#I was… a slightly odd child. but I know I’m not alone!

[thirsty-4-ghouls]

So, I have a sapphire sapphire pair of veilspun that had a hatchling with mismatched genes, I also went pretty crazy with the valentines day genes so I have two of each left in my vault. I need to breed change but

I'm planning on changing him

into this

#emma posts #flight rising #I named them ocean heart because I had a titanic phase as a child #I say phase but it lasted a few years #both the movie and the real life events #I was… a slightly odd child. but I know I’m not alone! #plenty of kids found the disaster interesting. not sure how many tried to recreate something like the movie scene with their siblings in the #pool. we didn’t do the whole door thing. but dramatically holding on to a floaty while creating waves? yes #i don’t think we recreated the romance with each other though. just the disaster and I acted like I was in a tragic romance as well #with some made up third person. not my brothers #we also did this thing where we tilted the pull out couch and pretend we were sliding on a tilted deck #…kids can be weird #obviously we all survived these fictional ordeals. but our parents did not #they weren’t also playing so they were just dead #we grew up on a farm so a majority of the time before frequent internet use it was just us and a cousin or two

[a-small-safe-place]

New Addition

Platonic!Yandere Hannibal Lecter and Will Graham w/ Child!Reader

You knocked on the door of the large house Hannibal had picked out for him and Will to live in. It was out of the way from the town, so it was odd to receive a knock. Luckily, it was Will that answered rather than Hannibal. The other kids in town said the men who lived in this house liked to kidnap badly behaving girls and boys and eat them up like the witch in Hansel and Gretel. But this man didn’t seem scary. He seemed nice as he scolded their dogs for running out of the house.

“Hello, mister, I’m selling chocolate-covered pretzel sticks for my school and wanted to see if you would like to buy one?” You asked, trying to sound confident but sounding shaky instead. He didn’t seem to mind; he seemed happy you were there. “I happen to love chocolate-covered pretzels, but my husband thinks they are too simple to be a good treat. Let’s see what flavors you have.” He begins looking through the flavors you brought when his husband, Hannibal, silently walks up behind the other man. “Who is this?” He asks Will.

“Oh, this is… uh…” You stop him and introduce yourself and again explain why you are there. “This is quite a ways away from the town; surely you did not walk all the way here.” Hannibal questions. “No, sir, I rode my bike. I knew there were a few houses out this way, and I was determined to visit.”

Your determination pleases Hannibal but slightly concerns him. You’re an innocent child. You can’t be out riding your bike on these secluded roads. Will quits digging in the pretzel box, “I have to go get dog food anyway; I could bring you back to town. We will take the whole box of your pretzels since you came all this way out here.” Hannibal seems mildly annoyed by this. You remember that Will said Hannibal thinks they are too simple. Will leaves you alone with Hannibal to grab some cash. “Would you like to step inside? You’ll get sick out there.” Hannibal asks. You gratefully step in. “Your home is pretty.” You observe, earning a soft approving smile from Hannibal.

“Thank you, not many people your age appreciate style. Though you don’t seem like many people your age.” After he finishes talking, you try to stay quiet, and finally, Will returns, giving you the money for your entire box of pretzels. “Now I’m heading into town; would you like a ride?” Will offers. “Yes, please.” You tell him.

The ride back is quiet until he begins to talk. “Most kids avoid our house for their fundraisers. Do you know why?” You glance nervously, “I think it’s just too far.” It’s an obvious lie. “You don’t have to worry about being polite. I know there’s probably a crazy rumor about Hannibal and me.” You stay silent, but the silence is too loud to handle, “All the kids think you and Dr. Lecter like to kidnap and girls and boys and eat them up like the witch in Hansel and Gretel.”

“Well, maybe that’s why I needed all those sweet pretzels, so Dr. Lecter and I could finish building our cottage made of candy.” He seems a little sad at the revelation of this rumor. “I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have said anything.” He smiles and says, “Don’t worry about it. You could make it up to me by telling me how this rumor got started.”

“One of the boys that graduated high school last year told his little brother that he broke into your home on a dare and found human meat in the freezer, but he couldn’t go to the police because he was trespassing and he was high.” You finish explaining. Will smiles a bit, but it has a nervous edge this time, “Do you think we eat bad girls and boys?” You think about it, “no, because you had a bunch of times where you could have killed and eaten me.”

“Are you a bad kid?” Will asks teasingly. “I don’t know. I get in trouble sometimes. My house is in town away, in a trailer park.” Will knew which trailer park. It was “the bad part of town” he knew because he saw the crime statistics for that area and the number of times the cops are called out there. He had seen them the few times he and Hannibal helped with the local law. Hannibal had gotten close with the town’s political figures, and Will had basically been made into an honorary detective with the law enforcement. This town was corrupt to its core, but it was away from the prying eyes of the FBI, and it’s the only place Hannibal and Will could agree on geographically. Will’s only stipulation was that there were good places to fish.

Eventually, you make it to the trailer. Will waits until you make it inside. He cannot help but think about Abigail. He could have had a potential family with Hannibal if things had gone correctly. He was happy with Hannibal and the dogs, but something about you made him want more.

Weeks pass, and he does not bring the topic up to Hannibal. Little did he know Hannibal had been keeping an extra close eye on you. He did it under the guise of getting more pretzels for Will and then special ordering one of the unique flavors that you did not have so he could come back around to "check on the order." Will finds this all out when you see him in the store and give him the order Hannibal had placed.

"That kid from the other day gave me the order you placed," Will says placing the box on the table. "I thought you hated junk food."

"I do; they were a surprise for you. You seem to have taken a liking to the child." Hannibal observes. "They're a good kid. They kind of remind me of Abigail." The room becomes silent for a second too long. Hannibal hates it when Will brings up Abigail. "You seem to like the kid too. You went out of your way to find them to order the pretzels when there were plenty of easier options to order from." Hannibal knows he has been caught.

"They're a well-behaved child, very polite. Like Abigail." Hannibal says somewhat pointedly. "Have you thought about us expanding our family? Not with another dog, but with a human?" Hannibal asks before Will has time to respond to the first statement.

"I hadn't, and then that kid came knocking at the door, and since then, it is all I can think about. But I don't want any kid. Our kid from the trailer park seems to be the best fit; it has to be them." Will explains, hoping that Hannibal will understand.

"Then so be it; they will be our child for us to protect," Hannibal says as if this is a normal conversation.

As the two men begin to work on a plan to add you to their family, their fatherly love for you grows more into fatherly obsession. You're their kid; no one gets to hurt you. Once you're safe and comfortable in their home, no one but them will get to be around you until they know you love them just as much. Hannibal wastes no time putting your room together with all of your favorite things. They were going to make your room the same way it is in the trailer until Hannibal saw the state of your room and became disgusted by the idea of that kind of room being in his expensive house.

Will tries to make a plan to make your transition to their house easier. He finds all kinds of games and activities you are sure to love, even the ones that Hannibal is convinced are bad for your growing brain.

#yandere platonic #platonic yandere #platonic #yandere family #yandere will graham #yandere hannibal lecter #hannibal x will #platonic will graham #platonic hannibal lecter #child!reader #gender neutral reader #fem!reader #male!reader #yandere will graham and hannibal lecter #father and child #yandere dad #yandere parents #soft yandere

[farfromstrange]

Unicorns Need Love Too | Matt Murdock x Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: Your hormones make existing a living hell sometimes. Thankfully, Matt is there to help

Warnings: Fluff, self-indulgent, suggestive language, heavy allusions to smut (MINORS DNI), attempt at humor, not proof-read

Word Count: 2k

A/n: This is a brain fart because I, myself, have a pimple in the middle of my forehead and I feel like a fucking unicorn. I don't even know if it's any good. Just have at it & enjoy!

The few weeks leading up to your period are always the most chaotic and the most draining, but over the years, you have gotten used to only having a few days out of four weeks every month where you feel somewhat normal.

The days between ovulation and the actual start of a new period are probably the worst though—together with the week of hell that follows, of course.

Matt loves it when you ovulate. Your boyfriend’s heightened senses make it possible for him to smell the change in your pheromones, and they drive him borderline insane. It doesn’t help that you always seem to need him more than air when you’re in that fertile window of your cycle, and even though you’re not interested in having a family, he always has to fill you to the brim until you’re overflowing with his cum. Alone the thought of that makes his cock painfully hard.

Unfortunately, though, your body’s desperate need for pleasure isn’t the only side of you that comes out during that week. Every month, Matt discovers something new about you. Every month, he finds something new to love, and he finds strange quirks of yours that may seem odd to him at first, but he still adores them as much as he adores the rest of you.

 “Why does it smell like a chemical plant here?” He pokes his head into the bathroom, his chiseled body dressed in the red leather of his Daredevil suit, minus the cowl and his gloves. 

You turn to him from the sink. Your eyes roam over his body before they land on his face, meeting his unfocused gaze. “It’s my skincare,” you answer.

What did he think you were doing? Building a chemical weapon? Cooking meth? He would have been able to smell that much more clearly than your skincare products.

“What are you using?” Matt asks, leaning against the doorframe in all his glory as he slides those beautifully thick fingers of his into his leather gloves.

Your eyebrow quips. “Salicylic acid. Why?”

The way he looks at you, forehead slightly wrinkled as he frowns, reminds you of a concerned parent when their child has found a sharp object to play with. 

“That smells dangerous.”

You shrug, continuing to rub the solution into your skin. “It pulls the gunk out of my pores.”

“And that works?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” he says. His expression remains wary. “Just don’t inhale it.” 

“Matt, this isn’t the first time I’ve used it. I’ve had acne since I was a teenager,” you remind him.

A small smile plays on his lips, mirroring yours. “I know. Just want you to be careful, that's all.”

You put the tube down, turning your whole body to him. “I have never heard of death by skincare,” you say, “but I’ll be careful. Promise.”

The answer, albeit a bit sarcastic, satisfies him. Matt fastens his gloves with a happy little nod. “Thank you. I’ll, uh, be back in a few hours,” he says, coming over to press a kiss to the top of your head, his hand cradling the back of it. “Don’t wait up. You’re drained.”

You open your mouth to protest, “I can wait for you.”

“Not at this point of your cycle. You’re going to be cranky tomorrow.”

You’re aware that Matt knows your body inside and out. He knows you better than you could ever know yourself. He can sense things that even you can’t pick up on. At first, it was something you had to get used to, but you have grown accustomed to his heightened senses and the perks they bring with them. 

Tipping your chin in his direction, you retort, “I’m not sure if I should take offense to that.”

“Don’t,” Matt says nonchalantly. “If I had an organ lose its shit every month because it wants to be fertilized, putting you through the works to prepare you for it, and then cause me to bleed and cramp uncontrollably for a week straight as revenge when I refuse to let a myriad of sperm play tag you’re it inside me, I’d get cranky too.”

That description sounds almost too perfect. You lean forward to capture his plump lips in another passionate kiss. “Fair point. Be safe, please.”

“Always.”

“That’s a lie,” you say. 

“I promise, I’ll be safe.”

“That’s better.”

He strokes his thumb over your cheekbone. “Love you,” he says, and he kisses you one last time.

Whenever he goes out at night, Matt kisses you as if you are never going to see him again. It’s a possibility you have often cried over. You’ve obsessed over everything that could go wrong. 

He has had way too many close calls for you to take anything he does for granted, and when he kisses you like that, like he is afraid of losing you as well, you at least know that he will try his everything to make it back to you in one piece—even if it’s a mangled piece. 

“I love you too,” you murmur. 

That’s another thing about his kisses: they have the ability to render you speechless.

A slight gust of wind brushes through your hair when the door to the rooftop exit opens, and when you open your eyes, Matt is gone. The living room is lulled in darkness. 10:13 pm. You start counting down the hours, praying once again to all Gods above that he will be okay tonight.

• • •

When Matt comes home a few hours later, he finds you passed out on your shared bed, your limbs tangled in the silk sheets that smell of him and you, and even more you.

He isn’t injured, more ramped up with adrenaline than anything, but he doesn’t want to disturb your peaceful slumber, so he settles down on the couch instead. It doesn’t take long for the night to crash into him, and he collapses. He doesn’t even have it in him to make it back to bed.

You wake up in a cold sweat when your alarm goes off the next morning, but the open bedroom door and Matt’s snoring figure on the couch tell you that he is alive and well. That’s a good sign. If he’s asleep and not injured, you have nothing to worry about. 

That is what you think until you see your reflection in the bathroom mirror. 

Matt wakes to the sound of a loud groan. Suddenly awake and alert, he takes a look around the apartment. Nothing is out of place, except—you’re missing. 

He gets up and knocks on the bathroom door. It’s locked. “Sweetheart,” he calls out softly. “You okay in there? Can you open the door?”

“No,” you reply. Your voice is slightly muffled through the wood, but he can still hear your labored breathing and your elevated heartbeat loud and clear.

“Why not?” he asks.

“Because I look hideous.”

His eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “I don’t know if you‘ve heard, but I’m blind.”

You groan again, more defeated this time. You seem to plop down on the edge of the bathtub. “Oh, shut up!” you snap. “This is as much a visual as it is a textural issue.”

“As in what? You’ve grown fur and a tail overnight?” Matt can’t help but muse a little. “Because even if you turned into a wolf or a worm, I would still love you. You know that.”

“Matt, this isn’t funny. My acne is escalating.”

Now you sound sad, and he starts feeling bad. 

He touches his palm against the door. “But you used those acids last night,” his words land much softer. “I thought they were supposed to help with your acne.”

“Apparently fucking not ‘cause my fertile window is pretty much still wide open, and I think I felt myself ovulate this morning.”

“Oh. Well, it’s just some pimples, sweetheart. It’s not the end of the world.”

Matt realizes too late that he may have chosen his words poorly. You take a deep breath, and for a moment he believes you’re just going to say, but then you shout at him, “EASY OF YOU TO SAY, MISTER I-ALWAYS-HAVE-FLAWLESS-SKIN!”

He winces, dropping his forehead next to his palm. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. What can I do?” he asks. “Get you a paper bag?”

You must have smoke coming out of your ears by now. “Matthew Michael Murdock, I swear to God–”

“I’m so sorry, sweetie. I’m just trying to cheer you up.” He knocks again. “Can you please let me in? I want to hug you. You sound sad.”

A pregnant pause follows. The silence settles deep into his bones. He can still hear your heartbeat, but he can’t judge what you’re thinking. Then, he hears your bare feet pat against the floor. The lock clicks, and you finally open the door. 

“I look like the last fucking unicorn, Matt,” you say. “I’m an endangered species.”

Matt’s arms find your waist, and he pulls you against him. You don’t protest. “You don’t feel like a unicorn. You don’t even have the body of a horse.”

The beginning of a smile that was growing on your face vanishes within seconds, and you stare up at him. He can feel your gaze burning through his skull, a look of utter astonishment on your face. That is how he imagines you, anyway. 

“Just a pimple on your forehead,” he adds because he realizes his words are failing to get his point across in all possible ways.

You bury your face in his chest. “Oh, fuck off!”

“What? Pimples are natural and nothing to be ashamed of, especially not when your body is full of hormones that are making your day a living hell.”

“I feel ashamed because I look like a very fucking ugly unicorn!”

“You’re not ugly,” he insists, patiently so, knowing that this is just another side of you that comes out when you’re overwhelmed by the sheer force of your hormonal cycle. “If anything,” Matt says, “you’re a cute unicorn.”

“No,” you shake your head. “I’m a pissed-off unicorn who’s ovulating, which makes her sad and horny with a fucking stuffed and inflamed pore on her freaking forehead!”

“I can do something about the horniness, but I can’t make the pimple go away. I’m sorry.”

“UGH!” For a moment, he thinks you’re going to hit his chest with your balled fist, but instead, you tangle your fingers in his shirt.

He rubs his large hand along your spine. “Come here.” Almost naturally, his nose buries itself in your hair. “Do you have those patch thingies you always use when you break out?” he asks. 

“I ran out,” you say. 

“Should I get them for you on my way home from work?”

“You’d do that?”

“Of course,” he says.

Your smile is unmistakable. “I want the heart-shaped ones.”

“Because they make you feel cute?”

“Yeah.”

Matt chuckles anew. “Okay. I’ll get you those.”

“Thank you.” Sniff.

He tilts his head to the side. “Did you just sniff me?” he asks. 

“Mhm,” you shamelessly admit as you suck in a breath again, inhaling his distinctive scent. “You smell good.”

“I didn’t even shower last night. I passed out on the couch.”

“Oh God, that makes it worse!” You shove him away. “I’m getting turned on by the smell of your sweat.”

His giggles turn into laughter. “How about I shower first and then you can sniff me again?” Matt opens his arms as if he just made an offer you couldn’t possibly refuse. 

But you can. Because Matt showering and washing the scent of danger off his beautiful skin is the last thing you want, and if your body is satisfied, maybe the storm in your mind will finally calm down, too. 

You stop him. “No. Don’t shower.”

“No?” He raises an eyebrow.

“No,” you say. “You said you can help me with my horniness, right? That was part of the deal?”

The brown of his irises gets overtaken by the black of his pupils. “I did say that, didn’t I?” 

“Uh-huh. So, no shower. And I could really use a hand. Or two. And quite possibly your cock, too.”

Matt smirks. “Anything you want, sweetheart,” he purrs. “I’m all yours.”

You’re about to kiss him when you realize, “The unicorn pimple–”

“Don’t care. I've heard somewhere that unicorns need love too.” He cradles your face in his hands. “And I intend to do that shamelessly for the next hour and a half.”

The bathroom door falls closed behind the two of you as he uses his strength to guide you back inside, and a kiss is all it takes for you to shut up and surrender yourself to him completely.

Unicorn pimple be damned!

Tag List: @littlenerdyravenclaw @yarrystyleeza @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @amberritonicole @thatonegamefish @norestfortheshelbywicked @mattkinsella @itwasthereaminuteago @linamarr @gpenguin666 @acharliecoxedfan

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock smut #daredevil x reader #matt murdock x f!reader #crack fic #daredevil #self indulgent #no y/n #charlie cox

[angelltheninth]

if it’s not too much to ask, can I get a “trying to ignore your crush” with childe, Capitano, al haitham, and dottore? (And maybe some smut? 🤔your choice! I’m a new anon btw, i love your work so much!! Keep it going❤️❤️)

New Anon! Welcome, hope you have fun here!

Pairing: Childe, Capitano, Dottore, Al-Haitham x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, crushes, suggestive content, kabedon, teasing, grinding, marking, neck kisses

A/N: I like to think I could ignore my crushes on someone if I got them but I'm not that cool.

