#feeling always surrounded by chains that prevent her from living the life she really wants.. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

spacewives-in-spacetime · 1 year

Text

blood of bronze, tears of gold

blood of bronze, tears of gold (1675 words) by Hell_in_High_Heels Chapters: 1/2 Fandom: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005), Doctor Who & Related Fandoms Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: The Doctor/River Song, Eleventh Doctor/River Song, Tenth Doctor/River Song, Twelfth Doctor/River Song, Thirteenth Doctor/River Song Characters: The Doctor (Doctor Who), River Song, (mentioned), Thirteenth Doctor, Twelfth Doctor, Eleventh Doctor, Tenth Doctor (Doctor Who) Additional Tags: Episode Fix-It: s04e08 Silence in the Library, could be, Hurt, Maybe - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, maybe… Summary: The Doctor drowned themself in a pool of ideas, each one surrounding the magnificent River Song. The beautiful woman who waltzed into her life and destroyed their very way of thinking.

he Doctor drowned themself in a pool of ideas, each one surrounding the magnificent River Song. The beautiful woman who waltzed into her life and destroyed their very way of thinking. The wonderful person who knocked him out cold, chaining him to a pipe to sacrifice herself. The amazing wife who protected them to her last breath. That very same person was stripped away from him, against their pleads and begs. Darillium was still fresh in her mind, with it all the last memories of his - now dead - wife. She sat on her bed, taking notice how cold and lonely she felt when her wife wasn’t beside her, telling him snarky remarks and witty comments. She smiled at the now faded memories of their laughter. The Time Lord had no choice but to let a tear roll down her face. It was awful really, how they treated River in her final moments, and the Doctor acknowledged the fact. Though there was no forgiveness, even from herself, the Doctor tried to compensate for it.

She remembered when she first met River. She practically dropped from the sky, knowing every little detail about him. It was difficult, falling in love with a practical stranger, who really wasn’t one at all. Falling in love with someone from the distant future that you wished would come closer. He tried not to though, more for his sake than anything. If he knew this absolute goddess of a woman would be ripped from him, from his past no less, he didn’t think he could survive it. It pained him enough to watch her burn, knowing her love for him - something he would once return -, and not being able to do anything about it. Knowing full well that she would be his wife one day, someone he trusted enough to tell him his very own name, and would be utterly useless in helping her. If she truly was who she said he was, he didn’t think he could live past a loss like that, even if it was inevitable.

So, he did what he always did. He ran. He ran away from his problems like a child, understanding that he couldn’t get too close to her, he just couldn’t. A loss like that would absolutely demolish him. And it did. It swallowed him up ‘till there was nothing left. It destroyed their soul, letting nothing remain in its wake. But if only he could prevent that. He tried hard, keeping his distance as much as he could. But he couldn’t do much but let her take him along. As much as he didn’t want to feel the heartbreak like the stupid, selfish man he was, he just couldn’t stay away from her. He was so, so selfish, letting his own joy get in the way of both of their wellbeing. The Doctor loved every moment with River, savouring it until there was nothing. The twenty=four years wasn’t enough. No amount of time would ever be enough with her.

It was even more selfish to continue to ruin her life. She could have been so much more, but all her potential - as well as her regenerations - were wasted on them. They were the cause of the Silence and all of River’s trauma. All the pain that she tried to keep hidden, all the nightmares that would strike her at the dead of night, were all because of the Doctor. It was an awful weight to bring down on her, and yet she chose him. After all the pain and suffering, River chose him. She could have let them die, but she chose a different path than being the murderer and psychopath she thought she was. Not much of the same could be said for the Doctor. Her wife was a strong, powerful woman. She didn’t let her emotions keep her cooped up against her bedpost, drowning in the sorrows that came with thinking of her spouse. The Doctor on the other hand had a much more difficult time doing anything other than exactly that. She also kept the blue journal that described all their time together clutched against their chest as they slept, within the hours that nightmares of her own kept her awake.

