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multifandomimagin3s · 2 years ago

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Mercenary! Reader - 141, Los Vaqueros + Konig

So I recently rewatched Deadpool, and I was thinking about what the boys reactions would be to finding out that (r/n) is a mercenary - gave them a little bit of Wade's personality too~

Mentions of violence, strong language, little bit of angst if you squint.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Oh, he definitely doesn't trust you.

He's impressed by your skills on the battlefield, and knows that you're very good at what you do - otherwise you wouldn't be a mercenary - but he absolutely wouldn't turn his back on you.

Price would have probably already told 141 about you, but even if he hadn't he probably would have put two and two together on his own.

Doesn't judge you...much - he's done some pretty fucked up things, it comes with his line of work, but being a mercenary is on another level.

Your sense of humour piques his interest, his humour is dark at the best of times so the fact that you can match his dark comments with some of your own is fine by him.

Don't get it twisted though, if he thinks that you're trying to double-cross his team, he wouldn't hesitate to kill you.

If you were recruited to help 141 on a mission, it would probably mean that the mission was going to be hell on Earth; I can see Shepard hiring you - his intentions were probably never disclosed to you, which makes you trust him less and less.

Given that you're not part of the British Army, your clothing and gear probably wouldn't be similar at all; picture the suits from Black Widow, because Yelena is a goddess~

He definitely hasn't secretly admired your arse when you're not looking - Soap definitely caught him once and was given a glare as a warning to keep his mouth shut.

You'd have to prove yourself to him before he lets himself feel any of the feelings of attraction he has for you - mans has a lot of past trauma that he doesn't want repeated, so until he knows that you're trustworthy, he's going to be cold and calculative as always.

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

While he may be a generally friendly guy, Johnny is far from stupid; he'll make small-talk with you in the beginning, but knows not to let his guard down - no matter how much your sense of humour makes him chuckle.

Watches you take down 4 soldiers almost twice your size with ease, and almost pops a boner.

If you're anything like Wade, he's a bit of an over-sharer; when you tell him about parts of your past that led to you becoming a mercenary - some parts which may have been slightly traumatic and concerning to hear - with a smile on your face, he's a bit worried for you.

Definitely flirts with you on the regular - Ghost just gives him a blank stare, wondering why Soap likes to gamble with his life since the team barely even know you.

Once you prove that you're trustworthy, he opens up to you more; we've seen how he acts with Ghost, undeterred by the big guy's cold exterior.

He asks to train with you - doesn't mind being thrown to the mats a hundred times over, "I don't mind the view from doon here, like ;D" [doon = down], "Aye, I knew you'd look great on top a' me"

Asks to try out your weapons - some are not too different from his own, while some are quite clearly black-market issue.

All in all, Soap's an easy-going guy - so as long as you don't try to kill him or anyone he cares about, you're golden.

Captain John Price

Another one who doesn't trust you at all.

He's been in the military for a long time, and he's encountered mercenaries from across the globe - most of them weren't the friendly type, especially when they were after the same target.

He's definitely angry when Shepard tells him that you'll be accompanying his team on the next mission; he's offended, for one, as it makes it seem as if his team are incompetent or not skilled enough to go it alone.

Doesn't take his eyes off you for a second - in his eyes, you're not a soldier, you don't abide by legalities and you essentially kill for money so you might as well be a fully-fledged assassin.

Doesn't bat an eyelid at your humour either, and doesn't let his guard down.

Your fighting skills are undeniable - you're very good at what you do, and you're clearly very intelligent, but don't mistake this for respect.

You probably don't show your face at all - revealing your identity would probably incriminate yourself and put yourself and anyone around you in danger; this doesn't phase him, but it makes it harder for him to trust you.

For Price to trust you would take a hell of a lot of work; you'd have to prove yourself, not just in the field but from a moral standpoint too.

If you do manage to prove yourself to him, then he might gradually start to see you in a different light.

Soap may or may not have caught him eyeing you up appreciatively - but a stern look from his Captain shut him up immediately.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

I can see Gaz keeping out of your way as much as possible.

Out of everyone in 141, he's the youngest and hasn't been in the military for very long either, so he hasn't encountered mercenaries before.

That being said, he knows what a mercenary is and knows that Price doesn't trust you at all - the fact you were hired by Shepard is questionable in itself, so he keeps his interactions with you to a minimum.

Doesn't know what to make of your humour - sometimes your comedic timing and the things you come out with are quite funny, he can't deny that. But other times, you come out with some twisted shit that makes him wonder about your mental state.

He's naturally curious at to how you went from being a soldier to a mercenary - he doesn't have to ponder for long, sometimes you'd just openly remark about things that happened in your past and he was able to figure it out on his own.

He'd never admit it out loud but watching you rile up Ghost with your sarcastic comments and dark humour was entertaining - even if he did fear for your safety when the hulking soldier was due to blow a gasket.

If you showed him your face, he would be pleasantly surprised - Price definitely gives him the disapproving Dad face whenever he catches Kyle oggling you after that.

Alejandro Vargas

*I used google translate for both Alej, Rudy and Konig so if the translations are wrong I apologise*

Oof, he is angry.

We saw how he reacted with Valeria, he doesn't like soldiers who turn their back on morality for money.

He doesn't even attempt to hide his distaste for you.

"Eres un maldito traidor y un asesino." ["You are a fucking traitor and a murderer."]

Finds out you're working with 141 and he's just >:(

"¡¿Por qué diablos están aquí?!" ["Why the fuck are they here?!"]

Warns you that if you betray the team - his friends - that he'd be coming for you, and he would kill you without hesitation.

Your dark humour would probably rub him the wrong way, further solidifying his perception that you were a soldier who walked down a path that you couldn't come back from, "No tienes verguenza?" ["Do you have no shame?"]

I think that even if you did prove yourself, he still wouldn't fully trust you - it would take years for him to look you in the eye with a modicum of respect.

If he sees you getting along well with 141, it might slightly make him think differently of you - especially if Ghost seems to be okay with you being around them.

But it would take him a while to see you as anything other than a killer; "No eres malo, pero recuerda, traicionarnos y estarás muerto antes de que puedas correr." ["You're not bad but remember, betray us and you'll be dead before you can run."

Rudy Parra

Rudy's naturally quite a quiet guy, so I doubt he'd say much to you anyway.

However, this silence doesn't mean acceptance.

He keeps a close eye on you, analysing every move you make.

Would probably ask for your opinion on things when you're on a mission; it's partially out of curiosity, a way to see how your mind works, and other parts to air on the edge of caution because your sense of humour consisted of coming out with some crazy shit.

I reckon if he did trust you, he'd still be very cautious and aware of what you were and what you were capable of; after seeing you take down soldiers like it was nothing, he's inwardly grateful that you were fighting on the same side...for now.

If you let your guard down and told him about aspects of your personal life, it might change his mind a bit - it shows that you're human, you have a life outside all of this...but that being said, he's never seen your face, so you could walk past him in the grocery store and he would never know. It's unnerving.

If you do trust him enough to show your face, he's conflicted; "No te ves como esperaba que te vieras." ["You don't look how I expected you to look.] You look perfectly normal, minus the black paint around your eyes - pretty, even.

Alejandro doesn't like you one bit from the jump, and is constantly hovering around you both like >:(

It'll take a while for Rudy to trust you, but rest assured if you were to break his trust, it wouldn't end well at all - he's a Sergeant Major, and don't let his quiet nature fool you, he too is capable of doing damage.

König

The big guy is unphased - he's a mercenary too, so if he were to judge you then that would make him the biggest hypocrite of all.

Nonetheless, he doesn't trust you either - if you're not from KorTac, and he doesn't know who you are, then he's not letting his guard down at all.

Your sense of humour could go one of two ways with him:

If he's out on the field, and you're making dark jokes and sarcastic comments, then he'll probably laugh and join in; he's a completely different man when he's working, it's what makes him so good at what he does.

But if he's back on base...he's probably going to be a little awkward - the adrenaline's worn off and he's back to being his normal, shy self.

Wants to train with you but is hyperaware of his size and strength - he's seen you take down soldiers his size, but he's still concerned that he'd seriously hurt you.

Pin him to the mat and watch as his eyes widen and he averts his gaze, cheeks heating up under his mask; "Du kämpfst gut." ["You fight well."

There's a slim possibility that he would show you his face - you made the mistake of teasing him and he almost backed out, "Show me yours' and I'll show you mine~"

If you show him your face, he won't be able to look at you the same; how is he supposed to focus now when he knows you're attractive?!

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sunsets-and-crows · 30 days ago

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I Wanna Be Yours - Chapter 1

Pairing: Sylus X Reader

Words: 4.8K

- - -

Tasked with infiltrating the life of Sylus, the most wanted man in the N109 zone, you're torn between what is right and feels right, blurring the line between duty and desire. As danger escalates, you must decide whether to carry out your mission or succumb to the magnetic pull of the man you're meant to destroy. In this game of power and obsession, betrayal could cost you everything.

Content warnings ⚠️

Dark Themes, Yandere! Reader and Yandere! Sylus! Power play. Violence and Gore. Smut (in later chapters). Stalking/surveillance. Reader slowly losing her mind maybe. Sylus being hot and a menace.

If you feel there’s any other warnings I need to add then please reach out and let me know!

You’d woken up early- too early. Anticipation buzzed in your veins leaving your mind reeling and falling back asleep impossible. The entire team had felt it. Something big was in the works.

Captain Jenna had pulled you aside before you left work the night before. “Y/N, come and see me first thing tomorrow morning. I’ve got new mission details to discuss.” Her tone was commanding. This wasn’t a favour—it was an order, and orders like these, given late at night with no one around, usually meant trouble.

So you’d woken up early, made some breakfast, and finished your morning workout, all before the sun had even risen. You were absolutely going to regret this later when you were struggling to stay awake at your desk.

The dim glow of the tactical display flickered across the room, casting shadows along the walls. You sat across from Captain Jenna, her eyes sharp and assessing as usual, the weight of authority resting heavily on her shoulders. This wasn’t your first mission briefing, but something about this one felt different- heavier- more dangerous.

Jenna leaned back in her chair, a small datapad in her hand, swiping through it with deliberate motions. "The N109 zone," she began, not looking up.”What do you know about it?”

“Ermm, not much. I’ve heard rumours, of course and read about it but I’ve not had any first-hand experience,” You replied, confused by the line of questioning.

Jenna continued, "It’s a place where most don’t survive long, especially outsiders. You’ve been recommended for a mission there, but I need to know you understand what you’re walking into."

Your fingers twitched in your lap. "I’ve read the reports. I think I understand how it all works out there."

"Reports don’t do it justice." Her voice was clipped, leaving no room for debate. She tapped a button on the pad, and a holographic image of the N109 zone projected into the air between you. The image showed sprawling clusters of decrepit structures and seedy underground hubs. It looked almost abandoned but you knew from the reports that the N109 zone was far from empty. "The N109 zone is a black market for mercenaries, smugglers, and all types of criminals. At the centre of it all, is one man, controlling the whole thing. The N109 zone’s very own king, Sylus Qin."

Your stomach tightened at the mention of his name. Everyone in the association knew of Sylus, but few had seen him in person. His reputation preceded him: cold, ruthless, and always five steps ahead of his enemies. He’d been the reason for countless operations that turned south and why some hunters categorically refused to even enter the N109 zone.

Captain Jenna finally looked up from her pad, her gaze calculating. “The higher-ups have requested that you take on the mission to bring him to justice- finally. I personally recommended you for the job and my petition was accepted.”

Sylus, the most dangerous and infamous criminal in the N109 zone, known for being a manipulative and ruthless leader. And you were meant to capture him. The shock was clear on your face.

Jenna switched off the projection and fixed you with a steely gaze. "This is a high-stakes operation. The Hunter’s Association has been trying to bring Sylus in for years, but he’s too careful. He doesn’t make mistakes. He keeps his allies close and his enemies firmly in check. No one’s managed to get near him. We need you to do what others couldn’t- get close, make him trust you enough to come willingly." She pauses, letting the weight of her words settle. "And then, you will bring him to us. Quietly."

You blinked, the enormity of the task settling like a lead weight in your chest. "And then what? We arrest him?"

"Exactly. Once you have his trust, you’ll lead him to the extraction point, where other hunters will take over. Sylus has committed too many atrocities- smuggling, trafficking, assassinations. He needs to face justice. But if he even suspects for a second that you’re a threat, this mission will end in your death. Sylus doesn’t forgive betrayal."

A cold knot of apprehension twisted in your gut. "I’ve never operated in the N109 zone before. I know what people say about it…"

Jenna tapped the table, cutting through your uncertainty with her no-nonsense tone. "You were selected because of your history. You’re adaptable. You’ve been at the HA for a long time, and never failed in a covert mission and that’s been noticed. But understand this, this isn’t just about gathering intel, it’s about infiltrating his inner circle, making him believe he can trust you."

Her words hung heavy in the air, each one pressing against your already fraying nerves. "He’s known for reading people. How am I supposed to fool him?"

Jenna didn’t smile, but her eyes softened- just a touch. "You’ll have to earn his trust, slowly. Get into his good graces by being useful. You’ve got…skills he needs. Play into that. But be warned…" She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a quiet, ominous tone. "Sylus is like no one you’ve faced before. He’s calculated, ruthless. If you slip up, even for a second, he’ll see through you. Use your wits… and if needed, your feminine wile” She trailed off, the insinuation heavy in the air.

A chill ran down your spine. You’ve heard the stories—how Sylus has taken down entire syndicates without lifting a finger, how he can dismantle a person with just his words, let alone the brutal efficiency with which he handles his enemies. The thought of trying to seduce him was almost laughable—and terrifying.

"And the Association is sure this will work?" you asked, your voice a little thinner than you intended.

Jenna narrowed her gaze, her lips pressed into a hard line. "No. But it’s the best chance we’ve got. The truth is, Sylus is too dangerous to let his network grow any further. The higher-ups have made it clear—they’d prefer him alive. Alive and arrested. If you succeed, this will be the biggest takedown in recent history. You’d be rewarded of course.” Her implication is clear, the promotion you'd been after for years.

You nodded, though your mind swirled with doubt. "And if I fail?"

"You won’t." The steel in her voice was unyielding. "Failure isn’t an option. Sylus doesn’t give second chances, and neither do we. We’ll provide your equipment and, when the time is right, we have an alias waiting for you"

The silence that followed is suffocating, the gravity of the mission pressing down on you. For a moment, you questioned whether you were truly ready for this—whether anyone could be. But then the adrenaline kicked in, and stirred something inside you - a challenge.

"I understand." You managed to say, your voice firmer than before.

Jenna stood, motioning toward the door, her expression softening just a fraction. "Your mission begins tomorrow. Prepare yourself. You’ll be alone in the field, and once you’re in his world, there’s no turning back."

You rose from your chair, nerves and determination churning inside you. "I’ll bring him in."

Jenna’s eyes lingered on you for a moment longer before she nodded. "See that you do."

As you walked out of the room, your mind spun with the weight of the task ahead. Sylus wasn’t just a target; he was the most dangerous man you’d ever been assigned. And now, you were supposed to deceive him, to lead him into a trap- you couldn’t afford a single mistake.

The dim glow of neon lights and the low hum of music created a relaxed atmosphere in the small bar you and your colleagues gathered. It was a spot you’d claimed long ago after gruelling days of training or missions, a place for deepspace hunters to unwind.

Tara draped her arm around your shoulder, a drink in her hand, and a mischievous smile tugging at her lips. She pulled you in tight and whispered in your ear excitedly "Y/N, you’re going after Sylus freakin’ Qin! I still can’t believe it." she whispered his name even quieter, as if saying it too loudly would summon him or something.

You let out a laugh, though it felt a little forced. "I’m not even sure why they picked me for this." It was true- despite Jenna’s recommendation, there were many, more experienced, higher-level hunters that had been put forward. So, why you?

