#And how having your memory and life taken from you and replaced by the teachings of a false god that you later have to learn lied to you

[tropes-and-tales]

The Softest in the World

Day 15:  Fingering (Dave York x F!Reader)

(For the 2023 Kinktober event found here! Is it April? Yes. Am I that far behind in posting that it's April and I'm still working through Kinktober requests? Also yes.) 

CW:  Smut (Fingering; talk of masturbation; oblique talk of vague future sex acts); 18+ only.

Word Count:  4102

AN:  This is a sequel to this, and it was requested for Kinktober by an anon!

AN2: Never edited, never beta'ed. I live and die by my slopping typing.

The first Christmas without Carol goes far better for Dave than he ever thought it would.  Of course he misses his wife, nearly a year out from her sudden death.  Molly and Alice miss their mother too.  But the immediate grief—that sharp, cutting pain that left them breathless and stunned—has faded into a more mellow sorrow.  Ever-present, but it doesn’t take Dave out at the knees anymore.

He knows he owes much of his family’s collective healing to you, the nanny he hired months after Carol died.  You’re the one who stepped in and took charge of their lives.  You never tried to replace Carol, but you’ve managed their day-to-day moments and their larger healing.

This first Christmas was your idea too.  A month in Vermont, away from the family home where memories may have been too thick and pressing to allow for any joy.  It had proved out to be a great idea too:  long days sledding and snow-shoeing and building snow forts leave the girls exhausted by evening, too tired to ruminate about their missing mother.

And it allows Dave more time with you.

Usually you only live at the York home when he’s traveling.  You handle their lives at home—drive the girls to and from school, to and from activities.  You handle the maid who comes in twice a week to clean.  You keep the refrigerator full, get the girls bathed and put to bed with a story and a hug each night.  But Dave is never there to see it—when he returns home from his work trips, you leave for your own apartment.

This month in Vermont?  You sleep in the room just down the hallway from him.  You share a bathroom with him, leave behind the scent of your shampoo and soap after you shower.  He hears you each night when you, like clockwork, pad out into the kitchen for a glass of water that you gulp down until you’re breathless.

More than all of that, he has front row seats to how you care for his girls.  You’re tough but fair.  You cut them plenty of slack, grieving as they are, but you don’t allow them to run roughshod over you.  You play with them, you teach them, and you genuinely seem to love them…and they genuinely love you as well.

Him, though?  Dave can’t seem to get a bead on you when it comes to him.  Your ease with the girls disappears the moment the two of you are alone.  You can’t always meet his eye line.  You flinch away from him if he brushes against you.  Sometimes he wonders if you can sense his former double life—if you have some preternatural prey response to being so close to a predator.  But more than once, he’s caught you watching him on the sly.  He’s noticed your heavy-lidded eyes, the way you pull your lower lip between your teeth.

When he cornered you in the hallway a few days earlier, he definitely noticed how your breathing quickened.

Maybe you can sense his killer nature, but Dave would also guess that you are attracted to him.  And knowing what he does of your character, you probably feel conflicted about that.  Guilty.  Maybe even a cliché, the nanny falling for the widowed father of her charges.

If Dave has taken one lesson from Carol’s death, though, it’s this:  life is short, and life can end in a blink.  Why not live while you can?

-----

The day before Christmas is spent in a nearby town.  You plan it, of course, and you layer in fun stuff with all the errands you have to run and make it a family affair.  You take the girls ice skating at a nearby pond.  Dave stands along the rink’s edge and watches you take lazy circles on the ice, Molly’s and Alice’s mittened hands firmly in yours until they get comfortable on their own.  Then you skate over to him, and the two of you watch in silence.

Then there’s hot chocolate at a nearby café, last minute presents for the stockings, and the grocery store.  You return to the cabin laden with bags, and the evening flies by.  You and the girls make flat breads for dinner, and afterwards, you put on a Christmas movie while the girls put the finishing touches on the tree Dave bought earlier in the month.

Dave helps the girls with their evening baths.  He gets them tucked into bed, reads them a story.  He presses a kiss to each of their foreheads, and they are out like a light before he’s even quietly clicking their bedroom door shut behind him.

As he’s been tending to his daughters, you’ve tidied up in the kitchen and living room, and now you’re pulling the wrapped gifts from their hiding spot in the hallway closet to arrange them under the tree.

At the sound of his footfall, you glance up and offer him a smile.

“They out already?” you ask.

Dave chuckles.  “Before I even left the room.”

You smile, brush the back of your hand across your forehead, miming hard work.  “It’s exhausting work, trying to exhaust them.”

“And you manage to do it every time.”  He joins you near the tree, kneels down beside you.

“Sometimes I make them run laps at home,” you reply with a laugh, and maybe you don’t notice your casual use of the word home, but Dave notices.

Dave notices everything.

He noticed, for example, how you stood by him at the skating rink, perfect posture and a tension radiating off of you when Dave moved close enough for his coat to brush against yours.  He noticed the way you ducked your head at the café, how you pretended not to hear the women who sat nearby and remarked on the lovely little family that you, Dave, and the girls made.

He notices now how you lean away from him just a fraction, how you start when his fingers touch yours each time he hands you a wrapped gift to place.  He notices that you won’t look at him, that you keep your gaze carefully fixed on the presents or the tree.  He crowds you closer, plays dumb about it, and he notices when the pink tip of your tongue darts out and licks a wet line along your lower lip. 

Part of Dave—the dark part of him, the predator in him—wants to grip your face between his hand and force you to look at him.  He wants to hold your gaze until it’s too much for you; he wants to stare at you until you squirm and beg him to let you go.  And then he wants to not let you go, your begging futile—he wants to hold you tighter and lean in and draw his own tongue along that bitable lower lip of yours.

He keeps that part of him at bay.  He knows he has to go slow.  Slow movements.  You freeze around him, but if he comes on too strong or too fast, you’ll bolt.  He needs to quiet that prey instinct, make you feel safe.  Alleviate your guilt, if you have any, at being attracted to a widower.

So Dave decides to seduce you instead. 

When you reach for the next gift, he instead grasps your wrist lightly.  He can feel your pulse against his grip, and he hears the breath you draw in.  He holds you like that until you have the courage to look at him, and he smiles at you to put you at ease.

“I’ll finish up,” he tells you, his voice low.  “Why don’t you go get a bottle of wine and some glasses?  We can have a drink on the couch.”

You hesitate…then nod.  It shouldn’t be a turn-on, but Dave loves the hesitancy, then the obedient way you stand up and do exactly as he says.  It’s not hard for him to imagine other things he could order you to do, the same uncertainty before you obey him.

-----

The wine is Moscato-adjacent.  It’s one of those local vintages made with fruits other than grapes, and far too sweet for Dave’s taste, but you had picked it out at the grocery store, so he sips it carefully and hides his winces when the cloying sweetness burns against the back of his throat.

You?  You nearly gulp it down, and he realizes how nervous you are to be here:  alone on a couch beside him, the room dark except for the lit-up Christmas tree and the crackling fire in the fireplace.  It’s romantic, but you’re his employee, and he swears he can feel you flailing out of your depths to find yourself in this moment.

“Easy,” he says.  He stills your hand when you reach for the bottle.  You’ve bolted down the first glass so fast, and Dave doesn’t want you drunk.  He doesn’t even want you tipsy.  He wants just the barest bit of your nerves soothed, but he wants you fully in control of yourself. 

He wants you to be completely, stone sober when you beg him.

“Slow down,” he continues.  “You don’t want to overdo it.”

You laugh, a nervous giggle that spills out of your mouth, and you start to say, “I just…” but you trail off, don’t finish the sentence. 

What were you going to say, Dave wonders?

I just am nervous.

I just think this is too much.

I just think it’s wrong.  It’s too soon.  It’s too complicated.  It’s too unseemly.  What will people think, if anyone ever finds out?

“It’s okay.”  He says it soothingly.  He eases your empty glass out of your other hand, and he sets it down along with his own mostly-full glass, but he does it with one hand—his other, he keeps wrapped around your wrist, unwilling to break his hold on you.

“Mr. York…”  You start, and he hears the nerves in your voice.  He hears the wobble in your words, the faint tremor, but he also swears he can hear desire too—a huskiness to your voice, the slightest rough edge.  And you squirm in your seat, just a bit, but you don’t try to pull away from him.

“Mister York?  Since when did I become Mister?”  It shouldn’t be so hot, you calling him that, formal with the tremble in your words, but then you breathe out his first name—Dave—and you draw it out, and that’s even hotter.

His hand on your wrist, he pulls you to him, tugs your upper body towards him, and you let him.  You go willingly, but your eyes widen.  In shock?  Fear?  Lust?

“Tell me you want this,” he murmurs, his face inches from yours.  “If you don’t, say so now, and we’ll forget it ever happened.”

The tip of your tongue darts out, licks nervously against your lower lip.  “It’s just…”  You take a breath, try again.  “It’s just complicated.”

“That’s not a yes or a no, baby.”

You huff and offer him a tremulous smile at his use of a nickname, so he adds, “it’s a simple question.”

You hesitate, and Dave wonders if you’re really conflicted about it.  If you’re weighing how your life will change depending on how you answer…

…or if you just don’t want to seem eager, because you nod, then whisper “yes, I do want this,” and when he bridges the remaining distance between you, you’re right there, ready and eager to slot your mouth over his, to part your lips to his searching tongue, to cup his stubbled face with your free hand.

-----

Other men might take you then and there.  They might claim you right on the couch, in front of a dying fire and a Christmas tree sparkling with lights.  They might rush it, make it some sweaty, sad fumble, then parting to each slink to separate bedrooms.

Dave York has always enjoyed the long game.  If he were a game hunter, he would enjoy it better to sit in a tree stand for hours before dawn.  He would relish the cool planning, the stalking, the calculating and recalibrating as needed.

Dave York doesn’t fuck you just yet.  He wants to give you a taste, just a morsel, because he wants you slavering for it.  He wants you looking at him with those wide eyes, that lower lip caught between your teeth, as you beg him for more.

So this night, he only pushes you gently back against the couch as he kisses you.  He lowers himself onto you—lets you feel the weight and heft of his body against yours, lets you feel how he can press you into the couch with his weight.  He lets you feel the length of his growing erection where it presses against your hip, and each little whimper makes him harder.

He kisses you deeply—tastes the glass of Moscato you gulped down, tastes the sweetness of you beyond the tart, sweet wine.  He slides his tongue against yours, licks the inside of your mouth, and he smiles inwardly when you shyly try to do the same.  You are mostly led by him but there’s little movements—your tongue pressing back against his, say, or the upward press of your hips as you search for friction—where you try to lead too.

He braces himself with one hand, which allows the other to roam free.  He cups your flushed face, feels the heat of your blushing.  He draws his hand down, traces a path down your neck, circles his palm there, feels how much he can fit in the span of one palm.  Not because he likes choking—he’s never been into breathplay or anything so risky, but he does like the tame feel of his hand partially around your neck with the feel of your pulse and the ragged breaths you pull in.

Then lower.  He grasps the softness of your breast, and even through the sweater and bra, he can feel your pebbled nipple.  He brushes the pad of his thumb over it, back and forth, and it makes your hips lift up again…and then you groan when you find nothing to meet you, no friction and no touch.

“Be patient,” he whispers in your ear.  He nips at your lobe, darts his tongue against the whorl of your ear, and you whimper at the sensation of his hot breath fanning over you.

He moves his free hand lower still.  He finds the hem of your sweater, snakes his hand under it.  Then he finds the waistband of your leggings.  He sends up a silent prayer that he gets to live in a time and place where leggings are a thing—no tricky buttons or zippers, just an elastic waistband so easy to slip his hand under, and he cups your mound through the soft cotton of your panties.  Dave chuckles near your ear, then lifts his head to look at you because you’re already wet there, the damp cotton cleaving to you as he skates his fingers over you.

“Bad girl,” he whispers.  “Getting wet for your boss.”

He’s watching you as he says it, and he sees the flash of hurt that crosses your face before your pupils get wider and your lips part, as you breathe out a heavy breath.  You’re such a good girl; Dave obviously vetted you before ever letting you into his girls’ lives.  Straight A student, honors, full ride in college.  Not even a speeding ticket in your history.  He bets you’ve never been called bad, never been a bad girl, and it seems to hurt you for a beat before you embrace this tamest step outside of your erotic comfort zone.

Dave has so many more steps he wants to lead you on.  He wants to take your hand in his and lead you into darker, deeper waters.  He imagines spanking you, binding you, blindfolding you.  He imagines twisting your innate desire to please into something sensual; he imagines training you to greet him on your knees.  He imagines rewarding you, calling you a good girl instead, fucking you senseless until you are left overstimulated and weeping, ruined for any other cock but his.

“Is this just from right now?” he continues, and he strokes you through your soaked panties, feels how they are molded to your folds and cleft.  “Or have you been thinking about this?”

“I don’t—”

“Tell me.”  He pinches you lightly—not enough to hurt, but the sensation pulls a gasp from you, and your hand flies up to grasp his bicep where his bracing arm is near your head.  “Tell me why you’re so wet.”

“I’ve been thinking about this.”  It comes out a whisper, barely audible.  Tinged in shame, and that’s the first thing Dave will burn out of you.  Guilt.  Shame.  He’ll break you down and tear those useless emotions out of you.

“When?”  Another light pinch, another gasp.  Your hand grips his arm harder, and Dave will see dusty little bruises there in the morning.

“Since….ah, since a while.”  Another pinch, and you add, “over the summer.”

The summer.  When Dave was around more due to his busy period at word dying off.  When Dave ran each morning and returned home to find you cleaning up the breakfast mess, when he shed his sweaty shirt and walked through the house on his way to shower.  When he pretended not to notice the way your eyes followed him each step, and when he pretended like he needed a glass of cold water, shirtless, that he drank down in your eye line.

Bad girl indeed.

“You touch yourself to the thought of me?”  Here he moves his hand, shifts it to slip under the lacy band of your panties, and he’s delighted to feel a strip of damp curls there, happy that you haven’t shaved or waxed yourself bare.  He drags his fingers through them, then finds your clit, slick and swollen, and he touches you lightly there.  Strums you with his thumb and chuckles at the keening whine that tears out of your throat.

“Answer me.  You touch yourself, thinking about me?”

“….yes.”

“Like this?”

“S-sometimes.”

“Not every time?”

You fix him with a pleading look, but you’re barely able to hold his gaze for long.  When he brushes his lips over your cheekbone, he can feel how hot your face is.  This is a challenge to you, possibly humiliating, but also arousing because you continue to lift your hips, chasing the touch you’re desperate for.  Such a soft little thing, the softest in the world, and yet you’ve been touching yourself to the thought of him.

Dave stills his hand, and he chuckles again at the groan of disappointment you make.  “Tell me or I stop.”

You swallow, nod.  “Sometimes I…I have a vi…a vibrator.”

He can imagine it; a sad little tucked-away piece of silicone or plastic.  You probably pull it out in the darkness of your room, ashamed at pleasuring yourself.  You probably bury it under your socks and blush when your hand brushes against it when you’re putting laundry away.

He hums, considers the mental image that rises to his mind.  Your legs spread under the covers, running the toy over your clit, maybe pushing it inside you.  Imagining it was him instead.

Not that different from the times he’s gripped his own cock, stroked himself in the shower or in his room and pretended it was you instead of his hand.

Dave could demand to know your fantasies.  He could make you tell him what scenarios you’ve used to get off to him.  Him bending you over the kitchen counter?  Him fucking you in the shower?  Him sneaking into your bedroom at night, sliding under the covers and slipping his already-hard cock into your tight little pussy?  He could make you blush harder and demand to know these things, but he wants to take this slow, so he kisses you instead, murmurs his thanks, calls you a good girl for answering his questions, and when your face lights up at the praise, Dave pushes one thick finger into you and draws the sweetest, throatiest groan from you.

Other men might take you then and there, but Dave only finger-fucks you.  He goes so slow, eases it out, pushes it back in so you feel every goddamned bit of him entering you.  He keeps his thumb firm on your clit, and just the pressure makes you whimper each time he presses a little harder.

He adds a second finger and feels the delicious stretch as your pussy cedes to him.  You’re unbelievably warm, slick, and your pussy twitches and pulses around him each time he breeches the confines of your body.  It’s tight, but you’re nervous, and each bit of praise—good girl, such a good fucking girl for me, just relax and let me make you feel good, baby—makes you unclench a bit more.  You relax, and you find the rhythm that he fingers you, and you lift your hips to meet his fingers.

When he adds a third finger, you hiss at the thickness of it, the tight fit.  He stills, watches your face for any pain, and when he doesn’t see any, he continues.

Three fingers is a good start to preparing you for his cock, he thinks.  He imagines the feel of pushing into you, mounting you, and he imagines your fingers digging into his shoulders as he bottoms out in you.

In due time.  Now he fingers you, he scissors his fingers inside you and feels the answering throb in his erection each time you whine or whimper or groan, the sweetest symphony of sounds he’s able to pull from you.  When he starts circling your clit with his thumb, when he crooks his fingers inside you, pressing gently until he finds the spot that makes you gasp out his name, but you call him Mister York again, and it unlocks something inside him, the power you’re letting him have over you.  He dips his head and sinks his teeth into the side of your neck, right at the pulse point, and you gasp again.  Your other hand flies up and cradles the back of his head, and you twist your fingers through his hair, but you don’t pull him away—you hold him there, and he licks against the dimpled marks he’s left in your skin, he breathes against the wet line on your neck, and he’ll see a lurid bruise there in the morning too that will make him instantly hard.

“You’re going to come for me,” he growls against your neck.  “You’re going to be a good girl and come when I tell you.”

And his mind boggles at the possibilities with you because you do exactly as he says.  You nod at his order, and you press your hips in time to his searching fingers, and he feels when your orgasm approaches because you lose much of your embarrassment.  You swear in a hoarse whisper against his head—oh fuck, D-Dave, fuck fuck fuck, I’m close, I’m gonna, oh, don’t stop—and you spread your legs wider to make room for his hand, and the lurid sound of his hand working against your wetness doesn’t seem to even register to you.  The entire living room smells like sex and you don’t care, and when you gasp and buck your hips up into his hand, he feels your orgasm break around you:  the pulse of your cunt gripping his fingers, the hot slick of cum that coats his hand, the way your body shakes under his.

