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itsswritten · 14 days

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teeny tiny

Pairing: Fairy reader x Azriel

Word Count: 2.6K

Summary: Azriel practices dwindling with you. (Just some fluff, mutual pining, pre bond snapping)

Wings Universe - read more from this couple here.

Azriel was watching you intently, a soft smile spread on his lips as his gaze danced across your expression. You were so passionate when you spoke about your work– your duty as a fairy.

A stark difference to how he felt about being an Illyrian.

But knowing you now for only a year, you had softened that perspective he had for his own heritage. Purely by how dedicated you were to yours, and how you lit up whenever you got to speak about it. Naturally, when getting to know the IC you had wanted to learn everything about the Illyrians, everything about the sisters, about Amren. Every finer detail.

That warm nature of yours, got even the most reserved opening themselves up to you. You were always genuinely interested too, mesmerised in the differences and similarities you found among your new friends. You would never scrimp on compliments either, lovely words rolling off your tongue in awe when Cassian had explained some Illyrian lore. You even went as far to admit that you’d always thought the dark winged fae looked very cool and fierce.

Azriel could vividly remember the heat filling your cheeks one evening at Rita’s when you’d admitted that, the faerie wine offering you some liquid courage. The comment had gone straight to Cassian’s head, prancing round Rita’s flexing in front of Nesta with a stealthy look, posing for her. “Look how fierce I look, Nes,” Nesta only rolled her eyes.

Azriel, though, had kept that comment. Tucked it away in the corner of his mind that he saved purely for you. A space filled with compliments from you, mentions of the things you loved, or observations of when he thought you looked especially beautiful– which truly was everyday. That corner of his mind was slowly growing by the day, bit by bit consuming him more and more. But he didn’t mind. For every new area you occupied in his consciousness, it replaced something dark instead. Those nightmares became few and far between after you entered his life, and he felt lighter, brighter.

A mark that could only be left by a radiant individual– you.

Ever since he’d met you, he was absolutely smitten. There was a magnetic charge between you both, that just couldn’t keep him away. He was like a moth to a light, fluttering so dangerously close that if he wasn’t careful he might just burn.

But he couldn’t stop. Despite the risk of it all, the risk of you burning his desires down. The obvious rejection you would undoubtedly give him if his feelings ever became known. So he settled for friendship, in fact savoured in it. He welcomed the friendly banter and familiar touches you so kindly offered him, but sometimes he dared to imagine…selfishly letting himself wonder, if he was to confess, would it really all go up in flames?…or would a warm glow await him instead.

Azriel began to look for the good parts of his own culture, an excuse to be able to share something with you. Little anecdotes of younger years with his brothers, the plants that grew in the harsh terrain of Ramiel, and what creatures may lurk in those mountains. Something Azriel noticed had piqued your interest.

He found you numerous times after that in the library with Nesta and Gwyn, looking through bestiaries and field journals. Your commitment to the land and its creatures never wavering. You had found old scriptures, thousands of years old, of rare creatures that roamed the Illyrian land. Feline-like beasts that apparently once lived among Illyrians as their companions, a familiar of sorts. You had practically barged into Azriel’s room one evening when you had unearthed this new information, kneeled on his bed sharing this new discovery word for word as you read the translated version Gwyn had given you.

“We’ll have to go look for them Az,” You had beamed, “It’ll be like an adventure, and well I could write it off as work too seeing as technically this falls under my jurisdiction.”

Azriel had never cared much for his own culture and myths, actually, had rather hated every aspect of it. But somehow, watching you find the beauty between the cracks changed something in him. Over time the dismal opinion he had of Illyrians and that part of himself, paired with the progression in the camps had made a slight difference.

Today though, today, you were sharing even more of your world.

“So I thought, you know with you already being able to winnow you would grasp this the easiest” you smiled at Az.

You had brought him to the edge of one of the night court meadows you usually worked at. Elain had asked to join you on a day's work for the spring season, once confessing she wished the cauldron had turned her into a fairy just like you. You had told her she was perfect the way she was, exactly who she was supposed to be, and promised her anyone of any kind was welcome in the meadows.

What was supposed to be a fun girls day with Elain had quickly snowballed into a field trip, the rest of the inner circle adamant they had to come too. But if your friends couldn’t master the art of dwindling then they would not be permitted in the meadows. Rhys and Feyre were fine, that unlimited pot of power they both possessed actually meant you’d caught them several months ago, rolling around in a flower enjoying some quality time together. You’re not sure who was more embarrassed, yourself or Feyre when Rhys clumsily fell out of a flower bell stark naked covered in pollen.

Before the others would be allowed to cross the threshold of the meadows you would need to teach them first.

“Dwindling is a lot like winnowing, how you move yourself to a different space. Or even how your shadows move you through space. It’s essentially the same, but it’s the space within you that’s moving…well smaller.”

Your hands had been spread wide in your explanation, bringing them closer together as if your movement were perfectly representing how it worked. Your brows furrowed though, as Azriel looked at you with a soft dazed expression. Almost glassy eyed with a dumb smile on his mouth.

“Are you even listening to me Az?” Your tone felt stern leaving your lips. A little huff following after, that got his shadows moving in a giddy manner. It wasn’t just Azriel that found you utterly adorable, but his shadows too had a hard time hiding how your expressions caused a stir in them.

How they basked in your laughter, grew agitated in your discomfort or selfishly, liked to relish in your charming pouts.

Azriel quickly shook his head, as if shaking himself from the daze you so often ensnared him in, “I’m always listening,” he promised.

You rolled your bottom lip through your teeth gently, pausing for a moment to take in his words. How it had struck a ripple through your body, that often created butterflies in your stomach. Glancing up through your lashes you took your friend in, his large strong frame towering over you, never in an intimidating way. No, his presence, however daunting to others, always filled you with safety and comfort you hadn’t felt around many. And there were those beautiful hazel eyes that often reminded you of the sunrise after you’d worked the night shift. Golden rays breaking through the midnight blanket, spilling hazel threads into petals of blue.

Maybe one day you would tell him how when the sky filled with ribbons of gold and sapphire, that you only thought of him.

Quickly you stopped yourself from falling into your own daze, remembering his passing words.

I’m always listening.

That he was. So attentive, so kind, you’re not sure what you did to deserve the friendship of the Shadowsinger. You continued on, brushing over how genuine his words sounded. Rummaging around in your bag you pulled out a pouch of fairy dust.

“This amplifies your power, makes it easier to shrink. Should also help with the nausea,” you muttered, now choosing to ignore the way his eyes seemed to drink you up.

It was getting increasingly hard to disregard the effect the Shadowsinger had on you. He was so beautiful, so pretty– in that rugged Illyrian way. And he was very thoughtful too, and there was the way he said things to you sometimes that made it hard not to assume it meant more. Every word felt like a whispered kiss or unspoken promise, that you found yourself at times hoping, and daydreaming that perhaps it did mean something deeper.

Sprinkling the dust over Azriel, his nose scrunched a little at the scent. So familiar, he realised it reminded him of you. That lingering scent of fairy dust was always on you, mixed with vanilla and hints of honey, an underlying breeze of peonies. Your scent alone was enough to enchant him, enough to know he would be dreaming of you again tonight. His consciousness would slip him into a blissful haze of what it would be like to envelope himself in the crook of your neck and laze in your aroma.

Gently you took his hands into yours, his ragged hands engulfing your own.

Azriel couldn’t help notice the stark contrast. How perfect and soft you were, delicate and light. He was rough and weathered around the edges, hardened by war and conflict. A gentle squeeze from you pulled him from his thoughts, realising how close you were now, he would only have to lean down slightly to bridge the gap between you. So close he could press his lips to top of your head and–

As if brushing that thought from his mind, his shadows moved towards you. Brushing a strand of hair from your face, while the other tendrils wove through the air in between you both like a dance.

“Are you ready Az? Remember everything I taught you?”

He nodded.

Channelling his power in the technique you had shown him, his eyes fluttered shut. Honing in on the warmth of your hands and the faint sound of the breeze. His siphons simmered a glow as vibrations of power and space moved over the sharp lines and angles of his body, retracting and restricting the space within.

The air sounded different all of a sudden.

Vibrations growing louder, rustles becoming more powerful. Slowly Azriel opened his eyes, looking down at you, standing as you were before. He questioned if he’d even managed to do it, but as he glanced up he saw the tall green vertebrae of the grass tower above. The strands gently swaying in the wind, allowing the morning sun to filter through and cast viridescent shadows across the earth.

He had done it. He had dwindled.

The air was filled with a symphony of sounds, the song of crickets and the gentle rustling of the grass in the wind. Butterflies flitted by, leaving a gentle gust of wind in their wake. They were larger than him now, and he could vividly see the intricate designs and colours that lay on their wings.

“Az? Azriel are you okay? How do you feel?”

He hadn’t even realised you were talking, not until your hand gently pressed against the side of his face. Your thumb tracing the line of his jaw, as you looked up to him in concern.

“I feel fine,” he replied, finally remembering to take a breath as your touch left him.

“No nausea? You looked a little peaky for a moment, I was worried,”

Your remaining hand had slipped from his gentle grip, a simmer in his chest wishing it would remain. But Azriel unfurled his wings, stretching the dark membranes out, distributing his weight onto either feet to check his balance.

“Okay…” You smiled then, “This went better than I thought, you know it’s Cassian I’m most worried about. I just have a feeling he’ll sneeze himself into a giant or something,”

“Wait, is that possible?”

“No, or at least I don’t think so. But somehow I could see it happening with Cass,” You laughed. The angelic waves of your laughter pulled up the corners of his lips as he let out a chuckle.

Oh Azriel could stay in this moment forever. Just the two of you, no one else in sight for miles.The sun basking it’s glow upon you both. Your laughter faded into a comfortable silence before you closed your eyes, head tilting up towards the sun as the rays washed over your face.

Azriel thanked the Mother again for the blessings he had received since knowing you, because this moment right here– to be with you was surely one.

“Y/n…” Azriel couldn’t help breathe your name out, it barely a whisper as words he kept tucked in that corner of his mind seemed to pile into his mouth.

Gently your eyes fluttered open, your expression turning to him with a light hum in question. But before he could even untangle the mess of confessions on his tongue, a shadow loomed above.

With a slight jump, you hastily stepped back, colliding into the tough warm frame of the Shadowsinger, craning your neck up to see what had cast such a darkness.

A shadow– Azriel’s shadow.

The smokey tendril seemed to loom over you both inquisitively. It’s movements speaking of a curiosity to how its master was now so tiny.

“There’s always one,” Azriel grumbled, his hand tenderly moving to the small of your back for a moment as he stepped to your side.

Azriel crossed his arms across his chest, his expression boring on unimpressed as he glanced up at the disobedient wisp.

“You’ve got no excuse,” Azriel chastised, referring to the other shadows that had obediently followed an appropriate size to him after dwindling.

The shadow slumped a little in response, eliciting a small gasp from you at how utterly adorable you found it. As if remembering you were there the shadow turned it’s attention. Azriel’s earlier command to resize itself held no authority but it quickly slinked itself slightly smaller for you. It’s size resembled something of Azriel’s shape as it twirled around you making the layers of your dress flutter up in the wind.

“Oh my…” Your cheeks heated a rosy hue as you attempted to hold your dress down in the gust of air.

“Sorry about that,” Azriel heaved, his patience growing thin as he tried to hide his slight embarrassment at his unruly shadow.

“It’s quite alright Azriel,” you reassured him with a light chuckle, the smile on your lips easing him. The use of his full name, raising goosebumps on his skin.

It wasn’t the only thing your smile eased, the shadow, as if melting under you, softened like honey. Oozing back behind Azriel’s wings in a dazed infatuation.

“Come,” you took Azriel’s hand in yours. Pulling him gently through the blades of green. “You should settle in this size for a while, make sure everything feels okay before we return,”

Azriel watched your fingers interlock with his, the smaller wisps of his shadows winding around your joined hands. Whispering words to one another that he couldn’t hear.

He swallowed hard, once, twice taking in the view before him. Your usual pink dress dipping to the small of your back, taut flawless skin kissed under the sun as you pulled him through the green. No wings on show, though.

He wondered when you would share that part of you…if ever.

Azriel would never ask, but he hoped one day you trusted him enough.

That he would be so lucky. But as you glanced back over your shoulder, sending him a soft smile that seemed to bury itself deep into his chest. He pondered, if for only a moment, that perhaps he was lucky.

a/n: just a little instalment from your favourite couple! <3 What else do you want to see from them?? (Other than flower sex , I promise this is coming👀)

forever tags: @lilah-asteria @illyrianbitch @sleepylunarwolf @daily-dose-of-sass @milswrites @marscardigan

Wings tags: @minaethrym

#azriel x reader #acotar #wings universe #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #acotar azriel #acotar fanfiction #angst #acotar series #azriel shadowsinger #fairy x azriel #azriel x fairy #fairy reader x azriel

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comradekatara · 3 months

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Your atla analysis is the best so I wanted to ask your opinion on something I've found the fandom fairly divided on - what did you think of Azula's ending within the show proper? Unnecessarily cruel or a necessary tragedy? Would you say that her mental breakdown was too conveniently brought about in order to 'nerf' her for the final agni kai? Also, do you think it was 'right' for Zuko to have fought with his sister at all or would it have been better for him to seek a more humane way to end the cycle of violence?

okay so im saying this as someone who loves azula to death like she has always been one of my absolute favorite characters ever since i was a kid and i’ve always vastly preferred her to zuko and found her to be extremely compelling and eminently sympathetic. i am saying this now before the azula stans come for me. i believe in their beliefs. but i also think her downfall is perfectly executed, and putting aside all the bullshit with the comics and whatever else, it’s a really powerful conclusion to her arc. obviously that isn’t to say that she wouldn’t continue to grow and develop in a postcanon scenario (i have a whole recovery arc for her mapped out in my head, like i do believe in her Healing Journey) but from a narrative perspective, her telos is in fact very thematically satisfying.

no, she wasn’t nerfed so that they could beat her in a fight. the fact that she falls apart is what makes them feel that they can confidently take her on (although i do think in a fair fight katara could win anyway), but the whole point is that it’s not about winning or losing in combat. the whole point is that zuko and azula being pitted against each other in this gratuitous ritual of violence as the culmination of their arcs is fundamentally tragic. yes it’s a bad decision to fight her, and zuko should have chosen another path, but the whole point is that he’s flawed and can only subscribe to the logic he has spent his whole life internalizing through violence and abuse.

that’s why aang’s fight against ozai, while tragic in its own way, is also a triumph for the way in which his ideals prevail in the face of genocide, while zuko and azula’s fight is very patently tragic. there is no moment of victory or triumph. even as zuko sacrifices himself in a beautiful mirroring of “the crossroads of destiny” and as katara uses the element of her people combined with techniques across other cultures to use azula’s hubris and ideology of domination against her, it’s presented as moments of personal growth occurring within a very tragic yet inevitable situation. it was inevitable because azula had always been positioned as an extension of her father, and thus to disempower ozai also means disempowering azula, his favorite site of projection, his favorite weapon.

yeah, it does rub me the wrong way when zuko asks katara whether she’d like to help him “put azula in her place.” it’s not a kind way to talk about your abused younger sister. but it’s also important to understand that zuko doesn’t really recognize his sister’s pain, despite the fact that they obviously share a father, because he’s always assumed that she was untouchable as their perfect golden child and thus never a victim. and he’s wrong. zuko and katara expect a battle of triumph and glory, noble heroes fighting valiantly so that good may prevail over evil. but as they discover here, even more so than their previous discovery two episodes prior, a battle is not a legendary event filled with bombast and beauty until after it has been historicized. often a war is simply fought between pathetic, desperate people who see no other option but to fight.

aang’s ultimate refusal to fight despite having all the power in the world is what makes him so important as the protagonist. but katara and zuko both share a more simplistic view of morality and what it means to be good. and zuko assumes that by fighting azula, he can only be punching up, because she has always been positioned as his superior, and she (in her own words!) is a “monster.” and then azula loses, and his entire worldview shatters. joking about putting her in her place makes way for the realization that behind all her posturing and lying (to herself more than anyone) and performance and cognitive dissonance, azula has always been broken, perhaps even more than he is.

azula says “im sorry it has to end this way, brother,” to which zuko replies “no you’re not.” but i think azula is truly sorry, because in her ideal world, she wouldn’t be fighting zuko. she doesn’t actually want to kill him, as much as she claims to. she’s already reached the conclusion that zuko will only truly reach once their fight is over. she lacks a support system, and she needs one, desperately. if she could somehow get her family back, do everything differently, less afraid of the consequences, she would. she’s smirking, she sounds almost facetious, but really, she is sorry. as of this moment, she really doesn’t want it to end this way. but zuko cannot accept that, because in his mind, azula is evil. azula has no soul nor feeling. azula always lies.

her breakdown doesn’t come out of nowhere, either. it’s precipitated by everyone she has ever cared about betraying her. first zuko betrays her, then mai, then ty lee, and then ozai — the person she has staked her entire identity to and to whom she has pledged her undying loyalty and obedience, become nothing more than a vessel for his whims — discards her because she had the audacity to care about someone other than him. what i don’t think zuko realizes, and perhaps will never realize, is that azula betrayed ozai by bringing zuko back home. he was not supposed to be brought back with honor and with glory. azula specifically orchestrated the fight in the catacombs to motivate him to join her, and it’s not because she’s some cruel sadistic monster who wanted to separate a poor innocent soft uwu bean from his loving uncle, it’s because she genuinely believes that she’s doing what’s best for him. she believes that their uncle is a traitor and a bad influence, and she believes that bringing zuko home with his honor “restored” is an act of love. to her it is.

