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fr0stf4ll · 11 hours ago

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A court of Shadows and Moonlight - Part 13

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; In the wake of looming war and changing traditions, a gifted healer returns to the Night Court after centuries of wandering the continents. Tasked with stepping into Madja’s legendary role, she must guide reluctant healers, soothe wounded warriors, and face the entrenched prejudice of Illyrian leaders. But as she mends torn wings and broken spirits, an unexpected bond awakens between her and the Night Court’s enigmatic Spymaster. With rivalries simmering and a dangerous threat looming on the horizon, she must reconcile duty and desire, learning that true healing can extend beyond flesh and bone—if she dares to embrace the light hidden among the shadows.

word count ; 10k

Trigger warning; violence & mention of death

notes; hello lovely people, here is the new chapter ! A bit longer than usual but let me tell you that this one is heavy (and I did cut some of it to put it in the next chapter because I was a bit scared that it would be too much for one chapter). Anyways I tried to do a fun chapter, well ... you guys will see with your own eyes that I always need to make things a bit dramatic (only a little °°333). I think it's really the chapter I enjoyed the most writing so far so I hope that you will enjoy reading it <3. See you all next week, love you <333

thank you again @ailoda for you post it made me freaking emotional <333

previous ✧

The warm glow of the living room lights filled the townhouse, casting a cozy ambiance over the gathered Inner Circle. It was dinner day, and the entire group—Feyre, Rhysand, Cassian, Azriel, Amren, Nesta and Mor—had joined you for an evening of food and conversation. It had been a few days since you went back home after the incident and Feyre had personally come to you that afternoon to invite you, her warm insistence leaving little room to decline. You were drowing in your work trying not to give a thought to the bond and the fact that you hadn’t seen Azriel since.

You’d opted for a simple yet comfortable outfit: wide, high-waisted black pants paired with a loose, long-sleeved blue top with a high collar. The fabric was soft and warm, perfect for the cool night air.

The room was alive with chatter and laughter, and you found yourself caught up in it, smiling despite the exhaustion still lingering in your body. Cassian and Mor were on either side of you, bantering animatedly about Velaris nightlife.

“You mean to tell me you’ve never been to Rita's?” Cassian exclaimed, his eyes widening in mock horror.

“I think once when I was younger, but ever since never.” you replied, shrugging. “I’m too busy saving lives to hit up bars, apparently.”

“It’s not just a bar,” Mor interjected, her hands gesturing wildly as if to emphasize her point. “It’s the bar. Best drinks, best music, best people—it’s a Velaris institution.”

Cassian leaned forward, grinning. “Mor’s right. Even Amren’s been there. It’s practically a rite of passage.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” you said, smirking.

Mor wasn’t satisfied. She nudged your shoulder, her voice taking on a pleading tone. “Come on. We’ll go together when you’re better.”

You chuckled. “Alright, but I don’t know when I’ll have time.”

“When?” she pressed, her hazel eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“Next month, probably,” you answered, trying not to laugh at the look of disbelief on her face.

“Next month?” she repeated, incredulous. “Why next month?”

“Because next week, I’m going back to Windhaven,” you began, ticking the events off on your fingers. “Then I’ve got meetings with the priestesses, and then Starfall is coming, and after that—”

“Okay, okay!” Mor interrupted, throwing her hands up in mock surrender. “I’m going to have to kidnap you just to get you out for one night.”

You laughed openly this time, shaking your head. “Fine, I’ll pencil you in when I can.”

Feyre approached then, her soft voice cutting through the lively banter. “Y/N, do you think you could join me for a painting class on Friday afternoon? And don’t you dare tell me you’re too busy with work.”

You raised a hand, pretending to look wounded. “I wasn’t going to say that. But I can’t make it—not because of work, though.”

Feyre raised an eyebrow, clearly curious. “Then why?”

“It’s my weekly tea time with Madja,” you replied simply.

Cassian immediately perked up, his brows shooting up in interest. “Tea time with Madja?” he repeated, leaning forward with an amused grin. “That’s adorable. What do you two even talk about? Healer issues? New techniques?”

You swatted his arm lightly, shaking your head. “Hey! Just because I love my job doesn’t mean that’s all I talk about. We talk about... other things.”

“Like what?” Mor asked, smirking as she sipped her wine.

You tilted your head, feigning mystery. “That’s between me and Madja.”

Cassian let out a bark of laughter. “I’m picturing the two of you having a serious debate over tea about how to fix my dumbass when I inevitably crash into something.”

“Cassian,” Feyre interjected, rolling her eyes, “Y/N does far more important work than managing your antics.”

“Thank you,” you said to Feyre, giving Cassian a pointed look. “And for the record, Madja and I have very enlightening conversations. You’d be surprised how insightful she is about life in general.”

The group shared a laugh, and for the first time in what felt like ages, you let yourself relax. The lively chatter continued, shifting topics seamlessly as plates of food and glasses of wine were passed around. For once, you weren’t talking about healers’ matters or politics—you were just a part of the group, laughing and enjoying the moment.

The peaceful hum of the room shifted the moment Elain entered, Lucien trailing just behind her. You were talking to Feyre and didn’t immediately notice the change in atmosphere until Rhysand’s voice broke through the casual chatter.

“Y/N,” Rhys said smoothly, gesturing toward the two newcomers, “allow me to introduce Lucien.”

You looked up, your eyes meeting Lucien’s in a moment of mutual surprise. “What are you doing here?” you blurted out before you could stop yourself. The corners of Lucien’s mouth twitched into a small, amused smile, and he stepped forward to give you a brief hug.

“Good to see you too, Y/N,” he replied lightly, though his voice carried an undercurrent of genuine warmth.

The room’s dynamic shifted again as Elain gravitated toward Azriel, who was leaning against the back of the couch. Lucien, perhaps instinctively or perhaps by choice, found his way to your side. The juxtaposition didn’t go unnoticed, though no one commented on it—at least not aloud.

You handed Nyx back to Feyre, who smiled gently at you, her expression tinged with curiosity as she glanced between you and Lucien.

“I take it you’ve met before?” Rhys prompted, his brow lifting slightly.

You nodded, still a little thrown by Lucien’s sudden presence. “Yes, we breafly met when I was in Autumn centuries ago.” you explained. “And then again in Spring—he arrived a few weeks before I left.”

“Small world,” Lucien said with a faint grin, though his sharp gaze flickered to Rhysand, ever aware of the High Lord’s looming presence.

The conversation meandered for a while, touching on casual topics. But then Lucien turned to you, his tone shifting slightly and quietly asked you. “I heard about the healer meeting in Dawn. Did you have a chance to speak with the head healer of Autumn?”

Your expression softened, though a shadow passed over your features. “I did,” you said, your voice quieter. “She’s doing better, don’t worry. But, very honestly, Lucien... she won’t be in her best shape if she stays in Autumn. It’s slowly killing her.”

The room stilled, the weight of your words settling heavily in the air. Rhysand’s eyebrow arched, and you felt an unfamiliar sensation—a gentle yet deliberate tug on your mind. It was the first time Rhys had ever used his abilities on you like this, and though it was unsettling, you allowed it, letting him in.

What was that about? his voice sounded in your mind, calm but edged with concern.

The High Lady of Autumn tried to kill herself, you replied, the words laced with quiet gravity.

The thought landed heavily in Rhysand’s consciousness, and though his face betrayed nothing, you felt the ripple of shock that coursed through him.

Shit, he muttered in your mind, his tone uncharacteristically unsettled. Does Eris know?

Yes, you replied. He’s keeping it quiet, but it’s caused even more division within Autumn. The tension between him and Beron is... palpable.

Rhysand’s silence spoke volumes as he processed the information. You could feel his thoughts flickering through the implications, his strategic mind already piecing together the broader picture.

And what do you think? he finally asked, his tone quieter now.

I think she needs to leave Autumn. Rordan their head healer told me that Day might be an option. But it’s her decision to make, not ours.

Rhysand’s agreement hummed softly through your connection. Keep me updated on her situation—and anything else from Autumn.

You nodded slightly, breaking the mental link as Lucien’s voice drew your attention back to the room. “And do you think she’ll leave?” he asked, his expression unreadable.

You shook your head, offering him a faint, tired smile. “I don’t know. I hope so. But it’s her choice.”

Lucien sighed, his posture stiffening slightly. “It’s complicated,” he murmured, his tone heavy with unspoken thoughts.

“Yes,” you agreed softly. “It is.”

Though the conversation shifted to lighter topics, the weight of what had been discussed lingered in your mind—and Rhysand’s—as an unspoken reminder of the cracks forming in Prythian’s foundation.

You turned to Lucien with a mischievous glint in your eyes. “Oh, by the way, Lila says hi.”

Lucien froze mid-sip of his drink, his eyes widening in a mix of panic and exasperation. “No. Not her again,” he muttered, setting his glass down with more force than necessary. “Why does she still talk about me?”

You burst out laughing at his visible distress, the kind of laughter that left you breathless. The others turned their attention to you, curiosity lighting up their faces. Cassian raised a brow, leaning forward. “What’s so funny?”

You wiped at your eyes, still giggling. “Oh, it’s just... let’s say that during the healer meeting at least the nights we spent talking with the girls, Lucien was a very… popular topic. Let’s just say Lila is quite taken with Lucien.”

“Taken?” Lucien interjected sharply, lifting his head to glare at you. “No, Y/N. Let’s call it what it is—obsessed. I am terrified of her.”

Rhysand, clearly amused, leaned back in his chair with a chuckle. “What does she look like?”

You smirked, ready for the volley of descriptions. “Well, she looks like Tamlin—”

“But with boobs,” Lucien interjected, deadpan, cutting you off.

“And she’s short, like Amren,” you added, grinning as you gestured downward.

Lucien groaned again. “Short, running everywhere, and screaming. Always screaming.”

You burst into laughter again, shaking your head. “Don’t get me wrong—she’s an incredible healer. Honestly, one of my best students. But... she’s something, that’s for sure.”

“That’s putting it lightly,” Lucien muttered, rubbing his temples. “Do you know about the closet incident?”

“Oh gods, yes!” You exclaimed, grinning wide. “That was hilarious when she told us about it. The way we had to make her drink for her to be able to admit it, but don’t dramatise everything Lucien it was just her way to show her affection right?” you looked at him amused.

“She tried to lock me in a closet to stop me from leaving the Spring Court Y/N?”

"Well that sounds oddly familiar?” said Feyre looking at the booth of you.

Cassian’s laugh echoed through the room. “What is it with Spring Court and locking people ? First Tamlin, now this?”

You nodded, struggling to suppress your laughter. “Apparently, she thought it was the only way to get him to ‘listen.’”

You wiped tears of laughter from your eyes.

Rhysand leaned back, still chuckling. “So, to sum it up: she’s like Tamlin, but with boobs, short like Amren, runs everywhere, and... locks people in closets.”

Cassian doubled over with laughter. “You’ve got to introduce me to this Lila. She sounds like a riot.”

Lucien glared at him. “You can take my place if you’re so curious, I’m sure she would love you.”

The room burst into laughter again, the lighthearted banter a welcome reprieve from the tensions that had been looming. Even Lucien couldn’t help but laugh, though his mortified expression lingered.

On the other side of the room, Azriel leaned against the couch, his shadows curling restlessly around him like dark, living whispers. His gaze lingered on you and Lucien, watching the way you laughed with an ease that felt almost foreign to him. You looked carefree, radiant even, as if the weight of the world had momentarily lifted from your shoulders. Lucien’s animated gestures and your bright laughter filled the air, a stark contrast to the tight knot of unease growing in Azriel’s chest.

He shouldn’t feel this way. He couldn’t feel this way.

Azriel shifted slightly, trying to quiet the tumult within him. Elain was seated beside him, her delicate fingers brushing against his thigh in a silent question. He turned to her, her soft gaze meeting his, and he forced a small nod. “I’m fine,” he murmured, though the words tasted like a lie on his tongue.

But he wasn’t fine. Not even close.

He had wanted to cross the room, to come and sit beside you, to feel that inexplicable comfort that always seemed to radiate from you when you were near. Now that he knew about the bond, everything felt more tangled, more painful. The knowledge weighed heavily on him, suffocating in its clarity. How could you sit there, so normal, so composed, when you had known about this bond for longer than he had?

The thought ate away at him. How had you managed to keep it hidden? How had you endured the ache of it, the pull, without letting it show?

Azriel’s gaze flicked to Elain briefly, guilt tugging at the edges of his thoughts. He shifted subtly away from her, a small, almost imperceptible movement. Out of respect for Lucien, yes. Not that he’d cared before—but now, now he understood. He understood the quiet agony of seeing someone he cared about so deeply sitting with another. It twisted his insides in a way he hadn’t expected.

But it wasn’t just about respect. It was about you.

His shadows coiled tighter around him, reflecting the storm in his mind. He didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to untangle the mess of emotions that had overtaken him since discovering the bond. And the hardest part was the longing—to be near you, to hear your voice, to feel that connection that had only deepened with the knowledge of what you truly were to him.

You were laughing again, the sound clear and unguarded. It was a sound he hadn’t realized he craved until now, and it only added to his torment. The way you leaned slightly toward Lucien, your smile bright, as if there was no weight of a bond tethering you to him. As if he didn’t even exist.

Azriel’s jaw tightened, his wings shifting slightly as he glanced at the floor. He needed a moment, a reprieve from the chaos in his chest. From the knowledge that while you laughed with Lucien, he was the one standing in the shadows, lost and unsure.

You had barely met Azriel’s gaze when Lucien raised an eyebrow at you, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement. “Right, let’s not talk about the Spring Court, Y/N,” he said, his tone almost teasing.

“How much time did the two of you spend in the Spring Court together?” Feyre asked, her curiosity piqued.

Without missing a beat, you and Lucien answered in unison, “Three weeks.”

The synchronization caught everyone off guard, and a ripple of laughter swept through the room.

You rolled your eyes dramatically and added, “And that was far enough, if you want my opinion.”

Lucien smirked, leaning back in his chair. “Yes, far enough after nearly killing Tamlin, burning part of his estate, and getting proposed to by his last general.”

The room fell silent, and all eyes turned to you. You stared at Lucien in disbelief, your mouth opening and closing for a moment before crossing your legs and taking a deliberate sip of your wine. “That’s so fake,” you said finally, your tone nonchalant. “I didn’t light the fire. I was just there when it happened.”

Rhysand raised an eyebrow, his smirk growing as he leaned forward slightly. “And tell me, Y/N, just how many people have proposed to you?”

You nearly choked on your wine. “What do you mean, Rhysand? Please.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying himself. Everyone’s attention shifted to you, eyes wide with intrigue. You glanced at Azriel, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, and asked accusingly, “Did you tell him?”

Azriel shook his head immediately, his voice steady. “No, of course not.”

Cassian and Mor, ever the instigators, leaned closer. “Wait, wait,” Cassian said, grinning. “Who else proposed to her? Go on, Rhys. I feel like this is going to be good.”

Rhysand’s smirk widened, his violet eyes gleaming with mischief. “Well,” he began, drawing the word out dramatically, “our sweet head healer of the Night Court could have become the Lady of Dawn, if she had wanted to.”

The reaction was immediate. Mor screamed, her voice full of scandalized delight. “You were with Thesan? Y/N!”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “Yes,” you admitted reluctantly, “and that’s all you’re going to get to know. End of discussion.” You shot Rhysand a black look, though he only laughed, clearly pleased with himself.

“Well,” you said quickly, trying to change the subject, “it’s not to interrupt, but I’m pretty sure dinner is ready, right?”

Feyre crossed her arms, a knowing look on her face. “If you think you’re going to escape this conversation, Y/N, you’re wrong.”

You sighed dramatically, looking up as if to appeal to the Mother above. “Oh, for the love of the mother,” you muttered, but the room erupted into laughter, the tension giving way to warmth and camaraderie once more.

During dinner, to everyone’s surprise, you found yourself seated next to Azriel. He had deliberately taken the seat beside you, leaving Lucien to sit next to Elain. The shift in seating arrangements caught more than a few curious glances. Elain’s worried look flickered toward Azriel, while Lucien, seated on her other side, raised an eyebrow at the change.

You tried to ignore the questions bubbling in your mind, though it was hard to brush aside the unexpected energy between you and Azriel. While you had resigned yourself to the fact that Azriel cared deeply for Elain, perhaps even loved her, this sudden change left you puzzled.

Amren’s sharp voice cut through the quiet hum of conversation, drawing everyone’s attention. “Is this a new table, Rhysand?” she asked, gesturing to the elegant woodwork beneath her plate.

Rhysand smirked, barely looking up from his plate. “Yes, it is. Y/N and Azriel broke the last one.”

You choked on your wine, coughing violently as heat crept up your neck. The room went silent for a heartbeat before Cassian burst out laughing, followed closely by Mor’s cackling. You covered your mouth, trying to recover as all eyes turned to you.

Amren’s silver eyes sparkled with amusement as she leaned forward slightly. “Well, girl, a High Lord, a General, and now a Spymaster. You’re going for all of them, aren’t you?”

Your jaw dropped as laughter erupted around the table. “Oh, please shut up,” you groaned, burying your face in your hands. You didn’t even dare to glance at Azriel, though you could feel the heat of his gaze lingering. The sharpness of Elain’s eyes, however, was impossible to miss. Her displeasure radiated from her in waves, her expression tightening as she glanced between you and Azriel.

“I’d like to point out,” Cassian added with a grin, “that I wasn’t the one who broke a table for once.”

“That’s not something to be proud of, Cassian,” Nesta muttered beside him, though a faint smirk tugged at her lips.

The table settled back into a hum of conversation, though you couldn’t shake the tension that simmered beneath the surface. Every now and then, you caught Azriel glancing your way, his expression unreadable. And while you tried to keep your focus on the food in front of you, you couldn’t help but feel that this dinner was only the beginning of something far more complicated.

The flow of the dinner had been pleasant enough, though Azriel sitting beside you brought an odd energy you couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t uncomfortable, not entirely—but it was different. When it was just the two of you—working, talking, sharing quieter moments—it felt natural, even easy. But tonight, the dynamic felt... forced. Questions swirled in your mind: Did he sit next to you to make her jealous? Why let her mate sit next to her, then? You brushed the thoughts aside, trying to focus on the lively conversations around you.

Dessert was served, and you were half-listening to Feyre and Nesta talk about some shared anecdote when Elain stood abruptly, excusing herself. The movement caught your attention. Lucien’s worried gaze followed her, and when you glanced at Azriel, you noticed the same concern etched into his features. That expression.

