#my writing is usually very grounded in descriptions

[sunboki]

— ENDLESS WINTER. a Christopher Bahng fiction

Christopher Bahng x f. reader

TROPE. Beast! au, Mage! au, enemies to lovers (she wants to kill him), marriage au, angst

WARNINGS. violence, kidnapping, mention of a past war, descriptions of murder, reader is injured, hyunjin is a bit of a pain, hinted minsung (hehe), blood, kissing (dubcon), cursing

WORD COUNT. 12k words

AUG'S NOTES. if there’s ever been a more spontaneous fic in history it would be this… every sentence is write is purely self indulgent…. (genuinely a written version of the stories i make in my head while laying in bed)

SYNOPSIS. As heiress of the Magus, otherwise, Mage Clan, you find your position ripped from your fingertips when the Beast Clan conducts a raid. Left the only survivor, you make it your priory to stay alive in a ravaged Kingdom. That is, before you’re captured.

alternatively :

Starvation becomes the least of your problems when you meet King Bahng.

Hiding in the kitchen’s cupboard was definitely not your intention.

Neither was the Kingdom getting raided by the Beast Clan or being the (presumably) lone survivor in the castle, but fate would have its way, whether you liked it or not — this one just a bit more severe than usual.

Your mother once told you of the Beast Clan, of their ferocity and inability to handle things diplomatically. In her opinion, Beast were barely able to be considered Human.

Well, these words came after the Mage-Beast War; a grueling, disgustingly brutal dispute that caused what was referred to as the “Endless Winter”, a curse put upon the nation by a Magus overseer bidding every day of every year with, well, “endless winter”.

She told you how the ground used to be a wondrous green. Soft beneath your fingertips like feathers. Now, blankets of snow stretched as far as the eye could see, killing off any remaining expanse of foliage.

Although years had passed since then, your Kingdom was still recovering, still navigating importing routes in order to supply necessary goods.

Yet, everything was rapidly adapting, whether that was the snow-shoe rabbits roaming your vast tundra or the unexpected growth of fur on the bottom of the horse’s hooves.

Growing, learning.

Magus, though a lineage of magic practitioners, had begun to dull over the centuries. There was no need to learn with peace eminent, and the more aged those wielding supernatural abilities became, the less said abilities progressed into your generations.

However, Magus is the hearth of your Kingdom, and for as long as you live, the title shall reign supreme.

A title that, used by enemies and allies alike, had modernized from its ancient form Magus, to Mage.

Dinner held in the customary hall began that night, seat upon seat homing each member of the family adorned in their extravagant clothing.

Your father occupied the upmost chair, his plate stacked full of greasy lamb and pork bones. You, on the other hand, had had your fill chatting the cook’s ear off, slipping sweet potato wedges here and there as you talked.

Ms. Maewether was her name, a sad soul who carried her love in her cherished dishes. A love reserved for her late husband, a Beast himself, who unfortunately passed in The War.

Back then you asked her questions to the moon, about what they looked like specifically — if they really had eight inch claws like all the other children gossiped, if they could feel.

The last one was important, because everything Ms. Maewether told you you believed without a doubt, and the number one thing she pressed was that Beasts can feel, so very deeply. Just like humans.

The War changed that, and tension rose tenfold, especially as each Kingdom recovered from their countless casualties.

Luckily, your life had been peaceful, having been born young enough you could hardly remember.

Had been peaceful.

A scream from outside redirects the table’s conversation, relatives and siblings alike turning their head to gaze out the window.

Your blood runs cold.

Beasts, left and right, are slaughtering. Their clothing stained in blood that certainly isn’t their own, blades in clutch.

Immediately, panic ensues. People are trampling over each other to get out, disregarding every instinct but to stay alive. It’s chaos.

Dodging flailing bodies, you anchor yourself in a secluded cupboard below the countertops, shrinking as close to the wall as possible.

A few moments after everyone evacuates the Dining Hall do you hear cries. Yelling, gargled sounds. You cringe back imagining, stifling your breathing as much as possible.

Suddenly, a thought comes to mind, a thought that might just be responsible for saving your life.

Smell.

Ms. Maewether warned you a Beast’s smell is like no other, like a dogs. Twenty times as heightened as a persons.

So slowly, silently, you fish your hand into the small bit of darkness in front of you, locating a small bottle of cooking grease you wince upon finding — forcing the awful smelling concoction over your body, masking your scent.

Right after sitting down the container does the door creak open, heavy footsteps belonging to none other than a Beast. You can hear it in their sniffing, the clicking of their claws. Chills scatter your arms.

Another enters as the second door creaks, muttering something incomprehensible to its companion. At this point you’re pressed to the other side of the cupboard, both hands covering your mouth.

Your heart thunders in your chest, beating unbearably loud the longer you huddle.

Walking past where you lie, a Beast stops, body ducking down close enough you can hear its labored panting. You wait, waiting for the door to be flung open and for your death to await.

It doesn’t. And you thank whomever above for the echo of its presence fading away into the distance, barely relaxing against the highly uncomfortable hiding spot.

Instead, a blood curdling screech rips through the atmosphere, comparably close to where you hide. Abruptly, it stops, the thump of a body against the floor making you staunch the nausea building like bile in your throat.

It takes three days for you to finally peer out of the cupboard, the entirety of the Kingdom completely void of a soul.

Taking your first few steps around do you notice a woman, obviously slain by the puddle of blood surrounding her and the putrid stench. Her mouth hangs open—horror-stricken, frozen in place. You vomit in the sink.

For about a week do you roam the murder-house of a castle, finding purchase in a non-blood-bathed room and the many, thought to be endless amount of food.

You won’t leave, simple.

As long as the Beast Clan believes they’ve killed everyone, you’re safe.

That reminder was assuring, until your food supply dropped exponentially and a new problem situated itself on your platter.

Worst case scenario you die of starvation, the likelihood high if you stay here. Solution? Hunting.

Granted, you’re not the most skillful hunter, but you’re also not horrendous with a bow. Except, it’s not your aiming abilities you stress, it’s the chance someone sees you, the enemy sees you.

Four weeks in and you’re left with no other choice than to bundle yourself in layers upon layers of clothing and heed the feeble weaponry available.

Blizzard frost permeates your vision, wobbling steps making your hunger evident the more you roam. A horse would’ve been effortlessly useful, but selling yourself into that fantasy had been futile upon realizing they either took or killed all escapades.

A hare catches your eye, pale fur barely divisible from the terrain below. Carefully, you crouch down, elbow stretching the arrow back as far as possible whilst maintaining a solid grip. Steady. Steady.

Shoot!

The arrow flies, puncturing the animal in its chest enough to where it thankfully doesn’t suffer, flopping over rather pathetically instead.

However, your success is short-lived.

Stalking forward to snatch the creature quickly, a shadow looming overhead halts your footsteps. Behind you.

Before you can think to run, you wind back, meager arrow in hand providing little defense against the attacker.

First thing you take in is how huge they are. At least six feet tall if not taller, brilliantly ruby eyes revealing its true identity.

Beast.

With ease the man has your efforts pinned, curiousity overflowing as the animal looks at you. Yet, he doesn’t look like an animal, and apart from those eyes of his, no other factors would’ve revealed him to you but that.

This Beast has a fox-like face. A younger stature and smaller, slanted features.

“Hyung, what is this?” He asks, lifting your petrified frame like you were the rabbit you’d killed earlier.

His older counterpart glances over, and any hope of getting released plummets upon those wild crimson hues focusing in on you—knowledgeable as to what you were.

The cooking grease had long worn off, and your identity was likely as apparent as can be.

Mage.

Older Beast easily roaming through the snow, his fingers tangle into your hair, drawing out a cry when he jerks his hand up, forcing your gaze to meet his through the searing sting of your scalp. The younger grimaces.

His long, nearly white hair is tied into a ponytail, sharp cheekbones and calculating stare beyond intimidating. Beneath his left eye you note a small, distinct mole.

“One remained, huh.”

It’s a fever dream walking into the Kingdom that, compared to yours, looks positively flourishing with life. Beasts of all kinds roam about, carrying on with their daily lives, oblivious to the winds of death they’ve swept your way.

Everything in your body feels as if it’s shutting down, unable to feel the sensation of your legs as you trudge forward, the younger, much kinder Beast ensuring you kept pace.

Freezing temperatures carry on the longer snow falls, gluing strands of hair to your forehead, blanketing your lashes while your nose runs incessantly.

In front of you now lies the castle, far grander than you could’ve ever imagined. Twin spires peek above the low-hanging clouds, stone columns towering above.

From your distance you spot two knights positioned on either side of the entryway, large armored helmets with hawk feathers adorning the ridges.

One knight stops your ascent, the light-haired man rolling his eyes profusely.

“Minho, this is important.”

“Important enough you’re bringing a Mage into the Kingdom?”

His voice smooth as honey, he sports a dominant tone when speaking. Stare observant, he watches the other Beast’s expressions with uncanny precision.

“Because if you haven’t noticed Hyunjin,” He leans forward a bit, whispering. “You have the entire Kingdom’s attention.”

At this, either of the Beasts who escorted you turn around, and upon doing so are met with hundreds, if not thousands of eyes boring into their soul. Whether it’s younger Beasts or aged soldiers, those heinous vermillion orbs seem to see through you.

You gulp.

“C’mon,” Hyunjin harshly beckons, nudging you forward through the gates with the younger quick on his tail.

Every color in the Palace is monochromatically grey, although strikes of royal blue reside in large drapes hung from perched balconies.

Similar guards to those outside sift throughout the room, familiar hawk feathers litter everywhere in sight, paving paths to the core of the room where a throne sits.

Pointed edges flank either side of the massive chair, the ocean blue rug underneath reflecting up and out of the ceiling — a glass design stretching wide across the throne room, emphasizing the dusky weather outside.

According to the younger Beast whose title you learned as Jeongin, the King was currently participating in a hunt with Changbin (the lead hunter of the Palace), so after hasty appreciation of the sheer volume of this breathtaking castle, you’re forced toward the dungeons.

Jeongin wears a pitying frown, promising to return with some food to your chambers in the case the King doesn’t arrive for a while.

At least someone in this Kingdom doesn’t insist you’re beheaded.

“Finally, somebody else is here.”

A voice erupting from the darkening depths to your right make you jump, chained wrists clanging abruptly. Through minimal lighting of the burning lamps hastened upon the walls, you make out the silhouette of a man, face bunching in a sweet manner when he smiles.

Unusually, his hands aren’t chained.

“What’re you in here for?” You begin, gaze narrowed in confusion. The chubby-cheeked stranger smiles haphazardly.

“I would ask you the same thing. I’m the King’s Advisor, he just gets tired of me and puts me in here sometimes,” Your chamber-mate sighs, and once you take in what he professed, the urge to laugh becomes too strong to control.

Laughing for the first time in quite a while is sort of relieving, especially when this new acquaintance of yours begins whining his dismay, aimlessly trying to hush your giggles.

Red eyes. You can see them blinking up at you, gleaming when he grins his pointed teeth.

Quickly pausing, you wait in horror as he gradually sniffs in.

Your stomach sinks.

“Wait… You’re a Mag—“

His phrase is cut off by a loud ringing noise, a familiar echo of keys tunneling down the dungeons stairwell.

Another stranger unlocks the door. He’s burly, with curly hair in disarray. Cuffs of animal fur wraps around defined biceps, his top a tight-fitted arrangement of fur and woven leather paired with small iron spikes studding the shoulder lining.

A scar passes down the corner of his lip, long since healed but remaining faded.

“C’mere,” He ushers, voice gruff and rumbling when he unlocks your shackles, big hand pushing you forward up the stairs.

If anybody here had pure Beast in their bloodline, it would be this man. His demeanor is rough, but his touch on your back is surprisingly gentle whilst guiding you upward.

Again you’re granted with the wondrous sight of the Throne Room in all its historic glory, although your gaze directed at the floor keeps you ignorant to so many heads bowed, so many voices cast to silence upon the click of footsteps approaching.

And when you look up, you meet strikingly blue eyes—perhaps a genetic mutation of a sort.

They’re stunning, enrapturing almost, and you find the need to break eye contact immediate, more dire than normal while staring down at you.

Plump, full lips and perfectly sculpted facial features seem that of a Greek god’s, too ethereal to exist in your reality. A glittering, silver crown sits stark atop a black nest of hair.

Either arm rests on the sides of the throne, and you swore you’d never seen someone look so, King-like. That, and the massive cape of wolf-skin draped over his back.

A devil, dressed as an angel.

“Your Highness, this Mage was found near the L/N Kingdom by Hwang Hyunjin and Yang Jeongin while scouting the territory.” A palace-woman announces, the same guard who lingered outside, Minho, standing to your side.

Your blood boils, disregarding every ounce of amazement once inhabited.

It’s him. The man responsible for the demise of loved ones you couldn’t count on all of your fingers and toes.

Minho, as if sensing your frothing rage, mutters through his helmet a staggered warning—remaining upright and unmoving at attention.

“Do not move and do not look into his eyes unless you’re asking for death.”

Your patience dissipates, lip twitching involuntarily.

You can’t remember the last time you were genuinely angry. You were happy, surrounded by people you loved.

Those people weren’t here now, they were killed.

“You murderer! You’re a—“ Your attempt at lashing out at the King stalled when Minho kicks the crevice between your knees, forcing you down on the carpet below.

���Monster! A bloody— fucking— Monster!”

Palace representatives gasp their bewilderment, some beckoning you away to the dungeons, others urging Minho to end you right here and now.

It wouldn’t matter, would it?

The King’s raised hand stalls the accusations, his familiar clicking footsteps nearing closer till he stands before you.

Shifting down into a squat, the man tips your chin up to meet cerulean again, his head slightly tilted to the side.

“Don’t get it mixed up little one,” He murmurs, the pad of his thumb controlling your movement.

“I did not kill your family. Your family killed themselves.”

Fist sharply winding around for a punch, he catches it before you can even register your predicament, iron grip strong enough you fear he might just snap your wrist in half.

“And I wouldn’t recommend fighting back, otherwise I can’t guarantee your safety.”

Concluding his threat the further he bends your wrist, you whine, face scrunching from the pain until he finally stops, amusedly surveying your expression.

Denying your own enraged shaking, you suck your teeth, focus vehemently pinned onto him.

“Why would you care about my safety?” You snarl, trying to wriggle his hold off to no avail.

“Because,” The King cocks his brows. “I like you.”

About to spit another word, he interrupts you, index tracing the veins of your arm.

“Plus, I could break you any time I wanted, Mage. So behave.”

You shiver.

Your second day and you feel as if you’re officially going insane.

The only person tolerable here is Jeongin, that chamber guard whose name you don’t know, and Felix, the castles cook. You barely see the King, and even when he’s present he’s usually quartered in his study.

What he does there remains unknown, information learned in the mere form of startled maids leaving the room and gossip among those wandering the Kingdom.

“Do you know what he does?”

Felix looks up from the dish he was laying in front of you, wispy blond locks bouncing with the movement.

“Does what?” He piques, ridding a stray piece of hair clinging to your sleeve.

“The King, what does he do all day long?”

One thing about Felix you love, his honesty. Regardless of if most would tell a quick fib and flee, Felix, although occasionally working around a topic, takes the time to actually explain things to you.

Allows you to learn more of the place you’re going to have to call home.

“Hm..” He pulls a chair from your right to drop into, and for a moment, you see Ms. Maewether in that smile of his. Your heart aches.

“Chris— I mean, King Bahng is always busy. He plans trade agreements, oversees the hunts, and basically keeps this castle alive.”

Chris?

“Who’s Chris?”

Felix nearly squeaks, burying his head in his hands. Evidently, you weren’t supposed to hear that part, but an eagerness to know more about this solitary King kept your hesitance at bay.

“That’s his name. Christopher Bahng, but you’re not allowed to call him that and not allowed to tell anyone about us having this conversa-“

“Tell who?”

You quite literally almost fall backwards in your seat, failing to anticipate the pair of hands placed on Felix’s shoulders.

A pair of hands, followed by a pair of ocean blue eyes, boring right into you and the horrified boy in front of you.

King Bahng. In the flesh.

“Oh.. Hey Chri— Hello Your Highness.”

Again he corrects. These two must know each other.

“Tell who, Felix?” He speaks, tone nothing short of teasing—though the boy looks just as startled, practically sweating through his clothing.

Still adorning that flanking wolf-cape of his, his dark hair is slightly messy, expression distorted curiously.

You hate him to admit, but King Bahng is horribly attractive.

“Nothing! Nothing at all, Your Highness,” Felix chirps, fixing you with a ‘Don’t say a word’ glare you cease to argue with.

Rising up from your seat quickly as if you had any duties in this Kingdom to tend to, you find yourself stalling.

You have so many questions. …And the overwhelming urge to slap him across the face.

You’ve received a fair warning on the latter.

“I’ll be off now, Your Highness.”

The last words come out involuntary, used to referring to your own father this way. It made you sick to know you regarded his murderer the same.

And though the King didn’t stand extremely tall (considering how young Beasts were already your height), his hulking stature felt as if it could swallow you whole, pointed canines flashing when he smiled, sending your head reeling.

Pleased.

King Bahng was pleased hearing something nonthreatening come out of your mouth.

Vile.

Yet, you simply curtsied and hurried off, ceasing to notice the immediate growl Felix directed in the King’s direction.

“Good lord, I know she smells good but you’re practically undressing her with your eyes,” The freckled boy grumbles, returned with an uninterested expression from his friend.

Before the King can head off to whatever meeting he has planned, however, he spins on his heel.

“Have you consulted Seungmin about the scent-blocking salve?”

“Possessive, are we?”

His glare shuts the cook up immediately.

“If there is one Mage left, it’s mine. And since she’s the survivor, she’s mine.”

Yeah, he’s not beating the possessive allegations. But if he’s going to gain your trust, and eventually, after much thought, become mates, he’s keeping every other Beast in the Kingdom at a distance from you at all times.

“Jeongin will report when it’s completed. And Chris?”

“Hm?”

“Don’t expect her to warm up to you.”

King Bahng hums.

“I don’t.”

And with that, Felix follows your exit, leaving the King to his own devices, your nectar-sweet smell lingering in his nose.

“If I stare at the same wall for hours and hours, shouldn’t it break by now?”

“You’re a Mage, not telekinetic,” Han replies, repetitively scanning over a piece of parchment assumed to be a guest list.

In the midst of your incessant boredom, you found yourself following the King’s Advisor around, peering over his shoulder at the endless list of haughty names written in languid ink strokes. 

Amongst them, you ceased to find your father’s name. You knew it wouldn’t be there, but somehow, you wished if you blinked enough it would magically appear. 

King L/N, written in that same, cursive font. 

Rounding a corner, you conclude if there’s anyone you avoid more than King Bahng (a.k.a Chris), it was Hyunjin. That man was a serpent in a Beast’s body.

Catching sight of his dreaded ponytail, you hastily retrace your steps, hiding behind a massive doorframe while Han stares at you as if you’re a rodent scurrying at his shoes.

“He won’t bite y’know.”

“If only you would’ve been there when he first found me,” You whisper angrily, practically clawing at the wood desperately till he leaches you out.

Leaching enough, in fact, that you end up right in Hyunjin’s line of sight, who surveys you up and down with a cocked brow to the point you’re sure steam is billowing from your ears. 

Mocking. Ruby-red, mocking eyes.

He does bite. He sinks his teeth into the flesh and tears. 

You won’t bleed without biting back. 

Han’s iron grip tightens on your arm as slowly, oh so slowly, Hyunjin walks closer. 

The strategist prowls, edging right up in your face—noses a thread-width apart.  

His glower sets your fury alight, lips curled in a deriding notion.

“No need to glare, wouldn’t want wrinkles ruining that face of yours.”

“No need to get so close unless you plan to kiss me, mutt.”

Though, just as Hyunjin preapres to lunge, a big hand holds him back, animal fur cuffs indicating it isn’t the King who stepped in.

The man who had fetched you from the chambers earlier divided either of you. Shorter, but evidently stronger. 

“Control yourselves, both of you. For as long as she stays in the Kingdom, she’s The King’s property—“

“I am no one’s property,” You snarl, and the guard turns.

Basked in clear lighting, you can finally see him. Honing dark brown hair hanging above his eyebrows, the same scar resides by his mouth, though, his eyes are much kinder than you expected.

Taking a slow inhale, he reads your conflicted expression like an ornate mirror.

“One mage in the Kingdom of Beasts? Sorry to break it to you, but yes, you are his property. So as long as she’s here, nobody lays a finger on her, understood?”

Glancing to each person, either of them ease their apprehension, the bewildered Jisung next to you stifling a breath, Hyunjin rolling his eyes with a loud huff.

Baiting seconds pass, and in that period of time do you realize you never caught his name. Specifically, the guard’s name.

“Excuse m-“

“Seo Changbin,” Han interjects. “His name is Seo Changbin.”

Ah. Right.

Now on the roster of least-likely to kill you, Jeongin, Changbin, Felix, and Han.

Filled with a need to evade, you stand merely as a spectator as each horridly red hue snaps to stare at you, your heart spiking an alarming rate. 

The King’s Advisor’s fingers tighten to the point you’re sure he’s blocking blood flow.   

“You need to leave. Jisung, get in contact with Seungmin and see when the salve is done,” Changbin instructs, already shoving Hyunjin away.

Salve. What salve?

Failing to give you any explanation, you’re dragged off, boisterously complaining before the highly annoyed man abruptly pauses, finger nudging your forehead irritably.  

“You smell.”

Then he leaves, and you’re left to wonder if you’re still in primary school or the Kingdom of Beasts.

You smell? What’s that supposed to mean?

First thing in the morning, you’re torn from your slumber with a blazing sun scorching your eyes.

Your canopy beds silken drapes doing little to block the attack, you whine to an apologetic Jisung who merely sighs in return.

“Sorry sleeping beauty, but we have an appointment to attend this morning. Can you handle getting dressed on your own?”

You roll your eyes, groggily pulling yourself upright. “I was an heiress, not helpless.” 

To which he cracks a miniature grin and slips out the door, allowing you to hurriedly strip off your chemise and messily arrange your stays and petticoats.

Out of all things you’d been deprived of, a part of the L/N Clan unable to be divided was your garments.  

Somewhere, in the midst of fabric and citrus scented soap, you swear you can still smell bits and pieces of home.

What this appointment entailed you failed to ask, gingerly hustled down winding hallways barely illuminated with sunlight. 

The Kings Advisor expertly winds further and further down, georgian architecture littered in symmetrical golden portraits and decorum, casement glass windows twinkling as you walked past. 

Having reached a dead end, you’re pleasantly surprised to watch Han jar a brass doorknob open, paving a breathtaking view of the garden ahead. 

Garden had to be an understatement. This amount of foliage was nothing short of a forest. 

Flowers of all kind surround your walk to a shrouded greenhouse, abnormally brick relative to it’s stone-castle counterpart. Its walls are overgrown in slithering vines, door nearly invisible without proper inspection.

Jisung, having noticed your amazed expression, chuckles.

Granted, it’s been years since you’d seen any form of green vegetation, your astonishment felt justified. 

“We’ve arrived.”

Oh how you wish to stay here forever. Not captive by the Beast Clan, no, but in this garden, hidden.

And if the last door took effort to pry open, this was a new challenge entirely. Through thickets of dense hedge and tangled branches, Jisung had to quite literally ram himself into the chittering wood for entry.

“Knock next time would you?” A voice projects from inside, belonging to a man clad in rounded spectacles, a slightly hooked nose, and cleanly hair parted to the side. 

The Kings Advisor, apparently having known him, beams his prize-winning smile upon seeing the man.

“Seungminnnn—“ Han drawls out, excitedly waddling over to wrap him in a crushing hug. Stiffly, Seungmin pats his back, an action you fondly watch from afar. 

“Ah!” The more ebullient of the two springs up, turning to you. “This is Seungmin, he runs the apothecary here.” 

Nodding stiffly, Seungmin ushers you to one of the many mahogany chairs circling a gateleg table; a vase—likely jade with its pale green hue—filled with indigo hydrangea presides in the center.

“And,” Han’s outburst cuts off your awe. “He’s practically my little brother.”

Now you’re in awe again, but for a different reason. And by the evident frown on Seungmin’s face, he can tell.

“Shocking, right?”

Yes, shocking for certain.

Though, before you can reply, Han slaps his hands on either of the man’s shoulders, expression transformed into one of seriousness. 

“About time I left then, yeah?” Was spoken while his form hurriedly retreated out the door, leaving you with more questions than answers to what just occurred.

“..He forgot something again.”

Biting back your laugh, you finally take a seat, given ample time as Seungmin shuffles off to the side to acknowledge your everything to its fullest extent. 

Matching the plant-infested interior, verdant drawers scatter the corners, a lone, looming medicinal cabinet left ajar as the chemist poured over a variety of assorted concoctions. 

Air stained with a damp smell of earth, you notice, much to your curiosity, the longevity of such a place.

This apothecary, though inside the castle, feels like an entirely new settlement of its own. An establishment existing before the war, rebuilt (inefficiently) enough to where it was only required to stand stable.

From first sighting you’d grown an attachment to it, but this newfound understanding, these newfound details setting the apothecary apart from your predicament let you imagine yourself anywhere else, back to a nostalgia you longed for.

A short term fix.

“This.” You’re handed a phial from overhead. It’s a slightly green substance, thicker in texture that rests heavy in your hand. “Is for you.”

Slipping across from you, he surveys your analyzing, arms crossed over a deep brown waistcoat.

“And this is..?” You inquire, looking up from the cork-sealed glass.

“A salve. You had better not waste it, material is low as is and I’ve been waiting years for this winter to end already.”

Well that didn’t answer your question. You’ve heard conversation about a specific salve for days on end, but no genuine explanation caved in—

‘I’ve been waiting years for this winter to end already.’

Repeatedly mulling over the words, you can practically feel your heart palpitating, head beginning to spin. 

..End already? The endless winter.. ending?

“So you’re saying,” You murmur, placing down this special salve in order to truly regard him.

“There’s a way to end the Endless Winter?”

His brows crease critically, seemingly sarcastic.

“There’s an end to everything sweetheart. Life, death. Start, finish. War,” He meets your eyes with a conniving grin, a face you hadn’t seen on the man before.

“Peace.”

Automatically, you roll your eyes. 

Peace? Peace when there was no peace left to be made, no kingdom remaining to make peace with?

“And how do you think the nonexistent Mage will make peace with Beasts?”

Seungmin grins.

“Well there is a Mage left,” He scornfully states, flicking your forehead whilst you palm the sting, frown evident. 

“And as far as making peace goes, marriage.”

Marriage. 

What.

“Wait- so you’re telling me big bad King Bahng could’ve just hooked up with a Mage and called it a day and everything would be fine?”

Seungmin clears his throat.

“One, Bahng doesn’t ‘hook up’. Two, it’s not as easy as that.”

Of course it’s not as easy as that. Why would it be?

You wish to claw your eyes out of your head, anticipating his explanation. 

“Because if you weren’t aware before, marriage ties between Mage and Beast are very difficult to establish. Bahng is picky on everything, and even pickier when it comes to mates.”

But before you can argue there were thousands of suitors roaming the L/N Kingdom for him to pick from, Seungmin interrupts. 

“Plus, if anyone else were King I’m sure we would’ve had peace decades ago. You’re lucky you’re in the castle right now, otherwise you would be eaten alive.”

Your face scrunching worriedly, he rakes an exasperated hand through his hair, plopping down on the vanity’s chair.

“Your scent.”

Again, you’re reminded of Han’s ‘you smell’ comment. Why is it showing up a second time?

He groans frustratedly, wordlessly praying you understand.

You don’t.

“Mage have specific scents. You can’t smell it since you’re not Beast. But let me tell you, you smell fucking delightful.”

Oh.

That’s what he meant by eaten alive, and the entire ‘you smell’ conundrum.

Seungmin, rather entertained with the shock written on your face, shrugs his shoulders, nonplussed by the crassness of his earlier statement.

“Now you get the use of the salve, right? And why you’re not allowed to leave the castle?” 

Your mouth feels dry of response, beckoned toward the exit without so much as a peep passing through your lips.

However, right as the you’re halfway gone, he stops you, brows cocked.

“Do us all a favor and marry him, will you?”

And like that, the apothecary’s door thumps closed behind you.

If only the “him” he was referring to wasn’t King Bahng, you might’ve agreed.

Marriage in the L/N Kingdom had been a sacred event.

An event you’d been prepared for since childhood, fed daydreams of a day you would be married to a prince-like man with perfect features and a perfect personality, every element fabricated from a young age.

Truly, you loved it. Loved visualizing a life shared with your loved one, whoever that man would be.

Little did you know he might just be King of the Beast Clan.

No. You refused. Marrying a murderer, the murderer of your family, was the last thing you would oblige to. 

He sent the command, he led the attack, and you’d rather die than give him the satisfaction of marriage.

Although, one problem. Similar to life back at the L/N Kingdom, supplies only lasted for some time before shipments became low, and pretty soon (according to Seungmin) the salve you were given would run dry. 

Meaning, your meager chance of protection lay completely exposed, susceptible to any Beast daring enough to try something.

Two sides of a coin remained. Heads, you marry the murderer of a King and spring returns, or tails, you abstain and are eventually left vulnerable.

You’ve always been the person to confront a difficulty head-on, but, in this case, a different, defensive approach crossed your mind.

Run away. 

Despite Seungmin’s sensible reminder to not leave the castle, what other option sounded suitable? 

Die physically or mentally, pick your poison. 

Or maybe, never drink the poison in the first place. Evade.

Three days have passed since you received the salve, and after applying it behind your ears and between your elbows at dawn, you were free to do as you pleased—within the castle walls. 

Yet, tomorrow’s dawn would be divergent. Tomorrow, you would be days away from the Beast Clan. 

Sneakily roaming around, you managed to find certain outlets to your disposal. Nearby the chambers you’d been kept in was a moth eaten, hooded cloak seemingly unworn for quite awhile. Ideal for an anonymous escape.

Furthermore, amongst the colloquy during a dinner with Changbin and Felix in the Great Hall, you distinctly recall overhearing information about the stables.

If you were to flee, you needed a horse, and thanks to the guard, you knew right where to find one.

Unable to sleep the night before, your dry eyes blink through the dense darkness, sweeping the candlestick from your side table for a minimal source of vision.

Lathering a copious amount of salve all over your skin, you slip down the winding stairwell, grateful for the shadowed moonlight gazing down upon the Throne Room as you venture.

Bingo. There’s the cloak.

Sweeping the fabric over your shoulders, you slip the hood over your head, creeping down the steep steps leading into a surrounding ward.

On your left, across the butcher’s vendors. 

Blindly searching, the whinny of a mare alerts your close distance, carefully winding through lead ropes and linked fences to the first horse in sight. 

You have to be fast, the sun will rise at any moment it pleases, and it’s impertinent you’re gone by then.

Hoisting a mere saddle pad over the back, you deem the saddle too noisy, slipping the reins overheard and adjusting their length accordingly. 

Jogging forwards, you’re brisk to gain a running leap atop the horse prior to the thunder of hooves charging forward.

Closer to the gatehouse you near, a luckily open drawbridge allowing easy passage across. 

Faster, faster. You can’t afford to slow down. Daylight is beginning to peer above the horizon, warming your back with rays of sunlight amongst a snowy landscape.

And when the kingdom wakes up, it’ll be as if you were never there. 

But, an undecided factor stayed. Where would you go? There was no kingdom left for you, no home to go to.

For now, you needed to prioritize finding a hiding spot, if only for a night, that supplies warmth.

Given the opportunity, too long out here and you or your horse will indefinitely succumb to the frigid conditions.

Veering off sharply, you sidle beneath a barren magnolia tree, its thick trunk barely blocking the unforgiving wind. Pretty soon you’ll have to keep on, but for now, you’ll savor the temporary peace.

Blue skies indicate it must be nearing morning, and you assume the castle will be slowly waking up. By now, King Bahng would likely be awake as well, you’ve been told he doesn’t sleep well anyway. 

Scouts. He’ll send scouts most likely. Knights like Minho or Hyunjin.

Ugh, the mere thought of Hyunjin finding you a second time makes you nauseous. 

Except, the longer you consider it, King Bahng is the worst case scenario.  

I could break you any time I wanted, Mage. So behave.

Those words send an entourage of chills slithering up your spine, and not from the cold.

Because while Hyunjin is a type of spiteful strong you want to avoid primarily due to how annoying it is, King Bahng is a quiet strong, the kind that wouldn’t confess his anger, but have you witness it firsthand instead.

Enough thinking. You have to go. 

Using the bumpy roots below you for leverage, you wind a leg around the horse’s back, aiming to reach the edge of the territory before midday.

That was the goal, until you’re pummeling to the ground.

The moment is instantaneous, your horse releasing a shriek as it’s swiped right off its feet, slipping onto hard, icy ground and simultaneously crushing you in its descent. 