Tara gave you a playful shove. "Are you kidding? You're a total badass! If anyone can take on that zone and come out alive, it’s you." She wiggled her eyebrows. "Besides, I heard Sylus is ridiculously hot. I swear, if you get up close and personal, you better tell me everything."

Xavier flashed you a horrified glance as you rolled your eyes, feeling part of the tension start to loosen and another begin to build. "It’s not like that, Tara."

"Oh, but it could be!" She leaned in closer, dropping her voice to a teasing whisper. "Dangerous, brooding, probably smells like gunpowder and leather…"

"Please." You cut her off, shaking your head, but the smile on your face grows a little wider and you allow yourself a slight giggle. Tara had always known how to make light of things, even dangerous missions. It’s one of the reasons you’ve been close for so long—she knew how to distract you when you started overthinking.

Xavier’s voice cut through the banter, calm but carrying a note of something unspoken. "Just… be careful." He sat across from you, nursing his drink, his eyes more focused on the table than the conversation. "The N109 zone isn’t like your other missions. You won’t have backup, and Sylus… he’s a different kind of threat."

You glanced at him, feeling the weight of his concern. Xavier had always been protective, but something about his tone made you shift uneasily in your seat. "I know. I’ll be fine. Captain Jenna wouldn’t have assigned me if she didn’t think I could handle it."

Tara leaned back in her chair, rolling her eyes at Xavier. "Please, Xavier. She’s not a rookie. Y/N’s a big girl; she can take care of herself. Besides, she’s not going to let some psycho in a leather coat throw her off her game, no matter how hot he is."

You chuckled, but Xavier’s frown deepened. "I just don’t like the idea of you going in alone. I’d feel better if you had some sort of backup."

You sighed, stirring the drink in front of you. "It’s a solo mission, Xav. That’s part of the deal. I’m supposed to gain his trust, remember? How can I do that with you hovering around or Tara creaming herself at the mere sight of him?" You tried to lighten the mood, but Xavier’s expression didn’t change.

Tara piped up again, grinning mischievously. "Gaining his trust… that’s one way to put it." She started humming a tune under her breath, a playful glint in her eyes. "Mama, I’m in love with a criminal…"

You laughed, shaking your head as Tara continued, her voice light and teasing. The absurdity of the moment felt like a balm to your nerves, even if the reality of the mission loomed large.

But Xavier wasn’t amused. His gaze flicked from Tara back to you, softer now, tinged with something deeper than concern. "Just… don’t do anything reckless, okay?"

You met his eyes, the weight of his words hanging between you. He’d always been this way- cautious, protective, lingering on the edge of something he could never quite say. As much as you appreciated it, part of you bristled at the overprotectiveness.

"I won’t," you replied, keeping your tone light despite the pressure of his gaze on you.

Tara, blissfully unaware of the tension, clinked her glass against yours. "Cheers to Y/N! Bringing down the most wanted, sexy criminal in the galaxy- and living to tell the tale!"

You shook your head again, but this time, the laugh was genuine. "You’re impossible."

"Someone has to keep things fun around here," she quipped, leaning back in her chair with a wide grin.

The conversation shifted, drifting away from the seriousness of the mission, and for a while, you let yourself get swept up in the celebration. But even as laughter and banter filled the air, you couldn’t shake the undercurrent of doubt creeping back in. Why had Captain Jenna really picked you? You weren’t the most experienced hunter. Others had more field time in the N109 zone and more reason to be chosen.

You glanced over at Xavier again, once again, finding his eyes already fixed on you. There was something unsaid there, a worry that ran deeper than his words, it made you uncomfortable.

"I’ll be fine," you said again, quieter this time, almost like you were trying to convince yourself as much as him.

Xavier’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he raised his glass, his voice soft. "To your success. And your safety."

Tara beamed, still blissfully unaware of the weight in the air. "To Y/N! Who’s gonna take down the galaxy’s hottest criminal!"

Your first day in the N109 zone was, frankly, a disaster. The moment you crossed into the district, a wave of unease washed over you. The air felt different here- thicker, charged with tension and unspoken danger. Street lights flickered erratically, casting shadows that seemed to writhe and pulse with a life of their own, and the sun barely peaked over the horizon, never fully rising. You reminded yourself of your mission: track Sylus, gain his trust, and bring him into the Hunter's Association. But as you navigated the winding streets, the sensation of being in over your head clung to you

You pulled up a map on your Hunter’s watch, the holographic display glowing dimly in the murky light as you tried to identify potential leads. Information flowed like a murky river in the N109 zone, and every face you passed felt like a mask hiding something sinister. The first few contacts you attempted to make led nowhere - dead ends that plunged you deeper into the seedy underbelly of the district, where conversations were laced with hostility and suspicion.

“Hey, you new around here?” a rough-looking man asked, eyeing you as you lingered outside a dilapidated bar. His crooked smile didn’t reach his eyes and you felt the weight of his scrutiny. “You’ll need a better look if you want to fit in.” You glanced down at yourself-, he wasn't wrong. You stood out like a sore thumb in your Hunter’s uniform. Starting tomorrow, you’d dress like the locals- mostly in all black, blending into the shadows like everyone else.

“Just looking for some information on Sylus Qin,” you replied, trying to sound confident. But the moment his name left your lips, the man’s demeanour shifted. He narrowed his eyes, a flicker of fear or respect—or maybe both—crossing his features.

“Not the guy you wanna be messin’ with, sweetheart. Best steer clear,” he muttered before turning his back on you without another word. Frustration welled up inside you. This wasn’t going as planned. You didn’t want word spreading about your interest in Sylus.

As the day dragged on, you found yourself moving from one low-lit alley to another, encountering rejection and hostility at every turn. Everyone seemed to know Sylus’s name but was too terrified to speak it, leaving you grasping at shadows and feeling increasingly isolated. By the time night fell, the streets became more dangerous, and you decided it was best to retreat to your apartment back in Linkon.

Back home, you leaned against the wall, staring at your watch’s interface. The gravity of the mission settled heavily on your shoulders, and doubt crept in like a thief in the night. You realised that the darkness of the N109 zone was not just a backdrop- it was an entity that clung to you, whispering of your inexperience and vulnerability.

But as the days passed, a strange familiarity began to weave itself into your routine. You watched, listened, adapted. The subtle nuances of the district’s unspoken rules and underhanded dealings started to reveal themselves, and slowly, you learned how to navigate the complexities of the N109 zone. You began to blend in just enough to draw a few passing glances without arousing suspicion.

Your investigative instincts sharpened. You found yourself in beat-up cafés, observing patrons exchanging furtive glances over steaming cups of synthetic coffee, their conversations laced with veiled references to Sylus’s dealings. You overheard whispers of shipments, meetings, and finally- a location that sent your heart racing.

“It’s near the old foundry,” a waitress mentioned to a customer, her voice barely above a whisper. “He runs things from a compound, in one of the old stately homes. He keeps to himself mostly, but you can’t miss it. Just follow the road past the southern docks.”

A rush of determination flooded through you. Finally, a lead! You wasted no time; your heart thrumming with a mix of fear and exhilaration. The thought of finding Sylus’s estate ignited a spark of hope, propelling you forward. As you gathered your gear, you reminded yourself of your purpose. The apprehension from your first day still lingered, but now it was laced with a newfound resolve.

With every step deeper into the N109 zone, you embraced the danger. You were learning, adapting, and slowly becoming part of the intricate tapestry of shadows and light that defined this place. And for better or worse, you were closer than ever to the man who would challenge everything you thought you knew.

The lady had been right—you found the estate with relative ease. It was impossible to miss. The manor, though clearly built long ago, had been restored to near-new condition, standing stark against its dilapidated surroundings. This was Sylus Qin’s home—his base of operations as the head of Onychinus.

The first day you caught sight of him, was the day you knew this mission would be even harder than you were led to believe but for entirely the wrong reasons.

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, it was hard to remember why you were there. He was standing in front of a nearby building, the black blazer hanging loosely over his broad shoulders, his silver hair falling in dishevelled strands across his face. His red eyes scanned his surroundings like he owned the place—like there was nothing in the galaxy that could challenge him.

He was tall, too tall maybe, with that unfair kind of height that made him even more intimidating than the average person. But it wasn’t just his height. No, it was the way his body seemed to move—fluid and calculated, each step made with a deliberate grace that told you he knew exactly how dangerous he was. As did the people around him, whose gaze drifted to him subconsciously as he entered a room, commanding their attention.

Your gaze betrayed you, drifting down to his arms, the way his dress shirt clung to his biceps. His build was...distracting, to say the least. Muscular, broad chest, narrow waist, the sharp V-line of his torso that drew your attention a little too much. It was like he’d been sculpted by someone who thought it would be a fun idea to make a man too attractive for his own good. You cursed yourself for lingering.

Then there were his hands. Strong, elegant fingers, the kind you could imagine tracing patterns on the most sensitive parts of your body. You shook the thought away, appalled at how easily your mind wandered. His hands, as beautiful as they were, had more blood on them than you could count. There was nothing innocent about them.

Still, your eyes found their way back to his face, the sharp angles of his jaw, the slight scruff that only added to his rugged charm. And his lips—damn, his lips. Full and soft-looking, the kind of lips that would make anyone wonder what they’d feel like against theirs. You swallowed, cursing the heat that rose in your cheeks.

You had a job to do. You couldn’t afford to think like that.

But there was something about Sylus that made you uneasy beyond his reputation. It wasn’t just his appearance, though that was enough to send your heart racing if you stared too long. It was the way he carried himself, the subtle confidence that came with being untouchable. He was a man who could ruin you in more ways than one, and you knew it.

And yet, here you were, watching him, trying to make sense of the strange feeling gnawing at you.

Attraction? Fear? A little bit of both?

Whatever it was, it didn’t matter. You couldn’t afford to get distracted. Sylus was dangerous. You knew that. But that didn’t stop you from thinking about him just a little too much, wondering if the same hands that could kill with such ease might feel different in other situations.

You found yourself thinking about Tara’s remarks. She would have a field day when you told her just how attractive he was. Something inside you bristed at the thought of Tara drooling after him, a nasty part of you felt compelled to slap her inevitable shit eating grin.

Every day, Sylus seemed to do something that contradicted his brutal reputation. Like he pulled up in a sleek black Bentley, only to open the trunk and haul out dozens of tins of tuna. He’d carried them into a dimly lit alley, where a cluster of stray cats eagerly waited their meal. You couldn’t help but smile, your heart softening at the sight. This was the most wanted criminal in deepspace? It was confusing- almost laughable. Captain Jenna’s warnings echoed in your mind, but they felt distant, like the wisp of a memory half-remembered. You watched intently, noticing the gentleness of his hands as he stroked one of the cats. The way his fingers curled and caressed the soft ear of the feline. You watched, meticulously.

Days later, you saw him stop outside a small, rundown school. A group of children played in the dust, their laughter filling the air like a melody. Sylus approached the headmaster, handing him an envelope. You couldn't hear their conversation, but you saw the gratitude in the man’s eyes as he accepted the donation. You noted it down. Sylus was supporting the struggling school’s program. This moment—so starkly contrasting with the image of a ruthless criminal—made you question everything.

Your fascination deepened as you watched Sylus conduct meetings with an array of characters—men in suits, tattooed individuals, all laughing and shaking hands. Nothing appeared violent or suspicious. The disconnect between your observations and the brutal image painted by others became more unsettling by the day.

Following him on foot was another failure—his long strides and confidence made it impossible to keep up. Frustrated, you abandoned the idea and focused on your surveillance equipment, your lifeline. But it was also the tether that forced you to confront the growing complexity of your feelings for him.

Then, everything changed.

It was a quiet afternoon, the kind that seemed to lull the world into a false sense of security. You adjusted your viewing angle, your heart fluttering as you caught a glimpse of him in the warehouse, not far from his estate. Situated high in the rafters.You'd gotten there early, armed with intel on the meeting place.

The scene unfolded like a twisted play- goods exchanged, a casual meeting that quickly turned dark. Sylus stood across from Matthew Halbard and his associates. The deal should have been straightforward, he was buying protocores, altered, high-grade and rare components that would help strengthen his position in the N109 zone, Onychinus’s position. But tension hung in the air like a thick fog, and you could feel it even from your hidden position. Halbard’s eyes flicked with something dangerous, and your instincts told you things were about to go sideways.

The negotiation soured fast. You leaned in closer, your pulse quickening as you realised they intended to con Sylus. A betrayal.They’d planned to catch him off guard, take him out, and claim Onychinus for themselves. 'Cowards,' you thought. The idea of ambushing him, waiting for him to be alone, gnawed at you.

The tension in the air grew and the conversation escalated, Halbard’s face grew more smug and his men seemed to be dripping with anticipation. You watched Sylus closely. His expression remained neutral, predatory even, though you could see the faint tightening of his jaw. It was the only sign of the storm brewing beneath his composed exterior. The sight sent a chill down your spine—the way he moved, the subtle aligning of his hips and rolling of his shoulders, was fluid, like a man who anticipated violence.

Then it happened. In a split second, Halbard’s men drew their weapons. Panic rushed through you, your breath catching. Sylus, however, didn't even flinch. Instead, he smiled—a slow, chilling grin that sent a jolt of fear straight through your core. Gunfire erupted, splitting the air like thunder, but Sylus became the storm instead.

You watched in horror, your heart pounding rapidly in your chest, as he dismantled their attack with brutal efficiency, each movement deliberate and lethal. He was a force of nature, dispatching them with the same efficiency you’d seen him use while feeding stray cats - calm, casual, and unnervingly composed. The contrast between those two versions of him - the killer and the caretaker - left you reeling.

His Evol sliced through the air with deadly accuracy. Every strike was purposeful, no movement wasted. You watched in stunned horror as Sylus tortured the men before deciding, with terrifying calm, who deserved to die. The executions were brutal, calculated, each one more grotesque than the last. You wanted to look away, but couldn’t. Every death was horrific, yet undeniably earned. The men had underestimated him, and so, it seemed, had you.

Your stomach churned. The Sylus you’d observed over the last few weeks, the one who laughed over coffee and donated money to local schools, had vanished, replaced by a monster who shed blood as easily as breathing. It left you unsettled, blindsided by the jarring reality. How could this be the same person? You’d let your guard down, allowed yourself to see him through a softer lens, and now it felt like the ground had shifted beneath you.

As the dust settled and the echoes of violence faded, you remained hidden in the rafters frozen in place, your breath coming out in shallow gasps. Sylus scanned the warehouse, his sharp gaze sweeping the area. For a moment, it seemed as though he sensed something out of place. You stayed perfectly still, hoping he hadn’t detected your presence.

With a subtle flick of his wrist, Sylus sent a command to Mephisto, the mechanical crow perched nearby, its cameras whirring softly. “Keep an eye on that one,” he murmured, an amused smirk curling his lips. “Let’s see what she does next.”

Back in your apartment, the images of Sylus in the warehouse played on a loop in your mind, an inescapable storm of conflicting thoughts. You paced, trying to dispel the visions, but they clung to you. The Sylus you'd been watching- the one you'd begun to romanticise- was gone, replaced by the merciless killer from the warehouse.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair, trying to calm your racing pulse. Your training kicked in, helping you focus in the quiet darkness of your apartment. That was when you noticed it. A large bird perched on the edge of your balcony, its beady eyes fixed on you. It moved with an eerie smoothness, almost unnatural. You squinted, trying to place the species. It looked like a strange hybrid between a crow and a raven, but something about it felt… off.

You shook your head. “What a strange bird…” you muttered.

Unbeknownst to you, Sylus smiled to himself. “Mephisto,” He chuckled, a spark of amusement lighting his carmine eyes as he leaned back in his chair, watching the live feed from the mechanical crow. The bird let out a soft caw.

“Let’s tone down your surveillance skills a bit,” Sylus chuckled softly. “We don’t want her feeling too watched, now.”

