#that will never see the light of day (probably)

[woso-dreamzzz]

Loud II

Mapi León x Reader x Ingrid Engen

Summary: You really need to stay quiet

*TW: light sexual content*

You whine into Mapi's mouth as she kisses you, tongue slipping into your mouth easily as you try to get even closer to her, sat atop her lap and rocking.

"Don't be too loud," Ingrid warns from her sport on the armchair in the corner, a light flush to her cheeks as she watches, chest heaving with pants," Or we'll have unwanted visitors."

You and Mapi don't really listen though.

You're usually good listeners, to Ingrid at least, but your noise levels can never be policed.

Especially if you're unbuttoning Mapi's shirt and gently running your fingers over her bare skin.

She gasps into your mouth, head tipping back to moan when you move to attach your lips to her neck.

"Another hickey?" Ingrid asks from her spot watching you both, legs thrown over the arms of the seat casually like she's watching her favourite show.

She probably is.

"Make sure to really mark her up," She continues," So she remembers what's going to happen tonight."

Mapi's hips jerk upwards when you suck at a particularly sensitive part of her neck. Her moans turn more into a whine, high pitched and loud as you bite down with a smug smirk.

"Don't make me come over there and gag you," Ingrid warns, eyes flashing with something deliciously dangerous at the threat.

It wouldn't be the first time she'd threatened to do that. It wouldn't be the first time she'd followed through either.

She'd have to be creative though. She certainly hadn't packed what she usually uses at home for this trip but you'd always enjoyed when Ingrid got a bit creative.

Especially when you could watch her get creative with Mapi, who threads her fingers through your hair to keep you at that sensitive spot.

"You...You try to be quiet when you've got an angel sucking at your neck," Mapi pants out, whining when you grind more firmly onto her lap.

"An angel?" You grin against her skin," Clearly, I'm not doing this right if you think I'm an angel." You look into her eyes and wink. "After all, I'm just warming you up for Ingrid."

You go back to sucking on her neck, littering Mapi with hickeys as her head raises to look at Ingrid, completely relaxed and only a little flushed from her seat in the corner watching.

"I-"

She's cut off though by the sharp rapping of knuckles on the door and you both freeze, heads trying to strain around the corner like you suddenly gained x-ray vision to see who could be waiting on the other side.

"Why did you stop?" Ingrid asks, elegantly getting to her feet with a smile.

"We..." You say," There's someone at the door..."

"Yes. That doesn't explain why you stopped."

"But the door-"

"I'll get the door," Ingrid waves a dismissive hand. "And I want you both suitably warmed up for me by the time I'm back." She winks. "You two will just have to be very quiet."

It doesn't sound like a difficult task but the moment Mapi's lips are on yours again, you know both of you are struggling to choke down the moans and whines threatening to spill out.

"Ingrid." It's Alexia's voice that you hear when the door is finally swung open.

"Alexia?" Ingrid replies and you can just tell she'll be wearing that confused face that she's perfected so well just for situations like these. "What is it? I thought we were done for the day. Have we missed a meeting?"

"No," Alexia says," No, nothing like that. Listen, I have no issues if you're going to let Mapi and y/n play cards but, please, can you tell them to quieten down?

You clumsily grind down against Mapi and she bites at your lip to force herself not to let a moan slip out.

"I can try," Ingrid lies," But you know how they get when they're playing cards. I can't always keep them quiet."

"So long as you try," Alexia agrees," Even just a tiny bit quieter? The walls are thick so it's not terrible but even just a little less noise will be appreciated."

"I'll make sure they're quieter," Ingrid promises, drumming her fingers on the door just as you drag Mapi into another heated kiss," Is that it?"

"That's it," Alexia says," Thanks."

"No problem."

The minute you hear the door swing shut, Mapi moans into your mouth, hands on your hips trying to guide your grinding exactly where she needs you.

"So," Ingrid says as she crawls onto the bed behind you, hooking her chin over your shoulder and pushing you and Mapi a tad more firmly together," It looks like you two might really get gagged after all."

[scissorcentral]

Abby with a reader who's just •_• bug eyed and silent lmao, very oblivious to everything, always in their own world, but very endearing and sweet to abs <3

Abby with a more introverted(?) reader-

warnings- (there aren't really i don't think)

-Abby literally thinks you are the most adorable human being ever. Whenever you space out during group discussions, she literally can't help but laugh to herself before slinging her arm around you and holding you against her until you come back to reality (because of course you're always directly next to her).

-If anyone tries to make little jokes or tease you about your speaking habits or anything about you, she will shut them up so fast you literally won't even have time to notice. It gets a point where nobody even thinks about trying because Abby will either clap back, aiming to destroy their ego, or give them the most insane death glare. Like the type of look that could kill, and it probably could if she tried hard enough.

-You can't help but mess with her fingers and drift off sometimes and she literally will have like hearts in her eyes as she watches you. You're completely silent just running your fingers all over her hands and she will just watch in awe with a soft blush on her cheeks. She's literally enamored by you and whatever you do.

-Whenever you are out on patrol together, she ALWAYS makes sure to keep an eye on you no matter what. She knows you can get a little off track, your mind sometimes wandering causing you to wander a bit to. After her dad's death she refuses to lose you so she makes sure to never let you out of her sight as long as she can help it.

-Sometimes you guys will sneak off and find a building with an accessible roof and you will just sit for hours. Sometimes you guys won't even speak, and other times Abby will talk for the entire time as you listen to every word she says. Sometimes its rant and other times it's some stupid store that sends you both into a fit of giggles. Her main goal is always getting some laughs out of you which she always does, rant or not. She lives for the sound of your laughter.

-Her dream is to be able to see the world through your eyes. How you are able to get through most of your days without talking or talking so little. How you can be so oblivious to things but also so insightful to other things. She is so obsessed with you and how you go about your life. She wishes she could know what it's like, but even though she really can't she does everything in her power to understand you.

-Before you guys got together, Abby had been literally in love with you, but you never noticed her advances. She would get so angry, like screaming into her pillow angry. It would make her so embarrassed how pathetic she'd get but she still continued to try. Eventually you caught on after she had to be so extremely blunt. Now the whole thing is something she just teases you about, but your obliviousness is something she has grown to completely love. It's so cute to her now(it wasn't cute when she was putting her reputation on the line with her extremely obvious advances(well obvious to everyone but you))

-If you ever get lost in your head she's always there to try and ease you out. It becomes a thing she is really good at. Holding you close to her, her thumbs rubbing softly over your skin, light kisses on your temple. It's sweet and something you become incredibly grateful for. You will always show your appreciation by leaving a new coin on her nightstand that you had secretly found on a patrol.

-Abby makes it her fucking mission to see you smile. Whatever she has to do she will do (which can be a little concerning). She thinks your smile is the cutest thing in the world and would literally die to see it once more.

-If anyone in the stadium says legit one negative word about you, she will lose it. Nobody is allowed to talk bad about you. Ever. She is so extremely protective of you. You're her everything. She knows you aren't classified as a "completely normal person" by everyone's else's standards but that's why she loves you so much. The way your eyes will glaze over slightly when you space out, the way you'll just stare at people when they send you a backhanded compliment, and the way she's the only person who gets to hear you speak and even then, it's usually quiet whispers. You've got her completely whipped. You got the Abby Anderson completely and utterly whipped.

notes- Hi. I am actually horrified to post this as I haven't written and posted on Tumblr in multiple years so it's weird to be back. This is such shit, but I hope you do enjoy. To me this writing feels like a fourth grader who just learned a few new vocab words but whatever. I'll probably go back and fix it and add more but I'm still having a crisis from just writing this so we will see. Hope you like it.

(also i didn't know how to word the title but i tried.)

[dollyfiles]

you are stalker!rafe’s new obsession

cw: dark!rafe, stalking, being rafe’s prey, obsession, explicit themes, violence, mentions of murder, knifes, blood, killing, inspired by the song “tag, you’re it.” by melanie martinez

you always felt eyes on you.

it started as an unease, a fleeting paranoia that maybe someone was watching. the first time you noticed it was in the parking lot of your favorite café.

you’d been fumbling with your keys when you felt it, that slow, suffocating pressure of being watched. but when you turned around, the only thing behind you was the golden glow of the streetlamp and the empty asphalt.

that night, you convinced yourself that you were imagining things. but then the notes started. small, carefully folded pieces of paper left under your windshield wiper. the handwriting was neat but strangely intimate, like someone whispering a secret in your ear.

“red looks good on you.”

“you shouldn’t walk alone at night.”

“i see you, sweetheart.”

your stomach twisted every time you found one. your friends laughed it off. “it’s probably some dumb guy with a crush,” they said. “creepy, but harmless.” but you knew better. and then there he was..

rafe cameron. he liked watching you. you barely knew him, but that didn’t stop him from showing up everywhere you went.

you looked soft. delicate. the kind of girl who smiled at strangers and said thank you too much. the kind of girl who had no idea how dangerous the world could be. he wondered how you’d look when you were afraid. the thought sent a slow, satisfied shiver down his spine.

it started small. a glance here, a lingering stare there. following you, just to see if you’d notice. but you never did. not at first. so, he pushed further.

one night, you woke up gasping. there was a soft and deliberate sound right outside your window. your heart pounded as you reached for your phone, hands shaking. peeling back the curtain just a bit, you saw him.

rafe.

standing beneath the streetlamp, staring at your window. a slow grin curled across his face as he saw you hiding there, watching. you shut the curtain so fast it nearly ripped off the rod.

good. he thought. the fear suited you.

the next morning, you found a fresh note tucked into your mailbox.

“run, little rabbit.”

your hands shook as you crumpled it, tightness building in your throat. you immediately told your friends. they said you were overreacting. you then told the police. they told you they couldn’t do much without proof.

that was the worst part. no one believed you. no one except rafe. and he loved that. but the real fun started when he got inside..

the first time, he didn’t take anything. didn’t break anything. just stood in your room, breathing in the scent of you—sweet, something floral, something innocent.

a single red rose was placed on your pillow one evening when you came home late. your perfume bottle—half-empty even though you hadn’t used it in days.

rafe wanted you to know he’d been there. that he could reach you whenever he wanted. that you were his.

on the night he finally decided to take you, it rained.

thunder rumbled in the distance as he stood outside your apartment, watching the glow of your bedroom window. you were in there. safe, warm, his. you just didn’t know it yet.

a click of the lock. the back door swung open with ease. you’d been good about locking it the last few nights. he wondered if you’d slipped up—or if you were getting too comfortable.

either way, it didn’t matter. rafe stepped inside, his pulse steady, movements slow. he didn’t rush. didn’t make a sound.

you were in the living room, curled up on the couch, phone in your hand. you were texting someone—he could see the soft glow of the screen lighting up your face.

you had no idea he was right there. he let the seconds stretch, savoring the moment. then, finally—he knocked. soft at first. then harder. persistent. your stomach dropped.

for a long, delicious moment, silence stretched between you. he could picture your heartbeat picking up, that sweet little pulse hammering in your throat.

you didn’t react at first. smart girl. but it was too late.

a low chuckle echoed from the dark hallway. you froze, pulling your knees to your chest. "you hide like a scared little rabbit," rafe’s voice drawled from the shadows.

he was inside.

you immediately bolted. ripping the kitchen drawer open, you snatched the first knife your fingers touched, your pulse a wild drum in your ears.

then his dark figure stepped forward. he was drenched from the storm, his shirt clinging to his chest, his blue eyes locked onto you like you were prey. he moved slowly, deliberately, as if savoring the moment.

"y/n," he murmured, tilting his head. "you weren't supposed to run yet.” your grip on the knife tightened, “get out." you screamed. his smirk deepened, amused. "now, why would I do that?"

the air in the room thickened. then—your phone rang. the shrill sound shattered the tension, and in that split second, you lunged.

the knife sliced through the air, but rafe was faster. he caught your wrist mid-swing, twisting it until the blade clattered to the floor. you gasped in pain. you made it too easy.

"you fight, too?" his breath was warm against your ear as he yanked you close, his grip rough, "i like that." you thrashed, kicking at him, but he barely flinched. the phone kept ringing. you screamed.

"you’re making this way more fun than i expected," he murmured, like this was a game. and you were his favorite new toy. your stomach lurched.

you couldn't let him win.

your eyes darted around the kitchen, searching and then your eyes caught it. the kettle. still full from when you’d boiled water earlier.

with one desperate motion, you threw yourself forward, stretching your free arm as far as it would go—fingers closing around the kettle's handle. and then you swung.

rafe screamed. the sting of boiling water shot through him. and his grip loosened just enough. you wrenched free, diving for the knife. your fingers closed around the handle, and before you could think twice—before you could hesitate—a flash of silver.

cold steel buried into his stomach. his breath hitched. the world around him tilted. his hands shot to the knife, warmth spreading beneath his fingertips, the sting sharp, alive.

and then he looked at you. you were panting. wide-eyed. but not terrified. no, this was something else entirely.

anger. power. something dark, something almost hungry. rafe’s lips twitched, his vision going hazy, but still—he grinned. you were finally playing the game.

you took a step closer, your breath shaky but your grip on the knife solid. "tag," you whispered. and then—you twisted it. "you’re it," you spat lastly.

a guttural sound escaped him, half groan, half laughter. fuck. he felt it all. the blade cutting deeper, the fire spreading through his veins, the sharp edge of death curling around him like a lover.

god, you were perfect.

his vision began to darken at the edges, but he was still grinning, teeth red with blood. his hand weakly reached for you, brushing your wrist, smearing crimson against your skin.

"shit," he rasped, his voice slurred, "you finally get it, don’t ya’?”

you yanked the knife free, and he choked, body collapsing to the floor. everything felt distant, fading—but not before he caught one last glimpse of you standing over him, fierce, wild, untouchable.

rafe had never wanted you more.

and as the world went black, the last thought that curled through his sick mind was simple.

you were finally his kind of dangerous.

a/n: something a lil different but im actually very happy with this !!

tags: @dearapril @deansbeer @rafesheaven @rafeysbangs @rafesbowbunny @rafespreciosa @rafesangelita @rafey-baby @plaidcowboy @filthyrafe @figthoughts @drewsephrry @et6rnalsun @dulcescorderitas @littlelamy @inspiredangel @fawnhart @cherrygirlfriend @rafesweetie @hauntedfawnn @starzify

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Every Light

Summary: The reader is driving along a long stretch of highway when a mysterious stranger on a motorcycle shows up and decides to have some fun with her...

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 2,600ish

Warnings: language, implied smut

A/N: This fic takes place post 15x20 (with some canon fixes adjustments). Also, we all know (including Jensen) Every Light is 100% Dean coded, right?

____________

Your fingers tapped against the wheel with one hand, your other hand hung out the window of your car, dancing in the wind. Music blasted through the speakers of your SUV, Ramblin’ Man pouring out as you drove down the long stretch of quiet highway on the bright summer day. The barren Texas flatlands stretched for miles before you, not a single car in sight.

You let your foot go heavy on the pedal, racing across the plains, the warm wind nice across your cheeks. Driving all day from Phoenix to Austin wasn’t exactly fun, but you were in a good mood. A great mood. One of those rare moments of peace and serenity where you just felt still and whole.

