#you remind me that I still have asks to answer
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undoing-daughters-blog · 2 days ago
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I'm going to explain the theory that Jinx is not actually dead
(I know this is long, I promise it's worth it)
This starts in chapter 8 of season two.
We see Jinx in the prision, she's devastated, lost, defeated, and wants things to end. And we see the first interaction she has with the voice of Silco. In this interaction Silco tells Jinx that "killing is a cycle" and that it would continue. But Jinx says she's "done running in circles", meaning: she wants to stop this cycle. To which Silco says:
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And later, when Vi goes to visit Jinx, and Jinx tricks Vi and escapes the prison. Vi then asks her what she will do, Jinx answers:
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And now Jinx knows the way to break the cycle, is by leaving.
Next time we see Jinx is in episode 9. She is still in the same mood as before, and now she cuts most of her hair off and burns The Last Drop
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Burning down The Last Drop and letting go of her hair shows this closure. Later, she tries to kill herself, which is her way of "walking away" to "break the cycle".
But then Ekko shows up, saves her, and they go to save Vi and the others together.
At this point, Jinx wants to stop the killing and wants to leave, but she will always want to save Vi ("I'm always with you. Even when we are worlds apart").
But she still wants to break the cycle. She still needs to let go.
So, as she saves Vi from Warwick with the monkey bomb explosion, she escapes and leaves Piltover.
And we get a hint of that in the final scenes of the show when Caitlyn is going through her mother's database. She finds a blueprint of the hexgate tower and finds secret air ducts in the place where the explosion happened.
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We also see her holding a part of Jinx's bomb.
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And after seeing the blueprint she has this look. Like she's thinking "is it possible she survived?"
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And in the very last scene we see one of these things that is flying away from Piltover.
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Which reminds me of Season 1 Episode 1:
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She has always wanted to ride one of them.
Maybe, this is her new way of walking away, instead of dying.
And the two frames are almost exactly the same, it couldn't not be a reference to that s1 moment.
And I know this theory may sound dumb but, why would they show us Caitlyn looking at those blueprints then? Every scene, every frame in Arcane is carefully designed. The team is very good, they wouldn't just show it for no reason. It wouldn't make sense. Especially because they have only 9 episodes of 40 minutes each (except 9 which has 50) to develop everything that happens in season two. And there are A LOT of things going on, they don't have time to spare. If they chose to show us that, it had a very important meaning.
Also I think it's kinda bad If Jinx just dies, I wouldn't like that ending, at least not like this.
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gay-dorito-dust · 1 day ago
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Can’t stop thinking the tall horror men of homicipher. I’m like 5ft something, so I know damn well these men tower over me…am I discovering something? Maybe 👀👀👀but I know I ain’t alone. TRUE STORY: Also there was this guy that came into my place of work moths ago with his family and he was TALL, bending down to get through the doorframe TALL but he was lovely.
So how do I imagine these boy would react if they see that you’re clearly ogling them for how tall they were.
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Mr crawling
Given the fact that you’ve only seen him stand once, it was enough to have your jaw dropping to the floor. He was taller than the fucking doorway that he had to manoeuvre himself under it, and suddenly you’ve forgotten that you were being kidnapped by Mr Stitch, too intrigued by his height and now understanding why he had lied to you about his ability to stand.
He thought he would scare you but in fact made you feel the complete opposite, you loved how tall he was and you couldn’t get it out of your head, even when he’s back on his hands and knees to comfort you. The illusion had worn off and now you wanted to see him tall all the time, but you didn’t want to pressure him into doing so unless he felt comfortable.
‘You’re tall, really tall.’ You said in awe as Mr crawling coddled you against his chest.
‘Scared?’ He asked as though he was fearing your answer, which broke your heart as you nuzzled your face against his shoulder in an attempt of comfort.
‘No, handsome.’ You replied as Mr Crawling made chirps and purrs of happiness as he held you closer to him.
While he’s still not fond on standing to his full height, the fear of his intimating stature would chase you away one day embedded in his heavily, he would find some comfort in knowing that you loved his tall stature and love you even more for not forcing him to do something he clearly was uncomfortable with; preferring to shower him in kisses and remind him that whether he’s standing or on his hands and knees you loved him regardless.
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Mr silvair
The man can feel your eyes on his back constantly. He knows he’s taller than most but the way you looked and admired his full height like you wouldn’t be able to anymore.
He wonders whether this was something only you seemed to have or whether other humans also felt possessed by the need to gawk at people above a certain height. Or was it just you that has this particular expression upon seeing his tall stature in general.
He would take notes of how his height seemingly did something to you that then triggered a chemical reaction within your brain to make you find his height appealing and possibly a requirement in finding your perfect romantic partner.
Or more specifically people of similar height to Mr Silvair himself or anyone close enough to his height to qualify. Mr Silvair soon deduced that you liked the domineering presence of someone much bigger than you, someone who’s able to drag you wherever as though you were nothing but weightless to them, almost like a ragdoll.
He’d soon find that this is in most cases considered a kink amongst you humans who found the height difference between partner rather erotic.
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Mr Scarletella
Finds your content ogling of him flattering and thinks that it means that you were finally, finally reciprocating his obsession with you for your own obsession with him.
He’s another one who takes note of how you like how tall he is in comparison to you, always looking at him whenever he was entering the room, eyes widening when you see him having to bed down to get through the doorway, and your eyes never leave him even as he’s walking towards you; seemingly getting taller with each step until he’s in front of you and you’re looking at him in awe and hitched breath.
He’s obsessed with your expression each and every time and uses his height to his advantage. Such as doing things like putting his hand above your head and on the wall, looking down at you with those obsessive eyes of his as his smile seemed to widen upon hearing your breath hitch and eyes widen once more.
His height continued to elicit a reaction out of you that Mr Scarletella loved and adored and wanted to see more of in the future.
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Mr Hood
Finds your constant ogling of his height interesting.
He didn’t know why you were so surprised he’s this tall, he’s been with you this entire time and it was only recently did your mind seemed to inform you of your Incredibly stark height difference, and bam! Suddenly he’s the subject of your constant staring and ogling as though it would be the last thing you did.
It was humorous to say the least and will earn you some head pats and cheek caresses that has you leaning towards his comforting and gentle touches.
It wasn’t something that you hide from him as half of the time you didn’t realise you were doing it until Mr Hood pointed it out with curiosity, meanwhile your left flustered as your mind held certain thoughts towards his legs, thighs and large hands.
Poor Mr Hood, he understood to some extent but after a certain point it’s better to explain to him that you find his height rather appealing to you in more ways than one.
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no-144444 · 17 hours ago
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prince charming- l.norris
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summary: lando brings his niece to the ballet, who knew he'd find love?
pairing: lando norris x fem! ballerina! reader
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Another show finished, another day done. All you had to do was meet some children and show them around the stage. It was a thing the company had decided to do after every single show, and you were one of the only ballerinas who enjoyed it. Everyone else ran out of there as fast as they could, but you stayed around, in full costume, showing them everything. 
“Y/n! Y/n! Look!” Mila, the little girl that had been assigned to you pulled on your hand and you followed her over. “It’s your Prince Charming!” She pointed at your co-star, Richard, who was playing Prince Charming while you played Cinderella. He was lovely and one of your best friends, but Mila’s face fell when she saw him kiss another girl, aka his actual girlfriend Mia. “He’s kissing someone else!” she gasped, looking at you hurt. 
You smiled. “We’re only together in the show, remember? My name isn’t Cinderella, is it?” You chuckled and she nodded, laughing. “So, that’s Richard, and he’s Mia’s real-life Prince Charming, not mine.”
She nodded understandingly. “Do you have a Prince Charming?”
You internally cringed, why did kids always want to know about your love-life? “No,” you smiled. 
Her face lit up. “OH! Perfect! Uncle Lala!” she called for her uncle to come over as your face fell. “Uncle Lala will you be Y/n’s Prince Charming so she can be my Auntie and we can have fun forever?!” 
Mila’s excited face and the ridiculousness of her statement, reminding him she truly didn’t know how the world worked, made him giggle. And with Lando, when he starts, he doesn’t stop. It took a whole minute for him to stop laughing, while you sat there awkwardly. You knew who he was, you knew why he was laughing, but it was still rude. Just say no, dude. 
“Mila, it doesn’t work like that,” he explained. “She’s way too pretty for me,” he whispered, sitting down beside her, and in front of you. 
Your eyes widened and you looked down, confused at the entire situation. 
“I know she is,” Mila answered (subtle dig at her uncle, but alright). “But you could ask her to dance or something. Princesses like dancing.”
Lando shook his head. “I’m an awful dancer.”
“Why do you just try talking to her!” Mila scoffed, then ran off to go look at some of the set of the show. 
You looked up and met his eyes and you both started laughing. “I’m so sorry about her, she gets like this sometimes,” he admitted, a slight blush on his cheeks. 
“It’s alright, it happens sometimes,” you waved him off, an easy smile on your face. 
“You get hit on through people’s nieces a lot?” he questioned. 
You chuckled. “It’s more common than you think, people love the ballerina shtick.”
He laughed. “How old are you?”
“I’m 23,” you answered. “And I’m Y/n.”
“I’m Lando,” he held his hand out to be shaken. “Nice to meet you.”
“NIce to meet you too,” you smiled, shaking his hand. “Congratulations on the year you’ve had.”
“You watch F1?”
You nodded. “My mom has been into it since she was a kid, she gave that to me, so… yeah.”
“Who’s your favourite driver?” he smirked and you chuckled. 
“Nico Hulkenberg,” you smirked. 
He chuckled. “Understandable,” he smiled, nodding. “Mila is probably off somewhere trying to destroy your set, I should probably go grab her.”
You both got up and smiled at each other. “It was nice to meet you.”
“It was nice to meet you too, Prince Charming,” you joked, he giggled. 
And that was that. 
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For the next few days, Lando could not get you out of his head. You were funny, kind, beautiful, good with Mila, everything he wanted in a person, yet he’d let you slip away. You weren’t even on social media, but he followed the company’s instagram and some of your friends to see pictures of you. He decided, once the season ended, he’d go back and find you. Maybe he really could become your Prince Charming. 
He joined the rest of the crowd in their standing ovation as you bowed, smiling brightly. He waited around and followed a few more people backstage to finally see you again. 
“Lando?” you questioned as you looked at him from behind. “What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to see you again,” he shrugged. “Happy holidays.”
You smiled. “So it is true,” your eyes shone with a hint of mischief. “You did follow the company account.”
He screwed his face up in a half-smile-half-grimace, he’d been caught. “You don’t have a public account, thought it would be weird to follow you on your private one.”
You chuckled. “I would’ve let you follow me,” you told him. “You are my Prince Charming, right?”
He beamed. “Right,” he nodded. “Dinner?”
“Let me get out of costume,” you agreed. You started to walk off and he didn’t follow, unsure what to do. You turned back and grabbed his hand. “Come on!”
He was very happy he had brought Mila to the ballet.
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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)
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maybeelse · 10 hours ago
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"Pathetic mortals! Hear my demands," Corvina intones, feathers raised is a posture of challenge, "and despair, for the will of the night is unstoppable! Your compatriot has made a mockery of our alliance! You must," her voice shifts, a faint squawk betraying a feather-covered blush, "make her let go of me."
Maria, Halberd of Noon, peers up at Corvina. The villainess, once barely taller than her, has grown beyond all reason in the weeks since the Tremorlord ate the sun and plunged the world into an eternal and moonless night. "Is Anne being a problem?"
"Yes! I mean, uh," she tries to compose herself, "yes. Remove her, lest a worse fate befalls her! I will drop her in the ocean to freeze, see if I don't."
"Why don't you ask her yourself?"
"S-she just talks about wanting me to eat her! It's creepy! You deal with it!"
"… sure," Maria sighs. "Where is she, anyway?"
Corvina gestures vaguely towards her frankly excessive body. "Somewhere? I don't know. You find her."
Maria stares at Corvina, entirely unimpressed, and the former harpy hides her head under one of her wings. Another dozen wings flutter spasmodically along her body; her proprioception still hasn't caught up to the glut of power engorging her body. Perhaps it could be comical if it wasn't a reminder of how badly screwed they all are.
"Anne! Get out here!"
"don't wanna," the distant reply comes.
"Got you," Maria murmurs.
It's not that easy, of course. Getting to her requires navigating more of their former and future foe's body than Maria every wanted to be aware of, and Corvina keeps on reflexively hitting her with her wings (tolerable) or trying to disembowel her with whichever foot is nearest (irritating). The worst part is Maria's allergies. Harpies generate nearly as much dander as pigeons, and Corvina has not been taking proper care of herself.
Her eyes are watering and her nose is running when she finally finds Anne, Sword of the Morning, curled up under one of Corvina's wings. Several of Corvina's clawed feet hold her aloft, cradling her as delicately as a fresh-plucked flower.
"Hey, sis," Anne murmurs, shifting slightly. "Sup?"
"… wait, I thought Corvina didn't want you here?"
"Yeah. She hates me, you know that."
"But—"
"But," Anne smiles, "her body doesn't. S' a good cuddler."
"… that doesn't make any sense, Anne."
"Does. Wanna join?"
"No, Anne. I want you to stop pissing her off. We really can't afford it."
"Mmm," Anne yawns, "Can't afford to stop either, though …"
"Explain?"
"Why should I? You already know all of it, and I'm tired."
The three Guardians of Day—two, now, since the Shield of Dusk defected to the Tremorlord's forces—have never liked talking about the exact details of their powers. They wax strongest during the hours they are bound to (as does Corvina, their villainous reflection), and wane as time's passage draws them away, but …
The fact that they still have some power during eternal night raises questions with indelicate answers. Questions like, well, "where does it come from?" And "how do we get more?"
Dusk's defection came after she asserted one specific answer, and rejected it entirely.
"… you can find someone else to cuddle, Anne."
"Don't wanna. Besides," she moves to flop onto the ground and Corvina's claws close around her—wrapping tight around her waist, her neck, and her thighs, pinning her in place like the delicious morsel that she is. "Don't think 'vina will let me."
"Yeah, okay," Maria grouses, "fuck this. Just stop asking her to eat you."
"S'not my fault that she's such a prude."
The villain decides to do the classic "team up to defeat a common foe" trope but it's been taking a lot longer than they had expected,the heroes are getting emotionally attached and it's starting to get weird.
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creamflix · 14 hours ago
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christmas event looks so kewl! can i have sukuna + mistletoe (naughty) please? 😽😽
you’ve received a gift! ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ want your own gift? ・:〃➜ click here! 
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SUKUNA has never understood your fascination with christmas. 
the baubles, the garlands, the lights strung across the tree — it all seems excessive and nonsensical to him. when he catches you draping the tree with shiny ornaments, your tongue peeking out in concentration, he’s half-tempted to ask if this is some kind of sacrificial ritual. 
but he keeps quiet. mostly because watching you enjoy yourself so thoroughly feels... oddly satisfying.
the mistletoe, though? that’s where things get complicated.
he first notices it dangling from the ceiling in the entryway. you don’t bother explaining it, brushing past with a knowing smile, leaving him to squint suspiciously at the strange green plant. 