Childe figures you'll playing hard to get and that is fine by him. He just needs to work harder to win your heart, bring it on. Walks alongside you and tries his best to get you to look his way, to fluster you with compliments and sweet words and jokes. None of it works to his surprise. Odd. Maybe a more direct approach? He never had to take someone by the hand and look them in the eyes as he confessed, usually others confess to him, it's strange being on the other side of that but now unwelcome. Not when he finally got that flustered look out of you.

Capitano doesn't understand why you're suddenly avoiding him. He already knows you like him, he can read you like an open book, there's no need to dance around this. You certainly don't see it the same way. It's scary having feelings for Capitano, he's slightly intimidating to you, so you try to run from your own feelings, including running from him. You want him to chase you? Fine, but when catches you he will make you his if you aren't already bending to his will and whim. You will have bruises from how much he's gripping at your hips, he will scare the confession out of you, or arouse it, whatever happens first.

Dottore has no tolerance for you avoiding him like this. He won't try to deny that he likes seeing you around his lab. When you stop stopping by he wonders why, he can't focus on his work and that bothers him to no end. He locates you quickly, knowing your favorite spots, and your weak spots too. He only needs to pin you against the wall and grab you by the chin to make you break. Why are you avoiding him? Is there someone else? Do you need a reminder of who you belong to? Oh you're not dating but you are his and his alone, those marks on your neck are proof, and if you need more he will leave them all over your body.

Al-Haitham is worried where you went when you start avoiding him. You've been more reclusive too, less open about you feelings for whatever reason. When you get back to work, because you do eventually need to get back. It wasn't even that he was mad about you working from home, he just wanted to see you, talk to you. You barely talked to him even then. By the end of the day he had enough, he had to break the silence. He wanted you to tell him why you've been avoiding his company. With you pinned between him and the desk there's nowhere for you to go and face the music, and other things if thing go well.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #childe x reader #capitano x reader #dottore x reader #al haitham x reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact imagines #genshin headcanons #genshin imagines #genshin impact fluff #genshin fluff #childe fluff #capitano fluff #dottore fluff #al haitham fluff

[takenbypeter]

Hey! Jumped on the Wonka train since yesterday and had two thumbs up! Can I request a Wonka x single mom reader where during the course of the movie they’ve built up a bit of a flirtation/relationship and he bonds with her kid (s) bc of course they love the magician with chocolate who makes their mama smile. Specifically I’m looking for like a scene towards the end of the movie or post-canon where he expresses interest in adopting her kid (or kids) and of course marriage so they can all be one real happy family together. Sorry if that description’s a lot

Beginnings of a New Dream

Willy Wonka x reader

Words: 1780

Ahhh this one is so bad 🙈 I tried with this one but honestly I hate it, Idk I think it's cause I can't relate to parent fics so I just suck at them but still I wanna thank you for requesting

“Where is he?” You said to yourself, as you turned around in search of the young child. You’ve left him alone only for one second and now, poof, he’s nowhere in sight. 

Your eyes scanned your surroundings quickly until it spotted a familiar tiny figure standing upright among the white snow and you wasted no time to catch up. 

“There you are,” you breathed out, worried tone evident in your voice, “I told you to stay put,” you reminded, before noticing the stranger who was with him. 

The unknown man was wearing a tattered overcoat, along with a worn out top hat. His outfit was very…unusual, to say the least. And he was quite handsome.

But what concerned you the most, was his outstretched hand which held a small piece of wrapped candy. 

You glanced at your son who was already chewing on what you could assume was a different piece, then back at the stranger who instantly understands how bad this looks. 

“I’m sorry, I haven’t properly introduced myself. My name is Willy Wonka and I’m a chocolatier hoping to open my own shop very soon.”

“Mommy he can do magic!” Shouted your son.

“Oh he can now, can he?”

Willy Wonka. You’ve heard that name around town a few times, but this is the first you’ve seen of the man. 

He held out a hand to which you firmly shook, “well Willy Wonka, surely you, being a stranger and all, understand why I find it odd you’re giving candy to my son, knowing how dangerous it is for children to talk to, no less take candy from a stranger.”

“Ahem,” he let out an awkward cough as he retracted his hand. “I do apologize. It wasn’t my intention to cause fret. The little guy looked lost so my only intent was to keep him safe and occupied, honest.”

You squinted slightly unsure of the man. He stood arms up and opened in an innocent manner. His eyes were big with his thick eyebrows angled upwards at the middle before curving down. He did seem to be of no harm, and he did keep your son safe. 

You let out a relaxed sigh, “it’s alright, it’s my fault anyway, I should’ve kept an eye on my son. Thank you for keeping him safe.”

Wonka’s shoulders dropped and his facial muscles relaxed at your pardon. 

You reached down holding your child close, “we’ll leave you be. Thanks again.” 

“Wait,” his voice rang out, catching you before you departed. “Would you like to try a piece?” He held out the same small piece of chocolate from earlier in his palm upwards towards you. 

You’re just about ready to decline the offer but again he speaks out, “it would really be helpful to have a mature opinion on this chocolate.”

You nodded caving in because honestly, who were you to deny free chocolate, your mind thought showing you to be just as gullible as a child. Taking the sweet treat, you pop it past your lips.

 Immediately a rich flavor overtakes your mouth and as you bite into it, a milky chocolate filling spreads around. 

It was quite good. 

“Mmm,” you nodded towards the man, “oh you are going to go far with this chocolate Mr.Wonka.”

“Thank you. Your words mean much to me,” he said genuinely, and you let out a chuckle, “you’re welcome Mr.Wonka,” you say, as you turn around, hand in hand with your son.

Willy watches you fade from view with a prominent smile on his lips, because although he knew his business would do well, with the justification of your words he felt he was on the right path. 

And honestly he hoped to meet you on this path again. 

Days passed until you met the self proclaimed chocolatier again. 

You had been traveling, hand clasped with your sons, when you spotted Mr.Wonka’s pop up store in the center of town. Initially wanting to pass the store along with the small crowd surrounding it, your plans are thwarted when your son pulls you towards it.

“It’s Mr.Wonka!” Shouted your son as he pointed towards the herd, “alright, alright we’ll just stop by.” He runs, his little feet taking him as fast as he can while dragging your body along.

“Mr.Wonka! Mr.Wonka!” Shouts your son as he rushes to the front with you following close behind. 

Willy’s eyes widened in recognition, “well hey there, little guy, back so soon?” He asks, prompting your son.

You watch, looking on as the chocolatier chats with your child. They go back and forth creating small talk, before Wonka pulls out one tiny piece of chocolate, He waves his hands around and the crowd watches as he turns one piece into two right in front of their eyes. 

“Woah, do it again!” Clapped your boy in amazement, and truthfully you felt the same way. 

He performs the trick once more and again your son laughs as Wonka gives him one of the pieces before turning to you and handing you the other piece. 

“You are surprisingly well with children.”

He shrugs, at the comment, “it helps when you have such a sweet child…who has such a pleasant mother.”

He tips his hat while all you can do is chuckle trying not to look too moved by the man’s remark. 

“Thank you Mr.Wonka.”

“Please, call me Willy,” he adds and you nod while he returns his attention to other customers.

That Willy Wonka, what a charmer he was.

The week goes by before you run into the young man again, however, this time you were alone. 

“Willy!” You announced, trying not to sound too excited when you saw the chocolatier, who was walking along the street with a young lady. (You soon learned her name to be Noodle.)

You exchange greetings while Noodle makes her exit leaving you be. 

“What are you doing all alone? Where is the little one?” He asks, glancing around. “Oh I had to run some errands today so I had a friend watch him for me.”

Willy shares a soft smile, “he really is a brilliant kid, with a brilliant mother of course.”

“You flatter me Mr.Wonka.”

“Willy,” he reminds.

“Willy,” you repeat, sharing a look together before he blinks readjusting his focus. 

“Oh!” His eyes enlarge as he reaches behind him into his battered briefcase, “I had something made for the little guy, and for, ahem, the mister back home,” he holds out a small jar of candies to which you take grateful. 

“Please, there’s nothing of the sort, just me and the kiddo.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s alright. It’s been that way for a while, it’s sort of the only way we know.” 

Willy shares a look with you, one unlike the look of pity most give when they hear your story, it was more of admiration? Respect? Either way, you thank him for thinking of you and as you do so, you hear a siren noise nearing before the chief of police arrives. 

He steps out of his vehicle and Willy turns to you, “I think you should go. Now. I’ll talk to you soon,” he says and you nod in understanding leaving the scene as the chief of police nears. 

That’s how your time gets spent whenever you spot the man; your son talks with him, you talk with him, Willy performs a magic trick. You try to buy some candy, Willy refuses and instead gives it to you for free and then you’re on your way. 

“Willy! Willy! Look, my tooth is missing!” Your son yelled running up to Willy. 

“Oh wow, that is outstanding! But you know what I heard?” Willy lowers himself to your son’s level, hushing his voice. 

“I heard this year, the tooth fairy started leaving candy underneath the pillows, for all the good boys and girls.”

“Really?!”

Willy looks up in your direction shooting you a quick wink. 

“Really.”

Your son turns to you with a smile from ear to ear present on his face as you nod confirming his curiosities. 

Mirroring his grin you watch on as Willy and your son continue in conversation. You’ve grown to the sight of them both, chatting and laughing. It was a very lovable sight. 

 That’s how it went, your meetings together.

And with each meeting you found yourself drawing closer and closer to the man, staying longer and longer on your visits.

The last time you saw Willy was at his opening for the factory, when everything went south. People rioted and burned his shop down and in the craziness you grabbed your son and ran putting his safety first. 

After that you didn’t hear from Willy. 

That is until today. You weren’t there when all the mess went down. When Willy and his team practically outsmarted the Chocolate Cartel, having them arrested. 

But you made sure to be there for Willy Wonka’s new opening of his shop. 

You stood in the crowd, your hand clutching your sons as the people gathered around trying the various sweets and treats. 

Walking around taking in all the beautiful colors and lights you stop at a wall full of jellybeans and gumdrops. And giving your son permission to collect some, you stand a short distance keeping an eye on him. 

“You made it,” said a voice as a figure emerged beside you. You smiled at Willy who was positioned just as you were towards the colorful wall. 

“Of course I did. I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

You watch for a moment as your son collects snacks, putting them into a bag that was provided. You were so occupied with him that you hadn't realized Willy was holding out one of his own creations for you.

“A chocolate flower for the lady.”

“It doesn’t have any yeti sweat does it?” You asked, eyebrow raised. You were lucky enough that you hadn’t managed to eat any of the poisoned chocolate last time.

“No, no yeti sweat.”

Beaming you take it and happily munch on it. 

“So this place…is it everything you’ve dreamed of.”

He glances around taking it all in. The smiles on peoples faces, the way they’re in full enjoyment, but then his gaze returns to yours, “yes it is. But it’s strange.”

You tilt your head silently, allowing him to continue his thought as he turns his attention back to your son then you again. “I think…I think I have a new dream now.”

“Oh yeah? What’s your new dream?”

Willy’s eyes lock onto yours. 

There are no words shared between you two but somehow you seem to understand what he means.

#willy wonka x reader #willy wonka fanfiction #willy wonka fanfic #willy wonka imagine #wonka x reader #wonka fanfiction #wonka fanfic #wonka imagine

[rebouks]

She knew-.. Robin was sure of it.

Despite her warmth, he’d always been slightly unnerved by aunt Alma’s presence; there was something odd about her that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Some people were harder to read than others, like Alex, but it was still possible.

Alma’s mind was like an impenetrable vault in comparison. Any attempts to feel or hear anything she did were met with a metaphorical brick wall, leaving him reeling as though he’d collided with it head first-.. but not tonight. Tonight, Alma was like an open book, and Robin was convinced she was doing it on purpose.

She’d told him all about her struggles as a child; how she didn’t fit in, how people teased her for being too sensitive, how hard it was to figure out who she was amongst the clamour of everyone else’s inner most image of themselves-.. all the while allowing him unlimited access to those very memories, like a handpicked blooper reel, just for him. Of course, that wasn’t the case though.. was it?

Alma had stopped talking now, but Robin still wasn’t sure how to react. He sat in silence instead, staring at nothing in particular for far longer than what could be considered normal.

“Can you hear me?” he thought, deciding to try a little experiment.

Nothing. Okay, so she couldn’t read his mind-.. then what the heck was she getting at? How had she so succinctly summed up his entire existence in less than fifteen minutes?

“I would’ve liked somewhere as quiet as this when I was young, it’s a shame we didn’t have an attic…” Alma offered, clearly trying to relate to Robin’s situation in any way she could. He still wasn’t entirely sure why, but she clearly wanted to help, and Robin didn’t know anyone else who understood him as well as she did, so perhaps he ought to let her try. He finally abandoned his switch and cautiously joined her atop his favourite, motheaten couch.

“What’re you getting at?” he said bluntly, curiosity getting the better of his manners. Alma chuckled softly, “You’re just like your father.” “It’s genetics, apparently…” Robin let loose a brief grin, glad to be compared to Oscar.

“I don’t know how exactly, but you’re different, Robin-.. and I thought it high time you knew you weren’t alone, and that we can’t let these things get the best of us.” Alma smiled softly as she spoke, but Robin was still too wary to be completely transparent. “We?” he asked, dubiously. “We’re few and far between, but you’re certainly not the only one who’s a little.. special, shall we say? That’s better than different, maybe?” Alma suggested.

Robin hummed thoughtfully, shaking his head, “Special is just another word for different, or weird.” Alma scoffed playfully, “And what’s wrong with being weird? I’m weird-.. we’re all a bit weird!”

“How’re you weird?” Robin asked, squinting at Alma accusingly. “Well, I can sense things I certainly shouldn’t be able to.” Alma started, excited to be getting somewhere. “Emotions radiate from people like a space heater-.. they’re not always pleasant, of course, but I can soak them up if I want to.”

Robin blinked, “Only if you want to..?” “Uh-huh.” Alma nodded. “You can block it out?!” Robin spluttered, suddenly and completely forgetting to maintain his ignorance before swiftly correcting himself. “I mean-.. it sounds like you can pick and choose, right?”

Alma nodded once more, “It wasn’t easy, but I spent a lot of years practicing.” “Years?” Robin sounded crestfallen. “I didn’t have a mentor…” Alma winked.

Robin allowed himself to smirk, figuring he might as well drop at least part of the act at this point. He was still a little nervous about being approached about such things so brazenly, but at least he knew why Alma perturbed him so much now, she was blocking him out on purpose-.. and she couldn’t read his mind either, which was always a plus.

The last thing he wanted was for anyone to know that he possessed that particular ability. Who’d want to hang out with someone who could access their inner most thoughts, the one’s they’d never dream of saying out loud? He shuddered involuntarily, hoping he’d never meet anyone that could read his.

Clementine finally nudged Robin, dragging him back to the present with her ghostly touch. “She looked right at me just then-.. she smiled! Did you see?” Robin spun around, realising that Alma had almost begun her descent. He must’ve missed her goodbye. “Wait!”

Alma paused expectantly, causing Robin to second guess himself and retreat into silence. “I won’t be far, sweetheart-.. whenever you’re ready.” Robin shivered as Clementine poked him again, “She can definitely see me…” “Can you, uh-…”

“See the ghost poking you?” Alma giggled, sounding far younger than she was. The vault doors had snapped shut again by now, but Robin got the impression that aunt Alma was just as excited as he was to find someone else who was weird. “Can you hear her?”

“Maybe-.. though I’m quite sure she hasn’t said anything yet.” Alma peered at Clementine expectantly. “Hey!” Clementine exclaimed as Robin tried to shove her into action, his hand ending up halfway through her waist instead.

“What? It’s not like you can feel it.” Robin snorted. Alma laughed heartily, thoroughly amused. “Well, I heard that-.. you two are good friends, huh?”

Robin nodded slightly, releasing a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. “I thought I was the only one who could see her-.. that maybe I was going insane…” “Far from it, honey! You hit me up whenever you feel like it, okay?”

Previous // Next

#ts4 #sims 4 #simblr #ts4 story #sims story #forever in between #fib #robin finch #clementine stanton #alma garcia #whew.. longish post but necessary!?! #u can keep your secrets for the most part robin but maybe it's time to let -someone- in.. who better than “weird” aunt alma? #🤭 #she's an empath btw.. so she can't read minds #but she picked up on robin's lil gift even if not -fully- #enough to try n help right?!! #this was super hard to write cos how do u start a conversation where one doesn't know what's up n the other refuses to say anything skdjskj #big ty to zosa for helping me get going ilyyyyy 🤸‍♀️

[sunfyresrider]

𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡, 𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠

Widow!Alicent Hightower x Fem!Reader

Summary: Ever since Alicent Hightower’s husband died her life had changed exponentially. It’s a hard thing, knowing what to do with freedom you’ve never had. In her attempt to expand her horizons she reaches many bumps in the road she didn’t realize existed, until she met you. Tags: mentions of death, sexuality crisis, struggling to accept change, heavy anxiety, eventual smut and a lot of self-healing. Author’s Note: @ilikeitbetterangsty THIS IS FOR YOU BABES💕 I really hope I did your request justice . Thank you so much for being an amazing mutual and beautiful person. Ps I’ve never been on a date, let alone a first date so I’m sorry if that scene was a little awkward. ALSO dividers are made by @saradika !!!!

His death was expected, anticipated even, yet the day she woke up next to a cold corpse seared itself inside her brain forever. She should be mourning. She should have been more upset, shed more tears for her husband of nearly twenty years. Instead, all Alicent could feel was an odd relief, a weight being lifted from her shoulders. She was finally free.

However, what does someone do with freedom when they’ve never had it? She could do anything in the world, she had more than enough money for it. But what do free people do? Alicent had to read up on what widows were into. They travel, indulge in hobbies, and go out for brunch and gossip. The main factor in all of these is they’re never alone. 

Twenty years of marriage and four children and Alicent couldn’t remember a time where she wasn’t alone. She had no friends, too busy caring for a sick old man, children, and running a company. Alicent didn’t want to be alone, she didn’t want to die knowing she had never truly loved. There was nothing holding her back, no father pushing religious guilt, no husband taking her time, and no children to judge.

At first, she made no moves for change. She continued staying at home and running her life as she always did. Although now she spent more time fussing over her only child at home rather than Viserys. Unfortunately, Aegon, her eldest and most troubled child finally declared he was moving out. He also said she needed to get a life in the exact same sentence. 

It was time to take a real look in the mirror at the woman Alicent Hightower had become. It was not the best feeling in the world. In the past she was happy, determined, and beautiful in some eyes. Now she was tired, a bit of a pushover and unbearably lonely. All she had done her whole life was serve other people, her father, her husband, her children and never herself. Alicent needed to change that before she died old and miserable. 