Almost like vomit you feel the screech of pain building in your throat, a numbness in your right leg along with the warmth of blood soaking your clothing doing little to sustain level breathing.

Then, in the midst of your hysterics, you look upon the visible side of your horse, a pair of claw marks scratched right across its stomach.

Scrambling out to the best of your abilities, you bite your tongue, praying this is one of Hyunjin’s sick, sadistic games and not an obvious ambush.

You refuse to die like this. You’ve survived once and you’ll be damned to give up now.

“I’m impressed. You’re not as weak as I thought.”

A sneering tone speaks from behind you. According to the claw marks, Beast, but not one you remember. And with your current state—being unable to rise to your feet—you’re utterly incapable of ascertaining an identity.

Instantly, your hand reaches up to trace the alcove beneath your ear and neck, any ounce of hope disappearing upon feeling for the salve. 

Gone.

“Now, care to tell me what a Mage is doing in Beast territory?”

He’s hiding behind you on purpose, drawing you into a sensory overload, a panicked frenzy of adrenaline and fear. 

Deer caught in headlights. 

A curved claw unlike those in the Kingdom of Beasts winds your head back, staring straight into the face of something you can hardly deem Beast, more like wolf.

He has this terrifying look in his eyes, and breath that stenches of metal and flesh.

This man is the kind of Beast you’d grown up believing in. Violent, merciless.

Minho, Hyunjin, hell, anyone. Please. 

As if second instinct, you assess everything around you, snatching the closest stick to you and jarring the sharp end through the bottom of his chin with all your might.

A gagged, sort of howling sound emits from above you, putrid-smelling blood spraying all over your face. 

In split seconds does another form appear in your peripheral, your dread heightening before ultramarine stills the horror in its tracks.

King Bahng. 

He’s quiet, expertly slicing the back of the neck, the attacker dropping to the ground motionlessly.

“I could’ve handled it myself.”

It’s a lie. He doesn’t respond.

If the first Beast hadn’t killed you, he certainly would. He said it himself, whenever he pleased, he could break you.

So when King Bahng’s arms extend toward your position on the ground, you prepare for the worst, crawling backwards as quickly as possible.

Surprisingly, he kneels down in front of you, and, as your vision clears, you notice the concern written on his face. 

Weird, the feeling compiling in your gut as he looks at you like that. The way your eyes build with tears, lungs finally hacking for as much non-congested air available without a single word said.

Just by his expression alone, you’re a fit of blood and tears, the aftershock hardly helping ease the experience. 

Crying, in the middle of a forest, with King Bahng as a witness.

“I know, I know,” Is all he whispers, and you barely recognize when he hoists you into his arms, the searing sting of your leg your only indication of movement. 

Smoothly maneuvering you again his chest, he cradles your body close, one hand directing his horse as you ride back to what you assume to be the Kingdom. 

Through the aching pain, you can’t even be upset about returning, merely focusing on the subtle warmth of his body and the strength willing you to say something. 

“You speak nothing of this moment,” You murmur, the King’s body erupting into a tremor of laughter. 

“I speak whatever I like whenever I like, sweetness. No one touches what’s mine, yeah?”

Mine. You hate the effect he has on you. 

Yet, your snarky remarks are depleting in tandem with your energy; the soothing, shushing sound he’s making and the repetitive thump of hooves doing little to keep you from sleeps tempting beckon. 

Eyes drifting closed, his tightened grip pulls you closer, your cheek smushed into the fabric of his coat whilst lost in slumber.

“Hold on a bit longer for me, we’ll be there in no time.”

Recovery, to your luck, is swift. Either that, or Kim Seungmin is secretly a Mage, because within a week spent off your leg, you’re back to normal. 

A little sensitive to weight, but overall, healed.

Initially, despite the agony blazing through your body, you were thankful you barely recalled seeing anyone, swept into the apothecary immediately. 

The last thing you wanted to see after returning would be the faces. Plus, what about your friends? Jeongin, Felix, Han? You’re sure they looked destroyed. 

Except, it’s all fake. A feign kindness given to you only by sympathy. What do the faces matter anyway? 

You gorge that question to the very back of your throat when said Cook walks through the apothecary’s door, utmost apprehension apparent. He grabs your face, brows knit—but not in an angry sort of way, more like staving-down-tears. 

“Don’t you ever do something like that ever again.”

Past him, you can’t help but smile seeing Seungmin’s softened expression watching Felix, adoring his preciousness just as you are. 

“I promise.”

Nodding curtly, he turns around, leaving you to view the many ingredients scattered across his apron. 

He rushed here, cute.

“I’ll bring breakfast down here.”

Craning, you can barely make out his deep voice, lowered to a nearly inaudible decibel. Ears flushed pink, you’re filled with a worrisome amount of happiness seeing Felix’s embarrassment trying to maintain an upset facade.

“Hm? What was that?”

Ah, at this point you’re picking fun.

“I said I’ll bring breakfast down here.” 

Precipitously slipping outside, both you and Seungmin are left to stifle your bubbling laughter, graced with the most appetizing platter you’ve had the pleasure of eating a few minutes later.

However merciful those first few days were, dissipated. And in a short amount of time, you could feel the eyes boring into your back, the questions resting on the tip of tongues.

All the same, nobody mentioned it. And if anything, that made the paranoia grow. 

It was gradual. The subtle shadow you swore you saw in corners, the terror stopping your heart in your chest when you swear someone breathed down your neck. 

Your body may be healed, but your mind certainly isn’t.

To a degree that two weeks later, you’ve found sleep nearly impossible, lingering in the kitchen in the wee hours of morning, teetering on your wits end.

Some occasions it’s Felix who you see first, wiping the sleep from his eyes, loading coal into the furnaces to heat the kitchen for the day. Other days it’s handmaids, shuffling around busily, carrying goods to and fro.

This time, Minho arrives first, for once wearing regular clothing opposed to his usual armor, steaming saucer in clutch. 

Perhaps this is an opportunity, he is a knight after all.

“Hey Minho?”

Tired eyes sweep to your figure on the table, the rim of his cup held to his lips.

“I’m too paranoid and at this point I might die of sleep deprivation,” You huff, referring to his raging, bed-headed self . “…Could you teach me how to use a sword?”

He’s staring at you like you‘ve grown two heads, pulling a chair back to settle in, arms crossed over his chest. 

No sentences need to be said aloud, merely spectating the gears turning in his head enough to set your nerves on edge. 

Yet, in the midst of your waiting, you note a peculiar bruise peeking from his collarbone, another lingering a tad bit lower. 

“And you think a sword is going to protect you?”

The question is genuine, lacking the bemused nature you were expecting.

Another thing you’ve noted throughout your sleepless nights was the continuous amount of times you’d watch the King’s Advisor sneak into his quarters, a realization keeping your response baited.

Seems his love life isn’t a concern.

“Hey, those marks on your neck and shoulder, are those from Ha—“

“When do you want to train.”

All lightheartedness vanishing, you have to chew your lip to avoid ticking him off further by giggling.

“Tomorrow?”

Pushing in his chair with an agreeable hum, you merely whisper a hurried “Thank you” he grunts at, rushing off to who knows where and giving you leeway to recover from the hilarity of it all.

Tomorrow, however, came far too early, not anticipating to be woken up at the crack of dawn, grumpy enough the prospect of blackmailing the King’s Advisor became dangerously tempting. 

Yeah, good luck. He’s not budging until you’re on your feet. 

Seems you underestimated Han Jisung’s stubbornness.

Rushed into a loose gown, you’re led to the Inner Ward, an open sector in the middle of the castle. 

Upon being met with a too-smug Minho, you can practically see the word “payback” hovering above his head, busying himself with fetching supplies.

Perhaps this is karma coming back to bite you.

Ouch.

Except, you’re puzzled. You’re being taught how to deul, yet your teacher isn’t adorning armor nor gear of any kind.  

At your confusion, the knight chokes a cocky guffaw.

“First, we learn how to properly move.” He hands you a wooden sword. “If I so much as leave a scratch on you I’m as good as dead.”

Again, he may appear snarky, but his tone is nothing short of serious. Minho is hard to read.

Wait.

Seeing past your panic, the Beast seems to answer your unspoken question.

“King Bahng is visiting the villages today, he won’t be back till the evening.”

A wave of relief grounds your bones, standing rather pathetically while Minho aids in critiquing your position, instinctively shifting into his own in front of you.

“Now, there are a lot of things to consider when dueling. I’ll narrow things down. Don’t overestimate or underestimate your opponent, trust your gut, be aware of everything, and lastly, do not be afraid to deceive.”

Promptly, he’s lashing out before you can even process his advice, wooden weapon drawn above his head as your grip tightens, attempting to block the strike only for his foot to press into your stomach, sending you falling right onto the ground instead. 

“Isn’t that unfai—“

“Like I said, deception is your greatest weapon. In a game of swords, it doesn’t matter how dirty it’s won, it matters who won.”

He reaches a hand out for you to take, helping you back up again only to both fall back into your stances. 

“Keep in mind, your sword isn’t your only weapon.”

Minding his instruction, you continue onward, sparring heartily till the beating afternoon sun becomes too hot to bask in any longer. Amongst the four hours you had been consumed in training, you’ve snagged certain valuable points.

Calmness is crucial. Your mind streams clearer when you parried, void to the opponent’s increasing frustration—given an advantage of both agility and focus. 

Two, unpredictability is a gift. Minho is especially good at being unpredictable. 

Whether he charges headfirst or aims the forte of his sword toward particularly weak points, you begin to mimic his performance, growing closer and closer to conquering those signature tactics.

Of course, your enjoyment can only last for a bit before it spoils. 

Spoiling as in, Hwang Hyunjin’s random appearance, sauntering into the area as if he’s King himself.

“Well look at this, didn’t think I’d see our runaway and Minho here.”

There’s an air between Minho and Hyunjin, one that forbids Hyunjin from egging his superior on, just like when you were first brought to the Kingdom. Lucky for you, you could be degraded as much as he approved of.  

Feigning a dramatic gasp, he gestures to either wooden sword held in raw palms.

“No way, you’re learning how to deul?! Don’t tell me you’ve never learned basic attacks? Oh right, you never had to fight, huh, princess?”

You bite the skin of your cheek, minding your composure.

“You know nothing about me.”

“I know enough.”

Now he’s asking for it. 

“Say,” He sneers. “Let’s duel.”

Keeping Minho from intervening, you apologetically nod to his disproving expression. He knows it’s stupid, even while fetching his armor and adjusting the metal plating to your body, and you do too, but you can’t afford to back down, you won’t.

Testing your abilities carrying a legitimate sword this time, Minho grants Hyunjin a terse scowl, their own wordless agreement to tone down on anything too harmful.

Somehow, it grates your nerves further.

Straight away, he charges his right foot forward, the metal colliding with a loud ring, narrowing your body to shield your unprotected side.

Hyunjin, though skillful in his wrist mobility, clearly uses his size compared to you as an advantage, carelessly throwing around his jabs whilst relying on form alone.

You shuffle back and forth continuously, the commotion of metal rifle drawing the attention of Beasts alike throughout the castle, stopping their movements to survey.

Lurching himself forward once more, you will your legs to support you, balancing the crushing force of his pushing ascent with as much strength as possible.

“If you win, you get whatever sensible award you want,” He grits, using pure weight alone to gain higher vantage. “But if I win, you marry King Bahng.”

Suddenly, interrupting your stunned reaction to his proposal, Minho’s reminder breaches your eardrums.

Deception is your greatest weapon.

Honestly, you’re bewildered Hyunjin hadn’t played petty thus far, and you have no doubt he will any moment now. 

You can’t afford to waste the opportunity.

Maintaining your gaze targeted on his face, you steal the chance, slipping your sword right beneath his feet, hooking the guard just fast enough to cause his legs to buckle. 

The tip of your sword centimeters from his neck, you cock your brows, finding satisfaction in the glare he’s boring into your skin from his spot on the ground.

In a game of swords, it doesn’t matter how dirty it’s won, it matters who won.

“If King Bahng wishes to marry me, he will deul me himself. That decision isn’t up to you.”

Stalling his immediate laughter upon nudging the sharp point right up against his pulse point, you chuckle.

“I might have to do this more often, you’re not bad when you shut your mouth for once.”

Dropping your sword, you reach out a customary hand he rejects, either of you following Minho to the side stalls to return his armory before a haunting voice stops you in your tracks.

“One more match?”

You’d been ignorant to the Kingdom’s sudden burst of energy, the trembling chains of the drawbridge dropping onto cobblestone ground, the gates shifting open. 

Having appeared through thin air stands King Bahng, constantly arriving at the worst of timing. 

He’s clad in traditional armor, though his has fancier plating, cleaner sheen, azure hues hidden within the gorget.

Your stomach ties itself into a knot, piecing together the details.  

“If this is about the deal, I don’t think I-“

“Oh please princess, this was never up to you. We did this for the sake of the Kingdom, you think we ever considered your say in this?” Hyunjin interjects, quickly escorted away by a frowning Minho and an additional guard you don’t recognize.

Huh?

What… What is he talking about? For the Kingdom? What does he mean for the sake of the Kingdom?

Do us all a favor and marry him, will you? Seungmin’s words ricochet in your skull, the parts assembling perfectly into place.

But if I win, you marry King Bahng.

Marriage. 

They knew all along. They knew you were set to marry him and yet, no one told you.

If your betrayal had been violently inflicted, you would look like a rag doll. All this time, these moments you thought were glee-filled, hopeful.

Lies.

Tearing the King’s chance to speak from his fingertips, you pick up your sword, denying your shaky, white knuckles and replacing those broken feelings with rage instead.

No, you can’t afford to show weakness. You must replace these feelings as quickly as possible. 

No weakness, no mercy. 

“Fine, let’s duel.”

“But-“

“Pick. Up. Your. Sword. And fight me.”

Releasing a sigh, he cautiously pulls his own sword from its sheath, waiting to be counted off unlike Hyunjin.

However skillful you’d been before had completely vanished. Though, you would give yourself the benefit of the doubt, this fight meant your future, meant the minuscule bit of freedom you’d gotten to experience here.

The last thing you wished was to realize you had been lied to, but even more so to realize you’ve been lied to in front of the entire Kingdom, curious faces peering from the castle’s allures.

Your swings sloppy, you credit the severity of the blows as you attack and defend, evidently dueling with fatal intent.

You’ve lost this battle, you know it. Your senses are too overwhelmed to assess spatial awareness, and every muscle in your arm cries out for relief. 

Swept off of your feet in a repeated cycle to earlier, you accept, sitting below the tip of King Bahng’s sword, your defeat.

Almost automatically, the pieces of pride you’d attained after your victory against Hyunjin amounted to nothing. 

You may beat everyone else, but you will never beat this man, now matter how hard you try. The odds will always soar in his favor, and you will suffer the results of it.

This is not a game you’ll win. Because from the beginning, you existed as a marionette, enjoying such naivety till the comprehension as to who controlled the play hit you.

This theatre was particularly unforgiving.

He won.

If your insomnia before was grueling, this was an entirely new extreme. 

Averaging a meager two hours per night, you’re positive you’ve memorized the guest list by heart, staring blankly at the crinkled parchment, unblinking.

In a matter of days, the congratulatory ball will be held. 

You’ll be attending said ball as the bride.

Weeks ago, the guest list had simply been a past time, a mandatory errand for the King’s Advisor, a ball you weren’t aware, and wouldn’t be aware, was meant for you.

Your chest feels.. sad? Empty? 

Yes. Empty is the word. An emptiness gutting you from the inside, the ugly drawback of exhausted options and worthless optimism.

There’s a lot of things to ponder on as well, factors you have to analyze, ensure it wasn’t another stage for an audience you so foolishly performed.

No escape. 

Tuesday, two days before the ball, Jeongin drops by your door, carrying a package under his arm and that effortlessly adorable smile gracing picture-perfect features.

“This is for you, from.. um..” The anxious boy stammers, placing the binded package on your room’s veneer. 

“You can say his name, Jeongin, I’m not mad.”

He exhales audible relief, slender fingers wrapping around your hand before you can bid him farewell.

“He— The King, he’s a good person.”

You force a tight grimace, agreeing despite your contradicting expression.

Perhaps he is, perhaps he isn’t. You don’t know what to believe anymore.

Slipping from bed once the young boy’s footsteps fade in the distance, you gingerly unwind crimson ribbon, allowing the leather exterior to unfold. 

Inside lies a gown.  

A gown that, investigating how breathtaking it is, should be considered nothing short of a ball gown the longer you stare.

Designed as a mantua, the white fabrics paired with lace neck frill and engageantes add an elegance you’ve never seen before. Light, subtle blue hides beneath ruffles of the skirt, further accented by equally blue lace strings fastening the back together and outlining the seam of your square-cut stays.

You can only marvel at the gift given by your future husband, wishing so terribly you could simply run into his arms and pretend everything was well. 

If only it was under better terms, as if nothing had happened. If King Bahng was another man, it’d be possible.

And Wednesday night, the root of your problems bares his face, knocking at your door while you were under the impression it was Han instead.

Acting as if you didn’t care was much easier around everyone but him, especially when you were halfway into tying the laces of your dress, the dress he had purchased for you.

What awful circumstances.

“Don’t touch me,” You hiss, regarding the man across from you with a frown.

Lifting either hand in the air, he seemingly invites you to figure out the impossible strings yourself, cueing a very aggravated, very futile attempt at tightening the ties of your ball gown before (hesitantly) allowing the man to slip behind you.

Of course you had to choose now to try it on.

His touch irritably careful, he ensures the fabric is snug fitting but breathable, each woven thread in its coordinating pattern.

Where he learned this you have no idea, only aware of how horrific this close proximity is, your restlessness growing unbearable.

Running his tongue over his top teeth, he backs up slightly, taking you in with apparent speechlessness.

He clears his throat.

“I won’t apologize because I know it means nothing to you, but please, let me explain. I intended to tell you, I just-“

He sounds timid, like a child.

A sour, bitter fury froths like bile in your throat. You want to explode. 

“No. No. I didn’t want this! I won’t!” You wind around, pointing an accusing finger to his chest. “You killed them all, my family, my loved ones, children. I hate you. I hate you!” Your voice breaks, a gravelly, disgusting drawl raking your throat raw. Salty, burning tears drip down your collarbones.

Grievance. An innumerable stage of sadness you hadn’t reached before now, overflowing.

As he tries calming you down, you only grow angrier, pushing from your path to the door, ripping the handle awry.

Instantly, his arms wrap around your middle, hauling you back as you kick and scream, fingernails digging into any available skin, dress puffing as your legs flail.

Catastrophic.

“No- No!”

You’re certain the entire kingdom can hear you, but that’s the last concern occupying your headspace, too focused on escaping, far off as you had done earlier, anywhere but here.

“Stop crying,” He commands, either hand on your wrist pinning your back to the bed, expression morphed pitifully. His calloused hand swipes the storming rivulets from your cheeks. 

“Please, Y/n, please stop crying. It hurts.” 

Your response shortens into a simple sob, aching.

“It hurts..?” You murmur, eyes shifting over his face. “…You hurt?”

Incessant crying causing your skin to burn, he only blinks at you.

A fit of anger forms just as fast as it disappeared in the pit of your stomach.

“You’re hurting? You’re the sick son of a bitch that killed my family and took everything I’ve ever loved away, you don’t deserve to hurt!”

Sucking in a necessary inhale, you angrily flail, wrinkling your nose at the careful tilt of his head, the distance of his face from yours, every scar, every pore close enough to see.

What happened to the King who threatened to break you? Why is he pitying you, looking at you with such kindness?

Longing to bring up how useless the deal was, how the benefits of the marriage aren’t your responsibility, you simply glare, emotions a whirlwind you can’t explain, can’t say aloud. 

And all he does is stare. Staring like you’ve said nothing at all. 

You want to cry out, want to curse him for all eternity, curse those blue eyes that seem to pave a pathway through your soul.

But you don’t. He beats you to it.

“..Do you know why my eyes are blue?”

What?

“Because I’m not fully Beast. My mother was a Mage. She turned against my father after I was born, left us, and vowed to do everything in her power to destroy Beasts.” 

Your face contorts nonsensically, his tight hold on your wrists loosening the longer he speaks.

“And I assume,” He redirects your head, forcing you to maintain eye contact. 

Rearing deja-vú reminds you of your first encounter. 

“No one ever told you Mage’s started the war.”

You scoff.  

“Or that the Mage planned to cut off all trade supply simply out of spite. And so, I did what I had to—“

“You did what you wanted to. You killed helpless people because of your own problems, my family had nothing to do with it!” Vocal cords throbbing the louder you scream, you try kicking your legs to no avail. 

“Your family, Mage, had everything to do with it. My people would have died-“

“Mine already did. So now what?”

A minuscule pinch occupies his brows.

“You weren’t supposed to be alive.”

“But I am, so you might as well let me join them.” 

He sighs, a stray, obsidian strand of hair hanging over his forehead.

“You know I can’t do that.”

You test the words on your tongue, wedging your hand out to grab his face, feeling the dip of his jaw as he sucks in a breath.

When you first met, he had told you he’d break you. This change of heart confuses you, grates more anger in your chest.

“And why is that?”

Opening his mouth, he momentarily closes it, then opens again, contemplating the statement with caution.

He’s right, in some way. 

You’re not supposed to be alive, not supposed to be saddened. You were meant to be in the ground with them, be one of the many bodies littering the L/N Kingdom, granted an eternal sleep. 

Yet, you aren’t. 

You survived, and you despise this man with every fiber of your being for that.

But things cannot change. You can’t bring them back, and his situation is just as painful as yours. 

You both lost people, or, would’ve lost people.

An explanation or an apology, as he said, isn’t necessary.

So you’ll get what you want, tangibly.

Forcefully grabbing his chin and jutting him closer to you on the bed, your voice drips with venom, noses mere breadth apart.

“Then end this winter and marry me, Your Highness.”

For a split second you swear his gaze drifts to your lips, but you shake the thought away, his sharp canines glinting off the mirrors reflection. 

“Aren’t I supposed to be the one to propose?”

“You killed my family, no need for formalities.”

“Care to remind me why you agreed to marry him? Weren’t you planning to kill him?” Felix piques, apron woven around his thin waist, skillfully measuring flour that’s dusted over his nose.

You needed to get your anger out, then devise a plan. Show King Bahng you weren’t going to succumb to his charms, tricks. Ever.

You hum from your spot on the counter, conversing just as you’d done back in your kingdom with Ms. Maewether. 

Technically, he was your new Ms. Maewether.

“Oh no, I still plan on killing him, I just want something first.”

Except, you didn’t talk about murder in front of Ms. Maewether. That was new.

He raises an eyebrow.

“And what would that be?”

Snapping your fingers, you cheerily tap your heels against the cabinets below.

“I want to see spring again.”

Silence overcoming the kitchen, it takes Felix a full minute to understand your preposition before bursting into unadulterated laughter. Well, until he realizes. Then he pouts.

“Aw, I was really looking forward to seeing Chris rejected at the altar.” The smaller Beast whines, popping a piece of sugary sweet dough his mouth and handing another to you.

“Hey, now that’s just cruel,” You mumble, muffled by the delicacy you’re currently chewing on.

“According to you yesterday, not really.”

Ah. Right.

“We just… have a lot to talk about.”

The phrase sounds stupid, but it’s true. Logically, emotionally it’s true. There is a lot in need of discussing.

For now, you’re indifferent.

“I’ve always thought you two were similar.”

The cook’s outburst catches you off guard.

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve always wanted to protect what mattered to you most, and maybe, one day, you can understand why he did what he did.”

Leave it to Felix to be your reasonable opinion.

Nevertheless, an invisible barrier rests between you two. A lie. His lie. The Kingdom’s lie.

“Felix, I will never understand why he did it,” You humorlessly chuckle, hopping from your spot. “So tell me, why did you lie?”

All morning you debated the right time to confront him. Tonight was the night, the congratulatory ball, the wedding. Why wait? 

Freezing with his back turned to you, he stops mid-slice, dropping the knife atop the cutting board and gradually facing you. 

Oh Felix.

His nose flushed pink, lips quivering, you allow him to race forward and hug you, head tucked into your shoulder while you stand there, motionless.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. It was decided from the start, but we were told not to tell you, not until King Bahng told you himself.”

You want to tell him it’s okay, make some jokes, act like things are normal. Though your arms stay glued to your side.

“I guess Hyunjin beat him to it, huh?” 

His arms tighten around you and, with a sigh, you pat his back, gently nudging him off of you where you can hold that sweet face of his.

“But don’t worry about me, alright? I can handle this, and I forgive you, so let’s move on from this, Lix.” Tenderly rubbing the skin of his cheek, he meekly smiles, an action you can’t help but feel relieved seeing.

You’re strong. You have to be strong. For Felix, for Han, for Jeongin, for your friends throughout the Beast Clan, you’ll be strong. You’ll enjoy wearing the gown regardless of who bought it for you, cherish the wedding no matter the man you’re wedded to.

If you’re going to have to live like this forever, you might as well make the most of it.

On today’s occasion, you’re dressed by a hand maid sent to your quarters, polished and puffed to perfection by the time five o’clock arrives and the banquet officially begins.

And when you see yourself in the mirror, you’re not exactly sure who stares back at you. 

She’s pretty, yes, but she isn’t Y/N. She’s a Queen, the Queen of the Beast Clan.

Your stomach wrenches.

By tomorrow, you’ll be married. Married to King Bahng. You will be a wife, the wife of a King just as the L/N Kingdom intended. 

The thought continues to plague your mind, sucking more and more oxygen from your lungs that as you’re escorted to the ball room.

You can hardly inhale and exhale normally as Changbin, whom you appreciate enormously, walks you down the aisle, past an abundance of people you’ve never seen before. Beasts, business men, acquaintances alike.

Sensing your panic, your linked arms allow him to spare you a meager glance you anxiously return.

It’s fine. It’ll be fine. 

All previous calmness long dissipated, when you finally redirect your attention from your feet and take in King Bahng waiting at the altar, your rampaging anxiousness increases tenfold.

As the audience claps and either of you turn with your backs facing the crowd, you scorn your lack of a poker face when the King rests a hand on your back.

“Breathe,” He utters, only a whisper you heard. 

Wishing to thank him, you bite your tongue, considering the man you’re referring to in the first place prior to replying.

A sharp nod of your head is enough.

Stifling an exhale, you spin on your heel, both bowing to the public before facing each other and holding hands, an action that shouldn’t cause goosebumps to swarm your arms, but does anyway.

“You plan to smash my face in at our wedding?” He murmurs below the customary vows, acknowledging your fingernails digging into his hand.

“Keep giving me ideas and I migh-“

The retort vanishes when he presses his lips to yours, doubling back in shock before his palm on your back keeps you close.

Granting you breathing room if only for an instant, a slow grin tugs at the edge of his lips. 

“Then before I die, let me have this first.”

And he dives right back in again, kiss surprisingly tender compared to what you’d expected. Something bruising, dominating.

Instead, the King was soft. Soft as he held your cheek in a hand, soft when pulling you in by the waist.

Separating if only for a fraction of a second, you reach to hold his face, every instinct beckoning you to push him away dissipating into nothing but the nullified drone of your head and the insistent racing of your heartbeat.

“Are you that nervous, pretty? Your heart is-“

You pull him to your lips once more, hating how easy it is to forget, how his lips numb your thoughts—though unable to get enough.

“Shut up and kiss me.”

The guests hollering in your peripheral the lone sound breaching your eardrums, you can’t help thinking. 

He did this for his people just as you would’ve done. As for the Mage instigating the war, some secrets shall remain hidden, unable to be answered. You have to accept that among many things. 

The King has done nothing but care for you, and as much as you resent him for it, you respect him, if only a tiny bit, as well.

He’s irritable, and not to mention annoyingly handsome. His sympathy-filled eyes might be the death of you, and those dimples of his are stupidly lovable.

But he’s your husband, and somehow, strangely enough, you don’t find yourself hating the thought as much anymore.

Not when he holds you, and especially not when he kisses you as if it’s your last.

After the many hours spent celebrating, you couldn’t have been more enthusiastic about returning to your quarters.

Joined by King Bahng, you find traversing as easy as ever with the help of the (half) Beast behind you, helping navigate past multitudes of people, oddly comforting touch on your back guiding you through the hallways.  

Arriving at your room, he pauses, awkwardly shifting his weight on his heels, bewitching gaze flitting left and right, uncharacteristic to his usually smug attitude.

“…Was the kiss too much?”

King Bahng, asking if his kiss was too much?

You wanted to photograph this moment in your mind forever, debating on whether you should tease him about it, egg the normally stoic King on. 

However, you tip his chin down, pressing a chaste, soft peck to his lips, amusedly observing him freeze before melting into your touch.

“Could be better.” 

He huffs a sigh in response, and you’re left wondering if this is the same man who threatened to break you, the one who now looks like a pouty toddler.

Although, just as you slip by, he takes ahold of your wrist. 

“Goodnight Y/N.”

You crack a smile.

“Good night Chris.”

And, suppressing your chuckle, you close the door behind you.

Hastily undressing into nightwear and slipping into bed, you stare up at the ceiling, hours passing from the ticking of a clock in the corner, echoing around the room. 

Then, abruptly, your door creaks open.

“My gods, what are you doing here?” You whisper into the darkness, the door creaking behind his crouched form, King Bahng’s crouched form.

“I needed to see you.”

Ah. Don’t say things like that. 

Pulling the covers further over yourself, you squint accusingly at the man as he enters, silencing your urge to reprimand he saw you mere hours earlier, presumptuously sitting opposite to you. 

He scans what’s visible, fixating on your hand for a moment.

“You kept the ring on?”

Noting the gleaming jewel on your ring finger, you can’t help but feel slightly bashful. It’s not like you’re really married, but the thought sends a sort of satisfaction spreading throughout your chest. 

“If I take it off, will it become winter again?”

He grins, giggling childishly. 

“Is that the only reason?”

Debating on your response, you wet your lips, looking back up at his barely distinguishable face shrouded in darkness.

You have no doubt he’s thriving off your hesitance. 

Oh how badly you wish to wipe that look clean, but in reality, keeping the ring on feels as if a part of you from your own kingdom is with you, similar to your old clothing.

The part of you that, if not invaded, would belong to someone loved, newly wedded.

“No,” You mutter, though the phrase is barely audible.

He perks up.

“Hm?”

You regret saying that. But he’s already heard, there’s no use lying aimlessly.

“I said no, that’s not the only reason.”

“Care to tell me the other reason?” 

Rapidly averting your attention to your hand, you discover speaking is easier when not looking at him. 

“Keeping it on makes me feel like I’m really in love. I like imagining that, being married.”

You miss the sad lilt crossing his face.

“We are married.”

Without missing a beat, you meet his stare.

“Are we?” 

Unlike before, there’s no waver to your voice, no caution. 

Winding around to your side of the bed, he settles beside your feet. 

You clear your throat.

“I wanted to see spring again, and to you, I’m simply a present. A playtoy to your disposal. This isn’t marriage, not how I was taught, this is just a business arrangement.”

Nevertheless, the hurt leaks into your voice. So long to a resilient tone. 

“Y/N, don’t do this to me.”

Come to think of it, it’s the first time he’s ever called you by your name apart from last night. 

Having had enough of his nonsense, you spring for his collar, dragging him below you on the bed. Opposite to earlier, you’re on top this time, you’re in control.

“You don’t deny it.”

A silence passes.

“I would deny it a thousand times, but you wouldn’t believe me. And I don’t blame you for that.” 

He sucks in a breath.

“I only ask you don’t doubt this marriage. This isn’t a business arrangement, and I will treat you with as much respect and love as possible, even if you don’t want me too. That is what marriage is, how I was taught.”

It’s your turn to inhale, lost within the confines of this dark space. 

“Chris, do you love me?”

You both have people you love, people you want to protect, wanted to protect. It wasn’t his intention to hurt you, not when he found you after you ran away, not when ordering a salve to keep you safe, nor now, as you lean above him. 

Like he told you. You weren’t meant to survive. You were supposed to be peacefully asleep, forever. 

This man, this Mage, this Beast, is as much a murderer as your savior. You choose how to condemn him. 

“I do, more than you could ever imagine.”

How can you stay mad at a guilty man, a man who kept you alive when you were on the brink of death? Who now professes to loving you, wanting to give you a marriage you’d been cheated of, give you everything you’ve been cheated of with everything in his power. 

Hovering right by his lips to the point your chests touch, you place a miniature kiss there.

“I hate you, so much.” 

Then another kiss.

His arms, wrapped around your more elevated form, drag you down in an embrace. One hand presses your face to his shoulder, another rubbing circles on your back. 

“And I’m so sorry, I’m so, so, sorry.”

Raising up, you can’t contain the tremor of your lip, the way your eyes shakily close shut as you steal a third kiss from his lips, a kiss he returns, hands carefully holding each side of your face.

