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ladylokilaufeyson5 · 24 days

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Where The Shadows Dance - The Bodyguard (ii)

Bodyguard!Azriel x AutumnDaughter!Reader

CHAPTER II: The Bodyguard

SUMMARY: The Night Court must decide who shall remain to protect the Daughter of Autumn, while also getting to know the princess with a fiery soul.

WARNINGS: More misogyny! yay! mentions of alcohol, tw: beron (we all hate him its ok), people talking shit behind y/n's back, probably swearing i can't remember (also i just swore in the warning so like... it's possible), daddy issues!

NOTE: once again special thank you to my moots @icey--stars and @fieldofdaisiies for reading over my work! <33

WORDS: 2K

Sitting in the quarters Beron had assigned to the Night Court guests, the inner circle debated how to approach this situation they had found themselves in.

One of them was to play bodyguard for the Princess of the Autumn Court. Of course, there were many logistics to sort out, ranging from the most obvious one – who would be the assigned bodyguard – to smaller details, such as whether they needed more than one Night Court member to remain in Autumn.

“I’m telling you, they’re a bunch of snakes,” Cassian said firmly. “We can’t just leave one person behind. What if this is a ploy?”

“That is true,” Feyre mused, “but why bother to make a ploy at all? We fought in the war together, and an unprovoked attack against the Night Court would cause another war. And Beron must know that the other courts would be on our side.”

Amren sighed. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I agree with Cassian. We can’t trust these people.”

Azriel stayed silent, mulling it all over. It was all true — fighting for the same side in the war had brought the courts together, but then again, there were people like Eris and his brothers lurking in this court.

A soft knock on the door prompted everyone to look towards the sound. After a moment, the door opened, revealing Eris, a small smile on his face.

“It is lovely to see you all in a different scenery,” Eris commented after he had closed the door.

“Eris,” Rhysand greeted. “How can we help you?”

Eris went ahead and took a seat in a scarlet chair beside the fireplace, relaxing with ease. Azriel supposed it would be easier to do so now that he was in his own home, but the sight still frustrated the shadowsinger.

“I just wanted to see what you all thought of my father’s… proposition,” Eris said casually.

“Did you know?” Cassian questioned.

Eris shrugged. “I did tell you that it had something to do with my sister.”

“There was an attempt on her life, which you failed to mention,” Azriel stated.

Eris just smiled calmly. “Must have slipped my mind.”

This was exactly what Cassian had been talking about before, Azriel knew. They were cunning and sly in the Autumn Court, and that made them dangerous.

“Anything else that may have ‘slipped your mind’?” Azriel inquired.

Eris turned his gaze to the shadowsinger, a small smirk on his face. Azriel wanted to punch the male, and he remembered the feel of his neck beneath his hands, and how close he could have come to killing the heir before him. He sort of wished he had.

“My father has already chosen which member of your court he wants as Y/n’s bodyguard,” Eris revealed.

Azriel blinked. Despite the fact that Beron had given them the illusion of free choice, of course the male had already decided. After looking at Eris expectantly, Rhysand realised the male would not freely give up this information.

“Who?” the High Lord asked.

Eris glanced at Azriel. “The shadowsinger, of course.”

Everyone looked at Azriel, and the Illyrian wanted to shrink away from the attention. Why him? Yes, perhaps he appeared more gentlemanly than Cassian, as he knew how to keep his mouth shut, but what else? Yes, he was the Spymaster for the Night Court, but Cassian was the general of the armies. Amren terrified everyone, and yes, she’d be more than capable to be a bodyguard, but then again, Amren might kill the princess if she annoyed her.

“Why Azriel?” Rhys questioned.

Eris looked at the High Lord as if he was incompetent. “Is he not the most obvious choice? That one–” he nodded to Cassian, “–has already tainted a female promised to the Autumn Court.”

Rage, icy cold, flowed through Azriel at the implications behind Eris's words. ‘A female promised to the Autumn Court’ was very obviously Mor, and the entitlement in his tone…

“First of all, I have a mate–” Cassian growled, but Rhysand cut him off.

“Let's not argue,” the High Lord said firmly, although silent fury shone in his eyes at Eris's words. “We're all allies here.”

Eris rolled his eyes but said nothing more, and Cassian glared at the Autumn Court heir, clearly imagining all the ways he could rip him apart.

“Didn't Azriel try to kill you at the High Lord's meeting?” Amren mused.

Eris glowered at the female. “Well, we certainly can't have you here. Your mere presence makes the courtiers uneasy.”

“I did save your asses during the war,” Amren reminded him, but she seemed more than pleased that she still terrified people.

Azriel let out a breath. He had guessed that it would be himself who would have to play bodyguard, but how could he do so when his job was one of utmost importance to the Night Court? Even now, with Nyx only half a year old, there were so many threats that needed to be uncovered and eliminated.

Azriel glanced at Rhysand and Feyre. Both had been reluctant to leave their son behind for a week, but they knew it would be much too dangerous to bring him to the Autumn Court. Nesta, Elain, and Mor had promised to take care of him while they were gone, and Nyx was probably having the time of his life with his Aunts.

What do you think? Rhys asked Azriel, mind to mind.

Azriel pondered his answer for a moment. I would be willing to do it, but to leave you without a Spymaster for the Cauldron knows how long…

I think we can manage for a little while, Rhys replied, a grin twinkling in his eyes.

Azriel nodded his confirmation. It was true — his court members were not truly useless without him. Just slightly disadvantaged, but they knew how to take care of themselves.

“I'll do it,” Azriel said aloud.

Cassian looked at his brother, eyes widened slightly with silent warning. Amren appeared disinterested in the conversation, but Azriel knew she was listening to every word. Eris simply nodded, as if he already knew Azriel would agree.

“Good,” Eris replied. “I will allow you to share the news with my father in your own time.”

The heir then got up and exited the room, leaving the Night Court members by themselves.

“I need a drink,” Amren muttered.

The following week was a whirlwind. Every morning, afternoon, and evening, the Night Court members dined with the Autumn Court, and the Autumn Court members also showed them their home. It was mostly Y/n showing them around the palace and the grounds, with Autumn guards trailing closely behind.

Y/n was a different person when she was not around her father. She was much more talkative, and quick to joke and tease. After a few days, it was clear that Cassian adored the princess and her witty comebacks, and she clearly enjoyed the freedom of banter with him. It was almost as if they were destined to be best friends. But whenever any member of her family was present, she would go quiet, and exhibit “lady-like” speech and actions.

Azriel had heard many of the Autumn Court’s opinions of her through his shadows, and none of them were particularly fond. Wild, untamed, unlady-like, and irritating, were the words most commonly used to describe the princess in secret, but Azriel had a feeling she did not care what she thought about them. He could tell that she only cared what her father thought — perhaps not for praise, but rather in fear of punishment.

“So, have you decided which of you will be protecting me after this week?” she asked the Night Court members as they walked through the Royal apple orchard. The apples were the finest Azriel had ever tasted, and he wondered whether there was some kind of magic behind it to make them so.

“We have discussed it,” Rhysand replied, plucking an apple from a tree and handing it to his mate. Feyre took the apple with a smile.

Y/n sighed deeply. “I wish I could go to the Night Court with you. It sounds beautiful.”

While the Night Court members had told the princess a little bit about their home, the Autumn daughter was an avid reader, and had mentioned that she’d always been interested in The Night Court. She would read any book on their court a hundred times, and had learned about Starfall, Illyrians, and many other Night Court customs. When Rhys questioned her on the books she had read, she had become slightly evasive in her answers.

“I borrowed them,” Y/n had said casually.

Azriel had raised an eyebrow. “Borrowed, or stole?”

The grin the princess threw his way had set his heart racing, but he had no idea why. “I prefer the term 'mischievously possess.’”

Cassian had barked out a laugh, and even Amren had smiled slightly.

But as well as spending time with the princess, Azriel had other things to do. When she showed him the castle, he memorised it. He marked every exit, window, door, hiding place — everything. If he was to be her bodyguard, he would have to have the entire layout memorised. For her protection, but also for his. He didn’t doubt for one second that if he let his guard down, one of her brothers, maybe even Eris himself, would try to stab him in the back. Literally.

Eventually, the week came to an end, and the members of the Night Court gathered in the Autumn Court throne room. Azriel supposed that bonds had been slightly strengthened between the courts, but not by much. Mistrust was hard to get rid of, especially when there were centuries and generations of it.

“We have come to a decision,” Rhy told Beron, his hands resting in his pockets. “And my High Lady and I shall allow you to employ one of my warriors as your daughter’s bodyguard.”

Beron nodded, his gaze flicking to Azriel for a brief moment before going back to Rhys. “And have you decided which warrior shall be protecting my daughter?”

That glance told Azriel that Eris had been telling the truth. Beron hoped that it was the shadowsinger who would be playing bodyguard, and it made sense now. Although what didn’t make sense was the fact that Eris had not lied.

“Azriel shall remain behind to guard your daughter,” Rhys promised.

“Wonderful,” Beron said with a nod. “Thank you for this, Rhysand. The Autumn Court shall never forget this favour.”

Rhys nodded at the High Lord, and both of them shook hands, their goodbye quick and brief. The Night Court's goodbyes to Azriel were lengthy in comparison.

“Stay safe,” Rhys told Az, clapping him on the back. “Our mental bridge will be open at all times. Let me know if there’s any trouble.”

“You act as if I can’t take care of myself,” Azriel replied, a half smirk on his face.

Rhys rolled his eyes and brought his brother into a hug, the eyes on them be damned. When Rhys pulled away, Cassian was there next, squeezing the shadowsinger into a hug that nearly crushed his bones.

“I’ll miss you, Azzie,” Cassian whispered in Azriel’s ear, which set him scowling. Cassian grinned and pulled away, Feyre replacing him. She pressed a quick kiss to his cheek in farewell, and before Az knew it, the Night Court disappeared into the void, leaving him alone in the Autumn Court.

TAGLIST: @honeybee54321 @marigold-morelli @lucky7rosie @itsswritten @paankhaleyaar @bubybubsters @5onedirection5 @lilah-asteria @sheblogs @thelov3lybookworm @blushingfawnsposts @thisiskaylin @morganisheree @sleepylunarwolf @bakananya @bookishbroadwaybish @namelesssaviour @glitterypirateduck @sfhsgrad-blog @ash-mcj @feyres-fireheart @ib525 @azrielswhore @copenhagenspirit @eternallyelvish @teenagellamaangel @thisiskaylin @littleladdty

#azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #acotar #azriel spymaster #acotar azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel shadowsinger x reader #shadowsinger x reader #acotar azriel #x reader #azriel #fanfiction #a court of thorns and roses #where the shadows dance #wtsd

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mh073099 · 3 months

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Can I please give some advice for these tags?

Recruits don’t get to just work with highly specialized tasks forces okay? Recruits are people who are new to the military as a whole, in boot camp, they aren’t even considered to be in the military by other personnel until AFTER they graduate boot camp. And then there are special schools and more training for their specific jobs. A recruit is a baby in the military they know nothing! These men wouldn’t ever look twice at anyone lower than an E4 rank, let alone a recruit and E0… recruits are rats. Trash. Nothing. I mean yes they are people but recruits are stripped down to nothing and built back up into self disciplineed highly motivated people. That’s the process a recruit goes into. Then it’s onto schools and more training and experience before EVER getting picked for something like this. So when I constantly read X reader where reader is a recruit trying to get into a HIGHLY COMPETITIVE HIGHLY SPECIALIZED TASK FORCE THAT IS BASICALLY THE EQUIVALENT OF A BRITISH SEAL TEAM 6 ….well let’s just say I cringe and chuckle.

A task force like this would only have NCOs, non commissioned officers and ranks higher, that’s a minimum E4 (ranks start at E1- and E0 is a recruit) and even E4s are unlikely. Gaz and Soap are E5, seargents. A minimum 6 years already dedicated to the military before jointing the task force. also lieutenant and officer ranks star with O, like O1 which is a second lieutenant O2 which is a 1st lieutenant, John price himself is an O3, a captain.

A task force is looking for experience and special skills learned in special training schools. When the Reader in this fic is training to be in these task forces, they should be already in the military, and have experience at least a corporal or a specialist, or a petty officer(im from the US though) In the British royal army, it goes private then lance corporal then corporal then sergeant. I read somewhere it takes 6 to 8 years to make sergeant in the British royal army, is to keep these fics factual, the reader training to be in the task force should already have years of training, working in a special training school to join the task force and should be a higher rank then a recruit.

I love all the writing here, I honestly do. But I also like writing that is factually correct. And it’s small thinks like this that can improve our writing skills, just trying to understand and research more about what you’re writing. Honestly, if anyone has more questions on how the military works I can answer them.

And before y’all come for me about being pro military, I’m a military brat. I grew up on bases my whole life, my personal opinions on it are my own, but I was definitely exposed to this environment and have a unique perspective to an enlisted life as a child of a service member. I’m just trying to help and let y’all know…

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blingblong55 · 11 months

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Would that I-141 & König

Based on a request:

Heeeeeyyyyyy bestay ✨✨ you wouldn't mind doing 141 + könig reaction of reader running around and giving everyone kisses? Like, our of the blue they kiss ghost on the cheek, then soap, and so on? Maybe it could end in all the boys giving back the same treatment?

GN!Reader, platonic! relationship

Reader is the sunshine of base. They always go around giving hugs and spreading their contagious happiness. This time it was no different. You went around spreading your love for them in small physical contact or for some by full blown hugging them. Today you felt like giving more love, so you went around kissing their cheek.

Price:

He was, as usual, in his office. He had been working non stop for the next mission. You walked in, as always, with a bright smile.

'Hi kiddo.' he smiled and let another smoke ring out.

As you sat on a chair close to his, the same one he specifically assigned as yours by his own arm chair, you leaned in and kisses his cheek.

He was taken by surprise for sure. But it was nice, he wasn't much on the affection lover side of the spectrum, but your sweet touches always reminded him there were people that cared for him.

"whats that for?''

"just because."

"hm...okay..."

He acted as if he had no effect by it, but inside he was melting.

'keep doing it every now and then okay?' 'okay.' you reply

Gaz:

He was in common room when you walked in. By far he was the most calmest of all the men. He was on his phone, not minding you as you walked in.

'Hi Gaz!' you smile as you take a seat next to him. 'Hi Grim.' he responds.

'Whatcha doing?'

'scrolling through my phone, why?'

You smile and leaned in to kiss his cheek. Usually when every he just tried to answer the questions instead of avoiding them, that was a sign he was in fact not doing okay.

His eyes widen as he feels your sweet soft lips on his skin.

'what's that for?'

'you deserve to remember that although things are not okay, they'll be....eventually.'

He wrapped his arms around your waist and for hours you two talked.

Soap:

He was sitting by some dusty army truck. Was smoking and looking at the field in front of him. He heard you approaching and a sly smile came up on his lips. 'If it isn't my Grim.'

You walk to him and hug him. He and you always shared your appreciation for the other wit physical contact. Whether it was holding hands and caressing knuckles, side hugs, hair combing, and hugs. He was your go to for this kind of affection.

'the one and only.' you smile.

He was always the one who kissed your cheek, never you to him. You just didn't want to lead him on if he even felt something towards ya. 'yer smell great lad/lass.'' his lips touching your soft cheek.

'you...smell.' you chuckle and he playfully pushes you.

You eventually do it, you kiss his cheek.You smile and he slightly blushes.

'What was that for? not that I'm complaining.' He smiles. You shrug

'Just wanted to.' If only you knew how fast his heart was beating. It was for sure a dream come true for him.

König:

He was sitting under some tree, trying to just get enough energy to see everyone again. You made way to him, only you knew he was here. Because this was his comfort spot. When he was here, he would take his hood off and just rest.

'hi.' you sat by him and rested your head on his shoulder. 'Hallo.' he smiles.

You noticed today he was more quiet, usually he would be ranting on his everyone just starred at him and how by the look in their eyes, they were probably judging his leadership skills. But today, all he did was say hi and smile.

So, without much thinking you kiss his cheek.

He immediately flushed. He was speechless for quite some time but a smile was on his kind lips.

His eyes boring into yours. His usual rough demeanor now softened.

'You kissed my cheek, but why?' his hand on placed softly on the spot you kissed. 'You deserve more than just my hugs or cuddles. Thats why.'

'Kann ich nach einem anderen fragen? Bitte?' He kindly asks and you comply

Ghost:

You were spotting for him when he suddenly stopped lifting the weights. 'whats the matter.'

Unbeknownst to you, the way you were smiling at him reminded him of his brother and mother. He just sat up on the bench and looked at the floor.

You hugged him from behind and thats when you did it, you kissed his cheek.

As you rubbed his back, he turned to you. 'Whats that about?'

He was the one who was still a work in progress to accept your affection for him in physical contact. But, unbeknown to you, he secretly cherished every soft and delicate touch.

'I think you just needed it.'

'Do it again.'

'okay.' and you kissed his cheek once more. He chuckles and looks away. 'You do that around others and I might have to make Gaz my spotter, just do it in private okay?'

You smile and nod.

Tags: @g4y-gr3ml1n

A/n: I am listening to Hozier as I write this and since I have no other name as a title...well..the song title had to do. Bye! <3

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theyhavetakenovermylife · 4 months

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hiii hello idk if you take tmnt x reader requests (ignore this if you dont take requests) but like. can you make an 03 raphael x fem!reader ?? like something with love at first sight,, ykwim :3 something kinda similar to the '12 raph x reader thingie you posted??

Foot Ninjas and Sidewalk Beauties

2003!Raphael x reader

A/N: Sure I can❤️ My guess would be that this takes place around season one or season two, but that doesn’t matter that much.

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Warnings: Spelling, turtles getting their butts kicked, Raph falling in love at first sight❤️

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Last encounter with the Foot was, just say it mildly, an absolute failure. The turtles had gotten their butts kicked and then had the floors cleaned with it. None of them had been prepared for Shredder and his ninjas. It had been a surprise attack, or as Shredder had called it, a warning. And then he left, leaving the turtles injured and bedridden for a week.

Leonardo was not happy. Not happy at all. He immediately started blaming their loss on their lack of training, giving way for him to start a ned training schedule. And Raphael did not like it. It messed with his own training. His boxing that helped him blow off build up steam was now cut short, leaving Raph more agitated and angry. Not only did he not have time for his anger relieving boxing, but his knitting had also taken a back seat. So to say that Raph did not like it, may have been an understatement. Raphael hated it.