He fingers you through it.  He draws out your pleasure until you shove at him lightly, tell him it’s too much, and he stops.  He feels the tension of your orgasm—the arching body, the trembling—leave you, and you lay underneath him, sated and heavy with your release.

Dave draws his hand out from under your clothing, and he straightens the hem of your sweater where it rode up a bit.  Then he fixes you with an unblinking stare and lifts his hand to his mouth, and he smiles at your shocked expression as he licks his fingers clean.  Then, with the taste of you on his lips, he lowers his head and kisses you again—deep and slow, so you can taste yourself too.

“Good girl,” he tells you when he breaks the kiss.  “You’re going to be such a good girl for me.”

#dave york #dave york imagine #dave york x reader #dave york x you #kinktober 2023 #tropes and tales #the equalizer 2

[field-s-of-flowers]

Hey. Hey what if one of the OG lyctors was Jewish pre-resurrection. Wouldn’t that be so fucked up

#soph’s posts #The locked tomb #Or another religion besides Christianity. It’d be similarly fucked up #But I know the most about Judaism so that’s what I put in the post #Anyway. I was just thinking about how much M-’s atheism probably meant to her identity #And how John didn’t even think about how she’d feel about being semi-coerced into worshipping a seemingly omnipotent being #Not to mention founding a whole ass planetary society on the worship of that same omnipotent being #And then I started thinking about how important family and memory and rational thought are to Jewish tradition #And how having your memory and life taken from you and replaced by the teachings of a false god that you later have to learn lied to you #Is kind of one of the worst things you could do to a Jew imo #And THEN I started thinking about how the surname Shodash probably comes from Hebrew (sheish means six) #So yeah. My thoughts

[itstheendofthegoddamnworld]

Kissed by Moonlight (Alucard x Witch! Reader) 2

A/N: Thank you for your patience! I've been very busy with Monstober and have taken time to focus more on this story. Hope you enjoy it!

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Chapter 2

In your dreams, you’re whole again, and the happiest you’ve ever been.

You jolt in a familiar bed, one cold and worn from the years melting away: a bed too small. Yet, it’s not the bed you had when you were under Bogdan’s roof, and it brought forth fond memories.

Your mother was situated by her workbench, humming a soft tune you remembered from your childhood. Standing behind her, you could only watch, observing how she had not aged since that day, and she looked as you remembered.

“You are very hard to communicate with, sweet girl,” your mother spoke, her dark dress swayed in the deadness of the air, keeping her back to you. “Your mind has been elsewhere.”

“I don’t understand how I’m speaking to you,” you wavered, holding a hand hesitantly but pulling away, afraid of touching her again, “you are not here anymore, mama.”

“I and my sisters are in the ancestral plane, my girl,” she continued. “I have always been with you, in mind and spirit.”

You could only choke on a laugh, bitterly replying, tears threatening to spill. “Then I must have failed myself for losing all my powers. I’m not the prophecy you spoke of.”

Your mother turned so you could see her face finally, and a veil covered her face, darkness shrouding her appearance. Despite not being able to see her face, you knew she was smiling.

“Why do you think that?”

 “I cannot do anything,” you held your hands out in front of you, trying to concentrate on anything, flames or cold to reach your fingertips, yet nothing came, “I am hopeless.”

“You are speaking to me through a veil of limbo, are you not?” She questioned and there was sadness in her tone, as if you had disappointed her.

It made you question her words, thoughtfully reflecting on them. “You did not teach me about astral projection—or how to reach the veil of the ancestral plane. I… did not know it existed.”

“It belongs to us,” she sang sweetly, “it has always belonged to us, my Y/N.” She reached towards you and placed a hand on your shoulders, her grasp as cold as death.

“There is one thing that has always made me proud of you, what has made the sisters believe in you,” she spoke, and you felt the chill spread like wildfire through your chest. “You were everything they needed in a witch.”

-

The comfort of dreams and darkness spat you out until you felt exhausted, shuddering back life into you.

Your mind felt as if it was in the middle of a fog, slowly clearing up as your heavy eyes opened and shut with the contrasting brightness. The burning sensation seemed to dwindle from your chest, and you were replaced with the cold that came harshly.

You shivered, groggily taking in the sight of flames that brightened the already dark room. You seemed to be in a reception or lounge, the Corinthia you were laid on was a deep crimson colour, and gold leaf trim took part most of its decoration.

“I see you’re awake.” The same voice cut through the sharpness of the air, startling you to stare at the entrance. Oh, right, your saviour—if you could call him that. You could still remember the blade, as cold as ice, pressed against your neck before you passed out, and you were suddenly very aware that you were alone with this stranger; a stranger with a habit of murder.

“Where am I?” You groaned, clutching your head as you found beside you a glass of water already by the table, gingerly picking it up and debating whether to drink from it. If he wanted you dead, he would’ve killed you by now, and the liquid was already being chugged, cooling and crisp down your throat.

“I’m surprised you didn’t even think twice before you stepped a foot inside these halls,” the dulcet voice sounded both bored and irritated by your mere presence. His silhouette moved like a black cat, sticking closely to the doorway. You heard his voice closer to you this time. “I can’t tell if you’re brave or a fool for coming here.”

It dawned on you finally and slowly that you were still inside Dracula’s castle—that the Vampire king himself owned it. It brought a shudder down your spine, but the curiosity in wanting to know why he was there.

“You don’t seem afraid to be here.” You questioned vigilantly.

“No, I would be if this had not been my home.” The figure finally emerged from the shadows, and you almost squinted at his appearance. The first thing you noticed was his wavy long pale blond hair, reaching past his waist, skin pale as moonglow. It was his eyes that were the most beautiful and eerie: golden as honey or the same colour of leaves that fell in the autumntime.

There was something unnatural about him: not exactly human that you could place, a sombreness that hung over him. You did not know what he had seen in his lifetime, but you could see it in his eyes.   

The handsome stranger was dressed in black leather trousers and boots, a simple shirt that showed some of his chest, and a long drawn scar was visible, grotesquely large and haunting.

It was only when you saw what was floating beside him, a long, thin sword, glinting brightly with silver and ornate beauty as it stood vigilantly by his side.

He seemed to notice quickly your eyes darting between him and the weapon beside him. “Will you put that thing away?”

He did not answer you but the sword pulled back from him to stand by the door as he inched closer towards you, watching you with suspicion. “Who are you?”

The stark contrast of his words was not as soft as they had been before, and with the sword standing in the background, you chose to answer him honestly rather than risk being another body staked outside. “My name is Y/N. I come from a village not far from here—”

“You do not speak the truth.” He snarls, and something glints as he opens his mouth wide enough, but is gone within seconds. The blond’s nose scrunches in almost disgust as if the most revolting stench fell over him “It reeks of sorcery,” there’s something feral in his demeanour and the way the sword flickers to move closer to his side, “witch.”

“Yes, I am a witch,” you reply honestly, eyes darting between the sword and him again, your life dangling on the edge. “Please, I don’t have anywhere else to go—I wouldn’t be here for long if you—”

“I do not have anything for you. Leave at once.” He interrupted tersely, circling you, posture tense as if he was either ready to lunge at you or flee. “I do not welcome strangers.”

No, if the bodies were not a warning already. You gulped. “I have no choice but to leave there. I had to for—” Your words stilled on your tongue, nervously tracing your fingers along your wrist in feeble comfort. “I cannot go back there. They… I fled for my life.”

The blond man doesn’t speak for a moment, instead, he watches in hawkish contemplation, studying you, examining if you are telling the truth. It felt as if you could be set on fire by his gaze alone, and finally, he looked away, eyes taking to the hearth.

“Very well,” he says after some time, “you have one month to stay here. One month, and then you can find your way somewhere new.”

Your heart leapt from your chest, ready to almost jump into his arms with gratitude. You watch as he turns, before saying over his shoulder. “There is a bathroom on the second floor, the last room to the left. You stink.”

There is no time to speak your thanks to him, as he’s gone in a hurry, away from the room you occupy. You don’t go looking for him, following up the winding hallways as you follow his instructions, finding the room after looking for some time.

The bathroom is as splendid as the rest of Dracula’s castle: all marble and gleaming white stones and a bath! You take your time to make sure you’re alone, before finding the way to get water through. It’s utterly incredible to witness true science, how hot water comes through without ever needing to gather it from a source. You laugh to yourself, believing how undeniably insane you look in front of his man, and how you too, would be wary of your presence.

It was obvious by your state when you looked in the mirror: your hair was tangled and difficult to even run your fingers through, with the odd chicken feather poking out. Your skin was riddled in mud and bruises covered your thighs and arms. Your cheek is still sore from when Bogdan smacked you, though it is not as red when you see splatters of red across your clothing.

My God, I look mad. You pluck the feathers as you try detangling your hair with your fingers, before stripping off your clothes as the water grows to a level that is good enough for you to get in. The water almost stings from how hot it is, your skin grows pinkish from the heat as you sigh in relief, submerging your body as the water grows clear to a greyish-brown hue.

Grimacing, you occupy yourself with the shelf of many bottles by your side, picking out shampoos and conditioners as you begin the long process of washing your hair. Your curls hid many secrets, as well as the knots that take forever to untangle until they’re smooth and soft to the touch. You dip your head to lean the suds, scrubbing your entire body with the bar of soap until it's red raw.

Not wishing to get out, the water grows cooler, and you grab a towel for your body and head, wrapping your hair up securely as you gather your dirty clothes. You debate on putting them back on or awkwardly trying to find the man of the castle, opening the door to feel something wedged in front.

You inspect the neatly folded clothes, a dress as seaweed green and looking a decade or two out of fashion, a clean chemise and stockings. You dress quickly in the bathroom, finding the kirtle fits you nicely, and you can feel that the material is good quality – as if it’s not been worn before.

Questions dance in your mind – why does he have dresses? Did they belong to a previous wife?

You kept them to the back of your mind as you let your hair air dry, keeping everything as neat as possible as you wandered back to where you could hope of finding the oddly handsome man.

You checked rooms on the second and ground floor: to no avail, was he around, until you found the kitchen on the ground floor, empty, except for the beautiful smells that wafted through the room. You didn’t realise how hungry you had been, not when the food smelt as amazing as it looked.

“You found the kitchen fine then.” A voice interrupted you.

You turned to find the culprit, the blond man was carrying a basket of apples, passing you as he placed them in the middle of the table. The apples were so large they didn’t look real!

He noticed you staring, looking at you for a moment up and down. “The dress you found I see?”

“Yes,” you gathered the material, feeling its softness, “it is very beautiful. Was it your wife’s?”

You see it for yourself, his pale cheeks erupt into a brightness you’ve never seen before, and he averts his gaze from you. “No, the dress is actually my mother’s.”

“Oh.” You say, awkwardness filling the room as he continues sorting out a meal. “Is fish okay for you?” He asks to break the ice.

You nod, watching as he preps two plates, filled with vegetables you’ve never seen before, as bright as anything that could be harvested. The two of you gather your plates as you go to sit at the table, and you fill your stomach with food before it reaches your eyes. The food is rich in flavour and you almost cry from having something so filling in your life.

Neither of you speak as you eat, and though you wish to keep asking him questions, he is quick to speak. “My name is Alucard.”

You choke almost on your fish, staring wide-eyed at him. “Like The Alucard? The one who defeated Dracula?”

“I do rather not like being used that title, but yes, I defeated Vlad Dracula… my father.”

It suddenly dawns on you: his pale skin and unnatural eye colour, how he moves on a whim and as fast as the wind. There was an ethereal beauty to him that you could not place at first, and you were now certain you weren’t losing your mind when you thought you saw fangs in his mouth.

“Oh.” That is all you can say, and Alucard is quick to scrunch his eyebrows at you incredulously, with a look that reads ‘Oh? Is that all you can say?’

“I’m sorry for your loss.” You finally manage to say, and you think you’ve said the wrong thing, but the look that flashes across Alucard’s face is one that you think he’s not felt before.

“No one has ever said that to me, that they were sorry,” his words are soft, tired from a life of grief. You can understand him, yet you wish for him to warm up to you. You notice his sword is still in the room, floating in the corner like a sleeping soldier, idly waiting for orders to strike. “It feels quite relieving.” It takes you a moment to realise that he’s trying to joke from the solemness of his tone.

The tension is still there, and quickly you notice that his softness is replaced by the cold exterior once again, as he stands from his spot, cleaning the dishes. “If you’re to be staying here as a temporary guest, you should find the bedroom on the first floor to the right is free to use.”

Watching him pass from the room and disappear is enough to make your heart sink, from the loneliness of the castle, and from the pain of having to share it with a living,  broken ghost.

#castlevania alucard x reader #alucard #alucard castlevania #castlevania fanfic #adrian tepes #adrian tepes x reader #castlevania netflix #witch!reader #half black! reader #reader is a witch #mixed race reader #alternate universe #itstheendofthegoddamnworld writes #castlevania #part 2

[winchesterandpie]

Versions of You

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x wife!reader

Word Count: 2133

Warnings: sooo self indulgent, soft Bradley, some reminiscing of Carole and Goose, brief mention of periods, brief implication of sex, but nothing explicit

A/N: Y'all, I have had this idea floating in my head since I first started writing for Bradley Bradshaw. I've tried writing it, went through several iterations of a beginning and it just wasn't right and my skill wasn't up to it. Over the past week, though, I finally think I got the feeling right. I think this may be some of my best writing, so I really hope you all enjoy!

Before he met you, Bradley thought he knew what love looked like. 

He had watched his mother love his father, even when Goose was gone. He had been too young to remember much about his father, but he could get a pretty good idea who Nick Bradshaw had been by the hole left in Carole’s life.

He knew that his dad would bring home flowers from how his mom always kept a vase of flowers on the table. His dad must have danced with her while dinner cooked because she danced Bradley around the kitchen his whole life. Goose had been a lighthearted goofball, judging by the look in Carole’s eye when Bradley would goof off to make her laugh.

He also saw it in the way she cried the first time he played the piano. He had stopped immediately, but she had quickly come over to the piano bench and crouched beside him.

“Honey, no” she’d said, combing his hair back gently with her fingers. “I’m not sad, baby, you just look so much like your dad right now. He used to play the piano all the time.” She had smiled at him before she continued, “He wanted to teach you to play when you got big enough. Oh, Bradley, he’d be so proud of you.”

Bradley hadn’t been able to give up the piano since that day. It made his mom happy to hear, so he would keep playing, for her. 

Bradley had tried as much as he could to fill the space left behind by his father, though he knew there was no replacing Nick Bradshaw. When Carole was taken, he found himself unsure whether to feel more strongly the grief of losing her or the relief that she was reunited at last with her beloved Goose. He knew that as fiercely as she loved him, she also loved her husband and had missed him for many years, and a part of Bradley was glad they were together again.

He vowed quietly to himself that he would find what they had for himself, however impossible it seemed to find someone who would fit with him as perfectly as they had fit together.

That promise faded to the back of his mind for a long time. Bradley became a naval aviator like his father, as a pilot like Maverick. He fought his way to the sky, and fought some more to become one of the very best. His life got busy, and the few relationships he had didn’t last long. In time, he all but stopped dating, and the thought of fitting together with someone was nothing more than a daydream.

Then he met you.

He wasn’t entirely sure what changed, but he was drawn to you in a way he had been drawn to no one else. The long-distant promise surfaced in his memory, along with whispers of a love he barely remembered seeing. Bradley was no longer the hopeful, starry-eyed boy he had once been, so he cautiously tucked away the way his heart skipped a beat when he saw you.

He learned quickly that ignoring the feeling didn’t make it go away. It didn’t matter where or when he saw you or what you were doing. If he saw you when you just woke up, your hair a mess as you came to answer the door in a baggy shirt, his heart thumped a little harder in his chest. If he saw you all dressed up for something special, he couldn’t stop the way the breath was knocked from his lungs.

Eventually, he couldn’t keep everything he felt bottled up any longer. Much to the relief of his colleagues, he confessed it all to you, though, that relief soon returned to fond exasperation as he kept talking about how wonderful you were to anyone who would listen.

The development of your relationship slowly led him to realize that he had been wrong about his parents. They had not, in fact, found each other and just perfectly fit together. Their lives didn’t just twine together and continue as they always had.

Carole and Goose were the epitome of soulmates, but they were also the demonstration that soulmates were not born, they were made. They chose, daily, to love each other with their whole hearts. Every day, every choice, every word, every action, they chose to grow together and create an entirely new way of being that bettered them both. 

Bradley saw how you and he changed as you grew together. He saw how you took to evening showers once the two of you moved in together, just so you could spend the time with him when he came home from the airfield covered in sweat. Even before the two of you moved in together, you had given him one of your drawers during a particularly rough training patch that had Bradley falling asleep every time he came over. You hadn’t had the heart to wake him, so you made a way for him to stay. 

He started trading sleep to write you letters when he had to be away from you. You also noticed that he started stocking your skincare products and even period products in his bathroom. You could’ve sworn he somehow knew the warning signs better than you.

The two of you stashed a bluetooth speaker in the kitchen so you could play music and sing and dance while the two of you cooked dinner. He had told you once that Carole used to dance with him and you had smiled softly at him as you pulled him closer. When he was missing his parents, that became your go-to offer of support, especially when he couldn’t manage words. 

That’s not to say there were no unpleasant moments. You had your fair share of disagreements and comments said in anger that neither of you meant. So you also learned how Bradley shut down when he was upset. He didn’t raise his voice at you-- he rarely raised his voice to begin with, and it was never directed at you--but he would turn off. You could see the mask of apathy fall over his features. He learned how you became afraid that he would hate you after your more tense fights, but hated asking him to reassure you in case you drove him further away. 

So, you grew together. Bradley still needed space when he was frustrated, but he got better at recognizing and communicating when he was nearing his breaking point. For your part, you slowly processed that it wasn’t personal as you grew to trust him more. You also got better at asking him to reassure you, and he never turned that down, even when he was upset. He also could see the signs that you needed him and would offer reassurance before you needed to ask.

