#i think this awoke something in me LMAO

[shy-writer-999]

tbh ive been thinking long and hard about the idea of like, ace or sabo (since you do him) or zoro, whoever fits, realizing their s/o has a Thing for roughhousing and manhandling and just general shows of effortless strength, and being stupidly smug and knowing about it or something. s/o gets picked up with one arm and put to the side and has to press her thighs together bc Oh No That’s Hot while they just smirk or give a knowing look or something to that affect. idk i just Love the idea of it… forgive me if this isnt well put together im So Tired but i must Express This.

anon, I like how u think… this is low-hanging fruit for me ik but i literally cannot HELP but think of zoro when I read this. but I know ace and sabo would likewise be greatly amused by this (and then after amusement subsides, they’d be turned on, obvs)...

ace or sabo would scoop their S/O up with one arm and would be able to feel her shift/squirm the tiniest bit to press her thighs together because fuck that’s hot. he’d be all smug about it too and probably make some cocky comment like “I felt that” or “calm down, I just picked you up” and he’d roll his eyes but he’d be actually living for it. he’d DEF throw her around in bed if he figured out that she liked it that much. he’d use any excuse to throw her over his shoulder, too. he’d like to see his s/o get bright red and flustered about it. and I bet he’d tease her relentlessly. “oh, you really have a thing for manhandling, huh? c’mere and I’ll show you what that actually means” or “why do you get so hot and bothered over me just being strong?” or “what, you get that worked up when I pick you up like this?”

ugh, anon, I wish a man was throwing me around rn. like just imagine being thrown and SLAMMED into the bed by any of these three men 😞 universe, please, I BEG YOU.

[iphisesque]

microdosing on committing parricide by writing a play about committing parricide

[gladiatorcunt]

summary: aemond targaryen x afab childhood friend wife!reader

cw: intentional heavier valyrian usage (i used translators so if i’m wrong, please just pretend that i invented the language and i’m right), slight breath play-ish, reader isn’t related to aemond in any way (they’re just from a different royal family from elsewhere , visited as a kid and met aemond), pregnant!reader, the breeding and praise kinks aren’t explicitly stated but they’re more in his actions, flashback mention of teen aemond having a typical teen boy reaction and getting a boner bc he saw his crush bent over, aemond drinks reader’s breast milk like a vampire and cums, this au-ish storyline has been a long standing maladaptive daydream but this is just a kinktober post, stuck in the wall was also supposed to be included but i cheated and just mentioned it/same with the waxplay lmao, implied wax play later on, kinda unsafe and unrealistic sex (obviously), written with no thoughts

wc: 1.4k+

block & move on if uncomfortable !!

do not repost, translate, or give ai my works

kinktober masterlist

It’s been six moons since you discovered that you were with child. Your husband, Aemond Targaryen, had been smug beyond belief when the maester estimated that you conceived on your wedding night.

You were not prepared for how your body would transform in the coming months. You have to empty your bladder more often than not and a burning in your chest keeps you awake. One of the more annoying problems was the tremendous ache in your breasts.

Aemond awoke to your quiet groans, sitting up in bed was not easy for you these days.

With a yawn, not even bothering to put on his eyepatch, he sat up in bed beside you.

“What have I told you about making good use of me if you need something, raqiarzy? (beloved). You should still be resting.” He chides you.

“How can I sleep when my tits are full to bursting, Aemond?” You reply with a slightly bratty tone, and he gives you a brisk pat on your behind to settle you. It was gentler than his strikes usually are, he considers your health with every action after all.

He sighs and lumbers out of bed to light a candle, as naked as he was when he succumbed to slumber. The newfound influx of hormones guides your attention to hone in on his cock flopping in the air as he walks back to bed. The dried wax from your love making last night still stubbornly clung to both of your bodies. You would definitely need to take another bath in the morning.

“Ao līs daor emagon ryptan issa se ēlī jēda, issa jorrāelagon. (you must not have heard me the first time, my love)” Aemond reminds you, unable to stop you from getting up and sitting in front of your vanity.

If your husband did not know better, one would think that you were opposed to any night time…. activites. The tired amusement in your eyes beckons him forward, but he stays lounging on the bed and watching you run your fingers through your hair. Aemond resorts to teasing to obtain your attention, adoring how you always fall for it hook, line, and sinker.

“It feels as if it were only yesterday that we reunited all those years ago, you had gotten lost and ended up falling in a hole in the city’s walls on your visit.”

Your hands pause on their way to grab your hair brush, casting a weak glare towards him out of the corner of your left eye. You clear your throat but you make no attempts to hide your embarrassment at the thought of the past. Aemond holds eye contact with you through the mirror, resting the hand not holding his head up on his hip.

“I was six and ten, wallowing in nausea and nerves. Do not pretend that you were faring much better, husband. We had not laid eyes on each other for nearly a decade.”

You do not mention the sizable tent in his trousers he had carried around after he helped you out of the wall.

“At that time I was convinced the way I would see you again would be in death, there was only relief for me.” He says firmly, and you shyly peel your gaze away from the mirror.

As exhausted and drained as you are, your heart melts at the unwavering affection in his words. Aemond clearly grows bored of playing cat and mouse, because suddenly his torso is pressing flush against your back.

“If you can’t sleep, at least allow me to distract you from your discomfort.”

He cups the front of your neck and gently squeezes, you huff but understand his unspoken request and arch your back against him.

“Refrain from teasing me, valzȳrys (husband), for tonight at least.” You lean your head back and look up at him as his other hand drifts down to tug the bodice of your nightgown down.

Your slip of Valyrian earns you another quick squeeze. You gasp and Aemond seizes the opportunity to gather enough saliva in his mouth to spit into yours. Your throat bobs under his hand as you swallow and he pinches your nipple in appreciation.

“Hmm. I will do my very best, darling.”

You have learned by now that such assurances mean tragically little.

Aemond takes stock of your chest, sliding the hand cupping your throat to be able to grope at both of your breasts. He rolls them around in his palms and kneads them as if he were in the kitchen handling dough. You moan at the sheer relief and his sapphire eye seems to sparkle at you in some kind of wink.

“These heavy tits must be remarkably sore, so full and with no one to drain them of their milk.”

You nod helplessly, more than ready for him to abandon his games and do just that.

One of his hands temporarily abandons your breast to push your head back down so you’d look at the mirror. You sit there, enraptured in the sight of milk beading to the tips of your nipples and leaking out.

Aemond catches it as well and groans, pinching at your nipples a bit meaner and squeezing your tits tightly to coax more milk out.

“Gevie (beautiful) , all this food for our future dragon. You are glowing brighter than any moon, raqiarzy (beloved).”

Your cheeks heat with embarrassment, never being able to take compliments with grace, and gaze down at your lap. A firm hand sinks into your hair and pulls it so you return your gaze to your sticky tits. Aemond swipes his fingers through the milky trails running down your tits. He whorishly brings them to his mouth and sucks them dry, smirking at you in the mirror as he grunts.

Your ornate vanity chair is swiftly turned around, and your lap is drowned in white hair when he falls to his knees before you.

“Aemond, what are you-“ Your words are cut off by a greedy mouth latched around your right nipple. Your husband is being mindful of his teeth and starts to rapidly suckle.

His free hand pets at the hair above your mound absentmindedly. An agonized groan floats through the air as his sucking picks up speed. You clutch onto the back of his head with both hands and run your fingers through his fine hair.

“Gods, Aemond, thank you thank you thank you. Such a devoted husband, I love you.” You do not say it often, your shy nature comes into play regarding that sort of thing, but the immensity of it must take a toll on your husband.

His groans are muffled by your teats and you have to swipe away stray drops of milk that dribble out of his mouth as he drains you.

Somewhere along the way he switches to your other breast when the previous one had nothing more to give. Your cunt howls in need for additional stimulation but the feeling of your chest pain fading away urges you to let your dearly beloved have his fill of your body. There are times in which you say it is his right.

You notice that Aemond has been grinding his weeping cock against the floor. He appears to have synced his thrusts to his suckling, and seeing how drunk he is off your milk meant for his future child makes you just as ravenous as his cock is for a hole to fuck.

Your arms wrap around Aemond in a fierce hug, surrendering yourself to your cunt’s way of thinking. Even if he wanted to pull away, your grip gave him no means to do so. His face is squished into your tits and his eye rolls back, continuing his suckling and writhing.

He rips his mouth away from you to loudly exclaim, and you are startled by how his mouth forms an ‘O’ shape and his form locks up. Aemond weakly thrusts his hips through his apparent peak, the burst of fluids spewing out onto the floor. A few spurts of it lands on your legs, and in the depths of your depravity you eagerly scoop it up to shove in your mouth.

You run your fingers through Aemond’s hair again to assist him in coming back down, and once he does you are quickly swooped up in his arms and delicately thrown back onto the bed.

“Do not confuse a curse for a blessing, issa dāria (my queen). My cock is likelier to grow wings and take flight than it is to run out of seed to stuff this puffy cunny with. Sir sagon nykeā sȳz ābrazȳrys (now be a good wife), and endure it for me, hm?”

You will be greeting the approaching dawn with countless more pieces of dried wax.

[milliesfishes]

i know it’s been forever (a day) bc i’ve been busy being my own sugar mommy (working my summer job) but i have all the thoughts

like ttpd (the song) is giving best-friends-but-maybe-something-more reader + coryo until the games and then he’s being all cozy with lucy gray

and readers over here like i know everything about you and who you want to be, i’ve been here for you all along, if u really think that any other girl will be even half the partner i’d be then good luck babe

(who else decodes you? / who’s gonna hold you? / sometimes i wonder if you’re gonna screw this up with me? / i laughed in your face and said)

im sorry in advance for all the world vomit lmao

౨ৎ꣑ৎWho Else Decodes You?౨ৎ꣑ৎ

[fem reader] contains: injury, jealousy pairing: coriolanus snow x fem reader summary: you know coriolanus like the back of your hand, and yet he runs to another girl the first chance he gets author’s note: so sorry this took forever! I needed very specific vibes for this and I hope it's good! Pinterest Board Spotify Playlist

Your sheets were silken, soft to the touch, but they felt better when he was lying next to you.

Opening your eyes just a hint, you reveled in the glow of the morning sun filtering through the curtains. Coriolanus was sprawled out next to you, remaining deep in the throes of sleep. His curls were a messy halo across his forehead just as they were every morning, and you delighted in the sight of him, knowing he'd smooth his hair as soon as he awoke.

The broad plane of his bare chest was vastly uncovered by the comforter, and you traced your finger down the bump of his ribs. The heat of his skin exuded from his body like a fire in the hearth, warming you right up just by being next to him.

Resting your chin on his shoulder, you let your hair fall to the side as you studied him like a book. If your Coryo was a genre he'd be a classic- renowned and readable if one took the time. Not many people did.

His lashes fluttered like butterfly's wings, and you shut your eyes. No need for him to know you'd been staring at him.

Shifting under you, Coriolanus made a quiet noise as he emerged from his dreams, one of his big palms rising to rest at the crown of your head. The intimate gesture was a spark in your quiet heart.

Thumb raking through your strands, his other hand settled by yours on his stomach, clasping your limp fingers in a delightful knot. At that, you allowed yourself to unfold your eyes, looking up at him in an innocent way.

Coriolanus had never been one to smile easily. His face was hardened all too often, by the survivalist ways of his life in the cutthroat world of the Capitol. But now the corners of his lips were lifting just barely upwards as his cerulean eyes drowned yours in the best possible way.

"Morning," he whispered, voice slightly raspy with the cobwebs of sleep. Coriolanus rubbed your arm and dug his nose into your hair, inhaling softly.

The mornings with him were sacred, locked away in a vault for your darkest hours. At your insistence, he stayed the night often. His trust was not an easy thing to come by, and yet you were in possession of it. You knew of his living conditions, of the Snow's maintenance of their surname's image. It was a gift how at ease he was with you. So much so that he was able to slip smoothly into unconsciousness with you right there in his arms.

Friends. Best friends. That was your title and yet you were tangled in the sheets of your bed like lovers. And you couldn't ignore the familiar flutter in your heart when he peered down at you, usually icy eyes softened.

"Can we stay here all day?" you questioned in dulcet tones, tracing a patch of his skin. "It's so cozy."

"We've got to get to the school," Coriolanus shifted, sitting up in the bed and bringing his hand to his forehead. "The Reaping-"

"Yes," you murmured, rubbing his side. Your satin-like hair was a waterfall over your shoulder as you propped yourself up on an elbow. All Coriolanus had been able to talk about was the Reaping in the past few weeks. Ever since he'd been selected as a Mentor.

It was a high honor, although it came with a heavy price. To groom a child for death as a spectacle was no easy thing. You had opted out of the selection of students poised to be mentors, personal fear and heartache for the soon-to-be victims eating at your psyche.

You were privileged in that way, you knew. Coriolanus didn't have a choice if he wanted any hope of attending the University. He was proud, your boy, refusing to accept even a penny from your family's expansive funds. Through your late father's investments, you could have paid to keep the both of you comfortable in a penthouse in the city, tuition and food the furthest of worries.

Watching him now, donning his dress pants and shirt, lacing up his too-small shoes, you wished he would let you help. The white shirt was exquisite, clandestine work by Tigris- his fashion-centric cousin. Coriolanus had a talent for making anything he wore appear regal- a byproduct of his last name no doubt.

Rising, you disappeared into the closet to find a dress appropriate for the event. Though you were not a mentor, all students at the Academy were invited to the celebration. You would have begged your way in anyways, eager to watch your best friend receive his tribute.

Rifling through the selection, you decided on a black number with thin straps, hugging your figure and flaring out subtly toward the bottom. Removing your nightdress, you tossed it over a chair and stepped into the other garment, zipping it up as high as you could.

When your fingers were unable to stretch any further, you poked your head out, calling, "Coryo? Would you help me?"

His shoes clicked on the wooden floor as he approached, one hand steadying you on your waist while you drew your sheet of hair over your shoulder. The zipper crawled up your spine as he closed the gap between fabric, reaching over to brush your hair back behind you when he finished.

The mirror positioned in the corner of the room painted a picture that passerby couldn't possibly guess the context on. Coriolanus and you cut a striking pair, making your foolish heart leap at the idea.

Squeezing your shoulder, Coriolanus left you to ponder at your reflection, digging through his school bag for something. It had been a miracle you'd been able to convince him to spend the night at all with how meticulous he was. But your honeyed musings about how he needed a good dinner and night's rest before the ceremony had won him over. Before you'd known it he'd been passed out under your blankets with a belly full of roast, lulled by the motions of your nails scratching his head.

Inside and out, you knew him, had memorized him better than any textbook passage, could unravel his tangled secrets quicker than any detective. He took your heart by storm.

Slipping your feet into your shoes, you picked up your purse and checked your recently finished makeup one last time, casting a glance at Coriolanus, who was fiddling with his curls again. You capped your lipstick with a snap, dropping the tube into your bag and turning to him. "Ready?"

When he looked at you, his oceanic eyes held a promise of storms. You reached your hand out and took his, offering the tiniest smile. "It's going to be okay."

Closing his eyes briefly, he inhaled once and gave a single nod. If you'd put your hand to his chest, the stampede of his heart under it likely would have worried you. The tendrils of hope crept between you as you tried to will your words into him.

Sticking his hand into his bag, Coriolanus withdrew twin flowers you recognized as his grandmother's precious roses- the special rooftop ones reserved for special occasions. Snapping the stems, he fixed one behind your ear, thumb featherlike. The gesture swelled your chest and warmed you from the inside out. "For me?"

"The Grandma'am insisted." There it was- that almost smile that told you the flower was coming from him too. Coriolanus steadied it in your hair, the petals brushing you like a kiss.

"Thank you," you whispered, touching your lips to his cheek. A slight flush brightened his face, and he looked away as your hands came to the one of his holding his own rose. Gently easing it out of his grip, you fastened it to his vest, taking care not to scratch his white shirt with the pin. Ironing out invisible creases with your hands, your eyes found his once again.

Friends. And yet it didn't feel like it. Not one bit. Electricity seemed to crackle in the line connecting your gazes, and you swore something flashed across his irises. The rose didn't mean nothing.

Half-dazed, you tentatively unearthed the feeling stored in a drawer stuffed to the brim with secrets. One more passionate and powerful than you were used to stood tall above the rest.

Though it was strong, it revealed itself in memories; quiet, simple things so delicate they could be gone in a blink. This feeling was rain pattering against the roof, it was flowers blooming between the cracks in the sidewalk. It was blue eyes and golden curls and a try-not-to-smile that arranged itself in a way that bloomed through the walls of your heart.

Somehow you had known what it was all along. And yet now its foretelling had come to pass.

What if he loved you too?

The Reaping was a lilted event highlighted by the revelation of Coriolanus' tribute.

