#like the impulses are there and Will is feeling some sort of way but his brain keeps short curcuiting when he thinks about them

[beannoss]

So I've been thinking about them:

Specifically I was wondering what the moment was (if there even was a specific moment) that cinched it for Twilight developing feelings for Yor.

[Spoiler warning: this post references manga chapters not yet animated]

I think for Yor it's pretty quick. Like, this moment here:

Not that Yor fell in love with Twilight then (ymmv) or that she's fully aware of her feelings, but it's explicit that she felt connected to him here and attached in meaningful ways.

But for Twilight, it wasn't so clear. For a while I'd kind of decided that it just came over him slowly (and I think there is something to that) and that there wasn't any singular moment which stood out. But that didn't feel quite right. The more I thought about it, the more I thought there were two stand-out moments, only one of which Twilight actually (semi-)clocks.

The first, which I think passes him by entirely, is this:

In my view, this laugh is an entirely authentic response. I think he is, despite himself, delighted by this woman who 1. just unexpectedly saved him from being stabbed, and 2. did it by sending the guy flying across an entire alleyway.

This is accentuated in the anime, I think, by the jaunty, puckish music that makes up the first part of their marriage theme song. I am dying for the reappearance of this music in some fashion, btw, it's so fun and cheeky and I'm hoping foreshadows their vibe after various revelations and particularly when they start working together as Agent Twilight and Thorn Princess:

The second moment for Twilight, I think, is more subtle for all it's more impactful. Or at least, the degree of its importance passed me by on initial read/watch, and I think it's deliberately downplayed by Twilight himself. Because he does actually clock it but if he looks more closely at it, well... then he might have to do something about it. And maybe that something won't comport with what the mission needs, and then what?

It happens when Twilight first bugs Yor, and then poses with Franky as SSS agents to test whether she knows Yuri is with the SSS.

It's clear in the lead up that Twilight recognises he has some feelings about/for Yor, and he doesn't want to spy on her; he doesn't want to mistrust her at all. He has to convince himself to take seriously that she may be a potential threat.

And even then, the convincing only sort of mostly works, because he hesitates again:

Which is, by the way, bananas. At this point, they've been a fake family for maybe a handful of weeks? Twilight is an experienced, accomplished spy with a finely honed and necessary sense of paranoia. Of course he should be suspicious. Her brother is an SSS agent! Canonically, the SSS are both Twilight- and SSS self-described as Twilight's greatest existential threat. It shouldn't be a question whether or not to verify Yor's knowledge here. And yet.

We all know how the rest plays out. He decides that listening in isn't enough, he needs to confront her insofar as he's able. I wrote previously about Twilight's relationship with Anya and the pivotal moment for him in how his view of his relationship with Anya changes based on Anya's (and Endo's) choices. I think a similar thing happens in this scene with Yor.

See, it would have been enough for Yor to continue to deny, continue to not call on Yuri's help, to prove she didn't know, and to put Twilight's mind at ease.

Endo takes it further.

Y'all: THIS IS ABSOLUTELY WILD. It borders on levels of impulsive foolhardiness that Twilight should actually take as a negative for the person playing his wife for Operation Strix. Yor even alludes later to the problems this could cause!

The SSS are indiscriminate; if Yor was facing down actual SSS agents, first assaulting and then threatening them would 100000% land her in custody. Were it not for Yuri, it may even get her disappeared, based on how casually and frequently Yuri references having people executed. It would absolutely put the Forgers at risk, in general and in the implicitly sexist Ostanian society, because if Mrs Forger behaves this way, how does Mr Forger behave? And why can't he control his wife? The Secret Police are not known for their leniency, their modesty, their discerning, their temperateness, their mercy. They are known for the exact opposite of those things. And due to being a spy, Twilight probably knows they're actually much worse than even their public reputation.

And here's Yor saying: you can question me but if you threaten my brother or my husband, I will fucking end you. Bodily.

Of course, it's entirely in keeping with her character, and it's an entirely revealing moment of who she is. And I think this is the moment for Twilight. He's already been trusting her bit by bit, as he says above, intuitively. I'd suggest that maybe even more than that though, Yor taps into something Twilight deeply wants: backup. Someone and somewhere safe. Maybe we could describe a person fulfilling that role in an adult relationship as a partner...?

It's because he doubts his intuition (his wants, his feelings, things he shouldn't be countenancing) that we get to this point where he (overzealously) tests her.

She blows his test right out of the water.

The SSS are basically the group he fears most; this is reiterated throughout the story. He doesn't trust them specifically because of who he is and also just generally. He doesn't trust their judgment. He doesn't share their values or their priorities. He doesn't like them around. He doesn't like them looking. He doesn't like being anywhere near them. (Also, he's right.)

And here's Yor. Not only standing up to them on his behalf but actually going on active defence on his behalf.

(I pause here to note 'on his behalf' is a bit, mm, tricky, since it's actually technically on Loid's behalf and I have Thoughts and Feelings about Twilight & Identity. But for the sake of the impact of this moment on Twilight, we'll take it as writ that in this moment there's no appreciable difference between Twilight and Loid.)

I think from here on out, it's incredibly difficult for Twilight to ever doubt or distrust Yor. He perceives her as firmly in his corner, that if the chips are down — if his worst enemy and his worst fear come knocking — she'll be on his team, unflinchingly. He may not think there will be much she can do (heh.) or much she can offer given the power of the SSS and her civilian status (I reiterate: heh.), but it matters that he believes that she'll be by his side.

And you know what? He's right. She will be.

That isn't something he's had since he was a little boy. Even WISE doesn't seem to offer that to its agents, given Nightfall's thought here:

Twilight's had to rely on himself for decades and now here's this astonishing woman who will threaten the Secret Police for his sake. Of course he trusts Yor. Of course this moment widens the cracks in his barriers. And further: of course those cracks start to reach into those walls deep, deep inside that protect his heart. This is all before getting to other moments, like when he reflects on how Yor is creating a better world in ways he (thinks he) can never aspire to do himself. That she loves Anya openly, freely, with such dedication, to the point of sacrificing her own needs. That she just never gives up, she persists and persists and persists, always doing her best. That she reminds him it's okay to accept peace and to rest. That she wants and tries to take care of him... On and on and on.

Of course we get to this point:

I'm particularly taken with his body language a little later in the scene. He manages to get himself to sitting but he's still sprawled, open, even as he can't wrap his mind around what exactly is happening or why, and he's feeling vulnerable for all that. But at the same time, this is Yor. And she's safe.

In my view, if the Mole Arc hadn't happened immediately between this moment and the earlier where Yor declares herself unhappy, it would have been clearer how much stress he felt specifically due to Yor's apparent sudden unhappiness with their arrangement. The stress got subsumed (conveniently, ahem, Endo) into the stress and violence of the Mole Arc, but I think it rattled him pretty profoundly. It's also additionally why her warm greeting hit him as hard as it did: relief across multiple lines, such that he had to remind himself not to relax, despite Yor's apparent return to normal.

And there may be added layers to Twilight's reactions to Yor's bad moods due to his familial history, as pointed out by @unhappy-sometimes in this post; the inverse, of course, is that Yor's general good-naturedness would add layers to Twilight's sense of security with her. And the apparent loss of that, all the more devastating.

Rounding out the original moment though, I think this in many ways demonstrates the point:

Twilight throws away the bug. That is also wild. It isn't like that bug could only be used on Yor; it wasn't somehow modified to only respond to her person. It was a device that could be used and reused on different targets, on people who actually are worthy of being bugged, etc. But instead of pocketing it for later use, Twilight throws it away.

Actually: he not only throws it away, he crushes it first. Perhaps because he couldn't stand to have that particular device around, the device he used when he doubted Yor?

Seems kind of irrational, Twilight.

Seems kind of telling.

I mentioned my last Twilight meta about his relationship with Anya: in that, I suggest Twilight recognised entering into a compact with Anya, which subtly modifies, for him, the motivations around Strix. I think something like that happens here, too. If Yor is willing to go to such apparent extremes to protect him, he'll do his utmost to protect her.

I've had this meta in my drafts for a while, but I'm chuffed by this panel from the most recent chapter, as it kind of underscores all this by Yor's positioning of herself:

(Of course the point is there isn't a dichotomy: they'll protect each other, as indicated by Yor's if I had to choose: she won't have to choose.)

Back to Twilight, at this point, he can still justify all this as being within mission parameters. Of course he should protect Yor: she is an innocent civilian and if anything happens to her it would threaten Strix. But if/when this line is tested, if/when there comes a point where protecting Yor is actually the option that may put Strix at risk or put him somehow in opposition to WISE, then we'll see.

And more importantly, Twilight will see, too.

[cruelplatonic]

actually i think it's interesting that practically everyone's interpretation of valentino is that he has severe substance abuse issues & is high 50% of the time, when in the show he's shown disparagingly talking about addicts in a way that implies he doesn't see himself as one. and i'm not using "interesting" as a substitute for "oh boy do i fucking hate this" i just genuinely think it's fascinating. the juxtaposition of him looking down on addicts while refusing to acknowledge his own substance abuse problems is direly under explored and it's like, Right There. it's prime character study material

[super-who-locked-me-in-here]

I feel like there are a lot of post-fall fics where Will and Hannibal are kind of living in this weird limbo because they're open to each other now and Will knows Hannibal loves him but Will is Straight™. But I raise you the idea that Will is like Andrew Garfield, and he identifies as heterosexual but has an openness to any impulses that may arise within him at any time.

[mad-hunts]

19.     entry made talking about a simple    /   normal day.

'dear diary' prompts...

[TRANSCRIPTION: so, i'd like to start this off by saying that i sometimes crave a sense of normalcy more than ever in my life... though i know that people might not expect something like that out of me. you know, because i seem so devoted to my work, i guess. but i have to say that after getting a taste of it today, it's probably when i'm at my happiest. me and jack had spent the day together, which is something we actually rarely get to do. he had told me about this crepe place that had opened up a little while ago and he seemed really eager to go there. so i invited jack to do that this morning and i swear, i hadn't seen him smile that big in a while. which did something funny to my heart.

and by that, i mean you know that feeling you get when you can't contain the love you have for someone? yeah that was pretty much what ended up happening to me; a fuzziness had hit me in the chest. but after we went there, and jack ate an impressive amount of crepes (he was really fond of the nutella and strawberry ones), my son suggested that we see this new movie that came out recently. and it was hard to pass up so of course i said yes. we snuck in some candy and drinks because, honestly, who wants to pay for the overpriced candy they have? not us so we did that and just like i expected... the theater was pretty packed since it was for the new hunger games movie. it was good though!

anyhow, after that, jack wanted to spend some time just hanging out by the water when he did something that surprised me. jack hugged me. and it was really nice, because i can't remember the last time my son gave me one like that. he went on to tell me that he missed 'this part of me.' this got me to thinking that, yeah, i have been treating him not so well for a while. so maybe i ought to change that. jack deserves to have a father who doesn't switch up on him every day, from being mean to being nice.

maybe i'll call my therapist back and tell her i want to start seeing her again. she might've said some things that i didn't like the last time, one of those being that i exhibit behaviors that are typical of sociopaths — but i guess i can make an exception for jack, because he's my little bug.

signed, barton. ]

[dxxtruction]

///

[sparky-is-spiders]

So by the time they even meet Amaldyne will 1) have preconceived judgements (despises him) and 2) be in so deep with Eityr that neither of them have room for close relationships of any sort in their lives, but I think there’s an alternate universe where Leoshgon and Amaldyne date. It would HAVE to happen after her family dies and while Leo has the sword (aka when Amaldyne is enough of a control freak and Leo is at his most useful). But like. It definitely COULD.

I imagine it would be much like the Overseer’s relationship with Leo in terms of the dynamic, but the internal forces driving it would be different. The Overseer enjoys control and possession for its own sake. He likes that one of the most powerful forces currently at play belongs to him. Leoshgon is a tool and a possession, and a trophy, but the love goes beyond that. He’s a person who isn’t magically bound but chose to stay anyway, and the Overseer loves THAT most of all (I imagine some of that love fades after Leo loses the sword, which I think Leo would interpret as the Overseer seeing him as a tool, but is more the Overseer wanting a partner who chooses him). I think Amaldyne would lean less “posession” and mor “objectification.” Leoshgon would be, to her, an extension of herself and her values. Leo is in her corner. Leo is fighting her battles. For her cause. For HER. She loves that Leo never disagrees with her (or at least that he always sides with her in the end), that he’ll do anything for affection and validation. And even if parts of Leo want to be his own person (want to be a person) he loves having somewhere to belong and someone to love him, even if it means being a doormat for someone who’s love is very much conditional.

And I think that’s why, if Leo was in a relationship with Amaldyne instead of the Overseer when he gave up the godslayer sword, she would kill him for the betrayal when the Overseer would keep him for coming back at all.

[losersiren]

𝓨𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓛𝓸𝓻𝓭

"𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝑜𝒽, 𝒾𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓂𝑒 𝓈𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝒶 𝓅𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝓊𝓇𝑒.” CW: Fem reader (she/her), possessiveness, suggestive Note: This is my first time writing something like this and posting it...go easy on me o(>< )o

The chandlers decorated the ceiling above the spacious ballroom, giving a gentle glow to the people filling said ballroom. The social season has just started to blossom, giving men and women room to court each other if one is blessed with the opportunity for such an experience. Catching the eye of a reliable suitor is quite troublesome– most of the men here do not fit any of your requirements, and if they did, they would suddenly be caught in a scandal of sorts, causing them to be an outcast. Not a good look on you or your family name.

You idly toy with the fan in your hand, your gaze sweeping over the sea of faces in the room. The task at hand feels insurmountable, and finding a suitable suitor in this town is daunting. Perhaps, you muse, debuting late was a misstep, a decision that now seems to mock you. You could always become a spinster…and ruin your reputation and lineage because you choose such an idiotic choice… regrettably it may be the easier option. 

“Pray tell why you’re glued to this corner as if you’re some wallflower,” A witty baritone voice whispers in your ear, the hairs of your neck standing upright while a cold shiver runs down your spine.

The sense of familiarity washes over you, and the resentment still lingers from years ago makes its way forward. The Earl’s son, your childhood close friend, who left you without a word after he said he’d be there for you.

