#and the power behind the words comes from how often people use them | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

altruisticalastor · 2 months

Text

↳˗ˏˋAlastor x Readerˊˎ˗ ↴

☒ Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six

☒ Summary: Your heart felt full as Alastor continued his lead. You both danced to the melodic sounds, relishing in the shared embrace. That night was one that you cherished for months to come. But on the contrary, your blossoming relationship with Alastor solidified the beginning of the end.

☒ Warnings: fem!reader, she/her pronouns used, prequel to the first two parts, alastor and reader are human in this part, 1930's period typical misogyny (NOT from alastor), fluff, falling in love, obsessive!alastor, reader is in hell for a reason, murder, gunshot wound, major character death, one suggestive scene involving finger sucking *giggles*, domestic!alastor, reader and alastor being an absloute power couple, blood, alcohol consumption, dancing

☒ Word Count: 6,276

You often dreamt of trading places with your dear old friend, Elaine. She had it all; money, family, respect.

You, on the other hand, had none of those things.

When your parents left without notice on your eleventh birthday— you ended up homeless in a matter of weeks. Elaine’s family took you in out of pity, and they made it very known throughout your childhood that they only cared for you to make themselves out to be saints. It didn't take a fool to see that they treated their own flesh and blood better than the rubble they picked up off the streets.

Elaine was often condescending toward you, but you put up with the brunt of it. It's not like you had any other choice- and when her father offered you a typist gig at his local radio broadcasting studio- you had no other option but to accept.

Your treatment from others at the studio was no better than the one you received at home.

If you could even call that loveless place a home.

The broadcasting biz was male-dominated, as most jobs were in your day. So, of course your counterparts looked down upon you as a woman. You were less than to them, and the constant berating about how you should be wed by now with kids to dote on ticked you off even further.

That was not on the itinerary for you.

The plan was to save enough of the slim earnings you made being a typist to run far away from this place. To be free of these people, from this town. You dreamt about how lovely it would be not to bite your tongue and endure all the nasty things people spat at you just to have a roof over your head.

Soon, just a little bit longer.

Grin and bear it. Don't let them know what you hide behind the façade.

"My, my! What a lovely smile!" A smooth voice pulled you from your stupor. You flinched back from your desk as the man standing before you ducked low- extending his hand.

"What's your name, little darling? I'm Alastor! It's a pleasure to be meeting you, quite a pleasure!" You took the man's hand, shaking it slowly sharing your name, and offering the same pleasantries, before peering up to get a good look at this Alastor fellow.

Based on first impressions, you thought he was a well-put-together fellow. His crimson vest hugged his slender frame well, you noted. His white dress shirt underneath contrasted beautifully with the seamless leather gloves adorning his large hands. The black bowtie was simply the cherry on top of his polished look. His features were handsome, and that darling smile of his caused your face to grow hot. His chestnut eyes peered at you behind his round-framed glasses, gazing at you as if you hung the stars in the night sky.

You had never been captivated by a man until this very instant. You always believed romance was a waste of time. But now... you weren't feeling as opposed.

"Say, what brings a fella like you to a place like this?" You stood from your seat as his hand released yours. His gloved fingertips lingered on your palm for a moment- but it was long enough for you to notice.

"Why a job, of course! You're looking at the new host of the biggest radio broadcast in all of Louisiana!" Alastor's grin widened as he puffed out his chest proudly, bringing his hands up to straighten out his bowtie.

"Oh, my! Congratulations, Mister. I look forward to working with you." Your voice was as lively as ever, putting in your best effort to come off as friendly. Alastor's deep chestnut eyes studied yours. It was almost intimidating.

Almost.

"Just call me Alastor, my dear! A beauty such as yourself is more than qualified to be on a first-name basis with me." His flirtatious nature had your heart rate accelerating at an alarming gait. Plus, the wink he shot your way to emphasize his statement only added fuel to the fire.

You were at a loss for words, simply nodding in agreement at his terms. Your gaze averted from Alastor's as you rubbed at your arm nervously. You had never been this flustered before. It was... uncharacteristically exciting for you. "Excuse my fowardness darling, but would you allow me to take you dancing tonight? It is a cause for celebration, after all!"

His offer left you stammering as you clutched your arm tightly, your sweaty palm bleeding through your vermilion dress sleeve. "Are you positive you want to celebrate with a woman you only just met?" You chuckled nervously, meeting his gaze once more.

"It would be my pleasure, little darling." You swore your heart skipped a beat as those words left his lips. Alastor was an enigma of a man, and he left you needing to know more about him. "If you insist! I'm flattered, truly."

Alastor chuckled lowly at your words as he took ahold of your hand once more. This time, he turned your palm downward before pulling the back of your hand up to his lips. Alastor's eyes bored into yours as he placed a chaste kiss atop your knuckles. His lips lingered on your skin for a few beats longer until he inevitability abjured from you.

"Lovely! I'll be waiting in the lobby once the workload is finished for the day. Meet me there?" You could only nod in agreement as your heartbeat resounded in your ears. Alastor bid you farewell, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

He just asked you on a date- didn't he?

Shit, shit- shit! A relationship was not on your to-do list.

The workday trickled on slowly. You were beside yourself— too focused on your plans with Alastor tonight.

Was your dress formal enough? It’s not like you could go home and change now— and you didn’t have the proper heels on. The pair that you usually switched into before you went dancing.

It would be fine— why were you even stressing over the little details?

More importantly… what were Alastor’s intentions with this— date?

You mulled it over the whole trip to the lobby of your workplace. You felt your nerves prickle your skin when your eyes met Alastor’s.

He was already waiting patiently for you near the exit. Alastor had a blazer on now, you noted— and he was smiling wider than ever. “Ah, there you are! Ready to head out, dear?”

Alastor’s voice was equivalent to a smooth amaretto. Silky and delightful, with a little bit of an edge to it. Your mouth felt like it was full of cotton from the nerves— and all you could muster was a quick nod.

“Wonderful! We better get going while the night is still young— ha!” Alastor opened the door, tilting his head; gesturing toward the exit. You got the hint, wobbly legs guiding you out of the building and to the dimly lit street.

You knew a speakeasy just up the other street, so you figured that was the spot Alastor intended on taking you. As your feet led you in the direction of the bar, Alastor let out an amused hum. “My, my… am I correct to assume you know your way around these parts of town?” You giggled nervously, as you felt Alastor’s arm brush up against yours as he walked beside you.

“You’re spot on. I’ve lived here all my life, and for a brief period, I was living on these streets.” Your voice was quiet as those words left your lips. Perhaps you should have kept that detail to yourself. You kept your eyes forward as you walked along the sidewalk. But you could feel Alastor’s eyes on you— without peeking over.

“Might I ask why, darling?” You swallowed harshly, not expecting a follow-up question. You secretly hoped Alastor would have skirted past that little detail about your past. “Ah well, my parents moved out of town on my eleventh birthday. I think they forgot what day it was, truthfully. They were too hopped up on pills and booze,” You laughed bitterly at the memory before continuing. “My parents owed the bank a lot of money, you see, so the first thing those brokers collected was the house I still lived in at the time.”

You shook your head in disbelief, scoffing as you continued the recollection of your youth. “Those money-hungry sharks didn’t even give me a month to collect my things or find somewhere to shack up. When the cops arrived, I told them I’d be staying with a relative— but that was a bold-faced lie!” The speakeasy was in your sights, so you tried to get to the end of this pitiful little tail. “Long story short— I lived on the streets for a couple of weeks until my friend’s parents took me in.”

Alastor swiftly opened the bar door for you, gesturing you in. You were met by the smooth sound of jazz the moment you stepped foot in the joint. The smell of cigarettes and liquor saturated the space. Alastor interlocked your arm with his as he led you to a nearby table. You felt heat rush to your face from the unexpected touch. “I’m truly sorry you had to experience such hardships at such a young age, my dear. That must have been very difficult for you to process.” Alastor’s voice was soft as he offered his sympathy. He pulled the wooden chair out, allowing you to sit comfortably. Alastor gently pushed your seat in before taking his across from you.

“Thanks for saying so. You’re the first person to actually consider my feelings.” You chuckled, raising your hand and gesturing your fingers in a come hither motion to grab the waiter's attention. “What ever do you mean?” Alastor propped his elbows on the table, cupping his face with his hands as he leaned forward. His eyes swirled with curiosity. Alastor was genuinely curious to know you better— your heart skipped a beat from the notion.

“Well— most people just praise Elaine— that’s my friend… if you could even call her that— anyway, as I was saying! Most folks boast about how heavenly Elaine’s parents are for taking in a poor old nobody like me.” The waitress knew you well, so he kindly placed your usual atop the creaky table. One for you and one for your date. You offered the fellow a warm thanks before taking a sip.

“Praise? Those folks did the bare minimum! Tell me more about your friendship with Elaine, hm?” Alastor didn’t bother downing the liquor just yet. He was too enthralled by you and your musings. You felt nervous under his curious eyes— so you took another sip of the saccharine quencher before continuing. “You sure—? I feel like I’ve been talking an awful lot, and where are my manners? I haven’t asked you a single thing!” You shook your head in disbelief, feeling embarrassed with yourself for your rude display.

Alastor’s gloved fingers wrapped around your hand in the blink of an eye. Your eyes flickered down to where the two of you were now connected before his voice tore your gaze back to his face. “Nonsense, my dearest! Please, I insist. I’d be delighted to know more about you.” His words were so earnest, and he spoke with much confidence. All you could focus on was the feeling of his gloved fingertips caressing the back of your palm and the echo of your heartbeat resounding in your ears.

“Alright— if you insist… but if I ramble too much, just tell me to shut it, will ya?” You downed the last of your drink as a laugh escaped Alastor. “I would never silence you, darling. Don’t ever allow a single soul to treat you that way for that matter, understood? Now, carry on!” You felt your blood pressure spike from his kindness, and your hand twitched under his grasp from the giddiness you felt before you continued on. “U-Understood. Anyway, um, Elaine is an old-school buddy of mine. But we grew apart the older we got… so, by the time we reached junior high, she practically hated my guts!” You laughed at the recollection as the alcohol buzz began to kick in.

“Elaine would make up nasty rumors about me and then deny the fact that she did. Any other friend I tried to make, Elaine would somehow do or say something to make them dislike me. I couldn’t do anything about it— I had to play nice because of the living conditions. I still do!” Alastor’s eyes never left yours, and neither did his hand. He continued to rub the back of your palm soothingly as you rambled on.

“Even my job at the radio station… it wasn’t my choice. But Elaine’s father owns the company, so he offered me the typist position. Not like it was really an offer, though— I had no choice but to accept the opportunity. Otherwise, I would have been ungrateful. Christ, I really hate those folks… they look at me as if I’m—“

“—Scum?” Alastor chimed in. His voice was low as he leaned in closer. Your head was a bit fuzzy from the alcohol as you felt his breath fan across your cheeks. “Yeah… like scum.” You felt his hand tighten around yours. His smile was smaller than before, a bit more rigid, for that matter.

“I knew you and I were the same. The moment laid eyes on you, I knew,” Alastor paused, bringing his free hand up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“You see, I was treated that same way my entire life, my dear. Until I decided I was quite the opposite of what those disrespectful wretches deemed me as.” His hand lingered by your face, daring to cup your cheek.

Alastor's breath had a hint of coffee and spice to it— you noted— as his face inched even closer to yours. “And you are too, my dear. Those fools don’t hold a candle to your magnificence.” Your body felt light, and all you could focus on was Alastor’s chestnut eyes— every breath you took fogged up his glasses a little.

“You really think so?” You muttered, a lazy grin stretching across your face as Alastor finally allowed his gloved palm to rest against your cheek.

"I know so, my sweet girl.” He caressed your burning face with much tenderness. Your heart was beating a mile a minute, and your thoughts were all out of sorts as you tried to articulate a proper sentence in your drunken stupor.

“What did you mean before when you said— that you and I are one and the same?”

Alastor let out a soft chuckle, causing your eyes to flutter shut for a moment. He leaned over the table, invading your personal space. Dipping his face low— lips lingering next to your ear. “You use your smile as a tool. Hiding how you truly feel behind that pretty little mask of yours.” Your breath hitched from his words— was it that obvious? Could everyone tell that your welcoming smile was nothing but a lie? Before you could spiral further— and as if Alastor could sense your worries— he eased your mind with his words. “Worry not, my dear. Only I can see through your façade. One should recognize themselves when looking into a mirror, yes?”

Alastor slowly pulled his head back. Allowing his face to come into your line of sight. “So you… and I… are alike in that way, huh?” You mumbled out, letting an airy chuckle escape you. Alastor squeezed your hand once more before he leaned back in his chair. You watched as the man sitting before you picked up his untouched glass of liquor. He downed his drink in the blink of an eye slamming his glass against the table before standing up from his seat.

“I take pride in keeping my promises, and I have intention to dance with you tonight, my dear. So, shall we?” Alastor outstretched his hands toward you, his toothy grin cascading across his features. You took hold of him without hesitation, giggling youthfully when he pulled you to your feet with ease. “I’d be delighted!” Alastor wasted no time pulling you to the open floor. The music was as vibrant as ever now that you were closer to the live band. The vibrations of the music reverberated through your sternum; as did the butterflies when you felt Alastor’s large palm drape around the small of your back.

His other hand took ahold of yours, and instinctively, you placed your other palm flat against his shoulder. Alastor began leading you to the melody of the song. Your cheeks hurt from how wide your grin was. You couldn’t remember the last time you smiled and meant it before tonight— all thanks to this mysterious man you met today. “Alastor, I know we only just met, but I feel like I’ve known you all my life!” You shouted loud enough for only Alastor to hear beyond the music. His chestnut eyes swirled with an emotion you couldn’t quite put your finger on as his eyebrows lifted in shock.

“You took the words right out of my mouth, my dearest! The moment I saw you, I knew you would be truly magnificent.” Alastor dipped you low, his grasp on you tightening to support you. He was slow when he dragged your upper half back up, allowing your chest to slot against his own.

“Well, did I meet your expectations?” You joked. Alastor ducked his head low, allowing his face to invade your personal space. This time, his nose brushed against yours, lips mere centimeters from colliding.

“You exceeded them.” Alastor’s voice was quiet, but you heard him. Loud and clear.

This moment felt too good to be true, and the longer you gazed into his captivating eyes, the more lost you became in Alastor. Your lips trembled in anticipation— and your hand at his shoulder clenched and unclenched— a small habit to help ease the nerves.

“Would it be foolish of me to say that I… feel like I’m falling for you.” Your voice was barely above a whisper as you searched for any displeasure that dared to cross his face from your confession— but you found none.

“And if I admitted to reciprocating those feelings… would that make me outlandish as well?” Alastor’s hand released yours, now opting to slide up between your bodies to cup your chin beneath his gloved fingertips. He tilted your head up just a touch more.

Alastor finally closed the gap between your lips and his. Your eyes widened in shock from the chaste kiss he gave you. You caught Alastor’s intense stare on you while he pressed further into you before your eyelids fluttered shut. The grip you had on his shoulder tightened as his lips danced along yours. They were warm and cracked slightly from his incessant smiling. But you didn’t mind it one bit. He tasted of your favorite liquor and conviction.

Your mind went fuzzy from the mix of alcohol running through your bloodstream and the feeling of sharing your very first kiss with a man you met only earlier today.

It’s strange. Even though you only crossed paths with Alastor this morning— he was the first person in your life to ever see you; the real you. The woman you kept hidden behind a plethora of masks and musings. You prided yourself on your foolproof façade, so when Alastor just waltzed past your guarded walls, it threw you for a loop. But this change of pace was the best thing that could have ever happened to you. For the first time in your life, you felt a sense of control over your own life— over your own freedom. Alastor believed in you, so why shouldn’t you believe in yourself?

Alastor parted his lips from yours slowly, savoring the moment with you for as long as he could. Your eyelids peeled open, taking in Alastor's pleased countenance. "Oh, my darling. There's no way I'm letting you out of my sight now."

Your heart felt full as Alastor continued his lead. You both danced to the melodic sounds, relishing in the shared embrace. That night was one that you cherished for months to come. But on the contrary, your blossoming relationship with Alastor solidified the beginning of the end.

You could hardly stay away from Alastor after your first date. It was as if a magnetic force was pulling you to him. He walked you home from the radio station each night and met you at your doorstep each morning. He even told you one time that he memorized absloutely every part of your day so you could always have time for each other. It was the little things that made you fall even harder for him. Alastor would leave a bouquet of roses atop your desk every Friday when you took your lunch break so that when you arrived back, you would be pleasantly surprised by his gesture.

Alastor was a proper gentleman, and his kindness and care toward you almost made you forget about the rotten things in your life— almost.

Elaine grew jealous of your new beau. She noticed you were livelier than ever, and that just wouldn't cut it. Misery loves company, after all.

She had her father triple your workload, forcing you to stay after hours. It took a toll on you and made it harder to keep time for Alastor.

But that wasn’t all— your room would be trashed by the time you came home. And somehow, your very few belongings started going missing.

The last of your patience went out the window when you noticed the locket Alastor gifted you for your one-month anniversary was nowhere to be found.

It didn’t take a genius to realize Elaine was behind your sudden stroke of bad luck. You put up with the torment all your life, but not anymore. You were at your wits end with Elaine and her arrogant family.

“Christ, I hate that wicked woman!” You groaned in frustration as you barged into Alastor’s apartment. The lanky man whipped his head in your direction from where he sat at the piano. His fingers stilled against the keys, ending his song with a dull note. “What did she do this time, my dear?” You stormed over to him before slotting yourself beside Alastor on the piano bench.

“The locket you gave me for our one-month anniversary is missing! She stole it— I just know it!” You gritted through bared teeth. Alastor wrapped an arm around your shoulder, hugging you close to his side as he cooed at you. “You know, the offer to move in with me still stands.” His voice was gentle as he placed a kiss atop your head. His large palm smoothed over your arm; in an attempt to ease your nerves.

Heat rose to your face from the mention of his proposition. Sure, you thought about it countlessly. But you and Alastor were only approaching that six-month mark of your flourishing relationship. You always believed in the notion of waiting to live with a partner until after marriage. That’s what you conveyed Alastor. “You know we can’t… unless you are willing to get hitched tomorrow,” You joked, turning your head slightly to peer up at him.

“Darling, you know I would marry you in a heartbeat. But one of us is not ready for marriage quite yet!” He quipped, dipping low and nuzzling his nose into yours. Your heart did a flip from his unyielding confession.

You knew Alastor would do anything for you at this point— this man was like no other. He worshipped the ground you walked on, yet you still were on the fence about marriage. You still had your personal goals you wanted to achieve before tying the knot, and Alastor respected your wishes. But you knew deep down he was aching to put a ring on your finger and claim you as his for good.

“Hey— don’t tease! I just… It’s becoming harder to put up with their nonsense. I wish they would all disappear! Elaine, her father, and her mother.” You let out a long sigh as your body slumped forward. You rested your head atop Alastor’s broad shoulder, smiling softly at his familiar scent.

“Well, I could make that a reality for you, my sweet girl.” Alastor’s voice was low and dripping with mystery. You laughed at his cryptic utterance. “Yeah, by doing what? Throwing them in a ditch?” You joked, raising a brow as his hand halted against your arm. The air became thick with tension as the silence grew louder.

“…Well yes, my dear! But the ditch part would be after all the fun.” You quickly turned to face him, your frantic eyes scanning his features for any semblance of falsehood. You found nothing of the sort.

Alastor’s features were as relaxed as ever. As if he asked you something as mundane as 'what day was it?’

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” Your voice was level as your eyes locked with his chestnut ones. You nervously anticipated his response. “Quite so! Have you noticed the lack of journalists around the radio station lately?" His question threw you for a loop.

Now that you thought about it- yeah, there has been a lack of jerks around the office. The same fellows that undermined you just for existing.

“Well now that you mention it— yeah, I have. What does that have to do with anything?” You tilted your head slightly, still not following where your boyfriend was going with this. Alastor’s grin sharpened as his eyes flickered to your lips. “My, dearest, you are too pure for your own good. It drives me crazy.” Alastor’s other hand drifted from the piano keys. His thumb and forefinger came up to grasp your chin. He pulled you in close as his eyes flickered back to yours.

“Well, I took care of those nasty good-for-nothings! They are resting comfortably in a ditch deep within the preserve. So, no need to worry your pretty little head over it!” Your eyes widened from his confession— his even tone and frenzied stare proved that what he said was factual.

“They had it coming! Speaking down to you in such a way. I could hardly stand it any longer, so I decided to take matters into my own hands.” Alastor sounded pleased with himself as he confessed to murder so casually. Your eyebrows rose in shock as he tugged you closer. Your lips ghosted over his. “You killed those men for my sake?”

You could smell the whiskey on his breath from this proximity. Alastor’s hand— that rested on your arm— now found purchase around your waist. “Indeed, and I would do it again in a heartbeat for your sake.” You could sense his anticipation to kiss you at that moment.

His love for you was suffocating in the best way possible. You didn’t know you were capable of drowning until you sank into his touch. “And I would take pleasure in ending Elaine and her parents’ lives. If it meant your precious mind would be at ease.”

Your heart fluttered as you closed the gap. Your lips molded against his, moving in tandem. You turned your body toward him through your shared embrace, sliding a leg up and over the piano bench— now straddling the seat. Alastor’s grip on your waist tightened. His fingertips twitched with need as they danced further along your side. You reached out for him, desperately carding your hands through his chestnut locks. Alastor’s chest pressed tightly into yours as his lips moved against yours with a searing desire. You only dared to pull back when your lungs started burning. Alastor rested his forehead against yours as you shared the same air.

“You really mean it?” You asked breathlessly, allowing your hands to cup his cheeks.

“My dear, I would die for you,” Alastor paused, the pad of his thumb swiping across your bottom lip sensually.

“I would lie for you,” His thumb pushed past your parted lips, and your tongue instinctively swirled around his deft digit.

“I would happily follow you to hell if you asked me to.” You gave his finger a playful suck, reveling in the sight of Alastor’s deep blush.

His chestnut gaze fixated on your mouth as you pulled off of his thumb with a wet pop. Alastor shuddered at your sultry display. His grip on your waist was firm.

“Please, Alastor. I want to be a part of it this time. We will be unstoppable together.”

Alastor swore he fell in love with you a thousand times over the moment those words left your lips. You couldn’t be any more perfect for him.

Alastor wanted to tell the whole world about the colors he saw in your eyes; the colors a man out of love could never recognize. He truthfully would have married you the first day you met. It was fixation at first sight.

He was overjoyed to commit murder alongside you— one of the many memorable first times you would come to share. Alastor saw the pieces fall into place before his very eyes the moment he witnessed you take someone’s life.

The frenzied stare you harbored; the blood spattering over your perfect face, decorating your smile in a picturesque way. Alastor swore meeting you was his life purpose, and assisting you on your first kill solidified that sentiment for him.

Alastor could not suppress the urge to touch you at that moment. He pulled you close, taking the lead like many times before. You danced around the dead bodies, laughter filling the barren space as the record player skipped from the other room.

He always knew red was your color. The first time you met, you were wearing a vermillion dress. But the deep crimson blood covering you from head to toe was your best look yet— he thought.

After you both hid the evidence and any proof of life— fabricating notes on Elaine and her parents' behalf to make it seem like they went abroad— you celebrated.

Celebrated the past no longer having you in its clutches.

Celebrated the freedom of never having to grin and bear it to survive; ever again.

Celebrated the ever-growing love you held for Alastor— as he did you.

Celebrated the new beginnings and the best that was yet to come.

You saw life in a new light from that day forward, seizing each day with delight.

With Elaine’s father out of the picture, Alastor became the man in charge at the radio station. He had full creative freedom to take his radio show in any direction he pleased. If folks dared to disagree, Alastor would promptly take care of them.

Business was booming for Alastor at the radio station, and you were finally out pursuing hobbies and careers that inspired you.

Alastor ended up popping the question a couple of months later as things began to settle down for you both. It was romantic, really. His gesture was over the top and grand in the best way possible but still entirely authentic to Alastor. You finally felt ready to take the next step in your relationship. And so, you said yes.

