#and at the same time‚ you have the right‚ perhaps even the duty‚ to express your appreciation for the things that make your day better

[headphonemouse]

I left a comment on a fic then checked out the author's account only to realize that I've already read all their other works and also left comments there god I hope they don't recognize me

[affableramen]

yandere genshin men trying to make things right between you

angst, mildly dark themes ayato, neuvillette, pantalone, capitano, dottore, alhaitham

note: trying a new genre.

Neuvillette

Yandere Neuvillette kept forcing you into marriage after your relationship just got established. You asked him to give you some time to think over such radical and responsible change in life, but he was adamant to your pleads. He wanted everything here and now proven officially on the papers. You spent some nights crying because to think that such gentleman-like and solitary person like Neuvillette would force you into marital relationship was eerie. The desire to possess you officially seemed to blind him completely and he went from a loving gentleman to an almost insanely addicted man who did not accept a refusal.

It was your break-time at work when Neuvillette suddenly came up to you. It was odd at first - the judge putting away his duties to meet you seemed almost unbelievable, but remembering how assertive he was in the relationship with you it might have been close to the reality.

“Can I have a moment of your time, love?” He asked you, his hand not reaching to touch you but his gaze was heavy on your face.

“Of course.”

Not longer after the two of you were sitting in the cafeteria - a curious choice for a private conversation. Although you did not deny you seemed much more comfortable in a public place rather than face-to-face with him.

“About our marriage…” Neuvillette started, his fingers grazing over his glass of water.

“You already know my opinion”, you answered with no emotion. The time to play nice unfortunately came to an end.

But the next response from Neuvillette kind of gave you goosebumps:

“If I was too harsh on you, I beg of you to forgive me. I have a habit of grasping something dear to me too tightly, and I’m afraid that I hurt you more than I could possibly imagine”, he took a pause for a breath and gulped a sip of his crystal clear water. “I genuinely need to know whether or not you still harbour any pleasant feeling towards me?”

“What are you saying? Of course I do, Neuvillette—I admit you were unacceptably rough on me the past few weeks, but it would make me a poor lover if it were to stop me from harbouring affection to you.”

The judge sighed in relief, and then his expression became serious again.

“I would love nothing more than for us to marry, but I realise the circumstances of pushing you too much. Tell me, dear, if you no longer want to proceed in intimate acquiantance with me.”

You shook your head - seems like he was not hearing you. You then took his hand in yours and spelled it again, frankly:

“No, I want to be with you, wholeheartedly. And the marriage proposal, I shall accept it too.”

Pantalone

When Pantalone kidnapped you for no specific reason, days turned to weeks. You almost forgot about the existence of sunlight as he kept you there like a pretty little porcelain doll for his own amusement—or whatever his nasty reasons might have been.

The last time you tried to escape his gloomy, mysterious castle-like home, you were severely punished for your “bad behaviour”. Blood dripped down from your chin as you were sitting on the floor of a dark hollow room, chained and bruised by his henchmen. Perhaps he considered it too tacky to touch you with his own hands.

And then he entered. You didn't even want to look at his unapproachable, icy-cold eyes, and simply turned away, your eyes shut and hidden from him.

“How rough you look”, he said with his usual tone which was cold, but at the same time smooth like butter.

You were dehydrated and hungry, that’s for sure. You wanted nothing more than a warm fuzzy blanket and sweet tea, and forget this nightmare forever.

“When was the last time you had a proper meal?” He asked. He knew you never ate his food because you’d consider yourself indebted to him. And you did not want to take anything from this man.

Your face went deadly pale and bewildered when Pantalone dropped on his knees before you and started freeing you from your shackles. His hands were shaking wildly, you could witness how poorly he mastered the lockers due to his stress.

Yet without a single doubt, with no longer time to lose he wrapped his arms around your waist to carry you. His clothes were a little stained with the snow, and a bit of freezing touch made you shiver.

“I will never do this to you anymore. Forgive me. Please, forgive me.” His words that used to be spoken as an order now were slipped from his lips as a request. 

You were laid in the warmth of the sheets of your own home. The familiar surroundings brought you joy and comfort you never knew you’d forgotten so easily.

“My butler is cooking a dinner for you in your kitchen.”

He watched the whole time you were eating, guarding you and seeing how desperately you were filling your stomach up. When you finished eating, there was one loud slap—against Pantalone’s face, by your hand. In a normal situation, he would be so angry and furious that the earth would shake of his abhor. But now he was simply taking it.

"I know. I should never have treated you like this. I ignored your wishes and violated your privacy. I’ve done the worst crime to you—I took your freedom”, he touched the red mark blooming on his cheek from your unexpected punishment. “I wanted to obtain you so much that I ended up hurting you instead.”

Ayato

He was rich to his fingertips. In his world, the only thing he could not have, but wanted to, was you. You found yourself working as his secretary, aesthetically pleasing and always efficient. But Ayato was ruthless; he could never be satisfied, he was always unhappy. The requirements to you were growing day by day, and keeping up the standards seemed an impossible task. His moods were changing like a thunderstorm.

It was a regular day when you were performing your duties that you felt someone’s presence behind your back. Ayato was not exactly above lurking so he made his presence known after you turned to face him. He did not expect you to turn so rapidly and ended up with his breath tickling against your face.

“Y/N, I’m sorry. I have been too demanding and controlling. My actions driven by raw possessiveness inflicted undesirable effect upon you”, Ayato’s words died away, though the expression on his face became even more grim and grave. “You do not deserve such treatment, any of it.” 

You nearly dropped your working papers as you stared at him. Was this man really sincere? How long has he been overthinking about your relationship? It took you just a few seconds to gather your composure and strike him with an indifferent glare.

“It’s always so easy and costs no trouble for you, rich people. You just take what you want without considering either the outcome or other people’s feelings. You see people as things, belongings in your possession, and you never have enough.”

At that, Ayato became even more tense, his expression that was mainly seen by the most of people as sweet and gentle, now was an embodiment of darkness. Nevertheless he nodded to you.

“What should I do for you to forgive me? I’m not going to lie and say that I did not think about how harmful my attitude might have been to you for the past month. What think you? Do I even stand a chance?”

“Fat chance”, you chuckled under your breath. The laugh was almost too bitter rather than sarcastic.

Ayato took your hands in his, his black gloved thumbs rubbing against your skin slightly.

“You’re like a poison to me. A very addicting one. And the more I see you work for me, the more I want to have you by my side. Not just at a formal event…” he bit his pale pink lip for a moment. “I’m starting to feel as if I’d like to see you out of work circumstance, and the thoughts of such impropriety are enough to drive me utterly insane.”

You reciprocated the light squeeze that came from his hands, however yours was less obsessive and more gentle. 

“It is a very dangerous thought, Ayato.”

“Oh, I can be a very dangerous man. For you, that is.”

Capitano

You were walking in Capitano’s garden, feeling yourself like a beautiful bird in a golden cage, but in fact you were a princess in a beast’s castle. Once you saw his real face, you kept having nightmares about his skin rotting appearance. This man was scaring you to the bone, and every time you met him, although not very often, you felt how demanding and heavy the gaze of his icy blue eyes was.

You did not see him often, but once a while Capitano requested (no, ordered!) a private dinner with you. The rooms were dimly lit, his loyal butler making preparations to the highest standards as usual, and you - wearing the most luxurious of dresses you’d only be able to peek at in the past. But your face was the odd one as it beared no smile on it. You were gravely terrified by this man who had claimed you as his. And even though you slept in separate rooms, you could not brush the feeling as if he owned you; well, he kind of did, since you dwelt in his mansion. 

Per usual, you were having a dinner with him at about eight in the evening when Capitano finally spoke. His tone was filled with assertiveness and power, yet the way he was eating, the movements of his hands were elegant enough to remind you of an excellently-educated prince.

“Y/N, I need to speak to you.”

You shivered when you heard him, and you let go of the fork. The jingling sound spread across the room which put you even in an unnecessarily bigger predicament.

“Yes, sir?”

Capitano hummed - he put his utensils away and looked as if he was carefully choosing his words which was not a habit of his. This Harbinger often talked exactly what he thought and was known for his bluntness. Capitano never beat around the bush and was always straight to the point, and this was one of the personality traits of his that made you feel conflicted. It was both terrifying and worth of respect.

“I want you to stop being scared of me. I want you to see that there is more of me than a horriffic, ugly old beast.”

You gasped: did he just used those unflattering words to himself? It felt so odd and so frustrating.

“What feelings do you want me to harbour for you, given our unusual circumstances?”

There was a long pause before Capitano made a sip of his red wine and suggested the following:

“Affection is too much, but could you at least try to be friendly with me? Don’t you see—can’t you see how hard I’m trying to make your life with me less unbearable?”

Affection… friendliness… is that what he really needs from you?—you think.

“I’m a prisoner here, I cannot imagine how I am supposed to show any warm feelings towards you. It would be fake and stupid.”

“Then make them not fake and stupid.” Capitano raised from the table and stormed out of the dining room, leaving you alone in the dim light of candles.

Dottore

You woke up on the plain lab bed, still restrained but this time your pain was drastically diminished. When you opened your eyes the lights did not cut your sight right away and you realised that the room was only dimly lit. You sighed in relief - perhaps he went on a break and you had a few moments of rest from his constant analysis and experiments upon your body.

There were a few tattoos on your hands but too small to even understand their meanings. Perhaps it was something from Zandik’s past that he decided to ruthlessly carve on you.

Your happiness and sense of relief did not last long though, as the man who called himself Doctor entered the room not exactly quietly. 

“Look who’s alive. I’m glad”, he wrote something on his notes, “very glad, even.”

“What are you going to do to me next? Turn me into… abomination?” You attempted to sound sarcastic even though all your being was screaming inside. “I’m pretty sure you have not gotten your fill yet out of me.”

Dottore abruptly stopped writing and dropped his journal on the lab desk next to you.

“I think we’re finished here.”

“What?”

“I said you’re free to go”, he cut your leather restraints with one rough motion that had a vibe of uncertainty of the soul.

You looked at your hands, your body cheered welcoming freedom, but at the bottom of your heart you were perplexed.

“But why?”

Dottore did not utter a single word more, with his face buried into his other records, he turned away from you completely ignoring your presence.

You found your clothes tidy and repaired on the chair, and put them on quickly. Upon escaping the place you saw that not a single Fatui agent was preventing you from leaving. You looked at the lab once more and a pang of strange kind of sorrow appeared in your heart. Perhaps, you should pay him a visit once you’re recovered? Or was it a bad idea?..

Alhaitham

The nerdy scholar was quite possessive and jealous. He had a very curious but rather depressive personality. You thought him a quiet man until one extraordinary and terrific experience. 

Alhaitham locked a man in the library for the whole night after he saw him giving you too much attention and you happily reciprocating him. An innocent friendly conversation seemed a blunt flirt to him. He could not bear the thought you having affection to someone else who was not him. When he saw you first he realised that he wanted you to see only him, and give all your attention to him. He craved to see you wanting his company, clinging to him or even agreeing to date him. But since his personality was too aloof and he never ever attempted to simply ask you out, but kept staring at you from the side, stalking unnoticeably and gather all information about you, you never had a chance to learn of his true feelings. Behind his obsession there had to be something, as such strong feelings never came out of nowhere.

Upon seeing you chat with that guy Alhaitham grew so furious that he almost not giving it a thought just slammed the door with the poor guy in the library and left him there for the whole damn night. Blinded by his jealousy, he did not even consider how you’d feel about that. The next morning you were perplexed by the sudden disappearance of your classmate, and once the library opening time came, the student was finally released.

“How could you do this to him? To anyone?” You asked Alhaitham; it did not take much time to learn whose fault was that.

“How could I?” He asked you back, his expression grave and unmoveable as if he were not interested in a single thing in the world. “How could you spend so much time with him? He’s a total jerk.”

“Judging by what you did the total jerk is you! How could you simply lock the person up? Are you insane?”

Alhaitham’s patience started to grow thinner. He squeezed his hands into the fists so hard that his knuckled turned snow-white.

“Are you stupid? You really don’t see how I feel about you? And you keep being so nice to everyone but me. You’re obviously ignoring me.”

Bewildered, yet you finally understood the root of the case. You stared at him for a few seconds before checking if anyone was near to eavesdrop. Luckily, there was not a soul around so you spoke honestly:

“If you wanted to woo me, endangering someone was not a good idea. You did something I deem unacceptable. And such unacceptable actions will only make me like you less, Alhaitham.”

Alhaitham leaned closer, his voice was a gentle whisper.

“Right? Then teach me to woo you properly. I’ll do thousands of attempts to win you over, no matter the cost.” You pressed your hands against his shoulders to prevent him from getting into closer proximity with you, and Alhaitham, although not completely willingly, but still backed off.

[flowersforchoso]

Bi-han Marriage Headcanons

he takes his role as your husband seriously. perhaps a little too seriously

since he is a traditional man and a bit sexist, expect a very traditional marriage with you relegated to the domestic sphere

he goes straight home after completing his duties as grandmaster. there's no lingering. no extra hours. no night out with anyone. his routine is simple: work, then home & vice-versa.

strictly refers to you as wife while pet names are more of your thing

going out on dates is a rare occurrence (you'd have to bring it up) and when you do, he takes you to a restaurant or festival.

he is not too keen on pda; even holding hands is an issue that makes one wonder how you got together, but he insists you stay close beside him.

in short, he's very much reserved when you're both out in public because he doesn't want to give the impression that he's softened.

but he takes good care of you. being a man of actions afterall.

and since he's your provider & protector, its only right that he excels at it by meeting your material and physical needs

massages are a thing. he does it to help you relax since you always do that whenever he's stressed. starts with your feet, a little tease here and there then it turns into body worship, and ends with you on your back

also bathing together is a must when he's not too busy. its bonding time and wants to spend it refreshed

when you become pregnant, his care intensifies

he takes care of everything around the house, from cooking to cleaning (he's not above doing chores), not allowing you lift a finger

at first, he didn't know how to cook outside of making soup, but he likes to challenge himself. so he gets recipes from madame bo and follows through on them

surprisingly, the meals turn out great

he's much more present at home since he delegated his tasks to be able to spend more time with you

and after you give birth, this doesn't change.

he was with you all through. giving words of encouragement during that agonizing time

the baby is here and he never lets go. whether its a girl or boy, the gender matters not. he cares for the little one so much that he only ever hands them over to you when its time to feed.

if you're having issues with your self-esteem or health like postpartum depression, he will be by your side tending to you. bathe and feed you; if you found it difficult to do basic care. he's worried but would not allow his face betray such emotion.

aids you back to health. you would have to convince him you are well enough to care for yourself, but he would keep monitoring you just to be sure, before leaving to attend to other things.

he is very caring towards you and ensures you're always comfortable.

your marriage is relatively peaceful but that doesn't mean its devoid of conflict

and since bi han is quite stubborn, that would be the source of any rift between the both of you—his obstinacy

it happens every time you express your dissatisfaction with his prioritisation of the lin kuei. they took precedence over his family, making him unavailable and unattending to your emotional needs, which he takes offence to. because they were accusations, and no matter how soft and placating your delivery was, he didn't appreciate it, even if it was true

he makes a big deal out of being told not to take on dangerous missions when he returns injured, which leads to full blown arguments because he considers it infantilizing. he doesn't want to be babied; he commands hundreds. what kind of leader would he be if he didn't take charge of his fleet?

bi han would leave the house for days on end and when he gets back, he's still passive aggressive towards you.

because of this, you give him space but it only worsens his attitude—he doesn't want you to impose distance on him.

he is the classic example of not wanting to be paid back in the same coin. his attitude towards you might be nasty, but don't you dare retaliate

and he doesn't apologize either. it can be frustrating putting up with him.

you'd need to be patient, understanding and respectful of his role as grandmaster because thats a position he's trained all his life for. its a touchy subject. don't try to make him choose between the lin kuei or you

you'd have to extend the olive branch first by apologizing because the tension would be too much to bear

it'll take a while for normalcy to return with bi han coming to you (he's very prideful so don't rush anything)

he'll get you things of sentimental value like a trinket, or a necklace or a bracelet—this is his way of saying sorry

make up sex would be much more passionate because he needs to connect with you again. fighting puts a strain on the relationship no matter how little and makes his insecurities rear its head, one of which is the fear that you might leave him someday and go be with someone else. he doesn't want that, he wants to retrace his steps and do right by you.

it's at this point that he verbally professes his love for you to assuage whatever negative feelings you might harbor and since he rarely ever say the words, they are much more valued

overall, being married to him would be very fulfilling. nothing too crazy or difficult to navigate

[loaksky]

— 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦 [𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘯𝘰 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦]

the lowdown — the one where neteyam is too blinded by duty to realize what he has right in front of him. 

the who — neteyam x fem omatikaya!reader

the word count  — 5.6k (this isn't even a drabble anymore).

the tags & warnings — language, more emotional constipation, mentions of blood & injury, childhood friends(?)2l, unrequited love, angst w a semi-happy / openish ending.

the notes  — based off of this request & this one ! let’s pretend the trees of souls didn’t get burned down in the first movie :) 

masterlist

You were an odd thing, curious, maybe a little strange, but like learning anything, everyone had grown accustomed to your weird little habits. Everyone except for Neteyam, the clan leader’s son. And the weird habit in question was poorly-expressed words of adoration that seemed to meld into unconventional confessions as you got older. 

It started when you two were eight, perhaps nine. The two of you were in a village elder’s tent, learning the best ways to debone fish to prepare for meals when she’d ducked out for a moment and left the two of you in a cloud of uncomfortable silence. 

Neteyam’s fingers were nimble, swift, while you lagged behind, eyes fluttering to the way he seemed to grasp the elder’s instruction with more ease than you. 

“We should always be together,” you’d said absently, still fiddling with the same fish while Neteyam moved onto the next. “I will be useless to our family without you.” 

Neteyam’s spine had gone rigid, gaze wide as he side-eyed you from his seat. 

“Huh?” He’d clearly been caught off guard, ministrations on the catch frozen as his eyebrows furrowed. 

“When we are married,” you’d said, holding the bone structure of your first fish triumphantly.

“Married?” he parroted shrilly, fully turning to face you. 

You looked up from your task, nodding like it was the most common of knowledge.

“Yes, Neteyam,” you affirmed, chuffing a small laugh. “In the future, when we are married.” 

Neteyam wouldn’t have been so off put had the comment been a one time thing, but they were frequent, spoken both in the quiet of much-dreaded time alone with you and hushed whispers in the midst of the other villagers your age. 

It wasn’t any help that his parents seemed to always set the two of you up in many endeavors over the course of your adolescence. And he’d tried, tried so hard to shake you over the years, but you were glued to his hip. 

You look handsome today, you’d say often, regardless. Training is paying off, whispered in his ear as your fingertips smoothe over the skin of his biceps. I hope the little ones grow to be as mighty as you are, spoken after sessions in the archery circle. The comments are all fleeting, mentioned in passing like a casual word, but they make Neteyam warm, make his cheeks heat when he searches your face for any betrayal of emotion. 

But all he’s met with is an expression that borders smug, one that makes him wonder why, out of all of the boys growing into fine young men over the course of your adolescence, had you picked him to be the object of your affections. 

Try as he might, to be short-tempered, callous, you were always there. He sought the attention of other women, tried to put as many bodies between the two of you, but you were relentless, smiled gently when you’d catch his wandering hands against the skin of another, would turn a blind eye when his lips brushed too intimately over eager ears.

At first he figured that maybe it was because he was the first boy you’d encountered and it’d just been the way the cards were dealt. At times he thought you were messing with him, a long-running joke between you and some unknown entities to fuck around with his feelings. His current theory, however, is one that he sits more confidently on when he begins observing you. 

You spend an awful amount of time not only tailing him, but tailing his family, pestering Kiri and Lo’ak about god knows what, spending many afternoons schmoozing with his parents, seeking guidance from Mo’at. 

He comes to the conclusion, after some time, that you’re trying to solidify your place within his family, trying to secure your role next to him as the future leader of the clan. This much is confirmed when his parents bring up the sore topic of you one night once everyone has turned in after the evening meal. 

“The time for your selection feast is arriving,” Neytiri says hesitantly, like she’s treading on thin ice. 

Neteyam has an inkling where this conversation will go when Jake shifts to sit next to his partner, the perfect picture of what a love that transcends all should look like. But he doesn’t know love, just knows preparing for his future and what ruling the clan will look like. 

“Yeah,” Neteyam agrees. 

“Do you have someone in mind?” Jake prods, busying himself by toying with his songchord. 

To his dismay, you briefly eclipse his mind, the annoyingly beautiful girl he’d grown up with but, even a decade later, still can’t seem to get a good read on.

“No,” he answers slowly. 