What a bastard

“Have you ever heard of personal space? Or have you forgotten the amount of lectures your mother ingrained into your head on etiquette when you were just a brat?” You bite back with venom coating every word you spit out. You place your fan on your left ear.

”Ah, I see.” He steps back and gives you space. “You’ve become cold-hearted towards me since my departure overseas. I was only gone for a mere moment.” He switches his position from behind you to in front of you. He takes up your whole vision, his maturity, more evident now since the last time you saw him as a juvenile boy. It's been a few years, hasn't it? Yet he still has his teasing nature; no boarding school or amount of lectures can take that away from him. He bows a little lower than he should, his right hand to the opposite shoulder and his left arm behind his back. He looks up at you with those oh-so-regretful grey eyes. “I wholeheartedly apologize for departing overseas in such an impulsive matter without even notifying you in any way. I should’ve sent you letters and a hoard of messenger doves to accompany you”. “But I did not, and for that, my Lady, I've made a significant sin in your eyes– I do not deserve your forgiveness, but oh, if you could grant me such a pleasure.”

His voice is as quiet and soft as a starving mouse stealing food from a kitchen, careful for only your ears to pick up his pleas for forgiveness. Just as though you were a goddess punishing him, which he should be reprimanded tenfold in his eyes, who was he to abandon you without a trace? Though the situation before was entirely out of his hands, he didn’t want to go to that goddamned private school that was away from you; he fought tooth and nail not to go. Every house servant had to push and hold him down because he kept fighting; even his family members were victims of his wrath. His father, The Earl, still has fading scars from that night years ago.

He should’ve fought harder for you.

People around you start noticing; who wouldn’t? One of the most prestigious Earls of this country’s only son is bowing dishonourably low, borderline grovelling like a peasant caught stealing a measly loaf of bread. You feel eyes turning onto you, women whispering between their fans to one another, wondering in what predicament the next-in-line Earl would be for him to be embarrassingly bowing to a one-of-a-mill daughter of a viscount—a rank lower than him and a woman at that; your fan placement is not making it look better. Immediately change the position of your fan from your left ear to twirling it in your left hand, hoping he understands the situation he has put not only him but you in.

 He only smiles in return. “Stand straight; You look like a fool.” You hiss, “Do I have your forgiveness, Darling?” a scoff escapes your mouth. “That is either here or there! Be proper. Others are watching.” That doesnt deter him, nor does he care about them. “So my apology wasn't sufficient? Since you are thinking about everyone else but me.” More eyes make their way onto the pair of you, and whispers grow with the exchange of gossip. “You’re acting like a child-” He cuts you off. “Shall I go on my knees for you? I mean, I wouldn’t mind, but preferably, I would love to be in a more…secluded environment.” A smirk graces his lips at the thought. “Or shall I kiss your feet-” 

“You are a soon-to-be- Earl! Has that school taught you nothing? God, you’ve become more insufferable, I swear.” Your face feels warmer now, and embarrassment takes over you from his childish yet sincere teasing.

The young lord’s eyes fixated on you, on your lips, how your dress accentuates your already perfect self, your hands, oh, how he wishes to feel them against his. The years it's been since he saw you, he could listen to you scold him for hours on end; it doesn’t matter what you are saying. Just hearing your voice is enough. God knows it's been too long since he’s been deprived of you. He thanks his past self for sabotaging whatever male decided to even think of courting you. Though he was far away, his social standing never changed.

The lord decided by the second month he was away from you to pay his old servants to send him as much information as possible on the vermins that would try to nestle their way into your life. He would…No, he has ruined anyone who wanted to get in between you two. And he’ll keep it that way. You’ve stolen his heart since meeting him as a lad.

“So you wish for me to kneel? As you wish.” He starts to kneel; gasps can be heard. But you stop him, holding his shoulders upright; his eyes widen as you touch him.

You’re so close

“I forgive you…I forgive you…”

“I forgive you, Ambrose…”

Oh…

His name on your tongue….

His mind blanks. Has he gone to heaven? Oh, you sweet angel, you have him wrapped around your finger. And he wouldn’t want it any other way.

His smile is blinding as he stands and looks down at you.

“Then now that's settled…May I have the honour of a dance with yours truly?”

.." Or shall I beg more?"

End Notes: Fun fact (not really): I based most of this post on The Regency era, and that includes fan language! That is why I described the readers' actions with it. Placing the fan on your left ear means "I wish to get rid of you." Twirling the fan with your left hand means "We are watched." Thought that would be something fun to add (^.^)

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 37: The Silence

Summary: Tensions are at an all time high in the pack as an eerie silence settles over the cottage

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 6,069 words

Warnings: Angst, heavy emotions, arguing, medical stuff, injuries, descriptions of pain, brief discussion about strangulation, so much crying, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, panic attack, PTSD, language

A/N: Uh yeah, this one did emotional damage. Prepare yourselves.

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

They stand there watching like four knights in a tower guarding their kingdom. Their eyes are glued ahead, staring through the glass out into the backyard. They’re alert and watchful, eyes assessing and scanning for any threats. There are none except for your trembling legs. 

They stand there watching like four knights guarding their princess. None of them are brave enough to move, none of them dare break the moment. They can’t help but wonder what’s going on in your head, what drove you to push past the pain and exhaustion to shuffle your way outside. 

Panic bubbled in Kyle’s chest when he saw you shuffling your way across the living area. He’d nearly intervened when you stumbled, but John’s hand on his chest stopped him. You were in your own world, oblivious to everyone and everything as you shuffled determinedly toward the back door. They’d silently followed you, Johnny and Simon joining them when they descended the stairs. 

All you’ve done is stand out there. It feels like it’s been an hour, but it’s been less than five minutes. You’re frozen there, all except for the tremble of your legs and the subtle shake of your shoulders. 

You’re crying. 

It hurts his soul. It tears through his very chest as he watches you. He wants nothing more than to run out there and take you in his arms and soothe your tears. 

He can’t. 

He lost those privileges when they left you, when they betrayed you, when they abandoned you. It may have been John’s choice, but they were all complacent in it. None of them fought that decision, none of them questioned it. Would John have changed his mind if they did? Could they have avoided all of this if they had just questioned their alpha, their captain? 

Not all of it would have been unavoidable. 

You would have still been hurt. You would have still been traumatized. There was no guarantee Graves would have held off, even if they came for you in the first place. Things might have been worse. Graves might have gotten impulsive as soon as he realized the outcome of his own situation. 

Shepherd fucked him over too in the end. 

Things happened the way they did and they can’t change that. That’s what Christine keeps telling them. The past is the past and you can only work to build the future. 

It’s going to take a lot of work. 

“How long has she been out there?” Christine asks, stepping up next to them. 

“About four minutes.” Simon answers. 

“She shouldn’t be out there like that.” Christine goes to move to the door, but John stops her. 

“Let her have a moment.” He says, still staring out the window. “She needs it.” 

Christine lets out a quiet huff but she doesn’t move, turning her gaze out the sliding glass door as well. 

You continue to stand there, frozen like a statue. Time passes slowly, all of them captivated by the silent moment they’re witnessing. It’s almost hypnotic. The fading light, your figure standing there surrounded by grey skies and green earth like some sort of painting. 

Pain and bliss. 

That’s what he’d title it. He knows that’s what you must be feeling. Pain, visible and invisible from wounds that go far deeper than the flesh. Pain in its purest form as you stand there under heavy grey skies that echo the heaviness in your mind. The bliss echoes from John’s words, his reveal of your desire to see the ocean again, to stand on its shores and let its essence consume you.

It all makes sense now. No wonder you would cling to him the most, press your face into his neck and just breathe. His own briney scent was a gateway to what you desired in your landlocked position. How long had you been holding that desire in? Were you disappointed when you rolled up on their doorstep to find yourself still far away from the sea? You hid that desire from the knowledge that, as an omega, your wants and needs would always come last, in the knowledge that their jobs would come first and you would be at the mercy of that job. 

His eyes burn with tears as he stares at you. 

You begin to tremble more and more the longer you stand there, shifting on your feet. It breaks the haze they’ve all been frozen in, the five of them snapping back into reality. Christine is out the door before any of them can move, hurrying to your side. She wraps an arm around your back, careful not to touch your left arm as she steadies you. Kyle jumps into action automatically after her, hurrying to your new designated room to grab the wheelchair. With how much effort it took to walk out there, you won’t be walking back in. 

He wheels it out, holding it still as Christine maneuvers you into it. As much as he doesn’t want to, he turns, slipping back in the door as Christine wheels you towards the house. The four of them watch as she passes, time pausing as they stare at you. You don’t look up at them, don't acknowledge them at all. Your gaze is turned down in your lap, head lowered as you hunch, shoulders rounded.

Pain and exhaustion are weighing on you from your exertion as Christine takes you back to your room. How heavy the world must seem from the combined weight of your physical and mental injuries. The state of your mind would be one thing, but being stuck in a temporary handicapped state due to your physical injuries must be driving you nearly insane. There’s no getting away, no isolation. You can’t even walk fully unaided yet. 

There’s no freedom.  

All of them share a look in the heavy silence, understanding without even needing to say a word. 

The mug is burning his fingers but he can’t bring himself to care. His gaze is locked, mind focused elsewhere. He hasn’t moved in so long his joints are aching, but he can’t find it in himself to even shift his position.

“Drinking it black?” His fingers twitch as Kyle takes the seat next to him, his own mug of tea in his hands. It clunks as he sets it on the table before he lowers himself into the chair with a sigh. “That’s low even for you.” 

Simon lets out a grunt, eyes still focused out the sliding glass door. 

“She’s fine.” Kyle says, pulling out his phone. “The Doc won’t let anything happen to her.” 

“Don’t like that she’s out there alone.” Simon says, finally releasing the mug, squeezing his burning fingers into his palm. 

“Technically she’s not alone,” Kyle says, giving him a sideways glance. “We’ve been over this. We’re perfectly safe here.” 

“For now.” Simon lifts his mug to his lips, ignoring the burn of the tea on his tongue. He’s long become numb to that sort of pain.

“No one knows we’re here except Kate and my sister. Neither of them would say anything, no matter what.” Kyle turns his gaze back to the sliding glass door, to your figure huddled in the chair outside. “She’s where she needs to be right now.” 

Footsteps thud down the stairs, John letting out a groan as he reaches the bottom. He takes a moment to stretch before heading for the kettle in the kitchen. 

“Rough night, sir?” Kyle asks, taking a sip of his tea. 

“I’ve slept worse.” John grunts, grabbing a mug from the cupboard. 

Both of them had tossed and turned last night. Simon had listened to the occasional creak of the bed frame as they turned. He knows that’s what it was. They’re not ready yet. None of them are. Things are too fragile, too frayed. 

“Anyone thought about breakfast?” John asks. 

“Still some eggs left, and some bread. We need to make a store run soon.” Kyle says. 

“Today.” John says, pouring water into the mug. “A lot of things we need to pick up.” He turns to face Simon and Kyle, leaning against the cupboard. “Simon and I will go.” 

Simon shifts in his seat, his hand tightening around his mug again. “That’s not a good idea.” 

“What, you’re doubting our ability to watch the house?” Kyle says, turning to Simon. 

Simon glances at him, his eyes hard. “No, There should just be an alpha here at all times.” 

“Really? Because that sounds a lot like you don’t trust Johnny and I.” Kyle says, getting angry. 

“Enough.” John says, setting his mug down on the table. “We keep fighting amongst ourselves, nothing is going to get better. Tensions are high, but none of this is about us. We have to keep our heads on straight for the sake of our pack, and our omega. Simon and I will go to town today. That’s final.” 

Kyle and Simon both lower their eyes to their mugs of tea as John takes a seat at the table. He is right. Fighting amongst themselves will only make things worse for you. You’re already struggling, and the bonds fraying further will only cause more damage, more stress for you. Their bonds with you are delicate enough. They can’t risk the bonds between themselves getting any thinner. They have to be strong for you. They have to be strong for each other. They have to be strong for the pack. The whole pack. 

It falls silent between the three of them as they sit there, sipping their tea. Johnny is the only one still in bed. He cried most of the night last night. He’s cried most of the night the last three nights. He’s probably shed more tears than you have. 

Simon feels stuck in the middle, like he’s being torn in two separate directions. He got up in the night to free himself from the sounds of Johnny crying just to hear your own quiet sobs through your closed door. Each broken sob had his heart splitting in half, the ache in his chest getting worse and worse. He was sure he was having a heart attack that first night, his chest compressing and squeezing, his hands going numb from how tense his body was. 

He wants to reach out and make it better, but he can’t bring himself to. Johnny will just shrug him off, and you won’t even look at him. Even John and Kyle are distant, gravitating further and further away. The gravitational field in the center of their pack continues to get bigger and bigger, forcing them further and further away from each other, and none of them know how to stop it. They’ve lost their point of equilibrium. They’re all spiraling further and further away. Eventually that gravitational field will dissipate and they’ll be left free-floating through space and time. 

They all turn to look as the sliding glass door opens and you crutch your way in. Dr. Keller is right behind you, closing the back door before guiding you back to your room, the blanket you had been draped in folded neatly over her arm. You’re moving better, even just in two days since their arrival. Steadier on your feet, walking better with the crutch. You even look a little better, more alive than you were when you arrived here. 

They all watch you walk to your room, but you don’t spare a glance their way. You haven’t looked at any of them in two days. You haven’t spoken a word to them, to anyone, in two days. 

Kyle gets up to make breakfast as soon as you’ve passed, broken from the spell as Dr. Keller gets you settled in your room. You’re almost hypnotic now, all of their gazes drawn to you as soon as you enter the room. They’re all thinking the same thing every time you pass. Maybe this will be the time you finally look at them, when you finally glance their way. What he wouldn’t give to have you smile at him, give him that cheeky little grin after sassing him. 

Little shit. 

His hand tightens around his mug again as guilt floods him. You’ve sunken into an empty shell because of them. They sucked the life right out of you. They dragged you into this and failed to do what they were supposed to do. Anger bubbles in him as he thinks back to that moment. He should have fought back. He should have used his position to change John’s mind, or forced him to change it. He should have stepped up for you. 

He’s not your alpha. 

He almost wishes he was. 

He stares down at the scabbed imprint of your teeth on his skin. He should pick up a bottle of ink in town, tattoo that mark on his skin forever as a reminder of both you and what he did to you. 