District Twelve. You could have strangled the Dean lost in the throes of his beloved drug for what he'd so obviously done: set Coriolanus up for failure. From where you were sitting you could see the resignation on his face as he watched the Lucy Gray Baird in her rainbow dress part the raggedy crowd like the Red Sea.

Then she slipped a wriggling snake hidden by her hand down a girl's dress, and your attention was piqued. Bold. Maybe there was optimism yet. Coriolanus stood sharply; eyes glued to the screen as he watched his tribute dragged up the stage by stone-faced Peacekeepers. The mayor's hand struck her face, and she fell to the ground graceful as a ballerina, hair hanging over her cheeks.

And then she began to sing. Lilted as a bird's song, clear as a bell, her voice rang over the crowd, rich enough without background music. Lucy Gray's chorus needed no accompaniment.

The entire hall was entranced. Your eyes tore from the sight, instead watching Coriolanus. Even from where you were sitting you could see what you'd tried to instill in him only hours ago.

Hope.

The time following was a film reel of interconnected pictures. In later days you would recall them and only be able to see brief flashes of memory.

Coriolanus behind the bars of the Capitol Zoo's cage. Lucy Gray Baird standing tall and proud despite her forced surroundings, her rainbow dress a bright contrast to the rest of the setting. He had told you his plan to greet his tribute, but you'd had no idea of his exertions until you saw him on the evening news. Even if his Academy uniform hadn't been such a bright red, you would have known those curls anywhere.

She was stunningly lovely standing beside him- a flower of adversity if there ever was one. A flower with a song. Speaking of flowers, one of his was tucked behind her ear just as it had been with yours the morning of the Reaping.

A pang echoed in your chest at the sight of him, holding hands with her and greeting the citizens of the Capitol who'd come to gawk at the forced participants of a cruel game.

You had turned off the television at that, bringing your knees to your chest. He was just helping her. That was his job. He only wanted her to trust him in order to reach his end goal. Was it manipulative? Maybe. But it wouldn't matter if she won. It would be good for the both of them.

Coriolanus kneeling beside Lucy Gray, sharing a sandwich with her. You hung back behind the crowd, having accompanied him but not wanting to scare her away. He spoke in hushed tones to her, and you watched with a sinking heart as a smile split his face like a sunrise at something she said. A full smile.

After that, you saw him rarely. He was either at the zoo with her or at home writing things up both for the games and for school. Coriolanus used to do all his work with you by his side.

The media outlets were fond of showing him and Lucy Gray, reporting on the Snow boy and the songbird. You had tried to ask him about his affiliation with Lucy Gray, but he assured you it was pure strategy. He didn't know you loved him, though.

Coriolanus hadn't spent the night since the Reaping. The side he usually slept on grew cold. It still smelled like him, and that was a haunting thing. Whenever you asked him over he cast a net of excuses, claiming he needed to go see Lucy Gray in the morning or that the mentors had a strategy meeting.

As you stared up at him, with his eyebrows drawn taut, mouth no longer offering even a half-smile, a feeling of dread awoke in your heart.

Avoidance was your friend in the next week. The buzz of the games was impossible to ignore, and your feelings became matted in a bloody tangle. Tidying your room, you found little things he'd left behind. A pen, a spare shirt, a notebook. Opening the cover of the latter, you saw his neatly scribbled notes. For a moment you pretended it was a love letter.

It all came to a heading after the attack in the arena.

Everything was a blur after you received the news. Your feet were moving before you knew it, stumbling down the stairs. The driver on the way had to have been breaking every speeding law, but it still wasn't fast enough for you.

You didn't have any idea how you made it up to him. There was no recollection of asking someone where he was, or even a room number. But somehow you were at his side, taking his clammy hand in yours and collapsing to your knees beside his bed.

Tigris told you in a hushed way of how rebels had somehow bombed the arena, how there was a fire and rubble, and Lucy Gray had pulled him out of it. His leg had been in worse shape earlier, but it would heal soon.

A surge of gratitude shot through you. Thank heavens for Lucy Gray. Coriolanus was stirring now, his hand gripping yours as his lids revealed those oceans you'd missed so badly. And now his half-smile was back. He murmured your name and you could have burst into tears.

"You're okay," you murmured, other hand coming up to smooth curls back from his face. The way you knew he liked it.

"What happened...Lucy Gray..." he muttered, sitting up. A cold feeling of disheartenment washed over your heart. You opened your mouth to respond when the sound of music echoed from the hospital television on the wall.

There she was. The answer to his question. Lucy Gray's voice poured from the scratchy speaker, singing about a tale of lost love, paired with her guitar.

Coriolanus swung his legs over the side of the bed, getting to his feet nearly in a trance. His lips were parted, eyes fixed on her. Donations were pouring in, likely the most of any other tribute. The look on his face was of pure awe. It was as if he'd watched an angel descending.

Your heart sunk below your feet. Tears pricked your eyes as the chilling fingers of want gripped your arms, pulling you back into the shadows. He was falling for her.

It hit you like a punch to the gut, and you wanted to curl up on the floor beneath you until the ground opened and swallowed you up. Your love was a disease now that you didn't want to cure anyways. Even if you did, there wasn't one in sight.

The program ended, and Tigris excused herself, telling you both she was going to find something to eat. You sat at the chair beside Coriolanus' bed where he'd resumed his spot, despondent in the chasm of your thoughts.

She didn't know him like you did. Every hidden desire and pain of his fit into the palm of your hand, and you protected them just as he did. Time had slipped through the cracks and buried you, every shred of history with him flashing through your mind.

Walking to school together. Him coming from a particularly hard class to where you were sitting and resting his head in your lap. At your family's dinner table, trying not to overindulge. Asleep beside you, whispering that he felt safe.

You had been in front of him this entire time, holding him and loving him beyond everything. And yet here he was, running to a girl he knew so little of. Sabotaging everything you wanted to give him.

Even through all this, you couldn't find it in yourself to hate her. Lucy Gray was in the business of making it out alive. Whatever means she used to attempt a win were out of survival.

It was as if you'd pricked your finger on one of his rose's thorns. As you looked at him, you had the thought that he was drawing out of reach. Your Coryo was nearly lost to you and there was hardly anything to do.

He looked up at you, reaching for your hand. Letting him take it, you kept your eyes on his face, thoughts distant as he spoke.

"I think she has a chance," he said, voice bordering on excitement. "I think she can win. It'll all work out."

Bittersweet, you nodded, eyes falling to the floor. "You make a good pair." Every word was soft, and you avoided his eyes.

"Hey..." Coriolanus squeezed your hand, and you raised your gaze back to him. His features were drawn in a sincere way, and your demeanor lightened just slightly at the sight. "I want to get the prize. Go to the university with you. That's what this is all for."

"You look at her differently than that." Pursing your lips, you stood and let go of his hand.

Coriolanus frowned, throwing aside the covers and standing. "She might be the answer to all of this."

"That's fine," you said, turning away. "If you want her-"

"What are you talking about?" he asked, taking your elbow and forcing you to turn and face him. "I leave my things in your room. I gave you one of the roses...you're special to me, you have to know..."

"Then why have you abandoned me?" you questioned quietly, the tension between you thicker than a rope. "You're letting go."

"I'm doing all this for you," he emphasized, and your eyes widened slightly. "You..." he swallowed; mouth pulled tight. "I need you. If you ever left...I don't know what would happen."

Usually you had to comb through the depths of him eyes to find what he was feeling, but now it was right at the surface. Brimming and calling you. What he felt wasn't nothing.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Coriolanus demanded, holding you by both arms now. His words were not aggressive, but worried.

A thousand things stemmed from your core and climbed your being like vines on a stone wall in a secret garden. Fabled to act, more likely to yearn, your feelings bubbled and churned in your ocean of secret lives. Maybe once you would have poured your soul out to him, but the words were withered from lack of use.

"You weren't mine," you said weakly, leaving it at that. "Not mine to have or to lose."

Something changed in his face. He loosened the bands of his hands on your elbows, instead taking one of your hands and putting it to his heart. It beat a steady rhythm against your palm, that quiet assurance that he lived. Searching your eyes, Coriolanus breathed, "I think I've always been yours."

A myriad of scars and knotted emotions emerged in you. All these hours, all of what had seemed like tricks. And there had been something there the entire time.

You felt it right then- the connection. He was a tongue you spoke fluently, and now you were grateful for it. It sparked a fire in your soul that encased a promise echoed in his eyes.

He loved you too.

[heys0ulmate]

veneration (this faith's got me high)

pairing: sofia falcone/gigante x f!reader

summary: sofia isn't the same anymore- but you've waited too long for her to care.

warnings: uhh .. unnegotiated/dubcon, gun usage, slight bondage, passing out, im sure im missing stuff, not proofread, major abuse of italics sorry lmao

word count: 4.6K

A/N: this is the first part of what i PLAN to be a series, tho im not sure when the next part(s) will be out. i legitimately havent published a fic in over a decade so im sorry that its like. poorly structured LOL. not much smut in this one sorry yall. title from holy by zolita btw. also this was posted prematurely by accident cus it was still in my drafts but oh well

〰️

You don't recognize the room you're in, but you feel no danger. All you feel is giddiness and bliss.

There's something warm next to you. Sofia.

Her red, pretty lips are moving, corners curled up slightly, but you can't hear her. You laugh despite the fact, because it feels right. The joy in your chest overwhelming.

She's closer, now. You're laughing hysterically, to the point of tears. It's getting hard to breathe.

Sofia cups your face. She looks scared, but you still can't hear what she's saying. You can't speak- all you can do is laugh and choke for air.

The room changes.

It's crowded.

You spot Sofia from across the galley.

Something in you tells you to run to her, as fast as you can, like you'll die if you don't. It's an all-consuming type of panic, the inability to breathe slowly creeping back.

You push past the crowd, but the more progress you make, the larger the room seems to grow.

The crowd parts, and you see her. She's leaving the room, hand in hand with her father. Her lips are parted in a scream that you still can't hear.

"Sofia!" You shriek, running as fast as you can now that the people have cleared a path.

You're inches away from Sofia and the grip her father has on her when you suddenly hear her voice loud and clear from behind you.

"She's not here anymore."

You bolt up from your bed, gasping for air and flailing under your blanket, desperately trying to wrestle it off.

It takes a minute to gather your bearings.

"Shit," you mutter to yourself, rubbing your eyes.

It shouldn't phase you. You can't remember a single night in the past ten goddamn years that you haven't woken up from a some sort of dream-turned nightmare about Sofia. But something about this one seemed to stick to you like summer heat, an uncomfortable, lingering sensation that seems to amplify the harder you try to ignore it.

"She's not here anymore."

It rings through your head like a catchy song as you stumble into the kitchen for a glass of water.

In the ten years since Sofia was taken from you, you haven't heard her voice even once. You weren't allowed visitation as a non-family member, and phone calls were prohibited for the same reason.

It was almost if the sanctions had carried over into your psyche, some form of cruel punishment that prevented you from hearing her even in your dreams.

At least you were able to see her at night.

You'd never grown used to the inevitable, debilitating dread that suffocated you each time you awoke, but you still looked forward to falling asleep each night, knowing it'd grant you a brief illusion of having Sofia by your side again.

"She's not here anymore."

You try not to think to hard about it, to instead appreciate the blessing of being graced with her voice, even if it was just subconscious. You tell yourself it's probably just a result of the weeks recent events; the flooding of Gotham city. The death of Carmine Falcone.

The impact of it all must have rattled you.

That's all.

But... you can't shake the nagging feeling that there was something more.

It's then that your phone rings on your bedside table. *BRRR*

You set your water cup down with a huff, shuffling your feet slowly towards your bedroom. You're in no rush to pick up. Who the fuck call at this time of night; and without warning?

In your experience, this meant one of two things: the call was your basic, run of the mill scam attempt, or a reporter who had found your number and was desperate for some kind of story. Not that you'd ever give them one, of course. Even when Sofia was still around, and your relationship was somewhat in the public eye, you never discussed anything with journalists of any kind.

After Sofia was sent to Arkham, the scrutiny on you had increased. You went from being the occasionally mentioned girlfriend of Carmine Falcone's daughter, to 'the woman who loved The Hangman.'

Generally, the public saw you as a pseudo-victim; someone who had been manipulated by The Hangman, paraded to maintain a false image, and used as a front to keep Sofia's cover. They didn't believe you when you claimed to have been with Sofia on three of the nights that those women were killed. "The poor girl- who knows what that woman subjected her to, to make her lie for her?"

The year following her arrest was the peak of your exposure. You were relentlessly assaulted with press whenever you went outside, and you had to change your cell phone number four times.

Everyone was dying for an inside scoop on what it was like to know The Hangman intimately.

By the second year, you were more comfortable leaving the house. You moved just outside of Gotham, and slowly, the pressure for statements and interviews died down the longer Sofia was away. You still get the occasional phone call, someone hoping that now that it's been 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 years, maybe you'd be willing to share your 'story.'

You'd hang up immediately every time, until you got to the point where you just stopped picking up.

*BRRRRR*

You approach your bedside table with every intention to hit the reject button, squinting at the brightness of your screen in the dark of your room.

That's when you see the caller ID.

*000*

You pause.

So far, every telemarketer, every scammer, reporter, and journalist, were listed as either Unknown Caller, or a string of numbers.

The only time you received calls with three digit numbers was when it was Alberto.

A part of you hesitates. Alberto does this, sometimes, though it's become more sparse over the years: he goes on a bender, gets too in his feelings, and calls from a nurner phone and leaves you a barrage of voice and text messages. It's always the same, with him going on coked-up rant about how he's going to get Sofia out one day and wrong everyone who wronged her.

Outside of that, though, Alberto never called. When Sofia was sent away, Alberto had begun simultaneously spiraling and attempting to survive and thrive in the Falcone family. Between the drugs and job, Alberto became a lot more isolated than he used to be. Any attempt on your part to reach out wasn't successful. He stopped responding from the number you'd had saved, keeping communication one-sided.

Still, every week, you texted him the same thing at the same time. Sunday, 9AM, an hour before you knew Sofia had visitation hours. Tell Sofia I love her, please.

You'd never get a response, but you never really expected to, either. You had no way of confirming if he was seeing your messages. The only way you knew Alberto still even thought of you or knew your number was with the increasingly infrequent, triple digit ID calls.

Either way, the occasional drug fueled messages always left you feeling even more depressed. Knowing Alberto was suffering just as much as you didn't bring any sort of comfort; it just reminded you of your own pain.

*BRRRRR*

Between the unease from your dream and timing of the call, though, every instinct in your body is telling you to pick up the phone.

Your hands tremble as you clumsily smash the answer button with your thumb, bringing the phone up to your ear.

"Hello?" You wait with baited breath as you hear Alberto on the other side of the line. "...'Berto?" There's nothing but silence for a moment.

Then, you hear him clear his throat. "I, uh-" There's a pause, and a sniff. "I'm gettin' her out, [Y/N]."

You're heart pounds almost painfully. "Y-you mean-"

"Yeah," Alberto confirms with a disbelieving laugh, as if he can't wrap his own head around it. "Yeah," he says again, more firmly this time, confirming everything you've wanted, pleaded, prayed for, for ten years. "She's comin' home."

The news breaks two days later.

Two days of silence from Alberto after he dropped that fucking bomb on you.

You aren't sure if you're in shock, or if it literally hasn't quite hit you yet. Maybe it's because, despite a part of you accepting you'd never see her again, you always had faith in your heart that she'd come back to you. That naive hope kept you alive for ten years.

You aren't sure what to do with yourself, now. You've grown so accustomed to just... existing. Holding hope, with nothing to really do with it. This sort of feels likes that, but with more anticipation knowing what's to come.

Except, it doesn't.

She comes home, yes. You watch the reports about it, read the headlines, hear the outcries. But you don't see her. You don't hear from her, or Alberto, and you're resigned to waiting for one of them to reach out.

After a few days, you grew impatient. The anxiety you'd felt from waiting around had turned into a sort of panic, an all consuming need to make any attempt to quell your nerves.

Why hadn't you heard anything? Had something gone wrong? Did they forget?

You'd gone to the Falcone residence. It was fucking packed with news casters, journalists, rioters and spectators. It had taken you a while to shove your way through the mob, and when you had, you were turned away like everyone else.

You went back the next day, and the next, and the results were the same.

And then, Alberto dies.

You think the shock will return, but all you can think is Sofia, Sofia, Sofia. Your Sofia. Your girl, who must be hurting so tremendously right now, who you can't cradle and comfort.

It seems your deep seeded need to be by Sofia's side reignites some of your more rational thinking, though, and you consider your options.

The crowds of cameras and protesters should disperse by the time the sun goes down, you'd assume, giving you more of a shot to see her.