yes, she claims that she was actually just manipulating him so that she wouldn’t have to take the fall if the avatar was actually alive, but also, she’s clearly just covering her own ass. she didn’t know about the spirit water, and only started improvising when zuko started showing hesitation. but even if she was only using zuko, then that was an insane risk to take, because either way she was lying directly to ozai’s face. and zuko admits it to ozai while simultaneously committing treason, so of course ozai would blame azula, his perfect golden child who tried to violate his decree by bringing zuko back home a prisoner at best and dead at worst, and instead found a way to restore his princehood with glory.

we only see ozai dismissing and discarding azula in the finale, but it’s clearly a tension that’s been bubbling since the day of black sun. and we know this because we do see azula falling apart before the finale. in “the boiling rock” she is betrayed by her only friends. in “the southern raiders” we see that this has taken a toll on her, that she is already somewhat unhinged. she and zuko tie in a one on one fight for the first time. and she takes down her hair as she uses her hairpin to secure herself against the edge of a cliff. unlike zuko, who is helped by his friends and allies, who has a support system. it’s a very precarious position; she’s literally on a cliff’s edge, alone, her hair down signifying her unraveling mental state. azula having her hair down signals to us an audience that she is in a position of vulnerability. she is able to mask this terrifying moment wherein she nearly plummets to her death with a triumphant smirk, but it should be evident to us all that her security is fragile here.

and the thing is, even though she’s always masked it with a smirk and perfect poise, her security has always been fragile. azula has never been safe. azula’s breakdown is simply the culmination of her realization that no matter how hard she tries, she will never be ozai’s perfect weapon, because she is a human being. she is a child, no less. and there is no one in her entire life who loves her for nothing. zuko has iroh, who affirms to him that he could never be angry with zuko, that all he wants is simply what is best for zuko. but azula doesn’t have unconditional support in her life. she doesn’t even have support.

everyone she ever thought she could trust has betrayed her, and so she yells that trust is for fools. because she feels like a fool. of course fear is the only way; it’s what kept her in line all these years. azula is someone who is ruled by fear, and who is broken by the recognition that fear isn’t enough. her downfall is necessarily tragic because her worldview is wrong. the imperialist logic of terror as a tool for domination is her own undoing, just as ozai’s undoing is losing the weapon he has staked his national identity to. it’s a battle of ideals. aang v ozai: pacifism v imperialism. katara and zuko v azula: love and support v fear and isolation.

zuko is unfair to azula, it’s true. he tries to fight her even as he can clearly recognize that “she’s slipping.” instead of trying to help his little sister, he uses that weakness to his advantage, tries to exploit her pain so that he can finally, for the first time ever, beat her in a fight. it’s cruel, but it’s also how siblings act. especially considering the conditions under which they were raised, and how zuko has always viewed her. and in zuko’s defense, she has tried to kill him multiple times lately, both in “the boiling rock” and in “the southern raiders.” zuko is someone who gets fixated on a goal and blocks out everything else, including recognition of his surroundings or empathy for others. so of course when he’s promised to put azula in her place he’s going to exploit her weaknesses to do so. after all, isn’t exploiting his weaknesses exactly what azula does best? so he allows himself to stoop to her level, and in fact only redeems himself through his sacrifice for katara. but it is when azula is chained to the grate and zuko and katara, leaning on each other, look down and observe the sheer extent on her pain, that zuko realizes that “putting azula in her place” isn’t actually a victory. it feels really, really bad, actually.

they’re in a similar position as they were when they faced yon rha. and now it is zuko’s turn to understand that he is not a storybook hero triumphing over evil, but rather a human being, facing another human being, in a conflict that is larger than themselves. to “put someone in their place” is to imply a logic of domination, of inherent superiority, that someone has stepped out of line and must be reordered neatly into the hierarchy. but aang disputes the notion, ozai’s notion, that humanity can be classified along these lines, that there exists an ontological superiority among some and not others. so operation: putting azula in her place was always going to be flawed, even if she was performing competency the way she always does, because they’re nonetheless subscribing to her logic.

of course they should be helping azula, of course they should be reaching out to abuse victims through support instead of more violence. but first they must recognize her victimhood. first they must come to understand that they didn’t get lucky, and they didn’t dominate her because they are more “powerful,” that they weren’t “putting her in her place.” they must understand that they are not heroes fighting villains in a glorious trial by combat. that the logic of the agni kai is flawed. that they are all victims. that they are all just scared, hurt children who are still grieving their mothers.

#update: ok i readmored it 👍🏼#azula #analysis #zuko #katara #ozai #azula&zuko #azula&ozai #asks #malatilata #ugh azula is such a beautiful character….. i love her sm #her arc is so beautifully perfectly tragic #just thinking abt the mirror scene gets me sooo . distraught #this was supposed to be like 2 paragraphs lol #as is always the way . with me..

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sorcerous-caress · 8 months

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could u possibly do how companions would treat tav's kid? like in a situation where a tav had a child/younger sibling or smth. fluffy fluff all around

You know how sometimes fate aligns so that your past deeds follow you into the future? This request gave me a flashback to my old writing blog.

Companions reacting to Tav's younger sibling/child

[ bg3, fluff, several characters ]

[ Astarion, Gale, Wyll, Halsin, Karlach, Laezel, Shadowheart, Minthara ]

Astarion

What on earth is that little gremlin following you around? Just make sure that no one feeds it after midnight.

To say he's not a fan is a huge underestimation, he signed up for a camp full of hot available single adults and not a daycare. How are you expecting him to be his usual self when a pg13 warning keeps chasing you around.

Whatever, he will just ignore the goblin-like thing. He can do that, how hard can it be?

Well...actually now that some time has passed, he has to admit that the little menace is really funny at times. Especially that one time he stole Gale's books to build a book throne in the mud, Astarion swears he could still hear Gale's heart shattering into a million pieces, what a fond memory.

What? Pfff, no, he isn't getting attached. He just...well was doing some trick with a coin to make it disappear, and the kid happened to be nearby, Astarion definitely wasn't trying to impress them.

Now the thing about picking locks is that it's better to teach them young. Think of all the small places, nooks, and crannies they could fit into, bringing them some loot and actually be useful.

And since he's already bothering to do it, might as well teach them how to wield a bow. Properly wield a bow, not like how Wyll does it no, it requires elegance only an elf is capable of and Astarion is the most expert here to train them.

Did you see that? They're actually getting better. He genuinely is impressed, so much that he doesn't register the smile of pride adorning his face, the excitement in his voice as he boasts about the kid's accomplishment and how they're clearly superior than the other crotch goblins.

Gale

Ah, children, truly the future of mankind. Humanity's hope and the ones who will carry the torch after us.

He is almost giddy at the idea of having an impressionable youth to teach, to steer and to spoil rotten like he was spoiled.

Will show off magic tricks nonchalantly, he definitely has a hidden agenda in trying to make the kid a wizard. After all who is better than him, an arch wizard, to teach a new curious soul about all the wonders of the weave? No magic is too advanced, everything is possible with imagination.

If anything, kids have the best imagination, better than adults do. Which is the argument he uses when you ask him why your little one can shoot invisible fireballs now.

He would love to read to them, he has all kinds of stories about heros, past legends and fables that will guarantee them a safe and sound mind. A healthy mindest to nurture then into a good kind hearted adult.

Even when his books end up the subject of the kid's abuse kind of a lot- Gale is nothing but forgiving. Cut the kid some slack, if anything, Gale is happy they are safe and sound.

Would make special meals for the kid during dinner time a lot, bunny shaped carrot cuts or soup with a sparkly finish. He can even teach them some basic recipes, cooking is a very important life skill afterall.

Wyll

He is very experienced with kids. Feels a bit concerned for the fact they're at camp all alone and volunteers to stay behind and watch them. And no, unlike the previous two, he doesn't try to indoctrinate them into elf supremacy culture nor tactically manipulate them into being a wizard.

He just lets them be a kid, plays ball with them. Shows them how to play fetch with Scratch. Overall a very cool and laid back older brother.

He definitely takes great inspiration from his own dad and how he raised him, offers the same advice and wisdom his own father shared with him.

Shows the kid that life is so much more than it seems, nothing is truly evil and nothing is truly good. Both can be found in each other. He treats the kid with respect and doesn't pull the older than you card unless necessary.

He wants them to establish their own being, their own character and carve their own path in life.

Definitely does whatever he can to keep Mizora away from the child. That devil cannot be trusted, and even while he knows the kid is smart, he doesn't want to leave it up to fate whether Mizora tricks them into a pact or not.

Halsin

The kid adores him and all of his animal forms. Halsin indulges them a lot and changes into whatever wildshape they deem the coolest that day to play with them.

When he looks at them, he sees a seed for the future. It requires care and nurturing to grow properly, and he is willing to make this world a better place for them.

Shows them how important nature is, how we should take care of the world just like it takes care of us. How we should respect the plants and the animals, how every meal is a gift and should be treasured.

He has a very fatherly vibe to him. It comes naturally, and he doesn't even have to try. Whenever the kid feels overwhelmed or scared, it's Halsin they run up and hide behind.

Also, when they get in trouble too because they know Halsin will take their side.

And he knows the kid is using him sometimes, but he lets it slide. Takes the kid on walks a lot, helps them make friends with the nearby cat that sometimes frequents the camp.

There is a potted plant they're both growing, a small shared project between the two of them. Halsin adores the look of happiness the kid has whenever the plant sprouts a new leaf and grows taller.

They don't have to know that it was Halsin's powers keeping it alive throughout the frequent changing of their camp and consistent travelling.

Karlach

Little soldier is what she calls them.

Picks them up a lot after her engine gets fixed, let's them ride on her shoulder and hang on to her horns sometimes. Even indulges them and pretends she is a robot that they're controlling.

Sorry Astarion, she can't stop hugging you. She's a simple robot, and the overlord kid on her shoulders demanded it.

While Wyll is the cool yet dependable older sibling, Karlach is the even cooler one who's very chaotic and would help the kid in their pranks and cause trouble a lot.

Ah, what the hell kid, sure you can pick up her great flaming axe and swing it around. Actually she will use a nearby table as a shield and you should definitely try throwing it at her.

It's not that she means to be a bad influence, it's just that she is extremely indulgent. That it circles back to being a bad influence without meaning to.

They want to only eat sweets for dinner and all day? Hell yeah little soldier she wants the same. They want to do it for the rest of eternity and never eat vegetables again? Sign her the fuck up because she is ride or die.

Oh yeah, your kid/sibling can swear now, thanks to her, you're welcome.

Jaheira

Is the one feeding them the vegetables, after telling Karlach off and putting her in the timeout corner.

It's not enough that she has a gaggle of children back home, but you had to bring another one with you to the camp? Oh cub, you and your own little cub are going to be the death of her.

If Halsin thinks he can hide them behind his bear form he better think twice, Jaheira isn't below putting the both of them in line if she has to.

She demands respect, and the kid definitely ends up giving it to her, begrudgingly or not. They understand she is the true form of authority in this camp and that they better do what she says and finish their chores.

They definitely see her as a grandma. She is secretly touched if they call her that but acts unaffected. She just doesn't want to let the kid down. She has to be strict because medicine never tastes sweet.

They remind her of her own kids backhome sometimes, she does get homesick a lot more with them around.

Shadowheart

No, she isn't emo. No, she isn't goth either. What is this kid talking about? They better know that worship of lady Shar is very sacred and not a passing phase she will grow out of.

You know how kids are overly curious and always ask these intrusive questions? Shadowheart is a magnet for that.

They just go up to her ,unannounced, and tell her about the recent camp news. She sips on her wine and gives the kid a glass of grape juice while they gossip.

Yes, she is a half elf. No, she is still as capable as an elf.

Wait, what did Astarion say about her? Really? Well, kid, thanks for being a snitch now. If you'd excuse her, she has urgent business to take care of.

She sees them and wonder if this is how her childhood was supposed to be like, if this is what she was missing out on all her life. Sometimes she can't help the burning envy at the back of her throat as she watches them be showered with love and care for simply existing.

But she doesn't let the bitterness get to her, not with how the kid looks at her in awe and admiration. She vows to be at least a decent example and not disappoint them.

Laezel

If left unattended, she will start a boot camp. Come one kid, get down, and give her 40 push-ups now.

What? She is just looking out for them. How else are they supposed to join the battlefield if they have no upper body strength?

Yes, the battlefield, why do you ask? Of course, she wants them in the front lines eventually. War is the perfect environment to raise a child, to make them strong and fast. You were very smart for bringing them here with you, she has to admit.

Bah, she scoofs at Karlach and Astarion's ways. It is a danger hazard at best. The kid needs to start with training equipment and not actual weapons. Her companions' lack of braincells does surprise her sometimes.

Well...she also does mention the fact that for them to graduate, they have to actually murder someone from the camp. You know, like how she murdered half her classmates when she was still in training.

She actually...does a good job at training them safely, she evaluates their weakness and strengths and gives them advice based on it on how to improve. She looks out for their well-being and shows them the most efficient way to end a fight.

But she's only joking? Right? Right???

Uh....did anyone see Gale??

Minthara

To put it in the nicest way possible, they are terrfied of her.

She thinks it's good because any sane person should be afraid of her. Frankly, she'd be concerned for a possibility of brain damage if they weren't.

They avoid her, and she barely pats an eye over it.

Although she was always the first to act whenever they were in danger, completely beheading the enemy with her sword before they could touch a hair on the kid. Still she doesn't care for the fact the child is drenched in blood and just saw someone get murdered.

She thinks they should get over it. The sooner, the better. Life is full of murder and blood, you'd be only dooming them if you don't let them see things for how they really are.

Drow culture for raising their children is very brutal, most of them die young and even the ones who do make it alive, don't live as long as the surface elves do.

Each drow carries deep scars from childhood, both on body and mind. Minthara wasn't the exception.

She tolerates your young out of respect for you. She tolerates what she deems as disobedience and disrespect from them.

You're not sure if they'll ever stop fearing her, but you also know that you can trust her to be there for them. To not hesitate a second in saving their flesh no matter what the cost is.

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teratosubmission · 12 days

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Humanfucker here, Humans are the most underrated Monsters

I’ve always had a thing for humans. I mean, there’s a lot of physical appeal to them. They’re small and cute and have beautiful contours and big personalities but you can just overpower them at any time and rail the cuteness out of them and fuuuuck. But there’s much more to a human that I think goes underappreciated with fellow humanfuckers and the larger monsterfucker community at large.

A human has hands, soft and dexterous. It’s said that their sense of touch Is massively amplified on their fingertips. And humans are exceptionally skilled at the soft touch (They have a lot words for soft touch in their language, like stroke, pet, caress, ect, which only make sense when you realize how important it is in their culture). A slow, gentle trace down your spine or up your legs can activate nerve receptors other monsters simply cannot, and it can feel extremely pleasurable when a human is behind you gently rubbing their hands over your back. While many monsters use their strength to keep their mates from leaving, humans often rely on their soft touch, which feels so overwhelmingly pleasurable you don’t -want- to leave. If you ever wondered how a small human can wrangle such giant monsters like minotaurs or werewolves, that’s how.

And the reverse is also true, humans are the most physically sensitive creatures, with the majority of their body being highly erogenous zones. It’s as if they were evolved for lovemaking, and entire subcultures exist around the concept of sex. (EDIT – so I did some research and apparently many humans are skilled enough to practice an erotic art called Massage (muh sahj), and apparently their hands can have healing qualities to them, soothing your aching muscles and overall just feeling really fucking good. Unfortunately its best done on their own kind, since they know their own biology and are basically built to enjoy it best, but I’m hopeful there are humans that are learning on other monsters and getting good at Massage for them… God I hope so, anyway, I want to experience Massage.)

I love their voices. A human, in my opinion, has some of the most beautiful noises you could ever have the pleasure of listening to. You could be engaged in conversation with one and find yourself lulling to the beauty of their voice. You could be fucking one and listening to how cutely they moan and whimper, it functions like an aphrodisiac for their partners. Apparently they don’t actually have persuasive superpowers in sex, but I don’t think that’s right, since every time they’ve moaned for me to cum for them, I’ve burst immediately.

Unlike most monsters, humans don’t have a breeding season. They’re ready to go at any time (sometimes they may need coaxing though~, I’ll link some guides on seducing humans). Now, if you want to actually breed one of the females you’ll have to understand a bit more about their cycles, but generally speaking you can just have at it till they’re eventually impregnated.

Humans have sexual dimorphism like most other monsters, but what’s intriguing is just how wide a range that dimorphism is, and how easily its defied as well. Want a male with feminine features? An exceptionally strong masculine female? Value something in between? Or perhaps you want a gender with the opposite genitalia? There’s something for everyone, which in turn makes them one of the most accessible and popular monsters available. But like I’ve said before, there’s so much more to them than their physique.

❤️ Anyway, humans are the best monsters and I hope someday to meet one! ❤️

#human #humanfucker #terato #teratophillia #monster fucker #monster x human #monster x reader #monster #monsterfucker #nsft #humans are weird #humans are space orcs

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shiny-holographic-star · 4 months

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Sirene asteroid (1009) observations

Sagittarius Sirene people appeal to others when they're fulfilling their purpose or having a clear direction in their lives. For example, my cousin has this placement, and she's able to appeal to others when she's so sure about being a dancer, believing that she was made for that, following the direction set by her heart/intuition without questioning it.

I have this placement too, and I think people come to me a lot in search for answers, to understand themselves better since Sagittarius is all about expanding ourselves.

Sirene in the 5th house is about mesmerizing people when you're in the spotlight, being confident and letting yourself shine. Also when performing, so this is a good placement for celebrities. My cousin has this, and she grabs everyone's attention when dancing, plus her personality (5H) is very charismatic.

