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klausysworld · 8 months ago

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Hey,I like your klaus mikaelson stories very much. Can you do one in which klaus and reader(yn) were in an arrange marriage and they cant stand each other?And they slowly fall in love and at the end he gets her pregnant? As in arranged marriage I mean,something like the marriage between hayley and Jackson. And if you can please add smut,fluff,jealousy and daddy kink. Thank you

An Alliance or a Marriage?

Y/n could not believe that she was doing this.

Y/n was Jacksons sister, they always had each others backs and protected the other. So when Hayley came into Jacksons life, had him falling in love while she had feelings for Elijah Mikaelson, Y/n knew they couldn't get married. The only reason they were actually getting married was to unite the werewolf clans and to share Hayley's hybrid abilities as part of the marriage ritual.

But it would come at the cost of Jackson's happiness and most likely his life. Y/n was not stupid. She knew the price of loving a Mikaelson and it was one that Jackson could not afford and one that Y/n would not let him pay.

So without thinking, she made a fast decision.

"What if Ione of the wolves married Klaus? That way Hayley gets to be with Elijah and Klaus doesn't have to be so wary of Jackson around Hope or whatever his worry is? Wouldn't it just be easier?" She questioned and she felt everyone's gaze turn to her, most genuinely considering the possibility while Klaus looked both pissed and amused.

"I wouldn't trust anyone with Hope and under no circumstances will I be marrying anyone." He answered before storming out without another word. Jackson was second to protest then some of the other wolves.

They all went back to the bayou and tried to forget about the day.

What the wolves were unaware of were the arguments in the Mikaelson compound. Mostly between Rebekah and Niklaus. Rebekah was telling Klaus that for once, he should think of Elijah's happiness instead of only being selfish yet again. She continued to go on about how it was for Hope, how he should be the one sacrificing for Hope, not Hayley as she had already given up so much. The fight went on for hours but by morning it was settled. Niklaus would marry a wolf of his choosing.

Y/n was his choice. She was quiet but smart. Small but strong. Which meant she would be the best of his options. He knew part of her feared him, unlike some of the wolves there. She may challenge him a little but she wasn't stupid enough to truly go against him. This was proven when she silently accepted his decision.

Jackson was entirely against the entire thing. His sister was getting married to the original hybrid, moving into the beasts den and becoming apart of his twisted family. But he too kept quiet after Y/n told him it was what needed to be done. It was the only chance for everyone to walk out somewhat alive.

That was why she was walking down the aisle, Jackson unwillingly giving her away to Klaus Mikaelson before Mary began the ceremony. As the words "you may kiss your bride" left her lips, their fates were sealed. Klaus stepped forward and pressed a chaste kiss to his brides soft lips and watched as her and every other wolf in the rooms eyes lit up with golden flames, united as one.

The compound remained busy for the rest of the day, Klaus and Y/n stayed in opposite sides of the room at all times. Elijah urged his brother to at least be kind, Klaus however ignored any and all advice and instead drank the night away. Marriage was not in the cards for him. It was not what he wanted and he now knew that he was tied to this girl, a girl he harboured no feelings toward and a girl who only looked at him with distaste, for at least one lifetime. He knew the likelihood of them every liking each other was slim and he also knew that there were lots of rules in this werewolf marriage that he would have to follow in order to have the wolves protecting Hope. So he got off his face drunk, to the point where he couldn't get himself up the stairs at the end of the night.

It wasn't the best way for Y/n to find him on their first night 'together'. When she gave him that look of uncertainty and upset when she found him at the bottom of the stairs slurring his words, he just rolled his eyes and told her to piss off. But she didn't. Instead she fought against his sloppy attempts of pushing her away and instead managed to get him up the stairs and to bed. He fell asleep in seconds leaving Y/n distressed and alone on her wedding night. Instead of sleeping she went back downstairs and cleaned up the mess left over from the wedding.

Klaus had come down in the morning to find her scrubbing the corner of the room. He glanced around and noticed everywhere was spotless, his eyes travelled to the stairs and he was hit with the memory of leaning against her as she struggled to carry him up each one. Guilt bubbled in the pit of his stomach but he ignored it and made his way into the room and past her.

Y/n just stared at the nonexistent spot on the ground and tiredly rubbed the sponge against it.

Rebekah came downstairs after a little while and frowned when she saw Y/n, exhausted and leaning against the wall while her arm moved almost robotically to scratch away at the floor.

“Y/n? Darling we have maids for this” she whispered softly, supporting her new sister-in-law and guiding her to stand up and walk toward the stairs.

“I was just helping” Y/n mumbled, “wine was spilt” she stated as she glanced over to the area she thought was stained with alcohol but when Rebekah glanced it was completely clean. She lead Y/n toward Klaus’s room but paused when she noticed the mess it was in and began to realise why Y/n hadn’t been to sleep. With a soft sigh she brought the she-wolf to her bedroom and helped Y/n out of her wedding dress.

“I suppose this isn’t the way you had hoped to get out of your dress” she joked gently but Y/n didn’t look amused.

“I’d rather you than your brother” she murmured and Rebekah gave a small laugh.

“One day you won’t think that” she whispered as she grabbed some of her pyjamas and passed them to Y/n. “He’ll become kinder after some time, it’ll be a difficult ride but you’ll get there. Besides he must already like you to have chosen you out of all the wolves” she convinced but Y/n just scoffed as she crawled into Rebekah’s bed and let her head hit the pillow

“Lucky me.” She quipped and Bekah hummed.

“I’ll get him to let you rest for today” she told her as she exited the room and let the girl sleep in her room for the day.

Klaus claimed not to care what Y/n did with her time, where she went or who she was with but Rebekah reminded him that she was his wife. Whether he was happy about or not.

“You either need to set her up a nice room for her to have for herself or you need to actually be her husband and have her feel comfortable enough to share one with you. My god Niklaus, it’s not like there’s anything wrong with her. It won’t give you a disease if you smile at the poor girl.” She scowled and Klaus glared but kept his trap shut.

Klaus knew Y/n was beautiful. She was delicate little thing, from what he had seen she could be very sensitive for a werewolf at times. But he knew she had a certain fire in her. He wondered what he would have to do to light that flame and have her snap at him. He wondered if her fear would override that anger.

It was much later in the day when he went to check on his new wife. Part of him worried she had ran away but he knew that she would stay, for the survival of her pack.

He found her curled up in his sisters pyjamas and bed. Reluctantly he picked her up and brought her to his room, tucking her into his bed and leaving her to rest there instead. After all, his bed was where she belonged now.

When evening came around, he made his way back to his room. As soon as he started getting ready for bed, Y/n forced herself up despite her still clearly needing sleep. He sighed as she left the room, ignoring his presence and going downstairs for the rest of the night.

Some days she would stay downstairs and behave almost zombie like as she tried to keep her mind running and eyes open, other times she just went to sleep while she knew Klaus was busy.

It annoyed him to no end but at the same time he was relieved that he never had to really see or speak to her. Still, whether either of them liked it, she was his wife and the fact that she wouldn’t stand in the same room as him was not something he appreciated.

So he did what he assumed to be best.

Forced her to spend time with him.

Often it would be in a painful silence as he stared her down and made sure she wouldn’t get up and leave. However after some time, she would have little conversations with him so that he would be sated and leave her alone for a little while later.

When in front of the other wolves, Klaus would become a different person. He would make sure to kiss Y/n’s cheek or head, hold her waist or hand. One because he had to make it seem as though they were some what happy so that the wolves would not turn on him and two because he liked to piss Jackson off. He took amusement in how the wolf would growl and scrunch his face up in distaste.

Y/n knew what Klaus was doing but didn’t see the point in arguing or getting all stressed about it, besides it only happened every now and then so it didn’t matter much.

However when Klaus began accidentally doing the little gestures when others weren’t around, as though it were his second nature, Y/n felt confused. She didn’t understand his motifs or what he wanted from her.

Rebekah told Y/n that he didn’t want anything, that he was just warming to her but Y/n was still skeptical. Even when Rebekah came into her room grinning and held out a piece of paper with a beautifully sketched version of Y/n’s face.

“He must’ve been bored out of his mind” Y/n mumbled dismissively as she handed the drawing back to Rebekah who rolled her eyes.

“He likes you” she argued and Y/n scoffed.

“He does not. He just wants me to do whatever he says”she countered and the mikaelson sister sighed

“He isn’t all bad, you know?” Bekah questioned

“Sure he isn’t. He’s quite lovely towards his daughter” she agreed and Rebekah hummed as she watched Y/n pretend to have no clue about Niklaus’s thoughts or feelings.

Klaus wouldn’t admit that he had become accustomed to Y/n’s presence and began to want it more often. He wasn’t too sure why but he had taken a fancying to her, he just had.

And he most certainly didn’t like when other people took a fancying to her as well. Not at all.

Now he knew that she would never peruse anything with anyone else, that would break the magical marriage binding the wolves together but it didn’t mean he didn’t get angry. Especially when another wolf could make her smile or blush better than he could. His teeth would bring, jaw would clench and his eyes would flicker gold.

It fuelled something ugly and twisted inside him.

Jealousy.

“Jealousy is a weak man’s disease” Niklaus had told Elijah many times over the centuries. “A man who knows his worth and his strength never had to fear that his girl would stray. Jealously means they are nothing. I am not nothing, I never will be.”

And yet, as soon as Y/n’s attention was given to an attractive werewolf, Klaus would feel as though he was nothing. He would feel that weakness that he loathed so deeply.

The only way to diminish that jealousy was to eliminate the threat. To pick away at the weakness piece by piece until only strength was left.

But that didn’t go well.

When Klaus killed a werewolf, Y/n went ballistic. It was the first time she had actually yelled at him, expressed her anger and threatened his position.

“It’s like you’re actually a fool! You hurt my pack and they will not protect you nor your child, this marriage will be pointless and finished-“ she ranted and his anger bubbled.

“This marriage will not end just because our pack says so” he growled and she glared at him, her pointer finger jabbed at his chest aggressively and it took everything within him not to snap it in half.

“It is hardly a marriage and it had only happened for the benefit of my pack and for your daughter. It is you that has a hundred enemies banging down the door at night and it will be you that suffers if you do not have the protection that I offer you.” She snapped and he sneered in her face. He wanted to kill her in that moment however at the same time, for whatever reason, he had never been more attracted to her. His wolf wanted to force her into submission. To spank and pound her until she admitted that she was his and wouldn’t ever threaten to leave him again. But he was also beyond furious at the possibility of his daughter’s life being on the line and so stormed past her before he would harm her.

He ignored her mutterings of how pathetic he was and locked himself in his arm room which was utterly destroyed by the end of the hour due to his never ending rage.

The next morning he had expected a pack of wolves to be stood at his door, angry and threatening. However he found them all sat at their long table, Y/n was at the head informing them that they had ‘found’ the pack member already dead and had brought him here so that they may take care of his body accordingly.

She lied for Klaus.

She let her family believe that it was someone else who had killed the wolf. When they accused Klaus, she snapped back at them that he was with her all day and had helped her take care of the body.

Y/n gave Klaus a look that dared him to contradict her words but he didn’t utter a word. He just stood at her side and placed a hand on her shoulder as he listened to the others discuss the traditional funeral that the wolf deserved.

Once they left, Y/n walked straight past Klaus and to her bedroom. She was unwilling to speak with her for the next few days. The only time she would was regarding Hope.

The small toddler had taken a strong liking to Y/n and often asked for her. Nobody could not love Hope once they spent some time with her so Y/n was always happy to have the baby in her arms.

Klaus too, very much enjoyed the sight of his wife holding his child. His mind began to spin together images of Y/n pregnant with his child. His wolf craved the thought. He could imagine how beautifully round her stomach would be and how he would press his hands to the bump while nuzzling into her hair.

And then he would think of how he would get her pregnant. She would be so gorgeous sprawled out in his bed.

Since their wedding day she had been in her own room but now Klaus desperately wanted her in his.

He wanted to be inside her. To claim her. To love her.

Never did he think he would love her.

Then again, never did he think he would be getting married or having a baby.

But all of those things had happened and he wouldn’t take them back. Perhaps he might’ve gone about them a little differently but he would have still wanted them to happen.

He told her that once.

One night when they were having dinner.

Somehow he had managed to convince her to share a meal with him and him alone. She couldn’t be bothered to fight over it so complied.

Y/n hadn’t expected him to actually make such an effort. Or to have been so lovely the entire evening. It was clear he wanted to impress her and to engage her, and he had but she didn’t understand why.

Until he told her of how he wouldn’t have changed things,not fully. He had admitted to her that he was somewhat happy with the fact that they were married. He didn’t say he loved her, he knew that would through her off but he made it obvious that he liked her much more than he had initially expressed.

She wasn’t so sure how to respond to him.

Y/n had thought that he was only nicer to her lately because he too was avoiding arguments but she hadn’t truly believed it was because he was being genuine.

Klaus noticed the frown on her face and looked down at his plate. “It’s a little silly I suppose” he muttered to himself, he couldn’t help the deflated feeling that travelled through him as he placed his fork down. “Neither of us wanted this marriage” he mumbled while standing up from his seat making his chair scrape against the floor with a painful sound.

Y/n felt the guilt sink in and she quickly got up also and rounded the table as he started to walk away. “Klaus,” she called softly, reaching out for his hand.

His eyes fluttered when she held onto his hand, he hadn’t felt the softness of her touch since their first and only kiss of their relationship from their wedding day.

He glanced to her and reluctantly shrugged her off. “No it doesn’t matter, I was being a fool” he argued and kept walking.

Y/n sighed to herself and rubbed her hands down her face in frustration.

The next morning Klaus ignored her, barely looked at her even.

It was later that day that she finally caught his attention and pulled him off into another room.

“Klaus” she murmured in annoyance when he went to open the door she had just pushed shut. “You’re behaving like a child” she tutted and he growled. “Would you just stop?” She told him and he glared at her.

“What do you want?” He asked, not bothering to soften his tone which made her frown again.

“I want you to talk to me” she whispered and he narrowed his eyes.

“You never want to talk to me.” he snapped, “you only want to because I made a stupid mistake”

“It wasn’t a mistake” she told him, her tone much gentler than his. “I just wasn’t expecting it”

“Why? Because it’s so shocking that I could possibly feel something-“

“God, Klaus no. You know I dont think you’re a heartless monster-“

“That strongly contradicts things you’ve said in the past-“ he argued and she made a sound of frustration.

“Well I’ve changed my mind” she told him and his jaw tightened. “Klaus I’m serious. I know you now, I’ve seen you”

“Then what is it about me that you cannot love?” He whispered and her eyes softened further. They stared at each other until Y/n stepped forward and pulled him into a hug. Her arms went around his midsection and his went over her shoulders.

“It isn’t that I can’t” she mumbled and he closed his eyes

“You just don’t want to” he whispered but she still shook her head.

“I just don’t know how to” she corrected and he hummed quietly.

“But I love you” he uttered and she nodded.

“I know that now” she agreed “and I’ll make sure that I take that into consideration but Klaus, you can’t just expect that I’ll suddenly be all over you and madly in love” she told him and he frowned.

“Why not?” He asked and she scoffed softly. For centuries woman had been falling at his feet but the one woman that he married wouldn’t?

“Because the world doesn’t revolve around you?” She whispered, a little laugh in her voice that made him a little annoyed at first but when he saw her face he couldn’t help but laugh a little bit with her. Eventually he sighed and looked down with a small smile and a nod.

“I’ll earn your affections” he promised, kissing her forehead before exiting the room.

And from that day, he tried his very best to do just that.

Though of course they still had their arguments and disagreements, now he would be the first to apologise or to admit his wrong doings.