Alastor was over the moon when you agreed. You could have sworn you saw a single tear roll down his cheek— but he denies it vehemently.

You didn’t have any friends or family, and neither did Alastor— with his mom having passed years prior, so you truthfully had no need for a grand ceremony. Alastor sorted out the date for you to be wed. The anticipation only elevated your excitement by the day. And when the date finally approached, you could hardly contain your joy.

You took on the day like any other— you made breakfast, hung the laundry on the clotheslines, participated in your favorite pastimes, and met up with Alastor in the preserve to assist him in burying his most recent victim.

You didn’t know the dead fellow, but you were sure Alastor had a fair reason for killing him. The man probably took the last jar of special spice from the store that Alastor used to recreate his mother’s jambalaya— and in that case, the prick had it coming.

It was dusk. The sky was a mesmerizing red and orange ombré as you walked hand in hand through the woods with Alastor. Your free hand held a shovel, and his free hand gripped the ankle of the deceased man whom he dragged from behind along the rocky path. Now and then, the dead man’s clothing would cling to a stubborn stone, making Alastor halt in his stride. You would share a chuckle before he tugged the man free, continuing down the path with you by his side.

You were so excited to get this over with, so you could head to the courthouse with your beloved Alastor. As you recited your vows in your head, you suddenly heard a loud boom before your hearing failed you entirely. Everything was motionless after that.

Your mind scarcely processed what had happened until you turned to face Alastor. The sight before you had your stomach in knots. Your beloved was bleeding from his forehead, and as if you were in slow motion— your arms reached up to him as his legs buckled beneath him. You knew you were screaming by the burning sensation in your throat, but your ears were still ringing in a deafening manner. The last thing your conscious mind ever saw was the grim view of all light leaving Alastor’s eyes.

Those same eyes that grounded you. That brought you purpose and offered you nothing but love and devotion.

All of that was gone in a split second.

After that, you felt a searing pain in your head before your vision went dark.

It was as if you were underwater. You felt lighter than air as you sunk deeper into uncharted waters. You could hear muffled voices and flashing lights shining from the surface— but it was all out of reach. You just sunk peacefully. Enjoying the enshrouding darkness.

However, your peace was torn from you as quickly as it was obtained.

“She’s a Jane Doe. Poor girl got caught in the crossfire. I bet she didn’t even know the guy she was walking with was a serial killer!” Your eyes burned from the bright lights and the nauseating white ceiling that took up your line of sight as the distant people continued to chatter. “I bet he tricked her into thinking he was a good guy— bet he led her out in those woods just so he could kill her like that poor fellow he was dragging out there!”

The rhythmic beeping increased as all your focus shifted to the intense shooting pain coming from your head. “Oh— she’s awake! Miss, can you hear me?” You groaned softly as an older woman came into your line of sight. She was peering over you. You must have been lying down— you thought.

“Loud and clear.” You mumbled, trying to sit up only to be pushed back down by the stranger. “Miss you can’t do that! You’re in the hospital. You suffered from a severe injury. Please, don’t make any sudden movements.” Her words took a moment to process through your semi-conscious mind.

“What happened to me?” You managed to mutter as you closed your eyes. The intense lights were causing your head to ache even worse. “Miss, you were shot in the head. It was a hunting accident gone wrong,” The nurse paused, giving you a moment to digest her words before continuing.

“Turns out the man you were out in those woods with was a wanted serial killer. That Alastor fellow was an active murderer for decades! The papers say he was good at steering clear of the cops for all these years. The hunter wasn’t even aiming for you both. His target was a nearby deer,” Your mind was struggling to piece things together as the nurse rambled along.

“The bullet you took probably was the exact reason you’re still alive! Who knows what that maniac would have done to you? Which reminds me, do you remember your name, sweetheart? You didn’t have identification on your person. We asked around the area to see if anyone recognizes you, but we've had no luck with that.”

You were surely dreaming, right?

Everything this woman was saying sounded outlandish. How did you even end up in a situation like that, and more importantly—

Wait… what is your name?

“I… I don’t know. I can’t… remember a thing.” You shook your head, which only caused you more pain as your eyes shot open. You were still met by the sight of the noisy nurse, and the white hospital walls.

Nope, not a dream.

The nurse looked at you with a horrified look. “Oh geez… the doctor said your injury could cause memory loss, but it was a slim chance. Let me go fetch him. This is way out of my pay grade.” The sound of her footsteps echoed through your head before they slowly dissipated. You gaped up at the blank wall.

A clean slate, nothing to give the surface any character.

Ironic.

You had no clue who you were and no memories of your life before this accident.

You were left with more questions than answers.

The only thing you knew about yourself was that you were one of many Jane Doe's.

Fuck.

tags; @danveration @celestial-vomit @jyoongim @stygianoir @polytheatrix @mmik3yy @littlebullofblythe @cxrsedwxrlds @lillithhearts @nogiggleonlybitter @minniemumbles @chewbrry @lbcreations-blog @nonetheartist @call-me-nyxx @zombiesnips-blog @stawberrypimpsimp @wonderlandangelsposts @villxinmiixx @persephoneblck @maxlynn17 @littledolly2345 @karolinda007-blog @falling-endlessly @greekyoghurtwithberries @bladeismine @aloraaaxcrystalzx @doctorswife221b @scaramoochiie @fairyv-ice @chirikoheina @veroneverleft @tired-of-life-86 @saccharine-nectarine @c-thegingergirl @tsunaki @geminixbunny @softangxlicss @alleystore @sirens-and-moonflowers @fairyv-ice @honey132 @alastorsaries @zenix108 @michi-keinz

#hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel smut #alastor smut #alastor x you #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor imagine #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x y/n #alastor fluff #alastor angst #hazbin hotel angst #hazbin hotel fluff

1K notes · View notes

discordantwritings · 5 months

Text

Our Precious Assistant (Cross Guild x Reader)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 4.5

Warnings: 18+ NO MINORS. gn afab reader, exhibitionism, slight voyeurism, dom/ sub dynamics, dom! Mihawk, dom! Crocodile, sub! Buggy, sub! Reader, oral sex, facefucking, PiV sex, spit roasting, creampie, aftercare is important guys, Mihawk and Crocodile are mean to Buggy but in a consensual way, not beta read

Word count: 5.7k

Summary: You’re the assistant to the leaders of The Cross Guild, and after one night of overhearing them having sexual relations, you can’t help but notice their affections towards each other, and eventually… you?

Note: the cross guild can use me any day

Being the executive assistant to three of the most dangerous men in the world was terrifying.

At first.

But after one year of working with them, you’ve grown desensitized to their presence. You see them at their best and their worst. And working for them you see a lot of worsts.

Sir Crocodile is the one you interact the most with since he deals with most of the money and bounties. He works hard and barely rests, which leads him to a short temper. At first every time he glared at you you were sure his hook was about to take you out but now you know when that happens he just needs a nap. You’ve managed to mitigate a lot of employee deaths by planning his appointments around when you know his mood will be bad. And even over time you’ve learned that if you stand firm with him, he respects you more. Never in a million years did you expect that a former warlord of the sea would appreciate you draping a blanket over him when he falls asleep at his desk. You often have to stop yourself from thinking about how peaceful he looks when he actually manages to sleep.

Dracule Mihawk was easier to work with than Sir Crocodile, demanding less of you on a daily basis, but that’s not to say it’s been easy. Being a solitary man he doesn’t interact well with anyone under him (or over him for that matter) so you’re often left to smooth over meetings and negotiations. You don’t talk with him often but when you do he is always polite, if a bit short. Nothing gets past him and it’s worked out in your favor more times than not. He recognizes your work and once when he caught you sneaking a peak at his library he let you borrow the book you were after. When you tried to return it once you were done he told you to keep it. The book sits on your nightstand and helps you remember on the hard days why you stick with the job.

And Buggy?

Well. He’s Buggy. You’ve had the best and the worst times with him. It became clear after only a few months of working with The Cross Guild that Buggy wasn’t actually the one in charge. Between the way Mihawk and Crocodile treated him and how incredibly incompetent he could be led you to put the pieces together on the real power structure. Now that isn’t to say Buggy was a failure all time, quite the opposite actually. Despite how under qualified he was he pulled off the showmanship of the roll quite well and out of all of the leaders he was far and away the best with people. While you didn’t interact with him as much as you did Sir Crocodile he often went out of his way to be around you. He gets bored easily and it often falls on you when there aren’t any of his crew members in the immediate vicinity. As much as it derails your work you find yourself glad for the company. You think it’s because you do actually respect him and sometimes in The Cross Guild that’s hard to come by.

It wasn’t until recently a few things about the relationship between the leaders of the guild clicked for you. You knew the had extended meetings behind doors and on more than a few occasions you’d seen Mihawk or Crocodile laying into Buggy but it wasn’t until you had to come back to the office late one night when it all became crystal clear how their dynamic worked.

You had forgotten some paperwork that you needed to work on so you slipped back into the office after dark when you thought everyone else had gone home. When you got to your desk however, the door to Sir Crocodile’s office was cracked and light spilled out. It wasn’t strange, you knew he pushed himself to work late hours. Normally you encourage him to cut it short so you made your way over to the door and where about to knock when-

“Croc- Please-“ Buggy’s voice was pained and you almost rush in to defend him but a loud moan stops you dead in your tracks.

“I don’t think you’re sorry enough clown.” Crocodile’s voice is sharp and clearly pissed, but there’s an edge to it that you’ve never heard. You almost manage to back away from the door when a third voice speaks up.

“You’re right Crocodile, he really should be apologizing better. He certainly could be putting his mouth to better use.” Mihawk sounds almost bored, but the filth that left his mouth made your blood run hot.

“I’ll do anything- you know I will!” Buggy pleads.

Crocodile chuckles. “Oh, we know you will. You’re always so eager to get on your knees for us, aren’t you.”

The sounds of a zipper being pulled jolt through you and that’s enough to get you to run out of the office as quietly as you can. You pray to whatever gods are above that they didn’t hear you because no matter how fond of you they were- this was too much for anyone to know.

Ever since then you’ve noticed things. Face paint on Crocodile’s collar, stolen glances between Mihawk and Crocodile, or Buggy actually blushing when Crocodile threatened to knock his head off. It felt crazy to know that your bosses were in some kind of polyamorous relationship but no matter how much you want to tell anyone you didn’t. Not even for fear of your job- it was just what you felt was right. But you had to admit thoughts about what the three of them do together creeped into your mind often. It was embarrassing but some nights you got off to imagining what it would be like to be a part of something like that.

Well not something like that. Exactly that. Those three powerful men that you’ve grown fond of. But it was a pipe dream. You kept those thoughts in the darkest recesses of your mind where not even Mihawk’s observation haki could detect them.

But then things kept happening.

It started off easy to ignore. You would see Buggy blushing as you walked into Crocodile or Mihawk’s office, or Mihawk pulling away from Crocodile’s desk quickly as you passed by the door. But when you walked into Mihawk’s office and saw Buggy on his lap there wasn’t much you could do but quickly throw his requested papers on his desk and hurry away, face flushed.

After that it was noticing Buggy’s shoes under Crocodile’s desk when he called you in for a report. Then being asked to stay late and catching Crocodile and Mihawk share a kiss through a wide open door.

You wouldn’t acknowledge the incidents, and they didn’t either, so you were left flustered and confused almost every day. As if seeing them together wasn’t bad enough- it got worse.

Attention started to be directed towards you. You didn’t notice at first, Buggy’s clinging attitude was nothing new and you almost thought nothing of it when he was more touchy than normal. Then Mihawk invited you to stay after work to have a drink with him. You refused- but almost immediately were faced with Crocodile asking you to help him in his office with some more paperwork. Working close at his desk together shouldn’t have been as intimate as it was but you could see him stealing glances at you throughout the night.

Then came the pet names.

Buggy waltzing around your desk calling you star, dear, angel, and any other cheesy ones he could pull out. You hate how much you reacted to them, doing your best to act annoying and praying that he never saw the blush creeping up your neck. Mihawk and Crocodile were more subtle though. Mihawk tagging on darlings at the ends of his requests, Crocodile calling you sweetheart after you deliver paperwork to him. It was almost too much to take on a daily basis, sending you home flustered and now occasionally sexually frustrated.

But you never allowed yourself to think that any of them, let alone all three of them, would want something with you. You knew for a fact they were all in a relationship of some sorts and maybe this was their fun- being cruel to the person they all had easy access to. But you couldn’t stop your heart from soaring at every pet name and every touch or glance they would throw your way. You’d think about quitting- but you couldn’t leave them. As much as you hate it you care about the three of them too much.

But that might all stop today. Earlier in the day Crocodile approached you and said he needed you to stay after for a meeting and your blood ran cold. This was it. You’re getting fired.

You spent all day anxious, subtly packing up your belongings in preparation for the worst. When the time rolled around you knocked on the large door to Sir Crocodile’s office.

“Come in.” His gruff voice answered, and you slowly opened the door to reveal all three leaders of The Cross Guild. Crocodile behind his desk, Mihawk at one of the chairs across from him, and Buggy stationed on a couch along one of the far walls.

You weren’t being fired. You were being killed.

Your fear was clear to all three of them and Mihawk cast an annoyed glance at Crocodile. “I told you this was not a good idea.”

Crocodile rolled his eyes. “And what did you propose? Keep doing Buggy’s plan?”

“Hey!” Buggy sat up on the couch, offended. “I thought we could be a lot more flashy!”

Glares from both Mihawk and Crocodile made him sink back into the couch without another word. Mihawk looks back to you and gestures for you to sit down in the other chair at Crocodile’s desk. Scared and a bit confused you quickly sit.

“I’m sorry.” You speak up, trying to be ahead of this whole thing. “I should have been more careful with your privacy and it’s my fault and I understand why you want to let me go.”

Crocodile, Mihawk, and Buggy all share confused looks before Buggy breaks out in a laugh.

“You’re not being fired.” Crocodile speaks up, leaning over his desk. “And you haven’t been mishandling our privacy.”

“Except on that first night.” Buggy chimes in from the couch. “Not that that was a bad thing!”

Your eyes dart between all three of them, now properly confused. “I don’t understand…”

Mihawk sighs. “We noticed when you accidentally overheard us in this office.”

Of course. You were stupid to think they didn’t.

“But after that and some discussion we thought you might be interested.” Mihawk says it so casually you almost don’t register the words. They thought what?

“It was Buggy’s idea to get bold with our affections to see if you were interested as well but like most of the clown’s plans it was clearly poorly thought out.” Crocodile speaks from behind the desk, filing in the gaps.

“Honestly I think it was just an excuse to be the little exhibitionist he is.” Mihawk comments with glance towards Buggy.

“Hey, hey, maybe there was some self fulfillment there but! You all liked it and we clearly saw they liked us too. Didn’t ya dear?” Buggy leans on the couch to smile and wave at you and it’s only about now where everything is finally sinking in.

“Oh.” You’re sure your entire body is blushing, all the anxious energy now turning into something different.

“So we are sorry if this has all been too convoluted for you. I thought we should make a formal request.” Crocodile gets up from his desk and walks around it, towering over your seat. “Would you think about being a part of our relationship?”

“If you don’t we will forget this ever happened and there will be no more sexual run ins with any of us.” Mihawk adds as he too gets closer, his hand on the arm of your chair.

“And of course, take your time.” Crocodile mentions from above, taking a long drag of his cigar.

“But also could you not because I’m really excited to-“ Buggy is once again cut off by the looks of the two former warlords. But now understanding their dynamic you guess he probably riles them up like this on purpose. The line between fear and arousal is pretty thin, as you are learning right now.

“I can’t say I’m not interested.” You speak up and see Buggy beaming from across the room. “But I just- I’ve never been in a relationship like this.”

Mihawk’s hand glides from the arm of the chair to the outside of your thigh. “Neither had we before this. It’s not easy all the time but we make it work.”

It’s hard to ignore how much of an effect the small touch has on your body and you shift in your chair. “And you all really like me?”

“Yes.” All three of them answer at once, bringing a huge smile to your face. They rarely agree on anything but seeing them so automatically in sync for the answer- it douses a lot of your worries.

“So how would this work exactly?” You ball your hands in your lap, unable to look any of them in the eye directly.

“You would be ours.” Crocodile leans back on his desk to get more in your line of sight. “We go on dates occasionally. We share a bed when we are all in one place.”

“Due to our positions we can’t be as public as we would want to be. But that would be for your safety.” Mihawk’s thumb is drawing small circles on your thigh.

“But that doesn’t mean we won’t occasionally smother you at work.” Buggy bounces off the couch and moves over behind your chair. “Or at least I will.”

“You mean you don’t already?” You turn slightly to smile up at him and he returns your grin tenfold.

“And of course we would love to have you join us in our sexual endeavors.” Crocodile’s large hand creeps under your chin and pulls it over so you’re looking him in the eyes. “If you’ll have us.”

You melt under his touch and a small moan leaves you when Mihawk’s hand slides ever so closer inwards. Buggy’s hands land on your shoulder a gently rub and you are overwhelmed in the best way.

“I’ll have you. All of you.” At your words Buggy’s arms come around and hug you from behind and you can’t help but laugh a bit at his enthusiasm. “So what’s next?”

“If it’s not too fast you’ll come back to our room. Now.” The authority Crocodile exudes makes you nod your head quickly. You don’t know if you would be able to function properly if at least one of them didn’t take you to bed tonight.

Buggy tightens his hug before releasing you and bouncing to the door. Mihawk retracts his hand from your thigh but holds it out for you to help you stand. You take his hand and lace your fingers through it as you turn to the door, Crocodile bringing up the rear.

It’s a whirlwind getting back to their place- which you learn is Crocodile’s originally. None of them kiss you yet but their hands wander. Mihawk never lets go of your hand and squeezes it as Crocodile keeps a guiding hand on your lower back. Buggy’s detached hands are a bit braver, sneaking around your waist and hips and thighs. He gives your ass a light slap as you walk into the bedroom and it’s your turn to whip around and glare at him. There’s no malice behind it though and he waves at you as the offending hand snaps back onto his arm.

Turning back and looking around the room it is more distinctly Crocodile’s than anything from the simple and modern decor with his signature emerald green as accents. The other two have snuck their way in here though. You notice a large vanity mirror with makeup strewn around it and the bed is covered in dark plush fabrics. Despite being mismatched with the rest of the room it makes it more human, and you appreciate that as you slowly make your way over to the almost comically oversized bed.

Turning, you sit yourself on the edge of the bed and look up at the three men. “So, how do we start this?”

Buggy goes to walk towards you but is stopped by Crocodile’s arm. Mihawk and Crocodile share a glance and communicate something without words. Crocodile drags Buggy off to a large loveseat not too far from the bed as Mihawk approaches you.

“We’ll start off gentle, how about that?” Mihawk says as he crowds your space, looking down at you with those striking eyes.

“Hey- you never started gentle with me-“ Buggy’s voice is cut off and when you look over Crocodile has a fist full of blue hair and is harshly pulling his head up. He’s violently pulled into a kiss with Crocodile that you see the clown melt into, the gloved hands going to Crocodile’s knees to stabilize himself. You could watch them make out for hours but your gaze is gently pulled back to Mihawk with his hand on your chin.

“There will be plenty of time to watch. But I have to get you relaxed.” Mihawk grabs your waist and easily hoists you further into the bed, laying you down. He crawls over you, one hand stabilizing himself as another wanders up over your hips, waist, bust, and the finally resting gently around the side of your neck. Using his grip he brings you up and pulls you into a kiss.

Just as promised he starts off gentle, letting you set the pace. His lips are soft and you can taste his favorite wine. Breaking away to catch your breath you loop one arm around his shoulders and slide your mouth next to his ear.

“I appreciate this but-“ You lightly bite at his earlobe. “I don’t want you to be too gentle with me.”

When you retreat back to look at the swordsman’s face you see his eyes blown out, only a slim amber ring left. “I’d knew you’d be wonderful for us.”

He dives into another kiss, this time fully dominating it. His tongue presses against your lips and you let him in easily, letting him take over completely. Mihawk’s calloused hand comes around the front of your neck and he doesn’t squeeze but the thrill of it being there sends chills down your spine.

Eventually that hand sneaks down to your shirt, lightly squeezing one of your breasts before it moves down to the hem of your shirt. Fingers play with the edge before they slip under and push your shirt up as he travels back to your chest. You lean up and he allows you to break away from the kiss as you finish pulling your shirt up and over your head, throwing it somewhere on the floor. Mihawk wastes no time and unclasps your bra as you are doing so, and he pitches the garment far away as well.

Sitting up slightly the former warlord allows both his hands to wander your chest, earning small gasps from you as he squeezes and cups your breasts. He leans back down and kisses down your neck before replacing one of his hands with his mouth, kissing under your breast first before placing an open mouth kiss to your nipple. You bring your hand up to stifle a moan but from across the room a voice chastises you.

“Be loud love, we want to hear you over here.” Crocodile’s voice reminds you of his presence and you look back over his direction and are rewarded with a lewd image.

Crocodile sits wide in the seat, a cigar lit as he watches you and Mihawk. His pants are opened just enough for Buggy to work his cock, one hand on the base and his mouth covering the rest. Crocodile’s grip is strong on the clown’s hair as he forces Buggy’s head down. Seeing Crocodile so composed as he uses Buggy turns you on much more than you ever thought it would and you can feel how wet all of this is making of you.

You’re snapped back to Mihawk as he lightly bites at your nipple and this time you don’t muffle your moan. A hand wanders down your stomach and to your pants where deft fingers unbutton and unzip them quickly. After a harsh bite to the plush of your breast, definitely leaving a bruise, he leans back and brings both hands to the waistband of your pants.

“Lift your hips for me.” You obey his words and he takes off your pants and underwear in one go, and you shudder at the sudden coolness. One hand lays on your hip and another goes to your thigh. Gently he pushes your thighs open and he groans at what he sees.

“All this already?” His fingers skate down to your entrance and he pulls his fingers over it, collecting your slick. Bringing his fingers up to his mouth you watch slack jawed as he licks them clean. “I think I’ll have to taste more.”

Pushing himself back he kisses the insides of your thighs and you moan as he gets closer and closer to where you want him to be. One of your hands fists into the sheets and you bring the other gently to Mihawk’s head, tangling your fingers in his hair.

Finally his mouth reaches your folds and you buck up against him but he quickly brings a hand up to hold you down. With just one hand he’s able to pin your body and that sends another flood of warmth to your core. After another second, making sure you’ll stay still, he finally dives in fully.

His tongue flattens and draws up across your opening and up to your clit where it stops. He presses a kiss to it that makes you gasp before his tongue travels back down and dips inside of you. The hand in his hair grip hard and you’re afraid for a second he’ll stop again but he just moans in appreciation. His nose rubs against your clit and you throw your head back, again getting a glance of Buggy and Crocodile.

Buggy was still kneeling at Crocodile’s feet but he wasn’t blowing him anymore. Instead Crocodile’s own hand was on his dick, gripping the base and slowly tugging as he locked eyes with you. You were finally able to see just how big he was and for a second you got concerned with how that would ever possibly fit inside you. Your eyes went down to Buggy and you could barely make out him softly whining and it took a second before you looked even lower and realized his pants were off. One of his detached hands was steadily pumping a finger into himself and his face was nestled on Crocodile’s thigh. The sight cause you to try and buck into Mihawk’s mouth against but you were powerless and all you could do was writhe and whine against his mouth.

Mihawk’s excellent skills were quickly bringing you to the edge and he could sense it. Pulling away for only a second he called out to Buggy. “Clown, come put your hands to good use.”

You saw the unoccupied glove hand fly over and hover by Mihawk and when he dove in to give attention to your clit the gloved hand when close by, easily slipping two fingers into you. Almost immediately you’re thrown over the edge and scream in pleasure.

The world is fuzzy for a few seconds and when you come back to your body you realize neither of them have stopped their movements. So sensitive from your orgasm you loudly moaned and gripped Mihawk even harder.

Peering up at you he breaks away for a second. “You can give us one more, can’t you darling?”

