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comatosebunny09 · 1 year ago

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oral fixation | astarion a.

summary: he loves your lips. especially when they’re so eagerly wrapped around him. genre(s): erotica, romance warning(s): female anatomy described, oral fixation, face-fucking, bj, jealousy, possessiveness, bodily fluids, choking, cum-eating, brief dacryphilia, explicit language, alcohol and tobacco use (hookah), blood drinking now playing: criminal - taemin notes: please thank @nanaoise08squad for helping me write this! also, please let me know if i missed any warnings! hope you enjoy, lovelies! screenshot credit

Lips.

Your lips.

They’re his favorite—if anyone ever bothered to ask what he enjoys most about your body.

Well, other than the devastating clench of your pussy, of course.

They’re pillow-soft. Thick. Flushed like rose petals. Cute when they’re pulled into that warm smile.

Alluring, stretched into a thin line as you glare at your enemies.

Exquisite, stained with blood and bruises and split—he can’t help wanting to lick them whenever he sets his eyes on them, even in the heat of battle.

Perfect and sweltering, curled around him. Dribbling with globs of spit and pre-spend as you take him down your throat. His favorite of all. And those pretty, garbled sounds you release when he presses deeper, testing your gag reflexes, amplifies his love for them.

Your sinfully gorgeous lips.

Gods.

Astarion bites his lip, threatening to draw blood.

He observes you through the wispy haze of tobacco smoke staining the lounge, trained on every twitch and spasm of your mouth beneath the dulled lighting. Every smile, every scowl. Every dart of your tongue from betwixt them, chasing wine that glides down the corners.

Your tongue leaves a sheen of saliva in its wake. Astarion swallows thickly. Unconsciously flashes back to how you make his cock gleam like that. Glistening and flushed an angry red when you release him with a lewd pop after swallowing him down like a fucking pro.

Astarion shudders, his eyes rolling into the backs of their sockets. His fingernails pull at the plush, crimson cushions beneath him, a groan trying to make itself known.

You’ll be the death of him; he’s sure of it.

Astarion sulks, swirling the contents of his goblet, brows weighed down in the middle by something like irritation.

You’re doing this on purpose. Enticing him. Vexing him. Your eyes occasionally find him across the lounge. Twinkle with mischief below bowed lashes before flitting back to your company. Company he wishes would piss off.

He can think of better ways to occupy your mouth that don’t involve meaningless conversation.

However, everyone’s gathered around you to celebrate the famed Hero of Baldur’s Gate. Despite Astarion’s protests, you insisted on staying.

You are a beacon of hope. An idol perched on a plinth, the Madonna della Pietà. Who would he be to steal you away from your adoring fans?

He just wishes his trousers weren’t so unbearably tight. Wishes he wasn’t straining against the seam of them, throbbing and pulsing with beads of pre-cum staining the thick material. Plagued by memories of the beautiful sounds he evokes from your mouth instead of your airy laughter filling his head once again.

Astarion crosses his legs with a petulant sigh and shoves a pillow onto his lap to mask his growing need. Quietly simmers, downing what remains in his cup. He swipes the back of his hand across his chin to clean up errant dribbles of wine, uncaring of how unsightly he must appear.

He’s in no mood for pleasantries. No mood to entertain others, waving off the belly dancers who try vainly to charm him with the wind of their hips. He’s too busy boring holes into the arm draped about your shoulders—one of your fans getting a little too cozy.

If looks could kill, he would’ve murdered this imbecile a thousand times over.

His vision glosses red when the man’s thumb swipes at the corner of your lips under the pretense of cleaning off some wine.

“There you go, lass,” he murmurs, the rough pad of his thumb grazing your chin. “Good as new. And still just as pretty.”

There’s no mistaking the gleam in his eye. The lecherous cant of his lips. A look Astarion knows all too well, having pinned you with it so many times himself.

You chuckle something tense, finding Astarion’s gaze through the discord.

Astarion moves on instinct. Soundless as a panther, pushing through the harem of dancers that had gathered around him. Parts through the revelers assembled at your feet, and they look up at him with varying degrees of alarm.

With an abrasive sound pinched from his lungs, Astarion plucks you from the settee with a possessive hand encircling your wrist. Murmurs a curt excuse us, daring the man who touched you to protest with a predatory glare over his shoulder.

The hairs of your neck stand ramrod stiff. A pleasant, cooling sensation pools in your belly. Trickles southward into your underwear, and you throb.

You do so love it when he gets like this. Green-eyed and seething.

You bid the other patrons farewell, unable to disguise the sinister arc of your lips. Toddle behind your beloved, your body still buzzing from the wine, your head still spinning from the nicotine. Astarion finally tugs you beneath layers of sheer, burgundy curtains, far from the grasp of the lounge’s other clients.

“Astarion,” you gasp as the world twists around you, and he pulls your stumbling, giggling self before him.

You’ve hardly any time to admire your surroundings, the swell of sound from the longue muddled and blotted out by the clipped growl rumbling in Astarion’s chest.

You only have the gleam of his irises and the flash of his teeth as warnings before you tumble backward onto a mass of pillows, shoved into them by your beloved. You clamber to your elbows, breaths labored, pupils dilated. Again, you’re pushed into the satiny cushions as Astarion crawls overtop, fingers winding around your jaw and neck to hold you in place for him to ravage you.

He slots himself between your legs, and it’s like he’s always been there. Feasts on your mouth, pushing past the barrier of your teeth in pursuit of your tongue, thumb pressing against your larynx. He pours the most relieved sound between your lips when he finds it. Entices it into an ardent dance, and Gods, you’re so warm and wet here. He can’t help how he bears down, hips rolling like waves licking the shoreline as he presses against the stitching of your breeches.

You moan in tandem, and the air punches from your lungs, the heels of your feet digging into his back as you twine your legs around his waist.

His other hand pulls and bunches up your clothing in search of the supple glide of your skin. Groans something satisfied when the hardened pads of his fingertips find the xylophone of your rib cage, easing upward. He grazes the underside of your breast, and he kneads and rolls your nipple with slow, meticulous circles, luring the prettiest little whine from your throat.

“Astarion,” you recite, clawing at the bindings of his breeches. It’s the sweetest supplication to his ears to hear you begging so wantonly for him. To see he isn’t the only one who missed the hot press of your body to his.

He abandons your mouth to blister your neck with kisses, fangs nipping at your clavicle, thumbs cruising down the dip of your stomach in search of your hips whilst you arch your back. He sighs around your nipple when your soft hands close around the head of his cock, tugging and squeezing, your thumbs generous as they spread pre-spend around him. Instinctively, Astarion ruts into the scorching clasp of your hands, breathing hot against your flesh, rolling your other nipple between lithe fingers.

It’s almost embarrassing how desperately he yearns for you. How he leaks and whimpers while you fist him, and his canines sink into the doughy flesh of your tit, pulling a yelp from your mouth. He licks over the wounds in apology, hips pinning your waist to the floor. He’s dizzied and overwhelmed, and the wind of your waist isn’t helping matters.

The succulent tang of your blood provokes his tastebuds, and his hips paint a rhythm of their own volition as he pistons against you. He glances up whilst your head crashes into the pillows, your lips glistening and parting with a breath, and your lids shuttered against the wave of ecstasy sifting through your spine.

“Astarion,” you breathe, pulling so nicely on his cock. Swallow. “Astarion, please. My mouth. Need, I—you…want you in my mouth.”

How sweet you sound, begging for your mouth to be stretched wide and violated. The jumble of your words is endearing. Usually, Astarion would tease you for your impatience. But he hasn’t the tolerance to, having gone without your lips sucking him in for days.

Astarion pants, scrambling to his knees, straddling your shoulders, and tugging his breeches down, down, down until his impressive girth springs free of its confines. It slaps intimidatingly against his abdominals, a pretty, gossamer string of pre dribbling from the slit towards your chin, and his cock twitches at your eagerness.

There’s reverence in your stare. Hunger as your mouth opens and closes, and your perfect body squirms beneath him, anticipation lancing through you. You squeeze your thighs together to ward off the delicious, sparkling rush of endorphins collecting between them.

You watch as Astarion handles himself, his hand swallowing up the bulk of his cock whilst he pumps himself, head thrown back, the tendons of his neck flexing.

He groans something feral and desperate, his cock grinding against the hot, sticky pucker of your lips.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “Fuck, darling. Open your mouth. Now.”

He spares you a few more stuttered rolls of his pelvis. Taps the turgid flesh of his cock against your tongue before feeding the swollen, sensitive head between your lips.

“Oh, Gods,” Astarion sighs. Draws back, his body shivering as your mouth releases him with an obscene pop. You flitter your tongue over the slit, chasing the briny edge of pre-cum.

He peers down at you through furled lashes, irises smoldering like liquid spilled over hot coals. He chuckles something breathy, easing back into the hot suction of your mouth.

“Eager, aren’t we, darling?” he husks. Cheeky as he drives himself deeper until your jaw clicks, your eyes roll back, and your whimper vibrates around him.

Your pussy clenches, and you undulate your hips off the floor. Grip the taut globes of Astarion’s ass, urging him further inside until he agitates your gag reflexes.

Your throat constricts around him, a fist-like vice that brings him barreling forward onto his hands. And he’s a pretty, panting mess hovering over you, alabaster curls falling over his eyes, sweat gliding down the tips, brows creased in anguish.

He gives you minimal time to adjust before taking a fistful of your hair and pinning it to the pillows, keeping you in place so he can fuck into your mouth.

Slowly, he draws his hips backward until only the head rests on the palate of your tongue. You whine petulantly before Astarion pushes back in, building a steady tempo thereafter, your lips stretching so wonderfully to accommodate him each time.

His mouth forms around silent ohs. Breaths choppy as he fucks your face, and saliva meddled with pre-spend bubbles on your cheeks.

Your eyes gloss over with tears, your throat rubbed raw, jaw aching. But you squeeze his ass ever tighter, urging him to use you. To chase that cresting wave of pleasure. You could die like this, with his cock distending your throat and your pussy weeping and begging to be stuffed.

“Gods, fuck, fuck, fuck,” chants your lover. His hips stutter, and his cock throbs on your tongue, fingers gripping your hair in a way that’s almost bruising. You know he’s nearing his peak, and you take to kneading his weighted, tight balls to help steer him to the edge.

It takes but a few more thrusts into the opulent warmth of your mouth before he paints your throat in thick, syrupy steaks of white. He pushes a groan through clenched teeth, eyes screwed shut whilst he cranes his neck back, exhaling his release.

You choke, the hot rush of tears blistering your cheeks. But Astarion holds your mouth in place as you thoroughly milk him, dumping the last vestiges of his cum down your throat.

He slowly unsheathes himself. Crawls down to straddle your hips, petting through the riot of your hair and drawing your swollen mouth into an apologetic kiss. He tenderly entwines your tongues together, the briny tang of his cum coaxing a moan from him.

Astarion rolls onto his back beside you, giving you time to catch your breath. And with your lashes dewy and wet and your lips abused, you chuckle something satisfied. Astarion looks at you warily before laughing himself, seeking out your hand to lace your fingers together.

“I should make you jealous more often,” you muse once your laughter peters. You roll onto your side, propped on your elbow, cheek perched on your hand whilst you run your finger down the length of his arm. A cattish grin rounds your lips.

Astarion scoffs, avoiding your stare. “Jealous? Me?”

You give him a pointed look.

He flinches beneath the weight of your glare, a nervous smile twitching his lips. “Well…maybe just a little.”

You sit like this for a while longer, admiring the flutter of his lashes and the peachy hue of his cheeks. Finally, he breaks the comfortable silence, pinning you with a scarlet-spun gaze.

“We should go.” Astarion slowly sits up, a smirk taking residence on his lips as he tugs you into the circle of his arms. “I’ve much more in store for you, my love. Things I can’t be bothered to do…here.”

You shiver at the thought, boneless as your lover hauls you to your feet. You fix your clothes and hair as best you can before Astarion leads you back to the main lounge, twin smiles adorning your lips.

Astarion swings by the bar to drop some coin onto the counter to pay for your drinks. Catches the eye of the man who’d had his arm around you earlier, and his mind sparkles with a sinister idea.

He draws you against him, your breath coming out in a gasp before he takes possession of your cheeks and lures you into a soul-siphoning kiss. One of tongues and teeth and sloppiness, and you find your thighs rubbing together again to curb the insistent throb between them.

You whimper into his mouth, and Astarion fixes the man with a sinister look over your shoulder as he grips your ass and squeezes. Something of a warning, a threat.

Touch her again, and I’ll have your head on a pike.

masterlist

#astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x tav #astarion x female reader #astarion x female tav #astarion imagine #astarion smut #bg3 fanfiction #astarion fanfic #astarion

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gliphyartfan · 2 months ago

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It’s that’s time of year again folks! Another year over and a new one beginning!

To those who stuck to my blog, thanks for STILL finding my works worth reading!

@yanderelinkeduniverse @stars-for-thought @eternadreeblissa @imprisioned-in-the-hole @screaming-until-god-hears-me @crestfallenmermaidan @ice-cream-writes-stuff @linked-heroes

To those who are new to my blog, thanks for finding my works worth reading 🥰

You guys are the best and I treasure you lot greatly.

Now, as always let’s begin this final bit for the year to make way for the new year!