Raph especially hated it today, as he was stuck on a roof on a Friday night, continuously doing push ups for what felt like hours. Both Raphael, Donatello and Michelangelo was getting tired, yet their older brother did not yield. He continued, telling them to do the same, to which they sighed and did. Expect Raph. His patients was growing dangerously thin, as Leonardo continued once more.

“If I have to do one more push up, oh high leader”, Raphael growled. “The Foot ain’t the only one that will feel the rage of me breaking their bones!”

“Considering how you got your ass severely whooped the last time, I would have to see it to believe it”, Mikey shot in, causing Raph to growl at him.

“Raph, you know very well that we have to be prepared”, Leo said, during yet another push up, making sure his brothers were following his lead. “The Foot have been quiet for a long time. They could make their next move at any time”.

“Leo’s right, Raph”, Donnie strained as he did another push up. “After what happened last time, we can not be too prepared”.

“Don’t even remind me of that”, Raph said. If his arms weren’t preoccupied in his forced push ups, he would be slamming his fist against the roof. “Those bozos almost broke my sai!”

“That’s why it’s important we up our training”, Leo said as he got down on his forearms. “Plank, now. First to give in takes five rounds”.

“That’s it!”, Raph rumbled, getting up from his push ups, his arms screaming in relief. “No more training! I have shit to do, Leo! All of us do!”

“Raph”, Leo said, getting up to stand, frustration visible on his face. Donnie and Mikey sighed, knowing what was coming. “It’s not up for discussion. We have to be ready for the next Foot attack, and at the moment, we aren’t”.

“Speak for yourself”, Raph growled. “I’m ready for anything! Bring those Foot scumbags, and I’ll give them a taste of my knuckle sandwich!”

And as if those had been magic words, part of a spell, a ninja star embedded itself into the rooftop, in the space between Raph’s feet. All four turtles looked up to find a small army of Foot ninjas, waiting on the tall building beside them.

“Oh, crud”, was all Raph got to say before the ninjas descended upon them.

Once again the brothers found themselves unprepared. Their muscles weak after the extensive training Leo had put them through that evening, they found it hard to keep up with the Foot. Leo was the only one that seemed to put up a fight, while Mikey and Donnie dodged every attack that came their way, too exhausted to do anything else. But Raph was not the time to dodge. With his frustrations flowing, Raph threw himself at the Foot ninjas. But with his body and mind tired, he was easily pushed back.

It didn’t take long before they had backed Raph up against the edge of the roof, with no obvious way out. Okay, maybe Leo hadn’t been so wrong after all. But it was still his fault that they even were on the rooftop in the first place!

Raph did all he could, but with every punch or push he was taking a step backwards, until his heels hit the edge of the roof, causing Raph to go off balance. He tumbled backwards off of the roof and down towards the street below. Even though Raph was tired, the sudden adrenaline from his fall caused him to think fast. He took his sais and slammed them into the side of the building, digging them into the bricks in one hard move.

Raph breathed a sigh of relief, looking down to the street below, in order to look for an easy way down. But what Raph saw was far from what he had expected. Hanging from the side of the building, Raphael never thought that anything would be able to take his mind of the situation he was in, but then he saw someone. You.

You were standing right below him on the sidewalk, in the light of the street lamp, phone in hand and headphones over your head. You cased glances down the street, as if you were waiting for something. Most likely a car.

Continuously looking between your phone and the street, you did not notice the mutant turtle hanging off of the side of the building behind you, his mouth agape as he stared at you. To say it straight forward, Raph thought you were absolutely beautiful. The profile of your face whenever you turned your head to the side, the way your hair fell down your back. The silhouet of your body and the shadow it cast on the ground below you. Raphael felt his heart beat hard in his chest. Never had he thought he would see anyone so beautiful. How could his dream girl be walking the streets of New York City, and be so much better than he ever dared imagine?

While Raph admired your beauty from afar, the car you had waited for drove up beside you. You greeted the driver with a smile, that almost made Raph loosen the grip on his sais. He watched you take off your headphones as you took a seat at the passenger side, before shutting the door behind you. Raph watched, with his heart beat so loud he wondered if you could hear it inside the car, as you and the driver drove away, disappearing down the street, leaving Raph behind with a feeling of longing. He already felt a need to see your face again. You’re pretty face, that he hadn’t had the chance to enjoy the sight of, to the fullest.

A sigh escaped Raph, in the form of a breath he did not know he was holding. He felt a tingling sensation in his stomach that made him feel happy. All the anger he had been feeling a few moments before, was gone, replaced by a feeling of joy.

“Raph!”, his big brother’s voice sounded from the roof above. "Where are you? We need some help here!”

“Coming!”, Raph yelled back, suddenly having the energy to propel himself back up to the roof, using this sai and his own strength.

As Raph jumped back into action, giving the Foot ninjas a long overdo round of a good beating, his mind kept wandering back to you, enjoying the energy the thought of you gave him. Maybe that day's training session hadn’t been so stupid after all.

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riaarivic · 5 months

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HIS - KNJ x F!reader: 2 Clean

💗Pairings idol!NamjoonxReader

💗 Genres idol!AU, Smut, Angst, Romance, Enemies to lovers

💗 Rating 18+ minors DNI

💗 Summary Four years have passed since the last time you saw Kim Namjoon. But now he was right in front of you, with the same stupid warm smile that made your good judgment (and underwear) disappear without a trace. You haven't seen him for four years. But now here you were working for BTS again. Having to see his insufferably attractive face every day of your life again.

But there's something Namjoon doesn't know. The little girl with almond eyes and dimples in her smile clinging to his ex-girlfriend's hip, not only looked too much like him. But she was… His.

💗 Warnings for the chapter: reader has very conflictive emotions about the news of her pregnancy at the begining. This chapter will have some back and forth time skips, miscommunications, pinning, SO MUCH PINNING, Hurt/comfort.

💗 A/N: ⚠️ dialogue in BOLD is intended to be in English if not, they are speaking in Korean. ⚠️

Love, Ria

💗 Chapter wordcount 4,8k

💗 Series index: 1 2

“The drought was the very worst, ah-ah. When the flowers that we'd grown together died of thirst It was months and months of back and forth, ah-ah, ah-ah. You're still all over me like a wine-stained dress I can't wear anymore” -Taylor Swift

💗💗💗MARCH 2021💗💗💗

Your daughter, Hana.

Amid the rapid-fire questions echoing in Namjoon's head, his pulse raced as you introduced the unexpected star of the show—

Who had just barged into the already tense conference room.

Like a small– But charming tornado.

"Everyone, this is my daughter, Hana. Baby, say hi; they will work with mommy." You said sitting her on your lap.

"Hello, I’m Hana. I’m Three years old.” Hana greeted, her innocence oozing charm.

She spoke korean.

That made Namjoon smile.

Cute.

"Baby Hana, do you know who we are?" Jimin asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

She nodded. Did she?

"You are Jimin, Jk, V, Jin, J-Hope, Suga, and… Rap Monster?” Hana’s innocent attempt earned laughter from everyone.

Everyone but Namjoon.

He halted what he was doing, a sudden realization hitting him like a ton of bricks.

She was three years old.

And she looked like him.

Too much like him.

“She’s so polite!” Jimin exclaimed.

“That’s so cute!” chimed in V.

“Are you an army, baby Hana?” Jin inquired, curious.

“No,” Hana replied. “I like Seventeen more.” Jin's shocked expression made everyone burst with laughter.

“Oh! But we’re cooler than them!” Jin tried to protest.

“I’m sorry; she has her interests, and right now, she’s obsessed with Wonwoo from Seventeen.” you tried to explain. But Seokjin was already about to get into a fight with a three year old to prove that, In fact, BTS were much cooler.

Not that Namjoon had a problem with Seventeen.

But he considered himself objectively cooler than them.

He stopped mid thought. Why the hell is he caring so much of what a toddler thought?

"Hana! Here you are!" A tall man with glasses emerged, breaking the charm of the moment. "We apologize for the interruption. Our Hana tends to run too fast. I am Eric Lee, Stardom’s chief financial operator and Y/N’s husband," he added, the unnecessary detail sending a ripple through the room.

The oblivious members resumed their excitement, but Namjoon felt like a computer crashing and about to explode. The mathematical calculations in his head were on the brink of causing a stroke.

If Namjoon's eyes could kill, Eric would be a bloody stain on the floor. Jealousy surged within him, a feeling he knew he didn't deserve.

But your daughter, she was three.

That meant you met this person around the same time you broke up.

You surely moved fast.

The Eric guy apologized again and took Hana from your arms to take her outside. She smiled at everyone and waved goodbye.

Her dimpled smile made Namjoon’s heart do a somersault.

The meeting continued as if background noise, but Namjoon's focus shifted to you, studying your face. That girl, she looked too much like him and nothing like this whoever-I-don’t-care guy.

It couldn't be possible.

He admitted he hurt you. But you would never do that to him.

Right?

If that girl was his.

You would have told him.

But he looked too much like him.

And he needed to talk to you.

💗💗💗FEBRUARY 2017💗💗💗

The conference room hummed with tension.

As the team gathered for a crucial meeting on the North American leg of their Wings Tour. Namjoon, the usually composed leader, wore a furrowed brow and an air of defiance. The discussion centered around their press schedules.

Namjoon's frustration boiled over as he voiced his stance, "I won't be a clown for them. We're artists. I won't subject the group to this circus. Where the only thing they ask us if we had ever eaten a hamburger"

You, seated across the table, shot him an incredulous look.

"Namjoon, we can't afford to cut the press schedules. If we want BTS to break into the mainstream music market, we need exposure. Press appearances are non-negotiable."

He scoffed, "Exposure won't matter if they don't take us seriously. I won't compromise our art for popularity."

The heated exchange drew the attention of the other members and the managers.

This was the third time this week.

And the main managers were starting to think if you were worht all this tenssion.

But you did get them an appearance on the three main late night shows in the US for their tour promotion.

So you two had to learn to get along.

The room crackled as you shot back, "This is not about compromising your art, Namjoon. It's about strategic promotion. We need the media to understand and appreciate you, all of you."

Namjoon's eyes flashed with anger, and just as the confrontation seemed to reach its peak, J-Hope intervened.

"I think it's enough. This is about the success of the group. We'll do what it takes to keep BTS in the public eye, and that includes press appearances."

The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of the decision sinking in.

Yoongi, who had remained quiet, finally spoke up. "I get where Namjoon is coming from, but we have to adapt to the market. If this is what it takes, then we'll do it. And Namjoon, you have Y/N's support. She won't let us down."

You nodded, your frustration simmering beneath the surface. The resolution hung in the air as the team grudgingly agreed to move forward with the press schedules.

The future of BTS in the North American market now rests on the delicate balance between you and him.

And none of you would give the other the satisfaction of a win.

After the intense meeting, you needed a moment to decompress. So you headed to the lounge to join the stylist crew for lunch.

The atmosphere was more relaxed here, a welcome change from the tension in the conference room. The aroma of delicious foods filled the air as you settled at the table with your colleagues.

As you unwrapped your lunch, the stylist crew delved into a gossip session.

“Y/N-ssi, Do You know Ha-young? She’s from the makeup team” You nodded. “She just confessed to PD-nim that she caught one-sided feelings with one of the members” the younger stylist said leaning closer to you “Bad girl. She should have known better”

“My money is on Jimin” one of them said and the others giggled. You couldn’t help but feel a bit bad for the girl who had just lost her job.

Their director was unforgiving.

Just like they have told you on your first day here. Having any type of personal relationship with any of the members was the cardinal sin.

Poor Ha-young, was going to be blacklisted from the industry, a harsh punishment for what was deemed reckless and unprofessional behavior.

Listening to the gossip, you couldn't help but shake your head.

The idea of jeopardizing your career for a simple crush seemed both reckless and foolish.

As the chatter continued, you found yourself silently reaffirming your commitment to keeping personal and professional boundaries intact.

That will never be you.

💗💗💗NOVEMBER 2019💗💗💗

“I am really sorry, doll,”

Yoongi murmured, his eyes filled with genuine concern.

“I don’t understand anything that’s happening,” you admitted, the weight of the situation heavy on your shoulders. You patted Hana’s back as she slept peacefully unaware of the deep wound on her mother’s heart.

One that you would have to mend.

To have the strength to raise a child…

By yourself.

“You know it takes time for him to wrap his head around things. He’ll know better, give him time,” Yoongi offered, his voice reflecting a hint of confusion and frustration with Namjoon's actions.

“I wish I had that luxury, Yoongi. But she’s here. She’s alive, she needs things. I can’t just go and say that I need time. She needs a parent… Both of us.” Yoongi sighed, understanding the gravity of the situation.

“I considered it, you know? Not Having her” your heart sank confessing this for the first time outloud “But, I guess I was selfish, and I resent myself for it. The selfish side of me wanted to at least have this. But she’s so much more than just us. She’s so special.”

“I can see that,” he replied, a bittersweet smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“You hate babies, Min,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood.

“This one’s alright. She’s a part of you too. And that makes her special.”

“I’m scared,” you confessed, vulnerability seeping into your words.

“I know, doll,” Yoongi reassured, his tone softening.

“I don’t know if I can be a good mom to her. I can’t do this alone.”

“First of all, you are not alone. Second of all, you are the most capable, hardworking, and kind person I’ve met. It’s going to be fucking hard? Yes, I’ll not sugarcoat it. But you got this.”

“I want to punch him in the face so much.” You felt the first tears start to fall from your eyes.

“I know, doll. Me too,” Yoongi admitted, the unspoken understanding between you two creating a bond of shared frustration and support.

Yoongi placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, his gaze filled with both empathy and frustration. "Look, Y/N, I know Namjoon, and this is so unlike him. We've been through everything together for more than ten years, and he's not the type to turn away from responsibilities. There has to be something else going on."

Your eyes filled up with tears again, a mixture of sadness and anger. "I just don't understand why he sent his mother, with an envelope full of money instead of facing us himself. It feels like he's treating us like a burden."

Yoongi's expression hardened, a rare sight for someone known for his calm demeanor. "He messed up big time, and he needs to face the consequences. You and Hana deserve better."

"I thought he loved me. I thought we meant something to each other," you confessed, your voice cracking.

"He does, Y/N. I can't explain his actions, but I've never seen him act this way. Whatever it is, he needs to sort it out. Meanwhile, you focus on being the amazing mother I know you can be."

Tears spilled down your cheeks, and Yoongi pulled you into a tight embrace. "I'm here for you, Y/N. We all are. BTS isn't just about the stage; we're a family and both of you are a part of it. Families stick together, no matter what."

As you let out a shaky breath, a mixture of gratitude and sadness, you whispered, "Thank you, Yoongi."

"Anytime, doll. You’ve got this," he reassured, his words carrying a promise of solidarity and support. The hotel room, once filled with the weight of uncertainty, now held a glimmer of hope amid the storm of emotions.

You’ve got this.

You had to.

💗💗💗MARCH 2017💗💗💗

They just got nominated to an international award.

Everyone else was celebrating their milestone.

But Namjoon just couldn't enjoy it as much as he wanted to.

He was happy.

For the first time in his life he felt like they were finally receiving the praise they deserved for their art and their hard work.

But the weight of their public persona and the fine lines they could never cross as idols in Korea, was growing heavier by day. And the endless possibilities of major exposure scared the fuck out of him.

They were on their six date of the tour when he felt like he was going to die.

The air backstage in Newark was thick with the aftermath of Namjoon's exhaustion-fueled breakdown.

You found him leaning against a wall, a cigarette between his fingers. He couldn’t hide the trembling of his hands.

"That's an awful habit you have right there," you commented, eyeing the smoke.

"I can say the same to you," he retorted, nodding at the Coca-Cola can in your hand. "What can I say, everyone picks their own poison." you smiled at him honestly. For the first time.

Surprisingly, it led to the first civil conversation between you two.

You leaned against the wall beside him, sipping your cola, the fizz providing a rhythmic contrast to the quiet.

He broke the silence, "You know, sometimes I feel like I'm just a puppet, dancing to whatever tune the media plays."

"It’s okay to feel tired sometimes, you know?" you offered.

"I do, but being their leader and their spokesperson. I can’t afford to be nervous or too tired," Namjoon admitted. "I speak for myself in these interviews. It is a huge weight on my shoulders to speak for everyone. Sometimes they might not agree with what I’m saying."

"Yeah, I reckon Panda Express being your favorite restaurant in America is a pretty controversial opinion," you teased, earning a hearty laugh from him.

"Do you think they are going to ever take us seriously?" he asked with a laugh and a touch of desperation.

"They better do. You guys will own this industry one day."

He shot you a grateful smile, and for a moment, the weight on his shoulders seemed to ease.

"That is a pretty controversial opinion. I am a 'what’s your favorite American food' away from literally losing it," he confessed.

"You know," you began, changing the topic with a playful grin, "I think your controversial opinions are what make you more human to your fans. They love you for being real."

Namjoon chuckled, the tension dissipating. "Maybe I should start a blog—'Kim Namjoon's Unfiltered Thoughts.'"

"You might break the internet with that," you joked, enjoying the rare camaraderie.

As the conversation lightened, you both shared a laugh, finding solace in this unexpected connection. The backstage chaos seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in a bubble of understanding.

"You'll do fine. You always do," you reassured him.

"Thank you."

As a friendly gesture, you pulled a small disinfectant from your pocket.

"Manager Sejin was looking for you; you better use this before he finds you. You don't want him scolding you for the smell." you said before turning away to head back inside.

Namjoon chuckled, taking the disinfectant. "Thanks, Y/N. For being here."

"Anytime, Joon," you replied, the use of the nickname a testament to the newfound camaraderie

He smiled, and the scent of the disinfectant mixed with your fragrance, like flowers in the air.

As Namjoon walked away, disappearing into the backstage hustle, he took a moment to collect his thoughts.

"Y/N!" A familiar voice called out, it was Sejin, the ever-watchful manager, threading through the maze of crew members and equipment.

You approached him, noting the stern expression on his face. "Mr. Sejin, you were looking for Namjoon?"

He nodded, "Yes, he needs to wrap up the interviews and rest. The schedule is tight, and we can't afford any delays."

You couldn't help but feel a sense of protectiveness toward Namjoon. "He's doing his best, Sejin. But he's human, not a machine."

Namjoon was about to walk to where you were but that coment made him freeze on his feet.

Sejin sighed, his stern expression softening. "I know, Y/N. I just worry about them all. The pressure is immense."

"It is, but moments like these," you gestured to the chaotic backstage, "it is good remind them that they're not alone."

He offered a small smile, appreciating the sentiment. "You're right. Well, let's make sure Namjoon gets some rest."

