#ambiguous reader

[transmimir]

“Would you like to read with me?”

Pinocchio x GN!Reader Oneshot

Word Count: 841 words Rating: G Warnings: None

 Puppets had become killers, but still, you were fascinated with him. He was simply called ‘P’, and according to Sophia, he was made by the legendary craftsman, Geppetto. She called him a special puppet, and that was clear to see the moment you’d met him. He wasn’t affected by the frenzy that possessed other puppets outside the hotel. Even more curiously, he hadn’t been bound by the laws inscribed to all other puppets. He was entirely free-thinking and autonomous, and still, he chose a path of good.

 He was a quiet, peaceful, introverted being; who helped Sophia and Geppetto without complaint. Though he had no laws to prohibit him, he still respected life, and in fact, seemed to cherish it. You’d been watching him for a while now, whenever he came back to the hotel to rest. He seemed fascinated by the Arts. He delighted in the sound of the gramophone, and sometimes stared for minutes at Antonia’s favorite painting. If you didn’t know otherwise, you’d never guess he wasn’t truly alive.

 You were watching him now as he perused a bookshelf. He skimmed the titles with a thoughtful expression before picking one out. As he opened it, you shifted closer around the corner, attempting to make out the title. Your hip bumped into a vase on accident. Panicked, you scrambled to steady it before it toppled over. You looked back up and met P’s eyes, looking quizzically at you.

 “I’m sorry,” You blurted immediately. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.” You were about to abscond, but the movement of his hands stopped you.

 “It’s alright,” P signed. Though you assumed he had the capacity to, you’d never heard him speak. You pointedly kept the amount of time you’d been studying Sign Language to yourself. A few moments of silence passed. “Have you read this before?”

 His stance was open and welcoming, so you approached. He tilted the book so you could read the title.

 “No, I haven’t,” you replied. The only books you’d read recently were on… okay, stop thinking about that before you started blushing and embarrassing yourself. “It sounds interesting, though,” you offered clumsily. P cocked his head and paused again before answering.

 “Would you like to read it with me?”

 You felt your heart catch in your throat, and your palms felt clammy. “Sure. I’d like that.” He smiled softly, and the thumping in your chest grew faster. He turned and walked into the lounge. You followed behind, quickly wiped your hands against your legs, and prayed they’d stop sweating. He sat down on a love seat–a couch, it was a couch– and looked back at you expectantly. You swallowed your anxiety and sat next to him. Pointedly, you ignored the fire in your nerves where his leg just barely touched yours.

 “Let me know when you’d like me to turn the page,” P signed, then opened the book and held it between you both. It was a bit awkward at first, figuring out how to read together cohesively. The fact that your brain was so frazzled just being next to him didn’t help. Eventually, you figured out a system of nodding to have the page turned, as he read faster, and you slipped into a comfortable rhythm. As time passed, your nerves calmed, and you finally relaxed.

 You were so engrossed in the book, you failed to notice when your head lolled onto P’s shoulder. P rested his hand on the page to draw your attention. You turned to look up at him, realized where your head was, and jolted away from him.

 “Sorry,” you stuttered, face hot, “I hadn’t meant to– I didn’t realize–”

 “It’s okay,” P interjected quickly. “I didn’t mind.” His kind eyes looked back at you with what you’d swear was softness. “You’re… warm.” His hands seemed hesitant, like they weren’t sure what he wanted to say. Your already flushed face felt even hotter, but there was also a giddy feeling in your chest.

 “You can feel it,” You inquired, a corner of your mouth quirked up.

 “Yes,” he nodded. “It… feels nice.” You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling. He smiled back, almost imperceptible, but you noticed. You couldn’t meet his gaze for more than a few moments, before you instinctively looked away at the floor. You shifted to get comfortable, then slowly relaxed back against his side. He repositioned the book, but before you began reading again, you felt the need to glance up.

 Across the room, Antonia looked back at you. Your face flushed when you realize she’d probably watched the whole thing. She only gave a bemused smile before she turned away. Sheepishly, you smiled and looked back down at the book.

 You found the rhythm of reading together once more. It must have been quite a while you’d been sitting with him, because your eyes started feeling heavy. Instead of fighting, you let your eyes drift closed. You were almost to sleep when you felt cold fingers brush against your shoulder. You kept your eyes shut, but smiled anyway.

#dont usually upload x readers to tumblr but hiiiii i wrote this and wanted to share #lies of p x reader #liesofp x reader #pinocchio x reader #p x reader #lies of p #gender neutral reader #no y/n #ambiguous reader #pure fluff #oneshot #reader insert #jamie's writing

[elvenxwarrior]

Play Time - Asmodeus

Masterlist

You can also find this posted on my AO3!

CONTENT WARNING: Kinda spicy uwu MINORS DNI.

You and Asmodeus had jealousy for each-other that could almost put Leviathan to shame... Not that you two would know it. The jealousy was silent and seething; everyone except the pair of you could see that.

Whenever Asmodeus would come back with his usual witch/es for a brief fling, your blood would boil, something about this drove you mad. You knew exactly why though, you were in love with the lustful demon.

However, there are two sides to a coin. When you would spend time with his brothers, he felt strange in his heart and would have a strong desire to drag you away from them.

Asmodeus decided to turn this into a game... "How Long Does It Take [Name] To Lose It?"

He knew you'd be wandering out and about today with Lucifer doing pointless errands, so he decided to 'follow'. You and Lucifer were stood talking about the errands that needed to be done; you offered to go and do some by yourself if it meant getting it done quicker which Lucifer greatly appreciated your suggestion and reminded you to be safe.

On your journey, you saw the flirtatious brother with a young woman. She had very similar features to you; her hair colour was very close, maybe a bit longer too?

'Why is he talking to her? Another fling probably...' you thought to yourself. 'But... she looks so much like me...!'

"Well, my dear it was lovely to see you again! Ciao~" His voice rang out, before he spotted you with an amused smile. "Ah, [Name]!"

You heavily sighed, clutching your bag closer to you as you glanced through a store window, "Yes, Asmo?"

"You were just the person I was looking for, I-"

"Was I? You seemed quite happy talking to my doppelgänger just now..." You smirked, voice dripping in sarcasm.

Asmo playfully frowned, folding his arms, "Oh? Feeling a bit jealous are we~?"

You suddenly felt your face flush and you stuttered over your words, "I'm not-, how could you say-, why would you-"

Somewhere amongst your talk you and Asmodeus had ended up in a dimly lit alley - it was illuminated by small blue lanterns and was surprisingly clean. He suddenly, yet gently had you against the wall.

"Well, it seems to me... [Name]~"

The way he emphasised your name sent a shiver through you, "That you want little ol' me aaaalllll to yourself...~"

You nodded in response, worried your words would still be tangled in your throat. "How greedy... [Name]...~ How many more of my brothers do you wish to put to shame all because of me? Too proud like Lucifer to admit you want me? Hm~?"

"Asmo..." His name barely made a sound out of you, almost like a needy whine. Your arms went around his neck, tangling in his hair and pulling him to you.

Your lips politely collided as the demon before you pulled one of your legs around his waist, both of you humming a small moan into your passionate interaction. He gripped your other leg, making you push yourself off the floor to wrap both legs around him.

Asmodeus smirked, pressing his crotch against yours and gripping your waist affectionately and began to kiss and bite down your neck. "You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this, [Name]..."

"M-Me too, Ah~! Asmo~!"

His hands began travelling up to your chest, before being interrupted. "[Name]? Where has that confounded human gotten to now…?"

Asmodeus gently let you down, and adjusted your clothes and hair to be more presentable, "Let us continue this back at home~"

You breathlessly nodded, turning to go and meet Lucifer.

"Thanks for playing this game with me, [Name]. Now," He smacked your butt, "Go!"

#ao3 fanfic #ao3 fic #fanfic #fanfiction #om #omswd #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me asmodeus #ambiguous reader #x female reader #female reader #fem reader #om x reader #obey me x reader #smut #smut fanfiction

[elsecrytt]

Hello. I am 🐱 anon. Here is my request.

Tomorrows my exam the 2nd hardest exam of all. Any I wanna request "Vampire!Mc×Satan"

MC actually has a hobby of drinking blood so one day reader ordered some blood from the donation box and casted a spell on themselves and likely Mammon and levi were arguing loudly so the spell went a tiny tad bit wrong. Unfortunately the bags of blood they ordered somehow were ruined so a call from the donation box came, the staff apologizing. Because of the tiny tad bit wrong spell now Mc's body will constantly hurt if they don't drink blood. Mc endured it for a while.

But Satan noticed it and Mc told Satan. Satan offered his blood. Mc started drinking Satans blood the leaned towards the bed headboard Satan taking this chance to hold mc's waist while mc is on top him and mc just couldn't stop drinking Satan's blood sure it's a bit hot and a bit metalic but it wasn't enough to stop mc from keep going. After almost 30 minutes Mc stopped the spell also wore of and when Mc looked Satan is passed out. Mc later bandages him.

DAMN you've already taken the exam by now but. Hope you did good buddy!!

There's a bunch of details here that feel a bit muddy, but I love the general idea, so let me put a bit of a spin on the setup~

-

Every so often Satan notices you get a bit... withdrawn. You speak a lot less, avoid raising your hand in class, don't make eye contact at all, don't initiate conversations; you're even a bit short and curt in texts, of all things.

At first he wonders if you're simply busy. Or maybe you get moody every now and then. It does seem to happen at random.