There was another thing she needed to come to terms with. She never loved Viserys, she never loved any man for that matter. Marriage wasn’t something she enjoyed but endured. Alicent wanted to love someone, which was something she never truly had. Except for once when she was young until she married her friend’s father. Maybe she didn’t hate sex just who it was with. Maybe she was capable of love just not for men. Maybe it was time she started attempting to live her truth.

That was the final push she needed to do something. So, Alicent took a leap of faith after reading a pop news article and downloading HER. It’s an app for lgbt dating, specifically lesbians… It still sounded like a dirty word even if she only said it in her head. There was still a twinge of guilt when she made her first match. It’ll pass, the article on women struggling being their true selves said so. 

Twenty years of marriage and Alicent didn’t even know how to flirt, let alone with a woman. The first woman she matched with was only slightly younger yet had no children. She called Alicent a milf, which is a compliment nowadays. It didn’t go much farther, the lack of knowledge on slang really did not bode well with people. 

Anyone younger than her wouldn’t do, so she changed the settings. The second match was one that made her excited. From the outside they seemed to share the same values and she was a mother too. They went on a singular date that might not have been the greatest. Alicent was a little awkward, still too insecure about herself to initiate anything, and avoided the goodnight kiss that was offered. It didn’t seem to bother the woman, which made her believe this could be the one. They could grow together, maybe even build a new life together. Alicent genuinely thought she found the perfect one. Until they ghosted her. 

The app was deleted that same night. Maybe dating wasn’t in the cards for her. It stung, surprisingly worse than when Viserys died. For a few days she sat in her house and sulked. She strictly ordered takeaway, and binge watched the housewives of Orange County. Braunwyn was without a doubt closeted, it was like looking in a mirror, a very fucked up mirror. 

Alicent did a quick deep dive only to find out her suspicions were correct. Right now, Braunwyn was happily outed and living with her girlfriend… It was a mix of jealousy and hope. Someone just like her was living her dream life, which was unfair, but maybe it meant she could manage to live her dream too. 

She finally decided to get off her ass and do something. She was a free woman, she could do whatever she wanted, she told herself as she did a rather intense spa routine. All of her expensive skincare products and fancy tools were being put to use today.  Alicent actually changed out of her pajamas and into a nice dress she hadn’t worn in ages. It was a black bodycon dress, the only one she owned. Very out of character for her but she was a free woman, she could wear whatever she wanted.

She was going to take herself on a date, to a fancy restaurant. Alicent arrived at the venue feeling nervous but excited at the same time. It was the first time she had gone here alone; the servers were quite surprised to say the least. As she was led to her table, she noticed the looks she was getting from some of the other diners. Maybe it was the dress, or maybe it was the fact she was alone for once.

It didn’t matter, she told herself. “Hey, is this seat taken?” Her head whipped to the side, “N-oh! No.” You let out a small laugh, “I'm only joking, I have my parents waiting for me. How’ve you been Ali?” The last person she expected to meet was Aegon’s old tutor. You hadn’t seen each other in several years maybe. It wasn’t a bad surprise, actually it was amazing to see you again. “I’ve been great, better than ever! How are you?” 

“Oh, I’ve been thriving! After quitting I went on a self-healing journey and haven’t gone back.” Your smile reached from ear to ear, you were absolutely glowing in every sense of the word. Alicent was captivated, maybe a little nervous trying to find the right words to say. She hasn’t felt this way since she was what? Fourteen and heavily in the closet. So, she did something way out of her comfort zone, a first step of sorts. 

“If you’re free, I’d love for you to come over for dinner sometime and hear more about how you’ve been.” You seemed shocked, cocking an eyebrow at her question. “Is the Alicent Hightower asking me on a date?” She froze, it didn’t even cross her mind what she was actually asking. 

So, she blurted out the first thing on her mind. "I...um…if you want it to be." You flashed a smile that was different from the one from earlier. You picked up a napkin, scribbling something on it. “Let me know the time and I’ll be there.”  She let out a sigh of relief when you walked away, feeling as if she was going to burst any moment now. Her head was spinning, her heart was racing. She actually asked someone out, on a date no less.

She was nervous, it had been so long since anyone besides her immediate family came into her home. At least it was clean now that Aegon wasn’t here to make messes everywhere he went. In her opinion the modern green color scheme looks great but maybe you hated green. Or maybe she was overthinking this. 

Alicent hadn’t ever really cooked besides a select few times the personal chef got sick. In her mind it would be more meaningful for her to cook something for the both of you. However, making homemade penne vodka was a lot harder than she thought. 

She wanted it to be perfect, she wanted to impress you in every way. The dining table was set with a vase of roses, her best silverware, and very expensive wine she was saving for a special occasion. She even bought a new dress for this evening, a form-fitting silk one with flowing sleeves.

It was a few hours into her cooking when you rang the doorbell. Alicent took a deep breath, telling herself to remain calm and not make a fool of herself. It didn't stop her from tripping over the edge of the rug on the way to the front door. She jumped up, dusting off herself.

You were there, just as beautiful as you were earlier. "Hey!" Your smile was contagious, making her grin in return. You looked absolutely gorgeous, dressed in a white button-down shirt and black jeans. You pulled her into a hug, you smelled like strawberries, and a scent she could only describe as happiness.

"It’s so good to see you!" She ushered you in, letting you take a seat while she went back to finish cooking. You looked around, taking everything in. “It's still as big as I remember, though you definitely changed the decor.” She snickered, "Well it was in desperate need of a facelift, I just couldn't stand the red and black anymore."

Ali returned with a big bowl, carefully plating both of yours. "I didn’t know you knew how to cook! I thought you had personal chefs for this kind of stuff.” She grinned proudly, "Well, I wanted to do something special for you tonight." 

"Aren’t you romantic," You smiled at her. You took a bite, letting out a pleasured sigh. "So good!" Her smile was practically radiant at your praise. You made small talk during dinner, talking about anything and everything. Catching up on what’s happened in the few years you hadn’t seen each other. 

She told you about how Aegon is doing, how he has a girlfriend now. You told her about how he was the reason you inevitably quit teaching and decided to travel. You talked about your life, how you took the time to really get to know yourself, and how that was the best decision of your life. She vaguely talked about hers, only giving you bits and pieces. 

What you did learn was that she was fucking hilarious, and so much more welcoming than other rich housewives you’ve met. You didn’t ask about the dead husband; it was pretty clear by the lack of a ring and her finally smiling. 

Alicent listened to every word intently, her big brown eyes staring into yours. She used to always have a sad look inside them but now she was practically beaming. It might have been the wine flushing her cheeks, but you chose to believe it was because of you.

At some point you ended up on the couch watching housewives, at least pretending to. You were both still talking over the noise, slowly leaning into each other each time you laughed. 

You leaned forward, brushing a stray hair from Alicent’s face. Your lips brushed together, “you’re beautiful, you know.” Alicent let out a laugh, "You're too much." Her eyes closed, taking the lead and kissing you first.

 When your lips met her, it felt as if fireworks had gone off. Your lips were soft like peaches but tasted sweet like cherries. Your hands touched her face gently, leaving trails of electricity where your fingers were touching. 

Her own hands gently tracing down your neck, shoulder, and side to rest on your hips. Alicent’s body sunk down on the mattress, letting you move on top of her to do as you pleased. When she broke the kiss to take a deep breath, you kissed down to her neck and jawline, sending vibrations throughout her. She made a sickly-sweet sound that made your ears tingle. 

Her hands moved slowly, almost cautiously as she moved your shirt up to feel your bare skin. She delicately traced lines up and down the curves of your waist. Your sweet kisses trailed down her neck, chest, and slowly you lifted up the dress she was wearing. Moving to suckle at the skin around her core, worshiping her thighs. 

Alicent let out a soft moan, curling her fingers into your hair. Her soft noises only encouraged you. Your fingers traced her folds, moving their way around the fabric. You looked up, watching her cheeks flush red in embarrassment. A simple nod was the encouragement you needed to continue.

Your lips kissed over the fabric, hearing her breathe become labored. Her fingers tugged lightly at your hair. You pulled down her underwear, moving it down to the end of her legs. It was your turn to blush, seeing how wet she was already.

Her hips twitched when you dragged a finger through her slit, your finger coming back glistening. You eased it inside of her, quickly finding the sweet spongy spot. Her back arched as you moved your finger, soon another one joining. Your tongue sucked at her clit, moving in circles.

Alicent bucked her hips into your hand, her moans filling the air. Her eyes were shut as you made her legs shake. Your tongue moved faster, hearing her sweet cries. She pulled your hair, pressing your mouth harder against her. Her walls tighten around your fingers, letting you know she was close.

Alicent shuddered, gripping your hair harder as she came. Her back arched off the couch, her eyes rolling to the back of her head. It was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. Her body finally relaxed, laying on the couch. Her eyes closed, a blissful smile on her lips.

You crawled up, leaning over her. You brushed her hair behind her ear, gazing into her brown eyes. They were still sparkling, like two polished stones. Alicent slowly moved her hands down your back, lifting your shirt over your head. She sat up, kissing you softly. 

Her hand slowly moved down, grasping your thighs and opening them. Her kisses trailed down your neck, breasts, and stomach. You let out a small noise as she rubbed you through your pants. Her kisses got hungrier as she undid your belt and pulled down everything that covered you.

You let out a squeal of surprise, feeling her pull you on top. Your cheeks flushed red, as she angled your cunt above her mouth. Alicent was precise, her mouth sucking at you gently. Her hands pressed against your hips, keeping you in place.

Your fingers threaded into her hair, holding her face to your cunt. She flicked her tongue against you, moving it in circles. Her hands moved up to squeeze your ass. You grinded against her face, your juices coating her chin and the couch. Alicent hummed against you, the vibrations sending shockwaves through you.

Her fingers pressed into you, curling up to prod at your sweet spot. She let out a purring noise, making you move your hips faster. Your breath hitched as she moved her fingers faster, sucking at you with a new intensity. Her tongue moved quickly, lapping up all the juices coming from you.

Your thighs quivered as you came, your voice shaking as you did. Alicent kept going, eating you out until she was satisfied. Your legs gave out, dropping you in a pile on top of her. You laid there, letting her wrap her arms around you as you caught your breath. 

"Did I do good?" You laughed, leaning forward to kiss her. "You were amazing,” you peppered kisses on her face, eliciting the cutest giggles you’ve ever heard. You rested your head on her chest, listening to her heartbeat. Her fingers played with your hair as you both laid there, tangled in each other's arms.

Last night had been one of the most out of character nights of Alicent’s life. She never invited someone over, let alone hooked up with someone. It was new, it was exciting, it was also borderline terrifying. Now that she was alone again her thoughts could once again consume her. 

You texted her back, at the very least you weren’t ghosting her. That eased the part of her that was afraid the sex was so bad you would never speak to her again. But now there were other things that bothered her. Your question, to be more specific. “Would you want to be my girlfriend?” 

It was too soon to do anything drastic, like a real relationship. Did she want that? The idea of being in a relationship with you was something that sounded nice in her head, But would it be good in reality. Not only was she freshly widowed as well as struggling to come to terms with her sexuality. By now, she should be over caring about what other people thought… She wasn’t over it in the slightest. 

There was still this guilt and overwhelming anxiety that was holding her back, the same things that held her back her entire life.  Alicent laid in her bed, trying to figure out how to answer your text... “I’m not sure if I’m ready, yet.” She wanted to say more, but her thoughts were quickly turning into a jumbled mess. 

“I used to tutor Aegon in mathematics… I’m very patient;)” Alicent rolled her eyes at the winky face, feeling the corners of her mouth twitch into a smile. “But…  I bought two tickets to the Bahamas last week… and my mom canceled so there’s an opening.” Her fingers hovered over the screen, she had never been to the Bahamas before. 

To be fair, she had never been anywhere but home. Alicent wasn’t one to drop everything and go on vacation… 

You made her want to.

Her thumb hovered over the send button for a moment.

Why was this so difficult?

She was free now; she could leave anytime she wanted.

So why did she keep waiting?

She could just let her phone fall out of her hand and pretend she didn’t see the text.

It took everything in her power to hit send, “I’d love too:)” 

You had been talking to each other every day for weeks. You’ve gone on several more ‘dates,’ which all ended in someone’s bedroom. She hadn’t ever felt this happy, but right now she was freaking the f out. She might have under-packed or maybe over packed her suitcase. What if the swimsuit didn’t fit like it did in the store? Should she have brought snacks? What if she forgot to lock the house? 

The airport was crowded to the point it made everything feel excruciatingly hot. Maybe it was her anxiety that was making her hot. Alicent glanced around at everyone, a million scenarios running through her head. There was no reason for her to be this nervous. Except there were a thousand reasons, she’s never left the country, the plane could crash, and maybe you wouldn’t show up. 

The last one wasn’t realistic. You promised to be waiting at the terminal. You always kept your promises, so she had no reason to worry. But what if you changed your mind? What if the flight was canceled? Or you got sick and didn't feel up to flying.

Was her mind just coming up with different scenarios so she wouldn’t get on the plane? Maybe she should turn around and go home. No, she was free now, she was finally over all the bad that happened. So, there was no reason to not get on the plane.

She had been so caught up in her own thoughts she didn't realize they called her boarding group. She slowly made her way to the gate, getting in the very back of the line. Alicent glanced around the terminal, no sign of you anywhere. She started picking at her fingers, a bad habit. When she was younger, she used to dig at them until they bled. 

The line moved at an excruciatingly slow pace. Every second felt like an hour and every step felt like a mile. However, she had made it to her seat on the plane in one piece.  She was able to get a window seat, something she was thankful for. At least if something bad happened Alicent could watch the plane crash into the waves.

You still hadn’t shown up and her heart rate showed no signs of going down. She could turn back right now, walk off this plane like nothing happened. She could go back to her old life, tucked away safely in her home. She could stop taking risks, what was she even trying to prove? There were thousands of excuses to turn back, and she was using them all. 

By letting this plane take off it meant a new beginning, a real one. The real first step, proof she was living differently and for herself. That scared her, did she even deserve to live for herself? What was her worth if she wasn’t serving someone else? Her fingers dug deeper into the bed of her nails; this was a stupid fucking idea. 

Alicent heard the flight attendant preparing to close the doors, She glanced down at her leg, preparing to jump out of this seat and run out the door. 

Back home.

Back to safety.

Back to what she was used to. 

“Hey! Sorry I took so long I was sat in the wrong seat,” your voice was soft and sweet like honey. Alicent turned around, staring into your eyes. You were gorgeous, to the point it made her temporarily forget what was going on in her head. "You made it," she spoke breathlessly, realizing she had been holding her breath the entire time. 

“I wouldn’t miss going on a trip with you for the world.” You smiled at her, intertwining your fingers with her own. A sense of calm washed over her, like the waves hitting the sand in the early morning. She finally let herself settle back into the seat, letting her eyes flutter close.

This was okay.

She could do this.

This is freedom. 

Alicent Hightower was finally living, 

For herself.

#alicent hightower #alicent hightower fanfic #alicent hightower imagine #alicent hightower x reader #Alicent Hightower x you #alicent hightower smut #Alicent Hightower fluff #alicent x reader #alicent imagine #alicent x you #alicent smut #alicent fic #Alicent fluff #modern hotd #hotd fic #hotd au

[lemon-idol]

✰ booth seat | andrew kreiss

NSFW, afab! reader, you/your pronouns, wc: 4.7K, fast paced (i just wanna fuck him bro) In which the stoic and gruff Train Conductor and the Agent (you) use their time alone wisely. third POV (them/themself) on ao3 !! Train Conductor is described to be smug and cocky ehe get it

BTW I’M FIXING THE FORMAT I KNOW IT LOOKS WEIRD 😭😭

The rattling of the infinite train brings Andrew out of his thoughts.

There was a new addition to the train that had been plaguing his mind as of late.

He knew that you knew that he has been suspecting you. Which is probably why he finds himself always lingering near you throughout the endless night. He could feel your burning gaze everytime he strolled past the quarters you were staying in- not that he minded the attention. Which leads us to his current position. With the yearn for your gaze again, Andrew finds himself walking down the familiar hallway where your room was stationed.

Though on the side eyeing the designated window, he doesn’t find you in your compartment this time, which causes him to lift an eyebrow. As if his mind were an open book, it’s slammed closed after he feels a tap on his shoulder. Turning, his eyes land on the lanky figure of the Sheriff before him. The blonde’s permanent smile didn’t waver nor did it grow as he raised three fingers and motioned with his other hand to the door behind Andrew. Grateful, yet slightly embarrassed at being found out, the gruff man huffs through his nose and leads the way towards the following car.

He nods to you, the Agent, as he passes by and sits at the dining table behind them.

How the Sheriff was suspicious of you, but not Andrew yet leaves him a little puzzled. He knew Grantz would attempt to ask about the Agent’s mission and the lead up on how they appeared on the train, so he knew his interest as Conductor would not seem odd.

Although before he can lean back comfortably, he notices the fidgeting before Victor could even begin to pry out any information. This causes Andrew to clear his throat before standing up. The booth cushions squeak as they rise again for his company. “If you are too uncomfortable with talking to them, I’ll do it for you. Don’t rush your work, Mr. Grantz,” he clarifies, taking his coat off to place it on the back of the booth.

The blonde bows his head in return, mumbling out “Thank you, sorry”. Despite being a Conductor, Victor is aware of the albino’s experience. He is a quiet man but he can keep conversation when it comes to interrogations. Knowing that he has all the time in the world on the train, Grantz easily surrenders to sharing his work.

The blonde’s head snaps back up as if he had a lightbulb spark above his head, “That reminds me, a child was accompanying them too, right? Is it alright if I go speak with him while you interrogate (L-Name)?”. The broad man nods, “I do not mind- in fact, I prefer working alone in these situations.” Victor nods in return, relieved for his senior’s understanding of his well-being.

He bends down near the table in the narrow row to gather his dark leather case and give Wick a small rub on the nose.

Patting the back of his uniform as he heads to the door, he stops to bid farewell at the Conductor. The albino interrupts before he can speak, however, “Oh, I would like to mention, you do not need to come back here. I am sure that I will wrap this all up in a bit so you can head back to the first car after speaking to the child”.

The Sheriff's smile seems to widen in admiration at his confidence, “Alright, good luck and goodnight”. He nods to you and you respond back with a polite smile as he inserts his fingers into the opening once again and descends into the lit hallway after sliding the door shut.

