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aphroditelovesu · 2 months

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The Lost Queen - XI

— summary: You woke up near a military camp without remembering how and why you got there, you didn’t understand why they were dressed like ancient Greeks, all you knew was that you weren’t safe and you needed to get out of that place as soon as possible. Too bad for you that you found yourself attracting unwanted attention from the Macedonian King and he won’t let you go so easily.

— genre: yandere, dark!au.

— warnings: time travel, obsessive and possessive behavior, murder, mention of torture, kidnapping, angst, fluffy (very rarely), dub-con, possibly smut.

— pairing: yandere!alexander the great x female!reader, yandere!generals x female!reader.

— word count: 2,268.

— tag list: @devils-blackrose, @faerykingdom, @hadesnewpersephone, @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 , @kadu-5607, @zoleea-exultant, @borntoexplore11-blog, @silmawensgarden.

— the lost queen series masterlist.

Chapter 11

In agitated and pulsating Babylon, life flowed incessantly, without pause for rest. Its inhabitants were driven by an inexhaustible energy, immersed in different activities that filled their days. Under a sky permeated with seduction, the city exuded an irresistible charm, conquering all who dared to cross its limits. And in the midst of this frenzy, the Hanging Gardens stood majestically, silent witnesses to the magnificence and beauty of the city.

The city's famous Hanging Gardens not only added beauty to the urban scenery, but also aroused admiration in everyone who looked at them. It was said that it was one of the Seven Wonders and that it should be worshiped.

The story of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon was even more fascinating.

A long time ago, in ancient Babylon, the powerful king Nebuchadnezzar II reigned. He ruled firmly, but also had a sensitive heart for the beauty and well-being of his people. However, his wife, Queen Amytis, felt a deep nostalgia for her homeland, the lush mountainous region of Persia, where gardens were abundant.

To gladden the queen's heart and create a grand gift, King Nebuchadnezzar II ordered the construction of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon. Built into a magnificent structure of raised terraces, these gardens were designed to recreate the exuberance and serenity of Persian gardens amidst the hustle and bustle of the city.

The architects and engineers worked tirelessly, bringing to life a true verdant paradise in the heart of Babylon. Using an intricate network of water channels and irrigation systems, they managed to flow water from the depths of the Euphrates River to the highest terraces, nourishing the exotic plants and leafy trees.

When the Hanging Gardens were finally completed, they became a breathtaking spectacle for all who beheld them. The terraces were adorned with a dazzling array of fragrant flowers, fruit trees and lush greenery, creating a haven of peace and beauty for their beloved Queen.

It was a beautiful city, with a rich and vivid history. It would be a shame if the city fell into the hands of the savage Macedonians. The Persians believed that if the city fell into enemy hands, then the entire Empire would be doomed.

Darius knew this, he was more aware that if something happened to the city, everything would be lost. His defeat in the last battle had already been crushing, he could not be defeated again.

The Persian King sighed, frustrated and sat down on the chair in front of the table full of maps. He poured some wine into his glass and drank it, rubbing his temples irritably. He would have to do something quickly about this or risk losing everything.

The tent flap was opened and Darius frowned when he saw his detestable relative, Bessus. The man smiled mischievously and approached his King.

"You look terrible." Bessus commented, as he took a seat in front of Darius and grabbed some wine for himself.

Darius didn't respond, just drank his wine.

One side of Bessus' mouth quirked up and he chuckled, "You look tense."

"I am tense." Darius grumbled, adjusting his posture. He could never show himself weak in front of this relative of his.

"I can see that," Bessus murmured, stroking his black beard, "Maybe you need some good news."

Darius looked up and looked at Bessus, curious.

"Ah, have I piqued your interest?" Bessus laughed.

"Say it at once."

Bessus placed the glass on the table and smiled like a predator, "Our friend, Alexander, recently got married."

Darius raised his eyebrow, clearly interested in where this conversation was going.

"A certain (Y/N), from what the spies told me."

(Y/N)? It was a different name, one he didn't remember ever hearing.

"And who would this be (Y/N)?" Darius asked, placing the glass on the table.

"Someone who can be useful to us." Bessus licked his lips, as if savoring the idea. Darius stopped himself from shuddering.

"And how could she be useful? She's just his wife."

"That's why, my King. She's his wife and from what I've heard, he seems to care a lot about her. I've heard rumors that he almost killed his own General because of her."

Darius thought. Maybe she could be of help after all. If Alexander really cared so much about her, there would be an advantage.

"And from what my spies are saying, she could be pregnant." Bessus said, rubbing his hands together.

"And what do you suggest I do with this information?"

Bessus laughed darkly, "Bring her to us, Darius. I have spies ready to infiltrate the Macedonian camp, one word from you and she will be brought to us."

Darius didn't like the idea of kidnapping a pregnant woman, but these were desperate times. He could not suffer another humiliating defeat to Alexander. These were war times, after all. And all is fair in war.

Darius nodded hesitantly, "Do it."

Bessus smiled widely and stood up, turning his back to Darius.

"Bessus," Darius called in a serious, lethal voice, "Don't hurt her."

Bessus nodded, "I won't."

As Bessus exited his tent, Darius sighed loudly. He wasn't sure what he had ordered, but he knew it was too late to reverse it. He could not show weakness in front of his soldiers. Not now.

He needed to relax and so he called a name, "Bagoas."

Darius didn't even blink when the eunuch appeared in front of him and began to remove his overcoat. He needed this to clear his mind about what he was about to do.

The women looked terrified.

You felt sorry for the Persian women, the captives. It was obvious what would happen to them and you felt sick to your stomach just thinking about their possible fate. Although Alexander had prohibited rape, it was inevitable.

You would have to talk to him about it. It was unacceptable and since you were the Queen, you would have something to say about it.

You watched the Persian royal family carefully. After Darius's defeat at the Battle of Issus, he left his mother, wife and daughters behind. You already knew this story and couldn't help but be curious as you watched the women.

You were next to Hephaestion and Alexander, who were also watching the women carefully. At least these wouldn't suffer a bad fate.

Not now, at least.

The oldest of the women, who you immediately recognized as Sisygambis, the mother of Darius, approached Hephaestion and fell at his feet, prostrating herself and begging for mercy.

You bit back a laugh when you saw how Hephaestion's eyes widened in surprise.

"Please, Grand King, I ask that you spare my granddaughters..." The woman muttered, as she still had her face lowered in her hands on the floor of the tent. Hephaestion muttered something under his breath and looked desperately at Alexander.

Sisygambis turned pale when she realized her mistake, fearing that she had offended the King by mistaking him for a mere general.

Alexander decided to say something, "Don't worry, mother. He's also Alexander."

You held back a laugh when you heard the well-known words of Alexander the Great. It was like watching a movie in first person.

Alexander turned to you, "And here is my wife and Queen, (Y/N)."

You blushed a little at being called that. It was still strange and you were sure it would take a while to get used to being called that.

Straightening your posture, you smiled gently at the women, who watched you carefully. With a calm and serene tone of voice, you greeted them, ''It's a pleasure and an honor to meet you.''

Sisygambis smiled and nodded at her granddaughters, who bowed at you.

You waved your hands, "No, no. Don't worry about it, it's not necessary."

They seemed a little disoriented and confused, but they respected your request. Alexander seemed satisfied and began talking to the women.

You didn't pay much attention when you felt a wave of nausea. You bottled it up and held firm, but you knew full well what that could mean.

After your wedding night a few weeks ago, you continued to share a bed with Alexander a few times and, obviously, there were no contraceptives available and a very high chance of you being pregnant was plaguing you.

You didn't know what you were supposed to think about this. Having children had never been a goal of yours, sure, you had thought about it before, but the idea of actually expecting was scary.

You considered yourself too young to be a mother and the current scenario definitely didn't help. By the gods, you were more than two thousand years in the past, married to one of the greatest conquerors in history and possibly pregnant.

It all seemed like a very bad joke.

And there are still conflicts to be resolved. Cleitus had recovered well and an understanding between him and Alexander was made, it seems, the General forgave Alexander for trying to kill him and everything would return to normal between them. There was tension between the generals over this, but it seemed like everything would be fine.

Thanks to Hephaestion's diplomatic skills.

And there was the matter of Perdiccas.

You sighed just thinking about him. You hadn't spoken in weeks, he seemed determined to ignore you and you'd be lying if you said it didn't hurt you. You had felt something for him, but it seemed to become less and less the further away you were.

You missed him. He was one of the first, no, the first to be kind to you and someone you thought could become a friend, an ally.

But now he avoided you like the Devil avoided the Cross. When you were forced to be in the same room, he would remain silent and avoid your eyes. And when you spoke to him, he only spoke short, sharp words.

There was no longer that warmth, that kindness that you shared before.

You missed him. A lot.

But that was his choice and you would have to live with it. If he wanted to pretend that nothing ever happened between you, that you were mere acquaintances, you would do it. He could be stubborn, but you were more so.

And you couldn't put yourself at risk, not now when there was a chance you could be pregnant. This was for yourself and for this possible child.

You closed your eyes and pressed your hand over your stomach. Fearing for the uncertain future.

Perdiccas knew this was treason.

He was very aware that what he was doing could lead to him being sentenced to death. He knew it but he didn't care.

It was a crime of treason, a serious betrayal against his King, against his childhood friend and his beloved Macedonia.

But he didn't care. Something inside him just exploded on your wedding day and he knew there was nothing he could do to destroy that uncomfortable feeling.

He was jealous and angry. Jealous that Alexander had you in every way and angry with you and himself. Anger at you because you didn't choose to run away with him and at himself for not insisting.

But he was hurt, feeling betrayed. Perdiccas thought you liked him, maybe you could even be falling in love with him, but you chose Alexander over him.

And he hated you for it.

He loved you, Perdiccas knew he loved you. You awakened feelings he had never felt before for anyone and he wanted you. He wanted you just for himself, he wanted to be able to love you and adore you like the Queen you were.

You could have been happy together, just the two of you and with children in the future. Perdiccas could envision a happy future with you. You playing with his children while he watched.

You could have had a life next to each other.

But you chose to throw it all away and Perdiccas wouldn't allow it.

You would be his, one way or another.

These words repeated in the General's mind as he stealthily approached your tent with Persian spies at his side.

The camp was dark and strangely silent. Even the swashbuckling soldiers were silent.

Alexander would not share his tent today, he had much work to do with Hephaestion and Ptolemy.

It would be the perfect opportunity.

He waved his hand and the spies quickly knocked out two guards who were assigned to protect you.

Perdiccas was sure you would be asleep at this time. With silent steps, he lifted the flap of the tent and entered it, moving silently inside to where your cot was located.

He smiled like a fool in love when he saw you, asleep. You were covered by a thin blanket and your sleep seemed restless. He looked at the Persian spies and nodded.

It was now.

One of the spies approached you with a piece of fabric in his hand that had some kind of poison on it that would keep you asleep for as long as necessary.

When the cloth was placed under your nose, you woke up with a start and tried to scream, but the spy covered your mouth and pressed the cloth harder against your nose. Eventually, you stopped struggling and your eyes grew heavy, until they closed.

Perdiccas approached you and picked you up carefully. He smiled widely when he glimpsed your beauty.

Now was the time to finally have you for himself.

— lady l: WE'RE BACK, BABY! I know it took me a while to get back to this fanfic and I apologize for that. But we're back and the updates will continue as before! I hope you enjoyed this chapter and… Well, what happens now? I leave the doubt in the air… See you soon!

#the lost queen #tlq #yandere history #history #yandere historical characters #yandere alexander the great #yandere alexander the great x reader #alexander the great x reader #fanfic #long fanfic #yandere au

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pocketjoong · 5 months

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☾₊‧⁺˖⋆noctem⋆˖⁺‧₊☽ 〘act 1, chapter 1〙

〘Synopsis〙『Your hatred of dragons is a hate born of witnessing their flames consume your village, leaving nothing but destruction in their wake. The worst of all is the beast that haunts your dreams, the very dragon whose memory fuels a burning desire for revenge within you. But life has a way of unsettling even the most steadfast convictions. And when you stumble upon a truth that shatters the boundaries of your understanding, you begin to question the very essence of the world you live in.』

〘Pairing〙『Night Fury!Seonghwa x afab!Reader』

〘Genre〙『FANTASY, ACTION, SMUT』

〘Word Count〙『2.1k』

〘Chapter-specific Warnings〙『Based on How To Train Your Dragon. Canon-compliant violence. Mention of injuries. Mentions of dragons attacking the mc's village. MDNI.』

〘Banner Credits〙『@playmetheclassics』

please note: there will be NO taglist for this series

With your heart pounding in your throat, you duck beneath the low-hanging arch of a weathered stone walkway, pressing yourself against the rough surface. Jagged rocks dig into your spine, but the momentary discomfort is nothing compared to the fire raining down from above. Bright orange flames dance in the sky, casting eerie shadows on the cobbled streets of your town.

Pulling the collar of your cloak closer, you try to shield yourself from the fiery onslaught, but even that is not enough to entirely dodge the few sparks that rain down on you, singeing the tips of your hair. At least it’s better than becoming a human shish-kebab, you think wryly.

In the distance, urgent shouts pierced through the roar of the conflagration, and you feel the tendrils of dread coil around your heart. You dare to peek out from your hiding place, only to see children and the villagers who are not fighting the creatures, scrambling to put out the fire that has engulfed the roof of one of the buildings. They pour buckets upon buckets of water to douse the flames, sending a few droplets raining down on you. You welcome the cold relief brought by the icy liquid amidst the heated air, thanks to the fires raging as far as the eye can see.

It’s not a new sight, definitely not one that scares you anymore; it merely sharpens your senses and steels your determination. But in your heart, you worry for the safety of your fellow villagers. The fortnightly attacks by dragons have been a grim routine, much like the twinkling stars in the night sky that had guided your ancestors to the beautiful land of Amberdale. It was named after the waters that would turn the colour of liquid gold every sunrise and sunset, a place where serenity met grandeur. But dark legends whispered only in secret tell of a day that the waters would turn red and spell your village’s doom.

Amberdale is a sanctuary of sorts, surrounded by water on three sides and imposing mountains on the other. It is a haven, a space safe from the threat of other clans, a paradise marred only by the fire-breathing pests that have made life a living hell for the occupants of the town for centuries.

From the corner of your eye, you spot a shadow descending from the sky, signalling the arrival of another winged menace. Realising that no one is around to help, you take a deep breath as your fingers tighten around the trigger of the meticulously laid dragon trap. The mechanism springs to life, and the air crackles as a net shoots towards the beast. The colossal creature crashes to the ground under the crushing weight of the entangling mesh.

As some villagers haul the ensnared dragon away, your gaze locks with the eyes of the dragon. The intelligence in its eyes and the silent plea for help send a shiver down your spine. Shakily, you look away, not wanting to think about the creature anymore.

“Move to the upper defences. We’ll counteract their attacks with the catapults!” Your brother’s command cuts through the cacophony of battle as he rallies the warriors to their positions. He appears beside you under the arch, eyes mirroring the tempest swirling within. The storm in his gaze briefly yields to surprise and concern when he meets your eyes. It’s clear that he wasn’t expecting you to be outside during an attack.

He scans you from head to toe, his sweaty and soot-stained face softening in relief when he sees that you’re unhurt. “Why are you outside? Did something happen at the infirmary?”

“We ran out of supplies, so I had to run all the way across the village to restock,” you inform him grimly, pointing at the bag dangling from your shoulder that is filled to the brim with supplies. “We really should move the warehouse closer to the infirmary, Yunho. Or better yet, expand the infirmary itself to accommodate the supplies. Not only will it save the healers from making unnecessary trips when the village is under attack, but it will also keep the medical supplies safer since the sick bay is the only fireproof building in the entire village.”

“I truly am sorry, Y/N,” your brother dips his head in a gesture of genuine regret, but you catch the weight of responsibility etched on his face. “I know you’ve raised this issue multiple times throughout the years, and I promise you it has been on our to-do list for a while, but…” he trails off with a sigh, shrugging helplessly.

You understand the cause of the delay; you truly do. There are more important things to do, like rebuilding structures destroyed in the attacks, preparing for storm week that arrives every three months, ensuring the safety of everyone during the attacks, forging more weapons and installing catapults around the cliffs, training people how to fight dragons and conducting research on the various species of the beasts that haunt your existence. There is so much to do, leaving little room to address the nagging issue of relocating a warehouse or expanding the infirmary.

“I understand we have more pressing matters to attend to,” you offer him an impish grin, taking the opportunity to nudge your brother’s shoulder with your own playfully. But the joke on your tongue dies down when a whistle-like sound you’ve come to associate with danger pierces the night sky. Instinctively, your gaze darts upward as you try to spot the source of the sound.

Objectively, you know that you should find cover to escape the inevitable attack that is to follow. Still, your fascination with this particular beast outweighs any and all sense of self-preservation. Your eyes scan the skies, hunting for any sign of the approaching peril, but, as usual, there’s nothing. There’s no telltale movement, not even a blur, that would allow you to pinpoint the location of the elusive beast.

“Night Fury,” the whisper leaves your lips at the same time as a pair of strong arms wrap around your shoulders before the person tugs you to bring you into a crouch. The abrupt movement sends a jolt through you, and you come crashing down on your knees.

“Duck!” Wooyoung’s urgent shout tears through the chaos, piercing through the clamour of battle. He shields you with his body just as a ball of fire collides with the catapult installed on the cliffs looming above you. The impact shatters the contraception and sends a cascade of stone and wood raining down upon all of you.

After what feels like an eternity, the onslaught finally stops, and you cautiously sit up, eyes scanning the debris-strewn landscape. Your first instinct is to fuss over Wooyoung since he had covered you with his body to shield you from the debris. The ringing in your ears and the reverberations of your pounding heart are momentarily drowned out by your concern for his well-being.

“Your stitches,” you frown at the red-haired male, reaching out towards where towards him. However, the male is quick to intercept your hands with his own, covering them protectively as he shakes his head.

“I’m fine. I took care to protect my injured side,” he assures you, a smile playing on his lips. His words ease some of the panic coursing through you. The moment you turn to check on Yunho, you find him already crawling closer.

“Are you two okay?” He asks, concern etched across his features as he gazes at the two of you.

“Dandy,” you mutter darkly, brushing off the debris from your cloak and cursing the blasted dragons under your breath. Now that you’re sure both males are relatively unhurt, you turn to Wooyoung with a grateful smile. “Thanks for that, Woo.”

He shakes his head, rolling his eyes good-naturedly, “Someone has to look out for you when you're not paying attention to your surroundings. We can’t afford to have our best healer getting hurt, now, can we?”

Yunho grins at his friend’s words but shifts his attention to you as you prepare to resume your journey back to the sick bay. “Do you need an escort to the infirmary?”

“Yunho, they’ll probably need you at the ballista. The other dragons we can deal with, but that menace is what we need to hunt down as soon as possible,” Wooyoung tells the taller male, regarding him with pleading eyes. Now that the Night Fury has appeared, every hunter is a crucial asset, and your brother happens to be the best in the entire village.

Yunho, caught in the dilemma of divided priorities, purses his lips. The familiar struggle between his duty to protect the village versus the instinct to ensure your safety is evident on his face. You know your brother well enough to recognise that he would drop everything in a heartbeat to ensure your safety first and foremost.

