#minor romance

[jeejascoffee]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Baldur's Gate (Video Games) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Astarion/Wyll (Baldur's Gate), Astarion & Wyll (Baldur's Gate) Characters: Wyll (Baldur's Gate), Astarion (Baldur's Gate), Shadowheart (Baldur's Gate) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Loss of Eyesight, Blindness, Angst, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Drinking to Cope, very light romance, Wyll-centric, Non-Consensual Body Modification, as per canon, Hurt/Comfort Summary:

The changes Wyll experienced during his devil transformation are less than ideal. He can live with the horns, but the lack of clear vision…

Being burned by hellfire left him with poor eyesight in his solitary eye. Whether that was supposed to happen or not, here he is.

Astarion notices. Of course, he can’t keep his opinions to himself.

(Written for Wyll Week)

[boggleirha]

Sleeping Citadel Choose Your Own Adventure

[thebubblesareevil]

Only the best Kings wear pink! Pt 2

Part 1 part 3

The day things changed was just like any other. The Keep was decked out with pink decorations and different activities though-out the castle, including but not limited to: tea in the garden, manicure stations, parent playgrounds (note spa), bowification stations, the glitter corner, the archery range, Queen Dorothea’s dragon tower…etc

Everything was ready for their monthly guests when, rather unexpectedly, he heard a knock at the door.

His guests had long forgone knocking (the parents could rarely get to the door before the children charged in). He managed to get to the door, waving off a busy maid carrying a delicious looking cake, where her was greeted by the teary eyed face of a young girl.

That in itself was odd, Danny made a point of no tears in the keep.

There was also the fact that she was very much alive.

Danny immediately kneeled in front of the little girl.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your tears, but are you here for the princess tea party?” He asked gently.

The little girl sniffled. “Tea party?”

Danny nodded. “All the little princesses of my Kingdom are invited.”

“But I’m not a princess.” She cried a bit more. Danny gave her a thoughtful hum.

“You certainly look like a princess to me.” Danny stated. “Are you lost little princess?”

She nodded, rubbing the tears from her eyes.

“Tell you what, why don’t you join us for our tea party and then I’ll personally escort you back to your castle, what do you say?”

The little girl sniffled, pondering for a moment before nodding.

“Wonderful!” Danny grinned. “And may I learn the name of the such an adorable princess?”

The little girl giggled “Lian! Lian Harper!”

“A lovely name for a lovely princess!” Danny grinned. “C’mon, I’m sure Lilac can get you your very own princess dress while we wait for the others.

——-

Lian fit in perfectly with the other children. Some of the parents seemed a bit skeptical, though they quickly accepted it after a brief explanation from the King.

Some parents went straight for the spa while others headed towards the suggestion room. (It really cut down on audiences when issues could be resolved with a letter)

All too soon the day ended and skulker reported to Danny with Lian’s home address.

Danny found her in the garden napping among the blossoms.

Danny smiled, gently nudging the girl awake.

“Lian? It’s time to go home now.”

“Hmmm?” Lian sluggishly raise her arms to be picked up by the King. Danny chuckled.

“Of course.” He gently picked, cradling her in his arms.

Silently he opened a portal into Lian’s bedroom carefully tucking her into bed.

Not even a moment after he vanished did a frantic babysitter rushed into the room, nearly sobbing in relief when she found the little girl.

(She was never playing hide and seek with the little ninja again)

——-

For the next few months the pattern continued. Though somehow no one ever seemed to notice when the girl vanished each month.

She had fully indoctrinated herself among the little ghosts of the tea party, every month the boys would challenge her to an archery bout and lose each time reluctantly conceding to getting the makeup done with each loss. (Edgar was quite fond of rainbow unicorn sparkle nails)

She was never late nor was she ever early (this led to many suspicions that Danny didn’t care enough to confirm). More than anything, after the 2nd time of her wandering into his Keep, Danny made a point of giving her a ghost whistle to call cujo if she ever got lost or needed him.

So he was understandably concerned when he was summoned by his (favorite) little princess by magic of all things.

He of course answered to summons (what if she was in dAnGeR???!?!?)

He stepped out of the portal at his full size, nearly hitting his head on the ceiling of the warehouse he found himself in.

Danny frowned, looking around he didn’t see Lian until he looked down at the crying little princess at his feet. Danny immediately shrunk down, completely ignoring the heroes fighting the cloaked (cultist? Fanatics? Victims of his wrath? That last one felt right) soon to be victims of his wrath.

Once he was at more manageable size he picked up Lian and swiftly removed her bindings.

“What’s wrong princess? If you wanted to see me all you needed to do was call.” He asked gently combing her hair with his claws, ignoring the red headed archer shouts.

“The mean men said they were gonna hurt Daddy and uncle Jay Jay, and all their friends!” She sniffled looking up at Danny giving him a clear view of the line of blood on her neck where his (very) soon to be victims nicked her.

“Shh, shh, don’t you worry princess. Why don’t you go hang out in the keep and help Spectre paint Banshees nail, hmm? I’m sure Fright would love it if you could braid his hair again too.” Lian pressed her wet face into Danny’s chest as she nodded.

He reached out, opening a small portal to gently place the little princess in his daughter’s room with a quick explanation.

He temporarily ignored the red heads screams and allowed the flurry of arrows and gunfire to pass through him.

He had other things to deal with right now.

“Now who do I have the pleasure of destroying today?”

One of the cloaked soon to be victims was clearly an imbecile as he stepped forward and began to shout.

“We offer you these two sacrifices in addition to the girl, that you might grant us the power to defeat our enemies, o mighty King of the Infinite Realms!”

Danny took a moment to count. “How strange, see I counted 15 victims and 2 spectators. You must need to get your glasses checked” Danny nodded to himself, allowing his for to stretch and his power to fill the room.

“But, I don’t have-“

Danny struck hard and fast. They would never see the light of day again.

After he was done disposing of the trash, he turned his attention to the heroes. Each of which had a weapon trained on his head, unfortunately human weapons didn’t work on him so they wouldn’t be much help.

“You son of a bitch! Give her back!!!” The red head shouted, his hands shaking.

“The rest of our team will be here any minute! Surrender now return the girl and we won’t have to fight you!” Helmet head shouted. Something felt off about that one, almost…familiar. Danny squinted and made a (probably stupid decision)

“Hmmm, nope” he snapped his fingers and two portals appeared underfoot of the two heroes.

[fox-guardian]

starting to feel like part of the reason that Sam and Celia's romance thing feels a little off rn is cuz like. what do you mean they're actually dating. he asked her on a date and she said yes. and it's working out so far. it's chill and fine. what do you mean they're not pining for 4 seasons, not communicating, and then getting together only after one of them walked through hell to drag the other out and make sure they know they're loved and wanted. they haven't even patched each other's wounds yet hello. aren't y'all moving a little fast.

[miradelletarot]

Ya know, I imagine that for as kinky and wild Gale can be in the bedroom, I would think his favorite thing in the world is slow, sleepy, super affectionate sex.

It's that moment where him and his partner can just entangle themselves in each other, to feel every sensation of their contact with one another. No expectations, no words needed. Just a languid exploration of his partner's body using all the senses.

The little noises they make with every gentle thrust or thoughtful caress

The salty taste of their skin with each kiss.

The blissful look on their face as they come undone...that sweetest flush of their cheeks.

The feel of their skin, all scars, ridges, smoothness, or wrinkles. He will basically memorize the topography of his lover's body.

The smell of them...That natural, unperfumed fragrance that belongs to only his partner. As unique as a fingerprint.

Gale can take his time, bring all of these sensations to memory, savoring the closeness and precious time with his love. It's less about the sex itself, and more about bonding in a very mortal way. He thrives on that deep connection with his partner because it's not something he's ever been accustomed to, and hasn't gotten in a very long time.

He deserves so much love and affection, and equally (if not more so) wants to express that to his partner. As often as the world allowed him to.

[nibmoss]

did you hear there’s a new short film that is GAY?? LESBIAN, even???

AND it’s filmed in a minority language?? a CELTIC language, one might say??

AND that it’s available for FREE, with SUBTITLES in both irish AND english??

“FAN” (2024) dir. cúnla ní bhraonáin morris

watch here 🫶

[0ffbeatt]

This is giving the eclair scene from the books i swear

[starlightvld]

Allowances

For @baohanhanesel - happy holidays! Have a little hurt/comfort, MacTavish family Christmas vibes, and Simon beginning to find his place among them (and a bit of sappy romance at the end).

(Also on AO3!)

---

"Dinnae fash, Simon. They're gonna love ye."

Ghost stands perfectly still beside the car as Johnny rounds the boot to step up beside him. They make a pair, with Johnny in a new bright red cable-knit sweater, jeans, and a navy blue knit cap that brings out the blue in his eyes, while Ghost is dressed down in his usual black shirt, black hoodie, and a black medical mask. His faded blue jeans are the only spark of color, as old and worn as Johnny's are crisp and new.

If he were a better person—a better partner—he would've worn something nicer. As it is, he's a split second away from turning around and disappearing into the Scottish twilight. The only thing keeping him rooted in place is—

A warm hand slips into his hoodie pocket and curls around his balled up fist. Ghost sucks in a deep, slow breath, and as he exhales, he releases the fist to clasp Johnny's hand palm to palm.

It terrifies him, the comfort a single touch can give. He knows how easily comfort can turn into soul-wrecking pain. Yet he clings to Johnny's hand with the kind of desperation Price would no doubt find concerning for a whole host of reasons.

"We dinnae have tae go inside," Johnny murmurs. "I can call mam from here and—"

"'M not gonna melt, Johnny. Just... gimme a minute."

He's already ruined Johnny's Christmas enough by bowing out of the actual holiday. But the aching despair of the anniversary always winnows him down to his basest self. Even three days later, he feels hollowed out and cold, his sole point of warmth the callused palm and strong fingers clinging to his as they huddle closer against the chill winter air.

Johnny doesn't know the sordid details, but he knows enough about special ops life to fill in the blanks. Every operator has their demons. Simon Riley's are just a little more harrowing than most.

At least the MacTavishes like to celebrate the winter season all the way through New Year's. Or so Johnny says. Ghost suspects the post-holiday get-together might be an allowance made specially for him, but he's certainly not going to ask about it. So here they are, standing in front of Johnny's childhood home outside of Glasgow, store-bought biscuits in hand, while a multi-colored glow spills through the frost-edged glass into the rapidly darkening outside world. It beckons them inside with the promise of warmth and joy and all the other things those trite holiday cards claim for the winter season.

