#also I have other thoughts too but I’m trying not to go to prison

[idolomantises]

In all honesty, I kind of predicted this outcome a few weeks ago, so it’s hard to really feel that disappointment and despair I felt in 2016.

I just think “wow that sucks. But I’ll live. I know I’ll survive. I know my family and friends will survive. I’m not going to succumb to despair. It’s not worth it.”

[snarltoothed]

this would be so funny to send as a middle-aged wife whenever your good for nothing husband who fell either into addiction or abusiveness when he got laid off in 2008 starts acting up but you’re 55 looking 45 and he’s ambiguously in his 60s and unlike him you didn’t age out of your sense of humor and ability to socialize so he just has to humble himself and shut up

image found while on google images ©

[hyperions-light]

Someone was being a fucking hater on my explicitly positive DATV post AGAIN (u all know I can see your tags right. They get delivered to me express mail style) so here’s an essay about how I thought the Grey Warden plotline was great:

First, it was extremely lore-consistent. I don’t know how to tell people this, but the Grey Wardens simply are sort of shady— it’s part of their charm. In DAO alone we found out they:

- kill anyone who refuses the joining

- are definitely using a blood magic ritual to induct people

- tried to usurp the throne of Fereldan

In DA2 they:

-Forced Malcolm Hawke to perform a blood magic ritual against his will to contain Corypheus, by threatening to kill his family

- Built a giant prison in the mountains they didn’t tell anyone about and that someone could wander into and not be able to escape

- the entire Corypheus thing. They didn’t even tell the other Wardens like what he was or how dangerous he was.

DAI:

- the demon army thing was pretty bad

And that’s not even mentioning any stuff from the books or comics or shows! That’s just stuff in the games!

So they’re shady. It’s okay! They’re my little woobie guys, idc if they’re sort of shady!

But the plot in DATV is about all of those previously established issues coming back to bite them in the fucking ass, as they should! Knock knock, it’s the consequences of your actions, baby! The chickens are home to roost

(Which is just good storytelling. Like if you set up a bunch of issues and then never pay them off or anything that’s bad.)

Destroying Weisshaupt was inspired! Firstly bc Davrin is Weisshaupt, metaphorically (bulwark against the darkness, etc, I already made a post) so it serves his character arc. But also because it strips away the pageantry and the grandeur from them; no more castle for you! No more myth!

Davrin explicitly tells you that the First Warden is a traditionalist; he represents the historical attitudes of the Wardens. They do not accept help, they do not give up their secrets, they are standing alone against the dark. And it doesn’t work! He’s fucking wrong (and very punch-able). Being secretive and isolationist is a mistake that costs them nearly everything.

But also, and I’m not sure how many people experienced this on the first go-around, the game does ultimately come down on the side of the Wardens always trying to do the right thing. You CAN talk the First Warden down, because in the end he’s a Warden, and he might be stubborn and curmudgeonly and miserable but he CARES about the world. He came to do good. He admits he was wrong and he helps you. Because the heart of the Wardens is about selfless service to other people. In Death, Sacrifice.

Stripping away Weisshaupt and the glory and pageantry leaves the Wardens at their most vulnerable and forces them to return to their fundamental principles: helping people. That’s what Lavendel is about. Helping individual people and preserving every life possible even if it doesn’t feel that glamorous or heroic. Lavendel isn’t a significant place; it doesn’t matter, but it matters so much.

And then, the Cauldron.

First off, do not at me about Last Flight. I don’t think people should have to read external materials to play this game and understand it. If the information is vital it should be presented to the player in the text.

The Cauldron is the repository of the Wardens’ secrets; it’s where the keep the bones of the Archdemons, the secret to the Joining, ancient and dangerous weapons, as well as the bodies of the griffons, which represents their most shameful errors. Isseya is the avatar of the Wardens’ mistakes; she’s been hurt by what they made her do, and her pain was never acknowledged by them. They buried her story and her suffering like they bury everything they don’t want to deal with and are ashamed of. They left the bones of the griffons, whose deaths they directly caused, to rot because they were too sad to acknowledge them.

But it was wrong to walk away, it was wrong to bury it. Isseya makes sure that they can never do that again, that they have to own what they did and take responsibility. By discovering who she is and by restoring her personhood to her, by reminding her of her love which drove her to her anguish in the first place, Davrin saves her and he saves the griffons. He doesn’t do it using violence, because another sin of the Wardens is just assuming that they can kill their way out of their problems, which the game disproves by revealing the origin of the Blight. You can kill as many darkspawn as you want, you will never fix it! The Titans’ dreams do not need to be slain, they need to be healed.

Isseya is in so much pain because of her incredible love for both the griffons and the Wardens, and because of her guilt. Look what she builds! An alternate Weisshaupt, a distorted reflection of her home. She entreats both Davrin and Assan to join her, because she doesn’t think she’s trying to destroy anything. She’s trying to save them! She wants them to come home. “I am their mother,” she says, and she’s right. She saved them, then, and she ends up saving them now! Because she made Davrin and the other Wardens look, unflinchingly, at what they had done, it will never happen again. She was going about it wrong during the game, but she was ALWAYS trying to save them.

Davrin, Antoine and Evka represent the Wardens’ commitment to being different. They let Flynn undergo the Joining without becoming a Warden, they reveal secrets to non-Warden Rook, they offer to help the Viper without asking for anything in return. They ask for help and offer it freely. If the Wardens are going to persist into a world without Archdemons, they HAVE to change. They can’t be what they were anymore. The game is asking what a Warden is when they have to be more than their oath, when they have to live. It’s a great exploration of and expansion on previously established lore.

Anyway, my advice if you hated the plot and the game and the characters is to a) make your own post b) don’t bother me about it, because I have the time and I will be loudly positive in response!

[inkdrinkerworld]

can i request a girl flirting with spencer but he is too oblivious to understand she is flirting (bc of course he doesnt) so he keeps talking to her, and reader (they are dating) is FURIOUS and he is sooooo confused. i think it could be funny 🤭

post prison!spencer x sunshine!reader are out with the team when spencer gets sidetracked, you don't like that he is. 1.2k

You’re frowning into your long island iced tea. The entire team can see it and Luke is itching to make a comment. He also knows that despite your sunny disposition you might kick his shin under the table. 

“You could always just go bring him back here,” Matt says, sipping his beer as he watches you burn holes into Spencer’s back. 

You’re not jealous, no matter what any of them might imply. 

“He’s a big boy. If he doesn’t want her flirting with him, he can just leave.” 

JJ laughs into her drink, Penelope rolls her eyes as she chews her cherry and Emily shakes her head at you. 

Spencer likely will remove himself from the girl if he doesn’t want to be flirted with- but since he’s been there for the last twenty minutes you suspect he isn’t as into you as they’ve all suggested. 

It was silly of you to let your heart be captured by a man fresh out of prison you suppose. Your frown worsens at your thoughts, Spencer isn’t the ‘lead a girl on,’ type. Still you feel the hot and heavy sting of jealousy and something bitter settle in your chest. 

“He’s still a bit awkward about this,” You roll your eyes this time. They all talk of Spencer like he’s a thirty three year old virgin. He isn’t. You know he isn’t because Penelope had informed you that he’d been in serious relationships before. 

Not that you’d wanted to know. 

When Spencer comes back, you’re itching for a game of cards and the rest of your team is itching for some sort of reaction from either of you. 

It’s been clear over the ten months you’ve been working at the BAU, that you and Spencer have begun to orbit each other. You’re like Pluto and Charon. You bring each other breakfast, make each other’s coffee, you were even almost halfway in his lap on the jet the other day ‘doing crosswords.’ You really were doing crosswords. 

They suspect you’re both just too oblivious (you) and frightened (Spencer) to do anything about the feelings everyone can see you have. 

“Sorry I took so long,” though he says the words loud enough for the entire group to hear, his eyes are on you. 

“Did you at least get her number?” You kick Luke in the shin then, earning a smirk from the man across from you. Maybe if you put salt in his protein powder he’ll relent. 

“What?” Spencer asks, sipping his rum and coke. He brushes a curl of hair from his forehead, tucking it behind his ear. 

You reach into your bag and pull out your sparkly deck of cards and shuffle them. “Oh are we doing readings?” Penelope asks, you don’t trust the peachiness of her tone. 

“The girl from the bar.” Matt clarifies for Spencer, whose eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. 

“Why would I get her number?” JJ looks at you with a, ‘do you see what we’re saying,’ look but you only shake your head. 

You don’t care if Spencer did get her number or if he’d been flirting back with her. You’re not dating. You don’t care. At least, that’s what you keep telling yourself. 

“She was flirting with you man.” Luke says and Spencer shrugs, leaning into you as Penelope takes the cards from you. They’re only playing cards, but she’s been trying to get you to read them as well as she reads tarot. 

“Are you okay?” Spencer whispers in favour of a reply to Luke, eyebrows knitted together when you shrug him out of your space. 

“Fine.” Emily chuckles which only worsens Spencer’s frown. 

“Hey, what about this song?” JJ says, the entire group dispersing. Penelope is the last to go, leaving the ace of hearts face up on the table. 

“What’s wrong?” Spencer asks, hand reaching for your chin. You shake your head from his hand. Spencer feels burned. 

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine. I’m just enjoying a night out with my friends.” You make it a point to stress the word friends and Spencer almost flinches. 

“I don’t believe you.” he says the words plainly. “Are you upset with me?” You turn to face him then, face stony, an expression on your face Spencer has never seen. Other than that day you were on the phone with your brother. 

“Why would I be upset with you? You’re just the clueless thirty three year old everyone thinks can’t tell when a pretty girl at the bar is flirting with him.” Your words are hushed and low, your eyes dark in the poorly lit booth. 

Spencer sighs, his shoulders reaching his ears before falling. “You’re jealous?” 

You grumble, no point in hiding what is so very clear. “You flirt with me for ten months, and then you spend almost thirty minutes letting a stranger put their hands all over you and come back here like you didn’t know she was flirting? If you just wanted the attention you could’ve said so from the beginning, Spencer Reid.” 

There’s no ‘Doctor,’ before his name that lets him know you’re being playful or funny. No, your words and your expression are the iciest thing he thinks he’s ever witnessed. You sound hurt more than anything and that makes Spencer’s heart crack right down the middle. 

His hand reaches for your chin, turning you to face him. “I didn’t just want attention, you know that,”

You roll your eyes, “Oh do I?” Spencer likes this attitude on you, he can’t even pretend to lie to himself. He just doesn’t like the way you doubt him. 

“I like you. You know I like you. Yes, the woman at the bar was flirting with me, but the conversation was being redirected. She was flirting with me till I told her I wasn’t interested and that I had someone waiting for me.” 

You don’t believe him, “Took you twenty eight minutes to do that?” 

Spencer smiles then, pressing his forehead into yours. “You’re worked up, sweet girl.” The nickname settles you a little. “It took me a little to catch on. I’ll admit it takes some getting used to from total strangers. But I didn’t enjoy her flirting with me if that’s what you’re really asking.”

Spencer’s thumb presses into the slight divot in your chin, your eyes stuck on his as he refuses to break eye contact. “I only want you to flirt with me.” 

