#I regret this so much I should be the one with her

[multipleoccupancy]

Theo drew in a breath as they spoke of what it had been like after Sloane's betrayal. He missed working with Samantha in the field but he was so relieved she had an office position that kept her safe instead. He thought about Violet and her potential disorders. He had noticed she stayed away from the big window in the past, but he also understood why. "They manifest and you work them out as you go. I didn't really understand my OCD for a long time and then the paranoia made it much harder to reach out for an explanation." His counterpart had done a number on her thought and he had to think for a moment on what to say. "I suspect that a fear of heights is only natural after what you have been through. But you see now how these things come about?"

He nodded about there being enough agents to merit a HR department, though even he didn't know exact numbers. However he should have expected her to fire off with relentless questions. Theo did feel overwhelmed for a moment and he wondered if he should shut the conversation down or risk destabilising how far he had come in the last few days. There was plenty there he wouldn't answer and he regretted opening up the option for her to ask. "They send another agent still, I have recruited a couple of people myself. I sit with them and talk about the work and ask them to join, giving them instructions on what to expect." Whether or not that was the right way he wasn't sure but he felt it was the best he could offer.

He purposefully skipped over how he was assigned missions and coded messages, she had a letter from Delta Green and that was enough. He didn't want her digging through his mail looking for triangles to see if or where he was going next. "I no longer have a team," he said plainly, "My team was Samantha and Sloane and he went and put an end to that. Since then I am either sent to other groups of agents on missions to discipline or lecture them or partnered up with agents when I am needed. They're strangers." Most of them anyway. Despite his trust issues he still had favourites. He dodged over the questions on monsters and she gave him the perfect excuse to do so with her final question. She should not have known about the Apocalypse Club and he raised a very fatherly eyebrow at her.

"It's a cultist ring, I am the lead agent in bringing it down one by one. Middle-Sized Tony is one of their leaders." He did not specify it was in the city, nor that it was a physical place, not wanting Violet to go looking. "They're very dangerous people. A lot more put together and in control than Sloane. They mainly work in crime and amass ridiculous funds through it." Of course he had his own instructions on handling them from the Horned One but he had to bring cultists in enough that he was still able to stay the lead, in a way he felt it balanced out. "I wouldn't normally leave my files out like that, I am sorry I did and you saw. It won't happen again." There was still elements of fear in his tone despite himself, as if he was preparing to be punished in the back of his mind and trying to mitigate against it.

However, he saw her embarrassment about the letter incident and shook his head. "I should have been more respectful in how I handled that too. I never meant to upset you but I panicked," Theo explained honestly and watched her carefully in case he upset her further. "I'm sorry I shredded your letter," this apology much more genuine than the last. "I should have explained this to you sooner. But it's easier now that you know why I didn't want you to read it. I was so scared."

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎 & 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 @multipleoccupancy

"It must have been difficult," she mused a little bit sadly, "when Samantha stopped working as an agent. If she was the only one you trusted..." Her dad must have felt really alone, especially after Sloane's betrayal. "I understand that you're distrustful, after what Sloane did." But then again, it seemed that was a disorder, gained from his time as an agent. "How will I know if... if I have a disorder? I've seen so many things already. And... I still can't get anywhere close to the window." Violet didn't usually talk about that. She supposed it was obvious, and yet she pretended it wasn't an issue.

Violet was very curious about Samantha's job, now. Luckily for her, Samantha was around. Maybe she could ask her about it? "There are a lot of agents, then?" Enough for Delta Green to need an HR representative.

Her dad had just allowed her to ask him whatever she wanted to know, and yet Violet fell silent for a few seconds. The questions were jostling each other in her mind, leaving her speechless. She felt like it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and didn't want to waste it on stupid questions! "How do they recruit agents now, then? And how do they tell you your missions? Do they send coded messages? Do you know the other agents on your team?" Surely her dad wouldn't be surprised to hear her firing questions at an impressive rate. Fastest draw in New York! "What's the scariest monster you've ever seen? How many monsters have you killed?" And finally, a question she asked with a blush on her cheeks: "What's the Apocalypse Club? I just- your file was opened on the table, and I saw the name."

After that, she had to take a moment to catch her breath.

"I understand now, why you were worried. Why you shred the letter. You were just protecting me. They shouldn't have sent that letter in the first place, not after what they did to you." Violet looked down, embarrassed by the huge tantrum she had thrown about that letter.

[misguidedasgardian]

GLADIATORS

CREGAN I.

MASTERLIST

Summary: You see your father’s latest acquisition in a closer way, a wild man from the North who had become one of his gladiators.  

Pairing: Slave!Gladiator!Cregan x Domina!Reader

Warnings: Ancient Rome AU, Cursing, slavery (and everything that comes with it, technically rape, forced labour, punishments), blood, guts, gladiator battles, lude language, nudity, sex and everything related is no biggie here, we’re a ‘sex positive’ Republic, mentions of sex, same sex couples, orgies, and more.

MINORS DNI + 18

Wordcount: 6,7 k

Notes: This reader is young perhaps… like 18? 20? but so is Cregan!

“Dad, he is old!”, you whined. You heard your older brother snicker by your side, as their silly wives snickered like the silly girls they were. You sighed as you popped a grape into your mouth followed closely by a piece of cheese and bread and a sip of wine. 

“He’s got money… and he is in the senate!”, he said then, signaling one of the slaves to start lighting up the oil lamps along the Triclinium, the night had fallen over King’s Landing and it was getting dark.

“I bet you could find someone who’s in the senate who’s got a wife he is willing to divorce, and he won’t die of old age before the wedding”, mocked your eldest brother, but soon got quiet as your father looked at him with severity

“Nobody should divorce their wives on my account”, you said, the notion made your stomach turn. Even though divorce was a common thing, if a man desired another, or another union would ensure more privileges, or if his woman was unfaithful or not able to give in heirs to the family, they could divorce. A woman could divorce her husband too if she had her own reasons.

You knew the dowry of your middle brother’s bride was quickly being spent on the training of the gladiators in the Ludus underneath the house, so he needed to come into some money quickly, even though he would have to pay for your dowry.

One of the greatest events of the year was coming quickly, and his Gladiators needed to be in top shape. 

“Tomorrow I want you all there, at the games of Senator Tywin”

“Have we’ve been invited to the pulvinus father?”, asked your eldest brother

“Close enough, right by it”, he said, he seemed pleased, but you had learned to read him better, there was something lurking in his eyes that betrayed a darker desire… for more power perhaps.

“I've heard that Larys Strong and therefore Alys Rivers got an invitation this year to the pulvinus, and her gladiators in the primus at sundown”, whispered Martyn

You had two oldest brothers, Alton and Martyn. 

“That Ludus stands as such because of that whore Alys Rivers”, mumbled your father

“A woman Lanista?”, you asked, “how could that be?”

“She is not, but she whispers in her half-brother's ear while he aspires to be in higher positions”, explains your father. “While his brother, first born son and heir goes around playing gladiator”

“He is a slave?”, you asked

“He volunteer himself into that life”, murmured Alton, “you had seen him fight sister, Harwin”

“Oh wow!”, you said, not really knowing what to say, but rather, sipping your wine, you did remember seeing the biggest person you had seen upon the arenas of King’s Landing’s Coliseum. 

“Anyways, Alys stands as such because she was advised many years by Daemon himself the demon of the arenas”, mumbled Martyn

“Yes, fine Daemon/Demon”, your father would repeatedly, while on his cups, tell the tale of his biggest regret, and that was not purchasing a young Daemon while he was still in training, he grew to be the greatest gladiator at the arena, so much so he won his own freedom at the games of the Vulcanalia some years ago. Daemon, as many other gladiators, came from the shadowlands of Essos, as he sported beautiful white/silver hair and violet eyes. 

You would never say this outloud, but the gladiator battles were never a thing of your interest, not really. You did not liked the bloodshed, the gutting, you had no taste for violence, and yet, there was something to admire as you saw those men fighting 

They looked like they were carved from the finest artist, they stood like they were gods above the sands. They stood as fierce representations of the god of war himself.

“Well, her reign of depravity will not last long, I heard the Northman shows great promise”, mumbled Martyn’s wife Adella 

“What about the Northman?”, Martyn asked then, you raised your head in question. Oh the Northman.

The man had your father in a lockdown, taking most of his time, money and patience. He was ‘caught wild’ in one of the last incursions of the armies of the emperor to the wild tribes of the North, hence his nickname. Purchased by your father at the slave market, and trained for the last months. With the purchase, your father was hoping to impress Tywin Lannister himself, a senator and a very wealthy man, it did not work, so far, as the man planned to visit your father’s villa upon invitation to see the Northman’s training and hopeful subjugation. So far, no luck. 

He was caught fighting, he wasn’t a stranger to it, but there was a long way from being a soldier to being a gladiator. From being… whatever he was up there, to obey command from a man that subdued you into slavery. 

But again, your father’s temper has closely returned to normal, so, you could only assume the training was becoming fruitful, even so slowly. 

“He will never be tamed”, he said curtly, “but… if we keep managing him properly, we can turn that hate of his into the arena, he shows great promise”

“Forgive me father”, you said, raising from your place in the triclinium, “I take my leave to bed”, you said with a soft smile, nodding at everyone present

“Good, I won’t have you all tired tomorrow”, he said approvingly, and you nodded, thinking for which old bat he would have you presentable tomorrow.

He was determined to get you wed before the autumn plantings at the end of the year, and he didn’t seem to care to whom as long as it brought privileges upon his house. 

It was hot, so hot, you could barely stand, you were eternally grateful to your personal slave, Anya, who stood by your side, fanning you with a soft paper fan. She leaned into you as you allowed her, to also enjoy the soft waves.

Although, they brought some stench from all the people around you.

King’s Landing, although the capital of the great republic, stood famous for its stench, having grown rapidly and unprepared for it. 

The sun cooking the viewers of the spectacle didn’t help either.

The people cheered, bringing a new wave of hodor that made you dizzy and poor Anya almost faint

“Did you see that?”, asked your elder brother to the youngest, as two gladiators fought to the death, one cutting the other’s arm. HIs screams could be heard all the way up where you stood, near the pulvinus.

You rather stare into the sun, which you did. Soon, after midday, it was going to hide behind the wooden beams supporting the canvas on top of the Arena, there you truly were going to enjoy it. being able to relish in the shadow. 

“Tywin demanded only the best this city has to offer present themselves in his games”, the comment alone made you turned your gaze upon the Arena, as people cheered again, some even pushed you in their ecstasy, to see the gladiator in shining white armor decapitate the one missing his arm

“And Cole does it again”, said Martyn. The one who had an armor so polished it was blinding was known as Cole, he stood from the Rhoynar in the south, from Dorne itself, plucked from the desert to fight in another kind of arena. 

“See her gloat”, demanded Alton, you all looked towards the Lanista herself, Alys Rivers in the pulvinus, with a smug look upon her face, she of course was the one holding the wip that trained the man in the arena.

She was of extraordinary beauty, long lustrous black hair, long to her hips, wearing a deep green stola, beautifully decorated atop a black tunic, you wondered how she did not bake wearing such dark colors. 

She was stuck to the side of her rumored half-brother, he was a.. interesting man, thin and a bit twisted, unruly hair but fine clothing adorned his weak frame. 

“People of King’s Landing…!”, presented Otto HIghtower from the pulvinus, a small but central box, where the most prominent people attending the games would sit at. He was a Senator, friend to Tywin Lannister and apparently presenter to today’s games. Maybe he was the patron of the entire occasion, your father had been paid by a HIghtower man.

But this… was far from over.

It was odd to see such a gladiator so early in the day, the sundown was reserved for the very best part of the games, the primus, between the two best and more known gladiators. 

You found yourself thinking about like four names at the time.

Harwin, Cole, Aemond, and… the Northman.

Although Harwin was disapparating from latest presentations… he still held name, but he had lost his prowess as the last time he found himself in the Arena he asked for mercy as he found himself losing, he raised his hand in the air with both index and middle finger pointing to the skies begging for mercy, and it was granted.

Against Cole himself. He got terribly injured almost a year ago, thereafter only presenting himself in fights long before midday sun.

Yes, everything you knew about gladiators and fights was learnt unwillingly. 

But the primus did not belong to your father, so the Northman was fighting early, thankfully. You might have a chance to survive this heat, by retiring back to your father’s villa early.

Although, these occasions were like the market for older unmarried men. And your father would have you giving everything to sell…  

“... I give to you, from one of the greatest Ludus of the Republic, a man, from the wild tribes North of the neck…”, your father smiled proudly as the name of the family was spoken loudly for everyone to hear. “trained to wet the sands with the blood of his enemies… I give you… CREGAN!”, people booed at his entrance, as the wild tribes of the North had been villainized by the Republic, as relentless, violent and above all, uncultured and barbaric, but you had learned to read between the lines, they were described as such because they refused to bend the knee.

The gates of the Arena opened on the west side, revealing the men ready for battle. He stood tall and broad despite his young age, his dark brown hair tied back, although hidden by a thick helmet in the shape of a wolf’s head. 

He wore nothing protecting his torso, yet a thick metal belt putting together the lower part of a tunic. He wore forearm and shin protectors, and thick leather sandals 

He had a huge sword in hand, and a shield on his other.

The sight alone took your breath away.

You had seen him only practicing, briefly, as your father did not approve of you gazing from your balcony down to the men. As they would, “get distracted”, and you didn't enjoy their eyes filled with lust either. So you refrained from doing so, but…

The mere glimpses you had gotten of the men were nothing when putting in comparison to the men upon the sand today.

In all glory, in strength, as a gladiator was the mightiest representation of a man, or that is what your father always said.

This was a rare sighting though, as he had barely been making a name for himself, this time might be the first he presents himself alone. Your father was right, taiming him was proving to be incredibly difficult, but nobody could deny that even if he presented himself a gladiator today under your father’s ludus, he was still as unruly as the first time you laid eyes upon him, as the first time you gaze down upon him, entering through the gates, kicking and screaming, hair longer than you had seen in a men, even longer than he had now. 

He fought your father’s guards and even the ones who he would call his brothers this present day.

Tywin himself called for the start of the fight, his opponent was someone of the Ludus of Larys himself, one with lesser note, his name left your ears as soon as you heard it.

But you couldn't care less, as when he started to move upon the sands, the rest of the world could crumble around you and it would not matter in the slightest.

“He stands superior in all aspects”, mumbled one of your brothers and you couldn't tell which as you were so hypnotized.

Cregan attacked first, and that was very frowned upon in the Lanistas, as the first to strike tended to have disadvantage, his opponent met him half way and the clash of gladious responded all over the coliseum. 

There were some gladiators that favored other weapons, like the spear and short shield, or the Retiarius, that were gladiators trained with a net and a trident, in a fisherman fashion. 

It sounded laughable in paper, but they were quite impressive in the arena, not this time though, both gladiators stood with a gladious, meaning a sword, and a long squared concave shield.

The fight wasn’t lengthy, the superiority of the Northman was clear since the very first movement.

Although it wasn’t less breathtaking, as each of their movements, attacks, the way they moved, and deflected, its like they were dancing, dancing in a mortal rhythm 

The crowd cheered for them, and even though they were not on the Northman’s side, suddenly, they shifted as it became clear that he was the better fighter. 

Although you did not enjoy the games, there was this moment, this exact moment in which you felt like your heart was in your throat and you could tear your eyes apart from the fight. The moment where you really cared about who won, about who survived. The Northman, even thought it was the 

But it was brief, first Cregan drew blood on the arm of his opponent, and then, after a quick movement, the man was dead, dropped in a growing pool of blood on the floor. 

The magic was gone, and the crowd erupted in cheers, applauding, screaming his name, although there were those disappointed because of the outcome.

“He will be the champion of our house!”, said Alton, “mark my words!”, he said, as your two brothers hugged each other in happiness. you turned to Anya, who had a soft smile on her face, but kept fanning the both of you 

The rest of the fights happened quickly after that, the sun hiding behind the podium of the magistrates and people of importance in the city, which gave you relief as the day turned quickly, the sun moved above the sky until it hid behind the outer walls of the coliseum. 

The last fight ended quickly as well, Aemond killing his opponent in an impressive showing of strength and blood. 

Your father was called upon another man near the pulvinus, as you tried to stand your ground as people around you were quickly to leave the arena, but you managed to stand your ground, as your siblings found friends of their own to talk to. 

Your father came back to you, rubbing his hands amongst each other with a pleased look on his face

“I must attend a meeting in the magistrate’s house”, he said happily, “He spotted me in the crowd and invited me”, you smiled at him

“I’m pleased, father”, you said with a soft smile

“See yourself to the villa, with our guards and slaves, don’t wait up”, he commanded the lot of you. 

“We have been invited to the Lannisters”, mumbled Martyn, your father’s eyes again shone with interest. So he nodded towards your brother.

“I trust you’ll be well taken care of”, he said then, turning to you, he then signaled to one of his most trusted guards and even to the Doctore himself, the trainer of the gladiators.

“Yes father”, you nodded at Anya and the both of you exited the arena, followed closely by a guard. 

You turned quickly as you heard your name being called by a familiar voice, as you were int he shade of the hallways, as you turned you found yourself with your old friend from your childhood, Alysanne Blackwood

“How long haven’t we gaze upon one another?”, she said, grabbing your forearms as you did hers, she leaned in a made attempt to kiss both your cheeks as it was accustomed

“Too long”, you said with a long sigh

“We shall remedy that immediately!”, she said then, “you didn’t mind telling me your father’s Ludus was the one who owns the Northman himself?”, she tried

“Oh well, much has happened in the last couple of years”, you said shyly, smiling softly at her.

This was hardly the time, all the people were leaving the coliseum, and pushed you who were trying to stand on the sidelines. She looked at you with those deep green eyes of hers, she was so beautiful, lean and tall, with thick black hair fixed beautifully and big green eyes, her smile was contagious. 

“Well it's been too long”, she said then, as you failed to meet what she desired, “and I will wait no longer, to get reacquainted with dear friend”, she said, grabbing your hands

“My villa, its mine for the night, as my father meets with important men”, you offered, her smile was as beautiful as the rest of her

“Perfect, Jeyne Frey is also here”, she said, “we’ll go together”.

To say you were nervous was an understatement 

The night found you and your friends in the safety of the triclinium in your family’s villa, where the soft wine flowed freely and also the dining. 

“And his cock was huge!”, she said, making you gasp

“Alyssane!”, you chided, “don’t say that!”, you said, feeling your cheeks heated

“What? Cock?”, she teased, “Cock! Cock! Cock! COCK!”

“Stop it!”, you slapped her arm playfully

“I see them all the time!”, Jeyne said then, looking sheepishly, hiding her smirk in her cup of wine. 

“Only because you like to peek as your brothers have sex with slaves!”, mocked Alyssane 

“No I don’t!”, she said, but you knew she was lying. 

“I bet that Northman’s cock is huge too”, teased Alyssane, finally revealing her true intentions behind her and Jeyne’s visit to your father’s villa. You got quiet, so did Jeyne, but the expression on her face said it all, she was as intrigued as Alyssane

“I wouldn’t know, even if I saw it”, you said

“You had never seen a man naked?”, asked Alyssane, raising one of her perfect eyebrows

“No”, you said then, well… you sort of had, men, male slaves on sale on the streets, but you had refused to look long enough to draw a complete image in your mind. What you saw in a couple of seconds did not please you at all, rather… you disliked.. something so… small and wobbly. You shaked at the very memory of it.

“You had never seen any of your gladiators in such fashion?”, asked Jeyne, ready to tease and follow Alyssane’s lead.

“No I have not!”, you said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Aren’t you at least a bit curious?”, asked Jeyne

“Well, of course I am”, you defended

“You are to be married before the darkest of the winter months, you should at least know what you are up against”, Alyssane said simply, “and I would not deny the sight… of such a man”

“You are here just to gaze upon naked men?”, you said playfully, although, a bitter taste in your mouth, as you were feeling clearly used, and pressured.

“No, I am here to gaze upon naked gladiators”, Jeyne said then.

But another flavor joined the others, the need deep within you impress your friends, your friends from rich houses of the capital 

“Bring me the Northman”, you said to the guard that stood in the corner watching the whole reunion, he seemed terribly nervous, but nodded and left you. You shaked with the resolution in your command, and felt a pit in your stomach in anticipation.

You knew he was going to take a while, so you turned back at your friends and smiled nervously, and they seemed terribly motivated. 

“I must say”, began Jeyne, as she saw your face filled with trepidation, “that my tongue will not be kept from wagging about your hospitality to my father”, she wanted to make sure you knew there was going to be recompense for this, and good recompense. His father, as old as time, sat in the senate, she stood the daughter of a senator.

“Thank you Jeyne”, you said with a soft smile, you took a long gulp of your cup, to try and soothe your nerves. Alyssane did the same, but with a smirk on her lips, she said nothing as she studied your form. 

Finally, they both took sit position in their triclinium as you heard movement behind you. You looked back to see their trainer Roose Bolton, following closely behind the man himself. The wildling from the tribes of the North, whose name was Cregan Stark, although everyone called him… ‘The Northman’

He stood with thick shackles around both wrists. in front of him. He was wearing nothing but a clean subligaria, and his body was like one of a god, well defined and gleamed under the light of the torches, he had recently been cleaned. The sight made your mouth dry, so you took another long sip of the mulsum in your cup. He had thick brown hair that he used tied in the back of his head, and he had sharp eyes, cold as ice and the same colour. The features of his face were soft, declaring his young age, your own, perhaps. 

“Leave us”, you demanded, but the trainer Roose Bolton looked conflicted

“Domina, I don’t think…”

“I said leave us”, you said, about to lose your courage, your friends behind you giggled, weirdly giving you confidence to commit to your own command. With a grunt, the doctore nodded and left you, with only your friends, a couple of guards standing silently in the corners of the room behind veils, and him.

The Northman

He was deadly still, looking forwards, beyond you and your friends, beyond this room, his jaw was tense, you could tell that being here, summoned by you like this… for him was humiliating, but there he stood, tense like a bow. He said nothing, he didn’t move an inch.

“Is this what all northmen look like?”, Jeyne teased, “he is more beast than man”, you didn’t know if that was a real question, but your eyes never left his form, even if it wasn’t he didn’t answer.

“You can answer”, you encouraged 

“All northmen do not look like me”, he said finally, the dark tone in his voice made the three of you gasp. “some make me look like an Andal”, Jeyne and Alyssane giggled at the prospect of finding even gruffer men than him. 

“Oh he speaks the common tongue”, Alyssane was on fire, making you more uncomfortable. His eyes finally found yours, and you couldn’t take your own out of his. 

“Yes he does”, you whispered, he indeed had a beautiful set of eyes. You then looked down at his chest, there was a red line, his injury from the battle in the Arena, it was still fresh, but you could tell it was healing properly

“I think he is handsome”, mumbled Alyssane, taking foot to walk towards him, you feared his reaction, as the guard standing in the corner of the room clenched his hand around the pommel of his sword. 

But the gladiator still didn't move as Alysanne walked around him, teasing him with a single finger, touching his skin as she walked. His eyes were still on you. 