Buggy’s fingers curl inside you and Mihawk lightly nips at your sensitive clit and you’re cumming again, a deep groan leaving your body as pleasure washes over you again.

Finally the mouth and hand retreat and it takes you a bit before you focus back on the world around you. When you do you see Crocodile, naked and stroking his cock right above you. You sit up and look to him for direction, earning you a sly smile.

“You’re already so obedient aren’t you.” His hand comes up and fingers gently thread in your hair as he pulls you closer to his dick. “Want to show me how good you can be?”

“Yes sir.” You say, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

That earns you a moan from him and he drags you closer, the tip of his cock pressing against your lips. Obediently you open your mouth and let him press himself further in as he guides your head. You take a deep breath through your nose as you push yourself further feeling his dick fill up your mouth and into your throat. When your nose is finally up against his pelvis he moans deep in his chest and lets himself sit there for a moment. Tears prick at the edges of your eyes but it’s worth it for this feeling.

You can only hold like this for so long, and you have to let him slide out of your mouth. You hold your mouth open for him though, thick strings of your saliva connecting him to you.

“Fuck, you’re good.” He praises, the hand in your hair gently petting you for a second before gripping again. “Gonna let me use your mouth more?”

Knowing he loved it the first time you respond with the simple, “yes sir.”

He plunges immediately back into your mouth and all you can do is focus on your breathing as he fucks your face relentlessly. You know you’re dripping onto the bed as you rub against the sheets for any sort of friction. It isn’t long before you feel Crocodile’s cock twitch in your mouth and you assume he is going to cum down your throat but to your surprise he pulls away.

You look up at him, slightly disappointed, tears and spit covering your face. His hand reaches down and wipes away some of the spit.

“I’m not going to waste my load in your mouth tonight sweetheart, there will be plenty of time for that later.” His promise sends a thrill through you and suddenly you are joined in the bed by Buggy.

When you turn to him he looks just as fucked out as you are, his face paint smeared and bruises along his neck. Buggy’s eyes dart up to Crocodiles and you can’t see what’s exchanged but in a flash Buggy is on you, kissing you.

He’s eager and it fills you with new energy as you ramp up to match him. Hands wander every inch of your body, never stopping for too long.

“Been wanting to touch you for so long.” He whispers in between feverish kisses. “So soft…”

He gropes your boobs and ass with detached hands and you gasp into his mouth, giving him the opportunity to snake his tongue in. You give into him but it’s short lived as soon Mihawk is dragging him off of you.

“Hey!” He protests, his hands still full of your body.

“You’ll have your fun.” Mihawk chides. Buggy sulks a bit but brightens up when you cover the hand on your tit with your own and squeeze.

Crocodile’s hands join Buggy’s on your body and you feel him maneuvering you so you’re laying on your stomach, ass to him. Buggy is on your side and Mihawk is in front of you, now naked like everyone else. Now it’s his cock at your mouth. Not as big as Crocodile’s but slender and curved.

“Think you can take two of us at once?” Mihawk asks, hand gently petting you.

“Yes, please.” You moan, embarrassment having left you long ago.

“You’re so perfect darling. Now open up.” You immediately obey the swordsman and he lets his tip sit on your tongue, lightly dragging it barely into your mouth and out.

You’re about to lean forward to take more of him but something presses against your entrance and your head snaps around to see Crocodile lining himself up with you. Mihawk’s hand is in your hair again as he brings your mouth back to his dick.

You feel Crocodile’s cock push into your cunt and you moan at the intrusion. Taking advantage of that Mihawk slips himself down into your mouth further, causing you to almost choke. He seems to enjoy that, lightly thrusting in at the noise.

Crocodile moves slow and you’re thankful for the time to adjust to his size. As you get into rhythm with Mihawk you realize Buggy is stroking your back, gently soothing you. Needing him to be included you reach your hand out and find his thigh, slowly reaching up until you find the base of his dick. You can’t see it but it’s heavy in your hand as you slowly begin to pump him in time with Mihawk’s thrusts into your mouth.

With one final push Crocodile has bottomed out and you feel his hips against your ass. He pauses for a second and leans down, pressing hot kisses to your back while you finally adjust to his full size. It’s not too long however before he’s upright again, and his hand goes to the base of your back as he starts slowly thrusting in and out of you.

Your senses are overwhelmed by pleasure and every moan you release is muffled by Mihawk’s dick and he picks up the pace, loving the way you feel around him. You focus on keeping a steady pace with Buggy and let the rest of your body be used by the two other powerful men.

It’s Crocodile who falters first, his thrusts becoming faster and irregular as he grips your hips firmly and pushes you down with every thrust. You feel him shudder and he reaches over and replaces Mihawk’s hand in your hair with his own, pulling you up off of him.

“Where do you want me to cum, tell me.” He demands, not slowing down at all.

“Inside.” You manage, voice wrecked.

He pulls you into a heated kiss before pushing you back down and doubling his efforts. His hand flies down to your clit as he helps you to reach your peak with him. You cum quickly from his touch and that send him over the edge too, burying himself deep and unloading into you.

Crocodile slowly pulls out of you and you can feel his cum seeping out. You feel his large fingers at your entrance and he pushes some of his seed back into you.

“Take a look Hawkeyes.” Crocodile voice was gruff.

You didn’t even register that Mihawk had walked around behind you until you heard his voice. “Fuck that’s a picture. Buggy, flip them around.”

Suddenly Buggy’s hands were on your waist, flipping you over as directed. You finally get a good look at him and he’s kneeling next to you, dick bright red and leaking. Reaching over you go to continue your earlier work with him but your hand it caught by Mihawk’s.

“He doesn’t cum until the end.” He informs you. “Don’t worry, he likes it that way.”

A bright red creeps up Buggy’s neck that confirms that fact. And you can’t help but flash him a smile.

“Think you can still take me?” Your attention is brought back to Mihawk as he drags his length over your entrance, coating it in yours and Crocodile’s cum.

You nod eagerly, desperate to please and be filled up again.

The swordsman easily slips into you and he wastes no time, roughly thrusting into you. You cry out from the feeling, overwhelmed and fucked out from your previous three orgasms. Buggy is right there besides you, gently running his fingers through your hair and whispering praise about how good you looked and how well you’ve been taking them. It’s all enough to send you quickly to the edge and it’s clear Mihawk is right there with you.

“Can I-“ His voice is cut off when you clench around him.

“Yes, inside, please Mihawk.” Your pleading sends him over and his fingers dig into your thighs as he cums inside you. You’re not far after him, Buggy’s helpful hand going between your legs to give you the final push.

Mihawk pulls out and you are full, cum gushing out of you. The swordsman stops and stares at your fucked out cunt in appreciation before Buggy stands next to him to look as well. Mihawk pulls Buggy into a kiss and when he breaks away he gives Buggy a small nod before walking away.

“Hey I’m not gonna push you love.” His hand is pumping up and down on his length fast. “Just wanna cum on you, can I do that, please babe?”

The desperation in his voice is clear and you nod, no longer having a voice to use.

“Fuck, thank you, you’re perfect, just like that-“ His words are quick and dissolve into unintelligible as he works himself faster before spilling himself onto your folds with a loud moan.

You finally allowed your body to relax, sinking into the bed, exhaustion overtaking your body. Crocodile comes back into view and he gently cleans you up with a wash cloth, pressing a kiss to your knee when he’s done. Mihawk comes to your side and helps you properly into bed, under the covers. Buggy is at your side almost immediately, arms wrapping around you as his face settles into the crook of your neck. It’s not long until Crocodile joins you on your other side and you allow yourself to snuggle up into his chest. You vaguely notice Mihawk climb into bed on the other side of Crocodile as sleep starts to take you.

Crocodile presses a kiss to your forehead right before you fall asleep.

“We love you.”

#one piece x reader #one piece x you #crocodile x reader #dracule mihawk x reader #mihawk x reader #sir crocodile x reader #x reader #buggy x reader #buggy the clown x reader #cross guild x reader #the cross guild x reader #discordantwritings

1K notes · View notes

kayjayjwrites · 1 month

Text

Like Bugs in a Rug: Chapter One

Summary: Azriel Shadowsinger, mysterious pretty boy extraordinaire himself, was head over heels in love with you for years. Everyone in the room could see it, except for you of course. A series of connected one-shots.

Chapter Word Count: 6,350

Chapter Content Warnings: fluff, some cursing, one bed trope, awkward but wholesome communication, AFAB Reader, Reader (You), some details about Reader's appearance but overall vague, canon plot spoilers as this is canon compliant-ish, reader low key being thirsty for Azzie

Note: Hello! Welcome to my first fic in like 10 years! This idea came about when I was having a hard time falling back asleep. I sometimes draft fanfiction when i'm trying to sleep. I don't often remember the plots come morning, but the memory of this one remained intact enough for me to jot down. I’m thinking this update is gonna be the longest chapter because it's both prologue and the first chapter, but I have terrible self control with word count limits. So I guess we’ll see what the next chapters bring, but they may be shorter!

Enjoy me 2am fugue state musings, there are likely typos~

It was all worth it. The decades of patience and silent suffering. The centuries of loneliness paying off just as you lost hope of ever leaving The Court of Nightmares. You and your father, Kier, expected a typical visit from the Inner Circle. The High Lord would threaten your father to keep him in line, you’d go unnoticed in the back of the throne room monitoring the interaction. Just like every other time they visited.

Except, the High Lord and his Inner Circle asked about you like you were the reason behind their visit. You had clocked the visit as odd as soon as only Rhysand, Feyre, and Mor arrived. The absence of both The General & Shadowsinger at the same time a rarity. Despite being related to Rhysand and Mor, you didn’t think they knew your name, so when they asked Kier about you, by name, your heart damn near fell out of your ass.

They wanted you to leave Hewn City to work with them. A Courtier of the Night Court, working alongside Nesta, Lady Death herself, of all people. They wanted you to start immediately now that the war with Hybern was over. Relations between Courts were strained, and upon learning of your talent, the High Lord deemed it a waste for you to be hidden away down here. He and the Inner Circle believed you did not belong in The Court of Nightmares. To anyone else, having the High Lord speak so highly of your child would have been an honor.

It was the most furious you’d ever seen Kier. Which was saying something. His emotions grew volatile in a blink of an eye, outraged by the absolute gall of the High Lord. How dare he come to his city and tell him that you weren’t meeting your full potential down here? At some point Kier stood up, snarling at Rhysand and the others like a wild animal. Kier, so lost in his anger, let his mental shields falter. Just for a second, but it was more than enough time for your powers to draw his wayward thoughts to you, like a magnet, his unspoken intentions seeped into your own mind. You were always terrible at blocking him out when he got like that.

Power. Kier's thoughts whispered to you. A spy for him in the Inner Circle. It disgusted you how predictable your father was, his intentions were always about how he could best use you for his own gain. It was the driving force behind your excessive training habits, desperate to protect yourself from the toxicity of his intentions. The more you failed at keeping him out, the more you hated him, and by default hated yourself.

Rhysand was right, you were wasted down here, and it wasn’t that your father didn’t see that, he didn’t care. He wasn’t furious with the High Lord for taking another daughter away from him, he was mad about losing a tool.

Well, your father could rot down here alone for all you cared.

You felt a lot of things in that moment. Intimidated by the prospect of working with Nesta, unsure of Mor’s morals and the rumors surrounding her, apprehensive of Rhysand and Feyre’s power, and not to mention all the unknown dynamics between the rest of the Inner Circle. But, despite all that uncertainty, you did not feel nervous about leaving Hewn City with them.

The first task Kier ever appointed you was to report on Rhysand and his Inner Circle’s intentions every time they visited. Either they all had flawless control over their mental shields, or their icy behavior was an act from the beginning. You never dared to share your suspicions with Kier, your father only wanted ammo for his hate, and he never took kindly to evidence that didn’t support his biases against High Lord Rhysand.

It felt a little too much like blind faith and a hunch for you to be 100% comfortable with the decision, but you decided to put your trust in these strangers anyway.

You would take the job.

Not to be a spy for Kier.

Not out of some duty to your High Lord or older sister.

It was time to live your life for you. Consequences be damned.

But, the focus of this story was not about moving to Velaris with Mor and getting to know the Inner Circle. It wasn’t about how much you rock as a diplomat for the Night Court. It wasn’t about how good it felt the first time sunlight touched your skin upon leaving the underground city. It wasn’t even about how you and Nesta became best friends. However good those stories may be.

However, this story is about Azriel Shadowsinger, and how the mysterious pretty boy extraordinaire himself, fell head over heels for you without you ever picking up on it. Yeah, that’s right, the girl who struggled to control her talent for hearing unspoken intentions never puzzled the pieces together. For literal years everyone else in the godforsaken room could tell the Spymaster was in love with you, except for you.

It all started with an argument with Rhysand a few assignments into your career as the Night Court Courtier. You felt like you could handle traveling between Courts without needing an escort, especially if you’d be meeting up with Nesta at the destination anyway. Rhysand did not agree, basically threatening to ground you if you didn’t allow someone to accompany you.

That was how Azriel had become your full-time travel partner. Rhysand appointed Azriel as an additional escort in case Nesta was pulled away.

You’d take this to your grave before ever admitting it, but Rhysand wasn’t wrong to be worried. There had been a good number of times where just that had happened. Nesta would be working the other side of the room, and having Azriel lingering nearby eased your nerves. Prythian was a vast Realm, and Rhys had been right in worrying about your adjustment.

It didn’t take too long for you to adapt once you had visited all the different Courts a few times. Yet, Azriel continued to go out of his way to accompany you to events. The first obvious sign of his affections for you came a couple years into your career.

The event was in a small Day Court town on the border of the Night Court, just under a day’s travel from Velaris on foot. Home to one of the libraries hit hardest by Amarantha’s looting, the entire town was celebrating the return of a sizable chunk of the stolen volumes. The gala was advertised to be a quaint dinner and cocktail hour. You suspected that scholars and book enthusiasts would be the bulk of those present. Although interested in going, Rhysand had High Lord duties to attend to that involved Nesta and the other Archeron sisters in the Summer Court. With a promise to fill everyone in on anything of interest, you packed a small overnight bag and waited for Mor to arrive home. You never developed the ability to winnow, so you needed someone to bring you.

Fussing with your hair in one of the numerous mirrors decorating Mor’s walls, you couldn’t help but smile at your reflection. Your time in Velaris, just over two years, had already begun to sooth a deep sadness you hadn’t realized had settled under your skin. It was obvious in the gentle way you gazed at your reflection, the healthy flush of your cheeks, and the warmth of your thoughts. Velaris looked good on you, and as you smoothed a hand down the shimmery sapphire blue fabric of the dress that clung to your curves, you thought the new formalwear looked good on you too.

Giddiness bubbled up in you at the idea of modeling the new dress for Mor. The excitement felt foreign still, after spending centuries believing Mor didn’t care to know her own little sister. You never thought you’d ever get the chance to gush over dresses with her. Kier hated everything Mor represented, and was cruel to her in ways that made you feel lucky in a perverse way. Your father may have manipulated and alienated you, filling your head with lies about your older sister, but it was never public. Kier made sure everyone in the Court of Nightmares knew that Mor was a useless whore and a traitor.

When Mor became a core member of the Inner Circle, and Rhysand put her in charge of Hewn City, you would wait for her to acknowledge you during her visits. Decades turned into a century, but the same hope would always rise up when Mor was due for a visit, only to be crushed when she ignored you. She never paid you a second of her time, just a fleeting look in passing as if you were another spectator. Knowing that she wasn’t ignoring you out of ill intent stung more, because you couldn’t bring yourself to hate her.

Kier may be your father, but that didn’t mean you had to be a fan of his intentions. You never believe the rumors he spread about Mor.

And then, the big reveal came. It turned out that to Mor, you were just another spectator. Mor didn’t know she had a younger sister at all. Keir hid you so well that no one realized you were related to him. A detail that made you feel so small when it came to light. You were just the shy woman in the background, taught to be pleasant when spoken to, a pretty little wallflower the rest of the time.

Later, when you asked about who first realized your identity, you got mixed accounts from the Inner Circle. Rhysand insisted that it was he who put the pieces together first. Stating that it came to him suddenly after Azriel submitted a report from a surveillance mission detailing an overheard conversation between you and Kier about your talents. Rhysand claimed that your powers reminded him of a variation of Mor’s. The rest of the Inner Circle credited Feyre for noting the resemblance between you, Kier, and The Morrigan the first time she noticed you loitering at the back of a council meeting.

When the truth was confirmed, and you agreed to go with them, Mor wept. She vowed to never leave you alone in The Court of Nightmares ever again, even for a second. That promise was your first experience with making a deal in the Night Court. Your clear surprise at the intricate tattoo that branded itself over the center of your sternum clued Mor, Rhysand, and Feyre in on how out of touch you were with common lore from your own Court. Mor wasted no time in winnowing you out of there after that. The both of you had heard enough of Keir’s nasty sneers and low-blow comments to last a lifetime.

Now, Mor’s cozy little home was also your cozy little home, if not a bit tight for two people. If someone asked you a decade ago if you thought you’d ever have a relationship with Mor you would advise them to seek out a healer.

And yet there you were, vibrating with things to tell her, anticipating her arrival with an almost goofy grin when…Azriel of all people winnowed into the living room.

Perplexed, but not totally disappointed, “Oh!” you said, clearly taken aback. “I was expecting Mor.”

Azriel huffed a low chuckle, dimples bracketing his amused half-smile. “Sorry to disappoint.”

You looked him over, dark circles under his eyes, droopy eyelids, posture leaning forward in a slight slouch. “Az, didn’t you just return from a long mission? Why aren’t you resting?”

“Wanted to escort you to the Day Court Library Gala, of course.”

The tenderness in his voice had warmth bubbling up from your chest. “That is very kind,” you started, making sure to meet his gaze so he knew you meant it, “but you look so tired, Az. I’ve visited the Day Court a bunch of times now and only need someone to winnow me there. As much as I enjoy having you accompany me to these things, I don’t want you to stretch yourself thin on my account. I’ve got this.”

“I know you’ve got this,” came his immediate reply, “as you’ve pointed out I’ve been gone for a few weeks. What if I offered to escort you because I missed you, hm?”

Despite yourself you felt a flush of heat in your cheeks at his teasing. You refused to use your powers on anyone in the inner circle, unwilling to violate their privacy without explicit consent. But you didn’t need your powers to read Azriel’s sincerity. It made it hard to meet his gaze, you turned back to running your fingers through your hair in the mirror, taking a moment to compose yourself. “Well alright then, I don’t think I can do anything more to tame my hair, we should be off then.”

You felt Azriel at your back, a gloved hand coming up to gently grasp your elbow, guiding your arm down as his hand trailed down the bare skin of your forearm to hold yours, turning you to face him. “Stop fussing, you look stunning, this dress is new, right? I think the color suits you.”

You smiled. “Thank you, I suppose you would like this color, now that I’m thinking about it,” with your free hand you held up the skirt of the floor length dress to the siphon on his wrist, marveling at the color match, “it looks like I did it on purpose.”

He hummed in acknowledgement as he pulled you closer into an almost embrace. “We should go now. Wouldn’t want to miss the opening speeches.”

You suppressed a shudder. Definitely from the way his breath tickled your ear, and not from the way his voice sounded as he tucked you into his chest. “You hate opening speeches.” You pointed out, remembering all the times he complained about how boring they were.

“I do, but you like them.” You’d never said as much aloud, but you did enjoy listening to people talk about things they were passionate about, and opening speeches tended to be just that. Of course the Spymaster had noticed.

If Azriel saw your smile before you hid your face against his leather-clad pec he didn’t let on. You pulled your hands free and looped your arms around his middle, clasping your fingers together under the base of his wings.

“I’m ready then, thank you for coming with me.” Your voice was muffled, unwilling to tilt your head up to talk to him in case your maddening blush was there. It didn’t seem to matter how many times you winnowed with Az, your whole face would go cherry red. Something Cassian never failed to poke fun at whenever he witnessed it.

Azriel wrapped his arms tightly around you, your body now flush to his. You focused on the sound of his wings rustling as he tucked them in closer. Anything to distract from the way your pulse spiked when you felt his lips brush against the crown of your head, his hold on you gentle, yet firm and protective as darkness folded around the both of you.

XxXx

Neither you nor Azriel realized the issue with your room reservation until much too late. Upon arrival in The Day Court the both of you hurried to the event. The gala wrapped up around midnight, and like most of the other guests staying in town, you and Azriel retired back to the nearby Inn. With your strappy heels in hand and a pleasant buzz from the alcohol, you felt positively bubbly. Paused in front of your room, you let Azriel rummage through the small black purse at your side for the key. After almost leading them into the wrong room, Azriel took it upon himself to find the correct room and unlock the door.

Minutes later you were still trying to suppress a smile at how Azriel reacted with such mortification when he realized you’d led them to the wrong room. The mental image of the great Shadowsinger so frantic in his efforts to stop you from further jostling the doorknob, had you letting out a laugh before you could stop it.

“It’s not funny.” He grumbled as he swung the wooden door to your room open, leading you inside. You were on the verge of poking fun at him some more when you caught a glimpse of the interior layout. Right, you had RSVP’d expecting to attend the gala alone. The realization sobered you up real fast.

The room was small, burgundy curtains concealing a sizable window, antique desk with tourist flyers stacked in a neat pile on top. A queen sized, four post bed situated in the middle of the room.

“I’ll take the floor—” Azriel started saying.

But you interrupted him. “—you should have the bed.”

“Absolutely not, what kind of gentleman would I be if I let a lady sleep on the floor while I hogged the whole bed.” He nodded, as if the conversation was over, and you had to fight the urge to roll your eyes at him.

“There’s not even enough space on the floor for you to stretch out Az. The room is basically only bed. It’s fine, I can use my extra clothes—”

You inhaled sharply, tensing at the thought of your overnight bag, left forgotten back at Mor's apartment. Your eyes darted to Azriel, meeting his gaze out of the corner of your eye, and you knew you didn’t need to say anything about it as he scoffed under his breath.

“You forgot your bag.” He observed.

Sighing, you ran a hand through your hair, your tight dress feeling like it was constricting around your chest as you contemplated sleeping in it. “I did indeed forget my bag.”

“We could just go back, we don’t have to stay here for the night.” Azriel pointed out, but the thought of cutting the trip short caused a ripple of disappointment to drop in your stomach.

“Or,” he continued with a hint of amusement, “I have an undershirt beneath my leathers. I changed before I met you at Mor’s, so it’s relatively clean. I was going to sleep in it tonight, but I would sacrifice my shirt for you if it meant you’d stop frowning like that.”

If you thought you were anxious before, Azriel’s suggestion sent your anxiety through the roof. You had always found Azriel attractive, even when you were still living in Hewn City. Who wouldn’t? That attraction grew into a bit of a crush when you first arrived in Velaris. He treated you with such care as you adjusted to living above ground, quiet, patient, and thoughtful.

Once it was apparent that you would be working closely with him you shut that shit down. You and him had spent a lot of time traveling together the last few years, always with separate sleeping arrangements, and never sharing clothing. You went out of your way to respect his privacy, give him space, all in hopes of being someone he one day could trust, like how you trusted him.

You could handle one night, sharing a bed, borrowing his shirt. That wouldn’t totally backfire on you in any way, right? Nodding to yourself once, you tried for an air of confidence as you talked around the nerves that have bloomed in your chest.

“Okay,” you agreed, “but if I change into your shirt you definitely can’t take the floor. I won’t let you sleep shirtless on the ground while I’m all tucked in and cozy in bed. I’ll only take up a sliver of it by myself anyway.”

He opened his mouth to object, his intentions written in the way his brow furrowed at you. But you barreled on anyway, “So, we share the bed tonight. Are you comfortable with that?”

His mouth snapped shut, eyes studying you for a tense moment as if you may be tricking him. You clasped your hands together in front of you, the longer you waited for him to respond the clammier your palms felt. Each second felt like an eternity and in no time at all you found yourself scrambling for a way to play off your idea as a joke.

Of course he wouldn’t want to share a bed with you. What in the world had you been thinking?