“warding off spirits?” he mutters to himself. “what kind of pathetic charm is this?”
of course, his assumptions are shattered after an admittedly frustrating deep dive into google, of all things. the man searches everything from “green thing christmas ceiling” to “magic christmas plant meaning” before finally landing on an answer. 
and when he learns the truth? his mood sours instantly.
a kiss. it’s some absurd tradition that demands he kiss you underneath this thing. 
you’re his; he doesn’t need some ridiculous plant giving him permission. but then again... maybe it’s not so bad if it’s an excuse to remind everyone else of that fact.
the next time you catch someone entering a room under mistletoe, sukuna is already there, arms crossed, posture tense. his crimson gaze flickers between the plant and the unsuspecting victim like a predator sizing up its prey.
“don’t even think about it,” he growls lowly, stepping deliberately into their path. his presence alone is enough to make them reconsider, slinking away without so much as a glance in your direction.
“suku!” you scold, but your amusement betrays you.
“don’t ‘suku’ me,” he snaps, scooping you into his arms and positioning you directly under the mistletoe. “you think i’m going to let anyone else get near you? this is my right.”
his lips claim yours in a possessive kiss, fierce and unrelenting, as if marking you all over again. and when you pull back, breathless, his lips merely shift to your jaw, trailing downward in a heated path.
“sukuna,” you murmur, half-laughing, half-scolding. “that’s enough! it’s just a silly tradition.”
“no,” he grumbles, hands sliding to your waist and tugging you closer. “it’s a tradition that involves my human. and if some stupid plant demands it, i’m not going to stop at one kiss.”
his lips find the sensitive spot on your neck, and you can feel his sharp teeth scrape teasingly against your skin. one of his hands creeps beneath your shirt, splayed warm and possessive across your back.
“kuna, stop! your hands —”
“my hands are exactly where they belong.” his voice is a low rumble, a mix of defiance and desire. but he finally relents, letting out a dramatic sigh as he pulls away, though his hands linger at your waist.
“fine. you win. for now.”
you shake your head, biting back a smile. “you’re impossible.”
“and you love it.” his smirk is smug, but there’s something softer in the way his thumb brushes against your hip, his gaze lingering on your face.
truthfully, he still doesn’t understand half your human traditions, but if they involve you — your laughter, your blush, your kisses — he supposes they aren’t so bad.
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whoreforsexymen · 3 days ago
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Guess who just finished acrane and is writing this with actual tears on my face!!! I need some Vander fluff- i think i will emplode- it doesnt even have to be anything specific i just need comfort after that shit storm 😭
Yes my child. Mommy will make good on your request.
And don’t even get me started on S2. I can’t bring myself to watch it yet. I’m still not even over S1 and I KNOW for a fact it’s not even as sad as I’ve learned S2 is.
But shhhhh, Mommy’s got you. Here’s the fluff you asked for.
Piltover’s Got Nothin’ On You | Vander Fluff Flash 🍺🤎
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(GIF cred: me <3)
Pairings: Vander x GN!Reader
Pronouns: No pronouns used.
Rating: Slight NSFW because Reader and Vander are presumably half naked in bed, so 18+!! MDNI !! You WILL be blocked
Word Count: 524
Summary: Vander is enjoying a nice cozy morning with you, and reminds you exactly how he feels.
Tags: A little spicy, just because it’s a little maturely themed if you whip out a magnifying glass, Fluff, Tooth Rotting Fluff, Domesticity W/ Vander, OoeyGooeyRomance
Notes: None, just enjoy. Take a breather. 🤍
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“Would I lie to you?” The question hung in the air, light yet loaded with meaning. It was enough to send a familiar flutter through your stomach, a soft, nervous twinge that made your heart skip. The sensation was strangely uncomfortable, yet in the most endearing way—like a gentle reminder of how much he could still make you feel, even in the simplest of moments.
You lay atop the man you were speaking to, both of you bare-chested, the warmth of your skin pressing together in an effortlessly comforting way. The coolness of the morning air was a distant contrast to the heat between you, a calm presence that made the moment feel serene to say the least. His steady breathing beneath you gave the moment a gentle rhythm, and for a while, there was nothing but the simple unspoken connection between you both before you responded.
“Maybe. Depends.” You tease, your words playful but laced with a hint of mischief.
His response is immediate—his large hand slipping into yours with a quiet sense of contentment, the warmth of his grip grounding you. There’s a comfort in the way he holds you, as if, in this moment, the world outside doesn’t matter. His touch speaks volumes, the unspoken understanding between you both more powerful than anything words could convey.
“Someone clearly thinks highly of me,” he teases back, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. Before you can answer, he leans down and places a soft, lingering kiss on your forehead, his touch tender and full of quiet affection. The sweetness of the gesture catches you off guard, a simple act that somehow feels like the most genuine expression of his feelings—a quiet reminder of how deeply he cares.
You smile, a soft laugh slipping from your lips.
“All I was saying is that, as much as Piltover has its minor flaws—“ you begin, your voice light with amusement as you’re stopped short.
“Appalling flaws, really. Humongous, towering flaws,” he interrupts playfully, his tone teasing as he presses a gentle kiss to the back of your hand, still held firmly in his.
You can’t help but laugh at his wit.
“Yes, huge, appalling flaws. But despite all that, Topside is stunning at night. The lights here are beautiful, too, but nothing compares to the glow of Piltover.” You add, trying to make your point clear: a city’s beauty can stand on its own, no matter what darkness might lurk behind the scenes.
He regards you for a long while, his gaze lingering on your face with an amusement that never quite fades. The seconds stretch on, almost too long—what might seem like a few moments in the world’s rhythm becomes an eternity in his eyes. Each shift in your expression, each subtle change in your posture, draws him in, holding his attention as if time itself has slowed. And yet, even as eternity unfolds, it’s still not enough. To him, no amount of time could ever truly capture all he wants to see.
“That may be true,” he says, his voice steady, the smirk never quite leaving his face.
“But Piltover’s got nothin’ on you.”
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ylangelegy · 2 days ago
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After MAMA awards I'M VERY PROUD OF MY BOYS and seeing Woozi crying, nooooo my mannnnn
So can I request Woozi or anyone after awards, all members celebrating with their partners hehe LOVE YOUUU!!!
PLEASE PLEASE 🛐🛐
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🍑 i will really live the rest of my life repaying you.
you don't see seungcheol until the next day. such is the life of the general leader, it seems— the never-ending heralding, the non-stop worrying. he deals with his boys, first, then the fans, then the staff. but once that's all done, he's at your front door, collapsing into your arms before he's even past through the entryway. it doesn't matter how many awards its been. he is still overwhelmed by it every single time, and you are a soft place to land. he comes home to you and whispers the sweetest nothings in your hair. i'm so proud of them and they did so well and they're so happy. as he holds you tight— like you're the only thing keeping him upright— it's your turn to let him hear those words. i'm so proud of you. you did so well. you get to be happy, too.
the jeonghan on the other end of the video call has been quiet for the most part of the past half-hour. you'd be more worried if you hadn't already predicted where his solemness was coming from. "hannie? still with me?" you prompt gently, and he finally tears his gaze away from the ceiling to look back at you. "yeah. yeah, i'm with you," he answers. a beat. there are some things you no longer have to say out loud. how he wishes he was there. how he misses them and tries not to let it show. instead, you give him a reminder that's quiet and firm. "this is yours, too," you say. this award. this moment. these boys. all still his. there's a ghost of a smile on his face as he mumbles, "right. of course. how could i forget."
joshua likes keeping lists. a running one he has with you is that of gratitude, where the two of you try to end each day with acknowledgements of what you're grateful for. you're expecting a whole essay for him after tonight. he surprises you by keeping it short, sweet, and straight to the point. in no particular order, he types out into your shared note. music, the boys, you. hours later, he adds a footnote like it'd occurred to him as an afterthought: i'm always grateful for those three, but especially so today.
"look at them!" jun shrieks. his video call pixelates, either from spotty connection or his sudden burst of enthusiasm. you have half a mind to warn him that he may get a noise complaint again, but this time it'd be completely warranted. he's positively vibrating with excitement, his eyes glued to the livestream of his twelve brothers ascending the stage for their second award of the night. "look at them," he repeats, and this time his voice is more reverent than anything. you could comply, could do as he's asking, but your eyes are trained elsewhere. and look at you, too, you want to say. look at you and all that you've done to get this far.
even though it's been an exceptionally long day, soonyoung comes home brimming with adrenaline. he does dance routines in your living room. he jogs around your block until you beg him to just come back. he sings in the shower before collapsing onto the bed next to you, where he suddenly becomes boneless. the glow of pride stays even as the exhaustion hits. he pulls you against him and cuddles right into you. to soonyoung, this is as good as any trophy: the peace that comes with falling asleep next to you.
wonwoo has no destination in mind. he has a car with a full tank, and a playlist of all his favorite songs, and you in the passenger seat. that's more than enough. you pass through tunnels with warm lighting; expressways where he keeps the windows down so the wind will whip at your hair. occasionally, you'll stop to grab a snack or take a photo of something interesting on the side of the street. after hours of just going in circles, he'll ask, "should we keep driving?" even though he knows you'd never deny him this. this. his little celebration in the form of getting 'lost' with you.
nobody hears from jihoon for the next couple of days. the managers are worried, but the boys all just shake their heads and say that he's in good hands. which means: he's wherever you are. the two of you don't talk about his speech, about his public breakdown, because both things make him want to hide forever. instead— he sleeps in. he watches movies from months ago that he promised he'd get to. the two of you go on walks at night, and have breakfast at lunch time. the vicious cycle will soon have to begin again. jihoon knows that. but for a few, precious moments, his heart is not a heavy burden because it's safe and sound in your capable hands.
seokmin takes you on the textbook definition of your perfect date. a shopping spree? here's his black card. an amusement park? he'll rent out lotte world for the day, if he must. you're understandably baffled. he's the one who just won big, and yet you're the one being treated like royalty. try to resist and he'll only push back on you. seokmin already spoils you enough as is, but this is just a little more over-the-top than the day-to-day stuff. at the end of it all, his rationale is as sweet as it gets. "you keep me going," he tells you. "and so you deserve just as much credit as i do."
mingyu has always liked to celebrate with a meal. you'd expected his usual fare of some swanky restaurant or high-end café, but, this time, he asks for only free reign of your kitchen. he props his phone up against the salt shaker and pulls up a youtube video before flashing you his best 'just-trust-me' grin. your trust is not misplaced; the two of you do manage to bake the celebratory cake, though whether it's any good is an entirely different story. the end result doesn't matter as much as the process. mingyu is happiest about the flour marks on your cheeks, about the kisses he steals while you whisk eggs. it's not a birthday cake, but you light up a candle for him anyway. just for the hell of it. "make a wish," you tease. he's looking straight at you as he blows at the flame.
minghao asks for a beach day. the two of you set out for the nearest one. maybe the sand is a bit rocky; the shore, lacking in shells. he doesn't care. he only seeks out the sun beating on his back, the saltwater clinging to his skin, the first punch of air after emerging from the water. as the stolen weekend winds to a close, the two of you sit at the point where the water lap at your toes. neither of you have to speak. here, minghao lets the tide wash away the ache of homesickness. here, minghao redefines 'home' as a future with the boys of his youth, with the music that is as constant as the waves— and with you, of course.
the ferry ride to jeju is about four or so hours long, but seungkwan doesn't mind. there's just something so right about getting on the first vessel that will take him back where he has family waiting with a homecooked meal and a play-by-play of the award show. besides, the ferry means having four hours of uninterrupted leisure time with you. the pair of you literally have nowhere else to be except this boat and this point in time, which seungkwan is a little guilty to be so happy about. he's a glutton for your time and attention, and these ferry rides— these trips home— remind him just how much he likes taking the scenic route.
vernon treats it almost like it's just another day. almost. you're thrown off by his initial nonchalance, by the lack of utter fanfare in the way he asks you out to lunch and the two of you barely discuss the recent accolades. when you prompt him about it, you realize it's not because of arrogance or ignorance. "we're just doing what we always do," he says with an expression of mild confusion. winning?, you almost inquire half-jokingly, but that's only part of it. he elaborates, "we were just ourselves, y'know?"
when chan suggests a rage room, you're understandably confused. the wrath-based activity doesn't seem like the most optimal celebration, but you're not about to cramp his style. the two of you queue the angriest songs known to man before smashing some defunct appliances and throwing empty bottles against a wall. once your time is up, chan looks at you with that familiar spark of fire in his eyes. that dedication you fell in love with, that passion that has always burned bright. "again?" he asks, and you know it's not just the rage room that he's asking for.
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eviesaurusrex · 1 day ago
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Escaping | Azriel x High Fae
summary: Azriel carries his mate off to a much-needed picnic, away from her duties at the Court of Dreams.
word counter: 3.2k
warnings: none, pure fluff, Az being a simp for his woman, mentions of reader being an empath/reader having empathic abilities, Az’s pet names being always accompanied by “my” (bc he needs to remind himself constantly that she’s indeed his), reader is part of the Night Court ever since
author’s note: This is also my first time writing anything for ACOTAR, so please be gentle with me, but I just had to, okay? Az deserves every ounce of happiness I can offer him. Also: This is my first time writing and uploding anything in a minute, so this is definitely not perfect
Dividers are made by @enchanthings and @sweetmelodygraphics <3
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He had planned this little escape for weeks now, always trying to find the perfect moment to whisk his mate away between duties and obligations, only to grant her and himself a much-needed break from quite literally everything. His shadows had been restless ever since, just as their wielder, the growing stress and frustration traveling along their strong mating bond only a figment of an indication of how she grew to feel every morning she awoke to tend to the court and their cause to protect and free Prythian in the War looming on the horizon.
And today had been finally the perfect day—due to Rhys’ helping hand after he had seen the growing and building anxiety of his brother.
“Is it not strange how adamant Rhys has acted earlier? I think it’s weird. Do you think I should go and check up on him later? Maybe trying to ease his mind? I think I should.” Her sweet, melodic voice filled the warm air, and a rare chuckle escaped the spymaster at her fast-working mind. Gently, he took the blanket out of her arms, placing it over the arm that already carried the basket filled with all her favorites, and tenderly, his free arm found its home around her waist, pulling her closer to his side.
A perfect fit. It was as if the Mother and the Cauldron had molded them to fit just as perfectly as two puzzle pieces. Made for one another… He still couldn’t grasp how his lifelong wish had been answered and granted after so many centuries.
Azriel’s head dipped to press a lingering kiss to her temple, his nose slightly buried in her soft strands, the soothing scent overpowering the scents wafting around them. “Will you scold me if I tell you how I asked him to give us at least today to ourselves?” His voice was soft, tender, a loving and humored edge to it. Hazel eyes began to twinkle as she looked up at him, meeting his gaze, not surprised in the slightest at his revelation, and the teasing twinkle in her eyes in return made his lips twitch into a smile. “Did you now?” She teased and nudged his side, tickling Az because she knew of every existing weak spot—the only person aside from Cassian and Rhys. Her growing smile made him feel light, free, and still, it was the most exhilarating thing he had ever achieved in his long life; felt as if his heart might explode any second when she turned and stretched slightly to press a kiss to his jawline. Reaching further wasn’t possible with the towering male walking beside her. “Thank you, my love.” Only a whisper, but loud enough to travel to his ears, accompanied by the warm and fuzzy feeling sent down the bond by her.