“He stands as Mars, ready for war”, she whispered

“Alyssane seems taken by the man”, teased Jeyne in your ear

It was a curious thing, this what you were feeling, like somebody wanted to take something that belonged to you, but again, he wasn’t a thing, and you didn’t own him. Not technically at least, your father did.

“Their day starts early tomorrow”, you mumbled, making Alysane stop and look back at you with a teasing smile on her face. “his training I mean”, you said then

“Of course”, she said, you signaled the poor shaking guard and he grabbed Cregan, and took him from your side. You could swear you saw lingering eyes from him to you, but you must have imagined it.

“You should… enjoy him while you can”, said Jeyne finally, once you found yourselves alone again

“What do you mean?”, you asked her, her and Alyssane shared complicit looks

“Well, obviously, before you take an old bat as a husband, you should enjoy one of his gladiators, like that Northman for example”

“No…”, you said quickly, “I couldn’t possibly do something like that”

“Why not?”, asked Alyssane

“He is a man trained as a gladiator!”, you said, “he is a bit dirty…”, you tried, not quite convinced 

“You have him bathed and oiled before you”, said Alyssane like it was no issue 

“What if he doesn't want to?”, you tried then

“He is a slave, under your command…”, said Jeyne, “...and a man”

“What if he decided to kill me instead?”, you said then, “wrap his hands around my neck”

“I will not shame you is that is to your pleasure”, giggled Alyssane

“Aly!”, you whined, “the point is I really couldn’t, I mean, he is big and thick… and wild looking”

“Delicious then”, she offered

“Dangerous…”, you continued, although you felt your cheeks heated. 

“Well if you don't have him, maybe I could!”, she teased

“What are you talking about?!”, you asked, scandalized, “when have you heard that proper Andal women lay with their gladiators?”

“Oh I’ve heard a ludus where such things happen quite frequently”, she teased

“Where?”, you asked

“In Alys Rivers’ ludus!”, your eyes opened wide in shock

“Really?”, you asked, “the bastard sister of the Lanista Larys Strong?”, you asked 

“They say she offers her gladiators in… other manners”, she said, winking at you, “perhaps we should find ourselves at her door?”, she asked Jeyne

“Perhaps we shall”, she said back. 

“Don’t be mean!”, you teased back, she laughed, as she was clearly jesting, you hoped.

“The hour is late”, said Jeyne with a soft smile, “I should start my journey back to my villa before my father starts a search party”, she said, raising from her chair

“Yes! me as well!”, said Alyssane, “I hope I can meet you tomorrow at the market?”, she asked you, you smiled and nodded profusely, as you accompanied them to the atrium, and therefore the door

As you watched them leave, nervousness started to take a hold on you, as did the warmth of the wine consumed to hide your embarrassment 

It was not common to find yourself alone in your villa, your father had allowed it because you were in company of friends -who had influential fathers-, but now there you stood, no brothers, or sisters in law, father or friends to loom over you.

Your lower belly burned with necessity, with something you have never felt before, a longing, your body burned with anticipation and excitement. You didn’t know if it was the mulsum you had drank, or the power you just discovered, all the whole thing combined.

“Bring the Northman up here”, you said to the first guard you saw, he nodded and went to comply with your command. Your body was tingly because of the alcohol and you were excited to say the least, you didn’t even care that you had already sent the poor man down mere minutes ago, tonight, you had the power.

You shakily served yourself some more wine, back in the safety of the triclinium, the room where you ate, met with friends and family, where you were most comfortable. The man was standing right in front of you in minutes, the guards nodded at you and then left you as they had done before.

The gladiator stood there, now he seemed more surprised than before, as he found you alone, and he also seemed to be showing more of his emotions on his face.

“Northman”, you called, he turned to you quickly, anger in his eyes

“That’s not my name!”, it took you by surprise, you couldn’t deny it, the anger in his eyes, the sharpness in his tone. 

“What is your name?”, it was of no consequence to you, his domina, and you should express so, that it did not matter anymore what his real name was, but, there you were, asking him nonetheless

“My parents named me Cregan”, he said, “of House Stark”, he said sharply, “as many leaders of my house before me”

There was so much more you wanted to ask, as his words truly shocked you, but as you gazed down the street you came to your senses, realizing that you should not allow such things. As your father tended to say, “who were you before this Ludus does not matter, the only thing in your mind should be sand, and the blood of your enemies”

“That is not what you are here for”, you finally find your voice, minimizing his anger at hand, turning his attention somewhere else.

“Remove your subligaria”, you whispered the command as if you did not wish it, and his sharp eyes were trained on you

“Look at you, a little domina in the making”, he teased, his tone much changed since he let you know of his true name. The very words made your cheeks heated, and you found yourself averting his gaze, his did not stray from your face as he released himself from the only item of clothing he was wearing. Your eyes followed the trail of his perfect skin, down his toned chest to his belly and…

The sight alone made you gasp. 

This looked nothing like the ones of the male slaves in the market, if anything, those were… flacid and small, that sight brought you disgust and uneasiness, this one however, made your mouth dry and your skin tingle with desire. Desire that was pooling in your lower belly.

“You can touch me”, he said, he was being amused at your expense, only making you even more nervous, “I will not bite… much”, your hand was placed on his belly, muscles showing in beautiful shapes, you couldn't believe something could be hard but soft at the same time.

As your hand lowered, you found thick dark hairs there, making you shudder 

“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen”, he whispered, so close to your face your hand stopped right before getting to his base and you looked up at him.

“I’m the daughter of your dominus”, you said, as you believed he was forced to praise you.

“Do you think that’s got something to do with what I just said?”, he asked. Your hand stopped right as the base of his cock, you shuddered, his manhood was terribly hot. 

You had never spoken to this man before today, you had barely glanced at him, and now, here he stood, under your command, looking at you with his sharp eyes, not missing a thing. 

“I’m sorry, this was a bad idea…”, you whined retrieving your hands like his skin burned you. Cregan grunted when your soft hands left his cock, and that only made you burn more heatedly

“And you are going to leave me hanging like this?”, he asked, amused, mocking you, but inside he was suffering, he was enjoying it too much, it has been so long without a woman’s touch, “you can’t do that!”

“My apologies”, you said quickly, leaving him there standing 

His doctore came to collect him, he retrieved his cloth from the ground, putting it in place

“A little tease that one”, he mumbled to the serious man

“Do not speak of domina in that way”, he growled as he pushed him 

“There is not much domina in her”, he chuckled

“That’s it, five lashes in the courtyard”, he said

“I’d think better of it doctore”, he said defiantly, taking advantage of the fact that only the two of them were present in the narrow passage that separated the villa from the training grounds of the Slaves, “the Vulcanalia is merely a fortnight away from now, and they have high hopes for me”

“Keep walking boy”, Roose Bolton threatened.

He led him downstairs and then through the big gate that separated the villa from the ludus, where the gladiators lived and trained. A guard locked it tight after they passed through it

“I advise you to keep what happened to yourself”, he said gloomly, Cregan looked back at his doctore, but nodded.

He was directed straight to a long open room, where the gladiators ate lunch and dinner. He directed himself to the cook, who gave him a clay pot with a white mush in it, just like the day before, and the night before that. 

“Here comes the whore!”, someone shouted at him, as his “brothers” started mocking him and winking at him.

It didn’t take much to guess what happened in the villa, there was only one reason you get called upon at such hours, and wearing so little

“Shut the hell up Ben”, he mumbled to his only friend he had in the Ludus, he haden’t say anything, but he was grinning at him like an idiot.

“Was it her?”, he asked him, “the daughter? the domina?”

“Yes”, he said, his friend pushed him playfully

“Did you fuck her?”, Cregan just looked at him angrily

“No”

“Was she not pleased with you then?”. he asked, frowning

“She is young, she doesn’t know what she wants”, he said simply, really not wanting to share what had happened upstairs.

It was humiliating, to say the least, to be treated like that. To be called upon to be gazed at by women who looked at him like a piece of meat, and then again to be touched.

Oh but he meant every word

You were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, since the first time he saw you, standing on that balcony, looking down at him. He did not blame you for your father, for the blood that ran through your veins, for the republic that created you. You had nothing to do with any of it.

Just by looking at you he could tell the kind soul that moved your body and warmed your heart

But you were the daughter of the man who purchased him, he wasn’t the one who enslaved him, but it was the man that had condemned him to the life of a gladiator. 

“Well, maybe you can change her mind”, he teased

The only reason he was playing along with the Andals was to see how to escape them, so far, it had been easy to stay alive, he had been trained since he could pick up a sword on how to hunt, how to fight, how to survive, the North was not a place for the weak

“Father?”, you called out loud, the servants all dropped their eyes as you passed them by looking for him, but you couldn’t find him in his study, so you were on your way to his room at the other side of the villa

“What’s this ruckus?”, he asked, looking at you with sharp eyes as he went to encounter you in the atrium

“My good friend Alyssane has summoned me to go to the market at noon”, you knew he wouldn’t refuse you, not if Alyssane was involved, so he just sighed and motioned for you to follow him. You went back to his study, passing all the statues decorating the atrium. A normal Andal family would display in honor effigies of their most prominent family members, but yours displayed the most prominent gladiators and fighters that had come from this ludus.

“Here”, he passed you a small punch filled with gold coins

“Thank you father”, you said, offering a complacent smile

“Take one of my men with you”, he said then, “one of the gladiators”

“I hardly think that’s necessary, a servant and a guard would do just fine”, you said quickly, always as you were in the market you wanted to pass by as inconspicuous as you could. 

“I insist, after the games, and before the Vulcanalia, I want the people to see them, to get excited, take the Northman”, you hid your face before your father could see the embarrassment in it. 

One of the guards of the villa went to fulfill his request, and you sighed in exasperation. 

You came back to your rooms to get ready to go out, and once you were, you returned to the entrance of the house, where Cregan himself was waiting for you with a severe look on his face, this was not to his liking, he was standing right by a guard, and by Roose Bolton. 

The sight alone made you tremble

Had he told anybody what happened the day before? that you had touched him and presumed to have him?

Once his eyes found yours, he smirked. 

“If something befalls the daughter of your dominus, fate worse than death awaits you boy”, he said in his ear

“Rest assured, that I will look after her with my life”, he said with a silly little smile.

You took a long sigh, and nodded to the guards and started walking out of the villa.

The villa stood on top of a hill, you had a pretty nice view upon the city of King’s Landing, but the rest of it wasn't quite impressive, the road was made of dirt and the houses around it were less impressive than the one your father had inherited from his father. It had been in your family since the very creation of the city.

You led a small comitive, all on foot, as you bluntly refused to be carried in a cot. You, your faithful slave Anya, Cregan himself, being flanked by two guards.

The center of the city started right at the foot of the hill, so it was a short minute walk.

You reach a street made of cobblestone, one adjacent to the one that led to the main street, as it was time before you had to meet Alyssane, you started to look the small stores

“Did your father hear of the way you handled me last night?”, Cregan whispered as Anya was tending elsewhere, you look back sharply at the Northman.

“No, and he shall not!”, you said sharply

“Oh well, I guess if he had, he’d have me castrated”, he whispered for your ears only, “and I guess you don’t want that as it seems you like what you saw”, he teased

“Stop it”, you said back. Your father was a practical man, and if he had heard of what occurred last night, you would be the one at fault, as everyone involved was just following your command. “My father will never know of this”, you sentenced 

“You wanted to lay with me? A gladiator? a slave?”, he asked then

“I was mistaken”, you said, trying to gaze upon what a man was cooking on his store towards the street, it smelled delicious 

“You are mistaken”, you heard him claim, his thick accent made your thighs, “for seeking bedding before connecting, to seek sex, instead of love, to want lust before you even began to feel the fondness”, he said sincerely.

“Thinking love is something within the grasp of someone in my position is foolish, and I learned not to be blinded and distracted by foolish things”, you whispered sadly. You nodded at the man and exchanged a couple of aerus for a plate of lamb soup. “I’ll be married before the year is over”, you whispered. 

[dissapointu]

How to Rile Up the Characters of Arcane

(anger wise perverts)

These headcanons explore what irks, flusters, or provokes each character in a way that makes their reactions as entertaining as they are educational for anyone seeking to test their limits. Use at your own risk!

Jinx

1. Messing with her inventions

• Jinx is incredibly protective of her gadgets and explosives. Poking around her workspace or suggesting her designs could be improved will get you an immediate, fiery reaction.

• “Improved?! They’re perfect, you total nimrod!”

2. Stealing attention

• Jinx craves recognition, especially from figures she admires (like Silco or her friends). Ignoring her or praising someone else more can push her into an erratic, over-the-top display to reclaim the spotlight.

3. Underestimating her

• Comments like “Are you sure you can handle this?” or “Maybe you should sit this one out” will ignite her fury and determination to prove you wrong—usually in the loudest way possible.

Vi

1. Mocking her strength

• Vi prides herself on her physical prowess. Any teasing about losing an arm-wrestling match or struggling with a task will have her insisting on proving you wrong immediately.

• “Alright, tough guy. Let’s see if you can back that up.”

2. Disrespecting Powder/Jinx

• Bringing up Jinx in a negative light or blaming Vi for what happened between them is a surefire way to strike a nerve. Her guilt and protectiveness will flare up in equal measure.

3. Challenging her leadership

• Vi naturally takes charge, so questioning her decisions or suggesting someone else lead will have her bristling. “You think you can do it better? Be my guest.”

Sevika

1. Criticizing her loyalty to Silco

• She’s fiercely loyal, and any remarks suggesting she’s blindly following orders or dependent on Silco’s authority will make her defensive—possibly in an intimidating way.

• “I’d watch what you say next if I were you.”

2. Messing with her arm

• Joking about her mechanical arm or tampering with it is a fast way to get her glaring at you—or worse.

• “Touch it again, and you’ll see how well it works up close.”

3. Calling her soft

• Sevika has a tough exterior, and any insinuation that she might have a soft side will annoy her. Push too far, and she’ll feel compelled to prove just how “not soft” she is.

Silco

1. Interrupting his plans

• Silco is meticulous and hates disruptions. Questioning his methods or derailing his carefully laid schemes will earn you a cold, cutting remark—or a deadly glare.

• “Do you think you could do better, or is this just idle foolishness?”

2. Challenging his authority

• Silco thrives on control, and anyone who undermines or questions his leadership will quickly find themselves on his bad side.

• “I’d advise against testing me further.”

3. Mentioning Vander

• Bringing up Vander’s betrayal or suggesting Silco is living in his shadow will strike a deeply personal nerve, though he’ll hide his emotions behind his chilling composure.

Vander

1. Endangering his family

• Vander’s protective instincts are unmatched. Any threat—real or perceived—to his children or those he considers family will have him stepping into action.

• “If you so much as look at them the wrong way, you’ll regret it.”

2. Mentioning his past violence

• Vander is deeply remorseful about his history as the “Hound of the Underground.” Reminders of his brutal past will make him uncharacteristically curt or defensive.

• “I’m not that person anymore. Let it go.”

3. Disrespecting Zaun

• Vander’s love for Zaun runs deep. Insulting his city or its people will get him fired up—and ready to defend it, fists clenched.

Ekko

1. Treating him like a kid

• Ekko is mature beyond his years, and any patronizing behavior or comments like “You wouldn’t understand” will annoy him to no end.

• “Say that again, and I’ll show you who doesn’t understand.”

2. Messing with the Firelights

• The Firelights are Ekko’s pride and joy. Damaging their hideout, criticizing their mission, or mocking their cause will ignite his protective side.

3. Being overly pessimistic

• Ekko is an optimist, and negativity frustrates him. If you’re constantly dismissive of change or improvement, he’ll passionately argue with you about why hope matters.

Jayce

1. Insulting his intelligence

• Jayce is proud of his work as a scientist and inventor. Any comment suggesting his ideas are impractical or undeserving of recognition will hit him hard.

• “Let me remind you who brought Hextech to Piltover.”

2. Calling him a sellout

• He walks a fine line between invention and politics. Accusations that he’s abandoned his ideals or sold out for power will immediately put him on the defensive.

• “I’m doing what’s best for Piltover. You don’t understand the pressure I’m under.”

3. Undermining his authority

• Jayce takes his leadership role seriously. Any hint that he’s unqualified or incapable of handling the responsibility will make him overly defensive.

Viktor

1. Interrupting his work

• Viktor is hyper-focused on his research, and distractions—whether they’re intentional or accidental—irritate him.

• “Could you not see that I was in the middle of something important?”

2. Dismissing his ideas

• Viktor has faced constant dismissal throughout his life, so belittling his contributions or questioning his vision will strike a nerve.

• “You lack the foresight to understand, clearly.”

3. Criticizing his background

• Insulting Viktor’s roots in Zaun or using it as a way to undermine his accomplishments will get under his skin, though he’ll respond with cold indifference to hide the sting.

Caitlyn

1. Disrespecting her position

• Caitlyn is deeply committed to her role as a law enforcer. Suggesting she doesn’t deserve her rank or that she got there through privilege will earn a sharp rebuttal.

• “I worked harder than you’ll ever know to get here.”

2. Mocking her by-the-book nature

• Caitlyn’s dedication to justice and procedure is central to her identity. Teasing her for being “too rigid” or overly disciplined will irk her, even if she tries to laugh it off.

• “Someone has to uphold the rules around here.”

3. Bringing up her family’s wealth

• Caitlyn is sensitive about her affluent upbringing and works hard to prove she’s more than just her family name. Dismissing her as “just another rich kid” will immediately put her on edge.

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Then it would only be second to death.....

Hozier x fem!reader

Author's note: this shouldn't have taken me a month.

Masterlist

Summary: Following their chance run-in at the farmers market, Andrew shows up at Y/n's house. Part 2 of What if this is the last time I see you?

Warnings: Angst

“I’m right here,” he threads his fingers through his hair, “right here. We’re getting married, it doesn’t get any more present than that.”

Y/n scoffs, turning away from him, and Andrew knows that it’s because he’s brought her to tears – she hates when people see her crying. He hates making her cry. “Is that why we’re getting married?” Her voice breaks and she quickly swipes at her cheek, “so you can prove to yourself that you want to be here?”

“I want to be here,” when he takes a step towards her, Y/n takes one backwards and shifts her shoulder. He winces at the gesture, as if she’s actually pushed him away – though he supposes that in a way, she has. “I’m here –”

“You keep saying that but you’re not!” When she finally looks at him, her eyes are wide and glassy. He’s trying to think of the last time he heard her yell, but he quickly realizes that such a memory doesn’t exist. “You're at the studio, you’re in L.A….you’re on tour –”

“I'm working,” he grits.

“So am I. But I don’t forget that you exist when I do.” He’s irrationally offended by her comment; Andrew has never forgotten that she exists, he’s just been…..compartmentalizing. When he’s at work, he’ll work – when he’s with her, they’ll be together.

But when was the last time they’ve been together? When was the last time he’s taken her out or just sat down with her on the couch with her? Gone to bed the same time she has?

He can’t immediately remember – it must’ve been months ago.

But she should understand; that's what being with him means sometimes. It's not some well-kept secret, Y/n knows him – and he's the same person he was when they first met.

So he says that.

“You have always known who I am,” the minute the pointed words leave his mouth, Andrew regrets them and the only thing he wants more than to pluck them out of the tension-riddled air and shove back into his mouth. The look on her face is one he’s never seen her wear before, and it might be because she’s never been hurt that badly before.

The tears in her eyes. The quiver in her lips. The visible tightness in her throat. The way her cheeks suddenly seem hollow and it looks like she’s holding her breath.

“Right,” the word is broken up by a strain in her throat, “you’re right. You have much more important things going on. It was silly of me to assume that for once you’d put us first –”

“No,” he reaches out, but Y/n pulls away and grimaces, as if the thought of his touch is physically painful, “honey, that’s not what I meant,” he swears, breath is escaping him and he’s struggling to come up with the words that will fix things, “you’re misunderstanding –”

Again, Y/n brushes her face with the back of her hands, “no, I think, for the first time, I understand you perfectly,” he protests when she starts taking her ring off, but Y/n doesn’t seem to hear it – or particularly care. “I’ll come back for my things,” she says, slipping the little, emerald cut, Welsh gold ring into the breast pocket of his camel-coloured coat.

“Please don’t go,” he rasps, loosely gripping her shoulders, “please.”

“I just need to get away for a while,” Y/n offers softly, standing on her toes and holding onto her shoulder as she reaches to kiss him. He bends his head mechanically to allow her lips to meet his cheek. When she pulls away, it feels like he’s suffocating and while Andrew knows that going after her as she heads for the door has the potential to make all the difference, he can’t get his legs to move. The air is thin, his head is swimming and his legs feel like they're made of cement. So he does nothing but regret everything.

There’s so much he’d do differently, but Andrew thinks the thing that he’d change first is that moment when Y/n told him that it felt like there was an immeasurable distance between them. It was following a forgotten appointment with a wedding planner he’d meant to hire as part of an early wedding present but had neglected to, he hadn’t even realized he’d forgotten until he got home and found her on the sofa, coat and keys discarded on the coffee table and eyes red-rimmed. Andrew can’t quite remember what had made him forget, but in the moment it had seemed more important than their wedding – except now he’s forgotten all about it but the memory of her telling him that she’s lonely in their relationship, and that he feels light-years beyond reach is still fresh in his mind.

Unbridgeable – that was the exact word she’d used.

“I can’t get to you,” she says, the hazy blue film of such a bruising memory shrouds the glassiness of her eyes but barely hides the thick emotion in her throat, “I keep trying, hoping you'll let me get close. I want to be with you, be there for you but most of the time I can’t tell what you’re thinking — I'm not sure if you even want me around. Whatever’s between us its……unbridgeable.”

Unbridgeable.

It makes him think of oceans and gaping canyons. That unmeasurable distance between the deepest point of the sea and the barest end of space. Unreachable – was he really that bad?

So far away that for every time they kissed, Y/n felt like she was locking lips with a memory she never made?

It doesn’t matter though, because to her, it certainly felt that way.

Andrew is sitting in the driver's seat, glazed over eyes staring at the way rain beats down on his windshield. He’s been parked outside her house for longer than anything that would constitute a normal amount of time – though, he doesn’t exactly know where the threshold between normal and creepy ex-boyfriend is.

Well, ex-fiance. Though, he isn’t sure if semantics matter.

The gentle buzz of the engine is the only thing joining the swoosh of the near violent downpour. They haven’t experienced rain like that in a while; swollen droplets pouring from the milk sky in a slanted fashion. So intense that even the tallest trees seem to be weighed down by the weight of it, branches adopting a downward curve and leaves hanging despondently.

And still, it isn't the prospect of getting drenched on the brief walk to her front door that stops him from getting out of the car. It's the fear that he’s making a bigger mistake than he did five years ago that rivets him to the driver's seat, fingers still curved around the bottom of the wheel, the tips of his toes tapping the gas pedal as the car lingers in park.

She’s been more of a constant on his mind since that meeting at the farmers market a week ago, than she has been in the past few years. Still, Andrew wasn’t going to drive to her place that night, but somewhere between his first and second beer of the night, with a record that she gifted him playing as he tried to read – but couldn’t – it dawned on him; what if she was it?