His parents seem to chew on this for a moment, glancing at each other momentarily before Neytiri draws in a deep breath and focuses her attention on her oldest son all over again. 

“Well…your father and I believe that perhaps ________ could be a good choice.”

It’s like a bomb detonates, but the aftershocks are only seen in the way Neteyam’s lips purse and his brows furrow. 

He’s not one to go against his parents, but he’ll be damned if he has to spend forever with you. 

“No,” he repeats, but with time with vindication. 

Jake looks stunned, back straightening as he takes his son in with wary eyes.

“No?” 

“No,” Neteyam reiterates. “I would rather spend my life alone than spend it with her.” 

“Neteyam,” Neytiri sighs. 

“I’m sorry, Mom, I won’t,” he says firmly, swallowing down the lump in his throat as he glances between both of his parents, hoping, wishing that maybe they’ll see that this isn’t a good idea.

“Maitan, you don’t understand,” Neytiri says softly. “When you and ________ were born, Ewya gave us a sign.”

Neteyam’s blood runs cold. 

“So this has already been decided?” he asks, voice eerily steady. 

“Not necessarily,” Jake interjects. “We didn’t want you two to feel like you were being forced to be together so we hoped that encouraging you both to spend time together would allow something to develop…” 

“But they haven’t, so now it’s a not-so-silent push,” he says shortly. 

His parents share another look and he feels annoyance beginning to form in his gut. 

“We wouldn’t say that there aren’t any feelings there,” Neytiri says. 

Neteyam breathes a humorless laugh as he shakes his head in disbelief.

“I don’t feel anything for her,” he says with finality. “Nothing about a union with her piques my interest. We’ve been in close proximity since birth but my heart feels more for the trees in the forest than it ever will for ________.” 

Jake squeezes his eyes shut. 

“Have you thought about giving her a chance?” he pushes. “She’s a lovely girl, really likes you.” 

That draws another huff of humorless laughter from Neteyam. 

“The only thing she’s interested in is status and being tsahik,” Neteyam scoffs. “There is nothing there.” 

Neytiri opens her mouth to say something, but Neteyam has mustered up as polite an excuse as he can as he stands to his feet and bows his head to his parents. 

When he ducks from the tent, he doesn’t expect to see you lingering outside of the exit.

His face morphs as the quiet words leave your lips. 

“You doubt my affections for you.” It’s a statement and a question wrapped in one, but you’re resigned, like always, and Neteyam can’t seem to grasp what you’re trying to get at clinging to him, to whatever this dynamic is. 

“What’s this game you’re playing?” he accuses, eyes narrowed. 

“What game?” you ask, gaze unfaltering as you stare up at him with those round golden eyes. 

He lets out a frustrated sigh. 

“Our entire lives, from being kids to now, you’ve toyed with me,” he says fiercely. “With this idea of us. Why? I’ve given you no reasons to be fond of me, yet you’re always here, there, everywhere.” 

“I have much to be fond of,” is your simple answer and Neteyam could groan in frustration. 

“Like what? Being the olo’eyktan’s son? Holding the future of this clan in my hands?” he asks sharply. 

“I would love you, circumstances withstanding,” you respond. “You don’t have to be afraid.” 

Love. 

What an odd concept, weird. One that Neteyam can’t seem to wrap his mind around when it comes to you. Doesn’t think he ever will. 

“Afraid of what?” he bites. 

“Of loving me back,” you say. 

He grimaces like the very thought disgusts him, like you’re an aversion he desperately wants to rid of. And perhaps you are, you realize, seeing years of pent up frustration and anger culminating into one big wound ready to rupture. 

“You think I love you?” he asks incredulously. 

He doesn’t miss the way you shrink, blinking quickly. 

“If you gave us a chance, maybe,” you whisper.

It sounds like the conversation with his parents all over again and realization seems to shutter across his features as he looks down at you. 

“How long have you known?” 

“Known what?” you ask quietly. 

“How long have you known that they’re trying to force us to be together?” he asks. 

You’re silent for a moment before muttering something under your breath. 

“What?” he snaps.

“They aren’t forcing us,” you clear your throat. “Not me, at least.” 

He scoffs. 

“Of course,” he mocks. “Because it only matters what you want out of this. Not that for the last decade I’ve been trying to get you to back off, trying to get you to understand that I don’t want this. I don’t want us, and if it means forfeiting my responsibilities, then so be it.” 

It’s a lofty statement, one that seals the last nail on your coffin. 

You’d loved Neteyam for as long as you can remember, have probably liked him for longer. When your parents told you early on that Eywa had given both of your families a sign that you and Neteyam were meant for one another, you’d embraced the idea wholeheartedly. Loved the idea of loving him even through moments when he’d try to drive a wedge between the two of you. 

Give him time, your parents had said to you. Jake and Neytiri want his feelings to develop naturally. 

And you waited. God, you waited, for so long. Waited for him to come around, to realize the things he did to you. Perhaps you had been too presumptuous, thinking that he’d be able to read you behind such a stoic facade, afraid that if you revealed too much of your wanting, you’d turn him off from the idea of being with you. 

But as you stand here before him, small under such a burning gaze, you realize that it’d been wishful thinking. Choosing him meant nothing if he didn’t choose you back. 

“I see…” you trail off quietly.

“Do you?” he asks, tone facetious. 

You nod once, unable to meet his gaze. Unable to see that his expression twitches the tiniest amount when he clocks the way your body seems to deflate.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I do.” 

His following days are quiet, filled with personal duties and commitments to the clan. He’d expected you to sleep off the night’s confrontation, he certainly had, a twinge of guilt searing his gut.

But you’re good at hiding, good at masking your feelings, good at disappearing. It doesn’t bother him at the beginning, figuring that you need your space, but then it’s a dull ache that ebbs into a grating gnaw as his every other thought flits to you and what you could be doing now that you’ve settled such a wide distance between himself and his family. 

“You are injured a lot more these days,” Mo’at observes, slathering the viscous mixture over a cut between his shoulder blades. 

He remains silent, doesn’t know how to admit that he’d been far more reckless these past few days in the hopes that he’d run into you in his grandmother’s quarters. A silent yearn to feel your skilled fingers work over his wounds, tender as you try to pry your way into his heart. 

Mo’at had been the one you spent the most time with, diligently training in the chance that Neteyam would finally see you, would make you his. But right now, you’re nowhere to be found and all he’s rewarded with is his grandmother’s rough hands and inquisitive gaze.

“She made this salve,” Mo’at says, filling the silence with idle talk. “Found a recipe that speeds healing and softens the skin.” 

“Did she?” Neteyam responds absently, imagining you picking and pruning the herbs yourself, frame languid as you move through the brush. 

“Said she didn’t want her lover to have such tough skin.” 

There’s laughter in his grandmother’s voice, but he can’t find it in himself to see the humor in the situation. Not when he’s beginning to see that maybe he’s not just another rung in the ladder for you, that duty is the most miniscule drop in your bucket.  

“Where’s ________?” he asks after a moment, hissing through his teeth when his grandmother’s fingers prod the wound. 

“Taking a break from her studies to assist Ama with the children,” she answers, and he misses the knowing look in her eyes. She pats his shoulder when she’s done patching him up. “She’s a fine young woman, Neteyam. Many of the villagers do not turn a blind eye to that fact. If she is not the one that your heart desires, give her the opportunity to align with one that does.” 

It makes something ugly, green, roil in the pit of his stomach at the idea of you being the subject of houndish eyes. You’re too reserved, too sweet, too devoted to be anyone else’s. 

And the thought floors him, makes the knot growing obnoxiously in his throat choke the air from his lungs. 

“Yeah,” he agrees in a whisper. 

And he knows that his grandmother is right. Knows that he shouldn’t be asking about you, doesn’t have the right to hold you hostage if the union is something that truly unsettles him. But the thought of letting go of whatever the two of you have is surprisingly indigestible. 

Neteyam is frustrated, thoroughly disoriented now that all he can think of is you. He’d tried everything under the sun to shake you, to get you to throw your cards in first, but now that you have, it’s like you tug on a string tethered to his hellish heart. 

He stands to his feet and turns to face Mo’at, giving a respectful nod before exiting the tent. 

It’s wrong, he knows it, seeking you out after burning every bridge between the two of you, but he can’t help it. Can’t help but enter the clearing in the forest carved through with a stream that the little ones play in. 

You’re exactly where his grandmother had said you were, sitting near the edge of the bubbling waters with Ama, a girl a few years your senior. The children are giggling, laughing as they splash each other, splash you. The expression on your face falters a little, stern as you adjust the netting strapped to your chest. 

The air is trapped in his lungs as he realizes. Sees the little head that peeks from the top of the fabric, ear pressed to your heart as you cover the baby’s head from the children’s gleeful laughter. 

“That’s not very nice,” you say gently. “Your little sister is trying to sleep.” 

Your voice makes the hairs on the back of his neck prick, a soft rasp that’s haunted him for the last few sleepless nights. It’s odd, seeing you in this light, relaxed from your lack of duties. You’re in your element like this, smiling and coddling the children of the clan as they climb over you and poke and prod. 

“Teyam!” One of them clocks him before he can retreat and his spine is going stiff, stomach turning when he sees the way your expression melts. 

“Hi,” he greets simply, unable to form anything more solid in the fears that he’ll spook you. 

The kids start emerging from the stream one by one, surrounding him as he takes a few tentative steps into the clearing. 

“Neteyam,” Ama greets cordially, eyes flitting between the two of you as you busy yourself with the little one strapped to your chest. 

Neteyam, on the other hand, can’t keep his eyes off of you. He’s silently pleading with Eywa, with whatever other force lies out of reach that you’ll just look at him. But you’re locked up tighter than a vault, obviously still reeling from the confrontation all those days ago. 

He hums your name, gentle like a prayer. Your eyes are hesitant, watching the snoozing baby in your arms before glancing at the remaining children in the stream before finally meeting his longing gaze. 

“Can we talk?” he asks you, flashing one of the curious kids a brief smile when they tug on the hem of his loincloth. 

Your response is far more blunt than he’d expected, taken aback when you murmur a firm, “No.”

He supposes that he deserves that, has earned the warmth that eclipses over his cheeks as the children watch the exchange with inquisitive eyes. And the way you stand to your feet to wrangle the village’s little ones is merited, telling them that playtime is over. 

But as Ama helps you gather their things, sensing the obvious tension between you and the olo’eyktan’s son, he realizes that he can’t just let this go. He won’t. Not without making things right, without telling you that loving you isn’t the hard part, it could never be. 

But agency is something his parents have withheld from him his entire life, molded him into being the perfect son that bends to the clan’s every beck and call. Loving you was just another thing to add to the list of things he did for everyone else’s sake but his own.

He sees now, though, sees that loving you, being in love with you isn’t a difficult feat. Not when he’s been given the smallest glance into what having a future could be like with you. Especially not when he’s learned so many things about you in the moments where you’re a fleeting plume of smoke that surrounds and chokes him all the same. 

He calls your name again, firm this time around. There’s a stutter in your step, he sees the way your shoulders draw taut with a labored sigh. 

You murmur something to Ama, undoing the ties to the netting that carries the dozing infant. Neteyam watches as you shush the kids, reminding them to be good to their tsmuke on their journey through the forest. 

Your fingers are gentle as you tie the last knot, brushing Ama’s shoulders lightly as you tell her you’ll catch up with her shortly. 

When they’re out of earshot, clambering back into the village circle, you turn on your heel, standing on the opposite side of the embankment. The glittering waters gurgle between the two of you as you wait patiently for Neteyam to muster his courage. 

“About our union,” he starts. “I–” 

“I’ve told my parents to forgo the preparations,” you say softly, seemingly unbothered as you pay more attention to the blades of grass that tickle your ankles. 

Neteyam’s spine stiffens.

“Why would you…” 

“You don’t want this,” you repeat his words from the fall out. “You don’t want us. We’ll both be unhappy.” 

It makes his heart squeeze. 

“You would be so unhappy in our union?” he scoffs, like he’s cracked the code. 

He doesn’t expect the humorless laugh that spills past your lips, obviously laden with tears when he focuses hard enough. 

“Of course I would, Neteyam,” you say fiercely, quietly. “I have spent so much of my life being so disgustingly in love with you when all you’ve wanted was me gone. Do you really think I’d let myself suffer at the expense of someone who would rather be alone than be forced to spend time with the likes of me.” 

You make it sound horrible. And perhaps it was, being so taken by someone who’s life mission was to sever every carefully stitched tie.

He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to tell you that he’s coming to terms with the fact that maybe he’s been gravely mistaken this entire time. 

“So have your freedom,” you say chillingly. “I surrender.” 

He’s closing the distance between the two of you, splashing through the shallow river to root you to place, fingers wrapped tightly around your elbow. 

You snatch away from his grasp, turning so sharply, he stumbles back. The pad of your finger pokes harshly into his chest, tear-filled eyes brimming as your gaze searches his face. 

“Don’t be heartless,” you hiss. “If there is one thing I will ask of you it is to leave me alone.” 

The distance between the two of you widens as you pluck your bow and quiver nearby and rush off into the brush, leaving Neteyam in the quieting clearing to allow the weight of your words sink to his bones. 

He doesn’t know how long he stands there, watching the same spot you’d disappeared past, but the forest is beginning to glow and he should be home soon. 

The entire encounter puts him on edge as he climbs through the foliage, moving over fallen logs and blooming flora. His muscles are taut, shoulders tight as he maps the long route back home.

It’s only when a sudden crack in the distance sounds that he becomes aware of how still the forest seems around him, like there are eyes and ears watching his every move. 

A look in the sky reveals a darkening swathe of midnight, leaves gleaming from outstretched branches. As he surveys his surroundings, his ears prick, picking up the most minute of sounds, rhythmic against the dense grass. 

His hand is on his dagger in an instant, eyes wild as he holds his breath. The pulse is nearing, almost insignificant against the backdrop of nature’s call, but something isn’t right and it makes nausea stir in his stomach. 

He blinks once, twice, before something closes over his mouth and a body seems to fuse against his back. 

“It’s me.” Your voice is ragged, hushed against the shell of his ear, and he nearly melts, fingers loosening from around the hilt of his knife. 

“I–” 

“Don’t speak,” you warn. “They are near.” 

He tenses again as you move your bodies behind a curtain of green, off the trodden path. 

“There are five of them,” you whisper and he shivers something fierce. “Two down, three on foot.” 

After years of training from his father, he knows who they are. 

“How did you…why do you–” 

“You didn’t return to the village,” you hiss. 

His heart skips a beat, thrumming because even if you’d been angry at him, you’d noticed his absence. Had gone looking for him, even. He turns to face you, wants to tell you that he’d do anything to make things right, but he realizes that now’s not a good time. 

You’re pale, gravely so, a feral look in your eyes as you grasp at your left side. 

Blood. You’re bleeding. 

“What the fuck?” 

“Stop,” you breathe shakily. “Not now.” 

“________, you’re wounded!” he protests. 

You slap a hand over his mouth, golden eyes widening as you press closer to him. 

He takes the opportunity to peer over your shoulder in pursuit of an exit wound and sighs when he finds the skin still intact. 

“You’re hurt,” he tries again, grabbing the wrist clutching your side. 

You shake your head vehemently. 

“Stop it, Neteyam,” you plead hoarsely. “We need to get rid of them before they find the village.” 

You’re right, he realizes, swallowing down the lump in his throat as he notes the tremble of your lip and the furrow between your brows. 

“Okay,” he swallows, nodding hesitantly. “Okay.” 

“Near the Tree of Souls,” you tell him, knees shaky as you draw an arrow and load your bow. 

You creep forward slowly, willowy frame shielding Neteyam as you move through the forest. 

He barely notices, only sees it when you pause a moment too long, body twitching as the bow quivers in your loosening grasp. 

“________?” Neteyam’s voice is testing, closing the berth. 

Your bow lowers, fingers brushing over the wound once again. When you assess the wetness of the pads of your fingers, Neteyam’s able to get a good look at the damage. 

His eyes widen, grabbing your shoulders tightly when he sees that your eyes are drooping. 

“Wait,” he says sharply. “Don’t—”

Your bloody hand brushes his chin. 

“Make sure…make sure they are…” 

“She must rest.” 

“It will only be for a moment.” 

The words slur together, distant and muddy as your eyes flicker open to assess your surroundings. 

“Maite, you are awake.” Your mother kneels next to you, expression a picture of harrowing concern. “Oh, Eywa, I’m glad you are awake.” 

It returns in waves, like the ebb and flow of water dousing you. The enemy, in bodies like your own, ruthless to creatures both gentle and roaring. Clothed like humans with gear so imposing, you nearly shrunk with such a small bow and only enough arrows to make each shot count. 

You’d taken out two of them with shaky hands before their hailing bullets pierced the trunks of trees and left gaping holes in the leaves. One had landed, lodged its way right above the left side of your pelvis. 

It aches as you sit up, seeing the aftermath of what must have been a grisly extraction. 

“Stop, stop,” your mother says quickly, hands on your shoulders to guide you back. “You will disturb Mo’at’s work.” 

“There are more of them,” you rush. “They are–” 

“Shh, my child,” she coaxes. “They are gone.” 

It had been a horrific sight, seeing Neteyam carrying you back to the village, limp and listless, covered in the blood of multiple parties with a nearly animalistic look in his eye. 

“Where is Neteyam?” you whisper, lashes wet. 

The look on your mother’s face softens with pity, knowing, as she sees it written all over your face. 

She’d known it before and she’d known it after you approached her and your father with the request to call off the union. 

I don’t love him, you’d said, unable to meet their eyes as you confessed. Eywa���s made a mistake with us. I want to be with someone that I love.

You’d been embarrassed, wanted to save face. You didn’t want them to know that the only man you’d ever known from adolescence to young adulthood hadn’t wanted a thing to do with you. 

“I’m here.” 

Neteyam’s entering the tent with your father hot on his heels, obviously defying his wishes to leave you be. 

His forearm is wrapped in medicinal leaves, tied off with thin vine. A cut slices his brow bone, the wound still red and raw. 

“I told you–” 

Your mother shoots your father a contemptuous look before turning to you to smooth some of the hair away from your face. 

“Eywa makes no mistakes, Maite,” she whispers, gaze pleading. 

She’s on her feet, crossing the tent to meet Neteyam half way. With a comforting squeeze to his shoulder, she pushes your protesting father through the hide and suddenly the air is shrouded in silence save for your labored breathing and the weight of the eldest Sully’s gaze. 

“I thought I lost you,” Neteyam says, the tiniest inflection of trembling pricking your ears. 

You blink, watching as he stands at the end of the mat. He’s fidgeting but his eyes are searing, shaking with tears as he stares at you unblinking—like you’ll disappear between the shutter of his heavy eyelids. 

You don’t know what to say, the lump lodged in your throat far too thick for you to form coherent words around. 

Neteyam continues for the both of you. 

“I thought that I wouldn’t…that I…” 

You watch as he crumbles. 

“Wouldn’t what?” you finally ask, voice dry. 

“I thought that I wouldn’t be able to give us a chance.” 

Your jaw tenses, breaking eye contact first as you shake your head in defeat. 

“There isn’t an us,” you sigh shakily. “Said so yourself.” 

“Oh, come on,” Neteyam scoffs, voice thick with tears. “Don’t do that.” 

“Do what?” you argue, clutching your injured side as it pulses with every beat of your thundering heart. 

“Don’t—don’t give up on me yet,” he whispers. “Please.” 

Your expression crumples and his face falls as you knuckle your tears away angrily. 

“You’re cruel, Neteyam. So so cruel,” you murmur. “I am ashamed that you have my heart.” 

The words are spoken with a quiet vindication that makes Neteyam feel like his nerve endings are fraying. A singular tear arcs over the swell of your cheek and an ache roots in his gut. 

“Don’t say that,” he says, throat bobbing as he swallows the emotion threatening to bubble over. “I–” 

“Neteyam.” Your father’s voice is stern, the flap of the tent flipping as he reenters. 

Neteyam bites the inside of his lip as he spares you one last glance and your resolve dissipates when the broad expanse of his back faces you. 

You’d expected Neteyam taking his leave to be some semblance of closure for the two of you, as clean of a break as you could come to terms with now that any precarious ties that bound the two of you were severed. But you hadn’t anticipated the singular ember inside of Neteyam fanning to be engulfing and all-consuming. 

“I know you’re there,” you say simply, plucking the petals and leaves from the flora to tuck into the small pouch strung across your chest. 

He’d been following you all afternoon, lingering a safe distance away, but his eyes haven’t left your healing frame and what had initially been confusion began to bleed into annoyance. 

“Pay me no mind,” he says simply, emerging from the brush with a bow and quiver.