And slowly, like he had hoped, Y/n began to love him too.

Rebekah, Elijah, Hayley, Jackson and all the other wolves began to notice the much softer side to them both when they touched to spoke to each together. Some were happier than others about the change in dynamics between the two.

Jackson for one, was very put off when Klaus kissed his sister in front of everyone. What was worse was that she kissed him back and asked him to grab her a drink. They behaved like a real married couple. The wolves didn’t like it.

Some of them went as far to verbalise their opinions but Klaus’s siblings were quick to shut them up before they could upset Y/n. They reminded them that it was in the best interests of everyone that the two got along rather than Y/n living a miserable life just for the benefit of the pack. Eventually the majority agreed and kept quiet.

Jackson was most concerned.

Especially when he came round to visit and found Y/n sprawled across Klaus’s lap while reading a book..

“Y/n” he called, his gaze hard as he watched her lift her head and smile before getting up and going out for lunch with her brother. He expressed his worries and she assured him that Klaus was much better now and that she felt that she could love him. Jackson knew that her using the word ‘could’ was solely for his benefit. She wanted to say that she did love him.

With a small sigh he nodded and told her to just be happy and thanked her once more for everything she had done for him and their family.

When Y/n came home Klaus had made her a bubble bath for her to relax in. She laid in the water for a while before getting changed into comfy clothes and wondering downstairs. Klaus was in the kitchen grating Parmesan cheese over two dishes of pasta.

She smiled and sat at the table quietly, smiling at him when he placed the bowl infront of her before sitting down opposite with his own dish.

Klaus twisted his fork in the spaghetti and asked how her day with Jackson was. They chatted while they ate before loading the dishwasher and heading upstairs.

Y/n had been sleeping in his room lately. Mostly because they would accidentally fall asleep beside each-other when watching a film before bed but then Klaus asked if she would feel comfortable sharing a room with him and she agreed.

So this time they naturally just went to Klaus’s room or rather their room.

His eyes watched as she disappeared into the bathroom, a soft hum left her and her hips swayed gently. The tap started running which meant she was brushing her teeth and he followed her in and grabbed his own toothbrush to do the same. He glanced at her in the mirror as she focused on her mouth. He cleared his throat and finished cleaning up before kissing her head and going into their room to get changed into his sleep pants which he had only been wearing because he wasn’t sure if she would be comfortable with him in only briefs.

Klaus was unaware of how Y/n would imagine his naked body against hers, pressing and sliding against hers while they panted beneath the sheets of their bed.

It was why she started wearing tinier pyjamas to bed, in hopes it would entice him that extra bit.

The little shorts would allow him a glimpse of her ass, as though it was teasing him. And the little matching vest top would wrap around her upper body perfectly.

Klaus sat down on the bed and watched as she walked back in. His eyes glanced to wear her taut nipples would press against the Cotten of her clothes down to her long bare legs that he desperately wanted to bury between.

She let out a yawn as she slid into bed beside him and beneath the covers. He pulled her closer so that their bodies fit together like two puzzle pieces and sighed quietly as though having her touch soothed something inside of him.

“Thanks for tonight” she whispered as she leaned up and kissed his lips before laying her head down on her pillow. Klaus hummed and laid down with her.

“Thank you for having dinner with me again” he smiled and she returned it, her hand moved to caress his gently and he held onto hers tenderly.

“You don’t have to thank me for that, I love having dinner with you” she told him and his eyes flickered between hers as he took in her words because they both knew what she was actually saying.

“You do?” He whispered and she nodded.

“I do.”

Klaus kissed her again, for a few seconds longer this time. Just as he pulled his lips away from hers, she pushed them back together with a little more force. He groaned softly, his hand sliding down her back and over the curve of her ass to grip the back of her thigh and lift her leg up so her knee slide over his hip. His hand slid up under her shorts to feel the soft warmth of her pussy against his fingers.

Y/n moaned quietly against his mouth. Both her hands caressed his neck gently before one moved lower. Klaus grunted softly and pulled away from their kiss as he felt her hand cup his erection through his pants.

Their eyes locked as both their hands moved slowly, teasingly.

A small whimper left Y/n as Klaus’s fingers rubbed over her clit. She brought her hand under the waistband of his pants and wrapped her fingers around his cock. Her teeth bit into her bottom lip as she felt the length and thickness of him. Klaus’s mouth fell open slightly as he breathed shallowly.

Her hand pumped his cock slowly as he slipped a finger inside her. His thumb glided over her sensitive little bud, his eyes urging her to please move her hand faster. She complied and stroked him quicker, squeezing as she went.

His hips thrust against her hand while two fingers curled inside her to find her spot.

The whole room became hot and dark as the night deepened and the blankets were pulled over their heads to make them feel closer. Their breathing mixed together and little moans left them both as their hands moved faster.

Their mouths moved together sloppily as moans vibrated from both of them and their body moved in time to meet the other’s hand.

Y/n went first, her neck arched making Klaus move his lips down to suck along her throat while his hips thrust and his fingers fucked her fast. He panted as her cry of pleasure left her and he felt her pussy clamp down and release. It only took a few more squeezes of her hand around his cock for him to cum across her stomach.

They both lay, breathing heavily and looking at eachother. Y/n’s eyes squinted to see him in the dark, his hands were moving her onto her back so he could slot on top of her. Her thighs were nudged open and a gasp left her as the head of his cock started to push into her.

Klaus leaned down and kissed her again, deepening it in seconds so he could taste her while his cock finally felt the soft, wet warmth that he had longed for.

A strained cry of relief left her and her back arched off the bed as he filled her completely. His hands slid up her body and scrunched her shirt up above her breasts so that he could lean down and wrap his lips round one of her nipples.

“Klaus” she whimpered as his hips thrust slowly and his tongue flicked teasingly. He moaned softly around the bud before sucking it between his teeth. He released it with a pop before kissing up along her chest and throat until he took her lips to his. She kissed him back hungrily, accepting his tongue into her mouth without any resistance as his hips rolled faster into her.

He only pulled away from her lips when her pussy went unbearably tight on his cock, he let out a loud groan as he fucked into her as quickly as he could.

The harsh slap of his skin meeting hers repeated through the room alongside her moans for more. Klaus could feel himself getting closer to cumming and he was determined to fill her up. He wanted her to carry his next child.

His tongue traced the shell of her ear as she cried out and his fingers reached between her legs to rub at her clit until she was crying to cum.

“Shh sweetheart” he purred to her, “let me fill you” he whispered and the realisation of what he meant dawned on her.

“Klaus” she whimpered as she felt his cock release inside her. His hips slowed but didn’t stop as his cock softened momentarily before hardening again inside of her still.

He grunted softly as he glanced down at her, his fingers gently rolled over her clit while watching his cock slide in and out of her. He could see his cum spilling out of her and he desperately tried to fuck it back inside.

“I want you to be full of my child” he muttered to her and she moaned softly, her hand lifted to cup his cheek to draw his attention to her eyes.

"I love you" she whispered and he groaned quietly as he kissed her lips just briefly so she could speak again, "and I'll love our children" she told him making his hips buck roughly into her. She moaned in response and wrapped her arms around his neck while resting her head against his. "You''ll be such a good daddy to them" she murmured and a low growl rumbled through his chest as he took the praise and thrived off of it.

Y/n felt his pace quicken and her pleasure heighten making her kiss across his cheek to his ear slowly, "Please daddy?" she purred while her cunt clenched repeatedly and her lower stomach twisted into a series of knots. "Please give me your babies" she begged and he couldn't stop from snapping. His mind and body went haywire making her scream his name. Her body was practically vibrating as her body met his for the hundredth time and her head went back allowing his mouth to reattach onto her neck.

Her eyes rolled back when his teeth sunk into her throat.

Bliss rolled through both of them until their bodies were a heated, sweaty mess amongst the sheets.

His hand held the back of her head holding her face into his chest as they panted heavily. Her eyes closed as she felt him stroke her hair soothingly while he slid his cock out of her and caressed her swollen clit ever so gently with his thumb.

Y/n whimpered weakly and he smiled as he glanced down to watch her brows furrow together while her hips slowly rode the pad of his finger until one last cry left her alongside another orgasm.

Once he had ensured she was finished, he cleaned them both up and then their bed before dropping her down onto the fresh bedding and taking warmth in her giggle when she reached out and pulled him to lay beside her.

Klaus kept her snuggled up to him all night and into the next morning before reluctantly getting up and going downstairs to join the rest of the family.

He knew that everything was finally working out.

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autistichalsin · 3 months ago

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So I don't usually post all that many Astarion thoughts here, but I have noticed that some people feel that a certain set of lines spawn Astarion and ascended Astarion have in the new evil endings would have been better suited for the other. Namely, after the Dark Urge stabs either of them, Spawn Astarion cries, "I should have killed you when I had the chance!" while Ascended Astarion breaks down into inelegant blubbering, "no! No, this can't be. I can't- you can't- no!"

And I can definitely understand where it might feel like these would be better responses for the other- but I happen to completely disagree.

So, Astarion, first and foremost, is a fear-driven person after what he's been through. Everything- manipulating others, seeking power, lacking empathy- comes from his belief that power is all that matters, the only way to avoid being hurt, and only his quest to become the powerful one at last matters.

Through his friendship or romance (in this case, obviously, romance) with the player, though, he starts to find this being challenged. He sees genuine kindness for the first time. No expectations that he lay down his body to get advantages. No using him. His dignity and boundaries respected for the first time that he can remember. This is set against the backdrop of Cazador and the other spawn. If he kills them and takes Cazador's power, he can become powerful enough to never fear again. But if he doesn't, he can be something more than the game Cazador pulled him into when he made him a spawn.

Your confrontation with Cazador is the moment you either entrench Astarion in this belief, or free him from it. If you let him ascend, he becomes all-powerful- at the cost of believing forever that the world is nothing more than an extended power trip, a system where by necessity there are lower people and higher people and only the strong can be free. And he has finally become the strongest of the strong.

So imagine his surprise when you, who he thought was under his thumb, grab more power than him and kill him just like that. No chance to fight back or use his vampire lord powers. He went through all that, sacrificed the core of who he was- and it still wasn't enough. His one concession to his dog-eat-dog philosophy, his love for you, was the thing that let him die. No wonder, then, that all he can do is babble out something between disbelief, a plea, and a last attempt to assert power over you. He was as powerful as he ever could have hoped to be, and he still lost, cast aside by you as soon as he was no longer useful.

Meanwhile, there's spawn Astarion, weaker in every measure- but free of his belief that power is all that matters. He's fought hard and discarded Cazador entirely- including all the power he offered. He committed himself to becoming better. To experiencing a life where things like happiness and love have just as much of a place as sheer power. And he was enjoying it, too, especially with you at his side.

And then you show him that that was all a lie, that he may very well have made the wrong choice by abandoning all that; for all he knows, you may even have talked him out of the ritual specifically so he would be easier to kill later.

So it's not disbelief and begging. Spawn Astarion actually loved and trusted you and foresook his social-Darwinist beliefs for you; what he feels is raw betrayal. And betrayal gives way to anger rapidly. So instead, he's the one cursing you with his last breath. Lamenting that he let you live at all, let alone falling in love with you.

Ascended Astarion became more powerful but more arrogant, so his reaction is that of someone who can't wrap his head around how this could have happened. Spawn Astarion foresook power for the sake of a real relationship with you, so his reaction is utter fury and betrayal.

#astarion #astarion ancunin #ascended astarion #spawn astarion #dark urge #the dark urge #durgestarion #patch 7 spoilers

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feline-insolitum · 11 months ago

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i was gonna put this on a reblog to this post but i decided it needed to be its own post so here we go

LOOK AT HIM!!!

most other trainers will be super badass or cool whenever theyre terastallizing their pokemon. but kieran just kinda stands there devoid of life. he looks like hes not even there. almost like he's just... dissociating through the whole thing

you can also see eyebags that his teal mask model didn't have. he's been working himself to the absolute bone to get stronger. another character (i forget who) even says hes been sacrificing sleep just to get stronger. its very obviously been taking a toll on him

but looking back on the battle as a whole, this wasnt even the only time where he looked dull and lifeless. for the entire battle, when hes not being dramatic on purpose, he just looks so out of it

you cant look at these pictures and tell me hes mentally present. the left picture isnt even timed to make him look like that. his expression is like that the entire time hes giving that line of dialogue.

and again, you can see visible eyebags!!!

i think part of it is that hes imagined the battle against the protagonist so many times since getting back from kitakami that it's feels like it's already happened to him, and he's just reliving a memory.

maybe another part is since hes gotten back, hes just been battling non stop when he has the chance. to him its just another battle. initiate, defeat, get stronger. rinse and repeat. its so repetitive that half the time he doesnt even know who hes battling. i feel like thats the case here, maybe sometimes he forgets hes even battling the person that he became this strong to defeat in the first place

i think why he did this to himself is because of more than "just getting stronger". after everything that happened in kitakami: gaining a friend, only for them to lie to and betray him about the thing he loves most, then for them to get closer with his sister, who would consistently shut him down, then on top of it all, ogerpon chose us, and even in trying to battle us for her, we beat him.

that is a lot to have happen to you in just a couple days, so i think part of the non stop training is him trying to cope. in trying to make up for "being too weak", hes also trying to escape reality and forget that those things even happened. he looks so out of it for the entire battle because he is. thats why he has such a reaction when we use ogerpon against him in battle. because by doing that, were reminding him

this is all part of why he freaks out so hard when we beat him. aside from his whole complex of getting stronger specifically to beat us, its because hes already imagined beating us so many times that to him, it already kinda happened in his sleep deprived mind. its because hes won battle after battle since getting back from kitakami, so after being in this rinse and repeat cycle of battling and winning, us losing causes him to finally snap out of it.

after the protag wins, hes genuinely confused that he lost. but he knew how strong the protag was going into this. i think its because, for the majority of the battle, due to not being mentally present, he forgot he was battling us.

this, as well as how often he wouldve imagined him beating us, explains very well how surprised and shocked and panicked he is that he lost. "this wasnt supposed to happen" because it was just another battle, and he wins battles. "this wasnt supposed to happen" because he already imagined him beating us so many times that it had to have been real, right?

and because this monotonous cycle he was in that was actively draining him of energy was broken by us beating him, everything that he hadnt had the energy to process since training is hitting him like a truck now. ogerpon, the betrayal, how he kept losing to us, how he just lost to us right this moment, its all too much and he cant handle it. and so he crumples to the ground and has a mental breakdown

i didnt mean to turn this into a whole character analysis on kieran but i have a LOT of thoughts on his character and how hes written

#ERROR 501 #pokemon #pokemon sv dlc #pkmn #pkmn sv dlc #indigo disk #pokemon indigo disk #kieran #kieran pokemon #kieran pkmn #rival kieran #trainer kieran #champion kieran

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soulofapatrick · 11 months ago

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Falling Into You - Stiles Stilinski x Female Reader

Summary: you and stiles finally give into your unknown crush on each other

Words: 2.6K

Warning: Heated makeout session; if you squint there's dry humping

Y/N’s POV

Living with Stiles has been far from boring. Ever since my dad was killed and my younger brother - Isaac - went to live with Derek, Sheriff Noah Stilinski graciously opened his home to me. That meant living with Stiles too, and let me tell you, it has been anything but dull. Stiles has this knack for turning even the most mundane day into a storytelling session filled with the antics he and Scott get up to.

I’ve grown to love it here. The Stilinski house is like a second home, and the sheriff is like a second dad to me. He’s been incredibly supportive, especially during the tough times. And then there’s Stiles. He’s… well, he’s Stiles. Quirky, witty and always wearing that mischievous grin.

