#but have you considered dark healer will

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Nurture.

Paring: Yan!Geto Suguru x Reader x Yan!Gojo Satoru (JJK).

A Continuation Of Nursle.

Word Count: 11.0k.

TW: Dub/Con, Non/Con, Fem!Reader, Unhealthy Relationships, Emotional Manipulation, Implied Imprisonment, Mentions of Pregnancy/Childbirth, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Unprotected Sex, Implied Semi-Public Sex, Forced Marriage, Panic Attacks/Disassociation, Mentions of Stalking, and Nonchronological Timelines. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

You were never supposed to meet Geto Suguru.

It’d been a misstep in the never-ending trudge that was the cosmic timeline; a mistake on behalf of the universe that left you on the doorstep of his temple, glancing between the rustic entryway and the scrap of paper one of your student’s mothers had slipped into your hand a few weeks prior. “They should be able to help with your little problem,” she’d explained with a wink, a knowing glance towards your stiff shoulders, the dark bags under your eyes. “One visit, and you’ll feel like a teenager again.”

You’d smiled politely and told her that you’d give it a try and shoved her note into a drawer below your desk to be swiftly forgotten. You went to a doctor, then a chiropractor, then a psychologist, then briefly considered making an appointment with a fortune teller before finally relenting and deciding that you were, in fact, desperate enough for a miracle healer. It took three trains, two taxis, and more than a handful of helpful strangers, but you’d arrived at the messily scrawled address in one piece. You could still turn around, try your luck with another specialist, another bottle of over-the-counter sleeping pills – sane solutions that sane people fell back on when they encountered problems that sane people had. You could go back to your flat, your ever-growing pile of ungraded tests, and pretend you’d never been here at all. You could do the thing that crazy, desperate people didn’t do, and you could leave.

You took a deep breath, braced yourself, and crossed into the entryway.

An attendant caught you as soon as you’d stepped inside. He was male, middle-aged, wearing the most strained, plastered-on smile you’d ever seen as he bowed his head to you. After a moment of nervous delay, you returned the gesture. “I—Uh, a friend of mine pointed me in your direction,” you stuttered out, doing your best to speak through your anxiety. “She said your head priest could…”

You trailed off, struggling to find the right words. Thankfully, the attendant cut in before you could make yourself look like a complete moron. “Geto-sama?” Impossibly, his smile widened even further. “You’ve come to the right place - he’s a truly miraculous healer. He’s seeing another poor, suffering soul at the moment, but you’re free to wait outside of his sanctuary.”

With a quick nod and a few words of thanks, you were swiftly taken to and abandoned in a small sitting room that, you could only guess, led into the innermost shrine. You sunk into a remarkably uncomfortable wooden chair and managed to sit still for all of three seconds before looking for your next distraction. Thankfully, it wasn’t hard to find.

Two girls sat on the other side of the room; sisters, you guessed, if not twins. One (Mimiko – it’d still be a few days before you learned her name) was perched on the edge of a chair identical to your own while the other (Nanako) sat cross-legged on the floor between her legs, fiddling with a hand-held console as her sister tried and failed to braid her hair. You couldn’t help yourself – a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips as you watched Mimiko clumsily fumble with the messily divided strands of hair, her frustration written clearly across her expression. You’d always been comfortable around kids, as much as you never wanted to have your own. You didn’t know much about healing priests or mystic illnesses, but you knew how to handle a struggling seven-year-old.

When she looked away from her work, seeming to notice you for the first time, you offered her a bright smile, a quick wave. “Having a hard time?” you asked, gesturing towards her messy handiwork. “I can show you a few tricks, if you’d like.”

There was a long moment of hesitation, a quick look shared with her sister. “I understand if you don’t trust my credentials, but…” You fished out a few spare hair-ties out of your pocket: bright pink and adorned with equally garish bows, the color and design enough to make Nanako’s eyes light up. One of your more absent-minded students tended to forget hers, and you’d gotten into the habit of carrying a healthy stockpile on her behalf. “I did bring my own supplies.”

A few minutes later, you found yourself dutifully combing out Mimiko’s hair while Nanako admired her new pigtails. They seemed reluctant to talk to you, but you did your best to make polite conversation – well, as much as you could with two stand-offish grade schoolers. “Are you two waiting for someone?”

Mimiko pursed her lips, but Nanako wasn’t so shy. “Our dad,” she filled in, the kind of pride only an idealistic child could have for a parent heavy in her voice. “He hates monkeys.”

“Oh.” You did your best to sound surprised, rather than confused. “Does he work for the temple?”

“Mhm – he’s really strong, and super important.” She waited for you to num in acknowledgement, then went on. “You’re here to see him, right? He can definitely help you, if you are.”

Your hands faltered, a lock of Mimiko’s hair slipping out of your loose hold. “Your father’s… the head priest?”

Nanako nodded enthusiastically, and for the first time, Mimiko chimed in, “He’ll probably get rid of your creepy friend.”

This time, you stopped moving entirely. “I’m sorry, my friend?”

Mimiko glanced over her shoulder, moved to speak, but the screen door leading into the shrine slid open before she could answer you. It wasn’t an attendant, this time, but a man in monk’s garb with hair that reached past his shoulders and a grin less strained but just as artificial as that of his attendants. Geto Suguru, although it’d still be some time before you knew to call him that.

His dark eyes found you first, before moving to his daughters. “Girls,” he started, tone more playful than chiding. “Are you bothering my guests?”

The twins exchanged a long, weighty look before Nanako pushed herself to her feet and hurried to her father’s side. With a sigh of mock exasperation, he leaned down, letting her whisper something into his ear as you rushed to finish Mimiko’s braid. You couldn’t make out what she was saying, but it was enough to earn a pair of pursed lips from Suguru, a languid shake of his head. Without responding to her, he straightened his back, already ushering you inside. You took a deep breath, then followed him into the shrine.

He made no attempt to put on a show of false hospitality. Wordlessly, he left you loitering in the center of the very empty, very large room while he stepped onto a raised platform and collapsed onto his side, propping his elbow on a cushioned, stand-alone armrest. This time, when he sighed, it seemed to be out of a more genuine exhaustion, his eyes falling shut briefly as he propped his chin on his fist and brought his free hand to his temples. “I have to apologize for my daughters. If I could watch them constantly, it still wouldn’t be enough.” He opened his eyes, and instantly, you felt the full weight of his stare. If it hadn’t been a feeling you were so used to, it might’ve been enough to send a chill down your spine. “Now, how can I be of service to you?”

You dug your teeth into the inside of your cheek, fighting the urge to fidget. “I’ve been having trouble sleeping, lately. There’s been this weight on my back, like—”

“Like you’re being watched?”

He spoke confidently, as if answering a question he’d written himself. With your hands clenched into fists at your sides, you nodded. Suguru’s head lulled to the side, his smile taking on a satisfied lilt. “I thought so. Tell me – have you had any scorned lovers in the past? Boyfriends, fiancés, that type of thing?”

“A stalker,” you admitted. “But, he passed a few months ago. There was an accident, and—”

This time, he cut you off with a snap of his fingers. It was brief, barely a flash of movement, but you caught something in the corner of your eye – an amorphous shape perched above your right shoulder, a thousand eyes spotted across its baggy skin and a hundred curling tentacles wrapped around your arms, your chest, your stomach. You shut your eyes, winced, and when you opened them again, the creature was gone and Suguru held a small, pitch-black marble between his thumb and forefinger. He took a second to evaluate it before letting out an approving hum and bringing the marble to his lips, swallowing it whole. In your shock, it didn’t even occur to you to look away.

“These things tend to linger.” It was a meager explanation, but you accepted it whole-heartedly. For the first time in months, you were able to straighten your back, to drop your shoulders, to stand up without a single part of you crying out in protest. You might’ve cried, if you hadn’t been so relieved.

“Thank you,” you nearly gasped, bowing at the waist. “Oh my god, I— I don’t have much money, but—”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly ask for compensation. Consider this—” A click of his tongue, a roll of his wrist. “—a favor between friends. The most I could ask for is a little of your time, in return.”

You would’ve given him your first-born child, if he’d asked for it. “Of course, anything. I really can’t thank you enough, sir.”

“It’s just— I’ve been trying to find a tutor for my daughters for the longest time, and they already seem fond of you.” For the first time since you’d stepped into his shrine, he sat up, facing you directly. “I understand that you’re a teacher?”

You left the temple a few minutes later, a new number programmed into your phone and a smile brighter than anything you’d worn in years painted across your lips.

~

You moved in with Satoru the same day he met Himari – as much being told to shove everything you couldn’t live without in a bag because you wouldn’t be coming back to your apartment could be called moving. You would’ve fought it more, but he’d been holding your daughter, and you couldn’t take that kind of risk with her. Not again.

Time seemed to pass in slow, thick clumps. Hours would pass in the blink of an eye and seconds would drag on and on and on until you couldn’t stand the idea of pretending you cared, anymore. A nursery was thrown together in one of Satoru’s guestrooms. When you mentioned that you’d never slept so far from her, Satoru cooed and kissed your cheek.

“It’ll be alright, baby. I’ve got enough monitors to last ‘till she’s eighteen. And, no offense, they’re a little more reliable than what you’ve been using.” Another kiss, this one to the corner of your jaw. “Besides, I don’t think you’ll want her sharing a room with us.”

Something pricked at the back of your throat. “I could sleep in here, with—”

“Nope.” He was kind enough to shut you down before you could so much as start to get your hopes up. “Honestly, she should count herself lucky I’m willing to share at all.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to respond. Instead, you closed your eyes, and when you found the strength to open them again, the world was dark and your body was cold.

~

Once the novelty wore off, you fell into a steady routine. Once or twice a week, you’d make the trip to Suguru’s temple and do your best to drill seven years’ worth of public education into Mimiko and Nanako while their father saw his unfortunate visitors. They were smart girls, even if they were more interested in your love life than multiplication tables, and when you thought about Suguru had done for you, you couldn’t say you minded spending a few hours of your weekend in a scenic, rural temple surrounded by Suguru’s (sometimes off-putting, but never unpleasant) congregation.

It took two months before you saw Suguru’s composure slip. It’d been a mistake – an accident on your part as much as it was on his – but you hadn’t thought of it in such fatalistic terms in the moment.

You kept your hands in your pockets as you wandered through the temple’s courtyard, stretching your legs while the girls finished a worksheet on long division (chosen by Nanako over English contractions, much to Mimiko’s protest). Idly, eager to give them as much time as you could, you made your way around the inner sanctum’s perimeter, rounding a sharp corner before abruptly coming to a stop.

Geto sat on the edge of the raised porch, eyes closed and his shoulder braced against the side of a support beam. You moved to flee, to apologize for interrupting his meditation, but you noticed his hunched posture, his slightly parted lips, and let out a breath of a laugh, your panic fading into pity.

Ah, the poor thing.

He was so tired, he’d fallen asleep sitting up.

As little as you’d expected to see a grown man sleeping in public, you weren’t surprised. Suguru was always running himself ragged; either hosting guests or holding sermons or running errands on the temple’s behalf, always coming back with a certain weight to his steps and an off-kilter quirk to his smile. With a sigh, you kneeled next to him and after a moment of hesitation, shrugged off your coat, taking care not to wake him as you draped it over his shoulders. Immediately, he relaxed – an ounce of the tension in his shoulders dissolving as he slumped into himself. You’d considered waking him up, but decided against it. Your own months of sleepless nights and never-ending days were still fresh in your memory. You didn’t want to be the reason he missed out on a few precious minutes of much-needed rest.

You heard a screen door slide open, a high-pitched voice call your name from the other side of the temple. You pushed yourself to your feet, but paused, spared another glance toward Suguru. It was a stupid, spontaneous thing to do, you didn’t give yourself time to think better of it before brushing his bangs away from his face and pressing a kiss into his forehead – the kind of kiss you’d give to one of your students in the wake of scraped knees and playground arguments. When he failed to stir, you pulled back and crossed your arms over your chest, doing your best to keep yourself warm as you started back to where his girls were waiting for you.

~

Satoru was at your door as soon as the bell rang.

Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you must’ve known he wouldn’t give up old patterns so easily. He loitered in the hallway while your hyper-active students filtered out, slipped inside as the last of the stranglers did their best not to gawk at the inhumanely tall stranger with unnaturally white hair. By the time he crossed the threshold, you and Megumi were the only ones left, the latter dutifully waiting for his daily busy work at the corner of your desk.

Satoru acknowledged him with a click of his tongue, a quick ruffle to Megumi’s hair before he moved onto you. “There’s my pretty girl,” he half-said, half-sung as he slung an arm around your neck, pulling you into his chest. “Had you on my mind all day. Couldn’t stop wishin’ I had your pretty ti—”

You cleared your throat into your hand, nodding pointedly towards Megumi. Satoru’s grin faltered, then collapsed into a pursed-lipped frown. He didn’t say anything, but his thumb dug into your shoulder, his cruel eyes flickering to you over the dark lenses of his glasses. You didn’t need any further instruction. If Suguru taught you anything, it’d been how to get rid of unwanted company.

“Megumi.” You waved him toward you, and despite the mix of distrust and exasperation written clearly across his expression, he stepped forward. Still, you braced yourself before going on. As little as you wanted to associate him with Satoru, to blame him for what Satoru did to you, you hadn’t been able to meet his eyes all day. Whenever you looked at him, you couldn’t help but think about Himari, and whenever you thought about Himari—

“You usually walk home with Tsumiki today, right?” He didn’t, but you couldn’t think of a better excuse. Lately, it was all you could do to put one word in front of another, let alone actually manage to clear away enough of the thick, buzzing static clouding your mind to form an intelligent thought. “You should really get going, before she starts to think you left without her.”

His gaze dropped to the ground. He mumbled something just a breath below audible, and you forced yourself to smile. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

“I don’t want to leave you alone with him.” His tone was clipped, his eyes narrowed. “He’s… He’s gross, and weird, and you shouldn’t talk to him.”

If he’d been any other kid, if Satoru had been any other adult, you might’ve laughed, chided him for speaking so rudely about his elders. Instead, you only sighed, your smile faltering as you brought a hand to his shoulder. “We’re just going to have a little chat, that’s all. I promise, I’ll be just fine when we see each other tomorrow.” You paused, lowered your voice into something playfully conspiratorial. “Between you and me, I think he’s pretty weird too. Thanks for looking out for me.”

His scowl deepened, but he didn’t protest. After tossing one more glare in Satoru’s direction, he trudged out of your classroom, letting the door slam behind him. You didn’t have time to feel relief or dread or much of anything before Satoru was on top of you – his knee planted between your thighs, one of his hands groping at your waist while the other caught your chin, holding you in place while his lips crashed into yours, the kiss mess and open-mouthed and desperate. “The brat’s annoying,” he muttered, as he pulled away. “But I can’t say I don’t see where he’s coming from. If you’d been my teacher, I don’t think I would’ve been able to stop myself from bending you over your desk ‘n earning a little extra credit.”

A wave of nausea washed over you. You couldn’t stop yourself from buckling forward, but Satoru had already moved on, found his way to the side of your neck. “Please, don’t talk about my students like—”

Your voice gave out as he bit down – burying his teeth in your throat in less of a love-bite and more of an effort to eat you alive. You barely managed to stop yourself from crying out, but panic quickly swallowed whatever pain you might’ve felt. It’d leave a mark, one you wouldn’t be able to hide, not completely. Against your will, your mind flashed to Megumi and, if you’d been just a little weaker, you might’ve collapsed, passed out while Satoru lapped the blood now trickling down your throat. If you’d been just a little luckier, you might’ve fallen apart entirely.

Your hands shot to his hair, and Satoru let out a throaty groan. His hands fell to your thighs, and before you could so much as think to struggle, you were laid across your desk, folders and worksheets pushed aside in favor of trapping your body underneath his. “Always wanted to do this,” he muttered into your shoulder, already pulling your skirt to your waist. “Might have to go into teaching, too – just so you can return the favor.”

He might’ve gone on, but you were done listening.

You would have to request a change of classroom, tomorrow morning.

~

Nanako returned your coat to you a week later, rolling on the balls of her feet and grinning from ear to ear.

You saw Suguru more often, after that.

Granted, not too often, and never for very long. He was still a busy man, and most of your interactions were limited to minute-long conversations as you found each other heading in the same direction, a few niceties exchanged as you dropped Nanako and Mimiko off at the door of his shrine. He never struck you as overly guarded, but you could count the number of times you’d heard him speak about himself on a single hand. If it hadn’t been for his girls, you probably would never have learned his given name.

Winter had begun its swift and relentless approach, and you found yourself standing outside of the temple’s gates, watching the sun slip below the horizon and debating if it would be worth it to cough up the cash for a taxi, rather than dragging yourself through the labyrinth that was public transportation in the dark. As you checked your phone for the dozenth time, you caught a flash of movement in your peripheral and glanced up only to find Suguru – changed out of his monk’s garb and into a plain shirt and a pair of sweatpants that made him look more like an exhausted college student than the head of his own temple. He nodded to you by way of greeting, and you flashed him a smile. “Waiting for someone?”

“Something like that.” You looked back to your phone and sighed. “I might have to make our next session a little earlier. I forgot how dark it could get and, well, you know what it’s like in the city.”

You withered, but Suguru only brightened. “Let me give you a ride.”

“Are you sure? I’d hate to—”

“Please, (Y/n).” You could see why he had such a dedicated congregation. When he spoke, it was impossible not to listen. “Just think of it as a favor between friends.”

You wanted to refuse, to tell him not to waste his time, but a streetlamp buzzed to life somewhere above you and the last trace of your resolve crumbled. A few minutes later, you were in the back of a sleek, black car – Suguru sitting next to you and his driver hidden behind a tinted partition. More time than you would’ve liked passed in tense silence before you, more motivated by discomfort than gratitude, broke the quiet. “I was surprised when I found out Nanako and Mimiko were homeschooled.” Before he could respond, you realized how it must’ve sounded and tried to backtrack. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that! It’s just—you’re always so busy, and they’re such bright girls. I’m sure that, if you ever did want to get them enrolled, they’d do very well. It’d free up a lot of your time, too.”

You thought you saw him wince, but it could’ve just been a trick of the light. By the time you turned to face him properly, his expression was unreadable – his lips pulled into a thin line and his dark eyes focused on some unseen point in the distance. “I probably shouldn’t be telling you this,” he admitted, before letting an airy sigh. “But… I made a lot of bad choices, when I first took them in. The were a bad situation, and I was young and stupid, and I— I think I might’ve fucked things up. For them, at least. I probably would’ve ended up in the same place eventually.” Another sigh, a lengthy pause. When he went on, his tone was heavier, his usual confidence greatly diminished, if not absent entirely. “…you don’t think I made a mistake, do you?”

You took a second to think, letting your eyes fall to your lap. “I don’t,” you said, finally. “The girls seem happy, and you’re providing for them. They won’t have normal lives, but—” You hummed, shrugged. “Who does?”

He seemed to relax, the harsh edges of his expression dulling. His eyes shifted to you. “You’re not going to tell anyone, right?”

This time, you didn’t hesitate at all, shaking your head with a slight smile. “Consider it,” You let your tone dip into something teasing and secretive, raising your chin the way he tended to when talking to guests and members of his congregation. “a favor between friends.”

Your showmanship earned a dry chuckle, a softened gaze. After a long beat, he asked, “Would you mind if I, uh…” He trailed off, tugged at the collar of his shirt. “Would you mind if I tried something?”

Now, it was your turn to laugh. You’d assumed he was in his mid-twenties, but he must’ve been younger – he was acting like a teenager. “Go ahead, Suguru.”

Despite your reassurance, he stalled for a few seconds before, more than a little stiltedly, bending at his waist and resting his head gingerly on your lap. It was an awkward position, the back of the car too cramped for him to lay down properly, but his eyes fell shut and after the initial shock faded, you could only smile, raising a hand and combing your fingers idly through his hair. When you pulled the elastic band holding his half-bun together out of place, letting his hair fall loose over your thighs, he didn’t protest, only going that much more limp on top of you.

You two stayed that way for the rest of the trip; his head in your lap, your finger carding through his hair, the only noise that of traffic and the occasional muted hum when your attention started to drift. It was only when his driver pulled onto the curb in front of your complex that Suguru raised his head, blinking himself back into consciousness. You turned to let yourself out, only to feel him take up one of your hands – his fingers soon intertwined with yours. You didn’t have time to ask him what he was doing before you felt him cup your cheek, before you felt his mouth against yours.

The kiss was gentle but warm, shallow but lingering. He held you there, his lips barely yours, for a second, then another, before you snapped out of it and pulled away – your disgust as immediate as it was it was self-concentrated. If Suguru felt the same way, he hid it well. You could only make out the slightest trace of hurt in the down-turned corners of his parted lips.

He started to say something, but you were already rushing to apologize. “I’m sorry, Suguru. You’re a sweet kid, but I’m—” You forced yourself to laugh, the noise jolting and strained. “I’m nearly twice your age.”

He pursed his lips. “I don’t care how old you are.”

“Exactly.” You shook your head, dragging a hand over your face. “I’m so, so sorry. I should’ve been more clear about, I don’t know,” You gestured vaguely. “—everything. And I should really—”

Again, you moved to leave, and again, he stopped you. This time, he caught you by the wrist. “I’m not a kid.” You tried to pull away from him, but his grip tightened. You felt something in your forearm begin to ache. “If you don’t believe me, I’ll show you how serious I am.”

“Absolutely not.” You pried the door open and jerked away from him just in time to stumble out of his car and onto the pavement. You saw his posture straighten, his body tense as if he was going to try to lunge at you, but mercifully, he must’ve thought better of it. His anger was, instead, focused entirely into his unblinking stare, and you did your best to speak in spite of the way his eyes burnt into your chest. “I… I think it would be for the best if we didn’t see each other, for a while. Tell the girls I’m out of town, and—” You swallowed, dryly. “—I think you should get some rest, Suguru. You need it.”

As awful as it made you feel, you slammed the door shut before he could respond. He didn’t try to chase you, but his car hadn’t moved by the time you made it to your flat. With your doors locked and your blinds pulled shut, you watched it until, hours after midnight, you nodded off.

He was gone when you woke up, and you could only hope he’d be mature enough to mind his distance.

~

Satoru’s face was buried between your thighs when you heard his phone ring, his hands curled around your thighs and your body perched on the edge of one of his rarely used marble counters. You would’ve missed it entirely if you’d been a little closer to the edge, if he’d been just a little nosier as he moaned and grunted into your cunt, but you weren’t, and he wasn’t, and the sound of that melodic dial-tone cut through the haze like a knife through fog (relatively ineffective, but still violent enough to draw attention). You straightened as much as you could, combing your fingers through his hair and tugging, gently. “Satoru, I think—”

“It’s not important,” he muttered against your thigh, drawing back just far enough to be audible. “’s probably just the kids. They said they were coming over, but—” He flashed you a smile, bright eyes catching the light. “They can wait ‘till we’re done. I can’t just leave my pretty girl unsatisfied.”

Immediately, the haze stiffened and shattered into a panic-inducing, heart-racing clarity. You straightened, cursed under your breath, but Satoru tongue was already lapping over your soaked slit, the bridge of his nose grinding against your clit as he all-but worshipped your pussy. This time, you didn’t tug, but pulled – doing what little you could to pry him off of you, but all you earned was a throaty whine, his fingertips dug that much deeper into the plush of your ass. His tongue bullied its way past your clenching entrance, curling and thrusting, and it took everything you had not to snap your thighs shut around his head, not to give him what he wanted. “Satoru,” you spat, using the same tone you’d put on for a misbehaving student. “S-stop.”

It was more of an instinct than a decision, more of a reflex than a choice, but either way, it didn’t seem to make a difference. With his eyes blearily focused on your expression, his mouth latched onto your pussy like it was the last thing he’d ever taste, he fucked you open with his tongue until your toes were curling, your legs twitching, your vision burning pure white in a way that made you wish you could give up on sight altogether. He nursed you through your climax until the last of your energy was spent before pushing himself to his feet and slamming his mouth into yours – his teeth cutting into your lips and your taste heavy on his tongue. By the time he pulled away, you were panting and he was wearing that awful, careless grin. You never thought you’d miss Suguru’s calculated smile, and yet.

And yet.

You didn’t have time to be angry. The kids came first – a thought that, if you’d given yourself a chance to linger on it, would’ve been more of a cause for concern. “Go clean yourself up, I’ll take care of the kitchen. Call them back as soon as you’re finished.”

“I love it when you get bossy,” he said, with a dreamy sigh. “It’s hot in a, like, ‘put me over your knee and spank me’ way, y’know?”

Your only response was a quick shake of your head, a repulsed curl of your lips. Satoru only laughed, pecking your cheek and burying his face in the crook of your neck. “They’ll love you. Megumi likes to act shy, but he can’t shut up about you. Tsumiki’ll just be ecstatic to have a baby sister,” he mumbled into your throat. “You wouldn’t break their hearts, would you?”

It might’ve hurt less, if there hadn’t already been two little girls somewhere in Japan who knew that you absolutely would.

~

You called Suguru from the curb in front of your flat, your head in your hands and tears streaming openly down your cheeks. He let it ring once, twice, before answering. You could practically hear the smile in his voice, practically feel the smugness in his tone. “I thought we weren’t talking, dear?”

You swallowed back another ragged sob. “It’s back.”

He was there within the hour – alone, this time, no girls and no driver. You stayed where you were as he let himself into your flat, returning only a few minutes later with a thoughtful hum and a thin frown playing on his lips. “It’s rare, but it does happen,” he started, as he sat down next to you. He was dressed in street clothes, rather than his monk’s garb. Somehow, that only made it more difficult to look at him. “Particularly restless spirits can lie dormant before reappearing stronger and more attached to their living host. A standard exorcism might no longer be enough to banish it.”

You felt something heavy and pointed drop into the pit of your stomach. Calling it 'stronger' was an understatement – you couldn’t believe something so massive, something so awful had ever been attached to you. When you let your mind wander, you could still see its dripping, pitch-black arms writhing over the walls and ceiling of your bedroom, still feel its countless eyes burning into you – a hundred, no, a thousand times worse than it’d been when Suguru had first sent it away. You buckled at the waist, burying your face in your knees, and Suguru rested a hand on your back, rubbing slow circles into your shoulder. You were thankful for the comfort, even if it would’ve taken you another few weeks to completely forget the feeling of his hand around your wrist. “Can you…” You cringed, shrunk into yourself. “Can you help?”

“Oh, absolutely.” If he’d been just a little more cocky, he would’ve been purring. “But I’m afraid it’ll cost you more than a favor, this time.”

“I’ll do anything.”

“I know.” His hand went still, settling on your shoulder. “But I need you to give me something, this time.”

You didn’t hesitate. “Anything,” you repeated, with all the desperation of a sinner laid bare before the altar. “Please, Suguru. Anything.”

“I need an heir.”

You could practically feel your heart split open and shatter inside of you. “…an heir?”

“For the sake of my congregation,” he said, like that explained anything. “We’ll have to get married first, of course. You’ll be taken care of until the child’s born, and then, you’ll be free to go.” His hand fell to your own, squeezing gently. “Or to stay with us, if that’s what you prefer.”

Any other time, the idea alone would’ve been enough to make you sick. Any other day, you would’ve told him that he could have anything, anything but that.

But, in the moment, all you could seem to think about was your flat and the monster inside of it. You felt yourself nod and, before you could take it back, heard Suguru laugh, felt his lips against your temple. “You’re making the right choice,” he muttered, the words nearly lost against your skin. “I love you.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to say it back.

~

Tsumiki and Megumi were asleep in the guest room turned makeshift nursery. Megumi had been slow to warm, quick to hear Satoru introduce you as his ‘one and only’ and assume the worst (which, to be fair, wasn’t exactly wrong), but Tsumiki hadn’t been so stand-offish, and ultimately, whatever concerns an eight year old could have for your safety crumbled under his sister’s desire to fawn over your newborn. You were glad. You didn’t want him to worry about you. That was a mistake you’d made with Nanako and Mimiko. You’d let Suguru give them a reason to care if you left, and then, you’d left.

Your gaze drifted to Himari. She’d always loved attention (a trait you could only assume she’d inherited from her father), and she’d spent most of the afternoon and the entire evening basking in Tsumiki and Megumi’s adoration. Currently, she was sitting in your lap, giggling and clapping her hands together as you idly bounced her on your knee. The sight alone was enough to make your heart soar – any thoughts of Satoru and his wards fading into the background as you leaned forward and peppered her tiny face with kisses. It was a miracle that you loved her at all, let alone as much as you did. Pregnancy hadn’t been kind to you, and it wasn’t until the moment she was born that you could stand to think of yourself as a mother of a child, rather than just the incubator to a cultist’s pipedream. You’d never wanted children, but now that you had one, you couldn’t imagine letting anything in the world take her away from you.