The unease it stirred in you was compounded when Elain began moving around the table. Her steps faltered slightly, her balance uneven. You frowned, your healer’s instincts kicking in.

“Elain?” Feyre’s voice held a note of alarm as her sister stumbled closer to where you were seated.

You turned in your chair just in time to see Elain falter entirely. Without thinking, you shot up and caught her as she collapsed, her weight sudden but manageable in your arms. Her head lolled against your shoulder, and a collective gasp rippled through the room. All conversation ceased.

“Elain!” Feyre and Nesta rushed to her side, their faces pale with worry. Lucien moved swiftly to her other side, his hand hovering uncertainly as if unsure whether to touch her. Azriel was right behind him, his shadows curling protectively around him, his expression a mix of alarm and dread.

“Elain, can you hear me?” Feyre’s voice was tight with fear as she knelt beside her sister.

And then it happened. Elain’s eyes snapped open, but they were no longer the soft brown you were accustomed to. They were white—bright, glowing, and unseeing. The sight knocked the breath from your lungs, your grip tightening reflexively as the unnatural glow emanated from her.

“Elain,” Nesta whispered, her voice breaking as she grasped her sister’s hand.

“What’s happening to her?” Lucien demanded, his tone panicked.

You steadied Elain in your arms, trying to process what was happening. Your mind raced as you scanned her for any immediate signs of injury or distress. There was none—nothing physical, at least—but the way her body trembled, her unfocused eyes, sent chills down your spine.

“She’s having a vision,” Azriel said, his voice low and tight.

Feyre nodded grimly at your question about Elain’s visions. “Yes,” she said, her voice tight. “But... she’s never reacted like this before.”

Elain’s body began trembling more violently, her breathing escalating into rapid, shallow gasps. You quickly moved, lowering her to the ground into a safer position, your movements precise and practiced. “Everyone step back,” you said firmly, your voice cutting through the panic in the room. “Give me space.”

The others obeyed, though their worry was palpable. Feyre knelt near but didn’t interfere, her face pale with fear. Lucien and Azriel hovered nearby, their expressions equally stricken. Nesta stood frozen, her hands clenched into fists.

Elain’s trembling worsened, transitioning into full-body spasms. You glanced sharply at Feyre. “Does she usually react like this?”

Feyre shook her head quickly. “No—this has never happened before.”

Your jaw tightened as you assessed her condition. “Alright,” you murmured, more to yourself than anyone else. With a swift motion, you opened Elain’s mouth and carefully inserted two fingers to hold her tongue down, ensuring she wouldn’t swallow it during the convulsions. Then, your free hand hovered just above her head.

You closed your eyes, focusing your power as it began to flow from you. A faint glow radiated from your hand, and your hair lifted as if caught in an unseen breeze. A hush fell over the room, everyone holding their breath as the air grew heavy under the weight of your power. Azriel’s sharp gaze was fixed on you, his shadows coiling around him in tension.

Elain’s spasms began to subside as your power guided her, pulling her gently from the grip of the vision. The glow from your hand intensified briefly before dimming, and her breathing evened out. Slowly, her body stilled. But as the connection between you and her held firm, something shifted—a thread of her vision snagged onto your mind.

It happened so quickly that you didn’t have time to prepare. One moment you were guiding her back to reality, and the next, you were pulled into the recesses of her mind. Shadows enveloped you, thick and suffocating, until the world reshaped itself into the fragments of her vision.

The ground beneath you was barren, cracked, and lifeless. The air smelled of ash and decay, and the sky above was a swirling void of darkness. There were no stars, no moon—only an oppressive, smothering emptiness. Fires burned in the distance, their flickering light revealing the skeletal remains of a once-thriving land. This place had been wiped clean of life, erased by a force too terrible to comprehend.

You turned, searching for Elain in the chaos. And then you saw her. She stood just ahead, motionless, her expression vacant and unseeing as if she were a mere observer in this apocalyptic scene. You tried to call out to her, to reach her, but your voice was swallowed by the void. She didn’t seem to register your presence, her eyes fixed on the horror unfolding around her.

Your chest tightened, and you were about to take a step toward her when something else caught your attention. Movement in the periphery—a figure in the shadows. It was... you.

At first, you thought it might be a trick of the vision, a warped reflection, but the figure stepped into the light, and there was no mistaking it. It was you, yet not. This version of you was eerily calm, detached. You looked the same, but your expression held an unsettling stillness.

Then the change began. Blood trickled from your nose, then your ears, your eyes, and your mouth. The crimson streaks contrasted sharply against your pale skin, but you didn’t flinch or react. Instead, a faint smile curved your lips, haunting in its serenity.

Elain, still oblivious to your presence, stood frozen, her hand lifting to her mouth in silent horror as she watched the scene unfold.

And then, the darkness took shape. A hand, inky and unnatural, emerged from the shadows, its long, clawed fingers reaching toward the chest of the vision-you. The smile on your face remained as the hand struck in one swift motion, plunging into where your heart should have been.

You felt it. The phantom pain. The void. The absence.

You crumpled to the ground, lifeless, and the darkness seeped into the cracks of the earth, spreading like a disease. Elain whimpered softly in the vision, her form trembling as she stared at your fallen figure.

The pull of the vision began to loosen, dragging you back to the present. You blinked, gasping for breath as you returned to your body, the sensation of your heart still pounding in your chest grounding you. Elain stirred beneath you, her breathing shaky as her eyes fluttered open.

Your mind reeled, the memory of what you had seen burning fresh in your mind. You didn’t know what the vision meant, but the chilling image of yourself—bleeding, smiling, heartless—was not something you would soon forget.

You exhaled, opening your eyes to see Elain staring up at you. Relief flickered in the room—until, without warning, her hand lashed out and slapped you hard across the face.

The shock reverberated through the room as everyone froze. You blinked, stunned by the sharp sting on your cheek. Slowly, you stood up, gripping the back of the chair nearest to you as if to steady yourself, your knuckles tightening against the wood. But your face remained calm, your expression carefully composed.

“Well,” you said dryly, your voice steady despite the racing of your heart, “that’s a new one.”

Feyre and Nesta immediately moved to Elain’s side, helping her sit up as she began to regain full awareness. “Elain, are you okay?” Feyre asked, her voice soft but worried.

Lucien stepped forward, his golden eye flashing with unease. “What happened? Why did she—”

“I don’t think she knew what she was doing,” you interrupted, your tone calm and measured, giving nothing away. You flexed your fingers subtly against the chair, grounding yourself as you continued. “It’s normal for someone to act unpredictably when coming out of a vision that strong.”

Feyre and Nesta gently guided Elain toward the stairs, murmuring reassurances as they helped her to her room. Lucien followed close behind, his expression tight with worry. Azriel, however, didn’t move. His gaze remained locked on you, golden eyes scanning your face with quiet intensity.

Slowly, you let go of the chair, shaking out the tension in your fingers. Your cheek still stung faintly, but it was nothing compared to the weight pressing heavily against your chest.

You sighed softly, glancing at the mess of plates and half-eaten desserts left on the table. It felt like the room itself had absorbed the tension of the evening, the air heavy and stifling.

Mother above, what a night. You straightened, smoothing down your sleeves as you regained your composure.

Azriel crossed the room in a few swift strides, his shadows curling low around his feet. His hand lifted slowly, hesitating for the briefest of moments before his fingers brushed against your arm—light as a whisper but enough to make your breath catch.

“Are you okay?” His voice was low, almost a murmur, his thumb grazing your sleeve in a subtle, grounding motion.

You blinked, surprised by the question, by the weight in his tone. “I’m—” Your words faltered, the concern in his eyes throwing you off balance. “I’m fine.”

Cassian, ever the mood breaker, smirked. “Great catch, Y/N,” he said with a chuckle.

Azriel’s head turned slightly, casting Cassian a sharp side-eye that practically dripped with unspoken warning. His shadows flared briefly, wrapping tighter around his boots. Cassian raised a brow, but wisely said nothing more.

You tried to smile at Cassian, though it barely reached your eyes. “Thanks, Cassian” you said softly.

Azriel’s fingers tightened briefly on your arm before releasing you. His touch lingered like a ghost, the warmth of it seeping into your skin. His golden gaze remained locked on yours, searching, as though trying to read something written just beneath the surface.

“I’m fine,” you repeated, softer this time, more for him than for anyone else.

He studied you for a second longer, his shadows curling and unfurling around him. His thumb brushed the back of your hand in a fleeting gesture that felt more like a promise than a reassurance.

“Good,” he said quietly, his voice steady but thick with something you couldn’t quite place. “Let me know if… you need anything.”

For a moment, it felt like you were the only two people in the room, the air between you charged and warm. Then Azriel stepped back, his eyes lingering on you for a heartbeat longer before turning toward the others.

You turned to Rhysand, your voice calm but serious. “How do her visions usually go?”

Rhysand leaned against the edge of the table, his brow furrowed. “Not like that,” he admitted. “She usually comes back to herself without shaking or... whatever that was tonight.”

You nodded, thoughtful. “You’ll need to monitor her closely if this keeps happening. What happened tonight—especially the shaking—is essentially her brain short-circuiting, going on and off repeatedly. I stuck my fingers in her mouth not for pleasure but to prevent her from swallowing her tongue.”

Cassian let out a startled laugh at your bluntness, but you continued without pause. “I helped her out of the vision, but it could be the content of this particular one was too violent, causing her to react that way.”

Lucien, standing stiffly in the doorway, finally spoke. “And if it’s not controlled next time? What happens then?”

You met his gaze evenly, your tone steady but grave. “Asking me that is like asking what would happen if you put a soldier in a war field. There are options, but death is one of them. She could stay in the shaking state without being able to come back to herself or choke—but those are worst-case scenarios.”

The room was quiet as you continued, your voice calm but firm. “It could also completely be a one-time thing. But this is why it has to be monitored carefully.”

Amren leaned back in her chair, her sharp eyes on you. “Well, at least that was clear.”

You smirked faintly at her dry remark. “Clarity is what I aim for.”

Azriel’s eyes lingered on you, his shadows curling faintly around his shoulders as he listened intently.

“I could examine her further,” you added after a moment, “to see if there’s anything else that might explain what happened tonight. But I’d wait until she’s less shaken by it all. Right now, forcing her into anything might make things worse.”

Rhysand nodded, his expression thoughtful. “We’ll keep an eye on her and call for you if it happens again. For now, let’s give her some space to recover.”

Everyone seemed to agree with that plan, though Lucien still looked troubled. The room slowly eased out of its earlier tension, though the weight of what had just occurred lingered in the back of everyone’s minds.

Azriel’s gaze lingered on you, his golden eyes dark with worry. As the room shifted its attention to Feyre and Nesta returning, he leaned closer, his hand brushing lightly against your arm. The touch sent a ripple of awareness through you.

“Are you sure you are okay?” His voice was low, barely audible over the quiet murmurs of the others.

You blinked, caught off guard by the genuine concern in his tone. Was Azriel truly worried about you?

A soft smile tugged at your lips, and you shook your head lightly. “Don’t worry. A little slap isn’t going to kill me,” you said, throwing in a wink to lighten the mood.

Azriel’s lips quirked ever so slightly, but the tension in his shoulders didn’t ease entirely.

Feyre’s voice broke through the moment. “Elain’s sleeping now,” she said, her tone carrying both relief and exhaustion.

Lucien exhaled audibly, a wave of relief washing over his features. Feyre turned to you, her expression warm with gratitude. “Thank you for your help, Y/N. I don’t know what we’d have done without you.”

You nodded, brushing it off lightly. “I’m just glad I was here when it happened.”

Rhysand’s eyes flicked between Feyre and Nesta, his expression sharpening. “Did she tell you anything about her vision?”

The two sisters exchanged a weighted look, Feyre biting her lip before she finally spoke. “Yes,” she said hesitantly, glancing at Nesta for confirmation.

“It’s not good,” Nesta added, her voice steadier but no less grim.

The room fell silent again, everyone waiting for Feyre or Nesta to elaborate. The weight of whatever Elain had seen hung heavy in the air, and you couldn’t help but feel the knot of tension coiling tighter in your chest. Azriel’s hand lingered on your arm for a moment longer before he pulled it away, his expression hardening as he braced for whatever was coming next.

Feyre exchanged a tense glance with Nesta, the silence thick and suffocating. Then, with a heavy sigh, Feyre began to explain, her voice trembling slightly.

“She told us about what she saw… about death, war, and darkness sweeping over everything. But the most terrifying part was…” Feyre’s voice broke, and she looked at Nesta to continue.

Nesta, ever composed, took over. “She saw you, Y/N. In the middle of it all. And…” She hesitated, her steel facade cracking for just a moment before she forced herself to say it. “She saw you...”

The room fell deathly silent, everyone frozen in place. Azriel, standing beside you, visibly tensed, his golden eyes narrowing as he processed the words.

You straightened, your expression unreadable. The weight of their words wasn’t new to you. You had already seen it yourself in Elain’s vision, and now, hearing it spoken aloud, it only cemented what you had felt.

“I know,” you said quietly, your voice steady but filled with an edge of resignation.

Every head in the room turned to you, confusion and shock flashing across their faces.

“You know?” Feyre asked, her voice almost a whisper.

You nodded slowly. “I saw it too. I’m not sure how, but when I guided Elain out of her vision, pieces of it came to me. I saw what she saw.”

Azriel’s voice cut through the stunned silence, sharp and filled with tension. “Saw what? What exactly did you see?”

You turned to face him, your gaze unwavering, though the effort to maintain your composure was immense. “I saw the moment I die, Azriel.”

The breath seemed to leave the room all at once. Even Amren, ever-unflappable, looked taken aback. Cassian, wide-eyed, shifted uneasily in his seat. Feyre and Nesta exchanged another tense glance, while Rhysand’s expression hardened, his jaw tightening.

“What do you mean, you saw yourself die?” Azriel pressed, his voice low and strained, his shadows coiling around him like a living entity. His hand hovered near your arm again, as though he wanted to hold on to you, to ground himself in your presence.

You gave a bitter smile, the weight of the truth pressing down on you. “Exactly what it sounds like. She saw me die, and so did I. What do you want me to say? It’s not a matter of if, but when.”

Azriel’s jaw tightened, and the raw emotion in his eyes was almost unbearable to look at. “You can’t just… accept that,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, yet filled with an edge of desperation. “There has to be something we can do. We can stop it—”

“You think I haven’t thought of that?” you interrupted, your tone sharp but not unkind. “I’ve lived long enough to know that sometimes, no matter what you do, fate has its way.”

Rhysand’s voice broke through, calm but commanding. “What exactly did you see, Y/N?”

You hesitated, the image flashing in your mind. The darkness, the war, and that final moment when everything stopped, and you fell. “I saw the world in chaos—death everywhere. And then I saw myself... my blood, my heart—gone. I felt it as much as I saw it.”

Azriel took a step closer to you, his shadows curling protectively around him. His golden eyes were locked onto yours, filled with something you couldn’t quite place. “I don’t accept that,” he said firmly. “We’ll find a way to stop it. Whatever it takes.”

For a moment, the room was quiet, everyone digesting the gravity of the revelation. Then Amren, leaning back in her chair, spoke up, her voice cool but filled with an edge of challenge. “If fate has marked you, Y/N, then the question is not if we can stop it, but what it will cost.”

Her words hung heavily in the air, a reminder of the uncertain path ahead. You swallowed hard, the weight of the vision and its implications pressing down on you. But even as the room seemed to drown in its tension, you squared your shoulders, lifting your chin.

“Whatever happens,” you said softly, “it doesn’t change what I need to do now. We have time—maybe not much, but enough to prepare.”

As the heavy silence settled in the room, you could feel the weight of everyone’s gaze on you. Rhysand’s sharp violet eyes held yours for a long moment before he finally spoke, his voice steady but laced with an undertone of unease. “Y/N,” he began, “would you allow me to see it? The vision?”

You hesitated, the thought of someone else witnessing what you had seen unsettling, but you nodded nonetheless. “Go ahead,” you said softly, standing your ground. Rhysand approached you carefully, his movements deliberate, as though he didn’t want to startle you.

His mental touch was gentle, like a soft whisper brushing against your thoughts. You let him in, showing him the fractured, haunting glimpses of the vision—darkness, war, your bloodied form crumbling to the ground.

When he pulled back, his expression was tight, his jaw clenched. A faint twitch betrayed his composed demeanor.

“Don’t pity me, Rhysand,” you said, your tone firm, though there was a flicker of something softer beneath it. “I died once. I’ve been blessed by the Mother, and I’ve accepted that one day, that favor will need to be returned.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and final. Azriel’s golden eyes locked onto you, his shadows coiling tightly around him. His expression was unreadable, but the look in his eyes was anything but. It was a mix of disbelief, worry, and something else you couldn’t quite place—something that made your chest tighten.

The tension in the room shifted, the atmosphere changing as people slowly began to disperse, their expressions ranging from solemn to thoughtful. Conversations were hushed, and one by one, the Inner Circle left to retreat to their rooms or find solace in other parts of the house.

You needed air. The weight of the vision, the discussions, and the gazes filled with unspoken questions were too much. Slipping out quietly, you made your way to the garden of the townhouse. The cool night air brushed against your skin, soothing in its simplicity. The stars above were bright, scattered across the inky sky like a promise of something eternal.

You found a bench near the center of the garden and sank onto it, tilting your head back to take in the view. The stars twinkled softly, distant and untouchable, yet strangely comforting. For a moment, you let yourself breathe, the crisp air filling your lungs as you tried to untangle the storm of emotions swirling inside you.

The quiet of the garden wrapped around you like a comforting blanket. After some time, you felt a presence approach—a familiar one—and moments later, a warmer jacket was draped over your shoulders. You turned your head slightly to see Azriel sitting down beside you, his movements careful and deliberate. He didn’t speak, didn’t try to fill the silence, and instead, he leaned back to look up at the sky, mirroring your own posture.

For a while, the two of you simply sat there, the stars above a quiet audience to the unspoken words lingering between you. Eventually, unable to bear the weight of the silence any longer, you turned to him and asked, “Aren’t you going to ask me what I’m doing here?”

Still gazing upward, Azriel’s voice was low, steady. “Once, someone told me that sometimes no words need to be spoken. But if you want to talk…” Finally, he turned his head to look at you, his golden eyes catching the faint moonlight. “I’m here.”