You happy little bubble popped when you drove past a crossroads, a slick black motorcycle turning onto the highway behind you. Fuck. It was probably a cop. You’d been making good time too.

You sighed as it came up on you fast, tension rising in your bones as you waited for a siren, lights, something. 

The motorcycle pulled up on your side, crossing the dotted yellow line and keeping pace with you. You turned your head, getting a better view of the bike. Okay, definitely not a police officer. Not unless Texas shelled out for jet black racing bikes with no markings. The rider was in head to toe sleek black leather, tight against his body with padding built in you were sure of. You couldn’t see past his black as night tinted visor. He, and it was most definitely a he based on those shoulders, turned his head toward you before raising his hand, giving you a wave.

You raised your eyebrows behind your aviators. The rider gripped the handlebars again, starting to weave his bike left and right ever so slightly before he straightened again. You tilted your head when he lifted his right hand and signed a simple gesture. 

“Hi.”

Okay…what were the odds some crazed person knew sign language? Probably lower than average and if worst came to worst, you’d just gun it until you hit a town.

You waved back to him, the man sitting up more and returning it. Then he was leaning back even more, popping a wheelie. Your heart skipped as he tore down the highway besides you, only setting the bike down when you flailed your arm for him to get it down on the ground. He finally did so, pointing at himself and looking around when you frowned at him.

“Behave down there!” You shouted out the window, even though he’d never hear it. He simply kept driving next to you, playing as he did so, doing something even more reckless each time he got you to laugh or smile.

But eventually you were coming up on a town and the roads were about to get busier. He made a quick gesture with his hand before taking off ahead of you, getting in front of you in your lane and disappearing down the road.

“Boys,” you mumbled, trying not to think of the last thing he’d signed.

“I had fun, sweetheart. Let’s do it again sometime.”

Six Hours Later

You’d wearily made it to Austin and after a quick shower at your hotel, you headed out to grab dinner at a local bar. 

“Hi,” said a handsome man when he took a seat next to you at the crowded bar top. 

“Hi,” you said politely, returning your gaze to scanning the menu. The stranger's eyes lingered though, your head turning slightly to find a smile on his face. “Can I help you?”

“No, just funny running into you again today.” You raised an eyebrow, the man chuckling. “You do that a lot, don’t you?”

“I’ve never met you before in my life.”

“Darn it,” he said, feigning a sigh. “Here I thought I made an impression. Did I not do enough wheelies?” Then he signed, “Sweetheart,” with his hand, flashing you a wink.

Your eyes went wide, the man smirking. “You! That was completely reckless.”

“So was going a hundred down the highway, rebel,” he teased. He turned his body to face you, smiling hard. “You’re telling me I wasn’t the best part of your day?”

“You’re a menace,” you said, picking up your drink.

“And that wasn’t a denial.” He waved down the bartender, pointing at your drink and holding up two fingers. “So. You like me better as the silent mysterious type with a helmet over my face?”

You rolled your eyes, taking the new drink. “It takes more than a pretty face to win me over, babe.”

“How about a ride on it?” You blinked. 

“A ride on your…” you swallowed, the man chuckling.

“My bike. Although you are more than welcome to ride anything of mine you like,” he said. You scoffed, ignoring the fact you hadn’t been with anyone in far, far too long and here was a man handsome as sin offering himself up to you. “Alright. I pushed too far. My apologies.”

“…Why do you know sign language?” you asked.

“My sister in law is deaf. I actually just became an uncle,” he said with a proud smile. “I had to finish up some work before heading back home for good. I’m going be a firefighter actually.”

He looked so��boyish for a moment that you smiled at his genuine pride.

“Good for you,” you said. “I’m just passing through myself. My old friend just had a baby up north.”

“So what’s to stop you from cutting loose tonight? I’ll even pay for dinner like a proper gentleman.” You glanced away, the man tilting his head when your eyes darted back. “I promise to be as well or badly behaved as you want.”

You looked him up and down, the man still sporting those boots and padded pants. 

Oh fuck it. 

“I ain’t getting on the back of that bike without a helmet.” His grin turned devilish, even when you held up a finger. “Calm down, big boy. Let’s see how you last through dinner.”

“You holding on tight?” asked Dean nearly two hours later when you were on the outskirts of the city. Only Dean. Tonight was a one time thing and that meant no last names, no histories, just plain old fun.

“Yeah, why?” you asked when he chuckled beneath you.

“Cause I’m gonna blow your mind, sweetheart.” He revved the engine and took off like a bat out of hell, going faster and faster, so fast your heart was in your throat. “Here we go!”

“What are you-“ You screeched when he popped a wheelie with you on the back, setting it down after only a few seconds. “Dean!”

“More you say?” Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

“Morning,” mumbled Dean, a kiss pressed against your temple. You groggily opened your eyes, the clock flashing that it was ten. You felt him pull the sheets up over your bare back, Dean running a hand over your head. “Wake up beautiful. You need a shower before you check out.”

“Yeah,” you yawned, sitting up in bed, watching him dress. He smirked as you openly eyed his body, Dean cupping your cheeks in his hands when he finished. “One night, right?”

“You deserve better than me, Y/N. You’ll find him someday. Until then though, just know you are the best I’ve ever had.”

“You say that to all the girls,” you laughed, Dean smiling.

“Wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it,” he said, kissing you once more. “Careful driving today.”

“You too. And don’t flirt with girls like that anymore. You’ll kill yourself on that bike.”

“Only flirt with you, got it,” he said. You playfully punched his arm, Dean letting your hands linger one last moment before pulling away. “In a another life, sweetheart.”

“Bye, Dean.”

You hadn’t planned on getting such a late start to the day but your night with Dean had been worth it. In a way, you wished you’d forced the issue and gotten his number at the very least. Sure, the motorcycle ride and sex were great but he was good company, funny and silly but something grounded to him that let you know you were safe with him. Eileen was always on you about living a life more outside of hunting and now that you’d officially retired, you were about to start living it more.

Including telling her all about your wonderful hookup.

You pulled up outside a house in Lawrence in the suburbs just after seven, barely up the front steps before the front door opened and Eileen hopped out, pulling you into a big hug.

“I missed you too,” you laughed, giving her a big squeeze, holding on tight. While you’d talked, you hadn’t been able to see her in person since she came back from the dead and this reunion was long overdue. “Come on, let me see the baby.”

“He just went down for bedtime. But he will happily see you in the morning,” she said, taking your hand and dragging you inside. “We just got the grill going out back.”

“Good. I’m starving and miss your burgers,” you said, letting her have another round of hugs with you. “Well if I can’t see the babe yet, you gotta let me meet your husband.”

“You know he has a brother that’s single,” she grinned, taking you through the house and to the back deck where a very tall man worked over a grill. “Sam! Y/N’s finally here!”

“Well it’s about time,” he said, picking you up in a hug. He smiled gently as he set you down. “I’m so happy Eileen has a friend in town.”

“Maybe you guys can give me advice on how the whole retirement thing works. I’ve just been traveling around aimlessly the past few months,” you said, taking a beer when Eileen offered it.

“You’ll figure it out,” said Sam, the rumble of an engine on the street out front echoing through the yard. 

“That’ll be his very single brother,” said Eileen. You rolled your eyes. “Oh come on, he hunted too! You guys would so get along now that you’re both retired.”

“I’ve dated other hunters and it never worked out, thank you very much,” you said.

“You’re lucky I managed to grab the last bag of franks,” said an all too familiar voice. You spun around, Dean, your Dean from last night, standing right in front of you wearing jeans and a white plain t-shirt. He dropped the package of hot dogs, both of you staring at the other. 

“I told you he was good looking!” joked Eileen.

“You?” asked Dean.

“You’re Dean fucking Winchester?” you asked, raising your eyebrows.

“You’re Y/N Y/L/N, Eileen’s bestie?” You both nodded, Sam picking up the package and looking at you both like you were nuts.

“Uh, do you two know each other?” asked Sam.

“Some would say intimately,” said Dean. 

“We’ll be right back,” you said, grabbing his bicep, ignoring the strength in it as you dragged him down the steps and around the corner of the house. You stared at him, Dean running a hand through his hair. “I thought you were a fireman!”

“I’m about to start my training. I was in Phoenix, cleaning up one last job but…someone had already fixed the sigils,” he mumbled. “You?”

“Yes, me,” you said, closing your eyes, putting your hands on your hips. “I worked out of Washington mostly. Eileen asked if I would clean up a sigil on my way down here. I-I’m staying here for a bit to help with the baby while I find a place in town.”

“So you’re that friend of hers…” he trailed off, eyes darting around your face. His lips parted but no words escaped them. An unpleasant crack tore through your heart. Gone was the happy go lucky flirt from twelve hours ago. Instead a man filled with horrors beyond imagination stood before you, a desperation in his eyes that made your skin crawl. 

“You were wrong back at the hotel.” He shook off whatever thoughts were running through his mind, confusion entering the forefront of his mind. “This morning you said I deserved better than you.”

“You do,” he said without missing a beat. “I’m-”

“Dean Winchester. I’ve heard about you. We all have,” you said softly, taking one of his hands in yours. He swallowed, closing his eyes. “You deserve the world and I’m not just saying that because of last night. You more than did your part.”

“I’m not the guy from last night. I am severely fucked up-”

“Oh get in line, Winchester.” He blinked rapidly, brows furrowing. “You think you’re the only one with daddy issues and who’s died and seen the shit hunters do? No, you’re not. There’s plenty of us who have. I retired because of you. I retried because Eileen told me her friends the Winchesters saved us all and I could quit. I should quit. She told me to live my life. So you and me? We’re going to live our lives as fucked up as we are. And last night…fuck, I had fun. You had fun. I forgot about the nightmares and I think you did too. You think Eileen and your brother aren’t as screwed up as us? Of course they are but they aren’t scared to do the hard thing and move on. So why not us too? It doesn’t have to be together but-”

“Shut up,” he said, slamming his lips to yours. It was hard, rough. Something possessive underneath the surface that had you sucking in air when he pulled back, tugging your bottom lip along the way. 

“Kissing me won’t make me shut up, Winchester,” you breathed, Dean ghosting over your lips, cradling a hand against the back of your neck to keep you close. “We aren’t strangers anymore. You want more, you got to give me more.”

“You want a visitors pass to the insane asylum in my head?” he laughed dryly.

“Visitor pass? Honey, I live there, just a different ward is all.” He flashed his eyes open, green orbs hesitant. “I ain’t doing this out of the goodness of my heart. I’m screwed up too and you’re going to have to give as good as you get. I need that. You need that. So either walk away if you just want to be friends-”

“Odds are this crashes and burns,” he said. Your hands slid to his cheeks, smirking up at him. “What?”

“Good thing I got my own firefighter then.” He raised an eyebrow, smiling when you tilted your chin up. “Stealing my moves?”

“Just remembered you were warned, sweetheart.”

“We’re going to work on that self-talk.” You tiled your chin further, Dean meeting your mouth, a smile in it. For the first time in a long time, in years, you let yourself think about a future and what that looked like. Dean pulled away slowly when Sam called for you both, his thumb brushing your chin.

“I’m sure I’ll get the hang of it with some help,” he murmured, trailing his knuckles down your arm, stopping at your hand to lace your fingers together.

Yeah, the future was looking a little brighter these days.

_________________

[chrissssssmut]

TRAPPED IN HER WORLD

Giselle x Male Reader feat. Ryujin

You never wanted to be here.

Clubs weren’t your thing.

Loud music. Sweaty bodies. Flashing lights.

It was a nightmare for an introvert like you.

But your so-called friends had dragged you along.

“Come on, Y/N, you never go out!”

“You need to live a little, man.”

So here you were.

Sitting alone at a booth while they disappeared into the crowd.

You checked your phone. 1:43 AM.

Just a couple more minutes. Then you could fake a stomachache and get the hell out of here.

That was the plan.

Until she appeared.

She slid into the seat across from you like she belonged there.

Long dark hair. Red lips. A Black Sexy Dress that somehow made her presence even bolder.

She smirked.

“You look like you’d rather die than be here.”

You blinked.

She chuckled. “Did I guess right?”

You hesitated. Then nodded.

She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand.

“Well, lucky you. I like guys who don’t belong.”

Her eyes gleamed.

“What’s your name?”

“…Y/N.”

She grinned.

“I’m Giselle.”

And that was the moment your life changed forever.

Minutes turned into hours.

Talking with her was easy.

She didn’t ask pointless questions. She didn’t try to fix your introversion.

She just… understood.

And then—

“Let me get you a drink,” she said, standing up.

Before you could respond, another girl appeared.

Shorter. Sharp eyes. Dark blue hair.

“This is my friend, Ryujin,” Giselle introduced.

Ryujin smirked, sliding a glass in front of you.

“On the house.”

You hesitated.

Something felt off.

Giselle tilted her head. “What, scared I spiked it?”

You forced a chuckle. “Of course not.”

You drank.

And then—

The world tilted.

Your vision blurred.

Your heart slowed.

You looked up at them—

Giselle’s lips curled.

Ryujin whispered, “Nighty night.”

And then—

Darkness.

You woke up in a strange bed.

Cold. Expensive sheets. A faint smell of perfume and metal.

Your wrists were tied.

Panic surged.

The room was too quiet.

Then—

A door creaked open.

Giselle walked in.

She was different now.

No teasing smiles. No playful banter.

Just pure control.

She sat on the edge of the bed, running a knife along the mattress.

“Morning, sweetheart.”

Your breathing hitched.

“What the hell is this?!”

She sighed. “See, Y/N… I really liked you.”

The knife pressed into the sheets.

“But I don’t waste my time on normal guys.”

She leaned in.

“And you? You’re mine now.”

You fought.

Screamed.

Begged.

Nothing worked.

The windows? Bulletproof.

The door? Locked from the outside.

Your phone? Gone.

And Giselle?

She was everywhere.

Watching. Controlling. Owning.

One night, she sat across from you at dinner.

“I should probably tell you what I do,” she mused.

You didn’t answer.

She smirked.

“I sell things.”

She swirled her wine glass.

“Drugs. Weapons. Sometimes… people.”

Your stomach dropped.

She tilted her head.

“But don’t worry.”

Her fingers brushed your jaw.

“You’re too pretty to sell.”

You shuddered.

.

.

.

.

You waited for the right moment.

The second Giselle left the room—

You ran.

Through the hallway. Down the stairs.

To the front door.

It was unlocked.

Your heart pounded. Was she careless?

You shoved the door open—

And froze.

Because outside?

Nothing.

Not a street. Not a sidewalk.

Just endless forest.

A voice whispered behind you.

“Where are you going, baby?”

You turned.

Giselle.

Smirking. Holding a gun.

Your legs gave out.

She crouched in front of you, pressing the barrel under your chin.

“You really thought I’d let you leave?”

You whimpered.

She smiled.

And whispered the words that sealed your fate.

“There is no escape, Y/N.”

“You belong to me.”

Days blurred into weeks.

You stopped fighting.

Stopped thinking.