“I’ll escort her if that makes you feel better,” sensing the conflict on Yunho’s face, Wooyoung steps in to break the silence that hangs heavy between the three of you.

“No, it’s okay,” you say, sighing when both of them stare at you with concerned expressions that cause a pang in your heart. “The two of you are the most gifted warriors we have, and there’s no point in either of you sticking around to escort me to a building that's practically a stone’s throw away from here.”

“But—”

You shut Yunho down with a firm look, your voice cutting through any protest. “I’ll be fine, Yun. I’ve done this hundreds of times. Just promise me you won’t come back injured. If there is one thing I can’t bear, it’s you getting hurt.”

Yunho’s tough exterior softens at your words, and he nods in agreement, “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be careful.”

Convinced, you turn to narrow your eyes at Wooyoung, catching him off guard. He gulps at your sudden change in expression. “And you. Don’t you dare reopen those stitches, young man. It took me an hour to do these, and I will not be gentle if you mess them up. You’re almost healed, and redoing the stitches will unnecessarily delay your healing.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Wooyoung responds with a salute, straightening his posture to stand at his full height. “I promise to be careful as well.”

“Are you sure you’re okay with me leaving?” Your brother tightens his grip on the handle of the sword that’s strapped to his side. “Wooyoung can escort you. He’s not fully healed anyways, and no one would mind him sitting out of the battle for once.”

“I’d feel much better if I knew the two of you are together,” you confess, averting your gaze from both of them to take in the chaotic scene unfolding around you. Despite your efforts to seem nonchalant, you can feel both males regarding your features with probing scrutiny and worry.

Wooyoung opens his mouth to say something, but a familiar, piercing whistle cuts through the air—the unmistakable herald of the Night Fury’s return. The dragon has circled back around the mountain peak to descend upon the village once more. The noise snaps you into action, and you shove both males towards the path that leads to the cliffs. “Go.”

Yunho releases a sigh, his shoulders slumping in a resigned acceptance, and he nods. Before he and Wooyoung dash toward the mounted ballista—the only weapon that would give the village a shot against the looming beast—Yunho's hand finds yours, offering a reassuring squeeze. YOu nod back at him and watch them run towards the ballista.

“Your sister is downright terrifying when she wants to be!” Wooyoung’s voice carries back to you. His whiny tone is met with an involuntary laugh from you, mingling with Yunho’s echoing laughter, which is followed by more whining from the other male that you can’t make sense of now that they’re much farther away.

Before you step into the infirmary to prepare for the inevitable influx of injured villagers, you’re unable to resist the urge to scan the skies once more. Your gaze lingers on the moonless sky as you search for the elusive Night Fury, the dragon that no one has ever seen.

You hope that Yunho and Wooyoung can hunt it down, for even though the Night Fury doesn’t pillage like its brethren, it acts as a guardian to the other dragons. It is always there to help them to attack the village and steal livestock and supplies. Removing the dragon from the equation would undoubtedly make the task of defending your village much easier.

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randxmthxughts · 1 year

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Unrequited - Chapter 3 - Tsu'tey x Omatikaya!Reader

prologue | chapter 1 | chapter 2

summary: on one particular night, y/n offers tsu'tey intimacy with no expectations in return, which sparks up a complex relationship between them. they grapple with guilt, unrequited love, and newfound intimacy, as y/n and tsu'tey navigate the depths of their feelings for each other

wc: 5k

contains: one-sided love, angst, smut, friends with benefits (ig), smut in this chapter!

a/n: this chapter integrates arvok's plot (tsu'tey's brother), so if you're curious, here's a short post explaining his backstory. i think there will be about 2 more chapters and we'll be done with the series ♡ feel free to send me asks about the series about whatever, i love theorizing with you

unrequited masterlist | general masterlist

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

As soon as the eclipse began, you would often find yourself hurrying down the well-worn path that led to the training hut, your feet carrying you through the glowing, lush forest. Your heart raced with anticipation, whenever the faint light from within the hut came into your sight, welcoming you in and signaling that Tsu’tey was already waiting for you inside. The hut was a safe haven for your meetups, far enough from the Home Tree to offer you privacy and closed off enough to protect you from accidental encounters with the forest animals. Your cheeks would flush with excitement for the next few hours spent in the comfort of his company, ignoring that small crack in your heart growing deeper with each visit. A constant reminder that Tsu’tey was never truly yours.

And when the sun rose, you would quickly make your way to the river, to wash off any signs of Tsu’tey, as if the night never had happened. You’d return back to the Home Tree, eager to occupy yourself with your daily tasks. Ever since the battle, Mo’at had finally begun to recognize you as a helpful asset and gave you more challenging work. Grateful for the distraction, you tried your best to push away the nagging feeling that Tsu’tey was growing tired of you.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Despite Norm’s persistence to talk Tsu’tey into his suggestions, he knew he was outmatched the moment Tsu’tey stopped in his tracks to focus his attention on something else. His eyes were glued to your frame, unable to concentrate on anything else but how at ease and relaxed you seemed to be, finally acting your age. Norm continued to babble about opening a new school but Tsu’tey paid him no mind, instead swatting his hand to dismiss him, and pricking his ears to try and hear whatever Takuk was telling you to make you laugh. Tsu’tey couldn’t shake off the feeling of jealousy that gnawed at him… he had never made you laugh when you were spending time with him. And while growing up, he had always felt protective of you, this time it felt different. Norm followed Tsu’tey’s line of sight, finding you at the end of it.

“Tsu’tey, surely you remember how Grace taught you, right? Why not consider a new school?” Norm stepped in front of Tsu’tey to block you from his sight.

“Grace is gone. Who will teach the children now?” Tsu’tey retorted, irritated, forced to shift his attention back to Norm.

“I will! And many scientists from the lab volunteered to help out.”

“Can’t you see that the clan has more important issues to focus on? You want to invite the sky people back here again to ruin everything?” Tsu’tey gestured towards the wreckage of the Home Tree, his voice laced with annoyance.

“Come on, now, you know that having a school can help!” Norm threw his hands in the air, as if Tsu’tey was denying him the most obvious solution.

Tsu’tey opened his mouth to disagree, but the train of his thought was abruptly interrupted by one of his warriors running towards him, hollering at the top of his lungs.

"Tsu'tey! You have to see this!"

The voice immediately caught your attention too, as you and Takuk swiftly rose to your feet, starting to sense a sudden commotion in the distance. The second Tsu’tey and Norm ran off, both of you followed right after them, drawing closer to a gathering crowd. You lost sight of Tsu’tey but luckily, Takuk led the way, making room for you to join the front of the crowd and see the unfolding scene.

Arvok, Tsu’tey’s younger brother, was wrestling with Jake in the middle of the circle. It looked like Arvok was struggling to keep up with Jake’s fluid combat, tightly gripping a knife in his hand that couldn’t quite reach his opponent. Yet, despite the obvious outcome of the fight, Arvok was refusing to give up, growling and hissing under Jake. You covered your mouth in disbelief at the sight. You've known Arvok since childhood - he was always a quiet and obedient child, just a few years younger than you. Over time, you discovered that you had quite a bit in common with him, and even interacted on occasion. But growing up in the shadow of his brother's glory, Arvok always yearned for his parents' love and respect, yet never quite received it. His strained relationship with Tsu'tey only added to his feelings of isolation, and you often felt sorry for him, knowing that neither of you would ever truly be seen by Tsu'tey.

Your eyes darted around the crowd, taking in the chaos and noise. They settled the second you caught a glimpse of Tsu’tey’s parents, who stood out amidst the chaos. Ateyo, Tsu’tey’s father, had a fearsome reputation in the clan. Even when you were little, older kids would sometimes scare you with Ateyo’s name in order to discipline you. He often argued with Eytukan, thinking that he did not deserve to be the chief, but eventually things settled, when Tsu’tey mated with Silwanin and stood next in line to lead the clan. Tsu’tey’s mother, Artsut, was next to her mate, her eyes glassy as she watched her youngest child lose. She was known to be the driving force in her family, always pushing Ateyo and their sons to strive for more and demand what others had. Since the arrival of Jake and him becoming Toruk Makto, Tsu’tey’s parents never hid their open hatred towards the dreamwalker. They believed Jake was a demon who betrayed their clan and stole Neytiri from Tsu’tey. So when Tsu’tey refused to pick a fight with Jake, they redirected their efforts at their youngest son, who always sought validation.

Unlike the others, they seemed unphased, almost as if they were expecting the fight. Tsu’tey stepped in, pulling Jake off his brother, and taking a stand between two men. He shouted angrily, looking in between them.

“What is the matter with you? Two of my brothers fighting each other?” he put on his scary Olo’eyktan face, silencing the crowd.

Arvok quickly rose to his feet, his eyes roaming over the crowd to avoid meeting Tsu’tey’s. It did not slip your attention, the way Arvok caught sight of his parents and hung his head immediately. Jake took a step back with a sigh, nodding to show he agreed with Tsu’tey. It was clear that he did not want to participate, and that the duel was most likely called by Arvok. Everyone was caught off guard when Ateyo suddenly stepped forward with a puffed out chest.

“You cannot intervene in a duel, even if you are the Olo’eyktan,” Ateyo spoke loudly, earning a scowl from his oldest son, “You must respect the tradition and let the fight end in a victory for one of the two men.”

The crowd murmured in agreement as Ateyo spoke, their nods and chants echoing his sentiments. You too knew that Ateyo was right - once a duel had begun, it had to be seen through to maintain the warriors' honor. Tsu’tey's expression fell as he looked out at his people, his mind likely recalling his own fight with Jake. Neytiri had tried to stop it then, but Eytukan insisted on respecting the clan’s tradition. It was one of those defining moments where Tsu’tey had to choose between being a good Olo’eyktan or being a friend.

“Fine,” Tsu’tey nodded, stepping out of the circle.

Without a warning, Arvok jumped at Jake, hurling his knife at him. You held your breath at the sound of the metal slicing through the air, but Jake managed to avoid it, instead delivering a punch to Arvok’s middle and knocking the air out of him. Arvok stumbled back, giving Jake an opening to kick him to the ground and strangle him. The crowd let out a collective gasp, when Toruk Makto pressed down on Arvok’s throat. Arvok struggled to fight back as his air supply was cut off, but he eventually calmed down and admitted defeat. Jake panted heavily, slowly getting off of Arvok and looking around at the people who acknowledged his clear victory. But it wasn’t the end, and Arvok was not satisfied with the outcome. Taking him by surprise, Arvok threw his knife at Jake. The man stumbled backward, managing to catch the knife with his hand and slicing it open.

Everyone watched in shock, as Jake collapsed on the ground. Mo’at and you jumped to his side, quickly checking for his pulse. Neytiri appeared by you in an instant, eyes wide with worry as she waited for either of you to tell her what happened.

"What is wrong?" she asked, her voice shaking with concern.

"Toruk Makto has been poisoned," Mo'at announced loudly. "The knife was poisoned.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

It was late, when you exited Tsahik's hut, exhausted from the late hour and the arduous task of gathering specific herbs from deep caves to prepare medicine for Jake. You left knowing that Mo'at and Neytiri would stay with him throughout the night, so your help wasn’t needed anymore.

As you stepped outside, you noticed Tsu'tey lingering in the shadows by the entrance. You knew he had spent the entire day in a meeting with the elders, discussing the punishment for his family. The weight of the decision was written all over his face. It was evident that no matter what punishment he chose, it would be difficult for Tsu'tey to enforce it upon his own kin.

“Is he…?” Tsu’tey nodded towards the hut.

“Don’t worry,” you answered, “The medicine helped fight the poison, he just needs to rest for the night.”

“So he’ll be alright?”

“Yes, you can ask Mo’at, she’s inside.”

Tsu’tey nodded in appreciation, but when he moved to walk in, you caught him by the wrist. He looked back at you slightly confused.

“Are you alright?” you asked.

“Don’t worry about me,” he shook off, brushing past you into the hut.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

The sound of the raindrops against the roof of your hut created a steady beat that night, threatening to break into a thunderstorm at any moment. You were caught off guard when Tsu’tey showed up at your door, his hair soaked as if he had been caught in the downpour. Because usually, if he wanted to see you, he would have met you at the training camp. But on this night, Tsu’tey couldn’t help but come to you, seeking any kind of comfort he could get.

“Can I come in?” his voice was barely audible over the sound of the rain.

“Tsu’tey… of course,” you answered quietly.

Your heart ached at the sight of him, standing before you with a look so reminiscent of the time he had fought with Jake. The memory of offering him a piece of yourself that night came flooding back. It had been rare for him to reveal his vulnerable side to anyone, but he couldn't bear to go through this alone. Not after he knew the comfort of having someone unconditionally by his side.

Tsu’tey had been forced to put aside his principles, playing the role of the Olo’eyktan all too well that day. But now, he had no more energy to keep up the facade. He walked toward you slowly, his once-confident gait now faltering. You couldn't help but notice the way his shoulders hunched, eyebrows furrowed with a deep wrinkle in between them, laced with worry.

“I’m so sorry, Tsu’tey,” you expressed, opening your arms to him. Immediately Tsu’tey fell into your embrace, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“Jake Sully could have died because of Arvok’s carelessness,” he growled angrily, “He still acts like a child, blindly following my mother’s orders. Look where it got him… so stupid.”

“He is a good kid, Tsu’tey, he is just lost,” you sighed, patting his back gently.

“It is not enough to be good to be excused from a punishment. Arvok must bear the consequences of his actions now,” he declared, pulling away from you.

“What did you decide?” you asked carefully.

“My family will be exiled from the Omatikaya clan. All three of them,” he whispered.

“All three?” you asked, shocked. You had heard rumors that Arvok’s challenge had been encouraged by his parents, but you had never expected this outcome.

“I have no family anymore,” Tsu’tey confirmed, “My parents were plotting Jake Sully’s death from the beginning. They poisoned the knife, and they must bear the punishment too.”

Your heart sank as the weight of his words. It was a merciful decision, of course, but it still seemed harsh. Tsu’tey had to reject his own family from the clan.

“They will leave in the morning,” he added.

As Tsut’ey spoke, the storm outside seemed to grow louder, mimicking the turmoil in his heart. You gulped down watching him for a moment before reaching for his hand and pulling him closer to you. When he finally met your eyes, you pressed a soft kiss to his chest. The rain continued to patter against your hut, falling into a rhythm with the beating of your heart.

“Do you want to stay the night?” you asked carefully. He only nodded.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

“‘M close, Tsu’tey,” you panted, digging your nails into his shoulders, as his dick pushed deeper into you.

Tsu’tey was breathing heavily too, his hands guiding you by your hips to lift you up and down his cock, taking him all in. He savored the sight of your breasts bouncing, before your slowness started to become too painful and he decided to take over. He grasped at your waist and shifted slightly, starting to thrust into you from below. You moaned, letting him control you the way he wished, feeling the tension in your core starting to grow, convulsing painfully. Tsu’tey felt your walls squeeze his dick tightly, finally coming undone, as he pushed you over the edge. It wasn’t long till he felt his own orgasm approaching. He buried his face in your chest to stifle a loud moan and followed after you. You shivered at the feeling of his warm liquid filling you, resting your forehead against his shoulder. Your lips quickly found their way to Tsu’tey’s neck, peppering his skin with small kisses.

“Thank you,” his words were barely above whisper, as his hand went up to pat you on your hair.

You kissed his neck one more time before shifting to swing your leg over him and instead lay down by his side. Tsu’tey pulled you closer, and you pressed your ear to his chest, listening to the way his heartbeat gradually began to slow down.

“You’re warm,” you noted, snuggling closer to him.

The sound of raindrops pattering against the roof of your hut did not calm, signaling an approaching thunderstorm. And while usually it scared you, you found it to be quite comforting at this moment. It was a blessing from Eywa to help the forest grow and recover, a sign that the clan was on the right path.

“You’re too kind to me, Y/N, I do not deserve this,” Tsu’tey spoke suddenly, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You looked up to catch his expression, eyes widening in surprise. Where was this coming from?

“I have made many mistakes, this must be my punishment from Eywa,” he continued, “Sometimes I wonder if I even deserve to lead a clan.”

He sighed, his eyes avoiding looking at you. You were baffled at his confession, you had no idea that he ever felt that way. Tsu’tey had been preparing for his role his whole life. How could he doubt himself? Think that he deserved what happened to him?

“This is not a punishment, Tsu’tey, it is only a trial,” you sat up slightly, “You must stop blaming yourself for the bad things that happened. It wasn’t your fault.”

“I think it was,” he shook his head, disagreeing with you.

“You are a strong leader, Tsu’tey,” you craned your neck to look at him, “You will do great things. I am grateful for the happiness you've brought into my life.”

“Happiness?” he chuckled bitterly, looking back at you, “Stop lying to yourself, Y/N, this is not happiness. I only hurt everyone. I hurt you.”

“I don’t mind,” you protested quietly, knowing that he was, in fact, right.

"That's the problem. You tell me it's not there, but I know you still have hope in your heart that I will change," he said, pointing his finger at your heart, his tone filled with disappointment. "I'm just not capable of loving anymore. It's too difficult for me. I can't love you like that," he continued, his words heavy with the weight of his own struggle.

You stared back at him in silence, tears burning your eyes. Tsu’tey felt his own heart clench at the way your bottom lip quivered, clearly struggling to remain your composure, and soon enough the tears started to spill over and trace wet paths down your cheeks. He felt cruel for the pain he had caused you time and time again, knowing that he had shattered the world the two of you had created to escape to. Throughout all of this you always remained so strong, so resilient, he hated himself for taking it away from you. His body reacted before his mind could follow, arms pulling you back into his chest and wrapping tightly around yours. You had already given up, crying quietly into his embrace. The exhaustion began to take over and you slowly dozed off in his arms.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

The faint murmur of voices outside stirred you from your sleep early in the morning. You found yourself alone, with Tsu’tey's scent still lingering in the air. Realizing it was the morning of the exile, you rushed outside to see what was happening. Fya’at, one of the usually friendly healers, spotted you immediately and pulled you towards the gathering crowd. The clan had divided itself into two groups, leaving a path in the middle for the three exiled Na’vi to walk through.

Artsut and Ateyo looked furious, their expressions reflecting nothing but anger. But Arvok clearly felt ashamed, his shoulders slumped and head hanging low as he trudged behind his parents. Then you saw him. Tsu’tey stood tall, wearing his Olo’eyktan headpiece, his eyes glassy as he watched his family leave forever. And while to others he appeared to be stoic to it, you could read the pain in his eyes, the agony of watching his own family be exiled from the clan. He was once again losing another piece of his happiness that now seemed too far away to chase after.

When Arvok passed by where you were standing, you couldn’t resist but step out of the crowd to grab him by the wrist. Both Arvok and the clan shot you surprised looks, but you ignored them.

“Be good, Arvok,” you whispered to him, “It will be hard to disobey your parents but from now on try to listen only to your own heart. May Eywa guide you.”

Arvok nodded, appreciating the single act of kindness he received in the past few weeks. He was slightly surprised by the fact that it was coming from you, since the two of you weren’t close, but he still felt grateful for the gesture. Fya’at tugged at your arm, forcing you to step back into your spot.

“What are you doing talking to a traitor?” she whispered through gritted teeth.

"He's not a traitor," you defended Arvok, earning curious glances from around you. "He just made a bad decision."