As you both navigated the backstage maze, you didn’t know he listened to the conversation. And he couldn't shake off the unexpected warmth that had emerged from the brief encounter with you.

The chaotic world of stardom was vast, but in that moment, a connection had formed—one that hinted at the resilience and humanity behind the larger-than-life personas.

Maybe you weren’t that bad.

💗💗💗AUGUST 2020💗💗💗

You had gone to a therapist when Hana was one.

The therapist's office had become a sanctuary for you, you needed guidance on the hard task of being a single mother to Hana.

She was going to ask the inevitable questions about her father one day. And you needed to know what to say. But no amount of therapy could have prepared yourself for this day.

Hana was smart, too smart for her age.

And when you came back from a playdate at her friends house.

She wanted answers to her questions.

"Why don't I have a daddy?"

You two were back in her room getting ready to sleep and you knew that question was coming.

You took a deep breath as you sat next to her, trying to find the right words. "All families are different, baby. Some have a mommy and a daddy. Some have two mommies or two daddies. Some, like ours, have a mommy and all your uncles and aunts. Isn't that fun?"

"It is fun," she replied, but the dissatisfaction lingered in her eyes. She had more questions, and you knew your initial answer wasn't enough.

And now she discovered kpop.

And she was obsessed with it.

You felt like throwing up everytime you saw him on your screen.

The bitter reminder that she deserved to know the truth. However, you weren't ready to shatter the illusion just yet. Telling anyone that her father was the leader of the biggest music group in history seemed unbelievable.

You knew how crazy you will sound.

Even your therapist had a hard time believing your story the first time you went to her.

But, your daughter was the living image of her father.

And you had shown her your old Big Hit contract for her to finally believe you.

"So I don’t have a dad?" Hana's expectant eyes pleaded for an honest answer.

"You do have one. He is living his dream, making millions of people happy," you stammered, your hands trembling as you combed her hair. Even though Hana was still a child, she sensed the discomfort and wisely chose not to press the topic any further—for today.

Later that night, as if the universe mocked you, he appeared on your TV screen. "I want to be a dad," he confessed to the interviewer, his smile was radiant as always. It felt like a punch to your stomach, the wine glass slipping from your hand and staining the new rug.

Fuck him.

He was a dad. He just chose not to be one.

The fandom even had the joke that he had a hidden wife and kids.

You entertained thoughts of shattering his public image, creating rumors that could strip away the disarming smile he flaunted. But the truth was, you could never inflict that pain on your daughter.

As the wine stain marred your rug, you vowed to shield Hana from the harsh realities as long as you could. But beneath your composed exterior, a storm of emotions raged.

Just for a little longer.

She will soon be old enough to understand.

But you didn't look forward breaking her heart with the news that her father didn't want her in his life.

💗💗💗FEBRUARY 2018💗💗💗

Everyone was tense.

The word disbandment floated heavily on the air.

After this morning’s team meeting things were pretty rough.

They were tired.

They felt like nothing was working in their favor.

Some of the members wanted a break.

Some of them wanted to keep going.

He had to remain unbiased.

You knew how unfair it was.

For him and for all of them.

Message from NJ: meet me upstairs. studio.

You knew what that meant.

He wanted to fuck the frustration away.

And you would be lying if you said you didn’t want to.

This was the riskiest thing you've ever done yet. You knew how dangerous it was for you especially. You were breaking your own rule and you were being careless.

You knew perfectly well what were the consecuences of what you were doing.

But you couldn’t get to care enough to stop you from hurriedly hitting the lock combination of his Studio.

His tired eyes greeted you. And a second later you were pinned to the wall behind you, hands everywhere and not enough at the same time.

And you wanted to ignore how much it hurt you that you were just this to him.

A relief.

“I missed this” he whispered against your lips. His tounge tasting your lower lips. Wanting to savour everything before devouring it all at once.

You missed it too.

But you were too stubborn to say it outloud.

And he was too, trying to pretend that he missed this whatever you had going on.

Instead of just you.

As always it started like a fight for dominance. His kisses carrying a hunger that transcended mere physical release. The urgency in his touch revealed a deeper need, one he was too stubborn to acknowledge.

Namjoon steps between your thighs and you can feel how much he needed this. His body is warm against yours as he lowers his lips to kiss down the column of your neck.

"You smell so good" you feel the soft breeze of his breath against your skin. And before you could reciprocate his words you felt the sharp pain of his teeth biting the same spot of your skin he just kissed a second ago.

"Namjoon-" a small whisper leaves your lips and a wave of conflicted feelings wash over his body.

He wanted to drown the world around you.

Where only the two of you existed.

And that scared him.

How much he really needed you.

He lifted you, his grip momentarily loosing his balance, and both of you erupted into laughter as you tumbled onto the sofa. "I'm so sorry," he said, his eyes holding a vulnerability that surpassed the laughter. "I'm just... I'm so tired."

His heart was breaking.

With a gentle smile, you cupped his cheek, your thumb wiping away his tears. "It’s okay, Joonie. Everything is going to be okay."

Your words rendered him defenseless. He was so tired of pretending he didn’t feel safe in your arms. He wrapped his arms around you and you could feel his body trembling with sobs.

He called you to fuck his frustration out of his system.

Just like you’ve been doing for a few months now.

But now on his studio floor he had a realization he wasn’t ready to confess just yet.

Everything else he had been saying to himself about you was a lie.

How he didn’t care; that you were just a passing crush. That he was too tired and too frustrated and that you both enjoyed each other’s company. That you were only good sex to him.

All of that was a lie.

As he kept crying and hugging you on his studio floor.

Both of you came to the same conclusion silently.

This wasn’t just sex; friends-with-benefits secret thing you had going on.

It was something much more complicated.

Something that could potentially destroy you.

The two of you stayed in silence on the floor, still wrapped on each other's arms.

That was the moment Namjoon realized.

He called you for sex.

But he just needed you.

💗💗💗MARCH 2021💗💗💗

A Battleground.

The room felt like it had become a battleground of emotions, the air thick with tension as memories and unspoken words lingered between you and Namjoon.

Right after the briefing ended he had dragged you into a conference room. It had been a week since you had met again and they were preparing to go back to Korea.

He was a sound man now. Not the youg man almost teenager that would have rushed into conclusions. First he needed to make his own research.

Have a few conversations with people.

Because he would never outlive the embarrasment if he was wrong.

But, all Namjoon could find was that Hana was your daughter and not your husband's.

And now you were alone for the first time in Three years, the silence was deafening, the unspoken history between you threatening to consume the room.

In the past, when you were alone with him, confessions of love had been whispered like forbidden promises against your lips in a conference room.

Just like the one you were in.

Today, his gaze was intense, his movements calculated, as if he were dissecting the reality before him. The little girl playing outside in your office seemed like a mirage, a cruel joke that fate had played on both of you.

Namjoon's stare bore into you, and the atmosphere crackled with the spark of four years of unsaid words. Finally, the tension shattered like glass as he spat out,

"Is she mine?"

His voice, sharp and accusatory, slashed through the heavy air.

A small, bitter part of you considered lying, but the futility of it hung in the air.

He knew, yet he chose to ignore it.

"Yes, Namjoon, she's your daughter," your voice strained, attempting to retain a semblance of control. "Her name is Hana Lee."

Two heartbeats passed, revealing a Namjoon you no longer recognized.

The man before you had become a diplomat, his mind working to carefully choose his words, concealing emotions you once knew he wore on his sleeve.

He was deflecting, you knew what he was doing.

You trained him to do that, long ago when you worked with them.

He was controlling his real emotions and speaking like at a press conference.

Another heartbeat passed and a spark of genuine emotion broke through when the reality of his daughter's existence sank in.

"Lee?"

His voice began to fill with an anger simmering beneath the surface, like molten lava fighting its way to the top of a volcano. "My husband’s last name," you retorted, your tone flat, a facade of control slipping away.

"You gave another man's last name to my daughter" his eyes darkened in disbelief and you couldn't help but chuckle at his nonsense.

If he was going to be this cruel.

You could play the game just as well.

You both were used to tearing each other into pieces anyway.

"You weren't there to give her yours, so." your voice sounded even more cynical than you expected to.

"Why the hell didn't you tell me?" Namjoon's jaw clenched, frustration etched across his features.

A bitter chuckle escaped your lips. “Did you expect a wedding invite?”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “I meant… the fact that I have a daughter.” he growled the last sentence through his teeth.

So much for calm and collected.

"Oh, but I tried," you shot back, frustration bubbling over. "Got on a plane for sixteen hours with a baby on my lap. Only to be warmly welcomed by your mother and Sejin with an envelope full of money and the threat to take her from me. What was I supposed to do?"

Namjoon's eyes narrowed in disbelief. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You don't remember. Let me refresh your memory, shall we?" Bitterness laced your words. "You sent your mother and your manager to tell me that having an unplanned child out of wedlock would have 'destroyed you and Bangtan,' that you were so very sorry and told me to disappear"

He was about to speak but you didn't let him. All the things you have wanted to say for four years started to flow out of you like a dam that had just broken.

And the water would destroy everything on its way.

Starting with the both of you.

"They said you didn't want anything to do with us. And that if I ever came back, they would take Hana away from me. That I was just a minor mistake, an experience you just needed to have'' Anger surged within you. "Riding the horse isn't what you call it, right? And that my daughter was just the consequence of my own carelessness. That I should have known better."

You didn't know when you started to shout and now you couldn't stop. You wanted him to hurt as much as you were. "You told them to tell me all that. Because you didn't have the balls to say it right to my face"

"Or maybe you just didn't give a fuck."

Namjoon's features shifted from confusion to a hint of regret. "“That didn’t… I didn’t... I would never have done that."

“You didn't do what?” You turned away, unable to look at him. "You can't just waltz in here and pretend like you didn’t know," you said, your voice cracking with rage. "You missed everything, Namjoon. She's so smart and kind. Even when she feels like there's a missing part from her"

“Y/n” his voice was barely a whisper as his finger touched your wrist, sending electric shockwaves through your body. “I was waiting for you, but you never came.”

“Bullshit.”

“I don’t understand what game you’re playing right now Kim Namjoon, but I’ll tell you something. It's over. I will not let you make fun of us anymore.” Your throat tightened, tears threatening to spill. “You left me a letter, remember? and the text message after that. 'I hope you understand,” you said, mocking his voice.

Your laughter was bitter, filled with the pain of betrayal. "You sent me away, Namjoon. I couldn't just come back after that."

"I don't know what you're talking about. I waited for you at the hotel. I called you so many times that day." he said, desperation lacing his voice. "I waited for hours and you never came. Do you really believe that I wouldn't have taken responsibility for my daughter? That I would send her away?" He was shouting now too.

And he was close, too close to you now. You could bear his presence from a distance.

But not this close.

This close to him you couldn't pretend that your heart wasn't breaking for him.

That you didn't miss his eyes.

"I don't know, Namjoon. When you have a child, a life to protect. You would do anything to keep them safe. From anyone and everything. Not that you would know any of that" The words slipped from you before you realized how low of a blow was that. But you couldn't find yourself regretting it.

"Because we both know what you would choose if it came between the group or us." You stopped and smiled at him bitterly "And I understand, Namjoon. I truly do. You were finally living the dream you sacrificed everything for. I don't blame you anymore for it."

"I understand" your voice cracked filled with sadness.

And you truly did.

You knew how much he sacrificed.

He fought for his success with teeth and nails.

They all did.

And you knew how unfair it would have been to ask for him to drop everything for you and your daughter.

You understood him.

And that was the worst of it.

In a heartbeat anger left his body, and he was filled with the weight of a shared past. Everything was too much, this was too much and again his mask fell just for you.

He lifted his hand to grab your wrist, the small contact of his skin with yours felt like fire runnig trough your veins.

"I loved you, and I always have," he confessed.

The room hung in tumultuous silence, the weight of past wounds and the rawness of the present colliding in a clash of emotions.

You were about to respond when a small knock echoed through the room.

The knock on the door startled both of you, a temporary interruption to the emotional storm that raged in the room. Your eyes never left Namjoon's, the intensity of the unspoken words lingering between you like a heavy fog.

Namjoon stepped back, breaking the physical connection between you. He cleared his throat, the diplomat persona returning, but the vulnerability in his eyes betrayed the turmoil within. "We're not done," he said, a mixture of command and plea in his voice.

As the door creaked open, your eyes darted to see a petite figure standing there, a shadow in the doorway. Hana's eyes mirrored yours, wide and uncertain as she looked between the two adults. The air thickened with tension, the past colliding with the present in a collision of conflicting emotions.

"Mommy?" Hana's innocent voice cut through the charged atmosphere. Her gaze shifted from you to Namjoon, her curiosity evident "Mr. Rapmonster. why are you here?". You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself.

Namjoon's eyes softened as he looked at Hana, and for a moment, the hardened exterior cracked. "I'm... a friend of your mommy's," he said, his words carefully chosen.

"A friend?" Hana repeated in Korean, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. She might be young, but she wasn't oblivious to the undercurrents in the room.

She was smart. Even for her age, and she was quick to understand the things that were in front of her.

Just like him.

You knelt down beside her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Yes, sweetheart, just a friend, and we were talking" you assured her, shooting a pointed glance at Namjoon. The distance between you felt like an unbridgeable chasm.

Namjoon, sensing the tension, attempted a reassuring smile, but it looked strained. "I heard you like drawing. Do you draw a lot?" he asked, trying to engage Hana in a conversation that felt more awkward than casual.

Hana nodded, her gaze never leaving Namjoon. "I like drawing flowers," she replied, the tension in the room momentarily diffusing as she shared a piece of her world.

Namjoon crouched down to her eye level, a genuine smile softening his features. "Flowers are beautiful. Maybe you can show me your drawings sometime?" he suggested.

Hana's eyes flickered between you and Namjoon, processing the complex dynamics in the room. "Okay, but only if Mommy says it's okay," she declared, a hint of protectiveness in her voice.

Namjoon glanced at you, seeking approval. You nodded slightly, acknowledging the silent agreement. Hana's presence had inadvertently shifted the focus, giving you a momentary reprieve from the emotional confrontation.

As Namjoon and Hana engaged in a tentative conversation about art and colors, you retreated to the periphery, watching the scene unfold.

The wounds of the past were still raw, the emotions tangled, but for Hana's sake, you found a fragile truce with the man who once held your heart.

The journey from enemies to reluctant allies had just begun, and the path ahead was uncertain, shrouded in the complexities of a shared history that demanded resolution.

"Y/N, we need to talk" Hyung-Joon reappeared at the door, his voice filled with urgency and you nodded.

You knew this shouting match with Namjoon would bring consequences.

And you felt for a second that you just stepped into the past.

"When I was drowning, that's when I could finally breathe"

💗💗💗💗💗💗 Well hello there! First of all I am so, SO grateful for all the love this story is getting. It really means the world to me. Sincerely Thank you. With that beign said I want to leave a few notes for context and clarification. 1. This is a work of fiction, even if it is inspired by real events and real people. I will take creative licenses to make the storyline make sense. So, some things will be different as it happened IRL.

💗💗💗💗💗💗 Well hello!

First of all, THANK YOU. I am so happy to see all the love this story is getting and it means the world to me. Every comment, like and repost I appreciate it from the bottom of my heart.

And now, some notes for context:

This story is inspired on real events and people. But it is not a real representation or is trying to say that any of this happened IRL. With that beign said I'll take some creative licenses and adapt things that happened to the plot of the story.

2. I fucked up.... math is not my thing guys. Hana is three years old not four. Im sorry.

3. We all want a supportive friend like Yoongi in our lives.

4. The story is written in time skips, but the main storyline is March 2021 'The present'

I'm really exited for you guys to see what's next!!

Love,

Ria. 💗💗💗💗💗💗 TAG LIST: @felicityroth @cuteipat @jjinjo @mochimommy2002 @amarawayne @canarystwin Ps. If you want to be on the tag list drop a comment below!! 👩🏼‍💻✨

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dearmantis · 1 year

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There's no love like our love

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/The Darkling x wife!Reader

Summary: When the Royal Family finally turns on the Grisha, you find yourself caught in the crossfire. Alone, of course. You're always alone, it seems.

Warnings: murder, death, canonical persecution of Grisha, violence, mentioned death of children, sexual harassment, slutshaming, mentions of sex and cheating, suicidal thoughts, self hatred

Word Count: 6.6k words

Authors' Note: I DID IT! HERE IS YOUR PART TWO FOR A LOST EMBRACE! IT ONLY TOOK 76 YEARS! BUT I GOT IT DONE BEFORE THE END OF APRIL (this is also very not edited, and I'm still not a native English speaker).

Also, funfact: I cut the ending of this, just like I did with part 1. There was a whole other ending, but that was basically just a lot of fluff. I wasn't sure if people would want that from this series/twoshot specifically so I cut it. I can't tell of cutting the ending is a good or a really bad habit.

The title is from Lights are on by Tom Rosenthal!

Part 1: A lost embrace | Masterlist

The universe is filled with light. Billions of beautiful stars, all different sizes and temperatures, burning brightly and sending their energy out into the universe to bring warmth and light.

But there is even more darkness in the universe than there are stars, filling the space between the celestial bodies. An all surrounding nothingness that acts as a playing field for all of the beautiful, weird and wonderful things hiding in the endless sky. A canvas for everything else in the universe that hugs and surrounds all.

And one day, at least according to the most popular theories, the last stars will die and the universe will be entirely engulfed in darkness.

It began with a loud burst of light, and it will die quietly in shadows.

That knowledge used to bring you comfort and a feeling of belonging. The darkness became your new home, a special, safe place right next to your husband, but there is no safety and love to be found in the darkness now.

It was predictable, honestly. You should've known the second Vasily allowed the Darkling to travel Ravka to search of the Sun Summoner with only a few First Army soldiers for protection, but you simply didn't pay attention to the signs, too caught up in your own frustration and bitterness.

He didn't realise it either, it seems, because he simply left without even saying goodbye, leaving you behind to run the Little Palace in his absence. One night you fall asleep next to him, back turned towards him to visibly reject his presence, and the next morning he is gone, his side of the bed made and all of his most important belongings gone. No letter, no announcement beforehand, nothing.

Maybe his head was simply too focused on Alina to even remember that he still had a wife.

It doesn't matter anymore.

You're still awake when they come, three nights after the General left the Little Palace.

You're laying in bed, humming an old lullaby – one of the really old ones that you learned because he sometimes sings them to you when you can't sleep – while working on fixing the embroidery on the kefta of one of the younger students.