Giselle made sure of that.

She controlled your food. Your sleep. Your sanity.

And one night—

She cupped your face.

“You finally understand, don’t you?”

Your lips trembled.

She kissed you. Soft. Slow. Poisonous.

And when she pulled away, she whispered—

“Say it.”

Your voice shook.

“I belong to you.”

Her smirk widened.

“Good boy.”

And as she pulled you into her arms—

You knew, deep down—

You would never leave.

Not because you couldn’t.

But because she wouldn’t let you.

Epilogue – The Final Escape

You had one last chance.

One last, desperate attempt at freedom.

You waited. Watched. Planned.

For months, you played along.

“Yes, Giselle.”

“I love you, Giselle.”

“I belong to you, Giselle.”

And slowly—she trusted you.

Until, one night, she left the door unlocked.

A mistake.

Or maybe… a test.

But you didn’t care.

You ran.

Through the halls. Down the stairs. Out the door.

And this time—

You didn’t stop.

The forest was endless.

Your lungs burned.

Your feet bled.

Branches clawed at your skin, but you didn’t stop.

The moon was your only light.

And for the first time in months—

You felt hope.

Then—

A gunshot.

BANG.

The sound ripped through the trees.

And a voice—

“Baby.”

Your blood ran cold.

Footsteps. Slow. Calculated. Hunting you.

You tried to run faster, but—

BANG.

Pain exploded through your leg.

You collapsed, gasping.

Dirt filled your mouth. Blood soaked your jeans.

And then—

She was there.

Standing over you.

Giselle.

Her silhouette sharp against the moonlight.

She crouched, pressing the barrel to your temple.

“I’m disappointed, Y/N.”

Tears burned your eyes.

“Please—”

She sighed, brushing your cheek.

“I gave you everything.”

You sobbed.

She tilted her head.

“Did you really think I’d ever let you leave?”

Her finger tightened on the trigger.

And the last thing you heard—

Was her whisper.

“Goodbye, love.”

BANG.

But—

You weren’t dead.

Your ears rang. Your body shook.

The pain in your leg burned, but—your head? Untouched.

You gasped, blinking through the blur of tears.

Giselle’s voice was gentle.

“Shhh… it’s okay, baby.”

You barely processed it as she crouched beside you, her hands soft as they cupped your face.

“Did you really think I’d kill you?” she whispered, her tone almost… amused.

Your lips trembled.

“I—I heard the gun—”

She smiled.

And then—

She raised the gun to her own temple.

Click.

Empty.

Your stomach dropped.

She leaned in, her lips brushing your ear.

“I never load the last bullet.”

Your body froze.

She wasn’t planning to kill you.

She never was.

This wasn’t an execution.

This was a lesson.

Her fingers tightened in your hair.

“You’re mine, Y/N.”

She yanked you forward—forcing your gaze to meet hers.

Her voice dropped to a whisper.

“No more running.”

You sobbed.

She smirked.

“That’s my good boy.”

And as she pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead—

You realized the truth.

She didn’t need to kill you.

Because she had already won.

[fr0stf4ll]

A court of Shadows and Moonlight - Part 13

paring; Azriel x reader

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

word count ; 10k

Trigger warning; violence & mention of death

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

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

previous ✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” you agreed softly. “It is.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You wiped tears of laughter from your eyes. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he wasn’t fine. Not even close.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Elain’s spasms began to subside as your power guided her, pulling her gently from the grip of the vision. The glow from your hand intensified briefly before dimming, and her breathing evened out. Slowly, her body stilled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

don't hesitate to comment if you want to be added to the tag list ;)))

tag list : @angel-graces-world-of-chaos @bravo-delta-eccho @messageforthesmallestman @celestialgilb @tiredsleepyhead @annamariereads16 @arcanefeelingz @fuckingsimp4azriel @adventure-awaits13 @diaouranask @rcarbo1 @6v6babycheese @goodvibesonlyxd @sa54va87to90re12 @firefly-forest @babypeapoddd @hailqueenconquer @daughterofthemoons-stuff @lilah-asteria @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @judig92 @pinklemonade34 @sourapplex @wickedshadowsinger @shinyghosteclipse @rose-girls-world @leptitlu @acourtofsmutandstarlight @feyrescanvas @dreamloud4610 @plants-w0rld @tele86 @dragonsandrinks @making-it-big @itsbonniebabe @motheroffae @azrielswhore @casiiopea2 @whyucloudingmymind @onebadassunicorn @prettylittlewrites @moondustxy @panickedmushroom @ly--canthrope @xlosttdreamss @phoenix666stuff @runningoncoffeeandchaos @zanaorian @prettty-thing @wxveysun @aslut4percyjackson @ailoda @byteme05 @elisabethch82 @

[liyliths]

.˚𓅆࿐ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐣𝐚𝐲 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 an aot au / inspired by the hunger games

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄

summary: survive. that's all you've known you're entire life - to survive. survive district 12, survive the reaping, and survive the capitol. but when you're reaped for the 98th annual hunger games alongside levi ackerman, will you seize the opportunity of rebellion when it arises? the mockingjay is singing, dear reader, please choose wisely.

“Pretty.” A voice calls from behind you, and your gaze catches the reflection of light ginger hair in the mirror. “You look pretty.” You turn around, but can’t quite come up with the right words to say. “Thanks,” you muster up, meeting the girl’s amber eyes.  “Are you ready?” The ginger tentatively asks. Judging by the dread hidden beneath her eyes, she doesn’t look like she wants to face the reaping either. “I guess so.”

pairings: levi ackerman x reader

contains: fem!reader, strangers to lovers, slow burn, hurt and comfort, semi canon compliant, character death, descriptions of blood, phycological trauma, rebellion, this is gonna hurt but be so rewarding, and any other warnings that come with aot characters/the hunger games universe

word count: 6.5k

playlist

───────────────────────────────────────────

You've hated the capitol for as long as you can remember. You hate them for everything they've taken away from you. The people you've lost, the cruelties woven into everyday life, the way you've had to survive, and the games. The Hunger Games. Who came up with them anyway?

You know better than to ever dare say anything out loud about it.

It was all about control. After the thirteen districts were defeated in the rebellion, twelve remained. The capitol created the Hunger Games—a brutal punishment for the districts, forcing their children to fight to the death in an arena every year on the anniversary of the capitol's victory. The games are broadcast across Panem, turning slaughter into spectacle, while the people in the capitol sit comfortably with their champagne, watching children kill each other for their entertainment.

It was cruel. You hated how you couldn't do anything about it, how you couldn't save any of the innocent children sent to be slaughtered. All you could do was live with it. That's all anyone could do—and hope to hell they wouldn't be selected for the games.

You don't think the people in the capitol quite understand what the districts go through, especially in the slums of District 12. You can't remember how long it's been since you've been fending for yourself... it feels like that's how your entire life has been. All you know is survival.

You stare at your reflection in the mirror, fidgeting with the collar of your blue blouse, styled with a neat beige skirt you borrowed from the mayor's daughter. Even though you've never been particularly close, a few years ago she was kind enough to offer you presentable clothing for this dreadful day every year. It became a tradition between you two.

Perhaps she pitied you, or maybe she is genuinely kind. Probably both.

The reaping was today. Today, they gather all the children from each district to their town center and draw two unlucky names from a bowl to fight to the death. You know better than to expect to see someone from twelve make it back from the games. No one in District 12 comes back.

"Pretty." A voice calls from behind you, and your gaze catches the reflection of light ginger hair in the mirror. "You look pretty."

You turn around, but can't quite come up with the right words to say.

"Thanks," you muster up, meeting the girl's amber eyes.

"Are you ready?" The ginger tentatively asks. Judging by the dread hidden beneath her eyes, she doesn't look like she wants to face the reaping either.

"I guess so."

This was the last year either of you were eligible for the games, with the cutoff age being eighteen. The final reaping you'd ever have to endure. You're not sure if that's a relief or a curse because after this, you can't put your name in for extra rations anymore.

You've put in extra entries since you were twelve for more rations, or tessare. As they've stacked up over the years, your odds are now seventeen times worse.

That means nothing to lose, right?

One thing about District 12 is that it's never quiet. Usually, the bustling sounds of conversation come from the market, along with the sound of pickaxes against coal, and kids running around with the town strays. The only sounds you can hear today are the dread-filled footsteps of children and anxious parents walking toward the town center. Everyone takes their time heading to the reaping.

Not even the birds sing today.

-

The peacekeepers with ugly white suits stare, making sure everything is going smoothly. You see two girls holding hands. The mayor's daughter walks in silence beside you. Her father said his goodbyes, he said he'll see her for supper and she believes it. You know better than to tell yourself you'll be back, just in case the worst happens. Boys and girls alike between the ages twelve through eighteen file into the town hall after getting their identities verified by the peacekeepers.

Everyone is quiet.

After the children get checked in, everyone settles to their selective spots—the girls and boys in opposite sections and parents nervously waiting for their children on the sidelines. A tap on the microphone in center stage rings through your ears from the speakers, startling you amidst the silence.

"Welcome!" A lady beams with a twisted smile, excitedly surveying the crowd. "Happy Hunger Games! And, may the odds be ever in your favor."

You feel yourself scoffing at that. This lady recites the same shit every year, with the same bright ugly hair and outfit, although they change colors each time. You always wonder what she's going to wear next.

"Now, before we begin, we have a very special film brought to you all the way from the capitol!" The lady announces, shifting her focus to the projection screen strung up in the town center for all to see.

You tune the video out every year. You don't want to hear the capitol bullshit about "generosity" or "forgiveness", you find it rather ironic. If this was about a lesson for the districts after the rebellion, why carry it on for generations?

You don't think you'll ever find the answer to that, that is just how it is. However, one thing is certain—you know the capitol is twisted.

"Are you alright?" The amber-eyed girl whispers to you, genuine concern etched on her face. She is nervous too—you notice the way her hands fumble with the insides of her skirt pockets.

"I'm ready to get this over with," you lean over, whispering to the girl. You see her nod in agreement out of your peripheral vision. Soon enough, the bullshit video was over and the bright-haired lady's insufferable voice echoed through the town hall once more.

"I just love that!" The lady gushed, but was quick to move on to the next "exciting" order of business. "Now, the time has come for us to select one courageous young man and woman for the honor of representing District 12 in the 98th annual Hunger Games!"

She paused, as if waiting for some sort of applause. She didn't get one.

"Well, as usual... ladies first." She flashed a bright smile, disappointment lingering on her face. It makes you wonder if she enjoys being the one picking children to be sent to the games, as if she should be praised.

You watch her waddle to the left side of the outdoor stage in her heels, oh-so-gracefully dipping her hand into the reaping bowl for the girls and filing through the pieces of paper with entry names. You look at the ginger next to you, she looks even more nervous than just a few moments ago. You want to comfort her, but before you can say anything, the capitol lady on the stage pulls out an entry and waddles back to the microphone.

Seventeen entries. Your name is entered in that bowl seventeen times.

The bright-haired lady awkwardly fumbles with the paper and squints through the sunlight beaming under the clouds as she reads the entry. She takes a deep breath before she announces the name. Everyone is holding their breath. It's quiet.

"Petra Ral!"

You think you can feel your heart stop.

The ginger next to you, Petra—froze in place. Everyone knew her as the mayor's daughter, which meant everyone knew exactly where to look for her in the crowd. All eyes were on her. You glance up to the stage where you saw her father, the mayor, stand up in his seat to protest, but was quickly blocked by peacekeepers.

"Come on up, dear." The bright-haired lady quips, beckoning the ginger to the stage with an oh-so-welcoming smile.

You glance at Petra, and your eyes lock with her amber ones. You think the look on her face might haunt you for the rest of your life.

She knows she's going to die in those games. You know she's going to die in those games.

The crowd around you and the selected tribute clear the way for the two peacekeepers marching toward the ginger. You can only watch as they grab the side of her arms and escort her toward the stage. She tries to thrash away from their grip, but it's useless.

She won't last a day in that arena. Between the careers, the mutts, and whatever else the gamemakers throw at her, she won't make it. It's not fair.

It's not fair, it's not fair, it's not...

"I volunteer as tribute!"

The words burst from your mouth before you can even think about stopping them. The peacekeepers stop in their tracks. It's quiet again.

"Oh! I believe we have a volunteer!" The capitol lady claps enthusiastically from the stage.

You feel a new set of peacekeeper's arms wrap around yours. Your limbs feel practically numb as they drag you up to the stage. You pass Petra as the other peacekeepers take her back to her place in the crowd. You don't even look at her. You have to stay strong. You know every camera in the town hall is on you.

It just shows the capitol doesn't care who gets picked for the games, mayor's child or not.

She has everything to lose. What do you?

"This is District 12's very first volunteer!" The bright-haired lady announces excitedly, putting her hand on your back once you bring yourself up the steps to the stage, carefully guiding you toward the center.

"What is your name?" She asks, her colorful eyelashes batting at you.

You swallow hard, trying to find your voice. "Y/N L/N."

"Well now, let's have a big round of applause for our very first volunteer!" The lady requests, but no one follows her as she begins to applaud.

Your eyes lock with Petra's from the stage. Then, something unexpected happens. Three middle fingers of her left hand touch her lips, and she raises them to the sky. The rest of the crowd follows Petra, one by one, putting three fingers in the air as a salute.

You know what that gesture means. It's an old and rarely used sign of your district, occasionally seen at funerals. It means thanks, it means admiration, it means goodbye to someone you love.

You can tell the bright-haired lady doesn't know what to do at this point. She pauses for a moment, but quickly moves on. She's good at deferring. "Now, for the boys!"

This time, she doesn't take her time grabbing an entry, most likely eager to get the ceremony over with. She hastily waddles in her stilettos back to the microphone from the entry bowl, unfolding the paper and putting on a gleeful smile.

"Levi Ackerman!"

You watch the tension among the crowd of boys visibly drop, a collective sigh of relief settling over them, except for one. His posture remains rigid, muscles tight as all eyes shift to him. He's lean, with dark raven hair that looks vaguely familiar. His gaze darts around in disbelief as peacekeepers move in, gripping his arms. He brashly jerks against their hold, trying to break free, but it's no use. His expression shifts sharply, anger flashing across his face like a spark ready to ignite.

You wonder if he'll accept it—his fate. You don't even know if you have. No one from District 12 comes back from the games.

The black-haired boy is placed beside you as the capitol lady reapproaches the microphone after greeting him, rather cheerful. You think her voice might give you a headache. "Here they are, our tributes for District 12!"

You know what everyone's thinking. I'm sorry it was you, but I'm grateful it wasn't me.

You flinch at the feeling of a hand on your shoulder, turning to see the bright-haired lady grinning at you. "Well, come on you two, shake hands!" She says and takes a step back, allowing you to get a good look at the boy next to you.

Now that you've met his eyes, the unmistakable silver-blue irises staring back at you—you do recognize him.

He wasn't much better-off than you, he was an orphan too, fighting to survive in a world that gave him nothing. One night during a terrible rainstorm, the bakery burned a batch of bread, and that's when he saw you, hollow-eyed and starving. Despite his own hunger, he was able to salvage one loaf of bread out of the pigs pen and shared it with you after getting chased off by the bakers. He split it with you without a word, expecting nothing back in return.