I also have Sirene in the 5th House, and I'm not so comfortable in the spotlight which to me comes from the Capricorn degree (10°, 22°). This brings delays and challenges when it comes to you expressing or getting used to this alluring energy. You have lessons to learn before you're able to own this energy.

A Leo degree shows that you're confident to use this energy, you were born to be seen and to shine under the spotlight! Guess who has this. Yes, my cousin 💃🏻⭐️ It's worth noting though, that she has insecurities and suffers from anxiety, but she still loves the spotlight and wants to shine.

Libra Sirene attracts people when they show a chill attitude, by wanting to make everyone feel comfortable or included, by using a soft voice and having a great sense of aesthetics. My dad, for example, uses a soft voice when he wants to be polite or liked by others, and shows a super chill attitude with my sister and I's friends. A couple of my girl friends simped for him 😷

My sister has this placement too and she's the type to try and include everyone in the conversation, plus she too softens her voice when being polite or wanting to be liked? She also has a great eye for fashion. And with her friends she appears more chill than how she really is (she's crazy, your honor - in a good way).

Jungkook from BTS has Libra Sirene and his singing voice is very soft compared to what I thought it would sound like at first.

He also has Sirene in the 9th House so he might drawn in more foreign fans than korean. This placement could indicate being alluring when you're open to learn from other cultures or expand your understanding of things. Think about ambiences like college, school, foreing countries.

Scorpio Siren could be appealing when they're intense, reserved, observant, alert. Also, when they're being toxic (controlling or uninterested) or give off that aura of bad boy. For example, one of my exes has this, and he pulled me in with little to no effort, he used to take his time replying to my messages and I waited for him, thinking about what he could be doing and wishing for his attention. 🤢

A high school friend has this placement too, and he had this air or mystery when he actually was doing nothing? He has Scorpio Sun conjunct Sirene, and he wasn't easy to get close to at first. It's like he gave off an air of "I'm on my own, don't bother me", and some girls pinned after him.

Virgo Sirene people are alluring when they keep a humble attitude, lending their attention to you and recognizing they can learn something from anyone. My grandma and two friends (a guy and a girl) sometimes would ask me for advice, to explain something to them or to give them my opinion about something, and as I reply they'd look at me with the utmost attention, not wanting to miss any detail. They look at you recognizing the value of your words and that's so wholesome, it makes you feel heard and appreciated.

Sirene in the 1st House might give a great first impression considering it's the house of beginnings. They might be the person people notice or get curious about first in a group, and nobody knows why; it's unconscious. They also might atract people when they take initiative, which movilizes or motivates others. They seem like they would do good in a leadership position, people would be drawn to listening to them (especially when they're in the energy of the sign their Sirene asteroid falls under).

For example, a Virgo Sirene in the 1st House person might drawn people in by taking iniciative and assuming the role of a leader in a humble way, paying attention to everyone's input and striving to reach their ideal.

#astrology #astro placements #astro community #astro posts #astrology observations #aesthetic #birth chart #natal chart #astro chart #sirene asteroid #sirene #anime

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whereserpentswalk · 2 months

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People don't realize how liminal it is to be a time traveler. How you don't ever really feel like you're in the time you are. Even when you're in your own time, everything is off, your coat was something you bought in interwar France, the book you're reading on the train is from a bookstore you had to visit in Victorian London, even your necklace was given to you by a Neolithic shaman, from a culture the rest of the world can never know. You find yourself acting strange even when in the present, much less in the past you have to work in.

You remember meeting a eunuch in 10th century China, and having him be one of the only people smart and observant enough to realize you were from a diffrent time. You could talk honestly with him, though still you couldn't reveal too much about your time. And it was still so strange hearing him talk casually about work and mention plotting assassinations. You're not allowed to but you still visit him sometimes.

You remember that the few times you were allowed to tell someone everything it was tragic. You knew a young woman who lived in Pompeii, who you had gotten close to, a few days before she would inevitably die. On your last day there you looked into her eyes, knowing soon they'd be stone and ash, that the beauty of her hair would be washed away by burning magma. And you hugged her, and told her that you wanted her to be safe, and told her she was wonderful and that you wanted her to be comfortable and happy. And you let her tongue know the joy of 21st century chocolate, and her eyes see the beauty of animation, knowing she deserved to have those joys, knowing it wouldn't matter soon. And you hugged her the last time, and told her she deserved happiness. And when you left without taking her it was like you were killing her yourself.

You want to take home everyone you're attached to. There's a college student you befriended in eighteen fifties Boston. And you can't help but see him try to solve problems you know humanity is centuries away from solving. And you just want to tell him. And it's not just that, the way he talked about the books and plays he likes, his sense of humor. There's so many people you want him to meet.

You feel the same way about a young woman you met on a viking age longship. She tells stories to her fellow warriors and traders, stories that will never fully get written down, stories that she tells so uniquely and so well. She has so many great ideas. You want so dearly to take her to somewhere she can share her stories, or where she can take classes with other writers, where she can be somewhere safe instead of being out at sea. She'll talk about wanting to be able to do something, or meet people, and you know you're so close to being able to take her, but you never can, unless she accidently finds out way too much then you can't.

You remember the longship that you met that young storyteller on. You were there before, two years ago for you, ten years later for the people on it. The young woman who told you stories wasn't there ten years later, you had been told why then but you only realize now, her uncle, who ran the ship, had been one of the first people to convert to Christianity in his nation. He killed her, either for not converting or for sleeping with women, you're not sure, but he killed her, and bragged about it when you met him ten years later.

You talk to the storyteller on the longship, ask her about the myths you're there to ask her about, the myths that she loves to tell. You look into her eyes knowing it's probably less then a year until her uncle takes her life. You ask her if you think that those who die of murder go to Valhalla. She tells you she hopes not, she doesn't see Valhalla as a gift but as a duty, she hopes for herself to go to Hel, where she wouldn't have to fight anymore. You slip and admit you're talking about her, telling her that you hope that's where she goes when she's killed. You hope to yourself you'll be forced to take her to the twenty first century, you're tempted even to make it worse, you want to have ruined her enough to be able to save her.

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headspace-hotel · 1 year

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facts about The Fear, after 20 years of life with her

The Fear is NOT:

an intruder, invader, or some other entity from "outside" You

inappropriate, wrong, or incorrect

a responsibility

a punishment

"irrational" or otherwise able to be understood through a relationship to "rationality"

an "inaccurate" representation of reality

The Fear IS:

an innate part of you

extra-rational—she exists outside and completely independent from "rationality" and does not respond to being judged according to that lens

self-love—her purpose is to protect you and keep you safe

self-sufficient—fear is a 100% whole, complete entity that doesn't "represent" or "reflect" something else

earnest—fear is always a 100% real experience that is exactly as it is felt, and, needing no comparison or reference to any external reality, it is not "dishonest" or "inaccurate"— it asserts a claim about only itself

subversive [not quite the word I am looking for but it will have to do]— is not necessarily beholden to social and cultural norms of what should be feared, how much, and how you should respond. She does not stop existing in the absence or suppression of vocabulary to describe her.

a demand for care— she does not just communicate to you but to the community you are part of; she calls attention to an obligation that this community has toward you, to make sure that you are safe within it and that your experiences are heard and understood.

yeah, so, i've had severe anxiety for my whole life and the way it's been treated and dealt with, and the way I've been taught to understand it, has really fucked me up so I am trying to lay the groundwork for understanding it differently

I think it's pretty fucked up that we're taught to see anxiety as deceptive or inaccurate. Now, obviously the images or projections in my fearful thoughts do not usually "reflect reality," but I have come to see this as...not particularly important?

Teaching an anxiety sufferer to restructure their thoughts to dismiss and contradict "irrational" fear is, in my opinion, the same as teaching a chronic pain sufferer to restructure their thoughts to dismiss and contradict pain with no clear physical source. You might as well speak of "irrational" pain, and pain has the same relationship to rationality that fear has.

"Irrationality" is a quality assigned to fear that is judged by an outside observer, or by the collective cultural biases and hang-ups of a society, as not appropriate to a given situation. This is total fucking nonsense and we should be talking about that, because...well, the first reason is that it implies some kind of fixed standard for what fear ultimately is and isn't for. i like to tell people to watch one of those Coyote Peterson videos where he's going to get a tarantula hawk wasp to sting him, because he's obviously having a strong physical fear response, even though he knows it won't kill him. Is it "rational" to fear suffering and not just death? How much suffering? Sit with that one a little while.

The second reason, which is even more convincing, is that the "rational" brain is not consulted at any point, ever, when a person feels afraid. It's just a response. The fear response is not routed through the conscious, sapient, reasoning brain. And thank God, because if we needed to hear back from an upstairs executive before we could decide whether to run from a lion, our species would be extinct.

Techniques like Cognitive Behavioral Therapy were absolute fucking shit at making my life any better, but fantastic at wrecking my ability to identify my own emotions, because Cognitive Behavioral Therapy for anxiety basically amounts to trying to brainwash yourself into thinking you don't feel the emotions that you do. It's a really neat way to develop bizarre psychosomatic symptoms and start experiencing anxiety through constant body pain, swollen lymph nodes, and digestive issues.

For an institution that pathologizes having "alters," psychiatry sure loves to encourage a suffering person to view normal and ultimately good parts of themselves as distinct, intruding entities to be shoved in a closet somewhere.

And yes. Fear is ultimately a good part of you, a part of you that loves you.

What began to set me free was feeling that acid terror and sickness and rage course through my body and realizing—really realizing—that I was being illuminated with this ancient, powerful force driving me to LIVE.

I want us to make it. I want you to live.

And you know what, I want me to live too.

I abandoned the doctrine of calming down—Lord knows it had never worked anyway—and started really just exploring and existing in the Fear.

How did that feel? Bad. Very very very very very bad and really not productive or helpful at all initially. Which was unavoidable. Necessary. She had been frantically clawing to communicate with me for so long, and I had been shutting her away, silencing her, resenting her presence in my psyche. I started trying to show gratitude toward the signals my body gave me. I started trying to show gratitude toward her—and i guess the Fear was a Her now, this just seemed more respectful.

And it seemed like nothing happened, but several things happened.

I stopped searching for validation. That was a big one. At some point I just...stopped needing a "reason" or justification for the fear I felt (trauma???? neurodivergence???? neurodivergence trauma????) and the fact that I experienced it became completely sufficient and satisfying to me. So much guilt and confusion disappeared.

I also became steadily more confident about my own boundaries, particularly in regards to recovery.

It's awful now that I think about it, but I think I felt this sense of almost moral obligation towards "recovery," as if I needed to "overcome fear" to be Courageous and Virtuous. It made me feel crushing guilt to feel any hesitation about this.

But then this started to change. It became more real to me that was the only person affected by the steps I did or didn't take toward recovery, and there was no moral dimension to it. A therapist couldn't put me in a box I wouldn't willingly go into.

Freedom from these judgmental frameworks is really important to me. I think that I always hated the idea of getting "better" because it seemed like "better" would mean just getting better at submitting to things I was afraid of while everything felt just as bad as it always did on the inside.

And on some level—even though I could never put it into words at the time—I violently hated the idea of "recovery" from some of my fears because it seemed like the ultimate denial of agency. I didn't want to "become okay with it"—the possibility felt dehumanizing. It felt awful.

And I realize now that this is because The Fear represented something I needed to have a right to. Many of my most life-destroying fears centered around things being done to my body, and if I could have pressed a button and been no longer afraid, I wouldn't have, even though it would have spared me so much suffering, because...I needed it to be okay to want agency over my body. I needed it to be right. The Fear, in this case, was a demand that my body be treated as sacred.

I realized that there were many cases where The Fear was a territorial claim of sorts, a demand that certain needs be honored and met—She needs this. This is FUCKING non-negotiable.

And it really...prompted me to look backward on my life and see The Fear differently: not as a responsibility I had failed to shoulder (me?? a little child??? responsible?? Responsible for being brave, when every day felt like facing a firing squad?????) but as a collective responsibility

Because I was not alone in those memories—I was surrounded by adults that saw me suffering, and often dismissed, ignored or ridiculed it. The Fear grew larger and larger; why?—to protect me. Because teachers, nurses, doctors, and camp counselors did not do any of the thousand thousand things they could have done to make that little girl feel safe. Because my well-meaning parents praised me when I was "brave" but I, a little kid, literally couldn't communicate how awful it always felt.

The Fear was not there to torture me. The Fear was and is doing her best to keep me safe. It's not wrong, there's no need for guilt. It just is.

It doesn't feel good. But maybe one day it will feel better.

#anxiety #mental illness #psych critical #autism

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elliebarker · 2 months

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yessss cc fic plz there’s not nearly enough

fuɔk me. ( c. clark )

category: caitlin clark x girlfriend!reader (angst, fluff)

summary: after seeing you talking to another after one of her games, caitlin goes into an obsessive spiral of jealousy, unknowingly sending you down your own rabbit hole.

warnings: way sadder than i intended

word count: 1.2k

author’s note: i tried capital letters, y’all fw it?

_________________________________________

“I mean, it was electric, truly.”

Caitlin’s voice echoed into the microphone of a random media reporter who was interviewing her. She tried her best to stay focused on the questions whilst the camera clicked and pump-up music blared. Iowa had just won a home game and she knew you were in the crowd. She regained consciousness with the present and began answering the interview questions with basic textbook answers about ‘the Iowa culture’ and how great her shots felt, whilst scouring the stadium for you. You interlocked eyes and waved to her. She waved back and politely wrapped things up with the media girl (hehe) and headed your way.

In the minutes she had spent with her eyes off of you, an umich girl from the opposing team had walked up to you. She was, in Caitlin’s eyes, getting a little too friendly. Smirking, and smiling too wide. Caitlin backed away, choosing to head to her teammates instead and pose in photos with fans. See… people love me she thought. And we literally bet them and that fucking umich girl had the nerv-

“Caitlin!” you ran, hugging her from behind. “You do so good, omg!”

“Thanks, babe.” She slipped away from you, cold and isolated. Caitlin spent the night with the girls on her team, which wasn’t irregular for away games, but you were looking forward to getting to spend time with her when she was actually in town. You were slumped in your apartment, staring at yourself in the mirror, picking a pulling at your skin, hair, and hair. Meanwhile, Caitlin was glued to her phone in the corner of the room her teammates were in. Staring at that umich girl’s stats and Instagram. Caitlin knew she was a good player, she knew she was a good girlfriend, she knew you. She knew you wouldn’t do her wrong but she couldn’t stop thinking about it. About finding someone different. She knew she wasn’t there for you all the time, on account of her schedule with basketball that seemed never-ending. She felt like a bad girlfriend. You deserved the world, more than she could ever give you.

Sounds of shoes squeaking and balls dribbling filled her ears as Caitlin entered Iowa’s gym. After nights of stressing, overthinking, and flashes of your interaction with the umich girl appearing in her head, Caitlin was ready to clear her head with some practice. She stretched, dripped the ball a bit, and began shooting. First shot, miss. She went and grabbed the ball. Second shot, miss. Everyone has bad days. The third shot, she could barely focus, overwhelmed with this stinging feeling of inferiority as she missed that basket. “Fuɔk me,” she muttered under her breath. She suddenly turned around when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Kate was standing, now facing her. “Hey Caitlin, can we talk?”

“Yeah of course, what’s up?”

“I’ve noticed you’ve been kind of off…down, you okay?”

“Um yeah,” she tried to hold her guard up, “yeah, I’m fine.” She smiled, “Need to lock in.” Kate laughed, agreed, and went on with her practice.

Later that day you, being friendly with the Iowa team, reached out to Kate. You texted her,

You: hi kate!

i haven’t seen caitlin in a bit and just wanted to check in and make sure she’s doing okay

Kate: Hey! Thanks for reaching out, she has been acting a little weird.

I was going to ask you but I guess you don’t know what’s up either.

You: no, i don’t know

has she talked about me?

at all?

Kate: No, not really. Is everything okay?

You: (…)

You stared at your phone for a solid five minutes attempting to keep your emotions under control.

You: yep! everything's good

just been a hot minute since ive seen her

but thats prob just cause shes so busy lol

Kate: Fair. But if anything does you can always talk to me.’

You: awww thanks kate! that's so sweet.

Days passed and you finally got a day to spend with Caitlin. You had invited her over to your apartment. You had excitedly and worriedly done up your hair and makeup, cleaned and refreshed every inch of your apartment: fresh sheets and fresh flowers, and made sure to wear an outfit you knew she liked. You felt it in your bones that your behavior was suspicious and 100% fueled by insecurity but you told yourself that you were doing this to make Caitlin feel comfortable, let her relax from working so hard. Totally not convincing her to want to stay with you.

You and Caitlin were in your bed watching a tv-show and you could sense something was off. “Hey baby, can I get you anything?” you ask, trying to make yourself useful.

“Um, yeah sure,” she replied, “water works.” You scoot yourself off the bed and head to the kitchen. Caitlin watches as you walk away, thinking about how you’re perfect in every way. She pulls out her phone, and her most recent search on instagram, umich bitch, is controlling her thoughts again.

You come back with a glass of water for Caitlin and see she’s engulfed in her phone. Goddamnit you’ve bored her.

“I’m sorry,” you muster out. The stress of the possible end of your relationship that you conquered up in your head makes you almost fold into tears.

Caitlin sprung up, “Sorry, babe, sorry about what?” she went to hold you. You slithered yourself out of her arms,

“You’re probably sick of me, I need to stop holding onto you.”

“What?” Caitlin asked, “Okay, first of all, I would never be sick of you. You are the most gorgeous, fearless, kindest, perfect girl I’ve ever seen. I would be crazy to ever let you go. But I know you deserve, you need better than me.” your tears turned to happy ones as you exclaimed,

“Caitlin what? You are the best girlfriend in the whole wide world.” You grabbed her face in your hands as hers found their natural place around your hips.

