#i feel foolish for taking this long to realize | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lowkeyren · 6 days ago

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—how to win my husband over 101

in which : you marry the ruthless prince of kremnos, and everyone says you'll never thaw his heart. but you’re nothing if not stubborn. surely all you have to do is win him over right? how hard can that be?

wc 8.7k (it’s worth it trust me), historical au, marriage of convenience, sunshine x grumpy, strangers to lovers, you fell first + he fell harder, fem reader referred to as “princess” / “milady”, ts burns so slow u might rip ur hair out sorry, heavily ib how to get my husband on my side. art by @/kannbergri on x.

surprise pookies @vxnuslogy @luvether @knnichs @kazucee it’s finally here!!!!

PROLOGUE: HOW TO SURVIVE THE EARLY DAYS

you married a stranger to save your homeland.

there was no love in the arrangement, no romantic vows exchanged beneath moonlit skies, no promises of forever whispered in soft voices. just firm handshakes and signatures inked on parchment.

it was a straightforward agreement: kremnos would protect your people in exchange for a union, and you were sent to marry the crown prince, mydeimos, to solidify the alliance.

you had heard his name long before you ever saw his face. prince mydeimos of kremnos —a name whispered with reverence, with fear, with awe; carrying the weight of countless victories carved into the blood-soaked chaos of battlefields.

but none of those stories prepared you for the reality of him.

the grand hall of kremnos' palace feels colder than you imagined.

marble floors stretch endlessly beneath your feet, polished to a gleaming perfection that seems to reflect the distance between you and the life awaiting you here. the walls, adorned with banners of deep reds and golds, do little to warm the oppressive air.

servants pass by in hushed movements, their heads bowed, their whispers inaudible. the air carries the faint aroma of polished wood and lingering incense, yet there is no warmth to be found —not in the hall, not from the people, and certainly not from the man standing at the far end of the room.

you bow slightly out of instinct, a gesture of respect, though you feel foolish doing so in the context of your marriage.

dressed in the royal garb of kremnos, a deep red cloak embroidered with gold thread draped over his shoulders, his marigold eyes lock onto yours with piercing intensity.

“princess,” he greets you, his words polished to a fault —exactly what you’d expect from a prince.

“your highness,” you reply, matching his formality.

“welcome to kremnos, i trust the journey was not too difficult.”

it’s not a question, you realize. merely a statement to acknowledge your presence. you offer a polite nod, “the journey was smooth, your highness,” you reply, your voice steady despite the unease creeping into your chest. “thank you for your hospitality.”

you watch as he takes a glass of reddish liquid from a servant standing nearby, lifting it to his lips with ease, the vibrant color catching your eye.

the rich crimson hue seems too unnatural for something as mundane as wine. your gaze fixes on the glass as he drinks, a chill running down your spine as an unsettling thought creeps in.

is he drinking... blood?

your heart skips, a sudden nervousness, and you quickly avert your gaze, unable to meet his eyes.

he catches your stare however, “what is it that you find so fascinating?”

flustered, you lower your head, stammering, "i... beg your pardon, your highness.”

you can feel your pulse quicken, the heat rising in your cheeks as you panic. the weight of his cold gaze is almost unbearable, and you fear you’ve already made a fool of yourself.

for a moment, you dare not look at him, the silence stretching uncomfortably between you.

the prince casually wipes the red liquid from his lips with the back of his hand, as your eyes drift involuntarily toward the glass once more, still questioning its contents.

his eyes flicker to you as they narrow, “still curious?”

you freeze, wrecking your head for a sensible answer lest you further embarrass yourself.

with a sharp sigh, he places the glass down on the tray. “it’s pomegranate juice, nothing more.”

you blink, stunned for a moment, the absurdity of your previous assumption crashing down on you.

“pomegranate juice,” you repeat softly, as if testing the words to see if they make sense.

“yes. is that so difficult to believe?”

that night, you lay on the luxurious bed in your chamber, the events of the evening swirling in your mind. you shake your head, embarrassed by your own overactive imagination.

you turn onto your side, pulling the heavy blankets tighter around you, but sleep evades you.

yes, your husband is a man of few words, fewer emotions, and absolutely no warmth when it comes to you. yet within that frost lies a heart, waiting for the right touch to thaw it.

ACT I: HOW TO DRAW HIS ATTENTION

over the weeks, you've learned many peculiar things about your husband.

you’ve noticed, for instance, that he always rises before dawn, and spends hours in the training grounds perfecting his form —an unyielding warrior at heart. or how he has an unusual preference for adding goat's milk to his pomegranate juice, a combination that strikes you as strange yet somehow fitting for him.

you’ve also discovered that, contrary to expectations, he favors the color pink —an oddly delicate choice for a man so rigid in his demeanor. and while he is undeniably polite, he also remains stern and is not one to easily open up, not even to those closest to him.

all that you've learned, you’ve used in an attempt to earn his favor, though your effort often feels like trying to breach a concrete wall.

(one day, you deliberately rise early, before the sun fully breaks over the horizon, and make your way to the training grounds.

there, you find a concealed spot in the shadows, watching him spar with the guards. you’ve gone, in part, because you want him to know you care, but also because of the impressive display of his skill that subconsciously draws you in.

it’s not long before he notices your presence; his expression remains impassive, but his gaze hardens, narrowing slightly as he observes you making your way to him from across the field.

as you finally reach him, you extend the water in your hand. but just as you take a step closer, your foot catches on an uneven stone. you stumble forward, crashing into him, and spilling the cold water across his chest.

the gasp that escapes you is quickly followed by frantic apologies.

"princess," he says coolly, the water dripping from his toned muscles, tracing the lines of his broad shoulders and down his chest. "...are you always this clumsy, or is today a special occasion?"

ah.

well at least he has jokes..?)

or after noticing how he often stays silent during meals, you decide to change the pace.

(at the dining hall, you ask about his interests, but he only gives brief, impersonal responses; his attention fixed on his plate, quietly indulging in the honey-drenched pancakes. you try to make a lighthearted joke, but he doesn’t even look up, offering only a polite “i see” before the silence drapes over the table again.

so, you finally decide to try a more… direct approach —flattery. surely, no man can resist a little charm, right?

you lean close as you gather all the courage you can muster, batting your eyelashes at him hoping you appear as endearing as you intend.

"i must say, my dear husband, you —uh, you are unmatched in your… strength and wisdom. it’s no wonder my heart can’t help but be drawn to you..?”

well that didn’t exactly sound convincing.

“and… your arms, they’re quite impressive. i mean —wait, that’s not what i meant—”

and that certainly didn’t make it any better!

you brace yourself, expecting a sharp rebuke or, at the very least, some irritation. but instead, he simply nods, offering a brief, detached “thank you” before turning his attention back to his meal.

you immediately avert your gaze, feeling a pang of relief. though it’s strange to think that at any moment, your husband might decide to chop your head off for being so foolish (...if he felt so inclined) he is the crowned prince, after all; and while his politeness is unsettling, it’s still better than his wrath... right?)

either way, it’s clear that your efforts have made not the slightest dent. better luck next time!

today will be different.

failure has never sat well with you, and after last night’s mortifying attempt at charming your husband, you refuse to let things end on such a dismal note. if words fail, then perhaps actions will speak louder.

so, with a woven basket tucked under your arm, you wander through the palace gardens first, where roses and marigolds flourish in a riot of color, their petals unfurling like delicate silk under the afternoon sun. honeysuckle vines twist gracefully around the trellises, their sweet fragrance lingering in the warm afternoon air.

you kneel amidst the blooms, fingers brushing over soft petals, feeling the gentle give of each flower beneath your touch. carefully, you pluck a few of each, tucking them gently into your basket, mindful of their fragile stems. you arrange them just so, already picturing the bouquet coming together in your hands.

but as you wander further, you find yourself drawn toward the edge of the estate. past the hedgerows and beyond the garden’s stone pathway, you notice something that catches your eye, a cluster of wildflowers —soft pinks and gentle whites.

perfect! these will be the finishing touch to complete your bouquet for mydeimos.

pleased with yourself, you smile and make your way toward the water’s edge. leaning forward, you stretch out to pluck one, your body lowering toward the ground, shifting your weight slightly, when—

a sudden force slams into your back.

the breath is knocked clean from your lungs. there's no time to react as the world tilts violently, and before you can even scream, the cold shock of water swallows you whole.

it’s deeper than you thought.

icy water rushes into your nose and mouth, sending a searing burn down your throat. panic grips you as the world above fractures into shimmering light, distorted by the rippling surface. you try to push yourself up, but alas, the weight of your dress still drags you down.

as you thrash around uselessly, your limbs start growing heavier. the surface above you slips further away; and the last thing you register is the sensation of strong arms wrapping around you —with a final strained breath, your vision dims to nothingness.

the next thing you feel is warmth.

your head rests against something solid, a steady rise and fall beneath your cheek .a firm hold keeps you close, one braced securely around your back, the other hooked beneath your knees.

you blink sluggishly, your lashes heavy with water. that’s when you realise, you’re in the arms of your husband.

his hair clings to his forehead, damp strands framing the sharp angles of his face. droplets trace slow paths down his jawline, soaking into the dark fabric of his tunic —leaving nothing to the imagination.

for a moment, disoriented and breathless, you can only blink up at him.

did he jump in after you..?

“why did you wander off alone?” he chastises, snapping you back to reality.

your throat feels tight, your heart hammering in your chest. "i-i just wanted to do something for you!" the confession spills from your lips, desperate, your fingers clinging instinctively to the soaked fabric of his sleeve.

it’s foolish, maybe, but you’re still reeling —from the near drowning, from the fact that mydeimos saved you.

he exhales sharply, exasperation heavy in his breath. "why are you like this…" his grip tightens on you, but there’s a tension in his voice as if he’s swallowing something he can’t quite put into words. “didn’t i say there’s no need to attract attention this way?"

the accusation stings, your brows knit together as you shake your head, droplets of water slipping down your temples. "i just… thought you’d like some flowers."

his fingers, still curled beneath your back, twitch slightly, his hold unconsciously steadying you.

“you don’t need to do anything reckless just to get my attention," he murmurs at last, his voice softer now, no longer edged with frustration. then, almost hesitantly, he adds, "...if you want something, just come to me."

mydeimos shifts, adjusting his hold on you before finally rising to his feet. the movement is effortless, but even so, a sharp chill runs through you as the air bites at your damp skin. before you can fully steady yourself, he places you down, his hands lingering for a second longer than necessary before withdrawing.

your dress clings uncomfortably to you, heavy with water, and when you glance down, you spot the basket lying a short distance away, half-tilted on the grass. the flowers you so carefully picked are scattered around it, petals crumpled, stems bent.

a pit forms in your stomach. all that effort, and now—

a shadow moves beside you. mydeimos steps forward, the hem of his cloak grazing against the fallen blooms. he considers them for a moment, then looks back at you.

“well?” his voice is steady, and you can’t quite grasp the intention behind it. “you went through all that trouble to gather the flowers… aren’t you going to give them to me?”

sure they're not nearly as perfect as they were when you first picked them. still, you kneel, fingers brushing over the damp grass as you carefully pick up the least damaged flowers, smoothing out the crumpled petals as best you can.

“…here.” slowly, hesitantly, you extend the bouquet towards him.

his fingers brush against yours as he accepts the flowers. “sorry they’re ruined,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper.

he shakes his head, unbothered. “they’re mine now, so i’ll take care of them.”

there’s no mockery in his expression, no disdain for your failed efforts. if anything, there’s something almost unreadable in the way he looks at you, something that makes your heart lurch against your ribs.

he spares you one last glance, then turns. “come. you need to get changed before you fall ill.”

and just like that, your husband walks ahead, idly twirling one of the flowers between his fingers. hardened steel and soft petals, strength and fragility; it doesn't look out of place.

somehow, it fits him too well.

ACT II: HOW TO CARE FOR A WARRIOR

once a year, the empire erupts into feverish anticipation for the annual gladiatorial tournament. a traditional competition of strength, bloodshed, and sheer willpower.

held in the heart of the capital, within the city of kremnos; warriors from across the kingdom —such as knights from noble houses, seasoned mercenaries, and ambitious upstarts, all gather within the grand coliseum, each vying for glory, honor, or a place in history.

and three weeks from now, the coliseum will roar with life, filled to the brim with nobles and commoners alike, all eager to witness the blood and glory that’ll unfold within the arena.

the tournament may be weeks away, but mydeimos knows better than to grow complacent.

within the castle training grounds, the clash of steel echoes through the air, each strike reverberating like a war drum. two figures move in relentless rhythm, locked in a sparring match that is as much a dance as it is a battle.

mydeimos meets his opponent’s strike head-on; phainon, captain of the royal knights, his equal in skill if not in strength, matches him blow for blow. the force of the impact ripples through his arm, but he does not waver. instead, he swiftly pivots, forcing mydeimos onto the defensive.

the crown prince presses forward, his sword carving ruthless arcs through the air, a feint —then a sudden, brutal swing aimed at his opponent’s side.

phainon barely manages to parry, their blades grinding against each other in a fierce deadlock. exhaling sharply through his nose, he holds firm against the pressure. “mydei,” phainon mutters, breathless. “don't hold back."

mydei’s gaze remains unreadable, but there’s a flicker of something —amusement, perhaps, before he abruptly shifts his weight. with a sharp twist, he breaks the deadlock.

“HKS,” he counters, shoving forward with enough strength to force phainon back a step. “getting tired?”

phainon lets out a short laugh, adjusting his stance. “not in the slightest.” he disengages, spinning his blade in a quick counterstrike.

alas, the fight reaches no clear victor, ending in yet another stalemate.

exhaling, phainon lowers his blade. “not bad.”

but before mydei can respond; a slow, warm trickle down his arm draws his attention. his gaze flickers downward —a thin slash mars his bicep, blood welling along the cut.

the knight’s expression shifts, eyes catching on the wound. “heh looks like i take the win this time,” he gloats, though there’s a slightest hint of concern in his tone.

“...though i do apologise, your highness,” phainon says, eyeing the wound with a tilt of his head.

mydei rolls his shoulder, testing the ache, then huffs. “nothing to be sorry for.” his lips curl slightly, eyes flicking back to phainon.

“but don’t think this means i’m letting you off easy. we’ll settle it properly next time.”

“oh? and here i thought you’d take the loss with dignity for once,” phainon snorts, sheathing his blade in one smooth motion. “but i suppose i wouldn’t want you growing too accustomed to losing.”

“you land one lucky hit and suddenly you’re talking like you’ve dethroned me.” mydei scoffs, already turning toward the weapons rack. phainon watches him go, shaking his head to himself before following suit.

mydei doesn’t know why you’re worrying so much.

the cut is insignificant, to him at least. within hours, it’ll be gone —his body already stitching itself back together. he doesn’t need tending to, least of all by you.

and yet, here you are.

as you sit beside him, your hands deftly press a cloth soaked in cool water to his wound, cleaning away the dried blood with careful strokes. for some reason, seeing you like this —fussing over him with a tenderness he’s never quite experienced before —renders him quiet.

“…you’re frowning,” he murmurs.

“because you’re hurt,” you say as a matter of factly, setting the cloth aside before reaching for a bandage. your fingers are gentle as they smooth it over his skin, lightly tracing the curves of his biceps.

he watches the way your lips press together, tying the final knot with a delicate tug, patting the fabric down as if to reassure yourself that it will hold.

something tugs at the edge of his mind.

you’ve pretended to love him ever since you stepped foot in kremnos; he thought he knew every expression you wore, every feigned tenderness. but this —this time, it’s different. there’s no audience here, no need for the carefully crafted role of the adoring wife.

so why do you still look at him like that?

his breath stills. he doesn’t know what to make of this.

“…please be more careful next time.” mydei glances at his arm, the ache is already fading.

you don’t know how pointless all of this is. by morning, there won’t even be a scar.

you exhale softly, your brows still furrowed in concern. then, as if unable to help yourself, your fingertips ghost over the bandage, smoothing it down with a tenderness that makes his chest tighten.

“does it still hurt?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

he should say no. he should tell you it’s nothing.

but when he looks at you —sees the way your eyes linger on him, so earnestly unguarded. he falters.

“…not much,” he admits instead. “you act as if i’m on death’s door.”

“and you act as if you’re invincible,” you retort softly.

he freezes.

he almost laughs at the irony of it —because in some ways, you aren’t wrong. his body will always mend itself, his wounds never lasting long enough to be of real consequence.

but his darling wife doesn’t know that.

and perhaps that’s why he lets you worry, lets you dote on him with such sweet, unknowing devotion. because, against all logic —against everything he’s told himself, he finds that he likes it.

your touch finally retreats, hands settling in your lap. “i’ll leave you to rest, your highness.”

you rise from your seat, and as you turn to leave, mydei catches himself watching the space where your hands had been, the phantom warmth still resting against his skin.

for a wound that’s already gone, he finds it strange —how reluctant he is to let it fade.

ACT III: HOW TO AVOID MISUNDERSTANDINGS

"sir phainon, thank you for showing me around the city," you say, offering the man beside you a faint smile as you step around a corner.

the knight dips his head, “of course, milady. the pleasure’s all mine."

you’re glad phainon took time off to accompany you —wandering the city alone would’ve definitely left you lost and stewing in your own thoughts.

phainon glances at you, amusement tugging at the corners of his mouth. "but i’m surprised his highness let you wander the city with another man," he muses.

you let out a small laugh, running your fingers along the petals of a flower display as you pass by. "well, i don’t think he cares."

phainon’s steps slow, his brow lifting ever so slightly, as if he isn’t sure whether he misheard you or if you’re simply playing coy. "you don’t think he—" he exhales a sharp chuckle, running a hand through his hair. "hah. now that’s funny."

you shoot a puzzled look at him,"what is?"

to phainon, who’s seen the way mydei looks at you, heard the way he speaks of you; your words make no sense at all.

—but he holds his tongue. "nothing, milady. let’s keep walking before i say something i shouldn’t."

the warmth of the moment sours when you round a corner near the market square. there, just past a cluster of gossiping nobles, mydei stands stiffly, arms crossed as he listens to a young woman speak.

you recognize her —a lady-in-waiting that serves in the palace.

“…always playing the victim,” she sneers, voice pitched just loud enough to draw attention. “everyone pities her, but really, she’s just an outsider to kremnos—”

your steps falter, confusion flickering across your face. is that lady… talking about you?

“she was never worthy of standing by his highness’s side!” the lady continues with simpering disdain.

beside you, your companion stiffens, his fingers subtly curling at his sides. he’s noticed, too.

but before you can fully process the words, she lets out a haughty laugh. “she tripped herself that day. i only gave her a little push and—”

“what?” mydei’s voice cuts through the air, his eyes narrowing.

the lady startles, whipping around to face him, but quickly smooths her expression into one of feigned innocence. “y-your highness…” she lowers her head just slightly. “i only meant that a mere nudge shouldn’t have been enough to send her stumbling so helplessly.”

she offers a small, demure smile. “unless, of course, one lacks the grace befitting a princess.”

“it was unfortunate that your highness was troubled because of—”

her words trail off as her gaze flicks to the side, right where you stand.

and in that fleeting moment, mydei follows her line of sight.

your breath catches. you hadn’t meant to be seen.

a small, almost imperceptible smirk forms on her lips; just as mydei glances to your side, his attention diverted for a split second; she falls toward him, her body angling toward him in a way that all but demands he steady her.

you feel a jolt of realization —her intentions are clear as day towards you.

mydei’s eyes barely flicker as she topples toward him, but his hand moves —not to steady her, as she so clearly intended, but to seize her wrist in a firm, unyielding grip.

with a sharp tug, he wrenches her upright, the motion not even close to an act of chivalry.

a startled gasp slips past her lips, her wide eyes darting up, stunned by the strength of his hold. the gathered onlookers murmur amongst themselves as the prince fixes her with a cold, unreadable stare.

“tell me. are you purposely trying to cause a misunderstanding between me and my wife?”

the lady blanches, her mouth opening and closing as she scrambles for a response. “y-your highness, i would never—”

“spare me the excuses.” his fingers uncoil, and she stumbles back, barely catching herself. she cradles her wrist as though burned, whether from pain or humiliation, it’s hard to tell.

“guards.” mydeimos doesn’t raise his voice, but the command rings clear. two armored figures stationed nearby immediately step forward, “take her away.”

“y-your highness, i only—”

mydeimos doesn’t even spare her a glance as he delivers the lady’s fate. “for daring to put her hands on the princess, she is to be punished accordingly. let this serve as a reminder, such conduct has no place in my court.”

the color drains from her face as the guards seize her by the arms, her protests falling on deaf ears. the onlookers part to make way, some exchanging knowing glances, others whispering amongst themselves.

then mydeimos’ gaze softens —only slightly, in your direction.

phainon leans in, “and yet, milady insists that his highness does not care?”

but you don’t respond, heart fluttering traitorously in your chest as mydeimos turns on his heel and strides toward you.

with a small tilt of his head, he nods to phainon before finally speaking.

“she was desperate,” he remarks, voice edged with dry amusement. “did you see how she threw herself at me? pitiful.”

he studies you for a moment, something unreadable flickering behind his gaze. “...you weren’t fooled, were you?”

you blink, caught off guard by his question. “of course not, your highness.”

ah. was he worried you’d misunderstand?

his lips part slightly, but no words come, instead he just exhales softly, as if to himself. “good.”

phainon, ever perceptive, arches a brow but says nothing of it. instead, he steps back with a knowing tilt of his head. “well then, i shall take my leave. duty calls, after all, milady, your highness.” with that, he turns on his heel and disappears into the crowd, leaving just the two of you.

mydei’s eyes linger on you —searching, almost reluctant, before he finally tears his gaze away. “we should go.”

he starts walking, and you follow, the quiet rhythm between you shifting in a way that's hard to place. it’s subtle, so subtle that if you weren’t paying enough attention, you might’ve missed it.

the way his steps fall in sync with yours, slowing his usually large strides ever so slightly, as if unconsciously matching your pace. the way his hand hovers near yours, close enough that if you swayed even slightly, your fingers might brush.

it doesn’t feel intentional, and yet, it doesn’t feel like an accident either.

the marketplace hums around you both; vendors calling out their wares, the scent of fresh bread and spices curling through the air. but your mind is elsewhere, lingering on the man beside you, on the things left unsaid.

at some point, curiosity gets the better of you. “your highne—” “mydei.”

…would it be foolish of you to think of it as a plea? that, beneath the indifference he wears so well, he cares how his name sounds when spoken by you?

(because with you, he doesn't need to be the prince of kremnos, nor the valiant warrior they call mydeimos. he’s just your husband, mydei.)

you glance up at him, but his gaze stays ahead. he doesn’t offer an explanation; your thoughts linger on that single word, and maybe that’s why, after a moment’s hesitation, you decide to give it a try.