You're forever grateful for that.

He is the first one to reach out his hand, his eyes carefully gazing into yours. You wonder if he remembers too. You raise your hand and return the handshake. You grip his hand, rough calluses brushing against yours, and he gives you a reassuring squeeze. The bright-haired lady starts to speak again before you two can finish.

"Happy Hunger Games! And, may the odds be ever in your favor!"

Though, you both know your odds are fucked.

The guards escorted you and your district partner to waiting rooms inside of the town hall to say goodbye to anyone who might want to, usually family or friends. You're only given a handful of minutes, but you don't exactly expect anyone to walk through that door. Hell, you wouldn't even blame Petra if she didn't.

With your hand on the windowsill, you rest your weight against it, taking in these last few minutes until you're hauled off to the capitol. You know you aren't likely to ever see your home again. You know you'll miss it, the woods have always been home. Unexpectedly, the doors burst open and you're met with none other than the mayor's daughter, Petra.

"You didn't have to," you whisper. It's no use. Although you two were never particularly close, she still rushes up to you and scoops you into a big hug. Your arms reluctantly reach around her back, taking a shaky breath.

Petra pulls back from you, her expression almost in shock. "I thought—I thought I was... I don't know how I can ever repay you for this!"

You can't help but smile at her generosity. "You don't need to. There's no use anyway."

The ginger shakes her head furiously. "I've seen your hauls when you come back from the woods! You can hunt," she speaks quickly, she knows she's running out of time with you. "You can hunt, and you're a survivor. You can win this."

Your smile fades, and you feel yourself sigh. You don't want to let her get her hopes up for your return. You can't.

"Petra, you and I both know no one from District 12 comes back—"

"Don't you dare speak of such things. Make them pay," she interrupts, her voice lower. She nods, almost to herself, cautiously scanning her surroundings before reaching into her dress pocket to pull out a shiny pin.

She hands it to you—it's gold, with a bird in motion of flight in the center. It's a Mockingjay.

The Capitol originally engineered a mutation known as the Jabberjay, designed during the rebellion to eavesdrop on rebels and spies by recording and repeating conversations. However, the districts quickly caught on, using the Jabberjays to spread false information. Once they outlived their usefulness, the capitol abandoned them in the wild, expecting them to die off. Instead, the Jabberjays mated with female Mockingbirds, creating an entirely new species—the Mockingjay.

You're not quite sure what Petra meant by 'they', either, but before you have the chance to ask, or rather, thank her for the pin—a peacekeeper barges through the door announcing your time is up, and begins to escort Petra out of the room. You shove the pin in your skirt pocket, hoping to the gods the peacekeeper didn't see it, only able to watch as Petra gets dragged away from you.

"You have to try!" She says one more time, but this time, you give an optimistic reply, though you can't help but doubt yourself. "I will!"

As soon as you finish your sentence, the door is slammed shut behind the peacekeepers as they drag Petra out. You are left alone in the suffocating silence of the dim room once again, aside from the sound of your uneven breathing.

You hate this. You hate knowing that you're never going to see her or your home ever again.

-

You and Levi are hauled in a military vehicle to the bullet train along with the annoying bright-haired lady. You can't help but tune her blabbering out, and judging off the look on Levi's face, you think he's doing the same. After a short while, you are escorted onto the train that travels between the districts and to the capitol.

You'd never seen it in person, but it definitely exceeded your expectations. The train's shiny silver metal reflects against the sunlight, almost blinding you. It is infamous for the high speeds it travels at. You're not exactly sure how fast it goes, but you know it can reach the other side of the country within a day.

When you step inside of the train, you're met with the most luxurious interior you've ever laid your eyes on. There are sets of velvet furniture, walls adorned with exclusive wallpaper, paired with crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. A delicious scent overwhelms you, and your mouth waters at the next thing you lay your eyes on—food. Practically enough to feed the entire population of District 12 if rationed out properly.

There are pastries, plenty of fruit, along with a great selection of cheese and meats. The only time you've been able to eat meat was when you caught your own in the woods, usually squirrels or rabbits, but on rare occasions—deer.

The dark-haired boy beside you seems just as stunned as you are, both of you frozen at the sight of the food laid out before you. It feels almost selfish to have this much when everyone back in District 12 is starving. Guilt knots in your chest as you hesitate before slowly stepping toward the table overflowing with beautiful dishes. Out of the corner of your eye, you see your district partner fall into step beside you, just as hesitant.

It's not fair.

You both eat anyway.

The first thing you reach for is a fresh roll of bread, still warm, its soft crust glistening with a light coat of melted butter. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Levi picking up a pastry—a cheese danish. You'd had the chance to try one once, traded by a kind woman at the market for a couple squirrels. To this day, you think it was the best thing you've ever tasted.

As you're stuffing your face with bread rolls, a bubbly voice chirps from behind you. "Pace yourselves, you two!"

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. It's not like she'd understand—raised in the capitol, she's so out of touch it's almost humorous. Nothing you can do about that.

"Good grief," a gruff voice follows after the sound of a door opening. You turn from the table to look at the man, his expression almost as unimpressed as you feel. "Let them eat."

The first thing you notice about him is the unsteady way he staggers toward you, followed quickly by the sharp, rancid scent of alcohol hitting your nose. He's drunk, no question about it. As he draws closer, you get a better look at him. Short blond hair, fair skin, and hazel eyes that flick lazily between you and Levi, sizing you both up disinterestedly.

"Congratulations," the drunkard slurs, snatching a glass from the nearby table, his fingers twitching with anticipation as he hovers over the selection of bottles. After a brief, careless scan, he settles on an amber-colored liquor, filling it to the brim without a second thought.

You and Levi exchange an uncertain glance before shifting your attention back to the man, watching as he stumbles toward a seat beside you. He drops into it with an exasperated sigh, taking a long swig of his drink before grandly gesturing for you and the dark-haired boy to sit across from him. Hesitant, but with little choice, you both obey, sinking into the stiff cushions of a square sofa.

The man says nothing—just sits there, staring at the two of you. You grow uncomfortable underneath his gaze, but before you get the chance to break the silence, your district partner does it for you.

"You're supposed to be our mentor?"

The drunk lets out a low chuckle, taking another swig of his drink before setting the glass down with a dull thud on the table beside him. From behind, the bright-haired woman pipes up, her voice demanding. "Show Hannes some respect! He's won these games before!"

You scoff under your breath. Respect? You're expected to put on your best manners while being shipped off to the Hunger Games—on top of discovering your mentor is a washed-up drunk? What a joke.

You doubt this guy will even try to be of any help, but it's worth a shot. You lean forward in your seat, raising an eyebrow. "So, what great advice do you have for us, Hannes?"

The drunk smirks. "Well sweetheart," he exaggerated, "the best advice I can offer you is to accept, deep in your heart, that you will not be making it out of that arena."

The bright-haired lady, whom you have yet to figure out the name of, gasps. "Hannes! Don't be absurd!"

Levi's jaw tightens, a scowl settling across his face as he stews in silence. Then, without warning, he shoots up from his chair, reaching to snatch the glass from Hannes' hand. You can only watch as the drunk resists, gripping the glass stubbornly until Levi yanks it free with more force than necessary. The amber liquid sloshes out, splattering across Hannes' white button-up, leaving dark stains that will definitely not wash out.

"Sober up, then we can have a mature conversation." Levi hisses, his glare burning into the drunk's hazel eyes.

Hannes lets out a frustrated huff, snatching the now-empty glass from Levi's hands before storming off from his seat through the automatic door, disappearing into another room. Shifting your gaze, you glance up at the dark-haired boy as he settles back into a seat across from you, looking surprisingly content after the outburst.

"What?"

You can't help but roll your eyes. "That went well."

"He'll come around! I'll be back," the bright-haired woman chirps, her arms swinging dramatically as she strides after Hannes, disappearing into the other room and leaving you alone with Levi.

Silence settles between you. You don't know what to say to him—not that it would matter. You're both thinking the same thing anyway. Hannes was probably right. The odds of either of you making it back home are slim, between the careers, mutts, and whatever other nightmares the gamemakers have waiting.

"Do you have anyone back home?" You break the silence, solely in an attempt to escape your thoughts, even if it's just for a moment.

"No," he says without looking at you. "You?"

You purse your lips together. "Nope."

Silence suffocates the room once more. You figure there's nothing more to talk about at this point, it's just a matter of getting through the week until the games commence. You're not exactly eager to get close to Levi. What's the point? Neither of you are making it out of the arena. And even if you did, it wouldn't be together. One of you might turn on the other. The idea sounds ridiculous, but when it comes to survival, you can't doubt the intentions of anyone.

As your eyes drift to the wooden grandfather clock by the automatic door, you can't help but wonder—is there a way out? A way out of the games, a way out of the system. But after 98 long years of their existence, you're certain the capitol has thought of everything. Every possible scenario, every desperate attempt a tribute might make to escape—it's all definitely been accounted for.

-

Later, the bright-haired woman whose name you learn is Valerie, returns alone, clearly unsuccessful in coaxing Hannes back. To pass the time, she decides to give you and Levi a tour of the train. You can't even begin to fathom how much one room might be worth, let alone the entire bullet train. When she finally shows you to your bedroom, offering some privacy, you almost gape at the sheer luxury laid out before you.

Dark wallpaper with undecorated walls surround the room, with a chandelier reflecting a beautiful dim yellow glow in the center. The bed is massive, you figure you could fit about six people on there if they squeezed together, and the decor is nothing you've seen before, rich with details you can't even name. Off to the side, you have your own luxurious bathroom with unlimited warm water, along with a huge walk-in closet, its walls lined with endless amounts of clothing. It's overwhelming, to say the least.

You find yourself shuffling toward the bed laden with silk sheets, taking a seat as the canvas of the bedframe embraces you. As you sat, you felt something in your pocket prod at you—the pin Petra gave you. Carefully, you pull it out of your pocket, examining the details. You were never sure about Petra, but you suppose that maybe after all... she was the closest thing you had to a friend.

Your fingers delicately trace the pattern of the Mockingjay on the gold pin.

It brings back memories of simpler days, sitting beneath the trees, listening to the Mockingjays sing alongside your younger sister in the forest sometime after you both lost your parents. You remember it was her favorite bird—you'd listen to her hum melodies, and they'd sing the tune right back.

Those days weren't exactly simpler. Food was always scarce. Your mother wasn't around, and your father was always too busy in the mines to help with food. You managed, but once your parents were gone, it was your responsibility to keep you and your sister alive.

And it was hard. Really hard.

Your father had taught you how to use a bow and arrow. On rare occasions, he'd sneak you past the electric fence into the forest outside District 12, strictly forbidden territory, to hunt a few squirrels for supper.

Once, you snuck out into the forest on your own without his permission. When you returned with two squirrels in hand, proud of your catch, your father was furious. You knew it was because he was scared for you and your family, worried about what could've happened if you'd been caught. You understood the risks—but you also understood the consequences of coming home empty-handed.

You stopped sneaking out into the forest, and yes—your family barely scraped by. Once it was just you and your sister, you had no other choice for your survival to go back into the woods just to eat. Sometimes, if you got extra game, you would sell or trade it at the market, and that always helped.

The winters were always harsh. So harsh.

You and your sister were lucky enough to keep living in your parents' house, but luck didn't mean much when there was hardly any food or warmth. By the time winter crept in, the rations from extra entries were nearly gone, and the thick layers of snow drove all the animals into hiding. You were only thirteen, just a kid when you had to fend for you and your sister.

That was your only job—keep yourself going so you can keep your sister alive. Yet, you managed to fail.

The winter was particularly terrible that year, you and your sister were living off just about nothing. You had no firewood, no food scraps, and no warmth—just each other. But it wasn't enough. She fell ill and you did everything you could. You tried to access medical assistance, which was practically unheard of in District 12, so you did what you could with what little you had, trying to nurse her back to health on your own.

But it wasn't enough.

One morning when the sun rose, you went to wake your sister before you planned to go beyond the prohibited fence into the forest, desperate to find any signs of game. She had been sick—terribly sick, and deep down, you knew it. When you tried to wake her, gently cupping her cheek in your cold hands—you found no signs of warmth in her skin. You felt her hands. Her arms. Her body. Everything was frozen cold.

You tried to shake her awake. But she didn't stir. She never woke.

So yes, the capitol never did anything to you, but you've seen the way they've neglected your family, children, the homeless, the starving, exploited the districts—everyone. Even the privileged among the districts, such as Petra, the mayor's daughter—were not safe from the capitol. No one was.

It's not fair.

So yes, maybe they have done something to you. Maybe it is personal.

You remember Petra's words. "Make them pay," she said. You didn't understand what she meant back then, but now you think you do. You're not sure how, but you know you want to.

You need to make them pay.

-

"Rise and shine, dear!" A jarring voice ruptures you from your slumber, forcing you to rise from your bed with a gasp—only to see the bright-haired lady... what was her name again? Oh... Valerie.

"Breakfast is getting cold!" She adds with a sing-song voice as she draws the blackout curtains open, revealing the mountains you're passing through in flashes of speed your vision simply cannot keep up with. You groan as the morning light meets your eyes, covering your vision with your arm for some relief as your senses are overloaded.

She prances out of your room, only before adding in a quick, "chop, chop!"

That was the best sleep you think you've gotten in years. Though, today is the day you arrive at the capitol, one day closer to the games. You take your time getting up, you don't really care if your food is cold—food is food. You can't complain, long story short. Finding the bathroom connected to your room, you turn on the warm faucet water and splash it onto your face, refreshing yourself before you make your way to the dining room with the others.

When the automatic door slides open, you're met with Valerie who flashes a polite smile at you whilst sipping on a fancy cup of warm coffee, along with Levi and your bright mentor, Hannes, sitting at the wooden dining table. Your presence catches Hannes' attention, and he beckons you over to the table.

You grab a pastry before sitting down with the two of them. You're not sure what it is, but it's still warm, fresh out of the oven, melting in your mouth with the first bite. Sliding into a seat across from Hannes and beside the dark-haired boy, you catch the fresh, crisp scent of clean fabric—briefly comforting—before it's quickly overpowered by the sharp, bitter sting of alcohol wafting from Hannes, making you grimace.

You scoff, gesturing at the empty glass sat in front of the blonde mentor. "Really? Starting off your day strong, I see."

He chuckles at that, shaking his head lightly. "It's not the strong stuff dear, relax."

"Levi here was the one to convince the man to lay off, be sure to thank him." Valerie chimes in from across the room, sitting in a velvet chair as she sips her coffee.

You steal a glance at the boy beside you, meeting his sharp, silver-blue eyes. He's clearly holding back a scowl, though his face doesn't seem built for anything resembling a warm expression. You guess you can't really blame him.

As you settle in your seat, you're suddenly swarmed with enormous plates of food placed in front of you from the maids. There's eggs, sausages, and even pancakes with a side of syrup. They set two glasses of juice in front of you and Levi, and you can't help but give a small nod as a thank you when they depart.