————

———

——

—

The dean’s office buzzed with excitement as invitations to the prestigious Martell Charity Gala were handed out to select students. (Y/n) was one of the lucky few. She stared at the sleek black and dark blue card embossed with silver lettering.

‘You are cordially invited to the annual Martell Charity Gala. This year’s theme is Midnight Elegance. Dress code: black and dark blue. Formal attire required. We hope to see you there.’

The invitation was beyond anything she’d ever dreamed of. Or anything she ever expected to happen to her.

Attending the gala meant mingling with the city’s elite, and maybe even a chance to network for any future career she chose at the end of her term at the college. The dean himself had handed her the invite, his smile unusually cheerful. “You’ve been a promising student, (Y/n).” Says the man who never even spoke to her before. “ This is a rare opportunity. Represent our school well.”

She didn’t notice the brief glance he shared with an unassuming man in the corner of the office as she left the room, a subtle nod exchanged.

——

(At a certain home base.)

——

“We all know this alliance with the Martells is a powder keg. They’re unpredictable, and Emilio doesn’t trust us any more than we trust him.”

The room was dimly lit, the only illumination coming from a single overhead light and the faint glow of the city skyline beyond the large windows. Around the long table each hero sat with an air of tension hanging over them.

Time sat at the head, his hands folded in front of him.

Twilight, having been the one to speak, leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his expression grim.

“That’s an understatement,” Warriors added, sitting up straight with his hands folded in front of him. “The only reason he agreed to this ‘partnership’ is because it’s been mutually beneficial. But if he thinks we’re a threat to his control, he won’t hesitate to strike first.”

Hyrule shifted nervously, glancing between the others. “Do you think he’ll actually try something tonight? At a public event?”

“It’s possible…” Time said, his voice calm but firm. “Emilio knows this gala is the perfect stage to send a message, it’s his stage after all, to either solidify his power or undermine ours. That’s why we can’t let our guard down.”

Four, seated quietly at the table, nodded. “If he does try something, it won’t be obvious. He’ll strike in a way that keeps his hands clean while making us look weak.”

Wild smirked, his arms resting on the table. “Then we make sure he doesn’t get the chance. If things go south, I’ll have a plan to cut off his escape routes.”

“And cause a scene?” Warriors snapped, glaring at him. “We can’t afford to look reckless tonight. This Gala is well known in this city. Our reputation is at stake just as much as theirs.”

“Reputation doesn’t matter if we’re dead.” Wild shot back.

“Enough.” Time interrupted, his sharp tone silencing the room. He looked around at each of them, his gaze steady and commanding. “This isn’t the time for bickering. Emilio’s greatest weapon is chaos. We need to be united, disciplined, and ready to act. Without drawing unnecessary attention.”

His piercing gaze moved from one man to the next, ensuring he had their attention before he spoke.

“The Martell family’s gala tomorrow is an opportunity.” Time began, his voice calm but firm. “They’re gathering their allies, consolidating power, and using the pretense of charity to solidify their influence in the city. This is our chance to remind them that their reach is not absolute.”

Warriors leaned forward, his arms crossed. “And how exactly do we plan to do that without starting an all-out war in the middle of a ballroom? They’ll have security everywhere.”

“We’re not here to make a spectacle,” Twilight interjected, his tone even. “This is about sending a message. Subtle but clear.”

“Subtle’s not exactly our specialty,” Wild muttered, smirking.

“We’ll manage.” Time said bluntly, cutting off any further quips. “Legend, Four, and Hyrule have already ensured we’ll be prepared to bypass the Martells’ security measures.” He gestured toward the cane by his side. “Their metal detectors won’t detect our weapons.”

Hyrule nodded, his usually bright demeanor subdued. “The enchantments on the wood will hold, but they’re not infallible. We’ll need to act quickly if it comes to a fight.”

“What about their allies?” Legend asked, his voice sharp. “It’s not just the Martells we’re dealing with. They’ve got half the city’s scum in their pocket, and you can bet some of them will be at that party.”

“That’s why we’re keeping our eyes open,” Time replied. “This isn’t just about the Martells. It’s about understanding the full scope of their operations. Who they’re working with, what their next moves are. information is just as valuable as action.”

Sky leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed thoughtfully. “What’s the endgame here? If we make our move too soon, we risk pushing them into retaliation. And if we wait too long, they’ll see us as weak.”

“They already see us as a threat,” Warriors said. “That’s why they’re inviting us to this gala in the first place. They’re making a show of strength.”

“And we’re here to remind them that we’re not afraid.” Twilight added.

“What about (Y/n)?” Wild asked suddenly, drawing the attention of the group. “She wanted to invite us to celebrate New years with her family.” Every one was quiet at that.

“…Does she even know about any of this?”

“She doesn’t know the specifics.” Time said, his voice softening slightly. “And she won’t be involved. The last thing we need is for her to become a target when our position is being challenged.”

“Keeping her out of this might be harder than you think.” Legend muttered. “She’s observant. If she figures out what we’re up to-“

“She won’t.” Time interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument. “We’ve kept her in the dark for a reason. This is not her world, and I intend to keep it that way.”

Wild exchanged a glance with Twilight, but neither said anything further.

As the conversation continued, the Chain began outlining their individual roles for the evening.

“Warriors and Twilight will be stationed near the entrances,” Time instructed. “You’ll monitor who comes and goes. Note anyone of interest and ensure no surprises.”

“Understood.” Warriors said, his expression serious.

“Sky, you’ll be mingling within the crowd with me,” Time continued. “Keep your ears open for any useful information. If anyone seems too eager to flaunt their alliances, take note. Wild will go undercover.”

Sky nodded, while Wild smirked. “I’m great at blending in.”

“Legend, and Hyrule,” Time said, turning to them. “You’ll be my backup. If things take a turn, we’ll need to act quickly and decisively.”

“And besides being with Sky, what will you do?” Warriors asked, his brow furrowed.

“I’ll handle Emilio Martell personally.” Time said. “If he thinks he can intimidate us into backing down, he’ll learn otherwise.”

The group was wrapping up their meeting when Sky frowned and gestured toward the table. “What about the alliance? Are we still trying to maintain it, or are we burning that bridge tonight?”

“The alliance is tenuous at best,” Time admitted. “If the opportunity arises to weaken their position without breaking our agreement, we take it. But if they cross the line—”

“We make sure they regret it.” Twilight finished, his tone cementing the decision.

The room fell silent as the weight of their mission settled over them. Each man understood the risks involved, but none of them wavered.

As they prepared to leave, Time glanced at them one last time. “This is a game of chess. Stay sharp, stay vigilant, and don’t make any moves you can’t defend.”

They nodded, each heading off to prepare for the night ahead. None of them realized that (Y/n)’s presence at the gala would throw their plans into chaos.

——

(Y/N) sat crosslegged on her bed, her laptop open to a collection of evening dresses she had been scrolling through for the past hour.

Around her, piles of her own clothes were scattered, a few dresses, skirts, and tops she had dragged out in a half hearted attempt to make something work.

Her best friends, Nic and Tess, lounged nearby, armed with snacks and opinions. Tess flipped through a fashion magazine, occasionally holding it up to show a dress she thought would work, while Nic leaned against the wall, his arms crossed and a skeptical look on his face.

“I don’t get why you’re even going to this thing,” Nic said, frowning. “Missing New Year’s with your family for some snobby party full of rich jerks? What’s the point?”

(Y/N) sighed, flopping back onto her bed. “The Dean basically cornered me into it. He said it’s a great opportunity for networking, and I could represent the college or something. Plus, he said the invitation was ‘special.’” She made air quotes.

Tess raised an eyebrow. “Special? Sounds suspicious.”

“I thought so too,” (Y/N) admitted, sitting up again. “But he made it sound like I’d be ungrateful if I didn’t go. And now I’m stuck trying to figure out what to wear when I could be at home with my family, watching movies and eating junk food.”

Nic snorted. “Yeah, sounds like a real ‘opportunity.’”

“Stop sulking, Nic.” Tess said, smirking. “If she’s going to go, we might as well make sure she looks amazing.”

(Y/N) groaned. “That’s the problem. The dress code is black and dark blue, and everything I’ve looked at is either ridiculously expensive or way too fancy for me.”

Tess tossed the magazine onto the bed and gestured to (Y/N)’s laptop. “Show me what you’ve found so far.”

(Y/N) pulled up a tab with a simple but elegant black dress, a knee length with a slight shimmer to the fabric and a modest V-neckline. “This one’s nice, but even the budget version is still kind of pricey.”

Tess nodded approvingly. “That’s actually pretty perfect. It’s simple, but with the right accessories, it’ll look classy.”

Nic squinted at the screen. “How much is it?”

(Y/N) winced. “More than I’d like to spend.”

“Ugh, fine,” Nic said, throwing his hands up. “I’ll chip in. But you owe me one.”

(Y/N) blinked in surprise. “You’d do that?”

“Of course,” Nic said, rolling his eyes. “I’m not going to let you show up to some hot shot event looking like you just rolled out of bed.”

Tess grinned. “Now we’re getting somewhere. Okay, we need shoes. Do you have anything that would work?”

(Y/N) got up and rummaged through her closet, pulling out a pair of black heels. “These?”

“Perfect,” Tess said. “Now jewelry. Do you have anything sparkly but not over the top?”

(Y/N) nodded, grabbing a simple silver pendant necklace her grandmother had given her. “…This?”

“Oooh~” Tess said. “It’s perfect.”

Nic sighed dramatically. “I can’t believe I’m sitting through this. I could be at home right now.”

(Y/N) laughed. “But you’re not and I love you for it Nic. I owe you big time.”

“Damn right you do.” he said, with a half hearted grumble.. “But seriously, you better make it worth it. If you’re going to miss New Year’s with your family, at least make sure you own the room.”

He paused and looked at Tess. “…and since when can you pick decent looking outfits?”

Tess cheerfully flipped him off as a response.

(Y/N) smiled, feeling a little less anxious about the event. “Thanks, guys. You’re the best.”

Tess waved a hand dismissively. “Just remember us little people when you’re flattering the rich boys.”

“Not likely.” (Y/N) said, grinning. “But I’ll try to survive the night without embarrassing myself.”

———

—-

——-

The ballroom was a sight of elegance.

Dark blue and black draped the high ceilings, lit by soft, golden chandeliers that cast a warm glow over the polished floors.

Guests were trickling in, dressed in sleek gowns and sharp suits, as waiters weaved through the crowd with trays of champagne flutes and hors d’oeuvres. The Martells, as always, spared no expense for their events.

The Chain arrived early, sharply dressed in tailored suits. Time, standing tall with his cane, led the group into the room. His expression was calm, blank, almost cold, but beneath the surface, his mind was cataloging every detail his eye took in.

Warriors adjusted the cufflinks on his dark blue suit, his eyes scanning the room for anything out of place. “The decorations scream ‘power play,’ but the crowd isn’t just Martells and their allies. Look, some of their enemies are here too.”

“Which are also OUR enemies.”

“Enemy of my enemy and all that?”

“ They’ve got a mixed hand tonight.”

“Not good�� Twilight said, his voice low. “But the more we know, the better.”

Sky walked close to Time. “I’ll keep an eye on the exits. If anything goes wrong, we’ll need a way out.”

“Wild,” Time said, glancing at him. “Mask up. We need you moving unseen.”

Wild nodded, slipping on the Stone Mask Time gave him. As soon as it settled on his face, Wild’s presence seemed to fade, even from his companions.

“Make a circuit around the room.” Time instructed. “Mark the exits, entrances, and anything unusual. Report back as soon as you have something.”

Without a word and two taps on Time’s shoulder, Wild slipped into the crowd, moving unnoticed even as he brushed past guests and waiters..

That was the cue for fhe Chain to subtl spread out, the tension between them was palpable. Hyrule stayed near the refreshments table, pretending to enjoy a drink as he scanned for any signs of trouble.

Warriors lingered near the dance floor, his sharp eyes watching the movements of the waitstaff and Martell associates.

Twilight leaned against a pillar near one of the exits, his stance relaxed but his senses sharp. “I don’t like this…” he muttered into the comms.

“No one does.” Time responded coolly. He stood near the center of the room, his cane in hand, glass of champagne in another, looking every bit like a guest enjoying the event and he smiled at Legend while they pretended to have a normal chat. “Focus. Stay sharp.”

Minutes passed, and then Wild’s voice crackled through their earpieces. “…We’ve got a problem.”

“What is it?” Warriors asked immediately.

Wild’s tone was unusually tense. “She’s here.”

There was a pause before Time’s measured voice cut through. “Who?”

“(Y/N).” Wild said, his voice more anxious this time. “She’s at the event.”

The Chain froze. The air seemed to thicken as the weight of Wild’s words sank in.

“What?” Twilight said sharply, his calm demeanor cracking.

“Are you sure?” Sky asked, his tone a mix of disbelief and concern.

Wild confirmed, “Positive. She’s here, and… she looks like a guest, not someone who wandered in. This isn’t an accident.”

Sky clenched his fists, trying to stay calm, but his attention shifted sharply as he spotted movement across the room. His eyes widening slightly when he saw a tall, dark-haired man in a perfectly tailored black suit approach (Y/N).

“It gets worse..” Sky muttered into the comms. “She’s being approached by Emilio Martell.”

The Chain’s tension snapped into a razor sharp focus.