So, you decide to return to the Falcone's late that evening, when the moon has settled and the stars are at their brightest.

Despite the time, it seems the family is well awake, as all the lights can be seen as you walk up the driveway. You hear voices, though you're too far away to tell if they're shouts from behind the walls, or conversations outside.

Soon, two of the guards notice you approaching. "Hey!" One hollars, hoisting up his gun as he stalks towards you. "What are you doin' here? You got business with Luca?"

You should probably be more concerned about the possibility of being shot by a paranoid guard, but your adrenaline is pumping too hard to care.

"Uh- no, I'm- I don't," you stutter. "I wanna see Sofia."

As the second guard approaches, you hear a soft chuckle. "Ah, yeah, I remember you," he drawls, before turning towards the other man. "Used to hang around Sofia," he explains to him, making the other relax his posture slightly.

"She's not available," the first one grunts, "probably won't be for a while."

Being turned down does little to deter you. "So she's here? Just, not available?" You ask hopefully. They don't get a chance to respond. "That's fine. I can wait."

You make a bold move to squeeze past them, speed walking over to the grand stair case in front of the house with purpose.

Behind you, the guards bicker. You don't hear what they say, outside of something about 'letting Ms. Falcone decide,' but based on the lack of pushback, you assume the one who remembered you was suggesting the other guard leave it be.

You're perfectly content to sit for as long as you need to. You've waited a decade for Sofia; you can wait a few hours- or even until the morning- to finally see her after all this time.

To your surprise, though, you only wait for about 45 minutes.

The front doors of the mansion swing open, and you hear the click of heels stomping down the steps.

"Fuckin' pricks," someone mutters, and you immediately recognize the voice.

Your heart leaps into your throat as you stand on shaky legs, and you can't turn around to face her fast enough. You almost lose you balance in the process, but catch yourself in time for Sofia to notice your presence.

She has a cigarette halfway to her lips as she stares at you, an unreadable expression on her face.

You blink.

She blinks.

"You're..." her voice sounds empty for a moment. Then she shakes her head a little, blinking hard a few times and huffing. "What are you doing here, [Y/N]?"

You open your mouth, but your brain is moving a mile a minute. Nothing comes out, and you just gape at her like a fish for a few moments. "Uhhhh..." you trail off dumbly, but you're too frozen to even feel stupid about it.

Sofia rolls her eyes. "Come on," she says as she resumes her walk past you, lighting up her cigarette as she does. "I'm not staying too far from here at the moment."

You practically trip over yourself in your rush to follow Sofia. It's a bit of a struggle to keep up with her pace, but you manage. The car is parked at the end of the driveway. A burly man is propped against the hood, and he moves around to the back door when he sees Sofia quickly approaching. He opens it for her with a quick acknowledgment as she slides in smoothly, and remains silent as you clumsily follow suit.

Sofia keeps her eyes fixed out the window as the man gets into the drivers seat. You can't help but stare at her, though, something akin to awe making it impossible to look away.

A few minutes into the drive, you see Sofia tentatively shift her eyes towards you. She looks on guard, as though unnerved by your eyes on her.

Still, she says nothing. Her gaze stays trained on the passing scenery for the remainder of the ride, like she's stubbornly making an effort to ignore your blatant staring.

Sofia hardly waits until the car is parked to unbuckle and hastily exist the vehicle once it's pulled in front of her building. You rush to get your door open, jogging a little to catch up to her.

You're paid no mind as Sofia struts inside and walks to the kitchen. It's almost like you're invisible, a silent, unseen witness.

Sofia moves around the kitchen with a practiced ease, retrieving a glass and wine bottle that she pops open, pouring a sizeable amount. She takes a long, long sip, her head tilting back until the contents of her glass are almost completely gone.

Then, she sighs, her shoulders relaxing a bit as she embraces the warmth of the alcohol.

Finally, she looks at you, indifference written all over her face. "You didn't give me an answer earlier," she states simply.

You take a small step forward. "Sofia..." You blink hard, suddenly overwhelmed with emotions.

Sofia is looking at you. You see her. You hear her.

You take another step, and another, until your knees buckle in front of her. "Sofia," it's an almost reverant sound that makes Sofia inhale sharply.

She's so close.

You wrap your arms around her legs as you kneel before her, nuzzling against her thighs.

"Sofia," you say again, just as softly.

You can breathe again. After ten long, dreadful years, you finally feel like the air in your lungs is pure and real.

Sofia freezes. She's unsure of how to process this.

You're here. In front of her- willingly.

It feels wrong; you bowing before her when you have no idea who she is anymore.

"Cut it out," she mutters, lightly pushing your head away and taking a small step back.

You remain on your knees, looking up at her with half lidded eyes.

The adoration in them makes Sofia uncomfortable.

"Get off the floor," Sofia says, her tone indescribable. "You aren't an animal." She turns to top off her wine glass, takes a sip, and leaves the room.

It takes you a minute to gather yourself, but you slowly move towards the direction she headed in. You find her in a room down the hall, an open, office-adjacent space. She's sitting on a loveseat in the center of the room, staring blankly ahead as she sips away.

You pause in the doorway to observe her for a minute, wondering if she's aware that you've followed. You decide to let your presence be known, taking a few confident steps forward.

Sofia doesn't look at you when she speaks.

"Whatever you're here for," she starts, "you won't find."

"No," you find yourself saying. "No, Sofia, I..." you trail off as you come closer. "I... I just want you."

Sofia's jaw clenches. "You don't know what that means anymore," she spits, before taking another sip of her wine, attempting to grow the irrational anger brewing inside her.

There's a certain, panicked heat that comes over you then, feeling unheard and misunderstood. "No, no," you say hastily. "No, Sofia, please," you drop in front of her again. "Please, Sofia. I don't care what that- what that means. All I care about is you."

Sofia scoffs, her temper getting the best of her. She grips your hair without thinking, pulling your head off her lap to look up at her. "You want me to show you what it means?" She hisses, eyes wide and manic. "Okay. Take your clothes off."

You're momentarily stunned, not expecting Sofia's request. "What? Ah-!" Sofia yanks your hair again, gritting her teeth as she speaks. "Take off your fucking clothes," she repeats.

Her tone sends you into motion, and you scramble to remove your top. Sofia settles back against the couch as she watches you undress for her, keeping her features schooled.

Once you're bare, you shift on your knees a bit, unsure of what to do. Being naked in front of Sofia certainly isn't new, but, it's also been ten years since you've last been intimate with her. You never anticipated it happening again like... this. Sofia never acted this way with you in the last. Usually, she undressed you herself, slowly and with kisses on each inch of skin she revealed. She had been teasing, sure, but never so stern.

It stirred something in you that you couldn't place your finger on. All you know is, you certainly aren't complaining.

So, you stay still, not wanting to do anything without instruction lest Sofia decide she's no longer willing to entertain you. You bask in Sofia's predatory gaze, letting her drink in your exposed body.

Soon, though, you start to squrim a bit. It's not cold, per say, but the air was just brisk enough on your bare skin that you couldn't ignore the slight chill.

You shiver a little, and Sofia smirks.

"You cold?" She asks knowingly. Sofia keeps her eyes on you as she reaches for her wine glass, standing as she does.

You tense a little as she begins to stalk closer to you, a small sneer on her face.

She's behind you, now, but you don't dare to move your head, not even when you hear the clink of her wine glass on the ground. Instead, you stay still and complacent as Sofia picks up your discarded shirt and begins to wrap it around your wrists. You moan inadvertently at the feeling of her skin on yours, but Sofia takes a deep breath. She ignores the sound, instead making quick work of restraining your hands behind your back.

When she's done, Sofia picks her glass back up as she towers over you. There's a dark, empty look in her eye that sends a chill down your spine.

Sofia, of course, notices this.

She smirks. "Is that it? You chilly, sweetheart?" Her voice is patronizing and full of faux concern.

You're not sure if she wants an answer or not, but aren't given a chance to respond either way, Sofia suddenly splashing the remenants of the wine from her glass onto you.

You flinch, and gasp loudly at the cold sensation. You're hands instinctively move to rub at eyes in an attempt to clear your vision, but you find yourself tugging fruitlessly at the shirt Sofia had binded your wrists. The wine soaking your face and dampening your hair ends trickles down your body, erupting goosebumps in it's wake.

You're still blinking heavily in an attempt to normalize your seeing when hear a breathy cackle. You feel her pinch your jaw, a strong grip on you as she licks a filthy stripe up your face, lapping up the spilt wine. She releases you, the sound of footsteps echoing through the room as Sofia struts past you and towards the desk by the window. You can't see what she's retrieving, your eyesight blurry and unfocused.

By the time Sofia circles back, you've mostly regainedy your vision. You don't have any time to visually process what she has in her hand, though, as she wastes no time in forcing the barrel of her handgun past your parted, panting lips, and into your mouth.

"It's a terrible feeling. Isn't it?" The gun presses a little harder, and you cringe at the feeling of rough metal pressing against your tongue. "Nothing left to hide behind," Sofia drawls, her voice is surprisingly even, though her words feel weighted.

You blink up at her with an unnerving lack of fear.

Sofia bares on with a tilt of her head. "The guards at Arkham stripped us bare every morning," she states, and your heart clenches at the thought. "It was humiliating," Sofia continues, a subtle anger brewing in her voice with each punctuated annunciation, "being turned into a thing."

Sofia shoves the gun hard enough to make you gag, and presses forward until you're bending backwards. Sofia straddles you, her grip on the gun directing your movements. She has you sprawled on your back, hands twisted painfully under you, pressed between your spine and the hardwood floor.

Sofia lowers her face, her wild eyes inches from yours. "You think," she growls, "that I'm still who you knew?" She smiles, though there's no joy in it. "That I'm not just a thing?"

Apparently, it wasn't a rhetorically question, as Sofia yanks the gun out of your mouth.

You sputter for a second, before rushing to respond, "no," you gasp. "I- I don't expect you to- to be the same, Sofia, I don't." Your voice cracks a bit, and you pray that your eyes convey your earnesty. "I don't care that you- you don't feel like yourself, Sofia, if you feel different, now. I love you. I love you. I love you, Sofia," you insist, your voice soft.

Sofia regards you for a long minute, and you wait with abated breath to see how she'd react.

For a moment, you think she's heard you. Really heard, and believed you- believed in your unconditional love and devotion for her. There's a hopeful, but guarded look in her eye, something akin to a skittish street cat assessing if it should trust the hand reaching out to pet it. But, just as quickly as it appeared, it's gone.

Sofia's features go hard again, and she moves her face away, straightening her back and kneeling over you.

"You don't get it," she says- simply, quietly, almost as if to herself.

You part your lips to protest, but Sofia is quicker, and slaps her hand over your mouth. "Don't," she warns.

Sofia hates it. The way you don't even struggle under her; the way you just take it, like you understand what this means.

Why don't you get it? Do you really not understand what kind of horrors she was exposed to? What they did to her; what they turned her into?

It pisses her off.

How dare you, how dare you, prance back into her life, expecting her to be untouched by the hell that was Arkham?

Do you think she's naive? That she'd truly believe, after all this time, you'd still want her? Want her for who she actually is now?

You don't even fucking know her anymore.

Fuck.

It infuriates her for so many reasons that she refuses to acknowledge right now.

Instead, she let's herself embrace the unbridled rage that's always threatening to erupt inside her.

"Alright!" She exclaims, a Cheshire Cat grin spreading across her face. "You love me?" She taunts. "You think you want me?"

She shoves herself off of you to pull her underwear down her legs. You're heart thuds as she slips off her fur coat and hikes up her dress. Sofia easily drops back down, straddling your face and gripping your hair with one hand. "Show me, then." With that, she lowers herself completely, smothering your face in her cunt.

Your primal instincts kick in, then, and you press forward, your tongue eagerly swiping through her folds.

Jesus fuck, you think somewhere in the back of your mind. Finally, finally, finally.

You hadn't realized how much you craved the taste of Sofia until this very moment. It feels like you're starving, like you haven't eaten in ten goddamn years, and Sofia is the first meal you've been granted.

Your ministrations are messy and desperate. You can hardly think straight, overwhelmed by the taste and scent and feel of Sofia. All you do is lick and suck and moan, embracing the pure bliss you feel. The rapidly decreasing supply of oxygen in your lungs is easy to ignore when you finally have the privilege of pleasuring Sofia again.

Sofia's eyebrows furrow. You won't struggle under her. You won't look up with panicked eyes, even as she deprives you of air, even as she suffocates you.

You don't get it.

Sofia narrows her eyes and her hips buck forward. It's almost violent, the way she fucks your face, riding harder and harder. She grunts softly, losing inhibition as she watches her slickness spread all over your face.

Still, you only whine as though you're the one being pleasured.

Why don't you fucking get it.

Sofia tightens her grip in your hair, pushing your face impossibly closer against her cunt as she feels her climax approaching. She's panting harshly through her noise, controlling the means threatening to spill out of her.

Just then, your eyes slugglishly blink open and lock with hers. It's clear that you're moments away from passing out, and Sofia can only stare down at the dazed look in your eyes.

Still, there's no fear there. There's nothing but adoration.

Your eyes roll back, and your eyelids flutter shut. Sofia's breath hitches as your body goes limp under her.

It's then that she cums, her body tensing and jerking. A ragged moan escapes her as she grinds and grinds against you, using your unconscious body to draw the waves of pleasure out.

Sofia slumps off of you, sitting by your side as she recovers from the exertion. She just sits for a while, until her breathing regulates, and she gathers the courage to look over at you.

You're still passed out, but the slight rise and fall of your chest tells Sofia you are, in fact, alive.

It doesn't do much to relieve Sofia- not when there's a sick, familiar feeling of dread forming in the pit of her stomach.

No.

Sofia squeezes her eyes shut.

This isn't supposed to matter.

This doesn't mean anything.

Sofia stands, and smooths out her dress. She can't afford to have regrets; to have... things that make her question herself.

That's not her anymore.

Sofia takes a deep breath.

She squares her shoulders, and doesn't spare you a second glance as she forces herself to leave the room.

[captain039]

Drunken cuddles and midnight confessions

Astarion x reader

Warnings: AOB, fluff, light angst

I wrote this at like two in the morning lmao

‘Well hello, looking for a cuddle?’

You honestly hadn’t meant to drink this much, but it’d been a long time since you’d been at the gate. You were staggering on your feet though and Shadowheart was quite done with your lack of control when drinking. You were giggling and trying to dance with the poor half elf all night like some drunken giggly girls at a tavern. You were in high happy spirits, enjoying the smells and people. You were never really outgoing when sober, drunk though, you think you tried to talk up the alpha Druid more than once while he kindly declined and said you were drunk, to which you groaned and whined in return. You think you eventually passed out on your bedroll, sort of, you awoke in the dirt seeking warmth and comfort having forgotten your suppressants. Your body moved on its own as the pale elf laid in a mediative state. He awoke obviously sensing you as he smirked and leant back on his hands.

“Looking for a midnight cuddle?” He grinned moving his shoulders lightly. All you did was nod feeling exhausted and needy. The elf frowned taking a small sniff as you practically squashed him.

“Gods-“ he said softly as you laid on him and sighed contently.

“I didn’t mean literally, why do you smell like that?” He grunted annoyed.

“No, suppressants ‘mega, need alpha cuddles” you slurred sleepily and he tensed.

“I’m a vampire darling not an alpha, go cuddle the druid and fill your omega needs” he scoffed lightly and you made a sad noise and lifted your top half up to look at him.

“Don’t give me that look” he said eyes stern as you gave a pout and puppy dog eyes.

“I’ll leave you alone in the morning then forever, promise, know you don’t like me” you tried to compromise, you really needed this in your state your mind not entirely thinking. He frowned looking a little baffled and you felt dejected and went to stand, he was quick to grab your waist though and pull you back to him. He rolled you both to your side and tugged the blanket he had over you both. You made a contented noise snuggling in closer to smell his scent, bergamot, rosemary and brandy.

“Why do you think I don’t like you?” He asked suddenly as you were almost asleep.

“M to different, annoying, not your type” you mumbled tucking yourself more under his chin your inner omega practically purring, if you could purr you probably would. He tensed again and you grumbled softly arm going over his waist.

“I do like you” he sighed and you just said a small hm, feeling yourself drifting off to sleep.

“More than you realise little pup” he muttered, but you were already asleep. He felt himself tug you impossibly closer, hearing your content sigh and feeling you snuggle deeper into the embrace. He thought it the other way around, you were good, nice, practically humming with warmth, your smile was like the sun and he was the shadow. Lurking always ready to stab someone in the back or front if needed, obsessed with revenge and always in fear of his masters invisible collar around his neck. You deserved someone who could take care of you and your omega needs, hells you smelt like warm vanilla and honey, a scent somehow familiar to him, he just doesn’t remember where from. He wanted you to himself, as a lover, a partner and equal, he didn’t want to snuff out your sunshine, no matter how cold and cool he played it in the outside.