Mephisto ruffled his dark feathers in response, a silent display of sass that didn’t go unnoticed. The way the bird shifted its stance on the balcony almost seemed to say, Good luck with that, master.

Sylus’s gaze lingered on the flickering lights of the live feed as he leaned back, contemplating his next move. He was excited. The thrill of watching you navigate this game filled him with anticipation."Let the little bird think she's in control," he mused aloud, a slow grin forming. "It makes things more interesting.”

I hope you enjoyed chapter 1! Please let me know what you think ♥️ reach out. Let’s talk! 🌹

#love and deepspace sylus #sylus #sylus qin #l&ds sylus #lads sylus #lnds sylus #love and deepspace #sylus smut #sylus x reader #sylus x you #yandere sylus #yandere reader #fanfic #writing

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myhornysaga · 2 months ago

Text

My War Criminal Husband

Established relationship, Graves x fem reader

A/n: idk anything about law, lawyers or courts kindly do NOT come for me. Thank you!

You and Graves are a match made in hell.

You, a criminal lawyer with a sharp tongue.

Philip Graves, a war criminal, CEO of a private military company and your husband, your partner for as long as you could remember.

You two together, are a force to be reckoned with.

Graves knows you, you know Graves. You both are each other's immovable rocks that keep each other grounded. A reminder of both of your roots and how it all started...

You trust Phil and Phil trusts you.

And that is why you are now representing his PMC at the Court.

It is a highly televised affair so all eyes are on you. Phil didn't come because he's currently in the midst of a Contract but thats confidential info besides he knows you're good under pressure and can handle things well in his absence.

The party involved, prosecutor claims "'Commander Philip Graves' and his boy band have committed war crimes on foreign soil. Killing civilians, children and women with that bomb drop! We need to disband this mercenary group with immediate effect!, your honor". The old man growled as he finished his sentence and glared at you while sitting back down on his seat.

As if! You thought. The Shadows isn't just some pmc in the market or Phil trying his luck in business. It is something that Phil and you created from ground, from dust with extensive planning and research did The shadow company formed. Raising it like a child you both never had. Phil describes it best.... "we're all just one big family!"

And no way in hell would you let some cranky old man Mr Tithabeault, tell you to 'disband' your company! It is like a neighbor asking a mother to maim her child!

"Your honor i object." you stood and started your piece.

All eyes were on you now. Everyone is watching. Heck the entire thing is televised around the globe. So you knew you have to be careful with words and attitude because you weren't in just any court. No, you were representing The Shadow Company at the International Court of Justice in Hague, Netherlands.

------------××××××××××××××××××--------------

After grueling session between the prosecutor and you, the defendent. You delivered your final piece.

"Your honor my client is not just deciding to wake up one day and plan on bombing on foreign soil as Mr Tithabeault here suggests." You took pause and took a look at the prosecutor to deliver the final blow.

You continued, "..No, oh no! The Shadows Company is working under Contract alongside a Country's army. It is a confidential information so my apologies i cannot specify the country. But regardless, your honor, my client's working with the Army which, by default", you knew just few more words and this case's win is yours. You glanced a final smug glance at the prosecutor before continuing..

"..by default my client is considered an extension of his then-contractor. Not some, to quote Mr Tithabeault, rogue 'boyband'!" And with that finishing line you took a sigh as you sat back down in your black robe.

You knew you have won the case beacuse it is a bogus case in the first place! Graves' receives a lot of accusations every now and then and you are too used to fighting the same fight over abd over again.

But the only reason this case became a high profile case is because your husband has quite a list of enemies and 'some' of these people just have 'some' people in high places. Thus this one horse got dragged to the ICJ.

--------------------------------------------------

The verdict came and just as you had predicted, you won.

Same shit, another day. Simple as that.

You smiled as you walked out of the prestigous International Court, to get into your car.

You had two Shadows by your side for your protection.

Just as you stepped outside the building, in a minute you were swarmed by thousands of reporters, protesters yelling screaming hounding you with questions on the trial, cursing you for representing a mercenary group and what not.

But you couldn't care any less. You know you had a job which was to have Phil's back and you did your job well.

The two shadows cleared the way for you to a 3rd shadow opening the car door for you to enter into your black bullet proof SUV.

The moment the door closed you took deep sigh of relaxation.

The 3rd shadow entered the passenger seat and the driver started driving to The Ritz Hotel where you are residing for the duration of the trial.

"Maam", the shadow on the passenger seat called out for you.

Your eyes were getting droopy due to exhaustion but the man's voice woke you up from your daze. "Yes?"

"Maam you have a call from shadow 0-1 ugh", he corrected himself thinking you may not be aware of the field callsign " its Commander Graves", he finished as he handed you the satellite phone.

Your eyes lit up on the mention of Phil's name.

"Phil? We won", you muttered with a hint of past work loads exhaustion still there.

"Y/n? Babe you did great today! I knew you'll get it done..", he said from other side.

You could hear he's happy, "ah it was nothing. Same stuff just different day honestly..", you are tired from all that work load of late night research and stress and it was evident in your tone subconsciously. But you tried to hide it while talking to him. Hell you haven't seen him for a month!

"Saw you on T.V. babe. You looked hot. I'll make my payment to ya for being my lawyer as soon as i come home.."

You chuckled at his suggestive comment, "oh you better!"

He sensed your exhausted tone from miles away.

"...'Kay babe gotta go now. The boys will take care of you till you reach home. Tell em to hit me up as soon as you drop, ya?"

"Yeah, ofcourse.."

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Part 2

M.list

Series masterlist

#phillip graves #philip graves x reader #graves x reader #cod x reader #cod #graves cod #graves x you #task force 141 #cod mw2 #cod modern warfare #x female reader #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #cod x y/n #fem reader #graves x female reader #phillip graves x reader

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bigassmoonchild · 1 year ago

Text

Mirrors

Pairing: Captain John Price x Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: Price and the 141 join forces with another special forces team, tracking down a known mercenary and trying to protect a much-hated political figure. Price gets distracted by the captain he's working with.

Content Tags: Smut, Mentions of Violence, Some fluff, Oral Sex (M Receiving), Fingering, Slight Overstimulation, Multiple Orgasms, PiV Sex, Dom! Price, Slightly Mean Price, Mirror Sex

A/N: I'm really spoiling y'all. I probably won't post this frequently in the future, I've just been in a writing mood. It'll turn out to be once every Friday and/or Saturday. As always, content is under the cut and my asks are open <3.

"Hey Price, how are we going to know who to not shoot if shit goes down?" Soap asked through the comms, Price looking out the windows to try and find the man. He took a sip of the drink he was holding, watered down whiskey that he's been holding on to since they got there.

Price looked around the venue, counting the people working with him. "Anyone wearing red," his eyes landed on you. Bright red dress hugging your curves, a sly smile on your face as you spoke with someone. Your eyes never stopped moving, catching his for a second before moving on.

He kept looking around. Price could see the political figure they were sent to protect, some American whose head was on the black market. A few of your own soldiers were scattered around, some sitting at the bar, others chatting amongst themselves near entry points.

From the debriefing you'd given, it was a hit or miss when it came to whether or not he would be attempting to snipe the man or go in for a quick shot. So you'd gotten Ghost and Soap, alongside two of your own sharp-shooters to set up at vantage points along the outside of the high-rise, the rest would set up inside. It was your decision to mark the teams a color, just in case the sharp-shooters got confused within the confusion of someone causing a panic.

Price had liked you from the beginning. Quick witted and smart, letting him relax from taking the lead for once. He'd known you just under 24 hours and you intrigued him.

"You might want to stop staring, Price, it could lead to some unwanted attention," your voice came through the comms, and when he looked for you, you hadn't been in the same place you were just a few moments ago.

Your arm wrapped around his, giggling a little but staring through him.

"Seriously, the guy in white has been watching me for a few minutes now, and I don't think he just wants to buy me a drink," you shifted just a bit, allowing Prices head to move in the direction the guy you'd been talking about. Price gave a fake laugh, pulling you in closer to him, watching the man turn away.

Price looked down at you. "Do you think he knows?" You looked away for a moment, giving a faint shrug at that. "Is he someone from your past?" You grimaced slightly. "Oh lord, do tell," he smiled slightly.

You pulled back a bit, giving a small face. "He was wanted a few years back for attempted murder on some big guy, he got the military sent after him and we were who got sent. He really didn't like that, especially when he was released with no connections to the crime," you glanced back slightly, eyes flittering to find the man, but he seemed to disappear.

Price looked as well, but couldn't find him, so his eyes found yours again and tugged you a little closer.

"You know what?" You hummed in response. "I don't quite think I've seen someone quite as beautiful as you," you snorted, shaking your head.

"Very forward, aren't you?" You smiled at him. He gave a shrug, eyes looking over you. "As much as I appreciate the compliment, I do think your pretty little eyes should be looking elsewhere," you whispered to him.

Price found himself looking over your head, finding Gaz giving him an interesting look before gazing away. "We both know how often we have time for interesting people, might as well take the time we have, huh?" You rolled your eyes a little, sliding your hands up his chest.

"I can't help but agree with that sentiment, John," you smiled, spinning in his arms and gazing out across the room. "I think it'll seem a little suspicious that we're standing together so long, so I'll be back to 'flirting' with whoever will talk to me," you used air quotes, rolling your eyes softly before disappearing back amongst the crowd. Price gave a small laugh, taking another sip of the watered down whiskey and glancing back around the room.

A few more men walked in, all wearing white as well. This caught his attention, watching as they met up with the first man. He watched you spin slightly towards them, keeping the group of guys in your line of sight. You gave Price a small glance over your glass, looking back at the men and he tilted his head back, going to take a sip from his glass to cover his mouth.

"Keep an eye on the men in white," affirmatives were given to him over the comms, and he could see a few of your own men shifting themselves to get an eye on the group.

The group of them had started to surround the man the group of you were hired to protect, and you watched as a few of your own men started to tense.

Your fingers twitched, making the men in your squad pause. Price watched as you stood, nearly gliding over to one of the new-comers and dragging him away, rubbing yourself on him and whispering something in his ear. Price could see the smirk from where he stood, watching as you guided him to a couch and your hand sliding to his neck.

Price assumed it was a tranq you hit him with, watching the man slump over before you stood. You gave the men a quick gesture, watching as the three others started to press in. Price placed the drink he'd never been able to finish on the table, pushing off and adjusting his sleeves as he moved in on them as well. It was when the man in the back pulled out a gun that any of you moved quicker.

"Hey!" You shouted, pulling a pistol from a holster on your thigh, aiming it straight for the man.

Through the chaos, Price couldn't see exactly what had happened. People had started running and screaming, shoving him around but he could hear a gunshot, quickly followed by the sound of glass breaking and bullets whistling by. The sounds of bodies dropping weren't slow to follow them, and Price kept pushing through the screaming crowd.

When he finally got through the crowd, he saw the three men on the ground, your pistol was lowered, staring down at the men now lying motionless with red staining their suits. You looked behind you and found Price, two of your men on your squad had come around to check the guys.

The guy you were protecting was shaken, and you turned your attention to him. You leaned in to him, arm on his shoulder and guiding him to a seat, getting him to sit down. Price looked back around, the area mostly deserted by civilians.

"Keep an eye out. We don't know if they're the only ones sent," he said through the comms, eyes still moving through the area. As much as Price tried to stop it, his eyes couldn't stop finding you. You were smiling and laughing with the man, and he felt pangs of jealousy.

Why? You were a colleague at this point, there was no reason to feel this way. You'd come and you'd go, just like the others he worked with. There was something different, though. You were beautiful, yes, but you had more personality than the others he'd worked with.

Especially the way you spoke with people, understanding and elegance with the way you talked. He appreciated a well-spoken person.

Price felt a touch on his arm, snapping out of his stupor and looking down at you. Your head jerked to the side, tugging him out of the room.

"He didn't even know he had a hit out on him," you started, finding a mirror hanging in the hall and looking yourself over. "Usually these kind of men believe that they're getting hunted, at all times, but he seems genuinely shaken," you looked at Price. "You think it's just a ruse?"

He had to think for a moment, eyes flittering over you. He leaned against the wall, rubbing his beard for a moment.

"I honestly think he's full of it," he gave you a smile and you huffed, rolling your eyes. Price leaned towards you, hands finding your hips. "Let's be honest, he hasn't got much going for him. I've seen his press, and it isn't pretty," you smiled, leaning towards him, arms sneaking up his chest.

"I'm sure he won't be the only one full of something this evening, like you said, we should take our chances when we can," you slid backwards, tugging him alongside with you, hands sliding into his and turning to find where you were intending to go.

Turning the corner, you opened the bathroom door and dragging him inside. Price locked it behind the two of you, watching as you continued walking, stopping in front of the sinks and mirrors. He stalked up to you, hands sliding along your hips and grabbing at your waist, pressing you into the sink.

He could feel you pressing back against him, sliding his arms up to unzip your dress. You slid the straps off of your arms and let the dress fall, unveiling your braless chest and simple panties, his eyes grazing across you through the mirror.

Spinning around, you dropped to your knees in front of him and palming him through his pants. He watched as you undid his belt, undoing his button and unzipping his pants. You gave a little smile, tugging his pants and briefs off of him.

John groaned, letting his head fall back as his hand found your head. He could feel your hand sliding along his cock before the heat of your mouth took him. Your tongue slid along his head before moving to take him deeper.

Your hand stroked what your mouth couldn't comfortably fit and he moaned with each suck, hand helping to guide you to a steady rhythm. When he looked down, your eyes were already searching for his. He couldn't help but let his mouth drop open with his moan, hand pushing for your mouth to move faster.

A short chuckle escaped him with the gag you let out, eyes scrunching shut as he started abusing the back of your throat. He watched as a few tears escaped your eyes, rolling down your cheeks before he tugged on your hair to pull your head off of him.

Your eyes stayed shut, a thin string of spit connecting you to him and he smiled at that. Price tugged you up, sitting you back on the sink and leaning in to suck and nip at your neck.

"You'll be a good girl for me, won't you?" He smiled into your neck, hand sliding down to push your panties to the side. He could feel how wet you were even through the cloth, and stroked from your clit to your opening, sliding a finger in.

Your head dropped back as you moaned, leaving your neck open to more attacks from his mouth. He sucked bruises into it, curling his finger into your g-spot and feeling your hand find his wrist, grasping it tightly.

Price chuckled, sliding another finger in, trying to stretch you out. He could feel you pulsing against his fingers, hand tugging at his wrist with each movement he made.

He nipped your neck. "Come on, sweet girl, beg for me," he whispered into your ear, watching as your eyes just barely opened and mouth closing before trying to talk. When you did, he added one more finger, watching your eyes roll back when he kept pumping against your g-spot, thumb sliding against your clit.

God, he could listen to your moans for hours, little whines close to his ear when he moved to continue nipping at your neck. He pulled his fingers out, tugging you off of the sink and bending you over it instead.

He stroked his cock along your folds, watching your head drop between your arms.

"Please," it was a whisper, slightly crackly from the moans you'd been giving him.

"Please, what?" He urged you on, feeling your hips grind back on him, trying to get him to slide in. John tugged your head back by your hair, making you look at him through the mirror. "I'm not doing anything until you ask me to, sweet girl," he leaned back up, holding your hips still.

You blinked at him, slow and thoughtless. "Please, Captain, fuck me. Need your cock in me, sir, please," and he pressed in, sliding slowly into you. He watched your mouth drop open and brows furrow, eyes struggling to remain open.

Bottoming out, John let his head fall back, moaning low in pleasure. Your cunt was spasming around his cock, pleasure pooling from where you could feel him pressed so deeply in you. Gasping moans fell from your mouth when he pulled back out, fingers finding your clit and stroking slow.

Not waiting too much longer, he started to quicken his pace, dropping your hair to pull your hips back to meet each of his thrusts. Your arms shook from holding yourself up and stopping yourself from moving too much with each thrust, head falling back between them. You finally shut your mouth, swallowing thickly around a moan.