The biggest hint he gets is how you hole yourself up after a couple days of brusqueness, how once it happens in the middle of the week and you skip classes at RAD to stay locked in your room.

You won't let anyone in, even him, and Lucifer is uncharacteristically lenient about what should be a serious offense. His other brothers are busy whining every now and then about it, and like hell he's going to ask Lucifer - especially when you won't tell him what's going on yourself.

But he does work out a pattern, over time. Of course he does. It's Satan. Once he starts examining the timeline, things that had been happening around when your little recesses,,, it becomes clear.

And he feels a bit silly for not realizing it sooner. Bloody moon. Of course it would affect a vampire. Really, he's surprised he hadn't come to you asking about it sooner...

But when he approaches you about it, you always seem to find some way out of the conversation. Something to do, somewhere to go, another pressing topic to discuss.

He confronts you about it and you confess - that you don't want to talk about it. it's an uncomfortable subject. The look on your face thoroughly sells it for him...

...but Satan's never been one to leave well enough alone. It's far too obvious to him that you're suffering every time this comes along.

What's wrong? What can he do for you? Can he bring you anything? Are you hurt? Sick? He researches spells, potions, anything he can, all in the face of your stubborn refusal.

It must have something to do with blood... do you need some to drink? But you were always so well-provided-for, Diavolo would never let his precious exchange student starve.

So he researches. He investigates. As is his natural response. He looks up articles, novels even, any kind of media written or produced by actual people like you.

“It’s never the same as drinking from the source. And of course, it doesn’t need to be - any healthy blood, properly stored, CAN sustain a vampire, there’s no question about that.

"I’m not advocating for live blood draining, but the all-bagged philosophy is missing out on a crucial point of our culture and identity, and I think it’s unfair to silence…”

There’s a lot that he’d initially dismissed as the typical rankings of older generations upset by newer, more progressive mentalities taking place.

It sounded exaggerated, no one could NEED blood that much - even Beel wasn’t so picky about his source and eating method - but the more Satan learns, the more convinced he becomes.

You’re holing yourself up because the craving has struck. Bagged blood is no longer sufficient. You want it fresh, hot, and straight from the source.

As soon as the realization strikes him - perhaps as he'd come to it - his feet take him to your room in quick, hurried strides.

That closed door that had remained shut for days. You'd only texted him - or any of the other brothers - in curt, short messages.

Lucifer had instructed them not to trouble you during this time, and harsh shouts greeting any other visitors had dissuaded them; you had enough blood in there for yourself anyways, Lucifer had confirmed.

So Satan doesn't knock. He has a spell that undoes the lock silently, and twists it open as quietly as he can, darting in, closing and locking it behind him as he closes in on you.

You...

You don't look so good. At the same time, you look absolutely delectable.

Sitting with your knees to your chest, hunched over like some kind of beast, shivering, twitching.

There's bloodstains on your sheets - some of them dry, some of them fresher looking. Half-empty and some fully drained bags litter your floor.

You don't look cold. You don't even look weak.

Your fingers dig into your arms, wrapped around your legs, making little divots in your own flesh as your chest rises and falls in short pants.

The glare is expected. The way your pupils dilate, yawning wide black swallowing up your irises in the low light and then narrowing feverishly onto him like he's some sort of prey -

Hnnn. It makes him shiver.

He kneels at your bedside and says your name, only to receive a hiss.

"Do you want my blood?" Both of you know it. "You can have it. I'm right here, I came here to do this for you."

"Shut - " It hurts him to hear - your voice raw and cracked and hoarse, had you been drinking properly? " - UP, Satan. Get out."

He'll have none of that. For your sake, of course - and certainly not his, not because his blood is already flowing downwards, pooling in his gut at the predatory look in his eyes -

"No," Satan tells you, only for you to snarl at him and kick at him.

But he's a demon. He can take it.

After several moments of him getting close enough to feel the warmth of your body, you stay there, face tucked against your knees, ignoring him completely.

But you want it. He knows you have to want it... he just has to break your self-control.

The claws come out. He claws a careful line against his wrist, deep enough to draw just a trickle of blood.

You stiffen immediately. He can see your eyes, open wide and dilating, instantly seeking out the source of the scent.

"Go away," You rasp, drawing back on your mattress.

He reaches out to pet your hair, with the wrist he'd cut, and you scramble back, uncurling - exactly as he'd liked, you're panting now, breathing in the irresistible smell, catching the red that drips down in his forearm.

"Do you want it to go to waste?" His low voice asks you, and it takes everything you have not to dive forward.

You swallow hard - the dryness in your mouth only reminds you how parched you are, how hungry.

How nothing could sate your hunger like this could -

No. No, no. You don't need this. You don't.

Satan's curious. Maybe he even wants to help you. He doesn't know what feeding does to the victim, or to the vampire, when it's done live. You can't do this to him.

And clenches his hand, like the clever little prick he is, causing more blood to trickle out.

You're - you're so hungry. Achingly.

It's empty, like a hole in your stomach, a yearning that hollows you out, your throat is so dry, and the aroma that floods your senses as he waves his meal in your face -

Without your permission, your hands dart out, clutching at his fingers and drawing his blooding wrist towards you.

But he... what if he... if he thinks -

The taste of his blood hits your tongue. It's warm, flowing savory over your tongue like juices running from a fine, tender steak.

It's so good. It's so fucking good.

You'd been starving, ravenous, and it floods your senses, filling your mouth as you wrap your lips around his cut.

Satan can learn his lesson like a big boy. He's a grown up demon. He'll be alright.

He offered... you drink, lap at it more and more, swallowing tiny drops that burst with flavor and make your mouth water even as you draw more from him.

You deserve this. You deserve him. You deserve to have as much of him as you want, taste all that you want.

Satan catches your eyes, looking up at his as your mouth closes over his wrist. Pupils blown wide in want, gaze full of fevered desire as he feels you tense as you stare him down.

There's a heat that blooms on his cheeks. His gaze locked in yours, transfixed, as the throb in his arm grows heavier, until he can feel it in his chest, and lower, lower...

Your lips pursing against his skin as you suck at him, burning hot, that lurid look you give him when you pull away with a pop, that pretty mouth just barely parted; he's never seen anything so beautiful.

How soft those lips had been, how nicely they'd pressed against him, how good they'd feel around his -

Soon, his lips are parted and panting, too.

You drink him in one further moment; his gorgeous features, flushed cheeks, golden hair and pretty, pale skin bobbing over his throat.

And then you strike.

Diving in for his throat, latching on as you launch yourself onto him, uncaring of where or what position you end up in.

Satan catches you, arms wrapping around your waist, shifting you into a straddling position as he turns you both around so he can rest his back against your bedframe and remain upright while you drink.

The pinch of teeth against his neck flares in pain, but the squirm of your tongue distracts him, the sound of your breath heavy, close to his ear, dominating his awareness.

You don't hold anything back. You're so hungry. He tastes so good.

His skin is warm, supple, yielding beneath you, blood pouring so easily right into the empty hole of your stomach.

It tastes good it's so good you drink and drink and it'll never be enough.

This is yours. It's all yours. This soft skin, salty, the pulse that dances with your lips like a kiss, the vibrations through his throat as he moans.

He wants you. He's yours. Satan is all yours yours yours you can have all of him -

"Ah - ahhhh... hnng, were you... that hungry...?"

You purr against him with another heavy swallow. It's leaking out your mouth, sticky, and you want to lap up every drop of it but you're just so hungry, so empty, and it's all you can do to press into his wound to send blood surging through faster.

Savory and delectable, sweetened by the heat of lust, by the aching throb you can feel between his legs against your knee; not a drop, not a drop can go to waste, it belongs to you.

The thought prompts you to bite down even harder, and he moans again. His neck aches in the best way, in the hot, fevered euphoria of being devoured with a passion.

You feel more blood rush into your mouth, and the delicious tremble of his moans, and you eat it all up, like you deserve.

It's like ambrosia on your lips. You'll never give this up.

Satan lays there, compliant, obedient, subject to a strange bliss he'd never known. Light and airy, radiating through his whole body with a delicate tickle, as if his veins were bubbling champagne.

There's no pain at his neck, only the warmth of you against him, nursing like a kitten.

Suckling gently at his neck in time with the pulse of his cock, throbbing distantly between his legs. The lust that soars through him is strong, but sedated, as the pleasure overcomes him in gentle waves.

There's no feeling like it. Has he even cum yet? It feels like a climax in slow motion, the delicious release warming him as you take your fill of him.

He swears he feels you whisper mine against his neck, your fingers curling ownership into his chest, legs locking on either side of him.

This was how hungry you were? How much you needed this?

A pinch against his neck, a hard suck, as you greedily draw another mouthful from him, and another rush of ecstasy radiates through his flesh.

This was how much you need him?

Golden lashes flutter against pink cheeks as he closes his eyes, letting his head rest against your soft hair.

He lets his arms rest around you, weakly; maybe if he does, you'll realize he wants you close, too? That he's yours, that he'd give anything he had to give, if only he knew you wanted it?

A gentle sigh of pure relief, of comfort and bliss, brushes against the bare skin of his neck, and Satan smiles.

You probably know already anyways.