Ghost doesn't move.

The blinking Christmas lights taunt him through the front window. Memories loom from the dark corners of his mind and threaten to upend the one thing he desperately wants to give Johnny—time with his family.

He takes another deep breath, taking care not to let the exhale shudder on the way out.

He's only met Emma and Grant MacTavish twice in passing at Johnny's medal ceremonies for Las Almas and then for the Chunnel op. The latter medal, a Victoria Cross, was officially for exceptional heroism in the line of duty and unofficially for assisting in the dismantling of a major bomb threat and taking down Makarov with a well-aimed stab. He and Johnny weren't in a relationship then, and even if they had been, it would've been inappropriate to mention it on base. Even so, he remembers the overflow of unearned gratitude in Emma's blue eyes—exactly like Johnny's—as she wrapped both of her warm hands around his and thanked him for keeping her boy alive.

The words still ring hollow as he thinks about Johnny collapsing on the cold concrete after clipping that final wire with Price.

He almost died in Ghost's arms that day, and Ghost hasn't been the same since. For one, he kissed his subordinate in the hospital the instant he thought Johnny was coherent enough to remember it and hasn't stopped kissing him since.

Completely unprofessional.

And utterly worth it.

With a final deep inhale and slow exhale, he straightens his shoulders. He can do this. Even if it makes his stomach cramp and his palms sweat with anxiety and the Christmas decorations seem to taunt him with memories of a family forever lost to him.

For Johnny, he can do this.

"Alright," Ghost murmurs—more to himself than to Johnny—as he slides their clasped hands from his hoodie pocket and pulls him toward the door.

It opens before they can knock, flinging brilliant light, excited conversation, and upbeat music into the night air. Emma MacTavish greets her son with a wordless exclamation of joy as she throws her arms around him in a tight hug. Somehow, Johnny manages to return the hug and answer rapid-fire questions about their journey all without letting go of Ghost's hand. Cold air pricks at the exposed skin around his medical mask, but Ghost is too focused on processing and cataloging every detail to acknowledge the physical discomfort.

Johnny looks more like Emma than he does Grant, sharing those bright blue eyes, dark hair, and a brilliant smile that could melt a glacier. Peas in a pod and, according to Soap, often partners in pranking crimes. All Ghost can see is warmth and light—pouring from her, from Johnny, from the home that was never riddled with suffering and people whose lives were never cut short by an evil too insidious to anticipate.

When Emma pulls back from Johnny, she keeps her hand curled around his bicep as she turns the full power of her warm gaze on Ghost.

"And Simon—may I call ye Simon?" Emma asks.

"Yeah," Ghost replies before clearing his throat and adding, "Hello, Mrs. MacTavish."

The smile she gives him sends a shock of pain through his chest even as a flood of comfort flows in behind to sooth the ache.

It's kind. Compassionate.

Motherly.

And it's directed at him.

It gets worse—or better?—when she reaches out to gently clasp his bicep too, connecting the three of them in a circle of touch. As if he's somehow a part of this world. As if he deserves a second chance at family despite dooming his own. The connection is both suffocating and freeing, as if he's taking his first breath of fresh air in years all while a boulder crushes his chest.

She squeezes his arm, and her smile widens into something familiar. Maybe a bit teasing, too.

"Call me Emma, love. I'm so glad yer here. Both of ye. Now, come in out of the cold, will ye? My bones are already aching."

Ghost flounders as the onslaught of pain and comfort slices straight through the layers of armor he's built up through the years, exposing his soft insides.

He wants to fall into the touch.

He wants to run away.

He meets Johnny's gaze, and the softness and understanding he finds there is a balm to his spiraling emotions. Despite everything inside screaming at him to shut down, to not let anyone else into that secret part of him that Johnny breached with the ease of a demolitions expert, Ghost is helpless to do anything but follow Emma inside.

For the first time since he lost his family, he dares to let himself hope.

-

Hours later, Johnny pulls Ghost into bed with a gentle hum, guiding his head to rest on his chest. The heavy thud under Ghost's ear is like scissors to a puppet's strings, snipping the tension away and leaving him boneless and overwhelmed.

"Alright?" Johnny murmurs in his ear before pressing a gentle kiss to the side of his head.

"Not made of glass," Ghost grumbles.

Johnny knows him too well to take him seriously, even now. "Nae, yer made of sterner stuff. Gunpowder, madness, and pure spite."

"Spite can be motivatin'. Just ask any of the rookies who've had me for drills."

Johnny hums a laugh, and Ghost presses his ear harder into Johnny's chest to catch every vibration. Fingers trail through his hair, and he sighs.

"How shite was that, scale of one to ten?"

"What?" Johnny mumbles, his lips once again pressed to the side of Ghost's head.

"How bad an impression did I make?"

A hand grasps his hair to gently tip his head up. Their eyes meet, and the genuine confusion in Johnny's expression gives Ghost hope.

That he didn't fuck everything up. That Johnny's family won't try to convince him to stay away from Ghost.

"Mam was absolutely charmed, Ghost. I think she'd adopt ye on the spot if she could."

Ghost blinks. He replays the evening in his head—from the homemade dinner to the impromptu after-dinner sing-along between Johnny and his niblings to the softer conversation between the adults once the children had crashed. He can't think of anything he did to warrant such a reaction. In fact he barely talked at all, content to let Johnny answer questions for both of them and only interjecting when someone spoke to him directly, which happened rarely enough that Ghost was positive Johnny had asked them to make allowances for him. He both hated and loved it—hated that it made him feel weak, like he couldn't handle himself or his emotions, but loved that Johnny was clearly thinking about him and ensuring he would be as comfortable as possible.

He doesn't deserve it. Doesn't deserve Johnny at all if he's being honest with himself. The man is too good—all righteous fire and burning passion. But with that honesty comes the acknowledgment that he's far too selfish to ever give Johnny up.

At this thought, a faint memory surfaces of Emma's soft look when Ghost wrapped his arm around Johnny's shoulders as they settled on the couch. It's how they always sit when on leave because they can't risk it on base. Ghost loves the feeling of their bodies melding together, a line of heat at his side and Johnny close enough for Ghost to mumble inappropriate comments, bad jokes, and blush-inducing innuendo into Johnny's ear.

Apparently Emma MacTavish thinks it's a good thing, too.

"Well. Good then?"

Johnny hums another laugh, making Ghost's cheek buzz. "It is good, love. Very good." He tightens his arm around Ghost's shoulders. "Thank ye for coming with me."

Ghost swallows. Despite their solid relationship status, they haven't exchanged more than joking admissions of their mutual attraction. He feels the lack all the more as the worst of his holiday malaise falls away in the face of so much care and affection. Something wiggles loose in his chest, a sensation of free falling as his lips form words he hasn't said since before Roba took his family from him.

"Thought you woulda figured out by now that you've got me wrapped around that trigger finger of yours." He swallows. Takes a shaking breath. "You're the only thing alive in this world that I love."

Johnny stills under him. Even his chest is unmoving, breaths locked up with a quick inhale.

And then it all comes out in a rush.

"Simon... d'ye mean tha'?"

And though it means losing the comforting thud of Johnny's heart in his ear, Ghost answers by leaning up, gripping Johnny's chin with his fingers, and pressing a soft kiss to slack lips. When he pulls back, Johnny is staring at him, tears welling in his blue eyes and a wide grin replacing his shocked expression.

"Love ye, too, ye big bastart," Johnny whispers before diving in for another kiss.

And maybe it's not perfect in an objective sense. Maybe he still misses his family and what could have been. But in this moment—with this man and his gracious family who went out of their way to make him feel welcome—it's the closest to perfection he's ever been.

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

*NSFW* I'll keep you warm (Yandere!Lynx Shifter X GN!Reader)

CW: Intense temperature exposure , Yandere behavior, dub-con, dead dove, imprisonment/abduction

Inspired by @lonelyafacy 's monster suggestion ❤️

Mother Nature was a cruel and indifferent witch, unforgiving towards those foolish enough to tread her wilderness. (Reader) smacked their dying flashlight, becoming numb to the harsh winter cold through their snowsuit.

The weather had turned for the worse, changing from a snowy winter's day into a blizzard that lasted into the night, separating (Reader) from their group. Their lips were stuck together with frozen blood, and their eyes could barley stay open. The snow coming down was deceptively sharp, nicking their cheeks above the slipping scarf and turning their skin into fragile paper.

Although they pushed on, trying to use the stars amongst the flurry of white as their guide, their limbs were losing their feeling, and (Reader) was beginning to wonder if it was worth the battle. The flashlight flickered again as though it could hear their thoughts. (Reader's) knees buckled, causing them to collapse by the base of a tree. They pulled their limbs in under their body, and fell unconscious, incapable of keeping themselves awake through the cold.

Am I dead?

(Reader) smelled something cooking before they realized they felt warmth. They hadn't been anywhere near civilization, so the first semi coherent thought they had was that they had died and this was heaven. Until their muscles began twitching in pain. A large hand pressed (Reader) back into a mound of furs when they forced themselves to move. The hand was warm and strong, even through the blankets (Reader) could feel it.

"Sleep." A gravelly voice commanded.

(Reader) kept their eyes closed, face mostly buried in the cloud like bedding. "Where am I?"

"My home. I found you outside." The unknown man responded while moving around the home, floorboards creaking under his weight. "Sleep more. It'll hurt less." His sentences were short and curt, but (Reader) didn't mind. Whoever he was had saved their life, so he couldn't be too bad of a person. (Reader) fell asleep again.

After thirteen hours (Reader) woke up and was able to sit up without pain, still feeling exhausted despite sleeping for such a long time. Their stomach hurt from hunger. "Hello?" They called out for whoever had rescued them.

A giant entered into view, wearing a hood that obscured his face from (Reader). He held out a wooden bowl filled with some kind of stew. "Can you eat?"

(Reader) reached out from the blankets, immediately going into shock when they saw their own naked arms. "Where are my clothes?"

"Drying. You think I'd put you sopping wet in my bed?"

Embarrassed, (Reader) turned red, ashamed for doubting their hero for even a second. They grabbed the bowl, thanking the man quietly.

"The blizzard has gotten worse. Even I can't leave right now. Once the storm has passed I'll point you in the direction you need to go. Until then, stay warm. Heal up."

"...Thank you."

"You already said that."

"That was for the food. Thank you for saving me."