“mydei… what were you doing in the market today?”

he doesn’t answer right away. a terribly fond smile tugging at his lips.

he looks good like this, you think.

with a glance to the side, he replies, “nothing of importance.”

a half-truth, at best.

your thoughts drift back to the last time you were here —the flowers you had given him, bright and delicate in his hands. an odd sight, perhaps, yet somehow, they suited him.

a ridiculous thought takes root before you can stop it.

could he have been looking for ways to take care of them? …surely not.

but any doubt vanishes the moment a florist calls out to him. “your highness! you’ve returned! here, this is the care guide you requested, along with the special fertilizer. it should help the flowers bloom beautifully.”

mydei takes the offered items with a nod, thanking the florist who beams, clearly pleased to be of service.

"you must truly cherish them, your highness," they remark. "not many would go through such trouble for a simple bouquet."

mydei only hums in response, tucking the items away as he turns back to you. for a moment, it almost seems like he might explain himself, but instead, he merely lifts a brow, as if daring you to say something about it.

warmth unfurls at the edges of your chest, spreading slowly, irresistibly.

you press your lips together, fighting the smile threatening to surface. "so," you muse lightly, "you’ve been taking good care of my flowers?”

mydei exhales, the ghost of an amused smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "it would be a shame if they wilted so soon,” he says. then, as he starts walking again, a quiet afterthought —so soft you almost miss it.

"especially when they were a gift from you."

and this time, when his hand hovers close to yours, you don’t resist the urge to let your fingers brush.

ACT IV: HOW TO TAME HIS JEALOUS HEART

it’s late —past the hour most would retire, yet the training grounds remains lit by torches that flicker against the cool stone walls, their flames casting long, dancing shadows. mydeimos leans back against the walls, arms loosely folded across his chest as his gaze follows phainon sharpening his blade a few paces away —though, truthfully, his thoughts are elsewhere.

it’s phainon who breaks the silence first.

“you know,” he starts, glancing up without looking directly at the prince, “you’re awfully quiet these days, your highness.”

he wipes his sword down lazily, throwing a glance over his shoulder. "...say, mydei."

mydei doesn’t look up, but his posture shifts, "what?"

phainon lets the silence drag for a moment, almost like he’s weighing his next words.

“do you have genuine feelings for [name]?"

the words land like a blow in the silence between them; he doesn’t bother to wait for an answer.

“because if you don’t, i was thinking maybe i’d give courting her a try.”

ah. that does it.

mydei’s eyes flick to him, and if looks could kill, phainon would be six feet under —and the former wouldn’t even spare the effort to toss dirt over his grave.

phainon laughs quietly under his breath at his comrade’s reaction, not bothering to hide the tilt of his mouth.

“don’t cross the line.” the words fall from mydei’s lips, low and clipped like a warning.

phainon laughs —the kind of laugh shared only between men who’ve known each other long enough to grow used to the other’s sharp edges.

“relax,” he drawls, sheathing his blade with a lazy flick. “i was just joking, you can stop glaring at me now.”

“i’m not mad i—”

“you’re not mad because you think i meant it,” he cuts in. “you’re angry because you know i’m right. you’ve been walking around pretending like she doesn’t mean a thing to you, bottling up every damn thing you feel for her. if it were anyone else, they’d have given up by now.”

mydei looks away. “she’s not anyone else,” he mutters.

phainon smiles. “then tell her.”

mydei stays uncharacteristically silent as phainon steps past with a clap on his shoulder. “you're lucky she’s patient.”

the sour look on your husband’s face whenever phainon’s name comes up is a recent development.

you first noticed it in passing: an almost imperceptible downturn of his lips, a restrained (but still noticeable) eyeroll or the press of his lips into a tight line. at first, you thought nothing of it. but lately… it’s been happening a lot.

right now, you’re seated in the castle’s sunlit tea room with someone you can now call a friend —phainon. the scent of fresh brews curls in the air, warm and comforting, but it does little to soothe the frustration tightening in your chest.

phainon leans back in his seat as you lay your troubles before him. surely, as one of mydei’s closest friends, he could offer some worthwhile advice on how to win the latter’s heart.

because at this rate, if you don’t manage to win him over before your contract runs its course, you wouldn’t be surprised to wake up with his sword cold against the nape of your neck.

“so… what do you think?” you ask, poking at a pastry with your fork.

phainon hums, tilting his head in thought. “he’s a reserved man —you’ve probably figured that out by now. give him some time, he’s the type to take forever to realize what’s right in front of him.”

he shrugs, a smirk tugging at his lips. “though, i do hope milady won’t give up on him just yet.”

you nod, committing his words to memory, but then he suddenly straightens, that familiar glint of mischief lighting his gaze.

“actually,” he muses, glancing down at his hands, now dusted with crumbs and icing, “my hands are a bit of a mess from this cake. mind doing me a favor?”

he lifts his sugar-coated fingers in emphasis.

you eye him suspiciously. “...what kind of favor?”

phainon tilts his head, his smile just sly enough to make you wary. “feed me.”

narrowing your eyes, you scoff at his request, “look, buster—”

“just this once,” he interrupts, grinning. “think of it as repaying me for my advice.”

there’s something almost too innocent about the way he leans in, like he’s well aware of what he’s doing… or rather, what exactly might happen if a certain someone were to walk in.

still, with an exaggerated sigh, you pick up a piece of pastry and lift it towards him—

only for a firm grip to catch your wrist before you can.

just your luck.

mydei smoothly takes the sweet straight from your fingers, his lips brushing against your fingertips in the process; his gaze locked onto yours as he takes a bite.

and before you can pull away —the barest hint of his tongue swipes against the sugar-dusted tips of your fingers, licking away the faint trace of sweetness left behind.

did he just—?

heat rushes to your face. your mouth parts, but no sound comes out.

phainon whistles lowly. “oh yeah i forgot to mention,” he says, far too amused.

“the prince has a sweet tooth.”

for a moment, the only sound in the room is the soft clink of porcelain as phainon sets down his teacup, watching the scene unfold with thinly veiled amusement.

all you can do is stare —frozen, pulse skittering in your throat.

mydei, on the other hand, is utterly unbothered. if anything, he looks as composed as ever, chewing leisurely, as if he didn’t just—

your fingers twitch in his grasp. finally, he releases your wrist, his touch lingering just a second too long before he pulls away.

you snatch your hand back like you’ve been burned, curling your fingers against your palm as if that will erase the phantom heat of his lips, the fleeting press of his tongue.

phainon wonders if he’s about to be thrown out of the castle with the way you and mydei glare at him (for different reasons, respectively)... but judging by his smirk, he finds the risk well worth it.

the annual gladiatorial tournament is only days away, and kremnos is already stirring with anticipation. you’ve heard the chatter in the halls, the wagers placed on champions, the hushed whispers of which warriors will rise and which will fall.

seated on a bench near the training grounds, you let the rhythmic clash of weapons fade into background noise, your focus trained instead on the fabric in your hands. a delicate handkerchief, its edges carefully stitched, the embroidery thread gliding through with each careful motion of your needle.

you had learned from a few noble ladies: it’s tradition for warriors to receive tokens of fortune from their beloveds —most commonly, a handkerchief embroidered with care to carry into battle as a reminder that someone’s waiting for them to return.

before you, the clash of steel rings out as two men spar. you glance up just in time to see phainon nimbly dodge a particularly heavy swing, a grin tugging at his lips. “feeling a little aggressive today, aren’t we?”

mydei doesn’t respond. he simply readjusts his grip on his sword, his expression unreadable.

(if you had to put money on why mydei was more aggressive than usual, you’d wager it had something to do with that stunt phainon pulled a few days ago that had left the former in such a foul mood.)

you return to your stitching, pretending not to notice the way your husband’s eyes flicker toward you between exchanges. unknowingly, a small smile tugs at your lips as you press the needle through the cloth once more.

rumors had circulated for years that prince mydeimos had never once accepted a handkerchief from anyone. not from the ladies who fawned over him at court, not from the admirers who sighed at the sight of his swordsmanship, not even from those with the highest of pedigrees.

it was said that no handkerchief had ever found its way into his hands, let alone remained in his possession. you weren’t sure why; perhaps he found them frivolous, or maybe he had no interest in sentimental keepsakes when he relied on skill alone to survive.

…which didn’t exactly bode well for the one currently in your hands.

so as you carefully stitch your embroidery, you don’t hold out much hope that he’ll accept yours either.

still, it wouldn’t do for the beloved wife of mydeimos to be the only one who hadn’t even offered her husband a handkerchief. whether he accepted it or not was secondary —your duty was to at least play the part expected of you.

as the sparring match winds down, mydei steps off to the side, catching his breath. you discreetly watch as him roll his shoulders, wiping a sheen of sweat from his brow.

you glance back down at your embroidery, but before you can add another stitch, phainon strides up to you, shaking out his arms with an exaggerated sigh. “ow… you saw that, right?” he whines, flopping down beside you with an exaggerated sigh. “he’s being so rough with me today!”

you arch a brow, biting back a laugh as he leans against the edge of the bench. “poor thing,” you say, amused. “what did you do to deserve it?”

phainon grins. “absolutely nothing, milady.”

you shake your head, obviously unconvinced —but then, just like that, his playful pout melts into a coprophagous grin that spells nothing but trouble.

oh no.

“if he wants to be mean,” he muses, tilting his head, “then maybe i should give him a reason for it.”

you frown. “phainon—”

he says, far too casually, “i think i’ve got an idea.”

he leans in slightly, a wolfish grin on his face. “just play along, alright?”

“huh?”

"here, let me show you something." before you can react, phainon takes your hand, pulling you up from your seat with ease. a moment later, a wooden practice sword is tossed into your grasp.

you barely have time to protest before he’s already behind you, his hands resting lightly over yours as he adjusts your grip.

"see?" his voice is low, close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath near your ear. "you hold it like this, and—"

“that’s enough.”

both you and phainon turn to see mydei standing a few feet away. he doesn’t look outwardly furious, but there’s the tension in his shoulders says enough.

phainon merely raises an eyebrow. “oh? something wrong, your highness?”

the air thickens and you can practically feel the sparks flying. sensing the storm that’s about to break, you quickly slip out of phainon’s grasp and rush toward mydei, practically throwing yourself into his arms.

“mydei!” you call, mustering the sweetest voice you can manage, hoping to calm him down (before phainon gets his ass kicked again). “y-you must be exhausted after all that training today… why don’t we head back and get some rest?”

a warm hand brushes against your temple, fingers gently threading through your hair as they tuck it behind your ear.

even though you were the one who threw yourself at mydei, you find yourself frozen, heart hammering at the unexpected tenderness in his touch.

his gaze is so unbearably soft.

after a moment, mydei exhales and nods before leading you away.

you steal a glance back at phainon—who only winks and flashes you a thumbs-up.

(mydei lets out a quiet sigh of relief, watching as you do everything in your power to avoid meeting his eyes. if he had stayed any longer and if phainon had caught sight of the faint flush dusting his cheeks —he’d never hear the end of it.)

ACT V: HOW TO EARN HIS DEVOTION

the sun hangs high above kremnos, casting a golden blaze over the arena as the city wakes to the sound of distant drums and the clang of steel. colorful banners bearing the insignias of noble houses flutter from towering spires, while anticipation clings thick to the air.

all of kremnos knows what day it is. the long-awaited gladiatorial tournament has finally arrived.

from the highest nobles draped in silk to the lowest commoners pressed shoulder-to-shoulder in the stands, all eyes are drawn to the bloodstained sand at the heart of the arena.

the rules are simple, brutal, unforgiving: fight until your opponent yields, or until they can no longer stand. and of course, there's no word for “mercy” in the kremnoan language… as mydei would say it.

the air in the holding chambers, hidden beneath the grand coliseum, is heavy with the scent of iron and sweat. you step inside with your small offering in hand: the handkerchief you embroidered, each stitch woven with thoughts of him.

and today, you see you’re not alone. the corridor is packed with people, mostly noblewomen, some nervous sweethearts, all fluttering around their chosen champions, many bearing the same tradition in their palms.

you catch sight of more than a few stretching their handkerchiefs out to mydei, vying for even a small glance. a small crowd trails him like petals in a storm, calling his name with saccharine lilts, each desperate to be noticed.

with the way he’s being swarmed, you resign yourself with a small sigh, clutching your own handkerchief, fingers curling gently around the cloth you spent the last few evenings stitching.

nevermind. maybe you’ll give it to phainon instead. he always appreciates the gesture, and at the very least, you’d get a smile out of him.

so your eyes scan the crowd instead, searching for—

only to freeze when you look up and see someone else already standing in front of you.

without a word, your husband takes the handkerchief from your hand, presses it to his brow, and dabs away the sweat collecting at his temple; then folds it neatly and tucks it into his belt where everyone can see.

you blink, momentarily startled.

warmth spills into your chest, it’s strange. he never accepts handkerchiefs from anyone. not a single soul has ever earned that privilege. but today, in front of all these people, he’s taken yours without a second thought.

it’s a light gesture, but it says enough coming from the kremnoan prince.

and if he’s going to make such a bold move, you might as well tease him a little.

you tilt your head, a mischievous smile playing at your lips. “that’s sir phainon’s, you know.”

he stills for a moment, a flash of annoyance crossing his face before he furrows his brows in an almost adorable pout.

“then he’ll just have to go without,” he mutters.

you’ve never seen him look quite like this before —caught off guard and... flustered?

“... and i wanted one today.”

“well, since you’ve gone through all that trouble,” you say with a grin, “i suppose i’ll let you keep it.”

as you study him, a thought crosses your mind. you raise an eyebrow, “are you nervous about the tournament?”

his eyes flick to yours, “there is no word for ‘fear’ in the kremnoan language,” he replies, his voice low and confident.

it’s the kind of thing only mydeimos would say. and yet, something about the resolve in his eyes makes your heart skip a beat.

you manage a soft smile. “then bring back the victor’s crown for me, will you?”

honestly it's more of a vow than a request, you’d be content just seeing him return in one piece. but he takes it seriously anyway.

“if it’s for you,”

his expression softens for just a moment, and without missing a beat, he nods, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“i’d do anything.”

ACT VI: HOW TO BE VICTORIOUS

from your seat among the nobles, your gaze searches for him. the threads of your dress pinched between trembling fingers, creased from how often you’ve clutched it.

ever since you’ve come to kremnos, you’ve grown used to the sound of battle, but today every strike echoes a little louder in your ears.

your heart clenches every time mydei stumbles or blood splashes across the sand. even knowing how strong he is, how capable, there’s a twist of worry that doesn’t loosen its grip.

the kind you only feel when the person you care about is the one walking straight into danger.

you’d heard stories of what the tournament demands, but seeing it for yourself… it’s surreal.

the crowd cheers for violence.

warriors enter the arena one by one, facing off not only against each other, but against beasts dragged from the darkest corners of the empire —corrupted titankins, two-headed hounds, massive golems wreathed in flame; just to name a few.

and each time, the gates crash open with a deafening clang, releasing something more vicious than the last. still, he doesn’t falter. when a snarling beast lunges for his throat, he drives his sword deep into its ribs without a second thought.

the nobles cheer and holler around you, drunk on spectacle. but your eyes don’t leave him, not for a moment.

because while the crowd may be here for blood, all you want…

is to be the first thing mydei sees when it’s over.

the last of the other competitors lie in heaps of blood and sand, either devoured by the beasts or incapacitated by the prince. there’s no one left to challenge him except the creature before him.

the towering beast staggers toward him; your pulse spikes, hands gripping the edge of your seat as you hold your breath. every step it takes sends tremors through the arena floor, snarls echoing off stone as it bears down on him with a murderous roar.

the beast lunges, jaws snapping wide, but mydei meets it with unyielding resolve. his sword arcs through the air, a flash of silver against the blood-soaked dusk. the beast jerks, a guttural screech tearing from its throat as it rears back.

for a heartbeat, you can't tell who’s fallen.

then, through the settling haze, you see mydei standing, blood splattered across his armor, chest heaving with exertion. the beast lets out a final screech —and then crumples to the sand in a thunderous collapse.

for a heartbeat, there’s silence. and then the crowd erupts into a deafening cheer.

“mydei!” you cry out, your heart racing as you push through the sea of people to get closer.

he lifts his gaze, and it’s you he finds.

the victor’s crown, gleaming beneath the sun, is placed into his hands. and he raises it high above his head for all to see.

a roar erupts from the coliseum, the crowd surging to its feet as the name mydeimos echoes from every corner, chanted with unrelenting fervor.

and without hesitation, he strides toward you, his face softening as he approaches.

in a flash, he wraps an arm around your waist and hauls you into his arms, lifting you effortlessly off the ground. he spins you in a wide, sweeping circle before drawing you close. his eyes locking with yours, a triumphant grin playing on his lips.

with a tenderness that belies his warrior's demeanor, he leans down and presses a soft kiss to the top of your head.

"yours," mydei whispers. he lifts the victor’s crown in both hands, and with all the devotion of a man offering his heart, places it gently atop your head.

you reach up to his bloodied face, your hand trembling slightly as the warmth of his skin seeps into your fingers. your palm comes to rest against his cheek.

“you came back to me,” you murmur.

he leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut for the briefest moment —like he’s been waiting for this, aching for it.

“i always will.”

you rise onto your toes, closing the distance between you.

at the end of the day, all mydei seeks is not victory or glory, but the soft sound of his name on the lips of his beloved, wrapped in an embrace that makes him forget the harshness of the battlefield.

EPILOGUE: HOW TO WIN HIM OVER

the question that once haunted your thoughts —how could i ever win his heart? —feels like a distant memory now, an answer long since found.

mydei looks at you with a softness in his eyes that you’ve come to know as a rare gift. his hand, calloused from battles fought and won, reaches for yours, his fingers brushing against yours before entwining it.

“by the way, i’m actually… immortal. my injuries heal up after a while.”

you blink at him in confusion, and he chuckles softly, the sound warm and fond.

“wait, then that time when you—” you pause, recalling the night you carefully wrapped up his injury.

he grins, a small, playful glint in his eyes. ”i just like the way you worry over me.”

the admission leaves a flutter in your chest as his thumb gently strokes the back of your hand.

you huff, pretending to be upset, though your heart races at the softness in his words. “you mean to say all that time i was worried sick over you for nothing?”

he tilts his head, feigning innocence. “it wasn’t for no reason,” he says, clearly trying not to smile. “i liked it. still do.”

you narrow your eyes, lips tugging into a pout. “well, you could’ve told me sooner! now i feel ridiculous.”

with a soft chuckle, mydei’s fingers brush through your hair in a gentle, almost apologetic gesture. he ruffles it lightly, his touch surprisingly tender. “you’re adorable when you’re upset,” he murmurs, his voice holding a sweetness that makes your heart skip a beat.

you can’t help but soften, the playful anger fading as his hand lingers for a moment longer. he pulls you a little closer, his forehead gently resting against yours. “don’t be mad. i’ll let you fuss over me for as long as you want, as long as you’re by my side.”

“you better mean that! i’m holding you to it.”

he hums, the sound low and content as he presses a kiss to your temple. “i do,” he whispers. “if there’s one thing i’ll always be sure of, it’s you.”

you think back to every hesitation, every guarded glance, the walls he built high around his heart. and now, that same heart rests in your hands.

“looks like i managed to win you over after all,” you tease softly.

the way he looks at you says more than words ever could —as if you’re the only war he’s ever been glad to lose.

his fingers stay curled around yours; his heart laid bare with the quiet, breathtaking certainty that he is yours, as much as you are his.

"i love you, [name]."

and if this is victory, it’s the sweetest one yet.

thank you for reading!! reblogs are appreciated <3

MASTERLIST

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starmocha · 4 months ago

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but grandma i love him! (and him and him and him and him) [Sylus/Reader, Xavier/Reader, Rafayel/Reader, Caleb/Reader, Zayne/Reader ★ 2808 words ★ Masterlist ★ Series Index ★ AO3] 5 times Grandma Josephine meets your boyfriend + 1 time she meets your boyfriends. Or: AU where everything is the exact same, but Grandma Josephine lives, but wishes she didn’t so she doesn’t have to know how much of a hoe her granddaughter is. A/N: I wrote most of this, days before Sylus’ myth dropped as a way to cope with the impending and inevitable pain (and oh, was there so much pain with his myth…). I suddenly remembered this a month later, so I rushed to finish it before Caleb comes home again. This is very, very silly and full-on crackhead energy :’) Tag list: @miudle @alfredosaws @nezukoo-channn @voidsylus @rose-tinted-kalopsia @valkyyriia @lavlynyan 【 request to be added 】

Josephine had lived a long life, far longer than she would have anticipated for herself. When one lived as long as she had, mistakes were made and regrets inevitable. That was just life.

She knew that, of course, having pocketed many pearls of wisdom as she had navigated this long road, but that still did not make her feel any less foolish for her recent mistake.

It had seemed so innocent. So pedestrian, really.

How could she have realized that asking to meet her granddaughter’s boyfriend would be one of her greatest mistakes and biggest regret of her life?

one.

“Grandma, this is…Skye,” you said with a forced smile as you gestured to your partner.

‘Skye’ stifled his chuckle and extended a hand to the elderly woman. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Josephine,” he said politely with a charming smile, “Your granddaughter talks fondly about you.”

Josephine smiled in delight, never imagining her granddaughter would bring home a very attractive man. It was like she was looking at a work of art created by God Himself. She shook the young man’s hand happily. “Come in, come in, dinner is ready. We can chat as we eat.”

As dinner progressed, the conversation remained lively. This Skye certainly had a way with his words, his charisma was so radiantly brilliant. Josephine had also never seen her granddaughter as happy as she looked now, noticing how the two would often share sweet whispered secrets when they both thought the old woman wasn’t watching.

Oh, youth, Josephine observed with wistful envy.

After dinner, Josephine left her granddaughter alone in the kitchen to do the dishes as she went to her bedroom to retrieve a family photo album to reminisce over. Along the way, she unwittingly walked in on Skye having a private conversation on the phone in the hallway. She was about to turn away before he noticed when she paused, hearing a peculiar comment from Skye:

“Hm, so they had thought I would be there to be ambushed, did they?”

Ambushed? Josephine furrowed her brows in concern.

“Never mind, I trust you and Luke had taken care of things, correct?”

Taken care? Josephine went pale.

“Hm, they should know that Onychinus does not take betrayal so kindly.”

Motherfucking Onychinus?!

Josephine immediately raced back to the kitchen, not noticing ‘Skye’s’ amused smirk.

You were just finishing the last of the dishes when Josephine grabbed you by the shoulders, shaking you immediately and making you nearly dropped the plate you were holding.

“Dear, you have to break up with that man!”

