#and because of injuries and trades and what have you he always by the end of the season he ended up playing top pair minutes

[jonasiegenthaler]

Sorry to be bearer of bad news but the Devils are considering trading Severson’s negotiation rights prior to free agency

I’ll miss you, Damon

Will remember that OT goal against the Rangers forever

i know i saw :(

tbf i've been prepared for this since before the season began, the minute we drafted nemec (and casey) it was only a matter of time devils won't be able to pay him what he's worth and keeping him creates a logjam on the right so i guess at least they'll get a return for him if they trade his rights?

idk i'll miss him though, i'm one of maybe 5 people who doesn't think he's all that bad, he was great in the playoffs and really good for our defensive depth overall, having someone like him on the third pair is a luxury i think this team might end up missing a little next year depending on who replaces him there

[sinful-mind-joyful-thoughts]

ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ʀᴏᴍᴇs ʀᴜʟᴇ

⤷ Credits: Pinterest

Marcus Acacius x Wife!reader | WC : 10k | Proof read : NO | Navigation | Notifications | asks : OPEN | Under a False Alter

Summary: The deeper levels of both you and Marcus are revealed to one another

Warnings: DUB-CON (Forced/Arranged marriage), ANGSTY, gladiator battles, gore, blood, PTSD, scars, injury, corrupt people, exploitation

A/n: Hey everyone, the new part is finally posted! I've been really busy lately. For those who don't know, I'm a teaching assistant and I also coach cheer and dance at our school. I've been busy getting stuff done for that, so sorry for the wait. Please enjoy! P.S. Sorry, I didn't have time to proofread. (i combined your asks in my own way but sadly there no smut @theamunsonsworld?)

The last day of your honeymoon dawned with a soft, golden light that bathed the villa in gentle warmth. As you and Marcus made your way back to your father's villa in a horse-drawn carriage, the rhythmic clatter of the wheels on the cobblestones filled the silence. Marcus watched the passing scenery, his eyes distant and thoughtful.

Breaking the silence, Marcus turned to you, his brow furrowed. "You know," he began, his tone serious, "when your father brought up that ridiculous expectation over dinner, I had to stop myself from laughing."

You looked at him, surprised. "Laughing? Why?"

"Because," Marcus said, leaning back against the cushioned seat, "the idea that we could just decide to have a child on a whim as if it were that simple, is absurd. Your father lives in a world of his own making sometimes."

You let out a bitter laugh, the weight of the conversation settling in. "He’s always been like that—demanding, controlling. It’s as if he forgets I’m a person, not just a means to an end."

Marcus nodded, a sympathetic look in his eyes. "The expectations of Rome can be suffocating. But we can try to live differently, take our time, even find ways to see your mother."

A spark of hope flickered within you. "It sounds wonderful, but it feels like a distant dream."

Marcus shifted closer, his voice firm yet gentle. "It doesn’t have to be. We can make it a reality, bit by bit."

Your gaze fell, the words heavy on your tongue. "I’ve been rebellious my whole life, Marcus. But the truth is, as a woman, I have no choice. I’m trapped in these roles."

His hand found yours again, squeezing gently. "You’ve always had a fire in you. That spirit is what drew me to you."

A wave of emotions crashed over you, frustration mingling with gratitude. "Sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it. Fighting, resisting, when it feels like nothing ever changes."

"You’ve already changed so much," Marcus reassured you. "And together, we can push further. We can find ways to see your mother. She deserves to know you’re thinking of her."

Your heart ached with longing, the image of your mother vivid in your mind. "I want that more than anything. To have her back in my life, even if only for a while."

Marcus smiled, his expression softening. "We’ll figure it out. Maybe we can travel under the guise of visiting trade routes or exploring new markets. There’s always a way."

You looked at him, a smile breaking through despite everything. "You always find the silver lining, don’t you?"

He chuckled, his eyes bright. "Someone has to. Besides, it’s easier with you by my side."

You felt a surge of gratitude for Marcus, for his understanding and support. "Thank you, Marcus. For everything."

He smiled softly, his eyes filled with warmth. "We're in this together. No matter what happens, we'll face it together."

As the silence settled between you, Marcus’s gaze turned contemplative. "Have you ever thought about having kids? I mean, not now, but in the future."

You blinked, slightly taken aback by the question. "Kids? I suppose I have, but not for a long time. I'm only eighteen, Marcus. There's so much I want to do first."

Marcus nodded, understanding but curious. "What do you want to do before that?"

You sighed, the weight of your dreams pressing against the confines of your reality. "I want to see the world, and experience things beyond the confines of my father's estate. I want to spend time with my mother, and really get to know her again. And... I want to build something with you, something that’s ours, without the shadow of my family's expectations hanging over us."

Marcus's curiosity was piqued. "An addition?"

You nodded, a determined look in your eyes. "I want us to live in the villa. The one where we honeymooned and where I spent my childhood. It holds so many memories, and it's the one place that feels like home to me."

Marcus's expression softened. "The villa? That place is beautiful. I can see why you'd want to make it our home."

"It's more than just beautiful," you explained. "It's where I felt happiest, where my mother and I had some of our best times before everything fell apart. It feels like a safe haven, and I want to create new, happy memories there with you."

He squeezed your hand, his eyes searching yours. "And you think having kids would interfere with that?"

"Not interfere, exactly," you clarified, trying to articulate your feelings. "It's just... I want to be ready. I want to be in a place where I feel secure and happy, where I know I can give them the love and stability they deserve. And right now, I'm not there yet. We’re not there yet."

Marcus tilted his head, a teasing smile playing on his lips. "So, you're saying you need more time to figure things out? Typical."

You narrowed your eyes at him, a playful glint in your gaze. "And what's that supposed to mean, exactly?"

He chuckled, his laugh a warm, familiar sound. "Just that you're always planning, always thinking ahead. Sometimes, I think you should just live in the moment a little more."

You huffed, a mock frown forming on your face. "Oh, and I suppose you're the expert on living in the moment?"

"Absolutely," he said with a grin, leaning back and folding his arms behind his head. "I am the very definition of spontaneous."

You rolled your eyes, unable to suppress a smile. "Right, because nothing says 'spontaneous' like planning out our every move on this journey."

"Hey, that was different," he defended, though his eyes twinkled with amusement. "I was being responsible, making sure we didn't end up stranded in the middle of nowhere."

You shook your head, laughing softly. "You know, sometimes I think you just like arguing with me."

He leaned forward, his expression turning serious but his eyes still warm. "Maybe I do. But only because I care about you. And I want to make sure we're on the same page about our future."

You softened, feeling the sincerity in his words. "I know, Marcus. And I appreciate it. I really do. We'll get there, together. But right now, I need to focus on the present, on getting my mother to the villa and figuring out our next steps."

Marcus nodded, his expression resolute. "Then that's what we'll do. Together."

The carriage came to a halt after the long journey. You were back at your father’s palace. The first person in your line of sight was Aurelia, standing tall and poised beside your father. Her presence always brought a mixture of emotions—resentment, bitterness, and a grudging respect for her unyielding confidence. Your father, ever the imposing figure, stood with his arms crossed, a stern expression on his face.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself as Marcus helped you down from the carriage. His hand was a reassuring anchor in the sea of emotions swirling inside you. Your mind raced with thoughts—fear, anticipation, and a deep-seated dread. The memory of the villa, your mother's isolation, and your father's control weighed heavily on you. And now, the nagging worry that you might not be pregnant gnawed at your insides. You had to face them both with a facade of calm.

Marcus’s grip on your hand tightened slightly as you approached your father and Aurelia. He had always been your guide, your support, and now was no different. His presence gave you the strength to lift your chin and meet their gaze head-on.

“Welcome back,” your father said, his voice cold and detached. “I trust your journey was uneventful.”

“It was fine, Father,” you replied, forcing a polite smile. “Thank you for asking.”

Aurelia’s eyes glinted with a mixture of amusement and malice. “You look well,” she said, her tone dripping with false sweetness. “I’m sure the trip was good for you both.”

Before you could respond, your father turned his gaze to Marcus, his eyes narrowing. “Did you manage to fulfill your duties, Marcus? I trust you took full advantage of the... solitude?”

You felt Marcus stiffen beside you, his grip on your hand tightening. “Our trip was about more than just that, Sir,” Marcus replied evenly, though you could sense the tension in his voice.

Your father wasn’t satisfied. “More than that? Do you understand the gravity of your position, Marcus? My daughter’s primary responsibility is to produce an heir. Have you been diligent in your efforts, or have you been wasting time?”

Anger flared inside you, and you stepped forward, your voice sharp. “That’s quite inappropriate, Father. Our trip was about reconnecting and planning our future.”

Your father raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Your future is already decided. You are to produce an heir. Everything else is secondary.”

Marcus intervened, his voice calm and measured. “With all due respect, Sir, building a strong foundation for our future is essential for the well-being of our potential children. It ensures they are brought into a stable and loving environment, which, in the long term, benefits your legacy.”

You bristled at your father’s invasive question, but Marcus’s reasoning was sound. Your father’s eyes flickered with a hint of consideration before hardening again. “Your pretty words won’t change the facts. An heir is needed. Quickly.”

Aurelia’s laughter cut through the air, sharp and vindictive. “Now, now, let’s not get heated. We’re all family here, aren’t we?”

You shot her a glare, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Oh, yes, family. How could I forget?”

Aurelia continued, her tone saccharine. “Your father only wants what’s best for you. We all do.”

Marcus stepped in, his voice calm but firm. “We understand the expectations, but we also need to live our lives the way we see fit. The stability and happiness of our family should come first.”

Your father’s eyes narrowed further. “You will do as you’re told. You owe it to this family.”

The tension in the air was palpable, and you felt your frustration boiling over. “I owe this family nothing. I’ve been controlled and manipulated my entire life. I won’t stand for it any longer.”

Aurelia stepped closer, her presence imposing. “Let’s not forget our manners, dear. We all have roles to play, and you must play yours.”

Your temper flared at her condescension, the years of resentment bubbling to the surface. “And what exactly is my role, Aurelia? To be paraded around like a prize, while you sit here on your high horse?”

Aurelia’s smile was icy. “Careful, sister. Your jealousy is showing. Not everyone is cut out for greatness.”

You took a step forward, hand twitching with the urge to slap her. “Jealousy? Of you? Don’t make me laugh.”

Before you could act on your impulse, Marcus gently but firmly grasped your arm, pulling you back. “Enough,” he said quietly, his voice a mix of warning and concern.

Aurelia’s smirk widened, sensing victory. “Always the temperamental one. It’s a wonder Marcus puts up with you.”

You were about to retort when a maid hurried into the courtyard, her face pale and anxious. “My lord, my lady,” she addressed your father and Aurelia, glancing nervously at you. “I have urgent news.”

Your father’s stern expression softened slightly. “Speak.”

The maid took a deep breath. “Lady Aurelia is with child.”

Aurelia’s triumphant smile was instantaneous, and she looked at you with smug satisfaction. “Looks like I’ll be fulfilling my role just fine.”

You felt as if the ground had dropped from beneath you. The news hit you hard, a mix of emotions swirling inside you—anger, hurt, and a deep-seated fear of being overshadowed.

Your father stepped forward, his gaze heavy with expectation. “I hope to hear the same from you soon,” he said, his tone a blend of command and disappointment. “But for now, I have work to do and a marriage to finalize with your mother. We’ll speak more of this later.”

Marcus tightened his grip on your arm, sensing your rising fury. “Let’s go,” he murmured, practically dragging you away before you could lash out further.

As you walked briskly away from the courtyard, you seethed. “How dare she? How dare he?” you muttered, your mind racing with thoughts of betrayal and injustice.

Marcus slowed his pace, his expression one of deep concern. “You can’t let them get to you like this.”

“How can I not?” you shot back, your voice trembling with emotion. “She always wins, always gets the praise, and now this? And Father... he doesn’t even see me.”

Marcus stopped, turning to face you fully. “I see you. I’ve always seen you. And I love you for who you are, not for any role you’re supposed to play.”

His words were meant to comfort, but the pain of your father’s disregard and Aurelia’s gloating was too fresh, too raw. “It’s not enough,” you whispered, tears stinging your eyes. “I need to be more than just... tolerated.”

Arriving at your bedchamber, you muttered under your breath, “He wants to finalize the marriage with my mother. To bind us even more to his plans.”

Marcus closed the door behind you, his eyes filled with a mix of concern and determination. You stood there for a moment, the weight of everything crashing down on you, before the rage started to build. The anger that had been simmering all day erupted like a volcano.

“Gods, Marcus, I can’t take this anymore!” you screamed, your voice breaking with the force of your emotions. “Every single thing he does, every decision he makes, it’s all about control. He treats us like pawns, like we’re nothing more than pieces on his chessboard!”

Marcus watched you, his face stoic, but his eyes were full of understanding. He knew you needed to get it all out, to release the torrent of fury that had been building for so long.

You began to pace the room, your hands clenched into fists. “He wants nothing to do with my mother, and now he’s probably scheming to marry her off to some other noble. It’s like she’s just another tool to be used! And Aurelia—gods, I hate her. She’s always gloating, always scheming. She thinks she can replace my mother and secure her own power. And now, she’s pregnant before me. Pregnant! Not that I want to be pregnant, but she’s doing it just to spite me, just to rub it in my face!”

Your movements became more erratic, your pacing more frantic. “And my mother, what will happen to her? She’ll be left with nothing. Nothing! While Aurelia parades around, acting like she owns everything. She’s pregnant, Marcus, and everyone will fawn over her, praise her, while I’m just... just here. Expected to play a role, to be a good little pawn in his game.”

You stopped pacing abruptly, turning to Marcus with fire in your eyes. “And do you know what I want? I just want to be with you. I want to fuck my new husband without having to think about heirs and duties and all this... this bullshit! Is that so much to ask?”

Tears of pure rage welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision. You wiped them away furiously, refusing to let them fall. “I hate him, Marcus. I hate the way he makes me feel, the way he manipulates everything to suit his own needs. And I hate that I feel so powerless against him.”

Marcus stepped closer, his hands outstretched, but you waved him off, needing to continue venting. “And it’s not just him. It’s everything. The way Aurelia gloats, the way the servants look at me with pity, the endless expectations and demands. I can’t even breathe without feeling like I’m disappointing someone. It’s suffocating!”

Your voice broke as you continued, the tears finally spilling over. But they weren’t tears of sadness—they were tears of anger, of frustration, of sheer, unadulterated fury. “I’m so tired of feeling trapped, of feeling like I’m not good enough. I want to live my own life, make my own choices. I want to be free, Marcus. Is that too much to ask?”

You turned to him, your chest heaving with the effort of releasing all your pent-up anger. Marcus stepped forward and pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly. You resisted at first, but then you let yourself sink into his embrace, the fury still burning inside you but tempered by his presence.

“I love you,” Marcus whispered, his voice steady and calm. “I love you for who you are, not for who you’re supposed to be. You’re not alone in this. We’ll find a way.”

His words were few, but they were like a balm to your raging soul. You clung to him, letting the tears flow freely now, your body shaking with the force of your emotions. “I just want to be free,” you whispered, your voice broken but determined.

Marcus held you tighter, his hand gently stroking your hair. “We will be,” he promised. “We’ll find a way to break free from all of this. Together.”

You cried into his shoulder, your tears soaking his shirt, but he didn’t seem to mind. He just held you, his presence a steady anchor in the storm of your emotions. Slowly, the fury began to ebb, replaced by a weary resolve.

“We’ll get through this,” Marcus said softly, his voice full of conviction. “One step at a time. And we won’t let him win. Not now, not ever.”

You nodded against his shoulder, the fire inside you still burning but now directed towards a purpose. “We’ll fight,” you agreed, your voice steadying. “We’ll fight for our freedom, for our future. Together.”

Marcus pulled back slightly, cupping your face in his hands. “Together,” he echoed, his eyes full of love and determination.

You took a deep breath, feeling a new sense of resolve. The road ahead would be difficult, but you were ready to face it. With Marcus by your side, you knew you could overcome anything. And you would—no matter what it took.

As you pulled back from Marcus, your eyes met his, and you felt a flicker of hope. But then reality crashed back in. “But what if things don’t change, Marcus? What if life in Rome is just more of the same? More schemes, more manipulation?”

Marcus sighed his brow furrowing in thought. “Life in Rome will have its challenges, no doubt. The politics, the power plays—it won’t be easy. But we’ll navigate it together. We’ve faced worse before, and we’ve come out stronger.”

The truth of his words resonated with you, but the anger still simmered beneath the surface. “I just wish we didn’t have to play these games. I want to live, Marcus. Really live.”

He nodded, his expression serious. “And we will. We’ll find moments of peace, places where we can be ourselves. Just like the beach. We’ll make our own freedom, carve out our own happiness. It won’t be easy, but it will be worth it.”

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm inside you. “I’m just so tired of fighting. Tired of always being on edge.”

Marcus pulled you close again, his embrace strong and reassuring. “I know. But you’re not alone in this fight. We’ll face it together, and we’ll find a way to create the life we want. No matter what it takes.”

You leaned into his embrace, feeling a mix of exhaustion and determination. The road ahead was uncertain, but with Marcus by your side, you felt a glimmer of hope. Together, you would face whatever challenges came your way, and together, you would find a way to break free from the chains that bound you.

“My lord, there’s—” the guard started, but you pulled away from Marcus, not wanting anyone to see you so vulnerable.

“What is it?” you snapped, your voice sharp.

The guard hesitated, clearly taken aback by your tone. “There’s a situation in the courtyard. Your father demands your presence immediately.”

You exchanged a worried glance with Marcus before standing. “Fine. Tell him we’re coming.”

As the guard left, you turned to Marcus, your earlier anger rekindling. “This never ends, does it? He won’t even let me have a moment of peace.”

Marcus squeezed your hand, his touch reassuring. “We’ll handle it. Together.”

As you walked with Marcus toward the courtyard, the weight of unspoken words hung between you. Your frustration bubbled up, manifesting in a sharp, sarcastic tone. “Another grand announcement from my dear father. How thrilling.”

Marcus squeezed your hand gently, trying to calm the storm inside you. “We’ll face it together.”

In the courtyard, your father stood at the center, flanked by Aurelia and a handful of stern-faced servants. His piercing gaze locked onto you and Marcus as you approached.

“Well, isn’t this just a picture-perfect family moment?” you said, your voice dripping with irony.

Your father’s expression hardened. “Enough. This is a matter of utmost importance.”

You sighed, preparing for yet another lecture, but your father’s voice turned icy and commanding. “We’ve received correspondence from the Emperor. He demands your and Marcus’s presence at the palace immediately.”

Marcus’s calm demeanor shattered as he took the letter from your father’s outstretched hand. His face paled as he read the contents.

“What does it say?” you asked, trying to peek over his shoulder. But Marcus remained silent, his eyes fixed on the letter, brows furrowed in concern.

Your father’s voice cut through the tense silence. “You are to leave at dawn. Be prepared.”

Marcus nodded stiffly. “We will.”

As you turned to leave, Aurelia’s mocking tone echoed behind you. “Do try not to disgrace the family.”

The knot in your stomach tightened with each step you took away from the courtyard. “Marcus, what’s in the letter?”

He didn’t respond, his silence only amplifying your anxiety. When you reached your chambers, he finally turned to face you, worry etched into his features.

“Marcus, what’s going on?” you asked, your voice trembling.

He exhaled deeply, running a hand through his hair. “The Emperor has summoned us. This isn’t a polite request; it’s a command. Refusing isn’t an option.”

Your heart raced as you processed his words. “But why? What does the Emperor want with us?”

Marcus’s expression darkened. “It’s about the gladiators. He wants my insights on the performance of the newest recruits.”

You blinked in disbelief. “Gladiators? Why does he care about your opinion on that?”

Marcus’s laugh was bitter, a sound you rarely heard from him. “Because I wasn’t always a general. I was once a gladiator. The Emperor thinks my perspective is valuable.”

Sarcasm bubbled up as you tried to cope with the mounting fear. “So we’re just part of his entertainment now? I know how gladiators work, Marcus.”

His eyes flashed with a sudden coldness, his voice slicing through your sarcasm. “No, you don’t. You’ve never been in the arena, fighting for your life. You’ve never faced that horror.”

You recoiled at the intensity of his response. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just...”

“Just what?” he snapped. “Think it’s easy? Think it’s something I want to revisit? The Emperor wants to parade my past, to judge others as I was judged. It’s a matter of life and death for those men.”

Your anger melted away, replaced by a creeping fear. “Marcus, I’m sorry. I didn’t understand.”

He cut you off, his voice low and fierce. “I want nothing to do with that life. But I’m not foolish enough to disobey the Emperor again.”

You stared at him, your own emotions swirling inside you. “So what do we do?”

Marcus was like a stone wall as he spoke, his voice steady and unyielding. “We go. We play their game. The upbringing you despise, the training that shaped me—it has to be on full display. Emperor Geta and Emperor Caracalla are not kind rulers. They won't hesitate to use anyone for their own gain.”

A bitter laugh escaped you. “You just saw me scream and yell. I’m not exactly the epitome of grace and strategy.”

Marcus’s expression softened for a moment, a hint of a smile touching his lips. “You’re more than you realize. But we need to be careful. They’re not just rulers; they’re predators. We have to show them strength, unity.”

You shook your head, the weight of it all pressing down on you. “I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe, Marcus. I won’t let them drag you back into that life. I won’t let them take you away from me.”

He reached out, cupping your face in his hands. “I love you,” he said, his voice filled with fierce tenderness. “But we have to be smart about this. We need to present a united front, show them we’re not to be trifled with.”

You nodded, your resolve hardening. “Together, then. We face them together.”

Marcus pulled you into a tight embrace, his warmth grounding you amidst the turmoil. “We’ll get through this,” he whispered. “We have to.”

As you and Marcus entered the grand hall of the palace, the air was thick with tension. The towering pillars and opulent decorations did little to mask the underlying menace that seemed to permeate the room. Emperor Geta and Emperor Caracalla sat upon their thrones, their eyes narrowing as they took in the sight of Marcus and you approaching.

“Well, well, if it isn’t our esteemed gladiator,” Geta drawled, his voice dripping with condescension. “And his rebellious bride. How charming.”

Caracalla’s gaze was colder, more calculating. “It’s been some time, Marcus. I trust you’ve found civilized life to your liking?”

Marcus’s face remained impassive, but you could feel the tension in his body beside you. “I serve as I am commanded, Your Majesties.”