You gratefully accept the plate of food set in front of you, digging into the pancakes first. They remind you of a Christmas morning long ago, when your mother had managed to gather the ingredients for a special breakfast. These pancakes don't taste quite like hers, but it's a rare treat nonetheless. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Levi beside you, silently forking a sausage and slicing it apart with precise movements of his knife.

As the two of you ate, Hannes couldn't help himself but watch you and Levi try and act polite before the abundance of food, because he too lived in District 12, starving like the rest of you. He knew what it was like, but he wouldn't judge the tributes that ate like it was their last meal, because likely—it was.

"So," you mumble as you chew. "You sober enough to try and actually help us out now?"

Your mentor can't help but stifle a laugh as he refills his beverage with some sort of new red colored alcohol—you have no idea what it could be. He simply ignores your question, reaching for a fabric napkin to wipe the few drops of alcohol he accidentally spilt on the table. You see an opportunity to get his attention.

If you want a shot at this, you'll have to make him realize you're serious about it.

Swiftly, your hand reaches over to Levi's table knife and you clutch it in a fist, plunging it into the napkin Hannes tried to lift. It gets pinned to the wood of the table just right between his fingers. Your mentor's eyes go wide, shock plastered across his face as if you've completely lost your mind. Beside you, Levi fights back a grin, the corner of his mouth twitching.

You hear a gasp across the dining room from Valerie, who slammed her almost-empty cup of coffee on the table beside her. "That is mahogany!"

You watch her get up and storm off to the other room. You're not even sure what that word is supposed to mean, but you realize she was talking about the wood that the table was made of.

"Well then, look at you!" Hannes raises his eyebrows, yanking his nearly punctured hand back from the table. "You killed a napkin."

With an exaggerated sigh, he pulls the knife from the wooden table, setting it neatly back with Levi's silverware. His expression shifts, growing slightly more serious. "You really wanna know how to stay alive? You get people to like you."

You don't respond, your gaze locked on his with quiet defiance. Hannes gestures to the center of the room, his patience thinning. "Stand over here. Both of you."

Reluctantly, you and Levi obey. He rises from his seat, moving to circle you and your district partner. Surprisingly, he's not stumbling like he was the day before. You guess he is in-fact a bit more sober, although it is just the beginning of the day. His eyes rake over both of you, scrutinizing every detail—your features, your posture, the tension in your muscles, examining everything visible on the surface.

"You're not entirely helpless," he mutters, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Once the stylists clean you up, you might even secure a few sponsors." He pauses, then smirks. "Though, you both have about as much charm as a dead rat."

You scoff, crossing your arms. "Gee, thanks."

Levi's glare sharpens, but Hannes ignores it, leaning in slightly. "Listen, if you can agree to not interfere with my drinks..." His eyes narrow, reluctantly finishing his sentence. "...I'll help you, but you have to do exactly as I say."

You raise an eyebrow at that as you feel a pair of eyes on you. You turn to Levi, exchanging a quick glance before he turns back to face Hannes. "Fine."

"So what do we need to do first?" You ask. "How can we—"

"The first thing you need to do is comply with your stylists," Hannes starts, grabbing the glass left on the mahogany table to take a swig of his red drink. "We'll be at the capitol station in a few minutes, and you'll be put in their hands. You're not going to like what the stylists do, but don't resist."

You furrow your brows together, shaking your head in confusion. "But—"

"No buts, just trust me." says Hannes. He takes his glass drink along with a new bottle of amber alcohol, treading toward the automatic door to the other room, leaving you and Levi alone.

As the door slid shut, the windows in the dining room darkened. You realized you're in the tunnels of the mountain that lead into the city of Panem, just where the capitol and all of its citizens reside. The chandeliers in the room still keep it well-lit, but it is still dark enough to assume it's night if you weren't paying attention.

Both you and Levi can't help but feel yourself drawn toward the windows, tentatively walking to them. As you watch the tunnels blur past, a sudden burst of blinding light floods your vision, forcing you to squint against the harsh glare. When your eyes finally adjust, the sight before you steals the breath from your lungs.

You're in the heart of the capitol—a bustling city with modern buildings and skyscrapers stretching as far as you can see. It's overwhelming, far more vibrant and abundant than anything you've ever seen broadcasted back home. You realize now just how much you underestimated it.

The train begins to slow, and soon you're met with the sight of the capitol's grand train station—along with swarms of people, hundreds of capitol citizens gathered outside, cheering wildly as they catch sight of you and the dark-haired boy through the window. Their outlandish outfits are a chaotic blur of colors, so bright and jarring it's almost blinding. Each shade is louder than the last, a dizzying mess of vibrance that's almost too much to take in all at once.

You shake your head, watching as the swarm of capitol citizens wave and cheer at you while the train grinds to a halt. "I can't believe they look at us like we're..."

"Animals in their zoo," Levi finishes your sentence, his stoic eyes meeting yours.

"Yeah," you breathe, fingers absentmindedly fidgeting with the small pin tucked into your skirt pocket.

Levi gives you a slight, reassuring nod, his silver-blue eyes steady on yours. "You ready?"

You can't help but feel nostalgic at those words, remembering it was just yesterday when you told Petra you were ready to leave for the reaping. You thought you were. And even this time, you're not entirely sure.

"I guess so."

───────────────────────────────────────────

next chapter (coming soon) story navigation playlist

taglist: @fleshandbonez @reivelmin @estella-novella comment and ask to be added!

[kesadoll]

♡ CWS MDNI 3.3k ♡ black!femreader, ex-athlete/mechanic!nanami little bit of an age gap {r: 19~20 || n: 25}, fondling, oral {f}, overstimulation, missionary, unprotected but his pull-out game strong, he’s a disrespectful gentleman & such a pleasure dom ♡, {petnames: baby, good girl, darlin' || she calls him ♡ kento/‘ento ♡}

♡ sum. geto's gone ghost, & your car needs some fixing up so you can start racing.... pt.1 ♡

kesa's note idk i need that BAD i think you can def read this without reading pt.1, but still go give it some love! thts where a lot of context is, but if u just here for daddymi I don't blame u babe♡ also here's what i imagine nanami with his lil accent sounding like asks & reblogs always welcome!

it had been a couple of months since you and geto had your little night together. just like you hoped it wouldn’t, it definitely turned out to be a one time thing. yuji and geto had a falling out over him finding out geto had been hanging out around sukuna, and that was that. no text message, no calls, not even a “let me show up at your house cause i see your brother’s car is gone.” you felt used and embarrassed to say the least, but the only person who knew anything of it was nobara, who told you there had to be a reason why, though she didnt think it was right herself. you tried not to think too much of it, still going with your brother to races, occasionally seeing geto who always tried to avoid eye contact with you. bitch.

it was a regular friday for you: wake up, go to class, go to your nail appointment if you had one (you did, opting for pink medium-length square nails), go to your hair appointment also if you needed it (this time you just got a wash and trim, letting your hair breathe), and running some other errands that depended on how much money you had in your pocket for that month. you wore your usual outfit for these types of days, a grey 2-piece set with a pink shirt underneath.

yuji, got you an early birthday present about a week back, and it was a car! now whether or not he did it to flex on geto and sukuna, you didn't know, but you were forever grateful regardless. the car was white and sleek on the outside, the inside pretty much being all back. the car coincidentally was a sports car as well, nobara pushing you to race with her even more. since you decided to promise her you’d race next weekend, you figured you should probably take the car to nanami so he can dope up your car like he’s done with pretty much everyone in your friend group.

you finally pulled into the driveway of nanami’s shop, watching as he began pulling a loop of chains that made the large garage door open. he kept them open until you pulled in, closing it once you were lined up with the car lift.

“nanamiii~” you said as you got out of the car, blinking a couple of times when he turned on the bright fluorescent lights. you watched intently as nanami looked over your car, making sure the tires were buckled before he elevated it enough so he could look under the hood of your car, no problem.

“hey miss y/n,” he spoke quite calmly, his sleepy southern drawl pulling at your heartstrings. this only highlighted the bags that you could see under his eyes, making you frown once you saw he still had a little bit of a limp from his old injury. 

nanami used to be a pretty damn good baseball player. from the ripe age of seven, he’d always had a passion for it. he got so good that by his sophomore and junior years of high school, he had colleges lining up waiting for him to commit to one of them. nanami had initially gone out of state to his home college down south, but during the last game of the season (which so happened to be a championship game), he tore his ACL and MCL, essentially meaning that he’d never run like he used to ever again. it was heartbreaking for everyone; even the enemy team felt bad for him, but it was even worse for nanami himself, vowing to never touch a baseball (or bat) ever again. 

he kept that promise, busying himself working on cars day and night. if he wasn’t working, he’d be at a bar, drinking and watching the games they’d throw up on the tv there. you knew how much it affected him, even 3 years later. “kento, if you’re hurting, i can reschedule; you know we’re all still worried about you.” you said gently as if to not set off a bomb. 

nanami shook his head, offering you the happiest-looking smile that he could muster, which really wasn't much. “i’m okay, y’know that y/n.” he unzipped his coveralls, letting them hang around his waist. you knew he liked to work like this, but it took your breath every time you saw him like this; his white wife beater perfectly hugged his soft muscles, his little silver chain with a baseball bat pendant decorating his broad chest, tattoos sprinkled across his body. 

“mhmm..well you let me know when you’re under the hood, m’kay? i wanna learn a thing or two so you can rest sometime,” you said as you turned, waving off his protests as you went into his office, sitting behind a desk with papers all over them.

you busied yourself scrolling on your phone, not realizing how much time passed until nanami walked in. “y’okay? i called for ya a lil’ while ago,” 

“oh! i’m sorry i got distracted.” you sat your phone down and got up, making your way outside.

“you still don’t have t’help, if i was really hurt you’d know.” he tried reassuring you again, following behind you and fixing his black gloves.

“mhmm, sure.” 

nanami led you over to the front of your car, popping the hood open and propping it up. he had you standing off to the side, handing him tools or dragging a box of parts over (of course he wouldn’t ask you if it was heavy, opting to go get it himself). he didn’t let you do much of the touching on the inside, especially not when you had your pretty nails and clothes on, the southern hospitality in him wasn’t going to let a pretty girl like you dirty yourself doing a man’s work. he already felt a certain kind of guilt watching you walk away from him, especially with how good your hips and ass looked in those pants of yours.

the two of you talked about plenty of things, though it was mostly nanami just listening to you go on and on about things he never thought would concern him before. shockingly, you even got him to open up about his little hometown that, from your understanding, was in the middle of nowhere. nothing was left undiscussed, even the situation with geto though you didn’t go into too much detail out of your own embarrassment. nanami seemed particularly disgruntled after you told him what geto did, so you thought changing the subject would be for the better.

despite not letting you do much of anything, he still made you feel like you were important. he explained to you what certain parts did and why he was modifying them for racing, and you tried to listen, you really did, but some too many thingamabobs and doohickeys did a lot of things for you to even remember their names. the only thing you really could focus on was that sweet accent of his, and the way his biceps flexed no matter what he did. you noticed the sweat in nanami’s hair, the way it made his buff arms shine, his wife-beater sticking to his body. “wanna take a break?” you asked sweetly, not wanting him to overwork himself, especially for your own sake.

“hm?” he looked up, resting his forearms on the car. “yeah, let me finish tightenin’ this n’ i’ll come sit down.”

you hummed, going back into the office, and washing your hands in the little kitchen area before grabbing yourself a water, nanami came in and took his work gloves off so he could wash his hands as well. he dried his hands on a white towel he had laying on one of the counters.

“here,” you gave nanami the water you had in your hand, making sure he had taken a sip before you bent back down in the fridge to grab another. what nanami didn't account for were your pants being kinda low waisted, so when you bent over he got a VIEWW of your lower back including those back dermals you’d gotten not too long ago.

he shook his head at those nasty thoughts that ran through his head, leaning against the counter with the water bottle already half empty by the time you turned around. “you uh, finally gon’ race?”

you nodded, tilting your head up at him, “mmm, yeah. i promised nobara i’d go to the next one, but i still don’t know. i just don’t wanna see geto you know?”

“if he shows up, he shows up. you have a bunch of people around you who want to see you race, not him.” he tossed the towel over his shower, taking another couple of chugs of his water. he closed his eyes, his pretty blonde lashes twitching ever so slightly with every swallow. 

“yeah?..” he was beautifully exhausted if it wasn’t already clear before. his sharp jaw was complemented by a growing 5’oclock shadow, something about it ignited something in you. who knew a sweaty, hardworking man would have you gawking like this, and reasonably so.

“always. all of us are excited for you, not just nobara,” he finally pulled his lips from his water bottle, his eyes now trained onto you. he caught you staring at him most definitely, a certain kind of smirk pulling at his lips that made your stomach flutter, “you can’t go lookin’ at me like that.”

“what? am i not supposed to look at someone when they’re talking to me?” you rolled your eyes playfully, looking away as to hide your smile, though it didn’t do much. 

“no no no, that’s not what that was and you know it.” nanami’s laugh was low, his large hand finding solace on your waist. “look at me.”

you shifted your weight subconsciously to minimize his touch, not because you didn’t like it, but the warmth of his hands sent sparks through your body. you crossed your arms to try and put on a tough front, lifting your eyes to meet his, “hm?”

he looked at you through low lids, those hazel eyes of his twinkling ever so slightly between his lashes. he just took a good look at you, jaw clenching while his eyes flipped between each one of yours then down at your lips..he licked his bottom lip to bring himself out of whatever trance your face put him in, “you’re jus’ really pretty n’ i can tell you got all done up before you got here, i jus’ d’know if i can keep bein’ a gentleman with you lookin’ at me like that.” 

you leaned just the teeniest bit closer to him. the way his pretty teeth shined, his canine so sharp you wondered how it felt against your neck. “well maybe that’s just what i need.” 

“y’not ready for that,” nanami’s eyebrow raised, thinking. he slowly stepped back from you then made his way around the room closing every blind and locking every door as you watched. once done, he stood back in front of you, those butterflies in your stomach stirring, “n’ i can prove it.”

 “so prove it.”

nanami’s lips met yours with haste. he lifted you like it was nothing, all of those years with baseball and cars not going to waste (bars?). whatever was on the counter he knocked off before his hands moved from your ass to your thighs, wrapping them around him. 

the way he kissed you was akin to a starving animal getting its first meal in a while, but his lips were so soft, he tasted so good, and the way his tongue twirled against yours?? it was something you’d experienced before, but not this good. you brought your hand up to his golden locks, one of his hands placed at your lower back to pull you closer to him. it wasn’t until he brought his other hand up to the back of your neck that you moaned, his lips pulling from yours with that smile of his, kissing down your neck. “so it’s here..” he said in between kisses. 