You stared wide-eyed, feeling completely blindsided. “B-but why? I thought you liked Skye, Grandma!”

Josephine looked at you nervously, swallowing slowly before she spoke in a hushed tone, “Dear, I…I just heard him having a conversation…I…I think he’s part of…that notorious group…Onychinus.”

“Oh,” you said flatly.

Josephine stared, confused. “‘Oh’?” she echoed back, flabbergasted. “Dear, I don’t think you understand. Onychinus is a very dangerous group.”

“Uh, yeah, dangerous,” you agreed, tone flat. “Super dangerous…”

Josephine started to get annoyed, not understanding why you were behaving so flippantly about this bombshell news she had just dropped. “Dear, Onychinus is wanted for many crimes. Its leader—”

“Sylus,” you said.

“Right—wait, you know his name?”

“She should.” Josephine heard ‘Skye’s’ deep, smooth voice as he stepped back into the kitchen. “She is dating him.”

Josephine felt like her brain had just short-circuited as she watched this man walked over and leaned down to kiss her granddaughter on the lips.

“Did you even try to be discreet?” You scolded Sylus with a frown after he pulled away.

He chuckled and shook his head. “I saw her from the side,” he admitted, adding, “And I don’t like being kept a secret so…”

“You—mmph!” Sylus immediately kissed you again before you could scold him.

Josephine watched this exchange uncomfortably, feeling like she was having an out-of-body experience as her brain tried to comprehend that her sweet granddaughter, one of the top hunters in Linkon City, was in a relationship with a notorious wanted crime boss.

“I…I need some tea…” she managed after a pause.

“Oh, I’ll make some for you, Grandma!” You pulled away from Sylus immediately, rushing to the cabinet.

At that moment, Sylus’ phone rang. He took a glance at the screen and apologized. “Sorry, I have to take this call.”

Once he was out of the room, Josephine immediately rushed over to you, pulling you to the side. “Dear, do you realize what you are doing?”

“…making tea?”

“Don’t get wise with me, young lady,” she chided you instantly with a strong glare, “You know what I am talking about.”

“…Sylus?”

“Haven’t you thought about how problematic this relationship could be?”

“He does have a strange obsession with crows…”

Josephine looked bewildered. “What does that mean—never mind, I meant that he’s a felon!”

“A little bit, yeah…”

“Dear, is dating a criminal your way of getting back at me for not getting you that pony when you were eight?”

“N-no! Of course not!” You protested. “Besides, Sylus also has this amazing horse, although if I have to be honest, I prefer riding Sylus—”

Josephine had decided that was the perfect moment to black out.

“…motorcycle?! Grandma?!”

two.

Grandma, I have someone I would like you to meet! :)

Josephine felt relief when she had seen that text message her granddaughter had sent. It seemed Sylus was no longer in the picture, she thought, a little worried about any repercussion that could come from splitting with a dangerous crime boss.

As she glanced at the message again, the little smiley face at the end of the sentence calmed the old woman instantly. There was probably nothing to worry about. You seemed pleasant. Cheerful, even.

This was a good sign.

The following Saturday afternoon, Josephine was positively thrilled to meet her granddaughter’s new boyfriend, Xavier. She was immediately charmed by his princely appearance and soft-spoken and polite way of speaking. He truly looked like he had stepped out of a fairy tale.

After introductions were made, you had excused yourself from the group after receiving an urgent phone call from Tara. The other woman was in such an overly anxious state, ranting something about her cat? It took you nearly ten minutes to finally calm your friend before you were able to hang up and return to the group.

Stepping into the living room, you were surprised to see only your grandmother sitting in her chair. You furrowed your brows, feeling a strange knot forming in your stomach. Nervously, you stepped over to your grandmother.

“Wait, where’s Xavier?”

Josephine smiled. “In the kitchen,” she answered, not noticing your face was paling. “He mentioned he wanted to heat up the dish you both brought over in the oven—”

“In the oven?!”

“Yes, the oven—”

The fire alarm blared as dark thick smokes billowed from the kitchen, but thanks to the bravery and promptness of the men and women of Linkon FD, the fire was put out in less than fifteen minutes.

Josephine remained in her chair, face covered in soot, her voice peculiarly neutral. “Dear…”

“Insurance will cover this, don’t worry, and if not, I will buy you a new—”

“I don’t even like tuna casserole.”

“I told you we should have made chicken potpie.”

“Xavier—that’s…that’s not the issue…”

three.

When her granddaughter mentioned bringing an artist over, Josephine had some doubts. She worried about her granddaughter having to support a struggling artist until he could make a name for himself, but even if she did voice her concern, it would most likely have the opposite effect and just make that man seem even more desirable in her granddaughter’s eyes.

It wouldn’t do. She didn’t want to meddle, but she hoped things would just naturally end on its own terms.

Her worries instantly disappeared when her granddaughter sent her a photo of the young couple at an art exhibition. Josephine’s eyes caught the name of the artist as well as the face of the young man with his arm around her granddaughter’s waist in the photo.

Wait.

Rafayel.

This was The Rafayel.

As old as she was, Josephine kept up with the news. She recognized both the name and the face of the artist. She laughed heartily to herself, tickled that her pretty granddaughter managed to catch the eyes of a well-known artist such as Rafayel.

Her worries eased, knowing her granddaughter had just secured her future being entwined with someone as successful as Rafayel. She immediately started planning a wedding. Maybe even a guest nursery in her home for when the happy couple would visit with hopefully numerous great-grandchildren.

From this moment all the way to the next Sunday for brunch, the old woman had an extra pep in her steps. As she exited a taxi, Josephine found herself at a well-known restaurant, popular with brunch for the younger crowd. It was typically packed and hard to get in, but Josephine supposed someone as influential as Rafayel would have no problem securing a table.

“Grandma, over here!” you rushed over to hug your grandmother. After kissing her cheek, you sighed playfully, “You know Rafayel and I offered to pick you up. You didn’t have to take a taxi.”

“Nonsense, an old woman like me is perfectly capable of getting around by herself,” she chided you gently. She patted your hand reassuringly as you both walked arm linked into the restaurant. “This is so exciting, darling. I have been looking forward to meeting Rafayel all week long.”

“Wonderful!” you exclaimed, beaming, “He is really the sweetest, Grandma. You will love him. He gotten us a table outside. It really is beautiful out there.”

Well, Josephine can check off meeting a famous artist on her bucket list.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Josephine,” Rafayel greeted the older woman with a charming smile. “I have heard so much about you from this cutie over here.”

“Ra-Rafayel,” you protested with a blush and then whispered harshly under your breath to him, “N-not in front of Grandma…”

He smiled, shrugging. “Sorry, cutie, force of habit.”

“You did it again…”

Josephine laughed and reassured her blushing granddaughter. “You two really are the cutest thing ever,” she said, smiling in gratitude as Rafayel helped seat the older woman.

The time passed with a lot of pleasantries and sharing stories over a delicious array of food. Smoked salmon, quiche, waffles, fruit salad, and bellinis filled three happy bellies. Just as Josephine was already planning on speed-dialing a wedding planner, she noticed Rafayel’s face did a complete 180.

“Rafayel? Are you alright, dear—”

“M-m-m-monster!”

“Excuse me?” Josephine glared when Rafayel pointed at her.

“N-no, Grandma, it’s not you,” you quickly protested, standing up and rushing to Rafayel when he stumbled out of his seat shaking in fear. “Rafayel, calm down! It’s just a—”

“Meow.”

“Oh!” Josephine laughed when an orange cat leapt onto the table, purring happily at the plate with some leftover smoked salmon. She laughed and started petting its head as the cat greedily licked the plate and ate the remaining morsels. “Where did you come from, little one?”

The cat purred happily amid Rafayel’s screams.

“Rafayel, ca-calm down!” You trailed after Rafayel as he backed away.

“Get that monster away from me!”

“Rafayel! Come back!”

Josephine sighed.

After filling its belly with some delicious salmon, the cat napped in the old woman’s lap, purring contently as its ear was scratched. At that moment, the waiter walked over and placed the bill in front of Josephine to her surprise.

“You have got to be kidding me,” she griped once she realized her granddaughter and Rafayel were both gone.

four.

“Oh, dear, I am so excited to meet this one,” Josephine said, meaning every single word, “The way you described him makes him sound like quite a catch.”

Tall, handsome, intelligent, and with the added bonus of being good in the kitchen! There was no way this one wouldn’t be a perfect match for her sweet, darling granddaughter, who, after all, deserved only the best in life.

You laughed. “Grandma, what are you talking about? You know him.”

Josephine blinked, confused. “…I do?”

“Yeah, it’s—”

“Where’s my favorite pipsqueak?”

You gasped as you felt an arm wrapped around your waist, easily lifting you up. You blushed. “Caleb!”

Josephine laughed. “Caleb, you didn’t tell me you were coming home to visit.”

Caleb looked confused as he settled you back down to the floor, but his arm remained wrapped around your waist. “I thought Pipsqueak mentioned it to you already?”

Josephine frowned. “I don’t believe so,” she said, adding, “But what bad timing, we’re having a guest tonight and—”

She paused, suddenly noticing how Caleb’s arm still remained wrapped around your waist and the way you leaned in close against him. You were all giggly and blushing like a schoolgirl.

“…and…”

“Um, Grandma,” You started feebly, “Caleb is my boyfriend.”

“No, he’s not.”

“Uh, yes, he is.”

“No, he’s not.”

“Grandma—”

“No, he’s not.”

“Caleb!”

“Gran, I—”

“I am taking a nap!” Josephine declared, determined to wake up from this surreal dream she was having.

“Caleb—”

“Shh,” he quietly shushed you. “Gran is taking a nap…”

You glared at him, sighing in defeat as Josephine sat in her chair, blanket over her lap, and she closed her eyes, cursing whatever deity who had decided she needed to deal with this weird-ass situation at her age.

five.

Josephine smiled serenely as she watched you and Zayne make dinner together in your kitchen.

Finally, a good man.

Zayne was always the sweetest little boy, and it pleased Josephine to see he had grown into a kind and caring man with a successful career and highly-respected reputation among his peers. Zayne had effortlessly ticked off every single box in Josephine’s list of criteria for a grandson-in-law: intelligent, kind, patient, respectful, charming, handsome, successful, loving. There was not a single flaw in this young man.

“My love, come taste this,” Zayne called out as he held up a wooden spoon.

Oh, my. Even Josephine couldn’t help but blushed and felt her heart fluttering at witnessing how sweetly affectionate Zayne was with you.

“What do you think?” he asked.

You pondered, licking your lips lightly. You smiled. “Maybe just a little more soy sauce?”

Zayne nodded. “Okay,” he said, “Could you grab the bottle for me then?”

“Of course, Zaddy—”

You froze.

Zayne froze.

Josephine stared.

“Za…Zaddy?” Josephine questioned from across the kitchen island.

“It’s…nothing,” Zayne said, his ears turning red, “Just a silly nickname.”

Josephine nodded, seemingly accepting his weak explanation. “How long until dinner is ready?”

You swallowed nervously and barely managed to rasp out: “An hour…maybe?”

“I’ll just take a quick nap if you two don’t mind—oh, don’t trouble yourself, dear.”

“Okay, Grandma, you can nap on my bed…” You said feebly, a little perplexed by how…calm she seemed.

Josephine nodded again and walked to your bedroom. She sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled out her phone, searching up ‘Zaddy’ online.

She wished she hadn’t.

+ one.

This was a dream.

A motherfucking dream.

And not even a good one.

Josephine stared at all of the tall, handsome men—and Caleb—towering behind her granddaughter.

“…Dear, I thought you were dating Zayne.” She glanced at the young doctor who looked away in embarrassment.

“I am,” you answered nonchalantly, confused by your grandmother’s behavior.

“…Didn’t you break up with these other young men—and Caleb?”

Caleb blinked.

“No,” you said slowly, “I didn’t want to bombard you with all of them at once, so…I staggered their introductions.”

“You’re…dating…five men…at the same time?”

“Grandma, you are acting like I am banging them all at the same time!”

“Dear, I am sorry, it’s just—”

“We’ve only done it once.”

“…Excuse me?”

“It’s actually harder to coordinate an orgy with everyone’s busy schedule,” you explained thoughtfully, not noticing Josephine’s horrified expression. You continued flippantly, “Zayne has so many surgeries lined up for the next three months. Then Rafayel has an upcoming art show he needs to prepare for, and Sylus—”

Josephine walked away in the middle of the conversation, heading to her bedroom, leaving you flabbergasted.

You looked behind you at your five boyfriends and they all shrugged and scratched their heads, just as lost as you were. Worried, you followed after her. “Grandma? Is something the matter—"

You panicked and shrieked.

“Zayne, Caleb! Grandma is smoking and drinking!”

Josephine mentally sighed as she sat in her bed, leaning back against some propped up pillows as she stared at the ceiling with a bottle of brandy resting on her chest.

Surely, dying in an explosion would be better than this fuckery, right?

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #love and deepspace xavier #love and deepspace rafayel #love and deepspace caleb #love and deepspace zayne #love and deepspace x reader #sylus x reader #xavier x reader #rafayel x reader #caleb x reader #zayne x reader #love and deepspace fanfiction #lnds fanfics #x — fanfics #i apologize for nothing #wish i could have 5 hot boyfriends at the same time #god when is it my turn

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angelic--kitty · 5 months ago

Text

𝖈𝖆𝖚𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖎𝖓 𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖜𝖊𝖇

𝖋𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖉𝖗𝖎𝖉𝖊𝖗!𝖆𝖗𝖑𝖊𝖈𝖈𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖔

warnings: smut (mdni), wlw content, fem!reader x transfem!drider arlecchino, dark content, stalking, breeding, oviposition, fingering, you're her human pet ♡, collars, arachnophobia, size kink, tummy bulge, nipple play, arle uses her webs to tie you up

a/n: kinksgiving yippee lmao

𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖙 𝖋𝖎𝖛𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝖐𝖎𝖙𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖐𝖙𝖔𝖇𝖊𝖗

she watches you curiously, tied up so prettily in her webs while you squirm around in a futile fashion. your eyes are so wide, desperate, frightened as you struggle, oblivious to the creature watching you.

she creeps forward through the shadows, easily maneuvering through her own webs as she steps just hard enough for you to feel the vibrations and freeze up.

she'd been watching you for quite some time in that little cottage you lived in at the edge of her woods. she planned this perfectly, setting out bait of berries and herbs she knew would draw you in, only to trap you in her sticky web.

it was almost adorable how easily you fell for it. clearly you needed her to keep you safe. little more than a sweet pet, too curious for your own good.

as she revealed herself to you, your eyes almost brightened, and she wondered if you knew she was watching you. perhaps you actually had been hoping she would snatch you up. from how your breath turned shaky, your struggling ceased, she realized you were intrigued.

how... sweet. yet so foolish.

she helped you out of the silky strands, instead cradling your smaller frame to her body, carrying you back to her den. you were so pliant, she already knew you'd make a wonderful mate, and, perhaps, an excellent mother.

you had such a pretty body, such a sweet little look in your eyes when you'd kneel for her, dressed in nothing more than a collar she made for you.

clothes? you didn't need those anymore, right? she kept you warm, ensuring you stuck close to her side, enjoying her body heat while she enjoyed your soft form pressed against her.

and, oh, you were just as soft on the inside as you were on the outside. even better were the sounds you produced when her fingers slid into your sweet little cunt. she learned your anatomy rather quickly, easing the prettiest sounds from your lips as she crooked her fingers into your sweet spot.

"there, there," she hummed, pulling yet another orgasm from you as you shook against her body, feeling her limbs wrapping around you.

"c-can't-" you whine for her, despite your hips still humping against her hand. "too much-"

"hush, human." she merely mumbles, holding you tighter, rubbing her palm into your clit as you squirm. "i must have you ready for me."

your head was fuzzy, but you had enough sense to listen. "ready for...what?"

she pushed her body up against you, letting you feel the hardness pressed up against your back.

oh.

the squeak she received had her twitching, fingers pumping in and out faster. "it's my mating season, pet. we've talked about this previously, yes?"

you dumbly nod, remembering how she'd given you a long lecture on taking and laying her eggs. though, at the time, you zoned out, merely picturing her inside of you.

"good." she praises you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as she slowly pulls her fingers out, savoring the slick you leaked onto them. she picks you up easily, moving you to face her, your pussy hovering over her cock.

it was pretty, but thick, making you whimper when the tip brushed your hole. you squeezed around nothing and she sighs, rubbing herself across your slick entrance. "you must relax, human."

"you're... too big." you admit softly, your voice both nervous and needy. and it has its intended effect, softening the seldom sweet woman as she leans in, pressing her chin atop your head.

"you can take it, i can assure you of that." she pushes the tip into you, hearing you softly moan, grabbing onto her biceps the further she slides in.

she's thick, stretching you out but filling you with a pleasant warmth that makes you feel even fuzzier as you pant, head falling forward and onto her shoulder. "ah-" you squeak, back arched as she pauses, letting you grow accustomed to half her length. "full..."

she nearly purrs, breasts brushing your own as she feels your perked nipples. "there is still more to take." she tells you, but she pauses at your soft noise of confusion. "i...suppose that can wait if you're not ready. there is always next time, hm?"

you nod eagerly, hips shifting on the half of her fitted inside you, already feeling a little bulge in your lower tummy. one of her limbs slides to tease your clit and press on the bulge, earning a cute little yelp from you.

she eases you up and down her cock, little more than a toy for her as she eases just a bit more of her length into you with every thrust. she grunts, feeling you squeezing around her, your slick dripping down her cock and giving the dark flesh the prettiest creamy ring.

just looking at it has her twitching in you, needing to cum inside of you to watch it drip out all the same.

she begins to give you the same lecture on her eggs, though from the way your eyes have gone glassy and the way you begin to beg for her cum, she figures it's lost on you.

her thumb slides to your clit, rubbing little circles until you cum around her like the good pet you are, giving her the perfect opportunity to fuck you deeper, pushing her eggs into you as your face scrunched up, hands gripping onto her while your nails leave indents into her skin.

she groans, clearly pent up from how thick her cum is inside of you, already dripping out of you as your back arches up, nipples at the perfect height for her tongue to flick out and tease them until they're swollen.

she keeps you on her cock, plugging you up and admiring the image of her eggs in your stomach. her hand brushes over them, picturing the perfect family you'll both have so soon... and how she can't wait to do it over and over again just to see you completely fucked out.

her beautiful little pet.

she kisses your forehead, climbing back into her web, keeping you snuggled against her body, plugged up nicely while you fall asleep, pleased and comfortable together.

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tender-rosiey · 6 months ago

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Hii, can I request a fic where sukuna is trying to court the reader but she's still scared of him and doesn't realize what he's trying to do?🫶🏾

tethered — ryomen sukuna x f!reader

a/n: i could not let reader be trampled on; am sorry :( i mean you can tell she is scared but she aint gon take crap from him ALSO if you guys saw that I used this sukuna panel before, pls tell me tyyy

the room feels far too small with him in it, despite its towering ceilings and wide stone floors. his presence suffocates every inch of space, like the weight of a storm pressing down on you, demanding attention.

your hands tremble slightly as you pour tea into the lacquered cup, but you force them to steady. you’ve been doing this long enough to know better than to show fear, even if your pulse hammers in your throat.

the weight of sukuna’s gaze is heavy, as always, but you keep your eyes trained on the task, pretending not to notice the way he watches your every move, like a predator biding its time.

you place the tea in front of him, bowing respectfully.

yet the air between you shifts—his presence thick with something unfamiliar. you glance up, wary, only to find his eyes, crimson and sharp, still locked onto you.

that smile—the one that sends chills racing down your spine—curves his lips.

“you’re trembling again,” he says, his voice low, dark amusement coloring every word.

you grit your teeth, forcing yourself to breathe slowly, evenly.

“it’s cold, my lord,” you respond, as calmly as you can manage, though the lie feels feeble. everyone knows that with sukuna in the room, it’s never the cold you have to fear.

he leans forward slightly, one of his lower arms lazily resting on the table, the other two still folded across his broad chest. “is that so?” his voice is smooth, but there’s an edge to it that unsettles you more than his usual biting remarks.

you’ve heard the whispers, the rumors—how he’s been different lately, his focus shifted. and it’s not hard to guess where that focus lies.

you’ve felt the shift, too. the extra care given to your meals, the finery left in your chambers, and the subtle way he’s been keeping you close. too close.

you glance at him from the corner of your eye, nerves flaring. “I don’t mean to waste your time, my lord. if there’s nothing else, I should return to my duties.”

his chuckle fills the room, rich and deep, as though you’ve just said something absurdly amusing. “so eager to leave?” he asks, his voice low. “I’ve been generous, haven’t I?”

there’s something different in his tone now, something dangerous. your stomach knots as his gaze sharpens, studying you with unnerving intensity.

“my lord, I—” you stop yourself, choosing your words carefully. the last thing you want is to provoke him. “you’ve been more than kind. but I am still just a servant. I don’t require such attention.”

his smile widens, showing more of his sharp teeth, the predatory glint in his eyes growing darker. one of his upper hands moves, reaching out to tilt your chin upward, forcing you to meet his gaze head-on.

“just a servant?” he repeats, voice dripping with mockery. “you really think I would waste my time on someone who means nothing?”

you swallow hard, refusing to flinch under his touch. his hand is surprisingly gentle, but the power behind it is unmistakable. you force yourself to meet his eyes, despite every instinct screaming at you to look away.

“I—I…think I don’t know why you would waste your time on someone who isn’t afraid to speak her mind.”

his eyes flash with something dark and unreadable, but it isn’t anger. it’s interest. you can see the amusement flickering beneath the surface, and it sends another chill down your spine.

“you think you’re brave?” he muses, his voice lowering to a dark whisper. “or perhaps foolish?”

your breath hitches, his words unsettling. “I don’t think it’s foolish to speak honestly,” you reply, voice steadier than you feel. “especially when I’ve done nothing to earn the attention of someone like you.”

sukuna leans forward again, all four arms now resting on the arms of his throne as he stares you down. the air feels heavier, charged with something dangerous and electric.

his voice drops low, smooth as silk but with a dark edge. “you’ve earned it by surviving in my presence this long. by not running when you had the chance. that interests me.”

your heart races, the closeness unnerving, but you refuse to back down. “I’m here because it’s my duty,” you manage, your voice sharp and defiant. “not because I seek your favor or your… gifts.”

sukuna laughs then, the sound deep and rumbling, like distant thunder.

“ah, so you do notice my gifts. modest as they are.” he leans in closer, one of his lower hands brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “tell me, little servant, if it’s not favor you seek, what do you want?”

your stomach flips, the closeness sending a wave of heat through your cheeks, but you stand firm.