#obey me #satan #satan x reader #lemon flavored #gn reader #reader is also a vampire #ambiguous reader #long post

[umbrvx]

#omniscient reader's viewpoint #omniscient readers viewpoint #orv #yoo joonghyuk #yjh #im artblocked but i had to squeeze something in before the end of the year so help me god #edit: i just realized the figures can be construed as kdj. to be clear my intent was for it to all be yjh #BUT i think since its a bit ambiguous anyways u can interpret it as ud like/prefer #i dont really like telling ppl how to interpret my work but.... im adding this note in case

[starch1ldz]

Venom au

Emily: I sleep with a knife under my pillow.

Morgan: Weak. I sleep with a gun.

Spencer: You’re both pathetic

Morgan: What do you sleep with?

Spencer: Y/n.

#starchildz incorrect quotes #keith stop making new aus #my aus are based loosely around my actual ocs but i just leave appearance and nams ambiguous #cause im silly like that #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid criminal minds #dr spencer reid #im mentally unwell #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x male reader #criminal minds x male reader #bau x male reader #bau x reader #criminal minds bau #venom symbiote #venom symbiote au #venom au #criminal minds fandom

[bigdorks]

holding hands | hobie brown

Warnings: smut so 18+, afab reader, not proof read either so soz 4 the grammatical errors :p WC: 0.6k

You had a small obsession with Hobie's hands. And you weren't afraid to admit it.

In fact, you felt unashamed in how much you loved when he touched you with his broad palms and long fingers, how his hands felt delightfully heavy when he rested them against your skin. Didn't even care how obvious you were when you asked him to use his deft fingers to rub down the length of your back to cure an ache that wasn't there.

Sometimes, you watched him work with his hands as though in a trance. Watched when ringed fingers carefully embellished his garms with metal spikes or handcrafted cloth patches. Or when calloused fingertips held down the worn strings of his guitar as he strummed a euphonious rhythm with his pick. Or when bulging veins and tendons flexed with the twirl of a screwdriver as he worked to reverse engineer tech far more advanced than your time. 

For that reason, as you kneeled before him from where he sat on the bed and eagerly watched him stroke himself to completion, you couldn't help but be fixated on his hands.

"Are you gonna cum?" You ask, almost desperately. 

"F-fuck, yeah, yeah." He repeats as his hand swirls around his sticky tip, cock still slick and creamy from your release. His other hand tilts your head back and up, fingers pressing into your lower face. "I'm so close."

"Yeah, you're gonna cum all over me?" You ask breathily, hands stroking his tensed thighs, to which he nods in a jerky motion, still focused on chasing his pleasure.

"Mmhm. You need it, huh? Need me to cum for you." His flushed desire is hidden by the deep brown of his skin but shown by his lustful expression and the sweat that drenches the edges of his lineup and sides of his face, sliding around metal piercings and angular planes. 

You can feel that same heat on your skin, between your thighs, growing more intense with each wet click of his sliding fist, still so insatiable despite the many times he made you come tonight.

"Yes, baby. Please, give it to me." You say pleadingly, which seems to push him over the edge.

His eyes close, his flat stomach clenches, and his face screws up as he climaxes. Groans and curses spill from his lips like a river.

Each spurt of pearly white cum from his twitching dick splattered across your breasts and neck, some even landing on your face despite his aim for your chest, causing you to close your eyes. You sit there on your knees, still and willing, as he reaches the heights of gratification, painting your face and body in his essence. 

In the aftermath, you gently wipe your eyes and open them to see Hobie already staring at you with a look so unabashedly depraved a bolt of excitement strikes right through you. 

He seemingly gives into his lecherous desires and drags a finger through the valley of your breasts to collect some of the mess he just made.

"Open." He orders even though he pulls your jaw down himself.

Obediently, you suck the cum off his finger as he feeds it to you, moaning at the taste. Despite the soreness in your limbs, you're tempted to go another round. And if the fiery look in his eyes is any indication, he feels the same as you.

"There we go," He says approvingly with a stare full of hunger as his hand rubs soothingly along where he held your jaw.

You can't help but smile brightly at his praise, nuzzling into his hand, looking up at him with adoration in your gaze.

Yeah, you loved many things about Hobie, but his hands would always be your favorite part of him.

#hobie brown x reader #hobie brown smut #hobie brown x black!reader #but it's seems kinda ambiguous sooo whatever #emlikes2write

[pillowspace]

*Eclipse voice* is something wrong with my cat? It won't purr

#celestial sundown au #pillowspace art #dca fandom #dca au #fnaf eclipse #dca y/n #celestial sundown eclipse #uhhhhh #eclipse x reader #eclipse x y/n #dca x reader #dca x y/n #i don't know if it's like actually romantic. i think eclipse more just has an ambiguous attachment

[dulcewrites]

Fool Me Once (pt 2)

Pairing: Aemond targaryen x reader (wc: 3.6k)

Summary: Despite learning about Aemond cheating on you, life has never been sweeter. Who knew being so bad could be so good.

Warnings: manipulation, mentions/allusions to pregnancy issues, mentions of self harm

A/N: first, I just have to say thank you for the response to part 1. I truly had no idea it would get the reception it would. Thank you to everyone who followed me as well. I hope I can continue to produce stuff y’all like. I’m hoping to write more hotd stuff, Aemond and non Aemond related. I plan on taking a small hiatus but will be back around thanksgiving weekend. I will be writing on/off during that time but just away for a trip/the holiday. If you have any hotd requests my inbox is always open. I would try to get them out either before my hiatus next week (11/16) or after it ends (11/26). I’m pretty open to writing any character, though I will warn you I’m way more fascinated by the greens so they just come easier to me. Anyway please reblog, like, and follow if you read anything you enjoy 🫶🏽🫶🏽. And some housekeeping: in this Aegon is not r*pist who enjoys watching children fight (the hotd are truly…. not right for the cartoonishly evil way they wrote Aegon). He’s just petty and neglected. Also the timing of this is different from the books bc Aemond meets Alys pre dance.

Fmo masterlist

Blog Masterlist

A bastard Strong. The irony is not lost on you. Your straight-laced husband fucking someone who is the complete opposite you. Older, no kids, no title, and no duty to uphold. At this point, it doesn’t hurt anymore. Instead, it makes your blood boil in the most delicious way. Aemond’s betrayal made you realize how you’ve been going through the motions; endlessly sleepwalking, hoping one day Aemond would come around. It woke you up to how much he’s taken advantage of you. He sees your kindness, and aversion to standing out as a weakness. Something he can manipulate and twist like one of his daggers.

The both of you must have forgetten where you came from. A rich, well respected house. The only daughter of smart, albeit conniving, family that knows how to get what they want. Your family didn’t have dragons or absurd ideas of exceptionalism to help you gain power. You’ve learned that inflated egos and prideful indulges can cloud Targaryen judgment. A trait you hope skips your children.

Shame on you for thinking Aemond would be different. Shame on him for the carefully curated facade.

All you do after Larys Strong comes to you the first time is think. You can’t remember the last time you’ve had this many options in front of you. Your mother’s words about patience run through your head. Keeping your wits is key. Play your hand too quickly, and you lose all leverage. You have Daella and the babe in your belly to think about. You stood pat in the beginning; Lord Strong simply relaying messages to you. You make sure Alys gets the letter Aemond wrote, and the ones after that. Lord Larys makes sure you get the details of each letter exchanged.

When the days grew lonely, and your body aches because of the babe in your stomach, you think about the letters. The declarations of love and recounts of lust filled meetups simmer in your head, but it’s the mentions of you that makes the anger sizzle and crackle. It makes the guilt you feel wash away.

You question if the rumor is true. That his Alys is a witch. Does her magic allow her to see the way Helaena can? Fuzzy premonitions and dreams that only make sense after they happen; a gift and a curse. A part of you wishes it to be true. You hope while your stomach stirs with untold truths, hers stirs with regret. Maybe the pain that runs through you leaves an unfamiliar taste in her mouth. That she can’t quite put her finger on it, but she feels you.

You wonder if when Aemond prays, he asks the Father to protect him… to protect her. The same way when you pray, you ask the Warrior to help you find the courage to destroy him.

It started with a bruise. A bruise that you don’t even remember how you got. Maybe one of those things you just wake up with. But it’s there, on the inside part of your left arm. It’s starting to fade but an otherwise noticeable bruise that stands out when you wear something with shorter sleeves.

The idea doesn’t come to you till you see the curiosity in Alicent’s eyes when you absentmindedly rub the bruise while asking if she’s seen Aemond. It’s only you two in the walkway; an unusually quiet day at the Red Keep. Her eyes go from it to the far away look in your eyes. It makes her tilt her head in thought.

“No dear, I haven’t,” her eyes go back to the scratch. “Are you doing alright? I know for some, the second babe can be even harder than the first.”

You look down at your arm, and something just clicks.

“I’m fine,” you start, then you make your voice tremble a bit. “I will be fine. I think I’m just tired.”

You give her a strained smile, and she returns one that tells you she doesn’t believe you. You can feel her big brown eyes burning into your back when you walk past her towards your chambers. There could be two thoughts in her head: you did this yourself or someone else did it to you. Either way, her son’s sweet pregnant lady wife is not doing well, and her son is nowhere to be found. Queen Alicent is one of the smartest, if not the smartest, person you know. She sees the change in her son; the change in the dynamic between Aemond and you.

It hits you. It would be too easy to physically harm Aemond. Though the idea of taking the blade that hangs from his hips and putting it to his throat has crossed your mind more times than you’re proud of. It would be too easy to get Larys to kill Alys. You don’t want to give Aemond the satisfaction of having his whore’s blood on your hands.