“I love you,” she whispered before moving her face close to yours and kissing you passionately. Your arms wrapped themselves around her neck as you leaned into the kiss. You slightly pulled away, whispering back,

“I love you too.” Caitlin then pulled open her phone, to delete the umich player from her search history, but not without catching your nosy eye. “Wait. This was about her?”

“What?” Caitlin said, trying to sound clueless.

“I spoke to her for five seconds? Wait…you were jealous?” you inquired.

“No- I- who-” she stuttered, trying to deny it. “Also, I don’t get jealous.”

“You goofball,” you said, pulling her into a deeper kiss, to which Caitlin picked you up and plopped you back onto your bed, pulling you into her chest, and kissing your forehead.

“I don’t get jealous” she re-enstated.

“Mhmmmmm…” you replied, nodding your head, in a non-believeing tone. “Got it. Not jealous.”

“I’m being serious,” she said. You, too lazy to lift your head, nodded and closed your eyes falling into a deep sleep, to which Caitlin would follow you.

#caitlin clark x reader #caitlin clark #iowa wbb #iowa hawkeyes #wbb #ncaa wbb #wbb x reader #caitlin x reader #wbb fanfic #caitlin clark fic

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jadeysjasmine · 3 months

Text

The Dare - Aitana Bonmati x Reader

A/N: this is a repost. 1573 words

Tags: angst

Summary: You find out that your relationship started due to a dare.

You and aitana had been dating for a few weeks, it had been going amazing and you found yourself falling in love with the Spaniard.

You were caught off guard when she asked you on a date, fairly new to Barcelona and Spain in general you were fairly new to the Spanish culture and how affectionate they are so you played off all previous interaction with aitana, and all of your other Spanish teammates, as them just being friendly.

To say you were ecstatic was an understatement, you had a major crush on the Catalonian since before you joined Barcelona, she was not the only reason but a big reason as to why you made the switch from London to Barcelona.

That night you and aitana went to a lovely secluded restaurant on the outskirts of Barcelona, spending the night laughing and getting to know one another on a deeper level.

For the following few weeks it was amazing, you and aitana explored all over the city of Barcelona, trying different restaurants, going bowling and even the arcade.

She asked you to be her girlfriend during one of your weekly movie nights, she had barely finished the question before you, rather loudly, accepted and pulled her into a hug.

You two were getting closer by the day, sharing childhood stories, fears and your biggest dreams.

There was only one issue, the aitana when you were alone compared to the one around other people was completely different, like black and white.

Around you she was clingy, sweet, talkative and could not get enough of you.

However around your teammates she was the polar opposite, she hated touching you, would always be on the other side of the pitch, never partner with you for drills and anytime you two interacted it was short replies.

You chalked it up to her not being a big fan of PDA and you overthinking due to being mistreated in previous relationships, not like the team, or anyone for that matter, knew about your relationship.

It had been bugging you because it was not like you wanted you two to have sex in front of the team, you just wanted to be able to speak to your girlfriend.

You were currently in the locker room, packing your stuff to head home having just beaten Rosengard 7-0.

Saying bye to your teammates you start heading out to your car, putting your bags in the trunk before reaching for your phone to reply to a text when you couldn't feel it.

Realising you must have left it in the medic room when you were getting a minor cut from a tackle checked, heading back inside and grabbing your phone.

As you are about to walk past the locker room to leave you hear what sounds like ona loudly say "You need to tell her aitana, the joke has gone too far. Think about her feelings and how she will feel when she finds out."

This caught your attention, moving closer to the door but out of the way so if it was opened you were not caught for snooping.

It was your girlfriend who spoke next "I know but I am starting to really like her and I do not want this to ruin our relationship." her voice quiet, like she was trying not to be heard by anyone other than ona.

You were unsure what they were implying but you felt sick at the though of aitana being untruthful with you about your relationship, you hear ona scoff before wishing you never heard the next words out of her mouth.

"You either tell her that you only dated her due to a dare or I will." you hear shuffling before ona speaks up again, voice louder meaning she had moved closer to the door "If you truly like her like you claim to do then you will be honest with her.

You felt sick, completely blindsided by this new discovery.

Rushing out of the stadium and into your car, speeding home so you can breakdown in the comfort of your own home.

You're barely in your apartment when you fall to your knees, body shaking as you sob into your hands.

You had eventually stopped crying, looking at your phone you realise you had been there for 30 minutes. You noticed a text from aitana confirming she would be at your house for your movie night.

Panicking you texted back cancelling plans, making up an illness. You knew you had to confront her at some point but all you wanted to do tonight was curl up in bed and watch netflix or play games.

You're halfway through an episode of your favourite show when you hear a knock on your door, you weren't expecting anyone so you were confused as to who was at your door. Ignoring the knocking you opted to turn down the tv and hope the person thought no one was home and leave.

As luck would have it, the person did not leave and 2 louder knocks followed. Sighing you paused your show and made your way to the door, you looked through the peep hole you saw the person you were avidly avoiding, aitana.

She was holding a carrier bag, you quickly fixed your appearance, hoping she didn't figure out you had been crying.

Opening the door slightly, hoping to be able to convince her to go home, you spoke "Hey aitana, what are you doing here? did you get my text?"

She looked up, worry etched on her face and laced in her voice "Yes I got your text, are you ok amor? have you been crying?"

You wanted to roll your eyes, she's acting like she cares about you but you're unsure about anything anymore, especially anything concerning aitana.

Instead you put on your best fake smile, assure her you're fine and that you're just feeling under the weather and that she should go home so she doesn't catch anything.

She looks unconvinced but doesn't question you, telling you to rest, stay hydrated and she handed you the bag she brought which contained medication, snacks and her grandmothers homemade chicken soup recipe.

If you didn't know what you knew and her presence didn't make you feel nothing but anger then the sweet gesture would have probably made you cry but instead you thanked her, telling her to drive safe and said your goodbyes, trying to make her leave as soon as possible because you don't know how long you could keep up this facade.

The next day at training not only aitana, but the whole team knew something was up, you were training fine but you barely spoke to anyone and if you did you were giving one word answers, you weren't carrying on with the younger player and you weren't as bubbly as you usually are, the team just put it down to you still feeling a bit under the weather and alexia even offered to take you home but you just said you were fine and kept training.

You didn't mean to be blunt with everyone but you did not know who was included in the bet and you couldn't trust anyone.

Aitana surprisingly tried to approach you and start up a conversation, you found the whole situation ironic considering she would avoid you previously.

When training finished you skipped showering, instead choosing to do it at home and were packing your belongings away, still in a bad mood, when aitana cautiously approached you.

"Hola, do you maybe wanna go out tonight or if you are still feeling sick we can just have a movie night?" She asked nervously.

You scoffed, not meaning to get as angry as you did but it all stemmed from how hurt you were, bluntly but viciously replying "Why? Did someone dare you again?"

Her face fell, colour draining from her face as she starts stuttering an apology and questioning how you knew but the look on your face made her stop talking and awkwardly look down at her handing, fidgeting with the rings on her fingers.

The whole locker rooms eyes are on your, some shocked, some guilty, some confused.

The silence was almost deafening, no one dares to say a word, not with the angry look on your face. It was Mapi who eventually broke the silence "What does she mean carino? What bet?"

You turned away from aitana to look over at mapi, now noticing the eyes on you and feeling embarrassed by your outburst, your shoulders deflate as you mutter an apology for causing a scene.

You hadn't answer mapi's question and she opened her mouth as to re-ask what you meant when Ona spoke up "She means that there was a dare to make her fall for aitana."

Collective gasps before everyone turned from ona to look back and you and aitana, your face heating up with embarrassment as a new wave of humiliation hit you and you grabbed your stuff before making a quick exit.

As soon as you left you heard the locker room erupt into noise, the ones that had to idea about the dare were furious, berating the midfielder.

You made it to your car when your phone pinged, it was a text from your agent.

Chelsea are looking for a striker and want to bring you back home, Barcelona have accepted the bid as it is an unrefusable offer but ultimately it's up to you.

Your head is spinning, what will you do? Staying in Barcelona means seeing the girl who broke your heart but leaving will mean leaving aitana and as much as you hate her right now, you still loved her.

#woso x reader #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso #aitana bonmati #aitana bonmati x reader #aitana bonmati imagine

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cookiescribble · 10 months

Note

spencer x british!reader

as a brit i would love to see a fic of a reader with a british accent and spencer adores it and mimics her sometimes

Taking It In (Spencer Reid x British Fem!Reader)

A/N: Thank you so much for the request! This is a bit of a team effort because I’m a bit more knowledgeable about British culture (in no means an expert, I just had a hyperfixation on the Beatles and Doctor Who in middle school/ high school lmao) but Mod Angel is usually the one who writes for fem!readers. Also, we’re both American so we hope this is what you wanted! Sorry for the little wait - Mod Ghost