He also learned the little things about you. You loved to watch sunsets on the beach, so he tried to ensure at least one day a week that the two of you could go for a walk together in the evenings. You loved to watch snow fall, so he took you on a trip to a mountain cabin where you had snowball fights and sat wrapped up in each other by the fire. If you loved it, he had likely tried to do it with you.

Bradley saw you do the same for him. He loved flying, so once they were repairing their relationship, you had bribed Maverick to let Bradley borrow his P-51 Mustang for a day so you could fly together. Of all the flights he had taken, that was his favorite. You had found sheet music for a song he couldn’t get out of his head that you’d heard him humming. Now it was one he played often, just for you.

Even in your opposites, the two of you adjusted to a balance that worked for both of you. While you tended to be more shy, preferring nights in with a video game or a mug of tea and a book, Bradley loved going out with his people and the chaotic energy he could whip up when he played piano at the bar. 

So you did some of both. You braced yourself for going out with the noisy bunch of naval aviators and even found yourself enjoying the boisterous energy. You came to love it, though it still drained you quickly. He didn’t at all mind holding you after, helping you through your evening routine as he lent you some of his own strength. Other nights, Bradley would hold you while you read aloud, or play the piano you had at home in a quiet concert just for you. He adored how warm you were and appreciated the quiet peace he found in these moments with you. You loved when he was settled enough to lay his head in your lap so you could play with his hair.

Today, he had had a rare day off and found he couldn’t bring himself to do much more than stay in bed with you. So that was what you did. Mind you, that didn’t mean you did nothing. 

Bradley looked down at where you lay on his chest, your hand tucked in his as his other hand stroked lazily along your bare back. You had dozed off quickly in a blissful haze after he’d cleaned you up gently. How he had gotten so lucky to find you, he wasn’t sure. You, with your skin practically glowing in the golden light of the early afternoon. To him, you looked like an angel lying there in his arms. He couldn’t resist the urge to press a kiss to your forehead.

You stirred then, turning your nose to nuzzle into his chest. Bradley could have sworn his heart stopped.

“Bradley?”

“Yeah, honey?”

His arm shifted with you as you adjusted to curl even closer to him. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he murmured, kissing the top of your head again.

“You’re really warm, but can we pull the blanket up? My back’s cold.”

That made him laugh, even as he obliged. With the soft comforter tucked up to your shoulders, you snuggled in against him. Bradley’s hand returned to its path up and down your spine. “Better?”

“Much,” you hummed.

After a moment, he said your name tenderly, a question. 

You squeezed his hand in response, wordlessly encouraging him to continue.

“Do you ever think about how much we’ve changed since we met?”

“Sometimes,” you answered honestly. “Why?”

“Just thinking a lot lately. We’ve changed a lot since then.”

He felt you nod against his chest as you started to fiddle with his wedding ring. It was a sure sign you weren’t sure what he was getting at, but you trusted him enough to only say, “we have.”

“When I met you, I didn’t know how much truly loving someone would change me. I really like who I’ve become with you. I like who we’ve become together.” He felt you smile as you kissed his chest. The warmth that bloomed there confirmed for him what he was about to say, though he already felt the truth of it in his bones. “I have loved every version of you. I can’t wait to meet and love all the other versions of you that come along for the rest of our lives.”

As he had predicted, that had you turning your face into him shyly. He would’ve sworn he could feel your face heating up where your skin met his.

Eventually, you propped yourself up to look at him. Your hand that wasn’t in his found its way into his hair. “Bradley Bradshaw, are you sure you’re an aviator and not a poet?”

He chuckled, hand flattening on your back. “For you? I might just be both.”

If he could freeze the next moment and live in it forever, he would. You were propped up over him, the reassuring weight of you against him. The golden light from the window seemed to be everywhere, shining off you hair and glittering in your eyes. The way your face glowed was entirely you as you smiled at him. 

Bradley couldn’t think of anything other than how much he loved you and how he was certain now, more than he had ever been, that his parents were proud of him. He had kept his promise and built a love as strong as theirs with you. 

When you leaned down and kissed him, he silently made a new promise, one he knew he would keep.

He swore with every slow press of his lips to yours that every day, every version of you, he would love you.

And man, oh man, he looked forward to it.

Top Gun Tags:

@malindacath @army24--7 @mads-weasley

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #rooster #rooster bradshaw #top gun #top gun maverick #hoo boy I dunno if I'll ever top this for writing

[jojolymes]

𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐕𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐒; preface

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄 ¡!

next: I. 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫 | table of contents

𑁍

˗ˏˋ UNDER OUR VEINS 'ˎ˗

chainsaw man

❝IT IS YOUR FEAR, HUMAN, THAT HAD GIVEN ME THE STRENGTH I NEEDED�� I WAS MERELY IN YOUR DEBT.❞

┊ ✧. you had a normal life— at least that was what you convinced yourself— until that devil came along. now, all your dreams have been replaced by the reality that you must now work as a devil hunter.

PLAYLIST .ೃ࿐

your dog; soccer mommy

❝i don't wanna be your fucking dog that you drag around,

a collar on my neck tied to a pole, leave me in the freezing cold.❞

where's your head at; basement jaxx

❝don't let the walls cave in on you, you turn the world away from you;

where's your head at? where's your head at?❞

love my way; the psychedelic furs

❝there's an army on the dance floor it's a fashion with a gun, my love—

in a room, without a door, a kiss is not enough in...❞

i'm so sick; flyleaf

❝if you want more of this we can push out, sell out, die out so you'll shut up

and stay sleeping with my screaming in your itching ears.❞

all she does is kill shit; the i.l.y's

❝all i do is deal with it, talk myself through with it.

have a bad mood with it, get as close as i can get.❞

brand new city; mitski

❝but if i gave up on being pretty, i wouldn't know how to be alive

i should move to a brand new city and teach myself how to die.❞

l-over; u.s. girls

❝i don't know what i'll do without you;

take up worship at some mile's end?❞

be quiet and drive (far away); deftones

❝this town don't feel mine, i'm fast to get away, far...

i dressed you in her clothes now drive me far away, away, away.❞

chainsaw the door; the garden

❝a family that you don't like, a fuckin slug on a motor bike,

a dark old memory that's got you trapped for a century.❞

FOREWORD .ೃ࿐

˚ · . warnings¡!

HEAVY LANGUAGE, DIRTY JOKES

DENJI'S GOALS *SKULL*

CANON-TYPICAL VIOLENCE, SUBSTANCE ABUSE

˚ · . notes¡!

DENJI, POWER, AKI, KOBENI, ANGEL, BEAM, REZE X FEM!READER

┊ ✧. mc is 18-19; denji, beam, reze & power are 17-18; aki, kobeni, angel, are 19-20;

✧. mc has a fear of needles for plot purposes

✧. there is a relationship between the mc and makima which is meant to be taken as toxic not 'mommy' material

for an easy reading experience, follow # underourveinscsm

#underourveinscsm #chainsaw man #csm #chainsaw man x reader #hayakawa aki x reader #denji x reader #power x reader #higashiyama kobeni x reader #angel devil x reader #beam x reader

[eviecries]

Grandpa/Grandma’s Farm Legacy

This is my first generations challenge! There might be some tweaking along the way. 🩷

Required packs:

Horse Ranch

Growing Together

Cottage Living

City Living

Eco Lifestyle

High School Years

Cats & Dogs

Seasons

Get To Work

Get Together

Snowy Escape

Get Famous

You can replace traits with other traits if you want or you don’t own all these packs. Do whatever you want, just follow the main rules.

You can download the starting lot on the gallery. The my ID is pasteliiish. It’s labeled “Grandpa/Grandma’s Farm”

Place the lot in the biggest lot in the horse ranch world. You don’t need to afford it, you can use cheats.

Move into the lot

You can start the challenge with the maximum of 500 simolians (ignore my bad spelling, it’s a made up word, okay?)

MAIN RULES

You cannot sell anything on the lot. You must make your own money. You can “clean up” the lot over time in build mode. There is a lot of debug items. :)

You can renovate the house over time. Upgrade appliances, counters, furniture, etc. the only rule for this is you cannot delete the original house. You can only add onto it.. meaning that you basically just can’t start from scratch. (You can move the house on the lot though)

Renovate the house however you’d like. Change up the outside, inside. Add more floors. Expand it.

Next to the house there is a stable with stuff for a horse and nectar making. This rule also applies to this.

WORLD SETTINGS

Make sure families can’t move or move into other houses. That’s it.

Generation #1 - The inheritance

A few years ago, you inherited your grandparent’s farm. It’s old and dinky, but you have many great memories here. You have spent summers camping here and telling stories around the fire. You have bonded with animals and the townspeople alike. And now you’re all grown up. And you’ve decided to move in. It’s.. a mess. It clearly hasn’t been taken care of in a while. Sure, it may be old and close to falling apart, but hey— you’re pretty sure you can make something great out of it.. right?

Traits:

Rancher

Animal Enthusiast

Clumsy

Generation Challenges

Complete the Expert Nectar Maker aspiration

Never have a job and make money by nectar and livestock

Have one kid (Required)

Teach your kid the horse riding skill

Expand the house to have at least another bedroom and bathroom

Max the Nectar making skill(?)

Generation #2 - The Horse Lover

Ever since you where little you have been OBSESSED with horses. Your parent has made sure you have grown up around animals and farm life. And you love it. You couldn’t be more grateful. Now, your goal is to become the greatest horse rider of all time.

Traits:

Horse Lover

Loves the Outdoors

Jealous

Generation Challenges

Complete the Championship Rider aspiration

Train horses as your job (I haven’t looked so I do not know if there’s an actual job for this, but you can train horses using the community boards around the world)

Have one-two kids (Required)

teach your kid the horse riding skill

Expand the house

Max the horse riding skill and parenting skill

Generation #3 - Chasing Fame

You have lived in Chestnut Ridge your whole life.. and frankly, you’re done with it. You want to get out of this old house. It’s so.. dirty! All you want is to be a musician in the cities and become big and famous. How hard is that to ask for? So you decide to move out. Your parent is heartbroken, but you could care less. You’re finally living the dream.. at least that’s what you think.

Traits:

Self-Absorbed

Cheerful

Music Lover

Generation Challenges

As soon as you become a young adult, move out of Chestnut Ridge and move to San Myshuno

Complete the World Famous Celebrity aspiration

Max the singing skill

“Accidentally” have a kid (required, this can be cheated or legit)

Never get married

Once your parent dies, visit your childhood home and realize that you miss it (parent death can be cheated or legit)

As an adult/elder move back into your childhood home and buy a horse and max your friendship level with your horse

Slowly lose your fame and switch to a family aspiration. You do not need to complete the aspiration.

That’s it for now. I’ll be adding more to this challenge over time, but I’m tired. Enjoy :)

#ts4 simblr #ts4 legacy #ts4 story #sims 4 gameplay #ts4 #sims4 #legacy challenge

[tascha-schwarz]

Imagine… Barbossa sacrificing himself to save your life

Requested a replacement of Carina in dmtnt by @princessofthornsandroses

Warnings: angst, main character’s death

You’ve known Hector Barbossa for just a few years. After forming a fleet of his own, he started showing up in your inn once and again. You’ve surely heard about him, a man who’d broken an Aztec curse that laid on him, who’d been killed and came back to life, fought against a kraken and won, who’d taken revenge over Captain Teach, whose attack had costed him his ship and his leg, known to be so evil Hell itself spat him back out, but actually the loveliest person you’ve ever met. You wished he made port here more often, so you could see him many a time and have one of those cordial conversations that always lasted deep into the night, leaving a subtle smile on your face, warmth in your soul and pleasant memories to cheer your heart… or to rather break it. The fact is that you were head over hills in love with the man, but would never have the guts to confess your feelings to him. Little did you know you meant for him quite as much.

***

Barbossa was sitting in his cabin, twiddling an exquisite golden ring between his long bony fingers. He’s just been reported about another ship a revived pirate-hunter Salazar has destroyed. Queen Anne’s Revenge and the magical sword gave him power which helped him conquer mastery over the mortals, but the dead… they’ve always been pain in the ass. Fighting them was not what he had planned, yet there he was – sailing after the cursed ship to stop flagrant waste of his people. The plan was risky, but he wouldn’t be Hector Barbossa if he hadn’t taken his chance. Fearless and cunning, combining experience with reckless daring, he was resolute to face the damned, but saying three simple words to the woman he loved didn’t come easy to him, and he started believing it never will.

Barbossa unclenched his fingers. The ring was shimmering at him from the flat of his palm. He’d bought it years ago. Back then, driven by the burst of his heart, it seemed so natural to propose to you with it once he’d returned, but the closer his ship drifted towards the land, the tighter realization of him being a bad party for you wrapped his mind. No, you’d never want to have him, he thought. How stupid it was thinking you would! A kind and innocent woman like you deserved someone so much better – a truly honorable, respectable man he’s never been and would never become. So the ring has found its permanent residence in the inner pocket of his vest and left it on those rare occasions when Barbossa felt the lowest in his spirits and disowned himself to frustration, misery and reflection.

Once he offered to bring you whatever piece of jewelry you wished as a humble token of his friendship, and you did ask for one. It was a simple turquoise pendant, which you shyly said you’d like to have. Of course, he found one. Ah, how glad you were to receive it. You didn’t answer him why you needed this exactly kind of stone – he could bring you the most expensive of diamonds – but for some reason this one made you happy. He took no notice, his lips stretched in a smile as the harbored memory emerged from the farthest corner of his mind.

***

Squeezing the pendant which you’ve never parted with since rough fingers of the pirate had fastened the chainlet on your neck, you kept your eye on the horizon, praying to see the imposing, terrifyingly beautiful ship, captained by the man no less remarkable in appearance and glorious in deeds to outshine his own vessel, whose reputation spoke louder and with bigger expression than himself… and who stole your heart. You’ve heard the rumor that a curse has fallen over the seas of the New World, a curse in the guise of a resurrected Spanish captain hunting down pirates, destroying their ships and taking their lives. You knew one day he would come for Hector as well. Apprehension laying heavy upon your soul, you couldn’t find any peace, any sleep, the only thing you wished was him to come back. Days dragged, months passed, but he never showed up. So when despair took over, you decided waiting was no longer bearable.

This was the craziest gamble in your life, you regretted getting involved in this a billion times, and a billion times worth it this turned out to be!

***

You startled at the sound of a rifle shot which interfered with the wedding ceremony destined to provide Jack Sparrow a fairly deserved opportunity to harvest the consequences of his actions, and your chest exploded with joy once you saw the man stepping proudly from behind the huge skeleton of a whale – or whatever it was – that served as a semblance of a temple in this solemn hour. You couldn’t believe your eyes, so improbable it seemed! Neither could Barbossa. He couldn’t have known you were there. Barbossa would’ve never imagined you might willingly put yourself in circumstances fraught with danger, and surely he didn’t expect you to set yourself on a journey across the seven seas. He definitely had no idea the only reason you ventured into this was his person.

Your young friends in misfortune who’ve been tied up same as yourself tensed even more, staring at their new company, but for you everything was over – you never doubted that. Now that he was here, you could finally stop worrying. Without saying a word, Barbossa unleashed your hands, occasionally shot the man who’s taken you hostage and made some arrangements with Jack. You couldn’t take your eyes off him. So many sleepless nights you’ve spent praying for his safety! And there he was – alive!

Since there were other important things to be undertaken, you didn’t have a chance to talk. Moreover, an impressive piece of magic he performed with his sword to restore the ship enclosed in a bottle, left you speechless. You’ve heard a bunch of unthinkable stories Barbossa had shared, but seeing it happening right before your eyes… it was mind-blowing.

“Ye all righ’?” he asked at last, helping you get in the boat to head on board of The Black Pearl.

“I’m fine,” you answered shyly, without any idea how to explain your presence on this island, among other pirates, one of whom was Jack Sparrow himself, whom Barbossa considered his deadly enemy and nemesis. A cold greeting he gave you added no confidence.

“Didn’t expect ta see ye ‘ere,” he frowned, looking into the distance, and you realized you might probably be a bother.

“Neither did I, actually,” you admitted, feeling so out of place. This was not how you’d imagined it. You thought with him by your side it all would get better, but it seemed to even change for the worse.

Barbossa remained brooding, showing deep unhappiness of thought, and you didn’t dare to speak all this time. You never happened to see him in his regular environment, focused on his goal, determined and ready to fight the devil himself. Clearly, he had no time for the sentiment.

Crumpling the fabric of your dress with your fingers, you didn’t even dare to look at him, afraid of the eye contact. You felt unwanted – a ballast you were.

“Ya still owe da inn, don’ ya?” he broke the silence, looking somehow concerned.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Good. I was wonderin’ what on earth might’ve brought ya ‘ere. One doesn’t leave the place which feeds.” 

“You’re right. I left Abigail to run it during my absence.”

“Ah, me dear ol' Abigail,” he smiled dreamily, “has she changed her mind about our sort?”

“No,” you chuckled, “she still thinks you’re a mobster.”

“Isn’t it who I am,” he squinted slyly. 

Now this was your Hector, the one you missed so much.

“I’m glad to see ya, I really am,” he assured with sadness. “Ya thought I ain’t?” 

You smiled apologetically. 

“It’s just a wrong time, such a wrong time! Things are getting dangerous. I wish ya were in a safer place now,” his features softened, but he remained serious. You didn’t tell the only place you wanted to be now was beside him. 

“I heard about the curse. You didn’t come back for so long.”

“Missed me, haven’t ya?” he spoke with smugness in his voice. 

“You wish, you cocky old bastard,” you teased in a friendly manner he got used to. But if he only knew how right he was! 

“So wha’ for a deal ya be having with Sparrow?”

“None,” you shrugged. “Just an unfortunate fellow traveler.”

***

“So? You’re happy now that you found your dearest friend?” Jack spat when you all were on board, and he was being tied up to the mast while you were not. “Such a passionate determination! Hector! You must be using some kind of sorcery to keep such a beauty attracted to your ugly ass.”

Barbossa looked at you inquiringly.

“She didn’t tell you?” Jack mocked.

Seeing your confusion, Barbossa retorted.

“Shut your trap, Sparrow. She surely did. Wha’ on earth made ya believe she wouldn’t?”