Maybe, if he’d been a little kinder to her, if he hadn’t already had two daughters to spoil and adore, you might’ve been able to justify loving Himari less than you did, might’ve been able to leave her in his care when you pried a window open and fled in the middle of the night. He’d never been cruel to her, but no part of you believed that he wouldn’t have been if she’d failed to do what she’d been made for – if your love for her hadn’t been enough to keep you by his side. Even if you hadn’t loved her at all, you still would’ve taken her with you. No child deserved to be left in the care of a monster like Suguru.

You choose, deliberately, to only think about Himari, to tell yourself that you only ever had to think about Himari. You couldn’t afford to break your own heart a second time.

Choosing not to think about Megumi and Tsumiki proved more difficult.

~

It was a courthouse wedding, the ceremony little more than a few signatures and a hesitant ‘congratulations’ from the officiant. Suguru’s assistant – a blonde woman who looked at you with equal parts sympathy and disgust – acted as the witness. Suguru explained that, after your first child was born, there would be a more elaborate ceremony, something with rings and dresses and flowers that the girls could participate in. You were too dissociated to point out that there wasn’t supposed to be anything after the child was born, let alone something that would leave you that much more bound to him.

You expected him to take you back to your flat, or the villa on the outskirts of the city you’d visited a handful of times when he couldn’t meet you at his temple, but instead, you found yourself standing in front of one of the tallest, brightest hotels you’d ever seen. “It is a special occasion,” he said, as you stared blankly at the entrance. “I wouldn’t be a good husband if I didn’t spoil my wife now and then, right?”

“Please,” you muttered, nearly under your breath. “Don’t call me that.”

“Whatever you say, my love.” His smile was giddier than you’d ever seen it, amusement heavy in his voice. “Let me give you a hand.”

The interior was no less agonizing than the exterior. You could feel a hundred pairs of eyes burning into you as you hung off Surugu’s arm, your own legs too weak to be trusted to support you. Rather than relief, dread coiled in the pit of your stomach as he led you to your room – a suite on the highest floor. You considered, briefly, trying to tell him that you were afraid of heights, but decided against it. Even in your own head, it sounded too childish to be believable, and you couldn’t imagine dragging this out for a second longer than it absolutely had to be.

You stepped into the room and were immediately reminded that Suguru had been the one to make the arrangements. A bottle of wine sat in a bucket of ice on a velvet-cushioned ottoman. Bouquets of roses and their disembodied petals had been carefully spread across every possible surface – painting the room with misshapen splotches of bright red. A colorless atrocity of white silk and lace had been laid across the king-sized bed. You got close enough to recognize it for what it was (bridal lingerie, veil and all) before turning away and collapsing onto the foot of the bed, your vision blurry and your heart racing.

You felt your mouth go dry, your throat tighten, but you forced yourself to speak. You wouldn’t have been able to stand the silence. “Am I—” A pause, a distraught glance towards the monstrosity. “Am I supposed to wear that?”

“I might’ve been a little overzealous,” he admitted, stepping in front of you. Slowly, he lowered himself onto one knee, taking your hands in his. “I’ll be gentle, if that’s what you’re worried about. The only thing I want you to feel is pleasure.” He brought the underside of your wrist to his lips. “I love you.”

You couldn’t be sure what it was. How sincere he sounded, maybe, or how young he looked kneeling in front of you, away from his temple and out of his costume. He kissed the back of your hand, and a ragged sob tore past your lips, all the tears you hadn’t been able to shed during the ceremony suddenly beading in the corners of your eyes. As you tried to keep them at bay with your free hand, Suguru’s smile wavered, and for the first time that you’d seen, fell away completely.

He posed the question softly, carefully. You wished he would’ve been just a little more eager to break you. At least, then, you could’ve hated him for it. “…you really don’t want to do this, do you?”

There was no point trying to lie. You shook your head and watched as Suguru deflated. His eyes had always been dark, but in that moment, you could’ve sworn they’d never seen any light at all.

Before you could brace yourself, his mouth crashed into yours with enough force to bruise. You tasted blood, felt his tongue rake over yours; whatever gentleness he’d promised to show you little more than a distant fantasy. As his mouth moved against yours, his hand slipped under your dress – two fingers dragging over your slit through your panties before his thumb found your clit through the thin material and he pushed a rough, impulsive pattern into the sensitive bud. You shrunk into yourself, your hands finding their way to his chest before you could stop yourself from trying to push him away, but Suguru didn’t seem to care, to notice. Your panties were torn away entirely, and like a man possessed, he fell back to his knees between your open legs and started to devour you whole.

Your thighs were pulled onto his shoulders, his hands curled around your hips as the flat of his tongue laved over your slit, teasing the entrance of your pussy and flicking over your clit. He alternated between tracing vague figure-eights into your cunt and lapping up the slick starting to drip from your poor, confused pussy – your exhausted body eager to accept any affection Suguru had to show you, if you could even call what he was forcing onto your affection. You tried to reach for him, to pull him away from, but you failed to so much as make contact before he let out a near-violent snarl, calloused fingertips burrowing into vulnerable flesh as he pulled you that much closer, hauling your ass off the bed and leaving you on your back, your arms crossed over your face and your ankles crossed over his back. You sobbed openly, now, but your disparate cries were interrupted by cracked whimpers and half-swallowed mewls – little, pathetic sounds you didn’t have the strength to suppress. Suguru didn’t stop. Honestly, you would’ve been surprised if he could hear you at all over the sound of his own heady panting, of his tongue fucking into your now-soaked cunt.

You almost regretted not taking him back to your flat that first night – when he kissed you like you were the most delicate thing in the world. If you’d given in right away, he might’ve had the self-restraint to hold back. Or, to try to, at least.

One of his hands left your waist, falling low enough for the pad of his thumb to press into your clit. Messily, roughly, he toyed with the hyper-sensitive bundle of nerves as his tongue thrust shallowly into your cunt, curling and splitting apart the hot, clenching walls of your pussy. You felt a deep, full-chested moan reverberate up the length of your spine, and that was enough to leave you tumbling over the edge, to leave your thighs clenching around his head as you came undone on his tongue. He ate you out through the aftershocks, but didn’t stop - fucking you open with his tongue until you’d stumbled through another climax, then another, a mix of slick and saliva soon coating his chin and staining the sheets below you. By the time he pulled away, you were crying not from despair, but overstimulation; pangs of pure heat searing your nerves and leaving your cunt aching for reprieve. You were only vaguely aware of the mattress dipping beside you, of his chest pressing into yours as he kissed you for what felt like the hundredth time. As his lips pressed into yours, you decided that, if tonight was the last time you ever had to kiss someone, it wouldn’t be so bad. Not when compared to the alternative.

“I love you,” he mumbled, and then again as he pulled away, “I love you.”

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. Your voice felt like something you were no longer entitled to use; a vague concept that’d been placed at an inconceivable distance by some cruel deity. Through half-lidded eyes, you saw Suguru bare his teeth in frustration. Your dress wasn’t so much removed as it was torn away from you, and you couldn’t help but wither without it. Modesty could only count so much when you could still see your arousal coating his lips, but still, it hurt.

With an arm wrapped around your waist, he pulled you into the center of the bed and haphazardly dragged his shirt over his head. You shouldn’t have been surprised. You’d seen his bare arms plenty of times, watched him lift Nanako and Mimiko clean off the ground without so much as a trace of strain, and yet, something inside of you still curled up and died as your eyes raked over his sculpted chest, the corded muscle that seemed to cover every inch of him. More out of shock than anything, you moved to sit up, to put some distance between yourself and a man who looked like he could’ve torn your head off your shoulders on a whim, but he was quick to stop you, to press a palm into your chest and force you back onto the bed. With his other hand, he dragged his pants down just far enough to free his cock and, instantly, whatever desolation you might’ve felt at the sight of his bare chest was multiplied ten-fold.

You didn’t realize you were shaking your head until you moved to speak, your voice shaking and small. “That’s not going to—”

“It will.” That authority – that tone of absolute control – was back in full force. Still, you couldn’t seem to make yourself believe him. “I won’t stop until it does.”

Your heart fell into your stomach as he dragged his swollen, leaking tip over your pussy – the flushed head catching on your abused clit and drawing an airy whimper past your lips. He was, by far, the biggest man you’d ever seen, let alone slept with. As if that wasn’t enough, he was already harder than you knew someone could be – thick, pearly beads dripping from his tip and down his shaft, his more prominent veins almost pulsing as he aligned with your entrance. Even his balls were fucking huge.

Fit for a breeder, something vicious and awful whispered into the back of your mind. You tried to ignore it, but you couldn’t disagree.

Your eyes darted to his expression and met his, already blearily focused on you. You opened your mouth, but anything you might’ve said was stolen away from you as his hips bucked forward and he thrust into you, bottoming out in the same motion.

You’d been right, when you’d tried to stop him.

He was going to kill you.

Already, he was too much. A fresh wave of tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as his cock threatened to tear you apart. Suguru let out a raspy groan, his head falling forward and he drew back, pulling out of you until only his head remained in your pussy only to snap his hip and bury himself that much deeper, only to stretch you that much further. “See?” One his hands fell to your lower stomach, the heel of his palm pressing into the soft flesh like he could feel the outline of his cock. He might’ve been able to. You were too scared to check. “You’re a perfect fit.”

There was another grunt, another breathy groan as he fell into an unsteady pace – every thrust brutal and back-breaking. His hands found their way to the headboard, curling around its upper edge as he fucked into you. He didn’t so much find the right spot as find a way to hit every spot constantly, his cock filling your pussy to the brim, leaving you desperately trying to clench down around him to no avail. A high-pitched whine – fractured and pathetic – tore past your lips, and Suguru let out an airy chuckle. “Not gonna be able to get enough of this.” His pubic bone scraped against your clit and you threw your head back, your back arching off of the mattress. Your sensitivity was rewarded with another laugh, a hand brought down just to grope idly at your chest. “I can’t let you out of my sight, from now own. I think I’ll lose my mind if I have to go a day without feeling this perfect pussy wrapped around my cock.”

It was hard to think, let alone piece two words together. Still, you managed to spit something out, fighting to speak above the sound of skin against skin, hips against hips. “B-but, you said— the baby—”

“Fuck the baby. This—” He slapped your clit, his touch harsh enough to make you cry out. “—is all mine.”

A hand around your throat, a new brutality to his thrusts. His grip wasn’t tight, he wasn’t choking you, and yet, you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t think about anything other than his cock and the feeling of your cunt being split open around it. “You’re mine.” If you hadn’t known better, you would’ve thought he sounded relieved. “And you always will be.”

Meeting Suguru had been a mistake. Asking for his help had been a mistake. Agreeing to this terrible deal had been a mistake.

But, cumming around his cock as that final possessive sentiment trickled past his lips was the biggest mistake you’d ever made or ever would make, again.

Your cunt clamped down around him – a vice around his cock. With your fists balled around satin sheets and your legs wrapped around his waist, your body convulsed underneath his, your pussy doing everything in its limited power to milk him dry. You heard Suguru curse under his breath, his hips pushing flush against yours as something thick and searing flooded into your cunt. What little managed to leak out around the base of his cock was caught with two fingers and forced back in; no drop wasted.

With a heavy exhale, Suguru dipped lower, his lips grazing over your cheek, then the curve of your neck. You shut your eyes, letting yourself deflate. It was over. No matter how you might’ve felt, no matter how much you might’ve wanted to crawl out of your skin, it was ov—

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he pulled out of you, only to push back in; his rough, punishing pace only made slightly more bearably by the weight of his orgasm.

The next morning, you’d wake up to Suguru’s arm around your waist and a pregnancy test on the bedside table. It’d be too early to tell, but you wouldn’t bother to so much as open the box. Nothing could’ve kept Suguru from trying again, and again, and again in the days to follow.

Come to think of it, you couldn’t be sure if he ever stopped.

~

“How long is this supposed to last?”

Megumi and Tsumiki were walking a few yards ahead of you, stopping to stare into every other shop window before running ahead, and Himari was currently tucked against Satoru’s chest, occupying herself with a thorough (albeit, mostly oral) investigation of the collar of his shirt. You couldn’t cook and Satoru refused to do much of anything before noon, so the only choice left was to chase after promises of crepe trucks and cafes. Your question earned a hum, a glance toward you, but not much more. As little as you liked about Satoru, you were thankful he had such an even temper. Suguru was never so slow to react.

“Forever, preferably,” he answered, with a slight shrug. “Or until I die, at least – sorcerers have a pretty high mortality rate. I’m the best at what I do, but even the strongest ant gets crushed eventually.” He paused, pressed a quick kiss into the top of Himari’s head. “I’ll make sure to leave a big trust fund, though. You’re gonna be living off your daddy for a long, long time.”

You let your eyes fall to the sidewalk. “You don’t have to pretend you care about her. I know you’re only doing this because of him.”

If he’d denied it immediately, you wouldn’t have believed him. If he’d sworn that Suguru had nothing to do with it, if he’d dropped to his knees in front of you, if he’d told you that he loved you, you wouldn’t have believed him. But, in the end, he only pursed his lips, his head lulling to the side as he considered it. “At first, yeah,” he admitted, tracing patterns into Himari’s back. “I heard that he’d gotten with someone and… I got curious. I guess I was a little jealous.” He paused, his tone abrupt going light and sheepish. “I might’ve gone a little overboard, in retrospect – making the brats go to your school and following you around and all. I just wanted to see what kind of person could make Suguru go soft, but then I saw how you were with the little princess—” He lifted Himari above his head, grinning up at her while she spouted happy gibberish. “—and fell for you, head over heels. All I could think about was gathering you both up in my arms and takin’ you home.”

“You make us sound like stray animals.”

“I mean, you kind of are, right?” You jutted your elbow into his side, and he rolled his eyes dramatically. “Okay, okay, you’re runaways. I didn’t know you were so pedantic, (Y/n).”

 He slotted Himari against his hip, his attention momentarily falling away from her as he shot a quick, teasing smile in your direction. “I like you.” His voice was soft, dull – like he was saying something you didn’t already know. Like he was giving something away. “And I want you to stick around.”

“I’m sure Suguru would’ve said the same thing.”

“I’m not like Suguru.” He found your hand, his fingers soon intertwined with yours. “I wouldn’t let you go so easily.”

You opened your mouth, but closed it again just as quickly. Ahead of you, Tsumiki turned on her heel and waved excitedly. She’d picked a café (presumably with minimal input from Megumi); a picturesque little spot with a sun-speckled patio and overgrown garden boxes. Satoru’s hand tightened around yours, tugging you forward, and just this time, you didn’t bother trying to pull away.

~

The man on his knees in front of you was older – his hair receding and dotted with grey. A salaryman, you guessed, judging by his wrinkled suit, the ink stains on his sleeves. You couldn’t see his expression, not with his forehead pressed against the floor of Suguru’s sanctuary, but you could hear the pain in his voice as he pled for Suguru’s help, see the slight tremble in his shoulders. You didn’t have to assume the cause of his distress.

You couldn’t be sure when you started to see the spirits – or, the curses, you mean. It must’ve been around the end of the first trimester; your little glimpses at crooked monsters and mangled beasts solidifying into full, unrelenting exposure. Suguru suggested (after he’d finished celebrating what he would, later on, refer to as the best day of his life) that it might be a symptom of the pregnancy, that carrying a sorcerer’s child may’ve triggered some pocket of laden cursed energy buried inside of you, but you couldn’t help but think of it as some kind of cosmic punishment, even if you couldn’t begin to guess what you were being punished for.

It had to be a punishment, though. If it wasn’t, you wouldn’t be watching a small swarm of winged, imp-like creatures bite and scratch at the cowering salaryman, each swipe of their claws and nip of their pointed teeth enough to leave ragged, bloody stripes in his arms, his back. You felt bile rise into the back of your throat, but forced yourself not to shut your eyes, to keep your expression one of unbothered neutrality. Suguru would help him, just like he helped you.

As if by way of encouragement, you let your nails scrape over his scalp. After you started showing, the only job Suguru deemed you capable of was that of his new headrest. He took care of everything else – petitioning for maternity leave, moving you out of your flat and into the villa he shared with his girls, rewriting every little aspect of your life to better the role you’d inhabit for the next nine months: his pregnant wife. Currently, he was on his side, on leg bent at the knee and his head propped on your thighs, your fingers threaded through his hair. You’d cringed at the idea, at first, but Suguru insisted that it wouldn’t be an issue. The perks of leading your own cult, you guessed. No one could challenge his authority when he was the only authority they could possibly look to.

After a moment longer than you would’ve liked, Suguru cut off the salaryman’s incoherent rambling with a slight hum. Immediately, the salaryman fell silent, and Suguru let his head lull to the side, leaning into your palm. “Manami,” he started, addressing his assistant. She’d been called in shortly after the salaryman made his entrance. “How long has it been since our honored sponsor’s last donation?”

She glanced toward her tablet. “It’ll be five months this week.”

The salaryman scrambled to apologize. “I—I’m sorry, my store went out of business, and I—”

The corner of Suguru’s lips quirked downward. The entirety of the swarm descended onto the salaryman before you could so much as flinch away.

To say they tore him apart would be an understatement. One second, he was there, bowing in front of you, and the next, little more scraps of fabric and disembodied viscera decorated the floor of the sanctuary. Suguru snapped his fingers and, in an instant, the creatures vanished – leaving behind only gore and the thick stench of copper hanging in the stagnant air. Your hand stilled in Suguru’s hair. You might’ve passed out, if you’d been able to process what you’d just watched.

Suguru took notice of your distress quickly. That, or he just wanted to bask in his kill more privately. “If I could be alone with my wife for a moment, Manami.”

Her eyes flickered to you, lingering for a moment before she bowed her head. “Of course, Geto-sama. I’ll fetch someone to clean up this mess.”

Once she was gone, Suguru rolled onto his back, letting his eyes fall shut. “These fucking monkeys,” he sighed, with a shake of his head. “I swear, they’ll be the death of me. They can’t even seem to die without causing more trouble than they’re worth.”

“You can control them?”

“You’re going to have to be more specific, dear.”

“The spirits.” And then again, with more urgency, “You can control them?”

His exasperation was swiftly replaced with self-satisfaction so potent, you could nearly taste it. “Would you expect anything less from me? Only a handful are strong enough to be helpful, but even pests can be put to good use.”

You felt like an idiot for asking. You felt like an idiot for having to ask, but you just couldn’t seem to stop yourself. “My spirit. The one I came to you for.” It felt like your tongue was coated in salt and ask. “Was he one of the stronger spirits?”

A beat lapsed in silence, then another.

Finally, Suguru let out a long, raspy exhale and brought a hand to your stomach. “I hope it’s a girl,” he muttered, almost absent-mindedly. “I hope she looks just like you.”

You took a single, stilted breath.

When you met your daughter a few months later, impossibly tiny and infinitely lovable and so agonizingly helpless, it would almost be a relief to see Suguru’s face staring back at you.

~

“She has your eyes.”

You heard his voice before you saw his face, but you would’ve known Suguru from aura alone. You froze in the doorway of the unlit nursery, searching for him in the darkness, but Suguru didn’t make himself hard to find.

“Not the color, but the shape.” He was standing next to the cradle, a soft smile painted across his lips and your daughter in his arms. She was sleeping, and you were thankful for it. You’d kept Himari away from him as much as you’d been able to in the weeks leading up to your escape, but even their minimal exposure had seemed crushing, at the time. Above all else, you never wanted your daughter to be able to recognize her father’s face. “Oh, but she must have my temperament. I’ve heard she rarely cries, even with nuisances like Satoru around.”

You’d left your phone in the living room. Satoru wasn’t home and he wouldn’t be back until tomorrow morning, but maybe, if you screamed, someone would hear you. Maybe, you’d be able to run while Suguru tore them apart, limb by limb.

In the end, it was all you could do to make yourself speak – your voice thin and prone to catching in your throat. “Get out of my apartment.”

“But this isn’t your apartment, is it?” With a quiet, hushing sound, he lowered Himari back into her cradle and turned to face you. “Honestly, if I’d known you were just going to run into another man’s arms, I would’ve been more careful with you. I wonder if you’ll feel more loyal to your husband with a chain around your neck.”

“You manipulated me. You made me have a ba—”

“I loved you.” He cut you off with all the delicacy of a rusty knife sawing through flesh. “I do love you, even if I’m starting to question how much of it you deserve.”

He stepped forward. You wanted to turn away from him, to run, but your body was uncooperative, too rigid to do anything more than shake as he came to stand in front of you. “Can you say it back to me? Just this once.” He brought a hand to your cheek. “I’ll forgive you for everything, if you do.”

You tried to. Not for him, but for your daughter – made expendable by her failure to keep you bound to Suguru. You tried to, but all that slipped past your parted lips was a wordless cry, torn and anguished and far from what he’d asked for.

“No?” He feigned disappointment, letting out an airy sigh. “I guess that’s to be expected.”

He took a deep breath, then rested his head against the dip of your shoulder. His hand fell to your stomach as he spoke into your skin.

“Maybe, after we have our second, you’ll change your mind.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere oneshot #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen imagines #yandere jujutsu kaisen #jjk imagines #yandere jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #yandere gojo satoru #gojo x reader #yandere geto suguru #geto x reader #suguru x reader #satoru x reader #yanderecore #yancore

[jedi-starbird]

A happier galaxy where the disaster lineage is somewhat less on fire constantly and senior padawan Obi-wan has developed a fixation on Mandalorians:

Sometimes Feemor regretted just how much he had given away when he had spent 5 expensive months bribing a traumatised Obi-wan to call him brother when he was 14. His dignity, for one, his access codes and shadow cloaking techniques, another. So he had a very dignified reaction when he was awoken to the shine of his younger brother's eyes in the dark at the foot of his bed. "I wou-stop screaming it's just me-I would like a Mandalorian. How do I procure one?"

"How the fuck should I know?"

Obi-wan scowled as if Feemor was being difficult, he wasn't, he wasn't quite awake enough for that yet. "You're a shadow, you're supposed to know things."

Ah, if being a shadow granted you the secrets of the universe instead of just a great many planetary governments, Feemor wouldn't spend so much time wondering what dark rituals Dooku had committed to result in Qui-gon Jinn. (He already knew what regular rituals Qui-gon had committed to result in Obi-wan)

"I know that I'm about to punt you out of my room right now."

"...My birthday is coming up, I believe I deserve compensation for all the traumas."

Obi-wan's eyes were very big now. Feemor sighed. He flopped back down into bed. He resisted the urge to pull his blankets back up and roll over. 'Oh sure when it's time to see mind healers everything's fine but now-'

"Shouldn't you be asking Master then?"

"Master would not approve of how I plan to use the Mandalorian."

He squinted at Obi-wan for a long moment. Obi-wan stared back. He did some quick mental maths and tried not to feel old. Eh. Fine. Feemor swung his legs out of bed. "You had me at 'Master wouldn't approve'."

"Do you think I could get one by walking into little Keldabe and asking very nicely?"

As it turns out, yes he could. A few too many in fact, apparently Jedi, their ancestral enemy, in the Mando district attracted attention, who knew? Feemor knew, Feemor would have known if only he had been properly awake when this semblence of a plan was proposed. He stalked through the cantina towards Obi-wan who was leaning slightly forwards against a pillar, ah...speaking, to a Mandalorian with painted orange armour while surrounded by a larger crowd of Mandos. At least they seem mostly amused. He ignored the youngers squawk as he yanked the back of his robes so that he moved away from the Mandalorian and spun him around.

"You cannot solve centuries of animosity by batting your eyelashes."

"I'm not batting my eyelashes " Obi-wan sniffed," I'm shaking my ass, there's decidedly more effort involved."

"I miss when I was an only child." Feemor sighed deeply. He used the force to scruff the neck of Obi-wan's robes and dangle him slightly in the air. He ignored the shouting from beside him and bowed politely to the staring Mandos. "My apologies for the disturbance, this will not happ-" He considered his brother who was now yelling out his personal comm code with a wink. " Please excuse us, this very probably will happen again, we shall workshop it. May the force be with you all."

I don't have a fully planned AU but it is Codywan!!! cause I love those bitches but have some more dialogue I came up with for this AU. I'm imagining them both as like 20-23, Obi's close to knighthood. He's still a padawan for this because I think him causing Qui-gon headaches is funny. Feemor fully thinks this complicated courtship dance Obi's created is funny, he likes studying his little brother like a bug, he just wasn't prepared for him to just waltz into little kelbade and start hitting on people, though he really should have been.

Hand wavy timeline with Jaster alive but the clones are still clones, Jango was kidnapped and held in stasis or something, Jaster claimed them as Mandos. This is really just about Obi's first and biggest diplomatic achivement being friendly Jedi-Mando relations purely cause he was in his thot era. This also somehow saves the galaxy from the sith.

I like to imagine that Cody's brothers recorded that little exchange between Fee and Obi on their helmets and uploaded it online where it went viral on MandoNet before going viral galaxywide because wait holy shit is that a Jedi saying that????. Qui-gon gets called in for a very weird meeting where the council's like ok so the entire holonet has seen your padawan being horny on main but also this is like the biggest jump in our diplomatic relationship with the Mandos in centuries so like can we keep this up somehow? This results in Obi-wan being holonet famous, first through vode recordings but then he starts a space tumblr and twitter account and he's famous now. Then his friends and other jedi start accounts because wait we're allowed to do that? and those become big as well and this is literally the best PR the jedi have had in hundreds of years. the holonet loves them. the sith are fuming.

Obi-wan, scoffing: What were they gonna do? Shoot me? Feemor: Yes. Obi-wan: I don't believe in blasters. Bly: ...like as a concept...? Obi-wan: No, spiritually.

Obi-wan: I'm sure there's a nice Mandalorian we can find for you Feemor: I'm not sure those 2 words belong together Obi-wan: No of course not, we can't find a nice one, then they'd be all alone, we need to find an absolute bastard of one so that you two match :)

Obi-wan: Oh so Master gets to take in pathetic life forms but I don't? This one's already domesticated! Wolffe: Debatable. Feemor: Cody's a person! Not a stray tooka! Obi-wan: Master takes in stray people all the time! That's how he got me!

Qui-gon: How do you explain this behaviour Padawan ? Obi-wan: The force pushed me towards the Mandalorians Master, it was quite insistent on me developing better relations with them given our difficult history. Feemor: Fascinating, please do elaborate, I'd love to hear the theological implications of a force-assigned kink.

#yes i will put jedi on social media into everything #i think early 20s menace obi wan with equally menace cody is so good #cody looks at this ginger twink and is like oh theres definitely something wrong with him but he amuses me so hes allowed to stay #cody: obi wan has 57 mental illnesses and is banned from most public spaces how can i not fuck him? #star wars #obi wan kenobi #feemor #codywan #commander cody #feemor and obi wan #jedi order #disaster lineage #star wars fic

[illyrian-dreamer]

And Then There Were None – Part 2

Azriel/fem!reader

Synopsis: In the lead up to the war, Hybern releases a catastrophic spell that wipes out all humans, sparing just one.

Abandoned in the desolate human lands, you scavenge to survive long enough to find your family.

Reluctantly, you are found by the Shadowsinger as fate intervenes to guide you under his watchful eye.

<<&lt;Part 1

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings: Death, blood, suggestions of miscarriage, suicidal themes

You woke in a bed as soft as the clouds, the covers silken with feathery pillows piled beneath your neck so plush your hardly felt them. 

A level of luxury you had never known could exist – and that’s how you knew you weren't home. 

Vision a blur, the room you woke to was dim, safe from the fire that crackled at the opposite end. Your vision reeled as it took in the space around you - an obnoxiously large bedroom. 

The haze lingered as you raised your hand in front of your face - a quick way to decide between reality or dream. If this were real, someone had done an awfully good job at scrubbing the dirt from your fingernails. 

But then a familiar ache throbbed as you bought your other hand from under the covers, and a stark white bandaged wrapped tightly at your wrist. Real then, and that fae male had indeed broken your wrist. The scars from your journey were faint now, but still there too. 

You felt for your stomach under the covers then, for any signs of your lingering ailment. They had changed you - thick cotton like padding within the fresh undergarment and the softest gown you had ever felt between your fingers.

You pushed the thought of who might have changed you from your mind. Healers - you hoped. 