The disappearance of the Sun Summoner has led to chaos in all of Ravka, and there hasn't been a calm moment in the palace in weeks. You are forced, just like everyone else, to work until you pass out while keeping up appearances in front of the royal family. Everything needs to be immaculate despite the fact that the whole country is in a state of emergency, so you push small detail work like this into every free second of your day in hopes of doing something good.

You're so focused on your project that you don't even hear them approach your windows from the outside.

They sneak around, quietly taking out the guards until they're sure that they won't meet too much resistance, and then, suddenly, everything is very loud.

You don't remember what happens. Just flashes of memories. Little pieces that simply aren't enough to form a full picture, as if your body simply wasn't able to take it all in. Or maybe it refuses to remember.

Glass shatters, loud and unfamiliar steps echo like thunder through the halls of what was supposed to be your home, men with bad intentions are in your bedroom, in your house, in your garden.

And your husband is nowhere to be found.

The air smells like fire, panic and fear crackling in the air like electricity and the screams of the Grisha you swore to protect as if they were your own children echo through the building and outside.

Shots are fired in the distance, you're on the floor, the barrel of a gun pressed tightly against the back of your head.

There are more screams slicing through the night. You think you hear someone yelling your name, but before you can answer, one of the men who broke into your room slams their heavy gun against your head, and darkness welcomes you into it's familiar embrace.

When you finally wake it's to the sound of a gun shot ringing through the air, and though the bars of your new cage you watch through bleary eyes how one of your fellow Grisha runs away, his bright purple kefta unfortunately doing very little to hide his movements between the trees. You can't tell who it is, not in the dark.

A second shot gets fired. You see how it hits the Durast in the head, his body falling to the ground and staying there, unmoving. Nobody goes to check if he's dead or to drag him off and bury or burn his corpse. It's just left right there, next to a large ash tree.

Someone whimpers and sobs, begs for their life, but you can't take your eyes off the corpse. The way it just lays there, like it's nothing.

You haven't seen an actual battle in centuries. The Darkling is too paranoid to let you go, convinced that his enemies will target you in a fight and take you away from him. The thought alone used to turn his eyes cold and hard like ice, his whole body shaking with anger at the idea of you being in a dangerous situation. You haven't seen death like this, so fast and seemingly insignificant, in forever.

There is no triumph visible in the body language of the soldier that shot the Durast, but no shame either. A job done, nothing more. He doesn't celebrate or pat himself on the back. He just sits back down next to the fire in the middle of the camp and takes a sip of water, like the life he just took was worth less than even the life of a rabbit.

The other guards move to check the handcuffs of the others after that incident, making sure that everything works and no one is able to use their powers. Your heart races so fast it makes you dizzy, the fog in your head thickening and threatening to drag you back into unconsciousness.

It's hard to stay focused enough to take the whole situation in, but you try anyway, tearing your gaze away from the corpse. There are nine cages, including yours, one of them now empty.

The Grisha in the cages are, just like you, handcuffed with their hands far apart. Three of them are wearing their keftas - two of them being Alkemis, and you ask yourself if the Materialki were all still down in the workshops when the raid began - but the others, including you, are wearing whatever you wore to sleep that night. All of you are dirty, and you pray silently that none of them are hurt. It's hard to see with the lack of light. The cages all stand a bit too far away from the fire to truly see much.

The men who guard you, on the other hand, all look like they dressed up for a military parade. Their First Army uniforms sparkle almost, their faces clean shaven or decorated with carefully trimmed beards. This was planned. This whole raid was planned, probably for weeks, and you didn't notice. The idea most likely came up as soon as the General returned from the Fold, and no one ever picked up on it.

It feels like a relic from a time you're supposed to have left behind, a time you didn't even experience and only heard about from the Darkling and on rare occasions his mother.

The First Army doesn't hunt Grisha anymore. The king doesn't put you into cages. They just hate you, insult you, and harass you, but they don't physically harm you anymore. Yet... here you are.

Ravka isn't supposed to be like Fjerda, like Shu Han, like Kerch. The Darkling had made sure of that, worked for this one singular goal for centuries, and dedicated his whole life to it.

The thought of him makes your heart sting painfully, and you suppress the urge to worry for him, to wonder where he is and if he's safe. You have bigger issues than him right now. He's fine. There's no room for argument. He has survived wars and centuries of persecution. This won't kill him. He's probably out there somewhere, completely safe, trying to track down his sun summoner while you rot in this cage alongside the others.

After the handcuffs are checked you watch as four of the five soldiers walk to the cages of the two Alkemi, Ivanna and Ole, and pull them out, the fifth still sitting at the fire and watching the whole situation with mild interest.

You hear one of the guards make a suggestion on how to deal with them, and your stomach turns.

In your mind, you are 12 years old, hiding behind your mothers skirt. Her hand rests on your head, trying to soothe you as you watch with the other people your village how a woman gets dragged out of the cage they kept her in. You remember her face. She works as a seamstress. She gives you pretty ribbons to tie around your wrist or into your hair whenever your mother buys something from her.

The man – was he the mayor? The village head? You don't remember what he called himself – who pulled her out of the cage pushes her to the ground, right in front of a large rock, and motions for someone hiding in the crowd to come closer.

Another man steps forward, the blacksmith, in his hands the biggest hammer you have ever seen.

The woman starts screaming now, her voice breaking under the force of her violent sobs. Her body shakes horribly, and your own shaking hands dig deeper into the material of your mothers skirt.

"Please, please, I swear it. This is a misunderstanding. I did nothing wrong. I swear it. Please, just listen to me," the woman begs while the mayor grabs the thick rope attacked to her handcuffs and pulls her arms and hands to rest on the rock.

The noise the hammer made when it slammed down on her hands haunts you for centuries, just like her screams do.

Just like the screams of the Materialki probably will if you survive this when the guards push them to the ground. The only difference is that the soldiers have no large hammers to break their hands.

You can't move, can't speak, can't do anything, completely frozen in fear while the soldiers hold them down, each of them pressing an arm down onto the cold ground. The two have no chance to defend themselves.

The man at the fire finally stands up slowly, grabbing one of the rocks lining the fire to prevent forest fires, and walks over to the six people on the ground.

You watch him do it. You have to. You failed to protect your Grisha, and the least you can do is witness the horrors they have to go through because of your own mistakes.

Because you should've known. You should've known. Of course the royal family would turn on Grisha. Of course they would send the Darkling away before they raided the Little Palace. He is the last line of defence for the Grisha in this country.

You should've noticed the signs. You should've talked to the General about it, maybe even with Baghra. You should've started to prepare to evacuate the whole Palace, organized a place to hide with food and beds and water.

But you didn't. You didn't because you were too blinded by your own stupid quarrel with the Darkling. This is your fault. Every drop of blood that was shed that night, every bit of pain and suffering that your Grisha experienced, clings to you.

It's all your fault.

When the soldiers are sure that they broke every bone in Alkemis' hands, they put the cuffs back on and throw them back into their cages.

And then they walk back to the fire in the middle of the camp and begin to eat, ignoring the sobbing of the Grisha only a few metres away from them and the corpse still peacefully resting between the bushes and trees.

You wake up the next morning with aching muscles and the knowledge that you probably won't get out of this camp alive. Because as much as you would like to pretend otherwise, these people know you. If Vasily gives the command to have you killed, these men know that you're their target. And he would. You can't even blame him for it. You're the wife of the General, just as much of a symbol for the Second Army as the Darkling. Killing you would be a message to all of Ravka.

They don't treat you much differently than they treat the others, to your surprise. You get starved like the others, glared at like the others, and dehydrated like the others.

You could almost believe that they somehow don't know who you are if it wasn't for the insults.

Every Grisha gets insulted, some more creatively than the others. Especially the two Alkemi get made fun of for their broken, swollen, and discoloured hands by the soldiers, like they aren't the reason why they look like that. Other insults directed at other Grisha in the camp, on the other hand, are overused and boring, like when they asked Lena, an Inferni, where her spark is, why her fire has disappeared.

"I thought Infernis are always so hot-headed? Come on, give us a show!" One of the older men in the camp says to her on your second day awake, and it makes your skin crawl. You wish you could claw those mens eyes out, make them bleed.

But the insults they direct at you, those are personal. They prove that they know exactly who you are despite never saying your name once.

The Darklings slut. That's what you are to them.

His favourite toy. A bedwarmer. A plaything. A whore to entertain him. A distraction from the war. A thing he can let his frustrations out on.

That's who you are in their eyes. Nothing more. Certainly nothing that deserves respect or should be feared. The fact that you and the other Grisha can't use the small science makes them braver.

The worst insults are the ones they come up with after the third day in the cage, right after the soldiers get a quick visit from one of Vasilys messengers, because their words are suddenly no longer insults. They are observations and a horrible, new truth that convince you that their earlier insults are true, working hand in hand with the thoughts and fears you had before any of this even started.

"Don't look at me like that, whore. Everybody, even us fools in the First Army, know how enamoured your husband was with the sun summoner. How many times do you think he fucked her before she ran? Probably did it right behind your back in your shared bed, you stupid thing. I bet she was the last thing he thought of before the guards that accompanied him shot him in the head."

The soldiers celebrate the news of the Darklings death like they just won the wars with Fjerda and Shu Han and tore down the Fold with their bare hands, drinking alcohol and eating freshly hunted deer meat while you and the other Grisha grieve and starve. You don't allow yourself to cry like the others, but you can feel your soul rip itself apart.

You begin to lose yourself after that.

Your sanity runs through your hands like sand, your mind desperate to escape the smell of the Durasts rotting corpse that the soldiers never bothered to remove, the insults, the screams of the other Grisha when they get pulled out of their cages (one a day, always only one a day, like they're trying to drag it out), the desperate hunger that burns in your stomach, the thirst that tears your throat apart, the death of your husband: reality in all it's horrible shapes and colours.

First, you spend a few minutes caught up in a nice memory, like a short conversation in the gardens of the Little Palace, drinking tea and leaning on his shoulder while he tells you about his day. Then the daydreams get longer and take more control over you until you spend days staring at nothing, buried so deep in your own mind that you're no longer aware of what happens around you.

A small part of you hopes that they'll kill you while you're in that state, caught up in the past. Everything is better than reality, and with every second that passes when you're fully aware of your surroundings, that reality becomes more unbearable.

You love remembering the time before Alina the most. You know that her only sin is shining a light onto the lies, destruction, and rot surrounding you, but without her light, you were able to pretend.

You are good at pretending.

The light just makes it harder, and sometimes you slip up and accidentally sink into a more recent memory, your mind racing through different thoughts so fast that you're unable to stop it.

Like how the girl whose kefta you repaired that night, little Bibi, probably ended up dying without it after working so hard to prove to everyone that she earned it. And now her corpse lays somewhere in Ravka with no one to take care of it, to lay it to rest.

The kids are easily the worst thing to remember. Every time you do, it feels like the guilt eats your heart or whatever is left of it right out of your chest, ripping and tearing on the muscle like a wolf on a bone.

How many of them got out of the Palace in time and are now hiding somewhere, probably scared and alone with no one to help them and no idea how to get to other Grisha or back to their families? How many of them are stuck in cages just like you, starving and terrified of the First Army men who are only waiting to get the command to kill them? How many of them didn't even make it out of the Little Palace and died at the hand of the soldiers during the raid?

How many children were buried and burned that night?

Your husband isn't much better to remember either. The words of the First Army soldiers burn themselves into your mind like hot coals. You don't want to think about it. You've never wanted to think about something less in your entire life, but no matter what you do, the pain of losing someone you've known for almost your whole life feels like a knife stuck in your chest.

"... guards that accompanied him shot him in the head."

It's odd, really, how all consuming grief can be even if a part of you hates the person you lost. Almost surreal.

There have always been chapters of your life subtitled with "before the Darkling". There aren't supposed to be chapters subtitled "after the Darkling", not even a single one. It's wrong. It's entirely wrong. He's supposed to be a constant. Something that doesn't move, doesn't change, doesn't leave. He was supposed to be here until the end of everything.

He wasn't supposed to leave you behind. You can't do this without him. You can't lose him. This isn't right.

It's the last piece. The last drop required to convince you that giving up might not be the worst option. If they succeeded in killing the Darkling... what can truly be done anymore? What can you do? You can't free the Grisha in your camp, not with your hands cuffed so far apart from each other that your arms regularly start cramping, and a stomach so empty that it feels like your entire body is trying to collapse in on itself to fill the void. You can't convince the soldiers to free you. You can't save the children and rebuild Ravka into a safe place once more, not alone. You can't do anything on your own. You are nothing.

So why shouldn't you die? Why not join your husbands soul, wherever it may be now? What is left for you to do here? What can you do?

Death haunts your sense of smell and vision. It haunts your mind, and it haunts all of Ravka. Why not let it carry you off? Away from the pain, the suffering, the fear and grief and rot.

There is only more to come. More horrors that linger in the unpredictable future, and no one left to fix it. You certainly can't do it, Baghra - if she still lives, that is - doesn't care enough about others to even attempt to fix anything, and the sun summoner evidently can't do it either. All she can do is shine light on the evil lingering in the dark, but she's not strong or persuasive enough to improve and change the nightmares she exposes.

The Darkling could've done it. He would fight tooth and nail, drench his hands in blood and ash to free the others. He has fought his whole life, after all. He could've done it again.

But you can't. You can't take his position in this war, as much as you wish you could. You can't even get your hands out of your stupid cuffs, no matter how hard you try.

Baghra was right in the end, it seems. You really are too weak to stay at her and her sons side as their equal. You are dust, nothing more.

Now that you're here, stuck in a cage and unable to defend yourself in any way, you ask yourself once more how she and her son could've possibly survived this long. How did they not give up? What do they have that you lack?

"When the entire world hates you and wants you dead, the best thing you can do is live."

That's what she said back then, but you simply don't understand how she found the strength to keep going. You can't find it in you, no matter how much you look. Your whole life is gone. Your friends are probably all in cages or dead. Your husband is dead. Your home is gone. There is nothing left, no reason for you to continue.

Your husband would want you to keep going, a voice in the back of your mind answers, and you can feel the sharp stinging in your chest return at the thought.

You miss him. You miss him so much that it feels like you're being torn apart from the inside. And if you're really honest with yourself, you have to admit that you have been in this state for a while.

All of that anger and jealousy was just your bodies way to avoid facing the fact that you were lonely. No wonder you immediately fell back into routine like a desperate little cat when he finally gifted you some attention after Alina fled. Your entire being was begging to get him back.

And now you will never have him again because you were both too stubborn to simply talk with each other. He will never understand how much it hurt to see him obsess over someone else, and you will never know why you suddenly weren't enough for him anymore.

You will never hear his voice again, or knit him a new scarf for winter, or wash his hair for him after an exhausting day. You will never be comforted by him when you have a headache or watch the first snow of the year cover the grass outside of the Little Palace. You will never fall asleep next to him again, his arms wrapped around you and your face pressed against his chest as his heartbeat and calm breathing lull you to sleep.

He will never hug you again or surprise you with breakfast. He will never help you choose jewelry for an event again, give you his cloak when you're cold, kiss you, laugh at your horrible jokes, or moan your name into your ear, his voice raspy with love and desire while he tries to bring you to another orgasm before his own crashes down on him.

You will never do anything with him ever again.

Turning your head slightly, you stare at the soldiers sitting at the fire, eating some form of stew. You can't smell it. The stench of the decomposing body is too strong, and you wonder how the soldiers can stomach food in this environment.

You can barely breathe on some days without gagging every few seconds. It's so horrible that it drives tears into your eyes.

They talk and laugh about some servant girl, and you silently ask yourself what fate the servants of the Little Palace met. How many of them died that night? How many fled? Did any of them try to help the Grisha that might've fled? And saints, what happened to the Oprichniki?

Slowly closing your eyes again, you pray that the wind changes direction and starts blowing the smell away while you try to think of something that gives you strength.

The first thing that comes to mind is your amplifier.

You haven't thought about that day in a while, not since Alina came to the Palace and your heart and soul drowned themselves in jealousy and hate.

But it's not right to forget something so special. You should remember.

Who else in all of Ravka got proposed to, not with a ring but with a barn owl and a knife?

He has been gone for months, looking for something in West Ravka, choosing to trave through Fjerda and around the Fold to avoid going through it, and the constant worry that he would be discovered keeps you awake on some nights. He sends a letter once a month and promises you over and over that he would be back in the spring, but you still end up surprised when one of your friends drags you out of your bed in the middle of the night and ushers you towards the Generals quarters.

And when you open the doors you find him leaning against his desk, a knife next to him on the table and a barn owl sitting quietly in a cage, large eyes looking at you curiously, but you don't even see those things. Not at first, at least.

You just see him.

"You're back!"

Quickly jumping over to him, you throw your arms around him and press your face against him, a deep laugh bubbling in his chest as he moves to embrace you tightly.

"Careful, my love," he murmurs, his hands finding the back of your neck and pressing you closer to him.

You stay like that for a while, holding each other tightly while he whispers soft words into your ear.

"I'm so happy to see you. I missed you so much, little love. I hope you weren't too lonely without me," he coos, pressing a long kiss onto your head.

You're about to answer him when the bird finally makes himself known. Turning your head quickly you look at it, and the owl turns it's head to the side as if it's trying to do assess you carefully as well, it's dark eyes looking you over a few times. You feel a bit self-conscious in your night dress, but instead of shying away, you decide to let it look.

"Is that what you were looking for in West Ravka?" you ask, gazing back up at him.

"I did a lot of research over the past year, and I think this amplifier would be strong enough," he explains, his voice as soft as a feather.

"Strong enough?"

"To keep you with me. I didn't believe it at first either, but this little bird could give you forever. Time would no longer be able to take you from me. I could keep you for eternity."

Tears well up in your eyes, your hands moving to hold onto the front of his kefta as he reaches over to the knife and holds it out to you.

"You don't have to do it right now. You can get to know the owl and see if it feels right. Think about it for a while. It's a big commitment, after all." His empty hand moves up to cup your face, and the tenderness in his gaze makes your heart race. "If you chose the amplifier, I will stay with you. I will be at your side until the end of everything, I promise it. I will take care of you when you're hurt, hold you when you're sad, and laugh with you when you're happy. I will fight at your side, protect you with my life, and take care of you until I die."

Biting your lip weakly, you look up into his eyes, somehow darker than the night sky. "And if I don't choose to take the amplifier?"

"Then I'll still do all of those things. I will just have less time by your side, but I will cherish that time just as much, sweet girl."

You don't know when it happens because you start to loose track of time after the first week is over, but at some point in a random night one of the soldiers goes into the forest to get fresh water from a nearby river and doesn't return.