“kento..” your head fell right on back, giving him the answer he already knew. his lips and tongue twirled and danced against your flesh, the squeezing of your thighs around his waist only confirming his suspicions even more. 

he hummed in response to you, looking up once he finally pulled his mouth away, unzipping your jacket, “i hear you,” he pushed up your shirt over your breasts, revealing the cute white bra you had on underneath. the way you were already splayed out beneath him, pretty brown skin and shy eyes looking away from nanami’s. “you’re jus’ too pretty baby.”

nanami leaned back down and began kissing you again, this time those large hands of his toying with your breasts, hands sliding underneath your bra to toy with your nipples, the noise you made only fueling that ego of his that bubbled in his chest knowing he had you going crazy already. you couldn’t help yourself anymore, your hips grinding forward into him. 

“you need me that bad, darlin’?” he said against your lips, and you helplessly nodded in response. he licked at your bottom lip, moving his hands from your chest down to your bottoms and pulling them down and off with a quick yank. the cold of the counter made you hiss, but you were quickly distracted feeling lips press right above the waistband of your matching panties, “m’gonna fix it for you, jus’ be a good girl n’ relax for me.”

you did your damned hardest, but with the way he pushed your panties to the side and buried his face between your legs, it was hard. with his nose pushed up against your mound his tongue explored every inch of your cunt, lapping up any of your arousal that dared to grace his tongue. he said no words, only humming when you had a good grip on his hair, which he absolutely loved. the way you writhed against his tongue, especially when he sucked your clit up in his mouth, causing you to arch your back so deep you had to hold onto the counter, had nanami feeling full of himself. 

his lil ego was only boosted further when your moans drew out into a long whine when nanami began to tongue fuck you. “kento-!!! ohhhh my godd!~” your entire body tensed up as you came, but nanami never stopped. if anything it only made him keep going besides your babbling pleas for him to slow down, especially when his tongue curled. your next orgasm came just as quick as the last, this one causing tears to bead up at your lashline, thighs almost snapping closed around nanami’s head.

his hands had a firm grip on each of your thighs, making sure you didn’t crush him while you rode out your last orgasm on his tongue. once he pulled away you could finally relax, your breaths heavy, whimpers dripping in ecstasy. “m’sorry baby, she jus’ taste too good.” nanami’s eyes lingered on your pussy for just a moment, admiring how much it was twitching and how wet you were and it was all because of him. “c’mere.”

he got up off the floor, off his knees mind you, grabbing you by the back of your neck and pulling you back into another kiss. tasting both you and him off his tongue was something so nasty, but you loved it. “i need you.” you reached your hands under that wife beater of his, nails dragging down his chest and stomach. you could feel how nanami’s stomach tightened, followed by him untying his coveralls from his waist, and pulling his basketball shorts and boxers down simultaneously.

“yeah?” your words lit an already big fire inside nanami. you heard little lewd squelching noises as he rubbed his tip against your entrance, your brows furrowing once you felt his tip push inside you. “y’gonna take all this dick, baby?” he said with his face just inches away, watching your brain scramble to find words from you feeling so full off that spongey head of his.

when it took you a little too long for you to respond for his liking, putting a hand around your neck. he didn’t squeeze just yet, but he slid in some more, watching the way that your face contorted, your mouth helplessly falling open. “i asked you- fuck. i asked you a question darlin’..n’ you better answer or else i’m pullin’ right back out.”

“y-yes! m’gonna take it kentoimsorryplease-” you blurted out, mustering all the brainpower you had left just so he wouldn’t pull back out of you. it didn’t matter anyway because you felt how that man twitched inside you at your words, pushing himself in a slow, fluid motion just until your hips met. he had your legs thrown over his shoulders already…he was NOT playing around. 

“good fuckin’ girl..’ he cooed at you through gritted teeth. nanami waited until your body relaxed, at least the best that it could, his hips rolling with every slow thrust. you were choking on moans, only able to get out gasps while nanami rubbed your cheek with the pad of his thumbs, to calm you before both hands were placed on your hips. he pulled you down onto him with every thrust and it drove you crazy. he was stretching you in ways you’d never been stretched, his dick reaching places so far back you thought he was in the base of your lungs.

those sweet moans you let out only drove him mad. nanami picked up the pace quite seamlessly, his eyes never leaving your face as yours closed. he was fucking you sooo good words weren’t an option for you, nor were they even a thought. the most you could do was let your pathetic moans fill the room as nanami threw praises at you left and right, loving the way your cunt squeeze around him and suck him up at every word. 

“haaah- gonna cum soo~”

you couldn’t even get that last word out. nanami was plowing into you at this point, a hand reaching down to rub circles into your clit. to say you were fucked out was an understatement. your eyes were now unfocused, mouth stayed open to make way for those slutty moans you were letting out. though your vision was blurred, and the only thing you could make out was nanami’s chain that danced with each thrust, you knew he was right there with you.

“cum f- shit- cum for me baby, please.”

something about that saying please, practically begging you with the way he repeated it under his breath multiple times afterward, pushed you over the edge quicker than the both of you expected, your cunt clamping down on nanami’s dick and causing his hips to stutter. he kept his thrusts going, helping you ride out your orgasm before he had to pull out quickly, finishing on your stomach and chest. 

“fuck-” he groaned, his hip bucking wildly while he fucked himself into his hand, his head falling into the crook of your neck.

“some gentleman you are,” you couldn’t help but giggle as you reached your arms up and wrapped them around him. 

“yeah,” he huffed against your neck and relaxed in your embrace. After some time he finally sat back up, pulling his pants back up before he grabbed that towel from earlier and wet it with some warm water to clean you up. “i know this s’ backward, but i’d like to take you to dinner t’morrow.”

“oh?” you tried to keep your laugh in, knowing it was tearing the poor man up inside. “of course! and i expect you to be on time, mister.”

“i’d never keep you waitin’, ever.”

orignal works by me ♡ reblogs welcome, do not steal/recreate..

exhusband!reiner next

[theyluvpeach]

chasing you.

you avoid him. he catches you. dealer!reader x client!chris blurb <3

He's starting to think he's the problem. Those are words Chris never thought would form in his brain—But here he is, trying to figure out why hasn't seen you all week.

It doesn't make any sense. You're always around campus, yet when he's actively looking for you, you're nowhere to be seen. Chris doesn't even want to talk to you. He just wants to give you your shit back so Matt will stop bothering him about it.

Even though he's your friend—And he was the one to even invite you to the party in the first place—He has to return your heels cause apparently, Matt has better shit to do then chase you around all day.

He's been all around campus looking for you. If you're not at the campus cafe, he's gonna launch your heels at Matt's head.

Matt is so lucky you're here.

You're in the corner at a booth with tons of books and your computer in front of you. You're not your usual neon colored self. There's no star clips in your hair. You don't have on an overly tight top. No flared jeans. You're unrecognizable.

He can see the fear settle in your eyes as he walks up to you. So, you were avoiding him.

"Chris." The tension in your voice is quite frankly, insane. That night, after leaving you in his room, all he did was talk to Matt about what to do with you and then passed out on the couch after the party was over. What could he have done in that time?

"Kid, I know you were shitfaced last week, but I can't believe you forgot all about your stuff." You blink at him multiple times. "What?"

He shoves your heels and tights that are stuffed in them to you, "Y'know? All this?"

You slowly take them, your face lighting up. "Oh... Oh!"

"Huh?" He's confused. You were all gloomy just a second ago, and now you look like a kid on Christmas morning.

"Mh....I thought we fucked, if I'm being completely honest." He watches you tuck your heels away into your bag. "This reminded me we didn't, thanks."

Chris, for once in his life, is speechless. You were avoiding him because you thought you guys fucked. Honestly, he'll take this over you being all over Aiden. He wonders if you remember that... he's not gonna bring it up.

Huh. This is probably how the girls he sleeps with feel after they wake up alone in the morning.

"Nah, I don' fuck my brothers friends." You tilt your head at him, annoyingly, and raise your eyebrow. "Michelle."

"Doesn't count."

"Brittany."

"Also doesn't count."

"Vivi—"

"You friends with all the girls I fuck or somethin'?" You laugh, loudly. Bringing attention to yourself, but you don't care. You're definitely back to your usual self. "Some of them. They're wondering why I'm hanging around Mr. Community Dick."

Chris rolls his eyes. "Matt deserves that title."

"Eh, you guys are tied." You smile at him. And he gets that feeling in his chest again. The one that makes him feel like he's dying. When you start looking at him like he's crazy makes him remember that you guys are having a conversation and process that's he's staring at you.

He awkwardly coughs. "Whatcha' got all these books for anyway?" You groan, resting your forehead on the table. "Ecology."

He blinks.

"Plants." You sit up, resting your head in your hands, "Its the study of how living organisms interact with their physical environment—"

"We get it. You're smart. Trust."

"Well—" You flush at the compliment. Maybe not pissing you off gets him places. "That's just the definition!"

He eyes the stacks of books at your table. "You got a test, or are you just a nerd?"

You scoff. "I'm not a nerd. We have a test, and since my teacher writes questions like she hasn't talked to a human being in years, I'm doing some light reading."

"Light reading?" He teases. "Whatever." He checks his phone as you roll your eyes, well shit.

He spent way more time talking to you than he thought he would. He's gonna be late to the class he promised Nate he'd go to for the first time in forever.

"Gotta go," He says, beginning to walk backward towards the exit, "Don't drink so much next time, alright, kid? Not tryna chase you around again."

"I would've remembered eventually!"

tags 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚: @inspiredangel @whore4mattsturniolo @domizzzsstuff @sosasturns @drewswife

[alexrosa13]

Valentine's Favourites

Caleb x female!reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: 1,3k words, cursing words, calling Caleb an asshole (out of love)

Note: fanfiction for my Valentine's Event

for masterlist and request info head to the navigation →

continuation of the evening →

~★~

Coming back to Linkon City from Skyhaven felt weird, seeing the sky from the ground was an unusual sight for Caleb, but he came down here with a plan, getting to work in your apartment when you were still at work, he wondered what your reaction will be...

Your day started normally. Getting yourself ready and sending your (long dead) boyfriend a good morning message before heading out became your daily routine. His responses were dependable on his job, was he free today? Was he in the Deepspace Tunnel with no way to contact you? You didn't know.

Without your knowledge, your boyfriend hopped on a train to Linkon City, on his way to surprise you.

Ever since you got to know he is alive and breathing he had one thought on his mind.

The plans he made before the explosion happened.

The ring he lost back then.

The love he thought he'll never get back.

He will be forever grateful for your kind heart and the fact that the year you spend apart didn't change your feelings.

The feelings you shared since teenage years.

It's only been a couple weeks since your reunion, and he decided that he doesn't want to wait a second longer.

He knew that it will be sudden, he knew that you may say no, but he had to ask you that question.

Getting off the train he instantly headed to his destination. He had code to your apartment, he knew you'll be at work.

Taking a seat in the taxi, he shot you a quick message good morning, knowing that you'll be stressing about him otherwise. Putting his phone into his pants right packet he checked the one on the left side, the feeling of a small box resting there, he didn't know whether the item made him more stressed or calm.

The truth is; Caleb was rarely nervous, most often than not acting unbothered, facing whatever life throws his way, after all, what choice did he have?

But this time it's different, he couldn't imagine his future without you by his side, not now, when he finally got you back.

Everything had yet to come back to how it was, but he knew you'll make it, together.

Finally he arrived at your place, he got inside without a problem, getting to work instantly.

In the meantime you finally ended your shift, grabbing a drink on your way back, you sent Caleb a text asking him to call you later. Without rush you walked through the Linkon streets, observing people going on with their life, people rushing to somewhere, kids playing, couples spending time together. You couldn't help but feel your heart ache, you missed your lover.

You finally got him back and yet you were forced to stay apart.

Some time later you finally got to your apartment building, typing the correct code on the first try you walked inside. It was quite dark, despite the hour not being that late, there will probably be a thunderstorm coming.

You couldn't help but get lost in the silence. It felt so lonely here, memories from the past months you spend alone haunting you. You turned on the lights, and instantly halted. You saw umbrellas and flowers hanging down from the ceiling all around your living area. Some hanging low enough to touch the ground, making your apartment look like a maze. You didn't know what was going on, slowly you made your way towards the area when they were 'hung' higher up, or rather... They were levitating higher up, some unknown force keeping them in their places, some were spinning slowly, some swinging gently.

You were so occupied with studying the view that you didn't notice the silhouette making their way towards you.

"I'll take it you like the decorations." instantly your head turned, your eyes exposing the shock you felt inside.

"Caleb?!" instantly you got closer to him to jump at his neck, holding him tight. His laugh reached your ears, you cling to him like a teddy bear. Using his strength he picks you up by the thighs, and you - using this to your advantage, kiss him from above, unusual sight.

Your passionate kiss broke only when you needed to come back for air.

Carefully he puts you back on your feet, his hands wandering to your waist.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, still recovering from the initial shock.

"I had something important to ask you and needed to do that in person." now you were even more confused. Something so important that he left Skyhaven just to ask you about it?

He watched your confusion with a smile.

"Princess." his voice still calm and unbothered "Before everything went down I... I was preparing to ask you something." his voice didn't falter, but he seemed to look for the right words in his mind.

"Before your 'death'?" you asked, still not understanding his intentions of coming to Linkon City and decorating your apartment with a million flowers.

"Yeah, before my death." he smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. Instantly your palms went to his face holding it gently, trying to show him that you didn't mean to hurt him with your words, he closed his eyes for a moment before opening them up with a more cheerful smile on his lips "I never had the chance to make my plans come true." he took something from his pocked, clenching it tightly in his hand "Back then we used to talk a lot about future, you always talked about pets that we'll get, how we'll move in together, how you would drop everything to leave with me to Skyhaven if that's what I would choose." he looked you in the eye, his expression turning into more serious one. Without dropping the eye contact he slowly lowered himself down onto one knee. Your brain was working overtime right now, were you imagining it?

"What the hell are you doing?" you ask, was that some kind of a joke? Was your mind playing tricks on you?

"I'm asking you to spend your future with me like we always planned." unfazed by your reaction he opened the little box, revealing the ring you always described to him when you were younger, telling him that if he'll get you a different one then you won't say yes...

"You're kidding me right now." your hands went up to your mouth, covering it, your eyes staring at his kneeling form.

"I wouldn't dare to." he said your name, not a nickname like usual, but your name "Will you merry me?" you swore that it was some kind of a sick daydream, this couldn't be happening, right?

"Caleb I..." you started tearing up, the overwhelming emotions threatening to eat you alive.

"If you don't want to, it's fine, but a heads-up: you won't get rid of me no matter the status of our relationship." he laughed, confident like always.

"Are you fucking joking right now?! Of course I'll marry you, you asshole." you let the tears fall, taking a step closer to him before hugging him as tight as you could.

"I come in here, trying my best to make you happy, and you repay me with insults? Not very nice of you darling." his teasing tone didn't get any reaction from you, you were too far gone in emotions right now to bite back.

Carefully he took your hand, placing the ring onto your finger, it fitted perfectly.

You looked at it for a second before your lips crashed into his, him tasting the salt of your tears during your exchange of kisses. He felt like you wanted to eat him whole, with the tempo you set, he didn't feel you kiss him this hard in a while. His hands went to your hips, holding it to keep you steady.