Fya’at fell quiet, not wishing to continue the argument, but still watching you. When you felt a pair of green eyes piercing through you from the other end of the crowd, you turned to meet them. Tsu’tey gave you a small, fleeting look of gratitude. He couldn’t openly encourage his little brother to pursue better choices, so he appreciated that you did what he wanted to do. Fya’at did not fail to catch the strange interaction between you and the Olo’eyktan.

As the warriors trailed the family to ensure their departure from the forest, the crowd began to disperse slowly. You remained rooted to your spot, lost in thought. Was Arvok going to be safe? Fya'at lingered by your side, deep in her own conspiracies. She wrinkled her nose at an unfamiliar scent wafting around her, and turned to you with a curious expression, sniffing around you before blinking several times in bewilderment.

“Your scent… it’s changed,” she pointed out.

You chuckled in disbelief, praying to Eywa that she wouldn't recognize the scent of Tsu'tey on you. With the chaos of the morning, you hadn’t had a chance to wash it off you.

“What are you talking about? I smell like myself.”

“No, you smell like another man,” Fya'at disagreed, leaning in closer to sniff again.

Quickly, you took a step back and shook your head, trying your best to convince her of your innocence. Fya’at straightened out, her eyes widened in shock at the realization.

“You smell of Tsu’tey!” she accused loudly, catching the attention of a few Na’vi around you.

“What?” your mouth fell open at that.

Her accusation hit you like a sudden gust of wind, knocking the air out of you. How could she possibly smell him on you? Your mind raced with excuses and explanations, but every answer you came up with didn’t seem convincing enough to voice out loud. You shook your head violently.

“Is there something going on between you two?” she asked, quirking her eyebrow.

“No, no, no, there’s nothing between us,” you tried desperately to sound sincere.

“I don’t know… there were rumors about you liking Tsu’tey, now you suddenly start to smell of him? And they way you were just talking to Arvok like he did not betray the whole clan,” Fya’at crossed her arms on her chest, voice laced with suspicion.

You pressed your lips together, racking your brain for a plausible explanation. Fya'at had a talent for cracking secrets, and as a healer, she was particularly attuned to when something seemed fishy.

“Listen, Fya'at, you're blowing things out of proportion,” you began, your tone even as you tried to keep your composure, “Arvok and I have known each other since we were children. I couldn't just stand by and let him be exiled without saying something. And as for Tsu'tey… I only spoke with him briefly last night. Maybe I picked up his scent because we were sitting close, I don't know.”

“Hmm,” she narrowed her eyes. You knew that the lie was stupid, not convincing enough to persuade her, “Some day the truth will come out, Y/N. Eywa knows.”

Fya'at disappeared into the distance, leaving you behind. You let out a deep breath of relief, feeling the tension in your shoulders release. You knew that she wasn't entirely convinced by your explanation but was willing to let the matter rest. And that was enough.

You shook your head, to clear your thoughts, and quickly made your way to the river to wash off the scent of Tsu'tey. As the cool water flowed over your skin, you thought back to the conversation with Tsu’tey and the way you let your walls crumble, as you broke down in front of him. You wondered if he would still see you after everything he said.

On your way back to the Home Tree, you stopped by the Tsahik’s hut to check on Jake. He looked well rested, already munching on a meat wrap, Neytiri watching him with an adoring look. You felt a pang of jealousy at the mutual connection they shared.

“Look who’s back,” you greeted them, bowing slightly deeper to Mo’at, who stood in the corner.

“I feel like I have been out for 2 years,” Jake joked.

Mo’at shushed him, turning her harsh gaze to you.

“Don’t talk to him, he won’t stop once you get him talking,” she moved closer to you, taking the bundle of herbs from your hands, “Are those for him?”

You nodded, offering a small smile as Mo'at patted your upper arm in appreciation. Jake watched the exchange with curiosity, realizing that despite your involvement in his healing, you had never really spoken to him. You leaned against the wall, observing as Mo'at deftly began to separate the leaves from the herbs you had brought.

“Can I help you, Tsahik?” you offered but she dismissed you with a swat of her hand.

“You did enough for him. Toruk Makto or not, he is still acting like a careless child,” she mumbled under her nose, irritated.

Neytiri eagerly nodded her head in agreement, to which Jake only rolled his eyes, shooting you a playful grin. Feeling a sudden urge to defend Jake, you spoke up.

"I mean no disrespect, Tsahik, but Toruk Makto wasn't at fault. If he hadn't caught the knife with his hand, he could have been in a worse state.”

Jake's grateful expression was not lost on you as he mouthed a thank you. Neytiri swatted his chest with annoyance, reminding you so much of her mother in that moment.

"He should have called for me. I would have dragged that kid by his ear and then taken a swat at his mother," Mo’at added with a low hiss.

Neytiri and you struggled to muffle a chuckle at her words. It was known in the village that there was some sort of bad history between Artsut and Mo’at. They had never liked one another and even had gotten into arguments when Tsu’tey first started to court Silwanin. It was only after they realized the seriousness of their relationships, that the two mothers decided to remain civil. Jake looked confused by your reaction, waiting for an explanation.

“I will tell you later,” Neytiri promised quietly to him.

The moment was interrupted when Tsu’tey walked into the hut, throwing you a harsh look. Immediately, you stood taller, watching him approach Jake.

“Brother,” he said, “I am happy to see that you’re stronger now.”

“I am,” Jake confirmed, “Thank you for standing by me, Tsu’tey, I appreciate it.” "I only did what any honest chief would do," Tsu'tey replied matter-of-factly.

“Still, thank you.”

Jake gave him a small empathetic smile. He understood that despite being committed to following the rules, Tsu'tey was still on his side no matter what. Neytiri too watched their interaction with a saddened smile. She knew that there was a heavy weight on Tsu’tey’s shoulders, suffocating him, and she often felt guilty for leaving him to lead the clan by himself. But she’d rather lose everything than lose Jake.

Suddenly, Tsu’tey turned his attention back to you with a feigned angry expression, shifting the air in the hut. It was almost like he was putting on a show for the others, the way his chest puffed out and he walked up to you with a confident step.

“You should not have addressed an exiled clan member like that in front of your chief,” he snarled at you.

“I am sorry,” you replied softly, lowering your ears to play along. Tsu’tey felt like he needed to reestablish himself in the eyes of the people after what you pulled. Any Olo’eyktan would have. What you did was unacceptable, and you knew that very well.

Tsu’tey hissed at you with another angry glare, his eyes flashing with frustration, and looked around the small hut to ensure that all eyes were on him. He muttered something inaudible under his breath before storming out of the room, his footsteps echoing loudly in the enclosed space. You could have sworn that you caught a faint whisper of "thank you" from him just before he disappeared out of sight.

You breathed out, once the act was over, and Jake shot you an apologetic look. He wasn’t sure how bad was what you did but it was clear to Jake that you pissed off Tsu’tey greatly to scold you in front of the Tsahik.

“Hey, don’t take that to heart, he is just stressed,” Jake whispered reassuringly.

“I know, I am not upset,” you answered sincerely. Tsu’tey didn’t mean to hurt you, you knew that much.

“It is not the stress, there is another reason,” Mo’at spoke mysteriously, not lifting her eyes from the task at hand.

“What reason?” Jake prodded.

Neytiri shot a knowing look at her mother, as if there was an unspoken understanding between them. You and Jake, on the other hand, were utterly confused by the hints Mo’at was trying to give you.

“He sees Y/N as a future mate,” Mo’at revealed, lifting her head, “He wants her to do better to make sure that she is a respectable mate to stand by the Olo’eyktan’s side.” “W-what?” you stuttered, “I am sorry, but that is not true, Tsahik.” “Yeah, whatever that was, I don’t think Tsu’tey even wants a mate now,” Jake chimed in with a small chuckle.

He looked to Neytiri for support but she only shook her head in disagreement.

“He has been acting differently recently. Maybe he had changed his way of thinking,” she suggested. You blinked rapidly in bewilderment.

“You have to be patient, my child,” Mo’at offered you a small smile, “He will find his way to you eventually.”

You gulped down, feeling a mix of nervousness and confusion. You excused yourself from the conversation to leave, before Mo’at called out to you with a final offer.

“Starting today you must come for lessons every evening. That is, if you want to become a worthy healer.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

chapter 4

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

taglist (lmk if you want to be added or removed): @mechformers @xx-mayday-martyr-xx @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @fanboyluvr @live-laugh-neteyam @adaiasafira @cawi00 @sovereignsylvia @wifey02 @jakescumdump @vxncxntt @theseuscmander @avatarbyamara @vviviivvivivivvivivivi @aracelikara @brooklynscherry-z @teyums @bestwlwmonster @totesnothere04 @n7cje @suntizme @simplefools @weasleytwinwheezes @lovefromjazzy @neteyamslovrr @crustskullz @vane28282 @youngbananamilkshake @elissanatok @itszmedawn @perplexing-vex @zoetrope1997 @yeosxxx @kurogxrix @sakura-onesan

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echantedtoon · 1 month

Text

Quite A Handful

Sometimes it was a handful to have so many husbands.

(This is inspired by @starrcityyy's Hantengu Wife Y/n art. (Warnings: Their blog does contain NSFW elements and themes that not everyone may like or be comfortable with. Just a heads up. But this WILL STAY Sfw.) I did ask if they were fine with someone writing drabbles inspired by their au before writing this, and they mentioned that they were fine. This is probably not gonna be very long and it's from the perspective of a female reader.

Wife Y/n Concept- @starrcityyy

Demon Slayer- Koyoharu Gotouge

Warning: Karaku IS his own warning. Possibly some innuendos. Mentioned killing.)

The thunderstorm I'm the distance between the roof and sky haunted the eardrums as the storm drew ever closer in the darkness.

There truly was nothing but the warmth of the small fireplace within the cozy small house in the middle of the woods. A cozy small hideaway nobody knew but you and a select few individuals. It would shield you well from the harsh elements and keep you safe and sound from the outside. It was your own little safe haven. Just yourself to worry about now.

The bubbling pot of soup on the stove wafted in waves making even the most stuffed person desire to eat it as you smelt it. A hum of satisfaction left your throat as you nodded and took your hand off the soup ladder after stirring it a few times. This would surely last you a few days. Cooking enough food to last you a few days was always good. Having leftovers only meant you didn't have to cook over a hot stove for a good while. It left you time to focus on other things. Speaking of other things- F/c eyes turned to the door as thunder drew ever closer and closer judging by the sounds in the distance. Now where are they?

They usually weren't this late.

It was sort of a pattern by now. Usually the first one to show up would be the most skittish one after he runs away from whatever danger scared him. Cowering by your legs and hugging you for comfort. Then depending on how hard the task was, the other four would follow right after either sooner or later. Like said it depended on how hard her husband's work was that day. You supposed tonight would be a hard working day. Until then you busied yourself by picking up a broom to start sweeping up the floor. The faint sounds of broom bristles scraping on the floor added to the crackling fire and the distant thunder. Perhaps that's why-

You didn't hear anything when the door opened.

You didn't see the demon crawling it's way inside scuttling like an insect.

Didn't sense the figure looking behind you until deadly claws wrapped around your form.

"Hi. You're home late," you casuay said not bothering to look up at the form trembling as it clutched onto your kimono. "What happened to you this time?"

"Not my fault! N-Not my fault! The hands that had killed them were not mine!", a voice sobbed and croaked out between cries.

Yep. Seemed about right.

"Are you hungry? Or did you already eat out tonight?"

"*Hic* I didn't do iiiiiiitttt!!"

"You already ate then. Good to know."

By now you could already interpret what he meant by his rambles. Wasn't always easy though especially when he had the tendency to go on for ages. An insistent series of weak shaking tugs told you all you needed to know about what he wanted. Without batting an eye, the broom was placed to the side and she assumed the position of turning around and doing the familiar process of hugging the sobbing demon closer to her while he sobbed into the folds of her dress. Make no mistakes. He had the outward visage of a weak old man but he was far from weakly.

"Shh. Shh. There, there now. You're ok. Nothing's going to hurt you. You're alright." Her hand soothingly patted over his back and head being mindful of his horns.

"Monsters. Monsters! All of them! Putting blame on me when it wasn't my.." his voice dissolved into muffled sobs and whimpering in the fabric of hee dress she could barely make out.

It times like this it would be a while before he was able to pull himself together and this time would be no exception. You spent the better half of an hour just calming him. He had completely almost calmed down when again the door was opened but with much more force. The door frame rattled from the five of the door sliding open and the sound echoed throughout the room. The loud sound had him squealing in fright again and scrambling to hide behind her legs gripping onto the fabric of her dress.

"HONEY, I'M HOME!~"

"Shut UP, Karaku! My head is killing me!"

"It's not my fault you let yourself get hit by that boulder.~"

"YOU'RE THE ONE THAT BLEW IT TOWARDS ME YOU ABSOLUTE IMBECILE!!"

"Then next time don't stand in my way ~"

"WHY YOU STUPID-!!"

"That's enough both of you. Your fighting is making me sad."

Footsteps approached and by the screams she could already tell who else had shown up. One. Two. Three. AAAnd four more demons dangerous and strong. One holding his head annoyed and scowling. Two looking amused by his anger and smiling. And one last one looking a mixture of 'over this' and slightly worried.

"Hi, honey." You smiled at them. "How was work?"

"Miserabl. G." Your husband rubbing his annoyed temples didn't even look up.

"AW. Sekido's just upset because he got a boo boo.~ Big deal.~" Said green eyed husband rolled his eyes when his angrier counterpart shot him a dirty look, but soon put all his focus into giving her a wolfish grin. "But enough about him.~ What's our cute little wifey been up to?~"

"Cleaning. Are you all hungry? I made dinner."

"Nah. We ate before we got here." Another arm wrapped around her and pulled her against a fluffier wing in contrast to his sharp claws that pulled her against him. "But it's so cute seeing you all domestic. Makes me just wanna gobble you up!"

"Let's not eat her. That'll just make all of us sad."

"Aizetsu. I-...I was just joking. Y'know?" Your blue eyes husband just stared. "You know. Like a joke I did just for fun. ...You did know that right?'

".... I'm going to be keeping a very close eye on you from now on."

"Aizetsu, Im serious! It was just a joke. I wouldn't really eat her!"

The veins on Sekido's forehead got bigger than before as Aizetsu stared down a now slightly intimidated harpy demon and Karaku laughed at all three of them. Meanwhile the trembling demon behind you finally let go of your dress in favor of hiding his face in them but still his behind you. Your head tilted in concern at Sekido. Out of all five of them, he seemed to be the only one in genuine pain.

"Well enough of pleasantries.~" Karaku smoothed his bangs to the side before pressing an arm on the wall above your head and giving a bigger smirk. "I've missed this pretty thing.~ How about you and me-"

He fell silent as you suddenly ducked under his arm and out of Urogi's grip. Hantengu squealed as his makeshift shield was removed and all watched as you ignored all of them in favor of grabbing Sekido's head and pulling the lightly surprised man towards you.

"You look worse for wear. Are you alright, Honey?"

Sekido blinked before scowling."Peachy. Karaku blew a dam boulder at me! My head is KILLING me."

You cooed before pulling his head lower to cradle it much to the disgruntled others' dismay. "There, there. Poor baby. Come on. I'll get you some pain medicine and have you lie down."

"I don't need to be coddled!.....But this is fine I guess."

"Do you want me to stay with you until you feel better?"

Sekido paused.. before looking at the others and giving a rare triumphant smirk that earnt him jealous frowns.

"Yes. I'm going to need a LOT of care."

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puppy-steve · 2 months

Text

february fic rec

a monthly fic rec series where i try to read every fic on my tbr

▸ january fic rec ▸ more fic recs

steve has nightmares - M, 2.3k, complete @hitlikehammers

tags: established relationship, panic attacks, 54321 grounding method

It’s not like the nightmares are, y’know: something new. What’s new is the way he wakes up from them. It’s still a gasping thing, with his heart shot up past the base of his throat more near his tonsils or some shit, somewhere he can almost taste it like metal and the sour tang of fear as it rattles and shakes and pounds, like his chest’s caving in on itself and that’s all normal, that’s all stuff he knows and— “-ve you,” but now there’s a sound on the periphery of his awareness, sneaking in the almost-nonexistent space between his hammering pulse but he grabs for it, because something in him knows it’s important: the most important. He follows it in between the beating, risks getting crushed if he fails here, too, and— “Love you,” Steve hears more clearly, all of a sudden, and he feels hands on him, running smooth and swift courses up and down his arms; then he also feels lips, he can feel the words as motion against his body almost more than he can pick out the sound: “love you, love you, love you,” and now he knows it, now that his vision clears as it adjusts to the darkness and he sees him: Eddie. - Or: Steve has nightmares. Eddie talks him through.

Stolen - T, 2.7k, complete @penny00dreadful

tags: secret relationship, hospital heist, protective steve harrington

When Steve arrives back at Eddie's hospital room, only to be met by a doctor telling him that Eddie had suddenly died within the last ten minutes, Steve finds that very hard to believe. OR Steve steals Eddie back.

eternity - T, 2k, complete @oh-stars

tags: love confessions, fluff

“I need to come over tonight,” he whispers to Robin. “Eddie wants to talk.” “Oh,” Robin says, cupping the back of Steve’s head briefly. “I’ll have all your favorites ready for you when you get to my house.” Steve doesn’t have to say anything or force a smile. She gets it.

Love Is What Makes You Brave - G, 3.1k, complete @penny00dreadful

tags: break-up/make-up, getting back together, exes to lovers, hurt/comfort

Should he be here? No. Was he going to continue to be here for as long as he could take it? Hell yeah. OR Eddie found out Steve is getting married. And now he's idling in the church car park.

Safe Haven - M, 2/2, complete @sidekick-hero

tags: werewolf steve, hurt/comfort, getting together

Eddie finds a hurt wolf in the woods and takes him home. He has no idea that there is more to this particular wolf than it seems.

In Sickness and Health - G, complete @steviewashere

tags: established relationship, older steddie, hurt/comfort, discussions of seizures

Eddie has learned to revel in quiet afternoons, even when he’s alone. The way the sunshine bathes the apartment’s living room carpet—his and Steve’s apartment. Their cat, Poncho, settled heavy and warm in his lap. A chilled glass of southern iced tea and a plate of crackers and sliced cheese. The television volume on low. Book open and set on the arm of the couch. It’s good, the quiet. Yet, it breaks the moment the front door opens. He didn’t hear Steve stick his key in the lock. But he definitely hears his annoyed groans and huffs. The slam of the door, most likely shut with his hip. A muffled, “Damnit”, when he drops his keyring on the floor.

City of Stars (Are You Shining Just For Me?) - T, complete @steviewashere

tags: coming out, love confessions, hurt/comfort

Steve and Eddie’s hang outs tend to land them on their asses at one another’s houses. But tonight, the sky is clear and the moon is out and everything seems to be painted by the soft glow of stars. Because Steve’s parents are home. And Wayne’s got the day off, so he’s asleep early in the living room at the Munson’s. Neither of that will stop them, though. Steve picks Eddie up thirty minutes before the sun has to set, a little Melvald’s bag in the backseat filled with food and a soft throw blanket.