Another pull with the arm around her waist put her even closer—if that was even possible—and Azriel couldn’t hold back the urge within him to kiss her soft lips he had already kissed so often ever since they had accepted their mating bond. Still, it wasn’t often enough, in his opinion. Giving in, the shadowsinger stopped their path in the hidden passageway towards the lush green rolling hills along the coast of Velaris and slowly bent his body, letting their noses run alongside one another. “Nothing to thank me for, my darling,” he hummed, lips almost already touching in the softest of kisses, and he felt her fingers run through the short hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer to her and letting their lips melt into one. Neither he nor she could tell where the kiss started and where it ended, where his lips began and hers ended.
The low rumble of her stomach put a pause to their antics, and Az hummed once again before entwining their fingers and continued on their path. “Let’s find a place where we can ease that growl, my darling.”
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Wildflowers of all kinds surrounded the place they had finally settled on—the glittering ocean right next to them, the rolling green hills as far as sight could reach, and Velaris in the close distance, beautiful as it had always been. Az had made himself comfortable on the blanket, the picnic basket opened right next to him, his body propped up on his forearms, and his eyes followed his mate as she strolled through the flowers. He could see her fingertips gracing the soft petals that stretched their colorful heads towards the sun, his shadows slowly, almost lazily winding around her wrist and fingers, always keeping her company, making sure she was alright. Not that Azriel minded their own ways, but sometimes he suspected they might abandon him entirely for her if they had the chance—and the shadowsinger couldn’t blame them either. He would do the same if it meant being at her side at all times.
“Eat at least a bite,” he now called over to her as she picked the first flower. She only spared a quick glance at him, but her radiant smile couldn’t fool him, nor could it hide the roll of her eyes. “Yes, yes. Only a minute, love.” Azriel himself rolled his eyes now, but the tuck at his lips was too strong to withstand it. Not when they were alone, not when she was the cause of that rare smile sneaking its way onto his face.
So, he watched her while already eating some of the fresh berries, patiently waiting, eyes moving when she moved toward the next flower in full bloom, bending down to pick her, placing the delicate thing in the soft embrace of her arm he knew wouldn’t dare crush her new possession. She wasn’t violent or cruel to beings who couldn’t defend themselves, who didn’t possess a single malicious thought in their entire body. And even for those who might commit evil deeds, she still held compassion if necessary. By the Cauldron, she even had accepted him from the very beginning of their friendship all those centuries ago when Rhys had brought her into the Court of Dreams, right after the War had been won.
A sigh left him when she finally strolled toward him in her pretty flowy dress, hair flowing in the warm breeze, her smile growing the closer she got to him. “What am I supposed to do with you, hm?” Az had pushed himself from his arms into a sitting position, legs slightly crossed, an arm resting on his muscular thigh, while the other reached for her, enveloping her fingers as she sank onto the blanket and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. The sound of his wings stretching and rustling behind him accompanied her adorable chuckle, and he almost melted at the sight of her shining eyes when she pressed his scarred palm against her cheek, her lips leaving a warm mark on it, letting him forget about the pain of the past in an instant.
She had that power over him.
“Az, you had more than four centuries to get used to my antics.” Grinning, her lips pressed another set of kisses to his palm before letting his hand sink onto her knee, where it immediately started to wander and found its place on her thigh, squeezing it tenderly. “I should know by now, you mean?” A nod followed his question, grin still prominent on her lips, but he felt her concentration slip toward the many flowers she had sprayed over the blanket in front of her, and her soft and delicate fingers had already started to weave some of them together. “Perhaps even a lifetime isn’t long enough,” he dared to hum and tease, moving closer toward her side and holding a strawberry in front of her lips. The tip of Azriel’s nose nudged her temple, and she took a bite, sighing in satisfaction. “Perhaps.” The sweet berry muffled her words, and without thinking or even considering he was prepared for it, the woman scooted closer and leaned backward, pressing her back against her mate’s strong chest—because he had been ready. He was always ready and always there if she needed or craved anything.
Even though the bond had taken its sweet time before it had finally snapped into place, they had been close from the beginning, a mutual feeling of closeness and understanding the root and foundation of their slowly blooming friendship. And over the decades and centuries, they had started to learn to know one another. Now, with the bond in its rightful place, it all was merely heightened; no longer a want to fulfill anything they wished for, but an urging need. So Az just knew without thinking when she needed his arms wrapped tightly around her body, his chest pressing against her back like a steadfast wall in a sea of uncertainty and fear.
His chin rested on her right shoulder, the strong and powerful wings softly tucked behind his back, granting the sunlight to kiss and warm her skin while she weaved flower after flower in a steadily growing circle.
“When all of this is over…” The soft voice of his mate traveled alongside the warm breeze. “When all is over, I’d like to leave for a while. Just… the two of us. Somewhere enjoying life itself, forgetting about War, bloodshed, and intrigues. Healing and growing,” she continued even softer, reminding him once again of her calm and peaceful nature, and Azriel felt how she longed for all those things after everything that had happened in the past fifty years. He didn’t dare to think about all that had happened Under the Mountain when she had been forced to live there, didn’t try to recollect everything she had shared with him in those days after Rhys and she had finally returned to Velaris.
All that was important was the exploding sensation of relief since she had followed Rhys over the threshold in the House of Wind, stepping out of the shadow of his broad back and came running right to him. That immaculate sensation had been his companion since that day.
Burrowing his face into the warm crook of her neck, the spymaster released a deep breath. “Whatever you wish, my darling,” he whispered against her skin, making her giggle and squirm in his grasp. “Az! Stop it, or my flower crown will be ruined!” He hid the growing smirk against her skin and nipped at one of her weak spots, making it tickle once more. “They always turn out beautiful.” Azriel could practically feel the playful roll of her eyes at his words, and dutifully, he picked the next flower for her to weave into the growing circle before a small lemon tart found its way to her lips, reminding his mate that they indeed had something else in mind when they had left the House of Wind earlier.
The deep, soft sighing after the first bite of the masterfully baked tart warmed his heart, and Azriel didn’t object in the slightest when the small cake was eaten within a heartbeat, her sweet tooth demanding even more after weeks of relinquishment because they had all been so busy with the preparations for the meeting with Prythian’s High Lords.
“Another one?” He whispered quietly as the shadows now surrounded their legs, resting like they did. “Do we have one of these tiny strawberry cakes we had for Starfall?” Immediately, the memory of the last festivities occupied his mind as he looked for the mentioned dessert and presented it to her like an offering to the gods in his open, scarred palm. “My Lady.” She chuckled at that and abandoned the almost finished flower crown with a gentle “Thank you, my Lord,” only to take the delicate cake and took a savoring bite out of it.
“Have I ever told you how beautiful you looked at Starfall? More radiant as the stars…” Az’s voice trailed off into the distance, pictures of that night clouding his mind once again. As she turned her head to look at him with that one smile entirely reserved for his eyes, he pulled back and let her kiss his lips in a heart-wrenchingly soft kiss. “You told me that countless times, my love. Especially when you see the dress hanging in the armoire.” She grinned at that, making him almost blush. “But do I need to remind you how handsome and dashing you looked that night? All those ladies turning and twisting their heads as soon as you walked through the room…” Even though she knew that no one could take her mate, the bitter feeling of jealousy boiled in her blood for just a second before it vanished at the glowing and warm, but also shadowy feeling of their bond, reminding her once again that they were bound for the rest of their existence.
“No need to be jealous, my darling. There was never anyone but you, and there will never be anyone but you.”
His index finger under her chin moved her face upward to face him, skin touching skin and lips brushing over even softer lips. “I know,” she whispered against Azriel, and for a moment, she leaned her forehead against the strong line of his jaw, feeling him pressing a tender kiss on her hairline.
A rumble in the far-off distance let them look up at last, and both watched the building and rolling clouds over the sea, knowing that rain was a mere thought away. But still, they took their time.
Az continued to feed them both, watching her tirelessly weaving flower after flower into the crown, humming a tune they had danced to countless times by now and savoring the warmth radiating off his body. “Another one for Elain?” Azriel dared to ask as she seemed to be done. All the flowers she had gathered were woven into a beautiful, intricate pattern, and none were wasted. His mate had started to bring Elain flowers and plants in all their forms, especially ones only growing in their lands and not behind the wall, explaining their nature, natural habitats, uses, and sometimes hidden beauty. She was so soft and gentle with the young female that Azriel had to ask himself—more often than not, if he was honest—if she would be like this to their children if they ever were allowed that sort of happiness.
He let her sit up and turn onto her knees, holding the crown in her delicate fingers. She shook her head, an unsure smile now surfacing on her lips, as she softly placed it on top of his dark hair. “I never made one for you, my love.” He was stunned, not daring to move nor touch the petals now resting on his head. “You don’t have to keep it, of course. If you don’t like it, I can just bring it to Elain, and we’ll forget about it. It’s silly anywa-” He stopped her right then and there by pulling her close and kissing her fiercely, only holding himself back from roaring down their bond and scaring the living daylights out of her. He took great pride in the fact how breathless his mate was when Az finally ended the kiss, how gleaming her eyes were when she looked at him, how the blush that had crept to her cheeks made them glow, how her fingers gripped the fabric over his chest to steady herself. “Don’t you dare take it,” he growled and kissed her once more, shorter this time, less desperate, and still tickled those delicious sounds out of her body he still kept reveling in, even after all this time.
The first drop falling from the heavens made them part, and while she started to collect their things to pack them safely into the basket and fold the picnic blanket, Azriel spread his wings to protect his mate from the mighty raindrops. When they were ready to winnow to the barriers of the House of Wind, the summer downpour had already picked up its intensity and soaked the two from head to toe. However, their laughter still lingered over their sacred space of Velaris even after they winnowed away.
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Feyre’s brows creased in worry as she looked out the many windows in the palace atop the mountain, overlooking Velaris during the downpour that had been foreseen. The heavy drops splattered against the glass, making it difficult to discern any shape moving in the distance. She knew the rain wouldn’t harm them, but the thunderstorm rolling over the hills induced an anxiety within her that she could barely contain.
“Feyre, darling?”
Rhys’ voice let her spin away from the windows, facing her mate who had stood from his desk he had worked on for the past couple of hours, and walked closer toward her, worry furrowing his forehead. “What is wrong?” He wrapped his strong arms around her body, and the High Lady sighed deeply as she sank into the embrace. “Nothing, I…” The first roaring thunder let her pause for a moment. “Az and YN haven’t returned yet.” Violet eyes gazed out of the window, brows slightly furrowed in concentration as he tried to make out the shapes in the gloomy light of the early evening.
Then, a smile spread across his handsome face, and Feyre turned to see what had happened. “They are now. Come, my love,” the High Lord coaxed his mate toward the door to meet the pair down the hall to greet them. She followed him without hesitation, needing to see for herself that both her friends returned without harm, and had to know if they enjoyed their afternoon, needing all the raunchy details YN would spill over a glass of faery wine and a warm fire.
They only made it atop the stairwell leading down into the hall that housed the balcony primarily used to enter the House of Wind, and the pair watched a dripping YN pulling a not-less-dripping Azriel inside, a laugh dancing on her lips.
The Illyrian shook the rain off his shoulders and wings, eyes entirely focused on the brightly smiling High Fae before him. Without a thought, he let the basket drop to the floor, not sparing a single second for its whereabouts after because his entire being narrowed down to the bond beating in his chest, demanding intimacy, closeness, with the female he desired and loved more than life itself. A shriek escaped YN between laughter as Az playfully pounced on her, wrapping her in his strong arms and lifting her off the ground in one smooth motion, moaning deep in his throat at the first taste of her lips drenched in rain droplets.
As he carried her down the hall toward their shared bedchambers in long, purposeful strides, flower crown still proudly atop his head, YN laughed: “Az, the basket!” The pair above the stairs could only hear him say, “It can wait until I’m drunk and delirious on you,” before a door closed, and Feyre finally allowed the giggle to escape her she had held onto for so long.
Rhys shook his head with a humored grin, pulling the female next to him closer to his chest. “My spymaster wearing a flower crown? I won’t ever let him forget it,” he chuckled deeply, amusement and happiness dancing across his face, especially as Feyre hit his chest in warning. “Don’t you dare tease him about it!” The male grinned at that, pulling her face toward him, and pressed a lingering kiss to her lips. “I can’t make such promises, Feyre darling unless you are interested in a little deal with your beloved mate.”
Now, it was her turn to let a laugh freely echo through the halls.
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Thank you everyone for reading! As usual: I'd love to read your thoughts and comments, perhaps you have an idea for a future Azriel - or any ACOTAR character - fanfiction you'd want me to write. Also, likes and reblogs are very much appreciated! <3
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maeedrg · 1 day ago
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NEW PIERCINGS ?
Gojo x nipples pierced reader
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ᯓ★
Synopsis : in which reader just got her nipples pierced, and wants to make it a surprise to her boyfriend. Well, he really liked it.
Words count : 3k
Warnings : fluff, swearing, smut, reader is fem, nipple play, half public sex, squirting, p in v, pet names, kinda jealous Gojo ?
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ Autor’s note : I got my nipples pierced this weekend, so I needed to do a fanfic about it.
。⋆˚⋆✩₊⋆˚。⋆♡⋆。⋆ ˚。⋆⊹⋆ ˚⋆。⋆✧⋆˚。⋆⋆ 。⋆˚⋆✩₊⋆˚。⋆♡⋆。⋆ ˚。⋆⊹⋆
Ouch. It’s so damn sensitive. Why is it so cold outside, anyways ? And the damn wind that goes through your clothes and hardens your nipples really wasn’t what you needed right now. Barely some minutes ago, you went to your favorite piercing shop, and got your breast pierced. On both sides. The fresh jewel on your flesh that gets colder because of the wind, reminds you how sensitive the area was for now. You sigh, sucking up a breath and deciding to look at your phone. You didn’t answer the texts of your boyfriend, after all. But you had a good reason. These new piercings were a surprise ! 
From ‘ Kakashi 2.0 : 
“I just ate 11 mochis, my belly hurts”
“nevermind I have room for more lol”
seen
“uh why aren’t you answering your beautiful boyfriend…. the fuck”
“alright girl in what position you guys are”
“HEY ARE YOU DEAD ?!!!!”
“The way I’m going to hollow purple this bitch you are with if you don’t answer right now”
seen
Oh oh. You can’t stop yourself from having a laugh escaping your lips. Both from silliness at Satoru’s text, and from nervousness. Yeah, maybe you did ignore him for half of the day… But hey, your excuses are valid ! And you didn’t think he would notice, since today he had a busy schedule, normally. As you walk back home, a bit like a truck, to avoid your clothes from brushing too often your nipples and the pain that comes with it, you decide to text back your boyfriend. The moment you start to type, suddenly two long arms wrap around your stomach and smash you against the chest of someone. You open wider your eyes, startled, but quickly relax when you recognize this familiar cologne that you love oh so much.
“Police, got the cheater ! What can you say to defend yourself, baby, uh ? I bet he didn’t even fuck you that well,” exclaims Satoru’s voice in your ear, pouting slightly and when you turn your head you can imagine how his eyebrows frown behind his blindfold.
“You scared me here !” you answer, breathing back normally and keeping your body rigid. Without knowing, the way he was hugging you from behind made the tissue of your clothes tighter. Which means hurting your sensitive breast. You bite the inside of your cheek to avoid hissing of pain.
“You are the one that scared me ! Why didn’t you answer for so long ? Didn’t you say you had nothing to do today, and would stay at home ?” continues your boyfriend, frowning and looking at you up and down. He directly notices how your body is tense. Weird…
“I wasn’t cheating on you, you idiot. But sorry for not answering, I had something to do,” you answer vaguely, taking off his arms from your waist. At first he keeps his iron grip around you, but sighs and loosen his hands when seeing your discomfort.
