#Jagged Terrain

[science-rpg]

Glassware (Equipable item) (Consumable weapon)

A consumable weapon that generally increases Accuracy and Chemical type damage. Can be equipped by any class but are most proficient in the hands of a Chemist.

By equipping glassware, chemist are able to perform most of their class actions such as titration and compound production.

Allows the use of the glass shatter action regardless of class type. This consumes the item however.

Glass shatter (Physical Attack)

Type: Chemistry BP 5 Distance: 2 Tiles (Varies with cetain items) Singular Target

Research;

None (Requires Glassware Items)

Creates 1 tile of jagged terrain that last 2 turns. You ain't from the Lab if you've never done this before.

[celestemona]

⋆˙⟡ — CONSTANT AS A RIVER, PERPETUAL AS MOUNTAINS

cw: no pronouns mentioned. just pure cuteness.

High above the forest floor, Kinich perched silently in the upper branches of a towering tree, his body still and balanced like a natural extension of the canopy. Below him, the landscape unfolded into a maze of thick trees, jagged rock faces, and the distant, thunderous roar of the waterfall cascading down the mountain. The air was thick with the scent of damp leaves and fresh water, the humidity clinging onto everything.

From this height, Kinich had a clear view of the world below—a vantage point that made him feel at home, with the winds sweeping through the treetops and the sway of the branches beneath him. His tribe had long since adapted to this unforgiving landscape, where cliffs loomed, trees stretched endlessly into the sky, and the terrain was as treacherous as it was beautiful. To outsiders, this place was inhospitable. To Kinich, it was perfect.

His sharp eyes followed you, who was on the floor far below, walking with a carefree grace that stood in stark contrast to the harshness of the environment around you. You moved with ease, your steps light as if you danced along the path, humming softly to yourself. Your hair fluttered in the breeze, and every so often, you’d pause to marvel at the way the light filtered through the trees' forms above, casting intricate patterns of shadow and light across your skin.

A small smile tugged at Kinich’s lips as he watched you, hidden from view. There was something magnetic about your presence—how you could bring warmth and life to even the most untamed of places. He admired your resilience and fearlessness, your ability to thrive in a land most would shy away from. Even now, you didn’t seem at all fazed by the singular nature that surrounded you.

From above, he could see how your eyes lit up every time you discovered something new—a strange flower, the movement of a saurian group nearby, or the iridescent glitter of sunlight against the waterfall in the distance. There was a joy to the way you moved, an uninhibited energy that drew him in and made him want to stay and watch you forever.

You suddenly stopped and tilted your head upward, squinting at the towering branches as if you could feel his gaze. “Kinich?” you called out, your voice slightly playful. “I know you’re up there somewhere.”

Kinich smirked, though he didn’t move or answer right away. He stayed hidden, knowing you’d keep searching, your instincts sharp enough to sense when he was near.

Your eyes scanned the treetops, and then your smile grew wider. “Come on. Don’t make me climb all the way up there just to find you,” you complained, putting a hand on your hip. “You know I will.”

That was enough to stir Kinich into action. With the quiet grace of a true Scion of the Canopy, he leaped from the branch he was perched on, landing silently on a lower one before dropping to the ground with barely a sound. Your face lit up when you saw him, eyes sparkling with delight.

“Took you long enough,” you said, closing the distance. Your hands immediately reached for him, fingers curling around his arm as you pulled him close. “Were you watching me the whole time?”

Kinich nodded, his expression calm but the warmth in his eyes gave him away. “You’re hard to miss,” he replied, his voice low. “Especially when you’re singing all the way.”

You giggled, your hand slipping down to entwine with his. “Well, I had a feeling you’d be up there, hiding away like some elusive yumkasaurus. But you know I’ll always find you.”

Kinich tilted his head slightly, his thumb brushing across the back of your hand. “I wasn’t hiding,” he said, though there was a subtle playfulness in his tone. “I was... observing.”

You raised an eyebrow, stepping closer until you were right in front of him, bodies almost touching. “Observing, huh?” you murmured, your voice dropping to a whisper. “And did you like what you saw?”

Kinich’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, the world around him seemed to fade away—the trees, the running river, the steep cliffs. All that mattered was the warmth of your hand in his and how you looked at him, so full of life and love.

He didn’t answer with words. Instead, he leaned in, his lips brushing softly against yours in a slow and steady kiss, much like him. You responded immediately, your arms wrapping around his neck as you deepened it, your fingers gently tangling in his hair.

When you finally pulled apart, you rested your forehead against his, your breath coming in soft, warm puffs against his skin. “You don’t always have to watch from afar, you know,” you whispered, your voice laced with affection. “You can come closer.”

Kinich smiled, his hand coming up to cup the side of your face. “I’m here now,” he said softly, his voice steady as always, but with a tenderness that only you ever got to see. “I’ll always come closer when it’s you.”

.

.

a/n: oh well. i didn't intend to write to him soon but i wanted to gift myself since my birthday is coming and i've been checking his tag for updates more times i should to. come on, my fella writers, where are you?

[yandere-wishes]

⭒ㅤׂ ɪ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ʙᴇ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇㅤׂ ⭒

⭒ㅤ𓈒 Yandere!WuWa! Men x Reader 𓈒 ⭒

゜⌒ヽ❥ Dark Romance

°•❃•°

꒷꒦꒷Scar | 伤痕

Your fear tastes like nectar, thick and sweet, and sacrilegious. Scar gulps down your apprehension in starving strides. Cradling the burn between his teeth, savoring the sensation of the embers coiling and seething inside his veins. You're too perfect, thrashing underneath him, caged and defiant his little lost lamb. trying to flee, begging for freedom like a fever dream high. He licks your iridescent tears with zealous maniacal jubilation. Relishing in the soft warm flesh of your cheek marinated in your woe. He wants to taste them every day, force them from your pretty petrified eyes with scorching kisses and touches that shatter your very bones.

Scar's talons etch jagged filigrees across your body engraving terrors and torments all parodying "I love you". But he can't love, not really, love is too gentle too vain, he needs to consume, to feel the reverberations trapped between your bones. Scar's kisses burn wakes down your spine, slipping between the vertebras. Hollowing out your essence piece by piece, his hunger knows no bonds, refusing to dwindle until he's bled every delicious part of you dry. Until he feels your heart between his teeth.

˚✶˚Jiyan | 忌炎

You trace his markings, nails gliding gingerly through the jagged crystals of his tacet mark. He kisses the hollow of your palm, basking in the sweet giggle you gift him. You're his precious treasure, a sweet gem imported from the silk roads themselves. He'd do anything to keep you safe binding your soul to his tattered one. Jiyan is the Qingloong that everyone looks up to, the indestructible pillar of Jinzhou. And yet a simple smile from you is all it takes to shatter his illusion of strength.

Between patients, his mother would sometimes grace him with fables about Dragons, not Loong, not the creature their nation worshiped but Dragons monsters from the western nations. She'd tell him How they hoarded exotic treasures from all corners of the world. Growing powerful in the light of other's envy. They did anything to protect their gold coins and pearl necklaces, kill, and maim in the name of obsession. Back then he'd found such creatures disgusting, dubbed it blasphemy to even mention them in the same breath as the deific Loong. Now he thinks he's more dragon than Loong. Hoarding you away keeping you only to himself. Promising to maul any who try to rob him of your sweet kisses and angelic laughter.

𒆜Calcharo | 卡卡罗

You come prepackaged with a soft smile and a docile heart. Calcharo thinks it's all from the privilege of having lived a satisfactory life. Cherished, overfed, protected. All the things stripped of him so young. He shouldn't be jealous though, after all, he has the complacency to thank for turning his darling into such an ideal doll. Jejune and helpless, shivering under his cold touch. He harbors you between his thighs, enjoying the way your pearl-kissed dress pools on the floor. An ivory testament to the innocence he so craves. Calcharo's calloused fingers entrap the hollow of your hips pulling you harshly against him, he can't get enough of you. His lips kiss the dip of your neck nose bumping the back of your ear. Enraptured by the floral scent of your perfume.

You tried to run again today, flee when he'd been out escorting a merchant across the desert terrain. His men had caught you, binded you all pretty and left you in his chamber. He flashes you a crooked smile upon entry. Watching as you struggle and glare knowing damn well it won't change a thing. "Really little rabbit? I thought we had ceased playing such foolish games." He grasps your chin pulling you closer, your knees slide across the wooden floor scuffing from the friction. His cold lips trace your own as he whispers degradations laced with romance. Calcharo leans down for the kill, a lethal crushing kiss. Trapping your lips and engulfing your essence. Laughing when you're foolish enough to return the favor. You shiver and moan and it takes every bit of willpower not to devour you right then and there.

☄Mortefi | 莫特斐

The universe reverberates to a familiar tune when he first sees you. Singing a melody he swears he's heard each night when he lays his wry head to rest. What kind of creature are you? A cacophony of starsongs and golden echoes. He longs to touch you, to permit his flames to traverse your body searing you until you shine with the purity you all so deserve. He loses himself in the melody of your voice, the lost tune of a fading nova. Something too ethereal to be of this crude world.

Mortefi fancies himself a scientist and takes utmost pride in the way his mind curves around a problem. Floating through the riddles seeking answers in the dark. He can fix anything, create anything. And yet you stand before him defiant of his understanding. Mortefi grabs you by the collar, cradling a rogue sun within his palms, kissing its rays trying to grasp comprehension between his teeth and swallow it whole. It doesn't work by the end of the kiss you are still an anomaly and he is still a scientist wearing the heart as some hapless love-struck schoolboy. The need to understand you grows claws tearing at his mind, desperation pierces his throat whenever he catches a mere glimpse of you. He needs to understand, to tear you open and choke your secrets.

҉　Aalto | 秋水

Aalto's fingers weave through your hair, silk traversing through bone and flesh, flowing free in the aero he produces subconsciously. He cradles you delicately in his arms, trying his best to ignore the sour frown etched upon your face. He creates fables, spinning stories out of silk and air trying to win your interest with tales of stray sheep and fallen stars. Of lost treasures on the jade road and little girls with fire flowing through their veins. Your frown doesn't falter.

He kisses you again, and again and again. Trying to pry out adoration and devotion from between your bones. He struggles, whining about detesting and freedom. It sounds so trivial especially when he can give you everything your heart desires. He can't let you go, not when his very essence aches to feel you between his arms. Aalto wonders what stories he must make to erase that blood-curdling frown of yours. What information does he need to lay out your feet for you to grace his lips with your own? A lover's kiss, not whatever this is. I love you he whispers, he doubts you even care.

Let me know what you think. Should I do yandere Jiyan x reader x Yandere Calcharo next? ~💜

[evermoreal]

here’s some more outlaw!au <3 thank u guys sm for all the love u showed on the first part of this. makes me so happy knowing people enjoyed the silly little idea that’s been terrorizing my brain.

the ride was long and wearisome. the adrenaline, like milk left on the counter, quickly began to sour into terror.

after gaz tied your hands behind your back and handed you off to a grinning price, he’d positioned you over the saddle of his horse — a broad, chestnut roan — climbing behind and wrapping his arms around you to steer the thing. his chest was shoved against your back, holsters poking against your spine and suffocating you in with an unappealing cocktail of leather, tobacco, dirt, and blood.

beyond lessons as a child, you’d never ridden a horse — not how they did, at least. the gnarled terrain made for a rough ride, and within the hour your thighs began to ache. you kept quiet, listening instead to the trotting of hooves and the sporadic remarks thrown between the men.

the men who now held your life, your will, in their hands.

you’d done your very best not to think about it — tried not to think about anything at all. you’d kept your gaze on the passing wilderness, studying the shapes of trees and wildflowers, imagining what lay beyond. the shadows, the shrubbery. coyotes, perhaps. foxes and deer.

it could only keep you occupied for so long. the silence pressed in, and it clawed it’s way to the forefront of your mind.

the gunshot still echoed off the walls of your skull.

“yer shakin’, swee’eart.” price’s breath was warm against your throat, and his voice was rough. “havin’ regrets, are we?”

swallowing whatever fretful sound that tried to escape, you answered honestly: “no, sir.”

“sir.” his tone was mocking, edged with a low chuckle. “so polite. how could a sweet thing like you be so willing to kill, hm?”

your breath shook, and you knew he’d heard it, no matter how much you hoped he didn’t. “i didn’t kill him,” you said. “you did. sir.”

“oh, lovey. i was jus’ holdin’ the gun — you told me where to aim.” his chest flexed against you as he heaved a sigh. “all i wanted was the money. without yer insistence, poor fellow’d still be ‘live an’ breathin’.”

the words knocked something loose. for all intents and purposes, you were a killer.

and worse, no matter how desperately you search, you could not find any regret.

“tha’s right,” he murmurs, as if you’d voiced the thoughts aloud. calloused fingers grip your chin, turning your face towards his. a light spattering of dirt covered his face, crawling along his crows feet and laugh lines. “just like us, ain’t you? dressin’ y’up in this pretty little outfit can’t change wha’s underneath.” he tugged at your dress. “‘s a good thing we found ye, ain’t it? what if ye’d made it to yer honeymoon an’ he’d tried to touch you? what would you have done?”

uselessly, you tried to pull away. price held firm, gripping you tightly. “answer me, sweet thing. what would ye have done?”

an ache had begun to thrum along the side of your throat; his fingers were calloused and tight around your jaw. your breathing was jagged around your words: “i wouldn’t have — i wouldn’t have let him.”

“no?” his voice was softer, like he was pleased. “how would you have stopped him?”

the terror was red-hot, and the acceptance was a balm. “he keeps — kept — a gun in the closet. no matter where we were staying.”

“yeah?” though he didn’t release your chin, his grip gentled, and he traced his thumb back and forth along your jaw. “you ever shot a gun before, love?”

“no,” you answered. “i’ve watched my father load them enough times, though.”

his lips had curved ever so slightly, and his eyes had softened, like you were proclaiming your love for him instead of explaining how you’d planned to kill a man.

“you’d have made such a mess,” he said tenderly, gently. “you don’t know the first thing about gettin’ rid of a body. his blood would’ve been everywhere, swee’eart. all over this pretty face, these clothes.” his thumb traced your bottom lip. “y’don’t have ta worry ’bout that now, though. y’ve got us for that, yeah?”

as his eyes bore into yours, brimmed with something you couldn’t quite read, you belatedly realized he wanted an answer. though your mouth had gone dry and a heavy pit had formed in your stomach, you nodded along to his words, murming a quiet, “yes,” before you could think any better of it.

[novaursa]

The Blood of the Dragon

- Summery: After you reject Daemon, the dragon chases after what he believes is his.

- Paring: reader!niece/Daemon Targaryen

- Note: reader is referred as Y/N and is bonded with dragon Grey Ghost. For the full list of my works done in chronological order visit my blog, it's pinned to the top.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 1 984

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

The wind howls in your ears as Grey Ghost soars above the Crownlands, the dense forest below a green blur. You urge him higher, relishing the freedom and exhilaration of flight. The sky is yours, a vast expanse of azure that stretches endlessly in every direction. For a moment, you forget your troubles, losing yourself in the pure joy of riding the skies.

But that joy is short-lived.

A dark shape appears on the horizon, growing larger with alarming speed. Your heart skips a beat as you recognize the red-hued scales and unmistakable silhouette of Caraxes, the Blood Wyrm. Daemon. Panic grips you as you realize he is coming straight for you, his dragon's wings cutting through the air with terrifying swiftness.

"Grey Ghost, we need to move!" you shout, your voice nearly drowned out by the wind.

Grey Ghost responds immediately, his massive wings flapping harder as he veers sharply to the left. The sudden maneuver almost throws you from the saddle, and you cling desperately to the reins, your knuckles white with the effort. You glance over your shoulder, hoping Daemon might break off his pursuit. But no such luck. Caraxes is right on your tail, his feral eyes locked onto you with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.

"Daemon, stop!" you scream, though you know he won't hear you over the roar of the wind and the beating of dragon wings.

You lean closer to Grey Ghost, urging him to go faster. The ground blurs beneath you as he dives, weaving between clouds in a desperate attempt to shake off his pursuer. Your mind races, trying to understand why Daemon is chasing you. You recall the wedding, Rhaenyra and Laenor's joyous union marred by Daemon's advances. You had rejected your uncle, firmly and publicly, hoping he would get the message.

It seems he hadn't.

"Y/N, there's no escaping me!" Daemon's voice rings out, carried by the wind, sounding almost amused.

You grit your teeth, anger flaring alongside your fear. "I told you no, Daemon!"

Your words are lost to the wind as Caraxes closes the distance, his fiery breath scorching the air just behind you. Grey Ghost dodges the flames, but you can feel the heat, a stark reminder of the danger you're in. You can't keep this up forever; Caraxes is faster and more agile. You need a plan.

"Grey Ghost, head for the cliffs!" you command, hoping the rocky terrain might give you an edge.

Your dragon responds with a powerful thrust of his wings, speeding towards the craggy cliffs that rise sharply from the coastline. You hold on tight, praying this desperate gamble will work. The cliffs loom closer, jagged and unyielding, and you guide Grey Ghost into a narrow crevice, barely wide enough for his wingspan.

Caraxes follows, his larger frame struggling to navigate the tight space. For a moment, you think you might have escaped, but Daemon is relentless. He forces Caraxes through the crevice, rock and debris raining down as his dragon's wings scrape against the stone.

"Why are you doing this?" you shout, glancing back at Daemon.

His eyes meet yours, fierce and determined. "Because you belong to me, Y/N. And I always get what I want."

His words send a chill down your spine. This isn't just a chase; it's a hunt. And you're the prey. Grey Ghost bursts from the crevice, diving towards the sea. The salt spray hits your face as you skim just above the waves, the sea a blur beneath you. Caraxes is right behind, unrelenting.

"Y/N, don't make this harder than it needs to be!" Daemon's voice is closer now, the thrill of the chase evident.

Your heart pounds in your chest, fear and anger warring within you. "I will never be yours, Daemon!"

You steer Grey Ghost towards a series of sea stacks, hoping to use the rocky pillars to your advantage. The dragon weaves through the formations with practiced ease, but Caraxes follows, smashing through one of the smaller stacks in his pursuit. The sound of shattering rock echoes in your ears, and you know you can't keep this up much longer.

Grey Ghost's wings are tiring, each beat growing more labored. You can feel his exhaustion through the bond you share, and it breaks your heart to push him further. But you have no choice. You can't let Daemon catch you.

"Just a little longer, my friend," you whisper, patting his neck.

The coastline stretches before you, the cliffs giving way to open fields. There's nowhere left to hide. Daemon is gaining, and you can see the determination in his eyes. He won't stop until he has you.

"Grey Ghost, we're almost there," you murmur, though you don't know where "there" is. All you know is you have to keep flying, keep evading, keep hoping for a miracle.

As the sun begins to set, casting long shadows across the land, Daemon and Caraxes remain relentless. The chase continues, the outcome uncertain. Your only hope is that somehow, some way, you can outlast him. 

But for now, the hunt is on, and Daemon Targaryen is not a man who gives up easily.

Grey Ghost’s wings beat heavily beneath you, the strain evident in his every movement. Caraxes remains relentless, his larger form casting a long shadow over you as he inches closer with every passing second. Just when you think you might gain some distance, a sudden gust of wind throws Grey Ghost off balance. In that moment of vulnerability, Caraxes strikes.

The collision is violent and sudden. Caraxes crashes into Grey Ghost with brutal force, their massive bodies tangling as they plummet towards an ancient, abandoned tower below. You cling desperately to the saddle as Grey Ghost tries to regain control, but it’s too late. The ground rushes up to meet you, and the impact is catastrophic.

The tower shatters under the combined weight of the two dragons, stone and timber exploding in all directions. Grey Ghost roars in pain, his claws scrabbling for purchase as Caraxes pins him down, their scales scraping and clashing with a deafening screech. You barely manage to stay mounted, your world a blur of chaos and destruction.

"Hold on, Grey Ghost!" you cry, though you know it’s futile.

Caraxes is relentless, his jaws snapping dangerously close to Grey Ghost’s throat. You can feel your dragon’s suffering and pain through your bond, and it tears at your heart. You need to do something, anything, to save him.

"Daemon, stop this madness!" you shout, but your words are drowned out by the roar of the dragons.

With a desperate decision, you unfasten the straps of your saddle and leap from Grey Ghost’s back just as Caraxes lunges forward. You hit the ground hard, the breath knocked out of your lungs in a painful rush. For a moment, you can’t move, your vision dark and your body aching. The sounds of the dragon fight fade into the background as you struggle to breathe, each gasp a sharp pain in your chest.

Slowly, your vision clears, and you see Grey Ghost pinned beneath Caraxes, his once-mighty form now battered and immobile. The sight sends a wave of despair through you. Your faithful dragon is defeated, and there’s nothing you can do to help him.

A shadow falls over you, and you look up to see Daemon dismounting Caraxes. His movements are graceful, almost casual, as if this were just another game to him. He walks towards you with a smirk on his face, his eyes gleaming with a mix of triumph and admiration.

"You put up quite the chase, Y/N," he says, his voice laced with amusement. "I must admit, I enjoyed it more than I expected."

You sigh, defeated. You know how this game is played, especially among those with dragon blood. Daemon has won, and there’s no denying the surge of conflicting emotions within you – fear, frustration, and a reluctant spark of excitement. There’s a strange satisfaction in knowing you fought well, even if the outcome was inevitable.

Daemon kneels beside you, his hands gentle as he cups your cheeks. His touch is surprisingly tender, and you feel a shiver run through you as his forehead rests against yours. His breath mingles with yours, and for a moment, the world narrows to just the two of you.

"You are mine, Y/N," he declares softly, his voice filled with a possessive intensity that sends a thrill down your spine. "And I always take what is mine."

The words resonate deep within you, stirring something primal and undeniable. You close your eyes, accepting the truth of his claim. There’s no escaping Daemon Targaryen, no denying the bond that ties you together. The chase is over, and Daemon has won.

Daemon's eyes bore into yours, a smoldering fire that matches the heat coursing through your veins. His hands slide from your cheeks to the back of your neck, drawing you closer. Without hesitation, he captures your lips with his, the kiss searing and demanding. You resist for a fleeting moment, your mind battling your heart, but the intensity of his desire sweeps you away.

You surrender, kissing him back with equal fervor. The world around you fades, the dragons, the ruins, everything dissolves into the background as you become lost in the sensation of his lips on yours. Your hands find their way to his shoulders, gripping tightly as if he’s your anchor in a storm.

His hands move with purpose, deftly unfastening your riding gear. You follow suit, your fingers fumbling with the clasps of his armor, the urgency of the moment making you both impatient. Fabric and leather fall away, leaving you both exposed to the cool air and each other’s heated touch.

Under the watchful gaze of Grey Ghost and Caraxes, you and Daemon come together with a fervent intensity, your bodies moving in a primal rhythm. Every touch, every kiss is charged with a desperate need, as if the world might end and this might be your last chance to claim each other.

Daemon's hands explore every inch of you, his touch both possessive and reverent. You respond in kind, your fingers tracing the hard lines of his body, memorizing the feel of him. You move together, lost in a dance as old as time, chasing the high that only comes from complete and utter surrender.

The climax is shattering, a moment of pure ecstasy that leaves you both breathless and trembling. You collapse against him, your heart racing, the aftermath of your union leaving you both spent and exhilarated.

Daemon is the first to move, his touch now gentle as he helps you dress. There's a new tenderness in his eyes, a softening of his usual fierce demeanor.

"Get dressed," he murmurs, his voice husky. "We’re going to Dragonstone. Our union must be cemented, made known to all."

You nod, still catching your breath, and begin to pull on your clothes. Daemon's gaze never leaves you, his eyes filled with a possessive pride. Once you're both dressed, he extends a hand to help you to your feet. You take it, the strength of his grip reassuring.

As you mount Grey Ghost, you feel a mixture of emotions—trepidation, excitement, and an undeniable connection to the man beside you. Daemon swings onto Caraxes with practiced ease, his gaze still locked on you.

"Follow me," he commands, his voice carrying the authority that comes so naturally to him.

You nod again, and with a powerful beat of Grey Ghost’s wings, you take to the skies. Caraxes follows, and together, you fly towards Dragonstone, the future uncertain but the bond between you and Daemon now unbreakable.

As the dragons soar through the twilight sky, the ruins of the tower fade into the distance, leaving behind the memory of a chase that ended not in defeat, but in an irrevocable union.

[untolduttering]

I’ve Got You

Summary: Reader, terrified of needles, injures themself badly enough to need stitches, and does what they can to avoid getting them. Sanji, however, would never let you suffer so.

Tags: Sanji x gn!reader, established relationship, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, blood, medical needles, open wounds

Word count: 4.4k

I made one for Law ages ago, and thought it’d be fun to write a version for Sanji, (you all should thank @yourboyhack for encouraging me <3 <3 <3)

Several mistakes were made on your part. First, you had let yourself stray from the rest of the group. You weren’t one to get lost easily, and so when you wandered farther than everyone else, it didn’t raise any alarms. You yourself were confident, and there hadn’t been any clear threats. It was an uninhabited island like any other, the forest like any other. But that had been your second mistake. You underestimated the terrain. A cursory glance left you thinking you could venture out without any real equipment. It was a simple walk. But the air held that earthy scent that meant it had just rained, the earth loose beneath your feet. The third was just not taking anyone with you. A second set of eyes would have pointed out the drop, or at least have caught you when you slipped. Instead, you threw your arm out behind you, desperate to grab any sort of branch or root, or even the ledge, but you found purchase in neither.