Geta smirked, his eyes flicking to you. “And your wife. How interesting that you chose to marry someone with such a... colorful history. Tell me, my dear, do you still harbor those rebellious thoughts?”

A chill ran down your spine at his words, and you forced yourself to remain calm. “I am loyal to my husband and to the throne,” you said, hoping your voice didn’t betray your fear.

Caracalla leaned forward, his gaze piercing. “We shall see. Loyalty is tested in the most unexpected ways.”

Your mind raced as you tried to gauge their intentions. The emperors had made Marcus a gladiator, using him for their entertainment and power. Now they were testing you both, probing for any signs of defiance. You knew this was more than a mere audience; it was a test of your loyalty and a way to ensure you posed no threat to their rule.

“I understand your concerns, Your Majesties,” Marcus said, his voice steady and controlled. “But I assure you, we have no intention of going against the throne.”

Geta chuckled the sound grating on your nerves. “Intentions can change. We simply want to make sure you remember where your loyalties lie.”

You swallowed hard, feeling a surge of fear. This was your chance to protect your mother, to ensure she wasn’t caught in the crossfire of political games. If you could gain the emperor’s favor, perhaps they would leave her alone. As the conversation continued, your mind churned with thoughts of her. She had always been a pawn in these power struggles, and you couldn’t bear the thought of her suffering because of your actions. You needed to be careful, to play their game and show them you were no threat.

But despite your efforts to remain composed, your nerves betrayed you. Your hands trembled slightly, and you felt a cold sweat break out on your forehead. You glanced at Marcus, hoping for some reassurance. His eyes met yours, and in that moment, you found an unspoken comfort. His presence was a steady anchor, grounding you amidst the storm of your emotions.

Marcus noticed your fear, and though he didn’t say anything, his hand subtly brushed against yours, a silent promise that he was there for you. His strength and unwavering support bolstered your resolve, giving you the courage to face the emperors.

Caracalla’s gaze shifted between you and Marcus, a cruel smile playing on his lips. “We shall see how well you fare under scrutiny. Your loyalty will be tested, both of you.”

Geta’s expression darkened. “Do not forget, Marcus, that we made you what you are. And we can unmake you just as easily.”

Marcus’s jaw tightened, but he remained composed. “I am aware.”

The emperors exchanged a satisfied glance, clearly enjoying their display of power. “You are dismissed,” Geta said, waving a hand dismissively. “Remember, we are always watching.”

As you and Marcus turned to leave, your heart pounded in your chest. The encounter had been a stark reminder of the precariousness of your situation. You were walking a tightrope, balancing your need to protect your family with the constant threat of imperial retribution.

Once you were outside the hall, you let out a shaky breath. Marcus pulled you into a quiet alcove, his hands gently cupping your face. But instead of finding solace in his touch, you saw the fear in his eyes, a deep-rooted terror that mirrored your own.

“Marcus,” you whispered, your voice trembling, “are you alright?”

He tried to muster a reassuring smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m fine,” he said, but the lie was thin, transparent.

You took his hand, feeling the tremor in his fingers. “No, you’re not. You’re scared.”

Marcus’s eyes darted away, his shoulders tensing. “I can’t go back to that life,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t be their pawn again.”

You felt a surge of protectiveness, the same anger that had fueled you the day before now burning on his behalf. “We won’t let them do that to you,” you said fiercely. “I won’t let them.”

His gaze snapped back to you, a mixture of fear and desperation in his eyes. “How can you be so sure? They’re the emperors. They can do whatever they want.”

You squeezed his hand, pulling him closer. “Because we’re stronger together. And we won’t let them break us.”

He took a shuddering breath, his eyes searching yours. “I don’t want to go back to that place,” he said, his voice breaking. “The things I did, the things I saw...”

You wrapped your arms around him, holding him tight. “You’re not alone, Marcus. I’m here with you.”

For a moment, he clung to you, his body shaking with the force of his emotions. Then, he pulled back, his eyes haunted. “Sometimes, it’s like I’m still there. Like I never left.”

You felt a pang of fear for him, a deep concern that he was showing signs of something you couldn’t quite understand but knew was serious. “We’ll get through this,” you said, your voice steady. “But right now, we need to get to our room. You need to rest.”

He nodded, his grip on your hand tightening. Together, you made your way back to your chambers, the weight of the day pressing down on you both. Once inside, you closed the door and guided him to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Talk to me,” you urged gently. “Tell me what’s going on in your mind.”

Marcus’s eyes were distant, as if he was seeing something far away. “It’s like... like I can hear the crowds again. Feel the sand under my feet, the weight of the sword in my hand. The fear, the anger—it all comes rushing back.”

You knelt before him, taking his hands in yours. “You’re not there anymore. You’re here with me.”

He shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “But I’m not, am I? I’m always going to be that gladiator to them. A tool to be used, a spectacle to be enjoyed.”

Your heart ached for him, for the pain he was reliving. “Marcus, look at me.”

His eyes met yours, and you saw the depth of his fear, the scars that ran deeper than you had realized.

“You’re not just a gladiator,” you said firmly. “You’re my husband. You’re a general, a leader, a man with a future. And we’re going to get through this together. We’re going to show them that they don’t control us.”

He took a deep breath, some of the tension easing from his shoulders. “I don’t know if I can do this,” he admitted. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough.”

“You are,” you said, your voice unwavering. “And when you feel like you can’t go on, I’ll be here to hold you up. Just like you’ve always done for me.”

He pulled you into his arms, holding you close. “Thank you,” he whispered. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You rested your head against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. “You’ll never have to find out,” you murmured. “We’re in this together, no matter what.”

Marcus held you for a few moments longer, then pulled back slightly, his hands still resting on your shoulders. “Can we talk about something else?” he asked, his voice tinged with weariness. “I need to take my mind off all of this.”

You nodded, offering a small smile. “Of course. Actually, when I was in the carriage, I was brushing up on my Latin. Just in case the emperors decided to make things even more difficult by not speaking English.”

His brow furrowed slightly. “The carriage? I was wondering what you were saying to the driver.”

A laugh broke through his tense demeanor, the sound lifting some of the weight between you. “Latin, huh? How’s that going?”

You shrugged, feeling a bit more at ease. “Not too bad, actually. Although, I think I might have accidentally told the driver that his mother is a donkey.”

Marcus chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement. “Well, I’m sure he appreciated the compliment.”

You playfully swatted his arm. “Hey, I’m trying here! Besides, it’s not like I had much else to do.”

He shook his head, still smiling. “Come here,” he said, his voice softer now as he pulled you into his lap, guiding you to straddle him. His hands settled on your hips, and you could feel the warmth of his body through your clothes.

You relaxed against him, your arms looping around his neck. “I missed this,” you admitted, your fingers tracing gentle patterns on his skin. “Just being us.”

“Me too,” he murmured, his hands moving up your back in a soothing motion. “It feels like everything’s been so chaotic lately.”

You nodded, resting your forehead against his. “But we have each other, and that’s what matters.”

He smiled, a genuine warmth in his eyes. “Always.”

For a while, you sat there in comfortable silence, the tension from the day slowly melting away. You exchanged light-hearted banter, your bickering and teasing gradually returning to the easy rhythm you both cherished.

“Remember when we first met?” you asked, a smile tugging at your lips.

Marcus’s eyes lit up with the memory. “How could I forget? You were trying to run away from our arranged marriage and fell off the horse you were riding.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I was so determined to escape. I didn’t even realize how dangerous it was.”

He chuckled softly. “You were fierce, that’s for sure. Maybe I should teach you how to ride properly.”

You raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in your eye. “Are we still talking about horses?”

Marcus’s grin widened, his eyes darkening with playful intent. “Depends. Do you want a lesson?”

You leaned in, your breath mingling with his. “Only if you promise to be a very hands-on teacher.”

He kissed you back, his hands tightening on your hips. “Oh, I’ll make sure you get all the practice you need.”

You pulled back slightly, your expression turning more serious. “Marcus, can I ask you something?”

He nodded, his gaze steady. “Of course. Anything.”

You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts. “What do you think about kids? How many would you want? And… do you have any names in mind?”

Marcus looked thoughtful, his brow furrowing slightly. “I’ve always wanted a big family,” he said slowly. “Maybe three or four kids. I think it would be nice for them to have siblings, to grow up with a sense of family and support.”

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words. “I’d like that too. And names?”

He smiled, a distant look in his eyes. “I’ve always liked the name Alexander for a boy. And maybe Lucia for a girl. Strong names, with history and meaning.”

You nodded, feeling a sense of contentment. “I like those names. They feel… right.”

He hesitated for a moment, then looked at you with a mixture of concern and vulnerability. “Is there something else on your mind?”

You bit your lip, feeling a bit nervous. “Actually, yes. I was wondering… could you stop cumming inside of me every time we… you know, make love?”

Marcus blinked, clearly taken aback by your request. “Why? Is something wrong?”

You shook your head quickly. “No, nothing’s wrong. It’s just… I want to make sure we’re both ready when we decide to have children. I don’t want to rush into it because of… well, an accident.”

He looked relieved, then thoughtful. “I understand. I just… I guess I hadn’t really thought about it that way.”

You smiled, cupping his face in your hands. “I love you, Marcus. And I want us to build our family together when we’re both ready.”

He nodded, a soft smile playing on his lips. “You’re right. We should be deliberate about this. I promise, I’ll be more careful.”

You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “Thank you.”

He kissed you back, his hands moving to cradle your face. “I love you. More than anything.”

You rested your forehead against his, feeling a deep sense of peace. “We’ll get through this, Marcus. Whatever happens, we’ll face it together.”

He nodded, his eyes filled with love and determination. “Together.”

You sat in the coliseum, the roaring crowd around you a stark contrast to the turmoil within. The naval battle below was a spectacle of chaos and violence, the clash of cannons reverberating through the air, each blast sending shockwaves that you could feel in your chest. Ships collided with bone-jarring force, the sound of wood splintering and men shouting echoing through the vast arena.

The emperors insisted on your attention. Emperor Geta’s voice cut through the noise, a chilling command. “Watch closely, my dear. This is the true essence of power.”

You forced yourself to turn back to the spectacle. A cannonball ripped through the hull of a ship, sending debris and bodies flying. The water turned red with blood, the cries of the dying blending with the roar of the crowd. Your stomach twisted, and you clenched your hands in your lap, willing the nausea to pass.

You tried to focus on the details, finding yourself strangely drawn to the movements and strategies of the combatants. You rooted silently for the ship you wanted to see survive, your heart racing with each close call. The emperors watched you closely, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and amusement. They seemed to thrive on the chaos, their power evident in the way they manipulated those around them.

Emperor Caracalla leaned in, his voice dripping with malice. “Do you see how they struggle? Like ants in a flood, all their efforts meaningless. Yet, it's so entertaining.”

You nodded absently, your mind half-focused on the battle. The cruelty of the emperors was a constant presence, but you found yourself oddly captivated by the sheer spectacle of the naval engagement. Each cannon blast, each desperate maneuver, drew you in deeper.

Marcus was away, speaking with the other generals, his face drawn and pale when he returned. He immediately noticed your distress. “Are you alright?” he asked, his voice low and urgent.

You shook your head, unable to find the words. He took your hand, squeezing it gently, his own fear and worry evident in his eyes. “I hate this,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “But I can’t look away.”

Marcus’s eyes darkened with understanding. “That’s their power,” he said softly. “They make us complicit in their cruelty.”

Emperor Geta’s voice interrupted your exchange. “Ah, Marcus. Come, sit with us. Enjoy the show.”

Reluctantly, Marcus guided you to sit beside him, his grip on your hand tight. The emperors’ attention shifted back to the battle, their comments filled with a sickly admiration for the carnage. “Look at that,” Geta exclaimed as another ship went down, “such bravery wasted on a lost cause.”

Caracalla chuckled darkly. “Indeed. It’s fascinating how they cling to hope even in the face of certain death.”

Marcus’s jaw clenched, his eyes filled with a mix of anger and sadness. He leaned in closer to you. “They won’t talk about the true cost,” he said, his voice barely audible. “The lives lost, the families left behind. To them, it’s all just a game.”

You nodded, your hand tightening around his. The brutal display below was more than just a show; it was a reminder of the emperors' absolute power and the fragility of your position. The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood and the deafening roar of the crowd, a relentless assault on your senses. You could barely focus on the battles, your mind racing with fear and the need to stay strong for Marcus.

The next gladiators entered the arena, their expressions a mixture of determination and resignation. As they clashed, you tried to avoid looking at the bloodshed, but the emperors' voices cut through your resolve. "Watch carefully," Caracalla commanded, his tone devoid of empathy. "This is where men are forged."

Marcus’s hand trembled in yours, and you could feel his heart pounding as if it were your own. He kept his eyes on the fighters, but you could see the haunted look in his gaze, memories of his own time in the arena flooding back. His muscles were tense, every fiber of his being screaming to protect you, to fight against the fate they were trying to impose on you both.

With each brutal kill, the emperors’ excitement grew. They leaned forward, shouting encouragement and jeering at the combatants, their faces alight with sadistic pleasure. "Ah, there it is!" Geta exclaimed as a particularly gruesome decapitation took place. "Such skill, such beauty in the art of death."

You pressed closer to Marcus, trying to shield yourself from the horror unfolding below. "We have to find a way out," you whispered, your voice trembling. "We can’t let them do this to us."

Marcus nodded, his eyes never leaving the arena. "I know," he said, his voice strained. "But we have to be careful. They’re watching our every move."

The next fight began, even more savage than the last. You felt as if you were trapped in a nightmare, unable to escape the relentless violence. Marcus’s grip on your hand was the only thing keeping you grounded, a lifeline in the sea of blood and death.

The emperors’ voices grew louder, their laughter echoing around the coliseum. “You see, Marcus,” Geta said, turning to him with a predatory smile. “This is why we miss you. Your fights were always the highlight, full of glory and gore. These men… they lack your finesse.”

Marcus stiffened beside you, his grip on your hand tightening. You could feel the tension in his muscles, the barely controlled fear and anger simmering beneath the surface. His breath was shallow, his eyes darting nervously around the coliseum. The confident warrior you knew seemed to have vanished, replaced by a man haunted by his past.

Caracalla leaned in, his gaze fixed on the arena below where a mere boy, no older than twelve, was being led out. The tiger, a majestic and deadly creature, prowled on the other side, its eyes gleaming with hunger. “Tell us, Marcus,” Caracalla said with a sinister gleam in his eye, “who do you favor? The boy or the beast?”

A chill ran down your spine, and you found your voice. “This is madness,” you protested, your voice trembling. “He’s just a child!”

Geta’s gaze snapped to you, his eyes cold and unfeeling. “Silence,” he commanded, his tone brooking no argument. “Marcus will speak for himself.”

Marcus’s jaw tightened, his eyes flicking between the boy and the tiger. He looked like a man on the edge, torn between his desire to protect and his fear of the consequences. “Neither,” he said finally, his voice shaky. “This isn’t a fight. It’s a slaughter.”

Caracalla’s laughter was a harsh, grating sound. “Oh, but that’s the beauty of it, isn’t it? The unpredictability, the thrill of survival against impossible odds.”

You wanted to scream, to protest further, but the emperors’ power was absolute. You could only watch in horror as the scene below unfolded. The boy looked terrified, his small frame trembling as he faced the tiger. The crowd’s bloodthirsty roars grew louder, drowning out any semblance of reason.

“Perhaps,” Geta said, his smile never reaching his eyes, “Marcus should fight instead. Show us once again why he was the best.”

Marcus’s hand tightened around yours, the pressure almost painful. You felt his body tremble, each muscle tense with a mixture of fear and anger. His eyes were fixed on the boy and the tiger, a haunted look replacing the confidence you once knew. His breath came in short, sharp gasps, betraying the inner turmoil he was desperately trying to contain.

“No!” you exclaimed, unable to contain yourself. “He’s not your puppet. He’s not here for your entertainment.”

Caracalla’s eyes narrowed, his gaze locking onto you with a predatory intensity. “Such spirit,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Marcus, you are a lucky man.”

The words seemed to cut through Marcus like a blade. He turned to you, his eyes wide and wild. “Stop,” he hissed, his voice low and trembling with fear. “Just stop. You’re making it worse.”

You felt a pang of hurt at his harsh words, but you knew he was scared. You squeezed his hand, trying to offer comfort, but he pulled away, his gaze flicking nervously between you and the emperors.

“Perhaps,” Geta said, his smile never reaching his eyes, “Marcus should fight instead. Show us once again why he was the best.”

Marcus didn’t protest this time. He didn’t argue or try to reason with them. He simply stood there, his body rigid, his face pale. You could see the fear in his eyes, the memories of past battles and bloodshed that haunted him.

“Marcus, please,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “Don’t do this.”

He looked at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of love and desperation. “I have no choice,” he said softly. “They leave me none.”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. "What exactly are the terms?" you asked, your voice firmer than you felt.

The emperors exchanged amused glances. Geta leaned forward, a predatory smile on his lips. "If Marcus wins, he may choose any residence owned by us as a treat for his newlywed wife. A generous offer, wouldn't you say?"

"And if he loses?" you pressed, your stomach twisting with dread.

Caracalla's smile was a twisted mockery of kindness. "If he loses, he will fight for all of Rome again. But this time, he will take the place of the boy who is supposed to fight the lion."

Your blood ran cold at the thought. "This is madness," you whispered, barely able to contain your horror. "You're talking about a man's life as if it's a game."

"Everything is a game, my dear," Geta replied, his tone dripping with condescension. "And Marcus knows the rules better than anyone."

Marcus stood there, his face pale, his body trembling with a mix of fear and determination. He looked at you, his eyes pleading. "I will do what I must," he said softly. "For us."

“No, Marcus, you can't,” you protested, your voice breaking. “There has to be another way.”

He shook his head, his expression pained. “I have no choice,” he repeated, the words a hollow echo of resignation.

Before you could say more, the emperors' guards stepped forward, their grips firm and unyielding as they held you back, you struggled against them, your desperation mounting. “Please, don’t do this,” you pleaded, your voice rising in panic. “He’s not your pawn!”

Geta's cold eyes locked onto you, a cruel smile playing on his lips. “Such fire,” he mused, almost to himself. “But Marcus knows his duty.”

Caracalla laughed, the sound grating and malevolent. “Watch closely, my dear,” he said, his voice dripping with mockery. “You might learn something about true power.”

You felt the blood drain from your face as Marcus turned away, walking slowly toward the arena's entrance. The boy and the tiger were being led back into their cages, the boy’s terrified eyes meeting yours for a fleeting moment before he disappeared from view. Your heart ached for him, but it was Marcus who now faced the same deadly fate.

As the gates closed behind Marcus, you were left standing at the edge of the arena, your hands clenched into fists. The crowd’s roars grew louder, their bloodlust palpable. You sank into your seat, your body trembling with fear and helplessness.

Moments stretched into an eternity, each second marked by the deafening cheers of the spectators. Finally, Marcus emerged, clad in armor and wielding a sword. His face was a mask of determination, but you could see the fear in his eyes. He looked up at you, and you mouthed silently, “I believe in you.”

The gate opposite Marcus creaked open, and the tiger was released. It prowled forward, its muscles rippling under its striped fur, eyes locked onto Marcus with predatory intent. The crowd’s cheers reached a fever pitch, a cacophony of excitement and anticipation.

“Look at him,” Geta murmured to Caracalla, his voice barely audible over the din. “Still has that fire in him, even after all this time.”

Caracalla nodded a twisted smile on his lips. “It’s what makes him so entertaining. Let’s see if he still has the skill to match.”

You clung to your seat, your heart racing as you watched the tiger circle Marcus. Every fiber of your being was focused on him, silently willing him to survive. The arena seemed to shrink, the world narrowing to the deadly dance between man and beast.

Marcus moved with a cautious grace, his sword held steady. The tiger lunged, and he sidestepped, bringing his blade down in a swift arc. The tiger snarled, more angry than hurt, and the battle truly began.

Each clash was a test of Marcus’s skill and endurance. The tiger’s powerful swipes and lunges were met with precise parries and counterattacks. The crowd roared with every close call, their bloodthirsty excitement a constant backdrop to the deadly struggle.

Geta leaned closer to Caracalla, his eyes gleaming with interest. “He’s slower than he used to be,” he commented, a hint of disappointment in his voice.

“But still formidable,” Caracalla replied, his gaze never leaving the arena. “Let’s see how long he can keep this up.”

Your eyes never left Marcus, every movement of his sword, every step he took etched into your mind. You saw the strain in his posture, the weariness beginning to show. But you also saw his determination, the fire that drove him to protect you and fight for your future.

The tiger lunged again, and Marcus sidestepped, thrusting his sword into the beast’s side. The tiger roared in pain, but it wasn’t enough to bring it down. Marcus circled, his breathing heavy, his eyes focused on the next move.

You bit your lip, your hands gripping the edge of your seat. “Come on, Marcus,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the crowd. “You can do this.”

The emperors’ eyes were fixed on the battle, their expressions a mix of amusement and anticipation. “He still has some fight in him,” Geta remarked, his tone almost admiring.

Caracalla smirked. “Let’s see if he can finish it.”

With a final, desperate lunge, Marcus brought his sword down with all his strength. The blade struck true, piercing the tiger’s heart. The beast collapsed with a final roar, its body twitching in its death throes.

The crowd erupted into cheers, their bloodlust satisfied. Marcus stood there, panting and covered in sweat, his eyes searching the crowd until they found yours. He nodded once, a silent promise that he would come back to you.

Geta clapped his hands, a smile of satisfaction on his face. “Well done, Marcus,” he said, his voice carrying over the noise of the crowd. “You have earned your reward.”

Marcus approached, his steps unsteady but his resolve unwavering. “We did it,” he said softly, his voice filled with relief and love. “We made it.”

As soon as he reached you, your emotions overwhelmed you, and tears began to fall. You couldn’t hold them back any longer. The fear, the violence, the constant threat—it all came pouring out. Marcus wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly as sobs wracked your body. “It’s over,” he murmured, his voice a soothing balm. “We’re safe now.”

You buried your face in his chest, feeling the warmth and strength of his embrace. For a moment, it was just the two of you, the world outside fading away. But the respite was short-lived. The emperors, ever impatient, approached with their questions.

“What residence do you desire, Marcus?” Geta asked, his tone dismissive of your pain. “You must choose.”

Marcus looked up, his eyes hardening with determination. “A residence close to the villa near Calacari,” he said firmly. “It’s secluded and secure.”

Caracalla nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Very well. It will be arranged. Now, go and clean yourself. The blood is rather unbecoming.”