Andrew hardly believes in true love or anything of the sort, but he does believe that every once in a while the stars align so perfectly that constellations are more visible and more beautiful than they’ve ever been, and you meet someone whose life changes the trajectory of yours forever. You're meant to be intertwined, like roots twisting and tangling around each other in that graceful, effortless way.

What if she's all of that to him, and much, much more, but he never sees her again? Because that was the last time; it must be some kind of death – to never feel her eyes on him again, to only ever hear her voice in his memory for the rest of his life, like a phantom haunting his mind. To never again feel the way it does when her arms go around him and she presses her body to his, and suddenly they’re nothing more than two puzzle pieces, made with each other in mind.

That little epiphany came over Andrew in a rush, knocking the air from his chest and making him feel as if he’d just been tackled by a wave and smashed face first into freezing cold water. In his chest, he felt a sort of panic that he could only associate with drowning rise up, threatening to spill out of his throat. He didn’t think he could live like that.

He still doesn't think that a life that she is gone from is survivable.

But as he parked along the curb near her driveway, one fear gives way to another;

What if Y/n doesn’t feel the same way at all? What if she doesn’t regret their untimely demise as much as he does? What if the best love he’s ever gotten nothing but a figment of the past? Lost forever, so far behind him that its entirely out of reach.

What if he does get out of his car, beats against the angle of the rain and trudges to her front door, only for her to tell him that she doesn’t want them anymore?

That she’d actually heard when he said he’d missed her, but pretended not to so she wouldn’t have to deal with the messiness of his feelings.

That might be the only thing worse than never seeing her again. And that is why he’s still in the car.

But he won’t know unless he tries, right? It isn’t the reasoning with the most integrity, but its the only thing keeping him there – he just wishes it was enough to get him out of the damn car.

Andrew is staring at a window, a window that he knows with absolute certainty looks into the living room, when he notices the thin, sheer curtain shift slightly. The movement doesn’t last long enough for him to determine who the person behind the window is, but when the front door swings open a handful of seconds later and Y/n steps into the middle of the doorway, Andrew spares himself from thinking too hard on the matter.

She’s holding her cardigan closed at the front, and it falls to the middle of her thighs, effectively hiding the shorts he knows she’s wearing underneath. By the silvery glow of the rainy evening and the sickening yellow hue of the bulb mounted over the porch, Andrew can see her form on the threshold, frozen, like something plucked out of his memories.

He can see her again, one leg crossed over the other as she leans on the doorframe as she watches him playing the piano;

“That sounds nice, its new?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, lifting his fingers off the keys and turning to look at her, “like it?”

Y/n hums, pushing off the frame and sauntering over to him, feet bare and dressed in nothing but the crewneck he’d been wearing the evening before. When her fingers, delicate and gentle, clasp his broad shoulders, Andrew leans into her touch, allowing her to eventually slink them forward. “I love it, its so beautiful,” with her fingers splayed on his chest, Y/n bends so her chin sits on his shoulder, “would you teach me how to play it?”

He chuckles. In all the years they’ve known each other, Y/n has never been interested in learning to play an instrument – she always jokes about being tone deaf. “You sure?”

“Positive,” her lips on his cheek are quick, he almost misses the sensation before fully registering it and if it weren't for the resolve in her eyes, Andrew would pull her in for another, longer kiss.

“Alright,” he reaches for her hand, encouraging her to slip it off his shoulder before guiding her around the small, varnished, oak bench. Y/n goes to sit beside him, but Andrew’s hand on her hip, sneaked under the hem of the thick jumper, urges her onto his lap. “This is better,” he rasps, breath tickling her jaw as he presses his cheek to hers, the bristle of his beard on her skin making her giggle.

“This is how you’d teach somebody?” She laughs, and the sound, coupled with the way she leans against him, makes his chest feel full.

“This is how I’d teach you, sweetheart.” When Y/n angles her head to catch a glimpse of him, he can see the warmth in her cheeks, and takes the opportunity to steal a peck off her lips, “now, pay attention.”

Her hands are much smaller than his, making it easy for him to completely cover them with his long fingers. “I’m gonna show you,” he breathes, “and then you’ll try on your own.” Slowly, he guides her through a single line of the melody he’d been working on. “Do you understand?” He props his chin on her shoulder, leaning his head against hers. He loves having Y/n this close, he isn’t sure if he’s ever told her but there’s something about the weight of her on top of him that stirs a sensation that he’s never felt anywhere else. Maybe its peace or comfort or safety – maybe its some combination of all three, wrapped into one magical thing.

“No,” Y/n returns, tone flat, albeit just as hushed as his.

Andrew barks a chuckle that turns out louder than he expected it to be. “You’re not paying attention,” he reprimands gently.

“I’m trying,” Y/n defends, voice pitched, “but my teacher is…….distractingly close.”

“Don’t blame this on me,” he scoffs, wrapping his arms around her middle, squeezing her to him. Her shoulders shake in a fit of laughter as he peppers her neck in a series of ticklish kisses as he loses himself in the way the cologne still clinging to his jumper mingles with the remnants of lavender left behind by her body wash.

“I’m not gonna learn to play this, am I?” Y/n shifts when he pulls away for a brief moment. Her head is tilted a little, mouth barely a hair away from his and the barest tips of their noses are touching.

Lifting one of his hands to thread his fingers threaded through her hair, Andrew eagerly closes the sliver of distance, “not today you’re not.”

A crack of thunder jolts Andrew out of the memory and in an instant, he’s back in the confines of his car, gaze fixed on Y/n as she lingers in the doorway. He needs to get out of that damn car – that prison that's kept him from her long before she pointed it out.

On impulse, he hastily shuts the engine off, and pushes the door open. Within a minute of getting out and shutting the door, Andrew’s coat and the sweater he’s wearing under it is soaked through and his hair is matted to the sides of his face. His shoes hit the gently sloped driveway with a wet, squishing sound with each step as he trudges towards the front door.

“Andrew, what the fuck?" Y/n breathes when he stops at the bottom of the porch steps.

He shrugs, stuffing his hands into his pockets. The rain is still pounding against his back and head, but he doesn’t dare take another step forward. “I had to see you,” he explains simply. Roughly, he brushes some wet hair away from his brow, “I just-I can't…..I can’t live like that –”

“Andy –”

“No,” he cuts her off desperately, “I know you don’t want me here,” he licks his lips, “but you need to hear this – I need you to hear this,” he pauses, but not near long enough for her to get a word in. “I just….I was thinking….what if that was the last time we saw each other? Could you live like that? Cause I couldn’t. Not without looking for you everywhere I go; every bookstore, at the grocery, every street. At the fucking farmer’s market,” where he’ll linger at every vendor selling strawberries on the off chance of running into her. “Just everywhere,” in every reflection when he pauses to look at a storefront and on planes that take him to places she wouldn’t go without plausible reason, “But I’d never find you because that was the last time.” Swallowing thickly, he ducks his head and wet tendrils fall over his face, disrupting his view of their feet, his clad in water-logged converse, and hers bare with blue, painted nails. “I know you said that I’m good on my own, and I guess I used to be,” Andrew slumps his shoulders, “but I’m not anymore. And I’ll never be again –”

“Andy –”

“Please,” finally, he comes up the trio of steps that leads to her small, covered porch. “I’m different now.”

Y/n slumps her shoulders, tilting her head slightly to the side as she blinks away tears, “I was just gonna tell you to come inside,” she says softly when he stops, “you’re gonna catch a cold or something,” there’s a crack in her voice and Y/n scoffs when a lone tear creeps down her cheek. She doesn’t even want to think of him getting sick on her account, especially when he’ll probably be all alone and miserable. She thinks about that sometimes – who’s taking care of him when he forgets to take care of himself?

With the back of her sleeve, Y/n brushes at her cheek before reaching for one of his hands. “I never wanted you to be….different. I wanted…..I wanted you to be who you are….but right next to me,” her thumb grazes his knuckles and Andrew revels in a miniscule shred of contact. It's nothing compared to having her in his lap or her arms around his shoulders, but it's more than he’s had in a damn long time and he’s never been more grateful for anything else.

“I can do that now,” Andrew promises earnestly.

Sighing heavily, she glances away, “but I don’t know that. I won’t live like that again,” so haunted by something she almost has, but never truly will. The ‘almost’ that he became. Almost close enough to let her in, almost ready to let his guard down, almost her husband.

“You won't have to,” Andrew gives her hand a promising squeeze, “I swear. I swear to you, it’ll be different –”

“But I don’t –”

“I can’t live like this,” he urges, “I can’t….” Andrew shakes his urgently, “do you still love me?”

Y/n’s slumps her shoulders, “of course I do.” How could she not? After pouring so many years into their relationship, after years aching to break the wall he kept between them. After spending every minute since the one she took the ring off – the one that makes her hand feel like it's missing something even now – thinking about what they could have been. Really, dare he ask her that?

“Then how could you never want to see me again?” He asks desperately.

A sharp inhale is her initial response, and Y/n thinks back on those first moments after Andrew had approached her the week before – the relief she felt in seeing him, the way that when they hugged, it felt like something was finally going right in her life. There’s so much she’d kept to herself that day, mostly because she was so sure that he was over her and couldn’t possibly still be thinking of them, not the way she does. Everyday when she steeps tea that she doesn’t really like, or goes out into her garden but can’t think straight, because it was something they'd done together.

Its why she let the strawberry bushes die, and weeds overtake the flowers along the back fence before clearing them out.

“I could never want that,” Y/n finally manages, voice soft and fragile, “I think about you all the time.” The strawberries have been rotting in her fridge because she can barely stand to look at them without recalling what it felt like to slip that ring into his pocket.

The warmth the metal had soaked up from being on her finger, the crack in his voice when he said, “honey, please.”

“Then come back,” he rasps, letting go of her hand in favor of taking a gentle hold on her hips.

Y/n’s find his chest, fistfuls of his wet hoodie bunching up in her fingers, the fabric heavy and cold. “Don’t hurt me again,” she pleads softly, inching closer.

Andrew lifts one of his hands from her hip to cup her cheek, his long fingers dwarfing the side of her face, “I wouldn’t.” He roves his thumb over the apple of her cheek, and his breathing settles a little. He hadn't realized just how on-edge he’d felt since she left until right now, when he’s touching her again and it feels like the first inkling of peace he’s had in five years. “I don’t want us to be strangers,” Andrew adds.

“Just let me in then,” Y/n encourages in the same, hushed tone.

Swallowing thickly, he nods, “I will. I want to,” lowering his head, Andrew presses his forehead to hers. “You’re the only person I want this close – for my whole life, I just want it to be you.”

When their lips meet, he feels her shudder just as a shiver runs up his back. It isn't from the cold, or the uncomfortable way in which the fabric is sticking to his skin. It's from the realization that there's never been a homecoming quite like this one. There isn't anything that compares to this; it's like having some lost part of himself snap back into its rightful place.

“Please,” he rasps against the plush softness of her lips, “please let it be you.”

Whatever little resolve she's managed to build up over the years, the scraps that kept her from seeking him out after she walked out, has been entirely ebbed away. Staying away is easier when he isn't at her doorstep, offering her exactly what she's wanted for so long. “Always,” with one hand flattened against the center of his chest, she reaches up to brush away some wet hair matted to his damp brow. “It’ll always be me,” she promises earnestly;

No one can love him the way she does anyway, its a fact that Y/n is entirely certain of.

When she presses her lips to his again, the rain is still coming down around them, though while the sound has been suffocating, Andrew finds that its fading now – all the noises that seem to make the world a little unbearable is so much quieter, and he thinks it might be the universe’s way of telling him that this is the way things are meant to be.

******

Tagging: @tungledotfuck

[universalzones]

"I can't say we don't have any options. After all, I'm sure even GUN wouldn't wish to make an enemy of me or the Sol Empire. It may not be much of an advantage given I'm in their world, though it's at least something to push back with." Blaze was never one to use her status for threats or warnings, and today was the first time she's done it so much. Though the feline wouldn't sit by and let her friends be pushed around or threatened.

"Not to mention the fact they never even attempted to reach out to anyone about the fact Clutch is a criminal, or how they also knew Mimic was here in the base. I'm can only guess you guys had Mimic as a high priority of catching, so they should've known too. Easy to send a message if they have a spy in. Gives off the impression they set you guys up to fail. I only wish I had more solid proof on the rumors about the commander." Rowan was sure having solid intel on that guy would make them clear out in an instant.

"We also got Mimic in the Shadow Void to turn over. Can't say I trust GUN with someone like Mimic, if only because I wouldn't put it past them to put him to work, though it's something." Rowan wanted to just throw him in a hole and leave it at that, though he'd never hear the end of it from Tangle.

"If Surge is staying then so am I. They can try to take me, though they'll regret it in the end. All it takes is four to six minutes for someone to drown, and I can speed that up much faster with how smart I am." Kitsunami wasn't going to let anyone take Surge, or let anyone take him away from Surge. If GUN wanted to see how dangerous the fennec was then that was the fastest way to do it.

"It's okay Kitsunami. I doubt they'll try anything that'll tick you and Surge off." Belle wasn't surprised Kitsunami would go through such lengths, though gears and starters she didn't need to see him start racking up a body count of GUN soldiers. The tinkerer herself was thinking about what she should do. Tails and Lanolin had a point, yet so did Vector. Not to mention she was sure they'd only be interested in dismantling her. She was sure they could consider her as safe eggtech to copy.

"I won't go with GUN because I don't trust them. And if they want to take me just because of who my creator is then I'd be more than happy to bring up how they let Omega work for them." Belle knew Eggman created Omega, though as far as she knew they never tried to punish or arrest him. Hopefully that'd be of help to get them to leave her alone.

"So, we got Blaze backing us up, the fact they withheld the fact Clutch was a criminal, also not telling use Mimic was here, my unconfirmed dirt on the commander, and the fact they let Omega work for them. I guess we could also count them coming off as overly hostile." Rowan found all this excessive, at least without any warning.

"Is this a bad time to mention I also stole Clean Sweep's money? Maybe we should had that over, since I'm sure a lot of it must have been earned illegally." Belle could easily find out what was Restoration donations and what was Clean Sweep profit.

Lanolin watched Sonic, Belle and Kit enter, with Sonic leaning against a wall, and Kit finding a place to sit. She rubbed the back of her neck looking to Blaze with unsure eyes. It stood to reason that GUN had its network of spies. Two people knew all about Belle outside of the people who worked here. It was easy to assume Rouge and Shadow had given all kinds of reports to GUN though she liked to believe Rouge wouldn't have given those kinds of details.

" It could have been anyone, Both shadow and rouge work for GUN and had full access to this information. But even if we say they wouldn't do that--- plenty of volunteers come and go through the workshop. Any one of them could have overheard her, or us talk about it. Or they could have gained information from the eggnet itself... how isn't important right now. The fact is they know and she's on there radar... honestly this was bound to happen eventually. I think we all knew that... "

Sonic looked at Belle flexing his hands with that anger flashing across his face again. He wasn't gonna let anyone get to Belle, and he'd die before he let them take her. But Belle was right running from GUN was probably the last thing she wanted. This was a mess and worse, it wasn't the kind of mess he could punch away. Eggman was easy to deal with but GUN? Politics sucked! But his eyes went to Kitsunami and he couldn't help but worry how he'd react to Surge's plans, damn how was he gonna do this? His eyes shifted to Rowan as he came back and he smiled!

" Hah! well ring tail! you are doing better then most! you wouldn't believe how many can't hold it down! so kudos to you! "

His thoughts broke as Miles finally made his way up stairs, and Sonic and he shared a fist Bump. At least his mood seemed 10 shades brighter as if the fox mellowed him out. His eyes turned to Lanolin as she got everyones attention now that Miles was there.

" Alright... guess that is everyone but Surge--- Here is the situation! The United Federation of Nations president has personally spoke with me. He's made his stance clear... he sees Restoration as a rogue element... it was fine at first they even commended our work. But taking in Surge, Kitsunami, and Belle seemed to set of red flags. Clutch's deception only cemented there stance... "

" The President ants to shut us down until a full investigation can be performed. It's likely he intends to arrest Surge, and Kitsunami... i can't say what his intent with Belle is yet. The point is... if we fight back we become enemies of the the free world... enemies of gun and we prove them right! I don't trust them either... i doubt Amy would... I think we have to play there game... I don't see another way out of this that doesn't get people killed and our donations cut for good... "

She sighed and rubbed her own cheek looking at Belle and Kit specifically.

" Belle, Kitsunami and Surge i get it if you want to cut and run... i won't stop you. But this ... this is the only choice we have to keep our work going... no matter what i feel about you both, and i've come to see you as friends. I have to look out for the well being of the organization... our work is to important... i hope you understand..."

Sonic let out a deep breath through his nose, he somehow ventured this was the outcome. He hated every word Lanolin said! She was just gonna give up like that? and what let them come in and shut it all down! or worse take control? this was bullshit!

" Oh come on Lanolin you can't be serious! Those guys will make up what ever story they want! just let surge and i kick there butts! and send them packing! "

" No Sonic, she's right... Restoration relies heavily on donations and volunteers. If the United Federation of Nations declares us an enemy of the state or terrorists. We'd lose all funding, and worse people would be to afraid to help out. If we fight we lose, if they come in we still lose but at least there is a chance to fight it in court, or argue our side of things... logically speaking its a risky move but... if we fight we defiantly lose..."

Miles looked over at Belle with a sad look

" It might also be a chance for Belle to finally argue her case to the people and be accepted as a citizen... but, they could also dismantle her or lump her in with eggman. This is a big risk for all parties... especially surge, Kitsunami and belle... they have a tough choice to make..."

" Well, we chaotix have always remained free lance--- but ifin' they do come in and investigate. We can do our own investigation... least have our own evidence to use against them... but as someone who grew up in the hood--- If they gots the right judge you ain't ever gonna win that case... you all sure you wanna go down that road? "

" I know this is bad but ... unless anyone has better plan... i'm out of options... and the clock is ticking. I don't want anyone hurt... we all came together to fight eggman, not the goverment. I just--- i'm open to ideas... its why i called you here... "

[anjautembear]

Helloo. So this is my first post and I had this idea in my head after I listend to a song. English isn't my first language so sorry if there are spelling errors or sentences that don't make a lot of sence😅. I hope to the readers that read this like this as much as I do and sorry again if it doesn't make sence >_<. OKAY on to the story!!

Warning: Angst baby

Inspired by the song: All i want by kodaline

All i want is nothing more

To hear you knocking at my door

He watches the door, hoping that she would walk threw it, greating him with that loving smile she always had, that still haunts him. He still hopes after weeks, but deep down he knows.

'Cause if I could see your face once more

I could die as a happy man I'm sure

He misses her, her face is starting to blur in his memory of her, but he wishes to go back. He wishes that he took her face in detail, if he only knew, that she would no longer be here, he would have printed her loving gaze in his mind.

When you said your last goodbye

The day of her death, is the day he wishes that never happend, the day that cancer took her from him, a sickness he so hates, a day that will haunt him forever.

The sound of a heartmonitor beeping in the background, the doctors and nurces shoes squeking on the floor outside, people talking, the sound of the wind blowing outside, the autum air blowing threw the curtains. Her favourite season.

But all those noises are blurred, for his soulfocus, was her, his beloved, his wife. He remembers holding her hand so tight for he feared she would pass to soon, slip from his fingers. His hold is tight but not too tight, for he didn't want to brake her. She was already thin and fragile. He still hates that feeling of her thin hand holding his and not the once healthy hand. Cancer was a true nightmare.

Her last words, the words that haunt him still, her fairwell greating, was a request. She requested that he should move on, marry another, find a new person that would treat him well. That she still and would love him. She hates that she is dying but does not want her beloved to suffer when she's gone. Her last and final words,

"You were a wonderful experience, I loved every minute with you. You were the reason for my every smile...I think...I'm ready to go home..with a smile and the memorys of us. Please look after youself...please."

I died a little bit inside

As his tears fall after she said those words, her final breath was taken, and she was gone. Like the autum leaves she so loved, her soul being carried away, back home. Her final smile with one tear falling, will always haunt him. His tears mimicking hers, but a waterfall. His heart stoped beating that day, like hers, for his heart shatter after she ripped the bandage clean.

I lay in tears in bed all night

As he lays in his ice cold bed, that no longer has her sent and warmf. He stares at the picture of their wedding day next to his bed. He still hasn't taken it off. His lifeless eyes staring at her bright smile, her wedding dress blowing in the spring wind. Memorys of her laughter, a sickening reminder, of his regrets of not marrying her sooner.

Alone without you by my side

He can no longer sleep, he can't, he tried multible times. But he can't sleep without her warm body next to his. So he holds her pillow, that no longer has her sent, the perfume bottle she once used ,empty after he used it to remind him of her.

But if you loved me

Why'd you leave me?

He doesn't know who to blame, himself, for not meating her sooner, cancer, a sickness that took her, or her, who left him a broken mess. A broken man who can't fix himself without her.

Take my body

Take my body..

All I want is

All I need is..

He felt like he should have been the one who left, he should be the one burried 6 feet under ground, he should be the one cold in the coffen, instead of his beloved, who didn't deserve it.

She was a bright light in a room full of dull lamps, he only saw her in a room full of people. But now she's a light no longer there, he is lost in the dark room. She is now no longer in the room full of people, he is surching, but she's already in the train of no return.

He needs her...but he no longer has her to save him

To find somebody

I'll find somebody

He tells himself he'll find another light, another person in the crowd, but deep down he knows that will never happen. She was the only 'somebody' he loved. But he'll try for her, he promised.

Ooh oh

Ooh oh

Ooh oh

Ooh oh

Memorys flash his mind. The day they met, bumping into eachother, on a cold autum day. He remembers how pretty she looked, how her hair framed her face, her flushed cheeks in the cold air. Her smile. Her smile he so loved.

Memorys flash in his mind. The day he preposed, the ring that gleamed in the setting sun. Her tears of joy rolling down her soft warm cheeks he so loved to kiss in the morning. Her eyes gleaming, resembling the ring, the ring he will no longer use.

Memorys flash in his mind. The day of their wedding. Tears of joy and laughter in the air of close friends, but the only laugh he heard, was hers, his wife, his other soul.

Memorys flash now...regret coming back. The day of her funeral. The rain pooring down, her coffen laying there, her favourite flower ontop. Haunting him. Mocking him, mocking him that he will no longer be able to give those same flowers to her on valentimes-day.

Cause you brought out the best of me

A part of me i'd never seen

He never thought that he could be loved, he always saw himself as the worst version of himself. But that all changed when she showed up in his life unexpectedly. She showed him parts of himself he has never seen before. She changed him into a better person. He never new he had these sides to him but she showed him like a hidden chapter between sticky pages glued together that he hid.

You took my soul and wiped it clean.

He was never a relegious person but she came to his life like a saint and changed his soul for the better. She saved him when he was stuck in a dark void of emptyness and anger. He worshiped her love like a person in church.

Our love was made for movie screens

If their love life was a movie. He was sure that everyone would have loved her as much as he did. They would have seen how deep their love was, how inlove he was. But he geasses that not every movie has a happy ending. There love story had a plot twist not even he could see coming.