The drop wasn’t that far. It was the sort of fall that would have merely been embarrassing, only leaving you disgruntled because of the mud in your clothes and your own stupidity, if it weren’t for the rock jutting out. You hit it on the way down, thigh catching and tearing along the jagged edge. The breath left your body as you hit the ground, and you laid there for a moment, completely still, to breathe deep and try to reorientate yourself. You dreaded the bright pain that was building in your leg, not wanting to know the extent of the damage. When you finally brought yourself to do it, a hiss slipped between your clenched teeth. It was difficult to know how deep the gash was with all the blood that had already welled up and began to drip, but you knew it was bad. Your stomach turned at the thought of what it’d take to heal it, your mind touching and recoiling away from the thought of stitches.

You hurried to stand, ready to prove that it was not that bad. Your legs shook as you stood, but less from pain and more from the shock. As you started your search for a way out, you found it difficult to put too much weight on your injured leg, but it was manageable. What kind of Straw Hat were you if you couldn’t? You were fine, you told yourself. You could suck it up and fix it.

The little gap in the earth you had fallen into wasn’t all that deep. You couldn’t even call it a ravine, really. The little hill up and out to leveled ground was close and short. It made it all the more easier on your part, but also more irritating. This, out of all things, was what had caught you unawares? It was not something you were going to be eager to explain.

You hobbled your way back. It took longer than your way in, but at least you knew the path there. You kept a hand pressed to your wound, an effort that wasn’t doing much but making your hand a sticky mess, but you didn’t have much else to do for it. In this one instance, you were relieved to find the ship empty when you made your way back. Carefully, you climbed the gangway and stopped on the deck, listening. There wasn’t a reaction from the crow’s nest, nor one from the upper decks, which meant that whoever must have stayed behind was busy in one of the rooms or below deck. It meant you had to tread carefully.

Usually, you would head straight for Sanji and let him tend to you. It was a ritual at this point. One of you got hurt and offered themselves to the other, relishing the admonitions to be more careful and the skin to skin contact. The trust and love required to allow the other to dirty their hands as they helped them in such a vulnerable state. But this time, you hesitated. You’d never been hurt like this before. And it wasn’t that you didn’t trust Sanji to help you this time. He was more than capable and would be more than willing. His soothing hands and sweet words were all you wanted at that moment.

It’s that you were afraid. The threat of a needle and thread loomed over you. You didn’t know if it was something that Sanji could do, but his skill wasn’t the worry. It was the needle going in and out, slicing through and dragging the thread through your skin, an intrusion that wouldn’t be removed for a while.

You trudged ahead to the bathroom. You could handle this. Sanji was busy anyway, wherever he was; it would have been rude to interrupt and ask him for help over something as simple as a cut. It wasn’t all that deep. Blood had made a fine layer on your leg, but that’s what blood did. Like most wounds, blood made it look worse than it actually was. There was a simple first aid kit that sat in the cupboard of the bathroom, and that was all you would need.

You moved as quietly as possible, as the bathroom was behind the kitchen and getting to it required walking atop it. You hoped that the gentle sounds of water lapping at the hull would mask the creaking of the wood beneath your footsteps. When you made it near the kitchen, you could hear the sounds of Sanji cooking, and cursed your luck that it had been him to stay behind. It made sense, as he would be making lunch for a voracious group of pirates that would be tired from their ventures. You hoped that you could be cleaned and fixed by the time you saw him again. It would make it easier to brush it all away. You kept your steps light as you continued, praying he would not notice. But Sanji had keen senses, and a radar that was attuned specially for you.

Dread became a terrible weight in your stomach at the sound of the voice calling out behind you. You’d reached the door of the library, and quickly shoved yourself behind it in case his head popped up.

“Y/n! Is that you, my love? Lunch is almost ready!” Sanji yelled.

“Yeah! I just need to go to the bathroom real quick. I’ll be right down.” You shut the door and scurried up to the bathroom before he could answer.

It made it more difficult now that he knew you were there. A timer had been set. If you took too long, he was going to come and check.

You stripped down to your underwear, your clothing a dirty mess and now a hindrance. You grabbed the first aid kit and a towel, and settled yourself on the tiled floor, facing the door you’d locked. The trek had left you exhausted and woozy. The task at hand was beginning to feel insurmountable and the sudden feeling of hopelessness washed over you. Sanji’s pampering had left you soft. You wanted his hands on you more than ever, for him to take the weight of responsibility and take complete care of you. But you just couldn’t let him.

First, you used the shower head to rinse all the blood and dirt off, biting hard into your lip as you flushed out the wound. You tried to dry the water off afterward, but it was difficult when the blood wouldn’t stop flowing. You pressed the towel down, waiting for a bit as the blood soaked into the fabric before trying again, but it simply was not working. You had to close it before trying to get any cleaner. Flipping open the kit, you rooted around for butterfly bandages. You were able to apply two before your skin was too slick for the bandages to stick. You grabbed the towel and tried to wipe away the blood with a clean patch, but it smeared it more than anything. Your head was starting to swim and the blood was getting everywhere, all across your thigh, leeching onto your other leg. All over your hands and under your nails. In some spots, it’d dried down and become sticky. The rest left you too slippery. One side of one of the bandages you placed popped up. Your eyes started to burn with frustration.

And then there was a knock at the door.

“Y/n? Is everything all right? You’ve been in there a while,” Sanji asked from the other side.

“I’m fine! Just getting cleaned up.” You hoped you sounded normal, that no strain peeked through.

“Cleaned up? Did something happen?”

“Oh, you know, just the usual grime from hiking.”

“Ah, do you need any help, my dear? I could scrub your back for you.” His voice took on a sultry, flirty tone.

“No!” You said it too fast, too aggressively, and tried to fix it immediately. “It’s just a quick one, no need for help.”

It was wrong. You knew it as you said it. Normally, you would have said yes, ready to take full advantage of an empty ship, or if not, you would have at least flirted back or teased him. But it was hard to think of the right thing to say at the moment.

“Oh.” The dejected tone of his voice sliced right through you, worse than the rock had. “Have I done something wrong?”

Of course he would ask. Of course he would think himself at fault. Why else would you reject someone you loved so dearly, craved so constantly? You didn’t know how much longer this would take. You could send him away, but he’d come right back if you didn’t leave soon after. And the clothes and the towels, what would you do with those? And the wound itself, just how the hell were you supposed to keep that hidden? It would hurt him to know that you didn’t come to him for help.

“No, no, of course not. I just…” You trailed off. The throb of your leg and the tangy scent of blood and the wetness of the floor was making it hard to think. The light was too bright and yet its sharpness didn’t make fixing your wound any easier. You kept moving in a helpless circle of wiping blood and trying to get the butterfly bandages to stick.

Maybe a little truth could help. “I got a little scrape and wanted to handle it myself. I’ll be out soon, I swear.”

“What? Are you alright?” The door handle jiggled. “Why didn’t you come to me?”

Fuck, why did you think that would help? You had just told yourself how it wouldn’t help to tell him. “You were busy. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

Sanji knew, though. He always knew. You loved to distract him in the kitchen, doing anything to keep his attention on you. “Let me help you. I’m not busy now.”

He was never going to let up until he got a look at it himself, to at least assuage his own worries. You would want to do the same for him.

“I can’t—“ No, that wasn’t right. “It’s fine.”

“If it’s fine, then let me see it, baby.”

Shit. Shit shit shit. Say no, and it would confirm suspicion. Say yes, and you had to let him in. And you were in no state to find a better way around it. You snatched some gauze, pressing them to the wound, and started wrapping your leg. “Y-yeah. Just a second more.”

“Y/n,” his voice was serious, the closest to stern he could get with you, and dripping with concern. The door handle was jiggling again, now like he was doing something to it.

“Just a moment, I swear.” Lifting your leg to move the wrapping under it hurt and you harshly sucked in a breath, fingers shaking. A few tears snuck their way down your cheeks. Why, why, why was it so damn hard?

The door swung open and all you could do was feel the fear and shame that flooded your body. You were like a child caught doing something naughty, and your mind reeled with how you could defend yourself. The gasp that Sanji let out rang against the tile, and made even louder to your ears by your panic. You looked up, hair hanging in your face.

On Sanji’s end, only one eye poked through that curtain of hair, the rest of your face hidden. It was wide, red-rimmed, and filled with threat. You were a feral animal, back hunched and body tensed, ready to sink your teeth in. Blood was smeared across every available surface, and all over you. Mud still clung to your skin, bits on your shoulders, arms, and ankles where you hadn’t cared to clean yet. If it were anyone else that had stumbled upon you, they would have backed right out from fear. That look in your eye and the redness that surrounded you would have set off alarm bells, the scene making it seem like it was not your own blood you were coated in. And that you weren’t going to stop at one victim.

But it was Sanji, and it was you. You could be crouched over a corpse, soaked to the elbows in another’s blood, an organ pressed to the mess of your mouth, and he would still approach you. Cradle your face and wipe a thumb across your chin and ask if you needed anything else. And so he lept towards you.

“Oh gods, my baby—”

“Don’t!” It was a shrill, ugly noise. You lifted your hand, palm out and fingers spread wide to keep him at bay.

He froze, unable to disobey any command from you. But it pained him to do so, for you to ask that of him. “What happened?”

“I fell. It’s fine, though. It’s not bad. The blood just makes it look bad. But it’s not.” The words came out in a rush.

“Y/n, it looks very, very bad.”

“It’s not! It’s not. I don’t need anything more than bandages.”

Sanji swallowed and slowly crouched down. “Can I look?”

“N-no. Because it’s okay.”

He only looked at you, eyes squinted and eyebrows furrowed, his lips pressed together and the corners tugging down. He looked so worried, so scared. A pain twisted in your chest.

“I don’t need stitches,” you whispered, trying to reassure him.

And then he understood. He understood your sneakiness and your panic and your refusal. It wasn’t exactly him you were rejecting.

“Oh, oh baby,” he said as he reached towards you.

Unconsciously, you flinched away from those hands. The softness of his voice let you know that he knew the root of your fear, that your words had been an admission, which meant he would do what he could to make those stitches more bearable for you. But you didn’t. Need. Them.

“Stop it. I’ve got it,” you snapped.

Hurt flashed across his face, but he stopped reaching for you. Instead, he sat down and rested his elbows on his knees. Softly, he said, “It’ll go faster, smoother, if you let me help you.”

You bit down on your lip and hunched your shoulders. You knew he was right, but you didn’t want him to be. Tears started to well in your eyes again and it made your stomach burn brighter with anger and shame. “I don’t need your fucking help.”

“It’s okay to be afraid,” he continued. “We all do things while scared all the time. And I’ll hold you through this one the whole time. You know I’ve always got you.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, wanting to hand yourself over to him so, so badly. But you could see it so clearly, the needle breaking your skin and diving in. Dragging itself so painfully through and out, emerging red with your blood. And the thread that followed, prolonging the pain as it dragged through as well. And the dipping and tugging and pulling that followed, again and again. Your throat felt dangerously tight.

“I don’t want to,” you cried.

“I know. I know, I know, I know.” You felt the slightest brush of skin along the ankle of your uninjured leg, and when you didn’t flinch or pull away, he wrapped his fingers around, rubbing soothing circles. “But you have to. And you can do it. I know you can do it.”

You shook your head, back and forth, back and forth. You tried to tug your leg away but he held firm, and you hadn’t tried all that hard in the first place.

“My baby, my lover, my heart, please?”

His plea broke through it all. Fear could be so tiring. Exhaustion made it harder to fight, to keep your eyes open. Sanji’s words washed over you again and again, always a balm to the worst pains. You wanted him to whisk away all your problems, but this one you had to sit through. However, you’d be in your lover’s embrace, and couldn’t that mean that you could tough it out?

“I’m gonna go get Chopper, yeah?” he asked.

You didn’t answer, instead leaning back and letting your head fall to the side. You sluggishly shrugged one shoulder.

He pressed a kiss to your knee before leaving. In his absence, the fear slowly coiled its way back, the anticipation making it return. You pressed your palms to the tile and tried to push yourself up to run away, but your body was disobeying you. You just couldn’t get your legs beneath you, which meant there was no way they’d hold your weight. Your stomach flipped at the sound of footsteps and hooves clipping.

“Oh no! Oh, Y/n!” Chopper’s little voice exclaimed. You started to curl in on yourself, dragging your injured leg in and away, opening your mouth to snarl, but then Sanji was there, wrapping his arms around you. He pulled you close and you shoved your face into the crook of his neck, a move of pure want and instinct. You inhaled his scent and it left you feeling a little more steady.

He buried his nose in your hair and rubbed your arms as he said, “You’ve got this. You don’t have to look, just sit like this. It’s nice, right?”

“I’ll be able to numb the area, but it does mean I’ll have to inject it with a syringe. You won’t feel any pain from the stitches though!” Chopper explained.

It was nigh impossible to fight back now. Out of all people to snap and bite at, could you really make it Chopper? You would really feel like the villain then. “Okay,” you croaked.

“Okay. I’m gonna start now, first by cleaning up the wound.”

Your blood had gone tacky in the time it took to fetch Chopper, and so the gauze being peeled off your skin left you tensing your muscles. You gripped a handful of Sanji’s shirtfront, tugging it towards you.

“Breathe, my sweet, breathe,” he cooed as he petted your hair.

Both boys inhaled sharply at your fully revealed gash. You didn’t turn to look, quickly frankly sick of looking at the damn thing. Sanji’s hold on you tightened and you felt guilty at all the anxiety you were causing him.

You tried to be as still as possible as Chopper cleaned, but it was difficult not to twitch at every sting. There was a silence when he finished, only interrupted by the sounds of Chopper rifling through his supplies.

“Now for the numbing. Are you ready?” Chopper asked.

“Go ahead,” you said, trying to get your voice to cooperate, to sound steady. It wobbled anyway.

“Lunch is sandwiches, if you’re still hungry after. If… it’s still there, actually. I’d thought you would come out sooner, so I left it in the kitchen with everyone else’s, and you know how Luffy is, that insatiable asshole. Hopefully the others keep it from him, but with him, it’s always a fight.” Sanji’s rambling caught you off guard, and in trying to pay attention to what he was saying, the needle went in and out without bothering you much. Your breath hitched a little at the fluid entering your muscle, but you were too distracted thinking about Luffy stealing your food to give it more thought. You didn’t really have an appetite at the moment, but it was your sandwich that Sanji made for you. And you each had a favorite, one specific to each of you, so Luffy knew better.

“He better not,” you huffed.

“If he did, I’ll kick his ass,” Sanji answered.

You let out a little huff of laughter at that.

“I’m still deciding what dinner is, though. Is there anything you’ve been craving?” he asked.

It was hard to think of what you’d want. “I don’t know. Maybe something with pasta?”

He hummed. “Red or white sauce? Or maybe something different?”

“Um, probably white. Or something more cheesy?”

“Ooo!” Chopper butted in with. “I want something more cheesy.”

The conversation went on just like that. Sanji’s hand roamed, kneading and rubbing at your arms, then your hips, then upper thighs, all in an endless circle. You could feel the stitches, the needle entering and exiting as Chopper worked, but you never felt any pain. It was an odd sensation, like it was more the idea of it than the reality. Sanji’s other hand never left your head, either cupping your cheek and pressing you to his chest, or running his fingers through your hair. Each time you turned your head, wanting to maybe steal a glance, he’d push you right back, knowing that letting you look could send you reeling all over again. His thumb would softly trace your jaw after he did, or his fingertips would ghost over your cheekbones. It was grounding, and safe, to be so engulfed by him.

“All done!” Chopper said after a while.

You pushed off of Sanji’s chest, swatting away the hand that protested it. Your gaze bounced off your thigh, only catching it in your sight for a second before grabbing Chopper and pulling him in for a hug.

“You’re the greatest doctor to have ever existed. Thank you, Chopper,” you told him.

He giggled and wiggled in your grasp. “Aww, you’re just saying that. You can’t flatter me.”

After you put him down, he reached for fresh gauze and bandaging to finish helping you, but Sanji butted in.

“I can do that later, Chopper. For now, they still need a bath.”

“Alright,” he answered. “I’ll be out on the ship then. Make sure to not submerge their wound, though!”

Sanji gave him a thumbs up. “Got it.”

After Chopper left, Sanji slipped out from behind you, slowly and gently as he could so he wouldn’t jostle you. He started up the bath and then turned back to you, kneeling between your legs, so that he could remove the rest of your underwear.

“Think you could lift your hips for me, sweetheart?” he asked.

You were stiff from sitting so long, and now the pain from the other bumps and bruises from your fall were making themselves known. It took you a second, but you were able to do as he asked.

“My poor, poor baby. I’ve got you, though. I’ll take good care of you,” he cooed.

When Sanji lifted you up, you couldn’t help the little whimper that came up and out of your throat. Immediately, he apologized and kissed all over your face as he lowered you into the bath. He started with your injured leg first, beginning with the mud caked to your foot and ankle and then worked his way up, removing the remaining crusts of blood. His fingers barely brushed your skin when he cleaned your injury the best he could, his eyebrows twitching and apology ready at every flinch and hiss. He massaged you as he scrubbed and rinsed, trying to remove the aches and hurts from your body. Every so often, he pressed kisses into your skin, long and loving. You were fully limp by the time he washed your hair, only emitting a satisfied sigh as his fingers worked through your locks. When he finished rinsing, you reached up and pulled his face to yours, and kissed him.

“Thank you, my love. You’re much too good to me,” you said.

He tutted. “I only give you what you deserve, and even I’m not fulfilling that properly; you deserve so much more. You are my everything.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, and that I pushed you away. I’m sorry that I snapped and swore at—”

He cut you off with a kiss, this one more urgent. “You have nothing to apologize for. Ever. I’m the one who should be sorry. I failed you.”

You sat up straighter. “What? How could you have failed me?”

“I should have been there for you, but I stayed behind. I should have made sure you weren’t alone, or been selfish enough to ask you to stay.” He ran his thumb over your cheekbone, his face full of regret.

“No, no. You’ve done more for me than you could ever imagine. You made me feel safe, you always make me feel safe. It was my own stupid mistake, not yours.”

Sanji’s mouth twitched upwards only a little, and you could tell he was still beating himself up, that no matter what you said, a small part of him would always blame himself. He would just never know how truly amazing he was.

You sighed and kissed him softly, on his mouth, his nose, his cheeks and then his mouth again. “Will you lay with me?”

“Of course.”

“For a long, long time?”

“Yes.”

“For however long I want you too?”

“There is not a single demand of yours that I would ever deny.”

You were being needy, taking more and more of Sanji than you should have. But it was impossible not to when he made you feel like heaven. You were ready to let him dress you and coddle you for a lot longer, and looked forward to a cuddle session that lasted hours.

With Sanji around, there wasn’t ever anything to worry about.

[sunflowersteves]

come and get your love || j.m.

chapter one of ain’t no sunshine

pairing || joel miller x f!sunshine!reader

summary || someone across the Tipsy Bison had their hand on you all night. how long will Joel Miller take to do something about it?

author's note || first part of the series! all of the chapters can be read as a stand alone, but they do go in order of a time line. hope you all enjoy &lt;3 4.1k words

warnings || jealousy, insecurities, angst, toxic people, possessiveness, fluff, 10 year age gap (joel is 51), SMUT, praise kink, oral sex (f rec), cunnilingus, fingering, squirting, [18+ only]

series masterlist || masterlist

Hail, with it, baby, 'cause you're fine And you're mine, and you look so divine

Joel’s eyes lingered on your form from across the bustling bar. It was in the middle of a Wyoming summer, so you wore a pretty light blue sundress. You could feel the cool breeze brush up against your thighs and the sun beating down on your skin just from the dusty windows. 

You came home one day, telling Joel and Ellie that you traded some old tactical pants for the frilly dress. Joel choked on his morning coffee when he caught a glimpse—Ellie just laughed and laughed. And now, you looked unbelievably perfect, all while you fluttered around the chairs and tables in the Tipsy Bison, talking with friends and newcomers. 

Although, his soft, love-sick eyes started to harden as they continued to follow you. 

The mere sight of someone flirting with you—a shoulder leaning on a support pole with sparkling eyes—was going to send his old bones into a coma. He was sure of it. Joel's chest started to burn from a sizzling rage that crept up to his cheeks. 

You were as friendly as you could be with a beer in your hand and a laugh escaping your lips. He knew you were oblivious to the flirting. You always have been. 

A couple of years ago, along the endless roads of traveling to get Ellie where she needed to go, Joel had been trying to get your attention for weeks, despite his damn self-sabotage that forced himself to avoid you in the previous months before. Ellie saw through it, though. Tommy saw it too. Hell, even Tess saw through it. The one person who had not seen just how much Joel was infatuated and hopelessly in love with you was, well, you. 

He thought that it was because he was rough and unrestrained. Joel was a jagged edge of a rock that cut deep into anyone that came near him. He thought you might not want to be with him and all of his baggage.

You were the exact polar opposite of him. You were a ray of sunshine—a burst of fresh air that knocked the breath out of his lungs. You could handle yourself out there in the depths of survival. He did not doubt that, but you were still warmhearted and sweet. You were what the rest of the world seemed to have forgotten.

Turns out, though, he couldn't have been more wrong. 

Your mind and body were washed over with every essence of Joel. When his hand was on your back to gently guide you through rugged terrain or when you instinctively grabbed onto his upper arm when a lone stranger bumped into your third-person party—your mind becomes blank.

The only thing, you said when you finally confessed, you could think about was Joel. Your body would freeze, and time would slow, your heart the only exception as it beats so rapidly you thought it might burst. So, in the end, Joel finds himself elated with pride and pure adoration that he was able to make you feel so free—so full of love.

“Are you gonna do something? Or are you just going to sit here and be ‘old-man’ sad?” 

Joel snapped out of his daze, turning his head toward Ellie. She had her eyebrow raised, with a hand on a freshly opened beer bottle. 

“Gimme that.” He muttered under his breath and swiped the bottle away from her. She let out a small, “Hey! You dick!” before huffing in frustration. “You ain’t even eighteen yet.” He slid the bottle over to Maria, who nodded back to Joel. “I’m almost eighteen!”

He huffed, ignoring Ellie’s comment. “And no. She’s got it handled.” 

You were probably the friendliest, kindest person that Ellie had ever met—especially in this shitty, fucked up world. Along the dusty gravel roads of travel, you would hold her hand and swing back and forth as Joel trailed not far behind. At night, you would shuffle your sleeping bag closer to hers, so you could laugh and giggle at her pun book until falling into a distant slumber. In the mornings, when you and Joel were keeping watch, and a lone stranger would interrupt your three-person party, you jumped in front of Ellie and pointed your shotgun at the intruder. You turned quickly, if not instantly, into a mother figure for her. 

So, Ellie knows that you have got it far from handled. She knows you are completely unsuspecting of the person that was practically throwing himself on top of you. 

“Yeah, you are so full of shit.”

Now, in your defense of the flirting, everyone in Jackson knew not to make a move on you. It has been established from the very beginning that you and Joel are made for each other. All you could ever see was each other. Always. 

So, at the end of things, when someone walked up to you with a bright smile and a gleam in their eyes that screamed “please fuck me,” you didn’t think anything of it. Your mind was no doubt in a Joel Miller trance—thoughts rolling over one another about the plains of his skin and the gruff feeling of his patchy beard on your fingertips. But when a newcomer comes along in the commune and gets introduced to everybody, that’s when they try to make their mark on you. 

“She’s fine—”

“You sure, Joel?” His eyes flickered back towards you and saw the newcomer squeeze your forearm. You think nothing of it and crack another joke at who you thought was a new friend, causing them to throw their head back in very exaggerated laughter. 

And now, Joel wasn’t sure at all—not with the bubbled-up feeling that wrapped around his chest and sunk down into his stomach. He grunted out in response to Ellie, who rolled her eyes at his demeanor. Yeah, he was far from sure. 

“Go say something, Grandpa—”

He raised his eyebrow, “hey—”

“Ellie’s right, you know.” Joel’s head whipped around at Tommy’s voice. “She doesn’t even know the guy’s flirting. She’s too trustin’ of people.” 

He gave his older brother a little smile—an all too knowing teasing smile. Joel didn’t say anything, just downing the rest of his whiskey. The ice clunked against the glass, and the two next to him just watched with anticipation. 

“Your brooding is scaring the customers away. Go say somethin’, Joel.”

He ponders for just a moment—mind circling around all of the different thoughts in his brain. He knows you are just fine. He knows you wouldn’t ever do anything of the sort.

If you actually knew that the man was flirting with you, you would stop it immediately. You’re just kind. You just wanted to make friends. He wanted you to make friends in this little town you had learned to love.