Your breath hitches, Spencer smiles. “You let her touch you.” He laughs at how petulant you sound, he knows your grip on your anger is slipping. 

“Am I supposed to push her hands off me?” You nod and Spencer lets his nose run along your jaw. “You’re too much.” 

Spencer doesn’t leave your side the rest of the night.

[yikes-aemond]

I love you. It's ruining my life. (Part IV)

pairing: Benjicot Blackwood x Bracken!fem!reader (no descriptions of reader except that she wears dresses and has long hair)

warnings: canon typical violence, cursing, death 

summary: You and Benjicot Blackwood plan for the future. Things don’t quite go as planned. 

word count: 5.1k 

author note: Thank you all so much for your patience! I will not lie—this part was a struggle to write. I think I rewrote it at least three times, and I am still not sure if I’m absolutely satisfied. Fair warning, I’m putting our lovebirds through the ringer, but do not worry—I’m a girl who loves a happily ever after. Also, no smut in this part, but stick around for part five. Happy reading!

part i can be found here, part ii here, and part iii here.

“Have you lost your mind?” 

You could not have heard him correctly. Surely Benjicot Blackwood had not just asked you to marry him, while you were half naked. 

You hurried to adjust your dress and cover yourself in a desperate attempt to establish some sense of dignity and propriety in this moment. Had you not been overwhelmed by the day, had you not been so taken off guard, you might have responded a little more kindly to a proposal from your beloved.

Benjicot laughed as he watched you try to gather your wits about you. He followed your direction, adjusting his breaches so that everything was tucked back into its proper place.

Once you were both decent, Benjicot reiterated, “I am quite serious. We should marry this evening.”

You shook your head, mind racing as you tried to comprehend what he was saying, what he was asking. For years, you had watched Benjicot from afar. Watched the way he grew into a man, into someone that people feared and respected in equal measure. Being with Benjicot was always your dream. The one you had tucked away in your heart for years, never to see the light of day should you dare to do the most dangerous thing in all of Westeros—hope. 

And now he was asking you to marry him. You felt unbalanced, unsteady. Your head and your heart were at war. 

You managed to get off the bed. Needing a moment to collect yourself, you put some distance between you and Benjicot and moved back across the room to the fireplace. 

When you turned back to Benjicot, you saw that he had not moved. His eyes were fixed on you, that predatory gaze locked onto your form, waiting for your response. 

That look in his eyes never failed to make you squirm. The weight of that stare made you think he could hear every thought in your head, all your secrets and dreams. 

You sighed, breaking eye contact and said, “You know that our families will never allow it.”

Benjicot stood then, and slowly stalked toward you. With each step, you felt your heartbeat pound louder against your chest. You had thought that the longer you spent in his presence, the more you would become used to him. But you could not deny the effect Benjicot had on you, on your body. 

Benjicot took your hands in his, and pulled you against him. Placing your hands on his chest, he rubbed his thumbs over the scrapes you had gotten earlier in the woods. Had that only been this morning? Time seemed to hold no meaning in this room. A prison that now felt like a sanctuary. 

“That is why we must marry tonight.” Benjicot smiled, and then placed a kiss on your brow. “By the time they find out, it will be too late.” 

You pulled back, just enough so that you could look at his face. “And do your really expect your father and Black Aly to welcome me into the family with open arms?” 

Benjicot was still smiling, still so sure of his plan. “They will once they see how happy we are. How much we love each other.” He shrugged before continuing, “And we would not be the first Blackwoods and Brackens to marry. Others have done it in the name of peace.”

“But our families do not seek peace now!” You practically shouted, frustration coloring your tone. “We are on the brink of war, and our families stand on opposite sides.”

You tried pulling away, but Benjicot tightened his arms around you, stilling your struggle. Whatever good humor Benjicot had was slowly leaching from his features. “You know as well as I do that Queen Rhaenyra is the rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms.”

You closed your eyes and took a steadying breath.“Of course I agree with you, but that does not change the fact that my father will disown me if we do this. I will never be able to return home.”

Benjicot pressed another kiss to your temple and whispered against your skin,“Would that be such an awful thing?”

You felt your heart jerk at his question. The idea of never seeing your family again, of never being welcomed home, of never eating your cook’s fruit pies or riding through the moorlands outside of Stone Hedge on a misty morning, or gods never visiting your mother’s gravestone, was enough to send a wave of nausea through you. 

You hid your face against his chest. “My father was not always the most loving, but he is my father. For all the faults you may find with him, he has never been cruel to me.” 

Benjicot felt the shift in your mood, could practically feel the sadness and desperation radiate from the points where you touched. He knew the sacrifice he was asking you to make was no small thing. He rubbed his hands up and down your arms, trying to comfort the turmoil within you. 

You could not stop the tears even if you wanted to. You did not wail, did not scream at the unfairness of your situation, did not rail against the old gods and the new for cursing your families and subjecting them to an endless blood feud. For what else could this ancient, hateful grudge between the Blackwoods and Brackens be except for a curse? 

Even if you could convince your father to bless a marriage between you and Benjicot, any children between you would be enlisted to the war. Generations of prejudice had proven that. It was no matter that the Bracken or Blackwood on the other side would be a cousin. No matter that no one could remember how the hatred between your two families even began. No matter how senseless the bloodshed would be. 

This was your and Benjicot’s world. You could not run from the truth of your situation, could not hide from your fates. Not if you wanted your love to withstand.

And even though the thought of never going back to Stone Hedge was devastating, the thought of never seeing Benjicot again was unthinkable. Never hearing his voice or his laugh. Never seeing his smiles. Never having him hold you in his arms. You could not bear the separation, not after having a taste of what your life could be like together. 

Your tears slowed and your breathing evened out. Whatever doubts that had plagued your mind were banished. Resolution steeled your spine. You took a fortifying breath and lifted your head from Benjicot’s chest. With a watery smile on your face, you said, “I accept your proposal, Benjicot Blackwood.”

Benjicot’s joy was infectious. Smiling wide and bright, he lifted you into his arms and kissed you with such a reverence that left your breathless. Gods, you loved this man. Wanted him again and could not imagine ever being parted from him. The very thought of being separated was enough to send a panic through you. 

You wrapped your arms around Benjicot’s neck and tangled your hands in his hair, your tongue in his mouth. You felt his joy in that kiss. And you let that joy into your heart. Let it fill and warm you. In this moment, you allowed yourself to be happy. 

The impossible dream was becoming a reality. 

When Benjicot had proposed, he did not have an actual plan. He did not have any rings or a marriage cloak. As a Blackwood, he preferred to have a ceremony before the old gods in front of the ancient, colossal weirwood tree in the godswood. 

Because there were no clergy associated with the old gods, the current Lord Blackwood usually performed marriage ceremonies at Raventree Hall. But seeing as his father would likely oppose the marriage, that left Benjicot with few options. With a little convincing, or in Benjicot’s case, a little threat of bodily harm, the maester finally agreed to perform the ceremony. 

You could not stop smiling as Benjicot snuck you out of your rooms. With each passing hallway and corridor, you felt your excitement grow. You could barely contain your glee as you clung to each other, arms linked and hands intertwined, as you made your way into the godswood.  

The maester stood before the weirwood tree, with only the moonlight and a few lanterns to light the way. Hundreds of ravens were to be your witnesses. On any other night, feeling the weight of all those eyes watching you might have felt unsettling. But nothing could spoil this moment, nothing could come between you and Benjicot— 

“What in the Seven Hells do you think you’re doing?” 

Every muscle in your body tensed. Panic settled in your chest, and you felt your stomach drop. 

Black Aly stood at the edge of the godswood, her bow and arrow knocked and poised to strike.  

You felt the world shift. One moment you were standing beside Benjicot, and the next, Benjicot stood in between you and Aly, putting himself in the way of the arrow that had been aimed at your chest. 

“Lower the bow, Aly.” Benjicot’s voice was hard and low. You watched as he moved his hand to the hilt of his dagger, ready to draw the blade at any moment. 

Even from a distance, you could see Aly roll her eyes at Benjicot’s actions, but she did not lower her bow. “Do not overwork yourself, nephew.” 

You grabbed the back of Benjicot’s cloak, pulling slightly as if to hold him back. You glanced wearily back and forth between the Blackwoods. Two warriors preparing to battle. The last thing you wanted was for there to be violence. For surely a duel between Bloody Ben and Black Aly would be a fight for the ages. 

Benjicot’s body was tense as yours. He did not truly believe that Aly would hurt you. Aly was tough but fair, and underneath her brash attitude and hostility, she had a gentle heart. But he would not risk you. Would not allow anyone to threaten or harm you. Not when he had the ability to protect you. 

Benjicot pulled out his dagger. “Put the bow away, Aly. I will not ask again.”

You wanted to step in between them like you had done in the fight with Aeron. But this situation was different. This was two Blackwood who were taking the measure of each other, testing how far the other was willing to go. You could not intervene, even if the sight of an arrow pointed at Benjicot was enough to send your blood running cold. 

After what felt like hours, Aly lowered her bow. Sighing, she returned the arrow to her quiver. Only then did Benjicot sheath his dagger. 

“You sure have a flare for the dramatics, nephew.”

Now it was Benjicot’s turn to roll his eyes. “Says the woman who had an arrow aimed at my betrothed.”

Your heart fluttered at the word. 

Aly huffed out a laugh. “Is that what she is to you? Your betrothed? I do not recall your father agreeing to any such arrangement.” 

Benjicot remained in front of you, a barrier between you and Aly. “I asked for her hand, and she accepted.”

Aly stood with her hands on her hips, eyes directed toward the heavens. She looked as if she were searching for patience amongst the stars. When she cut her gaze back to Benjicot, you could not miss the look of pity that flashed across her face. 

“Benji, you know that you cannot marry her.” 

You reached for Benjicot’s hand, needing his touch and warmth to ground you in this moment. Whatever happiness you had felt, whatever joy that you had shared, was now slowly falling through your grasp. 

Black Aly would never allow you two to marry. Not like this. 

But Benjicot’s stubbornness was no light thing. “I love her, Aly. I will marry her, and you cannot stop me.”

Just as Aly was about to respond, you saw her face pale and expression grow uneasy. And when you heard the voice behind you, you understood why. 

“You would be wise to reconsider that position, son.” 

If you had thought you felt panic before, that was nothing to the sickening feeling that plagued you now. 

Because standing on the opposite side of the godswood, directly across from Aly, was Lord Samwell Blackwood. Benjicot’s father, and your own father’s sworn enemy. And with him stood a dozen Blackwood guards, each looking between you and Benjicot with expressions that ranged from disbelief to disgust. 

You had never been formally introduced to Lord Blackwood. He was a rather tall man, with hair as black as a raven’s wing. His close-cropped beard was the same. Like Benjicot, his gaze was enough to send a lesser man cowering. And right now that gaze was cold and enraged and fixed on you and Benjicot. 

If Benjicot had not been holding your hand, you would have been trembling. The two of you were trapped. 

“Are you so eager to start a war, Benjicot?” Lord Blackwood asked, his tone was like ice. “For some Bracken wench?” 