Where’s the fun in killing when your rage could be channeled into something more… methodical.

Under all that false bravado is the little boy who got picked on for not having a dragon. To break the man means bringing out that little boy. A truly broken man can’t love anyone. Isolation, and self hatred. What a gorgeous combination for your dear husband.

If this is going to work you need to up the ante.

So, you write. If Aemond and Alys can document their love, you can document your pain. You sent your lady in waiting out to get a blank book from one of the maesters. The color dyed cow skin feels smooth under your hands. There needs to be a slow build. Each day you grow closer and closer to shattering. Whoever reads it needs to know Aemond brought you to this place. He is the villain in the story of the poor, innocent wife that did nothing but carry his children and try to love him.

It will read like a diary, but to you it is a creation. A mixture of truth and imagination. A manifestation of pent up feelings. Purging and revenge all rolled up into one. You make sure to mention how terrified you are for your safety, and for you children’s safety. How an angry or disenchanted Aemond is nothing to toy with, especially if he has a bastard witch on his side. How maybe life would be better for Aemond if you just weren’t around.

But this fading bruise isn’t enough. Neither is just having a diary that will be discovered in due time. A deep cut, a dark bruise, half hazardously placed hand prints.. now that could work.

There’s something cathartic about the pain you feel when the dagger slices through your skin. The blood is so red and warm. It smears so smoothly on the page. Blood on your dress, cloth pressed to the wound, and wandering the halls is how Ser Criston finds you. You notice the worried, confused look in his eyes when you stutter out an ‘I don’t know’ when he asks what happened.

As the maester tends to your wound, you notice how Alicent and Criston stand in the corner of Alicent’s quarters. They occasionally glance at you while they whisper to each other. You recognize the familiar crinkle she gets in her forehead when she’s upset. All her children do it too.

“Sweetling, we both think it might be a good idea to give you your own knight of the kingsguard,” she sits next you. “Just to help you and… keep an eye on you during this vulnerable time.”

You blink. Not one mention of her son. But it’s clear to see how Ser Criston is with his queen. Submissive, and utterly devoted. Having someone like that is an asset. So, you smile weakly and nod. The more people who see you in this way, the better.

Ser Quinton Throne was quiet in the beginning. As if he was scared to be in your space. A far cry from the rambunctious knight his brother, Rickard, is. Moving past the initial shyness, he is attentive and even indulges Daella’s fascination with him. Despite you telling her not to, she would always run up to him, tugging on his white cloak to get his attention. She likes having someone around just as much as you.

The distance between Aemond and you had started to carry over into his relationship with Daella. Kids are more intuitive than adults give them credit for. Your throat felt tight when you daughter finally asks where father goes. You lie; it comes easy to you, easier than you thought it would. It makes you think if this is how easy it is for Aemond to lie to you. Or for everyone to not gloss over the clear problems in your life.

You would lying if you said it wasn’t nice having a man around, even if it was his job. It was Aemond’s job to do right by you, and he couldn’t do that. A man carrying out his orders with a warm smile was welcomed. The comfort of having someone who sweared his allegiances to you, and only you, and intended on keeping them.

You look from your embroidery loop to see Daella and Ser Quinton sword fighting with wooden swords. It’s an uncharacteristically sunny day. Perfect to get much needed fresh air, and apparently going to battle.

“She’s gotten quite good.”

Like a storm rolling in to ruin a sunny day, your husband’s tone is ever cold and distant. You hate the uncomfortable energy that radiates when he sits next to you.

“Yes, she has,” you stare at the Lysene lilac flower starting to come to life on your loop. “He’s good with her as well.”

You know he won’t like you saying that. He hates Quinton being around, and he especially hates how Daella taken a liking to him. Aemond scoffs and mumbles something under his breath you can’t make out.

“It’s just lovely having real protector around,” you continue to push your luck. “Someone so attentive and… strong.“

You look at with his a sickening sweet smile. He opens his mouth to say something, a complaint or rude comment since those seem to be the only reasons he talks to you, but he is interrupted by Daella yelling out for him.

“We’ll talk about this later,” he mutters to you, getting up.

“Oh you’ll actually be here long enough for that?”

The words slip out your mouth and it makes him turn to glare at you. It reminds you of the gossip you heard about him when you first arrived at court. How cold the king’s second son can be. It should’ve been a warning to you.

Quinton takes it as his cue to leave them be; you know he can sense how much Aemond doesn’t appreciate his presence. You watch as Daella clings to her father. As selfish as it sounds, you patiently wait for the day she too realizes he can’t be depended on.

“My mother used to make me embroider,” your knight’s voice breaks you out of looking on. “Something about being dangerous with a needle is just as great as being dangerous with a sword.”

You take a good look at him. If Aemond is the moon - ethereal, mysterious, and always changing, then Quinton is the sun. Bright, forward facing, and shines brighter with time. His choppy black hair, beard, and warm standing in contrast to your husband’s Targaryen features.

“Sounds like a smart woman,” you smile as he sits next to you.

His eyes linger on your embroidery work before traveling to you right arm. The blade wound was just starting to scab and scar over. His first day on duty was marked by seeing your husband give a long lecture on safety and ‘using your brain’ after Aemond saw your wound. The blade cut wasn’t under pure circumstances, but the look of resentment on your face was real. He saw that. He’s never asked what really happened to your arm.

“How are you my lady,” he whispers. You told him he can address you by your name, but he still insist on the formal names especially around others. “Is the babe giving you trouble.”

Ser Quinton, Helaena, and Alicent are the only people that seem to care about your well being, on top of the babe’s. Aemond concern went making sure the babe was fine to just not asking all together. It’s better that way, you think. You don’t think you’d be able to take fake concern about your little ‘mistake’.

“My bladder is being pushed on, I’m finding clumps of my hair on my pillow, and Maester Oliver told me this baby will weigh more than Daella did,” you reply lightly. “But other than that I’m doing fine.”

This pregnancy had knocked you on your ass. You’re sure the stress and thoughts that consume you don’t help. You know how it feels to come into a fracture family; it makes you feel awful for the babe in your stomach. Your parents tried hard, frankly too hard, to pretend things were good between them. Trying to prove their union was more than a duty for their houses. Till this day, you don’t know what’s worse: knowing they didn’t share that love or the years you watched them fake everything. They had ambitions, and to carry them out there needed to be an appearance of an united front. You took your father’s lead, knowing he always tried to have your best interest. The relationship you have with your mother often ebbing and flowing, especially since your marriage.

When you ravened your mother about your pregnancy troubles, she tells you that this is your responsibility to your husband. Harsh and utterly true. You don’t know if your father ever had indiscretions like Aemond, but you know she’d never plot the way you do. Her calculating nature showing up in different ways. Instead of going after him, she chose to focus on elevating you.

Her and Queen Alicent remind you of each other. Devoted to a fault. A victim who had no other choice but to fall in line.You pray for the both of them. Pray that they find peace with the sacrifices they’ve made. Pray that you never get that far. A shell of yourself. Duty, responsibility, cleaning up others’ messes - what a dull way to live.

“Once he’s out, I’m sure it will all be worth it,” says Ser Quinton, voice not wavering.

He’s trying to be kind, mentioning the working theory in the castle that you’re having a boy. You try to smile at the thought. It’s hard to believe that. Plan or not, you still have to know the truth about the father of your children. There is hole left in your heart about that. Him disrespecting you is one thing, but his words pertaining to your unborn child is another. A sudden spurt of anger rushes over you thinking about everything. It makes you stand abruptly.

“I’m feeling tired,” you watch as Daella pretend to stab her father with her sword. Her giggles ringing out when he reaches to pick her up. The dichotomy of Aemond Targaryen will always fascinate you as much as it terrifies you. How he manages to smile in her face, and lie to yours is quite a sight to watch. “I’ll send Margret out to get Daella.”

Waiting for the perfect moment is not going to work. There no time like the present.

The stiff upper lip of this family is something you noticed the moment you stepped into their presence. It’s seeped into the way they gatekeep a dying Viserys. Alicent is cold and collected in the most beautiful way. A sharp glittering icicle. A pretty rose littered with thorns to keep you admiring from a distance. Even Helaena, who you consider a friend, keeps certain things close to the chest. It’s better to keep the full truth away from her.

But there’s Aegon.

Pitiful, and lonely Prince Aegon. A drunk with a bad attitude. But he’s also the most painfully self-aware person you know. There will be times that you and him exchange looks, as you are in on the joke. That everything is a farce. One day someone will just come up and say it’s all been a bad dream. You think it’s the reason why he frustrates Aemond so much. The teasing on top of him never taking the Targaryen name seriously. Aegon spends his days trying to drink and fuck his way out of thinking about his life. Stuck in a royal cuckold. The first born son of a king with nothing to show for it.

He’s messy, nosy, and so openly brash. He’s your missing chess piece. The perfect pawn.

You leave the diary around places in the castle you know he will be. It’s not until you conveniently leave it in the play room where all Daella, Jaehaera, and Jaehaerys all frequent that you know he’s taken the bait. His lilac eyes seem to follow you whenever you two are in the same room. It takes days for him to confront you; book in hand and wry look on his face.

“Is it true? Everything you wrote?”

You stroke your belly while looking at him, a small smile on your face.

“Does it matter that if it is,” you tilt your head, and his eyes glitter with something you’re not used to seeing.