The Doctor rose from the bed, walking over to the closet. It was filled with mainly her clothes. A tiny smile graced their face as the Doctor thought of all the times they spent adventuring together, gathering clothes from different time periods. Obviously the TARDIS had more than enough, but the Doctor certainly did not go more than a week before buying a new article of clothing, something River greatly appreciated. They spent years walking in and out of there, sometimes they’d just drop their clothes straight onto the floor. That seemed to happen a lot since they were often being hurried. The Doctor slowly took a few steps before instantly being hit with a wave of perfume -cherry vanilla as it would happen-, taking her time breathing in River’s lovely scent. There was a hint of something different, something uniquely her in a way the Doctor never understood until now. It was time, the living blood work of River Song. With her blood of bronze and hair of gold, she showed up and destroyed the Doctor’s life in the most fashionable way possible: by making them fall in love with her.

Of course, that wasn’t that hard of a task. The Doctor, as much as they tried, was more than happy to live happily with their soon-to-be wife. Honestly, he loved being around her more than her around him .She filled him with the most wonderful thoughts and feelings, making them feel all sorts of… bubbly. It was a privilege just being within the same room with her, much less being her spouse. It amused them that she could slip away from him so easily. As the sands of time within an hourglass were wearing thin, so was their time together. The Doctor had been trying to stop his own heart from falling head over heels in love with the madwoman, but he managed to fail spectacularly. If anything, it made him want to love her more. They loved her more than anything, more than they ever thought they could love. And yet, as cruel fate would have it, in his efforts to stop himself from loving, she didn’t know she was loved. She didn’t realise how utterly heartbroken and useless she would make them when she left him that night on Darillium.

It was a crushing defeat when River left. Like a slap to the face, leaving him brokenhearted with nothing to do. It felt like a deafening blow, as if he was correct in wanting to save himself from it. But no, he wasn’t going to be the selfish old man he knew he was. He was going to push through, saving their tears for midnight, where they could cry in peace. She left him wishing for something to pull him from his thoughts. It was all too much. But then, after much time, he met Bill. It wasn’t enough to make him forget about her - nothing would -. He couldn’t push his pain away, and he certainly wasn’t going to put it on someone else. But the absolute suffering he went through, spending every waking moment wishing she was near him. Spending every morning, expecting to wake up to her golden curls in his face, or her warmth enveloping him as he wrapped his arms around her. But he could barely sleep now, and when he did, the sheer pain of not being able to feel her, nor see her would crush him. He would spend every spare moment thinking about ways to save her, knowing full well that 1. It was damn near impossible, trying to free her. And 2. If he was going to fail, the pain of knowing they were so close, yet so far, would shred his hopes, and burn the traces. It never worked, as their thoughts would always stray to how beautiful the green of her eyes were - like emeralds- , or how every cork of curls bestowed upon her head acted as a crown. She was a queen, both literally and figuratively. The kingdoms she ruled over prospered, every single one. But from a more figurative standpoint, she was the most perfect and elegant person you would every meet. She shined grace and mischief, polluting the dear Doctor’s mind. It was very enticing to themself drown in the bliss that is River Song. Allowing themself to dive into the love and burning embers that grows within her soul. River would rule their very being, plundering any other thought from inhabiting their indentured mind. Because River Song was an enigma, hard to wrap their head around. She lived in the Doctor’s thoughts. But that wasn’t enough. The Doctor wanted to see her, breath in her scent, live alongside her for the rest of their lives. If the Doctor truly was immortal, that probably wouldn’t happen. River Song would find some other way to leave her life, slowly but surely. There was no way River and the Doctor could stay together forever though. But remember when I said it was damn near impossible, trying to save her? Take notice to the near part. Possibility wasn’t going to stop her from trying to free her wife from the imprisonment she put her through. But that’s what they do, isn’t it? Push people away until it’s too late. If only they didn’t make River leave on Trenzalore. Maybe then things could be different. They could still have adventures long after she passed, even in his timeline. Maybe if she lived with him even as a ghost… The Doctor would love her all the same, after all. So if only the Doctor didn’t push everyone away, If only the Doctor could learn to just love, and let themself be able to love. It wouldn’t take much, and River Song was most definitely worth it.