We also just binged season 2 of Heartstopper and tried our best to pick up on some of the language because we thought this was a really cute idea and wanted to write it as best we could! - Mod Angel

~~~

“Coffee? I thought that people from the UK drank tea?” Spencer piped up from behind as his girlfriend was pouring coffee into one of the paper cups she’d found around the canteen.

“It heavily depends on who you’re talking to, Spencer. I feel you should know just as well as I do that everyone’s different. You didn’t profile me as soon as we started dating?” Y/N joked, to which he looked puzzled.

“Wha–no, I usually try to keep my job separate from…personal relations.” He replied sheepishly, starting to mix up his own mug of coffee.

“That changed when we started dating, didn’t it, love?” She teased him, patting his shoulder.

It made him blush and stutter like mad, his hands waving around as he tried to scramble to find something to say. It was rare to see him speechless, but she couldn’t help but to smirk as she watched him struggle. It only lasted a few more seconds before she cut him off, reaching out and gently touching his hand.

“It’s alright, I was just being cheeky, that’s all. C’mon, let’s go back to workin’ on the case, okay?” She chuckled, leading him away from the counter with the hand that wasn’t holding her coffee resting at the small of his back as they walked.

“I knew that!” He squealed in his own defense, which made her giggle loudly.

A few weeks later, the BAU were out to dinner, taking a small break while in the middle of a case. Though, it wasn’t much of a break, considering they were still talking about the profile.

Spencer pointed to a plate in the middle of the table. “Can I have a chip?”

A confused silence fell over the table as they all looked in his direction. Spencer stared back at them, an eyebrow raised in his own confusion.

“What?” Spencer asked finally, breaking the silence.

“What did you just say?” JJ responded with a smirk, raising an eyebrow at him.

“I asked if you could pass me a chip” he answered, pointing to the plate again.

“Where do you see chips?” Hotch chimed in, concerned for his mental stability.

Still confused, Spencer pointed to the plate again.

“The fries?” Penelope clarified, gesturing to the same plate finally.

“Oh.” He nodded awkwardly. “Yeah, can you pass me a fry?”

“You’re really spending too much time with that girlfriend of yours, aren’t you?” Morgan teased, grinning and playfully nudging his shoulder.

He smiled and shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said in a faux-English accent as he finally got the ‘chip’ he wanted as the rest of the table laughed.

“Speaking of Y/N, where is she tonight?? I miss that girl.” Garcia complained from the other side of the table,

“Oh, she went out with one of her mates–” Spencer started before Prentiss cut him off from where she was sat next to him,

“Mates??” She asked incredulously, seconds away from giggling as he groaned and leaned back in his chair.

“FRIENDS! Her friends.” he grumbled, finishing his food and making a mental note to not only tell but blame his girlfriend, Y/N, for everything he’d been through tonight. Not before giving her a kiss, though. The fact that she wasn’t here just made him realize how much he missed her, and it made him wonder if there was a correlation between missing her and talking like her.

The girls dropped him off at home a few hours later, where the first thing he said when he saw Y/N was ‘this is your fault’.

“Do you…want to elaborate on that or…?”

“Later.” Was all he said before he was hugging her and burying his head in her shoulder.

She tugged him close, feeling him start breathing deeply against her shoulder as if he was falling asleep and tapped him to wake him up a bit so she could start leading him to their room. “Come along, darling, let’s get you into bed. You seem tired.”

“I know that they’re fries but you say chips…it’s cute…” he mumbled as he walked, only adding to the confusion but she chalked it up to him being tired from a long day and let it go for now as she tucked him in with a smile at how cute he was.

#spencer reid #fanfiction #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #ghosty #mod angel #mod ghost #spencer reid fluff #british #british speaking Y/N #request #thank you for submitting !!

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flokali · 4 months

Text

♢ I own you, I love you | Tartaglia

warnings: yandere, dub/con, male m.asturbation, violence, threats, corruption, unrealistic sound-isolation, delusional thoughts, possessive behavior (from childe), childe/tartaglia lore-spoilers, canon divergence (maybe?), misunderstanding/miscommunication, manipulative behavior (from ajax) , unreliable narrator (ajax), ask to tag more.

pairing: afab! fem! reader x childe

word count: 10.7k

a/n: after months... here it is;; i'm so sorry for taking so long (tt),, i'll make it up to you !! istg (huhuh)

— 18+

You had trouble falling asleep ever since the day Ajax went missing.

It was meant to be yet another normal day, one that would blend in with all the others – muddled with other memories of childhood. Instead, it became the day your life began to change in ways you hadn’t even fathomed possible.

It had heavily snowed the previous night, which left a brand new layer of pure white to cover the humble roads of Morepesok. Normally, after such a heavy storm, you and Ajax would go over to his house and play inside – making use of the fireplace his father had built and hot chocolate his mother would make to keep warm. You both would steal his father’s diary and read about his adventures across Teyvat, recreating the scenes in your minds with yourselves as the main characters, before sharing your dreams with one another.

You never had the courage back then to tell him your ideal adventure was a rather simple one, while you always dreamt of moving to a less snowy nation, one like Mondstatd or even Sumeru, you were content with peacefully traveling across Teyvat before settling down. You didn’t want to spend your life fighting monsters and exploring the world, you only really longed for a simple life, where you could work a safe job and create a new home for yourself and those you loved. It was fun to imagine yourself on a long, rewarding journey across the nation to complete a request, but you’d rather keep it as just that – a figment of your imagination.

Ajax, on the other hand, longed for the chance to become a warrior. While never too skilled with the blade, always too nervous to even kill an animal, his determination was enough to convince you he’d one day make a great adventurer like his father. He’d longed for the thrill of exploring every corner of Teyvat, roaming the land until there was nowhere in this world where he hadn’t been to. Meeting new people, learning about new cultures, fighting monsters and gaining the freedom that came with being an adventurer; Ajax’s dreams had been clear from a young age.

A part of you, albeit really, insignificantly small, always wished he’d never succeed, secretly hoping he’d leave those ambitions behind with age and become a fisherman or craftsman instead. You’d heard tales of men and women who’d joined the Adventurer’s Guild only to never come back, and even more about those who’d joined the Fatui’s ranks, and you didn’t like the idea of waking up one day to find out he’d passed in a foreign land. It was selfish, you knew that, but you hoped that maybe he’d choose a safer option, one where you two could live together, away from the cold winters of Snezhnaya and safe from the dangers of the world. Maybe you’d both move away from Morepesok, find a quaint town in Fontaine where you’d both settle down and continue being friends, or maybe more, with no worries for each other’s safety - only busy being happy and healthy.

While you were putting on your boots and coat, making sure to layer as many clothes as you could to avoid the freezing cold temperatures that came with such heavy snowfall, you remember feeling an odd sense of uneasiness, a queasy feeling settling down in your stomach making you feel sick and nauseous. At the time you had thought nothing of it, too focused on meeting up with your friend and the taste of his mother’s hot coco, but now, years later, you think it was the Tsaritsa’s way to warn you for what was to come.

You remember nearing his house, confused as to why he hadn’t met you halfway down the road like he always did. It was quiet, eerily so, only the sound of your boots and your labored breath as you battled your way through the snow. There were no kids out on the street, all the adults that would normally be on their way were missing, even the birds seemed hesitant to chirp.

Instead, you find his mother worriedly looking around the perimeters of their humble cabin, her normally neat appearance now disheveled. Her long, ginger hair was half-hazardly put up, her clothes were wrinkled, her coat wasn’t even buttoned up all the way, but she stood there, frantically looking around.Whenever you’d come over, you and Ajax would always bump into one another before racing home to see who’d get there first, but today there was his mother’s choked sobs where normally his laughter would ring.

“Auntie?” You asked, running the rest of the way as you saw her expression, the closer you got the clearer the worry in her face became and you felt yourself grow anxious.

“Sweetie,” she looks at you in surprise, not having seen you approaching - too preoccupied to hear your unsteady footsteps as you struggled to run towards her, you see her blue eyes frantically look behind you and you follow suit, “A-Ajax, he wouldn’t have been with you, right?”

“No…” You shake your head, the previous feeling in your stomach expanding across your body, your head felt fuzzy as you asked, “Isn’t he home?”

“I… I’m afraid not,” She looks distressed at your words, her eyes water as she ushers you inside while still trying to look around to see if she caught sight of her son’s bright ginger hair against the cold white that coated the roads, her hands are shaking as she holds yours and brings you into her home, “Come inside, come inside – it’s too cold out t-there, you’ll get sick.”

Behind you, you hear more people arrive, you’re almost certain you hear your parents as well, but you have no time to ask before the worried mother shakes her head at the curious adults that looked up at her – the atmosphere worsens at the realization he hadn’t snuck out to be with you, she tries to occupy herself by taking you inside so as to not give into hopelessness.

You’re confused, not too sure of what’s going on even as you see adults from around the village inside of the house, maps in their hands as they whisper about the boy’s possible whereabouts.

“Is Ajax… o-okay?” You ask, you start to feel afraid as you process their concerned faces, seeing all of these adults who’d always been smiling and assured look so worried and uncertain sent a chill down your spine.

Where was Ajax? Normally he’d be here, assuring you your imagination was running wild and that nothing was wrong, the empty space next you where he’d normally be felt awfully cold.

Nobody answers you, instead you’re taken to your friend’s room where his siblings were gathered. Their mom, who you've always called your auntie, kneels down in front of you, taking your smaller hands into hers and giving you a weak smile.

“Ajax will be fine, okay?” Her words are meant to comfort you but you feel like they’re more for herself in that moment, “He’s just… gone out for a while, but he’ll be back before you know it.”

You nod, not truly understanding what she meant but feeling as if that was the response she needed to hear.

She gives your forehead a small kiss, you feel a tear fall travel down her cheeks and into your hair but you say nothing as she leaves, noting how she desperately tried to conceal the tears in her eyes; You’d never seen her cry before and it’s only then, as you look at his siblings and the pained look in their faces, that you finally begin to grasp the severity of the situation.

He was missing. Your best friend was gone and no one had any idea where he had run off to.

That evening your parents came over and stayed the whole day with Ajax’s family, alongside the other townspeople who went and came as they searched for the young boy in the woods around the area. Normally, you had to fight tooth and nail to let them grant you permission to stay over but that night they’d been the ones to offer it first.

That night was the first and only time you had a sleepover without Ajax. You and his siblings huddled together in the living room, next to the fireplace as his mother looked over you all. You would wake up every so often to the sound of people coming and going as the search efforts seeped into the night and early morning.

The suffocating cycle repeated itself for three days. Three days, two nights, and one afternoon later, after countless hours crying to your parents in fear of losing your best friend; Ajax emerges from the woods in one piece, but he who returns is not the same boy.

The first thing that stood out was his disheveled hair, he was wearing the same clothes – which were in too good a condition for a kid who’d gotten lost in the woods by himself for three days –, and the hunting knife he’d stolen from his dad now dull as if it’d been used continuously for a long period of time. What shocked the men and women who’d found him was the blood on him – specks decorated his face and hands as he looked up at them from his position near the corpse of a bear, one easily three times his size, he’d somehow taken out.

They’d found him in a clearing close to his house, the smell of blood had been what had alerted the rescue party – they’d prepared for the worst case scenario where the blood came from Ajax’s body, instead they found him to be in good shape even after three days by himself in the wild – perhaps a little too good, for it seemed he’d somehow taken down a beast by himself with his hands and his father’s old hunting knife.

The news of his return quickly spreads, everyone gathered near his home as they awaited with bated breaths to see the young boy; you’re there as he’s reunited with his family, hugging your mother’s leg as tightly as you could.

Rumors spread about him having killed an animal, some claimed it had been a rabbit while others alleged it had been a beast the size of a horse, and you wondered if they had mistaken another kid for Ajax – he’d never had the guts to harm even a fly, you doubted he’d changed so much in the span of three days. But it seemed as if you’d been wrong.

He doesn’t shed a tear, he doesn’t say a word. Not even a squeak as his parents coddle him; nothing at all. The only sounds are hushed whispers as people discuss the absurd situation and gleeful congratulations from onlookers as they celebrate his arrival and well being while giving his family well wishes. Instead, his blue eyes find yours and you’re unnerved at the empty look in them. Where there’s once been a warm light, you found an empty void that seemingly sucked you in and refused to let you go. You felt goosebumps arise all over your body the longer he looked at you. Even as he’s embraced within his father’s arms, his family surrounding him as they cry from relief, it’s only when he makes eye contact with you that, the first time since arriving, he smiles.

You feel a chill travel down your spine as you realize Ajax hadn’t been the one to return that day. You unconsciously nestled closer into your mother’s coat, as if trying to hide from his unnerving gaze.

You did your best to ignore that unsettling feeling, opting to attribute it to the rumors you had heard instead of something your friend had done, you pushed it and as well as any doubts aside as you attempted to focus on the good news; he was here, home with his family and back next door to your own house, and that was all that really mattered.

Ever since then, he’d become more confident. His once timid personality completely disappeared and the days where you had been the stronger one, defending him from his older siblings’ teasing and the mocking from other kids, were now but hazy memories. The roles had switched quite suddenly, not that you minded it too much – there were times where it felt nice to be the one being protected rather than the protector, but it had been quite the surprise at first.

He’d become bolder and more protective, never afraid to throw a punch (and sometimes even more) if he felt like you had been disrespected. It came to a point where you’d sometimes grow suffocated by his mere presence; eventually it escalated to where he’d never let you hang out with anybody he didn’t approve of, afraid they’d hurt you and he wouldn’t be there to defend you, and he’d make sure to let it be known you were his friend first and foremost. Unknowingly, a set of rules had been implemented between the two of you. Rules that stated you were his responsibility to protect and care for, even if it meant it drove others away and left you two isolated from other kids your age.

There were times you missed the Ajax that’d gone into the woods, the freckled boy who was timid and polite – who’d rather be teased by his siblings than hurt even a bug the size of your pinky, you doubt that boy would have picked fights with kids twice his size because they’d made a joke or two that didn’t land too well. But you hesitated to dislike the new Ajax, after all, when it was only the two of you - it was as if that damned day had never occurred at all.

He was back to the sweet, delicate boy who’d blush at your jokes and avoid prolonged eye contact. Whose hand would grow warm from holding yours, who’d confess his feelings to you every night when he thought you’d fallen asleep.

A few years later, once you were both older – now settled into your teen years, he ended up joining the Fatui and leaving your humble seaside village to go to the capital to train as a soldier.

You cried the day he’d given you the news. As overbearing as he could be, the ginger had been your only friend that your parents consistently let you hang out with, you’d spent your whole lives together and the thought of being without him terrified you greatly.

You remember the look on his face, the way he desperately tried to look strong and not let a single tear get away, his hands that had once been soft were now calloused as he grabbed your own.

“I’ll come back for you, I promise.” He’d whispered, his lips near your ear as he enveloped you in a hug.

You don’t trust your voice not to break and so you nod, letting your nose burn from trying to contain your sobs and not worry him more than he already was.

“A-and I’ll write you letters, so you better not forget me,” he continues, and even if by now he’d long since grown taller than yourself – you’re amazed at how small and vulnerable he felt against your frame, “so please… wait for me.”

“Only if you always write to me first… ‘Cause I swear I’ll leave if you forget.” You try to lighten the mood, halfheartedly warning him as if you both didn’t know it’d take death itself for Ajax not to fulfill a promise from him to you. He tightens his arms around you and you feel a wave of nostalgia wash over you as you wonder how long it’ll be before you can both hug like this again.

“I promise.” He laughs softly, the sound warms your heart.

“Then I promise as well.”

Ever since the day Ajax went missing, you have had trouble falling asleep.

When you did manage to fall asleep, a task which took longer than you’d like to admit without external factors such as medicine, your dreams would be strange and cryptic, often times you’d wake up in the middle of the night with a racing heartbeat and a sense of urgency, as if you’d been in danger; you’d learned to hate the images your brain would concoct during your rest. Some nights, you’d dream about that day and what would have happened if Ajax had never been found, other times you’d open the door to soldiers grieving his death; whatever tragic scenario your mind decided to present you, it would always be so realistic you’d wake up with tears streaming down your cheeks and a devastated heart.

This time, however, your sleep had come easier than expected and there were no dreams or nightmares to haunt you. No earthly worries were present and, after such an unexpected day filled with reunions and world-shattering news, you wished to succumb to a never ending night; however, the fates had other plans for you.

As you’re forcibly awakened from your slumber you feel a familiar, pleasant hand gently caressing your head. It felt gentle, their touch delicate and sweet, as if they were afraid any more force would hurt you. If the owner of said limb wished to lure you into consciousness, their touch had the opposite effect as it almost seemed to beg you to go back to sleep and forget the world of the living.

You felt truly content as you laid there, the blanket that laid atop of you was heavy and cozy, a foreign feeling - nothing like the blankets you were used to, and the pillow smelt like an old friend, welcoming and nostalgic. It all felt like a perfect trap set out to catch you, if that were that case then you’d have to admit it was a little too good at its job as you resign yourself to cuddling closer to the fabrics that enveloped you.

If it hadn’t been for the gentle kiss pressed against your cheek, you probably would have never gotten up. You want to complain, already formulating a sentence of indignation and annoyance to throw at the perpetrator, but the warmth left behind by the gesture is cozy and fills you with a taste full of happiness and fulfillment you don’t want to sour. At the feeling of a pair of unknown, soft lips against your skin you become more alert, slowly your consciousness begins to enter the realm of the living once more while you grow aware of your surroundings. Your eyes open timidly, the leftover fatigue from such a deep rest keeping them heavy, it takes you a second or two to adjust to the light and another few to register the man that lovingly gazed down on you.

“Ajax…?” You call out, rubbing your eyes as you wonder if it really was him. You’re almost sure you’re dreaming, as embarrassing as it was to admit, it had been so long since you’d seen him in person you may have simply gone crazy and imagined the man to be here; You’re about to ask him what he was doing here, if he were real at all, but he beats you to the punch with a smile before answering you with a gleeful tone that reminds you of summers long gone.

“The one and only,” he laughs gently as the hand that laid atop your head began to ruffle your hair in a familiar gesture – reassuring you that he was, in fact, a real person and not a figment of your imagination you had come up with to deal with the loneliness, “… don’t tell me you forgot about earlier.”

He teases you, but there’s a hint of worry in his eyes as he awaits your answer; surely, you couldn’t have forgotten. It’d only been a couple of hours and he had been sure to be as thorough as possible so that he left a print on both your mind and body, there was no way you’d forget making love with your soulmate. Just the thought of it sent jolts of anger and frustration down his spine, not at you - never at you, but at himself as he wonders if maybe he’d underperformed and disappointed you to the point you’d try and act like nothing had happened. If that was the case, he was more than willing to go again just this instant to right any previous wrongs.

“Earlier?” You mumble, you wreck your brain trying to think of what he meant but it isn’t a full minute before you realize what he meant. If it hadn’t been for his words, maybe his coat laying on you and your sore body would have been enough to eventually jog your memory. You feel your cheeks grow hot as you remember what you two had done earlier, you’d been so tired by the end you’d fallen into a deep, dreamless slumber that momentarily left you empty-headed when you woke up, but now the memories are rushing in and you doubt you’ll be able to forget the feeling of Childe on top of you for a long time.

Your embarrassed gaze was enough for him to know you’d remembered the dance you’d both partaken in earlier that day, the way your eyes avoided his had his heart swooning and a warm, fuzzy feeling settling deep within his very soul.