Although he had his back turned to (Reader) they could see him tense under their words. (Reader) assumed he was uncomfortable with their presence, based on how he kept his face hidden. "My name is (Reader)."

"You don't need to know my name." The man's response was almost panicked, growling as he stormed out of the room.

(Reader) was left upset over the fact that they seemed to anger their savior. He must be anti social..

They finished the bowl of stew and waited under the fur blankets, unable to take care of their dish without walking around in the nude. After some time he returned, taking the bowl without a word, his hand seemed huge in comparison to (Reader's).

"Thank you." They smiled up politely, hoping he was looking. The man shuddered again, hurrying away with the bowl. (Reader) cleared their throat. "Are my clothes dry yet?"

"Your jacket was frozen solid when I found you. It took a few hours just to thaw. Everything is still damp."

"Why were you outside in this weather?"

"I was on my way back from some last minute hunting and gathering."

"Ah, I see. Thank you. Again."

"There is no need to thank me." His body seemed to relax. (Reader) smiled, hoping that this meant they were wearing him down.

"You saved my life. I got separated from my friends and couldn't find my way in the dark. I would have died out there if it wasn't for you." (Reader) spoke as sincerely as they could. "You're my hero."

He took a deep breath. "I have... lived alone for a very long time. No one knows that I am here. I almost... left you, when I found you."

(Reader's) heart grew heavy with guilt. "I promise I won't tell anyone about you." They briefly imagined that under his cloak was a kind of Quasimodo esque being, who risked his identity to save them.

Even without seeing his face the man seemed surprised, turning to (Reader) and staring from under his hood.

"Cain."

(Reader) gave a large toothy grin. "It's nice to meet you, Cain."

They sat together in a strangely comfortable silence, before a gurgle reminded (Reader) that, unfortunately, they were still human. "Do you have a restroom?"

His relaxed demeanor stiffened again. "It is.. down the hall." He quickly handed an oversized shirt to (Reader) before turning his back for privacy, and pointes in the direction of the facilities.

(Reader) threw the shirt on without thinking too much about it, and painfully hopped to the toilet. The building was a cozy little cabin, (Reader) was just now realizing, with pictures hung up on the wall of a family. They wondered if it was Cain's family. But the need to go was stronger than their curiosity.

They collapsed onto the toilet before realizing that there was an odd smell in the bathroom. It wasn't the normal bad stench of a toiletries, but it smelled rotten.

In the corner of the room was a pile of clothes, and other than that the restroom seemed to be empty, with nothing that could be causing such a smell standing out to (Reader). (Reader) didn't want to be snoopy, but... They finished hurriedly, praying that Cain couldn't hear them, and picked up the clothing. The clothes were heavy, torn into shreds and soaked in old, dried blood. A chill ran down (Reader's) spine. Cain didn't want anyone to know he was here. He considered leaving me to die to keep that secret.

How far could I make it in just a shirt?

They left the restroom, trying their best to appear normal. The family on the walls taunted them. Did the blood belong to one of them?

Cain sat by the fire, still hiding under his cloak. Next to him was (Reader's) clothes, hung up on the back of a chair. Maybe I'm just jumping to conclusions. (Reader) sighed, placing a hand on their heart to muffle it's pounding. He still saved me.

(Reader) touched their shirt, feeling the warm dampness and was relieved, because it meant Cain hadn't been lying about that at least. "How long do you think this storm will last?"

"Hopefully just the night. It could last up to a week though."

They shivered at the thought. "Do you have a couch I can sleep on? I wouldn't want to take your bed. Again."

"You can take the bed."

"I'm really fine-"

"Take the bed."

(Reader) could feel the adrenaline shoot to the tips of their toes. "O-okay." Although there was a smile on their face, the previous comfort they felt around Cain was dead. They had trusted him so much simply because he rescued them that they had forgotten that Cain was still a stranger.

Cain grabbed (Reader's) wrist as they passed, his hand engulfing their forearm with his inhumanly large mits. The air became heavy, and (Reader) could feel their arm sweating in his strong grasp.

"Your hand smells like blood."

Frightened, (Reader) smacked at Cain with their free hand, knocking his hood back. Although his face looked only a few years older than (Reader) his shaggy hair was a light grey, and atop his head were two pointed ears, pressed back against his scalp. If it weren't for the coloration, (Reader) CO m wouldn't have noticed the ears at all with how flatly they laid against his head. Shocked, he released (Reader's) arm, giving them enough time bolt out the front door, back into the blizzard.

Snowflakes pierced their skin as they ran, and the warmth they had gained in the cabin was gone the moment they left it's protective embrace, robbed by the harsh environment. Barefoot, (Reader) ran in a random direction, not capable of rational thought. With fight, flight, or freeze, they learned in that moment what kind of person they were.

Between the clouds masking the stars and the onslaught of snow, (Reader) was left completely blind. Without any clothes it felt like their muscles were shredding in their legs. (Reader's) legs gave out much more easily than they had the first time.

(Reader) could barely hear Cain's footsteps above the roar of the wind. Through the trees a large grey monster stalked into view, walking on its hind legs like a man, it's terrifying size was more reminiscent of a bear's. It's ears were flattened, and there was an almost human like expression of disappointment on its face.

"What were you thinking, running off into the woods?" It's voice was hoarse, but it was recognizably Cain's.

As he approached his fur receded, shrinking back down into his more human form, still with animal ears, now naked in the snow. He bent over (Reader's) violently shivering form as they crumbled.

"Did you forget that there was a storm?"

(Reader's) eyes stung as they tried to cry. "Please don't kill me." They weakly pleaded.

"Why would I save you, only to kill you later?" His warm breath thawed (Reader's) cheek. "You were unconscious for a long time when I found you. I thought you were dead. Unlike myself, you needed shelter suitable for a human. So I took one. I didn't have time to clean up everything. I needed to bring back everything I had caught to begin preparing a meal for when you awoke and making it comfortable for when I would eventually make you mine, so I was hoping that you would understand. That I killed them for you."

Cain's hot tongue licked (Reader's) cheek, the juxtaposition between the extreme cold and his sudden warmth made their skin feel like it was being torn off. (Reader) gasped out in pain, too cold to scream.

"I really did almost leave you in the snow. Because what if you left? Found out what I was and told the other humans? But look at you... Were you even conscious when you begged me to save you? Or was that your body acting on its own?" Cain got onto his knees, his skin searing (Reader's) flesh. His fingers digging into their shoulders felt like flames dancing across their body. Each touch from Cain burned. It was neither comforting nor pleasant.

"Ah, but now you're nearly frozen, yet again. Do you want me to warm you up?" Everytime Cain shifted his weight above (Reader), they were exposed to the blistering wind. As the parts of them hidden under Cain's body warmed up in his unnatural heat, the more excruciating the exposure to the outside was.

Tears melted (Reader's) fragile eyes. "Please, warm me up, Cain." Their primitive need for survival made (Reader) beg like a pathetic coward.

The loving smile on Cain's face was brief, before his face began shifting, becoming the humanoid monster he was moments earlier. Dwarfing the terrified human, he ran his rough tongue across their cold body, purposely allowing their body to freeze without his touch before warming (Reader) back up. He relished in the needy whimpers escaping (Reader's) lips as they suffered in the deadly temperature. (Reader) grasped at Cain's fur, trying to pull him in to steal his heat.

Clawed paws grabbed (Reader's) thighs, pressing their knees to their head uncomfortably. (Reader's) eyes widened in horror as Cain revealed his cock, resting it across their exposed bottom. They didn't have time to protest before their body was folded into a mating press, no preparation for their tightened hole, no warning to help them relax. Cain pressed his tip to the opening, and snapped his hips into (Reader's), thrusting in his entire member without lubricant.

Cain's dick was already hot, but with the added pain of the sudden insertion it was like being fucked by an iron poker. The scream (Reader) couldn't find earlier now ripped through their throat, the sound of their agony drowned out by the howling wind.

(Reader) pushed Cain away in surprise, but immediately regretted the action when he playfully leaned back, allowing (Reader's) chest to be assaulted by the snow and hail pelting them from all sides. They pulled him back, cringing at how Cain chuckled in their ear.

He fucked them in the snow, pressing deep into their gut painfully, and humiliating (Reader) further by licking away their tears as they sobbed under his body, incapable of pushing him away. Cain could stop at any moment, but the threat of frost bite kept (Reader) latching onto him, begging him not to let go. Their desperate cries only encouraged Cain to continue teasing them, watching with glee as their skin chapped and bled without his touch.

"It hurts..." (Reader) moaned as they pulled him in deeper.

"If you keep whining like that you'll only make me cum faster." Cain threatened, biting (Reader's) neck to hold in a gasp when they tightened around him. Their knees smacked into their temples as his pace sped up, his twitching cock threatening to release deep inside (Reader).

"No! Don't cum inside me!" (Reader) blubbered into the monster's fur.

(Reader) felt a wave of heat blast inside them as Cain pumped his thick load into their raw hole. As they wept loudly Cain continued happily smacking his wet pelvis into his beloved's, just the action of fucking his seed into them turning him on again.

Cain was already planning their futures together, as (Reader) imagined their death. This wouldn't be so bad, fucking (Reader) like this; purposefully keeping them needy so they clung to him like they wanted it.

Maybe one day, (Reader) would love him in the same way as Cain loved them, and would beg Cain to make love to them, but for now, he was content fucking them like a desperate, wild animal.

Blood from the wind burns and from the tearing from rough sex stained the white white under their bodies. Cain turned back into a human so he could kiss (Reader) passionately, taste their mouth salty from their tears.

"Let's go home, (Reader)."

[slaybestieslay946]

Everything About You - Luke Castellan

Summary: You've been Luke Castellan's closest friend ever since he arrived at camp, but unbeknownst to you, he's been desperately crushing on you this whole time. And of course, the feelings are reciprocated. In hopes of getting over you, he agrees to give it a go with someone else. Will he realise how you feel before its too late?

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Ares!Reader

Warning: Swearing

Word Count: 4.9k

a/n: uh sorry for shitting on that demeter girl sm, there needed to be some conflict somewhere

also please forgive me for this fic being crazy self-indulgent and therefore not up to par with my usual writing, i needed to express the obsession i have w this man otherwise I'd go INSANE

MASTERLIST

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You thought you knew everything about Luke Castellan. 

After 5 years of being best friends, how could you not? You knew about the big things in his life, his damaged mother, the strained relationship with his father. You understood his anger towards the gods, the way it fuelled him to be better, work harder. 