———

—

———

(Y/N) stood near a small group of guests, nursing a flute of sparkling water as she tried to blend in. Her dress fit the event’s theme perfectly, but she still felt out of place. She glanced around, scanning the faces of the room, trying to distract herself from the dull ache of missing her family on New Year’s Eve.

“Miss (Y/N)..” came a smooth voice behind her.

She turned, startled to see a tall man with a confident smile and piercing green eyes. His presence was…attention grabbing, the kind of aura that drew you in whether you wanted it or not.

“I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.” he said, extending a hand. “Emilio Martell. Organizer of this years event. A pleasure to meet you.”

(Y/N) hesitated for a moment before shaking his hand. “(Y/N). Nice to meet you.”

“You must be a guest of honor,” Emilio said, his tone laced with charm. “You stand out in a room full of people trying very hard not to.”

(Y/N) gave a polite smile, unsure how to respond. “I’m.. actually here on behalf of my college. My Dean thought it would be a good opportunity. I’m surprised you know my name.”

Emilio’s smile widened. “A wise choice on his part. And I make it a point to know the names of my guests. Your presence certainly elevates the room.”

—-

——

Sky’s hands balled into fists as he watched Emilio speak to (Y/N). His posture stiffened, and his normally calm demeanor wavered. “We need to get her out of there,” he muttered.

“No sudden moves, Sky stand down.” Time said firmly. “We can’t tip our hand.”

“She doesn’t know who Emilio is.” Warriors said, his voice strained. “She doesn’t know she’s walking into a lion’s den. Who invited her here?”

“I aim to find out.” Legend growled under his breath as he tapped away at his phone, Wind and Four on the other line, watching though the cameras.

Twilight growled, his frustration barely contained. “We need a plan. Now.”

“We can’t draw attention.” Time said. His voice remained calm, but there was a cold edge to it. “Wild, stay on her. Legend, find a way to get closer without causing a scene. Everyone else, maintain your positions.”

The Chain knew they were on borrowed time. The stakes had just risen, and they couldn’t afford to make a single misstep, not when (Y/N) was now caught in the middle of this.

——

Emilio Martell’s charming smile never wavered as he continued speaking to (Y/N), his body language relaxed and confident. He was fully aware of the eyes on him. But it was no matter. Emilio thrived on this kind of tension, playing the predator circling his prey.

“You’ve been making an an excellent impression tonight.” he said to (Y/N), his voice low and smooth. “I’m sure your college will appreciate the effort. And what about you? Are you enjoying yourself?”

(Y/N) hesitated, glancing at the luxurious surroundings. She was still a little on edge, but Emilio’s casual attitude eemed to ease her nerves. “It’s a beautiful event…” she admitted with a sheepish smile. “A bit overwhelming, but… yes, I think I am.”

Emilio nodded, his smile widening. “I’m glad. It’s always a pleasure to meet someone with a genuine appreciation for the finer things.” He gestured toward the bar. “Can I get you something? A champagne? Perhaps something stronger?”

“No, thank you.” (Y/N) said politely. “I’m fine with sparkling water.”

“Ah, a woman of discipline,” Emilio said, his tone approving. “I respect that.”

From his position near one of the exits, Sky watched the interaction with barely contained anger. Emilio’s posture and expression were deceptively polite, but there was an undeniable undercurrent of smugness, as though he were mocking them with every word.

“Emilio knows,” Sky said into his comm, his tone tight. “He’s playing her to get at us. This isn’t a coincidence.”

“No,” Time responded coldly, his gaze locked on Emilio from across the room. “This is deliberate. He wanted us here, and now he’s using her as leverage.”

“Then why isn’t he doing anything yet?” Twilight asked. He was stationed at a nearby pillar, his sharp eyes scanning for any sign of Emilio’s associates.

“He’s baiting us,” Warriors said grimly. “Waiting for us to make the first move so he can claim innocence.”

“What’s the plan?” Wild’s voice came through, calm but edged with tension. He had taken a position near the shadows of the room, his presence still cloaked by the Stone Mask.

“Hold positions.” Time ordered. “We can’t act without exposing her connection to us. Sky, stay close but out of sight. Legend keep your bracelet at the ready, Wild, keep circling. Look for anything out of place.”

“And if he tries something?” Hyrule asked, his voice quiet but determined.

“He won’t get the chance.” Time replied calmly.

As (Y/N) tried to navigate the conversation, she felt the weight of Emilio’s attention growing heavier. He leaned in slightly, his tone dropping to something more intimate.

“You have an air about you,” Emilio said. “Something unique. People like you don’t go unnoticed in a place like this.”

(Y/N) offered a polite smile, her discomfort starting to creep back in. “I’m just here to represent my college. Nothing special.”

Emilio chuckled softly. “Don’t sell yourself short. A sharp mind and a beautiful face, those are rare qualities. But I imagine you already know that. Perhaps there is a position in one of my businesses that could use someone like you..”

Before (Y/N) could respond, another voice cut through the moment.

“Ah, Martell. Already charming the guests, I see.”

Time’s smooth, even tone drew Emilio’s attention. The older man approached with a casual gait, his cane tapping lightly against the polished floor. His expression was perfectly neutral, betraying nothing of the storm beneath.

Emilio straightened, his smile unfaltering. “And here I thought you were too busy inspecting the decor to join us, Signore Time.”

Time’s lips twitched in the faintest semblance of a polite smile. “One should always make time for old acquaintances.” His sharp eye flickered to (Y/N), and he added, “And new ones.”

(Y/N) brightened slightly at his familiar presence. “Time! I didn’t know you were here.”

“I couldn’t miss such a prestigious event, especially one I was invited to.” Time replied smoothly, his gaze briefly lingering on her before returning to Emilio. “And it seems you’ve already made an impression.”

Emilio’s smile tightened, just a fraction. “Your reputation precedes you, Signore Time. Always a man of observation.”

Time inclined his head, his grip tightening slightly on his cane. “And you’ve always been a man of theatrics. How… fitting.”

The subtle tension between the two men was palpable, though (Y/N) seemed blissfully unaware of the undercurrents. Distracted with the relief of someone familiar at the event with her.

Emilio continued, Wild’s voice came through the comms again.

“Martell’s got people,” he said quietly. “Two by the north exit, one near the bar. They’re watching Emilio closely.”

“Armed?” Warriors asked.

“Likely,” Wild confirmed. “And they’re not alone. There’s movement on the buildings across from this place, looks like snipers.”

Four’s voice came through the comms, cold. “Keep marking positions. We’re not moving until we know the full picture.”

—-

Emilio took a step closer to Time, his smile still intact but his eyes hardening. “This city is a place for opportunity, don’t you think? A place where alliances can thrive… or falter.”

Time didn’t react, his tone even. “Opportunity, like respect, is earned. Not bought with cheap theatrics.”

Emilio chuckled, though the humor didn’t reach his eyes. “And yet, it seems even you can’t resist a good show.”

Time met his gaze steadily, unflinching. “Let’s hope your finale doesn’t disappoint.”

The tension between them was thick enough to cut with a knife, but both men maintained their masks of civility.

As Emilio turned back to (Y/N), his charming smile returning, Sky took the chance to step closer, his presence calm but deliberate.

“Excuse me.” Sky said smoothly, his voice gentle but firm. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

(Y/N) turned, surprised but relieved to see him. “Sky! You’re here too?”

“I’m someone’s plus one tonight.” Sky replied, his gaze briefly flicking to Emilio before returning to (Y/N). “Would you mind if I borrowed you for a moment? I’d like to catch up if that’s alright with you Mr. martell?”

Emilio’s smile didn’t falter, but there was a flicker of annoyance in his eyes. “Of course. I wouldn’t want to monopolize her time.”

(Y/N) nodded. “Sure, Sky.”

Sky offered her his arm, and she took it, allowing him to gently guide her away. As they moved, Wind’s voice came through the comms.

“She’s safe for now, Sky has her.” he said. “But Emilio’s watching her closely. We need to wrap this up before he makes his move.”

——-

Emilio watched as Sky led (Y/N) away, his smile lingering for a moment longer before he turned his attention back to Time. The man before him was an enigma, always calm, always composed, and always a step ahead. Emilio had played these games with powerful men before, but there was something about “Signore Time” that unsettled him.

“Your associate seems quite protective,” Emilio remarked, his tone casual but his words carefully chosen.

Time’s one visible eye remained fixed on him, cold and calculating. “My associates are loyal. Loyalty is the foundation of any successful… endeavor, don’t you agree?”

Emilio’s smile tightened. “Of course. Loyalty, after all, is the currency of trust. But trust can be so fleeting, can’t it? Especially in our line of work.”

“Only for those who don’t know its value,” Time replied smoothly. He leaned lightly on his cane, the movement calculated to appear as a casual gesture. “Those who gamble with loyalty often find themselves alone when the stakes are highest.”

Emilio chuckled, though there was no humor in it. “Ah, but gambling can be so exhilarating, can’t it? The thrill of the unknown, the rush of risk… It’s what keeps us all moving forward.”

“Some might say it’s a fool’s game,” Time countered. “A fleeting pleasure for those who mistake recklessness for strength.”

Emilio tilted his head, feigning thoughtfulness. “And yet, even the most calculated plans can crumble under the weight of a single misstep. Tell me, Signore Time, do you ever wonder if your own calculations might one day fail you?”

Time’s lips curved into the faintest semblance of a smile. “I’ve learned to anticipate missteps. To anticipate possibilities of past, present and future. It’s why I’m still standing.” He paused, his tone lowering slightly. “But the same can’t be said for everyone, can it…Emilio?”

The subtle use of Emilio’s first name was not lost on the younger man, whose smile faltered ever so slightly before he quickly recovered. “Touché. You’ve always been… thorough. But thoroughness has its price. It must get exhausting, always watching, always waiting.”

“Not as exhausting as underestimating an opponent.” Time said, his tone icy. He tapped his cane lightly against the floor, the sound barely audible over the soft murmur of the gala. “Tell me, Emilio, do you ever wonder if your own gambles will come back to haunt you? Or do you prefer to ignore the debts you’ve accrued?”

Emilio’s smile grew sharper, his eyes narrowing. “Debts, Signore Time, are a necessary part of the game. It’s how you leverage them that determines your success. But then again, you’ve never been one to play by conventional rules, have you?”

“I’ve found conventional rules to be limiting. ” Time replied. “And fragile.” He stepped forward slightly, just enough to subtly impose his presence. “Unlike the alliances I forge, which are built to last.”

Emilio laughed lightly, though there was a tension in his posture now. “Well, I suppose that’s what sets you apart. A man of… permanence in a world that changes so quickly. It’s admirable, really.”

“Admiration is a fleeting thing,” Time said, his gaze unwavering. “I prefer respect. It holds more weight.”

Emilio held his gaze for a long moment, his smile thinning. “You’ve always been good at commanding respect, Signore Time. But I wonder… how long can one man hold the weight of it all before he crumbles?”

Time didn’t blink. His voice was calm, deliberate, and unyielding. “A man who stands alone might crumble. But a man who stands with those who are loyal to him? He becomes unshakable.”

The two men stood in silence for a moment, the tension between them palpable. Emilio’s smile remained, but his eyes betrayed the simmering frustration beneath the surface. Time, as always, was unmovable, his presence as solid and enduring as the name he had chosen for himself.

“Enjoy the evening, Signore Time,” Emilio said finally, his tone polite but edged with malice.

“I always do.” Time replied, his voice even. “And I trust you will as well. After all, tonight’s… festivities are just getting started.”

As Emilio turned and walked away, Time remained still, his grip on his cane tightening ever so slightly. The game had begun, and Time was already five moves ahead.

——

The gala was in full swing. Guests floated across the polished marble floor, their laughter and conversation a background to the string quartet playing softly in the corner. Yet, for those who knew the true purpose of the evening, the atmosphere was a mask stretched thin, ready to snap at the slightest poke.

Amidst the glittering gowns and tailored suits, the Chain moved like shadows. Twilight and Warriors blended seamlessly into the crowd, their sharp eyes scanning the room for potential threats. Hyrule lingered near a grand pillar, subtly marking the entrances and exits, while Wild, cloaked in the anonymity granted by his Stone Mask, wove unnoticed through the clusters of guests.

Through the comms, Wind’s voice cut through the quiet hum of tension. “Why do they get to hang out with her? I’m stuck doing recon! It’s not fair!”

“Wind,” Warriors replied curtly, his voice low and commanding, “focus on your task. She’s safer this way.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Wind muttered, clearly pouting. “Still sucks.”

Wild, unseen and unnoticed, chuckled softly through his channel. “Keep your eyes open, kid. We’ll make it up to you later.”

“Wild,” Time’s calm voice interrupted, laced with authority, “report.”

Wild’s tone shifted immediately. “Martell is making his rounds, but nothing actionable yet. I’ll keep tracking him.”

Time’s gaze flicked briefly toward the far end of the room, where Emilio Martell moved among the guests with practiced ease, his smile as polished as the cut crystal glasses in their hands. But his focus didn’t linger. He turned back to (Y/N), who stood beside him and Sky, her expression bright with a mix of curiosity and unease.