“Awww, you’re so mean. I still manage to text you when I’m killing curses, so what got you so busy to not be able to do it for a whole afternoon ?” he asks, pouting even more as he slides his hand in the small of your back while walking next to you towards your shared apartment.
You couldn’t tell him that you were occupied with going to the piercing shop (which was a bit far away from home), waiting your turn, then getting pierced, and everything that comes with it until… now. Yeah, it took longer than you thought. 
“Well, I'll tell you later,” you simply answer. Satoru opens his mouth and closes it back, frowning more and tightening his fingers on your hip. You open the door of the building at the same time, and he whines.
“What do you mean ? Is it a new way to torture me by testing my patience ?”
“Poor baby. The Great Gojo Satoru gets bullied by his girlfriend,” you roll your eyes saying that, grabbing his arm to pull him towards you and kiss his cheek. He immediately grins back at the contact of your lips against his cold skin.
“You gotta tell me quickly, then. If you don’t want to face the wrath of The Strongest…” he jokes, before taking your face and chastly kissing your lips mischievously. 
“I’m shaking from fear…” you tease back against his mouth.
A bit later, and after some silly back and forth, you force your boyfriend to wait in the bedroom while you go to the bathroom. Indeed, before showing him your surprise, you needed first to clean it from the small amount of dried blood. Even if Satoru was used to seeing gruesome things everyday, you insisted in your mind that you didn’t want it to be his first impression of your new decorated nipples. So you carefully wash them, with delicacy and care. You hiss slightly, trying to not move too much the jewel, the sensitivity of your skin making it a hard task. Once you are done, you put back your shirt on top and exit the washroom. 
At the sound of the door opening and closing, Satoru perks up and straightens back his seat on the bed. He looks at you, legs sprayed on manspread as he puts down his phone to the side.
“Took you long enough,” he complains.
“Don’t pout. Now are you ready to know the reason why your amazing girlfriend ignored you all afternoon ?” you ask teasingly, tilting your head to the side.
The white haired man quickly nods, eager to know. He even was bouncing his leg up and down, clearly impatient to finally have his answer. You smile, wider, and lift your shirt, exposing to your boyfriend your pierced nipples. Satoru pauses, and then slowly lifts his blindfold to reveal his blue eyes. The look on his face was something you needed to remember. You could feel his Six Eyes staring right back at your chest. 
“No way….” he whispers, cheeks slightly turning red and a cheeky grin forming on his lips as his pupils swing left and right to look at both.
“Yes way. You like it ?” 
He suddenly brings you closer, making you stand in between his legs as he analyzes your breast. He knew it like the palm of his hand, but he needed to discover it all over again now. He was fascinated, intrigued, biting his lower lip in excitement.
“I fucking love it. That’s so hot ! Why didn’t you tell me ? I would have come with you !” he cheers as he looks up at your face, then back down, then your face, then down. His long fingers help you remove your shirt completely, having free rein to touch your skin and admire your torso.
“I wanted to surprise you, that’s why,” you explain.
“Did it hurt ?” Satoru asks as his left thumb softly caresses the bottom of your breast, while the right one brushes your ribs.
“Yeah. But it was quick, to be honest. So it wasn’t that bad. But it’s very sensitive right now, even the brush of clothes can be uncomfortable or hurtful,” you describe as you recall the feeling of the needle, and how a hassle it was to walk down the street with your shirt and jacket touching them every second. 
“Sensitive, uh ?” he muses, his fingers about to touch your bundle of nerves, but you quickly snap it away. He pouts at your glare.
“Nuh-uh. No touching. Your hands aren’t washed, and it will hurt. Plus, I have to avoid touching the jewel or moving it as much as I can for one month,” you quickly explain, facing the sulking face of your man-child boyfriend. He opens wider his eyes at your words.
“One month ?!”
“One month, yes. My piercer said too that I can’t have any contact with… a mouth on it. For at least one month.”
The moment you say that, you see all colors leaving the already pale skin of Satoru. He couldn’t believe it. One of his favorite activities, which was sucking on your tits when having sex, was taken away from him. No way, no way ! He was doomed, cursed ! At what cost ? He couldn’t deny, it looked incredibly hot. But by seeing them, it made him crave touching them, toying with them, and exploring this new aspect of possible sensitivity on your body. That was like a new game to him ! And damn, he couldn’t even play with it for at least one month. That was hell on earth. Alright, maybe he was being a bit melodramatic right now. But Satoru liked to exaggerate when he couldn’t have what he wanted right on the spot.
“Y/n, you’re killing me here. That’s too looooong !”
“You gotta wait, love. Safety first,” you retort, shaking your head as he sighs theatrically, letting his face be buried in your stomach.
“I promise, when it’s healed enough, I’ll play with your tits so much you’ll cry for me to stop,” he pouts, muttering that, gazing back up at your face. You chuckle, caressing his hair. He really was a menace.
“Hey, don’t make me suffer here. I’m just doing what my piercer told me to do. He was clear about no contact-”, you start to say, before Satoru cuts you in the middle of your sentence, “he ?!”. 
You roll your eyes, trying to not laugh at his over exaggerated facial reaction. “Yes Satoru, he.”
“I can’t believe that you betrayed me like that… First you cheat on me with your piercer, and now I can't suck your tits for one month. What a tragedy ! The downfall of The Strongest…” he exclaims, dramatically falling backwards on the mattress behind him, bringing you to straddle him while he puts his free hand over his forehead as if he just fainted. 
“It’s literally his job ! You really are a drama queen…” you slightly chuckle, flocking his forehead and he whines at the pain. When he was with you, he really reminded you of a husky. Always being loud over every tiny inconvenience, or just any situation, to be honest.
“Well, maybe I can’t suck on the gorgeous boobs of my girlfriend, but I can still eat her out. Right ?” he suddenly states, lifting himself on his elbow and eying you down with his stupid wolfish grin of his. 
“Well, technically yes, but I didn’t shower so-”
“Perfect then !” he interrupts you as he flips you over, gently actually, to be sure to not hurt you, and then in a swift movement takes off your pants and pry open your thighs.
“Satoru, I still didn’t have time to shower !”
“You think I care ?” he answers as if you just said the dumbest thing ever, bringing your leg over his shoulder and kissing the inside of your flesh.
“Satoru…”
“That would be my distraction for one month, deal ?” he asks, eyes meeting yours as he kisses the top of your panties.
Oh, you were in for a ride. Of his face. 
જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ  
Heavens could be applause, time has come. You finally, finally could go back to your… activities with Satoru, as your piercings were healed enough. Through the weeks of healing, you realized that the myth of having this area pierced could possibly bring a higher sensitivity wasn’t fake. And your boyfriend was adamant on testing that right now. He was eager, way too eager, maybe. Satoru couldn’t wait, to the point that when you gave him the green light this morning by text, he decided that the moment he would finish his daily missions of exorcizing curses, he would do it.
Hell, he was being for real ! You were walking in the corridor of the campus, when a tall figure teleported right in front of you. You lift your head, a bit startled, and sigh when you realize it simply was your boyfriend.
“Satoru ? You already finished your miss- ah !” you get cut off the moment he grabs your legs and swings you over his shoulder, lifting you up and carrying you like that without a care in the world. His hand slaps your butt, staying on it to keep you steady as you now are hanging over him.
“I made it quick,” he simply answered in a tone of voice that meant business. Oh, the tension was high, very high.
He opens the door of an empty classroom, and closes it swiftly behind him, locking it in a soft thud. He puts you down on a table, looming over you.
“Love, it’s a classroom, what if some students enters-”
“Nobody will, I made sure of that,” he answers quickly, taking off his blindfold and looking at you with such hungry eyes that you shiver. Oh, the man was starved. 
He unbuttons your jacket and throws it on a chair, before doing so with your shirt while he smashes his lips against yours, not letting you answer him. There was no time to even talk, his mouth was eager. Why talking, anyways ? When he could instead please you like you both dreamed since the night you came back home with your little… surprise.
 His lips were moving against yours with need, and in no time you felt his cold fingers cup your breast. He presses himself in between your thigh, and at the same time his thumb caresses your hardened nipple, toying finally with the jewel. You open your eyes at the feeling, and let out a strangled moan of surprise. Fuck, it indeed was more sensitive than you remember it being before. After so long, this area was damn touch starved. And God, how good it felt, and that just from a small tiny touch.
He smiles against your lips, and presses his hard crotch against yours. Painfully hard, actually. Satoru bites your lower lip as he pinches your bundle of nerves, his other hand doing the same on the right side. His tongue invades your mouth and you quickly start to feel overwhelmed. He swallows your sweet moans of pleasure and whines of relief at the sensation. It started to feel warm, and you wanted more stimulation. Why was it so exciting ?
He chuckles and trails his lips down your neck, to your collarbone, tongue sliding towards your left tit. Without more useless teasing, his lips are on your nipple, and his tongue swirls around the jewel. You yank your head backwards, biting the inside of your cheek. His eyes are on you the whole time, drinking your cute facial reactions each time his tongue flickers on the top of your nipple, or on the way the jewel slightly moves left and right. He goes to suck on the right one, using his left hand to continue to stimulate both at the same time. 
“Feels good, uh ?”
You nod, not understanding how pleasurable it was. Because fuck, your body was on fire right now. The sensitivity of the area went skyrocket, and you squeeze your thighs around the hips of your lover as he continues to grind against your clothed cunt. He lifts a bit more up your skirt, allowing him more space to stimulate you down there as he eats your tits hungrily like the starved man he is.
“How cute,” he muses, sliding your panties on the side and pulling a bit down his pants to press his boxer against your slit. His voice rumbles against your piercing and makes you giddy. He was sucking on them so much it started to be sore, but you didn’t want it to stop, because you craved it to the bones.
You have no time to ride your pleasure that you feel his cock tapping a few times against your clit before smudging his precum and your wetness together, and then entering in one go inside your pussy. It went as easy as damn butter, you were so fucking soaked. And Satoru couldn’t help but roll down his eyes at the sensation, biting slightly your nipple to tease you and make you squeeze your walls around his dick. Just like the way he loved. Good, very good.
“So fucking tight-” he mutters, kissing back your lips to slide his tongue inside your mouth, using both of his hands to play with your breast now while he pounds quickly, chasing some relief and wanting to drive you faster to the edge. After all, it was risky, and you guys couldn’t fool around too long. He just wanted to make you cum first, to drive you slightly crazy. Tonight he would have all the time of the world to completely take care of you and your tits. Right now it was just… a trial.
“Wait, I’ll-” you babble, moaning louder as he tugs both piercings at the same time, thrusting hard inside your dripping walls. 
“Wait ? Nah,” he chuckles lightly, slamming his hips faster as he yanks your hair to allow him access to your neck, sucking on it and leaving a red mark. Well, that was inappropriate, other people could see it, but who cares. Satoru didn’t give a damn about that, anyways.
He slaps your tits before sucking back on them, gripping your ass to bring you even closer. You clench your pussy around his cock, the feeling overwhelming, his hot and wet mouth stimulating exactly where you wanted him too, his tongue working magic. Both the sensation of the coldness of the jewel, and the warmth of his tongue, was an amazing duality that made your head spin.
The pleasure was so good that you suddenly cum all over him, legs shaking and accidently wetting a bit of his boxer and the bottom of his shirt. You breath heavily, his lips kissing your tit before looking slowly back up at you while you come down your high. He smiles, still inside your cunt, not done yet with you, and straightens back as he bites his lower lip. He then asks : 
“Maybe I should get my nipples pierced too. What do you think, sweetheart ?” 
THE END 
235 notes · View notes
bellbery · 22 hours ago
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— The Heart That Remained (Vander x f!Reader)
Summary: A monster, once a beloved protector, now haunts the tunnels of Zaun. The creature is revealed to be Vander, twisted by pain and rage, leaving his daughters Vi and Jinx to grapple with the truth. As a battle unfolds, past memories and present dangers clash, forcing a choice between saving Vander’s humanity or ending his torment. Love, guilt, and hope intertwine in this intense, emotional confrontation.
Word Count: 5.2k (im a jerk for angst)
Content/Warning: Angst to Fluff, less mention y/n until the ending, a bit bloody?, AND VERY ANGSTY
🖋️ Author’s Note: AS I PROMISED I WOULD MAKE A ANGSTY FIC ABOUT VANDER, and i promise you its worth the while i did my best to put into detail of the character’s personality and the places. It took me 3 days and i’m very happy how it turned out! Before yall read this maybe someone you haven’t watched S2, there will be spoilers obv— and i recommend yall listen to Dead Island Trailer Theme song while reading this cause personally it juST MATCHED THE SCENE IT- i hope yall enjoy my writing this is my 2nd fic! Please comment your feedback and simply support me by like and reblogs! Thank you very much yall!<3
After the chaos of the Piltover Council meeting, guilt gnawed at you like a relentless, suffocating force. Deep down, you knew Jinx—Vander’s daughter—was the cause of the devastation that had torn through the heart of the city. You couldn’t escape the weight of the promises you’d made long ago: to protect Vi and Powder when they were still just children. Those vows now felt like shattered glass, each piece embedded in your soul. You had failed them. And now, hidden behind the mask of an investigator, you carried your shame like a cloak. It was the only armor that allowed you to survive, to push down the searing ache that never seemed to go away. Months passed, and you thought you had found your rhythm in the cold, distant monotony of your work. Then Ambessa hired you. The aftermath of the beast’s rampage in the prison—the blood, the carnage—shattered that fragile peace. It was the most grotesque thing you’d ever seen. The nightmare still burned in your memory, its horrors etched into your mind like permanent scars. The beast, its monstrous presence a cruel reminder of the violence lurking in every shadow, had torn through the fragile walls of your life, dredging up the dangerous ties to the past you couldn’t outrun.
“How could this beast come out of nowhere?” You whispered, the question hanging in the air like a death sentence. Ambessa’s gaze locked onto you, icy and unyielding. The weight of her authority pressed down on you, suffocating. She leaned forward, her voice low, controlled—laced with quiet menace. “You’re asking the wrong question,” she said, her words like a blade. “It doesn’t matter how it got here. What matters is that it’s here now. And we don’t have the luxury of waiting for answers. We deal with it. We don’t waste time wondering why or how—it’s already cost us too much.” She paused, her eyes narrowing, a flicker of impatience cutting through her otherwise steady demeanor. “If you want to stay in this game, you’ll find out who—or what—created this monster. And you’ll do it fast. Before it costs us more.” You nod, the weight of Ambessa’s words settling heavily in your chest. Without a second thought, you move past the cells, your gaze flicking over them with practiced detachment. You push down the swirling thoughts threatening to overwhelm you, focusing on the task at hand. But as you walk, something pulls your attention—a cell, its door locked with an unnerving sense of finality. Something about it doesn’t sit right, a tension building in your gut.