You felt Benjicot’s hand tighten around yours, almost to the point of pain. One glance at Benjicot told you that he was furious. His glare held that feral edge, and he was close to snarling. Bloody Ben was backed into a corner, and he looked itching for a fight. Even if that fight was against his own father.

“You will mind how you speak about my lady, father.” Had you not been so fearful for your life and his, you would have thought that declaration rather romantic. 

Lord Blackwood did not look impressed. “Do you have any idea what kind of trouble you and your lady have brought to our door, Benjicot?” 

“We wish to marry, father.” Benjicot glanced at you as he said, “We love each other.” 

A long suffering sigh escaped from Lord Blackwood as he motioned for his men to stand down. “That does not change the fact that she is a Bracken. You cannot simply marry her without expecting there to be consequences.”

“I am prepared to accept any consequence if it means we can be together.” The surety in Benjicot’s tone was enough to ease the fear that had gripped you since you had been discovered. You could help but give him a small smile. 

A smile that Lord Blackwood did not miss. “And you, Lady Bracken?” Lord Blackwood sneered. “Are you prepared to face the consequences of this marriage? Your father will seek retribution for this little act of rebellion. Are you prepared to have blood on your hands?” 

Now you were the one who squeezed Benjicot’s hand. Lord Blackwood terrified you, and so did his words. You did not wish to be the cause of another fight between the Blackwoods and the Brackens, did not want to send anyone to their death because you fell in love with someone who was never meant to be yours. 

Benjicot nudged his shoulder against yours, offering you what strength he could. With him standing at your side, you found the courage to meet Lord Blackwood’s gaze. “Whatever trials and tribulations may come our way, Lord Blackwood, I am prepared to meet them with Benjicot as my lord husband.” 

Even without looking at him, you could feel Benjicot’s eyes on you as you held your own against his father. Could feel how proud he was of you for defending your future together. 

Taking another breathe, you could not help but add, “You speak of my hands becoming bloody,  but I could not think of anything more fitting for a woman betrothed to Bloody Ben Blackwood.” 

The silence in the godswood was deafening. 

Every person and creature seemed to be holding their breath for Lord Blackwood’s response. You did not dare break eye contact with him, determined to hold your ground and prove yourself worthy of being Benjicot’s wife. 

Lord Blackwood finally moved his gaze from you and back to Benjicot. “We will treat with Lord Bracken tomorrow. Offer him a parley. You will ask his permission to marry his daughter. You will accept his decision, no matter what he says.” 

“Father! You know he will not—”

But Lord Blackwood had heard enough. Holding up his hand, he demanded silence. “Those are my terms, Benjicot. Be grateful I am allowing this much.” 

A weariness had settled over Lord Blackwood’s features. Although he was still a man in his prime, in that moment, he looked aged and tired. As he turned to leave the godswood, he said, “We stand on the brink of war. The Targaryens are at each other’s throats since King Viserys passed. Soon House Blackwood will be asked to choose a side, and you have allowed your foolish heart to guide your choices.” 

You could tell Benjicot wanted to protest, wanted to push back on his father’s orders. He knew as well as you did that convincing your father to allow the two of you to marry was going to take an act of the gods. 

And even though Benjicot knew when to pick his battles, knew when he had lost a fight, he could not help but have the last word. “There are worse things to be guided by than one’s heart, father.” 

Benjicot’s words gave Lord Blackwood pause. For a moment, you thought he might respond, might reprimand Benjicot for his lack of respect. Only when Lord Blackwood continued walking out of the godswood did you feel like you could breathe again. 

The Blackwood guards followed their ledge lord, leaving you, Benjicot, and Aly in the presence of the ravens. You could have collapsed from exhaustion. You felt wrung out from the day. Too much had happened in such a short period of time, and your body was protesting. 

Aly approached and stopped just short of you and Benjicot. “Well, that did not quite go as I expected.”

Benjicot rounded on Aly, and with animosity in his voice, he asked, “Why did you stop us?”

Aly stared at Benjicot like he had grown a second head. “We’re trying to prevent a war, Benji. Had the two of you married, Bracken would have shown up here with a thousand men seeking your head. You might love each other, but is that love really worth the lives of hundreds? Thousands?” 

“You are overreacting—”

Aly shoved at Benjicot’s chest. “And you are being an idiot! Use your head, Benji. If you had married in secret, the Brackens would have stopped at nothing to avenge that insult. You know that, even if you are too blind to see it.” 

With a softer tone, Aly continued, “Be grateful your father is supporting you in this. He could have just as easily returned her to Stone Hedge. You have a chance.”

Benjicot scoffed. “A chance? Do you really believe—”

“Enough.” You cut Benjicot off before he could say another word. You took his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you. “My father may hate Blackwoods, but he is not unreasonable. We will convince him.” 

You could tell that Benjicot was struggling to control his temper. He was still running hot from the confrontation with Aly and his father. Bloody Ben was lingering too close to the surface. You pulled his face toward yours and pressed a kiss to his lips. Nothing more than a gentle peck, but enough to distract him. 

When you pulled back, you could see that some of the edge had worn off. Benjicot’s face was calmer, less hostile. “I love you, Benjicot Blackwood. I do not plan to give you up without a fight.” 

Benjicot smiled at your words, the soft smile he reserved just for you. He wrapped his arms around you, tucking you under his chin. “My brave girl. I pity any man who would dare cross you.”

You held each other for a moment before Aly cleared her throat. “If you two are finished, I’m going to escort little Bracken back to her rooms.” 

With a quick kiss to your head, Benjicot released you and said, “Sleep well, my lady.” 

You did not want to leave Benjicot, but you knew there was no way Aly was going to let you stay with each other. As you followed her out of the godswood, you could not help but take one last look at Benjicot. 

You nearly stumbled when you saw him. Beneath the ancient weirwood tree, bathed in moonlight and surrounded by ravens, stood Benjicot. His head bowed as if in prayer. 

You did not have to guess what he was praying about. You only hoped that the old gods were listening. 

The only neutral territory acceptable to both the Blackwoods and the Brackens were the boundary stones near the old windmill. The day was overcast and cold, with the wind tearing through the cloak Aly had lent you.

Aly had not left your side since collecting you from your rooms that morning. You and Benjicot had been kept separated for the entire journey. You had asked for him, begged Aly to allow you two a moment alone, but she had refused. Lord Blackwood was keeping both she and Benjicot on a tight leash until this matter was settled. 

To say you were nervous was an understatement. You had tossed and turned the entire night, too anxious to close your eyes for fear of what your dreams may hold. You might have been confident with Benjicot the night before, but in truth, you had no idea how to convince your father to allow you to marry. 

The Brackens had arrived first. 

A host of about fifty men had gathered on their side of the boundary stones. A sea of red and gold with a few horses scattered in the mix. You did not miss how all the men were armed with swords at the ready. 

And in the front, seated atop his favorite war horse and adorned in battle leathers, was Amos Bracken. Your father.  

Amos Bracken was not as tall or built as Samwell Blackwood, but you knew your father to be a proficient swordsmen and respected fighter in his own right. You had no doubt that should this come to blows, he would hold his own. 

Aeron stood beside him. A united front against their perceived enemies. And while your father’s face was blank of all emotions, calm and controlled, Aeron’s disdain for the Blackwoods was clear for all to see. 

The Blackwood host equalled that of the Brackens’. You had ridden to the neutral ground on the back of Aly’s horse. You had tried to spot Benjicot all morning, but there were too many men, too much chaos. The closer you got to the boundary stones, the more you felt Aly tense in front of you. 

When you finally stopped, Aly directed you to the front of the vanguard. She had drawn her bow the moment your feet hit the ground. 

Your first sight of Benjicot sent your heart thumping. His dark hair was mussed, as if he had run his hand through it multiple times. But that was the only sign that Benjicot felt uneasy. His posture was relaxed, and his mouth was fixed in a smirk, like this meeting was an every day occurrence. He showed no fear. 

Aly stopped you slightly behind and to the right of Benjicot. You saw the moment when your father and Aeron spotted you. Your father’s eyes narrowed slightly, and Aeron’s face twisted into a mix of shock and disbelief. 

You swallowed down the fear and anxiety. Swallowed down the nausea that threatened to upend your breakfast. Swallowed down any uncertainty you felt. You had to present a strong front to your father and his men. Otherwise, they would pounce on any hesitation and demand that you be returned home. 

Lord Blackwood broke the silence first. “Amos. A pleasure as always.”

“Cut the shit, Blackwood,” Lord Bracken snarled, “and return my daughter to me.” 

The words were not unexpected. You tensed as Aeron shifted his hand to the sword at his side, stomach twisting as he gripped the hilt. 

You exhaled a long breath and fixed your gaze on your father. “I am well, father. The Blackwoods have treated me kindly.”

Lord Bracken’s face darkened, and you instantly regretted speaking. “I do not want to hear a single word from you.”

Your cheeks flamed at the dismissal, but you refused to lower your eyes. Refused to cower before your family. “Then I am sorry to disappoint you, father.”

“You insubordinate, ungrateful—”

“Lord Bracken,” Benjicot interjected, stopping your father from insulting you further. “I am here to ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage.”

You did not so much as breathe as you waited for your father to respond. 

And waited. 

And waited. 

The longer you waited, the more panic seeped into your veins. But when your father finally responded, you wished that he had not. 

With a sneer on his face, your father glared at Benjicot when he said, “I would sooner feed my daughter to one of those Targaryen dragons before marrying her to some Blackwood cunt.” 

You had felt like someone had knocked the air from your lungs. You had never seen such hatred on your father’s face. Had never heard his voice sound so cold and cruel. You knew that he hated the Blackwoods, but to sentence you to death rather than let you marry? 

You looked at your father like he was a stranger. 

You heard angry shouts and curses behind you from the Blackwood host. Felt that the bloodlust in the air had upped a notch. 

Lord Blackwood held up a hand to silence his men. “Careful, Bracken.” 

“My daughter was taken by your son. Subjected to gods knows what. I will not be careful, Blackwood.” 

“That’s not true, father!” You shouted, launching yourself to stand before your father. You had to find some way to convince him, some way to get him to listen. “Benjicot and I are in love. Please, just listen to us.” 

Your father scoffed. “Love? Between a Bracken and a Blackwood? Do not make me laugh.” 

The Bracken host jeered at your father’s word, laughing and snickering at the very idea of you and Benjicot being together. You even heard a man call out, “Blackwood whore!” 

You did not see Benjicot move. Did not see him reach for the dagger at his hip. Did not see him launch the blade into the air. 

But you could not miss the dagger embedding itself into the man’s throat. Could not miss the splattering of blood or the final wheeze of breath the man took before falling to the ground. Dead in the blink of an eye. 

A scream tore from your throat. You whipped around to look at Benjicot and found Bloody Ben instead. His eyes held that crazed, feral look, but there was no smirk.

Every Blackwood and Bracken standing in that field un-sheathed their weapons. 

“You may insult me all you wish, Bracken!” Benjicot called out, moving forward. “Call me a cunt. Call me craven. I do not care.” He stopped next to you and took your hand. "But I will cut down any man who dares to say such vile insults to my lady. Of that, I promise you.”