Time allowed himself a brief moment to savor her presence. Her dark blue dress, simple yet stunning, caught the light just enough to draw the eye without overwhelming, the intricate stitching along the hem whispering of elegance on a budget. Her (h/c) hair framed her face perfectly, and her eyes sparkled with the kind of sincerity that felt rare in a room filled with veiled intentions.

Sky leaned closer to her, his warm smile disarming. “You look incredible tonight, (Y/N). It’s no wonder you caught everyone’s attention.”

She blushed lightly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Thanks, but I feel a little out of place here. Everyone seems so… important.”

“You belong here as much as anyone.” Time assured her, his voice steady and grounding.

Her lips curved into a small smile, though doubt still lingered in her eyes. “Well, I wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for the Dean. It’s strange that he thought I’d fit in at something like this.”

Sky’s expression remained relaxed, though a flicker of unease passed between him and Time. “You’re more important than you realize.” Sky said softly, his words layered with a meaning she didn’t catch.

In the distance, Hyrule’s voice crackled softly through the comms. “Martell’s stopping near the auction stage. He’s speaking to someone, looks like one of the heads of the merchant syndicate.”

Twilight’s voice followed, low and steady. “No sudden moves. We’re not here to start anything unless it’s unavoidable.”

“Unavoidable might come faster than we think,” Warriors murmured. “Keep eyes on the entrances. If Martell’s expecting trouble, he’ll have a backup plan.”

Meanwhile, (Y/N) shifted slightly, her attention caught by a glittering chandelier overhead. “This place is incredible,” she said, her voice full of genuine awe. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Sky chuckled. “It does have a certain charm, doesn’t it?”

Time’s gaze remained fixed on her, his usual stoicism softening ever so slightly. “You have an eye for beauty.” he remarked.

She laughed lightly, shaking her head. “I think it’s just the novelty. I’m not used to this kind of… luxury.”

Through the comms, Wind groaned dramatically. “She’s so adorable, and I’m missing it! This is the worst.”

“Focus, Wind,” Warriors snapped.

“Fine.” Wind muttered, his voice laced with defeat.

Wild’s report cut through the moment. “Martell’s moving again. Heading toward the upper balcony.”

“Good,” Time said quietly. “Everyone, stay in position. Sky and I will keep her occupied. Wild, follow Martell but keep your distance.”

“Understood,” Wild replied, already moving.

As the Chain’s unseen web tightened around the room, Sky leaned closer to (Y/N), his voice low and playful. “So, what’s the verdict? Are you enjoying the party?”

She smiled up at him, her earlier unease momentarily forgotten. “Honestly, I think I’m more nervous than anything. But it’s… nice.”

Time’s hand rested lightly on the head of his cane, his ever watchful eye scanning the room even as he spoke. “As long as you’re with us, there’s nothing to be nervous about.”

Though she didn’t fully understand the depth of his words, (Y/N) found comfort in them, unaware of the storm brewing just beneath the surface.

——

Far away from the Gala, something odd began to happe.

The Chain’s main property had a vault hidden deep within its estate, a place no one besides the nine visited. This room held everything they had managed to hold on to from Hyrule: old weapons, tools, trinkets, and treasures with enough magic to make anyone in the modern world go pale. The storage was locked tight, enchanted by Hyrule, Legend, and Time to ensure no one but the Chain could enter.

The room was dim, the only light coming from faintly glowing runes etched into the walls and the edges of shelves. Everything in here had a history, everything had a use but tonight, one item decided to stir.

A small, nondescript pouch sat on a table, forgotten among the more dramatic relics. It didn’t look like much-just a plain, worn bag. But it twitched, the fabric shifting like it had something alive inside.

Then, the drawstring loosened on its own, and out rolled a small wooden carving. The figure landed lightly on the table, lying still for a moment before its smooth, carved head tilted slightly, as though waking up.

The carving was unmistakable: it was (Y/N), dressed in a blue tunic and trousers like a proper Hylian adventurer. The details were shockingly accurate, down to the tiny curls of her hair and the soft expression on her face.

The doll’s eyes glowed faintly, their light cutting through the dark room. Then came the sound, soft at first, like a faint giggle, playful and almost childlike.

It echoed, but it did not sound malicious. The doll twitched, its tiny arms shifting slightly as if it was trying to stretch. And then, a voice filled the room.

“Warmth…” the voice murmured, the word reverberating through the storage like a ripple in still water. “Home. Heart. Warmth is here.”

A translucent mist began to seep out of the doll, curling like smoke but with a faint glow that pulsed like a heartbeat. The mist swirled and rose, twisting as it moved toward the ceiling.

The voice spoke again, louder now, with a strange resonance that filled the room. “Warmth is near…will find it.”

The mist lingered for a moment, swirling around the wooden carving before shooting upward, slipping through the cracks of the ceiling and disappearing entirely. It moved with purpose, drawn by an invisible force.

the undeniable presence of its Warmth, its Home, its Heart.

Somewhere, far from the location, (Y/N) remained blissfully unaware of the being seeking her out, as it moved with desire to be ever closer to its source of warmth.

——

The Gala buzzed around them, a hum of conversation, clinking glasses, and soft music filling the air. But (Y/N) barely noticed any of it as she leaned slightly toward Sky and Time, the tension in her shoulders melting just a little.

“I’m just saying,” (Y/N) grumbled, crossing her arms, “the Dean could’ve picked literally anyone else. I don’t even know why he thought I’d be a good fit for this.” She sighed, glancing at her nearly untouched glass of champagne. “I should be home right now, watching cheesy countdown specials with my family and eating way too many snacks. Not… whatever this is.”

Sky smiled at her, a little softer than usual. “Maybe he just thought you’d represent the school well,” he offered, though there was an edge to his voice, like he didn’t buy it either.

“Doubt it,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “This is the same guy who got my name wrong at orientation. Twice. And now I’m here, dressed like someone I’m not, trying to smile at people who probably don’t even care if I’m alive.”

Time didn’t say much, but his presence was steady. He tilted his head slightly, letting her vent without interruption, his good eye focused on her like she was the only thing in the room worth paying attention to.

Suddenly, Four’s voice came through the comms in their ears, low but clear. “I’m already looking into the Dean.” he said. “No way this is just a coincidence.”

Sky and Time didn’t react outwardly, but they exchanged a quick glance.

“What’ve you got so far?” Time asked, his voice barely above a murmur as he turned his attention back to (Y/N), who was fiddling with her glass and muttering something about how dumb gala food was.

“Not much yet,” Four replied. “But the timing’s too perfect. The Martells pull this stunt, and she just happens to be invited? Nah, there’s more to it. I’ll keep digging.”

Sky nodded subtly, keeping his expression neutral for (Y/N)’s sake. “Keep us updated,” he said under his breath, before giving her a reassuring smile. “At least you look good.” he added lightly, hoping to cheer her up.

(Y/N) groaned, half-amused. “Yeah, well, this dress cost me an entire paycheck, and a debt to Nic, so I’d better.” She glanced down at the elegant-but simple-dark blue gown she’d managed to snag last-minute. “I still feel out of place.”

“You’re not,” Time said quietly, his voice carrying that calm authority that made it impossible to argue. “You belong here with us.”

(Y/N) blinked at him, a little thrown by his certainty, but she didn’t have the energy to argue. “If you say so…” she mumbled, though her lips quirked into a faint smile.

Meanwhile, through the comms, Wind’s voice piped up, loud and eager. “Are we done keeping out of sight yet? I wanna hang out with her too!”

Sky sighed, keeping his voice low. “Patience, kid. She’s in a good mood. Let’s not ruin it.”

“Easy for you to say,” Wind huffed. “I’m stuck back here like some kind of stalker.”

“Wind,” Four said flatly, “you are a stalker right now. Stay put.”

The Chain kept their focus tight, even as (Y/N) relaxed more, her complaints slowing. But the underlying tension in the room wasn’t lost on them.

The music eventually slowed, and the crowd’s murmurs hushed as Emilio stepped onto the stage. His smile was wide, charming, but there was something in his eyes that set every nerve in the Chain on edge. A single hand gesture brought the room’s attention to him like he was the star of the show.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Emilio began smoothly, holding a glass of champagne like he was about to propose a toast. “I want to thank you all for joining us tonight as we welcome a new year. A year full of opportunities, partnerships, and, of course… resolutions.”

The crowd chuckled politely. Time’s jaw tightened, his cane resting just slightly closer to his side.

Emilio’s smile sharpened, though his tone stayed light. “Now, as we move forward, let’s all remember: respect is key. Whether in business or… personal matters.” He let the words hang in the air for a beat too long. “After all, no empire, no matter how storied, lasts without mutual understanding.”

Sky stiffened beside (Y/N), his hand brushing against her back as if by accident. Time said nothing, his face unreadable, but (Y/N) noticed his grip tighten slightly on the cane.

Emilio raised his glass higher. “To a prosperous new year-for all of us.”

The crowd erupted in cheers, the clinking of glasses filling the room as the lights suddenly flickered and cut out, plunging the venue into darkness. Gasps and murmurs spread like wildfire.

“Stay close.” Time muttered, grabbing (Y/N)’s wrist with enough firmness to leave no room for argument.

“What’s happening?” she whispered, but before either of them could answer, Wild’s voice crackled through their comms.

“They’re moving in.” Wild said, his voice clipped and urgent. “Emilio’s men are storming the place. They’re heading straight for you, Time. You’ve got maybe thirty seconds.”

Sky was already moving, grabbing (Y/N) by the arm and guiding her with Time through the chaos of startled partygoers. His voice was low, but firm. “Keep your head down and follow us.”

(Y/N)’s heart raced, her breath catching as the noise around them grew louder-panicked whispers, the shuffling of feet, and something heavier, more deliberate in the distance. “What’s going on?” she hissed.

“Not now.” Time said sharply, his tone brooking no argument.

Sky’s grip tightened as he scanned the room, their path lit only by the faint glow of emergency lights near the exits. “Wild, where are they now?”

“Closing in fast. Four’s trying to block the north wing, but there’s too many.”

“Twilight?” Time asked, guiding (Y/N) through the crowd with precise movements.

“Already clearing the way out,” Twilight answered. “Just get her to safety.”

(Y/N)’s mind raced as she tried to piece together what was happening, but the sheer force of Time and Sky’s urgency kept her quiet.

—-

The crowd grew more frantic, murmurs turning into shouts as Emilio’s men pushed through, barking orders for people to move aside. The air was thick with tension, and (Y/N) could feel it like a weight pressing down on her chest. Time and Sky moved quickly, keeping her between them as Four’s voice came through the comms.

“Keep moving south. Wind and I cleared a path through the kitchens. Get her there now.”

“Understood.” Time muttered, his grip steady on (Y/N)’s arm.

The three weaved through the growing chaos, Emilio’s men shoving partygoers out of the way as they advanced. A few of the guests started screaming, the reality of the situation hitting them like a brick. Sky stepped up his pace, his hand briefly brushing (Y/N)’s back to guide her faster.

“Almost there,” Sky said lowly, his eyes darting to every shadow.

(Y/N) stumbled slightly, catching her balance before glaring at him. “What the hell is going on? Who are these guys?”

“Not now.” Time said again, his voice firm but not unkind.

“Of course not now,” she muttered. “It’s always ‘not now.’”

They slipped into the kitchens, the bright lights and sterile metal surfaces a stark contrast to the dim chaos outside. Wind was waiting near the door, waving them over impatiently.

“Took you long enough.” he said, shutting the door behind them and locking it. “This place is going to hell out there.”

“Thanks for the update,” Sky said dryly, turning to (Y/N). “Sorry about all this. You weren’t supposed to-”

“To what?” (Y/N) cut him off, throwing her hands in the air. “Get dragged into some shady mafia nonsense on New Year’s Eve? Yeah, I kinda figured this would happen the second Time decided to show up.” She crossed her arms, her glare switching to Time.

“I should’ve stayed home, eaten my weight in cookies, and fallen into a food coma watching bad movies.” She huffed. “But no, this had to happen because you, Mr. Mysterious Mafia Boss, decided to ruin my night.”

Sky stiffened, unsure how to respond, but Time-of all people-just smiled. It was sheepish but amused, like he wasn’t even going to try denying it.

“That’s fair.” Time said, his tone lighter than she expected.

(Y/N) blinked, caught off guard by his reaction. She stared at him, then threw up her hands again. “Okay, good. Glad we’re on the same page.”

“Does that mean you’ll forgive me?” Time asked, his tone teasing but sincere.

She narrowed her eyes. “Only if I make it out of this alive-and you owe me big time.”

Time chuckled softly, his one good eye crinkling with amusement. “Deal.”

“Uh, not to interrupt,” Wind said, gesturing to the door, “but we’ve got bigger problems heading this way. Might want to save the banter for later.”

Time nodded, his expression sobering instantly. “Wild, status?”

“Still busy,” Wild answered over the comms. “But Emilio’s men are splitting up. They know you’re not in the main hall anymore.”

“Perfect.” Sky muttered, checking his surroundings.

Time turned back to (Y/N), his voice softer this time. “Stay close. No matter what happens, we’ll get you out of here.”

(Y/N) sighed, her irritation giving way to nervousness as she nodded. “You better.”

“Don’t worry,” Sky added with a small smile. “We’ve got this.”

“Less talking, more moving!” Wind urged, leading them toward the far side of the kitchens. The faint sounds of heavy boots grew louder, and the group picked up their pace, hearts pounding in sync with the chaos outside.