“How is she?” John asks when Dr. Keller enters the kitchen. Simon’s shoulders square as she passes him, having been so lost in his thoughts he hadn’t even noticed her enter. 

Bloody hell, he’s as bad as you.

“As good as she can be.” She sighs, grabbing a can of soup out of the cupboard. You won’t get the eggs and toast Kyle is making. Your diet consists of soup and only soup. 

“Hasn’t said anything still?” John asks, turning to look at her. 

“Not a word.” Dr. Keller shakes her head. “I’d be worried, if it wasn’t expected.” She pulls out a pot, opening the can before dumping the contents in. Chicken noodle. The staple soup in your diet. “Strangulation can be a hard thing to recover from.”

“I know.” Simon winces, taking a sip of his tea. 

The doctor gives him a sympathetic look. He doesn’t want it. “She had some mild damage done from it, which will take time to heal. And, everyone deals with trauma differently. Silence isn’t that unusual of a response.” She puts the pan on the hob, turning the heat on. “If I was worried, you would know.” 

“Thank you for looking after her.” John says, nodding at the doctor. “You didn't have to stay.”

“I made a promise.” She says, stirring the soup. “She's still my patient, even if the initiative was bogus. I still have a duty to perform as her doctor. Kate wouldn't have chosen me from the start if I was the type to just up and leave as soon as I found out my job wasn't actually real. I care about her a lot, and I want to help her get through this.”

“We all owe a lot to you.” John says. “We wouldn't have made it this far without you.”

“No,” The corner of her mouth twitches. “You probably wouldn't have.”

Christine lets out a quiet sigh as she steps into your room. You're in the chair by the window, your usual spot when it's too damp and cold to sit outside. 

It's dark in the room aside from the light coming through the window. It’s always dark in the room, except at night when you sleep with the bedside lamp on. She flips that lamp on, not wanting to blind you suddenly with the overhead light. You’ve been blinded by enough bright lights over the last week. Nearly a week and a half. It feels like so much time has passed, yet it still feels like yesterday when she was coming to in her office after being attacked and drugged. The terror she’d felt upon finding you missing still fills her stomach, and she finds herself getting up in the middle of the night to check and make sure you’re really there. 

She’s not the only one that does it. 

The paper bags in her arms crinkle as she carries them over to you, setting them on the other chair. Your gaze is far away, staring off at the grey, stormy sea in the distance. How fitting the weather is, both for you and the members of the pack. The tension between them is still palpable, all of them moving stiffly around each other. They’ve lost the natural fluidity of a pack comfortable in their bonds. They’re stuck, and they can’t, they won’t, heal until you do. They won’t allow themselves to until they know you’re willing to at least try. 

“John and Simon went to town and did some shopping. They picked up some things for you.” She says softly, breaking the heavy silence in the room. 

You don’t even turn to look at her. 

“More warm clothes.” She continues, looking in one bag. “As well as some boots.” She pulls a box out of another bag. “A nightlight, so you don’t have to keep using the lamp.” She looks in the third bag, the heaviest one of the three. “Another stuffed animal.” She says, pulling out a stuffed bear. It’s a nice thought, but she’s not sure you’ll even want to touch it. “And some books.” She says, pulling the stack out of the bottom of the bag. 

There’s three of them, ones not in the collection on the shelves in the living area. Some of your favorites. They’re trying, putting in efforts to try and make you as comfortable as possible in the only ways they can right now. She sets the books on the side table next to you, taking a long look at you as you sit there. 

You haven’t picked up a book in the two days they’ve been at the cottage, though she’s not surprised. You’ve been in and out of it, sleeping off the pain medicine, or sitting in a haze, mind far away from the cabin. She wonders where you are, where your mind is going. Out on the water? Out on the beach? Or maybe somewhere back in your memories where it’s safe. Receding back somewhere when life was easier and safer. 

Are you thinking of your mother? Are you imagining her here with you? 

Her heart hurts for you, being torn away from her at such a pivotal moment in your life. If she had the ability to find her she would. If she could track down your mother and bring her here for you she would. 

You begin to sniffle, almost as if you can somehow read her thoughts. The tears are falling, streaming down your cheeks again. She doesn't say anything, she doesn’t have to as she stands there beside you, gently stroking your hair. She’s seen many things in her time as an omega specialist. She’s had patients that have gone through things that would make even the most seasoned doctor’s stomach churn. She’s helped omegas that have been pushed to the brink of insanity, omegas pushed to the brink of death. Yet none of them have affected her the way you have. Maybe it’s because she’s never been quite so invested in an omega’s life before, never been quite so inserted into an omega’s reality. 

If she was a better doctor, she might have refused to stay here, keeping distance between herself and your pack. She’s gotten too close, pushed past the barrier of professionalism. If she was a better doctor, she’d distance herself, stick to the decorum and expectation of doctor/patient relationships. She knows omega specialists can get too close. She’d been warned over and over about how easy it is to invest too much into the lives and well beings of omegas. There’s a boundary that must be kept, both for the professional and for the sake of the omega. She won’t be around you forever. 

Eventually she’ll have to distance herself. She’ll have to go back to America, return to her practice. Now that the initiative is over, now that her job doesn’t even exist, she’s running on borrowed time. She’ll have to leave you at some point, close your case and move on. 

When is the question there. When will it be the right time? When will she decide you’ve healed enough to be graduated from her care? When will she be confident enough to break the bond that has formed between the two of you. 

Will she be able to? That’s the deeper question. 

Those are thoughts for a different day, she decides, pushing them aside. Instead she pulls you into her side, resting your head against her hip as she continues to stroke your hair. 

You look just about as happy to be at the table as they do. It's quiet in the room aside from the clanking of dishes in the kitchen and the occasional sizzle of food in a pan. Your gaze is in your lap, assuming your normal position of a drooping head and rounded shoulders. 

Your back and neck have to hurt from being in that position for so long. 

The only time you're not in those positions are when you're outside. Then your gaze is out at the sea in the distance. You sit there and stare, almost like a statue. You’d make for a good painting, seated still enough for long enough a skilled artist could make a masterpiece of it. 

He's surprised Johnny hasn't even sketched you like that yet. Perhaps if you can ever come to be more comfortable around them, you'll allow him to paint you. You’ll be taking up residence out there in that chair as often as you can. 

He’s not even sure rain or storm would deter you, if it wasn’t for Christine’s intervention. 

Kyle sets a plate of chicken on the table as Christine brings over your soup, setting it down in front of you. Always a bowl of steaming hot soup. How you’re existing off of mostly liquids is beyond him. Maybe that’s why you look so fragile and frail. 

“There you go,” Christine says as she sets a spoon down beside the bowl. Chicken and rice, a changeup from your normal chicken noodle. “I know you don’t want to, but you need to. You’re not going to feel better without food in your system.” 

You let out a quiet noise, just barely audible over the shuffling of bodies as they sit at the table. Simon is to your left, Kyle next to him, Christine and Johnny on the other side. He’s on the opposite end of the table, staring right at you. No wonder you don’t want to move from your hunched position. 

They keep their eyes off of you as they begin serving themselves. The food they’ve managed to make is decent with the help of their combined cooking skills. They’d had a long discussion about the intricacies of British food versus American food the first morning after their arrival. Christine advocated for more American-based dishes, with Johnny taking her side purely out of spite for the three Englishmen. 

John has caught Christine sneaking seasoning into the food every so often. He hasn’t said a word.

“Come on, eat up.” Christine says, gently nudging your hand where it rests over the spoon. 

Your face screws up in a grimace as you stare down at the steaming soup. It’s a breath before your fingers wrap around the spoon, lifting it to the bowl. Every movement feels practiced and calculated as he watches you sink the spoon into the bowl, just barely sinking below the surface to get just broth. He watches as you lift the spoon, holding it halfway to your mouth. There’s a subtle shake to your hand, not much but noticeable to him. You stare down at the spoon for a long moment before lifting it the rest of the way, quickly putting it in your mouth before your hand starts shaking too much. 

You grimace as you swallow, a quiet grunt leaving your lips. He can’t bring himself to look away as you sit there, taking in a couple deep breaths. He can’t bring himself to eat as you stare back down at the bowl, your fingers trembling around the spoon. 

Fuck. 

You sniffle as you sink the spoon into the bowl once more, the spoon shaking more now as you bring the second spoonful to your mouth. It’s like watching some kind of sick, twisted children’s windup toy as you feed yourself, following the pattern of spoon in soup, soup to mouth, pained grimace, quiet sob. It gets worse and worse with every bite, John barely able to stomach his own food as he watches you with every bite.

You stare down at a chunk of chicken on your spoon, a fearful look on your face. Your hand is shaking enough that soup is dripping off the bottom back into the bowl. Christine had cut the chunks up smaller, yet you stare down at it like it might jump off the spoon and bite you. 

Tears start rolling down your cheeks as you bring the spoon up to your lips, forcing it into your mouth. You chew and chew and chew, delaying the inevitable. The face you make as you swallow nearly breaks him. He lowers his gaze to his own plate, barely touched despite the fact he feels like they’ve been eating for a lifetime. 

“Take a break.” Christine says quietly, lowering your hand with the spoon back onto the table. 

None of them can bear to look at you. Johnny and Kyle are busy staring at their plates as they eat while Simon glares holes into his water glass. He’s watching you just as closely, he’s just not brave enough to stare at you so openly. 

The tears continue to fall as you start feeding yourself again, Christine watching you as your hand begins to shake more and more, the pain starting to get to you. John wants to reach out, to take the spoon and feed you himself, but he can’t. It’s destroying him inside, seeing you struggle so openly. Christine won’t intervene, she won’t do anything as she sits there. Rationally he knows why. You need to get used to feeding yourself again, you need to work past the pain and exhaustion to keep yourself going. 

His alpha is screaming. 

Your hand is nearly vibrating as you hold another spoonful up, this one full of rice and chicken. You let out a quiet sob as you stare at it. That’s going to hurt. He can nearly sense your pain, the agony you’re feeling. Your scent is like a cloud fogging up the air, sour with fear and pain. It’s sinking right into his brain, his alpha clawing at him to do something. You’re in such open distress in front of him but he can’t move. He’s frozen, staring at you in shock, unable to look away. 

It’s Simon’s quick reflexes that save you, his hand darting out to flip the spoon onto the table before you drop it on yourself. It lands with a clang, startling all of them out of their ruminations as it hits the bowl of peas, splattering rice and chicken and broth across the tablecloth. Christine is on her feet almost immediately, checking you over for burns from any of it that might have landed on you. 

“You're okay.” Christine says, wiping your face with a napkin as you sob loudly, openly crying now. “It was a good try. Come on.” 

She helps you to your feet, grabbing your crutch before leading you back to your room. 

All four of them sit there in silence, still as statues as they process what they had just witnessed. 

“Fuck,” Kyle breaths, his eyes glued to the half-eaten chicken on his plate. 

Johnny starts to sniffle himself, his gaze locked on his own plate. Simon's eyes are on the spoon he'd flipped where it lays on the table. 

He had no idea just how bad things really were. He knew they were bad. 

He just didn't think they were this bad.

You’re sitting outside in that chair again. It’s a lovely morning, cold but the sun is rising up over the hills, casting a pink and orange glow across the sky. You look almost ethereal out there, even if he can only see the back of your head. Your eyes are cast out at the sea in the distance, where your gaze always seems to lie. 

His fingers itch in a desire to draw you, the art supplies Simon had picked up for him sitting unopened upstairs. It’s the first time he’s felt the desire to draw in weeks. Not since your heat when he’d sat there by your side, drawing to keep the thoughts away. The pictures are probably still up on his wall, the pieces he’d done to keep his own distress away. Had you laid there and stared at them after they left you? He can picture you laying there numbly, eyes glazed as you stare at them, picturing yourself far away. 

You don’t need his drawings now to imagine yourself far away. 

You’re still as a statue as you sit there, the thick blanket he’d picked up in Texas tucked around you. It warms his heart, even if he knows it was Christine who wrapped you up in it. The mug of tea beside you is still steaming in the cool air, untouched as it will remain until Christine eventually brings you back inside where you’ll recede to your room to sit in front of the large bay window to stare out at the sea. 

He wants to take you. 

He wants to load you up in the car and take you the short drive down the road to the beach. He wants to let you stand there in the sand, see the waves as they crash onto the shore. Hell, he’d let you walk into the water, let it soak your shoes and pants. Whatever you need to do, he’d let you do it. 

John would have his hide if he left with you like that. 

Simon would eat him alive. 

He won’t do that, though, mostly because he knows you wouldn’t be strong enough to make it down to the beach, nor stand there for a long period of time. Carrying you would be out of the question. You’d never let him that close. 

Instead he takes a gamble, getting as close as he dares as he slides open the door, stepping out into the cool morning. You don’t move, don’t even look up as he takes a seat in the chair next to you, the one Christine occupies when she’s out with you. He’d volunteered to watch you through the door to allow her some time to herself, something she hasn’t been getting much of. She’s been caring for you nearly 24/7, only getting breaks here and there while you sleep or nap, or on the rare occasion she trusts one of them to watch you. She never complains, but he knows she’s tired. Anyone would be after everything they’ve been through, after everything she’s had to see and experience over the last week and a half. 

It’s the least they can do, even if you won’t allow them to do more. They all wish they could. They wish they could ease some of your suffering, take some of the strain off of Christine’s shoulders. Kyle even went so far as to invite his sister to visit over for the weekend in hopes she might be able to lighten the load, and to see if you’ll allow her closer than you’re allowing them to get. 

He moves cautiously like he’s approaching a wild animal, not wanting to startle you and cause you more pain than you have been in. He can be a bull in a china shop, or he can be silent and deadly. He chooses something in the middle, making his footsteps just loud enough to be heard across the wooden planks of the porch, but he moves slowly enough he won’t startle you as he appears in your peripheral. 

Your gaze never leaves the horizon, focused and far away even as he takes a seat next to you. His mug of coffee is warm in his hands, fighting off the chill outside. It’s a natural response to the sudden temperature change after being inside in the warm house. He almost wishes he had his own blanket, but then again, he’s not sure he’ll be outside very long. 