Lately, though, something’s shifted. I’ve caught myself stealing glances at Stiles when he’s not looking. His passion for solving mysteries, his loyalty to his friends—there’s something undeniably endearing about him. Maybe it’s the way he cares for everyone around him, or the way he throws himself into every insane situation without hesitation. But it's more than that. There's a warmth in his laughter, a genuineness in his concern, that makes my heart flutter a bit faster. And as much as I try to ignore it, I can't deny that a crush has been slowly blossoming.

Living under the same roof, it’s hard to keep these feelings under wraps. I find myself wanting to spend more time around him, hoping for moments where it’s just the two of us, away from the chaotic everyday that is Beacon Hills. Yet, I’m also terrified. What if he doesn’t feel the same way? What if it ruins our friendship or makes things awkward while living with him?

Stiles is currently sat cross legged on my bed, looking so engrossed in whatever supernatural mystery he's delving into. His dedication is admirable, even if it means sacrificing proper posture for the sake of research. I can't help but steal glances at him every now and then, admiring the furrow in his brow as he concentrates.

I wish I could tell him how I feel. But the fear of ruining what we currently have, the fear of changing the dynamic between us, it’s suffocating. So instead, I go back to focusing on my assignment, the words blurring on the page as my thought drift back to him.

The room is quiet except for the clicking of keys and the occasional muttered comment from Stiles. As I sit at my desk, trying to concentrate on the assignment in front of me, my mind wandering again—this time an entirely different scenario and it’s one that feels both exhilarating and terrifying.

I can’t help but imagine what it would be like to set aside the fear and uncertainty, to sit next to Stiles and lean in, closing the distance between us. What would it be like to press my lips against Stiles’? Would they be as soft as they look, as warm as his laugh? My heart races at the mere thought, a flurry of emotions dancing within me.

I picture the moment vividly: closing the space between us, feeling the warmth of his breath mingling with mine, and the anticipation before our lips meet. I imagine his hands, tentative yet steady, finding their place on my skin, maybe on the curve of my cheek or the small of my back. How would it feel to have his touch ignite a thousand sparks, to feel the electricity between us?

There’s a mix of longing and hesitation, the desire to experience that connection, yet the fear of disrupting the comfortable equilibrium we've found in our friendship. But in my mind's eye, it's a beautiful chaos—a leap into the unknown, a chance to explore something deeper, something that might exist beyond our late-night conversations and shared moments.

Before I can continue imagining me and Stiles the said boy breaks my thoughts, “Hey Y/N! Come here,” He speaks, excitement in his voice but his eyes never once leaving the screen.

I force myself out of the reverie, blinking away the vivid daydreams as Stiles called out to me. His excitement is palpable, contagious even, and I push aside the rush of emotions to focus on the present.

I rise from my chair, feeling a strange mix of anticipation and nervousness as I make my way to where Stiles is seated. He’s still hunched over the laptop, his attention entirely captured by the screen. With a careful step, I settle on the bed behind him, leaning over him enough to rest my chin on his shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of what’s got him so intrigued.

His warmth seeps through the fabric of his shirt, radiating against my chest, a sensation I try desperately to ignore. The scent that envelopes me—a blend of old books, faint traces of motor oil and a lingering hint of coffee—should be distracting, but it’s oddly comforting. It’s quintessentially Stiles, a unique combination that feels inexplicably familiar and reassuring.

I glance at the screen, feigning interest in whatever supernatural phenomenon has grabbed his attention. But truthfully, my focus wavers between trying to understand what he’s showing me and the proximity between us. His presence feels magnetic, drawing me in, yet I fight the urge to let my thoughts drift into forbidden territory.

“Look at this,” He exclaims, pointing to a section on the screen. His enthusiasm is infectious, and for a moment, I forget the inner turmoil, getting lost in his excitement.

Stiles is engrossed in explaining something on the screen, his energy palpable. I try my best to keep up, nodding along as he talks, but the proximity between us amplifies every emotion within me.

Suddenly, he turns his head, excitement lighting up his russet eyes as he tries to make a point. His words trail off mid-sentence, and in that suspended moment, our faces are unexpected close. I feel his breath, warm against my skin, a sensation that sends a shiver down my spine.

As if in slow motion, I notice every tiny detail—the freckles scattered across his pale skin, the way his eyes dart down to my lips for the briefest moment before meeting my gaze again. My breath catches in my throat, and I’m sure he can heart the erratic beat of my heart. There's a shift in the air, an unspoken tension that crackles between us. His cheeks flush with colour, a shade of red that matches the intensity of my own emotions. I can't tear my gaze away from him, from the way his eyes flicker between mine and the way his lips part, as if searching for words that elude him.

For a moment, time seems suspended, our silent exchange speaking volumes. I feel a surge of courage and vulnerability intertwine within me, a silent plea for something more, a leap into the unknown.

But just as quickly as the moment arrives, it slips away. Stiles blinks, breaking the trance, and clears his throat, shifting slightly away. "Um, sorry, got carried away there," he stammers, his voice a tad higher than usual.

The air feels charged with an awkward tension, heavy with the weight of unspoken words. I try to ease the discomfort by standing up, intending to head back to my desk and salvage what’s left of our usual camaraderie. But before I can even take a step, Stiles’ hand shoots out, wrapped around my wrist in a swift motion that catches me off guard.

Caught off guard by the sudden proximity, I stumble and practically find myself in Stiles's lap. His warmth envelopes me, and for a moment, our heartbeats synchronise in a chaotic rhythm that seems to echo the unspoken emotions between us.

Stiles’ eyes lock onto mine, a mixture of anticipation and vulnerability swirling within their depths. His tongue darts out to wet his pretty pink lips, a nervous gesture that betrays the intensity of the moment. Before I can fully comprehend what’s happening, his hand finds the back of my neck, drawing me closer.

In that heartbeat before our lips meet, the world around us seems to still. His touch sends a surge of electricity through me, igniting a fire that I didn’t know was simmering within. And then, finally, our lips touch in a kiss that feels both anticipated and inevitable.

As our embrace intensifies, the laptop becomes a mere afterthought, pushed aside to make way for the burgeoning heat between us. Stiles's movements are deliberate, his hands finding my hips with a confident touch, guiding me to straddle his lap as our bodies mold together.

The kiss deepens, the connection between us sparking a newfound intensity. Stiles’ hands, warm against my skin, slip under the fabric of my teeshirt, sending shivers cascading down my spine. His touch is electric, fingers tracing patterns along my hips, a gentle yet possessive hold that ignites a fire within me. I tangle my fingers in his messy hair, feeling the soft strands between my fingertips as I tilt his head back slightly, deepening the kiss. There’s a dominance in his action, a confidence that surprises me but also excites me in ways I hadn’t anticipated.

His lips move with purpose, fervent and seeking, a silent demand for more as our breaths mingle in the shared space between us. Each movement, each touch, feels like an unspoken confession of desires long kept hidden.

My heart races as I lean into him, relishing the sensation of his lips against mine, the way his body responds to my touch. And as I lose myself in the passion of the moment, it becomes clear that Stiles, despite his usual playful demeanour, possesses a commanding presence that takes my breath away.

As the intensity of the moment heightens, Stiles’ touch remains both from and reassuring, his hands guiding me with a tenderness that contrasts his newfound dominance. With a gentle yet firm pressure, his long, nimble fingers press against my back, coaxing me to lower myself onto him. There’s an undeniable pull in his touch, drawing me closer until I’m lying atop him, our chests pressing together in a shared rhythm. Our breaths mingle in the small space between y=us, the heat of the moment making the air around us feel charged.

His chest rises and falls with each breath, syncing with mine, creating an unspoken harmony. The sensation of our bodies pressed together sends jolt through me, an electric current that ignites every nerve ending.

As I rest against him, feeling the steady thud of his heartbeat against mine, a rush of emotions floods over me—desire mingled with a newfound intimacy, vulnerability meshed with a sense of comfort in this uncharted territory.

Stiles's gaze holds a mixture of passion and tenderness, a silent understanding passing between us in the shared silence. His fingers trace gentle patterns along my back, a gesture that speaks volumes, conveying a reassurance amidst the fervour of the moment. His lips part as if to speak but instead, in a very Stiles fashion, a torrent of words spill out in a hurried stream.

“I-I've wanted to do this for so long, and I'm sorry, I should've asked, I mean, I wanted to ask, but then this moment happened, and I just... I didn't want to ruin it, but I should’ve—" He babbles, the words tumbling out faster than I can comprehend. His apology mixes with an admission that he’s wanted this as much as I have, and amidst his rambling, I can’t help but laugh softly, finding the sudden flood of words endearing.

Before his apologies and explanations can continue, I decide to silence him the best way I know how. With a gentle yet decisive motion, I cup his face in both hands, capturing his lips in a kiss that speaks volumes, stealing away his words and replacing them with the silent language of our shared desires.

The kiss is deliberate interruption, a way to convey everything I’ve been feeling in a single moment. It’s a tender yet firm assertion, an assurance that words are unnecessary amidst the eloquence of our connection.

As our lips meet, I feel a shift in the air, the nervous energy dissipating into something more serene. Stiles’ initial surprise melts into a reciprocated warmth, and soon, the kiss becomes a dance of shared affection and unspoken apologies. In that suspended moment, the kiss becomes a story of its own—a narrative of unspoken emotions conveyed through the gentle meeting of our lips. Stiles's initial surprise gives way to a newfound ease, his lips molding against mine with a familiarity that feels surprisingly natural yet exhilaratingly new.

His touch, tender yet assured, ignites a cascade of sensations. His hands explore, tracing the contours of my back, sending tingles racing along my skin. There’s a delicate balance in his touch, a mix of reverence and longing that speaks volumes about the dept of his emotions.

As our kiss deepens, I’m enveloped in a whirlwind of emotions. Stiles’ lips against mine feel like a discovery—a blend of softness and fervour, an unspoken language that surpasses any verbal communication. Each movement of our lips is a revelation, a testament to the unspoken connection between us. His closeness has a gravitational pull, drawing me in and enveloping me in a sense of security and desire. In this moment, I feel cherished, desired, and seen in a way that goes beyond mere words.

The intensity of our kiss, a universe of emotions contained within, is abruptly interrupted by the jarring ring of Stiles’ phone. Startled, we break apart, a shared groan escaping both of us as the moment fractures, replacing by the intrusion of reality. Stiles fumbles for his phone, his expression a mix of frustration and resignation. With a sigh, he answers and puts it on speaker, revealing Scott’s urgent voice on the other end, asking if Stiles had found any leads.

As Stiles responds to Scott’s inquiries, I take the opportunity to sit back up, adjusting my position so that I’m straddling his waist. The shift seems to catch Stiles of guard, his breath hitching slightly, and I can feel the bulge pressing against my ass. I watch as Stiles bites his lip, a subtle attempt to suppress any involuntary sounds, his focus divided between the phone call and me, shifting on his lap. His eyes meet mine for a fleeting moment, and I can see a hint of frustration at the interruption, mixed with a smouldering intensity that sends a thrill through me.

Leaning closer, I offer an apologetic smile, silently acknowledging the disruption but unable to resist teasing him but grinding my hips against his, pretending to get more comfortable on his lap. I notice the way his breath catches again and his hands dart for my hips unsure if they want to stop my hips or help me roll them against that growing bulge.

“Sh-shit,” A moan escapes him and Scott falls silent as Stiles’ cheeks bloom a pretty shade of red, “Fuck, I gotta go, talk later.” And with that Stiles is hanging up, practically throwing his phone on the floor and in one quick moment has us flipped over so I’m laying underneath him.

“Hi.” I breathe quietly, an ache between my legs.

“Don’t you ‘hi’ me you little tease.” He grumbles, leaning on his elbows either side of my head.

“What you gonna do about it?” I challenge, loving the gleam in his eyes.

Stiles chuckles softly, his eyes dancing with mischief as he leans closer, his breath brushing against my lips.

"Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea what you've started."

Teen Wolf Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023

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multi-fandom-imagine · 10 months ago

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May I please request headcanons for Dante reacting to his female S/O sacrificing herself during a fight against a powerful demon so he and everyone else can escape? Happy ending please ��

A/n: I miss writing for DMC, I need to replay that game again. I do apologize if this sucks.

Did not realize what you were about to do until it was too late, he did not even have a chance to react since Nero was already pulling him away.

He tried to put up a fight, god did he try but he was already to injured, to tired, to weak. He should have been stronger. He should have been able to protect you....but he didn't.

"Get your fucking hand's off of me." Dante did his best to struggle agains't Nero. "I have to go back to her. I'm not going to let her sacrifice herself."

Gritting his teeth, Nero did his best to pull him away, away from you. Away from where you were fighting that demon. He was not about to let your sacrifice he in vein, you did this so they could escape. "Cut the shit...she did this to save us....we need to go."

Hates himself, he should have been stronger, why was he so weak. Feel's worthless, so much doubt fills his mind. Did he really do the right thing? Why did he leave you alone, he should have died with you.

He felt numb, treating his own wounds, he hated that he was safe while you were gone.

It make's him sick how he'll never see your smile again, hear your laugh again. He just wants to hold you in his arms.

"That was a...damn good distraction." A weak laugh escaped your lips. You had a limp in each step you took. You were covered in cuts, scraps, hell the man wasn't even sure how bad your wounds were but you were alive....you were alive!

Your name spilled from his lips as he rushed to you, he ignored Lady and Triss, Nico and Nero. He had yo hold you, he needed to feel you in his arms.

"Fuck, you look good doll." Dante tried to remain strong, tried to remain his flirty self but he couldn't. Seeing you here, feeling you against his chest. He couldn't help but break down.

"I love you." Dante whispered into your neck, tears damping your skin.

Letting your fingers slowly run down his back, you relaxed into his embrace. "I love you too."

#hc #hcs #dante sparda #dmc dante #dante x reader #dante x you #dante x y/n #dante sparda x you #dante sparda x reader #dmc #dmc x reader #dmc x you #dmc x y/n #blurbs #blurb

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extremely-judgemental · 4 months ago

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Can we talk about Tamlin again? His story is infinitely sad.

During his younger years, he hides his true nature for the fear of his father and brothers. He has no interest in being a High Lord and is completely satisfied working with his brothers-in-arms and protecting his court. Ultimately his powers come through and he's hated by his brothers. He obeys every command from his father so that he isn't assumed to be a rebel and ends up betraying his mentor. Since then he lives in fear of Rhysand and resists him little whenever insulted because of his guilt.

With his father's murder he becomes the one thing he didn't want to be. He has to leave the life he loved to become someone his people need. Despite the lack of proper training with the court matters, he accepts the one job he always hated.

He offers home to Lucien making an enemy out of Autumn, his neighbouring court which no one would do for a complete stranger who isn't much of a benefit to his court in any way. Lucien becomes his only friend, confidant and family.

I think no one talks about this part as much as they should. When Amarantha establishes her rule, he's the only High Lord allowed to walk out freely. She gives him fifty years to break the curse. Not only is his court condemned all the same, he can't blame failing to save Prythian on his imprisonment like the other HLs could. Knowing Tamlin is warrior at heart, it's heartbreaking that he has to willingly send his 'brothers' to their death. What isn't addressed (enough or at all) is the resentment others UtM or in Prythian develop towards him for not undoing the curse already or trying enough when he stopped sending his sentries out to die. Every time Amarantha does anything remotely cruel, Tamlin would be blamed too for turning his back on entire fae population. Somehow this is glossed over as if fifty years of captivity wouldn't affect the way others see Tamlin.

He finally finds someone who loves him and could potentially break the curse. He ensures her family is taken care of when he didn't have to, long before they fall in love with each other. But he sends her away for her safety damning himself to more blame and hatred. He accepts his fate as Amarantha's toy when the woman he loves returns only to be treated like a circus animal and tortured and abused. He watches as the entirety of fae population bets against her life, watch Feyre almost get killed twice and truly killed once.