Andrew waits a moment before walking towards the door. His uniform crinkles as he reaches up to the clips holding the curtains and releases them. Now, there will be no onlookers peering into the dining car as it was reserved for the very few staff anyway. Setting the clips aside, he walks back to where you are sitting, crossing his arms and leans against the clothed table.

Moments pass and you two are still gazing at each other, waiting for the other to speak up.

You sigh and rest your head on your hands, “So, what is it that you need out of me?”

Removing his gloves slowly, Andrew’s expression stayed the same, although the bottom of his eyes seemed to curl up just a bit to indicate the ghost of a smile. You raise an eyebrow as the Conductor strides to the booth seat, abandoning the silk white gloves onto the table before you and places a single hand on your jaw. He places a knee onto the booth seat before leaning down so there was only a bit of room left between your faces. Andrew runs his thumb back and forth on your cheek and you suppress a shiver at the feel of the gentle and cold cradle.

“Depends on how much I can get out of you.”

At that statement, you tilt your head up further to respond, “However much you need.”

Well, it seemed like he needed your cum out of you by the way you found yourself on top of him not long after.

You straddle the man’s lap, your plush thighs resting on either side of his.

It didn’t take long for you to give into his charm, but the other way goes around too. Hell, he even turned away their best (and only) officer just for the opportunity to get you two alone.

“Is this alright?”

“Kind of too late to ask now.” he scoffed, though the grip he had on your hips opposed the tone of his statement, relieved that you took the step forward.

“Hm,” your lips quirk up a bit before leaning in closer, your noses right by each other as you whispered, “Don’t act like you didn’t start this.” Preferring to get his dick wet rather than talking, Andrew closes the last bit of space and indulges in the tightened grip that was at the base of his neck. Your lips move against each other in a desperate cling, tongues slightly brushing the other’s lips but never fully entering. His lips leeching onto your bottom lip almost fooled you into thinking it was that of a lover’s embrace.

You felt the vibration of his groan on your lips when you ground your hips against his in search of slight friction, though it was hard to seek due to his uniform. His chapped lips collided with yours wonderfully, your tongue providing the nourishment he needed. With each move of his lips, his goal was seemingly to rid of the air in your lungs as you felt them begin to burn a bit. Hearing you inhale sharply through your nose had him pushing his head further into you, tongue sneaking out to pry your mouth open

You move back and smile a bit as he chases your lips, slightly annoyed that you ended the session so early. You tug at both of your guys’ collars to indicate that you want the hindrances gone. He rolls his crimson eyes but complies with your request seeing at how hard you were panting; seriously, you’re an Agent but your lungs couldn’t last that long? He begins to wonder if you were a behind the scenes agent rather than on the field. Yet he can’t help but bring his lips to yours again, purposely creating a small smack and letting his lips linger after separating.

Andrew took his time before his hands reached for your collar. Andrew did not indulge in the idea of him and his partner being fully unclothed; it felt too vulnerable, too exposed. Though he does have an exception if they’re in bed where they’re both covered with a blanket. He believed that clothes are what makes beauty stand out more, that they are simply displayed to frame people’s bodies. Similar to a red curtain unveiling the wonders, joy, and surprises of a play.

He leans forward to capture your lips again, occupying his hands by unbuttoning the mahogany shirt you were wearing. You jolted here and there whenever his bare, cold hands would caress your stomach as he moved down. He removes a hand to gently lay it onto your burning back and leans you over the edge of the table.

With you spread out and disposed to him, he can finally indulge into his fantasies. He grips the sides of your covered chest and presses them together as if he were a cat making metaphorical biscuits. He lays small pecks on your neck and trails down to the skin that your undergarment failed to cover; as much as he wanted to feed on you, it was far too cold to let them out. He opens his mouth and closes it all around the top of the chest as your skin sunk into his mouth, he is mimicking making out with the soft bosom. His thumbs make lazy circles around the nipples through the garment and you let out small sighs to encourage his ministrations. His teeth graze the skin each time, always on the verge of leaving a mark. But Andrew knew how dangerous it was to claim something on this train, something he has dreaded ever since his gaze landed on the ethereal being before him.

You let him play around a bit more before tapping and letting out an airy giggle at the furrow of his eyebrow. He gives himself a few more love bites and licks before he lifts his head from in between your breasts. He lets his chin rest in the valley of them, looking at you quizzically through one half lidded eye. You smile a little as you pet his head before speaking, “It’s a little unfair that I’m the only one semi-uncovered, don’t you think?”

The Conductor pretends to ponder for a moment before sighing, clicking his teeth three times to mimic a “tsk” sound. “It’s not unfair, I am simply doing my duty of revealing your secrets as part of the interrogation,” he replies, before continuing his doting on your chest. You let out a huff of amusement before you lift yourself up from the table and cradle his head as he refuses to move from your chest and slide onto his lap again, “You know, maybe they should interrogate you too.”

You glide your hand along his jawline before dipping under his chin to peck his neck. You move your face back up to his where his defined milky face waits and lightly grip his hollow cheeks together. “You’re not exactly truthful to your staff either,” you whisper as his uncovered eye narrows at the implication.

Placing his hands under your thighs, he made a motion to move you up to strip you of the dress pants and undergarments you were wearing. However, the liminal space only allows the clothing to get to their knees.

You’re not as bothered about this as Andrew is but he lets it slide as he indulges in your addictive lips once again. He moves one of his hands from your hips to in between your legs and runs two of his fingers up and down your slick to gather some up. You shudder at the ghost of his touch before wrapping your arms around his neck and giving his head a small squeeze to get him to stop teasing. He slowly departs from the kiss and instead moves to smooth lingering kisses around your mouth. He does it as an attempt to comfort you as he finally inserts the two fingers into you.

He’s patient with it, though he’s having a hard time controlling himself as it practically sucks him in with little resistance.

“I don’t even have to do much, hm?”

“Yeah...hah. I put in a bit of effort and made it easier for you,” you retaliated as he continued to softly press kisses on your jaw before snapping down to your collarbone and digging his teeth into your skin, his tongue then leaving a streak to soothe the sudden attack. Andrew proceeded to curl the fingers that were inside of you. He repeated the process at an agonizing pace, but the sudden force when he reached deep was enough to make you sigh in pleasure into the crown of his head. The arm that was wrapped around you tightened in an attempt to bring you even closer.

With his large hand practically cupping your crotch at this point, he uses his thumb to move one of the folds to reveal your clit. He moved the hand that was on your waist down to your lower back to push your hips forward. He pressed the heel of his other hand onto your crotch, followed by circular motions as his fingers paused inside of them. The addition of his callous hands on where you truly wanted it made you gasp and grasp his shoulders as your forehead fell onto his. Andrew stared at your flushed expression; the slight twitch of your flaming cheekbones, the open mouth where your tongue almost came out, and the disorientation of your eyes had him gaping. He almost stopped altogether to just simply cherish a view he didn’t think he’d get tonight.

You slightly grit your teeth and let out a whimper to signal the lack of coordination in his movements. He heard your dejected whine and he attempted to move, however he found it hard to do so in the cramped booth. He clicks his teeth as he settles to focusing on stimulating your clit; it had you jolting your hips and your breath quickened at the same time as he sped up. The contact of the burning moans on his ear had shivers travel down his spine and he found himself squirming a bit as well. His pants couldn’t hold much longer either, it was getting painful for him.

As you kept letting out broken moans above him, he felt your thighs enclosing around him which gave him the hint that you were about to cum. Andrew let the two fingers go in till the knuckle where he moved them in opposite directions, attempting to open you for him. He felt you open your mouth once again as if to speak, to warn him of what was coming, but he paused his motions. He tossed you an apologetic gaze the moment you slumped against him in disappointment of not receiving your climax when you were so close to it.

“As much as I’d love to see your expression, it might be easier and less tiring for you to move the other way,” he grumbles into your cheek. His arm lets go of its steel grip and he removes his hand from where it belonged, leaning back to give you space to turn around. You give him an unimpressed look as you try to catch your breath and lift yourself with shaky legs. Without shame, Andrew watched the display of your ass before you settled down into his lap again after turning around. Andrew notices the imprints on your skin where his touch was, his gaping mouth twitching upwards at the corner before placing his hands onto your sides once more.

With your loosened button down, he takes the opportunity to move it down to your forearms, kissing the skin that the shirt slowly revealed. He moves his mouth back up to your nape to nibble here and there, causing you to chuckle and cup the side of his head. He tightens his arms around you in a hug, his broad build encasing you from the biting cold that lingers in the car.

“You ready?” he mumbles into your flaming ear; you hum and eagerly nod. He pinches your thigh and moves his other hand up to cup your jaw, “Nuh-uh, I need a verbal confirmation.” You roll your eyes despite your heart fluttering at his demand for assurance and turn your head to the side to make eye contact with that gleaming ruby of his, “Yes, sir, I am ready to have my insides annihilated by you.”

Andrew holds back from barking a laugh, “You’re lucky you’re cute, that phrase was a little cringy.” You turn your head back to face forward, to avoid having a sore neck (though those “soft bites” were starting to make themselves known), and replied with “I know you’d love to, and maybe even more.”

“Hm, you got me there”, and wasting no more time, Andrew grips your hips once again and pushes them up so they hover just above his tip so he can use his other hand to grip his dick. The hand on the grip smooths over the hipbone when he feels your legs wobble a little. Knowing he was on the bigger side, Andrew attempted his best at inserting slowly but your anticipation rattled throughout your entire body. Your mouth began to open little by little from the pressure of being spread, your expression twitching in frustration of his size. Yet in the brief moment of numbness, you are still able to register the guttural groan that escapes Andrew.

Suddenly, you can feel Andrew further stiffen due to realizing too late that there were footsteps outside. Both of you were too caught up in the moment and it causes you to move in shock as you hear the farthest door on the other end of the car slide open.

“Shit-”

“Ah!”

In a frantic and panicked motion, you slam down onto him, both of your guys’ hips slotting into each other which creates an unwanted “slap!”. Andrew shoves his face into your upper back in an attempt to not let out a noise. Your thighs trembled at the uncomfortable stretch, wanting to have gone slowly, but the Sheriff’s entrance made you both lose whatever composure you were clinging to. Andrew let out a low groan into your neck before scrambling to get both his coat and a notepad out onto the table to set up a scene. He draped his navy coat over your laps and struggled to keep the pen still.

Victor waddled up to the booth you were both sitting at, holding his own trusty notepad. Andrew straightened up the closer the Sheriff got, pulling back the coat enough that it wrapped around his own hips. Despite your strange position, the Sheriff gave a light smile nonetheless before flipping over the notepad in his hands- maybe the temperature in this car was lower than in the others?

The Conductor eyed the writing and the notepad, ignoring the burning side eye you were giving him at his lackluster response in driving the Sheriff away. You hate how composed he seems, while you were here holding your breath, anticipating for any friction. In your frustration, you subconsciously tightened your insides which caused Andrew to stutter as he began to respond to the Sheriff’s writing.

Feeling the throb of his dick in you had you smirking behind your hand before it was your turn to stiffen up again when you feel a slight graze on your clit- a silent threat to get you to stay still.

Despite being able to respond to all of Victor’s written questions, the Conductor’s mind was elsewhere; he thought about how warm the person on top of him was, how soft they were on top yet rough below, the stretch marks on the insides of their thighs worth memorizing. Ah, thank whatever God was out there that he had experience on how to keep his composure due to his job, but it was hanging on by a thread at this point.

Most of what Victor was saying came in one ear and left the other, his mind too preoccupied with his current sensitivity.

He shows Andrew the notepad again with what was conversed with the child. But upon noticing the half-hearted nods and “Got it”s from Andrew, the Sheriff grows quiet. Victor concludes what he needed to say and bows his head as a silent farewell. Relieved about the possibility of getting into action again, Andrew tries to give him an apologetic smile, knowing he is not the best with words (but neither with expressions…).

Andrew shuffles forward to hand the blonde the notepad, the friction having your thighs close and meet each other. The moment Victor turns away, you shuffle your hips in a seesaw motion, similar to a runway walk, unable to resist the irritation growing inside of you. Andrew’s lips pull back, revealing slight fangs as his hand traveled up your front, fingers spread out as he used his palm to push against your abdomen, driving you further back into him. You stifle the groan that threatened to come out from your throat. Victor’s honey but sharp eyes glance over at you, finally noting your low but consistent sounds.

Your eyes crinkle while trying to maintain a wobbly smile in order to mask the turmoil your body was in to just be railed properly. About to write his concern, Grantz finally caught a glimpse of your attempt to hide the cleavage that was revealed from the open shirt. His body perks up as straight as an exclamation point before he scrambles out of the car faster than before, blood draining from his face but rushing to his ears.

Andrew’s attentive ears focused on Victor’s retreating footsteps; the car was silent aside from the rattling of the windows as the train blasted through the snowstorm. Confirming that there was no other noise besides that, he leans back, his hands reclaiming their throne on your hips as he lifts you and pulls back his hips as far as the seat allows him, observing his dick leaving your pussy halfway. Ha, it seems that staying in the still position is best to mold you into his shape now that your body begs for what he has to give.

He stays still for a moment and your coming protest is replaced by a low “ah” as he pushes himself back in. He repeats the motion, causing you to move your hips to begin bouncing each time your hips collide. Gripping the table to use as a stabilizer, you can’t help but crumble over the edge of it, that growing itch inside of you finally starting to relinquish. Being so full while hearing the low grunts of the man behind you has your insides twisting. You would be lying if you were to say that that itch didn’t begin growing once you saw more and more of him the past week you arrived. Though there was another catalyst to your neediness.

Having no one else to relieve the growing tension might also be the cause of why Andrew couldn’t help but grip tighter around your body. He wraps his arm below your breasts, his muscles flexing under his button up. The regret of not completely taking off your clothes seeps in for a second before it leaves again when a low moan leaves you. A burst of feeling broke in him, but it was soon muffled by the intensity of lust. His lips attached themselves to your skin in an attempt to memorize your taste, to maybe become one. The overwhelming crave for intimacy was what brought you two together in the first place and honestly? He wouldn’t have it any other way. Which is why he cared a little less about potentially being caught and let the dam break.

Such paced and shallow movements left all proper sentences to dissolve into the frigid air.

Drowning in your own bliss, you’re a little surprised at the sudden noises that emerged from Andrew’s throat. His rapid breathing and the drum of his heart could be felt throughout your entire body. You respond to his passion with your own airy groans and whines, rolling your hips to meet him the more you became lost in each other’s heat. Despite being so talkative earlier, the Conductor lost the ability to say anything, only mumbling out small praises and sighs.

“Almost…”

Was all you needed to know as Andrew’s gaping mouth made its home where your ear meets your jaw. You couldn’t help the ego boost that ran through your body knowing you reduced such a rigorous man to a grunting mess. Yet it passed when you felt the crawling sensation that went through your lower parts and braced for the impact of that euphoria.

Your body processed the climax before your brain could; your body jolted and tightened in an attempt to be replenished and the man behind you slammed his hips two more times before going stiff as well. Your eyes fluttered as you felt his cum spurt along your insides, the odd sensation made your hips move a bit as if to rub it properly in you. Your legs twitch in sync with his own small thrusts as he accidentally stimulates both of you even further.

Then you two stay still, your bodies adjusting and remembering the pulse and sensation of one another. Chests move up and down, minds recovering from the epitome of bliss.

With your mind still a bit frazzled, you mumbled, “Next time I should be quieter…”. Upon hearing this, Andrew leaned forward to peck your ear; you shiver as his hot breath travels down your neck, “Oh? So there will be a next time. We can go for a proper round right now if you’re that desperate for more.”

You ponder for a moment before your mind flashes back to the quiet officer that stumbled on you two earlier. “This might not be the best place to continue, even if I wouldn’t mind having an audience,” you sighed as you leaned forward to remove the soft member inside of you, despite wanting it to stay there. Andrew raises an eyebrow at the end of your statement before moving up as well and reaching over to the middle of the table where there’s a canister of napkins. He grabs a couple in between each finger before settling back into the seat and gripping the ass of you who is still bent over. “Stay still,” he whispers out before dragging one of the napkins up your crotch to soak up your slick. You jump at the caress as you feel your pussy still tingling. He continues to wipe your folds and clean any evidence of his cum, much to his displeasure.

Forgetting that he didn’t reply to your sentence earlier, the Conductor says in a sultry tone, “But you know…that is a good idea”. You didn’t even need to turn to see the faint mischievous smile on his face.

Once he finishes with wiping you clean, he graciously pulls up your underwear and dressing pants before giving your ass a smack and reveling in the recoil. Your brow twitches before you step sideways to get out of the booth, putting most of your weight on the table. The Conductor follows you and gathers his items before placing them back into the slightly damp coat that had fallen victim to his sweat. Placing it in his shoulders again, he places a hand on your lower back and turns to you to stare down at your flustered state.

Not being able to resist the man’s quiet antics any further, you reach out your hand to cup his hollow cheek. He gets the message and leans down, your lips meeting once more in a soft press. No rush, no tongue running past their teeth, just a simple lock that lasts a few seconds before you both gradually pull away.

With the final kiss of the night, you step back away from each other, still feeling the lingering warmth Andrew had on your skin. You both walk forward and past each other; him towards the front car and you to your sleeping quarters. Neither of you needed to look back because you knew that you would see each other again; it is the inevitable fate on this forever running train.

#✰ divider by cafekitsune #andrew kreiss x reader #idv x reader #identity v x reader #andrew x reader #idv smut #gravekeeper x reader #gravekeeper idv #andrew kreiss

[sehtoast]

Hii! Id like a request!

Could you perhaps do a scenario where the reader gets stranded at an airport (Perhaps with panic attack)?

I'm experiencing this currently and thinking about Homelander is helping, Somehow

i'm so sorry you had to go through that anon ❤️ homie has an odd way of making life's woes suck a little less. apologies that this took as long as it did (and also i've never been in an airport before so idk if this is even the right vibe adfkljdfk), but i hope it's still enjoyable and i hope your airport adventure ended happily.

Oh, if you thought it couldn’t get worse, you were so wrong. 

Cancellations across the board, a raging snow storm outside, disgruntled people everywhere, and far too much noise for your overloaded senses.  This is what you get for flying out to go see a friend in the dead of winter.

It wasn’t like you could call an uber to the nearest hotel, either.  Pretty much nobody was going anywhere in this storm, and you’ve been here for hours now. God, you should’ve picked a morning flight, but you just haaaad to sleep in.

Eventually it started getting to you.