He mirrors your head tilt with a full blown smile on his face this time. It’s like a bright light after weeks of darkness. A person who also sees through the bullshit that enraptures once you call yourself a Targaryen.

“I greatly underestimated you my good sister,” he whispers. You know he’s thinking about his own words. ‘Pretty but horribly dull’.

“That’s fine,” you motion to the seat next to you. “You can make it up to me.”

Queen Alicent stands facing the fire. Aegon, Helaena, and Ser Quinton off to the side. All of them standing across from where you sit. Aegon gives you a knowing look while Quinton’s eyes are filled with pity and anger. Pity for his princess, anger towards his prince. Helaena looks like she wants to say something.

“I… do not know what to say,” her voice is strained with pain. You know this hurts for her. The image of the perfect son being destroyed. The pedestal she put him on crumbling before him.

You’ve gotten better at crying after Aegon told you tears will be necessary to sell it. It’s an automatic response now. The perfectly timed emotion that breaks like flood gates when Alicent holds out the diary. You say you’re embarrassed. That you never meant for anyone to read it, especially not anyone in the family. Aegon gets to be the concerned good brother. He rubbed your back, while his mother called for Helaena. She needed to know who else knew about this.

“I can say what everyone is thinking,” Aegon pipes up. “He’s a fucking cunt.”

“Aegon.”

His mother turns to glare at him, but it doesn’t deter him.

“Walking around with that self righteousness just to fuck a Strong,” he scoffs. “Calling his child a mistake?”

The words makes Alicent sigh, and squeeze her eyes shut. Helaena continues to play with her fingers with a quizzical look in her eye. If Aegon of all people can judge, the actions must be bad.

“This all my fault,” you decide to take it up a notch. Your breath catches. “I must’ve done something to deserve this.”

“Oh my sweet girl,” Alicent walks over and sits next to you, pulling you into her chest. “None of this is your fault.

“I just don’t know what I did to deserve this,” you continue. That part is true; what the seven hells did you do to deserve this marriage? “This, and the baby, and missing my family. I’m just so unhappy here.”

Alicent strokes your hair. You can feel her heart thumping in her chest. You can tell she’s upset and scared. Scared for what your unhappiness means. You’re a risk now.

“Maybe… my father can come and visit. He hasn’t been here since Daella was born.”

After you got married, your parents left court to tend to your house. They felt their work was done. That the marriage was as far as their political ambitions can go. They visit from time to time to see their granddaughter but normally you’re the one who has to make the trip.

“Of course,” you can see the wheels turning in her head. “I’m sure the Hand would love to pick his brain on some things. Your father has always been so kind and helpful”

Queen Alicent is as predictable as she is smart. Your dad thought your marriage would help him get a seat in the small council. When no offer came, his ego was bruised. If your marriage couldn’t, maybe a desperate Alicent can. The idea of sending a raven about the news makes you have to bite back a smile. An ally in an castle full of strangers.

“I’ll speak to Aemond about this,” she nods to herself. “You don’t need to be worrying about this in your condition.”

The disappointment is clear in smooth voice. Before you can reply with a thank you, Helaena finally piped up.

“A baby’s green eyes spurs brighter skies.”

She mutters it before looks at you curious. You look down at your swollen belly, feeling confused. Neither Aemond or you have green eyes. You try to push the sinking feeling out of your stomach. Even Aegon, who normally ignores Helaena’s cryptic language, has perked up a little.

You take a look at Ser Quinton… his eyes as green as spring grass.

Ok this is my first one doing a tag list, so I’m sorry for those I’ve missed. It only let me do 50??? Idk it’s it’s different on desktop or I’m doing something wrong. Hopefully I can find a more conducive way for this. I also only tagged people who specifically asked: @afro-hispwriter @crispmarshmallow @unabashedlyswimmingtimemachine @its-sam-allgood @lol-im-done @grey-water-colors @sassysaxsolo @justsumstufff @lilithskywalker @dc-marvel-girl96 @bekky06 @claudie-080102 @cloudroomblog @shelbythequeen @crazylokonugget @solacestyles @instantpeachpeace @katyadenauer @nsainmoonchild @deeeeexx @iwanttohitmyself @rosa-berberifolia @noisyinfluencerstrawberry @princessmiaelicia @bregarc @castellomargot @thesadvampire @chaosmagiq @icarusignite @happinessinthebeing @flavorofsalt @wishfulwithwine @slut-for-eddie-munson @rosaryos @mistalli @inana-mm @winxschester @papery-maniac @nolongereviliwantlove @fultimefangirl @missusnora @skinmittensgoblin @duckworthbean @b00kdiary @chiyausu @alexandra-001 @tachibubu @juneisreading @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @verycollectivecreator

#aemond x oc #hotd imagine #my writing #sorry for the delay.. the tagging kicked my butt 😭 #also if there’s typos I’m sorry 💀💀 #also sorry for once again leaving it ambiguous… couldn’t help myself #aemond targaryen x reader #black!reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #Aemond targaryen

[azulock]

Okay but how funny would it be if Kaiser and Isagi got a crush on Noel Noas daughter...the CHAOS AHAHAHA

Akehakehsk god that's not even playing with fire anymore it's straight up tnt

But ok ok we gonna have to bend the rules a little here cause we got Noa's canon age and he's just 31, nowhere near old enough to have a kid around Kaiser's or even isagi's age. So we gonna have to age him up and go with coach!Noah and pro player!Kaiser and pro player!Isagi. And reader as Noa's daughter who is just as bad at displaying emotion as her old man

Kaiser and Isagi with a crush on Noa's daughter

⟳ Honestly, the match up from hell for everyone involved. Kaiser and Isagi already can't stand each other, Bastard Munchen getting the short end of the stick here. While I'm pretty sure those two would try to behave okay for their own careers and cause Noa is always watching, this would be just another reason to make them try to one up each other at any cost during games.

⟳ They probably first saw you during training, when you'd gone to visit your father for some reason. Neither realized you were Noa's daughter cause there isn't that much of a physical resemblance. Kaiser would probably try to strike up conversation - and Isagi would use the excuse of freeing you from Kaiser to take his chance. Both got a reality check when Noa showed up and called you "daughter". After that it took just a little bit of watching the two of you for the guys to realize you were a lot like Noa.

⟳ Isagi is a Noa fanboy so the crush would just leave him ecstatic - like, of course he is into Noa's daughter. A tad weird, but, you know. Kaiser on the other hand hates your old man, so the crush leaves him with conflicting feelings. Why did that robot of a guy gotta have a hot daughter? And you were also just as weird, but even that he found endearing. Not the easiest time for Kaiser.

⟳ If you ever show up to visit your father at work after this they are just gonna try to compete with each other during training. I'm pretty sure Noa would take a little while to figure out why they are suddenly giving 110% (and he'd try to stop them cause that's how you sprain something) but after the third time he'd get it. And oh boy if they piss him off enough with that they are getting an earful. Noa would probably ask you to show up less if it comes to that.

⟳ If you like going to the matches then all bets are off, they really will try to compete and be the one to take home the winning goal. You are hard to crack so they just go for the most basic thing they can think of: impressing you. Which, also hard, with you inheriting Noa's perfect poker face they can't tell if you are ever impressed by anything. Tho, on that front Kaiser probably has a leg up in learning how to read you, given how Germans are just like that too.

⟳ They'll try to find any chance they'd get to talk to you, any chance, which is not many. It'd probably happen mostly on team events or if you'd stuck around to talk to your father after a match. Isagi would probably try to be more low-key with displaying his interest, but Kaiser is Kaiser, he doesn't do lowkey. They'd probably be slightly scared of making any move at first but they relax a bit when Noa seems not to care. He does care, but your father is sure you can take care of yourself.

⟳ Probably silently competing to see who can get an emotion out of you, cause the only time they saw you crack a smile was to Noa. When Noa smiled back the whole team froze for a second. This is all an unspoken thing, all of their competitions are, they probably never even acknowledged their interest to each other. They just know, cause obviously they do, and it just became a fight.

⟳ Isagi is silently stalking your socials, Kaiser is smoothly sliding into your dms. Isagi tries to know as much about you as possible for the few chances he gets to talk to you, while Kaiser is much better at just winging it. Isagi might try to ingratiate himself with Noa more in attempts to get closer to you, Kaiser just doesn't, hell just try to find ways to bypass Noa, you are an adult so you shouldn't be too hung up on what your father thinks.

⟳ God have mercy on Noa if you ever decide to give any attention to those two, the whole thing will probably only get worse. And if you ever do pick one of them to go out with? Then may the devil have mercy on him cause his job will become straight up hell. And oh boy don't let the paparazzi see you in a date with one of them, there is no mercy coming from the gossip websites.

#bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #isagi yoichi x reader #michael kaiser x reader #I don't generally write readers who are related to characters cause *gestures to all light skinned characters and my ambiguously brown ass* #But this was cool this was fun

[azul-marie]

ada. (enamour)

fem. reader. love rivalry including ada/reader/leon. (focus on reader)

something cold digs in between your shoulder blades, sending shivers up tense muscles.

it’s a sudden sensation. catches you off guard you forget to call out to leon, whose back is turned to you whilst sifting through paper files laying across an abandoned wooden desk. the latest room you’ve snuck into seemed abandoned enough — save for its open window rocking back and forth on screeching bolts. they must’ve entered through there mere seconds before the two of you did.

warm, sweet breath tickles your earlobe. another round of shivers overtake your senses. this time, through, you recover quickly enough to react.

your hand flies to your pocketed blade and in an instant is pressed up to their throat. it is then you realize, recognize who your company is. she smiles serenely at you, acting like the knife at her neck isn’t sharp enough to slice through bone. she bears her pistol with all the grace of someone who’s caught you in her web, not the other way around.