#eleventh doctor x river song #twelfth doctor x river song #the doctor #the doctor x river song #river song #river song x the doctor #tenriver #doctor who #tenth doctor #eleventh doctor #twelfth doctor #doctor who fanfiction #thirteenth doctor #the thirteenth doctor #thirteen x river #thirteenth doctor x river song #space wives #h/c

5 notes · View notes

miraculous786 · 4 years

Note

I vote Damian to be Mari's Persephone because it would be hilarious to see him making flowers bloom when his wife is happy and when she's sad he brings out the hawthorns on anyone that made his Queen cry.

Note: Thank you so much Nonnies and @loveswifi for the help with this! Hope you enjoy it! ❤️❤️

Masterlist

A Hidden Hades Hunting For (Hopefully) Her Husband

Damian is son to Talia al Ghul, the goddess of harvest, sacred law, and the cycle of life and death. There are rumours that beneath her sweet exterior is a woman of high authority and challenge, but none have been confirmed.

She is believed to have wooed Bruce (Zeus) into having her child, however it is more widely accepted that she used her magic and power over fertility to have his offspring without him knowing. His wife Selina refuses to believe that such a brooding yet faithful man would cheat on her after he rid of his playboy-persona millennia ago.

In this AU, Jason is Ares, Dick is Hermes, and Tim is Athena.

Only those who know her well are aware of her true bubbly personality. They’re mostly the deceased souls of those who’ve died.

Marinette is Hades - goddess of the Underworld. She took visits to Earth in order to experience what life was like for mortals years ago, except stopped when gossip flew about around her being dark, despicable, evil.

Marinette laughed. Her domain didn’t need any worshippers in order to prosper, but she didn’t tell Lila that. She only sat back and watched, a grin on her face as students with glowing eyes accused her of unspeakable acts. It was only when one that she viewed as a sibling of sorts - Adrien Agreste - did as well that she decided to do something.

What happened was that a class of teenagers she came back to frequently were put under the spell of Dolos, or Lila who she took the form of. She sensed Marinette’s ichor and threatened to turn her followers against her if she didn’t conform to her will.

It was only after all of their deaths that they learnt what happened.

With a flick of the wrist, a crack formed in the ground beneath Dolos, soon enlarging into a crater as limbs made of fire pulled her screaming form down into the depths of the Underworld. The class watched, stunned, but then a fog began to clear out of their minds. They seemed to wake up, apologies on the tips of their tongues, only to realise that Bridgette and Adrien weren't there anymore.

Dolos was doomed to having to solve an infinite puzzle, whilst Adrien was allowed to live as an equal to Marinette in hell. The class, now adults, are sentenced to be souls who help them in their duties. They aren’t mistreated, however. On the contrary, they’re viewed as friends to her.

Now, we skip to present day.

Damian is sitting on a bench in one of the gardens that he is confined to on the orders of his mother, when he suddenly hears what sounds like a bark. He turns around, only to be met with something shoving him to the ground.

He whips out a vine, wrapping it around the creature to inspect its species. That's when he realises that it's a dog. A very happy dog that starts to lick his face all over and leave its saliva everywhere.

Despite his cold personality, Damian has a soft spot for nature and animals of any sort. He picks it up, stroking it gently and trying to fight off the urge to smile at the way it leans into his touch.

He's touch-starved himself, to put it simply.

Damian sits with what he realises to be a male dog for a few minutes more. He doesn’t bother to keep an eye out for Talia - he’s too busy creating vines that his new friend bats at with his paws. It explains why he doesn’t realise the person walking up to him until they put a hand on his shoulder.

A polite voice calls for him, asking if he found their pet.