Ooh, if you loved me

Why'd you leave me

Take my body

Take my body

All I want is..

All I need is..

To find somebody

I'll find somebody

Like you, ooh

He promised himself, he promised you, that he would move on. Find somebody that would love him like you did, but he can't. He would have to brake that promise. He can't move on, you were his somebody...

Thank you for reading this, I hope this wasn't a bad story😅. Bye bye!!

[hyperions-light]

okay everyone today let’s talk about profound, overwhelming emotion as a theme in Veilguard

Sounds fun right

Gonna do like a sort of deconstructed essay thing (or I WAS, but this is an actual essay. Sigh)

Thesis: DATV is exploring how its characters confront and process emotions and events so overwhelming that they could define the characters entire lives if ignored or pushed aside; the player is encouraged to provide the characters with the appropriate emotional tools to dismantle the seemingly impossible obstacles that stand in their way, in order to complete their character arcs and contribute to the resolution of the central conflict.

WOagh this got way long, like REALLY long, so I am cutting here. I hope you didn't think the Grey Warden essay was verbose, bc this is much longer! You've been warned lol

PART I: ISATUNOLL

I feel like we have to talk about Harding first bc what’s more overwhelming than having the entire history of your race shoved on you at once? (I've decided to relocate to the computer, so you know I'm taking this seriously) So Harding gets magic rock powers, and then you have that sort of lull in her story where she's just trying to feel them out, but you can already see the game setting up the dilemma, because she's constantly checking against Rook to see what they think about it. She doesn't know how to feel-- should she be worried, excited? You can encourage her down different paths, but whatever you choose, you're providing a way for her to conceptualize this thing that (as far as she knows) has never really happened to anyone else.

And then when you go to meet the Oracle, the game introduces the idea of this overwhelming rage, this intense frustration that IS hers, but also isn't. She (probably) doesn't know what happened to the Titans by that point (you can do Regrets of the Dread Wolf pretty early but idk if it's able to be finished at that point?) but I think the stone giant you fight there is her inborn anger resonating with the much larger, dormant anger of the Titans. And you see her deny her own anger and her own feelings generally (the coffee scene with Lucanis, while tonally lighthearted, is intended to set this up). Again, Rook can intervene, and this time you also see your companions providing their own advice (Lucanis and Taash both tell her not to hide her anger/try to make people happy and Davrin repeatedly urges her to stand and face 'whatever it is' directly). So both Rook and their friends are supplying tools to deal with this upcoming confrontation.

So, the culmination of the arc comes in Isana Negat, where Harding faces the physically manifested anger of the Titans in the form of herself. She says it is her anger, and it IS, she is angry and they are angry, together; Isatunoll-- I am, we are. She did not know what to do with it, and that is why it is here; the game is positing that avoiding confrontation and acceptance of one's feelings can lead to harm for oneself AND for others. It IS Harding that is attacking you, because it was her raising the enemies in the cavern. But, at the same time, Harding is here out of a desire to protect others, and she is compassionate to this manifestation; she apologizes for not knowing how to confront it and letting it run wild in this way.

Fortunately, by this point Rook and company have already provided her with the tools to be successful in this encounter. She does not turn away from her anger, she does not attempt to run or dissemble as she might have done before. By the time Rook reaches the platform she has already absorbed the being; she is just having a hard time fully accepting it. Rook and the other companion physically grab hold of her, as Rook directs her down the path of acceptance through compassion, or acceptance through embracing anger. It is important that neither choice offers a denial. Through the strength of the unity of the team, here represented by physical closeness, and because Harding herself has changed as a character, she is able to integrate the Titans' anger and affirm that she and the other dwarves will continue to persist in spite of what was done to them. DAI players may recognize this as a well-placed echo of the conversation thread between Solas and Varric about the man who persisted in spite of losing everything; Varric said then that the fact that the man lived, that he continued, was a triumph in itself. The dwarves triumph as a race here, by not allowing the horrific violation committed against the Titans destroy them, and so does Harding.

The final piece of Harding's journey is her meeting with Stalgard and his sister outside of Isana Negat, in front of the mountain that was/is a Titan. She returns to them the knowledge that was lost for centuries, and the anger that comes with it, but affirms that they cannot return to what was; this brings change, GOOD change, to the dwarven people and will redefine them. By successfully accepting this outsized emotional trauma, Harding has helped her people, and becomes a more effective member of her team. Catharsis, acceptance, and emotional growth make her stronger.

PART II: I AM NOT THIS

When Rook meets Lucanis, he has been kept in a prison for a year, being tortured and violated by the Venatori, who have been attempting to turn him into a demon. It hasn't worked correctly, because Lucanis and Spite have an accord. However, you first see him just kind of running around killing whoever he comes across; Rook provide direction and a specific target, a chance for freedom. It is significant here that the prison is underwater; Lucanis is, metaphorically, drowning. The prison is also referred to as the Ossuary, which is a place you store the bones of the dead; the outside world believed he was dead, and, metaphorically, he did die here. You kill his torturer, but it is not enough; the woman who kidnapped him and the orchestrator of his violation still lives.

Rook returns to Treviso where Lucanis finds out that he has truly lost almost everything. His grandmother, Caterina, appears to be dead, and his city, Treviso, is occupied by the Antaam. The only thing he has left is Illario, and he immediately grabs onto the idea that Zara, who he believes killed Caterina, is going to kill Illario, too. He panics in response, but he is trained as a Crow to shut down his emotion, and practiced at doing so from his year spent constantly disassociating in the Ossuary. He says he needs to work; Illario and Teia protest, but he insists. He is returning to the thing he knows how to do, grabbing for a sense of normalcy when everything else is lost and he believes the little he has left is in danger. He will destroy the threat and this will also conveniently allow him to put off his real emotional trauma from the prior year.

Every cutscene Rook has with Lucanis between his major plot events in this section involves him trying to contain and ignore Spite. He tries to constantly stay awake to ensure that the demon cannot take over, and he tries to befriend and placate his new associates by buying them stuff (a VERY rich person thing to do) and taking care of them. He is trying to convince himself and them that he is NOT dangerous; he is not a demon, not an abomination. But he is not confronting his fear, he is only putting it off; often, in conversation with others he will be flippant about Spite, or he will deflect their concern about it. He chooses his 'bedroom' in part because it can contain Spite, and because it is the farthest possible location from the Eluvian, where Spite keeps trying to go (I just noticed that! Very fun!). In the meantime, he is also ignoring the fact that Illario is being extremely suspicious, because he doesn't want to know that his brother is the one who hurt him. Lucanis is an astute person by nature, and could certainly have observed this, had he not been deliberately trying to obscure it from himself.

Davrin is a huge problem for him because he is the most direct person in Veilguard. He shows up and tells Lucanis that if Spite overtakes him, he will kill him. This touches on Lucanis' fear of his own lack of control and drives too directly at what he wants to ignore. They are immediately at odds, which is made worse by Lucanis' 'failure' at Weisshaupt, which causes him to lash out at Davrin. He believes that the fact that he was unable to kill Ghilan'nain is indicative of him losing his abilities as an assassin, which is one of the only familiar things that he has left. Fortunately, Rook and company are there to reassure him; the situation is helped by the presence of Taash, Emmrich and Neve, who are unafraid of Spite, and whom he can rely on to control the demon if he cannot. However, the problem remains that he refuses to seriously deal with Spite in any way. As the inextricable representation of Lucanis' trauma (it would LITERALLY kill him to remove it), ignoring him means Lucanis is unable come to terms with what has happened.

This comes to a head when Illario kills Zara, and Lucanis is unable to stop Spite from almost murdering his brother with his own body in response. This is the final, most devastating loss of control. He apologizes to Rook for the lapse, and tries to refocus on Illario, who he now has definitive proof betrayed him. He says he is going to take everything away from him, but truly this is just another distraction; revenge is not going to be enough because it will just mean that he has nothing on which to focus his and Spite's combined ire, and then he will still have a demon inside him and no accord. What saves him is Rook, and finding out that Caterina is still alive. This is fantastic news because it means he hasn't lost everything, but it also presents a dilemma; is it more important to attack Illario, to seek revenge, even if it endangers Caterina's life? Does he risk what he values most-- his family-- to pursue his vengeance?

I was going to write an entirely separate post on the mind prison, my favorite part of Lucanis' arc, so I'll (try) to be brief here. The metaphorical Ossuary is a prison of Lucanis' fear; those he is scared he will hurt, or who will see him for what he believes he is: a demon. In order to get him out of it, Rook needs to cooperate with Spite, and confront each fear individually, breaking down their flawed presuppositions about Lucanis which are trapping him there. It is also significant that Lucanis himself is unable to articulate that he is trapped, and is even unable to ask for help; it is Spite who invites Rook in and concretizes Lucanis' emotional state. He can't get out alone. When Rook reaches Lucanis he admits that he has been avoiding his emotions but that, "It's just... so much. I don't know where to begin."

What happened to Lucanis was life-alteringly traumatic. It is unsurprising that he does not have the tools to effectively confront it. However, Rook encourages him here to begin the process by creating an agreement with Spite in the short-term. Process your trauma by breaking it down and taking it one step at a time. After this section in the game, the player can hear Lucanis converse with his friends about trying to work with Spite; about how the spirit is learning to understand the physical world, and they are no longer fighting. Again, we see that ignoring his emotions was hurting both Lucanis himself and other people, and that by moving forward, no matter how slowly, he can regain control of his life and build a new one alongside Spite, accepting the new circumstance.

When he confronts Illario for what he did and, incidentally, control over the Crows, he does not kill him. He never loses control and he and Spite work together to resist the blood magic that Illario attempts to use on them. Working through his problems with the support of his team allows Lucanis to preserve what he values-- his family, the Crows-- instead of pursuing an endless and ultimately pointless crusade of death in an attempt to avoid his problems. He makes the Crows stronger and heals himself through confronting and accepting his emotions.

PART III: I WILL GO AND SEEK ATONEMENT

Hey it's Solas! Remember how this game used to be called Dreadwolf? That was probably because he's the thematic anchor of the narrative. So, here we go. (This section is going to discuss the 'good ending' for Solas, because I don't think the others really feed into this theme much.)

Solas is the instigator of the conflict in Veilguard, and he may be an antagonistic force throughout the story, depending on how Rook chooses to deal with him. This game gives confirmation that Solas is a spirit, and so the generally established rules apply: he acts as you expect him to act, he is what you expect him to be, so the player is likely to have wildly variable experiences with him.

Throughout the game the player can encounter sections which depict his greatest regrets in his life so far; taking physical form, creating the weapon that severed the Titans' dreams, incidentally creating the Blight, accidentally sending Mythal to her death, and accidentally creating the Veil (dang, nothing goes right for this guy lol). This series of decisions led, in Solas' time, to monumental harm for countless people, and it is what has led him to his current course. He cannot stop because he is utterly trapped in his regret; these moments, though degraded, surrounded him within the Lighthouse while he planned for a decade. The Caretaker tells you that his regrets are so vicious that they are the teeth with which Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain are tearing into the Crossroads. Solas is destroying something beautiful he helped build because he is unable to let go of the past.

Although you, dear reader, may have your own opinion of him, Solas is undeniably compassionate. In DAI, he will give you massive amounts of approval for simply helping out villagers and performing menial tasks that serve no greater purpose than to alleviate suffering. The amount of suffering he (mostly) unintentionally caused could do nothing but horrify and pain him. His regret is oceanic. If you decide to persuade him to your side at the end of the game, one of the reasons he cites for continuing down his destructive path is because it would dishonor those he has wronged if he were to abandon his work. He is sunk cost fallacy-ing himself into mass murder, basically.

Part of the reason that he is doing this is because, like with Lucanis' issues, the emotion, the weight of the repeated failure is almost too big to effectively reckon with. But Rook can help him do it. Throughout the game Solas watches through his avatar in the Lighthouse; he sees Rook build their team, sees them solve the problems of the people around them and find strength in unity, and so when they appear in Minrathous he does actually believe that they can solve the problem that he cannot. He is deceiving Rook when he gives them the dagger, true, but this is his most valuable asset in the fight; if he did not believe in their success, it would be extremely foolish to give it to them and to commit himself to the comparatively lesser evil of Lusacan. So, Rook has effectively proven the Power of Friendship, as it were, through their actions in Veilguard.

To achieve the 'good end' for Solas, you need to have finished Regrets of the Dreadwolf and successfully confronted the fragment of Mythal that lives in the Crossroads. She will be impressed by your work in proportion to the amount of things in the game you've finished, so you must have bonded with your companions and you must have freed the Crossroads from the ravages of Solas' regrets. He helped make the mess, but other people can help him fix it, which is essentially the point that Mythal makes to him at the end; that he's not literally solely responsible for actually every bad thing that's ever happened.

You also have to tell the Inquisitor to attempt to reach him, which will lead to them saying something about forgiving his past actions if he stops trying to destroy the Veil presently (I assume the dialogue is similar in the friendship route; I have a Solas-romancing Inquisitor and that's basically what she said. I felt that part was general enough it probably carried over). All of these people and various pieces of Solas' past and present are here to break down the gigantic wall of regret that's preventing him from doing the right thing in this moment. All of his arguments for why he must keep going are refuted by these people he cared for, and to whom his regrets are attached.

Through Rook's actions they have demonstrated their ability to solve seemingly overwhelming problems. You can help Harding tame the anger of the Titans, you can help Lucanis confront his trauma, and you can help Solas finally see past his regret and be the hero he has always wanted to be. This is obviously not the only route the player can take through the game, but if they do, they help create a narrative that repeatedly deals with deconstructing and resolving overwhelming emotion. (Dear readers, remind me to make a post about Bioware games and participatory storytelling.) The story examines how intense emotion, ignored or denied, hurts oneself and others, and presents several solutions which all begin with asking for help. There is strength in unity, in compassion and togetherness, and if you cannot see the way forward alone, you will find it with other people.

WhEw okay if you actually finished reading that give yourself a high five and take a lollipop from the basket on your way out the door

on any other platform I think I would have hit a word limit of some kind, so thanks tumblr

edits incoming? very tired rn. Think I had some other point to make about Solas that I forgot maybe. I also think I could've added some of the other companions to this (Taash and Bellara were top candidates) but imo these two are the strongest for this particular theme. And it was already so long lol

okay I sleep soon. you can lmk what you think if you want? don't be a dick tho, I hope that goes without saying lmao

[diminuel]

In the fun little Roger/Garp idea (AU?), if they are the parents of Ace, would Ace know who his mother is? Would that impact Garp and Ace's relationship? Would Dragon still end up his little brother as a son?

Delightful question, thank you! Pondering this kind of insanity is just what I need!

I think we need to figure out what the setting for this is.

Let's go with a scenario where Garp (who I assume is a woman, since you mentioned her being Ace's mom) is unable to deny Roger his preposterous dying wish of leaving a legacy in the world. She'd already be pissed because they have Dragon, is that not enough? Roger's going to die and the thing he's worried about is legacy? But she can't say no to him no matter how frustrating the bastard is. She doesn't want him to go with regrets.

But then the asshole goes and causes a new age of piracy and suddenly Garp's life is going to be a lot more complicated.

As a marine, Garp has her hands full. She's already worrying about her oldest making bad choices in the aftermath of his dad's death and now there's a hunt on for any potential blood that Roger might have, any women connected to him, any children he could have fathered.

And for some reason Dragon was flying under the radar, she was flying under the radar (maybe Sengoku was running interference, you never know) but this kid? Something tells her that the child that Roger wanted to be his legacy is not going to be so lucky, that the burden of his will and his name is going to be Ace's ruin.

Hiding the kid is probably going to be the best course of action. And maybe Dragon doesn't know about Ace and doesn't find out until he seeks a safe place for his own child. Garp might just recognize this as some strange turn of face. If Dragon wants to risk raising this kid with his warlord wife/husband? Well, here's another one. Good luck. (Dragon would be used to his mom's brand of insanity so this doesn't even shock him too much and since he didn't tell her about Crocodile and Luffy until he absolutely had to, he can't even be grumpy with her.)

And maybe if Ace and Luffy grow up together Garp is granny to Ace too. Though I think Ace would know? And it probably wouldn't make him feel great. Dragon was one thing - Roger probably wasn't even a pirate by the time Dragon was born - but Ace's mom made the decision that he should be born into a world that she knew would hate him. And once he was born she didn't even want him. I think it could really mess with Ace. And no amount of supportive (adoptive) parents would fix it properly. And Marineford would be a hot mess, even worse than it already is now. >w<

And of course we can go with a sillier version where things aren't that dire. Garp could be chaotic and just drop the child on Dragon with a "I'm too old for this, it's time for you to stop your stupid revolutionary fancies and start being a responsible family man!!" (And maybe Roger is alive too in his version. Ace would find both of them very annoying. Garp would always be very offended - in an exaggerated way - when Ace would call her grandma, refusing to call her mom. They'd just be Grandma and Roger to Ace even though Dragon would always make sure to call them mom and dad to maybe get Ace to pick it up, but no. Ace decided that Dragon is his dad and Luffy is his brother, he will not hear anything else. Maybe once he meets Whitebeard he's gonna find another dad and then Dragon would be offended. Crocodile would also be offended because he objects to WB on principle X'D)

[zepskies]

Ahaha that is a great gif @lamentationsofalonelypotato! Diving into the rest of your lovely comments...

I mean, I'm sad that it's coming to a close, but I'm hoping that in the future there might be a fic with a little Elijah (or a little Jude) running around. 😏

I was also sad to get to the end, but tbh I still had ideas even after writing the ending. So you might be on to something there with a little Elijah... 😘

I love the little details about him and Benny pranking each other, but it really just made me sad because Dean left them 😭 But at the same time they are opening up with one another and sharing their life stories and I couldn't be happier.

It's bittersweet, isn't it? 🥲 On the one hand, bonding. On the other hand, it's a memory of everything Dean's left behind.

Again I stan a strong woman and Mila is just so stinking badass that I love her so much. Also yes girl, PROTECT 👏🏻 YOUR👏🏻 MAN👏🏻

Hahaa I love her too!! 🥰 100% She's gotta protect her man, even if she's not totally sure he should be her man yet. 😝

Love that you're referencing the honorable choice title here, and showing that Dean is a man of honor and that he did make a choice that maybe messed up his life, but he cared more about doing the right thing. And I think you did a great job of titling the series and the chapters in general. Each one corresponds beautifully to the themes in the chapters so you should be proud!

Aw thank you so much!! I try my best to create meaningful story titles and chapter titles, and making room for those moments that reflect the major themes of the story. "Choice" is of course the biggest theme in this story, as it could be for every story--characters making decisions that push the story forward and help define their character.

I know that something dramatic is about to happen and that I shouldn't be thinking about this right now, but I just love height difference so much😭. When a guy is bigger than his girl oh wow it sends me to the moon. I think it's so cute and goodness the cuddles must be so fun.

LOL I love it!! I absolutely love the height difference thing too. ��� I'd imagine the spooning is the best!

Again, devastating moment, but... SHE SAID HIS NAME FOR THE FIRST TIME! And the running her fingers through his hair?!?!?!?!

She said his name for the first time!! That moment after the river was probably my favorite scene to write, since it's the first time they truly explore their connection. 🥰

I'm cackling. I love Mila so much. The sass, the teasing. Oh goodness they're so cute and I am so scared that there's going to be a last minute perilous situation and somebody is gonna die.

Ahaha don't be too scared! I'm all about happy endings, and I'm so glad you're loving their dynamic. 💜

Also him respecting her when she said that she doesn't have sex before marriage is just so HONORABLE AND WORTHY and why can't there be men that respectful all the time? Dean Winchester is really just ruining other men for me everywhere. 😭

Ughh right?? Dean is just a Good Man, no matter how much he doesn't see it in himself sometimes.

So... the face squishing is a family trait I see. But man, Dean standing there while a random lady just squishing his face while his eyes are wide in horror is so funny to me.

Ahaha I'm so glad you caught that! It was such a funny visual to me too, and I felt like it was something that would happen to Dean. 😂

This bit is so good. It's so true and honest and a little heart breaking, but it's such a wonderful thing for them to talk about, because Mila knows that he's thrown away his life to save hers. And it's so wonderful that he's able to give her that confirmation and reassurance that he doesn't regret the choice he made. Because it was the right choice, the -AHEM- Honorable Choice lol 😂

Aww thank you. There are a lot of bittersweet moments in this, and this is one of them. But like you said, I felt it was important for them to have this moment where she acknowledges what he's done for her, as well as gauging if he holds any resentment. Of course, Dean doesn't regret his choice. 😉

Oh this chapter was so good my sweet friend! I'm a little sad to see that it's ending, but it was so wonderfully written and neither of them died. I was really scared about that 😅. AND it ended with a wedding (sort of?). Now little Elijah can run around the camp helping his mother and learn how to break in horses with his father. ❤️

Thank you very, very much my wonderful friend!! 😭 I'm too much of a hopeless romantic to have either Dean or Mila die. I researched into wedding customs for the Lakota people at this time, and apparently until Christianity reached their culture, they didn't have formal "weddings" in the sense that we know them today. It was more of, as long as the man got the blessing of the woman's father (and gave a nice gift), the couple would pair off and from then on live together as husband and wife.

Safe to say, Dean didn't get the chance to go about that custom lol, but there are other cultural elements I would want to explore in future chapters--along with them having a kid!! I LOVE the idea of Dean finding his role in the tribe by helping take care of/break in the horses. 💕💕

Thank you again so much for reading!

The Honorable Choice - Part 3

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC 

Summary: June 1872. Captain Dean Winchester of the U.S. Cavalry is tasked with one job: break a wild mustang. He just didn’t expect the woman who infiltrates his camp, intent on freeing her tribe’s horse.

AN: The last chapter! Hold on, it's about to get bumpy...

Disclaimer: I got inspired after a recent rewatch of Spirit: The Stallion of the Cimarron (literally a perfect movie), as well as having Yellowstone in the back of my brain. I’ve done extensive research for this one, both on the American Indian Lakota tribe, and on American history during this time in the late 1800s (AKA: the Old West, during the American Indian Wars and the Sioux Wars). Of course, one of my main goals is to avoid inaccuracies, both historical and cultural.

**Pronunciation guide at the end!

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: @jacklesversebingo Western AU

Song Inspo: The Spirit Soundtrack

Word Count: 5.7K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Protective Dean, survival situations, smut (mutual masturbation, fingering, and more), angst, and fluff.

🐎 Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

🎙️ Listen to the podfic version here!

Part 3: Worthy

They travel together for two more days. Dean isn’t really a talkative man, but inevitably, he finds himself speaking to fill the comfortable stretches of quiet plodding across the grasslands.

He tells her about growing up on his family’s farm, where his father was firm but fair, and a larger-than-life presence when Sam and Dean were kids. His mother though, she was the only one who could ever go toe to toe with John Winchester and win.

“She tamed him,” Mila remarks with a smile. Dean’s lips quirk in response.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” he chuckles, “but he knew he couldn’t pull a whole lot of shit with Mom. She’s a real pistol when she’s gotta be.”

Talking about them makes his heart heavy and sobers his mood, so he deflects with other stories, other chapters of his life. 