Marcus turned back to you, his eyes filled with concern. “Let’s get out of here,” he said gently, guiding you towards the bathhouse.

The bathhouse was a haven of calm, the warm steam rising in gentle curls, a stark contrast to the brutal scene you had just left. Marcus began to strip off his bloodstained clothes, wincing with each movement. You stepped forward to help, your fingers trembling as you undid the clasps and buttons. As his shirt came off, you gasped at the sight of new scars marring his skin.

“Marcus…” you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. “You’re hurt.”

He shook his head, trying to reassure you. “I’m alright. It looks worse than it is.”

You gently traced the lines of the scars, your touch soft and tender. “I hate seeing you like this,” you said, tears welling up again. “I wish I could take your pain away.”

Marcus smiled, a hint of his usual playful self returning. “You already do, just by being here with me.”

You helped him into the warm water, your movements careful and precise. As he sank into the bath, he let out a sigh of relief. You joined him, sitting beside him and gently washing away the blood and grime. The tension in his body gradually eased, though the pain was still evident in his eyes.

Despite the sadness, you couldn’t help but try to lighten the mood. “You know,” you said with a small smile, “I think I’m starting to enjoy taking care of you like this.”

Marcus chuckled softly, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek. “I could get used to it,” he replied, his voice low and filled with warmth.

You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “Once we’re back in our own bed, I’ll take even better care of you,” you whispered, your tone both sweet and flirty.

His eyes darkened with desire, but as he tried to pull you closer, a sharp pain made him wince. “Maybe we should wait until I’m a bit more recovered,” he admitted, his voice strained.

You nodded, understanding and concern in your eyes. “Of course,” you said softly. “I just want you to be comfortable.”

Marcus smiled, his love for you shining through the pain. “We’ll have plenty of time for that,” he said, his hand gently caressing your arm. “Right now, let’s just be together.”

You sat in the bathhouse, the warm water soothing your tired bodies, the world outside momentarily forgotten. The future was uncertain, but as long as you had each other, you knew you could face anything. Marcus’s presence was your anchor, and together, you would find your way back to peace and happiness.

As you rested your head on his shoulder, you felt a sense of calm wash over you. The storm had passed, and now, it was time to heal and rebuild. With Marcus by your side, you knew that anything was possible.

After a long while of comfortable silence, you finally spoke, your voice soft but firm. “Marcus,” you began, pulling back slightly to look into his eyes. “You can never, ever go silent on me like that again. Do you understand? The fear of not knowing what you were thinking, what you were feeling—it’s unbearable. If you ever do, you’ll have something far worse than a lion to face.”

He looked at you, his eyes wide with surprise, then slowly nodded. “I promise,” he said quietly, his voice filled with sincerity. “I will never shut you out again.”

You leaned in, pressing your forehead against his. “Good,” you whispered. “Because we face everything together, remember?”

“Always,” he replied, his arms wrapping around you in a protective embrace.

The weekend from hell was over. Between Aurelia's pregnancy and the gladiators, you and Marcus were emotionally drained. But one question still lingered. "Why the emperor's residence near Calacari?" you asked as the carriage rolled along the uneven roads, taking you away from the horrors of the coliseum.

Marcus looked at you, his eyes softening with tenderness. "It’s not just for us," he began, his voice steady but filled with emotion. "It's for your mother."

You frowned, confusion knitting your brow. "My mother? Why would you care about where she lives?"

He took a deep breath, his hand finding yours and squeezing gently. "Remember when you told me about your father? How you feared he might leave your mother with nothing? I couldn’t bear the thought of her being alone, vulnerable. This villa isn't on the water but further inland, so it won’t worsen her fear of the sea. She can live there with or without him, and she can stay by us whenever she wants."

You blinked, absorbing his words. "You thought of all that?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Marcus nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "Yes. I want her to have a safe place, a sanctuary. Just like I want for us. Life under Rome's rule is too cruel, too unpredictable. We deserve a place where we can be happy, away from the chaos."

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you fought to keep them from spilling over. Instead, you leaned in and kissed him passionately, pouring all your gratitude and love into that one kiss. When you pulled back, you whispered, "Never ever go silent on me like that again, Marcus. You scared me. You’ll have something worse than a lion on your hands if you do."

He chuckled softly, a genuine smile breaking through his weary expression. "I promise," he said, his voice filled with sincerity. "I won't go silent on you again."

The carriage hit a bump, jolting you both, and you clung to Marcus, who winced in pain. "Are you alright?" you asked, your concern immediate.

He nodded, though his face betrayed the discomfort he felt. "I’m fine," he said, but his voice cracked, revealing the truth. "I miss the days when our biggest worry was a petty argument or growing pains. Now, I can't even have my wife on my lap without feeling like my body is falling apart."

Your heart ached for him, and you placed a gentle hand on his cheek. "We'll get through this, Marcus. Together. We’ll find peace and happiness, away from Rome’s cruelty."

Marcus sighed, leaning into your touch. "I hope so. I dream of a life where we can wake up to the sound of birds, not the roar of the crowd. A place where we can raise our children without fear."

You smiled, the vision of that future giving you strength. "We’ll make it happen. We’ll build that life, one day at a time."

Marcus smiled back at you, his eyes twinkling with a glimmer of hope. "I believe you, but how soon are we talking?" he asked, a playful tone creeping into his voice. "I don't think I can stand another day in Rome's chaos."

You chuckled, feeling a bit lighter. "Patience, my love. We’ll get there. But first, we need to survive the next few months."

Marcus groaned dramatically. "Months? You're killing me. I was hoping for days, maybe weeks."

You playfully swatted his arm. "Oh, stop it. You know it’ll take time to arrange everything."

He grinned, leaning in closer. "I guess I'll just have to endure your company in the meantime."

You rolled your eyes, though a smile tugged at your lips. "Endure, huh? Is that what we're calling it now?"

His expression softened, and he brushed a strand of hair away from your face. "I wouldn't trade a moment of it, not for anything," he said softly. "Even if it means dealing with your father’s wrath when we get back."

You sighed, the reality of your situation creeping back in. "He’s not going to take the news well, is he?"

Marcus shook his head. "No, probably not. But we’ll face it together. Just like we’ve faced everything else."

You nodded, drawing strength from his unwavering support. "Together," you echoed, the word a promise as much as a reassurance.

[flwrkid14]

Tim Drake, Son of Green Arrow: A Wild What-If Timeline

Okay, picture this: Tim Drake ends up being adopted by Oliver Queen. Wild, right? But hear me out.

It all starts with Janet Drake. Back in her boarding school days, she was close friends with Bruce Wayne and Oliver Queen. As adults, they drifted, but she always trusted them. So, when drawing up a will with Jack, she names Oliver as Tim’s guardian if anything ever happens to them. Why Oliver? He’s got a stable family life with Dinah, and Bruce is still just “Brucie” at this point, with no Dick Grayson or Robin yet in the picture.

Fast forward. Tim’s parents die in a tragic accident, leaving him alone… until Oliver Queen steps in. Tim gets whisked away to Star City, where he finds himself in a home that actually feels like a family. Oliver, Dinah, and Roy include him in their lives in a way his biological parents never did. They’re attentive, warm, and actually there.

Tim’s obsessive interest in Gotham and the Bat still exists, though. Even as he helps the Queens behind the scenes (because, of course, Tim figures out their identities), he keeps an eye on Gotham and Robin. When Jason Todd dies, Tim immediately notices the shift in Batman. He sees how broken Bruce becomes and, unable to ignore it, brings it up to Oliver.

Oliver listens. He pulls some Justice League strings, and they all step in to help Bruce. But even with the intervention, Tim can see Batman isn’t the same. Batman needs Robin.

Tim, being Tim, takes matters into his own hands. He sneaks back to Gotham, tracks down Bruce, and demands to be Robin. Bruce, skeptical but too tired to argue, lets him. Tim starts living a double life—splitting his time between Gotham as Robin and Star City with the Queens, who have no idea what he’s up to. Bruce assumes Tim’s guardian is some guy named Eddie (a lie Tim pulled out of thin air), and Tim’s balancing this precarious act of being a superhero under two noses.

Then comes the reveal.

After the Tower incident, when Jason comes back and beats Tim bloody, Tim limps home to Star City, where he can’t hide the injuries anymore. Oliver and Dinah are horrified. They demand answers, and Tim finally confesses everything. Dinah is livid, Oliver is fuming, and Roy is caught somewhere between “I’m proud of you” and “I want to wring your neck.” Oliver decides he’s going to have a chat with Bruce about endangering his son.

But Tim? He begs them to let him stay as Robin. He swears he’ll stop as soon as someone else steps in, but Gotham needs Robin. Reluctantly, the Queens agree, but now they’re involved. The next time Bruce and Tim are working a case, Oliver is in the Batcave, glaring daggers at Bruce while Dinah insists on debriefing Tim like he’s an adult.

And oh, the dynamics.

Tim is fiercely loyal to both his families. He adores the Queens—they’re the parents he always wanted—but the Bats become like a second family to him. Jason, after getting over the guilt and anger, starts treating Tim like a brother. Meanwhile, Roy and Jason develop this weird rivalry over who’s Tim’s actual favorite sibling.

Roy: “I taught Tim how to shoot a bow. Can you even use a bow?” Jason: “I’m sorry, does the term ‘second Robin’ mean nothing to you? He’s literally following in my footsteps.” Tim: “I like both of you equally!” Tim, internally: It’s definitely Roy.

Bruce? Bruce gets jealous. He watches Tim laugh freely with Oliver or cling to him at the Watchtower, and there’s this pang of something he doesn’t want to admit. Bruce cares about Tim, but Tim’s already got a dad in Oliver, and it shows.

But at the end of the day, both families fiercely love Tim. Whether he’s in Gotham or Star City, he’s surrounded by people who’d do anything for him. And Tim? Tim wouldn’t trade either family for the world.

[stayteezdreams]

Scenarios: Whump {Ateez x Gn!Reader}

Scenarios: Whump; how they would take care of you and react to you taking care of them.

Pairings: Kim Hongjoong x Reader; Jeong Yunho x Reader; Choi San x Reader & Song Mingi x Reader (All Gn!Readers)

Requested By Two Different Anons (during Milestone Event)

Warnings: Mentions of illness/sickness, injuries, general whump stuff.

A/N: Thank you to everyone for waiting patiently for me to get back into finishing the requests I got for the milestone event. <3 If anyone wants the other 4 members for this let me know!

Words: ~1.2k

Kim Hongjoong:

When Hongjoong is sick or hurt, he doesn't tell you how bad it is so you don't worry.

But you find out anyways (usually after interrogating Seonghwa)

Hongjoong likes to take care of you, and doesn't want you to worry too much over him.

But you don't listen to him.

When he hurt his knee during dance practice, though it wasn't serious, you still offered to help him.

You got him things around the dorm.

Reminded him to take his pain killers, massaged him, ran him a hot bath, etc.

Though he felt bad about you taking the time to help him, he really did adore the way you took care of him.

He always returns the favor in kind, when you get sick or hurt.

Though you tend to take care of him with gentle softness, he is a bit more forceful (in a loving way).

"Don't you dare try and get that yourself."

"If I come back and you aren't still in bed you wont get any food."

"Take your medicine or I am leaving."

It's never really mean, and always has a tinge of humor to it, and you know it's cause he hates that you are hurt/sick.

The worst thing he can imagine is you being hurt, so he tries his best to make you better faster, or to distract you so you aren't suffering.

He is also very very sweet when you are sick or hurt.

Cuddles just for you, gentle massages or fingers through your hair.

Bubble baths, kisses, etc. Anything he knows would made you feel better.

Jeong Yunho:

Yunho adores how you hover over him when he is sick or hurt.

He watches you with an adoring smile as you carefully read the directions and warnings of his medication and barely listens as you explain it to him.

He is so distracted by how cute he thinks you are that he forgets he is sick or hurt in the first place.

TOTALLY uses it against you.

"What do you mean you're leaving? " I just need to go get some things from the store." "What am I supposed to do then?" "I'll only be twenty minutes you'll be fine."

Hits you with the 🥺🥺🥺 and you can't help but give in.

Takes full advantage of having you around, cuddles that he refuses to end, hot baths he insists you have to share with him.

Everything you do for him when he is hurt/sick will be returned in kind.

You get a cold?

He buys every medicine he can find, twenty types of tea, cute stuffed animals, soups, etc..

He is checking your temperature, brining you cold rags to wipe your head. And the whole time he has a pout on his face.

Because he can't stand you being upset or sick.

Wishes he could trade places with you.

Doesn't care of he gets sick from cuddling with you.

"Then we will be sick together."

If you are hurt, ooohh booyyyy, pout x100.

Doesn't let you do anything.

You could hurt your wrist and he won't let you walk around.

"It could get worse!" "My wrist?" "Yes!"

You both hate when the other is suffering, but love the domesticity of taking care of one another.

Choi San:

Similar to Yunho, San loves how much you care for him when he is sick or injured.

Acts like a baby if you aren't giving him enough attention.

Steals kisses anytime you are close.

"You're gonna get me sick!""

"Then it will be my turn to take care of you."

If you are gone for too long he will text you with dramatic ass texts.

"I think I'm dying." "Why?" "My chest hurts." "WHAT?" "Because you aren't here." "Boy I swear to GOD."

Sweet smile the whole time you are taking care of him, even if he is miserable he feels like he is in heaven.

Changes your contact name to Cute Nurse. Does not change it back once he get's better.

When he finds out he did end up getting you sick, he actually feels really bad. But does as he says, and takes care of you this time.

Changes his name in your phone to Doctor Sexy, does not want you to change it back.

If either of you are hurt from an injury, taking care of each other becomes routine.

San will drag out his injury, pretending it's worse than it is just so you stay.

And as an excuse to get more shared baths out of you.

You of course see right through him.

However, if you are injured, he is so afraid to hurt you he barely comes near you.

"San, it's fine I promise." "But what if I hurt you?" "Then be gentle. I promise cuddling with me will not make my concussion worse."

Super delicate and caring with you when you are hurt.

Will fight the other's if they try to mess with you.

Makes you promise not to get hurt again.

Song Mingi:

Mingi says he doesn't want you wasting your time looking after him.

But you know he secretly loves you being around more often when he is sick/hurt.

You can tell by the soft smile on his face as he is watching you fuss after him.

Showers you with compliments because he adores you.

"You're so cute." "You'd make a great nurse/doctor." "But I don't want you taking care of anyone else." "Maybe I should by you a uniform"

Tries not to abuse the power he as over you when he is hurt/sick, but does use it as an excuse to make you stay with him.

"What if I wake up in the middle of the night and need help?" "Then I guess I'll have to stay." "I guess you will."

You are really good at consoling him when he is injured and misses out on some band activities.

You distract him with games, and keep him occupied. And he loves you so much for it.

Such a baby when it comes to you being hurt or sick.

Pouting constantly, wants to wrap you up and keep you safe from the world. Because how DARE you get hurt.

Many, many, gentle kisses to make you (and himself) feel better.

When you are sick he is not sure what to do or how to take care of you, but bless him he is trying his best.

"Here's your medicine." "Why is it so hot?" "I thought you were supposed to warm it up?" "Its cough medicine not tea."

But when you accidentally roll your ankle when on a jog, he knows exactly how to take care of you.

Is a bit over the top about it though.

And by that I mean he will carry you literally everywhere.

Need to go get water? He wont bring it to you, but he will carry you bridal style to the fridge so you can get it yourself.

He thinks it funny. You think it's ridiculous, but in a very cute way.

xx End xx

🌼 Taglist Form 🌼

Taglists:

General Taglist: @otsilliak, @brattybunfornct, @bahng-chrizz, @otakutrash669,

@tinyelfperson, @pinievsev, @teenyfinds, @everythingboutkpop,  @shymexican,

@stillwjk-channie-lixie, @luckypaintertyphoon <wont tag

Ateez Taglist: @soso59love-blog, @hongjoongsprincess, @tunaasan, @thedistractedwriter, @dear-dreamie,

@thunderous-wolf, @briqnne, @hyukssunflower, @dinossaurz, @skz1-4-3,

@staytiny2000, @demonlineslut, @vnessalau,  @dancinglikebutterflywings, @tunafishyfishylike

Mingi Taglist: @ye0nvibezzn

[bullet-and-brain]

more dan heng headcanons because i enjoy writing these:

-seasonal depression. “but not all of these planets even have seasons” LET ME LIVE!! (i’m projecting). i imagine that the cold would be unpleasant for him, considering he was likely kept on the coldest floor of the shackling prison. i dont think it’d be far-fetched to say that cold weather would also aggravate some of his old injuries (cold weather=chronic pain for this guy. def not projecting again. haha). so its overall just a miserable experience for him

BONUS if you let him be cold-blooded btw. on top of having no energy he has No Energy.

-sometimes march bugs dan heng to ‘set the mood’ for stuff by summoning clouds and having it start raining. like a movie scene for the main couple’s reunion when it starts pouring for dramatic effect

-i think he just generally ends up using his powers for a lot of mundane/niche things. maybe filling up a glass of water for someone or drying his own hair in an instant

-this has been a hc of mine for a while uhh you know how a good indicator of some marine species’ health is their color? like, a sick fish will typically not have those same vivid oranges/blues/pinks etc., their coloration is duller than usual. i’ve always felt like this could apply to the vidyadhara as well- maybe if dan heng is particularly stressed or unwell, his eyes don’t shine so brilliantly, they’re closer to the shade of his eyes in his human form, or his antlers/scales are a grayish-blue-green instead of his signature turquoise. i think this has a lot of fic potential (looks at the draft i’ve been sitting on for over a year)

-this guy cannot keep his human appearance up forever. he usually gets a strong urge to just drop the disguise when he’s surrounded by a lot of water, and if he’s showering/bathing it’s nigh impossible to resist. he’ll sometimes just transform because it’s easier and he’s Tired, but he also HATES having to wash his hair when it’s that long, so it’s kind of a trade off

-he’s not immune to forgetting that he isn’t actually human now that he has the burden of hiding his secret identity off of his shoulders. he’s more comfortable in both forms (and he pointedly refers to his vidyadhara form as his original appearance, not his true one- he sees both as ‘himself’, neither one is more or less genuine)

-he sometimes sheds his scales and the first time it happens he kind of freaks out because he has no idea what the hell to do. bailu to the rescue

also if any of you guys ever want to yap about headcanons or theories or anything in my dms or asks feel free 🙏i love to talk about him he’s so stupid

[sweetdispatch]

Nothing - J. Drysdale

Songs masterlist

song: Nothing - Zara Larsson

pairing: Jamie Drysdale x girlfriend!reader

summary: Jamie and his girlfriend are having problems with communication after his trade to Philadelphia

warning: none i think??

words: 1.5k

note: i thought i needed a longer hiatus after heartbreak i survived but i missed writing so we're back in business haha

also, i changed songs so yeah, enjoy it and let me know what you think!

---

She and Jamie had been dating since august 2023. She was in her last year in UCLA and he was playing for Anaheim Ducks. He was well spoken and caring, she found him cute. Jamie never thought they could be a couple. In his mind, she was way out of his league. They’ve been hanging out a lot during his free time. She tried to attempt his every home game. 

Jamie was shy. He didn’t want to ruin their friendship so he kept his feelings to himself. She was tired of waiting for him to make a move, and decided to take it into her hands. After one movie night they had, she kissed him. He froze in place but after a couple of seconds, kissed her back. This moment ended their friendship but started a relationship. 

When Jamie was traded to Philadelphia, she wanted to transfer to university in Pennsylvania but he stopped her. He knew it’s pointless. It was her final year and he believed that they could work long distance for half of a year. They made a deal that she will move to him during the summer and search for a job down there. It was easier to say than to do. 

Tell me you’re fine, yeah give me a smile

But I know that something is going on

January went without any problems. Jamie called her at every occasion. Plenty of times, she was leaving her lectures just to answer his phone call. They spent hours each day texting. Although, she knew something was wrong with him. During their late night facetime calls, she could see that his face is not as cheerful as always. He was smiling but she had the intuition that it’s fake smile.

When she tried to ask him about it, Jamie was saying that everything is fine. He was covering his yearning by saying that he’s just tired. She wanted to believe in his words but she felt that something was happening in his life. The one thing that she hated in him was acting like everything was fine when he was in pain. 

She decided to play along with his game. She trusted him and didn’t want to argue over this. It hurted her that Jamie is not speaking with her about his feelings but she also knew that’s normal for him. When he will be ready to talk, he will. At least she believed in that.

And that’s how it starts

Yeah, I know you well

When Jamie picked an injury in february, he started to isolate himself from her. He missed her like crazy but he knew she had more important things than taking care of him and his feelings. She was always telling him that his problems are also her problems but he felt too embarrassed to share his thoughts with her. 

She knew something really bad was happening with their relationship. She learned about his injury from his mother. Jamie hasn't even said this to her by himself. When she confronted him, he just made an excuse. She tried so hard to push him to talk to her but he was telling her it’s nothing and she’s searching for a problem when everything’s fine. 

When you say it’s nothing 

It’s never nothing

Jamie for the whole month of february was trying to convince her that nothing is happening. At the same time, he was pushing her away. He didn’t want a pity party. He was a grown man and he knew he could handle long distance and injury by himself. Although, it was a lie. He needed her.

Jamie believed he’s doing the right thing. He knew that the minute he told her that he’s not fine, she’s going to drop everything to be with him in Philadelphia. He didn’t want her to sacrifice her graduation because he missed her. That was the last thing he wanted to do. 

When Jamie was acting this way, she started to question their relationship. She felt that she’s the problem and that’s why he doesn’t want to speak with her about how he’s doing. She missed his calls and memes he was sending to her. She was certain that she spent more time on talking with his mother than with him. Jamie’s mom became a line of communication in between them. 

Try to be patient, giving you space, but

Seems like your mind’s halfway out the door

When march started, she changed her tactic. She decided to give him space. Last month, she was the one trying to keep their relationship going but without him, she couldn't do much. She stopped calling him and texting him. It was tough for her to just act like Jamie is not part of her life but she believed it was the right call.

Jamie thought differently. He felt that she’s done with him and stopped contacting him because she wants to break up. He didn’t react. He felt like it’s for the best. He always knew that she deserved better than him. He was just a shy guy playing hockey when she was an outspoken girl with a bright future in her industry. 

