last as long as you and he lived. 

At the top of a tower, you were giggling to yourself at Jinwoo’s appearance on TV. The silliness and ignorance of him was worthy of a cute doodle and a drawing of him showing off his power. Your hand moved over the pages like you were possessed, even the weather couldn’t deter you from your mission. “Jinwoo’s so cool.”

“Thanks.”

“Ahhh!!!” You hugged your sketchbook to your chest and turned the direction where the voice came from. You knew that voice anywhere. “Jinwoo! When did you get here?! Weren’t you at the Hunters Association seconds ago?!”

“You know I can travel quickly and wherever.” Jinwoo tilted his head to the side innocently. His eyes traveled down to your sketchpad in your arms. “So, what are you drawing that got your soul split from your body?”

“Nothing! Not something you can see.” You claimed with the fiercest face you could muster. “So leave, this is my spot, I came first.”

Jinwoo still smiled, “But I seen it before.” He yoinked the sketchbook from your arms effortlessly, he was an S-Rank Hunter. He flipped through the pages and made comments at every page while you withered away in the corner. “Wow! These are so good! You make me look like some god.”

You mumbled how he was practically one in your mind, but you didn’t want to when you were dying of embarrassment. He knows… He migth as well know with this…

Jinwoo chuckled at the hearts doodled around the page. His eyes traveled to you and he closed it, holding it in his arm dedicately. He kneeled down to your level and tapped on your shoulder to make you turn around.

“What… I’m so embar—”

As smooth as your pencil over your page, Jinwoo took your chin in his fingers and leaned in close to you. Giving you a soft kiss on your lips. You blinked twice while Jinwoo stared with your eyes as if he was looking into your soul. You heart beat like a drum while Jinwoo still appears as calm and collected as ever. 

Jinwoo finally backed up and grinned at his handy work. He waved your sketchbook in the air, “I’ll take this as your confession and you can take this,” His finger tapped your lips playfully, “As my way of saying ‘I’m yours’. It applies both way okay?”

Thank whatever god there is, because you managed to nod. 

Jinwoo got up. “Good.” He dragged you along with him, pulling you up but your legs gave up from your crouching so you fell into him with a face full of muscles and hotness. His chuckles made your face light up with heat and redness. He gave you a hug, speaking right into your ear, “I’d appreciate if you’d only draw me in your sketchpad and not some other unworthy muse.”

Note: Yup this is it! It was in my story file for a while and I just decided to post it. This is I think my third request for this fandom? There are some other requests in my inbox that are ideas that I've drafted already so no complains when I tweak it a bit or don't fulfil the request 100%.

Anyways, hope you guys enjoyed!!

Circe Y.

My Works: MASTERLIST

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