Perfect Timing - G, complete @steviewashere

tags: established relationship, domestic fluff, future fic

It’s funny, Steve thinks, that he knows the way in which Eddie’s emotions express when he comes through the front door of their shared space. They began renting an apartment in Chicago just a year or so after getting together. Tail end of 1986 meant sharing a bed and house by August of 1987. And it’s theirs. Filled with miscellaneous clutter—a bookshelf brimmed with books, coffee table layered with Sports Illustrated and Heavy Metal magazines, dice and keys and Topps baseball cards, and picture frames they dust and drawings from Eddie’s sketchbooks and ‘failed’ art projects of Steve’s that Eddie thought were masterpieces. Point is, they’ve made it their home. And they started their lives with a breath of fresh air. And now it’s 1995, depending on one another’s reactions, this all may just crumble at their feet.

feel the bigger thing - T, complete @hitlikehammers

tags: established relationship, married steddie, domestic fluff, rockstar eddie

“We don’t need a second house,” Steve points out, smooshed against Eddie’s sternum. “We can get the pool,” Eddie added with the audible equivalent of his brow-wiggle and okay, fine, that’s a good point, because Steve may not have really used the one at his parents’ after, well, everything, but he…does kinda miss having one. Now that the memories are distant enough in both time and miles that he doesn’t see standing water deeper than four feet and start fucking hyperventilating anymore. So…yeah. Compelling argument regarding a pool.

fever - E, 3.8k, complete @maxinemaxmayfield

tags: transmasc eddie, first time, virgin eddie, strap-ons, top eddie, bottom steve

“Shit,” Eddie groans, teeth pressing into his bottom lip. His hips buck up, and his imagination runs away with that, thinking about Steve, balancing over Eddie’s hips, riding him as hard and fast as he can manage, delicious thighs shaking while Eddie thrusts up into him. God, he wants it more than anything. There’s just one problem. Eddie currently lacks the, uh… Equipment.

so glad i found you - T, 1.4k, complete @steddieas-shegoes

tags: established relationship, steddie dads, modern au

Eddie blinked at Steve, lips parted as he tried to remember how to breathe. He’d been with Steve for just over a year, and while he didn’t technically live with them, he spent more time at their apartment than his own. He was on Sarah’s emergency pick-up list, took her with him to run errands when Steve had to work late, bought her things when the budget allowed just because he wanted to, and would read to her most nights that he stayed over. In many ways, he was her dad.

An Extra Hand - E, 5.2k, complete proprioception

tags: blow jobs, dick piercings, smoke buddies, steve being a slut for eddie's dick

"You have a dick piercing?" Steve finally sputters. "Oh," Eddie says. "Yeah." Steve thinks he recovers pretty quickly from that. (That's the only thing he has going for him in Hawkins: he gets back up.)

take the call - T, complete @hitlikehammers

tags: established relationship, married steddie, rockstar eddie, future fic

“Eddie?” He rolls his eyes kinda automatically, kinda thoughtlessly at the cut of the audio track to let the mic system override from outside the booth. “Okay, so, like, don’t freak out.” “This lady called, and she said she found Lainie’s card inside the case of a phone she picked up,” and okay, okay, that’s…that’s random but maybe it’s about their assistance manger, who just got her contract confirmed and got fancy new business cards for it and has been handing them out to everybody she sees, even gave Eddie extras to pass on to Steve, maybe he can share them at the school as if anyone at even a hoity-toity private 6-through-12 school would have a reason for a card from a record label but she’s excited, and Eddie’s excited for her, and Steve loves the people Eddie works with, and not just because they’re attached to Eddie and he loves the things that come with Eddie as a given—but that’s also true, and always has been, but— “She found the phone at a car crash?” So: the more-to-it. The thing his body already knew. Eddie…Eddie doesn’t even need to know what comes next to know he cannot fucking breathe.

Angel - E, complete @steviewashere

tags: established relationship, hurt/comfort, insecurities, handjobs

His eyes track different spots in the room. The lines on the wall. Bowling pin. Car picture. Dresser with the drawers haphazardly still open. Eddie saunters over and gently closes them, even stops by Steve’s hamper and picks up the other thrown down clothes. And then he notices it out of the corner of his eye, Steve’s full length mirror. It breaks his heart. The sheet covering what would be his reflection. And on the top right corner? A little sticky note, reading: You’ll hate what you see. Everybody does. Don’t remove.

Dream Come True - G, complete @steviewashere

tags: married steddie, future fic, steddie dads

He may have got the quiet life. And Eddie may have lived out his simple dream. He’d been a rockstar for a little bit in the late nineties and early two-thousands, retiring before they got married. But…Steve hasn’t lived his dream. Eddie hates that he thinks it’s being held back from him. Eddie’s determined to heal that hurt inside him.

Have You Done Your Homework? - E, 7/7, complete SameShipDifferentFont

tags: first time bottoming, daddy kink, bottom steve, virgin steve, sex toys

“I…I want to.” Steve admitted. “You want to?” “I-Yeah, I do, I just…I don’t know how.” he flushed furiously, snatching his hand away to rest at Eddie’s open inner thigh. Eddie caught his ducking head before he could hide against his shoulder, smiling softly as Steve met his eyes in embarrassment, but Eddie looked mischievous. “Just treat it like a pussy, baby, can’t go far wrong.” Or...Famous ladies man, Steve Harrington, is reduced to a blushing virgin when it comes to sex with Eddie. He struggles with the anxiety of trying something new, but Eddie is patient, and gives him...assignments. Steve explores his own body, learns what he likes, ways he can please Eddie, until he can attempt his main goal...giving his virginity to Eddie Munson. If he has the nerve to go through with it.

Honey and Tea. - E, 5.7k, complete daggerandrosie

tags: omegaverse, accidental voyeurism, masturbation, omega steve, alpha eddie

It was all just a innocent silly joke, nothing much, Steve just wanted a good easy laugh. It was late, dark and silent at the trailer park, no one in sight and Eddie's nightstand light was on. Steve would just pop he's head up the window and, hopefully, scare the shit out of his friend. But he's the one that ended up being spooked. Maybe you shouldn't be peeping through people's privacy after dark.

fallen king - T, complete @sp0o0kylights

tags: post s2, pre steddie, eddie munson's tabletop sermons, valentines day

With a startling amount of clarity, Steve realized he was done. With his so called friends, with the girls who’d tried corning him all morning, with Hargrove and just--everything. He was over it. If Billy wanted the crown so bad he could fucking have it. (If Tommy wanted to pretend he was tougher than he was by mimicking the dick, then he could have that too.) “This is stupid.” Steve announced, dropping the masks he so carefully wore. The ones he kept having to fix, because the Upside Down and its related demons (human and non) kept taking chunks out of it.

soothed - G, complete @steviewashere

tags: injury, hurt/comfort, pre steddie, protective steve

Steve moves to drag Eddie inside, but drops his hands when Eddie flinches away, nearly stumbling down to the concrete. He lets go of his elbows, which are now decorated with fine small crescents, and shields himself. There’s a couple smaller, red bruises decorating his wrists. As if somebody grabbed him. Steve fumes at the sight. “Eddie,” Steve breathes, “why don’t you come inside?” He steps away from the door, letting it sit open and waiting. On shuffled, hesitant feet, Eddie comes in. His eyes dart around the room before they land back on Steve. Immediately, some of the tension and fear in his big brown eyes falls away. Instead, a layer of relief and gratitude seems to fill him. Enough that his eyes brim with tears. “Oh, Eds,” Steve can only coo.

pretty pets once were wild - E, 5k, complete kravioli

tags: werewolf steve, vampire eddie, monsterfucking, sub top steve, dom bottom eddie, puppy play, breeding kink

The annual Munson ball has been a celebration of all monsterkind living in Hawkins for nearly 600 years. When Steve is dragged along to this year’s celebration during the full moon, he gets a lot more than he signed up for. or werewolf!steve and vampire!eddie’s mating

i'm keeping you in sight - T, 2.2k, complete teiresias

tags: fluff, pining, taller eddie, getting together

When there’s no immediate reply, he pauses for a moment, seemingly taking in the situation. “D’you want help with that, Stevie?” -- Eddie has the gall to get taller.

The Boy Who Swallowed a Star - M, 9.9k, complete @hitlikehammers

tags: howl's moving castle au, getting together, hurt/comfort, domestic fluff, platonic stobin, robin as calcifer (bc that deserves its own tag)

The Wizard Munson is supposed to inspire fear and awe. A trickster, a devil, a power unmatched. Blah blah blah; Steve only sees the gangly boy who almost fell off the roof of the Harrington’s tailoring shop, trying and failing to be stealthy and mysterious when Steve was not yet ten—so where whispers follow down alleyways about the dreaded terrors of the Wizard? Steve really just sees the goofball. His Eddie. “Come with me, Stevie,” Eddie doesn’t even pause for pleading, dives right in and begs him as if Steve needs convincing; "if nothing else, come with me so I know you’re safe, so I can do what needs doing without splitting half of me always just worrying. Save me from scrying out endlessly, to make sure you’re okay.” Steve’s heart thumps painful, pathetic: pure and unvarnished in a way he thinks is only possible when Eddie’s nearby. Only possible for Eddie, at all. Which means the answer’s wholly obvious—the war’s getting worse, this is his Eddie—only one response was ever really on the table: “Alright.”

crawl home to you - E, 5.2k, complete @steddieas-shegoes

tags: temporary character death, kas eddie, vampire eddie, soulmates, getting together, blood drinking

Steve should never have kissed him. He knew that now. While Eddie was dying, bleeding out on the ground of their version of Hell, the only thing Steve felt he could do to help him was kiss him. It was quick, just a peck on the lips, lingering only for a moment. Their eyes never even closed. Steve wanted to take in every remaining moment that Eddie had. There was nothing else he could do, just hold him, try to whisper comfort that may not have even been heard.

it's not ever what it looks like - M, 3.2k, complete @steddieas-shegoes

tags: modern au, rockstar eddie, established relationship, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, implied/suspected cheating (nobody is actually cheating on anybody don't worry)

There was a picture of Eddie standing with his arm around some guy who was taller than him, both of them laughing, looking at each other like…well. Steve knew that look because it’d only ever been pointed at him, but now he was seeing it pointed at just some guy. The headline read EDDIE MUNSON GIVING UP HIGH SCHOOL SWEETHEART FOR SUPERMODEL SUPERSTAR?

Feels Good (Oh To Be Alone With You) - E, 1.3k, complete @theheadlessphilosopher | th3d3adboy

tags: transmasc eddie, cock warming, light dom/sub, cunnilingus, handjobs

Steve had never felt the way he did when he and Eddie were together. He'd always considered himself a pretty experienced guy, sexually speaking, but with Eddie things were different.

if devotion is a river, then i'm floating away - E, 6.4k, complete @starryeyedjanai

tags: post-s4, getting together, drummer steve, corroded coffin, semi-public sex

“So when you said someone was paying you to get lessons for the past six months, you weren't talking about some middle schooler interested in doing marching band?” Eddie asks, slamming the fridge door harder than necessary. Sorry, Gareth’s mom. “Nope,” Gareth says, popping the ‘p’ sound. “You’re pure evil,” he says. “Why is Gareth evil and why is Steve Harrington in the garage?” Jeff asks, coming into the kitchen. or, Eddie has feelings about Steve filling in as their drummer

i'm a man (without conviction) - T, 2.1k, complete lateralparallel

tags: hopper pov, established steddie, protective hopper, character study, eddie antagonizes hopper on purpose

Steve Harrington is not his kid. Hopper already has three, and he’s not looking to add any more. He’s sure of this fact about ninety nine percent of the time, the remaining one percent being when he’s faced by Harrington’s big, clear eyes and his perpetually quivering laugh. Hopper is not a great dad. He knows this, and he knows he should remember this, but Steve Harrington has a way of making him think highly of himself in the paternal department.

Drunk Dialing - E, series, WIP FinalMoondragon

tags: drunk bootycall, phone sex, light dom/sub, bratty steve, semi-public masturbation

Steve was drunk. Very drunk. He knew it. Robin definitely knew it. That’s why she was sitting on his back, pinning him to the floor, trying to pry his hands out from under his body. Her pajama pants were bunched up around her knees, her sock clad foot near his face. “Steve! Give-It-To-Me!” she said through gritted teeth. Or: Steve Harrington has a brilliant idea and Robin fails at stopping him.

cassette tapes and ticket stubs. - M, 5.2k, complete @thefreakandthehair | througheden

tags: modern au, mutual pining, fluff, coffee shops, record stores, baseball fan steve, getting together, accidental dates

“Well, you said you’re 90% sure you’re getting stood up. And I’m 100% sure that I’ve already been stood up. I know baseball isn’t really your thing but,” Steve wiggles the tickets between his fingers. “Road-rip?” “One condition,” Eddie says, pursing his lips. “I’m giving you a free ticket and day in Chicago but sure, let’s negotiate,” Steve teases. Grabbing his empty cup, Steve follows his lead as he tosses it in the trash. Eddie spins back around, heart clattering in his chest as he comes almost literally face to face with Steve who’s close enough that Eddie can smell the cologne he’d dabbed on for his date. Warm, spicy, Steve’s signature scent. Eddie hates that he knows that. When he finds his tongue again, he shakes his head and smiles, signing his own fucking death warrant for the day. “If we’re doing your date, we’ve gotta do mine, too.” Or, Eddie and Steve are set up on blind dates by Robin and Chrissy. They both get stood up. Or, do they?

wednesdays - G, complete @steddiealltheway

tags: rockstar eddie, pining, fluff, getting together

Steve stops in his tracks, all thoughts gone from his head as he does a double take at the magazine rack near the checkout. And yeah, he knows that Corroded Coffin is popular. Hell, he’s seen Eddie’s face on the same rack at least five times before. But never like this. The picture on the front page is taken at a lower angle, with Eddie clad in leather pants and a tight mesh black shirt that might be a crop top, but Steve can’t tell with the way Eddie’s guitar is covering his midriff, hands flying over the frets, showing off silver rings glimmering under the stage lights including the one that Steve helped Dustin pick out for him as a celebratory gift. But as Steve’s eyes trace over Eddie’s bare arms and the stark black tattoos, he’s led to wild curls perfectly framing Eddie’s face which stares down at the cords, mouth parted in an ‘o’ shape and eyebrows knitted together in concentration in a way that makes Steve feel weak in the knees. And Steve’s suddenly hit with the question: Why didn’t anyone tell him that Eddie was hot???

to die by your side (is such a heavenly way to die) - T, complete @hitlikehammers

tags: limbo/near death experiences, light angst, they're in el's mind palace, getting together, fluff, happy ending

“Oh fuck, not you, too.” Steve looks up—when did he sit down, he doesn’t remember sitting down, he doesn’t remember how even got here, and hey, actually, where is here— “What?” Steve looks toward the voice; familiar. See the wreath of curls around a pale face. “This is death, right?” Eddie’s crossing over to him, crouching just beside; “I’m dead, like, I am very sure I’m dead, but you’re here, so—“ “I don’t,” Steve breathes in sharp—tries to get his bearings, tries to see but it’s just black in every direction, his lungs feel like they’re halved in size all of sudden, everything feels tight and painful and hard like inhaling isn’t something guaranteed, and his heartbeat feels like it’s dragging the carcass of something with it when it pumps, laborious and— He’s is breathing, though, even if it’s kinda half-assed; he’s got a heartbeat, even if it feels like it’s about to fucking give out. That doesn’t…that doesn’t sound like death.

if devotion is a river, then i'm floating away - E, 6.4k, complete @starryeyedjanai

tags: drummer steve, post-s4, corroded coffin, getting together, handjobs, blowjobs

Tearing the Buttons Right off Your Dress - E, 5k, complete @solarmorrigan

tags: babygirl steve, roleplay, steve in panties and lingerie, established relationship

After spending the day celebrating with friends, Steve has one final birthday gift for Eddie Eddie's pretty sure this just became his favorite birthday ever

#cj talks #steddie #fic rec #steddie fic rec #steddie fic

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lanitalay · 2 months

Text

One Day : Chapter 5

Azriel x reader, based on the Netflix series by the same name

a/n: I haven't forgotten about AFAS but this one is so comforting to write. Also a master post for this series sis on my todo list I just haven;t gotten around to it.

warnings: canon typical mentions of violence, a lil fluff

Word count: 1.6k

Masterlist

You were sitting beside Elain as you had done every morning since the Archeron sisters had arrived at the Night Court. She was no better than yesterday or the day before that. She ate very little and she was almost fighting against breathing. You had never seen anything like it, her body perfectly healthy but her mind… you imagined she was filled with rage and sorrow and grief for her past life. Not that she gave you much of an indication.

Being with Elain was calming in a way, she didn’t move much. You encouraged her to change positions every so often so her muscles wouldn’t atrophy but that was it. Sometimes you thought that your friends assigned you to her because of how Azriel arrived from Hybern. How he was seconds away from death. How you could only say “but I just got you back” over and over as you and Madja worked on his wounds. How you didn’t sleep for days until his eyes opened. How flashes of his too pale skin would cause you to crumble because he looked like a corpse and if Azriel was gone…

So you painted Elain’s nails, braided her hair and told her stories of Feyre when she first arrived at the Night Court. You reassured her that she would be back soon and that the three sisters would be safe in Velaris.

Your favorite story to tell her was of how her sister freed the fae from Amarantha’s reign. How, because of her blood and kin, peace was within grasp. You told her how it felt when Amarantha died and magic returned and the sky at the Dawn Court glittered with the colors of the rainbow. How Thesan arrived at his palace and told everyone in his court of the brave girl who saved them. You told her that you had basically given up hope because if salvation lay in someone falling in love with Tamlin...

“I only saw him once or twice during the reign but he was the most un-charismatic male I have ever met, we’re lucky Feyre has such a beautiful heart.”

You didn’t tell her that when you returned to your cottage after the announcement and the initial euphoria there was a tall male with giant wings standing at your door. His head turning the instant a shadow told him you had arrived.

“I thought maybe you moved.”

You couldn’t tell her that you ran and wrapped your arms around him. The last fifty years had been an ocean and, just then, you finally found your lifeline. He hugged your shoulders, bringing his head to the crook of your neck and breathed in your unchanging scent.

After minutes of the embrace that put your heart back together you pulled away and inspected his face. Perfect. He was absolutely perfect. “Az… you’re here.”

He nodded and grabbed your hands, noticing the way his thumb brushed over your ring finger.

“Rhys is back home… and I had to make sure you were…”

“I’m fine, the last five decades have been hell, but I’m fine. What about you?”

“I’ve wanted to say I’m sorry for so long, what I said that day-”

“I know. You don’t have to apologize.”

“I do. I was jealous and foolish and it has haunted me ever since.”

“It’s alright Az, I just… I’m so happy you’re here.”

The version of events Elain got was “once Thesan returned I knew someone would come for me.”

You told her how Feyre also had a difficult time with being turned fae, that it was fine for her to take her time to heal.

After lunch there would be a knock on the door. Sometimes it would be Nesta, sometimes Madja, sometimes Rhys but today it was Azriel. He had made a complete recovery and would often keep you company while you were with Elain.

He handed you a bouquet of flowers. “Happy anniversary.”

You felt your cheeks redden at the gesture. “You know it’s not until tomorrow.”

“I felt like starting the celebrations early, you know, to make up for lost time.” Rolled your eyes as he grabbed your free hand, “come on.”

Just then Nesta walked into the room, a novel tucked under her arm. “I can stay, y/n, go on.”