It’s been over a week since the sky people had infiltrated your corner of the forest and Neteyam hasn’t let you leave his sight once.

From the morning eclipse to the evening’s, Neteyam’s doted on you; shearing chunks of fruit, grinding down your herbs for your treatments, rewrapping your wound under Mo’at’s careful supervision. 

You’d asked him to give you a moment of peace in the forest alone, but it wasn’t long before you scented him, heard his labored breathing as he tried to keep up with you. 

You heed his word, stonewalling his presence like he’s nothing but another leaf stretching from the trees. And for a while, a long stretch of silence surrounds the two of you as you venture deeper and deeper into the forest. 

But before you know it, each one of your steps is exchanged like for like, his looming and muscular frame eclipsing you like a shadow as you try to ignore the fact that he’s drawing nearer. 

You turn on your heel to face him just as he settles a pace away, eyes clear and golden. 

“What?” you snip, taking a step back. 

He takes a step forward. 

“You should not overexert yourself,” he replies simply. 

“And what happened to paying you no mind?” 

His fingers brush your sore wound and your gaze flits to the way his fingertips ghost over the dressing wrapped around the expanse of your lower abdomen. 

The grin he gives you has many layers. You immediately decipher something sly, coy, as he searches your face. 

“I’ve changed my mind,” he says quietly. “I want you to pay me all the mind.” 

Your expression is dry, eyes rolling as you step away from him. You’re swatting his palm away and shaking your head like a final warning. 

“You don’t get to flirt with me after all this time,” you say, blanketing the semi-tense air with a cover of finality. “And you shouldn’t. There is no longer an obligation for us to be within vicinity of each other.” 

You sound so cold, like you hadn’t spent the past decade pining after him in your own weird way. Like you hadn’t turned a blind eye when he found comfort in hopeful women despite wearing your heart on your oddly-stitched sleeve. Hadn’t been so willing to spend forever with him.

“You cannot dictate the turn of my heart,” Neteyam argues. 

The look you give him could instill fear in even the most intimidating predators. 

“You’d go to great lengths to quell a guilty conscience?” you ask. “Do not forget that forever is a long time. If nothing about our union piques your interest now, do not count on anything in the future.” 

You’re feeling for buttons to push, tender spots that will make him let up, but Neteyam isn’t easily swayed. He doesn’t know if he loves you now, but the last few weeks make certain that he will. He isn’t ashamed to admit that he’s falling fast and hard.  

“You’re not gonna get rid of me that easily, yawne.” 

The nickname makes you freeze, makes your eyes narrow as you glare up at the future olo’eyktan. 

“Don’t be insufferable, Neteyam.” 

“Duties be damned, I’ll spend every remaining moment doing right by you,” he says, fingers threading through yours so that he can bring your knuckles to his lips. 

Your heart wavers and he sees the way the curtain falls, eyes a fraction softer. 

He grins, tugging you closer. Moves your hair over your shoulder then skims his fingers along the sharpness of your jaw. 

It draws a shiver from you as you shift nervously, gaze fluttering from his eyes to the plush of his mouth. 

“Stop,” you whisper meekly. “We–”

“You’re mine, you hear me?” His voice is raw, edge melting away. “Union or no union. It’s always going to be you and me.” 

neng © 2023

taglist: @nao-cchi , @jkiminpark , @philiasoul , @amart-e , @s-u-t , @netesbby , @tayswiftlovebot , @dumb-fawkin-bitch , @ewackmn , @fanboyluvr , @mazemymirror , @itssiaaax , @girlpostingsposts, @athenachu , @hiya-itsamber , @morks-watermelon 

[usopps-goggles]

Mha Guys And Their Love Languages Pt.1

———————————————————

Featuirng: Izuku Midoriya, Katsuki Bakugo, Shoto Todoroki, Eijirou Kirishima, Keigo Takami (Hawks), Shouta Aizawa! —————————————————————————————

I.Midoriya: ���Words Of Affirmation•

he loves encouraging and motivating others so it’s no surprise he gets all warm and fuzzy inside when the roles are reversed and your the one peppering him with motivational words letting him know what a good job he’s doing even if it’s something small, whisper sweet nothings in his ear and you have this boy on his knees. after all he’s been through with being told he’ll never make it as a hero being quirkless and what not having someone by his side to tell him that he is worthy and can do it makes his heart swell.

K.Bakugo: •Acts Of Service• bakugo isn’t the best at expressing himself verbally so he shows you he cares instead, you need help with dishes? he might fake pout and say your more than capable of doing it yourself but helps you with relatively no complaints, left your bag at home? he’s already dashing down the block . in turn he likes when you reciprocate the same for him wether it’s helping him train, or carrying his bag for him when his muscles get tired.

S.Todoroki: •Quality Time•

coming from a family as broken as his he’d never really experienced spending time with people he’d cared about other than his classmates so when you waltzed into his life he’d like to spend every moment possible doing stuff with you wether it’s watching TV, feeding the ducks at the lake, or eating takoyaki he’s just happy to bask in your presence and enjoy each others company.

E.Kirishima: •Acts Of Service• he’s a high believer in chivalry so it makes sense that in a relationship he tries to be the most chivalrous of them all! opening doors, fetching you things, getting stuff off the top shelf for you this man does.it.all! though in turn he loves it when you do the same for him, prepared to be called ‘so manly’ regardless of your gender.

K.Takami: •Quality Time• let’s face it, being a pro hero is stressful especially if you’re number 2, so after long hours of patrolling keigo thinks there's nothing better than spending quality time with his partner. with you his facade can drop and he can just be and he adores that most, so expect a lot of lazy days in bed when he’s not on duty and lounging around his hero agency -when he has a rare break- playing a dumb mobile game together.

S.Aizawa: •Quality Time• sleepy boy just lovessss spending time with his S/O and what better way than napping with him after a long day of teaching? or perhaps indulging in book together you nestled in his lap like a cat. quality time together is uhow he shows he cares even if he may be away teaching during the day, when he comes home for the night he’s all yours! (if he doesn’t fall asleep right away that is!

[nyashykyunnie]

˗ˏˋ Yandere! Sung Jinwoo x Best Friend! Reader ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕁𝕚𝕟𝕨𝕠𝕠˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

・┆✦ Entry : 024 ✦ ┆・

‼️[ TW: stalking, obsession, gaslighting(?), gore, body horror, BLOOD, yandere Jinwoo au ]

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅ Cai Bot Link ♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

╰┈�� ❝ [ Wherever you go, I'm always right there even if you try to hide ] ¡! ❞

"You're just imagining things" Jinwoo says, his nonchalant grey eyes glancing up at you. "You just don't sleep enough."

That's what he always says whenever you rant about the nagging feeling of several eyes watching you.

And you, being the stupid fool that you are— Believed his words.

Jinwoo is a smart and logical person, he's always able to make things just make sense.

So you never really questioned anything whenever he drops his opinion.

But of course, your instincts were never really wrong in the first place.

The itching terror crawling beneath your skin whenever you're alone, the weird chills tickling your spine when you walk in a dark place— It wasn't just your imagination.

The culprit?

He's staring right at right your face with those casual grey orbs.

Jinwoo has placed a bunch of shadows to trail you around, ten maybe 20,... Maybe. Who knows how many he has really placed?

Oh but one thing was for sure, there's at least two of his most powerful line of shadows safeguarding you.

Their duties were two simple orders: Make sure you are safe and sound and eliminate all forms of danger.

Eliminate All Forms Of Danger.

Sure, it could be just some bugs you're terrified of, or making sure you dont come across any dangerous plants along your way.

But their most important task was to murder anyone who tried too hard to come close.

Jinwoo was normally level-headed, he can take seeing you talking to someone else for at least 2 minutes, 5 when he's in a really good mood.

Past ten?

Hah.

'That fucker better start counting his hours' was the only thing ringing inside Jinwoo's head.

He was a jealous man, he'd be quiet but his gaze would grow darker. His ebony locks hovering over his steely gaze, his tongue pushing his inner cheek out as he tries to hold his temper, his foot tapping the floor impatiently as he counts the seconds the bastard went pass ten minutes.

78 seconds.

Jinwoo counted exactly 78 seconds when the conversation finished and your attention would return to him.

Immediately, that hard expression on him would go gentle.

He became quite the actor no thanks to you. jinwoo doesn't want you to have a peek of what he truly is as a person.

Though you were best friends, Jinwoo was a bit handsy with you. Just a bit.

His fingers lightly brushing against your fingers, your cheeks, mostly your ears actually.

Why?

Everyone reacts a certain way when their ear gets tickled.

And he reveled in the shudders and yelps you give him whenever he teases you.

The more you gave him your many expressions, the more and more he drowns in the black hole that is you.

Whatever you do, even the littlest things, his instincts would suddenly go haywire.

Mostly he wants to cherish you, pamper you, baby you like the adorable thing that you are.

Other times? Jinwoo wants to break you apart. Watch you sob, wrists bound, legs incapable of moving— He wanted to imprison you in the land of eternal death. Have you rot in his domain where he wouldn't worry about anyone or anything else breathing the same air as you other than him.

He wanted to love you and break you, and he knew that well. Jinwoo knew of his adoration and destructiveness when it comes to loving you.

You were really like a black hole, sucking him into the void and drowning him in a sea of emotions he never can quite understand.

Perhaps the system had really screwed him up in the head.

The pressure of being a monarch, of protecting this world, of being a vessel of war for several years— He had become twisted and completely paranoid to the point that he just wants control on everything.

And he wanted complete control of you too.

But he stopped himself, several times, he stopped himself.

Jinwoo tried to cut himself off of your life, to delete your memories of him.

But whenever he tried to he could never do it.

Everytime he did, he would just get frustrated and never finish the job.

The more he tries, the deeper he falls into the abyss that is you.

And now here he is,...

Alone in an alleyway, with the beating rain above his head, the water droplets gently dripping off of his black locks. His hand was bloodied as he held the head he had brutally ripped off of the bastard that dared to go pass the ten minute limit. The mangled corpse on the floor had organs spilling out with exactly 78 cuts on it's skin so deep it must have sliced the bone too.

And just like always, you're a witness to this hell.

Scream, cry, throw up— Whatever you do, you would just draw an amused smirk on Jinwoo's handsome features.

His lips would scrunch up on one side, his eyes glowing an ominous color of monarch violet as he lightly tips his head to one side. The stench of blood permeates through the air as the crimson liquid pooled and spread along with the puddles beneath your feet. Everything was now much more terrifying than what it was earlier

You wanted to run, you were afraid of whatever demon that is in front of you.

But Jinwoo wouldn't give you that chance, after all, he is suddenly in front of you— Right at your face.

His eyes were so out of it even though they are focused on yours.

The blood splatters on him was bone-chilling and sickening and yet somehow it made him more handsome.

Jinwoo is always wearing an empty and bored gaze, and yet somehow this psychotic side of him was alluring and dreamy.

Like a fragrant poison you knew would kill but attracted you even still.

"Sssh" Jinwoo purrs sweetly, cradling your face with one hand and then lightly kissing your lips for a short while. "I only did what I needed to do."

" You just listen to me like you always did and forget this ever happened like we've always done"

Forget? Forget how—

Suddenly, your body would go limp and he would catch you. An arm gently wrapped around your waist as he cradles your sleeping form.

Jinwoo would chuckle, pressing another light kiss on your lips,... then your forehead, your temple, your cheek, and once again your lips.

He held the kiss a little while longer.

He loved that expression on your face to be honest, how it scrunch up in terror and disgust. How you would pale oh-so immediately that he can't help but be giddy and want to kiss your pretty little face over and over— Smothering you like the lovely little thing you are.

He has done this so many times.

First, it was some people getting too close.

Second, it was your friends.

Third, these random people who would talk to you for more than ten minutes.

Time and time again, he would bloody his hands for selfish reasons.

Jinwoo wants to be the apple of your eye just as you are to him.

After all, he lovingly placed a legion of shadows in you so that he could watch you the second you are away from his physical body.

"God, I love you so much" He'd whisper, his lips against your hair as he inhales your scent in.

. . . . . . . . .

"Hey," Jinwoo casually greets you the next morning at school, your cute expression in a complete daze from having your memories wiped once again the night prior. "It's a long weekend after today, how about I take you out to dinner?"

ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .｡✧･ﾟ: ~♡ —! stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.

[originalaccountname]

Mori Ougai’s belief as the boss is [...] “The boss stands on top of the organization, and at the same time, be the slave of all.” For the sake of the organization, the boss must always take the “logical optimal solution.” That is the duty of the boss. [...] “Therefore, no matter how much your heart aches, you have to ignore your personal feelings.”

Kafka Asagiri, for the BSD exhibition

On Mori and regret.

This man acts based on his perceived "optimal solution". It means relying on cold logic, detached from (his own and others') emotions. In that way, he fits right in as one of the smart characters of BSD, contrasting for example Dazai's way of working with/around people's feelings, and Fyodor's way of manipulating and twisting those feelings into monsters.

Mori remains cold, logical, distant, efficient. It meant disregarding Yosano's and the soldiers' deteriorating mental health during the war because the concept of an army that cannot be wiped out was too good. It meant following Natsume's plan and taking the old boss' place himself to fix Yokohama's underground and protect the city and its people. It also meant disposing of Mimic by sacrificing Oda in order to get the special ability business permit, despite (and perhaps because of) Dazai's attachment to the man.

The thing is, humans are not logical creatures, and will inevitably encounter conflicting emotions.

(does this look like the face of a man without regrets to you?)

Mori in Dark Era tried to pass on to Dazai his practice of putting aside his own feelings for the sake of choosing the most efficient solution that will benefit the group. It backfired spectacularly, so much so even, that Mori regrets it to this day.

For the BSD exhibition, Asagiri wrote some individual character commentaries, all very interesting insights into their characters and the writing intentions. For Mori, here's what he wrote:

“He who fell out of the optimal solution” Mori Ougai’s belief as the boss is described in the novel “Dark Era” and “Dazai, Chuuya, Fifteen”. That is “The boss stands on top of the organization, and at the same time, be the slave of all.” For the sake of the organization, the boss must always take the “logical optimal solution.” That is the duty of the boss. There is an unspoken additional point to it. “Therefore, no matter how much your heart aches, you have to ignore your personal feelings.” We can catch a glimpse of that in this scene. [the ADA-PM alliance meeting] Mori’s expressions after “Burnt it.” and “Like what you did to your predecessor”, gave us a glimpse of his true feelings that were made sacrifices for the sake of the “logical optimal solution”. (By the way, it goes without saying that Dazai is inducing Mori’s thoughts by words that will make him regret the past. It is to make him decide to form an “alliance”.) source and translation: Popopretty

(notice the inclusion of Hirotsu in this scene. Remember that later, Hirotsu suggests that Dazai knows why Mori did what he did to overthrow the old boss, which, in my opinion, is both a proof of Dazai's support in Mori's goal, and a reminder to uphold it.)

One of my favourite parts of the Dark Era light novel is a small scene during the epilogue that was not adapted into the anime. This is two weeks after Dazai defected:

To quote Asagiri again, "Therefore, no matter how much your heart aches, you have to ignore your personal feelings." Mori is conflicted about the outcome of the Mimic incident. He holds in his hands the Silver Oracle he himself gave to Oda, and reflects on its purpose: to "help the man mentioned above without hesitation in the face of any and all trials". Didn't he fail to do just that with Oda? Didn't he set him up and sent him to his doom? Didn't he abandon him to his trial?

But he rationalizes the events by saying he got the permit they so badly needed. No matter if he sacrificed one of his men. No matter if he drove Dazai away. He accomplished his priceless goal. It was a total success.

And yet, he poorly folds a paper airplane with the very Silver Oracle he gave Oda, throws it, watches it crash immediately, and mourns the loss of his right-hand man, without ever moving on.

But we have a direct example of Mori expressing regret.

The perception that Mori in BEAST is a completely different character than Mori is in canon, when that perception doesn't extend to any other character from that universe, rubs me the wrong way. The characters in BEAST are very similar to their canon selves, with some core traits getting a new twist. They are all one or two major life changes away from becoming these versions of themselves. As far as we know, Mori's only life-altering event was being forcefully removed from the Port Mafia by Dazai, and secretly put in charge of Atsushi's old orphanage.

Mori unambiguously made that orphanage a better place, as stated by Atsushi himself. BEAST!Mori is a lot softer, vulnerable and honest. That Mori offers to be a father to Atsushi while he heals. He also expresses regret in not being able to help Dazai when he was in his care.

I think it's very interesting, especially when knowing that Asagiri wrote both BEAST and Fifteen at the same time for the Dead Apple movie, because in Fifteen we have this:

The beginning of the first chapter of Fifteen is a gold mine. It is narrated from Mori's point of view, the man of logic and calculations, and yet it is full of doubt. He is alone and struggling to fix everything with so many people against him. But, throughout this scene about grasping at the Port Mafia's power, there is also this secondary thought being woven in, of Mori having started to actually care for Dazai.

The teenager is scary to him, smart enough to be a threat should he decide to be done with all this and turn against him, and yet, he immediately (and with a hint of sadness) finds that Dazai reminds him of himself. This lonely, lonely man found a kindred spirit, bright enough to grasp any situation in seconds and prone to using an uncomfortable obsession to divert and keep you guessing his true intentions. Mori entered Mentor Mode™ then. He taught Dazai his ways, he shared his struggles and thought process, he fought tooth and nail to keep him alive.

So when he asked Dazai why he wanted to die, it was with the concern of someone who has started to care. It was with the mind of someone who is trying to prevent the worst by fixing the problem at its source.

(translation: Reneray)

But it's also that self-projection/ability to relate that made him drive Dazai away, when he pushed too hard and forced Dazai to adhere to his optimal solution philosophy. Because Dazai cannot separate himself from his attachments, could not ignore his emotions like Mori does, and chose Oda over Mori's logic. From Dazai's point of view, that was betrayal. Mori and him were accomplices!

Dazai planted the idea that Mori was afraid of him taking over as boss, and Mori seems to agree with that thought (would it be because he feared for his life, or for Dazai's ability to replace him?) Yet, for a man afraid of his closest subordinate backstabbing him, he seems to be hanging on quite hard to the possibility of Dazai coming back, leaving his seat open to this day, inviting him back twice in the same arc, and...

(yeah I used this picture at the start too. "I hAvE nO rEgReTs" he says)

Mori may try to convince himself he feels no regrets and no guilt over his own actions by weighting gains and losses objectively, but he still hurts and has a very hard time moving on. He's human despite his best efforts, prone to mistakes and doubts. He's lonely and wishes to impart his knowledge onto others. His cold logic has both helped him in fixing the city, and alienated him from some of the people he most cared about.

In a similar vein, should the ADA employee transfer be of topic again, and should Mori clash with Yosano again, I wish we get to see some similar conflicting emotions in Mori between the usefulness of Yosano's ability, and Yosano herself as a person. The war was 14 years ago, that's a long time, and I want to believe that counts for something.

[wtfwriter]

I Promise - Clarisse La Rue x F!Reader

Reader Age: 16-17

Reader Godly Parent: Poseidon

Synopsis: Reader has just returned from the Labyrinth onto a battlefield. In an adaptation of the Battle of the Labyrinth, the Reader is faced with their own internal battle and wonders if keeping their relationship with Clarisse a secret is truly worth it, as well as facing the realities of war and its implications for their little brother.

Word Count: 3197 (I had thoughts and suddenly there were words on a google document. I had nothing to do with this.)

Preface:

Some of the lines and dialogue are written directly or slightly changed lines from Rick Riordian’s novel “Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Battle of the Labyrinth.” Not all of this story is originally from me. Majority of these events happen in the order that they occur in the book with some minor tweaks

Also don’t ask me how the prophecy works here okay. I just think Percy deserves a big sister idk

I'm not 100% sure what age Clarisse is in this book, but google says she's about 16-17, so keep that in mind

================================================

Even if pegasi are like neutral territory between Zeus and Poseidon, I never would fully relax while flying on the back of one. I held on tightly to my pegasus the entire time, muttering apologies for my grip to her the whole time. It’s alright, boss, she told me. If you could just let up on my skin, that would be great. 

Once we landed in Camp Half-Blood, I dismounted, petting my pegasus’ snout and apologizing again until she turned with the rest of her friends back towards the stables. Once I turned towards everyone else, Percy seemed to have already shared our story with Chiron and Silenus was arguing with Grover about Pan.

I didn’t pay much attention to this. Not because I didn’t care, but because the lines of half-bloods around Zeus’ fist caught my eye first. I watched as every single half-blood seemed to fall into place, with the Hephaestus cabin maintaining their traps, Apollo and Hermes’ cabins ready with bows in the trees, and Aphrodite kids running around combing people’s hair and straightening their armor.