Maybe you could blame it on that deliciously fizzy drink you downed before leaving the gala, say you weren’t in your right mind. Pretend to not remember in the morning, as if this wasn’t going to be a moment you cringe about decades later. Would you be able to just laugh it off? Would Azriel be chill enough to let you live this down? You were probably so screwed.

He was still a little tense, but just before your panic truly took root Azriel began to nod his head like he...agreed with you?

“Yes, I think that is the most logical solution. The bed can definitely fit two.” Azriel finally said, and you tried to keep yourself from gaping at his response. But your surprise must have been all over your face because he went on to say, “I didn’t suggest it myself because I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Wiping your hands down the front of your dress did little to help with the sweat. The pit that had been taking form in your stomach churned, your dread morphing into jittery nerves.

Then, as if you weren’t having a nervous breakdown right in front of him, the handsome lunatic started striping his leathers off. Dept hands tossing his gloves to the desk, he unclasped the chest pieces of his leathers, they fell to the floor with a thud. Then, the promised black undershirt was up over his head, and you were drinking in all his tattoos and corded muscles like you were a tactless teenager instead of a 300+ year old female.

A flash of movement from him, and you flinched when his shirt hit you square in the face. It was so big it draped over your head. You made a disgruntled noise, ignoring how delicious the shirt smelled as you removed it from your face, “Hey—!”

“If you’re done gawking at me like you’ve never seen a shirtless male, you can get ready for bed first.” He headed further into the room, collecting his chest piece off the floor and approaching the desk to place it with his gloves. He turned to face you, his butt propped against the desk as he gestured to the door his wingspan had been blocking from view. He crossed his arms over his bare chest, flexing his biceps, and you almost swooned at the sight. He knew exactly what he was doing.

Your fist tightened around the shirt, fighting the urge to toss it back at him out of spite. Embarrassment felt like hot iron under your skin, so instead you snapped your attention to the door he had pointed out–the bathroom. You knew you’d averted your gaze much too fast to seem unaffected by him. He chuckled, and you glowered at him as his head tilted to the side, watching you with a bemused expression. He looked about ready to comment further, but you waved him off with faux-annoyance and an exaggerated roll of your eyes. Clutching his shirt close to your chest, you escaped into the bathroom.

Subtle.

Pressing your back to the door, it closed under your weight. You paused there for a moment to focus on your breathing, your frazzled mind going a mile a minute. This was all so far out of your comfort zone, it wasn’t even funny. You never had to deal with handsome males in The Court of Nightmares, Kier didn’t let you socialize long enough for it to even be on your radar. Dating hadn’t quite made your list of top priorities upon arriving in Velaris either.

What little experience you did have was with a male named Allistair. You’d met him at Rita’s within your first year above ground. It was a fling of sorts that lasted a few months before you decided casual dating wasn’t for you. He was a perfectly adequate lover. At least you think he was. He was also your only lover. A nice enough companion as you acclimated to your new life. The times you had been intimate with that male had left you feeling…bereft. Seeing Allistair shirtless had been nothing like seeing Azriel shirtless.

And Azriel calling you out for ogling him so blatantly? Mother have mercy.

So now you were just expected to fall asleep next to him wearing his shirt after that? The situation almost made you want to laugh at the absurdity of it all. The last thing you wanted was to draw his suspicion by loitering against the door for too much longer, so you moved to the sink. Maybe splashing lukewarm water on your face would reveal that this had all been a weird ass nightmare.

Cupping water into your face a couple more times, you took in the smeared makeup dripping down your face in the mirror. Definitely not a dream.

Azriel was going to think you were in love with him for fucksake.

Snatching the nearby hand towel from the rack on the wall you soaked it, and got to work on scrubbing your face clean. You had to have a little more faith in Azriel. He wouldn’t let a single weird moment ruin over two years of amicable teamwork. But your personal relationship with him felt fragile to you at best. You can't let some tattoos and abs mess up what you considered to be the most solid friendship you’d made among the Inner Circle.

So what if he was hot as hell? You could co-exist with attractive people, it was legit a part of your job. You could salvage the situation, just change out of the dress you accidentally matched to the colors of his siphons, put his shirt on that smelled so strongly of him it gave you a headrush, and face him like you hadn't just been drooling over him.

You know, simple.

The hem of his t-shirt landed just above your knees, and the comfort you found in it was criminal. The black fabric was very soft and so baggy that you worried the wing slits in the back would shift forward in your sleep. It could reveal a little more than what you’d considered 'tasteful side boob'.

Resisting the urge to fuss in the mirror (because it wasn't like you were trying to look cute for anyone, right?), you exited the bathroom clean faced and a bit more settled than when you had entered.

Your bravado, however, was short lived. Azriel faced away from you in only his underwear, the rest of his leathers added to the pile on the desk. He was organizing his various knives on the bedside table closest to the main door.

He looked over his shoulder at you. Totally not catching you checking out his butt in the tight underpants. Cauldron boil you. Would it be weird if you marched yourself back into the bathroom to try the whole “not affected by sexy, almost nude Illyrian warrior” thing again?

Azriel inhaled sharply, and you snuck a glance at him. His attention was back on his knives, but there was a tension to him, almost like he was brooding. There might have been a light blush over his cheeks, but you felt weird analyzing him anymore than you already had out of habit. You clocked the change in his body language for what it was the instant he saw you in his shirt. Clenched jaw, tense shoulders, spine ramrod straight, wide eyed before averting his gaze, elevated heart rate–classic signs of attraction. Reactions he clearly didn’t want you to notice.

"I'm taking this side." He informed almost absently, patting the mattress. Leaving you with the window side.

You wandered to the desk to avoid observing him further, wishing that you could turn off the part of you that always seemed to be prying for more information. And then you felt it, his thoughts getting louder, his emotions growing wilder, reaching out to you. You slammed your mental shields up hard, a gross feeling taking root when it was too late.

Protect. Azriel’s intentions conveyed to you. Protect. Comfort. Provide. Here you were invading his private thoughts without his knowledge, while he was concerned with your wellbeing. What was the point of all that effort Rhysand put into teaching you how to better control your mental shields? It never worked when you needed it most. The failure stung, and you had to busy yourself with folding your dress in a neat square so you had something to keep your hands from shaking.

It was quiet for too long, and you struggled with recalling what he had said to you before you’d lost control. Something about the bed. "Sounds good to me." You decide on saying, placing your dress next to his leathers.

Azriel didn’t seem to find your reply out of the ordinary. Small mercies.

"I'll be out in a few minutes, then." His voice was rougher than before, and it sent chills down your spine. As soon as you heard the bathroom door click shut you scurried into bed. You couldn’t get under the covers fast enough, pulling the blankets up to your neck with a hefty sigh of relief.

It felt awesome to be laying down after such a long evening on your feet. Too bad you couldn’t enjoy it more, instead drowning under waves of shame. Maybe you’d never get a full handle on your powers. Maybe the Mother was teaching you a lesson in this life? You couldn’t fathom what the moral could be. You wanted more than anything to be able to mind your business.

You wished you could turn your brain off. Alas, even your guilt couldn’t stop you from reflecting and organizing what you’d just observed. Not only had you heard his intentions, but you also felt them. Unlike the sweet warmth of his thoughts, his gaze had felt like desire and bad decisions.

He didn’t seem like he was actively seeking to bed you. You reasoned that you were also an available female wearing nothing but his shirt and a pair of panties. You could only imagine how all of that must have chafed against his Illyrian instincts. Rhysand had once mentioned that Illyrians were possessive and protective at best, controlling and jealous at their worst.

Surely those possessive instincts were what you were picking up on, then. You were covered in his scent after all. That was the only logical explanation for his reaction, his instincts were telling him to protect you because you were vulnerable and wearing his clothing. Even if it didn’t quite sound right to you, it was the only explanation you were willing to entertain. You were barely friends, there was no way Azriel wanted to court you. The thought sent a fleeting pang of disappointment through you that you refused to examine.

Whatever. There wasn’t anything you could do to make the situation less messy right now. You were exhausted, and stewing on scenarios that would never amount to anything real was unlike you.

Snuggling further into the sheets, you decided it was best to just pretend you hadn’t noticed shit. The damage was done, Azriel wasn’t dumb, he at least knew he had flustered you. You weren’t going to draw any more attention to that tonight. Or tomorrow. Or ever. Everything about this night was a fluke.

Azriel returned from the bathroom, and you kept your focus on fluffing your pillows. Sitting up you tossed an extra pillow onto the floor, and you could feel as soon as his eyes landed on you that some of his…instincts…were still acting up. You pulled the comforter back up to your neck as he got into bed next to you. Turning on your side to face him you were determined to be normal. No more awkward gawking allowed tonight.

He stretched his arms up above his head, his joints popping a million times as he groaned in relief. You couldn't help chuckling at him, the fearsome Shadowsinger of the Night Court, doing something so mundane.

Scooting further onto the bed, Azriel rolled over to meet your gaze, his wings tucked close to his back as he settled. Most of his wingspan spilled over the side of the bed anyway. He surveyed you, eyes lingering along your tired but genuine smile, and you saw the stern tenseness slowly leave his body. "You sure you're comfortable with this?" He asked.

Your smile turned a tad warmer. This male was just so kind, so different from what you knew in Hewn City. "I am, I trust you Azriel." It was the truth. You didn't have friends growing up, and although you may have a long way to go before Azriel truly called you his friend, you considered him a dear (sexy) friend.

Your words seem to settle something in him, and you could have sworn you saw something almost affectionate flash across his face. You blink, and it's gone, but the fuzzy feeling it left in your chest remains.

Like he sensed your mushy thoughts, he ruined the moment. "So I have to ask you something, it’s serious.”

Your brows raised in bemused interest, the scenario with him wishing to court you snapping to the forefront of your mind again. He’d always been very attentive to you, but in a worried protective way. You’d never picked up on any romantic intentions from him before, and he’s not the type to make a decision like that on a whim. The chance was small, but you couldn’t 100% rule out him wanting to ask you out. Could you say no to him? Would you even want to say no? You’d never considered this as an option before!

He held your gaze, as if for dramatic effect and then with the seriousness of a top notch spymaster he asked you, “You have seen a shirtless male before...right?"

Maybe it was a mistake to consider this male kind, he was a menace all along.

You had never rolled your eyes so hard at someone. Unbelievable.

Turning away from him with enough force to toss your hair in his face, you are rewarded with the sound of his indignant grunt.

"Can you turn the light off please?" You snap, unable to rein in your annoyance. Unsettled by how it tasted almost like rejection.

"You didn't answer my question." He goaded, and you fell right for it.

"Yeah, because it's a silly question." You fire back.

He hummed at your response, "Doesn't seem like you think it's a silly question."

You would rather swallow your own tongue than admit to Azriel that you’d seen shirtless males, but he had been the first you’d enjoyed seeing shirtless.

Done with the line of questioning, you blindly flung your arm back, swatting at him. He startled at the contact, and he exhaled a scoff when you didn't stop flopping your arm at him after the first blow.

He caught your wrist, stilling your flailing. "Fine, fine, I'll drop it," He let go of your wrist, “for now.”

You shifted to burrow further into your pillows, totally not dwelling on how his big hand wrapped around your wrist made you feel dainty. The texture of his scars hadn’t made your heart skip a beat either. Nope. Not at all.

"Could you shut the light off please." You asked again with more venom than you intended. It bothered you how easy this male could get under your skin. He wasn’t even trying.

You felt his weight shifting, the bed frame squeaking a bit as he moved. "Anything for you, Princess." He shuffled a little more, and then the light went off, casting the both of you in darkness.

The nickname made you grimace into your pillow. No one had ever called you that before, and you really didn’t want it to catch on.

You felt him return to the position on his side facing you. Some moments passed in loud silence, and although you were the one that let the conversation drop, the residual tension in the room was killing you. There was no way you would be able to fall asleep, and you would bet that Azriel was stewing in the tension too.

"Az?" You whispered. His response was quick like he’d been waiting on edge for you to speak, "Yes?"

"Goodnight." And you found yourself meaning it. You hoped he got some sleep tonight despite the turmoil he had so effortlessly sowed in your stomach with his teasing. The prick.

You could practically hear the mischief in his voice. "Sleep well, princess."

Ugh. Your stomach coiled, but not in an entirely unpleasant way. Very dangerous. It was an inappropriate reaction, and you wrote it off as stress. However as hard as you wished to forget it, you wouldn’t be forgetting how Azriel had made you feel that night anytime soon.

Even your racing thoughts couldn’t stop sleep from finding you, putting you out of your misery.

And if you woke up to the sounds of song birds that morning, your face pressed against Azriel's neck, your body sprawled atop him while he slept on his back, then that was your business. No one would know if you relished being in his arms a few minutes longer than necessary. You wouldn’t confirm nor deny if one of his hands had looped through a wing hole of his borrowed shirt, his fingers resting just under your breast.

And so what if it had been the best sleep you'd gotten since leaving Hewn City. And if Azriel seemed more well rested than usual on your return to the Night Court, you certainly didn't notice that either.

XxXx

Next Chapter

#azriel x reader #acotar #azriel x you #friends to lovers #slow burn #one bed trope #one shot #one shot series #azriel #my writing #kayjaywrites #like bugs in a rug

516 notes · View notes

spitdrunken · 3 months

Text

Vox x Reader Relationship Headcanons

This post contains SPOILERS in the sense that it is based off of the version of Vox as presented in episode 2. None of the actual plot points featured within are discussed. notes: background vox x valentino / polyamory (reader only dates vox), extremely unhealthy relationships, stalking, manipulation, hypnosis, power imbalance. kidnapping + physical abuse mention (neither done by vox)

To catch the eye of a demon as powerful as Vox is not an ideal situation. While he could be considered more levelheaded than your average demon, and certainly is when compared to his associates, he still has things that rile him up like no other. No, he doesn’t have a whole string of sexual partners to use and abuse like Valentino does, but that makes the weight of his gaze all the more crushing when it does fall upon someone.

Once you’ve got his interest, it’s practically impossible to slip away from him. He’s got vantage points all across the Pride Ring, being able to slip in and out of its many scattered screens with ease. While the usual tracking Vox Media subjects its customers to is already an invasion of privacy, yours would be on a whole other level.

With how inescapable his company is amongst Sinner demons, it’s more than likely you’ve at least got some kind of device he’d be able to peer into. As soon as your phone is being plugged into a port, he’d be skimming through your messages and search history. Though your face-to-face meetings might have been minimal or non-existent at this point, he would already know far more about you than most of your friends. …You should really clear out your search history more often. But, hey, he’s not unhappy about it! There’s no traces of his presence as soon as he’s done.

Vox cares a great deal about his reputation and image. Not only because he’s the very face of a high-earning brand, but it is also simply the kind of person he is. Whereas someone like Valentino might have gone right ahead and shot any possible partner in the head, Vox is much more careful than that. What would people think, if he simply went around and started electrocuting a bunch of unknowns to death? No, that’s just not his way of doing things whatsoever.

Even besides that, there’s also much more satisfaction in it, to him, to convince you to leave them and join him, of your own accord. Vox has always been the brain behind all operations, the meticulous and thoughtful one, the one who got investors on board and appeared in interviews. In other words, he’s become quite good with words, and can easily come off as charming whenever he so wishes. That is exactly the way he will present himself to you, at least at first: a demon unlike other demons, practically a gentleman.

You wouldn’t have known him from his early days, the time where he still made mistakes, and nobody knew his name. When he invites you over for dinner (through an email that you’re convinced is fake spam, the first couple of times you receive it), he wants to appear nothing but infallible and powerful to you. You, who is only familiar with him through screens, as a flawless news presenter, gameshow host, and much more. A smile would never leave his screen, and he is constantly courteous.

He’s got a couple of expensive gifts at the ready as well, ones that hail from his own company. Perhaps it’s the newest iteration in his own line of phones, or a brand-new kind of security system. He’ll wave off any kind of dismissal of his gift, telling to just take it, you don’t even know how many of those he has lying around! Trust him. (In fact, they are modified to grant him even more easy access into your life. A constant stream of information directed at him, with Vox never even having to enter your device anymore.)

In a place like the Pride Ring in Hell, existence is demeaning at best, and utterly miserable at worst, for the average demon. Vox is more than aware of this and, at first, doesn’t even try his absolute best to sweep you off your feet. The power and the safety net someone such as himself would provide would be more than enough for most people. For the average demon, time spent by his side would be a vast improvement, and no one can deny that.

And, in this case, he is most likely interested in someone with far less power than him: you. Whether actively aware of it or not, and if he was, he’d never admit it, a part of Vox desires to be with someone from whom affection comes more easily. And that is… Not Valentino. Not that he’d ever separate from him, mind you, you’d simply be the antithesis to him. If you aren’t, he’ll make you something closer to that.

One of the largest drawbacks that immediately becomes noticeable, is the political target spending time around Vox makes you. Whether he purposefully makes the two of you appear in Hell’s largest tabloid, or only goes someplace where the two of you are sure to be spotted, you’ll surely become a demon worthy of kidnapping after this. It is exactly this, and the fear that comes along with it, that Vox would weaponize against you.

Wouldn’t it be much better, and safer, to stay in one of the company’s buildings? You’re bound to get kidnapped anywhere else, you know. He’s just looking out for you! Really though, he’d never let something like that happened to you. Not only because such an occurence would cause his reputation to take a great hit, but also because he cares! The praises he heaps on top of you are never outright lies, though some are perhaps exaggerated. He wouldn’t spend so much time on a demon he wasn’t genuinely interested in.

Vox, to the vast majority of people, would come on too strong, and too fast. The kind of attention that comes from someone who hasn’t been denied anything in a long time. At the same time, underneath his collected demeanor, seen in his stalking and meticulous collection of information, there is something that could be seen as a glimmer of desperation.

One might stop and think that, if he truly were as capable and faultless as he makes himself out to be, why would he go through all of this trouble? Wouldn’t simply being himself, or something rather close to it, be enough? This is truly where the heart of the issue, his deeply-hidden insecurity, shines through. Besides just the way the thought of being rejected by you upsets him, as well as he tries to hide it, he can’t simply back out, now that he’s spent so much time around you. He’d never live it down.

If, for some reason, ‘diplomacy’ and his usual wooing doesn’t work… He’s an Overlord for a reason. He still has plenty of tricks left up his sleeve. He can manipulate any digital image he wants, including video, without ever touching editing software. Vox can show you the people closest to you saying outright brutal things about you, with their exact mannerisms and voice. All data gathered through the various devices of his he owns, then capable of creating replicas. In a limited way, he can bend reality to his will.

If even that doesn’t work, he has his powers of hypnosis as a last resort. In this case, he doesn’t like having to use them, would have preferred the satisfaction over getting you to fawn over him all on your own… But it’s just so much easier to plant a little trigger inside your brain. For him to snap his fingers, and have you become more agreeable. Your thoughts growing that tiniest bit hazier, your head the slightest bit heavier.

All you have to do is look into his eyes, and take a deep breath… That’s better, isn’t it? What were you even getting so upset about before, huh? (And again, hypnosis is a last resort here. He’s spent so many years dealing with Valentino’s temper tantrums that he’s an expert at diffusing any kind of argument, and nothing surprises anymore.)

Vox wouldn’t be likely to physically hurt you at all. He sees himself as being capable of more self-control than that, even when in the throes of jealousy. Really, the one you should be most afraid of during this entire ordeal is Valentino. While their relationship is by no means monogamous, and it never will be, he’s still used to being the center of attention. He uses violence and unpredictability to have Vox, largely, at his every beck and call. While Vox isn’t used to having denied things, Valentino’s is many times worse about it.

Initially, he ignores you. Designating you as some kind of fling, not even worthy of being one of his whores, soon ready to be forgotten. Vox doesn’t do those kinds of things all that often but, hey, anything’s bound to happen with an eternity of time to kill, right? It’s only when you become a more permanent fixture in their life that he really becomes more of a threat.

He’ll let his temper cut loose, specifically during times where the two of you are spending time together, causing mayhem around the company. If Vox’s attention is entirely unwanted, this may even be a welcome reprieve for you. Still, Valentino being jealous of you should be about the last thing you want. Frankly, it makes you liable to get shot on a bad day, or because of a poorly worded comment.

…Perhaps it would be better to stay close to Vox, then.

#hazbin hotel x reader #vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox x reader #vox hazbin hotel x reader #yandere #hazbin hotel #cha.vox #cw.stalking #cw.hypnosis

1K notes · View notes

everlastlady · 11 months

Text

Striker X Short Reader

┆ Author's Note: Hello! Welcome back my little imps, demonic sinners, and powerful overlords. Welcome to Striker X Short Reader. I thought this would be nice since I'm a short person, I'm like 5'2 in real life and always get mistaken for a kid and just the look on people's face when I tell them how old I am, is absolutely hilarious, but I hope all my shorties enjoy this story.

┆ Story Contains: Smut

┆ Fandom: Helluva Boss

┆ Word Count: 823

Striker is used to meeting people who are short and he especially enjoys teasing them a bit. But he just loved teasing you, calling things like, “ Short thing, “ Little demon, or “ Small creature “ You didn’t mind Striker’s teasing but sometimes it could be annoying. When he tools things from you, he would hold them up high and laugh when you would try to jump up and try to grab them. He would give it back and tussle your hair. “ I’m sorry pumpkin, you are so small and cute. “ He said while chuckling.

He would grab things off high places if he saw you struggling. Striker knows you love to do things for yourself but that could often lead you to hurting yourself. So if Striker saw you reaching for something. He would give you a hand either grabbing it with his hand or tail. Sometimes he would lift you so that you could grab. He did this because he didn’t want to see you hurt yourself like last time. You had fallen off the counter trying to grab a box of cereal and fell and ended up breaking your arm.

Striker is careful when you two wrestle each other and play fight. He doesn’t want to hurt you. He usually uses his tail to throw you on the couch or bed. He doesn’t put too much of his weight on you when he sits on you. But for some reason, you don’t take it easy on Striker so he calls you a little gremlin or puppy when you bite him. Striker would just chuckle but for a short person, you pack a punch and that’s what Striker likes about you, you may be short but you are ready to fight and not give up.

He thinks you look adorable when wearing his clothes, especially his hat. “ Hey look I’m Striker, howdy howdy. “ You would say as Striker would roll his eyes and take by his hat. “ Ha ha, very funny darlin’ “ But he did have a few pictures of you wearing his clothes because he found it cute. The only thing Striker had wore that belonged to you was your necklace, calls it his good luck pendant.

When he brings you to the saloon he is very protective of you because a lot of assassins, hitmen, criminals, and scum asses drink there. So he will keep his tail around your waist if he sees someone flirting with you or coming up to you both. He knows you can handle yourself, he just doesn’t want you getting roughed up just in case there is a fight.

When you guys sleep together you are usually spooning with you being the little spoon but if you beg Striker enough, he is willing to be the little spoon. But sometimes you sleep on top of Striker which is nice because he’ll rub circles on your back. In the morning is nice because he’ll pick you up off him and set you aside then tickle you awake, has he gotten punched once? Yeah, he has but he has learned how to dodge.

When you, guys are having passionate smoking sex, Striker has you on top of him. Ride a cowboy save a horse! Striker loves hearing your gasps and moans when he places his hands on your hips. Oh, how you tremble on top of your cowboy. You love hearing his huffs and growls

But when Striker is on top of you, he’ll cage you with his body while he pounds into you. Your little whines make him smirk when he drags his tongue across your neck and marks up your neck, collarbone, and chest. When you cry out his name it only makes him pound deeper into you. Seeing your eyes roll back brings him joy as he whispers how good you are being. “ Oh, darlin’, you are being so good, let me hear you say my name again, come scream how much you love. Let me hear it ~ “

Will he tie you up while you ride him? Yeah, He’ll place your hands behind your back and bound your wrist together and let you ride him while he holds you. He thinks it's adorable watching you squirm, whine, and beg him to let you cum. If he’s feeling kinky enough maybe he’ll choke you but you both have a safe word. Because if there is one thing Striker doesn’t want to hurt you too bad or make you uncomfortable.