You could feel your cunt begin to spasm, pleasure spreading through your gut and causing a few tears to fall. Each thrust stuttered your moans, your hands grasping the sink under you harder as you came, the pleasure making your legs buckle, leaving John as the only source holding you up.

He didn't stop his rampage on your clit, one of your hands finding his and trying to pull it back.

"No, you don't get to pull me away from your pretty little clit," he shoved you back over the sink, hand getting caught under your body and stopping you from moving it anymore. "I'll keep you cumming around me, sweetheart, and you'll take it," he whispered and flicked his fingers around you clit faster.

You could feel the tears pouring down your cheeks as your body jerked with each press of his cock on your g-spot, each time his fingers stroked on your clit.

Head dropping, John looked down at where he could feel you sucking him in, watching your cunt drag him back in each time he pulled out. Your little gaspy whines echoed in the bathroom, and he slid his hand along your back to grab at your ass.

"Such a good little thing for me, hmm?" He glanced at the mirror, seeing your eyes scrunched shut and feeling your hips begin to twitch with another orgasm. "Cumming again so soon?" John couldn't help but smile at that, giving your ass a smack and feeling your cunt spasm. With a chuckle, he regained his torture against your clit and picked the speed back up.

He leaned over you, biting at your neck and sucking another hickey into it, hearing you gasp into your orgasm and grow silent, your cunt spasming around his cock with each flick over your clit. You could feel the searing pleasure flow through you, sliding against the sink with each thrust.

Seemingly regaining your voice, you let out a high pitched moan and writhed against him. John could feel his own orgasm building up on him and he relented on your clit, grabbing your hips tightly with his hands, tugging your hips back into his thrusts before pulling out, stroking his cock until he came along your ass.

John took a moment to admire you, his cum coating your ass and your slick dripping down your thighs. He tucked himself back into his pants, grabbing a paper towel to clean you up and grabbing your dress, sliding it over you, helping you zip it up.

Wiping the mascara that dripped down your face, he gave you a small smile. "You doing okay?" And all you could do was nod, letting your head fall onto his chest. He stood there, arms wrapping around you and slowly rocking you.

"'m okay," you whispered, wrapping your own arms around him. His head dropped onto yours, letting his smile grow.

#smut #captain john price x reader #john price x reader #john price x reader smut #captain john price #captain price #john price #task force 141 #Mentions of Ghost #Mentions of Gaz #Mentions of Soap #modern warfare ii #john price smut #call of duty x reader #I'm almost done with season 3 i need help #i havent finished my laundry #dom/sub #mirror sex

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vulpisnocturna · 1 year ago

Note

Could you please do number 11 or 21 for Kakashi PLEASEEE THAT WOULD BE AMAZING 😭🙏🙏

Of course!

Link to NSFW prompt list

11) Someone/(Character) spilled some aphrodisiac into reader's drink. It's up to Character to deal with horny reader now.

NSFW - MDNI

Warning: dubcon (aphrodisiac high reader), fingering, overstimulation, squirting, vaginal sex, creampie, Kakashi puts his shinobi stamina to good use, praise kink, degradation kink, power imbalance (Kakashi is y/n's captain)

As your captain during the mission, Kakashi was the one who had insisted you camp for the night. It was already dark and after having travelled for more than seven hours, your muscles were sore and burning from exertion. You stopped in a small village and had supper at a tavern frequented by a myriad of people you would not have liked to meet ever again. Some of them looked as though they were involved in the black market, and though you had kept an eye on your surroundings, none of them resembled the targets of your mission, a group of mercenaries who sold shinobi to people such as Orochimaru so that he would have a constant flow of live subjects for his experiments.

You were staying at an inn on the other side of the village from the tavern you'd had dinner at, and the middle-aged man who ran the inn had told you he only had one room available. Kakashi had said he would sleep on the floor with his sleeping bag, and you had agreed, though you had to admit that the idea of sleeping with your silver-haired captain had been very tempting. You would have never admitted to it, but you had a crush on your captain. He was three years older than you, and you had been assigned to half a dozen missions with him, and since the very first one, you'd been unable to get him out of your mind. You settled on the bed, your muscles aching, your stomach in a knot. You felt quite dizzy after what you'd eaten, and you hoped you didn't have food poisoning. You would arrive at the location of the mercenary hideout the next day, and you could not risk jeopardising the mission because you were ill. And yet, as you looked at Kakashi, who was checking the room and looking out of the drawn curtains to see that no one had followed you and you were safe, you felt oddly warm. You pressed your thighs together, breathing a little raggedly, your eyes scrunched up as you suppressed a groan. What was happening? It did not feel like food poisoning. It felt like hot shivers running down your spine, warmth between your legs, and an unbearable tightness in your lower stomach. Had you been poisoned? Through your dizziness, you noticed that Kakashi seemed completely normal.

He turned to look at you, but you couldn't see him clearly through your blurry vision and the tears that had pooled in your eyes. It hurt. Every second that passed, it hurt more and more. It hurt everywhere, but the ache between your legs was the strongest. You realised with a grimace that your panties were soaked through, clinging to your skin. Was it... aphrodisiac? You couldn't think. As Kakashi bent over the bed and peered at you with his uncovered eye, you felt the need to press your thighs together again, and a breathy moan escaped you.

'Where does it hurt?' he asked, his voice muffled as your ears started ringing and you tried to keep your hand from slipping under your pants. You needed to relieve the pressure so badly. Even with your ninja training, you could hardly keep from convulsing on the sheets.

Kakashi swallowed, looking at you as you started to thrash on the bed, your hair clinging to the sides of your face as you started moaning, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as your back arched.

'Captain-' you breathed, and Kakashi hated the way his cock stirred in his trousers at the sound of your voice, at the needy whine you let out.

He bent over near your face, his nose catching a whiff of your breath: it was cloyingly sweet, heady. Even though he hadn't eaten nor drank any of whatever you had had, his head spun for a second, and his cock stiffened in his trousers.

Aphrodisiac. He could fucking smell your arousal, and it was going to his head. The way your body arched and your thighs rubbed against each other in a desperate attempt to relieve yourself of what he could only imagine was an unbearable torture made him shamefully hard. He did not want to force himself on you. But he did not have any kind of antidote or solution that wasn't physical.

'It hurts- Captain, I need you' you keened, tears spilling from your eyes as you reached a hand between your legs. Kakashi averted his eyes.

'You have been poisoned. It likely happened at the tavern, and perhaps our targets are guilty of it. I will wait outside if you have to... resolve this situation' he swallowed heavily again as he heard you moan and caught a glimpse of your fingers moving and your hips desperately rutting against your hand.

'No- it's not working- need you... please. Please' you begged, sobbing and shaking. Kakashi hated seeing you like this. he had wanted you for a while now, but not like this. Of course not like this.

'You're not in the right mindset-' he started, but crumbled when your hand reached to his crotch, palming him, giving him friction.

'I can't- it hurts too much. I want it- want it so badly. Please help me, Captain' you moaned, and Kakashi couldn't take it anymore.

'Alright. Alright' he murmured, taking off his jounin vest and making quick work of your shirt and trousers. He pried your hand away from between your legs, looking at you briefly before he took off his undershirt, his mask and his headband, too.

You looked at him, moaning loudly when he started to kiss your throat, licking and nipping at it as his hands massaged your breasts, rolled your nipples between his fingers and pinched them. You were so loud as you rutted against him. Kakashi knew you would cum straightaway if he were to touch you where you needed it most. And you did. Just as his fingers started circling your clit, you let out a loud whine, your nails raking his back as you came with a breathy moan. You calmed down a little after your aftershocks quelled down, but you kept rutting against his hand and moaning sinfully as his fingers dipped inside you. You clamped around them, a whorish whine leaving your lips as he curled his fingers.

'That's it- good girl, relax, just let me handle it' he said, flicking your nipple with his tongue, sucking it in his mouth. Despite how much he hated the fact that you had been poisoned, he couldn't help but be harder than he'd ever been in his life. You were so fucking tight and wet, so hot as you clung to him and cried and sobbed as he fucked you with his fingers, giving you just what you needed until you came again with a loud keen.

'Captain... so good- want you inside me' you moaned, and Kakashi sped up his ministrations, grazing your nipple with his teeth, straying away from the temptation to kiss your mouth because he was not sure if he would get poisoned too. And because he wanted to keep it for when you were in your right mind.

'Shh. Just another one, pretty girl. I know you can do it for me' he murmured, rubbing his palm against your clit as he added a third finger, pumping them inside you until you started moaning loudly and pulling at his hair, your legs tensing up and trembling, your cunt spasming around his fingers and your hips twitching as clear liquid gushed around his hand. Kakashi groaned against the soft, smooth skin of your chest, impossibly aroused to know he'd made you squirt.

You panted, your eyes scrunched up, your hips tiredly rolling against him. Kakashi removed his hand, surprised when you seemed to regain energy straight away and pulled at his trousers, which he took off along with his boxers, letting out a soft groan as you pushed him on his back and straddled him, grinding against him. His hands settled on your hips, palmed your ass and smacked it, wondering if you would find more satisfaction in a rougher kind of sex. And oh you did. You moaned, lifting your hips and feverishly guiding his cock into that tight, wet heaven that enveloped him and made him moan breathily.

'Captain- talk to me... need you to call me names- need you to be rough' you moaned in his ear. Kakashi's mouth opened in a soft sigh, his eyebrows furrowing in pleasure, his sharingan recording every single twitch and every inch of your gorgeous body.

'Are you sure? I wouldn't want to hurt you. Perhaps not the right time to-' he was interrupted as you sucked on his throat, which led him to smack your ass again and crumble under your eager antics.

'Fuck- you're so fucking wet for me. You like acting like a desperate slut? Begging to be fucked. Have you no shame?' he groaned, watching as you moaned filthily, bouncing up and down on his cock, your tits swaying in front of his face. He latched his mouth on one of your stiff nipples, revelling in the loud moans you let out.

'Wanted you so bad- need you to fuck me hard, Captain' you whined, and he groaned, forcing you to go at his own pace by gripping your hips and bouncing you on his cock.

Kakashi knew you had no fault for behaving like this, and you might have acted that way with anyone who happened to be in your proximity, but he wanted it to be just for him so so badly. Wanted you to tell him he was the only one, wanted you to give yourself to him fully.

'Were you going to act like a little slut with other men? Were you going to beg them to touch you too?' he grunted, looking at your face as it contorted in pleasure, as tears streamed down your face.

'No- want to be your slut. Want you all the time- so good' you keened, bracing yourself with your hands on his thighs, giving him a gorgeous view of your whole body.

'Good girl. Cum again for me, since you need it so fucking badly' he groaned, pressing against your g-spot, his hips snapping into yours as he continued to roughly manhandle you on his cock. Ever so compliant, your cunt clamped around him, making his hips stutter as he came along with you.

You slumped on top of him, moaning and panting, and Kakashi rubbed your back, stroking your hair, holding you as you regained your breathing.

But as it turned out, the aphrodisiac must have been incredibly strong, because it hadn't even been two minutes before you started to grind against him again, and Kakashi started to get harder with your motions and the sweet little whimpers that came out of you.

He pulled you off of him and on your back, hooking his elbows under your knees and spreading your legs as he pushed his cock back into you, almost surprised at the speed at which he'd gotten hard again.

And he knew it might not even be the last time. He was in for a long night, and so were you.

#naruto #kakashi smut #kakashi hatake #kakashi x reader #hatake kakashi #kakashi x you #kakashi x y/n #kakashi hatake smut #kakashi imagines #naruto smut

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max-hubris · 8 days ago

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@dreamsaremywords posted a dope prompt for a Clexa Mandalorian AU a while ago, and I own enough Star Wars RPG books for it to be embarrassing, so of course I had to write something. Please enjoy this meet-ugly between a moody bounty hunter and a reckless idiot. Title from a Perturbator-song that I was listening to on repeat when writing this.

She Moves Like a Knife

Stupid, stupid, stupid, Clarke thinks as she blinks furiously to clear the blood from her vision. Her helmet took the brunt of it, but there’s definitely a cut on her forehead, sending rivulets of crimson streaming down and directly into her left eye.

She hadn’t seen the shock baton coming before it literally hit her over the head, and though her armor ensured the electricity coursing through it wouldn’t send her into a spasming pile on the ground, the impact still fucking hurt.

“Fucking Cartel dicks,” Clarke mutters, readjusting the grip on her blaster. She’s a long way from Nal Hutta and Nar Shaddaa both, but the Hutt Cartel’s slimy tendrils are longer. And though she doesn’t speak much Dosh, in-between the harsh hissing syllables from the Trandoshans, she hears the name ‘Cholta’ repeated a few times.

She’s not going to let these amateurs take her anywhere, and especially not to some Hutt Cartel Lord who decided to put a bounty on her for no other reason than, in Clarke’s opinion, to be a real fucking asshole. Can’t even let her subtly loiter at a cantina in peace.

Another volley of blaster fire chips away at the makeshift cover, and she knows the durasteel crate she threw herself behind after kicking her initial assailant in the face isn’t gonna hold much longer. She chances a quick peek out of cover, managing to get eyes on all three of them. They’re all holed up behind the half-oval that makes up the cantina’s bar, a far more fortified position than what Clarke is working with. But… These older cantinas have their quirks, and her helmet’s HUD is still doing its job despite the impact, indicating the small fuel tank hooked up to the drink dispensing system. Clarke grins, happy to have her hunch confirmed.

Thankfully, everyone else had fled once the shooting started, so there’s no collateral other than structural to worry about.

Probably.

It’s gonna take a couple of shots to break through the plating, and Clarke is once again immensely grateful she managed to ditch the E-11 and its shitty accuracy as soon as she hit Elrood. As a manufacturing planet, it had a thriving black market filled with various things that went ‘missing’ from its gargantuan factories, and it hadn’t been hard to talk her way in, though she had obviously opted to forego her armor for that particular excursion. The Rodian manufactured heavy carbine she’d traded for had cost her both the E-11 and two thermal detonators, plus a couple of credits on top, but it was more than worth it for the upgraded precision, plus the extremely satisfying thump-noise it made when fired. Clarke has never been much for subtlety anyway.

To drive that point home, Clarke takes a deep breath, holds it, and pops out from behind her cover. Ignoring the shot that whizzes a little bit too close to her head, she follows the tracking on her HUD and finds the most vulnerable part of the tank easily. She exhales and pulls the trigger once, twice, keeping her wrists tense and elbows locked to manage the stronger recoil. Both shots are good, hitting in almost exactly the same place, and the three mercenaries have no time to react as the tank ignites and a fireball engulfs them.

The ensuing blast is probably the final nail in the coffin for the already beat-down cantina, and Clarke dives for a nearby window as the force of the explosion starts making the walls around her creak ominously. There’s screams from her would-be captors as they’re caught in the flames, but Clarke spares them no sympathy as she tucks and rolls, kicking up sand as she leaps to her feet and starts sprinting.

The air is scorching hot at this time of day, with Elrood’s arid climate and two suns quickly making Clarke’s armor feel like a sweltering cage, its bright white color not doing much to alleviate it. The commotion and ensuing explosion has drawn a crowd, even here in the slummier part of the planet. Clarke grits her teeth and pulls the long, raggedy cloak tighter around her, despite the heat.

It’s really no place for a lone figure clad in Stormtrooper armor to be seen.

She knows she needs to find her way off-planet soon, because even though Elrood isn’t under Imperial control, she’s seen a few of their ships coming and going from the modest spaceport lately, and though it’s unlikely that they’re here specifically for her, it’s still getting a little too concerning to ignore.

She makes it back to the little abandoned hovel she’d found on the outskirts of the slums, and as soon as she slams the door behind her, she wrenches the helmet from her head, wincing a little bit as the coagulated blood makes it stick to her skin for a moment.