“I want to be left alone,” you reply bluntly, trying not to flinch under his gaze. “I want to do my duties without feeling like prey every time I enter the room.”

his eyes narrow slightly, a dangerous glint flashing in them, but there’s something else too. amusement. curiosity. he’s not angry—if anything, he seems more intrigued than before.

“you think you’re prey?” he muses, his voice lowering to a dark whisper. “perhaps you are. or perhaps, you’ve already caught the ‘predator’s’ attention in ways you don’t yet understand.”

his words sending a chill down your spine, but you stand firm. “If I have, it’s not by choice, sukuna-sama.”

his smile softens, just a fraction, but it’s no less menacing. he rises from his seat, towering over you as he closes the distance between you in a heartbeat.

his four hands move with calculated grace, two of them resting on either side of your face, trapping you in place as he looms over you.

“choice is an illusion for you humans,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. “but you’ll come to understand that in time.”

despite the trembling in your limbs, you lift your chin, meeting his gaze with a newfound defiance. “I’m not afraid of you.”

he smirks, his eyes gleaming with approval at your boldness. “good. fear is boring.”

then, in a startlingly unexpected move, he leans down, brushing his lips against your forehead—an act of tenderness that catches you completely off guard.

the warmth of his breath lingers, and the moment stretches between you, almost surreal.

“besides,” he continues, voice low and surprisingly gentle, “I find your spirit rather… enticing.”

your heart races, confusion mingling with the fear that had gripped you moments before.

this man, this powerful being, was something else entirely, and as you step back, you can’t shake the strange warmth that blooms in your chest.

with that, he releases you, stepping back and letting the tension between you linger like smoke in the air.

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do not copy or plagiarize

check out my buy me a coffee!

#sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen x reader #ryomen x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #sukuna ryomen x you #sukuna ryomen x reader #jjk imagines #jjk sukuna x reader

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witchywcmans · 10 months ago

Text

FORBIDDEN FRUIT. | LAIOS TOUDEN

synopsis ━━ laios can't seem to get enough after he first tastes you. but the lines in your friendship are beginning to blur. it's only when your party happens upon your ex-lover in the dungeon that laios realizes what he should've communicated all along. (laios x f!reader.)

content warnings ━━ cunnilingus, praise, size kink, jealousy, classic missionary, unprotected sex, creampie, mutual pining/confession, laios and reader are not good with communication (but they work it out v well), laios is self concious but reader is so kind to him !!, monster facts as dirty talk. nsfw (minors + ageless blogs dni).

word count ━━ 4.8k

song inspiration ━━ awkward, sza / cherry, lana del rey / hunger, florence + the machine

author's note ━━ TECHNICALLY, this could be a part 2 to please, eat, so I'm just going to link as a part 2. you don't have to read please, eat before this, but if you like laios then obvi you should read it anyway!! I'm SO SORRY it took me so long to post another laios x reader 😭 I was trying to finish the manga before I wrote something else dungeon meshi-related, but life gets the way. oh well. also, this might be controversial, but in this fic I’m refuting the “laios is a virgin” allegations. SUE ME. I simply don’t believe he’s been adventuring so long and hasn’t been with anyone, that is crazzzy to me !! but that's just me 🤗 we all have our fave headcanons! my goal when I finish the manga is to write something for laios at the end of the story hehe. I hope you guys enjoy part 2! this one-shot is dedicated to @satoogojos 🫶

🪽 part i: PLEASE, EAT. / part ii: FORBIDDEN FRUIT. / part iii: TOO SWEET.

Catching feelings for your friend was truly a fickle thing. But you guessed it was bound to happen with what you and Laios were doing behind everyone’s back. Each night, after your party tucked themselves in their bedrolls, Laios would so delicately lace your arm through his and you two would find a private area … before he completely buried his face between your thighs.

He was fixated on the way you tasted, the way he could get you to cum so easily on his tongue. You were the only dessert he wanted after every dinner. Some nights, he would have you writhing from overstimulation, but he just wanted more of you – so much more.

It was a little confusing, though, how he didn’t ask for anything in return. Laios seemed to grind against the cold, dungeon floor as his tongue lapped at your essence, sometimes cumming in his pants and moaning between your legs. Or he would politely excuse himself after he was done, taking care of himself as you cleaned yourself up. You didn’t quite understand it, and maybe neither did he. You both were just too awkward to broach the subject.

The incident with the sea serpent had changed your friendship forever. Not only did Laios save you from becoming one, but the intimacy you both now shared seemed to open you up more. You found yourself divulging more secrets to him, leaning on him when you needed someone, even being more impartial to Senshi’s monster meals. And you liked the way he smiled, how he looked at you. You liked how fearless he was. You liked how protective he was over the party, especially you. You … really liked him. Far more than a crush. In fact, you wished you could go back in time and just have a crush. But your feelings for him became deeper as you crept lower and lower into the dungeon together. Your goal was still to come out of this dungeon alive, but now … you hoped that you would make it out alive together.

What a foolish girl you had become.

You tried to remain focused on the path ahead of you, but you were clearly lost in thought today. The party had reached floor 6, which meant you were closer and closer to the deepest part of the dungeon and hopefully rescuing Laios’ sister, Falin. The last thing you expected to see on floor 6 were other adventurers, let alone your ex.

You were hesitant to call him an ex, since you two had never really been anything but a warm body in each other’s beds while living on the surface. But when your bodies collided and your eyes met his, you realized why you had taken a liking to him in the first place. He had been a butcher’s son, handy with an axe, and you had liked his big, strong hands. You almost fell right into him from the slippery dungeon floor, but those strong hands seemed to catch you like you were made of air. “It’s you,” he chuckled, setting you up straight and tucking a stray hair behind your ear. “Look at you … feels like it was just yesterday when we were on the surface, huh?”

Marcille looked like she didn’t want anything to do with your ex and his party, but Senshi was very kind to offer them food, if they needed it. Chilchuck seemed neutral, and Laios … you still couldn’t read Laios as easily as the rest of the party. He watched your ex like a hawk, standing behind you as if to protect you. Your ex’s hands were big, sure, but Laios was tall, his shoulders wide and intimidating even without the armor. Laios narrowed his eyes slightly whenever he saw your ex’s gaze roam over you, like he was undressing you with his eyes. And you weren’t sure if you caught it – it only lasted a second – but did Laios clench his hands into fists?

There wasn’t enough time in the world to dwell on it. Especially when you had ghosts seemingly pulling you into another area of the dungeon and waking up on a dirt path, a beautiful golden castle mounted ahead of you. Your party was initially confused, walking into the village and seeing monsters living harmoniously with humans. After becoming acquainted with the village, you and your friends were offered a warm, delicious meal with Yaad, the lord of the Golden Country. After Yaad explained the history of this village, you all were each given rooms to rest in for the night. The beds were small and cold, but far better than a bedroll.

You were used to Laios initiating with you every night, but by the time everyone went to sleep, he still didn’t call upon you. So you stood from your bed, adjusting the nightgown given to you, and walked across the hall to where Laios’ room was. You knocked on his door, and you heard the slip of a sword into a sheath behind the thin wood. He had been inspecting Kensuke for some reason, probably mulling over Yaad’s words. When he opened the door, he was dressed in loose pants and a linen shirt, droplets running down his neck. He must’ve just bathed. You couldn’t stop yourself from digging your nails into your palm.

“Can I come in?” You asked in a hushed voice, and he moved out of the way for you to step inside.

His room looked exactly like yours, but the sheets were ruffled from lack of sleep. Laios walked around you and sat on the edge of the bed, leaving you more confused than ever. You played with your hands as you stared at him, contemplating. “Is something wrong, Laios?” You inquired, stepping closer to him. “You’ve been acting weird even before we got here.”

His brow furrowed for a moment. “How do you figure?”

“Well, you …” Your tongue clicked. “You didn’t come to find me after everyone went to bed.”

He seemed to concede, shoulders dipping at your answer. Shifting on the mattress, he propped himself up against his pillows and moved Kensuke to lean against the wall. His silence was even more perplexing. This had to be the longest time Laios went without talking. He was a blabbermouth.

“I don’t understand,” you continued, walking over and sitting on the end of his bed. “Are you … are you angry with me?”

“No, no,” Laios was quick to reply, “I’m not angry with you. I’m just …”

You raised a brow, eager to hear his answer.

“That man you recognized. On floor 6,” he finally said, his fists clenching again at the memory. “I didn’t … I didn’t like the way he looked at you. And his tone. It was disrespectful to you. Unless I’m reading this all wrong.”

You were taken aback by his honesty. So he had been bothered by your ex. “Oh,” you replied, “well … me and him, we do have history, Laios. But it’s in the past.”

“I could tell.” He was picking at his nails now, any excuse not to meet your eyes. “Everyone has a life before the dungeon. It’s not about the past. I just … I didn’t like him. Or how he looked at you like … like he still wanted you. Or something.”

“Or something,” you repeated, nodding your head. A slow smile crept onto your lips at the realization. “Laios, are you jealous?”

His head jolted up, his eyes glued to his hands, searching for something unknown. Realization washed over his face, as if he hadn’t even considered this possibility. “Oh, gods,” he pinched the bridge of his nose. “This whole day I’ve been trying to reconcile with what I’m feeling and I knew I wasn’t mad at you – maybe just mad at the circumstances – and none of it made sense, but now …” He finally met your eyes, a chuckle slipping past his lips. “I was just jealous. How did I not realize?”

“Maybe because we didn’t talk about it,” you offered in a low voice, reaching out and lacing your fingers with his. A jolt of electricity ran through your fingertips and all the way up your arm. You wished you could hide your reaction, but it was clear as day, making Laios shift in his spot. “Laios, we should talk –”

“You’re not leaving the party, are you?” His grip on your fingers went tight, and he didn’t even realize it.

“No,” you laughed, scooting closer and running your free hand over his face. His cheeks flushed instantly when you touched him. “I think … we should talk about what’s happening between us.”

Laios’ gaze went narrow as he processed your words. “Oh,” he said blankly, and then his eyes went wide. “Oh.”

“I just … because we’ve been doing this every night … it’s hard not to feel …” You sighed, unable to get the words right. But he seemed to understand, quick-witted as ever, squeezing your hand in encouragement. And then he smiled at you, all dopey and kind, and your heart began to pound. “I can’t help but think that the lines are being blurred between us. My feelings for you are … much deeper than what they were initially. And if you don’t feel the same way, that’s okay. I needed you to know. I’m sorry if this hurts … whatever our relationship is.”

He was still smiling, his other hand gripping your waist, pulling you even closer. “Well, I think –”

“And now I can’t help but wonder if maybe – just maybe – you feel the same way,” you started rambling, terrified to know how he was going to reply. “Because why would you feel jealous if you didn’t … I shouldn’t make assumptions. But I still wondered. And I can’t stop talking. Again, I don’t want this to ruin anything and I’m sorry if it does. My ex doesn’t mean anything to me anymore and he won’t ever again –”

Out of nowhere, Laios used his upper body strength to flip you onto your back, pinning you to the bed. Now your cheeks were flushed, completely caught off guard by the action. He sat in between your legs, his fingers just brushing over your waist, as he said, “I do. Feel the same. I feel like I’m the one who could’ve ruined this because I didn’t realize it sooner.”

You gave him a sad smile, reaching up to cup his chin. “You couldn’t ruin anything.”

He leaned into your palm when your hand moved to his cheek, humming under his breath. He then leaned down, his body just barely pressing against yours, as if he craved your body heat. Like a moth to a flame.

“Can we not talk about your ex ever again?” He muttered, his hands running up and down your sides. “Because when I saw him today, all I could think about was …” He stopped himself abruptly.

“What?” Your curiosity peaked.

“I’m going to sound like a jealous brute,” he sighed dramatically, nose brushing against yours as his hands moved higher, thumbs grazing over the underside of your breasts. The material of your nightgown was so thin that your peaked nipples were already visible. “I just … couldn’t stop thinking about all the times I’ve tasted you that he hasn’t. I wondered if he knew exactly how you liked it, which places made those funny sounds come out of your mouth. And then, I couldn’t stop thinking about it, and all I wanted this whole day was to get you alone.”

You shuddered when his thumb brushed over one of your taut nipples, making your heel run down the back of his leg. His words alone made tingles run down your spine, but the second his hands were on you, you were properly soaked. The both of you lay there for a moment: him on top of you, nuzzling your nose, rolling his fingers over your nipples through your nightgown, eliciting breath hitches from your lips.

It was so slow, so patient, so good, but had you wanting more. And you couldn’t stop the words coming out when you blurted, “I want to have sex.”

He paused, opening his eyes for a moment, making sure he heard you properly.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” you said quickly, feeling awkward. But why were you so shy all of a sudden? It’s not like he didn’t have his tongue deep inside your pussy every night. Maybe it was because there was a question still lying underneath the surface. “Why ... why don’t you want me to help you finish after you eat me out? Sometimes you just … walk away to take care of yourself.”

Laios’ face went bright red, and then he buried his face in your neck. “I’m so embarrassed.”

Your hand pushed back his cropped, blonde hair, trying to soothe his racing heart. “Why are you embarrassed?”

“Because it’s … it’s big,” he sighed and lifted his head. “There. I said it. It’s just big. And the last person who saw it made me feel super self-conscious about it.”

You couldn’t help but snort. “You’re embarrassed because you have a big dick?”

His pretty golden eyes were serious, but it looked like he wanted to laugh with you. “Please, don’t make it sound trivial.”

“It’s not trivial, it’s just …” You went to cup both his cheeks. The way he looked at you was unlike anything you ever experienced. You wondered why it took you so long to realize he felt the same. “I would never make you feel self-conscious about anything. I like everything about you, Laios.”

Your words had him melting, leaning back down into you and kissing you slowly. It was only when his tongue slipped into your mouth that his hand snaked down between your legs, just cupping your soaked entrance, the one thing he loved to eat more cheesecake. Realizing that you weren’t wearing any underwear had him reeling. “Gods …” He moaned into the kiss, his fingers simply running down your soaked folds.

As his lips broke away from yours, you asked in a tone as sweet as barometz, “Do you want to have sex, Laios?”

“Yes,” he replied, voice desperate. “Yes, please.”

Your hands went to the hem of his loose, linen shirt, breaking your kiss again to lift it over his head. For the first time, you were able to see what he looked like underneath all the armor. His shoulders were wide-set, his torso soft while also being oddly defined. Most tall-men your party encountered thought Laios was on the slender side, not believing how strong he was. But once your eyes beheld his biceps, you knew how wrong they all were. He was built and muscular and – gods, you could admire him for hours.

Laios stopped your hands from going any further, a pleading look in his eyes. He pushed your nightgown up and bunched it at the waist. “Can I taste you first?”

You nodded quickly, already intoxicated by the way he kissed you, the way he smiled at you, all eager and excited to bury his face in your pussy. It didn’t take him long; he was lightning fast, moving down your body and lifting your legs on his shoulders so he could eat you out easier. His tongue dove into your folds immediately, and he groaned at the first taste. You were acutely more aware every night that he could do this for hours, just lapping at you lazily, bringing you to orgasm over and over again. No monster compared to the way you tasted.

His nose bumped your clit as he tongued your leaking hole, practically whimpering at every drop of your wetness that reached his mouth. Large, calloused hands wrapped around your thighs, making sure they didn’t close and digging into your flesh. Your own hands fisted into the sheets, your ass lifted off the bed, but you could still grind your hips against his face. Soft whines left your lips, nothing compared to the groans Laios was making as he ate you like he didn’t have a three-course meal just an hour ago. You almost wondered if you should tell him to quiet down, afraid of the others hearing, but you were too lost in the pleasure to care.

It was clear to you the closer you got to reaching your peak that Laios wasn’t keen on stopping. And as much as you truly wanted to cum all over his tongue, you thought it was important that you both have this new experience together. It took you a few seconds to finally gather the courage to say something, his tongue feeling too good as he swirled it around your sensitive clit. “Laios,” you called, and then a little louder, “Laios.”

He lifted his head, your juices dripping down his chin. A primal urge made him want to dive back into you, but he controlled himself. His tongue licked at your essence around his mouth, and you shuddered at the sight.

“I want you inside me,” you whispered. “Is that okay?”

“Yes, yes,” he muttered hoarsely, placing your legs so delicately back on the bed, as if they were made of glass. “Of course.” He so desperately wanted to taste you again, but he was even more excited for this, to finally feel something other than his hand wrapped around his cock. You were the first person he ever tasted, but it had been quite a while since he was truly intimate with someone, to slide into someone and feel them clench around him.

As you tugged off your nightgown, Laios began to work at the ties of his pants. But his hands stopped as they came undone, glancing up at you with hesitation. You looked so pretty sitting in the middle of his bed, waiting for him, naked and vulnerable. He felt silly for feeling so self-conscious, especially when you were so beautiful like this.

“Laios,” you cooed, caressing his arm, “there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. And if you don’t want to, then we can stop.”

He almost choked on a laugh. “Trust me,” he replied, “I want to.”

After another beat of stalling, Laios finally stepped out of his bottoms and blushed pink from ear to ear. His cock was … well, it certainly was big. You sympathized with him; if anyone told you something about your body during sex, you would focus on that forever. But there was nothing for him to be embarrassed about. Truthfully, most males would kill to have what he did. His cock was thick and long, a few veins trailing down the shaft, curving up at his pretty red tip that was dripping with precum. You got even more wet just from staring at it, wondering what he would finally feel like inside of you.

Your mouth opened to say something, anything to make him feel better, but he was already talking: “I need a distraction so I don’t think about you staring at it.” He crawled back onto the bed and between your thighs, immediately pressing his lips to yours. You could taste yourself still on his mouth, and your arms wound around his shoulders instantly. His teeth tugged at your bottom lip, and he asked, “Can I just … ramble about monster facts for a minute?”

You blinked, not expecting that. Laios released your lower lip and sighed, clearly still nervous. “It’ll help me get over this feeling. I swear. Or if you want to stop this, we can. I’ll … I’ll understand –”

“Laios,” you huffed, your mouth pulling back into a sweet smile, “I want you to do whatever makes you feel comfortable.”

“Oh, thank the gods,” he muttered, nuzzling his face back into your neck, placing sloppy kisses. “Did you know that … that harpies almost exclusively have the head of a female human and it is unknown if male harpies exist?”

His voice was muffled against your neck, but you could tell he was desperate and aching. You felt his hard length against your stomach, smearing precum on the exposed skin. “Really?” You breathed out, trying to engage with him but completely failing when he licked a stripe up your neck. A moan escaped your lips.

“There’s also … there’s, uh …” He was struggling to talk now, grasping his cock and giving it a few quick pumps before teasing the head against your dripping wet folds. Your legs instinctively opened wider for him, hoping to whatever gods were out there that you could take his cock. “There also exists a seabird variant of harpies called … called, Sirens. Their wings and … their – their tail look like a seagull’s.”

You could hardly breathe as you asked, “What else, Laios?”

He began to push inside you slowly, letting you adjust with each inch. “Okay, okay … uh … bicorns … bicorns hate – oh, fuck.” Just the feeling of your tight warmth wrapped around his cock had him biting into your shoulder, like you were the forbidden fruit. He could hardly string together a word, could hardly think, as he sank deeper and deeper into you, his whole body shaking. “Bicorns hate … hate virtue. They prefer – shit – immorality. It is believed that … doing all seven deadly sins will … will allow an individual to approach a bicorn – fuck. Fuck. It feels –”

When he was finally buried to the hilt, all he could do was breathe into your neck. You whined, locking your legs around his waist. The stretch was unbelievable; your walls gripped him like a vice. But it was even better than you could’ve imagined. If you had thought originally that the night would go this way, you would’ve at least brushed your hair. Laios didn’t care though, inhaling the flowery scent as he nosed your pretty strands. You couldn’t even comprehend – whether it be from the stretch of his thick cock inside you or the overwhelming amount of butterflies in your stomach – how you were so lucky to have found him.

Not to mention, you felt even luckier that this wasn’t happening on a cold dungeon floor.

With one hand carding into his hair, you chuckled under your breath, “Had enough of reciting monster facts?”

“Mmhmm …” He groaned, unable to form a sentence. You finally felt him pull back before pushing into you in one fast, deep thrust, making you shiver. Your body was hardly used to feeling this full, but you wanted him so badly that it was humiliating, a pink blush tinting your nose. “You feel so good,” he muttered.

You pulled on his hair, and his head lifted from your neck. His lips were swollen from kissing you. Yours probably looked the same. But that didn’t matter right now as he held your gaze and began thrusting into you a little faster. His eyes were the color of melted gold, flecked with amber and brown, and you felt like you could stare into them forever while he fucked you. Laios lifted one of your legs higher on his waist, but his other hand stayed around your middle, keeping you nestled against him.

“Laios,” you whimpered, feeling him nudge your clit with each roll of his hips. Despite his desperation, his pace was tender and relaxed, making sure you were adjusting to his size. He knew he was big – clearly, it was something he’d been self-conscious about for a while – but the way you were looking at him right now … he’d never felt more at ease, more special. This was all he ever wanted: to be close to someone like this, to find intimacy with someone he had true feelings for. All the other times had been stepping stones, leading to this moment with you, where your warmth enveloped him so nicely and your gaze made him want to cum on the spot.

His hips began to move a little faster, pushing even deeper inside you, as his mouth swallowed your moans in a hungry kiss. Face going hot, you trembled, and his cock pulsed inside you with each pass. Your nails dragged down his shoulder blades, leaving marks for him to examine later, like a predator with its prey. Goosebumps raised on his skin, feeling himself get closer … and closer … and closer. If you kept digging your nails into him like that, he’d surely lose his grasp on reality. But you just felt so good, so warm, and he craved you. Craved you like you were his last meal.

“Laios,” you croaked out when his lips broke from yours, “Laios, are you close?”

He could hardly say anything else but, “Mm …”

You thought you could get there by now from his tongue teasing you earlier, but you needed a little more friction. Bumping against your clit wasn’t enough. “Okay, okay,” you rambled, reaching down between your legs to touch yourself. “Just hold off for another minute. I’ll get there.”

Laios opened his eyes, realizing what you were doing, immediately envious of your own hand. “No, let me,” he murmured, voice like honey, and found your clit easily. “Then I can taste you on my fingers after.” His excitement made you laugh, which brought a smile to his own lips.

He shifted a little, pulling back so only his tip rested inside you, and fucked back into you at a different angle, one that brushed against your special spot. The stimulation of both your clit and g-spot had your back arching, whimpers slipping out of your lips like a chant.

“Is … this … better?” He asked, panting after each word.

Your voice was strained when you answered, “Y—Yes.”

His balls slapped against the underside of your ass, and he knew how close he was, but all he cared about at this moment was cumming together. He needed to see that look on your face when you reached your peak. He only got to see it a few times, when he lifted his eyes while tasting you, watching the way your lips parted and sweat ran down your forehead.