You're not conscious enough to notice it, and the soldiers are too caught up in their preparations for tonight's entertainment.

You don't even notice how they move through the camp, their eyes looking at each and every grisha they have, and judging who would be able to provide the most fun tonight. You just wish you were lying on the floor.

If you laid down, you could pretend that the heaviness on your chest is your husbands weight and not a heavy mountain of grief that tries to drag you down into the heart of the world.

He liked to do that. Lay on top of you to make sure that every single centimetre of you touched him in some way. You used to jokingly complain about it, but he never stopped. Every time he knew you needed comfort he would lay down on top of you, his heavy, strong body pressing you deep into the mattress while he talked, either asking questions about your day and whatever might be bothering you, or telling you about his, always carefully pressing small kisses onto your face and neck.

He must've known that his weight comforted you, made you feel safe. You've never wanted to be crushed into a mattress by him so badly in your whole life.

You don't hear it when they discuss if you're weak enough now to remove you from the cuffs. You don't even hear it when they open your cage, the old metal screeching loudly.

You don't realize that anything is wrong until one of the soldiers unlocks the cuffs and your body falls to the floor like a wet sack of flour. A loud groan leaves your mouth, your voice rough from lack of use.

The soldier grabs your ankles and drags you out of the cage, your upper body dragging over the floor. After being hung up for so long, you realise very quickly that you can't move your arms at all. The muscles start twitching as soon as you even attempt to bring them together, and a horrible, sharp tingling sensation makes itself noticeable. You bite your teeth together to stop yourself from screaming out.

A wave of panic crashes over you as soon as you fully understand what's going on, trying to kick the man dragging you closer to the fire, but none of your movements seem to really bother him.

As soon as you're close enough to the fire, someone flips you onto your stomach and buries their hand in your hair to pull your head up. Your back bends horribly, and you hiss out in pain as your eyes find those of the soldier who broke the Alkemis hands with a rock.

He doesn't say anything. He just looks at you, eyes taking in every flinch and twitch in your face.

You stay like this for a few seconds staring at each other, when he suddenly spits directly into your face, a wide grin splitting his face into two a few seconds later before he slaps you. Your head drops to the ground quickly.

"Let's get started. Markus can join us later when he's done," someone says. Three seconds later, before you have time to register what he means, you have a small knife in your back.

A blood curdling scream leaves your throat and tears well up in your eyes. You want to beg, to humiliate yourself even further and kiss their shoes in hopes of escaping this, but the last shred of pride left in you won't let you.

One of the soldiers steps onto one of your hands, twisting his shoe a bit in the process to make it hurt more. Someone else grabs your other arm and twists it behind your back until you scream out once more. This time, you scream your husbands name, unable to stop yourself in time. It's a broken, pathetic sound that echoes through the trees like a gunshot.

You know he won't come, but something about saying his name again feels almost cathartic, so you continue to scream it out with your full heart and soul. With every hit, every kick, and every stab wound, you scream the real name of the black heretic out into the endless night and beg death to bring you to him.

When the first gunshots get fired into the forest, you mistakenly assume that they're shooting at you and tightly close your eyes. Your heartbeat rushes loudly in your ears, and your mind replays the events of the first day when the Durast got shot. You can't even stand up and run. Your whole body is consumed by pain.

This is it, you think. Loud screams pierce through the air, gruelling, blood curling screams that scare you half to death.

Your mind races, trying to quickly find a last memory to remember before a bullet pierces your chest or head and kills you, something sweet and soft and perfect, like your wedding night, or your first kiss, or your-.

A loud scream rips itself out of your throat when a bullet hits you right into your leg. The man who shot it is dead seconds later, torn to shreds by darkness itself, but you don't see it, your eyes still rightly closed as you wait for the next bullet to hit you.

It never comes.

Instead someone yells your name, and you think it sounds familiar.

"Ivan!" the man screams, and a second later, someone carefully turns you onto your back and falls to their knees next to you, pulling your head up into their lap, their large hands cupping your face.

You don't want to die. You're not ready.

"My love, my love, it's me. Can you hear me?," he speaks. Fabric ruffles and something wide is dropped over your shaking, weak form, and your whole body feels warm for the first time in days. A familiar scent enters your lungs, somehow overpowering the stench of rotting corpse and fresh blood.

"Sasha?" Squinting your eyes, you look up, trying to focus on the blurry face hovering above yours. He's easy to recognize. The ink black lines over his face are unique to him, almost out of place in this world, just like him. You want to reach up and touch him, but you can't. Your muscles won't cooperate.

"I'm here, my little love. I'm right here. I found you. And I'm so proud of you. So, so proud of you. And I'm sorry," Aleksander answers. His eyes sparkle like stars, tears rolling down his face and dripping onto yours like raindrops. In the back of your mind, you realize that you've never seen him cry in front of people like this before. Only ever in private. Now his voice is almost breaking, his sobs so loud it drowns out the noise of your own hammering heartbeat. It must be a dream. He would never allow himself to show weakness like this.

Ivan appears next to him like a ghost, his hands covered in blood as he carefully lifts the thick black cloak Aleksander covered you with from your legs to look at the injuries there.

"Sasha," you rasp out again. You want him to hold you so badly, but you can barely speak. All you want is to be held by your husband.

"Right here. I'm so sorry, sweet girl. So sorry. I promised I would protect you, and I failed. I'm so sorry, I will never make that mistake again, I swear. I'll never take you for granted again. I'm so sorry for being late."

You want to respond, to calm him down, but he doesn't give you a chance to talk. He just continues with his panicked, slightly hysterical rambling, his whole body shaking under the force of his sobs.

"I'll take care of you. I'll make sure you're safe, and I will never leave your side again. No one will ever hurt you again."

His thumb strokes your cheek gently, and the love in his gaze almost feels like a punch in the gut. He looks absolutely in love and absolutely devastated as well. "I thought I lost you. I kept looking for you in every camp I found, but you were never there, and none of the soldiers would tell me where you are. I was so sure they killed you. I was so scared. I thought-"

Aleksanders voice shatters like glass, his body almost curling in on itself as he presses his forehead against yours. You recognize the breathing pattern he uses, an old trick he taught you a few years ago when you were still new to your position as the Darklings wife. He's trying to stop a panic attack from taking over.

"I'm so proud of you. You're so strong and brave, my darling girl. My lovely wife. I love you so much. You're so good, so good for me. I don't know what I would do without you. What I would do if they... I'm so sorry. I don't deserve you. I'm sorry."

He sounds broken, you notice. You've never heard him like this in your entire life. Tears flood your eyes, and you take a deep breath, more of his familiar scent entering your lungs. Rosemary and ash, with a hint of something sweet.

"I'm never going away again, I promise. I will never leave you again, sweet girl. Never again. You will never be able to get rid of me. I will bind myself to you, body and soul, until the end of everything, I swear it."

You're starting to get dizzy. Everything is so overwhelming.

"Am I dead?" You hear yourself asking, your vision dimming slowly, and you're sure you will be dragged back into unconsciousness by your body soon. Aleksander laughs, and it's oddly light and relieved, considering the context.

"No. No, you're alive. You survived. We both survived."

You smile.

Part 3: So I stayed in the darkness with you

Taglist: @savagejane1 @deadunicorn159

#aleksander morozova x reader #general kirigan x reader #darkling x reader

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juusbox · 4 months

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tfw you learn critical information about your party lead 3 acts in

#last shitpost of the year!!#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanart #bg3 astarion #bg3 shadowheart #astarion #shadowheart #dark urge #bg3 tav #our small army of stars

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the-slasher-files · 9 months

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WORKING HARD OR HARDLY WORKING

JOHN "SOAP" MACTAVISH

A smutty fic totally inspired by a friend who said he was hungry and wanted to leave work so he could eat pussy lol... and Mr Soap is the man with that energy. Fem reader with female anatomy... enjoy🤍🔪

MASTERLIST

A typical rainy UK day had passed you by. Johnny was home from deployment, but he wasn't completely yours, and he never would be. It was something you had accepted in the early stages of a playful, blossoming relationship. The army was his North Star and had melted into the very fibre of his being. Mundane but beautiful, Johnny had risen before the songbirds, brushed his teeth, and swapped the sleep shorts for boxers and his fatigues. Lazily stumbling through the dim light of your bedroom, placing a soft kiss on your temple and headed out to the base.

You would be lying if you had said that the work and life balance did not frustrate you, but he made up for every little moment when Johnny was home. Today was no different.

The clicking of typing and shuffling of papers filled your small office room within your townhouse. Voices over patchy computer microphones faded in and out as your team went over the last quarter of reports and statistics.

"May through June was our best..."

Your manager's voice dragged on as you tapped your pen against the pages of your lined notebook, pursing your lips and watching your bored coworkers upon your screen. That was until you nearly screamed, catching movement behind you on your camera before whipping around with your heart in your throat and wide eyes. It was just your fucking handsome boyfriend making you almost have a heart attack.

"Jesus Christ, John!" You whisper yelled at the scot before quickly muting your mic and shutting your camera.

Normally, the warm and playful energy would be beaming within your space, however, Johnny seemed oddly preoccupied. "Lass, I just..." A frustrated sigh passed his lips, "Had to come home to ya,"

"Is—are you okay?" There was an instant pull of worry on your features, about to stand from your office chair, "Johnny, what's wrong?"

Large hands, gently kept you seated and knelt on the fluffy rug beneath you. Furrowing your brow in concern, the meeting was completely fallen on deaf ears as you cupped his strong jaw, searching for an answer on Johnny's tanned face.

"I needed you" He gruffed out, lust coating each word.

Finally, he gazed up at you with his signature smile and calloused hands smoothing up your thighs.

"Fuckin—" You breathlessly laughed, the worry and concern melting away in his azure eyes.

"I'm hungry" Johnny groaned, thick fingers needing your hips slowly and bowing to kiss each knee.

"Sweetheart, I'm in a meeting right now, but there are leftovers in—"

"No, baby." There was a deepness in his chest when he replied, a tingle sparking within your spine at it. Rough yet skillful fingers almost pulled off the button of your trousers. "I'm hungry for you,"

With a call of his name on your lips, you protested but lifted your hips anyway, allowing your pants to be pulled off and tossed across the floor. Exposed only in your black lace underwear and button-down blouse, your face flushed and breath caught. Each kiss the scot had placed on your soft skin from ankle to thigh lit you on fire. Wetness growing fast as you squirmed beneath his wildfire touch.

"Y/n? ... Y/n?"

You froze at your manager's voice and Johnny just chuckled between your legs, "Continue your meetin' darling"

Cursing under your breath, you turned on your camera and microphone, "Sorry... um, my connection went out for a few m-minutes"

"That's alright, let's review the new topics f—"

"Such pretty little lace" John muttered against your hot core, lips sucking and kisses on the sticky fabric.

Trying to desperately compose yourself, face red and a hand gripping your pen with white knuckles, you flinched once his hot tongue laved across the clinging lace. Nudging your clit softly, those sea blue eyes met yours seeing the struggle, want, need and anger swirling through. He couldn't get enough. Spanking your cunt lightly with a rapid succession, Johnny motioned his head to your computer as your coworker as you question about something you were lost on.

Flying your eyes to the screen, there were puzzling looks, some just zoned out and others awaiting your response. "Sorry, my, um, dog is annoying me," you placed emphasis on the word dog, glancing down quickly to see John's squinted expression. This earned you a gentle warning bite to your clit, wanting to jump back but his hands held you still.

"To answer your question, I have been working closely on this with..." You fought on against the assault of your partner down below, voice professional in placid answers.

Only he could notice the dips and croons within your voice, as he basically spoke directly to your pussy in hushes mumbles, "such a sweet, wet cunt... a needy girl... look how wet she's getting as she tries to focus.."

It was manageable with a steel, stubborn focus you had fortunately been born with, but those walls were crumbling fast. There was a click of a knife, cool metal faster than you could realize and your panties were gone. Hot swipes of his wide tongue made you grip the brown fluffy Mohawk on top of your man's head, fingers tangling within it, reminding you to cut his hair after he ate you alive. Catching your bottom lip to hide a whine, it only made Johnny work faster like a man starved.

The hot magma licked inside the pit of your stomach, managing to reach foreward to mute your mic once the direction of the meeting was turned upon your coworkers, you couldn't help but give out the moan. Needy and wanton, leaning back in your chair, your hips rolled against against his face feeling rough stubble, hot saliva and your own juices now pooling underneath you.

"Fuck, hen... Christ you taste so good" Johnny hummed, the deep vibrations of his voice only made it harder to look normal on your Webcam. "Couldn't stop thinking about this pretty little cunt. Begging me to come home and fuck you..."

"John, J-John" Sweetly, you begged for it feeling so close yet so far in your pleasure.

Bringing the hand that held your pen up to your mouth, chewing on the plastic, hoping you didn't look too suspicious, but in the same breath your shits to give was dwindling. A deep rumble of a groan shot through him, lapping up every single drop of you as he plunged in a finger.

"Oh my god, baby, please" Johnny added a second finger quickly, making you gasp and twist. Your heel digging into the wide plans of muscle that was his back.

He pulled back with a string connecting you two, "Well would you look at this greedy little girl, huh?... Fucking needy angel,"

Flushed, hot cheeks were visible now to your team, along with the obvious wiggles, and you begged this fucking meeting to just be over. John's fingers curled inside you and his skilled lips sucked on your clit, feeling just how close you were it made him chuckle.

"Well, that concludes our meeting fo—"

Instantly, John slammed down your laptop, standing in front of you. Crashing his lips to yours, you grappled against him. Thick muscle flexing under your touch and his fingers pumped faster, noises of your slick, squelched sloppily as your end came strongly inside you. Moaning his name out as his tongue fucked your mouth, the effect of your orgasm splashed his large hand, bringing you slowly down from your high.

"Fucking missed you today" Johnny's accent was heavier with lust, drawing out his fingers to bring them to his own mouth and humming at the taste of you.

"I'm gonna need a good explanation in the next metting." You smiled, breathing heavy.

"It was just your dog" He beemed back, leaning down and laughing against your lips in bliss.

"I need to buy you a collar"

"I'm not opposed to that"

#ok... sorry but im not going back to edit this lol it took too long #love writing for this man tho #so much fun #john soap mactavish #call of duty #cod #modern warfare #mw2 #mw3 #x reader #x you #x s/o #video games #my writing

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whbfan · 30 days

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The Two Stars That Fell From The Sky | Part 6/6

A jubilant Michael poured down from a gap in the clouds, accompanied by enough angels to fill the sky.

6666 Knight angels, 4444 Magic angels, and 2222 Self-destructing angels crowded around Michael as they looked down.

Michael had come with his army.

—

Astaroth: Michael…! Wait, this is difficult…

Sitri: …Looks like only our great names will be left for generations to come… Not only Lucifer but Michael in one spot…

Lucifer looked up at Michael as if he were dreaming, whereas Satan’s group tensed up even more, their eyes wide.

Lucifer: Michael…

Michael flushed and trembled, as if Lucifer whispering his name in a low voice alone had brought him to climax.

Michael: Hyung! It’s me!!! Wait, you even have the magic pearl next to you. I knew it!

He called Gamigin the ‘magic pearl’ without even mentioning his presence, as though he still disdained life.

He was smiling at Lucifer, shining his golden, false eye.

He had the fake, golden eyepatch because Lucifer had plucked out his eyeball in the past, but the way he still smiled broadly at his brother seemed to show his almost fanatical affection.

Lucifer: Michael, wait—

Michael: Now, servants of the sky, cut the young dragon into a thousand pieces and scatter them upon the earth and bring me the magic pearl. Kill the impudent Satan and his hosts besides him.

Michael coldly glanced at the self-destructing angels.

Michael: Destroy them as though they had never existed in this world with all your lives.

Michael raised his hand as if to finish his order then regarded Lucifer with a kind smiling face again.

Michael: Lucifer hyung. You cannot fly to heaven, so take my hand. The rest of you, go down and bring him with all your heart. If he feels discomforted even in the slightest, I shall rip you into a hundred pieces.

When Michael lowered his hand, the angels folded their wings in unison and began to plummet toward the ground.

Sitri: …Your Majesty, what do we do?!

Satan: Tsk. We’ll do what we always do.

Satan clicked his tongue once and then stood in front of Jjok who was obscured by the grass, as if blocking him and Gamigin.

Facing off against Michael and his army of 13,332 angels was only one king, three dukes, and one little devil to defend.

Satan scanned his comrades who were gritting their teeth and preparing for battle.

Then, he opened his mouth wide to take a big breath and—

Satan: The victory from Hell begins here—!!!

Satan’s voice rang the large forest.

Birds flew up from the forest and the angel bodies on the ground and in the air trembled.

The back fighting to preserve even a single life. As Jjok looked up at, tears welling in his eyes, Satan’s men grinned as they heard their king’s cry.

BANG!!!

Amidst the self-destructing angels and flying spears of light, Satan’s party stood their ground and began to fight back. It was the second war in the forsaken ‘Paradise’.

Bang—! Bang—!

Each time gunshots erupted from the unseen Leraye, an angel head was blown off.

The never-missing gun, but there were too many angels.

Every time a self-destructing angel blew itself up, Satan was covered in blood protecting Sitri and Astaroth.

As if that didn’t matter, Satan did nothing to protect himself, decapitating angels and tearing their wings off as they rushed at his people.

In the midst of all the chaos, Michael flew down like a light feather falling from the sky and made his way to Lucifer, who neither aided the devils nor the angels.

Michael: My beloved brother. Let us leave this to our slaves and return.

Michael smiled happily and extended his hand toward Lucifer.

Just then, Michael saw something small and irritating flying towards him in his field of vision.

Jjok: Don’t take Mr. Lucifer…! My family…!!!

Jjok yelled, leaping towards Michael shedding tears and urine at the same time.

But Michael didn’t even frown as he raised his hand lightly as if to swat away a fly and pointed toward Jjok with his index finger.

A ray of light exploded from the tip, shone in a straight line for a moment… and Jjok’s body fell to the ground.

Jjok’s stomach had a hole too but for his body and was making burning noises,

And he could see Lucifer’s blank face beyond the hole in the falling Jjok.

The scene of the small devil charging towards Michael, getting a punctured and falling like a leaf played like a slow motion in Lucifer’s eyes.

Although Satan and his party who were in the middle of battle failed to notice Gamigin and Lucifer saw it all.

Gamigin uttered his friend’s name and stretched out with all his might, but he felt like his body was also moving much too slowly.

In the end, Jjok’s body plopped to the ground and rolled over the lawn a few times and came to a limp stop without reaching the tip of Gamigin’s hand.