Once they are free, he has to build his court back up and also protect Feyre and his people. Even after all those years, he doesn't trust himself qualified to be a HL and takes advice from anyone including Ianthe who manipulates and betrays him, who he believed to be his friend.

We know how it goes from here. Feyre leaves with the one who abused her UtM. Rhysand gloats whenever he can. Tamlin makes a deal with someone crueler than Amarantha. He believes Feyre finally is safe from Rhysand only to realise she's played him. He loses Lucien. He loses the trust of the very people he cared about so much. He cares about the realm enough to spy for the other courts though no one believes him or even likes him. He helps Feyre and her sister. He helps bring the one man he hates so much back to life for her sake. Even after everything his court still suffers from what Feyre and the war did. For a soldier to watch his land wither away, it must be one of the worst nightmares.

There's one scene that always gets me. The one in ACOMAF where Tamlin is with his sentries, talking and laughing with his people during some gathering. That was supposed to be his life, he almost had it if he had the chance to heal. But all of it was stripped away because he loved Feyre and tried over and over again to protect her, blindly sacrificing everything for her. Then I remember Tamlin in his manor, empty and in ruins, with no one around.

To come to think of it, he has received hate almost all his life. Sometimes, rightfully so. But mostly for none of his fault. Maybe he deserves a break after all.

#tamlin #not anti/critical feyre post #sjm should just kill him already if she's gonna make it worse for him #making him a villain is a cheap shot to make Rhys look a hero #acotar critical #sjm critical #surface level thinking #can't read between lines

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the-badger-mole · 4 months ago

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She knows

Zuko had thought his feelings for Katara were his secret. He'd never spoken to anyone about them, and he hadn't been treating her any differently since he'd figured himself out. His feelings were his burden alone, and he intended to keep it that way. Still, she knows ricocheted through his mind. His heart seemed to beat in time to words in his brain as he tried to process everything. The clamoring of the soldiers rushing up the stone stairs; the sound of the stolen air ship coming up behind him; the feel of Katara's lips on his.

Her fingers were clenched tight around the collar of his shirt. Zuko had just come to his senses enough to reach for her waist, intent on pulling her closer, when suddenly Katara shoved him backwards off of the ledge of the broken balcony. An airbender would've caught themselves and vaulted back onto the stone legdge. Zuko was no airbender, though. Their airbender was...someplace else. Zuko wasn't entirely sure of where. So when Zuko landed on the deck of the airship with a bone rattling thump, shock kept him there for the time it took him to refill his lungs. By the time he scrambled to his feet, the ship was already pulling away. Zuko had just enough time to see Katara turn from him to face his father's soldiers. She was outnumbered by at least a dozen, but she stood tall and firm, and even from behind, Zuko could see the determination in her stance. She would fight and die to make sure that he got away safely.

"No!" Zuko shouted. He threw himself at the railing, intent on getting back to her by any means necessary. He would leap from the deck and figure out the rest on his way back. Two sets of strong hands kept him from enacting his plan.

"Let me go!" he demanded pulling against the hold on him. "I'm not leaving her!"

"Zuko!" Sokka shouted. He and Suki pulled hard throwing him against the wall of the ship. "Stop!"

"Turn back!" Zuko half demanded, half pleaded. "We have to go back for her!" He was met with Sokka and Suki's twin grimaces.

"We can't," Suki said, grimly. "We have to get you to safety."

"I don't care about my safety!" Zuko insisted. "I can't leave her behind! Sokka, she's your sister! How can you just-oof!" Sokka's punch didn't hurt so much as it caught Zuko off guard.

"Don't you dare!" Sokka growled. He stood over Zuko, rage radiating from him almost tangibly. "Don't you dare imply I'm not just as worried about Katara as you are. If it wasn't for the fact that we need you to survive the war, I would've thrown you back to them to save her in a heartbeat. But the next best thing I can do is make sure my sister's sacrifice isn't in vain. That mean's getting you to safety and making sure you don't do anything stupid like trying to take on a whole troop of firebending soldiers.

A thousand arguments flew through Zuko's mind. They were superimposed over the image of Katara facing those same solders in his mind. Everything in him was demanding they turn around that instant and rescue Katara. His gambit for the throne was meaningless in comparison to Katara's safety. So what if she had willingly sacrificed herself? So what if he were summarily executed by his father, or even his sister? His own life meant nothing if Katara weren't in it.

Sokka was right, though. Zuko was loathe to admit it, but he was right. Katara knew what she was doing, even if Zuko was certain she didn't understand the full consequence. She'd saved his life. Again. Impotent and helpless as he felt watching her do it, she'd done it willingly. She'd done it strategically. His heart railed against it, but his mind knew why she'd done it. He had the best claim to the throne, after all. They'd talked about it to exhaustion. He'd told Katara all his worries, and she'd calmed them with her certainty that he was the Fire Lord his nation deserved. He'd never gotten the chance to tell her that he though she was the Fire Lady his nation needed, though they didn't deserve her by a long shot. He'd never told her that though he didn't deserve her, he needed her. Like he needed water.

She knew, though. She knew his weakness, and she'd used it. Zuko could still feel the pressure of her lips on his. Could still feel the way her hand tightened on his collar as she prepared to shove him away even while she was pulling him closer. She knew what she could do to him even in the midst of battle.

"They probably won't kill her," Suki said quietly. Both Sokka and Zuko looked up sharply.

"What?" Sokka gasped.

"They probably won't kill her," Suki repeated. "She's too valuable a prisoner. The daughter of the Southern Water Tribe chief? The... the friend of Prince Zuko? She's useful. If she surrenders, she will have a fighting chance." Suki's mouth was pressed into a thin, grim line. She was upset, too, Zuko realized. Maybe almost as upset as Sokka and Zuko were. Only almost, though. Zuko couldn't imagine his future without Katara in it, and Sokka had always been his sister's protector. As Zuko met Sokka's eye across the deck, he knew the Water Tribe warrior had made the same decision he had. If Katara was alive, neither would rest until she was safe again. The details of their rescue mission would have to wait until they could discuss them in private, but they would be going after her.

Part 2

#atla #zutara #zuko and sokka #buddy duo rescue mission #because zuko would never leave her behind or forget that she'd been captured #sokka's not letting this go either #anti maiko #because zuko IN CANON threw himself in harms way for his friends #but he completely forgot mai even existed after TBR #i'd like to use this scene in a fic #i just haven't figured out where to put it yet

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aashi-heartfilia · 5 months ago

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Why do we need a Ochako and Hawks conversation before the manga ends

I've been waiting for their conversation for centuries! Like these two definitely need to talk.

Ochako managed to do something that Hawks couldn't do. Toga and Twice both were really nice people and it's just their quirks led them to despair and they both realised this.

Hawks didn't wanna kill Jin Bubaigawara but he did because in his way, he was trying to be a hero, so he brutally killed his own friend but then what kind of hero does that? In MHA, there's a very thin line between heroes and villains and that has been pointed out several times.

Even with Ochako and Toga. Remember when Toga told Ochako how she used Ochako's quirk to kill a bunch of people during their 2nd battle? Ochako was horrified. The same quirk that Ochako uses to make everyone's problems weightless quite literally was used to kill people.

Ochako and Toga are very similar. They're both very cute and shy, they love to tie their hair up in buns, and even love the same boy which is why when Ochako wasn't able to empathize with Toga, she was hurt because she thought at least chako would understand...

Horikoshi loves to draw parallels between certain characters and their storylines and one such beautiful parallel is this...when later on Ochako notices Toga's tears in the final battle.

"She loved seeing people happy. So of course she zeroed in on her tears"

Beautiful narration, amazing storytelling

It is a way for us as readers to tell that Ochako has now grown, as she is now seeing Toga as a person, not as a villain, just as a person who was sad and crying.

Like it's outright stated for us in the manga, so I don't understand people who think Ochako never got any character development because this is exactly where she differs from Hawks ideology.

Hawks was able to sacrifice Twice for the greater good, even if he himself regretted it later. The Public Safety Hero commission must have made him do other terrible things as well and he might have killed some more villains in secret just like Nagant.

We can cut him some slack though cause he was just following the orders, but then so did Ochako. Tsu even points it out, that killing Toga would have been much easier just like Hawks suggested, but her friend Ochako took a harder route and is trying to confront her.

Plus, Hawks had a chance to correct his mistake and yet when Twice (actually Toga) appeared in the battlefield again, his first instinct was to kill him.

MHA is not a story about killing people for greater good. We've seen in the latest chapter how both Dabi and Endeavour survived the war and while Dabi would live for only some time, he would have some moments of peace with his father. They can at least try to heal what was broken.

Killing twice was definitely not a good idea cause his will continued within Toga. She took her revenge and killed so many heroes on the same battlefield. As long as their despair and sadness is not confronted, the problem is not yet solved. We've seen it with Toga and Shigaraki.

Which is why I said that Ochako passed where Hawks failed.

Both Toga and Twice died, but at least Toga died smiling, happily to save someone she loved. Twice died to save his comrades while Toga sacrificed herself to save Ochako, an act of true love by the so-called villains.

And this needs to be addressed.

Plus there has been too much of a teaser about it...

Hawks witnessed the impact of Ochako's speech in ch 325. And she was the last thing that came to his mind before passing out...

Plus even their covers are a big parallel!

So with all that being said, if Ochako and Hawks didn't have a conversation before this manga ends, it would really be such a missed opportunity and quite a shame.

~Sunshine

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lythpomme · 2 months ago

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steve harrington blurbo

gn!reader (i believe), friends to lovers, snowstorm happenings, steve the serial dater (...)

unedited, dialogue heavy. just needed to write something and get it out to bring me back into the groove. (IVE NEVER WRITTEN A KISS SCENE GOODBYE) i do apo;logize if the ending is rushed! ~1.3k

the crackle and warmth of the fire relax your muscles, allowing you to sink further into mrs harrington's plush carpet. you hear steve’s gentle footsteps down the stairs. you stare up at the popcorn ceiling, shadows of the fire entertaining you with a dance. mussed chestnut hair makes its way into your peripheral, steve tilts his head in question, “don’t tell me you caught a cold too.”

you close your eyes as you shake your head, “nah, i wore my jacket and scarf the whole day. she doing okay?”

the ‘she’ in question being robin, fast asleep in steve’s bed. a thermos of chicken noodle soup and ibuprofen on his bedside table. steve nods, and sits next to you, knees pulled up to his chest. he rests his forearms on them, “yeah, out like a light as soon as her head his the pillow. i was lucky enough to be able to put a blanket over her body,” he scoffs, not so much annoyed as he is amused, “like fuckin’ dead weight, i swear.”

you laugh softly in response, nudging his foot with your elbow, “y’check her pulse?”

steve rolls his eyes, teasingly poking the dip of your waist. touch gentle and playful, never harsh or rough. a beat passes as you both relish in the comforting heat coming from the hearth. crackles of firewood fill the living room. the glow of moonlight against snow brings the memories of the day back to you. sprinting out of family video to close shop early due to the weather. sledding with the party, making snowmen with el and will, robin sacrificing her scarf and toque for them. defending said snowmen from max and lucas, competing in an ‘all-out snowball war’ as declared by mike. eddie running away from hopper, who was bringing joyce’s infamous apple cider.

a smile rests on your face, genuine content filling up your heart. steve pokes you with his socked foot, “whatcha smilin’ about?”

“the snowstorm, gave us a chance to goof around with the party again.”

“oh, yeah. best day ever. finally scored a date with michelle too.”

you open your eyes, “oh right.”

the fire crackles and steve continues, “i mean, her taste in movies is kinda meh. but that’s just a little bump in the road, yanno? if she’s the one.”

you sigh and sit up to face steve, and you really get to see him now. face half-illuminated by the orange glow of the fire, cozied up in a random wool sweater. honey-coloured eyes viridescent in the moonlight. “you know, you really don't need to be concerned with finding ‘the one’ so fast.” his brows furrow in response— you continue, “its just that, you’re so hyper-focused on finding love that you aren’t able to see it's all around you.”

steve sighs softly in frustration, “you know that’s not—”

“no, i know. but i mean, in general. you keep looking for the type of love that’ll complete you, or make you feel complete. you’re draining yourself.”

the golden glow against his face flickers, the fire crackles as if it’s telling you to feed it. steve blinks, he diverts his gaze from you. gently, you grasp his forearm, “i love you steve.” his head raises, his eyes lock onto yours. mossy brown shines in golden light, filled with hope. his breath hitches, you clear your throat, “uh, we love you. robin, the kids, hopper and joyce… everyone.”

steve’s eyes stay locked onto yours, “by ‘here’ you mean…”

you run your hands through your hair, bringing a knee up to rest your forearm against it. you sigh, slightly annoyed, “no, steve. not nancy.’

“wha— no, no. not nancy, definitely not.”

you grasp onto his arms once again, “listen, steve. one day, you’re gonna meet someone. not now, maybe tomorrow, but definitely in the future. you’re not gonna expect it. maybe it’ll be long past the time of family video, where the water has taken us to different paths. but you will, “you gulp down the knot in your throat, “find someone. and they’re going to be so, so lucky to have you as their life long partner.”

steve shakes his head, a loose spitcurl falling in front of his forehead, “no, no…” he breathes out your name in amusement, like he’s been searching for sunglasses that were on top of his head, “i don’t mean nancy.”

you quirk your head to the side, unnoticeably so, but steve sees you and continues, “you’re right. i’ve been putting my all into trying to find something that’ll fill the… i-don’t-know, hole in my heart, or whatever. but i— i think i know now.”

you furrow your brows in confusion, looking off to the side before meeting steve’s eyes once again, “what?”

the boy in front of you takes a deep breath, “there’s always been this person, in the back of my mind, that i’ve always told myself is untouchable.”

immediately, you shake your head. you know where he’s going with this, “no. no, steve i’m not going to be—”

as you stand up, steve follows you. breathing out your name in exasperation, he grasps your hand, “they’ve always been out of reach, someone i knew i could never have.” you stop, but don’t meet his gaze. he tilts his head to try to catch yours, “earlier, do you mean that?”

you look everywhere but his eyes, stammering, “i- i don’t know what you mean. i mean, you know what i mean. what i meant….”

steve smiles, his nose scrunches, “you love me, right?”

you miss it, eyes glued to the floor. you shrug, “yeah, uh, that’s what i said…”

the fire glows onto your face now. it flickers and it crackles, the boy in front of you holds onto both of your hands. “in the same way robin does?”

you shrug, turning away to hide the tears that well in your eyes. immediately, steve is concerned, gently cupping your cheek to meet your eyes.

“heyheyhey, its fine if you do. i’m sorry, i read this whole thing wrong.”

finally, you look up at him, eyebrows furrowed and eyes widened in complete confusion, “wait, what?”

it’s steve’s turn to be confused, his eyes flicker to the side and back to you. “you’re the person i’m talking about.”

your eyebrows shoot up in realization, your mouth drops in a silent ‘oh’. he continues, “sorry, sorry— i made this so awk—”

“i do! love you, i mean. in that way.”

steve’s expression softens, he cups both of your cheeks. the fire glows against his back, encapsulating the two of you in your own bubble. it crackles and you smile, grasping onto his wrists. he leans closer to you, “like, love-love me?” you nod, steve grins. he asks, “can i kiss you?”

you feel blood rush into your cheeks, your heart beats out of your chest. “yeah.” you whisper.

he leans in, you close your eyes. his lips slot perfectly against yours, you don’t care that they’re slightly chapped because it’s steve. the steve you went to high school with, who got roped into your babysitting gig. the steve you’ve always admired from afar. its awkward at first, but you find your rhythm. you move your hands to the nape of his neck and gently grasp at his hair. he cradles your cheek with the utmost softness, as if you would shatter. the warmth of his palm engulfs your neck. he breaks away hesitantly, leaning his forehead against yours, “i’ve always wanted to do that. i… i knew that if i ever had you that i’d screw it all up again.”

you shake your head, “no, never. you are scored on my heart, harrington. you’ve had me since day 1.”

he laughs, and his nose scrunches in that particular way that you love. “no way. asshole and all?”

you peck his lips, “unfortunately.”

he leans in and kisses you silly.

its 12am and i have school tomorrow pls like and reblog if u enjoyed tho! and comment im always looking to grow and improve!

do not repost my work at all! i do not condone putting it into ai either! this is my work!