Everyone else had woken up before you both, Shadowheart had found Karlach staring at something. The half elf went to her and Karlach quickly shut her up before she could say anything making her highly confused before Karlach grinned a silent giggle leaving her lips as she pointed to the bed roll. Shadowheart raised her eyebrows slightly seeing you tucked securely in the vampires embrace, head under his chin, you looked so content for the first time since you travelled together. Your sweet omega scent calm and safe, you’d forgotten your suppressants, it made her smile. Wyll stood by her side a small smile on his face too as Karlach almost squealed in delight before Minsc spoke loudly to greet you.

You were the first to wake up at the loud voice of Minsc. Your head pounded, but you felt overly warm, comforted and safe in someone’s embrace, gods what did you do last night? You heard Astarions growl of annoyance and realised he was the one holding you. Karlach was huffing and groaning at Minsc while your mind reeled.

“I’m so sorry- I don’t remember-“ you went to back away from the elf, but he stopped you.

“Gods you’re stupid sometimes” he muttered before his lips pressed to yours. You laid frozen as he gave you a tender kiss before pulling away.

“What?” You said dumbly and the vampire rolled his eyes.

“Come darling, I think we need a chat” he said stretching before standing up and holding his hand out to you with a small smile. You hadn’t seen that smile before, kindness.

You took his hand.

[illubean]

Can u write for Illumi who during the hunter exam gets a crush on reader who looks very delicate and feminine, but later he finds out he's a man?

(Insert clever title here)

Characters: Illumi Zoldyck Type: Oneshot, Male!reader

he dig also i couldn't think of a title for this one LMAO

Warnings: canon typical violence? also for the purpose of being "feminine" reader has long hair and wears a skirt i imagine reader being in eglfashion but you don't have to it was just the first thing that came to mind

Illumi wasn't too sure what it was but there was something about a certain contestant in the hunter exams that happened to catch his eye. Perhaps it was the way they looked so out of place, seemingly to dainty and delicate for an exam such as this.

You looked as though you should be home in your father's castle, reading in a garden or something. Maybe your elegance is what drew Illumi to you. Your long flowing hair and the cute skirt you chose to wear was something Illumi could appreciate, as he too liked to dress his best.

During the fourth phase of the exam, Illumi awoke from his slumber earlier than he had anticipated. Having nothing better to do, he decides to seek you out, curious as to how you've managed to hold up this long. To quell his own curiosity he decided to watch you.

From afar of course.

He sat high up in a tree and spotted you sitting by the river, watching the fish and how the water flowed downstream. This was a gorgeous scene to the assassin, though he could not explain why. Yes nature is beautiful and yes there was no doubt that you were easy on the eyes but there's no way that Illumi could be attracted to you, right? It's not a feeling a good assassin should have. So, ignoring the way his heart tells him to approach you and wanting to get to know you he continues to watch from above, boiling these feelings down to simple curiosity.

Through his observations, Illumi noticed something different about you. He had realized he's never once heard you speak and you were awfully flat chested for a woman. After some time he brushed these thoughts off, he hadn't spent any time close enough to you to hear you speak and your cup size was simply just none of his business. The faintest sound of rustling leaves coming from the bushes below caught both your and Illumi's attention.

You snapped your head in the direction of the sound just in time to see some rando jump out at you. You swiftly dodge their attack, hitting them on the back of the neck and watching them fall to the ground, paralyzed. You could only assume that they drew your number at the beginning of the phase. You had already collected all the points you needed, but decided to take any badges off of the person before you.

"I don't really need these, but you tried attacking me and I don't like that very much. And it was a lousy attempt at that," you scoff, standing up and holding the two badges you just pulled out of their vest.

Illumi both heard and watched the scene unfold, now knowing what your voice sounds like. Again, it was quite odd for a woman.

"Oh and you can stop watching me now," you speak up again, looking up towards Illumi's spot in the tree.

He was impressed to say the least. Managing to notice the eldest of the Zoldyck children was a feat of its own but you had somehow known since the beginning. Maybe if he was attracted to you, which by the way he totally isn't, it wouldn't be so bad. You could be a fine addition to the family.

Having been caught, he jumped down from his spot in the tree and stood to face you.

"Nice work. You took out your opponent with a single blow and managed to notice me despite my concealed presence," he complimented.

"I know my way around the human body. And as for you," you say, looking him up and down. "I just happen to be very vigilant."

Now that he had gotten a chance to speak to you and has seen the smallest glimpse of what you're capable of, Illumi decides to cut to the chase. Despite you being a complete stranger, he had deemed you worthy enough to bring you to Kukuroo mountain and watch your attempt at the testing gates. His mother would be happy to find out that he had found a potential suitor. If anything were to go wrong Illumi was confident that you wouldn't be able to take him on, let alone the entire family.

"Why don't you come back home with me after this is all over. Assuming you survive, of course."

Your eyes widen slightly at his straightforwardness before you let out a laugh and offer your answer.

"Sure thing pretty boy but there's one thing you should know first. I'm a man."

Illumi's brain flat lines at those 3 simple words and all he can let out is a confused "Oh."

Those weird things he noticed about you now made sense. This wasn't the worst thing ever considering he was already technically married to Hisoka(a man) for business. And from what Illumi can tell you're strong and have a good sense of fashion, meaning his mother would like you. The only possible issue in pursuing you was that the two of you probably wouldn't be able to have biological children.

While Illumi was having an inner battle, you caress his shoulder as you walked away.

"I'll leave you to think about that for a while."

A shock traveled down his spine as he stood, finally coming to a decision.

Fuck it, I'll make it work.

[coriolantha]

‧˚₊•୨ Patience ୧•‧₊˚⊹

mike schmidt x GN! reader

summary: mike comforts you after you've had a long day₊˚⊹:˚｡⋆୨୧˚

tags: fluff, mike being a sweetheart (as always), anxiety, reader has bad self image, insecurities, reader is overwhelmed and needs a break (so real), hugging, cuddling, comfort

wc: 1.1k

notes: hii this is my first fic i've posted on here. ngl i'm... scared. im not proud of this but i can't scrap it this time otherwise i'm never gonna get anything posted LMAO. please leave any criticism in the comments if you'd like, feel free to share any opinions, i want to improve the quality of my writing! thank you sm for reading! 🫶

today has been punishing.

rain trickled down the foggy window, making soft tapping sounds as they hit and fell, reluctantly racing down to gather in the weep holes. the rough, scratchy carpet beneath you beginning to burn as you shuffled around your desolate home.

exhausted, you gave up trying to distract yourself from your main task; your bedroom.

your eyes darted around your cluttered room, glossing over as you noticed every individual piece of clothing that wasn't hung up, organized, and neatly put away. you began to have a headache thinking about where to even begin. you felt like a filthy slob, your surroundings perfectly reflecting how you've felt all day.

you flicked the lights off, the warmly lit room now becoming pitch black, except for the small gleam of light that came through the open door. you sat on your bed, absentmindedly kicking your various pants and t-shirts away from you to give yourself some room to lay down.

mike wouldn't be back home for a while now. it was only 12:45am, which gave you 5 hours and 25 minutes to attempt to sleep before having to get ready for your office job... which would leave little to no time to spend with mike.

fuck mondays.

turning over to your side, you hugged your knees, shivering. no amount of blankets could fix how cold you felt. the truth was, you missed your boyfriend; longing for his cozy hugs and soft, gentle kisses he'd press against your cheek as he consoled you.

you missed him more than anything in the world.

with a blink, the tears that have been collecting in your eyes came down your flushed face at once. laying there, you accepted your pitiful reality, slowly drifting off into unwanted slumber, in solitude.

the time was around 2am when you felt a dip into the bed. panicking, you quickly awoke, shuffling to sit up as fast as possible. although you didn't know of the time, something felt off. mike wasn't supposed to be home yet, that's for sure.

panic turned into confusion as you heard mike, obviously feeling guilty for having jumpscaring you so badly.

"oh, shit- baby, it's me," he whispered apologetically, reaching his hand out to cup your cheek. turning on the dim lamp, he quickly turned back to face you. his eyes bore into yours, scanning to make sure you were going to be alright.

all day he was desperate to see your face, even after his shorter-than-usual-shift. mike couldn't get enough of your perfection, although you always brushed him off whenever he ever mentioned this to you.

he noticed your terrified expression which started to wear off, beginning to blend into relief.

"it's just me... you don't need to worry about anything, okay? i'm right here, no one's gonna hurt you," he muttered, leaning over to press a chaste kiss on your lips, lingering longer than usual.

weight lifted off your shoulders as you began to put pieces together. now, all you needed was an answer to your burning question.

"mike, why did you come home so early? did something happen?" you asked anxiously, looking right back at your boyfriends affectionate, adoring eyes.

"oh, sweetheart..." he soothed, "i got let out early today. nothing worth worrying about. i guess they didn't need me as much as i thought they did," he let out a quick, dry laugh, shaking his head dismissively.

"fuck, i've missed you all day, i'm so damn glad i could leave that job early. anything to see you, my love," he cooed, brushing a strand of hair out of your face, delicately tucking it behind your ear

you were in awe; it was a miracle he came home early, especially today. you were fighting to hold your tears back, mouth quivering as you bit your bottom lip. mike noticed your change in emotion immediately.

"hey hey hey," he whispered urgently, quickly grabbing your hand and giving it a light squeeze, "what's wrong?" his voice drowned in concern.

"i did nothing all day. the only thing i've done is just stand around and... thought of doing something, but i couldn't. i was so tired, but of what? like, why didn't i clean our room? and the worst part is, you have to come home, tired as hell, ready to go to sleep, only to see your messy room and your partner who still hasn't done anything about it," you quavered, sniffling softly as warm tears fell from your eyes.

mike said nothing, but you could sense how hurt he felt after you talked so badly about yourself. he sighed, laying down on the plush mattress. he patted his chest, inviting you to rest your head there. you did so immediately, closing your eyes as you listened closely to his heart beat.

"you know i love you, right?" he asked gently. you stayed quiet, knowing he wasn't expecting an answer.

"i love everything about about you. but the only thing i don't love is how badly you talk of yourself. i hate it. it doesn't make any sense to me," he stressed, stroking your hair soothingly.

"so what if our room is messy? i don't think about that when i come home. all i think about is how i can finally be with you. i'm not going to let some clothes on the floor get in the way of us, ever. or anything, in fact."

you nodded in agreement silently, your tears dry on your cheeks.

"we can tackle this room together. we can do this however you want- i can pick up your clothes while you organize them into whichever area they go to, and i'll pick up my clothes too, but you won't have to organize that, i'll take care of it. how does that sound?" he asked delicately.

you instantly felt a huge weight lift off your shoulders.

"thank you so much, mike. you don't know how much i needed you today," you exhaled, "really."

he looked down lovingly at you, curled up beside him. he kissed your head tenderly, rubbing up and down your back.

goosebumps spread across your arms. you felt so loved and safe.

"the real question is," you suddenly asked, "how are you so perfect? were you made in a factory or something?"

"says you," he laughed, holding you tighter.

the two of you basked in the love you had for one another for a while. no words were exchanged, only him occasionally rubbing his thumb against your arm, while you began to doze off, which caught his attention.

"want me to turn the light off?"

you nodded, wrapping your arm around his stomach.

he turned over once more, pulling the cord of the lamp light, the room now pitch black.

"i love you," he whispered, turning to his side a little more so he could be pressed closer against you.

"i love you too, mike. always," you mumbled back, the two of you drifting off to sleep.

₊˚⊹:˚｡⋆₊୨୧₊˚⊹:˚｡⋆₊

dividers by @f-loqweres 🫶

[aritsukemo]

Your heart's too big for your body.. | Muichiro and Yuichiro Tokito

Warnings: Mentions of the reader throwing up in Yuichiro's part! All my emetophobic folks beware!!

A/N: I honestly don't know what this is lmao- I planned a completely different set of characters when I wrote this but as I was listening to Melanie Martinez's Crybaby album, I guess my mind just went to two characters who bring me a bunch of comfort. Like, as I listened, I felt kinda sad so my mind just imagined a bunch of scenarios with these two comforting someone.. ( Also, in case anyone's confused. Muichiro's part is set in a more modern au like the Kimetsu Academy au, Yuichiro's isn't )

"What the fuck," Is the first thing the teal-streaked medic mumbled when you stumbled into the Butterfly Manor half conscious, blood dripping from your head. and your hand poorly covering your stomach which had a horrifyingly-large gash on the center of it.

"T- Tokito.." You called, although you could barely get the words out before you tilted. Luckily, Yuichiro caught you in time before you completely hit the floor.

As your head hit his shoulder, a quick wave of panic shot through him. After all, it wasn't often that a Hashira—especially one of your caliber—to come in this wounded, or wounded at all for that matter.

As he helped you to your feet, Yuichiro threw your arm over his shoulder, ignoring your blood that had quickly begun to stain his clothes, and called for some assistance before guiding you to the nearest patient room and sitting you down on the bed where you immediately flopped over.

"Shit," He cursed out, finally noticing how bad of a state you had gotten yourself in. You showed obvious signs of having a concussion—a severe one at that. But he had little time to focus on that before you began choking.

With quick movements, Yuichiro helped you sit up only for you to immediately fall forward and cough up your stomach, staining the bottom half of his clothes with your blood and what was most likely your breakfast, shit.

It was only then that the Kakushi had rushed in, staring at the sight in surprised horror only to finally rush to your side after Yuichiro shouts at them to unbutton your uniform vest and press down on your stomach wound while he prepared the bandages...

When you finally awoke, you were experiencing one of the worst headaches of your life. The Kakushi had long been sent off, but Yuichiro was still there. Towering over you, scrutinizing you.

"How are you feeling?" Was the first thing he said. It came out in a rushed, whispered tone of voice instead of his usual vexed one.

"My head hurts.." You mumbled in which he hums and mumbles something involving Shinobu and medication under his breath. Although, it was hard to really concentrate on his mumbling when your head felt like it was being split open and the strong taste of metal was lingering on your tongue..

"So what happened while you were out?" Surely you had run into one of the Twelve. Logically speaking, there would be no other way for you to obtain such injuries. Unless you somehow tripped into a bear's mouth or something on your way home. Although he hopes that isn't the case. You were an idiot, but hopefully not that stupidly clumsy.

Your eyes drifted to your hands subconsciously, an expression of which the medic could only think was embarrassment slowly forming on your face.

"It was my fault," You began, and Yuichiro was already furrowing his brows, "I underestimated my opponent and nearly got another slayer killed as a result.."

"There was another demon slayer there?" His voice suddenly grew low as hed muttered his next words with poorly masked dread, "..What happened to them?"

"They..ran away," Wait..what?

"They did..what?" The sudden sharpness of his tone has you wanting to shrink away from him, "Say it again. I want to hear it. Now."

"There.. There were multiple slayers.. One of them attempted to help out, but in the end..when I was pushed back.." You pause, looking for the right words to your next sentence that wouldn't shove the truth of what happened in your face. The disheartening truth that makes your chest tighten and your heart sting. The truth that your comrades had left you to die, "I awoken and my comrades..had all..retreated to safety."

"So, they left you to die," You wince. The way he always worded things always sounded so painful to hear. It squeezed at your heart in a way that made your eyes sting and your throat tighten, but you try to brush it off as best you can.

"No, they just—"

"Decided to save their own worthless asses as soon as the fight didn't go their way and left you to clean up the mess?" As his anger grew, so did his voice, "No way you slice this will make the truth any less apparent that they left you for dead!"

"How many times have I told you about this? You need to understand that most people only care about keeping themselves happy and alive and don't care who dies at the expense of that! Not you, or me, or anyone else!" He's right. Both of you are aware of that and as a result, silence replaces any words that would've been spoken after that—well, that and the tears that are beginning to form in your eyes because of the intense stinging..

You raise you hand, your eye instinctively closing as you wipe at your eye, your tears smear as a result, but you could care less. As long as it got rid of them.

At some point, the silence was broken with the sharp sigh that slipped from Yuichiro's soft lips. He shuffles closer before leaning down where the coldness of his thumbs comes in contact with the warm skin just under your eye. They capture the tears that manage to escape and gently flicks them away.

"You shouldn't waste your tears. Not on them, and certainly not on me.." He tells you, but it only makes you want to cry harder—which you ended up doing.

"I'm.. I'm sorry..*hic*.. I.. I.." You couldn't even get your words out from how much you were choking. This was so embarrassing and you wished you could just crawl in the hole and never come out of it..

But you can't. So you'll just have to make do with Yuichiro caging his arms around you as you sobbed instead.