You’re alone, surrounded by angry people, in the middle of fuck knows where, with no guarantee of getting home or if your ticket is still going to be honored and–

You don’t even notice your breathing growing frantic until it’s overpowering and all you can do is hug your knees and try to stay calm–

You reach for your phone and send off a text to the one person who would maybe be awake at this hour.

God I’m fucking stuck here and I miss you and I don’t know what to do.

Your chest feels tight and your mouth is dry.  You hold your phone tight, cringing at the battery level.

7%.

You’d love to charge it, but the iPad parents are currently occupying every outlet in the area and if you hear one more child scream because they couldn’t watch their damn skibidi toilet videos–

It buzzes and you unlock it like a madman.

Told ya you should’ve flown air-Homelander.

You smile, warmth trickling in to fill your otherwise endless pit of anxiety.

It would’ve been too cold on my face :(  and you’d be carrying all my luggage.  Besides, I couldn't ask you to fly all this way.

The next response comes almost instantly.  Well, as instantly as it can with how slow he types.

Picky picky.  Where are you?

In the lounge-ish area.  On the floor, because I guess I picked the busiest airport in the world…

2%.  You’re almost ready to snag one of those outlets and suffer the blubbering.

Shucks, that’s a bummer.  

It’s not so–

You wince as your screen flickers, waves of sadness overtaking you in conjunction with that dreaded anxiety.  Gone is your only lifeline, and it hits you that you’ll have technically left him on read too.  You should’ve told him about your battery– fuck, fuck, fuck.

You hug your knees again and shove your useless earbuds in, hoping to dampen some of the noise.  It doesn’t work, and you can distinctly make out the sound of a man loudly demanding a full refund.

You try to imagine Homelander.  What tales would he have for you once you returned home?  How much trouble did he stir up while you were away?  Probably the usual, but… you were supposed to see him tomorrow morning when you got home.

God, that thought makes you ache for home even more.

You shut your eyes and attempt a nap.

You try and try to sleep to no avail.  Just when you think you might get a wink of rest, you hear audible gasps and shouting.  Your eyes shoot open, expecting the absolute worst, but all you see are two imposing sets of red boots.

“You forgot to text me back,” he says nonchalantly.  

Tears of joy bite at your eyes as you look up, and you all but launch yourself off the ground and into his arms.

“M’sorry,” you mumble against him.  “Battery died.”

“Mm, if you say so. I feel like this was all part of your elaborate plan to get me here.”  Homelander pulls away just slightly to look down at you, a twinkle of sympathy in his eyes- a very rare sight.  “Well, I know I can’t fly you home, because you’ll turn into a big popsicle, but… there is a hotel nearby and you do deserve a nice place to lay your head.”

Your heart feels so warm it could melt the blizzard outside.

“You just gotta tolerate a little cold.” He grins, winking at you.  “And air-Homelander doesn’t have delays.  No luggage fees either.”

You throw yourself back into the hug, squeezing him with all you’ve got.  

“You’re the best,” you whisper in his ear.

“Yeah, I know.”  He replies, uncaring of the spectacle you two must be.  “Now let’s get you cozy.”

#homelander #homelander x reader #homelander fanfiction #antony starr #the boys #request

[teabutmakeitazure]

Closing Shift

>Yan! Demon! Childe x Fem! Reader

(Modern au and supernatural au mixed together)

Warnings: borderline harassment (?), a little blood, suggestive jokes, horrifying murders (not described in detail), mentions of cults

Word count: 6.2k

The odd regular isn't who you think he is.

Part 2

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Higher education is hard. It kicks your ass even harder when you’re from a humble background. A majority of your classmates enjoy the freedom of financial stability when you have to work two jobs with your studies. It sucks, but you were born into the family you were, which is something you can’t change. It’s best to not complain and just work around it.

Besides, you’re smart, so you still get a pretty decent GPA and end up maintaining your scholarship. Despite all that and trusting your mind to not betray you before midterms, you can’t help but anxiously glance at the clock again and again. The closing shift in the café is as easy as it is agonising. The lack of patrons means less work, but sometimes the occasional customer who stays past closing time comes in.

Being the person you are, you’d like to be done on time so that you can sleep early and wake up early to study. However, some ginger haired idiot just came in exactly 10 minutes before your shift ends. It's not even the first time he's done this. He comes in at this same exact time every damn day and has been doing so for the past few months. You're absolutely seething with rage everytime he walks in, bell chiming as a smile makes way on his face while he sings your name. You found it peculiar at first but now it's annoying.

He must be some kind of working man who stays late in his office building. Why else would he be here at this hour? That too in those formal clothes with his tie hanging loose. It's honestly awkward when he's the only patron inside. Sometimes he makes nice conversation. Most times he prefers to sit at a distance, mostly quiet just to end up chatting with you a little before he leaves.Those lifeless blue eyes often glance over at you as you sit behind the counter staring at your laptop.

The first time you saw them up close was the first time you got chills from making eye contact with someone. It creeped you out but you never questioned it. Corporate office workers all have their souls sucked out. He should've chosen a better career.

Even now as he sits with his coffee, you can't help but feel his eyes on you again and again. The clock shows 11:06 and you're just waiting for him to leave so that you can as well. It doesn't help that his phone is in one hand, scrolling despite outright staring at you. Though he's a regular, you never asked his name. You aren't fond of the idea of getting too chummy with strangers, let alone men.

Still, his staring isn't malicious. It's kind of like an introverted person looking at someone from a distance, waiting for the right time to strike up conversation. So when you catch him looking at you again, you sigh and resign to boredom. It's not that he's ever said anything bad to you, so why not?

"Is there something wrong?"

He startles a little at your question, your voice slightly resonating through the empty café. He's seated a bit away from the counter so you saw his shoulders tense for a moment before his head turned to look at you.

"You keep glancing here." You smile at his silence, "I figured something might be the matter."

Leaning back into his seat, he casually eyes you with a grin. "Sorry, it's just that I like to keep an eye on my surroundings.”

“Surroundings, sure.” With a click of your tongue, you turn off your laptop. He’s probably almost done with his coffee by now. It’s best to have everything packed so that you’re out the door quicker.

“Hey, you never know. The city is dangerous at night.”

“You’re a man. I’m sure the least of your worries is getting mugged, not that it’s probable since this is a pretty safe city.”

He shakes his head, “Not dangerous for me, but for you.”

You had to do a double take at his statement. He’s worried about you? The city is buzzing with life till two in the morning in the summer. Plus there is a police station just two buildings away. The main reason you accepted this job was because it’s safe and honestly, you’ve never had a weird customer yet.

“Are you a student?”

You raise a brow at his question but decide to humour him anyway. “Yes. I am. Not a highschool student though. However, I will still report you if you ask me for my number for a cheap ‘modelling’ recruitment.”

The ginger head bursts into laughter at your straightforwardness. Picking up his cup, he walks over to the counter as he smiles appreciatively.

“I’m no recruiter, but I do hope to be a friend. My name's Childe by the way. You never asked so…"

"Really?" You give him a weird look as you bill him for the coffee. "Your parents birthed a boy and decided to name him Childe?"

"It's not my real name, if that helps."

You scoff as you close up the register for the day. Checking the lock of the back door, you find Childe nowhere to be seen when you come out of the employee room. He probably left. Anyone tired after a long day of work would want to go home as fast as possible. Swiping your ID at the scanner, you lock the main door after switching the sign to ‘closed’. The cleaning has already been taken care of so you merrily get on your way just to see Childe with his hand in his pocket, the other one leisurely scrolling his phone, leaning against a nearby wall.

You hug your bag closer to yourself and pretend to not notice him as you walk by. He, however, does notice and quickly jogs up to you. To the people passing by, he probably looks like the average person trying to catch up to a friend.

“Hi again.” He pockets his phone as he walks beside you. Albeit at a distance, his eyes are still trained on you as you reply with a meek hello. “Can I walk you to the station? I realise that you’d rather not let me walk you home since we don’t know each other much.”

You’re just realising this now but he never brings a bag with him. He looks like an office worker so why doesn’t he have a bag with him?

“[Name]?”

“Oh, uh sure. It’s a few blocks away. I live in the campus dorms, so you can’t walk me home even if I wanted.”

There’s an odd chill in the air. Was it always this chilly this time of year? Maybe it’s just the sea breeze.

“You know,” he says, “there’s a looot of creepy stuff going on here. Remember that time I showed you an article on that missing guy?”

“I remember not being able to sleep after that, yes.”

“Haha, yeah. Well, they just found his body.”

You stop abruptly in your tracks, the ginger head soon following as well. Taking a step back, concern spreads over your expression as you nervously gulp. “Look, Childe. I don’t know you well but you seemed like a fun guy up until now. If you’re going to creep me out at almost midnight, I’ll walk home by myself.”

An older passerby slows down as he watches you look at Childe in apprehension. Eyeing the young man with caution, he stops a few feet behind you in case the scene gets bad. Childe, however, is quick to laugh it off and apologise, prompting the man to continue on his way when you become relaxed.

“Sorry it’s just that I’m really into this stuff.”

“Seems like it.” You continue walking under the streetlights, peaking at Childe now and then. He doesn’t seem bad to you honestly. Besides his supposed penchant for saying some creepy stuff and having the creepiest conversation topics, he’s not bad. He never even makes a mess in the café so maybe you’re biassed because of that too.

“Hey, [Name]?”

“Yeah? It better not be something creepy.”

“No no. I’ve learnt my lesson. No creepy conversations with girls. Anyway, if it’s not too much trouble… could we exchange contacts?”

“Before that, tell me something. Do you work somewhere? What’s with the office getup but no work bag? And why do you always come in before closing time? What’s up with always ordering coffee? There’s such a nice menu! Try something new for a change!”

“...Is this an interrogation?”

“You’re asking to be friends, right? Well, answer me.” Twirling your finger, you give him a sly smile as he slows down in contemplation. After a few moments of getting stared at by nearby people for walking so damn slow, he finally speaks.

“I work a nine to five in an office as a data manager, but I have to do overtime to make ends meet since I’m still in student debt. I live near the café, so I usually drop my stuff at home, relax for a bit then come back for coffee. There’s a reason I always order coffee though.”

He catches speed. Now walking at the normal pace, he catches up to you. “I just graduated so this is my first job. I’m still used to drinking coffee at late night hours. It helps me sleep.”

“Wait, how old are you?”

“I’m twenty one!”

The smile looks cute on him. Wait, no. Kill that thought! Murder it in cold blood!

“You must’ve graduated early. The normal age for graduates is twenty two or twenty three.”

“I skipped two grades in middle school.”

“Right.”

A few minutes of silence pass till he starts talking again. He asks you about your degree, what courses you’re taking for them and when you’re expected to graduate. When he drops you off at the subway station, you’re quick to thank him, even going as far as to exchange numbers. There’s something about his spontaneity that you find charming. As you enter the train after he’s gone, you can’t help but feel the temperature get slightly warmer than before. Maybe it’s just your imagination.

-

“Hey there!”

You’re greeted with the voice of a cheerful Childe when you’re mopping the floors. One look at the clock is all it takes for you to grunt in annoyance.

“It’s 10: 54 pm! Ugh, just six more minutes late and I would’ve been able to close.”

“Actually…”

“Mhm?”

The mop in your hand is quickly put back in its stand as he stands there awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. Blue eyes look anywhere but you as he continues with a chuckle.

“I was hoping you could just get me a coffee ready to go. Then I’ll walk you to the station… like yesterday.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. Everything was fine yesterday. If he was a creep or just someone looking for a date, he would’ve texted you by now, but he didn't. It’s not like it’s desolate on the streets either. A man even stopped yesterday when he saw you looking apprehensive. There are always people outside so you guess that it’ll be fine.

“Alright. The usual coffee?”

“Yup!”

Soon you’ve handed the coffee to Childe, double checked the back door lock, put the cleaning equipment back in its place, swiped your ID on the scanner and locked the main door after turning the sign to ‘closed’. There’s the same temperature drop from yesterday but with the breeze that just blew, you’re starting to think it’s the sea breeze blowing.

“Shall we?”

You nod at the question, finding it oddly human to see him drink something as mundane as coffee. Honestly with how dead his eyes look he might as well not be human and you’d believe it.

“You should really try the milkshakes, Childe.”

He chuckles, an amused smile now plastered on his face. “I would but then all that gym would go to waste.”

“Once or twice wouldn’t hurt.”

With his index finger and thumb holding his chin, he feigns a contemplative expression. “I guess so.”

Silence fills the air around you both now. However, it’s gone as quick as it came as Childe fills the conversation with lively chatter and jokes. The walk with him feels very short and you almost look at the station with annoyance for cutting the conversation with him.

Just like last time, you brush off the lack of chill around you when Childe leaves. Maybe you should bring a jacket tomorrow.

-

Concerned eyes skim over the headline as a shiver runs down your spine. Five men had gone missing in these past two weeks, all of whom were found dead yesterday with their bodies mutilated beyond recognition. What’s worse is that two of those men you recognise as patrons who frequented the shop.

Safe to say, you’re a little scared.

Whatever is happening is only targeting men, so you should be safe. However, that is a big, fat ‘should’ and honestly, you would rather not take any risks. Reading the rest of the article just makes you feel worse. They were found dead in a building just a block away from this café.

It's not like the feeling leaves you in your dorm either. There's this nagging feeling that you aren't alone. For all you care, it could just be the lack of a roommate. Living alone does sometimes make you paranoid.

Your peripheral vision shows movement, and you freeze at the spot. It’s when a familiar voice calls out to you that your muscles relax.

‘It’s just Childe,’ you tell yourself. There’s no need to be so worked up. Despite your best efforts to appear normal, his lifeless eyes don’t miss the way your hands slightly shake when you type out his order or how your laptop displays the article of the missing men.

“Hey, can you get it ready to go? I’ll drink it as I walk you to the station.”

-

Midterms have ended and winter vacation is in full swing. Unfortunately for you, that also means having to work in full swing instead of visiting your parents. Your eyes skim over the second article of the month about missing men found dead, feeling a little relieved when you get a notification from Childe.

Most of the messages he sends are funny cat videos or random funny animal images from the internet. It’s rare to have a conversation on text since you both see each other everyday, so the both of you settle on sending each other stuff like that.

The bell chimes, signalling that someone had entered the café, and you immediately get up to do your job. Now usually, you would right away go to take their order but looking at the guy who just walked in, you’re tempted to tell him that you’re closed.

First of all, he clearly looks drunk with the way he's wobbling on his feet. Second, his smile is outright creepy. You don’t feel safe even breathing the same air as him.

“Hiya there, cute little coffee maker.”

Gross. You push back any comments, instead trying to do your job. “What can I get for you sir?”

He hums, gruff voice a little too revealing of his age, as his smile widens. With slurred words, he boldly asks for your number, and you mentally gag.

“I’m sorry sir, but I can only give you what’s on the menu. Here,” you push the pamphlet towards him from your side of the counter. “Have a look.”

“Are you on the menu?”

“Only food and drink are available, sir.”

He groans. “You should put yourself there. I’m sure a lot would come running to this café if you were on the menu. I know I would, haha.”

With a sigh, you head for the phone near the employee’s room door. Glancing back at him once, you start dialling the police just to freeze with your finger hardly an inch away from the call button when a voice all too familiar to you calls out at a time earlier than it usually does.

“Hi [Name]!”

Relief washes over you as you turn around, the sight of those dead blue eyes bringing nothing but an assurance of safety. The unwanted customer doesn’t budge, simply staring at you intently with a gaze so dirty not even bleach could cleanse it.

You point to the drunkard standing on the counter. Childe thankfully catches on quickly and makes up a lie about being from the food and drink authority. He says he’s here for a quality check and threatens to arrest the man if he doesn’t leave.

The both of you share a laugh when the man says he’ll be back for the ‘cute little barista’. You’re certain he won’t remember anything after his hangover, so why bother?

That night, when Childe walked you to the station, you shivered the entire way there. Your mind forgot to realise that the additional chill in the air left with him, too busy smiling at the jokes he made.

-

Starting off the new year with finding out that the drunk man who harassed you is dead isn’t ideal. Plus, saying that you’re scared is an understatement.

You’re absolutely terrified.

Most of the men in these killings have been to this café. Additionally, most of them have talked to you. It honestly feels like a curse or some sick coincidence and it’s scaring you. The dead bodies appear anywhere in the city now, in a random abandoned place or dark alleyways, anywhere.

It's even gotten to the point that going to your dorm feels scary. There's still the nagging feeling of being watched, but no one's there except for you. You even had the security guard check for hidden cameras but there was nothing. Having to always come across articles of those killing sprees just made you stop using social media at your dorm, opting to gather information while at your jobs.

You’re not one to believe in the supernatural but after reading so many articles and looking up resources on it yourself, you’re starting to believe it's some kind of cult. There could be some twisted killer out there, but if there is, why haven’t the police found evidence yet?

They haven’t even found evidence that a human is doing all this, which is very fishy considering that this is the 21st century. They have all the latest technologies at their disposal so not being able to find evidence of those being a human’s doing, it’s food for public controversy.

Factoring in all of that, you’ve already handed in your resignation to the manager and have only three more nights to work till you can officially leave.

You just hope all this stops soon.

Tonight, Childe doesn’t order a coffee, simply giving you a sad smile as he watches you lock the main door. As expected, a cold breeze flows and you rub your hands together to warm up. Childe’s lifeless eyes carefully watch your attempts at battling the temperature drop, a carefree smile back on his face within seconds as he walks you through the empty winter streets.

-

Two more nights. They aren’t worth it. You would rather lose a paycheck than deal with that. The bell chimed and you heard someone come in and order a black coffee, even glancing at the figure sitting on a table in the corner but not fully looking because you were too busy mopping the employee room.

Guess what? When you’re done with the coffee, no one is there and there’s a note on the counter that says, “Thanks for looking at me. I’ll make sure your eyes stay preserved.”

You don’t recognise the handwriting. Heck, you don’t even know who that was! Now, you’re struggling to lock the main door as tears fill your eyes, hardly getting any air in your lungs as your ears ring.

This has to be a joke.

‘Please God. Please let this be a prank.’

You didn’t even bother to check the time, immediately grabbing your belongings and sprinting out. However, a voice calling your name has you petrified, the ringing in your ears getting louder and louder as the silhouette of a taller man approaches on the lonesome, foggy winter street.

Without even thinking, you drop to the ground, hands covering your ears as you ask God to save you. Salvation comes in the form of said man dropping a heavy coat onto your shoulders as his calloused hand pets your head. You look up, carefully testing the waters. Your eyes widen in relief as more tears spill out at the sight of Childe’s worried gaze.

Before your mind can even notice the change, the red irises become blue as you blink away the tears.