#steve harrington #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington angst #pomme writing #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things

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skzms · 7 months ago

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🌊 ೃ‧₊◜ sea may rise, sky may fall chapter X

pairing: lee know x f!reader x han jisung

summary: and despite it all, there's still a fight to lead

word count: 8.8k

warnings: mentions of main character death but not actual main character death! as I mentioned in the series warnings; vague allusions to suicidal ideation and thoughts of sacrificing oneself; grief; panic; depression; violence and blood

author's note: i am so sorry, it had to hurt! but everything will be okay, within this chapter already. only this and one more regular chapter before the epilogue. are you ready to see han yujun's demise? i know i am. mwah mwah ily all

this series is 🔞, so minors, please DNI

series masterlist // skzms masterlist

< interlude - chapter XI >

This is what it is. Pain, salt, blood. Wood, cotton, metal. Sleep, awake, dreams of death. One gunshot that keeps echoing in your ears. Over. And over. And over. Again.

You sit down on the steps leading to the forecastle deck at the front of the ship. Your aching, brittle body hits the solid planks of worn wood, and you can feel every single one of them underneath you. You look around. It’s still the same as when you sat in this exact spot on your first night on it, albeit with a few more bullet holes chipped into the railing, knife marks in the masts. It feels nice to be able to tell the story of most of them yourself.

The world is silent, except for the waves. There never are many sounds this far out at sea, where you are now. Taking the long way around Eleuthera Island. Not passing too close to Dunmore Town, not taking any more chances. Seungmin had suggested it. You had agreed. Two more days didn’t make a difference. Han Yujun would die at the end of this journey.

There are no birds this far out, of course, because there’s no land for them to rest. The only sound, the wind, ripping at the sails. Knocking a wooden peg against the mast over and over again. And waves. Water lapping at the ship. Jeongin isn’t singing. He hasn’t been in the mood much.

The wind cuts like it only does on cloudless nights. You shiver. Feel that your body is alive, despite it all.

It’s the first time you’ve been alone in days.

You sleep in Jisung’s cot with Felix every night. It’s where they carried you, after you collapsed. Not that you remember. Everything after the gunshot is darkness. Felix had filled in the blanks the day after, after you woke up. Sunlight on your face, the smell of Jisung, and a warm, skinny body wrapped around your back. A moment of silence. Then, pain. Unimaginable pain.

After the gunshot, you had collapsed. Screaming, sobbing, completely out of your mind. They’d decided you weren’t stable enough to be on your own, so they carried you into Felix’s cabin, deposited you into Jisung’s abandoned cot. Felix couldn’t take it. He told Changbin to heat up some stew for everyone for dinner, climbed into bed with you and wrapped his arms around you. He stayed there all night. Held you through the heaving, desperate sobs, drying your tears, his deep voice murmuring sweet nothings into your deaf ears.

The next day, you forced yourself up. You nearly fell. Felix caught you before you could smash your skull open on the dresser. He had yelled for Changbin, who had stumbled in from next door half dressed, half crazed with panic, expelling the deepest sigh you ever heard when he saw that you were okay. Felix asked him to fetch you some breakfast and some coffee, didn’t allow you to take a single step out of the cabin until you ate. And you did. As much as you could, which wasn’t much, but you did. Then you got up. Reassured Felix that you were fine. Put on your bravest face while the inside of your chest felt like an empty grave. You made it to your cabin. One of Minho’s shirts was thrown over the back of your chair. You broke down. This time it was Seungmin who found you. He didn’t say a word, wrapped you up in a blanket, took you upstairs, deposited you right behind him on the quarterdeck, where he could keep an eye on you, and went back to the wheel. And that’s where you sat. Quiet. Hurting so much, you didn’t know where else to go, what else to do. You don’t remember what you thought about that first day, if you thought about anything at all. But you know you didn’t move until the sun started setting.

Until Seungmin softly said your name, crouched down in front of you, smoothed a gentle hand over your hair. Asked you if he should get Felix.

You nodded. Felix came, whisked you off downstairs, back into his cabin. The smell of Jisung made your body ache, but you couldn’t go back into your cabin. There was nowhere else to go. And here, you had Felix, who fed you soup, spoonful by spoonful as he chattered. You could see the dark circles around his eyes, the bloodshot white of them telling the story he didn’t want to tell. It made it all so much worse.

You stayed that night, and the night after that, and the night after that. And he never turned you away, only smiled at you and opened his arms. Sometimes you would cry, sometimes he would. Sometimes either of you would wake up sobbing in the middle of the night and the other held them. Sometimes you just talked. And sometimes you were both exhausted, and you would simply wind your arms around each other, let yourself be comforted by each other’s warmth and fall asleep.

It became a ritual. The two of you, in Jisung’s bed, against the world.

The second day dawned, and you swallowed it all down and got up again. This time, Felix didn’t even resist. He called for Changbin. It was the first day of the routine that would remain the same every single day. You weren’t a fool, you knew they were doing it for you. You didn’t fight it. In the morning, Changbin woke you and Felix up with a gentle knock, a soft call of your names. He accompanied you to your quarters. (On that second day, when you saw that Minho’s shirt was gone, you froze right there, in the doorway. You had asked, quietly, brokenly, if Changbin knew if they kept Minho’s stuff. The relief was guttural when he said they did. He asked you if you wanted them to get rid of it. You shook your head. Mumbled out a quiet ’never’.) You let Changbin deposit you on the edge of your bed while he drew you a bath. While you washed yourself, he remained outside, telling you the latest developments through the door.

Then he would say his goodbyes, and Hyunjin would stroll in, just at that moment, bringing you breakfast. He sat with you, ate with you, chatted about everything under the sun, until he had to go and Seungmin picked you up, took you upstairs to sit with him while he steered you around the countless sandbanks and islands. You spend your day there, staring at the horizon, quietly gathering your strength in Seungmin’s comfortable, silent companionship, your mind simultaneously whirring and eerily quiet as the whipping sea wind made you at least feel half alive. After the first day, everyone knew they’d find you there if they needed something. Gaon was helping Hyunjin with the next ration plan and wanted an okay for a budget for new bedding? San had a question about armament for when you reached Andros? They found you there. Approached you only after Seungmin gave them a terse smile.

Chan had dinner with you every night. His presence was nice. Calm. Solid. He chatted to you about things going on on the ship, told stories in his sweet voice, good and bad, about his parents, his childhood, his life as a prizefighter before you gave him another option. Then, after dinner, Jeongin would usually knock on the door and take you up to the top where you would both lie on your backs and stare at the stars. Sometimes he would sing as he kept a look-out. You would talk, but more often than not you were quiet. But when you did talk, you often tried to make him laugh. It was one of your favourite sounds in the world, even when it was streaked with sadness right now.

When the moon reached its zenith, Jeongin would help you down the sails, down to where Felix would already waiting, eyes heavy with sleep and, nonetheless, a beautiful smile on his lips. Always hopeful.

And the next day it would repeat itself.

With all of it, you can’t believe it’s only been days since … . They feel like months, these days, as they travel through your body. It hasn’t been long enough to forget. You remember it all too vividly. Warm hands. Golden skin. Raven hair. Cutting eyes. Skin against skin against skin. A heart shaped smile and a giddy little bunny toothed giggle. It hurts so much that you wish you could forget. That time would pass faster, that you could finally breathe again without missing them, missing them, missing them. But you can’t. It doesn’t stop hurting. It hurts so much that you can’t blame Changbin for refusing to leave you alone, even when you bathe. It hurts so much that sometimes you stumble when you get up the few steps it takes to get up to the quarterdeck, and Seungmin has to catch you, has to support you up.

Because you no longer believe Jisung is alive. The way Han Yujun’s captain had spoken, it was clear that he was either dead already, by Trott’s filthy hands, or his uncle would kill him as soon as he set foot into his house again. The realisation had found you deep in the night, Felix’s deep breaths puffing against your neck. It wasn’t sudden, the fact of it just … settled into your bones as you watched the moon through the porthole. The pain spread through your veins so slowly, you could feel every inch of it, until you could feel nothing else. Until your whole body was throbbing, inside out, with the loss of him. You had started trembling again, earth-shattering sobs waking a disoriented, panicked Felix, who had pulled you close, shushed you, asked you if you were okay, if anything hurt. But you couldn’t speak. You wailed their names into Felix’s chest until you fell asleep from sheer exhaustion.

Where the pain is, there’s also emptiness. A gust of wind sears through the thin material of your coat, the stars twinkle in the big vast nothing above you. It mirrors the big vast nothing inside of you, where it’s suddenly, for the first time – silent.

The kraken is gone. You have no idea where it went. Maybe it finally escaped, broke out of your ribcage with your screams, slithered out of your guts with the bile that you expelled over the side of the ship when your world went black. Maybe Chan had pulled it out of your throat when you were screaming and thrown it overboard. You don’t know. All you know is there’s a quiet inside of you now. It’s painful, like the feeling of an empty stomach when it starts to hurt.

The kraken is gone, and you’re utterly alone with the words you never said. You remember your dad’s lucky necklace. Wonder what they did with it when they found your stepfather’s dead body.

You blink up at the stars again. You wonder if it’s even colder up there. If what’s left of you would just blend into the darkness, or if you could find a purpose there, too. Maybe, if you looked hard enough, you could find Minho again. It makes you want to try.

You try not to think like that, you really don’t. You can’t. Because there’s work to do. Your crew, men who signed onto your legacy because they believed in you, all of them with you on this journey to avenge them. To make them proud, to keep true to your promise. This was bigger than you.

Distantly, you hear the door to below deck open, Felix’ voice, tentatively calling for you. So soft, so gentle, so pitiful. You can’t believe that tone is for you. You never wanted it to be like this. You’re disappointed in yourself.

When he finds you, spots you from the other side of the deck, a relief floods his features that makes something akin to anger rush through you. Felix. Having to worry for you.

“There you are,” he hums, and gently plops down beside you. He’s a calming presence, his skinny little body always running hot, a perpetual smile on his pretty lips, no matter how badly he’s hurting, soft blonde hair somehow always smelling like sun warmed fruit and toasted spices.

“Wanna go to bed?” He asks. More sugar-laced pity.

“I won’t break, you know,” you say, your voice not harsh, but cold. But Felix doesn’t take it personally. Knows you too well for that. Knows grief too well. You don’t deserve him.

“I know,” he hums, leans back a little so he can look you in the eyes, makes sure you can see just how earnest he is, “to be honest, you’re handling this a lot better than anyone else would.”

He’s still smiling, but you can’t bring yourself to smile back. The grief has hollowed you out, so painfully that you can feel the cold biting into the shell of you. You wish you could forget. You just want to forget.

You shrug and Felix shuffles closer again, throws an arm around your shoulders. It feels like second nature now. Like Felix had always been attached to each other.

“You don’t always have to be so strong, you know?” he says softly, “none of us expect it of you.”

You shake your head, stare straight ahead.

“You may say that, but we all know that reality is different. If I fall apart, who will lead you? Everyone will lose their respect for me. I will leave you all floundering when we’re so close to the goal, just because of my … no. I can’t.”

You grimace, shoot him a pained smile, but you can’t look him in the eye.

“And don’t worry, I won’t come crawling to you every night forever. I will get over it and your life can go back to normal. I can sleep in my quarters tonight, if you want me to.”

Felix shakes you slightly, scoffs, stares at you like you’re being ridiculous.

“Don’t be silly,” he chides. “Have you considered that I need you there, too? Because I’m grieving, too?”

You swallow harshly. His pain, their pain. A brand new well of pain that you can’t even bear the thought of right now. Because it might be the one thing that makes you give up. You steel yourself. It hurts.

“It will get easier,” you force out, your voice colder than you want it to be because you don't believe it either. The pain feels eternal. But Felix once again just seems to understand. He sighs.

“You always talk like your feelings are a choice.”

Something noxious spreads through your body.

“They are. They have to be. How else am I going to survive this?”

A tear drips from the tip of your nose and you curse. You were doing so well, keeping your violent crying fits to when you were curled up with Felix in Jisung’s bed late at night. You can’t start falling apart out here. It’s a slippery slope to a point where you break down entirely, in front of all of them.

“Like Jisung taught us,” Felix says softly, “You love. Let us love you, let us take care of you. Let us return a fraction of what you’ve given us all by taking us under your wing, protecting us, fighting for us when nobody else did, all on blind faith. For leading us for all these years, for keeping us safe and fed and clothed and gifting us a family when most of us thought we would never have one again.”

His words are so genuine it makes nausea settle in your stomach. It’s too much. Too fucking much.

“You don’t have to thank me for that, you know that,” you mumble and Felix laces his hand with yours, squeezes.

“But what if we want to?”

It’s hard to feel, but something warm does bloom, deep in your chest, in the middle of all the cracks and rubble and blood. It almost hurts more than the emptiness.

“And promise me something, captain,” Felix adds, and you look up at him. He looks wise beyond his years in the moonlight. You wonder when that happened. Another thing you missed, failed to see in time.

“When we find them? Let yourself love them, too. Loudly and openly. We would never think less of you.”

You shake your head, your whole chest aching with emptiness emptiness emptiness.

Love. Felix just says it like that. You can’t, but you let yourself use the word now, in the most private corners of the newfound emptiness where the kraken and your heart used to be. You let yourself finally call it what you think you always knew it was. Calling it love only now that it has turned into past tense. You loved Minho. For years, probably ever since you met, since the first time your eyes met and your souls intertwined so tightly you could never be separated again. You loved him with every touch, every kiss, every smile behind closed doors. Oh, you loved him more than you’d loved anyone.

And you’d grown to love Jisung. He, who had waltzed into your life, so likely to be your enemy, but really unlike anyone you’d ever met before. Pretty, pretty face and determined little scowl and soft hot skin, protective and genuine and honest and so, so tender. Like a missing piece, slotting into you, giving you more love than you ever thought you deserved, looking at every corner of you and finding something to love there, too. And loving not with fear, but with a devastating heart-shaped smile, like it was easy. He made you believe that maybe it could be.

But then death found you again, after years of quiet watchfulness, and took them both from you. So cruel, to give them to you to touch, to hold, just to rip them out of your arms before you could even have enough time. You wonder if you did something wrong. If you missed a sign somewhere. If it was trying to teach you something. But no matter how many times you turn it all over in your head, you can’t seem to figure out where you went wrong.

There was blood on your hands again. The people you loved were all dead. And there was nobody to blame but yourself. For failing over and over and over again.

“They love you, too, you know. God, I hope you know,” Felix continues, scoffs like he’s just made a private little joke. “Minho has loved you since the day he met you. He’s devoted to you, mind, body, and soul. And Jisung?! Jisung has risked everything, has fought us all just for a chance to be with you. He reveres you. The way he looks at you, you should see it, when you walk in the door it’s like the sun has risen, and he’s staring straight at it …”

A sob racks through your body, your whole body like an open wound. You dig your nails into your arm so hard you may be drawing blood. But the physical pain does nothing to dull the grief.