You knew about the little things too. He liked green olives, not black ones. He always stuck his leg out from under the duvet when sleeping. He sucked at tightening his armour, always convincing you to do it for him.

You could recognise each and every one of his tells. He always cracked his knuckles before sparring. He scratched the back of his neck when he was nervous. 

But the one thing you didn’t know about him was the way he felt about you. You, who was normally so observant, was entirely oblivious to the gentle touches and soft looks he threw your way. And that, more than anything, was driving him crazy. 

“You gotta tell her how you feel man.” Chris said to him, noticing the way his gaze would constantly stray to the Ares table. Your table.

Luke scoffed, “Yeah, right. I’d rather die…” 

“Yeah, well it’s driving me nuts. All this pining. It’s-”

“Pathetic? Tell me about it.” He responded, not taking his eyes off you. 

“Well, yeah. It’s pathetic. At this point, either confess your undying love, or move on.”

Luke could safely say that neither of those options sounded particularly appealing. 

“There’s that new girl, y’know the one in Demeter?” Chris continued.

“What about her?”

“She’s pretty cute, don’t you think?” 

Luke tore his gaze away from you to look at the girl Chris was on about. She was pretty, sure, with pale blond hair and flushed cheeks. He recognised her as one of the girls that would always sit in the fields and entertain the kids with her flower magic. But still, she couldn’t hold a candle to you. 

“Yeah, she’s fine I guess.” Luke responded, noncommittal.

“See, told you so! Look, how about I set you guys up-”

“No thanks.” 

“Ugh, you're no fun. Fine, just talk to the Demeter girl at the campfire tomorrow.” 

Luke opened his mouth again to refuse, but Chris cut him off. 

“And if you do, I’ll stop bugging you about it. Promise.” 

Luke looked at his pleading face, and knew that there would be no shutting him up until he agreed. 

“Fine. I’ll talk to her.” 

*

The next morning, Luke woke up earlier than normal, so he figured he might as well get some extra training in before capture the flag in the afternoon. 

He climbed out of bed as quietly as possible, not wanting to disturb his many, sleeping, half-siblings, and grabbed his sword, stepping out of the cabin into the fresh morning air. He jogged down towards the amphitheatre, and was confused for a moment when he could hear movement inside the small arena. 

Then, as he walked closer to the entrance, he realised it was you, slashing dummies left right and centre. And, gods, the sight took his breath away. 

The early morning sun shone on your face, highlighting your sharp features. You moved like a dancer, and the sword in your hand was merely an extension of your body. Yes, they called him the best swordsman in the last 300 years, but his technique couldn’t compare to the grace of the favourite daughter of Ares. 

He watched you for a few more minutes, standing just in the entrance to the amphitheatre, until he realised it might be a little creepy to stand there and watch you, so he decided to make himself known. 

“What are you doing up so early?” He called out, striding forwards towards you. 

You quickly spun around, a shocked expression on your face that softened into a fond smile when you realised it was just Luke who had snuck up on you. 

“Oh, y’know, just preparing to beat your ass later on.”

“Aw, really? Hate to break it to you, but you don’t stand a chance.” 

“Wanna test that, soldier?” You smirked, gesturing to the sword in this hand.

Luke laughed, stabbing the sword into the sandy floor and cracking his knuckles, meanwhile you took up an offensive stance. 

And, as soon as he picked up his sword, you were on him, ruthlessly slashing through the air, and he barely had enough time to block the blow before you sliced through his face. He returned your strikes with equal vigour, moving with the precision and technique that he was so famous for. 

With the way the pair of you fought, anyone would think you hated one another, trading blow for violent blow, both of you refusing to hold back. 

Of course, it was the complete opposite, but that had never stopped the pair of you from sparring so aggressively. 

The session went on for close to half an hour, neither of you wanting to surrender to the other. Eventually you were bested, as Luke sent your sword flying from your hand, holding his own up to your throat. 

You held your hands up in defeat, rolling your eyes at him, before moving to sit down at the edge of the arena. 

“I’m still gonna win in capture the flag today.” You remarked, your voice strained from physical exercise, but jovial nonetheless. 

“As talented as you are,” He responded, sitting down next to you, “You're not gonna be able to beat Annie’s new strategy.” 

“And what might that be?” You said, shuffling closer to the boy. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He teased. 

You pretended to sulk at that, turning your body away from him in the process. Luke frowned, pulling your arm to turn you to face him again. 

“Don’t be sad. Even if I told you you still wouldn’t win.” 

“Whatever. Asshole.” You mumbled. 

“What did you call me?” He asked, accusatory, and you quickly made your escape, running out of the amphitheatre to avoid his wrath. 

But, of course, he managed to catch up with you easily, slinging an arm around your shoulders as you walked. 

Somehow, you both telepathically communicated a need for breakfast, and your feet naturally led you both to the pavilion. 

“I’ll see you later on, yeah?” You asked, detaching yourself from him to look him in the eyes. 

“Mhm. Can’t wait to kick your ass.”

You laughed, cocking your head at him, “Why are you thinking about my ass Castellan? Bit weird.” 

And then you were striding away towards Clarisse, leaving the Hermes cabin counsellor frozen, a faint blush covering his face. 

Maybe Chris was right. His addiction to you was getting slightly out of hand. 

*

“That boy is so obsessed with you.” Clarisse muttered, her voice derisive as you sat down opposite her. 

“Who? Luke?”

“Who else?” 

“Nah, no way.” You responded, chuckling as you grabbed a slice of toast from the centre of the table. 

Clarisse rolled her eyes. How oblivious could you be?

“Whatever. As long as your little romance doesn’t get in the way this afternoon.” 

“No chance. Besides, there is no romance. Gods, you’re just as bad as Silena!” You laughed, slightly sheepishly. 

“Rude. But still, she’s right about these things like 90% of the time.”

Silena had been trying to get you to admit that you liked Luke for months, but each time she brought it up you would staunchly deny it. Of course, you were lying through your teeth, but it’s not like you could just admit something like that. It would open up a whole can of worms that you didn’t need. 

“Yeah, well this is the 10% then.” You shrugged, taking another bite of your toast.

“You’re impossible.”

“Aw, don’t be like that. You know I’m your favourite sibling.” 

“You were my favourite. I don’t know anymore.” 

“Bitch.”  

*

When Ares and Hermes were on opposing teams, suddenly capture the flag became even more serious. 

Ares, of course, was the warrior cabin. Their father was the god of war, making them the most feared in combat. And, most of Camp half-blood was scared shitless of you and Clarisse.

Then there was Hermes, and their automatic alliance with Athena. That meant they had Luke, the camp's star swordsman, and Annabeth and her siblings, who always came up with the best strategies. 

It was safe to say that when they weren’t competing against each other, it was painfully boring. 

You only had about half an hour before the game started, so after you had secured your armour and recovered your sword from the amphitheatre, you decided to seek out Annabeth, both because you enjoyed her company, and because she may spill something about her new strategy. 

“Hey, Annabeth!” You called out, and the young girl spun around to give you a little smile. 

“Hey. What’s up?”

“Nothing. Just wanted to see how things are going over here, y’know, scope out the competition.”

“I’m not gonna tell you our strategy.” She deadpanned. 

“Damnit. Oh well. What’ve you been up to, I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.” 

It was true, you hadn’t spoken to Annabeth for a few days, nor had you even seen her.

“She’s been too busy stalking the new kid.” Luke’s voice interjected and he stepped out of seemingly nowhere to pat the girl's head. 

“Shut up! No I haven’t.” She sulked, pushing him off of her. 

“Wait, which new kid is this? Percy?” You asked. 

You’d seen Luke show the boy around camp. You’d been briefly introduced, but you hadn’t spoken to him all that much. The only other thing you knew about him was that Clarisse had a bit of an issue with him. Well, she had an issue with a lot of people, so that wasn’t exactly new. 

“Yep. Can you believe it? My little sister has a crush!” Luke exclaimed, holding a hand to his chest. 

Annabeth then gave him a small shove, before something clearly occurred to her, and she gave him that look that meant she had something on him. And whatever the blackmail was, it worked as he immediately held his hands up in surrender. 

“Sorry, sorry! You could never like a boy, I know that!”

Annabeth didn’t respond, simply glaring at him whilst you laughed. Sometimes, she really was intimidating. Despite being only 12 years old, she had a stare harsher than medusa. 

“Anyway. You need to get going, otherwise you're definitely gonna lose.” Luke said, pushing you away by your breastplate. 

“Fine.” You said, and were about to walk away when you noticed his own armour, as usual, wasn't done up properly. 

You walked back towards him, sighing, and grabbed the straps on either side of his body, pulling them taut, doing the same for the guards on his forearms. 

“You seriously need to learn how to do these yourself, soldier. One day, I might not be here to do them for you.”

“That’s not true. You’ll always be with me.” He whispered, more hopeful than certain about his statement.

You just rolled your eyes, grabbing his helmet out of his hands to push it on his head. 

“There. Can’t have someone hurting your pretty face, can we?”

“Uh-”

“Bye, have fun losing!” You laughed, and then you were walking away, once again leaving a malfunctioning Luke in your wake. 

“And you say I have a crush.” Annabeth snorted. 

“Shut up.” 

*

Pretty much as soon as you made it back to your team, the conch sounded, and Clarisse shouted at you to ‘get your ass over here’. 

She then quickly outlined her plan to you as you both made your way deeper into the woods, the rest of your team splitting off at different points as you went. 

You two, as well as a few others, were to be on the offensive, searching for the flag, meanwhile the rest of your team were either guarding the flag, or serving as distractions. It was a pretty typical strategy, but it had every chance of working, as long as you two were able to work out roughly where the other team's flag was. 

“Well, I’m pretty sure it won’t be at Zeus’ fist this time, that’s where Annabeth put it last time, and apparently she has a new strategy.” 

“She could be lying to you?”

“Yeah, I guess. But it’s a place to start.” Clarisse reluctantly agreed, and the two of you moved further into the woods. 

Along the way you came across a few of the blue team on border patrol, and the pair of you quickly disarmed them, you with your sword, and Clarisse with her electric staff. 

You made your way down to the south edge of the woods, and it appeared that the number of blue troops were decreasing. Normally you would take that as meaning the flag wasn’t this way, but knowing Annabeth that could be some kind of purposeful bluff, so you kept going, until eventually you reached a dead end and had to choose a different direction. 

“Ugh, the others better be closer than us I swear. I’m not losing again.” Your sibling said, batting aside a tree branch with her crackling staff. 