Lucifer watched it all.

—

He had the feeling that this moment flowed much more slowly than the two years he spent with them.

When Jjok fell, acrid smoke billowing from his body and his unfocused eyes headed for Lucifer—

Michael: Even a lowly, trivial creature shows hostility for us… Hell is indeed a den of beggars that should disappear. Right, Hyung?

Michael jeered at Jjok’s death and suddenly hardened.

Lucifer’s footstep-less feet headed for Jjok.

The mere movement of the First Light was enough to cause those who had been frantically attacking each other to pause and stare at it.

Lucifer’s gliding movements towards Jjok were so benevolent and painful that no one could move, no one could breathe, for the only thing that existed was the fact that they were not to be disturbed, regardless of race or circumstance.

In the scene that was filled with bloody mist, time seemed to stand still.

In the silence, pure white hands pushed through the grass and preciously held up the small fallen body.

Jjok had been attacked so instantly that he didn’t even have a pained expression in his face.

In fact, his eyes were closed in the last brave expression he had as he charged at Michael.

Lucifer stroked Jjok’s body softly with his hand. His moving hand that glimmered with holy light made the scene feel sacred in itself.

All the creatures there didn’t even breathe, and while even the wind stayed silent as though trying not to disturb him, Lucifer hugged Jjok tightly in his chest.

Lucifer lowered his head and murmured as if to share his breath with that tiny creature.

No one heard what he said, but a few angels were sniveling already.

When Michael heard the sound, he came to and yelled loudly enough to ring the sky.

Michael: Listen, slaves of Heaven!!!!!!! Kill the filthy devils!!! Rip and stomp over that thing that soiled my brother’s hands!!!!!!!!!!

Michael shouted, shooting blinding beams from his eyes and fingertips and the angels’ eyes rolled back in their heads at the sound of Michael’s voice as they began to attack Satan’s group again.

Michael’s light pierced Sitri’s chest and he groaned as he collapsed. The spot where the light had passed was sizzling and dug out as if it had never been there.

Astaroth embraced Sitri and eight angels wielding swords of light rushed toward them at once.

Just then, Satan swung his huge Scythe of blood to cut through the eight angels and yelled at Lucifer.

Satan: Damn it, you shithead who shone first! If he really was someone you treasured, prove it!!!

Jjok’s final shout overlapped Satan’s red one.

Jjok: [Don’t take Mr. Lucifer…!! My family…!!!]

Lucifer didn’t let them call him under any titles but Jjok and Gamigin already considered him to be family.

Just then, Lucifer raised his head and handed Jjok in his hand to Gamigin.

Gamigin: Mr. Lucifer…

Michael: [The blasphemous, disgusting one who tempted my brother!!! The main instigator of all this!]

The moment Gamigin quietly took Jjok into his arms, the red light exploding from Michael’s eye flew faster and stronger than ever before.

The ominous glow which seemed to refuse to be contained gave both the devils and angels present an eerie sense of danger.

Sitri: Wait, no…!!

If Gamigin dies, God is the only one who can stop the crazy Lucifer…! Sitri was clever even in split seconds like this and sensed danger.

Just as he was about to throw himself to stop the light instead, Sitri’s jaw dropped as he stopped.

Lucifer’s hand was holding Michael’s ray of light. The light in Lucifer’s hand had stopped in front of Gamigin’s chest, unable to advance further.

Astaroth: He can catch… the light with his hand…?

Sitri: …The first to shine, the majesty of his face was such that even this was possible.

When Lucifer snapped the ray of light in his hand, there was a clang—! of shattering glass as it snapped and exploded.

And then, staring at Michael who had just tried to harm both Gamigin and Jjok, Lucifer stepped soundlessly toward him.

Even in that moment, Michael beamed, thinking that Lucifer was returning to him. But his smile soon slid off his face.

Lucifer’s white eyes turned black as he slowly took a step.

On his second step, his body descended about a foot and his feet touched the ground.

Boooom…!!!

The vibration shook all of Hell once and loudly, causing a few of the angels in the ground to stumble and fall.

Where Lucifer’s first foot touched the ground, it crushed, burned, melted and hardened into the shape of his foot, leaving a footprint.

And when he finally stood before Michael on his third step, black energy, not white, began to flow from his body.

The torn clothes wrapped around his body burnt from his toes and were soon replaced by a pitch black suit.

From beneath the feet of the finished black suit, a snake with pure white scales coiled up from his body, embedding itself as a pattern of his clothing.

And from Lucifer’s head, bright red horns that were the same color as Jjok’s began to grow.

Michael: L-Lucifer-hyung…?!!

Lucifer disregarded Michael as though he was going to answer him, but when he quietly opened his mouth his words resonated through the entire sky.

Lucifer: [Kneel, he who walks on the ground.]

At his words, the angels who were standing on the ground made a collective thump! thud! thud! and fell to their knees at the same time. Their knees were shattered and their bones were visible but they could not even move.

Suddenly, a crackling sound filled the sky. The angels had begun to gnash their teeth and tremble.

Lucifer: [Bow, he who flies through the sky.]

Then the angels flying in the sky were simultaneously thrown vertically toward the ground. The angels in the ground made the sound of something being smashed where they touched.

Leraye: [Damn… We nearly fought that guy…?!]

Aiming his gun from far away, Leraye had soon lowered his gun and was gritting his teeth with his arms around his shoulders,

Lucifer: [He who carries light, worship with the best of what you have.]

When Lucifer’s last words echoed through the sky, all the angels slit their own throats with their weapons.

They cut their throats to the point their necks dangled on their shoulders and the bloody cost of white light sprouting from their necks made the surroundings look hazy for a moment.

Only Michael stood unaffected and unharmed in the silent haze.

No, it wasn’t even that Michael was unaffected but that Lucifer didn’t use his powers on him alone.

Hundreds of Michael’s subordinates had dropped down dead in a second but he shouted at Lucifer as through it didn’t matter.

Michael: Lucifer-hyung…!! How could you abandon us to belong to Hell…!!!

The eye Lucifer dug out began to stream with tears. He was so flustered and angry and upset that he didn’t know what to do.

Lucifer murmured as mercifully as he did when he embraced Jjok but in a gloomy, sullen tone.

Lucifer: I am a fallen angel. I was born as the son of mornings yet set into afterlife.

Lucifer: I have failed Heaven with my arrogance and will repent in Hell.

His gloomy words were an answer for Michael, who was bawling like a child.

A mixture of flesh-cutting fury and child-carrying affection was radiating from Lucifer’s body.

Lucifer: I love you, my brother. Which is why I will give you one last chance.

Lucifer: Return.

When Lucifer lowered his head and looked at the ground, the ground in front of Michael split in two and black energy blossomed like smoke from the crack.

The thicker the black energy became, the hazier Lucifer seemed in Michael’s eye.

Just as Michael was about to shout Lucifer’s name again, Lucifer took the initiative and announced,

Lucifer: I proclaim this land to be [Paradise Lost]. Anyone who violates this area without my permission will not escape this land alive.

Lucifer: Even if that is God.

Michael’s eyes widened at the name he spat out, as well as those of the other devils there.

Michael flashed his golden eye from behind a veil of black energy, weeping and gnashing his teeth.

Michael: How…!!!!! How could that lowly, uncivilized creature!!!!! To us!!!!!!!!! To me!!!!!!!!!

Lucifer spoke in a sad voice at Jjok whom Gamigin was holding preciously in his arms.

His voice was tinged with a range of emotions he’d been desperately suppressing.

Jjok scowling with all his might flying towards a berry on a tall tree, and Jjok’s smiling face flitted across Lucifer’s vision.

Lucifer: This virtuous being is the one who, by his own strength, has gained what is highest with his own power.

Lucifer: Michael, it is an honor you and your other brothers who had everything from the start do not know. I hope you realize it one day.

It seemed as though Lucifer was trying to bring Michael around until the end, but when he raised his head… Michael had already flown high into the Heaven.

When the pressure finally eased a little, the sound of heavy footsteps drew closer to Lucifer. It was Satan.

Lucifer: …….

Satan: ……..

Lucifer and Satan quietly regarded each other,

Sitri and Astaroth were watching Satan with a look of ‘What do we do now?’ on their faces.

After saying nothing for some time, Satan stretched his fist in front of him and spoke.

Satan: I’ll tell the other five kings that a seventh King of Hell stands on this land.

Sitri: Your Majesty…! But—

Satan: Enough.

Sitri seemed to have more left to say, but Satan tapped him on the shoulder and quietened him.

Satan: He has lost his family twice already today.

Sitri: ……I understand.

At Satan’s words, Sitri stared at Jjok while Astaroth stared into the sky.

Then, Lucifer spoke to Gamigin behind him over his shoulder.

Lucifer: I only received things from you. I never did anything for you.

Lucifer: I failed to avenge Jjok nor conciliate Michael.

Lucifer: I… can no longer live my life with a straight face…

Lucifer hung his head, hugging himself with his arms as though hiding the embarrassing parts of his body.

Lucifer: However… I will protect all the innocent devils here until the war of Hell comes to an end.

Lucifer: I am sorry…

An improbable word, an apology from the most noble and perfect of men, but Gamigin spoke as brightly and energetically as ever.

Gamigin: I will always be by your side.

His bright, powerful voice which were at odds with the brooding Lucifer-ian atmosphere, seemed to harmonize them.

His bells sounded a little wet like his voice but Gamigin tried his best to smile again.

……

—

Lucifer: …I am a little tired after talking so much.

The large boulder, no, Lucifer sitting on the rubble of fallen building muttered quietly.

His voice was barely audibly if you didn’t concentrate, which was as it should be because all around him now were hundreds of angels flying through the sky, attacking just as they had when Michael had come down all those years ago.

The angels couldn’t threaten him more because of their awe and fear of the being called Lucifer, and only threw spears and swords of light from afar but it still cut and pierced when they touched him.

Lucifer was in the middle of a battlefield that was just off of Paradise Lost but Lucifer suddenly began to talk for quite a long time about the past as though he couldn’t see nor hear it.

There were devils shining their eyes as they listened to him like young children, breathing quietly to hear him.

Marbas, Morax, and Buer had their limbs cut and pierced because of the spears of light that rained down from above, but they only stared at Lucifer as though they couldn’t waste time suffering.

Probably because of Lucifer’s mouth had opened for the first time in a long time.

Spears had pierced Morax’s arm several times and it dangled from his shoulders, and there seemed to be no more space for any more swords to drive into Buer’s back.

But they didn’t want to miss the voice of their noble king, which they could only hear at such length on very rare occasions.

His voice which was as soft as milk and honey was often languid and mostly melancholy but always tinged with affection for the beings who listened.

No matter what he was talking about he had a voice you could listen to for a thousand years and never get bored.

Morax: …So what happened? Was Jjok buried in that land?

Buer: I do envy that a little… To be the first subject to be buried in Paradise Lost…

Gamigin: I know, right!!! What do you think happened!!!!

When Gamigin jingled his staff with an excited look on his face as though this was the climax of the story, the devils around him rebuked him.

Marbas: It’s loud…

Morax: You’re loud.

Buer: How loud.

Just as Buer stroked his chin with a. Bloody hand and was the last to complain, a small shout came from above Lucifer’s shoulders.

Jjok: What the—!! What the what the what the—!! I didn’t die!! Mr. Lucifer, why would you finish without saying the last important part?!

Jjok: What the what the—!! You guys also know I’m alive!!

When Jjok spoke, Marbas’ body collapsed with a thud.

Beneath his smiling face, a spear of light pierced his throat.

But no one looked back at him. Three blades suddenly drove into Buer’s left chest, who then vomited blood and turned limp with a smile of his face.

Even Morax with his dangling arm fell to this knees and collapsed sideways with a smile. That was how everyone died.

Lucifer slowly stood up from his seat.

Lucifer: Looks like I have been talking for too long. Let us all return.

Gamigin: Yep!!

Gamigin answered brightly from right behind Lucifer.

And he shook his staff with a jingle—! for the last time, raising it high into the sky and driving it into the ground.

Flash—!!

A light as bright as the sun flowed from the ground and the staff embedded itself into and the light flowed into Marbas, Morax and Buer’s bodies.

They calmly sat up as though waking up from a nap.

The cuts had glued together, the punctures plugged. No, they looked even more refreshed than they had before collapsing.

The startled angels opened their mouths wide in surprise and shot spears and arrows again too late.

The devils there began to radiate green energy from their bodies as though they thought the story was over.

Pleasant sounds like the sound of a star shining, wind smiling, emotions being moved began to sound from them.

The angels continued to throw spears and swords of light but were healed faster than wounding the devils.

Marbas was healing Morax, Morax was healing Buer, and Gamigin was healing Buer. They were healing each other at the same time and no wound could even mark them.

Having come back to life, Marbas nodded in a leisurely way and spoke to Gamigin amidst the downpour of spears and swords.

Marbas: So, Gamigin and Jjok who experienced such a thing together are his Majesty, Lucifer’s family.

Gamigin: Yes. Like you hyungs!

As someone who knew their untold stories, Gamigin smiled brightly.

The angels ground their teeth at Lucifer’s party who brushed themselves off and walked away.

Just then, six angels who looked the bravest and had the fiercest eyes flew low and rushed for Lucifer’s party.

Brutal Angel: I shan’t ever let you go, traitor Lucifer…!

But before they could even reach the ground, they slit their own throats in unison and plummeted to the ground as though they had stepped over an invisible line.

Listening to the rustling and crinkling of wings, Jjok who had now taken up residence above Gamigin’s head screeched at the angels, arms and legs spread wide.

Jjok: Beyond this line is the domain of Lucifer! The Seventh King of Hell! Whoever sets foot in Paradise Lost without his permission will not make it out alive!

Jjok: Even if that is God!!!!!!!

Marbas: It’s loud…

Morax: You’re loud.

Buer: How loud.

The great little devil Jjok, who was almost a red lump, or perhaps a slightly white lump, was the first of the Red Lumo family to belong to another continent,

He ignored the devils and continued to bellow at the top of his voice and the angels had no choice but to grind their teeth and do nothing to them.

It was their own and, the land the angels had lost, but the devils had reclaimed. [Paradise Lost].

—

And Gamigin…

Gamigin: [Even after a long time, I couldn’t stop the blood flowing from where Mr. Lucifer’s wings used to be.]

Gamigin: [I only wish I could heal him… but even if I gather the power in my magic pearl, I couldn’t do it.]

Gamigin: [Probably because Mr. Lucifer didn’t want it.]

Gamigin: [That was when I realized that even the magic pearl doesn’t grant all the wishes in the world.]

Gamigin: [Perhaps the blood on his back would stop bleeding when he returns to Heaven?]

Gamigin: But I… don’t want him to go back to Heaven.

Gamigin rested his chin on his hand and stared out the window at Lucifer’s footprints on the ground in the clearing outside the house.

Gamigin: I wish Mr. Lucifer would stay him. Maybe the war wouldn’t be so bad after all…

#the two stars that fell from the sky #what in hell is bad #what in ‘hell’ is bad #whb #whb spoilers #whb event #whb gamigin #whb lucifer #whb jjok #whb satan #whb michael

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milla984 · 6 months

Text

And in the Beginning...

Summary: after spending a day at D.C.’s most renowned multifandom convention Spencer and Garcia stop for a coffee. Spoiler alert - our fave Resident Genius dumps their order on Reader.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x gn!reader (Reader is a sci-fi buff)

Category: fluff

TW/CW: swearing, mentions of food, some Star Wars-related talk

Word Count: 2k

Once again, a ginormous THANK YOU to @drgenius-reid for taking the time to beta-read the first draft (aka witnessing the horror)!

The following work is my entry for @imagining-in-the-margins' CM Meet Cute (or not) Challenge and is also part of the series Spencer Reid, my beloved

“Highlight of the day?! Jamie Hewlett signing my copy of The Cream of Tank Girl! In you face, Mr. 'Superman Can Fly'...!”

The woman carrying a Chinese paper umbrella rummaged through her purse to retrieve a wallet and pay at the coffee truck parked outside the convention center; stylish two-tone glasses matched the army green jumpsuit with a teddy bear patch on her right leg and the blue mandarin collar button-down shirt she was wearing, and her blond hair was tied up in a pair of small side buns.

The tall man beside her chuckled as he picked up two cups. “I don’t know if I should be more impressed or worried.”

“Why?! We made a deal and it’s perfect: he can have Sci-Fi-Gate, I’m keeping WashCon.”

“Sci-Fi-Gate has amazing Star Trek guests, though…”

A long and colorful scarf was wrapped around his neck and a deep red cravat necktie peeked out of the hem of a plaid design vest, combined with a single-breasted brown coat and a pair of grey pants.

“I can't believe you would really choose the Captains of the Enterprise panel over my emotional stability,” she frowned, paying zero attention to the cosplayer in a trenchcoat with a pair of black wings attached to their back she was about to brush past.

When the feathers smacked her cheek she pulled back, the tips of her umbrella almost poking the tall guy dressed as Doctor Who in the eye; the sudden movement startled the cosplayer and a rapid swing of their dark wings created a commotion in the crowd of people waiting for their turn to order. In the confusion that followed, a random shoulder bumped into yours and pushed you out of the line and off the sidewalk, right in front of the Fourth Doctor - who was struggling to maintain his Fedora in place and watch where he was going at the same time.

Needless to say, he ended up failing at both.

“Oh my God, are you okay?” the blond woman asked.

“I’m so sorry, SO SO SORRY—” the tall guy apologized simultaneously and she cut him off, rushing to your side.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

The frantic exchange prompted your brain to whoosh into light speed mode to elaborate and discharge the ‘Ah, shit!!’ and ‘wait… is this iced macchiato?!?!’ inputs in favor of a more suitable reaction at the sight of the considerable amount of caffeine soaking your hoodie.

“... I think I’m okay.”

“First-aid manuals suggest removing all clothes or jewelry near the affected area within moments after the spillage of a hot liquid,” the tall guy said, and the woman gasped in shock.

“Please tell me you didn’t get burned! Once I got this non-fat steamed white chocolate vani—”

“I’m fine,” you growled a bit.

Someone behind you was snickering and, despite the relief of not having sustained serious injuries, the attention was already making you feel uncomfortable.

“Scalds are caused by sources of humid heat and certain types of fibers retain the water, which can be responsible for additional damage to the skin,” the tall guy explained again, speaking faster than anyone you had ever heard.

You tucked your shirt in your jeans and raised an eyebrow in his direction. “Let me guess: you’re a doctor.”