—-

In the middle of the chaos, Warriors, Hyrule, and Twilight were like shadows slipping through the edges of the fray. Armed with their enchanted wooden weapons, they moved quickly and silently. The daggers and short swords, deceptively simple-looking, cut through Emilio’s men without a hint of hesitation.

“Stay quiet, stay fast,” Warriors muttered to Hyrule as he ducked low, slashing the back of a man’s legs before delivering a swift finishing blow. “We can’t let them regroup.”

“On it,” Hyrule replied, his dagger already sinking into another opponent’s side. His movements were light and precise, almost like he was dancing around the chaos.

Twilight moved alongside them, his short sword cutting a clean arc through the air. “These guys are persistent,” he said through gritted teeth, ducking a swing and jabbing his blade into a man’s chest.

“Yeah, well, they don’t know who they’re messing with,” Warriors shot back, deflecting a strike and kicking his attacker hard enough to send him sprawling.

Meanwhile, Legend was a blur of motion, merging into the walls like a ghost thanks to his bracelet. Every time Emilio’s men thought they had him cornered, he’d reappear behind them, striking with brutal efficiency before fading back into the stone.

“Gotta admit,” Legend muttered under his breath, stepping out of a wall to grab a man’s throat before slamming him to the ground, “this is kinda fun.” He disappeared again, only his faint laughter trailing behind as more of Emilio’s men fell.

Overhead, Wild perched in the shadows of a balcony, his bow drawn tight. He had his eyes on Emilio, watching as the man barked orders and rallied his remaining allies.

“Emilio’s sticking close to the west hall,” Wild said through the comms, notching an arrow tipped with a makeshift wooden head. “But he’s got a lot of backup.”

“Keep him pinned,” Time ordered back. “We’re handling things on this end.”

“Got it,” Wild replied, taking aim at a particularly loud ally of Emilio’s. He let the arrow fly, grinning when it hit its mark right between the man’s shoulders. The target dropped with a grunt, and Wild ducked lower, quickly nocking another arrow.

Another group of Emilio’s men was rushing toward the kitchens, and Wild couldn’t let them get too close. He took another shot, this time hitting a man in the leg, sending him sprawling and causing the group to scatter.

“They’re slowing down,” Wild said into the comms. “But Emilio’s not backing off. He’s sending more men your way.”

“We’ll handle it,” Warriors replied, his voice sharp as he slashed through another attacker. “Just keep him busy.”

“Don’t worry,” Wild said, a smirk in his voice. “I’ve got it covered.”

The Chain worked seamlessly, their movements efficient and purposeful, each strike calculated to thin the enemy ranks. Even in the chaos, they were perfectly in sync, and while Emilio’s men were persistent, they were no match for the skill and coordination of Hyrule’s finest.

In the middle of it all, Time’s calm voice cut through the comms. “No mistakes. Stay sharp. We’re not leaving until she’s safe.”

“Roger that,” Legend muttered, slipping back into the walls to finish off another target. The Chain pressed on, their only objective was making sure (y/n) was safe from this place.

The dimly lit kitchen was eerily quiet for a moment, the sounds of shouting and chaos muffled behind the thick walls. Sky and Wind stood near the doors, their weapons ready, while Time kept his cane in hand, standing protectively in front of (y/n).

“Stay close.” Time instructed, his voice calm but firm.

Before (y/n) could even nod, the door to the kitchen slammed open, and Emilio’s men poured in. Time moved without hesitation, swinging his cane with surprising force. The enchanted wood slammed into the first man’s chest, sending him sprawling into the counter.

Sky stepped forward, his sword cutting through the air with a clean precision that sent two more men staggering back. “Keep moving!” he shouted, his gaze darting to Wind.

Wind grinned, brandishing his dagger as he dashed forward, darting between two attackers and tripping one with a swift kick before driving his blade into the other’s arm. “Not so tough now, are ya?”

As the fight raged, another man appeared from the shadows, moving silently toward Time. The older man was focused on the two men in front of him, his cane spinning in fluid, powerful arcs.

The figure behind him raised a knife, his steps quiet…too quiet. Time didn’t notice.

But (y/n) did.

“Time!” she shouted, her voice shaking as adrenaline kicked in. Without thinking, she grabbed the nearest heavy object, a large iron pot from the stove, and rushed forward.

The man didn’t even have time to turn before (y/n) brought the pot down with all her strength.

CLANG!

The sound echoed through the kitchen as the man crumpled to the ground, the knife slipping from his hand. (y/n) stood there, panting and wide-eyed, the pot still gripped tightly in her hands.

Time turned, his visible eye widening briefly as he took in the scene. The would-be attacker lay unconscious at his feet, and behind him stood (y/n), looking more shocked than he’d ever seen her.

“Nice one!” Wind called out, laughing as he deflected another strike.

“Not bad, (y/n).” Sky said with a faint grin, his sword taking down another attacker.

Time stepped closer to her, his expression softening just slightly as he placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. “You alright?”

“Uh… yeah,” she breathed out, still clutching the pot like a lifeline. “I think so.”

“Good,” Time said with a small, amused smile. “You might want to put the pot down, though.”

(y/n) blinked, glancing at the pot in her hands before letting it clatter to the floor. She exhaled deeply, her shoulders relaxing.

“I knew hanging around you would lead to something like this,” she muttered, glancing up at Time. “You owe me for ruining my night.”

“That’s fair.” Time said, his tone light as he turned back to the chaos, his cane swinging again.

But as another wave of men stormed in, (y/n) couldn’t help but glance at the pot again.

Maybe she wasn’t entirely done with it just yet.

——

The night air outside the gala was tense, Emilio stomping toward a black car parked at the curb with his men in tow. His face was twisted with anger, and his voice boomed over the chaos still brewing inside.

“Find them! Take them out! How the hell are they winning?!” he snarled, jabbing a finger in the direction of the building. “They’re a small group! They shouldn’t even be a threat!”

His men nodded, scattering to follow his orders as Emilio climbed into the car. In his hand, he held a small, sleek switch, his thumb hovering over the button. A grim smile spread across his face as he stared back at the building.

“It’s a shame I didn’t get to speak more with that girl,” he muttered, almost to himself, though the venom in his tone remained. “But that’s how it goes. And as for Time-that fool! His death will be an example to everyone of what happens when you cross me.”

With that, Emilio pressed the button.

He stared at the building, waiting for the fireworks, for the grand finale that would erase all evidence of the Chain and everyone else inside.

Nothing happened.

Emilio frowned, pressing the button again. Still nothing.

He leaned forward in his seat, pressing it a third time, then a fourth, his frustration mounting with each click. “What the hell is going on?” he snapped, slamming the switch down on the seat beside him.

One of his men leaned into the car. “Sir?”

“WHERE are the explosives?! WHY isn’t this working?!” Emilio barked, grabbing the man by his jacket.

Before the man could respond, another voice called out from the crowd. “Boss! We’ve got a problem!”

Emilio shoved his current victim aside, stepping out of the car. “What now?”

The man hesitated, clearly nervous, but eventually spoke up. “Several of our bases… they’ve just exploded. Reports are coming in one after another, everything’s gone!”

For a moment, Emilio froze, the weight of the words sinking in. Then it clicked.

His face darkened, a snarl curling on his lips. “Time. That bastard knew. He knew what I was planning!”

He turned, glaring in the direction of the building, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles turned white. It all made sense now-the calm demeanor, the subtle arrogance. Time had been playing him the entire night, and he’d walked right into it.

Emilio’s glare could’ve set the building on fire if it hadn’t already been rigged to blow. “Get me out of here,” he growled, voice low and seething.

“But sir, what about—”

“I SAID GET ME OUT OF HERE!” he roared, cutting his man off.

With that, Emilio climbed back into the car, slamming the door behind him. As the vehicle sped away from the scene, he stared out the window, his mind racing with a mix of fury and humiliation.

This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

——

The group finally burst out into the cool night air, (y/n) panting from the running (never good with heels). They stumbled past the remnants of the chaos, adrenaline pumping as the sound of distant shouting faded behind them. Several sleek black cars, headlights cutting through the dark, pulled up in front of them.

Four leaned out the driver’s side window of the lead car, his expression calm but his eyes sharp as ever. “Get in. Now.”

Behind his car, other vehicles packed with their men pulled up, forming a protective barrier between them and the building.

Without hesitation, Time opened the back door and ushered (y/n) in first, followed by Wind and Sky. He slid in last, pulling the door shut behind him. Four hit the gas, and the car sped off, the others falling into formation behind them.

(y/n) leaned her head back against the seat, trying to catch her breath. Her heart was racing, her arms still trembling. “Oh, come on!” she finally burst out, her voice cracking with exhaustion and frustration. “Of course Emilio’s mafia! Of course nothing in this stupid city is normal!”

Sky, seated next to her, glanced over with a small, understanding smile. He reached out and gently placed his hand on hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze. His calm voice broke through her spiraling thoughts. “Hey, you’re safe now. That’s what matters. Just breathe. You did great back there.”

Her breathing slowed as his words settled over her, her grip on the pot starting to loosen-until Sky tilted his head slightly and added, “Though… you’re still holding onto the iron pot.”

(y/n) blinked, looking down at the pot like she’d forgotten it was there. Her shoulders sagged as she stared at it for a long moment. Then, in a flat, deadpan voice, she looked back up at Sky and said, “I’m keeping it.”

Wind, sitting in the far seat, tried to stifle his laughter through the comms. “She’s adopting a kitchen utensil. Classic.”

Four’s voice cut in over the car’s speaker, dry as ever. “It’s probably sturdier than most of our weapons at this point.”

(y/n) huffed and hugged the pot closer to her chest, glaring at the lot of them. “You laugh now, but this pot saved Time’s life. It’s earned its place.”

Sky held up his hands in surrender, smiling softly. “Fair enough. Just don’t name it.”

(y/n) grumbled, muttering something about ‘Stainless Steve’ under her breath as the car sped toward safety.

——

The car ride back was filled with (y/n)’s assurances that she was fine, though she kept hugging the iron pot like a security blanket. “Seriously, guys, I’m fine,” she said for the third time, looking between Time, Sky, and Four. “No one died, I didn’t get shot, and I’m home safe. That’s a win in my book.”

Sky gave her a worried glance, but (y/n) waved him off. “I’ll call you in the morning, Time.” she promised, her voice tired but steady. “If there’s any trouble tonight, just let me know.”

Time nodded, his expression softening just a bit. “We’ll be fine. I will always worry. You just get some rest.”

As Four pulled up to her house, (y/n) got out with the iron pot still in her hands, giving the group a tired wave as they drove off. She smiled faintly when she saw Wind hanging halfway out the window, waving enthusiastically. “Bye, (y/n)!” he shouted, “Happy New Year!” only to yelp as Sky yanked him back into the car by the collar.

Shaking her head, she walked up to her front door, unlocked it, and stepped inside. Her mom was there in the living room, walking over with a warm smile. “Hey, sweetie. How was the gala?”

At that, (y/n) sniffled, her resolve finally cracking. She pressed her face into her mom’s shoulder, shaking as the weight of the night caught up with her. Her mom froze for a second, surprised, before wrapping her arms around her daughter. She could feel the dampness on her shoulder and (y/n)’s quiet sniffles.

Whatever happened, her baby needed comfort, so she just held her tighter.

“What’s wrong, honey?” her mom asked softly.

“Mmmph,” (y/n) mumbled into her shoulder.

Her mom tilted her head, stroking her hair. “What was that?”

Pulling her face away just enough to be heard, (y/n) blurted out, “I’m friends with absolute jerks!”

Her mom blinked in confusion, only for (y/n) to launch into a tired, almost comical rant. “Do you know what happens every time I’m with them? Shenanigans! Absolute shenanigans! I knew I should’ve stayed home, Mom. I knew it!”

Her mom blinked again, trying to figure out if she was supposed to be concerned or amused. It didn’t sound like (y/n) was actually upset, more like she was venting out of sheer frustration.

Finally, (y/n) sighed deeply, slumping her shoulders. “I just needed to get that out of my system,” she admitted.

Her mom gave her another hug, patting her back. “Well, good news-you’re just in time to celebrate New Year’s with us!”

(y/n) blinked, pulling back slightly. “What? Mom, it’s after midnight.”

As if on cue, her younger sister Jack walked by, picked up the wall clock and turned it around, manually turning it back an hour. “Dinner’s almost ready.” Jack called out bluntly before disappearing into the kitchen.

Their dad walked in next, pulling (y/n) into a big bear hug. “Go change and get comfortable,” he said with a grin. “I got your favorite sparklers and cake. We’re celebrating properly tonight.”

Tears welled up in (y/n)’s eyes again, but this time they were happy ones. She nodded, her body finally relaxing completely. “Thanks, Dad.” she whispered, her voice soft but grateful.

“Anything for my girl.” he said, ruffling her hair before walking off to help Jack in the kitchen.

(y/n) sniffled again, looking between her mom, dad, and sister, feeling the tension of the night finally ease away.

This.

This was exactly what she needed.

So much better than going to a Gala.

….

She wasn’t gonna get school credit for going, UGH!

—-

The chain was gathered back at their base, still tense but trying to regroup. Everyone was either sitting around the meeting table or leaning against walls, tired but alert. Four had his laptop open, typing away as the others traded updates on the night.