Before you can step closer to investigate, the soft, rhythmic chime of the elevator cuts through the silence. The doors slide open, and out steps Commander Caitlyn Kiramman, her posture rigid, her face set in the same steely expression you’ve come to recognize. She doesn’t glance at you immediately, but when she does, her eyes flicker with a mixture of curiosity and caution. “Commander,” you murmur, your voice steady but carrying the weight of the unspoken. You can’t help but wonder if she’s here to speak of the very thing that’s been gnawing at your thoughts—the beast, the violence, the past that refuses to stay buried. “How is your investigation?” Caitlyn’s voice was steady, her usual sternness masking the exhaustion you knew she carried. Her sharp blue eyes flicked over you, searching for any hint of progress. You hesitated, your gaze drifting back to the closed cell. “It’s… ongoing,” you replied, the words clipped, as your unease bubbled beneath the surface. She followed your line of sight, noticing your fixation. Without waiting for an invitation, Caitlyn strode past you, her footsteps purposeful, echoing in the silence as she approached the cell. “What is it about this one?” she asked, her tone even, though her curiosity was evident. You didn’t answer immediately, the heaviness in your chest growing. “It’s locked,” you said finally, the words feeling too small for the weight of your unease. “But it’s too quiet. Too… deliberate.” Caitlyn reached out, resting her hand lightly on the cold metal bars. “Let’s open it,” she said decisively, her command leaving no room for argument. The tension in her voice betrayed her own unease, though her face remained calm and unreadable.
As the cell door creaked open, the air grew heavy with an acrid, chemical tang. There, sitting upright in the dim light, was a figure that made your breath hitch—Dr. Reveck. His sunken, hollow eyes locked onto yours, recognition flashing briefly across his face. Then came the cold, calculating glare of someone who had already weighed and dismissed your worth. “You’re persistent,” he murmured, his voice low and rasping, as though it hadn’t been used in days. “But persistence doesn’t make you immune to mistakes.” His lips twitched, a ghost of a smile that never reached his eyes. “What are you here for? To make another mistake?” Before you could respond, Caitlyn’s sharp footsteps echoed through the corridor, her tone cutting the tension. “Dr. Reveck,” she began, her words laced with authority, “you’re going to answer for what you’ve done. Whatever experiments you’ve been running—whatever monsters you’ve unleashed—it ends now.” Reveck’s expression didn’t waver, though his gaze shifted to Caitlyn with a disconcerting calm. “Answers,” he said, almost mockingly. “The only people who demand them are those too weak to seek the truth themselves.” The sudden clang of metal doors opening at the end of the hall signaled Ambessa’s arrival. Her towering figure filled the space, the weight of her presence silencing any retort Caitlyn might have had. Her eyes swept the scene before resting on Reveck. “This is the man responsible?” she asked, her voice an authoritative rumble. Reveck tilted his head slightly, observing Ambessa with a detached curiosity. “And you are?” he asked, his tone clinical, as though dissecting her existence. Ambessa took a step closer, her imposing frame making the cramped cell feel even smaller. “I’m the one deciding whether you’re worth keeping alive,” she said, her voice unwavering. “And right now, you’re not making a good case.”
The tension in the room was palpable, your pulse pounding in your ears as you stood frozen, caught between these forces of will. Caitlyn glanced at you, her expression tight, as if silently willing you to act or speak. Dr. Reveck finally turned back to you, his gaze sharper now, as though seeing past your mask of authority to the pain you’d been carrying. “Tell me,” he said softly, almost conversationally, “are you here to find answers, or are you just running from your own failures?” Before you could answer Dr. Reveck’s cutting remark, the sharp clink of handcuffs broke the silence. Caitlyn had stepped forward, her features stern as she clasped the restraints over Reveck’s thin wrists. “You’ll answer for your crimes,” she said coldly. “But your cooperation might still buy you a sliver of mercy.” Reveck barely flinched, his pale eyes darting between Caitlyn and Ambessa as if calculating the odds of survival. He let out a low, humorless chuckle. “Mercy,” he echoed, his voice dripping with disdain. “A curious word coming from Piltover’s enforcers. Tell me, Commander Kiramman—how does mercy reconcile with the blood already on your hands?” Caitlyn’s jaw tightened, but before she could reply, Ambessa’s voice rumbled from behind her. “Enough.” Her tone brooked no argument as she stepped into the cell, her towering figure filling the cramped space. “Your investigation isn’t finished here,” she said, her eyes locking onto yours with a commanding weight. “You’ve uncovered the man, but not the monster.”
Reveck’s lips curled faintly, a reaction as subtle as it was unsettling. “The beast,” he murmured, as though savoring the word. “You think you’re hunting it, but it’s already closer than you realize. Closer than any of you would dare admit.” Ambessa ignored him, her gaze still fixed on you. “Find it,” she said firmly. “Before this trail goes cold and more lives are lost.”
Reveck’s smile widened slightly, his voice taking on a cryptic edge. “And when you find it,” he said, his tone almost taunting, “you might not like what you uncover.” The weight of his words hung heavy in the air as you exchanged a brief, tense glance with Caitlyn. Without another word, Ambessa turned and walked toward the cell door, her presence commanding the attention of everyone in the room. Caitlyn followed, her hand lingering on her holstered weapon as if still on edge. You stayed behind for a moment longer, your gaze locked with Reveck’s, searching for something in his unflinching expression—a hint of truth, or maybe just an answer you weren’t ready to face.
You stepped out of the cell, the cold air biting against your skin. The echo of Ambessa’s commanding words and Reveck’s cryptic warnings swirled in your head, mixing with Caitlyn’s sharp presence. Every step away from the cell felt heavier, the pressure of what you’d just witnessed settling into the pit of your stomach. Reveck’s words wouldn’t leave you. “You think you’re hunting it, but it’s already closer than you realize.” They repeated in your mind like a haunting refrain, twisting your thoughts into knots. What did he mean? And why did it feel like there was more truth in his taunts than anyone cared to admit? The sterile prison corridor seemed darker now, its shadows crawling up the walls like something alive. A prickle of unease traced up your spine. For a moment, you paused, glancing back at the dim outline of the cell. It felt as though something—or someone—was watching. The air was too quiet, heavy with an unsaid warning. You shook your head and looked down, trying to steady your breaths, but your heart stopped cold. There, lying on the cold, stone floor just ahead of you, was a strand of blue hair. It glimmered faintly in the pale light, its color unmistakable. Powder. Your knees threatened to buckle, but you forced yourself to stay upright. A rush of memories flooded back—her laughter, her wide, curious eyes, the promises you made to her and Vi. And then the explosion, the chaos, and everything that came after. Your breathing quickened as you knelt down and gingerly picked up the strand, its texture soft but alien, almost too delicate for something so steeped in blood and tragedy. How did it get here? And why now?
The corridor seemed to stretch endlessly before you, the walls pressing in tighter. Your pulse thundered in your ears as a hundred questions screamed in your mind, all vying for answers. But one thought rose above them all, clear and sharp as a knife:
She was here.
And if she was here, then what had you missed? What was waiting just beyond the next shadow? You clutched the strand tighter, a knot of fear and determination tightening in your chest. You couldn’t let this go. Not now. Not after everything. With trembling hands and racing thoughts, you turned and walked toward the exit, but every step away from that cell felt like stepping deeper into the unknown.
You pulled your coat tighter around you, the cool night air biting at your skin. Your feet moved again, this time carrying you toward Zaun. If there was even the faintest chance she was there, you had to follow it. Whether you were ready or not, the path ahead was clear. You had to find her. And this time, you couldn’t fail. You had been at it for hours—no, days—piecing together fragments of evidence that felt more like whispers in the dark. Each lead took you deeper into Zaun’s underbelly: a blood trail smeared across cracked pavement, scorch marks that didn’t belong, and the eerie testimonies of those too afraid to say much at all. The closer you got, the more everything started pointing to one place. You’d seen the tunnel marked on old maps of Zaun—a forgotten artery deep within the district, barely mentioned anymore except in hushed tones. Something had happened there, something people were afraid to talk about. Standing at its mouth now, you could feel the weight of the place pressing on you like a physical force. The green chemfog swirled thickly, the heavy air carrying a stench of rust, decay, and something faintly metallic. It was quiet, unnervingly so, the usual hum of Zaun’s machinery conspicuously absent. You stepped forward cautiously, every instinct screaming at you to turn back. But the faintest trace of blood along the ground caught your attention, leading you further in. Whatever had been here—or was still here—wasn’t human. And yet, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t just a hunt for a monster. This was something personal, a shadow from your past reaching out to drag you back. As you stood at the edge of the tunnel, Dr. Reveck’s voice echoed in your mind, his words heavy with warning.
“You think you’re hunting it, but it’s already closer than you realize.”
The memory of his cold, detached tone sent a shiver down your spine. You tried to brush it off, focus on the task at hand. But it wasn’t easy. There was something about the way he’d looked at you, almost pitying, that gnawed at your resolve.
“You might not like what you uncover.”
The blood trail led further into the shadows, growing thicker, fresher. Each step you took seemed to confirm the truth of his cryptic warning. This wasn’t just a trail—it was a trap, a path carved by something that knew you’d follow. Despite yourself, fear clawed at the edges of your mind. You gripped your weapon tightly, the sound of your own breathing loud in the suffocating silence. If Dr. Reveck was right, if it was closer than you realized, then maybe—just maybe—it wasn’t the beast you were hunting anymore. Your heart pounded in your chest as you ventured deeper into the tunnel, every nerve on edge. The oppressive darkness seemed alive, pressing down on you as if the walls themselves wanted to swallow you whole. Then, breaking through the suffocating silence, you heard it—a voice. A familiar cry echoed through the hollow passage, carrying a name you hadn’t heard in years.
“Powder.”
Your breath hitched, and without thinking, your feet carried you toward the sound. The cry was raw, desperate, and unmistakable. It clawed at the memories you’d buried deep—days spent in the smog-filled streets of Zaun, promises whispered in the dead of night. You turned a corner, and there they were. The sight stopped you cold. Vi was locked in a brutal struggle, her movements sharp and relentless as she fought the towering monstrosity before her. Jinx—no, Powder—was nearby, her chaotic energy radiating even in the chaos, her laughter twisted with something between joy and pain. The beast, its hulking form both animal and something far worse, loomed over them. You stood frozen for a moment, unable to reconcile the scene before you. The two sisters you had sworn to protect were here, together again, fighting a nightmare brought to life. This wasn’t just a fight—it was their fight. But as the beast’s roar shook the walls of the tunnel, you knew you couldn’t just stand there. Not this time. You swung your electro-baton again, sending a crack of electricity through the beast’s thick hide. It staggered back, growling low, but you were ready to strike again. Then, a voice you hadn’t heard in what felt like ages cut through the chaos, sharp and frantic.
“Y/N?”
Your heart skipped a beat, and you turned, breath catching. There, standing in front of you with wide, shocked eyes, was Jinx. But it wasn’t just her surprise that caught your attention—it was the frantic energy radiating from her as her gaze flickered between you and the monster. Before you could even process the situation, Vi’s voice rang out, filled with desperation. “Get out of the way!” she yelled, her eyes locking onto the beast just as it made a move in your direction. The words barely registered before you heard the guttural growl of the creature, its monstrous form lunging toward you, faster than you could react. Your instincts kicked in just in time as you dove to the side, pushing Jinx out of the way and out of the path of the beast. In the chaos of the moment, you felt a sharp pang in your chest—Jinx’s face, twisted with a mixture of fear and resolve, flashed in your mind for just a second. She wasn’t ready to lose him again. But the situation was slipping further from control, and you couldn’t afford to wait any longer. Before you could strike, a hand shot out, gripping your arm with surprising strength. You whirled around, heart pounding, only to find Powder standing there. Her eyes were wide, frantic, pleading. “Stop!” she cried, her voice desperate, barely above a whisper. But it was enough to freeze you in place, your pulse hammering in your ears. The world seemed to slow as Powder’s frantic cry echoed in your mind.
“It’s Vander.”
For a moment, you couldn’t breathe. The name hung in the air, shattering everything you thought you knew. Your heart pounded against your ribs, memories of Vander flooding your mind—his hands, strong yet tender, holding you close during the darkest times. His laugh, the warmth he exuded when the world around you seemed so cold. He had been your everything. You had loved him with every fiber of your being. But this thing, this beast, it was not the man you had known. This creature, with its bloodshot eyes and twisted form, was not Vander. It couldn’t be. Your hands shook as you tightened your grip on the electro-baton, but it felt wrong—so wrong. The memories of him, so vivid and painful, clashed with the grotesque beast standing before you. You felt sick to your stomach, a wave of guilt crashing over you. You had failed him. Failed to save him. And now, you couldn’t even bring yourself to end the nightmare he had become. Your breath hitched as Powder stepped forward, desperation in her voice. “Please, Y/N, stop. I know it’s him. I can feel him in there. I won’t let you hurt him again.” Her words were a plea, a fragile hope in the storm. But your heart twisted with doubt. You could still hear the screams, the way the beast had ravaged everything in its path. And yet… something in Powder’s eyes, something in her raw desperation, made you falter.
The beast—Vander—lurched forward, its eyes locking onto you with an intensity that nearly paralyzed you. Every memory you had ever shared with him felt like it was being ripped from your chest.“Vander,” you whispered, the word slipping from your lips before you could stop it. The weight of it crushed you. You had spent so many years believing that Vander was lost, that the man you loved was gone. But here he was, in some twisted form, and it was as if everything you had been through had led you to this moment. Powder’s voice trembled as she pleaded once more. “Please, Y/N. Trust me. It’s him. Don’t hurt him. He’s still in there.” The battle inside you was unbearable. Every part of you screamed to fight, to destroy the beast before it could hurt anyone else. But Powder’s face—the vulnerability, the fear—held you in place. Your heart ached for her, for the girl who had once been Powder, the girl who had believed so deeply in the man who had been Vander. And for a long moment, you did nothing. Your body, your mind, were paralyzed by the weight of it all.
You wanted to believe her, wanted to believe that Vander was still there somewhere beneath that monstrous exterior. You swallowed hard, the tears threatening to break free. Slowly, shakily, you lowered the electro-baton, letting it fall to your side. It felt like an eternity, the weight of the decision heavier than any battle you had ever fought. The beast—Vander—let out a low growl, and for a split second, it seemed to hesitate, its glowing eyes softening. And then, before you could process what was happening, it lunged. In a split-second, you shoved Vi out of the way, your body reacting faster than your mind could follow. You felt the beast’s claws rake across your shoulder, pain searing through your skin. The world blurred for a moment, your vision flickering as you stumbled backward, feeling weaker by the second. And then, amidst the chaos, the word tore from your chest.
“Vander…”
The sound of his name was a raw, guttural cry, one that echoed through the tunnels, through your soul. The pain hit you harder than any wound could. Vander, that name, those memories—they tore you apart. You had vowed to protect Vi and Powder, to keep them safe from the horrors of the world, yet here you stood, helpless. The love you had for him, for both of them, never faded. But now? Now you wondered if you'd failed them all. Could you ever undo the damage, or was it too late to save any of them? This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t be this. But here he was, and you couldn’t turn away. Not now. Not after everything.
As the beast—the twisted, monstrous form of Vander—pins you to the ground, his massive claw digs into your shoulder, a searing pain that nearly overwhelms you. Your body is trembling, pinned beneath his weight, but you find the strength to cry out. “Vander!” The word escapes your lips like a prayer, a cry full of pain, longing, and grief. For a fleeting moment, the ferocity in his bloodshot eyes falters. There’s a flicker of something, a split-second recognition that makes your heart ache with hope, even as your breath hitches in terror. The claws dig deeper, and for a second, you wonder if it’s all over. The beast’s heavy breaths rattle through your chest, but you can’t stop. This has to be the moment. This has to reach him. With what strength you have left, you lift your free hand and place it gently on his massive claw, the very one that could end your life. You speak the words that have haunted your thoughts, words full of both love and desperate sorrow, knowing they might be the last you ever speak to him.