He turns, only to be met with a beautiful face framed by a black hood. The woman smiles at him, then suddenly calls out, “Titus!” with a surprised expression.

The animal in his arms leaps forward, starting to lick her whilst jumping up and down happily. Her laughter causes Damian to freeze, since he starts to sense the magic surrounding her. She’s a diety, he realises. But how did she get in here?

That day is the day that a friendship blossomed between Damian and Marinette.

She convinces him that she’s a nymph of sorts, citing that the reason some plants wilt around her are because of a curse set upon her by Talia. It makes him cautious and understandably distrustful until she assures him that she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

They keep their meetings a secret for years, though it doesn't feel like that long because of their immortality. Titus is usually the communication between them, and leads Damian to where he needs to go within his mother's gardens to find Marinette.

She has earrings that preserve her identity and prevent nature around her dying - however, plants still wilt and weaken enough to be on the brink of death. They are brought back to life by Damian almost constantly when she is in his presence, meaning she can touch them without worry.

As time passes, the two become closer. Instead of words, they begin to trade flower crowns and daisy chains. They always have blushes on their cheeks when talking to one another, or even thinking about each other.

This doesn't go unnoticed by Talia.

She plans to figure out once and for all why her son's demeanor has changed, at least until she's called to Olympus by the higher-ups in order to discuss something. Something involving Damian.

This only makes it easier for the two to get away with their escapades.

One day, whilst her and Damian are sitting under a tree, Marinette pulls out a black ring. She shyly offers it to him, making him flustered as he slowly takes and slides it on his finger.

What he doesn't know is that there's magic laced within the jewellery.

They relax for a few minutes in silence, until she breaks it by calling his name. She takes a deep breath, preparing herself as she explains that she's not really a nymph - she's a diety. A diety that he wouldn't like if he found out about the domain that she ruled over.

A soft hand cups her tear-stained cheek. She looks up, only to hear Damian whisper, "I'm sure that's not true, Beloved."

That's all it takes for her to yank him forward into a kiss, which he returns full-force under the watchful gaze of her sibling Adrien in the shadows. It takes all of his will to not jump up and down from joy.

They officially become a couple that day.

Marinette returns to the Underworld in the evening with a dazed expression, causing Alya and her friends to grin and float up to her. She deals with their relentless teasing, trying to cover her face out of embarrassment whilst she hesitantly tells them all what happened.

Adrien is the first to suggest courting Damian, though she immediately shuts it down and expresses fear at being found out. Her reputation was tainted, after all - and maybe he would go back on his promise of still loving her true self.

He manages to convince her of his sincerity by reminding her of all their interactions (he may or may not have watched over them to keep watch and see his ship sail), and Marinette eventually comes to the decision to start courting.

As she prepares lavish gems to gift him in the future, she is unaware of what is happening in the skies way above.

She'd refused to give him up - saying that he was her pride and joy and the perfect soldier for them to use in battle against future enemies trying to overthrow them. That made him even more angry.

Bruce, after a long conversation with Selina and his many children, had decided to have a conversation with Talia about his youngest son not too long ago. He showed interest in wanting to have custody of Damian on Olympus instead of her having him on Earth, making Talia lose her sweet attitude and gain a scowl.

Lightning struck harsh that night, and the goddess of harvest had returned home with her tail between her legs and a newly-formed resentment towards Damian. He was too busy thinking about his 'nymph' friend to notice, however.

In Olympus at the current moment in time, Damian is kneeling before Bruce. The god tells him to stand, his sons and daughters at his side displaying various levels of shock as he begins to explain why he is there, and why he will be in the future.

Everyone had agreed that Talia wasn't a good fit for him, due to her revealed intentions for his birth. He doesn't have time to argue about the situation before he is whisked away into a room fit for a royal, high in the clouds and miles away from his girlfriend.

The next morning, a dinner is set up with all of the gods in Olympus, including Tim, Jason and Dick. Dick is enthusiastic, trying to make conversation with Damian as his brothers are eating (or drinking coffee...). However, he has none of it.