You were grateful he stood up for you, but felt miserable for not being honest with him. He deserved to know the truth, but would you be brave enough to reveal it?

***

“You were looking for me?” Barbossa asked in disbelief, when you finally stayed alone.”

“I just asked if he hadn’t heard about you by chance,” you lied, because that was actually a deal you had with Jack – to help you find Barbossa. “I was worried! It’s really been a long time since your latest visit.”

“Tha’ true. So it means you still missed me?” 

“Stop it,” you laughed, but he didn’t take his cheeky glance off you. “Yes!” you admitted, keeping dignity. “Yes, I did! Aren’t you my friend after all?”

Barbossa reached out for your neck. His finger gently hooked the chain you were wearing, and he pulled it carefully until the pendant was revealed from under the collar of your dress. 

“Still havin’ it?” he smiled softly, examining the stone. Your heart pounding from excitement of how close he was, you wondered if it was the right moment to confess? 

“Why turquoise, though?”

You looked at his hand holding your pendant, not daring to look him in the eyes. 

“It... uh... It reminds me of you...” you stuttered, feeling blood rushing to your face.

“It surely does, ‘cos it’s me who’s given it to ya,” he chuckled. “I still don’ get why this stone exactly?”

You took the pendant hanging down his finger, eventually touching his hand, which felt… breathtaking. 

“Have you still not associated one with the other?” you said in barely a whisper. “It’s the same color as your eyes...”

An overwhelming feeling of thrill and happiness almost paralyzed him. Barbossa stood speechless, not believing his ears. Did he get it right? His brows twitched in disbelief, and a spark flared within his eyes. He had so much to tell you! 

“Captain!” a voice interrupted your conversation.

One couldn’t have imagined a less suitable time. Barbossa cursed to himself. Damned be whoever called his name! He greeted his teeth. 

“Captain! We have a problem!”

The moment was ruined. Tearing apart between the call of his duty and his heart, Barbossa tried to find the right words not to leave you without an answer. They’d come difficult even if you were alone, but being distracted all the time made it impossible to concentrate. 

You turned away, feeling so exposed and so stupid. 

Without saying a word, Barbossa touched your chin to make you look him in the eyes. His intent stare carried a heavy load of restrained desire and unspoken pledge. You looked at him with desperate hope for a kiss you yearned so long, and which you weren’t designed to have.

“We shall talk later,” he whispered. “I promise. We not finished yet.”

***

You never had a chance to talk, though.

The attack of the dead men started, and you lost each other in the crowd. Barbossa fought furiously, knowing you were on the ship, he couldn’t let something happen to you. All his attempts to find you gave no result. He rushed around in anguish, fear squeezing his heart, when he suddenly saw you lying unconscious on the bottom of the sea, surrounded by the cursed coming back to life. Walls of water started closing up slowly to swallow the narrow line of the land, which was never meant to have men’s feet treading on it. Without hesitation, he gave the order to drop the anchor. 

Barbossa was not a man of honor, but a man of his own interests, however, when your life was at stake, he acted selflessly, with readiness to give his life for the sake of your salvation. He wasn’t a bad man all along, some part of him has always been prone to a feat. 

You came to your senses at the feeling of being dragged. Still stunned, you hardly comprehended what was happening. 

“Hector,” you gasped in confusion.

“C’mon, me dear, we run out of time!” he helped you climb up the anchor chain, but you were too weak to pull up fast. 

Salazar was catching up with you now. Everyone realized, determined in his fury and greedy for revenge, he’d kill all of you one by one. 

“It is not how I wished this ta end,” Barbossa smiled sadly and took hold of his sword.

“What?” you startled.

“Promise me ya have a long an’ happy life!”

“What??? No!!!” you grabbed his hand, which seized the huge chain link right next to yours. You couldn’t believe he was going to fight Salazar. “Let’s just hurry up!” you pulled him, but he didn’t move.

“Promise me,” he looked at you the way he never did, but the way he’s always wanted, now freely revealing all the tenderness and affection he felt towards you. 

“No!!!” you cried. “Hector, no! Not without you!!!” tears streaming down your cheeks, you refused to agree with his decision. You refused to believe you were going to lose him once and for all. 

“I love ya, me dear, always had,” he was smiling. You could barely distinguish his features now because of the tears, “from the first time I saw ya I was dreamin’ about ya.” 

“I love you too, Hector, love you so much!” you squeezed his hand as tight as you could to not let him fall. “Please, climb up!!!” you panicked, recklessly trying to pull him again. 

“Be happy,” he appealed, “and don’ grieve too long, I definitely don’ deserve yer tears.”

In face of the death, he tried to remain positive. He resigned himself with his fortune and had no fear – sacrificing his life, he knew he’d save yours, and this made it possible to meet the end with ease in his heart and harmony in his soul. 

“Hector!” you sobbed, still not giving up on tugging him upwards. “You can’t leave me! I don’t know how to live without you!” It all seemed just like a bad dream.

“Ya know, sweetheart. Ya been livin’ withouta me yer whole life.”

“Hector, no!” you bellowed in despair.

“I love ya an’ always will,” he smiled you goodbye and unclenched his fist. His hand slipped out of yours, and he fell down to defeat Salazar and disappear in a foaming storm of water.

“Nooo!!!” you cried your lungs out, “nooo!!!”