A couple of flowers slowly fell from above, some onto the floor, some onto your heads, but it didn't stop you from your exchange of passion, the fire of your feelings threatening to swallow you alive, but you were ready to get burned just to get another taste of those lips.

"I love you." he pulled back for a moment, before returning to enjoying your soft lips.

Everything will be okay now, he's back...

[ficsinhistory]

Do you have any headcanons for SCU!Amy?

You give me WAY to many power, anon. Let's go!

Amy comes from Little Planet. That's it, you can't convince me otherwise.

Because she was born on Little Planet, Amy can use her chaos energy for temporal manipulation. See the future and past, travel through time, etc.

Her people are a more pacifist, technological, diplomatic and peacemaking society. They believe in the power of the collective and that love transcends time. Hence part of her personality. They also believe that the flow of time has to be free from interference…something she doesn't agree with so much.

Amy actually knows Sonic, but neither of them remembers it because Little Planet only appears once a year for a month and she shows up the last time before he ran away. Amy landed on the island one day and ended up bumping into Sonic. They spent the month playing before she had to return for good and promising to come see him the following year. Amy never found Sonic again.

I believe Amy is a very powerful chaos energy user, especially since she is also a hedgehog. All of them, like Shadow and Sonic, have enormous and innate powers and I believe she does too. This even puts a target on her back.

She wasn't much older than Sonic when Little Planet was taken over. The whole thing was extremely traumatic for Amy who saw everything she knew and love die and the feeling of helplessness she felt motivated her to never be so helpless and incapable again.

She was captured by the creator of the Metal Sonics (probably Ivo) because of her powers when she was younger and had a quill stolen from her before could escape. This is how robots travel through time and why they have pink energy. They also can track her because of this. She blames herself for being the reason these threats are running wild and tries to make up for it.

Like Sonic, Amy was sent to Earth by a guardian who loved her, but she was instructed on a mission to protect (possibly protect the Time Stones and even Sonic) at any cost, even her own life. Contrasting Longclaw's instructions to Sonic which was to protect himself. Yes, it's so mess up to her as it's sounds.

She is on Earth at the same time as Sonic. However, she never left the New York area and being so good at hiding, never knew about him nor he about her.

Her hammer came from a factory of Little Planet, which canonically has an advanced industrial hub. She get it during the invasion to protect herself.

Amy has been fighting Metals for years and they always come back more refined and better. The only reason she hasn't been defeated is that her powers give her an advantage with vision of the future and Amy is naturally a strategic and inventive mind.

It's unnerving for her to destroy the Metal Army because they look similar to Sonic. Her mind can't remember him, but subconsciously, she knows she's seen that face somewhere. She's thrilled when she finally meets the real Sonic.

Just like Sonic's, Amy's powers are linked to emotions and since the trauma of the fall of Little Planet, her temporal abilities don't work very well. More specifically, her ability to see possible futures and remember her own past, is very scary for her. It's only when she meets Sonic again and they commit to dealing with the past together that it return to normal.

Amy's emotions in general are a mess. She is traumatized and lonely, while also being loving and optimistic. Because of her mission, she is afraid of putting even more people she cares about in danger, which leads to self-isolation. And just like Sonic, she tries to distract herself by wandering around New York and observing friends, couples, and families.

She's obsessed with musicals. She's also crazy about magical girls and has stacks of manga in her home. Amy also loves writing.

She lives in the post-credits park, in her own cave. In addition to manga, she has fairy lights, musical posters, various pink things, fashion magazines and exterotypically feminine things. Cloths? She loves it. Pop white girl music? You can bet. Rom-com? Please, she's a New Yorker.

The moon reminds her of Little Planet because it is also a satellite. Imagine her shock of seeing it split it.

She has survivor's guilt and thinks the Metals are her fault, so Amy has very little self-preservation. This leaves everyone, especially Sonic, a nervous wreck.

Amy believes in unconditional love, and is a lover of all living things. Following the philosophy that all life is valid and precious. Love is the only thing that transcend time.

When Amy meets the Wachowskis, she is delighted and excited. She has finally found people she can be around without fear, who she gets along with and who are part of her mission. Yes, she loves Maddie and Maddie loves her.

This girl collects friends and allies as Pokemons. Tom and Maddie? Folded for this cute, pink girl. Tails and Knuckles? Automatically siblings. Even Shadow can't handle this girl's absolute resolve for friendship. He knows resist is useless.

She and Sonic have a mutual crush, but they're really bad at it. Between the traumas and the similarities, it's just… amazing and scary to have someone understand you like that. Love is being seen, and Amy doesn't know how to feel about being so seen and vulnerable like that. All Amy knows is that she loves this boy very much and would hate to be responsible for taking him away from his family. That said, she can't hide it. Is so obvious.

Although she is in love with Sonic, her favorite Wachowski brother is Tails. They're tech siblings and strategic pals.

Knuckles and Amy get along very well. She has heard of his reputation as a warrior and he knows the stories of the mysterious Little Planet. They are both happy to finally have a sparring partner.

Amy's fighting style is very aggressive and destructive. She feels a lot of anger towards the Metals and this is quite a fuel. It reminds a bit of Shadow's practicality and brutality.

She is so empathetic and kind to the point of being disarming. Amy can get the truth out of anyone like that. One look into those green eyes and you are doomed. She will win you over with the power of unconditional love and non-judgmental listening.

Empathy plus temporal powers allow Amy to know everything about someone. It's scary and she knows it and likes it.

She is very good at hiding and uses this to her advantage when she visits New York. Although sometimes she likes to mess with people she finds rude by revealing herself a little and saying "no one will believe you" before smiling and walking away.

Amy has a temper and is very angry. And she is in New York. Pretty much the best place for her to hide.

She can love everyone but herself.

[velvet-n-lace]

NSFW Alphabet (Belphegor Edition)

Series: Obey Me!

Genre: Smut/Headcanon

Word Count: 1.9k words

Pairing(s): Belphegor x Female MC

Original Template by @/the-coldest-goodbye 

CW: somnophelia and some sadism

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

He’s probably gonna be too tired after all that fucking. Belphie would have to recover before he asks you if it felt good or if you are still recovering from your orgasm. He can make the effort to clean you a bit, but he’s really there for emotional support.

B = Body Part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partners)

Like Levi, Belphie is impressed that he’s got a good physique despite sleeping all the time. Because of that, he likes his slim arms so he can hug and cuddle you in his sleep; he believes slim arms give the best hugs, after all. Belphie also loves two things about you: he loves your thighs because he gets to sleep on them, and he especially (for no inconspicuous reason) loves kissing and wrapping his hands around your pretty neck. 

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum, basically)

Belphie loves it when he unleashes his load all over your face; watching you struggle with its salty and bitter flavor brings out a slight sadistic satisfaction. If he catches you spitting it out, he will only unleash more deep down your throat. Seeing it glisten under dim light all over your thighs and belly makes him want to lick it off you. Watching you lick it off his cock while he’s recovering from his orgasm only adds to the fun.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

There have been nights when you just woke up with cum all over your face or thighs. Belphie would, at times, wake up in the middle of the night from a wet dream and notice you’re too sleepy to give him a quick handjob. He would rub one out and aim it at his desired body part on you. At times, he can be silent and get away with it, but usually, his grunts and sounds of his hand tugging his shaft would wake you up and catch him red-handed.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Not experienced in the slightest. It was never his number one priority, but as he got to know you better, he began touching himself and dreaming about you more often. The day he finally got you in bed, he unleashed whatever desire he had for you, and a sweet but slightly sadistic demon was revealed before you.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying)

He’s not much of an active demon, so he loves having you straddle him in a cowgirl position. Hearing you moan his name with pain and pleasure in your voice is what he lives for when you’re riding his cock, and smacking your thighs and ass. Having him on top will unleash his more sadistic side; when he grasps your neck, it usually means he wants you to ride him roughly, which is how he likes it.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

He usually tries to be serious, but even his serious side brings some sweetness. He really gets in the moment the deeper her goes~

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He has a bit of trouble grooming himself or at least keeping up a good routine. It was a lot worse before he met you. He needed Beel's help to wake up on time to brush his hair and remind him to take better care of himself. Little by little, you motivated him to at least clean himself better. The carpet matches the drapes perfectly, with the same tints of white over his mostly dark bush.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment? The romantic aspect.)

He gets intimate, even in the moments when he’s dirty-talking or degrading you softly. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you close to him as he nibbles on your earlobe, his hands roaming over your body like he’s claiming ownership over you.

J = Jack off (Masturbation Headcanon)

Belphie’s imagination ranges from you jacking him off violently or having you beneath him while he pounds. He is constantly humping his pillow and grinding his hips into it with a low moan. He often needs to keep it low, especially in the middle of the night when Beelzebub sleeps nearby. When he’s jacking himself with one hand, he’s touching himself with the other hand and imagining you bringing him all this pleasure.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Having you be the one on top while you ride his cock, means he could lie down while you give him all the pleasure. If you could sit on his face, he would happily pleasure you with his tongue. He has a dirty mouth filled with degrading remarks, and he’s constantly repeating them the more he holds you by the neck and chokes you softly. And as mentioned before, he’s very much into somnophelia and being degraded (he doesn't mind being on the receiving end, too). Waking up with your juices all over his face and body will make him seek vengeance on you the next night~

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

It's mainly your room because it’ll be just you two. You can have a quick one in the Twin’s room if Beel is not there, but knowing Belphie, he will probably ask you to come in anyway. Maybe out of spite, he will want to do it in Lucifer’s room, but both of you will get caught and strung up, so… whatever floats your boat.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Most of the time, it’s just catching you doing something unintentionally sexy. Maybe you’re taking a nap in a lewd position, or you were caught humping his pillow. Belphie just imagines the many things he can do to your body when he has his way with you. Sometimes it's even out of spite like maybe you teased him too hard, and now he really wants his hard cock to be inside you.

N = No (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

It would definitely be positions that are too difficult and tiring for him, including those that make him do all the work. Sharing you with any of his brothers is a big no-no; maybe the only exception is Beel, but even then, Belphie will be very possessive.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He prefers receiving, as always~ You will have him leaning back against the bedsheets when your lips wrap around his length. His slim body rises and twitches each time you take him deeper. He loves hearing you gag on it when you try shoving him down your throat; sometimes, his hands reach out to tangle and grip your hair as he thrusts inside your mouth. He loves the sound of a sloppy blowjob. If you want him to eat you out, you would have to be the one sitting on his face while he gives your pussy some sweet kitten licks.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Slow and sensual wins the race. It’s only when he’s on the brink of his orgasm that he will begin thrusting into you rough and fast~ He may even grip your neck to go even faster~

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Honestly, he totally would be down, but he knows damn well it’s too risky to commit. Instead, he likes to pull you in closely to fondle your breasts or to give your ass a soft pinch. If you’re the one taking charge, then he will follow your lead and be a slave to your quick bathroom stall handjobs~

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

Slightly risky, as long as it’s nothing that requires too much stamina~ Besides the fondling and pinching, he can rub his hands against your thighs and maybe even finger you during class. He’s not afraid to walk up to you and begin making out with you in the hallways or right in front of his brothers; it's his way of claiming you in front of anyone watching or trying to make a move on you.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

Two or three rounds. You would think that a demon with great power would have a bit of strength in him, but he hates that he doesn't have enough left in him to keep it going. He would if he could, so that’s why he prefers you to be the one on top.

T = Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Just his beloved pillow and maybe even a vibrator to give him some pleasure. He even uses both for some additional pleasure, and he loves it when both are incorporated while he fucks you. Seeing you humping his pillow turns him on, and he often uses the vibrator to keep you writhing in pleasure.

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)

He’s so unfair, but Belphie’s teasing is very blunt and direct. Instead of alluding to a blowjob, he would just outright say, “I want your mouth on my dick…” or he would whisper into your ear and tell you, “You’re making me horny…” He’s a king of blunt flirting.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s a quiet boy; he knows how to keep his moaning low. He only gets slightly loud when you’re the one doing something to him, like when he reaches a certain point of pleasure, his breath would hitch, and he’ll let out a ghastly moan, maybe even start whimpering your name until you shut him up with kisses.

W = Wild Card (A random headcanon for the character)

As mentioned briefly before, Belphie hates the idea of sharing you with anyone. Beel, however, is the only expectation, but only on very rare occasions. Sometimes, the twins would argue over who gets to penetrate what or which position you would be in for them to fuck you. Belphie can be possessive, and Beel will attempt to wrap you tightly around him. Having two demons pressed naked against you makes it more overwhelming.

X = X-ray (Let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Belphie’s cock is sort of shaped like a cow’s dick. Even though it’s not as big as his older brothers, it has an extra ridge, making it look slightly intimidating when it twitches in your hands. It’s perfect for masturbation, and it’s easy to tug on with little effort~

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

It’s high when he’s more awake and when you're in close proximity to him. Although when he’s sleeping, there will be times when he dreams of you and wakes up with some cum stains on his pillow. He thinks his sex drive isn't high, but really, his wet dreams sort of show a different story.

Z = Zzz (How quickly they fall asleep afterward)

He’s out like a light, and you know this. Maybe you need to wake him up a tiny bit so you can ask him how good the sex was. Maybe he’ll do a little aftercare if you need it, but right after that, he’s out~

[these-detestable-hands]

It's been a bit since I've interacted with octopath so my stuff on these ships may be a little rusty but I'll argue for them anyway.

Castitio (Castti x Partitio)

Before the game even came out, I thought they'd be a silly couple. Lady who doesn't remember and guy bursting at the seems with kindness. I think they're got a neat dynamic, with Castti teasing him a bit but they get along and are friends. Some post canon hcs I have are that Partitio would help Castti set up an organization that produces medicine and teaches about it cause he loves her and he's got the funding anyway. Also I do think being exposed to the poison rain twice did stuff to Castti so I like to hc she's disabled post canon, being a wheelchair user due to muscle weakness, having very little lung capacity and CPTSD. Also not a disability but she has eczema-like purple splotches on her body. Sorry I needed an excuse to quickly mention my disabled Castti headcanons. While they're engaged, Partitio and Floyd work on completely renovating a house to accommodate all of Castti's needs, so like low counters she can reach while on her wheelchair, only one floor, wide doorways, blackout curtains so she can sleep during the day, etc. Castti keeps insisting that she doesn't need that much help and that she's navigating normal houses just fine but then she'd see all the accommodations in their new house and bawl for hours. She'd work less and take it easy post canon. Listen I just think they'd be a really cute couple. Castti patches up your broken arm then her husband comes in and starts cracking jokes and talking about affordable public transportation. I feel like I'm also forgetting a lot of stuff but oh well. I've got a few fics for them posted on ao3, account name: BigOrangeOnion

Ophikari (Ophilia x Hikari) (I also call them The Radiance (hollow knight reference and it makes sense for an au))

OKAY SO this ship started out as an au when the ot1 travelers were added to ot2 for that update last year. Basically, post canon, Hikari visits the arena whenever he's in Montwise. This time, he goes and there's some omega powerful warriors fighting ruthlessly and with no concern for themselves. He realizes it's because they've got some kinda of curse, similar to him with the shadow (I THINK that's what it was called).