“Yeah. I’m sick of having to listen to Castellan gloat.” You sighed, although the noise was more fond than anything else. 

Clarisse rolled her eyes at your inability to keep him out of a conversation. 

Then, there was a sudden noise of people crashing through the trees. You both raised your weapons, ready to defend yourselves, when you realised that they wore red helmets and were in fact, your siblings. 

“Oi, Clarisse, we heard some of them talking that they’ve got the flag down at the creek! And that brat Jackson’s guarding it!”

You noticed the way Clarisse’s eyes filled with anger (and a little bloodlust). 

“You keep going,” She said, “I’ll check it out with them.” She then patted you on the back and spun around, sprinting off into the woods. 

“DUMBASS! IT’S PROBABLY A TRAP!” You yelled, cupping your free hand to your mouth, but either she didn’t hear you, or she didn’t care, because she gave no response. 

You sighed, unable to believe how gullible your sister could be sometimes. But, you had nothing better to do than keep searching for the flag, so you kept walking, slashing through the undergrowth with your sword as you went.  

Eventually you felt like you had covered the entire forest, and at a certain point you weren’t entirely sure if you were still in enemy territory or not. 

That was until Luke Castellan burst into the clearing holding your flag. 

“Fancy seeing you here.” He smirked. 

“Asshole.” You snapped, immediately leaping at him, sword in hand, just as you had during sparring that morning. God he loved your temper. 

You then began to battle one another with even more zeal than earlier, your slashes quicker and your blows harder as you moved. It was strange the way you two sparred, it was like as soon as you were in combat you forgot that he was your closest friend and that you would die for him in a heartbeat. Instead all you could think about was winning. 

He was so annoyingly graceful as he moved, each swish of his sword perfectly calculated to hit at a certain spot, each block and parry almost perfectly executed. 

Of course, your anger at his flawless technique was only further intensified when you realised that one: he didn’t have a shield, and two: he was holding his sword in his non-dominant hand, with the flag in his dominant one. 

You ground your teeth at that. How could you expect to ever beat him if he held his own so easily? Whenever you watched Luke Castellan fight, you couldn’t help but wonder how he was a son of Hermes, and not a son of Athena or Ares.

And, as always, he defeated you eventually. 

He threw a blow at you that you couldn’t quite block, and the force of it sent you toppling backwards, and landing on your ass. He quickly lunged down too, pinning you to the floor and holding his sword to your throat, so close that it almost broke skin. 

“Do you surrender?” He asked, grinning smugly down at you, and you couldn’t help but notice just how close his face was to yours. 

“Never.” You spat, furrowing your eyebrows at him. 

He sighed fondly, before moving upwards to press a quick kiss to your forehead and saying, “You’re so cute, y’know that?” 

Now it was your turn to be left malfunctioning, your face bright red with astonishment as he leapt off of you, and ran away into the forest, leaving you behind, on the floor, and completely and utterly frozen. 

And then you came back to your senses, pushing yourself off the floor and chasing after him. 

“LUKE CASTELLAN, YOU MOTHERFUCKER!” You screamed, sprinting through the woods as fast as you could, but you knew there was nothing you could do to catch up, and you could faintly hear him laughing as those stupid long legs carried him over into friendly territory. 

*

It appeared that a lot had happened during that game of capture the flag. 

Luke had gotten your flag, and was about to go over and taunt Clarisse about it, but he immediately saw that she was even angrier than usual, and seemed genuinely upset. 

He quickly went over to ask Annabeth what was going on, watching as you ran over to console her. 

“Percy broke her staff.” She said, pointing to the shattered piece of wood in Clarisse’s right hand. 

Luke winced. He knew how precious the girl was about that staff; it was the only token she had from her father. He was surprised Percy was even still breathing right now. 

“Wait, where is Percy?” Luke asked.

“With Chiron. He got claimed.”

“What? By who-?”

“Posiedon.”

The boy’s jaw dropped. 

“You’re joking. No fucking way.”

“Tell me about it. He could be the one, Luke.” The younger girl said, her voice quiet and hopeful. 

“Hm. He could be. Don’t get your hopes up too high though, yeah?” 

Annabeth sighed, but nodded nonetheless. 

Luke then gave her a quick pat on the shoulder, before beginning to walk away, intending to get a shower in before dinner, but Annabeth quickly stopped him in his tracks. 

“Where are you going? It’s dinner, silly!” 

“What, no it’s not-” 

“Yes, it is. Campfire tonight, remember? Early dinner? C’mon, you’ve only been here for what, five years?” 

Luke groaned, and suddenly all the adrenaline from Percy being claimed, and from winning capture the flag melted away, as he remembered the deal he had made with Chris the night before. 

He traipsed behind the daughter of Athena on the way to the dining pavilion, suddenly dreading the rest of the evening. 

As the pair entered the building, a cheer went up from the Hermes and Athena table, a few of their respective siblings rushing over to give them pats on the back and congratulations for their efforts. 

Luke laughed along with them, eventually being dragged away from his sister to his own table. 

Then dinner began, and it was as loud and raucous as usual, maybe even more so coming off the back of a capture the flag victory. But Luke was unusually quiet, pushing his food around his plate and taking the odd sullen bite. He could feel Chris’ eyes on him, probably pissed off he was sulking again, but he didn’t really care. 

He could also feel another gaze on him, and he looked up, expecting it to be you, giving him a feeble glare or mouthing some stupid insult. But instead it was the girl from the Demeter table, twisting a lock of hair around her finger and smiling sweetly at him. 

The boy felt slightly disappointed, but masked it with a grin of his own, winking at the girl before returning to his food. 

He felt that strange sinking feeling in his stomach as he continued to eat, but decided to push it away. What choice did he have? It’s not like you’d ever reciprocate his feelings, so maybe Chris was right and he should give someone else a chance. Besides, how bad could it be?

*

As it turned out, it could be really bad. 

Ok, maybe that was an overstatement. Really boring was probably more accurate. 

As soon as they got to the campfire, Chris disappeared, but not before practically shoving Luke down beside the girl from Demeter, who let out a high-pitched giggle as he fell into her slightly. 

And gods he wished he hadn’t agreed to his friends stupid plan. Because he then had to spend the rest of the evening being obnoxiously flirted with. And sure, she was nice, and quite pretty, but not in the way that mattered. 

She didn’t take his breath away like you did. He couldn’t imagine searching for her face in a crowd. The whole thing was just dull. 

And her laughter was grating. Really grating. There was no way she thought he was that funny, especially when he was giving mostly one word responses. 

They had nothing in common. She liked lounging about in fields, playing games and making flower crowns, whereas Luke couldn’t think of anything worse. He’d much rather spend an afternoon sparring, or at archery, or even swimming in the lake. 

All the things you liked to do. 

He tried to push the thought to the back of his mind. He shouldn’t be thinking about you, not whilst another girl was clamouring for his attention. It was cruel. But he couldn’t help himself. 

And eventually he gave in, switching off from the conversation and settling for observing you through the flames. 

Your hair was down right now, like it only ever was at dinners and in the early morning. You lounged back comfortably on the benches, smiling lazily and joking around with Clarisse and Silena. Your face was lit up by the flickering flames, complimenting you so well, like they just wanted to be near you, close to you. He couldn’t blame them. 

And then your eyes met his across the fire, and he thought his heart was about to combust with the way you smiled at him. He recognised that smile. It was the one you reserved just for him. 

At that moment he steeled his resolve to reject this Demeter girl, grab on to you and never let go. 

But as he was about to do just that, he felt a slender hand wrap around his bicep, and he turned to the blonde girl next to him. And without any warning, she reached up and kissed him, snaking her arms up and around his neck. 

He pulled away after a second, shock written all over his face. He quickly whipped around, looking to see if you saw that, praying that you hadn’t. 

But you had. And you seemed just as shocked as he was, except there was something else in your eyes. Hurt.

Why were you hurt?

*

As you walked away from the campfire, you couldn’t help but ask yourself the same question. Why were you so hurt?

You had known for years that your pathetic crush on Luke would never amount to anything. He was just way out of your league. Perfect in every way. 

He was so smart, and kind, and funny, and well-liked, and you just couldn’t compete with that. You were rough, and mean, and cruel, and angry. Why would he love someone like you? 

 Of course, you hadn’t seen the daughter of Demeter coming. But maybe you should’ve. She was everything Luke should want in a girl, gentle, sweet, feminine. Someone fit to be a girlfriend. 

And let's face it. You were much more skilled in matters of the sword than matters of the heart. 

You had always known this day would come. Eventually you’d have to let go of your best friend and come to terms with the fact that you weren’t the most important person in his life anymore (besides Annabeth). 

So why were you so devastated?

You reasoned that it had to be the shock. Yes, it was surprising, that’s why you were reacting like this, running away from the campfire like a child, foolishly hoping that he would come running after him, when of course he wouldn’t. He’d stay with his new girlfriend. 

“Hey!” 

You whipped around, shocked to see the very boy you were just pining after running up to you. 

“What?” You asked, snapping at him slightly, and immediately regretting it as he took on the look of a kicked puppy. 

“Why’d you run away from the campfire?” 

“Just needed some air.” 

“You sure? I mean you look kinda-”

“I’m fine! Just fine! Now you can go back to your little girlfriend and leave me alone!” You burst out, waving your hands around manically. 

He looked shocked by your sudden shouting, probably because you had only genuinely been angry with him about three times in your whole friendship. 

“Sorry. Just give me a minute, ok?” You said, your voice shuddering slightly. God it was pathetic, getting so worked up over a boy? You wanted to crawl into a hole and die. You then turned around and began to walk away, but didn’t get far before a hand grabbed yours pulling you back. 

“She’s not my girlfriend.” He said firmly.

“What?”

“She’s not my girlfriend. I don’t even really know her name.” 

He then apparently realised how that sounded, because he quickly amended his statement. 

“Not like that. What I’m trying to say is that I don’t like her like that. She just kinda grabbed me.” 

You stammered slightly, trying to regain composure. Right now you looked like a jealous loser, and while that is what you were, you didn’t want him to see you like that. 

“Ok cool. I don’t care, y’know. Kiss whoever you want, man, not my problem!” You laughed although it was painfully strained. 

“Again, not what I’m trying to say.” He said, scratching the back of his neck. Nervous. 

“So what are you-”

“I’m trying to say I’m in love with you!” He rushed out, holding you by the shoulders and staring directly into your eyes to try and get his point across. 

“What?” You whispered, once again not able to believe your ears.