What I was truly looking for, however, was the Ares cabin, which I found exactly where I knew they would be: the front lines. I surveyed for the girl I had been aching to see since I had left camp, a time that seemed much longer than it probably was. My eyes eventually found her, barking orders at her siblings.

I watched Clarisse move across the lines, prepared for battle and preparing those that stood with her. My eyes moved wherever she moved, never letting up, as if they were people who had finally gotten their first sip of water after years in a desert. I was so focused on her movements, I barely noticed when she finally looked at me.

I wondered if anyone else was following her line of sight, or mine. I wondered if we held the same expressions on our faces. I wondered if anyone could figure out what we were saying.

I love you. I’m sorry we can’t talk right now. Not with what’s happening. Not with this many people around. I will find you after all of this is over.

I promise.

We nodded at each other, faces determined, before we both turned back to our respective duties. I watched as each of my friends dispersed to do what they had to: Annabeth with her siblings, Tyson with the Hephaestus kids, and Grover went over to Juniper.

“Both of you, stay with me,” Chiron spoke. “I want you to wait so we know what we are dealing with. You must go where we need reinforcements.”

Percy and I nodded at him. “I saw Kronos,” Percy suddenly said. “It was Luke.. but he wasn’t…”

“He had golden eyes, yes? To merge with a mortal body would be… arduous. I’m not sure how he could have merged with Luke’s form without it burning into ash,” Chiron wondered aloud.

I chimed in, “Kronos said he had prepared the body.”

“I fear what that can mean. Perhaps it will limit his power, being in a mortal form.”

“Chiron,” Percy’s voice was laced with worry. “What if Kronos is leading this attack?”

“He is not,” Chiron replied, incredibly sure. “I would sense if he was drawing near. I believe you have… inconvenienced him when you two pulled his throne room on top of him.” He paused. “You two and your friend Nico, son of Hades.”

Percy looked down at the ground as I spoke. “We know we should’ve told you. It’s just—”

“I understand why you did not tell me. You felt responsible. You sought to protect him. However, if we are to survive this, we must be able to trust each other. We must —”

Chiron was cut off by the sudden wavering of the Earth. I heard Clarisse yell, “Lock shields!”

Then the Titan Army was upon us.

At first, all I saw was the Laistrygonians. Beckendorf yelled orders to fire the catapults, one of which fired a boulder that took one of them down. Arrows flew through the air. Campers gathered to bring down the remaining giants. I watched as Clarisse yelled even more orders.

Just when it seemed we were winning, another wave came out of the Labyrinth, this time of dracaenae. They were completely covered with battle armor, carrying nets and spears. I watched as some fell into traps while others were battling with campers. I looked for Clarisse again, finding her in a locked fight with one of the reptilian women.

I thought about how unfair this all was. How we were all just kids. How we were forced into this war. How all of this hate and pain was caused by hunger for power. 

I thought about how badly I wanted to take Percy away from all of this. How every day I wanted to get him away from his prophecy. How I wanted more than anything for him to be a little kid again.

I thought about how much I wanted to do with Clarisse. How beautiful she was. How she never failed to be the person I could always return to. How she promised me the world and I promised her the universe and it was still less than the both of us deserved.

I thought about how different my life could be if we were brave enough to change it. Maybe being a half-blood wasn’t something we wanted or something we could change. But, we didn’t need to be hiding anymore. It all seemed so stupid now, in the face of life and death,

Suddenly, a hellhound burst out of the opening and Chiron was yelling. “GO!”

Percy and I ran towards the hellhound. All I could see was horrifically clear images in the midst of a blur. Past friends and siblings fighting on opposing sides. Monsters disintegrating whilst others yelled triumphantly. I watched as Nico summoned a dozen undead warriors in various army attire before crumbling to the floor.

“Nico!” I yelled.

“Go! I’ll get the hellhound. You make sure he’s okay!” Percy yelled, running off as I slowed down. I pivoted to Nico, getting on my knees beside him.

“You okay?” I yelled over the commotion of battle.

“Yeah…” he panted. “Go, there’s more of them. You need to help.”

I looked up and got my first full look at everything that was happening. At the gruesome sights of battle. I watched as campers defended their home, the one place they were meant to be safe. I nodded to Nico before getting up.

I almost started to run back where Percy had gone when I heard Grover. He and Juniper were desperately trying to stop a fire that was getting dangerously close to Juniper’s tree. I rushed over, seeing Percy do the same.

I wasn’t sure what to do and by the look on his face, Percy didn’t either. The closest water source was nearly half a mile away, and we didn’t have petrified seashells here. All we could do was concentrate, praying to Poseidon, until I felt a pull in my gut. Suddenly, a wall of water appeared through the trees, dousing the fire. I sighed in relief, glad at least one crisis was averted.

Suddenly, a screech filled the air, followed by the sound of loud flapping wings. Kampê shot into the sky from the labyrinth entrance. Her right hand carried Ariadne’s string until her belt of animal heads rotated to the lion. She stuck the string into the lion’s maw. Safe keeping, I suppose.

Kampê drew her twin swords, which seemed to be dripping with poison. Chiron sent an arrow through the sky towards her, which she sensed as she moved at the last moment. Campers started to run away in fear.

“No! Stay and fight!” Tyson yelled, before being promptly slammed to the ground by a hellhound. They went rolling away.

Kampê landed on the Athena tent and Percy and I ran after her. Annabeth appeared on Percy’s side.

“This might be it,” she said.

“Could be,” Percy replied.

“Okay… morbid,” I muttered under my breath, but neither of them seemed to hear me, or acted like they didn’t.

“Nice fighting with you, seaweed brain.”

“Ditto.”

We all rushed towards Kampê, who lashed at us with her swords. My eyes burned from the poison lacing the blades. My lungs couldn’t seem to fully fill with air.

“We need help!” I yelled.

But there was no one to help. Either each half-blood was locked in their own fight or was too afraid to move towards us.

“Now!” Annabeth yelled, and all three of us rushed in at different angles. But it wasn’t enough. Kampê’s belt of animals snapped at me and I went back trying to not get bitten. 

Suddenly, I was on my back, ears ringing and head spinning. I couldn’t breathe due to a heavy weight. I opened my eyes to see Kampê’s leg on my chest, Percy pinned under the other, and Annabeth thrown off to the side, dazed and not getting up. Kampê raised her sword and I realized this was it. I prayed that Percy would get a fair judgement from the council in the Underworld, that they hadn’t all been bought out by Kronos.

Suddenly, a whirl of black pounced onto Kampê, throwing her off of us and I gasped for air.

“Good girl!” Daedalus called after her. I turned my head and watched as he slashed down monsters, followed closely behind by a friendly face… and many hands.

“Briares!” Tyson called excitedly.

“Hail, little brother!” Briares bellowed back. “Stand firm!”

Briares took up a boulder in nearly each hand, throwing them at Kampê, piling them around her. She was encased within her own makeshift monument taller than Zeus’ fist. By the time he was done, the only evidence that there was an ancient monster inside was from the twin swords still poking out between the stones.

The rocks shifted slightly, slotting into place.

Before I could celebrate that victory, I heard commotion over to the side. I turned just in time to watch Chiron get knocked down from his hind legs, laying on his side. I tried my best to get up, ignoring the ache in my chest from Kampê’s attack. 

As suddenly as I had gotten up to start running towards Chiron, I was back on my knees, covering my ears. The shrill sound seemed to come out of nowhere until I looked over at Grover. His mouth open wide, he seemed to have infinite lung capacity as the sound continued.

The enemies seemed to think better than to stick around after that. I watched dracaenae put down their weapons and sprint towards the labyrinth entrance. I watch laestrygonians rush towards the entrance right after them. More and more of the armies retreated until eventually they all seemed to have gone back underground.

Once the screeching had stopped, the sudden stillness in the air was agonizing. All I could hear was my own breathing as I heaved, still trying to recover from the previous heaviness crushing my lungs. I eventually pushed myself up and grabbed one of Annabeth’s arms with Percy.

I ran with the other two over to Chiron and kneeled in front of him.

“Are you alright? What can I do?”

“Nothing. This is embarrassing,” Chiron chuckled. “Thankfully, we don’t shoot centaurs with broken legs. I’ll be alright eventually.”

“Let me get someone from the medic tent,” Annabeth rushed, already standing up before Chiron stopped her.

“No need, Annabeth. There are far more severe injuries.”

“Guys!” I whipped my head to look for the source of the voice. “Come quick! It’s Nico.”

I shot up, running over to the black heap on the floor. I’d forgotten about him after the intense battle. Dammit.

I got down next to him, looking at his sweaty face. I grabbed his ice cold hands for a pulse.

“He needs nectar! Quickly!” Percy yelled. One of the Ares campers quickly came over with the bottle as I propped Nico up as best as I could onto my knee. Percy dribbled some of the liquid into his mouth. I let out a sigh of relief as he stirred.

“Gods, Nico. I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

The boy coughed slightly before nodding. “Never tried to summon so many at once before. I’ll be okay.” He turned his head to look beside me. “Daedalus.”

I looked over at the man as Mrs. O’Leary loomed behind him, licking his wounds that were leaking oil. Freaky.

Percy and Daedalus spoke as I tried to convince Nico to rest for a moment. Of course, he refused. I shook my head at him. “One day, you'll have to stop being so stubborn,” I told him.

He rolled his eyes, but smiled slightly. “Bianca would say the same thing. I’ll stop when it doesn’t work for me anymore.”

“But Daedalus,” Percy said. “Even without the string, Kronos’ army still has a way into camp.”

“You’re right,” Daedalus sighed. “As long as the Labyrinth is here, your enemies can use it. And so, the labyrinth can no longer continue.”

Annabeth stepped forward. “But, you said the Labyrinth was connected to you. If the labyrinth’s gone –”

“Yes, Annabeth. I too will be gone. And so, I have a present for you.”

Daedalus removed his satchel from his back and pulled out his laptop, engraved with a greek delta, and handed it to Annabeth. “That holds several designs of mine. Some unfinished, some I think you’ll find interesting, others I felt could never be in the mortal world. I'm positive you will find some things useful there.”

Annabeth was speechless. “This… This is priceless. And you’re just giving this to me?”

“It is less than you deserve. Less than I should do to atone for my mistakes.”

As Daedalus spoke of his time coming to an end and accepting whatever punishment he will be given from his judgment in the Underworld, I came to realize just how small we all are. Just how little we are meant to live. How many regrets we still have over such little time.

I looked around at all of the half-bloods scattered around. I saw some over at the medical tent, others scattered just hugging their friends and siblings, some sitting by the ones we lost who had been covered by thin fabrics.

I questioned my own mortality, and Percy’s. We weren’t meant to live forever. We were never going to. But with the little amount of time we both had, how many regrets would we hold with us?

I thought of Clarisse. I thought of how I hadn’t gone up to her before the battle. How I’d always regret that. I thought of how we both decided to keep our relationship a secret. How that was something I didn’t want to do anymore if it meant having to live with regrets. I thought about how I hadn’t seen her since I had joined the battle.

I looked back at the scene before me as Nico pulled out his sword and stepped before Daedalus. After being zoned out for a second, it freaked me out, until I realized Nico wasn’t raising it.

“Your time has long since come. Be released and rest.”

The relief in Daedalus’ eyes was freeing for us all. Knowing that he was truly ready brought us all some consolation. We watched as his body turned to dust.

I took Percy’s hand in mine and gave him a small smile. “I know there’s a lot to do, but there's something I have to do first.”

Percy nodded. “I know,” he said, and for some odd reason, I knew that he fully did, even though he didn’t say it. I looked down as he continued to speak. “You really didn’t have to hide it from me, you know? I was a bit upset about it at first but I think I was more… sad that you felt you couldn’t tell me.”

I looked back into his eyes and breathed out through my nose, smiling softly. “I just didn’t want you to hate me for this. More than just the ‘Clarisse’ part.”

“Oh, well, that part I might hold a bit of a grudge about,” he smiled at me in a way that told me he was joking. “But otherwise, all I care about is that you’re happy.”

We smiled at each other before Percy suddenly wrapped his arms around my waist. It felt like he was just a little kid again, like he was just my little brother, nothing more. It felt like we suddenly weren’t in the middle of a battlefield and there was an ancient monster buried in rubble just a few feet over. It felt like I was back home. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders.

“I will kill her if she makes you cry.”

We laughed harder than we should have.

He pulls away first, telling me to “get my girl.” I don’t even think twice before turning and starting to run through the battlefield.

I frantically looked around for Clarisse, hoping and praying to every single god that she was okay. I was so frantic that I nearly missed her over by the Ares station, seeming to be ignoring something her brother was saying in favor of looking out at all of the other half-bloods.

I didn’t even think before my feet were moving. Clarisse started to walk around, looking for something. It wasn’t until we made eye contact that I realized it was me she was looking for, when her eyes softened in the way they always seemed to whenever she looked at me, like she was letting go of the anger embedded within her skin and cooling off just a bit.

It didn’t matter to me that we were surrounded by people, and Clarisse made no complaints when my left hand cupped her cheek and my lips met hers. Her arms held my waist as my right arm circled around to hold the back of her neck. I could feel the sweat that was dripping down from the battle and the adrenaline that was just beginning to crash.

I didn’t realize she was crying until I tasted the saltiness. I withdrew slightly before pecking her lips once more. The thumb of my left hand moved to her cheek and under her eye to wipe the tears.

I didn’t realize I was crying until Clarisse’s left hand left my waist to wipe the tears on the right side of my face. We both laughed slightly, bringing our foreheads together and closing our eyes. I angled my head to kiss her one more time before hugging her properly. She buried her face into my neck and I laughed at how it tickled.

“Gods, we both smell horrible.”

“I know.”

We didn’t speak for a while, soaking up each other, but it still didn't feel like enough.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” she whispered.

“I’m glad you’re okay, too.”

It didn’t matter that everyone at camp could see us and Clarisse didn’t seem to mind it either. There were more important things than reputation right now.

[littlejuicebox]

Camping for beginners.

Written to sort of kill two birds with one stone. @coyote-mint this isn't Astarion soothing a baby, but it is Astarion giving Tav a break as she goes on a little, well-deserved vacation! @davenswitcher I also worked your storybook prompt in! Hope you two both like it; thanks for prompts! Special thanks to @chickywickers for helping me name the twins. :)

Summary: Tav/You are out of town and Astarion is full-time daddy duty without the nanny. In an effort to keep three children entertained, he decides upon camping in the backyard.

Tags/Warnings: all fluff, parenthood, children, dadstarion, the mildest reference to sexual encounters, mildest reference to bg3 events and trauma

Word Count: 2.5K

*

Astarion is pitching a tent in the ground, cursing to himself every few moments as he goes about the task. Once upon a time, he’d had Tav or Karlach… or perhaps even an unenthusiastic Lae’zel or an overenthusiastic Wyll to assist him.

But now, it’s him and three little boys in the midsummer heat. Tav won’t be back until tomorrow morning, after a week away visiting Shadowheart and Lae’zel in the Dalelands. It’s a sunny Sunday, and Winifred, the nanny, has weekends off.

So it’s all up to papa for a day longer. He’s sweaty, tired, and pulling from deeply hidden reserves of patience he didn’t know he had until now.

Astarion thinks he has never missed his wife more in all their time together. One more day. He can do it, right?

“Gale, hold this for me,” The frustrated father directs, guiding his ever-obedient and sometimes now shockingly stoic six year old to one of the tent poles.

Gale nods and follows his father’s instructions as his little brothers scream and run around the orchard with toy swords, wreaking havoc as usual. The younger Ancunins are a tornado of scraped knees and sticky fingers at any given time. Their parents consider it a win if the twins make it an entire day without breaking something.

Evander and Finnick are naturally more wild and unruly than their older brother ever was. Astarion is painfully aware that the streak of disobedience in the duo comes entirely from him. The twins test his patience far more than Gale ever had, and in the absence of their mother, the two have become almost completely unhinged.

Tav is the twin wrangler; they are softer with her – but then, she’s always had a way with the more surly, roguish types. Her unique charm somehow soothes them into compliance. Astarion lacks the same skills and is, unfortunately, paying for it this weekend.

The younger boys are straying too far away for Astarion’s liking, and as he hammers a stake into the orchard’s fertile earth, he shouts at the twins, “Evan and Finn, you two had better get your little behinds back—“

He stops and sighs; the twins are too interested in their make-believe and paying absolutely no mind to their father and his chastisement. Astarion resumes his task and without even looking back up at his eldest asks, “Gale, will you please contain them for a moment until we finish this?”

A lazy wave of Gale’s hand, reminiscent of Astarion’s own flippant movements when he speaks, and vines spring from the earth. The tendrils wrap around Evander and Finnick, holding each of them by the torso. A second tendril springs to life from the soil and wraps around the brothers, pulling them into its embrace just as the first tendril recedes. This process continues in a domino effect until the twins are but a few feet from their father, struggling against the vines and expressing their displeasure with grunts and screams.

Astarion lifts his head from the stake and watches the scene in a mixture of amusement and amazement, and when the boys are sufficiently contained he turns to smile at his eldest, “You really are exceptionally talented, you know that, don’t you?”

Gale smiles and nods before he looks down at the ground, unable to meet his father’s proud gaze as he says, “I know, Papa.”

The eldest Ancunin boy struggled in school all last year. His fragile confidence took a huge tumble, which his parents were working to restore to the best of their ability. Gale always required softer hands in comparison to his brothers; Astarion was still learning how to navigate this difference.

“Let go!” The twins shout in unison, short limbs flailing against the vines gently containing their three year old bodies.

They look like mirror images of one another, down to the dark wavy hair parted in opposite directions and vitiligo patches splattered across opposing green eyes. Evander’s is on his left eye, Finnick’s is on his right. Together, they look like a Rorschach Test.

Astarion’s patience is gone; part of him considers leaving the duo trapped in the vines until Tav returns. He narrows his eyes at the youngest Ancunins, pointing accusingly at them with the hammer, “You two asked to camp outside, and after very insistent pleas, I agreed. So if you don’t want daddy to pack up this entire thing and take you both back into the house, you are to stand there. Quietly.”

Finnick, the younger of the twins by a few minutes, wrinkles his nose in displeasure at his father, “Mean, daddy.”

A slow, long exhale escapes Astarion as he stares at the surly three year old with furrowed brows.

“My child, you have no idea how mean I can be, now hush so that your brother and I can finish this,” Astarion instructs, and then returns to work pitching the tent, ignoring the frustrated whines and protests from the twins all the while.

*

Around the small campfire, the Ancunin boys roast marshmallows on sticks as Astarion reads a tale from one of their story books. Apple is, as almost always, curled up next to Gale. The eldest Ancunin boy sneaks the dog marshmallows and his father pretends not to notice.

If that’s the most rebellious Gale ever is, so be it. The twins are a different challenge, entirely.

The story is all about slaying dragons, knights in shining armor, damsels in distress… the usual. The topic is exceptionally boring to the father of three, given all he’s experienced, but he’s gotten used to pretending this ridiculous droll is highly entertaining and throwing his voice for his kids amusement. 

And, plus, if the twins are entertained, they aren’t causing mayhem, which is all Astarion can ask for tonight. Tav will be back in less than twelve hours, he reminds himself.

All hail his wife, Lady Ancunin, the Hero of Baldur’s Gate, and the hero of this household. 

This weekend has Astarion regretting any moment he might have taken her for granted or not shown enough appreciation for her.

While the father of three continues to read, a sudden rustling at the edge of the orchard catches everyone’s attention. The three-year-old twins instantly cling to one another in fear and Apple’s head snaps up to peer towards the possible threat.

“Werewolf!” Evander shouts.

“Vampire!” Finnick continues.

Gale giggles and shakes his head, “No… it’s a raccoon. I can hear her. She smells the food.” 

Astarion’s nose wrinkles in distaste as his silver-haired son takes his plate of leftovers and meanders toward the edge of the property, but he chooses to remain silent and let his son feed the vile creature. With Gale around, it’s a wonder they aren’t overrun with vermin and rodents galore. Though, the feral cat colony the little boy single-handedly created is likely keeping the other animal population at bay.

Gale places the plate down, whispers something to the raccoon, and returns back to the campfire, nestling his head into Apple’s side as he settles back into the dirt.

“Papa… there aren’t really vampires and werewolves out in the woods… right?” Gale questions, his eyebrows shooting up into his forehead in concern as he thinks.

“Perhaps not in the woods right here…” Astarion responds, trying to figure out how to be honest with his children without frightening them entirely, “But they do exist… I’ve killed a vampire before.” 

At this the two younger Ancunins gasp and Gale shoots back up to sitting, his green eyes widened in shock as he asks, “You’ve killed a vampire before?” 