He's too busy thinking about Marinette. How she would think that he'd broken his promise, or had abandoned her, or forgotten about her. His demeanor switches to his defensive one - cold, cruel, uncaring.

Marinette returns to Earth with a crown in her hands the next day, which has a shining jewel in the centre and spikes with the finest of gems at their points. She looks around excitedly, smile on her face as she and Titus wait for Damian.

Hours pass.

Up in Olympus, said diety is being introduced to family friends and other gods, that all coo at him much to his displeasure. He growls under his breath after every new person he meets, only cementing in everyone that he is a child. A young one that needs to be watched over like a hawk lest he attempts to go back to his mother.

Just as he enters his room with a heavy heart, he senses something strange in the mortal world. Large fields of crops near to his old home had just been destroyed - their roots upended and ripped out. His eyes widen.

Damian rushes to Earth, taking a route that is unknown to most whilst trying to keep hidden from his new siblings. He reaches his destination in a matter of mere seconds, but it's too late. He only breathes out a shocked sigh as he gazes down at the crater in the ground.

There's a glint of something gold at the bottom of it, and he picks the item - the crown - up with almost invisible tears in his eyes. The ring on his finger burns as a reminder of Marinette's emotions.

Below him, a frantic Adrien is trying to calm her down, but it's no use. The goddess of the Underworld is hysteric, crying rivers of tears filled with betrayal as souls all around try to ease her too.

Damian spends the next centuries and millennia on Olympus, sometimes returning to Earth when he wants to remember Marinette.

He keeps her a secret from all of the gods except for one of his friends - Jon (Artemis) - though he only mentions that she was someone important that handed him the crown that is always on his head.

He reluctantly begins to view Tim, Jason and Dick as brothers when enough time has passed, but never admits it. Selina and Bruce, however, catch the glints of relief in his eyes when they're in his presence. He finally has someone to talk to without worrying about Talia, excluding Marinette all those years ago.

Speaking of which, she had slowly become closed off and harsher in her treatment of the dead in the Underworld. They see that she's spiraling, hiding her depressed state under a constant frown, but can do nothing about it. Even Adrien is unable to bring back her kind personality in the absence of Damian.

That is, until he catches word from the messenger, Dick, that he is up in the skies on Olympus.

It's a slip-up, of course, but he still manages to catch what Dick says and act like he didn't. He waits until he's gone before he rushes back to Marinette and tells her what he suspects.

A small smile spreads across her face. One that is cruel like the rumours say, yet happy like she once was. Of course he didn't want to leave her, she thinks. He was simply forced into doing so.

Damian is talking to Jon about another recent affair in the middle of a mortal forest, when suddenly, he freezes. He feels a familiar burn at the ring on his hand, along with fields full of nature dying in an instant miles away.

He uses a zeta portal to teleport to the area, leaving behind a confused Jon. He zips around, eyes wide as he senses the plants around wilting slightly, along with some of the nearby animals inching away from him.

Everything becomes quiet. That's when he catches a flash of black darting around in the corner of his vision. He turns there, his eyes widening in recognition when seeing a dog wagging its tail happily.

"Titus!"

Damian takes a step forward.

A large crack forms in the ground beneath him, revealing the depths of the Underworld in all of their glory. Just as he's about to fall down, a chariot of the darkest colours hovers below him, soon speeding off without a second to waste with him inside.

He tries to command vines to capture the person at the reigns of it, but can only muster enough energy to sag back. Strong magic fills the air around him, forcing him to stay seated on plush pillows.

The last thing he sees before his sight is shrouded with nothing is a glint of red at his kidnapper's ears.

~*~*~

More to come!