Before Joel even knows it, though, he's getting up from the stool. His own heart had taken over his body and ran home with it. He could just barely hear Ellie cheer for the old man to do something. 

His boots were heavy as he walked across the bar, his wrinkled eyes hardening with every step. His heart squeezed at the pure sight of you—a smile almost turning his frown up. That is until the squeezing of his other thoughts from the man right in front of you suffocated his chest. 

“Joel!” 

God, you sounded so sweet. Your eyes lit up so bright he thought he might be blinded. Whatever you were talking about with your new friend, it completely went out the window when you heard the stomps of his boots. 

“Hi, darlin’.” 

His hand ghosted the small of your back, and it almost caused you to shiver. You looked up at him with a pretty smile, opening your mouth to let him in on the conversation. “We were just talking about patrols. I was saying how we saw that bear with the three cubs the other day! and—”

“Can we help you?” The man, you knew as Brad, scowled right up at Joel for interrupting the conversation the two of you were having earlier. Oh, Joel did not like Brad. The scrunch of his nose as he tried to challenge Joel—as if you were a possession—was kicking up a deep rage in his chest. 

Joel opened his mouth to respond but was met with a very enthusiastic smile from you. You looked so excited. “This is Joel! He’s my—”

Brad rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that’s great. Could he leave now?”

Joel’s back stretched at the complete disrespect. He could handle people being mean to him just fine. When it comes to you, however, he wouldn’t tolerate anything of the sort. You were the thread that kept Ellie and Joel sane with your homemade gifts and fluttering smile. No one was going to ruin that on his watch. 

Joel watched as your bright, smiling face fell.

“Oh.” 

You felt your heart deflate from being interrupted again. It took a lot for someone to build you down, and Brad had managed to do it in no time. You thought you had made a new friend to hang out with. You thought you were finally getting along with someone in Jackson. 

Watching your face fall made something click in Joel’s head. His burning glare never left Brad’s face as he continued to run his mouth about Joel ‘needing to leave’ or something like that. This is why he hated newcomers. They think they could take advantage of your kind gestures and bring you down with them. 

Brad looked at you and then Joel—as if something finally fits in his head. He clicked his tongue, “I have been trying to get you home all night. Don’t tell me you were with him the whole time?”

“What?”

You looked bewildered at the insinuation of ever getting with Brad—let alone anyone that isn’t Joel. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

If Joel wasn’t preoccupied with watching Bradley’s every move, he would’ve snorted at your change in demeanor. You could be the biggest angel there is, but there is no doubt a fire lit right inside of you.

“I have been here with you all fucking night. You think I’d waste my time talking about shitty flowers with you?” His lips curled into a sniveling smirk.

Your hand clenched by your side but was caught as Brad’s hand went to tighten itself around your wrist. You tried to wriggle your way out of his grip, but it felt too firm. “Why don’t you ditch the old man and come with me, sunshine.”

Joel saw the hand on your wrist—the bruising grip he had on you. He saw the sickly, lust-filled eyes that the man was giving you. He knew you could handle yourself. You could throw this random man over your shoulder like he was nothing. 

But something struck him even deeper.

Sunshine.

That was what Joel called you in the secret comfort of whispered feelings. It was what Joel called you when you were badly injured, and he needed to disinfect the wound. The first time it popped into his head was when you were dancing around with Ellie underneath the morning sun. The cute nickname just stuck, and it was his.

Only his. 

Joel snapped in an instant. The long years of survival worked quickly in his brain. He bunched up Brad’s collar and shoved him hard against the wooden pole—jolting his hand from your wrist. “Get your fucking hands off of her.”

You gasped at the lightning speed of Joel’s hand on Brad’s chest, but you weren’t too phased. Adrenaline shot through your chest and spread down to your toes—eyes locking on Joel’s crinkled brows and hard-set glare. 

“Yeah? The fuck you gonna do?” Brad spat.

The bar went silent at the altercation, eyes darting to watch the scene play out. You didn’t pay any attention, though. Your eyes were on Joel. Just Joel.

Brad squirms a bit underneath Joel’s stare, but he seems to be trying to remain tough. Joel’s grip never wavered and almost shoved him further into the pole. 

“If you ever touch her again, I’ll break your fuckin’ arms.” His accent slurred together with each click of his tongue. 

You could feel the fire pulsating through his lips; you could feel it radiate off of his clenched fist. Joel squeezed even tighter against his neck, almost suffocating some of the air in Brad’s throat. He then let out a wheeze, eyes widening at just how serious Joel Miller can be. 

“You got it?” Brad’s eyes squinted at Joel before looking into the crowd around him. Terrified of all the stares and the overwhelming frown on people’s faces—and quite frankly, Joel—Brad finally backs off. 

“Got it.” He said under his breath with a slight cough. Joel very slowly let go of his collar in caution of the man. Brad just nodded, now refusing to make eye contact with the two of you, before sauntering off out of the bar.

Not far behind, Tommy and Maria were alert and watched Brad’s every movement. They had both of your backs as soon as they saw Joel shove him into the pole. Even Ellie was on high alert, which almost caused her to grab the knife in her pocket. 

Joel turned to you in an instant. His eyes glossed over your entire form, grasping every single detail to make sure you were okay. His eyes stopped at the slight tear in your favorite dress. He pursed his lips in annoyance, but then his eyes locked onto your wrist. 

“C’mon. I need to see your wrist.”

═ ∘◦❦◦∘ ═

He took you into the back where the aging room was—old barrels full of whiskey and rum stacked high along the walls. He sat you down on a wooden table and went to go find some supplies. 

You sat there, feeling like you were in trouble. Joel hadn’t said a word, and your mind was starting to race at the possibilities of what he was thinking. While it wasn’t abnormal for Joel to act like this, you knew something wasn’t right.

You could see it in his calculating eyes and furrowed eyebrows—the harsh smile lines on his cheeks almost seemed deeper. You could see it in the way that his hand trembled when he moved some papers to the other end of the table.

You felt stupid for not seeing that Brad was flirting with you. God, you felt so dumb. You really thought that you were making a new friend. You felt even dumber that you couldn’t see the hostility in his eyes, either.

What was Joel thinking? Did he hate you? You knew you mistake people’s flirty gestures for friendly acts way too often.

Did it hurt him? Tears started to form on your lash line, and that sunken feeling in your chest only deepened. 

Joel finally came back with a pack of ice and a little box of first aid. He wrapped a rag around the ice so it wouldn’t burn your skin. 

“Here.” He gently placed it onto your skin, and you went to hold it down. You feel your eyebrow twitch in a cringe at the already bruised surface. You hear Joel digging through the kit in haste—no doubt trying to find some kind of ointment.

You closed your eyes. Your chest was heaving up and down at the thought that Joel had to sit here and take care of you, all while you fucked everything up. 

“I’m sorry.”

Joel’s rummaging through the first aid abruptly stopped. He turned to you with confused furrowed brows, but then his eyes widened. He saw your glossy eyes as you tried to avoid his stare. He saw the way your lip slightly wobbled while you tried to hide your emotions.

“It’s all my fault.” 

You said barely under a whisper, but you were on the side of his good ear. He heard you, and damn, his heart couldn’t have been more crushed. You didn’t do a single thing wrong, and yet you blamed yourself.

“It ain’t your fault. None of it was your fault.” He could tell, though, by the look in your eye that you weren’t convinced. He goes to open his mouth, but you beat him to the punch.

“But I should have known!” You flexed out your hand to emphasize the situation. “I should have said something or got the fucking hint!”

You let out a fast breath, eyes darting across the wood floor. His eyes flickered to the ice pack you set back on the table. “I should—I shouldn’t have been so nice! Maybe I could be less—”

Joel snapped back at the realization of what you were going to say. “Don’t you dare.” His hand instinctively lays on top of your thigh. “Don’t you ever change for people like him.”

“But I–” His hand rested so soft on your cheek, and whatever you were going to say died on your tongue. He was inches away from you now, your chests almost touching together. 

“I know my words are shit, but you are everything, darlin’. You are the kindest and brightest person that I’ve ever known.” He finally rested his forehead against yours. “Don’t you even change for me, darlin’.”

You nodded against his forehead with a small smile on your face. You knew he was right. Of course, he was right. Brad was the shithole, not you. 

He leaned in to brush his lips against yours—feverish and light as you felt the scruff of his beard against your cheeks. He licks into your mouth, and you find yourself pulling him in closer from his flannel collar. 

His tongue swirled through your mouth from desperation starting to lock inside his chest. You have made him feel all kinds of things over the years, but pure love was something he still couldn’t get used to. He needed to feel you—needed to touch you. After the searing memory of Brad’s hand on your wrist, he needed to be inside of you.

“Sweet girl,” he almost purred into your mouth, “need you.” 

You nodded into his lips. A whine escaping them seemed to be the only thing that your brain could come up with. In a mere matter of seconds, Joel was able to turn you into a puddle. 

“Need to hear it, darlin’.”

You don’t miss a beat. “Need you, Joel. Please—”

He bunches up the silky dress, and his eyes shine bright as he sees your pretty laced panties. They were dark—a black onyx—that made Joel want to drool. They rested so well on your hips—so tight. He knew there was a wet patch near your core, too.

His nimble fingers shoved your panties aside to dig—just a little—into your dripping folds. He groaned, rough and bold against the plains of your ear. “J-Joel—”

You knew by the slow, agonizing pace that his hands seemed to feel you in, Joel was going to fuck you stupid. He always got slow and steady when he knew he was going to take his sweet, sweet time. 

“Oh! Oh fuck,” the pads of his fingers move to the nub of your clit. They swirled in small circles, and your hands gripped his shoulders so tightly. Your jaw hangs slack as you feel the pleasure blossom through your stomach to your chest.

“That’s it. Yeah. Does that feel good, pretty girl?”

He was smirking, just a little. You could tell by the sound of his voice, but you see the way his lips slightly curled when your eyes flickered up to his.

“Feels so good, Joel—so—so good.” His other hand spread your legs a little wider for him, relishing in the soft pillows of your skin and curves. He gave your thigh a small squeeze before sinking onto his knees.

Your eyes were about to pop out of your head. “Joel—” You warned, honestly concerned about his knees, but the thought quickly left when his other hand shuffled your underwear down to your ankles. He dragged your hips forward so that your ass was hanging just barely off of the wobbly table. 

“Fuck. Look at you drippin’ for me.”

His eyes shined underneath the yellow-hazed lights. His head goes to dip into your folds, and he moans—sending a rough vibration to your folds. You tasted just the same—earthy and sour and so so sweet.

His hand dug into your thigh—the pad of his thumb was pressing deep into your skin. His tongue flicked and swirled to gather up that slick that dripped from your folds. He felt addicted to you—you tasted, felt, looked, and sounded so ethereal. 

“Oh, Joel—” He could have you on his tongue for the rest of his fucking life. The way you call out his name—hands desperately grabbing at his salt and peppered hair and whimpers leaving your lips. “F-Fuck, I–”

Your brain became even mushier with each flick and whirl of his tongue around your folds. “Can’t get enough of this pussy.” He gruffed.

His mouth moved to your swollen clit, and your hips involuntarily jumped—slightly closing around his head. He pried your thighs open with his rough, used hands before shoving them over his shoulders. 

You didn’t have time to react, though. Not when he was moving a finger to tease your folds. “Joel! Oh my god—” You could only whimper and shout his name. You moan, you gasp, and you whimpered even more. 

It’s all you could think about. Joel Joel Joel. He was all you ever seem to think about. 

His finger slid easily into your sopping cunt, and you moaned into the air. His tongue lapped and sucked against your swollen nub—finger simultaneously curling into you.

“Oh, Joel, I-I can’t—”

His mouth left you, only for a moment, but a whine escaped your lips.

“Gonna cum already, darlin’? Hmm?” He inserted another finger without warning, giving that even longer stretch of your walls. 

You gasped, nonsense mumbling from your tongue. He was sure you said his name in there somewhere. He felt his cock twitch at the sparkle in your eyes and the essence of ecstasy that stretched across your glistening, sweaty skin. His long, thick fingers fucked into over and over—tongue swirling across your pretty little clit.

“C’mon, cum for me. That’s it. You’re such a good girl—my good girl.” You hiccuped, head slung back as your walls continued to clench around his fingers. “You can do it, hmm? Cum on my mouth, sunshine.”

You gasped loudly—body short-circuiting and spasming as the orgasm washed over your entire body. Joel’s name was like a mantra stuck on your tongue. Your body felt white-hot and sticky as your juices flushed against Joel’s chin and your inner thighs. 

Sunshine. Sunshine. You heard that over and over again. He watched with those thick eyes as you came undone. And wow, you looked so pretty. Your gasps and moans, your body shuddering from the shattering pleasure that spreads up and down your body. He wants to remember moments like this instead of the dark ones. 

As you came down from your high, you looked down at Joel. Your strong legs pulled him in a bit closer, and you leaned down to press a kiss to his nose. He just looked up at you—no doubt he had the biggest heart eyes on you that anyone had ever seen. 

You started to laugh from the enormous high—cum running down your legs and the fact that not even fifteen minutes ago, you were hassled by another man. The whole situation seemed funny to you now. 

Joel cracked his own smile, just for you. He caressed your cheek and rubbed his thumb back and forth. “Let’s go home, sunshine.” 

You weren’t even sure he caught himself the second time when he called you that. It just flowed off of his tongue so easily.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you couldn’t help but smile as wide as you could. You knew what that meant—what he was insinuating. A fire lit inside of your chest. Damn, you could never get used to the way Joel would make you feel.

He grumbled under his breath. “Shut up. I got it.”

Yeah, he definitely didn’t. He needed your help not two seconds later, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You were Joel’s. Joel was yours.

[mimimarvelingmarvel]

time bound part two

pairing: worst wolverine!logan howlett x f!mutant!reader

Part Two - Masterlist

summary: Y/n’s life takes a dramatic turn when the Time Variance Authority intervenes, pulling her from a critical moment in her timeline. The TVA sends her to the void where she eventually meets with Deadpool and a very familiar face. With Deadpool's universe in the balance, alongside his reluctant would-be pal, Wolverine, and the enigmatic time-bending mutant known as the Veil, the trio must complete the mission and save Deadpool’s world from an existential threat.

overall warnings: 18+, Fem!Reader, AFAB Reader, Use of Y/N, Her X-Men name is Veil, She/her pronouns, Swearing, Angst, Heavy Violence, Character Death, Deadpool (he’s his own warning), Hurt, Fluff, Angst, Eventual Smut, Slow Burn, TVA

word count: 1.9k

Months have passed since Johnny and I first crossed paths in the bleak void of the multiverse. In that time, the Borderlands have evolved from a chaotic, unsettling expanse into a strange but surprisingly reliable haven. I've acclimated to its disjointed blend of makeshift settlements and the diverse, often eccentric band of misfits who call it home. One of them is Laura, a fierce warrior with a rough edge, but a surprising softness beneath her surface. She once tried to explain the nature of my variant in her universe, but when she mentioned Logan, it struck a nerve too deep for me to handle. 

Today, Johnny and I are on a reconnaissance mission near the heart of the void, tasked with scouting for any unusual movements. We trudge through the arid expanse, our boots crunching softly over the dry, sandy terrain. The sky is a turbulent mix of colors, the horizon a jagged line of shifting shadows and light. Alioth.

The constant strain of maintaining control over my powers in this inhospitable space is wearing me thin. I can’t afford to let my guard down. We push through a small sandstorm that sweeps across the landscape, its gritty particles stinging my skin. I keep my eyes sharp and my hand resting on the hilt of my blade—a gift from Electra, a gesture of trust and camaraderie.

The oppressive quiet is almost a physical presence, the weight of isolation pressing down on me. We are about to turn back when a sudden disturbance breaks through the stillness. My heart skips a beat as the faint sounds of a skirmish reach my ears. Johnny’s hand clamps firmly on my arm, his grip conveying urgency.

“Did you hear that?” he growls, his voice low and taut with focus.

“Yeah,” I reply, straining to discern the sounds amidst the howling wind. The unmistakable clang of metal and the harsh grunts of a fight grow louder. “Let’s check it out.”

We advance cautiously, our footsteps muffled by the shifting sands, moving toward the source of the commotion. As we approach a tall, metal structure, I begin to climb it, Johnny following to gain a better vantage point. The structure, a rusted remnant of some long-forgotten machinery, creaks under our weight. From the top, the view unfolds before me, and what I see makes my breath catch in my throat.

Two figures are locked in combat below us, their movements a blur of speed and violence. The first is a Deadpool variant, clad in a distinctive black-and-red suit. He’s wielding a pair of katanas with an expert’s precision, slicing through the air with practiced ease. His opponent is unmistakably Wolverine, his adamantium claws extended and gleaming with a deadly sheen. Logan moves with a predator's grace, slashing and dodging with equal skill.

At first, I can hardly believe my eyes. A Wolverine—how could one of his variants be here? My mind races, struggling to reconcile this unexpected sight with everything I know. The scene is almost surreal, like a twisted mirror reflecting a reality I can barely grasp. I glance at Johnny, whose expression has turned serious, his eyes narrowed in concentration.

“Is that…?” I start, my voice trailing off, unable to articulate the confusion swirling in my mind.

“Yeah,” Johnny confirms, his tone grim. “Looks like we’ve got some serious anomalies here. We need to find out what’s going on.”

I watch as Deadpool and Wolverine continue their fierce exchange, their movements a violent dance. Deadpool’s agile maneuvers and rapid strikes are met with Logan’s relentless aggression. Despite the chaos, there’s a strange familiarity in their fighting styles—both driven by an intensity that makes them almost mirror images of each other.

“What the hell is going on?” I mutter under my breath, my mind reeling from the disorienting sight.

Johnny’s eyes remain sharp as he observes the conflict below. “We need to intervene. This could spiral out of control, and Cassandra could notice.”

Before I can respond, Johnny is already moving, his voice ringing out with authority as he shouts to the combatants. “Hey! We fight each other, we lose.”

The two fighters momentarily pause, their heads turning toward Johnny as he approaches. Deadpool’s head tilts, his mask concealing any visible expression, but his posture suggests surprise. “Dear god, it’s him.” His voice carries a mix of awe and disbelief. I watch cautiously from above, hesitant to step in, my heart pounding at the sight of Wolverine. He looks so much like my own Logan that the resemblance is almost painful.

Deadpool’s voice rings out with an irreverent edge. “Fair warning, gorgeous. You’re going to encounter some indelicate language. A smidge of ass play, but we’ve been prohibited from using cocaine on camera.”

Johnny, unfazed, urges me to move. “Veil, let’s go.” He turns to address me directly, his tone focused and commanding.

Logan’s head whips up, his eyes locking onto me with a mixture of suspicion and recognition. “Y/N?”

I jump down cautiously, my heart in my throat as I watch Logan tense, his claws extending in readiness. I land, a knee on the ground.

“Now that’s a superhero landing!”

“Who the fuck are you?” Logan demands, his voice a harsh growl, the tension palpable.

Deadpool’s eyes widen in realization. “Buddy, I think that’s—”

“Shut the fuck up. I didn’t ask you.”

In that moment, I see it—the familiar huff of his breath, the furrow of his brows, and the flare of his nostrils. I’d recognize my Logan anywhere. His eyes flicker with something unspoken, a mixture of relief and anguish, and his claws slowly retract.

I step closer, my breath catching in my throat. I can barely hold back the tears as I take another step and break into a small run. Logan meets me halfway, his arms enveloping me in a tight embrace. “I thought you died,” he says, his voice choked with emotion as he buries his face into my neck. I squeeze him tightly, my tears mingling with his.

“The TVA, they sent me away. I tried to find you.” I pause, my voice faltering with the weight of unspoken pain. “The others?” I ask, my eyes searching his for answers. He shakes his head, and my face crumples in grief. I had feared this would happen.

Johnny’s voice cuts through the moment, sharp with urgency. “They’re coming.”

I pull away from Logan at Johnny’s warning, my heart pounding as I steel myself. Logan’s face is a mask of pain, and I feel the crushing weight of my failure. I could have saved them all.

Deadpool’s voice interjects with a mix of confusion and curiosity. “Who’s they?”

The answer comes in the form of an onslaught of vehicles, their jumbled piles of mechanics and scrap metal creating a menacing approach. Toad, Pyro, and Sabertooth are among those heading our way, their presence a foreboding sign of trouble.

Deadpool sidles up beside me, his tone laced with a twisted humor. “Oh, they’re driving angry. Can we pick this reunion up later, pumpkin?” He glances at me, then at Logan, who mirrors my confusion.

Johnny steps forward, his posture exuding determination. “I got this.”

I steady myself, preparing for the impending fight. “Stay close,” Johnny warns, and I move closer to him, readying myself for whatever comes next. Behind me, I hear Logan release his claws, the familiar sound providing a strange comfort amidst the chaos.

The cars circle us, forming a tight encirclement. “Cassandra is going to be giddy when she sees what we caught. You can’t run. Everybody knows that.” Pyro’s voice drips with malice as their vehicles come to a halt.

“You see anyone running, dick for brains? You’re not gonna love what happens next,” Johnny retorts.

Deadpool’s voice breaks in with manic excitement. “Oh, oh my God. Oh my God, he’s going to say it. Ha! Oh my God, he’s gonna say it!”

Johnny grins, preparing for his signature move. “Avengers—”

“—Flame on!” 

“What?”

I look at Deadpool with a mix of bewilderment and exasperation as Johnny ignites in a ball of fire. Pyro watches, amused and relaxed. I create a temporal clone in the sky, urging it to engage as I manipulate time, freezing the action momentarily. As I resume time, Pyro defeats Johnny’s clone with a burst of flames. The real Johnny lands beside me.

“I know you,” growls a voice from ahead, and I turn to see Sabertooth approaching with a predatory glare.

Deadpool’s voice is a mix of awe and irreverence. “Holy shit… Sabertooth… your brother.”

I snap at him. “Deadpool, can it.”

Sabertooth snarls, his voice a deep rumble. “Ready to die!”

Logan prepares to fight, his stance resolute. Deadpool adds with exaggerated seriousness, “Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait! Time! People have waited decades for this fight. It’s not gonna be easy. Maybe not. Shoot the double and take him down. Side control, then full mount and you ground and pound, until he makes no sound because he’s dead.” He’s gripping Logan’s shoulders.

Wolverine’s expression hardens. “Shut the fuck up.”

Deadpool responds with a mix of arousal and admiration. “Oh my God. Okay, good luck. I’m a huge fan.”

The battle erupts with a ferocity that is almost immediate. Logan’s claws flash with deadly precision, and he swiftly decapitates Sabertooth. The severed head skids to a stop in front of Deadpool, who remarks with a grim humor, “What is it, girl? Is there trouble at the well?” It stops at his feet. “Oh, big trouble.” As Deadpool leans down and picks up Sabertooth’s severed head, I can’t help but grimace at the gory mess. Blood drips onto the sand, and Deadpool’s voice rings out with a bizarre sense of theatricality. 

“Behold! The head of your precious queen, Furiosa!” Deadpool announces dramatically, holding the head aloft like a trophy. “I have the Wolverine. I alone control her. You come for me! You come for her!” He points accusingly at Logan. I furrow my brows in confusion. “I’m so sorry. I know it’s pronounced ‘him.’ I’m gender blind. It’s my cross to bear,” he adds with a wink, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Logan, breathing heavily from the intense battle, turns to me. “Who’s next?”

“Toad! You’re up!” Pyro’s voice cuts through the chaos, and I can’t help but let out a mischievous giggle. I watch with amusement as Toad sticks out his grotesque, warty tongue. I pull out my blade, my eyes narrowed in focus. With a quick, precise motion, I slice through the air, severing the tongue cleanly. It falls to the ground with a wet, squishy plop.

“Fucking nasty,” I mutter as the severed tongue writhes like a headless worm. The sight is both disgusting and oddly fascinating. Toad lets out a high-pitched scream of anguish, and as the chaos escalates, someone flips a switch. I turn just in time to see Logan hurtling towards me, and I brace myself. 

Before I can react, Deadpool appears behind me, and the next thing I know, we’re all smashed together against a massive magnet. The force of the impact slams us into a heap, and I feel myself being crushed between Deadpool and Logan.

“Uh-oh. Holy shi—” Deadpool starts to exclaim before the sound is abruptly cut off. 

The giant magnet presses down hard, and I feel a wave of darkness engulf me. The last thing I hear is Johnny’s distant shout, filled with frustration and concern.

Next Part

A/N: Let me know what you think! I’m sort of loving and hating my writing, next part will be Logan’s POV (maybe)

[thatdammchickennugget]

hello!

are you taking requests?

(if you've already done this before, just ignore this, but...)

if you are, can you write a one-shot about mattheo and reader just doing something together, like maybe they're partners for potions or something or they just happen to sit at the same table in the library, but mattheo notices that the reader has some noticible scars, and they kind of just bond over scars? like the reader is kind of just uncomfortable talking about them, and mattheo notices so he starts pointing out his own scars and how he got them?