“I said I’m in love with you,” He repeated, slower this time, his voice more even, “I’ve been in love with you for so long, you have no idea. I was only talking to that girl ‘cause I thought I’d never have a chance with you. But then I realised that I don’t want some other girl. I only want you.” 

You took in a sharp intake of breath, scanning his face for any sign of insincerity. 

“You’re being serious?” You asked.

“Deadly serious.” He responded immediately, smiling sheepishly. 

You paused for a minute, before whispering, “I love you too.”

Only then did he finally make his move, holding you gently by the face and bending down to kiss you. 

And it was like a piece of the puzzle finally clicked into place. It was painfully cliche, and it felt like you were in some dumb rom com, but kissing him really was like fireworks going off all over your body. 

He clearly felt the same way, holding you by the back of the head and pulling you in further, closer, like he didn’t want to be apart from him ever again. 

Eventually you both pulled away for air, and he looked at you with a smile of pure joy, until the shock of the whole situation hit him. 

“Wait, so you really mean it?”

“I mean, I did just let you kiss me, didn’t I?”

“Good point. Sorry, I’m just a little surprised.”

“Fair enough. I mean, I had no idea you felt the same way.” You laughed, all the previous tension ebbing from your body. 

“What, really?” He asked, seeming genuinely surprised. 

“Yes, really! How was I supposed to know? Besides, I didn’t think I was really your type.” 

At that his eyes practically bulged out of his head in shock, more so than any other time that night.

“Not my type? You’re entirely my type! Not like it matters anyway when you're the most perfect girl I’ve ever met in my life.” 

You frowned, “Now you're just lying to me, Luke.” 

“No I’m not. You're everything I’ve ever wanted. The only girl I’ve ever wanted.” He said firmly.

You looked at him, still slightly doubtful, but he was determined to fix that. 

So he kissed you again, and suddenly all your doubts were swept away in his strong embrace as he kissed you like it was the last thing he ever wanted to do. 

“Believe me now?”

“Yeah. And, I guess you’re pretty great too.” 

He looked at you teasingly, daring you to elaborate, and for once you decided to stroke his ego. 

“Fine. You're the most handsome, funny, charming man I’ve ever met in my life.” 

That clearly satisfied him, because a wide grin wriggled its way across his face that you couldn’t help but mirror, because you both knew you meant every word.

“So does this mean you’ll give me a chance?” 

“Yes. I’d give you a hundred chances.” 

[ameliathornromance]

"I don't know if this is a good idea." Your Orc Boyfriend told you.

"This place is fine!" You smiled at him. Gripped onto his hand, you pointed to the door of the Inn. "I already told you that they're welcoming to everyone. You'll be fine."

All around you, people stalk by, heads shrouded in cloak hoods and clutched tightly around their necks to stop the downpour of rain.

Your Orc Boyfriend grumbled as a gust of wind sent a chill down both of your spines. He looked over his shoulder, pulling the poorly fitting hood further over his face. He sighed. "Okay, let's get out of the cold then."

Beaming, you pushed open the Inn door. The two of you entered and were instantly hit with warmth. Chatter drowned out the bard who played at the very end of the tavern. But no one spared a glance at the two of you, even as your Orc Boyfriend pulled down his hood.

"Right, let's see if we can get something to eat." You mumbled. You pulled him away from the door, desperate to get further away from the cold draft that had followed you inside.

"(Y/N)? No, that's not you,"

Whipping your head around at the mention of your name, you couldn't stop your grin. "Boor? Is that you?"

"Boor?" Your Orc Boyfriend questioned, but there was no time to give an answer.

A human man, twice the size of a regular man, pushed his way through a crowd of Goblins to you. "It's been so long my friend!" He grabbed you and lifted you off the floor.

You let go of your Orc Boyfriend's hand and wrapped your arms around Boor.

Once you were let go, your boyfriend instantly pulled you into a protective grip. Hunching over you and crossing an arm over your chest protectively, your Orc Boyfriend shot a glower at the man.

Boor didn't even glance at your boyfriend, instead bending down to you, "are you well my friend?"

Sensing the tension from your partner, you placed your hand on his forearm and squeezed. "I'm good... Boor, I'd like you to meet my partner: (O/N)."

Boor finally acknowledged your boyfriend and gave him a toothy grin. "An Orc?! Amazing! I haven't seen any of you for a few years! I hope you and your kind are keeping well!"

Your Orc Boyfriend seemingly relaxed at his recognition and grunted in return. "We are well."

"Come, allow me to buy you drinks, we must catch up!"

"Actually," Your Orc cut off. "We should get a room."

"(O/N)'s right, sorry Boor." You smiled apologetically. "Maybe later, we're both freezing from travelling."

"Ah, if you must." Boor sighed, "I will see you later my friends!"

When you and your partner had been settled in a room, you both collapsed onto the bed. A fire crackled in the corner of the room, punctuating the silence.

"Who is this 'Boor' man?" Your Orc Boyfriend asked.

"Boor's a good friend of mine." You explained, "he's part man, part giant. Super friendly and kind, but not very good at reading other people." You snorted, "one time, we nearly got caught in a Drider's web because Boor said he promised to feed us. Little did we know, he was actually trying to fatten us up to eat."

"Sounds like a shit travelling companion." Your partner grumbled.

"He meant well." You rolled your eyes and smiled. Both of you returned to silence for a moment. "...Were you jealous?"

"No." Your Orc Boyfriend said too quickly. He rolled over, back facing towards you.

You could barely suppress a grin from coming over you. "You have nothing to be jealous of, I only have eyes for you." Placing a hand on his bicep, you leaned your head against the square of his back.

"..." Your partner didn't respond for a moment. Then he rolled over and scooped you up in his arms and squeezed you tightly. "Good. If it weren't for the Inn full of people, I would have beat him to death for even touching you."

You rolled your eyes and squeezed him tightly. "I'm glad you didn't. Otherwise we'd be camping outside again and I don't think that you would want to do that."

"It would be worth it if it meant protecting my partner."

Patreon

[rui-drawsbox]

guy giving himself too much credit vs girl too blunt for her own good/s

my girl was upset not bc baxter leaves her. but bc she wanted to date again and the ghost of her charming-first-boyfriend didnt leaved her alone

[alenseress]

And all things end

All that we intend is

Scrawled in sand

[subsequentibis]

it's actually just hit me that there's like... not really romance plots in dungeon meshi. they don't pair the cast off arbitrarily at the end. basically any character could be read as aroace/aspec really easily. that's honestly super cool!! it's refreshing to have a mainstream piece of media with the kind of approach to character relationships that emphasizes how important everyone's connections to each other are without making them explicitly romantic.

[azuramarigold]

Underground Dealings

You were a typical office worker that one day gets fired at your job at a smaller office ran by Naoya Zen'in, but your friend, Yuji Itadori, who works at a small coffee shop that you discovered a year ago on your way to work, suggests that you apply to his uncle's company. What you didn't realize was that your assets were going to be important to the company in every department, and that every head, from the CEO to legal has their own underground dealings on what keeps the company afloat.

Characters: officeworker!reader x CEO!Sukuna, officeworker!reader x businessassociate!Gojo, officeworker!reader x salaryman!Nanami; other pairings to be added

Other characters: Yuji Itadori, Megumi Fushiguro, Nobara Kugisaki, Naoya Zen'in, Maki Zen'in, Mai Zen'in, Uraume; other characters to be added.

Genre: modern au, eventual smut, 18+, angst, violence, gore

WARNINGS: (eventual) smut, blood, violence, gore, using weapons, death, drug use, smoking, alcohol use, cussing.

Divider/Navigation made by: saradika

Ko-Fi Commissions AO3 Profile

Prev.

Ch. 1 - Word Count: ~3.8k

Chapter 1: The Interview

The next day it was raining, and there was no point in getting up when your alarm indicated as now you didn’t have a job anymore.

            There was also no point in going to the coffee shop either as it was on your way to the office. Again, you no longer worked over there. Lying in bed, wrapped in dark cotton sheets as rain spattered against your windows was almost relaxing, but at the same time a sense of dread enveloped you.

            If you didn’t find a job soon, you’d get behind on rent. How will groceries get paid? Not to mention that student loans were still there and knocking at the door of your checking account every month. The reality was starting to set in, and your hands gripped the sheets tightly.

            Your phone began to ring, causing you to sit upright in a panic, your heart racing. Frantically, you look for your phone that you forgot was somewhere in your bed. You managed to find it just before it went to voicemail.

            “H-Hello…!?” you answered the phone breathlessly, not even bothering to see who it was.

    ��       “Is this Y/N L/N?” It was the same gravelly voice from the night before.

            You cleared your throat. “Um, yes, this is she…” you replied, trying to sound professional.

            “Is this a cellphone that you’re calling from?” the man inquired.

            “Yes.”

            “I’m going to text you the address of Ryōmen Enterprises so that you can come for a face-to-face interview today at four.”

            You blinked in surprise.

            “Is that going to be a problem, sweetheart…?” a teasing tone pressed on the other line. “The brat made it seem like you really needed-”

            “Yes! I’ll be there!” you nearly shouted into the phone. “Please text me the address!”

            A rumble of a chuckle. “Alright. Please dress professionally and bring a copy of your resume then. It’ll be a pleasure to meet you.”

            Click.

            You threw your phone back onto your bed and made your way to the bathroom, a need to get ready for this interview. Turning on the water and showerhead and preparing one of your nicer shampoos and soaps that you’d normally use on a date, but this was important!

            Throughout the night Yuji had texted you a bit about his uncle, which was odd to you as he never talked about his family except for his late grandfather. Yuji had mentioned that his uncle for years was striking deals left and right, making extra money wherever he could until in the last two years he founded his company. He even mentioned that his uncle had paid for his private high school education after his grandfather had passed and is paying for his college, but only if he did some intern work once in awhile at the office and earned some of his own way with the coffee shop.

            You tried to ask for a picture of his uncle, just to see what he looked like. All Yuji replied with was, “You’ll know it’s him when you see him… trust me.”

            In the shower you scrubbed yourself clean, making sure there was nothing out of place. Scrubbing your hair and putting in the right amount of the conditioning mask you enjoy so much. Exfoliating your skin was necessary and shaving was part of your routine as the mask deeply conditioned your hair.

            Once you were all set and rinsed, you wrapped a towel around your hair and body and made your way back to your room. The closet was organized a certain way, the left half being your business attire while the right half was your casual wear. You decided on a nice black pencil skirt and dark pastel purple blouse, you have heard comments that the blouse brought out the color of your eyes very well and the skirt curved against your hips nicely.