There will be a second part, which will include general headcannons and what happens after this. Feel free to send in an Ask if you have any suggestions of different legends in Greek mythology that could be included. :)

@northernbluetongue @moonystars14 @soupfilledboots @vixen-uchiha @starsshineandgivehope @professionalfangirl1738 @queen-in-a-flower-crown @pale-lady-dreamer

#mlb x dc #ml x dc #dc x mlb #dc x miraculous #daminette #maridami #marinette x damian #damian x marinette #damimari #maribat #adribat #ml salt #lila salt

715 notes · View notes

thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

Never Satisfied [Chapter 6]

Corpse Husband x Original Female Character

Warnings: Language

A collaboration between Vy & Ashens 🖤

“I don’t wanna look like this, fuck”

Previously on Never Satisfied:

Digital Checkpoint activated. Reply to save progress. 💜 — Cora

With minimal contemplation he replies seconds later.

Corpse: save

Cora: your progress has been saved. Thank you for choosing A.S.S. - the Automated Save System. You are now free to activate the digital checkpoint at any time.

Cora: I had a nice time. Text me whenever you need to. We’ll hang out again soon, deal?

Corpse: thank you

Cora: anytime sugar ;)

Funny how a text exchange so simple and short can turn so much around for a person. Funny how a huge weight lifts off him the second he locks his phone, suddenly finding it easier to breathe, to move, to blink, to function - to live. She gives him that kick he needs to be reminded to live and not just be alive. He’s still not comfortable with how much he’s relying on her but seeing her effect on him is nothing but positive, the most and best thing he can do for himself is go with the flow and let things happen. No overthinking, no planning, no shooting guesses, just facing things as they come face-to-face with him. He may never get used to it, but he won’t know that until he tries, will he?

* * *

Corpse sighs as he looks at himself in the mirror. He’s been trying to step up a little with the dressing game since he’ll be having a special guest over - ok, truth be told, he didn’t invite her, she invited herself but he’s glad she did. Lord knows he wants her company and wants her around but he could never bring himself to invite her over or initiate a hangout. Good thing Cora doesn’t expect anything from him, not of that nature at least. It’s oddly amazing having a person like her - someone who basically reads his mind like an open book and then takes action according to what she’s read. It’s not only the fact that she accurately gauges all his wants and needs, but also how she knows exactly what to do to satisfy them. To calm him down, to relieve his anxiety, to make him feel comfortable. He feels strangely selfish for always being on the receiving end of this friendship, although he doesn’t see much he could do for her. He’s decided to let time have full control of the course of their relationship, hoping his giver time would come soon.

As of now, however, it still hasn’t and he can stomach that.

It’s been about a week and a half since their first hangout but he hasn’t missed her once. That may be due to how much they’ve been texting ever since he unlocked that checkpoint she offered him. To be more specific, it probably has something to do with the fact that her texts are always so full of life and light, sounding almost like she’s there with him, talking in her signature upbeat and bubbly way which is such a contrast to his own melancholic approach to any conversation ever.

She’s also sent him a ton of memes and selfies, plus pictures she took of clients’ pets. In return for her kindness, he’s sent her bad jokes, weird internet articles about ghosts and pictures of the current game he was playing. Needless to say, their chats have been very colorful.

Now that the scene has been set up a little better, a direct timeline of events lading up to this one would be appreciated, wouldn’t it? Ok so, it all started with an “I’m bored” text Corpse received from Cora about two hours ago. Instinctively, and partially because he didn’t have any idea what else he could possibly say in response to that he sent back an apology. An apology Cora apparently deemed a loophole she could use to invite herself over cause that’s exactly what she did, not that Corpse minds it much. In fact, he felt his heartbeat quicken with excitement when her “K then, I’ll be there in a bit :)” text came in. At first he thought it was his anxiety kicking in but when he realized the rest of his typical symptoms remained absent it took him a little while to pinpoint what that emotion could be.

The epiphany came in the form of the word ‘excitement’.

Regardless of the newfound feeling, or maybe exactly because of it, he attempted to protest. A protest she killed easily with a threatening “I know where you live” text which sent Corpse scrambling to get the apartment in some kind of order. Himself too, it’s safe to say he wasn’t looking the most presentable when he received that message.