“Stop, Felix! Please … don’t,” you sob. “I- I can’t … they’re gone. Don’t … I know what I’ve lost. Don’t make it worse, please, I know … I know …”

“We don’t know if they’re gone–” Felix starts, but you wail, shake your head so vehemently it makes you dizzy. You pull your knees up to your chest, wrap your arms around you like it will stop making you feel like you’re about to fall apart. But there’s nothing that can help. Felix rubs his hand up and down your arm soothingly.

“I can’t do hope, Felix,” you sob, let your head fall onto your knees, “I can’t spend the rest of my life waiting for them to come back.”

“Would you wait for the rest of your life?”

You sob again. You feel like you’re slowly breaking into pieces. The shiver is back.

“For them? Yeah.”

Felix pulls you in, then, into his solid chest, and you let him. He cups your head with one of his soft hands. You cling onto him. A cold gust of wind sweeps over the ship. He pulls you closer, grabs one of your hands in his.

“Let’s go to bed, your hands are freezing.”

The 9 more days it takes you to reach Andros Island fly past you in a blur of pain, emptiness, and your newfound routine. You no longer try to snatch moments alone. It’s like Felix’ words broke something inside of you, unleashing a self-hatred, a disappointment so sharp and unbearable, for everything you could’ve had, everything you never knew you had, that you’re scared to be alone. Scared what you would do if you were.

You don’t know if anyone notices, but you no longer look behind you. Even when someone approaches you from your back, you don’t turn. You walk around them, or wait until they approach you from the front. Keep your back to the wall. You can’t turn, when you know he won’t be there.

Every day you remind yourself of two things.

One: You’ve been alone before. In a way, you always have been. This is no different. You repeat it until you start to believe it.

Two: You have to stick around, if only until it’s done. Because you have a mission. More important than anything else. You will make sure Han Yujun will suffer, for all he did, to the world, to the people, to so many of your men. But now? You will make him beg for the mercy of death for what he took from you.

It’s hard, when, as your body numbs to the pain, you start to see something else in awful clarity. Their pain.

Felix cries, too. With you, yes, but sometimes you wake up in the night, and he’s quietly, privately sobbing into your back. Like he doesn’t want you to hear. Hyunjin’s pretty eyes lack lustre. None of his smiles reach them any more. His hair hangs limply, no longer freshly styled and cared for. He hasn’t sewed anything in two weeks, either, his pile of scrap fabric untouched in the corner of the living area. Chan and Changbin’s smiles come much less easily, their shoulders are always tense. They seem almost jumpy, especially when there’s any unexpected noise or someone yells. Seungmin doesn’t seem to have changed much, on the outside, but you can feel it. His silence is different now. When he speaks, it’s slower, quieter. When he looks at you, it’s like he doesn’t just worry for you, but like the weight of the world sits on his shoulders. And Jeongin – Jeongin almost never sings now. Only late at night, when he thinks everyone is asleep. Sometimes you can hear him when you lie awake in Felix’s cabin. They’re all sad songs. Gut-wrenchingly devastating melodies, lyrics of loss and pain. They break your heart. You never bring it up.

The knowledge that you failed them torments you day and night. That this is your doing. You failed Jisung, you failed Minho, you failed your crew. They counted on you to keep them all safe, to protect them from those who hurt them. To protect them from more pain and loss, of which they all had too much, as you well know. It’s what you always wanted, to give them hope again, a home again. But you failed. Yes, they may still be fine, but their beloved friends are gone. You failed to protect those they loved. They didn’t deserve to lose more people they loved. Especially not because you weren’t smart enough to see it coming, to anticipate that Han Yujun would be a step ahead of you. Twice. It’s unforgivable.

The need to make it right is what drives you forward, what forces you to detangle your legs from Felix’s every morning, drag your leaden body away from the only comfort you know. It’s what dries the tears in your eyes, makes your heart deaden in your chest as your soul becomes more and more murderous. In the absence of them, there is only violence.

Because you can’t lose again. You won’t. You won’t be too slow. You won’t be dulled to their machinations. Because you have to see it coming this time. Or it will cost you everything.

This time, you will do what you should’ve done in Trott’s house. You should’ve given yourself before you ever lost one of them. This time you won’t hesitate. It’s set down on a piece of paper, in the top drawer of your desk. Just a few words. Making your ship over to the one person you know would keep her safe.

This is what you hold on to, until the last day dawns and Andros Island lies clear and green on the horizon. Today will be Han Yujun’s last, if by your sword or someone else’s. Even if it costs you your life.

Felix looks at you differently that morning, Hyunjin falters when he steps into your office. You don’t want to think about why, if it’s the sick sort of determination in your eyes or if they’re scared you’ll fuck up again. You wish you could tell them that you won’t, that today, you will not hesitate, that you’ve prepared for this. But you don’t. If they knew, they would try to stop you. And you can’t risk that.

When the Andros Town harbour comes into view, you have built a wall around your heart so high you no longer have space for doubt. Only acceptance. It’s almost peaceful. Hopeful, in a way, even though you don’t believe in that kind of thing, usually. But the possibility is enough.

The wind is in your hair, the sails flap in the wind. Seungmin yells some last-minute orders to the men manning the sails, Hyunjin arms everyone to their teeth where they wait above deck. The air is buzzing with a nervous sort of anticipation that settles into your bones.

Everything is fine until your eyes fall on another ship, moored closely to the shore.

No … it can’t be …

You stumble backwards. Seungmin’s eyes find you immediately, his body half turned around, a hand already stretched out to you while his eyes still scan over your body to see if you’re hurt, then the horizon, trying to figure out what has upset you so much. But he couldn’t know, could he?

“Anchor next to that ship up there,” you tell him, and to his credit, he only hesitates for the barest moment before he complies.

And the closer you get, the more undeniable it is. It’s his ship. The Captain’s. Your captain, the man who had saved your life, who taught you everything you knew, who had faith in you when you didn’t know yourself. You don’t know what’s scarier – the thought of meeting him again after all this time, or the thought of his ship, but with someone else manning it.

And then there’s the obvious question: what is he doing here? What business could he possibly have on Andros Island, the most avid of the anti-privateer islands. Could he be after Han Yujun as well? Or worse, could he be on his side?

Your mind is spinning so fast it’s making nausea bloom in your guts. That’s what’s left now, after the kraken has disappeared. A gaping emptiness that makes you feel seasick. Ironic.

You swallow it down, will the dizziness away, focus on steeling your voice as you order your crew to pile into the dinghies and row to land. Ignore even Felix’s imploring look as you wait for them all to head out. Chan refuses to sit anywhere but by your side as Changbin rows you out as the last boat, ‘in order to better be able to protect you’ as he said.

It’s silent in the little boat as he rows, the oars slapping against the calm surf, the sun beating down on you on a day that’s as cloudless as it could be. You can’t tell if that is meant to be a good omen, or if death is laughing at you again, preparing to take you in its cold embrace while you stare up into a brilliant sky, and, if you’re lucky, the loving faces of your crew.

“There are other pirates on shore,” Chan murmurs, rips you out of your thoughts. “I’ve never seen them before. Do you think they’re the ones from that ship we anchored next to?”

You nod, try not to let your eyes linger on the shore for too long, foolishly trying to avert the moment of truth for a little longer. You pinch yourself forcefully for being so childish, but it’s what loss has done to you. Leaving you a brittle shell of yourself on the most important day of your life. Pathetic.

“Do you know if they’re friendly?” Chan asks, hesitantly, carefully.

You realise he wants more, but there’s only so much certainty you can give him.

“If they are who I think they are, then there’s a good chance they will be.”

Changbin gives you a funny look, before turning to Chan, clearly silently communicating between themselves. Before all this, you may have called them out on it. Today, you need to preserve all your strength.

Before long, your dinghy hits sand and Changbin gets out, drags it until you can get out of it with dry feet, offering you his arm as he helps you down. The rest of your crew is gathered on the beach, talking quietly among themselves, throwing nervous glances this way and that. Because none of them know, not even you, if Han Yujun is expecting you, or how he will attack. If he will allow you to come find him or if he will bring the fight to you. But so far, it’s quiet.

A little ways down the quay, the strange pirates sit. They’re loud, relaxed, chatting and laughing raucously, taking long draughts from their flasks. It’s in stark contrast to your crew, high-strung and wary. The strange pirates are sharpening their weapons – at least now you know they’re here for a fight, too. You just hope to God it won’t be against you.

You push through your own crew, make down the beach towards them, two sets of footsteps, Chan and Changbin by the sounds of it, immediately breaking off the group to follow you.

As you approach, familiar faces start to stand out – still the same, only a little older. Some of them get up as you approach, their eyes widening in recognition. They look friendly, excited almost, but you don’t allow yourself to let that give you any hope. They turn somewhere in their crowd, and then, as you’re nearly there, almost close enough to speak, their group parts.

A familiar tall man, dressed in all black with a matching big black hat, turns around, and you fall to your knee without even thinking, your body reacting before your brain can think better of it.

Chan and Changbin freeze behind you, Hyunjin makes an undignified noise, then there are more footsteps hurrying along the beach behind you.

You hear him laugh, low and baritone, as he walks up to you. He places a big, calloused hand on your shoulder, and you shake like a leaf.

“Now, now,” he hums, “that’s hardly necessary any more, is it captain Y/N?”

Your head spins, your body feels like it’s not your own, but somehow, you manage to rise to your feet, meet the Captain’s eyes.

As soon as you do, it’s like all the years never happened. He still looks the same, though a little bit older. The wrinkles around his eyes are more pronounced, his nose is bigger, silver streaks running through his unruly black locks. There’s a new scar over his eyebrow.

“Captain,” you manage to say somehow, your voice still a little shaky.

He smiles at you.

“It’s been a long time.”

“I’ve asked for you,” you blurt out, breathless, “every port I landed, I asked for you, wanted to make sure you and the crew were still out there, still fine. But we never crossed paths.”

He shrugs. He’s still smiling, widely and warmly and affectionately, and it simultaneously gives you pause and makes your heart ache with it. He never used to smile this much – at least not at his crew. At you, sometimes, if you did especially well, but even then, it was a rare treat. He was a serious man, with the weight of all the years and losses on his shoulders. But now, he seems …lighter.

“Ah,” he says, “it seems it wasn’t meant to be yet then.”

He says it so easily, as if you didn’t hope, for years and years, that you could see him again, get closure, get … anything. And now you’re here. Without them. You huff out a laugh, but it’s dry and painful. Tears start prickling at your eyes, unbidden.

The Captain pauses, his face pulling into a concerned frown. He places a gentle hand on your arm and leads you down the beach, towards the line of trees bordering the town. Suddenly, he stops, looks over your shoulder in surprise.

“Sorry, sir,” you hear Hyunjin’s voice, shaky but determined, “but we promised someone we would protect her if he wasn’t here to do it.” Pain, pain, pain, empty, hollow, sharp.

The captain seems to think for a second, then nods and leads you further until you’re finally out of earshot of the two crews, dozens of pirates probably oh so curious about what you were breaking down over now. You dig your nails into your palms until you’re sure you’re drawing blood. You wish everything would stop spiralling out of control.

“How have you been?” the Captain asks, and you scoff out a painful laugh. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Chan and Hyunjin.

They’re standing a little ways away, their eyes trained on you. They look ready to sprint into action.

“I’ve killed everyone I’ve ever loved,” you mumble.

The Captain stares at you for a long moment. Watches as you swallow drily, avert your eyes.

“What do you mean by that?”

You can’t look at him when it pours out of you.

“There’s something wrong with me, captain. Everyone I get close to, everyone I …love,” you choke out the words, “they all die. My father, my mother, now …”

Your throat constricts, an echo of the kraken, a painful convulsion in the emptiness. You gasp in a breath of air.

“The one who would protect you, the one they’re here for,” the Captain interrupts you, with a nod towards Hyunjin and Chan, “is that who you lost?”

You nod.

“Him and … I lost both of them. I … killed them.”

You look at the Captain and to your surprise, he smiles, sadly, but softly.

“Silly girl,” he hums, “people die all the time. The whimsy of the fates is not something you have power over. The world doesn’t revolve around you.”

You stare at him. The words filter into you, travel through you, make something inside of you tip off balance. You’re too stunned to speak. He places a comforting, solid hand on your shoulder, squeezes. God, he would’ve never done this back then. He was harsh and cold, always said he wasn’t your friend, he was your captain. The crew had always had to rely on each other to patch each other up after a fight, to sort out fights, to help someone through nightmares. It was one of the reasons why you decided to never be like that, why you always wanted to be close to your crew. Or maybe, a mean part of yourself supplies, you just didn’t want to be alone.

“Don’t take responsibility for things that aren’t your fault,” the Captain continues, “life, and especially this one, it claims its victims at random. There’s no pattern, no celestial plot to torment you. You will find love again, probably have an abundance of it, if the way your crew is looking at you is anything to judge by.”

He looks over at Chan and Hyunjin. When you don’t react, he places his other hand on your other shoulder, gives you a soft little shake. It’s sweet, you think. Fatherly. You would’ve killed for this back then.

“You did well for yourself. Your reputation precedes you, everywhere they speak of you, of the hard fight you choose to fight every day, and how you do it fearlessly and with everything you have.”

He laughs suddenly, loud and rough, and the sound is entirely unfamiliar to you.

“Just the other week I got a drink on the house when the barkeep heard I knew you,” he laughs out, squeezes your shoulders one more time before he straightens up, smiles down at you. “So don’t worry, you’ve done well.”

You shake your head in disbelief, a soft laugh escaping past your lips. You wonder if it’s the first one since.

“I always wanted to say thank you,” you mumble before the rest of your courage leaves you. “For saving me, back then, for taking a chance on the random girl that showed up with blood all over her face. For not taking advantage of me and teaching me everything and giving me my ship–”

“Don’t. You deserved it,” he interrupts you, waves you off like you didn’t need to say anything more.

You scoff.

“I didn’t do anything back then, how could I have deserved it?”

He shrugs nonchalantly, another enigmatic smile on his chapped lips.

“When you walked up, all that determination, that strength in your eyes, the blood smeared over your brow, I knew that if I didn’t take you on, someone else would. And they would take advantage of that determination and use it for evil. Call it instinct, but something told me you could do a lot of good. And now look at you.”

You blink at him, his words a brutal reminder of the reality waiting for you when you return to your crew. Briefly, you wonder if he will have to watch you die today.

“That’s what we’re here for today, actually,” you say slowly, cautiously. You try to straighten up, find some of the decorum fitting your status, instead of crumbling like you’re still 18.

You decide to take the chance, to tell the Captain straight out, to take a gamble on what you know about him, what you’re seeing in his eyes, what you know about Han Yujun and his hatred for all privateers and their hatred for him, and if that fails, in your history – and hope it won’t be the third bad decision you make that will cost a life.

“Well, to be precise, we’re here for Han Yujun,” you start. You keep your eyes on the Captain’s, watching for any micro-expression that could possibly tip you off. “You know what he has done, to this island, the people, the whole region. He’s a leech, a corrupt murdered. And we finally got a lead. Evidence to take him down, once and for all. That evidence was stolen, along with …” your voice breaks and curse yourself for still being unable to say it, but you push through, keep talking like nothing happened, “so we’re back to a more primitive plan: go in there, take care of him the old-fashioned way, find new evidence and get his administration and his coconspirators to hang.”

The Captain takes a moment to contemplate your words, then he nods.

“We’re here for Han Yujun, too,” he finally says, and you hold your breath.