"Thank you for coming," You told him, intending for it to sound more like an happy and excited little kid than a heartbroken and dissapointed adult. He looks around, streamers and banners decorate the walls, rounded tables and chairs were dressed down in various colored flowers and other assortments—all of which were mixed and matched in your favorite colors—and a beautiful multi-tiered cake sitting in the middle of a long rectangular table in the back of the room—the cake's decor trailing down the layers and onto the table where it then hangs off the wood, like hanging wisteria trees..

Not a soul in sight.

It was confusing to him. He vividly remembers the long nights with you, both of you up at ungodly hours, dressed down in your pajamas. He remembers being on the phone with you, staring intently at the slumped beds that had begun to slowly form under your bottom lashes and the faded look of drowsiness on your drooping face. He remembers your hands, tiny cuts of all shapes and sizes dented in your skin from the many slip ups and paper attacks that happened that night and previous night. He remembers the afternoons slowly turning to evenings and then nights and he remembers you working nonstop on your invitation cards. Each were just a tad bit different, some of the handmade decorations being different sizes and beautified certain ways to mask the small but noticeable mistakes you made on some of them. He remembers how proud you looked everytime you finished a card, showing him while flashing the widest grin he's ever seen from you. He remembers how pretty each card looked..

Why didn't anyone show up?

"I suppose everyone was busy today," You said, but he couldn't tell if you were trying to answer the silent question in the air or trying to tell yourself that to make yourself feel better, "I knew I should've waited til' the weekend.."

"Why.. Where is.." He didn't know what to say. You were pretty well known throughout school, everyone loved you or so it seemed. Why is he the only one here?

"Y'know, when I first started passing out the cards, most people told me that they probably couldn't make it. It made me a little sad, but then I was asked if I could help them out.." You told him. He hated the look in your eyes as you said it, "Heh..I ran all over the place running errands for all those people..they said that because of me they'll have enough time to at least stop by and drop off their gifts.." You began to walk, your shoes dragging against the wooden flooring of your living room, Muichiro cringed at the screaking sound it made.

"I did all of that..and no one showed. I waited all day.." Your voice was so shaky and fragile, like a mirror slowly cracking. It felt like the shards of glass were slowly falling off and shoved down his throat.

Then your voice suddenly raised, "But it's okay!" You said, "It's okay," You repeated, "That just means there's more cake for the two of us to enjoy!" You stop right infront of the large cake, your head rolling to look back at him. His own mirror began to slowly crack as his teal eyes met your teary ones and you flashed him a smile, one thinned out instead of the usual full, bright one you always blessed him with.

It was heartbreaking. It made him want to cry. And he did. He didn't realize it, but the tears had begun to slide down his cheeks one after another..

"I'm..so sorry," He said as if he wasn't the only one standing here before you, "..I'm so sorry, Y/n.."

"Why are you apologizing? It's okay, Mui. Don't feel bad. I'm okay.." You croaked, watching with your bottom lip shaking as he neared you. Biting down on the skin when he enveloped you and his sobs filled your ears.

"It's okay. I'm okay. I'm..I.." With a loud hiccup to signal that the dam has broke, you fell apart completely. Body trembling as you leaned into his shoulder, mumbling words of reassurances over and over like a damaged record.

"I'm..fine.. I'm okay.. No need to cry.." You said, but your words comforted neither him or you—if anything, it only made your tears come out in quicker, thicker clumps, completely ruining the little makeup look you had spent an embarrassing amount of time doing.

At some point, you two hit the floor. Neither of you noticed it, but you were curled up in each others arms on the cold, lonely floor. Tears wetting each others' sleeves. It was a mortifying sight. If anyone walked in, there's a chance you'd both be made fun of for being such crybabies over a simple birthday party gone wrong.

But you never left his embarace and he never left yours. You both sat there, tangled in that messy embrace and sobbing, heavy feelings weighing in both of your hearts.

Dividers were made by me, pictures used are from Pinterest, post formatting is inspired by @xxsabitoxx

[kat-thepoet]

Invisible string

CHAPTER ONE

A/N: I did a poll even though I was going to write it lmao but here you go! This is going to be a long series so don't expect it to be a couple one shots.

Description: Flora Quinnell is a 23 year old who has been living in an orphanage with nuns. She's a mutant who has invisibility, telekinesis, and empathy abilities. She gets recruited by Charles Xavier to be a teacher at his school. Everything is all well until she meets Erik, who makes her life there a living hell.

Word count: 4605

I awoke to the warm embrace of sunlight pouring in through the open window, accompanied by a gentle morning breeze caressing my skin. The weather in July was unexpectedly cool. I quickly checked the clock on the wall-9 a.m. It was Sunday, which meant most of the kids were in Bible study, meaning this morning would be peaceful.

I've lived at this orphanage my entire life. Left here as a newborn, the nuns took me in. For 23 years, this has been my home, and I'm grateful for the life I've had. I can't imagine anyone caring for me better than my godmother, Nun Melinda. She raised me as if I were her own child. I don't feel anger or bitterness toward whoever left me here. In time, I stopped thinking about my parents, certain they had their reasons. After all, they left me in a place where I've been cared for and loved in a world that's not always kind to people like me.

I reached under my bed and pulled out the willow basket I was left in. Its light brown weaving remained intact, and inside, the small yellow blanket lay neatly folded. A faint scent still lingered-of a newborn. When I was younger, I would clutch it at night, longing for the parents I'd never know. Over time, I realized perhaps it was for the best, and I slowly moved on.

As I looked through my closet, I decided to wear a brown sweater with a skirt that fell just above the knee. I combed my hair, washed my face at the small sink in the corner of my room, and brushed my teeth. Afterward, I grabbed the book sitting on my nightstand and walked downstairs to the back porch.

As I sat in my favorite chair, I watched the birds chirp in the beautiful morning light. The flowers swayed gently in the breeze, and the smell of coffee filled the air, making my stomach grumble.

I should eat, I thought. But before I could get up, Nun Melinda walked outside, holding a tray with a coffee mug and cookies.

"Good morning, Nun Melinda," I smiled.

"Good morning, dear. I brought you some coffee. Drink up while it's still warm," she said, setting the tray down on the patio table.

"Thank you, Nun Melinda. You didn't have to."

"Nonsense, I don't mind," she replied, her voice soft. "There's something I need to mention. I received a call-some people are coming to talk to you. They'll be here in a few minutes."

"Do you know what they want?" I asked, feeling the soothing liquid warm my throat.

"Something about a teaching position. I didn't get many details."

"Teaching position? I wonder what that's about," I said, nibbling on one of the cookies.

"Come to the lounge once you're finished," she said, giving me a peck on the cheek.

With that, she left, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

A teaching job? Why me, of all people? I asked myself, slowly sipping my coffee. Once I finished, I walked to the living room. There, Nun Melinda sat with two visitors-a bald man in a wheelchair and a blonde woman with a pale complexion. As I stepped closer, they all turned to look at me.

Nun Melinda was the first to speak. "Flora, this is Professor Charles Xavier, and this is Raven."

They stood, well one of them did and I shook their hands.

"It's nice to meet you," I said, studying the strangers in front of me.

"It's nice to meet you too," they both said in sync.

"Would you like tea or coffee?" Nun Melinda offered.

"None, thank you," Charles replied. "We're fine."

"I'll leave you three to talk then," she said, disappearing from the room.

I sat awkwardly, glancing between the two strangers. "So... why are you here?" I asked.

Charles was the first to speak. "We're looking for someone to teach at my school, Flora. Someone like you."

"Like me?" I asked, confused. "Why me? I don't have any experience or even a degree."

Raven spoke up. "It's hard to find teachers willing to work at a school for mutants, especially ones who are mutants themselves."

I froze. "How do you know-?"

Before I could finish, Charles touched two fingers to his temple, and suddenly, they both disappeared.

I jumped up. "Professor? Raven?"

They reappeared just as quickly, making me flinch.

"I'm just like you," Charles said calmly.

I looked at Raven, intrigued. "Are you a mutant too?"

She didn't answer verbally. Instead, her skin shifted into blue scales, revealing her true form.

Charles nodded. "Now, show us what you can do."

I hesitated but took a breath, focusing on the shift in my body. Within seconds, I turned invisible. I waited a couple seconds for their reaction and I quickly returned visible again, feeling a little self-conscious under their watchful eyes.

"Extraordinary," Charles said, clearly impressed. "Is that all you can do?"

I shook my head. "I can also create force fields, I have telekinesis-which I'm still working on-and then empathy."

"Empathy?" Raven asked.

"Yes. I can control and sense emotions with a touch. It came in handy when I was caught doing something I wasn't supposed to," I said with a small laugh.

They both looked at me with interest. After a moment, Charles spoke again.

"When did you discover your powers?"

"When I was little, I would accidentally turn invisible when I was distressed or scared. The nuns here knew I was different from the other kids, but they didn't mind. They just kept it a secret because people like me-mutants-aren't exactly deemed normal. Later, in my teenage years, I met a boy named Lucas who worked at a nearby farm. He was a mutant too, so we practiced our powers in secret. Eventually, I discovered I could control my invisibility and that I could move things with my mind."

Raven and Charles exchanged a glance before Charles spoke again. "We need someone like you at our school. There are children who need your guidance."

I hesitated, feeling the weight of his words.

"But I've lived here my whole life. This is all I've ever known," I said, fidgeting with my lip.

"There are kids who need you and have no one. Orphans, just like you," Raven said as Charles nodded in agreement.

"You already have the most important qualities," Charles continued. "Compassion, understanding, and a unique perspective. The rest, we can help with."

Raven added, "You'll have support. And more importantly, you'll grow alongside the students."

Their words lingered in my mind. Maybe it was time for a change. I had lived here my whole life, and perhaps this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I looked at them, making up my mind.

Fuck it

I took a deep breath. "Okay," I said. "I'll give it a try."

I quickly went upstairs, grabbed a bag, and began packing my clothes and important belongings. After I was done, I looked around my room one last time feeling a little homesick already. 

let's do this. I quickly closed the door and walked down stairs. 

Nun Melinda was once again standing with Charles and Raven but at the front door. As I approached, she turned around and wrapped me in a warm hug. 

I hugged her back tightly, feeling a mix of emotions swirling inside me. "Take care of yourself, my dear," she whispered. "You're going to do great things."

"Thank you, Nun Melinda," I replied, my voice slightly trembling. "I'll miss you. I'll miss all of you."

She pulled back and gave me a reassuring smile. " We'll all miss you too, but this is your time to be independent and grow." 

With one last look around the place that had been my home for so long, I nodded to Charles and Raven, ready to step into the unknown.

The ride to the school wasn't too long, but my mind was spinning the entire time. As Raven drove, all I could think about was the life I had left behind and the one waiting for me. This was my chance-a new chapter outside the orphanage. A chance to build the life I'd always dreamed of.

As we turned onto the driveway leading to the school, I was struck by the beauty of the place. Tall trees bordered the road, their leaves lush and green, casting gentle shadows over the landscape. The air smelled fresh, and the surroundings felt alive with possibility.

When we approached the school, I noticed children scattered across the grounds. Some sat under trees, engrossed in books, while others played basketball or ran around, their laughter filling the air. The school was larger than I had imagined-much bigger. The sheer size of the building made me feel small for a moment.

Stepping out of the car, I finally got a full view of the place. The main building was impressive, with grand, arched windows and a stately presence. Vines climbed up its stone walls, curling around the structure in a way that made it look both ancient and alive, like the building was growing from the earth itself. It was beautiful-wild and majestic, just like nature.

Raven helped Charles out of the car and into his wheelchair while I stood there, still in awe of the campus. The possibilities of this new life swirled in my mind as I tried to imagine myself here, surrounded by people like me. I grabbed my bag and joined them, walking beside Charles and Raven toward the entrance.

"What do you think?" Charles asked, his voice calm yet curious.

I glanced around at the sprawling grounds, the towering trees, the vibrant life everywhere.

"It's... amazing," I replied, my voice tinged with wonder. "I didn't think the place would look this nice and feel so full of love."

Charles chuckled as we approached the grand entrance. "It's more than just a school, Flora. It's a home for many who've felt out of place in the world. You'll find that here, I promise."

I nodded, taking in his words. The weight of my decision began to settle in, and I wondered if I truly belonged in a place like this. But something about the atmosphere, the serenity mixed with the underlying sense of purpose, gave me hope.

As we entered through the large wooden doors, the inside was just as grand as the outside. The hallways stretched ahead, lined with paintings and intricate woodwork. Students bustled past, some nodding in acknowledgment as we walked by. The air hummed with energy, yet it felt strangely peaceful.

Raven glanced at me. "We'll show you to your room, and later, you'll meet some of the staff. They're all really nice."

"I hope so," I said, glancing at the students. "I'm a bit overwhelmed."

Charles chuckled softly. "Give it time. You'll come to see this as your new home."

As we turned a corner, I caught sight of a window overlooking a large garden, brimming with colorful flowers and more trees. In the distance, I could see animals-a few birds, some deer grazing near the woods. A sense of comfort washed over me. Maybe this place could be a home after all.

"I'll let Raven take over. I have some important matters to attend to. I'll see you after lunch," Charles said as he slowly turned around, heading down a hallway.

"Thank you!" I called after him.

Raven led me up a winding staircase to the second floor. We reached a door at the end of the hall, and Raven pushed it open. Inside was a cozy, modest room with a large window overlooking the grounds.

"This will be your space," Raven said with a smile. "Unpack, settle in, and I'll come back for you in a little while."

I set my bag down, glancing around the room. It was simple, but the view outside the window, with the sprawling green and the animals in the distance, made it feel perfect. This was my start-my new beginning.

"Thank you," I said, turning back to her.

"You'll do great things here, Flora," Raven said, walking towards the door. "I'll see you soon."

With that, she left, and I was alone with my thoughts and new surroundings. I took a deep breath, stepping toward the window. The campus stretched out before me, full of life, and for the first time in a long while, I felt a sense of belonging.

I quickly unpacked, placing my belongings neatly in the spacious closet. The room was at least twice the size of the one at the orphanage. The bed, which looked enormous compared to what I'd been used to, had a plush purple comforter that looked incredibly inviting. I pressed my hand against it, feeling the softness. There was an empty desk in one corner, and a small TV sat on a stand near the window-a little reminder of normalcy in such an extraordinary place.

I opened the window, letting the fresh air in. The breeze was gentle but steady, causing the curtains to flutter softly from side to side. I leaned against the window frame, looking out at the vibrant green of the campus below, letting my thoughts drift. There was so much to process-so much unknown ahead of me-but for the first time in a long while, I felt something close to hope.

After a few minutes of quiet reflection, a knock on the door interrupted the calm. My heart quickened as I turned toward it. I wasn't expecting anyone so soon, and a wave of nervousness crept in.

I stood up, smoothing out the wrinkles in my clothes, and walked over to answer it.

It was Raven, standing in the doorway with a friendly smile. "Are you ready for your tour?"

I gave her a small smile, nodding as the nervousness settled again in my stomach. "Yeah, I'm ready."

"Great," she said, stepping aside to let me join her. "There's a lot to see, but I'll give you the highlights today so you don't feel too overwhelmed."

As we started down the hallway, Raven gestured toward the rooms around us. "So, in this hall, all the staff have their quarters. Erik's room is next to yours, and Storm's is on the other side. You'll meet them both later at dinner."

I nodded, mentally filing away the names. Erik and Storm. I wondered what they were like. I hoped they were nice.

"They're great," Raven continued, as if reading my thoughts. "Erik can be intense sometimes, but as long as you don't get on his bad side, you'll be fine. And Storm... well, you'll see. She's got a presence that speaks for itself."

I couldn't help but smile at that. "I'm looking forward to meeting them."

"Then there's Jean, who rooms with Scott. They're both really nice," Raven added as we walked further down the hallway. "They're engaged, so you'll probably see them together most of the time."

"Engaged? That's nice," I replied, picturing the couple in my head. I was curious about what they were like, but something told me no one here was ordinary.

"And then there's my room," she continued, gesturing toward a door a few paces away. "If you ever need anything, feel free to knock."

I gave her a grateful smile. "Thanks. I appreciate that."

"Charles sleeps on the other side of the school," Raven said with a slight chuckle. "His quarters are more private, but you'll see him plenty. He likes to keep a close eye on things around here."

I nodded, taking it all in. The people here seemed close, like a family of sorts, and though I felt a little out of place, I couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging growing.

"And then Hank's room is at the end of the hallway," Raven added with a soft smile. "He's my boyfriend, by the way."

I raised my eyebrows, intrigued. "Boyfriend, huh? How long have you two been together, if you don't mind me asking?"

Raven chuckled. "We've been dating for a couple of months now. It took me a while to get through to him, but now we're happy. You'll see him around, always working on something. But don't let his shyness fool you-he can get pretty loud."