For a split second you thought you’d follow the man you couldn’t imagine your life without into the depths of the sea, but you didn’t have the guts for this either. You clenched the anchor chain and wailed with a heartache so severe, you started suffocating. Emptiness gaping in your soul, you watched water closing up under your feet, feeling nothing but anguish, misery and pain.

~~~~°~~~~•~~~~°~~~~•~~~~°~~~~•~~~~°~~~~•~~~~

A/N: I hate writing along with the script! It puts me in boundaries and makes me feel as if it was concocted out of thin air. But I had so much fun writing this!

#barbossa #hector barbossa #barbossa x reader #hector barbossa x reader

[i-bring-crack]

Shadow Soldier Esil!

Okay an AU where Esil dramatically(accidentally) dies during the final boss fight, Sung is sad for a bit, doesn't know if he should bring back the body to his parents since he did promise her safety ah, and this might lead to a war with the last clan when—

[You can extract this Demon's Shadow]

"Huh?!" He couldn't before and now he can?

But she seemed nice... should he do it?

Well, he did technically cause her death(kinda) so he does. The darkness encapsulates her body, a new shade of paleness appears on her skin, and dark red irises are now replaced within the glowing blue of his shadows, and a flicker of light white light.

It seems she cant speak like she used to, whe Esil notices this too, she covers her mouth quickly. Then starts writting on the sand with a scale from one of the destroyed demons.

{You have revived me?}

Jin Woo nods. "I had made a promise to your father to keep you safe, yet i failed. Im sorry."

Her new memories have been recovered, as well as those that have been replicated in the dungeon. However, no matter how much she hold the scalp of the demon in place, or triesto write with her fingers, her mind blanks. She looked to her side, there is that marshal she has seen before, The Blood Red Commander.

She understands it all now, and begins to write anew, a different thought in her mind.

{You have freed me from death, God of Death, and for that, my life is yours to wield as you please.}

"Really?"

[??? level 5

Rank: Knight]

"Esil...ah, just Esil, will that be alright?"

The shadow drops a sigh, her attitude still not changed towards Jin Woo despite being under the influence of the system. With a slow nod and a small frown she nods back.

Her name is now Esil.

"Good. Esil, we have to leave quickly so I dont know if we will be able to let you meet your father for the last time--"

The shadow is oddly touched by the sudden attitude, she raises a hand up and writes down that there is no need, all of the words that needed to be said have been said, besides, that demon on the other floors, as well as everyone else except her, is somewhere else, dead or not, these beings are memories she doesnt wish to go back to.

---

Despte being a small and weak shadow compared to all others like Iron or Igris, Esil does her best to help around, with a quick speed she can easily defeat more oponents than before, and now that she isnt so scared of death like she was in the past, Esil can use the full extent of her abilities.

For the most part she would be training in the shadow domain with Igris, also a swordsman like her, or be hunting down demons left and right with Iron and the rest of the beasts.

"Esil, I want you to guard Jin Ah." Jin Woo guesses that she might be the most fit out of all his shadows, since she seems to pose for a less threatning type unlike the golems and huge knights at her disposal, but after Jeju and all the level up to Elite knight in such a short amount of time, he has confidence in Esil to be at least the power of an S rank, meaning Jin Ah would be powerful enough for even A rank beasts to not be a threat to her well being.

Which leads Esil and Jin Ah to a weird meeting when Esil accidentally is found using the bathroom to style her hair. (She thought Jin Ah was sleeping but... oh boy, humans have to go pee at night huh.)

"So you are one of my oppai's summons?" Jin Ah asks whille they are both on the sofa, with the little sister styling her hair in whatever way the girl likes to do. Esil shyly nods, praying to no one that Jin Woo doesnt kill her because she was found out, ah! but its been ages since she has taken care of herself or even looked at herself! She really just wanted to at least braid her hair! My liege dont kill m for this!!

"Cool! Can you talk?"

Esil shakes her head.

"What about writting?"

Cue Esil learning Korean in a few months. Beru also teaching her some phrases of modesty and being proud he knows Korean and Japanese. Esil also learns some Japanese along the way while talking to Beru, both getting along surprisingly well inside the domain because they like watching Korean Dramas.

Jin Ah, and Song Yi, also likes to play dress up with the Demon princess, often coming back from a shopping spree and trying out new things on her.

"Jin Ah, don't go buying so much stuff now that your brother is an S rank."

"Aww. But mom! Look at her she is so pretty! And besides, we have so much money now, I promise we are just going to rent clothes from now on, and there not even a lot, so pleaseee~~~"

-

Esil also helps around in the house, since the mom bearly got out of the hospital after sleeping for years, so her body must have been dense and not willing to do a lot of work.

Park is thankful for such a good princess that she is, even if her knowledge is albeit, a bit lacking in the caring for someone department. So Park has to be there to teach her how to use certain utensils, clean the house and other kinds of stuff. Sometimes she burns out a few things and leaves the house in a messier state than before, which prompt Jin Ah to also help her clean when she isn't in school or doing her homework.

But at the end, she is getting better at it.

(Sidenote: Esil works as a maid at night-time, following every step mother park lay out to her, and then when Jin Ah has to go to school she slips back into her shadow and learns a lot more than Jin Ah is taking notes on. She loves History and Math, which is a blessing to Jin Ah because she is a wreck in those two subjects.

Esil becomes some sort of tutor to Jin Ah, while also studying everything else alongside her. She even uses what she learned in school to advance her knowledge and technique over the world they are in.)

Phew! This is one of the first times she has ever worked so hard! And just look at the cleaned spots, all the laundry done and the breakfast prepared for breakfast, dinner and lunch before they even wake up!

"Hah! I'm such a good house maid! Take that Beru! He said I would be able to clean even a bug from my Liege's house because of my "princess attitude" but look at me now! I have overcome my fears yet again!"

"Esil??"

The demon stubles back, her body falling right on the bucket full of dirty mop water which lands back on the floor.

Noooo, it took three times to clean it so spotlessly!!

Of course there isn't any time to cry about it when Jin Woo suddenly hold her up and looks at her very very confused.

"You can talk?!?"

Esil shows him the phone, one that has text to speech app put on it. Though she was just writing it out, didn't really mean to press it play right now.

-

Jin Woo isn't mad. Just slightly annoyed no one told him why Jin Ah suddenly had a shopping habit and why his mother never once looked so tired from doing all the housework.

After cleaning up the mess, he did want to thank the demon, though he sure how, so he simply patted her head and thanked her for all the hard work.

Which seemed to be a little too much since the princess started crying and rapidly thanking out her phone saying that it was not a problem at all, she shouldn't be thanked, she was doing the bare minimum, Yada Yada, Sung stopped her from typing out more and getting on her knees.

"You did well, Esil"

-

The other two shadows that where inside Jin Ah's shadow were made to stand by at the classroom were the Liege's sister stood, meanwhile Esil started to fight the other magic beasts like she was out for blood. Which, considering just how much time she had gotten to learn about the people in the school, all the friends Jin Ah had and all the other innocent kids that at one point where just like her, never meant to be suddenly killed because of a meaningless war.

She was, she was coming out for blood.

The first floor, some of them died, the second and third where almost spotless. At least Jin Ah never got to experience it up close. Yet one to two always escaped from her grasp. The golems decided to gang up on her at another moment. She was sending out all of her alarms to inform the King that Jin Ah was in danger, but he didn't come.

Fear trembled out of every bone in her body when the wounds would start healing at a slower pace. Esil didn't know what it could possibly mean. Still she did what she could to at least stop them from harming the other students. And when one of her arms had been cut off, Esil chose to run.

Unsurprisingly, the magic beasts chased her down.

Good. That's what she wanted in the first place.

As Esil ran around the halls, she commemded one of the two shadow soldiers to grab the rest of the kids and guide them to Jin Ah's classroom.

Once all the survivors lay inside that classroom, then she would be fine to...

Her arm slowly started growing back, she was elighted to see it so. Her King was close now, then Jin Ah would be safe and she wouldn't need to worry—

SLASH!

"So you are the demoness that has been killing my soldiers and annoyed me from taking over the world."

Her phone cracked, she couldn't say anything, and her body was slowly being shaken up by a sudden wave of mana.

Mana that didn't come from the dungeon boss. It came from the person behind him.

"You did well, Esil, now go."

The dungeon boss moved his head around. Quickly, as Esil's body was regenerating, she retreated back to the classroom, not wanting to face the absolute bloodshed that was to come.

----

"My Liege forgive me! I'm really sorry! Due to my failure to keep my promises my Liege has once again been hurt! I have committed a great sin I know I have and you may punish me as you please but forgive me My Lord for my incompetence!"

"Esil—"

She hugged his leg.

"Pleaseee I'm sorrryyyy I really tried. Don't send me back to sleep pleaseeeeee!!"

"Esil, Esil listen to me I know you did your best, and I'm not going to send you away so calm down."

It was his first time seeing a shadow tear up. "Really?"

"Yes. I'm just going to leave Beru in their care now, you can move back to fight in Beru's place instead. I know you are strong, but you need to become stronger if you want to keep protecting Jin Ah and my mother. So until you reach a higher grade, you will be doing raids with me."

"...ok." She nodded. "Will I still be able to see them?" She scribbles out in her notebook and Jin Woo has to admit he is a bit jealous of how beautiful her hand writing is compared to his. Is because of her past? *shrug*

"Yes, when I come back from the raids you can join Jin Ah in her studies—Ah! Why are you crying again?!"

----

Other fun shenanigans:

• Jin Woo and Esil bake together. Esil ends up burning hers which makes Jin Woo laugh.

• Igris treats Esil like a little Swordsman Junior.

•At first Beru is intolerable to Esil, but they get somewhat along when they watch K historial dramas and often comment on how obvious it is that character will die or that character will end up marrying the protagonist. Or how that one is totally the villain!

•Jin Woo buys Esil a text to speech machine that has been inveted since the experimentation with machines and mana. It can use her thoughts and translate them into the sound that appears in the tiny microphone that Esil wears as a necklace. One time a magic beast tried to catch it. Jin Woo saw her massacrating a body in such a messy way for the first time.

•Jin Ah created an Instagram account for her. There Esil cosplays as random elf girls from ranging topics from Games to Anime to just popular media in general. They can only do this on the weekends though but Esil has such a huge Fanbase starting from her first post.

• She also gets dressed up in her shadow armor. The one from the first chapters when Jin woo meets her, with the helmet and all. That's mostly what she wears on her raids.

•She treats Jin Hoo with a lot of care too, often buying out more food to make a lunch for him too.

• Esil likes to keep trinkets of some beasts she killed. She also hands Jin Ah a pearl necklace whose origin was better not to discuss.

• Esil was thought to be Jin Woo's girlfriend at one point since one of the Instagram posts showed a picture of Jin Woo and Jin Ah framed in the back (It was when Jin Ah made a selfie with her brother, Miss Park wanted to frame it.) And it blew up so much that even some S rank hunters saw them. Ohohoho.

•Jin Woo hugged her and apologized to her when he first had the flashback to the War between The Monarch of White Flames and Beast Monarch against Ashborn.

She was one of the few whose bodies had not been incinerated (by Baran, he didn't want his soldiers to be turned into the soldiers of Ashborn.) And therefore The shadow Monarch could extract her.

She didn't leave the shadow domain, but she wasn't a slacker either. Just as strong as the rest of them, but not by much, she simply handled some organized duties of the King and killed as many as she needed. So it was hard for Ashborn to know whenever Esil wanted to stay or leave. Her small and fragile attitude was also why Igris cared for her when they met again. Since the poor girl had lost of all her family, but due to the effects of being a Shadow, she couldn't even hate the killer, so she was in a bit of a depression.

Of course it all slowly began to change when she was transported to the Demon realm. She had a choice, to be killed by Ashborn's succesor or to join him until the end.

And meeting this new succesor who looked so weak human-wise and yet so strong as he could summon Igris with him... She choose to stay, thinking that she could have a chance at life again without the need to feel sad that she wasn't joining the side of the person who murdered her family. But rather someone new, a new King of Death. A new Shadow Monarch.

She wasn't following Ashborn out of survival. She was was following Sung Jin Woo out of her own free will.

And the promise to be protected by him only made her resolvement stronger.

Of course she had to get out of the castle, so in an attempt to save Jin Woo on the 100th floor, she chose to attack Baran, her progenitor and ancestor, causing her to end her life.

Maybe this time, she can save a world from the same world that has brought hers to extinction.

#esil #Esil #Esil radiru #sung jinwoo #sung jin woo #Sung Jin Woo x Esil Radiru #best waifu now! #canon divergent au #fanfic #we need more Esil in our lives #Beru and Esil watching K dramas omg #Jin ah twich streams their conversations. #Sung Jin Ah #yoo jin ho #song yi #fuck i forgot the name om Jin Woos mother #OMG the monarch fight will be crazy if Esil reaches a stronger level and has to see Jin Woo die but cant do SHIT #I am imagining Commander Level Esil by the midle of the 27 years war with the monarchs #she finally is able to speak #and blabers on about how cool Jin Woo is or about how sad she is she might never be able to see those Korean manwhas in this timelkne #timeline #ahgakwbs #Esil also helping Igris evade the fire breath from Antares #the apprentice has become the master! #But Jin Woo was faster so she could only drag Igris out of the fire and not Jin Woo who was protecting Igris #Bellion spoiling Esil #Esil Beru and Bellion making Jin Woo the demon castle but Jin Woo cant get mad at Esil since she tried her best #solo leveling au #solo leveling manwha

[theotheroccassionalfanficwriter]

Online God In Search of a Wife

Summary: Levi never expected that his first ever online confession would occur in Ragnarok: Online and from his very own guild master. His human brother-in-arms who drank the wine of brotherhood with him.

L3V1: The game does not allow same-sex marriage

Daddy_Wolf: I can afford to change my gender

L3V1: ...

Guild Member 1: ...

Guild Member 2: ...

Fuck! This wasn't covered in RAD!!

Tags: Proactive Reader, Gaming Terms, 2000s gaming culture, Guild Master Reader, Vice Guild Master Leviathan, oblivious Levi, idiots in love, scheming reader, Angst with Comfort, Flashbacks, CEO Game Developer Reader, First Love

--

It was a cold winter night at Japan for you. Another day of working for the game department as one of its beta tester. And though the coffee warmed you in a way it still didn't completely erase the melancholic air you carried with you. A gentle sort of sadness that can be seen in the way your smiles never reached your eyes and your polite distant attitude.

It had been almost 20 years since your first heart break but even if you had found partners after it, all of your relationships had ended one way or another. Therefore you couldn't help but look a little envious of the occasional couple you'd see having a date as you made your way to the station and back to your apartment.

Not even the new soundtracks released for The Seven Lords series appealed to you. Even if you were working on a game based on it, the memories and person you had come to associate with it came back as you worked on the Lord of Envy update.

You gloomily looked out of the train window and stared at the falling snow and wondered how different life would have been for you had you taken all the chances you had back then. And then from the corner of your eye you saw creeping darkness and then as you turned to look, you suddenly found yourself at a room that almost resembled a court room.

"Welcome to Devildom!" the man said.

You blinked at him in confusion.

-

Mammon was for the better part of the word, an interesting person who made his love of money quite apparent when asked. He was quite cute too, adorable even.

"What are ya staring at?" He asked grumpily.

"Hey, Mammon-sama~ what do you think about being the model for the game I'm working at?"

He was surprised at the sudden offer and smiled at you brightly that for a moment you wondered if an angel replaced him.

"Human~ Do you really think that I, Mammon the Avatar of Greed, would be that easy?" He threatened.

"I'll pay you with 500,000 Yen in human money and you'll get 20% from the total monthly sales of any merchandise that has your face in it."

"I-I'm not that easy!"

You could see him struggling with what he said and wondered what you should do to get his agreement when another voice chimed in the conversation.

You turned and saw the most beautiful debt collector however as an adult who knew their priorities you had immediately latched on to Mammon’s arm and said sweetly,

“Mammon-sama~ If you worked as my company’s game model you’d be able to pay off your debts faster~” 

With an easy way out of trouble, Mammon accepted your help. In another time, and another reality you would have gotten Mammon’s pact but in this...perhaps you’ve gotten something more.

-

20 Years Ago

It had been a year since Levi had begun playing the newly released Ragnarok : Online and in that span of a year he had built a top guild from the ground up with his online best friend, you.

You had helped him out in the beginning, teaching him how to use the interface and taking him along to level up. You had been kind and didn't laugh or tease him with his ineptness when it came to social interaction. You acted as his buffer and Levi adored you for it.

Which was why when you had expressed the interest of making a guild, he had immediately jumped on it and made it real for you. Gifting the position of Guild Master, and him as your tactician and Vice Guild Master to make it successful. Levi smiled at the memory especially the blushing, happy, and kiss emoticon you had used on him.

Daddy_Wolf: Oh? my Lord is here?

L3V1: I just decided to check up on my Henry...

Levi blushed and tried to stop the shaking of his fingers. As he quickly and carefully typed,

L3V1: I haven't seen you around much...are you planning on quitting?

Daddy_Wolf: Nope...My mum caught me gaming non stop and my grades dropped a bit

Daddy_Wolf: Comfort me, My Lord! I wanna play with you so bad but I have to study

Daddy_Wolf: For our bright future!!!! /cry

"Ugh! Why are you so cute!! Even if you're a guy!!!"

L3V1:/pat_head study hard I'll handle the guild affairs while you're gone

Daddy_Wolf: /kiss I'll come back in time for the guild war

Daddy_Wolf: use my account and inventory if u want

Daddy_Wolf: U still remember the pw right?

L3V1: yep go study now

Daddy_Wolf: I can play right now, lets go level up at Morroc Pyramid 3, you wanted Isis as a pet right?

Levi's already fluttering heart went over max capacity with how you remembered the pet he wanted even if he had only mentioned it in passing 3 months ago.

L3V1: How long can u stay?

Daddy_Wolf: about 4 hours lets make the best of it /smile

L3V1: /ok

Guild Member 1: wolf and levi r at it again

Guild Member 2: Daddy bring us out to farm too!!!

Daddy_Wolf: fuck! Who wants to be ur Daddy?!

Guild Member 2: lol only L3V1 can call you that huh

Guild Member 3: in this world the most special person in Wolf's heart is L3V1 lol

Guild Member 1: one time captain took me along to level up with the condition that the other drops that aren’t suitable for my class

Guild Member 1: would be his lol

Guild Member 1: i agreed and then when I checked the drops

Guild Member 1: the only drops that wasnt meant for my class lol was the rare drop for vice captain lol

Guild Member 1: I rose 40 levels but at what cost /cry /laugh

Guild Member 2: You too?!

Guild Member 3: for the sake of reaching Ascension 1 lol i am willing to work hard for the captain's love life lol

L3V1: it was probably not like that...Henry really cares about the guild members too

Guild Member 1: Vice captain so sweet /blush

Guild Member 2: vice captain /blush

Guild Member 3: lol captain good luck

Daddy_Wolf casted Jupiter's Thunder

Guild Member 3: fuck! Captain why did you kill me?!?! /shocked

Daddy_Wolf: my bad my mouse shook /smile /smile /smile

Levi took his eyes off the guild chat and saw in the gates outside their guild base in Payon...was the dead avatar of their guild member.

Daddy_Wolf: Levi im sending you an invite

L3V1: okay

Team Chat

Daddy_Wolf: free up your slots i'm giving you the incubators and food items

L3vi: should i get some items from kafra too?

Daddy_Wolf: hp and mana potions

Daddy_Wolf: I'll deal the main damage and just heal me when my hp and mana gets in half

Daddy_Wolf: when her health is low ill cast ice wall and you can catch her

L3V1: thnx

Levi wondered if he should sent the emoticon before deciding to throw caution to the wind and sent it to his Henry with a tomato red face.

L3V1: /kiss

Daddy_Wolf: /blush

Daddy_Wolf: /kiss ill telepirt us nie ok

Levi calmly stood up from his chair walked a few feet away to face his pet fish Henry and then screamed into the palms of his hand.

"GAAAAHHHH!!! CUTE CUTE WHY ARE YOU SO CUTE!!!" He screamed as he wiggled here and rolled over there, "IT WAS JUST A KISS WHY DID YOU GET SO FLUSTERED?!! YOU DO IT TO ME ALL THE TIME!!!"

Then he calmly got back to the chair and quietly and silently gamed with you. It took several tries and a couple of your death before he was able to get an Isis but in the end he was able to get it.

Daddy_Wolf: congrats my Lord!

L3V1: thnk u my Henry /kiss

Daddy_Wolf: btw why did u want Isis as a pet?

Being asked this question, Levi's hands stilled and he slowly and honestly typed,

L3V1: because it reminded me of you

L3V1: anyways your four hours is up hurry and log out before your mom kills you

And then he quickly logged out without saying goodbye.

On the other side, you, a 15 year old human sat behind a computer screen staring at the words he told you.

You blushed as you thought, 'somehow...that sounds like a love confession...'

-

A week had passed and Mammon had began hanging out with you 24/7 since your first day at Devildom. He had acted as a perfect babysitter for your weak human self, and easily spoiled him since he was good at acting cute. With each time you spent with him, the more you were sure with your decision that Mammon definitely fit the image of the Lord of Greed.

And this was something, you were vocal at whenever you saw Mammon act stupidly cute when it came to money.

Of course, you had bumped into his debt collector and younger brother: Leviathan, Avatar of Envy.

You had thought for a moment that he was your Levi before you dismissed that impossibility. The world would never be so kind to do such a thing for you. So you had struck an easy friendship with Levi, established further upon knowing that you were the game developer for  TSL: Online, and a devious partnership with Mammon.

There was also the added factor that you were matchmaking him with his colleague and fellow model friend of yours. So really, it was an eventful first month since you began the Exchange Student Program.

And the added responsibility of running a game company, you were amazed that you weren't running yourself to the ground. And you had said as much to Levi during one of your free down times where you opted to do your work while he played on the side.

"Tha-that's because you're just as amazing as Henry..."

You laughed at the irony of being compared to Henry once more, "Hey Levi, have I ever told you how I got into TSL?"

"Eh? There's a story behind it?"

Hearing the curiosity in his voice, you turned away from your monitor and faced him. The soft glow coming from his aquarium lights and his cute interested expression made you soft. He was so much like your Levi sometimes that you couldn't help but hope.

"Yep~ but I'll only tell you that story if you let me cuddle your demon form!"

There was also the fact that you made no secret of your crush on him, and took every opportunity to have skinship with him.