(btw, i love your writing! <3)

Marked by scars

pairing - mattheo riddle x gn!reader

warnings - mention of scars, fluff, mattheo is a softie, not proof read

wordcount - 1.8k

a/n - heya!! thank you so much! I wasn't planning on writing today but I saw this request and just had to do it right away. thanks for requesting, love💕

The edge of the Forbidden Forest loomed ominously as you trudged alongside Mattheo. Professor Slughorn's latest assignment had paired you with the notorious Slytherin, a boy rumored to be as prickly as the thorns lining the forest's edge.

The assignment had looked simple enough, the only catch: the most important ingredient of the potion – purple moonshade – was not to be found in the Professor’s cabinet and seemed to be out of stock at Hogsmeade, leaving the two of you to collect some yourself.

"Are you sure we're headed in the right direction?" you asked, glancing skeptically at the dense undergrowth around you.

The Slytherin cast a sideways glance at you, his expression unreadable behind his usual mask of indifference. "It should be around here," he replied curtly, his eyes scanning the canopy above.

Silence settled between you, broken only by the rustling of leaves and the occasional snap of a twig underfoot. You had expected arrogance and disdain when Professor Slughorn put you two together, everything you had known about him coming from random bits of conversation you caught around the castle. But so far, Mattheo had been surprisingly cooperative—focused on the task at hand without unnecessary confrontation.

As you approached a rocky outcrop, Mattheo suddenly halted, his gaze fixed on a ledge just out of reach. "There," he murmured, pointing to a cluster of delicate purple blooms clinging to the sheer rock face.

Your heart sank. Apparently, this wasn’t going to be as quick and easy as you had hoped. "How are we supposed to get up there?"

He studied the incline, calculating silently. "We'll have to climb."

With a reluctant nod, you began scaling the rocky terrain, your hands gripping onto jutting rocks and roots for leverage. Mattheo followed suit, his movements much more fluid and controlled. As you reached for a higher ledge, you cringed as you felt your shirt ride up slightly, revealing a network of scars—some thin and faded, others more pronounced and jagged—across your side.

Mattheo's gaze flickered downwards, his brow furrowing imperceptibly. The tension in his shoulders stiffened, a faint flicker of surprise crossing his features before he quickly averted his eyes.

You shifted uncomfortably, the sudden awareness of his scrutiny making your skin prickle. "What?" you asked, your voice tinged with unease.

he hesitated, his usually composed demeanor faltering for a moment. "I... I didn't realize," he started, his voice softer than usual.

You finally crawled up onto the ledge next to the flower and pulled your shirt down quickly, feeling exposed and vulnerable under his gaze. "It's... it's nothing," you muttered, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

Mattheo didn't respond immediately, his silence stretching as he climbed up beside you and settled onto the rocky ledge. The delicate purple blooms swayed gently in the breeze, their fragrance mingling with the earthy scent of the forest.

Finally, after a moment of awkward silence, he spoke, his voice quieter than usual yet tinged with a newfound empathy. "It's not nothing," he began, his eyes fixed on the delicate purple petals. "They tell stories."

You swallowed, unsure how to respond to this. The forest around you seemed to hold its breath, as if mirroring your own unease.

"They're stories I'd rather forget," you admitted softly, trying to steady your voice.

Mattheo nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. "I used to feel the same about mine," he confessed, his fingers absently tracing a particularly prominent scar on his forearm.

Curiosity mingled with apprehension as you stole a glance at him, surprised by his openness. "You don’t anymore?"

Mattheo met your gaze with a hint of introspection, his fingers still idly tracing the scar on his forearm. "No, not anymore," he admitted quietly, his voice carrying a weight of vulnerability that mirrored your own.

You found yourself leaning in slightly, drawn by his unexpected openness. "What changed?" you asked softly, your curiosity outweighing your earlier discomfort.

His gaze flickered towards the canopy of leaves above your heads, as if searching for the right words. "Time, I suppose," he began slowly. "Understanding. Acceptance." His voice held a note of resignation, as if he had come to terms with something profound.

Mattheo took a deep breath, his gaze returning to meet yours with a newfound intensity. "Understanding that these scars, they're not just reminders of pain. They're markers of survival, of growth," he explained, his voice steady yet tinged with emotion.

You listened intently, captivated by the sincerity in his words. The forest around you seemed to echo his sentiments, the rustling leaves and distant calls of magical creatures creating a serene backdrop to your conversation.

"I used to hide them," he continued, his tone reflective. "Like they were something to be ashamed of. But then I realized... they're a part of me. Each scar tells a story of a challenge I faced and overcame."

A gentle breeze stirred the branches overhead, casting dappled shadows across the rocky ledge where you sat. You shifted slightly, feeling a sense of kinship with Mattheo's vulnerability. "I've never thought of it that way," you admitted softly, your gaze drifting to the scars that adorned your own skin.

Mattheo's expression softened, a faint smile playing at his lips. "It took me a while to see it too," he confessed. "But I've come to appreciate them now. I guess my friends helped me with it. Made me see them as a testament to resilience."

His words resonated deeply within you, touching a chord you hadn't realized was there. "Resilience," you echoed, the word carrying a weight of significance as you considered the scars that had once caused you so much discomfort.

"You shouldn't be ashamed of yours," he said gently, his voice carrying an earnestness that surprised you. "They're a part of your journey."

You nodded, feeling a surge of gratitude towards him for his understanding. "Thank you," you murmured. "For... for sharing this with me."

As you sat together on the rocky ledge, the forest around you seemed to embrace the quiet intimacy of your conversation. Mattheo shifted slightly, his gaze thoughtful as he met yours. "Would you like to hear about one of mine?" he offered tentatively, his tone inviting yet cautious.

You nodded, grateful for his willingness to share. "I'd like that," you admitted, a flicker of curiosity sparking in your eyes.

Mattheo took a moment, as if gathering his thoughts. "This scar," he began, indicating the one that crossed his nose, "came from my first year at Hogwarts."

Intrigued, you leaned in slightly, eager to hear more.

"I got into a rather... heated disagreement with Theo," Mattheo continued with a small, self-deprecating smile. "We used to hate each other, clashed right from the start. I suppose we were both trying to prove ourselves in our own ways."

He chuckled softly, a wry smile playing on his lips as he recalled the memory. "Theo and I were like fire and ice back then," he admitted, shaking his head with amusement. "Always at each other's throats over the smallest things. It didn't help that we were both sorted into Slytherin—like two stubborn bulls in a pen."

You couldn't help but laugh at the image he painted, the tension of the moment easing as his story unfolded. "What was the disagreement about?" you asked, genuinely curious about the details of their early rivalry.

Mattheo rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Honestly, I can't even remember now," he confessed, his eyes crinkling at the corners with amusement. "Probably something ridiculously trivial, like who could brew a better potion or who could cast a spell faster."

You nodded in understanding. "So, what happened?" you prompted, eager to hear more.

Mattheo leaned back slightly, his expression thoughtful. "Well, it escalated to a duel, of course," he admitted with sheepish a grin. "We were both so caught up in proving ourselves that we didn't see sense. And, well..." He gestured casually to the scar across his nose. "The spell ricocheted off a mirror and zapped me right here."

You winced sympathetically, though his lighthearted tone made the mishap seem less dire. "Ouch," you commented.

"Yeah, not my finest moment," Mattheo agreed with a chuckle, his eyes crinkling warmly. "But you know what? That scar became a badge of honor between us. After that incident, we realized how ridiculous we were being."

"It sounds like quite the turning point," you remarked.

He nodded, a fondness in his gaze as he recalled the aftermath. "Absolutely. He’s my best friend now. We laugh about it now, but back then, it was a wake-up call. Sometimes you need a scar—literal or metaphorical—to show you what's important."

"I suppose you should thank Theo then," you quipped, a playful grin tugging at your lips, surprised by how quickly he managed to cheer you up. "That scar does add to your rugged charm, after all."

Mattheo raised an eyebrow, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Oh, absolutely," he replied with mock seriousness. "It's my signature look now. Makes me look like I've been through some epic battles."

"I guess you could say it gives you that mysterious, battle-hardened aura," you added, your tone light and teasing.

Mattheo grinned, a genuine warmth in his eyes that softened his usually guarded expression. "Well, if it helps with the intimidation factor, I'll take it.”

As you both sat on the rocky ledge, the last rays of sunlight filtered through the trees, casting a warm glow over the forest floor. After a moment, he turned back to you. "Ready to head back?" he asked, gesturing towards the bag of carefully collected flowers.

You nodded, grabbing the bag and sitting up on your knees. "Definitely.”

Mattheo stood up gracefully, extending a hand to help you down from the ledge. "Careful there," he cautioned gently as you maneuvered your way down, his touch steady and reassuring.

"Thanks," you murmured gratefully.

Together, you navigated the rocky terrain back towards the Hogwarts grounds, the forest slowly fading into the background as the castle came into view. The journey back was quieter than before, but not awkward—there was a newfound ease between you, a shared understanding forged through what he confided in you.

As you approached the castle gates, Mattheo glanced over at you, his expression softening with a hint of sincerity. "I'm glad we managed to find the moonshade," he said quietly, his eyes meeting yours briefly before flicking away.

"Me too," you admitted, a small smile playing on your lips. "And... thank you, for what you told me. I didn't expect... well, any of this."

He inclined his head slightly, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as his dark curls tumbled across his forehead. "Neither did I," he confessed, his voice earnest. "But I'm glad it turned out this way."

"Thanks again, Mattheo," you said softly, hesitant to step away yet and unable to suppress a small smile.

"Anytime," he replied quietly, his voice carrying a warmth that surprised you.

With a nod of farewell, you turned to make your way to your common room, your mind buzzing with thoughts of the Slytherin boy.

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Forge of Starlight - Part 4

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; In the heart of Velaris, a skilled blacksmith's quiet life is turned upside down when unexpected bonds begin to form with the enigmatic Spymaster of the Night Court. As she navigates the challenges of her craft and the complexities of newfound relationships, she discovers that love and loyalty may be the strongest forces of all in a world where darkness often lingers just beyond the light.

word count ; 5k

warning; /

notes; heyy, I hope that all of you are doing fine ! Here is part 4, pretty calm chapter but I think that you will like it ;))) To be honest I'm already done writing the story, I might change some details because I'm still not really happy about some parts but the overall storyline is finished. Otherwise don't hesitate to comment or ask to be on the tag list ;)) I'm always super happy to see your feedbacks and comments on the story. See you soon, bisous bisoussss

here is the link for part 3 or part 5

---

Wrapped in the warmth of a thick, fur-lined cape, you made your way through the vast and unforgiving landscape that led to the Winter Court. The journey had been long, the cold biting at your skin despite the layers of wool and leather beneath your armor. Your boots crunched through the snow with every step, the sound a constant reminder of the icy terrain you traversed. The fur trim of your cape brushed against your face, shielding you from the harsh winds that howled through the mountains.

Your outfit was designed for both warmth and practicality—leather pants tucked into sturdy boots, a long-sleeved woolen tunic layered under a thick, high-collared vest, and over it all, the heavy cape that provided not just warmth, but protection from the elements. The fur-lined hood of the cape was pulled low over your brow, keeping the icy wind from nipping at your face. Gloves made of soft, supple leather protected your hands, though your fingers itched for the familiar feel of your weapons.

The landscape around you was breathtakingly beautiful, despite its harshness. The snow-covered mountains rose like jagged teeth against the clear, cold sky, their peaks piercing the heavens. The ground beneath your feet was a blanket of pristine white, unmarked by any sign of life save for the occasional tracks of a snow hare or a fox. The air was crisp and clean, filling your lungs with a chill that was both invigorating and biting.

As you neared the Winter Court, the terrain began to change subtly. The trees, tall and ancient, were dusted with snow, their branches heavy with the weight of winter. The air grew colder, the wind sharper, as you approached the heart of Kallias’s domain. The palace, when it came into view, was a marvel of ice and stone, a structure that seemed to rise organically from the frozen earth itself. Its spires glistened in the weak sunlight, the walls shimmering as if carved from a single massive block of ice. It was both awe-inspiring and foreboding, a testament to the power of the High Lord who ruled within.

As you entered the grand hall, the cold air seemed to intensify, but you were prepared for it. Your breath misted before you as you walked, the sound of your footsteps echoing off the ice-encrusted walls. The interior of the palace was no less magnificent than its exterior—glittering chandeliers of ice hung from the ceiling, casting a cool, ethereal light across the room. The floors were a mosaic of frosted tiles, and the walls were adorned with intricate carvings that depicted the history and power of the Winter Court.

Kallias awaited you at the far end of the hall, his tall, imposing figure clad in robes of pure white, trimmed with silver. His eyes, as cold and sharp as the winter wind, met yours as you approached, and he offered a nod of acknowledgment.

"Y/N," he greeted, his voice as icy as his surroundings. "I trust your journey was without incident?"

You inclined your head in respect. "It was, High Lord. The Winter Court is as beautiful as ever."

Kallias’s lips curved into a small, almost imperceptible smile. "It is. And I am eager to see the weapon you have forged for me."

With a practiced motion, you unclasped the leather strap that secured the long, narrow case at your side. Carefully, you lifted the lid, revealing the weapon within—a glaive, forged from the finest steel, its blade gleaming with an icy blue sheen that seemed to capture the essence of winter itself. The hilt was intricately designed, resembling the ancient, snow-laden trees of the Winter Court, with delicate, frost-like etchings that trailed along its length. At the base of the hilt, a crystal embedded in the pommel caught the light, glittering like freshly fallen snow.

Kallias’s eyes gleamed with appreciation as he took in the sight of the weapon. He stepped forward, his gloved hand reaching out to grasp the hilt. The glaive fit perfectly in his hand, its weight balanced, its craftsmanship flawless. He swung it once, the blade cutting through the air with a sharp, crisp sound that resonated through the hall.

"It’s exquisite," Kallias said, his voice filled with genuine admiration. "You’ve outdone yourself, Y/N."

You bowed your head slightly, a smile tugging at your lips. "I’m glad it meets your expectations, High Lord. It was an honor to craft something for the Winter Court."

Kallias’s gaze lingered on the weapon for a moment longer before he turned his icy eyes back to you. "It more than meets my expectations. It surpasses them. You have a gift, Y/N, and I’m fortunate to have been able to commission such a weapon from you."

There was a moment of silence as Kallias continued to study the glaive, the air between you filled with the mutual respect of two artisans—one of ice, one of steel. Finally, he nodded, his expression softening just slightly.

"You must be tired from your journey," Kallias said, his tone shifting to something more cordial. "Please, stay as my guest. You are welcome in the Winter Court as long as you wish."

You inclined your head again, appreciating the offer. "Thank you, High Lord. I may take you up on that, but I must return to the Night Court soon. There are other matters that require my attention."

Kallias nodded in understanding. "Of course. But for now, rest. My stewards will see to your needs."

With that, he handed the glaive back to you, and you secured it once more in its case. As you followed the steward who had been summoned to lead you to your quarters, you couldn’t help but marvel at the power and grace of the Winter Court—its beauty, its cold, unyielding strength. The journey had been long, but the successful delivery of such a finely crafted weapon made it all worthwhile.

As you were led to your quarters, you wondered what the days ahead would bring, knowing that whatever challenges lay before you, you were more than prepared to face them.

After a much-needed rest in the luxurious quarters provided by Kallias, you found yourself summoned to dinner with the High Lord and his wife, Viviane. The invitation was delivered with the same formality and grace that characterized the Winter Court, and you dressed accordingly, choosing an outfit that was both practical for the cold and respectful of the occasion. You opted for a tailored, high-collared tunic in deep blue, paired with fitted leather pants and sturdy boots designed for both warmth and movement. Over the tunic, you wore a vest of finely stitched leather, its dark hue matching the rich blue of your tunic, and lined with fur for added warmth. A thick, fur-lined cloak draped over your shoulders, adding the final touch of protection against the biting cold.

The dining hall itself was as magnificent as the rest of the palace, with walls of ice that seemed to glow in the soft candlelight. A grand table made of polished, dark wood stood at the center, set with fine crystal and silverware that sparkled under the light. Kallias and Viviane were already seated when you arrived, their regal presence filling the room with an aura of quiet power.

Viviane greeted you with a warm smile, her blue eyes sparkling with kindness. “Y/N, it’s a pleasure to have you join us. Please, sit. I hope the accommodations were to your liking?”

You returned her smile, inclining your head respectfully as you took the seat offered to you. “Thank you, Lady Viviane. The accommodations were perfect—your hospitality is most generous.”

Kallias nodded in agreement, his expression calm and composed. “We are glad to hear that. You’ve traveled far, and your work has been extraordinary. You deserve the best.”

As the first course was served—a delicate soup made with winter vegetables and fragrant herbs—you found yourself relaxing into the atmosphere. The warmth of the fire crackling in the hearth, combined with the rich scents of the food, created a sense of comfort that was almost surprising in the cold grandeur of the palace.

As the meal progressed, Kallias leaned back slightly, regarding you with an inquisitive gaze. “Tell me, Y/N,” he began, his voice casual but laced with curiosity, “are you finally settling down? It’s not often we hear of someone as skilled as you staying in one place for long.”

You smiled softly, nodding as you set down your spoon. “Yes, I’ve returned to my roots. I’ve settled back in the Night Court, where I grew up. It feels right to be back home, even after all the years of traveling.”

Kallias’s eyes sharpened with interest, though he remained composed. “The Night Court, you say? And how has that been? Is it… a unique place, from what I’ve heard.”

You nodded again, careful with your words. “It’s been a good experience, returning to the Night Court. It has its own charm, and I’ve found a certain peace there that I didn’t realize I was missing.”

Viviane, ever the gracious hostess, leaned forward slightly, her gaze warm. “It must be wonderful to return to your roots after so long. I can imagine it offers a sense of stability, something to hold onto.”

“It does,” you agreed. “After years of traveling and crafting for different courts, it’s good to have a place to call home again.”

Kallias seemed to consider this for a moment before his expression shifted slightly, a more contemplative look in his eyes. “Y/N, do you see yourself as a blacksmith for the rest of your life?”

The question caught you off guard, and you hesitated for a moment before responding. “I’ve dedicated most of my life to the craft. It’s something I’m deeply passionate about. But… I’ve also wondered if there’s more I could do, especially now that I’m settled in one place.”

Kallias nodded thoughtfully, as if weighing something in his mind. “With your skills and the relationships you’ve built across the courts, have you ever considered becoming an emissary? You already have a good rapport with most of the High Lords, and your experience is invaluable.”

You blinked in surprise, the idea not one you had expected to hear. “An emissary?” you repeated, trying to imagine the shift from blacksmith to diplomat. “It’s not something I’ve considered before… but I suppose it could be an interesting path.”

Kallias was about to continue when he seemed to catch himself, a small, knowing smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Of course, that’s a matter for Rhysand to consider. While our relations with the Night Court are… decent, I’m not one to aid in growing another court’s power.”

There was a hint of amusement in his tone, and you couldn’t help but smile in return. “I understand, High Lord. And I appreciate the suggestion, though. It’s something I’ll have to think about.”

Viviane reached out, placing a gentle hand on Kallias’s arm. “Don’t mind him, Y/N. He’s always thinking three steps ahead, even during a simple dinner.”

Kallias chuckled softly, inclining his head. “Indeed, but it’s worth considering. Your talents shouldn’t be confined to one craft alone, no matter how extraordinary it may be.”

The conversation continued in a more relaxed manner as the evening wore on, the three of you discussing everything from the beauty of the Winter Court to tales of your travels. Despite the formality of the setting, there was an ease to the dinner that you hadn’t anticipated—a warmth that contrasted pleasantly with the cold elegance of the palace.

As the dinner came to an end, you felt a sense of satisfaction not just from the meal, but from the knowledge that you were appreciated here in the Winter Court. The suggestion of becoming an emissary lingered in your mind, a seed planted by Kallias that you knew would take root in the days to come.

For now, though, you allowed yourself to enjoy the moment, grateful for the hospitality of the Winter Court and the new possibilities that lay ahead.

Later that evening, after the dinner with Kallias and Viviane, you found yourself back in the comfort of your room. The luxurious quarters were warm and inviting, the fire crackling softly in the hearth as you settled into a plush chair by the window. The view outside was breathtaking—a serene expanse of snow-covered mountains under a clear, starlit sky. The quiet beauty of the Winter Court seemed almost surreal after the intense conversations of the day.

As you stared out at the snow-draped landscape, your thoughts began to drift back to the events that had transpired before your journey here—specifically, the night with Cassian. The memory of his broken wings and the dark curse that had infested his body sent a shiver down your spine. You had dealt with injuries before, but nothing quite like that. The sight of Cassian in such a vulnerable state, combined with the pressure of having to save him, had shaken you more than you cared to admit.

You couldn’t help but wonder how Cassian was doing now. Madja was a skilled healer, but the curse had been something different—something darker and more insidious. You hoped that your efforts, combined with Madja’s expertise, would be enough to see him fully recovered.

But your thoughts didn’t linger on Cassian for long. Instead, they wandered to Azriel—his overprotective reaction when you mentioned your journey to the Winter Court. You had been taken aback by the intensity in his eyes, the way his voice had tightened with worry when he insisted that you couldn’t go alone. It was unlike him, or at least unlike the composed, stoic Azriel you had come to know.

A small blush crept up your cheeks as you recalled the way he had draped his jacket over your shoulders before flying you home. The warmth of the leather, combined with his proximity, had stirred something in you—a feeling you hadn’t allowed yourself to acknowledge until now. Azriel was undeniably attractive, with his dark, brooding looks and those piercing hazel eyes that seemed to see right through you. But more than that, he was one of the most skilled warriors in Prythian, a member of the Inner Circle, and someone who carried a weight of responsibility that few could comprehend.

You let out a small sigh, feeling a mixture of admiration and frustration. Azriel was everything you weren’t—an elite warrior, trusted confidant of the High Lord, and part of a circle that wielded immense power and influence. What were you, in comparison? A blacksmith, skilled in your craft, but still just someone who worked with metal and fire. You had traveled far and gained respect across the courts, but it was hard to shake the feeling that Azriel was somehow out of your league.

You couldn’t deny the attraction, though. Every time you thought of him—his calm presence, his quiet strength—it sent your heart fluttering in a way that was both thrilling and terrifying. But you reminded yourself that someone like Azriel wouldn’t be interested in you, not in that way. He was dedicated to his duties, and you… you were just a blacksmith. 

Still, the memory of his protective concern lingered, the way his eyes had softened slightly when he insisted on flying you home. It was a gesture that spoke of something deeper, something that made your heart ache with longing.

You shook your head, trying to push the thoughts away. It was foolish to dwell on such things. Azriel was a friend, and that was enough. There was no sense in imagining something that could never be.

But even as you told yourself that, you couldn’t help the small, wistful smile that tugged at your lips. Perhaps, just perhaps, there was more to Azriel’s concern than simple duty. Perhaps there was a connection there, one that went beyond the roles you both played.

With a sigh, you stood and walked over to the window, staring out at the endless expanse of snow and stars. The Winter Court was beautiful, but your mind was already drifting back to Velaris, to the Night Court, and to the people who had become an unexpected but welcome part of your life.

And as you stood there, bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight, you couldn’t help but wonder what the future held—for you and perhaps most of all, for Azriel.

—— 

Back in Velaris, the shop was quieter than usual. Without the rhythmic clang of metal on metal or the hum of the forge, the space felt almost too still, the usual lively energy dampened by your absence. But that didn’t stop Alex from doing his best to keep things running smoothly. He was darting between customers, expertly answering questions and showcasing various weapons with the kind of enthusiasm that belied his young age. Stellan, your faithful direwolf, was sprawled out near the counter, watching the activity with an expression that could only be described as long-suffering patience.

A particularly persistent client had been lingering in the shop for the better part of an hour, his eyes darting around as if expecting to spot you at any moment. He was a tall, lanky man with a nervous energy, and he had been pestering Alex incessantly.

“Are you sure she’s not here?” the man asked for what felt like the hundredth time, his tone edging on desperation. “I need to speak with Y/N directly.”

Alex, who had been maintaining his polite demeanor with admirable restraint, forced a smile that was beginning to strain at the edges. “As I’ve already mentioned, sir, Y/N is currently away on business. She won’t be back until next week.”

The man’s eyes narrowed as if Alex were trying to trick him. “But I really need to speak with her. Can’t you just call her? Or maybe she’s in the back?”

Alex’s forced smile twitched, and he muttered under his breath, “On the name of the goddamn Mother, I’m going to hit him.” He forced his voice back to a more polite tone as he said, “I’ve already checked, sir. She’s definitely not in the back. And no, I can’t call her—she’s in the Winter Court. They don’t exactly have a postal service for emergencies.”

The client frowned, clearly dissatisfied with the answer. “But this is important! Can’t you at least take a message?”

“Sir,” Alex said, his voice straining to maintain its politeness, “I’ve taken five messages from you already. I promise I’ll give them all to Y/N when she returns. But for now, there’s really nothing more I can do.”

The man didn’t seem convinced and opened his mouth to argue again, but Alex had reached his limit. He could feel his frustration bubbling up, and he was just about ready to scream when the shop door swung open with a loud creak.

In walked Cassian and Azriel, both of them cutting imposing figures as they strode into the shop. Cassian’s broad shoulders filled the doorway, and Azriel’s intense gaze swept over the scene, quickly taking in the situation.