Astarion chuckles. Sometimes he forgets how little his children truly know of his past. He shuts the storybook in his lap closed and nods, a small smile crossing his face, “I have. Your mother helped me. Would you three like to hear about it?”

“Yes!” The boys all shout in unison, all coming as close to their father as they possibly can.

“Very well,” Astarion agrees with a grin, and then he launches into the tale of fighting Cazador, mindful to keep everything as child-friendly as a gorey battle can possibly be and leaving his enslavement entirely out of the picture. The children will learn about that later, he thinks, but now is not the time.

The boys are wholly captivated by their father’s tale until the twins begin to drift off, slumped against one another. Gale is the only one still awake when his father finishes the story. There is a moment of quiet at the end as his eldest reflects upon all that was revealed to him.

“Were you scared, Papa?” He finally asks, his fingers threading into the curled fur on Apple’s back.

Astarion nods in response, “Of course, Gale. But… I think you cannot be brave if you don’t feel a bit scared, first.”

The eldest Ancunin boy sighs. He has feelings about this that he has not yet been able to put into words. Gale’s general kindness and gentleness is such a stark contrast to many of the kids at school; he’d gotten himself into more than one scuffle. He was perceived as an easy target, because he knew better than to use his powers on the other children. As a result, Gale often simply let the other children attack him, not ever wanting to hurt anyone, even if it was in his defense.

Astarion had, more than once this year, gone to the school and threatened to retract their donations if the issue was not resolved. One of the child’s parents had been hit with a lawsuit after Gale returned home with a black eye. But come the start of next term, there was a strong chance this behavior would continue.

He and Tav had both lost countless hours of sleep over this very topic.

“How do you know…” Gale starts, and then stops with another sigh, staring up at the stars as he tries to find his words, “How do you know when it’s time to fight back?”

There is a moment of silence as the older elf considers this question. How do you know?

“If someone doesn’t listen when you ask them to stop, that is how you know, Gale,” Astarion responds, finally, his hand coming to ruffle the curls upon his eldest’s head, “And if someone is hurting you or someone you care about, and they refuse to stop when you ask them the first time, that is all the permission you need. Your mother and I will always agree with you if you are protecting yourself or your brothers in defense, little prince.” 

The silver-haired six year old nods with a yawn, his fingers still curled in Apple’s fur.

“Now come on, let’s get you and your brothers inside the tent for the night,” Astarion directs, picking up one of the twins and holding the flap open for Gale. He gets the two boys settled before returning to retrieve the remaining one and calling for Apple to join all four Ancunins. 

The fire is left glowing its final embers as the men all drift off to sleep.

*

You find the tent in the orchard after returning to a house filled with only your regular employees. Winifred, the nanny, and Pascal, the steward, are both clueless as to where your children and husband are this morning. When you enter the backyard, a snuffed fire and Apple keeping guard outside the tent not more than ten feet from the manor signal you’ve found your family.

You crouch and open the tent flap, only to be greeted by an adorable image. Astarion is on his back, one twin clinging to each leg and Gale nestled into the crook of his arm. All four of the Ancunins are still sleeping, seemingly exhausted from the night before. 

“Good morning, my little loves,” You greet in a soft murmur.

Astarion is the first to open his eyes and smile at you as he sits up, expertly maneuvering himself around three sets of other limbs.

“Welcome back home, Tav. We missed you. I think that perhaps I missed you the most.” Astarion greets, leaning forward to press an affectionate kiss upon your cheek and grabbing your hand to give it a squeeze.

“No, me!” Evander protests through a yawn as he scrambles to wrap his arm around your arm.

“No, me!” Finnick echos, sitting up and pushing a cluster of curls from his face to grin at you.

“I think it was me, mama.” Gale calls softly, his head still resting upon the pillow, eyes still shut.

You chuckle in response to this ridiculous argument before standing and lifting the tent flap entirely, “I missed you all, too. Alright everyone, let’s get inside for breakfast. I’m making pancakes.” 

A clamor of excitement from the Ancunin boys fills the orchard as your children exit the tent and begin the short journey back toward the house. Apple is running after them, her tail wagging excitedly because she knows she will get whatever leftovers the boys cannot finish.

As the children disappear into the house, Astarion grabs your hand with a mischievous grin, insistently pulling you into the tent with him.

“My love, the boys–” You begin to protest, but your husband cuts you off with a kiss pressed against your lips as his nimble fingers quickly shut the tent behind you.

“It’s Monday, surely Winifred is already in, hm?” Astarion questions, his mouth already trailing kisses along your neck, “She can handle the trio for… oh, twenty minutes?”

You gasp as the elf’s fingers slowly trail under your dress and up your thighs to grip at the flesh around your hips. And then you turn to meet your husband’s face as he pulls you into a kiss. Being in the tent reminds you of old times out on the road, all those years ago, and you quickly fall under the Astarion’s spell, just as you had back then.

Your husband breaks away from the kiss and begins to pull your dress over your head. He grins and roams his eyes over your body when you’re left in nothing but your underclothes, “And… not that it’s a competition, little love. But I maintain I missed you the most.” 

He doesn’t leave room for response as he pounces upon you, eager to show you just how much he missed you this past week. 

Less than twenty minutes later, the twins are back outside the tent, screaming impatiently for pancakes as an apologetic Winifred calls after them from the porch. Astarion groans and is forced to throw his trousers back on with a whispered, “We’ll finish this later tonight, hm?”

And then he’s climbing out of the tent, corralling the two younger Ancunin’s back into the house and buying you a moment to throw your dress back on before exiting yourself. 

When you enter the kitchen, Astarion has thrown his crumpled shirt back on and is already starting the pancake batter among a chatter of excited storytelling from the boys. Winifred is forcing the twins to wash their hands as they speak about the raccoon they thought was a monster and Gale asks you to confirm the two of you really killed a vampire.

At this last part you shoot Astarion a questioning look and he shrugs while flashing you an apologetic smile. He looks like the twins when they’ve been caught breaking something. You know you’ll have to follow up later, but for now, all you want to do is focus on your little loves.

They all missed you, and you missed them just as much. Perhaps more.

But it’s not a competition.

[musicoftheheart]

That Time of the Month

inspired by @accio-sriracha’s post

A/N: it’s shorter than id planned and i might one day expand on this idea, but here we go! enjoy <3

“Who the fuck ate my fucking chocolate?”

Sirius and James exchanged a look of pure, unbridled terror. James’ wide eyes and quivering jaw seemed to imply it hadn’t been him, and Sirius was trying to communicate the same with his own expressions. Neither of them were daft enough to touch Moony’s chocolate these days; they’d learned that lesson the hard way.

A voice spoke up in the silence. “Sorry Rem,” Regulus mumbled from where he’d buried himself in James’ chest. “I’ve got some in my dorm — I’ll replace yours, I promise. I just really didn’t feel like getting up. Sorry.”

Something in Remus’ harsh expression softened — as it usually seemed to do for Regulus (something Sirius was often quite dramatic about, barring this one week of each month).

It had been dubbed ‘hell week’ by all those who had to experience it — both Remus and Regulus described it as such quite openly amongst friends, but Sirius and James were careful only to complain to one another, and not to their boyfriends — because it was quite frankly, hell. It was bad enough back in their early years of Hogwarts when it was only Remus they’d had to dance around near the full moon, but ever since Regulus had started his period in his third year (an unfortunate consequence of his being trans, and something that — as of yet — had no potion to fix) it had only gotten worse.

By some unfortunate sort of fate, Regulus’ time of the month had synced up almost perfectly to Remus’. The pair would wander around Hogwarts snapping at anyone who even slightly grated on their nerves, complaining about their aches and pains, demanding this, that and the other from their boyfriends. But as much as this caused Sirius and James a great number of headaches trying to please not one, but both of them at the same time, it seemed to have brought the pair together in an odd bond that could almost never have otherwise been created.

For a start—

“Oh, that’s fine Reg,” Remus brushed off, if still a little pouty. “You know you can just help yourself.”

Remus never let other people eat his chocolate. Regulus seemed to be the only exception to his rule.

“No, no,” Regulus grumbled, dragging himself upright. “I’ll get it.”

Sirius knew just from the tone of his voice that Regulus really didn’t want to go all the way down to Slytherin for more chocolate, and a glance at James told him he knew the same.

So James — in a valiant effort to make up for ‘breathing too loudly’ around Regulus earlier — quickly piped up, “No love, it’s okay! I can get it for you. You just stay right there, all comfy and cozy. I’ve got it.”

Smiling smugly and clearly pleased with himself, Regulus settled back into James’ bed while his boyfriend tucked him up with blankets and his hot water bottle. “Thank you, baby.”

Oh Merlin, his little brother really had James wrapped around his finger.

“Padfoot,” Remus whined, laying himself gingerly face down on his bed. Sirius snapped to attention like a soldier called to duty. “Will you be my weighted blanket again?”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Sirius shifted into his animagus form and gently laid himself down over Remus until he heard a contented sigh. He let himself snuggle into his boyfriend’s warmth happily.

Perhaps hell week wasn’t entirely hellish.

[monsterbachelors]

The Three Don'ts of Sabertooth Brewing

[contains semi-public sex + fem!reader]

SUMMARY: You visit Yanu at work on a slow night. One thing leads to another and just when things get exciting, something both unpleasant and unexpected forces you to take a rain check on back-alley romps.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 2k

A smile brightens your face when you see the Sabertooth Brewing sign from across the street. The venue doesn’t look like an appropriate place for a young lady without nefarious motives but at the same time, the entirety of the Copper Valley district doesn’t appear so. Nonetheless, you couldn’t think of a safer place to be. Whatever turf wars the former copper miners lead, they all agreed to omit Yanu and his business. It reached the point where some locals called the bar “the embassy” as it’s the only neutral ground in the neighbourhood.

The rough-looking miners curtly nod at you as you walk past them. A cloud of smoke and soot surrounds the two men. They always stand near the entrance of the locale but never go inside. Smoking one cigarette after another, their job must be to ensure that Yanu stays largely unbothered by the conflicts of Copper Valley. So far, they’ve been excellent at doing their duties.

You giggle quietly as you read the sign hanging on the front door:

Don’t: - fight - spill drinks - ask Q’rill to make a mojito

A bell chimes when you push the door open. Low, yellow lights make the interior look cosy. Conversations held by the patrons sitting in booths and around small tables are drowned out by a trio playing a familiar swing tune. The smell of cigarette smoke fills your lungs and sticks to your clothes. Two waiters weave between tables and clients, faux joy plastered to their faces. One of them notices you - she gives you a quick wave and nods towards the long bar counter.

Although he is surrounded by bottles filled with colourful drinks, it’s impossible to overlook Yanu. Maybe it’s a general rule or perhaps it’s just your fatal affliction. He’s wearing a shirt, a vest and a pair of tailored pants - exactly what one would expect a bartender to wear. Seemingly lost in thought, he’s just wiping some glasses but still, there is something unspeakably captivating about him. An aura that paints him as extraordinary and not just the way he is.

Yanu must notice you approaching out of the corner of his eye. When his gaze meets yours, his expression immediately changes. The deep, pink scar across his blind right eye gives the rakshasa a certain edge but even that isn’t enough to hide the pure adoration painted all over his face. His blue iris stares at you lovingly until a shadow of mischief dances across Yanu’s features.

“My, my, I don’t recall having an appointment with a princess,” he speaks with pretend surprise.

“Princesses don’t make appointments,” you answer casually. Sitting on the high bar stool, you’re still significantly shorter than the rakshasa behind the counter. “They just show up when they want to.”

He chuckles in a low voice. “Gods bless them for that.”

Yanu leans on his forearms on the counter and hangs his head to let you kiss his cheek. Round, furry ears adorned with silver jewellery flutter as they brush against your hair. It tickles when his whiskers touch your face. 

Feeling his breath against your skin, you don’t have to speak loudly. “I hope I’m not interrupting you.”

“You,” he points an accusatory finger at you, “interrupt my every coherent thought but I’ve learnt to enjoy that.”

Suddenly, your face gets hot. “I’m being serious, Yanu,” you say through flustered giggles. Even after all this time, it’s beyond easy for him to make you giddy.

“Likewise.” He winks at you before standing up straight. “So how can I spoil a princess’s palate?”

“Hm… I feel like elderberry.”

“Drunk all the time, feeling fine on elderberry wine*,” he sings while looking around for ingredients. The idea for a cocktail comes to him in an instant as befits a true connoisseur.

Yanu appears to be in a trance as he pours and mixes lemonade, vodka, St-Germain and some thyme. Every action is quick and decisive but never careless. Similarly, you are in a sort of trance, too - watching his white shirt and elegant black vest strain around the muscles of his arms. One day the seams of the garments might just let go but say, would it really be so bad?

The rakshasa pours elderflower syrup into the shaker. With a swift flick of his wrist, the shaker with your cocktail-to-be flips in the air. The metal cup makes a full circle only to be caught again by his hand, its content poured into a square drinking glass.

He looks at you in anticipation. Satisfaction is written all over his face. “Pretty nice, right?”

But you’re in a bantering mood tonight. Not letting him see how in awe you truly are, you only raise your eyebrows. “You have huge arms. It would be more impressive if you dropped that.”

Yanu sighs dramatically. He shakes his head and crosses his arms across his chest. If it wasn’t for the glimmer of amusement in his good eye, you’d think he’s genuinely upset. “And here I thought that a lowlife like me could impress a princess.”

“Well…” you ponder for a moment, “there are a few things you could do with your hands that would be impressive.”

Something changes about his demeanour. The amusement stayed but now it is joined by some darkness that leaves an aftertaste of chocolates with brandy - warming and rejuvenatingly bittersweet.

“Really?” he asks in a low voice. His blue eye is watching you intensely, almost looking through you. “Pray tell, what do you have in mind?”

Perhaps there’s some perversion to it but you enjoy leaving his question unanswered for a while. Slowly, you sip on the drink, silently enjoying the perfectly balanced flavours. Not too sweet, not too sour. A true testimony of how well Yanu knows you. That passionate gaze of his never once leaves you, catching even the smallest of movements. A predator or a lover? - how similar these two can be.

“A princess shouldn’t be saying such things out loud,” you finally say.

Yanu leans on his arms against the bar counter. With each exhale, his warm breath gently brushes against your face. There’s some intensity hidden under his casual demeanour as though if you were to play your cards right, he might just cause scandalous immodesty in full view of the clients.

“Will she share them away from prying ears?” More than a question, it’s a suggestion. One that you have neither the will nor the want to reject.

Feigning innocence, you shrug your shoulders. “Perhaps.”

The rakshasa only chuckles. He stands up straight and calls out to someone:

“Hey, Q’rill! Watch the bar for me for a bit, eh?”

The drow, equally well-dressed as Yanu, doesn’t even look your way. Still cutting a lemon into pieces, he answers in a heavy accent, “Got you, boss.”

Not waiting for a sign or a word of encouragement, you get off the stool and walk towards the closer end of the counter. Ever the gentleman, Yanu lifts the wooden part, letting you go behind the bar. But that’s not where the two of you are headed - you follow him through the back of the brewery, only to leave through the staff door.

The alley is dark and narrow. Something rattles in the skip filled with trash, probably a rat or two. In the distance, far away from where you’re standing, cars drive by every now and again. Muffled swing music played by the trio inside the bar sounds like an ambience of a faraway world.

Yanu pushes you against the wall. He’s towering over you - if he so wished, he could effortlessly throw you over his shoulder and carry off.  The bricks are cold against your back but soon you find them refreshing when compared to the warmth beaming from the rakshasa. His rough tongue slowly licks the side of your neck. It’s strange, tickling and absolutely delightful. 

One of his hands lifts your leg, resting your knee against his hips. Lustful greediness has him grabbing and groping whatever part of your thigh and ass.

Just when a pleased sigh leaves your lips, Yanu stops licking your neck and nuzzles it instead.

“So how can I impress my princess?” he purrs into your ear. 

He’s not waiting for an answer - not really. Not when you feel his clothed erection grinding against your groin. You can almost feel your arousal dripping down your legs.

Yanu’s other hand slides into your underwear. His fingers, thick and furry, sensually rub your clit in circles. Breath hitches in your throat. “Would this impress her?” he asks.

“Maybe,” you manage to say between whimpers.

The rakshasa only hums in response. It’s hard to say whether your answer satisfies him.

A loud moan escapes your lips as Yanu easily slips his fingers inside your pussy. The stretch is already more than enough for you. Slow strokes have him reaching deliciously deep inside you.

“You look so pretty like this, princess.”

Looking for support, your hands grab his shoulders. It feels as though your abdomen is suddenly set on fire, your coherent thoughts swimming away and turning into static, if not disappearing completely. There is only Yanu, his quiet groans against your neck and his thick fingers hitting that perfect spot.

“Faster, please,” you squeal.

With utmost pleasure, he obliges immediately. It feels so good you could scream but not a sound leaves your agape mouth. If you weren’t so lost in your pleasure, maybe you’d notice your legs quivering. Your grip on his shoulders only tightens, earning a chuckle from him.

“My princess is going to come?” Yanu coos.

No answer comes from you, only another pathetic moan. Desperate to orgasm, you begin rubbing your clit. It’s “allowed” in these extraordinary circumstances. No doubt Yanu’s “I live to please you” attitude will come back behind closed doors and between the white sheets of your bed.

Your vagina is clenching around his relentlessly thrusting fingers, your whole body begins shaking. A cry gets stuck in your throat. The wave of pleasure, the climax he so eagerly gives you, washes over you more like a tsunami than a wave. It drowns out your thoughts, your breathing, your strength. Fortunately, Yanu has a tight grip around your leg, keeping you standing straight. He’s still sliding in and out of you, letting you ride out your orgasm.

Finally, he slips his fingers out of you. You’re about to say something, thank him or praise him, when a loud crash resounds from inside the bar. Someone’s yelling but the voice is too muffled for either of you to understand what’s the matter.

Yanu and you exchange a look of both confusion and worry. Then, as though lovers know something akin to telepathy, the two of you chuckle.

“Mojito,” you say simultaneously.

When your laughter, contrary to the row next door, dies down, you let out a sigh. “Guess we’ll have to postpone our little escapade.” 

Yanu brings his fingers to his mouth and licks them clean. He’s a cheeky man, staring right into your eyes while doing something so indecent. “I’m fine with that,” comes the answer.

But you can play that game, too.

Low groan rumbles inside his chest when your hand teasingly rubs his prominent bulge. He clenches his fists, doing his utmost best to keep himself collected. You could so easily make him fail at that…

“Are you, though?” you ask with faux innocence.

Although you’ve just had a great orgasm, you can feel your pussy throbbing again. As your mind wanders for a second or two, pondering possibilities, your mouth starts watering.

Yanu firmly grabs the wrist of your hand caressing his crotch. Keeping you in place, he grinds against your palm. Through clenched teeth, he growls into your ear.

“I’m a big boy,” the rakshasa purrs. “I can wait a few hours.”

“I know you’re big, boy,” you retort in an equally sultry voice. “I’ll see you home.”

In a loving gesture, he nuzzles against your neck one last time. “Don’t stray.”

After that, he watches you walk away. Only when you disappear behind the corner does he go back inside the bar. As much as he likes Q’rill, he’d much rather go back home with you.

_____

*Lyrics from "Elderberry wine" by Elton John. A bit of an anachronism, yes, but a damn good song.

If you see any books, plays, movies, paintings or songs mentioned, it's most probably something very close to my heart :)

I'm also a complete greenhorn in writing smut, so bear with me as I learn on the go.

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Hey, I love the way you write Donna sm! RE Donna needs more love.

Could I ask for reader and Donna in an established relationship where Donna is getting a lot more comfortable with affection and sexuality. Because reader is always initiating intimacy between them, Donna tries to seduce reader but ends up getting too flustered and embarrassed halfway through so reader shows her how it’s done.

It can be gp! Donna or not. Either one. Thank you :)

Yesss!!!! Thank you for your request and for your support, your words make me want to cry :,) I hope you like it, and sorry about the language mistakes!!!! :)))))

How to seduce you

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem!! Reader

Warnings: G!P Donna, smut, Minors DNI, fluff,

Word count: 5,505

Summary: She's acting weird, you wonder why...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!!I love you all!!!

“Seriously, these breakfasts are the best way to wake up,” you commented, while silence acted as your companion that morning.

It could be a day like any other, in a life like any other, but it wasn't, not when the person you had in front of you was the dangerous Lord, the dark lady, Donna Beneviento.

How did you come to share coffee and toast with what was possibly the most feared woman in the village (apart from Mother Miranda)? Easy, falling in love with her.

It might seem like something simple, something that happens daily in the life of any normal person. But no, it wasn't easy and neither you nor she were normal people.