His fingers rubbed tight circles on your aching clit – knowing exactly what you liked – and you were close. So, so close already. Laios had a way of touching you that felt inquisitive, yet effortless. Like he wanted to learn which spots made you moan the loudest, while also already knowing without even touching you. You grew to like him not just because of his dopey grin, his protectiveness, or his positivity, but also for the way he was willing to learn with you, the way he needed you. And right now, he needed you to cum more than anything.

Tension coiled in your lower abdomen, making you gasp out, “Laios – fuck – Laios, I’m gonna –”

“I know, I know,” he rasped. His pace was nearing on brutal, his whole body shaking as he held off his release for you. “Together. We’ll – together.”

And then, your muscles tighten. You clenched around his cock, and it only took one more thrust against your g-spot to have you falling apart underneath him. You put a hand over your mouth as you cried out, careful of the rest of the party hearing. Your eyes rolled back, his fingers stroking your clit through it, and it all just felt too, too good. Your orgasm went on forever, wave after wave of pleasure crashing over you. As your walls spasmed around his cock, he groaned low, finally spilling into you. His hips stuttered. His mouth gasped for air against your lips, as he felt a ripple of relief from emptying himself inside you. He bit into your shoulder again to muffle his own noises. Your pussy convulsed, milking every last drop, and you were pretty sure you saw stars.

Once the aftershocks hit you both, he slumped against you, breathing in the scent of your hair again. Your fingers traced small circles onto his back muscles, your chest rising and falling with the fast beat of your heart. When his cock went soft inside you, his fingers finally left your clit and he brought them to his mouth. Your eyes were half-lidded as you watched him wrap his lips around his fingers and suck the juices off, moaning at the taste. He looked like an intricate painting; you couldn’t help but admire the sight.

His fingers left his mouth with a wet pop, and he whispered in a voice so soft you almost didn’t hear him, “You just taste so, so good.”

Laios kissed you again, slow and full of affection. You didn’t even care that he was still inside you; you could stay like this forever, pressed into his warm skin. Gods, you liked him so much that you immediately whimpered as his tongue slid into your mouth, and when he shuddered at your fingers on his back … you couldn’t believe you once questioned if he returned your feelings. You had both been so oblivious.

His mouth moved away from yours and he cupped your cheek. He took a moment to memorize the dusting of red across your face, the way your eyes hardly opened after sex, and then said, “Are you hungry? I think we both need a snack. It’s been a long night already.”

You giggled. “You had me at hungry.”

#my fics #fic: forbidden fruit #laios touden x reader #laios touden smut #laios x reader #laios touden x reader smut #dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi x reader #dunmeshi #laios touden #laios dungeon meshi #one shot: forbidden fruit #fic: please eat

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vevobly · 2 months ago

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What about YJ adult or teen hcs for them with a partner who wears their heart on their sleeve, like just can't lie to save their life and also has the worst poker face in all history. I think itd be interesting to see who takes advantage of and who nurtures someone so emotionally transparent all the time

Yellowjackets With Heart On Their Sleeve Reader! [Peri-crash] (1)

A/N: I have a drafted work in progress headcanon post that's very similar to this, so I made this take place during peri-crash because that work took place pre-crash. Also to avoid confusion, Laura Lee's and Jackie's, can either be interpreted as it taking place before their deaths or their deaths never happening at all.

Jackie Taylor:

Jackie absolutely loves that you're open with your emotions—until it makes her uncomfortable. She enjoys being adored by you, but when you expect the same openness from her? She struggles bad. Whenever things get too serious with you guys, she'll deflect. Oh, you're telling her this really big heartfelt confession? Yep, she's gonna start joking or rolling her eyes at you. But you notice the way she looks at you when she thinks you're not watching, how her fingers linger a little too long when she fixes your hair. She's used to controlling how people see her but with you? She feels exposed, vulnerable and a little foolish.

In the wilderness, it's hard for her to keep her usual composure. So, she ends up envying how you don't try to hide your emotions. Sometimes, it even ends up with her lashing out at you for it. Feeling frustrated that you can be vulnerable when she feels like she can't be. But despite all of that, you're the only warmth she can find comfort with. She holds your hand when no one's looking, squeezing it a little too tight when things get bad. She'll never admit it or how much she needs it from you. But she'll melt into a literal puddle whenever you reassure her that it's okay to be scared, that she doesn't have to be perfect out there.

With the crash comes Jackie being very clingy to your affection more than she realizes. She hates being cold, hates being hungry, and hates feeling helpless. But at least your love for her is a constant. Something familiar in this world that's suddenly unrecognizable. When she wakes up shivering in the middle of the night, she reaches for you. She doesn't say anything, just merely tucks herself against your side and lets you hold her like she's something fragile. You don't complain, you never do. Why? Because this is the least you can do for her, be her anchor. So many things are changing, but this? This is something you hope never changes.

Shauna Shipman:

Shauna isn't sure she deserves the way you love her. You're so open, so willing to let people see exactly how you feel and that terrifies her. You'll tell her that you love her, and she'll just hesitate before saying it back like the words might choke her. But she does love you. So much it makes her stomach hurt. Ever since the crash happened, she's been really clingy to you. Watching you almost always since then, being close or just near you. It feels like if she ever turns her back on you for a second, you'd disappear and never come back to her. And she wouldn't know what to do with herself if that happened.

She doesn't always know how to reciprocate, but her actions will speak for her to you. Small yet such meaningful things, you know? She'll share food with you, press against you for warmth, and hold onto your shirt when she sleeps. The first time she lets herself break down in front of you, she is embarrassed. But you just hold her, and for the first time in a long time, she feels safe. You're the only thing keeping her grounded in all of this. And she will be damned if something terrible ever happened to you here. Things change out here, but this? You and her? She hopes it doesn't.

After the crash, your love for her is a big comfort. But it's also a huge liability. She needs you, but she doesn't know how to need people without resenting them for it (*cough cough* Jackie—). There are nights when she will just hold onto you like she's afraid you'll disappear, her breath shaky against your collarbone. And there are mornings when she will barely look at you while pretending those nights never happened at all. You make her go weak in the knees but she can't let you know. She can't let you see her like that. Or else, you might think she's weak and leave her.

Taissa Turner:

Taissa has always been drawn to strength, determination, resilience, and the kind of control she prides herself on. So your emotional openness should make her see you as weak. But it doesn't. It makes her ache instead. She tells herself she doesn't need your affection. But then the crash happens, and suddenly, needing you isn't a choice. It's an instinct. Tai respects your emotional openness but she does not always know how to handle it. She's so used to pushing forward, keeping her emotions controlled, and not being vulnerable that it catches her off guard when you somehow manage to get through her and let out parts of her she locks away.

She gets really protective, watching over you like a hawk whenever things get dangerous. If someone ever tries to take advantage of your kindness, she'll be the first to step in on that. And although she becomes hyper focused on survival, during the very few quiet moments you guys get to have together with each other, she lets herself have you. She grips your hand when she thinks no one is looking, her fingers cold and a bit shaky. When she wakes up with dirt under her nails and blood on her skin, when she doesn't remember what she did in the night—she turns to you. Your voice is the only thing that manages to snap her back to reality.

It's great that you are the way you are because when Tai feels like breaking apart under everything that's going on, you just manage to swoop in time and reassure her that everything will be fine. It's because of you that she can somehow still keep pushing through after everything that's happened so far. She knows she leans on you more than she realizes but refuses to acknowledge it. Now at night, when it's just the two of you, she's able to be soft. She'll whisper these quiet reassurances, hold you close, press her forehead against yours, and breathe you in like you're the only thing keeping her tethered. You're her only light in this place of darkness.

Van Palmer:

No doubt, Van loves how open you are with your emotions. She even teases you about it at times. It's honestly one of her favorite things about you. When you tell her you love her? She'll just grin and say "I know" before pulling you in for a kiss. And when the crash happens, your honesty with your emotions helps her cope. She jokes around to keep everyone's spirits high, but when things get bad, she'll turn to you. Just knowing you'll tell her the truth instead of sugarcoating it or saying a lie in return.

She makes it her mission to keep you laughing even in the worst moments. She needs to see you smile because your smile reminds her that there's still something worth holding onto despite everything being seemingly grim right now. If you ever break down? She'll be right there with you to pull you into her arms and to tell you "it's okay, babe. I've got you." while you're at it. She loves you so much. And while her jokes can keep everyone's spirits up, there's something tight in her chest when everyone is laughing and she just looks at you. She's terrified of a lot of things. But she's more terrified this place is going to break you before it breaks her someday.

When the wolf attack happens, when she wakes up bandaged and barely breathing? She sees the look on you and hates it. Hates how scared you are. Hates that she did this to you. "Hey," She'll rasp, voice wrecked and yet she's smiling. "Still pretty, right?" She means it as a joke, but at the same time, it's a real question. You just look at her, and Van hates it. Hates how you aren't laughing. Hates how you aren't even in the slightest bit smiling at all. But then you shake your head and just proceed to fuss over her. "I could get used to this," She'll chuckle, and you'll just narrow your eyes at her before kissing her. She's fine.

Natalie Scatorccio:

Natalie isn't used to being loved the way you love her. She's used to people usually leaving or worse, hurting her just because they can. When you first tell her you love her, she flinches, and then she waits. As if your words are just a joke, a prank that you'll soon admit to and take back. But you don't. And Nat can't decide whether that's a good thing or a bad thing for her. Because with the way you are, there's no room left for her to doubt that your words aren't true. She wants to believe otherwise, but she knows you and how you are. When you say something, you really do mean it sincerely.

When the crash happens, she pretends to be annoyed when you tell her just how much she means to you. But if anyone looked closely, they would see the way her expression softens. The way she grips your hand a little tighter. In the wilderness, you're one of the only things keeping her from completely shutting down. Your ability to love her so openly reminds her that maybe, just maybe, there's still some good left in this world despite everything she's been through before and after the crash. She worries about you being too open, too trusting at times. She doesn't want you to get hurt, and if she has to be the one to protect you, so be it.

One night, you whisper "I love you" into her hair and she doesn't say anything. But the way she exhales slowly, just before she starts pressing herself closer to you that night says enough. She might never put it into words, but her actions tell you more than enough. She loves you too. And she'll be damned if she let the wilderness or whatever the hell it is do something to you. Nat lets you trace the scars on her arms, lets you kiss the bruises on her ribs, but she never asks for it. Because asking means wanting, and wanting means losing. And Nat? Nat would rather die than let herself lose you at all.

Lottie Matthews:

Lottie watches you like she sees something in you that no one else does (it's eerie and very romantic at the same time). Something important. Something sacred. Before the crash, her love was gentle. Soft touches, dreamy smiles, and forehead kisses that lingered. But after the crash? After that, her love practically becomes worship. She tells you the wilderness wants you. That your love isn't just love. It's a gift. A sign. And you're scared, but when she looks at you like that, it's hard to remember why. This is still Lottie, your girlfriend. Despite everything, you still love her more than anything.

For Lottie, she finds your emotional openness as something beautiful. I mean, she's always been sensitive to her emotions, and yours? It just shines so brightly that she's drawn to you like a moth to a flame. She constantly reassures you that your emotions are valid. That you should feel deeply because the world is hard enough without bad people trying to snuff out your light. She finds you being the way you are as something that makes you special. Your love for her is a source of comfort. Not just for her, but for the others too. While you being open emotionally could be a weakness to most people, it's a strength to her and the wilderness.

She makes sure you know how much she cherishes you. Constantly holding you close, whispering soft praises, and running her fingers through your hair to soothe you whenever things get bad out in the wilderness. She might have changed a bit (that's an understatement) after the crash, but she's still her. She's still your Lottie after everything. If anyone tries to hurt you, she will step in one way or another. The wilderness is cruel, but she will not let it take away the warmth that you bring to her. It can take and take whatever it wants, it just can't take you no matter what. And if it does, Lottie wouldn't know what to do with herself if it ever happened.

Laura Lee:

Laura Lee admires your emotional honesty. She sees it as a strength, proof that you have a good heart. And encourages you to express your feelings always, reassuring you that there is completely nothing wrong with being vulnerable the way you are to many others. "God gave us emotions for a reason" She told you once with this soft and gentle smile. After the crash happens, your presence is the only source of comfort for her amongst other things. She prays for the both of you, holding your hand tightly whenever she starts to whisper for protection and guidance out there in the wilderness.

Laura Lee loves you with an earnestness that makes your chest hurt. She believes in you the way she believes in God, fully and without hesitation. Your love is something pure, something untouched by whatever darkness is creeping into the lives of everyone with you guys in the wilderness. "This place can't take what's in your heart." She holds your hands between her, leaning down to kiss your knuckles softly before pressing her forehead against yours. She often reminds you that your love is good, that even in the wilderness, it's important to hold onto kindness. And that no matter what happens, you guys will have each other always and forever.

You're scared. She's scared. Everyone is scared. But despite all of it, at least you guys have each other. Whenever you feel like breaking down because of everything that's happening, she's there for you always. Running smooth circles on your back as she reassures you as best as she can that everything will be fine and that you guys along with everyone else will be found and then brought back home sooner or later. You can't tell whether you believe her or not, but it's nice to be comforted and to hold onto someone's words during these times when it seems like nothing will be better. In the wilderness, she's your shield. Your guiding light.

Misty Quigley:

Misty adores how expressive you are. She's never had someone openly love her the way you, and it makes her feel special. She clings to every bit of affection you give her, smiling so wide when you say you love her. Just practically vibrating with happiness when you hold her hand. But after the crash, her attachment to you becomes even stronger. She'll do anything to keep you safe, whether you want it or not, it's not really a problem. This girl doesn't plan on losing you now or ever. If anyone tries to hurt you or take advantage of your kindness, Misty will take care of it. She won't let anything happen to the one person who makes her feel truly loved.

Misty loves you in a way that's too much—too intense, too desperate, too Misty. Before the crash, she always tried so hard to be what you wanted. To be the kind of person you chose instead of tolerated. And with the crash happening after, she doesn't even have to try. She saves lives. She's needed. And you need her. She does everything for you. Gets you extra food, gives you the warmest blankets, and makes sure you're safe. When you jokingly call her your hero one time, she beams. She doesn't care if you mean it or not. She just needs to hear it from you. Not Jackie, not Shauna, not Tai, or anyone else. Just you.

Misty constantly reassures you that you're important almost to an annoying degree. She's always telling you that you're the best thing to have ever happened in her whole life. And if that means keeping you by her side forever... well, she'll make sure that happens. Whether you want it or not. She will make it happen. She'll make sure that no matter what happens out there in the wilderness that the two of you will make it out alive together and not without the other. Misty won't let herself be found and rescued unless you're there with her. Because nothing would be complete without you there.

#yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets x you #jackie taylor x reader #jackie taylor x you #shauna shipman x reader #shauna shipman x you #taissa turner x reader #taissa turner x you #van palmer x reader #van palmer x you #natalie scatorccio x reader #natalie scatorccio x you #laura lee x reader #laura lee x you #lottie matthews x reader #lottie matthews x you #misty quigley x reader #misty quigley x you

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ceruark · 18 days ago

Text

☆ killah ☆

♫ "if i get you alone, under your skin and bone, imma try you on for size" the MAYHEM collection. now playing: killah.

[childhood friend! sunday x fem! reader] synopsis: you return home from uni after breaking up with your boyfriend, where your childhood friend awaits you with open arms... and no ulterior motives. wc: 2.0k cw: explicit smut. MDNI. sunday is a bit of a freak. implied obsessive and possessive behavior.

“massive day for sunday oak,” kakavasha jokes when you break the news to your friends back home that you finally broke up with your awful boyfriend.

your relationship with sunday, your childhood best friend, had become… strained, for some reason, after you’d told him that you were in relationship with someone you’d met on campus. things were still tense from you choosing to go to a different college despite the fact that you’d both been accepted into the same prestigious one that he’s currently attending, but this seemed to be the nail in the coffin. sunday still texted you frequently, of course, but you did notice how he would never like or comment on a post or close friends story that featured your then-boyfriend in it.

he’s not the type of person to do something without purpose, after all.

kakavasha, someone you’d both met in high school who is a friend to you (to sunday, too, not that either will ever admit it) hounds you constantly about sunday’s supposed crush on you.

“he’s being passive-aggressive.” the smugness in his voice somehow always manages to carry through the phone speaker. “i don’t know why you won’t admit to yourself that he’s down bad for you.”

“he’s not,” you insist, even though you know somewhere in the back of your mind, that sunday has always looked at you in a way that kakavasha and veritas never have.

despite your feigned denial and ignorance, though, you’re a bit nervous to be home for the summer. you’d broken up with your ex at the beginning of the semester, meaning that a solid five months have passed since then. you feel like you’ve moved on and are ready for whoever life sends your way next.

a mindset and shift in your demeanor that sunday will be able to pick up on immediately.

sunday knows you better than anyone— undoubtedly, even better than you know yourself. it can get uncomfortable, at times, being under his scrutinizing, all-seeing gaze and being handled as meticulously as one of the projects assigned to him by his adoptive father as a test to see if he is indeed a worthy heir.

maybe you are a personal project to him. he’s always so careful, so calculated in his interactions with you that it leaves you feeling slightly uneasy, but only after the fact. no, in the moment, you’re always blinded by your fondness and long-time affection for him, something which he knows. which he uses to his advantage.

so, yes, you do play dumb when it comes to sunday. you know how he is, what he’s capable of— you’ve been witness to his colder, crueler side countless times, have exchanged your fair share of wide-eyed side glances with robin— and you know that if show even an ounce of interest, he’ll seriously pursue you, and he’ll execute it so flawlessly that you won’t even realize what hit you until you’re already nestled deep within his grasp.

you know this, and yet.

you agree to go over to his house (mansion, really; all these years, and you still get lost in dewlight pavilion if you’re not with sunday or robin) the day after your flight lands. his more questionable behaviors aside, you do love sunday dearly, and you do want to see him again, especially now that things aren’t tense between you anymore.

a foolish thing to do, in hindsight. why do you never trust your instincts when he’s involved?

he’s been driving you insane all day. his touches linger, but not nearly long enough for you to actually be able to call him out on it. you’ll think you catch something needy in his gaze, but when you do a double-take, he’s the perfect picture of innocence, listening to you attentively, as always.

sunday has always been attractive, you’d be an idiot to try and convince yourself otherwise. but you’ve always been hesitant out of fear of ruining your friendship with him— that, and because of the depth of his feelings for you.

you should know that he’s stringing you along, working you up on purpose. he’s always known how to read you, carefully tracing your lines with his finger as if you’re sheet music detailing his favorite song, committing your notes to memory and playing you so masterfully, like he was born to do nothing else but ensure that you are his finest piece of work.

and as you’ve always known, you’re already in too deep by the time your brain catches up to what he’s been scheming; you’ve got him pushed back against his headboard while you straddle his lap, hands tangled in his hair as you kiss him senseless. his hands are at your waist, fingers digging into your skin as he keeps trying to pull you impossibly closer to him. his mouth is pliant beneath yours, following your lead and movements with small moans and gasps slipping out in between.

he trails after you when you pull back, so you place a hand against his chest to keep him in place. it snaps him out of it enough for him to open his eyes. he looks absolutely debauched with his blown pupils and puffy lips, and you try to ignore what the sight does to the heat building between your thighs.

“is this—” you clear your throat. “is this really okay?”

his eyes are locked onto your lips as you speak. “why wouldn’t it be?” he asks back.

“you— you haven’t done anything before, sunday,” you say. “i don’t want you to regret it.”

he finally meets your eyes at that. one hand removes itself from your waist and comes up to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking it gently.

“i could never regret you, dove,” he whispers, and you feel your face flush bright red at the nickname.

you swallow thickly. the devotion will take some getting used to. “are you sure?”

he drags you toward him, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “of course,” he murmurs against them.

you adjust yourself on his lap, leaning into him fully, your chest pressing against his. he sucks in a shaky breath at the contact, his hand finding its way to your waist again. “you’ll let me know if it’s too much, right?”

he nods weakly, distracted. when you raise an eyebrow, he mutters out, “yes, i will.”

“okay,” you say, satisfied.

and then you descend on him again, lips meeting in a mess of tongue and desperation. you hike the skirt of your dress up and begin to slowly rock your hips back and forth against his clothed erection, and the groan that leaves his throat sends a rush of heat shooting down your spine, pooling in the pit of your stomach.

after a few minutes, he pulls away just enough to hiss out a desperate, “please.”

nodding, you lean back and begin fumbling with his belt. once it’s off, you pull his pants as far down his legs as you can without removing yourself from him completely. his boxers are soaked through, and you feel yourself swallowing again in anticipation as you reach inside of them. he jolts again when your hand wraps around his girth, another whine slipping out of his lips as he involuntarily bucks into your hand. with your other hand, you begin moving his boxers down his thighs as well, and pull his cock free.

he’s on the slimmer side, but he’s definitely longer than your ex— the only person you’ve ever been intimate with. you might have some trouble taking him fully, but judging from the amount of pre already dripping down his cock— and the mess between your own legs, dripping down your thighs— it might be able to slip in just fine.

huffing out a shaky sigh of your own, you hurriedly remove your own panties, tossing them somewhere to the side of the bed. you shift upward, carefully lining his cock up with your hole. you both groan a little bit when his tip brushes against your entrance.

you place a hand on his shoulder and rub your thumb in circles against his collarbone and, voice lilting, ask, “are you ready?”

“yes,” he breathes out.

slowly, you start sinking down onto his cock. a soft whine escapes you as his tip stretches you on its way in, a sigh of relief leaving you when it slips in and you start taking in his shaft.

sunday’s grip is near-bruising as you descend fully, and a strangled moan leaves him when you sit down on him completely. a choked gasp leaves you when his tip hits something deep within, a part of you that’s never been reached before.

he leans forward and presses his forehead to your shoulder. you gently card a hand through his hair, letting both him and yourself adjust.

when he leans back again, you place both your hands on his shoulders.

“i’m going to move now,” you say, “that okay?”