Your father did not look pleased by that declaration. If anything, he looked more enraged than before. “You violate the terms of this parley, Blackwood. You have spilled Bracken blood. I have the right to demand your head. But I will settle for the return of my daughter. Now.” 

You were close to tears. Nothing you or Benjicot said moved your father. He was determined to hold onto his hatred, to see the Blackwoods in the worst possible light. But you could not give up—you had to try. 

“Father, please,” your voice broke at the words, “I know that the feud between our families has lasted for a millennium. I know that the thought of a Blackwood and Bracken being together, of loving one another, is inconceivable to you. I know that this is not the life you wished for me. But I have lovedBenjicot since I was a girl.” You took a quick glance at Benjicot to give you strength. “And he loves me. I humbly ask you to grant our union.” 

Your father refused to look at you. Refused to acknowledge your words or pleas. You clutched Benjicot’s hand tighter. For you knew what was coming. Knew that your father was about to crush whatever hope you still held onto. 

Ignoring you and Benjicot as if you were insignificant, he directed his words to Lord Blackwood, “I do not give my blessing to this marriage. Return my daughter to me or we will have war.” 

Your vision swam and your ears began ringing. Somewhere in the distance you heard Lord Blackwood sigh and give the command. Your hand was ripped from Benjicot’s, by whom you did not know. You felt as if the entire world had spun off its axis. How had everything gone so wrong? 

One moment, you were standing next to Benjicot, his warm hand against yours, and then in the blink of an eye, you were on the other side of the boundary stones, with Aeron leading you away.

You felt as if you were disconnected from your body. Aeron’s arms were around you, guiding you. You were vaguely aware that he was trying to say something, speak to you about what had happened. But you felt nothing. Heard nothing. A numbness had settled over you. 

Only when you heard Benjicot call out your name did you snap. 

You shoved against Aeron, tried to run back across the boundary stones to Blackwood land, back to your love, but Aeron held firm. You struggled against him, screaming and hitting and kicking, but your strength was no match for his. 

You looked across the field to see Benjicot being held back by three men. He was snarling and raging, but the men held firm and forced him to his knees. You watched as Aly tried to speak to him, tried to calm him down. 

But there was no calming Bloody Ben. Not now. Not when his lady had been taken from him. 

When Benjicot saw that you were watching him, saw that you were struggling against your own constraints, he stopped. His eyes were wild and fierce and held the promise of retribution. With laboring breaths Benjicot shouted across the field, “I will come you for you, my lady!” He vowed. “I will always come for you!” 

You sobbed at his words. Sobbed for the happiness and hope that you had felt only hours before. Sobbed for the future you might have shared together.

For the second time, you were forced to leave Benjicot behind in this accursed field. Only this time, the heartbreak was so much worse. You had gotten a taste of the impossible dream, gotten so close to getting everything you wanted.

Your dream had become a nightmare. 

final author note: I know! I know! We have to suffer before things get better. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated. Love you babes xx

taglist:

@painted-flag @majoso12

@strollthroughstars29 @a-whiterose

@rebeccawinters @alifeinspiredd

@klutzylaena @poppyflower-22

@iliterallyhavenoideawhattowrite @justannadahfanfictor

@aaaaslaaaan @hobis-hope95

@username199945 @daddyslittlevillain

@flusteredmoonn @nixtape-foryou @prettykinkysoul

@crownofdecitreadingrespectfully

@someblessedgal @devildelilah

@reallyweridgirl @majocookie

@mack-devereaux @maximizedrhythms

@silverwingxox @credulouskhaleesi @poemfreak306

@atomicshepherdalmondpizza

@jevoislavieenrouge

[insidekatmind]

Resistance~Hwang in-ho

Request: yes!

The room was enveloped in an almost oppressive silence, the sound of the participants’ breathing filling the air. Every bunk was occupied, except for one, that of Hwang In-ho, better known as Frontman. As player number 001, he had earned everyone’s trust, managing to manipulate his fellow players’ minds without anyone ever suspecting him. But there was one person who didn’t fall for his charm, who wasn’t fooled by his sweet words and calculated moves: you.

After the team game, in which many had lost their lives, you found yourself in the room, lying on your bunk, staring silently at the empty top bunk. The thought of what had just happened tormented you, but there was also something you couldn’t explain. You couldn’t understand how you were the only one who realized something was off with Frontman.

The others avoided you, not wanting to hear your theories. They still believed he was just another man, someone who had been lucky enough to survive the first game, someone who wouldn’t hurt anyone. But you, with a clarity that seemed out of place in such a context, had noticed too much.

And just as you were reflecting, the door to the room opened, breaking the silence as Frontman entered with his confident stride, as if he were at home. His presence exuded an unsettling calm, yet there was something in his eyes that betrayed his interest in you. He knew you were the only one who didn’t bend to his will. And for him, that was a challenge he couldn’t ignore.

He approached your bunk and stopped right in front of you. His voice, soft but firm, resonated in the air. "You know, it’s not easy being the only one to see the world for what it is. Most prefer to close their eyes and follow the current. But you… you’re different."

You stayed silent, still looking up. You could feel his attention on you, but you weren’t about to give in."It’s not about being different. It’s about seeing beyond appearances."

Frontman smiled slightly, as if he had finally found someone worth talking to. Then he sat on the bunk next to yours, gazing at you with a penetrating look."You have an interesting intuition. But you’re wrong if you think I’m like the others. I’m not here to play by the rules, those rules you’re trying to follow."

"And I don’t want to play this game anymore. I’ve seen too many things I don’t like. And you, Frontman, are one of those things." You said.

His smile widened, but not in anger. Instead, he seemed pleased, as though he had finally found someone who wasn’t easily swayed by his power. "You never should have come. But now that you’re here, you have the chance to understand what it really means to be here, in this game."

There was a long silence between us, where neither of us spoke, but we both understood we were operating on different levels. You were the only one who wouldn’t be manipulated, but he wasn’t going to let you slip away so easily.

"Why don’t you stay with me? We could be powerful together. I can give you what you want, what the others will never give you." In-ho said.

You knew exactly what he was trying to do. He was offering you power, an escape that sounded too tempting to be true. But you would never give in. Your resistance intrigued him more and more, and every attempt he made to get closer made the anger inside you grow, something you couldn’t ignore anymore.

"There’s nothing you can offer me that’s worth it. These games are your prison, and in the end, you’ll be trapped just like the others." you replied

In ho raised an eyebrow, visibly amused by your response. His smile was enigmatic, as though he was reflecting on something deeper."We’ll see how long you last. In the end, you’ll understand there’s no way out. You either bend, or you perish."

His gaze grew more intense, as though he wanted to engrave every word in my mind. But I wasn’t afraid. I wouldn’t give in.

And so, the tension between us remained suspended, like a tight rope ready to snap. I knew this was just the beginning.

[donutz]

Hey!

So I have an idea for Sebs.. what if you did (assuming you do small fics or Headcannons) Sebs feeling really down for whatever reason (could be because of his past n how he got experimented on and stuff) and he could be having nightmares or stuff and g/n reader tries to comfort him??

Sebastian getting comforted headcanons

Sebastian's jumpy and outbursting behavior doesn't go uncomforted!

— Spooky Urbanshade nightmares😱😱 Also don't worry, I LOVE doing headcanons😛

Warnings: Nightmares; Outbursts; 'Bad' words☹️; Sebastian knows Reader, they are very acquainted with each other; Very big trust between Reader and Sebastian, like A LOT; This is like a mix of headcanons and a fic; Crying; Headcanons for Z-13 and Sebastian

Visiting Sebastian once again, you get greeted with silence. You stood up dusting off your knees.

“Uhh, you good”?

He snaps out of his thoughts, unnoticeably flinching. To other people it would be hard to notice, but you did. Your eyebrows rose at that.

 “Uhm yes— My name is Sebastian”.

“... Yea I know”.

Sebastian realizes that it was you! Not some other prisoner. Oops.

“O-Oh! It’s you”...

“Mhm”.

That encounter kind of put you on the edge. Being more aware of Sebastian, especially how he’s feeling. He was very jumpy. At times seeming even pissed that you came to see him.

Before the negative behavior, he cracked jokes every time he knew you were there. Sometimes even sending over flirty(sounding) comments.

He seems out of it.

The more times he visited, the more hints he gave you that something was going on. His stutters, him grabbing his clothing or hair, staring off into oblivion.

Maybe you should talk to him. Or get him to open up. Does he even trust you that much?

Talk to him.

TALK to him.

TALK TO HIM.

“Hey Sebastian”?

Again, snapping out of his daze, he sweeps away a part of his side bangs. His two upper hands cupping each other, sweating? His other hand gripped the bottom of his jacket.

“Uh— Yes”..?

.

.

.

“Are you okay”?

Sebastian’s right claw grips his left claw even harder. His right claw scratched the backside of his left, leaving beads of blood to slowly appear.

His body stiffs, biting his inner lip. Eyes widening. A light shiver.

Silence.

A scowl grows on his face, looking away from you.

“Yes I’m just fine”.

He looks down, noticing his bleeding left claw.

He blinks rapidly, physically taken aback by what he’d done to his hand. He coughs into his arm from shock. He didn’t even notice.

… Do you really affect him that much?

He’s used to feel hurt, pain. Not comfort.

He hasn’t felt that in a long time. Comfort. From a human.

Looking back at his hand, he shakes. Shaky gasps, a shaking body, and shocking thoughts.

Don’t shake. Not in front of a human.

Don’t—

Don’t do that.

Don’t say it.

“Actually I’m—” Sigh

…

“I’m not okay”.

Z-13

He’s very surprised and somewhat disappointed in himself that he could trust a human this much

It takes 5 minutes of sitting in silence for him to open up

Just a test… Yes just a test to see if you’ll stay

That you won’t leave.

…

When he starts to speak, it comes out shaky, as if he wants to cry, you’ll have to get him to REALLY open up if you want that

It’s hard to express your feelings, especially when you’re so traumatized

He wouldn’t initiate physical affection first, you’d have to

He doesn’t want to seem weak

Right?

Opening up, he talks about these nightmares, remembering the feeling of those experiments

The shots, not of anesthesia, of DNA.

He needed to be awake during it all.

He’s surprised he was even alive after.

The painful days of morphing, the extra eye, his bulb, it all hurt.

Okay okay I’ll try to tone it down.

Instead of crying(In front of you) he throws his head into his hands, his third arm resting on the connected piece of his tail and his torso

You can hear his little gasps, and eventually gently hold his claws, slowly separating them from his face

He’s still looking down

You look down too, seeing his tears laying on his scales.

Looking back at him, you reassure—

“You can cry in front of me Sebastian, it’s okay”.

Placing his claws on his tail, you open up your arms.

“You want a hug”?

He looks back up at you letting out a lightly audible gasp, quickly pulling you into a hug, his claws nearly the size of your torso

‘Oh wow’.

He crosses claws over, so his arms are right up against your back. With his head laying on your shoulder.

He didn’t even know he could cry anymore.