A small laugh escaped you, soft but genuine. “Are you actually quoting me?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

Azriel’s lips twitched into the barest hint of a smile. “Maybe.”

Your laughter faded into the cool night air, replaced by a quieter moment as the gravity of everything settled back in. After a moment, Azriel’s voice broke through the stillness, softer this time. “How?”

You turned to him, your brow furrowing slightly. “How what?”

“How can you accept what you saw so easily?” he asked, his gaze dropping to the ground as though the question was too heavy to lift.

You hesitated, unsure how to answer, then sighed. “I don’t know, Azriel. I really don’t.”

He exhaled softly, the sound tinged with frustration, and his voice was almost a whisper when he spoke again. “Don’t behave like your death won’t affect other people.”

Your breath caught at his words, and when you turned to look at him, his hand slowly reached out, his fingers brushing against yours before curling gently around your hand. His touch was warm, grounding.

“Like it won’t affect me,” he added, his voice barely audible now, but the weight of his words settled heavily between you.

Your eyes widened slightly, your heart stumbling over itself as you processed the raw honesty in his voice. You turned your gaze back to the sky, swallowing hard against the lump in your throat. After a long pause, you found the courage to ask, “When did you figure it out?”

Azriel’s grip on your hand tightened just slightly, as though he was anchoring himself to you. “Figure what out?” he asked, his tone cautious, even though you both knew exactly what you meant.

The bond hummed faintly between you, a quiet rhythm you’d learned to live with but had never fully embraced. You turned back to him, meeting his gaze directly, and whispered, “That I’m your mate.”

The moment stretched between you, heavy with emotions you had never allowed yourself to fully feel. Azriel's words hung in the air like an unanswered prayer, and when he finally spoke again, his voice was soft but resolute.

"The moment we nearly died on our way back from Dawn," he said, his gaze unwavering.

“Oh,” was all you could manage, your voice barely above a whisper. After a pause, he tilted his head slightly and asked, “And you? When did you know?”

Your throat tightened as you glanced away, searching for the courage to speak the truth. “When I saved your life at the House of Wind,” you admitted softly.

He was quiet for a moment, his golden eyes fixed on you. “Oh,” was his only response.

And then the question you had been dreading fell from his lips. “Why? Why haven’t you said anything?”

You turned sharply, your face a mask of incredulity. “Are you seriously asking me this now, Azriel? Look at you—with Elain.” Your voice broke slightly, but you steadied yourself. “I barely knew you at the time. What would you have wanted from me then? You loved her—or at least you thought you did. What would you have done if you were in my place?”

“I don’t love her,” he said firmly, cutting through your spiraling thoughts.

You shot him a sidelong glance, disbelief clouding your features. “Azriel, this—this is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you. I don’t want this to be forced.” You took a shaky breath, your voice trembling. “You deserve someone better, much better than me. And definitely not someone who’s... who’s destined to die soon.”

He tried to interrupt, his expression pained, but you raised a hand to stop him. “No, please. You’re one of the kindest, most selfless people I’ve ever met. You’ve dedicated your life to protecting others, to doing what’s right. And I—I just can’t, Azriel. I can’t give you what you deserve.”

You turned fully to him now, your eyes shimmering with unshed tears. The heaviness in your chest felt unbearable, as if the weight of your fears and regrets were finally demanding release. “I work with death every day,” you began, your voice trembling but growing stronger with each word. “Every single day, I watch it take and take and take. I’ve seen families shattered into pieces—mothers begging me to save their children, lovers screaming for someone to bring their person back.”

Azriel’s gaze softened as he took in the storm of emotions pouring from you, his golden eyes following every movement as you began to pace. “I’ve had fathers collapse in my arms because I couldn’t save their wives. Sisters sobbing, clutching me like I was the only thing keeping them tethered to this world. And I...” You paused, pressing a trembling hand to your chest, the lump in your throat growing unbearable. “I can’t—I won’t—be the reason someone else ends up in that position because of me.”

The words tumbled from you, raw and unfiltered, as though they’d been waiting for this moment to escape. “Do you know what that’s like? To carry that? Every mistake, every failure—it haunts you. It lives inside you. And knowing that one day, I’ll be the one taken... that I could leave someone behind, someone I care about... I can’t do that to anyone, Azriel. I just can’t.”

Your steps faltered as the rawness of your confession left you breathless, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself as if you could hold yourself together through sheer will. Azriel remained silent, his eyes following you with an intensity that made your skin prickle. His shadows stirred softly at his feet, as though they wanted to reach out to you but were unsure how.

“Why do you think I’ve always left?” you demanded, turning toward him suddenly, your voice rising. “Why do you think I’ve never stayed anywhere for long? Why do you think I’ve never let anyone get close, too close to me? Why do you think I’ve never been able to have something... someone real?”

Your voice cracked on the last word, and you could feel yourself unraveling. “I’m terrified, Azriel. I’m terrified of death—of what it takes, of what it leaves behind. It’s not just the pain or the loss... it’s the emptiness it leaves in its wake. And I can’t bear the thought of someone else feeling that emptiness because of me.”

Snow began to fall softly around you, the first flakes catching in your hair and melting against your flushed cheeks. You barely noticed, your heart hammering in your chest as the emotions you’d kept buried for so long spilled out in a torrent. The cold air stung your lungs, but you welcomed it, letting it ground you.

Your knees buckled, and you sank to the ground as though the weight of your confession had finally crushed you. The snow gathered in the folds of your clothes, a stark contrast to the heat burning behind your eyes. “And I’m just so, so sorry that I’m your mate,” you choked out, your voice cracking as tears spilled freely down your face.

Azriel knelt beside you without hesitation, his movements slow and deliberate as though he were approaching something fragile. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you into the warmth and steadiness of his chest as your sobs wracked your body. You clung to him, the snowfall around you a quiet witness to the storm raging inside you.

“I’m so sorry, Azriel,” you whispered again, your voice muffled against his shoulder. “I’m sorry I’m your mate. I’m sorry I can’t be what you deserve. I’m sorry for... for all of it.”

His arms tightened around you, his shadows curling protectively, almost soothingly. His voice was low and soft when he finally spoke, the words barely audible over the sound of your own broken breathing. “Don’t you dare apologize for being you,” he murmured, his tone steady, even as his own emotions threatened to break through.

The snow continued to fall, blanketing the garden in a quiet stillness that seemed to echo the rawness of the moment. Azriel’s warmth surrounded you, his presence grounding you even as the storm inside you raged on.

Azriel froze for a moment, his golden eyes locking onto yours, filled with something you couldn’t quite name—something that made your chest tighten. Slowly, almost reverently, his hands rose to gently cup your face, his calloused thumbs brushing away the tears streaking your cheeks. The tenderness in his touch made your breath catch, your heart thundering in your chest.

He tilted your head up, his shadows curling softly around your shoulders, as though they were trying to reassure you in their own way. “Look at me,” he murmured, his voice steady but laced with raw emotion. The words were both a command and a plea, grounding you in the storm of your thoughts. “Just... look at me.”

For a heartbeat, everything else fell away—the snow, the cold, the pain. It was just him, his golden eyes burning with an intensity that made your knees tremble even though you were already on the ground.

And then, without warning, his lips were on yours.

It wasn’t just a kiss; it was a lifeline. Gentle at first, as if he were afraid you’d shatter under his touch, but then deeper, insistent, grounding. A warmth spread through you, chasing away the chill of the snow, as if his very being was pulling you back from the edge. Your eyes widened in shock, your mind struggling to process what was happening. But then, as the bond between you pulsed like a drumbeat in your veins, you melted into him, your hands clutching at the fabric of his tunic as if letting go would undo you completely.

The bond roared to life, the connection between you blazing with an intensity that stole your breath. You felt it in every fiber of your being—a tether that had always been there, humming quietly in the background, now surging forward with undeniable force. His shadows wrapped around you, cocooning you in their embrace, a silent promise of safety and devotion.

The kiss broke, leaving both of you gasping for air, your foreheads pressed together. His hands didn’t leave your face, his thumbs still brushing against your skin, as though anchoring you to the moment. The bond pulsed between you, vibrant and alive, and you swore you could feel his heartbeat echoing in time with yours.

Azriel’s voice, when he finally spoke, was a low murmur, trembling with a quiet intensity that sent shivers down your spine. “Are you done?” he asked, his lips quirking into a faint, almost teasing smile. “Because it’s my turn to talk now.”

His words hung in the air between you, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt something other than fear—hope.

Azriel’s gaze pierced through you, deep and unwavering, as though he was stripping away every wall you had ever built, leaving you bare before him. The snow continued to fall around you, cold and relentless, yet you barely noticed it. The world seemed to shrink to just the two of you, kneeling in the snow, your breaths mingling in the frosty air.

“Y/N,” Azriel began, his voice low but filled with a vulnerability you’d never heard from him before. “You are the person who’s made me see the world differently.” He paused, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. “The first moment I laid eyes on you, I felt... something. It was like I was drawn to you, like there was this force pulling me toward you, even though I didn’t understand it.”

His words were heavy, laden with emotion. You couldn’t look away, caught in the raw honesty of his confession.

“It took me months to figure out why,” he continued, his shadows curling faintly around him as though reflecting his inner turmoil. “Why I felt like I could tell you things I’ve never even told my brothers. Why, when I was with you, I didn’t feel like I had to hide the parts of me I’ve spent centuries locking away. It was as if you could see me—truly see me—and not turn away.”

Your heart ached at his words, your chest tightening with the weight of his emotions.

“I didn’t understand it at first,” he said, his voice softening. “Why I ended up at the clinic that night of the solstice. Why I fell asleep so easily in your space, a place that felt more like home than anywhere else has in years. Why, in Dawn, every moment I spent away from you felt wrong, like I was missing something vital. And then...” He hesitated, his jaw tightening. “When I saw you with Thesan, I felt this rage, this jealousy that I couldn’t explain. And that night, when the storm came, I accepted that I would die—because being with you in that moment, even if it was the end, felt right.”

His voice cracked, and you felt your breath hitch as his words pressed against the tender parts of your heart.

“And then you saved us,” Azriel whispered, his shadows curling around you both now, a silent embrace. “And the bond snapped into place, and everything suddenly made sense. And gods, I’ve hated myself every day since for talking to you about Elain—for putting you through that pain without even knowing it.”

You couldn’t stop the tears that slipped down your cheeks, and you reached up, placing your hand on his face. His golden eyes closed briefly at your touch, leaning into your palm as though it grounded him.

“And tonight,” he went on, his voice trembling with emotion, “when I saw you with Lucien, I felt it again. That jealousy. The way you smiled, the way you laughed with him... I wanted to be in his place so badly it hurt.”

His voice dropped to a whisper, thick with self-loathing. “And I know I don’t deserve you. Gods, I’ve been the worst to you. But, Y/N, you are everything I didn’t know I needed. You are smart, strong, considerate. You light up the room just by being in it. You make everyone around you better, just by existing. It is so, so easy to fall in love with you.”

Your breath caught in your throat, his words wrapping around you like a balm to your battered soul.

“And even if it’s for a year, or a month, or a single day,” Azriel said, his voice breaking, “I want to spend it with you. I want to be close to you, to be by your side, for however long we have.”

He reached out then, his hands trembling as they cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away your tears. His gaze burned into yours, his bond thrumming with a quiet, steady pulse that matched your own. “Please, Y/N. Let me be with you.”

You let out a small, shaky laugh, the sound soft and almost disbelieving as it fell between your lips. Your head dropped forward, resting gently against Azriel’s chest, his shirt dampening slightly with your tears. The both of you had shifted completely onto the ground, no longer kneeling but sitting in the snow. You were nearly in his lap, his arms instinctively wrapping around you, pulling you closer as though he feared you might disappear.

“I-I just don’t want you to feel obligated because of what happened tonight,” you murmured against his chest, your voice trembling. “I don’t want this to be out of pity.”

Azriel stilled for a moment, and then his hands cupped your face with such gentleness it made your breath hitch. He tilted your head upward, his golden eyes meeting yours, before leaning down and kissing you again—deeper this time, the connection searing into your very soul. It wasn’t hurried or desperate but deliberate, a kiss that held every unspoken word, every ounce of feeling he hadn’t yet been able to say.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested lightly against yours, and his hand moved to your shoulder, grounding himself in your presence as his scent wrapped around you. His shadows curled around the both of you like a protective cocoon, their touch faint and reassuring.

“Never, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice raw and barely above a whisper. “Never out of pity. I’ve long made up my mind about how I feel about you. Even if everything feels like a mess—if everything is wrong—I will never fall in love with you out of pity.”

The last words were so quiet, they were almost inaudible, but you heard them. And they wrapped around your heart, filling the cracks you hadn’t even realized were there.

Your hands moved on instinct, slipping inside his jacket as you hugged him closer, seeking his warmth and steadiness. Your palm pressed gently against his back, and your fingers began tracing soft circles at the base of his wings. Whether it was to reassure yourself that this moment was real or to offer him comfort, you didn’t know. Maybe it was both.

Azriel let out a quiet sigh, his chin resting lightly against your head as he held you. The snow continued to fall around you, the icy flakes melting against the shared heat between you. Neither of you spoke for a long time, the silence filled with the steady rhythm of your breathing, the faint pulse of the bond humming quietly between you.

For the first time in a long time, you felt something you hadn’t allowed yourself to feel in years: safe. And in Azriel’s arms, with his shadows weaving around you, it felt like you’d finally found the place where you belonged.

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have-you-seen-my-sanity · 2 days ago

Note

Can I request a non con fic with Marc? We had one with Steven, can he get one too please?

Yes, yes you absolutely can! >:)

Made for him

Yandere!Marc Spector x fem!reader

Cw/triggers: Darkfic, tied up reader, dead dove do not eat, implied kidnapping, non-con/dub-con, p in v sex, fingering, obsessive and possessive behavior, yandere themes, Marc is scary.

Marc couldn't wait any longer, he had to have you. Breaking into your house was a piece of cake for him, and even easier was getting you immobile in your own bed. Fuck, even with handcuffs and tape on your mouth you're so beautiful to him. You couldn't look prettier.

He dragged his fingertips sensually up your exposed thigh, hooking them under the waistband of your panties as he kneeled down next to you.

"You had no idea, hm? No fucking idea what you did to me, honey?" Marc murmured close to your face, his fingers pushing your panties to the side. "Well, let me show you exactly what." he promised darkly.

In response you tried pushing your legs close, knowing what he's going to do to you and squirmed.

Marc sucked in a breath. "Don't do that, sweetheart..." he threatened lowly. Fear made you immediately open your legs back up.

His hand found your pussy, making you tense up as his fingers were fidgeding around with your folds until they've gotten wet.

Marc chuckled lowly. "Aw, are you scared?" he grinned down at you, one of his fingers found its way inside you without a clear warning, making you gasp into the tape at the sudden intrusion.

You tried closing your legs reflexively again, but he tsked in response.

"Nuh-uh, none of that again. Keep 'em open."

The finger inside you brushed against your spot, having you moan softly and buck your hips slightly at the feeling.

Marc smirked when he felt your cunt getting wetter and wetter, adding a second finger to stretch you open, pumping them steadily.

He listened to your soft moans and wet noises, his fingers curling inside you, stroking the spot until your eyes rolled back.

"Fuck, listen to your cute noises. I bet you'd fucking lose it with my cock inside you." He murmured, feeling your hips arching up for more despite your inner struggling he knew you have.

"But unfortunately I can't remove that tape if you're going to scream your lungs out."

Marc removed his fingers, leaving you there whimpering at the loss as he got up, walking around to step at the edge of your bed where your feet are.

"Mmh, you look like a fine piece, ready for me and all mine." You watched him palming himself and slowly undo his pants, shaking your head frantically.

When Marc noticed your unwillingness, he reached for your ankles, pulling you towards him and freeing his aching cock.

"Oh yes you're getting it now. I've waited long enough to get you." He said, lining his dick up with your pussy, running the tip along your wetness and gently nudging your cunt.

"Don't worry sweetheart, it will feel good." Marc promised and with that he surged forward, stretching you open on his cock, not stopping until he ground his hips against you.

He supported himself with both hands on either side of you, pulling out until just the tip remained only to thrust back in again.

"Shit, I knew you'd be perfect." He groaned, maintaining his deep pace.

Your fogged up brain couldn't help but make you arch up into him, the friction he gave you was simply way too good.

Marc chuckled at your obvious response. "Feels good, honey? Want me to keep pounding this pussy until your legs are jelly? Hmm?"

You couldn't suppress the near needy moan, you've gotten so cockdrunk that thinking gotten impossible.

Marc groaned at feeling you slowly submitting to him. "Yeah that's it, I won't stop until I've filled this pussy and it's dripping."

He leaned down, giving your jawline a quick kiss before moving to kiss and suck at the sensitive skin of your neck.

You had no doubt that those spots will turn dark purple giving how hard he sucked. Marc sped up and suddenly bit down, catching you by surprise with a strangled moan, feeling your belly fire up with your impending orgasm.

"You're so perfect, I'll never let you go." He murmured against your skin. He pulled back when he felt you tightening around him. "You're close? Good, wanna feel you cum on my cock, baby."

One of his hands trailed down between your bodies, slowly rubbing your clit, earning needy moans and heavy breathing from you as your orgasm approached.

"Come on, squeeze my dick with your perfect pussy, let me feel it before I fill you up.."

He put pressure on your clit, it made you see starts as you bucked up into him, with your orgasm ripping out of you, your pussy squeezing Marc's cock like a vice.

Marc's hips jerked, his breath coming out in gasps and with one last thrust, he groaned, releasing his hot cum into you before collapsing down on you with his face in your neck.

"Fuck... now you belong to me..." He breathed against your skin, slowly pulling his spent cock out of you but making no move to pull himself up.

After a while, Marc catched his breath and pulled back, supporting himself on one hand while the other sensually dragged two fingers along the tape covering your mouth.

"Wanna know what happens now?" He said lowly, almost ominously.

You swallowed hard, your eyes widened in fear as your mind slowly came back to reality and you shook your head while looking up at him with fear in your eyes.

Marc couldn't resist grinning at your fearful state, loving it how he had you at his mercy.

"I'll get you to my place, keep you there all for myself..."

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

Tags: @nekoyin @steven-grants-world @iolaussharpe-24 @buckyssugarchick @krakenkitty

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @stevendameron @xxjust-a-kidxx @klillaah @ingoldthewizard

@alexxavicry @mochiitoby @Xjust-a-kidx @silvernight-m

Wanna get tagged?