He feels himself calm down the more he looks at your flustered face, his whole body light and intoxicated on your sweet expressions; his pants felt so tight as he watched you fiddle with his coat, he wonders if he’d be able to warm you up on the ride back to his place the same way he’d done so previously.

You were absolutely adorable to him, so very weak and fragile in comparison to him – if he wasn’t such a gentleman, he would have loved to destroy you until you were too scared to leave his side. Alas, he decided that you shouldn’t be the one to face the sharp end of his blade, instead, he’ll scar your psyche and those around you so violently you’ll have no want nor need for anything else other than him.

“So, ‘slept well, my love?” He asks, his tone sweet as to never betray his darker thoughts — you didn’t have to know about how deeply he wished to break you until you couldn’t function without him by your side. You nod while suppressing a yawn, blissfully unaware of the chaos that was unfolding due to the man in front of you, and he laughs, content with your naïveté; he missed you oh so very much, “That’s good.”

There’s a warm, almost euphoric feeling that invaded your senses as you both took the time to enjoy each other’s presence; it felt different from earlier, something had changed now that you both had finally indulged in each other’s bodies. It felt akin to drinking a warm cup of tea, comforting and pleasurable, a reminder of home and the feeling of familiarity after a long period of impersonal and foreign coldness.

“Let’s get going then,” he breaks the silence, finally standing up from his crouching position, he gives you one last pat in the head before he starts making his way through your room and inspecting your belongings – or what remained of your belongings, “the carriage will be here soon, it’s only an hour long ride away but I think it’s best we take as much as we can today and send someone to pick up what remains.”

That’s when you notice he’s fully dressed, other than for his cape that was laid on you, as if he was anxiously awaiting the time to leave. You’re confused; why was he so keen on leaving and so fastly – he’d barely been here a handful of hours. Did you misunderstand his intentions?

“What do you…?” You ask, you rub your eyes while you sit up, using the large coat as a cover once you feel chilly Snezhnayan air hit your sensitive skin. It’s then that you can finally look at the many bags and boxes that litter the floor, and the almost empty room you laid in. All of your belongings seemed to have been packed away, almost nothing remained other than old family portraits and gifts from your parents from across the years.

“Huh?” The sight of your room packed into boxes was enough to wake you up, you instinctively try to stand up but a firm hand keeps you in place; you look up and see Ajax looking down at you. Your eyes meet and a chill goes up your spine at the look in his, they look eerily empty. You barely feel the coat slip from your shoulders, too focused on the feeling of his fingers against your forearm and the fact he, as a soldier, could easily overpower you if he wished.

“You’re still sleepy, aren’t you?” He asks, the muscles on his arm flex slightly as he speaks to you - he sounds disappointed as he continues interrogating you, “Do you really not remember?”

You shake your head, trying to wrack your brain for any indications of what he could be referring to; you remember the news about your parents and what happened after, but moving out? You have no memory of such a thing being even discussed, lest he meant —

“You agreed to marry me,” he says, as if reading your mind, your arm is finally set free as he adjusts the gloves on his hands, “and as my wife, you’ll be living with me from now on; I assumed you wouldn’t want to stay… here for much longer, considering everything.”

“Marry you…?” You echo as you watch him parade around your room, sharp eyes taking in what was left of your belongings on display. You vaguely remember his proposal during the first half of your conversation, something about how it’d serve as an obstacle for the arranged marriage – after all, it’s not as if the wife of a Fatui Harbinger’s marriage could be easily questioned or objected to. You had agreed almost immediately, even if you had your doubts about the reasoning behind the arrangement, you’d rather marry someone you knew than a stranger.

You wished you’d thought things through better, waited a bit longer before giving your answer. Clearly Ajax had made up his mind but now, after the shock of the news began to wear off, you felt like you owed your parents and yourself a discussion. Even if you felt betrayed, like their decision degraded you to an object instead of their daughter, you wanted to head their side; if only to get closure for your own aching heart.

Instead of answering you, Ajax turns around to meet your eyes. His eyes had always had the ability to suck you in like a void, they’re never clear - always muddy, like there was a side of himself he hid from you; you could never find your reflection on them. It took you a while to get used to them, to their empty, numb look that sent chills down your spine all those years ago.

The room feels small as you both look at each other, you sit on the bed naked and he stands in front of the door as if he were trapping you in, it’s silent and intimate and it makes your skin crawl. His expression is one you can’t read, maybe all those years in the Fatui had taught him how to make his enemies cower thanks to his presence alone, because the harder you tried to understand what his gaze meant, the less you felt you knew about him.

“Yes, you said you’d marry me.” He states and, even if it wasn't phrased as such, it felt more like an order than a recalling of events.

“I know,” you mumble, “and I… I like you, Ajax, I really do, and I’d love to be with you, but… but I can’t run away from this without hearing them out, you know?”

“You said you loved me.” His expression changes into a frown; Had you lied to him?

He probably sounds childish, his sentences short and repetitive like that of a toddler throwing a tantrum, but the truth was he simply couldn’t believe that you’d even hesitate to marry him; his brain completely short-circuited as he tries to understand why on Earth you’d ever think of giving anybody a chance when you had him.

“I mean, I-I do,” your cheeks feel hot as you’re quick to answer, at least you think you love him, “but… mom and dad wouldn’t just do this without a reason and you know that. I can’t just leave and never see them again without their explanation, even if it’s bad… I need some sort of closure; I can’t accept they’d just do this to me for no reason.”

“As if that changed anything, they gave your hand away for Mora, my love” He retorts, completely bewildered at your words; they’d tried to give you away to some lowlife, they hadn’t consulted you, they were going to spring it up on you one day and expect you to get over it the next, “Does a reason even matter?”

“It does, at least I… I think it does,” you look down at yourself and notice droplets falling down against the coat, staining the heavy leather with your sorrow, you were crying and hadn’t even realized it, “I don’t want to hate them… I don’t want them to hate me.”

He goes quiet when he catches sight of your tears. He freezes, his chest tightens and he feels himself grow dizzy – it’s the same foreign feeling he got when he first heard of the engagement, he feels his knees buckle under his weight and himself sway with every step he takes in your direction. They were beautiful, your tears, so delicate and clear, they shone like crystals when the soft afternoon light came through the window just right; he wishes he could collect them in his palm and weave a necklace to keep with himself, a reminder of your fragile heart he desperately needed to protect.

You looked so vulnerable, naked and crying, covered only by his coat. It was an intoxicating sight, he wished he could take a photograph and engrave it on his eyelids so every time he blinked he’d see this scene play out. You broke so beautifully, it was haunting to hear your voice break into sobs and wails as you mourned the life you thought you had, but it sounded beautiful to his ears nonetheless. It makes him feel insane, it was taking too much self-control from his part not to jump on you.

He sits down once more next to you, shaking limbs trapping you in his arms as he rubbed your back softly. As you cried uncontrollably, he found his cheeks hurting from the large grin on his face; it couldn’t be helped, no matter how much he tried to will it away, the joy he felt as he saw you cry was too much for him to hide.

“It’s okay,” he makes no effort to quell your fears, instead he chooses vague words of comfort to let it fester in your heart, “you won’t need to see them ever again, you’ll have me instead.”

He feels you hiccup, too deep in your own despair to formulate words. Your shaking body clings to his, you felt so scared and alone; How were you supposed to accept such a cruel, unforgiving truth? What could you possibly do to ease the pain in your heart as you thought about your parents and siblings, who had so easily given you away to a stranger. They felt so far away from you, it felt as if your whole life had been a long dream, nothing but a fantasy you were unaware could break any second, leaving you afraid and confused as you awakened to a reality you could have never seen coming.

“Come, I’ll help you get dressed,” Ajax helps you up as he speaks, essentially forcing you to face reality and displace the fogginess in your mind, he’s gentle as he makes his way with you to your closet - you vaguely note that it was still full, unlike the rest of your room it seemed he hadn’t touched it save for a few drawers here and there -, “the sooner you get ready,” he keeps an arm around you while he goes through the rack of your clothes, making sure you stay close to him, “the sooner we can get out of here.”

You nod, your head hurts but you can’t seem to stop the tears.

Maybe he was right, maybe it was a bad idea for you to talk to them; there was truly no excuse, was there? You doubted anything they’d say would take the feeling of betrayal away, they had treated you like an object, completely forfeiting your own personhood and giving you away to a stranger for Mora. No matter how desperately you wanted to understand what they’d done and why they’d done it, the more your head and heart hurt – it was such a cruel, heartless thing to do, to throw away your own blood to whoever bid the highest for them.

You can’t even muster the strength to facilitate the Harbinger’s task of dressing you, your whole body felt heavy as he made sure to layer on your clothes, it was near impossible for you to even stand up by yourself without your legs swaying and your knees buckling under your weight. It’s only due to the ginger’s persistence and strength that you don’t collapse.

By the time you’re ready and boarding the carriage, you’re tired and too drunk in your own misery, to question why, even as it neared nighttime, your parents nor your siblings hadn’t come home yet. Not that you cared, at least not right now, seeing them was the last thing you wanted to do.

The ride home is peaceful, you’d fallen asleep early on and laid beside Childe as he caressed your sleeping cheek and gazed out the window. Your head laid on his lap, broad thighs becoming a make-shift pillow for the ride, a blanket covering your body to keep you warm while you both made your way to his residence in the capital through the cold night.

Bored, deep blue eyes mindlessly gaze at the scenery passing by, his thoughts too jumbled together for him to admire the scenery. His thoughts stray back to your mother’s horrified face as she walked in on you together in bed earlier, he chuckles to himself as he recalls the screech she let out; it felt nice to see her so uncomfortable, but it wasn’t nice enough he’d forgive her for what she’d tried to do to you; Separate you from him.

“Ajax?” She finally gasps out, her hand points at him in an accusatory manner, “What… what is going on?”

When did that boy come back? He’d been gone for years, the last she remembered him was as a young teenager going off to join the Fatui; what was he doing in bed with you? You hadn’t mentioned him once during all these years, she had thought you’d long since forgotten about him. So why on Earth was he laying in bed with you - naked? Had he pressured you to do so? You two had such a close relationship, there was no way you wouldn’t have mentioned him to her if you two were dating - her mind was racing with a million thoughts and all of them left her worried and confused. It’s clear she’s not doing well, her breaths are visibly unsteady, her chest rising and falling unevenly while she audibly gasped for air, she’s shaking so hard you can see her knees wobble as she tries to steady herself against the doorframe; this wasn’t something she could have ever seen in coming.

Ajax couldn’t care less, the whole spectacle was boring and wholly unnecessary; she wouldn’t get to see you ever again, she should be grateful he hadn’t simply taken you home with him the minute he saw you.

“I came back for my beloved,” he answers carelessly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, he makes a vague gesture towards your sleeping form as if to make the point clearer, “can’t have a wedding without a bride, after all.”

“Wedding? You and her… are getting married?”

“Yes, is it that hard to understand? Come on, ma’am, everyone could see that she and I were going to get married,” he scoffs, “you said so yourself multiple times.”

“But,” she looks visibly confused, “that was back when you two were together everyday, Ajax… you haven’t seen each other in years. You can’t seriously think that you’re getting married because you both said so when you were children.”

The audacity this woman had was near parody, clearly she knew nothing about you nor your life and it made him feel sick. She had the privilege to be a constant part of your life during all those years he was away and yet she clearly spent them doing Archons’ knows what, he was growing visibly angry the more she spoke.

“We’ve known each other long enough,” he shoots her a glare, “and I’ve known my whole life I’d marry her, whether we’ve been seeing each other everyday or not - we’re getting married and that’s final.”

“Did she agree to this?” Your mother asks, her voice rising until it was near a squeak.

“Of course she agreed to marry me!” He snaps, his tone venomous; Could she just shut the hell up already?

“Then why didn’t she mention it to her father nor myself?”

“Because we agreed to get married today,” he puts your sleeping body aside, slowly standing up and tying a loose blanket around his hips, “and neither of you were here.”

“Today?” She echos, “You came back today and asked her to marry you?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I did,” he shoots her a glance as he picks up his clothes, slowly putting them on as he goes on, “and she said yes, I think you get the point by now.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” she mumbled to herself, she made her way inside the room, careful as to not wake you up, “there’s no way she was serious about marrying you. You… you’re practically a stranger to all of us at this point, Ajax.”

His pants were on at this point, his blouse now balled into his fist as he tried to control his annoyance. This was starting to get pathetic on her end.

“I will have you know,” he interrupts her, turning around to make eye contact with the woman once more to make his point clear, “that not only have we been in constant communication since I left, she agreed quite happily to the proposal - I don’t understand what exactly is not clicking, ma’am.”

“Of course she’d agree,” she exclaims, her hands flying up in desperation as she continues, “she has liked you all her life; but were you two dating until this point? What even was the relationship between you two; how am I supposed to support her getting engaged with a man we haven’t seen or heard from in years. Never once did she mention you, Ajax, she never spoke of a partner much less a marriage, all her life she’s made it clear that’s one of the least of her concerns and you want me to believe her mind changed in one day because you came and had sex with her? You’re insane if you think I’ll allow it.”

He feels himself freeze, most of what she’s said up until now feels like background noise the moment he finishes processing her words. You never mentioned him to your parents? He knew you hadn’t mentioned the letters, not all of them at least - he’s asked you not to, but never once in the almost eight years since he left had you mentioned him - not even as a potential suitor nor as a lover. That hag is lying, right? There’s no way you’d do this to him, right? You loved him, you said you did when he was fucking you just minutes ago, you wouldn’t lie to him, no.

“Listen to me, I don’t care if you want to get married to her - but there’s an order to how things are done,” your mother shoots your sleeping form a glance, “you could have at least let us know beforehand you’d be coming, you… you should have spoken to us; you know we would have given you our blessing if you’d waited a bit longer. This is the first time you’ve seen each other in years, emotions are running high - at least give her some more time to think this through, you already bedded her… don’t make this harder on her - she was beginning to move on, she’d been planning to move and now you’re telling me she’s throwing it all away? For a man she’s barely seen in years no less.”

“You’re… you’re wrong.” He mumbles under his breath, “You’re wrong, we both love each other.”

“Listen to me,” had your mother’s voice always been so grating to the ear, “she might have said yes to you now but how do you know she won’t regret it? When did you ask her? Today, the same day you come for the first time to see her? You think that under all the emotions that’ll come up seeing you again she’ll be thinking rationally? Was this even a conversation you both had previously, Ajax? How are you so sure she loves you like a wife and not just as a friend?”

His movements slow down, his hands feel heavy as he buttons up his shirt; can she just shut up? What did she think she was doing, lying to get him out of the way? Insinuating you’d ever regret him, what a joke - you needed him to survive.

“I’m saying this not just as a parent but as a wife, you can’t rush into these things, you can’t spring the question up suddenly and not take the time to consider it properly! You… you immediately had sex with her and you want me to believe this is out of love and not physical attraction? You couldn’t even wait for her father and I to get home. You’re telling me that both of you are completely sure of what you’re doing, you want me to believe that? I’m not letting my daughter make such a rash decision in a day -”

“So what if it was in only a day, huh? You’re just looking for any excuse to oppose us getting together,” he’s quick to interrupt her, “because you are trying to get her to marry some old fuck for some quick mora.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You think I don’t know, huh? You don’t care about her at all, do you? Lying to me that she’d never mention me, as if you didn’t know we were together all this time… acting like you care about her when there’s some fucking bitch downstairs you sold her off to.”

“What… What's this about selling my daughter?” “Don’t act stupid on me,” he doesn’t even bother buttoning the rest of his shirt before he’s pushing your mother out of the room and following her out the door, “I tried to be civil, but I’m getting really damn tired of you criticizing us and you keep on lying.”

She hits her back against the wall, she yelps in surprise but the Harbinger makes no acknowledgement of any discomfort he may be causing. Instead, gloved hands shoot up and take hold of her shoulders as he continues going at her; there’s a crazed look in his eyes as he keeps on speaking, getting progressively annoyed the longer the conversation went on.

“We – I, we never sold her off,” your mother pants, she looks up at him in confusion and fear, “who do you take us for?”

“I have the records,” he pushes her down, “there’s no use in lying to me, ma’am – I know everything I need to know.”

“You’re crazy,” she spits out, “you’re fucking crazy… I don’t what the fuck happened to you, but I’m sure as hell now that you are absolutely not getting anywhere near my daughter!”

“Shut up!” He picks her up and throws her against the wall, there’s a loud thud as her body slowly sinks into the ground, he corners her with his body, “Shut the fuck up, you hag.”

“Let go!” Tears are streaming down her eyes as she pleads,“Help, someone help! Please, upstairs… come upstairs now!”

“Listen here,” his eyes are wide open, his posture threatening as he leans over her shaking body, he’s rough in his handling of her and he knows it but chooses not to care, “she said she’d marry me, she said she loves me, she said so and so it is. There’s no debate, got it? If I want to fuck her two minutes after seeing her, I do so, and if I want to marry her after not seeing her for years, I do so. We don’t need a lying bitch getting in our way, you understand that, right? I don’t need you taking her away from me to give her to someone else. She was mine before I left, she was mine when I left, she’s mine right now, and she’ll be mine as long as I’m alive, so you either shut up and accept it or I’ll get rid of you and your fucking mistake of a family.”

“Get off of her!”

Oh, your father was here.

It’s strange to think that at some point, Ajax would have considered him something akin to a second father - especially now as his stomach filled itself with venomous rage at the mere sight of the older man.

“I said get off,” he runs towards the younger soldier, at an impressive speed for a man his age, his hands lunge forward as if to tackle him but it takes one hydro blade’s slash for him to stop dead in his tracks, “I… what do you want?”

Your father looks visibly worried as the ginger brands his weapon, the sight of an unfamiliar vision user threatening your spouse is one that would make anyone think twice before taking their next step.

“Do you seriously not recognize me?” Tartaglia laughs incredulously, “Come on, sir… I was only gone for a couple of years.”

“Ajax?” Your mother nods her head frantically as your father finally puts a name to the face of the strange man in his house, “What the hell are you doing, boy?”

“He’s going on about,” your mother gasps for air, “marrying her and - and, us selling her or something!” The awkward position she found herself in made it hard for her to comfortably speak, even so, she made sure to spit it out as quickly as possible. Her chest is heaving while she desperately tries to make your father understand the absurdity of the situation, the hydro blade in his hand was simply too close to her skin for her comfort - the power of Harbinger was nothing to scoff at and she wanted nothing more than to never find herself in this position ever again.

“We can talk this out,” your father’s hands shake as he tries to slowly approach the ginger, “there’s clearly been a misunderstanding…”

“There has been no misunderstanding, sir,” he laughs, “I know damn well what I saw and what I heard.”

“We would never -” “Yes, you would!” He nearly shouts, but he restrains himself - if only because you’re still sleeping nearby, his whole body shakes as he tries to control the volume of his voice, “And I’m getting really fucking tired of you acting like you wouldn’t, you know? Just admit it and maybe, just maybe, we can work things out.”

“We would never hurt our daughter like that, Ajax,” the older man tries to explain, “please, understand that… let my wife go and we can talk this out properly, please.”

“Talk it out?” Ajax looks at him incredulously, “There’s nothing to talk about if you won’t admit to your mistakes, sir.” “B-but we didn’t -”

“Shut up!” His blue eyes are wide open, the crazed look in them was enough to send a chill down a grown man’s body. Why couldn’t they just admit to trying to separate the both of you? Why were they so desperate to lie? He knows what he heard, he knows they were trying to ruin his chances to be with you. They were clearly trying to get in his way, they had to be conspiring against the two of you - there was no other reason as to why you’d been so hesitant to agree to his proposal, why you’d been scared to see the truth; they were brainwashing you into forgetting him, doubting him. They had to have known he’d come back, there was no way he wouldn’t have, it’d take death itself for him to give up on you.