“Where are we going?” You asked as Azriel picked you up and launched into the sky.

“You’ll see in a few minutes.”

You landed on a little cove by the Sidra. “I figured you needed a break from the house.” You nodded and sat on the shore, your feet just touching the water. Gentle waves lapping at your legs. He sat down next to you.

“You never told me what actually happened with Lenus.”

“We just stopped loving each other… and he cheated.”

Azriel looked like you had just said something ridiculous “Lenus cheated on you?”

A nod “yep.”

“Lenus, glasses Lenus? Lenus the scribe?”

“She was also a scribe. Get this, I caught them in the library.”

“No you did not.”

“I most certainly did. Anyways, after that I put everything of his in a box and threw it away. Haven’t heard from him since.”

“If I ever see him again, I’ll kill him.”

“You don’t have to kill him, just remind me to never date a scribe ever again, please.”

“Noted.”

“Have you ever dated someone in the last fifty years?”

“No.”

“Really?” You raise a brow at him.

“We had to keep the court running, I was busy.”

“Yeah, yeah… Az?”

“Do you think you have a mate?” He looked up and thought about it.

“I hope I do, but who knows.”

“I’m afraid I don’t.”

“Why?”

“Well I’ve been alive for so long and I haven’t felt it yet. But the Archerons were turned and immediately found theirs.”

“But Rhys was over 500 when he met Feyre, so… there’s still hope. You’re what? 499? Still have one year to find them.”

You splashed water on him “you’re so dumb sometimes.”

You spent the rest of the day in the cove. But even the longest day of the year had to end so when the sun was setting, Azriel flew to your apartment. “Home sweet home.” He said as he put you down.

“I haven’t been here in weeks, there’s nothing to eat.”

“Let's go to a restaurant then.” Azriel grabbed your hand and led you to a small place at the end of your street. You always came here when you wanted something with noodles. You were led by an employee to your usual table, a small booth near the back. Just big enough for Azriel to fit comfortably but hidden away from curious fae.

You ordered what you always get and so did Azriel. While you waited for the food you took Azriel’s hand in yours, feeling his pulse, confirming it. “I still can’t believe you’re alive.”

That arrow was straight through his chest.

“It’s going to take a lot more to kill me.”

You lifted your gaze to meet his. His breath caught in his throat at the intensity, like a switch had flipped. “Promise me I’ll die first.”

The air got thicker and Azriel’s wings tensed. “What?”

“I can’t watch you die Az, I- I won’t survive it. So just promise me I’ll die first.” He grabbed your hand with both of his.

“It's ok. See? You patched me up good as new.” He wasn’t getting it. Tears began to pool in your eyes as you pleaded.

“Azriel-” you said so low he could barely hear it “please…” He saw your chest heaving and knew what was happening. So he pulled you next to him with both arms and made a shield with his wings and shadows. “Breathe, y/n. I’m right here. I’m right here.”

You were sobbing now, clutching his leathers as if he would float away. He held you firm against his chest. His heart a little faster than normal, but steady. It was the greatest symphony and the most beautiful prose. You kept your ear pressed against his chest. He was mumbling “I’m here, I’m ok, It’s alright.” Over and over.

You were back in your apartment now. Azriel had asked for the food to go and brought you back home. So now you sit on your couch, the food getting cold on the coffee table. Hugging your knees to your chest as Azriel draws circles on your back. The crying stopped a while ago. The mortification on the other hand… You hid your face in your knees. “I’m embarrassed.”

“Why? At least you didn’t have a panic attack in the middle of a one night stand.” He attempted to joke.

“I always keep it together.”

“You don’t have to.”

“It just- it keeps me awake at night, the arrow right through your chest. Your heart-” a gulp “I could feel your heart desperate for relief, the ash and the blood loss put so much of a strain on it- you didn’t see how close you were to being gone and- I close my eyes and I see you on that table limp and-” You hadn't spoken with him about any of this. He woke up and you were your usual self, if a bit sleep deprived.

“I never thanked you” , his hands still drawing circles on your back,“thank you for healing me.”

“Anytime Az,” you lift your face from your knees and give him something that resembles a smile. With his thumb he brushes away a few tears and some strands of hair stuck on your face. “Are you hungry?”

You nod.

“Then let's eat.”

#acosf #acowar #acotar #acofas #acomaf #acotar fanfiction #azriel shadowsinger #rhysand #a court of silver flames #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #one day series #azriel x reader #azriel

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thewalkingwillowtree · 10 months

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Safe Haven

Series Part Listing Found Here

Neteyam x Original Na'vi Female Character

Summery: Seeking refuge, Xilä and her father venture to the lands of the Omatikaya clan, in the hopes that the Toruk Makto would be generous in allowing them to stay. This is her story about not only finding her strength, but finding love.

Warning: This story contains smut, violence & abuse (please don't read if these topics will affect you)

Some characters have been aged up. Neteyam in particular is 23.

Xilä is my own creation.

Part 1 - Escape

Xilä was roughly roused from sleep. Calloused hands forcefully tugged her into a seated position, shaking her frantically.

“Wake up girl. They’re coming! Get dressed!” It was her father.

Licking her chapped lips and blinking to force herself awake, she watched as her father moved around their tiny home, arming himself with what seemed like every weapon he owned. He was dressed for the outside already- a threadbare hooded cloak was draped over his large body and cracked, hexapede leather boots covered his massive feet.

“Xilä! Don’t make me smack you. Get. Up!”

Moving quickly, she tied her makeshift, calf length boots to her feet- they would be in need of another repair soon.

“Father, what is happening?” She asked shakily as she slipped on her own cloak over her frame, ensuring her hood was secure and her nose and mouth were covered.

“Don’t ask questions. Pack whatever food we have left. We need to leave.”

Her hands shook as she used a scrap of cloth to wrap up a measly hunk of seed loaf, some shrivelled root vegetables and a small clay pot of two day old mashed beans. She had just tied off the knot when she heard distant hoots and howls coming from outside- The Rogue Warriors.

T'shteyo grabbed his daughter’s wrist painfully and dragged her out of their home. Home was putting it lightly. Their abode- like all the others in their little village, was nothing but a poorly assembled lean-to, made out of rocks and sun-baked clay. Weaved, strips of sticks and tree bark acted as their privacy screen and her sad excuse of a bed was the thin skin of deadland beast.

“Keep your mouth shut,” her father hissed harshly as he dragged her behind him.

They kept to the shadows, dodging around surrounding structures and completely dead shrubs, leaping over the deep cracks and faults that littered the ground. The sky was still dark but the tinge of purple told her that morning was near.

Panting excessively, Xilä kept glancing behind her, looking to see if anyone followed them. She felt light headed- having not been used to such vigorous activity. She also hadn’t had a decent meal in who knows how long.

When she realized where her father was leading them she dug her heels into the ground and ripped her wrist from his hold. Stumbling to catch her footing she shook her head vigorously.

“That’s the Dead Forest father. You said it was forbidden. Why- Ah!”

T'shteyo clamped her bicep in a bruising grip and pulled her close. “You questioning me now? You think you know best, girl?”

Her ears fell back and her eyes fell to her feet. “No father.”

“Those bastards back there? Su’ko and his men? They want us dead. And unless you want me to leave your pesky ass here you shut up and do as I say, when I say. You don’t question me. Understood?”

She nodded numbly and once he was satisfied with her response he turned and headed straight into the forest without another word.

The Dead Forest was exactly like its namesake. Dead. There were no signs of life here- not a single green leaf or blade of grass was seen and parts of the forest appeared to be burnt, remnants of smoke lingering in the still air.

When they had made it a substantial distance away from the village, her father stopped at the base of what she assumed was once a grand tree.

“Okay. You stay here and keep out of sight until I get back.”

Xilä perked up in alarm. He was leaving her? Here?! She was about to question him but his glare reminded her of the conversation he’d had with her that morning.

“Keep the food and don’t make a sound. Got me?” And then he was gone.

Scared of every rustle and crack of the woods surrounding her, Xilä squeezed herself between a gap in the large trunk and tucked her knees to her chest, waiting with baited breath.

She felt miserable….but then again she was always miserable. That was her life, wasn’t it? Her mind wandered to the clan- to the home she had just escaped from.

Since she could remember, her clan had struggled. Way before her birth, the lands of the Li'ona clan were well known for its crystal clear rivers and abundant wildlife, but over time the rains stopped and so the rivers dried up. Food grew scarce, the lands became barren and the people suffered.

Through the years the suffering grew worse. They had to wear boots and thick coverings to protect themselves from the harsh weather, else it caused blisters and heat stroke. There were many quakes and tremors too which caused the ground to shift and crack.

One such deadly quake a few years back was the reason they’d lost their home, the reason they lived so poorly now. That quake had also caused the deaths of many of their people- they were too few in numbers now.

T'shteyo, her father, was the clan’s Olo'eyktan and as the people’s despair and misery grew, so did their hatred for the leader. A rebellion was born- The Rogue Warriors as people called them, led by the ruthless Su’ko, tried to overthrow her father’s ruling many times over the years- threatening not only his life but hers too.

Xilä was guessing that them being on the run now meant that rebellion had been successful this time- they had won. Her father had finally been overthrown.

Night drew near now. Where did her father go? How long should she wait until?

Two days went by. She was starving and dying of thirst. The food was long gone and with every second that passed her hope faded. Xilä forced herself to think good things, clinging to the tiny remnants of hope she had left. Hope that her father had not abandoned her. Hope for a better life.

She dared not cry though. Like her father said, crying was a sign of weakness.

On the night of the third day, the loud roar of an animal in the distance woke her from a light slumber. Ears straining to hear she held her breath as its galloping drew closer and closer- until it sounded as if it were right on top of her.

The shadow of a creature bathed her in darkness- fear crippling her…and then she heard her father’s voice.

“Time to go.”

They rode for three weeks straight, stopping only when the beast grew tired. Her father had found the direhorse by sheer luck he’d said. It was massive, ugly and seemed to share the same temperament as its new owner.

Xilä had never been this far from home before and with every minute that passed by, she saw something new and exciting. Never before had she seen so much greenery, so much life. It was hard to keep the grin off her face.

Two days ago when they stopped for the beast to rest and while her father napped, she had snuck away to bathe in the stream they’d collected water from. It was glorious. She scrubbed every nook and cranny of her being, from head to toe.

Her waist length hair was still ratty and tangled but at least it was properly cleaned for the first time in months.

She also managed to wash her worn, shabby shift dress she usually wore under her cloak. It never fit her properly, always hanging off one shoulder uncomfortably. But at least it smelled clean again- like the soap nuts she had used to also scrub her hair and body.

As they journeyed, the forest surrounding them now was lush and alive, thriving in wonderment and Xilä wished she had more than one pair of eyes, if only to see more.

Xilä wasn’t quite sure where they were going, she never bothered to ask either since she knew it would only anger her father.

He had always been angry towards her. T'shteyo was taller than most Na’vi men but his frame was weak. Lack of proper diet over the years had caused him to lose the majority of his muscle mass. That meant nothing though, he was still a force to be reckoned with and through the years of constant trials and tribulations he faced, it hardened him- turning him into the monster he was today.

“We should be almost there now, if we push we’d get there in a day and a half or so.”

Xilä perked up at the sudden information her father decided to share. For the most part, their journey had been conversational less, apart from his occasional grunts of “time to go,” or “eat this,” or “shut up,” the one time she’d been humming too loudly.

“Where is there, exactly?” She asked, hesitantly.

“The Omaticaya clan,” he responded gruffly, chewing on a raw root vegetable as they sat in the clearing the direhourse was grazing in.

They had so far only been surviving on the few raw fruits or vegetables they recognized. Her father refused to hunt or build a fire to cook anything decent.

The Omaticaya clan. She’d heard about them before.

Many years ago, way before she was even born, there was a Great War. Their world had been invaded by spices they called Humans- she’d never seen one in all her nineteen years of life but had heard many horrific tales about the terrifying creatures.

The Humans demolished the Omaticaya home “HomeTree” and so a war broke out. The clan leader, the legendary Toruk Makto had called upon the aid of other clans. Xilä’s father had been one of the few leaders who responded to their call for help- leading his own warriors out to battle.

“And…you know where they live now?” She asked, wondering how he knew where to find them, even after all these years.

He sucked his teeth and grunted in acknowledgement. “Now listen here. You don’t say a word to anyone. You leave the talking to me, got it? Step a toe out of line and you’ll have it coming, that I promise.”

A rustle and the crack of a twig had them both alert and simultaneously jerking to the direction it came from. The next few seconds seemed as if played out in slow motion.

A massive hissing creature lunged out of the wilderness and attacked their direhorse that was grazing some feet away.

Xilä screamed and scrambled to her feet as her father charged at the beast, his knives at the ready.

Movement caught her eye and now there was another six legged creature edging its way to closer to the direhorse. At her gasp it snapped its head in her direction, stilling for a fraction of a second before it charged.

Xilä ran.

Pushing herself, she dodged around the illuminated flora surrounding her, screaming at the stop of her lungs as it quickly gained on her.

She grappled onto a tall thick tree root, ungracefully pulling herself up to claw her way higher up the tree. It did nothing to deter her predator as it leaped forward landing on the branch above her.

With a terrified gasp and a silent scream she slipped. Her head landed against the forest floor with a resounding CRACK. She stared helplessly as the creature above her leaped onto the ground once more, prowling towards her.

Just as it moved to pounce, an arrow embedded into its side. It roared angrily, hissing and stumbling on its legs before another arrow joined the first.

Then it finally fell. Dead.

Xilä was immovable. Head throbbing agonizingly, her vision grew dark.

The last thing she saw before she lost consciousness was a flash of vibrant blue stripes and gold glowing eyes.

Hello lovelies, I missed you guys! I am finally back with another story. The style will definitely be different, but I'm hoping you guys like it.

This is kind of an introduction per say, the other chapters will be longer. Fingers crossed I have part 2 up tonight, if not tomorrow.

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged.

Thanks for reading. Please like and comment, I love hearing from you all :)

Tag: @riatesullironalite

#neteyam #neteyam x oc #neteyam avatar #neteyam fic #neteyam x reader #neteyam fanfiction #neteyam sully #avatar twow

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kingofbodyrolls · 9 months

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Hello! 🌸

My name is Lissa and I’m a 93 liner. I have been writing for many years, but only recently got back to it. I only write for BTS, and please look at my masterlist for all my writings 🥰

I enjoy reading as much as I do writing, and I love spreading joy and happiness 💞

I’m also on ao3 → kingofbodyrolls.

Newest work (04/04/24) (dd/mm/yy) → My Heart's Home chp 10 [pjm]

Please do NOT repost, translate, or modify my works in any way, shape or form, on any platform. doing so will be considered as plagiarism and appropriate action will be taken.

You are more than welcome to reblog, like and comment my work 🥰

Genre + emoji meaning/key: Angst = 🌩️ || Smut = 🥵 || Fluff = 🥰 || Comedy = 😂 || Yandere = 😈 || Thriller/dark = 👻 || Personal favorite = 💯 || Completed = ✅ || Ongoing/writing = ✍️

Sprout [series ✅💯] 21K - 🥵😂 You love your plants, you love your garden, you do not love your new neighbor. You hate him with all your might— he wrecks everything you hold dear so you do the only reasonable thing: retaliate.

→ Series masterlist

... yet to come!

Friendcation [series ✅💯] 110.5K - 🥵🥰😂 Going camping with your best friends seemed like a brilliant idea when you initially made the plans. But when you harbor secret feelings for one of them, what will become of you being close confined for three months? Trouble, that’s what.

→ Series masterlist

Learn to Love Again [one-shot ✅💯] 19.4K -🌩️👻🥵🥰 People always leave. They become beautiful stars shining bright in the night sky. When life hands you lemons, you’ve been told to make lemonade, but that is hard when your soul and heart is breaking apart. When you rescue a tiny cat and meet a handsome stranger in the cafe, you finally feel yourself healing – but when they too leave, how are you going to learn to love again?

→ Learn to Love Again

... yet to come!

Coming Home [series ✅💯] 44K - 🌩️🥵🥰😂👻😈 When your best friend, Park Jimin, who you’ve had a crush on since forever, suggests you stay at his house to heal and find yourself again after a series of traumatizing events had haunted you for years, you don’t hesitate to accept. Within those walls, a safe haven is woven, where wounds can heal and memories find release. As he nurtures your shattered spirit, an unexpected intimacy unfurls, leaving the fragile barrier between friendship and deeper emotions in question - can you keep your feelings hidden?

→ Series masterlist

39,5°C (Fever) [one-shot ✅] 6.2K - 🥵 When you get sick you want three things; rest all day, eat your comfort food and have as many orgasms as you can.

→ 39,5°C (Fever)

Stuck in a Snowstorm [one-shot ✅💯] 6.1K - 🥵😂 You don’t know how you ended up here. Stuck with your mortal enemy, Park Jimin, in you car – in a fucking snowstorm.

→ Stuck in a Snowstorm (part of 'the winter collection')

Stuck at a Christmas party [one-shot ✅💯] 5.1K - 🥵😂 It’s Seokjin’s Christmas party and you’re trying your best to be social with your friends, but it’s really hard when you feel the burning stare of your nemesis, Park Jimin, lighting your skin on fire. It doesn’t help when you feel his hand between your legs under the dinner table.

→ Stuck at a Christmas party (part of 'the winter collection')

My Heart's Home [series ✍️💯] TBA - 🌩️🥵🥰😂 You’d never thought you’d step foot back at the ranch– a place you used to call home a long time ago. When you are forced to go back, reconcile with your sister and a certain childhood friend that you had long forgotten, will sparks reunite?

→ Series masterlist (ft. Jungkook)

Skinny-dipping [drabble ✅] 1.7K - 🥵🥰

→ Skinny-dipping

Say that Again (I Dare You) [one-shot ✅💯] 13.1K - 🥵 You moan in your sleep, and your boyfriend knows this, but when you keep moaning another man’s name in your sleep - and that man just happens to be one of your friends? What will Jungkook do?

→ Say that Again (I Dare You) (ft. Jimin)

Say I Do [one-shot ✅] 5.2K - 🥵 You and Jungkook tease each other at your wedding reception.

→ Say I Do

#masterlist #bts masterlist #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts x reader #bts x you #bangtan x reader #bangtan x you #bangtan fanfic #bangtan fic

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mel-0n-earth · 3 months

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BG3 February Writing Challenge: Day 7

Day 7 (SFW): A heated argument with companion/LI

Original prompt list

[Oof, this is an angsty one guys. This is a standalone Dammon x Tav, but can also be read as a continuation of my series The Hellion's Heart, if you so desire. Either way, get ready for some big feels.]

Dammon stared out at the looming storm on the horizon, sky churning red with smoke and lightning. The city burned beneath their tower haven, and somewhere beyond, the Elder Brain lied in wait, hellbent on seizing the Gate and all Faerun by any means necessary. It was a horror worse than anything he’d ever faced in the Hells.

And that wasn’t even the worst of it.

He turned to regard Tav where stood in a huddle across the room, speaking to her companions in a hushed tone, presumably laying out a plan of attack for the upcoming battle. It had been a long time since he’d seen Tav prepared for battle, armor and all. Not since the Grove, at least. He hadn’t been prepared for it, the tempest of feelings the sight brewed in his chest.