I smiled at the warmth in her voice when she talked about him. "I'm looking forward to meeting him."

Raven led us further down the hallway, the tour giving me a sense of how close-knit this group really was. It made me feel both excited and a little anxious about fitting in.

As we walked through the school, Raven pointed out the important places since the campus was so vast-where the kids' rooms were, the classrooms (which she mentioned Charles would show me in more detail after lunch), and finally, the training area.

When we reached the basement, she opened the heavy doors, revealing an enormous room filled with high-tech equipment. In the center, two people were engaged in a heated battle with a giant robot, dodging its strikes with precision and power.

"Ah, Scott and Storm are here," Raven said casually as she began walking toward them.

I followed, wide-eyed, watching the intense scene unfold. Scott, wearing red-tinted glasses, was firing controlled beams of energy at the robot, while Storm moved gracefully, summoning wind and lightning to disorient her opponent. It was both mesmerizing and a little intimidating.

"They're training," Raven explained with a grin. "This is one of the ways we keep our skills sharp-and it looks pretty cool, right?"

I nodded, unable to take my eyes off the battle. "Yeah... this is incredible."

"All the teachers train here," she added casually.

I blinked. "Wait... all teachers? As in, I will too?"

Raven paused, then stepped back with a sheepish smile. "Oh, I guess the cat's out of the bag. Charles was supposed to tell you."

"Tell me what?" I asked, a sense of unease creeping in.

"Well, all staff members are required to train at least twice a week. And... well, all of the X-Men are teachers here. That just leaves you."

I stared at her, processing the words. "Wait, you guys want me to be an X-Men? I thought I was here for a teaching job."

Raven chuckled softly. "You are. But part of teaching here is also protecting the students. We're more than just a school, Flora. Charles believes you have potential-not just to teach, but to help keep everyone safe."

I swallowed hard, my mind racing. "I've never fought anything in my life, let alone... robots or whatever that thing is."

Raven placed a hand on my shoulder, her expression reassuring. "We'll train you. You're not expected to jump into battle tomorrow. But trust me, you'll catch on. You have potential."

Before I could respond, Scott and Storm walked over, leaving the defeated robot lying motionless on the ground.

Scott, tall and serious-looking, gave me a nod. "You must be the new recruit. Welcome."

Storm smiled warmly, her presence commanding yet comforting. "It's nice to meet you, Flora. I hope you're liking the place so far."

I glanced between them, still trying to process everything. "Thanks... I just didn't realize this job came with combat training."

Scott smirked. "It's part of the package deal. But don't worry, we all started somewhere. You'll have plenty of time to get used to it."

Storm nodded in agreement. "And you won't be alone. We've got each other's backs here."

Raven chimed in. "You'll be fine, Flora. We'll make sure of it."

Their words were comforting, but I couldn't shake the nervousness bubbling inside. I'd come here to teach, but now I was stepping into a whole new world-one that involved more than just lessons in a classroom.

Lunch finally rolled around, and as I finished eating, Raven reminded me to see Charles in his office afterward. The only problem was, I couldn't exactly remember where it was. After the tour, Raven had given me a brochure to help me navigate if I got lost. This school was massive, and I wondered how anyone managed to navigate it without getting turned around.

As I wandered the hallways, the sounds of kids laughing and running around filled the space, reminding me of the orphanage. A pang of homesickness hit me, but I quickly shook it off. I was glad to be here, starting this new chapter of my life. 

The noise of the children began to fade as I moved further into the quieter parts of the building. I stopped at the end of a hallway, looking down at the small brochure in my hands. I was turning a corner when I bumped into someone, accidentally spilling his coffee all over his gray shirt.

"I'm so sorry!" I exclaimed, eyes widening as I saw the stain spreading across his chest.

The man, tall and broad-shouldered, glared down at me, his face hard as stone. His dark red hair was slicked back, and his sharp gaze sent a shiver down my spine. He glanced at his coffee-stained shirt and then back at me, clearly unimpressed.

"Watch where you're going," he muttered, brushing at the stain, though it only spread further.

"I didn't mean to... I'm just trying to find the Professor's office," I stammered, fidgeting with the hem of my skirt.

"Figures," he said, his voice low and clipped. "You're the new girl."

"I am," I replied, feeling my face flush under his intense stare.

His brow furrowed, as though the very idea of me being here annoyed him. "You're the one they're bringing in to teach? You don't exactly look prepared for it."

I bristled at his tone, my nerves tingling with irritation. "I wasn't aware there was a dress code for spilling coffee," I snapped, sarcasm slipping out before I could stop myself.

His eyes narrowed. "You won't last long here if you think it's all sarcasm and jokes."

I swallowed hard, the weight of his words settling over me. "I don't know who you are, but I didn't come here to get lectured."

He crossed his arms over his chest, his expression unchanging. "I'm Erik Lehnsherr. And you'd do well to stay out of my way."

I stared at him, recognition finally dawning. Erik. The one Raven had warned me about-the intense one. Great. Of all the people to run into, it had to be him.

"Noted," I replied coolly, stepping around him, but not before muttering under my breath, "You might want to work on your people skills, though."

I didn't wait for his reaction as I quickly walked away, my heart pounding in my chest. My face was still warm with embarrassment and frustration. Of all the first impressions I could've made, spilling coffee on the grumpiest guy in the building wasn't exactly what I had in mind.

I hurried down the hall, trying to push the encounter with Erik out of my mind. My heart was still racing, and I couldn't help but feel both embarrassed and irritated. Who did he think he was? But I had bigger concerns-like figuring out where in the world the Professor's office was.

After wandering what felt like endlessly through the halls, I was about ready to give up and ask someone for directions when I spotted something out of the corner of my eye. A small, polished brass plaque on the wall next to a large wooden door:

Professor Charles Xavier, Headmaster

I let out a sigh of relief. "Finally," I muttered, feeling a little silly for missing it before.

I raised my hand to knock, but before I could, Charles's calm voice echoed in my mind, as clear as if he were standing right next to me.

Come in, Flora.

I blinked, reminded of his telepathic abilities, and stepped into the office. The room was spacious yet cozy, filled with bookshelves that lined the walls and a large desk near the window. Sunlight poured in, casting a golden glow over everything.

Charles sat behind his desk, a kind smile on his face. "I trust you're settling in well?" he asked.

I hesitated for a moment, thinking about Erik and our less-than-ideal first meeting. "Well, I'm still getting used to the place... It's much bigger than I expected."

Charles chuckled softly. "It can be overwhelming at first. But in time, it will feel like home."

I nodded, though my mind was still racing with thoughts about what had just happened. Charles seemed to sense my unease.

"Ah," he said knowingly, leaning forward slightly. "You've met Erik."

I felt my cheeks flush again. "Yes, but... it didn't go very well."

Charles smiled gently. "Don't take it personally. Erik's not one to easily warm up to new people, especially those he doesn't know yet. But give it time-he can be difficult, but once you earn his trust, you'll see there's more to him than his sharp exterior."

I sighed, feeling slightly better. "I hope you're right."

"I am," he said confidently, then motioned to the chair across from his desk. "Please, sit. We have much to discuss about your role here."

I sat down, still feeling a bit out of my element but more at ease as I faced Charles across his large desk. His calm demeanor made it easier to breathe through the nerves that lingered in the back of my mind.

"As you know," Charles began, "our school is unique. We're not just a place for education; we're a sanctuary for those who feel they don't belong in the outside world. The students here, like you, have abilities that set them apart. It's our job to help them understand those abilities and how to use them wisely."

I nodded, listening closely. Despite the calm surroundings, the weight of the responsibility was starting to settle on my shoulders.

"I believe you can offer something very special here, Flora," he continued. "You have extraordinary gifts that can be used out in the field."

I looked at him, remembering what Raven told me before. "You mean, like becoming an X-Man?"

"Indeed. You have potential, and I know you can become one of the best," he said as he rolled toward me.

"I still feel like I'm not qualified for this," I admitted, my fingers fidgeting with the edge of my sweater. "I've never taught anyone before, or even fought anyone. I don't know how I'd handle real students, especially ones with powers."

Charles's kind smile didn't waver. "You'll find that teaching here is as much about connecting with the students as it is about formal lessons. You'll learn as you go. And you'll have the support of the other teachers, including myself. As for becoming an X-Men, that's the easiest part. We will train you."

I glanced out the window for a moment, watching a group of students playing outside, their laughter drifting through the open air. Despite my nerves, something about this place already felt like it was calling to me, as if I was meant to be here. But it was hard to imagine myself fitting in, especially with teachers like Erik, who clearly thought otherwise.

Charles must have picked up on my thoughts, because his voice softened, drawing my attention back to him. "Flora, you belong here. And I believe that in time, you'll come to see it too."

I met his gaze and nodded. "I'll try my best, Professor."

"That's all I ask," he replied, his tone warm and reassuring. "Now, why don't you take the rest of the afternoon to explore the grounds? Get to know the place and the students."

I stood, feeling both nervous and determined. "Thank you, Professor."

As I turned to leave, his voice echoed in my mind again. And Flora, he said gently, don't let Erik's attitude deter you. There's more to him than meets the eye.

I smiled faintly, pausing at the door. "I'll try to keep that in mind."

With that, I stepped out of the office and into the hallway, the heavy wooden door closing softly behind me. The air in the corridor was still, the sounds of students muffled in the distance. I stood there for a moment, letting it all sink in-the enormity of this place, the role I was stepping into, and the people I would meet.

And then there was Erik.

I took a deep breath, squaring my shoulders. Maybe Charles was right. Maybe there was more to Erik than the cold, irritated exterior I'd seen. But I wasn't about to let his attitude intimidate me. I had a job to do here, and if Erik was part of it, I'd just have to figure out how to deal with him.

Chapter: TWO

[spyres-moved]

bootleg pokemon advent calender review

so my mom got me this pokemon-themed advent calender filled with a bunch of bootleg figurines earlier this month and i opened the first door at the time but i completely forgot about it until now. so with it being christmas eve i thought it would be fun to go through each figurine for funsies because i'm utterly fascinated with what i got.

day one: muk

this was the only one i had knowledge of throughout the entire month. at first i was thinking "well if you look at it as muk's shiny then it could be passable" before remembering that muk's shiny is green and not blue. regardless, congrats to muk on the blue goo and pronouns. 3/10

day two: reuniclus

i can never spell this damn thing's name. i was pleasantly surprised to see reuniverse though, as it was evident that this calender wasn't going to just be filled with gen one pokemon like i suspected. gen five was actually tied with gen one for the most figurines with six, surpringly! unfortunately there's nothing after gen six though, not even any regional variants.

back to reunicorn, this is definitely on the higher end just for being the correct colour lmao. the bottom part of reunionize does not look like that though. 8/10

day three: clefairy

one of the better figurines for sure! while it's still evidently of bootleg quality, it could feasibly pass as official just for being the correct colours. her doing the little metronome dance from the anime in her posing is a nice touch too! 9/10

day four: tyrunt

oh my god they poured tar on him. why are his eyes soulless. he looks possessed. this makes me sad i don't like this one. 2/10

day five: dedenne

she's a little confused but she's got the spirit, i think. needs to be more orange but i guess looking like you're made of cheese is fitting for a mouse-like creature. 6/10

day six: miltank

ohhh i really hate this thing. i'm not a miltank hater by any means but this one looks gross and mouldy to me. girl go have a bath. 1/10

day seven: arbok

WHAT DID THEY DO TO MY GIRL!!!!!! SHE'S FUCKING NAKED!!!!!! sure they got the colour right but they stole her patterns!!! her most stunning feature!!!!!! she was proud of those patterns!!!! AND THEY STOLE THEM FROM HER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! hatred and anger/10

day eight: primeape

i don't want to make any comments about the eyes since i don't have strabismus, but i like that they kept his anger. the personality still manages to shine through here. the rest of the figurine is just. whatever. not the worst but not the best just completely average. 5/10

day nine: pansage

sorry the picture is ass i don't want to retake it lol. confession: while i don't really have any strong opinions on the elemental monkeys compared to a lot of fans, i do have a bit of a soft spot for pansage because i think he's adorable. rewatching the bw anime a few years back awoke that in me, and i think this one is pretty cute too! something about the :3 face just gets to me. despite missing its cream colouring, i think one is pretty solid overall! 7/10

day ten: victini

behold the extremely rare and powerful mythical pokemon victini! truly a marvel to witness! anyway i don't like that it's missing its teeth but it's okay i guess. 4/10

day eleven:

i don't really have much to say on this one tbh? i like that they gave it a stand since it would just fall over with those stubby little legs i guess but i just. don't see anything to really talk about here. 3/10

day twelve: grumpig

not as soulless-looking as tyrunt was, and maybe it's helped partially by grumpig already having some dark grey in its usual colour scheme so it doesn't look thaaat unusual, but it's still not a good one. 3/10

day thirteen: slowking

gives me the same gross and mouldy vibes as miltank but not as bad i think. i like the pose. i don't think i've ever seen slowking cross its arms like that in any official pokemon media or merch so there's some points for uniqueness. 4/10

day fourteen: darumaka

my son murngus who i fed a ball. i love this thing. this is peak. we're never getting any better than this. tpci should make this official merch. love and peace/10

day fifteen: swirlix

this is my daughter white boy. while i have criticisms with the lumps being too pronounced (they should be softer and more subtle imo) and the lack of feet, i honestly kinda love this one? it reminds me of those pathetic white dogs that look like they'll fall over if you breathe on them too hard, and while the big bumps don't give the image of candy floss like they're supposed to, this reminds me of a cloud in a way, which is still lovely to think about. 9/10

day sixteen: beartic

who hurt you beartic. the colours are right at least but. the face. 3/10

days seventeen, eighteen and nineteen: croconaw, totodile, feraligatr

i got the whole family one after another so might as well cover them together.

croconaw: the sniler...... croconaw manages to be the definition of both creepy AND wet here. it's unsettling a little bit but it gives it some personality. 6/10

totodile: i do not like that mouth whatsoever. what the fuck. 2/10

feraligatr: i have to question why feraligatr is a slightly different shade of blue than its younger siblings but that's neither here nor there. it's alright but the eyes are a bit unnerving to me. 4/10

day twenty: chimchar

the only gen four pokemon of the batch, which is sad for me as a gen four fan. it's fine but this one lacks chimchar's signature flame tail. unfortunate since chimchar canonically farting out fire is a key characteristic to me. 5/10

day twenty one: gothitelle

i look like this irl. not really much to complain about with this one side from the lack of a mouth and the face being white rather than purple. i like the complete and utter torment in her eyes. i could fix her fr. 7/10

day twenty two: grovyle

dedicating this one to my fellow pmd fans! they fucking peeled our lad!! the pose is kinda cool though. 6/10

day twenty three: aurorus

this one is a falls into the category of ugly cute to me. they used the wrong shade of blue but it's still fine imo. i simultaneously like the eyes but also don't like them. i'm very conflicted on how i feel about the finer details of this one but it's okay overall imo. 6/10

day twenty four: psyduck

ngl i was kinda hoping for something special for the last one. maybe delibird to go with it being for christmas, or another legendary/mythical, but i've been rewatching the anime again recently and they are so fucking mean to misty's psyduck that it's borderline unpleasant to watch at times, so you know what? psyduck deserves this.

it's pretty alright for a bootleg too. they got all the colours and key details right, even if it's rather shoddy, so i'll be generous with this one. 9/10

if you read all of this then thank you for joining me on this journey. i'm so glad i spent christmas eve deciding to review shitty knock-off pokemon merch rather than celebrating with my friends and family. and i'm very sorry that i released these beasts from their prison and have made them everyone else's problem now.

[rainswept]

you ask for Fontaine brain rot/reqs, I deliver.

So idk if you've done the recent archon quest and lyney/lynette story quest so if you haven;t be careful caus i will be spoling !

SO

That part where Lyney is freaking out over Freminet and Lynette had me SCREAMING especially since ive done their story quest AND ALSO FRIENDSHIP 10 LYNEY SO I HAVE THE LORE AND IT HURTS SM but I won't spoil all that for u-

so anyways, i started thinking, imagine Lyney has a lover who's been with the siblings for years (and also works for Arlecchino) and is considered another sibling by Lynette and Freminet. They were also diving with Freminet when they encountered water from the primordial sea

now imagine clorinde can only take one person with her at a time when she pulls them back, and she saves Freminet first, later going back for Lyney's s/o

Eventually Freminet wakes up like he does in the quest, but the reader just.. doesn't. Hours pass and the siblings are freaking tf out because they don't want to lose anyone.