“Eugh,” she grimaces as she sees the mess inside the helmet. She’s gonna need to clean that out somehow. Not to mention she has to take care of the cut on her forehead. She heaves a sigh and drags her feet through the little two-room building, throwing the helmet and her carbine onto the bed as she passes it.

Despite its state of disrepair, the house is very much livable. It stands in the middle of a little cluster of three other houses of similar shape and size, and Clarke’s assumption is that it housed factory workers, once upon a time, based on the logo still emblazoned on the doors. When she’d tried to look up the name of the company, however, she’d found nothing. Most likely, the company had been bankrupted, and its houses left behind. The other three houses were stripped bare, and it’s anyone’s guess why one of them still held its furniture, but Clarke isn’t complaining. The bed, though obviously cheap, is miles better than anything she’s ever slept on. Certainly much better than the shitty beds back at the Imperial barracks. There’s even a little table, and a chair, and a washroom with a sink, hooked up to a water tank outside. It had been dry when Clarke first got there, but figuring out how it worked hadn’t been hard, and she’d bartered two barrels of water from the nearby cantina to fill it up.

Unfortunately, that cantina is the same one she blew up today.

“Nothing good lasts forever…” Clarke mutters to herself in the cloudy mirror. She turns the sink on and leans down, cupping her hands under the faucet to gather water before splashing it against her face to get rid of the blood. She does this twice and tries to move quickly; she can’t afford to waste water now that she doesn’t know when she’ll get more, and—

Something cold presses against the back of her neck. Clarke’s hands immediately shoot out to the sides and stay there.

“Up. Slowly,” a voice says, distorted as if filtering through the voice-box on a helmet much like her own. Clarke curses inwardly, realizing this is it, they’ve found her. “Keep your arms just like that.”

As the voice commands, Clarke slowly comes back up, straightening at the waist first, then her neck. She mournfully glances down at the water that’s disappearing into the sink from the still open faucet, then looks up into the mirror.

And realizes that the person who has the muzzle of a blaster pressed against her neck isn’t who she thinks at all; because it’s not the Imperials come to haul her ass back to the nearest base to beat the shit out of her and put her right back into a squadron.

It’s worse.

“Mandalorian,” she hisses, lips pulling back into a snarl as she sees the all-too recognizable helmet shape, and the silver gleam of beskar plating.

The helmeted head tilts, and Clarke swears she can read amusement despite the lack of facial features. “Stormtrooper,” the voice retorts calmly.

“I’m not a fucking Stormtrooper,” Clarke bites out.

“That’s funny.” The hand not holding the blaster raises and a padded knuckle raps against her shoulder guard once, mockingly. “Because I think you might be.”

Clarke tips her chin up and stares down her foe, hoping her glare is hitting wherever the eyes might be. “I found this. Took it off some idiot I killed.”

“Being an idiot must be contagious, then, because only an idiot would voluntarily run around in that if they are, indeed, not a fucking Stormtrooper.”

Clarke opens her mouth, but whatever she’s about to say is drowned out by a rapid burst of blaster fire, and both of them immediately whirl away from each other, pressing flat against the wall by the door, each on either side of the opening.

“Oh come on!” Clarke shouts as she spots the very thing she was expecting when she was first accosted in her bathroom; that all to familiar white armor, as well as a gray uniform.

“Of course you have backup,” the Mandalorian grumbles, stowing the sidearm blaster and trading it for a much more formidable rifle hanging from their back, something surprisingly sleek though altogether vicious looking.

“Surround the house! We’ve found the deserter!”

Clarke can’t help but feel a surge of vindication as the Mandalorian’s helmet snaps to look at her, and she grins, despite herself. “Fucking told you.”

“Great. Just an idiot.”

Deciding that doesn’t really qualify for a response, Clarke sets her eyes on the carbine still leaning against her bed. “Cover me,” she says, and absolutely does not wait for any kind of confirmation before she dives through the doorway, towards the bed and her carbine.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, no covering fire is provided, though Clarke manages to snatch the carbine from the bed and drop into a low crouch behind the bed frame in spite of the uselessness of her new not-quite companion.

Undeterred, Clarke blindly fires a few shots over her shoulder, ignoring the painful jolt of the carbine’s kickback from firing one-handed as she glares back at the faceless figure. "Some help you are! I thought Mandalorians were good at fighting!" Clarke complains, and squeezes the trigger a few more times for good measure. A yelp of pain tells her she might have gotten in a lucky hit, and there's more shouting from outside as the sound of the small unit regrouping can be heard. It buys her enough time to scramble back to her original position, next to the Mandalorian that seems perfectly content to let Clarke do all the hard work around here.

Fuck, and the fucking sink is still running.

Having grown up around faceless comrades, heads encased in white plastoid for the majority of their time spent together, Clarke is plenty used to relying on body language to discern emotion. Which is why it's so frustrating that she can't quite seem to get a read on this person, no, this woman, Clarke is pretty sure. Normally, she's not so bothered by not being able to see someone's eyes, hell, she prefers it most of the time. But now, she is irked by the fact that she has no idea where this annoyingly cocky bounty hunter is looking.

"And why would I help you, exactly?" The Mandalorian drawls. "You're clearly more trouble than you're worth."

Clarke grits her teeth at the unexpected ice-cold rush that courses through her chest and down into her stomach at the words. It's certainly not the first time she's heard almost this exact phrase, and while there's absolutely no reason it should hit her so hard, coming from a perfect stranger that had a blaster to her head a few minutes ago and knows absolutely nothing about her, it triggers painful memories, starkly reminding her of just why she's even on the run in the first place. All the things she's done that still weren't enough.

She fights down the unease and fixes the Mandalorian with an unimpressed look. "That officer out there has already reported back that a Mandalorian has been seen with me. Even if you leave me to get captured, you'll be a loose end, and the Empire does not leave loose ends. They'll start flagging ships in the spaceport looking for yours, and haul you in without a second thought. You're not getting off this planet now."

There is a subtle flex in the gloved hands where they wrap around the blaster rifle. The tiniest crack in the wall. Clarke is almost certain that they are now staring each other down, heedless of the smattering of blaster fire and shouting from outside.

"This isn't making me less tempted to shoot you," the Mandalorian says finally, and Clarke tips her chin up defiantly, feeling victory within her grasp.

"That'd make you the idiot then, because you need me. If you want to get past their sensors, you need someone who knows how to fool them. I do."

There's a beat of silence. Then two. Then, without any warning, the Mandalorian surges out of cover and has kicked open the front door and is in the middle of the fray faster than Clarke can blink. Clarke watches, jaw slack, as she moves forward, completely ignoring the hail of blaster fire that goes completely wide. With a powerful roll of one shoulder, the carbine in her hands is hefted and then three precise shots ring out, ventilating three Stormtrooper helmets in short order.

Without a second's hesitation, the Mandalorian strides towards the last man standing; the officer who is now fumbling for the small blaster sidearm he has forgone from drawing in favor of yelling orders instead. He stumbles backwards just as the Mandalorian raises her arm, and two wires shoot out from the grappling device strapped to her wrist.

With a sharp yank of her arm and a show of strength that Clarke was wholly unprepared for, the officer is pulled through the air and collides with an awaiting fist. The crack of a beskar reinforced gauntlet against his jaw echoes off the walls, and he slumps like a bag of space debris.

A high-pitched whistling noise, the wires retract back into the wrist grapple, and the helmeted head turns to look directly at Clarke as the carbine is smoothly exchanged for the sidearm again, and Clarke feels the eyes on her as two shots are fired directly into the unconscious officer's chest.

There is absolute silence for several moments as they stare at each other. Clarke has no idea what the face underneath that helmet is doing, and she honestly isn’t sure what expression her own face is wearing at the moment. There’s a non-zero chance it’s some form of wide-eyed awe.

Still. They can’t stand here staring at each other.

“Where’s your ship?” Clarke asks, with more courage than she’s feeling.

Heaving a full-body sigh, the Mandalorian steps over the dead officer. “C’mon. But if you bleed all over my seats we’re gonna have a problem.”

#clexa #clexa fanfic #thanks again for letting me yoink this prompt!#also does it count as a clexa fic if i legit never mention lexa's name even once?#it's her under the helmet i swear #they're gonna tell each other their names at some point for sure

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happy-beeeps · 4 months ago

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No Really I Can

Summary: You're a schoolteacher, and you've developed a little bit of a crush on the new dad in class.

Pairing: Din x reader

WC: 1.6k

Warnings: alcohol use!

It’s quiet when he enters, only the mild hum of chatter between your students recapping their recent days off. It’s a sound you’ve learned to work through, scrolling through your data pad to look at their recent homework—drawings of their family.

You almost don’t notice him enter, until that mild hum stops all together. One of your students, Twyla, a quiet Deverronian girl, speaks first. “It’s him.”

The Mandalorian moves through the desk with the practiced ease of a mercenary. The baby behind him, not so much. You vaguely remember seeing him with a small bundle strapped to his chest in the few times you’ve seen him in the market, but you hadn’t made out the shape of the child until now.

“Students! We’re going to get started soon, please open up your data pads and take a look at today’s system.” They oblige, you have a good group, and the Mandalorian stops at your desk. “How can I help you?”

He’s quiet at first, then hoists the child up in his arms so he’s level with your desk. “This is Grogu, I think I’m supposed to sign him up for school.”

“It’s nice to meet you Grogu,” you murmur, voice quiet. He smiles and coos in response, and you can feel the heavy gaze of the Mandalorian on you. “Where is he at, schooling wise.”

“He had a… specialized education.”

“Okay, what languages does he speak? He may have to be transferred to the droid-led class.”

“He doesn’t, not really.”

“Do you speak Mando’a at home?”

There’s a heavy pause before he continues, “no, no we don’t. He doesn’t speak at all. But he listens.”

You smile at Grogu, and reach out to pat his hand. “I work with students of all ability, his speaking is not necessary to his learning, or to his being a good student.” You motion to reach for him, and the Mandalorian obliges. He’s heavy in your arms, but warms up to you instantly, and you know in your heart it’s going to be hard to keep yourself from loving this little guy. “Pickup is in five hours. Magistrate Karga has donated datapads to all the students, so he’ll get to take one home today. It’s time to say goodbye for now.”

He’s deliberate with his movements, holding the child’s hands before pressing his forehead to Grogu’s. He’s out the door before you can speak, and you realize you never got his name.

* * *

Grogu is a funny kid, he’s emotive and quick to respond. He loves to draw, and you can tell he listens intently to his classmates, like he’s wise beyond his years. You teach a wide age of students, and he feels quickly in line with his younger classmates, but your older kids are easily including him, picking him up and carrying him to recess. You determine there’s a few things about his special education that his father neglected to mention, especially when you notice the ball your students are playing with seemingly levitate to Grogu.

And his father. Your mind lingers on him now, nursing a martini in the cantina. He’s been respectful, kind, patient every day at drop off and pick up. He’s quiet, but not shy. Closed off, you’d guess. He asks after you every morning, and on the last day before the week break he’d brought you caf. It was black, lacking the creams and sugars of your usual order, but the thought was there. The silver vessel is still in your bag, admittedly sending a flutter through your chest when you hear it rattle against your things.

“Are you even listening to me?” Your friend asks, eyes rolling as she watches the dizzy look in your eyes.

“Sorry, just thinking about work.”

“Sure…” she says slyly, knowing all too well what that dazed expression means. “Oh, don’t look now, but the Mandalorian just walked in.”

You whip around at near lightspeed, ignoring your friend’s smooth that she murmurs under her breath. He’s here, he really is. You’ve seen him here maybe once before, and in fact he had Grogu with him, huddled against his chest while he and Karga were tucked away at a booth in the back of the room, chatting easily.

“He’s walking over here, maker, what did you do.”

“Nothing!” You shout as quietly as possible, doing your very best to nonchalantly fix your hair, your face, literally anything you can get your hands on.

She’s quick to read you, “Ah, I should’ve asked who you did.”

He’s at the table before you can respond, words dropping off your tongue as you look at him.

You’ve never been this close to him, his thighs nearly pressing against the edge of the table you’re at. He’s so large, commanding, and it sends a blush to you to think about.

“Grogu’s teacher, right?”

“It’s me, do I look that different out of the classroom?”

He’s quiet, then responds, “You look relaxed. Happy.”

You move to answer, but your friend beats you to it, “Well, I was just leaving,” she pats your arm as she stands up, “get home safe now, okay.”

You don’t miss her wink as she leaves the bar.

“I’m sorry about her-“

“Can I buy you a drink?”

You speak at the same time, and you blink in response to his question. “Absolutely.”

He’s back at your table quickly with a new martini, and you’re kicking yourself for ordering such a heavy drink. He slides into the seat and sets it down in front of you.

“Where’s yours?”

Reclining back in his chair, the answer comes to you as soon as he speaks it. “I don’t. Not here, anyway.”

Right. The helmet. “So, what brings you to a bar?”

“You.”

It’s spoken so simply it catches you off guard, and you cough on your drink.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” if you knew him better you’d say he’s embarrassed, “I just wanted to get to know you.”

You smile, and take another sip. “I’d like that.”

He moves the napkin around in front of him awkwardly, and you realize how out of place he looks in a place like this. “What’s your name? Your first name.”

You tell him, and he repeats it back, as if he’s tasting it on his mouth. The intimate way he whispers it has your blush creeping back. “Can I ask yours?”

“I’m not used to telling people,”

“Oh, I’m sorry you don’t have to.”

“It’s Din. Din Djarin.” He replies quickly, as if you gave him no hesitation.

“Din.” It’s your turn now, to turn his name over in your mouth. “Grogu is a great kid.”

“He is. He’s with Karga now actually, he loves him.”

“Doesn’t surprise me, he’s hard not to love.” You’re quiet, taking another sip, “can I ask why you just now decided to enroll him in school.”

“We’ve been… touch and go lately. Wasn’t sure where we’d end up. I’ve never really been in one place for long.”

“Mandalorian thing?”

He chuckles, “Me thing.”

“I get it. Everyone here came here for a reason. People are only just starting to move here for fun.”

“Can I ask what brought you here?”

You shrug, “The empire, same as everyone else. Actually, I got here right after you left, if I gather all the stories about you correctly.”

“Oh, theres stories about me?” He’s teasing, his voice dipping into a joke.

“Hundreds,” you smirk at him over your glass, “that you’re secretly a Wookiee, that you’re a cold blooded killer, that you have more guns than friends.”

He’s silent, and moves to trace a finger around the bottom of your glass. “Only one of those things isn’t true.”

A chill runs up your spine, but not out of fear, though you know it should be. “Can I ask which?”

“Nope,” he nearly pops the ‘p’, and leans back in his chair, “where’s the fun in that?”

* * *

You’re tanked when you leave. You’ve never been more grateful, or more embarrassed when Din helps you home. “S’sorry. Not normally like this.” You slid against him, and he merely places his other hand on yours, grasping onto his bicep like it’s your last hope.

“Don’t be sorry. I’m the one who bought you them, if anything it’s on me.”

You should be terrified, but Din is nothing but a gentleman while you talk his ear off on the walk back. He laughs when something is funny, and nudges your shoulder when you tease him. Still. You should be terrified. You remember the day the pirates came to Nevarro, remember the way he had defeated them all by himself.

You’re at your door quicker than you’d like, and you’re leaning on him while you fumble for your door code.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” he replies, hand tracing down your arm.

“Was this a date?”

He doesn’t answer at first, then asks you, “Do you want it to be?”

“Yes please.”

He chuckles, “Then call it our first.”

“I don’t do this, just so you know.”

“Do what?”

“Date all the hot dads at school.”

“I don’t either.”

“Date all the hot dads?”

“No,” but he pauses to laugh, a true uninhibited laugh. “Date. At all.”

The door clicks open, and you pat the cheek of his helmet. “S’okay. I can teach you.”