“Well… uhm, yes, this is my…” he faltered, unable to tell if you were referencing his costume as a pun or not. “I am, actually.”

“Not that kind of doctor,” the woman added.

She sighed as soon as she realized you were standing there speechless, drenched in coffee, your gaze wandering back and forth between them. “I’m so sorry…”

“They should be more careful with the lids. I think I got lucky,” you muttered through gritted teeth as you pulled the zip down.

Thanks to the decision to splurge some money on yourself, earlier on, you had something to replace your soiled hoodie with. The Fourth Doctor looked away and focused his attention on the cups he was still holding in his hands; before he threw them in the nearest trashcan he inspected their content, confirming he’d fortunately spilled on you a combination of 98% half-caf iced caramel macchiato and just 2% regular hot americano.

The woman was still clasping the handle of her umbrella. “Listen, we were about to check out this itsy-bitsy lovely Indian place ‘round the corner, maybe you should come with us. You know… to try and get cleaned up a little.”

You dug into the shopping bag at your feet, taking a sealed package out to rip the plastic film wrapped around a brown sweatshirt with a stylized front print of the panoramic view of the desert, Jabba the Hutt’s palace and twin suns on Tatooine, and put it on.

“No offense, but my parents taught me to never follow strangers.”

“None taken,” the tall guy replied, “they were absolutely right. According to the National Missing and Unidentified Persons System, about 90,000 individuals are reported missing in the U.S. every year and the National Institute of Justice estimates that approximately 4,400 unidentified bodies are recovered annually.”

For the second time in less than five minutes, you considered the possibility he could truly be from Gallifrey. You also wondered if he was aware of his perfect facial structure: everything about his demeanor indicated he wasn’t too skilled in the art of charming people using his sculpted jawline and lean figure.

“... do you always quote statistics about murders and kidnappings like it’s a casual topic of conversation?”

His eyes got even bigger, showing a hint of gold on the inside. “It was merely an observation—”

“Yeah, he… does that,” the woman came to his rescue, “and even if it sounds bad, trust me it’s- it's part of his job. Our job. Except, I don’t deal with the scary, disturbing, yucky stuff.”

Your question wasn’t meant to come out in such a sarcastic tone. “You’re cops?!”

“FBI. Tech Analyst and Behavioral Analysis Unit,” she explained, and the tall guy waved a silent greeting at you.

Even though the chance of running into the Bureau personnel stationed in D.C., at some point, wasn’t unreasonable, ‘two FBI agents walk into a multifandom convention dressed as characters from sci-fi TV shows’ could have easily been the beginning of a bad joke.

Plus, it was hard to picture the Fourth Doctor as a G-Man. “What’s your Ph.D. in, exactly?”

“I have a Ph.D. in Mathematics. And Chemistry, and Engineering. And I hold BAs in Psychology, Sociology and Philosophy.”

“Google him. Spencer Reid, B-A-U,” the woman suggested after a short pause, in response to your skeptical expression.

Judging by her tone she was daring you to, as if the situation wasn’t already giving off major The Twilight Zone vibes… and yet, instead of bidding them an unenthusiastic farewell, you pulled out your phone to type his name.

A plethora of results popped on the screen seconds later, so you first clicked on the link titled BAU’s newest member.

“With three doctorate degrees from Caltech already, and a staggering IQ of 187 as well as an eidetic memory there is no psychological exam or test the FBI could put in front of him he could not ace,” the piece said about newly-recruited Spencer Reid.

“When I ask why he chose Caltech over MIT and Stanford, he quickly runs down a list of Professors he had a desire to study with. He makes no mention of the weather or girls,” an older article reported.

You skipped through at least a dozen mentions of SSA Reid’s outstanding performances in the field, then a PDF document, property of the California Institute of Technology, caught your interest and you read the title aloud.

“Identifying non-obvious relationship—”

“Non-obvious relationship factors using cluster-weighted modeling and geographic regression,” he recited by heart, “that's my Engineering dissertation.”

He was too prepared on the subject and too adorably peculiar to be an impostor posing as a genius FBI agent for kicks, during the weekend; you picked his Fedora off the ground as a peace offering.

“Seems like you’re a wunderkind, Doctor Reid.”

Spencer lowered his chin so he could mask the rush of blood to his cheeks and his friend giggled, gently linking arms with you.

“Now, there’s something relevant we need to discuss, pronto… how do you feel about veg biryani?”

An hour and a half proved to be all the time you needed to form a solid conviction that Spencer Reid going on a spiel about the original blueprints of a fictional space station was the best thing since sliced bread.

“It’s part of the iconic imagery Lucas wanted to establish, there’s no health and safety. And don’t forget it was originally designed by the Geonosians.”

You snorted at the mention of the classic ‘designed by a flying alien species’ argument. “That’s not an excuse! Even if the Geonosians designed it, they knew it was meant to be used by humanoid creatures.”

After leaving the restaurant, where you had insisted on paying for your share - much to Garcia's dismay, you’d walked back to the convention center’s parking lot and now you were waiting by your car for Penelope to get hers. As you had recently discovered, she loved mugs, old Italian movies and playing the ukulele; Spencer wasn’t as outgoing and chatty, especially about his private life, but Star Wars was for sure one of his numerous areas of expertise.

“TIE fighters don’t have a proper defense system and the original prototype even lacked structural integrity to support atmospheric flight. The Empire doesn't care about casualties, it’s safe to think they never bothered to install a guardrail or other appropriate safety measures because to them the Death Star technicians are expendable.”

“Okay… solid theory,” you admitted, making him smile as he wiped his forehead to get rid of a lock of curly hair.

“Thank you. It’s nice to have a discussion with someone who knows about the Geonosians. Or the Death Star. It only happened twice but I’ve had people asking me what that was.”

When the convertible Cadillac with a plastic Hawaiian lei tied to the rear-view mirror stopped inches from you, Garcia - behind the steering wheel - proudly gestured at the extension of her eccentric personality.

“Meet Esther. Isn’t she fab?”

You wolf whistled your appreciation, gliding your fingertips over the leather upholstery and orange body paint. “Quick question: how much do you think I’d get if I sued two FBI agents for… damages, let’s say?!”

Penelope produced a fluffy pen out of the glove compartment and scribbled something on the back of a PetMAC receipt she handed it to you.

“Sweet pea, if I were you I'd settle for a lifetime of free IT support.”

“I’ll take it,” you said, “I’m kind of tired of being bullied by my own laptop.”

She stared at you for a moment before her face lit up, like a girl on a trip to a four-story candy shop. “... have you ever been to Baltimore ComicCon?!” she asked out of the blue while Spencer plopped himself down on the passenger seat.

You shook your head. “Do you guys—”

“We should totally go together!!” Garcia proposed. Or rather, declared.

In all honesty, the prospect of attending another convention on your own was depressing and you’d given up on the one in Maryland for that specific reason; you turned to Spencer for his approval, too, and he nodded, maybe because he knew there was no way of stopping Garcia if she had her mind set on a specific goal.

“Baltimore it is, then…?!”

Penelope shot you a smug grin. “Keep in touch. We still owe you a nice dinner and ComicCon’s not up until September, I’d hate to run a background check on your license plate to find you.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the idea and saluted them goodbye as they drove off, Esther’s taillights shining bright red.

What a weird Saturday. Meeting a real life genius and the quirkiest FBI agent ever came with a price, and one of your favorite hoodies was most likely beyond salvaging. You needed to know if Spencer Reid was well worth it.

Garcia’s words then echoed in your ears, so you sat in your car and unlocked your phone, scrolling through the most recent Google searches: you had a lot of reading to do.

@matthew-gray-gubler-lover, @thisiscalmanditsdoctorreid, @pretty-boys-book-club, @spookydrreid, @f-me-reid, @foxy-eva, @scorpiofangirl1109, @a-potato-wearing-plaid, @cynbx, @reidsbookclub, @nagemasstuff, @hotchsdharma, @reidmainbitch, @lizzylynch1, @will-grahams-eyes, @padawancat97

»»»— read pinned post for taglist info —«««

#spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fic #dr spencer reid x reader #my gifs #milla writes stuff #mentioningmargins #there are references from a couple of other tv shows hidden in this work #feel free to let me know if you can find them #quot “i understood that reference”

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nerdieforpedro · 2 months

Text

She made me Feel

Din Djarin x plus size female reader

My blog is 18+ MDNI

Word Count: about 2.8k (double the length of the original - because Din thinks a lot)

Summary: The Mandalorian constantly weighs different scenarios concerning the safety of his child and himself. Din Djarin's mind is now riddled with possible ways to interact with you. Can he figure it out?

Warnings: Din is a pile of nervous beskar, Din is also clueless, Peli is a menace to Din, awkward conversations, Din being so soft, mention of blood and injuries, first aid, HANDS, basically fluff (the fluff is back a little?)

Notes: The follow up to He Told Me His Name. Din might be a tad anxious. It's a companion piece to my other fic. I might do one where it shows where they are now. I thought Din's perspective would be good to see. The dividers are by the talented @saradika-graphics

Main Masterlist / Din Djarin - The Mandalorian Masterlist/ Our Journey Across the Star Ocean Series

I wasn’t aware Peli had anyone human working with her, only those damn droids. I first saw her repairing one of them, her hands working skillfully with the wires. I wondered why she was here. Her hands could be doing much more delicate work. She finished with the droid and sent it on it’s way. I asked Peli about her and apparently she normally works with droids and I did state that I only wanted Peli and her approved droids on my ship when I first started getting repairs here.

I couldn’t say then that I didn’t mind if she joined Peli in her work on the Razor Crest. I already can’t deal with Peli’s teasing today as she asks about my interest in her assistant. Grogu has already tested my patience with his tantrums about frogs. I told the annoying woman that my curiosity extended to her because she seems much more sane than you and your army of half-functioning droids. Peli did not take that well. She hit me with one of her wrenches. That will bruise.

When the ship needs maintenance, I keep an eye out for her now and she is always repairing some droid or another. She manages her tools as well, cleaning them, polishing them. Despite the grease and grime, her hands look soft and graceful like the rest of her. I wonder if I should offer to assist her with one of the droid’s repairs?

Dank ferrnik, Peli noticed me watching her arrange her tools. She’s begun with the comments again… I endured only because Peli agreed to have her work on the Razor Crest now. I don’t give two wookies what Peli says, I have never slobbered like a blerg over anyone. I just…respect that she’s an expert. Similar to me with weapons of my clan.

This time I managed to say hello. Maker it’s nerve wracking. She may be equally as nervous. She only said hello back and looked at her tools. This is a complete mess. I hunt bounties for a living, talking to a woman is not impossible. Just difficult, small talk is painful. Peli has a smug look on her face. If she wasn’t so well acquainted with my ship and cheap I’d…well I’d threaten to go else where. She is here. I would rather not.

Now we exchange greetings with some pleasantries. About business and droids…the only damn thing those buckets have ever been good for. I was able to say a few sentences to her. She replied with her own. I am unexpectedly happy about this. I want to talk to her longer but not a clue what to talk about.

Maker, why am I even trying so hard? My only focus should be on my Creed and my foundling. My eyes are always drawn to her, watching her. I thought at first it was similar to one of my bounties. Watching and waiting. I know patience and timing with my jobs as they’re for credits and when I can find it, beskar for our covert but I do not want to wait for her to come over to the Razor Crest. I want to go to her but I realize that a figure clad in armor and weapons head to toe is rather…intimidating. I think I’ll carry Grogu when I go over, that should make me seem less fearsome.

Despite napping, my foundling has proven most useful. We spoke at length about him. For almost an hour, I believe. I find myself less nervous and I believe she is as well. Peli spoke to me outside of the Razor Crest away from my dear mechanic. She’s proposing that I bring her with me. One of the few good ideas Peli has had since I started having this woman repair my ship.

I waited until my next trip to ask her. I needed to find the right words. I thought I had them but the eluded me after I greeted her and asked how she was. She greeted me with the same smile that she’s given me that last few times I have been here. Maker I hope she’s open to the idea. Seeing her smile daily would be…should…should I be courting her? I feel this strongly about her. I may have missed a few steps in this process. No matter.

“Can I ask you something?” Din is still nervous, but he is slightly less so in the familiar space of the Razor Crest. It’s cold metal echoes his own beskar. The only source of warmth, the woman who he has an important question for. A want, he told himself but was quickly becoming a need. She nods, setting her tools down and wiping her hands on the worn apron she often wears to protect her clothes. He had her full attention. As much as he was worried to have it, he relished in it for a moment before cleaning his throat.

“Sure Mando. What is it?” Thankfully she couldn’t see his face grimace at the nickname. That was for people he wanted to keep at arm’s length, not those he wanted close. It wasn’t something he’d put much thought into as he’d been a Mandalorian since they’d taken him in and been taught their ways. He was certain that only his brothers and sisters in the coven would know his name. His son Grogu had opened his heart to truly caring for another person again. Din had wondered if he was longing for the same type of relationship with her as he saw in his coven between riduurs. Maybe down the line. I don’t even know if I want that now. I just know I’d like her to be with us on our journey wherever we go.

“Would you like to come with Grogu and I? It would be better if we had a capable mechanic with us.” Din stood quietly and waited for her answer. He held his breath and exhaled when she said she would think on it.

“Are you leaving again soon?” She asked him, the delicate hands he watched so often kept folding a corner of her work apron back and forth. He understands the feeling, it’s the same as when he inventories and cleans his weapons and especially his beskar. It’s soothing, he would have found this to be pleasant if it wasn’t his question that had made her need it. A similarity between them, other than a shared soft spot for a certain green child and a large pre-empire craft that they chatted about. “I want to give you an answer but I also want to think about it properly.”

Din nodded and let her be. “I don’t leave again for a few days. Take the time you need.” She didn’t outright say no so there was a chance. As it turned out, she later said yes the day after next. One step forward, she was joining him and Grogu on the Razor Crest. He remained quiet most of the time with her, just happy that she was here with them traveling.

The small incidental brushes began when they would work in tandem to make repairs to the Crest. The shoulder bumps, her hip bumping his thigh when she would turn slightly to reach for a tool or to maneuver to manipulate wires. He noticed she would move away from him and he was worried that he was crowding her but she mentioned something much worse, “Sorry Mando, I take up a bit of space. I think-“

“No mesh’la you don’t. We just need to figure out a better method to complete the repairs. Please, you are…” I paused. What did I want to tell her? How can I say it? Maker I don’t even know… “You are fine as is. You take up as much space as you like.” Dank Ferrnik….what does that even mean? She turned away from me and I felt like an idiot. This would be the time I don’t bump my helmet on something white fixing this ship.

“Thanks Mando. No one’s ever quite put it like that.” He heard you laugh and his fears were quelled. Thank the Maker you were so understanding. But he worried about what you may have said about yourself. That was when he decided. I don’t think I should hope that we touch anymore. I think I can make it more purposeful. So she’ll know that I find her beautiful and that’s part of courting right? Maybe I should have asked different questions of The Armorer and Paz when I was back on Navarro. No only The Armorer, Paz pisses me off too much and I will not owe him any more than I already do.

At the market, I made sure to touch between her shoulder blades on her back to guide her as Grogu’s pram floated next to us. She didn’t flinch, and I didn’t want to touch lower back because that would be inappropriate. I do wonder…sometimes. But only wonder.

I began picking up bounties and would need her and Grogu to stay on the Crest to be safe. That doesn’t seem fair, she said she wanted to see the galaxy. I can teach her some self-defense and how to shoot a blaster so I’ll feel slightly better about leaving them alone. Her hands are small in mine, still so gentile, except with a wrench. She was nervous but got the hang of it fairly quickly. We keep practicing until her aim improves. I encourage her every time we make a stop to shoot and she does. I’m trying to make my voice sound softer I suppose, I’m not really sure except outside of Grogu how that sounds. She responds to it and smiles more often, we’ve grown closer and I’m thankful that she’s making progress but it’s slowed some so I can continue to mentor her.

Maker I have ulterior motives when I do. I can’t think of another good reason to touch her.

I couldn’t help it. She was holding Grogu and trying to explain the different bolts to him. I bet he was trying to play with her tools while she was sorting them. I placed my hand on her shoulder. It felt like it should be there. She looked up at me and I nodded. I hope she took that to mean that I’m fine with her holding my son. I walked away because I didn't know what to say. She didn’t say anything either.

I’m lying to myself. I’ve long accepted her holding my son. The Crest wouldn’t be the same without her here. Waiting for me, playing with Grogu, walking through the market, sitting in a comfortable silence in the cockpit. I even look forward to checking my weapon inventory when she’s checking her tools and at the same time. I didn’t think occupying the same space as someone would be so rewarding, well in a different way than my son. Should I tell her any of this?

No. It’s too much and I’m not even sure what this is.

Now wherever we go, I ensure I’m guiding her by her arm, back, or hand. I know I wouldn’t really lose her, she’s clever and would find Grogu and I quickly. The fear is there, I don’t want her to leave, she might want to one day. This life isn’t made for the masses. She’s voiced no complaints. What would I even say if I had to convince her to stay?

The hunt didn’t take long and this bail jumper is annoying. The only reason I haven’t said I’m putting him on carbonite is that he finally shut up.

We’re back to the Crest and there’s blood. Too much blood. I put him on carbonite as I spot her and Grogu. He’s a few feet from her, appears to be unarmed. I don’t detect any other life forms on the Crest. The child's scream feels like it will pierce my helmet, I can’t blame him. I too want to scream at the sight. She’s face down and her back is entirely wet with crimson. I ripped her shirt and bra to visualize the wound. It’s large, nearly the entire width of her back, part of her shirt has stuck to the wound. I’ll need to rip more to see, but then her back will be fully exposed and she’s vulnerable as is.

“I apologize for this. I’ll need to cut off the rest of the back of your shirt to clean and apply the spray and…” This is so much different when it’s someone you care for. “It may be easier for me to do if I remove my gloves. They’ve become too slick with your blood. Is that alright?” It feels silly but I need to ask, I need to know it’s okay. I need to let her choose, I already ripped her shirt without asking.

“It’s fine Mando. Do what you need to do. Grogu’s okay right? I didn’t get any blood on him, I think.” She’s worried about my son at this point?! Maker I…I need to focus for her sake. It’s been months since I took off my gloves near another person. I dabbed her back with gauze to remove the residue from what looks to be some local fauna that are quite violent. Their secretions inhibit clotting to weaken their targets and so they can gorge themselves on their blood. Next, I applied pressure to try and get the bleeding to stop enough so the bacta spray will work and won’t wash away in her blood. It appears after a few minutes the bacta spray is holding and the bleeding is slowing further so I apply pressure dressings and make them tight. It may make her a bit sore but the bleeding should stop with this.