"You demon fetishist..." Levi complained even as he turned to his demon form and shyly placed his face on your exposed lap.

'Ah~I really wanna kiss Levi'

#leviathan x mc #leviathan x reader #levi x reader #obey me levi x reader #obey me levi x mc #obey me levi #obey me leviathan x reader #obey me leviathan x mc #obey me

[star-going-supernova]

FNAF Book 2: A Shadow’s Rise

“Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you.”

― Friedrich Nietzsche

CHAPTER 1: Out of the Abyss

              “The soul is a living organism. And for any question as to the soul's Life we must appeal to Life-science. And what does the Life-science teach? That if I am to inherit Eternal Life, I must cultivate a correspondence with the Eternal.”

- Henry Drummond

Michael P.O.V.:

I never thought I would become something to fear, but here I am, in the ruins of Fredbear Diner, standing as something dark, then again, I cannot remember ever feeling human after destroying Ennard. Although Elizabeth and Mom were still in Circus Baby and Ballora, I knew it was not how they used to be, but whatever remained, merged with the animatronics’ AI.

           Despite William saying that I was nothing but a failure and worthless, I was anything but those two things. It took a while, but I had proved him wrong, I graduated college with two degrees, Engineering, and Human Anatomy. As I kept my ear to the ground for any news on Afton. Turns out, the bastard had been looking for me all this time, could not accept the fact that I got away from him or that I moved on with my life instead of riddled with guilt.

           I may have come back but my body was still injured while my soul was stuck elsewhere, but replacing my stomach and ribs was easy. My only regret was that my family suffered worse than immediate death. William being the one to orchestrate their deaths was no real surprise, he hated my existence, long before my siblings’ deaths. So, making MY family suffer before killing them isn’t really a stretch.

The surprise came from knowing how my family died; my wife's soul was shattered in two and my son locked away, his mind broken by torture. I hear their screams in my sleep; coming back from the dead is painful but being powerless to save what truly mattered, can never be described.

Now I am alone, with nothing but a name, memories, and this mission. I hunt by night, for the corrupted souls of my brother, sister, and for the Mad Piper himself. Our last encounter was in upstate Utah, an abandoned warehouse was their dwelling, with an array of monitors and servers as one of his bodies.

William ran from me, leaving his followers paying their dues to the Reaper; I recall handing the corrupted souls to this mysterious being. I owe Spring Bonnie; it was all thanks to her that I could understand the riddles spoken by The Wall and negotiate with him.

The only catch was that I would be a form-shifting aberration, by day I walk among the rest as human and by night I hunt them as a biological Foxy animatronic wreathed in twisting shadows and cold, green-blue fire bleeding from my withered arm and eyes. I took to covering the arm in a black poncho, similar to

My prey tonight was a wretched man obsessed with keeping children from growing up. His base was an abandoned building marked for demolition, it reeked of copper, iron, and corpses. The insect was laughing as he continued sewing his recent kill, I faintly hear the sounds of crying and rattling chains from below. I decided that it was time to act, no more skulking around the dark. He had taken his last victim this night, there will not be anything left to show he existed beyond this madman’s lab.

“Andrew Spencer, it is time for you to pay for your sins, I am the one that was sent to collect.” I speak, hollow and cold, making him whirl around with eyes wide in panic and fear.

“WHO ARE YOU, MONSTER!” He demands, bloody scalpel raised in my direction as a threat.

“I see no reason to answer to a dead man, your pleas will be unheard as I tear your soul from your broken corpse.” I proclaim with heavy steps till I stand in the lab doorway.

           I stare him down before passing through the entrance, tattered cloak flapping with my advance. I stop a bit away from him, silence all around us as I let my declaration sink in. He grasps the situation quickly as he throws the knife at my eyes. I caught it between my fingers and weighed it in my hand before grasping it gently. I hear the killer breathing silently in panic as he hugged the wall to my left, hoping that I had not heard him.

“Nice knife, too bad it’s too small. THINK FAST!” I yell, launching it faster than he could blink.

“ACCCK, IT HURTS!” He screams. “PLEASE, SPARE ME! I PROMISE I’LL NEVER DO IT AGAIN”

“You can lie to the courts, the police, the people, but you can’t lie to me.” I speak with zero doubt. “You first killed to feel powerful, then you continued to kill after you got away with the first.”

“No, it is not true, I saved those children. They will not grow up disillusioned by the world, feel pain from hardship. Now, they are free and will only know happiness.” He declared with pride like I should applaud his crimes.

           I stare at this creature in human skin, astounded by what I just heard. Looking down at where the knife landed, four inches from his femoral artery, he would live. How hilarious, I missed, yet my job is to kill sinners like him; I believe in fair play, unlike those missing children, he will have a chance to fight for his life.

“I will give you a fighting chance, unlike you gave those children. Stand up, bandage your wound and we will fight to the death.” I toss him towards his worktable, breaking bottles of medicine with his impact.

           I am gone from his sight, but he knows I am still in the room, watching him scramble for cleaning supplies and stitches. He has done in ten minutes; fear is a great motivator for anyone when it comes to life-or-death situations. I appear at the center of the room, and make my presence known.

“Are you ready, Andy? I am done waiting for you.” My voice makes him jump as he turns to me.

“Five more minutes, please?” He pleads to me.

“No, I am not waiting. RAAUGH!” I swipe before he can register my words.

THWACK

“BLEURGH!” He flies into the wall, cracking part of it as he meets the floor in a pile, coughing and bleeding from his side.

CRASH

I am on him in seconds as he pulls himself up to trade hits with me. It is quite ironic, seeing killers fight me to survive, only to watch as no matter what they do, I stand again with my body healing. With their victory all but ashes on shattered hope, their last moments before I force them to relive the deaths of their victims. I break every piece of them before taking their lives, I am not proud of what I have become, a killer of killers.

However, my father and his followers must be destroyed, no matter what. Scoffing, I am reminded of an old quote I read back in college. It fits perfectly in this moment, realization hitting me like a truck.

“The road to hell is paved with good intentions.” I thought to myself; it had said the same thing. “Whatever be your reason, can you truly say that you’ll remain as you are now in the end?”

           The fighting has ceased, Andrew lay before me in a bleeding and broken heap as I place my palm on his head.

“Now you shall feel every second of pain you visited upon your victims and with each death, you will see your hubris for the lie that it always was.” My judgement washes over him, leaving him screaming and flailing around. “Farewell Andrew Spencer, agony and guilt will be the last you feel.”

“Die as you lived, alone and scared of the world.”

I walk towards the chained door in the corner, it takes no time to reach it. Breaking locks and tear off the door, a set of stairs leads down to an even dimmer lit room. I calmly troll down the steps, eyes looking everywhere for traps or accomplices hiding away.

CLACK

I still as a can clinks on the ground; the smell of antiseptic and old blood makes me gag. Shaking off the nausea, there is only one path, on my right, lining both sides of the room are cells; more chains rattle as whoever is being kept here moves away from the gates.

THUMP

I hear the sound of bodies bumping against wood as I shift back to my human form, turning the switch on the wall, brightening up the jail cells enough to see who else he is caught before tonight. Feeling more rage and murderous intent towards the Mad Doctor, I see the reason I never caught his scent. Before me are the shaking forms of 2 dozen kids looking at me, the key glistening in my hand like water in a desert to them.

• • •

submitted by @stone-97

Intriguing! Nice vigilante vibes, being a killer of killers.

#submission #stone 97 #life and times of star

[stone-97]

FNAF Book 2: A Shadow’s Rise

“Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you.”

― Friedrich Nietzsche

CHAPTER 1: Death and Regret

              “The soul is a living organism. And for any question as to the soul's Life we must appeal to Life-science. And what does the Life-science teach? That if I am to inherit Eternal Life, I must cultivate a correspondence with the Eternal.”

- Henry Drummond

Michael P.O.V.:

I never thought I would become something to fear, but here I am, in the ruins of Fredbear Diner, standing as something dark, then again, I cannot remember ever feeling human after destroying Ennard. Although Elizabeth and Mom were still in Circus Baby and Ballora, I knew it was not how they used to be, but whatever remained, merged with the animatronics’ AI.

Despite William saying that I was nothing but a failure and worthless, I was anything but those two things. It took a while, but I had proved him wrong, I graduated college with two degrees, Engineering, and Human Anatomy. As I kept my ear to the ground for any news on Afton. Turns out, the bastard had been looking for me all this time, could not accept the fact that I got away from him or that I moved on with my life instead of riddled with guilt.

I may have come back but my body was still injured while my soul was stuck elsewhere, but replacing my stomach and ribs was easy. My only regret was that my family suffered worse than immediate death. William being the one to orchestrate their deaths was no real surprise, he hated my existence, long before my siblings’ deaths. So, making MY family suffer before killing them isn’t really a stretch.

The surprise came from knowing how my family died; my wife's soul was shattered in two and my son locked away, his mind broken by torture. I hear their screams in my sleep; coming back from the dead is painful but being powerless to save what truly mattered, it can never be described.

Now I am alone, with nothing but a name, memories, and my vendetta. I hunt by night, for the corrupted souls of my brother, sister, and for the Mad Piper himself. Our last encounter was in upstate Utah, an abandoned warehouse was their dwelling, with an array of monitors and servers as one of his bodies.

William ran from me, leaving his followers paying their dues to the Reaper; I recall handing the corrupted souls to this mysterious being. I owe Spring Bonnie; it was all thanks to her that I could understand the riddles spoken by The Wall and negotiate with him.

The only catch was that I would be a form-shifting aberration, by day I walk among the rest as human and by night I hunt them as a biological Foxy animatronic wreathed in twisting shadows and cold, green-blue fire bleeding from my withered arm and eyes. I took to covering the arm in a black poncho, similar to a cloak draped over it.

My prey tonight was a wretched man obsessed with keeping children from growing up. His base was the Diner, perfect since it was marked for demolition, it reeked of copper, iron, and corpses. The insect was laughing as he continued sewing his recent kill, I faintly hear the sounds of crying and rattling chains from below. I decided that it was time to act, no more skulking around the dark. He had taken his last victim this night, there will not be anything left to show he existed beyond this madman’s lab.

“Andrew Spencer, it is time for you to pay for your sins, I am the one that was sent to collect.” I speak, hollow and cold, making him whirl around with eyes wide in panic and fear.

“WHO ARE YOU, MONSTER!” He demands, bloody scalpel raised in my direction as a threat.

“I see no reason to answer to a dead man, your pleas will be unheard as I tear your soul from your broken corpse.” I proclaim with heavy steps till I stand in the lab doorway.

I stare him down before passing through the entrance, tattered cloak flapping with my advance. I stop a bit away from him, silence all around us as I let my declaration sink in. He grasps the situation quickly as he throws the knife at my eyes. I caught it between my fingers and weighed it in my hand before grasping it gently. I hear the killer breathing silently in panic as he hugged the wall to my left, hoping that I had not heard him.

“Nice knife, too bad it’s too small. THINK FAST!” I yell, launching it faster than he could blink.

“ACCCK, IT HURTS!” He screams. “PLEASE, SPARE ME! I PROMISE I’LL NEVER DO IT AGAIN”

“You can lie to the courts, the police, the people, but you can’t lie to me.” I speak with zero doubt. “You first killed to feel powerful, then you continued to kill after you got away with the first.”

“No, it is not true, I saved those children. They will not grow up disillusioned by the world, feel pain from hardship. Now, they are free and will only know happiness.” He declared with pride like I should applaud his crimes.

I stare at this creature in human skin, astounded by what I just heard. Looking down at where the knife landed, four inches from his femoral artery, he would live. How hilarious, I missed, yet my job is to kill sinners like him; I believe in fair play, unlike those missing children, he will have a chance to fight for his life.

“I will give you a fighting chance, unlike you gave those children. Stand up, bandage your wound and we will fight to the death.” I toss him towards his worktable, breaking bottles of medicine with his impact.

I am gone from his sight, but he knows I am still in the room, watching him scramble for cleaning supplies and stitches. He has done in ten minutes; fear is a great motivator for anyone when it comes to life-or-death situations. I appear at the center of the room, and make my presence known.

“Are you ready, Andy? I am done waiting for you.” My voice makes him jump as he turns to me.

“Five more minutes, please?” He pleads to me.

“No, I am not waiting. RAAUGH!” I swipe before he can register my words.

THWACK

“BLEURGH!” He flies into the wall, cracking part of it as he meets the floor in a pile, coughing and bleeding from his side.

CRASH

I am on him in seconds as he pulls himself up to trade hits with me. It is quite ironic, seeing killers fight me to survive, only to watch as no matter what they do, I stand again with my body healing. With their victory all but ashes on shattered hope, their last moments before I force them to relive the deaths of their victims. I break every piece of them before taking their lives, I am not proud of what I have become, a killer of killers.

However, my father and his followers must be destroyed, no matter what. Scoffing, I am reminded of an old quote I read back in college. It fits perfectly in this moment, realization hitting me like a truck.

“The road to hell is paved with good intentions.” I thought to myself; it had said the same thing. “Whatever be your reason, can you truly say that you’ll remain as you are now in the end?”

The fighting has ceased, Andrew lay before me in a bleeding and broken heap as I place my palm on his head.

“Now you shall feel every second of pain you visited upon your victims and with each death, you will see your hubris for the lie that it always was.” My judgement washes over him, leaving him screaming and flailing around. “Farewell Andrew Spencer, agony and guilt will be the last you feel.”

“Die as you lived, alone and scared of the world.”

I walk towards the chained door in the corner, it takes no time to reach it. Breaking locks and tear off the door, a set of stairs leads down to an even dimmer lit room. I calmly troll down the steps, eyes looking everywhere for traps or accomplices hiding away.

CLACK

I still as a can clinks on the ground; the smell of antiseptic and old blood makes me gag. Shaking off the nausea, there is only one path, on my right, lining both sides of the room are cells; more chains rattle as whoever is being kept here moves away from the gates.

THUMP

I hear the sound of bodies bumping against wood as I shift back to my human form, turning the switch on the wall, brightening up the jail cells enough to see who else he is caught before tonight. Feeling more rage and murderous intent towards the Mad Doctor, I see the reason I never caught his scent. Before me are the shaking forms of 2 dozen kids looking at me, the key glistening in my hand like water in a desert to them.

#fnaf au #withered foxy #michael afton #fnaf series #william afton #warframe #revenant #man in the wall

[emdotcom]

I've been quietly cooking summat that I've not mentioned to another soul. I have no plans to do much of anything with it, other than stew, so, here goes:

Tw for themes of ableism, lobotomy, child cruelty.

If you could have all the difficulties & strifes in life just snipped away, & get everything you've ever wanted for free, delivered on a silver platter, would you want that? If I told you that with a few simple operations, I could take everything you don't like about yourself -- your bad habits, disorders, the things that makes other people shun you, anything like that -- & just take it away, wouldn't you want that? No matter how much it costs?

The idea is that, in this little world I've set up, humanity has been able to nail down exact portions of the brain that cause all those foul, undesirable traits that make like harder for everybody, down to being able to just pluck them out. &, Better yet, we've been able to find the exact parts of the brain that give us those good traits that make you valued & desired & loved, enough that they could just... Stitch those in, in the place of all those nasty things they just cut out.

We know these things, down to an exact science. But we don't know how to replicate them.

No matter what you do, no matter how perfectly you recreate & integrate, there is some intangible spark that prevents artificial brain matter from working as intended. So, of course, you'd need a brave volunteer for those shiny new good traits -- a donor.

For the amount of money you get for more desirable traits, there's always going to be somebody willing to sell these things away. Of course, wouldn't it be more efficient to just cultivate it?

Did you know children pick up new information far faster than adults do? There's theories on why, a sort of necessity that demands you pick things up quickly, so you can survive. Here, though, it serves our purposes just fine. They've very malleable -- you can mold kids into honor students, then just clip that knowledge out of their head & into the skull of the highest bidder. What happens to the kid? Well, they've just lost a considerable amount of brain matter that you're certainly not replacing, so you just... Send them back to school again, have them develop a new skill you can take, again & again, until there's nothing left to steal away.

That's the setting. A sort of boarding school used to cultivate young minds, marketed as a home for troubled & abandoned kids to be turned out into proper adults, but really just a slaughter house full of spare parts.

I've got ideas, yeah, mostly about a teacher -- a machine designed to turn out as many excellent students as fast as possible, but one that's cottoned on to the fact that they're slowly sending these kids to their doom. They work hard to teach & parent these kids & make them as good as can be, & then the kids disappear for a little while. When they come back, they're missing a few pieces, & all the work they & that child just put in has been robbed away, leaving a broken & upset child behind. &, Still, they have to teach -- you can't go against your basic programming. If you teach too many too well, you'll lose them, & if you teach too few you go in for a recalibration, & then you'll lose pieces of yourself. You're trying to work around your limitations, all the fail-safes etched into every line of code to just remember what is happening & try to help as much as you can without being noticed, but it's never going to be enough. You have a limited memory, when it comes to your students -- when you meet a new one, the oldest entry gets deleted. You're etching down faces & names onto scraps of paper, what their favorite colors were, how fussy they were when it was time to sleep, anything you can remember so that this little bit can't be taken away, too, but you come back to this paper & you don't know any of these kids. Even though it's all your hand writing, you've never seen any of them before.

I have idea about a student, a new one, one that notices how often their classmates have "episodes" & come back different. One that notices their teacher acting strangely.

No idea what I'll do with this, though.

#gale chatter #emile if you can see this. hope ur proud i finally did a lil thing #yea i can concept some arts abt this. would u like to guess what this is an au of. u will literally never guess

[milliedazzledust]

In Loving Memory (Bucky Barnes imagine)

Request: @missroro the reader is steve twin and she married to bucky after the blip, she had enough of the 'new captain america' thing shes really mad, so when walker and his friend start talking about joining forces she snap like she pull out a gun and pointing right at them, also sam ofc dont forget about sam. Sam trying to stop her while bucky "nah let her do her fun"

Words: 2021

Warning: !!TFATWS SPOILER!! without context - violence

A/N: wrote this today, it basically follows the events of ep3 of fatws but without context. I have a couple of exams this week so I won't be able to post until next saturday. Until then, enjoy

"You shouldn’t have gave him the shield"

Sam frowned, turning back to look at Bucky.

"I didn’t gave him the shield" He defended himself, making a point.

"Well, Steve definitely didn’t" Y/N ironically answered back.

He gave her a pointed stare. They had had this conversation countless times and Y/N never missed a chance to remind him of what she thought was a huge mistake.

"You are the reason this is happening, Sam. You chose to take on my brother’s legacy and threw it out the window"

The man didn’t reply and pursed his lips. He knew she didn’t mean any of her harsh words, she was angry and still mourning. If taking it out on him could make her feel better, he would let her.

"Y/N, stop" Bucky took a step toward his wife, clasping her hand in his metal one. He had hoped the physical contact would be enough to calm her down.

"He abandoned me, Sam" She continued, her voice filled with emotions. "He was gone and all I had left was memories. I chose this life for him, I fought with him, I believed in everything he represented. I looked up to him, to Captain America. And today, even those memories are gone, taken by the same government you and I were up against, mocked by clowns pretending to be heroes, all because you gave up"

The Falcon closed his eyes and dropped his head. She couldn’t see his point of view, or share his opinions when her judgment was clouded by so much pain. He wished she could understand the dilemma, the duality that represented the shield for him.

"Y/N, please, that’s enough" Bucky whispered next to her ear.

She turned her head toward him and as usual, his heart broke when he saw the torment in her eyes. She didn’t need to speak, she was an open book to him. They both had lost so much and yet were all each other had left. They were collateral damage, their own team against a world that wasn’t theirs anymore. She silently nodded, assuring him she was fine. Sam watched Bucky kissing her forehead and he furrowed his brow. He would never admit it but he was glad they had each other, because no one could carry that much pain alone without crumbling apart.

Before any of them could add anything, soldiers in blue and red erupted in the room, bursting through the door of the apartment where they were hiding in Latvia. Bucky instinctively grabbed Y/N and forced her body to move behind his. The two man stood in front of them, tall and proud, a smug smile on their lips.

"Alright, that’s it, your time is up" The man calling himself Captain America announced, the shield in one hand, the other pointing at the three avengers. "Tell me where Zemo is"

"We know you’re hiding him" His sidekick added.

"I’m ordering you to turn him over"

Sam eyed them up and down.

"Let’s be clear, the only thing you’re running here is your mouth" The Falcon firmly replied, crossing his arms.

"I gave you a chance to work with us" He mentioned.

" ‘For us’ is the correct way to put it, tough guy. And we said no." Y/N reminded him, her face showing how much she was annoyed.

"You’re obviously in over your head so I suggest you turn back and go" Sam argued.

"You really want this conversation to go there ?" The hero threatened.

Bucky straightened up when he felt Y/N tensing. He knew she was already on the verge of snapping. One wrong word from the man she hated and this could go down to hell.

"Should I put down the shield ?" He continued to challenge Sam. "Make it fair?"

The woman groaned and when John Walker dropped his weapon, without a second thought, she grabbed the nearest knife and threw it right at his face. The man had barely enough time to move back and his eyes rose in surprise when the blade stuck itself into the wall with force.

"Sorry, it slipped" She ironically explained, shrugging.

"You don’t want to play this game with me" He tried to intimidate her, tilting his head to the side.