“It’s me... your sunshine.”
The words hang in the air, fragile and raw, and for a heartbeat, time seems to stop. The beast’s gaze flickers—just for a moment—as if the sound of your voice stirs something deep within him. There’s a trembling hesitation in his claw, as if he’s hearing something buried beneath the rage and the pain, something that reminds him of who he was. In the chaos of your heart, you realize your words are more than a plea. They’re a lifeline thrown into a sea of darkness, hoping that some part of Vander will catch it. For a heartbeat, you feel the world shift, the crushing weight of the beast’s form loosening as something human flickers in the depths of his eyes. His growls soften, his body stills, as if struggling against the flood of memories. Then, as if through a fog, his voice—gravelly, strained, broken—rumbles from the depths of his throat, just a whisper but heavy with a history that neither of you could erase.
“Y/N…?”
The name feels like a weight lifted off your chest, like the first breath after drowning. His voice is there, faint, but real. Vander is still in there. You can feel it—the man you loved, the one who had promised to always protect you, the one who had once held you close during the darkest nights, is right here in front of you. Tears blur your vision, and your body trembles, caught between the raw pain, the disbelief, and a flood of emotions you never thought you’d face again. With a trembling breath, you whisper, “It’s me, Vander… it’s your Y/N…” In that moment, his once ferocious red eyes flicker. A slow shift begins, and your heart seizes in your chest as you see something break through the fog—a glimmer of blue and green cutting through the fire. For a single, fleeting second, you see Vander there, in his eyes. The man you loved. The protector who had once carried you through the worst storms. It’s real. He’s still in there. The grip around you tightens, not with violence, but with a deep, consuming desperation. His body trembles with something far greater than rage—something more human. His chest releases a low, guttural breath, the growl that once shook the air now softened, trembling with the weight of all that he has become, all he’s lost.
He’s no longer the man you remember, not entirely. But he’s not the beast either. No longer fully consumed by it. It’s somewhere in between, and in that space, you cling to him like you’ve never clung to anything before. You feel his hands, so monstrous and terrifying in their size, holding you close— holding you. He pulls you in with a desperation that makes your chest ache, his form trembling as if he’s afraid you might slip away again, as if this might all vanish in an instant. The sheer weight of him, the warmth of his touch, releases everything you’ve buried deep inside—the fear, the questions, the pain, the grief. Every memory of him, of what you lost, surfaces and consumes you. Your sobs come, raw and uncontrollable. The sound fills the air between you, as you let go of everything you’ve carried alone all this time. And in the grip of this agony, in the midst of your sobbing breaths, you feel Vander—the man who once loved you—is still fighting to hold onto you, still fighting to be the protector he once was. His arms, still massive, still deadly, are now filled with tenderness. He doesn’t need to speak, not yet. His embrace says everything. He’s still here, he’s still fighting, and he hasn’t forgotten you. In that moment, you realize that the beast, the rage, the monstrous form—none of it can take away who he was, who he still is to you. Tears blur your vision even more, but you no longer try to stop them. You let them fall freely, because in the midst of the devastation, the pain, and the years you spent wondering if this day would ever come, you know— he’s here. Not just in body, but in soul. And you’ll hold on to him, no matter what form he takes. You’ll fight for him, just as he fought for you.
As Vander’s gaze shifts toward Powder and Vi, his monstrous form trembles slightly, and the flicker of recognition in his eyes softens further. Despite the beast he has become, there's a tenderness in the way he moves, his massive arm opening wide, offering a place for them to find solace in his embrace. The look in their eyes is a mix of agony and hope, the weight of everything they've endured written across their faces. It’s clear they’re torn between fear of what he’s become and the desire to believe that the father they once knew is still inside.
Without a word, you reach out, your voice quiet but full of emotion.
“Go to him. He’s still your father. He’s still here with us.”
The words are simple, but they carry the weight of years of grief, the ache of a lost family and the hope of its fragile restoration. Powder’s eyes fill with tears, and Vi, standing beside her, slowly steps forward. The two of them move together, drawn toward Vander’s open arms, like a long-buried longing finally being met. They collapse into his embrace, and the world around you seems to pause. Vander, in his monstrous form, holds them close, his massive arms gentle yet desperate, as though he’s afraid they might disappear if he holds them too loosely. The pain, the fear, all of it melts away in this moment, replaced by something simple—love. He’s still their father, still the protector who had raised them. Even now, with all the darkness and the destruction surrounding them, Vander is here, alive, and for this moment, whole.
And you stand back, watching them hold each other. The tears in your own eyes sting as you witness the reunion, knowing that, despite everything, the heart of the man you loved is still present. He is their father— your Vander—and for that, you are thankful.
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aquaticmercy · 1 day ago
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Waste a Moment / Part 15
Summary : Bucky had always kept his distance, but seeing you get hurt on a mission changed everything. For the first time, he has a chance to start over with you.
Pairing : Bucky Barnes x avenger!reader (she/her) 
Warnings/tags : Mentions of food. Cursing. Memory loss. Head injury. Reader used to work in a museum.
Requested by :  @remoony
Word count : 2.7k
Note : I have a lot on my inbox and I haven’t been replying a lot lately, but I will go through them tomorrow! Please let me know if I miss anyone on the tags! Enjoy!
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“Name a Price”
Tuesday.
You had said it all—every bitter feeling, every thread of anger that festered so deep inside you that you barely knew where you ended and it began. Alex hadn’t interrupted, hadn’t even shifted in her seat.
She just sat there beside you, listening like she did the first time.
Not as someone who pitied you— but as a friend.
For a while, she didn’t say anything. 
You stared at the glass case in front of you, the one holding Bucky’s war uniform— a symbol of his past that he was still piecing together.
You began to wonder if he’d been someone else back then— someone untouched by Hydra’s corruption. 
But you knew better. That uniform belonged to a man already carrying scars from war you couldn’t begin to fathom. Hydra just amplified it, took advantage of it, added to it.
“I’m not defending Bucky,” Alex finally spoke, “But let me ask you something—hypothetically. If you were still with him, and he somehow forgot all about his Winter Soldier days, would you remind him?”
What?
You turned to her sharply, mouth agape with shock. “That’s not fair.”
“I’m not trying to be fair,” she replied calmly, “it was just a hypothetical question.”
Your hands clenched into fists in your lap. “But that’s neither here nor there,” you muttered, looking away.
“Is it?” Alex pressed, her tone patient but unrelenting. “The only difference I see is scale.”
Her words lingered in your brain like a disease spreading. You wanted to snap at her, to tell her it wasn’t the same thing at all, but… wasn’t it?
“Well,” you said, your voice faltering a little, your conviction a little less absolute. “It’s not the same,” you insisted. “It’s a painful memory for him, and he wouldn’t know how to process it. I wouldn’t want to…”
Your voice trailed off, realising your answer.
The truth— the truth was that you wouldn’t tell him. 
You wouldn’t tell him because you couldn’t bear to see the pain, to see the humanity ripped away again. You wouldn’t be able to look at the way it would twist his beautiful blue eyes and pull him back into the darkness he’d spent so long trying to climb out of. You wouldn’t tell him because you didn’t think you could survive watching him rip himself apart, questioning his very existence, his place in the world.
But was that fair? Could you make that choice for him?
Alex’s voice cut through your spiralling thoughts. “Doesn’t he deserve to know the truth?”
You flinched, feeling the words hit like a punch. 
“It wouldn’t be my place to give it to him,” you said, your tone harsher than you intended— like it was your last line of defence. 
“So you’d be complicit,” Alex said bluntly.
That word stunned you. It froze you in place.
Complicit.
You felt your chest tighten, your breath stopping for a split second. 
Complicit. 
Like Yelena.
The realisation struck you like a punch to the gut. 
Even as you tried to tend to the wounds, you still held a grudge against Yelena for what she’d done, for keeping the truth from you. You hated the way she had looked at you with pity in her eyes. You hated that she’d known all along. You hated that she knew when the truth came out, it would destroy you. 
But now, you realised, if you were in Yelena’s shoes, wouldn’t you have done the exact same thing?
“And how do you think he’d feel if he found out the way you did?” Alex continued quietly.
You swallowed hard, but the lump in your throat wouldn’t go away. 
You didn’t have to imagine it. You already knew— you knew exactly how he’d feel.
He’d feel like the ground had been ripped out from under him, like the air had been stolen from his lungs. He’d feel betrayed. Hurt. 
Like his entire world was a lie.
Just like you had.
You loved Alex— she was your friend— but you hated how exposed you felt, how easily her words broke down the walls you've built around yourself.
“It’s not that simple,” you said, your voice breaking.
“I know,” Alex replied, she put her hand on yours, trying to keep you steady. “But I think… Bucky did what he did out of love. It doesn’t make it right, but it doesn’t make it wrong either. It makes it human.”
“So what?” You almost snapped if not for the stray sob that escaped your mouth. “I’m just supposed to forgive him? Pretend like it’s all okay because he meant well?”
“No,” Alex said firmly. “You’re allowed to be angry. You’re allowed to hurt.” She paused, her eyes holding yours. “But ask yourself this: what’s holding on to this anger costing you?”
You knew exactly what it cost you: it cost you your happiness, and his.
When you stepped into your apartment, you saw him.
Bucky stood in the kitchen, his back turned to you, shoulders tense he moved around the stove. The soft clatter of utensils and the low hiss of simmering liquor on the burner made your apartment feel like him. 
The scent was rich, warm, and familiar. It was your favourite dish. 
On the table nearby, your clear vase was now home to a bouquet of flowers, your favourite flowers— the ones he always teased you about loving because they never lasted long. You’d playfully huff, telling him it bloomed so beautifully in the short time it had lived. 
They were arranged with painstaking care—one you knew Bucky was capable of. The petals were flawless, the colours vibrant, as if he’d combed through hundreds of blooms to find the most perfect ones.  
“Hey,” he said softly. He turned to face you, his movements careful, as if afraid to shatter the fragile truce between you. 
When his eyes found yours, a tentative smile curved his lips. His voice was different— gentle, stripped of the defensive edge you had expected.
Your breath hitched.
You’d imagined this moment countless times while you were laying in the hospital bed. 
In some versions, your fury took centre stage, unleashed on him like a storm. In others, the anger had dulled, leaving only an all- consuming sadness, refusing to acknowledge he existed all together. 
You had breached for him to plead, to beg. But this? This peace, this tenderness—it wasn’t what you’d prepared for. 
“Hi,” you managed to say, your voice barely more than a whisper. It felt heavy, like the first crack in a dam threatening to spill. You closed the door behind you, and walked to the dinner table, sitting down before your knees gave out.
Bucky turned back to the stove, setting the spoon down, giving himself a moment to gather his thoughts. He wiped his hands on a towel before walking over to the table. 
His movements were careful, like a man walking a tightrope. “I didn’t want you to come back to… an empty home. Not again,” he murmured, his hand raking through his hair, as it always did when he was anxious. “So I thought I’d, uh, take care of the place. Until you came back. If you came back.”
You stared at him, then at his careful effort he’d put into making the apartment feel welcoming. After all this time, your home didn’t feel yours anymore— not entirely.. It felt like it belonged to both of you. 
“You didn’t have to do this,” you said finally, your voice trembling. 
“I know,” he said, his voice barely holding steady. His eyes met yours, and for the first time since the hospital, there was no mask, no shield. No defences raised, no excuses. “But I wanted to.”
The vulnerability in his eyes was an invitation, not a deflection.
“Dinner’s almost ready,” he said, breaking the moment as he turned back to the stove.
You nodded, fingers brushing over the soft petals of the flowers. Questions swirled in your mind—so many questions, accusations, words you’d rehearsed over and over. But you didn’t say any of them. Instead, you let him take care of you as you once did— you let him finish dinner.  
When he finally brought the plates over, he sat across from you, his hands resting on his knees like he was bracing for impact. You stared at the food, then at him.
“Thank you,” you said. Picking up your fork felt… comforting. It felt like home.
“I can go,” he said suddenly, almost panicked. “I’ll do the dishes and leave.”
“No,” you said quickly, the word surprising even yourself. Your chest tightened as you recalled your conversation with Alex, her reminder that he was human, a reminder that healing could only start if you accepted that he could make mistakes. You set your fork down and met his eyes. “I’m ready to talk.”
Bucky hesitated, his fingers tracing anxious patterns along the table. His muscles tightened, his eyes fixed downward as if the weight of what he was about to say could shatter everything between you. “I don’t… I don’t know where to start.”
You swallowed, the lump forming in your throat. You forced yourself to breathe through it. 
The thought of finally hearing him out was terrifying, but you knew you owed it to yourself. “I don’t care where you start,” you said gently.
His hand stilled in a grip that held the table’s edge a little too tightly. “I know you know I wasn’t always this w-way. This perfect person you’ve known these past few months… I’ve always wanted to be him, for you.”
His words hit you like a wave, the sincerity pulling at your heartstrings. 
“I never needed you to be perfect, Bucky,” you said, the tremble in your tone almost taking over, “I just needed you to be honest.”
He lifted his gaze then, his eyes clouded with regret, pain, and mostly— shame. “How could I?” He murmured, his voice cracking, “For so long, I thought I was protecting you by keeping parts of myself locked away. By being… distant. I thought that if I didn’t let you get too close, you’d be better off. Safer. I didn’t… I didn’t know how t-to justify this change.”
“But why?” you asked, your voice sharper than you intended. “Why did you think I couldn’t handle it? Why didn’t you trust me enough to let me in?”
He flinched at your tone, his shoulders dropping as if the question had drained him. He closed his eyes for a moment, thinking before answering. “Because I didn’t think I deserved you.” He looked at you then, his eyes so full of pain. “I told myself you deserved someone whole, someone who wasn’t… broken. And I thought that if I kept my distance, you would hate me. But you didn’t. Not until… not until now.”
But he was wrong. You didn’t hate him— you never could. You hated that he lied, But him? No, you could never bring yourself to hate him.
“So you pushed me away,” you said quietly, a confirmation of what you knew all along.
He nodded, lI thought I could keep my distance and pretend like it was for the best. But every time I was around you, I felt this… like I couldn’t breathe.”
There it was again. 
He couldn’t breathe around you, he admitted time and again. But not because he hated you. Not because he found your presence suffocating.
It was because you were so damn precious to him that the very thought of sharing the same air as you felt like a privilege he hadn’t earned.
“Instead of facing it,” he continued, “I built a wall around myself.”
Today, his words weren’t excuses; they were admissions. Every letter felt like it cost him a piece of himself.
“I know I hurt you,” he said, his voice breaking. “And I know I can’t undo that. But when you lost your memory… I don’t know. It felt like I had this chance to—to start over. To be the man you deserved. To show you the kind of love I’ve always wanted to give you.”
You blinked back tears. It was like piecing together the puzzle of your past, one fragment of pain at a time. “But you didn’t think to tell me?” you asked, “You didn’t think I deserved to know?”
A pang guilt crossed his face, his mouth falling into a frown. “I should have,” he admitted, “I should’ve told you everything from the start. But I was so scared that if you knew, you’d see the worst of me. That you’d hate me for it. And losing you… I couldn’t handle... couldn’t think….”
You wanted to yell at him, to tell him how much his silence had hurt you, how it had made you question everything. But you also understood, in a way that only love could explain. Alex’s little thought experiment made you connect to his fear— the paralysing fear of losing that meant so much to you. 