He’s prepared for yelling, screaming, getting hit with your crutch as you tell him off, chasing him back inside. He’d almost prefer it over the eerie silence. He has to glance at you just to make sure you’re breathing, make sure the blanket is rising and falling over your chest. He follows your gaze out to the sea, sitting there silently as he gazes out at the dark blue water. Silence is hard for him. He can feel it throbbing in his ears, the ringing that fills his head when it’s quiet. He likes noise. He needs noise. 

He just wants to hear you speak again. 

He needs to hear you speak again. 

He wants to talk to you, he wants to say something, he wants to drop to his knees and beg forgiveness. He wants to feel your touch again, even if it’s just a brush of fingers across his hand. He wants to get something out of you, some kind of reaction. You’re an empty shell, a ghost of what you were. 

Tears fill his eyes as he stares out at the blue water. The silence is deafening as he sits there with you, still and quiet. 

He might as well be sitting alone. 

It’s the dead of night. The stars are out, or they would be if the clouds weren’t blocking them. It makes the world seem so much darker without their light. The fire is out, the curtains drawn closed. The only light is from the porch and the lights on the patio out back. The house is quiet, not even the hum of appliances filling the silence. 

Kyle’s breaths are quiet and even, finally asleep after laying awake for far too long. Their backs are turned towards each other, yet the double bed forces them close enough they can feel the warmth radiating from the other. It’s the only position they can sleep in, even if they’ve woken up cuddling a few times in the night. It’s almost as if their brains are subconsciously trying to force the bonds back, to force the healing. It’s as if their instincts are laughing at them for trying to deny what they want deep down. 

John lays there in the silence, his mind racing. He can’t sleep again for the fifth night in a row. He hasn’t been able to sleep since they left weeks ago on their mission to track down the missiles. No, it’s been longer than that. Not since you revealed the cameras to them. How long ago that seems now. How inconsequential it feels. If he knew back then what was going to happen, he would have changed a lot of things. 

You can’t undo what was done. You can only change what happens going forward. 

Things happened the way they happened. Now he has to make up for it. Now he has to prove himself not just as a capable alpha, but as a trustworthy human being. Your omega is screaming. He knows it. He had sensed it at dinner with your quiet sobs, the pain flooding your scent. He can still smell it, the sourness permeating his nostrils and sinking right into his brain. His alpha is still clawing at him angrily for just sitting there, for just letting it happen. 

Simon intervened. Simon saved you once again. 

He had barely comprehended the quick movement of Simon’s hand as he knocked the spoon out of your grip. He’d gotten soup on his hand, the droplets visible, yet he hadn’t moved as he sat there, letting it burn his skin. Better his than yours. He could almost hear Simon’s thoughts at that moment. 

What a good alpha Simon is. 

What a failure of an alpha John is. 

Your omega must be screaming in your mind, clawing at her cage. It’s almost like he can hear it rattling in his ears, reminding him of the pain he’s caused you. The pain brought on by his failures. 

Something is rattling in his ears, piercing through the silence. 

It is a scream. 

It’s your scream. 

NEXT ->

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[drownedbycoffee]

THEY AREN'T THE FEARS ANYMORE!! THEY'RE DESIRES

(SPOILERS for TMA, and all of TMAGP episodes so far)

Okay, here me out

Tmagp1: Darla wants to hear Arthur's voice again. She even says: "I just couldn’t face the thought of the rest of my life never hearing him again, I had to try" and later on she even says: "But I had to know, so I went to the cemetery."

Tmagp1: RedCanary wants to know about the Magnus Institute. They want to know why it's listed under 'cleared' when there's no evidence of it. Hence why they go and explore it.

Tmagp2: Daria wants that absolute perfection. She wants to change who she is and get out of that dark place. When she talks about the thing that she felt was missing, she says, "... and that’s when I decide I need a tattoo. I had a couple already – just little things on my shin and my wrist – but I decided I needed something big. Something that really changed my look." She also mentions when talking about Ink5oul that "they just kept pressing me about my life, about why I wanted the ink" instead of asking what design she wanted. And when she got the tattoo she describes herself as now being, "Someone I wanted to know more about." Afterwards she even says how "For the first time ever [she] wanted to attempt a self-portrait. Something real and physical, [she] wanted to feel the brushes in my hands and the oil on [her] fingertips." I think a lot of her statement is about her desire and impulsive need for that perfection and that wholeness that she has been aspiring to for her whole life.

Tmagp3: Samuel wants to stay hidden. He wants and he "need[s] to get up, get out of here for treatment." He wants to get better and most of his delirious thoughts are the things that he wants, or feels like he needs. E.g. "I so much want to see it [the sun] again. This night seems endless. I want to be warm again. I am terribly afraid. Thank god for Maddie. I need to treat her better."; "I just need to rest."; "I need to be careful or we’ll drift apart." And then obviously as the narrative continues, Samuel wants to grow and 'put down roots'.

Tmagp4: The narrator wants to be revered and accepted into the Royal Court Orchestra of the Palatinate. He wants to show off and impress. The violin "was a creature with needs and purpose of its own. The needs were simple enough. Blood. Flesh." It has these needs and desires.

So far, I'm interpreting it to be that everything so far can be interpreted as a desire of sorts, varying in the strength and intensity of it. Obviously, fear is still a big part of it all, because if you want something so badly, aren't you afraid of it being stolen from you? Of it being out of your grasp? Of it being unachievable or impossible in some capacity? Of it being a lie?

Even Sam wants to find out more. He wants to know the why and the reason for things. Gwen wants Lena's job. Collin wants to fix all these bugs and keep Freddie running. Alice wants to just get on with it because she found out that wanting to know the 'why' of things is dangerous.

I think that somehow when the Web took all the Fears into a different universe, they morphed into something else. Or they changed to fit what was the most prevalent thing in that universe, because after all, everyone wants something, even if it's something small and inconsequential. Life and aspects of it has always been characterised by that desire for something. Like people wanting food, shelter, safety, love, warmth, happiness, etc. And I think since the Web was so intwined with Jon and Martin, it absorbed some of their emotions when it found its way into this new world, because after all Jon and Martin wanted to stop Jonah/Elias, to stop the apocalypse, to destroy the Panopticon, to be safe, and they wanted each other. I think the wanting and fear of things are really entwined in it all, though this could be absolute bullshit haha

[valsverse]

𐑺 ˖ ࣪ ࿐ྂ I WANNA BE YOURS | percy jackson x gn!reader

percy jackson looks at you like you were the one who put the stars in the sky.

the son of poseidon gazes at you with so much awe and admiration in his eyes that most people would think you had just defeated a minotaur with your bare hands, or cured cancer or saved the world from total destruction, something that would be remembered for centuries to come. but in reality, all you did was toss a few nuts to the squirrels that scurried around camp. percy jackson looks at you in such a way that even aphrodite herself would point and squeal.

though, he'd never admit to that. the only telltale sign of his infatuation is the rosy tint that creeps up the tips of his ears every time you you pass by, and his lips that struggle to stay in a straight line whenever you flash him that smile—the one that makes his heart leap up and into his throat. even after four years of friendship, percy still hasn't figured out how to sit next to you and not be totally in love with everything you do.

it's as though you have some sort of magic power over him—a power that he's powerless to resist. and as much as he'd like to deny it, he secretly revels in the feeling.

but percy jackson would never confess his desires for you—not when kronos is still actively seeking to wipe out the demigod population. he can't afford to display any signs of weakness.

but it's worth it, he thinks, to risk everything just to wrap his arms around you and plant a kiss on your lips that would set the world on fire. yet he knows he can't—not without endangering you. not without putting you in harm's way. so why is it so unbearable to imagine life without you, when you were never really his to begin with?

and in those moments, when his mind is consumed with thoughts of you, memories of your touch and your gaze playing on repeat in his mind, he's left thinking, 'did i imagine it?' did he dream up the way your touch lingered on his arm as you adjusted his armor? the way you looked at him across the dining pavilion before turning away, as if you'd been caught in the act of something secret and sweet? he must have, right? because you would never look at someone like him with such tenderness. not at someone hot-headed and impulsive, someone with so many rough edges. no, you couldn't have looked at him like that. it must all be in his head.

you couldn't have looked at him the same way he looks at you.

despite his best efforts to conceal it, percy's convinced that everyone can see right through him. he knows that everyone can see right through him. the teasing from his fellow campers has been relentless—nicknames hurled his way, each one more unflattering than the last. romeo, hopeless romantic, loverboy..

loverboy.

he's no loverboy. not some kind of lovesick puppy at the mercy of some unattainable crush. no, that nickname is only reserved for the truly whipped, those who are wrapped around someone's finger, glued to their side at all times. he's no..

and then his head snaps up at the sound of your voice, suddenly alert. and there you are, all dazzling and gorgeous, a beacon in a sea of identical orange t-shirts and jeans. you stand out as though a spotlight has been trained on you alone. which is weird because to most people you're just another camper. albeit, an incredibly beautiful camper, but still, just a camper. so why is he so infatuated with you, specifically?

maybe he is a loverboy.

the realization hits him like a ton of bricks, and he almost groans out loud. can't he just carve his heart out and be done with it at this point? isn't that what the poets do?

but since he never really cared for those dead old men taught in school, like edward allan poe or whatever his name was, he'll settle for just daydreaming now. he'll settle for stolen glances across the room and the brush of your hands as you reach for a book. he'll settle for relishing in your little touches and how your lips shine in blueberry chapstick until he's ready. he'll admire the curve of your nose and the triumphant hugs you give him after your team wins capture the flag. he'll settle for it until it's not enough anymore. he'll settle for it until he needs more.

[lovelybluebirdie]

The astonishing failure of a simple plan

Astarion x f!Reader

Summary: Astarion tries to wrap his head around you, when a sudden tumult in camp occurs.

[AO3]

The concept of altruism had always been quite strange to Astarion.

Doing something solely for benefiting others, without one's own needs primarily in mind – how outrageously foolish. 

And yet, he caught himself considering the idea more often since he had met you. 

You, the soft-hearted soul who always seemed to stumble directly into the next best opportunity to solve the problems of complete strangers that would cross your way – gladly interfering with any sort of personal drama. 

Although you and the rest of your travel companions had been infected with a tadpole to the brain, leaving you in desperate need for a cure to this rather urgent condition, somehow you would always manage to save a child from getting gruesomely killed by harpies, pick a fight with a powerful hag to rescue some random woman you just met or annihilate an entire camp full of goblins to ensure safe travels for a bunch of Tieflings – without at least demanding a proper compensation for all your troubles. 

You just did those things, and it drove Astarion mad.  

Perhaps one of the reasons for your undeniable saviour complex were the recurring thoughts that plagued you. You had once explained it as particularly dark urges, the impulse to hurt and kill spreading its roots inside your brain, evolving into a yearn to act out the most gruesome visions one could imagine. Gloriously kill an innocent to bathe in their blood, crush a squirrel to death with your bare fists or rip off a stranger's hand in need of help – malicious ideas that would otherwise never cross your mind.

The origin of these unwanted desires were unknown to you, but you sensed that it had to be connected to your past somehow – a part of you that had yet to be completely revealed. Of course, you had sworn to give everything in your might to resist them. And luckily for the life of your travel companions, you were mostly able to succeed.

Regardless of these murderous tendencies coming with your affliction, you were still the kindest person Astarion had ever met. A contradiction in itself, and yet you were – well, you.

Lately, Astarion had caught himself just perceiving you. 

Taking in your soft expression as you were mindlessly humming a song to yourself, sitting barefoot by the river, hands elbow-deep in the cold water to wash your clothes, sticking this stupid little melody to his head for the rest of the day.

While resting at camp, he had watched you reading – one of your favourites, the lexicon of bird species in Faerûn – a terribly boring topic, but you seemed to indulge in the lengthy descriptions of a blue jay’s wingspan. You would fetch Astarion a caught smile between slowly turned pages, eyes half-closed, before eventually dozing off in the flickering light of the fire. He had barely been fast enough to catch the edges of your slipping book, saving it from landing in the dirt.

The other day, he noticed you carefully picking flowers from the road, acting like it was the most important task on your schedule. Later, you would sit in silence, brows furrowed in concentration and hands busy with knotting them into a beautiful headband. A gift for Karlach, since you had sensed that she hadn’t been too well on this particular day.

A sickeningly sweet gesture.

And yet, so typically you. Affectionate, always looking after your dearest companions.

He remembered the feeling of you casually squeezing his shoulder after an exhausting battle, the concerned look you would give him as you noticed that he had been injured, and how you insisted on treating his wounds with the utmost care, not leaving his side before you made sure his bleeding had entirely stopped.

There was the sensation of your fingers gently forming circles through his white curls, while he had buried his fangs deep inside your neck, greedily gulping down the blood you had been willingly offered to him. The quickening of your pulse, the little shivers your body would give away as he was feeding on you. 

Your thumb shyly placed against his brow, the tender movement as you traced his features. The sincerity in your voice as you described the outlines of his face to him, after he had shared with you that his lack of reflection had turned the image of his own appearance into a dark shape from his past. Profane vanity was all he had initially seeked from you that evening, listening to you calling him beautiful and stroking his ego, and yet there had been a certain intimacy resonating in that moment. You had described to him what the world would see when it looked at him – what you would see. 

Astarion groaned and pulled his blanket up to his chin, almost covering his bottom lip with the thin woollen fabric.

Gods, how you irritated him. 

How you had infested his mind with your nauseating goodness. 

When you first met, Astarion had decided that precisely this outstanding character trait of yours should be your undoing.

You offered an easy prey, he had thought to himself in a blissful glee, as he imagined all the ways in which he would bargain your trust. 

Luring and deceiving were practically moulded into him, therefore charming you appeared as easy as picking the lock on a broken chest. In order to survive under his former master Cazador, he had become an unwilling adept in these abilities. 

Astarion flinched as the memory of his ruthless tormentor reentered his mind. Cazador had turned him into a vampire spawn almost two centuries ago and made him his slave, forcing him to a life in complete darkness and made him use his body to bring more than thousands of victims to him.

In order to deceive you, Astarion had formed a rather simple plan: Seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you would never turn on him – old habits that cemented over the past centuries had kicked in.

Therefore, it should have been easy with you. Instinctive. Following a pattern of studied behaviour, throwing his best lines at you until you would breathe his name between tousled sheets - leaving your body aching for him and trusting him unconditionally.  

All he had to do was follow this nice little plan of his, deepening the selfish bond he aimed to create between the two of you in order to secure his safety. To get you on his side. 