(now I can't decide if I crave angst or if I want to comfort my babies so ill give my headcanons for both shiguegoe)

angst: Lyney's lover keeps deteriorating, parts of them gradually turning blue and quite literally withering away (caus you know the water and the dissapearances- yeah-) and the siblings can do nothing but watch

Lynette shuts down more frequently and for longer periods, not even saying anything to Lyney

Freminet blames himself for not noticing sooner, for not getting them out sooner

And then there's Lyney.. he blames himself for not only putting his siblings in danger, but losing his lover...

He sits by their bed watching as they wither away, holding their hand. He knows Father will be upset by his lack of comitment to the mission but he can't bring himself to care

The day they pass, no one says a word. They continue with their mission, report to Father, go on with their Fontainian lives until they're alone and they cry. they cry and scream and curse whatever archons or god's are listening.

AND NOW BEFORE I CRY THE HAPPIER VERSION

After days of not waking up, they finally open their eyes.

Lyney is fretting over them asking if they know where they are, who he is, what happened etc

now to throw in a tidbit of angst, what if they awoke with some disability? like they cant see anymore, they can't hear properly, cant walk properly etc

Lyney and Freminet would devasted because they blame themselves. Lynette would be quick to remind her brothers at least everyone is alive.

It'd be bad because with a disability, they can't work for Father anymore, or at least not the way they used to

AHHEOGUHEOG im stuck in a neverending brain rot my guy

Anyways. I was actually going to request for you to write your own take on this but you don't have to if you dont want- even just hearing your take would be nice lmao

also if its ok i reallly wanna be mutuals! I just found you blog and im obssesed!! I really wanna be friends<3

NO BECAUSE I SCREECHED SO LOUD MULTIPLE TIMES READING THIS !! THANK U SO MUCH YES OFC I WANNA BE MUTUALS/FRIENDS!! genuinely absolutely made my day to have u ask that oh my god??

also don’t worry about spoiling anything for me, i’ve read every little bit of lyney/lynette/freminet lore out there 😭 and i’ve done all of the new fontaine archon quests already (i need help. it’s okay though!)

as for angst — u know me so well already this is my forte. cracks knuckles here i go

freminet feels as if something is off.

already beginning to panic, he turns to you in a hurry. the water swishes in his ears. when you meet his gaze, wide-eyed, the gut ‘feeling’ turns into a full-blown punch to it. oh, now he realizes; he can’t breathe. his heart’s racing, chest tightening and throat feeling as if it’s closing up.

you reach out, and exchanging unspoken words, you two turn around and make to retrace your patterns with haste. hand in hand, you race against frittered time; but even your best efforts are not enough, and the both of you are forced to acknowledge it when freminet’s vision begins to turn spotty.

he got in the water first; he’s gone before you are. his body floats limp beside you as you drag him along through the water, even as the surroundings grow hazy for you, too. a cold tingle runs up your spine as you consider the possibility; is this the end?

(when you had left for the pipes, the most you had exchanged with lyney was a quick kiss on the cheek as a goodbye. that wouldn’t do.)

but even as you try desperately to cling to life .. the “sea” is a cruel thing, and it does not care for your mortal frivolities. (a proper goodbye? .. foolish.) with cold, disorienting water enveloping your senses from all sides, your only grounding thing being freminet’s (rapidly cooling) fingers against yours — it didn’t take long before you succumbed to the “sea”, too.

(your last thought as the world went dark was “i’m sorry.”)

(even in your barely conscious state, you feel another wave of panic surge through you when freminet’s fingers slip away from yours — but you don’t have enough energy to hold on.)

reader lives:

the incessant thrum of the water rushing through pipes rattled in your ears. your whole body was sore, weak and tired; and all of your limbs felt like lead attached to you via shoddy workmanship. your head hurt like hell, and what’s worse is that the moment you opened your eyes, you were immediately met with the sight of the three people you cherished most.

first, there was freminet, who was sitting on the bed opposite to yours. his posture fixes from a slouch into proper the moment he spots you, perhaps in.. excitement? shock? you weren’t sure. his eyes lit up, though.

second, there was lynette. she was .. a bit more on edge than usual. that was .. to be expected, of course, but really. you were out for.. what, an hour or two? come on, all four of you put yourselves in danger all the time. what was different about this?

(what was different was the fact that you were not out for an hour or two. no, make that days. they were sure to remind you of this.)

then, there was lyney. for him, the world seemed to stop.

lyney, who was pacing the room in sheer desperation. he walked and walked, boots timed and in tune with the clocks and dripping water from the pipes. in his nervousness, he had unwittingly created a quite fitting melody.

(the only sounds once he ceases walking are the clocks and the water dripping from the pipes.)

lyney, who had rushed to your bedside the moment he had noticed you were up. he looked exhausted, but the second you were awake the mask was .. attempted .. to be put back on. however .. it didn’t take someone as observant as you, or even one who knew him so well, to notice that it was placed crooked.

(how absurd he looked, trying to put on a front everyone in the room knew was one.)

why, even, you would have bet that it could’ve been surmised by a child. once again, emphasis on ‘you would have’, for there was no time for thinking about that when he rushed to your bedside and enveloped you into an embrace. you didn’t miss the way his fingers grasped at the back of your shirt in downright desperation.

(in clear, bold letters, it reads; “if nothing else, please let this be real.”)

he slots himself beside you and, wordlessly, holds you close. he doesn’t need words — neither of you do. this is enough.

lynette and freminet looked on, neither of them opening their mouths when lyney buries his face into the crook of your neck and stays there for just a bit too long. he doesn’t cry. instead, he whispers shakily against your skin; “i thought i’d lost you.”

(the only sounds once he ceases speaking are the clocks and the water dripping from the pipes.

(no one speaks up just yet.)

(the only sounds in the room are the clocks and the water dripping from the pipes.)

(you’re starting to think those were the only sounds ever there.)

when he finally pulls away, you notice he’s fixed his mask. lyney now smiles, and the shake in his voice is gone; but you know it’s not all better, not when he refuses to leave the infirmary even after sigewinne and the traveler inquire. you know it’s not all better, not when the four of you are alone again. lyney sits beside you on the bed, refusing to so much as stand up (he doesn’t want to let go of your hand. you don’t comment on it, but his fingers are still shaky as he holds onto yours like they’re a lifeline.)

you don’t exchange as much as a single word after that. you just bask in each other’s presence, apologies and pleas and “i love you” shared during every lingering glance between everyone in the room.

the four of you don’t need words. this is enough.

reader dies:

seven mistakes went unnoticed. seven signs went unfollowed. seven things (and five people) went wrong that day.

one: freminet.

it was entirely freminet’s fault, he thinks, it was. if only he had gotten you out of there in time. no — he shouldn’t have even brought you. he sits on the infirmary bed opposite to yours, knees pulled up to his chest, and he clutches pers with a death grip. he dips his head in such a way that his face is hidden with his hair; he doesn’t want to let lyney and lynette see him in this state. they have enough to deal with.

two: the primordial sea.

but they were bound to notice eventually, right?

“it was entirely the primordial sea’s fault,” lynette would remind, hand on freminet’s shoulder. “it wasn’t yours.”

the primordial sea. the cold and vicious waters were such a contrast to those he held so dear; what was typically calming and merciful turned to something suffocating and terrifying. but that didn’t change the fact that it was an inanimate thing.

he drops pers at the contact; it clatters to the floor; he looks down, wide-eyed and apologetic; he reaches down to pick it up. lynette does not put her hand on his shoulder again.

three: wriothesley.

“it was entirely wriothesley’s fault,” lyney wants to scream. he’s frantic, pacing the infirmary and voice cracking every time he speaks. lynette and freminet have seldom seen him so panicked. he needs to do something, he needs— he can’t. he can’t leave. once he gets his hands on wriothesley, he swears he’ll—

four: clorinde.

it was entirely clorinde’s fault. it was entirely her choice to pick only one of you to save. no one can bring themselves to be upset at her, for she did try to save both of you. but the realization slowly dawns upon the three children of the house of the hearth still with a steady heartbeat; it was either going to be you or freminet.

they realize this at different times. every time they do, they exchange a silent, quick glance.

freminet would’ve gladly given up his life. lyney and lynette, however .. they would not have been able to choose.

five: the gods.

it was entirely the gods’ fault. curse the gods, lyney thinks. he’s still pacing the room, and while he never put much stock in the divine, he was practically yelling at them now. he knew it wasn’t logical. but he needed something. what was the point of a god if not to help their people? what was the point of a god if just to watch people suffer like it’s an opera?

was she here now? was she watching? was this a “twist” for her? did she delight in this?

six: lyney.

it was entirely lyney’s fault. he shouldn’t have let you or freminet go. he shouldn’t have. he shouldn’t have let wriothesley play him like he was a deck of cards in his hands. this was all his fault. all his fault. he knew of the prophecy, dedicated his whole life to it — and yet hadn’t managed to save you from its clutches?

seven: you.

in truth — it was no one’s fault. but lyney is still pacing the room, breathing getting heavier and more rapid every time he steals a glance at you. lynette’s eyes still trace his every move, conveniently ignoring the sight of you as best she could; and freminet still has his face buried in his knees as to not look at your decaying body.

none of them can deal with the fact that it was simply an accident. no one meant for this to happen — there was no one to blame.

they needed someone to blame.

so each and every one of them blamed themselves. as lyney’s fingers grasped your cold ones, he squeezed them softly even as they began to turn blue beneath his grasp. he couldn’t bare to let you go.

and after three long days, the sun rose to find your bed empty where you had laid. you were nowhere to be found. for a moment, lyney’s heart practically leapt out of his chest, wondering .. did you get up?

but as he rushes to the bedside, his face falls. he should’ve known not to get his hopes up.

the blankets were damp where you had laid, soaked with water just as the stage in the opera epiclese had been.

lyney didn’t cry, nor did lynette or freminet.

they didn’t exchange so much as a word the day you died.

instead, they put their aching hearts and empty souls into the mission at hand. they worked twice as hard to distract themselves, and they provided excellent results for “father” — but they had barely worked together to do so.

they exchanged cold words and they held each other at night, when the pain became too much — because as much as they tried to pretend like nothing happened, that was a lie, just as the rest of their existence — but there was no mistaking it. they were now divided.

there was always you. and now there wasn’t.

lynette was the one who informed “father” of your .. whereabouts. lyney couldn’t bring himself to.

[lxnarphase]

I HATE to be that person but is it possible that we could get a pt 2 to that church Nanami fic…? It lowkey awoke something in me lmao 😩

MMM maybe what would the part two be, let's brainstorm....because i have been thinking about making a version with hiromi and his wife too 😏

ykno...nanami tries a few new things with his wife and accidentally brings it up to hiromi when the two go out for their weekly cigars and bourbon, and hiromi can't help but get confused on what nanami means when he states he misses the taste of you.

then something something it ends up with poor god-fearing higuruma begging you to quit your job and just stay at home because your so perfect and deserve to live like a princess as he's glued to ur pussy bc this is the best thing he's ever experiences and you have to tell him to stop muttering praises to god for making you just for him

mmmm HOWEVER FOR NANAMI'S PART TWO....possibly a bit of repentence with the new reverend who showed up? the one who's all smiles, has the smoothest voice and has men and women a like leaving the confessionals feeling like a new and cleansed person. yeah, maybe Mr. nanami just needs to confess his sins of giving into lust to reverend geto

so yeah maybe a part two will happen now that i have the idea :3c

[darlingdaisyfarm]

I was someone who hated Billford once upon a time but after reading your fics with Ford, Bill and the reader, it low-key awoke something within me lol. I like how you kept Bill in his actual form and not have him be directly involved and instead have him just oversee everything or have him sometimes be involved in it (like with the tendrils). Granted now I can only tolerate this ship if reader is involved in it but still the fics you wrote for the dynamic were and still are great and I hope you write more for it in the future ❤️

oh, this is such a sweet message to receive, thank you for sharing this with me! ♡ the fact that my fics made you start to see billford in a new light, even if it’s just in this specific context, feels so special! I love writing Bill as his true eldritch self. (still practicing tho) and adding Ford x reader here is such a strange, but interesting dynamic to explore, and i’m so happy it resonated with you!

thank you for trusting me enough to give this ship a chance through my writing and thank you for your kindness and feedback, that makes me want to keep going ꨄ︎ i promise there’s more on the way, i’m always thinking about these three ‹𝟹

literally me rn im always so emotional lmao

[generational-atrophy]

yandere fyodor dostoevsky x reader drabble

2.6k words ~ a/n sorry for being like hey im gonna post and not posting for 3 days lmao

tw - stalking, invasion of privacy, guns, mentions of death, general yandere tws

It had started small. A random pair of clothing going missing, a door you had closed being left open, the hair on the back of your neck standing straight up as you look into your dark apartment hallway. A nuisance, to be sure, but absolutely nothing to panic over.

But as time passed, it became harder and harder to justify. A door left open became a room left a mess, a stolen piece of clothing became everything you didn't use on a daily basis; and worst of all, a looming hallway became an unexplainable shuffle from your living room in the middle of the night.

Your friend has said it was ghosts. Your mother had said it was your imagination. But after you tidied up your bedroom bookshelf only to find yourself staring into the lens of a camera, you said something else.

When you had run to the police crying months earlier, they had assured you it must've simply been your landlord. So you reported it, finally feeling the weight of that intruder's violations off your shoulders, and moved across town.

With a restraining order keeping you safe, you could finally take a shower without needing to check you were alone. That was until you stepped out of the boiling hot chamber. As you looked over, you nearly collapsed to your knees as your stomach dropped to the floor. In the steamed mirror, someone or something had somehow drawn in the condensation. A simple smiley face.

Absolutely nothing to panic over, right?

That was the tipping point. You could barely change into dry clothing before you ran out of your apartment. The next week you spent at your mother's home had been uneventful. Either the monster hunting you had lost your scent or it didn't dare to invade your family as well.

It didn't matter which. You were safe for now, that was all that mattered. You didn't have to fear the dark and what ghost or ghoul was waiting in it. After weeks of laying there all night, eyes wide and body shaking with fear, any break was taken with a smile.

After a week of good rest, you were more than happy to wake up again. You rolled over to check your phone, as you always did, but your eye was immediately caught by a text message from an unknown number.

In a split second, you were sent back to their tear-filled nights, your hand desperately shaking as you hesitated to open the message. Please, god, let this be nothing to panic about. Please.

You clicked. It felt like it took minutes for your phone to show the message.

“Do you really believe staying there is any safer than your apartment?“

Tears spilt over your cheeks as your fingers hovered shakily over your keyboard. You needed to tell whoever this is to leave you alone, that they were torturing you, that you wanted nothing more than for them to be sent to hell-

But before you could even type a single letter, the app closed. You shot up, whining in absolute desperation as you tried to reopen it. When it finally did, the message was gone. Gone in a second, like it was something you weren't supposed to see. Like something you didn't see.

The next police visit was more helpful. Seeing your absolute hysterics, their hand was forced. You returned reluctantly to your apartment, but only with the captain's promise of someone watching all the entrances to your home.

And for the next week, none of those entrances were breached. Your home was as quiet as it had been before all of this madness.

So the police had left with the assurance that no one had been stalking you. You wish that conclusion comforted you. But you knew that whatever had been haunting your life would return soon.

You had been right, of course. The next morning you awoke to a post-it note stuck to your otherwise empty fridge front.

”How little do you think of me? I would think that your friends would have had the budget for better disguises.“

Your face didn't even change as your eyes became wet with tears. The dull ache of fear rang in your chest but failed to force you to your knees anymore.

It was nothing to panic over.

Sure, you had discovered more cameras. Your things seemed to be purposely misplaced to frustrate you. There were more notes, rarely with anything written on them. At first, that part confused you.

But then you understood. Whoever this was didn't want to communicate with you. They wanted you to know that they could, though. They were purposefully withholding the relief of knowledge. They wanted you to want to know about them. About how to end this. And they wouldn't let you.

But after half a year of this endless torture, you weren't afraid anymore. You were angry. You would rip their Post-it notes up and scatter them across the floor. No, you couldn't let them have that power over you anymore.

That was what you thought to yourself as you bought a pistol. Small, easy to hide, not too expensive, but capable of packing a punch if you knew what you were doing. Or at least, if you were convinced of what you were doing. Which, you were.

The first night you hid your gun under your pillow, your monster under the bed failed to show up. The apartment was deathly silent once again.

Good, you thought. Better to be well rested when I aim next time.

The next night, they showed. Around midnight, you were awoken from your tired limbo by the sound of faint footsteps in the kitchen. The sound, which used to terrify you, now forced a smile to crawl itself onto your face.

You grabbed the gun, gingerly disabling the safety. You had loaded the pistol the moment you got it, so there was no noise to be made there. As their footsteps wandered into your living room, you followed. Your presence was no louder than a mouse's, your feet barely making contact with the carpet.