            Getting ready was almost nerve-wracking. What if you didn’t land this job…? Where else could you go…? Maybe the coffee shop was a good option after all…

            The final outfit was a wonderful touch of professionalism. The pencil skirt was slightly above your knees, but you were wearing sheer tights, so you didn’t show much skin. Around your neck to accent your blouse was a dandelion-colored scarf, tied into the furoshiki style. A pair of black pumps would look excellent you decided as you looked over yourself in the mirror.

            Makeup has always been simple for you, light foundation with a hint of blush. Eyeshadow to match the blouse, the wonderful pastel purple, and the black eyeliner and mascara really made your eyes pop. Pink lipstick is what you went with, subtle and innocent, as you can’t be too bold like with red.

            You put your hair up in a nice, tight bun, letting the loose hairs frame your face in subtle curls. A touch of perfume on the nape of your neck, very light as it was Eau Fraiche to not trigger a migraine, with the subtle jasmine and cedar fragrance.

            By the time it was two, you were all ready to go. You decided to make your way out the door as you did rely on public transportation to get to where you needed to go for the most part. Taking the train to the business district of Tokyo was easy this time of day as many people were starting to get off work and be on their way home, so it was no issue finding a train and seat.

            As you looked at the address, you realized that the office was actually down the street from the coffee shop that Yuji and the others worked at. Which meant if you got the job, you could still visit them. It warmed your heart that you could still see them.

            As the train stopped at the station and you got onto the platform, you realized it was barely three, so you decided that with the extra time you had you would visit the shop. They did close at four as you knew that Megumi and Nobara had to get home, Yuji never specified where he went, but now you assumed it was to work a couple of hours as an intern at his uncle’s company.

            The bell chimed as you entered the coffee shop, Megumi wiping down tables as Nobara manned the counter. Both looked up and saw you and gave smiles.

            “OH MY GOSH!” Nobara squealed as she vaulted over the counter. “YOU LOOK AMAZING! YOU ARE GOING TO GET THE JOB ON THIS ALONE!”

            Megumi grimaced at the loudness of Nobara’s voice. “Hey, she still needs to do a proper interview… it’s not about looks…” he reminded her.

            You gave a sigh, “Yeah, and I’m totally nervous… I think I only got the job with your cousin because he kept staring at my chest for too long and forgot what it was even about…”

            Megumi gave a frown. “That asshole…” he grumbled.

            You looked around, noticing that you did not hear or see Yuji. “Hey, where’s Yuji at?” you asked.

            “At his uncle’s office building, it’s just down the street from here,” Nobara replied, crossing her arms. “He leaves around 2:30pm to go intern there for a few hours.”

            Your guess was correct. “What is his major in college anyways…?” you then asked. During the year you visited the coffee shop you had never asked, which made you feel a tad bit guilty. Yuji always asked you so many questions, as did Nobara, and even Megumi asked a question here and there, but you never asked them any.

            “Business,” both Megumi and Nobara replied in unison.

            “He’s got a scholarship at a decent university for athletics,” Megumi then added. “But he’s majoring in business to properly take over the coffee shop here and possibly franchise it.”

            “Oh, that’s nice,” you hummed. You had no idea about that with Yuji. The young man had such a bubbly personality that you never thought he’d be a business major in college. You then gave a smile. “Well, if I get this job, I can still come for my coffee…! Speaking of…”

            “GOT IT!” Nobara shouted as she vaulted over the counter once again.

            Megumi frowned. “You and Yuji need to stop doing that… you two are going to end up crashing into something one day…” he groaned in annoyance.

            “You’re just jealous that you don’t look cool doing it!” Nobara bragged, sticking her tongue out at him. Withing minutes she got your usual coffee order ready. “And it’s done, Y/N! Feel free to tip me for my awesome service!”

            You gave a laugh as you paid for the coffee and once again gave a decent tip. “Of course, Nobara, I wouldn’t dream of not giving you a tip,” you assured her.

            “My tip would be to stop vaulting over the damn counter…!” Megumi told you both.

            You checked your watch, realizing it was half an hour before your interview. You gave the two your goodbyes and made your way out of the shop. Sipping on your coffee as you walked down the street, already seeing a tall, glass building that was beginning to loom before you. The sign outside the building indicated that it was “Ryōmen Enterprises”, so you knew it was the right place.

            You took a deep breath, calming your nerves, and made your way inside, your pumps clicking against the polished floors. Inside there was a nice, muted gray, chairs and couches around the main floor for people to relax in before meetings or to meet with someone. The reception desk was directly ahead of the entrance, and you made your way there quickly.

            The person behind the desk was clicking on her keyboard, her hair long and dark brown. She wore a simple dark green turtleneck blouse with a white long sleeve sweater, her nails a nice teal in color. Her eyes, a nice brown oak, darted to you as she finished what she was doing.

            “Hello, how can I help you?” she then asked. You noted that there were bags under her eyes, and she had a small beauty mark on her right eye.

            “Hello, my name is Y/N L/N, I have an interview at-” you began but she interrupted you by picking up her phone.

            “Hey, Uraume?” the woman spoke. “Yeah, this is Shoko… that interview you mentioned is here.” A pause. “Yeah, I know she’s early…” Another pause and Shoko winced at a sudden bark on the other side of the line. “Yeah, I’ll send her up.” She hung up the phone.

            “Uh…” you tentatively murmured. “Is it bad that I’m early…?” you asked softly.

            “Not at all, hun,” Shoko replied as she prepared a guest badge. “Take this to the elevator and scan it to access the top floor.”

            You took the guest badge. “Thank you…” You walked to the elevator and pressed the button and waited for it to arrive.

            While waiting, someone stepped up beside you and you glanced over to see the most gorgeous blue eyes you have ever seen behind black sunglasses perched at the end of his nose. He was tall, clearly over six feet, with tousled snow-white hair. His tailored suit fitted him well, a black with light gray stripes and black dress shirt, a white tie to match his hair.

            “Would you like a picture?” the man asked teasingly with a grin. “They do last longer.” He then adjusted his glasses to cover his eyes, although he did peer over them to give you a glance over.

            “GAH!” you nearly yelped, nearly death gripping your coffee cup.

            “Although, if you get a picture of me, I would love one of you too,” he then added with a smirk.

            The elevator dinged and you entered, quickly scanning your badge, your heart sinking as you realized that the white-haired man entered with you. Now you two were stuck in an enclosed space together after that exchange.

            “Are you here for an internship…? Interview…?” the man then pressed. He scanned his own badge as well, but you couldn’t see what his name was on it.

            “I-Interview…” you stammered in reply.

            The man beamed. “Oh…? Nice! For what department?” he then inquired, clearly interested.

            Your eyes widened. “Um… I don’t know…?”

            “Huh…? What do you mean you don’t know?”

            “All I know is that I’m meeting Mr. Ryōmen for the interview.”

            The white-haired man sucked in air through his teeth. “WOW! The big boss huh? Damn!” he laughed.

            That certainly wasn’t helping your nerves.

            “What’s your name, sweets?” he then asked. “I’m Satoru Gojo, I’m the head of marketing here.”

            “I’m Y/N L/N,” you then introduced.

            “Hey, don’t be nervous, the man is all bark and no bite!” Gojo assured. “Well… at least to the employees here. He does bite I hear.” He then gave a teasing chuckle.

            “Eh…!?” you nearly shrieked.

            The elevator dinged on a floor and the doors opened, signaling for Gojo to exit. “See ya around, sweets, hopefully you get the job!” he shouted over his shoulder to you with a wave. “I’d love to give you a tour of the building!”

            You couldn’t reply as the doors closed and continued to ascend. With each second, you became much more nervous. The elevator dinged at the final floor, and you exited it, only to be greeted by a familiar pink-haired boy.

            “Hey! You made it, Y/N!” Yuji’s voice excitedly said. He was no longer in his coffee shop uniform but in his own tailored suit, a dark gray with a dark gray waistcoat, white dress shirt, and wearing an orange tie neatly tied around his neck. His pink hair was still messy and spikey as ever, although it did look like he tried to comb it through once or twice.

            “Yuji!” you beamed. “Why didn’t you ever mention you interned here?”

            Yuji nervously chuckled. “Eh, my personal life isn’t very exciting…” he joked. “Here, let me get you to Uraume so you can check in.” He grabbed your hand and dragged you away from the elevator.

            It seemed the entire floor was a penthouse office space, where there were a few desks, one that Yuji sat at for his intern work, and the other sat someone with a white bob haircut and wore a nice navy-blue pantsuit. In the back was a main inner office, the placard reading “S. Ryōmen”.

As you and Yuji approached the secretary’s desk, they were just hanging up the phone. Their plum-colored eyes saw you coming and they stood up from their desk to walk around.

            “Hello, Miss Y/N,” they greeted, their voice sounding monotone. “I’m Uraume, Mr. Ryomen’s secretary. I’ll let him know that you’re here.”

            You gave a look of confusion. This person was not who you talked to yesterday or today.

            Yuji noticed your face. “You okay?” he asked gently.

            “Uh… yeah,” you lied. “Just nervous.”

            Yuji gave a smile. “You’ll do great! I already hyped you up and everything!” he informed.

            “You… what!?” you nearly shrieked at him. “Hype me up!? What does that even mean!?” You began to shake his shoulders frantically, trying to shake the answers from him.

            Yuji’s eyes were practically rolling, but he still tried to speak. “A-All I did was t-tell him you were fired b-by Naoya Zen’in and that you were a g-good worker…!”

            Uraume returned, a white brow raised. “Mr. Itadori, what did you do to anger the young lady…?” they asked him.

            “I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING BAD!” Yuji shouted once you let him go.

            Uraume only sighed in irritation. “Anyways, he is ready to meet you now,” they informed you. They then glared at Yuji. “And Mr. Itadori, may I remind you that you’re supposed to be entering data…?”

            “I got bored…” he then whined.

            “Do it brat, if you know what’s good for ya!” a voice barked from the inner main office. Even with the door closed, you could hear how powerful it was.

            What you now also realized was that it was the same voice you spoke with the night before and earlier that day. Your face immediately went red.

            You must’ve sounded like an idiot on the phone.

            “Yeah, fine, fine…!” Yuji shouted back. “My friend is here, so you be nice to her!” He patted your shoulder. “Good luck, Y/N. He’s not always that loud… He just likes to yell at me. Or Gojo.”