“long time no see, kitten.”

her deadpan voice practically echoes through the silence of the night. finally surprising your partner into turning around. what surprises him further is the way ada gazes at you, almost identical to the way she did at him all those years ago.

“ada.” leon says plainly, hand hovering over his own pistol. his eyes flicker between the two of you, to the way your hand fumbles with your blade, to how she smiles a little too suggestively for someone being threatened. he’s certain you’re about to push her down, or for her to knock the knife away from your obviously loosened grip — neither happen.

instead, you carefully tuck your blade away and greet her with a coy smile of your own.

“i wasn’t expecting you here, red.” your arms cross, a guard of sorts. you knew full well of the games she liked to play. she holds your eyes as she slips her pistol back in its holster, searching for something you refuse to show. it’s been a long time, indeed, but you still remember how to compose yourself around her. it’s all rather flattering.

ada circles you, trailing her fingertips over your shoulders. her silky touch is the only weapon in her grasp, but it is perhaps her most dangerous. she takes pleasure in the way you shift beneath her watch, how your pretty face fights to remain mild. she’s no fool. she sees the smile playing at those luscious lips of yours — why bother hiding it? she’s all sultry eyes just for you, now that she’s finally managed to separate your stuffy partner’s hip from yours. seems he hadn’t changed after all. he really was the clingy type.

it was cute. once. not when he happened to be clingy with you of all people.

“once i heard you were around, i just couldn’t help myself.” her arm comes to rest around the curve of your waist. her fingers press into the flesh of your hip, easing you closer. her lips hover over the soft of your neck, almost kissing a path up to your ear. your breathing stutters, and she purrs, “wanted to stop by and catch up with my favorite girl, is all.”

you scoff, but there’s no stopping the heat rising up and over your face. those pretty lips of yours finally turn up in a smile, bashful like a schoolgirl crush. the temptation to run her thumb over your bottom lip runs strong — until an awkward, intentional clear of a throat interrupts the thought.

“i’d appreciate if you left my partner alone.” leon interjects, striding to stand tall besides you. in a swift motion he interweaves your elbows together and pulls you towards him, at once halting the hold she had on you. it’s a comfortable, possessive sort of touch. how quaint. cute little leon, still wearing his heart on his sleeve.

given the way his hand clamps around yours, he must really have it bad. what a shame. for him.

ada is slow to drag her eyes away from you. she even runs them up, down, over your lovely body for good measure. she can’t have leon thinking she isn’t willing to compete — two can play at that game. his fuming glower tells her he’s gotten the message loud and clear. as he should. she zeros in on the way his grip tightens around yours, again, cozily touching you as if you were his.

a quirk of her brow suggests ire. “glad to see you, leon. to think, after all this time, you’re still such a lucky man. who would’ve thought she’d end up being your partner?”

the two of them stare each other down with such intensity you wonder what other history they share aside from you. tension seeps into the chill of the nighttime air. leon’s coiled up so tightly it raises worry, and you find yourself wrapping your arms around his bicep to placate him. for all you know, the mysterious plagas infecting him could thrive off stress, and he’s already had plenty of that so far.

almost immediately does your touch have him redirecting his notice towards you. his intense gaze softens at your pretty eyes studying him. his broad shoulders gradually relax in your embrace. he’s visibly calmed by the simple act, much to ada’s amusement — and her vexation. her fingertips dig into her palms, wishing it was your hands beneath them instead.

“ada, why are you really here?” you inquire, and she’s pleased when you finally set sights back on her. she’s not fond of the questioning, however. she purses her lips. her expression morphs into a cautious neutral. you’re aware you won’t be getting a direct answer, no matter how much she likes you.

ada sighs, “oh, sweetheart. you know i don’t work and tell.”

guarded, she saunters to the opposite end of the room to the very window she slithered in through, overlooking the bleak scenery with little interest. you slip past leon to follow after her, grasping her fingers to keep her from going any further. pleasant warmth seeps through from your fingertips to hers. there’s no time to relish it, although she longs to feel more. calculating eyes regard you and you alone.

“leave the girl,” demands ada. “she’s lost no matter what. you walk away now…and who knows? maybe you’ll live to meet me again.”

keeping her eyes locked on yours, she brings your hand to her lips, and presses a languid kiss across your knuckles. a stain of red now marks you as hers. play glimmers in her irises. “…maybe i’ll even take you on that date i promised.”

“you think we’re gonna give up that easy?” leon’s voice cuts in, weighed with barely contained venom.

“right.” ada exhales a laugh. how true. the two of you really are perfect for one another. hearts of gold, heads full of dreams. she turns towards a silently seething leon, whose eyes pierce her every move. he does a poor job at hiding his envious glare towards your entwined hands. “how about we continue this discussion another time?”

she drops your hand unceremoniously, in favor of pressing a kiss to your cheek. the pulse of your racing heart is nearly tangible. such a sweet girl, flustered by a simple kiss. longing parts her lips in their journey up to your ear to whisper, “stay safe, beautiful.” she pulls away with an air of nonchalance, committing to memory the clear look of shock she’s frozen you into. it takes all she has not to go back in for another kiss, for there’s no knowing where her lips will land if she does.

“keep her safe for me, will you, leon? she’s really quite precious, you know.”

and just like that, she’s gone.

you nearly stumble towards the creaking window for a vain glimpse into the night she’s disappeared through. half shocked, half mortified of your audience still gaping at you, you could only hope he wasn’t put off by the instance of his flirty adversary. or the fact you had no quarrels in encouraging her.

a hand wraps around yours, warm and tight.

“careful. leaning out a little too far there, don’t you think?”

leon sounds rather relieved now that it’s back to being the two of you. ada must’ve been a sore sight for whatever reasons he’s held within. you avoid his eyes to recollect yourself, murmuring apologies beneath your breath.

then, a touch upon your cheek, the very one she’d kissed, puts a stop to all thoughts. your eyes flutter up towards leon’s. his usually somber expression has turned sour, scowling and scorned in a way you’re unfamiliar with. his hand cups your face, thumb frantically rubbing off what must be a lipstick stain ada’s left behind. the intensity of his eyes only adds to your embarrassment, makes you wish he hadn’t seen her in the first place. maybe then he wouldn’t be upset, angry with the ghost of her presence.

“here i thought luis would be my only problem.” leon mutters, so softly you’d mistaken he’d spoken at all. when he notices the shift in your pretty eyes, the sweetsoft concern that struck him weak, his gaze mellows instantly, and he blinks rapidly as if coming out of a daze. rose pink springs across his face in a blooming blush, a bigger surprise than his supposed anger. he rips his hand away upon realizing himself, leaving you curious.

“i mean—i meant, she’s the last person i expected to run into here. it’s—it’s a long story. won’t bore you with it. just know she’s probably not worth trusting completely. it’s best you’re careful around her. i’d hate…i wouldn’t want you hurt.”

his voice goes quiet at the end. his head is turned away, body tight and tense, hands fiddling with the holsters of his weapons. it isn’t like leon to speak so personally. so openly about his emotions. and you know it isn’t because of ada’s mere presence, what must be a recollection of the past.

you touch your cheek, still warm from his skin.

“you’re the one i trust, leon. we came here together, and we’re leaving together. i’m with you until the end.”

courage overtakes bashful notions. you close in beside him, reach up to push a lock of his hair behind his ear. cup his shying face, a tender encouragement to share his vulnerability with you. leon’s eyes fall back on yours too easily, too swiftly for a simple friendship. you see it; he is incapable of masking it.

it’s somewhat of an honor he’s so fond of you. it’s a reminder to be gentle with his feelings, though you yourself may not have yours sorted out just yet. but it is ascertained that you care immensely for him, perhaps in the way he’d like you to. perhaps not. there’s plenty of time to work things out.

“i’m with you, ace.” you smile, tugging his cheek until he returns one of his own. “there’s no one else i’d rather have beside me. got it?”

leon nods, convinced. “yeah. thanks.”

you pay a playful pat to his cheek, satisfied with his answer. “good, good. now, why don’t we get moving? we wouldn’t want to keep miss ashley waiting. what were we even looking for in the first place? some kind of key?”

the mention of the mission reinvigorates him. “yeah, exactly. should be somewhere around here, if you can help me look.”

“sure! let’s just hope we can get by without someone interrupting again.”

“wouldn’t that be nice.” scoffs leon, slipping his fingers through yours to lead you back towards the other half of the room. this habit of wanting you close was really too cute. willingly do you allow him to take your hand as he pleases.

all the while you will your heart not to flutter at the lipstick still staining the other, red on red alike.

#resident evil 4 imagines #re4 imagines #resident evil imagines #re imagine #resident evil x reader #re4 x reader #ada wong imagines #ada wong x reader #leon kennedy imagines #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x reader #i’m so glad i finally wrote this LET’S GOOOO #i. am. SICK. so sick of being “jealous” of ada in fics. like…yall see her too right? she’s gorgeous and morally ambiguous right??? #so why can’t she flirt with ME?? why be jealous when we can be in LOVE??? why not let her desire ME carnally for once?? leon? i hardly know #anywho. jealous ada + reader fics just don’t mesh w/ me personally!! perhaps because i’m not a naturally jealous person haha #but ada and leon being incredibly jealous of each other + fighting over us though? hell yeah sister

[hanafubukki]

Death.