Or sweat.

… Maybe he’s still a human?

You hug him back of course, your arms going under his top ones, rubbing his back.

He wraps his tail around the both of you, pulling you closer, letting you feel his cold breath.

After a few minutes you slowly sit down, because of his weight and having to stand up.

Sebastian slowly lets go, catching you off guard.

“Oh you don’t have to let go! We can—”

“No it’s fine, I actually just don’t want a hug anymore”.

“Oh”

“And my back hurts so yeah”.

He continues to talk about the pain, trauma, with his hands rubbing against each other

His palms are sweaty, somehow

You notice the blood on the back of his hand, and act out while listening. You take a medkit you bought while nodding, saying that you’re hearing his words.

He pauses.

“You— You’re gonna—”

“Heal you? Yeah, I’m still listening though”.

He continues to speak, really hoping that you’re actually listening

By the end of ‘spilling out his feelings’, his hand is bandaged, twinning with his third arm

A weight is off his back and he feels relieved

He really appreciates your comforting words, even the ones that weren’t comfort and showing that you were listening

He thinks it’s a miracle that he could’ve ever met a human like you

You’re special in his eyes

He might tear up again, not full on cry, but just dripping tears down his face

You’ll probably both end up sleeping on top of each other, somehow your gear not detonating, maybe it’s because of that scrambler on his back

Sebastian Solace

You wake up in the middle of the night, seeing Sebastian right across you.

He’s sweating, a lot.

You raise an eyebrow, wondering how he’s so sweaty.

Sebastian wakes up abruptly from your light tap, using his arms to pick himself up, scaring the hell out of you.

“AH”!

You flinch, really hard. It’s silent until you break it.

“You good?” You laugh

After realizing that nothing is going on, he lets his face fall back into his pillow while his arms go limp.

“Yeah,” He groans

…

“No, not really”.

You manage to soften him up a bit, to where he’s sitting in your lap, taller or not he’s still sitting there(He's 5'10)

He rests his head on top of yours, sighing

“You wanna talk now”?

“... Yeah”.

He speaks his mind, talking about having these dreams of being experimented on

But in very vague detail, as if this has happened

Or going to happen.

“And it scares me.. W- What if it actually happens”?!

“If you got framed for murder then I would become your own personal lawyer”.

“I’M SERIOUS”!

“So am I. If it happens I will search for you until the end of time, Solace”.

He looks at you, backing up from you, adjusting himself so he could directly look at you

How did he get so lucky

He hugs you as you lightly rock him side to side

“... I’m not a baby y’know”.

“Yea but I would think you’d want to be babied, Sebastian”.

You felt him get physically hotter from that

After a good 5-10 minutes of rocking, you hear small snores, saying that he’s asleep

You also feel small wet spots on your shoulder, damn, this really affected him huh?

You both laid back down, moving onto your sides as he cuddles up into your chest

He’s never really done this before

On nights like this he feels pretty vulnerable, and would really appreciate being the small spoon

But will NOT tell anybody

Not like he could

Small circles being rubbed on his back, sweet words, a few kisses and you got him wrapped around your finger

He likes to listen to your heartbeat, it shows that you’re alive, and a person

He can be really soft

ONLY at home

Now his nightmares are like losing you or something

A nice shower the morning after would be nice

I’d like to think that Sebastian isn’t really 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂, so he’s pretty chill and just hugging you from behind, his head on your shoulder

Of course, his lower half having some space from your bottom

“You want me to wash you too”? You joke

“... That wouldn’t be that bad actually." He 'jokes'.

He probably enjoys bath bombs, but doesn’t want to get in them

It might dye his weiner or something

He’d want to stay in bed the whole morning

By the way, Sebastian canonly has this big scar across his face, over his nose, just wanted to tell you

I hope I didn't make him seem like an uwu boi that needs protection☹️

[quarterlifekitty]

Okay listen all I’m saying is hiring the boys as a bodyguard. Not because you actually need guarding, but because you have the money and you’re lonely, damn it!

Besides, if you happen to admire them while they do their jobs, no harm, no foul, right? And maybe you cook them extra food. Maybe you put on music they like while you drive. Maybe you treat them with a little more affection than strictly necessary.

It’s okay though! They work hard, they deserve to relax! And maybe relaxing includes staring a little too long when you dress more scandalously than usual. Maybe, just maybe, they relax by stroking themselves to thoughts of you alone in their rooms.

I’m so sorry I just need big meaty men who are so pathetic for the soft little thing that hired them.

Okay you can ignore this part but I just came across your blog and I’m fucking feral for your writing, especially depraved Simon and pathetic König. I’m biting your thighs and kissing your shoulders.

Honestly. This is a few shade darker than what you said. So. Sorry. Also biting my thighs and kissing my shoulders you say?????? 😳

But I can see Ghost in a sort of Mike Ehrmantraut type of role. Discharged from special forces for a sustained injury, but he can still fight and kill with the best. In fact, his blood itches inside of his veins when he doesn’t. So he takes up private security jobs. Not with any company or so called respected association, just on his own, completely freelance.

You hire him for security on something not entirely legal. You hire a couple other guys, but Ghost is pretty sure they’re all bark and no bite. He’s able to disarm and knock them on their backs in record time. “Still think this is gonna be a three-man job, birdie?”

So it’s just him and you. And you’re paranoid, he can tell. Whatever business you’re engaged in right now is something you fell into and are utterly terrified to leave. He sees the men you meet with looking at you with such predatory eyes, like prison guards waiting for you to make a break for it so they have an excuse to take you down. There was clearly someone in this position before him. Maybe they left, or maybe they’re the ones that paid the price for you trying to run out.

It’s clear to Simon that your relationship with whoever used to occupy this seat next to you in the car was more than professional. You don’t cook meals and bake treats for hired muscle. You don’t ask them to tell you what music they like for the car rides. And normally, the hired muscle doesn’t stick around so much. Doesn’t stay in your house unpaid. Doesn’t worry so much about the frayed nerves of his client. Doesn’t insist on standing by the door when you’re changing. Doesn’t spend his night turning over your predicament in his head and trying to untangle it.

If the last guy left, he can see why. You’re a bad investment. You don’t ask for more, but you’re the type that makes a man like him want to give and give until there’s nothing left. Truly, the most dangerous thing in the world is a bird that makes a man feel powerful through no intention of her own.

If the last guy died for you, he can see why.

Sometimes Simon sits on your bed until you fall asleep. It takes a while. You spend so many hours feeling vulnerable, like you’re going to be shoved into a bottomless pit if you don’t keep your eyes wide open and your skin prickled.

He takes his glove off to stroke your cheek. And that’s when he realizes that he’s never been one for untangling messes like these.

He’s the type of man who grabs the scissors.

[modawg]

it’s so sad to me that nico like never learned how much percy tried to help him yk

like percy literally rounded up his closest friends after being the only one to find out nico was the son of hades and decided to at least try to give nico a chance to live his life when the kid literally just tried to kill him, his sister just died, and through everything percy knows hates his guts - like he took all that info and decided to make a suicide pack with his closest friends in order to protect nico when giving nico the prophecy would’ve been the most logical and honestly understandable thing to do

like genuinely do ppl realise how EASY it would’ve been to just give the prophecy to nico his ONLY living relative (other than hades) just DIED they could’ve been like “listen you take this prophecy give it 6 years you’ll be dead with your sister and literally everyone else you know and you’ll be a hero for it” instead even though percy has an entire life, people who love and care for him, and a future wife infront of him he takes it upon himself to DIE in 3-4 years how fucking BONKERS is that

he also almost abandons a WHOLE OTHER QUEST putting himself and annabeth in danger just bc dumbass nico is out doing god knows what in the labyrinth and ends up getting caught (he was doing smth i’m being dramatic but still)

could you imagine being percy your going to war (and from your perspective you’re going to die in the next week or so after methodically doing everything in your power to keep this other random kid who you think hates you from suffering that fate) that kid comes up to you with a plan so you trust him just do be stabbed in the back bc that kids father wants him to be the prophecy child even tho you’ve been mentally preparing yourself to die for the past like 3 years?? id jump that kid too if he randomly came into my deep dark prison cell trying to break me out and then shun him after all that

like i read the way nico talks abt percy and he just seems bitter all the time he’s like “psh percy and his fake friendship what a dweeb can’t believe i had a crush on THAT guy🙄” like you’d be dead if it wasn’t for his friendship gay boy

i want like 5 years into the future annabeth is sitting with nico one day and is like “lol yeah i remember that one time percy made us all pinky promise to keep you safe and we all thought he was dumb bc you hated him sm but he really just wanted you to have a good life and now look at you!! :)” and nico to slow turn to her “…what”

like to this day i get that nico was mad at percy for not protecting bianca and bc of his internalized homophobia or whatever but why not hate on the actual people who sent her on that quest rather than a random kid you just met who said he’d try WHICH HE ACTUALLY DID DO and not idk literally any adult figure who sent her into the fire to begin with

i just want nico to realise that percy is simply just a boy who literally wanted nothing to do with any of this and was trying his best to free nico of that same burden sigh (;_;)

like those two are the fattest example of a miscommunication held together by misunderstood betrayal

disclaimer this is obv dramatic and the prophecy definitely doesn’t work like that but like think abt it ok

[kyleoreillylover]

Hell is Easier with You

Michael Scofield x Fem!Black!Reader

Summary: You get hurt while exploring in the vents, and Michael has to take hurt you in order to take care of you. But you realize going through hell is easier with him by your side.

a/n: writing for other things than the wwe now, but lemme know if you also wanna be tagged in those!!

warnings: burn, injury, etc.

The plan was in motion. Every minute, every breath in this cell felt like it was ticking down the clock to Lincoln's execution. It was getting tighter, the pressure, the weight on your shoulders. You and Michael were locked in your cell, side by side. Silent, focused, but there was always that unspoken connection between you both—a bond that ran deeper than the walls around you.

He trusted you, and you trusted him. That’s why when he couldn’t check out the vents himself, you stepped up. There wasn’t time for hesitation, not with Lincoln's life on the line. But you didn’t expect the guards to be in the vents tonight.

Moving silently through the dim light of the prison, you crawled through the tight, suffocating space. It was hot, sweltering, but you had no choice but to push through. You were almost out when you heard the low mutter of voices—guards. You froze, heart pounding, palms sweaty, as they came closer.

Shit.

Your mind raced, body tensing, as you leaned too far into the hot metal pipes lining the vent, trying to avoid being seen. Pain shot through your body as the heat scorched your side.

The smell of burning fabric and flesh hit you instantly, but you bit your lip hard, refusing to scream, refusing to make a sound. Every instinct was telling you to cry out, but you swallowed it down, jaw clenched, eyes watering as you leaned away from the searing metal.

You couldn’t be discovered. Not here. Not now. Not when everything was so close to falling apart. So you gritted your teeth, forced yourself to crawl back, every movement agony, and made your way back to the hole that led into the cell.

When you slipped back into the small space you shared with Michael, the pain was excruciating, but you tried to steady your breath. You couldn’t fall apart now. You didn’t want to worry him—not when he already carried so much.