The persistent client froze, his eyes widening as he took in the sight of the two warriors. Cassian’s expression was one of barely concealed amusement, while Azriel’s was much cooler, a silent but clear warning to the man that he was pushing his luck.

“Is there a problem here?” Azriel asked, his voice light but with an edge that sent a shiver down the man’s spine.

The client swallowed hard, his resolve crumbling under the weight of Azriel’s presence. “N-No, no problem at all,” he stammered, his previous determination evaporating. “I was just… uh… I’ll come back later.”

With that, the man all but bolted for the door, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste to leave the shop. The door slammed shut behind him, and the shop was suddenly filled with silence, save for the faint crackling of the forge in the background.

Alex let out a long, relieved sigh and leaned against the counter, wiping a hand across his brow. “Thank the Mother for that,” he muttered.

Cassian chuckled, walking over to ruffle Alex’s hair. “You handled that well, kid. He was lucky he didn’t push you any further—looked like you were about to go feral.”

Alex grinned up at him, his earlier frustration melting away. “I was close, really close. But thanks for the help! Can I interest either of you in a fine sword? Or perhaps a dagger? We’ve got some new arrivals that are really top-notch.”

Azriel, who had been leaning casually against the counter, let out a soft chuckle. “Not today, Alex. We’re not here to shop.”

Cassian, still grinning, shook his head. “Yeah, as tempting as it is, we’re actually here to see if Y/N’s back yet. We wanted to check in and see how things are going.”

Alex’s face brightened at the mention of your name. “Oh! No, she’s not back yet. She should be here by tomorrow, though. I haven’t heard anything from her, but she always keeps her word.”

Cassian nodded, his expression softening slightly. “Good to hear. We’ve been worried about her, especially after everything that happened before she left.”

Azriel’s eyes darkened slightly at the mention of recent events, but he remained quiet, his gaze drifting around the shop as if lost in thought.

Alex, ever the perceptive one, caught the shift in Azriel’s demeanor and quickly changed the subject. “But hey, if you want, I can show you some of the stuff she’s been working on! I know she’s got some special orders that are almost ready. You might even find something you like.”

Cassian laughed, clearly charmed by the boy’s enthusiasm. “Maybe another time, Alex. We’ll just wait for her to get back. But thanks for the offer.”

Alex nodded, a little disappointed that he couldn’t make a sale but still pleased that the two warriors had stopped by. “No problem! I’ll let her know you were here as soon as she gets back.”

“Thanks, Alex,” Cassian said, giving the boy another affectionate ruffle of his hair before turning to leave. Azriel followed, but not before giving Alex a small, almost imperceptible nod of appreciation.

As they walked out the door, Alex watched them go, a satisfied grin on his face. Stellan, who had been observing the entire exchange with his usual calm, gave a soft huff as if to say, “Finally, some peace and quiet.”

Alex glanced down at the wolf, chuckling softly. “Yeah, I know, boy. It’s never boring around here, is it?”

Stellan’s only response was to close his eyes and settle back down, clearly content now that the shop had returned to its usual, slightly chaotic but always interesting, routine.

As Cassian and Azriel stepped out of your shop and into the bustling streets of Velaris, the evening air was cool and refreshing, carrying with it the scents of the city—freshly baked bread, the distant aroma of spiced meats, and the crisp tang of the Sidra River. The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm, golden hue over the cobblestone streets and the elegantly curved buildings.

Cassian glanced over at Azriel, a sly grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You know, you didn’t have to scare the poor guy so much back there. He practically ran out of the shop.”

Azriel shrugged, his expression unreadable as usual, though there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “He was being persistent. Alexander was close to losing his patience.”

Cassian laughed, the sound rich and full of life. “True, true. That kid’s got more fire in him than most people twice his age. But I have to admit, it was fun watching you in action. You’ve always had a knack for that brooding intimidation.”

Azriel rolled his eyes, though the corners of his lips twitched slightly. “It wasn’t intentional. I just wanted to make sure the shop was running smoothly while Y/N is away.”

Cassian’s grin widened, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Speaking of Y/N… you’ve been pretty protective of her lately, haven’t you?”

Azriel’s step faltered for just a moment, but he quickly recovered, keeping his gaze focused ahead. “She’s been through a lot. We all have. I’m just making sure she’s safe.”

Cassian chuckled, clearly enjoying this line of questioning. “Come on, Az. We’ve all noticed how you’ve been watching out for her. And don’t think Rhys didn’t told me the way you reacted when she mentioned going to the Winter Court alone.”

Azriel’s expression remained impassive, though his eyes darkened slightly. “It’s my job to protect the people in this court, Cassian. You know that.”

“Sure, sure,” Cassian replied, waving a hand dismissively. “But this feels a little more personal, don’t you think? You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”

Azriel remained silent, his gaze focused straight ahead as they continued walking. The streets of Velaris were alive with activity—couples strolling hand in hand, children playing, vendors calling out their wares—but the conversation between the two warriors seemed to create a bubble of quiet tension around them. Cassian, always one to lighten the mood, decided to press a little further.

“You know, Az,” Cassian started, a mischievous grin spreading across his face, “it’s not like that little kiss she gave me means you’re out of the running.”

Azriel shot him a sharp look, his eyes narrowing. “That wasn’t a kiss, Cassian. She was removing a curse. You know that.”

Cassian laughed, the sound rich and full of amusement. “Hey, I’m just saying—if you’re worried about competition, don’t be. That ‘kiss’ doesn’t mean you’ve lost your chance.”

Azriel shook his head, resuming his walk. "It's not about that. Y/N deserves someone... better.” 

Cassian rolled his eyes dramatically, catching up to Azriel with a few quick strides. "Oh, here we go. The 'I'm not good enough' spiel. Az, you’re one of the most honorable males I know. You're brave, loyal, and let's not forget, you have that brooding mysterious thing going on that females seem to love."

Azriel shot him a skeptical look. "Being 'brooding and mysterious' isn't exactly a selling point."

"Maybe not for you," Cassian quipped, "but trust me, it's working. Besides, Y/N isn't the type to be swayed by titles or power. She values character, integrity, and someone who sees her for who she truly is."

Azriel sighed, his gaze distant. "Even so, with everything in my past, the things I've done... I don't want to burden her with that."

Cassian placed a firm hand on Azriel's shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. "Listen to me. We all have our demons, our shadows. Y/N included. But that doesn't mean we don't deserve happiness. You can't keep punishing yourself forever.”

"She is… different. She’s strong, independent. She’s been through so much, yet she doesn’t let it define her. I admire that.”

Cassian nodded, his expression softening slightly. “She is all of those things. And she’s got a good heart. But, Az, you know it’s okay to feel something more. You don’t have to keep everything locked away.”

Azriel’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, it seemed as if he might brush off the conversation entirely. But then he sighed, a sound that was barely audible but heavy with unspoken thoughts. “It’s not that simple, Cass. She’s… well, she’s remarkable. But she’s also tied to things I don’t fully understand. And after everything… I’m not sure it’s right to complicate things further.”

Cassian looked at him, his expression serious for once. “You’re overthinking it, as usual. Sometimes, it’s okay to just… let things happen. If there’s something there, you’ll figure it out. And if there’s not, well, at least you won’t have any regrets.”

Azriel didn’t respond immediately, but Cassian could see the conflict in his eyes. Finally, Azriel murmured, “I don’t want to be a distraction for her. She’s got enough to deal with, especially after what happened.”

Cassian grinned, though there was a note of understanding in his voice. “You’re not a distraction, Az. If anything, you’re probably one of the few people who can help her with whatever she’s dealing with. And, just so you know, she’s not out of your league, no matter what you think.”

Azriel remained silent, the internal battle evident in his eyes. The bustling sounds of Velaris seemed to fade as the two friends stood in the midst of the crowd, locked in a moment of understanding.

After a beat, Cassian grinned, attempting to lighten the mood. "And besides, if you don't make a move, I might just have to swoop in. You know, for the sake of not letting such a wonderful female go unappreciated."

Azriel snorted, a rare genuine laugh escaping his lips. "I'd like to see you try."

Cassian winked, clapping Azriel on the back. "That's the spirit! Now, how about we head to Rita's and grab a drink? Maybe by the time Y/N returns, you'll have mustered up the courage to tell her how you feel."

Azriel smirked, his shadows swirling playfully around him. "Only if you're buying."

"Deal," Cassian replied, leading the way with a swagger in his step. "But remember, the next round's on you, especially if it gives you the liquid courage you clearly need."

As they made their way towards the river, laughter and camaraderie enveloped them. Yet, beneath the teasing and banter, the seeds of self-reflection had been sown in Azriel's heart, leaving him to ponder the possibilities that awaited with your impending return. 

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[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the treacherous tyrant

the wistful wyvern, chapter three

a/n: I'm just gonna take this moment as an excuse to say that if you haven't yet checked out the info or maps about this world i've created, then i highly recommend you do, it'll make it much more fun, for example when we hop around from place to place in this one? you can spot on the map where we are.

summary: halting a moment, he turned to tug your horse’s reins out of your grasp and let her stand on her own, “look, just follow my lead,” before he turned with the expectancy of you shadowing him, “I have a plan.” 

warnings: knight!bucky barnes x knight!reader, fantasy AU (monsters, but not much magic), original fantasy world, ex-friends to lovers, coworkers to lovers, former fuckboy!bucky, tattooed!bucky, slow burn, one-sided pinning, forced proximity

word count: 1374

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“What is it?” you asked when Bucky suddenly leapt off his horse and kneeled down to investigate a spot on the dusty path that split the treacherous terrain. 

“…boot marks…” he mumbled, “fairly recent too…” 

It had been a week or so that you’d been stuck trying to navigate through the jagged landscape of The Asadånie Mountains. From climbing rocky hillsides to the crumbly trail you now followed, it had been hard to know if you were making any headway at all or simply walking in circles. 

Straightening back up to his full height, you slid off your horse as well just as a low rustling noise, from further up where the path curved, found both your alert ears. 

Swiftly, you rushed in behind the tall shrubs that grounded the thin pine trees that shot up towards the blue skies above the mountains. 

The bigger of the peaks before you appeared to open up into a dark cave. In the mouth of it, posted just outside, stood three figures that sent a chill down your spine. 

Silently nudging the knight hiding beside you, his eyes too grew wide with recognition of the uniforms they wore. 

“What are Oblén soldiers doing up here in the mountains?” he whispered, sharing a glance with you before you turned your gaze back to the guards. 

A fourth figure then appeared, marching out of the cavern and prompting the other warriors to go rigid at his presence. 

“Commander Abbot,” one of the soldiers addressed the man clad in gilded armour, “did it go as planned?”

“Well, I still have my head, you idiot,” he rolled his eyes, “so yes, it went as well as it could.” 

“So, The Treacherous Tyrant is agreeable to the king’s orders, then?” one of the others asked as their commander began to walk away from the grotto, the guard’s feet slightly shuffling to keep up, “will he strike again before next full moon?” 

“As long as we keep his dearest safe, then he will continue to do as the king commands.” 

You both stood frozen, hidden behind the flora as the soldiers from the southern kingdom passed, scarlessly even breathing at all before they were long gone. 

“The dragon’s in cahoots with them?” you uttered as you guided your horse back up onto the narrow path, “how is that even possible?”

With his gaze low to the ground, Bucky then mumbled, “The Treacherous Tyrant… I’ve heard that before… what was it…” he shut his eyes a moment, “Farrowghol,” his vision blinked open once more as he remembered, “Farrowghol, The Treacherous Tyrant.”

“Holy fuck…” you shuttered, unable to stop the terror that began to rain down upon you as you stared over at Bucky and saw the wheels in his brain still turning. 

“They mentioned something about keeping something dear to him safe?” his features crinkled up in thought before unfurling with clarity, “oh, what if–…” and before he could finish his own sentence, share his brilliant idea with you, his feet began to move. 

“What are you doing?” 

“I have a feeling,” he began to walk towards the cave entrance, “something’s off.”

“You have a feeling? You’re gonna go get flambeed based on a fucking feeling?”

Halting a moment, he turned to tug your horse’s reins out of your grasp and let her stand on her own, “look, just follow my lead,” before he turned with the expectancy of you shadowing him, “I have a plan.” 

“Fuck your plan!” you screeched, standing your ground, “I’m not going in there!”

But as you watched him get swallowed by the darkness of the cave, only a few seconds passed by before a sharp curse burst out of you and you reluctantly followed him inside. 

Catching up to him, the dark tunnel soon unfolded into a vast and echoing grotto. Stalagmites burst up from the rocky floor and surrounded various mountainous boulders that might have crashed from parts of the caved-in ceiling where light now streamed in through the cracks and lit up the dim interior. 

For a moment, you thought perhaps the beast had flown away right before you’d entered the cavern.

But that moment didn’t get to linger for long as one of the enormous silhouettes you’d assumed was just another boulder began to move. 

The deep growl that then rumbled throughout the lair caused the small rubble on the ground to vibrate around your boots. 

Its scales were such a murky brown that it nearly looked pitch black, and as it reflected in the rays of light gushing in from above, an opalescent sheen glistened on its hide at its movements as its head unfurled, towering above you and eclipsing the low light before its wide jaw unhinged and a smouldering glow began to appear in the back of its throat. 

Throwing an arm around your waist, Bucky yanked you with him as he ducked behind a nearby boulder just before the monster began to spew fire at you. 

As flames licked up the sides of the rock, the view of them cresting over the top caused you to curl further into Bucky’s side. 

But when the dragon paused a moment, reeling before another go, the man beside you unexpectedly yelled, “we’re here to help!”

Shooting a glare up at him, “what the fuck, man?” you cursed in a hushed tone, “what are you doing? Shaking its hand and offering it a fucking pint?”

The leviathan’s booming rumble then invaded the entire cavern, “Farrowghol doesn’t need the help of wheezily little insects,” his heavy stride shook the space as he circled you like a large cat ready to pounce on their prey. 

“King Ivan has something you love,” Bucky bellowed, “we can get it back for you!” 

Farrowghol then suddenly halted, the entire cavern growing dead quiet. 

“That’s why you’re doing their bidding, correct?” Bucky went on, “they took something from you?” he then shifted, slowly sliding his crossbow off his back, “you can trust us. See?” he tossed the weapon off to the side for the beast to spot, “you and I, we share the same enemy.”  

Squeezing your eyes tightly shut, you thought for sure the dragon would let you feel his wrath once more, but instead, his deep roar resounded once more. 

“Not something,” he corrected, “someone.”

“A person?” Bucky carefully stepped out, leaving your hidden frame still in his eye line as he faced the beast with his palms raised up high. 

“My kin,” the dragon bellowed, “that’s who he has imprisoned. Ready to crush each and every one of them if I don’t obey. They’re hidden deep within his walls, in a chamber made entirely of hellstone,” he spoke of the rare material, which was the only thing known to be able to withstand the obliterating breath of a dragon, “I could never reach them, even if I tried, and I have.” 

“We can get them back!” Bucky promised, “set you free from the king’s control!” 

You couldn’t help but tremble as the beast's words shook the lair once more, “I lost my mate aeons ago… Those eggs are all I have left,” he shared hesitantly, “if something happens to them,” he warned with a crackle that raised the temperature a significant amount, “I will burn down everything you hold sacred.” 

“Sounds fair enough,” your fellow warden nodded tensely, “and if we do this, you’ll hold out on their commands of attack?”

“You have one lunar cycle,” he slowly settled, “if my kin have not returned to my cave within that time, I will not hesitate to strike.”

When you finally exited the cave and the bright sunlight once more licked at your skin, Bucky’s tense shoulders dropped back down with a long exhale, whereas yours, on the other hand, did not. 

“Alright,” he muttered, passing you as he briskly walked up to where your horses were still waiting, “so we just break into the palace in Ingorn. The chamber, it’s probably like a vault or something? That can’t be too hard, right?” 

Trailing behind him, you breathed, “no, it is…” before halting your step completely as you sighed, “fuck…” staring daggers down at the ground as you then uttered, “I have to go speak to my father.”

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[ethereal-night-fairy]

Silver Tongues, like Bullets

Werewolf!141 x female reader

Trusting four men in the forest when you were lost was possibly the stupidest thing you could have ever done. Now you find yourself scrambling to escape their clutches.

Warnings: MDNI, Dark themes, implied kidnapping, manipulation, hunting, mild injuries, manhandling, non-sexual touching, non-con touching.

The lovely @gogh-with-the-flow came up with the name for this. (I love you xoxo 💋)

Silver Tongues like Bullets Masterlist

Words: 3.7k

-27/11/2023 present time

Your feet race through the jagged terrain trying to find any hint of a trail to lead you back into town. Though it was near impossible to see. Your only friend was the crescent moon creating a gentle stream of light to guide your steps as you hurried across, dodging trees and bushes. The air sliced against your skin like icicles but you know you couldn't stop. They might be hot on your trail. You could almost envision their hot breaths coming out in pants as their morphed forms chased after you. Large bodies on all fours tearing up the forest in pursuit of your scent. But they weren't behind you, they couldn't be you haven't heard them in a short while. It was a miracle you even managed to evade their claws this long. God knows how you managed to get this far.

Had someone warned you that you'd be chased by four beasts who you had sought help from at one point you'd think they've gone completely mad. Maybe you've gone completely mad. Maybe this was all a dream and your brain is just trying to wake you up. Your legs were numb from the cold but you continued running, you couldn't stop, not now. You prayed that you'd just wake up in your warm bed. To your cozy home and familiar town. You ran through a particularly thorny bush, creating small cuts all over your arms. But you still continued even though all you wanted to do was lay down and hide somewhere until morning. Until you could see clearly and find a way back. You crane your neck trying to make out sounds over your laboured breathing and pounding heart. The blood rushing into your ears was making it difficult to hear anything noteworthy. Maybe you had lost them or maybe they thought you were too much trouble and had gone back but you were thankful nonetheless.

The trees start to thin and your heart feels like it'll force its way out of your chest. Were you approaching a road? A trail? It didn't matter your force to your legs to run faster. When you finally break through the treeline and onto the dark road you look around frantically. Cars!? Were there any cars nearby? You try to listen to the best of your ability as you calm down your breathing. Hot breaths condensing into the cold night. Your legs felt like jelly and standing up straight was proving to be a problem. You crouched down slightly, giving yourself a moment when you finally hear the smooth rumble of an engine. The light blinded you for a second when you saw the vehicle turn from the bend. You cover your eyes but stand off to the side so you don't get hit, waving your other hand like a mad woman hoping to get noticed. The lights get dipped and you get a better look as the truck slows to a stop.

The familiar black truck has your mind reeling. Your blood runs cold much colder than the air that was cutting blood circulation in your toes and fingers. You recognise the truck of your kidnappers. Fate seemed to be enjoying your torment. She wouldn't be putting you in such a predicament if she didn't. The car lights shine on you comically as if you're a criminal that just escaped prison. Before anyone could hop out you turn to run into the forest. It didn't matter how much your limbs hurt, you were going to escape!

You only get two steps in before you're grabbed by the back of your shirt. But you hadn't heard the doors open. Were they out in the forest waiting for you to slip up? Another pair of hands restrains your arms behind your back. You scream and claw trying to weaken their hold. Fighting tooth and nail trying to escape but you just weren't strong enough to rival the two holding you. Your hands were numb, much like the rest of you. You couldn't really feel if your blows were creating any impact.

You only see who grabbed you when you were pushed cheek down on the hood of the car. Soap had your arms twisted behind your back sporting a very deep scratch to his left cheek and many more on his arms that you had left before escaping. Ghost held your neck fully covered in his usual getup. It was firm but alot gentler than Soap. His gloves felt warm against the back of your neck. But you didn't let it placate you. You let out a huff of curse words and try kicking your legs backwards as the truck doors slam shut.

“Aye will ye give it a rest!”, Soap hold you tighter making you wince from the pain. He was clearly angry at you but was holding back for your sake. Wouldn't want to hurt their mate too badly now. You already didn't like them.

“Hands off”, you hear the clear rumble of the Captain's rugged drawl. Suddenly all the warm from your body disappeared, the two men had stepped back giving room to their Captain. Gently a hand ran down your back and spine causing you to shiver. You whine and place your face into your hands knowing you weren't going to escape tonight. You didn't want to look at them and you didn't want them looking at you. The fear and shame of failing was eating away at your insides. Not to mention the punishment that was coming when they finally bring you back to the cabin.

“It's ok luv, we've got you now”, it's Gaz's sweet voice that breaks the tension in the air as Price continues to rub your back gently trying to ground you. You wanted to collapse in on yourself to get as far away as possible as you could from these men. Gaz being the most deceptive of the four. He lured you in with sweet words and promises only to lock you up. You had trusted him when he said he'll get you home. That promise never came to be. How many days has it been now? Maybe weeks have gone by. You couldn't tell anymore the days have started bleeding in together. You wondered if anyone was looking for you.

“Let's get you back now shall we? We can figure out an appropriate punishment when you're safe and sound”, Price's voice vibrated through the silent forest where even the owls gave him authority over the night. You don't know why he was posing it as a question, it wasn't like they were going to listen to you.

Your tears obscure your view as you're led to the back seats with Gaz and Soap. Soap stays silent tightly holding one arm while Gaz coos and shushes you. He gently wipes away your tears holding you close, warming your shivering body from being ill dressed in the elements. The truck starts, the sound of the engine being the final nail in the coffin on your attempted escape.

- 23/11/2023

The leaves under your feet give a loud *crunch* as you stomp your feet through the familiar hiking trail. You come to a halt when the road breaks up into four different directions. You pick a path and start walking without much of a care. Your latest arguments with your parents had you fleeing to the comfort of the forest. You didn't understand why they wouldn't let you leave, you wanted more from life, more to experience, just more than this tiny town could offer you. You had finally gotten your dream job in the city after working tirelessly to improve your photography portfolio. You did all you could do to make sure you were always the best behaved child. You made it a point to do well in your studies and do your best to make your parents proud. You made sure to get a job a soon as it was legally allowed. You supported yourself throughout college even going as far as giving your parents money when you could spare it. Yet they still denied you their love and support when it came to things you wanted.

Your parents wanted you to stay close for their own convenience. They wanted you to stay to help them rather than pursue your dreams. They've been guilt tripping you since you graduated from college to not to leave town. That they needed your help with your younger siblings. That it was unfair and selfish of you after all they did to raise you into adulthood. That you would never make it in the city. That you wouldn't amount to anything without their help.

Leaves and twigs snap under your feet as you trudge through the rough terrain of the forest. Your anger and frustration carry you onwards despite your fatigue. Your camera in hand as you stop from time to time to take scenic photographs.

Time passes and the sun begins to dip in the sky, you suddenly come to a halt realizing that path you thought you were on now had turned into mud and grass. You quickly glance around trying to figure out what part of the forest you found yourself in. There was no trail in sight. Maybe you had steered off course when you were following that white rabbit. How long had you been walking for? You crane your neck to listen to try to hear some sounds of civilisation, cars, voices, dogs, anything to give you an indication that you haven't gone too far. But you were greeted with the wind rustling through the trees and some small birds chirping. You were too far in. The heavy feeling of dread settled in the pit of your stomach but you refused to let it consume you.

You glance at the sky. It was late afternoon, you knew the sun would be setting in a couple of hours. You wrack your head on what to do.

“Think! Think! What did I learn in scouts? Resources! What resources do i have?”

You pat your pockets to find anything useful. You grab your phone to turn it on again. You didn't have anything else on you except a warm jacket, your wallet and your camera. Regret was simmering in the back of your mind as to why you stormed out like you did. Your breathing becomes labored as you try to prevent a panic attack. The screen loads up to show you you've missed several calls from your parents and a few from your siblings. Your bars are low so try to get to some higher ground to get a signal to call them back. You climb a tree leaving your camera on the ground nearby to get better reception but you could only manage one bar. You try calling a couple times before the call finally connects.

“Mom? Mom!, I'm in the forest. I think I'm lost. Mom?”, you try to speak but your mother's voice comes back broken and in a static state. She couldn't hear you. You try your best to communicate with the signal you had hoping she could piece together enough broken words to send help. You strain your arm up trying to get a better signal when your foot slips on a branch and you come tumbling down. The call cuts and you groan out in pain.

Your hands scrabble for your phone looking to see if it was damaged. The phone to your utter disbelief had landed on the boulder nearby and had shattered the screen to the point of it being unusable. You curse and shout in anger and frustration at your horrible luck.

-

You had stayed put after letting out your anger. Hoping that maybe your mom had understood enough to send help. The sun was getting low in the sky, you didn't have anything on you to build a fire or some sort of shelter so your best option was to conserve energy and wait to be rescued or try finding a trail in the morning. Not to mention the nasty bruises you were nursing now. You had tried looking around the vicinity to try to find a trail to follow after your phone broke but it just felt like you were going deeper as the fog got thicker the more you walked. So in the end you had to turn back. Not that it made much of a difference the fog was settling where you sat on a pile of leaves to protect yourself from the cold ground. It was doing very little from starving the cold from your ass though. The warm jacket you wore wasn't feeling so warm anymore as the heat of early autumn was disappearing with the setting sun.