“Chris?” You manage, currently straddling his lap, his body resting against the headboard. 

Kindly, he keeps a palm against your lower back, helping you balance.

“Can you show me what it means to be loved?”

You never understood how a person could melt until this moment. He wears that look again, like in the forest. The look that makes you cry.

What love looks like for Christopher Bahng, you don’t know. You have no doubt there will be ugly moments, moments you’ll reconsider, rethink. 

You’re both hurt, some wounds still hurting. But for him, for you, you’re willing to take that chance.

“I’d be honored.”

FIC TAGLIST. @stayceebs97 @duhgirl @yourgirljanvi @readr1221 @spearbinnie0327 @hyunjinsartpeice @cheesytangerine @palindrome969 @luminouskalopsia @kiaralynn3838 @chrizztopher97 @starlost-andfound @weeping-angel-in-the-tard1s @zaggprincess2

sunboki, may 2022 ©

#skz x you #skz x reader #stray kids x y/n #straykids x you #straykids x reader #straykids x y/n #stray kids x you #stray kids x reader #bangchan x y/n #skz x y/n #bangchan x female reader #bangchan x you #bangchan x reader #bang chan x female reader #bang chan x reader #bang chan x y/n #bang chan x you #bang chan fluff #bangchan fluff #bangchan angst #bang chan angst #bang chan comfort

[lonely-cowboy]

beautifully human

pairing: connor (rk800) x f!reader

summary: after noticing the way connor looks at other androids, you worry that you may never have a chance with him. but what you don't know is that he has only ever had eyes for you.

word count: 2.9k

warnings: insecure reader, mentions of death (they literally talk about dying in an elevator) (spoiler alert: it doesn't happen), probably ooc connor, west coast dialect went a little too hard in the dialogue, some very specific physical descriptions that i also tried to keep as general as possible? you'll see what i mean ig

author's note: glad to report that this account is lowkey helping me get over my writer's block, so that's amazing for me. anyway. as usual, feel free to leave any critiques on how i can improve my writing, characterization, etc.! :)

masterlist ⟡ requests

You hated that your investigation brought you to the Eden Club. You didn’t necessarily hate the Eden Club or its workers, but you hated that you had to go with Connor and Hank. It would’ve been embarrassing enough to go with just Hank, but adding Connor to the mix made you want to collapse to the ground and never move again. But you were a professional, so if you had to go with Connor and Hank then you could suck it up for a night. Hopefully.

The moment you stepped inside the club, you were filled with unease. Your stomach churned and your shoulders scrunched up high as if you were trying to hide from the world. To handle your discomfort, you turned cold and distant, observing everything and everyone with an icy glare. You trailed behind Hank and Connor as you scanned your surroundings, doing your very best to look at everything but Connor.

You couldn’t look at Connor in this place without being filled with a displaced sense of anger. You couldn’t help but wonder if he looked at these androids with infatuation or desire. Did he find them beautiful? Did he want them in the same way you wanted him? You knew they were stupid thoughts, but you couldn’t control them. Somehow, Connor had weaseled his way into your heart and refused to leave no matter how hard you tried.

Distracted by your foggy mind, you almost bumped right into Connor when he stopped to admire a Traci, his soft gaze exploring her body through the glass barrier. You watched as the Traci smiled gently at him, her hand reaching forward to touch the glass like she was trying to caress his cheek. Connor didn’t move to reciprocate her action, but he still appeared to be in awe. It only made your scowl deepen.

You hated that you were consumed by jealousy because you knew– deep down– that it stemmed from insecurity. This Traci was made to be beautiful. She was made to be desired and worshipped. In her limited clothing, there wasn’t much left to the imagination. Her body was the epitome of perfect with its soft curves and smooth skin. She was a perfect balance of sweet and charismatic. She was everything that you assumed a man wanted, and androids were no exception. From the way Connor looked at her, you were sure she was everything he wanted too. 

You sighed in frustration before marching away as Hank called to Connor. You refused to let your jealousy– or anything you felt for Connor– get in the way of your investigation. But no matter how hard you tried, your mind was still drawn to him.

Maybe you had been too hopeful, but you really had thought that maybe– just maybe– Connor had felt something for you. Apparently, you were just far more delusional than you thought.

While Hank discussed the crime scene with Officer Miller, you stood to the side looking uncharacteristically cold. With your arms folded over your chest and a hard, almost bored look in your eye, it was clear that you weren’t particularly interested in talking to anyone. You assumed that would be obvious to everyone, androids included. And it seemed that it had been obvious, but that certainly didn’t stop Connor.

From the corner of your eye, you could see Connor watching you with a confused glint. His LED flashed yellow as he analyzed your body language, working to only make your blood boil. You knew there was no reason to be angry with him, so why did your anger persist? Why did you feel so unreasonably jealous? He was just a man, after all, nothing more.

Connor approached you with his hands clasped behind his back, standing beside you and following your cold gaze. He was silent for a moment, pleased to simply be in your presence even when you were acting so stony.

“You’re unusually quiet, Detective,” Connor observed. “This is not within your typical behavioral patterns. Are you feeling alright?”

“I’m fine,” you answered dismissively. “Don’t you have a body to analyze?”

Connor paused again, pursing his lips in a way that was so oddly human. In a gentle tone, he said, “Well… yes. But that’s usually something we do together.”

“Why?” you hissed, feeling suddenly riled now that Connor was talking to you. Why was he giving you this attention? Why was he acting like he cared about you? You knew he didn’t. At least, your clouded mind let you think he didn’t. “It’s not like you need my help. You can do everything on your own, I’m useless to you.”

Connor turned his body towards you fully, a deep crease settling between his brows. His LED continued to circle yellow as he studied you once again. That made you roll your eyes which seemed to be enough of a hint for Connor. With his LED still glowing yellow, he turned away without another word, allowing you to resume your wallowing in misery. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You were still fuming as Hank drove you home. With Connor in the front seat, you were stuck in the back, glaring daggers into his back. How had such a clueless android managed to lure you in and make you jealous purely because he wasn’t interested in you?

As Connor jabbered on about something or other, you stared out the car window absentmindedly. You couldn’t help but imagine the Traci on the other side of the window, reaching out and smiling that perfect smile that made you never want to smile again.

You glanced at Connor as he fell silent. He turned to look out the window, making you cringe at the idea that he truly was thinking of the Traci. But you failed to notice his eyes transfixed on you through the side mirror, his gaze gentle and curious as he admired your stubborn look. He stared at you dreamily the rest of the car ride. 

When you finally reached your apartment building, Hank had barely stopped the car before you were clambering out and slamming the door behind you.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you grumbled, having enough decency to give Hank a small wave. 

As you trudged towards your apartment building, you froze at the sound of another car door opening and closing. You cursed under your breath, hesitant to turn for fear of whom you might find. As you glanced over your shoulder, you cursed again as your fear came true. Connor approached you with long strides, leaving behind a very confused-looking Hank.

“I’ll walk you to your apartment,” Connor offered innocently. 

You stared at him blankly and muttered, “Connor, my building is right here. I just need to go up a few floors. I know how to use an elevator, I’ll manage just fine on my own.”

You turned and continued towards your building, not surprised when you heard Connor follow.

“The chances of an elevator-related death are one in 10.5 million,” Connor continued in that matter-of-fact tone that you usually found so endearing. 

When Connor didn’t elaborate, you stopped and turned to him again with a raised brow. You waited for more, but it still didn’t come. Connor just stared at you pleasantly, drinking in your charmingly confused face.

“Okay…,” you said. “So like I said, I’ll be fine on my own.”

“But the chance of it happening is still possible, so it’s best if I escort you,” Connor continued. His grin widened as you rolled your eyes in acceptance. As an afterthought, he added, “Just in case.” 

In silence, the two of you made your way up the elevator (where you did not, in fact, die) and to your apartment. You stood outside the door and turned to Connor, ready to send him away in the hopes that if you couldn’t see him then you wouldn’t be overwhelmed by images of him and that Traci. But you knew that wasn’t the case because even when he was long gone you would still think about how you couldn’t be enough for him. You weren’t pretty enough for such an angelic being like him, not when other beautifully crafted androids existed.

“May I come in?” Connor inquired before you could even open your mouth.

No.

You wanted to say no so desperately. You wanted him to leave. You wanted to bury yourself under your bed sheets and never see him again.

But he was still your friend, and you were still a decent enough person. It would be rude to reject him.

“Sure,” you replied softly, opening the door to allow the two of you in.

The moment you closed the door, Connor was already asking questions that you were not at all prepared for.

“You were upset today,” he noted. “Do you want to talk about how you feel?”

“I… what?” you stammered. “Since when are you a therapist android?”

“I’m not a therapist android, but as your companion, I care about your well-being,” Connor answered far too casually for your liking.

Companion? Well-being?

“Yeah, I doubt that,” you mumbled without thinking.

You were stupid to think Connor wouldn’t have heard you. With his sensitive hearing, he heard you loud and clear. Your comment made him tilt his head curiously and narrow his eyes.

“Why would I not care about you?” he asked, the genuine confusion in his voice making your resolve melt. 

“That’s not… it’s just…,” you blabbered, throwing your hands up in exasperation as you struggled to find the right words. “I wouldn’t expect you to care about me the same way–”

You stopped abruptly, eyes wide as your mind finally caught up to your yapping mouth. You could not finish that sentence.

Connor’s eyes narrowed further at your sudden pause. He took a cautious step forward, then another. You knew that he had already noticed the way your heartbeat accelerated, your breath suddenly caught in your throat. “The same way… what?” he repeated, urging you to finish your sentence.

“It’s nothing, it’s stupid,” you dismissed. 

Connor murmured your name as if he were scolding a child, raising a brow as a sign of encouragement to finish.

“Well… I wouldn’t expect you to care about me… the same way… the same way I care about you,” you said, the last part coming out far too hurried. 

Maybe if you had just finished your sentence the first time you wouldn’t be in this situation. That was a perfectly normal thing to say to a friend, wasn’t it? Absolutely. Absolutely… But the way you had paused only made you look more suspicious. You knew Connor was smart enough to understand the suggestion of romantic feelings.

“How is it you feel about me?” Connor questioned.

“It doesn’t matter, you wouldn’t feel the same anyway,” you muttered, pushing past him to be anywhere that wasn’t near him.

Before you could get too far, Connor’s iron grip wrapped around your wrist and held you in place. You looked at him with offense, but he knew you meant nothing by it.

“It does matter, Detective,” he whispered lowly. “It matters to me.”

There was no going back now. Connor already got the hint that you cared for him more than you probably should. You might as well say it outright. That was better than being embarrassed and pretending nothing happened. Right?

“I like you, Connor,” you admitted, the words sounding childish in your mouth. “God, this is so embarrassing…”

Connor was silent for a long moment, making you wonder if he actually had figured it out. If he hadn’t… God, you would be mortified. Did he really not know, and you just willingly outed yourself to him?

You risked a peek at Connor to find him already looking at you with a small smile. His hand was still holding your wrist tightly, his skin comfortingly warm against your burning skin. The glint in his eyes made your brows furrow as heat rose to your cheeks.

“Why would you think I don’t care about you?” Connor asked, the quirk of his lips telling you that he found all of this somewhat amusing.

“I mean… yeah, I would think that you care about me. On some level. I’d assume…,” you prattled. “But as a friend, obviously. Connor, I’m not sure you understand what I mean when I say I like–”

“I understand perfectly well, Detective,” Connor interrupted. “So I’ll pose the question once again: why would you think I don’t care about you?”

The confusion was clear on your face. Tilting your head to the side, you turned your body to face Connor slightly, giving him the opportunity to lightly pull your wrist until you were completely facing him. Even when he had you standing where he wanted, he still didn’t let go of your wrist, though he loosened his grasp and held you lightly. You could feel his thumb rubbing along your inner wrist soothingly. Your knees felt weak, and you were sure you were going to collapse against him at any second. His touch was so loving that you almost believed he could feel the same way.

You nearly forgot Connor had asked you a question until he gave your arm a light squeeze that snapped you back to attention. He arched both eyebrows, watching you with that humorous glint. 

“I just… Well…,” you faltered. You inhaled sharply, gathering your thoughts before you continued. “I just can’t understand how or why someone like you would be interested in someone like me when there are so many better options. Yeah, I guess… I guess that’s it. I don’t know…”

“Better options?” Connor repeated. The obvious confusion in his voice warmed your heart. It was as if he had never even considered that there could be better options.

“Well, yeah,” you shrugged. “I’m no android, Connor. I’m not… I’m not perfect. I’m not beautiful or stunning or gorgeous. I’m not like that girl you were looking at.”

There was another long pause as Connor struggled to process your words. His LED spiraled yellow as he questioned, “What girl?”

“The Traci,” you explained in exasperation, “at the Eden Club. It looked like you were practically in love with her, and I don’t blame you. She’s the definition of perfect. Not a single flaw in sight.”

“You think you’re flawed?” Connor asked immediately. That was his biggest takeaway?

“Yes, obviously, Connor! I am! And I just find it very hard to believe that someone as beautiful as you could be attracted to someone as… average as me,” you snapped, sounding harsher than you intended.

Connor released your wrist, and for a moment you worried that you scared him off. But then his warm hands were holding your cheeks, his thumbs now slowly running along your cheekbones. He stepped forward until his body was pressed against yours, leaning down until his forehead was nearly touching yours. His eyes latched onto yours, and for a moment, he just held your gaze in silence. He was reveling in the sight of you, so close to him that he could feel your sweet breath against his lips.

“It seems you don’t realize how beautiful you are,” he murmured. “Perhaps I’ll have to explain it to you.”

Connor paused again, searching your eyes for any effort to argue. But you were still so stunned by his sudden proximity that you had nothing to give. When he heard no contradiction, Connor smiled and continued on.

“Maybe you don’t think you’re perfect,” he started, “but I do. Everything you see as a flaw, I see as beautiful. It makes you you. It makes you so… human. And maybe you can’t understand because of it, but there’s something so pure about being human. Just being human makes you beautiful. But you… you’re different. You’re above them all.”

There was a strangely desperate look in Connor’s eyes like he was pleading with you to understand. Exhaling slowly, he leaned forward and rested his forehead against your own. He closed his eyes, his LED shifting from yellow to blue and back again as he tried to sift through the swarm of emotions.

“I don’t know why it’s you, but it is,” he whispered, his voice nearly too quiet for you to hear. “I just can’t help but notice everything about you. I love the wrinkles on your forehead when you’re confused to the point of frustration. I love when only one side of your hair is brushed because you’re too lazy to brush the other. I love when your lip bleeds because you’re biting it while you’re thinking and you don’t even notice. I love…”

Connor stopped and pulled back slightly, his hands still resting on your cheeks. His LED circled red once, the worry on his face far too obvious to your keen eyes. When you didn’t say anything, Connor tried to pull away, but you didn’t let him.

Your hands quickly moved to rest over top his, holding him in place. You looked up at him with eyes full of admiration and wonder as if an angel had come and graced the earth. Maybe that’s what he was, an angel. You would believe it. With that pretty face and those sweet words, you could easily be fooled.

As you eyed Connor’s face, the corners of your lips quirked into a smile. Maybe you could be enough for him. He seemed to think so. It was that thought alone that drove you to lean forward and press the faintest of kisses to Connor’s lips. It was barely a peck, and as you pulled away, Connor leaned forward to chase after your warmth. The gesture made you laugh as you whispered against his lips.

“I love how human you are.” 

#detroit become human #connor x reader #dbh connor x reader #rk800 x reader #dbh connor #connor rk800

[h0nkch0c0late]

ahhh stop ur gen v fics are too good. Maybe could you write abt reader having some sort of like super scream powers and they’re dating Jordan

You're too nice, anon 😭😭🫶🫶 also when you said super scream powers I immediately thought of the girl from Danger Force so that's kinda funny.

Scream Queen

Jordan Lee x Reader

SUMMARY: you've always hated your powers. Sonic screaming to you wasn't as cool as being able to teleport or moving things with your mind. To Jordan, your powers were amazing.

WARNINGS: swearing, a very supportive gushy Jordan.

-------------------------------------------

You felt like out of everyone, your powers were the most boring.

Now, to the normal human eye, your powers were awesome as fuck. With just a scream you could knock someone against a wall or paralyze people by making their eardrums bleed.

Jordan, although not a normal human being, absolutely adored your powers. It was one of the many things that made you unique. Not to mention it was fun watching you throw Rufus around when duelling for one of your classes.

The only problem was that your powers absolutely fucked with your throat afterwards and you would go hours without talking just to make yourself feel better, that or Jordan would stick you in their bed and make you lay there so they could take care of you.

And today was one of those days.

-----------------------------------------------------

"Jordan, babe, really I'm fine." You tell her, voice scratchy, trying to lift yourself from her bed.

She gave you a knowing look before pushing you back down, "you are definitely not fine, I can hear it. Now just lay there and wait." They demanded.

You sighed before clearing your throat, flinching at the pain that shot through your body at the action.

"Where the fuck are you gonna get the tea anyway?" You ask, regretting your choice of speaking as your throat felt like sandpaper.

Jordan smirks, "I have my ways. Now just lay there, do not move or speak while I go grab it." They retorted before rushing out of their dorm door.

You huffed, crossing your arms as you waited.

And while you waited, you thought about the events that had lead you to that moment.

Rufus had been his usual, creepy dickish self, and had chosen you as the main target that day.

Unfortunately for you, Jordan wasn't at your side to save you, so you had to save yourself.

So, as Rufus continually tried to get into your pants (more so you into his), saying things such as "I'm much better than Jordan" and comments about how his dick was bigger and better, you had just about enough.

Turning to him, and screaming as loud as you could, sending waves at the boy so loud that it had began to make his eardrums bleed. He had fallen to the ground paralyzed, his eyes frozen wide.

You smirked at him being defenseless as you rubbed your now-sore throat, just in time for Jordan to find you, ans that's how you ended up in his room for the millionth time.

They were fine with taking care of you, after all it was part of the job description of being your partner, and all.

In fact they absolutely loved it, because it meant that they're attention was on you and only you. And she loved those moments where it was just the two of you.

------------------------------------

Jordan came back shortly with a mug of tea in her hand, sweetened with mostly honey to the point where you couldn't tell what flavour the tea was.

Your favourite.

It also meant endless Jordan snuggles so you weren't much of a complainer when it came to that.

It was the fact that you constantly needed care. Yes, it was only a sore throat, but Jordan continuously refused to tell you what her sore throat remedy was BECAUSE she wanted to take care of you.

"Be careful, it's hot." They warned as they handed you the mug, then climbed into the bed with you.

"Yes, yes, I know. I'm careful." You reply hoarsly before taking a sip of the drink, enjoying the feeling of the tea going down.

Jordan turned their body towards you, wrapping one arm around your torso and the other to entangle their fingers in your hair, kissing your shoulder as they snuggled close to you.

"You're too nice to me." You tell them as you take another sip of your tea, one of your fingers circling the rim of the cup as an unconscious fidget.

"Please, im the perfect amount of nice. You're just not used to this much attention, which I get." She noted, resting her head on your shoulder.

You rested the mug against your legs as you leaned your head against their's.

Jordan was right, you weren't used to all the attention.

Your parents had always been distant with you, making your nanny or a made take care of you whenever you got sick or when you used your powers because they were too busy living their own lives to take care of you.

And even then, those who did take care of you were absolutely terrified of you and your powers.

So when you had met Jordan, and first got into the relationship, the immediate switch of having no one to having someone was a big step.

"I love you, Jordan." You said after a moment of comfortable silence, your cup of tea half finished as you put it on your bedside table.

"I love you too." They replied, pulling you closer to them as you wrapped your arms around their waist.

Even during the times you hated your powers, Jordan somehow managed to make you love them.

-------------------------------------------------------

BOO another Jordan fic for you thirsty gentlebitches <3

#x reader #imagine #jordan li x reader #jordan li #gen v fanfiction #gen v

[shiggybrainr0t]

shouto wakes up trapped underneath a collapsed building, only to find himself also trapped in your embrace.

warnings: both Shouto and reader are hurt pretty badly </3, blood, immediate threat of death lol?, description of a broken leg, mention of vomiting but it doesn’t happen and isn’t explicitly stated, this is cheesy and unedited

border by @cafekitsune :)

dedicated to andie if they happen to see it because I thought of them while writing my very first Shouto fic 💘

Whenever Shouto awakes, it’s to a pounding headache, intense pain throbbing along the right side of his body, flickering lights, and something soft holding him tightly.

Groggily, he opens his eyes, wincing as the flickering light blinds him for a second. There’s a steady drip drip drip of water falling onto concrete though it’s too dark to make out much of his surroundings as the light flickers off again. The last thing he remembers is coming to an office building, where a villain with an unknown quirk was holding people hostage. A teary sounding gasp makes him look upwards weakly, only now noticing he is laying down.

He sees your face for the first time then. Eyes puffy and red from crying, with a trail of blood dripping from your hairline and down your nose, past your lips to where it becomes smeared as you wipe it away hurriedly.

“You’re awake!”

Your voice is soft, and slightly trembling as you gaze at him with wide, wavering eyes. They’re very pretty, he thinks dazedly. Framed by wet lashes, he also thinks he could look into them forever. Shouto moves to shift only to have his vision flash as pain erupts like molten lava traveling down his side.

“D-don’t try to move! A beam fell on you before you passed out. You were barely able to get out from under it.”

Feeling woozy, Shouto has to close his eyes for a moment to keep the pain from escaping through his mouth. There’s a sickening crack, and he realizes he’s cradled in your arms whenever you whimper and pull him closer, so that his head is resting against your chest and you’re basically hovering over him. He hears rubble begin to hit to ground, and sees you flinch as some small bits of gravel bounce off your head and fall beside him. Your eyes are clenched shut, and a fresh line of blood runs down your face and drips onto his own. No rubble ever hits him.

He’s confused. Why is a civilian, a hurt one at that, putting their life at risk for a pro hero? He’s supposed to be protecting you, yet here you are shielding him with your soft body. He must make a noise, because suddenly you’re looking down at him again, eyes wide with concern, bravely holding back tears now that he is awake.

Softly, you move one of the hands you had cradling his head to wipe at the blood that has dripped onto his cheek. Apologizing quietly, you begin talking again, the almost whispers coming out of your mouth seemingly echoing through the space.

“Your walkie talkie still worked thankfully, for a little while. Deku is here, and so is Red Riot and Uravity. They should have us out of here in no time, so don’t worry ok! Dynamight is also here, but that’s more worrying than anything honestly.”

Shouto can’t help but laugh at your candor, wincing as it makes the pain throbbing through his body flash intensely. You pull him even closer in your lap, now petting his bangs soothingly. Your fingers are soft on his sweaty skin, and he almost purrs whenever you begin to trace the lines of his face in a mesmerizing manner. He doesn’t remember the last time he was comforted like this when he was hurt. Usually it’s himself alone in his untouched apartment, picking up the pieces and taping them back together. He can never quite get them to fit right.

“Are you hurt badly?” His gravely voice seems to surprise you, and quickly you shake your head. He sees you regret it instantly, as you wince harshly afterwards.

“Just my head, and my leg. But not nearly as bad as you are.”

Another crack shoots through the space, and you look up worryingly at the unsteady beams ominously hanging about you. Shouto can see them looming when the light flickers on again. He can also see you. You look a little rough, he’s not going to lie. But at this moment, he doesn’t think he’s seen anyone more beautiful. His own personal angel, sent to comfort him and protect him when he’s been hurt so badly he can’t move.

You make quiet conversation after that, trying to ignore the drips and the cracks. He learns that you’re an ordinary boring office worker, your words not his, but you like your job and your coworkers so it’s not that bad. You learn that Deku has been his best friend since their first year at U.A., and that friendship is still just as strong. He learns that you don’t particularly care for cold soba whenever he brings it up, which makes him look at you in mock horror. It’s funny, seeing the normally stoic hero make such an exaggerated face that you can’t help but giggle.

The conversation dies down after a sickening pop! is heard and suddenly sunlight blinds you both. Looking up, you see shocking red hair and sharp teeth grinning at you and feel relief course through your body. Shouto feels your body relax against his, though you don’t let go. Red Riot reaches for you, but you shake your head again.

“Take Shouto, take Shouto.”

As he is lifted from your arms and into his friends, he sees you smile at him tearfully and give him a little wave. He can see you fully now, and can also see how your leg is bent at such an unnatural angle it had to be agonizing for you, but he never once heard you complain. The last thing he sees before you’re out of sight is Bakugo lifting you into his arms, with a surprising gentleness, saying something that has you nodding before you rest your head on his bare shoulder, relieved tears flooding from your eyes.

A couple days later, as Shouto is scrolling aimlessly through his phone in his hospital bed, he sees a headline that makes him stop.

PRO HERO SHOUTO KEEPS CIVILIAN SAFE WHILE TRAPPED UNDER COLLAPSED BUILDING!

Thinking of your eyes, which so bravely stared into his own, he can’t help but disagree with the article. It was you who kept him safe.

#mat’s writing #shouto #my hero academia #shouto todoroki #shouto x reader #bnha shouto #mha shouto #shouto x you #shouto x y/n #my hero academia headcanons #my hero acedamia #my hero academia fanfiction #mha fanfiction #mha x reader #mha angst #my hero imagines #my hero academy fanfiction #my hero x reader #shouto angst

[seonghwaddict]

in your arms — choi san

request by @sankatchu. “Just saw ur seonghwa angst and it absolutely destroyed my heart but since I am a wreck for angst could you write the most heart breaking angst (with a happy ending bc as much as I love it I can’t deal with no comfort 😍) for my man sannn &lt;3 ?”

pairing. choi san x reader. genre. heavy angst, comfort. warnings. argument, car crash, injury description, a lot of crying, hospitalisation, pet name (my love). wc. 1117 words. (i would usually write 1.1k but this was too cute sorry not sorry).

[ listening to . . . ] lovememore. by dosii.

　　　　　　　　　main masterlist

your whole world shattered within a day and there’s nothing you’ll regret more than letting it happen. it was a day like any other, but soon enough small irritations that accumulated over the course of months finally snapped and caused an argument with your boyfriend and the love of your life, choi san.

the relationship you two had was always very loving and despite being together for nearly a year, you were proud to say you never had any serious fights with him. until today, you supposed. there wasn’t really a point to the argument but you figured he must’ve been stressed from work—comebacks were always a bit hectic—and neither of you had been getting much sleep.

“just stop being so selfish and so self-righteous and leave me be for a seco-”

“get out.”

his anger faltered for just a moment before it was back, much more visible than before; his shoulders tensed and his fists clenched. “what?”

“i said get out. you said you wanted me to let you be, so leave. get out and come back when you’re ready to talk this through properly.”

The subject of it didn’t really matter anyway and you couldn’t even remember everything that was said, just the way your heart shattered when he walked out of your apartment with a slam of the front door behind him. even though the sadness of it all hit you as soon as he was gone, your rage never settled. how dare he talk to you so harshly? san was a painfully soft man—gentle words and tender touches. you’d never seen him like that.

san wasn’t sure where to go at first, but soon enough he was in his car, driving down the nearly empty streets at one in the morning and heading to the dorms he shared with his members. buildings rushed past him and soon enough his rigid posture relaxed, his hands on the steering wheel loosening as he sighed deeply. he contemplated turning the car around to go back and apologise, but before he could he felt the air being knocked out of his lungs as the screech of tired ripped through the air.

for a moment everything was silent, san’s ears ringing as he slowly started to figure out his bearings. the car was flipped sideways as his left shoulder was pressed against the shattered glass of the window and the concrete of the ground. his thoughts were slow, a sluggish attempt to keep him awake as he tried to move his limbs. he ignored any injuries he had, his hand reaching for his very cracked phone as he called the first person that came to mind. you.

but you didn’t pick up.

so he left you a voicemail, the high pitch of sirens already approaching in the background. with a final “i love you” he ended the message, coughing just after as he clicked his seatbelt off and slumped against the ground. after a few more breaths, he let his eyes close.

you were positively hysterical once you finally listened to the voicemail, hot tears running down your cheeks as you rushed to the nearest hospital that they must’ve taken him to. after talking to the receptionist and figuring out where his room was, you burst inside the room and stopped in your tracks.

his members were there, looking pale scattered around the room in varying states of distress, but you barely registered them as your heart sank. there were a few cuts and bruises blossoming on the sharp features of his face, a small plaster taped on his forehead. his left shoulder was wrapped in bandages as well as his right wrist. someone hugged you tightly as they cried into your shoulder, you didn’t really care who, though you figured it was wooyoung judging by the familiar smell, but your eyes stayed fixated on the unconscious, fragile body of san, the monitor next to him beeping at a steady pace. 

once he let go of you and told you they had to leave for schedules since the company didn’t want fans to worry too much, you took some tentative steps to the hospital bed. even though he looked quite beaten up, he still had that tenderness about him. with a frown and small furrow to your eyebrows, you let your fingers trace of the scratched on his hand.

before you knew it, you were sitting on chair you pulled next to the bed, holding onto his hand for dear life as you laid your head on his lap, not caring that your tears were staining the pristine white blanket. eventually, you fell asleep like that.

the next morning you stirred awake, a familiar hand brushing through your hair. a small noise leaving your lips as you turned your head and looked up. suddenly you had the energy of five redbulls as you jumped up and embraced him tightly, ignoring the fact you were probably suffocating him as tears began streaming again.

“i’m s-so so sorry, are you okay?” you told him through sobs and sniffles, “god, i’m so stupid and you’re right, i’m selfish and i should’ve just shut up, t-this is all my fault.”

san lifted his right hand to pat your arm gently before grasping it and pulling you away from him with the same slowness. as your tearful eyes looked into his strikingly soft ones, his hand moved so he could wipe away your tears. “i’m okay, none of this is your fault. i never meant a single word i said, you’re not selfish and fuck i would never want you to shut up. i should be the one apologising, my love.”

you lips trembled as you nodded slowly. “b-but if i never made you leave this wouldn’t have happened, it is my fault.”

“whatever happened, happened. please, don’t beat yourself up over this.” he pulled you close to him and his lips pressed heartfelt kisses to your hair as you buried your face in his uninjured shoulder, one on the nape of your neck and the other rubbing your back. “it’s okay, i’m okay, love.”

“i should be the one comforting you.” 

he chuckled and moved his hand from your neck to your cheek, guiding you to face him before leaning up to press his lips against yours. it was a firm kiss, wordless reassurance that he knew you needed as you melted against him and pressed yourself closer. his lips left yours too soon for your liking as he pressed more fluttering kisses on your cheeks, stopping your tears in the tracks, leaning back as he pressed one last kiss to the tip of your nose.

“i already find comfort in your arms.”

　　[ lilo's notes ... ] this ended up being a lot sadder than i intended but i hope you like it sankatchu!! writing angst is honestly so much fun but sometimes my heart can’t take it

　　[ network ... ] @cromernet @blankjournal

　　[ perm taglist ... ] @ad0rechuu @sankatchu

#cromernet #bjnet #san x reader #san imagines #san scenarios #san headcanons #san reactions #san fluff #san angst #ateez x reader #ateez angst #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez reactions #ateez headcanons #yandere ateez #ateez fluff #ateez soft hours #ateez soft thoughts #ateez soft asks #ateez smau

[florence-end]

Wake Up Call

Azriel x reader

Request: Could you write a story where reader has a nightmare and Azriel hears her screaming for him then the mating bond snaps for him.

Summary: You have been having nightmares every night since the battle against Hybern, and more often than not you wake up having winnowed to Azriel’s door. You don’t know why your subconscious always brings you here, until one night you cross the threshold and wake up to hazel eyes looking back at you.

Warnings: slightly graphic description of battlefields, an almost-panic attack

You woke up just in time to see the familiar surroundings of your bedroom disappear into darkness, and a large oak door appear before you. Luckily you were just about conscious enough to avoid slamming into it although your feet landed with quite a considerable thud. The sounds, sights and smells of battle faded away with every second you took to gather yourself and remember that it was all a dream but your heart continued to race beneath your ribs, sweat gathering on your brow. Because it had all been very real and you knew the memories would haunt you for a long time.

On the other side of the door, Azriel stood as still and quiet a statue, not even allowing his shadows to ebb and flow as they usually did. He wasn’t sure why you winnowed to the hallway outside his bedroom more nights than not, but the first time, when he had thrown open the door in alarm due to the scent of your fear, you had been so utterly mortified that he didn’t want to embarrass you by discovering you again. He’d spoken to Rhys who explained you struggled with nightmares more vivid than most of your found family, but couldn’t offer an explanation for why you always appeared at Azriel’s door.

You weren’t sure yourself why your subconscious mind brought you here before you could fully pull yourself out of your night terrors but you were grateful every time that Azriel didn’t seem to know you were there after your pathetic half mumbled excuses the first time.

As your heart rate slowed and you got a hold on your powers, you winnowed back to your bedroom for a bath. Azriel heard you leave and went back to bed, feeling just as guilty as every night before.