You were a rebellious girl, who always stayed away from the duties of the village, from prayers, from chanting to the Black Gods. Now you regretted it, because after years of refusing to go to church, you discovered that perhaps you had met Donna much earlier.

Shy, disturbed, lonely... You could use a lot of horrible adjectives to describe her, but none of them seemed right, no, nothing like that.

A shy woman who was unlucky enough to be born in that place at the right time, or the wrong time, yes, that seemed like a better description. You certainly couldn't think of it as bad luck, a selfish part of you was grateful that it had been that way.

Who could blame you? You were madly in love.

“Mm,” she murmured, staring at her cup of coffee, with that elegant way she had of doing everything, everything.

You smiled at that shyness still visible in her gestures, at that subtle and overwhelming game of glances that could make all the ice in the world melt. Smiling pleased at that soft response, full of modesty and at the same time pride for having pleased you, you nodded, blowing into your cup so as not to burn yourself.

“Look at that toast... It has my name,” you said amused when the lady in black offered you another succulent delicacy, even if it was just toast. “You are not going to escape…”

A shy laugh left her lips, with a soft movement of her head that indicated the tenderness that your fun attitude towards life provoked in her. Maybe a person like you, who made her see the world from a different perspective, was all Donna needed to stop wanting to be alone. Or maybe it was the natural need to love and be loved. Either option was valid for you.

“You know what? Before living with you I used to make myself a disgusting instant coffee, the one the Duke sells. It was disgusting,” you commented, enjoying the soft aroma of your cup, the exquisite flavors of that breakfast, a breakfast like any other, or maybe not?

“Mm” That was her brief response, looking down again, something that made you frown in a curious way.

“Although well, they weren't that bad, you know, those modest breakfasts with the morning freshness entering through the cracks of the cabin,” you continued talking, with a curious look towards the lady, who nodded passively, as if she wasn't even paying attention to you.

“Mm,” another distant murmur left her lips as she sighed. Your expression was becoming more and more amused.

“Although if I'm completely honest, I miss the blood of a virgin maiden,” you whispered in a normal tone, with the same tone with which you said the other phrases, hoping to set a trap for the brunette.

“Mm,” Donna nodded, making it completely clear that she wasn't listening to you.

“Hey, Donna!” you suddenly shouted, gently hitting the table and getting her attention. The doll maker jumped in her chair with a confused look. “Were you ignoring me?”

“No,” she replied dryly, pretending to maintain her composure.

“No? Let's see, what's the last thing I said?” you asked, crossing your arms in a comical way.

“You liked the cracks of the blood,” she said in an embarrassing whisper, making you sigh victoriously, resting your head on your hand.

“That makes sense,” you said sarcastically, causing a tired sigh from the brunette, who stopped eating, shaking her head.

“I'm sorry, (Y/N). I was a bit distracted,” the lady in black confessed, looking at you with a strange gleam in her eye.

“I see, why? Is something wrong?” you asked with a more serious voice, less joking than usual. Donna shook her head again.

Donna Beneviento could be the best of the Lords, the most powerful they said, the most terrifying. But when it came to social relationships, when it came to expressing emotions, she was the clumsiest woman you had ever met.

“Sure,” you joked again, sipping your now lukewarm coffee. “Come on, let it go, tell me what you're thinking.”

“It doesn't matter,” she said immediately, smiling with false tranquility.

“Okay...” you whispered amused, blinking rapidly. “Can you bring me the oil?”

The lady reluctantly obeyed your request, crossing her arms moments later. Pretending like you didn't care, playing social games she wasn't ready for, was your best way to get what you wanted.

“Grazie, doll face,” you said amused, winking at her. She shifted in the chair, huffing in frustration, gritting her teeth.

“Okay, you win,” Donna said, sighing again, defeated, playing with her coffee cup. “I was thinking about last night.”

You smiled sinisterly, raising your eyebrows to emphasize your simple victory, and put down the toast to listen carefully to your… Girlfriend? Well, that would be another complicated topic.

“Last night...” you murmured, with a slightly more serious tone.

It could have been any night, but it wasn't, definitely not.

“You're going to make me say it, right?” she said, with a pink tone on her cheeks. You laughed with a casual shrug.

“Say what?” you asked, feigning confusion, pouring yourself some more orange juice.

“Oh, come on, stop playing,” she sighed nervously, annoyed by your attitude, as always. “You know what I mean.”

“What do you want to say?” you asked curiously, slurring your words.

“What I think,” she said, crossing her arms, her legs shaking under the table.

“What do you think?” you asked, continuing with your little haze, making Donna grumble again, muttering words you didn't understand, probably insults.

“(Y/N)...” she sighed again, shaking her head. You put your palms exposed in surrender.

“Okay, I'll park my combat tank,” you said with a soft, understanding voice. “Tell me what worries you.”

“I'm not worried about anything, it's just… You know, last night…” the lady said more confident due to the end of your well-intentioned teasing.

“Last night, yes, a great night,” you commented, interrupting, this time for a good reason.

“Lies,” she said with a dark voice, with her eye fixed on yours and a slightly hard expression.

“I'm not lying,” you said, savoring each of the syllables, with a seductive look. “It was great.”

“Do you want to stop lying and tell me what you really think?” Donna asked with a harsher tone, as if something you had said had been a reason for her to be offended. You frowned and laughed confusedly.

“Well, I think it was... Wonderful,” you said, pretending to think about it. You had nothing to think about, you really enjoyed it.

“I don't believe you,” she whispered, looking away from you, her face betraying shame.

“Why you don’t?” you asked curiously, settling into the chair with an informal posture.

“Because... I didn't... I didn't last long enough,” she confessed with a murmur, with the trembling of her body evidencing her shame.

“Bah, nonsense, you were great, Donna,” you said, laughing, downplaying that absurd concern.

It hadn't been just any night.

After months of living together, of innocent kisses, of affection, of caresses... That night you finally decided to take the next step, consummate the love you felt. It was a complicated step for poor Donna, who had lived without knowing that sin, who had suffered an unwanted transformation of which she was deeply ashamed.

At first you thought that the lower part of her body was the reason for her fear, for her reluctance to be intimate with you, but in reality, her only concern was her inexperience, the contrast of an apprentice of lover with an experienced one like you.

But, after all, you weren't lying. You really enjoyed it, even though she insisted on denying it.

“You are the one who says nonsense. I wasn't even able to make you to have an orgasm,” she said in that low tone, watching in case the annoying and wandering Angie was near you, listening.

“That's not mandatory,” you said, downplaying it again.

“Of course it is,” she responded, with a harsher tone. “I'm useless.”

“Stop saying stupid things,” you sighed annoyed, playing with a piece of toast. “You were good, great, really.”

Donna laughed nervously, shaking her head and standing abruptly from her chair. You followed her with your eyes, making the same gesture.

“Hey, where are you going?” you asked amused.

“To the workshop, I'm not hungry anymore,” the lady in black said with a low voice, which revealed the anger she had for not fulfilling what you were supposed to expect from her. She was angry at herself, but as always, she made it seem like it was your fault, something you learned to ignore over time.

“Hey, come on, come back here, we were talking,” you called her in amusement, not stopping her steady pace to get away from you.

“I don't want to,” she said, already far enough from your happy and relaxed way to have a conversation like that.

You sighed, shaking your head, rocking in the chair.

“I guess I have more breakfast just for me now,” you said, forgetting that awkward conversation, rubbing your hands, pretending not to think about her worries, ones that, according to you, shouldn't exist.

It took you many more conversations like that, many more unexpected escapes, more displays of cowardice, of insecurity, but, as time went by, you managed to make Donna forget about that nonsense, and start to feel comfortable when it came to getting into bed and enjoy passion.

Always insecure, but with more desire to make you enjoy, Donna stopped worrying so much, she began to let herself be carried away by your hints, which were not so indirect, and to establish a constant rhythm of moans and intimate laughter at night, or during the day, or in the afternoon. It didn't matter the moment, the important thing for you was to make her see that you loved her just the way she was, and, truly, you enjoyed those small moments of lust, as it couldn't be otherwise.

But the shadow of worry began to appear again on her face. It didn't seem like those problems at the beginning were the cause of her sadness, but it didn't seem like everything was as good as that time when there were no worries either.

You asked again and again, but to no avail. A sudden escape to the safety of her workshop was her only response. Thinking that maybe you had done something wrong, you began to think about it in those moments of loneliness, in those moments when it was just Angie, the house and you.

It was a shame that not even thinking, going over and over each of your actions, looking for what the root of the problem could be, you could you act like a mature person, and not like the irreverent and funny girl that you really were.

Jack, get back

Come on before we crack

Lose your blues

Everybody cut footloose

Music played on the walls while you cleaned, well, you pretended to clean the house. After reading and rereading the hundreds of books on the estate, the only thing you could do to not get bored was remove the tons and tons of dust from what was your home. Donna never asked you, and she never would, but you had to admit that you had an insane obsession with cleanliness.

Also, how can you miss the opportunity to listen to that upbeat music you liked so much?

“Kick off the Sunday shoes… Come on, Angie!” you sang with a shrill voice, which made even the portrait on the stairs tremble.

“Please, Louise... Pull me off my knees... Jack, get back...” the doll sang, joining in on that painful show, while you used the broom as a guitar, doing everything except cleaning.

“You got it!” you screeched, turning around, only to discover the lady in black looking at you with a frown and a half smile on her face.

“Oh, doll face!” you shouted amused, putting on a seductive look and walking towards her, holding her hand, trying to get her to dance with you. It wasn't the first time you tried, and failed, well, almost, her smile and the fact that she moved her arm while you turned under her was much more than a victory for you.

The music stopped after a few moments of erratic movements. You comically bowed next to the doll, who seemed to be the only one who was truly amused by your antics.

“Thank you... Thank you...” you said, leaving the broom aside and stopping the vinyl that was spinning in the player.

“What are you doing, tesoro?” Donna asked, shaking her head at your attitude. You shrugged, catching your breath.

“Clean up,” you said, nodding. She looked around her, thus verifying your lie.

“Oh, really?” she asked amused.

“Well, more or less,” you admitted embarrassed, approaching her and hanging on to her neck seductively.

“Was that forbidden music?” the brunette wanted to know, frowning again and making you roll your eyes.

“No, well, maybe, I don't know, was it?” you said mockingly, putting on your best innocent face.

Donna sighed, shaking her head.

“You know I don't like when you buy contraband things, (Y/N),” she scolded you, with a dark, but calm tone.

You cringed, with a mischievous smile.

“You'll have to tell the Duke... His offers are... Tempting,” you whispered, making Donna sigh again.

“Of course I must assume that my lei have had something to do with that,” she said, her voice soft, without a hint of resentment.

“You're still a Lord,” you said amused, lowering your hands to her waist and stealing a quick kiss from her, moving away and letting yourself fall on a sofa.

“You give me a lot of problems, (Y/N)” she murmured amusedly, with a tender smile, sitting next to you. You winked at her, with a superb look.

“Well, I see you have returned from the cave... Do you want something?” you asked, giving her a nudge.

She normally spent the whole morning with her dolls.

“Don't call it cave. It's where I work,” the lady protested, her expression hardening. You apologized with a mocking gesture, sticking your tongue out at her. “I want something…”

“Well, ask for it, doll face,” you said, relaxing your joking attitude, beginning to see the same worrying expression on her face as in recent weeks.

“Um, I... I...” Donna stammered, her gaze searching for something that you were unable to intuit. “It's a very nice day, isn't it?”

You, blinking in confusion, looked out the window, where the merciless rain was pounding incessantly. Slowly, you turned back to the brunette, who seemed embarrassed by that pointless mistake.

“Oh yeah, there's nothing like a pouring rain for a quiet walk in the woods,” you joked curiously.

The lady in black sighed, shaking her head.

“No, yes, well...” she said, trying to breathe normally, something that seemed to be too difficult for her. “What, what I want to say is that even in bad weather you… You are…”

“Happy? Well, I guess it's genetic,” you said amused, trying to figure out the meaning of that strange conversation, apparently without success.

“No, I... What I mean is...” the lady murmured, under your attentive gaze, one that she avoided, her face blushing shamelessly. “You look beautiful today and… I… Well… I…”

“You?” you asked impatiently. “Donna, are you okay? You're shaking,” you said, changing amusement for concern as you watched the trembling of her body and the erratic play of her sweaty hands.

“Yes, I'm fine. Let me finish,” she said abruptly, without looking at your face, shifting on the couch.

“Okay... I didn't know you’d started something,” you murmured, studying each of her clumsy movements.

“If you let me talk, maybe I would...” she snapped at you, relaxing instantly. “(Y/N), I... I, I would like... Well, the rain is very romantic and I... I feel...”

“What do you feel? Does your stomach hurt?” you asked curious and confused, seeing how the poor doll maker seemed to have a hard time relaxing.

“What? No,” Donna said, offended for some unknown reason. “Why are you making it so difficult for me?”

“Do you want some tea, a chamomile infusion? Have you gotten paint poisoning again?” you asked, hoping after that wave of doubts, one of them was the right one. It didn't seem to be the case.

“Oh…Cazzo!” the lady  growled angrily, getting up from the couch, walking angrily away from you. You blinked in disbelief, trying to reach for her wrist, something you couldn't do due to another dismissive gesture.

“Hey, hey, Donna, wait!” you screeched, getting up and running after her, now able to grab her arm. “Hey, come on… Tell me what I can do to help you…”

“You know what, (Y/N)? Forget it,” she hissed, wriggling out of your grasp in an unpleasant manner.

“Forget about what?” you asked, shaking your head. “Hey, hey, don't run away again.”

“Vaffanculo!” the lady growled, before making an unpleasant gesture with her finger and getting lost in the elevator hallway.

“Hey... Whoa...” you sighed, with your hands on your hips, looking at Angie, who was very attentive to this strange conversation. “What the hell is wrong with her?”

The doll simply shrugged, walking away from you as well, leaving you petrified on the floor.

“Are you feeling better?” you said after another hour of absolute solitude, somehow different.

Donna's erratic attitude had been on your mind for a long time, but, after that strange encounter, thoughts about it began to take more priority in your head, thinking that something really was happening.

Her gaze pierced you like a dagger. A dark look, but one that she fought to remain composed. During that lunch, she didn't speak. She just ate almost without looking at you, just like you, a most uncomfortable situation.

The woman nodded slowly, after a tired sigh. Tired of you? You hoped not.

“Hey, I've always wondered... How do you make these things always have this texture?” you asked curiously, with a piece of food on the fork. Perhaps talking about cooking would relax the lady, who seemed to still be terribly nervous.

“These, things, like you say, are called farfalle and it's very simple, (Y/N). You just have to read the time it says on the package,” she said, with a disinterested voice. “Not twenty minutes.”

“Oh, I see, that's why the dinner I made for you on our anniversary was a disaster,” you joked, nodding calmly and an amused smile on her face.

Donna smiled for a moment, putting that strange worried expression aside.

“At least you tried,” she commented, with a slightly more relaxed tone, with that tender and shy smile that drove you crazy, even after so long.

“Yes... I guess that's something,” you sighed, with a romantic tone, expressing sincere love with your eyes, something that would make whatever her problem was, disappear.

Donna drank some wine and sat thoughtfully, relaxing her posture.

“(Y/N) I…” she murmured, gulping down the missing wine, making you frown. “Well, I... I'm, I'm very...”

“Happy? In love? Crazy about me?” you said, raising your eyebrows, sketching that irreverent smile.

“No, I mean, yes, of course, but I... What I mean is that I've been thinking about you all day and...” she continued, closing her eyes so that your interruptions wouldn't make her nervous again.

“Oh, what an honor,” you joked, drinking some wine too.

“Yes, well, I...” she stammered again. “What, what I want to say is that… Well, I'm getting hungry, you know.”

“Oh,” you sighed, with a more sincere smile. “More pasta?” you asked, offering her your plate. She snorted and shook her head, nervous again.

“Okay, no, I didn't mean that,” she said, visibly blushing, you still didn't know the reason. “I've gotten thirsty, you know.”

“Fine,” you said amused, picking up the bottle that was on the table. “More wine?”

“Ugh,” the lady in black growled, banging her fists on the table in frustration. “Forget it, with you it’s impossible.”

“What is impossible?” you asked, your face harder, too nervous because that strange behavior had returned.

“Nothing, nothing. I’m going to…”

“The workshop again?” you said finishing her sentence, just when she was already getting up from the chair to run away again. Oh, no, this time it wasn't going to be so easy for her to escape.

“Leave me alone,” she hissed as your hands ran to grab hers, stopping her from disappearing.

“Hey, Donna... I just want to know what's wrong,” you said with a soft, serious voice, with concern in your eyes. “You have been saying and doing strange things for several days. Hey, if you have any problem with me, just tell me and...”

“I don't have any problem with you,” she said, stopping you from continuing to talk. You sighed suspiciously, caressing her cheek, burning due to the blush.

“Okay, but you have a problem, right?” you whispered, moving closer until her perfume was perceptible, thus forming a safe space that you knew would work. Or so you hoped.

“Yes, I...” she admitted. “I have, I have a problem.”

“Well, let's talk about it, shall we?” you said in an understanding tone, trying with your caresses her gaze didn’t dare to stray again.

“(Y/N), how do you do it?” she asked, with a defeatist sigh, moving your hand away from her face.

“What are you talking about?” you wanted to know, putting your hands this time on her waist.

“You know when... When you want... You want us to... Get intimate,” she said with an almost inaudible voice, making your eyebrows arch again unconsciously.

“Oh, that. Well, I feel like it and I'm just trying to seduce you,” you explained with an innocent look, doubting that that was her real concern, was it?

“Seduce me...” Donna said, shaking her head, leaning on your shoulder. “And how do you do that?”

“Well... Well, I... Wait,” you said, opening your eyes when you found the problem, when those actions and words that seemed meaningless, suddenly made sense. “Oh, oh, Donna, don't tell me you were trying...”

“Yes, you said it, I was trying,” the doll maker said, turning her embarrassed face away from yours, which was struggling not to laugh. “But I see that I’m not capable of doing it.”

“My, my, so Donna was playful, huh? Why haven't you told me?” you asked in a velvety tone, leaning closer to her ear.

“Are you deaf?” she asked annoyed, with a frown. “I told you that I have tried, but I’m not able to do it… Well, the way I would like, the way you do it.”

“It's not very complicated, I'm just saying the first thing that comes to mind,” you commented, downplaying its importance.

“Okay, thank you very much, that doesn't help me,” she said, crossing her arms. “You know it's not like that.”

“It is, you should try, I'm sure it works,” you said, encouraging her, not letting her insecurities be too much for her, not in that regard.

“Yes, yes... (Y/N), it turns out that I was thinking about you while I was making my dolls, I got hard and I wanted to fuck you... Very romantic and seductive,” the lady said with a mocking tone, making you laugh at those words, so unusual for her.

“Well, that's pretty direct, I'm sure it would have worked,” you joked, covering your mouth with your hands so she wouldn't think you were laughing at her.

“Sei insopportabile,” she hissed, turning away from you and walking towards the elevator. You sighed, shaking your head and biting your lip, reaching out to reach for her wrist and pull it.

“Eh, eh, eh... Wait, wait,” you said in a stern tone, pulling hard on her wrist, stopping her with an angry gasp.

“(Y/N), it's just that... It's always, always you who... The one who does that kind of things and I... I want to be part of this in the same way,” she said, with a tired, shy tone, with the blush not seeming to want to disappear from her cheeks.

“I see... That's cute, you know?” you said with a calmer voice, no longer wanting to make fun of poor Donna.

“You think so?” she asked, looking down at the wooden floor, letting the distance between you become smaller and smaller.

“Yes, and besides, it has an easy solution,” you said, nodding, placing a strand of black hair behind her ear.

“Which one?” she asked curiously, looking at you confused.

“Come,” you said, pulling her hand across the room to your reading corner. “Sit down, Donna.”

“But…”

“Sit down,” you said more severely, making her eye open in surprise and she obeyed in a quick, and very comical manner. “Okay, let's see, let's see... Yes, this will do,” you said, picking up a book that was on the table and handing it to her. “Take this.”

“A book,” she said, confused, raising her eyebrow.

“You're going to pretend you're reading, okay?” you indicated, crossing your arms.

Donna looked at the object and then at you, suspicious.

“I don't know how this can help...” she murmured, causing you to roll your eyes, open the pages of the book, and place it in her hands in the right position with a grunt.

“Do it and keep quiet,” you ordered, perhaps too abrupt. She was still a Lord.

The lady nodded nervously, pretending to read the words of that old book about plants while you took a breath and sat next to her seductively.

“Mm, hello, doll face, what are you reading?” you whispered in her ear, leaning towards her. Donna looked at you disoriented, with a strange grimace.