You prayed someone would find you soon or pray that you lived to get back home on your own tomorrow. But with the way the icy wind was chilling you to your bones, you growing weary. Sitting in one place wasn't keeping you warm, you needed to keep moving to create some friction and get blood flowing again. So that's what you did. For the next 20 to 30 mins you jogged on the spot and did some jumping jacks to starve of the cold. And it worked until you tired yourself out and sat down again.

You kept your ears open to in hopeful delusion that you'd hear footsteps or maybe a group of campers in the distance that could help you. You waited and waited craning your neck when you heard the slightest snap of a twig or a whistle that sounded human. But maybe you were going crazy. Or maybe you were actually right and someone else was in the forest. You keep hearing distant whistling but it stops just as quickly as it starts, making you second guess yourself....

You hear the whistle again! And again this time closer! You get up slowly, your legs numb from sitting. You steady your feet the best you can gathering your belongings as you follow the sound of the gentle tune. The sun was setting and you needed to hurry before it got dark.

You weren't paying attention to your surroundings even though you know you should. This was how you got lost in the first place. But in your cold and desperate mind you needed to find the source of the whistling before the night forest claimed you as its own. You stumble and trip as you make your way to the gentle humming that was resonating through the trees now. The fog got thicker and got harder to see but you continued on especially with the blanket of darkness looming closer. The trees seemed to be growing hands the longer you stayed in one spot so you had no choice but to keep moving. The whistling had stopped suddenly, making you panic as you stood still. Thinking your mind was playing tricks on you but then the humming started and you continued to follow the comforting sound. You couldn't find a direction to follow without it. It was difficult to see more than a couple feet from where you were standing with the fog so thick. You had tripped and fallen many times scraping and bruising yourself further. You probably looked a sight. At least your camera was ok. It was probably running low on charge though.

In the distance you saw the soft glow of fire? Or some sort of lamp, you didn't know and you didn't care. You continue to approach it. Light meant civilisation right? Someone lived here, you could ask them for help. With the distance you had trekked today you hadn't realised how sore you were especially now that the adrenaline had worn off and your tender muscles were screaming from the falls you endured. The ground underneath you evened out a little as you got closer and it became much easier to walk.

Finally you reached the clearing. And look up towards the large cabin in front of you. The fog surrounded it ominously but you didn't seem to care. Your mind wasn't functioning properly due to the cold. You beeline for the open fire once you see it. You glance around quickly to see if anyone was around but there wasn't. But meat was roasting on the fire as you fell to your knees trying to get blood flowing to your fingertips. You glance at the cabin when you warmed up enough, there was a single oil lantern on the entrance but the cabin itself was dark. As if no one was inside. But there was a truck parked up on the side. You've never seen this cabin before, was it always here? Or perhaps you've never come close to this section of the forest to really notice. The best option was to wait for whoever was cooking this meat you think to yourself. Guessing from the size of the freshly cut meat it might be for a small group. You hoped as much anyway; a group of friends enjoying a trip to a cabin. You sat near the fire staying warm salivating from the smell, you hadn't eaten anything since early morning today. It was beginning to take a toll on you.

The soft whistling started again from the edge of the forest where the trees dwarfed the cabin. You hastily get up to get away from the fire not wanting to come across as rude to your potential saviors. You stand there awkwardly waiting for someone to emerge from the tree line, rubbing your hands together while blowing on them.

The heat in your lungs condenses into steam as you let out huffs of air. A figure emerges from the fog, someone tall wearing a red flannel shirt carrying wood and an ax. It's only when he gets closer do you notice does he sniff the air and stop dead in his tracks to look up. His coal eyes pierce you with great intensity. You stare back not really comprehending the situation. You wanted to say something, to let him know you weren't a threat, just someone who was lost and needed a little help.

But your throat seized up and the chilly air freezing up in your lungs preventing you from speaking. The temperature took a dip despite you being near the fire. He took long measured steps towards you as you stood frozen and unable to look away or speak.

Your mouth hung open trying to get words out but it felt like your muscles had stopped working. His eyes glowed orange from the fire as he got closer, his muscular body standing taller as he approached shoulders drawn back in a defensive stance. His dark skin looked radiant under the glow of the embers, his sweat shining on his exposed chest where two buttons were undone. You look down at your feet when your eyes locked with him for the briefest second. You don't think he appreciated you ogling his toned body.

He crouches down, adding a few logs to the dwindling flames and tossed the rest and the ax to the side like it weighed nothing. He got up again and fixed you with a stare, posture still defensive. Waiting for you to say something.

“I'm lost”, the words finally left your mouth in a hurry not wanting to anger this man when you were hoping to receive his help. “I-I didn't m-mean to intrude, I-I just heard some whistling. And I t-thought maybe you c-could help me find my way back”, you stuttered a response even through your nerves as the man continued to stare for a bit, his eyes dissolving of hostility.

“What town are you from?”, he asks gently while rotating the meat.

“Milster”, you say softly hoping he'd know the way back.

“Night has fallen and the forest is covered in a thick fog. We won't be able to show you the road back until morning”, he explains while proding the meat.

“We?”

As if on cue you see two more well built men appear from the three lines just like the man in front had a few minutes ago. They were all 6 feet or taller by reference to your own height. The blond one, a head taller than his friend.

It felt kinda intimidating that all of them were so fit. One had a knit mask over his face while the other was rocking a very questionable mohawk. Another man appears behind them with a very old fashioned beard but it suited him. He had a rugged charm about him and a friendly face to compliment it. They were all conversing while bringing in their hunt, not particularly paying attention to what was in front of them. The man roasting the meat goes over to where they were.

They came to a halt a few meters away from you. They all turn their head to bore their eyes into yours. You swear they glowed an amber hue for a second. You awkwardly shift your feet from side to side not knowing what to do. After they shared a couple hushed words they all came over towards the fire. The one with the mohawk came towards you while the others stayed on the other side of the burning wood, analyzing you but not in a hostile way. Almost as if they were viewing a small animal in the wild. Except for the mohawk, his eyes told another story.

He circled you like he was sizing up prey. A cold shiver made its way down your spine despite the heat from the rekindled fire. Your nerve endings were screaming at you to run or hide, muscles twitching in your legs trying to get you to move. He finally came in front of you again making direct eye contact. His ocean eyes transfixing you in your place. His boyish smirk exposed his overly sharp canines. It unnerves you completely.

You shouldn't be here! You shouldn't have asked for help! But before you can backtrack and leave the area his deep Scottish accent rings out.

“Aw ah poor little bunny, lost are ye? Dinnae worry we'll help ye find yer way home."

Copyright © by ethereal-night-fairy. 2023. All Rights Reserved. Writing not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or use with AI technologies.

[darling-sometimes-i-wonder]

Arena- Finnick Odair

Can you please write something about finnick and reader being very touchy and flirty in the arena?

A/N: i'm a little rusty but i like how this turned out <3 part 2 is underway. requests open! word count: 3.6k

"Ladies and gentlemen, let the 75th hunger games begin!"

It was bright. Very bright. Hard to see 10 feet in front of you type of bright, particularly with the sunlight reflecting off of the water that surrounded you. You barely registered the monotonous countdown as you scrambled internally to make a plan. You could hear the waves lapping at the metal plate you stood on, and distantly you wondered if it was salt water or fresh water- probably salt. Fresh water would be too easy. Your home in District 6 had not prepared you for this type of terrain, but you did have some tricks up your sleeve.

The canon sounded off and you made a smooth dive headfirst into the clear water, all of those trips to district four paying off.

Swimming to your right you made it to one of the rocky spokes that led to the cornucopia, hoisting yourself up fluidly and taking off towards the big metal half-cave where all the supplies and weapons laid.

It didn't take long for you to reach the jagged island, where you could see Katniss and Finnick in the middle of an exchange from a distance- he was holding his hand up towards her. A gold bangle was shining on his wrist.

"Good thing we're allies," You heard him say as you quickly jogged over, looking over your shoulder to see if you were being pursued. You didn't see anybody behind you, but you could see the man from district 5 coming around the corner with his weapon poised and ready. You picked up your pace, yelling warning to Finnick, reaching them just as he instructed for Katniss to duck before throwing his trident and hitting his target.

"Finnick," You called in relief and his eyes flicked from the body to you.

"Y/N!" he said running towards you, forgetting about the now bloody trident that was lodged into district 5’s chest. He pulled you into his grasp and just held you there for a few seconds, breathing deeply into your damp hair. It was soaking just a few moments ago but the humidity and sun had already dried it partially.

He pulled away too soon, taking your hand and leading you back to where Katniss was standing, his trident in her hand. She must have de-lodged it during your reunion with Finnick.  

She absentmindedly tossed it to him, looking around in all directions frantically.

"I'll go get Peeta," Finnick assured, and spun back around to face you. He kissed you once, twice on the lips softly, cradling your face. "I'll be right back."

He dove off the side of the island, and within a few minutes you could see him towing Peeta towards you. You could hear Katniss let go a breath of relief.

You ran to meet them, squatting down near the edge and helping Finnick lift Peeta out of the water. Peeta clambered up clumsily, seemingly happy to be back on land.

In the distance, on the closest spoke to you, stood Mags- slowly but surely shuffling forward.

“I’ll go get her,” Finnick said and took off before you could offer to go get her instead.

It didn’t take him long to retrieve her, gently slinging her onto his back and marching on the slippery rocks steadily. He made it back and set her down on her feet. You grabbed her hand and squeezed, and she smiled at you sweetly.

"Let us regroup, shall we?" You asked.

*

You all decided it was probably better to get off the island and retreat into the woods where it wasn't so open.

Walking up to you Finnick wrapped his hand around your neck gently, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips. Your cheeks burned as you kissed him back- you weren't used to such public displays of affection from him, only ever in the privacy of your own homes.

You could feel Katniss and Peeta's eyes on you. It must have been a surprise for them, too.

You could only imagine how the Capitol was reacting. Your relationship, while speculated broadly, was never 100% confirmed. Until now.

Each year you only saw Finnick a handful of times: once for couple weeks at the annual games, and a few times on borderline secret trips down to four. Being from district 6, the district of transportation, had its advantages. Although it was obvious you both had feelings, there was never enough time to form a real relationship- especially since you weren't necessarily supposed to stray from your own district.

You thought about this as the group of you retreated into the tree line, trekking forward without much trouble; everyone had grabbed their assorted weapons and went on their way.

As soon as you passed the first couple trees the first thing you noticed was how unbearable the heat was; your jumpsuit stuck to your body with salt water and sweat, clinging to your form.

Peeta took it upon himself to lead, using a long knife to cut through the jungles vines and various, thickly packed vegetation. You let yourself fall into step with Finnick, who immediately took your hand and brought it up to his mouth. He kissed the back of your hand three times before interlocking your fingers and gently guiding you along, Mags bringing up the rear with her walking stick.

"I'm glad I found you alive," he whispered, keeping his eyes trained forward. "Don't actually know what I'd do without you."

You hummed, looking around at the trees nonchalantly.

"You have my heart Odair."

*

Nothing eventful happened on the first day, besides Peeta having to be resuscitated.

One minute he was making good progress, and then within seconds there was a loud zap that sent him flying backwards into Finnick, knocking him over and taking you with them.

Your heart dropped as you watched the scene unfold in front of you; Peeta was laying on the ground, not moving.

"He's not breathing," Katniss cried. Finnick rushed over, shoving Katniss out of the way so he could start mouth to mouth on Peeta.

She raised her bow towards Finnick and you tackled her before she could do any damage.

She hissed as she came in contact with the ground and hopped up just as quickly, glaring at you before taking notice of Finnick pumping his hands hard against Peeta's chest. She scrambled over to them and you followed in suit, closing your eyes and praying Peeta would wake up- without him, there was no solid allegiance with Katniss, and the whole plan went underwater.

"Come on, come on," Finnick grunted, leaning down to blow more air into his lungs.

As soon as Peeta's eyes fluttered open Finnick and you both exhaled a huge sigh of relief in unison, falling back and letting Katniss shoot forward to embrace him, tears leaking out of her eyes.

Finnick sighed and pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you and letting them have their privacy.

"I love you," he murmured which left you surprised. He had never said that before, but you could understand why his confession came now rather than later. Who knew how much time you had left together?

Katniss took the lead after that, claiming she could hear the force field with her bionic ear. She led you along the edge of the force field until you found a semi clear spot that would work for camp for the night.

Mags plopped down on a fallen tree and immediately began weaving something, her fragile hands and nimble fingers working at a quick pace. Finnick took a seat next to her, pulling you into his lap.

Now it was time to figure out the water situation. You were all clearly struggling after walking all that way, panting heavily with dry mouths.

In an effort to find drinkable water Katniss scaled a tree, scouting to see if she could see any type of water source from up high.

You held your breath as you watched her disappear among the tree branches, praying she'd find something, anything. She reappeared not even 5 minutes later, grimacing.

"Nothing," she sighed, climbing back down skillfully.

A silence fell over the group as you all processed that information, each with different levels of anxiety. In your first games you had nearly dehydrated to death, the lack of water leading you the point of hallucinations and delirium, so the lack of supply left you grappling with traumatic memories and an intense pit in your stomach.

You opened your mouth to say something when the branches above you rustled, drawing everyone's attention upwards.

A familiar silver sphere made its way down from the trees, beeping along the way. It landed on the ground in front of you. Nobody moved.

Hesitantly Katniss reached forward, unscrewing the top, and pulled out a thin metal tube. It looked familiar, but you couldn't put your finger on it.

Nobody said anything, staring at the small silver tool. Finnick didn't say anything, not knowing what it was either. He had his arms wrapped around your waist still, and his strong hands squeezed your sides reassuringly.

"A spile," Katniss finally said. You all looked at her. "Like the thing they use to get sap out of a tree. To make maple syrup."

Peeta still looked confused but you were nodding slowly, recalling a previous games where a spile had also been gifted.

"I think I get it," You said. "It'll get us water, yeah?"

At the sound of the word water everyone jumped into action, Katniss immediately finding a thick tree to puncture. Finnick stood up but didn't let his hands go from around your waist as Peeta ran to catch up with Katniss. Finnick double checked on Mags, who was still weaving, before leading you to follow them.

They were taking turns drilling the spile into the tree, carefully so it wouldn't break.

Once it was sufficiently in you all stared at it; nothing happened.

Your mouth was drier than it had been in years. Your mentor had warned against this last time, advising you that the first thing you should do is find a fresh water source.

You thought back to Lavan, your mentor, who was the only competent one on your team. The other two were downing morphine like it was water constantly, offering no help or advise before sending you into the arena. But could you really blame them?

You were brought out of your thoughts at everyone gasping; water had begun to trickle down from the spout, everyone rushing towards it at once.

"Let katniss go first, she's with child," You scolded and Peeta ushered her towards the spout. You all took turns drinking, and then washing the grimy sweat off your faces. Finnick brought some to Mags in a basket she had easily constructed.

You couldn't lie, watching Finnick drink from the spilling water was a godly sight to behold. He just looked so sexy, and he wasn't even trying.

You waited until he was done to grab him by the front of his jumpsuit, kissing him roughly. He didn't object, smiling through the kiss.

It truly was now or never. Before, there was always the worry of how the Capitol citizens would react to their favorite victors being taken off the market, and how Snow would retaliate. But to be honest, you didn't care too much about what the Capitol or its viewers, and especially not Snow, thought right now.

You let him wrap his arms around you like he used to, pulling you closer and cupping your face. Mindlessly you reached up and ran your fingers through his messy hair.

He sighed and pulled away, pressing the side of his face to yours, his lips angling downwards to kiss you gently on the cheek. You smiled in the dim sunlight.

Given the circumstances, it was fairly easy to somewhat relax next to Finnick as you all finished setting up camp. Just his presence was comforting, and his touch made you visibly less tense.

"I'll take first watch," Katniss insisted, and you and Finnick shared a look. Peeta was most hesitant, however you and Finnick went down without a fight. At some point Katniss must've convinced Peeta he needed to rest because soon after you laid down you could hear him shuffling around not far from you. Mags was already sleeping, snoring softly. Finnick laid down and pulled with him, letting your head rest on his broad chest.

Your blinks started becoming slower and slower and you pulled him closer, his heartbeat lulling you to sleep.

*

"The fog," Katniss's screeches jarred you from your sleep, Finnick shooting into a sitting position beside you. "It's poisonous!"

Before you could process entirely what was happening you were on your feet, Finnick had Mags on his back, and his hand in yours, dragging you along until your feet started working themselves. You stumbled along in a panic, glancing over your shoulder only once to see a thick greenish fog licking at your heels. It crept up behind you and made you scream in agony as it burned your back.

"Y/N keep moving," Finnick ordered. You could tell he was trying to remain calm but you could hear the panic in his voice.

You took a deep breath and darted forward through the pain, using all your strength to keep pushing. You noticed the muscles in your back started to spasm, making your arms start to twitch at your sides. You led the way the best you could, Katniss and Finnick close behind and Peeta bringing up the rear.

You glanced behind you. Peeta was struggling, hard- you abandoned your spot at the front and did your best to help Katniss drag him along but it was getting harder and harder, especially now with your back spasming and your thighs wobbling as the fog clearly targeted your nervous system.

Before you knew it you were almost as bad as Peeta, dragging yourself along and holding tightly onto Katniss.

"Finnick I can't," Katniss breathed heavily, and she sounded near tears. "I can't support both of them."

By now your eyelids had gone slack, leaving you with half vision. You hear Finnick call Mags name once, then twice more desperately. A canon went off and you stopped. Surely that wasn't what you thought it was.

Before you could ponder for long you were in motion again, Finnick urging you forward.

"Come on Y/N, we have to get through this," he said desperately, pleading with you.

The sound of his voice pulled you through and you focused only on your legs, propelling yourself forward.

You were the fastest, normally, but being half awake and spasming combined was slowing you down tremendously. You were leading the pack once again but with the fog closing in on you, you feared this might be the end.

With your half open eyes you didn't see the tree root in front of you, and as you staggered forward it immediately took you down, causing a chain reaction.

You all went flying, tumbling down a steep hill and landing face first in the dirt. You had been going the fastest which meant you had fallen the fastest, hitting the ground and rolling into shallow water. As soon as your skin met the water you screamed, a burning sensation covering everywhere the fog had touched and making the burns that much more unbearable. It felt like you were being burned alive.

Slowly you started to notice a cloudy substance leak from your wounds, dispersing in the water around you. Hesitantly you reached up and rubbed the salty water against your arm, biting back another scream, but it seemed to be working.

"The water helps," you breathed but you weren't sure anyone could hear you. Behind Katniss the poisonous fog seemed to hit a wall, gathering up before dissipating completely, vanishing all together.

Katniss seemed to be the only one who heard you, dragging herself across the muddy ground before submerging herself in water. She let out a deep groan as the water hit her burned skin but she was a soldier; she took it like a champ, dunking her face first and letting out a garbled scream underwater.

You let her and yourself heal in silence before going your separate ways; she helped Peeta while you dragged Finnick, who was in the worst shape of all of you.

Shakily you made your way over to him where he was groaning in pain on the ground, just laying on his back. You slipped your hands under his arms and tried to get him to stand; when that failed you resorted to dragging him as best you could, leading him over to the salty water and plopping down.

You gently pulled Finnick into the water with you, softly tugging him into your lap as he groaned loudly, making you flinch.

You rubbed the water over his burns, watching the poison slowly discharge from his skin. He made sounds of pain as you rubbed him down as gently as you could while still being effective. Eventually he was fully submerged and wiped down; his breathing was shallow pants and his eyes were screwed shut as he slowly recovered. You smoothed his wet hair back from his forehead.

"Did I die yet?" he mumbled, eyes closed, and you let out a shaky laugh.

"No, not yet. And you better not.”

His arms were still twitching slightly while all of your nerves seemed to have calmed down; just sitting soaking in the water was helping significantly.

“I thought we were gonna die,” he exhaled.

“Me too,” You admitted, and ran a hand through your tangled wet hair. “I thought I was gonna lose you.”

He smiled, eyes still closed. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

"We need more fresh water," Katniss said from a few paces over. You stood, offering your hand to Finnick as Katniss helped Peeta up.

"I'll get it," Peeta volunteered, shaking his head when Katniss gave him a protesting look. "I'm fine. It'll be good to stretch anyway."

He took the spile from Katniss and went off, slightly wobbly but determined. You watched him go, following him with your eyes. You were so focused that you hadn't noticed the deadly silence, or Finnick posing in a defensive stance in front of you.

"Peeta," Katniss called calmly. "Can you come here? Slowly."

Your head turned forward where Finnick was standing in front of you, trident raised threateningly; hundreds of monkeys stood in the trees, beady eyes glaring down at all of you. You faltered; how were there this many? Where did they all come from?

As soon as Peeta took a step forward all hell broke loose- the monkeys charged forward with no warning or tell tale signs. Everyone readied their weapons. Katniss handed you a big machete before starting to shoot off her arrows. Finnick was spearing things left to right, and you hopped around him to help fight them off. You knew what the mission was: protect Peeta and Katniss. Get them out of the arena in one piece.

The fight felt never ending and you were honestly running out of steam. You lost focus for one second and before you could do anything one of the monkeys got past you and lunged directly at Peeta. Right before he could be slaughtered someone jumped out in front of him, taking the hard bite to the throat. You squinted your eyes and tried to figure out who it was, and a sinking feeling in your stomach began to form as you recognized his tired, tired face. He was your district partner, just another soul that got swept up in addiction in an attempt to drive the games out of their head. Tears sprang in your eyes as you watched Loto struggle to breathe in Peeta's arms- you hadn't noticed the monkeys begin to retreat, with no prompting or cause seemingly whatsoever. Finnick stood guard as they backed up, not trusting the horror to truly be over.

Katniss and Peeta gently pulled Loto into the water and you ran towards them, holding back a choked sob as you reached their side.

You stroked Loto's head softly as Peeta started talking; he was good, distracting him with the colors in the sky and telling him about all the paintings he made back at home and how he  mixed colors to get the perfect shade. It truly did seem to relax Loto.

"It was an honor knowing you," You whispered to him, and he smiled as much as he could back up to you. You kissed his forehead and backed away, unable to watch the life drain from his eyes. You walked back to Finnick, who was watching you with a stricken expression. You flinched as a canon sounded. You didn't bother to play independent or engage in flirty back and forth with him, instead going straight into his arms.

Eventually Katniss and Peeta rejoined you, a hovercraft appearing in the distance to come retrieve the body.

Katniss took one look at the both of you; you, having lost Loto, and Finnick, having lost Mags. She offered to stay up and take watch again, this time with Peeta, and nobody disagreed. Without saying anything Finnick pulled you close to him and laid you both down on the sandy ground, nuzzling his face into your neck. You could feel small hot tears smudging in your skin and it made your heart break- you knew how close Mags and Finnick were. Closer than you and Loto, so you could only imagine what he was feeling.

You flipped around so you were face to face, bringing your hand up to gently trace over his handsome features .

"I'm sorry," you whispered and he closed his teary eyes.

"I'm sorry too."

[imthebadguyyy]

Every Thing Has Changed

pairing : carlos sainz x reader

fandom : f1

synopsis : healing from a relationship in which you never felt loved is made easier when your a certain ferrari drive feels like home and changes your perception on love.

warnings : just some making out, mentions of a past abusive relationship, crying, angst, nightmare

a/n : just a short blurb inspired by photograph by Ed Sheeran and everything has changed by Taylor Swift💕

relationships, once resembling the sweet symphony of love can turn to play a dissonant melody, much like a wilting rose, its vibrant petals fading to a melancholic shade of gray. the once-gentle winds of understanding transformed into bitter gales of miscommunication, tearing at the fragile bonds once woven. love, once a warm and comforting embrace, can feel like a jagged, icy terrain, each step a painful reminder of the shards of trust shattered.

thats what your relationship with love had been, stuck a in a relationship with a man who did not appreciate you and found himself raising his hand at you in frustration or tear into your soul with ice cold words that threatened to shatter your soul.

it had left you vulnerable and untrusting, unwilling to open up to a relationship ever again.

until a certain ferrari driver came along.

carlos sainz.

maybe it was the way he had looked at you across the ramp at the Milan fashion show ferrari had made him attend, surrounded by other celebrities he was uncomfortable around.

your label had made you attend to show your fans you were fine post the 'termination' of your old relationship.

your eyes had met his dark brown ones, a gentle sparkle in them, and he found his lingering on yours, taking in the sight of you in all your gorgeousness across the room.

he had come up to you after, shook your hand and introduced himself.

the thick accent had you blushing, and the sight of this greek god like man dressed in a black tuxedo with the most perfectly mussed up hair had your heart doing a little tango in your chest.

he was charming and sweet, offering you champagne at the after party and telling you about his career and passion for formula 1. he had also admitted to being a fan of your music, to which you had giggled, and he had smiled.

as the party wore on, you stuck to him, finding him to be the only sincere person in the ballroom full of fake smiles, the only person who brought genuine smiles and laughter to you.

within a few hours it felt like chatting to an old friend.

you ended the night with his phone number logged in your phone, and yours in his, and a mutual follow on both your ends on Instagram.

two days later, he sent you a video of himself at the track, with charles singing Adele in the background,with the caption 'wish i could have your voice serenading me before I step into the car instead of his'

you found yourself smiling, shaking your head at his antics, but also blushing at his lopsided smile.

but something in your brain made you stop, hesitate to reply.

the scars from the past were still fresh, and the memory of heartache loomed large. the prospect of opening your heart once more, or even flirting, felt like stepping onto shaky ground.

you found yourself replying with a simple smile emoji and a promise to send him whatever new song you'd be working on soon.

days sped by, with little texts shared and likes dropped on each other's posts.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

your friends asked you persistently about the nature of your relationship with the spaniard, to which you said "he's just a friend I made recently"

when you came to barcelona to record your album, you dropped him a text, to which he asked you to a simple dinner at his favourite restaurant.

even though your heart hammered against your chest and your brain screamed no, you accepted, trying to ignore the slight alarm in your body.

and the dinner was perfect.

carlos was nothing short of a gentleman, pulling your chair out for you, complimenting the way you looked, and your music and taking genuine interest in what you had to say.

carlos found himself utterly infatuated with your beauty, inside and out, and he swore every time you giggled his heart fluttered like a butterfly.

he loved the nervous way you pushed your hair back behind your ears when you got shy, or the intense concentration as you picked your pasta, which was a butternut squash ravioli, which you told him, was your favourite.

he loved how you got so intense when telling a story, and how your hands moved animatedly as you told him a funny story about your night at the Grammy's.

he couldn't help but laugh as you told your story, and he couldn't help the slight flush to his cheeks when you said, "you look handsome tonight" with a sweet smile.