It should have been nothing more than an insurance. A simple transaction, so to speak: His honeyed words for your protection. Performing an act, yourself delightfully unaware of your leading role in this little play of his.

Well, and what else could it ever be? After all, manipulating others in order to get something out of them was the only way he had ever known. 

And yet: with you, things had somewhat felt entirely different.  

At least, his plan had evidently borne fruit by now: Not only were you voluntarily offering your blood to help him with his cravings after he had revealed his past of being a vampire spawn, you had also sworn to help him finding out the meaning of the scars on his back and dealing with Cazador when the time would come.

Still, instead of savouring his accomplishment he found himself distracted with his attempts to wrap his head around you. 

Sometimes he wanted nothing more than to peek inside this little skull of yours, picking your brain until he would satisfy his curiosity with you and determine the reason why you were lingering on his mind of late. 

He wanted to figure out what made him actually want to listen to the things you had to say, admire your wit when you would share a heartfelt laugh over one of your foolish jokes or why he would seek your company after a night spent in familiar solitude. And even worse: Why in the Hells he had caught himself enjoying how your face would light up after you had saved another unfortunate soul in need on your travels. 

Astarion sighed and pushed his fingers to his eyes, hoping that pressing them shut would free him from his vexing thoughts, as a sudden noise distracted him.

The pounding of hurried footsteps and jumbled voices rose outside his tent, growing louder and faster.

He let out another disgruntled sigh.

Gods, what would it be now?

Whoever was roaming around your camp this late at night, screaming like an animal, better had a rightful reason to do so.

His annoyance fell off immediately as he came to understand what the unfamiliar voices were yelling: Your name. Followed by pleas for help.

Before he even comprehended what exactly posed this sudden level of urgency, his feet had already dragged him outside in the dark, a cold breeze brushing against his skin.

“What is going on?” he heard his own voice meddling into the sudden tumult. 

Then he spotted you: Arms and legs hanging lifelessly, brought down on your bedding by one of the Harpers he remembered from the Last Light Inn. You were followed by a few other Harpers who positioned themselves around your tent - they were desperately shouting for a healer.

An icy grip twisted Astarion’s chest as he stormed forward to reach you, stomping through mud and dirt.

“Is she hurt?” His voice broke as he saw your face. You were lying on your blanket, eyes rolling behind closed lids, cheeks all flushed and a thin line of sweat forming on your brow. You looked utterly terrible: Weakened and sick, seemingly in a feverish delirium. 

Astarion had seen you wounded before, due to blood and gore being in the nature of your journey to free yourself from the tadpoles, but never like this: more dead than alive, not moving a single major muscle.

What in the Nine Hells had happened to you?

Astarion swallowed hard before he found his voice again and turned to the ones who had brought you in.

“What did you do to her?” he hissed, readying himself to grab the Harper next to him by the throat and shake him until his tongue would loosen. “Explain yourself, now!”

Before any of the men could open their agape mouths in response to Astarion’s daunting request, Shadowheart broke the heated atmosphere with a soft push to his shoulder and made way to kneel beside you. 

“Let me see her.” She spoke quickly as she felt for your pulse and started to spread her hands protectively over you, encompassing you in a blue radiance. She was already casting a healing spell.

“Your friend, she… she was fighting a shadow creature, and it must have poisoned her,” the Harper that had carried you pressed between quivering lips. “We already sent someone to call for Isobel. She will know what to do.” As he met Astarion’s furious glimpse, he hastily added “They – they should be here any minute.”

Poison? Astarion wrinkled his nose. Indeed, your blood smelled different – somewhat tainted. 

He focused his gaze back to you, suppressing the urge to slap that damned Harper straight across the face. 

Instead of acting out this violent thought, he sank to his knees next to Shadowheart and carefully laid one hand on your cheek. You were burning hot and letting out ragged breaths between your cracked lips.

“I can cast my spells, but I am not versed in the toxins of the Dark”, Shadowheart declared with the most tensed look on her face, her magic still hovering over your body. “We need Isobel – fast.”

Another twist in Astarion’s chest. He racked his brain for a solution, his hand still held helplessly against your cheek. You were in need of healing, desperately, and more adept than Shadowheart could provide. His senses began to blur.

Through the pulsing sound of blood rushing through his ears he could only gather a few scraps of the enfolding conversation between the Harpers and the rest of your companions that had hurried to your aid.

It was enough to paint a picture of what happened to you: During your night watch, you had noticed a Harper being dragged away in the shadows and went immediately to his aid. With a few quick blows, you had managed to kill the attacking creature and save the unfortunate man from his demise, but for its final act it stroked you with its claw, leaving a deep scratch on your right arm – the source of the suspected poison that would flow through your veins. 

Astarion bit the inside of his cheek, spilling blood. His mind was racing. 

Of course you had gotten yourself in danger over saving someone else again. 

In normal times, he would have loved to tease you for your foolish act of heroism and give you an “I told you so”, probably earning a defiant look from you while you would emphasise the importance of helping those in need. 

Hells, he desired nothing more than to listen to your moralising if it meant that he could just hear your voice right now. 

But instead of lecturing him on morality, you were still lying on your mattress, unmoving and probably on the verge of death, and he couldn’t think of a single way to rid you of this terrible state.

He felt numb. Useless. It made him sick.

A gut wrenching thought rushed over him. 

What if you would die right now – just like that? 

Before he could… Well, before he could do what exactly?

The image of your limp lifeless body with dead staring eyes entered his mind.

No. You didn’t deserve to die. You couldn’t die. Not like this. Not now, not ever, not from saving a goddamned Harper.

Then you whimpered. 

Silent, almost inaudible, but enough to set Astarion ablaze. 

The urge of punishing every single one who had dared to lead you to harm overcame him like a ruthless wave crashing shore. He wanted to cut open, to rip apart and to send everyone into eternal hell.

Fire took over his crimson eyes as he bared his fangs, the look of a predator on his pale face, ready to curse those wretched Harpers or worse, as another quiet sound spilled from your lips.

“As… Astar... ion…?”

He froze.

His name – spoken as gentle as a flicker of moonlight glistening through leaves. Not moaned in lust or used to denounce him in anger – just… him being called, in the most faintest way. 

He felt his eyes wet before he even knew it, his mouth opened for a split second only to his lips pressing it shut again, forcing himself to blink before a single tear could make its way down his cheek.

You sounded so fragile. So ... in need of him.

“Asta...rion?”

His chest twisted again.

He wanted to whisper words of comfort to you, chanting them over and over like a prayer, assuring you that everything would be alright.

“Don’t speak,” he managed to breathe in a cracked voice. “I’m here, my sweet.”

Your eyes were still closed and moving fast underneath your lids. You spoke in a fever, and he could sense that you were in pain. 

Astarion brushed a strand of hair off your sweaty brow, using just the tips of his slender fingers. A most careful touch, as if a hint of deeper force would break you. 

Then, there was no more sound coming from you.

“Hells, where is that goddamned cleric? If she doesn’t arrive here any second, I’m going to drag her over myself-” Astarion’s voice was nothing more than a helpless plea. He sounded way less threatening than he had wished for, almost spilling those tears he had to hold back, and seconds before bursting if there would be no aid for you right now.

“No need to shout, my friend. I’m right here.”

Isobel. Finally. 

A fire in his stomach again.

How dared she sound so calm, considering your condition?

With haste, Isobel knelt between him and Shadowheart and opened her pouch, revealing a set of different sized bottles. She began to examine you with concentration, lifting your eyelids to look at your pupils, checking your vitals and thoroughly inspecting the wound the monster had inflicted on you. 

Astarion gritted his teeth in anticipation, a thick lump forming in his throat. 

“Will she be alright?” he eventually demanded, his voice cracking like a violin out of tune, but Isobel ignored him and silently continued her treatment. 

“Astarion, I’m worried about her too, but I think we shouldn’t disturb Isobel right now,” Wyll interfered softly and squeezed his shoulder. 

Taken aback, Astarion pressed his lips together. Of course Wyll would be the voice of reason in a situation like this, but unfortunately he wasn’t wrong. Isobel was the most profound healer available, an expert on the shadow creatures - and unlike himself, she offered the possibility to save you.

“As I thought,” Isobel mumbled after a minute that had felt like eternity and opened one of her potions with a loud plop. “She will need this.”

She then put her thumb on your chin, carefully opening your mouth and pouring in a dark liquid, before she continued to clear your wound. 

Astarion eagerly watched her hands treating you with expertise, still not laying his gaze off you.

“I gave her a powerful antidote,” Isobel began to explain calmly as she spread a colourless balm on your torn flesh. “Such poison needs fast treatment. Fortunately, if dealt with in time, it can still be cured. I’m glad I was able to aid your dear friend before it made its way through her entire body. Otherwise… It most likely would have been fatal.”

Astarion’s muscles tightened and his stomach turned. You almost died tonight.

Isobel seemed to notice his tension, so she quickly added “With this antidote, she will be completely fine in the morning. Her fever might continue through the night, but I promise that there is no more reason for concern.”

“Are you completely sure of that, Isobel?” Shadowheart asked, seeking out reassurance that the treatment truly had succeeded.

“I swear by Selune, she is not at risk anymore. The antidote freed her from the poison and the balm will heal her wound,” the cleric responded confidently. “Her body will do the rest.” 

The tight, dark blanket that had wrapped around Astarion’s chest began to loosen up.  

“I… I’m glad that she’ll be alright,” was all he managed to vocalise as the adrenaline slowly faded from his body.

“Thank you, Isobel,” added Gale, who had been nervously walking up and down your tent as Isobel had tended to your condition. 

Even Shadowheart, a devoted follower of Lady Shar, spared a few words of gratitude towards the cleric following her sworn enemy’s beliefs.

A general sense of ease took over from the strained atmosphere that had prevailed just a moment ago.

“She needs rest and quiet now,” Isobel claimed and gave a telling look to your companions and the assembly of Harpers that gathered around your tent. 

An unspoken demand that it was time to give you some space now.

*

“I will stay with her,” Astarion announced to Shadowheart and the remaining group after Isobel and the Harpers had left for the Last Light Inn. There had been a quick discussion if you should have been brought with them, but eventually it was decided that you were more safe in your own bedroll than being dragged through the shadow infested lands again. 

“Are you sure, Astarion? I’d be more than glad to watch over her myself,” Shadowheart responded, not hiding her surprise over his proposition.

Even if Astarion wasn’t sure about anything in particular right now, he felt the pressing need to remain by your side until you would open your eyes again, ensuring that Isobel had spoken the truth and the threat had passed. 

“Well, I won’t be able to get some more rest tonight anyway, so I might as well just stay over here,” he attempted in a more indifferent manner. “Besides, her tent is by far the most comfortable one our excuse for a camp has to offer, and I’m looking forward to indulging in some peace and quiet after all of this night's terrible trouble.”

Karlach listened to his explanation in slight amusement and gave him a supporting nod. Liar, her smiling face said.

“Well, if you’re sure, and there are no objections… Then it’s fine with me, I suppose,” Shadowheart replied with a raised eyebrow. “But promise to shout for me if something’s the matter, will you?”

“Gods, would you please give me some credit here, you mother hen. I got this,” Astarion said and rolled his eyes. On the inside, he was still shaken up, and he could only hope that the slight pitch in his voice wouldn’t give him away. “So hush hush everyone, off you go now. Get in some  beauty sleep, as you all are evidently in need of it.”

“Chk!” Lae’zel interfered in the most angry whisper she could muster. “Leave Astarion to look after her for the night if he insists. I’m certain he knows the fate that will await him should she come to harm under his supervision.” Lae’zel’s very own way to express that she came to care about you.

“Charming as ever,” Astarion replied at this implicit threat, still holding no intention to move merely an inch from his spot next to your bedroll.

“You see, Shadowheart? There seems to be no need to worry about our dearest friend,” Gale added with a slight chuckle. “I suppose she’ll be in good hands for tonight.”

Shadowheart let out a grunt and readied herself to leave with the others, but not before she would lay one last gaze on you, ensuring that you had not gotten any worse over the last few minutes.

*

Astarion watched your chest rise and fall in a soothing rhythm.

What a mess this night had been.

From the moment the Harpers had brought you in it had been like a heavy weight violently crushing his chest over and over, turning him into an angry, scared wreck, and the pressure only began to wear off by now.

Realistically, he knew that you were safe and the danger had passed. But then, why was there such an uneasiness lingering on him?

He had been scared in his life before, probably more times than he could recall, and yet… The fear over losing you tonight had shifted something in him. 

You had called for him in your feverish delirium, as you were lying helpless and in pain. 

It was an image hard to shake off.

Astarion sighed, when he noticed that you were still in your armour. There was no way in Hell he would let you sleep in this reeking dirt-covered piece of cloth, so his dexterous fingers began to peel it off, piece by piece. Carefully not to wake you, he stored your armour aside, until you were lying in your undergarment. Then he took your blanket and wrapped it around you.

With another gentle motion, he let his finger stroke along your brow, brushing over the dampness of your skin. You were still feeling hot. 

His nose wrinkled as he pulled down his sleeve to cautiously wipe your sweat away. There was no need to get up to fetch some extra cloth, and he would be perfectly capable of cleaning his shirt the next morning.

For a while, Astarion would just watch over you, mustering your relaxed face and ensuring that your breathing continued steadily. You seemed to be in a calm sleep, still feverish, but evidently better looking than the moment you had been brought in.

The next morning came to his mind. Perhaps he might attempt to prepare your favourite food for you, a simple but apparently very delicious berry porridge. Not that he had any particular experience on the matter, since his culinary needs were restricted to blood these days, but if someone like Gale was able to cook it, he surely would be too. Maybe he would surprise you with the dog or the owlbear for some morning snuggling in bed, as you seemed to never spend a single day without indulging in some pets on your journey. Well, he probably should bring in both. Oh how delighted you would be, waking up to these furry little beasts, he thought with a grin. 

Then it hit him.

Shit.

His nice, simple plan with you had truly and utterly fallen apart.

What should have been nothing more than an insurance for his safety, a way to rid himself of the tadpole in his brain and offer him a powerful ally to face Cazador some day, had developed into something he never experienced before.

He genuinely cared about you - more than he thought himself to be capable of. You had become most precious to him, and he felt the urgent need to be honest with you. 

You were incredible, and you didn’t deserve to be lured into a selfish alliance.