But as soon as Michael returned, one look at you and he knew something was wrong. He stepped closer, his eyes scanning your face with that familiar intensity, always so aware, always so protective.

"Are you okay?" he asked, voice low but firm. His gaze dropped to the side of your shirt, and he noticed the fabric stuck to your skin, the charred mark spreading across your side.

You flinched under his scrutiny, trying to brush it off. "It's fine. I just—it's nothing, Michael."

But it wasn’t nothing, and he knew it.

“Let me see,” he said, his voice leaving no room for argument. He gently lifted the side of your shirt, wincing when he saw the burn beneath it. His fingers hovered over the edge of the fabric, the torn and melted fabric clinging to your skin.

You tried to pull back, knowing what came next. "Michael, I’m fine—"

“You’re not fine,” he cut you off, his voice still low, but now laced with that familiar edge of concern. He was already moving, grabbing the sheet from the bunk and hanging it up across the cell for privacy. There was no one he trusted, no one allowed to see you like this except him.

“Michael, please—don’t," you whispered, the panic rising in your voice as you realized what he had to do. The pain was overwhelming now, the thought of peeling the fabric from your burned skin enough to make you feel lightheaded. "Just leave it. I’ll handle it."

But Michael knelt down in front of you, calm and steady. “I have to, okay? I need to get this off before it gets worse." He reached for you, pulling you gently into his lap, his arms wrapping around you with a quiet strength. "I’ll be as careful as I can. I promise.”

Tears blurred your vision, the burn throbbing with every heartbeat, but you couldn’t fight him on this. He was right. The fabric had to come off, no matter how much it hurt. And God, it was going to hurt.

He shifted you slightly, making sure your chest was pressed firmly against his, his arms wrapping around your waist to hold you in place. “Breathe, okay? Just breathe. I’ve got you.”

You nodded, though your body tensed in anticipation, your heart pounding so hard you thought it might burst from your chest. Michael’s hand moved to your side, fingers brushing against the edge of the burn. You jerked, the pain sharp, and he tightened his grip on you.

“Shhh,” he whispered softly, his breath warm against your ear. “I know it hurts, but I need you to hold still. Lean into me. I’m right here.”

You buried your face into his shoulder, every muscle in your body trembling as he slowly, carefully began to peel the fabric away from your skin. The pain was unbearable, a burning, searing agony that had you digging your nails into his arm, desperate for some kind of anchor.

A scream bubbled up in your throat, but you couldn’t let it out—not here, not with the guards so close. So you bit down on Michael’s shirt instead, muffling the sound as much as you could, tears streaming down your face.

“It’s okay,” Michael murmured, his voice a steady hum in your ear as he worked. “You’re doing great. Just a little more, I’m almost done. Stay with me.”

You were breathing hard now, your vision swimming as the pain made your head feel light.

"Stay with me," Michael repeated quickly, sensing the shift. He tipped your chin up gently, making you meet his gaze. "Don’t faint on me. Look at me, baby. Look at my eyes."

Your chest heaved as you fought to stay conscious, your gaze locking onto his. You focused on the cool, steady blue of his eyes, the way they always seemed to hold the weight of the world but still found room for you.

"I’m right here," Michael whispered, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "Just stay with me. You love my eyes, remember?"

Despite the pain, you gave a shaky laugh, but it ended in a choked sob as Michael gave the shirt one final rip, peeling it free from your burns.

You cried out, thrashing as the sharp agony ripped through you as you collapsed onto Michael even more than you already were. Michael caught you immediately, pulling you  further into his lap and wrapping his arms around you as tightly as he dared.

"It’s over," he whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple. "It’s done. I’ve got you."

You clung to him, your body trembling from the aftermath of pain and exhaustion. Michael’s hand stroked up and down your back, his touch as light as possible, offering comfort in the only way he knew how.

"You did so good," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I’m so proud of you."

You nuzzled into the crook of his neck, letting his steady heartbeat calm the frantic rhythm of your own. His arms felt like the safest place in the world, and for a moment, you let yourself forget the sting of the burns, the suffocating walls of the prison, and everything else except the feel of Michael holding you.

"You need to go to the infirmary," Michael said softly, though you could tell he didn’t want to let you go.

You groaned, not wanting to face the questions that would come with the injuries. "What are we even gonna say?"

Michael gave you a small, reassuring smile, though his eyes betrayed his worry. "Don’t worry about that. I’ll take care of it." 

His fingers brushed lightly over your hair, and he kissed the top of your head, lingering for a moment. "For now, just stay with me."

You shifted slightly, still aching but comforted by the way Michael held you so protectively. He rested his chin on your head, his arms never loosening their hold on you.

"You're safe," he whispered. "As long as I’m here, I won’t let anything happen to you."

And in that moment, despite the pain, you knew he meant it.

[pedroscowgirl]

Fresh out the slammer

Aaron hotchner x bau fem!reader

Fluff!

masterlist

Summary: You were set up and spent some time in jail, and when you finally got released, you knew who'd your first call would be to❤️

A/n: a little drabble I thought of when listening to Fresh out the slammer from TS🤭I also wrote this on my phone, which was such a hassle for some reason 😭🙏🏼

The cold steel of the prison gates clanged behind you, a sound that should have echoed like freedom but didn’t. You had been inside too long, locked away for something you didn’t do. Set up, betrayed, cast aside. The day they sentenced you was a blur of confusion and disbelief. You remembered how the team—the very people you considered family—had looked at you, some with pity, others with doubt. But not Aaron Hotchner.

You stepped out into the sunlight, blinking as the brightness stung your eyes. It didn’t feel real. How could it, after the nightmare you’d lived through? The trial, the accusations, the months spent behind bars, waiting for someone to realize the truth. The only thing that had kept you going was the thought of him. Aaron. You knew he had never given up on you. He had promised he’d fix this, and he did. But it took too long.

Now, “pretty baby, I’m running back to you,” you thought to yourself, your heart pounding as you reached into your pocket for your phone. Your first call,it could only be him. There was no one else you wanted, no one else who could understand what this moment meant.

The phone rang once, twice, then his voice came through, steady and familiar, the anchor you’d needed for months. “Sweetheart?"

You could hear the tension in his voice, the concern he couldn’t hide, but also relief. He knew it was you, and in that second, it felt like the world shifted back into place.

“I’m out,” you whispered, barely able to keep your voice from shaking. “Aaron, I’m free.”

There was a pause, a beat of silence where everything hung in the balance. You imagined him standing in his office, hand gripping the phone, trying to keep it together. “Where are you?”

“I don’t know… just outside the gates,” you admitted, looking around at the empty parking lot, feeling lost in the real world for the first time in what felt like forever. “I didn’t know who else to call.”

“I’m coming to get you,” he said, his voice firm, like there was no other option. “Stay where you are.”

You let out a shaky breath and nodded, even though he couldn’t see it. The weight of the last few months lifted just a little, knowing he was on his way. He’d always been the one person you could count on, the one person who saw through the lies and believed in you when no one else did. And now, he was the first one to pull you back into the world, the first one to remind you who you really were.

---

It didn’t take long for him to arrive. The black SUV pulled up, and you saw him step out, his expression unreadable at first,his usual stoic Hotchner mask firmly in place. But when his eyes met yours, something softened. Without a word, he crossed the distance between you, his arms wrapping around you in an embrace that was both grounding and overwhelming.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered against your hair, his grip tightening like he was afraid you might slip away again.

You buried your face in his chest, the familiar scent of him grounding you in a way you hadn’t felt since before everything went wrong. “I missed you,” you confessed, your voice muffled by the fabric of his suit.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes. “I missed you too.”

For a moment, the world fell away. It was just the two of you, standing in the middle of an empty parking lot, holding onto each other like you’d both been drowning for months. You had been waiting for this moment—dreaming of it, imagining how it would feel to be free and back in his arms. And now that it was real, it felt like you could breathe again.

But the reality of everything still lingered, just on the edge of this perfect moment.

“They set me up,” you said softly, your voice trembling with the weight of the truth you had been forced to live with. “They wanted me out of the way, and it worked.”

Hotch’s jaw clenched, a flash of anger crossing his face. “We’ll make sure they pay for it.”

You knew he meant it. If there was one thing you could trust, it was Aaron’s dedication to justice. But right now, all you cared about was being with him, feeling like yourself again after months of being stripped of your identity, your freedom.

“I don’t care about that,” you said, shaking your head. “Not right now. I just want to be with you.”

His hand came up to cup your face, his thumb brushing gently across your cheek. “You don’t have to worry about anything anymore. You’re with me now.”

You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes for a moment, letting yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, things could be okay again. Being with him, you felt like you had found your way back to the person you were before all of this, a person who was loved, believed in, and strong.

“I never doubted you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Not for a second.”

You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze. There was so much you wanted to say, but words felt inadequate. Instead, you leaned up and kissed him, pouring every emotion,every moment of pain, fear, and hope into that kiss.

When you finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath coming in shallow bursts. “You’re safe now.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you believed it.

[gojoacedia]

Katsuki Bakugou was getting increasingly less patient with the current case he had to work on. All across Japan, a villain was kidnapping and killing quirkless women while mocking all of the heroes going after him. What got to Katsuki was how similar the villain's mindset was to his old mindset.

“Why are you trying so hard to protect these quirkless wannabes? I’m doing the world a favor by making sure these genetically inferior women will never be able to reproduce! Don’t you want to live in a world where people can protect themselves and not just be damsels in distress?”

After Izuku lost his quirk, this topic was extremely sensitive for Katsuki. It was obvious this villain had never actually talked to or associated with quirkless people. This was the reason why he was so enthusiastic about leading the operation to save a woman who was recently kidnapped. He was going to take the villain down, save the girl, and give this villain a piece of his mind before he rotted in prison. That was the plan, anyway.

What he didn’t expect was for the villain to be as strong as he was. Katsuki’s biggest weakness was underestimating people who he felt were inferior, and he had fallen victim to this mindset once again. The second he stepped through those doors and saw you, bloodied, beaten, and tied up, white rage blinded him for just enough time to get caught himself.

“So nice of you to join us, Dynamight! You came just in time for the killing!” The villain teased as he put Katsuki in quirk-suppressing handcuffs. Katsuki inwardly raged at himself. Here he was, forced to watch you bleed out in front of him. He couldn’t help but feel hopeless. It was obvious the villain was going to take his sweet time with you. But you had other plans.

You had been observing the villains’ behavior ever since you were kidnapped. You knew you couldn't escape by yourself, even though the flimsy duct tape around your wrists could be ripped off in seconds. Unlike Katsuki, you were ecstatic to see he was kidnapped also. This meant you had a fighting chance.

The second the villain left the room to get supplies for your murder, you snapped the tape off of your wrists and undid the rest on your mouth and ankles. You searched the room for any kind of weapon, ultimately landing on a metal stool your kidnapper watched you from. You hid behind the door until you saw him come out, swinging the stool as hard as you could at his head. He hit the floor within seconds. It seemed his biggest weakness was also underestimating people he thought were inferior. You took this time to search his person for keys to unchain Katsuki, who was your real way out of here.