“Emilio didn’t even follow us,” Sky said, breaking the silence. “It didn’t sit right. He’s not the type to just let something go.”

“He didn’t need to.” Warriors muttered, arms crossed. “He thought he had us.”

Wild, sitting on the edge of the table, raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

Four looked up from his laptop, his face grim. “Our men sent over some footage. Emilio wasn’t following us because he had other plans.”

He turned the laptop toward the group and hit play. The room went silent as Emilio’s face filled the screen, furious and shouting at his men. His words hit like a punch to the gut.

“Find them! Take them out!” Emilio yelled in the video, holding a switch in his hand. “They’re nothing! A small group of fools, and they’re winning? Kill them all! Bury them in rubble!”

Time’s face was unreadable, but his grip on his cane tightened as the footage showed Emilio pressing the button repeatedly. The room stayed silent as the realization sank in.

“That bastard planted explosives,” Twilight said, his voice low and dangerous. “He was going to take out the whole building.”

“He was going to take us all out,” Sky corrected, his voice tight. “Everyone in that building…gone.”

“(Y/n) was in there,” Wild said, his tone sharp. “She would’ve-“

“She didn’t,” Time cut him off, his voice calm but heavy. “None of us did.”

“But why didn’t it happen?” Hyrule asked, looking around. “The explosives didn’t go off.”

Four turned back to his screen, pulling up another video. “Because while we were dealing with him and his men, someone else was dealing with him too. Watch this.”

The second video showed Emilio again, but this time, his rage was directed at the switch in his hand. He pressed it over and over, cursing loudly when nothing happened. The scene shifted to chaos,explosions, but not in the gala. It was Emilio’s bases going up in flames.

“No one else was targeted,” Four said, leaning back in his chair. “Whoever did this wanted Emilio to lose everything. And they did it.”

The group sat in stunned silence, watching the flames consume Emilio’s properties on the screen.

“Whoever this was,” Legend said after a moment, his tone uneasy, “they were…thorough.”

“And they knew exactly what they were doing,” Warriors added. “They waited for the perfect moment.”

“But why?” Wind asked, his voice almost a whisper. “Why go after Emilio like that? And why not target us?”

He paused and stared at the footage again.

“….Heck of a way to start the new year ya know.”

“Indeed.” Time said, his gaze dropping to the table, his thoughts clearly turning. “We weren’t the target. Not tonight. ”

Sky let out a slow breath, running a hand through his hair. “So Emilio was outplayed. Completely blindsided. But by who?”

“We don’t know,” Four admitted. “No patterns, no leads, nothing. At least not yet.

“But if Emilio’s plan had worked…” Hyrule’s voice trailed off, the weight of what could’ve been hanging in the air. “We wouldn’t be here.”

“Especially (y/n),” Twilight said quietly. “She wouldn’t have made it out in time.”

Time stood up, his cane steady as he looked around the room. “We don’t tell her. Not now. She doesn’t need to know how close it was.”

The others nodded reluctantly, though the unease was clear. Whoever had stepped in tonight had saved them, but it didn’t feel like a favor. It felt like a warning. And no one liked that one bit.

——

The living room was quiet except for the low hum of the TV playing some badly made movie no one cared to finish. (Y/n) and Jack were curled up on the couch, fast asleep. Leftover snacks were scattered on the coffee table, and a few stray crumbs clung to the blanket draped over them.

The mist floated in silently, barely noticeable as it moved around the room. It paused by the couch, hovering over (y/n) like it was studying her. A soft, almost musical chime sounded, so faint it could’ve been mistaken for part of the movie.

“Warmth… Home… Heart…” The words were barely a whisper, carried on an unseen breeze as the mist seemed to brighten slightly. It moved closer to (y/n), swirling gently around her before stopping by the blanket.

The blanket shifted, as though an invisible hand was carefully pulling it up to cover both her and Jack properly. The air felt warmer, cozier, as if the room itself was tucking them in.

“Keep safe…always…”

A quiet giggle echoed, soft and playful, as the mist swirled one last time. Then it vanished, leaving no trace but the lingering sense of comfort. It wasn’t gone, though. It was there, watching over (y/n), ready to protect her all night long.

The room settled back into stillness, with only the flickering light of the TV casting shadows over the peaceful scene.

———

(Happy New Year folks!)

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estrellami-1 · 3 months ago

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Lavender Letters

Part 10

Eventually everyone leaves. Eventually Eddie stays behind, first with the pretense of helping Steve clean up, though that pretense is shattered the second Robin looks at Steve.

Chrissy’s taking her home, though, so it’s not like she has any rocks to throw.

They do clean up. The stereo is turned off, all bottles and glasses are taken to the kitchen, and all chip bowls—empty of everything but chip dust—are dumped into the trash. Eddie catches Steve at the sink, crowds him in, draws him upstairs.

Takes him apart slowly, reveling in his whines and writhes, breathless with want, with the thought that he gets this.

It’s after that Steve speaks up. “What is this?” He whispers. “What are we?”

Eddie tugs Steve in more securely, runs a hand through his hair. Smiles when Steve sighs, boneless on Eddie’s chest. “What do you want to be?”

Steve shakes his head. His hair tickles Eddie’s neck. His fingers tighten nearly imperceptibly around Eddie’s side, slotting in between his ribs. “I don’t want you to agree to something you don’t want.”

“Then let me tell you what I want, and you can take what you want.” He rolls them over, cages Steve in underneath him. Leans in to nip at his lips. “Steve Harrington, I’ve had a crush on you from the moment I saw you. I started falling in love then started standing on tables because it was the only way I knew to protect myself. I fall fast and I love hard and it tends to drive people away but I don’t know any other way to love. I never did anything, never said anything, because I’m Al Munson’s son and bad luck is attracted to that name. I thought there was no way I could ever have you. Then you started writing your letters, and I realized who you were, and I realized something else.”

“What?” Steve whispers.

“I’m also Elizabeth Newark’s son. I’m Wayne Munson’s nephew. And those are great things to be, great names to be associated with. And I realized maybe I can have this. I can have my cake and eat it, too.” He teasingly pinches Steve’s hip, then pets a soothing hand over the spot when Steve squirms. “That’s me. That’s how I feel. What do you want to take from that?”

Steve’s silent for a minute. “I fall hard and fast, too,” he admits in a whispers. “And… and girls liked it, at first, because they had my attention all the time. But it got too… suffocating. For them. The longest relationship I ever had was with Nancy and she broke my heart. It’s still healing. I can’t promise I’ll always react the right way. I can’t promise I won’t be annoyingly clingy, because I don’t know how else to be. I noticed you the moment you first stood on a table and couldn’t figure out why I couldn’t get you off my mind. It took Robin and an NDA to shake it loose and make me realize why. I have scars and nightmares from things I can’t tell you about. But I want all of you, if you’re willing to give it to me.”

Eddie rests their foreheads together. “I’m going to tell Wayne,” he murmurs. “And I’m sure you’re going to tell Robin. But when I do, I’d like to call you my boyfriend.”

Steve grins, eyes nothing more than slits. “I’d like that.”

“Good,” Eddie whispers, and kisses him.

It’s a terrible kiss, they��re both smiling too wide to do anything, but it’s fantastic at the same time because Eddie rolls back over onto his side and Steve follows, staring at Eddie. “What?” He asks, “do I have something on my face?”

Steve shakes his head. “Just your face,” he whispers.

Really, what’s Eddie supposed to do, not kiss him? He does, thoroughly, pulling back with a chuckle when Steve yawns. “Sorry,” Steve says around it, cheeks lighting up in a blush.

Eddie shakes his head, taps Steve’s nose with his finger. “Go to sleep,” he whispers. “Let me keep the nightmares away.”

Steve tucks in close, puts his nose in Eddie’s neck. “M’kay,” he murmurs, and does.

Before long there’s soft breaths puffing against his clavicle. Eddie pulls the blanket up more securely around their shoulders, tucks Steve in best he can. Lays awake for as long as he can, memorizing the face he’s seen a million different times, a million different ways, but never so relaxed as he is right now.

Steve sighs in his sleep, throws an arm over Eddie’s chest. His fingers slot between Eddie’s ribs again, and Eddie has one thought as he drifts off.

Maybe our bones were made for each other.

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #robin buckley #platonic stobin #buckingham #if you squint #…kinda #the penultimate chapter!!!#it was the last chapter but I have 0 self control and someone told me nice things in the comments #what was I supposed to do. NOT write? as if #Lavender Letters #starambles

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iwashie · 2 years ago

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𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚑!|𝙱𝙻𝙻𝙺

📌 itoshi sae, itoshi rin, barou shoei, mikage reo, chigiri hyoma, aryu jyubei, karasu tabito, bachira meguru, ryusei shidou

･ﾟﾟ･｡ warnings- gn!reader, established relationship, 18+ characters, pro players(20+), fluffy. Synopsis: Things they do as your bf.

☆ BACHIRA- Matching clothes!! He thinks it’s cute this thing of couples wearing matching clothes, signaling that they’re each other’s and he’s always wanted to do that. He bought the most extravagant, horrifying shiny outfit for you to wear and the worst thing is that it’s wearing on the street, and you don’t want to make him sad.... Oh, he also bought you two bee pajamas!

☆BAROU- He likes to keep his things clean and organized. He’s organized and clean so everything has to be in order for him to be at peace, but you’re kind of disastrous and forgetful, but he doesn’t get so angry - pure pretense on his face of bravo. He understands that this is your way, and that’s why he fell in love with you, and also, he knows that there are days you don’t feel like being organized or can’t and so he does it for you.

☆ TABITO- Gossip!! He grew up surrounded by women gossiping here and there, and he doesn’t deny that he loves gossip. “A prestigious man is a gossiper, yes!” Don’t think about leaving him without the daily gossip or continuation of gossip. “Who’s pregnant?!” or “Did you get the rest of the gossip? No? But I have one for you!”

☆ RYUSEI- He’s kind of crazy, so when you came up with the idea of him getting a tattoo with your name, he accepted it without a second thought! And now he has your name tattooed on his left chest, right next to his heart. And yes, he loved the idea because unlike what most think; he is a one-person man, if he dates it is to marry.

☆ CHIGIRI/ ARYU- Beauty care!! He doesn’t want to know if you don’t have money for that expensive treatment. He’s your boyfriend and has a black card... Just accept the night of care while he finishes your hair and the face mask takes effect. If he takes care of himself, so will you!

☆RIN- Movie night!! You both watch movies at night almost every Friday and then evaluate the movie, serious conversations as if you were cinephiles. The joint account on Letterboxd is the key point, a mix of horror movies with the genre you like. (Teammates follow this account just to poke fun at him)

☆ REO/SAE- His car is a place he likes to have absolute control over, but every time someone hitchhikes with him, he always finds your belongings like makeup, high heels, perfume, charger, keys and he just puts it all away, with a smile on his face or “this is where they left it.” And the main thing of all, the passenger seat, which is your throne, has the position that you love and if someone tries to change he does not let them, he can tell the person to get out of the car.

#blue lock #blue lock x you #bllk x you #blue lock x reader #bllk imagines #blue lock headcanons #bachira meguru #reo mikage #karasu tabito #aryu jyubei #chigiri hyoma #itoshi sae #itoshi rin #barou shouei #ryusei shidou

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urialnathanonwright · 1 month ago

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Trump's 'Energy Emergency' Is a Fraud: A Disaster for the Planet, the Economy, and Basic Common Sense

Let us be clear: this is not leadership—it is lunacy. Donald Trump’s declaration of a so-called “national energy emergency” is not only a fabrication; it is a malevolent act of self-serving deceit that endangers the lives of every American, the stability of our economy, and the future of our planet.

An energy emergency? Let’s cut the nonsense. The United States is not only energy self-sufficient but also the largest producer of oil and natural gas in the world. If there’s any emergency here, it’s that this administration is using the pretense of crisis to gut critical protections, kneecap clean energy innovation, and strap future generations to the ticking time bomb of climate disaster.

The facts couldn’t be clearer: Earth’s temperature is already 1.5 degrees Celsius above pre-industrial levels. Entire ecosystems are collapsing. Hurricanes are leveling communities. Wildfires are burning cities to the ground. And while real scientists, experts, and economists are shouting from the rooftops that we need to act now to save both lives and money, Trump is on a mission to turbocharge the very policies that got us here in the first place.

This isn’t policy—it’s profiteering. Trump is playing lapdog to fossil fuel executives, feeding their bottomless appetite for profit while throwing the rest of us to the wolves. Forget clean energy. Forget protecting Arctic lands or coastal waters. Forget transitioning to wind, solar, or anything remotely resembling a sustainable future. No, Trump’s priority is doubling down on outdated, polluting, and economically reckless fossil fuel expansion.

And what’s his justification? Rising energy costs? Gas prices at the end of 2023 were cheaper than when he left office in his first term. This is a con, pure and simple. He’s hoping you won’t notice the wildfires that cost $200 billion, the hurricanes that obliterate entire towns, and the droughts driving up food prices. These aren’t flukes; they’re the direct consequences of ignoring climate science.

Even his own supporters, the ones who chant his name at rallies, are getting burned—literally and figuratively. These policies won’t lower costs for them. They’ll increase insurance premiums, devastate supply chains, and raise prices across the board. Trump’s so-called “energy emergency” is a Trojan horse designed to dismantle the progress we’ve made toward clean energy and drag us back to the dark ages of environmental neglect.