You enter your apartment before he can respond, and the door slides shut with a hiss. You’re struck like a university student again, leaning against the door. Your brain is telling you to run, to date some boring, normal. But you can’t, you won't.

Your last thought before slumping into bed, makeup and all is simple.

I can fix him.

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #din x reader #din djarin imagine #the mandalorian #the mandolorian x reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandolarian

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horsemenoftheapocalypse-if · 1 year ago

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(First ever collaboration IF between the Author of King's Despair and Dragon's Edged.)

Writer's Links: Dragon's Edged & King's Despair

(Warning: 18+ The story includes the following: Violence, , self-doubt, cliché’s, child abuse, torture, trauma and many more will be added in the future.)

Kroz&Author

"Greetings, Reader!

You are about to enter a world of darkness, danger, and deception.

A world where a child has been sold to the most powerful underworld company known as the Fates. A world where you will have to make life-or-death decisions for them. This is not a typical story of an orphan or a survivor.

This is a story of a child who has to learn how to kill, lie, and manipulate in order to survive in the dark side of New York City. A city where crime never sleeps and where the Fates control everything from the shadows.

You are not just a passive observer of this story. You are an active participant. You are the voice, the intuition, the gut feeling of the child protagonist. You will have to guide them through their trials and tribulations, their choices and consequences, their victories and defeats. But be careful, Reader.

The Fates are watching your every move. They have plans for you and the child. Plans that may not end well for either of you.

Are you ready to take on this challenge, Reader? Are you ready to face the Fates? Reader I beckon you to join them on this extraordinary adventure, where danger lurks at every turn, and the stakes are unimaginably high.

Through your unwavering presence, you will empower our young hero to face their fears, outsmart their enemies, and ultimately shape their own destiny.

Prepare yourself for a thrilling and immersive experience. Brace for the adrenaline-pumping encounters, the unexpected alliances, and the heart-wrenching decisions that will test the limits of our protagonist's resilience.

The fate of our young protagonist lies in your hands. Choose wisely, for their life depends on it. Decided are we?

Then come closer, and let me tell you more about this story…"

Introduction:

You were a kid, was a kid, now your a cold-blooded killing machine.

Dispensing justice and vengeance using your guns and knives. A modern robin hood you ask? Nope your not wearing any leotard pants or cap.

You're a merciless executioner, killing anyone who crosses your way. But underneath all that bloodshed and brutality, you still have a soft spot for kids.

It all started when you were taken by a prolific assassin, who decided to make you his protege. Armed with guns and knives, he taught you how to kill, track and hunt. But there was one rule that he made you live by, "No children, we never hurt them". That code fueled your respect for the man.

Through rigorous training, you became an expert in sharpshooting, knife throwing, and stealth. You even surpassed the master assassin, becoming the leader of your own hit squad. Together you and him started cleaning the streets from drugs, hoodlums, pimps and mafias. That made you a hero to the poor and downtrodden. But you were known by the authorities as a murderer and vigilante.

Despite all the havoc you reaped, you kept your code. Whenever you had a child captive, you would send them back to their families or orphanage. But one day, rumors of a powerful entity known as "The Fate's" were spreading they deal with guns, prostitution, alcohol, guns for hire, and mercenaries.

It was said that they're the Top Dog of the black market, the consigners of death and terrorisms. You know because your were one of the victims in their child trafficking business.

Now it's up to you to take down "The Fates", the only problem is that you couldn't seem to find any hard evidence against them. It was rumored that they cover their tracks so meticulously.

Until one day a member of their organization was sent to the hit list.

The client? The Fates their selves wanting to kill one their own. Yet there is one problem, your just still a rookie under the eyes of your teacher and he's not getting any younger.

"We need you to get a team and a back-up plan," your mentor said. "To get to The Fates, we need to be ready for everything they throw at us."

Despite his worring tone, you were confident that you can end this once and for all.

Now it's up to the great assassin and their protege, to bring the dark side of the world to light and serve justice to those who deserve it.

"It's time, kiddo," he smirked as he patted your back. "You've proven yourself more than ready for what's ahead, you will be leading this team but under my supervision of course!"

This was an exciting step towards finally taking down the Fates. With your mentor and you leading the team, you were sure it will be successful. After all, this was his legacy, and you will be a part of it. Together, you and him gathered a group of skilled mercenaries, sharpshooters, and information brokers.

You knew it wasn't going to be an easy mission. The Fates were known for their ruthless methods and their underhand tactics. To take them down, you needed to be able to outsmart them.

But this wasn't a rite of passage or even a battle of egos. This was a race against time, a race to save countless souls like you, who were trapped and used for the Fates' twisted plans.

Elizabeth Baker, The Rider of Death

"Appearances can be deceiving. I don't have to be gentle with my words to save your life."

She was once a respected doctor at a prestigious hospital, admired by colleagues and loved by patients. Her passion for saving lives and talent for surgery were well-known. However, everything changed when she uncovered the hospital's dark truth. They were charging exorbitant fees while using second-hand equipment and expired drugs. The medical director was involved in a corruption scheme, siphoning off millions of dollars.

When Elizabeth confronted him, he responded with threats and violence. In self-defense, she accidentally killed him with a scalpel. Fleeing the scene, she left behind her career and reputation, going into hiding. In the underworld, she became a freelance doctor, offering services to criminals and outcasts.

Operating in secret locations, she used whatever tools and resources she could find. Her prices were high, but she maintained high standards. Morality and legality didn't matter to her clients as long as they paid well and respected her rules. With a sharp tongue and a cold heart, she became the most sought-after doctor in the underworld.

Over time, her skills grew, and she began performing complex procedures like organ transplants and limb replacements. You and your mentor have made countless deals with Death, even cheating him a few times, so you know how to handle someone like her.

Nate O'Neil, The Rider Of Conquest

"The beauty of an explosion's light surpasses that of a sunrise!"

Nate is an unpredictable force within the group. He excels at causing explosions and demolishing obstacles, making him the go-to person for such tasks. Nate embodies chaos and has a twisted love for destruction.

Recklessness defines Nate. He thrives in dangerous situations, embracing the adrenaline rush that comes with each explosive endeavor. With a devil-may-care attitude, he charges into any situation, leaving destruction in his wake. His disregard for personal safety often leaves his comrades on edge, unsure of what he might do next.

Nate's passion for pyrotechnics is unmatched. He finds beauty in the chaos and destruction that fire brings, taking pleasure in watching things go up in flames. His eyes light up at explosions, and his laughter echoes through the chaos as he revels in the fiery spectacle. He is a true pyromaniac, using the world as his canvas to paint with flames.

But Nate is not just a reckless demolition expert; he is also the life of the party. With his larger-than-life personality, he fills the room with infectious energy. His boisterous laughter and dark jokes keep everyone entertained, even in dire circumstances. Nate can turn any situation into a comedy show, ensuring there is never a dull moment.

He possesses an innate talent for determining the right amount of explosive power needed to achieve the desired result, whether it's breaching a secure facility or creating a distraction with a chaotic firework display.

Nate is also one of the most loyal members of the group. He always has their back, regardless of the situation. He willingly puts himself in harm's way to protect his comrades and will fight fiercely for them if necessary. His bravery knows no bounds, and while his recklessness can sometimes lead to trouble, it is ultimately his heroic actions that make him the beloved daredevil he is today. Nate O'Neil is a wild card, a dynamo of destruction, and the heart of humor in the group. He reminds everyone that even in the darkest times, laughter and explosions can still exist, and he is always ready to ignite excitement wherever he goes.

Haley Jones, The Rider Of Famine

"When I look through the scope, all I see is you."

Haley, a Texan country girl, was born and raised on a ranch. She had a fiery spirit and a talent for precision. While she was no stranger to hard work and the thrill of the open fields, it was the touch of cold metal and the weight of a sniper rifle that truly ignited her passion.

From a young age, Haley displayed an uncanny talent for marksmanship. Her ability to hit headshots with unwavering accuracy earned her the title of the best sniper in her town's academy. Instead of pursuing a military career, Haley chose to become an assassin, targeting key figures who committed heinous acts.

Haley's movements were as precise as her shots. She never missed a target and always completed her missions efficiently. Her sass and flirtatiousness added to the mystique that surrounded her. She often used her curves to distract opponents, giving her time to get into optimal shooting position. People said that if you heard Haley's rifle, it was already too late - you had been marked and there was no escaping your fate.

Despite being an elite assassin, Haley never lost sight of her roots. She took pride in her Texan heritage and maintained a strong work ethic. After every assignment, she would return home to the ranch to decompress from the chaos. Among familiar faces, she would tend to the fields or go horseback riding, finding solace in the simplicity of her upbringing.

David Garcia, The Rider Of War

"I don't engage in meaningless conversations. Prove your worth or go away."

David is a mysterious and versatile individual. In private, he is quiet and reserved, preferring simple communication. However, during missions, he surprises even his closest allies with his various personas.

David is quick-witted and can easily become a charismatic trickster. With his clever wordplay and silver tongue, he can turn the tide of a battle without using force.

Flirtation comes naturally to David, and he uses it to manipulate and gather information. It's hard to determine his true intentions when encountering him.

Regardless of the roles he assumes, David is always dedicated to completing his missions. He will do whatever it takes to accomplish his tasks, whether it's infiltrating an enemy stronghold or uncovering a sinister plot.

#adult fiction #authors of tumblr #fiction #if game #if recs #if wip #interactive fiction #interactive game #interactive novel #interactive story #original writing #twine game #twine if #twine wip

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yoonia · 9 months ago

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the bedroom hymns ● chapter xiv

⟶ Chapter summary | To answer your curiosity, Yoongi presents you with a challenging offer. Is your desire to learn about this new realm and his secrets strong enough for you to risk revealing your own secrets? Or will you remain loyal to the promise you made to your father to protect the family’s secret?

⟶ Title | The Bedroom Hymns: a Bluebeard’s twist ⟶ Pairings | Min Yoongi x female reader ⟶ Genre | Fairy Prince!Yoongi, Crown Princess!reader, Fantasy AU, Fairy Tale retelling ⟶ Word count | 6,785 words ⟶ Ratings | PG-13, +18 / M for Mature for future chapters; include classism, black magic, alcohol consumption ⟶ Story Masterlist: The Bedroom Hymns | ⤎ previous chapter | next chapter ⇢ ⟶ Main Masterlist | Mailbox | Taglist | Feedback | Music Playlist | Ko-fi ⟶ Author’s note | Here’s the second part of what was meant to be a part of the previous chapter. I hope this answers a lot of questions. Have fun reading!

chapter xiv. red strings-2

You fall silent as you feel a slight drop in your stomach.

You should have expected that he would demand a fair trade right away. If only you have had enough time to figure out what to say, to plan just how much you are able to share about yourself without having to lie to his face should he chooses to answer your questions with honest truth.

Taking a slow drink from your glass, you take your time to contemplate your options. “Maybe—” you slowly begin, “I can tell you a little bit about myself for a fair exchange.”

Yoongi squints his eyes. There seems to be a hint of suspicions in the way he is looking at you. At first, he says nothing. Not a single response to your offer. Perhaps he can already tell that you wouldn’t be able to give him everything that he might be demanding from you.

It makes you feel discouraged when you think that he may change his mind and you won’t be getting some answers. But Yoongi surprises you when he suddenly shrugs and smiles.

“Very well, then. I guess that’s fair,” he says, though you cannot really make out the tone of his voice, or if he’s still going to be truthful when he hums, “Where do I start?”

Yoongi says this while slowly rubbing his chin. “Well, I suppose that you know who I am by now,” he finally begins, his eyes showing a playful glint which only helps lessen your worries and doubts.

“Do I?” you question him in return, mirroring the playful tone of his voice. “We’ve only met once before this, putting aside the other times when you shadowed my movements. I know your name, and I know that you are a part of one of the most notorious brotherhood of mercenaries known within the continent. But I had assumed that your men have only been roaming the human realm. But here you are now.”

Yoongi’s lips rise slowly to a crooked grin. “That is quite an interesting part to note, isn’t it?,“ leaning forward once again, he places his crossed arms on the table to get closer to you. “And I’m not talking about us meeting in different realms, but the fact that I never specifically told you to which brotherhood I am belonged to, when I could’ve been a part of any mercenary group that is currently active among the people,” he calmly drawls, while your eyes grow wide, realising your blunder. “And yet, you were able to recognise the insignia that belongs to our brotherhood and figured out that I am a part of it.”

Silently laughing at yourself, you realise that he is right.

Yoongi had never once mentioned the name of the mercenary army group that he is a part of, and yet, he has never once tried to deny it whenever you brought it up. Both in the market town and here, you have yet to see Yoongi wearing the insignia that belongs to the brotherhood.

But there is no denying that everything about him had made it easy for you to link him to the mercenary group which is known to be moving among the commoners, both within the territories of your father’s empire, and also in various neighbouring territories.

Not to mention, each time you lay your eyes on Yoongi, you would be reminded of the nameless mercenary who had caught your presence that night in The Rare Roots; his demeanour, the way he carries himself, his speech, and the most defining characteristic that you have felt from him so far, his aura.

“I’ve told you that I’m no damsel,” is what you tell him in return, hinting at his connection to the aforementioned mercenary group. “In almost every place that I’ve traveled to, I’ve either met some of your men, your brothers in arms, or seen traces and trails left behind by your brotherhood.”

In this case, you are not entirely lying to him. This is something that you have caught on during your excursions as of late. Aside from learning more about your father’s activities in the various places that you have visited so far, you have also been following the trails left behind by the mercenary army by using everything that you have learned from Advisor Kim and the Royal guards’ reports.

You recall seeing the insignia in various places in the midst of your excursions, either worn by a passing member of the mercenary army or plastered on the walls, pillars, and any other places visible for the commoners to see; a public declaration to show that the brotherhood are on the people’s side and not the royals’.

“You have made quite a name among the people, no matter which kingdom or empire you have come across,” you add while tipping your chin at the engraved insignia, “I never expected that I’d be seeing that crest here too, in a completely different realm.”

You lean forward on the table, mirroring his gesture as you murmur softly to him, “It wasn’t hard to put two and two together after what we talked about the last time we met, but you were the one who gave it away when you denied none of the things I said about you being a part of that movement.”

A surprised look flickers through his gaze. “You are a smart one, little dove,” he says, completely amused. “As I’ve said before. I shouldn’t have underestimated you.”

You lean back in your seat, feeling victorious. “No, you shouldn’t have.”

He mirrors your movement as he settles back in his chair, except that he follows it by lifting his shimmering tankard, taking a swift drink before he speaks again. Once the drink is lowered, a determined look fills his eyes, as if talking about this would require him to take off the mask that he normally wears when he is with you.

You can tell the difference when he looks at you straight in the eyes, his chin lifted, and there is a different flair coming from him. A new sense of authority that would have been intimidating should a commoner stand right before him.

Not you, however, when you have grown used to facing something similar, a presence that feels more intense, whenever you have to come face to face with your father.

“You’re right. I am a part of the brotherhood. I can’t tell you more other than the fact that I work alongside my brothers to serve the people who are willing to hire our service and pay for our hard work with gold. Be it a local merchant, a commoner, or a nobble, we serve them with everything that we have for an exchange of a good pay,” he says, sounding proud, subtly hinting that he may have quite an important role in his brotherhood of mercenaries that he is keeping from you, “as for crossing the borders between the realms—”

He tugs at the bamboo hat that he has been wearing and starts taking it off. “Not every men who had joined the brotherhood would be capable of moving from one realm to another so easily,” he explains as he tosses his hat away. For some reason, the gesture draws your attention, and you find yourself getting completely fixated on it that you can’t take your eyes away from him.

“Only a handful of us had come from the magic realms, most of us coming from various territories within the Land of Far Far Away, while the other members who had later joined us once we started the movement are regular humans, mostly commoners from the human realm who we encountered in our journey and volunteered to join our purpose.”