Twenty four hours later, the nightmare returned but something was different.

The war is raging on. Hybern’s forces are decimating Prythian’s armies. Fallen allies are lying all around you and you can’t move fast enough to help them all. The Illyrian legions swarm the skies overhead.

You hear Nesta screaming for Cassian who lands next to her just before an explosion of power is unleashed from behind Hybern’s line, obliterating every winged warrior above the battle ground. You thank whatever gods are listening that Azriel is safely at the camp as you watch in horror. It’s only then that you see the blue siphons amid the falling bodies.

No, it can’t be him.

You run towards where the siphons should have landed, getting more and more bloody as you wade through the field. Once you get there, you know immediately. That familiar dark hair and tan skin shrouded by swirling shadows.

Those glassy unseeing hazel eyes.

You woke with a gasp and find yourself looking into those same eyes, now alight with panic and concern.

“Don’t be scared, you’ve winnowed to my bedroom. You’re safe here and it was just a dream,” Azriel soothed, his voice soft and deep.

Instead of finding yourself in the hallway, he was right. You had winnowed straight into the shadowsinger’s bedroom and found yourself sprawled on the luxurious carpet as he hovered above you.

You immediately averted your eyes as you sat up, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. “I’m so sorry. It must have happened while I was asleep, I know you like your privacy and would never want to barge in like this. You were probably sleeping when I just appeared. Gods this is so embarrassing, I’m going to go,” you rambled as you tried to gain enough control of your shaky legs to get to your feet.

“Woah sweetheart, it’s okay just take a second. I’m not upset, I was actually waiting for you,” Azriel admitted as he rested his hands gently on your shoulders to keep you in place.

“What?”

“Usually I just wait by the door for your scent to go back to normal and then you return to your room but it’s nice to see you’re alright with my own two eyes this time,” he explained, moving to sit down across from you.

You were so mortified by this point that you didn’t think you’d ever be able to look him in the eye again. Your breathing was still too shallow and you could feel a panic attack rising as the adrenaline from your nightmare refused to leave your system.

“I promise everything is fine but you need to take some deep breaths, sweetheart. Can you look at me please?” Azriel pleaded.

You forced yourself to look up into his wildly handsome face, and as your eyes met, it was like everything stopped.

Your heart rate slowed, your breathing calmed, your racing thoughts ceased to exist. The only thing you could think, feel, remember in that moment was the warm golden thread that buzzed to life, irrevocably connecting your soul to the male in front of you for the rest of time.

“My mate,” Azriel whispered, his hand pressed to the centre of his chest.

Neither of you spoke for some time after that, adjusting to the flood of emotions running up and down the bond. You realised at one point that you were holding hands with no recollection of when that happened but you knew that Azriel’s skin against yours felt more right than any touch you had felt in all your life.

Eventually you let out a yawn, and despite your attempts to stifle it, your newfound mate couldn’t stand the thought of you being in any way uncomfortable. So he scooped you up and placed you on his ginormous bed. Crawling over you to his side before pulling you into his chest, he pressed his lips to the crown of your head. “Everything is going to be okay now,” he whispered into your hair. “I’m going to look after you.”

You burrowed further into his warm body, trusting his words entirely.

“No more nighttime winnowing though, if I find you outside Cassian’s door I might get jealous.”

“Guess I’ll just have to sleep here then so you’ll know if I disappear,” you joked through another yawn.

“You won’t find me complaining,” he whispered back.

The last thing you feel before drifting into a restful sleep is a dark wing draping across your body.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I don’t know if I like the writing in this one but I hope it’s kinda what you had in mind! Thank you for your request🫶

#acotar fanfiction #acotar #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel x you

[fluentmoviequoter]

Undo It

Pairing: David 'Deacon' Kay x fem!SWAT!reader

Summary: You get abducted on your way home and won't talk to anyone after you're saved. Deacon vows to undo all the damage done to you.

Warnings: angst, descriptions of injury/threats/torture, SWAT!reader is abducted and held hostage, Deacon gets very protective, fluff.

Word Count: 5.2k+ words

A/N: One scene in this is inspired by Criminal Minds episode "Riding the Lightning" (1x14). I also don't know how to play poker, so I kinda rushed through that. This is completely self-indulgent; the idea came to my mind while watching season 3 of SWAT and I had to write it. Hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think! :)

Picture from Pinterest

“Two more women have been reported missing from central Los Angeles. The Los Angeles Police Department has not yet commented on whether the recent missing persons reports – of which there have been sixteen in as many days – are connected.”

Deacon mutes the television as Hicks enters. 

“They’re all over us,” Hicks mutters. “But that’s not why I’m here. We got an anonymous tip from one of Luca’s neighbours. There’s a drug buy going down around the corner from his house. You up for it?”

“Who called in the tip? Same guy as last week?” Luca interjects.

“Probably.”

“We’re in. Worst-case scenario, it’s another false alarm,” Hondo says.

“That’s the worst-case scenario?” you repeat. “What’s your idea of a good case scenario, walking into the middle of a drug buy?”

“My arrest record is lookin’ a little thin. Let’s roll,” Hondo teases, patting your shoulder as he walks by.

You roll your eyes, smiling at Deacon as you fall in line behind him. Deacon puts himself on your team for the breach, and you find yourself tucked behind him as he enters a bedroom.

“L.A.P.D., on the ground!” he yells.

You follow him in, placing handcuffs on the two men inside. Hondo and Tan clear the other side of the house while Chris and Street enter from the back. No other suspects are inside, but there is a bathroom filled with drugs.

“Looks like you forgot to flush,” Hondo taunts as he raises a small plastic bag.

Once back in Black Betty, you remove your helmet and lean against Deacon’s side. You keep your head up, and the touch isn’t visible to Tan or Chris across from you, but Deacon welcomes it.

“Need a ride home?” Deacon asks as he offers a hand while you exit Black Betty.

“No, I’m going to walk. I could use the air. Thank you though,” you reply.

“It’s getting late,” Deacon argues.

“I’ll be okay, I promise, Deac.”

Deacon watches you go and considers following you to ensure you get home safe, yet when you promise to call Chris when you get home, he decides he’ll text you later to confirm everything is alright.

✯✯✯✯✯

The last block separating you from your house seems darker than usual. Speeding up, you reach for your back pocket to pull your phone out. None of your team members would mind staying on the phone until you get home, but your mind immediately goes to Deacon. He’d not only answer but probably be in his car before you finished telling him you were concerned or uneasy. Once your phone is in your hand, you watch as someone steps out of the shadows.

“Evening,” you mutter, nodding once as you step to the side.

“It’s a good one now,” he responds. “I’m Matt.”

You ignore him, but when his hand wraps around your arm, you turn quickly, throwing a punch against his jaw.

“Oh, I told you she’d put up a fight,” a second voice says before two hands land on you from behind.

“Night, night,” Matt says, holding his face as a cloth is pressed to your face.

You fight until everything goes dark, and as your head drops, you see your phone on the sidewalk. You know that Deacon will save you… or die trying.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Hey, Chris,” Deacon says as he answers the phone.

Chris says your name, sounding out of breath, before continuing, “Have you heard from her?”

“No. I offered to drive her home, but she wanted to walk. Why?”

“She didn’t call like she said she would. She always calls. And now she’s not answering my calls.”

Deacon takes a deep breath, rubbing his jaw as he attempts to deduce where you could be.

“Something’s wrong,” Chris adds.

“I know, I know. Call the team; I’ll drive by her house and meet you there. Hey, Chris,” he waits for her to hum to finish, “we’ll find her.”

Deacon is at your house faster than usual, slowing as he drives past your driveway. A small light is evident on the sidewalk, the only evidence of life in a strip without a streetlight. He parks, jumping out to run across the road and pick it up. 

“No,” he whispers, looking at your phone. 

What makes finding your phone abandoned on the side of the road worse, he thinks, is that his contact is open. You tried to call him, and based on the new crack across the screen, you needed help. You needed Deacon, and he wasn’t here.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Find anything?” Chris asks when Deacon walks in.

“Her phone,” Deacon answers, laying your phone on the table. “It was unlocked, lying on the sidewalk less than a block from her house.”

“The light-less dead zone?” Luca guesses.

Deacon nods, his jaw tightening as he confirms. He should have insisted on driving you home or been on the phone talking to you the whole time.

“I should’ve just gone with her,” Chris mutters.

“Don’t do that,” Street says, “we had no way of knowing something would happen. Any one of us could be blamed for this, but that won’t help us find her.”

Hondo nods but doesn’t say anything before Hicks rushes in.

“I didn’t see it until now,” he mumbles, opening the computer. “I don’t know how we missed it.”

20-David watches as he navigates to the missing persons' page, a collection of women gathered at the top. Hicks opens the most recent reports, and Chris exhales a sharp sigh.

“They are connected,” she says.

“Yeah,” Hicks answers. “Somehow, we missed the physical appearance connection. Our guys were so interested in the victimology that they probably never even looked at the pictures.”

“They look just like her,” Luca whispers. “It’s uncanny.”

“Do we have any ideas? Suspects? Leads?” Hondo asks. Hicks shakes his head, and Hondo slaps an open palm onto the table. “We can’t just sit here and do nothing!”

“I know that Hondo, but without an idea as to who, what, or why, we don’t have anything to go on. LA county is big, we can’t just start searching aimlessly.”

“First responders,” Deacon says, his eyes and his focus on the screen. “They all work as first responders. Firefighter, EMT, 911 operator. Every one of them. Where were they taken from?”

“Uh, within a mile of their homes,” Street reads. “Six of the six-seventeen, now, visited the Los Angeles county court to inquire about getting restraining orders.”

“Against?” Deacon asks.

Street clicks through the reports before looking up at Deacon. “Asher Nolan.”

“All six against the same guy,” Hondo begins, clicking his tongue, “that’s a lead.”

“I’ll get a warrant,” Hicks says, turning toward his office.

Deacon watches as your picture is added to their list. He knows the team only has 24 hours to find a real lead, or they risk never seeing you again.

“Don’t, Deacon,” Hondo says lowly, standing beside Deacon. “It’s not our fault, not your fault."

 “I offered to drive her home, tried to insist, but she promised she would be safe.”

“You didn’t know, Deac, you couldn’t have helped her.”

“I could have!” Deacon drops his voice, looking away from your picture to admit, “She tried to call me. When I found her phone, my contact was open. If she had pressed it, or if I had called sooner, she might have been okay.”

“She will be.”

“She better.”

Deacon walks out, unable to look at your smiling face any longer. Hicks comes back quickly with a warrant, and Deacon tries to detach himself from the case. He can’t, not when it’s you.

✯✯✯✯✯

The clock in the room reads 11:58 p.m. It’s only been four hours since you left S.W.A.T. HQ, though it seems a distant memory. The door opens, and you are still against the bed you’re chained to. 

“You know, I miss when you would talk to me,” Matt says, laying his hand across your throat. “What happened? I know you help people, so help yourself.”

He laughs at his dumb act, amused by the fact that he knows why you fell silent. Your skin burns against his touch, and the cough you want to release feels trapped in your throat. Faint bruises are barely visible in the bright light, but you know that the marks they’ve left are deeper than any bruises that may appear. Assuming you survive, of course.

“Since you’re giving me to cold shoulder,” Matt adds, dragging his hand across your collarbone to rest on your shoulder, “maybe I should return the favor.”

His other hand raises, covered in an oven mitt, as he reaches into a cooler and removes a large chunk of dry ice. You pull your lower lip between your teeth, determined not to scream. The ice meets the bare skin of your shoulder, though you’re unsure when he moved your sleeve. Alternating between burning and freezing, stabbing pain, you fight to remain conscious.

“Functional lessons,” the second man muses as he walks in. “I like it.”

An alarm goes off, and Matt and the man whose name you’ve yet to learn walk out. The ice is left against the skin of your upper arm, melting too slowly against you and the bed. 

“I almost forgot,” Matt’s voice echoes before something pricks your arm and everything goes dark as the pain finally fades.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Cameras,” Street points out. “They know we’re here.”

“Then let’s show ‘em why,” Hondo says. “Chris, Tan, Luca, go right. Deacon, Street, you’re with me.”

When Deacon feels Street touch his shoulder, he lays his hand on Hondo’s. He wants to get in and get you out as quickly as possible. Many things could happen, too many variables, but Deacon is prepared to risk his life to save yours.

“Gun,” Hondo calls, pushing back against Deacon as they enter a hallway.

“Took you long enough. When my buddy said LAPD was incompetent, I didn’t realise I’d be able to get so much done before you found me,” Matt calls.

“Let’s talk about this,” Hondo yells. “There’s a chance to walk away from this.”

“You mean like Abby?” a second voice joins.

“24-David,” Chris’s voice crackles through the radio, “We got eyes on one.”

“30-David, we have eyes on one east of the front door,” David replies.

“Abby didn’t walk away, though,” Matt says before laughing.

“Neither did Chelsea, or Bailey.”

“Or that pretty little officer. They saved everyone except themselves.”

Deacon closes his eyes, taking a deep breath to stay calm when they bring you up.

“See, that’s where you messed up,” Hondo announces. “You took one of us. Surrender and maybe the DA will work with you, find the other girls and get a reduced sentence.”

“Or, what? Go down in a blaze of fire? Better than ice.”

Hondo peeks around the corner, aiming his weapon. “Last chance, Asher. Put the gun down.”

“Asher? Oh, you mean my boss. He said not to do that.”

Matt raises his gun, and Hondo takes the chance to fire. He rushes out while Deacon covers him.

“Where is she?” Hondo demands as he presses a hand to Matt’s wound, kicking his gun away.

“Frozen by now.”

Matt’s eyes close, and Hondo gestures toward the other hallway as he radios that one of the suspects is down. Deacon nods, leading Street into the hallway.

“Clear,” Deacon says, exiting a bedroom.

“Closet only,” Street informs, opening a door on the other side.

Deacon opens the last door and lowers his gun to his side before he rushes into the room. Street turns in the doorway, covering him.

“24-David, the second suspect is down. It’s not Asher,” Chris radios.

Street turns into the room, joining Deacon by the bed.

“Is that-“

“Dry ice,” Deacon finishes as he knocks it onto the floor.

He removes his glove to find your pulse, elevated but steady. Your skin is colder than it should be, and you don’t respond to Deacon’s prodding or whispered pleads.

“C’mon, come back to us,” Deacon tries again.

“Ambulances are here,” Street says.

You jerk harshly, and Deacon rolls onto the bed, raising you into a fireman’s carry before navigating through the hallways. He feels you continue moving against him, but all he can do is get you help and pray. 

“We’ve got her,” the EMT says, helping to lower you onto the gurney. “Hit the sirens.”

“I’m coming with,” Deacon says, climbing into the ambulance.

Hicks appears at the door. “Go. She needs you, Deacon. Keep us updated.”

“Narcan?” one EMT suggests.

“No, at least not yet.” The ambulance lurches into motion as they strap an oxygen mask over your face. “Brain, I think, not drugs.”

They glance toward Deacon, who says, “I’m a trained medic, I get it. Just do your jobs, please.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Deacon paces the waiting room for nearly an hour before sitting in a chair and letting his head hang toward his knees.

“Sergeant Kay?” a nurse asks.

Deacon’s head snaps up as he stands.

“The doctor is in her room now. Wants to talk to you.”

Deacon is silent as he walks down the hallways to reach your room. When he enters, seeing you hooked up to several machines and your arm wrapped tightly, his breath catches.

“I’m David Kay – Deacon,” he introduces, shaking the doctor’s hand.

“She owes you her life, Sergeant Kay. Much longer and the frostbite would have been incredibly severe.”

“And the tests?”

The doctor sighs, looking over at you before answering. “Yes, we ran several tests. MRI, CAT scan, and a few others. Her brain isn’t responding like it should.”

“Will she regain consciousness?” Deacon interrupts, his focus aimed at final answers.

“As far as I can tell, yes, sir, she will. When I say not responding like it should, I suppose I should reword. Her brain is responding, there’s no sign of a lack of oxygen or direct brain damage, but she may never recover fully, and will likely never be the same as the woman she was before. Her brain waves aren’t behaving like a woman of her age and health should be.”

“Thank you.” 

Deacon shakes his hand and moves to the corner of your room, typing a short text to Hicks: Get down here when you can. This will be easier in person.

He knows it sounds like you’re dying, but the idea of never having the real you back seems just as dire.

✯✯✯✯✯

Your eyes blink open slowly against the harsh fluorescent lights. A man is standing above you, and you jerk backwards, pulling against the chain on your hand and the unseen weight holding you down. Prepared to defend yourself, you move to the edge of the bed and let the adrenaline numb your pain while fueling your fight.

“Doc, take a step back for me, please,” Deacon says calmly.

When you hear Deacon’s voice, your guard drops slightly, and your shoulders lose some tension as you locate Deacon. You watch Deacon while the doctor stops beside him, whispering something on his way out.

“She’s not herself, just try to give her space and time. Like I said, this may be temporary, or it may be her new normal,” the doctor reminds Deacon, unheard by you.

The hand that you pulled away from the doctor moves jerkily toward Deacon, and he glances down at your hand and the IV you ripped out. He turns and waves to a female nurse. He stands by your bed, and you watch him, tensing as the nurse touches you to insert a new IV.

“Do you want to be alone?” Deacon asks when the nurse exits.

You don’t speak or nod, but your hand moves closer to Deacon. He smiles, taking it as a yes, before sitting in the chair beside your bed. Deacon knows the doctors’ concern but would do anything to hear your voice again.

When a doctor walks by, you lean harshly against the rail on your bed, and Deacon realises you are uncomfortable around men. Although, for some unexpected reason, you seem fine with him. Deacon stands and closes the blinds on your window, and when it feels like he is the only other person in the world, you fall asleep. Deacon is concerned that you’ll be nervous around him, too, when you wake. Later, when you do wake, your eyes find him, and your body stays relaxed, proof that your relationship with Deacon was not impacted by whatever those monsters did to you.

He looks down at his phone to read a message from Hondo: We got a warrant and a location for Asher. You in?

Deacon apologises as he tells you he has to go. “The team is going after him, and I want to be there. I promise I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

You don’t respond, but Deacon taps the edge of your bed as he leaves, only inches from your fingers. While he’s gone, you don’t sleep. The night passes, and by mid-day, when you’ve gone a whole day, 24 hours, without sleep, the nurses give you a dose of melatonin to help you relax. You drift off, falling asleep against your will, and your mind goes to Deacon.

✯✯✯✯✯

Deacon is still gone when you wake, but there’s a computer sitting in the chair he previously occupied. You pull it onto the bed, catching the SD card that slides off the top. After you insert the chip and see only one video on it, you start it after looking out the door.

It’s the men who took you, Matt and the other one, standing over you, threatening you before growing bold enough to carry out some of their threats. When they start touching your throat and talking about your voice, you slam the computer closed and rip the memory card out.

Standing from the bed, you pull the IV cart with you to the cabinet. Your tattered clothes are still in the patient's belongings bag, but someone also brought your backpack from S.W.A.T. HQ. You look out the door again before changing and stay close to the heart rate monitor and IV cart. Once dressed and ready, you duck beside the door, waiting for a large enough group to walk by. When one appears, you rip your IV and pulse-ox off, falling into step behind them. You walk out unnoticed and set out without a real destination in mind. Sticking to the shadows, you find yourself in a familiar neighbourhood.

✯✯✯✯✯

When your heart rate plummets, the machine beeps, and several nurses abandon their stations to run into your room. They check the bathroom and the far side of the bed before finding your commander’s phone number.

“Hicks,” he answers.

“Commander Hicks, she’s gone.”

Hicks hangs up on the nurse but walks into the room less than ten minutes later. He looks through everything, noticing that your bag is gone and your IV was ripped out intentionally. Hoping to find something before your team comes back, Hicks opens the computer on your bed. While Hicks is searching, Deacon walks in with a small bag of your favourite snacks and a book to pass the time. 

“Calm down, Deac, we’re gonna get answers,” Hicks begins.

“Where is she?” Deacon demands.

“I don’t know. The nurses called as soon as her heart rate stopped tracking, so she can’t be more than thirty minutes ahead of us.”

“I’m going to find her.”

“Deacon, stay with me. We’ll call in the team and-“

“I can’t; I think I need to be alone for now.”

Deacon leaves, setting the bag in his passenger seat and wishing it were you instead. He’s lost you twice in the last few days, and once he finds you, he will do everything in his power to keep you close forever.

Walking into his house, Deacon slows when he sees a pair of shoes under the rose bush in his front yard. He pulls his gun and demands the person come out slowly.

You slide toward him with your hands up and your eyes on him rather than his gun. When he sees your face, he holsters his gun quickly and squats to your level.

“Can I touch you?” he asks quietly.

You give your first answer since waking in the hospital: you nod. 

Deacon helps you stand, keeping an arm around you as he leads you inside.

“Help yourself to anything, okay?” he offers as he closes the door. “You can shower, take clothes, whatever you need to be comfortable.”

You pull away from Deacon and disappear down his hallway. He hears the water turn on in his shower and pulls his phone out, his finger hovering over Hicks’ number before deciding to find out why you left the way you did. 

When you reemerge, with wet hair and dressed in Deacon’s clothes, you join him in the kitchen and stand closer to him than he expected. He sets two cups before you: a mug of your favourite tea and a glass of ice water.

“Are you hungry?” Deacon asks. You shake your head, and Deacon adds, “Hey, you’re in charge right now. Whatever you want, whatever you say, goes.”

You pick up one of the glasses and look toward the couch. Deacon chuckles as he picks up the other, placing a hand on your back and leading you to the couch. Once you sit, you keep your free hand in your lap as you drink. Deacon wants to take your hand, hold it, and tell you how sorry he is, but you aren’t ready, as far as he can tell.

Suddenly, though, you turn toward him, and he recognizes the look in your eyes, shaking his head and chuckling before he begins talking. His voice has always been soothing to you, his presence like a safe house. You fall asleep to the sound of his voice, and your head falls onto his shoulder.

Deacon remains perfectly still throughout the evening as the sun sets, unwilling to disturb you, even at the cost of his comfort. His phone begins ringing in the kitchen, and he moves out from under you to answer. You wake when you feel his absence, looking around until you find him.

“Hey, Commander,” Deacon greets. “Yeah, I know… I’m worried, yeah.”

You stand and walk away silently. Deacon watches you, staring down the empty hallway as he says goodbye to Hicks. 

Entering his bedroom, you find your backpack and pull the memory card out. You reappear with the small envelope containing it, and Deacon waits until you nod, wringing your fingers together, to take it. He finds his computer and inserts the card; his headphones are plugged in, and he decides to use them, unsure of what’s on the card.

Waiting, you stand beside the couch, holding your hands together. You can’t hear the video, but Deacon's facial expressions tell you which part he’s watching.

“Where’d all that fight go, huh?” Matt asks, pushing against your throat until you nearly lose consciousness.

You can’t fight back, and they’re enjoying it too much.

“You said one word and then nothing. What am I supposed to think? Maybe you don’t want to talk. Maybe you shouldn’t. That’s why we told the others. And we made sure they believed it before… well, you know.”

“They didn’t even scream,” the other man adds. “Silence is beautiful on women.”

“What if,” Matt begins, drawing a large blade from a case beside the bed. “We made sure you couldn’t talk again? Cops have to be able to use the radio, so at the least, we’ll know you can’t call for help.”

The blade lays against your throat, and your eyes close, silent but physically preparing to fight.

Deacon’s eyes slide to yours before returning to the screen briefly to close the computer. He moves to sit on the arm of the couch before you and looks up at you with big brown eyes. You want to talk to him so badly, but you can’t. Deacon raises his hands, and you don’t hesitate to lay yours in his. He rubs circles on the backs of your hands, your callouses and warmth melting together.

“Everything they said was wrong,” Deacon begins.

Deacon notices that you lean in toward him with each word he says. He stands slowly, concerned that his size or the proximity will overwhelm you, but you keep your hands in his and follow his eyes as he stands. With the new angle, Deacon can see the bruises forming around your neck, from your collarbone up to your jawline. Deacon’s hands raise to rest on your shoulders, bringing your hands along in his. His thumbs rest gently above your collarbone.

“What they said, what they did, was terrible.” And Deacon plans to undo every word and touch, even if it takes forever.

You lean into Deacon’s touch, trusting him with most of your weight as his phone rings again. He moves an arm around your shoulders, leaning back against the couch as he answers.

“Hicks. I only have a minute. She’s here, at my house. She’s safe… Yeah, I’ll keep an eye on her… See you then.”

“Thank you,” you whisper against Deacon’s chest, your voice rough after not using it.

His eyes widen as he wraps his other arm around you. “It’s no problem,” he promises.

You point to the bedroom, and Deacon nods before releasing you. He watches you walk away, and the echo of your voice wraps around him like a warm blanket.

✯✯✯✯✯

When Deacon rises for work the following morning, he has a message from Hicks inviting him to stay home with you if he needs or wants to. Walking into the kitchen, you’re standing in your own clothes with your backpack at your feet.

“Can I go with you?” you ask, voice barely audible.

Deacon doesn’t have the heart to tell you no, so he takes you back to work. As he walks to the car, he texts the team a quick heads-up that they may need to be quieter around you because you’ve been through a lot, and slow behaviour seems to be the key to making you comfortable. He hopes your new unease around men doesn’t extend to the other men who saved your life.

The team tries to follow Deacon’s advice, but when you hear an obnoxious yell from a beat cop, you tuck behind Deacon and grab his fingers. 20-David knew you had feelings for Deacon but seeing him be your safe space like this is a whole new element for them to witness.

✯✯✯✯✯

You, Deacon, and Hondo are watching Hicks interview Asher Nolan. They can’t tie him to any of the abductions, but he seems to know too much about some of the other women who were taken. Hicks is getting nowhere and is ready to walk out.

“I’ll go in,” you tell Hondo. “But only if you come with me,” you add quietly, looking at Deacon.

“She only goes in if I go too,” Deacon adds protectively, looking at Hondo.

As you walk in, Asher’s eyes find you.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he croons.

“Don’t look at her,” Deacon snaps.

Asher’s eyes move to Deacon long enough to ask, “Do you ever smile?”

 “No.”

“Well, you should be with someone who smiles, sweetheart. Come closer and I’ll show you how nice my smile is,” he tells you.

“Tell us where the other women are,” Deacon demands.

“Oh, that kind of information needs to be earned, don’t you think? I have an idea, though, we play poker. You win, and I tell you what you want to know.”

“And if I win?”

“I get to smell her hair,” Asher answers, staring at you.

“No deal.”

You know you need the evidence. Finding the other women is the key to getting a conviction.

“Okay,” you say.

Looking over at Deacon, you hope your look conveys your thoughts: ‘Please win.’

You look at Deacon’s hand, hiding your smile when he tucks a card behind another to disguise his winning hand. The moment Asher shows his cards, asking you to come to his side, you let your lips raise slightly.

“Oh, looks like I missed a card,” Deacon deadpans, revealing his royal straight flush, all spades.

Asher slaps the table, his handcuffs creating a sharp echo. Deacon stands, and you follow, standing behind him.

“Mulholland Drive, by the dam,” Asher admits. As Deacon approaches the door, he says, “I’ll find a better place for you; the best for the last.”

Deacon tries to lunge for Asher, but you step between them and push Deacon out of the interview room. 

“Thank you. For winning and keeping him away from me,” you whisper, your hands still pressed against Deacon’s chest.

“I’ll always protect you.”

Hicks steps out, asking to speak to Deacon, and you nod before walking the other way. Deacon meant it, and you know he will do anything to protect you.

✯✯✯✯✯

You enter the locker room, surprised to find it empty. Sitting on the bench before your locker, you drop your head into your hands. The quiet is nice but also allows your thoughts and memories to run rampant. One thought of Deacon silences the dangerous and painful thoughts, and you will your mind to remember what it was like to be held by him.

Deacon finds you waiting alone in the locker room and moves silently to join you. He sits beside you, and you turn toward him, taking his hand and tracing his fingers.

Your touch is magnetic, and Deacon never wants to let you go. 

“I- I know you watched the video, but I want to talk about it. If that’s okay,” you begin, looking at Deacon’s hand.

“Of course.”

“They told me to stop talking, not to scream, and I listened. I’m sure they were lying, but they made me believe that last girl, Melissa, was still alive, so I thought – hoped – that if I listened, they’d let her live. Focus all of their time and energy on me, you know. Then they started touching my neck and pressuring me to talk. When I didn’t they started hurting me, choking me and laying knives across my neck before leaving.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know Hicks was at the hospital and found the computer, and I don’t know if they recorded it, but they threatened to pull my vocal cords out and put the knife in my mouth. Talking just- it felt like I was betraying her, I guess, even after I knew they were in custody.”

Deacon moves to his knees in front of you, keeping your hand in his as his other hand raises to cup your jaw. He ducks his head and kisses your neck, wiping away the memories of their touch with each gentle movement. When he reaches your jaw, you lower your chin and meet his lips, kissing him.

He knows this is real, not just something to distract you. He doesn’t, however, know that you know that, too. You have loved Deacon for a long time, and…

“Thinking of you kept me alive. You kept me alive, Deacon. I’ve been in love with you for years and being away from you made me realize just how much. I never want to be away from you again,” you confess, holding his hand and heart.

Deacon knows you will be uncomfortable around men for a while, but never around him. He vows to continue his mission of undoing their words and actions, but he will love every version of you along the way.

“They found Melissa, she’s still alive,” Hicks announces in the doorway.

As the door closes, Deacon kisses you again. You saved Melissa, he saved you, and now he knows it.

#david deacon kay x reader #david kay x reader #deacon kay x reader #david deacon kay #deacon kay #swat cbs #fem!reader

[kaziwi]

Hii! I love your writings very much! For the event prompt.. number 3 with Smoker? 🥺

YAYYYY SMOKER REQUESTTTT thank you sm for requesting him i was so scared no one was gonna

Link to Event

"You're heavy..."

Character(s): Smoker

WC: 778

If someone told you this morning you'd be carrying Vice Admiral Smoker on your back, you would have laughed in their face.

You weren't laughing now.

Earlier today Smoker had gotten a report that there were some pirates who robbed a marine based that wasn't too far from where the G-5 was sailing. They had stolen some important documents and weapons, and Smoker was determined to stop them. After finding the island, there was an all out battle between the pirates and the G-5. Being the G-5, you of course won, but after the battle was over no one could find Smoker. Tashigi ordered everyone to split up and search the island, and you had been the lucky one to find him. Apparently he had been hit with a sea stone bullet from one of the weapons the pirates stole. It was funny at first, seeing the Vice Admiral flopped on the ground like a fish, but when he suggested you carry him back, you got quiet fast.

And that's how you ended up in this situation.

"Could you maybe go a little faster..." Smoker groaned weakly on your back. It was hard to move when he was much heavier than you. Him being like 1000 feet tall and having the biggest, heaviest muscles in the world didn't help.

"I'm trying here," you hissed, "It's not as easy as it looks..."

Smoker was usually a calm man, but this was a very different circumstance. He wasn't trying to sound rude, but he needed to get back to the rest of the G-5 as quick as possible. He needed to know if any of his men were hurt and if they had lost anybody. There was no time to waste.

Unbeknownst to him, you had hurt your ankle while in the battle. It wasn't too bad at first, so you didn't mention it, but after carrying him and putting weight on your ankle, it was starting to get to you.

After a few more minutes of walking, you couldn't take it anymore. You slowly lowered him down, propping him up against a tree while you laid down on the mountain floor.

"Why'd you stop," Smoker yelled, "We need to get back to the ship, the rest of the men need me." If he didn't have a sea stone bullet in him right now, he'd pick you up and run back to the ship, but he was too weak to even clench his fist.

You on the other hand were dying. Not actually, but it felt like it. Your ankle felt like someone had dropped a 10000 pound weight on it and you were still exhausted from the earlier battle. You slowly turned your head to Smoker and croaked out, "You're heavy..."

Smoker didn't know why, but hearing the rasp of your voice, made him look past his worry for the rest of the G-5. He finally took in you appearance, your exhaustion, and most importantly your ankle, which look like a bone was basically sticking out of it.

"Shit..." he sighed, "Looks like we're both stuck here...no way you're moving anytime soon."

You wanted to retaliate, but you were too tired to do anything but pant.

Smoker looked defeated for a minute, till he remembered something.

"In my back pocket, there's a mini transponder snail, grab it we can call Tashigi."

You honestly did not want to move, but he did give you an order. You slowly crawled over to him and reached into his pocket. You picked up the snail and dialed Tashigi's number.

"SMOKER," you heard from the end of the other line, "ARE YOU OKAY?? WHERE ARE YOU??"

"Tashigi, calm down, I'm okay. I'm with Y/N, but we are both pretty beat up. How's everyone else?"

"Everyone else is fine sir, only minor injuries." You could almost see the weight being lifted off of Smoker's chest.