The gall of it all! This man is looking climate disaster in the face and saying, “Bring it on.” He’s actively choosing to make the planet hotter, the storms stronger, and the economic damage more severe—all while mocking the very idea of accountability.

We have a choice to make, and it’s not just between Trump’s twisted vision and Biden’s policies. It’s between hope and despair. Between a livable future and one where our children ask, “Why didn’t you stop this when you had the chance?”

This isn’t just policy failure; it’s moral bankruptcy. It’s a betrayal of humanity itself. And if there’s any justice left in this world, history will remember Trump’s “energy emergency” for what it truly is: a con, a farce, and an unforgivable crime against the Earth.

#us politics #government #politics #science #climate change #climate crisis #climate catastrophe #climate action #energy #fuck trump #trump #donald trump

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literary-illuminati · 2 months ago

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2025 Book Review #1 - 20th Century Men by Deniz Camp, S. Morian and Igor Kordey

There’s an issue left before the next Saga hardcover is complete. Which means that, to hold to my dizzyingly over-complicated set of reading goals for the year, I needed a different comic for January. Thankfully, one thing I never lack for is a long list of things being recommended to me. The basic pitch of this seemed interesting enough to try, and I’m happy I did. A bit unfocused and meandering for its limited run time, a bit didactic in its narration, but overall quite an interesting read.

The comic is set in a 20th century afflicted with heroism – the aging supersoldier who won WW2 for the United States is finishing his third term as President, a genius with an artificial heart and a hulking mechsuit is single-handedly holding the Soviet war effort in Afghanistan together, the culmination of a centuries-long eugenics and indoctrination program is spending his twilight years cleaning up all the British Empire’s messes and burning all the bodies before he turns off the lights – you get the idea. The war in Afghanistan – and the way it’s inching ever closer to World War 3 as the American Dream orders more and more open intervention against the Soviets – is the focus. The story is told from the perspective of American and Soviet soldiers, politicians and journalists, and the Afghan civilians and soldiers they’re ostensibly fighting for.

This is a comic that was created in the aftermath of the American withdrawal from Afghanistan and oh but you can tell. The human cost of wars of liberation and ‘nation-building’ and the sheer bloodlust involved in ‘peacekeeping’ and ‘counter-terrorism’ is a recurring theme throughout, both in Afghanistan and in flashbacks and discussion of Vietnam. The story does not have anything hugely original to say here, but it says it clearly and with some artistic flair.

More broadly the book is about – well, as the title says. It’s a comic with superheroes, but it’s not a superhero comic – the various heroes are all through-a-mirror-darkly takes on one classic cape or another, but the story isn’t at all interested in interpreting them according to the logic or history of superhero stories. They’re here instead as larger-than-life stand-ins and representations of this or that historical force. Captain America is a man obsessed with reclaiming the righteous moral purity of fighting the nazis and also a rough amalgamation of Nixon and Reagan. The Hulk is a walking war crime who caused such an embarrassingly public bloodbath in Vietnam that the government locked him in a black site until deciding his services are once again needed in Vietnam. Superman is the incarnate faith and belief of the Soviet people in the force of History and the coming communist paradise.

A faith and belief that, over the course of the story, vanishes or wastes away or (according to the narrator’s favourite theory) grew so disappointed with humanity that he killed himself. Which is the thesis of the story in a nutshell, really – the modernist, universalizing ideologies and narratives of the 20th century have, by the end of the ‘80s, grown threadbare and too worn out to take seriously. All that remains is old soldiers fighting a war they can’t conceive of ever winning, brutalizing everyone they claim to be here to uplift and save. Which they do with world-shattering skill and strength – destroying all the other dreams and alternatives which might have sprouted out around them almost as an after-thought. I say you can tell it was written in the 2020s, but honestly if you told me this was some particularly cynical Gen-Xer writing in the ‘90s or 2000s I’d believe you too. It’s all very End of History (but a bad thing).

Themes aside – as a work of visual art this comic is...not gorgeous exactly, but striking. Impressionistic and almost painterly, committed to conveying huge amounts in a panel or two and happily discarding any pretense of ‘realistic’ representation of the action to achieve it. The character designs often feel like caricatures or political cartoons, and I believe this is entirely intentional and even works. It, frankly, carries most of the book on its shoulders. Not that the writing isn’t good and even clever (I quite liked the issue where the narration was all quotations from news/history/propaganda texts with wildly different slants), but with basic/replacement-rate art this would barely be worth a second look.

In terms of plot and pacing the comic – well, mainly it acts like it has many, many more than six issues to make its point. Extended subplots that take up most of an issue end up going nowhere, characters get screen-time and development entirely out of proportion with how important to the plot they are, and when you really look at it the unifying story hanging it all together is surprisingly thin. Which isn’t a crippling issue in this case, really – it’s very much a theme-first sort of story, and each issue is mostly its own contained thing with its own narrative beats – but reading it as a single work you can definitely feel it. It also does feel like something of a bait and switch, as the first couple issues are by far the most plot-focused and afterwards it gets only more contemplative, impressionistic, and political.

In terms of politics – the last issue is in its entirety essentially a lecture and morality tale. One that feels a bit like having its cake and eating it too – it’s slightly rich to complain about Afghanistan’s role in the western imagination as a brutal, remote ‘graveyard of empires’ rather than somewhere people actually live when you’ve spent the first five issues of the comic leaning into precisely the same tropes. But still, I am a fairly easy sell for works on such daring and careful arguments as ‘invading Afghanistan was a bad idea’ (even if the story gives itself the easiest possible time making it).

Overall, I’m glad I read it. Worth a look if you like comics but wish Watchmen had come out last year.

#book review #2025 #comic #20th century men #Deniz Camp #S. Morian #Igor Kordey #sff #alternate history

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throneofsapphics · 1 year ago

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Hey! I would loovee a part two of ‘Theirs’, maybe where reader pulls away from nessian because she doesn’t trust them (especially intimately) after what happened

And they’re just in agony but realise if they act the way they did before, they might lose her forever

I’m a sucker for angst with a happy ending😅 (if you want)

theirs part two

Nessian x f!Reader

(part one)

Summary: Everything came crashing out, the flood gates opened. “Is there a way to fix this? I felt violated, hurt, and neither of you even bothered to ask.”

Warnings: some angst, discussions of SA/dubcon, not proofread

A/N: thank you for requesting it! sorry it took so long, this is a bit shorter and kinda went off script

The next morning, both of them acted as if nothing was wrong. Like it was another ordinary day with the events of the previous night washed clean. You couldn’t wash that fear out of your memory. Sure there was arousal present, but the entire night had not sit right with you. Still, you kept a smile on your face and kept up the pretense. Mainly because you didn’t know what else you could dol. You didn’t find your own release that night either. Maybe they didn’t know, or were trying to punish you. Either way, it didn’t matter right now.

Cassian leaned in for a kiss as he left, he was already running late, but you turned your head, letting him leve one on your cheek. He frowned at you but didn’t time to question it as he took off. You let out a slow breath as he flew away. He hadn’t the time to question it and you planned it that way. Nesta wasn’t present either, and you know she would’ve had questions. She’d always been particularly observant.

You tried to put up a good front, but after a week Nesta finally brought it up.

“What’s wrong?” It was just the two of you, in the library.

“Nothing,” you said shortly, returning your focus to your book. She snatched it from your hands, marking your page and setting it aside.

“Talk to me.” Her words were a plea, almost begging. “You’ve barely kissed or touched either of us all week, haven’t spoken much - you’re turning into a ghost.”

You didn’t know how to answer her, what kind of words would actually explain it. Nesta waited not-so-patiently, but she could see you were thinking and held her tongue. “That night, after Rita’s,” you spoke quietly. “Put yourself in my shoes.”

Anything else, you might’ve burst into tears and left her to her thoughts, searching for a place you could find some peace and solace.

You knew Nesta would speak to Cassian about it, and they’d likely try to find you after dinner - you’d taken to eating somewhere else, feigning work to do.

Sure enough, they showed up and you ended up in one of the cozier sitting areas.

“I thought you enjoyed it,” Nesta started.

“My body did …” you took a few deep breaths, calming yourself. “But I didn’t feel safe.”

“Why didn’t you say something?” Cassian countered.

“You didn’t give me a chance,” you snapped at him.

Nesta’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry.” Out of all things, you never expected Nesta to apologize to you. Actually, you’re not certain you’ve heard those words come out of her mouth before. “How do we fix this?”

Everything came crashing out, the flood gates opened. “Is there a way to fix this? I felt violated, hurt, and neither of you even bothered to ask.” Your breathing grew heavy, fists clenched, a tightness in your chest.”

“A safeword.” Nesta blurted out.

“It’s not just about sex,” you snarled, “I was having fun. FInally introducing you to my friends, and you couldn’t wait til the Gods-damned night was over before dragging me out.”

You left the room, any longer and you might’ve said something you would truly regret.

It took months for them to earn your trust back. So many discussions on boundaries, and you could tel they were really trying. They asked to meet your friends again, in a different setting, and you relented. If there was any jealousy, they kept it firmly under wraps. You loved them, with all of your heart, and managed to trust again, to let them back in.

#nessian x y/n #nessian x reader #acotar fic #acotar imagine #acotar x reader #poly!nessian x y/n #poly!nessian x reader #poly!nessian #cassian x y/n #cassian x reader #nesta archeron x y/n #nesta archeron x reader

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whatsk-poppinhomies · 1 year ago

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Hi, how do you feel about yandere ot8 skz manipulating their love into staying with them? Like which ones do you see using mental/emotional manipulation tactics to keep control vs who is going full blown restraints and fear even manhandling to absolutely just decimate their SO’s mental state and keep them close?

TW! yandere behavior ; physical violence ; mental and emotional manipulation ; narcissism ;

I feel like the members that would most use mental/emotional manipulation would be Bangchan, Changbin, Hyunjin, and Seungmin. They would be the ones to use guilt trips and heavily victimize themselves. They are extremely narcissistic to a sickening extent. They’ll make you feel like you’re going insane, they’ll put words into your mouth and their constant assumptions will always make you feel like you’re doing something wrong even if you’re not. Their main tactic to keep you to themselves would be turning everyone against you (secretly/behind your back) all while making everyone love them at the same time. They’ll try to take you away under the guise of wanting to take you “somewhere better” because they “love you so much.” Arguing is like a game to them, and lying is just another game to see how far they can get with a lie before they get called out, but god forbid you call them out because then it turns into an even bigger argument. Every day is hell, but when you wake up in the morning it’s like a “clean slate” for them and they pretend it never happened and you better act like it never happened as well or else the argument will just get worse.

As far as restraints, fear and man handling, I can definitely see Jisung, Felix, and Jeongin resorting to these tactics. Strangely enough, I feel like these three truly love you and that’s why they act like this. They want you solely for themselves, and they’re terrified of losing you. I don't think that these three would enjoy having to do this, but in their mind they think that it's the only thing they can do to keep you close to them. I see Jeongin and Jisung as more of the types to use restraints, ex. locking you up or tying you to the bed or something along those lines to keep you from leaving. Felix would be the type to use fear and manhandling. He'd use a lot of violence, not specifically against you, but he'd definitely be the type to throw things and just slightly miss, just enough to scare the shit out of you and keep you from walking out the door. The three of them would constantly tell you that you're not good enough for anyone else, or that no one else would be able to handle you or love you the way they do. They would be the types to break you down and make you feel extremely small, and then in a matter of minutes be the same ones to build you back up and make you feel like the most wonderful person in the world. They'll make you feel like shit, they'll be violent and scary, but they'll do it all under the pretense of loving you.

As far as Minho goes, I can see him being a mix of both of these depending on his mood. I see him being very desperate to keep you in his life so he'd do anything... literally anything. If you talk back a lot, he'd probably have to use the fear/violence tactic to keep you in line. If you're more of the quiet type that thinks a little bit too much for his liking or if you start to figure him out, he'd definitely be the emotional/mental manipulative type. Either way, with him you'll feel like your world is constantly upside down and that you're losing your mind. I think he has the tendency to be the most toxic though because he knows how to use all of these techniques to keep you right where he wants you. He's a master manipulator and that's the scariest part. He can do anything he wants and still get away with it. It's impossible to leave him once you get with him.

#nana answers #<3 anon #yandere!skz #yandere!stray kids #yandere kpop

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vibratingskull · 1 year ago

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Yandere!Thrawn x F!reader chapter 9

Yandere AU - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8

Tags : Yandere behaviors (duh), starday, negociation of bondaries

Thrawn opens his very special package and smiles to himself. It is quite hard to get those hormones, because they’re prohibited first off and after because they are an ingredient of the latest trendy hallucinogenic drugs on Coruscant. People kill for them.

For him they have the very neat effect of slowing down considerably the parathyroid hormone production, preventing a swiftly recovery of fractures and fissured bones. You don’t know it but he laced all your dishes with it, slowing down your recovery. You should take more than 10 weeks to recover instead of the standard 6 to 8 weeks. All of that is bonus time with you for him!

But he’s curious about the hallucinogenic effects too. He may try them on you as a reward or punishment, he doesn’t know yet. He dusts the powder on the icing of the cake.