He talks about going through basic training alongside Benny Lafitte. As privates, Dean pranked his friend by filling his lumpy old pillow with raw eggs and chicken feathers. In retaliation, Benny swapped Dean’s morning coffee with actual dirt and hot water. Their boyish games escalated until they were nearly kicked out of the military.

Dean managed to smooth things over though. He’s always had a way of charming people, even the gruff Sergeant Major, Bobby Singer.

Mila admits that she and her cousin Šóta used to sneak out of the village when they were younger. He taught her how to climb trees, how to fight and protect herself, and how to ride a horse astride, like a man. He was the only one who ever encouraged her to have the “free mind” her mother dreamed about.

The more she confides in him, her eyes sparking with life and her hands gesticulating along with her words, the more Dean listens.  

On the third day, it’s nearing mid-afternoon when Dean slows Baby to a stop. After miles and miles of forest and grassland covered, they’ve finally approached a large, wide river. Mila stops beside him.

“My tribe lives beyond the river,” she says, “but the current is strong now.”

Dean looks over at her. A question he hasn’t wanted to ask crops back up. He feels that now is the time to voice it.

“Yeah, about that…I’m thinking your tribe doesn’t take very well to outsiders,” he says. “White men in particular.”

Mila presses her lips together. He can tell she’s been thinking the same thing, but she turns to him with a determined set to her features.

“I will protect you,” she says.

Dean frowns. He doesn’t like the sound of that. On one hand, it warms him that she seems to really mean it. On the other hand, he doesn’t want to know what it’ll take for her to protect him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks.

She turns her face away and doesn’t seem to want to answer at first.

“Mila…”

“The Chief is my uncle,” she says at last. “He will listen to me.”

Dean blinks. Well, that changes things…maybe.

He’s still not convinced, but at this point, he really doesn’t have many options. It’s either take his chances with her tribe, or become a vagabond. He’s not sure how long he could survive in wilds of the West alone, especially while trying to dodge military patrols.

In the past three days, it’s taken Dean all that time to come to terms with a simple fact. He’ll likely never see his brother again, or his mother. It’s a pain that cuts into him deeply, down to his bones. It stings behind his eyes.

But if he only has two choices, then he at least wants to make sure Mila gets home safely…even if that means he won’t be.

He’s come this far. If his career is worth the price of what he feels is right, then his life is worth it too.

With that decision made, Dean expels a long, somewhat faltering breath. He locks away the rest of his uncertainty, his apprehension, and even his grief. He hides deep inside, where she won’t see it. 

“All right, the current doesn’t look too bad over here,” he says, pointing to farther north along the river. “The horses can make it.”

Mila nods in agreement. She still looks uneasy, though she tries to hide it too. She ventures ahead into the river. Dean follows close behind.

The water is shallow at first, but it all too quickly gets deeper. The horses plod over the river stones and vegetation under the surface, and the humans are led deeper, until they’re submerged into the water up to their waists.

It’s good that Mila rides that giant mustang; if she were on a mare, like Dean, she’d already be sunk up to her shoulders. Baby’s a big girl, to be sure, but Mila is nearly a foot shorter than him, with a smaller frame. He watches her carefully as she makes her way ahead of him.

That’s why he’s able to act fast when Mato slips, dunking Mila under the water. She gasps and tries to cling onto him, but the current is fierce. It pushes Mato down the river no matter how much he scrambles and kicks at the water, braying wildly in distress.

Shit! Dean tugs sharply at Baby’s reigns and strives to catch up to them. He grabs Mato’s reigns and pulls and pulls, until he and Baby are able to drag him to the other side of the river where he can get a foothold with his hooves.

Mila is starting to fall off his back. She struggles to cling on while the river pushes at her, with her wet hair falling in her eyes. Dean leans back as far as he can to try and pull her up.

“It’s okay, I’ve gotcha,” he calls out, even though his heart hammers with alarm.

She reaches out for his hand in turn. Just as his fingers begin to close over hers, a wave from the current crashes into her. A short scream tears from her throat after she loses her grip on Mato’s neck. Without her weight, he’s able to pull himself back up onto the bank along with Baby.

Damn it! Gut-wrenching alarm spears Dean into action. He leaps down from Baby and removes his gloves, his hat, and his uniform jacket, so he can dive into the water. Thank God he’s a strong swimmer.

Mila seems to be too. She carves through the water against the current the best she can and tries to keep her head above the waves, but Dean can see it’s a losing battle. He manages to grab hold of her arm, and then wraps an arm around her waist to keep her close. Both of them work together to try and cling to any passing rock or low-hanging vine as the current sweeps them out toward an ultimate end.

A waterfall.

Of course. Goddamn it. Dean doesn’t know how steep it is on the other side, and he doesn’t want to know. All he’s trying to do is keep himself and Mila above the water.

She hooks her hand around a sharp rock. It bites into her hand, making her cry out, but she clings to it for all she’s worth. She holds onto Dean just as tightly, even though the current wants to take him. She tries to pull him closer, close enough for him to get a hold on the rock as well.

This time, it’s Dean who loses his footing. The rocks slip beneath the soles of his feet when he attempts to gain some leverage.

A shout of surprise escapes from him when he fails, and it gets swallowed up by water rushing down his throat.

“Dean!” Mila yells, for the first time using his name. The last thing he registers is the fear in her eyes—afraid for him.

The river takes him over the edge of the abyss, and he falls.

He never expected that he would get to open his eyes again, let alone to the sight that greets him. Mila’s familiar face, framed by the dark, drying waves of her hair, is bright with firelight. It dances in orange-gold across her features. Her eyes are warm like rich molasses when she looks down and finds him awake.

She smiles in relief.

He realizes that he’s lying on soft grass with his head pillowed in her lap. She’s taken off his boots and half of his white undershirt; she tore one of his sleeves to wrap around a mercifully shallow gash in his shoulder.

The horses are drinking from the river nearby, with a pile of apples split between them. There’s a fish roasted over the fire, but all Dean cares about is the way her fingers are running through his hair. She sings a soft song under her breath while she passes her other hand over his injured arm without touching it.

He doesn’t understand the words, but he thinks she might be trying to heal him. He’s heard plenty of stories about the Sioux people, most he’s taken with a grain of salt. He does remember Cas saying that their healers are different from doctors.  

Dean’s never given their hoodoo much thought, but right about now, he hopes it works.

“Mornin’,” he croaks.

Mila’s relieved face becomes touched with amusement.

“It’s night,” she says. “You slept for a long time.”

Dean wants to sit up and take an inventory of his injuries, but he can’t make his body move just yet. He’s too tired and bruised. He also likes being in her arms. He likes her fingers in his hair, now moving to his cheek. He sighs through his nose in contentment as her thumb drifts over his overgrown stubble. 

“Thank you,” she says. Emotion is thick in her voice.

Dean meets her eyes again, and he smiles. He raises the back of his hand to touch her smooth cheek, gently. He lets his fingers glide across her tan skin, down the column of her neck. Her breath hitches.

She takes his calloused hand in her slender one. Her long hair falls like a curtain over her shoulder, almost like it’s shielding them from whatever is left to come for them beyond the forest. Dean wraps an ebony strand around his finger, just to feel it fall loosely again.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” he says.

Mila graces him with another smile from her lips. He wants to know what they taste like.

“I guess you are pretty, for a White Man,” she says teasingly.

Her fingers trace his brow, his jawline, even the tip of his chin. She seems to be avoiding his plush mouth, even though her gaze keeps dropping there. Dean pretends to frown.

“Sweetheart, that’s not the way you talk about a man,” he says.

Her brows raise. “No?”

“Handsome. Strong. Toothsome, if you will,” he says, enjoying the way she begins to blush. “That’s what you wanna call a man.”

“Toothsome. I don’t know this word,” she admits. “Am I supposed to eat you?”

Dean resists the urge to say the first incorrigible thing that pops into his head. Instead, his body shakes with laughter.

It’s difficult at first, all his muscles pulling at him in protest, but he raises himself into a sitting position. He cups Mila’s cheek, dragging his thumb across her lower lip. Her lashes are dark and long. They move when she looks up at him. He knows the look in her eyes, wanting, desiring, but also unsure of what she should allow him.

Dean leans in slowly, giving her time to decide.

She tilts her face up to his. He noses at her cheek, his eyes falling closed along with hers.

He finds her lips with his own on instinct and feeling alone. Soft and tender movements, testing, asking.

She answers him. Her fingers tangle in the front of his tattered shirt as her lips begin to move against his. Dean wraps an arm around her waist and gathers her against his chest. His other hand glides down her arm, down her side and along every soft curve. Her clothes are still damp, and so are his.

“It’ll be faster to dry our clothes if we’re not wearing ‘em,” Dean rumbles. His voice is deep with desire. He presses kisses along the side of her jaw, behind her ear, down her neck and shoulder. He earns her pleased hum, her heavier breaths, and her fingers once again in his hair.

“I can’t,” she gasps. She says something in her native tongue, too fast for Dean to even register. He slows down so he can meet her eyes.

“What was that?” he asks. Her face falls, and she starts to trip over her words.

“I am not…how you say, married. I have to be…”

Dean smiles ruefully, sliding a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Chaste?” he offers. She nods, her brows furrowed. Her grip on his shirt tightens.

“Yes,” she says. “In the eyes of my people, it is…”

“I get it,” Dean says. When she still seems conflicted, he presses a kiss to her forehead. 

“Really, I understand,” he says.

His problem is that he stares into her eyes too long, and at her kiss-swollen lips. He dives back in for another taste.

This time, he’s a little less gentlemanly than he promised. His tongue sweeps along her lower lip, begging entrance. She makes a sound of surprise, but she opens up to him. Her gentle hands slide up his chest to hold his face, and her thumbs stroke his cheeks. He holds one of her wrists to keep her there as his tongue dances with hers. She tastes like the river, and like salty tears.

Had she cried for him? How long did she sit with his body, waiting to see if he would wake up?

Despite those worrying thoughts, Dean knows this feels right. More right than he’s ever felt.

It’s harder than he might’ve imagined, but he still pulls away, before he won’t be able to stop himself. Mila pants for breath. She seems to feel she should let him go, but also doesn’t show any sign of wanting to. Smiling, Dean caresses her cheek one more time before he turns to the fish she roasted.

“This looks good,” he says, clearing his throat. “What kinda fish is this?”

With a sigh, she attempts to steady herself and moves to join him by the fire.

That night, Mila dreams.

She dreams of wings, white and beautiful. She hears the cry of an eagle before she sees his great wingspan take off in flight. He soon finds his mate, and they dance together in the sky. 

When she wakes, the fire has gone out and it’s still dark in the night. It takes her a moment to realize that she’s safe. Finally safe.

And she’s lying securely in Dean’s arms.

She’s no longer conflicted when she stares up at his face.

She will bring him home to her tribe, and she will explain. If they still don’t welcome him, then she prays for the strength to keep to her honor. Because now, she begins to realize…

Her heart has already chosen.

“Kimmímila, what have you done?” her uncle asks in the language of their people.

He is Tahatan, Chief of their tribe.

Mila’s father, Chatan, and her cousin Šóta have tied Dean Winchester to a post in the center of the Chief’s large tipi. Dean kneels with his head bowed in respect, even though he keeps sneaking looks at Mila to try and gauge what’s happening. He doesn’t understand a word of any of it.

“You’ve brought this outsider into our village, this White Man!” Tahatan shouts, his voice deep and resounding.

Mila steps forward, despite her mother’s embarrassment and her father trying to grab her shoulder. For the second time in her life, she defies her father for what she believes is right. The first was to rescue a member of their tribe—because even a horse’s spirit should not be broken by greed.

“Uncle, I’ve told you the story, though you don’t want to believe it,” she says. “Dean Winchester saved me when he could have killed me, or worse. He defied his own people. He is dead to his own people, for me, and because of me. You may think they lack all honor, but this man is different.”

She looks over at Dean, and he meets her gaze. He wears an anxious frown as he looks between her and the chief, but she has a feeling that his fear is for her, not for himself.

She kneels beside him, then looks up at her uncle with all the stubbornness she’s ever possessed in her life. She feels it’s led her to exactly this moment.

“And we are one,” she says. Nerves trill up her spine as she says it. She predicts the way shock falls over the room. The way her father curses out loud, angry. The way her mother covers her mouth in dismay. The way the Chief takes a step back, tilting his head at his niece.

“You would take it that far?” he asks.

Her face doesn’t change. “It’s already done.”

Tahatan is beside himself, both angry and perplexed. He goes back to his chair of wicker and wood that lies centered in the room. He drops heavily into it. After a long while, in which he thinks in silence…he releases a heavy sigh. He gestures for his brother and his son to untie Dean. The men do so, but they don’t let him go free. They force him to stand and bring him forward to kneel again before the Chief.

“Dean Winchester,” Tahatan says.

“Yes, sir,” Dean replies.

“You prove yourself to be a man with honor,” he says in English. “Kimmímila has chosen you. She claims you have chosen her in return. Do you deny this?”

Dean glances over at her. She bites the inside of her lip, a bit worried about how he’ll react. She’s not sure he completely understands what Tahatan is telling him, but he nods, regardless.

“No, sir. I don’t deny it,” Dean says.

“Then, you will be allowed to stay, and live among us,” Tahatan declares. "We will see for ourselves what you are. We will see if you are worthy."

Dean gives a nod, crossed with a bow of some kind. He obviously isn’t sure of what he’s supposed to do, but he does say thank you. Mila wraps her hands around his uninjured arm and helps him to his feet. She smiles at him to let him know that the worst is over. He blows out a breath in relief.

“Is that it?” he whispers. He expected more of a thrashing, if he’s honest.

“Almost,” she replies. The two of them stop short before her father, Chatan.

Dean straightens up and holds out his hand. “Sir.”

Chatan glances down at the white hand extended toward him. His gaze raises back up to Dean. 

He grunts in acknowledgement, but he turns on his heels and storms out of the tipi. Her mother comes forward next. She examines Dean from all angles. She takes his face in her hand, somewhat squishing his cheeks, so she can look deeply into his startled eyes.

She seems satisfied by what she finds, and she lets him go. Afterward, she takes Mila’s hand and heaves a deep sigh.

She kisses her daughter’s hand and says nothing else, leaving them to find her husband and calm him down.

Dean turns to Mila with a look that says, please tell me that’s it.

She smiles more genuinely.

“Come,” she says.

She leads him by the hand out of the Chief’s tipi and through the village. Dean takes in the rows of other tall, cone-like structures covered in buffalo skin, as well as all the faces that turn to stare at him in a mix of curiosity, wariness, and even fear. Some of them whisper to each other, taking their children by the hand and keeping them close.

Dean’s still on guard himself, even when Mila takes him to a smaller tipi. It’s been closed up for a while now, by the look of it. Weeds have grown right outside the entrance. 

“This one’s yours?” Dean asks.

She pauses, giving him another small smile. “Ours.”

Dean raises a brow. Ours. Really?

She opens the flap in the front and beckons him inside. There’s still enough daylight to shine through the outer lining. Inside, his gaze flits over the old pile of stones in the center for heating, clothes folded in the corner, some cooking pots and utensils, paintings on wood and clay, and a couple of beaded decorations. Buffalo skin bedding is laid out on the other side with a couple of soft looking furs. 

Son of a gun. Dean doesn’t even blink as he processes it all. He’s in a damn tipi. This is really about to become his life.

Shaking his head a little, he forces himself to focus on Mila. She’s his anchor, and she seems to sense that he’s reeling. She guides him to sit beside her on the bedding, holding his hands in hers. After a moment, he reaches up to tuck a curling strand of hair behind her ear.

“You didn’t get in too much trouble because of me, did you?” he asks.

She shakes her head. “No. My father and uncle are very similar. Strong to anger, but it is quick to run out. At least with me.”

Dean thinks he understands. Short fuse, quick fizzle.

“There is just…one thing,” Mila says. Her eyes fall away from his, like she’s embarrassed. He squeezes her hands.

“What?” he asks, his brows furrowing. It gets her to look at him again, but she seems worried to tell him.

“To convince my uncle to let you stay, I told them that we…” she trails, trying to find the right words in English. “That we are married.”

Dean’s brows raise high. His heart trips up faster. Okay, “ours” makes a lot more sense now.

“I am sorry,” she says quietly. “I didn’t want you hurt—”

“Sweetheart,” Dean says, cupping her cheek. Even with the hammering of his heart, he grins. “I’m pretty sure that’s where this was going anyway.”

In fact, this is a best-case scenario, as far as he’s concerned. He leans in to kiss her, and it doesn’t take long at all for her to sigh in relief, melting against him.

“We’re married, huh?” he asks. “No ceremony? No white dress?”

“We are bonded,” she replies, nodding as she meets every one of his kisses. “Or, we will be.”

She tugs him closer and revels in the feeling of his hands beginning to roam her body, sliding down her waist, her hips and thighs.

“Guess that means we have to seal the deal,” he grins. His lips drift away from hers to burn a familiar path across her cheek. He takes to nibbling her ear, making her flinch and laugh as it tickles.

“Seal-the-deal. What does that mean?” she asks.

Dean chuckles lowly in her ear. “Oh, I think you know.”

He guides her onto her back, over the comfortable mess of furs. He wants to take his time exploring every inch of soft, tan skin, but he first sweeps her hair away from her eyes, the back of his hand brushing against her cheek. She smiles up at him softly.

“Do you regret?” she whispers, reaching up to touch his chin with two slender fingers. “Do you regret helping me?”

Dean considers her question. He knows he’ll carry his family in his heart until the day he dies. His brother, his mother, the memory of his father. Benny and Cas, even Jack, and so many others.

It’s already a heavy burden, but he had always been prepared to lose his life on the battlefield, in service of his country. At least this way, he gains a new life. 

“No. Never did,” Dean replies. “Not even once.”

He bows his head toward hers, and he proves it to her. His lips capture hers, fueled by passion and wanting. Mila’s hands slide over his shoulders and down his back. Maybe without her realizing it, she implores him to let go of the weight heaped on his shoulders.

When he begins to bunch up the hem of her dress, she sits up to help guide his hands. Her quickening breaths mesh with his as the first layer of clothing drops beside the bedding. His tattered shirt joins her dress, along with pants and shoes and boots, until all that’s left is skin against warm, bare skin. He lays on his side right beside her and explores wherever she lets him begin.  

“Beautiful,” Dean murmurs, as his lips follow the column of her neck, down between her breasts. Her breaths rise to meet him, especially when he begins to toy with a dark, pebbled nipple. Her fingers slip through his hair, and his name falls from her lips. He palms one breast while kissing and gently teasing the other, exploring sensitive flesh and grazing her sensitive fleshwith his teeth.

“No man’s ever touched you?” he asks, despite knowing the answer.

She shakes her head, her fingers gripping his hair tighter as his lips and tongue move against her skin.

“No,” Mila gasps a reply. Her hand slides down the back of his neck, and the more he teases her, her nails soon create faint red lines down his back, her thighs squeezing together. She feels a throbbing ache at the very center of her. Despite her inexperience with men, she knows what it means, and she knows what she wants.

Dean’s mouth drags away from her breast. He pulls back so he can meet her eyes. A smile curves his lips, and he takes one of her hands from his shoulders. 

“Have you ever touched yourself?” he asks. He guides her hand down her body, brushing over a wet, sensitive nipple, down her stomach, and between her legs. This time, Mila nods in answer. She stares up at Dean with eyes like molten honey. He leans in to kiss her neck.

“Show me,” he says.

She shudders at the depths in his voice. It increases the flood of wetness she already feels, even before she slips two fingers between the folds of her sex. She gathers some of that slick and circles it over the source of her pleasure, the small nub above her entrance.

Dean takes his hardened length in his hand. While she writhes by her own hand, he drinks her in with his eyes. A soft groan falls from his lips as he pumps himself a few times, sliding a thumb across the weeping head of his cock.

He can’t be a spectator for long though. He nips tantalizingly at her neck, creating a zing of added sensation across her skin. She whimpers, though she tries to stifle it, her knee bending further.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Dean says. “Let me hear you.”

He releases himself and replaces her hand with his own. He slips two long fingers inside her drenched entrance, earning a gasping moan from her. She latches onto his shoulders and buries her face into his neck. She whispers fervent things he doesn’t understand, but it only spurs him on.

His thumb circles insistently over her clit as his fingers pulse inside her. Her hips buck a needy rhythm against his hand, until her thighs begin to shake, and her inner walls squeeze even tighter around his fingers.

“Shit, that’s it, baby,” he pants gruffly against her cheek. “Let go for me.”

Warmth snaps and floods from her throbbing core, and she cries out near his ear, her nails biting into his skin. Her release coats his fingers.

Mila drops her head back against the furs underneath her. Her chest rises and falls quickly while she tries to catch her breath, her eyes tightly shut. Dean surprises her with a soft kiss.

“Mila,” he prods. He wants to see her eyes again, so pretty and wanton when she comes. He veers away from her lips to kiss her cheek, and then the other side of her neck. “Let me see you, sweetheart.”

She huffs a small laugh. Opening her eyes, she gestures to her bare body. “This is not enough?”

Dean’s lips tug at a smile. He shakes his head. “As a matter of fact, no.”

He shifts over her, finding his place between the cradle of her thighs. His elbows come to rest on either side of her head. She feels trapped by his body, even as she welcomes his weight and the feeling of his arousal, long and heavy and hard, trapped between their bodies. This man fills every corner of her world in this moment.

“If I’m your husband now, that means I get all of you,” he says with a grin. She gazes up at him, both in blushing amusement and affection.

“All of me,” Mila repeats. She takes his face in her hands and brings him closer, until her lips are a whisper from his. “Then I want all of you.” 

Dean chuckles. “You sure about that?”

She smiles in satisfaction, and her lips claim him this time. One kiss turns into many, each one mounting in passion and desire. Dean groans into her when she begins to touch him. Her hands are soft, but direct in their seeking; they caress his shoulders, run down his chest and stomach, and then, more tentatively explore the now painfully hard length of him pressing against her.

He makes a grateful sound of pleasure when her hand wraps around his cock, squeezing gently. His fingers bury themselves in her hair.

“I want all of you,” she says, this time a plea and a demand all at once as she strokes him.

Dean nods in agreement. He’s come this far. He can do that for her too.

He spreads her thighs a bit wider and encourages her to adjust the angle of her hips for him. His hand glides down her plush thigh and gets a healthy grip. Then he slides his hand under hers and guides his cock through her folds, first just holding himself at her warm, wet entrance.

He manages to wait for a second, in order to meet her gaze. She’s already holding onto his arms tightly, like he’s become her anchor. Her thighs wrap around his hips and beckon him closer.

Slowly, he pushes inside. He takes care in how he works her open. She winces at the sting of his girth stretching her, but his fingers once again massage her clit, stroking her arousal back into a keening flame. He swallows her gasps and moans as he bottoms out inside her, fully sheathed. Tears prick at her eyes, but not from pain.

Mila’s dream flashes like a waking vision behind her eyes. Wings take flight, along with the gleam of a golden beak and a sharp eye.

She blinks, and the image disappears. She’s left with the man who has become hers, making love to her with every stroke of him deep inside her. She presses grateful kisses across his neck and shoulder, wherever she can reach while she clings to his strong arms.