"We're gonna need some medics and a stretcher, so try to find us as quick as possible.." Smoker gave a quick description of the area you both were in, and then ended the call.

"Help is coming soon, so just relax," the Vice Admiral stated. It was quiet again, the only sounds being the forest that surrounded you and your deep breaths. Smoker cleared his throat, looking a bit nervous, then spoke again.

"Thank you, for putting up with my persistence, I just wanted to make sure the rest of the men were alright," a pause, "and thank you for carrying me even though you were injured....you should be proud to call yourself a marine."

A warm smile crept on his face, and soon you followed.

"Anytime Vice Admiral."

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece headcanons #one piece scenario #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #strawhats #smoker x reader #smoker one piece #smoker op #smoker #roronoa zoro #monkey d luffy #luffy #straw hat pirates #one piece smoker #vinsmoke sanji #one piece marines #op marines

[blixssily]

"i love you, it's ruining my life."

| being bailed out by your ex is sure to bring back lingering feelings, no?

| dazai osamu x reader

˓ ꒱ notes and disclaimers: pm!reader and ada!dazai. dazai is reader's ex lover from the port mafia. gn reader. reader and dazai are both in their 20s. incorrect jail description. not proof read, apologies for any grammatical mistakes! might be incredibly ooc and might contain wrong information about the port mafia, apologies for both.

˓ ꒱ authors notes: in light of taylor swift's new album coming out, i'm trying my hand at writing for dazai!! i'm bad at writing angst so please bare with me. :(

the cold metal confinements are tight around wrists, the officers must've cuffed you a tiny bit too tightly you think. the blank grey walls of your prison are as uninspiring as your thoughts, you can't even find it in yourself to even try to escape from jail. to the majority of the members in the Port Mafia, crime was almost always a guarantee during missions. treading the lines of the law was a common thing, most missions included breaking those precious regulations. it was almost like the law had just become mere suggestions, guidance that you could choose to follow or not.

and sadly for you, the hands of the law had finally caught up with you this time, confining you into a bland concrete box. you were currently sitting on the bed that came with every little cell. not even sitting on it was comfortable, much less laying down on it. despite how uncomfortable the bed was, it would be quiet a pathetic sight for a Port Mafia executive to be sitting on the floor and just staring at the wall so you decided against it.

normally whenever you were unlucky enough to have been caught by the law, someone from the Port Mafia would bail you out, namely Mori or maybe some other executive. you weren't too surprised when an officer informed you that you had been bailed out, preparing your usual apology and to listen through a few lectures from whoever bailed you out on to be more careful during missions.

you're escorted out of your little concrete box, you wonder if the officer is going to remove the hand cuffs around your wrists. you follow the officer down the prison hallway, thankful to not be sitting on that god awful bed that you could've sworn was just a rock with a blanket draped over it. you're expecting to be met with a very displeased boss, preparing your apology for your clumsiness in being caught when.. you don't see him at all. in fact, you see someone you thought you'd never see again.

he looks.. different. he's grown taller, you're sure of it. he's been ridden of his usual black trench coat you always saw him in, his right eye and cheek no longer being covered by the fabric of gauze. instead, he's wearing a tan trench coat now, a bolo tie replacing his usual tie when he was in the Port Mafia. his hair messy and curly, not that it was ever neat, god no. you stare at the absence of bandages around his right eye and cheek, revealing his complete face and you can't help but mentally kick yourself for staring a little longer than necessary.

and suddenly, you become hyper aware of the sinking feeling in your stomach. it makes you sick to look at him, sick that your brain subconsciously forces you to relive your shared memories together. you avert your gaze down to the grey grounds of the prison lobby, unable to meet his gaze without glaring bitterly at him. your ex had apparently bailed you out of jail. your ex boyfriend from years ago when you both were in the Port Mafia. a cocky little smirk adorned his features, maybe he hasn't changed that much in some ways.

you find it in yourself to look up at him, emotions brewing behind your eyes. anger, confusion.. mostly anger, and yet you find it in your heart to feel relief at that fact that he's alright. that's he's not harmed. he had up and left without a word, not even a goodbye to you. you worried for him days on end, calling and texting but to no avail which ended up in you just calling it a breakup, calling him your ex boyfriend. despite the relief, it's minuscule in terms of your anger towards the man you once loved. you glare at him, glare at his stupid cocky smirk and how he seems like he doesn't even care about the history between you two. it's like nothing ever happened between the both of you.

"you're the one who bailed me out? what is this, some sick game you've decided to play?" you scoff at him, there was no way he just.. decided to bail out a Port Mafia executive out of the goodness of his heart, no.. no no no. that couldn't be true. "shame, not even a thank you?" you roll your eyes at his feigned sigh of disappointment. an officer releases your wrists from the metal confinements, red mark were already formed on your wrist. you bring your hands to your wrists, trying to soothe your irritated skin from how tight the hand cuffs were. you don't realise the look in his eyes, the slight change in his expression when he noticed the marks on your wrists. he doesn't like seeing you hurt, he absolutely hates seeing you in pain even if it's a mere scratch or.. in this situation, marks from a police officer's hand cuffs.

"come on now, the least you could do is thank me." he says with another cocky smile, you wish you could just slap it off his face but something tells you that he wouldn't exactly be ecstatic with you slapping his face in a police station.

"what do you want?" you snapped, not in any mood to be dealing with his teasing words accompanied by his usual shit-eating grin. he couldn't have bailed you out for fun, or for some sentimental reason. he wanted something, there was also a price when it came to him. "ah, how harsh! you're breaking my heart here.." the asshole has the gull to even jokingly suggest something like that.

"nothing much, really. just thought i'd help out an old friend." he hums, and you don't know if his words only spark a new flame of anger inside of you or if it wrenches your heart. the fact that he would consider you an "old friend", when you were his literal partner when you both were teenagers.

"an old friend? be a man you asshole, own up to who you broke up with." he doesn't answer, as expected. you're not sure whether you'd even prefer a response from him or just silence.

"let's talk, hm? maybe somewhere else?" he suggests after some time, calmly putting his hands into the pockets of his tan coat. you notice the slight change in expression in his face, you've spent years trying to practically decode this man and it only added to his amusement when you both were teenagers. now, you're thankful you took the time to observe him. you don't know exactly what he wants to talk about but, you know it's something serious.

"fine." you begrudgingly agree to him, sighing as you notice him leaving without another word and you know that's your queue to follow him. you don't know what you were expecting from the bandaged man, but he leads you to a little café. you raise an eyebrow at him when you two reach the front door, not exactly expecting him to take you to a cute little café that sells pastries and drinks. he meets your suspicions gaze with an innocent smile, urging you to step inside before him. what a gentleman. you step inside the humble establishment, greeted with a friendly smile by the cashier before settling into a seat near the back. he sits opposite you, it's almost as if he's treating this like you're his friend and you both are just going for lunch.

"so? you never answered my question." you reminded him, crossing your arms as you lean back on the plush backing of the seats. "what do you want, dazai." it hurts him the way you say his name, his surname. you never did that when you both were together, he liked being addressed as 'osamu' or 'samu' by you, it feels like salt being rubbed into the wound when you call him by his surname.

"oh? i'm deciding whether to get the latte or..." he trails off, noticing the most unamused expression ever on your face. he chuckles at the sight, shaking his head. "i'm only joking." he hums, stopping his little act at looking at the menu on the table. "i.. wanted to see how you were doing, is all." he shrugs, not really having a good explanation for bringing you to this cafe or hell, even bailing you out of jail. "i mean no harm by doing any of this, truly." he adds on before you get to question him, knowing what you were just about to ask him.

did he really mean that? that he wanted to just.. talk? you don't know what you should reply with, as a Port Mafia executive you should've killed him by now for being a traitor, but as his ex.. you're not sure what to feel. truthfully, sure you were pissed off at him for leaving without a word but you just couldn't find it in yourself to hate the man.

"fine, one hour."

"oh come on, two?" he pouts childishly, a sight you hadn't seen for awhile.

"one hour and a half. make it quick." you relent once again, it seemed like he still had the ability to make you soften up to him.

and so with that, you two proceed to awkwardly choose out your drinks for the time being while at the café and try your hands at small talk. it was.. incredibly awkward between the both of you, undoubtedly it was a little weird to even talk about work since well.. him being a Detective at the ADA and with you being a Port Mafia executive, what was there to talk about? it's weird to be so stiff with someone you used to be so comfortable with, you used to be able to talk about anything when you were younger but now it's just.. not the same.

while you two were talking, your phone screen lit up. some message from another Port Mafia member came up, said something about it being urgent. "i.. have to go, it's important." you looked up from your phone to face him, rolling your eyes at the tiny little pout that graced his lips. "a shame, maybe next time?" he suggests, hoping to have another time to talk with you again. you get the feel he misses you dearly.

"maybe." you shrug, standing up from your seat. you slid a napkin over to him, pointing to the corner of your mouth to signal to him that he had something on his. he mutters a small 'thank you', a tiny bit embarrassed that he might indeed have something on the corner of his mouth. as you leave, he uses his phone to check his appearance and.. there wasn't anything there? he thinks it might just be a silly little prank on your end to tease him after so long, he mindlessly flips the napkin in his hands as he puts his phone down.

in the corner of his eye, he noticed some.. writing on the napkin. your... number? you had changed your phone number some time after he left and now, you had given him your current one! it meant that you at least weren't that mad at him after so long, and that you at least wanted to stay in contact with him.

he decides to text you, just in case you decide to change your mind in the mean time of your separation.

your phone lights up as you made your way down the street.

[unknown number, 3:46 p.m ➜ you] "same place, friday?"

#bsd x reader #bsd dazai #dazai #dazai osamu #dazai x reader #dazai osamu x reader #bsd dazai x reader

[grandline-fics]

Hello! I loved your sanji fic and was wondering if you can write another one where readers hearing aids broke and in the meantime of usopp fixing them, reader just stays in the kitchen as they feel safer there with Sanji. (Requesting this because my hearing aids broke during school and I’ve been feeling a little down lately ;-; also a little extra if you want to add into this, sanji realizes they are really sad without it and like he tries to cheer them up by writing on a paper that he wants to learn sign language. Or like he knows a little sign language and tries to communicate with them and it makes reader really happy and they help teach him more signs. Maybe he asks how to sign I Love you and signs it to them—jkjk

But feel free to write whatever you feel comfortable with \(0v0)/

DESCRIPTION: When your hearing aids break, Sanji’s there to keep you company and cheer you up

WARNINGS: depictions of a deaf/hearing impaired reader, some angst mostly fluff

CHARACTERS: Sanji

WORDS: 849

A/N:  I'm so sorry you've been feeling down because of your own hearing aids being broken but I hope you're doing better now and that this helps. Really hope you like it <3

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST

-------------------

You knew that it was an accident but still you couldn’t help but feel upset by it all. Upset at Luffy for getting too excited about an island coming into view and knocking into you as you were passing your hearing aid over to Usopp so he could do some routine maintenance on them causing them to fall to the deck. You were upset that you didn’t act fast enough and that Nami came storming forward to scold your Captain only for her foot to crush the very thing you needed to hear the lecture. You didn’t need to hear the impact or look down to see that your hearing aids were broken, her and Usopp’s expressions said it all. 

Now you were left sitting in the kitchen, waiting for Usopp to work on the lengthy repairs while the others were off exploring. That was another thing to feel upset about. Slowly you lifted your gaze from the table you’d been resting your chin on to look at the cook who’d volunteered to stay behind too.You couldn’t help the sickening guilt twisting in your stomach as you watched him work on meal prep for the evening meal when the others returned. Sanji didn’t have to stay here and you knew he’d been looking forward to going to a new island in search of new ingredients for his cooking and yet now because of you- in some aspect at least- he didn’t get to go. 

You tried to tell yourself that Sanji was a grown man and was capable of making his own decisions but deep down you knew he was only staying behind because of you. While the two of you had feelings for each other and were prone to flirting, nothing had actually happened between you both. You sighed slightly, wishing that you could make this whole sorry mess up to him in some way. Suddenly Sanji’s gaze lifted from the vegetables he’d been cutting and he looked to you with concern and he offered you a reassuring smile. Quickly you folded your arms on the table and lowered your head to rest against them. It made you feel worse to see him smile at you that way.

Sanji’s smile fell when you hid your face away, dejected and not your usual bright self. This was why he insisted on staying with you, he knew you would blame yourself for this. He also knew that had Nami or Luffy stayed behind instead they would have clumsily tried to apologise and cheer you up in their own way which would no doubt make you feel worse. As he finished the last of the prep he slowly worked out how best to approach this. Just because your hearing aids were out of commission until Usopp worked his magic didn’t mean you’d suddenly changed. You were still you.

With your head still down you didn’t fully sense Sanji’s approach, thinking the subtle vibrations of his feet against the ground to be just him moving about the kitchen as normal. However you felt the dim thud of something being left on the table beside your elbow. Peeking out from behind your arm you were met with the sight of your favourite drink and snack waiting for you while Sanji casually slid into one of the free seats at the table with you. He couldn’t help the wide grin on his face when he saw the sadness flit away to be replaced with excited delight. After smiling brightly and pulling the food closer you set about enjoying what he’d made for you. 

Sanji smiled softly, it was a good first step in cheering you up but there was still more he could do and there was something he’d been working on. He just hoped he didn’t mess this up. Seeing that you’d almost finished your comfort food he lightly tapped your hand to get your attention. When you met his gaze you saw that he was suddenly anxious, tense and you became concerned. Then you watched him lift his hands and shakily begin to sign.

 “I was going to surprise you when I was better.” He began nervously, deciding to speak the words as well. It was a relief that you knew how to read lips, the last thing he wanted was for anything to be lost in his clumsy movements. “But if anyone needs cheering up, it’s you. Your face is too beautiful to be hidden away and sad. I’ve been learning from a book Robin had but maybe you could teach me properly?”

Extremely touched by the surprise gesture that he’d no doubt been learning very hard to accomplish, you couldn’t help but break out into happy tears and nod. Only Sanji would go above and beyond like this and it was all for you. “Thank you.” You signed and wiped your tears away to look at him properly with warmth and gratitude. 

“It’s a date.” Sanji replied with his usual charming smile before reaching over to take your hands into his and placing a gentle kiss against your knuckles.  

#one piece #one piece fic #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece scenario #one piece imagines #sanji x reader #sanji x you #black leg sanji #one piece fanfiction #vinsmoke sanji #sanji #one piece sanji #sanji vinsmoke

[sunboki]

— ENDLESS WINTER. TEASER a Christopher Bahng fiction

Christopher Bahng x fem. reader

TROPE. Beast! au, Mage! au, enemies to lovers (she wants to kill him), marriage au, angst

WARNINGS. violence, kidnapping, mention of a past war, descriptions of murder, reader is injured, hyunjin is a bit of a pain, hinted minsung (hehe), blood, kissing (dubcon), cursing

WORD COUNT. estimated around 12k

AUG'S NOTES. me and my inner thoughts… as a fic 😭 i cannot believe this is my longest writing yet!!! hopefully you enjoy!

SYNOPSIS. As heiress of the Magus, otherwise, Mage Clan, you find your position ripped from your fingertips when the Beast Clan conducts a raid. Left the only survivor, you make it your priory to stay alive in a ravaged Kingdom. That is, before you’re captured.

alternatively :

Starvation becomes the least of your problems when you meet King Bahng.

Hiding in the kitchen’s cupboard was definitely not your intention.

Neither was the Kingdom getting raided by the Beast Clan or being the (presumably) lone survivor in the castle, but fate would have its way, whether you liked it or not — this one just a bit more severe than usual.

Your mother once told you of the Beast Clan, of their ferocity and inability to handle things diplomatically. In her opinion, Beast were barely able to be considered Human.

Well, these words came after the Mage-Beast War; a grueling, disgustingly brutal dispute that caused what was referred to as the “Endless Winter”, a curse put upon the nation by a Magus overseer bidding every day of every year with, well, “endless winter”.

She told you how the ground used to be a wondrous green. Soft beneath your fingertips like feathers. Now, blankets of snow stretched as far as the eye could see, killing off any remaining expanse of foliage.

Although years had passed since then, your Kingdom was still recovering, still navigating importing routes in order to supply necessary goods.

Yet, everything was rapidly adapting, whether that was the snow-shoe rabbits roaming your vast tundra or the unexpected growth of fur on the bottom of the horse’s hooves.

Growing, learning.

Magus, though a lineage of magic practitioners, had begun to dull over the centuries. There was no need to learn with peace eminent, and the more aged those wielding supernatural abilities became, the less said abilities progressed into your generations.

However, Magus is the hearth of your Kingdom, and for as long as you live, the title shall reign supreme.

A title that, used by enemies and allies alike, had modernized from its ancient form Magus, to Mage.

Dinner held in the customary hall began that night, seat upon seat homing each member of the family adorned in their extravagant clothing.

Your father occupied the upmost chair, his plate stacked full of greasy lamb and pork bones. You, on the other hand, had had your fill chatting the cook’s ear off, slipping sweet potato wedges here and there as you talked.

Ms. Maewether was her name, a sad soul who carried her love in her cherished dishes. A love reserved for her late husband, a Beast himself, who unfortunately passed in The War.

Back then you asked her questions to the moon, about what they looked like specifically — if they really had eight inch claws like all the other children gossiped, if they could feel.

The last one was important, because everything Ms. Maewether told you you believed without a doubt, and the number one thing she pressed was that Beasts can feel, so very deeply. Just like humans.

The War changed that, and tension rose tenfold, especially as each Kingdom recovered from their countless casualties.

Luckily, your life had been peaceful, having been born young enough you could hardly remember.

Had been peaceful.

A scream from outside redirects the table’s conversation, relatives and siblings alike turning their head to gaze out the window.

Your blood runs cold.

Beasts, left and right, are slaughtering. Their clothing stained in blood that certainly isn’t their own, blades in clutch.

Immediately, panic ensues. People are trampling over each other to get out, disregarding every instinct but to stay alive. It’s chaos.

Dodging flailing bodies, you anchor yourself in a secluded cupboard below the countertops, shrinking as close to the wall as possible.

A few moments after everyone evacuates the Dining Hall do you hear cries. Yelling, gargled sounds. You cringe back imagining, stifling your breathing as much as possible.

Suddenly, a thought comes to mind, a thought that might just be responsible for saving your life.

Smell.

Ms. Maewether warned you a Beast’s smell is like no other, like a dogs. Twenty times as heightened as a persons.

So slowly, silently, you fish your hand into the small bit of darkness in front of you, locating a small bottle of cooking grease you wince upon finding — forcing the awful smelling concoction over your body, masking your scent.

Right after sitting down the container does the door creak open, heavy footsteps belonging to none other than a Beast. You can hear it in their sniffing, the clicking of their claws. Chills scatter your arms.

Another enters as the second door creaks, muttering something incomprehensible to its companion. At this point you’re pressed to the other side of the cupboard, both hands covering your mouth.

Your heart thunders in your chest, beating unbearably loud the longer you huddle.

Walking past where you lie, a Beast stops, body ducking down close enough you can hear its labored panting. You wait, waiting for the door to be flung open and for your death to await.

It doesn’t. And you thank whomever above for the echo of its presence fading away into the distance, barely relaxing against the highly uncomfortable hiding spot.

Instead, a blood curdling screech rips through the atmosphere, comparably close to where you hide. Abruptly, it stops, the thump of a body against the floor making you staunch the nausea building like bile in your throat.

It takes three days for you to finally peer out of the cupboard, the entirety of the Kingdom completely void of a soul.

Taking your first few steps around do you notice a woman, obviously slain by the puddle of blood surrounding her and the putrid stench. Her mouth hangs open—horror-stricken, frozen in place. You vomit in the sink.

For about a week do you roam the murder-house of a castle, finding purchase in a non-blood-bathed room and the many, thought to be endless amount of food.

You won’t leave, simple.

As long as the Beast Clan believes they’ve killed everyone, you’re safe.

That reminder was assuring, until your food supply dropped exponentially and a new problem situated itself on your platter.

Worst case scenario you die of starvation, the likelihood high if you stay here. Solution? Hunting.

Granted, you’re not the most skillful hunter, but you’re also not horrendous with a bow. Except, it’s not your aiming abilities you stress, it’s the chance someone sees you, the enemy sees you.

Four weeks in and you’re left with no other choice than to bundle yourself in layers upon layers of clothing and heed the feeble weaponry available.

Blizzard frost permeates your vision, wobbling steps making your hunger evident the more you roam. A horse would’ve been effortlessly useful, but selling yourself into that fantasy had been futile upon realizing they either took or killed all escapades.

A hare catches your eye, pale fur barely divisible from the terrain below. Carefully, you crouch down, elbow stretching the arrow back as far as possible whilst maintaining a solid grip. Steady. Steady.

Shoot!

The arrow flies, puncturing the animal in its chest enough to where it thankfully doesn’t suffer, flopping over rather pathetically instead.

However, your success is short-lived.

Stalking forward to snatch the creature quickly, a shadow looming overhead halts your footsteps. Behind you.

Before you can think to run, you wind back, meager arrow in hand providing little defense against the attacker.

First thing you take in is how huge they are. At least six feet tall if not taller, brilliantly ruby eyes revealing its true identity.

Beast.

With ease the man has your efforts pinned, curiousity overflowing as the animal looks at you. Yet, he doesn’t look like an animal, and apart from those eyes of his, no other factors would’ve revealed him to you but that.

This Beast has a fox-like face. A younger stature and smaller, slanted features.

“Hyung, what is this?” He asks, lifting your petrified frame like you were the rabbit you’d killed earlier.

His older counterpart glances over, and any hope of getting released plummets upon those wild crimson hues focusing in on you—knowledgeable as to what you were.

The cooking grease had long worn off, and your identity was likely as apparent as can be.

Mage.

Older Beast easily roaming through the snow, his fingers tangle into your hair, drawing out a cry when he jerks his hand up, forcing your gaze to meet his through the searing sting of your scalp. The younger grimaces.

His long, nearly white hair is tied into a ponytail, sharp cheekbones and calculating stare beyond intimidating. Beneath his left eye you note a small, distinct mole.

“One remained, huh.”

sunboki, may 2022 ©

#stray kids x you #stray kids x reader #stray kids x y/n #straykids x you #straykids x y/n #straykids x reader #skz x y/n #skz x you #skz x reader #skz fluff #skz angst #straykids angst #straykids fluff #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #bangchan x y/n #bangchan x you #bangchan x female reader #bangchan x reader #bang chan x female reader #bang chan x y/n #bang chan x you #bang chan x reader #bang chan fluff #bang chan angst #bangchan angst #bangchan fluff

[mcdonaldsplayground]

| actually the worst | bonus part

aged up ao’nung x f!reader (18+)

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | bonus part

summary: a few years after meeting the metkayina people (and quaritch trying to kill your entire family), you finally get a chance to bring ao’nung to see your former home. however, there’s more to think about than just touring him around the forest.

includes: 18+ content (not anything actually spicy, just more suggestive), teasing, swearing, suggestive remarks, ao’nung being a cocky bastard again😮‍💨

word count: 5.4k

a/n: okay so in this universe neteyam is still alive because i simply cannot process complex emotions at this time😀 also please note that i made up the general plot here just to fit the story but obviously it’s probably gonna be very different in the next avatar films😅 ALSO, i’m so sorry to anyone who was expecting smut or like, in-depth descriptions, but this is as spicy as my writing is gonna get for now hehe. hope you enjoy this lil’ bonus part. i’m gonna get to writing some other stuff soon:)

“Okay, everyone! We’re leaving in ten minutes so if you’re not ready by then, you’re flying by yourself!” Your father called, looking frantic as he saddled up his ikran and tried to herd everyone over at the same time. Jake always went full dad-mode before these trips.

Since the battle on the ship with Quaritch a few years ago, things had finally calmed down and allowed your family the ability to travel back home to the forest and the Omatikaya clan. However, the island had become your home too, so you tried to split your time between each. As much as you loved returning to the forest, though, there was someone that you found increasingly difficult to leave behind.

Ao’nung. The most annoying person you had ever met. Also, often to your chagrin, your boyfriend. The past few years together had been whatever your guys’ version of domestic bliss was. Mostly a lot of playful teasing and sometimes borderline bullying. A lot of flirting, too. Your family and friends often called the two of you childish, but that was just your dynamic, and you loved every second of it.

Recently, though, you’d been a little disappointed. Not with Ao’nung’s treatment of you, definitely not, but with how busy he’d been with his duties. You knew it wasn’t his fault, he was the son of the Olo’eyktan, after all. It was just that between going out hunting, Olo’eyktan training, and working on completing his warrior rites, you felt as if he was becoming a stranger that you were watching from afar. You couldn’t even remember the last time the two of you had been alone.

“Hey, I’m sorry that Ao’nung can’t come, [Y/N].” Neteyam said as he packed the last of his things and strapped them to his ikran, shooting you a sympathetic look. You sighed to yourself, trying not to let your disappointment show.

“It’s no big deal,” You shrugged. “It’s not like we’re leaving forever.” It was true that you wouldn’t be gone as long as usual this time, but it was certainly long enough. Not only would you be away from Ao’nung, but you would miss the completion of his Iknimaya. He was supposed to finish up next week, which was the only reason he wouldn’t be able to come with you like you had originally planned months ago. Actually, you'd been begging him to go along with you for a while, but it had never worked out with his schedule. This time seemed to cut the deepest, though.

“You keep saying it’s not a big deal, but I don’t think you mean that,” Neteyam pushed, coming over to stand next to you. His presence was a comfort, especially because he had inadvertently become the person you always went to for relationship advice. “It’s okay not to be okay, you know.”

“Yeah, I- I know…” You trailed off, unconvincing. “I just wanted to be there when he finished his Iknimaya. He’s worked so hard, Teyam.” You bit your lip, staring hard at the ground. “And-” You cut yourself off, suddenly feeling embarrassed at your own thoughts.

“And?” Neteyam’s tone was gentle, encouraging. You sighed.

“And I just keep worrying that he’s going to get tired of me being gone all the time. Once he’s officially a warrior he gets to choose a mate. I know it’s really horrible of me to think it, but, what if he doesn’t choose me?” You involuntarily imagined coming back from the forest to find him mated to another, your heart rising to your throat.

“I hear what you’re saying, but I have to tell you that’s impossible, [Y/N]. If you could see the way Ao’nung looks at you, you would know.” Neteyam grinned as you flushed, fighting a smile of your own. Before you could say anything in response, your dad declared it was time to leave. Your heart sank back down, and you turned to mount your ikran.

“Wait! Wait up! You’re going to forget your favourite, most handsome possession!” The deep voice sent a familiar shiver of longing down your spine, though his words made you roll your eyes. There was only one man in the world who could do that to you with just a sentence.

You whipped around, wide-eyed as your big dork of a boyfriend sprinted over to your family.

“Miss me, forest girl?” He was grinning like an absolute fool as he finally came to a stop a few feet away from you, panting slightly. You were quick to hide your extreme joy with a glare, lest you show just how much power he held over your emotions.

“Aren’t you supposed to be taming a skimwing right now?” You raised an eyebrow. “You know, so you can prove that you’re a man or something?” You held back a smirk as he narrowed his eyes.

“Alright, then. If you didn’t want me to come you should have just said so.” He said, nonchalantly shrugging as he turned to go back. You knew he was goading you, but you couldn’t help it as you jumped forward, catching his wrist.

“No! Don’t.”

“Oh, so you do want me to come?” He simpered, eyes dancing with mirth. If you weren’t in front of your family you probably would have jumped his bones right there. Something about that perpetual conceited attitude did things to you.

“Can you not be a dickhead for like, one second?” You asked, eliciting a chuckle from him. That was when you noticed the tattoo.

The sweeping intricate black lines spanned a good portion of the left side of his rib cage, swooping slightly up and around the curve of his back. It was gorgeous, but the ink looked incredibly fresh, the edges of the elegant piece slightly raised. You gaped, your fingers twitching with the urge to reach out and touch it.

“What is that?” You breathed, flicking your gaze up to meet your favourite ocean blues.

“I’m surprised you don’t know what a tattoo is considering you’ve lived here for-” You glared daggers as he spoke, indicating that now was not the time for witty banter. He cracked a wide grin, holding his hands up in surrender. “Alright, geez. I wanted to surprise you.”

“Okay but-” Suddenly everything fell into place in your mind and you gasped, your eyes growing wide. “You finished your Iknimaya?”

He nodded. “Just call me the greatest warrior who’s ever lived- woah!” He laughed deeply as you barreled into him, wrapping your arms around his neck before he lifted you off the ground and spun you around.

“Ao’nung the mighty warrior.” You could barely contain your smile as you peppered a few kisses along his cheeks. “I am so proud of you!”

It wasn’t like either of you to show such blatant affection in front of others, especially your parents, but it seemed impossible not to in this moment.

“That’s why I’ve been so busy lately,” He admitted, pulling back and setting you down in front of him, maintaining a loose grip on your waist. “I had to beg my father to let me work overtime, and it was a pretty tight schedule. I technically finished yesterday, but I woke up before dawn this morning to get my tattoo done.” You could have sworn the only other time Ao’nung had smiled this big was after your very first kiss.

“Oh, Nung, I’m so happy for you! Thank you!” You leaned in to kiss him, but you were rudely interrupted by your youngest brother, who was standing a few feet away with your family.

“Oh, Ao’nung! I’m so proud of you, mighty warrior! Let’s kiss in front of everyone and waste a whole bunch of time being gross!” He mocked in a high-pitched voice, rolling his eyes. Lo’ak may have gotten older, but he still loved to make fun of you two. “I hate to break up your guys’ little love fest, but we were supposed to leave like, ten minutes ago.” He huffed. Tsireya may not have been around to chastise him, but your mother certainly was. She smacked the back of his head, glaring at the boy.

“Lo’ak! You should be happy for Ao’nung! He is a warrior of the clan now.” Neytiri turned to look at Ao’nung, smiling proudly. Ever since your parents had found out about you and him, your mother was very supportive. She’d grown to love him like a son. Your father, however, was not so fond. You and him had been through many arguments in which he claimed you needed to wait until you were old enough for a mate in order to be with Ao’nung. Even now, when this had suddenly become possible, Jake looked a little disapproving.

“My love, Lo’ak is right. We really do have to get going.” You frowned at your father’s lack of enthusiasm, but nothing could truly drag your mood down for long as you thought about finally getting to show Ao’nung your precious forest. Even the days-long ikran flight didn’t seem all that bad anymore.

After you and Ao’nung clambered onto your ikran together and took off, you sighed contentedly, leaning back into him when you had a chance to relax a bit. You could feel the low tenor of his voice through his chest as he spoke, his hands placed on your thighs as he rubbed slow circles along them with his thumbs.

“I can’t wait to see this great forest you’ve been raving about for years.” You grinned at his words, biting your lip as you fantasized about showing him every inch of your former home.

“I can’t wait to see what my grandmother thinks of you.” You snorted. The image of her scrutinizing gaze making the usually overconfident Ao’nung sweat had you giggling.

“She’ll love me. All the ladies do.” You could hear the smirk in his words.

“I hated your guts when we met.” You reminded him, hoping to humble him even just slightly. It was a futile attempt.

“And now?”

“Maybe I still do.”

“Is that so?” He bent his head down to whisper into your ear. “It’s interesting that you hate my guts but yet you love when I rearrange y-”

“If you finish that sentence I will push you off this ikran so fast, Ao’nung.” You warned, a nervous laugh threatening to escape your chest.

“You’d miss me if you did that.”

“Unlikely.”

“Oh, you'd definitely miss me."

“So what is this boy’s name, again?” Your grandmother questioned as you helped her prepare food for dinner. You couldn’t help but smile as she squinted her eyes in the direction of where your brothers and Ao’nung were talking around the fire a little ways off. You all had arrived at the forest late, so everyone was just resting for the remainder of the night. Exploring would have to wait until tomorrow.

“His name is Ao’nung, grandmother.”

“Hm. Well, he could do with an attitude adjustment. But he looks to be a strong warrior, no doubt.” She pursed her lips, still appearing to scrutinize him.

“Yes. He actually just completed his Iknimaya,” You tried your best not to sound like you were gushing over him. “He is very strong, indeed.” The image of his toned arms flashed through your mind. The way he could lift you over his shoulder and carry you. The way his muscles tensed when he gripped your hips as he kissed you. You couldn’t help but flush, shaking your head slightly to clear it. Your grandmother was staring at you, the smallest of grins tugging at the corners of her lips.

“So you are mated, then?” She questioned, and you almost choked on air. You supposed you should have expected the question sooner or later, but it still surprised you. Your heart sped up at the thought.

“Oh- well… no.” You mentally cursed yourself for stuttering.

“You sound unsure, child. Do you not want to be his mate?”