#moon knight #marc spector #yandere!marc spector #marc spector x reader #marc spector smut #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters

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sillylilsquid · 2 days ago

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Real life Romance book pt. 4/?

✨alternate universe Hyun Ju x reader

✨summary: in which you meet Hyun Ju at your work, and quickly become friends. you've never dated a woman, but something about Hyun Ju was different. She made you feel a fire in your chest, and though you didn't understand it you were ready to try. ✨trigger warnings: afab reader, drinking, sexual themes. minors dni, 18+ ✨2.8k words

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..✭・.・

The next few weeks spent with Hyun Ju were incredible. You both attended book club together every week, which made your friends squeal out of excitement. On days where neither of you had to work you would always be hanging out; and on the days one or both of you worked you would shower each other with text messages and updates throughout the day. To say you were happy was an understatement. The night that the two of you shared the passionate kiss in your apartment didn’t lead to much, and you were okay with that. You wanted Hyun Ju to feel comfortable and move at her own pace, and you yourself were also still trying to figure out what you were comfortable with.

Once Hyun Ju told you about herself, things between you two seemed to change for the best. She acted a little more outgoing around you, and would never hesitate to show affection to you. Kisses, hugs, hand holding, cuddling…you loved it all. When you two were out in public, however, she would act a little more standoffish, though still being the caring girlfriend you knew her to be. You liked to think it was because she was scared of either of you receiving any stares or hateful comments, but there was a small part of you that worried it was because she was embarrassed of you. You knew it was an irrational thought, but your already low self confidence made it impossible to think otherwise.

Hyun Ju would ask you to go shopping with her for clothes, or for makeup, or shoes. You always agreed. Seeing her face light up as she tried on more feminine clothes made you feel a sense of pride. There were moments she would hesitate to come out of the dressing room, or shift uncomfortably in front of you–and you always knew what to say to make things better. You’d compliment how the trousers would hug the curves of her legs perfectly, or how the color of a top made her eyes pop. It made her blush each time. You’d help her pick out makeup and always offered to show her how to use it, even doing her makeup for her a lot of times. She would thank you again and again.

It was the weekend and you both were off from work. Friday evening you and your friends had plans to go to a club for a night of fun. After making sure it was okay with your friends you invited Hyun Ju. She was hesitant about attending but she decided to go just for you. It was around 8pm when you heard her knock at the front door. You had given her a key a week ago, and she had yet to use it–always saying it was rude to barge in. It made you laugh, finding it sweet how respectful she was. You called out, “come in!” from your bedroom as you pulled on a pair of chunky heeled boots you forgot you even had. The front door opened then closed and you heard the soft footsteps heading towards your room. “You really should answer the door. What if I was a serial killer, and you just gave me an open invitation?” she joked. Hyun Ju stood in the doorway, admiring you as you fixed your hair in the mirror. You had decided to wear a dress, which you rarely did. Swallowing, you turned towards your girlfriend. “I’m in heels and still shorter than you!” you exclaimed, walking over to give her a hug. Her hands lingered for a moment on your waist before she pulled away. She took your hand, spinning you around to fully look you over. “You look hot,” Hyun Ju stated, a smirk showing on her face. It made you blush. Of course she would give you compliments all the time, but she had never said you were hot before. The word sent shivers down your spine.

Your music played softly in the background breaking any uncomfortable silence between you two. You took a small step back so you could admire her in hopes to make her feel as beautiful as she always made you feel. Her outfits were similar everyday, not straying away from what made her feel most comfortable and tonight was no different. She wore a pair of dark plaid trousers, well tailored to her legs and a cream colored turtleneck. It was tight enough to show off the curve of her breasts but still loose enough not to cling to her. Her hair was down and you admired how she’s been letting it grow out longer. She wore a thin gold necklace with a heart charm, the one you bought her shortly after you started dating, and a few rings on her fingers. You noticed her nails were painted black and she wore a faint amount of makeup. The intoxicating smell of her vanilla perfume wafted into your nose. To you, she was a goddess.

“Are you trying to get other girlfriends tonight?” you teased her, your hand brushing over her silky, dark hair. “I’m not going to be able to keep them away from you.” Hyun Ju began to laugh, and any nerves she had left her body. She loved being able to joke with you, and vice versa. Her larger hands rested on your hips. “I wanted to look nice for you.” she spoke, bending down to brush her lips across yours. You leaned in closer to press a kiss to them. “You look so hot, Hyun Ju.” you then replied, giggling as you used the same compliment she had given you. It made her feel just as flustered as you had. Soon you gathered your things and turned out the lights, following your girlfriend to her car.

The ride to the club was mostly silent, with Hyun Ju’s hand resting on your exposed thigh for the duration of the ride. You could sense she was nervous just by how she was more quiet than she would usually be when you two were alone. You tried to encourage her, letting her know that everything would be okay. Before the two of you walked inside you stopped her, pulling her back from the front door of the club. “If you get uncomfortable, we can leave. Just let me know. I want you to have fun too.” her face lit up at your words. “I’ll have fun–we’ll have fun together.” she assured you, reaching back out for the door and pulling it open for you. The two of you stepped inside and were immediately hit by the loud music and smell of sweat mixed with alcohol in the air. It had been a while since you attended any parties or even went to a bar, but your friends were adamant that you came with them.

Sensing your unease Hyun Ju took the lead, lacing your fingers together and pulling you towards the bar. She ordered you a drink, handing it to you which you gladly took. The burn from the alcohol made you feel warm inside and started to ease your nerves. “You don’t want anything?” you called out over the loud music, having to lean closer to her so she could hear you. She shook her head, laughing as she explained someone had to drive you home. There she went again being the protective, kind woman you were growing to love. It wasn’t your plan to get wasted tonight, but your friends were bad influences and you were a lightweight. Your friends soon met up with you and pulled you towards the crowd of people dancing. You made sure to keep a hold of Hyun Ju’s arm, not wanting to lose her in the sea of people. She stood behind you with her hands resting protectively on your waist as you danced and sang with your friends. She was always kind enough to brave the crowd to get you another drink whenever you asked. Every time you looked back at her to check if she was okay she was always smiling down at you, simply enjoying seeing you so happy with your friends.

As the evening passed on you felt yourself becoming more and more tipsy, your head hazy and your words slurring occasionally. Hyun Ju found it adorable how your skin became flushed the more alcohol you consumed. The time approached 11pm and you and your friends had grown tired deciding it was best to head out. Hyun Ju made sure they all had a safe way home before pulling you towards her car. Your feet fumbled underneath you but she kept a strong arm on you. “You’re like really hot, ya know?” you said in between hiccups. She laughed and buckled you safely in your seat, as you let out a whine when she closed the door. The drive back to your apartment consisted of you giggling and spitting compliments to Hyun Ju. She always thanked you, even though she knew you wouldn’t remember any of it in the morning.

The climb up the stairs was tricky with how you clung to her, complaining how you didn’t want to trip. She shook her head, leaning down and picking you up. You quickly wrapped your legs around her waist, the movement making you dizzy. “Wow,” you mumbled, staring at her with wide eyes. “Enjoying the view?” she teased to which you quickly nodded in agreement. Arriving at your door, she held you up with one arm and your bag with the other and managed to fish her key out of her pocket. She made her way through your apartment in the dark, which surprised you because you knew there were a lot of clothes and shoes scattered across the floor. Once she reached your bedroom, she turned on the lamp that sat on the bedside table. It made you clench your eyes closed, burying your face in her shoulder. “You gotta let go,” she laughed, trying to peel you from her frame. You shook your head. “Sweet girl, let me help.” you grumbled as she sat you down on your bed.

You seemed to melt into it like a cloud. Has this bed always been this comfortable? You thought to yourself. Hyun Ju told you to stay, and you complied, looking up at her like a lost puppy. She rummaged around your room to find you a pair of pajamas. She disappeared into your bathroom briefly before she returned and moved to the bed. She stood before you, tying your hair out of your face and proceeded to take your makeup off. You sat still, complying with anything she wanted to do to you. In that moment your thighs clenched, your heart pounded. Once she finished her task she kneeled in front of you, proceeding to pull off your heels. You hadn’t realized how much your feet ached until now. Your breathing was erratic staring down at her. When her eyes met yours she smiled as if she didn’t know what she was doing had such an effect on you. She had to know what she was doing to you, what she was making you feel. Right? How could she not feel it too?

The air felt thick as you tried to calm yourself down by closing your eyes hoping to steady your breathing, but when you opened them you became a mess. She stood in front of you now, hand held out to you waiting for a response. You hadn’t even realized she was talking to you. “Stand up,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “Let me help you change.” you obeyed, standing up and reaching out to grab onto her when you swayed. Once she was sure you were steady on feet she gripped the bottom of your dress. To her, this was just a simple act of service–to you, this felt like the angels were calling you up to heaven. Hyun Ju pulled the dress over your head, leaving you standing in front of her in your matching bra and panties. She swallowed, her hands fisting the dress momentarily before letting it fall to the floor. Reaching past you she grabbed your pajama shirt. Her shoulder brushing against your bare one. As she began to try and tug the top over your head you tried to make your move, your hands reaching out to her sweater. You brushed the fabric up barely exposing her stomach before she caught your hands. She dropped them at your sides and finished pulling your top over you, making you shove your arms through the holes. When she reached for the matching shorts you tried again, fisting her sweater in your clammy hands. This time you tried to be quicker, pulling it up enough to expose her stomach and the edge of her bra. Hyun Ju laughed, shaking her head. “Sweet girl, you need to rest. You’re drunk.” she explained, her tone was patient. She was always so patient with you. You were lucky, oh so lucky.

Your shoulders shrugged while you allowed her to help you step into your shorts. “Please?” you asked, your tone needy and higher pitched. It had to have been the alcohol, you were never so forward. Always too shy to make a move. She silently shook her head, not budging when it came to the subject. Hyun Ju pushed you back towards the bed until it hit the back of your legs and you fell onto the mattress. As you sat up you reached towards her, tucking your finger into the waistband of her trousers and using it to pull her close. She stood now in between your legs. “Trapped ya’!” you exclaimed, trying to fumble with the button. Maybe if you hadn’t had that last drink your hands wouldn’t be so shaky, you thought. Hyun Ju stood still, letting you fumble with her pants. She knew wouldn’t figure out the button so she waited, patiently with a smile on her face. After a minute of trying you groaned and dropped your hands, staring up at her as if to beg for help. She again shook her head no, helping you move under your blankets. “Insatiable little girl.” she murmured in your ear.

Hyun Ju made sure you were comfortably tucked in and within seconds you felt sleep take over your body. She stood watching your breathing even out and once you let out a soft snore she knew you were out. Looking around the room she saw how messy it was. Her place was always immaculate; she liked to think it was from her time in the military. It taught her strict discipline and she still used it in her everyday life. She stuck to a schedule, similar each day. Wake up, get dressed and go to the gym. Shower once she gets home, eat breakfast, and find something to clean. Repeat. As much as she knew she should leave your place, she couldn’t make herself yet. You had been driving her crazy. Seeing how you looked at her, how you tried multiple times to rid her of her clothes. You made her feel wanted. She hadn’t felt that in a long time. If you weren’t drunk she probably would have let you.

She left your bedroom and closed the door behind her. Turning on the lamp in the living room she began to tidy your apartment. The space was small so it didn't take very long. She folded your laundry, emptied your dishwasher and refilled it with the dirty dishes. She even took the time to arrange your books neatly on your bookshelf, and she hoped you wouldn’t think it was weird of her to clean your place while you slept. Once she felt proud of her work she filled you a glass of water, leaving it on your bedside table. Hyun Ju planted a kiss on your forehead, turned off your lights, and left your apartment locking it up behind her. The drive back to her place only took a few minutes considering there was no traffic. She took a brief shower, her mind still thinking of your lustful actions. Groaning to herself she turned the shower off, changed into comfortable clothes and went to bed. She tossed and turned, trying to make herself comfortable and force herself to sleep. Her mind kept playing back over tonight. She wanted you, bad. Hyun Ju allowed her hand to slip into her sweatpants, thinking of you. The feeling of needing release made her stomach clench. Soon her orgasm took over her, as she thought of you, and once she cleaned herself up she was able to fall asleep much quicker. Her mind still picturing you as she drifted off.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..✭・.・

✨a/n: sorry it took a week to post! working in vet med is crazy. anyways, enjoy. i appreciate all the love this series has gotten so far. xoxo, squid.

#squid game #squid game x y/n #cho hyun ju x reader #hyun ju #hyun ju x reader #alternate universe #cho hyun ju #player 120 #player 120 x reader #hyun ju squid game #cho hyun ju smut #cho hyunju x reader #squid game x reader

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thevanillerose · 3 days ago

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SQUID GAME 2 | YANDERE SCENARIOS

~ WRITING COMMISSIONS ~ ~ PATREON ~ ~ KO-FI ~ ~ NOVELS

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not own anything except my own writing. All properties belong to their respective creators.

CONTENT WARNING: SPOILERS / Yandere / Violence / Death A/N: Probably the most popular request I've ever gotten on this blog, was to write a sequel to Squid Game | Yandere Scenarios. Now it did take me a minute to binge Season 2, with a bestie. Mainly because I felt like it was a little too depressing to watch over the holiday season...(unless it's a 'Silent Night Deadly Night' sorta Christmas??). But now that I have, hoo boy.

Strap in.

THE SALESMAN

Your teeth ached.

You should have predicted the kind of man he was. You should have seen it coming long before this investigation started. His little subway game should have been a dead giveaway.

Was it any surprise you ended up gagged and bound in the most fucked up game of Russian Roulette you could imagine?

Watching him slide that metal barrel up taut between his teeth was enough to make your breath catch. It was strikingly perverse, but then again, so were many of the things he had turned out to be into. And you’d ended up in too deep before you could realize that.

For a moment though, just a moment, you wondered if maybe Heaven was smiling on you. You wondered, ever so hopefully, if that chamber may be full. If a bullet may rip right up through his skull and splatter the cheap smoke-stained motel wallpaper behind him.

It didn’t.

You flinched at the click, and that was all.

Smiling smugly, he withdrew the gun from his mouth and slid it across the table to you again.

“Your turn, [Y/N].”

Right now you didn’t even know what your odds were. You quit calculating your chances once more than two bullets had come into play. Hopelessness swelled in you, and you couldn’t even will yourself to pick up the gun. You sank in the seat, skin pressing to the ropes, lowering your head in pitiful defeat.

“Mm? You don’t want to play anymore?”

When he received no response from you, save for a sad shake of your head, he sighed and picked up the gun, twirling it aptly, gesturing it towards you as if it were only a toy.

“That’s no fun. I thought you were feeling lucky? Isn’t that why you came after me in the first place?”

You looked aside, ashamed. Mission failed, huh?

Now, all you expected was a pull of that trigger on his part. A gamble on your behalf, one he’d probably take a few times if that was what it took to put you down. Yet instead, it was the gun he put down instead.

“Can I be honest with you, [Y/N]?” he asked, steepling his fingers and leaning forward to look you dead in your tearful eyes.

“...I think it’s quite fortunate. That you stopped being so stubborn. That you gave up. Do you know why?”

Somehow, this already confusing man had baffled you further. And only moreso, terrifyingly moreso, when his fingers reached out to drift slowly up your cheek, coming to tug playfully on the gag and make you whimper.

“Because, alive? Like this? I can do whatever I want with you.”

That charming, disarming smile.

“Can’t I?”

THANOS

“I wanna keep playing with you. So push O, okay baby?”

His painted nails dug deep under your collarbones, like the worst kind of shoulder massage, his tall body leaning over yours and pressing against your back. His purple hair brushed your cheek, as did his breath when he spoke.

Thanos had singled you out and ‘chosen’ you from the get-go. He was arrogant enough to think he could get anyone he wanted, and you were a cute-looking challenge for him. Your initial resistance, your discomfort around him, he figured, had been nerves.

“But it’s all good babe, stick with me and I’ll keep you safe. That’s a promise, yeah?”

Surely it didn’t have nearly nothing to do with your actual wellbeing, and more to do with keeping you in his clutches. Surely it wasn’t because he cared less about whether one of those pink limp-dicks blasted your brains out and more about making sure nothing else with a dick got near you.

Surely it wasn’t anything like that.

You were just someone who’d make a good fuck if he could bribe the guards to let you two in the bathroom alone. Just a toy for him to play around with, as he drugged himself all the way to victory.

…He tried to keep that lie strong and real in his head. But with you standing right there, back to his chest, he knew he was trying to convince himself of some serious bullshit.

There was nobody else like you. He didn’t know why, there just wasn’t.

Whatever it was, the drugs, the impending doom, the smell of money, whatever it was…one thing he simply knew for sure, was that he couldn’t let you go.

Which meant, you had to keep playing.

You had to push O.

His grip finally loosened, as your number was called. He pushed you toward the voting stand. He bit down on his chipped, painted thumb, and hoped you’d make the right choice.

Because if you didn’t? Well.

He wasn’t letting you go anyway.

HYUN-JU

It wasn’t fair.

You were so sweet. You were so innocent. You were so understanding.

Someone like you had no place in a game like this. Whatever mess it was you’d gotten yourself in, out in the real world, Hyun-ju couldn’t imagine it was bad enough to be worth staying here. Living this nightmare. She couldn’t fathom why you had voted to keep going.

There was no way you’d last. This sweet little person who called her ‘unnie’, and had told her without a shred of sarcasm that she was beautiful…you surely had too good a soul to survive in this place. You were going to die, and you were going to die horribly, she just knew it, and she couldn’t bear it.

“Unnie…would you come to the bathroom with me?”

During the night, you’d nudged and asked her almost like a child, apologetic for waking her, but clearly trusting nobody else as much. Hyun-ju obliged of course, she felt like she could do anything for you. Escorting you to the bathroom, even if it meant dealing with some difficult guards, was such a small ask.

It was the middle of the night. Everyone was resting, or trying to, at least. Trying to steel themselves with energy, a hopeful advantage in the upcoming games. So here, it was just the two of you. Alone.

“I won’t be long!” you assured her, and hurried into one of the cubicles, while Hyun-ju turned towards the sinks, leaning against one and gripping it. She gazed up at her face, brushing her cheek, remembering how you’d called her ‘beautiful’.

You probably didn’t even realize how much that meant to her. You probably couldn’t fathom the effect you had on her.