“I’m not nearly as good a person as you are, Y/N. We’re here because he hired us to ship something,” the Captain admits and he looks almost sheepish. “But then had us attacked on the way there. His hired guns were pathetic, no match for us, but they still managed to blow a hole into our ship. So we’re here to demand our payment – and get revenge.”

The breath you expel feels like relief, like hope. You have a chance now. You have a chance. With the captain’s crew and yours combined, you have a force of around 70 pirates. Han Yujun’s house guard, even on a good day, shouldn’t measure more than 30, most of them young and inexperienced, no match for your experienced fighters.

You stick out your hand.

“Well, then, Captain, may I suggest a deal? We fight him together. I get his head and enough evidence to topple that corrupt government of his. You can have as much money, as many jewels, anything you want from his house, as much as you can carry, and the satisfaction of a revenge well exacted.”

The Captain’s lips pull into a smirk, something like pride in his eyes when he takes your hand in his and shakes it.

“Deal, captain Y/N,” he says, throws a glance towards the beach where your crews are still lingering. Then he steps back, gestures for you to move. “You lead the way.”

Chan and Hyunjin are already watching you when you turn around and meet their eyes. You can read the question in their big, hopeful, eyes, the way Chan runs his hand through his hair nervously. You give them a small nod and an even smaller hand gesture that tells them to keep it quiet, but Hyunjin can’t entirely fight off the triumphant smile that threatens to take over his face. But they step back, dutifully bow, stand by as you pass them and follow you back to where your two crews are waiting.

The crews are quiet, each amongst themselves, eyeing each other curiously, but not a single pirate reaching out to the other yet. You’re proud of your men, proud of their loyalty, that they waited for you to come back. A memory bubbles up. Minho, spread out in your sheets, chest bare, hair mussed, both his arms crossed behind his head. His eyes closed, a pleased, almost proud smile on his face. ‘Well, of course they’re loyal. They have the best captain in the seven seas. They’d be stupid not to be.’

“Men,” the Captain announces, and silence falls over both crews. You ache, but a salty breeze picks up, and you feel more alive than you have in days.

“Han Yujun will pay today. We will get our pay and what he owes us for trying to fuck us over.”

A cheer runs through his crew, rowdy and loud. He holds up a palm and they fall silent.

“Captain Y/N and her crew are here for him, too. They have their own fight with him, one that demands his head. And I think it’s safe to say it’s in the interest of all of us, as men, as pirates, as the outcasts of this wretched society, that he is finally dealt with. Captain Y/N will make sure he pays with his life. Let’s make sure we give her and her crew all the support she might need.”

“Three cheers for captain Y/N! Let the pig die!” A voice exclaims from amongst the ranks of the Captain’s crew. Kind eyes, wide nose, half long hair. A memory of his tireless patience, teaching you how to shoot on the outskirts of Nassau in the burning midday sun. Sungjin gives you a smile and a wink. The smile you give him back is almost real.

When you turn to your crew, the first eyes you meet are Felix’s. He refused to be left behind today, fighting proficiency be damned. He said it was because, if Han Yujun was going to die, he wanted to be there to see it with his own eyes. But you think he probably also couldn’t stand the idea of being all alone on the ship with no way of knowing if everyone would come back. You had made Changbin promise to protect him at all costs.

Felix’s expression is grave, determined. He nods, knots his hands together in front of his chest. This is good. I have a good feeling about this he seems to say. You’re inclined to agree, for once. He sticks a fist into the air.

“Down with Han Yujun!” he yells, at the top of his lungs.

Your crew cheers, so does the Captain’s. A small smile creeps onto your face.

At least if you die today, they will still be here.

And so begins the long traipse through town. It’s quite the spectacle: A gaggle of almost 70 rowdy pirates, stomping and singing, rattling their swords, battle cries and laughter, spearheaded by you and the captain, followed closely by Chan and Changbin, Hyunjin and Felix right behind you.

It becomes quite clear, quite quickly that the Captain’s men are louder than yours – and a great deal more bloodthirsty. It’s evident in every single one of their raucous yells. The townspeople that happen to be in your path scramble to get out of your way, hiding in shops and alleys, peering at you with wide eyes. It was oddly satisfying, and so liberating. No false restraint, no playing nice or coy or pretending like you aren’t on a warpath. Only rage, determination, momentum.

But once you finally leave the expensive part of town behind, pass from clean paved streets into the dusty, dirty roads of the poorer districts, the mood changes. Children come running, men and women stick their heads out of windows, doors, watch with fascination as you march through. Some of the Captain’s pirates yell to them, tell them that you’re heading to the governor’s place, that the governor will die today – and before long, there’s cheering, locals joining in with the raucous yells, some working men even joining your procession, with shoddy weapons of their own, more determination in their face than sense. But you don’t stop them.

An uprising against Han Yujun had been unthinkable for so long, his bloody reign over the island and stores of his power seemingly endless – but now, with a small army of angry people, thirsty for justice, there was a chance. And you wouldn’t want to take this chance at revenge from anyone.

And God, maybe you were empty, maybe it was hard to live, but this is what you’d been fighting for for years. You and … you and Minho. Together. If you know one thing, it’s that he would’ve wanted you to finish it. He would’ve wanted you to pull through, make him proud. The pain shudders through your body, but it’s warm this time. You will make him proud. You will avenge him and Jisung. It won’t bring them back, but it will bring you just a sliver of peace.

When you lift your head, Han Yujun’s house lies right in front of you, at the end of the street. At first glance, it looks a lot like Trott’s, though where that one was a cheerful yellow, this one’s a ghostly white, weathered with time and bleached by the sun. It’s also twice as big, the garden only sparsely planted, an ugly water fountain in the middle of the too short lawn. The columns on his house are marble, so are the tasteless statues, cheap copies of European art, no doubt, dotted around. Your stomach turns at the display of wealth when you know what he has been doing to the people.

You approach the gate and the Captain’s men press forward, shove against it until the chain breaks with a loud clank.

A guard appears from the right. He’s dumbstruck for a moment, staring at you, the huge, never-ending group of angry pirates and townspeople, and pales. He scrambles for a tiny gold whistle on his lapel, and he manages to blow one shrill signal before he’s tackled to the ground by one of the Captain’s men.

From the house, what you believe is the courtyard, ten men come running, their weapons drawn, looking behind themselves as they approach. They’re out of breath, one of them already has a deep gash in his arm.

“How …” you mumble out, perplexed. “How are we not the first? Who else is here?!”

The Captain next to you mirrors your confusion, orders his men to spread out, to search the grounds, so there aren’t any more surprises hiding in the expensive English azalea bushes while Chan and Changbin effortlessly step forward to take care of the men from the courtyard.

And that’s when you see it. Out of the corner of your eye.

Emerald green silk, fluttering from a window on the top floor.

Your heart threatens to give out.

It’s Jisung’s jacket, there’s no doubt about it. It’s tied around a broken window frame by its sleeves, fluttering in the stiff breeze, the shining threads shimmering in the sun.

You try to breathe through the sense of urgency, but it's like something’s tugging you forward, as you push past Chan and Changbin. Two more guards try to get into your way. You fight one of them, Hyunjin cuts down the other one effortlessly. The one you’re fighting catches you in the arm with his small knife, but you pay it no mind. More guards come, but your crew has your back. You ignore the blood, the bruising pain as you push forward, towards the house, the courtyard, past the ugly fountain and the azalea bushes.

You round the corner, push your cutlass into the guts of the last guard when you see him–

No jacket, only his white, ruched shirt with one whole sleeve missing, honey skin glistening, brown hair wild and flying as he fights three guards. He’s pouting and scowling, determined, as always, and you swallow down a sob.

Hyunjin rushes past you, and so does Chan, yelling Jisung’s name in relief as they strike at his attackers.

Jisung’s eyes widen, his lips pull into a beautiful, heartbreaking, entirely alive smile and then his eyes meet yours and you run.

The air rushes through your hair and then straight out of your lungs when you crash into Jisung. His arms flying around your waist, lifting you off your feet until your legs can wrap around his waist.

“Baby,” he whispers, eyes wide in surprise, before you lean in and kiss him.

Peaches and sweat and copper and the smell you’ve been sleeping in that’s been fading for the last two weeks but better.Real. Alive.

You breathe him in like it’s the last thing you’ll do on this earth, threading your hands into his soft hair, scratching at his nape until he hums. And he kisses you back, his hand running up your back, pressing you closer, tongue slipping into your mouth, and you want to crawl into his skin. There’s probably blood on your hands, on his, smearing over his neck and the back of your coat. But you don’t care. How could you, when he’s right here. You force yourself to pull back, just enough so you can speak.

“You’re alive …” you whisper, and he melts, his eyes softening, spit slick lips pulling into a smile that feels like the sun is rising.

“I am, baby,” he murmurs. The emptiness inside you throbs.

“Minho …” you breathe, your hands tightening on Jisung’s shoulders.

Realisation zaps over his feature, and he pulls you closer, so close to his body it feels like he’s holding you together, keeping you from falling apart.

“He is, too,” Jisung mumbles, cups your face when the first tear falls. “He’s here, too. We’re both okay, darling. They didn’t get us.”

Relief. Blinding, unbelievable, too good to be true. It’s so big, so all-consuming that it’s too terrifying. You can’t, don’t dare hope until he’s in front of you, not when something else could rip him away from you still.

Your next words force themselves out of your brittle, aching body before you can stop them. Because even if he isn’t, Jisung is right here. You need to tell him. You need him to know.

“I … I love you.”Jisung looks entirely speechless, then he smiles. Your soul sings. He chuckles breathlessly.

“I know, I love you, too.”

A door slams open on the other end of the courtyard and Jisung presses a swift but sweet kiss to your lips before he drops you to your feet. You land, ready. Jisung smirks at you, so maddeningly beautiful, handsome, irresistible the way his eyes glint.

“Now let’s kill my uncle.”

< interlude - chapter XI >

series masterlist // skzms masterlist // kofi

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#stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #stray kids x you #stray kids x y/n #skz x reader #skz smut #skz x you #skz x y/n #minsung x reader #minsung x you #minsung x y/n #lee know x reader #lee know smut #lee know x you #lee know x y/n #han jisung x reader #han jisung smut #han jisung x you #han jisung x y/n

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theminecraftbee · 1 year ago

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I just saw a comment about it on Reddit and I need you to be unwell with me about Cleo and Etho bc what if they are the last two survivors at the end of the series??

I can't really imagine they would betray each other just to win but I could see Etho initiating a fight just to end the series and have a winner.

In my heart, they both go up to a high place like the diving board or the tower above spawn and jump and just leave it up to chance as to who wins. Bc they'd never hurt each other. Like when Etho jumped in front of Bdubs shooting a bow at Cleo after the end of session was called. And Cleo is just a ride-or-die for her allies

OH GOD I DON'T KNOW. because. okay the thing is cleo HAS sort of been one of the final two before; when the divorce quartet were the final four of double life. and she COULDN'T BRING HERSELF TO FIGHT IT'S LIKE A HUGE CHARACTER BEAT. pearl and scott read it as "well now we're fighting" but that was all martyn cleo couldn't bring herself to do anything but run. we KNOW what she does in this scenario and what she does is FREEZE UP BECAUSE SHE CAN'T BRING HERSELF TO HURT HER ALLIES.........

but the thing is. this is the season of etho being much more openly and unabashedly loyal. of deliberately sacrificing himself for cleo. he has, from DAY ONE, refused to let cleo go in any way, shape, or form. he seems DETERMINED to get her to win, no matter what, even through things where it is actively to his detriment to do so. he is being! a protector! even though he claims he isn't!

oh god. this would be the cactus ring all over again except EVEN WORSE i think. i think i would explode, horrifically, whatever ends up happening,

#answered #secret life spoilers #WAILING. I WANT THIS REALLY BAD NOW BUT ALSO THIS WOULD KILL THE ME

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daddy-deathslinger · 1 year ago

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Oooh, I really liked that killers with a S/O who has a particular perk! May I ask for a reader whose perk is to be able to hide very well/slip away easely? As in, they are quite small and so they can crouch and slip through spaces other survivors can't to go unnotinced! Maybe the killer in question struggles to hook them because they keep slipping from his grasp, but reader never mocks him or anything and just runs away until the end of the trial where they leave an item behind as an apology (Hillbilly, Cannibal, Oni and Deathslinger, if it's not too much trouble! If they are too many, feel free to choose whichever!) Thank youuu 🩷

Hi there! What a lovely request, I hope yer happy with what I came up with! <3

The Hillbilly/Max Thompson Jr with a slippery survivor

Max is good at hunting his prey, and he usually finds them quite easily.

But there’s always one person he struggles to catch. You.

Just when he thinks he’s gotten you cornered, you slip away somewhere. It’s really frustrating! How can you find that many cracks and nooks to sneak off into?

And his chainsaw can’t do shit once you’re out of sight again. Sure, he can saw through the wooden walls and search for you, but you’re never there.

It’s as if you disappear from the face of the earth.

One time, after a trial had ended and you, as the last survivor left, had probably escaped through the hatch, he had found something. He was going back into his house when he saw something in the mud of the cornfield.

A necklace. Shiny, must have been made of real gold.

Max had picked it up and examined it, a smile slowly growing on his lips. He knew you wore this kind of necklace, you must have either dropped it or left it here for him to find.

And his heart pointed towards the latter.

The Cannibal/Bubba Sawyer with a slippery survivor

Bubba isn’t the best tracker (it must be hard to see anything through that mask of his), but once he finds someone they won’t get away.

Except you, you always manage to get away somehow.

Be it a dark nook you can slip into, a hole that is perfectly shaped for you, or you simply just wiggle out of his grasp just as he’s about to put you on a hook.

You’re usually gone in seconds, he never has a chance to find you again.

This pains him greatly, you know that. He shrieks and yells in annoyance and anger, waving his chainsaw around in the air when he can’t find you anymore.

It almost makes you feel a bit bad.

A bit, only a bit. Enough to make you want to make it up to him somehow.

Not through sacrificing yourself though, gods no! But sometimes you leave behind small gifts for him to find.

It can be anything, really. A nice can you found in the cornfields, a bracelet that was buried in the mud. One time, you left a doll inside the house in the cornfields, knowing he would find it there after the trial.

You can only hope your little gestures are appreciated.

The Oni/Kazan Yamaoka with a slippery survivor

Kazan is a great tracker. Always has been.

He can smell blood a mile away, and see it as clear as red, shimmering pearls on the ground.

Naturally, prey have a hard time hiding from him once he has injured them.

And yet, there’s one he just can’t seem to ever catch.

This prey just vanishes from his sight the second he has injured them. It’s like they don’t even bleed! Sure, he can find trails of blood here and there, but it never leads him anywhere.

It drives him mad! If you’re in a trial these days, he’s almost certain he’s gonna leave with only three kills. You always seem to find the hatch as well, so.

Sometimes, Kazan finds things.

Things in places it’s never occurred to him to look before, but when he does he always finds a surprise.

It can be a hair tie, or even something of great worth, like a ring or earring.

Once he found a little crocheted doll, with black buttons for eyes.

He doesn’t know where these things appear from, but something tells him they appear from the same source that so easily disappears. And that thought is a bit amusing to him, it almost brings a smile to his lips at times.

The Deathslinger/Caleb Quinn with a slippery survivor

Caleb is a proud man, that much you know.

He hates losing, and losing is exactly what he does these days whenever you’re in a trial.

His swearing can be almost amusing at times, when you peek out from a hiding place and see him frantically search for you. He never finds you, and eventually gives up.

You’ve lost count of all the times you’ve gotten the hatch.

All that being said, you make sure to never taunt him.

You don’t want to rub it in his face, he’s only doing his job here. And so are you. It’s nothing personal.