You can almost picture the mercenary army growing steadily in size with the passing time, reaching all the common people directly than the royal aids of your father’s empire ever could. “And that purpose would be gaining gold coins from whoever is willing to pay for your service?”

But is that all there is to it?

You cannot help but wonder, unable to truly believe that it could all be that simple, when almost every men working under your father’s ruling has believed otherwise. The memory of your past conversation with one of your father’s Royal Advisors return to you. About the mercenary army that was suspected to be a part of the rebellion movement which has been silently rising among the people of Nythelean Empire.

“That is correct,” he says, “well, that’s mostly the reason why we do this for a living. But there are also others who have their own purposes in joining our movement.”

You tilt your head, finding this suspicious. Your shoulders grow tense, your spine feels cold. “What kind of—purposes?” you ask him, while your mind begins running wildly.

Does he really have nothing to do with the rebellion? Or is his brotherhood truly the rebel army as suspected by the Royal Guards?

While you are looking at him with suspicions, Yoongi carries with him an easy air, as if he has nothing dark or sinister to hide. He keeps the same light attitude when he answers, “Protection. The ability to protect their family, their hometown, their livelihood, to be able to defend against any crime and any physical threats—the kinds of harm that would always get overlooked because they were hurting the commoners and not the nobles with storages of gold coins—or any possible threats that may harm them and their family directly.”

A smile lifts on your lips as relief slowly washes over you. “So you’re vigilantes, doing all the work that the royal army working under the ruling of the kings and emperors couldn’t, is that what you’re saying?”

Yoongi barks out a laugh. “You can put it that way,” he says. “It’s more like a security work for the people. But we also provide a chance for the common people to rise and lend their strength.”

He takes another drink and continues, “Out there, in the small towns and settlements that are far out of reach from the empires and their law, there are commoners who had trained for their lives to serve as knights, only to fail from claiming their places in the knighthood because they had no noble blood or any high standing in the society. That’s where we come in, as we welcome them under our wings and give them a place to serve, to use their skills and put their training to good use.”

Good use. Those words sound like music to your ears. The kind of music that eases your worries. There is a hint of suspicions still lingering in your mind, yet you find yourself believing his words.

It’s almost as if you can feel it; the truth that his words carry with them, the genuine pride coming out through his voice when he speaks about the brotherhood that has been seen as the villains by the royals.

“And not all of them are capable of using magic or casting spells?” you choose to ask rather than sharing your doubts about the brotherhood. “Or whatever it is that you use to move between realms?”

Yoongi shakes his head. “Regular humans don’t know anything about magic. Even the ones who are able to cast powerful spells will not be able to travel across the realms so easily. Only the gifted ones can do it.”

“Like you do.”

He gives you a smile. “Like me.”

Once again, you tilt your head while you try to process all of this. “And all of the traveling has to do with your work in the mercenary? But why do you must venture through the human realm, when you could’ve had more chances here?” You take a quick glance around, once again being drawn to the vast farmland which spreads right before your eyes. “What kind of work are you doing here now?”

Yoongi licks his lips. The gesture steals your attention from his words, drawing a hint of warmth out of your skin. It is another new sensation that you have never felt before. But then again, never once had you ever felt so drawn to someone like this, not as much as how he has you drawn to him like a moth drawn to a flame.

“Why the human realm?” he repeats your question with a hum as he looks out towards the view. The faraway look in his eyes tells you that there is a story in there, before he simply answers, “It’s hard to explain, really.”

The corners of his eyes crease a little when he smiles. “I can’t say that it had all been a deliberate choice to raise an army of mercenaries out there in the human realm. I think you would be able to understand this, but it all started a long time ago, when I first came into the human realm in search of an adventure. We call it as ’soul-searching’, a personal mission that I had taken to venture far, far away from home to find my purpose in life.”

You return his smile just then, because you can understand him well enough, as you have been doing just the same thing. Going out to new places, stepping into foreign lands, all because your soul craved for a new adventure, to write a new story, and to be able to see the world.

“I never planned to stay long in the human realm, but then as more and more friends, other men and old colleagues left the magic realm to join me, we formed ourselves a small alliance to be able to have more means and reasons to remain in the human realm for a bit longer, while also find ways to give back to the people and the community that had welcomed us with open arms, despite never knowing who we were or where we came from. And then, one thing lead to another—”

“And your small group or adventurers become a rogue army working alongside the humans.”

“Once again, you are correct,” he answers with a proud smile. “As to why I am here, it’s the same reason why I’ve been to the places where you encountered me before. I’m doing the same kind of work that I did in Narlès, and similar to most of the work I’ve done back in Smotia”—one corner of his lips lifts to a grin—”like that day when I followed your trails at the royal winery.”

His gaze softens as you roll your eyes.

“We usually do the same details of work whenever we are hired by people in the human realm. But when it requires me to travel across the borders and return to this realm, the work varies,” he adds, this time with a hint of fierceness in his voice. Proud and bitterness mixing together. “And these jobs come with bigger risks. Hence the disguises and the hidden armoires. But I do earn bigger pay when I succeed.”

This has you raising your eyebrows. Curiosity comes through you as you take a closer look at his attire.

Dressed as a local commoner, he looks quite unassuming that he would be able to roam around without raising suspicions. Unlike back in Narlès when he had at least shown his weapons under and over his unmarked cloak and dark-coloured outfit, this time, you are sure that he has numerous weapons hidden under his simple clothes.

The same way you are hiding your golden dagger under your skirt, hidden from view but easy for you to reach whenever necessary.

“You’ve been to Smotia. This place might look similar, but it is still entirely different. Not only with the magic that exists here, but also with the people that resides in this place and their way of living,” he explains, his words mirroring every single thought you had about this place since you had first gotten here.

“There is a secret about this place that requires us to keep a close eye on the territory. A dark secret,” he says with a secretive smile. “But I’m sure that you’re used to something like this.”

You realise what he is hinting at. Once again, the past conversation you had with the farmers follows you. You bristle as you recall the warning that was given to you and how it had reminded you of home. Your old home, and the dark rumours that everyone whispered all the way into the palace’s walls.

“These stories have been passed around from one generation to another, and I’m sure most people who live in this place and have learned about the tales for a long time won’t even know whether or not these stories are real, or if they are nothing more but an urban legend told by the elders to keep everyone here safe and keep things in order.”

“Like the rumours that the people have been spreading in Smotia.”

Yoongi gives you a solemn nod. “Smotia isn’t the only place that holds a dark secret. This place, and many other places—kingdoms, empires, even the small, lawless towns and rogue settlements—all have their secrets. It doesn’t matter whether we are in the human realm, or right here, within the magic realm of Far Far Away. People loves to tell stories, dramatising any event that happened sometime in the past to make use of them to keep the younger ones in line.”

You are not entirely surprised to hear this. Old tales live among the people who still speak of them. They are the reason why local traditions and customs exist in the first place. But it is interesting to know that even in different realms, such thing still exists.

Yoongi continues to speak. “For those of us with magic skills or have enough mana to endure the magic present in places such as Grimm, we would travel to and fro and pay regular visits to such places. Not only for the purpose of running our mission or for hired jobs, but also in between our duties, just so we can be here to observe, to protect, and even to hunt—”

“Hunt…what?”

A pinch folds itself inside your chest. A myriad of scenarios start their callous plays inside your head; your father’s assassination attempt, the unmarked mercenary soldiers that followed you through the depths of the Elcester Forest, the attempts to infiltrate The Citadel.

“Anything that may cause any disturbances happening within the Land of Far Far Away. The small and invisible threats that always start from the most inconspicuous places. Being vigilant and moving under our own rule allow us to get closer to the sources before they rise rapidly to become a bigger threat to the entire realm,” Yoongi answers after a beat of silence and a whole round of wild imagination running through your head.

He gives an easy rise of his shoulders as it’s not a big deal. “Of course, we are only a small army roaming through a vast magical realm, where each territory, every strong empire within the realm have their own rules. Some kingdoms even cast their strong spells around their territories that won’t allow us to walk past their borders as easily as we would’ve liked. But we do what we can, keeping watch for the people that may be overlooked should any harm ever comes.”

Spells to keep people out of a territory?

Of course, you wonder to yourself as you start recalling everything that you have learned so far about the safety measures that an empire must abide to in order to keep its palaces, territories, and the people within safe.

You are also reminded of the action that your father had taken after the latest breach which happened at the main palace, and how the royal guards at the Stargrave Castle have been keeping the same tight security to make sure that the empire’s territory is secured from any possible threat while in the King’s absence.

It shouldn’t be much of a surprise to think that there would be kingdoms that would use magic and spells for protection. Knowing what you know now, you begin to wonder if your father had also done the same to increase the security at the empire’s territories. Surely, there had to be a reason why he had forbidden you from stepping out of the palace through the front gate.

Leaving you only relying on the magic portals to be able to step foot out of the palace whenever you need a chance to escape.

It should be a powerful spell then, you wonder to yourself as you imagine having a force of magic protecting the empire, making you wonder just how powerful the King’s magic truly is, or if he ever had help from the strongest mages in the empire.

Silently, you remind yourself to question about this to Lord Gordan the next time you sit with him to learn about royal defence or when you are sitting with Lady Laurel for your next magic lessons.

When he notices that you have no more questions to ask of him, Yoongi crosses his arms over his chest and turns the focus of the conversation on you. “Now, it’s your turn to tell me more about you, little dove,” he calmly says, keeping his eyes on you when he points out, “You’re no mere traveller.”

His words sound more like a statement instead of a question, and it shouldn’t surprise you that Yoongi would begin his digging into your secret by pointing out something that may have been quite obvious.

Keeping your voice steady, as your father’s voice once again echoes through your head to remind you about keeping your family’s secret, you give him a smile and stiffly nod. “No, I’m not.”

“And you can travel across the realms.”

Your heartbeat picks up. “Not that I’ve done this for a long time, nor am I an expert like yourself. And I’m not doing this for a noble purpose like you do,” you find yourself admitting to him, before deciding that perhaps you can share with him at least a part of your truth without revealing who you truly are.

“You have probably figured out by now where I initially came from,” you begin, and when Yoongi says nothing to respond to this, you simply continue, “The human realm has been the only home that I’ve known for as long as I can remember, even if I never got to truly see any other places in the human realm itself aside from the place where I lived.”

Yoongi immediately frowns at this. You can tell that he is surprised to hear this, and you can already guess that he probably wouldn’t like to hear what you are about to share with him next.

“I…was sheltered almost my entire life, kept from the world, hidden in the shadows”—being kept as a secret while you were caged within the palace’s walls—”so I would take every chance I could get, sometimes steal it, just to be able to see the world outside that I was never allowed to see. Before, all I could do was to slip out of my window to travel across the town, then the city, and then I’d venture into the secluded places where people wouldn’t be able to recognise me. A chance to escape and experience freedom.”

The more you reveal this part of yourself, Yoongi’s gaze seems to grow darker. It feels unsettling, yet comforting at the same time. Because it almost seems like he is enraged at your situation. That he is becoming angry—for you.

When had anyone ever felt this kind of concern for you?

You try to remember, before realising soon enough that not even your governess, Nanny Abigail, the closest person to you since your days back at The Citadel, had ever voiced her concern about you being sheltered and hidden from public view. If any, she seems to have always encouraged and supported the King with his decisions, while often convincing you that it would have been better to remain within the palace’s walls for your own safety.

Thinking about this makes you feel upset and bitter, so you quickly push these thoughts away, rather than allowing it to pester your thoughts when you should be enjoying this wonderful moment that you have with Yoongi.

“I might not like you in the sense of crossing the realms, because I have no control of it,” you allow a little more truth to come out. “As a matter of fact, I surprised myself when I arrived here. Never had I expected that I would find my way to a town where magic exists, when I had only been seeing these places through the books that I’ve been reading.”

As you laugh softly to your confession, Yoongi’s frown slowly fades as he curiously says. “You are not familiar with the magic realm.”

You shake your head. “No, I am not. Not yet, at least. Everything is new to me. I’m still learning,” you admit to him with a bashful smile. “I spend my time learning about magic and this realm through the books, never knowing that I might be able to get the chance to visit these places and learn about them directly.”

Yoongi’s expression seems to grow softer after hearing your words. “Is that the reason behind all these questions? All the curiosity that you always have with you?” he asks you, “All because you’ve never had the chance to see the world with your own two eyes, much less this realm we are in?”

Slowly, you nod your head. “I have so many questions but not many that could answer them,” you answer him with a deep exhale of breath, recalling the hours you spent digging into the books in the library only to never feel satisfied enough with what you have found.

Yoongi’s lips twitch to a grin. “And you expected me to answer them for you.”

“Maybe not all of them, but you are the one available right now for me to speak to,” you admit to him with a soft giggle, making him smile, as if the sound of your laughter pleases him. “And, now that I’ve shared all of this with you, as of now, you have become one of the limited people who knows about my secret.”

“I’m going to guess that there’s not a lot of people,” he says with a gentle voice, to which you answer with a nod while you solemnly keep the real answers in your head—

The truth is, you are the only one who actually knows about my secrets. The only one who knows that I’ve been traveling to different places. The only one who knows that I exist while the world revolves in blissful ignorance.

In your silence, Yoongi takes this moment to take a good look at your face while you are lost in deep thoughts. He seems to have found something in you when he murmurs to you softly, “You can sense my magic.”

His words catch you off-guard, but you try your best to control your emotions. “It’s not like I’ve learned how to use magic, or to even have it inside me at all,” you slowly admit to him while recalling your father’s words about magic, how it resides within you, passed down from his bloodline.

But you have never truly felt it, and your father never had the chance to show it to you or to teach you more about it before he had to leave the palace for his royal duty.

“But, I’ve learned how to sense them ever since I first arrived in this realm,” you continue, while Yoongi seems intrigued to hear this.

For some reason, you feel no guilt about sharing this with him. You just don’t feel like it would be particularly necessary to hide this, as this is a new ability that you have been honing through your afternoon lessons with Lady laurel and Lord Gordan, after all.

In fact, seeing his reaction, you suddenly start feeling hopeful that perhaps he can help you understand about this new ability that you have been gifted with yet still cannot understand, much less to wield it at your own will.

The ability to detect other mana or aura from your surroundings—be it on the places where you are at or within the people you are with.

This was said to be the first step of practising your own magic and sharpening your mana while you wait for your father to guide you through the rest. Of course, you haven’t started learning more than the basics, nothing but the theories and the principles behind it, yet you have secretly learned enough on your own to identify the magic that is present around you. And you have learned enough to recognise the energy that you can feel coming out of Yoongi.

And what you can sense from him has only been making you feel more curious about him. The strong pull that keeps drawing you to him. The essence of his magic—

Right at the same time, the same curiosity flickers through Yoongi’s gaze. “What do you sense from me when that happens?”

His question—and the way he says it—sounds surprisingly reassuring, and it prompts you into answering him truthfully.

“Serene. Otherworldly,” you start describing what you feel, recalling the tingling sensations that you felt upon sensing his magic, when you first realised that they were coming from him. “It feels comforting and intimidating at the same time. And quite—captivating, as if there is a strong pull coming from your magic that keeps drawing me in.”

Familiar.

Because it feels eerily similar to the magic that you have grown used to. Similar to the magic that you have been feeling coming from your father’s portals. The strong pull that you feel from Yoongi reminds you too much of the strong charm that sends you across various realms that you find in the magic doors, which often feels like invisible dust brushing at your skin that would sometimes linger with you long after you have stepped across the portal.

The first time you felt it while you were with him back at Narlès, you had chalked it up as having the portal’s magic lingering in your skin because of how different the weather was compared to home. Now, however, the moment you are back in Yoongi’s presence and feeling the same sensation all over again, you finally realise that it hadn’t been the case at all.

With tilted head, you take a good look at Yoongi, wondering why it is possible for him to have the kind of magic that seems to resemble your father’s. Through your lectures, you have learned that the type of magic that a person obtains may differ depending on the source of its powers, and would often differ according to where the person resides in or which empire they are from.