I need to keep watch over her. I placed her in her bunk and wrapped her up tightly. I need her to rest and recover. I want her to wake up and we have more moments, more time. I don’t want her to leave but after this…I can’t blame her.

She woke up! “You’re awake? Has the pain subsided? I should check-” She shushed me before she sat up. Pulling the blanket back around her should keep her cool. Before I fell asleep beside her, I charted our course back to turn this bail jumper in. I apologized to her. She recalled her training and how she kept Grogu safe. Part of me is proud but she still was hurt badly, I could have lost her. “Mesh'la were not safe. You were hurt badly. Do…I would not blame you if you wanted to leave.” Words I won’t want to say but do anyway. I want to beg her to stay but it wouldn’t be right. She’s not a warrior like I am. She wanted to see more than the Peli’s garage. I can’t give her that without danger.

She holds my bare hand and tells me, “I refuse to go. I will not. You’ll have to toss me off. I’ve seen so many things and places and I want to see that much more. You’re stuck with me Mando.” This isn’t the threat she may think it is. “I’m not going to but. I just don’t want to go.” First my son and now… a partner. Someone who wants to be by my side.

“I am called Din. Please do so while it’s just the three of us.” My thumb stroked her palm and she chuckled. I wonder if I can make her laugh more maybe daily. “You will remain and hopefully I will hear more of your laugh.” Your smile only grows with his answer. “Please rest for now. Our journey isn’t over.”

I told this to her three months ago. Sometimes in the cockpit when the three of us are sitting, I remove my glove and reach across where her warm hand awaits mine as I speak her name. I’m happy to hear my name from her lips when we’re alone. A glove is what I can give her now. When she smiles softly at me I want to give her more, so much more of myself but I’m not sure how. Learning more of her and loving her as the shape of our relationship changes.

I wonder where else she may allow my hand to go. How else she may say my name as we travel and see the galaxy. Will I change the way I say hers? I wonder if I can tell her that she's both my mesh'la and my cyar’ka. Is it still too soon? Maybe as we continue to explore the intimacy we now share, then I can tell her.

Our journey together continues. This is The Way.

Part One. Part Three

Space Buddies 🚀: @linzels-blog @maggiemayhemnj @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @missladym1981 @morallyinept @sherala007 @yorksgirl @daddy-dins-girl @magpiepills @megamindsecretlair @anoverwhelmingdin @theincredibleinkspitter @alltheglitterandtheroar @mrsmando @drawingdroid @harriedandharassed @i-own-loki @lady-bess @pedroshotwifey @thefrogdalorian @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin

#pedro pascal characters #fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin fanfiction #mandalorian fanfic #din djarin x plus size reader #din djarin x reader #A Nerdie fic

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frodo-cinnamonroll · 10 months

Text

How the Fellowship Would Sleep

a/n: Here's another headcanon! These are just the dumb things I think of lol. I feel kinda bad bc some of them have half a sentence and some a whole paragraph but whatever ig I have more headcancons with them in it

________________________________________

Gandalf: You can hardly catch him sleeping at all, or at least, no one can tell when he's asleep or awake. Sometimes he has his hat on his face but when Merry or Pippin try to pull a prank on him, he'll yell at them.

Aragorn: He doesn't sleep all that much and only is "resting his eyes." Always makes sure the hobbits get rest. hobbit dad #1 Always makes sure he knows where his sword is.

Legolas: He can sleep while he's walking, like all elves, and prefers to walk among the stars. Is often heard singing some old elvish tune, and Gimli usually tells him to stop (but he doesn't)

Gimli: very heavy sleeper. He snores the loudest--it sounds like an army of orcs going over a waterfall, as Legolas describes it. He always has his axe by his side. He grunts whenever he moves. Once, Merry and Pippin braided his whole beard while he was asleep and he would have strangled them had it not been for Aragorn and Legolas talking sense into him. Gimli always has an eye on them.

Boromir: also a heavy sleeper. He snores, but not nearly as loud as Gimli (he denies it though). He'll shout battle-cries in his sleep every now and then and scare everyone awake. He turns into a watch dog when the hobbits fall asleep. hobbit dad #2 Takes up all the space he is physically able to.

Merry: snores occasionally, but mostly just breathes loudly. He always sleeps on his back with his hands behind his head. Always makes sure he has his pipe in his pack before he goes to bed. Also, makes sure Pippin doesn't sleep too close to a cliff or anything. sweet big brother cousin. aww

Pippin: talks or sings in his sleep all the time. He can sleep forever and a day, but once he's awake, everyone is. Has a designated blanket that no one touches which he claims is for "good luck purposes" baby fool of a took

Sam: snores lightly and is often embarrassed about it. Hates waking up with a bed-head (but all the hobbits do). Has a small teddy bear that hides in his pack, and when it's found out, he claims he "doesn't know how it got in there" while blushing as red as a tomato (it's okay, Sam, we all need our teddy bears)

Frodo: is generally a light sleeper but can sleep for a good long while. Sleeps curled up (babyyyy). He dreams a lot but they're usually not pleasant. Mumbles in his sleep. He gets cold easily.

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bts-trans · 2 months

Text

230707 Big Hit's Tweet

[네이버 포스트] 띵동! 슈가 & Agust D & 윤기의 모습을 가득 담은 종합 선물 세트가 도착했습니다🎁 (@ https://m.post.naver.com/viewer/postView.naver?volumeNo=36214098&memberNo=51325039) #BTS #방탄소년단 #슈가 #SUGA #AgustD #D_DAY

[Naver Post] Ding dong! Your SUGA & Agust D & Yoongi gift set has arrived🎁 (@ https://m.post.naver.com/viewer/postView.naver?volumeNo=36214098&memberNo=51325039)

#BTS #SUGA #AgustD #D_DAY

Naver Post Translation

Keep reading for a plain text version of the blog post! Since Tumblr unfortunately has a picture limit for posts, please check out our twitter post or the HD version on our website for a version with all photos included!

[BTS] SUGA | Agust D 'D-DAY' 활동기 비하인드 대공개!

[BTS] SUGA | Agust D ‘D-DAY’ Activity Period Behind-the-Scenes Release!

아-하!

Hi-A!

(T/N: Stands for ‘Hi ARMY’, which is how Bangbell always starts these posts.)

꒰⸝⸝•ᴗ•⸝⸝꒱੭⁾⁾

방림이가 너무 오랜만에 왔죠? (;´・`)> 오랜만에 온 만큼 어마 무시한 포스트 주인공을 데리고 왔는데요?! 오늘의 주인공은 바로바로바로바로~~~ (모두 다 알고 있지만) SUGA | Agust D의 솔로 앨범 활동기 비하인드!

It’s been a while since Bangbell was here, right? (;´・`)>

But since it’s been a while, I’ve brought an incredible star for this post?! And today’s star is is is is is~~~ (You all already know but) The behind-the-scenes for SUGA | Agust D ’s solo album activity period!

포스트를 시작하기에 앞서 퀴즈 나갑니다 민슈가의 매력 포인트는 무엇일까요? 1. 귀여움 2. 멋있음 3. 섹시함 4. 잘생김 5. 말랑함 정답은요?

1, 2, 3, 4, 5 아무래도 당모. 당연히 모두 다. 슈가의 귀여움, 멋있음, 섹시함, 잘생김, 말랑함을 다 모아 포스트에 가-득 담아왔으니 바로 시작하시죠!

Before we start this post, there’s a quiz

What’s Min Suga’s most charming feature?

His cuteness

His coolness

His sexiness

His handsomeness

His squishiness

The answer?

1, 2, 3, 4, 5 No matter what you pick AOTA. All Of The Above.

I’ve gathered together all of Suga’s cuteness, coolness, sexiness, handsomeness, and squishiness and have put it aaall in this post so let’s begin!

말랑 포근 남친 + 예민 존잘 수트 남신 두 가지 콘셉트를 전부 볼 수 있었던 ‘사람 Pt.2 (feat. 아이유)’ MV 비하인드로 가볍게 시작해 볼까요?

A soft and cozy boyfriend + A sharp, handsome, suit-wearing god Shall we start with the behind-the-scenes for the ‘People Pt.2 (feat. IU)’ MV where you can see both of these concepts?

*Ꙩꙻ₀Ꙩꙻ)！ 조그만 곳에 들어가는 걸 좋아하고 신 걸 못 먹는 걸 보니 민윤기는 고양이가 확실합니다(?) MV에서는 그렇게 날티나던 OPPA였는데 현장에선 이렇게 귀여운 게 말이 돼?! ㄴ외않되

*Ꙩꙻ₀Ꙩꙻ)！ He likes going into small places and he can’t eat sour things so I’m positive that Min Yoongi is a cat(?)

In the MV he appeared like such a playboy OPPA* But on set he’s so cute. Does that even make sense?! ㄴWhy not?

(T/N: ‘Oppa’ is the Korean word women use to refer to a man who is older than them. Female fans also use this term affectionately for male celebrities.)

5252~ 귀여운 ‘해금’ MV 속 애옹이를 보느라 처연미 넘치는 ‘AMYGDALA’ MV 비하인드도 잊으면 안된다구 항상 미남이지만 본인피셜 “이때 예뻤네~!” 말이 나오게 만드는 ‘AMYGDALA’ MV 속에서는 더더욱 어머 미남.. ⸝⸝• ̫•⸝⸝

Hey hey*~ Just because you saw a cute kitty in the ‘Haegeum’ MV doesn’t mean you can forget about the ‘AMYGDALA’ MV that’s full of tragic beauty

(T/N: The number 5252 is pronounced “oh ee oh ee / 오이오이” in Korean, which sounds a lot like the greeting “Hey / eo ee, 어이” that you would shout at someone.)

He’s always been a handsome man but in the ‘AMYGDALA’ MV even he ended up saying “Wow, I looked so pretty then~!” Oh my what a handsome man.. ⸝⸝• ̫•⸝⸝

깜짝 사연 모집과 함께 오랜만에 돌아와서 아미들을 놀라게 했는데 보이는 라디오를 통해 더 물오른 미모로 더더더 놀라게 했던 꿀에펨부터 슙디… 금방 돌아온다고 했으니까 기다릴게… 기다린다! 우리… 한 발자국도 안 움직인다! 슙디 돌아올 때까지 숨참기 시작

Starting with Kkul FM which came back after a long time along with a surprise story submission form and really caught ARMYs off guard and surprised them even more with his beautiful looks through a video radio show

DJ Syub*… you said you’ll be back soon so we’ll wait… we’ll wait! We… won’t even move a single step! Starting now we’re holding our breath until DJ Syub returns

(T/N: The alias Suga uses when he hosts his radio show Kkul FM.)

있지도 않은 남사친 기억 조작하게 만들면서 많은 아미들 심장 떨리게 만들었던 팔레트

Palette, which made everyone think of a guy friend that they don’t even have and made so many ARMYs’ hearts flutter

미니미즈가 함께 출연한 핑계고에서 본 뜻밖의 귤디 (◍•ᴗ•◍)❤

갑작스런 퀴즈. 슈가는 핑계고에서 귤을 몇 개를 먹었을까요? 정답은 아미가 알려줄 거야…

Tangerine D was unexpectedly seen on Just an Excuse which the Minimis* appeared on together (◍•ᴗ•◍)❤

(T/N: A nickname for Suga and Jimin.)

Pop quiz. How many tangerines did Suga eat on Just an Excuse? ARMYs will let you know the answer…

주인장 아니고 게스트로 나와서 으른 섹시 + 잔망 귀여움 다 보여줬던 슈취타 아니고 알취타도 있구요!

He appeared as a guest instead of the host and showed off menacing sexiness + adorableness And it wasn’t Suchwita, it was Rchwita*!

(T/N: The name of Suga’s talk show ‘Suchwita’ changed to ‘Rchwita’ when RM hosted for one episode.)

of the 아미 for the 아미 by the 아미 오로지 아미만을 생각하면서 준비한 로드 투 아미 솔직히 정식으로 귀미챌 한 번 더 해줘야 된다고 생각합니다. (진지)

of the ARMY for the ARMY by the ARMY He prepared Road to ARMY while only thinking of ARMY

If I’m being honest, I think he needs to do the SICC* again. (I’m serious)

(T/N: Stands for “Sorry I’m Cute Challenge,” which was a trend many idols did during fanmeets.)

해외에 나가서도 아미들이랑 이야기 나누고 싶다고 현지 시간으로 이른 아침 일찍부터 찾아와 조곤조곤 많은 이야기 나누고 간 발매 라이브에

Even when he went overseas he said he wanted to talk to ARMYs So he got up in the early hours local time And, very quietly, talked a lot during his album release live

빽빽한 미국 스케줄 사이에 깜짝 무대 선물해 준 팰런쇼

In between his packed schedule in the U.S. He gifted us with a surprise performance on the Fallon Show

두 가지 매력의 데이트룩도 차려입고 아미들과 영화관 데이트했던 무비 나잇까지..!

He donned two date outfits with two different charms and went on a movie date with ARMYs for Movie Night..!

끝인 줄 알았지?! 최고의 선물 ‘해금’ 안무 영상은 또 얼마나 열심히 준비했게요

You thought this was the end right?!

How hard must he have prepared for the ‘Haegeum’ dance practice video, which was the best gift ever

해금 추는 민윤기… 다시 볼 수 있기 기원 정권 찌르기 1일차… 콘서트 준비에 바빴을 텐데 아미들 심심하지 말라고 언제 다 준비해놓고 짜잔- 한 상 차려놓은 민윤기 안 사랑하는 법 나는 몰라 진짜 몰라 ( ˃̣̣̥ω˂̣̣̥ )

Min Yoongi dancing to Haegeum… This is day 1 of pestering the higher ups to let me see that again…

He must have been so busy preparing for his concerts But just so ARMYs wouldn’t be bored Min Yoongi prepared everything at some point and ta da- He prepared an entire feast Seriously I don’t even know how I’m not supposed to love him ( ˃̣̣̥ω˂̣̣̥ )

여기에 콘서트는 또 얼마나 기깔나게 준비했다구욧!? 콘서트 준비 과정도 함께 만나볼까요? ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

Just how much did he say he prepared here for the concert!? Shall we go check out the concert preparation process? ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

고양이도 콘서트 포스터 촬영을 할 수 있는 건가요? 슈가는 없고 앙큼 고영 밖에 없는데요?

Can cats also take photos for concert posters? There’s no Suga here just a devious kitty?

비상비상!!! 1 아미 1 애옹이 보급 시급 이과 아미들 뭐 하는데!! 민윤기 복제 안 하고 뭐 하는데!! (땡깡)

Emergency emergency!!! 1 ARMY 1 kitty are urgently needed ARMYs who studied science, what are you doing!! Why haven’t you cloned Min Yoongi yet!! (Throwing a tantrum)

✧/ᐠ-ꞈ-ᐟ| 이 이모티콘 그 잡채…

✧/ᐠ-ꞈ-ᐟ| He’s the epitome of this emoticon…

의미 있는 자신감으로 Full 라이브 밴드 콘서트를 준비한 슈가… 아미들 마음을 조사버릴 민윤기 책임져.. 난 365일 중에 613일 정도는 민윤기 생각만 한다고 그리고 대망의 콘.서.트. 두둥!

Full of meaningful confidence Suga prepared a full live-band concert…

Min Yoongi, who’s destroying ARMYs’ hearts Take responsibility.. I think of only Min Yoongi 613 days out of 365 days

And now the long-awaited con.cert.

Drum roll!

크으으으으으으 My rap star… My rockstar… My king… 슈가는 왕이에요…

Woooooooooow My rap star… My rockstar… My king… Suga is the king…

이렇게 길고 알찼던 활동만큼 길고도 알찼던 활동기 포스트가 끝이 났습니다! 뭐 잊은 거 없냐구요? 乁(ᴗ ͜ʖ ᴗ)ㄏ 글~쎄요?? 넝담이고~

For as long and packed as this activity period was this long and packed acitivity period post is coming to an end!

You’re saying I forgot something?

乁(ᴗ ͜ʖ ᴗ)ㄏ I~don’t know??

Just a joke~

이 포스트를 빌려 아미에게 방림이 전할게 음음음음 다행히도 보여줄 사진은 여태 많이 남았네

Bangbell will take this post as a chance to tell ARMY Mm mm mm mm Thankfully there are still many pictures I have yet to show you*

(T/N: A reference to Suga’s verse in ‘Life Goes On.’)

포스트에 빠질 수 없는 셀카! 이쁜 셀카 이렇게 잔뜩 모아왔다구요! <(=^･^=)> 다양한 콘텐츠와 공연으로 아미들을 즐겁게 해준 슈가 & Agust D & 윤기에게 많은 박수 부탁드립니다~!!! (와아아아~~)

The selfies that we can’t leave out of this post! I’ve gathered all of these pretty selfies! <(=^･^=)>

Please give a big round of applause for Suga & Agust D & Yoongi for preparing all kinds of content and performances for ARMYs to enjoy~!!! (Yaaaaay~~)

어라랏..? 이쯤하면 아뿅이 나올 때가 됐는데..?

Umm..? Doesn’t ‘A-Poof’ usually appear right about now..?

따란~

Ta da~

여러분들이 그렇게 찾던 고양이 셀카를 두고 올 방림이가 아니죠 ~(˘▾˘)~

Bangbell has brought the cat selfie that you all were looking for ~(˘▾˘)~

요즘 날씨가 많이 더운데 방림이가 더위를 물리치는 특별 방법을 알려드릴게요! 1. 슈가 사진 보기 2. Agust D 노래 듣기 3. 민윤기 사랑해 외치기

It’s been so hot recently so Bangbell will let you know a special method to beat the heat!

Look at photos of Suga

Listen to Agust D songs

Shout that you love Min Yoongi

그럼 다들 더위 조심하시고~ 다음에 또 다른 선물 같은 콘텐츠로 돌아오겠습니다!

So be careful of the heat~ I’ll come back next time with more gift-life contents!

아-뿅!

A-Poof!

(T/N: Short for “Bye ARMY! Poof!”, which is how Bangbell always ends these posts.)

. ̫ .

[Note]

본 포스트는 BIGHIT MUSIC에서 직접 운영하는 포스트입니다.

This Naver Post account is personally managed by BIGHIT MUSIC.

[End Note]

#230707 #suga #yoongi #agust d #big hit #official #twitter #naver #bangbell #blogpost #bts #bangtan #photos #d-day #promotion period #haegeum #very many nice pictures #the gratitude runs deep #tangerines and kitties

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