Your skin beneath the gown was soft and oily, and smelt of salve. The healers had done well to heal you. Good, this was good. It meant you had a chance to return home, continue your search. 

Gods – the search, your family. You had to continue.

You were alone in this room, and it was night - all good signs. Perhaps with enough strength, you might slip be able to escape unnoticed…

With a slight dizziness, you swung your legs from the bed, toes pressing to the warm, rich wood - as if they floor was warmed from within. 

You wouldn’t dare to poke your head out the door - not in a house of creatures with heightened senses. 

The windows - that was your only option to remain unseen. 

Whether it was the delirium of the events days prior or the haze of exhaustion you were yet to shake, you didn't consider escaping into an unknown lands in nothing more than a nightgown was a fools choice, mortifying at the least. But survival called, your family called. 

Padding around the postered bed, you scanned quickly for your belongings . Clothes, waist belt, knives were no where to be found. 

The cupboard was empty, safe from a long black coat made from the softest velvet your had ever felt. Tying the fabric firm at your waist, you didn’t take the time to roll the sleeves that drooped well past your fingertips - clearly made for a much taller, larger form than your own. Black was good, especially at night, helping conceal the silky cream night robe that seemed to scream find me.

If you had the time, you would have marvelled at the  wall of windows - in shapes and sizes you didn't know a glass welder could blow. Arched in a row of three, each of them had smaller panes within - still large enough to fit through, and with latches. 

Perfect. 

You fiddled with the latch, the world outside dark and unmoving with no sign of light until you cast your eyes upwards. Fingers halting on the latch, your breath knocked from you chest as you observed the most brilliant array of stars you had ever seen. 

Were these the same stars as the human lands? How was it that such magnificent beauty was concealed from your own part of the world?

Another stab of loathing for fae found you then – it seemed even the Mother was versed in reserving luxuries only for them.

The latch clicked open, and you pushed gently against the pane, the window unmoving. Frowning, you pushed again, before trying to pull it inside instead. The glass moved on smooth, oiled hinges - and that’s when the howling began. 

As loud as a pack of wolves, yet that insistent noise was instead from wind. 

Fretting at the noise, you glanced behind you in urgency. Any second now they would come, the wind as good as any alarm. So with a strong grip on the window ledge, you pushed your head through, eyes squinting through the unforgiving gales. 

The wind almost knocked you, hair immediately whipping this was and that, eyes stinging with tears as you failed to see clearly.

Scanning as best you could, you saw no stairs of landings to climb to, no balcony from which you could hope to escape. 

And then you looked down.

It was instinct to back away, so fast that the back of your head knocked against the pane, and a quick profanity escaping your lips. 

You had never been so high up before. Never knew anything could be built so tall. 

With a roll of your stomach, you forced your head back out, avoiding looking anywhere below the horizon.

On the far left, hidden mostly by brick, was a distant glow of a city, the lights warm and flickering with glorious life. And between you and it - a river, it’s water the blackest of blacks in the night, besides from the reflection of the city that budded it’s banks. 

To your right - dark, intimidating forms of mountains and peaks. And with a quick flash below, far, far below, there was only night. 

Your gut lurched both from the height and realisation - it was suicide to try and escape. 

It took a moment to force your rigid muscles to push yourself back inside the room, hair strewn over your face and cheeks pink from the bite of the cold. 

“We don't usually advise opening the windows here,” a melodic voice spoke over the wind. 

Hissing in fright, you whipped your head behind you, to the most beautiful women you had ever seen. And beside her - the same blue siphoned male, his eyes aglow with hazel. 

You fished for your voice then, strained in your throat from days of not speaking, the rush from the wind and the awe of what and who stood before you fighting for silence. 

They were am incredibly handsome couple. 

Folded clothes in her hand, the blond simply placed the outfit on a spare reading chair, moving lightly to re-hatch the window behind you. You almost sighed in relief as the piercing howling stopped. 

“The windows are charmed to block out the noise,” she explained, her tone light and friendly despite the step of caution you took to distance yourself. “Well, don't you look good in black,” she perked, brown eyes scanning you, her smile sincere.

You looked down, the fabric of the coat drooping from your frame. 

“I stole this,” you said dumbly, before cursing yourself silently. 

The women laughed, and you could have sworn a slight smile pulled at the males lips too. 

“That’s quite alright, besides, you were awake before I could deliver you some proper clothes,” she gestured to the set she bought in, but you were fixed on those golden locks, the way they bounced when she moved, and that dress…

“I’m Morrigan by the way, but you can call me Mor.” If she caught you staring at her, she did not let on.

You frowned, senses returning, and you scanned the room again. Formalities, names, nicknames –completely unnecessary, unless…

“I must carry on with my search,” you said sternly, eyes darting between her and the blue-siphoned male. 

He knew. He would have told her.

Those large, towering wings pulled in tighter against his frame, and the male opened his mouth to respond. But Morrigon beat him to it. 

“You’re awake much earlier than the healers expected. They advised you may need a few more days rest.”

You tried to hide your panic, eyes scanning her, then the door, then where Azriel stood between it. 

Mor traced your eyes. “We are no threat to you,” she said gently.

You swallowed. “Then I am free to leave?”

Mor schooled her face into something softer, more sympathetic. “You may want to meet with out High Lord and Lady. I know they are eager to meet you.”

“Me?”

She nodded. “They wish to discuss your predicament.”

“Have they found my family?” you all but blurted, heart thundering with anticipation.

She shook her head then, her face falling more grave. “I’m sorry, I haven't any news.”

A gnawing at your stomach then - something was wrong. How long had they kept looking, had they found anyone? 

“How many days was I-?"

“Four,” the male answered, hands still clasped behind his back. There was no smile on his face, but it remained soft. 

“And up and about well ahead of the seven days the healers predicted! Quite the fighter you are Y/N,” Morrigan chirped.

You almost jumped at the use of your name. And then a scowl fixed on your face.

“My apologies!” More gasped quickly, and you missed the glare Azriel threw her way, Mor’s eyes meeting his with guilt. “Please forgive me, I forget that humans aren't accustomed to-"

“Mind reading?” you gritted, more exposed under the ridiculous ensemble of clothes you wore. You wish you could drown in the lengths of extra fabric. 

Mor wore a broken smile. “Of sorts, yes.” She paused then, fretting to fill the silence. “Would you like to change your clothes? They should be to your size.” 

You looked at the set neatly folded at the chair. 

“The healers have washed you, but we can draw you another bath if you’d prefer?”

Your cheeks reddened at the question, the male’s eyes politely finding somewhere else in the room to fix that gaze.

Was this their way of telling you that you smelt?

Humiliated and frustrated, your eyes narrowed on the male. “What is your name?”

Hazel flicked back to you, and he took a moment of silence to observe you before answering. “Azriel.”

You eyed him up and down, taking him in fully. Tall, large, muscled - your attempts to stab him would have been laughable. Delirious indeed. 

As he eyed you back, his gaze fixed your wrist, even while concealed beneath the velvet coat. “I am sorry to have hurt you.”

Civilised - far more civilised than you would have expected fae to be. 

You cleared your throat. “Well, I suppose I’m sorry for my attempts of murder.”

His mouth pulled into a polite smile, the apples of his cheeks glowing in the firelight. 

Mor chimed in then. “They told me you caught Azirel off guard, Y/N. Like I said - quite the fighter. Not just anyone can catch the Shadowsinger by surprise.”

Shadowsinger. As if at their mention, the furling, smoky shadows peaked from Azriel, and you let out a small yelp. It seemed it was your turn to be surprised. 

Without a whisper of a word, they withdrew into the Shadowsinger himself, as if scolded back into place. Azriel gave no hint of amusement as he kept watching you. 

Your eyes danced from him back to Mor, cheeks once again redening. 

“This is… overwhelming,” you admitted. 

Mor gave you a sympathetic smile, before placing a delicate, manicured hand on your shoulder. “A bath, then?”

You nodded, and she led you to the bathroom, candles lighting with the wave of her hand, and water now filling the marbled pool, steam quick to fill the room. 

You forget about Azriel in the other room as Mor closed the door behind her, marvelling at the arches and architecture, a new set of large windows in this room, this time facing the city. You padded there mindlessly, watching the twinkle of the town that beckoned. 

“Velaris,” Mor came to stand beside you. “Or, the City of Starlight. It’s location is well concealed, unknown by the other courts.”

You were reminded of the courts then, the brief lessons they had taught you at school. The divide of seven different courts, each ruled by a High Lord determined by their magic gifted the Mother and bloodline. Allies, enemies – it was complicated twining of politics and power. 

But you had never heard of Velaris. 

“This place is a secret?”

Mor nodded. “The true home of the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court. A paradise they keep concealed, untouched by others.”

“Why?”

Mor chewed her cheek. “It’s safer this way,” she said simply. 

“And you trust me with such information?”

Mor’s brown eyes warmed, but something sadder hid behind them. “It doesn't seem fair to lie to you about your own whereabouts.”

You nodded, eyes finding the city beyond again. “You mentioned the High Lord and Lady want to meet. Rhysand and Feyre?” Your head ached at the strain to remember their names, but the information found you. 

Mor smiled at their names, and you remembered the way the males had too when they first found you. Loyalty coursed through them like some kind of magic. If you wanted to survive, you would be sure to respect their hierarchy. 

“Morrigan,” you swallowed, bracing yourself for an answer. “Please, what do you know of the search?”

Mor stiffened, pausing for a moment. “The High Lord and Lady are on their way home to meet with you. They will tell you all they know.”

You eyed her carefully, your heart straining. “They haven't found my family, have they?”

Mor’s face of sympathy was beautiful, whether schooled or real. “I’m sorry, I really can not tell you.”

You swallowed once before nodding, eyes casting out to the city of Velaris, the name foreign in your mind.

“They are travelling as fast as they can, and should be here within a few hours,” she reassured. How or where from you didn't bother to ask. 

“A bath then,” you nodded.

Mor smiled tightly. “Should you need anything, just ask. This house - the House of Wind - is just as alive as you and I. You should only have to speak what you wish.”

You nodded, hiding the overwhelming thought of a magical living house as the pool of warm scented water beckoned you with furls of steam.

“A fitting name,” you murmured, remembering of the persistent howl that waited just outside those obnoxious windows.

Mor grinned, catching your every word. “Isn’t it just,” she called and she fluttered from the room, pulling the large, carved door closed behind her. 

You took a few moments of silence, again scanning the marble-splayed room you now found yourself in. Dream or reality, you were still yet to be convinced. 

That was, until your dropped your undergarments, the thick wads of cotton stained with specks of bright, fresh blood. A saddened whimper escaped you, and your hands instantly found your belly, phantom cramps pulling from within. 

You thought about calling for Morrigon, to demand an answer or to see a healer again. But deep down you knew, and that instinct to protect yourself, your privacy, was greater. 

A waft of essential oils blew your way, as if the house was beckoning you to bathe. Toeing the water, each of your muscles seems to relax and steam clouded around you. An uncontrollable sigh left you as you moved deeper and deeper, breasts bobbing beneath the water, the muscles in your abdomen glad for the relaxant. 

You had never had a bath like this, never indulged in such a level of luxury. Was this how all fae bathed, or just the ones so closely aligned with royals?

It was a jarring comparison to the tin bath in your family home, the steam quick to escape from the batches of hot water your mother boiled in the kettle when you were young. As you grew older, you would often forgo using the kettle, bearing the bite of the cold for efficiency, only treating the children when you bathed them.

A shock of panic found you as the pool dipped even deeper, and you shot from your toes back to the scooped edges of the pool, clinging to the edge. Obviously built for creatures much taller and larger than you, while you on the other hand had never learnt to swim. Not when your parents were so busy, and the creek behind your home merely ankle deep.

Bathe, change, and then you would have your answers - you reminded yourself. So you scrubbed with determination, dipping your head beneath the water and rubbing the pads of your fingers at your scalp too, washing away any remains of the taxing journey it took to get here. 

You would start your search fresh, start anew, even swallow your hate for fae if it meant the help of the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court. You could drink their wine and pass pleasant smiles if it meant they would aide you, if it meant your family returning home safely. 

———— 

You looked at yourself in the mirror, the black tunic and pants gifted by Mor fitting better than any of your skirts and dresses back home. The fabric was soft yet thick, protecting you from the cold, even while the House of Wind seemed to warm from within. 

There were slippers waiting by your bed, black also, and your skin seemed to glow from the oils from the bath. The face staring back at you was clean, yet tired, the bags under your eyes still a swell of purple. Forcing your shoulders back, you forced a stance of determination. You could do this, you could meet with the most powerful creatures of Prythian, and you would convince them to help you.

With a gentle knock at the door, a voice called. “It’s Mor.”

“Come in,” you answered turning from the mirror, hands finding the pockets on your pants.

Her eyes warmed at the site of you. “Black certainly does suit you,” she repeated, and you wondered about the comment from earlier. Loyalty to black, it seemed, was also a part of their strange culture. Perhaps something to do with the Night Court, and you wondered if the other courts found such ties to certain colours. 

“Thank you for the clothes. I will return them once-"

Mor raised her hand dismissevely. “We’d hear of no such thing. Are you ready?”

You nodded. “Are they?”

“Rhys and Feyre arrived a half hour ago. They await you in their office.” 

Mor seemed to want to take your hand, but rethought it, and instead raised a palm to the door. 

“Follow me,” she hummed before striding for the door, red gown trailing behind her. 

With a deep breath, you followed in silence.

————

“Here she is,” Mor cooed musically as she pushed the doors open to the office, the High Lord and Lady stopping their polite conversation with as they turned to take you in. 

Your knees almost buckled under their gaze.

That power, even as a human you felt it from many steps away, steely blue and violet eyes seemingly pinning you to your spot. A heavy dose of intimidation overcame you and your body faltered, even though their eyes remained soft, their smiles friendly. 

They both stood, Rhysand donned in a neat black suit, Feyre’s dark gown falling from her frame like liquid night. Gorgeous – an absolutely gorgeous sight the both of them were. 

“A pleasure to meet you,” Feyre spoke, her voice and as smooth as Morrigon’s, yet younger. 

“Welcome to our home,” Rhysand added. 

Blinking between the two, your knees almost groaned as you forced a curt bow. “Thank you, High Lord and High L-Lady,” you stammered. “For your hospitality.”

You waited for any sign of compliance from your bow - knowing that fae spoke a language of hierarchy and formality. 

But your were instead met with an informal sideways smile of Feyre. “Please, call us Rhys and Feyre.”

You nodded, although you couldn't see yourself respecting that wish. 

“Are you feeling any better?” Rhysand asked, violet eyes piercing, refusing to leave you. “We were told you had survived almost a fortnight on your own. That is very impressive.”

You weren't sure you’d ever get used to the unblinking ways of the fae as you blushed at his compliment. Had their parent’s never taught them it was rude to stare?

The smallest of smiles tugged at Rhys’s lips.

But you muffled your thoughts, forcing yourself to answer. “Feeling much better, thank you High Lord. You swallowed tightly, fishing for the right words to say. “And to your healers,” you added with rush. “Thanks to them too.”

“I am glad,” Rhysand smiled, moved back into his seat and gesturing for you to do the same.

“I’ve informed Y/N that you would update her on the search for the humans, to explain your own findings.” You could have kissed Mor for steering the conversation, desperate to hear what the High Lord and Lady had to say. 

Feyre immediately began fiddling with the fingers, before Rhysand took them in his own hand. You observed closely at the small interaction, Feyre’s nervous fidget, Rhysand’s immediate response. They seemed to speak na unspoken language.

Not good, not good, not good. Your nails instinctively settled into familiar wounds at your palms.

“Of course,” Rhysand answered, his beautiful features schooling into something more serious as his voice softened. 

Feyre’s eyes found you then, something like regret and sorrow burrowed within. In that moment alone, their difference in upbringing was at contrast. Rhys - ever the schooled socialite, tamed and controlled behaviour from years of perfecting courteous mannerisms. Feyre on the other hand – human, child-like sincerity shone through despite her pointed ears and occasional glimpse of canines. 

“I’m sorry to say that we have not found your family Y/N,” Rhysand said straightly. 

You nodded, assuming that had been the case. That didn't stop the sting in your eyes, or lurch of you gut. You clamped your lips against the wobble that already threatened.

“The truth is, we haven’t found a single human since finding you.”

Instantly the room began to reel, Rhysand and Feyre tipping slightly as your heart skipped to an irregular thunder. 

How could this be? You had been asleep for four days, between their armies and winged beings among them, how could they not find a single other? Your mind screamed a flurry of questions, but your remained stiff, only moving to grip the arms of your chair. 

Rhysand sighed then, glancing once at his mate who’s look of regret only deepened, tears shining in those grey-blue eyes. 

“It is with the deepest regret that we inform you we have traced a powerful magic from the lands of Hybern. A spell, rather.”

You forced your voice past the lump in your throat, past the bile that swarmed in your mouth. “What spell is that?”

Tears spilled from Feyre’s eyes, whatever control she had on her breaking into unmistakable grief. 

No, no don’t say it - your mind screamed. 

“As spell to kill all humans,” she whispered. 

You blinked. And the others watched, waiting.

You blinked a few more times.

"What did you say?"

Rhys's frown was pained. "It seems Hybern was intent on capturing your lands, and used a magic so strong it expelled humans..."

But Rhys's voice grew muffled as your vision narrowed, clouding with darkness.

And then it hit you.

It was as if someone had pulled the floor from underneath you. The room tipped unforgivably, vision blurring and stomach lurching with the lack of food in days.

A broken noise escaped you.

“Y/N, you must breath,” a voice spoke.

Panicked, laboured breaths wheezed from you, and you clenched your eyes shut past the horror of what they had told you.

Meek breaths passed your chest as you tried to speak. “I don’t-how, I don't understand.”

“Hybern has access to the cauldron, and we believe he used it to seize the territory of human lands.”

“It worked then, then spell? They’re gone?” You voice was hoarse, breathy with distraught. Tears had not found you yet, only an overwhelming dread laced with a flicker of denial.

Even while the room danced around you, you caught Rhysand’s tight nod, his face grave and solemn. “We are so sorry.”

Mor’s hand was gentle at your back, as an all consuming anxiety took over and you clutched at your head.

“Please do not touch me,” you rasped, audible wheezes catching in your throat.

Immediately her hand lifted.

“Dead, then,” you swallowed another rise of bile, raising frantic eyes to Feyre.

Broken eyes locked with yours. “I’m so very, very sorry Y/N” she whispered.

“My family, my siblings? Dead?”

She was crying, but you didn't care. You waited for the answer. All she offered was a nod. 

A broken, crazed laugh found you then. It was a cold, lonely thing, and you caught Mor exchange a look with her High Lord. There was nothing they could do except watch as you ran shaking hands over your face. 

You were trembling, eyes dancing frantically. No. No no no. This was unbelievable. You didn't believe them, you refused to.

“Impossible,” you scoffed.

“We wish it were, Y/N truly,” Mor said softly.

“Then pray tell, how it is that I survived?”

“We’re perplexed by you remaining, Y/N. We have no answer for it,” Rhys offered, a tanned hand stroking at Feyre’s back in practiced comfort. 

“Liar,” you snarled, standing so quickly your chair fell back. 

Liars - the lot of them, to tell you of the extinction of humans when you sat there alive and well in their home. 

Rhys’s eyes pinned you, as if expecting your outburst. “I can’t begin to imagine your grief Y/N, but we tell no lies.”

“I don't believe you,” you spat, hands curling into trembling fists. “You wish to keep me here, to trap me!” Anger rose within you. Typical fae tricks and fibs, that's all this was. 

“I would have thought the same thing if I were still human,” Feyre coaxed, wiping at her eyes. “I don't blame you for not trusting us. I truly wish we were lying.”

Something in her sincerity knocked you, cracking at your anger, demanding you to consider their words true. 

But your shook your head stubbornly, crazed by their audacity, distancing yourself from the devastation that loomed underneath.

“I will not stay here and listen to this.”

You heeded for the door, pulling on the handles with trembling hands, only to find that blue siphoned male waiting on the other side. 

Azriel.

His arms were neatly tucked behind his back, legs wide and ready as if waiting for you.

If only you had your knife.

“You will let me leave,” you all but growled, eyes darting from behind him back to his frame, looking for your way out. He bore no weapons this time , but it wasn't as if he needed them.

Azriel’s eyes softened. “I can’t.” His voice was soft and steady. “It’s not safe for you out there.”

Your fists clenched tighter. “I don’t care! I will not sit here prisoner, I need to find the truth for myself.” 

You made to step around him, but those rippled hands gripped you, from the shoulders this time. 

“Let go of me!” You struggled against him, but his grip remained strong.

“Listen to me. Hybern has sent an army and they sweep the human lands as we speak. I saw it for myself – if they find you, they will kill you.”

The integrity in his voice, deep down you knew he was telling the truth, even if you refused to believe it. Because believing it meant you had lost everything, everyone. It meant the cruelest punishment from the gods - not another day with the laughter of your siblings, the caress of your mother or hold from your father. No home, no love, no warmth - just a bobbing existence, with grief as your only friend. 

Perhaps that’s why you started sobbing, still trying to pry Azriel’s hands from you with his own. 

“I don’t care, I don’t care!” you cried, voice breaking as fat tears rolled down your cheeks. “I want my family!”

Azriel cast a worried look back to the others who could only watch with pained expressions. 

Mor sprung into action, fetching a blanket from a nearby room.

“You are liars, territorial murderers, the lot of you! How could you let this happen?” your voice was hoarse once again, your knees buckling as shock took over. 

Azriel moved with you, gently bringing you to the ground as you wept, your legs folding underneath.

The blanket was strewn around you gently, Azriel’s touch surprisingly tender. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice a strangely soothing balm against your turmoil. "I wish things were different. But your safety is paramount."

You wanted to fight against it, to push and claw and burrow in the bubble of denial, but you hadn’t any energy left.

Waking to an empty home, to empty streets, days of travel without another human in sight – perhaps you knew all along that this nightmare was real.

The room continued to spin as reality sunk in. Your family, gone. Your siblings, so young, so innocent. The humans wiped clean from the world. A full scale genocide, and you were the only one to survive it. 

"They were children," you wailed, your words a harrowing cry. "They were only children."

Injustice, isolation and grief was leaden on your chest, so constricting and heavy you thought you might die. 

“I-I can’t breath.” One palm braced on the wooden floor, the other against your heart as you began to pant. Eyes darting between the fae that watched on, you clutched at your chest, panic swarmed with bile. 

And then you made sick. 

Azriel's grip didn't falter, and someone moved to pull the hair from your stinging eyes. 

"Try to focus on your breathing, Y/N," a voice coaxed in your mind, male or female you couldn’t tell. "In and out, slowly."

But the air felt thick, suffocating, as if the weight of the world was pressing down on you. Each breath seemed to be a struggle against an invisible force, and panic tightened its grip around your heart.

That voice in your head again. ”Just keep breathing," it said gently, the voice cutting through the haze of your panic. "Focus on my voice. You're safe here, I promise."

The words were like a lifeline in the storm raging within you, and you clenched your eyes shut, clinging to it.

Rhysand approached cautiously, his expression a mixture of sympathy and sorrow. "Az," he prompted, and the male raised from his knees.

Rhysand crouched down in front of you, his gaze unwavering. "We'll explain everything after you've rested Y/N, I promise," he said, his voice carrying the weight of truth.

And as the room slowly ceased its relentless spinning, you found yourself clinging to that promise, holding onto the hope that amidst the devastation, there was still a path forward, however uncertain it may be.

The world outside was dangerous, filled with uncertainty and threats you couldn't begin to comprehend. And Hybern. He had killed your family. Your siblings, those sweet innocent children who you loved so dearly. Your parents too.

Sobs wracked through you again, your body giving out as you let out a muffled whimper of grief.

Strong arms slid from under you turning you over to cup you by your arms and knees. And then you were being carried, away from that horrible scene, from the mess on the floor where your world came crashing down. 

You clung to whatever you could, the blanket, Azriel’s shirt, you didn't really care – but you clung and cried. Even when you were again met with the softness of a mattress, even when the weight of the duvet being drawn over as it settled against your skin. 

In that tumbleweed of devastation, a rippled hand soothed you, coaxing you to sleep. You gladly let it, letting the horrors of the world slip away, even if only for a moment. 

“Just rest now. You are safe.”

And with a final thought, you sent a prayer to the Mother to not wake up to this nightmare.

A/N: Hey pals, thank you so so much for the love and support of Part 1!! I sincerely hope you liked part 2! <3 <3 Now would you like some fries with that angst? Because it'll only get darker from here. Again, I'll tag everything I can at the top of the fic, but please have a look at the warnings ahead, I would hate to hurt anyone <3 <3 If you'd like to join the tag list for this fic, drop a comment! Thank you so much for reading, mwa!!

#azriel x reader #azriel angst #azriel acotar #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel fic #acotar series #acotar angst #acotarfanfic #acotar fandom #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x female!reader #azriel x human #rhysand x reader #feyre x reader #mor x reader #house of wind #attwn series #sarah j maas #dream big with nic #acotar x reader #inner circle x reader #azriel x grief #azriel x depressed reader

[jeannineee]

Umbra et Ventus

Azriel x Reader

a/n: so I recently wrote a little thing called ‘Devotion,’ and I loved it so much that I wanted to make a mini-fic somewhat based on it.

So, reader is half-fae, from the Continent. She was enslaved during her time there, but managed to escape (we’ll learn how eventually 😉). She’s currently a refugee in Velaris, working alongside Madja as a healer. This fic is a bit of a slowburn, so bear with me.

Also, requests are open for headcanons, and short blurbs/drabbles, but I will be prioritizing this fic!! Love you guys!

PART TWO

warnings: canon-typical themes, allusions to PTSD. Emetophobia warning also at the beginning!!

Sweat dribbled down your face, coated your palms as you hugged the rim of the toilet. Your body shook with the force it took to hurl the contents of your stomach. You stayed there, heaving, for what felt like hours.

Your exhaustion became so rampant that you couldn’t even drag yourself to bed. You laid on the bathroom floor, sighing in relief as the cold tiles embraced your clammy skin.

As sleep beckoned you once again, you prayed that you might be free of nightmares, this time.

~~~~~~~~~

The sound of banging on your door roused you from your short-lived sleep. You pulled yourself off of the floor, hurriedly readying yourself for the day, before answering to a very obviously annoyed Madja.

“You were supposed to be at the infirmary an hour ago,” Madja said by way of greeting, before shoving her way into your tiny apartment, heading straight into your kitchen.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, voice hoarse. “I’ll be on time tomorrow.”

Madja gave you a once-over, before returning her attention to the tea she was already preparing. “I’ll bring you a different tea tonight, to help with the sleep. And the nightmares.”

You blinked. How could she know?

As though she could read your mind, Madja said, “There are dark circles around your eyes, and you’re the most tired female I’ve ever met.” She poured the grey-ish tea into a mug, passing it to you. “How long have you been having the nightmares?”

You sipped the tea, grimacing slightly at the leafy taste. “I can’t recall a time I didn’t have them,” you replied, hating the truth to the statement. “But they’ve been worse since…”

“Since you escaped,” Madja finished your sentence, matter-of-fact.

Madja was one of the first people you came across, when your ship docked in Velaris. She, alongside countless other healers, examined every single refugee that sought haven in the Court of Dreams. You weren’t sure why, but before she’d even cleared you to leave, she offered you a position at the Infirmary. For the last six weeks, you’d spent your days training under her.

You cleared your throat, finally confirming her words. “Yes. They’ve worsened since I escaped.”

Madja nodded. “As I said, the tea I’ll bring you tonight should help. Though you may need to consider other methods.”

“Such as?”

“Talking about your experiences.”

You shook your head, setting the tea aside. “I don’t see how talking about—“

“Y/n, you know as well as I do, healing the mental wounds that a traumatic experience leaves is just as important as healing the physical wounds.”

When you didn’t argue, Madja continued, “You’ve been in Velaris for well over a month, and the only people you’ve spoken to besides me are the other trainees at the Infirmary, and even then, communication is minimal.

“You’re beautiful. You’re young. You need to make friends; create a support system. In fact, I have a friend that holds classes for painting. She’d love to have you. Perhaps you’ll find a friend there.”

“I’m terrible at painting,” you muttered, sipping at your tea.

Madja gave you a look that said it wasn’t up for debate. “You’re attending that class,” she said, walking away long enough to find parchment and a pen. She jotted down what looked to be an address, before passing it to you. “Take today off. The class starts in an hour. She’ll have all the supplies you need.”