He’d seen the Elder Brain soaring over the city, gargantuan and indomitable. He’d witnessed firsthand the destruction it commanded in its wake, the mindless ferocity of its thralls, And now, Tav was going after it. Gods, she was going to fight that thing. His stomach dropped at the thought, hands numb and blood roaring in his ears.

He might lose her today.

“Dammon?”

He blinked, eyes refocusing to the tower room. Tav was standing before him, mouth pressed in a flat line and hand rested over the hilt of her sword—the one he had made for her, thinking it would offer protection, keep her safe. What a fool he was.

His eyes darted over her silvery armor, already stained with blood. A bit of the sticky crimson had splattered across her face. How much more would be spilled tonight?

She’s so beautiful.

“We’re ready, I think,” he heard her say. “To move forward.”

“Oh, right…” His voice sounded hollow. “Do you have everything you need? Potions, weapons…”

“We’re as prepared as we can be.”

Dammon’s jaw clenched shut, composure hanging by a thread as he studied the mix of terror and resolve dancing in her eyes. She really planned to do this, to take on the Brain—the Absolute themselves. Panic rose in his throat. He tried and failed to swallow it down.

“Stay,” he said without thinking, mouth dry as it struggled to form that singular request.

Tav gave him a stunned look. “Dammon,” she said, brows knitting and voice brittle, “You know I can’t do that.”

He shook his head, willing his voice to hold steady. “Why not? Your friends are plenty able, and you’re always on the front lines. You’ve fought an entire war leading from the front. Surely you can sit out one battle?”

“I…You know that’s not how this works.”

He knew he should drop it, but he couldn’t. A drop of venom slipped into his tone. “Since when?” he cut out.

She pulled back at that, the shock plain in her expression. “What do you mean ‘since when?’ You know the answer to that. This is my fight, Dammon. It has been since the beginning.” She gestured to her companions where they’d gathered near the exit. “I can’t just leave them now. I have to finish this. I need to fight.”

A thread had snapped somewhere in his chest, and Tav nearly recoiled at the result. He’d never raised his voice to her before, not even once. But he couldn’t stop himself. It felt like he was sending her to her grave. What kind of man would he be if he just stood idly by and let her walk freely to her own execution? “And what about this fight?!” He slapped a hand over his chest, eyes glistening with tears. “What about me? Why can you leave me, but not them?”

He saw her falter then, eyes darting about in search of a response. “It’s not forever, Dammon. I’ll come back—”

“And how do you know that?!” He was shouting now. The others were staring, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. “I mean, hells Tav, how do I know you have any chance of surviving this? Sure, if anyone could survive this, it would be you. But what if I don’t want to take that chance? What if I don’t want to gamble on something this important?”

“It’s not a gamble—”

“Isn’t it?” The words cracked in his throat, as if a long-caged fear had finally broken loose. He regarded her with a blue-hot stare, brow creased and heart aching with dread. “What am I supposed to do if you don’t come back? How am I supposed to go on after that?”

Her lips parted, but she said nothing. Dammon felt his anger chill to despair. He could see it in her eyes, that she wasn’t going to stay, that no matter what he said, she would fight.

Tears began to slip down his cheeks. She was right—this was too important. She had to finish it.

But gods, why did it have to be her?

Tav reached for him then, cradling his face in her hands and pulling him into a desperate kiss. He could tell from the way her mouth moved against him--she knew full well that this may be the last time she ever saw him.

His chest broke open, heart shattering as he sobbed against her. “You don’t have to fight, Tav. Please. Stay.”

She pressed her brow to his, eyes squeezed shut. “I have to go, but I’ll be back. I promise. I love you.”

One more tear-stained kiss, and she was turning to leave, weapon drawn and gripped in a tight-knuckled fist. Dammon watched as she joined her friends at the door, then cast one last devastating look at him before disappearing into the chaos.

Dammon collapsed against a wall, face buried in his hands and body shaking with grief. In the Hells, he would have waited until he was alone, but now, he didn’t care who saw. It was just too much. Memories of her flashed before his eyes, as if their time together were on its dying breath. Tav covered in bruises after fighting goblins at the Grove, Tav’s sighs in his ear as he moved against her between cotton sheets, Tav laughing at something while they ate fried fish at a Tavern. The unfairness of it all tore a sob from his throat. They’d had so little time together.

He felt a hand on his shoulders. He knew without looking that it belonged to Alfira, though she didn’t utter a word.

“She’ll come back,” he said to himself more than anyone. “She has to.”

She had to.

#I'm so sorry #but also I'm not #bg3ficfeb #bg3 #fanfiction #fanfic #Dammon x Tav #dammon #angst

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bellaxgiornata · 11 months

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Safe Haven [Chapter Two]

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Fem!Reader Word Count: 5k [Series Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains violence, drug use, domestic abuse, smut, hurt/comfort, angst, mutual pining, friends to lovers

a/n: Back with another! Reader meets Mikey in this one! And there's also a depiction of a seizure in this chapter. Admittedly I edited this one quick so I hope there's no major errors. I just wanted to post this before I went to sleep! You can find the entire list of chapters for this series here.

Tag List: @loveroftoomanyfandoms @farfromstrange @rotscinema @1988-fiend @shouldbestudying41 @shiorimakibawrites @norestfortheshelbywicked @winterschildren17 @acharliecoxedfan @roseallisonparker

Pouring yourself a large glass of wine from the bottle of merlot Birdy had dropped off for you the other day, you heard the television running in the living room–or sitting room, as you forced yourself to remember. Megan had gotten home from her shift at the hospital a bit ago and the two of you had eaten dinner together at her little dining table in the kitchen. While she planned to catch up on some Netflix shows this evening, you were going to grab your laptop and the overfull glass of wine and sit out in the garden and work on your writing. It had been a couple of weeks since you’d truly had a moment to focus on it and you desperately needed to catch up so that you could make your deadlines.

You tucked your laptop under one arm, grabbing the full glass of wine from the counter in the other, and then made your way out of the kitchen. Megan shot you a smile from the couch when she heard your footsteps approaching. Her eyes dropped down, taking in the glass of wine in your hand before glancing at your laptop.

“Good luck. I hope that wine helps your creativity,” she teased.

“It’ll certainly help with something,” you replied, passing behind her on the couch.

Stopping in front of the sliding glass door, you awkwardly maneuvered the things you were carrying so you could unlock it. You used your elbow to carefully slide it open, making sure you didn't spill a drop of wine as you did. Stepping out onto the patio, you used the same elbow to close the door after yourself. And then you turned, making your way over to the table and chairs Megan had on the patio.

You set your laptop onto the table, drawing the glass of wine to your lips as you slid out a chair. From the house just one more over, you could hear the sounds of shouting and laughter. It sounded like they were having some sort of party at the fancy Kinsella house. Brows furrowing, you looked over the four foot stone fence separating Megan’s back garden from the neighbor’s. You could see lights on in every room of Jimmy and Amanda Kinsella’s house. It took a moment for you to remember that today was Wednesday, the day Megan’s neighbor was apparently released from prison. The one who’s bedroom window looked directly into yours. They were probably celebrating his return.

“Wonderful,” you muttered to yourself, settling into the chair.

Flipping open your laptop, you pushed the power button and brought your glass of wine to your lips, taking another drink as the computer started. Tilting your head back, you looked up at the cloudy night sky above you while you waited. Unfortunately there was far too much light pollution in Dublin to see much more than the clouds this evening.

Sighing, a sharp yet hollow ache hit you in the chest. You’d missed those nights at your last home you’d stayed at in Wisconsin. You used to be able to step out into your backyard and cozy up on your hammock with a blanket. Your mind would go just as quiet and still as the evening around you when you stared up at those twinkling stars. You’d loved that little one bedroom house, more than you’d thought you would. You even went so far as planting flowers in the yard and finding decor for the house, truly making it your own.

But inevitably, like all things in your life lately, you’d had to leave it behind.

A loud peel of distant laughter pulled you from your thoughts, your mind returning to the moment as you quickly blinked back tears. You forced yourself to focus on your laptop before you instead. Leaning forward, you pulled up your email, frowning when you saw an email from your editor. No doubt complaining about you relocating yet again and wasting more time moving as opposed to spending that time writing–which she’d recently been on your ass about. Not that Angela had any idea about what was going on with all your new places of residency–though she knew how much you’d emphasized your privacy lately.

With a frown, you picked up your glass of wine and skimmed through the email, only confirming what you’d already suspected. Rolling your eyes, you took another deep drink from the glass, not even bothering to properly enjoy the expensive merlot before you set the glass down and typed up a fast response. Afterwards, you opened up your documents, pulling up the half finished chapter and scrolling through the pages until you found where you’d left off–and then you paused. You’d stopped writing mid-sentence, having been interrupted the last time you’d sat down to work. Flashes of that evening ran through your mind and your eyes snapped shut. That familiar cold prickle of fear crept its way up the back of your neck.

“No,” you muttered, pulling your cardigan tighter around yourself. “Not thinking about that tonight.”

Shaking your head roughly, you did your best to push those thoughts away, though not before taking a good look around the garden to make sure you were truly alone. But you saw nothing out of the ordinary in or outside of the fenced-in yard.

“He doesn’t know I’m here,” you told yourself. “Relax.”

Shifting your gaze, you intensely focused on the words along the screen before you, forcing yourself to concentrate on the last few paragraphs you’d written. It had inevitably taken you multiple re-reads for you to feel like you’d actually read them, though. But eventually, your fingers were flying across your keyboard, your mind once again lost in your story. And you’d carried on that way for quite awhile, occasionally pausing to drink a bit more wine until the glass was empty.

You had been so wrapped up in your writing that the sound of goodbyes ringing out from down the street caught your attention. Glancing over your shoulder, finally drawn away from the writing you’d been doing, you heard a bit of muffled conversation and the sound of car doors being closed. You turned back around, looking down at the time on your laptop. It wasn’t even that late–barely after nine at night. You quickly found yourself surprised that this big bad Irish mob party for their newly returned member from prison had ended so early. Because, from your experience, those usually raged all night.

“But I don’t care about that,” you reminded yourself.

Leaning forward, you focused back on your laptop’s screen. Absently you chewed a fingernail, re-reading the section you’d just written. Your nose scrunched up as you cringed at the entire last paragraph. It didn’t sound right, something about it felt off. Pulling your nail from your teeth, you lowered your finger above the backspace button, about to erase the entire paragraph, but a light unexpectedly turning on in the house next door caused you to jump in your seat.

Sitting bolt upright in your chair, you rubbed a hand across your forehead and tried to calm your racing heart. Looking over to your right, you reminded yourself that it was just the neighbor finally going home next door. Which you supposed meant he’d be living in that house after all.

“Not a big deal,” you whispered. “Just ignore him.”

For a few minutes you focused back on your work, rewriting that entire final paragraph you’d just scrapped. But something about it still felt off to you. Why were you struggling to get the words to come out right? With a groan, you reached over to pick up your wine glass only to remember it had been empty for a bit now. Shoulders slumping, you contemplated calling it a night. Maybe some sleep would help you tackle this tomorrow.

You saved your work before exiting out of your programs and turning off your laptop. But before you could head back inside, the sliding door on the neighbor’s house opened and you froze in your chair at the sound.

Head turning quickly to the side, you noticed a dark haired man stepping outside, his face cast in shadow in the dark of night. You couldn’t help but notice the way he half-heartedly closed his back door like it was a struggle for him to do so. After, he almost limped along the back wall of his house, his shoulder brushing against it as he moved. Your eyes narrowed as you watched him. Something about his movements seemed off. Was he drunk? Or on drugs?

He came to a pause on his patio, his head tilting at a strange angle as he stood incredibly still. Your eyes dropped down to the twitching movement of his fingers, a crease forming between your brows. Something was clearly not right.

You rose to your feet the exact moment the man collapsed to the brick patio beneath him. A surprised gasp flew out of you, your eyes going wide. With the four foot stone fence in the way, you didn’t have an unobstructed view to know if he’d hit his head on the way down or not.

Not even thinking about your actions, you shoved your chair back and raced over to the fence. Blaming it on the adrenaline coursing through you, you stepped up onto the little bench Megan had placed against the stone wall and managed to pull yourself up and over the fence, dropping ungracefully onto a patch of grass. Rising back up to your feet, you hurried over to the man who’d crumpled on the ground, your eyes still wide as you took in the sight of him seizing on the ground.

Seizure, you realized. He was having a seizure.

Immediately you jumped into action, pushing the nearby patio chairs away from the man where he lay on the ground so he wouldn’t hurt himself. Crouching down carefully beside him, you sent him a tense smile. You knew sometimes during a seizure the person could somewhat comprehend what was happening around them, so you figured you’d try to talk to him in the off chance he could understand.

“Hey, I’m your next door neighbor,” you began awkwardly. “I uh, I don’t know if you’re actually able to understand me, but it looks like you’re having a seizure. I’m just–just going to roll you onto your side, alright? It’ll help you breathe better.”

Biting your lip, your hands nervously reached out and landed lightly over the top of his dark jacket-clad shoulders. When he didn’t fight you, you carefully rolled him onto his side with some effort. Next, you slipped your cardigan off of yourself, bunching it up in your hands.

“I uh, I’m just going to put something under your head so you don’t hurt yourself,” you awkwardly explained.

Gingerly you raised his head, gently cradling it in your hand as he continued to shake before you slipped your bunched up sweater underneath him. You lowered his head slowly back to rest on your sweater and then you sat back on the patio. There was nothing more for you left to do but wait out his seizure, so you tucked your legs into your chest and waited quietly beside him.

For some reason your heart ached at the sight of this man lying on the ground like this. And you knew he probably wouldn’t be thrilled to know he had an audience when he came out of it, but you also didn't want to just leave him here alone. He might need further help. You just hoped he wasn’t a violent man when he came out of it.

It was about another minute before you saw some sign of recognition that a stranger was sitting beside him flicker in the man’s eyes. He blinked slowly a few times, his brows drawing together on his forehead.

“Who–who’re ya?” he asked, his words slightly slurred together.

“Your neighbor,” you told him calmly. “Assuming you’re the man who lives here. You are, aren’t you?”

“I–I am,” he answered.

You watched as his hand slid along the brick patio, trying to push himself upright. One of your hands flew out instantly, gently resting on his shoulder. When his eyes narrowed at your touch, you quickly removed your hand.

“Sorry,” you apologized. “But you should give it a moment before you get up. Make sure you’re good first.”

“I’m grand,” he stated firmly, continuing to push himself up from the ground.

“It looked like you just had a seizure,” you replied, shaking your head. “You’re probably not grand at all.”

He blinked a few more times back at you, his hand coming up to rub at his temple as he slowly sat upright. From this close up, without him seizing on the ground and you worried about him, you couldn’t help but notice he was attractive. His dark hair was a bit mussed and you spotted a bit of gray in his beard in the dim light shining out of his house, but you were surprised to find that he had a nice face. Despite the guardedness in his expression, his eyes almost seemed…kind. Like there was something warm hidden far, far back in the depths of them. Which was odd for a man who’d just been released from prison. Usually 'kind' wasn’t the feeling you picked up on. And considering the vulnerable state you’d just found him in, you were shocked he wasn’t responding towards you more aggressively, which only made you more curious.

“I don’t have seizures,” he countered.

“Okay,” you said slowly, “but apparently you do. Because you just did.”

“I–” he paused, shaking his head slowly. “Doesn’t matter. What’re ya doin’ here?”

Your eyebrows rose up onto your forehead before you glanced away awkwardly down at your feet. Heat was creeping its way up your neck and towards your cheeks. Why had you jumped the fence to come help a stranger?

Clearing your throat nervously, you answered, “You looked like you needed help.”

“ I’m grand ,” he pressed.

“You know in my experience,” you shot back sarcastically, “generally when someone collapses to the ground, they’re not grand. So can you stop saying that already?”

The man didn’t answer as he pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes. A brief silence fell over the pair of you, one that had you shifting uncomfortably in front of him. You should probably go. It was weird you’d jumped the fence to check on him to begin with, this was just getting vastly more awkward.

“You’re–you’re American?” he asked.

Your attention returned to him at the question. He was eyeing you curiously in the dark, the corners of his eyes creased as they scanned over your face. Something about his eyes had you getting lost in them, your mind going momentarily blank before you started fumbling to form words.

“Y-yeah,” you breathed out. You cleared your throat yet again when you’d sounded far too breathy for your liking. “Just moved in with my half-sister the other day.” You gestured a hand behind you to your sister’s house. "Technically it's her house, I'm just…crashing for a bit."

Another awkward silence fell between the pair of you, the man just silently watching you with an unreadable expression on his face. You sent him a tense smile before pushing yourself up to your feet, his eyes following your movement. A moment later he slowly followed suit, coming to stand beside you. Heat was still burning at your cheeks under the weight of his stare.

"I should go, this is just–just weird," you blurted, laughing nervously. "I uh, I'm sorry for intruding but I just–" you paused, shaking your head, "–I couldn't just ignore you like that. I'm–I’m sorry."

You turned, grimacing at how uncomfortable this whole interaction had been as you made your way back over to the fence.

"Wait!"

You stopped, turning your head over your shoulder back towards him. Your eyes dropped down to his outstretched hand that was holding your balled up cardigan.

"This is yours, yeah?" he asked, making his way over to you slowly.

"Oh, yes, thank you," you mumbled, accepting the sweater.

You quickly slipped the sweater back on, only just now realizing how cold you'd gotten in your tee-shirt in the chilly evening. The fear for the man and then the awkward conversation afterwards had definitely distracted you from the temperature of the evening.

You turned back to the fence and then paused, a frown falling onto your lips. How the hell were you going to scale the fence from this side? There was no way you had enough upper body strength to pull yourself up the four feet of stone without something to at least stand on.

"Ya don't need to scale the fence," the man's amused tone came from behind you. "I can let ya out through the front door, y'know."

Chewing your lip awkwardly, you half-turned towards him. Your arms wrapped around your chest as you shrank back from him. The last thing you felt like doing was agreeing to step into the house of a man you didn’t know. Especially one you knew had just been released from prison.

As if he sensed your sudden shift in mood, his expression lightened. He sent you a small smile, one that looked a little awkward, too.

"I'm–I'm not goin' to hurt ya," he muttered.

"I uh, don't really know you," you answered softly. "No offense, but honestly I'm not the type to wander into any strange man’s house. It’s not–not necessarily anything personal."

Something flickered in his eyes at your words, that smile of his beginning to twist downwards. He nodded after a moment, his eyes scanning around the garden. He focused on the chair you'd moved away from him during his seizure, walking over to it and picking it up in both of his hands. He glanced up at you, a timid smile on his mouth now.

"Least I can do is help ya over then," he said.

Biting your lip, you sent him a shy smile before stepping aside and out of his way. He walked over to the fence, setting the chair down beside it before he looked back over at you.

“Hopefully that’ll help,” he murmured.

You nodded, muttering a quiet ‘thanks’ as you walked over to the chair and carefully stepped up onto it. It shook a bit unsteadily underneath you, taking you by surprise. Your hands flew out to steady yourself against the stone at the same time his hands just barely grazed your hips. You instantly stiffened under the unexpected touch, your gaze falling over your shoulder and down on him.

“Sorry,” he apologized, quickly removing his hands.

“It–it’s fine,” you said, shooting him a tight smile.