His mind was going in the direction of breaking up. Jamie didn’t want to end things. He loved her deeply but he also didn’t want her to drop her whole life in California. That’s where she was born, where she grew up and that’s where her future is. He didn’t want to ruin her dreams because he was traded and missed her. He felt guilty for not being honest with her, he wanted to tell her everything but his own mind was stopping him from that. 

I wish you could tell me

What you’re thinking

What you’re going through now

Jamie came back on the ice in April. Still haven’t contacted her and he didn't know that she’s in touch with his mother and knows everything. They haven’t ended things in between each other. She believed they could rescue this relationship. His mother advised her to confront him. Push him to the wall so he would speak.

She followed this advice. When she knew Jamie had free time, she called him. To her surprise, he picked up after the first ring. Before he could even say hello, she started to ask him questions. He was taken aback by her outburst. He tried to make excuses just to not admit her the truth.

She started crying when Jamie wasn’t honest with her. She told him how she felt in the past months. How she was mourning over their relationship, how she had to ask his mother for any updates in his life and how she couldn’t focus on anything else than thinking about what went wrong with them. She asked him if she’s the problem but he hasn’t answered. 

Jamie froze when he heard how she was feeling. He realized that he hurted her more by closing up on her than telling her truth. He felt bad, really bad and didn’t even know what to say to her. After a minute of silence, she hung up. She wanted to give up on them but couldn’t. 

If you still care, want me there

Please, say something

She knew from his mother that Jamie is staying in Philadelphia for the whole summer. After graduation, she decided to pay him a visit to talk and sort things out in between them. When she landed, she started to question this decision but it was now or never. Before she knocked on his door, she stood in front of them for a couple minutes. 

Jamie opened the door, surprised to see her. When he saw her, he almost cried. She had dark circles under her eyes and was skinnier than he remembered her. He felt that it’s all his fault. He immediately pulled her to a hug. She wanted to push him away but couldn’t. The smell of cologne was something that calmed her. 

Jamie invited her into the apartment and gave her a bottle of water. She took a sip and started talking to him. She explained to him how her situation looks from her perspective. He took a deep breath when she was done. Now it was his turn to talk but he felt embarrassed. He knew this situation was his fault.

When Jamie hadn't spoken, she said that he could at least have the bravery to break up with her instead of putting her through this hell. This was a final straw. He knew he had to react. As much as he wanted her to fulfill in California where her whole life is, he wanted to have her by his side. Finally told her what he had been dealing with for the last six months. 

After she heard his monologue, she cried. Jamie instantly pulled her into a hug and he also broke down. Past half of a year was a challenge for them but their love was stronger than this. She dropped her life in California and moved to Philadelphia. Jamie promised her to be more open about his feelings. It was a long process but they promised to make things work this time. It was a fresh start for them.

[sh1-n0bu]

Omg hello fellow lumine main!

I don't know if you watched the recent Xiao teaser but i got inspired by it so if it's okay with you can you write an angsty scenario about this:

After fighting with the "evil" Xiao, Xiao feels extremely tired and after walking for a while he bumps into you in a deserted field he then confuses/ hallucinates as if you are his evil self so he starts choking you(?) tries to attack you(?) And no matter what you say your words doesn't reach his ears and he snaps out of it only when Zhongli calls his name when he happened to be passing by

Hope this is not too specific! Feel free to change any part that you don't like and it could end with whatever genre you want whether it's angst or angst with fluff!! Thank you and please ignore this if you don't feel like writing it<33

✿ 𝙠𝙖𝙧𝙢𝙖 ✿

characters: xiao x nb!reader

warnings: angst, slight spoilers to xiao’s backstory, hurt/no comfort, fighting, descriptions of blood and canon violence, confession, big ouchies, major character death

notes: just wanna add that the reader doesn’t have a vision! since you didn’t specify the reader’s gender, i went with the “you” pronouns thing. also hiii❗️fellow lumine main❗️(ps: i wanted it to be different but my mitski’s playlist hurt me)

karmic debt is something that all yakshas bear in their lifetime until their timely demise. it is a collection of their evil deeds, of slaying demons, of taking the life of a corrupted being. of tainting one’s hand with blood whether that blood was already tainted or not.

out of five yakshas that guarded liyue and kept the land of any evil, three had died. minds corrupted by their own karmic debts, hearts shattered by the ones they once used to call a family, bodies torn apart, leaving behind only ashes with nothing to bury and reminisce about in the future. while one had disappeared without a trace.

out of five, only one remains.

and that one would sooner or later fall into his own karmic debt as well. it was only a matter of time. however, there was a small glimmer of hope in the yaksha’s tainted heart. a small glimmer in the shape of you.

sweet, loving you in all your glory who first met the legend of a being when he protected you from a mitachurl. kind, gentle you who thanked him later at the wangshu inn with a plate of hand-made almond tofu with a small offering at the side. thoughtful you who kept appearing every once in a while at the balcony, talking out loud to him about your day, your latest travels and business trades, knowing full well he was listening.

passionate you who gleefully accepted him with open arms when he first decided to sit beside you to hear about your day. understanding you who kept your distance when he warned you of his karmic debt, respectful of his wishes.

and the idiotic clumsy you who would sometimes trip over on the way up the stairs. who would smile at him with the same smile, calling out his name with a scratched hand or forehead. who would brush it off as something small and mediocre.

but the yaksha hated that you would always say your injuries are mediocre and “nothing to worry about”.

of course he would worry. you were one of the few people in his life that he held dear in his heart. one of the few who accepted him, karmic debt, dirty hands, tainted heart and all. the only one… he ended up falling in love with.

“if one day, this karmic debt that binds my soul becomes too much and i no longer can tell the difference between friend or a foe, call upon mister zhongli or the traveler. they’ll get rid of me before i can harm anyone” was something that the lonely yaksha would remind you often.

“it’s fine. that won’t ever happen” you would console him, hands weaving a flower crown together from the qingxin flowers he picked up for you.

“because i’ll be there to knock some sense into you” was your sweet promise as you would place the flower crown atop his head with a smile.

he always found it meaningless that you would weave the flowers into something as useless as a flower crown. but he couldn’t bring himself to ever take it off or throw it away, even after the flowers have dried up and he would pick up the fallen petals, storing them in a glass. he loved how even in death, without nourishments, the petals would continue to keep their beauty.

perhaps that’s why he always brought you flower bouquets back. ones made from random flowers. sweet flowers, glaze lilies, qingxin, silk flowers — he always brings back a flower for you whenever you visit. and on certain days when he feels an odd emotion gripping his heart, unable to tear his gaze away from you as you look at the setting sun, his gloved hand would slowly reach out, tucking one of the flowers behind your ear.

“pretty…” the lonely immortal would whisper without notice. only when you glance at him with a smile, would the yaksha realize what he had done, turn beet red and teleport away. too shy to confront his feelings, too conflicted to stay beside you, too afraid of your mortality.

there are so many times when xiao fears for your mortality.

the times when he feels his karma gripping his heart. hand clutching his jade spear tight to the point he fears he would break the weapon. blurry figures in his sight, muffled voices in his ears, an annoying high pitched ringing in his head.

it was just supposed to be another night. another night of keeping liyue safe. another night of banishing demons and abyss mages, mitachurls, what nots.

and yet it drained him so greatly. when was the last time he had ever felt this exhausted? down right almost collapsing right then and there in the fields of liyue? muscles straining, dragging his feet, vision blurry — the yaksha was exhausted.

amidst the chaos of the voices screeching in his head, demanding more blood, more death and sacrifices, xiao finds himself staring back at a familiar mask. his own mask. himself. or what kind of a twisted joke of himself it was.

their speed was evenly matched. spear swings and thrusts sharp, aimed at his weakest parts, the same feeling of adrenaline pumping as he fights against his own self. with some sort of blind luck or fate, the yaksha manages to make his other self kneel. a single plummet of his jade spear to the heart was all it took for the illusion to disappear.

this was a tiring night. xiao just wanted to go back to wangshu inn and collapse in your arms. you always had a soothing presence that quelled the karma in him.

“xiao?” a voice sounds from behind him. turning back to look at the person who spoke the immortal’s name, he finds himself growing enraged. another look alike of himself.

this was getting tiring.

and yet when the yaksha slipped on his mask and attacked, something was weird. this illusion was slower, weaker, never attacking back and he would almost daresay, felt wrong to fight against.

it didn’t took long for the seasoned fighter to leave a nasty cut on the illusion’s side, almost plunging his spear through their ribcage. he’d just have to try a bit harder then.

xiao wanted nothing more than to go back to you. to feel your arms around him. to feel your hands run through his hair, rambling on about your day or just simply choosing to stay quiet. either way, the lonely immortal loved it. he wanted to go back to you. to your loving embrace. sweet smiles. little nods when he whispered about somethings he wanted.

xiao just wanted to be with you.

just your presence alone was enough for him. he would savor the warmth your skin excludes as he sits beside you on the balcony. cherish every little moment you would spend with him. treasure the small gifts and the almond tofu you would make for him.

and yet why was it that such a familiar hand was touching his own gloved one when he finally drove his jade spear through the illusion’s chest.

it was only then the illuminated bird noticed.

there was no second ‘illusion’. there was no need to fight against the voice that called out to him. for it was you. for it was the one person he cherished the most. for it was his beloved that was now bleeding out, blood tainting the tips of his spear, warm hand covering his own gloved one. warmth that was so quickly fading away.

his beloved… that he killed.

taking his spear out, xiao moved quickly to catch your falling body. the warmth that your hug gives him, the comfort he feels now being replaced by the warmth of your blood.

“no. no no no no, h-hang on. i’ll get you to liyue harbor” what was he saying? it was no use. he had already pierced your heart straight through, there was no hope for you. but xiao wanted there to be one. xiao wanted you to stay alive so he can confess to you. xiao wanted you to live, wanted to taste your hand made almond tofu again, wanted to put flowers in your hair.

xiao wanted to spend his tomorrows with you.

“don’t. we both know i won’t make it” your voice calls out. weak, hoarse, tired. you were bleeding. eyes dull, losing life, losing it’s shine. you were dying and it was all his fault.

“please… please don’t go” the yaksha didn’t knew he was crying until his tears landed on your face. even when bleeding out, even when dying, you still smiled. and by the archons, you were still beautiful even as you lay dying in his arms.

“please don’t go. i love you too much to let you go…” the yaksha sniffled, sobs coming out as he holds you in his arms.

it was just like how you two would lay on the rooftops of wangshu inn. watching the stars, the cloud move by, pointing out the shapes as you two enjoy each other’s presence.

except the warmth that came from your body was now the warmth of your blood gushing out, staining his clothes. the smile you used to give him now dead, stoic, almost like a puppet’s forced smile. the bright shine of life that was once in your perfect [color], dull like a matted blood.

“i wanted to spend my tomorrows with you…”

[coralinnii]

❋ If you are a villain, then let me be your accomplice ❋

feat: Lilia genre: mild hurt/comfort, slow burn romance note: sequel to reincarnated into a new world as the bad guy AU Lilia ver, no pronouns used, Lilia is depicted as his older appearance with long hair, human!reader, mentions of minor injuries unintentionally inflicted on reader, 1.6k word count 

I liivvveee! For now, anyway. I still have my job projects and finals are upon me but I finally found some time to myself so I hope you enjoy another addition to the Villain/ess!series. I might end up failing a class but I know it’s not the end of the world for me and I really enjoyed the class so I wouldn’t mind retaking the class.

Yeaa...this did not end up as domestic fluff

WARNING: This part has kinda hard-to-read topics regarding children and childrearing. Sometimes parents, guardians, caretakers and/or other children accidentally get injured by a child and the child doesn’t know how to get over that. We never want to blame the child for these mistakes but we want to make sure they can learn to avoid such mistakes again. This is an odd case since these are fictional non-human characters and some people can view Lilia as too harsh or see MC/reader as too lenient. I’ve seen parents approach this concern differently and honestly to me, the next course of action is never easy to figure out without truly discussing with the child and those involved.  I'm not saying whose method is right or wrong, I just wrote what would be the best course of action in this scenario. You might have your own opinions or approaches. Read at your own risk

A lot has happened since your first visit to the Vanrouge household. Lilia surprised you by taking both of you into his home, protecting you while helping to raise the young Yung. He offered a room to the small dragon and one for yourself (though Yung still prefers to sleep in your bed with you). 

Speaking of Yung, he was still wary of Lilia and his servants, choosing to hide himself in your embrace or behind your legs. He refused to speak to anyone and if he needed something, he would whisper into your ears and being the pampering type, you would oblige. 

“Dear me, he seems to have really imprinted himself on you” Lilia chuckled casually but then he quickly hardened his gaze and the conversation turned more serious. “However, if he does not grow out from this phase, he may end up unable to control his dragon side and hurt himself or you” 

This worries you as you know due your knowledge from your previous life that Yung will grow to be very powerful but he fell victim to his own strength and destroyed himself with his power. 

Distressed, you begged Lilia to give his guidance as the former guardian of the Dragon King and with a playful smile, he gave an offer to you. 

“Very well, I will be his guide. But as a fair trade of service, why don’t you become my attendant? This would occupy your time and perhaps young Yung could use this to be a little more independent?” 

And thus began Yung’s days of torture as your new job constantly took precious time from him by Lilia. Yung can no longer ask for walks with you because you’re needed to look over some paperwork with the duke. Nights where you would lull him to sleep were getting less and less as Lilia requested your assistance in looking over some schedule details before the new day. And even when Yung gets to hang out with you, Lilia would almost always be there to monopolize your attention. 

At first, you decided to trust the young(?) duke and his tactics since you did come to him for his guidance anyway. Despite the rather playful demeanor he seems to have, Lilia seemed so confident to you and assured you time and time again that this is a rite of passage of sorts for fae like him and Yung since powerful beings like them must learn self-control before anything else. 

But self-control continues to elude Yung and it wasn’t long before the cute little dragon decided enough was enough.

“Wuv is mine! Mister duke go away!” 

To the best of his ability, Yung wrapped his short arms around your waist as he screamed at the duke. If Yung was any normal child, his growth would have been unprecedented as he was already walking (to chase after you and Lilia) and speaking fairly comprehensible sentences (to yell at Lilia). But as a fae, this was a typical growth spurt, quickly growing stronger and bigger than a typical human to ensure his survival. His physical strength was more obvious to you right now as the young child was unintentionally tightening his grip on you which started to hurt. 

��Yung, l-love” you tried to speak but it came out as a short gasp as the small fae ignored your call. His hands, while small, kept digging through your clothes and into your skin which made you wince slightly. You tried other means of grabbing the young one’s attention but all was moot as all of Yung’s focus zeroed in on Lilia alone, his eyes glowing a slightly menacing color and a glare reminiscent of a dragon ready to defend his territory.

“Sigh…you are still a foolish child” 

In an instant, the pain in your sides lessened as you found yourself in the arms of the duke instead of Yung’s hold. Both you and Yung were shocked by this sudden change of the situation. How did neither of you notice Lilia as he somehow managed to rip you out from the young dragon’s grip without his notice or harming you in the process? 

“Are these the skills of an experienced fae?” 

After looking over you for any major injuries, Lilia sighed again with slight disappointment, reminiscent of a father figure upset with a child that nearly broke something precious. “How can you protect your treasure when you can’t even protect them from yourself?” 

Following Lilia’s previous line of sight, Yung’s heart sank when he saw the torn fabric of your outfit. With his extraordinary senses, he caught glimpses of red lines across your skin through the ripped clothing. He instinctively reached out his small hand to you but saw his nails were longer and sharper, like talons of a dragon. 

He hurt you. He hurt you. He hurt you. 

Yung broke into tears as those words cycled in his head, haunting him for his crime. You were instinctively pushing yourself from Lilia by the sound of his cries, running to enclose your arms around the poor fae child, holding him while softly giving words of comfort. 

“Love, I’m alright. It was an accident, I know that” 

 But Yung continued to sob and he apologized profusely, his voice getting sore from his cries. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

Lilia stood still behind you, watching silently as you continued to console your child, wiping Yung’s tears and holding his small, shaking hands. 

Night came and Lilia visited you in your room once the family doctor was done tending to your scratches. The head of the manor immediately called for the doctor but you refused to show your injuries while Yung was still panicking over the incident. It was only when Yung calmed down and stayed with him until he fell asleep in his room. You kept your smile as you downplayed your wounds, not letting Yung blame himself.

When Lilia entered your room with your permission, he shocked you as he said something unexpected. 

“I’m sorry.” He even bowed his head to you, showing the sincerity of his words.

You replied with confusion in your voice. “Pardon? What for?” 

“I expected that Yung was getting possessive of you but I didn’t think that you would get this hurt in my attempt to distance you two. I should have intervened sooner” 

Lilia held this guilt throughout the day, ashamed that he roped you into his little test for the dragon fae. He knew raising a powerful fae will be a rough journey, taking his experience from caring for Malleus. But if Lilia were the one to get hurt, it would be but a scratch that would heal in an instant. Whatever Yung would do, Lilia can handle it with ease. 

But you weren’t fae. You were a human that bleed at the lightest touch from his kind, that break much too easily, and perish much too soon. 

“You should leave this manor” Lilia stated with an uncharacteristically serious tone. “I will find a comfortable inn for you to stay in and provide other essentials until you can find another living situation to your liking” 

“Wait a minute!” You jumped from your seat, your mind thrown for a loop. “I can’t just leave, what will happen to Yung? It'll break his heart! I didn’t mean to inconvenience your grace and your plans but I’ll be care-“ 

“Do you not understand the dangers of your situation?” Lilia’s tone was ice cold. “You nearly bled from what Yung thought was a childish hug. What if he were to get angry one day and suddenly knock you unconscious? He is not a mere human child but a fae, and a strong one as well. You are a human that may die by his own hands” 

Silence filled your room as the weight of Lilia's words sink in.

You won’t lie, Yung’s nails were painful and your wounds still sting even after treatment. In the story from your past memories, Yung’s power will be on par with the current Dragon King, with the power to move mountains and call upon flames that would leave nothing in its path. Yung will continue to grow stronger and nothing you, a powerless human, can do that will be able to stop him. 

But still… 

“I stayed silent because I didn't know what would be good for Yung. But damn it, I love that child! As long as he needs me, I’ll be there for him” you locked eyes with the long-haired fae with determination. “He’ll become stronger, but he wouldn't hurt others. He is a happy, kind child"

"And how will you ensure that?"

"I will be there to make sure he stays that way” you made a bold choice, but you're confident in this. You were confident in your little Yung that he will go against his ending in that story nonsense of your previous world.

Crossing your arms, you made another bold comment.

“Besides…you still agreed to guide him. So, this will be a team effort” You were testing your luck but you assumed that should anything like today happen again, then you could always hide behind the great general Vanrouge. That's a team, right? Being able to depend on them during tough patches?

But Lilia stayed quiet and chose to simply match your stare with his. It was intimidating to have such an attractive man look at you with such intensity but you held your ground. You puffed out your chest and refused to look away from Lilia’s admittedly beautiful ruby-coloured eyes. 

Then…Lilia giggled. 

“Lilia, the renowned general…giggled….and it was so cute?!” 

You were taken aback when you saw a soft smile crept onto Lilia’s lips, so different from his mischievous grin whenever he scares you from behind during work or the confident smirk when he wins a round of a card game that you introduced to him from your original world. You were upset, offended even that he would giggle at your proud proclamation to care for Yung. But wow, he was really attractive doing so.

Not noticing your conflicted expression (or choosing to ignore it), Lilia placed a hand on your head, closer to your forehead, then moved slowly to caress your head. His touch was so gentle, careful not to scratch you or add unnecessary pressure. 

“He’s good at holding back his strength” you thought, only having heard the stories of the unbeatable general. Lilia is a playful man but his power is impressive even among other fae so this gentle side of him was a pleasant surprise to you.

“Goodness gracious, I wonder if this is where Yung gets his audaciousness from?” Lilia had a shine in his eyes as he kept his gaze on you, almost as though he was captivated by what he saw. “I look forward to your cooperation then, teammate”

[therhythmafterthesummer]

Are You There, Wolf? (M) ~Lee Know

Pairing: Werewolf!Minho x Human!F.Reader Themes: Supernatural/Fantasy AU | Smut | Fluff | Best Friends to Lovers Word Count: ~8k | AO3 Synopsis: Minho had always deemed himself a bit of a weirdo. In his humble opinion, he’d only become even weirder with time, especially after he acquired his supernatural… condition. He’d never cared much about it, not when you’d always been there for him, and hopefully you would always be. [This is an instalment of my WereRoomies series. You don’t particularly need to read the other instalments related to Minho to understand this, but it’ll add more depth to the story if you do, so I highly recommend it~]. Warnings: Minho’s POV · mentions of shooting guns [it’s an off-handed comment made by Minho, nothing serious, but figured i’d put a warning] · mentions of gambling · mentions of cheating [but no one cheated] · mentions of blood, injuries, and violence · near death experiences · Minho was dumb and in denial for a long while · mentions and depictions of monster fucking shenanigans · graphic depictions of intercourse (smut warnings under the cut).

Author’s Note: this originally started as a smutty drabble inspired by an ask from an anon… somehow it grew hands and beat me up and made me black out and now we’ve got a full instalment. a chunk of it is just stuff that happened in other instalments, but with Minho’s input. hope you enjoy ! special thanks to @notastraykid for reading this and letting me know it wasn’t the worst piece of literature she’s ever read.

Due to all the abovementioned warnings, this story is intended for an adult audience only. Minors please do not interact.

Minho's previous WereRoomies instalments: Camping With Wolves & Dog Unleashed

Smut Warnings: mentions of oral · somnophilia [all acts related to it are consensual] · unprotected penetration [piv. no barrier method, but reader is presumed to be on birth control] · creampie

Disclaimer: the story represented in this work does not represent Stray Kids in any way; anything described in this story and all actions performed by the characters are purely fictional, this was created just for good fun.

Minho always believed himself to be a rational man. He was also an animal, yes. But his animal instincts were, essentially, stunted. 

He wasn’t sure if it was because he was born human and turned into a werewolf when he was very young, or if there was something wrong with him in general–he honestly wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case.

Jisung–who’d been the first other werewolf Minho ever befriended–believed it to be the first option. He had encouraged Minho to go to a specialist and ask, but Minho never really paid much attention to it.

He figured that, as long as he didn’t feel ill or that he didn’t hurt anyone around him, it didn’t really matter.

However, just how many psychologists and therapists by trade seemed to choose that career path in order to understand their own brains and behaviours, sometimes he wondered if his own inability to understand his animal needs was what fully drove him into becoming a vet.