~~~~~~~~~

Rain pelted your umbrella as you made your way through the artist’s quarter. People milled about, admiring paintings and pottery and sculptures through glass windows.

As you stood outside of the studio Madja sent you to, you debated going home. As if in response, thunder boomed overhead. Deciding that you didn’t want the Mother to strike you down, you closed your umbrella, holding your breath as you entered.

Oh. This wasn’t so bad.

The studio was small, and cozy. Paint-splattered easels lined the room, in three rows of five. Much to your dismay, the only open easel was at the front of the room.

Directly across from the instructor.

You silently made your way to the front of the room, taking your seat.

“Hello,” the instructor said to you, smiling gently. “I’m Feyre.”

“Y/n,” you replied, returning her smile.

“We were just getting started. We’re working on the basics, today: color theory, textures, value, perception.”

You politely nodded along like you understood, grabbing the same brushes as she did. Within a couple of hours, you had a piss-poor excuse of a mountain range painted. You didn’t dare look at anyone else’s.

As everyone began filing out of the studio, your mind swam with the words ‘I told you so.’ You were almost excited to say those same words to Madja, until Feyre tapped your shoulder.

“Good work today, y/n.”

“Thank you.”

Feyre smiled warmly. “I was told by Madja that you’re new to Velaris?”

Of course Madja told her.

“I am.” Your tone was a bit short, but Feyre didn’t seem at all fazed.

“Well, I would love to show you around, sometime. There’s this really good restaurant down by the Sidra that my friends and I go to often. A few of us are going there this evening, actually, if you want to join?”

No, immediately rang through your mind, but your mouth betrayed you.

“Sure. That sounds nice.”

Feyre grinned, and you couldn’t help but reciprocate it.

~~~~~~~~~

When Feyre had mentioned a “few” friends, you’d been expecting two, maybe three.

You certainly weren’t expecting two abnormally tall Illyrians, a short female who personified the saying “If looks could kill,” a bubbly blonde female who introduced herself as Mor, and Feyre’s mate—the High Lord of the Night Court.

Somehow, in her infinite wisdom, Madja had conveniently forgotten to mention that the woman instructing your painting classes was High Lady.

“So, y/n,” Rhysand drawled, hand interlocked with Feyre’s, “Feyre says you’re a rather skilled painter.”

“Feyre is being generous,” you replied, sipping your wine.

Feyre rolled her eyes. “You might not see it, y/n, but you have a lot of potential.”

“And that, at least, puts you a step above Cassian,” Mor cut in, shooting you a wink.

“A newborn would have better painting skills than Cassian,” the short one—Amren, added.

Cassian, the larger of the two Illyrians, placed a hand over his chest, feigning offense. “Rude,” he said, before turning his attention to you. “You came from the Continent?”

You nodded. “From Vallahan.”

“What did you do there?”

Rhys shot Cassian a subtle warning look, but you still noticed it. You gave Cassian a pained smile. Might as well rip the bandage off.

“I was enslaved.”

All of their eyes were on you, and you silently cursed yourself, praying that you would simply sink into your cushioned chair and never return.

Even the male with the shadows—Azriel—showed a hint of surprise at your reveal. Cassian looked just as embarrassed as you, and the look Rhys was giving him now would’ve sent lesser males running.

Fortunately, Mor cut in. “I’m glad you’re here now. Madja says you’re one of her best students, and we could always use more healers, especially with the influx of refugees Velaris has been receiving.”

You cleared your throat, taking a long sip of your wine. “Madja has been an excellent teacher.”

“Madja also says you have…abilities?” Amren asked, studying you like a predator does its prey.

What didn’t Madja tell them?

“I do. But it’s…dormant. I haven’t been able to access my magic since I was a child,” you explained, suddenly feeling exposed under Amren’s gaze.

“I can smell it on you,” Amren said, her silver eyes raking over you. “There’s power in your blood, girl.”

Your eyes met Amren’s then, part of you recoiling, another part of you curious. Power?

Rhysand cleared his throat. “I’m sorry for my families’ invasiveness, y/n. It seems they have no manners.”

You smiled, though it didn’t quite meet your eyes. “It’s alright. I expected a lot of questions.”

“They did the same to me, if it makes you feel any better,” Feyre said.

It didn’t, but at least the rest of the dinner went by rather smoothly. Rhys paid the bill, offering another apology before leaving alongside Mor, Cassian, and Azriel.

“I hope we didn’t offend you with all of the questions,” Feyre told you as she walked you back to your apartment.

“You didn’t. I’m just not used to it. Honestly, I haven’t spent much time around people since I arrived,” you said, before adding with a nervous laugh, “That’s a bit embarrassing to admit.”

Feyre shook her head. “I’ve been there. Nothing embarrassing about it,” she said, glancing up at the starry sky. “I hope you know that we’re friends now.”

You arched a brow. “After one dinner?”

Feyre laughed. “Absolutely. Someone has to help me deal with my family. And you need someone to teach you how to paint something better than blobs.”

You joined in on her laughter. “I knew you were just being overly-nice about my painting!”

The laughter died down as the two of you stood on your front porch. Feyre smiled. “If you want to, we’re going out to Rita’s, tomorrow night. Just drinks and dancing.”

“I don’t have a dress.”

Feyre’s smile turned into a grin. “Good. We’ll go shopping in the morning.” She pulled you in for a hug before you had time to react. “I’ll be here at ten,” was all Feyre said before winnowing away.

~~~~~~

You settled into bed for the night after finishing the new tea Madja had dropped off. It tasted almost as bad as the one you drank that morning.

You thought of what Amren had said at dinner.

There’s power in your blood.

What did she mean?

And then you thought of the unrealistically attractive males—Azriel and Cassian. Azriel had barely said a word. Odd. Perhaps you’d be able to speak to him tomorrow night.

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar headcanon #acotar fanfiction #Azriel x reader #Azriel angst #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #azriel acotar #Shadowsinger #female reader

[misspearly1]

Ner Cyar'ika Baar'ur

Secret Santa Event by @pedrostories

My giftee: @taro-666

Pairing: Din D'jarin x F!Medic!Reader (use of Y/N).

Summary: Working for the Mandalorian as his personal medic, it has become apart of the daily routine to battle against people who threaten his safety, or yours. You're apart of the chaos that comes with the bounty hunting life, but how does one particular quarry change everything between you and Din D'jarin?

WC: 8k

Warnings: 18+ Content. Minors DNI. Fic is set in season one, between episode one to three. Slight changes in the storyline from the TV show. Cursing. Use of Mando'a (with translations). Friends to Lovers. Mutual Pining. Violence and Injury. Angst with a happy ending. Smut. Mentions of wet dreams. Unprotected PIV. Praise kink. Fluff.

AN: Taro! Omg, I've been so excited to share this story with you and to finally come off anon. Hey friend! 👋 I hope you enjoy the read, my love ❤️.

@supernaturalgirl20 Thank you so much for the beta, beautiful! You're a star 🥰.

There aren’t a lot of things that surprise you these days as a trained medic; you’ve been through a lot and have seen nearly twice as much. Having said that, it’s almost as if you’ve grown used to the mayhem that comes with treating the sick and the wounded because of your line of work.

For instance, it doesn’t surprise you anymore when your boss requires your medical assistance considering he is actually in need of your assistance quite often, and it’s the very reason he hired you in the first place. 

The Mandalorian is your boss, or Mando as he is known to some, and his involvement in the bounty hunting business was never in your interest at first - your a healer, not a fighter - but where there is a fight, there is almost always a need for someone to be patched up afterwards. 

There’s never a dull moment working with the Mandalorian, his daily life is mayhem, more so in the last several weeks since his workload has been busier than usual and seeing that you’ve already adapted to the chaos around treating the sick and wounded, especially on war-torn planets, you quickly adopted his chaotic lifestyle as well.

There wasn’t much difference truthfully, only that you were treating one patient instead of several a day, and rather than coming to you for medical treatment, Mando offered you to move into his ship as an alternative. You didn’t oppose the idea and accepted his offer, not only because the pay is better, but the company is welcome too.

As well as this, you didn’t mind moving into Mando’s ship because he used to visit you regularly for medical attention back on Nevarro. That's where The Bounty Hunter’s Guild is situated, it’s their home base, and although you only stayed in the city for seven months, you didn’t particularly enjoy your time on the volcanic planet. It’s a world of black sand, rocky terrain, and rivers flowing with lava instead of water.  

While it was beautiful to gaze upon at night, it was also deadly as the Reptavion's used the darkness to their advantage, hunting anything it could carry before taking flight. Nevarro provided work opportunities and credits, but it wasn’t a place to call home.

However, the volcanic planet is where you met Mando for the very first time. During the months you were staying in the city, you were working in a small medical clinic, and there were plenty more suitable facilities for the man to visit, but he chose your place of work instead.

At first, you assumed it was for discretion as the clinic's unspoken rule was ‘ask no question, hear no lies’, but sometimes he would come to see you with minor injuries that could be treated by his own hands, thus leading you to believe that he was interested in more than just your help. Besides, you enjoyed the man's company when he would come to visit you. He wasn’t much of a talker back then, but as time passed, he gradually opened up.

Moving into the man's ship brought you closer to each other. You became his partner more than his employee, and you love your job because it simply doesn’t feel like a job. It feels like you're working with a trusted friend, sharing the riches and helping each other out.

Whether or not he was actually in need of your service back on Nevarro doesn’t matter. What matters is that he saw an opportunity with your skills and presented a deal to make your working life better - which it has.

Ever since you moved in with him, your life has become better in so many ways; you now have a place to call home, and you have a friend you can rely on without the niggling doubt of betrayal in the back of your mind. 

Since you were always on the move before, you adopted a cautious nature with everyone regarding every little detail in your life. You never did fully trust people, but you do with Mando. Things are different with him, and one of the many reasons why it's different with him is because you know the man underneath the beskar. 

Many people have heard of Mando. They’ve heard the stories about his reputation in the Bounty Hunters Guild, about how he is the best in the parsec, but his past and identity remain a mystery. Even to you, to some extent, but you’ve heard the stories too, heard ‘warrior’ in the whispers and it’s true. He is a fine warrior, one that fights with grace and loyalty to the cause. His cause; his culture and his religion - the way of Mandalore. 

While many call him Mando, or the Mandalorian in the Guild, you know him as Din D’jarin. You have not yet had the pleasure to see his identity, but hopefully one day you will have that pleasure and the honour. These are just some of the many reasons why you love your job, but to put it simply; it’s because of Din. 

Since there aren’t a lot of things that surprise you anymore in your line of work and partnership with the man, that doesn’t mean there’s nothing that surprises you. Take these last few days for example, it started off with the same regular chaos, but eventually became something you’re not familiar with. 

The loading bay of the Razor Crest is almost packed full of quarries, frozen solid in the carbonite blocks with one more space remaining for the Mythrol. You helped Din as far as your abilities could, and since the tracking fob for the Mythrol led him to a public house on the icy planet, Pagadon, you stayed back on the ship and waited for his return. 

And of course, it came as no shock when Din returned with the Mythrol, thankfully without any injuries, but the blue-skinned man tried to pull a fast one. However, it wasn’t fast enough as the Mandalorian was two steps ahead of the trickery. He always is.

Still, just like the normalities in the bounty hunting life, you made your way back to Nevarro and met with Greef Karga in the cantina to offload the carbonite blocks, receive your payments and gather more tracking fobs leading to more quarries.

The surprise began when the words ‘off the books’ were uttered by Greef himself and from the moment Din took his next job, you had mixed feelings. There was no chain code on the quarry, all you had was their age. Then, Din wouldn’t allow you to accompany him when meeting the client and the very fact he was protective of you in that sense, made you worry about their business. 

In the Guild, it’s common knowledge that you don’t ask questions about the criminals you hunt. You just get the job done and let the proper authorities serve justice, but something was gnawing at your gut. As the day went on and the chaos continued, the doubts slowly began to fade as you settled back into normality. 

The tracking fob led you to a desert planet, Arvala-7, where you met with a kind man named Kuiil working on a moisture farm. It was especially fun watching Din trying to mount the Blurrg and learn to ride them, but you, too, had to learn in order to join his travels to the Nikto Hideout - where the quarry was. 

By the afternoon, you and Din had mastered the art of riding the creatures and you set off to capture the quarry. Just like any other day in the bounty hunting life, there was nothing surprising or out of the ordinary. You worked together like you always do and after leaving you at a safe distance away from the hideout, Din moved forward on his own. 

As battle ensued, you watched from afar and used comms to help the man out. He fought magnificently. More often than not, his skills leave you awestruck. Mesmerized. You prepared yourself and stocked up on the medical supplies before leaving the moisture farm earlier, but remained hopeful that there wasn’t a need for them. 

When the fight was over, the enemy threats were eliminated and Din was unharmed, you made your way to him and entered the hideout together to find the quarry, but when you first laid your eyes on the target, that unsettled feeling returned to your gut. It was an infant baby, a little green baby with big ears and the cutest eyes you’ve ever seen. 

Although you remembered that you don’t ask questions in the Guild about the quarries, you couldn’t help wondering, and worrying, about what the client wants with the child. It couldn’t be anything good if Din didn’t want you present in the meeting with them on Nevarro.

You had many doubts and suspicions, so many that you couldn’t find a single rational explanation as to why a baby had a bounty on its head. Naturally, you asked Din all of the questions you had, but he didn’t have any answers.

Now, as you both make your way back to the Razor Crest with the baby through the mountainous canyons of Arvala-7, you still can’t shake off the nerves around this whole ordeal. Din is many things; a fine warrior in battle, a man of few words, emotionally shielded and well guarded, cold and merciless to those who threaten his safety, or yours, but careless? No, never.

The man isn’t careless. He cares greatly, and deeply, and he, too, knows that something is off about this job. You’ve known Din D’jarin for the last two years and you can sense when the man is nervous. He’s quiet, too quiet, and you don’t like when his mind is on overdrive because if he is worried about this job, then you should be fearful. 

“Alright. What is it?” You finally break the silence to ask, eager to make sense of his sudden edgy state of mind. Halting your walk and turning to face him, you perch both hands to your hips and tilt your head to the side in question, adding emphasis to your desire for answers. 

The baby situated in his floating pod remains close by, right between you and Din as a matter of fact, and he looks up at you both with curiosity. You fight the urge to look at him, to avoid his influence on you as a woman with maternal instincts. The little guy's presence has undoubtedly caused a heavy bout of uncertainty over your heads, a little rift between you and Mando. Not something of the bad kind, but something unfamiliar and foreign. He’s a child, just an innocent baby, so it’s a confusing and an extremely foreign feeling for you both to be transporting him like he’s just another quarry when he isn’t like any other quarry you’ve ever transported before. 

“Din, talk to me,” You shake your head now, frustration evident in your tone, “What is it? What’s got you nervous?” You ask again, although the answer is obvious. It’s because of the baby and all the questions he has for the client, but you want to hear him say it. 

To hear Din himself say that something isn’t right will validate your reasons to be worried, but you were met with silence yet again. The man wasn’t even paying attention to you, he was too focused on the little lizards scurrying across the sand. “Mando.” Stepping forward and calling him the name that everyone else uses, that usually gets his attention, you open your mouth to speak but the words didn’t even make it past your lips as he shoved you back. 

You fell down and watched as he turned swiftly, gun in hand at the ready to shoot, but a blade whacked it out of his grasp, a blade wielded by a Trandoshan. You and Din both lock onto the tracking fob on his hip, the flashing red dot and audible beep familiar, before he then shoves the floating pod away, keeping the baby out of harm's reach. There’s more than one tracking fob, therefore there’s more bounty hunters looking for the child. Bounty Hunters who are careless and don’t ask questions. 

Neither one of you can allow the baby to leave your sight or allow him to fall into the wrong hands, thus causing your legs to act before your mind can think. You quickly rise from the floor and move in to help Din wherever you can. He smites the Trandoshan and they tumble to the floor. Then, he takes the blade from him, before turning around to throw it toward you.

“Stay with the baby.” He orders firmly, and you listen to his instructions. Trusting his fighting skills better than your own, you take a few steps back and give him the space he needs to wield his weapons without hurting you. 

However, another Trandoshan jumps out of cover. “Behind you!” You yell, giving Din a heads up just in time to evade the direction of a blade coming down in his path. The fight continues, and you take a few more steps back to look up, checking the surroundings to ensure there aren’t any more hunters hiding in the shadows. But there was. “Another one, on your left.” You call out. Again just in time as another Trandoshan jumps down from a ledge. 

With one enemy on the floor, but recovering quickly, the odds weren’t in Din’s favour. It wasn’t a fair fight, even though you’re pretty sure he can handle himself, you worry for his safety nonetheless. And although you're not a fighter, you’ll be damned if you don’t try to help even out the odds against him. 

After checking that the baby was safe in his pod, you move toward the closest Trandoshan and raise your weapon. His back was turned, giving you the upper hand to land a blow without deadly consequence. Using the blunt side of the blade, you struck the back of his legs, causing him to stumble forward just at the right time for Din to throw his arms out and punch him in the face, knocking him unconscious as he fell to the floor. 

Now that the odds were evened out, you watched Din’s movements with laser-like focus and only intervened when you saw the right moment. You were sure he could handle himself, and you were right, but the element of surprise was the only advantage the Trandoshans had over him in the beginning. He fought the remaining two easily, eventually leaving all three unconscious and regretful for ever trying to take on a skilled Mandalorian. 

He turns to you, nodding appreciatively. “Good moves there, mesh’la - thank you.” 

“Don’t mention it,” You shake your head, “You did all the heavy lifting. I was just lending a hand.” You mumble with a sheepish grin on your lips. 

“But I know how you don’t like to fight,” He argues gently with a slight chuckle in his modulated voice. “You fought with me. Accept my gratitude, sweet girl.” 

“Ok, ok - you’re welcome, Din.” Your smile deepens with flattery as he stands before you with what you can only describe as pride. It was the way he looked at you; his helmet slightly tilted to the side, displaying the reflection of your own face, and his hands resting on his hips with a puffed out chest. 

Since you can’t see the man's facial expression, all you’re left with his body language and tone of voice to understand how he feels. And right now, you not only feel a sense of pride from him, but a flicker of attraction too. It’s in the air. The chemistry, the spark, it’s surrounding you both, and it’s something you feel quite often, but never have the courage to act on. 

You’re almost certain that the friendship between you and Din means something more, or at least, it’s heading towards something more. But the intimate moments you share with each other, brief moments like this, make you wonder why he doesn’t make a move.

You don’t even have to see the man's face to know that he’s eyeing you up and down. Upon feeling him lean in, something you’ve felt him do many times before, you muster up the courage to lean in as well.

However, the confidence escapes him at the last second and he pulls back, clearing his throat awkwardly. “We should leave now, mesh’la,” He says, breaking the silence and just like that, the moment is over. “ We need to get back on track and complete the job.”

What? You ask yourself as your mouth falls open and your eyes widen, exhibiting your shock and disbelief. After everything that has happened today, especially after a brawl against three Trandoshans, you're shocked that he is still going to hand the baby over to the client. Din picked up on your reaction instantly and straightened his back, as if preparing himself for a dispute. 

“Excuse me?” You scoff, your cheeks burning up again for an entirely different reason now. It wasn’t flattery, or attraction, it was anger. “Din, you can’t be serious. We can’t hand the baby over to the client. Especially now that we know other hunters are after him too-” You walk over to one of the Trandoshans laying on the ground and retrieve their tracking fob before presenting it to him, “-The client gave you the job, but handed out more fobs? It doesn't feel right and you know it.” 

“Cyar’ika, please don’t do this.” He sighs while running his gloved hand over the scruff of his neck, the pleadings in his voice for you to not argue about this falling on deaf ears. You are most certainly going to argue about this with him. You cross your arms and shake your head, like you had already settled the argument without even uttering another word. But, the dispute was nowhere near settled. “Need I remind you of the code in the Guild?” He asks with a bite to his tone of voice, “If you don’t like this job, I’ll finish this one on my own.” 

“On your own?” You laugh humourlessly while waving the tracking fob. “Good luck with that when the whole Guild could have these! What happens if you get hurt? What then?” Biting back with your own set of questions, you watch as the man huffs a short breath and turns away from you, evidently maddened with your bickering.  “Don’t turn away. Answer me -” You give him a second to answer, but grow impatient as you're met with a lengthy silence once again. “- What happens if you get hurt, Mando? You can’t do this alone.” 

Din turns to you now and stands close, his voice raised to a level that hurts. “I was doing just fine on my own two years ago, Y/N.” Turning away again, as if he couldn’t stand another second looking at you or spend any more time arguing, it didn’t matter anyways as you had ultimately lost the dispute. You give him another second, another chance to make things right and take back what he said, but he doesn’t turn around or mutter a single word. 

“Okay then,” You mumble, lowering your head, “Am I just the medic? Is that all I am to you?” You ask, and still, the man doesn’t turn to face you or answer your question. The silence spoke for him and that was all you needed to know before turning around to walk away. You gave him plenty of chances to fix his mistake, but only until your back was turned did he try. 

“Cyar'ika.” He calls out for you, finally coming to his senses, but it wasn’t quick enough as you didn’t respond to him. You made your way towards the baby and the sound of your muffled cries made his head hang low with shame. No matter how quiet you tried to be, your cries were audible to his ears, enhanced by the mechanics in his helmet. 

Although you were quite visibly sad, he watched you put on a fake smile and talk to the baby like nothing was wrong. The warmness of your soul shone through the misery, causing the little guy to beam and babble baby nonsense. It was a sight so beautiful to witness, so beautiful that it was distracting. 

Din can’t allow himself to get too wrapped up in the emotions that the child brings. It’s conflicting, confusing and…  foreign. He’s never felt this way before. Never felt this way before with any woman around a child, but it’s different with you and it clouds his mind, throws him off balance and disrupts his focus so much that he doesn’t pay attention to what’s most important right now. Like the danger lingering in the immediate surroundings. 

“Y/N!” The man calls to you again, his voice was laden with urgency. “Behind you! Y/N - behind you.” Sprinting toward your position while swinging the strap of his amban rifle around his chest, Din takes aim at another Trandoshan and fires, obliterating the reptilian humanoid to a thousand dust particles. 

You fall down, your knees hitting the sandy terrain below as your pained cries penetrate the sound of his beating heart deafening his ears. You took a hit from the Trandoshan, his blade had cut through your clothes and marked your skin before he was blasted into organic matter. 

“Mesh’la.” He choked. Rushing over and kneeling on the ground behind you, he reaches out to hold your arms. The injury you sustained was across your back, diagonally, at least three inches long and almost half an inch deep. A clean cut, but angry red and weeping with blood. “Easy now, sweet girl. You’re bleeding, just take it easy.” He reassures you with a slight tremble in his tone, his worry for your well-being perceivable. 

“The disinfectant,” You hissed in reply whilst shaking your head, “Get the disinfectant. It’s in my satchel, Mando.” Gently removing your satchel over your shoulder, he places the bag onto the floor and opens it up to search through your medical supplies. Supplies that are normally used for him. There’s irony in the fact you became a medic to treat others, not yourself, and the man despises that his involvement in the bounty hunting business has caused you harm. 

And although he is helping to the best of his knowledge, you’re directing him on what to do. “Open the cap and pour a generous amount over the wound.” You explain, then grab his hand on your hip to hold onto for comfort. He begins to ask if you’re sure, but couldn’t even finish his sentence as your sobbing plea cut him off. “Yes-yes! Just get it over with. Please, Din.” 

Listening to your instructions, he held his breath and prepared himself as he began dousing your back with disinfectant. You bawled with agony, your back arching away from him naturally with the instinct to stop the pain, but to his regret, he pulled you towards him and continued to pour. He clenches his jaw as you cry, his fingers almost turning blue from the force of your grip on his hand. “I’m sorry.” He apologizes, to which you don’t accept and stutter in reply. “This isn’t y-your fault.” 

Releasing your hand to place his thumb and forefinger on your chin, he tilts your head to look at him before leaning in. “I’m sorry, Y/N - for this, for yelling at you, for saying that I was doing just fine two years ago and… and you’re not just a medic.”  He rests his helmet against your head and whispers, though his voice breaks with remorse. “You’re so much more than that, mesh’la. You mean so much to me.” 

“Din, I-” You open your mouth to object, but he cuts you off by holding his thumb over your lips while shushing you. “Don’t speak and conserve your energy, we’ll talk about it later. Just let me take care of you first.” He says. 

“No, Din…” You sigh, eyes blinking slowly while slurring your words. “I was going… going to say that I… I can’t keep my eyes… I don't feel good…”  Your body becomes limp as you fall into his arms. Your vision darkens quickly, and the last thing you saw before everything went black was the baby's eyes looking at you as he peaks over the pod.

The next time you awoke, it was a brief moment of consciousness. The familiar sound of Din’s amban rifle could be heard as he fired off multiple rounds and your eyes glimmered open to see his legs, the bandolier of cartridges wrapped around his calf. You saw his gloved hand reaching for ammunition to load into his weapon and worried as to why he needed them. 

“It’s ok. Everything is ok,” he says upon noticing you were awake and were fighting to keep your eyes open. “We’re safe here. Go back to sleep, cyar’ika.” 

Eyes closing once again, you couldn’t keep them open no matter how hard you tried to, and his voice soon faded as you slipped into a deep slumber. The silence took over and, oddly, it felt comforting. Although it only felt like minutes had passed, you knew it must have been longer as your surroundings were different. 

There was no longer a warm breeze, but the cold presence of steel pressing into your side, and beneath you, it felt spongy and soft, thus indicating you were laying on a bed. The unmistakable sound of Kuiil’s voice could be heard in the distance as he makes the baby laugh and you open your eyes to confirm your assumptions on your whereabouts, but are met with locks of brown hair instead. 

It’s Din. He’s the cold presence of steel pressing into your side as he sat on the edge of the bed and it’s his hair that you were currently staring at with wide eyes. His back was turned, but you could still see the back of his head and instantly shut your eyes, fearing that if you spent one more second looking, you wouldn’t be able to turn away. 

“Mando,” You whisper immediately, panicking, then feel him moving around. “Mando, why don’t you have your helmet on? Stars! I could have seen your face.”

You begin to shift your position to turn away from him, but are reminded of the wound on your back. The pain struck you suddenly and harshly, causing Din’s hands to dart out to cover your eyes just in time as you opened them with instinct. He was gentle but quick. “It’s ok, mesh’la. You can’t see, it’s ok.” He reassures you through the strained whimpers slipping past your lips. 

“Where is your helmet?” You ask, getting your teeth. You close your eyes again once the surge of pain passes over and the soothing properties of bacta gel takes over. You can feel the substance on your back, feel the stuff working to heal your injury. “My eyes are closed now. It’s safe but… Shit, Din. I saw your hair.” You say apologetically. 

“It’s fine, sweet girl.” He chuckles softly, the sound making your mouth fall open with shock as you retort. “It’s not funny. I’m not allowed to see you - or your hair! What… W-what happens now?” You ask, to which he laughs again and startles you unintentionally when reaching out to cup your cheek. You weren’t expecting to feel his gloved fingers on your skin, but you quickly leaned into his touch as his gesture brought consolation. 

“Look at me,” He requests, “It's safe to look, I promise.” 

Rolling your eyes behind closed lids, you make a surprised sound when he caresses your cheek with his thumb. Again, you weren’t expecting the comforting gesture, but deeply appreciated it. And whether or not it was the bacta gel or Din easing the discomfort in your back, you chose to believe it was the latter.

A short moment passes before you finally open your eyes and find relief in the T shape of his helmet. Although you would love nothing more than to see his identity, the face of his helmet is what you know, it’s home. Your face softens as you relax into the palm of his hand, but the importance and worry around your question still lingers, thus causing you to ask again. “What happens now? I thought I wasn’t allowed to see you without the helmet, doesn’t that also mean I can’t see your hair?” 

“You didn’t see my face, nor did you remove my helmet, mesh’la,” He shakes his head, his voice soft like honey, “It’s okay and besides-” He turns his head, displaying the brown locks of his hair at the base of his neck, “-You can see my hair with the helmet on.” 

“Oh,” You whisper with intrigue, “Surprised I didn’t notice sooner, but your hair is…” Lifting your hand with a desire to touch his hair, you back out at the last second and retract your arm, but Din felt your movements and quickly assured. “Go ahead. I trust you.” 