You deserved something real. 

He wanted things between you to be something real - even if he didn’t know what real looked like. After all, charming and deceiving others was the only way he had ever known. Forming a sincere connection and being close with someone posed an entirely new and remarkably scary sensation. But maybe, with you…

Your faint voice brought him back from his thoughts. 

“Asta...rion?” 

His face softened, not as an act of will, more like a reflex.

You looked at him with half-open eyes, sounding still a little weak.

He bowed his head closer to you and spoke softly, letting his thumb brush gently over your cheek.

"There you are, my little fool. Getting ourselves in trouble over our constant need to do something heroic again, weren’t we?”

“Mh… Is that so?” you asked in a raspy voice, offering a weak smile through glistening eyes underlined with dark circles, your hair pressed damp to your skull. “And you saved me, I suppose?” 

Astarion’s heart grew tight with adoration. To him, you had never looked more beautiful.

“I’m afraid not, my dear. Actually, you have been poisoned by a shadow creature, so you were in need of a more adept healer. Isobel treated you.”

“Mhm.. How bad was it?”

He thought for a moment, the fear he had felt rushing over him for a split second and piercing his chest like ice. 

"Well, not as bad as it could have. I’ll spare you the details for tomorrow.”

“That’s… good.” You hummed, sounding drowsy and still a little feverish. Then, you gave a soft plea. “Astarion… Would you… stay with me tonight?”

There it was again, a pull at his heartstrings. 

Gods, you wicked little thing.

“Of course, my darling. I’ll stay as long as you need me.”

A promise, unimaginable honest had it been another time, with another person, but this was now, and this was you.

He gave another gentle press to your hand, carefully intertwining your fingers with his, as if to underline his words.

"Thank you,” you whispered, eyes closed for a second before you let your gaze meet his again. Another quiet mumble. "Could you... hold me please?"

Astarion was overwhelmed by your vulnerability for a second. He wanted nothing more than to provide you comfort, to make you feel safe, but didn't know if he should give in. Even though you had often shared your bedroll these days, this somehow felt more open, more intimate.

Before he realised what he was doing, he swiftly lifted off your blanket to slip underneath and laid his arm around your waist, pulling you in close.

He could feel your hand on his chest. Your head gently resting on his shoulder, fingers loosely clutching around the end of his collar. Your warm body against his cold.

Astarion let his fingers gently caressing the small of your back.

You were breathing steady, already seeming to doze off again. A soothing calmness came over him.

“I hope… I didn’t worry you too much,” you mumbled, more asleep than awake.

Astarion bit his lip.

“Well…” he said and cleared his throat. “I managed.” A complete understatement of events, but this was also a confession for another day. “Rest now, my love.”

Astarion continued to gently stroke your back, his lips turning into an affectionate smile. He never thought his heart to be this full over the failure of such a simple plan.

Masterlist

[cvnt4him]

Spicy plot idea‼️

What if Bakugou Katsuki is Y/N's ex and now she is celebrating her engagement to Izuku? The happy couple announce the news during a little get-together with their old classmates and Bakugou's still kind of hung-up on his ex,.. DRAMA!

He's just staring at Y/N, who's proud to show her emerald engagement ring to everyone

So here is Y/N, now on their knees for soon-to-be husband Izuku while he's on your phone with your ex because its the 3rd time he has called you after your big announcement

Wow... This is... Beautiful. Idk how your gorgeous mind came up with something like this but it is.. MWAH.

The man on the other side.

Izuku wasn't a jealous man. He was nothing of the sort, he wasn't a possessive or vile human being like someone he knows. Your ex boyfriend, bakugou katsuki was a horrible excuse for a man. Izuku hated how the night he was just silently staring at you and occasionally sipping his drink, not even giving izuku a single glance because his volcanic ruby red eyes were stuck on you and your figure.

The way you jumped up and down in excitement to share the news of your engagement to the number one hero. Katsuki felt bile rising in his throat at the news, he couldn't help but feel a tinge of regret, anger, and something more. Katsuki knew he lost something good with you, if you were to ask him why he did what he did he would tell you he didn't mean it. That it was a mistake that should've never happened. If he even got a chance to be in your presence, speak to you, breathe the same air as you, he wouldn't know how he'd react.

Izuku hated the fact that those fierce ruby eyes craved you, that he wanted to be near you. Izuku could see it, he could see right through the intense blond. Izuku only acted on pure impulse walking towards you and pulling you close by your waist to kiss you deeply and passionately, you wrapped your arms around his neck with a giggle some of the girls awing and cooing sweet and praising words to you two about how cute you are and how your engagement will be the news of the century.

The guys groaning and teasing izuku for trying to be the center of attention with this heated long lasting kiss, when you finally pulled away he rubbed his thumb across your bottom lip smearing your lipstick just a little bit more it had already stained his lips the deep wine shade of red that painted your own. He licked his lips before slapping you on the ass and telling you he was going to get a drink. You felt so embarrassed all the girls whistling and teasing you.

While walking away izuku made damn sure that katsuki was looking at him instead of you. Their eyes locked onto each other staring deeply into one another. Katsuki was furious, he hated seeing you be claimed by another man that wasn't him, he hated that you were happy with him.

Izuku loved this however, the angry fiery look behind katsukis eyes only egged him on more, izuku bit his lip before licking them and shooting the blond a wink. A chuckle left izukus lips as he finally turned away from the staring contest, katsuki was infuriated by izuku nearly exploding his cup before kirishima calmed him down.

When you were left alone with mina the conversation ended up shifting to bakugou somehow. You didn't like how she managed to get you to talk about your ex, you wanted to leave such things like 'situationships' and highschool loves in just that, highschool. You were an adult now who didn't have time for this petty rivalry with your fiance and your ex. Izuku knew you were his and he knew you loved him, he always found some sweet loving way to remind you that you'd be stupid to leave him. Something about him treating you like you were meant for nothing more than to be a pretty little housewife turned you on.

"have you ever thought about him? Y'know like at all??"

Mina pestered taking a sip from her cup with raised brows, she was really trying to get just something out of you and honestly you weren't here for the gossip.

"no. not once, I'm happy with my relationship and my fiance, katsuki is my past and nothing more. of course he is always welcome to the wedding but I can't say that I've thought about him in anyway."

You shrug and excuse yourself to grab another drink. You weren't drinking an alcoholic beverage so it was easier for you to finish your drink a lot faster than everyone else. Walking to the drink stand you felt eyes on you again, you knew whose eyes they were, the same eyes that had been eyeing you all day. You turn slightly to look at your ex at the corner of your eye, the way he looked at you with such a soft gaze, his features looking so pretty, and the fact his bow tie was horribly tied made you see that he tried to look nice. He tried to put up an effort and that was admirable.

You turned back to the drinks before sighing and setting your cup down. You didn't want to have to carry the stress of a never ending relationship that had already ended. You two had unfinished business that the both of you sensed. You lied to mina before, you told her that you had never thought about katsuki at all, but the truth is you have. You'd thought about him before, in fact you were thinking about him the entire car ride there. You were afraid to see him, you assumed he was going to cause a scene once he found out he news of your engagement to his former best friend.

You decided to stop being the way you were and suck up everything. You were going to relieve yourself of this random piling stress. You sigh once more before shaking all of your jitters away and walked toward katsuki, his eyes widened as he watched you walk to him with an awkward smile. He didn't know how to react, his eyes darting from side to side then back to you.

Once you were in front of him it made you realize how much taller he was than you, his intense volcanic red eyes squinting down at you with a raised brow and a slight smirk forming on his lips.

"well well well, look who finally came up for air to realize others around her."

You chuckle and shake your head, you and izuku had only kissed the one time and the fact that he was capable of telling you this was proof he really had been watching your every move all night.

"yes well, I suppose I'm the bad guy for wanting to have a conversation with you, eh? If that's the case I'll leave you be, enjoy the rest of your night katsuki."

You courtesy lifting your dress as you bow your head before giving him a slight wave of your hand signifying some sort of goodbye. Katsuki groaned slightly and rolled his eyes, grabbing at your wrist to pull you back towards him. You chuckle before your face came directly into his chest, both of your eyes had widened. In all truth he hadn't intended to do that, he just meant to pull you gently back towards him he didn't mean for you to end up flush into his chest.

You both clear your throat as you pull away and dust off your dress. You were praying for yourself to the gods up above that izuku hadn't just seen this weird display of emotions. But he did. He'd seen it and fucking hated it. Izuku stared daggers into the both of you, his emerald eyes that formerly matched you diamond emerald ring were filled with something much darker than before. Something heavier than just spite, he wanted to rip katsukis arms off for even toughing you. It's like izuku could see orange marks where his hands had touched your wrist. He swore that by the end of this night you weren't going to be thinking about anyone but him. He was going to remind you who you belonged to.

"yeah, so uh, how.. how have you been, katsuki."

"tch, like you even care, cupcake."

"I do... Maybe."

"maybe? Oh come on, tell me you haven't thought about me at least once."

"don't flatter yourself, katsuki."

You spend the rest of the night chatting it up, telling stories, and making each other laugh. You wouldn't admit it out loud but you enjoyed his company. It was refreshing to clear the air between you two and share a laugh. You had missed him, but you wouldn't forget what he did to you. How he made you feel inferior and small. How he cheated on you then tried to gaslight you. Just the thought of that made you laugh cease to exist. Katsukis followed suit.

"it was really good to catch up, katsuki. I enjoyed this."

"me too, cupcake."

"but you have got to stop calling me that lame ass name I tell you."

"tch, that name has meaning dumbass. It runs deeper than your stupid cringe culture."

You snort and slap his arm and he simply scoffs with an eye roll. Izuku had been spying on you two for the rest of your time there, he listened closely to everything you said and tried his damnedest not to just charge at katsuki the first second he got. Izuku would be patient, he was going to wait for the very moment he could fuck katsuki over.

Izuku walks over to the two of you taking both of you by surprise, he kisses your forehead before giving the angry blond a half smile that instantly fell once you turn to look at katsuki again. You looked back up to your fiance to see his dark demeanor, the way something dark and evil radiated from him. It was almost like you could see a dark cloud surrounding his very figure.

You put a hand on his chest which made him look down at you with the same look that he gave katsuki, his grip on your waist tightened and was almost bruising, it stung in the worst way and almost brought a tear to your eye.

"I think we'd better start heading out, hm love?"

He asks you in a low tone, his eyes never leaving yours as you simply nod with a squeak. He smiles and hums at you rubbing his nose against yours. You giggle before waving slightly to katsuki, izuku slaps your ass as you both head toward the door katsukis eyes never left you two as a scowl painted his face, izuku looked back to the blond, looking him up and down before rolling his eyes and walling out with you. That enraged katsuki even more.

Izuku being the gentleman he is even though he was furious with you for talking to your ex, he still opened your door for you but he swore the second you two got home you would be on your knees.

Once you arrived back at your house you were ready to take your clothes off and go to bed, you wanted to cuddle your soon to be husband and get in the bed, that sounded absolutely perfect.

You both go up to your room and you ask for izukus help unzipping your dress, he hums and stands behind you closely, his fingers dragging up your body all the way to the zipper. He twirls it around his finger before putting his nose in the crook of your neck and inhales your sweet scent. The strong smell of your perfume and natural essence taking over his mind. He sighs into your skin, gently placing kisses from your shoulder to your neck.

He hums and pulls you deeper into him, his hands going down to your waist and the other finding itself around your neck. Normally when he does things like this you usually gather that he's trying to initiate sex, however it was kind of hard to tell this time. He seemed more angry than horny, his movements gave him away, his anger was practically seething from him but in a quiet manner. You knew your finance, you knew when he was bothered by something. You just didn't know what exactly he was so bothered by.

His grip on your neck got tighter and tighter by the second making you slightly gasp for air, you bring your hand up to his and placed it on top of his gently. His pointer finger tapped against your chin lightly, he stared daggers into your eyes through the mirror, lucent emerald green eyes getting darker and full of lust by the second.

"izu,—"

"why were you talking to him, my love."

He mumbles lowly into your ear, his grip getting tighter and tighter cutting off your air circulation as you gripped the hand that was choking you, he looked at your eyes closing in the mirror and watched the way your face contorted and changed in discomfort and need of air. He simply just watches, his grip was harsh and seemed like it would leave a mark, he watches closely as a single tear falls from your eye. A smile was brought to his face as he let your neck go, you nearly fell to the floor and would have if he hadn't been holding your waist so tightly.

He cups your cheek and craned your head back up to face him through the mirror, you sniffled and your breath shivered as he wiped away the tears that fell with a smile. He kissed your cheek as he slowly unzipped your dress, it began sliding off of your shoulder slightly and he was quick to kiss and nip at the exposed skin.

"what.. mmh~ what do you mean, zu?"

In one swift motion izuku pinned you against the nearest wall slamming you hard against it, you hit your head rather hard and he didn't even seem to care. You winced and he just looked deep into your eyes, it's like he was stealing your souls with how his dark lidded eyes were staring into yours.

Your breaths were shaky, you knew if you said or did the wrong thing it'd end with you being edged teased and probably without his cock in general, you had to play things smartly if you wanted to gain leverage.

Izukus large hand finds itself snaking up your bare thigh to rub gentle circles on the inside of it, his fingers coming dangerously close to your clothed cunt. A quiet whimper left your mouth as you tried to turn away from him before he gripped your jaw and turned your head back.

"don't look away, slut."

You gulped and let out a sigh, his middle finger gently rubbed up and down your slit, his brow raised at the dampness he felt. His lips quirked up slightly and he leaned in to you, you lifted your head up to reach his lips until he stopped right in front of you, his eyes trailed down to your lips and he lets his breath fan over you.

You whimper in slight annoyance which just makes him chuckle lightly above you, you were so cute like this. Soaking your panties for him while he gently plays with your pretty puffy pussy.

"do you want me to touch you baby?"

You nod, and bury your face in his neck. He hums and kisses your head taking in the scent of you. You two haven't had much time together due to him working, he hasn't had time to fuck you like he knew you needed. He felt that he didn't have time to be cruel with you. He needed to fuck you right then and there.

He quickly hoisted you up into his arms, you wrap your legs around his waist as he walks the both of you to the bed, he lays you back and instantly rips the rest of your dress off of your body. He undoes the tie you did for him earlier and takes his suit off, he unzips his pants and leans down to kiss your stomach, he trails his kisses all the way up your body to your neck which he then starts suckling lightly on.