            Uraume led you to the door and knocked on it, a low “enter” rumbled in reply. The secretary opened the door and gave a small bow in greeting.

            “Mr. Ryōmen, here is Miss L/N for the interview,” Uraume informed. “Please let me know if you need anything else.” They promptly shoved you in and shut the door behind you.

            When Yuji said that you’d know his uncle when you saw him, he wasn’t kidding. The man had the same pink hair, sharp jawline and nose shape. The main difference was that the man before you had intricate face tattoos decorating his face and his eyes were sharp and fierce; instead of a warm honey-brown in color, they looked like they were brown mixed with red, an odd dark dried blood color with more on the red side. He was also larger in stature, much broader shouldered and muscular, his body filling every part of his expensive black suit perfectly.

            “You may have a seat,” Mr. Ryōmen instructed, gesturing to the seat in front of his desk.

            You obey instinctively, like a small animal in front of a hunter. You set your resume on the desk in front of you for him to look through and you politely put your hands in your lap.

            “You’re friends with the brat, eh?” the man grumbled as he adjusted his blood red tie he was wearing. “I don’t think I recognize you from when he went to high school… Or are you a friend from one of his college classes from last semester?”

            “Oh, I met him through the coffee shop,” you replied honestly. “I just happened to stumble across it when walking to my old job.”

            “Hmm,” he hummed in response. “The Zen’in’s small office, right? Ran by Naoya Zen’in?” Mr. Ryōmen then grabbed your resume and began to flip through it.

            “Yes sir, I was Mr. Zen’in’s personal assistant,” you informed.

            “And may I ask why you were fired?”

            “Um… well…” You began to nervously wring your hands together. “I’m going to say this… Mr. Zen’in was not very professional. He constantly tries to get with every female worker he has, and on more than one occasion he has tried to make a pass at me.”

            Mr. Ryōmen raised a brow. “So, he fired you because you wouldn’t fuck him?” he guessed quite crudely. “Wow, that’s petty… Then again that’s the only way he could get women to sleep with him. Money and intimidation.”

            “And I threw my coffee in his face…” you then admitted shyly.

            A ghost of a smirk flashed on his lips. “Wow, no wonder why a weird blacklist email came in my inbox last night,” he said. “I honestly would’ve done worse.” He tossed your resume on the desk. “Alright, you’re hired.”

            “Huh…?” you dumbly said.

            “Do I need to repeat myself?” the man sternly asked. “I said, ‘you’re hired’. You want it in morse code too?” He began to tap his desk in an odd sequence. “Honestly I have no idea what code that could be, for all I know that could be me saying I stole your penguin or something…”

            You tilted your head in confusion. “But… you didn’t ask me typical interview questions…?” you prompted. “Like about my work ethic, or why I would want to work here…?”

            “I don’t do interviews,” he admitted with a shrug. “Usually Nanami in finance does it, but I wanted to do this one myself since the brat was eager.”

            You still looked at him in confusion.

            “And I’m not gonna lie,” Mr. Ryōmen said with a sigh as he straightened in his chair, placing his hands in front of him on his desk; you noticed he had tattoos on them as well. “I just want you in my company to rub it in that asshole’s face. I ended up not doing that deal with them as well after what the brat said.”

            You knew that it was going to cost Zen’in big. Ryōmen Enterprises was sweeping the market in businesses and restaurants alike. You heard that the CEO was a smooth talker and could strike deals like it was talking about what color to paint walls over a Sunday brunch.

            “So, what department would I be in?” you then inquired.

            “I’ll have you as my personal assistant,” he then said. “Uraume takes care of certain paperwork as my secretary and arranges business meetings within the company, but I would need someone to help with outside the company, and you seem to be good at it.” He picked up your resume. “From what I glanced over, you were actually the contact with Zen’in for the deal.”

            “Yes, I was.”

            “So, you have a knack for arranging things and eye on good partnerships.”

            “I’m flattered you think so.”

            “You can also help me with running around between the departments, making sure things are running smoothly,” Mr. Ryōmen added. “I usually have the brat check up on things, but since he has the coffee shop and will be going back to school soon, his time will be limited.”

            You nodded in understanding. “Okay, I can do that,” you assured him. It didn’t sound too different to what Naoya had you do.

            A smirk crossed the man’s face. “Alright, you can start tomorrow, I’ll have the company attorney draft a contract with everything and in the morning, you can go over it and make sure it’s to your liking. We can add or remove things as well,” he then said.

            You blinked. “Oh, okay…” you replied in surprise.

            “And about your salary, don’t worry about it,” Mr. Ryōmen assured as he leaned back in his chair. “It’ll be on par if not more than what you did at Zen’in’s.” He then leaned back forward and scribbled a number on a sticky note and passed it to you.

            Your eyes practically bugged out of your head. “I-I’m sorry… is this a monthly salary…?” you asked him.

            Mr. Ryomen looked at you in confusion. “Um… no, sweetheart, that would be your biweekly salary…”

            “Oh…” you squeaked. It was nearly double your monthly what you were making when you were working for Naoya.

            “Is that a problem…?” he asked seriously. “Too little to what you’re used to…?”

            “No!” you blurted out loudly. “This is more than generous! I accept the position!”            

A wolf-like smile appeared on your new boss’s lips. “Well, welcome aboard to Ryōmen Enterprises, Y/N, I’m sure you’ll make a lovely addition.”

Special thanks to my Ko-fi supporters!

Basic Tier

Aostrele

Draconic Hermit

JadEDU

Jaune Arc

Zippy

Middle Tier

@genderfluidsgetguns AKA IdoInFactLikeDogs

[aventurineswife]

Ehh... I hope I can deliver my request clearly...

I want to request pining Moze and Jiaoqiu x oblivious, emotionless reader. So basically, the reader is Feixiao's assistant. The person who organizes her schedule, conveys information, in short, Feixiao's trusted person. But the reader is an emotionless person here, so they're oblivious about Moze and Jiaoqiu's feelings. It can be separate, though. And for the ending... dunno, I think it's better if it'll end with a bad one >:) anyway, stay healthy! >///<

Falling for the Void

Tags: Moze x Reader, Jiaoqiu x Reader, Angst, Unrequited Love, Pining (not mutual), Tragic Romance, Emotionless Reader, Introspection, Slow Burn.

Warnings: Themes of unreciprocated love and emotional detachment, Emotional distress and self-doubt, Minor mentions of battle and injuries, Implied psychological struggles (Moze and Jiaoqiu), No resolution for romantic tension.

Moze’s breath hitched as he stood in the shadows of Feixiao’s war room, hidden behind the thick pillars that lined the space. His eyes trailed after you, the silent assistant who had earned Feixiao’s unwavering trust. He had watched you move with precision, conveying orders and managing chaos with an emotionless efficiency that intrigued and unnerved him.

For someone so deeply entrenched in order and precision, Moze found himself captivated by the way you remained detached, unfazed even by the looming chaos of battle. It wasn’t love at first sight—love wasn’t something he allowed himself to feel. But over time, your presence became a fixation, a tether to something that felt painfully out of reach.

You were speaking to Feixiao now, relaying reports of abomination activity near the southern sector. Your voice was calm, steady, devoid of any emotional inflection. It wasn’t cold, but it lacked warmth—a stark contrast to Feixiao’s fiery charisma. Moze, cloaked in the shadows, gripped the hilt of his blade tightly.

How many times had he stepped into danger, knowing you would never notice? He had taken missions no one else dared to, plunging into darkness and bloodshed, hoping you might look at him the way others looked at Feixiao—with admiration, trust, or even the faintest flicker of recognition.

But you never did.

Later that evening, Moze approached you. The war room was empty now, and you were seated at the large table, organizing battle plans with your usual stoic efficiency. He hesitated at the edge of the room, his usually silent footsteps faltering.

“Assistant.” he said, his voice low, strained.

You looked up, your expression unreadable as always. “Yes, Shadow Guard?”

He clenched his fists, the scarred bandages on his wrist tightening. “Why do you follow her so closely? Feixiao, I mean.”

You tilted your head slightly, as if the question were foreign. “She saved my life. I owe her everything.”

Moze’s chest tightened. “And if someone else saved you? Would you feel the same?”

“Of course,” you replied flatly, returning to the maps. “It’s only logical.”

His heart sank. Your words were a blade, sharper than any he had wielded. He stepped closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t feel anything, do you? For her. For anyone.”

You paused, meeting his gaze for the first time. “I don’t understand what you’re asking, Shadow Guard. Feelings are irrelevant to my duties.”

And with that, you returned to your work, leaving him standing there, his heart heavy with unspoken words. For the first time in years, Moze felt truly powerless. Shadows, he realized, could never touch the sun.

Jiaoqiu watched from the sidelines as you helped Feixiao don her armor, your movements mechanical and precise. Your face was calm, indifferent, as always. He couldn’t understand how you remained so detached, so unaffected by the chaos and bloodshed that surrounded you daily.

For the foxian healer, emotions were a double-edged sword. They drove him to heal, to save lives, but they also tore at his soul when he couldn’t save everyone. Seeing you, someone who seemed immune to such turmoil, was both fascinating and maddening.

“Assistant.” he called softly as you passed by him in the camp.

You turned, your expression blank. “Healer Jiaoqiu. Do you require assistance?”

He hesitated. What could he even say? That he stayed up at night, replaying the brief moments he spent near you? That he had concocted dozens of ways to speak to you, only to falter every time?

“I… wanted to thank you,” he said finally, forcing a smile. “For keeping Feixiao on schedule. Without you, she’d probably never rest.”

You blinked. “It’s my job.”

“Yes, but—” He stopped himself. Of course, you wouldn’t understand. For you, everything was a task, a duty to be fulfilled. “Never mind.”

He turned away, retreating to his makeshift medical tent. Inside, he leaned against the table, his hands trembling. He had saved hundreds, maybe thousands of lives, but he couldn’t even make you feel. The healer who couldn’t heal his own heart.

Weeks later, Jiaoqiu found himself treating you. A minor wound, easily stitched, but he couldn’t help but linger.

“You should rest,” he said softly, his fingers brushing against your wrist as he applied the bandage.

You pulled away. “I don’t need rest. There’s work to be done.”

He sighed. “You’re not a machine.”

“No,” you said, standing. “But I was chosen because I act like one. Feixiao trusts me because I’m efficient, not because I feel.”

He stared after you as you left, his heart aching. In that moment, Jiaoqiu realized the truth: he could heal wounds, but he could never mend the hollow space where your heart should have been.