The oversized winter coat covers your form till your knees when you stand up, and you find yourself melting in its warmth and Childe’s embrace as you let out the remnants of your fear.

“Hey hey. It’s okay. You’re safe here. Deep breaths, [Name]. Deep breaths.”

When you’ve finally returned to your senses, you glance at Childe’s black coat, fisting it as you answer his question of what happened.

He soon explains that he saw a teenager run out of the café. The both of you connect the dots and realise that it’s just a sick prank. Maybe your prayer was heard after all. On the way back, you don’t question why it feels colder than it was when you first left the café. You don’t even question why Childe’s teeth look whiter, canines a little too prominent for comfort.

-

“I’m telling you, [Name]. All the victims are middle aged men. I’m not even 25! I’m safe! Plus, some of them were found to have ties to human trafficking gangs. I’m a respectable member of society so I’m safe.”

You appreciate the sentiment, you really do, but seeing that all the victims are men, you’re worried about Childe. After all, he frequents this café too.

“I’m not convinced. Go home!”

“Nuh uh.”

He crosses his arms with a pout, hair falling into his eyes due to the movement. A hand brushes those strands away and you find yourself somewhat enchanted by the sight. His eyes are beautiful, that much is true, but why do you find yourself unable to look away from his face these days?

“There’s just five minutes left anyway. Why don’t you close early? It wouldn’t make a difference.”

You give in with a sigh.

With a ding, you close up the register, double check the back door’s lock, grab your belongings and swipe your ID. As you lock the main door, you give the café one last look. You had a good time here. Sure, you were alone for the shift, but it was peaceful. Now when classes start again, you won’t have to rush here at night.

The lock clicks into place, and you stuff your hands into your coat pockets. Today, you’re wearing that oversized coat Childe gave you the other day. He said something about a late new year’s gift, but you only accepted it because it’s warm. Totally not because it smells like him.

It’s colder today, you note. Your breath leaves your mouth in puffs, synonymous to the fog, but one glance at Childe in the awkward silence confirms that you’re the only one this cold. The cold and desolate street is empty, save for a few people going about. The streets are always lonelier in winter.

You’re the first to break the silence. “I hope whatever is going on is solved soon.”

“I hope so too.”

“What do you think it is? You know, people have hypothesised that it’s some kind of cult or demon on the loose.”

Childe hums, formulating a reply in his head. “From what I know, there isn’t any evidence of a person doing all this. Maybe the bodies get dumped in those places? That would explain why there’s no signs of the killing.”

“We don’t even have CCTV footage to confirm that they were dumped. They just appear there.”

He doesn’t give a reply and instead slowly creeps his hand towards yours. Upon feeling his finger nudge yours, you welcome the action. Childe’s slender fingers slowly take a hold of your own and now, the two of you hold hands as you walk. A comfortable warmth radiates from his, chasing away the chill from your gloveless fingers.

“Everything will work out,” he reassures you. “I hope you’re not uncomfortable.”

“Not at all.”

A small smile is on your face now, and Childe is absolutely mesmerised by it. He licks his lips at the way he can feel your blood inside the blood vessels of your hand. Just the thought of your heart makes him excited. Oh how he longs to feel your heartbeat through the softness of your chest.

“I think I should tell you this, [Name].”

You blink up at him innocently, slowing down in his lead.

“Well,” he clears his throat, suddenly a little nervous. “My birth name is Ajax. I thought… well, you should know that.”

The nervousness widens your smile and you tenderly brush your thumb across his knuckles.

“It’s a wonderful name. I don’t really know why you didn’t tell me when we first met, but I won’t question it. Is it okay if I start calling you Ajax now?”

He perks up, “Of course!”

You laugh at his sweetness. The two of you continue walking to the station, enjoying the comfortable silence. However, when the station comes into view, you feel something sharp press on the backside of the palm Ajax is holding. You give your held together hands a questioning look just to see nothing. It was probably your imagination.

-

With how he told you his real name yesterday, you were kind of expecting this. Apparently, he didn’t do overtime today and is practically begging you to come meet him for dinner. You don’t think you’re comfortable with having dinner with him yet. What if he doesn’t like the way you eat? Or worse… it gets so awkward that he regrets bringing you out?

After much pleading, he settles for taking you out for hot chocolate from downtown. The both of you decided to meet up at the station, but you found him already there when you got off. As the two of you exit out to the street, you can’t help but find it colder than it was outside your dorm building. Ajax shrugs off the concern saying that it’s more open out here, thus the heavy fog as well. You don’t dwell on it.

When you both enter the shop, you’re instantly hit with the smell of warm coco.

“Here.” Ajax passes you a menu as you sit down. “You can get anything. It’s on me,” he smiles.

“Okay first of all, you’re too darn sweet for your own good. Second, I can pay for myself thank you very much!”

An offended look appears on Ajax’s face. “Absolutely not! As your mate, it is my responsibility to take care of you and pay for you. What good am I if I can’t do that?”

You sputter out a laugh, finding his declaration to be funny. “Mate? What’re you, Australian?”

Ajax pales at the word being pointed out, but soon relaxes when you continue laughing.

“How about this Ajax, You can pay but for only this time! Next time, I’ll pay for myself.”

He grumbles out a ‘fine’, even protesting when you order a simple hot cocoa which was followed by you making fun of him for ordering coffee again. The evening goes well, and the two of you later wander around the city aimlessly in the foggy winter night.

That is when Ajax asks you a peculiar question.

“Have you ever heard of the name ‘Tartaglia’?”

You stop in your tracks, looking to your right to see him staring at you with an emotionless gaze.

“I can’t say I have. Why do you ask?”

“No reason.”

You wait for him to change his mind, but he just resumes walking. Grabbing his coat from the back, you make him stop. “Hey! Don’t leave me curious! Is it something important?”

He simply ruffles his hair, closing one eye as he pouts childishly. “It’s nothing important, just something I found in the library. But if you want to see, you’ll have to stop by my place.”

Honestly, he looks so cute right now you could explode.

“Fine,” you agree. You’ve known him for so long. Stopping by his place for a little while should be fine. Plus, it’s been almost a week since those gruesome killings last popped up. You’re not scared anymore, especially since the feeling of being watched inside your dorm room has also disappeared. There's no reason to be scared, not when you have someone as sweet as Ajax.

The two of you waddle around without a purpose for a while longer till you decide to drop by his apartment for a little while. You honestly didn’t know what you were expecting. It looks like a normal apartment. A tidy open kitchen, a somewhat messy living room with a little balcony, a bathroom right next to the little storeroom and a bedroom.

You leave your - more like Ajax’s - coat hanging on the coat rack and awkwardly sit on a sofa in the living room. After denying a glass of water, you follow Ajax to the entrance of his bedroom as he goes to fetch a book. You can see him rummaging inside his closet from where you're standing.

“The name I asked you about was in this book I found in the library. It’s related to some kind of cult and- ah, where did I put it.”

Awkwardly shifting your weight from one foot to the other, you meekly ask him if he accidentally misplaced it. Ajax replies with a simple shrug and walks past you to the living room. A photo on his nightstand catches your attention but before you can figure out what it is, you’re pushed inside the room.

“Hey! Come on,” you grumble, “I was standing there.”

Looking behind only causes dread to settle in your stomach. Ajax stands in front of the now closed bedroom door. The hand behind his back clicks the lock into place and the lights are suddenly turned off.

“Ajax…?”

He doesn’t move.

“Hey, come on. This isn’t funny.”

Your voice comes out a lot shakier than you would like, the darkness simply scaring you more. By the time your eyes adjust to the scarce moonlight from the window, the silhouette in front of the door is already reaching for you.

With one simple push of his hand, you stumble backwards and fall onto the bed inelegantly. Before you can cry out, two calloused hands pin your wrists to the mattress, and your thrashing legs are subdued by his knees.

“Ajax, what’s going on!?”

Your answer comes in the form of him leaning down, the moonlight falling onto his eyes to show that they’re red, not blue. Nails that are sharp and pointy like claws dig into your wrists and you hear yourself crying out in pain.

“Please,” you exclaim. “What’s gotten into you!”

When Ajax opens his mouth, you notice that his canines are a little too visible to be human while his teeth unnaturally sparkle under the little lighting.

“I’m simply tired of playing nice.”

“Let me go! What have I ever… huh?”

You tense when you feel him lick a stripe up your neck right where your carotid artery is and lick one down where your jugular vein would be. As he stays above you, his mouth moves to your visible collarbone, nose burying itself in the skin as he takes in your scent.

You’re too scared to move, afraid that even the slightest movement would cause those claws to tear into your skin.

“You smell so nice. I suppose it was a wise decision on my part to give you my jacket. Having my scent on you should be a good repellant.”

Nothing makes sense to you. Why in the world is Ajax holding you down on the bed, and why the hell does he keep smelling you? Is he even human?

“I notice you’ve stopped struggling,” he points out. He sits on your thighs now, hands resting on your stomach, but you can’t move your arms. They feel like they’re held together by something. “That's good actually. You should save your strength considering that you have a lot of screaming to do later.”

The tone of his voice sends a shiver down your spine, and you can’t help it when a few tears escape your eyes. Ajax is quick to lick them away while you lay absolutely petrified underneath him. Next, he grabs your face tenderly, leaning in so much that your breaths intermingle.

With the way the moonlight falls on his scarlet eyes, you can’t look away. Auburn eyelashes frame those crimson hues as a twinge of blue bleeds into them all the while the messy hair is accentuating the chaos that swirls within.

“Please,” you manage to choke out. “Don’t hurt me. You don’t have to do this, Ajax.”

The ginger hovering above you frowns at your pleading. He can smell the fear in your breath, and he’s a little proud of it but also a bit offended.

“You wound me, [Name]. You’re my mate. I could never hurt you, promise! Okay, maybe I would if you misbehave but that’s besides the point.”

His lips now brush your ear as he licks a stripe behind your earlobe, creating more shivers in your body. “After all, you’re a good little thing. I know you wouldn’t dare disobey.”

You try pleading with him once more. “I swear on my life Ajax. If… if you let me go, I won’t tell anyone about this. Please.”

He’s back to sitting on your thighs now, a thoughtful expression on his face. Something seems to click because instead of giving a reply, he’s drawing blood from his right index finger with his other hand using nails that clearly look like claws. Ajax’s left hand taps on your lips, the amused hum that bubbles from his throat completely filling the silence.

“Open up~”

You refuse, even going as far as becoming even more tightlipped. The reaction angers him, for he grabs your face and pries his thumb into your mouth. Thrashing your legs doesn’t do anything either because he’s too damn heavy.

“[Name], my dear. I would suggest being good and opening up before you end up like those men on the news.”

Wait… what?

“Aw, why are you crying? Don’t believe me? Do you want a demonstration?”

“You’re awful!” You’re sobbing now as he stares down at you. “How could you do such a- mph!”

Ajax takes the chance and stuffs the finger into your mouth. If the timing couldn’t be more inconvenient, your gag reflex starts acting up because of how deep he shoved it in. He calmly instructs you to obediently swallow while he presses the bleeding finger down on your tongue.

The most you taste is your own saliva but it’s followed by a very unpleasant fuzziness in your head. You feel like you’re floating on a cloud, mind foggy and breathing heavy as a pleasurable tingle travels from your spine to every cell of your body. A sharp sting on your left hand’s ring finger is what brings you back after a few moments.

Ajax brings the bleeding finger to your line of sight which confirms that your hands are free. However, you can’t move them. You can’t move anything. Your entire body feels numb.

Any blood that trickles from the wound is licked up by him. By the time it stops bleeding, a bite mark is prominent, one in the shape of a ring.

“A blood bond is more romantic, don’t you think?”

You will yourself to speak but your tongue feels like lead in your mouth.

“Don’t worry. It’ll only last for a few moments. It’s a good way to temporarily subdue misbehaving humans like you, right?”

You try your best to glare at him, but all that you’re able to manage is a half-angry stare.

“Scary~ You do realise you’re glaring at me? Oh wait, I never told you who I am.”

“I’m guessing that you’re not human,” you whisper.

The red eyed fiend sitting on top of you smirks at your words. “Took you long enough. You were so wary of me, yet you never questioned the obvious. I’ll give you a hint. I’m kind of a bad guy but not entirely ‘evil’ if that’s any consolation. I only took care of all those men because I didn’t like them being around you for even a second.”

He manoeuvres your body to sit you up in front of the headboard. Now, you start feeling like you’re in control, but the feeling doesn’t help because he simply binds your wrists again.

“For our first date, why don’t we play a game?”

You grumble at that. “What do you want from me?”

“I’ll answer your questions later,” he waves off. “Let’s play a game of getting to know me better! First question. What do you think I am? The hint is that I can control water and that my name is Tartaglia. I also have a liking for pretty things like you. Give me the right answer, and I ask another question. Wrong answer, and I test just how good that gag reflex of yours is.”

#genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin impact x reader #childe x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact imagines #yandere x reader #yandere genshin x reader #yandere childe #yandere childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #yandere tartaglia #yandere tartaglia x reader #genshin x reader #genshin x you

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

Published: Oct 24, 2023

I was around 10 the first time my mother asked if I thought I was a boy.

There was a period from the 1970s-1990s where the concept “tomboys”, although perhaps originally intended as a derogatory term, provided a space for pre-pubescent girls to act, play and dress in ways that were not stereotypically coded feminine; in other words, some of the freedoms boys were granted. My mother clearly felt that raising a daughter and a son should be drastically different experiences. This was not largely the case, as I wanted to be just like my older brother.

Growing up, my parents had strict ideas around the roles of men and women in society. Men were “head of the household” and had the final say on decisions, as well as being the primary disciplinarian; women’s primary roles were as caregivers. My parents were religious, raising me in a religion where homosexuality was taught to be immoral and unnatural.

In some ways, I fulfilled many stereotypes of feminine attributes: being gentle, soft-spoken, and nurturing towards others. I enjoyed playing with dolls and soft toys; however I also had a keen interest in cars and transformers. As a painfully shy child, I preferred the company of fictional characters in books more than people; this level of social awkwardness alone cast me as “odd”.

However, what had been convenient and financially fiscal - hand-me-down clothing from my brother - had become my clothing of choice. I only wanted to wear “boys’ clothing”, much of which came in my favourite colour (blue) versus the bright warm colours of “girls’ clothing”. Having worn both, I had realised that boys’ clothing was looser fitting, had more flexibility of motion, and was more comfortable. I disliked glitter, sequins, lace and frills, none of which was found on boys’ clothing. As a very shy child who refused to wear the clothing supposedly designated for my sex, this often invoked commentary and disapproval from adults around my appearance and my body. Boys’ clothing, with its longer sleeves and longer torso, covered up more of my body; a body I was painfully aware that others were observing and judging, sometimes openly.

My mother had told me how excited she was when she learned she was going to have a daughter to “do girly things with”, fantasising of frilly dresses and ballet rehearsals. Instead, she had me. Although my parents allowed me to play with the same toys as my brother, pursue the same sport as my brother, and (eventually) choose my own clothing, my mother’s question showed that she still didn’t understand: “Do you think you’re a boy?” My mother, likely feeling that she had been short-changed around the perks promised with raising a girl, could not understand how her daughter, who declined most things coded feminine, could indeed be a girl who was comfortable with this fact. 10 year old me didn’t understand just how loaded the question was, but did find it strange and hurtful, replying, “No, I’m a girl” in a confused tone.

Thankfully, as the concept of “tomboy” was popular while I was growing up, this meant there was a known word that described the type of girl I was; one that allowed me to know that, no matter what I liked or did, I was still a girl.

There was another word that described the type of girl I was. I was around 8 the first time I heard the word “gay”.  A boy slightly older than me had spit the word out, yelling at another child “I’m not gay!” This caught my interest. Although the word itself was unknown, the meaning had been clear with the derision and emphasis the boy had placed on the word, his face consorting in disgust as the word left his mouth. It must be something really bad was the clear impression.

I had the opportunity to quench my curiosity that same week. In line with other tasks that could be deemed naughty, looking up bad words in the dictionary required careful timing to when family members were distracted elsewhere. I timed my moment carefully and looked up “gay”, which naturally led to my learning the term “homosexual” - oh. Reading the definition, it was almost like a warm recognition spread across my chest, embracing me. I hadn’t known that homosexuals existed, but I was pretty sure I was one. After this, I would sometimes sneak out the dictionary just to read these words again; although just ink on paper, it was proof that other people like me existed.

I would later use this word - gay - against myself, turning it from something comforting and wonderful, to the same kind of contempt that shrouded the word whenever I heard others use it in real life. Laying in bed at age 11, I had prayed to not be gay, promising myself that I would never tell anyone about these feelings and grow up to marry a man. Although it had been fine when my feelings towards certain girls had just been an intense desire to be their friend and be near them, these feelings had become much harder to ignore now they had turned into more concrete thoughts, such as how beautiful a certain girl was, how shiny and luscious was her hair, and daydreaming around our hands accidentally touching. It was much harder to deny the very clear signs of a crush, particularly when all my female friends had crushes on boys. In order to fit in, I focused my energies on talking about how “cute” one of the boys in the class was - I had never interacted with him, however he had soft features and long eyelashes, and seemed gentle in nature. I would then go home and dream about my female friend and her lovely, long dark hair.

Coming into puberty, I had also started learning more about my religion’s views on homosexuality, specifically that it was immoral and unacceptable. This led to a lot of emotional hurt and confusion for me. At this point, homosexuals may as well have been mythical creatures, discussed by others, but never appearing as an identifiable person in real life.

* * *

Several years older, 15 year old me was struggling. Since puberty, I had been trying to push away any inkling of desire I had towards other girls.; it hadn’t worked. Now with slightly more understanding around the world and how I fitted into it, I had started the process of accepting that these feelings weren’t going anywhere and were, perhaps, just a normal part of me. I had also started considering that if I had been created with intent, as my religion taught, then no mistakes were possible, and my attraction towards girls, which had always been there in some form, was as natural and as similar as anyone else’s. Although it had improved, my social awkwardness still made me frequently feel like an outsider, with my secret and furtive crushes on other girls further making me feel different in a way I couldn’t discuss with anyone. This feeling would decrease when I eventually met other lesbians, however this wouldn’t happen for several years.

I had started to shop in the women’s department, and outgrown my obsession with cars, instead falling into an obsession with music; something familiar to many teenagers. Still, I preferred comfortable clothing that would be classed as “gender neutral”: jeans, baggy t-shirts, converse shoes. I wore my mid-length hair messy, fantasising about the short hairstyles lesbian duo Tegan and Sara sported. I spent a lot of time listening to music with female musicians who played guitar, preferring artists who openly sung about and desired other women, or those who sang with ambiguity in their love songs, allowing me to place my own meaning on them. My penchant for female musicians had not escaped the notice of my friends, who gently teased me about it, although they didn’t seem to understand the cause for this fixation.