The thick head of him brushes a sensitive place over and over, one that tightens the coil in her lower belly and makes her core tremble again with warmth, until her body convulses against him, pulsing in pleasure, gripping him tight from the inside. Mila’s fingers clench in his hair just as tightly as her release hits her in a powerful wave; even her voice becomes lost to it.

Gritting his teeth, Dean grips the soft flesh of her hip and chases his own end. The way her inner walls choke his cock, he has no choice but to come hot inside her, his spend mixing with her own release. A strangled shout tears from his throat.

He has to brace himself before he crushes her. With his forearms resting on either side of her head, he lowers his forehead against hers. Her legs slip from where they’ve been tightly molded to his hips, her feet meeting the floor. Eventually he slips out of her. He watches his seed drip out and create a mess on the dark furs. The sight of it satisfies something primal deep inside him.

Later he’ll ask her about washing up (and about supper), but for now, he just turns onto his back beside her. She inches toward him, and he raises an arm so she can splay out against his side. They both lay there for a moment in the quiet, just catching their breath together. It marks the end of a long journey, and yet, the start of one too.

Mila turns to raise onto her elbow. She reaches over to wipe the sweat from his brow in a tender touch. Dean smiles up at her. He takes her hand and presses a kiss into her palm.

“I could get used to this,” he says.

Her eyes widen in surprise, but then she laughs softly. “Yes.”

Her hand moves down to his chest, over his heart. She sobers as she considers her people, and how much trust has yet to be bridged—not only her own father and uncle, but the entire tribe. When she led him through the village, they called him wašíču.

Fat-taker. Greedy White. Not one of us.

“It will be hard for you here,” Mila says. She worries it will be too hard for Dean.  

He just squeezes her hand, earning her attention through tumultuous thoughts.

“I’m not afraid of a little hard work,” Dean replies. His usual confident charm is infused in his smile, but she has a feeling he’s just trying to reassure her.

Sensing she’s not convinced, Dean reaches up to hold her cheek, guiding her to look at him and not the floor.

“Listen. I made my choice, and I’m sticking it out, come hell or high water,” he says.

Mila’s brows knit together. “Hell-or-high… What does that mean?”

Dean sits up on his elbow along with her. He takes her chin between his fingers and meets her gaze.

“It means if you want me, you’ve got me. The rest, we’ll figure out as we go along,” he says.

A smile slowly lightens Mila’s face. She tilts her chin up to meet him with a kiss.

“I will be with you,” she says. It’s a promise.

Dean smiles back.

“Good,” he says. “Because that’s just about all I need.”

AN: There we have it, friends. 💜 I really, truly hope you enjoyed this mini series! To be honest, I have more ideas for this little world (like how Dean might try to assimilate into this culture), but I'll leave it to you guys to let me know if that's something you'd be interested in reading.

Until then, I would love to know what you thought of this chapter! 

Pronunciation Guide:

Šóta ("sho-tah") Chatan ("chat-tan") Tahatan ("ta-hat-tann") Wašíču ("wash-ee-jew")

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1437 - “I need your help; I have money to pay you.” - Lee Know (Stray Kids) - Hitman AU

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1437 - “I need your help; I have money to pay you.” - Lee Know (Stray Kids) - Hitman AU

Word count: 4k words

Wattpad | AO3

~

Writing Prompt 1437: “I need your help; I have money to pay you.” - Lee Know

~

This sucks. Minho thinks, letting out a large sigh and picking up some painkillers.

He hasn’t eaten much today, or the past few days, really, so it probably isn’t a good idea to take another ibuprofen on an empty stomach. He’s surely going to regret it, already feeling an impending stomach ache, but his head just hurts so badly. It won’t stop pounding.

He’s already tried drinking water, but oh, God, the white light coming from the ceiling is making everything worse. He really needs to take this pill.

The one thing he hasn’t tried is sleeping, but how could he sleep when there’s so much work to do?

A new file came in just today.

~

Kim Soo-ah, 25 years old. Picture attached.

Waitress: Mon-Fri 8:00-14:00 Endstreet 34, Cornerstone Diner

Maid: Mon-Sat 16:00-12:00 Client’s residence

Requirements: Eliminate target during Diner shift. Target wears a silver ring, has a small brown mole underneath. Send finger and ring as proof once you finish the job.

~

What did this girl do? Minho wonders. It’s the second request to finish off a maid he’s received from this client, but he was too busy for the first one, so he passed it over to one of his associates.

Although he dislikes working for this particular client, he always pays generously, so this time, he decides to accept it.

He’s a bit curious to know why his client keeps wanting to get rid of his maids. In case they heard something they shouldn’t have, it’d be much easier to silence them through other ways rather than killing them. Less of a hassle for Minho, at least. However, he can’t ask. That’s not his job.

His job is to simply follow these instructions to the best of his abilities and get paid. Nothing more, nothing less. Curiosity has no place in his line of business, and he’s better off not knowing any other details.

Before having enough time to flip the page and look at her photo, though, his door opens, making him raise his eyes from the papers.

“Boss, someone’s here to see you.” His assistant enters the room with haste, making Minho raise an eyebrow.

No one should know of this location, so he is taken aback for a few short moments, before clearing his throat and deciding that he must know who found him, and why.

“Show them in.” Minho instructs, and his assistant rushes outside.

Damn, this fucking white light. He groans again and decides to end his suffering and simply turn on the lamp on his desk, even though he forgot his glasses God knows where and he can barely see the papers in front of him.

Moments later, his assistant comes back with a woman small in stature. She has blonde, wavy hair reaching her shoulders, and her eyes are a deep shade of emerald green.

She is intimidated, Minho observes, as he sees the way this woman is trembling in front of him, anxiously playing with her fingers and looking left and right just to not look him in the eyes.

“Take a seat.” He orders, and the girl is quick to sit down in the chair he offered on the other side of his desk.

“Thank you…” She says, her voice so small, it almost comes out in a whisper.

“Now, who might you be?” Minho asks confidently, his tone slightly bored, although he’s actually brimming with curiosity.

“Uhm… my name is Soo-ah. Kim Soo-ah.” She replies hesitantly, and Minho immediately looks at the papers on his desk and grabs her picture, and oh, what a pleasant surprise.

It’s not every day that the prey comes directly to your doorstep.

“Are you perhaps… Lee Know? And if not… could you please take me to him?” She asks, and Minho raises his eyebrow again.

He notices her clutching her bag tightly. She is quite literally trembling with fear, which makes him want to laugh. She is so painfully afraid of being in the same room as him, he can’t help but want to play with her.

“That would be me.” He replies with a cocky smirk. “Why did you want to see me, pretty?”

“I… uhm… if I understood your… profession… correctly, that must mean you are a… hitman of some sort?” She tries to thread carefully, and Minho can’t help himself anymore. He lets out a chuckle at this girl’s innocence.

“You are correct, doll. So, what brings you here?”

“I need your help. There’s someone I’d like you to… uhm… to k- to kill. I-I have money to pay you. Uhm…” She stutters and starts rummaging through her bag, pulling out a few stacks of rolled hundreds. “I’m not sure how much your services cost, but…”

“How much is in there?” He asks, his eyes sparkling with excitement. The rolls are far too small, and too few. It can’t be more than a couple thousands, if that.

“Around $3000. It’s not much, but… it’s all I’ve managed to save up so far. If it costs more, I could get a loan, or-”

“$3000?” Minho cuts her off with a laugh. “You can’t be serious!”

The woman’s expression falls, her eyebrows furrowing in a frown.

“Pretty, that much isn’t enough for me to even cut off someone’s finger, let alone kill a whole person.”

“Oh… how much would it be, then?”

“That depends. Who’s the target?”

“My boss…” She clutches the bag tighter, telling him his name and address. Of course, he expected it to be his client, so this doesn’t really surprise him.

“Oh, love.” Minho chuckles again. “That man is one of the most powerful in the country, you must know since you’re working for him. Taking him out would cost millions. You wouldn’t afford it in this lifetime.”

Soo-ah looks away.

“Why don’t you tell me why you want this man dead?”

“I think he’s planning to get rid of me… Actually, I’m sure of it.”

“Why?” Minho inquires further.

“I… I saw something I shouldn’t have.” She replies, clenching her fists.

“Be more explicit, doll.” He says, and Soo-ah shifts in her seat uncomfortably. By her mannerisms, Minho can tell she finds this hard to talk about, or she doesn’t know if she should tell him at all.

She hesitates for a few more moments until she eventually starts speaking again.

“I am a live-in maid… I woke up to go to the bathroom and his room is on the way… the door was opened, and there were some very influential people and a large stack of cash on top of his desk. They saw me, so I ran away and hid. There was this other maid that told me about something she’s seen, and one day, she simply disappeared, so I was scared… I think that's what's going to happen to me too.”

“I see.” Minho nods. “Wrong place wrong time, huh?”

“Yeah…”

“So, how did you find me?”

“Much like last night, I went to the bathroom a few months ago and overheard a conversation-

“Damn, you should really stop going to the bathroom at night.” Minho jokes, cutting her off. She doesn’t seem too amused and resumes immediately.

“I overheard a conversation about hitmen, and my boss told someone a couple of names and addresses.”

“My name? What exactly did he say?”

“Yes. Your name and many others. Lee Know, Hwang, Yongbok…”

“Alright. And this address?”

“Yes. This is the only one I could remember… Considering this… topic… I didn’t really want to hear much else or risk him catching me overhear anything I shouldn’t, so I ran back to my room.” Soo-ah nods, and Minho leans back in his chair.

They found out where he is, which is bad news. Of course, he has many other secret hideouts throughout the city in case something like this would happen, but still. The fact that he didn’t know about it is dangerous. And apparently, this man also has some sort of information about his associates.

This is bad news.

The most relevant thing in his profession is secrecy. If anyone would know where to find him, he would’ve been dead long ago.

“Thank you, Soo-ah. That’s great information you offered me right there. However, just for future reference, information is not free. You just missed out on your chance to negotiate with me.” He chuckles menacingly, and her expression only falls more.

She doesn’t know what to say, but noticing Minho’s piercing gaze on hers, she decides to look him right in the eyes and do something she never thought she would.

She stands up and walks slowly around the desk, his eyes fixed on her, and she kneels in front of him, beginning to tear up.

“Please. I’m begging you. Please help me. I’ll do anything. I… I don’t want to die… I’m so scared, Mister Lee Know. Please.”

Minho is taken aback, and something in his heart stirs at the sight.

Memories he’s long-ago repressed start surfacing back, and instead of seeing her kneeling in front of him, he sees a young boy with bruises all over his body begging for his life.

~

“Mister, please. I’ll do anything. Please help me! I’m begging you, please! I want to live!” Minho was barely able to get out between his tears, his forehead pressing against the cold, bloodied tiles.

“And why would I help you, kid?” The man in front of him laughed. “You’re young and stupid. You’re good for nothing. What can you give me?”

“Anything! I’ll do anything!”

“Anything?” The man laughed one more. “Will you kill someone for me, then?”

“K-kill? Mister…”

“If you’re not ready to lead such a life, you have no use to me, kid. You’re better off dead.”

“N-no! I will! I will kill! Please teach me what to do, Mister! I will do it!”

“What an obedient child.” The man cackled. “You know what, kiddo? I admire your fighting spirit. Even though life dealt you shitty hands, you still want to live?”

“I do! I want to live, so please…”

“Get up. From now on, your name will be Lee Know. And Lee Know, your first lesson is to never kneel in front of anyone, no matter the reason. That’s how we do things around here. Got it?”

~

“What can you give me, Soo-ah?” He asks, but this time, his voice doesn’t come off amused or menacing. It’s soft and filled with slight concern, and more than anything, with curiosity.

“Anything. I will do anything…” She cries.

“Anything?” Minho asks, and it’s such a contrast to how his former boss treated him. He is not being unnecessarily mean about it, and he is not forcing an answer out of her, although their circumstances are much the same.

He stands up and walks towards her, noticing how bad she’s still shaking.

He knows she’s desperate. However… how desperate is she, really? She’s been trembling ever since she came through the door. It’s clear to him that she doesn’t have it in her to ever be a killer. But still, would she give up her principles to stay alive, or will she stick to them?

He didn’t have the power to stick to his principles on that cursed day way too many years ago, and his whole life changed afterwards. He could never back down.

Would she do the same?

“Anything.” She replies determined, still looking at the floor.

“Will you kill someone for me, then?” Minho asks closing his eyes, his former boss’ words ringing in his head.

“K-kill?” Soo-ah shakes. It’s so difficult to see his past self in this trembling woman.

“If you’re not ready to lead such a life, you have no use to me, Soo-ah. You’re better off dead.”

The words are burning his tongue as he notices all the air disappear from the woman’s lungs.

She begins crying even louder, her hands moving on top of his shoes, holding tightly. Still, she is still not looking up at him.

“I… I can’t. I can’t… I can’t kill anyone. Please understand. I can’t…” She keeps repeating like a broken record, and Minho’s eyes widen.

She decided to stick to her principles, after all. She is better than him.

“Then-” He starts, but she immediately cuts him off.

“He will kill me. I’m so scared… I’m so scared of him, Mister. What can I do if you won’t help me? What if he’ll torture me to find out exactly how much I heard and if I told anyone else? Fuck, what do I do now? My life must be worth at least $3000. Please… please help me…” She speaks weakly, clutching his shoes tighter.

“Soo-ah, look at me.” He requests, but she just keeps shaking and crying.

Minho grabs her arms and helps her stand up, forcing her to look him in the eyes.

“Do you really want to live?” He asks, and she nods her head rapidly.

“I do. I want to live.” She cries.

“I want you to listen to me very carefully. I can’t let Kim Soo-ah live.”

“What?” She blinks, confused for a short moment, until it clicks. “Did… did my boss ask you to kill me?”

“He did. I received your file just this morning.” Minho smiles softly, his eyes filled with sadness.

“Then… I guess this is it for me. I was… I was a fool to come here. I thought… I thought I still had a chance…” She replies dejected. “Months ago, when I heard those names, I didn’t think much of it. However, today… I didn’t know where to go or what to do. I ended up coming here and hoped that maybe, just maybe… if I were to randomly pick one of those names...” She stops speaking, wiping away her tears from her cheeks.

“How did you remember my name and address, though? If it was months ago…”

“My memory is pretty good. Not that it matters anymore.” She smiles sadly and averts her gaze. “I came to the wrong person. It’s alright. It’s… If there’s no other way, will you at least make it quick, Mister? I don’t want it to hurt…”

“Soo-ah.” He places his hands on her shoulders, making her look at him again. “I said, I can’t let Kim Soo-ah live. We’re going to kill her tonight, do you understand?”

“I’m… not sure I do.” She tilts her head.

“From this moment forwards, Kim Soo-ah is dead. You will have to change your hair and your eye colour, and I will give you a new name… What about… Lee Saera?” He suggests after thinking for a few moments, his eyes rolling up.

“Lee… Saera?”

“Mhm. Isn’t it pretty?”

“I like it… but… why? Why are you helping me?” She asks, confusion lacing her tone. “Why are you helping me when you’ve been ordered to kill me?”

“Pretty, no one can order me to do anything.” He chuckles. “I was hired to kill you. But let’s just say… there’s something of me I found in you. Something long forgotten…” Minho replies, separating himself from her and putting his hands in his pockets. “I can’t kill your boss, but I can make sure he believes you’re dead, and in return… you will tell me everything you know about him, and everything he knows about us. You will stay here and help me.”

“Mister Lee Know, I can’t… I can’t kill people.” She whispers with a frown.

“And you won’t. You won’t walk down this path. I will do the killing, and you will do everything else I ask you to, in exchange for your life. How does that sound?”

He extends a hand towards her, and she doesn’t hesitate to grab it with both her hands and shake it.

“Thank you, Mister Lee Know. Thank you. Truly.” She looks him in the eyes, and Minho can tell she’s genuinely grateful. A small thought passed through his head that she could be a spy, but her feelings seem so genuine, he doesn’t doubt her one bit. She is just an unfortunate, young woman, who happened to work for the wrong people and heard and saw too much.

“Minho… Call me Minho, Soo-ah.”

“Minho?”

“Mhm. That’s my real name. Lee Minho. Use it only when we’re alone, and I will call you Kim Soo-ah. When anyone else is present, though, you are Saera and I am Lee Know, got it?”

“Yes, sir.” She nods.

“Good girl.” He smiles and pats her head two times. “Now, the first lesson you must learn if you are to join me, is… never kneel in front of anyone, no matter the reason. Not even me. Got it?”

“Okay... But Minho… how will you make my boss think I died?”

“Oh, right.” He sighs, grabbing her hand and dragging his fingers on top of her silver ring, taking it off and looking at the small mole underneath. “Soo-ah, your boss asked me to give him your finger as proof of killing you.”

“My… my finger?” She immediately snatches her hand back and looks at how closely Minho is examining her ring.

“Mhm. However…” Since she is now one of his people, he doesn’t want to hurt her. Not even a scratch. He doesn’t tell her that, though, because he doesn’t think he’ll have a choice.

How should he navigate this? Should he try and find a body with a matching mole? But what if they were to run any DNA tests?

“My ring… is a family heirloom. It’s extremely precious to me.” She speaks, interrupting his train of thoughts. “What if we would burn something and put the ring in the ashes as proof?”

“Oh?” Minho raises an eyebrow. “But what would we tell him to be convincing enough?”

“You found me hiding somewhere, and… I don’t know. You killed me, took my body to be incinerated to remove evidence, but almost got caught, so you burned it and brought back the ashes as proof?”

“I’m not sure that’ll fly with this guy, Soo-ah…”

“Then…” She raises her hand hesitantly in the air, and Minho sees how much she’s trembling. “Cut it… cut it off. It’s okay. It’ll hurt, but I’ll be alive, so…”

He shakes his head. He truly doesn’t want to hurt this woman for some reason. She doesn’t deserve to be hurt like this, not by him, not by anyone.

Still, there’s nothing he can do. Her former boss is a ruthless man, and he won’t believe him one bit if he were to just bring him her ring. He needs more proof than that.

“Soo-ah, will you forgive me if I hurt you deliberately?” He asks after a little while.

“Yes.” She answers without missing a beat. “You spared my life. You can cut it off, Minho. I will survive this.”

Despite her determined words, Minho knows she is just putting on a façade. She is scared, she is shaking, and he feels so bad. He’s never felt like this before, no matter who he had to kill. However, the prospect of causing this woman any sort of physical pain makes him feel terrible. He doesn’t want to do it, but if he is to prove he’s killed her, he must hurt her.

Minho grabs his phone from the desk and calls his assistant to bring in the doctor, and after ending the call, he grabs her hand and holds onto it tightly for a moment.

“I’m sorry. I am so sorry.” He speaks softly as he pulls out a knife from his pocket.

Her whole body is shaking, and she shuts her eyes tight.

“I won’t cut off your whole finger. I’ll only cut off enough skin to use as proof, and I’ll take your ring. Alright?”

“... Yes.” She whispers, anticipating the impending pain.

Minho takes in a deep breath as he presses the blade into her skin, listening closely to Soo-ah’s sounds. She places her other hand on top of her mouth and tries to be as quiet as possible as the blade rips through her skin.

She fights the urge to jerk her hand back, not that it would be possible with Minho’s strong hold of her wrist and finger.

“There. We’re done.” He speaks hurriedly as he grabs a clean cloth and covers her hand, pressing tightly on the wound. “The doctor will be here soon. Are you alright?”

“It hurts so bad.” She cries out in pain and Minho pulls her closer, hugging her tightly.

“It hurts, I know. But you are alive, and that’s all that matters. You are alive.”

“I am alive.” She repeats and hugs him back, and she can’t believe that so much could happen to her in a span of a day.

She wishes she would’ve never applied to that job. She wishes she would’ve never worked for that terrible man, but she got blinded by the large sum of money he offered, and she took the offer without any further thoughts on the matter, and she truly regrets it now. She always seems to only make bad choices.

The doctor comes in and cleans the wound, informing both of them that thankfully, it’s not large enough to require a skin graft. He is able to stitch it shut, although he informs Soo-ah that it will inevitably scar.

A scar is a small price to pay for her life, she thinks.

Left alone once more with Minho, she doesn’t know what to do. She stays silent and tries her hardest to stop crying and observes as he begins clearing off his desk.

“Soo-ah, you can sit down until I’m done.” He informs her, so she nods and heads back to the chair she sat in previously.

“What are you doing?” She asks after a little while.

“We need to go. This place is no longer safe, since your boss knows about it. I will also need to call my associates and let them know they should relocate.”

“And then… what?”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

“What will happen to me?”

“I told you, haven’t I? We’ll get you a fake ID, change your appearance completely, and then… we’ll see. I still need to think about which tasks to give you, since you’re so…” Minho looks at her and stops, making her raise her eyebrows in surprise.

“I’m so… what?” She tilts her head to the side.

“So… righteous and innocent. I don’t even know what to do with you. You seem like you’d tremble and cry at the slightest mention of a murder.” He replies, and as if on cue, a shiver runs down her spine at the thought of potentially seeing a dead body, and she shakes.

“I’m sorry, I…”

“Don’t apologise for being this way, Soo-ah. There’s nothing wrong with you.” He sighs. There really isn’t. Not everyone is made for this life, and he knows it. But unfortunately, some good people are forced into living like this, and she is one of them.

“I’ll do my best to not inconvenience you…”

“You can do some housework or… I don’t know. We’ll see.”

“Or… as I told you, my memory is pretty good. If you’re stumped with work and have too many documents to check, or information about anyone… I can read all of them for you and just summarize. I will certainly remember everything.” She suggests, and Minho smiles softly.

“That's good to know. But for now, let’s just get out of here, hm? We’ll see what tomorrow brings.”

“Alright.” She nods and smiles back. "Once we go to the new hideout... you should get some rest, Minho."

"Hm?"

"You seem tired... like you haven't slept in a while." She says, and Minho can't help but smile. She is observant.

"Alright. I'll make sure to sleep once we leave this place." He replies, and she smiles satisfied.

Soo-ah is glad that coming to him ended up being the good choice – the only good choice she’s ever made, she believes. She wonders how she could trust him so much in such a short amount of time.

Still, she trusts him, and he seems to trust her too, and she is alive. That’s all that matters.

~The End~

[almondmilkcleanser]

𝐒𝐮𝐛𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐀𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 — 05

SYNOPSIS - curiousity has played its role well with you - leaving you in between pleasure's whirlwind with the Phantomhive's most cunning, most skilled butler. How will you handle this arrangement?

■ ` ♡ characters / fandom ; f!reader x sebastian michaelis - kuroshitsuji + in a binding agreement

■ ` ♡ tw ; MINORS DNI

main menu | one-shots menu | chapter one | masterlist

■ ` ♡ VIP GUESTS TO THE MEAL ↷@preciousamethyst @crow-like-shiny-things @chrollohearttags @muvaginger @justaproudslytherpuff @kookie-vuitton @starstarbinks @flxxrence @urbunniebaby @nocturessa @neko-michaelis @maidensblessing @aiyaaayei

■ ` ♡ A/N → YKTV! Plagiarism not allowed. Please excuse any spelling/grammar mistakes

You admired your figure from all angles in your new attire. A fitted dress shirt, ruffled at the collar, and, what appeared to the naked eye, a particular black skirt. But Nina had something up her sleeve. She always did. She crafted the inner hem of your skirt to slit up your thigh in any event you needed to flee. In the cufflinks of your blouse carried holsters for small weapons just in case of emergency or urgency she repeated over and over. 