This cowboy knows about aftercare so he’ll praise you on how good you were and then wash you up. He’ll give you sweet kisses and let you know how much you mean to him. He’ll help you put on your pajamas, then make you a nice meal and get you something to drink. If you fall asleep, he will hold you close and rub your back. “ I love you, darlin’ “ He’ll say then fall asleep holding you close.

#helluva boss #hazbin hotel #striker is so hot #striker helluva boss #striker #helluva striker #striker x reader #helluva moxxie #helluva fizzarolli #helluva asmodeus #helluva millie #helluva mammon #helluva loona #helluva fanfiction #helluva boss x reader #fan fiction #smut #helluva boss smut #request ☕📖

2K notes · View notes

e-m-ma-lmfao · 6 months

Note

Hi hii, I've seen your requests are open and I was wondering if I could request somewhat one-sided Astarion x reader/Tav/he catches feelings first kinda situation??? Pretty please, love your writing 🙏

Too Generous Too Kind

pairing : astarion x (gn) reader

summary : astarion has travelled by your side for weeks and it makes his stomach churn when he grows to trust you, the trust turns into something more and he feels even worse.

warnings : astarion's scars, reader is injured.

For weeks Astarion had been travelling by your side. And for weeks he was under the impression he was only using you to get to Baldur's Gate safely. You were a powerful ally, an asset to his plan of revenge.

He would stand by your side, of course, and watch your back as you had always watched his. But he couldn’t hold back how aggravating you were, you didn’t care whether he approved of your decisions or not. You made your own, walked your own street, and he was forced to follow it if he wanted to keep you around.

And for weeks he had watched you talk your way out of situations, or convince a trader to give you free supplies. A master with your words. He watched as you lied and manipulated, and it made his faith in you soar.

But then you would turn around and help a helpless child or a person that meant nothing to you, and his respect for you waivered. Why did they deserve any of your help? It’s not like they helped you in any way. And they definitely wouldn’t help you the same way you chose to help them if it were you stranded on the side of the road with no help. They would leave you, he was sure of it. He would, just like everyone had done to him, no one was deserving of your help if they had nothing to give you in return.

So constantly you would find yourself in front of him, as he yelled at you and glared down at you with fire burning behind his eyes. He was tired of wasting time with people who didn’t matter. “Must you stop to help every worthless person we find on the side of the road?” His voice is venomous and unimpressed. It’s not the first time he has made a complaint, and him continuing to be unacknowledged was becoming more and more irritating each time he tried.

“You’d regret saying that if it was you on the side of the road, and we left you to grovel in your own misery.” Your arms are crossed, disciplinary stare on your face like he’s a child. He hates it.

It’s not like anyone ever stopped to help him in the past.

Too generous. Too kind.

Sure it gave you allies, and more often than not they would reward you for your good deed. But still, you could’ve killed them and taken it from their cold, dead body. Or he could’ve pickpocketed them for you, no time wasted.

Astarion only feels his opinion change when your actions begin to affect him and not just the strangers you pass by through your travels.

Suddenly he feels himself growing overwhelmingly close to you. Close enough that he feels he’s safe to tell you about Cazador and the threat he may play in your life in the future, and in a moment of privacy, just you and him, he offers to show you the scars on your back. You're not sure what to say at first, you just stare and it makes his skin crawl with insecurity.

He shivers when your fingers meet his back to trace along the lines, “He did this?” He can only nod, embarrassed by this moment of transparency and weakness. God forbid he try to speak and all that comes out is a wobbly, pathetic cry where a snide comment laced with sarcasm should be.

You grab his shoulder to turn him around, holding both his hands in your own with a tightness that has his skin crawling in a different way. “I won’t let him hurt you again, we won’t, all of us, you'll never have to fight him alone. We’ll help you, no matter what,” Your thumbs swipe across the skin of his pale and shaky fingers and it sends heat up his cold arm, “I’ll help you.”

It’s so genuine and so sincere, it almost makes the air catch in his lungs.

His eyes widen, and he has to force himself to hide how grateful he is to hear the words leave your mouth. He hadn’t realized that he’d forgotten what it was like to feel safe. To have someone who cares for him so much that they would put their life in danger to protect him. You were always kind to the helpless and needy, he just never thought he would allow himself to fit that description again, especially not in front of you.

You barely know him. You barely know his story, you’ve only seen his scars once and briefly heard of his former master's cruelty. But you’re ready to lay your life down for his cause. For him. To protect him. He feels lighter, holding the weight of Cazadors power on two pairs of shoulders instead of his alone..

Too generous. Too kind.

For a while, he finds himself to be less annoyed by the way you stop to help. He doesn't mind as much when it inevitably slows the journey down. It still bothers him but finds it easier to manage when he sees the satisfactory smile you wear after. The sight almost makes a proud smile appear on his own face, smile lines subtly deepening before he wipes the evidence away.

You impress him, through it all. You hold your own while managing to deal with everyone else’s problems on your back, and while he hates the way you try to help everyone, he admires the way you handle it all.

Again his opinion changes when you reach Moonrise Towers. Whilst exploring, you meet a woman named Araj, a drow, who offers a potion of immense power in exchange for Astarions teeth sinking into her skin. The mere idea has you scoffing, the potion would be nice but you would never jeopardize Astarions freedom in exchange for something that would only benefit yourself.

But she pushes, even after Astarion declines. He is clearly uncomfortable and her continuous attempt to convince him has your blood boiling, face beginning to develop a red tinge from frustration.

“Excuse me if I’m mistaken but I’m sure I just heard him say no..”

“And I’m sure you can tell him to change his mind, he is yours, correct? I assume he follows your orders.” Your eyebrow raises at the suggestion that Astarion was anything but his own being. Your party is murmuring behind you, Karlach’s hand finding a place on your shoulder to tell you to calm down before things get out of hand.

Even Astarion feels himself becoming concerned for how this would pan out. He’d never seen you so angry. A part of him was touched that you could be so angry on his behalf. But the majority of his mind is conflicted on if he should step in before you rip this woman's head clean off her shoulders.

You feel your mouth open to shout at the drow in front of you but Astarions fingers slip within your own, squeezing in warning. Your mind clears a little, and you take a deep breath to calm your breathing. Karlach and Shadowheart stare at the scene in silence, but Karlach’s fingers give your shoulder another reassuring squeeze before slipping away.

“I don’t own him, if that’s what you're trying to imply. He’s his own person. Who can make his own decisions, and he said no. That’s the last I’ll hear of the matter.”

A vampire spawn, a slave to Cazador for so many years, suddenly with the ability to act on his own and think for himself. His heart swells. He can’t think of any other word to describe how he feels but grateful. But maybe something else is lingering deeper underneath? Whatever the feeling is, it clouds his mind and puts a weight on his chest.

Later at camp he dwells on it, it’s hard not to see how your tired eyes consistently meet him. What could you be thinking? He can’t stop focusing on the way you speak to everyone but him, and jealousy is beginning to fester around his tent. What did he do to make you ignore him? When you finally reach him to say goodnight, his jealousy from earlier returns and he wants to send you away, but he can’t.

“Thank you..” He’s cut you off before you can say goodnight and walk away from him, and you're stunned. His voice is soft, much softer then he wanted it to be, but he allows his tone to stay the same. Trust. Trusting you without realizing.

“For what exactly?”

“For what you did at Moonrise. You could’ve forced me to go through with that..but you didn’t,” Astarion feels his eyes soften, stomach turning, “And I’m grateful.”

He gets anxious in front of your eyes when you don’t say anything. But his body becomes lighter when your arms wrap around him. He is certain it’s not a hug for your own comfort, but for his. And going against every instinct in his body that tells him to push you away, he hugs you back, wrapping his arms around you..

“I want you to know I will never put you in a position where you don’t have free will. You control yourself, Astarion, I will never jeopardize your freedom for my own benefit. You're a member of my party..you're my friend. I could never do that to you.”

Friend? He couldn’t remember the last time he had someone to call a friend. If ever. But the words have him squeezing you closer to his body, face slipping into the crevice of your neck.

“I was worried you might’ve been mad at me for refusing her, you were ignoring me. I wasn’t sure what I had done..” His words pull at your heart, you hadn’t meant to make him feel that way..

“Astarion..”

“Hm?” He doesn’t move, he’s not sure if he wants to. Astarion is sure that he could hold you like this for as long as you would let him.

“I didn’t mean to ignore you.. I was actually deciding how I should apologize..”

“Apologize for what, dear?” He scoffs in your ear, he’s so close and the pet name flows with ease from his lips. If it were any other man you wouldn’t have noticed.

“For how I handled her today. I should’ve stayed calm. I just..I got so angry and she kept pushing and I was scared that she would do something to you..”

The feeling is back in his chest, heavy and heating his face. His arms tighten and it silences your rambling, “Don’t apologize for being angry. You did nothing wrong… I actually quite appreciate your anger on my behalf. You didn’t have to but I appreciate that you denied her. I was certain you were going to kill her.” A chuckle stumbles from his lips, breath heavy on your ear.

“I might’ve if you didn’t step in.” He pulls away from you, hands still resting on your arms, and disappointment fills your body.

Astarion feels it again when your eyes look up into his with comfort painted across your face, a jab at his heart, and he is certain. He’s smitten and he can’t help the way his eyes fill with adoration.

You wear a small smile on your face, filling him with comfort, but a sadness lingers in his mind. The fact is , you don’t feel the same and it causes his heart to become heavier. His hands fall from your arms, waving you off with a gentle goodnight before entering his tent. You stay standing in confusion, it sends your thoughts spiraling as you leave towards your own tent.

Too generous. Too kind.

The next few days he is dazed, distracted and it shows. He misses his shots, when you speak to him his mind is elsewhere and the words you deliver slip through his ears. Everyone is clearly annoyed.

But he cannot see it. He truly can’t see or hear anything, his thoughts are screaming at him about you. He cares for someone other than himself. He is depending on someone who is not himself. He’s worried for your well-being, and he knows you’d be better without him by your side. He’s a burden with his mission to defeat Cazador, and he thinks about leaving.

And he thinks about you again. Every time he draws his bow, the thought of losing you fills his head and his fingers slip, arrow flying with unfocused aim. You trip and his previously unattentive eyes fly to your body, catching your arm in his tight grip to keep you from falling. The only words he speaks are soft, “I’ve got you.” He doesn't wait for your acknowledgement before he slips back into his clouded mind.

He is unaware of his surroundings. He isn’t paying attention. Even when you’re fighting and he is tasked with shooting, he isn’t fully there.

But when a cry leaves your mouth, hand clutching your side where you’ve been stabbed, he suddenly sees all. He’s breathing heavily as he rushes to your side to hold his hand on your wound, putting pressure on it. “I’ve got you..I've got you. please..you're gonna be okay..”

His eyes don’t leave yours as Karlach lifts you. He holds your fingers in his own as she carries you to camp for the night. He doesn't leave your side , even after everyone has gone to sleep, and your eyes have closed he remains.

“Astarion?”

Eyes wide, he looks up tiredly from where his eyes were staring at your wound. “Oh..gods. I’m so sorry..” His forehead falls onto your thigh in a huff.

“W..what?” You let your hand fall onto his head, concerned and not fully awake yet.

“I’m so sorry..I..I let you get hurt. I was distracted and you got hurt because of me, my love.”

“Astarion, what are you talking about? What..” You wince as you try to sit up, Astarion lifting his head from your lap instantly when he hears the hiss leave your mouth.

He slips his fingers into your hand, squeezing tightly. “I..I couldn’t stop thinking..and I wasn’t paying attention. If I was..you never would’ve been hurt.”

His words would almost make you laugh if they weren’t so somber, “Astarion please..this is not your fault.”

“I knew this would happen..”

“What?”

“I’m only putting you in danger, being in this group, I’ll only be a burden on you. This will keep happening..”

Your heart sinks, “Astarion..”

“No..”, His eyes won't meet yours, “I can’t stay any longer. I need to find Cazador.” You open your mouth to speak but he already knows what you're about to say, “Without you.”

“No..no way!”

“Please..just..” His fingers squeeze around yours again, “I can’t keep hurting the person I love. I can’t do it..not to the only person who's ever allowed me to feel safe.”

“Astarion..” You place your other hand over his, sitting up straighter to put your face in his, “If you think for a minute that you can get away with telling me you love me, just to run away and leave me, you’re mistaken.” Your foreheads meet, head falling to touch his while lifting your head to cup his cheek in your palm, thumb rubbing over a dried patch of blood on his face.

He stayed by your side when he could’ve gone to rest and clean himself off, and it makes your heart swell in your chest. You figured you would be alone when you woke up but here Astarion sits in front of you with dried blood covering his face and making his strands of his hair hard under your fingers, eyes tired but still open.

“Besides I told you, you’d never have to fight him alone..ever again.”

“I can’t do this to you.” His eyes close, lips pursing.

“You're not doing anything to me, we're in this together. I promise. ”

“I..”

“Astarion. I said we're in this together. You can leave but you better believe I will follow you until the end to keep you safe. Just like you keep me safe..”

Too Generous. Too Kind.

He opens his eyes to look into yours. They’re so soft, searching your eyes for genuinity. He is unsure whether you mean everything you're saying. But Astarion is sure then as he searches, you’ve never been more truthful in your life. You mean everything. His barricade is broken and he slowly moves in to plant his lips softly to yours, hands shaking against your skin.

It's soft and unsure. Just like he is. And he doesn’t stay there long in fear of making you uncomfortable, or god forbid he irritates your injury. You can’t help but smile at the genuine smile that peeks out at his lips.

“So..the person you love?”

“Careful..I can still take it back.”

#astarion #astarion x reader #baldurs gate astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #x reader #oneshot #drabble #baldurs gate #astarion acunin #gn reader

1K notes · View notes

secretmellowblog · 1 month

Text

Les Mis Hidden Name Meanings: “Fantine” (posting here because it got popular on TikTok)

Every character in Les Mis has a name with a deeper symbolic meaning— here’s a video I made for the official @barricadescon TikTok about the meaning behind “Fantine!”

Transcript and Digressions I left out of the video, under the cut:

Every charcater’s name in Les Mis is either a pun, a reference to a historical/mythological figure, or had some deep symbolic meaning — and sometimes it’s all of them at on.

The name “Fantine” comes from the french word “enfantine” or “childike, infant-like.” Her name basically means “Baby.” And obviously this speaks to her innocence and niavetee. But also “baby” is kind of,.,, well it sounds more like an informal term of endearment than an actual legal name?

And that’s because– Plot twist– Fantine isn’t her legal name! What is her legal name? She doesn’t have one.

And the reason she doesn’t have one is directly tied to political turmoil of the era she was born into.

Fantine grew up an orphan living on the streets, without a family without parents. Hugo tells us the origin of her name:

“she bore on her brow the sign of the anonymous and the unknown. (...)She was called Fantine. Why Fantine? She had never borne any other name. At the epoch of her birth the Directory still existed. She had no family name; she had no family; no baptismal name; the Church no longer existed. She bore the name which pleased the first random passer-by, who had encountered her, when a very small child, running bare-legged in the street. She received the name as she received the water from the clouds upon her brow when it rained.”

This moment is adapted beautifully in the Manga adaptation by Takahiro Arai, which I recommend to anyone who loves Les mis, manga, or any combination of those things.

But now let’s talk about the Directory.

To wildly oversimplifly a lot of complex history: Before the French Revolution, the Catholic Church’s records of baptismal ceremonies were often used as a registry of people’s legal names. During the French Revolution, the Revolutionary government– including the Directory– put in place a series of policies we now call “dechristianization,” where they attempted to dismantle the power of Catholic church.

Fantine was born during the age of these dechristianization policies. So she was never baptised, her baptismal name was never recorded, so she has no recorded legal or family name. She’s slipped through the cracks of the legal system, and ended up completely anonymous.

It sets Fantine up as this anonymous child of the Revolution– a stand in for everyone who was left behind when the Revolution was left behind, and kings were restored to the throne.

Fantine’s namelessness is meant to show atomized . How she has NO support system. She has nothing to connect her to other people, nothing to connect her to a support system.

Finally, the way Fantine tends to “slip through the cracks” is something that follows her throughout her life. When she’s fired from her job at a factory, Maroy Madeleine never learns of it– Fantine has this tendency to overlooked and forgotten. She is born anonymous and she dies anonymous. At the end of the story, she is buried in an unmarked grave, with not even the name “Fantine” on her headstone.

It ties into novel’s questions about which people we consider worth remembering, whose lives are worth being records.

And obviously Fantine is not the only character in Les Mis whose name has a deeper symbolic meaning. If you have any other Les Mis character names you’d like to explain, leave their name in the comments below.

Thank you for watching!

From the description of the original tiktok, here are some things that were left out of the video for time:

How this all relates to Cosette’s name(s)

Fantine’s nickname “The Blonde,” and how this relates to the way she’s dehumanized by Tholomyes

How the 2018 Bbc series fundamentally misunderstands Fantine’s character, and how one sign of this is that they give her a full legal first and last name

How Fantine’s name shows up/is revealed is significant parts of the story (like when Valjean reveals her signature on a letter to Thenardier, allowing him to take Cosette away)

How Fantine’s inability to write ties into the way it’s difficult for her to record her own story

How some of Valjean’s last words are revealing Fantine’s name to Cosette

Thanks again for reading!

#les mis #les miserables #Fantine #:3 #tiktok #barricades con

365 notes · View notes

alpaca-clouds · 10 months

Text

Let me talk Anarchism

Okay, let me quickly talk about it, because I am so annoyed with this. For once in the way how it relates to Solarpunk, but also in relation to media. And yeah, choosing good old Hobie here, because while it was kinda played for humor with him a lot, he was one of the few characters in media I have seen, that are actually kinda a positive representation of anarchism.

You know, media in general misrepresents anarchism all the time. Sometimes for propaganda purposes, and sometimes because the creator does not know any better and has grown up with said propaganda themselves and just believe it. Most of the time, media hence represents Anarchism as "Society without rules!", which is most certainly not what anarchism is.

The word Anarchism comes from the Greek An Arkhos, which translates into "Without Rulers". That is exactly what Anarchism means. Anarchism is a political philosophy that aims to get rid of all unjustified, involuntary hierarchies.

This is, by the way, why Anarcho Capitalism might use the word, but can never be anarchist, because capitalism aims to build unjustifiable hierarchies. It is exactly the goal of the system. So Anarcho Capitalism is a contradiction in itself.

An anarchist society will still have rules. We know that, because there have actually been societies in history, that today we would call anarchist. It is just that instead of a sort of some group of people ruling over everyone else deciding on those rules, everyone would get to have their say in it. That is, why those historical examples of anarchism for the most part have sprung up in smaller, close-nit societies, because before the age of the internet it would've been rather hard to make everyone's voice heard.

If you are wondering: "But isn't democracy already doing that?" The answer is no. Because democracy is not working, due to the politicians having all the power and the populus not being able to force them to stick to whatever they promised during the election. We cannot recall politicians, who have lied to us. So for the most part, it is the people with big money, who influence the politics. People, who were not even elected, but who the politicians will try to please more than the average joe, who has voted for them.

It is another reason, why a lot of anarchists are against the police. Not only do they use police violence, but they are in a position, where they are allowed to use it against people, often without much reprecussions. And all of that, without the people having any say in who does and does not get to be a police(wo)man. It is another unjustified hierarchy.

And, yes, it is also why anarchists tend to be against the concept of nation states. Because internationally some states rule over others. Colonialism might've ended on paper, but it has not ended in practice. The reason some nations are poor, while others are rich, is that the poor nations get exploited by rich nations. An unjustified hierarchy. And that is without starting on the fact how many borders have been drawn by people, who had no right to do so.

On the small scale, though, anarchism first and foremost is about helping people. Mutual aid is one of the core principles of the anarchist movement. Helping people, who got left behind by the unjustified state and the people who are in power. It is also about empowering people and allowing them to find their own voice.

See, here is the fact: One of the core believes in anarchy is, that people are actually not terrible. If the state stopped existing tomorrow, people would not run around, murder and pillage. They would still help one another. We have seen this time and time again when through war or natural catastrophies systems of power have failed. People help each other. Because we are actually a pretty social species.

This is also why I absolutely loathe the depiction we see in a lot of media. Most of all in Legend of Korra. Where not only the Red Lotus, as an anarchist group, does not do jack shit in terms of mutual aid and things like that... We also see basically the Earth Kingdom go to ruins and violence within minutes of the Earth Queen having been killed. Like, no, that is not how people would react in that situation. There would not be instant riots or some shit. Jesus. What made them think that?

And yes, sure. Some anarchists might riot on the streets, because they riot AGAINST the unjust system. But always remember: Usually, when there is police violence for example against a protest, it is your friendly neighborhood anarchist, who will be willing to put themselves between you and the police.

#Solarpunk #anarchism #anti capitalism #anti patriarchy #communism #anarcho communism #fuck the police #media #politics #the legend of korra #spider punk #astv hobie

742 notes · View notes

three-penguins-in-a-trench-coat · 4 months

Text

Memory in Stardew Valley is kinda fucked

So, memory in Stardew Valley is almost like a tangible thing, and I wanna talk about it. I mean technically speaking, you can sell it, trade it, swap it, bop it, twist it and so on and so forth. Why do I wanna talk about it? Because I have no social life and the only thing I can feel is the rage of my ancestors as I harvest yet another batch of ancient fruit wine.

Most people know about the Dark Shrine of Memory, the fun statue that wipes your ex's memories for a quick buck. Now that's pretty neat and all, but I think this leads to further interpretation I'm sure Concerned Ape wouldn't think is relevant but I'm gonna push it.

Someone had to put that statue there. I don't think it's the witch, because she has to shell up 30 big ones every time another thirsty wizard comes along. Also, Rasmodius still has his memories of them, and if I were her I wouldn't want a guy like Razzle-Dazzle thinking about her. And it's probably vice-versa, as the witch still curses the town from time to time to spite the purple-haired goblin.

Mr Qi would be a reasonable guess, especially since you have to pay to use it, and he is known to have several marketing schemes around the place, but this one doesn't feel like him. I think there's another powerful creature out and about, they've stumbled across a way to erase memories and are using it for profit. The witch is just a tool behind the mastermind.

On top of the memory shrine, the Dark Shrine of Selfishness also contains a portion of memory magic. No one remembers the children that disappeared. No one except the farmer. Perhaps some immunity comes with being a fallen god, or perhaps it's simply because they're the ones that paid, so they are cursed to forever remember their sin. Either way, considering the fact that two of the statues directly erase memories, there's something interesting going on.

Another aspect of memories that people don't often think about is resetting days. Now this does reach a fair bit into undertale, but I think it applies pretty well here too. Days can loop over and over again, and no one will remember any of them, except for the Farmer. With the knowledge and foresight of what's happening, the Farmer can escape danger and the villagers know no better. There is perhaps only two other people in Stardew who might have an idea of what's going on. The Witch, and Mr Qi.

The witch is obvious, she has the shrines in her house, but from Mr Qi's dialogue, we can gleam an idea of what he may know.

I got to where I am through the force of pure willpower, kid. You see... The mind is a very powerful tool. In fact, it's the most powerful tool in all of reality... and beyond

“Some things transcend time and space, kid. It's a unique feeling in the heart... a whisper of things beyond.”

Now it could be pretty easy to interpret this a hundred different ways, but I want to link it to memory right now. The specific wording states that Mr Qi might be aware of resetting save files and that memories can be erased. I don't think he can alter other people's memories (though we don't know enough about him to be sure), but he may have found a way to keep his own memories safe.

Perhaps it's even how he found the Farmer. One day, he wakes up again, and he knows it's the same day. This happens sometimes, and he's forced to live the same day twice, three times or even more sometimes. He seeks out the source of the issue and stumbles across the farmer. On the surface, they seem like a regular person, until one day, the day resets again and the Farmer acts like they've done it a thousand times, taking every right move in the mines and getting everything they failed to do in the last attempt.

I think Mr Qi would want to keep an eye on someone like that.