His cleaning session consisted mostly of him shoving the strewn about items in his closet and closing it shut like a wild beast dwelled inside, placing a chair in front of the door as a sign for her not to open it and also as a way of preventing the thing from opening on its own because of how overflowing it was.

Afterwards he scrambled into the shower to scrub himself down. It’d been too much for him to tackle given he wasn’t doing too well mentally, but considering he was now suddenly expecting company he thought it’d be for the best not to subject his new friend to the three-day-unshowered Corpse stank.

Right now, his main focus is his face, his stomach sinking at the sight of himself in the mirror’s reflection.

How does she even want to see me?

His mirror is cracked along the right side, spider web-like cracks reaching towards the center of it from the impact point serving as a reminder of a particularly bad night he’d rather forget.

He sighs as he combs his hair, knowing the dark curls won’t oblige and behave no matter how much he tries. He touches his jaw, deciding to let himself off the hook by deeming that a shave wouldn’t be necessary for at least another day. And then his eyes land on his clothes - an outfit it didn’t take him long to put together since those are the only articles of clothing in his closet he’d consider presentable enough to be shown off in front of a new friend who is yet to find out how much of a slob he really is. That clothing choice consists of a black button-up shirt and jeans.

This is nice, right? It’s fine. It’s business casual but definitely leaning more towards casual, as some would say. I look...nice, decent. I’ll take it - it’s enough. Far better than my ‘usual’.

A knock at the door startles him, though it’s quickly followed by a voice he’s grown to find very endearing:

“THIS IS THE COPPAS! OPEN UP YA’ DOOR!” The voice yells out, probably loud enough for the whole complex to hear but it’s not like he gives a shit. And, as context clues show, neither does she.

Corpse exits his bathroom, heading for the front door, pulling the chain off and unlocking the deadbolt before opening it. The object of his newfound affection stands on the other side, grinning and beaming with that usual light she has surrounding her. Her hair is thrown up into a messy bun - a hairstyle she seems to love - and she’s wearing a simple red t-shirt covered in little chubby, cartoonish black cats that seem to be struggling to exist.

He smiles a little, finding it in himself to speak up but when he opens his mouth to do so, she cuts him off.

“Jesus, did you just come back from a funeral?” She asks, pulling at one of the buttons on his chest as she walks past him, letting herself in.

His eyes, completely on their own accord, wander down as she walks on by, causing him to swallow hard as he finds himself staring at a pair of tanned legs, patterned by the fishnets she’s wearing, leading up to a pair of short black shorts.

She turns on her heel about halfway down the hall, leading him to take an inevitable notice of how her well-loved boots could use a polish. Anyhow, he snaps his gaze away to hide the fact he’s been gawking, despite not really meaning to.

“No, but for real, why are you wearing that? You seem super confined and uncomfy, bud.”

Corpse blinks before swallowing and glancing down at himself, pulling at the button she touched before looking back up, his gaze traveling up the length of her legs. She has suspenders hanging over her thighs, more of an accessory than a necessary addition to her outfit. “I just...I dunno, I thought it looked nice. Does it not? I mean, I wouldn’t know, really. I don’t usually dress like this.”

“I mean, you look dapper as fuck but if you’re not comfortable then change, get your comfy game on. I’m the last person you need to impress in this world.”

God, she sees right through him. Even so, he considers protesting, trying to convince it’s all fine, that he likes this shirt and the outfit in its entirety. But her stare sets the record straight for him - she’ll know it’s all lies. And with that in mind, he lets his shoulders fall. Not a full second passes before he promptly starts undoing his buttons.

“Oh, thank fuck.” She comments as he goes to retreat into his room, stripping the shirt off as he walks, unaware of her lingering eyes on his back, unaware of her lower lip bitten between her pearly teeth. Unaware of the subtle shift in her stance as she looks him over much like he did her moments earlier.