Hyun-ju’s teeth grit and she doubled over, arms quivering as her grip on the sink’s edge steadily tightened. More and more, until her knuckles flushed in white.

I could do it.

Her head immediately shot up, staring at herself in sheer horror. How could she even consider that?

But…what was the alternative? Let you suffer in one of these awful ‘games’? See your perfect face riddled with bullets, bloodied, ruined? Let any of those other lecherous creeps in here even have a chance of getting closer to you?

…It would be a mercy, no?

“I’m done!”

Blissfully unaware of what she was truly contemplating, you emerged again and quickly washed your hands, looking up at her with your usual, warm smile.

“Do you need to go too?” you shook your hands off, “I can wait for you, unnie.”

Hyun-ju forced a shaky smile, and shook her head.

“No…I’m fine.”

“Okay!” you gestured for her to go ahead, back to bed, back to the impossible task of trying to get any rest at all in this fucked up place.

Instead, Hyun-ju reached out and gently guided you back against the sink, standing over you. Her hand lingered near the crook of your neck, her thumb gently curling against your skin.

“...Unnie?” you looked up at her, now wide-eyed, and confused.

“...You wouldn’t blame me…right?” she whispered, softly, worriedly, like her words were pure sin. Her other hand cupped your cheek gently, and you instinctively leaned into it, confused, but happy to be held by her like this.

“...I just…I don’t want you to suffer…”

The pad of her thumb pressed harder. Her other fingers slipped lower, resting on the other side of your neck.

All she had to do was bring them together. Bring them together…and squeeze.

Squeeze until you felt nothing else. Until you could go blissfully to a happier place, with no debts, and no killing, and freedom again. Your delicate body would sink against hers, and then, somehow, she’d take herself out of here too. It could be as simple as provoking one of the guards on lavatory duty. It wouldn’t be the prettiest, but at least then, you’d be together.

Out of this place. Away from it all.

Forever-

“U-unnie?”

It was how small and suddenly so frightened your voice sounded, that startled her out of it. Her hands jerked back, hovering stiffly either side of you, as you gazed up at her with so much hurt and concern and…fear.

Fear.

You were afraid of her. The last thing she would have ever wanted.

“...W…we should get back, right? They’re going to get mad if we don’t…”

She could see the way you still tried your best to smile, and be nice, be the way you’d always been with her, but it was too late.

It was ruined. She blew it. You’d never see her the same way again.

Whether you truly knew what her intent had been or not, she could feel the awkward shift between the two of you, as she stiffly followed you out. She felt sick. Was that it? The end of this beautiful thing you had?

…Beautiful.

No. She couldn’t let it be. And as she left that bathroom, and looked at those guards, and looked at every other twisted person in that room, and looked at…you. She knew.

She was filled with a dark, delusional resolve.

Maybe killing you wasn’t the answer.

Maybe killing everyone else was.

THE FRONT MAN

Young-il had seemed like a good man.

A good man, simply in a bad place. Like the rest of you. You liked to think anyway.

It was only during this game, Mingle, that you got to see the full extent of people’s desperation. What they were willing to do, to survive, to line their pockets, or both.

It wasn’t in your nature…

“You understand, right [Y/N]!?”

It wasn’t ever…

“We’re sorry!!”

…in your nature.

You’d made a small group of companions here, but as you were the weakest link, they cut you in an instant as soon as the number needed in one of those rooms required it. Their apologies were like water, they meant nothing, as you were left standing there, lost, alone, scared.

This game…was also the first time he took action.

Messing with Gi-hun was one thing, but the Front Man wanted more than that. As soon as The Salesman had shown you to him; your red, flustered face as you had been slapped around the subway station, captured on handycam video…he had been sure of something.

It wasn’t just Gi-hun. It was you too.

Perhaps, he’d even say, you were the priority.

He liked the idea of keeping you after this was all over. Which meant, for now, assuring you stayed alive through these games.

So when he saw you abandoned, it was his time to act. He practically ripped the breath out of you with how fast he grabbed and tugged you along, throwing you into a lime green room and slamming the door shut behind the two of you.

You hit the wall with a yelp, and slumped against it. But as you shakily looked to your right, and as he turned from the door and cast his sharp eyes around the room, you both saw.

You’d wanted 2. You’d gotten 3.

“H-hey, we can work this out, r–”

The man didn’t get to finish. The tears that had welled in his eyes now poured down his face as he gagged and choked and writhed against the solid arm around his neck. You gasped with horror, staggering back as tightly into the corner as you could, covering your mouth with both hands.

You watched him kill that man. Clenched jaw, staring ahead coldly, even as a living being drifted into death in his very own arms.

And only once he was sure you were in the clear…did that kindness return. That goodness, you had been so sure about.

Young-il stood, and approached you, arm outstretched so he could brush your arm gently with his palm.

“You’re alright?”

You didn’t know how to respond. Pallid and wide-eyed, feeling like you had a cord around your throat, you looked into those worried eyes and only saw softness. But you couldn’t shake seeing that hard look from earlier. Witnessing it firsthand.

His cold will. How easily he had killed.

Swallowing thickly, you nodded, but quickly moved away, muttering something about how the game must be over now. As you stepped out, he remained for a moment, glancing up at the cameras before smirking, and curling the hand that had touched you close to the mint green jacket on his chest.

Did that shock you? Really?

Then perhaps it was better if you braced yourself.

Because if it meant keeping you as his own sort of prize……he was willing to do a lot worse than that.

Like my writing? I can write for you! Check out my WRITING COMMISSIONS!

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eempyreall · 2 days ago

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♪ 𝑅𝑈𝑁𝐴𝑊𝐴𝑌 𝑏𝑦 𝑅𝐸𝐼 𝐴𝑀𝐼 ♪

༺ In The Walls ༻

Oneshot ~ Male Intruders x Female Reader

Summary ~ Unknown to you, two men have been living in your house.

Featuring ~ Original Characters: Charlie & Kameron

Extra Notes ~ Just a quick lil something I had an idea for.

This story should only be posted under eempyreall on my tumblr and ao3. Report if you see it posted under anyone else but me.

Warning ~

You and the characters are 21+. Although I picture the reader as a black cis-gendered female, physical appearance will not be described at all.

Content within this story may not be realistic or factual.

I do not condone any of the behavior displayed within the story.

There may be dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit content, sexual content, non consensual and/or dubious consensual content, etc.

That being said, this story is for 18+ only

You know for a fact that you’re not alone.

You haven’t been for quite a while.

At first, you told yourself it was just paranoia. The faint creaks at night were only just the house settling. The items are only out of place because you forgot to put them back. It doesn’t matter that you hadn’t touched them in the first place. Your blankets are only pulled off of your body because you must be a rough sleeper.

You were able to ignore it and push down your worries for a couple of weeks until now.

“You forgot to lock the door, again. Didn’t you?”

You could’ve sworn the voice was right behind you, coming from the hall as you sat on the sofa of your living room scrolling through your phone. Despite the reluctance, you check the bedroom and your bathroom as you walk down the hall. You found nobody.

Another week passed as you started to question your sanity.

“I’ve watched you cry yourself to sleep every night,” the voice murmured, breath hot against your ear. “Those tears should only be for when I get my hands on you.”

You shot up, sweat heavy as the fabric of your pajamas stuck to your skin. Your breathing is heavy as you look around the dimly lit bedroom. Your hand is on your chest as you observe the empty space.

A couple of weeks passed and things started to get weirder. Anyone that you’ve been in recent contact with has completely disappeared. Your message inbox is as empty as a ghost town. You haven’t heard from your two friends or even any of the men you had started talking to. The barista who left a note on your drink, offering his phone number. The neighbor who frequently checks on you. All gone.

“We took care of them for you. They weren’t good enough.”

The note you found on your kitchen counter when you came home from work sent chills straight down your spine. You didn’t know whether something bad had actually happened to those people or not.

You had enough.

You finally installed cameras around your house.

You watch the footage from your phone screen as you sit in a cubby in the public library. The clock reads seven o’clock in the evening and you were too scared to go home and watch the last few hours that you had been at work.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you used a thumb to fast forward, watching all of the cameras placed in the bedroom, bathroom, living room, and kitchen. You chew on your thumb’s nail and a slight movement caught your attention.

Your breath hitched as the screen flicked to your bedroom.

Two men lounged on the bed as if it was their own. They’re stretched out lazily against your sheets, their heavy-lidded eyes making contact with yours through the camera.

The man on the left—his short brown curls are tousled, as if he just rolled out of bed. He’s dressed in baggy black pants and a dark metal band t-shirt, piercings covering his ears as a spiked collar is secure around his neck. He smirked at the camera while propped on his elbows.

The man on the right has mid-length dyed white hair that frames his face. His outfit mirrored the first but in pastel shades, sleeves covering his arms. His fingers are covered in rings, his fingers in fists as he stretched out lazily like a cat on its back.

Your heart pounded as you watched the brown-haired man get up, his movements casual as he walked to your dresser. His fingers traced the lining of the wood before he yanked it open, his hand rummaging through before he grabbed a pair of your lace panties.

Your breathing becomes harder as your chest feels constricted.

The microphone from the camera picked up his hum as he turned to you, his smirk widening as he brought the fabric to his lips. His canines sink into the soft material, gaze staying locked on you as he stretches the lace.

Heat flushed your body as you felt the embarrassment crawl up your stomach.

The other man got up from the bed as well before walking closer to the camera. Your breath hitched as he pulled out a knife. He held it up so you could see the shiny object. Your eyes widened at the stained blood covering the blade.

His lips parted as his tongue slithered against the blade as he kept his lazy gaze onto you. His tongue flicked before he used his middle finger to glide against the metal and circled his lips around the finger, sucking it deep before slowly pulling it out.

Both men release howls of laughter before you finally shut the phone off.

Your hands are shaky as you take a moment to process what you just saw.

“Please, I don’t know these people. I—I think they’ve been in my house for a while now,” you desperately say to the sheriff as you stand in his office.

“So yer tellin’ me,” he began with an eyebrow raised. “That two men have been living in your house this whole time and you only just noticed?”

“I know how it sounds, but I swear! I have proof,” your voice says shakily. The device almost slips out of your hands as you search for the footage.

Your eyes widened as you violently swipe through the app’s saved downloads. You even checked your gallery. It’s nowhere to be found.

Time ticks along before the sheriff sighs, leaning back in his chair as he gives you a bored gaze.

“Ma’am, I think you need some rest.”

It was now midnight.

You didn’t want to go home, but there was nowhere else for you to go. You had no choice but to face these unpredictable weirdos and potentially risk your life.

When you got home, your hand shook with the pepper spray you had gotten from a shop earlier in the day. You shut the door and locked it behind you as you slowly checked each room. The kitchen, living room, bathroom, and your bedroom. You found nobody. You didn’t hear anything either.

Your nerves are shot as you peeled the covers back, climbing into your bed after half-finishing your night routine and changing into your pajamas.

You couldn’t sleep, obviously wide-awake with the pepper spray still in hand. You chug the glass of water you had made earlier, before you lied down. You hadn’t expected to drift off into a heavy slumber, as you planned to stay awake the entire night when you couldn’t fall asleep initially.

Your eyes shot open to bright blue irises, your screaming muffled by the palm pressed against your mouth. The brown-haired male smirked at you, a crazy glint shimmering against his eyes as he looked down at you.

The platinum-haired male’s bright green eyes pierced you as he held the blade against your throat, both of them hovering over you as you lay flat against the bed.

“Shh, shh. Relax,” the brown-haired male cooed as his index finger rests against his lips.

Your breathing became frantic, whimpers released against his skin as you tried to calm yourself down. You contemplated fighting them off but knew it wouldn’t be a good idea considering the cold, sharp metal against your throat.

“You’re being so good right now, Y/n,” the blue-eyed male murmured. “Already submissive and shit,” his grin grew, sharp teeth glistening through the dark room.

The lump in your throat grew larger as you felt the pale-haired man press the blade against you just a little harder. Your eyes shut tightly as you try to calm the acceleration of your heartbeat.

“Come on, cheríe. I wanna see your beautiful eyes. Wanna make sure you’re paying attention,” you heard the second voice say, his tone slightly lighter than the brown-haired male.

“Good, good,” the blue-eyed male praised as you complied. “You hurt our feelings, y’know? Ignoring us for that long.”

“And to think you were a little snitch,” he says before his irises shifted upwards in thought. “Or at least you tried to be. Pig didn’t do shit for ya, huh?” he chuckled.

You didn’t understand how they could know. It was impossible for them to have been there because the office is small. It was also unexplainable how they deleted the footage as well. Are they hackers?

Tears burned at the corners of your eyes.

“Oh? Crying, already?” The pale-haired male questioned with fake curiosity on his expression. “We haven’t even gotten started, Y/n. You’re such a sensitive little thing, huh?”

The blue-eyed male’s hand tightened against your jaw as he lowered his head, tongue sliding against your cheek as he lapped up the tear streaming from your eye.

They’re fucking filthy.

The platinum-haired male hummed as he pulled the blade away, only to trail it down the delicate column of your throat, tracing along your collarbone. His grin widened at the way you trembled, your skin prickling beneath the cold steel.

“Look at her,” he cooed, tilting his head as he lazily dragged the knife down your chest. “So scared… so weak.”

The brown-haired one snickered, finally pulling his hand away from your mouth before gripping your cheeks. His fingers squeezed, forcing your lips to pucker. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Not gonna beg for your life?”

You swallowed hard, your throat tightening as you tried to think of something—anything—that might convince them to let you go. But the words wouldn’t come.

The platinum-haired one sighed dramatically, as if disappointed. “You’re no fun, Y/n. I was hoping for at least a little pleading.”

The brown-haired one leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. “Or maybe you want this. Is that it? You wanna get on your knees for us?”

Your eyes widened as you shook your head rapidly, a desperate whimper escaping your lips. “N—No… Please!”

You want to snatch the blade and cut them for making you feel this way. You’ve never been at anyone’s mercy like this. You’ve always been in control of everything in your life. Even unexpected situations. This is humiliating.

“Now she begs,” the platinum-haired one mocked, twirling the blade between his fingers before pressing the flat side against your cheek. “Too bad, cheríe. We were thinking about gutting you from the start.”

Your body locked up, your breath hitching as terror consumed you.

The brown-haired one chuckled, watching every little reaction, drinking it in. “You should see your face right now,” he mused. “So cute.”

You hesitated before suddenly lurching forward. You used all of your strength to shove against their chests, catching them off guard as their bodies shifted back in surprise.

You scrambled towards the edge of your bed, fingers reaching for the floor as you tumbled down. You quickly pick yourself up, ignoring the pain as you run barefoot through the hallway.

Your hand reached for the front door as you were halfway there, sprinting through the living room before a hand yanked you by the wrist, sending you backward as you landed harshly on your back.

Your arms and legs wailed as the brown-haired male pins your hands on either side of your head while his body hovers in between your legs. The green-eyed man kneels above your head as the prickly edges of the blade are pressed against your chin.

Both males sneered down at you as you breathed heavily.

“Get the fuck off of me!” You scream, your throat burning from the strain.

“Here I thought you were a good girl, Y/n,” the blue-eyed male growled. “That’s fine. I like when they fight back anyway.”

“I knew there was something special about you,” the blonde released a breathless laugh. “I say we keep her. What do you say, Kam?”

They both glance at each other before a grin grows on Kameron’s face.

“Well, Charlie. I guess we got a new toy to play with.”

#yandere #yanderes #yandere x reader #yanderes x reader #yandere darling #yandere intruder #yandere oc #yandere stories #yandere male #yandere males #yandere scenarios #dark content #knifeplay #eempyreall #eetherealgoddess #eetherealgoddesss

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 13 hours ago

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Little Miss Sunshine 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Nick Fowler

This AU is called Watcher Anonymous and will include different series for different characters. This is our introduction to Nick and Cloudy.

Summary: a bored man needs a new light in his life.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Nick's eyes stray across the street. He's distracted. He shouldn't be with the tall beauty across from him and her sparkling sapphire eyes. She's stunning to look at but he has to admit her conversation is as dull as the tablecloth. He tries not to let it show. He nods and mutters something about the earrings she keeps bobbling her head to show off.

He swallows a yawn. It's a nice restaurant, the food's always good, and yet he feels so nonplussed by it all. He lives the high life. A nice house, beautiful women, an exciting job. None of it hits anymore. It's all so boring.

Even when he's away on some mission, he doesn't feel much. It's all just so ordinary to him. He does his job and he does it well.

His eyes wander again. He's hungry. That's it. They ordered fifteen minutes ago and the wait is making him restless.

He tilts his head as he watches the girl in her hot pink jacket. He's never seen denim that shade before. Her faded jeans are tattered around the ankles and she wears a pair of heavy boots that were likely once a shade of rose but now no more than a dingy grey. She stands on the curb, watching and waiting down the road. The bus comes this way. The patio looks out on a busy street but today, the lively traffic only feels like a nuisance.

She raises her chin to see over the cars. She perks up then unhooks her large knapsack and brings it around the front. She shoves her arm inside and searches inside as she looks down. She rips her hand out and several items go flying over the pavement. She bends to pick them up as the bus nears the stop. Despite her efforts, she's too slow. The driver doesn't see her and drives past.

She stands, clutching a transparent pouch and her pass, her heavy bag weighing down her other arm. She waves helplessly and tries to chase the bus down. It doesn't heed to her nor does the cyclist heading in her direction. She barely avoids the collision and her foot slips off the curb. She lands in a heap between two bumpers.

He frowns as he watches her. He twitches, ready to get up and jump over the little fence onto the sidewalk. Pedestrians pass her by without a single look. Kelly says his name and he looks at her with a 'huh'.

"Pathetic, isn't she?" She looks across the street and snickers.

He shrugs, "seems like she's having a bad day."

"She's an idiot." She insists.

He grimaces and leans back. "You think so?"

"Sure, I mean. Look at that colour. It's not good on her complexion and she's got that bag overloaded. Can hardly blame anyone but herself--"

"She seems busy. On her way somewhere."

"Oh, I'm sure," she snorts and rolls her eyes. "She really looks like the popular type."

"You know what, I'm not too hungry anymore," he says.

"What?" She scoffs.

"Yeah, waiting kinda turned my appetite." He takes out his wallet and counts the bills. He folds them and lays them on the table. "It's on me. You can give mine to a friend or take it for yourself."

He stands and grabs his jacket from the back of the chair. She gapes at him.