That’s what would end this dream.

But it wasn’t fair, this was supposed to be a happy dream was it not?

But someone needed to die in order for Lilia to wake up.

In order for them to stop Malleus.

It would be cruel to have Mallenoa die in front of Lilia, in a dream that was supposed to end happily.

It would be too much if any of you were to cause such a demise.

But any other answer would be just as cruel.

The devoted son? No, that would break Lilia.

The overly loyal prodigee? No, that would add trauma and guilt for Lilia and might affect his relationship with Baul.

Grim had little to no ties with Lilia, his death would not cause him to wake up nor would you allow any harm to come to him.

…so that left only one answer.

Yours.

It would have to be the shock from your death that would awaken everyone from this dream.

Your hands shook.

Will this work?

And if it didn’t, what would happen to you? To the others? To Malleus?

As you stare at Mallenoa and the victorious fae army celebrating their win against the Knight of Dawn.

You had made a choice.

You breathed.

Deep breathes in.

Deep breaths out.

You swiftly turned.

I’m so sorry.

You knew your choice would bring pain to a number of people. Lilia and Malleus, who would lose a sister and mother respectively. They would also loose you if anything went wrong in this dream and reality.

Sebek, Silver, and Grim would feel devastated at not being able to stop you.

But this was the only way and the one least painful.

…you hoped.

You had never confessed your feelings to Lilia. You didn’t have the chance to, especially after he announced his departure.

And you couldn’t be selfish and weigh him down with your feelings.

But you hoped he cared enough about you that it would work. That the fleeing glances from General Lilia was an indicator of his feelings for you.

You allowed your self to be selfish just this once. You hoped that you would be enough to wake him up because anything else would be too painful.

If not, then at least it was just your death and the least painful of the four.

If this doesn’t work, I can at least keep Malleus company…despite his inky self and how awkward it might be.

By now, you can hear voices questioning what you were doing. You can hear the alarms in their voices as you near the edge of a cliff without any falter in your steps.

You turn around, there’s barely any space left between you and the air that would welcome you.

The others are in varying degrees of panic.

General Lilia had noticed the commotion by now, his eyes widening as he took in your form.

Good, he would be too far to get to you in time.

You smiled at them.

It will be alright.

…you fell back.

…only to wake up gasping back in Diasomnia’s lounge.

With several gasps echoing right after yours.

Part 2

#tw death #tw suicide implied #tw suicide #<- just in case #twst angst #first two tags implied since it is a dream world and not reality #Lilia Vanrouge #lilia vanrouge x reader #twst lilia vanrouge #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x you #hurt no comfort #kind of #open ending ish #hopefully ending #ambiguous ending

[radio-writes]

It's about time for your blood to spill + you should sleep + we were soulmates

(Congrats on the 300 followers btw!)

Now, The Echoes Interlace

300 Followers Event

Warnings: Blood, physical injuries to reader, ambiguous major character death(s), angst

Tags: Alastor x reader, gn reader, relationship can be read in any way

MDNI

"You always have looked so pretty in red, Al." You hummed as your combed your fingers through his soft hair. You pressed your fingers against his scalp, lightly massaging against his antlers.

The light static that varied in volume crackled. "Fuck you." Alastor managed to say as his head laid on your lap.

His smile was strained—present, of course, as it always was, but strained. The trail of blood from his mouth dripped from his chin, joining the warm pool under both your bodies.

"Rude." You scolded him. Your breath coming out in a hiss as Alastor dug his claws into an open wound on your leg. 

"Must you continue to hurt me? You're already dying." You glared down at him as you would at a misbehaving pet.

You leaned forward, easily removing his hand from your body without much of a struggle. He only had so much strength left after all. 

"Fuck you." Alastor repeated, static morphing his voice this time around.

"Yes, well, I get that you're mad, Al." You continued your casual tone. "But it was about time for your blood to spill, don't you think?"

You grunted as you leaned your back against the cold wall again, sighing as the tension on the wound across your stomach was lessened.

"F—"

"Fuck me, yes yes." You cut him off. "Save your strength or you'll die out faster."

Alastor didn't mean to listen to you, but he just felt far too tired to argue otherwise.

Your hand returned to his head, damp with sweat and blood, and yet somehow still so adorably fluffy. Leave it to this guy to still look so presentable even when dying a second time around.

Your fingers scratched at one of his tufts of hair, causing it to give a slight, involuntary twitch.

"So they are ears." Your voice was soft. "I always assumed but was never really sure, you know?"

Alastor didn't respond. His red eyes continued to glare at you.

He adjusted his hands to lay over his chest. A weak attempt to slow his loss of blood. He didn't even have enough energy to press on it anymore.

"Hey, Al." You wheezed, breath slightly knocked from you. You had adjusted the way you sat so the demon could lay more comfortably on your lap. "Do you remember how we first met?"

"You told me that cheesy pick up line. How'd it go again?" Your hand paused as you tried to remember. 

A rather dashing demon slid up to you at the bar; charming, sharp smile, on full display. You've seen all sorts of sinners by now, but none so happy while rotting in hell.

You expected him to sell you drugs, or quite bluntly tell you to sleep with him. What you got instead was a very corny: 

"You must be buried treasure, because I am absolutely digging you." You let out a tired laugh, hand continuing to pet Alastor once more.

The sound of static crackling again was the only response you got. You think it meant fuck you. 

"Well you must be treasure as well, Al. Because it seems I'll be burying you tonight." You met Alastor's harsh glare with a soft smile.

"What? That absolutely was funny, you can't deny it." You defended yourself.

Alastor didn't think him dying was funny at all, actually, but he didn't exactly have any energy left to say that.

His smile was a tight, close lipped one, but you see his lips try to curl just a tiny bit in what you assumed would have been a snarl. 

"You always thought I was hilarious." Your own hand moving over the gash on your neck as if it was a mild inconvenience. You titled your head as you looked down at the demon on your lap. "What changed?"

Alastor merely glared at you.

Your eyes traveled down his body, staying on the deep wound oozing across his chest.

"That's not fair, Al." You laughed tiredly, eyes staying on his bloodied torso. "I always thought you were incredibly handsome—sinfully so really. But your attempts at killing me never changed that."

"Fuck you." The static over his voice was gone now. His tone was as spiteful, angry, and condescending as always, but much, much weaker.

Your eyes drifted back to his face. His smile was still present, but his lovely red eyes seemed more unfocused than they were a second ago.

Your hand in his hair stopped their movements. For a moment, the world was still as you wondered if your company had already left.

But it was merely for a heart beat, as a ragged breath from his lips snapped time back into motion.

You pealed your fingers from his hair, bringing them down to softly rub your knuckles down his cheek. He doesn't so much as flinch, but, you knew he would have had he been able to.

"Hey, old pal." You cooed softly. "You should sleep, you look so very tired."

His fingers on his chest twitched once, but you didn't get much of a reply anymore after that.

You sighed heavily. Your hands rested on his face as you leaned your head against the wall behind you, face craned upwards to the red sky that covered all of Hell.

Your own eyes closed, realizing just how tired and weary you yourself were.

Still, you were never one to be silent around a friend—or foe. It had always been unclear to you when it came to Alastor.

"We were soulmates, wouldn't you say so, Al?" You continued softly. "But in a funnier way, I think, where we were always meant to destroy the other."

Alastor's skin felt as it always did beneath your fingers. The stench of blood heavy as it always was around him. You felt his familiar eerie presence by you, as you always did.

And yet, you were unsure if he actually was still there. You were quite conflicted about how you were supposed to feel about that, truth be told.

"Fuck you, old friend." You sighed, eyes remaining closed, smile tiredly stretching across your own lips.

#tw: physical injuries #tw: major character death #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin alastor x reader #alastor #alastor x reader #vien writes #follower event #they're fine #i think #maybe #ending left intentionally ambiguous for those at the back who don't actually want to kill Al #but also for those who do so i didn't expressly put if they were saved or not #anon really saw the event and thought #im going to kill this man :)

[aethes-bookshelf]

empty eyes, emptier words || astarion/tav/halsin

I've been stuck in BG3 hell since the game first came out. I'm still in there. I don't think I'll be coming out anytime soon, so have this piece of angst. If everything goes well, maybe I'll deliver on some devil fucking (ft. Haarlep & Raphael). But that's a big IF.

For now, take this. I wrote it in class. I was supposed to be paying attention, but I made this instead. Bon appétit.

Warnings: angst, hurt/no comfort, tav straight up fucking dies

Pairing: astarion/tav/halsin

Wordcount: 1.4k

Summary: Orin knew exactly who to take to hit those troublesome True Souls the hardest. Their leader was the obvious choice - a chicken can only run so far if you take its head. Tav would make a beautiful sacrifice for Bhaal.

And if anyone came to try and get them back? All the better. Blood will flow either way. And what a sight it'll be.

[I made some changes to Orin's dagger. Now, whoever gets killed with it can't be resurrected. Or can they?]

ao3 link || part 2

Orin turned around at the first sound of footsteps. She brandished her dagger, her Netherstone embedded in the cold metal of the weapon. She was standing on the sacrificial altar at the center of the temple. Beneath her laid Tav, arms and legs bound. They were unconscious, fresh and old wounds littering their body. The little clothing they wore stuck to their skin, wet with blood. The smell of it hit Astarion like a club to the head. He hated how his mouth instantly watered, hunger rearing its ugly head.