Katsuki watched in awe as a quirkless woman saved his life. He watched as you problem-solved your way out of your restraints before immediately going towards his. He watched as you ignored all of your injuries like you couldn’t feel a thing. He watched as your hands flipped through each key on the key ring, trying each key on his restraints without even a slight shake in your hands. Most heroes he knew weren’t as professional as you were. Who were you?

After finally unlocking Katsuki’s handcuffs, you allowed yourself to finally let your guard down. You knew he would protect you from there. What you didn’t know was how much blood you had lost. As soon as your body relaxed from undoing his restraints, you passed out in his lap.

—

You woke up to bright fluorescent lights and the smell of disinfectant.

“Doc, I think she’s waking up!” you heard a muffled voice call out beside you. You tried to bring your arms up to rub your eyes, but they were too sore to even move. You winced at the feeling. “Hey- it’s okay, you don’t have to move,” you heard the same voice murmur from your side. You felt a hand on your arm which you grabbed, knowing the only form of communication you had right now was from physical touch. You squeezed the hand gently to say ‘thank you’ to whoever was watching over you all this time. As you heard the nurse walk in you drifted back to sleep.

The next time you woke up it was dark outside. The weight of the person previously next to you was gone. You were just glad you could see and hear properly now. You looked down at your body, starting to examine all of the injuries you had somehow survived. You were wrapped like a mummy from head to toe. Multiple IVs were sticking out of your arm with fluids you didn’t recognize. It was going to be a long healing process.

“Ah, you’re awake again,” you heard from the doorway. You looked up to see the pro hero Dynamight holding a cup of coffee.

“Dynamight…” was the only word you could muster. He tried to hide his smile before walking back over to where he had previously sat.

“You’re (y/n), right? I was sent to save you from your kidnapping, but you ended up saving me instead,” he explained in a low voice, scared of his ego being damaged by someone else hearing. You shook your head ‘no’.

“I didn’t save you… if you didn’t show up I would be dead,” you spoke to him weakly. He shook his head.

“You were more professional out there than most pro heroes I know. You didn’t look scared at all. How did you do it? Who are you?” He finished his questioning while sitting down and putting his coffee on your bedside table. You let out a small laugh. Of course, a pro hero would never understand.

“I don’t expect you to understand, but being quirkless my whole life has put me through some pretty awful situations. I worry every single day about being kidnapped, murdered, or worse. It just so happens that today was that day,” you explained to him nonchalantly. Something clicked in Katsuki’s brain. While he chose every day to put himself in danger, you didn’t. You were used to it. Ever since you were in Izuku’s position, getting beaten for the simple fact that you were quirkless in elementary school.

“I’m sorry,” Katsuki whispered. You looked at him in confusion. What did he have to be sorry for? “I put myself in danger every day to protect people like you and I think it makes me a hero. You are in danger every day, and you don’t even choose to be. That’s why you’re more heroic than all my coworkers. I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to realize something so simple. I’m so sorry,” he spoke to you while grabbing your hand, making sure you knew he was sincere. He looked up at your face and saw tears streaming down your cheeks.

“My whole life… I just wanted someone like you to understand. I didn’t think it would be a big deal or anything… but it means a lot, Dynamight,” you cried while wiping your tears with your arms.

“Please call me Katsuki.”

A/N:

This was inspired by living as a woman. If you’re a woman reading this, ESPECIALLY a black woman, I want you to know that you are seen and heard by me. You go through hell and back every single day, and I want you to know that this only makes you stronger. You are so much stronger than you think you are. I was recently in an emergency (nothing as bad as kidnapping lol) and every single person in that lecture hall was shocked I knew how to deal with it in a calm and composed manner. It’s because I live in anxiety and when something bad happens, I’ve already planned for it 1000 times over in my head. I promise there’s a point to what you’re going through, and you will come out stronger.

[st4rgzer]

now playing…SO LONG, LONDON (spencer reid)

summary: spencer realizes how much damage he had been causing you.

genre: angst with fluffy ending

cw!: idk relationship problems?😭 also use of y/n and y/l/n (your last name)

a/n: so since y’all wanted a happy ending version! here it is, it isn’t quite like the song but yeah, you guys get the point. masterlist

tension protruded eagerly from the silent room. it was dim, you had left some candles lit but that was it. your cheeks were wet and hot. but somehow you still felt an adamant numbing sensation of coldness. your weary bones hugged your knees, sniffles breaking through the silence.

“how long did you think i could’ve held on” you muttered through your broken voice.

“what?” he lifted his head from in between his legs where he had his hands pressed to the back of his neck.

“how long did you think i could’ve held on to you? were you just going to let me destroy myself, give everything i had just for you to crack a smile?” you spoke loudly now, sharp words that stung as spencer heard every one of them.

he didn’t respond. instead, he just listened. he knew the last thing you wanted from him right now was for him tp talk back, so he let you talk.

“fuck, even my friends said it was not right to be scared! not of you, but of how quickly your temperament can change from one moment to another. every breath that i take feels like im stealing it from you, like- like when i do finally get to do so, its short and doesn’t last long until i have to hold my breath again.”

“do you resent me, spencer? is that what this is? you left the BAU after you got back from prison, and i thought it was to settle down, make me your wife. but you never wanted this, did you?” spencers head perked up. his demeaner changed. he went from attentive and remorseful to stern.

“do not say that. “ he pointed a finger at you “y/n y/l/n don’t you, for a second, think i regret any minute i’ve ever spent with you, i regret a lot of things in my life but meeting you, loving you? i’ve never thought twice about that. you are my number one priority in this life, and im sorry i couldn’t give you everything you wanted, at least not right now. but i promise, i swear on my life, if that even means anything, that i’m going to get better. and i know actions speak more than words, but please, please hold on. i’m not going to insist you stay here with me, but just promise you’ll come back when you’re ready? i love you, y/n, and i hate myself for even thinking that i hurt you.” his tone was indulgent, pleading almost. he had stood up and waved his hands frantically as he punctuated each word, meaning every one. his frazzled hair and big brown eyes kept you at bay.

for a few minutes there was silence as you quietly digested his words.

“do you mean that?” you whispered, fragile, as you looked up at him.

he nodded his head, looking away and blinking a few times. trying to hold in the tears that painfully pricked his waterline.

you sighed, attempting to weigh the pro’s and con’s of the situation, but you loved him. a mental list of the good and the bad wasn’t going to decide the fate of your life. in every relationship there’s hell in heaven, eventually, happiness comes back. all you knew was that this man encapsulated your whole being with nothing more than love and affection, so you knew that this was nothing but a small dent in the glass case that encased the rose that was your love.

you opened your arms, he hesitantly got down to your level. you held him tightly, as if the weight of the wind was to carry him away at any moment. he buried his head in qthe crook of your neck, sniffling as he let out soft sobs, and whispers of apologies.

eventually, the tears ceased. and you both laid there, enveloped. consumed by each other, hands caught in spencers hair from raking through it, as sleep caught onto you. spencer kissed the bridge of your nose gently.

“i love you”

“i love you too”

a/n: guys idk how to feel about this one, this might have been my least favorite so far😭

taglist: @ilovesadiesink @sp3ncelle @lvtilzs @bunnylov-3-r @bellasprettywords

*comment to be added*

[bloodyinkandquill]

Ban Hammer x Reader

it is two am, istg do not write on this until the morning me, i will hate you i have to be up in five hours let’s go to bed

ok i didn’t write this but i did stay up another hour and a half listening to a true crime podcast so…

- You’d think dating a 6’11 demigod who owns the most secure prison in Inpherno would not be on someone’s to-do list, but for you it was different, you knew him more than just the fearsome warden, to you he was your lover and honestly, a bit of a big softy

- Ban Hammer was big, he knew that, really strong too, so he was more than just a little afraid of hurting you, especially if he had his big and sharp armor on, he liked being physically affectionate, but he did worry about hurting you, so he’d wait until he’d taken off his armor you hug you, which did sort of feel like being swallowed whole since he’s such a large man, but it felt safe and warm so you never minded it

- He was gruff and tough but after a long day he enjoyed just laying face down the couch as you stroked his head pulling it to rest on your lap, he’d just lie there as you tried to convince him to get up, take off his armor, get some water, etc, he’d grumble about it but eventually get up

- Hope you like golf, he loves taking you to go golf, he’d never admit this but it’s mostly because when he does good you tell him how great of a shot he was and other junk like that and he enjoyed the praise, if you didn’t like golf he wouldn’t mind you sitting back as long as you were there together, and you were paying attention to him, he may be your boyfriend but he’s very clingy like a puppy, he also loved receiving praise from you, he already thinks very highly of himself but hearing you say those things feels even better to him

- He’d probably take you on very fancy dinner dates, to those really nice restaurants, though you have to make the reservations because he can be a little high strung and will demand certain things like a good seat, or a discount, so to avoid him getting mad at some poor waitress you make them for the both of you

- Like mentioned he’s super cuddly and snuggly, he loves just holding you as he sleeps, or sitting very close to you to the point he’s practically on top of you, you sometimes have to tell him that’s he’s crushing you, he moves immediately and feels bad, you tell him it’s fine but how about you sit on him instead

- Unironically uses sorta cheesy pet names, you’d expect him to be more creative with it but I feel like he’d use ‘baby, babe, sweetheart, etc’ though something funny he does is he has his voice and then his warden voice, loud and commanding to demand respect and fear, sometimes he forgets to turn it off when he gets home so he gets home and says in a gruff unamused voice ‘babe i’m home!’ to the point it sounds sorta angry, you crack up and he clears his throat before saying it snot that funny, as you’re doubling over in laughter

- The first time you met Windforce was terrifying, he loved you but he loved his mom more, if she said she didn’t like you that would be it, and if you pissed her off you feared her wrath, luckily she thought you were fine, obviously she has a distaste for mortals but you make her boy happy so she puts up with you, maybe not fully liking you but she doesn’t mind you, as long as you don’t annoy her she doesn’t care

- Thought meeting Windforce was scary? One time Ban Hammer said his whole family was having a dinner party, Firebrand organized it trying to keep the family all together and connected, and Ban Hammer wanted to bring you to meet all his uncles and few cousins, you didn’t wanna say no but holy shit you were terrified, you were about to meet literally the entirety of the SFotH, which was definitely intimidating, luckily they all at the very least didn’t dislike you, and you got to meet Flipside which was cool, but holy shit when you go home you let out the biggest breath ever since you were so on edge the whole time

hope you enjoyed! had fun writing it and thinking of all this junk, anyways до свидания!

[mulloey]

innocents • yunho

it’s easy to forget you’re his prisoner

warnings: criminal!yunho, mentioned sex trafficking (but it’s in the context of him Not doing it), mentioned murder, reader is held against her will but nothing is done to her without consent, her shitty boyfriend pimped her out kind of and yunho’s not about that but he is Not a good dude in this, dom yunho, implied drugging (alcohol), implied physical punishment, other than the *implications* this is actually pretty tame. also san is yunho’s goon lol

this doesn’t represent yunho, ateez or my perception of them in any way. don’t like, don’t read:) please comment if you enjoyed!