“I’m not going to pretend this doesn’t hurt,” you said, your voice steady despite the tears welling in your eyes. “I can’t go back to the way things were before, Bucky. No more lies, no more walls. If we’re going to try this— I need to know all of you. The good, the bad, the broken. All of it.”
His eyes widened.
A second chance—after everything he’d hidden from you? 
It seemed impossible— yet here you were, offering it to him.
He hesitated, then reached for your hand, still not believing that he deserved your touch.
When his trembling fingers brushed against yours, you didn’t pull away. Instead, you turned your hand, weaving your fingers through his.
“I promise,” he said, “I’ll be better. I’ll be honest. No more walls, no more hiding.”
His fingers tightened around yours, afraid you might still let go, afraid you might change your mind. 
But you held on, your grip firm “I don’t need you to be perfect,” you repeated. “I just need you to be honest. I need you to let me in.”
His breath faltered, and for a moment, he looked at you like you were the only thing that could keep him tethered to this earth. “I’ll let you in,” his voice broke. “I’ll spend the rest of my life proving to you that you made the right choice.”
As you sat there holding his hand, you felt the presence of something stronger than fear—hope.
“Can I kiss you?” He finally asked
Your heartbeat quickened, your chest tightening at the sincerity in his request. 
For a moment, you saw it—the life you both wanted, the way it could feel so right, so safe, in his arms. And yet, the cracks of what you’d been through together were still there. The answer that rose within you wasn’t what you’d expected, but it was clear.
“No.”
The word left your lips gently, but firmly. His thumb froze against your skin, his body tensing. The faintest flicker of hurt crossed his eyes. 
He opened his mouth to apologise, but before he could, you interrupted him.
“I’m not saying no forever,” you said, “But I want to take things slow. I need to trust that this—whatever we’re building now—isn’t just us rushing to cover up the hurt. I need to know it’s real.”
For a moment, he just looked at you. Slowly, his shoulders relaxed. A small, almost shy smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “We’ll go as slow as you need,” he said.
He leaned back slightly, letting his fingers slip from yours.
There was no more resentment, no bitterness— only understanding. 
The two of you continued eating in silence, exchanging glances that lingered just a little longer than usual, small, subtle smiles that promised a fragile piece. Each moment felt like a step forward, like a rebuilding of trust, brick by brick, piece by piece.
When the meal was over, he stood to clear the dishes. As he walked past your chair, he paused. His fingers brushed against your shoulder, a fleeting touch. It wasn’t possessive or pleading anymore. Instead, it was a quiet reminder. I’m here. I’m staying. I’m not going to hide anymore.
And for the first time, you truly believed him. Not because he’d said the right thing, not because he was perfect. But because he was trying. 
Because he was human, and he finally saw himself that way. 
-To be continued…
Taglist :
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band--psycho · 1 day ago
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Vander x Reader - 5 Years Later...(Part 2)
Please be kind, reblogs are always welcome and greatly appreciated!
Requests are still open so if you have any ideas/requests, you're more than welcome to send them over (thank you to everyone who's requested a story so far, I'm working my way through them!)
Part 2 to my Vander x Reader series - Part 1
I hope you all enjoy this! 💛
Thank you all for the continued support!💛
I do not give permission for any of my works to be copied or translated onto this site or other platforms!
Vander Masterlist / Arcane Masterlist / Join My Taglist
Warnings: Mentions of death, mentions of grief, feeling of dega-vu
You knew the Undercity wasn’t the safest of places to go, at least that’s what your father had always told you. 
So why were you down here? 
Because as much as you appreciated your fathers protectiveness, what type of friend would you be if you let one of your closest friends go down there alone? 
A pretty shit one. 
Which is why, despite the risks, you went with Jayce down to the Undercity. 
Besides, seeing as you were training to be an Enforcer and Jayce was just a student at the academy it was basically your job to escort him and make sure that nothing happened to him; that’s at least what you’d tell Greyson if she asked where you’d been…and your parents, if they asked which you hoped they wouldn’t. 
“Remind me where we’re going?” You asked in a slightly hushed tone as the two of you turned a corner walking down a dimly lit alley, before 
“I need to get some supplies for a project I’m working on,” Jayce answered simply; with an optimistic gleam in his eyes. 
“What project?” you inquired, unable to keep your curiosity at bay; it had certainly been a while since you’d seen Jayce this excited about a project.
“It’s best I don’t tell you, until I can get it working,” he replied; his answer only furthering your curiosity, but perhaps it was for the best for you to know as little as possible…especially if the academy wasn’t aware of it, which by the seams of things, they weren’t. The less you knew the better; though it still played on your mind as the two of you continued walking through the Undercity.  
To most people the Undercity was just an underdeveloped land across the river, deep in the canyons,  beneath Piltover, filled with misfits and thugs; but as you walked through the lanes of the Undercity, you couldn’t help but admire the beauty of it. 
The beauty of how vibrant the lights atop of the shops shone in the darkness; the difference of industrial architecture, making each building its own, if only in a little way.
It was different from Piltover, of course, but beautiful nevertheless. 
Since you'd arrived down here you couldn’t shake this feeling of deja-vu…like you’d been here before. 
It was odd. 
You’d never been down here; not once; so why did it feel so familiar?
You were so lost in your own thoughts that you hadn’t realised Jayce had stopped walking until you walked into the back of him. 
“Sorry,” you whispered, hearing a small chuckle fall from his lips. 
“Lost in your own world again?” he teased, turning around to look at you. 
You simply rolled your eyes at his comment and looked at the building you’d stopped outside; a pawn shop. 
You shot Jayce a confused look; you didn’t understand what this place had that any of the shops in Piltover didn’t; except from some anonymity. 
Down here no one knew him. 
But that only caused the curiosity you had about his project to grow. 
“Stay out here, I won’t be long,” he said before disappearing inside the shop. 
You went to follow him, before you heard a song in the distance, that halted your steps. 
You knew it. 
But you were certain you’d never heard it before…
How did you know a song from the Undercity? 
You turned on your heel, following the sound of the song; you knew it was risky, venturing off into the Undercity alone and you knew Jayce would be worried if he came back outside and noticed you gone, but you couldn’t help it. 
It was like your feet had a mind of their own and before you knew it, you’d come to the source of the music, it was a bar, or at least that’s what you assumed it was seeing as it was called ‘The Last Drop’ and had a logo of a tankard in the middle of the name. 
‘Why does this place seem so familiar?’ you thought to yourself, your eyes narrowing as you stared at the building in front of you. 
You were about to take another step, before you felt someone grab ahold of your wrist; instinctively your training kicked in and your guard went up, ready to fight. 
That was until you saw that it was Jayce who was holding your wrist; he was panting slightly with a worried look in his eyes, “I thought something had happened to you.”
“I’m sorry,” you apologized, guilt washing over you, “I didn’t mean to worry you,” 
“It’s okay,” he answered softly, tugging on your wrist slightly, leading you away from the bar, “Let’s just get out of here.”
And with that the two of you made your way past the pawn shop Jayce had been in, passing a little boy with white hair leaning against the wall, he had a proud smile on his face that was until he saw you. 
You waved at him politely, confused about why he was staring at you; but the little boy said nothing, he just continued to stare at you, his mouth hanging slightly agape as you vanished out of his view. 
All you could think about as you made your way back to Piltover was how strange today had truly been. 
The deja-vu, the song, the bar, the little boy….none of it was making any sense….
~~~~~~
Vander hated seeing Vi hurt; he also hated that she was a mirror image of how he was when he was younger, so eager to rebel against the topsiders…but it wasn’t that simple. 
That’s what he was trying to get her to understand.
Every action had a consequence. 
He knew that better than anyone. 
He was the one who was too stubborn to call off the uprising, because he wanted to show Piltover that they were worthy of not being left behind on all the grand new ventures Piltover were indulging in; and because of that, he lost so many people that were close to him. 
But no ones ghost was more haunting than yours. 
He just needed Vi to understand that violence wasn’t the way to play this. 
He knew Greyson would probably be paying him a visit soon; the kids, unintentionally, broke an agreement that he’d made with the current sheriff of Piltover, to keep a peace between topside and the Lanes. 
A peace that was now hanging by a thread. 
Once he was sure Vi’s injuries were clean, he rose from the table and began putting away the supplies he’d used to clean her cuts. 
“Vander…there’s something else,” Vi began, halting Vanders movements and making his attention focus back on her. 
“Go on,” he  said calmly, though in his mind he was dreading the next words that were going to come out of her mouth; she’d just been part of blowing up a building in Piltover, what more could there be.
“Ekko said….he said he saw Y/n,” 
Her words short-circuited his mind at the mention of your name.
“What?” he asked; thinking that maybe, somehow, he’d misheard what Vi had said. 
“He said he saw Y/n walking with that topside guy that came into the shop,” she repeated, noticing how Vanders eyebrows furrowed together as he tried to process her words. 
“That was partly why I went up there….to see if she was there,” she continued, rising from her seat, walking over to Vander and placing her hand on his arm. 
She knew how much Vander loved you. 
She knew how much losing you broke him. 
She knew how much losing you hurt both her and Powder; who’d grown so close to you in the few years prior to the uprising. 
That’s why she wanted to be sure that Ekko wasn’t wrong; she’d barely believed him herself when he first told her, but before the explosion happened, she was sure she heard your voice; but without actually seeing you, she couldn't be sure if it was you or if it was just the wishful thinking in her mind.
“She’s dead, Vi,” Vander stated; his voice remaining balanced; although the look in his eyes showed a growing sadness. 
“You’ve never believed that,” 
It wasn’t a lie; he didn’t believe it. 
He might’ve said that you were dead; but Vi knew that deep in his heart, he had never believed it.
He never found your body; and without your body, he could still cling on to the hope that you were alive. 
Vi never really understood why he couldn’t believe your death was real; but now she knew that he was right all along. 
“Ekko got it wrong, it can’t have been her.”
“Vander, he knows what she looks like….” Vi tried to counter, they all knew what you looked like from the photos Vander kept of the two of you; but Vander just went back to putting away the medical supplies before heading to the stairs. 
“He got it wrong,” he answered back, slightly harsher than he’d intended to,before leaving the basement entirely and heading to his own room. 
He all but collapsed onto the side of your bed; his eyes landing on the photo of you he kept on his bedside table. 
You were dead.
That’s what he kept telling himself. 
That’s what he'd had to tell himself for the last five years to keep his own sanity. 
But there was a little voice in the back of his head, a voice that reignited his failing hope…what if you weren’t…what if what Ekko said was true…?
Vander didn’t know what to believe….the memories from that day flooding back into his mind as the pain he’d felt re-entered his heart, tears fell from the Hound Of The Undergrounds eyes, as he tried to work out what to believe. 
What if all these years you’d been alive? 
Why were you in Piltover? 
Why hadn’t you come back to him? 
Did you blame him for what happened on the bridge….did you blame him for the deaths so many people had succumbed to…? 
Is that why you never came home?
So many thoughts were running through his mind; but even if his mind hadn’t settled on a decision, his heart had; he needed to find out the truth. 
And he would; just as soon as he’d smoothed everything out with Greyson about today's incident.
Taglist:
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I apologise in advance to those who have asked to be on the taglist and aren’t - I’m not ignoring you, I just can’t tag you in it for some reason :(
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queen-of-wisdom · 2 days ago
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Laurie opened her mouth, a strange sequences of fast breathing left her mouth. She told ST427730RN once that it was a traditional human expression of happiness.
"I once told you that we humans are from Earth, right?"
"Yes, you did. It was also part of our management course."
"That's the answer", said Laurie, her eyes were fixated on a point outsidd the window. ST427730RN follwed her eyes but couldn't see what Laurie was so occupied with.
"That is not a answer", ST427730RN insisted.
"Yes it is; it's not my fault you can't understand it."
Laurie showed her teeth. ST527730RN has to remind itself that it wasn't a sign of hostility but a sign of joy, even if it didn't really understand why Laurie was so happy talking about her destroyed planet of origin.
"No, sorry, that wasn't fair of me", she said. "It's just...hard to explain."
"Try", it said. "For me."
Laurie looked at the blanket. ST527730RN followed her look again. Maybe it has to also ask her what she was always looking at.
"Earth isn't just our planet of origin, for us humans, I mean", Laurie started. "Everything in our cultures is based of the ancestral land on Earth. The food, the stories, the traditions. In some cultures, there's a big emphasis on being buried at the same place as your ancestors, others believe that special spirits live inside the Earth . It's really different. "
"But, Laurie, I do not understand. Did not your planet became unhabitable around a thousand years ago?"
"Yes, that's true but...you know we humans love documentating things, right?"
"You always write your past experiences down right before sleepingh, how could I not know?"
Laurie did her traditional human expression of happiness again.
"Right, right sorry...anyway, the humans of the past did the same. They photographed and described the whole planet. It was beautiful, you know? Really, really beautiful. I grew up watching documentaries of the fish that once lived in the cool oceans and about gigantic forrests with leaves as green as on Orne-te'go, we should watch it together, I'll show you. Then you'll understand too."
Laurie looked it directly into its eyes.
"I do not want to discourage you from your culture", ST527730RN said. "But I really like you, Laurie and the thought of your sadness would transfer to me feeling the same, so I want to remind you that so far, no species ever has reformed a once made inhabitable planet into a habitable one again. It is not possible."
"I'm flattered by your care, '52, I really am, but it's fine, really. I don't expect Earth to become liveable again soon, I just hope that it's soon enough that I don't have to continue the tradition with our grandkids. That I can show them Earth, instead of only watching films about it. I have to hope that. "
"What is this 'hope'? It is a word from your language, correct?"
She showed her teeth. "Yeah, it's a emotion but it's kinda hard to explain."
"Try", ST527730RN said. "For me."
Laurie closed her eyes. Probably to stop distract her from these things she keeps seeing at the blanket or outside in space.
"Hope is...when you wish for your descendants to grow up on Earth, even if it's completely unrealistic by today's standards. It's when you know that something is unlikely to happen but you still believe. Because you have to."
"Why do you have to hope?"
"Because that's how the good future happens."
"You humans have hundreds of planets under your control, so why do you waste so many resources trying to make that Earth planet habital? I genuinely don't understand."
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sandwitchstories · 1 day ago
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Sweet Suffering
Hi guys! I'm back! I hope you all enjoy another adventure in Mouse's Mini-verse with your favorite pink haired, two year old menace!
For more adventures with Mouse and Dad!Sukuna, check out my Daddy Duty Series on my AO3 - Here! )
Author's Note: For anyone new to my Dad!Sukuna Series, Mouse is Sukuna's, currently, 2 year old daughter with reader.
Summary: Kenjaku makes a surprise visit and Mouse strikes again. Kids say the dandest things, don't they? (My alternate title for this fic was 'Mouse vs Kenjaku')
If you would prefer to read this story on AO3, click here !
WC: 1900
CW: reader is referred to as 'Mama' and 'Mother' but not described, toddler dad Sukuna, girl dad!sukuna, true form Sukuna (4 arms), it's pretty much Dilf Sukuna fluff and crack, family fluff, Uraume and Kenjaku (Heian era) are bothi n this one, there is 1 swear word, no one likes Kenjaku
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Sukuna sat on the engawa having tea while Mouse roamed around the yard singing a song she made up as she went, picking flowers, piling up leaves and doing a jump occasionally that reminded him of a frog. He had no clue what the little jump was for, why she was doing it or where the hell she had learned it from, but it was keeping her happy and occupied so he said nothing. If he had learned anything thus far in the 2 years he had been a parent, it was to NOT try to make sense of toddlers.