“I- It’s- Yes. Yes of course I do,” Your gaze drifted over to him, watching fondly as he laughed at something Lo’ak had said. Despite the obvious stupidity of it, you still couldn’t shake the thought of him possibly choosing someone else to be his mate. It was like some deeply hidden fear you didn’t know you had until now. “It is just a matter of whether or not he wants to be my mate too.” You finished your thought quietly, looking down at your hands in your lap.

“I would think that would be the least of your worries, my dear.” Your grandmother spoke softly, placing a gentle hand on your knee. “He may be a mighty warrior, but even I can see his weakness is you. His eyes betray him every time he looks at you.” This was the second time recently someone had told you such a thing. It made you slightly dizzy with childish giddiness, the idea of you having such an affect on the aloof and confident male.

You were unsure how to respond, but you smiled widely to yourself, a little embarrassed. Your grandmother just chuckled and turned to call everyone over to eat.

The food was almost painfully good after eating pre-prepared meals over the course of your trip. Even Tuk, normally the pickiest eater ever, was scarfing every last bit down. It also felt great to eat together with your family, just enjoying their company as you leaned into Ao’nung’s side, his free arm wrapped around your shoulders. It didn’t take too long for everyone to finish and start turning in for the night.

Your family all slept in a group of hammocks nearby one another, but Ao’nung had been given a spare hammock a little ways away in order to give him more “privacy”, as your dad said, but you figured that he just didn’t want the two of you sleeping near each other. He was very protective and hypocritical considering everything he got up to with your mother when they were young. He was also naive if he thought that sending Ao’nung off by himself was going to keep you two apart.

Once everyone seemed soundly asleep, you silently slipped out of your hammock and crept away to find Ao’nung. It wasn’t too difficult as he appeared to be struggling to lie down comfortably in his hammock. You giggled quietly, sneaking up beside the warrior.

“Do you know how stupid you look right now?” You whispered, quickly slapping your hand over Ao’nung’s mouth as he yelped. You could barely hold in your laughter. “Shut up, skxawng! You’ll wake the whole clan!”

“Very funny, you little brat.” Ao’nung’s expression was sour, especially as he continued to struggle slightly with his hammock.

“You know, I’m very good at helping people who ask.” You smirked, folding your arms across your chest as you watched him try to stop swinging from side to side.

“Fine.” He huffed, glaring up at you.

“Fine what?”

“Seriously?” Ao’nung shot you an annoyed look, but you just stood there, enjoying the power you held in this situation. When you didn’t respond, he finally huffed, resigning himself to what he knew you wanted.

“Would you please do me the favour of helping me figure this stupid thing out, your all-knowing royal highness?” The last bit was a snarky joke, one meant to annoy you, but it only made you grin.

“Why didn’t you ask sooner, Nung?” You made your way over and steadied the hammock, fingertips pushing lightly on Ao’nung’s bicep to indicate that he should move over. When he shifted, you took the chance to climb in beside him, a look of pleasant surprise overtaking his features. The hammock stilled once the two of you had found a comfortable position facing each other, close enough to breathe the same air.

“So this is what you came here for?” Ao’nung questioned, his eyebrows raising as his signature cocky smirk settled onto his lips.

“It’s like you want me to punch you.” You scoffed, tracing the familiar patterns of his skin with your finger, particularly the glowing constellation of freckles that spanned his broad chest. He shivered beneath your touch. However, when you accidentally grazed over the edges of his new tattoo, he hissed. You quickly pulled back, cringing.

“Sorry!” You apologized hurriedly, worried that you had hurt him.

“No, it’s alright. It’s just still a little sore.” He admitted, offering you a gentle smile. You returned it, but did not place your hands back where they were.

“So, you can choose a mate now.” You finally said after a few moments of silence, peering through your lashes to try and gauge his expression. This was a conversation you had been dying to have for days, but it hadn’t seemed like the right time until now. Even so, your heart began to race slightly.

“Yes.” Ao’nung’s tone was low, serious. Maybe it was because of your nerves, but you found it difficult to read his expression.

“And?” You bit your lip, waiting impatiently for him to say anything. Your irrational fears were screaming in the back of your mind.

“And?” He quirked an eyebrow. “What do you want me to say?” You heart plummeted into your abdomen, unable to stop yourself from frowning deeply as you flicked your gaze down so you could avoid eye-contact. You swallowed thickly as your throat constricted. You felt like such a baby for reacting this way, but it was like you couldn’t stop it. The next words coming out felt like someone had stuck a branding iron down your throat.

“Do you want to mate with someone else?”

“What?” Ao’nung sat up slightly in shock, confusion and worry written all over his face. “What are you taking about?”

You just shrugged, afraid you would truly start crying if you spoke or even looked up from your fidgeting fingers.

“[Y/N].” His tone was firm but soft, a plead for you to explain. You felt ridiculously stupid.

“There’s lots of beautiful women of the clan. Many who would make a great Tsahìk some day,” You managed quietly, letting out a short breath. “I don’t want to hold you back just because we have been together so long. Besides, I know what your mother thinks of me, and maybe she is right. I still act like a child sometimes. I am gone so much visiting home. And I am not-” Your voice broke, a few warm tears finally spilling over onto your cheeks. “I am not Metkayina. I am not like you.”

It was painfully silent for a few torturously long seconds. Finally, you felt Ao’nung’s fingers tilt your chin up so he could look at you. His gaze was giving you the all-too-familiar impression that he was seeing you intimately, seeing beyond just your face.

“I do not want anyone else.” He breathed, moving to cradle your face in his hands, brushing away your tears with his thumbs. “I have the most beautiful woman here in front of me. And for some reason, Eywa forbid, I think she likes me.” He grinned and you felt your heart lift.

“You might be right about that.” You said quietly, earning a low chuckle from him.

“[Y/N], I need you to know that I do not care if my mother doesn’t approve of you. The other women of the clan do not tease me. They do not make ridiculously funny faces when they’re annoyed. They do not have the courage to stand up to me and call me a jerkwad when I’m being mean.” The two of you laughed faintly at the memory of you calling him every English insult you could think of. “I love you because you do all of those things. And I love you because you are just as much Metkayina as anyone else in the clan, even though you did not grow up knowing our ways. You were not born into your place there, you earned it, and I can only hope I’ve earned even a slight chance at being worthy enough to be your mate.” You were staring hard at each other now, barely breathing as you hung on to every single word he said. You slid your hands behind his neck, tugging him closer to you, your lips ghosting over his.

“Whether I like it or not, you own my heart, Ao’nung.”

His lips crashed to meet yours with an intensity that set your heart racing. The kiss was all heat and desperation, tongues and teeth. Ao’nung bit your bottom lip, smirking when you gasped. His fingers then found your waist and he smoothly flipped your positions so that he was over top of you, groaning as you placed kisses along his neck and jaw.

“I can’t believe you were worried about me not wanting to be your mate when I’m so fucking in love with you.” He said between sloppy kisses, his hands sliding slowly up and down your thighs, positioned on either side of his body. You shuddered at the way it made your stomach tighten. “As if I would let anyone else hold my heart in their hand.” You whined as he fingered the waistband of your clothing, sucking on a sweet spot just beneath your ear.

“I can think of something else of yours that I would love to hold right about now.” Your eyes glinted as you gazed at him, a quick flash of surprise passing over his face before he broke into a smirk.

“Be my guest, love.”

The mid-afternoon sun shone brightly as you excitedly made your way up the hallelujah mountains. You and Ao’nung had spent the morning around the forest with your family, but you’d really wanted to show him some of your favourite spots by yourself, one of which you were heading to now.

"Hurry up, slow poke!" You found yourself calling out, a laugh bubbling from your chest when Ao’nung groaned behind you. You turned your head back to grin tauntingly at him.

"When you said you were going to show me your home, this is not what I pictured us doing." Ao'nung frowned, glancing warily over the side of the vine you both walked upon.

"No? What exactly were you picturing, then, Nung?" You queried and Ao'nung's lips split into what you could only describe as a suggestive grin.

"Oh, you know, maybe a little less dangerous hiking and a little more finding a secluded spot to-"

"Oh my Eywa!" You yelped, shaking your head. "Just keep walking, you sick bastard."

"Just putting ideas out there.." He chuckled, suddenly pushing forward to catch up to you. He slung his arm around your waist, pulling you into him like it was the most natural action in the world.

You leaned in closer, standing on your tiptoes to whisper into his ear. "You're so desperate, Ao'nung." He shivered.

"Only for you, forest girl." As the words left his lips, you suddenly felt as if you’d experienced this moment before, down to the exact details. You furrowed your brows, trying hard to remember why it felt so familiar.

“Oh!” You gasped out loud, nearly sending your boyfriend toppling over the side of the vine as your memory came into focus. On instinct, you reached out quickly to steady a confused looking Ao’nung.

“Are you trying to kill me, woman?” He asked incredulously, placing a hand over his heart. “What was that?”

You flushed, unsure of what to say. It was such a strange experience to have to explain.

“Um, it’s nothing.” You laughed breathily, trying to sound as casual as possible before continuing your trek up the mountains. Unfortunately, that was not satisfactory enough for him. He grabbed at your waist, pulling you back into him so you were both were facing forward, your back flush against his chest.

“Tell me.” He whispered in your ear, sending goosebumps along your skin.

“It’s weird.” You chuckled, turning your head so you could meet his eyes. They were alight with interest.

“Like you don’t already say weird things all the time?” He asked, laughing as he earned a gentle punch to the bicep. You turned fully to face him.

“Do you remember the first night we went to the cove of ancestors? The night Kiri had a seizure?” You questioned, playing with your fingers as they rested on his chest, feeling his slow breaths beneath your touch.

“Of course.” He furrowed his brows slightly, as if playing through the memory in his head. “The first time you let your guard down around me.” His lips split into a small smirk, though it was more fond than cocky.

“Yeah, whatever,” You smiled softly. “Well, before all that crazy stuff happened, I had a vision when I connected to the tree. It was- well… it was this.” You bit your lip, spreading out your hands to indicate the scene around you.

“The mountains?” He questioned, not entirely following.

“Yes. But us, too. The exact conversation we just had a few minutes ago. It felt so familiar while it was happening, but I couldn’t remember why until now.” You felt awkward explaining it to him, avoiding eye contact and instead trying to read the rest of his face.

“So you knew this was going to happen?” It was a loaded question, indicating both the general situation and your relationship as a whole. A smirk was tugging at his lips.

“Kind of…” You said slowly. “But at the time I still thought I maybe hated you, so it freaked me out. I didn’t know if it was actually going to come true or not. I was working up the courage to talk to you about it before everything went to shit.” You laughed a little, thinking back on all the chaos of those first few months living on the island.

“I want you to be my mate.” Ao’nung said suddenly, staring down at you with a rare completely serious expression. You snapped your head up quickly, confused at the sudden turn in conversation, though a flutter of excitement settled in your stomach.

“I know,” You smiled softly. “I can’t wait until we get back home-”

“No, now.” His voice was firm, his mind already made up. Your eyebrows shot skyward. “I don’t want to waste anymore time not being officially bonded. We can go tonight,. I think Eywa has given us a sign through your dream.” He grabbed your hand, gently lacing his fingers with yours.

“But- what about our parents?” You asked, trying to ignore the rising giddiness inside of you. “I mean my dad will probably burst a blood vessel in his eye. And don’t even get me started on your mom… She already has enough reason to hate me.”

“It’s not about them, my love.”

“But you are the chief’s son, Nung. There are rituals and ceremonies for you and your chosen mate-”

“Me and you.”

“Yes,” You breath hitched slightly, blushing. “Us. Your parents won’t be pleased if you do not complete them in the traditional way.” You were speaking to deaf ears, reiterating things he already knew well.

“We’ll have our own stupid rituals.” He muttered, his fingers skating along your arm, bringing them up to trace the outline of your jaw. “Ceremonies and parties and disapproving parents can wait until we return.” He searched your eyes, desperately hoping for you to be feeling the same immediacy as him. The same all-consuming desire to be one after waiting so long. Despite your feeble rationale behind why it was a terrible idea, you had to admit that you wanted to do it just as badly.

“Tonight, then.” You finally caved, an excited buzz settling under your skin. Ao’nung grinned, picking you up to swing you around before pulling you into a hug. You could feel his excitement in the air around you, making you bite your lip to keep from smiling too wide.

You woke to the sun already shining brightly, pleasantly warming your skin. A pair of strong arms were wrapped around your abdomen, your legs tangled together with two other, longer and broader ones. It could have been any other morning after sneaking out to be with Ao’nung.

It was not.

You could feel the mating bond even now as your mate lay sleeping beneath you, his soft breaths tickling your skin. Nothing about your feelings for the warrior boy had changed, you still felt the deep love that had claimed a stake on your heart years ago, but it was like it had been fortified, made immortal under the gaze of Eywa. Your soul was tied completely to his, two halves to make a entirely new whole. His eyes fluttered open as you stared at his sleeping form, admiring his peacefulness. He smiled sleepily.

“Good morning, my love.” His voice was slightly raspy from sleep, and you felt your stomach tighten, suddenly replaying every euphoric detail about the night before. You clenched your legs together, letting Ao’nung sit up and pull you into his lap while running a hand slowly up your thigh. Once you were comfortably sitting on top of him, he began to place sweet kisses along your neck.

“Ao’nung.” You tried (failed) to sound stern, placing a hand on each of his biceps in a weak attempt to stop him from caressing all along your body. “We have to go back.” Your words got lost in a moan as he nipped at your collarbone, looking up at you in a desperate sort of way. You shuddered, unable to stop yourself from dipping your head down to place a kiss on his pouted lips. He kissed back fervently, one of his hands sliding to the back of your head while the other danced along your ribcage, dangerously close to eliciting another moan from you. If you didn’t stop now, you knew you never would.

“Alright, alright. Don’t make me smack you, dipshit.” He groaned in annoyance as you pulled away, your lips already slightly swollen from the kiss.

“C’mon, [Y/N].” He whined, his ears flicking back in disappointment. “You're my mate, now. Can we not just enjoy this time?”

You chuckled, tracing your thumb over his bottom lip. “I’m sure you got more than enough enjoyment last night. Now it’s time to for us to deal with the repercussions of that.” You quickly placed one more soft kiss on his lips before sighing and untangling your limbs from his. He unhappily followed your lead, holding your hand to help you up. As the two of you slowly began your walk back home, you smiled to yourself, feeling more content than you ever had before. Even the thought of confronting both your parents seemed but a small inconvenience, an easy price to pay for the sheer elation you felt at the bond you now shared with Ao’nung.

“I still think we could have stayed longer.” He frowned, swinging your intertwined hands back and forth slightly.

“Doubtful. It’s pretty much a miracle they haven’t sent out a search party already.” You laughed, guessing it was already mid-morning. Your family had probably been awake for hours.

“What should I say to your parents?” Ao’nung questioned.

“Well, you should probably start by begging my dad for mercy,” You deadpanned. “Though I doubt that will help.”

“Thanks, I’m so glad you’re confident in me.” Ao’nung quipped back sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “I’d like to remind you that I’m a warrior now.”

You grinned. “You’re about to be a dead warrior.”

“Well, at least my last great memory is of you on your knees last night-"

You cut him off with a light punch in the gut. It was like hitting the bark of a tree, but he did you the courtesy of pretending to feel it, at least.

“Geez, someone’s touchy about that.” He smirked, amusement flickering in his gaze.

“Just save the cockiness until after we talk to my parents. I know you probably don’t know to be humble, but-”

“Oh, I’ll be humble. I’ll be even more humble than Neteyam when he gets a compliment.” He spoke of it like a challenge, and you giggled.

“Speaking of that, I forgot to mention that my brothers are probably going to kill you, too, you know. Then maybe even Kiri. You’ll be dead four times over.”

“You’re lucky you’re worth all this murder I’m about to experience.”

“Just remember that this was your idea, genius.”

“Yeah, yeah. But who’s the one who loves me too much to have said no?”

“Shut up.”

“Fine. But only if you give me a good luck kiss before we get back because I’m starting to get nervous now.”

taglist:

@luvlykrispy @foreverfolkloregirly @findingourtreasure @tiddybiddy @nao-cchi @goodiesinthecloset21 @elegantkidfansoul @azaleaniath @cloakedvengeance @philiasoul @aonungmybf @joshuahongsfuturewife @shartnart1 @ayanamire @tireytesulineytiriite @bigmama123 @fucksnow @seashelldom @melsunshine @littlethingsinlife @thesheelfsworld @in-luvais @perseny @minkyungseokie @acrobatcheeks @theblaxkbird @sakura-onesan @1-800-not-simping @srrybroo @ellasully @trulynotavailable @dreamergirljen @ipoopedmypants47 @hangezoes-wife @scarletrosesposts @kaealowri @eggnox @spiceyhotsherbet @awkward-halfhug

#ao'nung #ao'nung fanfiction #ao'nung fluff #ao'nung x reader #ao'nung x y/n #ao'nung x you #aonung #aonung fanfiction #aonung fluff #aonung x reader #aonung x y/n #aonung x you #atwow #atwow ao'nung #avatar #the way of water #avatar the way of water

[luvfy0dor]

Hello! I like your work. I want to make a request, I hope I can do it correctly. I'd really like to read the guys from bsd praising the reader's homemade food

Thanks and have a nice day :)

"What a Chef!!" ｡⁠♡・ BSD x GN!Reader

╰┈➤ Fyodor, Nikolai ♡

Description; BSD boys with a reader that cooks wonderful food for them.

Warnings; Brief mentions of prayer in Fyodors, maybe ooc but I think I put that warning on all of my little fics

A/N; TYSM!! This is so cute omg!! If I didn't do the characters you wanted to see, let me know!! I'll write a second part if you wanted other characters!! I was gonna add Chuuya and Dazai to this one but I think I'm gonna do them in a separate part at some point

Fyodor Dostoevsky ༉‧₊˚✧

Fyodor likes when you cook for him, it's just one less thing he has to do for himself while simultaneously juggling his work with the DOA. While most times he does eat at all of his monitors, he'll join you at a dinner table at the very least weekly. He shows his appreciation through soft whispers and gentle kisses afterwards.

Scenarios !! ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

Your boyfriend occupied his usual seat in his little swivel chair, the wheels softly rolling against the ground any time he needed to scoot across the room. Even through the doors of the dark room, he could smell the food you were cooking and his mouth slightly watered at the mere thought of whatever you were preparing. He (im)patiently waited for you to come fetch him, his brittle fingers hitting against the keyboard quickly.

A smile crept onto his face when he heard glass rattling around a bit, not shattering by any means but softly clacking against other glass. He knew by this that you were arranging a plate for each of you and you would softly be knocking at the door, and he was right, per usual. After a quick moment, he could hear your footsteps approaching and then your knuckles colliding with the thick wood of the door. He beckoned you inside, hearing the click of the door opening.

"Dinner is done, Fedya. Do you wanna come eat with me tonight?" Fyodor nods with a small grin as he rises from his chair, walking with you back to the dining room. He rests his hand on the small of your back, almost guiding you to your chair, even pulling it out for you. "Wow, what a gentleman." You say, grabbing your fork. He nods and takes his seat. "Ofcourse, you made me a wonderful meal, it's the least I can do." He mumbles a small prayer to himself before grabbing his fork and taking a bite, humming in satisfaction.

"Just as I thought, very good." He smiles at you, taking another bite of the food. "I love when you cook for me, dear, you always do so wonderfully." You can't help but feel a soft blush creep up on you, heating up your face all because of Fyodors compliment.

"Thank you, I just like to cook a lot, so it's really no problem cooking for the both of us." You say, continuing eating the plate of food in front of you. "I'm glad that you like cooking, it always makes my day." His praise makes the pace of your heart beat exponentially quicken as you deelpy inhale.

"Thats really sweet, I'm happy to hear that from you." You make your best effort not to fumble over your words , your flustered state making it extra difficult. You both sit quietly for a minute, the soft sound of silverware clacking against your plates overtaking the silence every couple of seconds. "You deserve to hear it from everyone." He softly mutters, although he was a bit late to reply, it still melted your heart. "Thank you, my love." You smile.

"Ofcourse, my dear." You both finish your food and you take his dishes and head to the kitchen to clean them. Instead of going back to his work as he usually does for a bit before bed, he creeps up on you and hugs you from behind, resting his head on your shoulder. He leaves a soft, chaste kiss or two on your neck, leaning into you for support. "Thank you, my love, truly."

Nikolai Gogol ༉‧₊˚✧

Nikolai is much more enthusiastic with his praise, genuinely trying to convey how much he loves your cooking. He gets excited when you cook for him, especially if it's something he really likes or requested.

Scenarios !! ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

You heard one of Nikolais portals open up in the kitchen, the soft, yellow glow cascading onto your skin and the food that you were making. Your boyfriend shortly appeared in behind you, peering over your shoulder curiously.

"Oooo, that looks so good!" He chimes, placing one of his gloved hands on your shoulder, making you smile a bit. "Well thank you, Kolya. Im assuming you're here to taste test, no?" You say with a knowing grin, handing him the spoon you were using to stir a sauce. He joyfully tastes it, humming in satisfaction. "Magnificent as always! Hmm, I bet I can guess what's in this." He says excitedly.

"Go ahead, try, you probably won't be able to." You say, trying to egg him on a bit. "Hmmm, let's see, bacon, kimchi, parmesan...there might be other things, but I can't quite taste them as strongly." You nod. "Good job." Nikolai grins and tosses the spoon in the sink. "Is it almost done? You know I get giddy when I walk in on you cooking." He says, hugging you from behind.

"Mhm, give it like, ten more minutes." You say, stepping away from the stove. He nods. "Alright, I'm just so excited." He whirls himself away to the dinner table, leaving you happily sighing. You finish cooking and plate the food, bringing it to the dinner table and setting it in front of Nikolai.

"Ah! It looks so great! You're even wonderful at presentation." He grins. You smile and sit down. "Thank you, Kolya. Taste it and tell me how it is." You say, taking a bite of the food yourself. You knew exactly what answer you would get from Nikolai. Well, maybe not the exact thing, but that gist. It would be something along the lines of "My dove, this is utterly amazing!" And it made you grin like an idiot every single time. His eyes widened, as if he hadn't expected the food to taste this good.

"Wow, my dove, this is delicious! You did a wonderful job, thank you for cooking for me." He scarfs down the meal and you watch him with a bit of concern, really hoping he didn't choke. "Ofcourse." You giggle a bit.

After finishing your meals, you both bring your dishes to the sink. After you rinse them off and put them in the dishwasher, he pulls you in for a quick peck on the lips.

"What a chef you are, my dove." He whispers against your lips, his thumb brushing over your cheek bone. You blush a little and lean into him. "Thanks, Kolya, I love hearing you compliment my food, it means a lot."

A/n (#2/apology type thing) : I really need to start working on these more in the morning and daytime rather than at 11:30-midnight when i could knock out by 10:30, I feel like im not putting my best writing out for yall, so I'm really sorry for that. It's been real busy lately and I'm so thankful for every single bit of support I get on here, it makes me so happy and thankful : ) love y'all ♡

#bungo stray dogs #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd headcanons #bsd fyodor #bsd x reader #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd #fyodor x reader #fyodor dostoyevsky x reader #bsd nikolai #nikolai gogol #nikolai x reader #nikolai x y/n #nikolai gogol x reader

[justporo]

Changing Trajectories (Stars that collide)

A while back I wrote this drabble about ascended Astarion suddenly interrupting one of Tav's jobs as a thief - almost ten years after they've parted ways. The title was How to Catch a Mouse

I've come back to it and decided to turn it into a longer story. So, we'll be right back at the moment where the first (very short) part left off: Astarion with his hands on Tav, interrupting her from stealing her target object. Turns out the vampire lord didn't happen upon Tav on accident this fateful night.

Song: Devil May Cry (Apashe & Sofiane Pamart)