Again, now a teenager, the same question from my mother, phrased slightly differently this time: “do you feel like you’re a man?” I remember telling my friend about this at a sleepover the same night - her response was silence. She didn’t know what to say.

* * *

Several years passed. I was now an out lesbian with a rainbow flag proudly adorning the wall of my share-house bedroom. This included being out to my parents, who had taken the news reasonably well and had been supportive. Having a friendly gay male couple move into their neighbourhood in my late teenage years had significantly increased their understanding and acceptance of homosexual relationships - and had allowed me to finally meet others “like me”. I had fulfilled my fantasy of cutting off the majority of my hair, with the longest section being a fringe that flopped into my eyes. I had also gone back to shopping in the men’s wear section, though my wide hips and narrow shoulders made finding men’s clothing that fit me well difficult. I had finally had my first kiss, although not yet a girlfriend, though most of my time was spent dreaming about this.

My parents had reassured me that they loved and accepted me when I told them I was a lesbian. They had continued to reaffirm this in the following months, however despite this acceptance, my mother showed that she still doesn’t understand, asking me the same question again, some months after I came out: “do you want to be a man?” It was as if every five years, the thought occurred to her again that I must have gender identity disorder because of the way I looked and acted.

I’m in my late 20s now. I have been an out lesbian for a decade, and have had several girlfriends, although my current relationship is by far the longest. My parents adore my girlfriend, buying her birthday presents, and always letting me know how much they approve. My mother comments on how nice my girlfriend’s dresses are and how much she likes her long hair, telling me, “you would look so nice in that”. I feel fatigued with a lifetime of trying to convince her I am genuinely comfortable like this, and tired of defending my short hair, which is my favourite part of my appearance. My girlfriend gets angry on my behalf whenever my mother makes these comments, defending me and saying she thinks I look beautiful as I am.

I am thankful that I never came across the often repeated and homophobic rhetoric that only boys like girls, and therefore lesbians are actually just straight males on the inside. My conviction of my own self, that I am a girl who likes girls, has protected me in this way, but may not have had I had been born a decade later, where it seems many young girls similar to myself are being taken to gender clinics. Or that my mother’s conviction that I am secretly a transman - which has been a reoccurring theme across my life so far - could have caused consultation with a medical professional to convince me of this very fact; something that, as a child who felt different and never seemed to fit, I am sure I would have trusted the adult expert’s views on.

Somehow - bewilderingly - now almost 30, my mother again asks me if I feel like I’m a man and if I’m actually trans. I explain as patiently as I can that no, I’m a lesbian woman and it’s hurtful to me that she seems to refuse to truly accept this, questioning whether I can be a woman because I don’t match her view of what a woman looks like.

She listens to my words and apologises, saying she thinks she understands now. I can’t help but wonder if we’ll be having this same conversation in another five years.

==

It's weird that they would prefer that their god made a "mistake" and put her in "the wrong body," than that their god doesn't make mistakes, and that she's who he wants her to be.

It's a bad sign when a far-left ideology and a conservative religious view coincide.

#LGB Alliance #lesbian #same sex attraction #trans the gay away #trans away the gay #save the tomboys #gay conversion therapy #conversion therapy #gender ideology #queer theory #genderwang #religion #born in the wrong body #in the wrong body #religion is a mental illness

[dragons-and-handcuffs]

https://www.tumblr.com/dragons-and-handcuffs/739372322140651520/i-just-had-an-interesting-thought-what-if-harwin

I just found this and now I’m wondering

What if after the dance begins, initially Rhaenyra’s daughter is betrothed to Cregan, to strengthen their alliances in the north?

While Rhaenyra’s other children very clearly held the traits of their Strong father, her daughter…. Was slightly different. The Strongs are well known in Kings Landing. The boys features are clear. However Rhaenyra’s daughter (through some odd luck) inherited her mother’s silver hair.

Despite having few other Valyrian traits, she has the Valyrian hair. If anyone suspects her as a bastard, they cannot say it. Because who then would the father be? Surely not Harwin.

Where her brothers have round noses and faces, and show signs of growing into well built men, she is the opposite. Like a little ghost. Post of her can be described in two words. Pale and thin. She cannot in any way be Harwin’s daughter. She bares no resemblance to any Strong woman.

Only because the people of Kings Landing do not know exactly which house she oddly resembles….

The hair color could throw one off. But as soon as her daughter starts growing, her features becoming more clear, Rhaenyra knows exactly where they’re from. She does her best to hide it. Insisting her eyes are just paler violet. Dressing her in only black. And styling her hair in Valyrian ways.

Anything to make the child resemble her. And not…. Him.

She’s fortunate. The people at court don’t know northern houses as well, aside from the Starks. At least not enough to notice those traits. But one night…. In the light of the fire late at night, Rhaenyra sees her daughter. She scares her by how suddenly she appears. The girl means no harm. But the way the low light catches her eyes…. Making her red dress look almost pink….

She is given no red dresses after that.

When the dance begins, Rhaenyra makes a mistake. Allowing her daughter to go north with Cregan. The second the others in his house see her, they recognize those features. And unfortunately for her…. So do others.

They’re cold to her. And when Cregan rides off, they avoid her out of uneasiness. Feeling unwelcome, she spends much of her time alone. But she isn’t familiar with Northern lands. Riding much too far one night, ending up in the land of House Bolton…..

She is left asking for shelter at the Dreadfort when a storm hits.

The girl ends up sitting in the same room as her kin, knowing nothing of it. They’re clever people…. They know how to spot a Targaryen. But more importantly, they know how to spot one who isn’t fully Targaryen….

They aren’t all unkind. A few of them ask her questions about herself. Ironically showing her more warmth than many others since she came to the north. She finds herself oddly at ease in these halls, with these reserved but seemingly generous people.

She finds herself at first staying longer than expected. Then returning a few times when Cregan is away. Rhaenyra writes to her daughter once. And the letter she receives back horrifies her.

She talks of visiting the Dreadfort. Of feeling welcome there! Rhaenyra, despite fighting a war, sends a letter hastily, ordering her to stay far away from that house!

However…. The seeds of doubt are already planted in the mind of the princess. Her mother says the Starks and their allies are trustworthy and the Boltons are not….. yet the Starks avoid her for some reason. And the Boltons welcomed her as if she was their own….. why does her mother not trust them? Does her mother even care?

Rhaenyra has already sealed her fate. For while she’s ordered her daughter to stay far away, the Princess is instead returning to the Dreadfort. What her mother doesn’t know, can’t hurt her

.

#hotd #house of the dragon #game of thrones #game of thrones imagines #hotd headcanon #hotd fanfic #hotd imagine #hotd imagines #hotd one shot #house of the dragon imagine

[biostris]

Hi there! This is my first time asking on your page and I hope your recovery is going well <3 If you’re maybe taking requests for sfw headcanons:

What do you think king dice would be like with a gf (gn is okay too) who’s rumored to being “the wicked witch of the woods” who’s typically described as a stereotypical child-eating evil old lady that lives in a house in the woods when in reality, she’s just a woman who really likes her alone time practicing her spells, making her potions, and generally doesn’t care about the childish rumors about her (bc girlbossing n shit)

If you don’t feel like answering this, pls don’t feel obligated to and you can ignore this if you’d like to. Have a good morning/day/afternoon/evening/night <3

A/N: it took me two years to get to this. But I’m here after a very lengthy depression to deliver.

C/w: possible talk about bones and other stuff, She / her pronouns used for reader

:KingDice x Witch!Fem! reader:

Honestly if you live out in the woods, you probably don’t even know about the rumors being spread. You’re too busy going to the supermarket to buy some out of season spices to begin with! Unethical you know but it’s needed for a spell and you lack a substitute herb

Whispered surround you, despite your obliviousness. “I heard she captures kids and cooks them in her cauldron!” Points out one worried mother. “I heard she works for the devil!” A man speaks out. Soon enough no one is left except the poor cashier who’s shaking in his boots.

Onto KD. You’re simply walking back to the forests edge when all of a sudden THE King Dice manages to bump into you! And uh oh, all those spices are down in the gutter. Since you’re a lady, and one he very much fancies after getting a glimpse of your face, he profusely apologizes.

“I’m sorry lil Darlin! Didn’t see ya there. What’s a pretty thing like you doing all the way downtown?” Casually trying to flirt while trying to salvage some of the spices along side you. Of course you explain your story, and here he is. Graciously offering to buy you any replacements

He is slightly scared but you’re also just too cute that maybe the crazy is excusable this time.

And from then on, he took notes. Brought you flowers ans the traditional gifts of course but he’d notice you using them in odd ways. “Baby doll,” he asks one day. Pointing to the flowers he brought a few nights ago hanging and dried upside down. “You know you can throw those away, right?”

As someone who works for the devil. He doesn’t know much about witchcraft. But whatever his girl needs. His girl gets. And hey, if you’re dating king dice? Maybe, just maybe, you’re not a kid eating devil worshipper like everyone says you are

#king dice head cannons #king dice fan #king dice x reader #king dice x reader fanfic #king dice cuphead #cuphead king dice #king dice fanart #king dice #cuphead x reader #cuphead

[vergilthelibrarian]

In God's Name, pt.2

Part 1

It’s been about a month since seeing God. I was still much too afraid to say his name, to even think it.

I was told as a child to never utter his name. I thought it was silly yet even before I saw him, I never said his name. I guess despite my thoughts, a part of me took it seriously. Seriously enough to never even whisper his name.

But seeing as just saying his name made him appear… I understood why we were warned so much.

I looked out my window as I washed the dishes, hearing the sounds children playing along with the rustling of the trees. The sun shone bright in the blue sky which appeared to clear.

It looked beautiful.

“Shit!” I gasped, dropping the knife I was washing. I grabbed my hand, wincing slightly as I looked at the blood that oozed out of my cut. I turned on the water of the faucet, letting the water run over my hands. I turned off the faucet, looking at the cut and seeing that it was small.

I went to the bathroom, cleaning the cut and covered it with a band-aid.

I sighed, staring down at the bathroom sink, my hands gripping the sides, lost in thought.

Ever since seeing the day, I’ve been spacing out. I’ve always had issues with spacing out, I would often get scold for it as a child during service, but this felt different.

I would think back to him. To his blue eyes. There was something about them that I couldn’t stop thinking about. They were piercing and intense, I couldn’t help but think he saw into my very soul when we made eye contact.

I truly believe he did.

Gulping, I looked up into the bathroom mirror, studying my features for a moment.

I’ve been trying my best to forget about that day. What I did was wrong, and I knew when I eventually go back to church, I will be punished, but it was hard to forget.

Sighing once more, I walked out of the bathroom, planning to finish washing the dishes when a knock at my door caught my attention.

I stopped in my tracks, blinking, and changed course to the front door.

Looking through the peephole, I saw Sufia standing at my doorstep with a worried look on her face.

I opened the door.

“Hey Sufia. What are you doing here?” I asked.

“You’re wanted at the church. They didn’t tell me why, but they said that they need you to come immediately.”

Sufia, just like me, would always question God. Why worship a God that needs to be feared, etc. We always got in trouble at the orphanage for questioning God and his love. She was much more fearless though.

Sufia was quiet for a moment.

“Did you see something?” and I knew exactly what she was asking me.

Did I say God’s name.

“I don’t know if I’m allowed to tell you that.” but that in itself was the conformation she needed.

“Let me walk with you.”

The walk to the church was silent. Me and Sufia were close. We were the odd ones out in the orphanage just from how much we would question what we were told. Compared to me, she was much more bold. More outspoken while I was more timid. I would get picked on for being meek by the other kids and Sufia would always come to my rescue like a knight in mud covered armor.

We soon arrived at the church, and I felt my heartbeat pick up slightly.

There were 2 priests who seemed to have been waiting for me outside.

I hesitated walking through the gate entrance.

What was going to happen? Were they going to kill me? Sacrifice me in the name of God? I was beyond terrified.

With a shaky breath, I walked through, Sufia right beside me. I walked up the stairs and one of the priests gave me a warm smile.

“I’m glad you came.” He glanced at Sufia, not outright telling her she needed to leave but silently telling her too.

“I’ll… I’ll go.” Sufia touched my shoulder and gave me a small smile before leaving me alone with the 2 priests.

“As I said before, I’m glad you came.” I turned my attention to the priest.

“I’m sure you know why you needed to come…” I nodded, looking away slightly. “Well, I have something wonderful to tell you. We should go inside; we don’t need anyone else to listening.” He said in a hush tone.

The 2 priests and I walked along the outside corridor to one of the small chapels. The talkative priest led me to one of the pews, taking a sit next to me when I sat down. The silent priest closed the door, locking it.

“As I said, I have something wonderful to tell you.” The priest smiled at me.

“Well, what is it?” I asked.

“God wants to take you as his partner.”

I leaned back in shock. I blinked.

“What? Why?” I didn’t like the idea of being the partner to a God, especially considering a God that, in all honesty, I didn’t see the point in worshiping.

“We are not sure.” He said, with a puzzled look on his face. “But he told us he wishes to take you as his.”

“W-what if I say no?” I questioned with a slight stutter.

The priest sighed. “You know you can’t go against God. He’ll punish all of us, you know that.”

I took in a deep breath, trying to stop my body from shaking as much but it was rather difficult.

“All you need to do is say his name.”

The silent priest came over, tapping his colleague on the shoulder. I noticed that the silent priest was the young one that I saw who was being initiated into the priesthood.

The talkative priest looked at me and gave me a gentle smile, but his eyes were slightly sad, like as if he was sorry for me. His hand went on top of mine, and he gave it a comforting squeeze before getting up and leaving with the silent priest through a small door, leaving me alone in the small chapel.

I stared down at the pew, cursing at my curiosity for putting me in such a situation.

I could get up and leave. Nothing was stopping me, but I knew how wrong it would be for me to do that. Our God was an angry God and from the stories in our sacred text, he was downright unforgiving and merciless.

I ran a hand through my hair, sighing, before looking up at the wooden statue of God. There were flowers before it and adorn it. Sunlight shone on the statue in such a way that you could teel that this was a statue of a deity.

Despite my questionings and my not so devoted worship, I’ve always loved this statue. This was the only one that we had that depicted him in a human form. The statue was pretty old, and the nuns here usually did their best to do the upkeep, making sure it didn’t fall apart from age. The statue itself was made of rosewood and it showed him with a piercing gaze.

As a child, I would come here and help the nuns clean up the chapel and help with the upkeep of the statue. But I would also come here to talk to the statue about my day, my worries and fears, my dreams and nightmares. As I got older though, I started coming to this little chapel less. Maybe it was because by then, I was busy with college, something that Lady Maria was against, telling me to become a nun instead.

I took out my rosary and rubbed wooden beads for comfort.

The feeling of nervousness was crawling up my back and it felt as though someone was watching me. I looked around, my eyes meeting every empty corner of the small chapel.

It was only me and the statue here.

I let out a shaky breath, looking back at the statue.

It looked exactly like him, perhaps a bit younger, but I knew that this really was the face of God.

I gulped and whispered, “Vergil.”

There was stillness in the room that became more apparent when I said his name. It was as though time stood still and I hated the feeling that stillness brought me. It was unnerving.

“I see you came.” a smooth voice entered my ears, and I turned my head to see where it came from. I met his eyes, my breath becoming caught in my throat. His face didn’t hold much emotion as he walked over to me from the side of the room, a sword in his hand, taking a seat next to me and faced ahead, looking at the statue that stood before us.

My hands felt clammy, and my heart was beating slightly fast. My grip on my rosary tightened.

Why was I scared? Was it because I was scared of being punished by God for not being a devoted follower? For Questioning him and his commandments? Or was there something else I was afraid of?

God slowly turned his head to me. “Though I don’t mind the fear, you are the last person I wish to fear me…” His voice was quiet, it was if he didn’t want anyone else but me to hear what he just said.

I didn’t know that to say, and he could tell. He turned his head away, his piercing gaze leaving me.

We sat in silence for a bit, I don’t know how long exactly, but the longer we sat in the silence, the less my nerves were on edge and the more relaxed I became. My heart was beating as fast anymore and though my hands were still a bit clammy, the rosary in my hands became less tight.

“Are you calm now?” he asked, his tone soft as he looked at me once more. I nodded to his question.

“Good. As I said, you’re the last person I wish to fear me.” once again, his voice was quiet.

“What… do you want with me?” my voice was quiet as well, but it was more so out of the small bit of anxiousness I still had.

He hummed at my question, closing his eyes as he did as he gathered his thoughts together.

“If you want me to be honest, there’s two reasons. One of them is rather… pathetic.” He began, opening his eyes. “I could just tell you only one of the reasons. That reason being that I want you to become my most devoted follower. To never doubt the power, strength, and wisdom I obtained for over the years I’ve lived. To have you so devoted that you would lay your life for me without a second thought.”

He stopped, closing his eyes again, sighing. “But then I would not be truly honest with you.” He said, opening his eyes once more. “The other reason… The reason I see to be as weak…” he hesitated. It seemed like he didn’t want to say it. “It is because I wish to not be alone…” his tone was hush.

I was shocked by his words, but I guess even a God becomes lonely sometimes…

“But why me?”

“I would hear you when you would come here and talk. At first, I was annoyed but… I grew attached to your visits.” He looked away again and slightly turned his head up. “You started coming less until you stopped coming entirely, only going to mass.” He chuckled, before looking back at me with a slight smile. “I became rather bitter that you weren’t giving me attention anymore.

“Seeing you again… snapped something in me. It made me realize that I am much more human than I’d like to admit and that I want your attention again… but I want that attention to be only for me.” He whispered.

I felt flustered by his words. To be wanted by God wasn’t a rare occurrence, but I never expected to ever be in that occurrence.

“Come o’re the eastern hills, and let our winds kiss thy perfumed garments; let us taste thy morn and evening breath; scatter thy pearls upon our love-sick land that mourns for thee.”

I couldn’t stop my heart from fluttering from the poem he had recited. His poem told me everything he seemed to have difficulty explaining.

He was in love with me.

The chapel was silent once more, the only sound that could be heard were the birds chirping.

“My God… I…” I didn’t know what to say.

He hummed. “I would like it if you called me by my name.”

I gulped, taken aback by his request but I nodded slightly.

“It’s okay to not know how to feel. I know how you feel about me. I don’t expect you to throw yourself to me yet.” He Vergil said. “It’s a lot to take in… but understand this, my patience is only so thick.”