You reach out again and caress the base of his neck, your fingertips massaging his scalp which draws out the heaviest sounding exhale you’ve ever heard from him; a sigh of relief, filled with endearment and relaxation. It was a gratifying feeling, seeing and hearing the man lean into your touch without fear of betrayal in this moment of vulnerability. Din is vulnerable at this moment, his guard is down and just the mere thought of removing his helmet sickens you. It never crosses your mind. 

“Your hair is beautiful, Din.” You murmur sweetly, a smile on your lips displaying your satisfaction and joy from something so simple. The action of touching his hair which you’d love to do again, to feel him melt in your arms like soft putty and feel a sense of home from your touch, like you feel a sense of home when looking into the T-shape of his visor. 

You gently squeeze the base of his neck, a way of reassuring him, before pulling your hand back, however, it was apparent that he wanted more as he sharply held your wrist and directed your hand back to his hair. “Please?” He asks in a whispered breath, hopeful and optimistic, desperate. “Keep playing with my hair, ner cyar’ika.” 

You laugh, a mixture of surprise and confusion obvious in your tone. The difference in his pet name for you was confusing, and his request for you to continue playing with his hair was surprising. Though, you granted his request gladly and began playing with his hair. “What does cyar’ika mean anyway?” You ask, tilting your head with interest while wondering what faces he was making under the helmet from your massaging movements. “Is there a difference when you say ner cyar’ika?”

“Yes.” He groans in reply, the sound drawing out another laugh from your lips as your smile deepens. You open your mouth to ask another question, until he turns his head to face you and leans across your body. The pause in his manoeuvre speaks of hesitancy, unsure on whether or not you were comfortable with what was about to do. 

The question you had vanishes from your mind as you nod to the man, nodding with confirmation for him to lay down and rest his head in your arms. The bed in which you lay on didn’t feel small until Mando lay on it with you. Not that you minded anyway, but it really detailed the size and stature of the man, especially the broad expanse of his chest and back. 

He raised both hands to his helmet, and before he could even ask, you closed your eyes with baited breath as he removed it to optimize the comfiest position. The position he chose however, was burying his face between your neck and shoulder. You didn't release the breath you were holding, it was snatched from your lungs.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you thought this day would come, but doubt is what kept it at the back of your mind. You never entertained the idea of laying in bed with Mando too much as it felt like a pipe dream to have the man in your arms like this, and now that you do, it feels better than you ever could have imagined.

The pain in your back is practically non-existent now, almost as if you never even sustained an injury, and that’s because of his presence, his proximity and his comfort. It wasn’t a struggle to keep your eyes closed as you basked in the sensation of him carefully laying his weight over you like this.

Something else you’ve also thought about in the past, but tried not to think about too much, is Din laying over you for an entirely different reason. And perhaps it’s because of the level of intimacy in this position that brings those thoughts back to the surface, or maybe it was the electrifying feeling of his lips pressed against your skin. 

The man wasn’t exactly kissing you per se, but the bare contact of his lips placed against your neck like this felt like a kiss. Besides, the vest shirt that you wore left a lot of skin on your chest on display, thus providing Din, and yourself, to relish in skin-to-skin contact.

You could feel his beard, it was a light amount of hair, grazing against you with every little movement of his head. Soon, though, all of those little movements from Din became obvious that he was uncomfortable, as if he kept moving slightly to adjust his comfort.

“Want me to stop?” You ask, wondering if he has had enough of you playing with his hair, but to your delight, he shook his head as he inhaled deeply. He smiles against your skin, thus piquing your interest. “What? What is it?” You laugh bashfully. 

“You smell good, ner cyar’ika.” He replies, nestling his nose into your neck to inhale the natural scent of you. The smile on your face is yet to fade, his actions are what keeps your lips turned upwards, that was until you felt something wet dart onto your skin. It was brief, too brief, but you felt it nonetheless.

It was Din’s tongue, and your smile disappears as you bite your lip, leaving a hankering desire to feel it again. Your skin heats up beneath him as you entertain those thoughts about him lying over you like this for a different reason. You think about how you’ve yearned for his gloved fingers to touch other areas of your body, and as well as wondering about his identity, you’ve also wondered what he looks like nude. A mind is an imaginative place, and you’ve imagined him naked more than once. You sigh softly with the ache between your legs, wishing Din to be the one who eases it. 

“Mesh’la,” He mumbles, grabbing your attention, and when you hum in reply to him, he asks: “Is everything ok? Your heart is racing -” Your eyes spring open with worry, feeling like he could see your dirty thoughts, thus causing your heart to pound harder,  “- Hey, hey, relax. I can move, am I making you uncomfortable?” He asks, blaming himself for your panic. Although he is to blame, it’s not for the reason he thinks. 

“No, it’s just…” You falter with finding the right words, but the patience to wait for him any longer escapes you. “It’s just that I felt your tongue on my neck and if… Stars, this is going to be embarrassing if I’m wrong… and if you did it purposely, then I want to feel it again, but…” You gulp, gathering your courage to admit your feelings, “...But if it was just a mistake, then I think that we should maybe stop what we’re doing because I’m attracted to you Din.” 

“You are?” He asks, to which you reply firmly. “Yes. Yes, I am.” 

“So…” He smiles, “You like this?” He asks before placing an open mouthed kiss to your neck, his tongue darting out onto your skin again, thus eliciting you to sigh breathily. “Y-yes. Yes, I like that.” Your eyes close naturally as he plants another kiss on your skin, still with a smile on his lips, as he begins to pant. “I’m attracted to you too. Have been for a long time, ner cyar’ika.” 

“Oh, Din.” You moan. With arousal and relief, his admission makes you moan, the sound acting as a catalyst as he moves down your body, his head disappearing under the covers eagerly to hear you moan again. “Are you able to lay on your back?” You hear him ask, though his voice was muffled, you heard him clearly and nod frantically with excitement.

Shifting your position to accommodate him, you couldn’t feel the pain in your back anymore and slipped your hands beneath the covers, your fingers finding his hair with ease. “It’s ok, I’m comfortable lying like this.” You say while focusing on his every move with anticipation. You could feel his breath fanning across your lower stomach, his fingers hooked inside the waistband of your pants as he leans in to place another kiss on your skin. 

You lift your hips up with a silent request, one that he understood without a need for words, and begins pulling your pants down, along with your underwear. He leans in and presses his lips to your inner thigh, nipping a path toward your sex. You unintentionally begin gripping his hair by the handfuls, evidently desperate to feel his tongue delve into your slick folds. The man doesn’t waste time and gives in to his own desperation. 

“Din!” You whine upon feeling the tip of his tongue meet your clit. He teases you at first, moving his tongue in a circular motion with a feather-light touch, the action making your hips lift off the bed to search for more. You feel him smiling against your inner thigh, clearly satisfied with your reactions, before he closes his lips around your sensitive bud and sucks gently.

You let go of his hair to hold the back of your palm over your mouth, quieting your mewls of pleasure to a respectable level. Considering all the noises Din himself is making was driving you feral, it was a struggle to try and keep quiet. He sounded hungry, like a man starved for a taste of your sweetness right from the source, as if he had dreamed of this moment and was making the most of it now that it’s a reality.

Your hands abandoned his hair to grip handfuls of the bed sheets instead, your back arching as you tilt your head to the side and bury your face into the pillow. Your orgasm crept up on you, started off with a happy cramp in your stomach but quickly became bliss as he eased a finger inside your entrance, soothing the ache in your velvety walls. Din grunted heavily, needily, as he drank your desire.

He continued to flick his tongue against your clit while angling his finger into a come hither motion, caressing that sweet spot deep inside. The stars behind your eyes and the goosebumps rippling across your body never felt so good before, especially from the simple act of receiving oral. It’s been a while, a long while, since you’ve last felt the pleasurable touch of your own hands, let alone a man's pair of hands.

You needed this, needed to release all your pent up sexual energy, though it only made you insatiable for more. “Din,” You call to him, calling on his help to your frustrations, “Din, I need you.” 

Suddenly, his hand emerges from the quilt, “Here,” he says, handing you a blindfold. “Put this on for me, sweet girl.” He asks, to which you oblige and pull the item over your eyes hastily. “Ready - now get up here, I need to feel you.” 

Moving up your body without having to tell him twice, he travels slowly and plants kisses on your skin along the way, his smile never fading as he takes in the sight of you beneath him. “Gar’re bid mesh’la… (you’re so beautiful).” He growls wantonly, “...Bid, bid mesh’la (so, so beautiful).”

“I’m not sure what that means,” You giggle, the smile on your lips as wide as ever, “But I like the way you say it.” You reach out carefully in search of his face, to which he helps by directing your hands, and once you feel him, you gasp. “Stars! You’re so beautiful,” you whisper in awe as you trace the outline of his facial features, “Your lips… your cheekbones… nose… jawline… everything about you is beautiful, Din.” 

“Thank you, sweet girl.” He breathes, eyes closing to relish in the soft touch of your palms cupping his cheeks. “I’ll teach you Mando’a and soon you will understand everything I say, but I said you were beautiful too. So beautiful.” He explains, causing your cheeks to burn once again with flattery as you pull him closer. His lips press against yours with a bruising kiss, and you couldn’t help but moan because of the raw passion and loving desire to finally feel what you’ve yearned for. 

Although there was a hint of desperation in his bid to remove your clothes, Din was gentle with his movements, gentle and respectful. You helped remove his clothes too, and with each inch of skin revealed, you marvelled at the bare touch of him pressing against you. You’ve seen areas of the man's skin before when taking care of his injuries, but never fully seen him naked. 

Using your sense of touch to see, you feel his body and drag your fingers along his chest, feeling the brute strength that he holds. The strength of a warrior. Between your legs, you feel his member pressing against your cunt and it was an impressive size. Aching to be buried in your warm. His breath bellowing across your face, hot and heavy, laden with the same sound of relief from earlier when you played with his hair as you admire his body now. 

“Cyar’ika.” He groans. Placing his hands beside your head, you feel his body shudder with need, his hips rolling forward ever so slightly to ease the throb that burdens his cock. You slip your hands around the base of his neck, pulling him in to close the gap and kissing his lips whilst parting your legs. As he lines himself up at your entrance, your hands fall to his biceps, holding him tightly as you prepare from the breach. 

“Nngh,” you break off to moan, deeply and satisfyingly, “Fuck, Din! Keep going.” You lift your head off the pillow to kiss him again, letting him swallow all the little pretty noises you were making as he carefully buried himself to the hilt. Your walls opened up with ease, stretching to accommodate his size. “It’s ok,” You say, pleading for him to move. “I’m ok.” 

“Are you sure, mesh’la?” He asks, to which you nod in reply. “Waited so long for this,” pulling his hips back slowly, he grabs onto your thigh for leverage before burying himself into your cunt again. “Dank Farrik!” He grunts across your face, “So warm and tight. Better than I imagined, sweet girl.” 

The sound of his filthy words made you mewl, having never heard the man speak this way before, you were surprised, yet growing more aroused and confident to be honest with him. “I used to think… Shit!” You stutter as he grinds into you, drawing out a moan from your lips, “...I used to think about this. In the night, while you were sleeping in your bunk, I’d think about you making love to me.” You admit. 

“Oh fuck.” Din gasps. Picking up his pace while resting his forehead against yours, his moans broken and breathless, his cock reaches a new depth inside your cunt, hitting that sweet spot inside over and over again. “I’m so relieved to hear you say that,” he says, “I took myself in hand many nights thinking about you."  

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You quickly warn upon feeling the peak of your climax racing toward you. “I’m close. Stars! I’m so close. Keep talking to me.” You cry, feeling yourself on the verge of tearing up from the intensity of your pleasure, but the sound of his voice keeps you tethered to the moment, preventing you from floating up to cloud nine. 

“I would dream about you often,” He groans while holding the base of your neck, his thumbs dragging across your skin reassuringly, “Wet dreams, mesh’la. I felt so ashamed, but… Fuck, they felt so good. Dreaming about you in my sleep felt so good.” 

“More… Tell me more.” You hiss. Wrapping your legs around his back and locking your ankles together, you feel his hips falter as he moans through gritted teeth. “Your pussy, nngh! I’d dream about your pussy wrapped around me, taking my load, mesh’la. Again and again until you couldn’t hold any more and it dripped out of you. Fuck! I’m gonna… Shit, Y/N, I’m coming-” He cuts himself off with a needy whine, throwing his head back with bliss as he feels you clenching around him. 

“I-Inside,” You begged him, “Please, Din. Come inside of me.” The man couldn’t stop himself even if he tried to. You felt him reach climax, the warmth of his release spreading inside of you, coating your velvety walls as they pulsed around him, as if milking him of everything he could give. “Mando. Fuuck, Mando!” You mewled directly into his ear, your eyes screwed shut behind the blindfold as his orgasm pushed you over the edge. 

White static casted over your eyes as your ears ring loudly, your heart thrums in your chest as nothing but pleasure courses through your veins. You unintentionally dig your nails into his back, clawing at his skin as he reverts to a slow grind into your cunt, the movements pleasuring your clit and prolonging the ecstasy of your high. “That’s it, sweet girl. There you go.” He praises you through it as he comes down from his orgasm, the sound of his voice overstimulating. 

Resting your head back against the pillow as you come down, breathing heavily, he plants loving kisses along your jawline and neck. “So pretty like this.” He whispers sweetly, his voice heavy with satisfaction as your hands find his face again. “Are you okay?” He asks. 

“How…” Your voice croaks, “How do you say happy in Mando’a?” 

“Briikase,” He chuckles, to which you reply with a smile. “Well, I’m briikase right now. Really briikase.” 

“Me too, cyar’ika-” He pauses to brush the hair away from your face, correcting himself. “Ner cyar’ika baar’ur.” You open your mouth to ask another question, to ask what difference in his pet names mean, but he leans in to catch your lips in a fervent kiss instead. 

Din pulls back, looking to where your eyes would be behind the blindfold while caressing your cheek. “Ner cyar’ika baar’ur... my darling medic. Ni’m ori briikase as pirusti bal ni kar'taylir darasuum gar, mesh’la... I’m very happy as well and I love you, beautiful.” 

You make a surprised sound when hearing some familiar words in his language and learning what they mean, that he has said them before in the past. “I love you too, Din.” You say earnestly, the tears staining the fabric of his blindfold, which you now just realized that he’s kept in his pocket in hopes to use with you one day, like today. You not only became Din D’jarin’s medic, but you became his - his darling medic. 

There aren’t a lot of things that surprise you these days as a trained medic, but that doesn’t mean nothing surprises you anymore. These last few days have been adventurous and emotional, foreign and unfamiliar, life-threatening and dangerous. It’s been life-changing for you and the Mandalorian, and it’s all because of a baby. The little guys presence not only sparked your maternal instincts, but the protective fatherly instincts within Din too. 

And, although neither of you know it now, the baby is only just the beginning of your treacherous journey across the stars in search of reuniting him with his people.

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[yourpsicodelicbitch]

little thoughts on asteroid aspects ☄️

hii next time I’ll post the 3rd part of “juno signs and their specific love languages”!!

pinterest

take what resonates, leave what don’t 🎀 you don’t have to necessarily identify with it.

Circe (34) - Saturn aspects: you are sarcastic, like dark humor or people can think the way you entertain others could be quiet harsh or how I like to call it, “reality”. the ones that get it, the ones that don’t, don’t 😝

Bella (695) conjunction Pluto: your intensity and mysterious aura or acting attracts people. your controller and direct attitude drawns people bc of the security you hold in your words and how you carry yourself.

Bella (695) aspects also could tell what catches most people’s attention of you. for example, I have aspects with sun and pluto, others are intrigued by the bubbly and strong persona, even aggressive sometimes?

Peitho (118) square Chiron: you could have been manipulated, influenced by your family/people around you, you considered your loved ones or you trusted them. You also could have manipulated or started to being persuasive with them and others. in this lifetime you’re learning and understanding you have to be cautious of people’s persuasion bc in the past it affected you strongly. Most important, you could be a healer, later, when you have learned about your experience, you could use it as a way of helping others. You have a way with words in order to make them believe something, in themselves.

*persuasion and manipulation are not the same, but I do believe there’s a thin line you can pass in order to do the other. I also believe, specifically in this aspect, that in some point the persuasion of peitho could have passed to manipulation.

If you have a lot of Narcissus (37117) aspects on your natal chart, sure you are full of yourself BUT depends on other prominent planets/asteroids. For example: I have a lot of Narcissus aspects but I’m conscious about my possibilities and reality because of the impact Saturn -chart ruler- has on me. it’s like saying that I have a why and that certainly would not be called “full of yourself” but knowing my worth? perhaps they could be cocky at times and etc.

What aspect I saw influence in a “full of yourself” attitude? Narcissus (37117) aspecting Chiron. They’re insecure about themselves, if someone affirms they’re attractive they’ll think about it, again and again and the only conclusion they’ll have would be “they’re drooling for me”. One of the placements that aliments that vain attitude is mars dominant -mentioning to make more sense-.

Sassi (7500)- Uranus aspects: you could get away really easily out of trouble. I’ll compare you to a little devil -not really- but it reminds me of a little girl who has a “I did nothing” face and everyone believes her, she in fact did many things. asteroid sassi —> sassy.

Zerlina (531) - Venus aspects: shows you want to be in charge in your relationships -not only romantics-. reminds me of Uranus energy towards authorities: you don’t want to be told what to do, you want to be and that’s it. Depends on the aspect on how you manage that need/attitude.

If it’s square you have a conflict bc sometimes you want to be in charge and sometimes you wish others would take charge.

Diomedes (1437) - Mars aspects: if something bothers you there’s no doubt you’ll stand up by yourself, no matter who they’re, you don’t give a shit, you want them to pay. Others could affirm you turn into another person when you’re mad, you could use the power you hold. this also could be interpreted that you like to be dominant or the one who control things in bed. you could get turned on by people who has power or bothers you.

Kaali (4227) aspecting Ascendant: you hold a lot of power, to destruct and change. You have a lot of presence and when that presence is gone is obvious, people change because of you; something you left there bothers them and encourages them to grow. You’re unforgettable. You could feel the need to defend the weaker. You’re in constant rebirth.

Talent (33154) 6H can tell you have a natural talent of taking care of others, SADLY if it’s aspecting Chiron, it shows you, as a kid, learned to do it.

Ghoshal (17927) aspecting Mercury could mean you often feel others are not paying attention when you’re talking, your ideas, how and what you think. it’s really rare to encounter someone you feel it’s really interested in your mindset and share the same thoughts.

Canup (17836) - Neptune aspects can tell you need to be less delulu, separate what you think from reality -facts-, being more practical in order to become better in life, “reach your highest potential”.

♡ Based on personal experience and what I’ve analyzed in my surroundings.

♡ English is not my first language.

♡ I’m not a profesional astrologer.

Thank youu. baibaiii🫣🫶🏼💋

Do not copy. Please give me credits.

#astrology #astro observations #pinterest #astro posts #astro placements #astro notes #aspects #narcissus #bella #asteroids #asteroids astrology #asteroid sassi #peitho #Chiron #uranus #ascendant

[sarafinamk]

Fallen Angel (Smiling Critters Space Riders AU Reader Insert) Part 1

Summary: You failed as the Prototype's "archangel," and this is your punishment; being left to die while at the mercy of your enemies.

(This is my contribution to the Smiling Critters Space Riders Au. Please check out the talented @onyxonline for more context. I hope y'all enjoy.)

TW: Blood, Injury, Near Death, Imprisonment, Trauma, Death Implications, War, Witchcraft, Religious Trauma, Religious Imagery and Symbolism, Religious Cults, Religious Worship, Slight cursing

----------

You had one job: lead your people to victory. You are a warrior, a healer, a messenger. You are an archangel that needs to spread the word of the Prototype by any means necessary. You need to do your part to save the souls tainted by the condemned ways of the heretics. That’s why you’re here in the first place. Instead, you failed…

It's hard to say how long your mind has been hazy for. All you know is that it burns so much. Fiery hot and raging cold sensations dance and mingle around your body especially where blood was pouring out. The feeling of liquid invading and burning your lungs worsens the more you try to gasp for air. Flashes of light won’t stop assaulting your eyes even as spots of darkness slowing dance their way into your vision. As you close your eyes and try to ignore the sharp tingling in your eyes, one thought stands out among the rest.

‘So, this is what damnation feels like…’

A blurry orange figure looms above you followed by a red and a blue one. They shield you from the harsh light, prompting you to slightly open your eyes. More figures loom around you. All the sounds echoing around you are drowned out by the blood rushing in your ears. You suppose that this is a fitting punishment. You failed your people, yourself, and the Prototype. And now they have come to take you away, to give you your just deserved judgement. The thought alone is enough to make you whimper as your body curls around itself protectively. You try so hard to ignore the inferno now growing where your wounds are. This proves to be futile as hands pin you down, preventing you from curling in on yourself. The sounds grow more urgent, louder even. You couldn’t resist their grips anyways. You should’ve known it was futile to fight the inevitable. As blackness conquers the last of your vision, you pray that you will be granted mercy. You pray that your sins will be forgiven. You pray that your dedication to your duties will lead you to the happiness you have been promised. You pray that you have done enough to grant you eternal happiness. And you pray that you will continue to do good in the next life you are given…

----------

The team has been waiting outside the operation room for hours. Bubba and Bobby wasted no time getting you into operation considering your critical condition. Dogday has been pacing nonstop since getting you onto their ship. He was the one who insisted on taking you with them despite the protests from his teammates. Memories, emotions, and questions spiraled around and around his head, never giving him a second to rest. You’ve caused a lot of damage to not only his team but other parts of the galaxy. Dogday, however, being the sunny, kind-hearted leader he is will be damned if he just left another victim of the Prototype to die. Given the state of your injuries, unfortunately, the chances of your surviving in the long run are slim to none. That was stated by Bubba himself. Regardless, they still had to try, at least.

The canine knew that part of it was wishful thinking from Bubba and a couple others. Dogday can’t say he blames them for disliking the idea of helping one of the Space Riders’ most dangerous enemies. Leaving you to suffer the consequences of your actions means one less enemy to worry about. No one knows how or why you became the Prototype’s archangel apart from your Divinity powers. And maybe Catnap is right about the fact that Dogday’s heart is too forgiving for his own good. It’s just that that thought of leaving you, lying down, alone, and bleeding on the battlefield doesn’t sit right with him. That is not what the Space Riders is supposed to represent. They’re meant to give victims of the Prototype a second chance at life.

If you survive… maybe he and his friends could give you that chance. He hopes, at least. You could help a lot of people and use your powers for good. The riders could have a powerful friend and ally by their side. You could protect them like how you always protected your troops and the Prototype in past battles. You could have people to turn to and not leave you to die alone in the battle the moment things spiral downhill.

Dogday isn’t entirely naïve, though. Even if you survive, and you do agree to change your ways, there will be a lot of obstacles in your path. The obvious one was getting backlash from the Commander and members of HQ. The riders would have to disclose that they are hospitalizing one the most wanted enemies in the galaxy sooner or later. Given everything you’ve done, people are going to demand justice. Some will want to draw blood in the name of vengeance. Dogday would rather not risk that possibility. Maybe he and Bubba could find a way to convince the Commander and the Council to let you serve your sentence here under the riders’ supervision while you are being treated.

Time was passing so agonizingly slowly compared to Dogday’s thoughts. He wishes he could get some news on your condition now. At the very least, a slow update would suffice. Anything would do to finally put his aching head to rest. As if the heavens finally decided to answer him, the doors finally opened. Everyone, asleep or otherwise perks up hearing Bobby approaching. Her eyes droop, but her small, satisfied smile told everyone what they needed to know. Dogday breathes out a sigh of relief. You still need to be monitored for the time being. The surgery may have been successful, but that doesn’t mean it will be a guaranteed smooth sailing recovery. There are still a lot of risks that need to be accounted for at this time. The Space Riders rescued you in time, and that thought is enough to finally put the canine’s whirlwind of thoughts to rest. Dogday can now focus on the next priority; figuring out a way to disclose the recent events to the people of HQ.

#smiling critters #dogday #poppy playtime #poppy playtime 3 #poppy playtime chapter 3 #poppy playtime dogday #poppy playtime smiling critters #poppy playtime catnap #catnap #poppy playtime au #space riders au #smiling critters au #onyxriders #hoppy hopscotch #picky piggy #craftycorn #bobby bearhug #bubba bubbaphant #kickinchicken #platonic #x reader #poppy playtime x reader #gn reader #reader insert #gender neutral reader #angst #hurt/comfort #recovery #platonic relationships #platonic love

[brittle-doughie]

I’d like to imagine that y/n is involved in all the adventures going on in kingdom, and considering the previous update, I’d like to see y/n casually dropping that they fought a dragon like it’s normal to their new rockstar friends and them getting instantly worried

bonus if y/n brings snapdragon cookies as proof

[Be you, hanging with Black Lemonade and Bassist Cookie one time, jamming to her tunes when she taps your shoulder.]

Black Lemonade: You know, Y/N Cookie, I’ve heard a lot of talk about you and this Cookie Kingdom you’ve got going on.

Bassist Cookie: Aw yeah! Cookies from many of our gigs have brought you up here and there, quite the big deal.

Y/N Cookie: Well, when you’ve been through and been to places as much as I have, you aren’t really easy to be forgotten about in the eyes of many.

Black Lemonade: What exactly did you do for it to be like this?

Y/N Cookie: Oh boy, it’s a LONG story. Where to begin…

———————————————————————————————————————

Y/N Cookie: Where are you taking me!? You just upped and grabbed my arm out of nowhere!

Strawberry Crepe Cookie: Calm down, I’m just borrowing you for a second! I can tell you’re different from those other cookies? I just need a further analysis on you!

Chili Pepper Cookie: Get back here with Y/N Cookie, you little!

Gingerbrave: You let go of Y/N Cookie right now!

Strawberry Crepe Cookie: Ugh, so annoying. I’ll give them back when I’m done, promise!

Y/N Cookie: I could just slip away right now…

(Strawberry Crepe Cookie suddenly grabbed you with their large crepe arms!)

Strawberry Crepe Cookie: Not happening, I didn’t even get to have some time with you because of these…basics!

Healer Cookie: Hang on tight, Y/N Cookie! We will do our best to rescue you!

Y/N Cookie: Strawberry Crepe, we can talk about this. Just put me down and we can-

Strawberry Crepe Cookie: I needed to run field tests on these arms anyway, I’d rather they stop functioning all together before I hand you over.

Y/N Cookie: WHAT-

———————————————————————————————————————

Clotted Cream Cookie: Are you ready, Y/N Cookie?

Y/N Cookie: I made sure to pack everything I needed, I am missing some clothes, but I can manage without them.

Clotted Cream Cookie: Good, it won’t be a long stay, so there’s no need for worry.

Financier Cookie: The airship is ready to take flight, Consul.

Clotted Cream Cookie: Shall we, Y/N Cookie?

Y/N Cookie: There’s actually one tiny problem left.

Clotted Cream Cookie: Oh! What would that be?

(Y/N Cookie points to their legs, showing that Pure Vanilla, Hollyberry, and Dark Cacao are holding onto them tight.)

Clotted Cream Cookie: I think I see the problem here…

———————————————————————————————————————

Moonlight Cookie: Ah, no more! Your words hurt like the terror of nightmares. Y/N Cookie, stay close to me.

Y/N Cookie: Moonlight Cookie is right, Stardust Cookie! The Wizards meant no malicious intent, you’re not a failure!

Stardust Cookie: You look particularly fond of this cookie, Moonlight Cookie…what is it about them that you cherish? What is it about them that washes away your sorrow…?

(Moonlight moves more in front of you to block Stardust’s line of sight, Stardust’s attention on you has made her on edge.)

Stardust Cookie: Move aside, Moonlight Cookie. I wish to see them, to see what makes you hold them dear.

Moonlight Cookie: N-no, please. It would bring me pain to see them hurt.

Stardust Cookie: I will not bring them harm, I just want to get a look at them closely. Y/N Cookie, was it? Step forth.

Moonlight Cookie: They do not wish to, please understand-

Stardust Cookie: Allow them to make their own decision, you cannot speak for them.

Y/N Cookie: Leave her be, I’ll do it.

(Moonlight clutched you close in her arms)

Moonlight Cookie: Y/N Cookie..no….

———————————————————————————————————————

Hollyberry Cookie: There they are!

Tarte Tatin Cookie: Y/N Cookie!

(There, sheltering in the cave, was you. You held your stomach as jam was stained on your head as you held it. Your sword laid next to you, claw marks littering the blade. Your breathing was heavy. Hollyberry was FREAKING OUT.)

Hollyberry Cookie: Y/N Cookie please! It’s alright, I’ve got you. Tell me you aren’t hurt badly!