Sure, he had always cared for animal’s safety, he always knew one too many facts about many different critters, and with all the injured animals that seemed to come his way when he was a kid, he had spent more time at the vet’s office than he did in his own home. He supposed all things combined played a role in his career choice, and that had certainly helped him understand himself a little better… kind of.

Minho was a simple man. A man that, in a sick twist of fate, ended up becoming the dictionary definition of a monster.

He’d admit that for a long time, he blamed himself for what had happened to him. ‘Maybe if I hadn’t taken that detour through the woods that time I wouldn’t have been turned’, ‘Maybe if I had been paying attention to my surroundings I wouldn’t have been bit’, ‘Maybe I did something horrible in a past life or this one to warrant such an event’, he’d always think about these things whenever the pains and aches caused by his condition were a bit too strong to bear.

It took him an even longer time to accept the fact that it hadn’t been his fault at all. Nothing could’ve ever prepared him for the situation. He would’ve never been able to predict that a giant wolf would come out of nowhere and bite him completely unprompted. 

To this day, over ten years later, Minho still couldn’t remember what the wolf looked like.

It all happened so fast… All he could remember was the fuzzy canine shape, the sound of growls and snarls and of his own bones cracking inside his body, along with the searing pain that spread from the gash that the creature had left on his side.

He couldn’t remember the bleeding, or the amount of time he spent laying on the forest ground, or even the moment he was eventually found. One second he was in an immense amount of pain, and the next he was completely fine, as if nothing had happened, laying on a hospital bed with his best friend hugging him and sobbing against his chest.

Minho could’ve never imagined that that event in the woods would change the way he interacted with the world forever.

One seemingly normal evening after what he thought had been ‘an accident’, while he was hanging out in his best friend’s home, doing their weekly watch of Kamen Rider, it was like something suddenly started rattling inside of him. Like an itch one can’t seem to scratch satisfactorily.

He couldn’t breathe, his joints hurt, all his muscles seemed to burn, and before he knew it, he was feeling parts of his body he had never felt before. His vision felt different, his sense of smell was overwhelmed, and although his surroundings were familiar, it was almost like he was seeing them from someone else’s perspective.

Needless to say, he was having a full on meltdown right then and there. Especially when he caught what he thought would be a glimpse of himself on a reflective surface, and what he saw instead was a dog… Well, more accurately, a wolf.

To this day, he was very grateful that it all happened while you, his best friend, were there with him. Minho honestly wasn’t sure how he would’ve reacted had he been on his own. He could still remember the panic he felt, how much he was crying, how much you were crying. Things would’ve probably been very different if you hadn’t hugged him tight and reassured him time and time again that you’d be there for him… That you wanted to figure this out together.

When he had finally understood what had happened to him in the woods, and after many trips to the local library to do some digging on the internet, you both came to the conclusion that the most logical explanation to his newfound condition was that he was now afflicted with lycanthropy… And it wasn’t the psychological kind.

Which was crazy. 

Completely absurd.

But what seemed to be sourced in fantasy and myths was literally the only thing that matched his symptoms perfectly.

Everything was confusing for a long time after that. Everything was too loud, too bright, too intense… His already sensitive senses seemed to be overstimulated all day, every day–even worse than before–and he could hardly cope.

He could hear conversations that were happening metres away from him, he could hear people’s breathing and their heartbeats and sometimes other internal organs as well… It was honestly driving him a little bit insane.

Minho realised very quickly that having a supernaturally enhanced sense of smell when he was starting high school was quite possibly one of the worst things to ever happen to him. Having been turned into a werewolf was hard enough on its own, now he had to deal with teenagers that seemed to hold a grudge against soap.

When it all got too overwhelming, he simply got close to you. As close as he could. He was sure he had memorised the rhythm of your heartbeat at this point, and the constant, familiar sound always seemed to help ease his sour mood.

‘Have you gotten a new perfume? Or a new fabric softener?’ He couldn’t help but ask one day. He’d noticed recently that there seemed to be a scent of lavender lingering around him whenever you were close. He didn’t mind. In fact, it actually comforted him quite a bit.

‘You know I don’t use fabric softener, dummy. And no, I haven’t gotten a new perfume’, your answer puzzled him a bit, but it wasn’t until a handful of months later, when he finally met Jisung, that he understood what that lavender scent was.

When Minho first met Jisung, he was honestly a bit surprised. Mostly because the second Jisung was within his radius, it was almost like he could tell the younger boy was a werewolf, too. There was something about the smell of roses and cotton radiating from Jisung that just gave it away, although Minho didn’t know how, or why.

Jisung quickly became an integral part of his friend group–although, to be fair,  ‘group’ was a big word to use, considering you were the only real friend Minho had, and the one he consistently hung out with. What used to be a simple pair of weirdos became a trio of weirdos, and Minho was genuinely happy about that.

He immediately felt like he could trust Jisung, and in the long run, Minho was grateful for his presence. Not only because Jisung was funny and eloquent and he also enjoyed watching niche TV shows, but also because Jisung helped him understand this unexplored side of him.

‘You’re an alpha, clearly’, Jisung told Minho once. As if that meant something important. ‘Your scent is kind of… Like, you smell of vanilla and a recently lit bonfire. Somehow very alpha-like, but milder than what I’m used to, I suppose…’

Jisung explained to him all these werewolf designations of alphas, betas, and omegas that were based on a werewolf’s inherent nature… He explained what scents were, how to tell what status a wolf had based on their scent, and when he confirmed that humans did, in fact, also have a scent, Minho just knew then that that lavender scent he always smelt when you were close was simply your natural scent. Just like cotton and roses was Jisung’s.

Meeting Jisung–aside from meeting you–was possibly one of the best things that could’ve ever happened to Minho. Not only did Jisung become one of his best friends in this whole wide world, not only did he help Minho understand his newfound nature, but also, thanks to him, Minho was finally able to find a family of his own.

Being honest, in his hometown, Minho didn’t have anyone but you. His mother barely even gave him the time of day–mostly because she was busy working two or three jobs to support them both.

When his now step-dad came into the picture, money was no longer a problem, but by that point Minho had already been turned, and that, coupled with the fact that his step-dad wasn’t really that good of a man, was enough for him to distance himself from his relatives.

Minho also had Jisung for a while, but he eventually left town because his entire pack was moving out. That was fine, he was sure they would meet again eventually. Besides, technology around that time made it so it was hardly possible to not be in contact with someone.

After high school, when Minho finally decided to pursue higher education–to pursue his dream of becoming a vet–the university he wanted to study in was, coincidentally, in the same area where Jisung was living then. And not only was Jisung living there, he was in a pack. A different one from his childhood one.

Back in the early stages of his friendship with Jisung, he had explained to Minho that werewolves usually lived in packs, just like regular wolves did. Jisung’s childhood pack didn’t treat omegas that well, from what Minho could recall. So, being an omega himself, Jisung always felt like a bit of an outcast. The fact that he had found a pack where he was actually comfortable was a big deal, and Minho was genuinely happy for his friend.

Even though the pack was essentially only three young wolves, Jisung always spoke highly of his two other packmates. ‘Chris and Changbin are amazing people, dude. Never met wolves like them aside from, like… you. I think you’d be a great addition to our pack, and Chris agrees! Come meet them, you won’t regret it’.

And he didn’t regret it. Not one bit. If anything, joining Chris’ pack, becoming close to him and Changbin to help them lead it, was the third best thing that could’ve ever happened to Minho.

‘Changbin’s my right hand. Although it doesn’t make much sense to have a second in command when we’re, like, three dudes only, I feel like at any point more people could join us, so I like to be prepared’, Chris, the leader–the alpha–of that pack of Jisung’s wasn’t that much older than Minho, but there was something about him that exuded leadership and comfort. It was so obvious even someone like Minho, who wasn’t that in touch with his wolf instincts, was able to tell this man was a real alpha. 

‘It’s very customary for the alpha of the pack to have at least two other people next to them to deal with all possible pack matters, and Jisung believes you might be suitable for that. He said, and I quote, that you have a heart of gold. He vouches for you, and I trust him, so if you want to join and help me out, you’re more than welcome to. Hell, you’re welcome even if you don’t want to help me lead specifically, but it’s important you know that as a pack, we must always look out for each other’, Chris’ proposal was straight forward. No matter what role Minho would fill in, he was welcome to join them.

Being honest with himself, Minho wasn’t really that much of a leader–not in his opinion, at least–but the prospect of joining a pack seemed to tickle something on the back of his mind. He supposed it was one of those instinctual things he didn’t understand well, but, in a way, Chris made him feel reassured, so he told him he’d be happy to join and help him out however he could. With one condition, though.

‘You see, I’ve got my best friend… Not sure if Jisung has told you about her. She’s human, and she’s very important to me. If joining your pack of werewolves means I can’t see her anymore then I’m not doing it’, Minho loved Jisung, and he had a good impression of Chris and Changbin, but, truly, if joining them meant he had to leave you behind, he’d much rather stay on his own.

He knew from Jisung that the moment you moved into a werewolf den, a lot of decisions had to involve the alpha’s approval, and considering you were human, Minho had a genuine fear of Chris telling him that humans simply weren’t allowed. He’d honestly much rather shoot himself in the leg than have to cut ties with you. You’d been the only constant in his life, and losing you was something he just couldn’t afford. You meant too much to him. Maybe more than he would’ve liked to admit back then.

Thankfully, Chris didn’t seem to have major issues with that. If anything, all he did was ask to meet you before you could stay at his den, and as long as you were someone that could be trusted, he wouldn’t have any problems with your presence at the den. That was fine, there was no doubt in Minho’s mind that Chris would like you and see just how nice you were.

He had obviously been right. Your first time meeting Chris couldn’t have gone more smoothly. Not even fifteen minutes passed and he was already dragging Minho to the side and telling him it was all good. 

‘I think she’s nice. It’s fine by me if your kitten drops by or stays over whenever you guys want’, Chris had patted him on the back, with a teasing grin on his face, taking special care to stress the word kitten–which was a nickname Minho had given you randomly one day years ago while trying to cheer you up.

Giving you that nickname had been a moment of weakness, a moment in which he also had been sad and his inhibitions had lowered a bit. The pet name just fell out of his mouth, it had practically been a perfect textbook definition of a Freudian slip, considering Minho had, quite stupidly, developed a crush on you by then.

Chris was a good person, but he also seemed to enjoy teasing Minho whenever his more than obvious crush presented itself, even when Minho himself was in denial about it.

Minho was convinced you didn’t feel anything other than platonic love towards him, so he always tried to delude himself into thinking he absolutely didn’t have a crush on you. You were his best friend, one of the most important people in his life, and he would never risk losing you over what he believed to be unrequited feelings.

Sometimes, though, it was almost impossible not to think about you in ways that would definitely be considered inappropriate. It was easy in his day to day life, but, twice a year, he had to face the fact that his feelings for you went beyond your friendship…

Minho was well aware that he was a weird guy. Throughout his life, he had only ever cared about animals, Kamen Rider, and you and Jisung. He could hardly hold a normal, civil conversation if it didn’t involve any of those things, he said things and had odd habits that could potentially put off people around him, and that was only on his human side. His wolf side was a whole other can of worms.

He already had a hard time understanding his basic human needs, and that seemed to triple when it came to his animal needs. For a long time he couldn’t tell when he needed to go on a run, or when he was in a bad mood because of a weird scent around him, and no need to even get started on whatever the hell was happening with his ruts…

Figuring out that he now had to go through days of unbearable horniness was by far one of the weirdest experiences Minho ever had to deal with during this whole ‘being turned into a half animal’ thing. After he reached sexual maturity, twice a year, he had a time period of around four to five days when every single one of his instincts and senses pulled him into a trance-like state in which all he wanted to do was fuck.

But not only did he want to fuck… He specifically wanted to breed someone. And even more specifically, he wanted to breed you.

It was awful. The whole ordeal was physically, emotionally, and mentally exhausting.

The first time he went into rut, he was sure the pain he was feeling came close to the one he briefly felt back when he had been bit and turned. His body was increasingly warm, he was sweating buckets, his cock was hard for an almost criminal amount of time, and nothing he did made it better. 

Even if he managed to make himself come, it barely helped him feel relieved. If anything, it got him more frustrated, to the point where he would start breaking things around him–both intentionally and unintentionally.

The worst part of going into rut, though, was the thoughts he had throughout those days. He could only think of you. Of kissing you, of tasting those utmost sensitive areas of your body, of bending you over and ramming himself into you until he got tied to you and got to fill you to the brim with his cum…

Logic was something that didn’t exist for him in this time period, so those thoughts ran freely in his mind for the duration of his rut… thoughts that he had to come face to face once his rut subsided and he could think like a human again instead of a horny dog.

Needless to say, Minho couldn’t look at your face for a whole month after he went through his first rut. He was haunted by the images his imagination had produced at the time, and he was convinced you didn’t deserve that, that he had somehow broken your trust. It was something he never spoke about with anyone. Not even Jisung. He made a vow to keep this a secret in order to protect your friendship.

Little did Minho know that his friendship with you didn’t need to be protected from anything…

Many years after his first rut, sharing a bed with you during one fateful trip to the woods with the whole pack, was all it took for the line of your friendship to blur completely. Minho had been in denial about his feelings for so long, he had been completely blind to your feelings.

That night, with his senses enhanced by the moon, with his animal instincts bubbling to the forefront of his human mind, that need for you seemed to be impossible to ignore. While he laid with you on that bed, under the covers, being your big spoon, he couldn’t help but get lost in how fast your heart was beating the tighter he hugged you, he was drowning in your lavender scent, and he genuinely didn’t want to be rescued.

You staring at his mouth for a moment too long while he hovered over you had suddenly ignited a spark of hope deep within him. That, added to your increased heart rate, and what he couldn’t mistake for anything other than arousal lingering in your scent, was quickly making him delirious.

‘Kitten… Why are you… Why are you looking at my mouth?’

‘Just thinking…’

‘About?’

‘Things I should not be thinking about’. 

After the words came out of your mouth, and with all the sensory inputs around him, Minho suddenly felt so incredibly stupid.

How had he never noticed that your body seemed to react to him in the same ways his did to you? How long had it been doing that? He had been blindsided by his own desperate attempts to not drive you away from him with his feelings, he had never noticed you looking at him in the same way he looked at you.

He wasn’t sure if it had been the moon reinforcing his stunted instincts just enough to enhance his questionable sense of awareness, but as he looked at you, as he saw just how blown your pupils were, as he watched you stare at his mouth, all caution flew out the window. For once, he decided to take a chance, and the moment his lips made contact with yours, the moment the tiniest of moans left your mouth with the contact, he just knew he had made the right choice.

Kissing you, after so many years of trying not to think of what it would feel like, was even better than he could’ve ever imagined. Minho was ravenous, desperate to feel as much of you as he possibly could, and you, very clearly, were in a similar state.

You both agreed–while still kissing, if he might add–that you needed to discuss the situation, but, admittedly, neither of you wanted to stop. So you didn’t, but only after reaching a compromise to talk about it later.

Minho honestly couldn’t even tell how many times you both had sex that night. It seemed like he’d entered a time pocket in which the only thing that mattered was indulging in each other’s body as many times as you possibly could.

By the time you were both thoroughly satisfied, he simply hugged you close under the covers, relishing the feel of your bare skin against his, relishing the feel of your head on his chest and his arms around your frame. Hugging you to sleep, especially this intimately, was everything he could’ve ever hoped for.

It wasn’t like he’d never hugged you to sleep. He’d shared a bed with you many times in the past, but doing it after having your lips on his, after knowing how it felt like to be inside you, and the mere idea that you reciprocated his feelings, was enough to make him fall asleep smiling to himself like a fool.

Even the next morning, when Minho woke up, still very much naked, when he turned around to find you already awake and looking at him, he couldn’t help but smile like a fool once again. Especially not when you were smiling so bright yourself.

“Morning”, you mumbled, immediately shuffling closer so you could tuck your head under his chin and hug his waist.

“Morning, kitten”, Minho pressed a kiss to the top of your head and hugged you even closer, slotting one of his legs between yours to further tangle your limbs together.

You just hummed, nuzzling his neck before you started to press kisses on it. Your soft lips on his skin sent a shiver down his spine, which certainly didn’t help ease the effects of morning wood.

Minho was drowsy, maybe even still horny, but he needed to have this conversation with you, or he was sure he’d explode. “Can we talk about it now?”

You pulled yourself away from his neck to look him in the eyes. Reaching forward with your hand, you pushed his hair out of his eyes, and the movement made them fall shut. “What do you wanna talk about?”

You kept playing with his hair for a bit, then traced the features of his face with the pad of one of your fingers, until his eyes opened again.

“I need to know where we go from here”.

You took a deep breath, mulling his words. Finally, you retracted your hand from his face to hold his hand instead. “Minho, I let you do things to me last night that I’ve never let anyone else do. I don’t know about you, but I hope where we go from here is a relationship”.

Minho couldn’t help but wonder then if he would ever stop smiling like a fool after all this. “So you’re my girlfriend now? Is this what we’re doing?”

“Only if you’re my boyfriend”, you chuckled, leaning in to press a brief kiss on his cheek.

Minho hugged your waist, and he pulled you closer into him. “Mmm… Your ex is gonna have a field day if he ever finds out”.

Your ex had spent the last leg of your relationship with him convinced you had cheated on him with Minho. During the big fight that led to your breakup, he had told you how obvious it was that Minho had feelings for you. At the time you just dumped his ass, and Minho, Jisung, and you spent a whole evening just dragging his name through the mud.

That relationship didn’t last long anyway. He was probably, in Minho’s opinion, the worst partner you had ever had. He was insecure, misogynistic, and manipulative. You hadn’t cheated on him, but Minho supposed there was one thing he had been right about… he did have feelings for you back then.

You scoffed at the mention of your ex, rolling your eyes. “Just like your ex probably will, too”.

Ah, Minho’s ex… It had been a long time since Minho had been in a relationship, but how could he forget the ex that made him choose between him and you?

He could admit it was an asshole move to be involved romantically with someone while having feelings for someone else, but back then he was so deep in denial he couldn’t even acknowledge what he felt for you. Regardless, you were still his friend, and he’d never choose anyone else over one of his friends. In his opinion, someone that cared about him would never make him choose in the first place.

“I guess we’ll have to let them froth at the mouth with rage and believe whatever they want to believe. That is, if they still care”, Minho chuckled, rolling you on your back to start pressing kisses all over your face, making you giggle.

That seemingly innocent act of smothering your face with kisses turned into a much less innocent mess of lips and tongues. Minho came to find out that making out with you was absolutely exhilarating, especially when it ended with his mouth between your legs.

Fucking you that morning might’ve not been the smartest move to make when you both were about to walk into a kitchen full of people with enhanced senses, but Minho figured that if anyone commented on it, he didn’t care. It wasn’t like he was going to keep it a secret, anyway.

Although, he’d admit that having Jisung scream it to everyone in the room caught him off guard. Just like learning that everyone had placed bets on whether Minho and you would get together last night also caught him off guard.

He figured he deserved that last one, considering he himself had also gotten the rest of the pack to place bets on whether Chris and his girlfriend would fuck last night or not…

In any case, other than the bet, the whole pack seemed to seamlessly embrace this new dynamic between you and Minho. After all, starting a relationship with you didn’t change things much.

You still lived almost an hour away from him, you still encouraged him to indulge in his interests, you still talked every day… If anything, the only major difference was that you met more frequently now. Seeing you weekly instead of monthly was certainly an improvement.

It was kind of amusing to Minho how everything was almost the same. He still took you places, still held your hand and hugged you and brushed your hair out of your face whenever he felt like it, but now he could let his fingers linger on your skin for longer, he could lean in and press a kiss wherever he wanted on your face, and, at the end of the day, he could take you home and fuck you dumb for as long as you’d let him.

There was only one thing, though, that seemed to be a problem… It was something he didn’t really want to acknowledge, but he knew would explode on his face at some point.

Minho was an animal.

Eventually, he’d go into rut, and knowing you, he was sure you’d want to help him go through it.

Minho had never spoken to you about his ruts, but he knew you’d learnt a great deal about it from the other girls at the den as well as Jisung. You’d never brought it up to him before, and he was sure it was because you simply knew he didn’t want to talk about it. 

Now that you were his girlfriend, it was only a matter of time before he’d have to face this problem head on. Because that was what this whole thing was to Minho… a problem. 

Even if during his rut all he could think about was you, he usually got violent. Very violent.

He’d punch walls and break numerous pieces of furniture and appliances, and having you there with him could put you at risk of getting caught in the cross-fire. If he ever hurt you, Minho would never, ever forgive himself. Especially when he just knew you would. You would make excuses for him, you’d enable him and his animal ways like you always did, and he just didn’t want to put you in that position.

Granted, he should’ve probably told you all this, and he had been hyping himself up to do it, but you had been faster than him. The night you finally asked him about his rut he had been severely unprepared to handle the situation.

Minho told you he wouldn’t spend his rut with you. He could’ve probably worded it better, but before he knew it the situation escalated and you were having an argument and he had unintentionally made you feel unwanted, which was just so far from reality…

He wanted to tell you just how much he wanted you, but before he could you’d put space between yourselves and left him there on his own. It was late at night when it happened, but he wasn’t necessarily worried for your safety when you left, because he just knew you’d either go to one of the girls’ flats or to Jisung’s.

Forty minutes after the whole ordeal, he received a text from Jisung confirming his suspicions. The younger wolf told him you were at his place and that he’d take care of you for the night, which Minho was immensely grateful for.

He spent the entire night tossing and turning, wondering how to best word his predicament so he wouldn’t inadvertently hurt you and make you feel unwanted again. Essentially, his reservations when it came to spending his rut with you had nothing to do with you, and all to do with him.

So, the next morning, he made his way to Jisung’s and waited patiently for you to wake up. Jisung had given him a rundown of what had happened the night before, without revealing too much of what you’d told him since he usually liked to keep your conversations as private as possible–just like he kept the conversations he had with Minho as private as possible whenever he spoke to you.

So, when you woke up, Minho immediately explained the situation. He confessed to you how he’d always wanted you, how he couldn’t stop thinking about you whenever he went into rut, and how he got incredibly violent during that time period, so violent he feared he would harm you in any way.

You understood, of course. You always did.

You apologised for jumping to conclusions, and for forcing him to talk about something when he was clearly not ready to do it, which he appreciated. He also apologised for not communicating properly, an apology that you also seemed to accept. At the end of the day, he understood why the whole thing happened in the first place, and he made a mental note to try and not keep things like these from you ever again. 