Pairing: Ascended Astarion/Fem!Tav (You) Warnings: Graphic descriptions of violence, angst Note: This will not be like the usual fluff I write. In fact it will probably not be fluffy at all

~~~

You were pulled back by the hands firmly gripping onto your waist. You couldn’t help but let out a little shriek as you collided with the upper body of the person standing behind you. His presence was overwhelming now.

You could take in his scent now: he still smelled of bergamot and rosemary and the scent immediately unveiled memories you had desperately tried to forget, to hide in the deepest, darkest corners of your mind, to strangle so they wouldn’t haunt you anymore. But images flashed through your mind: of the close moments before, ten years ago, when you had thought you had found your soulmate.

Hands were still gripping hard on your waistline, holding you in place, pressing you against a firm body.

“Hello, my darling Tav”, you heard the voice purr again and felt his breath as it was leaning over your neck. No lips were touching your delicate skin, but you could almost feel the grin that bared fangs right above your quickening pulse.

“Astarion”, you whispered spiritlessly because it was the only thing you could muster. You knew you should feel terrified that you had fallen – quite literally – into the hands of one of the most dangerous creatures of the Sword Coast if not Faerûn. But all you could feel at the very moment was deep desperation and overwhelming sadness as more memories flooded you from a different time.

“Is this the way you’d like to greet me after all this time, love?”, Astarion said with a tinge of anger when there was nothing else coming from you. His hands spun you around, made you face him. His hands grabbed your elbows now, holding you in place.

Again, you couldn’t help but gasp. He was as strikingly handsome as you remembered, even more so! Ten year old memories couldn’t do justice to the vampire lord’s glorious beauty: his chin lifted arrogantly, every white curl perfectly in place, ruby eyes striking, piercing, boring into your soul and soft lips perpetually curled into the smirk that once had almost made you give everything to him.

And suddenly you felt rage overcome you, drowning out all other emotions you had felt before.

The element of surprise on your side you pushed him away, startling him. It was only a split second, but it was enough for you to step out of his reach.

“Don’t fucking touch me!”, you screamed at him and took more steps away from him – until you collided with the small stone pillar behind you. The amulet on it fell to the ground with a clattering sound. But you couldn’t care less in this very moment.

Astarion’s face had become a mask of rage, his eyes almost blazing with it. “You dare speak in that tone with me?”, he screamed back. Power rang in his voice and struck primal fear into you immediately.

You immediately scurried around the small stone column at your back and slowly took more steps backwards, trying to get away from him.

You realised two things: firstly, that it was very likely no one in their right mind should speak with this mighty monster in this tone because secondly, he could absolutely kill you and splatter you all over the ground if he wanted to. It probably wouldn’t even cost him that much of an effort. And he’d probably walk out of here with not a hair out of place.

You gulped as fear filled you as a delayed reaction to Astarion’s appearance.

The vampire meanwhile closed his eyes and took a deep breath in as he obviously tried to gain back his composure. He rolled his head and shoulders as an arrogant – and very fake – smile entered his face and he opened his eyes again to watch you again.

You stopped wandering back – there was no use to it anyway, Astarion was blocking the only way out of the room.

“I do apologise, it’s been a while since someone has been foolish enough to cross me.” His tone was civilised, polite even. His gestures that of a bored noble merely having a dull conversation. But the way the smile grew into a wicked grin baring his fangs was still a bit too predatory for his masquerade.

And still your heart couldn’t help but flutter again as he looked at you again – this time again not out of fear. He angled his head and looked you up and down.

“You look incredibly beautiful, my darling, even more so than I remember.”

Unbelievably enough, he sounded genuine. His gaze lingered on you, seemingly far away for a moment. It seemed you weren’t the only one taken aback by a sudden flood of memories.

“So do you”, you whispered before you could think better of it. His gaze snapped back to yours, a knowing smirk playing on his lips now. He looked a lot less intimidating now and much more like you had kept him in your memories.

Back then, you had always told him how beautiful he was. At every given opportunity. And each time he had smiled at you and given you a loving kiss.

Your chest started to ache as you lived through one of those memories.

“What are you doing here?”, you asked him before the pain of it could close up your throat.

“Ah, I could ask you just the same, couldn’t I?” He inclined his head a little and his smile grew making it even easier to mistake him for what he really was. He watched you carefully, noting how you had taken several steps away from him, but he didn’t move closer again. “But then again, I know very well what you are doing here, seeing as I was the one who had the cheese laid out for you”, the vampire explained and pursed his lips. His eyes twinkled mischievously.

Your jaw dropped: “You are the client behind this contract?” Obviously, you internally rolled your eyes at yourself. Why else would he have put up a show with the whole cat-mouse-thing. But you had been too starstruck in the beginning to make sense of it all.

That you hadn’t known the true identity of your client wasn’t that much of a surprise though. You only had had contact via messengers that had kept the identity of your customer hidden – but that was very usual in your line of work.

Astarion’s eyes started to sparkle even more as he watched the gears in your head turn and while his smirk grew, he started to saunter towards you again. He kept silent as he approached you once more as you kept feeling more and more alarmed.

This wasn’t good. In fact, it was terrible. This meant he hadn’t just happened upon you. He had specifically sought you out.

“Why?”, you simply asked as the vampire lord strode closer to you with the languid elegance of a cat.

He threw out his arms in a dramatic pose: “Why indeed? Because I wanted an artifact stolen, obviously.” One of his eyebrows twitched and he let his tongue roll in his mouth. He was so obviously enjoying keeping you on thin ice. Another flare of anger rushed through you.

And to add to your misfortune, you suddenly heard shouts and the stomping of heavily armoured boots outside the room.

You must’ve been found out.

Your eyes darted to the door, then back to Astarion who must’ve heard the same. His grin had become feral again.

“Oh oh, my dear, looks like you’re about to be caught in flagranti”, he said as he had almost reached you. Your heart and mind raced, searching for an impossible solution.

“Come with me”, Astarion whispered in a deep, sinister tone when he was close enough to reach out to you and elegantly offered you one of his hands.

Your eyes jumped between the door, his face and his offered hand. Outside the steps came closer. You were indeed between a rock and a hard place – and you couldn’t decide which option was more daunting.

“Rot in a dungeon until you die or take my hand, your choice”, Astarion said, his tone now cold and sending new jolts of icy dread through you. And you were suddenly sure that if you were caught and indeed thrown into a dungeon, he would make sure you would die there. So, you probably did not have a choice from the moment you had entered this room.

With your heart racing you took his hand and he immediately drew you in close to him: his forehead almost touching yours in a delicate way. Another gesture you remembered well from him. Emotions swinging wildly from incredible fear to bittersweet melancholy and back again.

“Glad to see you still made the right decision”, he mumbled. His red eyes dropping to your lips for a moment before looking in your eyes again. You weren’t sure you would agree with him.

As he made to turn, you remembered that there was still an amulet to steal. You were a thief after all and even though your client was an evil vampire lord and your former acquaintance you’d rather forget, you sure as hell wouldn’t miss out on the gold – not if you had gotten so close.

Astarion must’ve sensed your intention as your head turned to where the amulet had fallen to the ground. “Oh, don’t worry about that, my love”, he said with a wink at you. “That’s only a replica, I had the real one stolen and replaced months ago. And you should be glad about it because two of the three thieves that were sent didn’t make it out alive”, he continued to explain and let out a laugh at the end as your eyes widened in shock and you felt goosebumps all over your body.

You let yourself get dragged towards the door as your mind tried to make sense of what he had said. This whole situation was becoming worse by the minute. So – not only had he specifically sent you on a quest, but the job hadn’t even been his motive… “Was this whole shitshow just an elaborate setup to get to me?”, you asked the vampire and dragged on his hand that was now firmly held by his, fingers crossed. As soon as the words left your mouth you wanted to bite your tongue off realising you had shouted at him angrily again – and you feared how he would react.

But this time Astarion only grinned at you, lifted your arm and made you turn beneath your joint arms as if dancing until you were chest to chest with him again. “Oh yes, you’re only now getting this? I mean, I could have let you be taken by my servants or broken into your home for a quick little visit, but this is way more fun, isn’t it?”, Astarion drawled. You could only stare at him in shock as hot and cold shivers ran down your spine at his casual explanation of how easily he could have threatened you.

But more than anything you wanted to know why he had taken such elaborate measures to get to you.

But you had no time to voice your question as the door flew open and a bunch of heavily armoured city guards stepped in followed by a bald servant from the estate.

The guards took in the scene and immediately levelled their halberds at the two of you. Astarion let go of you and nonchalantly stepped in front of you and the very pointy and sharp-looking weapons. He casually crossed his arms over his chest – not a care in the world it seemed. But somehow his posture was still that of a threatening predator not that of prey backed against a wall. Maybe it was the way how he held his back straight and slightly leaned forward as if ready to strike at any moment or his absolute stillness as he confronted the guards.

Before any of the guards or the obviously terrified servant could say something, Astarion spoke up: “Care to explain why you are so rudely interrupting this sweet – and dare I say private – moment I was sharing with my beautiful lady?”

His voice was cold now and made the hair at the back of your neck stand up. You’d been the focus of this voice once this evening and deeply wished to not be it again.

“Well, do you care to explain what you and your lady which is also a wanted thief are doing here?”, one of the guards answered – seemingly the captain of the six men and women lowering their weapons at you.

“In fact, I do not. But – I feel rather generously today, so if you’d be so kind as to let me and my lady pass through, then we can all forget about this and go about our lives”, Astarion offered throwing out his arms and then clapping them together again.

The captain threw his head back in laughter and his guards joined in with chuckles. “Who do you think you are?”, the captain replied after a few heartbeats.

The vampire lord lifted one of his hands quickly. You could see it was surrounded by a soft red glow.

With lightning quick motions every single one of the guards had moved and were now pressing their halberds beneath their chins, the metal points already drawing blood for some of them, their eyes filled with the same red glow.

The servant screamed and tried to scurry away, but Astarion’s eyes shot to him and enclosed him in this sort of spell as well: making him grip his own throat with both hands and squeezing.

“I think”, Astarion spoke, his voice filled with otherworldly power “I am someone you don’t want to threaten.” He flicked his hand and the guards parted into a grotesque row for you, their weapons slowly pressing harder against their skin, cutting flesh now. Their faces distorted as they felt the pain.

You had become a statue, horrified by the casual display of violence. You were no stranger to bloodshed, by no means, but this… this was different.

“Come now, my love, before we’re further inconvenienced”, Astarion said as he turned to you again. His demeanour was that of bored arrogance again. He stepped over to you, put his hand on the small of your back and pushed you towards the door – you did not have it in you to resist. Too shocked, maybe, or too scared he’d do the same to you.

You passed the men and women quickly as they were silently suffering. Only as you were past them did you dig your heels down and tried to turn around.

“Let them… let them go”, you demanded shakily. The vampire turned to you, his face a sneer. “Tss, if it makes you happy.” He snapped his fingers and you saw how the spell broke, the tension in the guards’ bodies broke and they toppled over, gasping, screaming. Astarion snapped again and the door flew shut, blocking your view of the men and women. You turned to the vampire lord who was carefully observing you, still holding on to you with one hand.

“Don’t tell me you softened up, my love. After all you were the one pushing me to sacrifice seven thousand souls to become this”, Astarion sneered moving closer to you until his nose was almost touching yours. “Don’t tell me, violence shocks you know, Tav. You’re no innocent lamb.” His eyes sparkled with challenge; his lips curled in slight disgust.

You tried to hold his stare, but you couldn’t. Only after a few heartbeats you had to lower your gaze; because he was right.

He dragged you on. “Come on now”, he demanded, no room for disobedience.

The two of you walked through the giant mansion for long minutes. You weren’t even entirely sure how much time passed as you were too deep inside your thoughts and also kept coming back to notice how gently Astarion was holding your hand as he led you very purposefully through this maze of a place. There was no need for him to still keep holding on to you. You knew you didn’t have a chance to get away from him. But it seemed he enjoyed this method much more than other means.

Then, before you could round a corner, you heard voices coming towards you.

Astarion lifted his free hand again. “No”, you whispered almost out of reflex, your tone pleading. The vampire looked at you in annoyance but simply dragged you to a nearby, small alcove and with a quick mumbled incantation shrouded you in shadows for passing eyes as he pressed his body against yours.

Two servants passed, focused on their idle chatter, as you were painfully aware of the closeness of Astarion’s body: closer than you had been the entire night. You could smell him again as he carefully observed the two passing persons and you kept staring up at his face.

You knew the line of his nose or the way a deep wrinkle formed between his brows when he furrowed them as well as the back of your own hand. Despite everything that had happened this night you couldn’t deny how your body and not least your mind and heart reacted to being so close to Astarion after a decade of mourning him and yearning for him.

The way his body pressed against yours, making you remember how it had felt like to be held by him or kissed. Just how effortlessly close the two of you had been. Whole nights wasted away with laying around naked, talking, embracing each other - not even always ending in sex.

You had felt the walls of the fortress you had built around those memories and feelings start to crumble from the very first moment you had heard his voice again. But the stones started crumble dangerously fast now.

When the servants had passed, Astarion looked at you with a grin, but not seeming inclined to move away. In fact, he even pressed you harder against the wall with a cheeky grin.

You gasped, eyes widening at him as your heartbeat thundered and you realised that you absolutely were the dove facing the dragon and yet craved for this continue – to go further actually.

And Astarion must’ve seen something in your gaze as you looked up at him with doe eyes. His expression changed from playful and cruel to something that almost made your heart stop.

For a moment it seemed in his crimson eyes like something was desperately trying to claw its way up to the surface. Something that had been thought lost almost a decade ago. But the moment passed.

Then Astarion pressed his open lips to yours, taking them in a possessive kiss. His tongue slipped into your mouth, dominantly taking it for himself as one of his hands pressed to your chest on the naked skin of your neckline. With so much force it hurt, his hand wandered up your chest to your neck until he could almost wrap his fingers around your throat.

You could not help but moan into his open mouth in heedless pleasure as the kiss continued aggressively, all teeth and tongues, his fangs grazing your bottom lip and drawing just a single drop of blood.

Tasting you again after what had been ten years of abstinence almost made the vampire lord lose control.  He moaned and his leg pressed between your thighs making you feel embarrassingly hot within in mere moments.

But then something changed. Almost as if an echo of what you had seen in his eyes for a heartbeat or two had come back to haunt him.

The kiss softened, his leg withdrew slightly and the hand on your neck wandered up further to softly cup your cheek. It became something sweet and slower until it was almost delicate and chaste, his thumb on your face caressing it with a featherlight touch.

And you felt your walls not only crumble but turn to dust – all the work of keeping these emotions out, for nothing. You were helpless under his touch and as it felt like something that could almost have been.

Suddenly, Astarion broke the kiss and stepped back – way more than necessary, as if he had suddenly an urge to get as much distance between you as possible. For an instant you saw confusion on his face, but a mask of teasing mischief was slipped quickly back into place.

“So, you do still want me”, the vampire said with another grin. “Interesting”, he whispered as one of his eyebrows twitched and his smirk grew. “Very interesting”, he said louder as he turned away and you asked yourself if he was doing it to keep a safer distance from you now.

“I trust you can find the rest of the way yourself, you’re a capable thief after all”, he said and threw you a last glance before he started to saunter off. “And don’t worry, I’ll be checking up on you again, very soon, my love.” He drew out the last words as he walked away without another look.

Of course, he hadn’t asked if you wanted that, but you had already realised that none of this had been your choice after all; it never had been.

And so, the vampire lord strode away, deep in thought about what kind of storm he might’ve started. While you kept standing there some long moments longer feeling helplessly violated by the events of the night.

But in your heart… In your heart you felt foolish and stupid and yet delicately warm hope rising up, slowly.

#astarion #astarion x tav #baldurs gate #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #astarion x reader #astarion x mc #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x oc #astarion x you #fanfic #fanfiction #astarion ancunin #bg3 spoilers #ascended astarion #vampire lord astarion #stars that collide

[writer-ishh]

My Dungeon Meshi Modern AU Thoughts Instead of Writing My Economics Research Paper lmao

Ughhhh,,,, okay have been thinking about them all day and if one person manages to make it through the void and hear me out and talk about them with me then I’ll be happy lol.

WARNING: this is stupidly long, like I spent an absurd time writing every single little detail down. With that being said here we go:

cw//mentions and minor graphic descriptions of death, bullying, discrimination, injury, abuse, trauma, mental health issues, and abandonment

• Laios

- currently 26 and living with his sister Falin

- studying zoology part-time at the local college

- mostly does night classes since he works 1-2 jobs during the day to help pay for his and Falin’s tuition and apartment

- he and Fallin took their dog Muimui when they moved out, they also feed the local stray cats

- lived on a farm with his sister and parents when he was a kid, and is where his love of animals comes from

- however did not have the best of childhoods, as he was a frequent target for bullying due to having undiagnosed autism, and his father was very much a “nothing is wrong with you, toughen up the world isn’t going to coddle you” kind of person

- this was further cemented when he cried going hunting with his dad for the first time and refused to eat any of the deer or rabbit they had caught

- his mom had her own mental health problems that she was never diagnosed for, so often she fell into the same mindset as her husband when it came to Laios’ and Fallin’s behaviour, only she was more erratic due to her fear of one or both of her kids becoming like her

- never forgave his father after he sent Fallin off to a private middle/high school far away from their home, little did he know it was because the severe bullying Fallin was receiving was too much for her, and he wanted to send her away before she got hurt or worse

- nearly tried to run away at 16, however was caught by the police almost immediately and returned home

- completed his high school diploma and took off with Muimui without even saying goodbye to his parents, Fallin nearly joined him in the city but since she was still under guardianship of her parents, she couldn’t leave until she became an adult

- once graduated, she reunited with Laios in his apartment where they now live

- works nearly full-time at Senshi’s restaurant and works part-time as a janitor at their local zoo (he wants to be close to the animals lol)

- very busy but he makes it work, Marcille and Kabru have no idea how he does it without any meds or caffeine

- either has a worn out picture of him and Falin with their old dogs, or has a hand-made drawing of his theoretical strongest monster in his pocket that he looks at whenever he needs inspiration

- both him and Falin live wayyy out of the city center since rent is fucking abysmal downtown

- insists on taking the bus or walking everywhere since taxis and buying a bike costs too much, even if the commute is like 2 hours with 3 transfers

- despite this, he still has a drivers license

- the kind of guy you would expect to be eating leafy green tofu bowls from your local hipster vegan bistro, but is actually the kind of guy who eats the dubious $4 ground beef chubs and off-brand deli ham from walmart

- socks and slides with free college club t-shirts and cargo pants from the gap that come with like 50 pockets so he can carry all his stuff (the stuff mostly being dog treats and loose bird feed) bro has no drip aside from one outfit put together by Marcille

- uses the same highlighter blue and yellow adidas backpack he’s had since middle school, carries literally everything in there

- doesn’t listen to music, but if he does it’s rain/nature sounds with the $2 headphones you get from the dollarstore

- not much of a gym freak and usually just goes casually, prefers sports to working out (will have a protein shake but does not invest in creatine or other pre-workout supplements)

- either uses the same recyclable water bottle with the label torn off from a pack of 50 he got 3 years ago, or just uses one of his protein shake bottles I can’t decide

- hangs out with Marcille and Falin the most often (since Marcille constantly makes excuses to study with Falin at their apartment), sometimes gets smoothies or juice with Kabru if they run into each other

- hangs out with Senshi and Chilchuck less often, their time spent together is usually limited to having a beer after closing the restaurant or meeting together with everyone else to have dinner every couple months

- goal is to become a wildlife biologist when he graduates

- more to add if I think of it

• Fallin

- currently 23 and lives with Laios

- in her second year of studying veterinary medicine at their city’s main university

- grew up with Laios and her parents on their farm, also developed a deep love and appreciation for animals early on, but while Laios was more interested in the study of their behaviour, she was more interested in healing them

- also has undiagnosed autism like her brother, only when it came to her behaviours, she stood out a lot more and was subsequently bullied heavily for stimming, having major sensitivities to light and sound, self-isolating, talking to inanimate objects or “ghosts”, having a special interest in things like bugs or plants, and having a very specific schedule that adults had to help her with

- never really understood why adults or other children treated her differently, as she thought it was normal for everyone, however was still affected by having no friends aside from her brother during her younger years

- the bullying got so bad that kids began physically tormenting her, and since she never told Laios (who was in middle school and couldn’t always be with her), there was essentially no one to defend her

- very sadly culminates in an incident where she was intentionally locked in a graveyard overnight, and although she didn’t sustain any injuries she was fairly traumatized by the event, it was the final straw for her father to send her away to a private school at 12 years old to finish her education

- moved to a different city the next year where she stayed in dormitories, had her own room due to enrolling late

- also initially had a hard time making friends, and often cried since she couldn’t be with Laios, however no one bullied her for her autism and most often ignored her or gossiped

- had Marcille as a “buddy” to help her get acclimated to school life, however their relationship was quite awkward initially as Marcille thought she was unnerving and frankly a little stupid, however was completely shocked at Fallin’s nearly perfect grades

- school policy at that time stipulated that students had to return to the main hall for dinner at a certain time, however when Fallin doesn’t show up, Marcille has to look for her

- she finds Fallin at her secret hangout spot, similar to her dungeon in the anime, a corner with a group of trees and thick bushes that opened up into a grassy nook and a little pond, there they talk about what she does there and why she skips

- also similar to the anime, a fox (rather than a slime) catches them by surprise, but as Marcille tries to get it to run away by throwing rocks at it, Fallin stops her and explains it never comes closer than the tree line, she then points out that hurting while it’s already injured (has a slight limp) will cause it to die, allowing for the prey animals like squirrels and rabbits to eat away at most of the fauna surrounding the school, basically emphasizing the importance of all animals in an ecosystem and how it’s wrong to try and shift the ecosystem solely for our comfort or benefit (cheesy I know but it’s for the plot)

- she then offers Marcille the raspberries that grow on some of the bushes, and soon after Marcille asks if she would like to be friends

- they remain as friends in school only for another year, as Marcille graduates early and leaves Fallin behind much to her heartbreak, however does promise that she’ll visit and reunite with her soon

- by the time she graduates, she moves in with Laios and begins attending the same university as Marcille, there their friendship is reaffirmed, and they both start to develop feelings for one another

- full-time student but does work a few shifts at one of her university’s coffee shops whenever she can (tends to feel guilty about Laios helping her out with tuition on top of taking care of everything at home)

- in the honours program, and although she gets good grades her commitment is often questioned due to her habit of skipping

- reason for skipping is because she often does volunteer work at a nearby veterinary clinic

- unlike Laios, Fallin likes to bike to and from her classes

- it’s her main source of exercise, though she also does go to the gym if she has time, girl is absolutely built and is much stronger than she appears

- lives off of daily sweet treats and fried bologna sandwiches or tomato soup made by Laios

- frequently raids the raspberry bush growing outside hers and Laios’ apartment building, as well as the crabapple tree that technically belongs to the house next door but has its branches growing over the fence separating them

- also does not rely on excessive caffeine, but she does enjoy tea and coffee unlike Laios

- has a fjällräven backpack that Marcille gifted her for her birthday, mostly full of her textbooks but she does use it to carry rocks or sticks she finds interesting

- water bottle is a very dented bright pink hydro flask (also gifted to her by Marcille)

- has the jean shorts, tucked in t-shirt, and long cardigan look on lockdown, also wears hiking boots or converse, rarely is she seen in flipflops

- no make-up either, Marcille had to practically beg her to at least start using a clear lipgloss

- isn’t picky about music and usually just listens to whatever Marcille or Laios plays, sometimes she indulges in some lofi hiphop beats if she’s studying

- obviously best friends with Marcille but does not know she has a crush on Marcille, and thinks that her intense feelings of love and happiness are just normal girl friendship feelings (oh you poor thing)

- only vaguely knows of Senshi through the leftover food Laios sometimes brings home after his shifts, with Chilchuck she is more familiar since she sometimes visits him with Marcille on the weekends

- favourite thing is when her, Laios, Marcille, Izutsumi, Chilchuck, and Senshi all gather to get dinner together

- when it comes to her parents, she still maintains contact unlike Laios, though her messages tend to be generalized or cordial (not necessarily her intention it’s just she isn’t sure what to talk about in regards to her life beyond school)

- goal is to become a travelling wildlife vet

- more to add when I think of it

• Marcille

- is currently 26 and lives by herself (due to it being a modern au I’m imagining all races have the same lifespan of around 70-80 years)

- had probably the most normal upbringing and early adulthood out of all of the characters, both of her parents were very loving and attentive, always encouraging her and supporting her keen intellect through her hobbies

- however, they weren’t always around due to being very busy as government lawyers and often working late, she has very distinct memories of winning math and science awards as a child, looking out towards the crowd only to see her parents weren’t there

- was generally quite lonely during her childhood since she had no siblings or cousins to play with, a similar situation at school where most kids considered her stuck up or bossy when in reality she was just smart and was blunt about telling people when they were wrong about something

- is very close with Chilchuck, having known him and his family since she was little, although them all getting together was fairly rare, some of her fondest memories have been when they’d go on family trips together and she would get to play with Chilchuck’s daughters

- lost touch with him from ages 9-15 but reunited with him at 16 while he crashed at their place after his work injury and during his divorce, became very close with him during this time and developed a deep familial fondness for him despite all his teasing

- at 19 years old, she suffered a great deal of mental anguish as Chilchuck began to lose contact with her, Fallin was considering moving to a different city for university, and her father died due to a very sudden and unexpected stroke, she felt as though everyone in her life was slipping through her grasp and as a result, developed severe depression that would last until she completed her masters

- luckily, she had a good support system during that time and she was able to make it through the worst of it, however she still does struggle with motivation over simple tasks such as doing her hair or brushing her teeth

- her mood and outlook is much better though, having mostly returned to the same bubbly and dramatic personality that she once had

- is best friends with Fallin, and met her while at private school, mostly explained above, but her initial reaction of Fallin was quite negative before switching around after she realized that her way of thinking isn’t always the right one, even if the facts are right, her perspective and way of interpreting them isn’t always going to be sound

- this new perspective is what caused Marcille to become so enamoured with Fallin, eventually becoming a stupid crush that sticks with her to this day

- has her own studio apartment downtown, brand new building and everything (both parents are government lawyers so you can imagine the kind of money she has lmao)

- has a fawn floppy-eared bunny named Ambrosia

- despite her wealth, she doesn’t look down on her friends whatsoever, if anything she buys them expensive gifts as an act of kindness rather than an act of arrogance or condescension

- in the middle of attaining her phd in microbiology while doing independent research specializing in the study of telomere function

- attends the same university as Fallin

- graduated from high school at 16 and was done with her undergraduate by 19 and her masters by 21, a lot of people tend to think she’s full of herself but she often disregards them as people who don’t try hard enough

- born to carry her baby blue apple ecosystem in a cute tote bag, forced to haul her 7 biology textbooks in an ugly ass dark purple swissgear backpack she picked out when she was 12

- she has an unhealthy addiction to coffee and diet coke, literally cannot function without at least one per day

- cannot cook to save her life, lives exclusively off of pre-made grocery store meals or the sandwiches her university’s grab-n-go store sells, the kitchen aid mixer in her kitchen is practically a decoration at this point

- is actually the kind of person to be eating the leafy green tofu bowl from the local hipster vegan bistro

- has her own car and license, but lives close enough to her university to walk, Laios cannot fathom why she pays insurance every month for it but hardly uses or let anyone else use it

- I personally think she likes to rollerblade too

- jogging is her main form of exercise, but will also do yoga or calisthenics occasionally, probably the type of person to fall for a juice cleanse scam until Laios or Chilchuck scolds her for not eating enough

- I feel like she would be an intense swiftie (sorry :3) other than that, she likes the typical pop radio stuff that is played constantly

- at least she’s not a Stanley cup girl, she will use her scuffed gallon water bottle with the printed times of day until she dies

- very fashionable and loves to wear makeup, like wide leg pants or pleated skirts with penny loafers and cutesy blouses, a firm believer that any Korean makeup brand is far superior than anything Sephora could offer

- practically attached to the hip with Fallin, girl will find any excuse to study with her (the most pathetic sapphic ever someone put her out of her misery)

- otherwise, she’s buddy-buddy with Laios and Kabru but that’s about the extent of it, she’s known Chilchuck since she was little so he’s like an uncle to her

- she is quite friendly with Senshi and enjoys his cooking but hasn’t known him for a long time like the others, Izutsumi she treats like a little sister/niece and is always buying her things

- more to add when I think of it

• Chilchuck (you can tell he’s my fav because he has one of longest backstories lmao)

- currently 49 and living with Senshi and Izutsumi

- owns a two bedroom bungalow outside of downtown but still within the city, saved up for it after his divorce

- used to live in the suburbs with his ex-wife and daughters, but before that it was a shitty apartment close to where Laios lives now

- teen father, had Mayjack when he and his wife were 17 and had to graduate early so they could move out, they had Fullertom soon after and then Puckpatty by the time they were both 20, they got married at 22

- since neither could afford university at the time, Chilchuck went straight into a locksmithing trades program so he could have a decent income, his father had instilled a deep sense of responsibility and honour towards being a provider so he threw himself into his work which caused his and his wife’s initial frustration with one another

- when he was done apprenticing and when the kids were old enough to go to school, his wife went to university to begin studying teaching so she could become a professor, despite having to be home more often, Chilchuck still remained somewhat emotionally detached from his family

- by the time his daughters entered middle school, they had bought a house in the suburbs and his wife became qualified to teach

- feeling pressured by the mortgage, debt, and having to save for his daughter’s college, he began drinking more and taking a lot more hours at work, if he wasn’t working he was at the bar with his coworkers, he often didn’t come home until it was very late

- the final straw for his wife was when he showed up to work severely hungover and exhausted, then proceeded to nearly die in a home renovation project (passed out standing up and fell of a 20ft scaffolding, broke his hip and pelvis pretty badly as well as his humerus and quite a few of his ribs, also had a life-threatening brain bleed due to a skull fracture)

- at that point, all three of his daughters were already in university or trade school so his wife moved out and sold their house while Chilchuck was recovering in the hospital, she moved into a townhouse closer to the city’s main university where she still lives now with Fullertom

- having basically nothing in his savings, he crashed at Marcille’s parent’s place until he could save up a bit and get an apartment or townhouse (he and Marcille’s dad were friends in high school), essentially lived on their couch for about two years

- during this time, he became known as “Uncle Chil” by 16 year old Marcille and he developed a close uncle/niece relationship with her

- teased her as much as any uncle would, but also took her out shopping every couple of months, could never afford the stuff she wanted but he always got her lunch

- eventually, he saved up enough for the down payment of the two bedroom bungalow he lives in now and moved in, initially lost touch with Marcille but started being there for her more after her dad died, even began getting in touch with his daughters again at Marcille’s suggestion

- from then on, he took his work life more easily and tried to make time for himself in between shifts so that he didn’t feel he needs to drink himself stupid every time he came home, tried to pick up multiple hobbies and eventually settled on pottery making and brewing his own alcohol (that he sells…. mostly lol)

- meets Senshi at 42 when he is called in to install the locks and security system of the new restaurant Senshi is building, initially they had not been super friendly with each other, as Chilchuck found it infuriating how Senshi kept on wanting changes to be made to his security system, and how he was basically a walking construction accident waiting to happen

- once everything was finished however, Senshi offered Chilchuck a free dinner at his place as an apology for being stubborn, and unable to say no to free food (and alcohol) Chilchuck agrees

- they become friends after the dinner, however proceed to dance around each other for another 4 years until Marcille threatens to tell Senshi about Chilchuck’s feelings if he doesn’t confess himself

- Chilchuck does eventually confess (during a very charged “guy’s trip” to a resort in Mexico) and they start dating, after the trip, Senshi and Izutsumi move into Chilchuck’s place where they still currently live

- thanks to living with Senshi, Chilchuck adopts a more healthy lifestyle where he stops smoking, eats more, and drinks less, in return, he helps Senshi manage Izutsumi during her teen years as well as help out around his restaurant when he has time

- is generally living comfortably now, with a nice salary and more free time to commit to his hobbies, despite this he still deeply cares about his work and is a union man at heart who is always willing to rally behind his coworkers and organize when something happens

- mostly listens to 80s dad rock and some 90s grunge, is very proud of his CD collection

- dresses similar to Laios, however ditches the college club t-shirt and cargo shorts for polos shirts and chino shorts or dress shirts and casual slacks, also wears tacky boomer sandals for his feet or his construction boots

- drives a land rover defender that he bought in high school, cares for it deeply but isn’t a car guy by any means, he does the bare minimum maintenance to keep it safe and functional

- carries his minimal stuff in a sling bag and lunch cooler, but he also has a survival backpack in the back of his land rover for emergencies

- is a Stanley cup owner, has two, one from the 70s that his dad gave to him, and another white modern one from Marcille, his older one is covered in princess stickers from when his daughters were young

- pretentious black coffee drinker, makes fun of Izutsumi all the time for the amount of simple syrup and cream she puts into her iced coffee

- is okay at cooking, but is definitely more of a grill master, never ask him to deep fry anything though

- is also surprisingly handy thanks to the skills his dad passed onto him, speaking of his family, he isn’t very close to his mother and siblings since they all moved back to their home continent after Chilchuck graduated, he still sometimes travels alone on special holidays or on the anniversary of his father’s death but only if he can afford it

- is now a supervisor of his own crew, initially he wanted to own his own locksmith company, but he also wants to retire soon so he needs to save up as much as he can

- has two main friend groups, one he refers to as “the freaks” which includes Laios, Marcille, Fallin, Kabru, Izutsumi, and Senshi, and the other he refers to as “work” which includes Namari, Mickbell, Kuro, and Dandan

- is closest to Senshi and Marcille, seeing them as his family, however is a bit more distant with Izutsumi since he doesn’t want to automatically take on a “step-dad” role in her life, the reasoning mainly stems from his respect of her and her decisions on who she gets to let in her life, but is also because he wants to avoid things becoming awkward between them

- is, if not begrudgingly, friendly with Laios and Fallin, deep down he cares about them more than he lets on, is mostly cordial with Kabru

- is surprisingly close to Namari, however they keep their relationship strictly within their workplace and the bar they sometimes hit up afterwards

- is closer to his ex-wife and daughters now, having dinner once a month at his ex-wife’s house, they still haven’t really reconciled but they’ve allowed each other to move on

- more to add when I think of it

• Senshi (also super long please forgive me)

- is currently 52 and living with Chilchuck and his adopted daughter Izutsumi

- lives in Chilchuck’s house, but used to own a condo near the restaurant he used to work for

- when he was a child, he lived on an entirely separate continent in the remote far north, the village he grew up in was known for its mining industry, most of the community including his parents were miners, however an accident killed his father and cancer killed his mother when he was a baby, so his father’s friend Gillin took Senshi in when he was 2

- due to the mining culture surrounding the village, it was expected that Senshi also become a miner when he grew up, this coupled with the hyper-masculine ideas of honouring his late father and carrying on the bloodline, made Senshi not really put in much effort into school since he believed it had no use for him, a decision that would later hinder his career and degree options greatly

- once graduated from high school, Gillin immediately had Senshi take his safety courses and get his certification so he could get a job as soon as possible, with some references from Gillin himself, Senshi was able to land a beginner’s position within the company Gillin was in

- worked 7 years mining coal until the mine ran dry and he had to look for work elsewhere, jumped positions between 3-4 companies over another 8 years mining iron and copper until he landed a 2 year contract at a remote but booming silver mine

- was put into a 6 man team composed of himself, Gillin, Brigan, Invar, Totan, and Noor, where they would descend into a highly unregulated and dangerous mountain mine and extract the massive veins of silver, they all were paid well, but the conditions were next to abysmal

- 1 year and 9 months into the contract, a rockslide on the south side of the mountain caused a cheap tunnel support to collapse over the only exit leading out of the stope they were mining in, effectively trapping them indefinitely

- luckily they had a ventilation shaft, but none of them could fit inside and escape or yell for attention since they were trapped over 200ft deep and 500ft in the mountain, so their only option was to ration their food and wait for help to arrive

- they do try to escape in other ways, such as mining through the collapsed support, however this only leads to injury among the group, and as much as Senshi wanted to help, he was under strict instruction by Gillin not to over-exert himself, even though he wasn’t a kid anymore, he still had the most strength and wits among them all, this also results in him receiving the most food much to Brigan’s rage

- in an attempt to be useful, Senshi started drawing up the maps of the mine to see if there was a tunnel close by they could mine into

- as more time passes and they realized no one would be coming to help them, their escape attempts become much more desperate, one attempt to blow up the collapsed tunnel entrance with their remaining explosives leads to the death of Totan, another attempt to start mining over the collapsed tunnel entrance leads to the death of Noor, one last attempt to remove the panelling lining the ventilation shaft so they could be able to fit through leads to the death of Invar, leaving only Brigan, Gillin, and Senshi left