Y/N Cookie: Still breathing and-WHOA! Hey, come on now, Holly! I can’t exactly do that now that you’re squeezing me tightly again!

Hollyberry Cookie: Haha! It’s just that I’m really happy to see you alive! You had no idea how horrified I was when the Red Dragon carried you away! Pitaya Dr-Pitaya Cookie is still fuming from that!

Pitaya Cookie: Your dough! It’s all scratched up! Grrr, that imposter will pay for this….

Tarte Tatin Cookie: You are incredibly lucky to have escape the dragon’s grasp…

Snapdragon: (worried babbling as they went to your side)

Royal Margarine: What do we do know? The Red Dragon will surely come back!

Y/N Cookie: I can still fight, we can still make it to-ARGH!

Hollyberry Cookie: I can’t let that happen, Y/N Cookie. I can carry you the rest of the way, but you’re not drawing your blade again.

Y/N Cookie: Don’t worry about me, the others are hurt too..

Tarte Tatin: Eeugh! I’ll be alright, Y/N Cookie.

Y/N Cookie: Liar…

———————————————————————————————————————

Black Lemonade: ….

Bassist Cookie: Woah….gnarly.

Black Lemonade: Are..are you being serious, Y/N Cookie? A dragon? You fought a dragon?! Are you alright?!

Bassist Cookie: Yeah, are you all good, man? No lasting injuries or…

Y/N Cookie: Outside of burnt dough, several broken ribs, head injuries, and multiple therapy sessions, I’d say I got out of that situation pretty fine.

Black Lemonade: With what you’ve told me, you really are quite a big deal at your place. I’m..actually kind of flattered now since you’re a fan of mine.

Y/N Cookie: Oh yeah, totally. I’m hoping to make Snapdragon Cookie one too.

Black Lemonade/Bassist Cookie: Snapdragon Cookie?

(Cue Snapdragon Cookie suddenly popping out from behind you)

Snapdragon Cookie: Kyaaha!

Black Lemonade/Bassist Cookie: WHAAAAAAAAT?!

Snapdragon Cookie: Buubuu!

#brittle answers #cookie run x you #cookie run x reader #cr x reader #crk x reader #cookie run #cookie run kingdom x reader #cookie run kingdom #cr kingdom #black lemonade cookie

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Homebound.

Pairing: Yandere!Childe x Reader (Genshin).

Word Count: 2.9k.

TW: Prolonged Imprisonment, Obsessive Behavior, Delusional Behavior, Mentions of Torture, There Is A Kid Involved But Childe Just Sorta Found It In The Woods, and Disturbing Themes.

[Part Two]

He would be coming for you, soon.

The sky was still dark, the stars still as bright as they had been in the dead of night, but the moon was beginning to sink below the horizon, the lampposts that lined the street below your apartment beginning to fade as their oil stocks ran dry. You’d been at your window since sunset, too anxious to do anything more than stare at the scrapes of landscape and, occasionally, glance towards the cradle behind you, where your Lina slept soundly, unaffected by your racing heart or gnawing nerves. It was for the best, as unfair as it felt that you would have to burden her fear as well. You did this so she wouldn’t have to suffer like you had, wouldn’t have to live under the suffocating care of a man with too much power and too little love in his heart.

You were doing this so she would never have to know what it was like to be a part of Childe’s family, and a toddler's cluelessness wasn't going to be the thing that made you give up.

With a shallow sigh, you tore yourself away from the window and brought yourself back into the reality of your cluttered apartment, hastily thrown into disarray after his visit that afternoon. As many of your possessions as you could account for had been ripped from their drawers and thrown from their cabinets, brought out into the open where you could take stock of what few belongings you had. There wasn’t much you needed, really. Any family heirlooms or beloved childhood trinkets had been lost the first time you escaped from Childe, but you filled your pockets with what little you still considered dear to you  - a rose-shaped pendant a kind stranger had gifted to you when you first arrived in Mondstadt, a flimsy ring of golden vines and miniature cecilias you had won at a booth during the last Windbloom festival, and lastly, the sphere of metal and glass as-of-yet unbound by any casing. Your Vision, as much as you hated acknowledging the damned thing’s existence.

 Your cloak was next, dark enough to melt into the shadows of the forest and long enough to drag against the floor as you tied it around your neck. A swab of shapeless, black fabric accompanied it, but before you made use of that, you found the powered sleeping draught a healer had given your sometime back, when the nightmares were still too vivid to be suppressed by exhaustion alone. Gritting your teeth, you spread a small portion of the lilac dust over the pad of your thumb, and approached the cradle.

It was a small mercy, really, that whatever resemblance Childe had seen in Lina was lost on you. She had reddish hair, but it was too light, closer to blonde than ginger. Her eyes, while blue, were brighter, more curious, more full of life than those of a man who felt nothing but bloodlust and obsession could ever be. She did not have her abductor’s freckles, his pale skin, and you were thankful each time you looked at her that you did not see Childe, that she would never be bound to him by blood or by likeness.

You could remember the day he brought her home, no more than a few months old and bundled in his blood-flecked coat. He’d made it out to be a miracle, as if the archons had descended from Celestia and laid the child that you had selfishly refused to give him at his feet. You’d already decided to run away by then, already started to plan how you’d escape his awful little cabin and his awful frozen nation, but Lina had forced you into immediate action. It was one thing to submit yourself to Childe, to play soft and innocent for another week while you prepared. You couldn't have left Lina in his care for any longer than absolutely necessary and still expected to be able to live with yourself.

That might’ve been why your heart ached as painfully as it did as you reached down, slipping your thumb past her lips and spreading the powder across her gums. She stirred, her expression souring, but you swallowed back your remorse as the sleeping draught took effect, as she relaxed and fell into a sleep too still to be natural. The guilt was nearly overwhelming, but you would have to stomach it. Whatever happened, she couldn’t wake up. Not before you made sure she was somewhere safe.

Steeling yourself, you pulled the cloak’s deep hood over your head, lifted Lina from her cradle, swaddled her body in the black fabric, and slipped out of your apartment and into the night.

--

Childe was in your apartment.

In your living room, sitting in your favorite (and only) armchair, bouncing Lina softly on his lap. You could hear her cooing as soon as you stepped through the door, see her sitting upright and gripping at the fingers of an offered hand, taste the apology you'd been practicing for taking so long at the afternoon market, but it took you a little longer to notice Childe, to process that he was here, in your house, holding your daughter. Like he had any right to. Like you hadn’t gotten away from him.

“I can already tell - she’s gonna be a fighter.” He was already grinning, already pushing himself to his feet. You couldn’t move, couldn’t run as he came to stand next to you, holding her against his side. “That’s our little Atalanta. Barely a year old and already shaping up to be such a fierce warrior.”

Atalanta. You’d almost managed to forget that Childe had given her a name of his own – a name fit for a hero, at that. Your Lina wouldn’t be a hero. She wouldn’t carry a name that demanded a place in the tales of adventures and on the tongues of storytellers. She would live a quiet, happy life in Mondstadt. the city of freedom. She would be great if she wanted to be, but she wouldn’t be a weapon. She wouldn’t be what he would’ve raised her into.

“She's growing like a weed, too.” And yet, you couldn’t seem to say that. You couldn’t seem to move. A hand fell to the small of your back, his smile taking on a softer drawl as he let his head lull to the side. “We’ll have to redecorate the nursery. I tried to keep up with all the milestones, but it’s been… how long? Nine months?” He paused, chuckled. “You kept me lonely, you know that? I didn’t even have our little Atalanta to keep me company.”

Something very large and very sharp lodged itself in the back of your throat. “Lina.”

Childe’s smile faltered. “What was that, dear?”

“Her name is Lina.” You were smart enough not to try and tear Lina out of his arms, but that did little to stifle the temptation. “You’re not welcome here. Get out and get away from my daughter.”

He let out a breathy laugh, pulling away from you and returning Lina to her cradle, unbothered by your meager threats. “You’re really going to be stubborn about this, huh? I let you go on your little trip, gave you more than enough time to live out your little fantasy in this rotting shack of a country, and you’re still going to be stubborn?” Another laugh, another faltering grin. He started towards you, careful to keep himself between you and Lina, but it was an unnecessary precaution. You were rooted to the ground, unable to move as he embraced you – wholeheartedly, this time, both arms wrapped around your waist as he pulled you off the floor and into his chest. You could feel his smoldering breath fanning over the side of your neck, his blunt nails burrowing into your sides as he fought to keep you as close as possible, but you did nothing to resist him. You weren’t going to fight him in front of Lina, no matter how much you wanted to claw at his face, to shove at his chest, to get him away from you. You weren’t going to make her watch that. “Come home. I’m only going to ask once.”

He hadn’t asked at all, but it would’ve been a waste of time to point that out.

“Are… are you going to hurt me, if I refuse?”

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m going to hurt you either way. You ran away from me. You stole my daughter.” Spoken softly, with more than a note of anticipation in his voice. “But, if you don’t put up a fight, I’ll try not to break anything that won’t heal.”

--

His subordinates were swarming the area around your apartment. They couldn’t wander openly, not with the attention their concentrated presence would draw, but you could feel their eyes burning into you from side streets and alleyways as you descended the narrow staircase, prying into you for a moment before moving onto their next target. They were looking for someone who fit Childe’s description – a sweet, doe-eyed thing carrying a child made from sunlight and laughter, not someone dressed for weather much more hostile than anything Mondstadt had to offer, trotting a formless heap of material. What interest your attire would’ve garnered dissolved completely as you joined a large group of passing drunkards, thrown out of their taverns and sent to stumble home at some unholy hour, too belligerent to do anything but welcome you into their numbers. It was a small blessing that you'd spent as much time in the taverns as you had, despite how little you cared for wine. There wasn't a barfly within Mondstadt's walls who would think to question your presence among them.

You followed them north, through the city’s commercial district, keeping your head low and Lina wrapped in your arms until you reached the gate to the eastern port. The drunkards continued on, but you remained.

It was deserted, as you thought it would be. You knew Fatui agents were posted at the city’s gates, waiting to catch you if you tried to flee this nation, too, but the eastern port wasn’t so eye-catching, wasn’t such a vital thing to guard when it came to blocking off the possible escape routes of runaway captives. Even if it hadn’t been so easily forgotten, it would’ve been a waste of men to guard. There was only one bridge over Cider Lake, and no one in their right mind would try to swim across, especially with a child in tow. Unless you could walk on water, the main gates were the only way in or out of the city.

Unfortunately for Childe, you weren’t as helpless as you’d been the first time he stole you away.

You followed the shore for as long as you could, until the city’s walls threatened to bend and reveal your position to the agents posted at the main gates. With no lack of trepidation, stepped onto the sand and reached into your pocket, taking up your Vision and holding it tightly in your clenched fist. The chill bit into your palm, unhindered by any casing, pure Cryo energy pulsing beneath the hazy surface of the glass. You hadn’t been able to look at it for weeks after you arrived in Mondstadt, and even after you’d started to overcome your aversion, it was hard to imagine a world wherein you could carry it proudly, where you could give such an awful thing the care and attention it’d take to learn how to use it properly.

Not that you had time to practice, right now. It was all you could do to give yourself a few seconds to catch your breath as you stepped out and onto the lake, the glassy water instantly freezing underneath your feet. A hairline crack formed across the surface as you shifted your weight onto it, but the ice held, and you let your shoulders slump, relief replacing a fraction of your anxiety. It was slow progress, each step hesitant and unsure, but you persisted, even as frost crept up the heel of your boots, even as a chill more pointed and more penetrating than any you’d felt before seeped under your skin and into the gaps between tissue and bone.

Even as, as much as you loathed to admit, you realized that the cold was not quite as unpleasant as you'd hoped it would be.

--

“But, if you don’t put up a fight, I’ll try not to break anything that won’t heal.”

You glanced towards the cradle, towards Lina as she struggled to sit up and started to look for her suddenly absent source of entertainment. It wasn’t good to lay her down so quickly, to leave her unattended while she was still awake, but once again, you doubted it’d be of any use to tell Childe that. “What’ll happen to Lina?”

“I’ll take care of Atalanta, obviously.” You could feel his lips against the curve of your throat, the points of his teeth against your skin. “I've had to wait months for this. Do you really think I’d neglect her now?”

You were more worried about how she’d turn out under his full attention.

But, you pretended to consider it, pressing your lips into a thin line and going quiet. After more than a few seconds, you brought your hands up to his chest – not shoving, but nudging gently, softening yourself into something delicate, something he’d be able to understand. There was a throaty, disappointed groan, a minute or so of resistance, but eventually, he lowered you back onto your feet, letting his hand fall to your hips. “I’ll come with you,” you started, slowly, deliberately. It hurt to say, the sentiment searing your throat and catching on your teeth. The fact that you, of course, did not mean a word you said was only a minor salve. “But, Lina deserves one last day in her home, and so do I. Give us until dawn tomorrow, then we’ll both come willingly.”

He bowed his head, falling far enough to let his lips brush against your forehead. He’d always thought of any distance between your body and his as an unnecessary frivolity, a luxury he wasn’t willing to give you. Apparently, your time apart hadn’t lessened his distaste for separation. “You know how pointless it is to run, right? The Fatui have every plank of wood in this city under surveillance, and my subordinates won’t be as forgiving with you as I am.”

“Please, Childe.” You lean into him, melting against his chest. He was a soldier, a warrior, not a diplomat. If you were sweet enough, if you spoke in a way that appealed to his delusions, then he would listen. “Just one more day. Then, you’ll have us for the rest of our lives.”

There was another squeeze to your waist, another lingering kiss to your forehead. “One day.”

There was no need to look at him as he pulled away. You could practically hear his smile.

“Then, you’re all mine.”

--

You made it to shore unscathed, but your trek through the forest was not so painless.

Each step was labored, made more impossible by the bundle in your arms, the weight of your cloak, the months you’d spend living in domestic peace. Your cloak snagged on every stray branch and boulder, your boots easily caught under roots and stray vines, and the darkness of the night only served to make each obstacle more unavoidable, more difficult to shield Lina from. Even holding your daughter was a challenge, once the adrenaline faded and exhaustion began to set in. Your arms ached where they had not already gone numb, and your chest swelted underneath the heavy fabric, more suited for Snezhnaya's eternal winter than Monstadt's ever-present summer. Resigning yourself to the main road would’ve cut hours off of your journey, but roads were patrolled, and you could not risk meeting another person – knight, adventurer, and agent alike. You didn’t have the time it would’ve taken to explain yourself, let alone pick a fight.

You travelled west, across the valleys of Windrise, through the most wilderness-infested outskirts of Springville. The sky was beginning to lighten by the time your destination came into sight, and with its purpose now obsolete, you shed your cloak and began to descend, taking your time to skirt down sheer rockfaces, to wad through the slow-running streams that webbed across the land. You navigated through the rows of wooden racks and grape vines, not yet in bloom, only letting yourself slow as dirt turned to cobblestone, as the mansion before you turned from a shadowed suggestion to a great, towering structure – secure in the sheer implication of its size.

Finally, finally, you came to a stop before the main entryway. It was all you could do to stand there for a moment, to stare up at the mansion and note all the minute differences between its face and that of Childe’s cabin. When you finished, you raised your hand and, with as much force as you could manage, knocked on the door to Dawn Winery.

A maid answered immediately, confusion turning to abject horror as she noticed the state of your clothing, the leaves and debris caught in your hair, the thousand or so tiny cuts and scrapes pleated over your arms and face. She opened her mouth, but you spoke first, unwilling to spend any longer out in the open than you already had. “I need to speak to Master Ragnvindr.”

She pursed her lips. “The young Master does not—”

“Concerning what topic?”

It was a masculine voice, coming from further down the hall. Somewhat begrudgingly, the maid pulled the door open, allowing you to see into the dim mansion. Diluc stood at the other end of the hall, half-dressed, a length of black ribbon in one hand and his hair gathered in the other. Clearly, you’d interrupted his morning rituals. “I’ve heard,” you started, unwrapping Lina’s bundling and praying that those long nights spent listening to the rumors that swirled in the deepest pits of the darkest taverns would serve you well. “that you do not hold much affection for the Fatui.”

His gaze flickered from you to Lina, to your trembling arms. With little hesitation, he approached you, meeting your eyes as he reached for your daughter. You gave a reluctant nod, and he took her up, holding her to his broad chest. “I've always preferred to keep less blood-stained company.”

“In that case,” You step across the threshold, allowing the door to fall shut behind you.

“How would you like to make a Harbinger very, very angry?”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere oneshot #yandere genshin imagines #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact #genshin impact imagines #genshin imagines #yandere genshin x reader #genshin x reader #yandere childe #yandere tartaglia #childe x reader #tartagalia x reader #yanderecore #yancore

[bloofinntoona]

Baby's Breath

Word Count: 1.4k

Themes: Fluff, a little bit of angst? Sebastian Sallow x F!Reader (Reader's house can be up to you!)

Summary: (SPOILER FOR HOGWARTS LEGACY ENDING) You're asking Sebastian Sallow who will he take to the Yule Ball.

Author's Note: So... This is my first fanfic(after a while). I played Hogwarts Legacy and I love Sebastian's questline and his story. I'd thought I wrote a little bit of a story after the main HL story. Based on the marriage question???? scene from the first Avatar movie.

A year has passed since the massive battle with Ranrok, as well as the murder of Solomon Sallow. You, Anne, and Ominis had decided to not turn Sebastian in. The weight of killing his own family member was tormenting enough for the teen, there was absolutely no need of putting him behind bars at Azkaban. Despite the darkness that has been brewing inside Sebastian, his friends still have much love for him. Especially you.

You didn't think much of it at first. Why, Sebastian Sallow was notorious for being the Slytherin bad boy. Dodging detentions here and there, and persistently asking his schoolmates to duel in his not-so-unsanctioned-secret-dueling club. One would think that this boy was a menace. But you know that he was more than that. Sebastian was smart, curious, relentless, outgoing, kind, cunning, and obviously as ambitious as a Slytherin could be. As if the boy couldn't be more perfect, he has the most beautiful hazel eyes you've ever seen. You particularly noticed the tiny freckles that adorned his face — you swear you could see constellations if you connected the dots.

Getting back to your relationship before the incidents was not easy. Ominis and Anne took their time to make small talk and joke around with Sebastian. You, on the other hand, shared a kinship. You also wielded the unforgivable curses with him. You often found yourself between Sebastian's arms, finding consolation from the responsibilities of being the so-called Hogwarts Hero who possessed the Ancient Magic. There was also a time when Sebastian broke down in your arms, feeling guilty for being too absored in the Dark Arts. Nevertheless, time is the best healer as you both were able to cope and live somewhat normally in school.

After all that you both have been through, there was never a point where you confessed to each other. Yes, you hugged and comforted each other. You swore you felt him kissed your forehead once. Perhaps it's the archaic rule of courting in the 19th century that your guardians had been drilling into your brain. Or perhaps you're just too scared of being rejected and loosing the closest friend in your life.

⁂✲＊⁂✲＊⁂

You shifted your feet back and forth, hearing the snow rustling underneath your platform shoes. Merlin's beard, you thought, where in the world is Sebastian? Saying that it's freezing in Hogsmeade is an understatement. The wind blew past your ears as you cursed yourself for putting your hair in an updo today. You jumped as you felt hands tickled your sides, "Hey!" you shouted, turning around. Sebastian grinned, "Sorry, 'had to pick up something earlier." He patted your head, which prompted a red blush spreading across your face. "Shall we?" He offered his hand as you head into The Three Broomsticks. Nothing like a full glass of Butterbeer can make you feel better, especially with Sebastian as your company. This is how you both liked to spend the weekends after a tedious week full of classes and homework. The outing almost ended with You and Sebastian racing on the broom, cruising over the lake until you both reached the rickety docks in Lower Hogsfield, looking over the school.

"That was a good race. Obviously, I was here first." The boy puffed his chest.

You rolled your eyes, "Sure, consider yourself lucky that we're alone 'cause I literally landed first!"

Sebastian and you playfully bantered, pushing each others' broom. He accidentally pushed a bit too hard which sent you flying back. "Oop-!" you yelped as you felt his swift hands caught your back and pulled you close to him. Too close. You felt your chest pressed against Sebastian. Godrick's Heart, did he grow taller? You also swore he was not this strong and muscular before. Puberty years did work wonders for teen boys. Feeling his warm breath against your face, you started to panic and gently pushed him away. You swore you could see a hint of disappointment in his face.

"So," you cleared your throat, "The Yule ball is coming soon. I, uh, heard that you're supposed to look for your own date." You paced around the dock, afraid to look at Sebastian. "Have you thought about who you're going to ask?" You bitterly questioned him. A part of you was a bit disappointed that Sebastian didn't ask you when the ball was announced. You'd expect him to take you, even as friends. The thoughts of Sebastian secretly having a crush without telling you made your guts churn. It's not like other boys haven't asked either, Garreth Weasley was very sweet, offering an enhanced (his words) Wiggenweld potion warped in a bow with an invitation to the ball. You were flattered, but you thought there wasn't a point of going without the boy you actually had a crush on.

"I thought about it." Sebastian calmly said, using his wand to cast Levioso, levitating a rock and flung it to the lake.

"Oh..." you gulped. "May I know who?" You wanted to slap yourself for asking, why would you want to hear answers that will hurt? You still have your back facing Sebastian.

"Guess!" and there's Sebastian Sallow, never making it easy for you.

You used your wand to flung some pebbles into the water. "Well, Imelda Reyes is an amazing flyer. I bet you learned a flying trick or two from her," You smiled bitterly, "Plus, you both are in the same house, so I bet you're close with her?"

You could hear his laugh. "No way, I'm not keen on being ridiculed by Imelda." Sebastian flung more rocks into the water.

"I guess Natty is a good option too. She's brilliant, probably the kindest person I've ever met-"

"What about me?" Sebastian joked, "I'm also kind."

You rolled your eyes. "Also she has a professor as a parent, like you."

"It's not Natty, too... Gryffindor for me," He shook his head, "Don't get me wrong, Natty's a good friend. But she's just a friend for me."

"What about Poppy? She's the cutest girl in school. I think her passion for the beasts is amazing too." You chimed.

Sebastian shook his head again. "Nope, not her."

You raked your brain, thinking about the rest of your schoolmates. You didn't even notice Sebastian's footsteps inching closer to you.

"Ominis?" you blurted out, now facing Sebastian. Hearing your question, he made a face and blurted out an explosive laugh. "I mean I would, but he probably would kill me first," he wiped a tear from his eyes, "no, not my dear friend Ominis Gaunt."

"I give up!" You held up your hands, "I don't know who you have in mind."

Sebastian lets out a sigh. "There is this girl," he stood close to you, "She is beautiful, brave, and possesses an ability like no other. She's always eager to beat me in duels and learn new things. This girl is always there for me, through thick and thin. Even though I was a sodding disappointment of a mate, she still greets me with a warm smile. I don't think I could be here right now without her."

Your breath hitched, feeling warmth crept around your face. Sebastian's face is turning red as well. He took your hands in his, caressing your fingers softly. You can feel your body heating up despite the cold air. "I'm glad you came to Hogwarts. Having you in my life was the best present the universe gave me." He reached inside his pocket and presented you with a corsage decorated with baby's breath and baby blue ribbon. "I was going to give it to you tomorrow. But since we're having this conversation..." He smiled, face red as ever, "Will you go to the ball with me-"

Sebastian didn't get to finish his sentence before you crashed your lips against him. You could feel electricity sparked all over your body, butterflies flying all over your stomach. It seemed like forever, feeling his soft lips molded with yours. His hands rested on your waist, gently pulling you closer. You snaked your hands around his neck, entangling your fingers in his brown locks.

You broke the kiss, resting your forehead against his. "I'd take that as a yes?" Sebastian whispered. You nod, couldn't get a word out of your mouth. He smiled, peppering small kisses on your cheeks before capturing your lips for another kiss.

He pulled back, took your hand, and wrapped the corsage around your wrist. "You know, I had to do a bunch of tasks to have Professor Garlick help me grow this flower." He chuckles, admiring how the flowers looked on you.

"Sebastian.. I-" You grinned widely, "Thank you. I would love to go to the ball with you." You couldn't help but to wrap your arms around him again. "Why baby's breath?"

"Well, darling, they said it's the symbol of everlasting love."

⁂✲＊⁂✲＊⁂

#sebastian sallow #fluff #sebastian sallow fluff #sebastian #ominis gaunt #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x reader #hogwarts legacy #the way i screamed #yule ball

[lucysstoryworld]

Lease of Life | Azriel x Reader Part 1

Summary: The youngest Archeron sister had been plagued by sickness her whole life. Her family just had to watch as she endured a slow, agonising death. However, the events of her sister’s transition into Prythian has the Archeron sisters having to endure the change of their very existence. It seems to be a new lease of life for (F/n), but her new life is not as sweet as she would like as she realises that she is slowly falling for the Shadowsinger, whom only has his sights set on her elder sister. 

Warnings: Death, violence, angst, dark thoughts.

Series Masterlist

Hey! This is my first Azriel fic after having so many ideas! I hope you enjoy and let me know if you have any feedback. I’d be willing to start a tag list for anyone who might be interested, but I will not accept anyone who is under the age of 18, so please either state your age in either the ask/message/comment or just have it in the bio of your blog!

Soft light peaked through curtains, bringing with it a gentle breeze from the cracked window. It would have been serene were it not for the pain that accompanied your existence in this world. Another day of being coddled like a child by the maids. Perhaps your sisters would grace you with their presence again today, letting you know that they had found yet another healer who claimed to have the ability to nurse you back to health. 

Health. Not a day in your twenty years had you ever paired yourself and the word healthy in one sentence. Sick from birth. Living from one ailment to the next, waiting for the day where you did not awake again. When your father had lost his wealth, you and your three sisters were forced to move into more “modest” living circumstances your father had called it. Not that you considered slowly starving to death modest. The gain that Feyre had hunted was barely enough to scrape by on, let alone having to spend any spare coin she had to provide you with medicines so you did not meet your maker within the following days. Guilt consumed you when you realised she would give you half her serving of food, see her forego a new cloak to get her hands on some sort of treatment for you. Often you had wished that your next bout of flu or fever would suck you into the darkness just so Feyre, Nesta, Elain and your father might have better quality of life. 

But then, Feyre had left. Gone with some distant, well off aunt. From living in a hovel, to being reintroduced to wealth you could just barely remember. Feyre took with her Nesta’s shame, your father’s sadness and Elain’s desperation. If only she had taken your sickness too. You had hoped that the sudden wealth would provide some cure. That would give you a new lease of life. However, healer after healer, remedy after remedy had dashed all hopes of you ever living a normal life. Though, Nesta and Elain seemed determined to scour to the ends of the earth for a healer that could give you your life back. 

It had frustrated you. Their sudden willingness to help when they watched Feyre give everything but the clothes off her back for you. They sat and judged her. Nesta’s pride was just as strong as her protection over Elain. Two women content with sitting around, waiting for a man to take their hand in marriage. Pathetic. You wanted to shake them out of their silly daze, tell them to go live the life you yearned for. Travel, go horseback riding, anything. Anything other than sitting around the house, gossiping with those who turned their noses up at you and your family when poverty had the Archerons in a chokehold. Those same people who now looked at you as a charity case. Spoke about you as if you were not in front of them. 

How terrible for such youth to be bed bound. 

So disappointing for a lady of your age to be unable to get married. 

Never to have children — such a shame. 

The maid entering the room tore you from your pitiful thoughts. “Good morning, (F/n). How are you feeling?” 

“The same as I have all my damn life, Dina,” You all but bit back. 

“Language, child. You won’t get better with that attitude.” Another optimist. Great. It took every modicum of self control not to tear into her. But you would not. Dina was about as kind as they got. She was the closest thing to a mother you had known, after losing your own before you were old enough to walk. 

“Sorry, Dina. What’s on the schedule for today?” You hoped there would be no visits from any of your sisters’ aristocrat friends. Not today, today you were tired and wished to at least pretend as though you were normal. 

As if the gods above had answered your prayers, Dina spoke “Nothing, for once, sweet one,” She replied softly as she helped you to sit. “You may do what you please today.” Her voice was like honey as she took a brush to your thin hair. Dina was the only handmaid who had treated you like a human. Although she was cautious, she allowed you some freedoms that often had your sisters reeling with concern. Nesta had tried to dismiss her the first time you walked around the manor with Dina by your side, claiming that a seizure could take you at any moment and that Dina was not fit to look after you. She had relented when she saw how genuinely happy you looked at the mere prospect of walking .