The inner layer of your blouse was double stitched, secure enough to shield your delicate bits from even the nastiest of exposures. But none of that held your attention.

“The fabric feels so rich! So soft and-” you inhaled the hem of your collar, sighing in deep admiration. Sebastian, nonchalantly sifting through a newspaper, looked up at you, smirked, and continued to look down. “Is that vanilla! No-” snif “Tangerine! Nina I love this! I don’t know how i could ever repay you.”

Nina plopped the excess fabric that weighed her shoulders down on the large Oak table. She plopped a finger on her bottom lip, her mind racing on an option. By how calculative she looked at you, you almost regretted even offering the option to her.

“Ah!” Sebastian clenched the newspaper, his nerves at a jolt. “I’ve got it!” this time, Sebastian narrowed his eyes at NIna as he looked over the newspaper.

“Must you conduct yourself like you’re standing in the center of a coliseum. We’re all right- here.” Nina puffed her cheeks, crossed her arms, and stared darts back at Sebastian. The invisible bolts of lightning became visible as the pair shared equally dissatisfied glances.

“Anywho!” NIna turned up her nose. “I’ll make you a deal. Come to my shop and model for me. I’ll give you the mock outfits every time I’m finished. And in return I’ll have a bunch of designs for the upcoming spring catalogue!” Nina snickered at her marvelous plan, sending Sebastian’s eyes to the back of his head. He neatly folded the newspaper and stood to his feet, clearing his throat signaling that it was time. 

“Well, I think that would be enough of that.” he stood to his feet. “The Young Master will decide on those arrangements, until then you should expect his company in the near future.” you could practically see the steam coming out of Nina’s ears.

“Sebastian.” you chimed up. Both Sebastian and NIna glanced at you. “I-” Why so many eyes on me?! “I think it would be a great idea.” you pretended to carry an air of confidence about yourself. Hopefully nobody saw through it like a translucent mirror. “What better way to expand the Phantomhive reach than to show to England that he helped assemble such fine fashion.” You took a step forward and spun around in a circle, giving Sebastian a full view of you from the front, the side, and an even longer glance from behind. 

When you turned back to face him, a beaming self-assured smile on your face, you could see his eyes snake from the bottom up. He had to remember that Nina was, with broad apprehension on her face and a mouth full of bitten fingernails, looking on to see his answer. He merely smirked as he walked to the door to hold it open for you.

“If it isn’t so much trouble for Y/N, i’ll see that she comes to visit you twice a month. No more. No less. Now, if you’ll excuse us, Nina.” He extended his hand out the door, and you took not a second too long to nod your head in thanks to Nina and hurry out of the shoppe. You and Sebastian weren’t but a few feet away, but you could hear Nina’s exasperated shouts of glee from inside the shop.

You followed at Sebastian’s side closely, careful not to bump into the other passerbys. So many muted colors of black, grey, brown, and the occasional tweed. It almost bored you to tears seeing the English fashion. On occasion, you would see a lady dawned in a damp violet or, if you’re lucky, baby blue! You scoffed aloud.

“Something troubling you?” Sebastian asked. 

“No, its just- seeing everyone out and about performing the mundane and dressing to match is so-”

“English. I know.” he agreed. “But we have to remember that everyone here is at a mentionable status. A figurehead, so to speak. “ He tapped his chin with a hmm. Trying to find the right words without being too boorish in his approach. But truthfully Sebastian grew so bored and so tired of it from time to time as well. Such mundane practices, day in and day out. No end in sight. How atypical the human experience could be in his eyes. And yet individuals could so happily continue on these practices for the sake of appearances every day, and then they die.

How damned is that.

“Its more complicated than what it seems.” you didn’t really buy his response, but at the moment you didn’t care that much. 

“Say, Sebastian.” you started up again. “What are we doing in the city anyway?”

“Just walking around.” eh?! “While you and the Young Master were still sleeping, I took it upon myself to venture into town. I delivered a few packages, paid off a few patrons, obtained some documents, petted a few kittens, gathered intel-”

“Wait. We’re not going to scurry past that statement, Sebastian.” you fought down a chuckle. “Did you say you were petting kittens? How does such an elegant butler like yourself find time to pet animals?”

Sebastian fixed his tie, averting his eyes away from you. “You always find time for simple pleasures.” His lips curled into a smile as he imagined you at your most vulnerable. You must have caught wind at his inner musings, for you looked away in a huff, your cheeks warm to touch.

“I’d remember to keep some questions of curiosity to myself.”

“Quite.” he so snidely agreed. You looked up at Sebastian who still beared a faint blush post-confession. You tried to play it off like you were clearing your throat, but even Sebastian could pick up the chortle underneath your hacking. 

A few taps at the top of the carriage, and the two of you were on your way back home.

❈❈❈ 

You sat across from Sebastian, a fresh basket of bread and lilies warming your lap. Your feet were tired from walking all around the city, but for whatever reason you didn’t mind it. Sebastian took it upon himself to guide you around the more elite sectors of the city. Introducing you to the more exclusive airs that England had to offer. 

The finest winery, elusive bakeries that had waiting lists to get inside, private dance studios that children of the elite would come and learn the arts. Ballet, poetry, fencing, you name it. With being apart of the Phantomhive manor, one could redeem many perks and coin in many, many favors throughout the years. And today, you finally realized just how much power the Phantomhives held. 

When you walked in with Sebastian, people recognized the Phantomhive insignia in an instant. And, like clockwork, people would move out of your way. They would bow their heads. They would proclaim high praises for Sir Vincent. So on and so forth. 

Luckily for you two, a bread and sweets bakery along your route just so happened to have fresh batches readily available for the two of you. Sebastian declined for himself, but instead fetched four large loaves of bread for you. You could smell its freshness and feel its warmth on your lap, making your stomach growl out of turn. 

“I can’t wait to have this with some tea when we get back.”

“I’m sure the Young Master would love a piece himself.” Sebastian mentioned thoughtfully. 

“Would you like some?” he raised his eyebrow at you. “W-while its still hot of course.”

“I’m afraid I would have to decline. But,” he moved from one side of the cart to the other, sitting next to you with both of your knees touching. He moved the basket off your lap and onto his.

“I’d like to feed you some.” You tried to stop the gasp that came out of your mouth, but it was too late. Sebastian faced you head on, his gloved hands breaking off a piece of bread into near-perfect meticulous pieces. 

“You’re hungry. And unless you’d like to cause me trouble back at the manor, I’d liike for you not to fall unconscious during the remainder of your shift today.” Shit, do you really have to work more after running such a llong errand? 

“I am hungry but- this isn’t necessary, Sebastian. I-” While your mouth was open, he took the opportunity to stuff your cheeks with warm, buttery bread. The soft, fluffy texture melted in your mouth, making you close your eyes to savor each bite. When he saw you were finished, he popped another piece of bread into your mouth, and with eyes still closed, you moaned in satisfaction at the craftsmanship performed on each delicate piece! 

This was far different than the, sometimes old, and sometimes soggy, pieces of bread you would accumulate before working for the manor. How you would go days without an adequate meal or, when you did, you would hand it off to someone else that seemed to need it more. Now, here you were, being fed bread by a demon butler that you signed a sexual contract with in a lavish carriage. 

Who knew your adult years could take such an aspiringly pivotal turn. Right off a cliff. 

“One more.” you requested. Your plushy mouth was already foming a narrowed ‘O’, preparing for the next savory bite. “One more and I think I’ll be satisfied.”

“Is that so?” Sebastian smirked reassuringly. He tapped the top of the carriage 4 times, causing the coachman to slow down to a halt. You just assumed he stopped to check on the luggage sitting behind him. Unknowingly to you, the coachman, under what seemed like a sleepy trance, hopped off the carriage and wandered into the forest. He muttered incoherently to himself, his walk staggering left and right. But he continued to walk until there was only a hushed rustling of bushes, until eventually nothing was heard and nothing was en route to cross your paths. 

“Keep your eyes closed.” his dark, silky voiced dropped to a whisper. He fished around in the basket for a new piece as you sat there, eyes playfully closed, anticipating another piece until-

“Mmh!” You felt his cool, soft lips press against yours. He held you by your shoulders, pinning your back against the plush carriage chairs. His knee pushed between your legs, raising your skirt inch by inch until it was bunched around your upper thighs. 

You could feel his hunger. His want. His need for you. How taunting it was for you to be in arm’s length all day and he could only watch and wait. He could only imagine what it was like to have you sprawled across your bed, your wanting eyes tracing the outline of his silhouette, body and mind crying out for his touch. 

But seeing you, with such an unquenchable thirst building in the back of hsi throat, made him pounce. He pressed his fingers into your blouse, intensifying the kiss moment by moment. Your tongues latched onto eachother, playing a friendly game of tug and war. He broke the kiss, practically growlingin your ear as he kissed the base of your neck. 

You threw your head back into a moan. “Sebastian, we’re out in the open.” He swiftly unbuttoned your blouse and unlatched the front of your  bra. His eyes never met yours. “Someone could see us, Sebastian.” his long, rugged tongue latched around your erect nipples, pulling and suckling at your sensitive flesh, causing your own moans to escalate. The lust in your body grew at an increasing rate. The warmth of your pussy burning a hole in between your expensive stockings. 

“Sebastian-” he stopped your worrying with another kiss. His gloved hands cradling your breasts and circling them around and around. You succumbed, wrapping your arms around his neck to deepen the kiss. He pulled your stockings down to your ankles, adjusting his body so that you were on under him and his body was hovered over yours.

You almost forgot that you were in a carriage how accommodating and flexible Sebastian was. 

He freed one of your feet from its nylon prisons and bent your knee to your chest. With his eyes to yours, he popped his middle and ring finger into his mouth with a smile. Coating it with his saliva from base to tip. 

“You’re so beautiful when you look at me like that.” Your glistening eyes spoke a silent message to Sebastian. How you switched from being such a strong-willed, determined woman to one of a needy, luscious, and smoldering one turned his head upside down. To see you, staring at him with Bambi eyes as you begged, pleaded for his throbbing cock to fill you up just drove him into an animalistic headspace. 

“Sebastian,” you breathed. Your honey-riddled tones so sweet. You felt him split you open, filling you inch by inch. Sebastian groaned aloud at your tightness, his own face breaking out into a light sweat. You shuddered underneath his touch. His large thumb circled around your throbbing clit, pressing down as he entered you back and forth. Back and forth. Back and fucking forth. 

“Oh- God! P-please, Sebastian!” on instinct you grabbed his wrist with one hand, your orgasm budding and blooming the more he played with you. He pushed your hand away, pinning it atop your head, his knees opening your legs wider and wider. Your viscous nectar replaced his spittled fingers, creating a sloshed, slicked mixture that coated your inner thighs, ass cheeks and the carriage chairs. 

“You’re so warm, and so- so wet. Is this all for me?” In a tease, he pulled his fingers out of you, gleefully popping them in his mouth. He took both fingers, and opened his mouth so you could see him trace them on his tongue. Your sticky essence creating lines across his tongue and atop the roof of his mouth.

He leaned down to kiss you so you two could savory your flavor together. As your tongues interlocked again, he fished his member out of his trousers. The droplets of pre-cum dripped against your inner thigh, mixing with your juices, and slowly sliding down your thigh. 

“Dammit-” he breathed. “I’m going to enjoy this. I’m most positively going to enjoy you, as well. He smiled down at you, his demonic fangs protruding out the sides of his mouth. He pushed inside of you, groaning aloud at your warmth. Your wetness. Your everboding grip around his thickness. He had to catch himself. Closing his eyes and clearing his throat to refrain from exploding so soon. 

“Sh- Shi- Sebastian, you’re s- so deep. Please don’t tease me anymore~” you could almost feel Sebastian’s body shift. The air in the carriage grew thick, heavy, and taunting. You looked up at him and swallowed as he looked down at you and grinned. He pushed back your other knee to your chest, positioned himself again, and proceeded to move inside of you.

At first, his movements were slow, calculative, and considerate. But then, when he looked down at you, and how snug your pussy clenched onto him, a side of him came further and further to the front. He pressed his hands into your hips, leaving flesh-like indents around your ass. He slammed his hips into you, making you feel every inch of him. He stretched you open, giving you and your pussy limited time to relax and contract. He wanted all of you. Right here, right now.

“Ah! F- fu- fuck, Sebastian! You’re so deep inside of me-e-e~” You could feel your pussy creating new gateways for him to explore. You felt her stretch, contract, bend and mold to his every want and wish. An end not even being a question between you two. 

Droplets of your fluid splashed into the air as he continued to pound into you. Your juices coated his dick alll the way to the base of his pelvis, even dripping down onto his balls. He could feel you clenching, pulling him down deeper into the depths of yourself. 

“Good heavens, Y- Y/N, why are you so incredibly wet like this?” he pushed deep inside of you, keeping it there as he leaned down to kiss your neck, leaving subtly sized hickies along your neck. “Did you miss me that much? Hmm?”  letting go of your knees, he positioned both of his arms along the side of your head, balancing himself on his elbows. He kept his chest pinned down to you and proceeded to stroke again inside of you. He wanted to feel all of you. ever y crevice, every groove, every bend he wanted to claim it as his. 

You couldn’t help it anymore. Your voice cried out in perverse pleasure as he rammed in you. Circling his hips back and forth at a momentum that wasn’t of this world. He kept drilling you, begging to go deeper into you, thrashing your love nest, embedding an impression on your body that none other would be able to match. You wrapped your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck.

“G- gonna cum, Sebastian- Go- gonna cuuuuuum-” He responded simply by kissing your dampened cheek. 

“By all means, let it out.”

“You’re so beautiful when you cum.”

Damn that Sebastian! You wished he wasn’t so skillful but your body readily thanked him. Your eyes flew open, only to roll to the back of your head. Your body spasmed, a mixture of small to large thrashes overcame your hips. 

Your essence coated his dick, sliding down between your ass and staining the plushed seats underneath you.

“I love it when you spill all over me. F-fuck, that’s right. Let it all out, Y/N. It's not good to be so- fuc- pent up like this~”

As you continued your orgasm, thick globs of Sebastian’s cum came oozing out of you, your sticky fluids and his thick essence creating gel-like globs that seemed to seep out at a nonstop pace. 

He kissed your lips one more time, catching your breathless quivers, guiding you back down from your peak.

You’re so beautiful when you cum.

❈❈❈ 

“Do I really have to help Mei-Rin with the cleaning?” you buttoned up your shirt with a whine. Your hair was disheveled. Droplets of sweat were still resting on your cheeks and chin, and your body felt heavy. 

“Only for the first hour. We can’t make it obvious what we were doing as soon as we get back.” He balled up the leg of your stockings, crouching down to slide them on your feet and up your thigh. “If I were you, Y/N. I would enjoy that hour of freedom.”

“Oh? Why is that?”

“Because, according to our terms, I’m liable to redeem a full day with you as per our agreement.” Shit.

“B-but, in this carr- you’re not tired?!” Sebastian chuckled to himself.

“On the contrary, Y/N” his eyes flickered a warm auburn from his demonic red.

“I’m just getting warmed up. So.. Make sure you stretch.” he winked at you, knocking on the top of the carriage 4 times again. This time, the coachman shouted at the horse, and they were on the move again.

“Was he there the whole time?!”

“A fairly late response considering the deed is already done, don’t you think?”

to be continued.....

❈❈❈ 

A/N — plssss leave a comment, like and reblog! It really helpssss

[torturedlexdepartment]

U Love U - Part 2

Rudy Pankow x fem reader

Warnings: SMUT, fuckboy Rudy, fingering, oral (fem and male receiving), rough sex

Summary: you aren't pleased when you run into Rudy at a party with someone else

Two weeks of agony. Two weeks of beating yourself up. Two weeks of regrets. Two weeks of hating him. Two weeks of going through a breakup that only existed on your side of things. You allowed yourself to be pathetic for the first week. Texting, calling, praying for any type of response that never came. But this last week you had enough. You knew it was over. He was never coming around and you were determined to find a way to be okay with that.

When you had heard there was a party tonight, you put on your sluttiest dress and spent extensive time dolling yourself up. You took one last look in the mirror and hopped in your car. You had a one track mind when you finally reached your destination. When you entered the house, you were greeted by tons of acquaintances, most you had known from high school and college. One of them paid extra attention to you and it wasn’t hard to figure out what was on his mind when you caught his eyes constantly scanning up and down your body.

“Can I get you a drink?” He asked and you quickly nodded. You watched as he disappeared into the kitchen and searched the living room for a place to sit. You spotted an empty spot on a couch next to a couple that was making out. You didn’t want to bother them so you tried to be as subtle as possible when you snuck onto the couch, trying to give them as much space as possible.

“Do you mind?” The girl snapped and your eyes met hers, but quickly darted to the guy she was straddling.

“Son of a fucking bitch.” You seethed as you stood up.

“Y/N!” Rudy yelled as you walked off in the direction of the kitchen.

“Fuck you!.” You screamed without looking back. You hadn’t even thought it was a possibility to run into Rudy here. If you even thought there was a chance, you probably wouldn’t have come. You tried hard to compose yourself as you searched for the guy that was getting your drink. You didn’t even know his name but when you spotted him digging in the refrigerator, you quickly grabbed his hand and pulled him away from the crowded kitchen.

“Woah, what’s going on?”

“Let’s go upstairs.” You blurted out over the music and before he could respond, you were practically dragging him up the stairs. You quickly found the closest unoccupied bedroom and pulled him inside, slamming the door behind you. Without a second thought, you pushed him down onto the bed and slid to your knees. You reached for his belt and heard him curse under his breath.

“Jesus, you don’t waste time do you?” He teased and you gave him a smirk. A loud knock on the door interrupted you just as you were about to pull down his pants.

“It’s occupied!” You yelled before returning to your actions. You had no time to get further before someone was bursting through the door. You knew you should have locked it.

“What the fuck is this?” Rudy yelled.

“Dude, get the fuck out!” The nameless guy yelled and you barely had time to get out of the way before Rudy was grabbing him by his shirt and dragging him out the door.

“What the fuck is your problem?” You screamed as he pushed the guy outside and slammed the door in his face, locking the door before he turned to face you.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing here Y/N?” He asked in a softer tone, visibly trying to calm himself down.

“It’s none of your business. Who exactly do you think you are barging in on me and running off my date?” You shot back and your heart felt like it dropped to your ass when you watched the expression on his face change to something you had never seen before.

“The only guy you’re fucking getting on your knees for is me.” He growled as he stormed towards you. You pushed him back, fighting the temptation to slap him across the face when he laughed at you.

“What you and I had going on is over. You made that perfectly clear two weeks ago. You don’t get to just change your mind when you see me with someone else. It doesn’t work that way Rudy. You don’t fucking own me.” You exclaim, fighting tooth and nail with yourself to hold back the tears starting to form in the corner of your eyes.

“I’ll tell you what I own sweetheart.” He closed the distance and the part of you that wanted to stop him was nowhere to be found when he pushed you down on the bed and hovered over the top of you. “I own these lips.” He whispers as he glides his thumb over your bottom lip, causing a hitch in your throat. “I own these tits.” His hand slides down the front of your dress and you whimper as he rolls your nipples in between his fingers. “And most importantly.” He teases as his hands trail down your body until they reach the bottom of your dress. You gasp when his fingers caress your inner thigh, trailing all the way until his hand fully cups you. “I own this pussy and she knows it.” His fingers push your panties to the side and you moan when he pushes two of them inside of you.

You couldn’t think about how badly he had broken your heart just two weeks prior. Or how you swore you’d never allow yourself to feel that low again. You couldn’t think of anything except the fact that he was on top of you, curling his fingers in a manner that turned you into putty in his hands as he edged you.

“Rudy.” You whined and he smirked before slotting his lips over yours. He kissed you softly, much softer than he ever had like he was purposely trying to fuck with your head. He slipped his tongue into your mouth as he increased the pace in which his fingers were moving inside of you. You were right on the edge and he knew your body like the back of his hand so he knew just the right moment for him to stop. He pulled away from you with the same smirk on his face as you glared at him.

“Come here.” He ordered as he stood up off the bed. You did as you were told, standing in front of him, waiting for further instruction. “Turn around.” You faced the bed as you felt his hands on your back. He slowly pulled the zipper down on your dress and you let it fall to the floor, leaving you in only your red lace panties. He spun you around to face him, eyeing you up and down briefly before grabbing you by the back of your hair and forcing you on your knees.

“Blow me like you were gonna blow him.” He growled as he quickly worked to free himself from his jeans. The tip of his cock was red and angry, desperate to feel the warmth your mouth would provide. You opened your mouth, sticking out your tongue and you hummed around his shaft when he inched all the way to the back of your throat. He groaned and wrapped his hand around your hair even tighter, tugging at it as you traced every ridge of his dick with your tongue. You sucked him down hard and deep and eventually, you let him take control so he could fuck your face. Saliva pooled out the sides of your mouth as you tried to focus on anything other than the fact that you were one thrust away from gagging on his cock. “Always such a good girl for me, aren’t you?” He praised as he continued his merciless pace. Before he could utter another word, the familiar salty taste of his spend was coating your mouth and spilling down your throat. You swallowed around him, trying to savor every drop as he finally came to a halt.

When he withdrew from your mouth, he was quick to pull you up and forced you back onto the mattress. His fingers dipped into the waistband of your panties and pulled the material down your legs. He spread your legs wide and quickly dropped to his knees, burying his face in your needy pussy.

“Oh. Fuck!” You whined as he feasted on you. He flicked his tongue over your clit rapidly as he shoved three thick fingers inside of you. Your back arched when they found that sweet spot that took you to heaven and you clung to the comforter for dear life.

“There’s my girl. Always so desperate for me huh? My fingers, my tongue, my cock.” He taunted as he continued fucking you with his fingers, curling them enough to have you sceaming for him. He spits on your pussy before diving back in, flicking your clit a few times before closing his mouth over it and sucking gently. “I’m cumming.” You gasp as you finally hit your peak. You feel him smile into your pussy as you come down, trying to pull away from him as the overstimulation takes over any pleasure you were feeling. “Rudy.” You beg and he finally releases your clit and pulls his fingers from inside of you. He kisses the insides of your thighs before standing up to remove all of his clothes.

He slowly crawls onto the bed, spreading your legs as wide as possible so he can rest in between them. He fists his cock, pumping it back to life before slapping your sensitive clit with it. You hiss out in pain and he smiles before aligning himself and forcing himself inside of you in one single thrust.

“How bad have you missed me baby? You’re already squeezing me so fucking tight.” He grunts as he comes down on top of you, quickly snapping his hips forward as you cling onto his back. He buries his face in your neck and bites you, causing you to slide your hands up to his hair and tug until he’s growling in your ear. “I better not see you with anyone else every again Y/N, I fucking mean it.” He warns as he continues fucking you like it’s the last time he will ever be inside of you.