During the last trial, you had decided to try something a bit different. You had been tinkering on things at the campfire for a while, your latest project was carving a butter knife out of a piece of wood.

It wasn’t particularly pretty, but you liked it.

You had decided to leave it behind for Caleb to find, as a little gift for all his troubles catching you.

So, you had left it inside the Dead Dawg Saloon, at the bar. Then, you had hid.

When the rest of the gang had escaped, and Caleb eventually got back to the saloon with heavy steps, he had found it.

You had watched as he had taken the butter knife in his hand, weighed it (why would you weigh a butter knife??) and examined it.

You will never forget the smile on his lips, as he had whispered: “What in the goddamn…” and put the knife in his jacket pocket before leaving.

#dead by daylight #dbd #the deathslinger #caleb quinn #dbd deathslinger #caleb quinn x reader #the deathslinger x reader #the oni x reader #kazan yamaoka #kazan yamaoka x reader #dbd the oni #dbd the hillbilly #max thompson jr #the hillbilly x reader #max thompson jr x reader #dbd the cannibal #bubba sawyer #dbd the cannibal x reader #bubba sawyer x reader

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peachesofteal · 2 years ago

Text

Duality

Simon Riley/reader or Ghost/reader This concept has been living in my brain for a while and I'm considering writing it into a full fic (maybe?) but for now, here's... this.

500ish words Simon loves you. Ghost does not.

Simon may love you, but Ghost does not.

Ghost hates you. You make Simon weak. You distract him. You threaten his very existence. Ghost does not spend hours dreaming about you, like Simon does. He doesn’t think your laugh is the peal of bells like Simon believes, but the echo of a dying crow. Ghost does not think your skin is soft and lovely, instead it is rough and jarring like sandpaper, uncomfortable against his own. He cannot stand to listen to you drone on and on about your day, or your job, or your moronic companions you call friends. Simon is always so enraptured by your eyes, the flecks of color that surround your pupils, while Ghost thinks they’re fairly non spectacular. Simon is constantly touching you too, taking your too small hands in his, stroking across your skin, dragging his fingertips up and down your arms to make you shiver, pressing his lips to your ear to whisper how much he loves you, how he adores you, how he’ll keep you safe.

Simon’s always making promises to you like that. That he’ll take care of you, he’ll protect you, he’ll make sure nothing ever happens to you.

But he’s lying, and only Ghost knows. Ghost knows you make Simon feel loved, make him feel safe, valued, cherished. Ghost knows Simon wants to return that feeling, wants to hold onto you so tightly that nothing can ever take you away.

And Ghost hates that most of all.

Ghost may hate you, but Simon does not.

Simon loves you. You make him happy, make him laugh, make him feel safe. He could listen to you talk all day, every day for the rest of your life and never tire of it. He could watch you dance around in the living room forever, his sweatshirt hanging at your hips, your feet slipping around in your socks as you fling your arms around his neck and pull him into your body. Since the very first day he’s met you, all he’s wanted is to know you, hold you, be with you.

He'd hide you away if Ghost would let him. Marry you. Give you a baby, make a family with you, have a life with you. A life away from blood and violence and cruelty. A life away from decisions about who stays and who goes, who gets a fighting chance and who gets sacrificed. A life with you, where nothing like that would even exist. A life of love. Of happiness.

He knows it could be real. Simon knows that he could have that with you, if he wanted. If they wanted. But there’s something lurking at the edge of his mind, the sharp edge of a knife that threatens to sever the connection that he’s found in you, the threat of a darkness that could take you away from him forever, and he would be powerless to stop it. Simon knows, Ghost could slip away with you one day and you'd never be seen again. Vanished, gone, taken from him just like the things he's loved before. Powerless to stop it.

And Simon hates that most of all.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley #cod mw2 #ghost cod #ghost x reader #ghost x you #cod mwii #cod mw22 fanfiction #cod fanfic #peaches writes #ghost call of duty #cod ghost

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grimm-writings · 7 months ago

Note

on my hands and knees begging you to write that legally blonde idea… obsessed with the idea of reader thinking chil wants to get back w his ex vs chil just wanting to be friends and crushing hard on reader

take it like a man!

…ft! chilchuck x fem! reader

…tags! fluff, reader is into fashion

…wc! 2294

…notes! chilchuck tims and emmett forrest are the same to me (my type). this is so incredibly self indulgent thank you for enabling me anon. a lot of dialogue is paraphrased from the song/show, such is the way of songfics. enjoy!

Oh, how Chilchuck wished he could say no to you.

He didn’t know what he was expecting from you and Marcille’s ‘sweep your wife off her feet operation’, otherwise shortened to SYWOHF which Chilchuck pointed out was an awful name for a campaign. You elected to ignore him.

In actuality, he really wanted to just do this his own way. What he had in mind was just to pay a visit and talk things through. As those with a little womanly touch, you and Marcille knew that wouldn’t be enough. Chilchuck had to prove he was serious about this – that he really wanted his wife back in his life!

Seeing how excited you were showing off your step by step plan… he didn’t have the heart to tell you that he really just wanted to remain friends with her.

So, here he is. Having his eyes covered by your hands as you guide him through the busy streets of… who knows where.

“Almost there,” your breathless though excited voice reaches his ears, “I promise!”

You finally slow to a stop, and Chilchuck also gets the chance to speak about his thoughts on this. Simply being, “this is pointless. We don’t need to be doing all this.”

Scoffing, you fold your arms. “Don’t be like that! A conversation isn’t the only way to win her over.”

“No,” Chilchuck starts, “but it would sure make me look desperate!” He swats your hands off and away from his face. His back is turned away from the building you’re arguing outside of, not even bothering to see what you’re doing.

You frown. Chilchuck doesn’t easily get so frustrated with you. That’s what people usually say – if anyone can convince him to do anything, it’d be you. “Chil,” you try to appeal. You even try physically reaching out, hand hovering over his shoulder. “Work with me here. We can do this in a way that will prove yourself, and let her know you’ve changed. For the better.”

Chilchuck listens to you, sparing you a sidelong glance as you go on with your speech. “You make it sound like we’re in some romance novel. This isn’t ‘for the better’ I just want to talk to her.”

“No you don’t, you want her back in your life!”

“Well…!” Chilchuck stutters at how blunt your words are. You are way too observant for your own good. He never knows how to talk to you cooly when you do this. “Well, of course I do! And I can do that by slowly building up trust between us again, without rushing anyone.”

Where Chilchuck expects begging to follow through with your scheme, you simply look at him with a cold expression– colder than he’s ever seen you wear. “So you have the chance to run away again if things get too much? Sacrificing your integrity?”

You’re both lucky this little nook in the streets was away from most crowds. Save for the passersby' conversations, the silence would have been strife with weight. Chilchuck opens his mouth, then closes it again. He repeats the action, and tries to use his hands to communicate his thoughts to no avail.

He settles for turning away from you in angered shame, fists balled at his sides and tips of his ears growing red. “...I guess.”

You smile, knowing you have swayed the half-foot to your side. Even in the dungeon, your debates went this way. Chilchuck would present a cynical, logical approach whilst you were more realistic – something your appearance doesn’t really match with. Chilchuck thinks he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Not like he’d say that to your face.

Hearing your confident hum, Chilchuck sighs and turns back to you. “Why do you always have to be right?” He complains about this constantly. You always seem to one-up him in ways he can never prepare for.

“I don’t have to be,” your attitude and voice returns to its usual, jovial form, “when I’m with you, I just am!”

You reach over to Chilchuck once more right as he’s about to make a scathing comment back at you. His face is a bit too close for comfort with a wooden door, an entrance somewhere.

“You trust me to help you impress your wife, don’t you?” You ask, with a clear sense of finality.

Chilchuck doesn’t think he has much of a choice in the matter. “...Of course,” he responds honestly but you can hear his voice waver.

He can practically sense your smile from behind. “Then don’t stop now.”

You wish you could say without a spot of bias that you were 100% supporting the operation at hand. In actuality, it came with a heavy sacrifice of your own feelings remaining unsaid. Of course you just had to fall for the semi-married man. You have already tried to move on, from distracting yourself with an operation like this, to asking Izutsumi to pummel your head with a rock (which she was very close to doing).

This will have to do.

It was like magic, how the environment of the building interior rushes through you. Chilchuck even feels it, his large eyes blinking as he drinks in the sight.

“...Where are we?” he asks, almost dreamily. A beautiful ceiling lamp shines onto coloured wallpaper. The scent reminds him of the kind of perfume Marcille would use. It’s strangely… alluring.

You lean your face over Chilchuck’s shoulder. “Oh, nothing much. Just the most trendy half-foot exclusive clothing store in Kahka Brud.” You can easily sense Chilchuck’s shock from this position – amusing you greatly. “Here.”

You stand up behind Chilchuck again, massaging his shoulders. “Just take a deep breath, and let it sink in. We’ll be here for a bit so get used to the smells and lights. Feel how it draws you in.”

“I’m feelin’ it alright,” Chilchuck responds, moreso about how he has no idea what convinces people to remain in these environments for so long without feeling overstimulated.

He already feels hot with how you’re handling him.

You move around so you’re in front of Chilchuck. “Listen, I know this can be… overwhelming,” you start, giving the understatement of the century, “but think about who you’re doing this for. Swallow your pride and… pick out anything you think is nice. I’ll do the same.”

Chilchuck nods, about to set off, but not before you take his face, squishing his cheeks a comedic amount so he’s forced to pout and look you in the eye.

“Promise me you won’t run. Take it like a man, alright?”

You let him go, and Chilchuck swears the heat on his body is from the stuffy maze of clothes stalls. As he navigates the first selection of half-foot men’s clothes he sees, he tries to ignore the thoughts that seem to non-stop course through his brain.

He’s largely unsuccessful.

What are you getting out of this? Some sort of second-hand pride at bringing together two estranged lovers? Wait ‘til you find out the truth – that those aren’t where his true feelings lie. Why can’t you leave well enough alone?

Why does he let you string him along with every plan you come up with?

You arrive back with a couple of blazer–pants combos, calling out Chilchuck’s name as you do so. Damn, you sure are speeding through the process.

“So, I took the liberty of picking some of the more fancy kinds of suits.” You hold them up in your arms. “Whaddya think?”

“Suits,” Chilchuck repeats dryly, in disbelief of how far you’re taking the idea of impressing a woman. He looks through each of the three upon seeing your determined expression.

He points at the pale pink option. “Absolutely not.”

He gestures to the navy one with a thinner fabric. “I like this one.”

Finally, he only spares at a glance at the creatively patterned suit. “I think I’d sooner be fed to wargs than be seen in that.”

You assemble each of the selections in order of preference. You muse, “I see, I see… Something refined but masculine. Much better than your ‘tattered chic’ look. Like an old book forever trapped in a library.”

Chilchuck furrows his brow as you run off again. “Wh– What’s that supposed to mean, jerk?!”

He sighs. He watches you as you make a few more choices again, before Chilchuck tries to distract himself looking at ties. He’s come this far. He should trust in your instinct. It hasn’t failed him– or anyone yet.

So what the Hell?

Before Chilchuck knows it, he’s handed the acutely sized down, perfect combination of blazer and pants, and he’s stuffed inside a changing room. He’s instructed to change into the whole thing.

As he does so, you can’t help but pace. This is it. This is the winning goal to help him impress his old flame. It’ll be like an academy romance – falling in love all over again like you’re teenagers. You sigh longingly. If only you can be there, in her place.

“You’re gonna look great!” You converse with Chilchuck through the curtain. “You’ll become a whole new man, promise! You’ll bloom like a rose!”

“It’s just clothes,” Chilchuck, in his usual cynicism, calls back.

You return with a raspberry. “Don’t be such a Debbie-downer.”

“Wow. No one’s called me that since grade school.”

“Maybe not to your face.”

Even without looking at him, you can imagine the scoff and eye roll he must be giving you, interrupted by a small choke on his own spit. “Is this the price?”

“Ignore that!” You quickly respond. “It’s my treat! Come out, come out, I wanna see you!”

Better to gloss over the fact you worked hard to do this for Chilchuck with a high budget. No doubt he’d tease you or outright refuse it. You open the curtain and pull Chilchuck out by his arm. He quickly adjusts himself and you both stand in front of the wall length mirror.

“...Woah.”

It’s said naturally in sync. Both of you hardly recognise the brunette half-foot in the form fitting suit and tie. With a bit of hair maintenance and more time to actually make himself look presentable…

“I look like Laios on a good day,” Chilchuck jokes.

Your breath caught in your throat, you can only let out, “y-yeah.”

You pray he doesn’t notice how enthralled you are in his appearance, if slightly ungroomed.

Once the moment passes, Chilchuck makes himself comfortable by loosening his tie and undoing a button or two, then putting his arms where they usually are behind his neck. “But it’s just me.”

Without hesitation, you find yourself speaking without meaning to. “Is that not the best part?”

Chilchuck looks at you in confusion. “What?”

“I-I mean…” you trail off. You look nervous. That’s rare for you. Usually you always had something to say. Now you look like you’re trying to figure out how to word something in a specific way. Why?

You move behind Chilchuck to smooth down some of his hair. “You may look more charming but… this is all you. Your choices, your style… It reflects who you are on the inside. That’s the magic of fashion.”

Chilchuck laughs a little, mostly at his own cluelessness. He can’t believe he’s underestimated a simple shopping trip. “Thank you,” he says, with complete sincerity.

“No.” You shake your head. “This is not a gift. I’m just… This is me thanking you for how you let me get away with so much.”

Your hands land on his shoulders, and Chilchuck’s fingers find their way to interlace with yours. For just a few more moments, you look at yourselves in the mirror.

Catching yourself, you step away from the situation – from him. “Well? Come on, you need to buy this. I’d want to marry you if you took me out looking like this!”

The half-foot flushes red. You got to know what you’re doing to him. “That’s not really—”

“Chilchuck. Please.” You place your hands on your hips, looking dead serious. “You look hot.”

…Well, he can’t argue with you. If you really think that, then who is he to deny it?

“Fine. I’ll get it.”

You smile that cocky grin Chilchuck has grown to love. “That’s our man.”

Leaving the shop was like a breath of fresh, unperfumed air. Chilchuck would nearly fall to his knees and start kissing the ground if he paid too much attention to how his legs ached. The post shopping trip fatigue is really hitting him.

“I enjoyed this,” he however admits. “Maybe women are onto something when it comes to clothes.”

“That’s why you should always listen to whenever a woman is speaking,” you wisely advise, making Chilchuck nod with a slight snort.

He stops at a crossroads, where you go back to his place, and he goes back to his. “You can trust that I will now.”

“Good.” You sigh in relief knowing your venture was successful. Maybe too successful, because now you may lose him.

Chilchuck keeps looking at you with affection. You can’t say you haven’t noticed how he keeps sparing you glances, mostly throughout the shopping trip. Maybe he has warmed up to you?

Still, neither of you can stop yourselves at this point.

You approach, and for a hopeful second, Chilchuck tilts his head a bit to the left, eyelids lowering and leaning into you. Your arms wrap around his middle.

Your face nuzzles into his neck as you hug the man tight. Chilchuck is still for a few seconds. A hug. Right. Of course you’d want a hug… He responds in kind.

“See you soon, Chil. I wish you luck.”

“Y-Yeah. Luck with the lady.”

Your happiness comes with a heavy sacrifice of Chilchuck’s feelings remaining unsaid.

He’ll take it like a man.

#✮ grimm's fics!#dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi imagines #dungeon meshi x reader #delicious in dungeon #delicious in dungeon imagines #delicious in dungeon x reader #chilchuck #chilchuck tims #chilchuck x reader #chilchuck imagines #chilchuck tims x reader #chilchuck tims imagines

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