“Great! I would like to have breakfast in the dining hall with my sisters today.” With a ‘hmph’ of agreement from Dina, she prepared you for the day. She smoothed each article of clothing over you as if you were a living, breathing work of art. 

Once she was satisfied, her brows furrowed slightly as she held her hand to your forehead, “You have a slight fever, child. You better take it easy today.”

With a sigh from deep within your soul, you breathed a “I always do.” 

The walk from your bedroom to the dining hall was more taxing than what you were used to, a tell tale that you would likely be completely incapacitated in the following days. Though you did not let it show. If there was even so much a whisper of your health taking another turn, Nesta and Elain would have one of the butlers carry you back to your room. As you approached the doors to the dining room, you could’ve sworn you could hear Feyre. You knew it wasn’t true. She hadn’t visited once since she left for your aunt’s. However, the closer you got, the more voices you could hear. “I thought you said there were no plans today.” 

“There wasn’t.” Perhaps it was one of Elain’s wedding planners who had an appointment. Ugh. 

Nothing could prepare you for what you saw when you opened the door. Fae. There was no doubt about it when you beheld the wings, the pointed ears and the ethereal beauty each of them possessed. In spite of the fact that the creatures you were taught to fear were standing a mere few feet from you, what sent your mind into a haze was seeing Feyre with them. Standing among them with pointed ears, with a frame more elongated than what you remembered, with that same otherworldly presence than the others.

“What the fuck,” You breathed, not entirely sure if this was a dream your fevered brain had concocted. 

“(F/n) what are you doing out of bed?” Nesta barked, rushing over to you. Within an instant, she was shielding you from the guests. Her hands brushing over your cheeks and forehead. “You’ve got a fever, you shouldn’t be down here. Go back to your room.” Nesta’s voice did not leave much room for argument.

“(F/n),” Though Feyre looked different, her voice was just the same. The only difference, that she sounded more mature from when you last saw her in your dilapidated cottage. Pushing passed Nesta, you walked to just in front of your sister, who seemingly held her breath as you assessed her. Face filled out, strong body and she looked happy. Happy with her company and the beautiful man with violet eyes standing next to her. She opened her mouth, then closed it again. You had never seen her at a loss for words, not with you, not ever. The man by her side placed a hand on the small of her back as you continued to scan her silently. She did not break your gaze once, but visibly relaxed just at the touch of her partner, you had gathered by now. “(F/n), I’m sor-.” 

Before she could even finish, you flung your arms around her, holding onto her as though she had risen from the dead. And when Feyre returned the embrace, you buried your head into the crook of her neck to hide your tears from her company. “Don’t,” you sobbed, “Don’t you apologise to me. Not when you are the only reason we did not die in that cottage.” It was now Feyre’s turn to cry. Pulling away from her, you smoothed your hands over her hair. Eyes taking in every single detail and committing them to memory. You wiped her tears with your thumbs and placed a kiss on each of her cheeks. “Do you want to introduce us to your friends before this gets awkward?” You joked. 

Feyre stepped back into the arms of the man, while Nesta and Elain approached your side. Nesta looked as though she was ready to rip Feyre to shreds and Elain looked entirely bewildered by the situation. “Nesta, Elain, (F/n)... This is Rhysand. The High Lord of the Night Court in Prythian and my mate,” you looked to the man standing next to Feyre, his eyes piercing yet kind. Both Nesta and Elain stood stationary. Assessing him. Calculating whether or not he was a threat. Looking from them to Rhysand with a slight roll of your eyes, you approached him and offered your hand.

His hand was large and strong, you could’ve sworn you could feel the magic thrumming in his blood. With a gentle smile, you looked deep into his eyes. “Rhysand, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise, (F/n). Feyre has told me a great deal about you.” His voice was like spiced rum, filling you with warmth akin to the heat of a fire on a frigid snowy night. 

Your eyes shot to Feyre’s with a knowing smirk, her cheeks rosy as she beheld her... mate she called it. She gestured towards the blond woman next, who appeared to be very eager to meet you, “This is Morrigan. Rhys’s cousin. She oversees the court.” 

“Nice to meet you, Morrigan.” Shaking her hand, you laughed gently as she smiled at you excitedly.

“It’s great to meet you, (F/n).”

“Next is Amren, Rhys’s second in command.” You barely registered Feyre as you moved to look at Amren. Amren seemed different than the others, though you could not quite place your finger on it. Nonetheless, you shook her hand and introduced yourself. Feyre moved on to to the tall winged men next. “This is Cassian, the general of the Night Court’s armies.” 

Cassian had his eyes trained on Nesta, the two in a staring contest. Each of their expressions were about as sour as they got, daring one another to say or do something brash. You snorted slightly, drawing Nesta and Cassian’s attention to you, “I haven’t seen anyone that didn’t wither under Nesta’s glare,” You could feel her burning holes into the back of your head yet you remained fixed on the general, “It’s nice to meet you, general.” 

“It’s nice to meet the sister Feyre speaks nothing but fondly of,” He replied quietly, taking your hand in his and looking at you with so much emotion. You weren’t sure where it came from, but he was clearly troubled about being in the presence of Nesta. You were sure you’d find out soon whether you wanted to or not. 

Feyre ushered you along to the final member of the group, not without a pointed and warning glance at the general. “Last, but not least, (F/n) this is Azriel. The spymaster of the Night Court.” 

For once, you felt at a loss for words. The being in front of you was the most striking man you had ever seen. As if the gods themselves had forged him. His dark skin, golden eyes, short black hair and domineering wings jutting out each side of him. His gaze sucked the breath from your lungs. Azriel held his gloved hand out, and you absentmindedly lifted your own to meet it. The heat of his grasp jumpstarted your brain back to reality. With flushed cheeks and a smile you found your voice, “Pleasure to meet you, Azriel.”

Azriel nodded in acknowledgment as his eyes swept over you, “Pleasure is all mine.” Gods, his voice was unlike anything you had ever heard. It sent a wave of shivers gliding across your body. Although, you were aware of the way he was analysing you. Scoping out whether you were any sort of liability to his court. Figures. 

Letting go of his hand, you stepped back and addressed the group as a whole, “While it is lovely to meet you all, I’m sure you are not here to just reunite Feyre with her family.”

This seemed to bring Nesta to life as she stood in front of you, taking command of being host instead, “I agree. What do you want, Feyre?” Nesta’s demeanour sucked the joy out of the room within the second, Feyre’s face turning grim.

“We should sit down,” She replied quietly. Unease settled in your stomach. Grabbing her hand, you guided her to the table and sat yourself next to her. Rhysand placed himself on her right, and the rest of her… friends sat around you both. Your remaining sisters sat across from you, Nesta making sure she gave you a disapproving stare before she refocused on Feyre.

The talking went on for what felt like hours, Feyre explaining the war across the wall which seemed to have the end of the mortal worlds written in its destiny. The thought of it made you sick, the fighting that was approaching. Approaching fast. And you knew, that you would have to lie in your bed and wait. Sit idly by as your dearest sister fought a war that was not hers to start with yet she had embraced because of the people sitting around you both. A family. That’s what they were. Rhysand and his peers were a family. Part of your soul ached at the notion of Feyre leaving you and your dysfunctional family in order to find one that suited her better. That she had not visited once, to try and work on her relationships. But you quickly dashed all thoughts, understanding flooding your senses. When she was human, she gave up everything so everyone else would thrive around her. She hunted so you had food, she got money in whatever way she could so your family stayed clothed. Most of all, she had to fight tooth and nail in a losing battle to make sure you did not die. So she left.

And did not blame her for it.

In the brief moments you were stuck in your thoughts, Nesta and Cassian were nothing short of brawling.

“That’s enough,” Feyre all but boomed. Her sudden burst seemed to hit Nesta like ice cold water.

“You do not get to come into my home and order me around after you left!” Nesta spat in reply, “You do not get to come here and ask of us what you are asking!”

Feyre took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders, “I know that, Nesta, I know. I wouldn’t put you three in this position if I didn’t think it was-.”

“Don’t finish that. Don’t you dare. Because this is not the first time you’ve done this. Not when you showed up a year ago wailing about another fae you just had to save, leaving us in the dust again!” It was rare that you ever saw Nesta this riled up. Her anger was something you tried to avoid at all costs. You believed that if she had the ability, Nesta’s rage would burn the world down around her.

That was not what you were focused on in that moment. No, it was what she said about Feyre already having been there. A year ago. “What are you talking? When was Feyre here last?” Heat spread across your body, the fever catching up with you. Nesta’s eyes shot to you as she realised what she had just let out of the bag. “You’re saying Feyre was here a year ago and you didn’t let her see me. Is that what you’re saying?” Your body began to feel strange. A slight sweat was breaking out across your forehead as a thrumming began in your head.

“(F/n) you were very unwell when Feyre arrived last year, you were barely hanging on and we didn’t want to stress you out more than what was necessary.” The first time Elain had spoken this whole time. She spoke gently as though you would break at any moment.

“Oh please, spare me!” You snapped. “I’m so sick of you treating me like this! Would you all get a grip! I’m dying, and have been since the day I was born! Just accept it!” You shoved your chair back from the table with trembling hands. Standing brought with it a wave a dizziness that you did not allow anyone the time to observe before you continued your rant, “For once, I just want you to think about me and not yourselves. Just once! You would have let me die a year ago without the chance to see my sister one last time. Whether you like it or not, these are not your decisions to make. They’re mine.” You began walking towards Dina, whom you hadn’t realise has been tucked away in the back of the room this whole time.

It took one look at you for her to realise you were going downhill, and fast. She quickly approached you and placed her hand on your forehead once again, “You are burning up, child. Come, you need rest. This was too much for you,” She spoke quietly, sending a quick but not unnoticed glare at your sisters. Feyre included.

“Dina…,” You whispered, vision swimming. “Dina, I don’t feel good.” Your body began to hunch as the nausea took hold.

With speed you didn’t quite understand, Feyre was next to you with her new family in tow. She placed a hand on your back, looking at her mate with concern. Gods, she had never seen you so weak. When you entered the room, she felt as though she was looking at a living corpse. You looked so different from when she left the cottage and not in a good way. Cheeks sunken, dark bags, skin clammy and a body that was so thin that it looked like a breeze could’ve knocked you over. Her heart was like led as she realised that you were, in fact, close to the end. Your mortal body would not hold out much longer.

As if fate was playing a cruel trick on her, Feyre watched as your body crumpled on the floor, laboured breaths leaving your body as consciousness slipped away from you. Rhys was on his knees next you in an instant, about to take away any pain you were feeling when “Don’t you lay a hand on her,” Nesta barked.

“Nesta please! He can help,” Feyre pleaded, grabbing your hand in a panic.

“Now is not the time for bickering. Help me take her to her rooms and I will look after her,” Dina ordered. The group looked toward one another. No one missed the way you looked for your maid. They saw how much trust you put into her, so they did as she said. Azriel stood forward and carried you to your room, with everyone following close behind.

As he set you on the bed, he stood back and watched as the maid began placing damp washcloths onto your head. Every time he had been in the human lands, he had found it unsettling to see how illness could kill so easily. How fragile human life was. And seeing the way Feyre paced the bedroom made him realise just how much she had forgotten it as well.

“Dina,” Nesta finally spoke, though her eyes did not leave your struggling form for a second as though she was afraid you would die the moment she moved her gaze. “How long does she have?”

“It’s hard to say,” Grim, that was the only way to describe her tone, “She has a strong heart. And she has pulled through worse. But there’s only so much her body can take.” Dina began stroking your hair gently. “She knows this too. (F/n) told me recently that she can feel her time approaching. She is giving up. I have tried to keep her spirits up but she has lived her whole live like this. She only wants us all to give up too so she may die peacefully.” Elain began to cry softly, each and every being in the room coming to the realisation that they were witnessing your death. Witnessing your death before you had truly lived. “She isn’t likely to wake again before tomorrow and if she does, she won’t make much sense with her fever.” While Dina was not directly dismissing the group, they were all clever enough to read between the lines; leave and let (F/n) rest. 

* * *

Coolness draped across your forehead is what eventually pulled you back to consciousness. A wave of violent shivers had you trying to pull the cloth from your head, when a gentle hand kept it in place. Opening your eyes took more effort than you were willing to admit. Dina was standing over you, her slightly wrinkled face smiling gently down at you, “You know the drill, sweet girl. I can’t let you take the cloth off.”

Grumbling a sigh, you attempted to sit up. The pain that clamped down on your head rendered your attempt useless as you settled back into your pillow. “How long was I out?” 

“A few days, Feyre and her friends left the same day they arrived.” Dina spoke softly, taking your hand and massaging it gently.

“So it wasn’t a dream then, she was here,” Tears gathered along your eyes. Frustrated that you had only gotten to spend such little time with her. 

“I’m afraid so, child. But she will be back within a few weeks.” 

“You and I both know I don’t have a few weeks,” You whispered, afraid that if you spoke any louder, despair would rip you apart. For so long, you had accepted your fate. But now, things were changing. Your sister was fae and had come home to ask for help. It had been a long time since you felt this way. Felt like holding on, just to see this out. But it was too late, your body was giving up. 

“I know, (F/n), I know. Your sisters asked me to alert them when you awoke. I will go get them now.” You appreciated Dina not trying to convince you that this wasn't the end. 

“Don’t bother, it’s late and the conversation can wait until tomorrow. I don’t fancy listening to excuses about why they didn’t tell me that Feyre was here a year ago.” 

“Very well. I am going to bed, but as always, if you need anything just ring the bell and I will be straight up. Sleep well, sweet girl.” Dina leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on your clammy cheeky before fluffing up your pillow and securing the washcloth to your head before taking her leave. 

Staring up at the ceiling, thoughts rushed through your head. Feyre’s new existence, Elain and Nesta’s betrayal, your own fate. It was all so confusing. For the first time in your life, you wished you had the normal life of an aristocrat girl of your age. The only drama occurring in their lives was what member of nobility had found themselves in compromising situations, like a family member becoming pregnant before wedlock. A humourless chuckle left your lips, how mundane that life seemed yet so appealing in your current state.

It felt like hours before you were ripped from your thoughts by the sound of distant crashing somewhere in the manor. Despite the barking pain across your body, the noise had you sitting upright in an instant, heart thumping painfully in your chest. A second later, Dina was in your room, her face and body the epitome of panic, “Stay quiet,” She whispered. She made quick work and pushing some heavy furniture in front of the door. 

“Dina, what’s going on?” Panic was gripping you, the adrenaline making you stand with little effort. 

“I do not know, child. Stay back, you are still weak.” Ushering you to the furthest point from the door, she stood like a rock in front of you, as if she could protect you from whatever the world was throwing at you in that moment.

Not even a few breaths later, the door and all the furniture in front of it was ejected across the room, wood splintering and crashing to the floor in pieces. A scream rattled through both you and Dina, the latter curling herself around you to prevent the wood from impaling you. The sound of heavy footsteps had Dina turning her back on you once again. 

“Step aside, human.” It was fae who had invaded your home. From what you had gathered from Feyre’s visit, it was likely their enemies. Leverage. That’s what the intruders were seeking. 

“Leave, creature. I will not ask you twice,” Dina growled. Her courage was unmatched, such a strong woman that you wished you could be like. However, your trembling body represented quite the opposite of the bravery your handmaid was presenting. 

A cruel snicker escaped the fae’s mouth, and his smile sent every hair on your body standing on end, “Interesting. Brave humans are always the most fun.” 

Before Dina had a chance to open her mouth in retort, the beast was on her in an instant, grabbing her by the neck. You could not tear your eyes from her body being lifted from the ground, the noise of her choked sputters had you begging the intruder to let her live, “Please! I’ll do anything, just let her go!” 

The creature locked eyes with you, his gaze looking through rather than at you, “Good, that’s what I like to hear,” He started lowering Dina slightly. 

“..R-...Run!” She squealed, voice cracking under the grip of her attacker.

Gods you wanted to, but fear anchored your feet to the ground. Dina’s eyes pleaded with you, begged you to run for your life. As if the fae attacker knew what you were gearing up to do, he snapped the Dina’s neck and lunged for you instead. Your screams ripped through the manor as Dina’s lifeless eyes looked to the roof, unseeing. You barely registered Dina’s murderer grabbing you and hauling you towards the exit as your soul seemed to stay in your bedroom with Dina’s corpse. It just didn’t make any sense, just a few hours before she was kissing your cheek before bed. She was supposed to be sound asleep, resting for another day of looking after you in your sickly state. 

“(F/n)!” Nesta’s panicked shout shocked you into action, pulling and scratching at your attacker. 

“No!” You attempted to pull yourself away as Nesta and Elain’s own captors knocked them unconscious. Yet, before you met the same destiny as your sisters, the stress your body was under had black tunnelling your vision. Blood began to trickle from your nose, and the pulsing in your head rendered you limp in the arms of the stranger. 

Before your awareness evaded you, you faintly heard the group laughing with a taunting, “Bet you wish your one went down this easy.” 

Following that, the world went black. 

*** 

Any feedback would be greatly appreciated! Also if there are any mistakes, just let me know! 

#azriel #acotar #acotar azriel #acotar angst #azriel x you #azriel x reader #azriel angst

[cienie-isengardu]

Cienie's Star Wars sidenotes

While doing research and writing down the last pieces of Funeral Rites of the Clone Troopers, it became even more clear how The Clone Wars animated TV series did a great disservice to Jedi, especially in the context of medical care for clones.

TCW has clone medics, both as part of combat units (e.g. Kix from 501st Legion) and working apparently in the medcentre as sometimes was presented on the screen.

The role of doctors treating wounded troopers was given to Kaminoans (Nala Se) and droids and sure, those two groups were part of the whole GAR’s medical system in the Legends too. However Jedi Healers (doctors), as far as I remember, were seen treating mainly other Jedi like Yoda

and even then TCW barely paid attention to force healing as an important skill. 

The research about medical care for clones gives a pretty drastic idea of what was happening during and after battle which is understandable why the show destined for younger viewers didn’t go into full details about triage of wounded but considering how many dark themes were put in the same show, I dare to say not showing medical care provided by Jedi or common Republic doctors and nurses (who btw are a rare example of republic citizens conscripted into army during the war) actually is unfair. The show reduced one very important aspect of Jedi - they weren’t just generals and commanders either sending or leading troops into battle, they also provided medical help, whether they were specifically trained at healing or not. 

In Legends, we could see Jedi Healers assisting the army on various occassions, working in triage area like in Republic comics series:

The triage unit, where Jedi healers labor to save the lives of the wounded, was set up safely behind the line of battle. But as the fortunes of war shift, so do the battlelines.

and worrying first about wounded even in the face of serious danger

Master Saa! We’re cut off! There’s no way to get the wounded out!

and searching for survivors

Master Saa is hurt! She pulled the trees on top of us for protection...

and working in hospitals

Follow me Skywalker. We have much healing to do. The Jedi sickbay, where we treat the most severe injuries. And our own, of course. Master Offee has saved countless lives. She seldom leaves her post to rest. But we all work long hours.

Not to mention the whole Medstar duology dedicated to padawan Bariss Offee, doctors and nurses serving in Republic mobile hospitals close to frontine - and yes, forever I’m gonna be bitter about how TCW/New Canon treated the most iconic Jedi Healer.

(The cover art for Medstar: Jedi Healer by Dave Seeley)

When padawan Skywalker arrived at New Holstice with his troops, he was immedialy called to assist in the nearest sickbay

“Are you injured, master Jedi?”

“Not really, no.”

“Good. You can make yourself useful by heading to the nearest sickbay. We need all the Jedi healers we can get...”

and for context, this is Anakin two days after after Jabiim, one of the worst war campaigns Republic experienced so far, the solely survivor of Jedi Pack traumatized both by the loss of his comrades and what happened on the planet and forced to make a devastating choice is literally told to get at work ASAP because every Jedi in between assignment was working here hard to heal the most wounded..

Though no healer himself, Anakin even force-healed injured trooper on battlefield to stop him going into shock:

Supporting the commando trooper with his left arm, Anakin warded off blaster bolts on the run. The rest of Squad Seven supplied cover, blowing STAPs out the sky with uninterrupted fire. Cody motioned everyone into a shallow irrigation trench just short of the mound. By the time Obi-Wan arrived, the troopers were deployed in a circle, and continuing to pour fire into the sky. Anakin slid into the trench a moment later, lowering the commando gently to the muddy slope. Squad Seven’s medical specialist crawled over, removing the commando’s ravaged utility belt and deeply dented helmet.  [...]

The harvester’s pincers had crushed the armor into the commando’s abdomen. His skin was intact, but the bruising was severe. With only half the original army of 1.2 million in fighting shape, the life of every clone was vital. Blood and replacement organs - - what the regular troopers referred to as “spare parts” - - were readily available - - “easily requisitioned” - - but with the war reaching a crescendo, battlefield casualties were on the rise and treated as high priority.

“Not much I can do for him here,” the medspec told Anakin. “Maybe if we can get an FX-Seven air-dropped - - ”

“We don’t need a droid,” Anakin interrupted. Kneeling, he placed his hands on the injured commando’s abdomen and used a Jedi healing technique to keep the clone from going into deep shock. [Labyrinth Of Evil]

(and included request for evacuation of the wounded trooper when Cody called for artillery support)

In Republic comics series alone we could see Jedi showing concern for the wounded troopers at various moments, putting their well-being as priority:

or helping (healing) wounded enemies:

And I won't lie, it is frustrating how Legends, especially Republic comics series that had around 40 issues put so much pressure on Jedi Force healing and how Jedi care for wounded troopers while The Clone Wars (New Canon) that lasted for decade or so kinda ignored the issue? Which is unfair to Jedi and clones alike. The first are presented as less caring, at times indifferent? the latter deserved to have all the available medical help, not just Kaminoans and droids.

#star wars #jedi #jedi healers #clone troopers #legends vs new canon #anakin skywalker #luminara unduli #bariss offee #aayla secura #mace windu #i wil be bitter forever for how tcw treated bariss offee #i demand new canon to bring back the jedi force healing their troopers and wounded in general

[valeskafics]

"Sweet Boy" - Aemond Targaryen x Twin!Reader

Summary: You've had quite enough of your husband neglecting you.

TW: profanity, innuendo, canon-typical incest, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, p in v sex, unprotected sex, oral sex f receiving, face sitting, choking, hair pulling, mommy kink, degradation kink, pregnancy, breeding kink

Word Count: 4,020 words

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Aemond may be your twin, but the two of you could not be more different. Where Aemond is cold, you are warm. Where he is stern, you are sweet. Where he is unfeeling, you feel everything all too much. Where he studies the blade, you find delight in dancing. Where he studies history and philosophy, you study art and are fascinated by fantasy. Two souls, as different as can be, yet perfectly matched to each other.

You love your twin, truly, more than anything in the world, fully devoted to him from the moment you two were born. The maesters insist to this day that Aemond shrieked and screamed as a babe until you were born, as though he knew you’d been taken from him, that he calmed only when your mother held you both in her arms, his tiny blue eyes finding yours.

The older you grew, the more obvious the differences between the two of you became. While Aemond grew into his Valyrian looks with long blonde hair and light colored eyes, you favored your mother, darker hair than his falling in loose curls and big dark eyes, wide like a doe’s. Where he is all sharp and hard edges, you are soft and smooth. The pair of you complement each other perfectly, and it was no surprise to your parents when Aemond demanded your hand in marriage at the tender age of ten.

When he lost his eye, you were the only one he showed any vulnerability in front of, sobbing into your chest, stating that you were now betrothed to a broken man, that he was unworthy of being your husband. You suggested that you take out your own eye to match with him, causing your mother to panic and hide every knife in the Red Keep from your reach.

While you were always considered to be the joy of the realm, a people’s princess who delighted in visiting with the smallfolk, singing and dancing at balls, Aemond was your silent shadow, your dark protector, following behind you everywhere you went, completely devoted to you.

Now, years later, your twin and now lord husband serves as Prince Regent, ruling in your eldest brother’s stead while he recovers from his injuries in battle. You busy yourself with caring for Aegon, reading to him in the rare moments that he’s awake or singing him the lullabies he once sang to you when you were a babe. And, sometimes, he manages to gather whatever strength he has to reach for your hand and give you that soft, quintessentially Aegon smile, saying that what you’re doing is better than what any healer ever could.

Sometimes you wonder if you’d have been better off marrying your older brother.

Aemond loves you. That’s a fact you’re certain of. As certain as the sun rises in the east and sets in the west, Aemond loves you. And you love him. He would die before ever betraying you, before ever deserting you. And you would do the same. But as of late, you feel taken for granted by your husband.

You can’t recall the last time he kissed your lips, too tired when he finally retires to your marital chambers to do anything save for fall asleep, his back turned to you. No longer telling you you’re beautiful, brushing that stray curl off your forehead as he always did. No longer taking his evening bath with you, holding you in his arms. He doesn’t even take his evening meals with you anymore, if he ever takes them at all, so overwhelmed by the responsibilities of running a kingdom.

Well, you intend to put a stop to all of that today.

You bang on the door of the small council chamber, escorted by Ser Arryk, a serious expression on your face. The door is answered by Ser Criston Cole, who quickly bows to you. You notice Arryk staring at the Dornishman with a disdainful look, but without asking about it, you turn to the Lord Hand.

“Ser Criston, I need to speak with my husband.”

Criston gives you an apologetic look, “My lady, he has requested not to be disturbed-”

You push past Criston into the room, staring at Aemond, anger evident in your gaze while the rest of the small council looks at you, intrigued by the situation, “I am a disturbance to you now, am I, husband?”

Before Aemond can even speak, you raise your hand, silencing him.

“I’ve come to inform you that I will be taking residence in Helaena’s chambers,” you state, your voice cold and firm, “I’ll be having my things moved there tonight.”

The small council’s eyes dart back and forth between you and Aemond as the severity of your words sinks in. Aemond opens his mouth to speak, but closes it quickly, pressing his lips into a thin line as he stares down at you. He gestures for the room to be emptied and the noblemen quickly take their leave.

Aemond inhales sharply before turning to you, “You come in here during the middle of a strategy-”

“It is the only time you appear to be reachable,” you snark back at him, turning on your heel to leave, “I merely wished to inform you of my plans, brother, do with that information what you will, I care not.”

Aemond catches up to you with two long steps, grabbing you by the arm, firmly but not enough to cause you any harm, turning you to face him, “You will not be leaving our chambers, my love. You are my wife, not Helaena’s-”

“With how little time you spend with me, I may as well be Aegon’s wife,” you wrench your arm away from him, “At least he appreciates me! At least he notices my existence!”

Aemond looks as though he’s been slapped when he hears your words. He stares down at you, his eye going wide with anger as he speaks, his voice low and firm, attempting to regain control of the situation.

“You are my wife, not Aegon’s, not Helaena’s, you are mine.”

“And yet this is the longest conversation we’ve had in weeks, Aemond,” you clench your fists, feeling your nails digging crescent shaped marks against your palm with the intensity of your grip, “I deserve better than what you are giving me.”

“My love,” Aemond takes a deep breath in an effort to calm himself, cupping your face in his large hands, the ones that you so love, but right now only serve to annoy you further, “This is not you. You are a sweet and kind-”

You glare up at him, “Do not mistake my kindness for weakness, husband. The blood of the dragon flows through my veins in equal measure as yours-“

Aemond sighs, running a thumb over your cheek, “Kelītsos-“

“Do not,” you pull away from his grip and hiss angrily at the fond nickname - his kitten - something he’s never called you outside the bedchamber, “Refer to me as that. You are to refer to me as my lady or my princess, with the respect I am owed as a princess of the blood.”

“I-“

“I said,” you narrow your eyes at Aemond, relishing in his discomfort at your newfound attitude, “Is that understood, husband?”

Aemond swallows thickly and nods, “Yes, my princess.”

You give him a nod and turn to walk away, Aemond gaze following you all the while. He doesn’t understand why his cheeks feel so flushed or the way his cock stirs against his breeches at the thought of you… So angry like that… Taking control of the situation. Of him.

Aemond realizes after a moment that rather than feel angered by your perceived insolence, he feels intrigued. Like he wants you to put him in his place. And he’s quite sure that the place where he belongs is beneath you. Serving his beloved princess, his sweet wife.

That evening, Aemond dines with you and you avoid every one of his futile attempts at conversation, instead conversing with Daeron. Aemond watches how Daeron’s eyes continue to flicker to your lips, how happy you sound in his company. And he feels lost. He wonders if he has truly ruined things to the point that there’s no going back for the two of you. You are the only person he’s ever truly loved besides your mother and sister, and his love for you goes so much deeper than his love for them.