Today is your starday! He would never forget such a date, he planned a nice dinner, a present and a romantic movie to watch together after. Or he will let you think you choose a romantic movie yourself, but he thought about it for several weeks ahead.

“(Y/n), it will be time to bathe you.” he announces to you with a stoic voice as he enters the bedroom, hiding his excitement. “Oh… Okay…” each evening you have the crazy hope you will escape it, each evening he undresses and massages your body meticulously to clean it. He knows you don’t like it, but you surrendered by now, you know, deep down, that you can’t escape him and so you stopped making it complicated for him. You’re not relaxed under his hands yet but it is easier now.

You curse that time of day while he can’t wait for it. Each evening he takes pleasure in choosing in which soap he will bathe you today, adding oils and perfume and special body cream to make your skin smooth (all under the pretenses it will ease the pain of your bruises of course.)

You’re suspicious of him of course. Who wouldn’t in your situation? That is why he takes care to not spend too much time on the erogenous zones of your body, despite his deepest wishes, and to clean your whole body thoroughly. He chooses modest garments to dress you, with just one slit here and there, nothing too suspicious. He washes your underwear that he steals from you regularly so you don’t notice them disappearing. He never touches you more than necessary, he might have just taken a handful of your plump thighs in his hands, but come one, he just needed to find a good grip on you to carry you!

One day you flatley refused to be bathed, plain and simple. You turned your back to him, crossing your arms. He was, of course, prepared for that eventuality. “May I know why?” He asked calmly but with authority, “Because this is terribly humiliating!” You exploded “You see me naked each and every day, I feel exposed and violated! And the way you touch me…”, “I do not remember touching you in an unreasonable way.” he says like he doesn’t see the problem and you are being the unreasonable one. You just shudder, “Yeah,I know. But still, this crosses my boundaries in so many ways! I would rather we stop.”

Like hell he will stop.

“I do not see the problem.” He flatly responds. “In the Ascendancy we bathe all together to strengthen the bonds between family members and friends in hot springs.” he recalls, a hand on his chin. That must be his most outrageous lie to date, “We are more modest here.” you counter “We do not show our naked body to simple friends.”, “I see.” he continues, “But I have a different view of modesty and nakedness than humans, we are not shy about it, we see it as a simple aspect of life and of a body. Nothing to be shy or embarrassed about. I have bathed naked with numerous female colleagues and friends before.” You slowly turn your head towards him with pursed lips, he tilts his head to you. “This is a very asexual activity for all of us, free of judgment and ambiguity.” It couldn’t be more false, Chiss are as conservative if not more than humans on that subject.

You look into his eyes to see if he is lying, as usual his gaze is clear and resolute and you can’t get any info out of it. You bite your lips, “Even if you say that, it doesn’t help the shame I feel.”, “The shame of what? Being vulnerable with a friend?”, “To be powerless! I’m an officer of the Empire and can’t do anything on my own right now!” you shout, annoyed. “(Y/n), this is a simple bad patch. You will heal and recover your power. You just need the assistance of a friend.”, “Well it is humiliating!”

“Would you have preferred a human colleague to do it instead of me?” He taunts, pretending to be compassionate. You remain silent, thinking. “No. In retrospect it is better if it’s you.” You admit “You wouldn’t… You would never take advantage of a situation. I trust you.”

And this, this is why you let him do it. Because he succeeded to convince you that he is better than this, that he is upright and a man of honesty that would never hand on a woman in any way shape or form. He is the ever the stoic Grand Admiral Thrawn after all, he is known to be brutally honest and direct. And that is true, to a certain extent. He would never take advantage of a situation over anybody, even his former partners. If one man would never be bothered and interested by such basic needs and desires, it’s him.

But they weren’t you. They didn’t have your perfection. They weren’t his darling… They didn’t obsess his mind like you do, plaguing him at all hours of the day and night.

You can’t see him behind you but he’s grinning at your words. How you blindly trust him, believing in his personna so fully, after all he mastered the mask for years. Not even Eli has the slightest idea of what is going on in his mind. All the emotions raging on behind the meticulously crafted aloof and disinterested expression, all the perverted fantasies that kept brewing within him since his younger age. How would you be able to see right through him?

He has some “mishaps” here and there but you make quick excuses for them because he is just above any suspicion. You never saw him hitting on someone, caressing someone, seeing any true inner desires appear through, he must be above baseless desires and romantic sentiments! He forces you to appear naked before him? His relationship to modesty and nakedness are fundamentally culturally different, what are you gonna do? Fly to the Ascendancy to check? He massages your naked body with body cream each evening? It is obviously to soothe your bruised skin, there is nothing weird here, why do YOU feel the need to make it weird? He helps you eat like a mother helps her young child, infantilising you? You’re in a cast, how do you expect to eat with dignity without your dominant hand? He joins you in bed each night, pressing your two bodies together like a couple would? You’re the one complaining it was cold in the first place, why are you always dissatisfied with the solutions he proposes?

He’s just trying to help you, why do you always feel the need to make it difficult for him? Him who takes time off his crowded Grand Admiral agenda just to help you. Aren’t you a spoiled and ungrateful woman to question his actions?

Every time you have a concern or a reluctance he looks at YOU like you're the crazy one, why looking into it? He raises an eyebrow, looking at you like an animal in a cage going in a frenzy, why are you always questioning his good intentions? Him who saved your life! How ungrateful can you be! He’s simply trying his best to help his friend, why give him bad intentions? Why look into his actions suspiciously? Him who forgave you your treachery. Isn’t he a saint to both forgive you AND helps you out of your misery? He’s not obligated to do that after all, if he’s fed up with your antics he could very well send you back to the med bay, at the mercy of your tormentors without any protection. How can you even doubt him? If we look at it he is the true victim between you two.

This is what you’re torturing yourself with each sleepless night, feeling his warm body pressed against your back. Rummining each and every little action like you’re the crazy one. All those gut wrenching doubts clashing with the proper and honest portrayal you have of him.

But that is what he wants you to do. To doubt your own feelings and very well justified fears. To lose grips on what is truly acceptable and what is obviously crossing a justified boundary.

So you let him do it… You stopped fighting and lowered your defenses. You just grit your teeth and suck it up while he takes his twisted pleasure in forcing you to submit. Tonight will be no exception. He lifts you off the bed and heads toward the bathroom.

Once this is done he dresses you in a fancy dress with sparkle and lace and not your usual pajamas. You tilt your head to him, eyes full of questions. “You did not think I forgot what day it is?” He asks you with a lopsided grin, “I planned a delicious soiree for us both.”

He carries you to the living room where a gentle music plays, dim lights create an intimate atmosphere, a candelabra burning on the table overflowing with food. “Happy Starday, my friend.” He says softly, laying you on your attributed chair, “I took the liberty to ask for dishes from your homeworld, to make you feel at home, at least a little bit.”, “Oh Thrawn…” You murmur emotionally “This is… You shouldn't have! It is too much!”, “Come on now, there is no “too much” when we celebrate a friend.” He counters, opening a bottle of champagne, “I know you the crew celebrate each starday with a little party, I wanted to know how it feels like.” He simply explains. You feel an icy feeling at the bottom of your stomach, those little parties are reserved for the crew members and some ensigns, typically the hierarchy doesn’t get involved so Thrawn was never invited.

Did he… Did he wanted to come? To celebrate with all of you?

“Thrawn I-” you start but he cuts you with a gesture of the hand, “I know you don’t want your superiors to mingle in those parties. I understand it. I just thought today would be a good occasion to enjoy it at a lesser level.”, “Thrawn, I am sorry.” You offer, sympathetic, “If we knew… If I knew you wanted to enjoy those parties I would have invited you. But I didn’t think you would even care, you’re always so detached from everything.” You bite your inner cheek, how many evenings did he spend in complete solitude while you partied, getting drunk on cheap booze with friends?

“No need for excuses, Cha’cah. You are here tonight, that is what matter.”, “No, Thrawn really! We would have welcomed you if you’d asked!” You feel like such a bad friend now… You never once checked on him to know if he wanted to party. “Let us focus on you tonight.” He cuts the conversation short, “I hope it will taste good, I cooked some of the dishes.”, “You…? Oh maker, and I’m not even sure what the date of your starday is…” You hide your face in your hand, absolutely mortified. Wow, you are such a miserable friend! It’s a real mystery what he even sees in you.

You just hear a light chuckle in response. “You have all the time in the world to memorize it.” He serves you both and starts cutting your roast to manageable pieces. He picks one piece with the fork and extends his hand to you, “No!” You say firmly, “Let me try.” You seize the forks with your non-dominant hand and bite into it, your movements are unsure and clumsy but you manage to eat your meat on your own, absolutely determined to not let yourself get pampered and getting some autonomy back! You smile at your success “Hell yeah, look at that! It’s less easy than you can believe!”

He observes you with a false smile. Why are you trying to eat on your own? Why not let him do it? You had such a thing going on, why try to rob him from it? He will ask for more difficult dishes to eat from now on. He eats little bite by little bite, observing you finishing your plate with your stupidly blissful smile on your face. Why are you so happy about getting away from him, even for an inch? Everything was so perfect and now you can’t think of anything else but leaving him behind!

But he smiles, a gentle smile, a smile friends give when another progresses. But his eyes don't sparkle. He’s ruminating while you speak enthusiastically, at least this little dinner is giving you back some life… He, at least, gets to enjoy your laugh.

He opens the cloche for the desert and your eyes open wide. This cake… It is the cake you asked your mother for each year when you were young. A favorite of yours you didn’t have in years.

“How did you knew?” You ask incredulously, “I did my little investigation.” He answers enigmatically.

He is in contact with your family for months now. He knows where they all live and have their personnel numbers. He talked to them for weeks, presenting himself as a friend of yours. Well, that isn’t lying, no? He even talked to your homeworld friends, he decorticated your life from every angle, examining you under a microscope behind your back.

“Oh maker, that scent… So many memories.” You utter, lost in your memory. He lights up the candles and pushes the cake towards you, you can’ help but chuckle, “Thrawn, I’m not a kid anymore.”, “Humor me, I find this tradition with candles most interesting.” You blow the candles out and claps, thoroughly amused, drooling at the simple sight of your favorite childhood cake. You try to cut two parts yourself, just managing to mash them, destroying the presentation completely, “Oh no!” you laugh. You eat, your hand trembling, but with a smile on your face.

Once you’re finished and avidly licked your plate of all the cream he takes out a velvet box that he hands you with a gentle smile, “Happy Starday, my friend.”. He opens it with a “click” letting you admire a golden choker with little white diamonds sprinkled on it, something is engraved and a little chain dangling, making a hoop, at the center, harmonizing the piece. You touch it with the tip of your fingers, eyes wide open and sparkling.

“Oh wow…” you can only say. “Do you like it?” he asks, “It’s beautiful… What is engraved?”, “It is your name in cheuhn.” he explains, rising of his seat to put in on you.

It is not your name. It’s written “my cha’cah” in cheuhn. You don’t need to know, but he will see his claim on you each time you decide to wear it, proudly announcing to the world that you belong to him. And he can't wait to attach a chain on the little hoop…

“May I ask the price?” You ask, worried. “No you cannot. It is improper to reveal it.” He shuts you down with a smile in his voice. He paid it a little fortune, but you’re so worth it! He chose the most expensive precious metals and diamonds just for you…

He carries you to a mirror for you to admire yourself. “So this is how my name would be spelled in Cheuhn?” You ask curiously, “Yes.” He lies with a thin smile, “You wear it perfectly.”. You admire yourself a little more and ask him to take it off, “Why?” he asks confused, “I just don’t want to scratch or damage it.” you explain, raising your valid hand to try and unclip it. “Please.” he seizes your hand mid movement delicately “Wear it a little more, I want to admire it on you.” You look at him surprised, but oblige, it isn’t unreasonable. So you keep it, letting him admire you with what’s basically a dog collar with his claim on you. He can’t keep his eyes out of your precious adorned neck, devouring you with his gaze like a salivating predator.

Oh you are so beautiful like that…

It only misses the chain with what he could tugs you closer to him, choking you a bit, hearing your delicious gasp as you are being pulled in his embrace. He can’t wait to make love to you with it shining on your neck.

You mind absently touch it from time to time, it is just a little too tight making it a little difficult to breathe in. Just as he asked the jeweler.

To finish the soiree he carries you back to the bed where he puts on a romantic movie. He doesn’t like them especially, too sappy for his taste, but he knows you’re an avid watcher of the genre. So he will gladly oblige, for you he will go to the other side of the universe, so watching some mushy movies is a piece of cake. He very gently, very slowly, passes his arm around your shoulders, pressing you close to him as you sigh away at the main lead declaration to their lover. “Isn’t it beautiful?” you ask “To devote yourself to someone to such an extent?” your eyes are glued to the screen, not noticing that his red burning rubies are on you and not the TV. “I guess it is…” He sighs, lost in your beauty, so close and so far away.

But not for long now…

He just needs to be a little bit more patient and you’ll be his forever.

@bluechiss @blueninjablade3 @al-astakbar @thrawnspetgoose @readinglistfics @twilekchiss @pencil-urchin @ineedazeezee @mssbridgerton @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching @Cortisolcosplay

☆Tag list

#yandere au #thrawn x you #thrawn x reader #thrawn x f!reader #thrawn #grand admiral thrawn #mitth’raw’nuruodo #fanfic #vibratingskull

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