- after six weeks of being trapped under ground, Brigan mentally snaps and tries to cannibalize Senshi so they could eat his flesh, this leads to a physical altercation between Gillin and Brigan which ends in an unstable overhang of rock to collapse and crush Brigan and for Gillin to succumb to his wounds and exhaustion

- alone and starving, Senshi realizes he is now skinny enough to fit through the ventilation shafts and crawl his way out, he uses a combination of ropes and support spikes to help aid him, but soon quickly realizes he mostly has to navigate in the dark

- for two more weeks, Senshi follows the map he memorized and the feeling of airflow to make his way out, only surviving off of his remaining water, in the end he managed to crawl out of a shaft just outside the mining camp

- relived and also deeply saddened, Senshi remains near the shaft until some workers doing a perimeter check find him in the morning, he is promptly taken into the hospital to treat his injuries

- after explaining the situation to the police and his boss, his boss offers him a $30,000 payout to keep quiet and say nothing, the officers say it is possible to take his boss and the company to court, however it would likely put him into massive debt trying to find a good lawyer, in the end Senshi takes the money and leaves the camp for his village

- what’s left to him by Gillin is another $50,000 in savings and property assets, the rest is given to his remaining family, the first thing Senshi buys with the money is his adamantine pot and mythril knife, using both to make a soup Gillin would often feed him, and leaving five bowls of it outside of the collapsed silver mine before moving out of his village for good at aged 35

- he moves to the continent and city where all the other characters are currently living, buying his condo and deciding to enter into 4 year culinary school program

- during these 4 years, Senshi comes to realize that cooking is his true passion, finding it immensely rewarding and fulfilling, and even though he didn’t make many friends due to his unorthodox taste and recipes, it was still the most happy he’s ever been

- about 1 year after graduating and getting a job as the main line cook for a high end restaurant, Senshi meets and adopts 5 year old Izutsumi

- he initially sees her wandering around the green belt outside and behind the restaurant, kicking rocks and occasionally running and hiding in trees, he was always worried she was homeless, however would always see she was gone by the time he was done his shifts

- around five months of this, Izutsumi notices and begins to approach Senshi, as if she had wanted food, Senshi would usually offer some of his packed lunches or leftovers and she would always accept and sit next to him while they ate

- Izutsumi usually never spoke but was always ravenous, Senshi often worried that she was being abused, but whenever he would ask she would always say no, and since she was a healthy weight and never had any bruises or welts, Senshi reluctantly believed her, after that though he began packing more food

- eventually, a woman (Maizuru) approaches Senshi after one of his shifts and bluntly asked if he would like to take care of Izutsumi from then on, baffled he asked who she was and why she knew he was feeding Izutsumi, and she explained that she is her caretaker

- she also explained that since Izutsumi seemed to trust and respect Senshi the most, that he would be the best person to give her a chance at a normal life and raise her into an adjusted adult, due to the fact that she has no regard or interest or respect in her or the rest of her foster family, she then conceded that her question was rather sudden, but still implored Senshi to take her into his care or otherwise she would be forced into an orphanage

- thinking of Gillin, and with the wound of his crew’s death still in his mind Senshi, perhaps impulsively, agrees to take Izutsumi in, much to Maizuru’s delight and thankfulness

- the next day, she returns with Izutsumi and her things and tells Senshi that she will handle most of the legal paperwork aside from the few forms that he will have to sign

- from that point onward, he took care of Izutsumi and made sure she got through school, although she wasn’t completely responsive and obedient, he was still very patient and understanding with her, except for the first few times she would keep on running away from school to join him for his lunch breaks

- they have a very trusting relationship with one another, and Senshi is the only one Izutsumi will open up to, Senshi often encouraged her talent of athleticism by signing her up for various sports, he was and still is very attentive towards her needs and is always feeding her the things she likes (and dislikes)

- Senshi works at the restaurant for another 9 years, simultaneously saving up for his own restaurant and saving for Izutsumi’s college, at age 45 he meets Chilchuck during the construction of his restaurant and they form a close friendship

- subsequently, he is introduced to Marcille, Fallin, Laios, and even Kabru, but still mostly interacts with Chilchuck and Itsuzumi

- however he is quite close with Laios since he works as a server at his restaurant and is very enthusiastic about his cooking technique, flavour pallet, and types of dishes he serves

- at age 49, he officially opens his restaurant and starts dating Chilchuck, the three of them all move in together and become a household unit

- is now very happy with where he is at in life, works and manages his restaurant while still making time for Izutsumi and her hobbies, is very close with Chilchuck and becomes the first person he opens up to about his past and what he went through, generally the grossest and most sappiest old couple you will ever meet

- made a Senshi-sized hole deep into the fabric of Chilchuck’s home, converting his backyard into a full vegetable and flower garden that he maintains, is super proud about it and often leaves the prettiest flowers on Chilchuck’s side of the bed or in a vase on Izutsumi’s bedside table

- head-chef and owner of his restaurant, his favourite part is being able to cook what he wants for a very specific audience (people like Laios)

- his food is not super high-end but also not like a family diner either, a healthy mix of both, like kid friendly while still being classy and opulent enough to take someone out on a date there

- drives his beloved suzuki carry to and from work every day, does a good job maintaining it on his own despite it being boring according to him

- I honestly don’t really know what Senshi would listen to, I feel like the most in character for him would be folk music from his home country or bossa nova i can’t really decide

- coffee with lots of sugar but no cream or milk, prefers drinking black tea with milk and honey if he has a choice

- bag is a basic backpack with minimal items like wallet, keys, lipbalm, mints, etc… always has a change of clothes in case his gets dirty at work, also has extra hair and beard nets, some stuff for Izutsumi is in there too

- water bottle is also a vintage stanley cup, but his is wayyy more dented than Chilchuck’s and older (from like the 50s) refuses to buy anything else until it is unusable, has had the same piece of duct tape sealing a leak near the bottom for the past 20 years

- also can’t decide if he’s a t-shirt or Hawaiian shirt kind of guy, probably a healthy mix of both, also mostly wears shorts or a kilt-like garment native to his home country, lives exclusively in sandals you will never find him in close-toed shoes unless he’s working

- funny story deriving from this fact, the first impression Chilchuck ever had of Senshi (aside from “damn he’s kinda hot”) was “oh my god how the fuck is this guy not dead” due to the fact that Senshi showed up to the construction sight with flip flops, no safety helmet, and no safety vest on whatsoever

- more to add when I think of it

• Izutsumi (still a cat-girl in this universe)

- currently 17 and living with Senshi and Chilchuck

- used to live with the Nakamoto’s as a foster child, however hated living there due to the unfamiliarity and attempts at sweeping her past trauma under the rug and refusing to treat her for it

- life before the Nakamoto’s is fuzzy, it’s implied by her councillor and confirmed by Maizuru later on that she was raised by her mother until she died or abandoned her at 3 years old, was then placed into the care of another foster home who physically and verbally abused her, keeping her chained up in the basement most of the day and hardly feeding her, if not forgetting about her all together

- she was taken in by the Nakamoto’s at aged 4, and had a very hard time managing her due to her stunted social skills, anger issues, and delayed language development manifesting itself in avoidance behaviours such as running away and lashing out violently

- had frequent nightmares during this time, resulting in her becoming very clingy during the night

- would often run away to the green belt close to her house, the same green belt that was connected to Senshi’s restaurant

- initially only approached him because of the smell of food, her prior abuse and malnutrition resulted in an early form of binge eating, so she often sought any sight, smell, or taste food as a way of safety and comfort

- unlike all her previous caretakers, she found Senshi to not be malicious or uncaring towards her, especially after he started sharing and bringing food for her, her ease around him didn’t go unnoticed by Maizuru who then offered Senshi the deal to take care of her

- initially hated living in Senshi’s condo since the small space reminded her of the basement she was kept in, but soon found it to be much more comfortable if she could smell the food Senshi would make

- Received counselling for her trauma and slowly began to get better, however she would still frequently act out or skip school as a coping mechanism, however, Senshi helped her regulate her energy and emotions through signing her up for various sports, she did volleyball, hockey, wrestling, swimming, etc… until she settled on gymnastics and Muay Thai

- has somewhat of a complex towards love and attachment, in that she doesn’t fully believe an individual cares for her or loves her so will often do whatever she likes both because she doesn’t think it affects the other person that much and because it will prevent people from wanting to get close to her and have a meaningful relationship, a complex that stems from her past abuse

- is now in a much better headspace than she was in, as she has two caretakers who are patient and understanding with her, but are also willing to discipline her and prepare her for the outside world, she also has a good external support system and even a friend at school whom she often hangs out with

- she is currently in her junior year of high school, with decent grades, but only because Senshi and Chilchuck want her to do well so she has more options for university

- her best subjects are science, phsy ed., english, has a hard time with social studies and math

- her one friend her age is Tade as they both are frequently sent to the after-school homework program to help improve their grades, Izutsumi is usually good at shouldering off her homework to her in exchange for ice cream or food, but she’s usually caught and forced to do double the work

- Tade is also a foster kid of the Nakamoto’s, in fact she was the one Izutsumi would usually go to sleep with if she had a nightmare, so they never hang out at her house and either stay at Izutsumi’s house or hang out at the local park/mall

- is very talented athletically, and has won multiple awards at gymnastics and Muay Thai competitions

- still a ravenous eater, but with a crazy fast metabolism so she gains almost no weight, still picky with vegetables and mushrooms but will still eat them as long as their hidden in her food well enough

- coffee flavoured milk drinker, if there’s even a hint of bitterness in her coffee she’s throwing it out

- is into most old alternative or indie rock, appreciates Chilchuck’s taste in music immensely, she’s been learning how to play the bass recently

- has been learning basic recipes from Senshi and can manage a few dishes on her own, is much better at baking overall, never leave her alone with the blowtorch or barbecue though

- aside from sports, she enjoys playing video games and sleeping, she likes mostly storytelling or competitive console games like Skyrim, God of War, and Call of Duty

- bag is a simple black backpack that has all of her papers and textbooks haphazardly shoved in with no regard for neatness or organization, on a good day a pencil will be in there too

- water bottle is non-existent, she uses drinks from the school water fountain as an excuse to get out of class and wander around for a bit

- is old enough to drive and has her license, but doesn’t have her own car yet and still has to catch the bus, if she does drive it’s Senshi’s suzuki, Chilchuck let her drive his land rover once and she backed into a pole

- lives in crop tops and shorts, is actually quite fashionable but doesn’t have the energy or motivation to pull anything off, either wears converse, slides, crocs, or doc martens as footwear, most would describe her style as grunge-ish

- makeup is hit or miss, sometimes she can muster some concealer and eyeliner, but for the most part she just washes her face and nothing else, she is big into jewelry though and likes to wear lots of accessories

- has been allowed to pierce her ears quite extensively, as well as her nose, however both Senshi and Chilchuck have drawn the line at any other face piercings until she’s an adult, much to her dismay

- outside of Senshi, Chilchuck, and Tade, she is probably the most friendly with Marcille and Fallin as they frequently visit and interact with her, Marcille especially loves to spoil Izutsumi with treats and gifts since she never had a little cousin growing up

- Izutsumi likes Fallin for her quietness and ability to keep out of her business, however saw first hand how weird she can be when she held up a massive rhinoceros beetle without even flinching, also when she kept on excusing herself to their backyard to go snack on their strawberry plants

- Laios and Kabru she knows of, also finds Laios to be very weird but is less friendly about it than she is with Fallin, his lack of understanding of social cues also confuses her

- more to add when I think of it

AND THATS IT!!! This was stupidly long, I hope I didn’t bore you to death lol. I’ll probably do another one of these so I can include Chilchuck’s daughters, Kabru, Namari, etc… maybe with some additions to the main cast, but yeah that’s about the extend of it, hope you enjoyed :3

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #laios touden #falin touden #chilchuck tims #senshi of izganda #izutsumi #marcille donato #modern au #farcille #chilshi #labru if you squint #dungeon meshi minor characters #this took me forever I am so exhausted #I kinda wanna make a fic out of this but I have no idea what plot line or what character I should even focus on lmaooo #hooray for hyper-specific character interpretations!!

[bandgie]

Predator & Prey

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

a/n: chapter 3!

warnings!: smut, over stimulation

5.8k words

They're a nice family. The husband, whose name is Sammuel, works as a lumberjack. He's a quiet man, but you can tell he's more than helpful around the house as he helps his wife cook dinner. The boys continue roughhousing despite their mom's warnings. All that's left is meeting Abigail, you can tell the mom is anxious for you to meet her.

You softly knock on her door, waiting until you hear a soft yes? from the inside. The room was covered in books. Shelves overfilling with scriptures and littered all over the floor. She picks her head up from the book in her hands, eyes meeting yours.

"Oh," is the first thing she says, "You must be helping my mom with the bar downstairs." "Yes, and you must be Abigail?" You ask.

She stands and walks over to you, closing the door behind you, "That is right."

Abigail sees the way your eyes look over the books. Some in English, some in words you've never seen before. Some look like they're old, as if they've never seen the light of day. You can feel her eyes peering at you, so you snap your eyes to her.

"Watcha reading there?" You point to the opened book on her bed.

An unsettling smile finds her lips, "Come, I'll show you."

You carefully walk to her bed, trying not to step on any of the books before you sit on her bed. She lifts the book and shows you the title "Can you read this?"

You shake your head, it's in a language you're unfamiliar with. "No. What does it say?"

She laughs, almost maniacally, "How to summon demons. Do you believe in such things?"

You look into her eyes, trying not to show how freaked out you were. "Not really," you confess. "I don't think spirits or ghost are a thing. People's imagination are just too creative."

You expect her to be upset at your response, but she seems excited. "Most people would say the same thing, but I know they exist. I've seen them."

Your eyebrows quirk up, you shouldn't be encouraging this conversation, but it would be a lie to say you weren't interested. "Have you?" She nods eagerly, "Yes! Listen closely. I was in this very room, reading when I saw a winged beast. It has feathers dark as night, feet like an ox's, claws like talons. It did not see me, but I watched as it stole one of the neighbors daughter in her deep slumber. They have yet to find her body, but I believe I know what happened to it."

A shiver goes up your spine, you did not think it would involve a kidnapping and possible murder. Feet like an ox? That's not Nyryx, though it's proof that there is more of his species.

"Incubi usually sleep with women while they slumber. However," she reaches for one the books on the ground, opening it and flipping to a page. She aggressively places the book on the ground, this one in English. It shows depiction of what an incubi is with written description.

"There are times when an incubus favors a female human. They'll steal her in the night and keep her until she dies of old age. That, or until they get tired of her."

Despite such a horrid tale, Abigail squirms in excitement. You eye the drawn depiction, trying to make sense of it. The pale skin, the black wings, the animal-like legs. It matches Nyryx perfectly. Why would be drink animal blood then? It clear that he needs something else, why is he allowing himself to eat the bare minimum?

"All they eat is a woman's cum?" you question. Abigail erupts in laughter, clutching her stomach. "You are so crude! I think we will get along." She wipes her tears and scans the writing, "Human life force is a main meal for them. They can survive on any life force, but straight from a human is the best source. Blood is a vital need for them to survive. It is like how water is to us. The essence of a woman, however, gives quenches their thirst for blood and gives them the power to use their energy."

The puzzle pieces started to fall in place. It should have been obvious from when you were being chased from the townspeople days earlier and what they called him. How upset Nyryx got when you called him an incubus. Still, wrapping your head around the fact that he's a demon is difficult. A different species that can do magic? Sure. But a demon? A creature from actual hell?

"So they're from hell? Demonic beings?" You voice shakes. Abigail looks back at the book, flipping through a few pages. "Not straight from the underworld, no. A woman is cursed to bare the child of Satan. The child born is a succubus or incubus, half human and half demon." She continues reading, fingers moving across the page. "It's possible that an incubus can be a full demon though. They go though a transformation from feasting on the blood of 666 children and stealing the essence of their own mother," Abigail actually grimaces for the first time, "Or some are straight from hell itself, created by Satan. These are a rarity though, I don't think we should worry about such things."

You breathe a little easier, Nyryx was born this way. He can't help who his father is, but the uneasiness in your stomach doesn't settle.

Abigail taps your shoulder and you look up at her in response. "Can I confess something?" She asks. You hesitantly nod, worried about what she's going to say.

"I have dreamed of being paid a visit by an incubus in my sleep. I cannot deny the excitement that courses through me at the possibility of it. It's why I learn to summon them. Have a demon please me at my will, take me as I desire." She pauses and looks at you, examining your expression. You do little to hide the confusion on your face, uneasiness settling on your features.

She laughs awkwardly, "I am aware of my revolting fantasies. Yet, I cannot help myself from imagining. Even if it's once, I would give anything for the experience. Even my soul." She waits for you response, and although you're a little repulsed by her kink, an idea pops in your head.

"Are you sure this is what you want? You want a demon to ravage you like you're a piece of meat?" You ask, making sure of her choice. She looks at you giddily, as is you understand her wants. "Yes. I am no maiden, if I'm being truthful, and I would love to believe an incubus can use me to its will. Am I a whore for admitting such things?"

You're all for body positivity and safe hook-up culture. But fucking a demon? You have to draw a line somewhere. "I don't think you're any less valuable as a person because you sleep around," you tell her. "People have fantasies, that's normal. But uh, honestly this is the first time I've heard this. I would just tell you to be careful what you wish for. And don't conjure things up, you never know what's on the other side."

She nods at your response, taking in your advice. "I suppose you are right. Demons are tricky creatures, they could do something I am opposed to." She shakes her head hands grasping at yours. She looks back you with curiosity in her eyes, "Tell me! Do you have any perverted fantasies?"

You softly laugh at her curiosity. It's been a while since you've talked to your friends back at home and the stories of your hook ups. You hum, pondering on what you've always wanted most.

"I guess I've always wanted to try a role-play. Me the inmate and other person the cop. But I can always settle for them eating me out," you share your confession. Before Abigail has time to question what you mean by 'role playing' and 'eating out,' there's a knock at the door.

"Girls? Supper is prepared," Meredith pokes her head in. Her daughter gives her a nod and stands off the bed, "We will be there soon." Abigail looks at you expectingly.

"Yeah I'd love to eat. I just gotta stop by somewhere real quick. I'll be back," you tell the both of them. Meredith smiles and nods, "No worries dear! I'll keep the food warm for you."

You give her a thanks and make your way out of Abigail's room, leaving the upper housed home and going though the loud bar. You shiver at the burst of cold air, you were so used to the warmth already. You grab your coat to secure it around your shoulder better before making your way to the woods, the sun starting to set behind the trees.

Once you think you're deep enough in, you lift your head up to look for Nyryx. It's a little hard to see with the incoming darkness and cluster of trees, but you can make out the outline of his wings and the swishing of his tail.

"Nyryx!" you call. "I have some news!"

He comes down from the trees, standing at his full height in front of you. You drink in his sight, Abigail's previous words getting to you. What would it be like? He's so much bigger than you or any man you've been with, would it hurt?

He folds his arms across his chest, talons hanging out, "Prey, I do not have the patience for your lack of words. What do you have to share?"

You snap back to reality, finding the words you need to say. "You need life force right? Well, I think it would've been better if you specified what type of life force you needed. I met this chick who had these books and the talked about in-...your species, I mean. And I learned a lot about what you are are-"

He's in front of you in a split second, hand grasping your face so your cheeks are squished together.

"What I am?" He spits. "You know nothing of me, or what I need. You hear stories from a human about my species and you think you know what it is I need? Pry, tell me that, what is it that I am?"

You stiffen in his grasp, your fingers curling around his wrists. His hold loosens on you, but he does not let go of yourself. You stare into his black eyes, anger and hurt seem to be there.

"Do you fear me?" He suddenly asks voice quiet. He locks his eyes onto you, looking for any indication of what you might say or think.

"I..." you trail off. "I'm not scared of you." He growls, unhappy with you response. "I mean, you're scaring me now, if that's what you mean. But it's not cuz you're a..."

"An incubus," he finishes, voice tight and irritated.

"Yes," you breathe, "not because you're that. I just happened to come across someone very knowledgeable in that stuff. I want to help you, Nyryx, I really do. But..." your eyes water. You hate to admit it, but you're starting to grow fond of the half-demon in front of you. It's clear he is not happy with what he is. You wish he knew that he is more than a half demon.

"Prey," his nickname calls you. "Why do you weep? Am I that horrifying?"

You shake your head, sniffing and laughing softly. "No. I just...I just want to help you. You're not eating right and I don't understand why. I don't like it when you're upset, and I said I have good news."

You tears fall softly, and you let him lick them off. His big tongue taking them away, the warmth of it makes your legs press together. He pulls away for a second before leaning in close again, this time his lips touching your eyes and cheeks. His other snake-like tongue pokes out, ghosting your lips. You gasp at the feeling, this was more than eating your tears. He was tasing you.

When he pulls away, his hands gently travel down, gripping your throat. "Don't keep this good news to yourself. Indulge me."

You blink a few times, getting a grip of your common sense. "I think I know someone who would let you do you thing at night. You could eat properly, get energy faster." He smiles widely at you, it's almost unsettling to see his sharp canines.

His talons play with your hair, "Do you?"

You nod, but for some reason they way he's looking at you is predatory. "Her name is Abigail." His smile falls. He releases you from his hold and scrunches his nose as though he smelled something foul. "I am not interested in taking advantage of women while they sleep."

"No!" you protest, "Let me explain!"

You tell Nyryx about Abigail's fascination with demons, her fantasies. He is stubborn at first, unwilling to listen further more. Yet, you persist. It's an easy cash grab. And you'll be there for more than one night. It's a perfect opportunity to store up his energy and stay satisfied until the full moon. You show him the bar, pointing to which window is her's.

"It's not even bad," you tell Nyryx, who is still hesitant on the idea. "She'll be into it. If not, you can just leave and we'll come up with a plan b, okay?"

When he finally agrees you show him how to high five. You're happy that you're taking another step closer to getting home, but a weird pit in your chest aches as you picture what is going to happen tonight.

-

You lay in the guest room, stretching your limbs out on the bed. A satisfied groan leaves you. You ate a big dinner and have a bed to sleep on? God has shown mercy on you.

Your room is small, but you're grateful. You have a single window that gives you a perfect view of the moon. You've always loved scenery, it's why you were standing at the beach in the first place. Your memories are cut short when you see a familiar flying beast go by. You sit up, ears straining to hear any sound of Nyryx or Abigail.

Her room is right next to yours, it shouldn't be hard to hear anything. It's not, you could hear the gentle steps of Nyryx's feet, the creaking steps adjusting to his weight. You should lay back down, mind your business, but you're so curious. And a little turned on.

You could hear the soft creaking of Abigail's bed, you nearly squeal in anticipation. Both of your windows are open, so you could hear pretty good even if the walls were soundproof.

You feel you stomach grow hot, your pussy getting wet. Man, you're such a pervert. But it doesn't stop you from hearing Nyryx shift on the bed. You put your back against the headboard and open your legs. It's different for the demon. He's literally designed to fuck women in the most controversial way possible. You though? You're doing this on your own free will. That makes it just a little worse.

You wonder what he's doing now. Is he going to wake her up? Is he going to fuck her with her clothes on? Will be just put it in? Or take his time?

You hand dips through your underwear, touching your warm folds. You keep quiet, softly rubbing your lower lips and spreading your wetness. You could hear Abigail toss and turn in her bed, humming softly. You imagine his touching her how you're touching yourself. He's getting her wet, prepared for what he's going to do.

You push a finger into yourself, biting your lower lip to keep yourself quiet. You slowly finger fuck yourself, staring outside the window. You haven't been with anyone recently, and this whole fiasco with being in another world had you stressed. It feels nice to allow yourself pleasure, relaxing into your own body.

You don't hear any moaning though, you suppose Nyryx does prefer to take his time. Or maybe he's stroking himself. You close your eyes and imagine it. You assume his dick would be the same color as his pale skin, but what about his tip? Maybe a bright red like a cherry on top. Or maybe a dark grey. The thought excites you.

You wonder how thick it could be. Hopefully you could wrap your hand around it, pleasuring him. You stick a second finger inside, a quiet whimper falls. past your lips. You imagine how it must feel to have Nyryx inside you, how warm it would be. You lift your shirt up to have your fingers play with your nipples. They harden immediately from the cold air.

You thrust your fingers in and out, thumb gently touching your clit. You hum, trying your best to keep your voice down. You hear the bed from Abigail's room move a little rough, he must be fucking her by now. But god, do you wish it was you. You wished you could feel how hard he is, how rough he would be with you and lick your tears away.

You thrusting harder, the squelching on your pussy getting slightly louder. You let your moans slip, making sure they're barely audible. You need more though, you want to feel it deep in your gut. You fingers are soaked in your juices and your knuckle deep, but you want more. Need more.

A gust of strong wind makes you shoot your eyes open, and you're staring into Nyryx's pitch black eyes. Your bed dips from his weight, and you jump at his presence. You were about to ask what he's doing before you become painfully aware of how deep your fingers are in you, how your chest is completely exposed.

You yank your fingers out of your pussy, a string of wetness connecting to your fingers. Your face burns with embarrassment, you were caught in literally the worst way possible. He remains quiet, face impossibly close to yours.

He reaches down one of his hands and grabs your hand that was inside of you. He places your fingers in his mouth, groaning at the taste. "What are you..." you start, feeling the warmth of his mouth.

Nyryx takes your fingers out of his mouth, "I should be asking you that no? I arrive to do my thing and all I can hear is how delightful you sound, how delectable you smell. You tempt me with your taste, prey."

"I was going to pay it no mind," he informs you, slowly going down against your neck to your chest. "I found it unbelievable at the thought of your desire aimed at me. Yet, I could hear your pathetic fantasies loud in my mind. Your craving for a demon like me."

He takes a nipple in his mouth, tongue sliding messily across your breast. You grip the back of his head softly, pushing him closer to your body. Your other hand covers your mouth, suppressing your moans. When you peer down at him, you notice two horns onto his head. Those are new.

"Did that book tell you about my abilities? How I can feel the pooling desire from the women I take?" He asks. You shake your head in response, not trusting your voice. He smile with your bud in his mouth. "During the time of arousal, I can sense the human female's wants, so I may get the most of life force she can spare me. The other woman was responsive yes." He pauses, lifting his head up to meet your eyes. He kisses your nose, your cheek, then gives a peck of your lips. You hiss in a breath, feeling the wetness between your legs unbearable.

His teeth nip at your earlobe before he gently whispers in your ear, "You though, you overpowered any feeling she was producing. Your need for me was impossible to push away." His lips travelled down you neck, your chest, you stomach, finally to wear you were aching. Your breath hitched in your throat as you opened your legs wider.

"I'm sorry," was all you could manage. You disturbed his mission, but he seems quite happy about it to be honest. "I'm a pervert I know. I just couldn't help myself."

He laughs at your apology and excuse, sliding your underwear down your leg to hang off one of your ankles. "Do not give me your apologies, prey. Give me your desires."

He plants a kiss on your clit, one hand reaches up playing with your nipple while the other steadies himself at you waist. Maybe you'll both regret this in the morning, but with how much your pussy is pulsating you don't care for the consequences.

Nyryx relishes in your taste, as if he hasn't eaten a good meal in ages. Which is mostly likely true. He licks to collect your juices, holding the flavor on his tongue as he groans, "Fuck the heavens above, you are my salvation."

He pushes his face further into you, not caring about how your hands found purchase in his hair. You moaned as Nyryx sucked on your clit, teeth gently grazing your folds. He experimentally let his lips graze your pussy, placing kissing on your wetness.

It was comforting, feeling the man-beast care for every part of your skin. Nyryx was more than ecstatic to please you, it was obvious by the swishing of hit tail and the twitch in his wings. Your curious eyes caught onto his horns. Not huge, but they were definitely not there before. Maybe they come out when he's like this, you think.

You hummed in approval as his tongue went up and down your cunt, wet noises echoed in the room. Your moved one of your hands from his hair to touch his horn, gently sliding your fingertips against it. He halted for a moment, black eyes flicking up to your aroused ones.

"Do they fascinate you?" He asks in a low tone. He doesn't bother to stop his mouth from eating you, but he keeps his orbs on yours waiting for an answer.

"Yes," you breathe, resisting your moans to speak properly. "I want to touch them."

He laughs at your response making your body vibrate. "You have my permission, prey," he smiles. "I suggest you don't touch harshly, they are quite sensitive."

You grasp one of his horns in your grip, gasping at how slick it is. Almost as though it was dipped in oils to leave it smooth. You stroke it gently, amused by the lewd sounds it makes. Nyryx softly moans at your touch, his tongue getting more brave to dip into your entrance.

When you pulled your hands away from his horn, a string of wetness hung from your fingers. You brought your hand to your lips and licked, curious as to what it tasted like, You could feel Nyryx's eyes on your movements, his smile on your pussy as you gulped. It tasted sickly sweet, slightly salty, but the most noticeable part was the burn.

Not like spice, but like fire. It traveled from your throat to the depths of your stomach. You made a strange sound as it burned, mouth hanging opening as you craved more of the substance. Before you had the chance to shove your fingers in your mouth, you felt unbelievably hot. You felt how much you gushed out onto Nyryx's tongue and how lonely your throat felt. The sudden crave to have his cock deep in your mouth was almost unbearable.

Nyryx laughed almost manically at your behavior. He happily gulped your excess of essence and gave you one more lick before leaning forward to your face. His eyes searched your expression, noting the blush in your cheeks and the swell of your lips. He smiled.

"Is it here?" Nyryx's voice was teasing. His clawed hand gripped your throat softly, running it up and down you neck. "Are you burning here?"

You nodded immediately, a pathetic whimper left your lips. "Please," you begged, "Kiss me."

One of his eyebrows quirked up, he hadn't expected you to say that. He quickly put his playful smirk on and leaned in close, "Only because you asked so pleasantly."

His lips met yours, they were hot and drowned in the taste of your pussy which you more than happy to taste with him. He smiled when you slipped your tongue inside his mouth. Nyryx's hands slipped to your waist and pulled you close, opening with mouth wider. You felt the smoothness of his tongue, your pussy throbbed at how much it missed his soft muscle.

Nyryx suddenly shoved his tongue deep into your throat, not caring about the drool that pooled out of your mouth and his. You moaned, greedily sucking on his tongue and your hands gripped the back of his head.

Deeper, you wanted him deeper inside you. The burn and itch was not satisfied, you needed more.

You pulled away from him despite your body yearning for his lips. His eyes opened to yours curiously, head cocked to the side. Your hands traveled down his back, feeling his smooth grey skin and black wings. He shivered at your touch, eyes closing for a brief second.

Your hands went around to feel his chest, giving a playful pinch at his nipple. His eyes hot back open and he look surprised at your gesture, but wasn't displeased. Yours hands kept going down until you met the waistband of his trousers. You slipped your hand under, but Nyryx was quick to grab your wrist.

"I understand my aphrodisiacs got you excited, but refrain from taking charge. I do not like to be challenged," though his smile was flirtatious, he tone was dead set. You nodded, ignoring the aphrodisiacs he said you ingested.

He moved back so he had room to yank you down fully on the bed by your hips. You laid flat, excitement pooling in your stomach as his eyes took in your form hungrily. You would've squirmed by someone staring at you so intensely, but all you could think about was how much he was going to stretch you out.

Nyryx lifted your shirt above your head, discarding it quickly until you were completely nude underneath him. He followed suit, throwing his trousers off to spring his hard cock free. Your eyes travelled down and your jaw dropped. You legs closed instinctively, that won't fit.

You took in his dark cock, matching his grey tone. His tip was slightly darker, a contrast to the white pre-cum that was seeping out. If it wasn't his color that surprised you, it had to be his girth. The thickness made you salivate, you've never seen a dick so heavy.

You swallowed thickly, eyes peering back to his. Nyryx seemed pleased, taking delight in your surprise. "Do not be fearful," he says calmly, as if he's gone through this before. "I may be half demon, but I am not so cruel to not give you pleasure on my cock."

You let out a breath and bit your lower lip. It's been a while, can you really fit him? Still, you reopened your legs, holding them by the under thighs. He smiled, flashing his sharp teeth, "Good girl."

He grabbed his cock and slid it against your cunt, smearing both of your arousal all over. You whimpered, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you felt his warmth spread. You could feel the veins of his cock, the tip he ever so carefully ran on your pussy. You could feel his grip tighten on your waist as he hissed a breath in.

He humped you for a while, loving how you writhed and begged for him to shove his dick inside. His tail wrapped around your ankle, pulling your leg a little more open. You felt him adjust on his knees, poking his tip inside of you. Your body clenched immediately to slip him in, but to no avail. Nyryx only laughed at you pathetic attempts.

"Please," you cried, still keeping your voice into a needy whisper. "Nyryx I need it, it hurts." "Aww," he coos, leaning down to cup your face. "Is my little human going mad?"

You felt your heart clench, my little human. It was most likely bedroom talk, but it didn't stop the deepening blush in your cheeks. Rather than answering, you cried. Tears falling down your face like you had been cursed at. Nyryx leaned down and licked your tears, humming at your saltiness.

"Forgive me, prey. I have a bad habit of playing with my food," Nyryx apologizes. He places a tender kiss to your lips before sitting back up, this time with determination.

He grabbed the base of his cock and lined it up with you as he used his other hand to steady at your waist. You lifted your hips up at his movements, trying to find a position that would have it slip in the easiest.

Nyryx pushed forward, his tip going in easily. Your mouth fell open when he went deeper, pussy clenching around his thickness. You whimpered, but the pain was still pleasurable. The half-demon was careful though, grabbing a pillow from behind you to place under your hips.

He reached up to stroke his horn for a moment and used the same hand to stroke his cock, most likely to lube his dick up so it could continue sliding in with ease. It worked, finally settling deep into your cunt like it was always meant to be there.

You loudly cried out, forgetting where you were for a moment. It hurt so good, you spread legs more so he could shuffle closer to your body. He softly thrusted once, your while body moving with him. You moaned, the burn deep inside your belly was finally being snuffed out.

You reached up to bring him down to your lips, kissing him carelessly. He moaned into your mouth, moving his hips deeply inside you. You cried pleasurably into his mouth, loving how he stretched you. You studied his face to see he was screwing his eyes shut. It was like he was focusing.

Nyryx was focusing, it took so much control to not abuse your pussy. You were so warm, tight, so inviting to him that he this was more than just a meal. Sure, he's been hungry for this moment in general, but you made him want to indulge in his own dark desires. Taking you rough, yanking your hair as he took you behind. This though, he was content was seeing your face twist in pleasure. Maybe next time he'll take you how he wants to.

A particular thrust made you moan loudly, bringing him back to this moment. You grabbed him shoulders as Nyryx thrusted a little more roughly into you. His wing flared out slightly, as though he was suddenly possessive of your body. He sat back up, a bruising grip on your hips as he drove into you.

Don't scream, don't scream. you told yourself. But the way Nyryx was kissing the deepest parts of you proved that it was difficult. He had to silence you by clamping a hand over your mouth. Not that you minded, you enjoyed his manhandling.

The burning thrust of his cock had heat building in your lower stomach. You clenched around him to add more pressure, letting him know you were getting close.

Nyryx groaned at the feel of your tight cunt. "Give it to me, prey. I'm starving."

You were worried about how loud you two were being. The bed was repeatedly hitting the wall, your muffled wails were beginning to get loud, but the loudest was the skin-to-skin clapping. The indecent sounds that it made.

"Oh fuck Nyryx, please don't stop, please," you begged, muffled. The boiling in your stomach was going to spill out, you just need a little...

His hand left your mouth rub on your clit, spreading your juices all over your lower lips. You moaned. The rubbing was almost painful, but it was so desperately needed in order for you to cum.

You covered your own mouth as you came, muting the sounds of elation into your palms. You groaned with every thrust Nyryx pushed into you, fucking you through your orgasm. You could feel your juices drip down and you're sure there was a white ring around his cock. Rather than letting you up, Nyryx pushed unbelievably deeper, tip crushing your cervix as his hand kept playing with your pussy.

"No!" you cried, words slurring. "It's too much!"

Nyryx gave you a wicked grin, his horns leaking with what you think was arousal. "You're going to take it," he commanded. You were sobbing at this point. You were begging to be fucked, but now you were begging for the exact opposite. Though, a strange part of you loved being painfully overstimulated.

He stilled in your hips, moaning like a wounded animal as he came. You felt is gush into you, his warmth spreading inside your stomach. You moaned at his release, finally spared from his tortuous fingers on your clit.

He pulled out quickly, face going down to face your pussy before he stuck his tongue out. You pushed his head away, but his hands were faster. He intertwined your fingers with his own as he ate you out again, collecting your release and his own.

"Nyryx puh-leaseeee," you wailed. You legs were forced open by his tail, holding one of your thighs apart. He ignored your pleas, he actually laughed into your pussy. "You beg so prettily," he pulls away for a moment. "I almost want to listen."

You think he was going to spare you pity, but instead he laps on your abused, puffy clit once more. You became a babbling mess as Nyryx shoved his tongue deep inside you, making sure to get every drop you released. Your body weakly struggles against him, your sensitive clit twitching.

When he finally pulls away, he notices how wet your face had become. He feels a pain in his chest, perhaps he went a little too far this time. He released your hands from his hold and his tail relinquishes your thigh. Your legs immediately close and you wince at the sensitivity of your pussy.

Nyryx moves so he rests besides you, pulling you into his sweaty chest. He kisses the top of your head as you scoot closer to him, eyes feeling droopy. His fingers gently caress your arm, the other underneath you. Even his tail wrap comfortably around the lower part of your leg.

"Apologies, prey," his voice sounds distance, you know you're falling to sleep. "I was famished."

a/n: okay so it's gonna be longer than 4 chapters oops lmao.

#smut #tw monsterfucking #monster fucker #monster fic #monster fun #monster #demon smut #demon oc #dark fic #dead dove fic #dead dove do not eat #chapter 3 #my fic updates #chapter update #predator and prey #demon