"This isn't about that weirdo across the street?"

He sighs, "no, you're just kind of... not interesting."

He tweaks a brow and turns on his heel.

"Nick," she squeals after him. He doesn't stop.

He struts down the street and crosses at the lights. It's only then he glances back. She's making a scene, crying at the table. He can't remember why he asked her to come to lunch. She has nice legs but she just laid there when they hooked up last week. It was just another thing that had grown stale on him.

He makes his way along the other side. He keeps his distance until Kelly storms off, engrossed in her phone as she angrily texts whatever enabler responds first. He nears the girl in the pink coat. She sits on the curb. She's deflated. Her bag is in her lap as her legs are loosely crossed as they hang off the edge.

Kelly isn't wrong, just not in the way she said it. The girl isn't pathetic or stupid, just a bit down on her luck. He feels a pluck in his chest, the most he's felt in a long time. He's always been the person where everything just sort of goes his way. This doesn't seem to be very different. After all, life brought this curious figure into his life for some reason, right?

He passes her and takes out his phone, using the front-facing camera to get a look at her as he does. She's young. Judging by the keychain on her bag, she's attending the local college. Makes sense. She probably doesn't need a man his age circling her.

He crosses the street again. He looks at her and a wrapper bounces off her head. She looks back at the litterer as they don't even notice their offense. She huffs and gets up. She checks her phone. She grabs the wrapper and puts it in a trash can nearby.. She drops her shoulders and sets off down the pavement. She might be down but she hasn't given up.

Neither has he. Not yet. He thought he was done, that he had everything, but he's so wrong. He just wasn't looking in the right places; at the right people.

#nick fowler #dark nick fowler #dark!nick fowler #nick fowler x reader #the 355 #little miss sunshine #series #watchers anonymous #drabble

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hello-gloomy · 3 days ago

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Relax Cadet

Stanley Snyder x Fem!Reader

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Description: Out in the woods, you and your lover Stanley take on some basic firearm training.

Warnings: Gun usage, lots of touching, raunchy kissing and groping, mild angst. SPOILERS FOR THE MANGA, DO NOT READ IF YOU DON'T WANT IT RUINED FOR YOU.

A/N: I've only watched the first few episodes of season 4, so his personality might be a bit OOC. Forgive me; I will continue to work on it. Also, I decided to release this while I work on two other asks. Currently, it seems they will take longer than I originally planned.

Words: 643

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Gloved hands enveloped yours, steadying the tremors that coursed through your fingers as they gripped the cold surface of the gun. You felt Stanley's presence looming over you, his warmth radiating against your back. He leaned in, his breath a mix of tobacco and something metallic, his mouth brushing against the shell of your ear.

"Shhh, relax, you got this," Stanley murmured in a low, soothing voice, his tone relaxing the tension in the air. Following your line of sight, the both of you studied the array of targets positioned before you. Breathing quietly, trying not to get excited at his closeness, you let him reposition the whole of you into the correct firing stance before he trailed his hands back up your body right back to your hands.

"Keep your eyes ahead." He murmured while steadying your hands again.

"That's what I'm doing." Snipped at him, heat rose to your cheeks as you tried to take this seriously. He chuckled and instructed you on how to fire the gun before backing away and letting you take the first shot. You let out one more shaky breath before pulling the trigger. A wish of air rang out, and metal hitting an object echoed into silence. You looked at the target in slight joy before getting disappointed; you sighed before looking back at Stanley again with puppy eyes, hoping your shoddy aim would make him drop the matter entirely.

"Why are you making me do this again?" You pout as you ask him. He drags on his cigarette, comes closer, and rubs his hand over your shoulder.

"Just because we live in a stone world and are advancing quickly doesn't mean we won't encounter future troubles," he states plainly while holding your chin between his fingers. You grumble at him being right, batting your lashing and hoping for mercy.

He decides instead to continue your impromptu training. He hands you the gun again and spins you around to reface the targets; before you can complain, he kisses you and brushes his hands down you again, backing off and letting you aim once again. You aim and let the second shot ring out, and when you glance at the targets, you drop the gun and spin around, hugging Stanley in pure joy at your accomplishment. He chuckles while spinning the both of you around; he lets you down and holds you close to him, wiping the previous lipstick mark he left on you affectionately. You wrapped your arms around his neck and rose onto your tiptoes for a genuine kiss as a reward. He allowed you to have your way, pressing his lips against yours and smudging the purple around your lips. Gripping your hair in his hands, you sigh softly at his rough touch. You both stop for a breath, mainly for you. He seemed to breathe easily compared to your excitement.

"I'm training you for when I'm not here." He wipes at your lips a bit to make the leftover purple look more even, then says, "If I'm not here," before patting you on the butt. You lean into his hands. "I hope you know we're not done here." You felt like crying; this might as well be torture at this point.

"Aim, Cadet; you'll be almost as good as me by the time we're done." He chuckles while you get into position, readying for the next shot, but before you can fire off the shot again, he comes and whispers into your ear.

"And if you satisfy me with your results, I might even reward you." You almost drop the gun and side-eye him with large eyes. You breathe quietly through your mouth before making the next few shots with little error. You practically preen under his proud gaze, and he hoists you into the air, making due on his previous promise.

#dr stone #x reader #dr. stone x reader #dr stone season 4 #dr stone science future #dr stone stanley #stanley snyder x reader #dr stone x reader

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yanderes-galore · 1 day ago

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for the 16th rivalry between yandere lmk wukong and macaque?? please

Hm... I can try some rivalry HCs, sure!

Yandere! Sun Wukong vs Macaque

Pairing: Romantic - Rivalry

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Possessive behavior, Overprotective behavior, Stalking, Violence, Attempted kidnapping mentioned, Isolation, Jealousy, Dubious relationship.

I think this is a cool idea considering how their dynamic and characters are portrayed in canon.

After all, Sun Wukong and Macaque are meant to be opposites of one another.

They were once sworn brothers and friends, then after Macaque was left behind they were enemies.

Later on they become 'friends' again... but imagine if they both got attached to the same person while being enemies?

Maybe you meet Sun Wukong first, a known hero who gets all the fame.

You may even be close to the monkey king similar to MK, making you both friends.

In this case, Macaque's obsession over you would be to get back at Wukong.

He doesn't want to see the other monkey happy after just abandoning him.

Then while he's originally hunting you down out of spite... Turns out he can see why Wukong enjoys your company.

Alternatively, If Macaque gets obsessed first, he may also use it against Wukong.

Macaque is naturally manipulative, it would not surprise me if he used you to taunt Wukong.

After all, Wukong is beloved by many, but Macaque bets he isn't adored by a special someone.

This ends up making Wukong curious about you.

At the time Macaque wasn't dating you and was lying to mess with Wukong, which made the monkey king look into you.

Unfortunately now both monkeys begin to fight for your affection because Macaque can tell Wukong is going to take you from him... like he's taken everything else.

Another thing I'd like to note about this concept is the fact they seem rather evenly matched.

Macaque is quite literally meant to be Wukong's shadow, they have nearly the same abilities.

Clones, shapeshifting, although they have different fighting styles, they're very similar to one another with the exception of a few skills.

Their motives would also differ between one another.

Wukong tends to lean protective most of the time, while Macaque tends to lean possessive.

However, that does not mean they both aren't capable of these traits... That's just where they tend to lean towards.

I was going to say their rivalry would be petty, but that's only if they were on good terms.

Since Macaque is scared of abandonment, he'd probably aim to get rid of Wukong permanently if he felt you were going to be taken from him.

Meanwhile, Wukong doesn't trust Macaque to not do anything cruel with you.

They're both scared to lose you to the other, but again, different motives.

Wukong thinks you're going to get hurt, Macaque doesn't want to be hurt again...

Which makes both monkeys decide they should try to keep you away from the other.

I do think their rivalry would get violent but they'd never get to the point of killing one another as one of them will always retreat.

Macaque is always following you around like a shadow, hoping he'll get your attention with his sweet words.

Wukong warns you about him, but he's no better honestly.

Macaque stalks you through the shadows, Wukong 'watches over you' as different animals.

See? There's little difference between them but motive and method.

The two still stalk you, the two still fight for you, they're pretty much the same.

Just because Wukong isn't sly and overly charismatic as Macaque doesn't mean he isn't manipulating you in some way.

Both of them want to isolate you, both of them want you to themselves...

Seriously, is there much of a difference between 'protecting you' and 'isolating you' when it comes to them?

No, No there isn't.

Not only that but their fights are nearly catastrophic.

They're both ridiculously strong and determined to get their way.

It may even be a bit upsetting because Macaque just wants to find someone to give him attention?

He definitely takes this rivalry personally since Macaque thinks Wukong has everything.

When in reality, Wukong is probably in a similar boat.

They both just want attention and love from one specific person.

Which, unfortunately, happens to be you.

I can see them both being clingy and brutal in their obsession.

They both like to be playful and clingy with you, completely unwilling to share you.

They both have their sights on you as their partner, probably even for life if they can get you immortal.

Just imagine how their fights would go...

It would not be surprising if they came out of it bleeding, still growling at one another like feral animals until you step in to break things up.

While they may not kill one another, they often drag you around due to their rivalry.

For example, there were probably many times Macaque tried to drag you off into one of his shadow portals... Only for Wukong to step in.

Or maybe Wukong's trying to keep you on Flower Fruit Mountain to hide you from Macaque... Only for the shadow monkey to know exactly where you went.

I feel the only way to stop this rivalry, or at least make them stop being so brutal, would be after the Azure Lion arc.

By that point they're on better terms with one another, not quite friends but not entirely enemies...

Yet they both can't seem to accept the fact they both love you.

They'd tone down the fighting by this point but you'd still need to step in to soothe them.

For now they can accept the fact you love them both... yet they always want more.

They're greedy.

So even if you can calm them, they're still possessive.

They both want you as their own, to claim you and mark you as their chosen partner.

But, neither of them can get that far as the other one will stop them.

While they will accept the fact they both protect you, they both want you safe, and overall have the same goal to keep you happy...

They aren't happy until one of them wins.

They may not kill one another, but their fights seem to get close.

You worry for them, you really do.

Yet there's nothing you can do but let what's going on play out.

Even if you made a choice on which one you want as a partner, if you're even interested... The other would never accept that choice.

What might be worse is you probably don't even reciprocate.

You don't love them like they love you, you see them as friends.

Even if one of them won, you wouldn't be happy.

Either option still makes you isolated and hidden away from anyone else.

It's funny how similar they are... in a morbid way.

It just depends on what you prefer.

A manipulative monkey who wants to treat you like a toy he can't share...

Or would you rather have a monkey who thinks hiding you away will keep you safe and happy on a mountain?

Honestly, in the end, who wins doesn't matter for you... If there's even a winner.

You'll just be given the same outcome even if there's one who wins...

Maybe it's a good thing if neither of them have you and they continue to fight....

#yandere lego monkie kid #yandere lmk #yandere sun wukong #yandere macaque #yandere sun wukong x reader #yandere macaque x reader

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akawifeyy · 2 days ago

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LEMONADE | fic (DR3)

description: as much as he would miss the high-stakes lifestyle of formula 1, daniel ricciardo is ready to start fresh. and the perfect start seems to be in his hometown, where a little girl is running a lemonade stand.

tropes: meet-cute, happy ending, lemonade stand au!, single mum!reader

face claim: none

trigger warnings: mature content (!!), swearing

| note: i love dr3 soooo much y'all, i hope i did him justice 🫶

It all started with the lemonade stand.

A young girl, probably five or six years old, with curly brown braids tied up in pink ribbons, was standing by its side. She stood at attention like a miniature soldier, her eyes watching the street for potential customers.

The hand-painted sign swinging from the top read "Leia's Lemonade Stand" in blocky yellow writing, and a giant beaker of the refreshment was perched on the counter.

Daniel was intrigued. He patted his pockets, looking for any spare change, and found a wad of bills. "Hey," he greeted the little girl, who looked up at him with owlishly large eyes. "I'd like to buy some lemonade? One glass, please."

She beamed, dashing behind the counter to hand him a cool glass filled with sugary yellow liquid. "That'll be two dollars!"

"Here you go," Daniel said, counting out the money and leaving her some extra change, handing it to her. "Thank you for your service."

As Daniel was turning to leave, you walked up to the girl, who was your carbon copy, just a decade or two younger. You were her mother, Daniel assumed. "What do we say, Leia?" you asked, a proud smile evident on your face.

"Thank you and you're welcome!" Leia chirped.

Daniel took a sip of the cool refreshment, sighing in contentment. "This is delicious stuff. Did she make it herself?" he asked you.

"I helped out a bit, but most of this was done herself."

He outstretched his hand. "I'm Daniel."

"Y/N," you replied, taking it. "I haven't seen you around before. Did you just move here?"

Daniel shook his head, trying to formulate an answer. "I just moved back from, uh...out of the country."

"Oh?" you inquired. "I'm jealous, I've never lived outside of Perth. My parents were born here, I was born here, and now Leia was born here. It's tradition, I guess."

He laughed. "Perth is a nice place. The rest of the world is overrated."

"At least you've experienced it," you griped.

Daniel huffed out a breath, reminiscing on his years of fast-paced travel. City after city, country after country. He never stayed in one place for long. "Yeah, I suppose so. Have you really never been outside of Perth?"

You lowered your head, self-conscious. "I mean, I've visited Melbourne for a weekend girl's trip, but my life has been pretty busy ever since I had Leia. And her father...doesn't help out."

Daniel's attention sparked at the mention of Leia's father. "Is he around?"

You twisted your lips in consternation. "He's alive, but he skipped town shortly after Leia was born. Said he was destined for greater things, or some shitty statement like that. I don't remember, and frankly, I do not care. Leia and I get on just fine."

Daniel grinned. "I can tell." He set the glass back down on the counter, and Leia picked it up, putting it under the stand to be washed and cleaned later. "Thanks for the lemonade. Keep up the good work, hm?" he said to her, and she gave him two enthusiastic thumbs-up.

"I'll see you around?" you asked, hopefully in a casual tone.

Daniel nodded, giving you a cheesy wink. "Of course."

Two days later

The doorbell rung half past noon, and you checked the peephole to see who was there. Daniel. He was shifting nervously, wringing his hands out. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" you greeted him, stepping aside so he could enter the house.

"I was wondering if I could get another glass of the lemonade? Leia's done an amazing job with it."

You sighed sorrowfully. "We're all out, sorry. Leia has just started school again, so we haven't continued the business. Maybe we'll make some more during the weekend?"

Daniel pouted. "That blows. I've been looking for a way to talk to you again."

"Sorry." You shrugged one shoulder, and then you realized what Daniel had said. "Pardon me, what did you say?"

Daniel's eyes widened, his face reddening with embarrassment. "Uh, I was hoping to chat with you a bit? If that's alright? I don't want to intrude."

You shook your head, leading him into the living room. A variety of Leia's toys were scattered about, and you bent down to pick them up and move them out of the way. "It's OK, don't worry. My job's remote, so I don't have to leave or anything. Not until two, when Leia comes home from school."

"Great," Daniel said, sitting down on the couch beside you. "I've been bored out of my mind since I've come back to Perth."

You swallowed, not exactly sure of how to respond. "Yeah? Is your past haunting you or something?"

Daniel chuckled. "Not exactly. I'm just used to a lot of hustle-and-bustle, and Perth...isn't really delivering on that."

"Where did you work?" you asked.

He fidgeted with his hands. "Er...I used to be a Formula One driver. I know, wild, but yeah. DR3." He laughed again, but this time it was dry and full of resentment.

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Formula One? My sister's obsessed with it. Wow, that's really cool."

"Yeah, it is. But they moved on to better talent, and now I'm back here." He slouched down, avoiding your gaze.

You gently nudged his shoulder. "Well, I'm glad you've returned and that we've met."

He gave you a wan half-smile.

For another hour, you two chatted away, talking about your past, about Leia, and about your hobbies. You told him about your Star Wars obsession (aka the reason why you'd chosen the name Leia for your daughter), showing him the vintage R2D2 toy you kept on your bookshelf. In return, he told you about how he used to go fishing with his parents in Lake Monger and about some of his F1 exploits.

Eventually, the alarm you set to keep track of when to pick Leia up went off, marking the end of your conversation. "I've got to go," you apologized.

"It's no problem." Daniel waved a hand, brushing you off. "Here's my number in case you want to keep in touch?" He wrote it down on a piece of paper and handed it to you.

"Thanks," you said, flustered.

"See you around, Y/N," he said as he stepped out the front door.

Text messages between Daniel and Y/N (Takes place a week to two months after their first meeting)

Sydney, Australia (Two months later)

"Come on, Leia," you urged your daughter as you led her through a thick crowd of people in the airport. "Don't let go of my hand."

Daniel was in front, leading you towards the exit, where a glossy crimson Ferrari was parked. "Here we go." He opened the door for you, sliding beside you and helping to buckle Leia in.

You smiled at him. "Thanks so much for inviting us."

"No problem, darling."

The pet name sent a curl of heat through your core, and you looked out the window so you wouldn't have to respond. The view was stunning: metallic skyscrapers, a bustling city center. You couldn't believe that this was what you were missing out on your whole life.

About twenty minutes later, the car stopped in front of a sleek modern hotel. You saw Daniel's mum wave at you, and swallowed roughly. You prayed that she would like you.

"Leia, be nice," you chastised her before you disembarked from the car. "Use your manners."

Leia bobbed her head up and down. "I know, Mum."

When you walked over, Daniel's mum immediately struck up a conversation with you, pulling you into a tight embrace. "I'm Grace!" she introduced herself. "And this must be little Leia." She bent down to shake Leia's hand. "You look just like her."

"Thanks," you replied. "It's nice to meet you."

Grace put her hand on her heart. "Danny's told me all about you. I'm happy to see that you're exactly as I hoped."

Your gaze whipped to Daniel, who turned even redder. One more shade, and he could pass for a bearded tomato. "Really?"

"Yep!" Grace clapped Daniel on the back. "He loves you."

You blinked, but didn't blurt anything out. "We should probably head inside."

Daniel nodded fervently. "I agree."

That night

"You want to explain to me what your mum told me?" you probed Daniel, crossing your arms over your chest.

Daniel covered his face with his hands. "Fuck, Y/N, I'm sorry. She's not a good secret keeper."

"Are you saying that she was lying?"

His eyes peeked out from behind his palms. "Do you want me to say no?"