Funny thing, how the universe always seems to play with people like they were little pieces in a funky little game.

When Minho did go into rut, he was so out of it he completely forgot to let you or anyone else know. You had a tendency to drop by his place unannounced, which he didn’t mind, but that day, it was far from ideal, to say the least.

He was sweating, frustrated, in pain, and the second he heard the beeps of the front door’s lock and the smell of your scent hit him, he just lost it.

It was all a blur after that. He tried to hold back, to tell you to leave, but you didn’t. Of course you wouldn’t leave…

To his surprise, that violence that seemed to seep out of him whenever he went into rut wasn’t there. His thoughts were plagued with only you and your lavender scent and the need to pleasure you and to pump you full of his pups.

When he finally managed to do all that, he quickly realised that he’d only ever been violent because he couldn’t have you. In retrospect, he should’ve known. But he’d proven to be tone deaf enough to not understand what his needs were, and this clearly wasn’t an exception.

Nothing had felt quite as fulfilling as spending that rut with you. It was all he’d ever wanted and more. His almost endless supply of cum, his knot, his insatiable need to fuck and fuck and fuck… You’d taken it all like a champ, and even when he wasn’t that in tune with his inner wolf, he could still feel just how proud it was, how proud he was of you.

The word mate kept repeating over and over in his mind the entire time, and he supposed you were his mate, all things considered.

Forever was a big word, but Minho figured that, at least at that point in time, he couldn’t ever imagine his life with anyone else. Especially not now that you were finally sharing your feelings with each other after years and years of pining.

For all he knew, anything that could have potentially been a problem in his relationship with you had been addressed after that. Minho was happy, you were happy, and it all seemed to have taken its natural course.

Except for one maybe not so small thing…

Minho wanted you to move in with him. He’d honestly wanted it since before you got together. He missed you often, and he wanted to spend as much time with you as possible.

The distance during the week was starting to stress him out way more than he’d like to admit, and even if he’d been slowly making space in his flat for you, he knew he’d ask you sooner or later. He hadn’t brought the topic up after you got together because he knew your job was important to you, and moving in with him would probably mean you’d have to quit and find something else closer to where the den was.

He could offer to support you financially, but he just knew you wouldn’t have wanted that. The second you’d started working and being financially independent, you couldn’t imagine ever having to rely on someone else–that was what you had told him all those years ago, at least…

You moving in with him made so much sense, though. Some weekends, Minho would go over to your place, but you’d told him several times that you preferred his home over yours. You’d told him it was more lively, that you enjoyed the presence of the other pack members, and that the only thing you genuinely liked about your flat was that Sir Percival was in it.

Sir Percival was your elderly cat that you adopted when you were a child. He was one of the many cats Minho had rescued, and he was probably the reason you ever spoke to Minho in the first place. Back then, the day you met, you approached him only because he was trying to save Sir Percival’s entire litter that had been abandoned by the side of the road.

So, yes. You moving in with him to Chris’ den just made all the sense in the world to him. Especially at moments like these.

Whenever Minho got to lay on your bed like he was doing now, he could certainly understand why you felt that his flat was more homely. You hardly had any decor in your room, and the whole flat was in a similar state. You never particularly liked this place in the first place, but you stayed because it was close to work and rent was relatively cheap.

‘I’ll probably move out soon, so no need to go all in on the decoration’, you’d told Minho years ago when you moved in. You kept putting it off, and now here this place was, void of anything that would highlight your wonderful personality other than the cat toys littering the floor, and the cat tower in the corner of your living room.

Whenever Minho came over, Sir Percival always avoided coming to your room unless it was absolutely necessary. The cat had told Minho that if he ever walked in on them having sex again he’d purposefully ruin the mood by throwing up a hairball, so he preferred to stay in the living room, even if it meant he couldn’t sleep by your feet like he loved to do.

That was fair, Minho supposed. He didn’t feel comfortable having Sir Percival in the room when you were getting intimate, either, so he appreciated the privacy. 

Right now, though, since he had woken up in the middle of the night and hadn’t been able to fall asleep again, he was wondering if he should go out and bring Sir Percival to bed. Maybe his warmth and his purring could help him fall asleep again…

Unlike Minho, you were sleeping soundly next to him, with your back turned to him. If he stood up from this bed he might wake you up, and he didn’t want you to be in his situation… So he settled on focusing on your steady breathing while he waited for sleep to claim him again.

It was just as he was almost asleep again that a minute sound made his body jerk awake. 

It came from you. It was a whimper, barely even audible. But how could he not hear it with his enhanced senses? When you were so close?

It would’ve worried him, had the smell of your arousal not knocked the air straight out of his lungs.

Minho would’ve never imagined his sleepless night would’ve taken him to this intersection, but here he was. He realised he could do one of three things… One, he could ignore the fact that you were right there next to him, presumably having a wet dream… Two, he could wake you up to reenact whatever it was you were dreaming about… Or three, he could use this as an opportunity to indulge in something he hardly ever did…

Since he started a relationship with you, Minho and you had many opportunities to try new things. You were quite open to try any and every seemingly odd activity in the bedroom–be it anal, or role-play, or some light bondage, you were always down to try it. And when Minho brought up his little fantasy of touching you while you were asleep, you’d been more than ecstatic to try it out… To the point where he was sure if he hadn’t brought it up, you would’ve done so eventually.

There was something about the fact that you trusted him enough to let him do things to you while you were unconscious that excited him. Maybe it was a projection of all those nights back then that he’d spent trying not to fantasise about you when you slept together, or maybe it was simply the act itself that he inexplicably enjoyed… Regardless of what it was, your little whimpers had his mind clouding a bit.

Sometimes, before you fell asleep next to each other, you’d turn to him and tell him ‘Maybe I’ll wake up to a surprise tomorrow…’ with that lilt in your voice that just let him know exactly in which way you wanted him to wake you up. That had been the case last night, and Minho had considered doing it a bit later, when the sun was starting to rise at least. But he figured, since you were already having a bit of fun in your dreams, maybe a midnight treat wouldn’t hurt.

Scooting closer to you, his hand found your waist. He held you tight while he pressed his nose to your pulsepoint, right under your jaw. He could hear your blood flowing, your heart rate increasing, and the scent of your excitement had him almost salivating.

Dragging his hand from your waist to your hip, he carefully caressed your body over the fabric of your sleeping gown, just as he pressed his growing erection against your ass. A tiny moan escaped your mouth, but your steady heartbeat let him know you were still pretty much asleep.

Whatever it was you were dreaming about had you shuffling the tiniest bit, enough for your ass to rub against his crotch, and he could already feel a bit of wetness soiling the material of his sleeping shorts. His own fluids, to be precise. It was one of those things that shocked him after he turned, just how much fluid his body could produce. Be it saliva, or sweat, or cum… It was slightly inconvenient, but at the very least, you always seemed to enjoy it, so he supposed it wasn’t so bad.

Minho dragged his hand from where it’d been caressing your hip up your torso, stopping only when he was finally able to cup one of your breasts. He generously fondled and squeezed the flesh, not holding back one bit. If you woke up, you woke up, and if you didn’t, you didn’t. Simple as that.

Dragging the pad of one of his fingers over your stiffening nipple, he relished the way your heartbeat picked up, as well as the way you started to writhe a bit in his hold.

“You’re so soft, baby…” Minho couldn’t help but mumble against the skin of your neck, and you whined, almost like you were reacting to him. And maybe you were. He liked to believe that to be the case.

He pinched and twisted your nipple between his fingers, pressing kisses on your neck and grinding his now fully hardened length against your ass. “I wonder what you’re dreaming about, my kitten… Is it me? I hope it’s me…”

Minho was very quiet, but he hoped you could hear him even in your dreams. He figured you might’ve, considering how fast your heart was beating now.

He was genuinely planning on dragging this out for as long as possible, but when you mumbled something akin to his name, he simply couldn’t hold back any longer. He removed his hand from your breast after one final hefty squeeze, only to bring that same hand between your bodies. His digits made contact with your entrance, and he couldn’t help but take in a deep breath at just how wet you were.

He wondered how much of it was your own arousal, and how much of it was his own cum that might’ve remained there from when you had sex last night before going to bed. He didn’t come inside often, but when he did, the thought of you having a part of him within your warmth did things to him, it tickled a secluded area of his brain, and it certainly excited him. He supposed it was instinctual. One of those wolf things he hardly ever paid attention to.

Delaying no further, he freed himself out of his sleeping shorts, just enough to drag the tip of his cock up and down your drenched folds. Minho almost got winded when he heard the moan that came out of your mouth in response to his motions. Your lavender scent wrapping around every single one of his nerve-endings enticed him, and he just couldn’t deny himself anymore.

He usually preferred to make sure you were well stretched enough to take him in, but considering you’d been stretched plenty last night, he figured you’d be just fine. And he was proven correct when he finally pushed himself fully within your warmth, when the wetness between yours legs let him slide in with ease.

Minho couldn’t help but groan at the feeling, just as a moan of your own escaped your mouth.

“You’re so warm, baby…”

He pulled his hips back, only to push them forward to start a slow, pleasant rhythm. His hold was tight on your hip, your heart sounded like it was close to leaping out of your chest, and the second your walls clenched on his length, he just knew you’d wake up soon… You’d wake up exactly to what you had wanted.

“Oh–oh, Minho…”

There was no mistaking it anymore, your barely audible moans had slightly increased in tone, and you’d started to push your hips back a bit.

Minho just hummed in response, dragging his hand from your hip to your lower belly. You placed your own hand on top of his, lacing your fingers together and sighing contently.

The kisses he left on your neck and the exposed skin of your shoulder seemed to spur you on, the movement of your hips increased in pace, and he just increased his in return. He was mumbling nonsense against your skin, tightening his hold on your interlocked fingers, getting completely lost in the feel of your tight warmth around him.

Before he knew it, you had turned your body a bit, and he had pushed your legs apart to get better access to your heat.

With an arm below you for his hand to hold yours, he took advantage of this position by using his other hand to pull one of your legs over his hip and for his fingers to find their rightful place between your legs.

You just kissed him. You kissed him like you’d die if you didn’t, mumbling words of appreciation of your own between each kiss, broken up by moans and sighs and whimpers with every thrust of his hips and every circle drawn on your clit.

“You’re so good to me”, you mumbled, tightening your hold on his hand, moaning so prettily he almost blew then and there.

“And you to me”, he replied simply, picking up his pace, relishing your scent and your warmth and just… you.

Time always seemed to slow down whenever you had sex, especially at these hours of the night, to the point where he could never tell how long it’d been since that first thrust. All Minho could register was how incredibly good he felt, how your heart was thumping fast in your chest, and how hard you were clamping around his cock.

The sounds you made whenever you came undone under his touch and his motions were like music to his ears, they spurred him on, borderline urged him to come himself. And there was certainly hardly anything he would’ve enjoyed more right now than to blow his load while you were still spasming around him, while all you could mumble was his name, while all he could mumble was yours.

Your chest rose and fell with your deep breaths, and while the after effects of his orgasm still clung to every single one of his senses, you pulled him in for a slow, tender kiss. Minho immediately melted, holding you tighter and still enjoying the comfort of your inner walls.

When you pulled back from the kiss, he brushed his nose against yours, making you smile and giggle, and you sounded incredibly sleepy even after all that had transpired just minutes ago. He pulled you into his arms, entangling his legs with yours as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

Everything was calm around you. The room was barely illuminated by the lampposts outside your windows, and Minho suddenly felt like humming a random song you’d been listening to earlier in the evening… So he did, all as he caressed your hair.

You nuzzled your face further into his chest, wrapping an arm around his waist and holding him tight. Right then, Minho figured that every choice he had ever made, that everything that had happened to him, had taken him to this moment, and if that were truly the case, then he honestly wouldn’t have changed it for the world.

“Babe?” You mumbled, the sound slightly muffled against the fabric of his vest top.

“Hm?” Minho kept caressing your hair, your back, holding you close and keeping you there.

“I love you”.

He honestly couldn’t help but smile. Of course he knew you loved him. You’d shown him just how much countless times before. Not only throughout your relationship, but way before that… He’d honestly known since that time you hugged him when he had shapeshifted into a wolf the very first time.

“I love you, kitten, baby… So much”.

You pulled away from his chest and looked at him, with a blinding smile on your face. Granted, he could hardly see it in the dark room, but he saw enough. Enough to know just how much you cared. 

But alas, Minho was first and foremost your best friend, and even if he was melting on the inside with your confession, he just had to be annoying about it. “I can’t believe you beat me to say it first, though. I won’t ever forgive you”.

You gasped dramatically, bringing a hand to your mouth for emphasis. “Here I am? Baring my heart to you? And this is what I get? Fine, I won’t ever forgive you for never forgiving me”.

You were just about to turn away from him, he just knew. So he held you tighter, keeping you in place while he laughed. Your façade crumbled immediately, and you laughed with him, all while he kept pressing kisses on your cheeks.

“Guess I’ll just have to say it as much as possible to get the upper hand”, Minho mumbled against your cheek, just before he started leaving behind an ‘I love you’ after every kiss he pressed on your heated skin.

When your chuckles died down, and he was satisfied with the amount of times he had professed his love, silence enveloped you both once again. Minho simply laid on his back, hugging you close as you laid your head on his chest, right over his heart.

He wasn’t sure if it was the admittance of his feelings, or the hormonal rush of a good fuck, or your lavender scent that seemed to make him delirious sometimes, but, before he knew it, the words were coming out of his mouth with no way to stop them.

“Would you like to move in with me?”

No take-backsies now, he supposed.

You took in a deep breath, but remained silent for a moment.

It was just as Minho was about to panic that you finally spoke. “Do you think Chris would accept Sir Percival into the pack as well? I’m not leaving him behind”.

Minho couldn’t help but chuckle. “He’ll have to. Otherwise I’ll threaten him until he does”.

It was all a bluff… mostly.

Minho would respect any decision Chris took, but if it came to it, he kind of knew that if he laid out why it was important to him to take in both you and Sir Percival, Chris would agree, so he wasn’t particularly worried. Sir Percival already respected Chris, from what Minho knew, so he was almost ninety percent sure it wouldn’t be a problem.

You took in another deep breath, pulling yourself away from Minho’s hug so you could straddle him instead. With your full weight on his body and your hands on his chest, you looked down at him, taking in his features.

“I guess I’ll need to start applying for jobs, then”, you just smiled brightly at him.

Minho held your waist, smiling at you in return right before he pulled you down for a kiss. With you and Sir Percival there at the den, his family would finally be complete, and he felt as if his heart was about to burst at the thought.

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General Masterlist Minho's WereRoomies Instalments: Camping With Wolves & Dog Unleashed

[cultofdixon]

It is no one’s fault for unexpected tragedies

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • Accidents happen every day. That hasn’t changed because of the end of the world…so why are you trying to blame yourself, Dixon? • ANGST/SFW • TW: Major Injuries / Blood Loss / Anxiety Attacks / Nightmares

Requested by: Anon

“You’re going on that run tomorrow right?” Daryl asks his partner who was busy packing for said run, so it was stating the obvious in hopes that Y/N would invite him. But she knows his games.

“Yes, and I’ll be at the Kingdom by nightfall. I’ll manage without you” Y/N smiles leaning into her man when he brings himself close bringing his arms around her. “Think you’ll manage without me?”

“Nah. I’ll always need yea” Daryl felt the twitch of a smile grace his features when Y/N turned around to face him and pressed her lips to his cheek.

As the next morning follows, Daryl leans against the car Y/N will be taking as she puts her bag in the trunk along with the trading good for the Kingdom.

“Don’t cause too much trouble when I’m gone, Dixon”

“You try not to cause any trouble, Dixon” He smiles warmly bringing her into his embrace for a moment holding her and occasionally planting kisses on her temple.

“You’re trying to butter me up to invite you or to distract me long enough to stay”

“Is it working?” He hums bringing his lips to hers as she happily returns the soft gentle kiss before gently pushing herself off of him. “You wound me, sunshine”

“You have work to do as well, love. Better go get it done.” Y/N smiles pulling him off the car before getting into the driver Daryl instantly brought himself to the window stealing one more kiss before getting roped into anything and everything Rick asks of him.

It’s been a couple of hours and Daryl sat on the porch of his home holding the radio in his hand giving it another second before calling in to any open line hoping someone from the Kingdom to answer. Just his luck that Carol was the first to chime back.

“Hey?”

“It’s Daryl”

“Ha, no shit. Did you need something, Daryl?”

“I was uh wondering…if Y/N made it there and if I could talk to her” Daryl frowns hoping for a yes from the other side as he never liked being apart from his partner.

“She’s currently sleeping. Went hunting on her drive over here.”

“Seriously? She didn’t take her hunting rifle”

“You know Y/N. She’s a creative person, she got creative and brought a buck over. You are uh missing out if I do say so”

“Well I can always come—-“

“She’s sleeping! Are you seriously going to come here and disturb her?”

Daryl didn’t like where this conversation was going and grew a bit of a suspicion. “Carol. I was talkin’ to try the buck. I ain’t gonna interrupt her sleep…but a little hunting just for one piece of game shouldn’t have worn her out”

“Well, she did also stop at a few cars along the way to siphon for gas. Yknow, what we are supposed to do while Maggie devises a plan for an alternative fuel source that isn’t solar”

Carol is a smart woman and knows how to knock the archer off her “scent”. “Seriously Daryl. Just come over tomorrow”

“Y/N is supposed to come home tomorrow”

“Well, that’s too bad. Guess she has to stay here so that the two of you go home together. Besides, you were already planning to come for breakfast if Rick didn’t ask you to take the morning watch” Carol took a swing with her guessing and the silence from the other end only confirmed it. The grumble that got picked up also did. “We shall see you tomorrow”

“Tell Y/N I said goodnight.” Pause. “And I love her” Then the line finally turns off.

Carol stood in the hallway to the housing section of the Kingdom that included the mess hall and their designated rooms for their infirmary when she took the call from her best friend. Her best friend could sniff out lies…but didn’t this time.

“Hey,” Carol quickly turned to Siddiq, who did weekly visits to other communities, giving her a concerned look. “She’s awake”

“Okay…Can I be alone with her?”

“Yeah, I’ll be getting her water. Were you talking to Daryl? Did you tell him yet?”

“No…Should I have?”

“If she was dying, yeah. But it’s still…a lot. Maybe in the morning tell him?” Siddiq questioned while passing his friend he didn’t overhear the conversation because Carol knew for a fact Daryl would be coming in the morning.

Whether Y/N had a near death experience or not.

When Carol entered the room to find her friend lay in bed. She looked exhausted, broken in physical and mental places, but brought her attention to the soft steps her friend gave and shown her a smile on her face before it faded when looking at her injuries.

“Can’t believe I almost died over a deer…”

“You did bring us back a plentiful feast from the buck” Carol tried to joke with her to lighten the mood but the way Y/N went from exhausted to emotionless to overwhelmed in the matter of seconds, it wasn’t the time. “Hey hey…I’m sorry I shouldn’t have tried to make light on very recent matters…I’m just. So thankful you’re still alive”

“I could’ve died…could’ve been worse than broken bones and several deep wounds. I’ve…I’ve gotten so used to this life and how grateful I am for the now…how the fuck did those stupid fucking deer not see me?” Y/N sobbed no matter how painful her broken ribs felt when trying to catch a deep breath to calm her, or the throbbing pain from her broken wrist and dislocated ankle. More had happened and more could’ve happened.

Throughout the night, Ezekiel came in to check on Carol who wasn’t going to leave her friend’s side and helped in any way that he could for both his partner and Y/N. Eventually they decided to use the oxygen tank they found to keep some flow steady for Y/N given every chance she tried to sleep she would trigger an anxiety attack making it difficult to breathe and her ribs were already doing a number on her.

The morning came and Daryl had radio’d in before coming so Carol could prepare entirely for what she was going to tell him. But she also prepared for in the moment it was going to fly out the window.

Daryl came through the gates of the Kingdom noticing Ezekiel first as he waves at him giving him a waiting gesture so that he could fetch Carol. But the archer grew curious about the tense atmosphere when he parked his bike, not finding the vehicle Y/N had came in.

“Hey man! You here for breakfast with Carol?” Jerry approaches Daryl as he gave the man a confused look. “Hey? What’s up?”

“Y/N’s car ain’t around. Did she leave?”

“Uh no. She uhm. Got a flat so one of our people is taking a look at it. She’s still…somewhere!” Jerry laughs with a shrug as he quickly takes his leave into the direction of where Y/N really is, knowing Carol is there. But he kept glancing behind him to make sure Daryl wasn’t following.

He wasn’t. But he is investigating further.

But it meant him being a bit nosey in his scary silent way.

A few Kingdom people were tending to a lot of repairs regarding its community and Daryl thought those few would be the best to ask around about any vehicle maintenance but the answers revolved around…

Had to fill one up with gas

The tire repair would’ve been tricky if we didn’t have to spare

Did you know duct tape is a good tool to keep a bumper on?

Nothing really of use until Daryl found a man going through the engine of a familiar model to the car his partner took but he honestly can’t entirely recall what the car was since he was more focused on Y/N.

“Need a hand?” Daryl decided to come off the helpful route to see if he gets more out of the guy.

“Uh” This guy gave the archer a confused look before moving aside giving him access to look for himself.

“There’s nothing wrong with it” Now Daryl was even more confused while looking at the engine before reaching in and taking out a piece of an antler. “Someone hit a buck?”

“More like…a buck and a half. I was just told to get rid of the evidence before trying to repair the car cosmetically” He groans gesturing for Daryl to step back to close the hood as they watch it bounce up. “Yeah this’ll take a while”

“What happened to the person driving it?”

“Oh you should’ve been there. She came in with the buck through the windshield and the deer barely hanging onto the hood. It was fucking awful. I haven’t heard about her condition yet, that Siddiq fella that makes his rounds every few weeks? If he wasn’t here when she came in, she probably would’ve died to her injuries”

Daryl watches the man round the car to check the back of it, leaving him to check the drivers seat and once he opened the door he brings himself to sit so he could reach the glove box finding Y/N’s journal. She always brings that on her drives. His anxiety went from steady to overwhelming in the matter of seconds as he left the vehicle knowing exactly where to go next.

Carol stood in the hallway after being informed that Daryl was on the premises and it will only take him a matter of time before he barged into the building.

“How bad is it?!”

“Daryl—-“ Carol stopped him in his tracks as he instantly fought against her.