You revel in the feeling of Aemond’s gaze on you, of his desire for your approval. Does he really think that he can just waltz back in for dinner one evening and that everything will be right as rain? If so, he has even more cheek than you thought.

After dinner is over, Aemond comes to take your arm and walk with you to your chambers, but you ignore him, stating you’ll be reading in the library for some time and that he should just go do whatever it is he usually does. Aemond stares at you, hurt, before walking off and waiting for you in your chambers.

You make him wait for an hour, which feels like days, weeks, months to him. Aemond immediately comes to help you undress when you enter the room, placing soft kisses along the nape of your neck, your now bare shoulders, as your dress falls to the ground, leaving you in only your slip.

“You’re so beautiful,” Aemond murmurs against your skin, “Shall we take a bath together?”

“I’ll take a bath alone, thank you very much, husband,” you say, still refusing to give into his apologies, “Perhaps you can take a bath with one of your small council members. You seem so very close after all-”

Aemond lets out a low snarl and pulls you toward him, grabbing you by the hips, “Why must you be so cruel to me? So cold? You know I love you, adore you, worship the ground you walk upon-”

“You certainly have a funny way of showing it,” you push him away, watching as he stumbles backward onto the bed, pouting up at you, almost looking like that same little boy you once used to know, “You are very lucky to have a wife as understanding as I am. As devoted-”

“As cruel!” Aemond protests, looking at you from his spot on the bed.

“As cruel? You want cruel? Perhaps I ought to punish you then. Perhaps I ought to spank you the way our mother should have when we were children,” you sneer down at him, your face a mask of disdain and disinterest despite how the idea of spanking him sparks a fire inside you that you didn’t even know existed.

Aemond’s eye goes wide at your words and he stutters slightly, seemingly incapable of forming a coherent thought. You arch an eyebrow at his reaction and slowly move toward the bed.

“Oh, you like the idea of that, don’t you?” you taunt, crawling over to straddle him where he lays on the bed, your hand stroking his cheek gently, tracing the pattern of his scar, “You want me to punish you, don’t you?” Aemond’s eye closes and he nods, his breath catching in his throat when you move to grip his chin in your hand, “Use your words, husband.”

“Yes,” Aemond’s voice is barely above a whisper as his eye opens and he meets your gaze, watching you as though he’s entirely entranced, “I want you to punish me, my lady.”

You smirk, nodding to yourself, getting off of him, enjoying the little whimper of protest he gives as you do so. You watch as Aemond quickly rids himself of his clothes, demanding that he go slower. Aemond lets out a huff of annoyance but acquiesces, slowly revealing his form to you, his cock already achingly hard.

You approach him, your fingertips grazing over his length, “Your cock is hard from me threatening you, husband? How pathetic. Oh, I’ll certainly need to remember this for the future.”

Aemond gives you an annoyed glare, letting out a quiet groan as you give his cock a light slap, “You bloody minx-“

He lets out a hiss, pained but still wanting more of your touch as you repeat the action, “What did you just call me?”

“I’m sorry,” Aemond manages to grit out as you give his length another light smack, “My princess. My lady.”

“Much better, now, lay down on the bed,” you demand, “On your stomach.”

Aemond grumbles to himself but does as you ask, laying down on his stomach, letting out a sharp exhale of breath, his achingly hard length grazing against the soft sheets. All he can think about is how badly he wishes to bury himself inside your warmth, to fuck you, to show you how badly he wants you.

That’s when he feels your hand come down on his ass. His reaction to the sting of your slap is delayed, but he lets out a low hiss.

“Count, sweet boy. How many was that?”

Aemond remains silent for a moment before gritting his teeth and speaking, “One.”

You admire the way his skin reddens under your touch as you continue.

“Two… Three… For fuck’s sake, how much longer-”

You bite back a laugh, continuing to go about punishing your twin, “We’ll stop at five if you quit your whinging, darling brother. If you don’t…”

“I’ll stop, I’ll stop- FUCK,” Aemond gasps, “Four.”

You run your hand over his skin, soothing the sting, feeling him relax against your touch, before delivering the final slap. You giggle as he lets out a yelp before groaning out, “Five.”

“Such a good boy for Mommy,” you coo as he turns around to lay on his back, gazing up at you, his eye blown wide, “Such a sweet boy.”

“Mommy,” he repeats as you remove his eyepatch, tracing your finger over the raised skin of his scar, “Let me be good for you, please?”

You think to yourself about how he can best be good for you when an idea comes to your mind. A wicked little idea, but one that you think will be quite pleasurable for the both of you. You move to rid yourself of your underwear, only wearing your slip with nothing beneath it now. You move to straddle Aemond’s waist, your bare center brushing against his cock. Aemond lets out a sharp breath at the feeling, bucking his hips up against yours, only for you to deliver a gentle slap to his chest.

“That’s not happening yet, husband,” you taunt, “You haven’t earned the privilege of filling me yet.”

Aemond frowns, insistently bucking his hips against yours again. You let out an annoyed sigh, your hand moving to close around his throat, squeezing ever so slightly. Aemond moans against your touch, his hips stilling as he realizes you are being quite serious about him not being able to fuck you yet. You admire how he looks beneath you as you crawl over his face, your cunt hovering just over his lips.

“I’m going to use your pretty little mouth for my pleasure, sweet boy,” you coo, running a hand through his hair before gripping a lock of it tightly, making him moan again, “And you’re going to enjoy every minute, aren’t you?”

“Yes, my lady.”

You grip the headboard so as not to put too much of your weight on Aemond and let out a mewl as you feel his lips on you, his tongue. You grind yourself against him, reveling in the feeling of his tongue delving deep inside you. And gods, when his nose brushes against your pearl as he grips your hips pulling you closer… You swear you see the Seven Heavens themselves. Gods, even the cleft of his nose feels so incredible rubbing against you, you can’t even begin to describe the feeling. Aemond notices this and smiles against your skin, quickening the movements of his tongue, nuzzling his nose against you. You all but squeal, letting go of your grip on the headboard, Aemond grabbing you by the ass, pulling you closer.

“Aemond, don’t want to hurt you-”

He ignores you and keeps going, licking and sucking at you, even grazing his teeth against your sensitive folds. You try to pull back, but Aemond pulls you closer, desperate to taste you, to bring you to your peak on his tongue. He focuses his attention on your pearl, driving you over the edge. Soon, you’re spilling yourself on his tongue, crying out his name as you ride out your wave of pleasure.

You move off of Aemond, admiring the way the evidence of your climax coats his chin and lips, the way he licks said lips, staring at you with hunger. You straddle his hips, your hand slowly moving to stroke his cock, your movements far too slow for his liking, your thumb grazing along the prominent vein along his length. Aemond thrusts up against your soft hand, desperate for relief, which you are not prepared to grant him. Instead, you laugh and pull your hand away entirely.

“Please, my love,” he whines, “I was good for you, please-”

“You’ll take what I give you, sweet boy,” you grin at him, “Now, I’m going to set the pace. You don’t get to touch me, you don’t get to do anything. You just lay there. Are we understood?”

He glares up at you, his lips forming a slight pout.

“I said are we understood, Aemond?” you repeat, your voice taking on a harder edge as you look at him.

Aemond doesn’t understand why seeing you so in charge, so dominant like this, is driving him mad, as he nods, “Yes, Mommy.”

With that, you sink down onto his cock, letting out a moan as he fills you up. Aemond groans at the feeling of having you around him, his fists balling into the sheets, desperate for you to move and not torture him the way you have been. But no, you stay completely still. Aemond moves a hand to reach for your tits, only for you to slap it away, giving him a warning look. Suitably chastised, he throws his head back, crossing his arms and staring up at you.

“I can see now how obvious it is that you too are descended from Maegor the Cruel.”

You can’t help the giggle that bursts forth from your lips at his childish insult, “Aw, my poor baby. You just want me to fuck you, don’t you? You’re so desperate for it. Poor, sweet, pathetic little thing.”

Aemond nods feverishly, “Yes, I’m pathetic for you, please just move.”

“Beg me to move, sweet boy,” you lean down, your curls falling like a curtain over the two of you as Aemond stares up into your beautiful doe eyes, always so innocent but now anything but, “Beg me.”

“Fuck, please, Mommy,” he babbles as he feels your cunt squeeze around him ever so slightly, “I need you so badly, please!”

“You can beg better than that,” you taunt, raking your nails down his chest, squeezing his nipples, giggling at the moan he lets out, “Come on now, Aemond, my good boy. Beg for me.”

“I need you, I’m going to die if you don’t fuck me right now, Mommy, please,” he cries out, barely resisting the urge to buck his hips against yours, “Please, please-”

“Alright, alright, quit your whining,” you giggle, beginning to move your hips, bouncing up and down on Aemond’s cock, “I’ll fuck you, sweetheart.”

Aemond’s voice cracks as he lets out a moan of your name, one that you let slide despite him not referring to you properly. You impale yourself on his length over and over, his cock brushing against your sweet spot with every movement you make. And he listens to your demands, his hands staying firmly in place on the bed, even when you lean down to kiss him, your own hands tangling in his hair, tugging ever so slightly. You fondle your own breasts, tweaking and pinching your nipples, enjoying how Aemond gazes up at you, his lips parted in awe at the sight before him.

And finally, when you give him permission to touch you, he does so like a man starved. His hands grope at your ass, moving up to hold your hips as you continue to move against his cock. With Aemond’s help, you move faster and faster, his hips bucking up against yours, meeting every one of your movements with his own. You gaze into his eye and he stares into yours, the moment glaringly intimate as you lean in and kiss him, your bare chest pressed against his. You whisper his name against his lips as one of his hands moves to tangle in your curls, kissing you back desperately, as though you are the very air he breathes.

Aemond’s hips stutter against yours as he feels your cunt squeezing around him tighter and tighter, finding it harder to move the closer you get to your peak. You continue moving against him, moving one hand down to circle your pearl, smiling to yourself when Aemond gently pushes your hand away, replacing your fingers with his own. You reach your peak with a loud moan of his name, collapsing against him as he gently rolls his hips against yours, soon reaching his own climax, spilling himself inside you.

You move away slightly, but Aemond holds you close to him, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Your head falls down against his chest, both of you trying to catch your breath after the intensity of everything that just happened.

“I’ve neglected you,” Aemond admits softly after a moment, “You care for Helaena, for Aegon, for Helaena’s children. You do so much and ask for so little,” he props himself up on his elbow, running his long fingers over your face, smiling as you lean into his touch, “Ask me for anything. Name it and I will give it to you, my princess.”

“Come to bed with me each night and take your meals with me,” you respond, gazing up at him, “You are the prince regent, but you are my husband too, sweet Aemond.”

Aemond smiles as you kiss his palm, pulling you into his arms, holding you tightly, “You are right, my love. I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to forgive,” you hug him back, “But, um, there is one small little thing I forgot to mention to you, my love.”

Aemond pulls back slightly, giving you an amused smirk, “Oh? And what is that, my love?”

You take his hand and press it against your stomach, giving him a lazy smile. Aemond’s eye goes wide in delight, “I’m ready.”

In one easy, graceful movement, Aemond pins you beneath him, making you laugh, gazing up at him, “You’re ready? To have a child together?”

You nod, pulling his face in closer to you, kissing him softly again before speaking, “I am. I want us to have a family together, sweet Aemond.”

Aemond can’t help the delighted laugh that escapes from his lips as he kisses you back, first on your lips, then peppering kisses all over your face, on your forehead, your cheeks, as though he’s unable to contain all the love he feels for you in that moment.

“You’ve made me the happiest man in the Seven Kingdoms,” he murmurs, bringing his lips back to yours again, “I love you, more than words could possibly express.”

“And I love you,” you whisper against his lips, giggling as you feel him begin to harden against you, grinding against your thigh ever so slightly, “And what in the world are you doing, Aemond?”

“You said you wanted to start trying to start a family,” Aemond raises an eyebrow, giving you a mischievous smirk, “I think now is as good a time as any to begin, don’t you?”

You wrap your arms around him and pull him close, “Your seed may not take the first time, you know?”

“Then I suppose I’ll have to fuck you over and over again until it does.”

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x you #aemond fic #aemond x fem!reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #prince aemond #prince aemond targaryen #prince aemond x reader #hotd fic #hotd x reader #house of the dragon fic #hotd #house of the dragon x you #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon #my writing #targcest #mommy k*nk #aemond oneshot

[supernaturalfreewill]

"God, Sam!" You steadied him as he nearly collapsed in your entryway as soon as the door was open. "Jesus, what happened?" you asked, your eyes drawn to the concerningly large crimson stain spreading across his stomach and side.

Sam hobbled farther inside your house and you slammed the door on the cold and the rain. "I'm—" he winced, "sorry to just show up like this. You're the closest safe place I could think of."

"It's fine. Were you driving around like this??" You ushered him into a chair and then surveyed him again. "Look at you. I told you: heroes get hurt, Sam. Villains get even," you joked, despite the seriousness of his injuries. "I suspect they have more fun too."

Sam managed a small laugh which drew his mouth into another wince. He settled more heavily back into the chair. "Are you suggesting you're the latter?"

You tilted your head, considering him for a long moment. Even pale, bathed in sweat, and covered in his own blood the man was handsome. It was almost infuriating. "It's a work in progress."

Sam laughed again. "You're a healer. I don't think being a villain is in the cards for you."

You began to unbutton his shirt so you could see the full extent of the damage and set to work. "Maybe not. But you won't find me throwing myself into danger in quite the same way you and Dean do."

"Good," Sam said. "But I'm hoping you can help me with this?" he asked as his shirt fell away.

You nodded, knowing this would drain much of your energy. "Yes, I can. But it may take me a couple days to finish completely," you replied, alternately balling your hands into fists and stretching your fingers out, as if warming them up. You hovered them over the wound and could feel the burn and sting of it itching in your palms. Your eyes shut.

Sam studied your dark lashes and the pout of your lips. "You don't have to heal it completely. Just—make sure it doesn't kill me," he added with a dry laugh.

"Hush," you scolded him, not opening your eyes. "This is my expertise, hero. I'll do what's best."

Prompt: "Look at you. I told you: heroes get hurt. Villains get even."

#sam winchester imagines #sam winchester drabbles #sam winchester x reader #sam w x you #sam x y/n #reader insert #fanfiction #supernatural #spn family

[saturnianprincess]

[pick a card] your relationship

In this reading, I will tell you about the type of love you share with your future spouse / long-term partner.

How to choose a pile: Close your eyes, meditate on the piles if you feel like and pick the one your intuition guides you to. As always take what resonates and let the rest fly! Hope you enjoy this reading :)

Pile 1

The relationship you share with your person will be a calming yet emotionally fulfilling one. You both could be each other's wish or manifestations. There will not be any power imbalances and you both consider each other to be equal. There is a sense of building or creating something together. Mostly, I'm seeing starting a business or following a dream of yours with their help. It's like you both will help uplift each other to be your best versions. People may feel like your relationship with your person is too good to be true. People might feel that you are hiding or not sharing the negative aspects of it, but my lovelies your person is literally a gift to you from the universe. I'm not saying you would not have any struggles as such but I see an initial lack of commitment for either you or your person. At times you both might get too busy with pursuing your own dreams that you get tunnel-visioned so be mindful of that. All in all, they are your future partner and will be a lucky charm for you.

a song for this group:

Pile 2

You will have a fun, lively, and outgoing relationship with your person. You will socialize and party a lot. Some of you might meet them at one! You both will face a lot of obstacles, and encounter snakey people or situations but I see that you will overcome these challenges bravely. You both prioritize quality time with each other. They will fill your cup with so much love and gift (yea some of yall's person loves to spoil you with expensive gifts). There may be the occasional conflicts or arguments but I see both parties dealing with issues with emotional maturity and rationality. You both would place each other on the pedestal and treat each other with the utmost respect. I see you go on lots of adventures and impulsive trips with your person. Your person might be a little protective of you. You both complement each other in the best way. Ying-Yang energy. You both will encourage each other to step out your comfort zones. You both will experience so many new things with each other.

a song for this group:

Pile 3

For this pile most of your future spouses/partners are healers. You will meet them when you are in a dark place or struggling alone. At first, you will be guarded and defensive with them, but over time you will reach a point of understanding that they are here for you, to help you heal. You might be stuck in a toxic situation or with a toxic person unable to see the way out, but your spouse/partner will help you get out of that. Your relationship with them will be full of sunshine and happiness. Some of you will have a family with this person or for others, their family will be so accepting of you. They will be there for you whether you choose them or not. Your connection with them will feel so ethereal almost like you are imagining things. Your person will nourish your soul and heal your wounds with love. If you are burdened with something they will make sure to remove that burden from your shoulders. Will literally even sacrifice themselves for you so be careful to not let them overdo this. You both would need to ensure that there are strong boundaries in place.

a song for this group:

Pile 4

Those who chose this pile are most likely to end up with their soulmate. This is a love-at-first-sight relationship. You both were definitely supposed to be with each other in this lifetime. Your relationship is balanced with both of you being very much involved to make this connection work. There is a high level of intellectual stimulation. You both love to work or read in each other's company. The couple who loves to debate and chat about stuff all day long. There's a sense of familiarity with this person. You both are each other's safe space. Both of you are clingy to each other. But I do see that you both encourage each other to maintain your own life and personality. At times though either of you may get too co-dependent on the other so make sure to take some time out to reflect and keep the element of independence in the relationship. You both will be very emotionally receptive to each other. I see lots of cuddling and skipping parties just to be with each other. It is a very cute rom-com-type relationship. You both will laugh a lot together and have this best-friend vibe.

a song for this group:

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#Spotify #pick a card #tarot cards #tarot community #future spouse #love reading #relationship #astrology community #divination #pick a pile #free tarot #future lovers #pariposts

[rubysunnday]

only twenty minutes to sleep

summary: far beneath the earth, Y/N lies awake, fearing that the shadows might return and finish what they started. Far beneath the earth, Nikolai lies awake, contemplating his grief and Y/N

a/n: not sure what this is, but it wouldn't leave me alone so i wrote it

No one knew how long they would be stuck underground for. Nikolai had sent soldiers to scout out the route to safety and check it was safe before he even would consider moving.

So, for now, deep under the Little Palace, Y/N was lying on the ground, roughly cushioned by her jacket and an old blanket, searching for sleep.

The attack by the nichevo'ya had rattled all of them. Whilst some were worse off than others, no one had gotten off uninjured. A shard of glass had sliced Y/N’s thigh as she’d ran down the corridors. It wasn’t until the adrenaline had warn off that she’d even realised that she was injured.

Blood had trickled down her leg, staining the material of her trousers. Tamar and David had done their best but neither one of them was a healer. Y/N just had to cope with the pain for now.

Y/N had closed her eyes and was lying as still as she could, but sleep taunted her. Just as she felt herself drifting off, someone would walk past and wake her or she’d shift, sending fire through her leg.

She yearned to talk to Nikolai, to simply spew her feelings to him and share her fear.

Because she was scared. She was terrified.

But Nikolai was king now. He was engaged to Alina and whatever Y/N had felt for him… well, she had to leave it in the past. Friends was all they could possibly be now, no matter what the other wanted.

Groaning, Y/N opened her eyes, squinting at the light of the candles and torches burning around her. She pushed herself up, trying not to move her leg too much, and sat back against the wall. The stones dug into her back slightly, but it was a nice distraction from the throbbing of her leg.

Staring up at the torches burning in front of her, Y/N pressed her thumb to her middle finger, searching inside of her for the familiar burning feeling. It surged towards her, through her veins, and as she held her fingers to the candle sitting on the floor next to her, fire surged up, sitting happily in her palm.

Y/N had always had mixed emotions towards her Inferni powers. Sometimes she wished she’d been a Heartrender or a Durast - something that meant more. Because anyone could make fire.

She couldn’t even summon fire at will, she had to ignite it with a spark or a flame. Yes, she always had a piece of flint on her, but when you were down on your luck, with nothing on you, there was no way to make fire.

Y/N sighed, trying to chase away the thoughts. She rarely trusted her mind after a certain hour - it always veered off into the dark depths, bringing up unwanted memories and thoughts. It was hard, however, to think about something else.

Needing a distraction, Y/N stood up, leaning heavily on the wall behind her. She tentatively put weight on her injured leg, deemed the pain bearable, and stepped forward.

Things had calmed down since the nichevo'ya attack. Many of the wounded were sleeping, their family or friends sitting around them. It was the kind of quiet that only came the night after an attack - when everyone was mourning their losses and planning the next move.

Y/N walked through the tunnels, passing by bodies lying against the walls, covered in sheets. She tried not to look at them.

David was quietly folding up numerous blankets, adding them to an ever decreasing pile as people grabbed one.

"Have you seen Nikolai?" Y/N asked, walking up to him.

"He went to the chapel," David said, turning and giving her a quick, not entirely convincing, smile.

Y/N put a hand on his arm. "Are you ok?"

"Of course," David replied, nodding.

Sensing that he didn't want to talk - Y/N couldn't blame him - she squeezed his arm and stepped away, heading down the tunnels to the chapel.

She had a rough memory of where the chapel was. After a few wrong turns, and pausing multiple times as her leg protested being used too much, Y/N found the side tunnel that led to the chapel.

As she stepped in, she saw Nikolai, staring at the alter. He wasn’t as formal as he had been earlier - he’d lost the military blazer and the cravat. Instead, he’d rolled up his shirt sleeves to his elbows and undone his waistcoat.

He looked more like Sturmhond than he did Nikolai Lanstov. Or maybe he just looked like Nikolai.

“Penny for the thoughts?”

Nikolai jumped slightly but, as he turned, his anxiety dissapted, a smile appearing on his face. "Are my thoughts only worth a penny? I'm disappointed."

Y/N smiled back. She limped over to him, her leg throbbing as she did so.

Nikolai's smile faded as he noticed her leg, concern clouding his eyes. "What happened?"

"Nichevo'ya," Y/N replied, sitting down a pew next to him. "It's fine." She turned her head, taking in his haggard appearance, the grief and exhaustion clear on his face. "How are you?"

Nikolai shrugged. "Don't know."

Y/N's leg brushed against his as she shifted closer. She hesitated for a second before reaching out and put her hand over his. Nikolai turned his hand, threading his fingers through hers, gripping tightly.

"I tried to sleep," he said quietly. "But it's haunting my dreams."

"I understand," Y/N stroked his hand with her thumb, "I'm thinking too much to sleep. I don't just my thoughts after a certain hour, though."

“But you’re still thinking it,” Nikolai said gently, turning his head to face her. “It’s evidently troubling you.”

She sighed, running the pad of her right thumb along her middle finger. “I just feel unimportant,” she said softly.

“Why’s that?”

“Lack of self confidence?”

Nikolai chuckled. He put a hand on her knee and squeezed it gently, trying to mind her injury. “How’s the leg?”

“Honestly?”

“Always.”

“It’s killing me. It’s killing one of the reasons I can’t sleep.”

“What’s the other? Your thoughts?”

“It’s always the thoughts,” Y/N replied, focusing her gaze upon the soup in her bowl, instead of Nikolai. “No one ever talks about how pathetic being an Inferni is.”

“We’ll, as someone who isn’t Grisha,” Nikolai began, “I think Inferni are rather fabulous.”

“Because we make things go boom?”

“Exactly.” Nikolai grinned at her, his teeth shining. “I love it when you quote me.”

Y/N shoved him lightly, smiling as he giggled. “Stop it.”

“Seriously, though,” Nikolai said, his voice quiet. “What’s going on in that head of yours? Because this Inferni thing is clearly only the beginning.”

Y/N shrugged as she took a sip of her soup, for she, herself, didn’t truly know. “I know I shouldn’t compare, but it’s hard not to. When I look at Tamar or David, I feel a stab of jealousy and desire. Tamar can control people’s hearts and David can make and bend metal and objects to his will. They have so much potential. All I can do is make fire and, even then, I need a spark to start it. I can’t even make my own fire.”

Silence followed her words. Y/N sighed softly, shifting in the pew. Nikolai was quiet, clearly contemplating what she’d said.

“I understand,” he eventually said. “Whilst it’s different, I relate through Sturmhond.”

“How?” Y/N asked, curious, not judging.

“Well, as Sturmhond I can control things, help people… do whatever I want. But as Prince Nikolai, I am limited to doing very little. Even now, as king, I will probably be limited even more. I doubt I’ll be able to do anything. There’s a desire to do more and feel more accomplished than you do.”

Y/N nodded. “Earlier, with the nichevo'ya… I couldn’t do anything. Adrik and Nadia are blasting them back, David is locking doors behind us and I’m just running away, unable to even make a flame because I had no spark.”

“Tamar couldn’t do anything either.”

“She had her axes.”

“Good point.”

“I know.” Y/N smiled at Nikolai. She sighed. “This is why I don’t trust my thoughts. Because, usually, I would go “Tamar didn’t do anything either” and move on. But I keep searching for the negatives.”

Nikolai nodded. He ran a hand through his hair, fighting the urge to yawn. “It’s hard not to after everything that happened.”

“I just want to sleep,” Y/N whispered. “And wake up in however long I get and start again.”

“You know, I couldn’t sleep either,” Nikolai said. He nudged Y/N’s shoulder. “We should lie down beside one smother and every time one of us has a bad thought, we talk our way out of to the other.”

“Is that… allowed?”

“No one will dare say anything. Besides, Alina and I have an arrangement.”

“Look at me,” Y/N muttered, “the King’s mistress.”

“Oh, shush," Nikolai said, hitting her arm gently. He paused. "I am sorry I didn't tell you before it happened."

"It's the politics of being royalty," Y/N shrugged, "it's not any of my business."

Y/N tried, and failed, to stifle a yawn. She put her hand over her mouth, unable to stop the noise escaping her mouth.

Nikolai laughed, throwing his head back. "Alright, come on you."

"What - why?"

"We're going to bed."

Y/N begrudgingly took Nikolai's hand and let him pull her to her feet. He wrapped a hand around her waist, holding her body close to his. Y/N was grateful for the support, especially as her leg buckled the first time she put weight on it.

She could feel the warmth of Nikolai's body, even through her jacket. Y/N put her hand around his torso, resting her head against his shoulder.

They slowly walked down the tunnels until they found an empty camp bed, a pile of cushions and blankets folded neatly on top.

Nikolai guided Y/N to the bed. She sat down on it and, with Nikolai's help, lifted her leg up on to it. Y/N shuffled over until she was pressed up against the wall, leaving room for Nikolai.

He laid down beside her, the side of his body pressing against hers. They were a right pair, lying on a tiny camp bed in a tunnel. But, already, Y/N felt safer.

“There’s another reason I can’t sleep,” Y/N said softly, her fingers dancing over the buttons of her shirt. She hesitated, searching for the right words.

“Go on,” Nikolai prompted gently. “I won’t judge.”

“I’m terrified,” Y/N whispered. She exhaled slowly, trying to keep her heart calm. “I’m terrified the nichevo'ya will reach us down here. Every shadow, every noise... I keep thinking they've somehow made their way down here."

Nikolai's hand brushed against hers. Y/N unfolded her fingers from her palm and Nikolai linked his fingers with hers, squeezing gently.

"As much as I would love to say they won't find us," NIkolai said softly, "I can't."

"I know."

"But I can promise you that, no matter what happens, I'll look out for you." Nikolai turned his head, his gaze flittering across her face, settling on her eyes. "I know you can handle yourself, more so than I can... but I'll be by your side, I promise."

Y/N gave him a soft smile. "I know. The same thing goes to you, moi tsar."

Nikolai rolled his eyes, but he began to laugh. "Shut up," he said, gently nudging her with his shoulder.

With a sigh, Y/N snuggled down into Nikolai's side, still holding his hand tightly. "Just speaking the truth."

"If you're calling me moi tsar, you need to start calling Alina moya tsaritsa." Nikolai frowned. "That sounds weird. Maybe don't do that." He paused, waiting for Y/N to reply. "Y/N?"

He looked down and stilled. Y/N's eyes were closed and her breathing had evened out. Nikolai pressed his lips together, a smile pulling at the edges as he watched Y/N for a moment. Her chest rising and falling was a reassuring sight - reminding him that she was still alive and by his side.

Nikolai breathed out, letting his body relax as he did so. He stole one more glance at Y/N, taking in her peaceful expression, and closed his own eyes, willing the twenty minutes it usually took him to fall asleep to pass quickly.

He had things to dream about.

#nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov x female reader #shadow and bone fic #shadow and bone #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone x reader #fic #fanfic #nikolai lantsov imagine