“please,” he whines again, and you giggle and press a sweet kiss to his lips.

you move yourself up and off of him just enough so that his tip is barely leaving your entrance before you slam back down again, taking him at a fast pace.

whatever control he was trying to maintain over himself unravels quickly, and the whines that leave him stoke the flames burning in the pit of your stomach even more, knowing that you’re responsible for picking him apart like this. your own whines mingle with his, as each bounce has his tip slamming into that sensitive spot again and again, pushing you toward the edge faster than your ex or any toy ever has.

he’s getting close— you can feel him twitching inside you, and his whines are escalating into deep, loud moans that he tries to muffle by burying his face into your chest. you’re not quite there yet, but you’re not too worried about coming today; making his first time enjoyable is enough to satisfy you.

as if sensing your resolve, though, sunday removes a hand from your waist— something you don’t realize until his cool fingers are prodding at your clit. your hips jerk forward at the sudden contact, sucking in a sharp breath as he begins kneading it.

his movements are a bit sloppy at first, but he’s always been a quick learner, especially when it comes to you. when one particular motion has you crying out suddenly, he’s pressing harder against that spot and massaging it faster, bringing you closer to your high.

your movements have become erratic and your walls are fluttering when he tries to speak again, voice hoarse. “i— i’m—”

“inside,” you moan out, the word slurring as you feel yourself hanging on by a thread. “‘s okay.”

sunday gives a few a more thrusts before one more loud whine rips itself from his throat. he gives one last aborted jerk as he unloads into you, and the warmth that fills you pushes you over edge at last, and somehow, even through his own haze, he continues rubbing against your clit as you ride out your high.

eventually, you slump forward, collapsing against his chest as you catch breath and bring your racing heart back down. a hand comes up to cradle your hair gently, and he presses a tender kiss to your temple.

now clear-headed, you sigh, poking a finger into his rib. “you did all of that on purpose, didn’t you?”

he laughs, innocent enough if you didn’t know him as well as you do.

“whatever are you talking about?” he asks. he pulls you back by the hair gently, gazing into your eyes. there’s mischief and something a bit darker in them. “you came onto me.”

you roll your eyes at him. “what am i gonna do with you?”

he takes your hand in his, bringing it up to his lips and brushing your knuckles against them.

“i can think of a few things.”

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solxamber · 28 days ago

Note

VALENTINES EVENT IM HERE AND IM SAT

Rook, Romantic, I bet on losing dogs by mitski plssss

"I bet on losing dogs" || Rook Hunt

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: I bet on losing dogs by Mitski

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 650

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: Angst with a happy ending, Pining

Rook Hunt has always loved things that would never love him back.

He has known this since childhood, since the first time he reached for a bird with trembling hands only to watch it take flight, startled by the mere thought of his touch. He learned it in poetry, in old stories where knights swore themselves to princesses who wed kings instead, in the lonely way the moon followed the earth—close enough to see, never close enough to hold.

He learned it when he loved his first masterpiece, a painting so beautiful he wept at the sight of it, only to realize the brushstrokes would never look back at him.

And he learned it again, years later, when he met you.

Because Rook has always been a fool for beauty, for brilliance, for things that shine so brightly they leave him blind. And you—you were dazzling. You existed with the kind of presence that made the world shift around you, made the air hum with the echo of your laughter. You burned like a star, and Rook was foolish enough to stand too close.

He loved you. Of course, he loved you.

But love, for Rook, was never meant to be something returned.

So he did what he had always done—he watched. He loved you quietly, from the shadows, from the sidelines, from just beyond your reach. He made himself your friend, your confidant, your ever-present companion, never once daring to hope for more.

Because that was not the way the story went.

He was the fool, the poet, the audience. You were the masterpiece. And masterpieces did not love the people who admired them.

So he swallowed it down, this unbearable, aching devotion. He stood at your side, smiling as you chased after others, as you dreamed of things that did not include him, as you built a future where he was merely an afterthought.

And it was enough. It had to be enough.

Because Rook did not love expecting to be loved in return. He loved because it was in his nature, because it was what he was made for.

Until one night, when you shattered everything.

"Why do you do this to yourself?"

The question was soft, but it cut sharper than any blade. Rook turned, startled, but your expression was unreadable.

"Mon trésor?" His voice did not waver, though his heart did.

"You love things that never love you back," you said, and it was unbearable—the way you looked at him, the way your voice wrapped around the words like a secret, like a confession. "You love things that leave. That fade. That slip away. You love like you expect to lose."

His breath hitched. Because it was true. It was always true.

And yet, hearing you say it—hearing you see it—felt like being stripped bare.

"You don't have to," you murmured.

He wanted to laugh. Oh, but you did not understand. He did not know how to exist outside of longing. Outside of being the one who waits, who watches, who loves and loves and loves without ever being held in return.

He opened his mouth to tell you as much, but then—

You reached for him.

Fingers slipping through his, anchoring him to something real. Something solid. Something that had never, not once, slipped away.

A breath trembled from his lips, the weight of longing so deeply ingrained in his bones that he barely knew what it felt like to let go. But then you shifted, close enough that he could feel your warmth, and when you pulled him forward—hesitant but certain—he let himself lean into you.

His forehead brushed against your shoulder, the tension in his body slowly unwinding as you squeezed his hand. And maybe, just maybe, Rook Hunt had been wrong all along.

Because in this moment, in the quiet hush of your presence beside him, he realized—

Some masterpieces love their admirers, too.

Masterlist ; Valentine's Event

#ˋ°•*⁀➷ valentine's event #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #rook x reader #rook hunt x reader #rook hunt #rook x you #twst rook x reader #twst rook

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etheries1015 · 1 year ago

Note

Because I have favorism towards the fae myself (And I'm sorry this is suggestive)

Remember Malleus' voice line about touching his hornes? Now, reader just touches them whenever they can be reached (like when Malleus is using their lap as a pillow) or stroking his tail whenever it's wrapped around Reader. Without realizing it's doing things to him.

Oh my gosh. Don't apologize for suggestive content, I love that shit. Feed me more of it. Heuheuheuheu.

Feeding a Faes hidden desires

Featuring: Malleus Draconia <3

General warnings: Gender neutral reader

18+ / suggestive content minors please don't interact~

It was difficult for Malleus Draconia to open up to people, he had to be the face of pure perfection for the sake of his kingdom. Every action he took, every word he said, would reflect upon Briar Valley and put his position as a prince in either light of greatness, or foolishness. The former was not an option for Malleus Draconia. He was given the best of the best when it came to his studies and academics, except, unfortunately, sex ed.

He understood the bare minimum of course, for reproduction was important for keeping the bloodline of the Draconias strong. What he was not well versed in, however, was the feeling of lust that came with reproduction. He never knew it could feel so... dirty.

When he had agreed to allow you to touch his horns when you insisted, he had no clue what kind of...desires this would stir up in him without realizing.

You had asked the draconic fae to touch his horns and his tail, and he spent a few times urging you otherwise in fear of harming you in some way. Yet it did not take him very long to feel curious and begin to imagine how your hands would feel upon his horns and extremities, starting out purely out of curiosity and the desire to be closer to you.

The first time you touched his horns was in the comfort of the lounge, he bent over for you to touch and feel them freely before being interrupted by Sebeks outraged cries of blasphemy. Since the moment your soft fingertips pressed against the roughness of his obsidian horns, he felt his body shudder at the contact, and something in him he decided to ignore screamed in his mind that it was perhaps a...dangerous endeavor. He had managed to suppress himself from such thoughts and desires, even allowing you to (on occasion) touch his horns and tail at your request. Never for too long, for when the thoughts returned he made a quick excuse to end the session. He wanted to respect you and your soft touch- not sully the romantic gesture with lustful thoughts.

He was often searching for your touch in many different ways, in hugs, cuddles, gentle kisses, holding hands...yet a few months and almost a year, he could feel himself become far more greedier. Malleus would notice the slight changes in himself when you would reach up to grab hold of something on a shelf, the way your shirt rode up your stomach ever so slightly, the way your hands would draw circles around the title page to get a feel for the book, he almost felt himself envious of the piece of literature. He told himself not to lose control, to hold himself together like a proper gentlefae, allowing you to only touch his draconic features on the rare occasion he felt he could keep himself properly composed.

Yet now there you were, in your room in Ramshackle dorm, sitting upon the lap of your lover gently caressing his smooth black horns absentmindedly. It was a comfortable atmosphere for you, being held lovingly by your tall fae significant other in silence while pouring your love and affection into your little pets upon his horns. You muttered a "beautiful..." before leaning up slightly...

and placing a kiss upon his horns.

Malleus let out a sudden high-pitched "urgh!" of surprise, his tail squeezing your waist slightly. Your eyebrows raised in shock, pulling away to look at your now flushed lover, feeling a bit of...excitement from down below. He suddenly removed his tail from your waist and seemed to want to move away from you, until you pushed your body on top of his own, straddling his waist and feeling his arousal between your thighs.

"I-i'm-" He gulped and let out a low moan, his hands shaking hesitantly mid air, not certain where he should place them, "I'm sorry- this is incredibly unbecoming of a king-" You hushed him with a rushed kiss and shook your head, the kiss lasting only a moment prior to you pulling away face as flushed as his and forehead pressed against his own.

"It's natural," You comforted him, "Do you...like it when I touch your horns, Mal...?" You hesitated your inquiry, his response a simple and slow nod giving you confidence to move your hands back to his horns and begin to rub them intimately. You felt his body twitch below you and his tail wrapped itself around your thigh, voice trembling. You hadn't seen the fae prince so shaken up before, so uncertain, so vulnerable. Only in front of you would he allow himself to lose such control.

"Are you...are you certain? I haven't any...experience," He muttered against the crook of your neck, arms wrapping around your body and hugging you tightly as if to console himself.

"It's okay," you murmured, hands removing themselves from his horns much to his whining displeasure of the sudden warmth disappearing from them, before shuddering once more as your attention shifted to his tail. Your finger trailed the scales and you felt him twitch between your thighs through his pants as his excitement stirred with every touch you placed upon his extremities.

"I...want it too," You purred.