You whimper and wrap your legs around him again as a way to say you're ready, he sighs and lets his thick cock out of his boxers, he strokes it up and down a couple of times until he sees a bead of precum spawning at the top of his large mushroom head. It was red and leaky, ready to be buried inside of you. He sighed shakily and moved forward towards your heat until you stopped him with your foot to his chest.

"zu... condom?"

He sighed and closed his eyes, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. A snarl tried to pull at his lips as he hummed and looked down at you. Izuku has grown a lot since UA. He wasn't some little boy anymore, but he knew how to use those puppy dog eyes when necessary.

"I'm.. I'm sorry honey, I just don't think I can handle a condom.. I want to feel good, I want to feel you. you want me to feel good.. r-right baby...?"

Izuku knew you were weak, especially because you were horny and craved to feel him inside of you. You sigh with a smile forming on your lips as you own your arms for him, he smiles back at you widely before diving into you and placing gentle kisses atop of your covered boobs. He snuck his hand between the two of you and led his eager cock head to your fluttering hole.

Izuku wasn't the biggest in the bunch but the stretch of his cock was so mesmerizing and delicious it always made you feel so full. He was thick and he knew how to drag his cock against your walls in such a sexy way, it had you wettening and gripping his cock tightly, he winced at the tightness of you.

"fuck baby you're so fuck— fucking tight..."

You scratch at his back which makes him groan into your neck, he was so close to drooling he had to suck it all back up before it left his lips. His eyes were rolling in pure bliss, he thrusted in and out of you at a fast pace, his hips instantly started stuttering and he had to bite his lip harshly just to not cum inside of you yet.

You knew izuku was going to cum inside of you, he didn't know how to not cum inside of you, he could promise you that he wouldn't and turn around n empty his guts inside of you. You didn't have too much of a problem with it because your head was spinning in pleasure, your cunt just didn't want to let go of him, It's like you took in the shape of his very cock and sucked him for all he was worth. With every thrust you felt the air inside of you get knocked out.

Just as izuku was about to cum your phone ring. The loud sound of your phone on the bed vibrating, he groans and grabbed it with intentions to simply silence it but once he seen the name. God he was even more infuriated.

You look up at him with glossy wide eyes in concern, those same eyes he wants to make cry. He looked between you and the phone and just before the ringing was to cease, he answered it.

You had thought that the phone simply stopped ringing so you grabbed at your fiances back and brought him closer which he happily obliged, he started gently thrusting inside of you making little mewls leave your lips, you bit your bottom one and let out a breathy sigh loudly which made the man on the other side of the phone chuckle.

You assumed that it was just izuku and shook it off, meanwhile izuku thought that the blond knew exactly what was happening, he was quite disappointed with the thought.

"tired of me already? You left before we could finish our conversation, cupcake."

"she's tired alright, ngh~ fuck baby juuust like that, shit.."

Izuku exaggerated into the phone, you looked up to him realizing he was in the phone and was soon to quietly protest as not to be heard but before you could even get a peep out izuku seen your mouth open and thrusted inside of you which made a moan rip out of your open mouth. Izuku chuckled as silence fell through the call.

Izuku kept letting out loud and some faux moans and groans just to piss the man on the other side off you roll your eyes and throw your head back as he continues to fuck into you at a godspeed pace.

Izuku stopped thrusting and groaned loudly, you gasp at the cease of movement. You were so close and it's like your orgasm just disappeared. You whined and before you could even protest he flipped you on top of him and started thrusting up into you. You were bouncing on his cock due to the intense move of his hips, he could carry you on his hips no matter your weight.

"f— fuck izuku!!"

"just like that baby let him hear the pretty song you sing for me."

Green electricity started trickling around his body, parts of it tickling and zapping your body. You placed your hands on izukus thighs for some type of stability only to fail, he was moving and thrusting far too hard and fast for you to even comprehend.

"...what the.."

"fuck~— !!"

You choke on your breath and feel the knot inside appear again, you groan n throw your head back as you cum all over his cock, you were so sensitive and you got so tight izuku just couldn't hold back the moans that started leaving his mouth. They were so slutty and airy you could tell he was close.

He soon followed suit to you and came inside of you, the pumps of his warm cum spreading throughout your insides leaving you in peace.

Katsuki was silent but only for a moment, he started yelling and shouting at the green haired man who simply chuckled and argued back with mean and cruel words. This went on for a while as you sigh and close your eyes as your body collapses on top of his. Izuku was still buried deep inside of you, you felt the vibrations of his chest every time he laughed or spoke.

It lulled you off into a deep slumber, you couldn't even begin to think about katsuki or what he must think of you and the events that went down. You were too fucked out in pure bliss. You felt yourself and your consciousness floating away as you fell into slumber in your soon to be husbands arms. He held you close while still shit talking with the blond who ended up hanging up in izukus face. He simply laughed and threw your phone somewhere in the bed.

Izuku kissed your forehead and pulled out, shoving his limp cock back into his boxers he pulled the cover over the both of you and sighed in content. He was happy with how things went down tonight.

AN: this was finished at 12:21 n I'm so tired. I have work tomorrow AND I still have to write something for my zuzubears birthday, chat this was a stressful day. The ending was rushed but I can't begin to care so. Enjoy!!

[honey-milk-depresso]

Jason, Tim and Dick with an s/o who’s completely the opposite of them??

Requests open until 1 Feb (GMT 8+)! Please read the rules on my pinned post (provided the navi post link to go to rules). Thank you!🩷

Batboys with an s/o completely opposite of them

Dick Grayson

Dick is a very extroverted, active and optimistic individual while you’re very introverted, lazy (let’s all be real here-) and… well, he calls you a realist (because he doesn’t wanna call you a pessimist-).

The two of you have a rather funny dynamic between the two of you: Dick’s always the one dragging you out because you need “sunlight”.

“Come on, s/o! Let’s take a stroll! Gotta get that vitamin D!”

“Dick… it’s 8pm.”

“…” “You get the point, come on now-”

He’s just concern for your health because he loves you and doesn’t want you to just laze at home all the time, you know? And isn’t it nice to take a stroll with your boyfriend?? Come on now-

Dick’s always the one to cheer you up when you’re grumpy or sad (or both), and you’re always there to ground him back to reality when needed and he appreciates that.

Another thing to note is that he actually has poor communication skills when it comes to the relationship, and always feels like he’s a burden to share his problems. You, on the other hand, aren’t afraid to speak your mind and put a lot of trust in him when it comes to communicating challenges within your relationship with Dick and you encouraging him to put trust in you because he will never burden you because you love him honestly makes him admire you, and also fall in love with you even more.

It’ll take some time, not because he doesn’t trust you, it’s just because there’s that lingering thought of not wishing to burden you and also because old habits die hard but… slowly he’ll get there, and that’ll be the one thing you guys can be similar in.

For now, he loves his potato couch cutie (just stroll with him every once in a while at least-) <3

Jason Todd

Has no idea how he even managed to get you, because you’re everything he’s not.

He’s always so emotional, impulsive and jealous, while you’re so calm, rational and trusting in him even when he knows he’s got so much sin in him that he’s not proud of committing, and knows he can’t be forgiven for them at times.

Yet… you never saw that in him. You’ve always thought he’s someone compassionate, loyal and caring, and you love him even at his worse. He’s never thought of himself like that after you told him so sincerely and gently that he almost broke down and cried. You love him so much as much as he loves you it makes him feel so warm and comforted. He just feels so lucky to have you.

He kinda wishes he’s like you, because he’d always think it’s better to be anyone else but you’d tell him otherwise. Besides, it’s always opposites that attract.

He loves you with every fibre of his being, you’re like a second chance given to him. Well, not that he sees you as a way to feel better but he genuinely believes you’re an angel sent to him. Literally. But seriously, he loves you and he’ll try to be a little bit more calmer than let his anger get the best of him. You always can calm him down anyways.

You always told him that his compassion for you touched you, and that his warmth and love is something you’ve never had before from anyone, you make him feel so special, you know that? <3

Tim Drake

Tim’s… all sorts of things. He’s ambivert, more introvert-leaning, but he’s also poor in time management due to his workaholic nature and rather reserved in temperament.

And you were a lot more responsible and better in time management because you ACTUALLY do set limits for yourself than just doing EVERYTHING in one goal. You weren’t a control-freak like him, rather taking things slowly. Just like him, you’re an ambivert but more extrovert-leaning and you had a tendency of getting lost in your emotions, just being more sensitive than him in general.

Every time you try to drag him to bed, shower, eat, just take care of himself he gets a bit pouty every time you do this but he’s touched. You had to open his eyes to let him see that timetables exist, and open up his heart to let him know it’s okay to take a break. Breaks even. He deserves breaks.

Tim is always there to calm you down. You just get so worried for him every time he goes out for patrol because anything could happen to him in Gotham. He reassured you, kissing your forehead softly while you patch him up with a little bit of tears glossing your eyes and tells you he’s okay. He’s never really had people care for him so much to the point they cry which was why when he got a few minor cuts on his arms and torso, he panicked when he saw you cry so much. He makes a mental note to make sure he doesn’t come home too injured, but at the same time you always tell him he shouldn’t hide his pain from you. You just want him safe.

You two just blend well together, and he always feels like he can come to you when he feels troubled. And you can always go to him for comfort.

Bonus: You dragging Tim by his feet to go to bed while his coffee-drunk ass is sighing in defeat and lets you drag him away but smiled tenderly despite being tired. Sigh, fine. He’ll sleep, just for you. <3

Reblogs help! ^^

[calocreek]

so which characters do you personally head cannon to have wings

Other than Grian, the only other hermit/life series character that I headcanon as having wings is Cub! Although he keeps them tucked away most of the time. He and Scar are both infused with Vex magic, but Scar got his wings removed at some point.

As for commonly headcanoned wing havers, here's my headcanons:

False is completely human so has never had wings. But I feel like if she made a statue or painting of herself it would have wings (long way of saying her fursona is a bird of some sort)

Jimmy has some unwelcome watcher traits that he tries to ignore. Though he doesn't have wings (yet...) he does occasionally wake up from confusing prophetic doom dreams surrounded by feathers

Skizz is (surprisingly!) human. However he got wing tattoos based on a joke about being the angel to Impulse's devil. Which Impulse thinks is hilarious (he doesn't)

Ok and then Grian...oh boy I have a mile long list of headcanons on watcher/evo lore that I will SOME DAY get into, maybe, but its like. Its just so much and made purely for an audience of one haha. LONG STORY SHORT: he used to be human, became a watcher, now has light shapeshifting powers where he can shift between his old human form and his true watcher form. He choses a form that's in between, to his liking. Here's some rough designs of how his wings are attached and my continued attempts to nail down a bird feet design that I like 😵‍💫

[rensblade]

𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐃.

⟢ warnings/notes: husband! jing yuan x gender neutral! reader. toothrotting fluff, cute domestic banter tbh. husband yuan nation, please rise. not proofread, we die like tingyun. might be ooc. pls lmk if i got any of the hsr terminology wrong.. appreciate any type of feedback & please please pleaseee send me reqs if u have any ✩

“beloved, am i really that bad of a general?”

the all too familiar baritone of your husband’s voice fills in your ears, as you raise your gaze from the distance, only to watch him sulk from where he was sat upon the seat of divine foresight.

to anyone that squints, would be graced upon a phenomenon all too odd— jing yuan, one of seven arbiter generals, pouting.

“and what.. exactly makes you think so, ‘yuan?” you already knew the answer, but you still entertained the fact he was pouting, almost comically the same way yanqing does, when you deny him from making impulsive sword purchases.. or the same way mimi, your household lion, scrunches up her face and paws at your clothes when you tell her that she won't get any more snacks for the night.

said man sits up from where he's at, and abruptly makes his way down to where you're seated— at his desk. sorting through some of the things unattended earlier during his earlier escapade to fyxestroll garden.

“well.. you know.” he deadpans, staring down at you. you have to keep in a giggle, finding the way he waited so patiently for you to finish with the work at your side, almost akin to your precious lion who does the same.

you heave a sigh, but in an amused way, as you stack the last documents into a neat pile and turn in your chair, and upon being graced with your attention; your lover nearly falls dramatically into your arms.

“i can't help but think i should just hand over my resignation early. you know what, fu xuan probably saw this coming,” he fake-wails, as you caress his hair, cooing at the man who was currently at your feet.

eventually, he relents, when you tug a little hard on his fluffy white mane. “darling.. is this about cirrus?” the mere mention of the heliobus makes jing yuan glower, and you practically have to bite back your laughter at the expression, opting to clear your throat instead.

he stays silent for a second, then scrunches his face. “..absolutely not,” he retaliates in a serious tone. then, he slumps forward again, almost nuzzling into your lap as he tries to hypothesize. “it's just. i need some constructive criticism, before i actually hand over my position to someone else, you know,” he reasons, but you know better.

“right, why of course.” you humor him a little bit longer. pushing the general’s buttons has always been your favorite past time activity.

he pulls away, getting on his feet before he gathers your hands into his and gives you a solemn look. “you get me, my love. this is why we're married.”

that makes you crack a smile. jing yuan only raises a brow, but returns the smile nevertheless, a little hesitant. “yuan, i love you, but. you mean solid constructive criticism like.. i don't know, maybe it's about time you retired and took a big fat cat nap?” you suggest with a snort, and jing yuan simply huffs. (yeah, mimi definitely got the attitude from her dad).

you shake your head, dragging him to sit next to you as you elaborated. “in all seriousness.. you're not a bad general. not a bad mentor, father or husband, jing yuan. don't let that silly heliobi’s words get to your head.” the tall man, lets you cup his face, squishing his cheeks as you pepper kisses across them, as if to prove your point.

he simply gathers your form up into his arms, holding you tightly and you can't help but relax into the warmth he emits. he's truly a big cat. “you know, i’m starting to think this must be how birds that nest in your hair must feel.” you point out with a false-huff, after a minute of silence.

jing yuan chuckles at that, purposely tugging you by the waist; flush closer against his torso as he nuzzles into you— pale locks of his hair cloud your vision. “why, of course. a wise, little sparrow, you are.” he snuggles against you, golden eyes softening as they examine your reactions. “in fact, my favorite.” the baritone of his words send a pleasant wave of warmth through your body, you can feel him smile against your skin as he litters little kisses here and there.

to be fair, if you were held prisoner in his gentle yet steady hold forever, you were more than willing to be reduced to a mere bird, for eternity. okay, and maybe you would miss making snarky rebuttals at the general, but that's about it.

as you're resting yourself against him, a thought crosses your mind, and you'd bask in the silent affection but your loud thoughts cut you short. “and for the record, you still should've let me kick cirrus’s butt.” as expected, a hearty laugh booms from the man’s chest, the vibrations making your body tingle.