Attention returning to the fence, you placed your hands on the top of it before briefly closing your eyes, begging whatever higher power existed not to make you look like a total dumbass right now. Using all of your strength, you managed to hoist yourself up onto the top of the fence, twisting so you could sit on it and throw your legs over the side facing Megan’s yard. And then you pushed yourself over with your hands, landing with a soft thud on the other side.

“Michael,” you heard him call out behind you.

Spinning on the spot, you looked back at the man over the fence separating the pair of you. He looked nervous now, and the way he’d called out towards you had sounded hurried, as if he wasn’t sure he’d wanted to or not. You raised a questioning brow back at him.

“My name,” he clarified, that nervous expression still spread across his face. “It’s Michael Kinsella.”

Hesitating a moment, you wondered if it was possible to avoid giving him your name. You didn’t want to draw any attention from a single Kinsella to you, but not offering him your name might do just that.

“Grace Moore,” you said eventually, offering him the fake name you’d taken to using here.

Part of you felt bad about lying when you saw the nerves ease from his face at your introduction. Something about lying to him just felt wrong. Trying to push that particular feeling away, you gestured towards the fence and laughed nervously.

“Can’t say I’m very graceful, though,” you joked.

A chuckle fell out of Michael in response, the sound seeming to surprise even himself considering how quickly he’d tried to control it. He nodded, shooting you a broad smile that looked like it lit up his face. For the briefest moment you caught a little glint in his eye, and you felt like you saw that glimpse of kindness you’d noticed earlier shining a little closer to the surface as he gazed back at you. The sight of it had a smile spreading across your mouth that you couldn’t control.

“I should let you go,” you said, taking a step back. “I was actually about to go to sleep before uh, well, this.”

“Sorry to have interrupted,” he replied. “But…thank ya.”

You nodded, clearing your throat as you raised a hand and waved at him. “Have a good rest of your night,” you said.

“I–I hope ya do as well,” he said softly.

You turned, making your way back over to the table where your laptop and empty wine glass were still located. You picked them both up and made your way back over to the sliding glass door. Pulling it open, you drew Megan’s attention to you instantly. She shot you a grin.

“What?” you asked her.

Taking a moment, you closed the door behind yourself and made sure it was locked. From the couch, you saw the way Megan shrugged a shoulder at you, that grin still on her mouth.

“Nothing,” she said slyly. “Just saw you making friends with the neighbor.”

You rolled your eyes, making your way back to the kitchen to take care of your wine glass.

“I wasn’t making friends,” you called back to her. “He fell down, I just wanted to make sure he was okay.”

“So you jump a four foot fence?” she called back.

Rinsing out your glass of wine in the kitchen sink, you huffed out a breath. “It was instinct, okay? I don’t know why I did it,” you answered.

“Well he’s cute,” she said loudly from the other room.

You set your wine glass carefully in the sink, telling yourself you’d take care of dishes in the morning before you made your way back down the hall towards the sitting room. Megan was still grinning at you when you appeared.

“How the hell do you know if he’s cute?” you asked.

“I may have…taken a peak outside when I wondered where you’d disappeared,” she admitted.

You rolled your eyes before shooting your sister a pointed look. “He’s also fresh out of prison,” you reminded her.

She shrugged easily again, that sly smile still on her face. “Wouldn’t be the first one,” she replied.

Your eyes narrowed back at your sister, anger and hurt both simultaneously unfurling in your gut. Noticing how her words had affected you, the smile quickly slipped off of her face.

“Sorry,” she said immediately. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I’m going to bed,” you replied. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Grace!” she called after you as you began to ascend the steps. “Hey, come on! I’m sorry! That wasn’t what I meant!”

But you continued on your way to your room, closing the door behind yourself quickly. Your breath felt like it was coming in short as you set your laptop on the nightstand beside the bed. Throwing a hand up, you tugged at the collar of your tee-shirt. You felt like you were beginning to suffocate. Sweat was starting to dampen your forehead as your body temperature increased as if a panic attack was on the horizon. Making your way over to the window, you yanked it up and lowered your face to the opening, immediately relieved when the cool night air hit you. Gradually your breathing began to even out as you relaxed in front of the open window.

You knew Megan hadn’t meant to make light of your past, but that didn’t mean it still hadn’t bothered you. Or that it didn’t shake loose a few thoughts you were quickly and desperately trying to shove back in their mental boxes where they belonged. Because you didn’t want to think about him .

A light flipped on in the bedroom across from your window, your eyes drawn to it. Through the sheer curtains you saw a figure moving around inside. Michael, you assumed. For a moment your mind went back to that strange and awkward encounter with him just minutes ago.

He had seemed sweet, nervous even. Not at all what you had expected him to be. And you certainly hadn't expected him to be a good-looking man about your age. And that Irish accent certainly wasn't half bad.

Your eyes snapped shut at the thought immediately. No, you were not going to think about Michael Kinsella like that. That was a terrible, horrible, awful, no-good idea. He was a danger to you keeping your identity a secret and being able to live here and lay low in peace. You were not going to form a crush on him.

Your brows lowered onto your forehead, your lips curving downwards. Why the hell did you think you were forming a crush? That was ridiculous, you were certainly not–

"Ya doin' alright over there?"

Eyes flying wide open, you spotted Michael. He was leaning forward out of his own open bedroom window, a look of concern written on his features. Your lips parted in surprise, not expecting him to have caught you. Especially not in the middle of the particular train of thoughts you'd just been having.

"Uh, yeah," you replied, a sheepish smile spreading over your lips.

"Do all Americans like leaving their windows open in the freezin' cold? Or is it just ya?" he asked.

It took a moment to realize he was teasing you and heat flushed over your cheeks yet again.

"I just needed some air," you answered. Feeling bold you asked, "What's your excuse?"

“Was wonderin’ if ya were planning to jump outta you’re window,” he replied. “Ya looked…”

You noticed how he trailed off, his eyes boring into you so intensely that it made you uncomfortable. Almost like if he looked long enough he’d discover all your hidden secrets. You abruptly decided to change the subject. He didn’t need to know what was on your mind–in relation to him or the reason why you’d initially needed the air in the first place. Instead, you glanced down at the ground below you.

“Would it matter?” you countered. “Most I’d do is break an arm at this height.”

“That’s awfully dark,” he said.

Your eyes flew back up towards him, a smile settling onto your mouth. “You’re the one making conversation with a woman you thought was about to jump out of a window,” you pointed out.

He nodded his head, one corner of his lip twitching up in amusement. “Ya make a good point,” he replied.

Another little silence fell between you, your eyes taking in the sight of Michael in his dark green and wrinkled tee-shirt. You could see him better now that he was in his well lit bedroom even if you were both about ten feet away from each other. He had tattoos on his arm that you hadn’t noticed earlier because he’d been wearing a jacket and you found yourself curious what they were of and for. He also looked like he had a bit of muscle underneath that loose shirt of his.

After a moment you realized you’d been standing there quietly checking him out and your eyes flew back up to his face. Judging by his own expression he must’ve realized he’d been doing the same, his gaze meeting yours only seconds after leaving your chest. You sent him a tense smile, the cold air starting to raise the hairs along your forearms now.

“I should really get to sleep now,” you said, breaking the silence.

You watched as his face fell, the change so miniscule it was almost hard to catch. It looked like there was something certainly going on behind his eyes, something you caught even from ten feet away. There was a sadness that was steadily growing on his face as he nodded solemnly at your words. Megan’s words about Michael possibly not wanting to stay in that house suddenly ran through your mind again and you found yourself wondering if that had something to do with why he looked so dejected. And maybe why he’d continued to talk to you so much this evening.

He was lonely, you realized. And maybe something more than that, too.

“I uh, I’ll let ya get to it then,” he said. “It was nice meeting ya.”

He’d spoken just loud enough for you to barely catch his words. Something stirred in your chest, a desire to somehow bridge the space between the pair of you and ease that pain written on his face. But you weren’t sure why you felt that way.

No, you were not going to examine that thought any further.

“Goodnight, Michael,” you replied, ending the conversation.

“G’night Grace,” he said.

Slipping back inside the bedroom, your hands reached up and grabbed the window. While you slowly slid it back down, your eyes were locked on Michael across from you practically mirroring your actions. Both of your windows closed almost simultaneously. Reaching out for the curtain with your right hand, you slowly began to draw it close, pausing just long enough to send him a final, slightly awkward wave. He smiled just a little, his own hand raising just a bit to wave back. You closed the curtains the rest of the way before you finished getting ready for bed.

Though when you finally curled up in your bed a few minutes later, tired and ready to drift to sleep, you found that you couldn’t shake the complexity and depth of what was hidden in Michael’s eyes from your mind.

#michael kinsella x female reader #michael kinsella x you #michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella #michael kinsella fic #kin amc

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fictional-library-tournament · 5 months

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Prelims round 1, poll 16

Propaganda

The Narrator's Library, The Tatami Galaxy:

In the penultimate episode of Tatami Galaxy, the unnamed narrator/protagonist "Watashi" gets trapped in an endless repeat of his student 4½ Tatami room. Opening the window or the door just lands him in another identical version of his apartment. However, after exploring room after room, he realises that the content of his bookshelf changes a little on each iteration. Each bookshelf contains the books the narrator has bought over the past two years, but some of these narrators have lived very different lives, and as such read different books.

This library potentially contains every book he would ever want to read, and may serve as a self-portrait, but it's also just a mouldy IKEA bookshelf repeated times infinity. But as those versions of himself may have led wildly different lives over the past two years, and all of them including him are self-hating failures, will he like any of them?

Magic School library, Charmed (1998-2006):

It is the single most comprehensive resource of magical information in the world and even contains books on things that everyone thought didn’t really exist or things that everyone thought had gone extinct or were long forgotten. If you have a magic question you will find a book that contains the answer here (also a few books that will swallow you and make you take part in the narrative or that will spit out people that cause problems (although this is normally bc a student was messing around)). Oh except for time travel. It has shit resources on time travel. You could find more information googling in the early 2000s :)

Rigsarkivet aka The Danish National Archives, The Pyrus Series:

Real world archives might be a bit dry and dusty, but Ri(g)sarkivet is in this case the one from the Danish Christmas Calendar tv shows collectively known as the Pyrus series. The archive itself holds a collection of books and other items from Danish history, but what sets this archive apart is the staff - the human staff, of course, is quite competent, but the archive is also home and workplace for a small group of nisser - Christmas elves - including the respectable archivist Gyldengrød and his rascal of an apprentice Pyrus. In their work of studying Danish history and history more generally (and saving Christmas every second year for a while in the 90s) they routinely employ magic - magic allowing them to jump into books and thus experience both historical events and works of fiction (and the odd computer game) from the inside; and magic to draw people out of the books. If you want to go visit vikings at their Yule feast or a medieval Lucia dance, or if you want to have a chat with Hans Christian Andersen himself? This is the place for you. Despite its appalling lack of rice. (Also, the series is the only place I've ever found a song offering a fullblown musical tribute to the very concept of cataloguing: https://youtu.be/eSQx7fvxhpg?si=O9NhKCm36oy_yxMs )

Vault of Knowledge, Sky: Children of the Light:

It's ancient. It's magical. Its employees are all ghosts. There's so much information here and all translations have been lost

The Library, Oneshot (2016 RPG by Nightmargin et al):

One of the last strongholds of society and a safe haven as the world begins collapsing into itself, the Library is located in the aptly-named Refuge within the world of Oneshot. Here, the player learns more about the mysterious Author, whose works have been dogging the entire playthrough and are crucial to understand in order to finish the game. Player meets George here, the enigmatic head librarian with a dice for a head who has six distinct personalities, one of which will be encountered depending on RNG. George will translate the Author's books, lending the knowledge needed to progress the plot.

Later on, various dwellers of the Refuge (shopkeepers, children, vendors, and more) will, as it says on the tin, take refuge in the Library when their city begins to be unhabitable as they wait for the fate of the world to unfold.

Archives of Magic, Cookie Run: Kingdom:

This was once a library housing all the knowledge of the greatest wizards in the land. While there's still a librarian maintaining it, the wizards have been gone for a long time - but there are still secrets to find within its walls, for those who can make their way inside.

#fictional libraries #tumblr tournament #archives #books & libraries #fictional archives #libraries #tumblr polls #poll #sky cotl #sky children of the light #thatskygame #cookie run

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waywardsummoner46 · 2 years

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Eternity: Prologue

Pairing: Dark!Morpheus x (?)Reader

Summary: You should’ve known that running from your past would be your downfall… you just never would’ve imagined it’d land you right into the waiting arms of an Endless, one that’s been searching for you for eons. he may be trapped for now, but your new job at Fawny Rig may just be the solution for that. Heed the warnings: you took something from him and now he must consume you for himself…

Word Count: 619

Warnings: mind manipulation/control, possessive and obsessive behaviour, more to added with more chapters

A/N: I need to quit starting new series when I haven’t even finished one yet but here we are. This will progressively get darker and more intense as more chapters are written so beware. As always, I hope you’re alright and let me know what you think!

Strolling through a forest this late at night seemed to be a very bad idea… to most.

To you, on the other hand, you thrived and revelled in the peace of the night and mystery of the forest. It had become your safe haven ever since… well, no need to dwell on it.

The crunch of the leaves underneath your bare feet and the sound of your quiet breath were what echoed throughout the otherwise quiet night. Your only audience being the nature encompassing you and the stars that gazed down on you.

You continued to walk calmly through the trees, only stopping once you’d found a wide enough perch for you to mirror the stars’ inquisitive gaze. How does one describe the stars? There’s too much to say; you can’t decide to focus on their intricate beauty or their intense shine in the night sky.

After a while of merely admiring the stars, you heard the caw of a bird and your head darted in its direction. “Hello, little raven,” you whispered to it. The bird cawed once more.

“Care to join me?”

The raven shuffled closer to you tentatively, almost as though it was afraid of you - something you had to remedy immediately. “There’s no need to be frightened, little one. I won’t hurt you, come, sit on my shoulder.”

Obliging you, the bird carefully flew to your shoulder and curled its feet into your shoulder, appreciative of their sharpness.

Silence once again sat heavily through the night, a welcome, blanketed atmosphere. Just you and the raven and the stars.

… It began as a small, nagging feeling. Like an itch, ever persistent yet never in reach to dispel. Then it grew into something more, something akin to shivers running up and down your spine and when the feeling reached its climax, it was too late.

You finally understood why the stars felt like they were gazing down at you: they were. Eyes the size of planets dominated the skylight.

Then the stars started to move. To shrink into a constellation of a man who now stood in front of you. His pale hand was outstretched from his long, black, rich robes and his handsome and stern features were drawn into an intense look… a look that was directed at you.

The realisation that you could be in danger beyond your comprehension is what inspired you to do it. Stupid though it may be, you too cautious steps towards the ethereal being in front of you with your own hand waiting to touch his.

When your fingers nearly grazed his, he raised his head minimally and a delicate eyebrow rose song with the anxious parting of his lips. What would happen when you touched his hand? What did he want? Who was he?

You were in some sort of a trance. Indistinguishable whispers overwhelmed your hearing and the hand in front of you drew you in for an unknown reason. The raven was now on the being’s shoulder rather than your own but something told you that he was as transfixed as you were.

“Take my hand, my love, and allow me to care for you… for eternity.”

Eternity sounded nice… you reached to finally grasp his hand and when you did-

“(Y/N)! YOU’RE LATE FOR YOUR NEW JOB!”

You jolted up and with wide eyes (and a tingling palm), whispered, “Fuck”. Fawny Rig was your only chance to get away, you can’t lose it.

After speed-running your morning routine and shouting a goodbye to your roommate, you gave one last look at your itching palm before you caught a taxi for your new future, not knowing that the danger was even closer than ever before…

#morpheus x reader #morpheus #the sandman x reader #the sandman #dream of the endless x reader #dream x reader #dark!morpheus x reader #dark!morpheus

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angelicyouth · 10 months

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Parallel ; Chapter 2

⇢ pairing: stan marsh x mccormick!reader

⇢ genre: fake dating ; hogwarts AU

⇢ synopsis: ❝Transferring to Hogwarts during your fifth year, you were excited at the prospect of all the new potential eye candy to choose from. That dream gets crushed, however, when your childhood enemy impulsively claims you as his girlfriend.❞

⇢ warning: underaged drinking

⇢ [AO3 link] ; [series masterlist] ; [previous] ; [next]

You stare in child-like wonder as you watch the snowflakes begin to gently float down from the sky, a soft giggle escaping from your upturned lips when one delicately perches itself on the tip of your frost-bitten nose. Longer fingers begin to intertwine with yours in your momentary distraction, Stan tugging your body closer to his as he begins to blow some warm air onto your joined hands.

Giving them a quick rub, he then places your interlocked fingers into the pocket of his robe as you watch with amused eyes at his unprompted chivalry. It was strange—watching the kid who used to think he could gain the memories of the shrimp he ate in his fried rice whenever you guys got Chinese food evoke butterflies like this.

He doesn't bother sparing you a glance as he speaks up, “What? I know that you have to look at yourself everyday in the mirror but you should be used to the ugliness by now to not be so mesmerized by someone with actual good looks.”

The moment is ruined as you loudly scoff, roughly trying to yank your hand away from his when his deep laughter cuts through the air at the disgusted sneer that begins to form on your lips. “I’m kidding! You look beautiful today, my love.”

Your feet clumsily stutters to a stop at the whiplash you get from the sudden compliment, Stan gently lifting your smaller hand towards his lips at the sight of vermillion quickly spreading across your cheeks. He presses a light kiss against your knuckles, slowly dragging the heated point of contact until it reaches the rapidly beating pulse on your inner wrist.

You can feel his smile on your skin as he lingers there for a moment before raising his eyes to meet yours, his voice soft at the suddenly intimate atmosphere that his actions grant. “I’m so lucky because you always do. I must’ve saved the world or something equally remarkable in my past life for whatever higher deity deemed me deserving of a girl like you.”

The ravenette shoots you a charming smirk when a group of Hufflepuff’s pass by the both of you, their high-pitched giggling snapping you out of the hypnotic hold of your pretend lover.

Ah. Fake boyfriend has to play the part in public… Right.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

“Where the hell are we going? I know your sense of direction is heavily impaired from all the times Aunt Sharon not-so-accidentally dropped you on the head as a kid, Stanley, but Honeydukes is that way.” You condescendingly say in a sickly-sweet voice when you see your safe haven steadily disappear from sight, the tall ravenette dragging you in the opposite direction.

The Gryffindor scoffs at your words, his eyes rolling as he begins to purposefully guide your body into a lamppost in retribution for your words. “Yeah? Well I’m glad that your memory is past the capacity of a fucking goldfish to remember our deal but I also promised you a date at Madam Puddifoot’s, remember?”

“You don’t actually have to take me there.” You spit back as you muster up all of your strength to pull your boyfriend’s larger form against the metal pole instead, a bunch of patrons strolling on the streets shooting the pair of you weird looks as they avoid your general vicinity.

“No shit, it’s just for appearances. Don’t worry though, I said I’d treat you out so lunch is on me.” He grits back out, your intertwined hands now painfully digging into the lamppost as you both switch your childish competition into stubbornly trying to get the other to give up and let go first.

(Neither of you win because a shopkeeper ends up yelling at the two of you for being bad for business, your rivalry repelling potential customers as it plays out at the front of their humble establishment.)