Malleus's desire gauge was now at 100%

and you had no idea what you had just gotten yourself into.

~~~~

Masterlist

#Twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x reader #malleus #malleus x reader #Malleus draconia #Malleus draconia x reader #twst smut #twisted wonderland smut #twisted wonderland fanfictions #twst fanfics

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murdrdocs · 2 months ago

Note

i think the first time you and joquin hook up, you're giggling. your face and ears are flushed, and you're giggling bc you can't believe this is actually happening. you're trying to make jokes about the situation you've gotten yourself into to ignore how you're starting to sweat bc doing this with him is actually a big deal for you. then you lock eyes and joaquin's not laughing. in fact, you don't think you've ever seen him so quiet. his eyes are roaming all over your face, drinking you in (is that the right phrase?) and you can see the redness on his cheeks and creeping up his neck. he tells you to cut that shit out and that's when you know this is just as serious for him as it is for you.

GOD i wish he was real😣

i can see this so vividly im gonna throw the fuck up.

he's sitting at the top of the bed, back lazily pressed against the stack of skewed pillows. he's almost completely naked, only one layer—the most important layer, keeping him from revealing everything to you. in no time, though, joaquín's boxers will slide off of his hips and join the pile of clothes on the floor, just as your bra and panties will, too.

you're working on that now, forearms wrapped around your back as you fumble for the clasp on your bra. it's taking you too long, even though it shouldn't. but you're nervous. you are so incredibly nervous and by trying not to show it, you're letting it show. hands shaking and fumbling, giggles coming from your lips, eyes avoiding contact.

you're so in your own world that you haven't even realized that joaquín is inviting you into his. not until he leans forward and places a hand on your bicep. just that one touch stops you.

"do you want me to...?"

your first instinct is to say no, but it would be foolish to do so. you're obviously struggling, why not just accept help? you nod and let your arms fall.

joaquín reaches around your back and places both hands on the clasp of your bra. he's close to you like this, not as close as when the two of you were kissing just minutes before this. but somehow this feels more intimate than before. sharing his air—lips hovering, his eyes staring at the bridge of your nose and, likely, your cleavage, your eyes finally just looking at the tan and clear skin of his face.

he's so pretty.

your bra is undone and you let it fall from your arms. joaquín does help a bit; he pulls the piece of material off of your arms and tosses it to the side of the bed. and then he just stares.

you're still feeling giggly, laughter is bubbling under your skin, and to try and avoid it you lean forward, cocking your head to the side enough to slot your nose with his. he kisses you back with lingering pecks. once, twice, and as you go in for a third he whispers against your lips, "hold on, hold on."

you're pulling back, eyebrows furrowed, wondering what could be wrong. "is something—?"

he shakes his head, big hands coming up to rest on your hips. "no. 's okay. just wanna look at you for a sec."

immediately, you're grinning, playfully punching his shoulder with not even an ounce of your weight or real intention behind it. you're giggling as you chastise him, jokingly telling him to hurry up and other things through a ramble.

he humors you for a second, lips splitting into a grin that always blinds you initially, but then he licks his lips and his smile drops to make room for an expression that's just a little more serious.

"no, no, no. let me just look at you. c'mon, be serious for a second. just sit there and look pretty. you've always been good at that."

and then your brain is spinning and you can't do anything but listen to him. sitting on your heels, tits out, letting joaquín stare at you. and yeah, his gaze is lustful, of course it is. but it's appreciative. he's admiring you, not for what you have, but for who you are.

as soon as he gives you the go ahead, you're climbing onto his lap and kissing him stupid.

#joaquin torres x reader #joaquín torres x reader #joaquinsworld!#icarus writes mcu

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allhopesforlove · 3 months ago

Text

Farewell, my love part 3

Summary: In the midst of a battle, y/n realizes that their only way to victory would be through her sacrifice. Determined with her decision to lead an army of soldiers to the frontlines, there was nothing that could hold her back. Because she was sure that if she continued living on she wouldn’t survive any more of what was blooming between Elain and Azriel.

Pairing: Azriel x Reader, Azriel x Elain

Word count: 6.6K

Warning: Angst, war, misogyny, pain and just more pain?

A/n: This one was crazy tbh it took everything of my rookie writing to create a 6k words piece 😭 storytelling is really complex and you have to learn to not forget bits of information and try to string up everything together. But well, I hope you guys enjoy this part <3

And btwwwe the speech part was HEAVILY inspired by our one and only goat Hajime Isayama (those who know, know) so all credits to his beautiful and sexy brain.

Song recommendation: The Hanging Tree by Jennifer Lawrence, Running up that Hill-epic version by Samuel Kim

part 1 part 2

———————

With every step she took, she felt a piercing sensation in her chest. Although surrounded by the smell of death and fear, the only thing plaguing her mind was Azriel’s sorrowful expression. It took every bit of strength in her to leave him and winnow away, after he nearly begged on his knees so that she wouldn’t leave him.

Now if she had listened to her heart she would’ve probably stayed and flung her arms around him. She would’ve swatted off Rhysand and Cassian off of him so that he could embrace her as well.

As much as that sounded like a perfect resolution, she was thankful that her rationality took over her.

She had to look reality in the eyes. The bond had just snapped for them, emotions were running high and to be frank, it were their instincts and carnal desires taking hold of their actions.

Well for her, she also has been in love with him way before their lives were strung up together by fate. But that didn’t matter anymore.

She was thankful that Azriel spoke the truth about his feelings for Elain, truly, because it snapped her out of the dream she was creating in her mind. About actually having a happy ending with him. How foolish.

And after she saw the way Elain had looked at her she came to a painful realization that she herself was the one bringing ultimate chaos and confusion to their lives.

Because Azriel and Elain were happy, genuinely, they were happy before her, andshe was certain that they would still find a way to become happy after her. So who was she to disrupt this beautiful future they had pictured for themselves.

She heaved out a sigh that has been bottling up inside of her. What a crazy turn of events.

One moment she found out her mate was the one she has loved for so long, and now she was walking with a heavy heart towards her death. Right.

She had to focus on the matter at hand.

And as she neared the military base and saw the first men and women walking around their tents, anxiety began to creep up on her. With every clatter of her armor she felt their gazes on her. Are they aware of what’s about to happen to them? Were they able to sense her anxiety?

With heavy steps she dared look them in the eyes. Sorrow. Pain. Suffering. She was met with hard gazes.

Some, she saw, were wearing bandages around them, some were missing limbs.

An eerie silence was following every step she took. The reek of ruin lingering in her nostrils. It felt as though she was trapped to stand in the center of a sinister play, orchestrated by Death himself.

She was slightly shaking and as she realized this she clenched her fist to get ahold of herself. This wasn’t the time nor the place to get second thoughts about her decision. So whatever it was that distracted her, she pushed it down and gave her best to also close down her side of the bond.

Because Azriel’s emotions were overwhelming her and she couldn’t allow herself to still linger on him. This was it. This is where it ends for them. For her.

Two males and a female were approaching her. She recognized them as the base commanders. She felt chills running down her body as she saw that one of them was missing an eye, the wound still looking fresh. Even if she was a warrior and fought in wars before, she would never get used to its aftereffects. Never get used to the suffering.

She stood still and waited for the commanders to arrive at her side. By the looks of it, they were probably informed by Rhys, because… because it appeared that tension had drained from their features, leaving behind only the hollow calm of someone who knew their fate. They carried a sort of confidence and strength parents would tell their children about when reading them tales about ancient heroes. It soothed her. Despite the circumstances she found strength in that.

She adjusted her posture and relaxed her face.

She was going to do this.

“We were informed of your arrival just a moment ago, general.” Right. She was the general. Second to Cassian.

“It’s good to see you again y/n.”

And she remembered Farlan, the male standing besides the other one with the lost eye. They had fought side by side and she had saved Farlan from an attack he didn’t see while he was in the midst of a fight back then.

“It’s good to see you, too Farlan. Although I wished we had met again in other circumstances.” She rasped out with a sigh. He mustered up a crooked smile at that.

She then looked at the other two.

“Were the troops informed of the next attack?”

But what she really had meant to ask was, if they knew that they’d be riding to their deaths and not live long enough to get a taste of freedom again. But they understood her.

“We didn’t have much time, as we just got informed as well. But I think that some can guess what your arrival means.” the female answered her.

And she realized that she didn’t know her name.

“Please forgive me for my ignorance. I didn’t ask your names…?”

“Iris. I am Iris and this-“

“My name is Adonis.” A gruff voice interrupted. By the looks of it Adonis looked way older than the other two. Older than herself. Ancient almost. And his scarred eye added to his aged skin as he looked like someone who has seen lots of their world’s cruelty. With a hardened look he asked

“I am guessing that you will lead us?“

A sly grin appeared on her face at the obvious statement.

“Why else would I be standing here.”

She said looking him straight into his eyes not yielding to his stare. She didn’t move a muscle.

He narrowed his eyes at her then

“Tsk. They should’ve sent the general.”

“I beg your pardon?” The audacity of this male. But before she could say anything more, he spit viciously

“You think they’ll take a little girl like you seriously when you tell ‘em to openly run into the arms of the enemy.”

And she saw red.

“If you are pussy enough, you are very free to go. That’s what I’ll tell them as well.”

She said with cold indifference and continued

“I dont have time to play little games Adnis-“

“Adonis.”

“Right, Adonis, whatever. Matter of fact, I actually don’t care, but here is what I am going to tell you-“

and she was pissed now, because she looked at him with such a void that it was chilling, and she saw how Farlan looked down out of reflex. Iris looked like she was in awe. Guess it was long due that someone put Adris or Adnis, or whatever, in his place.

With slow but self-composed steps she was now standing right before him, as she felt his ugly breath hit her face. She scrunched up her nose at that.

“- whatever opinions you have of me. I dont give a fuck. But let’s make one thing clear commander-“ and she pointed a finger on his armored chest.

“Your hate, your prejudices or your anger. They won’t do you any good anymore, because you and I? We share the same fate-“

and she also looked at the other two

“We all will fight with all our might and we will die on that battlefield, I can assure you that. No sweet talks, no lies. Just the cruel reality of what is to come. And while you are one step closer to death, you will see that your greed will not help you get out of death’s grip. So either get ahold of yourself or fuck off.” and he was flabbergasted.

“And one more thing-“

Her brows knitted together into an arrogant frown

“-I am your general, not the other way round, so don’t you forget that even in your last moments in life, it was a woman that stood above you.”

And she was satisfied with that ugly face he was making.

“Now close your gaping mouth before I have to smell any more of that disgusting breath.”

His face was flushed with anger and his mouth shut, as it was the last thing she saw before turning to the other two.

“I want you to gather up everyone. We don’t have much time, so I want everyone prepared in 10 minutes.”

“Of course, general.” she heard Farlan say and rush to get everyone ready.

She didn’t wait a minute longer and took off to get a moment to herself. But before she got too far, she heard footsteps rushing to her. So she slowed down and was met with Iris’ form.

“Is there a problem?”

She asked as Iris seemed like she was out of breath. But what the former had to say surprised her

“You…- I…” she pointed one finger up while leaning on her knees and heaving out some breaths, so y/n stayed still and waited patiently for her to continue.

When it seemed like Iris was gaining composure again, she looked at her with such admiration it made y/n curious of what she had to say.

“I wanted to thank you general. The way you talked to Adonis, the way you put him in his place? That was something I have always dreamed of doing, so from the bottom of my heart. Thank you for allowing me to see that look on his face.” She breathed out and stood straight as a warrior. Y/n put her hand on her arm then and said

“You don’t have to thank me for that Iris. He was getting way over himself and it seems that this isn’t something that only happened in regards to me. I am happy that my choice of words satisfied you.”

And she winked at her, while Iris let out a little laugh.

“By the way, you can call me y/n. Titles don’t matter now anyway.”

Iris gave her a smile and brought her left hand towards where y/n’s hand was lying on her arm. And there, she saw a shiny object around her ringfinger and asked before she really could think about it

“You got family?”

And Iris looked towards where y/n was glancing. Maybe y/n shouldn’t have asked, because a sad smile was forming on Iris’ face and she saw tears welling in her eyes.

“I lost my mate in battle two days ago.” and y/n had to close her eyes at that. She felt her heart clench and hurt for this female in front of her. They say losing a mate is the worst kind of pain someone could feel. However, she was painfully reminded of a certain Shadowsinger.

“I am sorry for your loss Iris.” She whispered and Iris only gave her a sharp nod. She let go of her arm and just as she was about to leave Iris asked back.

“Do you .. have family?” And y/n couldn’t hide her gasp, she really wished that she wouldn’t have asked her as well, because everything was still so fresh.

She contemplated telling her about Azriel, and decided she would just do it. She had nothing to lose anymore.

“I.. I have a mate. But our situation is a bit complicated, because.. well he, he is with someone else-“ she heard a gasp and saw how Iris’ eyes widened. Before she could theorize in her head, y/n clarified

“It’s not that we were together before, no. He- he didn’t cheat or something like that. He was already together with the other woman and well.. let’s say the bond just snapped today for us.”

She didn’t know why but shame filled her at that revelation and she looked down on her boots. She didn’t want to delve into too much detail, because she already was feeling that numbing pain creep up on her again.

“That’s brutal. I am so sorry y/n, I wish there would’ve been more time for you.” Iris said with empathy.

And y/n was thankful in that moment to have someone who was compassionate with her, which is what compelled her to bare parts of her soul to her

“Yeah, me too Iris.”

And Iris looked at her with pity as she reached her fingers to her face to wipe the tear off that rolled down her face. She didn’t notice that she has started crying.

“I- well, I just wish that everything turned out differently-” and she was forcing herself to hold back that sob that was creeping up her throat.

She was thankful that Iris embraced her then, because she was sure that she would’ve broken down right then and there.

“Thank you for telling me.” Iris whispered in her hair and squeezed her. Y/n just squeezed back as an answer and relished in the comfort of Iris’ arms for a second.

—————————

Azriel couldn’t believe it. He just couldn’t understand why this was happening to him, one moment she was in front of him and now she was gone.

He shook of the hands holding him back, as they loosened their grip on him after y/n winnowed away.

“What the hell were you thinking.”

He spat viciously at Rhysand and Cassian, who still looked at him like they’ve seen a ghost. Because this was so unlike Azriel, unlike the shadowsinger hiding and observing in his silent corner. It was Rhysand who spoke up first

“What the hell has gotten into you Azriel? I understand that you don’t want her to risk her life for us, god, I wish that I have gone instead of her. But I never realized that you.. well that you guys were so close-“

and he dared to shift his gaze towards Elain

“- after you had nearly begged me to be with Elain.“

and Azriel winced and closed his eyes for a moment. Right. They didn’t know. And Elain…how was he supposed to do this now. Sweet Elain, who must be so confused why her lover acted this way for another female.

When he opened his eyes again, he looked up to seek out her gaze, and when he found her doe brown eyes already looking at him, he visibly shook. But one way or another, the truth had to be told and he’d rather want everyone to know at once rather than having to be questioned by every single one of them.

“Y/n is my mate.” and as he heard multiple gasps at once he couldn’t recognize which belonged to whom. But what broke his heart was the look Elain was giving him. Hurt. Betrayal. He didn’t want to do this to her, he didn’t want to be the cause of her pain.

“Brother… I-“ Cassian couldn’t find the right words, and he didn’t blame him because neither could he. This was a fucked up situation.

“And despite that, she … she still decided to go?” Mor asked no one in particular as a frown was appearing on her face.

“Well I … I didn’t really gave her a reason to stay.” he whispered back.

And now she got a bit irritated as she narrowed her eyes at him.

“What do you mean by that?”

But he didn’t need more words to say as realization hit her at once and she suddenly snapped her head towards Elain. She looked at her with such scrutiny, but before she got to say anything to her, Azriel went over Elain to stay protectively in front of her.

“Don’t even think of saying what you are thinking Morrigan.”

And he was serious.

He was not letting her or really any of them make Elain the villain of the story. That is not what she deserved.

“I can’t believe you Azriel. You are standing up for someone you’ve known for what? A couple years?”

She was exasperated as if this was an insult to her dignity.

“While your fucking mate is out there giving up her life?” She cried out.

His heart clenched and he felt like he couldn’t breathe at that thought. But he had to push it down, ignore it as he tried not to think of y/n when he said his next words.

“If you haven’t noticed already Mor, I actually care for Elain-“ and he seeked out Elain’s hand from behind him “-and I am not letting any of you put this blame on her. This is all on me and I-“ he looked around everyone “-I need some time with Elain first. I know all of you feel obligated to have a say in this, but truly, out of everyone, this effects mine and Elain’s life the most. So if you’ll excuse us.”

He didn’t wait for any responses as he took Elain, who still didn’t say a word about all of this, to a tent nearby. He had to get them some privacy for what he was going to do next.

When he pushed open the tent he was met by the sight of some healing supplies and some stretchers. Damnit did he choose a healing tent? He had to be fast so that no one interrupted them.

When he turned towards Elain, she still hasn’t uttered a word. So with his finger, he gently lifted up her chin to look directly into her eyes.

And seeing the hurt glimmering in them broke him, but he knew that he had to do this. In his mind and heart he had already decided, but when seeing how tears were silently streaming down her face it made it way difficult for him to voice out his thoughts.

“Elain…”

She clenched her eyes shut and let out a small cry. He quickly pulled her to his chest.

“I am so sorry my dear. I- I had no control over anything. You have to understand that.”

He whispered in her hair while she clung to him.

The next part, however, was going to be hard for him.

“Elain, look at me please.”

As he pulled away from her he saw her tear stricken face.

“I- I have made a decision for myself.” And Elain looked up at him with wonder, shining eyes glistening from all the tears, lips wobbling from holding back her sob.

“I didn’t expect the bond to snap, ever for me. All my life I had waited for my mate to come, all my life I had wished for my other half to complete me, I had yearned for it that it got to a point where I got obsessed with it.”

He noticed her listening to him attentively while tears were streaming down towards her lips. He wiped them off with his thumb.

“But all that wait could only bring me to a certain point in life. So when I saw how my brothers found their mates back to back, I saw how easy it was for them, to find their mates. A-and it got me thinking that if I was actually destined to have one it should’ve already snapped for me too-“ he whispered the last part and shifted on his feet.

“-so I gave up on it. Gave up on my wishful dream of having a mate. I realized that I did not deserve to have one, because why would others get their mates so easily while I was desperately yearning for one.. you have to understand Elain.. over 400 years I waited for her to arrive,

now imagine what that does with one.”

Elain looked at the ground and sniffed, but still, she stayed silent. So Azriel continued.

“But then you came, and I thought that maybe… maybe I could allow myself to try this with you. And I really did Elain, I fell for you, for your charms and witty words that only I got to see.” He wanted to cup her face, but quickly decided against it.

“I imagined what a future for both of us could look like and I was content with it. But you have to know that.. that there was still quite a hollowness in me.”

He closed his eyes and whispered

“I really tried to ignore it, because I really liked you and I wanted to allow myself a shot at happiness… I was and am happy with you Elain.”

“And I knew that with Lucien being your mate, the bond could never snap between us. So I had to make a decision for myself. If I was okay with accepting a future without a mate. Without the one person I have wanted so desperately for all my life.”

He looked at Elain with despair, he waited for her to say something, to speak out what he was afraid of. But she still refused to speak.

“So when the bond between me and her snapped I- I felt like everything that I had build was crushed again. It was like a slap to my face, a way of the Mother saying that I should’ve never given up, because when I was finally okay with the idea of not having a mate, the Mother offered her to me. Right before she was giving up on her life. As if it was a punishment for my impatience.” and his voice was shaking at that last part.

“I want you to know that I don’t regret ever meeting you, our time together is something I cherish. But I have to stay truthful and be honest with you. And myself.”

And Elain started to cry again as Azriel also felt tears forming in his eyes.

“I know that I cannot continue living when I know that my mate is out there fighting for her life. How could I? When…-“

and he closed his eyes for this next part

“-when she is all I ever wanted in my life.”

He whispered as he heard her gasp. He knew that this admission would hurt her, but he had no other choice.

“So I have to go after her. I decided that for myself. I-.. I need to… because with every minute that she is away, with every minute that she is preparing for her death, a part of my soul is burning along with it.”

And he allowed himself to feel her side of the bond but quickly realized that she had closed it off. It ripped his heart out that it got to this point.

When Elain’s crying still continued, he was begging her at this point to respond to him.

“Please … say something.” He whispered and looked at her with hopeful eyes, he needed her to say something or else his heart would explode from anxiously waiting.

“Please … at least just-“ but he was interrupted by Elain’s timid voice.

“Azriel… I- I need to tell you something.”

And she looked him directly into his eyes.

He held her gaze and waited for her to continue.

But, suddenly the air in the room shifted and he became very much aware of how Elain’s form was shaking.

“I have been keeping something from you, but- but it is eating me alive and I … I just can’t bare its weight anymore.”

Her voice cracked at the last part.

And Azriel suddenly felt a cold shiver run over him, making the hair over his arms stand up.

What could she possibly want to say to him? After he bared his soul to her, after he told her that he would go after his mate.

Could it be… no?

Could she be- but he wasnt able to finish his thought as she continued.

“I am.. I am sorry Azriel. I-… when I told Rhysand that I saw how this was going to play out, I was only telling half the truth.. I you have to understand that I- I only wanted what’s best for you.”

“I am not following ‘lain what-“

“I saw your future Azriel.”

“Way before this. I-“

she broke off her sentence with another sob

“I saw you happy with her, I saw you with your children. You had a family with her Azriel.”

And the world stood still for him. Suddenly he became aware of his loud thumping heart and his cold fingertips. He heard no sound other than Elain’s heavy breaths and his rising heart rate.

He felt like she had just pushed a knife through his heart and with every word she was saying, the knife went deeper into his heart. What.

“So I-… I.. when I saw the vision of y/n leading the troops.. she actually wasn’t alone. You had decided to go with her.” He felt sick.

“And with that knowledge.. I was selfish, because I didn’t want to lose what we have, I didn’t want to lose you Azriel. I knew that if you had chosen to go with her then… then everything else would have also played out the way I saw it.” And she looked down on her boots, shame filling her.

“So I had to interfere… I had to stop you from going with her, because I saw you were actually about to. And it scared me, and-“

“So you mean to tell me that your interference may have also changed the other part you saw of my future?” he looked dead in her eyes. And she let out a sob and covered her mouth with her hand.

“So the children you saw-“

he felt like he was going to puke

“-oh god Elain-“

and the tears fell out of his eyes

“-you prevented them from ever existing…?” He gave her a horrified look, eyes wide, eyebrows furrowed into a horror stricken frown. It left her gaping at him

“I, I am not so sure about that part, I really don’t know Azriel, I.. am so sorry, I realize that I may have overstepped.. I…-“ but before she could finish Azriel held up a hand to silence her.

“So you willingly risked y/n’s life, knowing that.. knowing that she was my mate and that we’d have children in the future-“

“Az-“

“I am not done Elain!” He said in a sharp tone.

He- he couldn’t believe what he was hearing… couldn’t believe that Elain manipulated his fate. Couldn’t believe that the woman he loved would go this far just to be with him. It made him sick.

“In your vision you saw me fighting alongside her and surviving. So.. now that she went alone.. that also means...”

Elain’s silence was enough answer for him.

He- he was about to go insane. This was too much for him. Children. They had children. And the tears were now falling easily from his eyes as he gripped his hair with his hands.

“How could you… how could you keep this from me.” He tried to say between the cries he let out.

“I am sorry Azriel … I cannot tell you how sorry I am.” And she was crying along with him.

But Azriel ignored her as he tried to control his cries, his breath before he triggered another panic attack… no, he couldn’t afford that now, not now. He had to go after his mate, he- he couldn’t be too late right?

With that thought in mind he pulled himself together and gave Elain one last look. He wanted to say so many things, wanted to scream at her but he reminded himself that his mate may be standing on that battlefield all alone and scared as he was wasting his time with someone who had done nothing but lied to him.

Wordlessly, without sparing her a second glance, he tore out of the tent.

After all, it seemed to Elain, even with her interference, even if he loved her, Azriel still had chosen his mate. It had not mattered that she had played with fate, because in the end it still was y/n that he wanted.

And that thought alone made Elain break down again, alone and cold, in the stillness of the tent.

As Azriel rushed out the tent he felt a soothing sensation on his hands, slowly creeping up his arms and neck. His shadows.. after he got with Elain, they were barely there, only came when he needed them, but now… now they were back. And he felt a sudden burst of strength with that.

He was going to get his mate, whatever the cost.

—————————

As y/n was having a moment to herself, before everything escalated she closed her eyes. She tried to sense everything around her to calm herself. She heard the distant voices of men and women preparing for battle. The wind causing to rustle the leaves on the couple of trees around them.

She looked up with her face and opened her eyes to see the cobalt blue sky over her.

Such beautiful hues of blue, she thought. How she wished she could’ve seen the ocean right now. Heard its crashing waves on the coast. Smelled its salty but fresh scent. How she wished she could sit on the sand and just watch the waves in the distance.

And even if she didn’t want to, she thought of Azriel. Oh, beautiful Azriel. When she closed her eyes again she could just imagine him right before her, looking at her with that smile, slightly crooked and just so Azriel. She imagined his dimple popping up when he smiled, accompanied with his oh so soft gaze that it got her swooning just by imagining. She remembered his gentleness whenever he talked with her and suddenly also remembered his pain filled gaze when he saw her crying because of him.

She remembered him kissing Elain’s hands and, despite the bond snapping, still choosing her. And she thought to herself. She really didn’t held any resentment towards any of them. Not Azriel and not Elain.

Because if y/n had only tried harder before, tried to be straightforward with Azriel way before, everything might’ve turned out differently. But maybe it just wasn’t meant to be, maybe she was only meant to live and die with an unrequited love.

And she didn’t want to think in that way, but the bond snapping for them? It really didn’t make any sense, because what was the point other than breaking her even more and complicating things for Azriel as well.

It must be hard for him too, because even if he loved Elain, his soul was still connected to hers.

And now she just felt guilty, but before she could dwell on it any more, she opened her eyes again and saw in the distance, black dots of what looked like to be Hybern’s army. It was time.

Y/n pulled herself together, sucked in a deep breath and walked towards the building mass of soldiers standing and waiting for her in several rows. Those were a lot of people.. but she knew that in comparison to the enemy they were definitely the minority.

She was going to lead them, they’d stand under her responsibility. So she’d be damned if she didn’t give her best and showed them her determination .

As she walked towards them she felt a chill run down her back, as an unsettling silence settled and every single one of them stared at her with an unwavering gaze.

She stopped where Adonis stood in front of the troops. He threw her a quick glance and muttered in a deep voice

“You better make this right girl.” and turned around to also stay in the same row as the soldiers.

Then, only then, y/n allowed herself to glance over everyone who stood in front of her.

Warriors of all age and sex, color and race, were aligned in multiple rows that stretched out from the far left where Farlan stood until the far right where she saw Iris looking at her. An eerie silence was all that was left, everyone anticipating what she had to say.

She rested her face and made an unwavering expression, as if she wanted to tell them and reassure them of her dependability, her confidence. And then with a loud, powerful but steady voice

“Warriors of Prythian!”

“I am about to announce our final attack against the enemies of our homeland!” And she clenched her jaw.

“We will charge right forward, where-“

and she pointed her finger to her back, right at the spot where Hybern’s army was marching towards them

“-you see the enemy. We will move forward as one unit and hope to be encased by them so that-“

and she heard some gasps at that

“-so that our other troops on the Southern, Western and Northern side, with the High Lords, can charge at them from behind in a surprise attack-“

and slowly but surely she saw realization hit the most of them, as their gazes shifted to uncertainty, fear and shock.

Some of them looked at their base commanders to search their eyes for confirmation, but they didn’t move an inch and continued to emanate the same conviction.

“-and therefore surround them from all sides.”

No one uttered a word and a heavy and oppressive silence settled around them. But then, someone from the rows came forward and dared to ask what everyone else thought

“So you are telling us… to ultimately ride to our own deaths? Am I understanding this right?”

And y/n blinked at the man, not much older than Feyre, and said with a firm tone

“You are absolutely correct.”

And there someone to her right side fell to their knees and emptied their stomach on the stomped grass in front of them.

The male looked at her with absolute horror then, and she wandered her gaze to the others. They didn’t seem to be reacting any differently. Y/n felt the sweat rolling down her spine but she didn’t make any of her nerves visible on her face, as she continued to maintain a certain cold indifference.

“And since we are dying anyway, you are saying… that it is better dying while fighting till our last breaths…?”

And y/n turned to him again and with an unwavering gaze

“Yes I am.”

And with a trembling voice and a small forming smile, while tears were burning his eyes he continued

“..but if we are going to die anyway, it wouldn’t matter what we do, right? … we … we could also just disobey your orders and it wouldn’t mean a thing would it..” and he looked at her with shiny almost hopeful eyes.

“You are absolutely right.”

And his face fell at that as his mouth began shaking.

“Every belief you held dear, every dream, every hope, every fleeting moment of joy…”