“If you can fuck around, so can I.” You spit out in between moans and he takes you by surprise by wrapping his hand around your throat.

“I’m not fucking around sweetheart.” He growls before capturing your lips. You kiss him back with the same intensity and he releases his grip.

“Neither am I Rudy. If you’re not gonna stop, then this is the last fucking time.” You say in the steadiest tone you can muster and you swear you could see a smirk forming on his face.

“Yeah, we’ll see about that, won’t we.” He taunts and before you know it, you’re on your hands and knees cursing yourself for ever leaving the house that night.

[flipomatic]

A New Normal

Word Count: 2100

Summary: So Caitlyn took that moment, the one Vi so generously offered to her, to write another line on her paper before gently placing her left hand over Vi’s. A second later their fingers intertwined, fitting together exactly as they should be. Soon after Caitlyn could feel Vi’s head rest against her shoulder, nestling in place as she continued to work. For a few minutes, only the scratch of her pen broke the silence.

Vi being here like this, even late at night when she was crazy enough to get out of bed and work, was a change, a new normal that Caitlyn longed to continue.

Author Note: Spoilers for the end of Arcane. I have a lot of thoughts about the series, so I wanted to reflect on it just a bit. Kind of a character study of Caitlyn, but not deep enough to really be a proper character study.

___________________________________________________________

In theory, what was an itch? A temporary annoyance or distraction, something that could be remedied with a quick scratch. It was an urge that could easily be fixed.

But what if it couldn’t be, if the itch, like so much else, was beyond Caitlyn’s reach. Trapped behind the eye patch it lingered and waited for the worst moments to pounce.

Caitlyn opened her remaining eye slowly, blurrily looking up at the dark ceiling. Opening only one eye was still a strange feeling no matter how many times she did it. It also did nothing to relieve the burning itch beneath the surface of the other side, the desperate screaming of her skin as it slowly healed.

The doctor had told her, in no uncertain terms, that any dirt or contact with the injury could lead to an infection and even death. No matter how badly it seared at its peak—which it bloody did now—that feeling would pass. The only thing Caitlyn could do was wait.

Of course it picked the middle of the night to act up. Caitlyn turned her head to the side, towards the other occupant of her bed. Vi’s shoulders were barely visible against the dim streetlamp light from the window and even the vibrancy of her tousled hair was faded in the darkness. With each breath she took her form moved ever so slightly, rising and falling in the same repetitive motion. Caitlyn still marveled that they were both alive.

She would never forget Vi finding her in the medical tent after the battle, collapsing in her arms and sobbing for Jinx. When Vi calmed down enough to explain what happened, how Jinx had sacrificed herself to save her one last time, the weight of that action sent a chill down Caitlyn’s spine. The last time she’d talked to Jinx was at the jail cell, where Jinx asked Caitlyn to kill her. Now she was dead. News that would’ve once been a sign of victory was now the opposite. Caitlyn pulled Vi even closer, the tears from her right eye dripping onto Vi’s shoulder.

Later as she turned over a small monkey grenade head in her hand and looked through the Hextower blueprints, she’d had to reassess those feelings. The idea that Jinx could have escaped through the air ducts, a system she knew nearly as well as Caitlyn did, was a distinct possibility.

As she wondered where the ever-elusive Jinx could have gone, the itching behind her eyepatch finally began to subside. It eased from a raging torrent to a slightly more manageable thrum, still present but much more tolerable.

Caitlyn shifted her body and closed her eye once more, willing sleep to return to her. She breathed deeply, slowly, trying to push those thoughts from her mind.

They were replaced instead by other events of that day. The fighting at the gates stuck with her too, and not just because she lost her eye in the conflict. Teaming up with Mel to fight Ambessa, using her magic to finally overpower the woman who had always been and indomitable obstacle in her path. Caitlyn took all of her regrets over her past actions into the battle, wielded them with her spear. The sacrifice to take Ambessa down had been worth it.

As for others at the gate, the many who had died in the fight, Caitlyn preferred not to think about them. Despite that desire they continued to haunt her.

Opening her eye with a sigh and a grimace, she gave up on the battle with sleep. She slipped silently from the bed with practiced ease, feet moving gingerly against the cold floor. Vi didn’t so much as stir at the disturbance.

Caitlyn left her there to sleep, taking measured steps out of the bedroom and down the main stairs. She had walked this path thousands of times before, but seeing it with only one eye like this, her perspective skewed, made them feel foreign to her. That feeling stayed with her until she reached the library, where she lit a candle on the low table. Its glow illuminated the mountain of papers waiting for her.

If she couldn’t sleep, she might as well work.

The first pile of papers belonged to enforcer applicants, citizens who wanted to sign up after the battle. Caitlyn had started a new recruitment drive almost immediately, trying to fill the gaps left by the battle. Of course, none of those spaces could be completely filled. Each person left their own unique shaped hole behind.

But the patrol shifts still needed to be run, and for that applicants needed to be vetted. There was nobody left to do it besides Caitlyn.

She held the papers up one by one near the candle, reading through each person’s qualifications and combat experience. Most were from the topside, with only a few from the undercity. Even though that was expected, it was still disappointing to see. Things were changing slowly.

Of all the applications, there was also notably no application from Vi. Caitlyn had wondered if she would rejoin the enforcers but hadn’t pressured her or even asked her about it. It seemed she had her answer.

One by one Caitlyn sorted them into piles to review again the next day. Some would make fine enforcers while others, well, needed a bit more experience before signing up. Integrity was part of this process too, but it couldn’t be determined just from a piece of paper. No, the next phase would be in-person interviews. When would she have time to schedule those? Not this week unless she cancelled something else. The very thought made Caitlyn’s wounded eye twinge.

Once they were sorted, she set the applications aside. Beneath them the next task waited for her. Her fingers brushed over the edge of the top paper; for a moment she indulged the thought that maybe it would be better to work on something else.

That notion quickly passed, replaced by a steeling of her jaw. This was part of her job too, part of her responsibilities and irreparable failures.

The top page contained a list of names, those assigned to patrols before the attack. With a steady hand and a frown, Caitlyn started crossing names off the list. She crossed off Loris, who had helped nurse Vi back to health after trying to save Vander. Her pen continued to move, removing so many who had fallen, all of whom she had known.

When she reached Maddie’s name she paused. The tip of her pen tapped against the paper, once, then twice, before striking her name through as well.

There were so many questions she wanted to ask Maddie, words she had not been able to form in the last few moments of Maddie’s life. When did she betray her? Had she always been on Ambessa’s side? Caitlyn hadn’t exactly returned her feelings, but had those feelings even been real? It was pointless to wonder. To ask these questions of the dead would only result in cold silence.

Caitlyn continued her work.

At the end of the page she flipped to the next, to the actual schedule for patrol. Until they hired new enforcers, the hours would need to be severely cut in order to maintain the patrol routes.

It was during this process that Caitlyn heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching down the main staircase. They were accompanied by an adorable little yawn, one clearly stifled behind a hand.

Vi announced her entrance in her typical cheesy way. “It’s too early for breakfast, but I’m always hungry for cupcakes.” She sounded a little hoarse, as if she had just woken up.

“Very funny.” Caitlyn replied dryly, not even shifting her attention away from the paper. “I’m sorry for waking you.” She wrote a new time for one of the shifts, shortening it to try and make it fit with the new schedule.

“You didn’t.”

To her left, Caitlyn could hear the sound of the other chair being dragged along the ground. It would’ve been in her peripheral vision, if she had any remaining to speak of. Instead, she turned her head to watch as Vi moved the chair next to hers. The other woman collapsed heavily into the chair, likely still quite tired from not getting a full night of sleep. The light of the candle danced entrancingly across her face.

“What are you working on?” Vi asked, reminding Caitlyn that she was in fact supposed to be working and not staring.

She gestured towards the paper. “Just redoing some patrol shifts, we have to make do with a shortage for a while.”

“Ahh, right.” Vi rested her right hand on the arm of her chair as she leaned over to squint at the paper. She only got close enough to read it before pulling back, but her hand remained practically dangling over the edge. It was an invitation.

This wasn’t the first time Vi had invited Caitlyn like this, far from it in fact. In times of passion she often acted decisively, and she could flirt with the best of them, but in quiet moments like these things were different. At first Caitlyn thought it was hesitation, but she realized over time that wasn’t it. Rather, Vi patiently waited for her to be ready.

So Caitlyn took that moment, the one Vi so generously offered to her, to write another line on her paper before gently placing her left hand over Vi’s. A second later their fingers intertwined, fitting together exactly as they should be. Soon after Caitlyn could feel Vi’s head rest against her shoulder, nestling in place as she continued to work. For a few minutes, only the scratch of her pen broke the silence.

Vi being here like this, even late at night when she was crazy enough to get out of bed and work, was a change, a new normal that Caitlyn longed to continue.

“Oh, have you heard from the construction team?” Vi asked, as if she had just remembered something.

Caitlyn paused to think for a moment. “They’re still picking leadership for it, from what I last heard.” The council was putting together a crew to work on rebuilding from the battle, both in Piltover and the undercity.

“Then I still have a chance.” Vi’s hand shifted in Caitlyn’s. “I want to help out, to rebuild things rather than punch holes in them.” The words were practically whispered against Caitlyn’s collarbone, like a prayer for only her to hear.

Wanting to rebuild, Caitlyn understood that desire completely. This patrol schedule too, this was part of rebuilding. Was it really going to work with these changes? Shouldn’t she build it differently than before? The realization struck her that what she was doing now, it wasn’t going to work. She was falling into the same habits, the same patterns as before, but things had changed.

Vi was the one who showed her that. The schedule could wait just one more day for her to come up with a better plan. Caitlyn set the paper and pen down on the stack, turning her gaze to Vi.

“There’s no way they’d turn you away.”

Vi chuckled lowly in response. “We can only hope so.” She lifted her head to meet Caitlyn’s eye, with an unmistakable glimmer in her own. “I am one of the strongest people around you know.”

“Oh yes I am quite aware.” Caitlyn smiled softly, lifting one hand to slowly caress Vi’s cheek. She leaned in with the gesture, brushing their foreheads together. So many words lingered behind her lips, more thanks than she would ever be able to say, pleas to stay together forever, and three simple words of love that pressed desperately against her teeth.

Though those words clamored for release, it was too soon, too fresh. Just as Vi waited for her, Caitlyn waited patiently for Vi too.

In silence, Caitlyn closed the remaining distance between their lips. The kiss was short and sweet, intimate and yet just barely enough.

“Are you ready to go back to bed?” Caitlyn whispered as she pulled back.

“Are you?”

Caitlyn nodded and stood, pulling Vi with her to her feet. They blew out the candle and retreated together up the familiar steps, seen from this new and unfamiliar angle.

As Caitlyn settled back in bed with Vi, her injured eye still itched. Her brain still ran amok with thoughts of before and the battle and especially how to adapt to all of the changes ahead.

Caitlyn watched as Vi’s breathing evened out, her own eye sliding shut as she drifted towards slumber. Whatever the world threw at her, she knew she would face it with Vi at her side.

[mumms-the-word]

Yet another Veilguard update with the usual good, the bad, the ugly, and the me freaking out about minor references and callbacks haha

This one is very long sorry

So since the last update I have done as much side content as possible before heading to the Hossberg Wetlands and later Weisshaupt (which I just completed last night) which included, briefly, unlocking all of the solas regrets murals

And uh WOW was that whole deep dive a doozy. I definitely should have spaced out the murals over time rather than movie-marathoned them back to back. But the things I learned about Solas…it’s insanity

In a good way

In a really horrifying way

I loved that our theories about Solas being a spirit of Wisdom first were confirmed, and I lost my mind over the fact that the first elves were spirits who gained physical bodies by taking Titan blood (aka lyrium). And the fact that Solas CREATED THE BLIGHT by essentially making the Titans Tranquil?? And that’s why Dwarves don’t dream????

Losing my mind. Solas what have you DONE.

I still ahev to process it all haha but I do have a few thoughts

So far, I wish there was more engagement with these elements and the Chant of Light. The companions react and say that these reveals basically dismantle Andrastianism but the Chant has several allegorical parallels to what, apparently, really happened. The Maker’s first children were spirits, and all that…so I kind of wish the Chantry had a bigger presence in the game with more reactivity

But that’s a post for another day. For now, I reloaded back to only 3 murals unlocked so the team only knows the story up to Solas creating the Veil. I’ll rewatch the others later.

I got worried about being locked out of stuff so I went ahead and did as much side content as I could with a couple of exceptions. Turns out, I probably didn’t need to do that and it would have made more sense narratively if I hadn’t. More on that in a minute

The Siege of Weisshaupt mission was SO GOOD!! Like…the main missions are really where this game shines, I think. I have gripes with some of the companion conversations, but in the actual story missions, the action, the intensity, all of it is so good. And I thought Ghilan’nain turning her archdemon into a many-headed hydra creature was *chefs kiss* so cool. I love fighting big/unique stuff like that!

All that said the follow up scene with the team at the table leaves…a lot to be desired

Listen, DA games pride themselves on bringing together a team of companions that players adore and fall in love with. Naturally we enjoy helping out our companions because we like them. We don’t have to be told to help them because we just generally do that…and if we don’t then, rip, suffer the consequences

So I got a bit annoyed when the scene suddenly turned to a very overt “fix our problems” narrative

I don’t know, that feels so…forced to me. Varric literally tells me I have to solve everyone’s problems. Which is like…I was going to! Because they’re my friends! But being straight up told like “hey you have to solve everyone’s problems and stop their distractions or this team isn’t going to function” is like…I’m sorry are we adults or aren’t we? Why am I being told to babysit the team? Can you guys not pursue these distractions on your own rather than wait for me to give you permission? Did we all forget that two gods are out there rampaging? That they’re strong enough to destroy a fortress that stood against the blight and various conflicts for over 900 years? That they haven’t stopped and show no signs of stopping anytime soon?

But no, by all means, tell me in very obvious terms that my job is now to reconcile all your differences before I face the gods again. That doesn’t feel very handed at all.

Let me be clear. I love to help my companion. I love the idea that you build a team that works well because you have shaped them via your leadership skills. I love the idea that your team works well because you have invested in them. That’s really the heart of any DA game—gather your team, earn their loyalty, and see how well the friends you’ve made along the way assist you in the big battles to come.

But…that scene around the kitchen table could have been so much better, so much more nuanced, and far less “Solve their problems.”

To me, that scene should have been everyone fighting, calling out everyone’s distractions and mistakes, and essentially devolving into outright arguments over the table until Rook yells at everyone to shut up. Everyone is mad, everyone is upset. And then maybe the companions are like “sorry Rook, listen, I have a lot on my mind. I’m still going to help with the Big Problem but I’m also going to pursue this Other Thing whether you like it or not.” No suggestion that it’s now your problem to solve, but a heavy hint that it might get done more quickly if you help (which also gives you room to be an ass and not help). In this scenario, everyone ends up being very disgruntled with you, but you still have your hint that you need to pursue companion questlines if you want to see their cool abilities or special items or get them to be a Hero of the Veilguard or whatever…but that’s just my opinion

Basically I wanted subtly and tension. So much more tension.

What we got instead was a couple of annoyed comments and then Emmrich being like “oh dear we’re all distracted by the things that bother us” and everyone offering up distractions that, yes, need to be resolved…but it’s very easy to be like “hey bud the Hand of Glory and the Nadas Dirthalen can wait until the gods aren’t threatening to destroy the world I think.”

It’s not the worst scene in the world, but it could have been reframed better. Either frame it as “Sorry Rook but none of these factions trust you enough to aid you in the fight, you have to prove yourself to them” (and loop in the companion questlines that way) or show your team literally unraveling because they can’t get along or agree with you—now you see the evidence of what you need to fix, and nobody has to outright tell you to “solve everyone’s distractions.” It’s just implied. Because you saw them fighting. A lot.

Like duh I knew I’d have to resolve everyone’s problems if I want them to like me or stick around! That’s just what I’ve come to expect from RPG games like this. It’s an expectation of the genre. But I don’t want to be told that’s my job now. If anything it triggers my contrarian nature and now I want to see what bad ending I get when I don’t listen to the game’s extremely heavy push for me to deal with everyone’s issues

I won’t, but I’m tempted

I just…wanted it to be better. I want see everyone bitching at each other until everyone leaves in a huff and Rook just sits at the table, head in their hands like “oh my god everyone hates me and they hate each other and we’re going to die if everyone can’t get their shit together”

Then maybe Varric sits down next to them and goes, “Hey kid, did I ever tell you about the time Hawke tried to convince a Rivaini pirate, a weird abomination, a Dalish blood mage, a stiff-necked captain of the guard, a broody elf who glowed in the dark, and a few other friends besides to all agree to fight as a team to stop a qunari invasion in Kirkwall? It worked, more or less. By the end of the night, everyone had worked together enough to end up with one dead Arishok and an entire city’s gratitude.”

Maybe Rook looks up and says, “And how’d they manage that little miracle? Without everyone trying to kill each other in the process.”

And maybe Varric smiles and shrugs. “They had their differences, trust me. Half the time you couldn’t put two of them in a room together without a fight breaking out. But they all believed in one thing. They believed in Hawke.”

Then maybe there’s a pause, as he lets Rook consider that for a moment, before he stands up and says, “It’s a good bedtime story, in any case. I’ll let you sleep on it.”

Sigh. It just would have been cool…

Now in all fairness the scene felt even clunkier because I had actively been doing side quests and helping out my friends so it was like…it felt weird to have this implication that I’m not already helping them. It makes me think I shouldn’t do any of their side quests until after the Siege of Weisshaupt but who knows

I keep pendulum swinging back and forth between moments of brilliance and moments that leave me baffled and wondering who made some of these narrative/writing calls. I don’t hate the game by any stretch of the imagination. Like I said the Siege of Weisshaupt was amazing! And I loved the callbacks to precious games! You should have seen me live reacting and screaming about codexes in the Weisshaupt library haha But it’s like whiplash when something that good is followed up by a scene that feels excessively more hamfisted in comparison.

Anyway I am very busy this weekend and dunno when I’ll get to write another update soooo if you’re following for more, hope to give you more updates in the near-ish future!

[meli-writes]

payload

"nah, this is too good to be true," the merc-rebel-something mutters. she turns, twiddling the combat knife in her hand and stopping only to point it at you. "you wanna tell me what trap i've walked into, sweetheart?"

you eye the databox, stuffed with weeks and months of upcoming junta plans. and more besides. enough intel to butcher hundreds of their bootlickers, least until they figure out they're compromised.

"i have it -- for my own reasons," you taunt like the bellow of rotten, felled tree. "making my mark, if you have to know."

"is daddy-dictator's special girl staging a rebellious phase in her twenties?" the merc mocks. "smuggle a bunch of data to what sell for tattoo money?"

you didn't plan an answer for a question like this, and it's hard not to just gawk and fumble at your cuffs.

"maybe -- if it's not a trap -- the intel lasts a week," she continues. and besides that, you urge in your own head. "that's the only part with access dates in years. rest is outdated crap."

"w-what do you--"

you shut up when she stalks up, lifts chin with the little blade's point with just enough force to dip it in red.

"you living out some little fantasy right now?" she asks, as much curious as annoyed. "because i really think that'd be a mistake."

it takes a lot not squeal. "i-i'm a valuable hostage, my family will pay well."

"they will," the merc muses, "and i think you knew that." in a glance she's seen right through, smiles at the confirmation you haven't realised you just gave away. "you leaked your convoy's route didn't you? playing hero, thinking you're gonna make us a pretty penny and then waddle back to your parties and soirées."

you buck up above the point of the knife, "you think i like being around them? they're monsters. and i have to pretend to be one, and you have no idea what that does to you."

her brow raised, she stays quiet, listens.

"but i stood up, just like you did. i'm doing what i can."

and she laughs.

"ah-hahaha! oh saints, how many years you been saving up that little speech, sweetheart? or bleeding heart i should say."

"too many," you spit.

"hmm. good answer," she smirks, putting a hand on your shoulder and hoisting you towards her own vehicle. "you're staying restrained."

"b-but i'm helping you!" you gasp.

"your round ass for ransom helps me -- you don't," she makes clear, makes sure to enunciate it with a squeeze that presses into your collarbone. "and i don't trust you, so i'm not interested in giving you the chance to try anything. don't think i haven't killed prettier things than you.

don't think i regretted it either."

[hpalways]

in another lifetime

charas: timebomb drabble (ekko x powder) synopsis: as ekko thinks back to his journey from the other universe, he wonders and regrets what could've been in this timeline. warning: spoilers a/n: arcane hurt me so now i have to write angst for it LOL, they are my unbecoming frfr i miss them sm. also heard theories that jinx is still alive (im coping BYE) tho so maybe ill have to write another thing where he finds her

That singular night was still vivid in his mind to relive through, over and over again. From the strobing lights to the taints of her blue hues glimmering mischievously, he could just about see it if he closed his eyes. She was so close to him, so beautiful in a white, pure dress that he could not look at anything else. Her cute little dance moves that slowed down time for him and the sway of her short blue hair. Just a reach of his arm... would he be able to feel her warmth?

Of course not. It was now a memory to be tucked away. In this cold, sad world that he fought to survive in, he could not save the one he desperately wished to.

Ekko raised his arm toward the stars in the sky, laying there. So far yet so close. The stars represented her, burning bright until the very end.

When he first heard news that Jinx was gone, his gut dropped down to levels of hell, a torment of agony and lament drowning him in waves. How could it possibly be? She was the one that always came back from the dead to haunt him, a thorn to his side he could not get rid of. But now, she was gone, the moment he tried to reach out to her again.

He wondered.

He wondered so bad.

Boy Savior she called him. It made him so angry back then. So angry he turned his back on her, accepting the fact that he would never see the same girl he once was so close to.

But now he wondered if he gave up on her too soon.

Deep down all along, Powder was in there. The pain that she endured to live the way she had, she did everything to survive. But his cowardice could not face that. He could not see the suffering or the light that had disappeared from her gaze. The glimpse of her scared face beneath his grasp during their fight looked so much like... Powder. And yet, he still could not save her. Instead, he watched Silco carry her away, for her to continue the path of destruction.

When he found her there in her hideout, prepared to end it all, he could finally see the scope of it all. No longer was he shrouded in an endless cycle of rage and resentment, and for once, he could see it with a clear vision.

He should have tried harder -- to be at her side, save her of the demons that chased her.

She had painted him of her colors, her touch tickling his skin as he watched the furrow of her concentrated brow. Jinx was different from Powder in the other timeline, more rough and shrivel, her scowl imprinted on her lips. He realized he didn't mind it though.

Then they went off to war, only for one of them to return.

He... missed her.

Now all that was left of were his spiraling thoughts, of what ifs and regrets.

He pressed his fist against his forehead, feeling the heat of tears swarm from the corner of his eyes. Where he had been with Powder in the other universe on the same rooftop overlooking Piltover, he was now alone, the quiet unbearable.

Powder's words rang in his mind, a push for him to keep going.

"Sometimes taking a leap forward means leaving a few things behind."