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

“What can I get started for you two?” Your waitress politely asks as Stan takes a quick moment to scan the menu, ultimately deciding on a classic once his options were laid out.

“Two orders of hot chocolate, please. No whipped cream in mine but extra for my girlfriend—she needs a little extra sugar.” The ravenette says in a tone of faux innocence as he sends you a sly look from the corner of his eyes, as if daring you to argue.

“We’ll also have a selection of finger sandwiches for two and a slice of every cake you have today.” You quickly bite out, sending your boyfriend a dirty look before looking back at the employee with a sweet expression on your face. “Oh, and a side salad for him—he’s watching his figure.”

After the last of the savory food and array of dessert that you both ordered gets placed on the tabletop in between you two, you waste no time in digging in as you happily hum around the beautiful mirage of flavors in your mouth. But your chewing comes to a stop when you catch the Gryffindor in front of you staring with a foreign expression on his face, your hand shooting out to wipe around the vicinity of your mouth for any possible crumbs.

A corner of Stan’s lips quirks up at your frantic actions before he brings a ring adorned hand up, his thumb grazing the side of your lips so lightly that its touch is almost nonexistent. You feel as if you’re in a trance when you attentively watch him bring the aforementioned finger to his own mouth, his tongue quickly darting out at the smear of frosting with his eyes alight in mirth.

“What’s wrong, McCormick?” His voice is so low, almost a whisper in its taunts when he catches sight of your slightly parted lips.

“Don’t do that shit again—I know you don’t always wash your hands after using the bathroom, nasty ass.” You force your eyes back on the abandoned confection laid in front of you, snarking the ravenette with the embarrassing admission he made when you all went to the waterpark as kids.

“Oh fuck off, dickface! Says the one who didn’t know what a thot was and cried like a bitch when you called your mom one because Cartman told you that it meant a thoughtful person.” In response to his words, you bring a booted foot backwards to gain further momentum before kicking him on the shin from underneath the table.

“Did you just call me a bitch? Are you insinuating that crying holds a negative connotation in which your sexism identifies with the female species?“ You quickly pull out your cell phone, a few customers in the shop staring at your muggle device as you obnoxiously stick it in Stan’s face.

“Come on, Marsh! Say that one more time for me on camera. It’s time the people finally got to know who you really are and cancel the shit out of you!”

A pretty pink begins to tint the Gryffindor’s cheeks at the growing attention of others as people begin to stare from out on the streets, watching the two of you from the store’s window. He tries to push your hand away, your laughter unashamedly echoing out into the room at the embarrassment you’re causing him.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, okay? Fuck, stop it!” Luckily for your boyfriend, your stomach begins to hurt from all the giggles escaping your lips as your hands lower down to wrap around your waist in a futile attempt to soothe the pain.

When your amusement finally dies down and the older teen has deemed the amount of minutes he spends giving you the silent treatment enough, Stan picks up conversation once more. “You know, I was prepared to convince you more in helping me win back Wendy. I figured you’d fight for her after how upset you were that I ruined her attempt to ask you out.”

“You saying that she’s your ex is enough for me to not be interested. The fuck is she thinking if she liked you enough to be your girlfriend? That’s all the information I need to know that her taste is utter fucking trash.”

“Fuck you! You’re dating me right now, dumbass!”

“Yeah, as your pretend girlfriend! Don’t get it twisted, Marsh. I know its hard but it’d be messy as fuck if you fell for my irresistably good looks and charm. Let’s not forget that this is fake and the only way you’d get me to date your ass.” Your snark around a bite of cake, your head soon lifting up from the treat you were nibbling on when your companion doesn't say a word back after a few seconds.

Your eyes slightly widen when you see the clenched jaw of the ravenette sitting in front of you and the dark look in his cerulean eyes, confusion sweeping through your body at the unknown expression on his face. He doesn’t break eye contact with you as his larger hand reaches out to take hold of your lifted wrist, slowly guiding your fork into his mouth as he begins to wrap his lips around the baked dessert propped up on the utensil.

It's almost hypnotic as your eyes slightly lower to watch as his throat shifts to swallow, your breath slightly hitching when you see his tongue dart out to leisurely lick the icing clean off of the fork. Once the utensil is rid of the sugary concoction, he lowers it back down on the plate to grab another piece before offering you a bite.

You obediently open your mouth as the sweetness overtakes your senses, the ravenette watching before his eyes drop down to your lips once more. Figuring that you probably got something around your mouth again, you compliantly lean your body forward to get cleaned when you see his hand begin to reach out towards your face.

However, his fingers gently caress the side of your cheek as they guide your head even closer to his, the Gryffindor holding eye contact with you for a charged second as the space between you two begins to diminish. There’s a questioning look in your eyes as a heated moment passes by, an attractive smirk all you can see before he closes the distance to languidly drag his tongue against your lips.

When your breath hitches in surprise, you’re rewarded with a handsome smile before he dives back in and connects his lips with yours. You’re not granted even a second to register what’s happening before his mouth fluidly moves against your own, your head beginning to get light from the overload of sensations you’re suddenly feeling right now.

The way the hand caressing your face gets firmer as you become increasingly pliant in his touch, his teasing made apparent even now as he draws out each movement for as long as possible—biting and licking your lips in a way that leaves you wanting more. Every kiss lights a fire in its wake, heating up your body and generating an excited thrum with each goosebump he elicits.

Your head begins to spin as you become steadily aware of every point of contact between the two of you, the way his tongue feverishly works against yours and coaxes it into a familiar battle of domination. His teeth begins to tug on your lower lip, a whine involuntarily escaping your rappidly heaving mouth as you can just feel the smirk forming on his own.

He keeps his face close to yours when you reluctantly part, your quick breaths mingling with one another as your lungs desperately take reprieve at your separation. Your voice is close to a whisper in the otherwise loud store as you press your forehead against his, “What was that for?”

“... Wendy was watching.” His azure eyes languidly scan over your wrecked form, a lazy smile accompanying the smug expression on his face before he cuts off your response with another kiss.

When you leave the shop later on, you can’t help but to notice that you don’t see your boyfriend’s ex seated anywhere.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

“Why the fuck is it so cold? You’d think growing up in South Park all my life would’ve prepared me for this shit but my balls are as shriveled as the raisins Tolkien puts in his oatmeal.” Decked out from head to toe in full winter apparel, Kenny can’t see the disgusted expression forming on Kyle’s scarf-hidden face.

“Hey, Butters. Does the front of my pants look less full? I don’t want the ladies to think—”

“Shut the fuck up!” You instinctively dodge the hand that angrily shoots out across the front of your face, the ushanka wearing teen roughly grabbing onto your elder brother’s scarf in an attempt to asphyxiate him for his blatant vulgarness.

Slender fingers gently settle themselves around the earmuffs you wear, Tweek making sure that your ears are fully protected from the frosted winds invoking goosebumps to run along your arms. You offer him an affectionate smile at his constantly caring virtue, the grin being returned against the skin of your forehead from the fond peck he gives you as you burrow your pink nose into your knitted scarf.

“It’s not even a Slytherin match, I don’t know why the fuck we have to suffer in the cold just to watch Clyde be a fucking simp and get distracted by the whores in the stands.” Cartman grouchily mutters, his mitted hands curled around a can of diet mountain dew as if the cold beverage were a mug of hot chocolate to warm him up.

“It’s common courtesy!” Butters enthusiastically pipes up, his arms wrapped around one of yours to further generate some heat between the two of you. Resting against his legs on the floor of the stand you're seated at is a hand-made poster that the blonde took the time to write out and decorate to verbalize the support he has for his friends currently playing.

“Well I’m here just to watch Gryffindor eat shit and lose.” Craig mumbles as he concentrates on the calls being hollered out from across the pitch, the game quickly becoming intense as Gryffindor and Ravenclaw score simultaneous amounts of points.

Your fellow Slytherin’s visage is as expressionless as ever but growing up with him, you can see the little spark of competitiveness flashing through his emerald orbs and the slight quirk to his lips that indicates interest. A giggle slips out of your throat, deeply endeared to see your future brother-in-law keeping up his childhood rivalry with your boyfriend.

At the ravenette’s words, Kenny unceremoniously shoves an indignant Kyle out of the way so that his hands can reach towards his face. Streaks of blue follow his fingers as he smears lines of paint across Craig’s cheeks, a large grin adorning your brother’s features.

“Well, aren’t you just the Ravenclaw dickrider?” He smugly inspects his work as the Slytherin rolls his eyes, his nose scrunching up as he waits for the uncomfortably wet mixture on his skin to dry.

Your brother then turns to you once he deems it satisfactory, his unmarked hand holding a small tub of paint. “Want some, N/N?”

Obediently leaning your face forward to allow him the same treatment he did with Craig, your brother annoyingly pulls his colored concoction away at the last moment with a mischievous expression crossing his features. “Or do you want to show some support for your boyfriend, Stan? Kyle, why don’t you turn this red so that—”

Tweek yelps as your whole body dives over his to wrap your hands around Kenny’s neck, the older blonde manically laughing as your two other brothers try desperately to yank you back into your seat. It takes Tolkien joining in to bring your angered self to give up your plans at first-degree murder, a pout adorning your face as Kyle pats your head in comfort.

Although Tolkien and Kyle were Ravenclaws, their interests were more aligned with their academics and of other extracurricular activities (the redhead kept up with his childhood passion in the muggle sport of basketball and the ravenette thoroughly enjoyed music, playing instruments like the bass guitar). The two aforementioned and Butters always attended the respective group member’s Quidditch games, your personal cheerleaders despite not playing the sport.

Focusing back on the game, your eyes unconsciously searches for Gyffindor’s seeker until crystal blue meets your own. You begin to fight off a blush when Stan takes the time to lift a hand up to leisurely wave at you, a lazy smirk on his face as his eyes possessively zone in on his larger robe drowning your smaller figure—at the way his house colors beautifully complimented the undertones of your skin and hair.

Kenny begins to obnoxiously make loud kissing noises when he notices your wordless interaction, your boyfriend’s grin growing wider when his team captain admonishes him for not paying any attention to the possible whereabouts of the Golden Snitch. You count your lucky stars at the fact that your knitted scarf hides the giddy smile stretching across your already blushing face, the slight feeling of breathlessness causing an unfamiliar sensation in your stomach.

“Go, Ravenclaw! Beat Gryffindor’s ass so that Slytherin can fuck you up at the finals!” Cartman begins to screech, the rest of you snickering at his version of… support.

“Have it all figured out, don’t you, fat boy?” Kyle snorts as the side of stands filled with red and their lion-shaped balloon sends nasty glares at your group. None of you pay them any mind, however, having grown up used to the unpleasant reactions your friends often evoke for their dumbassery all your life.

“Stan sees the Snitch!” Tolkien abruptly shouts, his body straightening up from his perched position on the bench as you all jump to immediate attention at his words.

The aforementioned seeker is a blur of red and gold as he zooms down the pitch, your boyfriend’s hands tightly clenched around his broom and his body leaning forward to gain further traction. Your eyes widen in amazement as he effortlessly swerves around both Gryffindor and Ravenclaw players alike in his pursuit of the tiny ball, the other team’s seeker belatedly noticing and starting to fly after him.

“For fuck’s sake, Ravenclaw is even shittier than I thought.” Cartman grumbles in vehement disgust, his larger body slumping down in defeat as he begins to eat his woes away with a pack of snacky cakes.

Just as Stan approaches where the group of you are seated, you anxiously watch with bated breaths as his flying form rapidly crosses over your positions. Despite the fact that he’s chasing after the Golden fucking Snitch, the ravenette finds the time to slow down just the tiniest bit to catch your eye.

And in his theatrically obnoxious Marsh fashion (as he’s been in publicly displaying his love and affection for you), your boyfriend cockily yells out for everyone in the pitch to hear, “This one’s for you, N/N!”

There’s a smug grin on his face as he hurtles down the stadium, his hands stretching forward towards the fluttering globe–

“Marsh got the Snitch!” The commentator loudly announces into the microphone over the roar of cheering students, the blush on your cheeks making its permanent residence on your face.

Your friends all look at one another in a mixture of expressions, ranging from wide eyes and slightly dropped mouths or snickering smirks at the bold declaration of love. You don’t take notice of any of them—you can’t—not when your eyes are mesmerized at the sight of your boyfriend spinning around in mid-air to triumphantly hold out the Snitch for all of Hogwarts to see, his own eyes locked with yours.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

Your brother’s legs lay on either side of your waist as twitchy fingers begin to clumsily weave your hair into two french braids, the both of you lounging on the deep blue of the linen that covers the bed. Butters lays on his belly in front of you with his legs leisurely swinging back and forth in the air, his two hands cradling his face as he happily hums and reads a muggle teen-gossip magazine that your mom regularly sends to him.

"Loo, loo, loo—"

“I can’t fucking concentrate if you keep humming out of tune like that!” Kenny angrily shouts from his position on the floor, his eyes never leaving the parchment paper in front of him as he rushes to write out five scrolls worth of Transfiguration homework.

Before anyone can make a scathing retort back in typical sibling banter, the fireplace located at the end of the bedroom ignites in a colorful assortment of neon green flames. The fluorescent lights steadily flicker away to reveal the towering frame of Craig, the Slytherin using the Floo Network to sneak into the Ravenclaw tower past curfew.

“Hey! It’s our boyfriend!” Your eldest sibling and you annoyingly yell out in synchronization, the ravenette tiredly rolling his eyes as he steps into the dorm and dusts the remnants of ashes lingering on his robes.

You all snicker at the reaction your obnoxious teasing always elicits, Tweek sending an apologetic smile to his significant other as he continues weaving your hair together. The reason for this long-running joke is as follows:

If the stoic teen wanted to surprise his lover with ice cream, then he’d better have four to bring for all of you (lest he wants his boyfriend to have a few bites while the rest of his annoying siblings eat the rest of it). If he discreetly invited the blonde for a romantic night out to the movies, he can only drag his feet in grumpy defeat to the ticket counter when he sees that all three of his boyfriend’s siblings have tagged along despite it being a date.

He didn't know that asking Tweek to be his boyfriend would entail him getting into a relationship with three additional people but here he was—tired beyond his years and with a noticeably lighter wallet.

“Fuck off, dipshits.” Craig irritatingly mumbles as he dives headfirst into the silk-covered pillows decorating the head of Kyle’s bed, a long groan monotonously being drawn out from the teen after suffering in detention.

The red-headed Ravenclaw was still off doing his duties and patrolling the halls of Hogwarts while the rest of you took advantage of the private dorm room that prefects were granted, invading the space as if it were your own. You snort around the sweetness of the lollipop in your mouth, your lips wrapped around the blue raspberry-flavored treat as you watch the fireplace ignite once again.

You all hear Clyde’s obnoxious whooping before seeing him appear with his arms raised above his nest of brown hair, his hands brandishing bottles of Blishen’s firewhiskey and Dragon Barrel brandy. He gets roughly pushed out of the way by Tolkien, the Ravenclaw rubbing his temples in annoyance at the already loud noises coming out of the Gryffindor despite being sober.

You attempt to hop up and join the brunette in his excitement but a quick tug on your blonde locks has you pouting as Tweek continues to braid your hair. But when your brother finishes his task at hand, you’re quick to join the makeshift circle beginning to form on the floor as the rest of the boys steadily begin to join the room via Floo.

You’re all chatting with one another when the door behind you opens, the rest of the boys hollering out loud as the man of the hour finally joins, the guys rowdily congratulating him for securing Gryffindor a place to compete for the house cup. You keep your body facing away from the newest members joining, a snicker escaping from your mouth when you hear Kyle heaving out a deep sigh before mumbling the incantation to magically erect a barrier around the room so that the other students in the tower couldn’t hear your late-night festivities.

You slightly jolt in surprise when someone suddenly settles themself behind your seated form, your body getting pressed against a hard chest as you feel the vibrations of your boyfriend deeply chuckling behind you. You slightly turn your head to send him a pout for his teasing, a discreet hand going to pinch him on the thigh in greeting as you internally roll your eyes.

He quirks an eyebrow at you in return, his muscular arms wrapping around your waist to forcibly place you on his lap with an admittedly handsome smirk adorning his face. But before you can say anything, Cartman administers a round of shots and loudly prompts a toast within the group to celebrate the start of a shitfaced night.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

“Hey. How’s my pretty girl doing?” Stan’s voice is low as he speaks to you from behind, a puff of air accompanying every word leaving his mouth and softly hitting the shell of your ear.

You feel his large hands reach underneath your uniformed button-up, his cool fingers lightly skimming themselves against the bare expanse of skin he has access to. Your lips slightly part at the sensation, the rings adorning his fingers eliciting a trail of goosebumps to arise at the difference in temperature due to your alcohol induced warmth.

“Hmm?” The deep baritone of his voice further prompts you to answer when a beat of silence stretches on between the both of you for too long, the tone all too-knowing and annoyingly confident.

Your head slightly turns from its position at the front of his shoulder to look at the teasing expression on his face, every hue in his sapphire eyes becoming more apparent when they come into contact with your drunkenly cloudy ones. You can’t help but to notice that the distance between your faces is miniscule, the small space slowly diminishing until you can feel your breaths begin to mingle with one another.

The pungent smell of alcohol is prominent between the two of you, lightly sweetened by the hickory scent of the cinnamon firewhiskey you both drank. There’s a small whiff of blue-raspberry from the little treat you indulged in earlier and a smell so comforting, something so innately Stan that you can’t help the way its scent relaxes your muscles even further and makes you feel at home.

It’s confusing—this rivalry you have always had and this faux relationship the ravenette has suddenly proposed. You can’t help but to think to yourself: has Stan always been this handsome?

With the way the amber hues of the fireplace further accentuates the features on his face, the warmth of the fluorescents hugging the slope of his cute nose and the pretty pink coloring his plump lips. Your eyes greedily drink in the way the raven locks of his hair falls perfectly against his forehead, the dark tresses complimenting the slight tan on his honey skin from the time spent out in the sun to polish his already superior Quidditch skills.

You don't realize that your eyes have started to close until you feel your eyelashes lightly flutter against the skin on your cheeks, a pair of soft lips coming into contact with your own. Your lips begin to quirk up at the sudden wave of happiness you feel when you finally realize what you’ve been missing when your friends talk about love and relationships with the way Stan kisses you—so soft and sure, like you're the only thing that matters in the world. In his world.

The way he slots your lips together has no ounce of hesitation, it’s gentle and patient—like this is something you’ve both been doing forever with one another and like it's just something that naturally belongs in this universe. Like the way people have readily accepted the fact that the sky is blue and that grass is green with no further question, his loving embrace makes you feel like there is no other place for your lips to be but here.

But when your lips part, you can’t help but to think about how this all isn’t real. That this thing happening between the two of you is all because he loves another girl, that he still wants her after all those years.

The startling realization feels like a bucket of ice cold water drenching your whole entire body, the suddenly intrusive thoughts quickly bringing your mind to clarity as it needlessly taunts you. Your internal depreciation sobers you up, your teeth harshly biting down onto your lips to invoke the metallic taste of copper in an effort to stop the thin film of tears that begin to form from trailing down your cheeks.

The only way you can get this love is if it’s fake, Y/N.

#south park #south park x reader #stan marsh x reader #stan marsh #south park fanfiction #lalawrites

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