She smiled, pleased he was giving her the opportunity to smack his face. Bucky clenched his fists when he saw her walking in front of Walker. Without tearing her eyes away from his, she seized her knife and pulled it out of the wall with a sharp movement.

"I think someone should teach you a lesson, Walker" She told him in a low tone.

"Are you offering ?" He challenged her.

"Don’t tempt me"

"You’re lucky you’re his sister" He grinned. "But don’t push it. This Captain America is not as lenient as the previous was"

Bucky swore under his breath. It was too late now. And just as Sam looked at him with concern, Y/N threw her fist in a curved punch at the soldier. He used his forearm to counter the blow, but she was faster and had far more experience. Using the momentum, her foot rose up and kicked him in the face. The man was thrown back, shaking his head in confusion.

"We should do something" Sam advised the former assassin.

"No. Let her have her fun" He crossed his arms, harboring a small smirk.

The soldier tried to hit her back, but even when he took the shield she blocked his attack. His sidekick soon joined the fight and distracted her for a second, just enough time for Walker to punch her. Immediately, she felt the taste of blood in her mouth, but no pain. She was passed that, far too pissed to feel anything.

Another blow on her chest send her to the ground and Hoskins hold her down while his friend was about to hit her with her brother’s shield. He raised it in the air, with every intention of beating her, but a strong metal hand stopped him in his movement. A very infuriated Bucky stood before him, his blue eyes darkening with anger. He firmly took the weapon, knocked Hoskins out with it and threw it across the room.

"If you wanted to make it fair, you shouldn’t have chosen to hit my wife" His tone was terrifying.

Walker didn’t seem as confident anymore. Bucky looked imposing, brute force ready to strike. His metal arm clenched in a fist and, without warning, it collided with the soldier’s jaw, sending him a few feet away. He strode to the man on the ground and grabbed him by the collar of his uniform

"This is all easy for you, isn’t it ?" Walker spoke with venom, staring at Bucky. "All that serum running through your veins"

With a swift movement, Y/N took the shield and launched it with power right on the soldier’s chest. The blow was so violent his body crashed into a door before landing on the floor. She was furious by his statement and he could see it with every step she made toward him. She grabbed the gun attached to her thigh and pointed it at his face.

"Lesson number one: learn when to shut up. Especially when you don't know what you're talking about" She was fuming but had not intention on killing the man, despite the sheer desire to do so.

She didn’t realize Sam was next to her until she saw his hand lowering her gun.

"This isn’t what Steve would want." He calmly expressed. "Remember, there’s always another way"

Her lips quivered and she closed her eyes, remembering how many times her brother had told her that. She let him take the weapon and looked up at him. The conviction and kindness in his stare were enough. He didn’t have to say anything. Every words she needed to hear, he spoke them in silence.

She turned back to Bucky and he cupped her face, inspecting the bruise on her skin. He seemed ready to go back and beat the man down. Y/N softly smiled and clasped her hands around his wrists. He stroke her cheek and pulled her toward him before carefully kissing her lips.

"Good ?" He asked in a soft voice he only used with her.

"Good"

It was something between them, a single word they spoke every time they fought. Wherever they were, whomever they were up against, if one of them asked, the other had to answer. It was their intimate way to always know they were alright.

Later that day, Sam and Bucky had decided to go talk to the leader of the Flag Smasher, Karli Morgenthau, while Y/N had been charged to follow Walker and Hoskins. As soon as she had seen they were going after the young super soldier, she had warned her friends about the danger. She knew enough about the new Captain to guess he had no intention on arresting Karli. He wanted to make justice himself. She pitied his sidekick. He seemed like a decent man with good ideas struggling to find virtue on the wrong side of the battle. He was Walker’s collateral damage.

She wondered what Steve would think of all that if he could see them fighting both super soldiers and Captain America. He never cared for the star and stripes, never used his shield to harm. His heart was with the people he defended. Even when it had been against Tony, he pursued what he believed was best. Was that what Walker was trying to do ? She couldn’t know. But she was sure of one thing, the man had nothing in common with Steve. Pride, ego and selfishness were never traits anyone would have used to describe her brother. She couldn’t bear for him to be replaced, especially to a man that didn’t share his morals or any of his opinions. The shield he was carrying wasn’t just a weapon, it was her brother’s symbol of hope, a symbol he had fought so hard to forge. The man made the uniform, not the other way around. That’s what Walker didn’t get. Up until that point, people had not been following Captain America, they had been following Steve Rogers.

Standing in that public square, she didn’t realize she was crying until she felt Bucky entwined his fingers with hers. She couldn’t avert her eyes from the horrific scenery. Powerlessly, she watched a man she didn’t know being executed. His opponent was merciless, striking with determination and rage, using the only piece of memory she had left of her brother to bring terror and death. Frozen on the spot in the middle of the crowd, she could see the fear in all those strangers eyes and it felt like grief coming in waves, a shard in her guts that would never leave. It felt like this particular moment was choking the breath out of her body, short circuiting her mind. What was whole once completely shattered and she couldn’t find the strength to be angry anymore. All her brother had built had fallen apart in the split of a second and all the world had left was a bloodied image of his symbol of hope. A symbol that was no more.

“Sam...” She called him, almost like a scared child.

“I know...”

Both men looked worried. Y/N felt Bucky’s hand trembling and she squeezed him harder. She could easily guess how he felt. Steve had saved both of them, he had gave them a purpose, had allowed the former assassin to be more than the weapon Hydra had made of him. Pieces by pieces, he had brought their family back together. And as they both stood there, witnessing the horrifying end of his legacy, Bucky realized everything his bestfriend had fought for was turning into dust.

"I’m sorry" Y/N whispered to Sam. "But there’s no other way now"

Her husband dropped his head, trying to regain a sense of control over his emotions. Wordlessly agreeing with her, he turned to their friend.

“He has to be stopped”

Tags: @taina-eny

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x female reader #bucky x reader #the winter soldier #the winter soldier imagine #the winter soldier imagines #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier fanfiction #winter soldier #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier imagine #winter soldier imagines #winter soldier fanfiction #tfatws #fatws #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #sam wilson

[mellowswriting]

2, 3, & 48 with the least expected choice: JAVI BB! 😭 Please I just starve for domestic!Javi a lot

Second Chance 

pairing || Javier Peña x F!Reader

summary ||  Javier comes back to the U.S after taking down Escobar to find you - and what he finds changes his life forever.

word count || 4,824

warnings || angst with a happy ending, soft dad Javi, allusions to sex

a/n || This was so interesting to write, because Javier as a dad??? Yes please! Also because I’m so used to writing mainly fluff that angst can get a little tricky for me. Thank you for this little writing challenge, anon!

Main Masterlist  |  Join the taglist!

Two years. It had been nearly two years since Javier had seen you - correction, since he had watched you walk out with tears in your eyes and did nothing to stop you like a fool. It was one of his biggest regrets, and that was saying something coming from a man whose job required him to make hard and fast decisions that often left people dead. All he could do was hope and fucking pray that you wouldn’t slam the door in his face.

Even if he did deserve it.

A drive that typically would’ve taken only an hour from the airport took nearly double that, Javier’s hands shaking and stomach turning the entire time. He should’ve done this sooner, should’ve followed you out that door or hopped onto a plane and met you back in the States. Nothing felt right without you, the world around him slightly distorted by your absence. An absence that was entirely his fault.

He shouldn’t have snapped at you. All you had wanted from him was the promise that he would try to play it safer. It was a simple reassurance that he could have given you if he hadn’t been such a moron and snapped at you that if you couldn’t handle the realities of his job, you had no business sticking around. You were scared, worried for him after one of his harebrained plans nearly got his head blown off.

And all Javier had done was make you feel stupid for caring about him. It didn’t help that he did nothing to try to fix it the next day; he was embarrassed, ashamed of his immaturity. And you left because of it. He hated himself for it. He would only hate himself more if he didn’t go to you now that he had taken down Escobar. Better late than never, right? He was back in the states and could’ve gone anywhere, done anything, especially now that he was so well known for his hard work in Colombia. Instead, he used that new status to find out where you ended up and scribbled your address onto a crumpled piece of paper.

It was a nice house. The kind he always hoped you would get, picturesque with the neatly trimmed front yard and picket fence. The sun had just risen enough to tint the sky by the time he pulled up and killed the engine, his millionth cigarette of the day perched between his fingers. You were home. Tiny movements that he could see from the windows and the car parked in your driveway told him that much.

The love of his life was right there. Less than twenty yards away, practically nothing separating the two of you after so long. That realization had Javier finally shoving the car door open and stepping out - and damn near getting himself run over in the process. In his haste, his excitement, he didn’t even glance around himself enough to see the car approaching and… pulling into your driveway?

A spike of fear shot through him. Please, fuck, don’t let that be a man. Don’t let that be some man who is going to walk through the door and kiss your cheek as you welcome him home from work and…

No. A woman, brunette. Launching herself out of the car and practically skipping up to the door. She didn’t bother knocking, just walked right in and closed the door behind her. Something familiar about her tickled the back of Javier’s brain, the hazy memory of a polaroid of her next to you wearing matching goofy grins. Ah, your sister. Amelia, if he remembered correctly.

Javier hesitated at her appearance. He didn’t want to interrupt something. God knows you were already going to be pissed enough at him. So he leaned against his door and puffed on that cigarette like it was his only lifeline, ready to wait for however long it took.

Just his luck that he wouldn’t have to wait long. The door reopened not fifteen minutes later and the two of you both appeared on the porch and holy fuck, Javier’s heart was ready to fly out of his chest just at the sight of your smile as you chatted with your sister. He watched, enraptured, that damn cigarette damn near falling from his lips, his heart leaping at the way your head tilted back with a big laugh. God, he missed that sound.

You turned and poked your head back into the doorway and called something that he couldn’t hear, pausing before rolling your eyes and walking back inside. You appeared again a second later with -

A kid? Propped on your hip with your arm propped under them with ease.

Javier’s heart dropped. Of course. He should’ve known that someone would have scooped you up the second you returned home. If he hadn’t have been such a fucking idiot, that could have been him building a home with you and fuck, he had to leave. He needed to get in his car and fucking go before you -

“Javier?”

It had been so long since he heard you say his name. Even when it was layered with surprise, his name never sounded better than when it was falling from your lips. Javier froze with his hand on the handle. He could hear your sister’s ill attempt at whispering, the harshness of “Wait, the Javier? The one that -” that you cut off before she could finish.

Javier turned, his heart flying in his chest, and started walking up to the gate. The shake in his hands was undeniable when he lifted the latch. Your mouth hung open, chest rising and falling rapidly with your almost frantic breathing, the little girl perched on your hip seeming confused. She was yours, that much was obvious. Her nose, her lips - that little girl was your daughter.

Something in you snapped back into place, your mouth closed and a fake smile quickly replaced it as you turned your softening gaze to your little girl. “Okay, you have fun with Aunt Amelia, okay? Mommy loves you.”

Javier watched the exchange with a heavy heart, watched as your daughter gave you the tiniest kiss on your cheek with a small ‘pop’ of her lips, watched as your sister took her and gave him a wide berth as she went to strap her into the carseat in her car. The moment she was out of your sight, the warmth from your eyes fell away and regarded him with something colder, something angry and sad.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You asked.

“It’s done.” He mumbled, his fists clenching at his sides. “All of the bullshit with Escobar, it’s over.”

“Yeah, I know.” You scoffed at the surprised look he gave you. “What, you think I didn’t keep track of you after I left? Just because I wasn’t around doesn’t mean I stopped caring about whether you lived or died. That doesn’t answer my question.”

“I never should have let you leave. I… I shouldn’t have driven you away to begin with.” Shame flooded him for the millionth time at the flash of hurt in your eyes before you looked away from him, your eyes falling to the ground. “The kid… uh, congratulations I mean. I didn’t know you started a family, I never would’ve shown up like this. I’m not a homewrecker.”

“The kid?” You repeated, your voice incredulous, and Javier cringed. Yeah, not the most eloquent way to put it, but he was never good with words.

“Yeah, uh, she’s a cute kid. You and your… husband or whatever, you got lucky.” Every word that fell from his lips, he regretted. They were true, sure, but holy hell did it sound so awkward coming from him.

“The kid.” You scoffed again, a sound he hadn’t realized he missed so much. You finally locked eyes with him, somehow even more guarded than before. “She’s yours.”

Javier blinked. The words didn’t compute, his brain falling blank at the very thought that he… no, no fucking way. He took a half step back, his mouth falling open. He watched you watch him, watched the way your eyes studied his every movement. Air rushed in and out of his chest rapidly, black spots blinked at the edges of his vision, and suddenly his ass was hitting the hard stone of your porch.

He barely heard the rough, concerned way you said “Shit, Javi!”, barely noticed you disappear from his side. No, he couldn’t believe it, couldn’t accept that. There was no way in hell that his stupid fucking mistake deprived him of this, of his family. Of watching you bring his child into the world and watching her grow, teaching her how to walk on unsteady feet and picking her up when she cried. Of you teaching him how to gently pull her pretty brown hair into the little sprigs of pigtails, just like she wore when he caught a glance of her before she was whisked away.

The cold, wet feeling of a cloth dragging across his forehead made his eyes refocus and there you were. Your eyes, once cold and hesitant now tinged with concern as you gently drug a washcloth down each of his cheeks, trying to pull him out of his panicked state. You were murmuring something to him, something he couldn’t hear over the blood rushing in his ears. Javier’s hand grasped at yours, pressing it against his cheek tightly.

“Name.” He rasped. “What’s her name?”

You paused, a small smile perking up the corners of your lips. “Elianna. We call her Ellie.”

Ellie.

Javier had a daughter.

“I have a daughter?” Javier needed to hear you say it again.

“You have a daughter.” You nodded and pulled your hand away from his cheek, much to Javier’s disappointment. He missed your touch. You patted him hard on the shoulder before hauling him up. “Come on, we have a lot to talk about. Might as well do it on the couch where it’s comfortable.”

The inside of your home was just as picturesque as the outside, but in a completely different way. Colorful toys were strewn about the living room, a few soft baby blankets crumpled on the couch. It was comfortable, lived-in. Happy. Javier sat heavily on the couch, mind almost on autopilot as he gently touched the blanket next to him, his fingers barely grazing the fabric like he was worried his touch would somehow taint it.

You handed him a cold bottle of water that he accepted graciously and sipped as you sat next to him, a foot-wide war zone of space between you that felt like a stab to his heart. If only he hadn’t fucked everything up. You would be curled up right against him, your head on his chest as the two of you watched the little girl you created together babble over her toys.

“Tell me about her?” Javier asked tentatively, his voice uncharacteristically small.

“What do you want to know?” The hesitance in your voice made him feel even worse.

“Anything. Everything.”

And you did. Javier watched and listened, enraptured as you gushed about little Ellie. At nearly fifteen months old, she was damn near running and constantly getting into everything. She was curious and bright and laughed like she couldn’t breathe when you would roll around on the floor and play with her. Just the sight of the happiness and light in your eyes when you retold the first time you heard her say ‘mama’ made pride swell in his chest.

The intense urge to have her here with him pulled at him, but he knew better than to ask. You were already indulging him by bringing him into your home and answering his questions. Hell, he was lucky you told him to begin with. He could feel the intensity of your gaze on his face as he tried to absorb all of the information that was dumped on him. Silence filled the living room when you trailed off, a few heavy moments where he didn’t know what to say.

“I know you have questions, Javier.” You said, your words slow and deliberate. Clipped, like you were terrified he was going to disappear once again.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Javier whispered.

“Well, I didn’t know I was pregnant when I left.” You began with a sigh. “I thought that the nausea and the missed period were from stress, because god knows I was wrecked. I found out a few weeks after I got back to the U.S and… I just didn’t see the point to tell you.”

“Didn’t see the point? Of telling me you were having my child?” His voice rose with his anger, his frustration and he watched as those walls slammed down, your vulnerability hardening in less than a second. He took a deep breath before continuing, trying his damnedest to soften his voice. “Do you really think so little of me?”

“Are you kidding me, Javier? You had just told me to leave. Was I supposed to think it would change anything?” You deflated into the cushions slightly and the sight of the exhaustion and pain in your eyes made some of his anger fall away. You rubbed a hand down your face. “Was I supposed to hop back on a plane back to Colombia? Put myself and my baby in danger? Or maybe I should have just called you. ‘Hey, Javier, I know you just told me to get out of your life, but surprise! I’m carrying your child!’ How would that have gone over?”

“But after? How could you not…” Javier choked up, unable to finish his sentence. You were right, he knew that. But he was grieving the loss of everything he had missed out on. He couldn’t blame you, not really. It was an impossible situation.

“I wanted to. There were these moments that… it took everything in me not to call you and beg you to come to me like some pathetic little…” You trailed off with a shake of your head, your voice cracking. “But I couldn’t. The closer you got to catching Escobar, I just… I couldn’t pull you away from the fight when you were so close to winning. The past few weeks, though? God, I almost called you at least a dozen times. The second I heard about it, I wanted you here, but I was so… so scared, Javi.”

And there it was. Javier’s heart snapped in half. He broke your heart and you managed to still prioritize his career, his fight against Escobar, while you brought his child into the world and shouldered that responsibility on your own. He cleared his throat harshly and squeezed his eyes shut, desperately trying to hold back those traitorous tears that threatened to fall.

“You don’t have to be scared. If you’ll have me, I swear to god, you will never do this alone again.” Javier whispered, his eyes still closed. Debilitating fear kept him from looking at you, afraid to see the rejection on your face. “I want to be here, I want this. I want my family.”

“Do you mean that?” Your voice trembled with disbelief.

“Of course I do, hermosa.” He insisted. “Please, give me the chance to show you.”

The small, relieved sigh that came from you made something tight ease in his chest and Javier hesitantly brought you into his arms. You relaxed into his side with your head propped on his shoulder, the both of you taking refuge in the familiarity of the touch that was missed for so long. He felt you look up at him and met your eyes, hoping you could see his sincerity. Words had a tendency to fail him but he still had his actions. He absentmindedly licked his lips before asking, “Can I kiss you?”

You smiled at him, a small smile that was still a bit sad, but a smile nonetheless, and nodded. “I've missed your kisses. I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” He confessed and finally kissed you. After two years, Javier felt the softness of your lips against his and finally felt like he was home.

----------

Javier’s knee bounced rapidly as he sat on your couch hours later, his nerves bounding untethered and desperate for any outlet. Just on the outside on the porch, you had stepped out to greet Amelia, who had brought Ellie home.

His daughter was on the other side of the door and he was about to meet her, for real this time. Excitement and fear warred with each other, neither able to win out over the other in their rising volume. Excitement at getting to hold her, maybe even make her smile. Fear over the possibility of hurting her or being too rough - he didn’t have much experience with babies, after all.

The door pushed open and he heard you call his name softly. “Can you grab these bags for me?”

He was on his feet in an instant, glad to be of help and already jumping at the chance to start proving himself to be a good father. A mess of brown curls poked out from the baby blanket you had draped over your chest where Ellie was apparently still fast asleep, distracting him slightly as he grabbed the bags from Amelia. She… did not look too happy to see him. The hardness in her glare told him something that didn’t need to be vocalized: if he hurt you or Elllie, his body would never be found.

Javier nodded slightly at her. He couldn’t blame your sister. If he were in her position, there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that he would be breaking noses. At your request, he set the bags on the kitchen table before walking back to you - and the sight of you swaying in the middle of the living room with Ellie knocked out against you, your cheek propped against the top of her head, took his breath away. The smile you gave him brought him closer, his hand settling on Ellie’s back softly as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Do you want to hold her?”

It took a moment of maneuvering, but the second you settled Ellie against him chest-to-chest, his entire world came into focus. Her cheek pressed against his chest just so, making her mouth form the tiniest little ‘o’ that he had ever seen. She was so calm, sleeping so deeply, and Javier couldn’t fucking believe his luck. How could he have had any part in creating something so perfect?

He had to sit down. He didn’t trust himself to hold her with unskilled hands while standing. She harrumphed slightly when he eased down onto the couch, but other than that, his little girl stayed off in her dreamworld, content and safe in her father’s arms for the first time.

“Just be careful not to touch the bottoms of her feet even a little bit, it wakes her up every time. She’s just like you with that.” You said, your voice lowered as you sat next to him much closer than before. He preened under the idea that any part of him was reflected in Ellie, even something so small and silly.

“She’s so warm. Is that normal?” Javi asked. He hoped she didn’t have a fever, he knew that a fever could really hurt a baby even with his limited knowledge. You reached out to gently feel her forehead and cheek, smiling after a moment.

“No, she's just a little furnace.” You settled against the back of the couch with a content smile. God, this just felt so right. Having you so close and smiling, having his daughter asleep and safe against him. He could feel the pieces snapping together, could feel himself becoming whole. “Yet another thing she has in common with you.”