“NO! If she’s dead and yea didn’t tell me I’m gonna—-“

“She’s not dead, Daryl!” She raised her voice loud enough for her words to pass his rushing thoughts as he relaxed from trying to toss his friend over to get to Y/N. “She’s in a lot of pain, even with the meds we gave her. You need to be careful going in there”

“H-…Sh…She’s fine?”

“Yes. She’s going to be fine. You need to get that look off your face” The archer instantly scoffed as Carol gripped his shoulders. “She’ll read your expression in an instant Daryl. You know she will. Don’t even try and make this your fault when it’s not. It’s not hers either. Freak accidents happen”

“I know that…w-what makes yea think…” Daryl frowns avoiding her eyes contact knowing damn well she’s giving him a concerned but obvious expression. He tries to make everything his fault when most incidents aren’t.

They all know this.

The door creaked open startling Y/N a bit as she’s been in and out of that exhaustion fog caused by pain and medication. She tried her best to look at what made the noise but when she saw Daryl step in she felt her heart race and the tears threaten to spill.

“H-Hey” She rasped out as Daryl brought himself to sit carefully on the side of her bed taking note of her injuries resulting in his pulling it all together look to one of fear and sadness as he tried to turn his face away but she used her good hand to grab onto his forearm forcing him to look at the connection before connecting their eyes. “Don’t…”

“…I’m tryin’ not to…”

“This…ugh” Y/N tried to stop the tears. “Was so f-fucking freak. It’s no one’s fault but the goddamn buck”

Daryl couldn’t help the short lived chuckle to escape him as he held onto her arm keeping close as he could to her.

“It did a number on your car. Yea lucky I saved your journal”

“Okay it wasn’t a fucking monster deer that tore the car a new one. It was multiple and no where near the glove compartment” Y/N laughs lightly pulling her hand away only to hold her ribs when she laughed. “I’m so not including this in that book”

“I don’t know…it’d be a page turner” He decided to keep lighthearted on the matter for the time being.

Even if the nights they’ve spent there, Daryl found himself awake by her side in case she needed anything. Least he wasn’t bullying himself as he sat awake. He was just. There for her.

[izvmimi]

All Roads Lead to Love? - Chapter II

cw: canon-typical violence. quirk use. oc characters are introduced. reader has a described quirk. Please see additional masterlist warnings! Masterlist

The remainder of the week passes without consequence. This new information about your life doesn’t change anything, because even if you can see the same man on every news channel, you have nothing to discuss and your lives don’t overlap. 

Sitting by a couple of teenage girls at a train station and hearing them speculate about Uravity and Deku on your way to work the next day adds particularly to this sentiment. Their longstanding will they won’t they is only part of the reason why you’ve never made your feelings known. Uravity is perfect for him in every way, after all. You just wish they would hurry up and go public, hopefully even get married, so you can stop addressing the niggling feeling that perhaps, just perhaps, all these years you’ve made a mistake.

When you find your way into the clinic, Junko is wide-eyed and excited to hear everything you learned overnight, and you conveniently leave the part where in at least five universes except yours, not only are you not single, you’re romantically involved with Mr. Number One Pro Hero Deku himself. 

“Who knocked the first one up? I have to know.”

You eye the Deku bobblehead on her work desk you’d desensitized yourself to, and shrug, pretending you don’t know.

“Any add-ons today?” you ask instead, and disappear into the back room before she can ask you more questions. At least you know what you’d look like if you were pregnant.

—

Sorry I can’t make it tonight. Please let me know if you or Iida need anything.

Izuku’s voice to speech has a tendency to make him sound excessively formal, but it’s better than typing in a hurry and having to correct ten individual typos, cursed by clumsy, large hands. He’s rushing to the third out of five meetings today - the unwelcome side effect of being One to Watch (although he wonders at one point he’s simply There given how long it’s been) - and then he’s set for a patrol in a particularly dangerous neighborhood for the evening. He wishes he could trade it, but considering the point of the patrol was less to fight a specific enemy but to show a strong Hero presence, specifically his presence, he’s aware that it must be him.

Ochaco will understand. After all, he’s been with Ochaco at Iida’s bedside most days this week in the evenings given a recent injury, and even if Ochaco won’t say it, perhaps the two do need some time alone. They’d both been reluctant to reveal their affections for each other, given Ochaco’s history with him, but a part of Izuku’s soul understands that this arrangement was probably for the better anyway. While he loved Ochaco dearly, he’d always had the sense something was wrong about them, like momentum having him hurtling in the wrong direction. But there’s not much you can do when one of your best friends proclaims their love for you where everyone can see, and you’re just a high schooler with the weight of the world on your shoulders and then some, and there’s even less you can do when the person you’d long hoped would return your feelings seemed to be preoccupied with someone else.

Either way, years have passed and there are no hard feelings between the trio of friends, and Izuku particularly has simmered down on the prospect of love. 

Somewhat. 

Just minutes later, a reporter asks him for the third time this month if he and Uravity have considered working as a pair, and he smiles and nods before politely redirecting the question to praising her talent profusely. He understands easily why she’s reluctant to go public with Iida, and wishes desperately he wasn’t in her way.

Perhaps in another universe, if they had ended up loving each other, this aspect of the job would be easier - the media circus would have died out by now; they’d both be able to focus on doing what they chose to do with their lives, which is be Heroes and help as many people as possible.

They’d be able to live quietly.

The reporter then asks if he’s still in contact with most of the people he went to school with. This question takes him aback, and he blinks for a moment as he watches the young woman before him resettle in her seat, eyes hungry for information.

He runs through the list of everyone he’s known. He’s 28 now, and it’s been a decade since he’s graduated from high school. Most of the people he’s known he interfaces with on at least a weekly to monthly basis, save for a select few like Shoto, Katsuki, Iida and Ochaco that he sees almost daily. He admits he hasn’t seen Koda in a while, now that he lives in the forest similar to the Wild Wild Pussycats, nor Jirou who dedicated more of her life to music these days, and then his thoughts settle on you.

He knows what you’re up to, but he hasn’t spoken to you in over a year, despite remembering your last conversation at UA’s 10 year reunion. Brief - you were already slightly tipsy, and you smiled at him, but seemed disinterested in whatever he had to say, almost like you wanted to leave as soon as possible. He’d asked you how your clinic was going, and you’d laughed, the warmth of alcohol deepening the complexion in your cheeks, and said noncommittally, “it’s going,” before turning back to your friends. You’d once been so excited to tell him every thought running through your head, and you’d bounce off ideas for hours, discussing everything from Quirks to biology to society to your hopes and dreams, and after just a few years apart, he received next to nothing.

Leave her alone, Midoriya, is all that ran through his head, after that, and he politely bowed and left. 

“Yes, we all help each other out when needed!” he replies. It isn’t a lie. For every one of his classmates, even you. If you called him, he would come to your rescue. Anytime.

When the interview ends, he wishes for a moment that he had the courage to call. 

—

The last person you could have expected to call you, calls you on a Thursday afternoon, as you make your way out of work, and from his voice, you can tell he’s surprised you actually sought to answer the phone. 

“I… uh… wow. Hey.”

“Hey.”

Your cheeks warm, but it’s not love, it’s the nostalgia of several years coming back, and the fact that your high school boyfriend seems flustered to speak to you despite years of lost contact.

“You never changed your number,” Akira says, and you laugh. You can envision him easily, after all social media makes it such that no one truly becomes a stranger, and you know that he’s crinkled he has the same goofy smile on his face that helped you forget all that you’d been through in the Hero course, reminded you that there was more to life than self-sacrifice.

“You didn’t change yours,” you’re quick to reply.

“Touché.”

You can tell he’s grinning now, and it makes your heart light. You’re walking towards the train station and it’s a spring afternoon; you can see lovers hold hands as they walk past you, and you can’t remember the last time you’ve been on a date. 

And as if he knows how you feel, he asks you on one.

“The truth is you’ve been on my mind a lot recently.”

“Are you newly single?” you ask. It’s meant to be a playful jab, but you can tell he’s stung when he replies, “Newly isn’t the word for it, but yes, I am single.”

You blow air through your nose, but Akira is harmless. He makes his way around women easily with a silly sort of charm, and being easy on the eyes, but he’s not the type to break a woman’s heart. If anything, you were the one who broke his by ending things when you decided to focus on graduate school.

“Remember how I really liked enka?” 

Evenings in the dorm rooms laid side by side with shared headphones come to mind. 

“Yeah. Are you famous now?” you tease. He tuts at you, but adds,

“Come to my open mic night on Friday. I’ll buy you sashimi afterwards and we can go drinking.”

You think for a moment that in 5 separate universes, you’re in love with Izuku and maybe you should figure out what that’s about, but in this one, Izuku is nowhere to be found and perhaps it’s more important for you to hear your ex-boyfriend belt ballads and loosen up over sake and sake don.

You think for a moment, and then say, “Sure.”

—

There’s probably a social crime involved in inviting your friends to a date, and you can tell Akira’s a bit annoyed about it from the slight scrunch of his eyebrows when he watches you walk into the bar with two of your closest friends flanking your sides. He’s at the front already, and waves at you enthusiastically, and he’s every bit the cute boy from the support class who helped you with your pageant routine (you didn’t win that year, but you placed thanks to him), just sharper in the face, and with longer wavy dark hair.

You wave back, and your friends push you to the front and take their seats in the back. They’d also both gone to UA, and one was in the hero class with you, while the other was a year ahead, in the support class, and recognizes Akira, even if she hadn’t particularly approved of him in the past. She hadn’t exactly disliked him, but you could tell she was less warm when it came to him. Your other friend doesn’t seem to recognize him immediately, turning immediately to order the two of you drinks.

You slip into the open seat beside Akira and he offers you a drink and a rose. It’s cheesy but it makes you smile.

“I’m going to wow you, just so you know,” he promises as he makes his way on stage. You raise your eyebrow, as if to say ‘prove it’ while he skips onto the stage.

And he’s a hit, all flashing teeth and low notes, and you can feel your face warm every time he sings in your direction. He’s always had a beautiful voice, and easily flustered, you look down at your drink, heart thumping. 

And then, in a stroke of misfortune (to you), he slips your name into the song, and when you look up at him, he’s reaching a hand out towards you, bidding you to come on stage.

The very idea feels like hell to you. The rest of the bar’s patrons watch you and cheer and you glance at your friends, both of whom are waving their hands to push you on stage. When you look back at Akira, he’s still smiling, but you can feel the tinge of anxiety at the idea of you rejecting him in public. You wouldn’t, would you?

You can’t.

You slowly rise to take his hand, as people clap around you, but before you can take another step, before you can embarrass yourself in front of a room full of people, there’s a deafening sound that comes from your right side that practically stuns you, and shortly after, a forceful blast of air and shattered concrete follows and nearly knocks you off your feet.

The ringing of your ears mutes the abounding screams in the room. Your fortifying Quirk kicked in just in time, so you weren’t thrown that far, but bodies are strewn across the room. You don’t see Akira, and the right side of the room is practically cleared with tables and chairs tossed haphazardly and people scrambling for cover or already unconscious.

Adrenaline rushes through your veins, but you act first. You are a Hero after all, even if you’ve been out of the fray for years. A quick glance lets you know that your friends are already in action, trying to recover a few people thrown over the bar, and you attempt to push rubble off of you and start rescues.

Your Quirk activates again to fortify yourself as you begin to move, but a second, louder explosion occurs, one that does actually knock you off your feet, destroying part of the foundation of the building. The ceiling starts to cave in just above you - you’ve always had the best luck - and you’re too slow to move before it all comes crashing down.

You put yourself into a protective huddle, hopeful for your Quirk to minimize your damage, but never feel the pain of falling wreckage. 

“... Hi.”

Says Izuku Midoriya, hovering over you and shielding your body from harm with a piece of the ceiling held carefully in his hands. 

The love of your life in at least five universes and your current savior.

Your eyes meet and hold firmly.

“Hi, I-Izu.. Deku.”

Time seems to slow to a stop for a moment, then comes back up to pace when you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, your lungs suddenly burning in demand of oxygen. Izuku watches you carefully for a moment, really takes you in, even if you’re quick to thank him before looking around for someone else to save. You’re okay, just shaken; you’ve noticed him for a fleeting moment and now your attention is gone. You turn and scream your friend’s name, and he throws the large block of concrete to the side, remembering his job has only begun.

He’s happy he could do something for you, despite it all. There are more people to save, you remind him with your quick movements, the activation of your quirk to stabilize the first injured man’s bleeding as you crouch around him. He springs back into action - after all, he was meant to chase the culprits of those blasts, and can’t be sidetracked.

But this time, he has resolved to say more to you when the dust clears.

—

“Rampage, are you hurt? You did a good job back there.”

You can hear your Hero friend, code name Rampage, chat politely with Izuku as they both approach to where you’re huddled in a makeshift rehabilitation corner, a couple of people with the more severe injuries laid out on the ground, rolled up table cloths beneath their heads. No one is gravely injured more than you can heal with your Quirk, but you’ve exhausted enough of your body’s reserves that your head is starting to swim. She’s saying something playful about how Deku stole her thunder, when you turn to both of them and give a report, as Heroes are wont to do naturally.

When he comes over, you remind yourself to remain cordial but businesslike, despite your heart pounding hard in your chest. Nothing happened. Nothing changed. No clones or any lingering delusions can change that.

”I think we’ve accounted for everyone, right? These two -“ you gesture over to the people you’ve slightly sedated to reset a couple of broken limbs, “probably need to get to the hospital just so they have follow-up but it’s not urgent.”

Rampage nods, and Izuku pauses before doing the same. You remember now - the last time you interacted in this capacity was during the earliest parts of the war before things had gotten far out of your realm of ability and you were more helpful taking care of the sick and wounded. It feels like so long ago you’ve been active as a traditional Hero. Rampage on the other hand has kept in contact with Deku cursorily due to her familiarity with other Heroes of a similar level, particularly the noisy one named Dynamight, and while she and Deku are not exactly best friends, they get along well. He glances at her for reassurance before stepping forward to you.

“Thank you for helping out,” Izuku says with a reassuring smile. You try not to look at him when you reply, “Of course.”

In one universe, you have small children that look like some combination of the both of you. In this one, you can barely look each other in the eye.

There is a pause that lasts a little bit too long again, and you don’t notice the smile that forms on Rampage’s face as she steps backwards, hoping not to be noticed by either of you, but the moment dispels when Camilla, your Support friend, calls for all of your attention from across the destroyed hall. She looks absolutely ridiculous, enough that you stifle a laugh, with all manners of cutlery, jewelry, watches, phones, and anything metal, stuck to her from head to toe due to activation of her magnetic quirk.

”Anything you guys are missing?” She asks, stepping over rubble to meet you guys. You’re not sure how she can even see at this point with nearly every inch of her body covered. Close behind her is Akira, whose eyes widen once he spots you.

”You’re okay!” He exclaims running towards you. It’s almost theatrical, as if he hadn’t disappeared to preserve his own safety first, but he wraps you into a tight hug, as though you were long lost lovers. Next to you, Izuku stiffens for a split second, something Rampage and Camilla both notice, and Akira holds you at arms’ length, pretending he can’t see him.

Akira never liked Deku very much in high school.

”I’m so glad you’re okay, everything got so terrifying and…”

Your head is starting to pound, and Akira is gently pulling you away from the rest of the group, you notice, until Izuku speaks up.

”Hey, ___, you don’t look so good.” His voice is a little firmer, and he clears his throat. “Don’t move her so much, I think she needs to sit down.”

Akira flashes him a look that’s slightly poisonous, Camilla notices, then smiles to herself.

“Of course. I’ve just been agitated since our date got ruined, that’s all.” Akira stresses the word and Rampage rolls her eyes.

She never liked him either.

Izuku almost asks ‘what number?’ out loud then realizes it’s an insane question to ask of the thousands he could have reasonably asked. But he’s curious, you don’t seem like you’re particularly smitten enough by him as he tries to help lower you to a sitting position. 

The paramedics and other reinforcements are starting to fill in. Izuku keeps an eye on you as he coordinates with Rampage and the rest of the Heroes that now arrive to clean up wreckage and get everyone back in place. Akira’s rubbing your shoulders while you look dazed, too drained in the absence of your energy-conserving Hero suit to shrug him off, and it irks him. Somehow, in just seeing you again for this brief moment, he’s become a high schooler again, thinking of the right words to say, standing in front of your dorm room door before giving up and leaving. He’s seventeen again and watching you poorly conceal a bouquet of flowers he wishes he were the one to give you, avoiding cutting through the grass on the UA campus grounds even though it would get you back faster. He’s eighteen and wondering why even saving the world isn’t enough to make you look at him before you part ways into the adult world that opens before you, and admonishing himself for even having the selfish thought.

He’s shy little Izuku and he wishes you liked him back.

“Deku, do you have a moment to talk with us?” a cheery reporter says, thrusting a microphone in his face. They’re everywhere, he swears, prettier and more persistent every time. He’s polite again, flashing the practiced million-watt-smile.

And just like that he’s Deku, the hero once again.

—

Electrolyte water and rest does its magic, and as you make breakfast the next morning, you wonder if you should consider packing part of your suit with you, or at least perhaps just the gauntlets that you used back in high school. A modified version that is compact and can slip into your purse so that you never find yourself in a similar situation. You’re greeted the next morning by text by an apologetic Akira who promises you sushi another weekend, which you decide to reply to later, and texts from your friends who make sure that you’re okay, and an email notification for an incident report due in the next two weeks.

You sigh.

That’s why you don’t do Hero work.

Scooping eggs onto a slice of toast, you settle onto your couch, snuggling close with a body pillow and wishing your mind would stop racing for a moment. You don’t want to admit it, but all you can think about is Izuku and his stupid handsome face, and the way his mouth seemed to part every time you met each other's eyes, as if he has a million and one things to say to you but has to hold back. You wish he’d go make those cloying eyes at everyone lined up for his interest. There’s no real claim to him after all, at least not in this universe, regardless of what supposedly exists in the multiverse. You don’t even know if that’s real after all; it’s something that absolutely disrespects the laws of physics, but then again, you know many people whose Quirks do. Aizawa’s adopted daughter Eri is the first to come to mind. 

You should do some more research, you decide. 

After spending a couple hours on databases and online medical journals researching the existence of Quirks that can interact with the multiverse, you come up with nearly nothing, save for a case report of a person whose Quirk kept generating a wormhole for him that handed him whatever tool he needed (most often chopsticks for some reason). Groaning, you decide Kazuo is unique and either way you’ll see him again in 3 months, and reassess how he’s doing, possibly get a (better) case report out of it. You wonder if he’ll generate the same set of clones, or hopefully a new set of clones, ones who aren’t romantically entangled with Izuku Midoriya, ones more like you who never cared much for him at all, or at least knew, like you, to back off when they saw him standing on the edge of a cliff with the girl who was made for him.

Maybe if you look at the narratives your clones wrote to you, crumpled in a drawer in the corner of your desk, you’d find some flaws. Perhaps this was all a big trick the universe was playing on you, and feelings sitting in your subconscious, sleeping for practically a decade, are now flooding back with a vengeance. It must be the power of suggestion. You do not love him. You do not even particularly like or dislike him. You feel neutral. Neutral is good.

The narratives don’t help. What also doesn’t help is the fact that you’ve stored them in the same place as you keep all other sentimental material, including a diary you kept sparingly since you were a kid, in addition to letters from friends and family, and trinkets you’re afraid to lose. Curiosity has killed many cats and you, so you pore through it as well. Everything in that period of adolescence is amplified, and you went through war, so of course you remember a strong feeling of love that might not be real and should not be held on to.

The diary doesn’t help either. 

Of course, some entries are silly and whimsical like you’d expect from a young teen. Excerpts about friends, family, teachers that annoy you, celebrities you think are cute. You find remnants of an old crush on Suneater that must have been so short-lived you can’t remember it, and it surprises you. 

And then there’s your thoughts about Izuku, sparse but poignant. 

Oh yes, you were in love, and your entries end there. With war, with adulthood, with the life you have now.

[try-set-me-on-fire]

Bleeding through the bandages...oh hello what is this 👁️ 👁️

That’s a bad things happen prompt hehe it’s the vague buddie hockey au thats probably going to have very little hockey in it sdfghj homophobia/biphobia warning on this one! The concept: A few years ago Buck (a fantastic player who a lot of people had their eyes on) got drafted to [a made up Pennsylvania hockey team] and during the press tour accidentally came out as bi, which goes kind of disastrously. Lots of fan uproar and press nastiness, team management is unsupportive, and he ends up not playing a lot during his opening season and no one will say its because of that but its definitely because of that. He gets traded away as soon as they can to [made up LA hockey team] where he’s been working himself ragged (pushing through a gnarly leg injury his second year) to prove that he’s a good player worthy of being here in the NHL through all the scrutiny that’s still aimed at him from the old “scandal.”

Eddie played on a Texas team for awhile, got in trouble for fighting too much on the ice and realized he didn’t want to be that angry all the time so took an extended leave/basically retired, and when he decided he wanted to come back his team was like cool but we dont really want you anymore and traded him to LA.

Fic will be like… moody, vibey… Buck practicing before everyone shows up and after everyone leaves, blisters and callouses and intense blue eyes, and the team kind of closes ranks around him because they love their guy and have seen the shit that's been thrown at him over the years so Eddie has to prove he's trustworthy before he's let in. And Buck's so focused and cold on the ice but he's so good with Chris when he meets him, he's so warm with coach Bobby, the first time he smiles at Eddie it's breathtaking! And they work So good together on the ice, really it's no wonder Eddie falls in love! Eddie finally kissing him and Buck asking him if it's a joke, if he's going to run for the press, Eddie having to spend ages convincing him that it's real, and then another age convincing him that he wants it despite the circus Buck warns him his life could become (maybe Eddie saying something like "it's not even as big a deal as it used to be, isnt Tommy Kinard married now?" just to name another not straight hockey player but Buck's face gets all tight and Eddie's like ....Ah.) but they work it out sort of they're together as privately as they can possibly be it's fine it's going okay

and maybe Buck gets hurt and Eddie doesn't even think about throwing down his gloves and it doesn't feel like a set back at all because he's doing it for Buck.... And when Buck's back from Hen checking him out and Eddie's out of the penalty box they're both bleeding onto the ice but they make eye contact and know that now and always they'll be doing it together

[serickswrites]

Lonely Place of Longing XV.V (The missing chapter)

Master list link here (includes chapter links, summary, and character bios)

A/N: I took this chapter out because it made references to things I hadn't talked about in this story (but will in the prequel series!). And because I felt like it would have made the chapter after this one (and in the story's current iteration Chapter 16) less climactic--though it probably would have been pretty climactic with the cliff hanger in hindsight. It's a short one, so please enjoy. The final chapter will be out on its usual post day!