When you finally entered your living room, you saw them.

The night sky filtered through the window directly behind them, silhouetting them but leaving you completely exposed in the cool moonlight. They were large, that was the first thing you noticed. The second thing you noticed was the hair standing up on your arms once again.

You bristled, a dark, maniacal smile on your face before your predator.

You couldn't see their eyes. But you knew that they had seen you as well.

With not a single sound, you raised your pistol.

Their posture straightened. Perhaps in fear. Perhaps in surprise.

But that didn't matter now.

You braced for the earsplitting bang, your ears already ringing in preparation. You closed your eyes.

You pulled the trigger.

Click.

You opened your eyes, the ringing subsiding enough to hear the soft chuckling of the creature before you. It sounded like a mix of chattering, a symphony of strings discordantly orchestrated to create some disgusting imitation of human joy.

Click. Click. Click.

No, please, God, no. This can't be happening.

Click. Click. Click.

The chattering grew louder as your hands began to shake, tears rolling down your cheeks as you hit the side of your pistol. No, no, no, this can't be happening, you thought.

This nightmare was supposed to be over. This creature should be dead. Yet they still stood before you. Slowly, you looked up from your gun to look them in where their eyes should be. Then you recognized why they had adjusted themself. Not terror, not panic.

Anticipation.

And because of that, you couldn't do anything as they walked backwards, exiting through your window back into the freezing night.

The next few weeks weren't terrifying. No, it was too late to be scared. You learned to sleep through the knocking on the walls. You started expecting things to be misplaced, for your phone to be hijacked, for everything in your life to go horribly wrong.

It was no longer anything to panic about. It was mind-numbing. Nowhere was safe, and you were forever trapped in some predator's cage. And that monster couldn't even give you the simple mercy of seeing the bars.

You wished this endless horror movie would end. You didn't care how, or why, you just... wanted some conclusion.

On a dreary, rainy day, that wish would be fulfilled.

Throughout this entire ordeal, you had learned how to continue your normal routine like nothing was wrong. On that day, you had been doing just that. You had gotten off of a particularly exhausting day of work, and like always, decided to visit your favourite coffee shop near your apartment.

You ordered your favourite drink quickly, taking a seat next to the wide windows of the small cafe. The rain pattered against the window softly, complimenting the dull atmosphere of the day. But despite the desolate weather, tens of people walked by the store every minute.

You watched as they passed, tracking the more interesting ones with tired eyes. Occasionally, some would walk without umbrellas, holding their bags over their heads. At that, you couldn't help but chuckle. Even less often, one or two people would enter the cafe as well. You didn't pay much mind to those, as they always left within a few minutes.

You had always been easily entranced by crowd-watching, you thought as you sipped your coffee. It was easy for the entire world to fall away if you wanted it to.

You were startled out of your thoughts as the metal chair on the other side of your table squealed against the wood floor unpleasantly.

In a motion that took hours, you turned to look in front of you.

You didn't need to see their face. You didn't need to hear their voice. You didn't need to see their silhouette once again.

You knew.

The stranger took a moment to speak.

“I've always found first introductions to be difficult,” The man sighed. He spoke with a thick Russian accent, his voice like a perfectly tuned instrument.

Your eyes seemed to blur over as you took in the sight of him. His hair, dark as a raven's, framed his face with loose strands that stuck to his pale skin as if they were wet. His outfit was well tailored, with detailed embroidery; yet showed its age in its formerly pristine fabric hanging loosely off his light skin, light discolouring staining parts of his large trench coat.

He cocked his head to the side, “I am glad that I waited to talk to you face to face.” You struggled to respond, your voice caught in your throat as you looked upon the face of your torturer.

He gazed at you hungrily, his deep violet eyes blank as a corpse's while still being able to dissect you without any effort.

“Why?” You struggled to say, every part of your body telling you to run, to scream, to fight, to finally murder the man in front of you-

But you knew you couldn't. No, it would be a futile effort. Just as everything else had.

He sighed contentedly, taking a sip of his tea and looking out the window for a second.

”I believe timing is an important factor in any relationship.”

You stared at him dumbfounded, struggling to believe that this was really happening. No, this was a dream, another horrible dream about this horrible man.

Slowly, you joined him in looking out the window. Looking upon his young but shallowed face made you feel as if you were going to hurl. Looking out the window could blur out the stranger sitting in front of you, couldn't it?

”Who are you?“ You choked out, fighting back the tears that pricked at your eyes as you tried to ignore the reality before you.

You didn't dare to turn back, but you felt the burn of his eyes on you once again.

“My name is Fyodor.”

For some reason, that made your heart drop to the floor. No, you knew nobody by that name. This man was truly a stranger, a stranger that had been inside your home, viewing you more intimately than anyone had ever done so before. And you didn't even know his name.

“Why... why are you doing this?” You asked softly, looking down at your lap as the tears began to stain your cheeks.

“Don't worry, that shall be made clear very soon.”

“What?”

You jolted up, realizing the gravity of what he had just said. And as your eyes raised, you were greeted by the sight of two large men clad in black sitting at the table next to yours. You frantically looked back to the man in front of you. Fyodor was frail, you could tell from the way his button-up hung off his chest. These men... were anything but. They... they would have no problem handling you.

“It's quite a dreary day, isn't it?” He said, setting down his cup of tea gently, “Not quite as picturesque as I had planned, but God must have known better.”

You didn't dare to respond, crying weakly into your hands.

”My apologies, my dear,“ his tone was even, ”But I do believe our time is up.“

He stood up, clearly not bothered by your pathetic form before him. As he stood up, the men clad in black joined, standing next to your table.

”You- You can't! Someone will see- Someone will call the cops-” You cried out, looking up at him with red eyes.

He cut you off with a comforting sigh. Or at least, it should have been comforting. Yet all you could feel was absolute terror, your body wracked with chills greater than you'd ever felt.

”Oh, I don't think anyone here will be able to call the cops,“

You shuddered, ”W-What do you mean by that?“

”It is unlikely that anyone besides us will leave this cafe.“ He said calmly, his tone completely disassociated from the horrifying thought he had put in your head. He nodded back to the men behind him, and they both left the table.

“You're... you're going to have them kill these people?” You ask quietly, but you truly didn't want the answer.

In response, he chuckled, the sound worse than the first time you had heard it.

“No, no. Of course not. Why would we waste precious ammo? No, I'll be killing them,” He stated, his face contorted into a smile that made your skin crawl.

”Stand up for me, won't you?“ He continued.

You could hear the sound of your heart beating against your chest as you struggled to stand, your knees weak. He placed a hand on the small of your back, his touch feeling like spiders crawling up under your shirt.

He started to guide you towards the exit gently before you stopped walking. His head turned towards yours, stopping as well.

“One last thing... please,”

“Of course, my dear.”

“This... this has all been just a... a game to you, right?”

He smiled, “Yes, yes it has.”

“Did I play it well?” You asked, finally looking him in his blood-churning eyes.

”Oh, absolutely,“ He said with a quiet laugh, opening the door for you to leave. In front of the cafe, a black SUV was parked, with another black-clad man standing to escort you inside the car.

“You played it perfectly, my love. You definitely proved to me that I have made the correct choice.“

You didn't struggle as you entered the car. No, you didn't cry as you heard the screams of the people left inside the cafe.

No, it was absolutely nothing to panic over.

[kurokawaia]

❛ Your Mine ❜ - Chapter 4

yandere!Lan Wangji X Fem!Wen!Reader

| YANDERE + DARK CONTENT | this meaning, if you don't like this content, then just scroll away

WC; 1.9k + | !MDNI! | TW/CW : x fem reader, yandere x fem reader, yandere themes, another kidnapping lmao, lan wangji steals you agn

⋆·˚ ༘ * 𝒞𝐻𝒜𝒫𝒯𝐸𝑅 𝒮𝒰𝑀𝑀𝒜𝑅𝒴 :: The war has now passed and Lan Wangji is taking care of you and helping you search for your siblings. When you two found them, you requested to stay with them in Yiling, to leave Wangji. But this caused Lan Wangji's already yandere personality to rise to another level. He wants to bring her back to Gusu and marry her, but she doesn't want to, she wants to stay with Jiang Cheng, her siblings and doesn't want to follow the 3000 rules.

part 3 | part 4 | part 5

You awoke, opening your eyes slowly with the raising light through the paper windows. It was full of chaos and your mind was confused at what was happening before you. Then, you were reminded of what had happened last night: the memory of being intimate with Lan Wangji. Fresh—it still was, the way his lips moved against your own, along with his possessive statements. And then you shifted a little, and there, by your bed, was Lan Wangji, looking at you with his eyes wide open. Is his face serene, or does tension come off him in waves, that type of feeling that makes you almost feel afraid and anxious for his next action?. "Lan Wangji," you murmured uncertainly with a voice so soft, yet seeming so constant you might have sighed, "I have been thinking. I want to go look for my siblings." "No," he said with a force of finality that seemed nearly on par with steel. "That is too dangerous." You sat up, meeting his eyes. But there was still evidence in you that you held fear. "I just need to know if they'll be okay. Wen Qing and Wen Ning are family to me. I can't just sit here when they're literally in danger." The face of Lan Wangji was without expression, yet a certain intensity in the air was picked up that you could deeply feel, continuing down your spine in a tremor. "Your safety is most valued," he said, low and controlled. "I cannot let you take a risk like that." "I'll have to get someone to come look after them," he bargained, anger starting to flow from him as well. "I can't be left to go with. I know it's dangerous, but I HAVE to do this." His eyes seemed to darken, the intensity he had displayed the previous night flashed back on, though he stayed speaking in a low tone. "And I can't let you go alone. You mean too much to me." You blinked at him, annoyed, worried, and feeling something else that was in no way justifiable. "Lan Wangji, I am thankful for everything that you've done for me, but I'm not a child. I can take care of myself."

"You aren;'t nobody," he whispered, his voice low yet fully firm with a touch of possessiveness. "You, I cannot afford to lose." His words sent chills down your spine, yet you reasoned with yourself. "I didn't say that you let me go by myself," you said halfway, meeting him in the middle. "I just really need to do this, so badly. Please let me go, but come with me." "If I go with you," he finally gave in; his voice brooked no argument, "then I can make sure you're safe.". You gave a very slow nod, at least relieved that the fact would be looked into. "Thanks," you breathed, full of the most sincere of voices possible. "I swear I'll be careful."

The path that took place in order to find siblings—Wen Qing and Wen Ning—had all been very tense, and at every moment, Lan Wangji had never left your side. It almost frightened you, how he never left your side, you never had a moment of privacy. BUt, finally, after days of searching, you found them in Yiling—all hidden from the Sunshot Campaign. You hugged Wen Qing and Wen Ning, relief is inseparable from floods of tears, both of happiness and sorrow, at seeing them again. Lan Wangji had stopped a few feet from you, the gaze from his eyes never breaking from yours. Immobile, his face had been impassive and emotionless, but something in him, in the way he kept his body so ridged had seemed to speak volumes. He was watching you reunite, but something in his gaze felt dark. After a moment, you turned to Lan Wangji with a heavy heart over the decision you knew you were going to have to make. "Lan Wangji," you started, your voice trembling slightly. "I want… to stay with them." Something dangerous crossed over his features and his eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?" he asked, lowering his voice to a meagre level. You drew a deep breath, trying to collect your nerves. "They need me here, Wangji. They are alone and they are in danger. I can never leave them again. I want to be in Yiling and stay with them. The silence that followed could have been said to be deafening. His eyes took on a shade of darkness and his expression contracted. "You want to leave me," he thought, unfeeling, only the tension in the tone is clear. You shook your head, now filling with tears. "It's not about leaving you. It's about my family. They need me, Lan Wangji. I cannot leave them again." His jaw tightened, and he advanced another half step, his presence oppressive for the first time. "You are supposed to be with me," he said, his voice cold and possessive. "You cannot stay here. It's too dangerous." You flinched at the almost bellowed ferocity of his tone, but you stood your ground. "They are my family, Lan Wangji. I have to make it up to them. I need to help them." 

The look in his eyes grew darker, his calm composure replaced with something far more unsettling, something that scared you to your core, it rattled your peace. "No," he replied sharply. "I will not allow it. You are coming back with me." Your heart pounded with heated sound in your chest, your eyes meeting his, and a shiver ran down your back at the cold look in his eye. "Lan Wangji, please understand. I can't, after all that, just leave them. They need me." "And I need you," he shot back, his voice rising with a rare, almost frightening intensity. "You are mine, Wen {Birthname}. You cannot stay here." "You are mine," he said again, but this time his words stunned you. The ownership of his tone. It had you at a loss. 

"Lan Wangji," you whispered, and the sound of your own voice was shaking. "This is not proper. You cannot just… have me this way." He came even closer, his hand reaching out to clutch your arm—not painfully but in a way you could not pull away. "You are not leaving me," he hissed with a menacing voice. "I will not let you." Your heart raced, and although fear and confusion swirled inside you, nowhere upon his face could you meet his eyes and see the depth of his obsessions, the intensity of his need to keep you beside him at all costs. "Lan Wangji—" you tried to reason with him, but he cut you off. "If you stay here," he warned, his voice dangerously calm, "you will be in constant danger. I cannot protect you here. You should be with me, where I can protect you." You shook your head as tears spilled down your cheeks. "But they're my family… I can't just leave them." His fist tightened slightly, his eyes burning with possession not to be disputed. "You are coming with me," he said, the words clearly implacable, with no room for argument in his voice. "I shall not lose you."

Before you even fully registered what was happening, a strong hand shook around your arm as Lan Wangji pulled you away from your siblings. YOur eyes widened at his unexpected action, you had never expected Lan Wangji, second son to the head of the Lan's to get physical with you. His grip was firm and you could already feel a bruise forming. "Lan Wangji, no!" you cried out again and tried to pull back, yet his grip did not yield. 

Because he was resolute, he wasn't going to let go of you, he wasn't even planning to do so. "You're coming with me," he repeated, low and even, a possessive edge in his tone with made you realise that he wouldn't be letting go. Your heart thudded loud in your chest, and you were panting against him, "What can I do but not leave them?" you exclaimed, your voice strangled with sadness. "They are my family—Wangji—I belong here, with them! But the words seemed to fall on deaf ears for he only paid no heed, dragging you away. "You belong with me and will come back to Gusu with me, where it is safe," his eyes gleamed with possessiveness. Now, terror surged in you full force with the realisation of what he had meant. He had not only taken you back to Gusu, but to his world, back to a life within which you were going to be shut inside between the tight rules and scrutinies of the Lan clan, a life in which you would have to follow the three thousand rules of the code of conduct that extended absolutely everywhere within the Cloud Recesses. "No!" you screamed as you dug your heels into the ground. "I won't go back! I don't want to live with those rules! I want to stay here, with my family! With Jiang Cheng!" With the mention of Jiang Cheng's name, Lan Wangji's eyes began to darken, grip on your arm tightening. A shiver went through your body since that silent, calm expression he always wore was cracking, and what truly lay beneath was one of possession. "You are mine," he said in a low, hazardous soft voice. "You belong to me—not Jiang Cheng, not anybody.". You could feel it in his gaze, the one of a heartache man, that desire just to have you by his side. "Wangji, please," you would plead, tears running down your face. "I don't want this. I don't want to be tied down with those rules. I don't want to live a life here where I can't be with my family, where I can't be free." "You'll be safe there, in Gusu," he said, the hand that gripped harder to yours tightening. "I will protect you, and we are going to be together. That's all that matters."

"No." You shook your head. "But what about what I want?" You croaked, your voice shaky with emotion. "What about my freedom? My family? The face of Lan Wangji relaxed, and you could see something like guilt or regret gleam in his eyes, though it was soon cloaked once more by that same bone-chilling determination that had driven him to this. "Your safety is more important than anything else," he said, his voice soft but firm. "Though you do not understand this now, one day you will and you will thank me for it.". With that, he pulled you closer—the grip on your arm unremitting. "We are going back to Gusu," he said; the tone of his voice allowed no room for dispute. "And once we are there, we will marry. You will be safe, and we will be together." There was a surety in his voice that sent a chill down your spine. You knew there was no escape from this, you couldn't talk him out of it. That urge of Lan Wangji toward you had reached to such a point that he didn't care for anything, not your wishes, not freedom, not family. The only thing that mattered was you were his, and nothing would stop him from doing what it takes to keep you by his side. Your heart felt a thousand times heavier with the portent of what was to come as he carried you away from your siblings. You managed to twist your head back just in time to see the forlorn expressions etched on the faces of Wen Qing and Wen Ning, their helplessness in this situation clear before your eyes. 

You wanted to scream, to fight, to do anything in order to prevent this, but Lan Wangji's hand was tight, powerfully strong, and it left you with none of your own. 

You were helpless.

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

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