From all of this, I have come to a conclusion. The statues present the idea of memory, but they also show that memory magic can be used to accomplish very specific tasks. We've only seen a few examples, but it wouldn't be much of a stretch to say that memory could be distorted a thousand different ways in Stardew. Perhaps none of the memories you have of your neighbour are real, and they never existed before yesterday. Or your parents actually died when you were three and you were raised by the spirits of hell. You actually have the memories of your best friend who died last week. Who knows?

Nothing is real, reality is an illusion.

#there is the possibility I'm overthinking this #but ive never listened to the rational part of my brain before #im not starting now #stardew valley #stardew #sdv #stardew farmer #sdv mr qi #mr qi #stardew theories #stardew theory

213 notes · View notes

heartfullofleeches · 8 months

Text

Kreme Filled

Yan Candy Person + G.N Candy Witch Reader

Summary: Blurb in which Witch Reader teaches a friend a bit about their anatomy and said friend teaches them about theirs. Said friend almost happens to be made of fried douth

(Tags: Light/Candy body horror, slightly suggestive, fingering but not in the way that you think, no use of y/n - reader is referred to as Sweets)

"Whoa!- I didn't know you had a hole here too. I learn something new about you everyday, Sweets!-"

Living with folks made out of pastries and sweets for so long, it's surprising how easy it was to forget their various attributes and lack there of every now and then. Showered by so much love and acceptance in the community, it almost came as a shock the first few time to remember those caring hearts were made of sugar and syrup instead of the same blood and tissue as your own. Often times you recalled only these features by the spillage of their syrupy fluids, but frequent instances across that further separated your human skin from their sweet, doughy flesh.

Kreme was one of the sweetest souls you've met by far both in personality and taste. A local pastry with a hair that reminded you of freshly made donuts and coincidentally made of the same dough. Piped with passion for design and clinging to your side, Kreme visited your bakery daily for different pigments of frosting to decorate their clothing and self with whenever creativity struck which was hourly for them. On the plus side you had a few bracelets and rings too delicate for you to wear, but made them happy when displayed around your kitchen and home.

While piping the frosting need for a new batch of sprinkles on a tray, Kreme had grown bored by lax amount of attention on them and so they decided to pull a little prank to lighten the mood. They slathered their hands in powered sugar, snuck up behind you as concentration lowered your guard, raised your shirt under the guise of a friendly hug, and brought their powder covered hand down on your sides. Rubbing the powder into your skin, Kreme noticed something as their palms ran over your stomach. A hole almost like the one in their torso only much smaller and refused to open no matter how their fingers pried. They tried again, but stopped upon hearing you cry out in discomfort.

"Ow! Kreme, that hurts - cut it out."

Kreme immediately drops their hands, staring at you like a deer in headlights as you face them. "Oh! I'm really sorry, Sweets - it's just that your hole is so tiny I was trying to make it bigger for you." The fiend slaps their hands over their mouth. "I'm sorry - are they supposed to be that small for your kind? Please don't tell me I seriously hurt you."

You gently pull their hands from their face, wiping yours of its confusion in attempts to soothe their rising fears. "I'm okay, Kreme, really. But, what do you mean by... hole?"

Kreme lifts your shirt and points at your stomach. "This one! Never seen anything like it before."

You follow their finger, gears clicking as you look just above your waist. "Oh.... ohhhh that hole. Well, when people like me are... created, we're attached by a cord to our makes that gives us nutrients till we come out and that "hole" is where we were attached at."

Kreme touches your skin, eyes growing wider with every word. "That's so cool! I love learning more about you, Sweets. Human stuff was so boring when the others told me about them, but when it's about you I wanna listen all day... Wanna see mine?"

"Your what?"

Kreme laughs. "My hole, silly. It goes all the way through and I can put so many things in it. Frosting, jam, sprinkles. I love sprinkles - especially the ones you make me. Anyway, wanna see it?"

"Um...."

Not waiting for a reply, Kreme rolls up their tee and proudly presents the centimeters wide hole in the center of their chest. Crouching on your knees, you could see straight through it, and in at the softer wall of dough that made up their inners. By guessing, you estimated you could fit around three fingers in the hole with no problem. You try to shake the thought, but it keeps crawling back to mind.

"It really is a hole..." You reach out to examine the crater - having enough restrain to before your hand meets their skin.

"Yea!.. Stick your fingers in it."

You stumble on your feet and words - caught off guard by their sudden shift in tone. "What?"

Kreme smiles, directing one of your hands towards the entrace of their hole. "I want you - to put your fingers inside me. I can tell that you're thinking about it~"

Urged by their guiding hand and pleading eyes, you extend your index finger and slowly begin to insert it into their hole. The texture is akin to mashed cake as you imagined, but it's slightly more moist than pictured. Tearing an earlier theory you add another finger and push them both deeper, the walls of pastry around them contracting as Kreme whimpers - squirming, and even whining out as you pull back.

"Am I hurting you?"

Kreme shakes their head, grip alarming firm for someone of their kind. "No... no, no - it's just that whenever anyone else tries to touch my hole it's always a bit uncomfortable, but if it's Sweets.... If it's you, I'm okay with anything. Please keep going."

You didn't want to hurt them, but your curiosity had been peaked.

"Lemme know if any part of this bothers you and we'll stop, okay?"

Kreme nods as if they understand, but is too transfixed on your fingers as you add yet another and shove them all inside of them to utter more than desperate cries. Cold air kisses your fingertips as they fall out the back entry of their hole before being sucked back in. There's a little wiggling room, but not enough where you can't attempt to put in another digit. Kreme, noting your hesitant and dying to feel more of you looking around.

"Oh, oh - check out this fun trick I can do." Reaching over to the table, Kreme nabs the - tilting their head back as they swallow the frosting. Your fingers rooted in the tightness of their midsection run slick with cream as it slides down their throat, pouring out over your hand and onto the floor - spilling onto your apron and legs. Working as a lubricant, you successfully fit all fingers of your dominant hand in side of the pastry and out through the other side as their legs buckle, nearly giving out as they hover over you. You stand to help them upright and due to the building ache in your legs from your position. Kreme throws their arms over your shoulder, pushing with every pull and shaking as your hand stretches their hole wider. It'd close back to normal later on, but for now they revelled at the thought of having a permanent marker of your affliction on them. Tearing them up from the inside and leaving them starving for your attention whenever you close your doors for the evening. It too much. If only they could have one thing to be left with until the next day. One little thing to keep them going until the sun rose tomorrow.

"Sweets... Ah... deeper... I wanna feel you... always..."

As with all good things, their pleasure comes to an end to soon. You slide your hand out of their torso, allowing them to fall slack in your arms as they collect themselves. You subconsciously lick at the frosting coating your hand still in autopilot from closing shifts at your bakery, which in turn adds to their lightheadedness. You play coy to the kiss they sneak to your cheek as they stand on their own, gazing bashfully at the floor.

"Sweets?...."

"Yeah?.."

"I sorta lied when I said I never paid attention to things about humans... I know about various parts of their bodies and some of the urges... your kind gets... We really aren't so different if we really think about it."

You pause mid wipping your hands on your apron. "What are you getting at?"

"I'm saying the next time we do this I want your cream inside me instead. I don't want anything else than to feel you inside me - forever. It's the only thing that can make me truly happy. I never want to leave you so please don't leave me.

Kreme kisses your cheek again as they grab at the strings of your apron. "Just give it some thought. For now, I'll be taking this since I got it all dirty. Love you bunches, Sweets - bye!"

Loosening the tight knot, Kreme tears off your apron and waves it as their flag of triumph as they flee out the back door of the kitchen - leaving you alone to clean everything up.

#yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere x you #yandere blurb #yandere insert #yandere x reader #yandere scenarios #yandere oc #yandere candy #witch reader #Sweets witch

309 notes · View notes

mrsbuckybarnes1917 · 5 months

Text

Anonymous request: You're also an Avenger and you love the Christmas time but everyone else doesn't. So you kinda get sad every year as you're the only one enjoying the time. One day you decide to put on some Christmas tunes and start making cookies when Bucky starts watching you from the other room, smiling to himself as he sees you all being happy and cute. He decides to change his mind and joins you, helping you make cookies, even though he's clumsy but you enjoy his presence (as you both have feelings for each other). In the end you're covered in dough and stuff and he grabs you and kisses you, admitting both your feelings, while the rest of the team watches you both happy from afar.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 2,195 words

Warnings: tooth rotting sweetness, beware of diabetes!

A/N: Shoutout to @samodivaa for aiding and abetting this endeavor!

To you, they were family. And Christmas was supposed to be a time for family. At least that is what you'd been raised to believe, even though you weren't a Christian or religious. To you Christmas was a time for togetherness, for helping others, showing kindness and love and having hope. Shortly before joining the team, you had lost your family and the Avengers had become a surrogate family of sorts. You loved them dearly and wanted them to experience the same joy you did at this time of year.

Tony had graciously let you order a magnificent tree, which you'd basically decorated on your own, with the assistance of your inhuman powers. The others had watched you or walked by showing various degrees of enthusiasm for your activities, ranging from praise to outright disregard for your endeavors. Despite your gratitude, your friends’ lack of interest did dampen your spirit a little.

The closer it got to Christmas Day, your resolve to spread some Christmas cheer grew stronger. It helped that you’d hung a blown up photograph of your own family’s last Christmas picture opposite your bed.

“Don’t worry guys, I’ll get them to come around. I won’t let the love die. I promise,” you whispered in front of the image before starting your day.

You had come up with a plan to try and win your friends over to the festivities. No one could ever say no to your sister’s secret cookie recipe. She had had people practically drooling in anticipation of stuffing their faces with her Christmas concoctions. So after a morning of grueling training with Steve, you took a shower and headed to the store to purchase the correct ingredients. Upon your return, you found Sam, Steve, Bucky and Nat congregated in the living room adjoining the kitchen. They were pouring over some plans over their next mission.

“Hey Nexus! What you got there?” Sam called as you entered the room.

You rolled your eyes at his use of your superhero name. You hated it, but the media had used it far too often and you were stuck with it.

“None of your business, Falcon!” you snarked back at him.

You made a pit stop at the table they were sitting at, Nat and Bucky trying to hide their sniggering faces behind their hands. Steve’s face remained relatively passive, giving you a kind smile for which you were grateful.

“Come on, Sugar. You bring me something sweet?” Sam certainly knew how to turn on the charm, especially in front of Bucky. He knew that the Winter Soldier was harboring a little crush on you and he played up in front of him to see if he could provoke Bucky into acting on his feelings. So far he hadn’t succeeded, but he could definitely hope for a Christmas miracle.

“Here.” You pulled out a bag of his favorite treats which you’d bought back for him from the store.

“So anyone interested in helping me bake some festive cookies?” you asked, shaking a bag of chocolate chips in front of their faces.

“Sorry, Sugar. I have to go talk to my sister. She wants me to buy some new fangled toys for the boys.” He pressed a chaste kiss against your cheek and took his leave.

Nat stood up with Steve. “We can’t stay. We have to show our faces in front of some high powered windbags,” she wrinkled her nose before giving you a hug. “Save some for me though!”

“Me too,” Steve dropped a quick kiss on your forehead before following Nat out of the door. He was in on Sam’s plan to light a fire under Bucky’s ass.

“Buck?” you asked dubiously.

“Not sure that’s my thing, Doll.”

“Your loss,” you replied in a slightly sing-song tone of voice and shuffled over to the kitchen with your bag of goodies, letting Bucky go back to brooding over the book he had pulled out of his jacket pocket.

Sauntering around the kitchen, you laid out the ingredients. You grinned as a happy thought entered your brain and you pulled out your phone letting FRIDAY connect to your bluetooth. Bucky looked up as a tune started to play, it didn’t surprise him in the least that you had your very own Christmas playlist. He couldn’t help but be distracted from his novel as you swayed around the kitchen measuring out flour and butter. But it wasn’t your dance moves that eventually got Bucky’s attention, it was the sound of your voice.

The singing voice you’d been born with was silky smooth, no one would have guessed that you were in possession of such a sweet instrument. Ever since you’d come into your powers, you had the ability to project your voice much further, sing louder with a lot more ease. But you never quite got the confidence to use it publicly. Bucky, however, knew better. He followed your schedule closely enough to know when you’d be in the shower, and he would excuse himself to put his ear to the vent to listen to you belt out your favorite tunes. And it was pure luck that today he would be getting a private concert. He sat, chin resting on his vibranium palm, lost in a fantasy of dancing with you.

This reverie was broken by your sudden gasp and a clatter of a bowl falling to the floor. Bucky was out of his seat in a flash, by your side, helping you clear up your mess.

“Thanks, Bucky!”

“No problem,” he grinned shyly. He always felt a little nervous when he was in such close proximity to you. He wondered if you could hear his heart pounding. “Looks like you need a little help.”

Had you just heard correctly? Was Sergeant Bucky Barnes offering to help you bake Christmas goodies?

“Really?” you asked, hopefully.

There was no way Bucky could say no to those shining eyes, the sincerity behind them when you looked at him. He wanted to be close to you, but at the same time he wanted to run away in shame. Why would someone as pure as you be interested in someone like him? At least, that’s what he always told himself when you smiled in his direction. The two of you were friends, there was no doubt about that, but you were friends with everyone. Bucky wanted more. He wanted all of you.

“Well, I can’t have you accidentally hurting yourself making baked goods.” A faint blush stained his cheeks as he spoke.

Not that you noticed, attributing his color to the rising temperature from the oven.

“Can’t have that at all!” you giggled. “Here, want to measure out the flour?”

You move over, giving him space to do his own thing and pick up the eggs for your next recipe. Your concentration in avoiding dropping shell pieces into the mix was broken by the sound of Bucky’s voice singing quietly to Bing Crosby’s White Christmas. It took a lot of effort to bite back the smile the vision brought to your face. No one would believe the sight; the big bad Winter Soldier singing Holiday singles while baking festive treats. You never understood why people were frightened of him, why people would cross the street to avoid him. It made you angry when people shot fearful looks at him, you gritted your teeth when his reputation was slated in the media. Why couldn’t they see the soft hearted man you had come to love? You had given up trying to hide your grin as you imagined him in an apron with the words “kiss the chef” printed in bold red letters across it.

“Doll?” Bucky’s voice interrupted your fantasy, he was sporting a slightly concerned look. “You okay? You’ve gone really red.”

“Yeah, fine,” you squeaked. “I should probably stop drinking the wine.”

“Doll, you haven’t even opened the wine.” Bucky frowned at the empty glasses and corked bottle on the counter.

You tittered nervously, “yeah, right, umm, it’s just a bit hot.” You fanned your face, trying to disperse the deepening crimson color that was starting to look the same as the wine bottle before you.

Bucky shuffled closer to you. “Are you sure?”

“I’m fine, really, Bucky. Why don’t we start mixing this together?”

You handed Bucky the softened butter and were about to instruct him to beat it together with the sugar, but before you had the chance, Bucky had dropped the entire block into the bowl of flour he had just finished measuring out. A tiny yelp left your lips, which turned into a smothered giggle as Bucky’s flour coated face emerged through the mist created by the crater in the bowl. Without hesitation, you grabbed a clean towel and started dusting his maroon Henley.

Bucky was laughing along with you as you dusted away the flour. Eventually you'd cleared up most of the flour, but he had missed a spot. You mustered up your courage to reach up and brush your fingers over his nose.

“Did you get it all?” he asked.

He was standing impossibly close to you. And you wondered if you had imagined the way his eyes flicked down to your lips for a fraction of a second.

“I think so,” you smiled bashfully. “But maybe you should let me finish up on this.”

“Do you want me to do anything else?” Bucky felt a sudden pang of discomfort. What if you didn't want him around at all.

“Yes! I suck at opening those bottles.” You pointed at the wine. “Do you mind pouring a couple of glasses for us?”

“No problem!” Bucky completed his task efficiently and with enthusiasm.

He waited patiently for you, watching you mix the batter with expertise. You rolled out the dough and held out a couple of cookie cutting molds.

“Which one? Snowflake or Christmas tree?”

Bucky grabbed the snowflake from your open hand and went to work on the dough. You couldn't help but notice how cute he looked as he tried to fit as many cookies on one roll without having to re-roll. It was adorable how his tongue stuck out a little as he concentrated on the task before him. You let him arrange his concoctions on the baking tray.

“What now?”

As if on cue, the oven binged, indicating that the cupcakes you'd put in earlier were done.

“Now, we swap this tray for that one!” you pointed at the oven.

“No problem!” Bucky opened the oven and shoved his left hand inside to grab the baking tray.

“Bucky!” you shrieked. “You don't have any oven gloves!”

Bucky chuckled.

“Doesn't it burn?” you demanded, a little distressed by his nonchalance.

“Doll, calm down.” He put the tray of cupcakes on the counter and showed you his metal palm. “It's fine, metal, remember?”

When your heart finally stopped pounding from panic, you covered your face in embarrassment. Bucky took your fingers and gently pried them off your face, smiling down at you, his eyes filled with more mirth than you were used to.

“So want to frost the cakes?” You grabbed the closest cone of frosting, trying to hide behind it.

“Sure.”

Bucky leaned into your side, making you squeeze the frosting filled cone with unease and painting your face with a green glaze. Bucky was having the time of his life, the thought that he was making you uncomfortable was giving him a much needed confidence boost to do what he wanted to.

“Errr, Doll, you have a little.” He motioned at his mouth.

“Oh,” you wiped a small spot off your cheek, not quite getting all of it. “Did I get it?”

Bucky sucked his lips in for a moment, contemplating his next move. “May I?”

You nodded. He placed his hand on your jaw, his thumb next to the edge of your mouth. “There's just a little…”

Bucky leaned in slowly, his eyes focused on yours for a moment looking for signs of discomfort from your part.

To you, everything felt like it was moving in slow motion. Gently, Bucky covered your sugar coated lips with his and licked it off. His tenderness took your breath away.

As he finally drew back, he stopped, his nose brushing yours. His eyes searched yours for a reaction.

“Is it gone?”

“Want me to do it again, to make sure?”

“I'd like that.”

This time you kissed him back, letting his tongue tango with yours. Bucky's warm hands brushed your arms, coming to rest on your waist while yours found purchase on his sturdy chest. When the kiss ended, you felt flustered but the corners of your mouth wouldn't stop turning up.

Bucky picked up another colored cone. “So this can't be too hard, right?”

You laughed, showing him how you liked to decorate your cakes. Even though you'd not spoken the words out loud, you and Bucky had a mutual understanding about how you felt for each other.

And unbeknownst to you and Bucky, your friends watched the blossoming romance unfold with knowing smiles and a mild frown from Steve who forked up $50 to Sam for his accurate predictions.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes fan fiction #finding the christmas spirit

329 notes · View notes

padfootdaredmetoo · 3 months

Text

Attachments

Anakin Skywalker X Padawan Reader

This was purely selfish, but I couldn't get it out of my head. I don't think there is a demand for these sorts of fics. Anyway, this takes place during the Revenge of the Sith. The reader is Anakin's Padawan from the Clone Wars. When she hears that Anakin is fallen to the dark side she decides it's a great time to confess her feelings. (she is legal and he didn't know her as a kid) (I'm not exactly well versed in Star Wars lore so apologies in advance)

Warnings: Kissing

You were not entirely shocked by Obi-Wan’s words. The chancellor's words about the Republic's corruption had drawn you in too. But No way Anakin was a Sith. You had been beside him the whole war. No way he would turn his back on you or Obi-Wan or his life.

Maybe that was your heart speaking. You could feel darkness clouding him but could still feel him well enough to find him. You landed your ship and walked out. The planet's heat bit at your skin and your eyes burned.

You felt him acknowledge your presence and your stomach filled with nerves. Anakin had been through a lot in his life and you saw how people often treated him. You knew there was a chance he was so far gone that killing you wouldn't be an issue.

But your heart held so much hope you were rooted on the path in front of you. You had tried to be a good Padawan, tried to avoid attachment. But avoiding attachment to him was almost impossible. Everything about him puts you at ease.

He emerged from the shadowy arch onto the bridge you had landed on. His hood was drawn and you wanted nothing more than to rip it off. You wanted see his eyes while he broke your heart.

“Anakin.” You broke the silence and the hurt was already palpable in your voice. He moved towards you, coming close and grabbing your shoulders.

“You have to understand. The corruption, all of this war, everything it’s -”

“All lies, Anakin. Palpatine is playing everyone, I don’t trust him.”

“The power is necessary to bring balance to the galaxy. It’s necessary to save you.” Anakin’s voice was dark and it caused you to shudder.

“I don’t want you to be the chosen one.” You whispered raising your hands up slowly and pushing his hood back. His eyes were varying dark shades of red.

“Who do you want me to be then?” He snapped. Everyone always needed or wanted him to be something, you were no exception.

“Mine.” You barely got the words out. This confession was going to doom you, yet you knew if there was a way, any chance of bringing him back, you had to take it. His eyes flared.

“I must master death to keep you alive. My dreams - I won't lose you like my mother.” You could feel his mental blocks fluttering.

“You saw me dying surrounded by lava.” You waved a hand around. “So save me.” He thought about your words for a moment.

“Not even the Sith can master death, they can move bodies, do you really want Palpatine inside me?” You raised a brow and he gripped your shoulders tighter in anger.

“No, but I - I can’t go back now.” You felt his mind move back to the control room behind him. All those separatists dead.

“Don’t judge me if I don't mourn for them.” You knew you should be more serious about things, but that’s just how you were with Anakin. They could be in the thick of battle still telling jokes.

“He wants me to go kill the younglings,” Anakin whispered.

“Good Luck.” You snorted and his eyes flared. “Anakin you cried like a baby when you held Senator Amidala's kids for the first time. You can do a lot of things, but killing children isn't one of them.”

“Why are you so sure of me?” His voice was breaking and you could feel his emotions radiating off of him more freely.

“Because I love you.” You felt his arms slacken and moved towards him. Grabbing his face.

“The code-”

“Had never stopped us from misbehaving before.” You watched the war raging in his mind. You decided to go for it, worst case you would die but at least you would know what it would be like to kiss him. You pulled at his face and raised up on your tiptoes. He didn't make it easy for you, but then again he never did.

Your lips crashed against his and you felt his arms wrap around you tightly. His head bowed to you and he kissed you back. The attachment forming between you was all-consuming. It took all of you and you could feel his memories and mind pressing against yours. He felt everything inside you. All your emotions about him. There was no space to feel self-conscious as his own love poured against you. Tears spilled down your cheeks and he gripped at your flesh through your robes.

Mine - Be mine Anakin

Your mind kept saying it over and over and over again before you realized he could probably hear it. His kisses were harsh and consuming and you could feel them in your soul. There is nowhere you wouldn't follow this bond. You prayed he would be kind, if only for your sake, and return to the light.

A splash of lava washed up on the edge of the bridge as chunks of rocks slid into it. He broke the kiss abruptly.

“Time to save you.” He motioned towards the ramp of the ship. You went inside and like every mission over the past three years, you resumed your usual positions. His eyes were their usual rich brown and you felt your muscles relax. You took the first easy breath in a long time.

He chose you.

“You have a stowaway on this ship.” He said. You stood up and moved in front of Anakin, lightsaber drawn. A move he repeatedly tried to get you to stop. But at the end of the hall, Obi-Wan’s figure revealed itself.

Anakin struggled with his master occasionally and you hoped that this didn’t set him back. He needed time to rest before coming to terms with everything if he was going to stay in the light. After that, they could lecture him.

“Master,” Anakin said in a neutral voice.

“Anakin.” Obi-Wan greeted him with a broken voice. Anakin moved past you and moved towards his master. Obi-Wan grabbed Anakin’s face looking into his eyes before making a choking sound.

His arms wrapped around Anakin tightly.

“My boy, my son.” The tears were evident in his voice. “I failed you. Anakin -” His voice cut off as Anakin hugged him back.

“It wasn’t your fault, master.” Anakin was crying too.

“It was, it is. I should have- I was so focused on doing everything by the code, I forgot some of Qui-Gon’s most important rules.” You decided to resume your spot steering the ship giving them a moment. “He tried to tell me of corruption, I didn’t see it till-”

“Master no one saw it. I let you down and I’m sorry.”

“It is behind us now.” He released Anakin and patted him on the back. You looked over your shoulder and watched as he tried to compose himself. Tears were streaming down your own face.