‘I don’t smell Gortash’s rot on you,’ Orin said, crouching by Tav’s body. She dragged her blade across their skin. Fresh blood bubbled to the surface. Tav didn’t even flinch. They were barely breathing.

‘Did it think it could trick me? Did it think it could save?’ Orin taunted, her dagger stopping right over Tav’s heart. Astarion could hear its faint beating.

The heat of Karlach’s anger burned the air around her. ‘I hope you’re not about to do what I think you are. For your sake.’ Her massive ax sliced through the pungent air, tail swishing behind her.

Halsin didn’t speak, but his eyes glowed bright gold. His hands were clenched at his sides, anger barely restrained.

Astarion unsheathed his own daggers, their weight a fleeting comfort. ‘You lay one more finger on them, I’ll rip your throat out,’ he said. A growl ripped itself out of his throat.

‘Your teeth aren’t sharp enough to pierce my throat,’ said Orin. The tip of her dagger sank into Tav’s chest. ‘Not enough to slice my flesh, taste my blood.’ She drew back her hand, dagger rising into the air. A speck of blood followed its tip.

Astarion clenched his jaw so hard his teeth hurt. His upper lip drew back; he bared his fangs on instinct.

‘Even if you kill them, all you’ll achieve is pissing us off,’ said Karlach. Her words were confident, but her voice betrayed her; she was afraid. ‘We’ll just bring them back so they can spit on your fucking corpse after I split you in half, you crazy bitch.’

None of them liked the way Orin laughed at those words. ‘“Bring them back”? Not here. Not with Bhall’s blessing.’ She grinned, showing all of her teeth. ‘They’ll be the first sacrifice of the night. Then I’ll spill your blood and guts on their flayed skin.’ A shiver ran through Orin as she brought her dagger down.

The blade sank into Tav’s chest with a sickening squelch. They gasped, body going rigid for just a second. Then they went limp.

Astarion’s scream rang through the still air as Karlach charged the altar.

* * *

Astarion knelt down by the bodies laying on the stairs and started rifling through their pockets.

‘What the hell are you doing, Fangs?’ asked Karlach. Tears were evaporating off of her face, her infernal engine still hot with her battle rage. The ashes of a used scroll of revivify were cooling at her feet. The spell's energy had already ran out and Tav was still limp, their body slowly going rigid.

‘I’m looting, can’t you tell?’ Astarion’s voice was snappy, but even. ‘Tav’s usually the one to take everything that’s not nailed down but they obviously can’t do it this time, can they?’

He leaned down over a pile of smoking bones and burned blood that used to be a man once. ‘They always find something for us in these piles of trash, I thought it’d be… nice to do the same for them for once.’ He managed to fish out a rusted dagger from underneath the pile.

‘Astarion,’ said Karlach, voice breaking.

‘Besides, their favorite tea ran out a few days ago, so we’re gonna need stuff to sell.’ He leaned over the pile of Orin’s gore next. ‘Tav spent most of our money on some new armor for you and Gale, and that tea’s expensive, you know?’ He took Orin’s dagger. His hands were shaking.

‘Astarion,’ Karlach tried again. The low hiss of evaporating tears got louder.

‘They deserve to drink something good when they come back, no?’ Astarion stood up straight. His grip on Orin’s dagger was so tight his chuckles went paper-white.

‘Astarion,’ Karlach’s voice was low and thick with tears, ‘I don’t think they’re coming ba—’

‘Don’t you dare finish that sentence.’ Astarion was quick to turn around and point the dagger at Karlach’s chest. ‘Don’t you dare finish that sentence.’ For the first time since they arrived at the temple, his voice broke. ‘Of course they’re coming back. Why do we keep that creepy skeleton around if not to bring us back in times like these?’

His eyes watered. ‘They’re coming back. They have to. They must. Even if that means I’ll have to drag them out of the Hells myself.’

Astarion’s eyes wandered to Tav’s broken corpse. They were still laying on the altar, the stone of it slick with their drying blood. He couldn’t see their face; Halsin’s shoulders were obstructing the view. Astarion could swear the druid was shaking too.

‘Halsin, they’re coming back, right? They’re coming back!’ If Astarion’s heart still beat, it’d be fluttering with rising panic.

Halsin’s voice was low and quiet. He kept stroking Tav’s matted hair as he spoke. ‘I’m not sure they will, my friend.’

Those words punched all air out of Astarion’s lungs. Fury replaced it.

‘Shut up!’ he screamed; his voice echoed in the empty temple. ‘We were supposed to have decades together. Decades! They can’t leave yet. They promised!’ His knees buckled. With every word he spoke, he sank lower and lower, until his knees hit the cold stone beneath him. ‘They promised we’d… We were supposed to find a way for me to be in the sun again,’ his voice faded into silence.

Astarion couldn’t speak anymore. His chest clenched and his eyes burned. He wanted to scream. He wanted to rage and kill, and tear. He wanted to bring Orin back just so he could send her to her blasted god all over again. He wanted to hear Tav laugh at one of his stupid jokes.

His throat was clenched so tight not even sobs could escape it. He was vaguely aware Halsin’s shoulders were openly shaking with his grief, but he couldn’t bring himself to comfort the druid. That would mean looking at Tav’s empty eyes. That would make this entire nightmare real. So very, terribly real.

Astarion’s grip on Orin’s dagger loosened; the weapon fell with a loud cling, its Netherstone slipping out of it. The stone shone dimly in the light of the torches.

All of it for these stones. All this death, pain and misery for these three pieces of one whole. Tav died for it.

Meaningless, meaningless, meaningless. All of it. All of it!

Astarion’s mind was reeling; jumping from pain to denial to anger to desperation. He didn’t know what to do. Tav would know, he thought, and a fresh wave of tears fell.

Karlach laid a hand on his shoulder. She’d cooled down enough for her touch to be only slightly painful on his corpse-cold skin. ‘We have to go, Fangs. Halsin.’ Her grip on Astarion tightened when he shook his head. ‘We have to go,’ she repeated, harsher this time. Barely restrained emotion shook her voice. ‘If they even can come back, we need to get them back to camp as soon as possible.’

Halsin took a deep breath and wiped his face with the back of his hand. ‘Karlach’s right,’ he said and stood up. Tav was limp as he cradled them close to his chest. To his heart. ‘If we stay here too long, we’ll certainly lose them for good.’ The druid squared his shoulders and turned to face the other two.

Astarion went rigid at the sight of Tav’s hand, limply hanging off the side of their body. He couldn’t bring himself to look up at their face.

‘Astarion,’ Halsin’s voice was soft, ‘I understand your pain. They are in my heart as they are in yours. But we mustn't waste time lest we lose them forever. If there is a chance to save them, we must act now.’

Astarion swallowed down the bile rising in his throat. The chill of death had never been more present in his bones. He nodded, silent, and picked up Orin’s dagger and Netherstone.

‘Let’s go,’ said Karlach, new-found determination on her face. ‘We still have to buy their favorite tea after this, right? How’d you put it, Fangs? “They deserve to drink something good after this”?’

Astarion nodded. He didn’t trust his voice not to break if he spoke. There was an empty, far-away look in his eyes.

As they left the temple of Bhaal, the sweet stench of blood followed them out.

#my writing #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #halsin x tav #halsin x reader #astarion x tav x halsin #angst #hurt/no comfort #major character death #x reader #gender neutral tav #ambiguous ending

[privitivium]

i wanna bury my face into his pecs and suck on them.

so so so real!!! i completely agree. anyone... any.... huge.. large man.... deserves to have their tits sucked n nibbled on ,,,, til theyre all raw and sensitive,,, yip yip!! hulking intimidating men !!! huge boobs ! to be nuzzled into!!!!! augaghhh!^!&!!!! menacing men acting shy as you poke and prod at their fleshy chest while teasing them - comforting them as they seem to be a little self-conscious!!! tweaking their perky nipples in-between ur fingers til he's squirming with an aching erection in-between his meaty thighs and whimpering ur name... augh i love ur work tis lovely!!!

#oc ☆ ( rambles :3 ) #x male reader #male reader #x top male reader #top male reader #dom male reader #x dom male reader #yandere ?!?! whoever you see !!! its ambiguous hooray!

[an-albino-pinetree]

I feel weird putting vent art on here, but this one is positive, and maybe it’ll help someone else who’s feeling the same, and wants the same reassurance. 💜

#my stuff #A comic about sleeping it off instead of making a bad decision 💚 #tw implied sh #tw vent #vent art #I was hiding under my blanket anyways #And I thought that was a good way to make this suited for anyone viewing it #The quilt is grey for ambiguity’s sake as well #tadc #the amazing digital circus #tadc jax #jax #jax x reader #comfort #Thank you Jax for holding the collective sobbing blanket lump /j #Forgive yourself and make it through the night

[corviidaze]

tfw i havent painted since the last post i made here, hope yall enjoy

#i hope people are still here </3 #i said i was gonna post soon in like november 😭 #but please take this im tired of looking at it #the character is my oc but i tried to make it ambiguous #silco #silco arcane #silco league of legends #silco lol #arcane #league of legends arcane #silco x oc #silco x reader #oc #my oc #original character #watercolor #watercolor painting #watercolor art #traditional art #my art #painting #art