So Hikari starts working on figuring out how to free them because their current existence seems miserable. The first he manages to free is Ophilia, by using light magic near her. The light magic makes her briefly remember who she was but it's enough for her to snap out of the mind control that she's been put under. She talks to Hikari and explains that her and her friends were mind controlled by a very weak but not quite dead Galdera, in attempts to conquer and gain more power so he could heal himself faster. So the two of them start working on freeing the other travelers together.

Along the way, they ofc fall in love. I don't remember an awful lot about them unfortunately but I implore anyone reading this to write stuff for them :]

Here's a little drawing I did of them together. I'd include Castitio drawings if I had any but I am not big on drawing ship art unfortunately.

H'aanit x Cyrus x Castti (in a QPR!!! :3)

So this is probably the one I've explored the least purely because I never really shared it with anyone. I keep it to myself because of the amount of hyper specific and sad headcanons. But basically it was an au where I'd just mix and match travelers n stuff. Like just putting different travelers in different continents with weird team compositions cause I'm a big fan of aus and crossovers.

One of the ones I liked the most is where Castti leaves Solistia by herself to explore post canon because she's not very close with the other travelers and self isolates a little. This au starts out kinda sad cause of the focus on my hcs for various characters' mental illnesses. H'aanit is initially traveling alone but Castti joins her and they're a relatively quiet but very effective and productive duo. Later, Cyrus, Olberic, Primrose and Ophilia join. They all have their problems to work through and get through them together.

Castti has to deal with self worth and realizing that she's more than just the team healer.

H'aanit has always had anxiety around losing Z'aanta, which is really bad throughout the entire story so Castti often ends up calming her down during panic attacks and they get really close because of the mutual trust there.

Idk exactly how to describe Cyrus' problems but he's really jumpy and nervous and a little bit angry all the time because of being accused of, y' know, sleeping with a student. Yeah no I never understood why Cyrus wasn't that angry about it, even when I first played the game at age 10.

I think Cyrus is just dealing with the new found rage he constantly has. He had anger management issues as a kid but worked through them and they're just now coming back cause he's been thrown out of his home and people he used to be friends with think the worst of him and he's got no one but this new friend group he hardly knows. You get it.

The story is the three of them (and Olberic, Ophilia and Prim, but this post is about ships so I'll talk about them another time) as they deal with their mental health issues. Through helping each other with these very personal problems, they become very close and eventually decide to be in a qpr together. I think they'd just live relatively quiet lives in S'warkii cause Cyrus is too upset to return to Atlasdam and Castti isn't too keen on going back to Solistia after falling head over heels in love with two people in Osterra.

I don't remember way too much for this au unfortunately. I think they should all cuddle and finally get a good night's sleep for once cause no way a single one of those bitches sleeps well with the crap they see and have experienced.

Sorry I wrote so much. Here is a little drawing based on an Olberic chapter 2 travel banter and the most important H'aanit fact.

I miss octopath yapping with people so uh yknow what! We’re gonna play a game!!

Explain in the notes what y’all’s favorite ships are and why you like them!!!

Only rules are

1) do not explain why everyone should think your ship is canon, as that is not the point of this post 2) do not put any other ships down bc that is also not the point of this post 3) ALL games are included (yes including cotc) 4) ANY SHIPS ARE ALLOWED!!! GO NUTS!!!!

[in-your-spoon]

I finished MTMTE/Lost Light and… man. That’s probably one of the best comics I’ve ever read. I made a post a few days ago about how weird it was that IDW just left the old universe behind to reboot in 2019, but my thoughts weren’t really complete until now.

The ending of Lost Light is sort of meta for the comic itself. In the author’s note, Roberts talks about how the final scene was inspired by the fact that he wouldn’t know where the characters were headed after he stopped writing them.

In the “main” universe, we see a future of muted colors. We know exactly where each character ends up and how some of them die. Everything is predestined. This type of epilogue happens in a lot of art, and it often leaves people unhappy. It left me unhappy when I thought it was the only ending! Nobody wants to know that Harry Potter is a police officer when he grows up. Nobody wants to know that Dratchet ends up together when they were gunning for Driftrod. Getting a list of futures with no story behind them is unsatisfying!

But in the alternate universe caused by the quantum leap, we (the artist and the audience) don’t get to know what happens next. And I think this ending is unique because a lot of serialized art doesn’t get the chance to wrap everything up before being cancelled. They end up like the “main” universe of MTMTE, with unresolved plots and unhappy characters (not that Happily Ever After is the best ending for everything). But the Lost Light gets to choose its own ending. They get to have that Happily Ever After, where the future is uncertain but optimistic. The characters get to live on, and the adventure never has to end.

[emsdevs]

a/n: I had a nonnie ask for 25 with Joseph Woll specifically asking for fluff but I used the ask to ask them if they'd be okay with an angsty prompt so if you sent that in, this one is for you!! I can't wait to get through some more of these! 🧡

Prompt 25: “They were there. You weren’t.”

Birthday Celly 2025 Masterlist | masterlist

You never thought you’d run into Joseph Woll again, but here you are, staring at a man who left you high and dry almost ten years ago. You had moved on since then, found a nice guy, settled down, and had a couple of kids. Somehow, though, your past is looking you in the eye right now, and you wish there was some way to escape it. When you opened your front door, the last thing you expected was to be met with a skeleton you thought you’d hidden so deep in your closet it would never see the light of day, and yet, here he is, looking oddly hopeful. 

“What are you doing here, Joseph?” you whisper rather harshly, pulling the door closer to your body, even though your husband was away on business and your kids had been asleep for a couple of hours now. You see hurt flash across his eyes. You hadn’t called him Joseph since you two were kids.

“I needed to see you, to talk with you,” he takes a tentative step forward, but when he sees you flinch, he moves back to his original spot.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” your eyebrows are furrowed, and even without raising your voice, he isn’t sure he’s ever seen you this upset.

“Can I please just come inside for a minute?” he pleads. You glance behind you to be sure your kids haven’t woken up, and once you are sure they are still sound asleep, you open the door wider and step aside.

“Okay, just… make it quick, please.” He steps inside, letting you shut the door before following you to the dining room. You gesture for him to sit down at the table, following suit. The two of you sit in silence for a moment before you have enough of it, “Joseph if you have something to tell me, can you please get on with it? It’s late.”

“To be completely honest,” he takes a deep breath, “I came to ask for a second chance.”

“Jo-”

“Look I know it’s been a long time, but leaving you has always been my biggest regret. I’ve missed you every day since I left. I know it probably means nothing now that so much time has passed, but I had to come try. I couldn’t keep living my life in Toronto knowing what I left behind.”

“You’re right, Joseph. It means nothing now. If you told me this nine years ago, things would be different, but I can’t give you what you want now.”

“What do you mean you can’t? Sweetheart, please-” he gets cut off by tiny footsteps padding down the hall.

“Mommy?” Joseph swings his head in your direction, looking as shocked as you probably did when you opened the door.

“Give me a minute,” you stand, making your way to your daughter’s room before putting her back to bed. A nightmare had woken her up. Soon, you’re back in the seat across from Jo.

“You have a daughter?” his eyes are wide, and you think you can see some tears beginning to form in them.

“Two actually,” that’s when Jo notices you playing with the diamond on your ring finger. That’s funny. You had always told him you wanted an opal engagement ring, never having liked how transparent diamonds could be. 

“You’re married?” he lets his eyes shoot back up to yours, “You moved on?”

“I had to Jo. For me,” you feel slightly guilty for some reason.

“How could it be that easy for you?” he looks hurt, offended at the fact that you were able to leave him in the past.

“He was here. You weren’t,” you let a little bit of spite seep through your words, hoping it would hurt him a fraction of the amount you felt when he left.

“That’s not fair,” he starts.

“No, Joseph. What isn’t fair is you leaving me behind like I was nothing for an NHL paycheck. I moved on.”

“Did you? Because from what I can tell, this guy doesn’t know you at all.”

“Oh, and you do?”

“I do! I know you probably secretly hate that diamond on your finger because you would’ve wanted an opal. I know you’d never paint the walls this shade of beige. You always wanted colors, real colors, that make the room feel brighter. I know you wish there was a bouquet on this table right now because you love fresh flowers. I know one of those girls in there is named Margot, and if I had to guess the other is named Maeve because those were always your top two options for girl names. I know if I went to the master bathroom right now it would probably have a Jack and Jill sink because you think there’s not enough counter space for two people otherwise. Don’t tell me I don’t know you when I know this isn’t what you would’ve wanted. Where even is this guy, huh? How often is he home?” he takes a moment to catch his breath, but all of your emotions hit you at once. Before you know it, you’re crying in the arms of a man you thought you’d never see again.

When you finally calm down, you decide to be honest with Joseph, “Never,” you say it so lowly he almost doesn’t hear.

“Never what, baby?”

“He’s never here. The girls are used to it now. They barely talk to him when he is. I couldn’t even tell you the last time he kissed me Jo, or even took me out to dinner. You’re right. He doesn’t know me. He never has, and I’m miserable. The only thing keeping me going are Margot and Maeve.” Jo feels his heart soar knowing he got the names right, but he doesn’t let it cloud his judgment. 

“Let’s get you out of it then,” he says it like it’s a fact, like he knows you’ll say yes. You suppose he does know you better than anyone because you agree quicker than you’d like to admit.

“Okay,” you risk looking up at him.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’ll work on starting the divorce process tomorrow. I can’t live like this. Ellis can keep doing whatever he wants without me and the girls tying him down.” 

For the first time in a long time, you felt hopeful. You were truly happy, and you had a sneaking suspicion Joseph had a lot to do with it. You could only hope he’d stick around this time.

taglist: @heartsforjh @macklin-celbrini-71 @dancerbailey3  @joeyspuckbunny  @beenucks  @wolls-angel  @lukey-pookie-hughes43  @t0xicinvasion @nadicakes143  @wollgirlie

join the taglist

[tearsaura]

In the woods, the monster awaits // Eris Vanserra x reader

Based on this comment by @astarionsdurge thank you so much for this prompt! I hope you like it.

picture is from pinterest: tanema3

Word count: 1.2k

The estate was much quieter nowadays. Visiting it served only two purposes: seeing my mother or following up on court business. It always felt cold, which is ironic since our power was quite the opposite.

My father’s office was the furthest away at the highest floor and even that didn’t seem far away enough from us. As I climbed up the stairs and entered his space a few moments later, the familiar smell of his cologne hit me and it made my skin crawl.

“We must check in with y/l/n. The magic on our borders is wearing of. There has been an increase on beasts in the woods and if they get any closer, they’ll feast on the village by noon and on us by the evening.” Beron said without looking up from his papers as I stepped closer to his desk.

Well hello to you too father!

Yes, I am doing alright thank you for asking!

Our army shrinks with every day that passes but you already knew that and you refuse to do anything about it! What will you do when there are none left, even for you?

How are you feeling? Any chance that you step down and free this court from its misery?

My father, the high lord of the autumn court, summoned me at dawn to complain, like he usually did. He did take me by surprise that he decided to do something about it instead of delegating it to someone else. Maybe the thoughts of being a meal for some beasts did worry him.

“Shall I meet up with him today?”

“No, I already scheduled to meet up and I want you to accompany me, I need to have a word with him first but after that it is going to be your problem.” He said, raising from his chair.

With other words, he wanted the people from the village to think that he does care about them. That’s what he usually does: Goes to the poorer villages occasionally, act as if he cares, promises them that he works something out to help them but never actually does it. He wordlessly walked out, his guards trailing after him. I sighed, counted to ten, and went after them.

The horse ride to the boarders went quietly thankfully. I tuned out my fathers talking and took in the lands. The autumn court was beautiful, especially the forest. We reached the said place at the border shortly, and nobody was there. I got off my horse and gave him something to eat before joining my father, who was already seething. It was astonishing, how short his patience ran.

“This is unacceptable. Where is the old man?” Beron complained as he dismounted his horse, walking further into the woods.

Please dear mother, let this man get lost in there and never come back.

“This is a forest, he probably needs some time to find us because it looks all, you know, the same.” I claimed, walking after him whilst keeping my distance.

“I am the high lord of the autumn court! I do not have the time or the nerve to wait on some old Witcher to find his way to the place I ordered him to get to on time. He’s a Witcher don’t they sense people?”

“We don’t. We only sense the magic, or well, the lack of it.” A feminine voice called and as I turned around, I was sure that reality had left me. The unknown woman came towards us, my father taking a few steps back as his guards stepped in front of him.

She nearly made me drop to my knees. There were no words on this world that would do right in describing how beautiful she was. No music could come close to the sound of her voice. Without thinking, I stepped closer to her.

The woman raised up her hands in surrender. “No need to draw weapons. I am not here to harm you, high lord. My father sends me: y/l/n, the old Witcher?” she said, a coy smile graced her red lips. Of course, I personally hadn’t seen her father but her signature light grey, almost white, eyes gave her away as a family member of the witches.

“Why didn’t he come himself? I specifically told him that he should come. One would think that the order of the High lord where to take-” “He went to another weak spot. Sadly, this area isn’t our only problem. It took me a while to find you because the magic is missing in multiple places.”

I swallowed. One leakage was bad, but manageable. Multiple where a bad sign. Something was wrong.

“So, what can we do about it?” I asked, her eyes now fixating on me. They looked just like the sky during autumns stormy afternoons. Very hard to look away from, pulling me deeper into this trance.

“You are?”

“Eris. Eris Vanserra.” She continued to look at me, her head tilting slightly. She had a mole right over her upper lip on the left side.

“My oldest son.” I hadn’t even realised that my father had stepped closer too. “He will take over this matter and you’ll correspond directly to him. Unfortunately, I must go. Court affairs.” He said, before he went to his horse, his guards trailing after him.

She waited for a few moments, watching my father and his guards leaving and as they became a small figure in the distance, her attention turned back to me.

“I feel sorry for lady autumn. It must be tiring to listen to this man for even a second, I fear.”

“You have no idea.” I replied and she gave me another smile. She had dimples.

“So, my father and I are working on resurrecting the old magic that was used. But it is many centuries old and all the tomes we have need to be translated first. We will work with lesser magic until we have it but that would only last days or weeks at most. For the time being I would stay here to make sure that everything is alright.” She said, stemming her hands on her hips as she observed.

She smelled divine. Oranges with a hint of vanilla. He wanted to wrap her scent around him for the rest of his life.

“The Forrest house isn’t far from here. You can stay there.” I blurted, her eyes widening in surprise. “Oh, that is quite all right I thought about bringing a tent-” “A tent? Absolutely not. You are saving your people with your work. The least I can do is make sure that you have an actual roof over your head.” I said, stepping closer to her. She bit her lip, as she looked up to me, the confidence from before replaced with sudden shyness.

“Thank you, Eris.”

Eris. That’s what did it. I suddenly felt the thin golden thread pulling me towards her and my breath hitched.

Mate.

Must protect her, must keep her safe.

I found my mate. I took everything in me not to blurt it right out.

“Of course.” I whispered, before I held out my arm to her hoping that she didn’t notice it trembling.

“I’ll bring you there.”