“Not you too,” Anakin said moving towards you.

“Dad moments kill me.” You mumbled wiping the tears on the back of your hands. Anakin took his seat and motioned for you to come sit on his lap. You didn't need to be asked twice. You curled up in his lap, tucking your face into his neck. Obi-Wan took your spot.

“I haven't slept in a very long time.” You yawned “I’m sorry if I doze off.” Anakin only kissed the top of your head. He was just happy to be trusted to hold your sleeping body. To be trusted to watch over you.

#anakin skywalker #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker x reader #Revenge of the sith #Star wars #Star wars fic #Anakin Skywalker fic #anakin skywalker imagine

145 notes · View notes

kasagia · 6 months

Text

Innocent

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/General Kirigan/The Darkling x fem! heartrender! reader Summary: You're not like the other Grishas. It took you some time to master your power, but you're still unsure of your control over it. That's why it scares you when you're chosen for a special mission in Fjerda. Luckily your general cares about all his people... or at least about you... actually way too much, but you're not going to complain at all. Requested by: @dreampissybaby I hope you like it! 😊💙🖤 Warning(s): the reader is unsure of herself; the reader does not want to kill (but is ultimately forced to for Aleks); blood; mentions of murder; sharing body heat, Aleks comforts the reader; Words count: 5,7 k ~•♤♤♤•~ Aleksander Morozova's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~

The time has come. Your first mission.

You spent years in the Little Palace training, going to classes with other heartrenders, practicing under the supervision of Baghra and Botkin. And you had potential. You were the most powerful of all the heartrenders in the Little Palace...

There was only one 'problem' with you.

You didn't kill. Nor control your powers as you should.

You were supposed to be a healer. This is what you always wanted as soon as your Grishas powers as Corporalki manifested. But due to fate and the fact that there was a greater demand for heartenders in the Second Army than for healers, you became someone you did not want to be. You were supposed to take lives, not heal or save them, and you never really came to terms with that.

Not that anyone asked for your opinion. Certainly not Baghra, although she was one of the few who noticed that the problem with mastering your powers was in your head and not due to lack of control or powerlessness. Which didn't mean she didn't give you a hard time at every training session you had. You would rather have Botkin's training than spend your time in that's hag's hut.

That's why you laughed at Fedyor when he told you that he chose you as a replacement for Ivan (who was unexpectedly sent on another mission) as an additional heartrender for their secret mission in Fjerda.

"Very funny. Be careful, you start to adopt Ivan's sense of humor." you say, walking with him towards your rooms after sparring together. However, you start to get a little worried when he doesn't respond to your taunt. "Saints, Fedyor, it was a joke, right?"

"You have to go on your first mission someday. Besides, it will be an easy and simple task. We'll do some spying and go home. A few weeks and you'll be back in the Little Palace, and I promise I'll watch over you."

"Have you lost your mind?! I will get stressed, reveal my powers, and the Fjerdans will skin us faster than you can eat sweets from the palace kitchen." you lament, imagining all the worst-case scenarios.

"Nothing will happen. Besides, general is coming too. With him, no Fjerdans or Drüskells will attack us." you freeze at his words, realising how much worse your situation suddenly is with this one statement.

"What?!" you ask, but Fedyor has already disappeared into his and Ivan's room.

You start to get even more nervous. Since you had relatively completed the most important parts of your training, you were often at either Fedyor's or Ivan's side, 'improving' your skills and getting used to your new role in Little Palace.

This also meant often being near General Kirigan's side. Who was dangerously becoming more and more curious about you (at least that was what Fedyor was telling you in great secrecy.)

And his unexpected interest in your abilities only grew when Ivan blurted out to him that Baghra was also training you to be a healer, not only a heartrender. You don't know if this little act of mercy by the old witch was to help you overcome the internal conflict inside you since you put on the red-black kefta of a heartrender or if it was another one of the woman's ways of ruining others' lives.

Anyway, one day you walked into Kirigan's war room behind Ivan and the Black General's dark eyes, and instead of being glued to the maps and reports in front of him as usual, they were focused only on you. A shiver ran through you as you felt his piercing gaze on you. He seemed to be assessing your capabilities based on the rumours that Ivan and his men had been feeding him. You knew that he was judging how useful you could be to him. You held his gaze for a moment before looking down at the maps on the table, hiding slightly behind Ivan as he began to give him the most important information from the camp closest to the fold.

Since then, you've been seeing him more and more. Be it on your way back from Baghra's hut to the palace, in the library, or even late at night in the gardens or other parts of the Little Palace when you never expect him to appear.

He was always polite and nice. He spoke to you in such a gentle and calm tone, so different from the way he spoke to other Grishas, that it took you a moment to adjust to the soft side he was giving you. You didn't expect that the Darkling would ever be understanding of your insecure, shy nature or try to help you control your powers and come to terms with them by giving you small advice and even giving you accessories from Materialki, which allowed you to feel more confident while using your little science and controlling others hearts, bodies, and minds.

But that didn't matter anymore. Any sympathy or hope he had for you and your powers would end in the coming days when he saw that you were actually a nobody and were only wasting your power, which someone else could better use than you.

You might as well start preparing to be sent across the fold to Western Ravka and certain death at the hands of the volcras.

With trembling hands, you tied your small bag to the saddle of your horse. Fedyor, Zoya, Inferni, and Tidemaker, whose names you didn't know, were also preparing their horses to leave.

You were about to leave the Little Palace in a few minutes. The only person missing was General Kirigan.

Which made you very happy. You had trouble tying that damned bundle so it wouldn't fly off your horse's back. You weren't going to ask anyone for help and show how weak and hopeless you were in the group from the very beginning. You won't be defeated by something like this. If you were going to embarrass yourself, at least in a fight… or at least not before you set out.

But as always, you must have been unlucky.

"What are you doing here?" the general's question didn't make you the only one to freeze. The rest of your companions also stopped what they were doing and now looked at you with interest while you were trying to calm down your beating heart and respond to the Darkling. You turn to him and hold your little bundle of belongings that you failed to tie to your horse behind your back, so he can't see it.

"Fedyor thought I would be suitable for this task and appointed me as a second heartrender, sir." you reply without looking him in the eyes.

"He did?" he asks unemotionally, turning his gaze to your friend. You swallow nervously, waiting for his next words.

"Yes, General. Y/N is doing better and better. It's time to test her beyond the walls of the Little Palace, so she can use her power in a more beneficial way." Fedyor responds as your main "mentor". If you were brave enough to raise your head, you would surely give him a grateful look for the confidence with which he assured the general of your readiness.

"Well then." The general nods. You see him send a stern look at the rest of the Grishas, who are still staring. They immediately go back to their preparations.

You mentally curse as the horseboy leaves the general's horse next to yours. You try your best to ignore him as you continue to tie the damned bundle with trembling hands to your horse. And at the same time, you try to reject the uncertainty and doubts that began to grow even more intensely in you after the general's question.

"I don't see you being particularly excited about your first mission." the general's remark made you turn your head towards him. You shivered as soon as you realised his piercing gaze was directed straight at you. "Nervous?"

"A little." you admit, glad he's not a heartrender and can't hear your heart beating madly. You're about to have a heart attack here... if you don't first make a fool of yourself and cry from helplessness in front of the general. You were so pathetic...

You are brought out of your dark thoughts by the sudden presence of someone behind you. The general's warm, large hands gently take your bundle with your things from your hands and tie it to the horse's side. And if you didn't know better, you'd think he was extending the moment on purpose, just to keep you pressed against his chest, embraced by his arms, a little longer.

"You don't have to." he whispers, responding to your earlier words, and pulls away from you as if nothing had happened. He went to finish his preparations for the road himself, leaving you with the feeling of his warm breath on the back of your neck.

You get goosebumps and feel your cheeks heat up. Your hands tingle in the place where the general's hands were on them a moment ago. And your traitorous mind imagines what it would be like to feel his touch entirely somewhere else.

You shake your head and get on your horse, praying to the saints to help you survive this journey with dignity. Or at least that you'll come back alive. After all, you should keep your expectations low.

Surprisingly, you managed to survive the first week without any relative disasters. It was more than you could expect from yourself. Things may not have gone as you expected, but at least you all managed to ride safely through Ravka to the border with Fjerdans.

But every day you got closer to the border, your fear grew more and more.

You set up camp in the forest, each following your established routine. The General and Fedyor went out scouting, exploring the surrounding areas, when the rest of you were setting up a small camp and trying to hide it from human eyes as much as you could.

You were feeding and watering the horses when you suddenly heard a heartbeat next to you. You didn't even try to explain to yourself how you knew or when exactly you started to recognise General Kirigan's heartbeat. It just happened over time. And you didn't have the courage to admit to yourself that it meant something more.

The general took one apple and gave it to his black stallion, tenderly stroking its muzzle. You couldn't hide your small smile at how gentle he was with his horse (whose name was, ironically, Nightfall).

The black bastard even had his mane braided by him. Not that you watched closely as his hands braided it for the whole 6 minutes before Fedyor noticed and started teasing you about how your heart would go into failure from pumping blood so fast. You had never considered being a horse, but in that moment...

"Anything funny, Captain?" he asks, and if you hadn't learned over the course of this week the difference in the tone of his voice when he was teasing, you would probably have died of fear there.

"Nothing, General." you reply with a smirk, laughing in your head at your own ridiculousness and the stupid attraction you had for him. "How long do we have to be in Fjerda?"

"Until we get what we came here for. But I think it will take us two weeks at most. The Little Palace can't stay unattended for long."

You nod, partially satisfied with his answer. But you can't shake that unsettling feeling that something bad will definitely happen by then. Either you ruin the entire mission or you die miserably at Fjerdans' hands, revealing your powers in enemy territory.

"What's wrong?" His voice breaks you out of your thoughts better than the hand he suddenly wraps around yours. After thinking about it for a while, his touch shouldn't be that familiar to you.

"Nothing, General. I was lost in thought." you lie, trying to hide your insecurities and fear by looking down at your hands because you know he can read people like an open book.

"Don't insult my intelligence. I won't be convinced by such a flimsy excuse, and you definitely have better, more persuading answers." he takes a step towards you and gently grabs your chin, forcing you to look into his piercing, dark brown eyes. "What's the matter?"

"I..." you stutter as you get lost in his eyes, which are studying you so intently, as if the answer to his questions were written in your eyes.

And for a moment, you want to tell him.

You want to say that you are afraid of your powers and that you don't know if you will be able to control them when you are in a critical situation and help others. That you don't know if you'll ever get used to the role you've been thrust into. That you don't belong, and even his soothing presence isn't worth the stress, anxiety, and uncertainty you're going through every day. That you want to be someone completely different, but you know that you can't be a brat and throw away an opportunity that thousands of Grishas in your place would gratefully accept.

But you can't show him that you're broken...

"Y/N. Talk to me." he says firmly.Worry and concern are obviously written on his face, and it irritates you that you are unaware of what's causing it. That you don't know why he even cares to notice, let alone ask you what's bothering you.

"It's nothing serious. You shouldn't worry about me. I'm perfectly fine, sir." you say it emotionlessly and move away from him. You turn your back at him and start to comb your horse's mane.

But he doesn't give up. He places a hand on your shoulder and holds it in a tight grip, turning you back to face him.

"Something's clearly bothering you. You're going to tell me this now and here. This is no longer a question, Captain." if possible, his eyes will become even darker. But he's not the only one who's starting to get mad. Unlike him, you can't keep your emotions bottled up inside you so well.

"Why do you even care?! I'm just a captain, another one of your heartrenders; you shouldn't care about me at all!" you shout at him, shrugging his hand off your shoulder. Ivan would have a heart attack if he saw you talk with the general.

But Kirigan also seems to forget that you should be more respectful towards him... or maybe he's relieved that you're not as afraid of him as everyone else, and this new revelation is refreshing for him.

"It's not up to you to judge what I should care about. Even a blind person could see that you've been behaving strangely for a week and that something is tormenting you. Your hands tremble more often, you are more silent and paler, you eat less, your eyes no longer shine like they used to when Fedyor teases you, dark circles start to appear under your eyes, and every night I hear you rolling over next to me on your sleeping place. So you are going to tell me now what's wrong, so I can fix it."

His long speech leaves you stunned. You didn't realise that he noticed things like that or that he watched you closely enough to find a difference in your behavior. And what bothered you most was the reason why the Black General knew you so well.

And you probably would have crumbled in pieces there in front of him and poured out all your insecurities and fears on him if the sudden crunch of branches hadn't caught your attention.

You didn't even have time to blink before you were behind the general. He holds your arm with one hand, making sure you stay behind him so he can shield you from any danger. And in the back of your mind, despite how enchanted you were by his closeness, the thought occurs that you should be the one protecting him...

Then he threw his dagger in the direction the sound came from. After a while, a painful groan echoed through the clearing.

"Fedyor?!" you ask and run out from behind the general when you recognise your friend's voice. You disappear behind the trees, finding the heartrender, who was wearing a regular cloak (you had to drop your keftas since you were getting closer to Fjerdans), leaning against a tree and holding his arm where the dagger was embedded. "What the hell?! You scared us!"

"Well, you're not the one with the dagger stuck in you. It was starting to get dark; the others sent me to get you, since we are practically on Fjerdans' territory."

You nod and help him sit on the ground. After a while, the general appears behind you. You see him blush awkwardly, realising who his dagger hit.

"My apologies, Fedyor. You shouldn't have sneaked up on us like that, though."

You take the opportunity to have your back turned to him and roll your eyes at him. While Fedyor is busy answering him, you quickly take the dagger out of him. He hisses in pain and gives you an offended look.

"What? Would you rather I count to three?" you ask sarcastically, pulling back his coat and lifting up his shirt to place your hands on his wound. Blood sticks to your fingers, staining the sleeves of your shirt.

"The last time you did that, you took the arrow out of me before you could count to two." he grumbles as you begin to heal him, the wound tingling unpleasantly as it closes up.

"I don't remember you complaining when I let you eat my chocolate cookies later. At least I wasn't the first to get hurt; you should be proud of me as my mentor." you don't miss the general's quiet chuckle behind you as you taunt with your friend.

"Come on, veteran." he pats Fedyor on his health shoulder. "Let's get back to camp before they send a whole search party after us, shall we?" he asks, his dark irises trained on you, watching as you let go of Fedyor's arm, which is fully healed now.

The general extends his hand towards you and helps you up. He doesn't shy away from grabbing your bloody hand; he holds it even tighter, making sure it doesn't slip away from his grip. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Fedyor give you a significant look. You roll your eyes at him.

"Here." the general says, and he hands you his black handkerchief to wipe the blood from you. But before you can take it from him, he catches your hands in his and wipes the red liquid from your hands himself. "Allow me." he whispers, looking into your eyes. Blushing, you realise that Fedyor is long gone from sight, leaving the two of you alone once again.

"Thank you." you clear your throat, feeling his fingers gently wipe the blood from your hands. And you feel ashamed, admitting to yourself that this simple touch makes you shiver.

"You should change that shirt when we come back."

You look at your shirt and see that it's stained with Fedyor's blood. You wrinkled your nose, knowing this was your last shirt. You will have to stay in it until you reach a village where you can buy a new one.

"I'll be fine," you say, trying to change the subject. You don't want to seem even weaker than you already are in his eyes.

The general frowns but says nothing more as you return to camp. And if he thought you didn't notice that he was still holding your hand and keeping you close to him as he walked lightly in front of you, he was sorely mistaken. You were glad that no one was around to hear your heartbeat and that his fingers avoided the place on your wrist where he could feel your racing pulse.

If anyone else notices that there is blood on your shirt, they don't comment on it. You go through your evening chores, and finally, after hours of driving and being on your feet, you lie down.

You put your small travel bag under your head and are about to go to sleep when suddenly you hear the rustle of fabric falling next to you.

You open your eyes and stare in surprise at the black shirt that is clearly an intruder. A shiver runs through you as you feel someone's burning gaze on you. You look up and see the general sitting a few steps away from you, watching you carefully.

If the delicate, skin-friendly material or colour of the clothes didn't give you a clue as to who they might belong to, then the look in those hypnotising dark eyes that didn't leave you until you took the clothes in your hands was an eloquent suggestion of the shirt's owner.

And after the intoxicating smell that engulfed you as you changed in a secluded place, you were even more overwhelmed by this unexpected gesture, knowing full well that you shouldn't recognise his scent that easily. Or wanting it to stay with you for a long time.

You walk back to camp and ignore the smirk Fedyor gives you as he stands guard by the fire. You lie down in your place and pull the blanket tighter over you, wrapped in a cocoon, with the general's scent wafting around you.

You shiver, feeling the chill of the night despite it. You roll the oversized sleeves of the Kirigan's shirt around your hands, limiting the air from reaching your skin. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the others move closer to each other, taking advantage of the warmth of each other's bodies.

You sigh, realising that it will be a few hours before you can do the same to Fedyor once he stands off his watch. Now you had to endure the cold that was starting to sting your cheeks and slowly seep into your uncovered skin.

You roll from side to side a few times, trying to find the best position to limit your heat loss, until you are stopped by strong arms that suddenly wrap around your stomach and press you against the hard and warm wall. You blush as you realise from the pounding heartbeat behind you that you're pressing against SOMEONE'S chest.

"It's a cold night." he whispers, his warm breath on the back of your neck making you shiver. "Do you mind, milaya?"

You shake your head slowly. You knew that right now you would do anything what he would ask of you. And you were both terrified and excited about that damn exhilarating closeness with him as he was sharing his warmth with you.

"Thank you, general." you whisper into the night, afraid to turn and look at his face lit only by the flames of the fire and the light of the stars, because you know that if you did, you would be lost for good.

You close your eyes, trying to protect yourself a little from your obvious feelings for him—the man you will never truly have.

"Call me Aleksander." he whispers in your ear, making you shiver. He takes this as a sign that you're cold and ends up pressing you closer to him, so that you feel every inch of his body touching you.

He could have anyone. And you knew both yourself and his habits too well to pull the wool over your eyes that you could ever be someone more to him... but that didn't mean you didn't enjoy this momentary attention he was giving you.

You relax and lean into him more as he buries his nose in your hair and falls asleep. His rhythmic heartbeat and breathing, his scent that immediately makes you feel safe and protected, and the warmth that floats around the two of you curled up against each other, lull you to sleep.

After all, it was a cold night. And General, contrary to all the rumours you've heard, turned out to be very warm... at least when he held you protectively close to his chest.

Fedyor watches the two of you with a mischievous smirk, knowing full well that he'll be teasing you with this the next day. He already knew what he would write to Genya and Ivan in his next letters.

Your informant did a good job. He perfectly determined the location of the hidden cellar in the Fjerdans' forest, where their soldiers' base was.

It took you several days to prepare. You were supposed to break in, steal the necessary plans and reports, and get out of there before anyone noticed you. Of course, everything went to hell as fast as it was possible.

At one point, you scattered, each trying to find a way out on your own, when one of the soldiers detected Inferni, who was with you and was using his powers to warm himself up.

You didn't know what happened to him in the end. Or with Aleksander, the rest of the group.

You ran forward, towards the exit you remembered, avoiding all heartbeats along the way.

You're walking down corridor after corridor, corner after corner, when suddenly someone grabs your elbow and pulls you towards him, keeping a hand over your mouth to block out any sound from you. You struggle for a moment until you hear a quiet whisper that haunts you both at night and in your dreams:

"It's me, milaya." you freeze in place at the sound of his soothing whisper in your ear. You turn around, wanting to make sure your mind isn't playing any tricks on you, and sigh in relief when you see Aleksander's concerned face in front of you.

"Where's the rest?" you ask, swallowing, trying to calm yourself down and maintain an appearance of composure in front of him. Even though your heart was now beating like crazy with fear.

"Fedyor and Zoya are outside. I'm not sure about the others." he says, taking your elbow and pushing you to the side of the hall so that you're more shielded from anyone's view. You frown, processing his words while he looks around to see if you can leave your hiding place and continue on your way to the exit.

"You came back for me?" you ask, trying to catch his gaze to read something in his impenetrable eyes.

You see the gears stop in his head, all thoughts of your escape and safety being forgotten as he stares at you, speechless.

You've never seen him like this. No words, no wise comment or answer. He just stood there and stared at you. A blush slowly took over his cheeks, and after hearing his heartbeat quicken, you had never been happier that he had technically forced you to qualify as a heartrender.

"Aleksander?" you whisper questioningly, waiting for any word from him that will either confirm your suspicions and make your wildest dreams come true or make him break your heart more than the most powerful heartrender could ever do.

You hold your breath when, after a moment of internal struggle that is going on inside him for some reason, he takes a step towards you and confidently cups your cheek with his hand.

"Y/N... I... For a very long time... I haven't met someone like you. I've never wanted to meet again. I've lost so many... But you... you make me question everything I promised myself a long time ago."

You see pain and longing in his eyes. You have no idea what he's been through or why he feels the way he does now, but you are sure of one thing. And you are ready to promise him this one thing, regardless of any consequences.

"You won't lose me." you whisper, looking into his teary eyes. He leans forward and rests his forehead against yours, closing his eyes and inhaling your scent. You shiver as your noses touch, brushing gently.

You open your eyes only to see Fjerdan behind him, pointing a gun at you two. You are both without your keftas, but you know that the Fjerdans know how the Darkling looks like and can recognise him.

You act automatically. You push Aleksander away and link your arms, stopping the man's heart in front of you before he can even put his finger on the trigger of his gun. The body falls to the ground with a thud, and a deafening, terrifying silence reigns in the corridor. The smell of blood irritates your nostrils.

You lower your hands shakily, only to realise that you've done more than stop his heart. The weight of the organ that ripped from Fjerdan's chest and flew straight into your hand weighs on you more than your growing guilt. Your heart falls out of your hands and onto the floor, and you still feel the blood staining your fingers.

You killed someone. You actually killed someone...

The cold permeates your body. You shiver uncontrollably as tears fill your eyes, and you stare at the dead body in shock until Aleksander stands in front of you. He cups your cheeks and pulls you closer to him, making you rest your head on his chest.

"Shhh... It's fine, milaya. We are safe, you saved us both." he whispers into your ear, hugging you even tighter as he presses you against his chest with one arm, and his other hand strokes your hair to calm you down.

"I… killed… I…" you can't stand it. You fall apart completely in his warm embrace, his coat perfectly soaking up both the blood you shed for him and the tears flowing from your eyes that you simply can't stop anymore.

The realisation comes to him with a delay, and you feel him freeze when he hears your words. He is wise. You know that he realises that this was your first... and that you never wanted to do this, and that this was what you feared most when going on this mission with them.

If possible, you sob and tremble even more, aware that soon his soothing embrace will disappear, that he will throw you out of his inner circle, and that you can start preparing to be sent out across the fold and to West Ravka since you have proven to be so useless to him.

But, much to your surprise, he didn't pull away. He didn't make any malicious remarks, and he didn't threaten to throw you out of the Second Army, as he often did in the worst-case scenarios your head could imagine.

Instead, he pulls you as close to him as possible and places a tender kiss on your forehead. You tremble as his hands cup your cheeks and gently brush away your tears before he presses his soft lips there.

"Shhh… I have you, lapushka." he whispers while kissing off your tears. "You did a good thing. He didn't deserve to live, moya milaya. He would have hurt us if you hadn't reacted first. And I gave you my word; this is the last time you have to do something like this." he says, pressing his lips to your tample in a promise.

He tangles his hand in your hair and presses your head against his shoulder. You bury your head between his neck and shoulder as he holds you tightly against him and strokes your back while cradling you.

You cry into him until you run out of tears. He is with you until the very end, silently comforting you with a warm hug and a gentle touch of his lips on various parts of your face.

He places one last kiss on your forehead and cups your cheek in his hand, lovingly wiping the tears from your cheek with his thumb. You instinctively lean into his touch and stand as if hypnotised, staring into his dark irises that look at you with so much affection and care like no one has ever done before.

You don't know who leans in first, you or him, or who is the one who kissed the other first. All you can feel, all you can think about, and all your world is limited to now is him and his soft lips caressing yours as gently as if you were the most fragile thing in the world. As if he was afraid that in any moment you would disappear.