“(Y/N), what...?” she said, before your hand rested on her mouth and your expression hardened, due to her extreme innocence.

“Come on, Donna, this is a practical class,” you said amused, turning her head so she was looking at the book again.

“Mm okay... A, a plant book,” the brunette said with a broken voice, but trying to play along. You sighed in relief, with a mischievous smile.

“Oh, that seems interesting...” you whispered with a honeyed voice, moving a little closer, looking at those words over her shoulder. “Tell me, is it interesting?”

“It is,” she responded, breathing more and more nervously, because your hands traveled to hers, caressing them slowly, almost tickling her skin.

“I see... Do you know what I find interesting?” you whispered seductively again. Donna shook her head. “How much your body shakes when I'm around...”

She smiled nervously, closing her eye at your sweet words.

“Does that seem interesting to you?” Donna asked with a low voice, distorted by her difficult breathing.

“Uh-huh, look...” you said, moving one of your hands to her neck, caressing it with the back of it, making the book tremble in her hands. “So sensitive, so… Delicate…”

Donna laughed open-mouthed, confused by your actions, but slowly letting herself go.

“How about you put that boring book aside and focus on something even more interesting?” you asked, taking the copy from her hands, throwing it gracefully above your head.

“Like, like what?” she asked shakily, watching your hand caress the buttons of her dress, your eyes shining with desire.

“Mm, this, for example,” you said passively, bringing her trembling hand to your neckline, running it over your burning skin. “How about this?”

“Interesting...” she sighed, turning to face you, no longer needing your hand to caress you, running over your skin with her soft fingers, touching each of the inches they traveled erratically, but seductively.

“I thought so,” you said, leaning into her ear, biting her earlobe and gently pulling on it. “Maybe you want to know something else about that interesting topic.”

“Maybe,” she answered, completely lost in her caresses, in the way your lips were gently placed on her skin, on her cheek, on her neck...

You laughed, letting the dress you were wearing loosen, moving down just enough to show your covered breasts, something that made Donna shift on the couch, visibly nervous and excited.

“Have I seduced you?” you asked with a slightly different tone, snapping the brunette out of her fantasy by shaking her head.

“What do you think?” she asked annoyed, accidentally looking at her lap, where a visible bulge was deforming the black fabric of her dress.

“Oh, I see,” you said, biting your lip at the sight, tilting your head amusedly. “You see? It's not that difficult, you just have to take advantage of the circumstances.”

“You make everything seem so easy...” Donna said, with a slightly dark tone, putting her hand between her legs to hide her erection, something you were already used to.

“It will be easy for you too. You just have to believe in yourself. Besides, anything you do is incredibly sexy to me, you already know that. You have that great… Advantage,” you said with an informal tone, lacking the seduction you showed a moment ago.

“Okay, okay...” she sighed, moving a little away from you, thinking that this little practical class was going to end there. Not at all.

“What do you think if I finish what we started now?” you asked, returning to that dark look, to those lustful thoughts. “Do you want it, my love?”

Donna nodded slowly, swallowing, nervous about her own arousal.

“Yes, I... I, I need you...” she murmured nervously, looking back at her lap, causing your smile to widen even more.

“Mm, that's good too...” you whispered again in her ear. “You could you say that to me sometime…”

After that whisper the words ran out, giving way to kisses. In one quick movement, you climbed onto her lap, with both legs on either side of her waist, rubbing your body against hers as your lips devoured each other.

The gasps and movements of your hips began to be frantic, thus revealing the brunette's deep desire, one that she herself was unable to express until you took the first step. Well, it wouldn't take her too long to heed your lessons.

“I can’t take it anymore, (Y/N),” Donna whispered, releasing her shaft with a subtle movement, with a desperate moan that you returned.

“Okay, you've earned it,” you said, kissing her quickly before quickly ditching your underwear, letting it slide down your ankles.

Little by little, you lowered yourself onto her erection, noticing how your body deformed to make way for the intruder, a sensation you could sense was one of her favorites. You loved the gestures she made to suppress those waves of pleasure.

A few movements, a few words that extolled her virtues, some hurried and hungry moans, everything mixed into the atmosphere, her hips moving with yours, her hands scratching your skin, marking it with her nails.

Your body was also weak, sensitive to her way of showing you love, of giving free rein to the passion Donna wanted to have for so many years. Your body trembled on top of hers and your breathing became erratic as you felt that explosion of pleasure building in your wet entrance, in your walls stretched by her, in her own trembling inside you, the feeling she was on the edge too.

Both of you, with an indiscreet moan, tensing your bodies at the same time, you released yourself from that pressure accumulated throughout the day. Maybe deep down you knew what Donna meant by acting that way, but your dark, teasing side, sometimes clouded your thoughts.

Her heat slid down your legs, the moisture she left in you was a sample of the pleasure you had received, that she had given you. It was stupid that she thought she was not good for giving love, for making love. She was perfect for you, perfect in every way.

“Mmm, Donna...” you sighed, letting your body escape on its own from her shaft, letting yourself fall into her lap, hugging her with that love you thought she needed.

“Thank you, (Y/N)...” she murmured, hugging you tenderly, returning that small gesture of affection, rocking your body on top of hers.

“Thank you? No, my love... This has only just begun. Come on, it's your turn to seduce me.”

[r0ttenhearts]

Care for a Round?

cyno x reader

established relationship, angst, no comfort

cyno was your ideal fit for a lover. his gentle touches, the way he’d remember every important date in relation to you and your relationship, he was perfect.

perhaps that’s why this cut so deep.

it had been a muddled past few weeks as cyno’s job as the general mahamatra kept him busy and away from you. but with your birthday coming up you looked forward to spending time together. his sweet smile, corny jokes, and warm touches were all you thought about.

so, here he was, seated in front of you sharing a meal of “duel soul,” of his own creation. you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of cyno’s chews as he shoveled grains of rice into his mouth. you leaned forward across the table, wiping a grain of rice off of the corner of his mouth as he smiled at your gesture.

“ah, i almost forgot to tell you (y/n), a tournament of TCG will be on friday so i’ll be home late.”

your smile fell as you realized what day that was. it was your birthday. you frowned as you picked up your fork, smushing the small pyramid of rice down.

“do you have to go? you do realize friday is my—“

“can’t that wait (y/n)? i understand i haven’t been home much these days but this is very important to me. whatever you wanted to do on friday can wait another day, can’t it?”

you frowned, nodding as you bit on your lip. he didn’t mean your birthday, right? did he even remember? you give him a small smile as you pick up your plate, your appetite gone.

“you’re right, cyno. i hope your matches go well.”

you paused, noticing how he avoided your gaze as he continued to finish his meal. “i think i’ll just go to bed early.” you say quietly as you dump your plate into the trash can, briskly walking to your shared bedroom.

a part of you wanted him to go after you, ask you what was wrong, or even comfort you. but he didn’t. you curled up into a ball under your blanket and wept. you were so very tired of feeling like second to all of cyno’s responsibilities. you didn’t want to be a burden, but you still wanted his time. you didn’t want him leaving you alone on your special day of the year. but you knew he wouldn’t listen to reason, so you closed your eyes and fell asleep with a pounding headache and sore eyes.

the next few days quickly came and went, with cyno’s presence lingering here and there as you’d see him around the city while you did your commissions to help around. you missed him dearly, the most time you’d spend together was sleeping side by side in the same bed, sharing warmth and trying to engrave his scent into your memory as you held him.

but it was short lived once he’d leave early in the morning, no kisses or goodbyes shared as he’d leave. you understood how serious his duties were, but sometimes you still wished he’d stay with you longer, holding you the way he used to at the beginning of your relationship.

you held onto those thoughts until friday arrived. another morning of cyno’s early departure, and the day of your birthday arrived. you softly smiled to yourself as you laced up your boots, already having a person in mind to visit for your special day.

you made your way out of the city and through the lush greens of the forest until you arrived to gandharva ville, spotting the familiar tall ears of a certain individual. you ran up behind him, poking his ear as he yelped in surprise.

“(y/n)! archons.. don’t touch my ears!”

he huffed out as he crossed his arms before looking at you with a confused expression.

“i suppose i’ll let it slide this once since it is your birthday.. happy birthday, my dear friend. what are you doing here? i would’ve assumed you’d be spending this day with cyno.”

you shake your head as you look to the side sadly, your hands playing with the hem of your shirt as you sigh. “cyno said there’s some tournament thing for TCG today so we couldn’t do anything for today. are you not going? i thought you always went.” your brows furrowed as you took in tighnari’s equally confused expression.

“tournament? i don’t recall one being today, and cyno certainly didn’t bring it up to me either.. perhaps he’s planning something for you?”

you nod as you hold your strap of the bag you’re holding. “i hope that’s what it is.” you chuckle as you give tighnari a hug before making your way back to the city. you go to katheryne and do your commissions, helping give out medicine and fetching water for a small garden. it wasn’t hard work but it helped out the community. you exhale as you wipe sweat from your forehead before a young girl approaches you, flyers in her hand.

“good day miss, there will be a performance in Zubayr Theater tonight. we hope you can make it.”

she hands you a flyer before scurrying off. you glance at the flyer and see a photo of nilou along with the other dancers of the theatre. you were acquaintanced with nilou through tighnari and cyno, but you didn’t know her well personally. she was an excellent dancer, no doubt about that.

you shrug it off as you stuff the flyer into your bag before heading to the market stalls, looking for something sweet to have to celebrate your lonesome birthday with.

as you examine the padisarah puddingsyou hear a familiar voice.

“hey! you’re going to use up all my mora, you know i need that to buy more rare cards with.”

you smile to yourself as you realize it’s cyno. you turn around, ready to scold him for being so wasteful on his cards but your eyes widen at what you see in front of you. nilou’s was hugging his arm as he stood very close to her. his smile looking sickingly loving, the same way he used to smile at you.

your breath caught in your throat as you watched him lean into her, his headpiece covering most of the scene but you knew what was happening. you felt sick. how could he betray you like this? and on your birthday? did he truly feel no remorse for the 4 year relationship with you?

you choked back a sob as you left the puddings, running back to the ville where you knew tighnari would be.

tighnari’s hand raises as he gives you a slight wave before you throw yourself into his arms, clutching him tightly as you sob.

“h-he’s cheating on me, with nilou. i saw them in the market together, all gooey and close together as if they were lovers! oh tighnari, i don’t know what to do.” you cry out as you sob into his chest.

tighnari’s eyes widen at your words. you had to be mistaken, right? cyno would never do those things, not to you.

“are you sure of what you saw (y/n)? that’s unforgivable, of course, but that doesn’t sound—“

“i saw them kiss tighnari. i saw the way she hugged his arm. it was real.”

tighnari nods as he strokes your back gently, mumbling that he’ll help you with whatever you decide. you sniffle as you tell him that you want to leave him, move out that very day as he simply nods, saying he’ll help you and give you one of the unoccupied places in the ville.

tighnari helps you take all of your belongings to a new place to call home, making sure to take every trace of you and your, now past, relationship with you. you place a photograph of you and cyno together at the annual lantern rite festival face down as you take one last look at the place you had called home for the past 3 years. you leave with tighnari, leaving your keys on the side table, never looking back as you two return to the ville.

hours later, cyno makes it home after watching nilou’s performance. it had been another stunning, flawless performance from her once again. he couldn’t help but smile at the memory of her wink as she danced across the stage with the other dancers.

as he opens the door he notices the lights are off, which isn’t usual but perhaps you had just gone to bed early again.

“i’m home (y/n).”

he calls out into the empty home, looking in the kitchen if you had left him dinner, but was greeted with an empty stove and the gentle hum of the refrigerator. he shakes his head as he makes his way to the bedroom, softly turning the knob as he looks at the bed, expecting to see your sleeping form. but you weren’t there.

his blood runs cold as he looks around, tossing pillows and other items onto the floor. just where had you gone?

he takes in the scene as he realizes some of your things are missing. he runs to your shared closet, throwing the doors open as he sees your side completely bare.

something happened to you. you wouldn’t just up and leave him without another word.

panic sets in as cyno runs around the house, calling your name and opening every door, hoping he would see you behind one of them. once he realized you weren’t there he took off to the ville where tighnari resided. he pounded on the door, only to be greeted with a yawning tighnari with an annoyed expression across his face.

“do you realize what time it is”

“(y/n)’s missing! i need your help to find her—“

“you don’t know, do you?”

cyno looks into tighnari’s eyes, begging for an answer silently.

“(y/n) knows about you and nilou, so she left.”

cyno shakes his head, looking to tighnari with fear.

“no that wasn’t—“

“it’s too late cyno, she’s gone. you can’t blame anyone but yourself for this.”

tighnari scoffs as he shuts the door at cyno’s disheveled expression.

cyno’s heart clenched as he stood there, tears slipping from his cheeks. he knew deep down nilou wouldn’t be worth it, but it was all in exchange for you?

“i choose you, (y/n). please, return to me.”

[perfectsunlight]

𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞

𝒌𝒊𝒎 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒋𝒊 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩, 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟒.𝟖𝐤

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞 - 𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐚 𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐨

know that i loved you so bad

i let you treat me like that

i was your willing accomplice, honey

you were in the middle of talking about your day on the phone with your girlfriend. the both of you went to the same school, but of course her idol duties put her out of the classroom all the time. you were no idol, naturally leaving you and minji with a bit of estranged distance since you rarely saw her.

“oh, and then one of the fire alarms went off–” “can you just stop talking?”

minji’s sharp voice cut you off mid sentence. the suddenness of her words left you stunned, the hurt hitting you like a swift blow to the chest. the silence that followed was heavy, suffocating, as if the weight of the unspoken emotions hung in the air between you.

your mind raced, desperately trying to comprehend what had just happened. this was supposed to be your moment, a chance to share your day with her, to bridge the ever-widening gap that her job had forged between you. 

and yet, here you were, your heart sinking as her cutting words echoed in your ears.

"i've had a long day, and i just don't really feel like hearing you ramble right now." the idol said monotonously on the other line, her words landing like a cold, heavy stone in the pit of your stomach. each syllable felt like a dagger, twisting and turning in the wound that was already so tender. 

it was as if the person you once knew, the one who used to hang on your every word, had been replaced by someone distant and indifferent.

your voice caught in your throat, the hurt and confusion making it impossible to form a coherent response. you had hoped that your words, your voice, could be a lifeline to bridge the gap between your worlds, but instead, they seemed to have driven the wedge even deeper.

the words hung in the air, the silence stretching out like an eternity. what had you done wrong? was it your fault that you couldn't understand the pressures of her life, the demands of her career? a sinking feeling settled in your chest, a mix of sadness and anger, a complex emotion that was hard to untangle.

you could feel your own heart squeezing in your chest, the vulnerability of the moment leaving you raw and exposed.

the person you loved, the one who used to make your heart skip a beat, had just dismissed you with a single sentence. the sharp contrast between the past and the present was a painful reminder of how much things had changed.

"i understand that you're tired," you managed to say, your voice trembling with a mix of sadness and resignation. "i just thought maybe we could talk, even if it's just for a little while."

the line remained quiet for a moment, the silence heavy with unspoken words. you could almost picture minji on the other end, her expression impassive, her eyes perhaps staring off into the distance, disconnected from the conversation. 

it was a stark reminder that you were now a secondary character in her life, a role you had never anticipated playing.

"i don't know what to say," she finally responded, her voice lacking any warmth or emotion. "i'm just not in the mood for this right now."

those words felt like a final blow, a confirmation that the divide between you had grown too wide to bridge. the tears you had been holding back now spilled freely down your cheeks, each droplet a testament to the pain that was too deep for words.

you wanted to tell her how much you missed her, how much you longed for the connection you once shared. you wanted to ask her if there was a way to mend what was broken, to find a way back to each other. but the weight of her indifference hung heavy in the air, suffocating any words that might have brought solace.

in the end, all you could manage was a whispered, "okay." and with that, you hung up the phone, the silence on the other end echoing the emptiness you now felt inside. 

and i watched as you fled the scene

doe-eyed as you buried me

one heart broke, four hands bloody

the next few weeks were a continuation of that one evening. minji stopped calling you, she left you on read often, and occasionally she wouldn’t even read it until the next day. this was not the kim minji you fell in love with.

no, this was entirely someone different. your minji would never do this to you.

the minji you loved always asked about your day, always called even just to say goodnight. 

the minji you loved always asked about your day, always called even just to say goodnight. she was the one who made you feel like you were the most important person in her world.

but now, that minji seemed like a distant memory, a bittersweet echo of a time that was slipping further and further away. the weight of her absence bore down on you like a heavy cloud, casting a shadow over every aspect of your life. the joy you used to find in the simplest of things now felt hollow, incomplete.

you found yourself constantly checking your phone, hoping for a message, a sign that she was thinking of you. each notification that popped up only brought a pang of disappointment as it turned out to be from someone else. 

you wondered if you were being too needy, too clingy, but deep down, you couldn't help but feel that something was fundamentally wrong.

nights were the hardest. 

the absence of her goodnight messages left a void that was difficult to fill. the empty space beside you in bed seemed to grow colder each night, a physical reminder of the emotional distance that had come between you. you missed the sound of her voice, the way she used to tell you about her day, about the small victories and the challenges she faced.

you began to replay that evening in your mind, searching for clues, for any possible explanation for the sudden change in her behavior. had you said something wrong? was there something you could have done differently? the uncertainty gnawed at you, feeding into your insecurities and amplifying your pain.

those things i did

just so i could call you mine

the things you did

well, i hope i was your favorite crime

one afternoon, you found yourself waiting in line at a fansign for new jeans. you didn’t tell minji you were coming, since you thought it would be a good idea to surprise her with your presence. it had been over a month since you had seen your girlfriend, and you were over the moon to just see her face again.

especially since you had found yourself ditching your last period of class to come to this event.

the atmosphere around you buzzed with excitement, the energy of the fans filling the air. the posters, the merchandise, the anticipation—it was all so overwhelming. as you inched closer to the front of the line, your heart raced with a mixture of nervousness and eagerness.

finally, it was your turn. you stepped up to the table, and there she was, looking every bit as stunning as you remembered. her hair cascaded in waves, her eyes sparkled, and her smile was radiant, lighting up the entire room. for a moment, it felt like time stood still, and all the pain and uncertainty of the past weeks melted away in the warmth of her gaze.

minji looked up from signing the album placed in front of her, her eyes widening in genuine surprise. "you?" she exclaimed softly, a mixture of shock and something else you couldn't quite place in her voice.

"hey," you managed, your own voice a little unsteady. "surprise."

a range of emotions seemed to play across her face—surprise, confusion, and something akin to disgust. but she quickly masked them, putting on a professional smile as she continued to sign your album. the brief interaction felt surreal, like you were strangers meeting for the first time, and the dissonance was almost painful.

"thank you for coming," she said politely as she handed the album back to you. you held onto the album, your fingers trembling slightly as you searched her eyes for a hint of the minji you once knew.

before you could respond, a staff member gently ushered you along, reminding you that there were other fans waiting. 

minji didn’t bother looking back at you, not even once.

and just like that, the fansign moved on, and you were left standing there, clutching the album to your chest. the encounter left you feeling both heartened and heartbroken, a reminder that surprises weren't enough to mend what was broken.

but maybe it was your fault for not understanding? minji was an idol. she was busy with her schedules and promotions. of course she isn’t going to have time to see you. surely you should understand that, right?

however, you couldn’t understand why she acted the way she did towards you. little did you know it would only get worse.

you used me as an alibi

i crossed my heart as you crossed the line

and i defended you to all my friends

“y/n, come on. you can’t keep defending her.” sullyoon said bluntly, pointing a finger in your direction as she glared at you.

your best friend had been present to witness yet another one of you and minji’s arguments. this time, you called your girlfriend asking for a day she’s free to hang out with you, only to be met with an argument with her.

minji blamed you for being late to her photoshoot because you called her at a bad time. she also blamed you for making her stressed out with all of your constant messages.

you sighed and looked down, the weight of sullyoon's words hitting you like a ton of bricks. she wasn't wrong, and deep down, you knew it. you had been trying so hard to defend minji's actions, to justify the distance that had grown between you, but at what cost?

"i know," you replied quietly, your voice tinged with sadness and frustration. "it's just... i love her, sullyoon. i don't want to give up on us."

sullyoon's expression softened, and she stepped closer to you, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. "i know you love her, y/n. and i'm not telling you to give up. but you deserve someone who treats you with kindness and respect, who values your time and effort."

tears welled up in your eyes as you nodded, your heart aching with the truth of her words. you had been holding onto the memories of the past, the love you once shared, but the reality of the present was becoming harder and harder to ignore.