"Tell me the truth," you scolded.

Daniel sighed and took a step closer to you. "She wasn't. Ever since I saw you at that lemonade stand, I thought you were the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. You're funny, and strong, and independent. I want to prove to you that I won't be like the other one. I'm here to stay."

Without a second's worth of hesitation, you tugged on his shirt collar, pulling him down to your height, and kissed him. He moaned softly, his arms snaking around your waist and caging you against the wall. "Fuck, Y/N."

The kiss became more passionate as you tangled your fingers in Daniel's brown curls, and his own found the swell of your breasts underneath your shirt. "You're so perfect," he murmured softly. "Can I?"

You nodded, at a loss for words. Daniel lifted your shirt over your head, revealing the lacy pink bra you were wearing. "Fuck, I'm going to come in my pants like a schoolboy right now. My God, you're a fucking work of art."

You unbuttoned his shirt and loosened the waistband of his pants, letting them fall to the floor. Daniel picked you up, placing you on the bed. "The door's locked," he assured you when you opened your mouth. "If we're quiet, Leia won't know anything."

"Good," you whispered. "I don't want to traumatize her."

He laughed, and kissed you again on the collarbone. Carefully, he placed your hands above your head and said, "I want to have sex with you. Is that OK?"

"You don't have to ask, Daniel," you rasped.

Daniel shook his head. "Yes, I do. Consent is not a laughing matter, darling."

You expelled a breath in faux-annoyance, and he continued his mission. One slow thrust, and he was in you, filling your pussy and making you groan with pleasure. "Daniel..."

"Does it hurt?" he asked worriedly. "I'll go slower."

You twisted your head to look at him. "No, it's fine. Just...not used to this. It's been a while."

He pecked you on the forehead, his arms caressing the curves of your skin. "I won't hurt you, I promise."

He drove into you, the movements firm and sure. Soon, you felt the tidal wave of pleasure build up in you like an insistent hum. "Daniel, I'm going to..." you trailed off, the sentence ending with another moan.

Daniel kissed you on the temple, the touch exactly what you needed to tumble over the edge. "Let go for me, darling."

And so you did, the orgasm rippling over you and making you shudder with satisfaction.

He pulled out a moment later, his own orgasm succeeding yours, and he flopped down beside you, one arm wresting you closer to him. "You're stunning."

"When I'm all fucked out?" you teased.

Daniel played with a loose strand of your hair, his eyes bright with happiness. "Yep."

"You're so silly, Daniel," you poked fun at him, tapping his nose twice.

He flicked your nose, and stated the very obvious fact, "But you adore me."

Three weeks later

Daniel clutched the bouquet of tulips in his hand, suddenly nervous. It wasn't the first time he had taken you out on a date. Hell, it wasn't even the second time. Yet each and every time, he was terrified.

You were perfect.

And he was...he was Daniel, the former F1 driver for four teams.

"Thanks for picking me up," you told him as he ushered you to his car. "I really appreciate it."

He gave you a quick kiss on the forehead. "No problem, darling."

You sat down, and then readjusted your position, feeling something poking your back. It was a box.

"Not a ring," he promised when he saw your expression. "I wouldn't have you accidentally sit on your engagement ring, darling."

You scowled at him, but popped open the top. A beautiful ruby necklace gleamed up at you, and you let out a gasp.

"It's my mother's. She wanted you to have it," Daniel told you.

"Wow, Daniel. This is...breath-taking." You hugged him.

"Just like you," he flirted, and you rolled your eyes. "It's the truth."

You extricated the necklace from the box and clipped it around your neck. "How does it look?"

"Perfect." He kissed you on the lips, one hand nestled on the crook of your jaw. "And all mine."

─── ୨୧ ─── THE END ─── ୨୧ ───

#f1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 #dr3 #dr3 x reader #daniel ricciardo #formula one #f1 fic #f1 writer #f1 fanfic

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yumeflower · 1 day ago

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HIIII!! I’m so happy to see more people writing for Forsaken and the other fandoms you have listen hehe, I just had to send this request in!! Here I go!

May I request Mafioso and 1x1x1x1 with a GN! Reader who blasts music whenever there’s a killing going on and they always get everyone to vibe with them, and they even get the killers to join? And the music can be so random and yet everyone will just go along with it LMAO I need to see their reactions

Thank you again !!!! :D

hey mutual!! Of course I can!! I’m not sure if you wanted this romantic or platonic,so I did platonic! If you wanted romantic I can totally rewrite this!! I hope you like these. Sorry if it’s a little short. And by the way! All my fics are gender neutral,don’t even worry about it <3

Trigger warnings-Skibidi toilet?…,mentions of murder

———————————————————————

🐇💵Mafioso & 💢☠️ 1x1x1x1 With a reader who blasts music!

Mafioso🐇💵

•when he saw you and everyone else dancing to some weird song,he wasn’t even homicidal at the moment.

•this big British mafia man was just,confused. He was smiling,that big hat covering his eyes.

•he snuck up behind you and everyone else dancing to some song that said something like ‘h-o-t-t-o-g-o!!’ He didn’t really get it but he bent down and looked at this person who played the music and just had his head over their shoulder watching them.

•his goons started doing this dance too? He might join in but you had to teach him the dance.

•the next round when he was the killer he was humming it and he saw the dancing person again and said something like “you! Play the hot to go song.”

•this time he sung and danced with everyone,yay?

1x1x1x1☠️💢

•1x1x1x1 was looking for the survivors when he heard a loud song that said something about ‘skibidi’

•he saw the group of people dancing,easy targets.

•he watched a little bit until he spoke up “eugh,hello.”

•he was about to attack until you pulled him in with everyone else as you all danced to the Skibidi song…

•he started breakdancing and the people lowkey forgot that was the killer,they all started hyping him up!

•after this little mini rave he ended up killing everyone but the mystery dance person…

———————————————————————

Sorry if this was short AUGHAHAHAHAH if this is potentially ooc I’m so sorry but YAYY!!

#mafioso x reader #1x1x1x1 x reader #dream game x reader #forsaken x reader #self ship #roblox x reader

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lyracarvahall · 2 days ago

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HeartBeat Sync Part 19

New York, New Beginnings

Part 18 Here

TRIGGER WARNINGS: grinding, biting

After a long snuggly van ride stuck in traffic, they were all in one giant snuggle pile as it was late at night and had been a long day. Y/N found herself snuggled between Yunho and Yeosang. San clung snoring to Wooyoung in the back row while Jongho fell asleep against the window. Hongjoong had his head on Seonghwa's shoulder while Mingi's head touched Seonghwa's in the front row.

A loud band came from security knocking on the outside of the van door. They had finally made it to the airport. More tired than they had been before they started the journey, they slowly dragged themselves out of the van. The luggage carts, including her racks of clothing, rolled by towards the private plane. Hongjoong was still asleep. Seonghwa gently combed the hair out of his eyes and mumbled something in his ear.

Hongjoong stirred awake suddenly and made a sharp inhale when he realized how he was situated. "Don't worry Joongie. We are just at the airport now. Come on." Y/N felt the twinge of hurt come from him down the bond and as soon as they all exited, she made sure to reach for his hand. He squeezed it in gratitude and the pair made their way to the stairs of the plane.

She flashed back in her mind to the last flight that they were on. How they had to be on complete opposite sides of the aircraft and the tension that hung between them. Now it was easy and gentle. They sat next to each other and she snuggled up to him. Seonghwa looked out the window while gently stroking her hair as her head rested against his chest. Maybe she was selfish and it wasn't her business but she was sick of seeing Seonghwa hurting like this.

Y/N showed the screen to Seonghwa as she didn't want to keep any secrets from him. He let out a light gasp and wrapped his arms around her. "Thank you darling. For loving us and for understanding. For giving me a chance to..." she heard a sniffle and he kissed her forehead. "I love you." She felt the sobs in his chest but he didn't make a sound. They were in the back of the plane so she tried her best to protect his privacy.

He cried quietly as the plane took off and soon she found him asleep on top of her head. She gently moved him once they turned off the seatbelt sign and found a pillow to place under his head. Laying herself across his chest, she soon drifted off being rocked to sleep by the rise and fall of his breaths.

The rest was peaceful and serene. She had not known sleep this calm. Maybe it was because she had all of her bonds. She was finally complete.

As Y/N woke, she looked around to realize that she was no longer on the plane but again was in a van and snuggled in San's lap. He must have picked her up and carried her into the van. How humiliating. He hid her face in his chest and he chuckled as he felt the waves of her embarassment.

"Hey there baby. Don't be embarrassed. I love taking care of you." San began kissing her face in delicate pecks across her forehead and eyebrows. She looked up into his eyes and he looked at her with such warm fondness it warmed her heart. She pulled herself up to kiss his lips gently. He hummed contently and used one arm to lay under her ass and lift her up so their faces were at even heights. "There's my girl" Cradling her face with his remaining hand, he curled his fingers grabbing her hair and kissed her deeper.

Yunho's large hands held both sides of her hips and gripped her tightly. Moving her hips so she was grinding on San's abs, she was doing what she could to contain her moans, biting into San's shoulder. "Ah!" he cried out softly but he didn't make any moves to stop her.

Just then the van came to a stop. Both men releases the hands they had on Y/N and she dropped the short distance back into San's lap. The three of them began to giggle hysterically at how carried away they had gotten.

As everyone piled out of the vehicle, she found herself blushing as her men surrounded her. This time, however, things were different. She noticed they clung closer to her than usual and she realized that paparazzi and fans lined the sides of the hotel entrance. They mostly blocked view of her but she still held a hand up to her face. Thank goodness she put on that new outfit. Hopefully no one saw too much of her.

Once they got to the VIP elevator and made their way up, it was a similar situation as DC. A presidential suite for all of them. Y/N was again given the master suite as the others roomed up. All of their luggage was shortly brought up to the room. Once everyone wheeled their to their respective spaces, Y/N looked to Hongjoong and gestured her head towards her room. He caught Seonghwa's eyes and Seonghwa followed the pair. Once they were all inside her room, she sat them down on her bed.

"Okay. I am sorry if this is pushy. I am sorry to force this conversation but it is long overdue, don't you think?" The men nodded in silence. "Now, all I want is love and understanding here. We need trust and openness or this will not work. I admit Seonghwa did not tell me much but he told me enough to where I know feelings are not resolved and things are left unsaid."

Seonghwa sighed and nodded again. Turning towards Hongjoong, he began to nervously spew everything. "I told her that I have always loved you Joong. You were determined to find your soulmate so I never pursued anything but I was always there whenever you needed me. I accepted in my heart that if it was only friendship you desired, I would take that because love is wanting your happiness. Always. Once you found Y/N, I honestly resented it at first and was jealous of the bond you got to share. Then I realized how beautiful she is and the beauty of what you share and I realized I wanted that too. She reached out to me through that song and it hit me so deep in my soul because her words were how I felt....for the both of you."

There were a few moments of silence. Seonghwa was at this point crying furiously. Hongjoong crawled to him and wrapped his arms around him, gently combing his fingers through Seonghwa's platinum locks. "Don't cry Hwa...it's going to be alright." He comforted him for a couple more minutes and then looked at Y/N with distress in his eyes. She gestured for him to speak up. Clearing his throat, he hesitantly began.

"You know that I care so much for you Hwa. Our bond has been undeniable from the start and you have been my closest confidant. I never even allowed myself to explore any feelings like that because you knew my stance. Now that I have found her, that we BOTH found her...it has opened my heart. I had a feeling that you felt this way but I was scared. I was scared of what it would mean for my plans and for me. I don't know what to do. I mean I am not closing the door on it completely. I just need time. To step slowly and see if this is something I can pursue. Is that something you are willing to accept from me? I know it is not the definitive answer you want but it is all that I can give. I do love you Hwa. I just need to be sure of how."

Seonghwa looked at Hongjoong with a tearful smile. "Knowing you love me will always be enough Joongie. Anything else you give will just be a bonus."

Y/N rushed over and hugged the pair of them and then tackled them backwards onto the bed. The trio laughed and eventually she found herself sandwiched between them. Snuggling against Hongjoong she simply whispered, "Thank you." before falling asleep against his neck.

After she fell back to sleep, Seonghwa removed her shoes and jacket carefully. Then he spooned her against her back and Hongjoong gently grabbed Seonghwa's hand before they too fell into slumber.

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

Next Part

Taglist: @imbaebi @vtyb23 @nuggiesnuggetdog04n @mrsminseochoi @addi-3

#poly ateez #ateez x curvy reader #ateez x older reader #poly ateez x reader #soulmates

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lovelypastelsweets · 3 days ago

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♡{Onychinus' Kitten:}♡ [Part #6]

Sylus Qin X female!Cat-Hybrid!Reader

{Notes:}

This is my first fan-fiction, if you have any tip/suggestions please let me know!In this story, the 'reader' is NOT the MC, and is female(I don't have an issue with males reading, but I don't know anything about guys, and I want to be authentic. If you'd like a male-reader fan-fic please collaborate with me to deepen my understanding of the male-mind)

{Trigger-warnings:}

This story will contain mentions human-trafficking(not in-detail; Technically hybrid-trafficking), the experimentation of humans-subjects, mentions past-trauma. ALSO; The reader is described as having all limbs, having the ability to use all senses, and as having hair. I'm sorry if this is an issue, I'm trying to be as universal as possible, but if you'd like a specialized part, please message me.

After dinner, the man, who you came to know as "Sylus", ordered his henchmen to escort you back to your room. He referred to them as "Luke" and "Kiren", but he didn't explain which of them was Luke, and which one was Kiren.

You now sat idly waiting for the two to arrive, with the bare, jet-black oakwood table before you. The crimson-red placement-mat gently cradling your hands as you softly rested them upon the table.

Sylus had left soon after giving his orders, so now it is just you and your new-found crow-companion.

Time seemed to stretch on forever as you waited. You were part cat, of course you get bored easily. It definitely didn't have anything to do with having a lack of a maturity level.

Little did you know, this wait was too, a test; To see what you'd do if you were left alone.

As boredom crept in, you leaned forwards onto the table, reaching out to pet the crow that sat perched on the table.

Y/N: "Hey, little.. Uh..? Me-? Meo-? Me-thh?.. Ah, little guy. I-ah, ha.. I can't remember your name.. He, he.."

You put you fingers through the the crow's feathers; It felt as odd as it looked. The feathers had a metallic texture, it was like dragging your hand across the handles of lined-up, thin silverware. Each feather had a soft texture and had some give, yet they were sold and firm, like a folding-fan.

As you petted the crow, it made a slight machnial "Iiia" noise.

Y/N: "Aw, do yo- Ah!"

Suddenly, you could hear footsteps as you went to speak. There seems to be two people walking towards the dinning room.You jolted into a proper sitting-position, retracting your hands to sit in your lap; The reaction rote.

The door opens to reveal the two hooded people who escorted you earlier.

"Wow, you're still alive? The boss really does like you."

One of them said.

"Surviving an entire meal with the boss definitely speaks volumes."

Said the other one.

"It seems we've been tasked with escorting you, again. So, let's go."

As they spoke, they walked to you, then gestured with their heads to leave. If you weren't imagining it, One of them seemed more flamboyant than the other. Looking closer, you realize that on their hoods, they have differing numbers; "06" and "07".

As you walked down the same hallway you walk earlier, gained the courage to ask for the subordinates' names.

Y/N: "Uh, h-hey? Is it alright if I.. Ask for your names?"

"And, what would you do with that information?"

"Just telling you wouldn't be any fun."

"Yeah."

"Why don't you take a guess?"

They turned towards you, and leaned in.

These two, they seem to be the very definition of "Mischief".

Y/N: "Uh.. Um, You're Kiren and.. You're Luke?"

You pointed at each of them, guessing a random answer.

"Wrong answer! Try again!"

"You only have one chance left!"

They spoke as if you were a contestant on a game-show.

"Um, okay. Then.. You are Luke and you are Kiren."

You said, reversing who you pointed at.

"Nope! That's incorrect!"

They said in unison, laughing as the began walking again.

You let you a small "Wha-!?", before walking with a quickened pace to catch up with them.

As you continue to walk, you caught sight of a window that you were nearing; Going outside was such a scarce thing, only done for training purposes.

Luke and Kiren immediately lifted their guards when noticing your reaction when seeing the window; A glint in your eyes and your fluffy ears gave a twitch. But, after a moment, your expression changed; Eyes drifting downwards and looking dejected. After all, 'why would they let you go outside?'. The twins could understand. And, against their better judgment-

"Do you want to go over there?.. To the window?"

"We can let you."

They spoke with such fragility. They sounded nostalgic. They sounded so gentle. It was like they had just out a band-aid on a old, ugly scar, that was left as a gaping wound since it was made- Not just to cover it, but to treat it with the care it never received. Your heart, it felt tight.

It was odd, but you wanted to take this chance. It may not come again.

Y/N: "O..Okay."

They kept walking, changing the directory to stand in front of the window.

You stood in front of it, the twins stood silently behind you as you slowly came closer.

The window was clean; Shiny and reflective.

You took a glance backwards at the twins, the thought of someone standing behind you while your guard is down makes you uneasy, but they keep at a distance, which at that, you decide to move look back at the glass before you, moving even closer.

Looking at your reflection, you looked odd, but you liked it. You looked so different, you were hardly recognizable. You didn't mind it though, it.. It felt right.

You came even closer to the glass, to see the world beyond it.

Leaning in gently, you hesitantly put your hands on the glass- It's cold. You jerk your hands back at the unexpected chill. After a second, you return your hands on the glass, intakiing the coldness with curiosity.

The dark cityscape sits below. It's a marvelous sight. Your lips curved into a smile, driven by your awe. You breath comes out in little huffs, wonder spreads through your thight-feeling heart and into your nerves. Your eyes widened, sparkles of excitement igniting within them.

Under their masks, the twins wore matching -as always- soft smiles.

"You seem to be enjoying this, but..We need to get going."

Y/N: "Ah.. Oh, okay.."

The sudden statement, brought you out of your awed-state.

Feeling sort of disappointed, you solemnly walked back to your room.

Before you reached the door, the twins came in front of you; One of them stood on the side of the door where the hinges are, holding the doorknob, the other faced you while gesturing the door as if it were a win-able prize.

"Are you ready?"

They gleefully said in unison.

Y/N: "Uh? Yeah..?"

You said, your voice unsure and confused.

"TA-DA!"

The two said with a flourish.