He couldn’t take it anymore, he couldn’t stand to listen to your parents’ pathetic attempts at covering up their lies.

Your mother’s words die in her throat as he knocks her out with a single blow, it’s by sheer luck the impact against her skull hadn’t straight up killed her. Your father doesn’t even get to react, not even a pip can be mumbled, before Tartaglia is making his way towards him at rapid speeds, the young man’s strength was enough to tackle him down. The Fatui soldier makes sure to use as much strength as possible, all in an attempt to get his opponent to knock his head against something and pass out with as little fuss as possible.

It’s almost pathetic how quickly he’d taken both of them down, in just a few minutes the couple was knocked out cold - not yet dead nor mortally injured but not awake, no longer able to annoy Ajax or disturb you.

It’s almost pathetic how quickly he’d taken both of them down, in just a few minutes the couple was knocked out cold, both lying motionless on the ground, their limbs sprawled awkwardly; not yet dead but no longer able to annoy Ajax or disturb you, much to the former’s delight.

Footsteps could be heard from the first floor as the guests downstairs started getting worried, standing up and roaming around calling your parents’ names - too polite to dare wander into the house but too anxious about their absence to stay completely still, the thick wooden floors muffled the sounds but not enough that the commotion upstairs couldn’t be heard. One of the many benefits of Snezhnayan architecture was the isolation you could achieve in a big enough house, he’ll keep it in mind when he picks a house to start a family with you in.

Due to your house’s size, Ajax wouldn’t have to worry too much about Andrei or his parents hearing too much, meaning he’d be able to keep the element of surprise.

The Vision user knew he’d have to avoid the dining room, the place where the guests currently found themselves, lest he lose control and kill his former subordinate the minute he laid eyes on him, however his reasoning was anything but noble; Tartaglia simply wasn’t too keen on the idea of letting him get away with his crimes just yet.

To him, death would be too soft a punishment, it would have to be a fate worse than, not just for Andrei but every single person who was involved in the scheme.

His gloved hands make their way to check their pulses, both weak but still there - good.

With a satisfied huff he makes his way down the hall and staircase, quick to dismiss his signature hydro blades as he purposely makes his presence known with loud, rhythmic footsteps any soldier who’d served under him would recognize.

Years of hanging out under this very roof meant Ajax knew exactly where your back entrance was, which meant that he could enjoy instilling a sense of dread into the people downstairs without risking being found.

With a lazy smirk, Ajax purposely lets a couple of framed pictures and paintings fall from the wall, his hand tracing the walls and making sure to create as much sound as possible. As he approaches the dining room, he can hear the confused, hushed whispers as someone tries to peek into the hallway but, by the time the young man finally reaches the door to look around, Ajax has long since exited the house as he makes his way to recall the soldiers he’d stationed around the neighborhood.

With a wave of his hand soldiers seemingly appeared from thin air, emerging from bushes and rounding dark corners, soon the Harbinger is surrounded by men awaiting his orders.

“Is the Galkin residency ready?” He asks, making direct eye contact with a shorter soldier.

“Yes, sir.” The man nods.

“Good,” he combs a hand through his hair as he looks at your childhood home, “there’s a knocked out couple on the second floor, the rest are in the dining room.”

“Yes, sir.” A chorus of voices respond, mechanically a group of the soldiers turn around and march into the house.

“Keep it down, will you? If they scream, knock them out,” he adds half-heartedly, “she’s sleeping, so don’t wake her up.”

The leader of the group nods enthusiastically, making sure to echo the sentiment to his men before making their way inside the house.

As their operation takes place, Tartaglia turns back around to address his remaining companions; “Make sure to make it look as realistic as possible, we need the charges to stick.”

“Yes, sir.”

He asks to see the boxes full of fabricated evidence one last time. There are at least six large boxes filled to the brim, but he focuses on one. The one that holds the most damning evidence for the most serious crime anyone could commit in the land of Cryo; Treason against the Tsaritsa. Cold, blue eyes look with a gleeful glint at the falsified letters, penned to look exactly like your family members’ handwriting, there’s more; photographs, bank records, falsified shipment records, and more.

He gives one final nod, officially sealing everyone’s fates. From this moment onwards, your family and the Galkin’s would be charged with treason against the Tsaritsa and conspiracy to overthrow the Fatui. Sure, many others, perhaps even innocent people, will unjustly be implicated but he’ll make sure to pin this on the worst people he can. He’ll get rid of two birds with one stone while he’s at it.

It takes only a couple of minutes before everyone is being pulled outside of the house and led into carriages. It’s a humiliating sight, the ones who were awake were panicked, some even crying, the ones who had to be subdued needed to be carried by two or more people as they were unceremoniously dragged away.

Ajax purposely hides away, making sure to make a mental note of who was being taken and their condition. Andrei and his father are the only Galkin family members out of the four present who hadn’t been knocked out. Your parents, your eldest sister, and younger brother are knocked out - your elder brother, and your other sister are the only ones awake. There are a couple of other people, their partners, and a few he didn’t recognize immediately. In total, there were 16 people taken from your home.

Tartaglia made a point to only reveal himself as they finally dragged Andrei out, the final person out the house. His hands were bound behind him, a confused look clear in his eyes as he desperately tried to understand what was going on. His green eyes finally make contact with Ajax’s, they widen.

“Sir? What is going on -” He’s cut off by a harsh shove from the soldier walking him, he stumbles.

Ajax almost feels bad at the sight, Andrei was a good man - if only he didn’t try to get with you. He was young, unlike the idea he’d planted into your head, Galkin had only recently turned 27 last month, and he’d been a promising soldier until he was honorably discharged after a failed mission took the lives of most of his troupe. However, if you found out about his closeness in age to yourself, you’d probably not have reacted as poorly - maybe you’d even think about giving the fucker a chance. After all, people like Andrei - honorable young men who sacrificed a part of himself for his nation - were always appealing to the masses. But never as appealing as Ajax was to you, he couldn’t be.

The Harbinger turns around on his heels, not even sparing another glance to the arrested individuals, before making his way inside your house.

It’s filled with strangers, their serious faces evident as they set up the scene - their movements calculated as they did their best to create the image of guilt. Even though there were easily five or more people in every room, the whole place felt eerily empty. In a way, he almost feels as if you two were the only people in the world - you, the sleeping beauty waiting for him to arrive.

There’s a spring in his step as he pushes the door to your room open, his eyes immediately find you buried within his coat. He’s not surprised you had managed to sleep through it all, you’d always been a heavy sleeper even during your youth.

He ushers a soldier in with a bunch of empty boxes, signaling for her to start packing your things up.

“Wake her up and you’re dead.” He adds while he makes his way towards you, a cheeky smile on his face as he makes himself comfortable next to you.

The soldier nods, making sure to be as quiet as humanly possible as to not anger the man in front of her - at this point, everyone in the house knew that he was not exaggerating when he said such things. When it came to you, the eleventh Fatui Harbinger knew no bounds. She turns around, making sure not to look too much at either of you in fear of upsetting him.

He patiently waits for the woman to finish packing all she could fit in the boxes. By now, he’s cuddling you in his arms, never allowing you the chance to so much as squirm away from him. It’s a suffocating, possessive hold he has on you, like he was scared if he let you go even for a second you’d leave him.

“Good, thank you.” He doesn’t even look at her - too focused gazing lovingly at your sleeping form. She says nothing but bows before leaving, desperate to leave the room as soon as possible.

The minute she closes the door he pulls himself away from you, making sure to not wake you up with any sudden movements - a concern he seemingly hadn’t had before when he’d been tormenting your parents.

He’d done his best to conceal himself but the truth was that the minute he saw you again, he felt himself growing hard again. Your naked body was hidden enough he didn’t feel the need to kick the soldier from before out, but he knew - he knew that beneath it you were still dirty with him, you were bruised from his handling of you, your neck filled with his kisses and bites. Just knowing that was enough for him to get dizzy, as if all the blood that was meant to flow to his brain had been redirected to his dick. His white pants were tented up, it almost hurts from how erect it was - just the memory of you taking him inside had a wet patch forming in his underwear.

“Look at what you do, baby,” he moans, his voice breathy as he pulls his zipper down, slowly freeing his hard-on, “ah… hah, I want to be inside you again.”

Just the cold air hitting his bare cock is enough to send a jolt of electricity down his spine, he just wants to feel you again, it’s all he wants - to be inside you again and to fuck you until all you can think of his your future husband’s cock. He takes your hand, so much smoother than his battle-worn one, and cautiously shoves two of your fingers into his mouth as a make-shift gag.

He keeps one hand there while the other one slowly caresses his slit, his touch almost a ghost on his skin as he makes sure to tease it until a glob of pre starts to form from how sensitive he already was. He takes a small amount of pre-cum and uses it as lube, making sure to spread it slowly across his tip and down his shaft with long strokes.

He’s trying his best not to bite down on your fingers but it was so hard not to, instead he occupies himself by sucking on them in sync with his hand.

“Mhm!” He accidentally touches his vein, the thick bump was extra sensitive against the cold air and your scent, his whole body twitches.

He can’t stop his hand from gaining speed and force, the longer he’s here with you the more his hand moves. It just not enough, his hips thrust upwards as he gives into himself, fucking into his balled up hand. His tongue laps at your fingers, his lips wrap tightly around them as he tries not to bite into your flesh; he can’t stop his hand from tightening against his cock.

He continues like this for a while, humping into the air like a bitch in heat, making sure to not cum - he didn’t want this to end too soon, he wanted to continue feeling like this next to you. In your room, a place that smelt so much like you it was overstimulating him, the taste of your lips against his tongue was intoxicating - he didn’t want today to end.

“Hah, mhm…” He chokes against his moan; it’s starting to get too much for him.

It’s then that he makes the mistake of looking over to you. Just the sight is enough for him to cum, it takes just a few strokes for him to finally spill.

“F-Fuck!” He can’t stop the moan that leaves his lips, he takes your fingers out of mouth in fear of hurting you but he refuses to let it go, gripping tightly while he lets himself ride the wave of pleasure he feels.

It takes him a second or two until he finally calms down, his dick growing sensitive as he slows down his strokes until he finally stops. His chest feels heavy as he pants, his heart beating painfully loud - he wonders if maybe you could hear it even in your sleep, a part of him hopes so. His whole body is on fire but he thinks this is the best he’s ever felt, just being near you was enough to make him feel like a God.

“I… I love you,” he pants, his fingers almost leave a dent in your hands from how tightly he’s gripping it, “hah… I love you so, so much…”

Almost a little too much.

#yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin #yandere ajax #yandere tartaglia #yandere childe #yandere x reader #yandere gi #yandere #yandere male #yandere x you #yandere boy x reader #male yandere #๋࣭ ancient scrolls #yandere genshin imagines

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seventhcallisto · 7 months

Text

Chapter 11 — "you promise?"

—Deep Down.

Toc/cw; ateez being absolutely fking whipped for you. Mutual pining(they don't know its mutual tho). unironic use of alpha(I'm sorry ik it's bad). omega, omega, and more omega. (you'll understand that soon) fluffy but also really angst but dw it's gonna be okay I SWEAR. You overworking, mention of diet culture (for one line) and the struggles of being an idol, suggestive undertones towards the end. If I forget warnings, it's bc I don't know or forgot to add them.

There's a forbidden trail you follow. One you never thought you'd be led on. Wooyoungs hands are firm and soft when he pulls you along, and your tears dry quickly. Something you've gotten used to with time, the way his soft, smooth hand holds your own. You wish to be able to feel them for the first time again.

The first time. It was a fan sign. It's one of the first ones. You can't believe how nervous you were, yet you stood your ground and faced the crowd. Deep and methodical breaths filled your lungs.

Wooyoungs hand slips into yours under the table, out of view from everyone. If it was accidental, he doesn't seem to notice. Back then, you were just as small and niave. He squeezes once. Then twice. You wait. Feeling as if you should anticipate something.

You watch him from the corner of your eye. With his free hand, he waves, on his chubby face is a smile. His purple hair sways from the fans overhead. You want to push it out of his face.

You squeeze. Not once. Not twice. But three times. 'I love you.' The three squeezes. Letting the words echo in your mind. You don't expect him to know it. Something you learned when you were a kid in a foreign place, pretending to know what those words actually meant.

He squeezes back, one time.

You don't even pull your head up to look at the car. Don't even bother to watch where you step when you get into it. Wooyoung does the guiding for you. Doubtfully. Messily. He's never been good on his feet unless he was dancing.

That's not true, but he wants to make it seem like he's not nervous at the realization.

You, the beta of the pack. The one he's got closest with as soon as you met. You, the slick smiling, bias wrecking, only girl, 9th member of his permanent group. You, who he loves to squeeze, tease, and mess around with. the most calm, level-headed, beta person he knows.

The alpha can't believe it. Well, not to stereotype. But he's definitely stereotyping when he says you are- were the definition of beta.

You're an omega? He doesn't understand it himself.

It's a flashback to the day seonghwa found your bottle of scent suppressants.

It takes him a while to realize what it is, fiddling with the bottle in his hands.

"What's this for?" He asks, yunho. His left eyebrow raised. Yunho sits across from him on the free couch. He sits on the edge, scratching at his hair. The energy he holds is as if he's about to defend the reason he slipped the bottle into seonghwas hand when they got through the front door from filming. And he does.

"Have you been noticing anything off with her?" He points to the bottle, eyebrows raised. Seonghwa tries to connect the invisible dots yunho is throwing at him.

He nods. But he speaks up, "she's been different since she came back from the hospital. She's tired." He defends your honor even if it isn't something you said directly. Seonghwa looks back down at the yellow label. 'New Box' is the headline of the bottles sticker.

'Scent suppressants for all sexes, works best for omegas and betas' the smaller fine print says under it.

"Did you steal this from her bag???" Seonghwas jaw drops, he finally connects some of those invisible dots. A picture is beginning to form.

Yunho shoots up from his seat, pacing between the couches. "I did, but earlier today at the monitor, you remember, yeah?" Yunho looks to seonghwa briefly. His hand falls to his hip.

"Yes.. and?" How could seonghwa forget the display his younger membered showed with you? He had half a mind to turn away and walk. It's not like he was jealous, not with yunho.

He's just not a big fan of being touchy in public, but he wouldn't have mind if he was there, telling you you're perfect along with yunho. He doesn't think about it any further.

"When I was showing her the monitor, I leaned over, and when I did, I smelt.." yunho rubs a hand down his face. "I smelt her, really her," even yunho sounds crazy to himself.

"You know that artificial smells she's had since she came back?" Yunho jumps to the deep end. "Yeah?" Seonghwa sighs. Yunho takes his seat across seonghwa again. "That's what that is, and since I helped myself to her bag. I found a bunch of other things too"

Seonghwa doesn't want to pry into your personal stuff. But yunho doesn't sound too far-fetched. Yunho pulls out his phone, handing it to seonghwa. On the screen is a picture. The first thing he sees is a couple of small roll on perfumes. Clear, tiny fluid filled bottles without labels. A couple of medications he knows you keep on hand. Headache relief and sore body relief pills. Your tiny knick nacks take up the bottom of the bag, it's endearing really, everything in the bag screams you.

'Heat suppressants'

His eyes bulge. He zooms in with the pads of his fingers, zooming in on the bottle. Like birth control, it's got a subtle design to blend in.

Seonghwas heart leaps to his throat. He blinks, at a lost of words. "Thats not all" yunho leans behind the couch tucked against the wall. Where he pulls out something he hid.

Yunho throws the brown bag he recognizes from earlier this week, from when you got back from the hospital. The bag san grabbed. It's zipped open.

Tea bags and cake recipes in plain boxes. Shampoo and conditioner seonghwa is unfamiliar with. Perfumes and bottles of lotion he knows none of the guys or you use. But most distinctly is the smell of you. The scent of you. Vetiver, pumpkin, ambrette, and morning rain. There's the linger of alcohol and artificial scents in it.

Artificial beta you. It's surprising since it's coming from a bag and not the direct source that is your comforting aroma.

"She's an omega" yunho breathlessly says, taking the words straight from seonghwas' thoughts. The news isn't as shocking as he thought I'd be, it's like he already knew deep down.

Hongjoong doesn't know anything about that. The day he returns to the apartment at 4 am, he's surprised to see you wrapped up all comfy on couch. For a second his eyes watch the screen flicker across your soft features.

And when he takes his seat next to you, his hand drifts to find you. Subconsciously, his finger touches the soft skin on your ankle. He doesn't dare move any further.

He knows his hand is cold, his rings even colder. When you shiver, but don't pull away. You unconsciously drive him crazy. The back and forth conversation is at the very back of his mind. He misses you. He missed you a lot. And since he's been so busy, he hasn't gotten the chance to actually be there with you ever since you got back.

That week without you was miserable.

"I wanted to wait for you," your soft voice says. It echos in his head and peirces the silence that settles over the two of you. God, if only you knew how long he's been saying that for years to imaginary you that loves him equally so. Whenever you got close, and he wanted to lean in and kiss you all over.

But it's all in his head. And that's where it'll stay.

When your hand grips his, he leans in so you're not contorting yourself. "Lay with me?" You don't have to ask twice. Hongjoong scoots up right next to you. He drinks in your makeup free face, bare skin on display. A little breath you let out has him looking down at your plump lips, he quickly looks back up, hoping you didn't catch his stare.

"Nightmare?" He whispers, that's the only reason you stayed up, that's the only reason you want him so close. It's his duty as the pack captain to keep you safe in his close proximity. He pushes out his scent, hoping to ease you.

Your soft breathing fans his face, your droopy eyes slowly closing. His favorite smell in the entire world is you. Distant Vetiver. He breathes out. Watching your face relax. Soft Pumpkin. His hand falls over your hip. He wants so desperately to pull you closer. ambrette, and morning rain. He didn't know morning rain could smell like anything, but it's you.

You. It's always been you. All day, ever since you walked up that hill and gave him the most content of hug when you got back, the smell you unconsciously pushed out from the scent gland on your neck. he's been thinking about it.

You don't smell like those familiar scents anymore. You smell completely different now.

Sweet sugary nectar that enraptured his every being. And he isn't upset about it. Something in him is very fond of it.

When he wakes up the morning after. He doesn't want to move an inch. But he knows if he doesn't, your neck will be sore from the awkward way it lays on his arm. He sits up slightly, wordlessly wiggling his arm from under your head. He makes sure it doesn't fall with his hand cushioning you.

For a minute, he doesn't slip his hand from behind your head. His right thumb caresses your cheek, soft and shallow. You lean into his touch whilst you sleep, and he smiles down at you, a small snicker passes his lips at the situation. He bites his grin back.

Hongjoong wants nothing more than to be wrapped around your finger. To be the guy you want. To take care of you like you do him.

Hongjoong wants you to come to him with the truth when you're ready.

Jongho walks past your room. Once, twice, five times. Every time he wants to knock, he hears you on the other side. And he freezes up. He's like some lovesick puppy crawling at your door, whining to be let in.

Fuck it.

He knocks and pushes your door open. You're spread on the bed, your comforter and sheets scrunched up around you. The sun from behind him casts on you like an angel. The hue of sleepiness in your eyes when you lock them with his has him gulping nervously.

"Want to get some breakfast?" He sighs into his words, letting the anxiety out. Your smile- That makes jonghos' heartbeat thump loudly in his ears- lights up your face.

"Yes"

The walk is short, something jongho isn't fond of when he gets the chance to have these moments with you. Your shoulders bump. And he pulls the door open for you. The crowd only makes him walk closer to you.

You wrap your arm in his. Do you know what you're doing? You're killing him. Truly. Even the tiny things hold him hostage.

When he goes to order, you don't cut him off. That's the first red flag he sees. You're so independently you. It's custom for you to do so.

When you lean up to whisper in his ear. That's the second one. You never lean up to anybody. Usually, people lean down to hear you. Not the other way around. Still, he meets you halfway.

Jongho slides next to you, the excuse of it's too crowded on this tip of his tongue if you ask. You never do. You don't pull away when his shoulder bumps yours. "How's your elbow?" His fingers graze your arm.