"it just hurts, you know?" you admitted, your voice quivering. "to feel like i'm not enough, like i'm the one causing her stress and frustration. she’s an idol and i feel like i should understand better."

sullyoon pulled you into a gentle hug, offering you a source of comfort in the midst of your turmoil. "you are enough, y/n. relationships are supposed to be a two-way street. it shouldn't be one-sided, and you shouldn't have to constantly defend yourself." 

as you buried your face in her shoulder, you couldn't help but feel the weight of your emotions crashing over you. the love you had for minji was still there, strong and unwavering, but it was becoming painfully clear that love alone might not be enough to mend what was broken.

“and i’m an idol, too. but i still make time to talk to you more than minji does.” she added, patting your back gently. “she’s just making excuses.”

with a heavy heart, you pulled away from sullyoon's embrace, wiping away your tears. "i need to have a serious conversation with her, don't i?"

sullyoon nodded, her gaze filled with empathy. "yes, y/n. you deserve to be heard, and you deserve honesty. anything less than that is not enough.”

and now, every time a siren sounds

i wonder if you're around

'cause you know that i'd do it all again

after two months of not seeing each other, you and minji finally had arranged a time to see each other. it was actually minji’s idea to meet up and have lunch together. 

after two months of not seeing each other, you and minji finally had arranged a time to see each other. it was actually minji’s idea to meet up and have lunch together. the anticipation and nervousness you felt were palpable as the day approached. a part of you hoped that this would mark a turning point in your relationship, a chance to bridge the gap that had grown between you.

as the day dawned, you found yourself getting ready with a mix of excitement and trepidation. your heart raced as you drove to the restaurant you both had agreed upon. the familiar sights of the city felt almost surreal, like you were stepping into a dream. you couldn't help but replay the upcoming meeting in your mind, wondering how it would unfold.

when you arrived at the restaurant, your heart skipped a beat as you saw minji waiting outside. she looked just as stunning as ever, a mix of nerves and excitement in her eyes. for a moment, it felt like time had stood still, and all the struggles and pain of the past weeks faded into the background. it was just the two of you, like it used to be.

"hey," you called out softly as you approached her, a tentative smile on your lips. minji's face became visible as she turned to you, a half smile tugging at her lips. "hey," she replied, her voice a mixture of nonchalant and monotone.

the awkwardness that had been present in your recent interactions seemed to intensify in that moment. as you sat down at a corner table, there was an unspoken dynamic. minji was acting like an idol, not like your girlfriend.

the conversation started off hesitantly, with small talk about each other's lives. minji talked about her busy schedule, her recent projects, and the demands of her idol career. you sat and listened attentively, unsure if you should say anything yet about a breakup.

when there was a pause in her monologue, you took a deep breath and finally spoke up, your voice soft but determined. "minji, i think we need to talk."

she looked at you, her expression not changing much, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes—maybe surprise, maybe annoyance.

"what's there to talk about?" she replied, her voice tinged with a touch of irritation.

your heart ached at her dismissive response, but you pressed on, knowing that you needed to be honest. "i miss us, minji. i miss the way things used to be between us. but lately, it feels like we're living in two separate worlds. your career, your fame—it's all so overwhelming, and i feel like i'm being left behind."

minji's gaze remained fixed on you, her eyes guarded. "you knew what my life was like when we got together. this isn't something new."

"i know, and i tried to be understanding," you replied, your voice cracking with emotion. "but it's not just about your career. it's about how we've changed, how our relationship has changed. i want us to be partners, to support each other, but it feels like you're closing yourself off from me."

minji's expression hardened, her walls going up even higher. "so, what are you saying?"

your heart ached as you looked into her eyes, searching for the minji you used to know, the one who would have listened and cared deeply. 

"i'm saying that maybe we need to take a break. to figure things out, to find ourselves again. i don't want to keep feeling like i'm fighting for your attention, like i'm the one causing you stress."

the silence that followed felt suffocating, the weight of your words hanging heavily in the air between you. minji's lips tightened, and you could see a storm of emotions brewing beneath the surface. and then, finally, she spoke, her voice laced with anger.

"you're giving up on us just like that?" her tone was sharp, accusatory. "it's not about giving up," you said softly, your voice trembling. "it's about recognizing that we both need to be happy, that we both need space to grow."

minji pushed her chair back abruptly, her face contorted with frustration. "i can't believe you're doing this. after everything."

you reached out for her, your heart aching at her reaction. "minji, please understand. this is tearing us apart. maybe some time apart can help us find our way back to each other."

the restaurant seemed to fade into the background as minji's words pierced through you like a knife. her anger was palpable, her frustration a tangible force. you watched as she stood there, her eyes blazing with hurt and anger, her voice filled with a mixture of disbelief and betrayal.

"i can’t believe i took time out of my busy schedule to come on a date with you for the first time in months and all you’re doing is this?" her voice trembled with a mix of emotions, and you could see tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

you swallowed hard, your own heart breaking at the pain in her voice. "minji, i didn't want it to be like this. i thought a break might give us a chance to work through things, to find a way back to each other."

she shook her head, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. "you think this is what i want? you think i'm happy with the way things have been?"

the raw emotion in her voice cut through you, a stark reminder that this wasn't easy for her either. but her anger was so intense, so overwhelming, that it felt like there was no room for understanding or compromise.

"i don't think you're happy either," you said softly, tears welling up in your eyes. "i just thought maybe this break could give us a chance to heal."

minji's gaze bore into yours, her eyes blazing with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. "you think i need healing? you think i need you to tell me what's wrong with my life?"

the accusation in her words stung, and you felt a mixture of guilt and frustration swirling within you. "no, that's not what i meant."

"of course it's not what you meant," she spat back, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "you always know what's best, don't you?"

you closed your eyes, the weight of the situation pressing down on you like a heavy burden. it wasn't supposed to end like this, with anger and accusations. 

but the reality of your relationship had become so tangled, so complex, that finding a way forward felt almost impossible.

“i'm not saying i know what's best," you said, your voice cracking with the effort to hold back tears. "i just thought maybe a break could help us both find some clarity."

she turned away from you, her fists balled as if trying to hold back the flood of emotions and her jaw clenched. "i can't do this right now. i can't talk about this."

you watched as she walked away, her steps hurried and determined. the restaurant felt cold and desolate, the aftermath of the conversation leaving you feeling hollow and defeated. 

it was supposed to be a chance to reconnect, to find a way back to each other, but instead, it had only driven a deeper wedge between you.

all the things i did

just so i could call you mine

the things you did

well, i hope i was your favorite crime

you didn’t really know what to call your relationship with minji after that. even though you were the one who tried to break up with her, you couldn’t help but feel guilty about it.

maybe you were wrong all along? what if it wasn’t minji’s fault, but rather your own? she was still trying, right?

in the days that followed your encounter at the restaurant, you found yourself replaying the conversation over and over in your mind. doubt gnawed at you, and you began to question whether your decision to suggest a break was the right one. 

after all, minji had come to meet you, she had taken time out of her busy schedule, and you had essentially rejected her.

seeing her upset and angry had left a pit in your stomach, a nagging feeling that perhaps you hadn't fully considered the consequences of your actions. the guilt weighed heavily on you, a constant reminder that relationships were complex and messy, and your attempt to address the issues between you had only seemed to exacerbate them.

as the days turned into weeks, you found yourself missing minji more than ever. the silence between you was deafening, and the space that had grown between you felt like an insurmountable chasm. you wondered if you had pushed her away for good, if your efforts to address the issues had only served to drive her further away.

you couldn't help but notice how minji continued to appear in the media, performing with her group, smiling for the cameras, all the while masking the turmoil that had once been so evident between you. it was as if she had moved on effortlessly, while you were left grappling with the remnants of a relationship that felt more shattered than ever.

the clock on your bedroom wall glared at you with the numbers 9:55 pm. minji was still awake, she always was at this time. you memorized her practice schedule during the talking stage with her.

it was a bit ironic that you remembered her daily schedule but you couldn’t seem to remember to eat or sleep.

the past few weeks had been a whirlwind of emotions, and the attempt to repair your relationship with minji had left you emotionally drained. you were trying to rebuild what was broken, and it was proving to be both challenging and rewarding.

but it wasn't easy. the memories of your arguments and the pain you both felt still lingered, and they often invaded your thoughts, especially during these quiet moments when the world seemed to slow down. the disparity between minji's public persona and the reality you both faced weighed heavily on your heart.

as you sat there, staring at the clock, a surge of emotions swept over you. you missed her more than words could express, and you longed for the love you once felt from the girl. 

yet, there was a lingering fear that the cracks in your relationship might be too deep to mend completely. the doubt, the insecurity, and the uncertainty gnawed at you, reminding you that love alone might not be enough to heal the wounds that had formed.

you picked up your phone, your fingers hovering over the screen. maybe you should send her a message, just to let her know that you were thinking of her. 

it's bittersweet to think about the damage that we do

'cause i was going down, but i was doing it with you

your fingers typed and erased over and over again, the indecision evident in your actions. the glow of your phone's screen illuminated the dim room, casting a faint light on your contemplative expression. the cursor blinked in the text box as you struggled to find the right words.

"i miss you,” you typed and then hesitated, your thumb hovering over the send button. it was a simple message, but it held so much weight. would it be welcomed, or would it come across as too needy? you deleted the message and started again.

“how was your day?” you tried, hoping for a more casual approach. but as soon as the words appeared on the screen, they felt inadequate, empty even. minji deserved more than a simple inquiry about her day.

with a frustrated sigh, you locked your phone and placed it on the table. you leaned back in your chair, your thoughts a swirl of emotions. the turmoil within you mirrored the unease you felt about your relationship. it was as if your actions on your phone screen were a microcosm of the larger struggle you were facing.

part of you wanted to reach out, to bridge the gap that had formed, to show minji that you were still here, still committed to trying. 

but the other part of you was afraid—afraid of rejection, afraid of making things worse, afraid of being a burden to her busy life.

yeah, everything we broke, and all the trouble that we made

but i say that i hate you with a smile on my face

as the minutes turned into hours, you found yourself lost in your thoughts, a battle raging within you. the screen of your phone remained dark, untouched, a silent testament to your internal struggle. the clock ticked on, and the night grew deeper, but your heart felt heavy with the weight of indecision.

finally, you gave a resigned sigh, realizing that you couldn't keep grappling with this forever. with a determined exhale, you unlocked your phone once more. your fingers tapped out a message, slower this time, each word chosen carefully.

"hi minji, i've been thinking about us. i miss what we had, and i'm willing to work on things if you are. i don't want to push you, but i just wanted you to know that i'm here, whenever you're ready to talk."

you read and reread the message, the words holding your hopes and vulnerabilities. with a trembling hand, you pressed the send button, watching as the message flew off into the digital void. the anxiety settled in once again, the seconds stretching out.

the room was silent, save for the soft hum of the clock on the wall. the minutes passed, and you felt a mix of anticipation and dread. 

oh, look what we became

somewhere between now and the moment you had sent the text, you couldn’t help but feel like something was off. you picked up your phone again, only to be met with a blank screen of no notifications. 

all the things i did

just so i could call you mine

when you scrolled back to the conversation, you noticed your message didn’t say it had been delivered. confused, you decided to double check her schedule by looking online. was she flying somewhere right now?

as you searched for any information about minji's schedule, you felt a growing sense of unease. it wasn't like her not to respond, even if she was busy. and the fact that your message hadn't even been delivered left you feeling a mix of frustration and concern.

you clicked on various fan sites and social media platforms, hoping to find a clue about her whereabouts. but your search yielded no answers—no mentions of her current activities, no updates on her schedule.

the clock on your wall ticked away, and you found yourself trapped in a cycle of uncertainty. the more you searched, the more your anxiety grew. what if something had happened? what if she was in trouble or facing an emergency?

all the things you did

well, i hope i was your favorite crime

finally, after what felt like an eternity of scrolling, you stumbled upon a tweet from a fan account. it mentioned that minji's group finally had a break in their schedules for the first time in months.

your heart sank as you read those words. minji was still here in seoul. 

but if she was still here in the city, why wasn’t your message going through?

your favorite crime

moving to her contact once again, you about calling her. you missed her, you loved her, and you wanted to let her know that you were sorry for not understanding her.

even though none of it was your fault in the first place. 

your favorite crime

your thumb pressed on the call button and you brought the device to your ear. the sound of your heart pounded in your head and your hands shook.

would she be mad? would she be happy to hear from you? or maybe she would feel just as sorry as you were feeling right now? 

surely she can’t miss you less than you miss her, right?

'cause baby, you were mine

the number you have dialed is not in service at this time…

a/n: this was literally so rushed im sorry LMAOOO

[lirational]

Yandere Shalom x Chief reader?

Yandere!Shalom x Chief!Reader

Warnings: Yandere behavior, obsession, stalking, read at your own risk.

Dark content under the cut!

SFW:

Actually didn’t start big. Hell, she even hides it well. You won’t notice at first, after all, she was an expert of hiding her emotions. When you meet, her gaze will linger for a moment longer, her touch imparting a coldness that only lasted for less than a second before she pulled back, her demeanor as statue-still and perfect as usual.

Her emotions is most prominent in her gaze. Literally, if you’re not within conversation range it’s hard to know what she’s thinking and even if you are it’s difficult to really discern her thoughts. She’s a master of looking at you then right when you realize it and look to confirm, she seemed to be busy with something else.

Shalom will offer to accompany you to interrogations. This is done under the pretense of ensuring your safety (which is kind of correct) even though you don’t trust that damned device of hers, but, it’s also an excuse to observe you… which you certainly notice.

She fell for you, and she fell hard, but those feelings of hers cannot be overtly expressed, or the people behind her will find her defective.

She writes her diary like it was an investigation report, hiding personal tidbits about you under observational data. There are complicated codes of written material about your preferences, interests, and even daily activities, and as much as she detested it, the sinners you seem to like. What was it that makes them attractive to you? She can do the same, and she will do it better, and she won’t have their flaws.

Her passion is hidden beneath what passes as fake smiles and perfect disguises. You will be watched, and the only hints of her feelings will show through only when the Schorl is sent away. Expect her to sometimes send the thing away and use those minutes to, ahem, get you up to speed with her feelings. No confessions are made, but the fervor with which she expressed her desire more than make up for it.

NSFW:

She wants you to feel good, sure, but on the other hand? She wants to be in control of every aspect. She will tease you and won’t mind leaving you teetering on the edge for hours until you do perfectly, exactly as she asks, which is quite an ordeal thanks to her damned fingers. She’s so good at pleasing you, part of you wonder how much she actually knows. What kind of relationship did you both share in the past?

When she bottoms, she wants you to serve her, expect her to be teasing, playing with the remote that controls the device nestled between your legs while you eat her out, playing with the speeds to reward or punish you depending on your performance. Your fingers are the perfect length to press at that spongy, sensitive spot inside her, and she’ll save that for when both of you were isolated from everything else - including her Schorl.

I think she likes to leave back scratches. It’s pretty discreet and can be covered up with clothes, keeping you both professional for when you have to return to your duties. Shalom usually would take a sharp inhale seeing your scratched-up back, though, and at the very, very rare times she could afford to slip up, she’ll indulge herself and fuck you a second time. Perhaps she’ll even use her strap, the toy rarely seeing action save for rare circumstances.

I believe she has the ability to actually make a lot of things sound dirty, like damn, that voice—

[lemony-snickers]

hey lemony!! woke up thinking about sick!kakashi. i partially think he would be the type to ignore sickness until it cannot be ignored, and i think when he gets sick, before he gets into a relationship, he would be very good and quick about getting himself better just so he could be sent on missions quicker or whatever. however, after he gets into a relationship, i think he would be the whiny, needy type that drags out his sickness/symptoms just so he could soak up all the care and affection he could get from his partner :)

sorry lemony! one more thing to add to sick kakashi anon is that his dogs would know if he was faking it because they could smell the sickness, and by day 4, pakkun would probably say “you don’t smell sick anymore” while the partner is out of the room and kakashi would just glare at him

hey, anon. i think this is very cute & you are absolutely right.

Kakashi glares at Pakkun as the dog huffs again, already wrinkled brow furrowing. "It's unfair to keep expecting them to wait on you hand and foot."

He sighed, letting his head fall back against the pillow--which you had perfectly placed and fluffed and put a new case on while he bathed that morning. "I know, I know. Just a little longer, okay?"

The pug growled lowly, but said nothing else.

And Kakashi did, in fact, know Pakkun was right. That allowing you to continue caring for him--pampering him, even--was perhaps a little selfish.

There was a time Kakash would never in a thousand years have considered feigning illness. In fact, when he was younger, he was much more likely to feign not being sick even as a fever raged within him, turning his skin pink and sticky, cool to the touch, as ever muscle in his body screamed for respite.

"I'm fine," he would grumble to Tenzo or Yugao, swatting away their hands when they tried to feel his forehead or neck to confirm their suspicions.

But that was a long time ago. That was before he met you.

He never swatted your hands away. Rather, he yearned for your touch the moment it ceased, sometimes whining faintly so you would brush your fingers through his hair, over his cheek soothingly.

Kakashi did not think he had ever craved anything as much as your touch. Not his favorite foods or books. Not even the bleak release of death during his darkest moments.

When you were near him, the awful thoughts quieted, the weight of the world--of his loved ones' sacrifices--lifted just a fraction. He felt like he could breathe easier as long as the two of you shared the same air.

The first time he'd fallen ill, there had been no pretense. He'd simply returned from a mission in rain-soked Amegakure with wet feet and an awful, racking cough. He hadn't even thought to tell you, to take himself off the active duty roster to recuperate.

But then you'd showed up at his door, expression immediately concerned as you reached out to press your wrist against his forehead, frowning when you felt the heat radiating from his skin.

"Are you sick?" you'd asked. He'd shrugged even as his teeth chattered. And then, to Kakashi's utter surprise, you'd dedicated yourself wholly to taking care of him. You made him miso soup, wrapped him in warm, fuzzy blankets you brought from your own house (Kakashi had no such thing in his apartment). You put soothing balm under his nose, made him tea steeped with echinacea. You stopped at the Hokage Tower to let the chunin at the mission desk know he needed to be put on sick leave.

It had all felt so natural, even as it was also foreign. Kakashi could not remember someone ever taking care of him in such a way, though he was sure there had been a time when Sakumo had done so--gingerly placing a warm cloth on his son's forehead between misssions. Kakashi wondered if his mother had ever done the same, when he was far too small to remember.

And it had felt good to be cared for. Fretted over. The warmth of his fever was nothing compared to that which bloomed in his chest as you bustled around his apartment, tidying up because he "needed to rest." You were so naturally good at taking care of others--taking care of him. It made him all the more grateful to have found you.

So the next time he was sick, he didn't think anyone could blame him for milking it just a little. Forcing his coughs to sound a bit raspier, looking up at you with pleading, pathetic eyes when he told you he was cold and could you come here and warm him up.

Now, though, Pakkun had clearly caught on to his game. Kakashi was grateful his summons had at least waited until you left the room to thoroughly sniff his cheek and then gruffly accuse him, "You're not sick anymore, what are you doing?"

What was he doing? Surely you had more important things to attend to than warming a bowl of soup for him and sitting beside him on the bed as he feebly ate.

But wasn't he allowed to be just a little selfish? All those years pushing through the pain of injury and illness... didn't he deserve a little extra care now that he'd found the person who made him feel worthy of it?

You returned to the room with a steaming bowl in one hand and a glass of water in the other. Kakashi recognized the telltale fizz of one of the electrolyte tabs you sometimes dropped in "to make sure you're well-hydrated."

They turned his urine a strange shade of pale orange, but Kakashi didn't have the heart to tell you they were probably just overpriced B-vitamins.

"He isn't sick anymore."

Betrayal, white hot and instantaneous, lanced through him. Kakashi's head whipped toward Pakkun who scratched at one ear with his hind paw, utterly unconcerned.

Kakashi expected you to frown, to chastize him for taking advantage of your goodness.

Instead, you chuckled, which grabbed both his and Pakkun's attention.

When he met your gaze, your smile was full of love Kakashi thought his fever might have returned full force with how warm he suddenly felt, basking in it.

"You think I don't know that?" you asked, and Kakashi felt his cheeks flare with new heat that had nothing to do with his cold. "I don't mind indulging him a little."

You crossed the room and set his lunch on the bedside table, perching on the edge of the bed as you leaned in to kiss his cheek. You combed your fingers through his hair, still smiling, as you added, "Besides, I know he'll make it up to me in other ways."

Pakkun grumbled something vaguely insulting as he hopped off the end of the bed and padded his way out of the room.

Kakashi didn't bother to ask him to repeat himself or chide him for his rudeness. Instead, knowing full well he was no longer sick and so he couldn't pass his illness to you, he pulled you into a sweet, lingering, grateful kiss.

You were right, he would certainly be making this up to you and more.