Vergil leaned in close to me, his nose brushing against mine lightly and I moved back, my cheeks warming from the action.

“Don’t keep me waiting long.” His tone was serious and slightly harsh.

It was a warning.

And a warning from a God was something serious.

The back of Vergil’s hand soon caressed my cheek, causing me to become more flustered than I already was.

His touch was chaste, shy, like as if he was unsure of how to show whatever emotion he was feeling at the moment, a contrast to the words that had just left his lips.

“I’ll be waiting.” There was a softness in his eyes as he said those words, the slight harshness leaving his voice and the quiet, gentleness returning.

He then got up, walking back to where I first saw and opened a portal with his sword. He walked through it and once again, it was only me and the statue in the small chapel.

I could not explain the emotion I was feeling. My mind was blank yet running with so many thoughts that I was glad I was sitting down as I would probably faint. I felt my face, feeling how warm it was and I placed my hand on my chest, wishing my heart would stop leaping whenever his face popped into my mind. Whenever his smooth voice would enter my mind once more.

I wasn’t sure what I was feeling yet but I knew that I needed to figure out what I was feeling before I met Vergil again.

Whether the meeting will be of my own choosing is something I will only know in the future.

#i wrote in first person because i didn't remember if i wrote in first person or not #but i liked how it sound in first person so i kept it that way #i was listening to sweet love by anita baker on repeat while writing at some point lol #i feel like this is a bit rushed at the end but yeah #try to find the full william blake poem i used in this #dmc x reader #devil may cry x reader #vergil x reader #vergil sparda x reader #vergil x male reader #vergil sparda x male reader

[chaoticpuff17]

Amygdala

masterlist

Chapter 8

Margot didn’t quite know what to think as she was led through the hallways of the hospital, Yoongi’s hand resting firmly on the small of her back as he led her further and further away from the relative safety of Maria’s room. At least in Maria’s room there were witnesses to keep Yoongi and whatever delusional nonsense was running through his head in check.

“Min Yoongi-ssi!” A man in a suit came up, nervous and sweating as he approached the pair. The poor man was slightly out of breath and had clearly rushed to meet them as they were nearly out of the hospital. “I’m glad I caught you before you left.” 

“Vice chairman.” Yoongi greeted him cooly, seemingly unbothered by the man, though he did tug Margot a little closer into his side, wrapping his arm around her waist in a possessive gesture. 

“I wanted to thank you in person for the generous donation you made to the oncology department.”

Margot looked up at Yoongi in confusion. It didn’t make sense to her that he would be donating money to the hospital, let alone to the oncology department. 

“It was nothing.” Yoongi brushed him off. “I trust there were no issues with resolving Jung Maria’s bill?” He arched his brow, looking down on the older man imposingly which was odd considering the other man was at least a few centimeters taller than Yoongi was, but he didn’t have the same intimidating aura. 

“No problems at all!” he rushed to assure them. “Everything has been taken care of, and we will be moving her to a private room later today.” 

“What are you talking about?” Margot asked, nervous at the mention of Maria. “What private room?” 

The vice chairman looked at Margot in confusion, unsure of what to make of the woman and her questions when Yoongi was clearly the one with the power in this situation.

“This is Margot Brooks,” Yoongi introduced her. “Jung Maria’s niece.” 

The man immediately flipped a switch, taking note of how Yoongi introduced her and her relationship to the patient as well as the way Yoongi hand remained curled around her waist in a display of public affection that was quite unusual for him. 

“Of course, Ms. Brooks.” He smiled in that oily simpering way that people trying to get into your good graces for their own purposes always seemed to do. “It’s been arranged to have your aunt moved to one of our VIP rooms. She’ll be getting the best of care, I promise you.” 

“My uncle and I can’t afford that!” Her eyes were wide, stricken at the thought of the cost of a VIP room when they were already struggling to pay the bills they had. 

“Her bill has already been taken care of.” he explained. “Mr. Min has taken it upon himself to see to her bill as well as making a sizable donation to the oncology department.” 

“He what?” she turned her stricken expression towards Yoongi. “You what?” 

Yoongi could see her gearing up for a fight and was quick to extract them from the situation. “It’s all been handled.” He assured her, leaving no room for discussion as he turned his attention to the older man. “If you’ll excuse us, Ms. Brooks and I were just on our way to lunch.” 

Without so much as a glance backwards as the man who was scrambling to see them off, thanking Yoongi again for his contribution to the hospital as he saw them out the door. 

There was already a car waiting for them at the entrance when they stepped out, and Yoongi was quick to usher Margot into the passenger seat, shutting the door behind her before she had a chance to try to get back out again. Knowing Margot as well as he did, he’d already had the child locked set on the door so that she couldn’t exit the vehicle without his help. 

“A child lock?” she asked, eyes narrowed as he slipped into the driver’s side. “Really?” 

He shrugged, pulling away from the curb. “Would you have stayed put without it?” 

They both knew the answer to that already, and she didn’t deign to answer him. 

“Where are we going?” she asked, noticing that he was not in fact headed in the direction of the coffee shop that Maria had ordered them too.

“To lunch.” 

“Maria said coffee. I didn’t sign up for lunch. I didn’t even sign up for coffee. I’ve been coerced!” she declared, throwing up her hands in exasperation as she stared at him incredulously.

“You’ll just have to suffer through coerced lunch instead.” the small smile that tugged on the corners of his lips did not escape her. 

“This is kidnapping!”

“Not yet it’s not.” he muttered under his breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing to worry about, jagi.” 

She scoffed, digging into her bag for her phone only to have it plucked out of her hands by Yoongi as soon as she tried to open it. 

“Hey!”

“Can’t have you calling for reinforcement just yet, jagi.” 

“Give that back!” 

The phone was tucked away into the inner pocket of his jacket and out of her reach. 

“No can do, jagiya. You’ll get it back after lunch.” 

Margot simply looked at him for a moment, flummoxed. He was treating her like a child all while kidnapping her for a meal. 

“Are you serious?” 

“As the plague.” 

“I’ll scream.” she threatened, panic rising in her throat.

“Go ahead, jagi.” 

“You’re not even a little fazed by that?” 

“Nope.” 

“You’ve gone legitimately insane.” she declared. “Absolutely bananas.” 

She gave up trying to talk to him at that point. He wasn’t going to release her, and she was only wasting her breath trying to convince him to. Instead she turned her attention to the window, looking out and trying to figure out just where he was taking her. Unfortunately for her, but perhaps fortunately for him, she didn’t know this part of Seoul very well and had no idea where he was taking her. 

Eventually, he pulled up in front of a high end looking restaurant.  

“Where are we?” she asked, as he parked the car and unlocked his doors.

“You’ll see.” He smirked, handing off his keys to a valet as he stepped out. 

“I don’t want to see. That is how people get murdered.” she informed him as he came around and opened her door for her. 

“You think I’m going to murder you?” he chuckled, quirking a brow. 

“I don’t know. Maybe. You did kidnap me.” 

“No murder. I promise.” 

With a hand on her back, he led her towards the doors of the restaurant. 

“You, sir, are a criminal. Why on earth would I trust you?” 

It was a nice restaurant, nicer than Margot would have been able to afford, but that wasn’t really the issue here. She doubted Yoongi would make her pay for a lunch he kidnapped her to, but she felt horribly underdressed compared to the elegant people she saw already dining there. 

“Yoongi!” a cheerful voice called out to them, drawing her attention to the very handsome man headed their way. “Welcome!” 

He strode over, engulfing Yoongi in a hug, and much to her shock, Yoongi allowed it. 

“I didn’t think you’d be here, Jin.” Yoongi drawled, completely relaxed as the other man smiled at him. 

“After I got your text asking for a last minute table?” Jin laughed, a squeaky sort of sound that reminded her rather oddly of a windshield wiper. “I had to see who would warrant the Min Yoongi asking for a last minute lunch reservation. You normally plan in advance.” 

Yoongi sighed, though it didn’t seem to Margot to be in irritation. It was more of a long suffering sound as though he was used to this but wished he wasn’t. 

“Hyung, this is Margot Brooks. Margot, this is Kim Seokjin. He owns the restaurant.” 

“A pleasure to meet you, Margot-ssi.” Seokjin greeted with a charming smile, taking her hand and placing a kiss on her knuckles despite the murderous glare that Yoongi gave him as he did. “Anyone who can get this grump out for an impromptu lunch must be spectacular.” 

“It’s nice to meet you.” She returned his smile, withdrawing her hand awkwardly. 

“The table, hyung.” Yoongi prompted, tucking Margot protectively into his side despite her trying to move away.

“Right this way!” he declared cheerfully, offering his arm for Margot to take.

She looked between the two men for a moment. Yoongi’s arm was curled possessively around her waist, determined to keep her by his side which was the last thing she wanted. She didn’t know Kim Seokjin, but of the two he seemed like the less dangerous option. He was also the option that could possibly call the police and get her out of this twisted lunch date. 

Delicately, Margot extracted herself from Yoongi’s hold and took Seokjin’s proffered arm despite the displeased look Yoongi was giving them. 

“Yoongi, texted earlier to ask for a private table for the two of you!” Seokjin explained as he led her deeper into the restaurant through the tables. “Normally we’re booked weeks if not months in advance, but how could I say no when Yoongi asked for a table for two!” The man laughed, and Margot smiled, glancing back to see Yoongi trailing behind them with a look like thunder painted across his features. 

She leaned in as though she was laughing with him. 

“I need you to call the police. I’m here against my will.” She whispered, glancing back at Yoongi again nervously.

Seokjin didn’t say anything for a moment, looking at her oddly before bursting out laughing, patting her hand patronizingly.

“Please, Seokjin-ssi.” 

“Yoongi,” Seokjin called behind them. “Your girl’s got jokes!” Margot looked up at him in horror. “And please, call me Jin.” He grinned, and Margot was hit by the same sense of wrongness she felt whenever she saw that odd glint in Yoongi’s eyes. 

“She trying to get out of our date?” Yoongi asked unfazed, coming to walk alongside them instead of behind them.

“One would almost think you’re a bad date.” Jin joked, pulling out a chair at a little table tucked away by a window for her. “Careful or she won’t want to go out with you again.” He admonished. 

“She’s a firecracker.” Yoongi shrugged unbothered.

Margot sat, unsure of what else to do, and Jin pushed her chair in for her. 

“It was lovely to meet you, Margot-ssi.” Jin smiled, dazzlingly. “Please, enjoy your lunch. I already put an order in to our chef for the special.” 

And with that he left, leaving her alone with Yoongi once more.

“Jin won’t help you.” Yoongi informed her, pulling out his own phone to answer a message. “He and I go back years.” 

“It was worth a try.” 

He looked up at her. “Is lunch with me really so bad?” 

“A fate worse than death.” she shot back dryly. He rolled his eyes, slipping his phone back into his pocket. “Can I have my phone back now?” 

“After lunch.” he waved her off. “How have you been? Have you been sleeping alright?” He dove straight into the questions about her wellbeing now that they were alone. “You haven’t had any more attacks.” 

Margot bristled in her seat. He didn’t have any right to be asking her about her health, especially not when he was the cause of her last panic attack.

“I’m fine.” She grit out, wanting the subject to change. 

“That’s good. Did you receive my gifts?” 

“Unfortunately.” Her tone was sour, laced with ire as she glowered at him from across the table. “You need to stop sending me things. It’s creepy.” 

He cocked his head to the side. “Creepy? How? It’s normal to send my girl gifts.” 

“I’m… I’m not..” she stuttered over the words, dumbstruck by the sheer audacity of his statement and the causality with which he made it. “I’m not your girl!” 

“You’ve always been my girl.” He shrugged, taking a sip of his water.

“I’ve never been your girl!” 

Before she could argue further, the server arrived with their meals, and Margot, much to Yoongi’s amusement, was too polite to argue in front of the server. He watched with a barely concealed smile as she thanked the server and declined wanting anything else, sending him on his way before turning her ire back on him.

“We were never together, and we are definitely not together now.” She explained her words slow and clear as though she wasn’t sure he understood. 

“I was a fool back then to let you go. I don’t plan on making the same mistake twice.” 

Margot scoffed, her head shaking a little as though she was trying to clear her thoughts. “You didn’t let me do anything. I left of my own free will because my study abroad time was over. I went home to my family and my life. You had no control of that decision because I was and am a grown ass woman. So you can get off your high fucking horse.” 

Her smile was bright, stretching across her features, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Her eyes were wide, but not in a way that would suggest fear or surprise. Instead the smile combined with those wide furious eyes painted a picture of a woman on a warpath, and Yoongi loved it even if he didn’t agree with her stance. 

“I should have asked you out then.” He admitted, digging into his food as though he hadn’t just short circuited her brain. “I was too angry or too much of a coward to do it, but you’re back now.” 

“Hindsight is twenty-twenty as they say.” 

“You’re back, and we can start fresh now.” he reached across the table covering her hand with his.

She scoffed, a disbelieving smile on her face as she slipped her hand out from under his. “That doesn’t change anything. And if I remember correctly, and I think I do, there was never any discussion then or now of us being together. I never agreed to anything, and I’m not going to.” 

“Margot.”

“Are you insane?” she asked, her head tilted slightly to the side as she stared at him in concern. “Have you actually lost your mind?”

“Margot, I know we didn’t get off on the right foot,” 

“The right foot?” The pitch of her voice raised an octave as she grew more hysteric, her hands gesturing in quick frenetic movements in front of her as she spoke. “You sent men to the restaurant to break things and possibly beat up an old man! I’m not sure there is a right foot at this point.” 

“It was a bad start.” 

“A bad start? It was a catastrophe. You terrorized Tae-il. You broke into my apartment!” 

“It wasn’t my finest hour.” 

“Not your…” she stopped, staring at him for a moment before bursting into hysterical giggles. “I think you’ve actually gone crazy.” 

She reached behind her, grabbing her purse and standing from the table. “I’m going to go. You can keep the phone. But I need to…” 

Before she could say anything else, Yoongi stood up, quick as a flash and took both her arms in hand, holding her still and keeping her from leaving. His hands were shaking with barely concealed fury of his own as he struggled to keep himself in check. 

“You are not leaving.” 

“Yoongi…” she looked at him warily,

“You are not leaving.” He repeated, each word enunciated with dangerous precision. “So sit down and eat your fucking meal.” 

“Yoongi…”

“Sit. Down.” he ordered, sliding the strap of her purse from her shoulder and pushing her back into her seat. 

He took a deep breath to steady himself, running a hand through his hair as he took his own seat again, as Margot watched him quietly from her place with wide, wary eyes. 

“I’m sorry, Mari-ah.” he apologized, the old nickname slipping out. “I didn’t mean to lose my temper. Please, eat.” 

“Yoongi, you need to let me leave.” 

It was his turn to chuckle hysterically now. “I can’t do that, Mari. I can’t… I can’t.” 

Margot could see his hands shaking, the wicked glint back in his eyes as he tried to keep himself in line.

“Okay. Okay.” she began, swallowing hard as she pasted a wobbling smile onto her face. “I’m not going anywhere.” His eyes snapped to hers, swirling with something dark and feral that she didn’t want to put a name to. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Mari…”

“We’re here for lunch right?” She asked, finally unfolding her napkin and placing it across her lap. “Let’s talk about something else.” 

Part nine

#bts #bts fic #bts fanfic #yandere #mafia #yandere fic #mafia fic #yandere yoongi #mafia yoongi #yandere suga #mafia suga #yandere agust d #mafia agust d #dark romance #yoongi x oc #suga x oc #agust d x oc #amygdala

[marvellousimagines]

One moment, you were just having another normal day in Baldur’s Gate. The next, you were on some Illithid ship careening through the planes, teaming up with a Githyanki and a Cleric, and surviving the ship’s crash on a beach.

And now a well-dressed elf was holding a knife to your throat after tricking you into turning your back on him.

Something about the way the elf held himself, the sound of his voice, seemed familiar, which you supposed lulled you into a false sense of security around him, giving him the opening to get close with the knife. Of course, being an elf yourself of about 300 years in age, you had a lot of memory to sort through and couldn’t quite pin down what was so familiar about him.

With a timely intervention by the tadpoles that had been forcibly inserted into your brains, the elf backed off, realizing you weren’t actually on the mindflayers’ side.

“My name’s Astarion,” he introduced himself with a showy bow.

Astarion. You knew that name. His voice, his face, his mannerisms. THAT’S why it all seemed familiar.

“Astarion Ancunín?” you asked in disbelief.

Distrust and fear flashed in Astarion’s eyes. “How- how do you know that?” he asked, raising his dagger once again to level at you.

“I’m Y/N. I worked at a tavern you used to frequent, back in Baldur’s Gate,” you explained quickly, putting your hands up in a placating gesture. “It’s been 200 years. I heard you’d died. How… how are you here?”

Astarion’s expression smoothed into a carefully guarded look. “Clearly the rumors of my death were SLIGHTLY exaggerated,” he replied with a small flourish of his hand and a practiced smirk on his face. You couldn’t help but get the sense he was deflecting, especially when he continued without offering any further explanation. “Where was it you worked again?”

“The Gilded Crane,” you replied, hoping your disappointment that he didn’t recognize you didn’t show on your face. It made sense he wouldn’t. You barely recognized him, and you spent many shifts staring at the pretty elf magistrate and pining from afar, knowing he was way out of your league. Though, to be fair, his hair was now much lighter and his eyes seemed darker than they used to be, and you were pretty sure you haven’t changed quite as much. “Why don’t we travel together? Our odds will be better in a group,” you suggested, perhaps foolishly in hopes of regaining that lost connection from 200 years ago.

“You know, I was ready to go this alone, but maybe sticking with the herd isn’t such a bad idea,” Astarion replied, his smirk widening into a charming smile as he looked at you. “I accept.” 

You silently cursed your heart for fluttering like you were a lovesick child again, almost like no time has passed since you foolishly developed a crush on one of the higher-class patrons of the tavern.

“Even though you don’t remember me, it is nice to see you again, Astarion,” you told him with a gentle smile.

Astarion looked at you as though you were a puzzle to solve, his head tilted back and eyes taking in every detail of your face. You felt your cheeks grow hotter under his gaze, and a smirk again tugged at his lips as he seemed to see right through you. “I believe I will enjoy traveling with you. I wonder why I never got to know you before. We’ll certainly have to make up for some lost time,” he said, clearly laying the charm on thick but you were falling for every word.

You had to look away from Astarion to hide the blush that now likely covered your entire face, and you heard a quiet snicker from his direction.

#baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 imagine #astarion #astarion imagine #unspecified gender reader