At some point, his kisses became more intense. He tangles his hand in your hair and pins you to the wall, his hand making sure you don't hit your head against the stone wall as he doesn't let your lips leave his for the slightest moment.

He breaks the kiss and pulls away to look at you. You feel your cheeks turn bright red and your lips swollen from his kiss. You clear your throat and shyly look away from him as he watches you intensively.

"We… we should go… the rest are probably waiting for us…" you stutter. He lets out a soft laugh and leans in to steal another quick kiss from you.

"As you wish, milaya. This way." he says, and he grabs your hand, pulling you close to him. His shadows surround the two of you as he wraps his arm protectively around your waist and leads you outside.

When you walk with him with your hands together, you feel complete. Calm. And glancing at your general as he removes any Fjerdans from your path and surrounds the two of you in a protective shield of his shadows, you know that if you went back in time, you would do everything exactly the same.

You wouldn't change anything if it meant you would ultimately end up in the arms of the Dark General. He was worth evereything... maybe even losing your innocence too. Though something told you that he liked taking care of his little corporalki.

253 notes · View notes

xfancyuu · 1 year

Text

~ hold your breath, love dive. [aemond targaryen]

this is my first fanfic!!! this fic is also a repost, originally posted on 16th october 2022 on a different blog however i want all my work to be on this blog. reader is afab with she/her pronouns and has no appearance indicators. this fic has also been reformatted and edited, reposted on 7th april 2023.

premise: reader meets vhagar (my queen) [2,945 words]

The betrothal between houses Targaryen and Bolton was a choice not many had seen coming. You especially, you had gone from a girl who was content with the fact your father would marry you off to some Lord, and you'd live a life, you weren't sure if it had been a happy one, but it would have certainly been a life. You knew Aemond Targaryen was unpredictable, unstable even. He chose to claim a dragon as a pre-teen, stable wasn't something you'd use to describe him. He was chaos personified, like waves in the sea, uncontrollable, and you weren't sure what your father thought he was getting out of the arrangement. (You knew what he was getting out of the arrangement: power and selling off his only daughter was clearly the only way he'd receive such notoriety.)

The arrangement wasn't as horrific as you originally thought it would be, Aemond had seemed pleasant company though you were always in public, always chaperoned, so the man could not spend time truly alone with you, while your father wanted to marry you did not have your own opinions or goals in life, he did not trust the man you were to marry fully. Nor did you. You knew the tales of the women his brother ruined the reputations of, while his dutiful wife had to put up with his antics. You never knew how a man behaved behind closed doors, your brothers were a prime example of this for you. A prince was just a man after all and men were much different to the ladies you had spent time around. Kings Landing was entirely different in general, the styles, the hair, the people even, it was far too busy and put you on edge far too much.

They were dragons, both in sigil and temperament, you had thought. Each member of the family was equally fiery and hard to read, comparing them to the creatures which set them apart so vastly was a correct comparison in your opinion. Being around them made you feel powerful, that nobody could cross you, but you knew much better that politics can change in an instant — Rhaenyra and Rhaenys were proof of that. It scared you, being in the dragons pit.

Your time is spent with Helaena, she is a few years older than you though you think she is wise beyond her years, often telling you about the things she dreams about and often times speaks in riddles though you find her company more entertaining than most people. She understands you on a level which others do not, and you think in another timeline you would not be marrying her brother and she would not be married to her own husband, you would still be friends or perhaps more.

She doesn't want you today though, she claims she's ill with a sickness which is contagious — you'd get sick to spend time with her, you consider her your only true friend in this place, though Helaena being the kind sweet soul she is would never allow you to give yourself a sickness on her behalf. Suddenly you're alone, the day grows boring, the library is unappealing, you can only walk around a garden — no matter the size of it, so many times without growing bored. Needlepoint is tedious, and you think you could not cope if your life was to be like this once you were married. The garden however is where you find him, alone. It's the first time you've spent time together alone, and your palms feel sticky, and your heart is beating out of your chest. You don't know how you'll survive within a marriage when you cannot speak to the man without wanting to run away due to shyness.

"You avoid me far too much," he's the first to speak, you doubt words could process from your brain to your mouth to do so, "Do I scare you that much?"

You do not want to answer at first — perhaps he's talking about his presence or rather the scars he could not help, but you're strong, you're from the North and Northern girls aren't typically timid nor shy, "Why would I do that my Prince?" you can see how it would consider it mocking, but the playful tone in your voice indicates your intent. "Am I too fast for you to catch?"

You doubt you've thrown him off guard, though maybe that's why he had chosen you, "Do you think you are fast enough to outrun a dragon?" he asks.

"I do not know, you see I've never met a dragon nor seen one to know how fast they can be... though I have no doubt I can outrun one" you're being cocky, or perhaps you're flirting, you do not know which one would be better though you seem to amuse the price in question.

"Would you like to see one?" you don't know if it's a euphemism or if he's being serious, perhaps he does have a sense of humour after all.

"Hmm... I'm not too sure they would take kindly to those who aren't of Valyrian blood, what if one tries to eat me... I've heard the tales of the dragon who resides on Dragonstone who eats its own kind and humans alike." you're teasing him, who wouldn't want to see a dragon? You'd encounter them eventually, you surmised, it was hard to live in a family with such beasts without doing so.

"You know of the Cannibal?" his interest had piqued at that, your time with his sister had clearly come with advantages, learning more about the Targaryen family, the dragons owned (and not) by his family had interested him, next you'd surprise him by speaking Valyrian.

"Only what her grace, your sister, had told me about it, that apparently the dragon is older than Balerion the black dread — though it seems unrealistic and hearsay, your father rode him once did he not? Balerion I mean, —" your sentence was cut short by the prince, who was seemingly not paying attention to you, it was awkward for a few seconds before he excused himself.

Aemond had seemingly looked off to the side, as if being summoned though you didn't pay it much mind, the two of you were having an enjoyable conversation (well in your personal opinion, the prince may have just been conversing due to the fact his family didn't want the arrangement to sour due to his or your behaviours). Though, he had pulled away at seemingly the last second, muttering an apology and leaving you in the garden alone.

As fast as he'd disturbed your peace, he disappears almost as abruptly, almost making you wonder if you'd spoken out of turn and offended him somehow. And you could not help but notice how much lonelier you had become without his presence.

Some days had passed and the interaction with Aemond had lived within your head, when you weren't needed or doing something you'd thought back to the conversation, he was a seemingly lovely match and paid attention to you. Not that you could say the same for your parents, they hadn't known where you were or what you were doing most of the time, they only lectured you into behaving around the royal family, ladies do not laugh loudly, ladies do not spend more time daydreaming than needlepoint and ladies certainly do not frolic around the gardens unchaperoned. Helaena hadn't miraculously recovered, which meant your family continued to lecture you. Perhaps they were more irritated about the fact you weren't strengthening the bond of both families to ensure the marriage, as your mother had kindly put it. You were aware your family wanted more power, but the possibility of you getting sick while they were heightening their station could not have occurred to them.

Your days continued to be as boring as ever without Helaena's company you were beyond restless, your parents had told you to behave far too many times, so much you could recite their speeches. Though it didn't stop you from wandering alone — again. You wouldn't be shocked if it got back to them — again. However, just as the last time you were alone, Aemond Targaryen once again approaches you. Cockily as ever, though being a Prince of the Seven Kingdoms and having the largest dragon could perhaps have that effect on one's self-confidence.

"Lady Bolton, you are the exact person I was looking for," he once again spoke, he often left you speechless, from his undeniable beauty to the confidence he exuded — you had found out he wasn't always this way, gaining Vhagar had changed him, and you surmised it was most likely for the better. "If you can recall we spoke about dragons and I have reconsidered the terms of our arrangement."

This made your blood go cold, you were certain you had not offended the Prince, though with the way he'd looked at you during meal times you could see how speaking about the dragons which were an extension of his family could offend him. "Have you spoken to my father about this?" He wouldn't be happy, you knew him well enough to know that.

"You misunderstand me, my Lady," you were sure your heart would have stopped if it was not for the words he spoke, "I cannot marry you without being certain."

It was not a good conversation to be had, and you were almost panicking, and you were certain you saw a taunting glint within his eye, "I can assure you, our union would be fruitful, and you would be happy." You've been taught what it takes to be a wife from your mother, but she had never explained what it truly entailed, your words feel rehearsed and panicked and came out of your mouth far too fast.

"I cannot be happy without being certain that you could handle this life," you're not sure what he's talking about, you've handled court well, made friends, were well liked by most people, and before your mind drifted somewhere else to think of every single misdeed you'd done, he spoke again, "The dragons are loyal, they want to protect their riders, Vhagar especially so," there was something in his tone which told you, you were missing the context of this statement, "I would like you to meet her, hopefully she won't harm you."

You weren't sure what to think, on one hand seeing the marvellous and beautiful beast that she was, was a once in a lifetime opportunity, on the other hand you could be hurt, or worse. It was seemingly a deal breaker to Aemond, if you chose to say no he could easily break off the engagement without remorse, he's a man, they never face the repercussions of their own actions.

"When do you wish to plan this meeting?" you asked, you didn't fear much, and if a dragon harms you, burns you or eats you, you supposed there were worse, less dignified ways to have your life ended.

"I was heading there now and while you are unoccupied I had asked your father's permission," he can't say no to a prince, out of fear of offending, you knew that much.

"With the way some at court speak of you Aemond, I'm surprised you asked for permission," the playful tone in your voice was evident that you truly did not believe court gossip. "How could I ever say no to meeting the eldest dragon known to man? If she eats me it would be a happy day for me."

He finds you amusing, you can tell, he's poker-faced, but you can always tell by the subtle way his body moved closer to yours, "I hope she chooses not to, it would be a sad day. I'm afraid I would not know what to say to your father about the occasion, his only daughter, eaten by a dragon, how would he recover?"

"You don't know my father like I do, he'd spin some tale that I was courageous and chose to fight a dragon and paid for it with my life." You're divulging far too much about your personal family life now, you're giving him too much insight and unnecessary information which could be used against you in a moment's notice. "However, I am not going to let a dragon eat me today, my outfit simply will not allow it."

The journey to the largest dragon currently roaming freely was not as daunting as you'd originally thought, the nervousness you were feeling in your stomach hadn't subsided. Though, you could almost feel the anticipation radiating off of Aemond. Perhaps he wanted a show, perhaps he wanted to see how you'd react to such a magnificent creature, or perhaps he wanted to see Vhagar burn you alive.

She was there, laying and looking lethargic, or maybe she was simply not wanting to live life any more, she was beyond the size you had imagined, though something about her looked gentle. She hadn't harmed Aemond when she was a child and this made you feel safer, along with her rider being there, maybe he'd calm her with his presence. "Are you bonded to her?"

"In what way?" Aemond asks, keeping you behind him while he spoke in Valyrian — words you couldn't understand but if you were to have children in the future you should take note to learn.

"Can you feel what she feels, can she always feel your presence? Does she know when you're in trouble?" The questions come from your mouth before you can stop them, "You're speaking to her right now, are you not? Are you telling her to be on her best behaviour?"

"Did you not know we're always on our best behaviour." His response had made you laugh, you couldn't help it, if it had came from any other person you would have believed it. "Do I amuse you?"

"Yes very much so," Vhagar is stirring now, being so big she looks heavy to even move her head properly, you'd fear her moving her body without injuring anybody within the surrounding area. "It's a good sign she hasn't eaten me yet, isn't it."

"Don't be fooled by her, she's cunning, but she favours the brave." he spoke.

"Would she consider me brave if I were to touch her?" You ask, already moving forward however Aemond hadn't chose to stop you, perhaps he thought you too foolish for your own good.

"Isn't that what we're here for? You're to meet her and she chooses if we marry." Now you knew the motive. There was so much more than what met the eye with Aemond and you'd do well to remember that.

Taking slow and steady steps towards Vhagar was the easy part, she had emitted heat, much like the dogs your father chose to keep around in the Dreadfort. It was hard to stay away from her, she was utterly captivating, and it did not stop you from placing a hand on her. You don't doubt that you looked like an ant to her, tiny and easy to destroy with one singular movement. However, she stayed in place, letting out what sounded like a sigh. It was a good sign for you to continue touching her, it's not at all what you had expected her to feel like, she had felt warm and inviting despite her intimidating appearance. She was like her rider in more ways than he'd ever let the world know.

"You weren't serious about her eating you, were you?" Aemond asks, while you're completely mesmerised by how big and docile she was, your hand still holding the dragon's warm scales while Aemond's presence was felt closely behind you.

"Seeing her up close, I fear I misjudged her," and you goes unsaid. "She seems lonely and I wish she had more company, do you keep her company often? When you're not at court?"

"I suppose I too would be lonely if I lost Balerion and Meraxes." He confesses, "But she is well taken care of, I can assure you."

"There are tales of you claiming her, that you were a child and the only one brave enough to go near her," the stories are fabricated most of the time, "That you lost the eye for the dragon, was it worth it?" you hadn't approached the topic of his long gone eye, though you fear you may have offended him when he does not speak straight away.

"A dragon is a great price for something so small as losing an eye" he spoke though you can tell there's melancholy within his tone, you were so close now, incredibly so, never had you been so close to a man. "It does not frighten you does it?"

"You lost an eye for a dragon, why would that frighten me, my prince?" it's a question he can't answer because he's the one who's finally speechless. "Are you fulfilled in the answer you so desperately sought from this encounter?"

"I think I have all the answers I need," he had pulled you away from Vhagar ever so gently, it was the softest you had ever felt the man, "I shall tell your father we shall be married as soon or as late as you wish to do so."

"When we are married will you let me fly with you?" the answer was unspoken, he'd take you to the ends of beyond the wall if you so much as wished it. Perhaps the marriage was the perfect match despite being arranged, he'd found somebody as equally obsessed with dragons as he'd once been.

as stated before, this is a repost and not entirely a rewrite, just an edited version of mistakes i realised i made months ago. i hope y'all still enjoyed this. crossposted on ao3 under the name hedonism.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen imagine #hotd aemond #hotd imagine #hotd x reader #hotd fanfic #asoiaf x reader #asoiaf imagine #asoiaf fanfic

461 notes · View notes

the-music-maniac · 4 months

Text

Zoro has rapidly become my favourite character in One Piece and so I felt the need to write this after seeing one too many people misinterpret him as this alpha male type of dude purely because he's muscular and likes fighting. Don't do my boi like that, I actually think Zoro is a very good example of non toxic masculinity, and I will fight people over it. I've seen someone call Zoro a red flag. I will find you.

I've seen this happen quite often when it comes to characters with certain body types and defining traits, especially in shows with large followings like one piece, where people just tend to equate muscular + likes to fight + likes to drink to a certain archetype of personality without looking at the nuance? In reality, Zoro is a very likeable guy in my opinion (once you get over how terrifying he can be as an opponent).

Disclaimer: I haven't finished the entire show so feel free to write any rebuttals if you think I got anything wrong! Fandom debates can be quite fun.

I also mention Sanzo/Zosan very briefly so feel free to skip over that part if you're not into that ship.

The biggest thing I think people tend to forget is that Zoro is kind. And this one I don't understand how anyone can forget, because it's like an integral part of his character. Sure, his goal of becoming the greatest swordsman is not a path that's without bloodshed. He's not kind in an all encompassing, indiscriminate way, he's kind in a practical way, especially in the world he lives in with the type of life he leads. He doesn't have qualms about killing when necessary. But the motivation behind those actions are never cruel. He wants to be the greatest swordsman, but he's not amassing that skill because he wants power. He's doing it for love of that weapons style and for the childhood dream both Kuina and him had. Does he like fighting? Yeah, but I'm pretty certain it's purely for the competition of skill. And Zoro shows his kindness with how willing he is to help those who need it, in that he usually doesn't use his strength to take what he wants/hurt others but to protect. Even when he was a bounty hunter and earned his moniker of Demon of the East, he was just trying to survive. I'm not sure how people forget that he's a kind person when our initial introduction to Zoro was him agreeing to get tied to a post for a month without food or water to save a little girl and her mother. He's kind in the little ways as well, in that mundane everyday living type of manner, not just in the big, heroic "risk your life" type of way, which I think is important to acknowledge. He didn't have to tell that girl that her food was good. And Zoro is pretty damn good with children - we see that with Chopper, and we see that with that filler episode with Zoro babysitting and - I think there are some more examples but I can't recall them right now. That's a very big green flag in my opinion. The little gestures can matter as much as the big ones. As far as I'm concerned, those traits couldn't be further from the "alpha male" stereotype.

I've also seen people characterize Zoro as just a cool, quiet, man-of-few-words type of guy, and sure, I can see how he would give that impression if all you saw of him was random edits of when he gets serious but honestly, the man is pretty fucking sassy. He's also just - SUCH a 19 year old with all the antics he gets up to with the rest of the crew, and I'm aware he gets much more serious after the timeskip (I haven't gotten to that point yet in terms of watching but I don't care about spoilers so I know the reason behind it), but like. I don't think he lost his snark from some clips I've seen. Zoro is funny, and I think people ignore that too often for the cool guy type of characterization. Not that he isn't cool - Zoro has his moments but that's not all he is. The man gets lost running in a straight line???? He once almost got frozen in wax and decided his priority was to ensure he died in a cool pose. That type of willingness to be silly is not something you find in a stereotypical alpha male type of personality. Like, who are you kidding, he's lame af, unashamed of it, and it's fabulous.

Another thing, granted this is not a common opinion by any means, but on one instance I've seen someone act as if Zoro's some lady killer or some shit and I actually had to pause and stare at my screen in disbelief. Could I see women being attracted to Zoro? Yeah sure, I mean the one example I can think of right now is Hiyori (another example may or may not be me. But then again you knew that didn't you, considering this post is just one giant love letter to Zoro). But does Zoro purposely try to attract women? Uh no? I don't even think the man is straight. He's either aromantic/asexual (very ace of him to not give a shit about romance but leap up in two seconds upon hearing the word "sword") or just gay, cause he exhibits very little interest in romance, or very little indication that he finds women attractive. And I pinpointed attraction to women specifically just cause people tend to assume Zoro is heterosexual and have the audacity to get mad at you if you try to imply otherwise. Which to me is clearly heteronormativity speaking because where. Where is he straight, I don't see it. And sure is there a possibility he may be heterosexual and just unwilling to act on attraction because he has a different goal in life? Yeah sure, but you can't act like that's the only valid interpretation for him. But regardless, no matter what sexuality you headcanon him as, he's still very very far from "manly man with ladies swooning left and right into his muscular arms" type character. I mean if someone swooned into him I'm pretty sure he would catch them on principle without registering any romantic connotations whatsoever. (Note that these opinions do not stop me from being a Sanzo/Zosan shipper, but that's more because I find the concept entertaining. An argument could also be made that Zoro does pay the most attention to Sanji, even if it's to fight him). So yeah, another strike against the whole alpha male type of characterization. Zoro doesn't really give a shit about romance and even if he DID, I am convinced he still wouldn't treat a potential romantic partner as anything but an equal, doesn't matter if that s/o is a man, woman or non binary. And this segways into my next point.

Because Zoro has some very refreshing attitudes about gender, both his own and of other people. This doesn't just tie in with the sexuality/romantic partner thing, it ties into the willingness to be authentic/silly thing, and the "likes to compare skills through fighting" thing. I very much think that Zoro just doesn't really register gender roles much, or he does and he just doesn't care about it. And I'm aware this partially stems from a position of privilege he has as a guy - he doesn't need to care about gender roles and how people view him because he's a man. He wouldn't be short changed for anything if he doesn't notice. While the same luxury is not extended to individuals like Kuina and Tashigi, who were in a field of practice that looks down on them purely for being women. Having said that, Zoro literally just doesn't give a shit who he's dealing with, man, woman or any other gender. If you challenge him, he'll fight you. And the level of effort he gives that fight is usually dependent on ability and the situation. If you annoy him, he'll annoy you back. He has no qualms about snarking and yelling at Nami the same as he would with a male member of the crew. People in the past that have pointed out to him the difference in the way the rest of the world perceives men and women - like with Kuina and Tashigi for example - is met with confusion. And again, this is partially because Zoro has the privilege of not noticing, but honestly even if he did notice, I don't think his personal actions would change. And I find that refreshing. I love Sanji as a character, don't get me wrong, but his whole refuses to fight women schtick is something that annoys me (even if I do headcanon that it partially comes from a place of trauma). And moreover, Zoro gives me the impression of a person that doesn't give a shit if his own masculinity is "compromised", going by the stereotypical definition of the phrase. He does shit cause he feels like it, not cause it's the "manly" thing to do. Yeah, he happens to like drinking, working out - things that are considered traditionally masculine, but I get the sense that if he did have hobbies that were not traditionally masculine, he would just go ahead and do them regardless of what people think of him. His antics pre-timeskip wasn't exactly the epitome of manliness, it was silly and goofy and he has no qualms about it cause it was authentically him. And he wouldn't feel threatened if he were to do anything not in keeping with a "manly" image, even if he wouldn't do any of that of his own volition. Like the babysitting filler episode? The man was in a crop top that said "mama" on the front. I fully believe that if he lost a bet to Nami and had to wear a dress or some other traditionally feminine piece of clothing, or if for some convoluted reason Luffy ordered him to put on a disguise like that for some mission or whatever, Zoro wouldn't give a shit as long as it was comfortable and didn't obstruct his ability to fight. If someone made fun of him for it, he would probably bite back depending on how insulting the person is trying to be, cause not caring about wearing non masculine clothing doesn't mean he would be okay with someone looking down on him, but he wouldn't automatically equate the two to each other without that interference, and that association wouldn't be permanent. Would he choose to wear a dress on his own? Probably not. He does still have clothing preferences and they tend to be simple, practical and comfortable, and with certain clothing pieces, in keeping with his culture. Would he fly into an insecure rage about not being a girl? I don't think so. And that's so far in attitude from the whole alpha male thing that it's not even funny. The whole concept of an identity centered around being an alpha male reeks of insecurity, and Zoro is very secure in who he is as a person.

And this is also why I think Zoro would act differently in a romance than how "alpha males" would act, even if it's with a woman (I still don't think Zoro is straight btw, but just for conjecture). For one he respects people based on ability and if not that, determination and heart, so right off the bat he's not gonna treat his partner as lesser than him by virtue of being a woman. And I've noticed that a lot of heterosexual couples (not all, mind you, but a lot) seem to care more about dating a gender role than dating an actual person. By that, I mean individuals who pride themselves on being a model of masculinity however they define it - usually look for a partner to compliment them in that regard. I find this counterproductive, because your partner is not meant to be a tool/accessory to maintain your image, and also because being the perfect man or woman is too narrow of a definition, and it doesn't exactly leave you a lot of room to live comfortably as a human - with all your fallible moments that don't fit comfortably in little boxes. It's impractical and illogical. If you value maintaining the status quo and assigning responsibilities and roles based on arbitrary rules assigned by society instead of ability, if you care about that more than you care about helping your partner and maintaining a functional life, I don't think y'all are gonna last long. That's just my two cents. But for the reasons listed before, Zoro barely even registers gender roles, and he's a pretty "get shit done" type of person. He's not gonna give a shit. He'll do what he's able to do for the relationship, and he wouldn't feel insecure when his partner does the same, even if it doesn't fit into traditional roles. And considering Zoro's love of sparring/fighting I don't think he would get with a partner that isn't able to give him a run for his money anyways. Another thing that sets him apart from the alpha male stereotype, those guys are terrified of anyone challenging them for their position of "authority", however dubious that position is (and however stupid it is to care about notions of dominance for a relationship. Have y'all seen those interview videos with guys who actually believe that? "I can't date a girl that bench presses more than me cause that means she becomes the dominant figure in the relationship" excuse me what.)

This post is getting overly long so I'm going to end it there. Thanks for reading!

#zoro my beloved #roronoa zoro #one piece #sanzo #zosan #zoro x sanji #but only brief mentions of it #mischaracterization and my annoyance with it

138 notes · View notes