“…it all becomes meaningless as you lay dying on the cold, unforgiving battlefield.”

and she pointed towards the enemy once more

“We all die.” She promised no sweet talk but her utmost honesty.

She took a step closer and grabbed the boy by his armor as she told him, loud enough, so that everyone could hear

“Does that mean our lives hold no value? That there was no purpose to our existence?” she asked, her gaze locking with his.

“…And what of our comrades who gave their all on the battlefield? Would you dare say their lives were meaningless as well?”

And he dared to look right back in her eyes. She felt Iris’ tearful gaze on her as she acknowledged her with a courteous nod.

So as y/n pushed him back in his row and turned to everyone else again, she said, with utmost conviction.

“They were not! Their memories stand as a beacon for us all!”

“The brave have fallen—” she said, pacing to the right, her voice steady.

“The broken have fallen—” she continued, stepping to the left, her presence commanding. The unit’s eyes following her, wide with awe.

“Their lives have meaning because we, the living, vow never to forget them!”

Returning to the center, she stood tall, her voice ringing with unwavering assurance as she declared:

“And as we charge toward our inevitable deaths, we trust that those who come after us will honor us the same.”

And she realized that as she continued talking, they were starting to look up, conviction burning in their faces.

“Because my soldiers stand strong and unbroken in the face of this world’s cruelties!”

“So we will charge with utmost honor and pride and sacrifice ourselves as we wished others would’ve done the same for us!”

“Now collect your weapons, as they will serve as your best comrades for what is to come. And fight- not for glory, but for the honor of those who stand beside you and those who will come after!”

For a moment an overwhelming silence fell over the soldiers, their eyes wide as they took in the weight of her words and she almost got anxious that her speech had the complete opposite effect on them as she had intended, but then, as if stirred by some unseen force, a deafening roar exploded from their ranks, shaking the ground beneath them.

As she looked around and saw even Adonis’ gaze filled with awe, y/n knew that she had done the right thing. So she allowed her face to stretch into a little smile as she clenched her hand into a fist, raised it to the sky and screamed along with them.

But that uproar didn’t held on for long as she sensed it before seeing it.

Her heart rate picked up and she felt a calming presence land behind her with a thud that it forced the troops in front of her into silence.

When a mix of a woody and night-mist scent hit her nostrils, her tears were instantly forming in her eyes and gone was her facade of strength.

She didn’t dare turn around even as she heard the approaching steps.

And when the first shadow brushed against her skin she couldn’t hold it anymore and swiftly turned around and-

And there-

In all his glory, his tall posture and composure, he stood in front of her with a crooked smile and gentle eyes as he looked at her, the wind brushing his soft hair back as it exposed more of his beautiful face, clear defined, and a dark tone, making his freckles from the distance almost invisible. And his eyes conveyed so many unspoken words that it almost seemed like they yearned for her, yearned to drink up everything that was her.

With clear determination he strode over to her and y/n’s heart almost leaped out of her chest as she felt his burning gaze on her, on every little movement of her.

When he stopped in front of her, only a breath separating them, y/n still stayed unmoving.

He opened his mouth and she quickly realized how she followed his every move, how she stared at his beautifully tinted lips.

She waited with anticipation to hear his dark velvety voice again, was desperate for his voice to shake her in her core. She let out ragged breaths and almost felt pathetic if it wasn’t for that crooked smile accompanying his voice

“If you keep looking at me like that I am going to lose it in front all of them my love.”

And she wanted to cry, wanted to hit him, scream at him, kiss him, and scold him all at once but settled on just asking him in a small whisper.

“..Why are you here?”

And she looked at him with wide glistening eyes, flustered, as she waited for his response.

And his eyes softened as he looked at her as though she were the very center of his universe.

“Because I realized that a life without you would be an empty existence-“

and her lips started shaking and the first tears were streaming down her eyes

“-because y/n-“

and his shaking hand cupped her right cheek as his thumb wiped off her tears and soothed her skin

“-I’d rather fall on the battlefield, sharing those final moments with you, than face a life where you no longer exist in it.”

————————————

A quick a/n: I am not really satisfied with how this turned out but I hope you’ll forgive my mistakes, as I really tried to rush this because the ideas were floating all in my head and before forgetting them I had to write them down so yeah, I hope this turned out at least a tiny bit like how you imagined <33 & again I appreciate every single one of you, your likes, reblogs and comments 🥺🫶🏼

I don’t know how many parts I’ll do but this is definitely not the end ;)

Taglist:

@kingshitonly @phoenix666stuff @blackgirlmagicforever @dragonsandrinks

@daughterofthemoons-stuff @tele86 @isa1b2h3 @curlyhairkk @jencole214 @willowpains @thestartitaness @romantasyreader28 @highladyofhogwarts @wrenisrad @minaaminaa8 @meritxellao @blepskies

@venuseuripedis @onebadassunicorn-blog @cleverzonkwombatsludge @atomictyphoonkitten @angiieguevara @thegoddessofnothingness @lilah-asteria

@makershoe @annaaaaa88 @saltedcoffeescotch @rcarbo1 @salvatoresister1 @historygeekqueen @fuyukonikiforova @donnadiddadog @becstersworld @batboyslutt @giovax

@rahdaleigh @cherryjain17

#azriel angst #azriel x you #azriel x yn #azriel imagine #azriel x reader #azriel #acotar angst #acotar imagine #acotar x you #acotar x reader #acotar #fated mates #farewellmylove #azriel shadowsinger

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aligned-starz · 1 year ago

Text

Crying in the Courtyard - Theodore Nott

⋆｡°✩Pairing : theodore nott x fem!reader

Warnings : fluff/light angst, happy ending, use of y/n

Summary : reader finds something out about her crush.

Song : Crying In the Chapel - Elvis Presley⋆｡°✩

Word Count : 2,210

"So, did you find out? Is he seeing someone?" You gushed in a hushed tone, fisting your Slytherin friend's robes in your hand as you pulled her in, anxious to hear what she has to say.

"Y/n! Calm down, you're going to rip off my bloody buttons. But yes, I did hear something from Blaise." Pansy Parkinson, a friend you hadn't expected to make, replied with a sigh, her expression mirroring your own anxiety. You held your breath, waiting for her next words, knowing deep down that your suspicions were about to be confirmed.

"Y/n..." She trails off, looking for words to explain the news. You met her eyes, a small realization dawning that your suspicions had been correct.

"I'm sorry. There was talk in the air that Theodore had been seeing someone, and Blaise confirmed it for me," Pansy started, her voice tinged with sympathy as she glanced away, almost as if she was shielding her eyes from your reaction. "Says that he's crushing on a girl, and we believe it to be Daphne."

Your heart sank as her words registered, but another thought flashed in your mind. Blaise, with his charming smile and smooth demeanor, had always seemed to have an affinity for Daphne. You couldn't help but wonder if his confirmation of Theodore's crush was influenced by his own feelings for her.

"Greengrass? Doesn't Blaise like Daphne Greengrass?"

Your curiosity sparked, and a deep longing for an answer, an answer that may prove that there's still a chance that Nott could be yours.

"Yes, he does. And Daphne likes another Slytherin boy, like Theo. The two have been teased before, but they had previously mentioned that they're just friends. Maybe something had developed? Theodore also mentioned that the girl he liked may have liked him as well, and Blaise saw them laughing together after class. So, if we connect the information together.."

Your heart felt as though as it had been hollowed out as Pansy dropped the bombshell. Theodore Nott, the enigma that had captured your thoughts and dreams, was supposedly entangled in a relationship. You leaned against the hall wall, the cold stone offering little solace as you tried to process the news, mind full with a whirlwind of confusion and hurt.

"I'm truly sorry, Y/n," Pansy's voice softened, her usually sharp features softening with genuine sympathy. "I was really rooting for the two of you to become a thing."

Her eyes, normally filled with a mischievous glint, now held a hint of sadness as she spoke, as if she shared in your disappointment. It was a rare moment of vulnerability from Pansy, one that made you realize just how much she valued your friendship.

As Pansy's voice faded into the background, you found yourself lost in a sea of memories, each one a painful reminder of what could have been. You remembered the stolen glances and whispered conversations, the moments shared between the two of you that had ignited a spark of something more, moments where you couldn't take your eyes off one another.

Maybe it was all in your head? It was only you who felt that way. No, he had felt that way for a different girl, not just any girl, Daphne Greengrass. You could never compare, oh how foolish you felt.

"Y/n, are you alright?" She placed a hand on your shoulder, bringing you back from your thoughts. You looked up at her, tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

"Yes, I'm ok. I expected this, so.." Your eyebrows furrowed in anger, anger at yourself for falling so stupidly.

Before Pansy could see you break down, you decided to leave. You feel so stupid for feeling like this, and you couldn't have someone else see you like this.

"I've got class so um, thank you Pansy." You stammered and started to walk away from the girl, leaving her confused and concerned.

As the day wore on, Y/n found herself struggling to maintain her composure. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes at the most inconvenient moments, like droplets of rain in a storm. In Potions class, she buried her face in her textbook, pretending to study as she blinked back the tears that blurred her vision. Tears all caused by the boy who sat at the back of the class, who she refused to even spare a glance at now. But the ache in her chest only intensified with each passing moment, a relentless reminder of the pain she could not escape.

So she stood up abruptly in class, her sudden movement capturing Snape's attention like a disturbance in the otherwise calm atmosphere.

"Do you need a moment, Ms. L/n?" his voice was cold and clipped, his gaze piercing as he scrutinized her.

Y/n met his gaze, her eyes watery but determined. She nodded silently, not daring to speak as she fought to control the storm of emotions raging within her. Snape's expression remained impassive, a faint hint of impatience flickering in his eyes as he waited for her response.

"Take all the time you need," he said curtly, his tone dismissive as he turned his attention back to his lesson.

"Thank you, professor." With a heavy heart, Y/n nodded once more, her resolve hardening in the face of his indifference. With one last glance at her teacher, she turned on her heel and strode out of the classroom, leaving behind a lingering sense of unease in her wake.

Theodore Nott, who had been witnessing the whole situation, was confused beyond belief. She was alright this breakfast, she had been chattering and smiling beautifully as usual with her friends. What made her so distressed? So distressed to the point she wouldn't even spare a glance in his way?

The boy raised his hand, ignoring the looks from his friends, and excused himself from class. Though Snape's questioning gaze unsettled him, he was free to go. And the moment that Snape had nodded, the boy was off running after the girl of his dreams.

Finally, she reached the courtyard, her sanctuary amidst the chaos of her emotions. Leaning against the cold stone wall, she allowed herself to surrender to her grief. Each soft sob echoed off the walls, a symphony of heartache that seemed to consume her entirely.

Lost in her misery, she didn't hear the approaching footsteps until it was too late. She hastily wiped away her tears, trying to compose herself as she heard someone round the corner.

"Y/n?"

She froze, all the blood draining from her face at the recognition of his voice.

From all the people that could have seen her at a state like this, why did it have to be him? She felt a weight of dread as his presence lingered from behind her.

She slowly turned around, looking at Theo through her red puffed-up eyes. His eyes softened and he kneeled down to sit beside her, his expression filled with concern and something else, something she couldn't quite decipher.

"Tesoro? Are you alright?" His voice was gentle, a soothing melody amidst the chaos of her thoughts.

Forcing a smile, she nodded weakly, unable to meet his gaze. "I'm fine, Theodore. Just... just a bit tired. It's been a bad day."

But he wasn't fooled by her facade. Stepping closer, he tilted his head at the sight of how broken-hearted you looked, and in his own chest, he felt a pang of pain. "You don't have to pretend with me, Y/n. I can see that something's wrong."

The vulnerability in his eyes shattered the last of her resolve, and she broke down before him, the truth tumbling from her lips in a rush of emotion. "The boy I like... he doesn't like me back," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper as she stared down at her hands, unable to meet Theodore's gaze.

The pang in Theodore's heart deepened, now with a mix of jealousy and seething anger. Who would make such a warm and bella ragazza, cry like this?

"Well, that's his loss," Theodore said, his tone casual yet tinged with a hint of something deeper. "Because if it were up to me, I'd never let someone as incredible as you slip through my fingers."

Y/n's eyes widened in astonishment, her heart skipping a beat at his words. "Theodore..." she began, her voice barely a whisper.

Y/n couldn't help but glance at him, a mixture of confusion and curiosity in her eyes. "You think so?" she asked, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

Nott leaned in closer, his breath ghosting over her ear as he whispered, "Of course. Anyone who can't see how incredible you are doesn't deserve you."

He pulled away to look into her eyes, bringing his hand up to wipe away the stubborn tear that fell from her eye.

"Do you remember that time when I was feeling so lost and alone?" he began, his fingers tracing delicate patterns on her cheek. "I tried to push you away, but you refused to leave my side. You stayed with me, even when I didn't deserve it. You're such a kind and loving soul, your soul made mine feel love again like it had never felt before."

Before she could dwell on the thought, He continued as he cupped her face with his hand, his tone growing more teasing with each word. "And besides, if this boy doesn't appreciate you, then he's clearly not worth your time," he declared, a mischievous glint dancing in his stormy eyes. "I mean, he must be pretty stupid to let someone like you cry tears of heartbreak. Che idiota è quel ragazzo."

Y/n couldn't help but laugh at his playful jab, the tension between them easing as she felt the weight of Theodore's words lift from her shoulders. In that moment, surrounded by his warmth and the teasing sparkle in his eyes, she dared to believe that perhaps, just perhaps, he had loved her back.

"There it is, that beautiful smile," Theo remarked, his heart swelling at the sight of her radiant expression. He couldn't help but feel a surge of affection as he watched the way her cheeks popped out when she laughed, prompting him to playfully pinch one with his hand as he joined in her laughter.

But as the symphony of their laughter faded into a comfortable silence, Theodore found himself unable to tear his gaze away from hers. His eyes wandered down to her lips, drawn like a magnet to their soft curve, and he felt a familiar warmth spreading through him, igniting a longing he couldn't ignore.

In that lingering moment of silent connection, Theodore's heart pounded in his chest, his breath catching as he felt an irresistible pull towards her. Without a second thought, he leaned in closer, his lips gently brushing against hers in a tender, hesitant kiss.

Time seemed to stand still as the world fell away around them, leaving only the sensation of her lips against his, sending sparks of electricity coursing through his veins. In that stolen moment, all doubts and fears melted away, replaced by an overwhelming rush of emotion as Theodore finally dared to seize the opportunity he had longed for.

And as he deepened the kiss, his fingers tangling in her hair, Theodore knew with absolute certainty that he had found where he belonged – in the embrace of the one who had captured his heart from the very beginning.

"Wait wait!" Y/n mumbled against his lips, pulling away with a concerned look upon her face. He looked up at her in regret, a fear that the kiss didn't feel the same for her made him gulp.

"What about Daphne?"

The regret on his face morphed into confusion.

"What about.. Daphne?" He repeated.

"Yeah, aren't you guys like a thing?" She hesitated, searching for answers in his eyes as she furrowed her eyebrows and wrapped her arms around herself uncomfortably.

"What? Daphne likes Blaise."

"Daphne likes Blaise." She repeated, a small smile forming upon her face at the realization.

"Wait, how about you? Who's the boy you said that didn't like you back?"

Y/n laughed out at the realization, ignoring Theo's confused face which made her laugh even more. Butterflies danced in her stomach at the feeling of relief, the joy she felt making her heart beat quickly.

"You! Nott, you were the boy who didn't like me back! Blaise told Pansy that you and Daphne were a thing!" She watched his face for a reaction, and at first he was still confused, but as he realized, his mouth was agape as he said "Ah."

The two soon shared their laughter again, Theo apologizing for the tears he had accidentally made her cry, "All along I was the fool who made you cry," he admitted, his tone soft yet tinged with regret. "I'm sorry, il mio tesoro, if only I had known. How can I make it up to you?"

A playful smirk danced on his lips as he pulled her in closer, his gaze drifting down to her grinning lips.

"I don't know if you can ever make it up to me, Nott. You hurt me pretty bad." She playfully said, wiping away her already dried tears. "Well actually maybe, you can start by kissing me again, you fool."

With a chuckle, Theodore leaned in, capturing her lips in a sweet and passionate kiss, knowing in that moment that he had finally found where he belonged – in the arms of the one who had stood by him through tears and laughter, through every trial and triumph.

⋆｡°✩

Hi! This is my first ever upload on tumblr, so it may not be perfect but hey who cares I got inspired by a personal experience! If you notice any grammatical mistakes, no you didn't. Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! xx

[my masterlist⋆｡°✩]

#theo nott #theodore nott x reader #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys #theodore nott x you #theodore nott imagine #theo nott imagine #theodore nott #fanfiction #fluff #light angst #theodore nott oneshot #theo nott x y/n #slytherin #harry potter #oneshot

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justauthoring · 1 month ago

Text

More Than You'd Think.

Summary: Surely, you were just some random daughter of some random employee of Sylus'. And surely that meant Sylus thought nothing of you. But, when faced with danger, you learn just how wrong you are.

Pairing: Qin Che / Sylus x F!Reader (not MC!)

Word Count: 2,849

A/N: Some angst and then fluff to make us all feel better :)

TW. attempted sexual assault, violence and brief mention of death (not reader or sylus)

"My father will be right out."

"Thank you... Y/N."

Your gasp is barely concealed, a soft shutter leaving your lips as you glance up to meet Sylus' eyes. He's already staring down at you, his usual air of confidence obvious as he stands before you with his shoulders held high. There's a small smirk on his lips, while his heavy-lidded gaze stays focused on you.

You make a strong effort to remain strong, but you hadn't the slightest clue Sylus, the leader of Onychinus and your father's boss, had any idea who you were. Let alone your name.

It's not like this is the first time either of you have spoken but any conversation between the two of you has never been any of subtance. More often then not, it was you telling him you'd fetch your father and him humming in response.

You don't miss the slight quirk of his lips as you react to that realization, shifting on your feet. "You're welcome, sir," you offer, lightly bowing your head.

Despite your shock, you're not foolish enough to think that Sylus knowing your name means anything. Your father has been working under Sylus for a long time and therefore, you're fully aware of the power that Sylus holds in the N109 zone.

Not to mention, you've grown up in the N109 zone you're entire life. You're fully aware of how dangerous people like Sylus are, even without your father's warnings.

"Please," Sylus offers after a short moment of silence. His voice is light as you meet his gaze, and the smirk has softened to something a little more sincere. "Call me Sylus, Y/N."

You're sure you're hallucinating what's happening in that moment. Because there's no way the leader of Onychinus is allowing some random daughter of one of his men call him by his first name.

Surely, you're going crazy.

"O-Oh," you find yourself stumbling over your words. You're not even sure what it is you're trying to say as you're saying it. "Well, th-then, um, Sylus--"

"--Sir!"

Halted at the sound of your father's voice, both you and Sylus' attention is shifted behind you. Your father comes rushing to the front of the office, looking out of breath and panicked.

"My apologies," he breathes, offering a bow. "I did not mean to take so long."

Sylus waves him off with a simple gesture of his hand. "It's fine," he assures with ease, "shall we?"

He gestures back towards the direction your father came from, the warehouse in which your father has set up what Sylus had come for today. Knowing that you're presence is no longer needed, you step back, with the intetion of moving towards the front desk.

"Y/N," your father calls, making you pause. You try to ignore the way Sylus' noticeable gaze falls on you in response, focusing on your father. "I need you to go pick up a package for me. Davie should have them ready and I'll need them for tomorrow."

Nodding, you change your direction, heading to grab your coat. "Sure thing, dad."

You expect that to be that, distantly hearing your father call for Sylus to follow him. Yet, once again, you're stopped by a voice; this time, Sylus.

"You'd send your daughter to grab a package on her own?"

Lips parting, you spin back to Sylus, confused. By the expression on your fathers face, he's just as confused.

"Y-Yes, sir," your father nods, obviously unsure of why Sylus cares. "Y/N often gets packages for me. It's... too hard for me to make the trip anymore."

Sylus frowns. "Surely you realize how unsafe it is for someone like your daughter to be walking through the N109 zone alone."

Your father seems stunned. To be fair, so are you. But, to save your father from stumbling over his words and making a fool of himself, you decide to brave Sylus' weirdly placed concern.

"It's alright, sir--Sylus," you assure, offering a gentle smile. "I've done it plenty of times. And I can protect myself if needed."

Sylus looks skeptical, his eyes running across your figure as his face twists in... concern? You're not sure and it's too much for you to even try and begin thinking about, so you choose not to. With another reassuring, polite smile, you finish pulling your coat on and step towards the door.

"I'll be back in a bit, dad," you smile at your father, before turning to Sylus. "Good luck with your meeting." You offer a short bow in response, and with that, you make your way out, unaware of Sylus' gaze that follows you.

Or, the pair of dark black eyes that follow you the second you step outside.

"Thank you, Davie. I'll make sure my father knows about the hiccup with the order."

"You're welcome there, Y/N." Davie smiles at you, "you sure you'll be okay heading home? I didn't think I'd keep you that long."

You just smile, brushing him off. "Not to worry, Davie. I'll be fine. It's a short walk."

Davie only hesitates a moment longer before nodding, offering you one final wave as you turn to make your walk home.

As you make your way back home, you pull your coat closer around yourself, keeping your eyes peeled around you in case of anything. You'd brushed it off to Davie, but realistically you were a little nervous walking home when it was already this dark out.

You hadn't expected the favour for your father to take that long, and you can't help but think about what Sylus had said before you'd left. It wasn't like you had thought he was wrong, but you'd been assured by the daylight and the fact that you had grown up in the N109 zone all your life.

Danger was something you were used to. It didn't mean it didn't frighten you though.

Your hand holds the small knife you carry with you at all times tightly, trying to hum quietly to yourself as you walk, pace fast.

You can't help but let your mind wander to how hard Sylus behaviour had been earlier that day. You weren't sure how the man treated other daughters of his employees, but you convince yourself he probably just had some sort of gentleman code he upheld. Sure he was the leader of a dangerous gang, didn't mean he was terrible in all aspects.

He'd never been anything but kind to you, even if conversations had been brief. Your father running behind today had just presented him the opportunity to speak more, and if anything, he'd just done it out of kindness.

His concern about you walking through the N109 zone alone? That was probably just because of the well-known knowledge of how dangerous N109 was and the fact that if anything happened to you, it would impact your fathers work.

Which would impact Sylus.

Yeah. That had to be it.

Shaking your head of silly thoughts, you take a sharp left, only to pause at the sight of a shadow up ahead. You instantly stop, feeting freezing beneath you, as you stare at the figure. You can't quite make out distinguishable features, but the build is clearly that of a man.

For a long, silent moment, the both of you stand there. Then, he steps forward.

You instantly step back, only to hear approach footsteps behind you. Your head snaps to the left, heart falling to the pit of your stomach when you see a man heading your way. A look to your right tells you another man is coming from that way too.

Breath hitching in panic, your eyes widen as a voice calls out;

"Well, hello there, pretty lady."

It's the man in front of you that calls it out, voice sickeningly sweet and promising nothing good. Feeling your body start to shake, you grip your knife tighter with your right hand, your left holding the pack and take a step back.

The man in front of you steps into the light, letting you see the lecherious grin on his face.

Swallowing thickly, you eye him for one long moment before turning around and breaking out into a run. You make it only a few steps before you feel a hand grab your shoulder, yanking you back. You don't waste a second, pulling the knife out from your coat pocket and swinging it at the man.

He dodges it, barely, but then the two other men reach you. They flank you on either side, and your arm swings out wildly, package falling to the ground with a bang as you let out a cry.

You manage to knick one of the men on the arm, him crying out in pain in response. It causes him to stumble back, giving you a bit of reprieve to try and break free. You strengthen your efforts into attacking with your knife, trying to ignore the fear radiating through your body and focus on the fight rather than flight.

But then, the man who you'd seen first, manages to grab your wrist. His grip pinches, fingers digging into your wrist as you try to pull your hand away.

"Stop!" You bellow, "no!"

It's useless. The men are stronger than you, especially with the two of them. And it doesn't go beyond your notice that the one you'd stabbed is getting back up too.

The two men overpower you, squeezing your wrist hard enough something pops and the knife clatters to the ground, leaving you completely defenceless.

Your arms are grabbed, body yanked forward until you're pressed against a wall. Pain radiates from your back where you're slammed up against the brick wall, a groan leaving your lips. It doesn't stop you, though, your hands striking out to push the man off of you.

"Fucking bitch," the one you'd stabbed bellows, striking you across the cheek. The punch stings, and you're sure your cheek is a bright pink as a result.

"This could've been so much easier for you," one of the men huffs at you, grabbing you by the chin to pull your gaze on him. "If you'd just submitted like a good girl."

Ignoring the rapid race of your heart, you narrow your eyes at him. "Fuck off."

Face twisting in anger, he grabs the wrist they'd sprained earlier, slamming it against the wall as you scream out in pain. It throbs in pain, strength leaving you as you try to fight back the tears that threaten to fall.

Your other wrist is pressed against the wall as well, and then something glints in your gaze.

"Now, stop fighting us or we'll really hurt you."

Eyeing the knife, the first tear slips past your defences, your vision blurring as your eyes water. It occurs to you then you really won't be able to fight your way out of this. Your only weapon had been taken from you and now you were the one with a weapon held against you.

"That clear?"

Swallowing thickly, you nod, inhaling sharply.

"Good," the man holding the knife grins. "Let's get started then."

A whimper leaves your lips as he steps towards you. His two henchman, one of them being the one you'd stabbed, hold you against the wall, grips never relenting as the main one stops in front of you. He drags the tip of the knife across your cheek, your body trembling as he continues down across the length of your neck until he reaches the collar of your blouse.

It occurs to you then that in your scuffle, you'd lost your coat.

"Please," you find yourself begging, bravo gone in face of your vulnerability. "Please don't."

"Too late, pretty lady," the one you'd stabbed leers at you. "We're going to make sure it hurts."

Letting out a sob, you weakly try to break free. It's useless.

The sound of buttons popping is all you hear as you squeeze your eyes shut, feeling the cold air hit your bare skin. The main man cuts away at your blouse like it's nothing, until you find your entire upper half bare, with nothing but your bra covering your modesty.

Sniffling, you feel your muscles freeze the second you feel lips press against your skin. The men lean into you, as if breathing you in, as you feel like you might throw up.

"Let's get this bra off," one of the men breathes against your neck.

You feel fingers slip underneath the strap of your bra and your breath hitches.

And then, you hear a cry of pain.

It startles you, eyes snapping open in confusion. For a second, you're not sure if you're the one who cried out in pain. But then, you realize that the man with the knife is no longer in front of you.

The men holding you seem just as confused, but before either of them can do anything, the one you'd stabbed is swept up in a mist of red and black and knocked back. He goes flying, your eyes widening as he lands againts the ground a few feet away from you, landing right on the shoulder you'd stabbed.

In the next second, the same mist takes the one to your right and sends him flying similarly.

You fall to your knees in an instant, legs giving out beneath you as you hold your throbbing wrist to your chest. You're terrified and baffled, not understanding what's happened.

And then, your answer steps in front of you.

Sylus steps in front of you, his gaze soft as he stares down at you. As he crouches in front of you, he's taking his jacket off of his shoulders and moving to wrap it around you. He's careful, making sure you know he means no harm as he covers you.

"S-Sylus?"

Your voice comes out small, broken. Sylus just shakes his head.

"Give me one second, Y/N. Then I'll get you out of here."

He stands back up, turning towards the scattered men on the ground before you. He instantly makes his way towards the main guy, towering over his cowering figure.

It seems Sylus' power really is something that precedes him.

As you sit there, pressed against the wall and cradling Sylus' jacket, it doesn't escape your attention that Sylus does more than just hurt the guy who'd held a knife to you. His other two henchman are hurt more by Sylus, but left for the two men who'd been standing back quietly waiting for Sylus' que. As Sylus turns back to you, he sends a nod at them.

It's clear what that means.

"Can I touch you?"

Blinking, you meet Sylus' gaze. He stares down at you, gaze soft and reassuring, making sure to keep his distance so as not to scare you.

Slowly, you nod.

Sylus doesn't take you back home.

Cradled in his arms, Sylus carries you all the way back to his place. When you quietly ask him about your father, he assures you that his men will inform your father of your whereabouts. You don't argue more than that.

Now, in Sylus' living room, you're wearing one of his shirts and sat on his couch while he bandages your wrist.

You've been otherwise silent until that moment, still startled and not really sure what to say. Sylus doesn't pressure you either.

But as you watch him finish bandaging your wrist, you find yourself speaking up.

"How did you know?"

Sylus glances up at your question, raising a brow as he meets your gaze. "Mephisto," he expains, using his head to gesture to his right. You follow his direction, eyes falling on the crow perched on a table across from you. "I can see through him."

You nod, even though you don't fully understand.

"I'm sorry it took me so long to get there," Sylus breathes. "They shouldn't have even been able to touch you."

Blinking, you stare down at him. "Why do you care?"

Sylus, to your surprise, seems shocked by your question. His eyes widen briefly, lips parting and it's the first time you've seen him unsure.

"Why wouldn't I care?"

"I'm just the daughter of one of your employees," you remind, shaking your head. "I'm nobody."

Leaning forward, Sylus shakes his head. "You could never be nothing." Then, pausing, he sighs. "I've... tried to make my affections for you obvious, but clearly I wasn't obvious enough."

Eyes widening, you blink back at him.

"You're not just some daughter, Y/N." Reaching forward, he slips his hand into your not sprained one, threading his fingers through yours and squeezing. "And no one will ever hurt you again."

The tears that well in your eyes are out of your control. As your lips begins to tremble, you stare down at Sylus.

"I was so scared."

You're pulled into his arms, head pressed against his chest as he envelopes you completely. Despite everything, the touch doesn't scare you. Instead, it fills you with an overwhelming sense of safety and assurance.

You let yourself fall into Sylus' embrace, clutching onto him.

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