"thank you bella" he said, the nickname dripping off his lips like the sweetest honey, sending a homely warmth through your body.

you'd be lying if you said you weren't arrested to the handsome spaniard in front of you.

he had worn a turquoise blue shirt, the first few buttons undone, and pristine white pants that looked absolutely phenomenal on his gorgeously tanned skin, the Spanish sun clearly doing wonders for him.

he looked like an angel descended from the heavens, his hair falling imperfectly perfectly across his forehead, and his lips looked so delectably plump and pink that you couldn't help your eyes fluttering down to them multiple times throughout dinner.

you loved the way his accent laid heavy, as he talked to you about the atmosphere at monza. you loved the passion in his eyes and his voice as he spoke about how much he adored his job, and how deeply he cared about ferrari.

you loved the way his eyes furrowed in concentration, as he listened intently to the story you were telling him, and the sincerity in his dark eyes, the rich and velvety brown eyes radiating warmth.

you couldn't help the way your heart beat quickened, when he pressed a kiss to the back of your hand, when you walked into the restaurant.

neither of you could deny the unspoken electric connection that you shared, zinging through the both of you like a bolt of lightning.

when you got out from the restaurant, he offered to drive you back to your hotel, the red ferrari purred through the streets as you both listened to the soft enrique iglesias songs playing on loop on the radio.

you continued sharing stories, as you made your way though the streets of barcelona, and by the time you reached your hotel, you found yourself unwilling to say goodbye to the handsome man beside you.

"so...this is me" you smiled, and he chuckled.

"I'm aware" he smiled back, and you giggled, leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek.

"thank you for tonight carlos. i really enjoyed myself" you told him sincerely, leaning over to squeeze his hands softly.

"you're welcome carino, I enjoyed myself too" he said, running a thumb over your knuckles.

for a moment, the urge to just grab him by his stupidly handsome face and kiss him zapped through your body, but fear stopped you.

you weren't ready for that.

you couldn't do that.

not all over again.

and yes while he had proved to be different, how could you know for sure that things wouldn't turn sour?

"i think I'll get going" you whispered, voice not strong enough to maintain its regular volume, and carlos nodded, a crease in his brow forming at the sudden tremble in your voice.

"sure, let me know if you'd like to hang out sometime later" he said, getting out to open the door for you.

you lingered in the dimly lit hallway for a second, not quite warning him to leave but not strong enough to tell him you liked him.

you fluttered between fear and intuition, before deciding on a middle ground : leaning up on tip toe to press a soft kiss to his cheek.

carlos found himself blushing, responding with yet another gentle. kiss to your hand, and then your forehead

"good night carino" he whispered.

"goodnight carlos" you smiled.

you watched him walk away, heart strumming against your chest.

oh, you were in for a hard time.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

carlos sighed as he looked at the list of media duties in front of him. he zoned out, sylvia's voice lulling him into a doze.

the soft ping of a text notification snapped him out of it, and he looked at is discreetly under the table.

y/n, carlos

you : thought of you when i saw this 🫶🏼

*one attachment*

looking at the message, carlos grinned.

carlos : haha. looks like I follow you wherever I go ;)

you : haha very funny carlos. how's imola going for you?

carlos : you've memorized my race schedule now? 😄

you : noo i just saw a post on Instagram

carlos : it's just media today which i hate so I'm just ready to go home already

you : i get that!! i don't like doing press either :(

carlos : yeah I'm in a meeting right now and I wish i was in my bed fast asleep

you : ....wait are you in a meeting RIGHT NOW?!?

carlos : yes

you : carlos 😭 why are you texting me then??

carlos : because I prefer it ;)

you : oh my gosh okay we'll talk later okay?

carlos : okay carino, have a good day

you : you too 💕

"carlos, can you please put your phone away?" sylvia's impatient voice broke the trance he was.

"yeah yeah" he mumbled a little grumpily, earning a short from charles and a nudge from his press officer.

but he didn't care. he'd prefer spending time with you over the press anyday.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

sighing, you scrolled through your camera roll, erasing any trace of your past relationship. it was gone. it wasn't a part of you anymore.

every deleted picture felt like a weight being lifted off your mind and your chest and tears filled your eyes.

the sheer relief that came with the alleviated pain had a gasp rising in your throat, coming out in a strangled choke.

before you knew it, you were sobbing, knees pulled up to your chest, tears running down your face, choked sobs leaving your throat, each one seemingly ripping your throat open.

you cried till your throat was raw and your body on the brink of exhaustion.

the sound of your phone ringing cut through, making you jump.

you watched as carlos' name flashed across the screen, and after taking a deep breath, you answered.

"hello?"

"buenos dias carino. como estas?" how are you he asked, his voice light and melodious, and you inhaled deeply, feeling the anxiety slowly leaving your body.

"I'm good carlos, what about you?" you replied, trying to keep your voice as steady as possible.

"all good carino. just missing you" he flirted, but you didn't miss the sincerity in his voice.

you felt your heartbeat increase in pace, a flush painting your cheeks.

"i miss you too.." you mumbled, embarrassment flooding you as you realized you really did miss him.

"then why don't I fly you out to Monza? its ferrari's home race and I'd love to see you in ferrari red" he said and you giggled.

"I'd love to carlos" you said, and you heard him laugh.

"okay then carino, I'll have the jet pick you up okay? does Thursday work for you? ill pick you up after media duties?" he said, and you awwed at his concern.

"i can just go to your hotel? you don't have to pick me up" you assured him, and after much convincing, he reluctantly agreed to have caco pick you up instead.

"just ask him if his name is carlos too" he had joked, smiling to himself when you let out a hearty laugh.

with promises to see each other soon, you hung up.

you took a deep breath, wiping away the salty tears, contrasting to the sweet smile on your face.

maybe, just maybe, you could watch love begin again.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Thursday rolled around, and you flew to Monza in carlos' jet, to be received by a man with a kind face and a bouquet of flowers waiting for you.

"you must be carlos?" you asked shyly, shaking his hand.

"yes, I'm carlos' cousin, but please call me caco" he had smiled, offering to take your backpack from you.

the two of you chatted on your way to the hotel, making jokes about all the carlos' in the Sainz family.

"how do you manage to keep them all distinct?' you had asked, and he had just laughed and said, "trust me, we don't"

you found yourself enjoying the company of the older man, who was as friendly as someone could be.

as you reached the hotel, you felt nerves spring in your belly, and you bit your lip anxiously.

caco noticed, and sent you a soft smile.

"you know, carlos doesn't usually invite people over. you must be special to him if he's called you to a race" and you tried your hardest to not warm up at his words, but the bright smile on your face said it all.

"come, let me show you to your room, it's next to carlos', and then we can wait in his room for him to come back he should be here soon" caco said, doing the needful with the reception staff.

with a sigh you sunk down into the plush cushions of the sofa in carlos' room after depositing all your baggage in your own room.

you and caco continued to talk for a bit, sharing stories and laughs till the door opened, and a pair of white sneakers made their way over to you.

"hola carino" carlos' voice rang through the room, and you turned on your heel, heart fluttering in your chest as you took in the sight of him, in his red and black ferrari shirt and apparently signature white pants.

neither of you noticed caco gently slip away, not wanting to intrude in the private moment.

"hello" you smiled, waving at him nervously.

in quick strides he made his way across the room, engulfing you in a big hug.

you inhaled the musky scent he wore, reminding you of dior sauvage, and focused on the feeling of his large, coarse palms gently rubbing your back.

"i missed you, y'know?" he mumbled, drawing away and gently caressing your cheek.

"i missed you too, so much' you replied, voice barely above a whisper.

"I'm happy you're here" he murmured, gently pushing a stray strand of hair behind your ears.

"I'm happy to be here, thank you so much for having me" you smiled at him.

"anytime, corazon" heart he flirted, and you flushed again.

the two of you spent some time chatting, before jet lag overtook you, and you ended up falling asleep with your head on his shoulder.

carlos gently pulled your legs up and out a pillow under your neck to prevent you from getting a crick as he laid you on the sofa, penning a small note when he realized that he had to run to meet fans in the hotel.

with an odd feeling of sadness, he tucked you in, leaving you, to head down.

he remained a little distracted, not quite able to focus when he truly just wanted to spend time with you.

he couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so deeply infatuated with someone, the last time someone had flooded his mind 24\7

you were so utterly perfect in so many ways, sweet and kindhearted, headstrong and independent, warm and funny, friendly and open.

but still, he felt a reluctance to be vulnerable, the walls you had put up that you refused to let him penetrate. he was also aware that you even coming to had been a huge step, and he could slowly work towards findings out what exactly was upsetting you.

with new found determination, he made his way back to the room.

upstairs, you were still fast asleep, and as he walked in he noticed the agitation on your face, the beads of sweat dripping down your forehead and the whimpers leaving your lips.

he rushed over to you, fingers gently shaking your tense shoulders, heart breaking at the whimpers escaping your lips, little murmurs of “please don’t hurt me..” leaving your lips, making his heart shatter.

still in a haze, you frowned, watching as the dark shaped got closer and close to you, you tried to run, but you were frozen in place, a scream rising to your throat only to stick, mouth open without making a single sound. the dark figure got closer and closer, ominous giggles leaving their mouth as they approached you, faceless, but for an evil smirk on their lips.

the figure reached out and touched your face, cold and clammy, and you felt a chill run down your spine.

"im going to hurt you," the figure whispered. you tried to speak, but no words would come out. you were trapped, helpless.

the figure leaned in closer, and you could feel its hot breath on your neck. It reached out and touched your throat.

you closed your eyes and waiting for the impact.

but then, you heard a familiar voice, sounding almost dreamlike and distant, like a guardian angel descending from the heavens to refuse you.

"wake up, carino! it’s just a dream. I’m here, estas a salvo” you're safe Carlos’ voice broke through and you awoke with a gasp.

carlos took in the sight of the tears dripping down your cheek, and the pants leaving your mouth, and he swore he felt his heart shatter.

"stay away" you whispered, bringing your knees to your chest to shield yourself.

"wh-what?" he mumbled, surprised.

"i said stay away!! don't touch me" you shouted, voice quivering with fear.

the storm of emotion in carlos' eyes sent self pity surging through your heart.

"oh, cariño mío, nunca, nunca, nunca te haría daño, te lo prometo." oh my darling, i would never ever ever hurt you,i promise he whispered, but still, he took a step back. he did not want to cross any boundaries.

"don't lie to me" you whimpered, shoulders shaking and chest rising and falling rapidly. you were still dazed, not quite processing that it was carlos in front of you, not your ex, and that he was the last person to raise a hand on you.

"im not lying, mi duce" he said sincerely, gently reaching his hand out to you.

"no! thats what he said too" you sobbed out, knees giving out as you fell to your knees on the ground, face buried in your hands as you sobbed.

carlos decided that space wasn't the answer. with steps as light as a feather, he was beside you in an instant, gingerly reaching out to stroke your hair.

surprisingly, you didn't push him away, but you did flinch, and the sight made Carlos's heart break further.

"oh, oh, cariño mío... siento mucho, mucho que eso te haya sucedido..."oh, oh my darling, I'm so so sorry that ever happened to you, he whispered, gently rubbing your arm, the warmth of his hands helping the shivers taking over your body.

"I'm sorry" you sobbed, embarrassment, guilt and shame coursing through your veins.

"no, why are you sorry? you haven't done anything wrong" he stated firmly, gently letting you lean into him, sniffling into his shirt.

he didn't care about the mess on his shirt. he didn't care about the fact that he was late for a press meeting. all he cared about was making sure that your were okay.

"i shouldn't have been so stupid, so stupid that someone had to hit me to make me see sense" you continued, mind so drowsy and scared you didn't even know what you were saying.

"you're not stupid, amor, i promise youre not. i am so sorry that happened to you but please, mi dulce, don't ever demean yourself. eres más valiosa para mí que el sol, la luna y las estrellas, y juro que hay millones de personas que piensan lo mismo. no puedo deshacer lo que tu ex ha hecho, pero haré todo lo posible para tratarte mejor y hacerte sentir amada de nuevo, si me das una oportunidad, mi cariño. significas el mundo para mí y pasaré cada día de mi vida demostrándotelo si es necesario." he said,You are worth more to me than the sun moon and stars and i swear there are millions of people who think so too. I cannot undo what your ex has done, but I can try my damn hardest to treat you better and make you feel loved again, if you will give me a chance, my darling. You mean the world to me and I'll spend every day of my life proving that to you if i have to", gently lifting your chin so he could look into your red eyes.

"I'm not worth it carlos.. you deserve someone who isn't a mess, who isn't wrecked, who isn't a useless, used thing, like me.." you started but you were cut off by carlos pulling you into a tight hug.

inhaling deeply, you let yourself sink into his embrace, clutching the material of his shirt as if you were scared he would disappear into thin air.

"you are everything to me" he murmured, and you looked up at him, gaze flicking from his sincere eyes, the worry lines on his forehead to his perfectly plump lips.

and in that moment you made a decision.

"kiss me" you whispered, hand reaching out to stroke his stubble.

"there's nothing I want more, carino, but..are you sure? no quiero que te arrepientas de esto más tarde." i don't want you to regret this later he said, and you smiled.

"nunca he estado más seguro de nada más."I've never been more sure of anything else you replied, gently pulling him down to meet your lips.

you closed the space between the two of you, pressing your body against his as your hands found home on his face and waist, his in your cheek and hips

carlos sighed softly, against your mouth hands moving to wrap around you, resting on your back as he kisses you back, with unfiltered passion.

you never thought that actually someone could actually leave you winded with just a kiss, but here was a man, something out of a story book, taking your breath away with a kiss.

"I've wanted to do that for so long" carlos mumbled against your lips, as you slowly pulled away, trying to ignore the butterflies fluttering in your belly.

"i have too, but i was scared.." you started off, but carlos cut you off with a feather soft kiss to your forehead.

"you don't owe me any explanation, mi amor. thank you for trusting me" he whispered, and you smiled.

"just... promise me you won't hurt me?" you asked, vulnerability evident in every syllable.

carlos responded with a soft kiss to your knuckles, to your cheeks, your forehead, your nose, and then finally your lips.

"never."

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

that summer, carlos took you to mallorca to meet his family.

he had brought you along, introducing you to his father, his mother, his sisters and a few cousins who had come to spend the summer.

carlos sainz sr had welcomed you with open arms, despite your initial nervousness. reyes had enveloped you in a warm hug, expressing her excitement at finally meeting the woman her son couldn't stop raving about, making the both of you blush.

his sisters, blanca and ana, had both gushed over you, making very little effort to hide how much they loved your music and how excited they were that their brother was dating you.

you were grateful at how welcoming and sweet his family was, how they treated you like one of their own, taking you sightseeing and taking you to their favourite spots, treating you to lovely lunches with the family, with reyes making you your first ever homemade gazpacho that you fell in love with.

out of everyone, you found yourself gravitating to her the most, and spent as much time with her as you could, laughing at stories she told you about carlos.

one evening she took you and her daughters out for a spa day. carlos couldn't hide the happy smile that refused to leave his lips the whole day, heart full at how well you meshed with his family.

"you look lovely dear" reyes warm tone greeted you as you made your way to the car so you could go to lunch and then a spa. she was so kind to you, even though she only met you a few days ago, she welcomed you into her family with open arms. "are you enjoying yourself, mi hija?" the nickname made you flush, as you nodded, a shy smile on your lips "don’t be shy!" she said, gently squeezing your shoulder, eyes twinkling

"mallorca is really beautiful! i really like it here" you said, a genuine smile on your lips, and reyes nodded. "thats good because I get the feeling we'll have you over much more often now", blanca added from the back seat.

she winked at you which made the four of you laugh.

"well, i hope i can visit much more often" you said, smiling at the three sainz women in front of you.

"you will, i know for a fact my brother is head over heels for you with how he looks at you like you hung the stars sun sky and the entire cosmos up" ana said sagely, making blanca snort.

"don't expose him like that, he'll kill you if he hears you told her that" her older sister chided

"I'm not wrong! he doesn't bring anyone home unless he's serious about them!" ana said indignantly, and you felt your heart flutter

"my carlito is very shy, hija, and that's why we were so happy when he told us you were dating, and even more when he said he was bringing you home" reyes said to you, a nostalgic smile on her lips as she thought back to when all her children were babies.

"you're a lovely person, y/n. i knew it the moment you walked in the door, and I know you make carlos so happy. welcome to the family unofficially, mi hija" she said softly, to voices of agreement from ana and Blanca and you felt tears rise to your eyes.

overwhelmed with emotion, all you could do was squeeze their hands and say a soft "thank you"

later that night, as you and carlos for ready for bed, he came up to you, wrapping his arms around you, pressing soft kisses to your neck and shoulders, massaging your shoulders with lotion.

"what did you talk to my mother and sisters about mi dulce?" he asked, pressing a gentle kiss to your collarbone.

"thats a secret, amor" you smirked and he whined, burying his face in your neck.

"ana has been winking at me all evening and poking me in the side. what did you dooo" he whined like a child and you giggled.

"i can't tell you,but they were all so lovely" you said, climbing into bed, as carlos snuggled up to you.

"see? i told you they'd all love you. my dad told me today as well, he thinks you're a perfect match for me and he'd like to take you for a round of golf sometime" he said, running his fingers through your hair.

"I'd love that" you smiled, kissing his nose.

of course, it didn't stop there.

before you knew it, carlos' lips were on yours. you pushed him away with a giggle, knowing it wouldn't stop at one.

"please amor, just one more, I've barely seen you today" he pouted and you rolled your eyes at his antics.

“fine. just one. one more kiss and that’s—”

carlos' mouth pressed against yours in a desperate kiss, mumbling a quick ,"yes, hmm, yes," as he nudges the tip of his tongue against yours to open up, trying to get you a more passionate kiss.

you pull back with a gasp, hands against his chest, “no no no no no. you need to behave and i only said one and your entire family is here and this is more than one —" he cut you off mid way again, pressing a flurry of pecks your lips.

desperately trying to keep your thoughts straight, you begins to cave in as his teeth gently nibble at your bottom lip, pulling it away and his eyes watching as it snaps back in its place, his tongue meets yours again.

you whine, body relaxing slowly into his, hands resting on his chest and face, monetarily forgetting the fact that you were making out with him in his family home.

"ay dios mio!" caco's voice exclaims and you jump, pulling away from carlos.

"por favor, cierra la puerta si vas a involucrarte en estas actividades, hermano." he said backing out of the room.

"qué quieres, caco?" carlos yelled after him, grinning at the sight of you burying your face in the blanket, shouting out an apology to caco.

"just wanted to say good night, which I now know you'll have!" he shouted back and you gasped, pulling the sheets over your face.

you were sure ana in the next room must have heard it.

"carlos" you whine as he laughs, anas voice floating in from next door "please don't traumatise me!"

all of a sudden, he pins you down, fingers ticking your sides, relishing the sound of your laughter.

“im so in love with you, angel, te amo." he whispered.

"te amo carlos" you mumbled, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his lips.

everything had changed, thankfully for the better.

and you could not be happier.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

a/n : might make it multi part or just leave it like this, please let me know which one you'd prefer!!

as always likes, reblogs comments, opinions etc are appreciated!! much love always 😘

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[hometoursandotherstuff]

This is the most unusual rental I've ever seen. What were they thinking? It's a townhouse in San Diego, CA, has 3bds, 2.5ba, and they want $3999mo.

So, this is what you see when you open the front door.

You enter this very unusual kitchen. I've never seen cabinets like that.

The tile flooring.

The half bath has a black toilet and what looks like a homemade sink.

Leaving the kitchen, there's plenty of room for a dining table.

The doorway in the kitchen has columns and jagged rocks.

Above the doorway there are gargoyles and what looks like the Goddess of Wine. (Is there a goddess of wine?)

There's a small hall here with some more, but different, columns.

This is a very interesting room. I would say that this would be the living room. Now, I'm confused- that thing on the right looks like a clear pyramid.

I don't know what this is, could it be 2 volcanoes?

Since this is a townhouse, the bedrooms are upstairs. I wonder if a previous tenant did the artwork, or if it was the landlord.

This one looks like the primary bedroom.

And, this is the 2nd bd.

The full bath.

There's a laundry area, which is important when you rent.

A terrace, which is nice to have.

You can look at the terraine.

More than likely, this is a reasonable rent in San Diego, unless you're paying more for the decor.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/4971-Vista-Pl-San-Diego-CA-92116/2093742853_zpid/

[calxprince]

❀ LOVE, OR THE LACK THEREOF (5)

. . . a kabru x gender neutral reader story

# CHAPTER 5 : Someone He Loved Once

# genre : multiple parts. breakup angst. reader can't move on for the life of them.

# notes : a beefier chapter than last time to apologize for the long wait!!!! happy 20k words to lotlt ♡ ( 6025 words )

-: ✧ :-゜・． MASTERLIST <- click me!

It's impossible to pick yourself back up when everything good about your life revolved around him.

was it unhealthy? yes

but you can't help it.

TO SAY THAT THE JOURNEY WAS BORING WAS AN UNDERSTATEMENT— it was uneventful, dare you even say completely and utterly mundane. The never-ending corridors of plain, jagged, gray stone walls surround you as the scenery remains unchanging despite the hundreds of miles you have trudged on.

It has come to the point that your mind has coiled in on itself, where the even the smallest sights of slightly damp walls— or quite even the appearance of moss on the walls was enough to keep you entertained. Any slight change in the rigid texture and cracks in the walls were enough to bring you slight joy. You have begun to stray a good distance away from the rest of the party, taking your time running your fingers on the walls.

Mostly because you didn’t want to be hit in the face with the fact that you are now considered an outsider in regards to their party— as well as be faced to face with a clear view of Kabru from behind, chatting away with Rin.

So instead, you sought after lonesome comfort in the grooves of the wall.

Those miniscule changes in the terrain were the only landmarks to signal that, hey! You’re not running around in circles chasing after your own tail.

You are immensely grateful that someone had taken the time to hack and slash through the overgrown, poisonous tentacles that littered the spiral staircase between the floors. Without their efforts, you wouldn't have ever dared to venture below your usual rounds.

And then there were the frogs.

The enormous, very big, and I mean, very big frogs that inhabited this area.

You couldn't help but shudder at the sheer image of their bulging eyes and the almost neon color of their skin.  Why would you ever look at a frog that is basically neon orange and say— oh yeah! That’s perfectly fine to pass down here, with the orange frogs!

Shouldn’t it be basic knowledge at this point that the wilder, and more colorful something is, it’s most probably deadly?

Well, nothing about a dungeon is safe…

You find yourself torn between two intense emotions. On one hand, you want to shower the unknown adventurer who cleared the path with gratitude, for being the sole reason why you ever dared to venture down here. While on the other hand, there's a burning urge to skewer them with your staff and roast them over an open fire, cursing them for initiating this chaotic butterfly effect that led to your current situation.

 It was driving you insane.

You start to wonder why you ever bothered to become an eager adventurer of the dungeon, taking on extreme life or death risks for the sake of a couple of gems and coins— and even possibly nothing but the sweet satisfaction of taking down a formidable foe.

However, that sweet, delicious taste of victory was not enough to bring food to the table.

Could it be worth the satisfaction that came from telling your tales to other adventurers, to earn their respect? Forget about it.

Because despite how gruesome, treacherous and relentless your stories of your adventures are; they will always just be, and forever will be, tales to them. It could possibly score you a couple hears from the wandering children, with their awe-struck gazes and wild imagination— accompanied by promises and wishes of ‘I want to be just like you one day!’ before getting ushered away by their parents.