Warnings: physical violence, blood, knife, stabbing, wounds, referenced death, character death, mcd, unconsciousness, referenced heat injury

“You are sadly still so predictable,” Owen drawled as he grabbed for another knife from his bandolier of blades. He had slipped back into their native tongue. He had, Dylan realized, always spoken to Dylan in their mother tongue. Only when it was absolutely necessary did he use the language native to Patricanus.

And you haven’t changed either. “Does it matter? We both know how this ends, Owen. Give it up.” I will end you. I will rip you limb from limb. I will destroy you. You did this. You gave me no choice.

“Yes, it ends with me winning and imbuing your sweet paramour. Do you think she will be as monstrous as me? Or perhaps as monstrous as you?” Owen chuckled as he dodged another attack from Dylan.

Dylan and Owen continued to trade blows. Both weapons fought with their powers, Owen combining his attacks with his physical weapons. Their chests heaved as they panted. Neither had had a fight that required this much strength in nearly a decade. “Isn’t this lovely,” Owen said as he tossed a bent knife to the side before drawing another, “two of the most powerful beings in the world set to destroy one another.” He glanced over his shoulder at Halle. “Perhaps she will join our ranks soon.”

Hold on, sweetheart. I won’t let him hurt you. “Owen,” Dylan said as he raised his fist once more, “it doesn’t have to be this way. If you agree to stop, if you agree to come willingly—“

“You’ll what, kill me quickly? I’m not going to do that.” Owen released a large pulse of energy at Dylan. It missed Dylan by a wide margin, blasting a large hole in the wall behind him. Shouts of pain and alarm rang out.

Dylan gritted his teeth. His side pinched. He could feel blood leaking through his shirt and making his side slick. He didn’t dare check the wound. It doesn’t matter. It is minor. Minor pain. I have had worse. I need to stop him. I need to stop him from destroying everything. He knew he was burning through his vast reserve of energy. But most of all, Dylan hated the loss of innocent human life. “Do you care so little for your minions you would kill them to hurt me?”

Owen smirked. “Yes, wouldn’t you?” Owen sent another energy blast at the wall, vaporizing the scattering men. “That’s what they are for. They are weak. We are strong. We can destroy everything.”

“You cannot do this, Owen. You cannot destroy everything. Think of what we could rebuild. Think of all the lives we could save.” Please. Please don’t make me do this. I…I don’t want to. Dylan realized with a pang of guilt. As much as he hated what Owen had done, as much as he hated the destruction and waste of life, he didn’t hate Owen. And killing Owen would kill a part of him. Please, we were friends once. We can still be friends. Please, don’t make me kill you.

“I can. And I will. Because I can. And because I want to.” Owen lunged towards Dylan again, his knife flashing bright. Dylan easily dodged Owen’s attack once more, but realized his mistake when Owen charged towards Halle.

“No!” Dylan surged forward, realizing too late, this was exactly what Owen wanted. Owen stabbed the knife up and into Dylan’s gut, burying it to the hilt. Dylan tried to breathe through the pain as Owen rode his body to the ground.

“Like I said, Dylan,” Owen ripped the knife up and through Dylan’s body until he hit bone. Dylan gasped through the pain, “so predictable.”

“Owen,” Dylan hissed as he felt Owen rip the knife from his gut. “Owen, please,” he said. “Owen, ahh—“ Dylan cried out as Owen shoved his hand into the wound. His world whited out with pain as Owen wormed his fingers into the wound on his side.

“There, that’s it. Yes, you are where I always planned for you to be, Dylan.” Owen’s face was inches from Dylan’s. “I have been waiting for this moment.”

“Owen, I’m sorry,” Dylan whispered. I cannot let you do this. I cannot let you win. If you win, the world burns. If you win, she dies. I cannot let that happen.

Owen froze. “What are you sorry for? Wounding me?” Owen wriggled his fingers deeper into the wound. Dylan cried out with pain. “What’s the best way and only surefire way to kill a weapon?”

Dylan gritted his teeth. I don’t want to do this. But you are leaving me no choice. Please, Owen. “Owen—“

“That’s right, you destroy the heart. A head shot will probably kill them, but not always. But the heart? The heart is the only way. I’m going to rip your heart apart, Dylan. And then I’m going to wake up your love so she can see your corpse as I turn her.” Owen twisted his arm, shoving it further into Dylan’s body. “I’ll reach your heart either through your belly or through your side. It doesn’t matter. I will have your heart. I will win.”

Destroy their heart. This is the only way. I’m sorry, Owen. I’m sorry this is what it came to. You left me no choice. “Killing me won’t bring them, any of them back. Killing me won’t bring her back.”

Owen froze. Dylan continued. “Killing me won’t change what happened. Killing me won’t bring—“

“You don’t get to say her name. You don’t get to say anything about any of them. And yes, killing you won’t bring them back. But it will make me happier.”

Dylan closed his eyes tight against the sting of tears. I am sorry. I am so sorry. I tried. You left me no other way. I would have found another way. You left me no choice, Owen. Dylan raised his shaking left hand to touch Owen’s chest as Owen tried to dig further and further, searching for Dylan’s heart. He didn’t even notice when Dylan touched his shredded shirt. “I am sorry,” Dylan whispered as he unleashed his power. “I am truly sorry, Owen,” he said to the red mist that filled the air.

You’re free now. Free from pain. Free from all of this. Free from suffering. I am sorry. Fare well, my friend. May the next life treat you better.

Dylan lay in the growing pool of blood for a moment longer, slowly trying to take stock of his injuries. He had worse pain. But he knew it had to be bad. It didn’t matter. He had to get to Halle. Sweetheart. I’m coming. Hold on. I love you. I love you. I love you.

With a stifled howl of pain, Dylan rolled onto his uninjured side and slowly tried to stand up. He pressed his hand to his gut as he rose on shaking legs, gasping with pain as every muscle protested the movement. He couldn’t stop. He had to keep going. He took two tentative steps on shaking legs. Good enough. I can get us out of here. I’m coming, sweetheart. Hold on.

Halle lay where she had fallen after her head struck the wall. She hadn’t moved during his entire fight with Owen. Please, be ok. You have to be ok. Dylan stumbled over to Halle, collapsing to his knees, relieved to see she was alive.

“Sweetheart, I’ve got you,” Dylan said as he braced himself. Carefully Dylan lifted her, stumbling slightly as he tried to get his balance. Though Halle was petite, he struggled to carry her. He knew his wounds were much worse than he initially thought as he struggled to balance. “I’ll get us to the team. They’ll look after you. Just hold on.”

Halle hung limply in his arms, her limbs swaying with his staggering. The room spun around him. No. Just a bit farther. Just a bit longer. Dylan refused to give up, refused to let his body give out. She needs help. I have to get her to help. Hold on, sweetheart. I have you. I love you. I love you. I love you.

Dylan only managed to get a few steps before his legs gave out completely. He didn't have the energy to get back up, to carry her and go forward. “Oh,” he sighed. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Halle. I can’t. You’re going to have to walk out of here. I….I can’t carry you. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry. I…Please wake up soon. Please be ok.”

He held Halle tightly in his arms. He rubbed gentle circles on her back. Dark spots flecked his vision. He shook his head. Come on, sweetheart. You have to be ok. I am alive because you are alive.You have to be alive. I love you. I love you. I love you.

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[kanekoii]

mechatu-a being your boyfriend <3

mika’s notes -> i love niji jp sm y’all don’t even know and this group has most of my oshis too-

pairings -> saiki ittetsu, akagi wen, usami rito, hibachi mana, hoshirube shou, murakumo kagetsu, koyanagi rou, inami rai x gn! reader (all seperate)

genre -> scenario, fluff

song -> perfect hero - mechatu-a (cover)

warnings -> canonical hero stuff, i love these fellas!!, they’re all simps lmao

SAIKI ITTETSU ->

when i say he’s naturally a loud person i mean it. of course, he still has your best interests at heart during his more chaotic moments. given his somewhat intimidating exterior, it was a little surprising to learn that he was a hero after all. if anything, he’s the anti-hero the group needs to ensure some unruly people are put in their place with his deep and intimidating voice. yet behind closed doors, he’s such a sweetheart! always sharing his food with you and gladly sitting down with you just to chat on the longer work days. being a hero isn’t just beating up bad guys after all! there’s also a decent amount of celebrity work that goes into it, so please allow him to take time out of his schedule to love and pay attention to you, because nothing could make him happier.

AKAGI WEN ->

unlike ittetsu, he doesn’t wait until he’s behind closed doors to be a total sweetheart to his beloved partner. he’s always cooking meals for you, and he’ll be absolutely over the moon if you offer to help. if you’re okay with your relationship with this cheery hero, he will talk about you constantly in interviews and such! wen just wants the whole world to know he loves you to the moon and back! ultimately, he wouldn’t trade his relationship with you for the whole world. he’ll come home to you late at night sometimes with a plushie and a dessert for you as a sort of apology for possibly worrying you, seeing as he was out so late. absolute and total soft little sweetheart boyfriend who just wants to make you happy so please reassure him sometimes and do something for him in return!

USAMI RITO ->

this foodie hero’s love language is absolutely sharing his snacks with you. seeing as he often treats food as if it’s the only thing in the world that matters, it’s a real honor that he’s willing to share with you! he’s a bit of the chaotic dad of the group, so if you date him, you’d likely end up taking on a caretaker role to the other heroes too. he’s very cheesy with his shows of affection, it’s his way of saying he doesn’t care what others think and that even if he’s technically a public figure, you’re the only one he wants in the whole world. his ideal date would likely be bringing your favorite snacks home with him and watching movies while he cuddles with you! like the others, he’s a total softie even if his job as a hero doesn’t necessarily favor that due to questionable moral situations he may be put in. he’s not as upfront about his relationship with you, but he mentions it offhandedly every once in a while to remind people that he loves you oh so much.

HIBACHI MANA ->

your relationship with him most definitely started as friends and slowly evolved into something more, mostly without either of you noticing. most definitely a friends to lovers situation, because he had been your best friend since childhood. this hero has always been a very sweet and kind person, but especially towards you. his love for you most definitely would stand the rest of time as he continued his hero work. despite stress and injury, you were always there for him no matter what. it really made mana have a new appreciation for your relationship when you would drop everything to comfort him. he knows his job isn’t the most favorable for romantic relationships, but the fact that you stay with him despite that just makes his heart flutter when he thinks about it.

HOSHIRUBE SHOU ->

seeing as he’s much more of a quiet type, it was surprising he even allowed his feelings for you to be heard in the first place. especially considering how shy and quiet he is, having someone he loves as much as you is a blessing. he knows he's not the best with expressing affection verbally, but he makes up for it by always holding your hand or hugging or kissing you. in a way, it's easier to express than saying he loves you. of course, that doesn't mean shou doesn't love you with all his heart. the first time he audibly says the words "i love you", his face is covered in blush. he hides it behind his purple and blue hair, voice shaking slightly out of nervousness. he still blushes when you take the initiative and kiss him first, even if you’ve kissed hundreds of times. showing affection in public makes him very flustered, but he still holds your hand in front of other people just to show everyone that he loves you!

MURAKUMO KAGETSU ->

simply put, you’re everything to this ninja hero. he’s much more private about his relationship so many people wouldn’t even know he had a significant other aside from his closest friends. he reassures you constantly that he isn’t ashamed or anything of the like, just that it might cause danger for you due to the relatively risky nature of his work as a hero. ultimately, it’s just to keep you safe. as soon as he’s certain of your safety, he’ll be parading you about and talking about you every single chance he gets just to show the world how much he adores you. there’s a picture of you and him together in his phone case as a sort of motivator when his hero work has him down, cuz if nothing else, he has you to come home to every day. he has you to hug and kiss and pour all his love into at the end of every day. coming through the door to your shared home and seeing you is his absolute favorite thing in the world. especially if kagetsu is home especially late and sees you sleeping on the couch waiting for him, his heart just melts on the spot.

KOYANAGI ROU ->

most definitely a more condescending type who teases you over the smallest things sometimes. he can’t help it, it’s just his love language! rou isn’t really the best with being super affectionate, so please understand that him teasing you is how he shows he loves you. of course, he occasionally shows more traditional signs of love and affection such as buying you gifts or cuddling with you, but he just isn’t that affectionate of a person. please don’t let it get you down or make it think he doesn’t love you, because he really warms up to the idea of being affectionate after dating you for a while. behind closed doors at least, he’ll be wrapped around you all day and night commenting on how cute you are and how he just loves you so so much! he would never let his friends or fellow heroes see him in such a state though, they would never let him hear the end of it and he’s the one who teases other people, not the other way around! once in a blue moon, his friends will see him kiss your cheek or forehead though, and just as expected, he will never hear the end of it.

INAMI RAI ->

the mechanic prefers just having you by his side as he works on his newest invention or tinkers with his fellow hero’s gear to hopefully improve it. just sitting and chatting with you while he tinkers with things is his favorite pastime because he gets to mess with mechanical things and talk to his beloved!! he has a bunch of pictures of you at his work station as well as in his phone case just like kagetsu! his fellow heroes end up getting pretty annoyed with the way rai won’t shut up about you, but he thinks of you so highly that he could barely even convey how much he loves you in words. doesn’t mean he doesn’t try tho, cuz he does…he talks for hours just about how much he loves you. at first, he was scared to ask you out and rou had to put him up to it. both of them were absolutely taken aback when you actually agreed to go out with rai, and ESPECIALLY when you started seeing him regularly and made your relationship official.

[cosmerelists]

The Most SHOCKING Moment in Every Cosmere Novel

[Spoilers! Spoilers for Everything!]

In this list, I will talk about what I thought was the most shocking moment in every Cosmere novel, in publication order. I tried to be fairly vague in the entry titles so that you could potentially skip around to just the books you've read, but please know that this list is just ridiculously laden with spoilers.

1. Elantris: The Head Injury

So this one is shocking in terms of gruesomeness rather than surprise. For me, the most shocking moment in this book was when Raoden tried to feed the small, "dead" child...and then some other men came along and literally beat the child's head in. This being Elantris, the kid wasn't actually dead, but just suffering horribly forever. The scene HAUNTS me.

2. Mistborn: That One Death

I mean, what could I pick for this particular novel other than the shocking death of a main character. I was NOT expecting Kelsier to actually die...and yes, I know, he's still an active character but it's not like he didn't die. He did! Main character--killed off in Book 1 of a trilogy! I didn't see that coming.

3. Well of Ascension: It's Better To Be Selfish, Actually

Faced with choice of whether to take up supreme power to save the love of her life or let Elend die to save the world, Vin made the heroic choice and let the power go. And that was...the wrong answer?? I did not see THAT coming. Like, "letting the power go" meant releasing Ruin, whereas taking the power for herself would have contained it. So for once, it would have been better to take the selfish road rather than going for the heroic sacrifice.

4. Hero of Ages: The Atium Solution

To be fair, the end of Hero of Ages is pretty much just one shocking moment followed by another, especially with the chain of ascensions and deaths. So this may be controversial, but for me, it was the solution of just eating all the atium that surprised me the most. Like, I think I was braced for everyone to die because the book just had that vibe, but I never expected a group of people to just sit there and chow down on all of the atium until it was all gone to keep it from Ruin.

5. Warbreaker: Villain Reveal

Specifically, for me it was Denth & Tonk Fah that really got to me. They were so likable! Until they weren't. There was also Bluefingers for that matter, whom I had also liked up until it was suddenly Human Sacrifice Time. Honestly, Warbreaker did do a pretty good job of obviating who the bad guys were and what was actually going on.

6. Stormlight Archive: Way of Kings: The Trade

There were plenty of shocking moments in this book, to be fair. I could have chosen the whole Sadeas betrayal. The reveal that Jasnah's soulcaster was fake. Elhokar being his own assassin. But I think for me, it was the moment that Dalinar traded his shardblade for the bridgemen. Sanderson had done SUCH a good job of building up the shardblades as, like, the ultimate item of priceless value, the sort of thing that everyone wanted and no one (other than Kaladin) would give up. So when Dalinar gave his shardblade to Sadeas of all people to save the bridgemen, I was legitimately shocked.

7. Mistborn: The Alloy of Law: What Was Lost

Honestly, I was shocked right out of the gate by the fact that there wereren't any mistborn anymore and the atium was gone. Those had been such staples of the original trilogy!

8. Stormlight Archive: Words of Radiance: That One Death

Again, there's always plenty of shockers in a Stormlight book, but in terms of open-mouthed, did-not-see-that-coming reactions from me, it was Adolin stabbing Sadeas to death. Like, what? I had assumed Sadeas was going to be the recurring big bad, and I also didn't think that little scene was going to end in just a quiet back-alley stabbing.

9. Mistborn: Shadows of Self: That Villain Reveal

Anyone else noticing a pattern? Anyway, I was definitely shocked by the Bleeder-is-Lessie reveal in this. Very deeply shocked! Again, I thought it was just one of those classic the-shapeshifter-takes-on-the-form-of-your-loved-ones-so-you-won't-be-able-to-hurt-them moments but, uh, what a devastating deconstruction of the trope that was!

10. Mistborn: The Bands of Mourning: The Spikes

So again, this one may just be me. But I was just really shocked when MeLaan lost her spikes and dissolved. I know there was a villain reveal and the shocking location of the Bands of Mourning and the whole "there's another continent" thing but somehow it was MeLaan dissolving that really got me.

11. Stormlight Archive: Oathbringer: What Wasn't Said

Listen, I thought I knew the pattern. Put Kaladin into a dire enough situation, he'll say some new oaths and fly to everyone's rescue while glowing. So when the situation got real dire, and it looked like our heroes were all doomed, and Kaladin got ready to say his next oaths...and then he didn't? He didn't say them? He couldn't? I was really shocked!

12. Rhythm of War: The Experiments (Not the ones you're thinking of)

I don't know man, what really got me were those super gross spren experiments Ishar was doing with the embodied spren. The whole mass-of-tentacle-head for the cryptic spren was especially horrifying, not to mention vivisection is just intrinsically shocking for me. It's all heads, villains, and deaths for me, huh? (And listen, I read this before I read any Mistborn, so the Thaidakar reveal was TOTALLY lost on me.)

13. Mistborn: The Lost Metal: The Meat Grinder

The big death in this one was spoiled for me, so unfortunately, I wasn't shocked. Also, I'm not sure I would have been shocked just because I was expecting either Wax or Wayne to die. What did shock me was the meat grinder hotel scene, when Wax killed his way to the top floor of that building (was it even a hotel? That's what it is in my head) and just slaughtered everyone on the way.

13. Tress of the Emerald Sea: The Dragon Scene

I was not shocked by the Huck reveal; I'm proud to say I figured that out for myself (woo-hoo!). But I didn't think Tress would get out of the whole being-traded-to-a-dragon thing but trading the person who was supposed to be trading her.

14. Yumi and the Nightmare Painter: The Non-Solution

This one is almost certainly going to just be me. But listen. There is a part of the book where Painter & Yumi are trying to figure out how their separate lives are connected and I don't quite remember why, but I distinctly remember the moment I thought, "Ah ha! It's time travel!" And then. The next sentence. The very next fucking sentence was Design saying, "Well, it's definitely not time travel." And my shock was partly Sanderson reading my mind, and partly that my idea was shot down so quickly!

15. The Sunlit Man: The Fucking Name

I was eagerly reading this book in my office, and when Sigzil was given his new name, I just quietly set my phone down and stared into the distance for like an entire minute, unmoving, unthinking.

This may be the greatest shock in the whole Cosmere, for me.

[rise-my-angel]

Heres the rub: Mirri Maz Duuri is not responsible for what happened to Drogo or Rhaego. She was very clear that Drogo was going to die from his wounds. She gave specific instructions which Drogo didn't listen to, and the result is naturally his wound getting infected passed the point of curing. Drogo was already going to die, so nothing that happens to him is Mirris fault.

Rhaego though, I contest the idea that Mirri did anything to him to intentionally and maliciously kill a child. Clearly Mirri understood that Rhaego would be the price for Drogo, but first, that is Danys fault for asking absolutely no more questions on the matter once Mirri clarified it would not be Danys life as the price. As soon as she learned she was not to die, she clearly considered any other life not worthy of question. Mirri distinctly warns her multiple times of the danger and price of the blood magic she is demanding Mirri perform, but does not ask her to clarify what any of those warnings mean beyond her own life.

But here's the thing, when Mirri tells Dany what Rhaego looked like when he was born, this is not the first time a Targaryean woman has given birth to a highly deformed stillborn. Rhaenyra was said to have given birth to an equally as deformed child, and while some of this can be chalked up as exaggerations, history also tells us that real life babies born from massive degrees of inbreeding were born with highly unusual deformities.

Rhaego might have been alive inside Dany but that does not mean that he would've gone on to be a viable live birth, or even really go on to survive infancy.

So if the dying Drogos life is traded for the barley alive Rhaego, it explains why neither life really made it. The situations would have ended up the same if Dany never ordered Mirri to perform the spell. Drogo would die from injuries and Dany would've go on to birth a highly deformed, barley alive Rhaego who likely wouldn't have survived due to the extreme nature of his birth defects.

Targaryean women have a very concerning track record of fertility issues. Danys own mother suffered 8 miscarriages and stillbirths before having a living child and then died giving birth to her next. Fertility and stillbirth is a rampant issue amongst these women due to the abhorrent effects of generational inbreeding.

Drogo was always going to die from his injuries, and Rhaego was never going to survive being born from a mother with such damaged genetics.

But because Dany ordered her to do this, she can claim it was Mirri who caused this.

"When your womb quickens again and you bear a living child. Then he will return, and not before."

Isn't some prophetic vision or warning or confession. Its Mirri telling Dany that Drogo will never be as he once was, because it is as possible as Dany giving birth to a living child. It's her saying that Mirri cannot promise he will come back because she cannot promise the impossible.

Even if Mirri did all of this on purpose, which we do not know because Dany burns her alive before finding out with any true certainty, it doesn't matter.

Drogo and Rhaego were never going to survive anyways. But Mirri gets blamed, because we are fooled into thinking Danys pov is her being a reliable narrator, and she tells us Mirri is to blame and then burns her alive before the audience has a chance to question that position.

Mirri isn't a child murderer. The effects of rampant incestual inbreedings on hereditary genetics is Rhaegos killer.