Just like the people within the sun empire that were said to be blessed by the sun itself, and the empires that were said to have claimed the blessings of the Moon and the Gods that are believed to reside in the sea.

Would it be possible that your father’s magic may have come from the same source as Yoongi’s?

Before you can figure out how to bring this up, Yoongi continues to speak, focusing on your magic as if he knows that you haven’t learned much about how special your ability truly is.

“For anyone who acquires the gift of magic or born with mana within them, they will be able to feel or sense it when magic exists around us. At least, most of us do,” he explains, smiling, while your mind flies back to the old farmer who may have felt your mana when you first met him. Then Yoongi surprises you when he adds, “But it takes a different kind of gift and talent to be able to recognise or identify someone else’s magic by sense alone.”

“And that’s something that you are incapable of.”

But I might.

Yoongi nods his head. “That must’ve been the reason why you were able to notice my presence while I was following you. It was my magic that you sensed when you couldn’t see me.”

You tilt your head, realising that he might have been right. And he may not have noticed that he had just solved one of the biggest mysteries that have been plaguing your thoughts as of late, when you could never explain to yourself the reason why you had always been able to sense Yoongi’s presence even before you could see him there.

“But I can tell you this—” he continues, “I can feel the mana within you. For me, it feels like an unrefined diamond, glowing inside you. Except that there is something that is shielding it, protecting it like a veil.”

A shield? It isn’t much of a surprise to hear that you have an unrefined mana, as you are still lacking in training. But to know that there is something protecting it is another matter. “But—how?”

Yoongi presses his lips together as if he is feeling unsure with his answer. “I wish I know,” he says with a regretful smile. “If I have to make a comparison, try to picture a door. A door that has been kept closed and locked so tightly that it would take an effort to open it. Right behind that closed door is your mana. That is how shielded your energy is.”

“So—you’re saying that if I want to be able to find my magic and use it, I have to open that door?” you question him, suddenly feeling light-headed and confused. Yet every word he is giving you makes sense.

Is that the reason why your tutors have refrained from teaching you magic, and had always insisted that you should wait for the return of the King?

“I supposed you can say that,” Yoongi says with a nod. “But that’s not all. I can tell that you also have magic all over you. Although it feels more like a protection spell that is meant for you, not for the mana you have inside you.”

Hearing this only leaves you feeling more confused. Until you finally remember the reactions you saw earlier from the farmers working on the field when they saw you walking away, as if they had just realised that you were there.

Thinking about this, you raise your eyebrows. “The kind of protection spell that may hide me even in plain sight?”

He stifles a smile as he says, “Something like that.” He also seems—proud, to see that you are able to figure it out before he can explain further.

“Yet you can’t recognise its form or where it came from,” you guess again, while Yoongi’s expression shifts when he stiffly nods.

“No, I’m afraid I can’t. The only thing that I can tell you is that it seems to have been placed on you instead of it developing naturally, because it feels entirely different compared to the mana flow I’m feeling from you. I can feel these two separate energies flowing both from within and around you as I’m sitting here with you.”

Sinking back in your seat, you say nothing to this, and choose to hide your expression as you take a hefty drink from your glass. For a while now, you have suspected that something like this may exist. That you may have some kind of magic surrounding you at times. It would only make a whole lot of sense of everything that you have been questioning and wondering about.

The fact that you have been able to escape the palace during the night without people noticing you, but only while you were right outside of the palace’s walls. Common people who would walk by without seeing you when you passed them in the streets, or the royal guards who would fail to notice you slipping through their tight patrol.

As if you were never there.

Instinctively, your hand finds your necklace that is hidden under your cloak, and you anxiously begin toying the gem with your fingers the way you always do when you are lost in deep thoughts and in need to focus.

You start thinking about all those nights you spent roaming the dark streets in Smotia and the afternoons you spent wandering away from the palace, recalling all the significant moments and events, to try and put all the pieces together. You have never have believed that you were a master of disguise, so skilful in hiding your identity that you managed to remain unnoticed during your trips to the outside world.

Unlike Yoongi, perhaps, who seems to be quite an expert if putting up disguises. He would no doubt be able to blend in with the locals with his disguises, avoiding unwanted attention that may put a risk to his duties.

Thinking about this now, the odd expression worn by the mercenary soldier that you met at The Rare Roots begins to make more sense. When he looked at you as if you had magically appeared right in front of him and he was completely caught off-guard that he had let his mask slip. And for some reason, you can almost see that same expression coming out of Yoongi as he is silently watching you—the cold, amused look coming out of his eyes, as if he is trying to solve a puzzle, or a mystery, and he would be able to find the answer by simply looking at your face.

More questions come to mind, and they slip out of you in soft whispers while you are trying to solve this mystery. “How is that possible?” you first ask yourself, before your gaze lands back on Yoongi who hasn’t said a word, giving you the chance to ruminate on this new revelation about yourself.

“If I am protected with a spell, like you said, how did you manage to notice me?” You just cannot help but wonder out loud.

Both in Narlès and here in Grimm, Yoongi has always been the one to find you first. Compared to how you would have had to approach someone and talk to them first to get them to notice you—just like the farmers you met earlier and the people you talked to on your previous excursions.

Just as you are waiting for him to respond, you catch Yoongi’s eyes as they move. A barely visible flicker that is so subtle that you would miss it if only you blink. And you are partially sure that his gaze has landed right at your necklace, at the fingers that are brushing against the golden embellishments securing the ruby pendant that seems to be reflecting the sunlight as you twirl it in your touch.

All of a sudden, a blurry image from your almost-forgotten dream comes back to you.

Yoongi’s eyes remind you of the pair of dark eyes drifting down to your collarbone, eyeing on the necklace that you were wearing even in your dreams. The deep voice that almost felt like a whisper, a murmur, when the man in your dream spoke of as if he had just gotten an answer to the riddle that he was so desperate to solve, “The necklace. Of course. I should’ve known.”

Carefully, you lower your hand, opting to take Yoongi’s attention away from the necklace. His curious gaze is starting to make you feel uncomfortable, too vulnerable, that even the necklace is starting to feel hot under his dark, perusing eyes.

“I might have a theory,” Yoongi begins as his eyes find yours again. This time, the look that he is giving you seems a bit more cautious. As if he is treading carefully through this, and you understand why when he says, “But I might have to show it to you to prove it, since it would mean using my magic to understand, and I can do that if you would allow me to.”

As he stops talking, you can almost hear the unspoken words that he is keeping to himself as he regards you with a smile. A silent promise that also becomes a challenge that he offers you in exchange of any secret that you may choose to share with him—

This secret I can reveal to you, as long as you are willing to reveal yours.

#yoongi scenario #k-vanity #btscreaturescoven #bangtanwhq #yoongi fanfic #yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #suga scenario #suga angst #suga fluff #yoongi x reader #suga x reader #bts fanfic #bts scenario #bts angst #bts fluff #bts x reader

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throneofsmut · 1 year ago

Text

Bound In Flames - Part 2

Eris Vanserra x Archeron-Sister-Reader || WC: 1.7k || Warnings: None

Summary: Feyre and her younger sister go hunting in the forest behind their family's cottage and go through life changing experiences.

****

The next morning Feyre and you made your way to the village square, the trampled snow coating the road into your village was speckled brown and black from horses and passing carts. Elain and Nesta clicked their tongues and complained under their breaths as we all trudged along. Causing both Feyre and you to roll your eyes. They only came in hopes of spending the money you’d get from the wolf fur and deer hide.

Elain let out a noise of disgust, making you look over your shoulder at her. She’d stepped in mud. . . well at least it looked like mud. Nesta's face was drawn in a grimace at her side, her eyes locked on Elain’s filthy boot.

“You know you didn't have to come.” You direct at both of them, now a couple steps ahead of them.

Nesta spoke for both of them—like always—“As if.” She scoffed, her eyes flitted between the back of your head and Elain’s boot.

“Feyre! Y/n! Help me!” Elain’s whines making Feyre and you stop.

Looking at each other before huffing out simultaneous breaths of annoyance. It was market day, which meant you might get a fair amount of coin for the pelts and here you are wasting time because Elain stepped in mud.

Feyre turned around and walked a couple steps back to where Nesta and Elain were, crossing her arms across her chest as she stood before Elain. You remained still where you stood a couple feet away. “What, Elain?”

She shook her filthy boot in front of her, “Clean it!”

“No.” Feyre turned back around, joining you where you were just watching your sisters unamused.

“Y/n, you help her!” Nesta insisted, now helping Elain to remain steady while standing on one foot.

“Hell no.”

You nudged Feyre, the both of you turning back around to continue making your way to the village square. Only making it a couple steps before Nesta spoke again, “Y/n--”.

But you cut her off before she could keep going, yelling over your shoulder, “Either keep up or go back home, your choice!”

Finally making it to the village square, Feyre and you stood looking around, assessing.

The cobbler and clothier you usually went to, locking eyes with both of you across the square from their separate stands. Then at the same time you both noticed a woman, a mercenary, to be exact. With eyes still on her, you leaned your head closer to Feyre, “She’d probably give us more coin than—”

“What are you two waiting for?” Nesta questioned, cutting you off. Elain and her now stood on either side of Feyre and you.

Feyre opened her mouth to tell them what you had suggested but quickly shut it as she was cut off.

“May thee immortal light shine upon thee sisters,” said the pale-robbed younger woman who was now standing directly in front of you.

Nesta and Elain clicked their tongues; Feyre and you stifled groans. Perfect. This is exactly what you need, the children of the blessed in town on market day, distracting and riling everyone up. So you did the only sensible thing, you grabbed Feyre’s arm pulling her along as you made your way past the woman, towards the mercenary, leaving the acolyte to argue with Nesta and Elain by her side. Not your problem—not right now.

Which is why you nodded at Elain before walking away, “We’ll meet you here in a hour.” You didn't give her a chance to respond before the two of you slipped away into the crowded square.

You approached the mercenary, the weapons on her—gleaming and wicked—were enough to make you stop two feet in front of her.

“I don't barter goods for my services,” she said, her voice clipped with an accent you'd never heard before. “I only accept coin.”

A few passing villagers tried their best to look disinterested in your conversation, especially as Feyre said, “Then you'll be out of luck in this sort of place.”

She was massive even sitting down. “What is your business with me, girls?” Even though she addressed both of you, her gaze was on you.

She could've been anywhere between five to ten years older than you, but you supposed you two looked like girls to her in your layers, gangly from hunger. “We have a wolf pelt and a deer hide for sale. I thought you might be interested in purchasing them.”

“You steal them?”

“No.” You held her stare. “We hunted them ourselves. I swear it.”

“How.” Not a question—a command.

So you told her how you brought them down, leaving out how you said a prayer for the wolf, and when you finished, she flicked a hand toward the satchel Feyre was wearing. “Let me see.” Feyre pulled out both carefully folded hides. “You weren't lying about the wolf’s size,” she murmured. “Doesn’t seem like a faerie, though.” She examined them with an expert eye, running her hands over and under. She named her price. You blinked once—but stifled the urge to blink twice. She was over paying—by a lot.

“Why?” You questioned.

She looked beyond you—past you. “I'm assuming those two girls watching from across the square are your sisters. You all have that brassy hair—” her eyes cut back to you. ”Except you. You don't really look like them and you all have that hungry look about you.” Of course, they were still trying their best to eavesdrop without being spotted.

“We don't need your pity.”

“No, but you need my money. The other vendors have been cheap all morning thanks to the zealots hanging out in the square.” She jerked her chin towards another child of the blessed who was now getting a rise out of a fruit vendor.

Feyre and you were still looking at the acolyte and vendor when the mercenary grabbed your hand and with the other reached into her coat, pulling out the coin purse and placing it into your now open palm. You held her gaze as she folded your fingers over the heavy coin purse. She gave you a small smile and nodded once which you reciprocated. “Thank you.”

She nodded once more before her eyes tracked movement behind you. Nesta and Elain—no doubt. Her eyes were still on them as she began to speak, “Word of advice, from one hunter to another. Be careful. Don't go deep into the woods, not even as far as you did for this—” she gestured down to the pelts in her lap. “There's been more and more fae attacks.”

You nodded, but felt Feyre stiffen beside you, “Thanks again.”

Both of you only made it a couple steps, before a hand clamped down on your forearm, you didn't have to look to know it was Nesta. “They're dangerous,” She hissed, her fingers digging into your arm as she continued to pull you away from the mercenary. Elain pulled Feyre away.

Feyre and you looked at each other before staring at Nesta for a moment, then Elain, who seemed to go pale. “Is there something we need to know?” Feyre questioned quietly.

You couldn't remember the last time Nesta tried to warn Feyre or you; about anything. Elain was really the only one she bothered trying to look after.

“They’re brutes, and will take any copper they can get, even if it's by force.”

Feyre and you glanced back at the mercenary, who was examining her new pelts. “She robbed you?” Your voice came out tight.

“Not her,” Elain murmured. “Some other one who passed through—”

“Why didn't you report him,” Feyre cut her off. “Or tell me.”

“What could you have done?” Nesta sneered. “Challenge him to a fight with your bow and arrows? And who in this sewer of a town would even care if we reported anything?”

“Why didn’t you tell me, then?” You asked quietly, coldly.

Nesta stared at you for a moment before finally answering your question, “Because you probably would’ve killed him and it was just a couple of coppers anyways.”

Narrowing your eyes at her, about to correct her, when someone caught your eye and you gave a tight smile. “Fey, your little friend is waiting for you.” She followed your gaze, nodding once at him—at Isaac.

“I’ll see you at home later," she said.

You nodded at her in understanding, “Be safe, coming back.” She nodded and walked towards the old barn where her and Isaac always met.

Reaching into your pocket, where the coin purse was, you pulled out two twenty-mark coppers, handing one to Elain and one to Nesta. “Get what you want,” then gesturing towards your family’s cottage, “then we’ll go back”, you said to your two older sisters.

The trek back was silent. Not that you minded, you were still thinking about what Feyre and the mercenary had said to you, that you were different.

Once the cottage came into view, you let Elain walk in first, grabbing Nesta’s arm to stop her. “What?” She arched a brow, her blue-gray eyes hard as they bore into you.

“You're right.”

Her brows furrowed, “Right about wha--”, but you cut her off.

“I would have killed that mercenary.” You breathed.

“I know, but it was only a couple of coppers.”

“No, you don’t know. I wouldn’t have killed him over the coppers. I would have killed him for hurting you and Elain.” You confessed and her eyes softened slightly almost imperceptibly. As Nesta looked at you as if she was seeing you for the first time. Really seeing you. “Now get inside, it's cold.”

Her eyes searched yours, for what you didn't know, but then wordlessly she stepped inside the cottage. And you followed in after her, going towards the stove to heat up some venison for dinner. Feyre came back just as you were plating it up and for once you all had a peaceful dinner—or as peaceful a dinner your family could have. After we all moved to gather around the fire, our father was dozing off in his chair, Nesta and Elain whispering to each other, Feyre braiding your hair, as you stared into the fire. Losing yourself in it, letting the flames relax you.

You figured this is as good a time as any to talk to Nesta about Tomas Mandray. Turning towards her, you opened your mouth to speak but there was a roar that half deafened you. And you sisters screamed as snow burst into the room and an enormous, growling shape appeared in the doorway.

For other parts: Bound In Flames Series Masterlist

part 1 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 part 9 part 10 part 11 part 12

Taglist: @historygeekqueen

*If you would like to be added to the taglist for this story or to my general taglist, please either reply to this post or send me a message.

#acotar fanfiction #eris vanserra #eris vanserra acotar #eris vanserra fanfic #eris vanserra smut #eris vanserra x reader #eris acotar #eris fanfic #eris smut #eris x reader #bound in flames #eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra x y/n #eris x you #eris x y/n

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