Your breath catches your throat- Before you, on the floor of an originally bare, dark room, is a large verity of bags and boxes filled with girls' clothing, plushies, and other items.

You're frozen in shock. "Did-did they.. Do this?" You thought.

Y/N: "Are.. Are these things.. For me?"

It was self-absorbed to assume, but you had to ask.

"Of course!"

"Who else would all this belong to?"

They replied. The one with "06" on his hood picked up a pink, plush bunny toy.

"As funny as it would be, the boss probably would kill us if we gave him this!".

He said while laughing.

The other twin walk to the gift-filled area and lifted a dress.

"If the boss wears 'this', death would be worth it!"

They both laughed as they pretend to wipe tears from their masks.

Their laughter was infectious, you began to giggle, too.

Without you noticing, they both stopped to witness you smile- It wasn't the forced one you gave before, it was real. It was beautiful. It was pure. It was something rare for the twins to experience, not just because it was from you, but because of the genuine, honest, and raw enjoyment in your smile.

Y/N: "Thank you. This- This is- .. A lot.. And, so.. So nice.. Thank you, both."

Through your slightly embarrassed and awkward laughter, your sincerity seeped through.

Nobody's ever done something like this for you. Nobody's ever went to such lengths for you before. Your chest felt so tight, it, and your stomach hurt. But you couldn't help but to enjoy this feeling.

Would this feeling last, though?

Were they just tricking you into lowering your guard?

["What does the word "Home" really mean?", it's a thought that always plagued you.. Would you ever learn the answer? Could you learn the answer here?]

#love and deepspace #sylus #luke and kiren #sylus qin

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dancingcapybaras · 4 months ago

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just started to read no longer human by osamu dazai. so far, it’s pretty interesting! i’m maybe halfway? through the second notebook

when i was reading the back, the summary mentioned how it was one of dazai’s last complete works and that just suddenly reminded me of a vid i saw of someone basically describing the book as his suicide letter, and i can see why

i don’t know too much about his life. it’s just a bit sad to think that this book was him laying himself bare under the guise of yozo, as if to finally tell people,”this is how it really feels”

that sense of feeling alienated from everybody is personal, and it feels strange to read it out on paper after going on for so long not knowing how to articulate it

the perspective of yozo does have his faults, i know that he’s an unreliable narrator, he does some fucked up things, and his opinions definitely were a product of its time. i just think it shows just how human he really was; he’s flawed.

like when he describes how he didn’t feel like he was loved while growing up, just taken care of. for me that really just illustrates how detached he was, his isolation clouded his judgement. because while yes the people in his life may have just taken care of him and nothing else, there’s also the probability that they really did love him

the writing style is beautiful. i’m not really sure where this will go. i know this is kind of a lot for only the first two sections i just think too much lol

#rant #book rant #no longer human #no longer human by osamu dazai #books #reading #like i saw the trigger warnings for this so im dreading for when it comes #love how the new directions copy has so much space for margins #i can yap all i want in there #i just looked up the trigger warnings again #now i’m extra nervous #like yozo u fucked up didnt u #what are u doing with a teenager #????#like is he a good person? no #but he is a little relatable #and interesting #i was a little scared to post this #please be nice

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ehlnofay · 1 year ago

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It’s not until she hears Sissel’s knees hit the floor that Efri is jolted back into her body.

She blinks, whipping her head around. Sissel is kneeling, bracing a palm on the ancient stone pavement, at the barrier – no, the barrier’s gone, it’s just Sissel on the floor. She lifts her head and meets Efri’s eyes; her hair is wispy and wild, the little plaits meant to keep it neat come loose and tumbling, her eyes wide. The barrier's gone, but still, her pale face is lit up blue.

“Are you okay?” she asks. She doesn’t speak loudly, but it echoes in the great stone chamber.

Nine, Efri doesn’t know.

She blinks again, looks down at her hands, clinging to the metal stick so fiercely that her joints ache. (Her own stick, her nice wooden one, is still on the floor somewhere, where it slipped out of her grasp when she hit the wall.) The lumpy heavy end of it, the clobbering end, is still resting on –

Not on. It’s in the thing’s head, fitted neatly in the opening of its dented helmet, the horns spiralling over the floor. There’s a tooth, perfectly preserved, by Efri’s foot.

One by one, she unwraps her gloved fingers from the handle of the metal stick, letting it drop to the floor with a clang so loud it makes her wince. Kazari is nosing at her side. (When did they let go of it? When did they get so close? She must have missed that. She feels out of the loop. Her heart is juddering like fish on a line, battering like some frightened trapped thing at her ribcage, and her breath is coming fast and heavy.) Absentmindedly bringing up a hand to press over her sore shoulder, she says, “’M fine. Not too – barely touched me.”

Kazari turns and spits on the floor. Efri blinks. She does it again, tongue lolling out of her mouth, face very disgruntled – and oh, Efri gets it. She does not glance down at the thing at her feet; she doesn’t need to, she knows what its arm looks like, chewed almost to pieces even through its banded armour. (If she hadn’t been so busy being scared of it, that sight might have made her a bit scared of Kazari. But not now, when they’re trying to hack and spit the taste of dead man arm out of their mouth.)

Efri unclips her canteen from her belt and holds it out. “Here,” she says. Her voice is rough. Her heart is racing too much to let constructing sentences be easy. “Not much, but –”

Kazari stands still while Efri tips half of the remaining water onto her tongue, and then Efri watches her swilling it around in her mouth, trying to bathe all of her teeth in it, before she spits it again on the floor at the dead thing’s feet.

The water is still clear. That’s something, at least; the dead man was too old to still have blood in him. Or maybe he was embalmed, drained of it hundreds of years ago, thousands.

“Are you okay?” Efri asks Kazari when they’re done, because they were the one doing most of the fighting, who was closest. They tip their head, shift their weight – wince when they put weight on one foot. Their lips peel back from their teeth. Their clothes on that side are singed.

Efri points it out. “Your robe,” she says, which makes it sound much fancier than it is. She’s too tired to think of a better word. She rubs a hand over her face, pushing the hair back over her forehead, says, “I’ll reinforce it for you when we get out.”

Kazari noses at Efri’s shoulder – the shredded fabric of her dress, the fraying edges stained with blood. Efri says, “I know. I’ll have to sew that up too.” Over her shoulder, she calls, “Kazari’s leg’s hurt, I think.”

“There’s blood on you,” Sissel replies. She peels her hand off the floor and leans back on her heels.

Efri touches her shoulder again. “’S fine,” she says. “Just a scrape. The blood’s drying already.”

It’s really sore, actually – the flesh abraded and tender, an ache sinking deep into the muscle – but it’s normal sore, the kind of sore you really should be after being thrown into a wall. It doesn’t feel sprained or dislocated or anything like that. Just like it will be bruised a whole rainbow of colours come tomorrow.

Kazari noses at it again. She leans too far forward and falters on her maybe-hurt leg – rights herself, wincing, and rolls her shoulder. It gleams, just for a moment, and she nearly stumbles again. Efri puts out a hand to steady her. (It doesn’t really accomplish anything – Efri’s strong, but she’s not that strong – but it’s the principle of it.) “What was that spell?”

“Pain relief,” Sissel says from behind her. “I think. Doesn’t actually fix anything, but.”

“You’ll be okay ‘til we find someone?” Efri asks, and Kazari nods. She presses a hand against their shoulder and nods back.

They both turn to look at Sissel, then, who’s just kneeling on the floor, sitting on her heels.

“You all right?” Efri asks her.

“All right,” Sissel confirms. She doesn’t look at them. “Didn’t even come near me.”

She’s staring.

Efri crosses the floor to stand with her. (She needs to lean on Kazari – her legs are too wobbly, and she doesn’t want to touch the dead thing’s stick, doesn’t want to look for her own. Kazari limps a little on their sore front leg.) There’s a moment of total, humming silence – all of them still and staring, necks craned back, looking up at the thing.

Whatever it is.

It’s a ball. Big and blue and shimmering, it floats above a wide crystalline dish set into the floor, spinning on an axis. Just spinning and spinning and spinning, endless motion. Its smooth surface is cut through with dark wavering lines, etched with lettering, and it doesn’t quite glow but it doesn’t not glow, either, the light moving across it silkily, like clouds in a blue sky. It looks like something that should be humming – a low pitch in their ears, an eerie shiver dancing over their skin – but it’s silent. Inert, maybe, but for the spinning.

“What is it?” Efri asks. Her voice cracks as she speaks. She looks down at Sissel’s face, staring as though mesmerised, illuminated by the room’s dim lighting – the fires that should not still be burning down here, the luminous not-glow of the ball.

Sissel says, “I don’t know. Something important.”

Hovering above the dish, it spins, and spins, and spins.

“Is it what the ghost was talking about?” Efri asks. She tilts her head and squints at it. It doesn’t – well, it looks strange and unearthly and powerful, but it isn’t doing anything. And it hadn’t been clear what the ghost was talking about, exactly, according to Sissel, just that it was something important – but what else could it be?

Sissel, still watching it, shrugs. “I don’t know,” she says. “I think so.”

Efri watches it with her, brushing a bit more hair out of her face. It’s sticking to her sweaty forehead. She feels a drip of not-dry blood running down her arm under her sleeve.

Kazari is staring at it too – just as confounded as the rest of them. Efri sees the light in their irises shifting as the ball spins.

They’re not learning anything from staring, the ball staying strange and mysterious as ever, so Efri raps her knuckles against her sternum to steady her breathing (it’s slowed a bit – not normal, but closer to it) and climbs up onto the stone rimming of the dish. Kazari, behind her, lows in consternation; Sissel catches her breath, a noise like a creaking door. “Careful,” she says.

“Promise,” Efri replies, and places her feet very, very carefully on the glassy blue flooring. Nothing happens. She doesn’t step on the dark curved lines as she treads toward the ball in the centre, slow and wary as if she were approaching a skittish animal. Nothing happens.

She reaches out, and, with just the tips of her fingers, she grazes the ball’s surface.

Nothing happens.

It’s cool to the touch, and smooth, like polished metal or not-frozen ice or delicate glasswork. It continues to spin gently under her fingers, warming her glove with friction, no smudges left on its clouded face.

It really feels like there should at least be a tingle running up her arm, a strange and unfamiliar current, a spark. But it’s just Efri, standing with an arm outstretched, pressing her hand to a ball.

“It’s not doing anything,” she reports, and Sissel clambers up onto the dish with her, fitting her palm to its gently hovering underside. Kazari balks, begins pacing agitatedly. Efri frowns. “Why isn’t it doing anything? Shouldn’t it be doing something?”

“It’s important,” Sissel says definitively. There’s ancient dust on her fingers, but none of it seems to transfer. “It’s something really special, I think.”

Efri shifts restlessly. She shifts her grip and tries to grab onto the dark ridged curves ringing its surface, but they slip easily away from her grasp as though her touch was no barrier at all. “But what does it do?”

Sissel shrugs.

Behind them, Kazari lows.

Efri drops her hand and grabs Sissel’s wrist. “C’mon,” she says, and when Sissel frowns at her, “We’re not going to learn anything about it this way. We have to look for clues!”

Kazari makes a more impatient noise. (Efri thinks she found a clue.)

Sissel gives the ball one last searching look and lets Efri tug her away, off the weird blue dish and down to where Kazari stands on the stone floor, at the head of the table where the dead man sat. Efri sniffs loudly and tries not to think about it too much. The table is smooth polished stone, worn a little away with time; Efri trails a gloved finger over the edge and directs her attention to where Kazari points with their chin.

There’s something carved into the surface, the edges blunted and shapes softened by however many years it must have been since it was put there. Efri squints, trying to make it out. She has to stand right up on her tiptoes to get the right angle to see much of it in full.

“That’s not letters,” she says eventually, frowning. She’s pretty sure she knows her alphabet well enough by now to know that. “Is it magic?”

Sissel shakes her head. “I don’t know what it is. It’s not like magical writing I’ve ever seen.”

Efri looks at Kazari, who also shakes her head. “Maybe it’s a different sort of lettering,” she theorises. It must have been written a long time ago, if it’s from back when the city had people. Onmund’s been reading all about it for ages, and he’s told her a bit – Saarthal was the city of Atmorans, populated by proto-Nordic people. All complicated history stuff. But they weren’t quite the same as Nords today, he said, so it stands to reason they had different writing, too. They’re supposed to be uncovering and cataloguing artifacts (at the thought, Efri glances back at the hovering ball and swallows an inane bubble of laughter) so she suggests, “Maybe you can copy it and we can show it to someone. I’m sure there’ll be someone at the College what knows what it is.”

Sissel, also standing on her toes, nods dutifully. “What will you do?”

The chamber they’re in is cavernous, and about empty but for the ball in the dish, the altar and chair, the body on the ground. “I’ll check him,” she says, and points. “See if he has anything on him that’s special.”

Sissel follows her finger and grimaces.

She digs out her note-paper and her stick of char, and Efri assumes it’s clues time, but when she turns she feels a hand grip her elbow. She looks back over her tattered shoulder at Sissel’s face, her furrowed brow.

“Promise you’re really okay?” she says, voice anxious and solemn.

“Promise,” Efri says, twisting her arm to touch her friend’s hand. Sissel presses her lips together and lets go of her arm.

Kazari trails after Efri to look at the dead man.

First thing is the metal stick. It’s magic someway, Efri knows – he waved it and threw her into a wall, flung spells with it – but she’s not sure how. Doesn’t know enough about enchantments. Didn’t need to, to use it; when Kazari clamped down on his arm she just ripped it from his grasp and –

She doesn’t quite exactly remember, actually, except for the bitter tang of adrenaline in her mouth and nose, the horrible grunting and scuffling sounds, the heft of the stick in her hands. Impact, over and over and over, against something that had a little more give each time.

Efri scrubs a hand over her mouth and grips the handle of the stick. It takes effort to wrest it out of the thing’s face, caught as it is by the edges of the helmet, and when it’s finally yanked free it’s – actually not as bad as she might have expected. There’s no blood, and the corpse was so desiccated it already didn’t even really look like a person anymore, so it registers less as someone with horrible violence done to it and more as a really gross art piece. It’s not nice. She doesn’t like the twisted, gaping mouth, teeth embedded wrong-ways in its tissue and scattered like coins over the floor. And one of the eyes, which had glowed unearthly blue, is now a dull, rotten black, squished like a plum in its socket.

It's worse the more she looks. She sniffs and turns away.

“This is magic, right?” she asks Kazari, testing the weight of it in her hands, the cool surface of the metal, and they nod. “A good artifact?” she adds, and they nod again, emphatically. Efri sets the stick aside and kneels.

It wasn’t wearing any clothes, really – or if it was, they rotted away. She touches the rusted armour gingerly, tries to avoid brushing her gloves against the shrivelled skin at all. Whoever it was had expensive taste, it seems – there’s jewellery in a shockingly well-preserved beard, pendants around the neck, armbands. Efri asks Kazari if each thing is enchanted. No to the armbands, no to the beard-ring, and then, pressed against the wizened chest where the flesh contours to the ribs, she finds some kind of necklace, sharp-edged and thrumming. Kazari nods to that, and, face scrunched up like an old fruit, Efri reaches around the ancient neck to slip it off.

She tucks it into a belt pocket with the tripwire necklace they found at the weird wall.

“Done,” Sissel says. She folds her paper and slips it into her own pouch. Her footfalls on the echo-y stone floor as she approaches the body for the first time are almost silent. “Did you find anything?”

“Necklace,” Efri replies, watching Sissel’s face pinch at the sight of him. “And – stick.” She scoops up the metal stick and holds it out. “He did spells with it.”

Sissel looks at it warily. “Is he a draugr?” she asks, glancing back down at his mashed-up face.

“I mean,” Efri says, “he’s got to be, right?” She’s certainly never seen a draugr before, but what else could it be?

(Calling it a draugr makes her shiver, the set of her shoulders quaking. She’ll stick to dead man.)

Sissel shudders. She reaches out to grip the handle of the stick, and Efri’s not sure if she’s taking it or just trying to keep herself upright. “I can’t believe that happened,” she says. Her voice sounds, suddenly, fragile. “I can’t believe we’re alive.”

“Me neither,” Efri says. She presses the tip of the stick into the ground so Sissel can lean on it, stands a little unsteadily.

Kazari, with a hushed murmur, telegraphs something. Efri recognises the head incline of understanding – she’s familiar with that word, that idea – and, after a moment, the flickering ear of doubt.

“They’ll have to believe us,” she says with conviction, because she means it. “We’ll show them. They’ll see for themselves.”

Kazari presses their nose to her head.

Efri clasps her hands together. “We’ll go tell someone now,” she declares – though it’s easier said than done; they were lost in the ruins ages before they even found the crumbling wall, the halls, this horrible wonderful chamber. But they’ll get un-lost eventually. They’ll get out eventually. Surely. They have practice enough with walking. “But first – help me find my stick.”

#little girl has a kill count now!! more at 11 #for context: I altered stuff leading up to the discovery of the eye #efri and sissel went off to play in the undiscovered halls of this ancient archeological dig site #on the grounds that efri has a great sense of navigation and they'll find their way back to the group no problem.#(efri has a great sense of navigation in the wilderness.)#(introduce her to a series of roads and buildings and she is lost in the sauce.)#their friends split up to look for them after they've been missing from a while (wandering around with great interest and no sense of place #(incredibly lost)#kazari happens upon them right as they've found a necklace at the end of a dead-end passageway that - when dutifully grabbed #for archeological research purposes - ended up triggering the wall to crumble or disappear or otherwise remove itself from the equation #and efri wasn't going to just. LEAVE that opening there.#come ONN kazari that's weird!! we can't just leave it!! what if it closes up and we never ever find it again and there's incredible secrets #that the college never finds! what if we never know what's through there!#we HAVE to know what's through there!#so on they go.#and so ensue the horrors #they pass a lot of dead bodies before the main all but those ones are all immobile #also sissel is the only one to receive the psijic projection warning. which she explains to the others as a ghost telling her secrets #which efri accepts bc this seems like the kind of place that would for sure have ghosts #and kazari goes sure that tracks this place is fucking creepy can we leave now (<- is also curious but HAS to put on a show of reluctance #because clearly no-one else is going to)#(permanent babysitter of kids with the worst self-preservation instincts imaginable)#(she is so strong. living every childcare worker's nightmare)#ANYWAY #:D #normal type stuff #posting because it matches the artwork I'm also posting! look at that thing!!!#fay writes #oc tag #efri

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