Sukuna raised his head and narrowed his gaze as he felt a powerful curse energy approaching. This visit was unplanned. And you were not going to be a happy camper when you got home if the curse approaching was still here. Mouse apparently sensed the energy too as she froze and looked towards its direction before bolting to him. 
“Papa! Papa! Papa!” She squealed, racing across the yard as fast as her stubby little legs could carry her. He lifted her up when she reached him so she could stand on his thigh. She immediately leaned into him and tangled her hands in his clothes. 
“You're fine, Mouse,” he told her, putting a hand on her back to steady her and soothe her. 
Sukuna was glad you were not there as Kenjaku came into the yard whistling. You couldn't stand him. The nicest thing you had ever said about him was that he was a leech that had latched onto Sukuna’s power and wouldn't let go. He knew you were right, but Kenjaku had talents and knowledge that Sukuna required for his plans. 
“Who is that, Papa?” She asked as Kenjaku strode towards them in a new body. Old one must have served its purpose and been discarded already. 
“Why, Mouse! Don't you recognize me? It's Kenjaku,” the curse said in greeting.
“That him?” She asked in a loud whisper that sounded wholly suspicious. “Him face is different.”
“Yes, it is. That's his curse power,” Sukuna answered. She was a bit too young to know the full details just yet. Maybe in a year or two.
She looked at him and then Kenjaku. She leaned in and asked him yet another question in a loud whisper. “Is Kenjaku a friend, Papa? Mama said-”
“Mouse, go find Uraume so I can speak with Kenjaku. That’s not a request, by the way. I am not asking,” he said, not wanting to know which one of your opinions on Kenjaku she was about to come out of her mouth. You had many of them and none of them were favorable. Not that he cared about the curse’s feelings, but right now he had a need for him. He set her down on the engawa and gave her a little push. “Go. Inside.” 
She gave a hmmmph and walked inside with her little nose turned up and her arms crossed. He heard her pause at the doorway with his sharp hearing. “I know you are still there, Mouse. Go.”
Kenjaku gave it several moments and waited for Sukuna to nod before he spoke. “So how are things here in the world of domestic bliss?”
“What did you come here to speak to me about?” Sukuna replied. He was in no mood for Kenjaku’s bullshit. He was dealing with enough sass from the 2 year old he had just sent inside. 
“What? I can’t stop by to see an old friend?” Kenjaku asked as he poured himself a cup of tea. 
“It’s not your style. And we’re not friends. Lets not start lying to each other after all this time,” Sukuna said.
“Fine. Have it your way. I have figured out how to do what we spoke about,” Kenjaku said. “It is the reason for my taking control of this vessel.”
“Really?” Sukuna was weary. “And have you tried the process yet?”
“Not on a person,” Kenjaku said, he gave Sukuna a side eye. “But are you human? Or are you a curse?”
“A calamity. Come back when you’ve perfected it, and then we will talk seriously,” Sukuna said dryly. He could hear two sets of footsteps heading their way. “Don’t show up here uninvited again.” 
“I do long for the days we could speak freely and for longer. I never needed an invitation before,” Kenjaku almost sounded like he was sulking. 
“You’ve always needed an invitation,” Uraume in greeting as they came out to the engawa, kneeling in respect to Sukuna with a broom in their hand. “Master Sukuna. Mouse said that Kenjaku is here. I came to see if you require anything.” 
“Ura-rau! Use the broom! Use the broom!” Mouse jumped up and down, pumping her fists in the air, directly next to where they kneeled.
“Be quiet, Mouse,” Uraume snapped, still looking down. 
“But Urau-rau…”
“Not yet,” Sukuna answered. He would have to make sure to ask what that was about.
“We were trying to have a discussion,” Kenjaku gave the two new additions a side eye.
“I was picking flowers,” Mouse said, hands up in the air giving the curse a shrug.
“It’s a little different, Mouse,” Kenjaku answered. “This was important.”
Sukuna closed his eyes and shook his head. Was this guy seriously trying to reason with a two year old? Especially that two year old. 
“Mine imbordant too! My flowers were for Mama,” Mouse said emphatically with her hands on her hips, narrowing her eyes on Kenjaku. Without taking her eyes off of the curse in front of her she asked, “Mmmmm, Papa? I can pick more flowers now, please and thank you?”
Sukuna smirked. There it was. Mouse’s famous audacity. He had been waiting for it. “Fine, go.”
“Yay!” she ran over to him and grabbed onto his arm, hugging it and kissing his bicep, looking up at him with a smile. “Thank you, Papa!”
He held her arm and helped her off of the engawa before she skipped off but not before giving Kenjaku a quick victory smirk. The cursed looked at him and said, “She is her mother’s daughter, I see.”
Sukuna snorted in amusement. He couldn’t deny that nor would he want to. He had married someone incredible, one of a kind. Why wouldn’t he want her to be like you?
“And what of it?” Uraume asked, giving Kenjaku a disgusted side glare.
“Oh, not a thing!” Kenjauk said with a smile and wave of his palm. He looked at Sukuna. “You have changed. Don’t lose sight of our plan.”
“Did you need anything more?” Sukuna asked, not in the mood to discuss this further when Kenjaku hadn’t even perfected this technique. The curse needed to prove he could actually do it before Sukuna would discuss it further.  “If not, our business is concluded.”
“As you wish,” Kenjaku said, standing to leave. “I will return after I have confirmed results.”
You came through the gate at that moment, carrying goods from the market. Your smile faltered when you saw the curse standing next to him. Mouse ran to you and hugged your leg, looking up at you with a smile and holding up a handful of weeds. “Flowers for Mama!” 
“They are beautiful. Thank you, Mouse,” you said with a smile, rubbing the back of her head with your free hand.
“It’s okay, Mama. He leaving,” Mouse said, patting the back of your leg reassuringly. 
“Good,” you answered. 
“We will meet again soon,” Kenjaku said to Sukuna before heading out of the yard. He paused in front of you, “A pleasure to see you again.”
“The pleasure is all yours,” you answered with a fake smile.
Kenjaku looked down at Mouse and gave her a smile and a wave. “Bye bye, Mouse! I’ll be back soon!”
“The pleasure is all yours,” Mouse glared at him. 
“Enough, Mouse,” Sukuna said as Uraume choked while trying to suppress laughter behind him.” While he did feel a need to correct her attitude, he would rather his daughter hate Kenjaku than have anything to do with him.
The curse turned up his nose and exited the yard, closing the entrance behind him. Sukuna watched you and your daughter, both smiling and talking between the two of you, discussing what goods you had bought at the market. He was in no rush for his plans to come to fruition. He wanted to enjoy the little moments like these for as long as he possibly could.
“If you have no need of me, Master Sukuna, I would like to go start preparing for dinner. I have decided to make a dessert. Does mochi sound good?” Uraume asked.
He had a feeling they would be making some type of treats this evening as an unspoken thank you to Mouse for their treatment of the curse. “Sounds good to me. You may go.”
Mouse came running to him with you trailing behind. She had one left over flower in her hand as she ran to him. “Papa! Head down, please and thank you!”
He leaned down to her level, curious what she intended to do. He screwed up his face as she not so carefully put the flower behind his ear. 
“All done, Papa! Now you look pretty too!” She kissed his cheek and pulled back, giggling with a smile.
He sat up, the flower still in place and noticed each of you had a flower behind your ear too. He felt ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. But the smiles on both of your faces made him roll his eyes and leave it alone. “Thanks, I guess.”
“You’re welcome, Papa!” Mouse preened before gasping and running away.
“Now what the hell is she doing?” Sukuna asked as he stood, giving you a gentle kiss and taking the bag of goods from your hand. 
“Apparently picking another flower,” you said, watching Mouse hunt for the perfect one for her needs. She found it, snatched it up and came running back. 
“I be right back,” she told the two of you, clambering up onto the engawa and taking off running yelling out at the top of her lungs, “Uraume? Where you go? I gonna find you!”
“Don’t,” came the equally loud reply.
“I’m guessing everyone is getting a flower adornment,” Sukuna said with forced disgust as he glanced down at you.
“It’s not so bad, besides,” you said, tilting your head back, a sign he had learned meant you wanted kisses. He obliged and brought his head down. You cupped his face and kiss him before moving to walk away and looking over your shoulder, “It suits you.” With that, you walked away.
He had every intention of drying and keeping the flower, but he would not let either of you know and he would not let that slide. A flower accessory suiting the King of Curses? And not even a fucking poisonous one? Ridiculous!
Giving in to the absurdity he recently found himself being faced with regularly these days, he stormed after you calling out, “The hell it does! Take that back!”
“No take backs!” you called over your shoulder with a smirk on your face.
“I’ll show you no take backs, brat,” he growled under his breath. He’d wipe that smirk right off your face. His suffering had no end in sight. But what sweet, sweet suffering it was.  
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mythalism · 3 days ago
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[ emerging from ur walls ] idk where that trick weekes stuff ab solas being reminded of someone by romanced inq came from nor do i care but i also had a thought like mostly bc i made my inq a rogue and more "no i'm not god no i'm not a messiah please leave me alone" reply played in the game but the parallel between solas being coaxed into having a physical body and proceeding to go deeper into the abyss that is personhood, and becoming an instrument of war whilst still being honored/shamed as a god & general parallels directly that of the inquisitor's journey (TO ME!)
cassandra & co. want you to admit andraste sent you, and you can deny all you want as a player but they'll keep hammering it down your throat (ok bioware. *i explode it w my mind*) and once they realize faith is not enough, they give you the title of inquisitor. suddenly you're not just a divine being sent to herald the people, you're also their sword, their shield. the same way fen'harel / dread wolf becomes a name no longer associated with the protection & guidance of mythal & her people and as the cruel god / rebellious general who doomed the evanuris, and a leader to the enslaven who seek freedom.
it is evident in both his & inquisitors stories that faith is not enough, people cannot cling to mere religious symbols, they need somebody willing to bleed for them. (the way the dalish later on rework fen'harel as cruel, and the way you meet people as inq who spit on you as a blasphemer in the name of andraste even though you can choose to say i never said i was a herald! it was forced upon me! let me out!!!)
like there can obvs be more than one story parallel (big if true for some people) but i always found it curious that if you romance him he fixates on talking about the inquisitors spirit. wanna get sumn off your chest puppy boy?
anyway the mortifying idea that neither inquisitor nor solas were allowed to be who they once were before they became instruments of war and only through their relationship / friendship do they find those silent moments where they don't play roles assigned to them by their gods, their people, or their generals and can just be as who they are to their core. not weapons, not martyrs, just pure beings. worms if you will.
10/10 banger no notes. just adding this from an ask i answered a week or two ago about how the solavellan ending so wonderfully wraps up this theme:
they are at once both finally free of the burdens of the myths and expectations that follow them as the dread wolf and the herald of andraste because they have left the mortal world that forced them into those roles and stripped them of their personhood, but they have also completely submitted themselves to those roles by submitting to the logical conclusion of the myths that they could not escape. for the dread wolf, it is earning his redemption through his willing submission to his own trap. its the logical, full-circle mythological conclusion to the trickster who trapped the gods, now trapped for eternity himself (allegedly, he will prob eventually break out... even loki gets his freedom during ragnarok...). for the inquisitor, it is andraste's herald finally sharing andraste's fate, choosing to leave the mortal world behind to ascend to the golden city alongside the god that she loves. both (presumably, for a lavellan) have tried to reject the myths attached to them over and over and over, but in the end they choose them willingly, and that choice at once binds them to those myths forever while simultaneously freeing them from the burden of them. its giving oedipal greek tragedy of attempting to outrun your fate and it finding you anyway, just when you thought you were finally making your own choice, but with a hopeful and bittersweet spin. its actually fucking insanely brilliant when i think about it this way it makes me genuinely foam at the mouth.
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yourstrulysylus · 16 hours ago
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Midnight kitchen
The foyer of his house smelled appetizing the familiar sounds of frying pans and the soup boiling made his mouth water after a long day of business affairs he clearly anticipated of what’s being made. Sylus sees her standing in the kitchen eyes completely focused as she chops some green onions using her favorite wooden chopping board he secretly smiled to himself as it gave him pleasure that she uses one of his gifts.
One of the favorite things about this pretty little chef of his is that she cleans as she goes he appreciated the fact that the area she worked at not a mess was in sight and the sink was almost dish-free. He adored the way she was organized without burning a single meal and how she’s meticulously careful with sharp objects.
He made his presence known by clearing his throat as she was now stirring the pot on the stove.
She looked up at his gaze and welcomed him with a smile. His heart swelled at the sight before him he closed the distance between them, standing by her side. He leaned against the counter watching her work the aroma of the food getting stronger.
“So what are we having for tonight?” he asked
“I’m making you a traditional korean dish called kimchi jjigae and dakgangjeong for dinner,” she responded with a smile “here taste this.”
He took a spoonful of the dish savoring the flavors across his palate the spicy and fermented kimchi added a rich and flavorful kick while the soft yet pungent kimchi provided a comforting warmth - back then his former chefs would prepare Sylus a medium rare steak, a veal or an italian pasta with meatballs on it to add some red meat for his diet however this one tasted like home.
“Mmm… this is delicious in fact let me try some more.” She gave him another clean spoon she liked the fact that he came back for seconds.
“I’m starving shall we go eat?” He usually doesn’t ask his chefs to accompany him for dinner and it’s the first time he saw she was holding back. “Oh, well it’s almost done sir I’ll serve it once you settle at the table.” Given her professional response he nodded but wasn’t satisfied with her answer.
He went to the dining area where he sees the table completely set for one. He frowned a little as if it’s almost reminding him how alone he was. Candle lights, table napkins, clean utensils and a clean plate all waiting for him. He went back to the kitchen immediately realizing that he should be with her eating beside him instead. He sat down at the kitchen island where she promptly prepared basic place mats.
He smiled at her once again giving her the impression that this is where he decided to dine she quickly understood as if they were of one mind. He watches as she sets the food down on the counter the bowl of kimchi jjigae and the plate of dakgangjeong looked tempting.
“Looks good, chef.” She nodded pleased with his approval.
“Dig in.”
He didn’t need to be told twice he began taking a spoonful of the kimchi jjigae first the flavors were just as delicious as the first couple of bites the spice was well balanced out with other seasonings providing the dish with a perfect symphony of taste.
“This is really good,” he said as he took a small bite of the dakgangjeong appreciating the flavor from the crispy chicken coated with sweet and tangy sauce. “You have really outdone yourself with this one.”
She giggled at his compliment, never before in his entire life felt his heart warmed more in that blissful moment.
“You really enjoy cooking don’t you?” He asked still eating
“I do.”
He nodded appreciating her passion. “It shows in your work,” he complimented. “You put so much effort into the dishes you make its impressive.”
“Thank you, Sylus.” a light blush appeared in her cheeks
Bingo.
“Why don’t you join me? There’s more than enough for one person.” He watched her take off her apron and folded it placing it neatly on the counter his gaze softened as she made her way to his side silently grateful that she didn’t fight it anymore she ate right beside him taking a comfortable silence.
He felt like this is their new beginning and when the time comes that she would let him court her he’d be more than happy to settle down in a heartbeat.
collaborated with @kindalonely-ngl 🫶🏻
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