 The adults do try their best not to dampen their aspiring dreams, and childlike wonder but you could always tell their non-believing expressions.

However, the masses in hearing range of your tales tell a different story. They only bother to stifle a laugh using the palms of their hands, eagerly whispering to each other. Because, without proof of your vigilant victory; you are nothing but a made-up fool, full of nothing but tales pulled straight from your ass.

In short, you’re full of shit until you can prove it.

You would rather not drag an entire dragon corpse up to the surface, let alone its own skull. It’s too much labor, for a measly pat on the back.

A ‘Good Job!’ is not worth the possibility of you developing either a strain, scoliosis or carpal tunnel— or possibly even all three at once.

It was either, go big or go home.

Or die trying.

You sigh, softly shaking your head around like a tree wishing to drop the fruits of your worrying mind. Gaze drifting across to the rest of the party, who’s mundane conversations fall silent in your ears. You drag your feet reluctantly behind them, watching as your sluggish actions lead to a greater distance. Your usual skip, and pep to your step has long vanished— alongside the great desire for a fresh new adventure.

Your nails scratch at the rocky, rough walls. It left white, powdery streaks along the way. However, the sensation of the constant vibrations being sent through your fingertips quickly began to infuriate you.

You cringe at the feeling, quickly retracting your arm back to your sides— trying to shake off the icky feeling that floods though your skin.

Eerily slow footsteps trailed behind, accompanied by a low, guttural groan that seemed to vibrate through the air. You anxiously patted around your stomach, wondering if your gut was busy (and noisy) complaining. You haven’t necessarily stopped to eat for a good while, so it wasn’t that outrageous for it to suddenly grumble.

However, the sound was unsettling, and you clenched your teeth out of sheer embarrassment, eyes darting towards the rest of the party. They were still a decent distance away, so you crossed your fingers and swore on your heart, hoping they didn’t hear a thing.

Why was it so loud? It echoed, not feeling the typical shake and waver in your stomach as it continued. How long as it really been since you last ate? Minutes? Hours? Days?

Luckily, they all seemed completely unaffected by the sudden sound. It would’ve been shocking— and extremely embarrassing— if they heard your stomach from that far away.

Also, were your footsteps always that dense sounding? You halt for a second, looking below at your footwear— taking a few experimental taps on the floor, and possibly trying a couple of tap-dancing moves that you saw in front of a saloon once.

…

If you were the one up on that stage, you would’ve ended up walking away in shame while covered head to toe in tomatoes.

You stop before anyone ends up becoming the unfortunate fool who turns around and becomes the witness of your… undesirable dance moves. God, what would Kabru think if he saw you?

Disregard that. He’s already, and very unfortunately, been the unlucky witness to your dancing. Back when the music and gleeful chatter of the local festivals was just about enough to get you moving and knocking on his door—wearing your best, flowy attire for the occasion.

 You dragged him out to the central area of the village, your hand clasped around his wrist, looking back occasionally to smile at him out of sheer excitement. The village square was alive with vibrant colors, the scent of blooming flowers mingling with the aroma of freshly baked goods. Lanterns hung overhead, casting a warm, golden glow on the cobblestone streets.

The music alone suddenly made you want to jump around with glee, stomping around with the little grace you had.

 You couldn't ever forget his face when you first turned your head over your shoulder. You were too busy in your own little world when you tugged him away, but Kabru...

 Oh, Kabru.

He was the most beautiful sight you have ever seen in your entire life.

 Not even the greenest, vastest, and prettiest of valleys full of flowers for miles could rival his face in that moment. Everything stopped; it was as if time and space itself had unanimously agreed to pause for him and him only.

He looked at you, and only you. From his gaze alone, it spoke millions of words. It was a whole confession in itself.

 His eyes were wide, mouth agape, his hair perfectly tussled by the wind, the sun shining bright into his eyes. His cheeks were flushed with a delicate blush, a stark contrast to the golden glow of the setting sun.

 Kabru was like a painting brought to life; a piece of art that is timeless through decades, one that requires to preserved and passed down through generations— due to his beauty alone.

He was being tugged around by his heartstrings, twiddled with by your gentle fingers. His breath hitched with every step, his awe-stricken gaze never leaving your figure despite every stone or pebble he trips up on.  

…

It served as a painful reminder that once in your life, Kabru loved you for you. For the sake of breathing the same air as you— for the sake of merely existing with you. No matter how rough around the edges you are, no matter who you were.

He still loved you once.

Even when you barely knew how to waltz, despite the sheer confidence you had at the beginning as you tugged him toward the heart of the village, joining the bustling crowd full of dancing townspeople.

Even when he had the whole dance engraved in his brain for all his life, he still offered a genuine smile to you as you tumbled and staggered around. His eyes would crinkle at the corners, a soft chuckle escaping his lips, as he watched you fumble with the steps.

Even when your disorganized feet ended up crushing his own under your shoes, or when you fell forward and crashed into his chest after another couple pushed you from behind—he still smiled. His hands, deliberate and gentle, would take yours and guide you through the dance. The warmth of his touch sent chills down your spine, steadying you, grounding you.

He chuckles as he twirls you around by your waist, watching as you struggle to keep up with the pace— but still catching you with his hand pressed into the dip of your back.

Kabru’s patience was infinite, his laughter a consistent cushion to your embarrassment. His presence alone was a comforting.

His eyes downturned, with a gentle and gleeful air to him. The scent of his cologne mixed with the fresh, cool evening air, which almost drove you insane. One that made you want to kiss him, over and over until his lips turn blue— dragging him by his cheeks towards you until you end up tumbling all over the floor.

Even when the world felt chaotic and your steps were unsure, Kabru’s love was a constant.

He accepted you, not just as his partner, not just as a friend— but accepted you as a person.

He found beauty in your flaws.

But only once.

For now, he has seen the ugly in your flaws.

And you have, too.

Due to you dwelling on your miserable daydreaming, you ended up taking slower and fewer steps than usual. The groans, the dense footsteps that stagger with each step— they don’t stop.

Instead they grow closer,

louder.

Until a pair of hands dig into your shoulders, or more so, whatever is left of its rotten, foul-smelling fingers. The stench surpassed any smell you had ever had the displeasure of smelling. The nails are unruly and unkempt, some already lost to the relentless rot, leaving behind raw, exposed patches of skin on the fingers. It made you gag, feeling it’s intense grip onto your shoulders.

You yelp, lunging forward as you frantically shrug off its deathly grip. Your feet stagger as you began falling forward— your hands catching the floor in front of you in a swift motion. Using your staff for support, you desperately push yourself back onto your feet, twisting your body to face the ghoul. You stagger, feeling yourself struggling to breathe.

 The body it had inhabited was rotten beyond recognition, so decayed that it seemed on the verge of becoming a skeleton. The skin had peeled and melted away, revealing patches of bone beneath. You doubt that the corpse contained any vital organs anymore; it was just a miserable skeleton wrapped in whatever is left of its skin.

With enough fear and adrenaline to kill a man, you raise your staff just high enough to aim straight at its chest. Your grip is firm, though your mind is frazzled beyond measure. Your hands thrust the wooden staff forward, with enough force for it to push against its chest and scoot it backwards. It lets out a loud groan as  you twist it deeper, the sound of fragile bones and skin being crushed beneath it.

 With a quick blast from your staff, it separates the ghost from the unfortunate victim.

The force of the sudden attack was enough to send you flying, you may have overreacted a little. Using an attack meant for larger crowds of more, formidable foes.

Actually, you overreacted a lot.

It only set in fully once you saw yourself inches from the ground, feet set free in the air.

You hit the rough floor with a skidding thud, groaning as you watch the ghost dissipate into the air. The body it had previously possessed falls forward, with an echoing thud. You lie there for a moment, catching your breath, your heart still racing from the encounter.

Your face contorts into disgust as you stare at the dead body only inches away from your feet. You use your staff to gently push its face away from letting its empty eye sockets stare back at you, however you soon regret the decision.

The push resulted in a loud cracking noise, which made you wince and scoot away from your current position.

‘Did I end up breaking its neck…?!’ You panic internally.

“Are you okay?” A frantic shriek rips through the air, alongside the quick thud of footsteps that suddenly crowd around you. It was almost cartoonish, to say the least— like mice to a piece of cheese.

Except you’re the cheese that didn’t bother checking your surroundings, despite the obvious sound cues that there was something trailing behind you. You began skimming through the contents of your brain to look out for a good excuse as to why you weren’t paying attention to your surroundings.

When… That was basically your whole job and responsibility after you chose to stay a great distance behind the party.

“Yeah, just fine. I just got caught off guard, is all.” You try to cushion the throbbing pain in your spine and bottom with gentle laughter, waving your hand around in the air to swat away their worries. It didn’t help to ease their concerned expressions, instead worrying them even more as their frowns and confused faces worsen.

You didn’t bother dwelling on their general reaction, however…

You couldn’t get yourself to ignore the fact that Kabru was the first one to come running to you.

You couldn’t shake off the chill in your spine either, when he suddenly slowed down to trail behind the rest of the party before he could get too close.

‘Curse you, Kabru and your stupid mixed signals …!’

“That was definitely far from ‘just caught off guard,’ with that powerful of a blast, you could’ve ended up wiping out an entire army of ghouls...!” Rin gawks at your nonchalant behavior, overriding her usual scowl etched onto her face. Her eyebrows soften, turning upwards as she leaves her jaw wide open. She was genuinely concerned. Which honestly shocked you more than the ghoul did.

Maybe she should keep the scowl.

She is way too beautiful when she isn’t scowling.

“I do admit that I overreacted to the situation.” You flutter your eyes shut, chuckling. “But to be honest, I just got really shocked when it suddenly grabbed me.” Your gaze averts away from their prying eyes, your nails digging and scratching the soft skin in the nape of your neck.

You really, really wished that you hadn’t defended yourself in that moment. Instead, you wished that you had instead been killed by that same ghoul.

Just so you wouldn’t have to sit there pathetically as they all stared at your embarrassed misery. You understood their concern, but it honestly tore you into shreds as your whirring mind fed more and more degrading comments into your self-conscious.

And you hated it.

You hated every second of it.

It was no secret to you that you had always secretly wished to find yourself in this exact situation. The strange, deep warmth in your heart grew stronger when they gather around you. Their concerned gazes, the way their lips curved downwards in worry, and their comforting grasps that made your heart race. Alongside that one stare that pierced through you, reaching down to your very bones.

You once secretly yearned to be vulnerable in front of them, to finally command their undivided attention. It was a bittersweet wish that you, unfortunately, craved deeply during those lonely nights.

But once it finally happened to you, the feeling of déjà vu was sickening. It was bitter and distasteful, a moment that only filled you with raged as they all caught you red handed with your tail between your legs (and your unfortunately sore butt cheeks). It made you angry, and it makes you so much more frustrated not knowing why.

Could it have been the possibility of them doubting you?

Could it have been you interpreting their concern as them looking down on you?

Or could it all just have been the look on Kabru’s face?

This distant gaze, unreasonably unreadable and filled with stoic indifference— stayed monotone throughout the entire time. His lips pressed into a firm, unyielding line. His eyes half-lidded, unfocused as it represented his evident detachment as he stared down below to look at your form sprawled out on the cold floor. Though buried in the crowd of others, his presence lingering in the back, he still stood out the most.

With what little time you allotted for yourself to stare, you still found yourself digging around his cold expression— desperate to get a taste of, even a sliver of concern on his face.

…

And to your, fortunate?

…Unfortunate?

Let’s stick to unfortunate.

…

To your unfortunate dismay, you did.

The typical person would have never read through his stoic expression right in the moment, nor even put too much thought into his— currently irrelevant— presence.

But you?

Oh, you could see right through him. Beyond all his superficial 'people-pleaser, number one manipulation tactic' masks that he uses to puppet himself through and into people’s hearts, there was always a sliver of a crack that you could stare into.

That one figurativecrack you always seemed to be drawn to, one that dug in so deep that it leads straight into his heart and soul.

You can’t seem to stop yourself from diving back into old habits.

You found yourself lost in the maze of conflicting emotions swirling within the deep hue of his eyes. His intense, half-lidded eyes locked onto yours with an almost desperate focus— lost in time and in the deep sea of your own gaze.

His lips quivered but only slightly. One that made you think that he had the urge to speak out, to ask if you’re okay. But his voice falls silent by his tongue, full of words that never seem to dare go past his lips.

Kabru’s face, oh his face.

His eyes downturned and heavy with unspoken words, softened the moment you met his stare, creating an unspoken connection that lingered in the air between you.

It made you so irrationally angry.

It made you want to curse at the gods above for ever granting you the ability to connect with him more than anyone else would. The ability to read and break through his charades as the fool, and instead see him as himself.

It felt like a curse right in this moment.

But why?

Isn’t this what you had always wanted?

It was. It really was.

You hated that he still cared. You hated it so much. You hated it so much to the point that you wanted to kill him, to skin him— to gut him from the inside out. You wanted him to just explode right in that moment. The fact that he cared, and the fact that you’ll always and forever will know that he does.

...You hated how it made you feel.

You hated the sudden racing pace of your heartbeat, the way it rung in your ears like a distant drum. You hated the sudden numbness that possesses each nerve in your body, limb to limb. You hated the way your head spun, the way you couldn’t keep your eyes away from him.

You clench your teeth, lips sealed together to prevent yourself from baring them. Squeezing your eyes shut in desperation, opening them to keep your gaze locked onto anyone— anything but him.

Luckily, your eyes met with an outstretched palm— tearing your gaze away from the rigid floor, you found yourself looking into the concerned eyes of Holm.

His eyes were soft, reflecting a genuine worry that contrasted with the cold, unforgiving surroundings. You sighed, offering him a small, grateful smile before hesitantly placing your hand in his. With a firm tug, he helped you back onto your feet, his strength steadying you as you staggered back up.

As you dust yourself off free from any dirt, Holm provides you with a couple of pats in the dip of your back.

“But seriously though, how come you didn’t notice? If it was that close to you for it to be able to grab you, you should have heard it coming. I doubt it was that close in the first place …” Holm teases, shrugging his shoulders as he stares at you from the side. The rest of the party unanimously agree with his sentiment, suddenly growing more and more suspicious over your situation.

You bite the inside of your cheek, fumbling with the fabric of your shirt. “I was… lost in thought for a bit. I wasn’t paying too much attention to my surroundings, must be the fatigue getting to me.”

You look back down, flinching as your feet instinctively shuffle away from the lifeless body sprawled on the floor. The sight sends a shiver down your spine, an insatiable itch settling down your throat full of prickly unease. Goosebumps rise on your skin, the unsettling reality finally seeping into you. The body lies still and inanimate, haunting you.

“Is there any chance to… revive that guy?” Mickbell winces, taking a couple careful steps backwards. He accidentally backs up and into Kabru’s chest, who places his hands on his shoulders and gently redirects him.

"It's possible... but at this point, I doubt there's any hope for him. His bind to his soul is so weak, and his physical body is rotten beyond recognition. It would take a lot of calories and meat to basically rebuild all his missing parts, not to mention that he already feels hollow inside." You sigh, running your hand through the stray hairs that obscure your vision.

You use the butt of your staff to roll the corpse over to lay on its back, wincing at the thick ‘thump!’ sound that comes from the body. You deliberately pull back at the bottom of his shirt, rolling it upwards as the inner skeleton and ribs show itself to you. The organs are disgustingly missing.

"Putting him out of his misery is pointless since his soul will always stay trapped inside this dungeon. Taking him to the surface for a proper burial won't honor anything because we don't have anything to properly identify the body..." you mumble. You recall the pads of his fingertips, either completely lacking skin or scarred to the point of interfering with the fingerprints.

Mickbell shifts uneasily, rolling a pebble from beneath his boot. "So... we just leave him here then?" He grimaces, his expression worsening the longer he stares at the decaying body.

"Sounds like the best option. Though we should at least cast a ward on him, so he doesn't get possessed again by a ghost, and let's cast some on ourselves for protection," Kabru suddenly speaks up. His voice is calm but firm, acting as a beacon of hope to lift the spirits of his party members. It took every cell and atom in your body not to roll your eyes, hating how mature he has become in time.

Kabru suddenly turns his head to face Holm, eyes wide and expectant, the urgency evident in his gaze. His eyes dart back and forth between Holm and the body, as if silently pleading with the gnome to understand his wordless request. Kabru tilts his head subtly, giving a nudge in the direction of the corpse. It was obvious he didn’t want to ask you to place the charms, despite his endless knowledge of your capabilities.

However, Holm throws his hands in the air as he shrugs off the sudden implications. He plays it off, acting completely oblivious at his desperate pleas.

“What are you looking at me for?”

Kabru’s confident stance wavers, the corner of his eye twitches as he tries to redirect the situation into one he deems is correct. As he always did.  

“Holm. Don’t you know how to…?” His voice is hesitant, almost mirroring a shaking fist as his soft voice tries to carry over the urgency and weight of the situation to Holm.  

“Huh? No, absolutely not. I’m not at all knowledgeable about those kinds of spells. If I tried, I’d probably end up casting a spell that attracts spirits to the body instead of warding them away,” Holm comments with a nonchalant shrug, his tone casual and dismissive. He rides off Kabru’s growing frustration with amusement.

It was a priceless moment, and you couldn't help but chuckle as you watched Kabru struggle to maintain his composure. You could almost see the exasperation radiating off him, picturing him internally throwing his head back, hands pressed to his face, and groaning in sheer frustration. The contrast between Holm's relaxed attitude and Kabru's barely contained and growing irritation was comical.

“Aren’t you like, a gnome? You’re the second leading race in the growing studies of magic education.” Kabru barks back, his polite tone wavering under the frustration. He grits his teeth beneath his smile, as if by saying that— Holm would magically learn the spell for it with the snap of his fingers. Or a page from your old grimoire would fall out, and Holm would read it for the 10 seconds it would be on the floor— then learn it.

“Hey, just because I am gnome doesn’t mean I should know everything!” Holm rebuked, a soft pout spreading on his lips as he did. He spreads his palms out, arms pressed as he waves his hands in defense for his lack of knowledge in that area.

Kabru remains to smile, however it was quite obvious to everyone that it was fake. His technique at hiding his irritation was faltering the more he began desperate to turn this situation into a favorable one. You could sense the race to his impending defeat, just from the sight of his strained expression.

His neck crooked as he suddenly turns to Rin, almost as if he were on his knees as he looked at her with pleading eyes— a last minute attempt to spindle this situation back into the strings under his control. “How about you, Rin?”

Rin blushes, much to your dismay. Dismissively turning her face away from him, scowling as her gaze instead dives into the world of the mossy dungeon walls. In response, she tucks an arm under her chest— the other making itself busy as it twirls her long, jet-black hair.

“I’m only skilled at offensive magic. My healing is only as good as any beginner mage, just the basics.” She replied with a scoff, almost hinting that she wished she knew how— to be able to please Kabru and his desperate attempts to avoid you. If you were in her shoes in that moment, you would probably immediately fold and worship the ground he walks on.

Could you blame yourself for that though? As irritating his face could be, he looked so pathetic and desperate!

…

You cringe at your own thoughts.

“How about…” Kabru’s voice falters, his head snapping around in a frantic search. He locks eyes with Mickbell, then Kuro, and finally Daya, each of them turning their heads with a speed that seemed almost otherworldly. Daya crosses her arms in a firm ‘X’, her stance a clear, unspoken denial.

“Of course not,” Kabru mutters to himself, his frustration evident now. He pinches the bridge of his nose, his eyes squeezed closed tightly as his eyebrows furrow, and lets out a long, exasperated sigh. His shoulders slump, and his hand rests on his hip as he begins to accept his defeat. It was clear now: there was no escape from you, and the weight of that realization settled heavily on him.

It all led back to you.

“C’mon! We finally got Y/N back in the party anyway, no need to worry about being harassed by ghouls. They know how to.” Mickbell threw his arms behind his back, walking up to Kabru to nudge him using his hip— trying to pull the male out of his defeated, slumped form.

“But...”

“No buts! The longer we take down here, the less time we have before another Ghoul pulls up on us!”

Kabru sighs. “Fine.”

His shoulders roll back into his typical confident stance, taking a deep breath for courage before finally looking back up at you. You’re dumbfounded, not thinking that the comedic scene would end up back into your hands like a… Game of ‘Hot Potato'.

You shuffle on your feet, feeling the sudden weight of responsibility on your shoulders. “So, Who’s first..?”

For some reason, the entire party (minus Rin, who seemed to have missed out on the memo) turns their heads toward Kabru in a perfectly choreographed movement. It was as if they had rehearsed this moment, their collective gaze ganging up on him on instinct.

Dare you even say, out of habit.

Rin, meanwhile, stands there looking dumbfounded, her eyes widening as she realizes she’s the only one still focused on you.

Kabru freezes, his face momentarily blank as he cushions his nervousness with a chuckle.

“No, no. I cannot…” he stammers, shaking his head vigorously in a futile attempt to dismiss the sudden peer pressure from his party members. His eyes dart around the hallway, searching desperately for an escape route.

“Daya! How about you? Ladies first!” Kabru exclaims, his voice dripping with desperation as he insists with a firm determination. He sprints behind the dwarven blonde, his hands gripping her shoulders. He shuffles her toward you, as if trying to nudge her into taking his place, his frantic actions seemingly feeding into Daya’s bemused expression.

“Don’t you al—” Daya starts, but is immediately silenced by his gloved hand. He laughs, trying to save himself by staring back into the other eyes of his teammates. Which, also made no impact as they all seemed to be unwilling.

Kabru groans internally, which he could curl up and die in that moment. Or, kill everyone and all possible witnesses to his vulnerable fear of interacting with you again.

Talking to you? Fine.

Looking at you? Fine.

You, touching him? He draws the line there.

But he can’t run away from the situation that he set up himself anymore. Instead he slumps his shoulders, dragging his feet as he makes his way in front of you. “Make it quick.” He whispers, aware of your tense shoulders.

You take a deep breath— your hands trembling slightly as you press your fingers against his forehead. The warmth of his skin contrasts sharply with the coldness of your touch, and you could feel him shiver beneath your palm. He squeezes his eyes shut, his hands clenching into tight fists as he tries to steady himself.

He could feel your breath on his face.

“Lifgant, Ardinbam” You mumble, feeling the soft tingle of mana flow through your veins and out your fingertips. To an outsider, it might seem like nothing is happening—no visible cues to indicate the spell's progress. Only the caster can truly understand what was going on, a magical sensation that could only ever be felt and remain unseen.

You hands lift off from the skin of his forehead, now instead firmly pressing up against his chest. Once you were sure that the blessing had been set in place properly, you gently halt the flow of mana, lifting your hands with a careful hesitation. Your fingertips graze over the worn leather of his chest plate, brushing lightly over his chest before withdrawing.

Your fingers curl back to your side, retreating from his chest with deliberate care. The subtle warmth of the magic lingers in the air, a faint, almost imperceptible residue of the spell’s power. As you let your hands fall, the delicate trace of magic remains, a barely-there whisper of the enchantment that has just been cast.

“All done,” you whisper, your voice breathless and soft. You take a step backward, your movement deliberate, allowing him the space he needs as you just partook in a… awfully weird and intimate moment with him.

Was it really though? You dare to question, but you can’t get yourself to ignore the roaring pang or desire that struck through your heart. Kabru hesitates in his movement, as if waiting for one last thing out of habit. You usually kissed him after. But, after keeping his stance and his eyes closed for a couple moments longer— he pulls away.

“Thank you,” Kabru slurred, his voice barely audible— it was gruff, as if all the saliva in his throat and mouth had dried up in that moment. He coughs, attempting to redo his comment to be able to say it smoothly in a second try.

“I mean, Thank you.” He echoes, meeting your gaze for a fleeting second before quickly turning away, retreating behind the others as if seeking refuge from the sudden vulnerability of the moment.

You extend a hand with a gentle wave, signaling for the next person in line to step forward. The gesture is both practical and reassuring, a silent invitation for them to come closer. Mickbell excitedly jumps up, almost completely compressing himself and scrunching his body mid-air— like a coiled spring. He almost stumbles over completely as he makes his way towards you, using his hand as a way to keep himself upright and avoid accidentally crashing into the floor.

The rest of the party, including you— chuckle at his eagerness to receive a simple blessing. The shared laughter lightens the mood, a welcome break from the tension. His eagerness, though a bit amusing, is endearing, and it brings a moment of relief to the group. You don’t ever wish to have it any other way.

Never in a million, no, a billion years.

It sparked a new happiness in your heart, a little hope that life may look better in the future. That maybe, just maybe— losing once is not the end of the world. Because in the long run, even the smallest of details (like Mickbell almost faceplanting into the floor, which you had to admit got a little chuckle out of you) would make you happy.

After all, simple joys in life can go a long way.

And maybe It was all you ever needed.

…

Though, It makes you begin to realize; this journey will take a lot longer than you thought it would.

What once was a ‘couple of days’ seemed to stretch out into weeks, and possibly for longer.

Though, it might not be as bad as you make it out to be.

A little hope wont hurt anybody.

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