You look up at him, your brows crease. It's then jongho thinks about how short you are. It distracts him only for a second.

You respond simply, shrugging him off. That's red flag number three. Jonghos eyebrows furrow, and his face pulls at his mask.

"If it wasn't, why were you in the hospital for a week?"

He watches the war of emotions flash your features. And that's the final straw for him. You clearly lie when you mumble out an excuse. He wants to press you. What are you lying about?

Why would you lie?

"Tests? What for?" He leans on his shoulder, staring at you from over the black mask on his face. He takes charge of the conversation. He waits.

"Because i.. because I'm a -" Ding!

The ding signifies jongho clicking everything into place. It's like a puzzle he's been working on. How you smelt different when he hugged you after you returned. How docile you looked this morning. How you leaned up into him. How you grabbed him. All of this is so uncommon for you.

Jongho is so used to you looking throughly messy in the morning. It's not something he dislikes (he likes how you look always), but it's so you to be messy. You leaning up into him, he doesn't ignore the way you take a big inhale in his ear before you speak. It's not his imagination. These things are so unlike you. Yes, you are the beta standard. Everyone agrees. Even you. But this.. You're being so.. he can't wrap his head around it.

Because.

He walks up to the counter, taking everything he ordered in his strong grip.

Because you're an omega and jongho is the alpha who figured it out.

Jonghos feet past faster than yours on the concrete. He doesn't slow down because he's locked in thought. He doesn't even notice when he sets a tone he didn't mean. He's gotta ask someone else about this.

He's got to figure something out.

Mingi is so clueless when it comes to you. Mingi is.. actually very clueless all the time. When yunho bursts into their shared bedroom. Ripping off the blanket from mingi. He's got half a mind to sit there, blinking his eyes in a sleepy daze. Yunho explains his master plan.

Mingi doesn't register any of it until yunho tells him a second time.

Mingi isn't unhappy about being told by yunho that you're an omega. He's completely still out of it. He's mostly unhappy he didn't figure it out himself.

It's very mingi to come to your room with a pillow that smells heavily like him. Your room is the most comforting in the apartment. He likes to think he contributes to it because his scent lingers in your bed the next morning. A certain possessiveness mingi indulges in.

Your sleepy face turns towards him. Beckoning him in.

He forgets the story yunho prepared for him.

You are so pretty. "Can I sleep in here tonight?" He fiddles with your doorknob when you look at him. He knows if the media got wind of how pretty you actually are, they'd be all over you in a second. He's somewhat happy the makeup artist don't do your specific features justice. When you let him in, he kicks his feet when he falls on your bed. The bed that smells like you.

The sugary sweetness under the mask of your beta scent is something he particularly takes a full second to shove his face in.

"I sleep better in your bed," he finally says, pulling his face up from your spot that smells specifically like you and no one else. Your fingers pull the glasses off his nose. He forgot he even had them on. As you lean over to put his glasses on your side table. He takes an indulgent whiff of you.

"It's because my room isn't messy," he can hear the smile in your words. It makes him smile. He bites his cheek gently. In the silence he tries to remember what yunho wanted him to say.

"I'm sorry again," he murmurs. And like you always do, you reassure him. It isn't his fault. There's no witty remark, something you usually make because you prefer to keep things light and he knows that.

Your excuse doesn't make him upset either, he doesn't think anything you do will make him upset. When he says something that makes you laugh, his heart pumps blood up his neck and his cheek grown warm.

He knows he's awake enough that it's not the drowsiness that takes over his next moves. Mingi searches for your hand under the pillow, when he finds it, he pulls it closer to his side. A satisfied sigh leaves his parted lips.

The softness of your skin to mingi is like falling into a basket of bunnies. Okay, maybe he's being dramatic. But his thumb caresses you like he would a bunnies ear.

What does he say now?

"I'm here if you ever need anything" it slips outs, his finger parts your thumb to intertwine his fingers between his. The scent glands between his fingers meet yours. A passionate and forward display of affection that mingi soaks in.

Until you pull away. And the faint crack of his heart rings in the dark room.

San and yeosang share the space at the top of the tower, prideful, they watch you lean and maneuver yourself. San is doing most of the shouting.

As soon as you get close enough, yeosang is pulling you over. Praises stop just as he's about to say them. The whiff that comes with you is sweet and all-consuming. San smells it, too.

You take it with you when you run to the table. Your smile is beaming. But San and Yeosang don't smile back.

Shock hangs in the air. Yeosang and san only stare in shock when you pull out something. Rolling it over yourself.

Afterward, you run without looking back. Yeosang doesn't know exactly what to do. Neither does San.

When they meet up at the bottom of the tower, San pulls hongjoong aside whilst wooyoung pulls yeosang aside. "What happened? Where is -" He asks his best friend with worried eyes. Yeosang doesn't know whether or not to tell him.

"I.." yeosang looks anywhere else. Wooyoung doesn't wait for yeosang to answer, pulling him over to the boys who crowd San and Hongjoong.

"I don't know where she went." San throws his hand up. Hongjoong steps back with his hands on his hips. Somewhere around here they will be called back to set and you will be missing.

Wooyoung is utterly confused, "what's going on?" He asks, and everyone goes silent. He steps forward, repeating himself louder this time.

"She's an omega," San says quietly, glancing at hongjoong and then back at wooyoung. Whatever response wooyoung was expecting, it certainly wasn't that.

And now that you're all caught up. Wooyoung storms the entirety of the building searching for you. Any hint of your freshly dyed hair, scent, or perfume is another lead to getting to you. Letting an omega, one distressed and upset loose around a building where, yes good people are, but there is bad somewhere. Everywhere. And he especially told the guys about this.

"You let OUR pack member go? When she's extremely upset? Did anyone even- by herself! She's still healing and you let her go off by herself!?"

Yes, maybe he's being more mature than he's even seen. It shocks himself more than his members. And when he finally finds you, a different weight falls over his chest. Your sobs and tears are the last thing wooyoung wants to hear or see. Softly, he reaches out. You pull away, upset, you say words that have wooyoung pulling his lip between his teeth to prevent barking back anything he could say in the moment that'll hurt your feelings more. You're highly sensitive right now.

Wooyoung doesn't know if he's ever seen you cry like this before. Doesn't even remember an instance he's ever seen you so upset. The first time wooyoung saw you crying, you let a few fall, wiped them away, took a deep breath. Then you got up and continued with your day. Just a few tears compared to the river you are at the moment.

He wants to wipe them away and pull you into his chest. He can't, though. You're irratic, lost in your own head, and nothing he's currently saying will get to you.

He chances it. "Omega, please." he calls to you.

It's like a switch. You look up at him with puffy eyes. The shock on your face makes wooyoung feel terrible. It should have been something you came to tell him about. It's not something he overheard from someone else like gossip. It shouldn't have been.

As soon as the car comes to a slow stop at the apartment, you can't bring yourself to walk up the stairs or even get out.

You know, as soon as you get out and stay locked up in your room, once the guys return, someone will come to ask questions. That things will change from what you're used to. And you'll lose something valuable. It's just a sneaking suspicion. But to you, it's the ever growing truth.

"Chen? Could you please take me to the dance studio?" You ask, staring up at the building. Chen, bless his heart, takes a second to think about it. Worry creases his graying eyebrows.

The dance room is a breath of fresh air. The familiar space takes away your thoughts.

And now that you're in this familiar space, you do what you do best. You dance to distract yourself. Your phone hooks up to the speakers, blaring loudly. Music beats your eardrums, and your heart does, too when you move about freely.

Your newly dyed hair sticks to your face. Your clothes aren't very dance worthy but you've wore more uncomfortable ones on stage. Your low waisted jeans stick to your skin, along with the hoodie sweater you wore. You're sweating heavily.

You don't even have your purse to reapply your scent blockers. It doesn't matter if you did. You don't care who knows anymore. Your manager isn't here either. A giant no-no. You left filming, an even bigger no-no. And now no one knows where you are except for Chen, the ultimate no-no. You trust him not to say anything, though.

You might get removed from the group for this. You might get blacklisted. Kicked off the face of earth. And you wont know until they tell the media. You wont know until atiny find out. But what does it matter when nothing matters to you at the moment. You've never broken your contract rules. No dating? Not even when you were a trainee. Keep up with diet culture? Who needs food anyways. No partying? You got it, boss. No smoking? You don't like smoking anyway. Get used to wearing irritating makeup and the stuck-up people you deal with on a daily basis? Gladly.

Never, never allow yourself to get comfortable. The fear of never being enough will keep you on your toes, perform until you pass out, sing til your lungs hurt, and write lines until you can't feel your fingers. Work endlessly 24/7.

You fall to your knees, breathing heavily. Your head meets with the cold wood floor. You lean against it for support. Breathe. You're trying. Continously heaving for breath. You wrap your arms around yourself, your knees pull into your chest against the floor your head still is tucked on the wood.

The burden taken on every day is your own. The way you work yourself to the brink of death is your own doing. Your manager has told you this before, even in your day off. Everyone you know has said the same thing, everyone knows how hard you push.

"You've earned it," Kimmie celebrates. Handing you a cupcake. "You debuted!" She cheers, blowing on a whistle, you stare down at the pink frosting in shock. "I'm so proud of you"

Years later, are you proud of yourself, though? Years later, are you willing to let your dream die? Years later, are you willing to risk everything? To tell them how you really feel, why you are the way you are now? How you became this way?

The door to the dance practice room stutters open. The foggy glass gives away your position inside along with the bright lights. Your breathing is all caught up, but you still keep yourself as low to the floor as you can.

Don't look, pretend you're not here, please. Please.

A warm hand meets your back. You can't hear anyone over the music. It stops abruptly. The silence is suffocating, just like the jeans you're wearing. Just like the hoodie you have on. The cold of the floor caresses your sweaty forehead, that is, until someone's hand wedges between it and you.

Softly pulling your head off the floor, yeosangs lean pale arms come into view. Your face turns in his direction, a deep set pout and fear in your wide eyes. He's squatted next to you, his knees on the floor must be uncomfortable. His hand brushes the hair off your hairline back. Words are stuck in his throat.

"It's okay." he whispers just to you, sighing at the end. Your eyes fall into a squint at the floor, and your nose scruches. He takes a second, thinking over his next move. He decides to guide you into his chest. He doesn't overthink it. Maneuvering your arms to wrap around him.

Yeosangs arms wrap around you. he's comfortable and caring, his heart beats down next to your ear. He doesn't really know what to do with his hands, he's not very good with touch. But he's trying for you. He lands softly on the floor, sitting on his butt and pulling you closer into the gap between his lean legs. His hand rubs on your arm, the other hand on your hair strokes it behind your ear delicately. Lemonade tea and cocoa butter stripes the stress off your shoulders, yeosangs scent is addicting. Like a warm blanket.

"I'm sorry, I'm okay" you try to reassure. Who? You don't even know. Yeosangs head nods over your hair, he doesn't believe you thus why he keeps pushing out his scent to calm you. But he let's you say it anyways. The door opens once again, scraping against the wood sharply.

"Did you -" it's jongho, his words fall short. He turns around and walks back out the door. The distant shout in the hallway signals that this is real and jongho is calling the rest of the guys.

You don't know if you can do this.

You pull away from yeosang, taking one final deep breath. These emotions that choke you are unwelcome. You need to get your shit together. You need to act like an adult and take care of the issues you cause. Yeosang pulls his hands back and stands up from the floor.

You take a full second to follow. Just in time, the manager bursts through the door, right behind him is jongho. Jongsiks hands grip your shoulders. "You okay?" He words out, the older man concerned. You adore jongsik like a father. He's your favorite staff member.

You nod, straightening your lips into a thin line. Jongsik scans your face as if decoding your answer like it has a secret meaning. He nods after, pulling you along with him down the hallway.

Your phone is on its last life, 2%. How long were you in there for? 10 pm, the clock flickers. Finally, it shuts off. Completely gone is the comfort of your phone. You sigh. Behind you, yeosang and jongho trail back. It's silent even when you step out of the building.

The night air nips your nose when you wait for jongsik to pull around with the company car. Yeosang stands on your left, awkward, looking anywhere else but at you. Your arms subconsciously wrap around you. You're cold, but you won't admit it. You won't say you're cold, not when the tension is so thick and making you claustrophobic.

The whiff of fresh florals, mahogany, charred sandalwood- you know this smell, it's jongho. You turn to look at him on your right. He shoulders off his black jacket, sticking it out to you without another word. You don't want to take it, don't want to give him another reason to pity you in this moment. But the look in his eyes when he stares so deeply into yours says 'go ahead'. You look down as you take it, unfolding your arms and shuffling it on. It's all the smell of jongho, every last bit of him. Every hint and detail.

You subtly sniff it as you shuffle around. Leaning on the balls of your feet. Jongho doesn't have another jacket on, just a thin brown hoodie. His eyes look ahead at the empty street, and his large palm wraps around his forearm while his other arm swings loosely by his side. He looks as if he didn't just hand over his jacket to you. He looks normal in the chaos that swirls around you. His soft eyelashes flutter, his heart-shaped lips part.

He's so boyfriend coded, you think. The thought makes you turn away. Where did that come from?

No one takes the front seat, you wonder why, when you first got in the car you sat in the middle, you're so used to sitting in the middle so the guys have room to move around, squishing them together seems cruel. You don't even think about scooting over. Yeosang takes your left whilst jongho takes your right. It doesn't even bother you when you when the potholes make you bump into yeosang. Or even when jonghos big shoulders lean into your spot.

All of that lingers under the anxiety pouring out of your pores. You're mentally sweating profusely. What the hell are you going to say? How are you gonna explain you went into heat? It is so embarrassing explaining to the eight guys you love (more than friends, you've always known) that you were locked up in a room having to do the do with yourself for a week. Perhaps you should have your priorities straight instead of wondering about that.

Your face feels like it's heating up from the embarrassment you're gonna feel.

The apartment is a little less cold than the hallway. The door shuts behind yeosang. Signaling to everyone else you've just gotten back. Jongho types away on his phone, no doubt texting someone. He heads straight to where the kitchen is. Your eyes don't follow. Instead, you take off his jacket and hang it up in the closet. Yeosangs hand brushes yours when he does the same from next to you. You don't stop to stare, and neither does he.

The living room is normally spacious, but you feel claustrophobic in the setting you've comfortably gotten used to. You take your seat on the couch, and your head falls into your hands. Your palms rub at your eyes, pushing away the sleep clawing to consume you in its grip.

The night light of the city cascades against the dark apartment. You watch your vision blur the shapes together that dance on the wall across you. Your shadow smack dab in the middle, hunched over to hide into yourself. Yeosang moves about in the darkness, walking towards the kitchen himself. Just out of your view, you hear the chit-chat of the guys. They must all be in the kitchen trying to learn how to start a conversation with you.

You take the lead, pushing yourself to stand up. You take one deep sigh. And walk toward the kitchen yourself. The chitchat dies as you come into view, you learn against the entry, your hip meeting the cold countertop. The majority of the guys are still dressed. They must all have been out looking for you. Your head falls down, shamefully.

"Three weeks." You start, voice small. You clear your throat, shaking your head towards the floor. "I've been like this - an omega for three weeks" Your arms cross over your chest. The silence eats away at you.

"I-" "Why didn't you tell us?" Mingi says, hongjoong stares daggers at his face. Possibly hoping to quiet him. "I. I didn't.." You're tired of lying. You swipe your finger under your eye. "I was told not too," you speak clearer, looking up. All eyes are on you.

"They told me not to tell you guys. They said they were gonna sit us all down and explain it. Keep it under control until they have a statement to the press for my absence and my new sex.." You get more silent as you continue. Confidence deteriorating. "I didn't want to lie, but I.." You stop there, sighing heavily.

"How?" Hongjoong asks, eyes glance to him but the majority of them stay on you. You know exactly what he's asking. "I don't know, really. it started just a couple days before practice, I wasn't feeling well. Seonghwa, yeosang. You two noticed my scent was off and I still didn't think about it until I collapsed." You kick your foot, looking towards the two members you mentioned.

Seonghwa and yeosang look like sirens of the night. Their eyes peirce you. "I still don't know the exact cause of the change. The doctors said a few different things. I won't know 'til I get a call." You honestly say. The silence lingers in the air again.

"When is your-" a hand slaps over mingis mouth, it's jonghos, he holds mingis head to prevent him from moving out of his grasp, mingi struggles. It's funny, yet you dont laugh, only smile the tiniest bit. "When is your heat?" Wooyoung finishes for him, all eyes on him now. Well, more like all shock directed at him now. Mingi stops struggling, both he and jongho stare at wooyoung like he grew a second head.

"Less than two weeks" you bite your cheek, facing the bold question head on. "Actually, i had my first one while i was gone." your head falls back towards the floor. The wood planks are so very interesting. Wow. "I've been taking heat suppressants to bide the pain.. but I don't know. I won't know until I get there."

Silence again.

Seonghwa coughs, turning around. He breaks the silence as he moves bags on the counter. "Most of us had dinner but I saved some food for you" he hands you the solid plate, like its a code word. Each of the guys go to do something else, moving around and doing their own things. Plastic wrap covers the plate, you stare down at it in your hands.

The change of the conversation makes you trip on your thoughts. "You're not mad?" You blurt out, looking up at seonghwa who goes to pass you. He stops, surprised, he turns. "Mad?.." he mumbles, looking away as he thinks. "I'm not mad, why would I be?" He mumbles, eyebrows pulled taunt over his smooth forehead.

You blink back, once, then twice.

Seonghwa bites his plump bottom lip, looking to the living room where hongjoong is sitting with his laptop in his lap. They pass glances to each other. A plan under wraps that no one else knows about except for them. He turns back to you, sucking in a breath. Your eyes hold the universe, sparkling when you look up at him. He catches his hand before it reaches out. Scratching the back of his neck. "They're not mad either." He whispers down to you.

Mere centimeters away, the pure smell of you has seonghwa wrapped. If anyone is mad, he's certainly covering for them just because he doesn't want your pretty eyes to shed any tears. "You promise?" It's completely quiet. Seonghwa looks down at your lips pouting out gently.

"I promise." He glances between your eyes and lips. His hand scraps up against the doorway, leaning into it.

The tension is noticeable between the two of you, hanging high in the air. Your eyes never move, neither does seonghwa. In this moment he has you locked in his siren like stare. In the same instance your big worried eyes hold seonghwa hostage. Neither wants to break apart.

"Have you thought about.. who you have to call when your heat hits?" Seonghwa pulls his pliable lip between his teeth again, trying to drag an answer he didn't know he wanted.

Your lips part, your tongue pokes out to wet them. A shining sheen seonghwa wants to drown himself in. "No... I was just gonna endure.." You whisper, cheeks feeling hot. Seonghwa, scans your eyes. "You did it on your own?" He whispers back heavily, his mouth falls open only the tiniest bit.

"Mhm" you nod. He sucks in a breath, images flash through his mind. "Poor 'mega" he sighs just under his breath, his free hand reaching up to rub his thumb just under your lip, he holds your chin "you didn't have your pack to help you, yeah?" He glances down at your lips. It takes all restraint in seonghwa to not turn down and capture you in the passion he's feeling. Your thighs shifting is what catches his eye.

Your sweet smell is stronger in his proximity. Seonghwa wants to drink it in. He has to keep composure. He reminds himself.

He turns away quickly, leaving you in the kitchen. Plate still in hand. You let out the breath you had been holding, holding the plate tightly.

What was that?

Less than two weeks. Less than two weeks you have a decision to make. Whether or not they'll take up your offer, you don't know. But seonghwas display of affection yesterday captured you in the tide of troublesome emotions.

The sun beams through your window, shedding your dark room with lights. The breeze pushes open your curtains. They swirl in the brisk morning air.

You hold the paper in your hands. The mail you hold is very important, very, very important. You have to fill in the blanks and can't change it until your heat after this upcoming one.

The line that stunts you, is your emergency heat contact. The people or person that you should immediately be directed to, to situate you and take care of you when you won't be able to.

The line is blank, it can be left that way.. but you have many names in mind to fill it. You just hope they'll want to be on it.

Why did I write him like that omg(i know exactly why). Thank you for the continuous support, mwuah.

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