“i love you.” he says, practically purring, as the gigantic man nuzzles even further into the crevice of your neck, pressing yet another kiss to the spot he loves. his hair tickles your neck, but you love the familiarity of it all.

what a heavenly life you live, as the general’s personal songbird.

rensblade, 2023. please do not steal my writings or headers, i put a lot of effort into this. reblogs & comments are appreciated! pls send me asks/reqs, i write for most genshin or hsr or jjk characters as of now. thank u once again <3

[bamfkeeper]

Sinister Kurt having trouble with his instincts, you are the only one who calms him.

Firstly, Kurt with horns? YUM. But I like how they showed him having difficulty controlling himself after his mutation was further developed (I don't remember what the circumstances were). I thought it was a cool concept for his character so here we go. Inner conflict is always fun.

Warnings: Descriptions of violence and blood, some angst, comfort ofc, gender neutral reader, unedited ignore mistakes.

WC: 2.7k

Kurt had no idea where they came from. He woke up with two horns on his head like some sort of Krampus. He felt something inside himself stir, and he tried to ignore it, it felt like a pit in his gut that slowly began to expand and grow when he wasn't focused on repressing it.

You reassured him he was still the handsome man you loved, his horns gave him a little extra insecurity. He hadn't felt so insecure about himself in a long time, as Krakoa had provided such acceptance his appearance hadn't been a thought in his mind as a bad thing. But these horns...they made him look more like a devil than anything else, and that worried him.

"Engel...I am becoming ein Teufel..." he mumbled sadly, touching them as he looked at himself in the mirror. "What is becoming of me..." he turned to look at you, his eyes holding confliction and sadness.

"Oh, my love," you cooed to him, standing and walking over, "They're just a pair of little horns...I'm sure that they'll go away...maybe." Your sentence quieted towards the end, it was such a random development, you had no idea where the horns stemmed from and what was going to happen to him. Was his mutation randomly evolving more? Was it something in Krakoa that was making his mutation mutate? You didn't know.

Kurt sighed inwardly, his arms wrapped tightly around himself as if seeking solace from an unseen torment. You hadn't seen him in this state for years; he looked so lost, so utterly confused. It was as though he was grappling with a fear that had taken residence within him, a fear directed at his very own reflection. With his new appearance, you couldn't blame him for feeling this way.

His once familiar face now bore the horns of a demon and he couldn't recognize himself, even with something so minor. He thought he looked awful, and he was at a complete loss on how to process these overwhelming feelings, the weight of his transformation was a burden he didn't know how to carry.

Not that he told you yet, but it wasn't just a physical change he had gone through. There was something deeper and more unsettling happening within him. His urges were growing stronger and more insistent every day. He felt a strange compulsion that he couldn't easily explain. He didn't know how to bring it up with you because he didn't want to scare you or make you worry. The thought of sharing this part of himself was something he was trying to avoid, he feared your reaction more than anything.

He would see you talk to another man, and everything in his body screamed at him to attack. His muscles tensed, his fists clenched, and his heart pounded as primal instincts surged through him. The images and urges that flashed across Kurt's mind scared him deeply, filling him with a sense of dread and confusion. He shook his head vigorously, trying to dispel the violent thoughts clouding his mind.

"Nein...I am...not a monster," he muttered to himself, arguing, begging with his own being, his voice trembling with the effort to control his darker impulses. He held onto you, whispering German prayers to himself. The internal struggle was intense, leaving him feeling isolated and tormented, as if he were battling a beast within.

And he was, in a way.

His grip on your hip would be tight, his nails had grown into claws that dug into you, not on purpose but in the moment he couldn't help himself. His yellow eyes glared at the man, his lip curled up slightly to bare his teeth. He snapped out of his descent only when he heard your voice in his ear. "Kurt?? That hurts, a bit..." You winced slightly, your hand gently trying to ease the grip he had on your waist.

He snapped out of it, blinking a few times and letting go. "Liebling....I...es tut mir Leid...." he apologized quietly, his voice barely a whisper. He looked down at his hand once he let go of you, his eyes filled with confusion and concern. "Something is happening to me...I....do not know how to explain it," he continued, his tone tinged with a mix of fear and bewilderment.

What was strange was that a part of him actually liked these new instincts that were surfacing within him. It was a feeling that baffled him, and he hated himself for even entertaining such thoughts. He had always prided himself on his compassion and his desire to never cause harm to anyone, ever.

But now, these intrusive thoughts were invading his mind with increasing frequency, making the idea of causing harm seem so...good, almost irresistible. It was a battle within himself, between the person he had always been and these dark new impulses that threatened to take over. It was like a siren song, beckoning him to come over the brink.

"What do you mean?" you asked him gently, your voice full of understanding and patience. Despite having no idea what was going on, you managed to sound so composed and caring. He was incredibly fortunate to have someone like you by his side. So deeply in love with him, you were always there to protect and support him. Your devotion was unwavering, and it made him feel cherished. So protective. So possessive.

Kurt stared you down intently, his piercing yellow eyes observing your every move. After a moment of intense scrutiny, he grabbed hold of you firmly and tugged you flush against him. You could feel the warmth of his body against yours, and his breathing increased noticeably. You made a sudden gasp of surprise at the unexpected act, your heart pounding in your chest.

He lowered his head closer to you, his forehead gently touching yours, his horns rested delicately on your head. Behind him, his tail thrashed wildly, a clear indication of his heightened emotions. It was obvious that he was either irritated or stressed, as his tail only behaved this way in such situations. The air around you seemed to crackle with tension, making the moment even more intense. His silence didn't help.

"Kurt...?" you squeaked as his hands grasped your ass and squeezed firmly, sending a shiver down your spine. Your eyes widened in surprise and you felt his tail wrap tightly around you, holding you still in a firm, possessive grip.

"Kurt!" you exclaimed, looking around nervously. He had never been so bold before, and this unexpected display of affection caught you off guard. A few playful touches here and there in public were common, sure, but to grab you in such an intimate and brazen manner without a care in the world was completely unlike him.

Your mind raced as you tried to make sense of his sudden audacity, wondering what had prompted this uncharacteristic behavior. "W-what has gotten into you?!" Your voice echoed in his mind, getting lost in the fog clouding his rational thinking. All he could think about right now was you. How good you'd feel, how good you'd taste.

One more shout at him and he seemed to snap out of the hold the dark fog inside of him had. With a blink he pulled back, his cheeks turning violet, "Ach! I-I didn't mean to do that!" Kurt spoke quickly, his voice trembling with urgency, "Es tut mir Leid! I-I'm sorry!" His eyes were wide with concern as he looked at you, clearly distressed.

His hands, which have been on your backside, were retracted up like he had touched an oven, fingers curling as if to protect himself from further harm. The tension in the air was palpable, and you could see the regret etched on his face, his body language screaming apology and fear.

"Kurt, sweetheart...please, talk to me. Tell me what's going on..." You pleaded with him, your hands cupping his cheeks. "I'm not mad because you grabbed my butt either. You've literally been inside me," your words made him stiffen and blush harder, a tiny whine escaping through his trembling lips. "I just want to know what's going on...you're acting so...different. Since those horns sprouted from your head..."

He took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling with a heavy sigh, and looked down to avoid your gaze. The weight of his thoughts made it impossible for him to bring himself to look you in the eye. He felt such shame and embarrassment, fearing you wouldn’t like what you heard. After a moment of silence, he finally spoke, his voice trembling with vulnerability.

"I've been... having thoughts. Bad thoughts... these images flash across my mind. They are random sometimes, appearing out of nowhere, but sometimes they happen in the moment," he begins quietly, his words barely audible. "It's like a dark cloud that follows me, casting a shadow over everything. I don't know what to do about it, and I'm scared of what it means. I'm afraid it means I am becoming something horrible..."

You coo softly, your thumbs gently rubbing his cheekbones as you stay quiet, offering him the space and time he needs to get out the words he struggles to voice. "What are they? The thoughts?" you ask gently, your voice barely above a whisper, trying to coax him into sharing more with you so you can have a better understanding.

"Hurting people," Kurt's voice strains, "I don't want to! I don't want to hurt anyone, I'm not a monster... I don't want to be one... but... it's so overwhelming sometimes. It's like every fiber in my body is demanding me to do it," he continues, his voice cracking under the weight of his confession. You can see the torment etched across his face, the internal struggle tearing him apart.

"You aren't a monster, Kurt. This might just...be part of this new development," you said, your voice gentle and reassuring. You stroked up more, feeling the base of his horns, noting the texture and warmth. "You don't act on those thoughts, and that's a good sign. You're not a slave to those intrusive flashes; you recognize that they are wrong, and you don't act on them. That means you aren't the person you imagine you are. You have control, even if it doesn't always feel that way."

"But what if I do act on them," he asks weakly, his voice trembling with fear and uncertainty. "What if I can't control it?"

"Then I will help you," you replied firmly, your eyes locked onto his, full of determination and love. "I'm not worried, because I believe in you." You gave him a tender kiss, showing him all the love you could muster. "Trust me, if you can't trust yourself. We will face this together, and I will be by your side every step of the way. You are not alone in this."

He shed a few tears, and they stained his pretty cheeks in dark lines as they traveled slowly down his face. His pained gaze closed tightly as he bit his lip, trying to stifle the sobs that threatened to escape. "Ich verdiene dich nicht," he whispered weakly, his voice barely audible as it trembled with emotion. His shaky hands held you with such gentle awareness, as if he were afraid to harm you accidentally with his claws.

"You do." You gave him a few more soft kisses, your gentle reassurance helping keep his emotions at bay.

That was a week ago.

Now, you followed the sound of his teleportation and saw him fighting alongside other mutants. You joined in, not knowing what exactly was happening, but seeing enough to know that these soldiers were attacking your home. You were fighting well, your skills made you a confident fighter, but when Kurt spotted you and more soldiers around you, his composure vanished.

That horrible itch he had been so desperate to scratch was finally too overwhelming for him.

The sound of a mighty roar echoed through the air as he lunged at the soldiers with a terrifying intensity. His movements were swift and brutal, attacking them with such ferocity that it left you stunned, unable to process what was happening. Normally, Kurt was known for his preference to incapacitate his opponents, opting to knock them down and out rather than kill them unless absolutely necessary. However, in this moment, he had abandoned his usual morals and principles, casting them aside like a forgotten cloak.

Right now, he was a force of nature, mercilessly ripping into the soldiers with an uncharacteristic savagery that showcased a side of him you had never seen before. You watched with disbelief as Kurt completely ravaged through the soldiers, staying in front of you and snarling with blood caked between his teeth, drooling down his goatee and staining his fuzzy skin. You tried to call out to him, to be the desperate voice of reason in his carnage.

It seemed that your voice fell on deaf ears, and he continued his relentless attack.

He had ruthlessly slaughtered over twelve men within a mere minute, and he didn't seem to have any qualms or remorse about it. The air was thick with tension as he turned to look at you, his chest heaving with heavy breaths like a wild animal after a fierce battle. Slowly, he crawled over to you, inching closer with a predatory grace.

You were frozen in place, paralyzed by the sheer brutality and unfamiliarity of this new Kurt. His eyes, which were usually so expressive and full of life, now seemed glazed over with an emotion you couldn't quite decipher. It was as if a stranger had taken over the body of the man you once knew, leaving you feeling more vulnerable and confused.

He dripped onto you, causing you to whine and hastily wipe the blood off your top. His head lowered against you, his breath warm and uneven. "Kurt...?" you asked weakly, your voice trembling as it escaped your lips.

The sound of your voice made him stiffen slightly, and he leaned back, his intense gaze boring holes into you, scrutinizing every inch of your face. The air around you felt thick with tension, and you could feel the heavy weight of his stare.

His breathing calmed, the rapid rise and fall of his chest slowing to a more steady rhythm, and he stayed where he was, staring at you with an unwavering focus. You swore he seemed more mutated in that moment, his claws were longer, sharper, and his horns almost appeared just as so, curving menacingly.

The changes in his appearance made your heart race even faster, a mixture of fear and concern gnawing at your insides as you wondered what exactly had happened to him. What caused this?

You slowly reached out to him, your hand trembling as it brushed against his cheek, ignoring the blood that spattered across his skin from his recent animalistic attack. The warmth of his skin contrasted sharply with the coldness of the blood. He relayed a quiet growl to you, his eyes blinking slowly, the ferocity gradually fading as he began to regain his senses.

As he came to, he saw the destruction he had caused, the chaos and ruin that lay around him. It was so painfully heart-wrenching to watch him realize the extent of what he had done, the devastation in his eyes made you want to wrap him up and take him away.

"W-what...what did I do..." he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper, as he glanced back over his shoulder. He could only bear to look at the bodies for a mere second before quickly averting his gaze in horror and disbelief. "Nein...nein, nein....I didn't...did I??" His bloody hands trembled violently, the crimson stains glaring back at him accusingly, and he made a quiet, heart-wrenching wail, shrinking into himself where he sat, overwhelmed by the gravity of the situation.

You were right there to catch him, just as you had promised. Gently, you reached out, offering the comfort and support he desperately needed.

"Hey, hey...it..it's okay," you tried to find the words to comfort him, but you realized words weren't enough to ease the pain or fear he was experiencing. So, you chose to just be there for him, offering silent support and understanding. Just you, being a comforting presence in his time of need.

He grabbed you and clung on, crying as he didn't bother holding himself back. He was distraught, the very thing he feared the most had happened. "I'm here." you whispered quietly, your arms wrapped tightly around him as the rest of the world faded away and you became the only thing he could focus on.

"I'm here."

Thanks for reading.

*BAMF*

dividers by @/adornedwithlight

Cover Images: Legion of X #7 (2023); Legion of X #8 (2023); Legion of X #7 (2023)