—————

The first time you met Yunho, you were a payment. Your stupid, doofus boyfriend, thinking he was tough and smart enough to survive a life of crime, had gotten in too deep with the wrong people and found himself with a bounty on his head, pursued across the country until he was finally cornered in a dodgy part of Seoul. Dragged unceremoniously to Yunho’s office, he’d realised quickly who he was dealing with, and what was about to happen to him, and in a moment of desperation had offered you up instead. “Take my girlfriend,” he’d begged. “She’s at my house and she’s beautiful, you can have her. Just please don’t kill me.” And Yunho, disgusted that your boyfriend would offer you up like cattle but intrigued by the thought of you, had sent one of his men to pick you up.

You knew what your boyfriend had gotten involved with and you knew how spineless he was, so you weren’t surprised to see an armed man in your doorway, telling you to come with him if you wanted your boyfriend to live. You were more annoyed than anything else, but as much as you hated your boyfriend for selling you out like this, you didn’t want him to die, certainly not in the slow, painful way the man in your doorway had so graphically promised. So you followed, allowing yourself to be brought to a sprawling property on the other side of the city. When you were dragged into Yunho’s office, your coward of a boyfriend wouldn’t even meet your eye. But there was one person who couldn’t take his eyes off of you. The tall, dangerous looking man behind the desk.

He looked you up and down for a moment, ordering his man to turn you around so he could see the back of you, before nodding. “I accept your offer,” he told your boyfriend. “Leave her with me and don’t ever return to Korea, and I’ll wipe your debts and set you free. Understood?”

And without a moment's hesitation, your boyfriend agreed, thanking Yunho profusely for his generosity — for taking her instead of me. You could have attacked him if you weren’t surrounded by armed henchmen, but you were realising now that this pathetic little man wasn’t worth any more of your energy. So you let him scurry away with your back turned, eyes cast downwards to the floor.

The room was silent for a moment, tension in the air, until Yunho spoke. “If you’re wondering what I’m going to do to you, don’t worry,” he said. “I sell things, not people. Not women, at least. You’ll be safe here with me.”

You nodded, not really convinced before he ordered you closer to him. You shuffled forwards, as slow as you could before one of his men shoved you so hard you stumbled, landing on the solid wood of the desk.”

“San, you fucking idiot,” Yunho snapped, standing from his chair and rounding the desk to help you up. You looked you up and down and, satisfied you weren’t hurt, released his grip on you. “Your boyfriend’s lucky you’re such a beauty,” he said. “And so are you. Cus he’s not being fed to dogs right now, and I’m going to take much better care of you than he did.”

For some reason, maybe the sting and annoyance of the idiotic betrayal you’d just suffered, you believed him. Yunho would take care of you. He’d keep you safe. And you’d never be bounty again.

True to his word, Yunho was for the most part perfectly respectful. He didn’t touch or try anything with you without your permission, and he made certain none of his men did either, as made abundantly clear your second month under his care, when a low level fighter had cornered and felt you up, and Yunho, upon hearing about it, had summoned him to his office and, without a word, shot him between the eyes with his own gun.

The only time Yunho wasn’t so nice to you was the few attempts you’d made to escape. As much as he respected you as a person, he’d forgiven a lot of transgressions and missed out on an awful lot of money to have you, and he wasn’t going to let you go. And in the months (you think, time moves strangely in Yunho’s house) you’d been in his possession, he had by his own admission, developed feelings that gave him another reason to want to keep you with him.

After a few failed escape attempts and quite severe reprisals, he’d settled on another way to keep you pliant. With your previous boyfriend you’d gotten heavily into alcohol and as Yunho quickly realised, supplying you with it was a good way to keep you happy and obedient. And to keep you safe by his side, anything that worked was worth it.

You’re a few drinks deep when he comes into your room, taking a seat on your bed, eyes on you. You’re at your desk and facing him, fiddling absentmindedly with an empty glass.

“Come here.”

You feel dizzy, and not just because of the alcohol. You see the small knife in his hand, dwarfed by his massive palms. You know what those palms can do to you. You’ve tried everything to avoid finding out about the knife.

“Are you going to cut me?” You try to sound as afraid as possible, knowing it softens him — not because he feels bad for scaring you, but because he likes it. You’re such a good girl, he’d say, being so afraid of me. He thinks it’s sweet. It makes him happy. And you like when he’s happy.

His face is blank. “Why would I cut you?”

“The knife.”

His gaze flickers to it, then back to you. “Ah,” he says, smiling slightly. “This isn’t for you.”

“Did you hurt someone?” You ask softly.

“I’m going to,” he says. He puts the knife down on the bed, behind his back where you can’t see it. But now you know it’s there and you guess that was his intention. Your time with this man has taught you that nothing, nothing he does is an accident. “Come here.”

His tone is harder now, on the edge of anger. Since becoming his prisoner, as he hates when you call yourself, you’ve learned that Yunho does not like repeating himself — a lesson that has been painfully delivered to you more times than either of you would like. Not wanting another, you scurry over to him, stopping short of settling on his lap, because he hasn’t said you can touch him, and you know not to do it without his permission. Nothing without permission.

He smiles, recognising your obedience and pats his lap. “Sit.”

You settle yourself in your lap, heart still racing slightly, but the feeling of his warm hands on the small of your back always calms you. He strokes up and down your back, humming softly with his gaze fixed on you. “Have you been good today?” He asks.

You nod. “I have. Thank you for the drinks.”

He hums, running his thumb across your plush lips. He pushes it in slightly, letting you suck at the tip while his other fingers stroke your cheek. “I wanted to check on you,” he says quietly, “before I leave. Just to make sure you’re okay.”

“I am,” you say, smiling softly.

He narrows his eyes, studying your face for any signs of dishonesty, but you know better than to lie to him. You know that in less than a second, the soft, gentle touches on your back could turn hard, crushing and striking, and it informs every choice you make with him. He nods, apparently satisfied that you’re telling the truth, and presses a kiss to your lips. “Good girl,” he breathes.

You smile at the praise, out of relief as much as happiness. You’ve learned quickly that Yunho is very, very good at concealing his true feelings — a necessary skill for someone of his profession — so you never bank on him being satisfied with your behaviour until he confirms it himself. But today he is satisfied, and it fills you with relief. “Thank you,” you whisper.

Yunho smiles at you and pushes his thumb back into your mouth. Focused on the feeling, you don’t notice his other hand move from the small of your back to the top of your leg. The feeling of his hand on the sensitive bare skin of your thigh makes you jolt and he tuts, tightening his grip slightly. “Still,” he orders gently.

He lets his hand wander further up your leg, into the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, dangerously close. Your breath hitches as his hand slowly approaches your most sensitive area. “Yunho,” you whisper, the desperation in your voice evident.

He smiles softly but shakes his head. “I don’t have time now, darling,” he says regretfully. “Just wanted to play with my baby a little before I go. Get her worked up and ready for when I’m back.”

The hand on your face moves to grip your thigh, holding you in place as the other pulls your tiny shorts to the side and presses a long finger into your hole. You gasp softly; it’s been a while since you’d started playing with Yunho like this, but you’ll never get used to his size, not just of his dick but of his entire body. Everything about him is large, strong, brimming with restrained power until he has a reason to unless it.

The finger reaches deep inside you, curling as he pushes another in. He starts to pump them slowly, quickly speeding up until you’re whining and squirming on his lap. A third soon joins and you almost choke. “Yunho,” you cry.

He hums, not acknowledging you further. You love when he plays with you like this, clinically and methodically pleasuring you but seeming indifferent to you or your reactions. He doesn’t care what sounds you make, how many times you come undone on his fingers. You’re his toy and he’ll play with you until he gets bored.

He presses his thumb to your clit, rubbing in circles to drive you close to the edge. You’re babbling incoherently now, crying and gasping as he works you to your orgasm.

“Yunho,” you sob as his fingers speed up. “Yunho, I’m gonna—”

“Do it,” he says. He doesn’t look up at you, gaze still fixed in your gushing pussy.

You cry as you let yourself go, juices coating his entire hand. He chuckles at the sight, pumping his fingers a few more times before pulling them out, but you know that’s more due to his time constraints than any desire to show you mercy. Other than your worst misbehaviours, the only time Yunho shows the merciless, cruel side of himself with you is during sex. He’s in charge, and he loves the way you cower and come undone beneath him.

He holds you in his lap for a few more minutes, stroking your gently and whispering praises as you come down from your high, before he gets up, a sad look on his face. “I so wish I could stay, baby,” he says mournfully. “You’re such a good girl for me.”

“Me too,” you sigh. “Please don’t get hurt.

He tilts his head, lips twitching with an amused smile. “I never do that,” he says. “And I’m not fighting anyone tonight. Just teaching them a lesson. Be ready for me when I’m back, yeah?”

You nod and he smiles, pressing another kiss to your lips before picking up his knife and walking out of your room. You hear the lock click behind him, a reminder that as much as you love each other, you’re still his prisoner. But the ghosts of his touches on your skin make it so much sweeter.

—————

[boomerangguy]

Forgotten Firelord

As much as I want to see a well-executed Azula redemption, I also need Ozai to get some attention.

Not asking for a long dramatic arc where he “unlearns imperialism” because that’s never going to happen and trying to moralize through education (especially to a deposed monarch) doesn’t work. Personal values need to change.

So his ‘redemption,’ if we can call it that, is all very subtle and delicate, completely confined to his own thoughts and spanning several decades. The regret has to gnaw at him. He has to spend those years imagining what would have happened if he’d defeated Aang, reliving the day of Sozin’s Comet over and over and over until all his bitterness runs dry and his ‘what ifs’ grow stale.

Reluctantly, he finally admits — maybe just subconsciously — that world conquest would not have satisfied him. That sort of thing cannot offer the deep fulfillment he yearns for, so he starts wondering what would.

Participating in a loving, fruitful marriage. Companionship with his brother. Watching his children grow and flourish. Protecting his own people’s way of life instead of using them as fodder to conquer other nations. Ozai spends years dwelling on what he might have missed, gradually delving deeper and deeper.

He eventually faces regrets that he doesn’t know how to process. Missing his chance to kill Aang becomes the furthest thing from his mind — instead, it’s blindly following his ambition, mutilating his son, exiling his wife, mistreating his daughter, failing as Firelord.

But it’s too late to fix any of that now. All he can do is whisper in the darkness of his cell, late at night when no one else will hear:

“I’m sorry.”

When he finally dies forty years after Sozin’s Comet, no one knows that he had a change of heart — and no one particularly cares that he’s gone, either. The Fire Nation has moved on. Most people had forgotten about him or assumed he was already dead. Just one person bothers to visit the lonely cell where Ozai spent nearly half his life.

Decades before, Aang sent a small gift — something of a gag, but not intended to mock — to the prison for Ozai. To his surprise, the Firelord noodle art he’d made in Fire Nation school is still hanging on the cell wall. Only a few moldy old noodles are left, but there’s no mistaking what it means: The noodle art is how innocent children would have seen their Firelord — the man and ruler he should have been.

He buries the art with Ozai and resolves to find him in the Spirit World.