“What else?” Javier whispered, desperate to hear everything.

“Hmm, let’s see. You have the same grumpy face.” You laugh when he glanced up at you, his eyebrows ticked together and lips pursed slightly. “Mhmm, that’s the one. Plus she hates carrots. Acts like I’ve personally offended her if I even offer them.”

“That’s because carrots are fucking disgusting.” Javi grumbles goodnaturedly as he gently rubs Ellie’s back. She’s so small, such a tiny, delicate little creature, and he can’t believe it. Any of it. You let him in after everything, took him in and introduced him to an entirely new world of possibility, one where if he was smart and did right by his two little ladies, he would get the life he always dreamed of.

Your fingers brushed an errant lock of hair from his face and Javi sighed, his eyes falling closed as he leaned into the soft touch that he missed so much. He hummed happily, practically purring like a pleased cat, when your fingers buried further in his hair and massaged over his scalp. Heaven. He was in heaven.

A gentle stirring against his chest made Javier glance down at Ellie and that first glimpse of her big brown eyes only confirmed what he already felt deep in his soul - this little girl was his everything. It was the most basic, simple thing he had ever felt, no question to be had about any of it.

Ellie wiggled against him, trying to get herself upright, and Javier immediately held her under her arms to sit her on his thigh. She looked inquisitively up at him from his lap, glancing over at you to confirm that you were nearby before staring at him as if he was the most interesting thing he has ever seen. Her little hand reached up to tug at his mustache, giving him a toothy grin at the way he laughed.

There were tears in his eyes and he couldn’t even deny them, couldn’t pretend they weren’t there. Javier could see them mirrored in your eyes as you watched Ellie stand in her father’s lap and try to balance herself with her hands on his shoulders.

You cleared your throat. “She’s about to start bouncing.”

“What? Whoa!” Javier exclaimed at the sudden feeling of what seemed like Ellie falling in his lap, his hands rushing for a firmer grip only for her to pop right back up and do it all over again. All three of you cracked up, your melodic laughter mixing with Ellie’s high giggling in the most beautiful way.

That night Javier got to cut up his daughter's food and help spoon bites into her mouth, sat at the table with Ellie and the love of his life, eating dinner like a family. He could picture this for the rest of his life. Eating breakfast and dinner together. Kissing the both of you goodbye in the morning and returning to his daughter running down the hall to wrap him in a hug. Chasing Ellie around a park and helping her down slides and pushing her on the swings.

This was his second chance, and he was going to do it right. God help him, he was not going to miss out on anything else. So when he saw the hesitance in your eyes that night after putting Ellie to bed, Javier settled himself on the couch with nothing but a gentle kiss to your forehead. There was no reason to push you. He wanted you to be comfortable, he owed you that much.

A week went by like that. Javier would rise in the morning to the sounds of you coming downstairs with Ellie on your hip and stretch, realigning his spine and pulling the tension from his sore back. He offered small pieces of affection and grinned every time they were accepted - a small peck on the lips here, his arm raised for you to curl closer on the couch there. Little Elianna was all too happy to join in on those little couch cuddle sessions, too, clambering into his lap or yours and snuggling close.

It seemed like the more Ellie warmed up to him, the more you did as well. Javi caught those small smiles when you watched him help ease his little girl to sleep for a nap. The more he proved himself to be a good father, the more comfortable you were letting him in, and it felt like progress. You laughed openly at his stupid jokes, reached out for him for affection of your own volition - kisses over coffee, holding hands as he pushed Ellie in the stroller - and it felt so good.

Javier fluffed up a pillow before tossing it against the arm of the couch, but before he could collapse his exhausted body into the cushions, he felt your hand curl around his bicep. The look in your eyes was almost afraid and worry clenched his stomach, but before he could spiral, you pulled him close and leaned up to kiss him.

A surprised sound hummed against your lips but Javi quickly regained himself to kiss you back. There was something softer about the way your lips pressed against his, something that had been absent from the quick, nearly chaste kisses you shared since he returned. This time you parted your lips and licked along the curve of his bottom lip, your hand coming up to press against his jaw and pull him even closer.

“You aren’t sleeping on that couch anymore.” You whispered against his lips.

“Oh, thank fuck.” Javi grumbled as he pressed even closer and kissed you again and again, slowly guiding you back to your bedroom.

He woke up the next morning with his bare chest against your back, his face buried in your hair, and he didn’t think life could get any better. His arms tightened around you as he gently rubbed up and down your side, the soft touch easing you out of sleep. The way you groaned made him smile; it was a sound he missed, even if it though was grumpy. You rolled over in his embrace and wrapped your arms around his neck to drag him over you, smiling sleepily at him before kissing him.

“My thighs are fucking aching, Javier.” You grumbled against him as you pressed a line of kisses along his jaw and down his neck.

He shivered at the feeling of your lips against his sensitive skin. “Mm, yeah, and you love it.”

You giggled in that way that made his stomach flip. “Fair enough.”

The door pushed open suddenly, almost hard enough to crack against the wall, and Ellie appeared on your side of the bed, her arms raised as she waited impatiently to be picked up. Javier happily pulled her up onto the bed. Scratch his earlier assumption - now his life couldn’t get any better. He watched Ellie jump and tumble around the sheets with happy squeals and that’s when he heard it. At first, he thought maybe he was hearing things until he saw the way your mouth fell open into a big grin, your eyes flitting back and forth between father and daughter.

“Papaaaa!” Ellie called out, her hands opening and closing rapidly, reaching for him from the other side of the bed. She kept saying it, repeating the two syllables over and over until it all bled into one long call for her dad.

Javier pulled her into his arms and squished her to his chest tightly, his eyes on you as his heart fluttered high in his chest. He couldn’t find the words, his voice choked out by his overwhelming love for the little family he had. He watched as you shuffled forward to kneel next to him and kiss the top of Ellie’s head, then his lips, pride shimmering in your eyes.

“Marry me.” Javier said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your jaw dropped. “Javi… you don’t have to do this. I - I don’t want you to feel obligated.”

“Are you kidding me? I want to grow old with you, have kids with you, even have a fucking white picket fence.” It was as if the faucet was turned on and there was no stopping the words he so desperately wanted to say. “None of this is out of obligation, hermosa. I want you to be my wife.”

“Yes.” There were tears in your eyes as you listened to the words you had longed to hear for far too long. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Javier surged forward and kissed you again, and in that bed with the precious little girl the two of you created together and the promise of being yours forever, he knew he was right where he belonged.

{Taglist}

@iamburdened @everyhowlmarksthedead @jenrebloggingfics @xserenax-13 @silverstarsandsuns @luminescentlily @peterpstuff @leonieb @lazybeeches @withasideofmeg @freeshavocadoooo @chattychell @ew-erin @viktorialukowski @cjbtw @agentshortstacc @a-skov @himbotroy

#javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena x y/n #javier pena fanfiction #narcos #narcos fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction

[mystery-salad]

On Sylvari and Wyld Hunts

Imagine spending your first months of life fully aware of yourself and family, learning of the world you're about to be born into, the teachings of those who raised your mother in turn are gently laid out by imagined replicas of themselves to any who sit and listen. It's a gentle way to be born, already knowing friendly faces and the simpler elements of life. And it's how a fair amount of sylvari enter Tyria, but it's not how all of them awaken is it?

Most titles are gained through professions or deeds performed. Titles are proof of prowess and who you are. Except one. Valiant is not an adjective among sylvari, it is a title for a select group given upon birth. You do not earn it and you can not obtain it later in life. It is the product of those who experienced something far more specific yet ephemeral in the Dream than most, a vision telling them of a great trial they must overcome or a goal they must achieve. A Wyld Hunt they will accomplish.

At least, a task they're expected to accomplish. These Hunts are depicted as anything is in the dream, images and interpretations. No one truly knows how the Dream works. How it chooses Valiants, how it lays everything out and seems to know events that have not yet passed so clearly. Even the Pale Tree herself may only guess and interpret the meanings by her own understandings and sometimes a clear answer may only appear when it is already passing. But it is an honor to be chosen for these Hunts nonetheless, marked by a title that shows the bravery and determination surely needed to follow your destiny.

An honor, to be chosen for a duty that protects those connected to the Dream and the world around it. An honor to save a brother with the shape of the moon grown into his shield. An honor to retrieve a truly unique embodiment of the Dream taken form as a stag. An honor to protect your siblings from a "knight" gone too far. An honor to fell a dragon...to cleanse an entire region full of magics you don't yet understand, with a history you can hardly comprehend...to fell a lich...to hide an unbearable truth from those who would trust you most...

Being a Valiant is an honor...right? That's what the Pale Tree told them.

A Hunt can be simple too of course. A Valiant founded the Wardens, a Valiant saved saplings from the Nightmare Court, a Valiant worked to repair damage done by the Inquest. These make the majority of Hunts recieved, not everyone has to save the world to be honored. But some do, don't they? Some need to spearhead the challenges no one would volunteer for, and in that fear of insurmountable danger can you blame those who wouldn't?

Being a Valiant is an honor, truly. It marks those who will step up to protect others until their dying breath. As they were told they would from the moment they were born. It's honored by the Grove that remembers the names of their fallen siblings, the Pale Tree who mourns her lost children, and by the sword now potentially wielded by the third Valiant to hold it. It's an honor, a necessary one. Who would step up to do these things otherwise, would anyone have proper warning without the Dream sending these premonitions and duties?

I have to wonder though. In these 30 years of living, did the sylvari misinterpret these dreams and warnings? How did Valiants come to be, by the decision of the firstborns each with their own Hunts realizing they'd need to handle these individually to cover them all? Why did no one, when the number of sylvari grew, think that perhaps...help was needed?

We see Trahearne, fresh back from Orr unused to interacting with those he was born knowing. We see Riannoc, abandoned by the only person who fought alongside him, a mere boy who was looking for adventure. In honesty that boy was likely older than Riannoc himself. We see Caithe weighed down by an unfinished Hunt, encouraged to train what she and the Pale Tree see as her replacement upon failure. Someone new to defeat Zhaitan in her place.

But is that really what's going on? Is the Dream's first repeated Hunt a fallacy of the Valiant who first carried it, or is it something that couldn't properly be shown without words? How do you teach someone that they need help when they've spent their life ready to go in alone?

There's a tragedy in the title of Valiant, a trail of bodies. Always alone. There's memorials for Valiants, each fighting for what they were born to do, alone. We hear of solely them, not their family or friends there with them. How many tragedies have come from Valiants we haven't even seen, who never came home? How many either died, or are ashamed of their failure in an insurmountable destiny? And how many could have been avoided, with a little less honor and a little more help?

We don't understand the Dream fully, it's hard to know if even the Pale Tree does. But I have to wonder if it's gentler than we see it, if it weeps for those who took its warnings as a weight to bear alone despite being born among friends.

#gw2 #guild wars 2 #guildwars2 #sylvari #gw2 sylvari #this ones more scattered than usual i think #sorry about that! #i have a lot of thoughts on the Dream and this honestly hardly touched what i actuallt intended lmao #but its still a starting point #which i can build off of more hopefully

[inviouswriting]

Family with you

Simeon x fem!reader

Some light smuts mixed in, but mostly fluff. Nothing graphic but enough to be cut.

If mc was already a mother when arriving to Devildom with their child. Needed something for myself too. 

TW: for reasoning behind the father figure not in as a result of them leaving, or uninterested. Abandoning mc. 

When you had first arrived at Devildom, the others were surprised to the child with you. Looking no older than between five to seven and hiding behind you. Lucifer was first to be taken aback by this exchange, and Diavolo immediately is dropping down to say hello.

Things progressed as they normally did afterwards. You had a stronger backbone when it came to threats and reminded the demons that you’ll have their horns and wings if anything happened to your child. 

You are single, and comforted your child as best as you can in a world full of demons. Diavolo set up a special way for your child to be cared for while you attended RAD. Spending time with Barbatos, to learn from him rather than be around all the chaos.

When you met Simeon, it was like something clicked between you two. Barbatos had brought your child to you at the end of the day, and Simeon is already enamored by them. His eyes shined at seeing them, and you feel trusting of the angel. Luke sees a potential friend, close in age, able to relax, though he felt more like an older brother figure. 

“Why not visit us a little more?” Simeon offers, and you take him up on the offer for any peace and quiet from House of Lamentations. A steady relationship bloomed between you and Simeon. Alot of the time spent guiding both Luke and your child in the right directions.

When Simeon asked how your child came to be, you felt your face hot at mentioning everything prior to Devildom, whether a joyful one or a unpleasant. Your child was someone you never regretted, even out of wedlock. 

Simeon understood the question he asked was personal, and remembered how it sounded from an angel.

“I mean genuinely, I am not asking you or putting you under a confessional. I am just curious, do you have anyone in your life... in the human world?” You see the dusting of pink on his face, and it clicks for you.

“No, they’re not in the picture anymore.” At your words Simeon takes your hands into his own, realizing he has a full chance. 

“Would you go on some dates with me then?” You are surprised at this, and want to say yes, but your eyes drift to your child playing a game with Luke. 

“I’d love to, but who would watch them?” You haven’t quite trusted the brothers, the closest one you feel you could is Beelzebub, and Asmodeus. 

“I think Barbatos can, he does enjoy both Luke and your child. I’m sure it would be fine to escape for an evening.” He offers solutions, and you agree to a date.  Agreeing was easier than the actual planning.

The night arrived, and you are dressed nicer than you normally are. Asmodeus being supportive and helped with an outfit that accents a Ristorante Six date. Simeon took care of arranging Luke and your child to be with Barbatos to learn how to cook some things together.

All that was needed was you, so Simeon met you at the restaurant. When he first saw you, he thought you really are an angel in disguise. Once inside, you talk about your life prior to Devildom, him learning more about the things you’ve gone through to raise this child, the hardships you’ve faced and he feels more protective of the idea of being with you.

Simeon walked with you for hours afterwards, you went back to House of Lamentations to drop off food you had leftovers from to Beelzebub. Promising him at least a dessert. The rest of the evening was spent walking through the city portion with Simeon. Getting to know him, his ranking as an angel, how he is raising Luke almost as a child of his own.

“More like grandson.” He amuses aloud, and you gently poke his sides. A moment is stilled between you and he takes his first kiss with you overlooking the Devildom.

After that first date, many more were had, till you are sure you are inseparable to Simeon as much as your child is so fond of Luke. 

When you became so entangled in your angels life and him in yours. You find yourself yearning for the love you two have made. Seeing him fall head over heels with your child, you laugh at moments when he is tender and gentle teaching them different ways. 

There have been only a few fights, only when it came to how you chose to raise your child. A little more firmness than Simeon letting Luke have free reign to learn from his own mistakes. You still had a role as a mother, and reminded Simeon that it works for him, but not for you in some aspects. You reminded your child of boundaries whenever Luke showed discomfort in sharing something.

After an evening of sharing insecurities with Simeon, explaining how hard it has been being alone. He runs his hands through your hair to remind you, you are not alone anymore. You question if he finds you attractive, the hour late, and you both knew Luke and your child sound asleep.

Simeon expresses his desires in you, even when you shyly bared yourself to him, he graciously kissed any marks left on your body from carrying those years ago. Didn’t care of your breasts were a little uneven, or what others have said as a “mom” body. Whether you were skinny or you never lost the weight, belly that sagged or didn’t look right to yourself.

“This is the result of the miracle you have brought into the world. And you are far more beautiful than you realize.” Simeon looks over every spot of you, blue eyes curious to the scars he may see, whether you had a rough pregnancy, or the scars left to save you both. He leaves no spot unkissed, letting you feel truly seen and loved more than the first time a man took interest only to leave later on.

Simeon sees the faint hurt in your eyes when it is reflected after kissing a spot that flared a memory. He replaces that memory with his own touch, reminding you that he loves you even as he loves you till you are clutching his bedsheets or pillows.

In the morning you feel wonderful, renewed and shy as those dark arms are wound around you possessively. Simeon not wanting to let go of you yet, your eyes being greeted to his face first thing, blue eyes meeting yours. 

You tease each other, tease long enough that Simeon coaxes you into a softer session with him in the shower together. Where he holds you up against the wall and any of those smut novels never compared to the things an angel has done to you.

When you broke the news to both Luke and your child about your relationship, Luke is surprised and almost unsure, questioning Simeon about whether he wants to risk his job as an angel. Simeon refutes this with.

“There are no risks involved, I’m in love.” You realize he could lose his wings.. you don’t want to make him choose. Your child on the other hand looks at Simeon with love in them. That an angel could literally be their father.

“Does this mean you’ll get married?” The thought crosses your mind with Simeon glancing to you, perhaps hopeful of your thoughts on the idea.

“It might mean that, if he wants to be.” You feel a squeeze in your hand from Simeon, and you catch his gaze. He is successful in the things he does, and he shines unique as an angel.

“I would love that. To have a family with you. Perhaps once we are in the human world?” Simeon asks, and you nod to make that a goal. 

The path to marriage was longer, going through so much, that the evening when Simeon actually asks you to marry him, you thought he was joking. It was on his birthday, and you had spent the day with him. Luke and your child set up a pleasant surprise for you both, getting Barbatos and Diavolo in on this unique exchange.

“Of course!” You are happy to no end and Simeon is relieved. The ceremony is held on the spot, as a more private exchange. The brothers agreed once you had chosen Simeon solely.

It isn’t until you were given a honeymoon to Diavolo’s private island that the need for your angel was truly awakened. Spending almost every day with him and night finding out just how much Simeon wanted you more than you realized. You wondered how much he held back from the first time you were together. 

Soon you settle into a routine with the new life with Simeon. That it surprised you when you found out you are pregnant again. Fear rises in you, as this was the scenario you had the first time. Perfectly happy, then it came crashing down when the other half didn’t want to be involved.

So you hide it from Simeon, for now. You wanted to wait before you told him, to see if your body could handle another. It isn’t until you are lying down fatigued that Simeon catches on. His fingers are tender as they touch your stomach to sense life, giving you a firm stare for not telling him sooner.

“My love, how long have you known?” He questions, he is already pressing his face to say hi to the life forming. 

“Only a few weeks... I wanted to be sure that this one will stay.” Simeon looks up smiling, the intensity in his eyes fades.

“My lamb... how could you keep this wonderful secret from me.” Your hands card through dark brown hair, bright blue eyes peek up more framed by dark skin. He is over the moon and nuzzles his face into your belly. 

You smile and feel a little guilty he found out this way. You wanted to tell him, and see him full of joy instead of concern. Though his happy expression keeps you from spoiling him too much. You learn him and his ways of showing love, but this side of him. 

You are amazed at how much he dotes and loves you. Seeing the blush on his face realizing all those sleepless nights resulted in a life that is of you and him. That this brings you two closer than ever.

When Simeon looks up he sees your eyes brimming with tears and he freaks wondering if he did something wrong.

“Please don’t leave me...” You plead him, and he remembers that years ago that a child is the reason your first doesn’t have a father. Whether by them leaving, vanishing, or expressing unwanted. He sees the pain return to your eyes, the wound that he had spent so many times trying to mend to heal your heart.

Simeon moves to sit with you and cups your face into his hands as he presses loving kiss after kiss.

“Never will leave you. Not now, not ever.” You tremble in sobs at the shock still going through you of the fear settling in, that it “could” happen. He could grow tired, just like before. When things got tough and they just left. 

Simeon sees the hurt still, and it takes coaxing from him to get you to curl up into his side. His colder hands pressed to your forehead as a nausea wave hits you and you let go of all your fears and tell him you are afraid he will leave you.

He assures you, he is there permanently, he won’t leave, not unless you chase him out yourself. And that breaks you of your spell, the fear of pushing a literal angel away overwhelms you and you raise up to kiss him like you haven’t before.

You still had hours before Luke and your child would be home, you spend the next few hours entangled together. You and Simeon on the floor of the house you call home. His hands going over every speck of you, and kissing away your worries. He is surprised when you take initiative to ride him, and your love making with the angel is truly felt through every nerve that you hold onto each other tight.

When you woke up much later, Simeon is next to you in the bed you share, just watching your face serenely. Foreheads pressed together.

“What time is it?” You question him, and start to raise to look at a clock and Simeon guides you to lie down.

“Almost time to make dinner. We still have time before they’re back. Let me spend this time with you?” You look at him and lay your head back down next to his. He seeks out your left hand to rub at your wedding band, while his other hand presses over your belly. He’s more loving here than what he did hours ago, touches you with such tenderness that you feel your heart thudding in your chest.

You indulge Simeon as he presses loving kisses and you both discuss the possible baby names. Simeon ever grateful you choose to be with him and love him.

#simeon fluff #shall we date simeon #simeon angel #simeon x reader #simeon #simeon smut #obey me simeon #simeon x fem!reader #mc is a parent #I tried to include body positivity as some have scars and things we find unpleasant with our bodies #I am also feeling super down lately so needed something to pour my feelings into.