When he returns a moment later in a simple dark grey t-shirt, she greets him with a grin and pats his chest. “Much better.”

It doesn’t take long for them to decide to crash on his couch, throw on a bad movie and just sit in comfortable silence. Comfortable silence - something that usually eats away at him and is anything but comfortable he now sees as calming, a soothe to his ever-racing mind.

Disrespecting the movie, Corpse takes to analyzing his guest instead. She has so much confidence, he can’t help but notice, like she’s been here hundreds of times, known him for so long. He hates her a little for it. Well, it’s not quite hate, it leans more toward envy. Jealousy. That human-nature characteristic of wanting what someone else has but you desperately need/wish you had. In his mind, she’s almost selfish: Why couldn’t she share some of that confidence and carefree manner with the rest of the world? It oozes out of her like a drip of honey from a beehive, sweet and warm. And all he wants yet has none of.

He instinctively tenses up as he feels her move closer before, suddenly, her head drops into his lap, legs kicked over the armrest of the couch. He holds his breath almost subconsciously, staring at her as she remains focused on the television. Unsure of what to do with his hands, he puts one across the back of the couch and the other awkwardly bent above his head. He doesn’t want her to get the wrong idea if he touches her. He doesn’t want to come off as a creep nor does he want to overstep any of her boundaries, despite the fact she’s walking a dangerous line of overstepping his. Well, that would’ve been the case if this was done by anyone but her. The way Corpse comes to this realization is when he figures out that he really doesn’t mind this proximity, as long as he doesn’t embarrass himself or creep her out in any way.

What felt like an eternity passes before she finally speaks up, still without looking away from the movie playing on the screen opposite the couch, “You know, I can feel how tense you are.”

His face flushes with embarrassment, heating up as his mind immediately goes to the worst possible outcome of this situation.

She’ll probably sit up, or leave, he thinks to himself, heart thumping in his ears as he tries to observe her face the best he can from this angle. Nevertheless, he swallows that fear as she rolls her head to look up at him with those large glittering doe eyes, grinning a bit as she seems to always do, “You can just put your hands wherever it’s comfortable for you. I don’t mind.”

He hesitates for a moment but, as always, he doesn’t get much say cause she makes the choice for him, knowing that pesky fear is keeping him immobile. She takes the hand from over his head and pulls it down to rest just next to her skull. She then drags the one resting at the back of the couch, placing it so his hand is resting dead-center on her stomach. Satisfied with how she’s rearranged his posture, she goes back to watching the movie but not before asking: “This okay?” while looking at him through her peripheral vision.

He’d have to admit it’s far more comfortable like this.

“Yeah, it’s fine. You’re okay?” He asks, feeling relieved when he feels her nod against his leg.

He moves his hand a little and swallows hard as he contemplates if he really should make the move he’s thinking of at the moment. And then he abruptly decides not to think. So, instead, he acts on it.

Without thinking of any potential negative consequences, Corpse slides his fingers to lace with hers, resting their conjoined hands on her stomach in the same spot where she left his hand a bit ago. She curls her digits around his tighter as reassurance that it’s ok. Her palm feels warm in his hand, her thumb tracing his cold metal rings.

Checkpoint...his checkpoint.

Is this what it feels like to be normal?, he wonders, Is this what it feels like to really connect with someone? He has never felt this before. He’s never met someone who has such an effect on him, understand him like this - Without even having to ask she grounded him; she knew what he needed and didn’t make him feel like an idiot about it. Instead she gave him the comfort he needed.

And suddenly he finds himself afraid - realizing that this isn’t simply a vibe of two buddies hanging out. He has that subtle ache in his chest that’s telling him he wants something…something substantial from this friendship. He wants this to last, or for it to blossom, he’s not sure yet. But for the first time, he doesn’t feel the overwhelming need to figure it out. That’s one of the many effects this girl has on him - she’s the definition of improvisation, unpredictable and alive. He’s slowly learning to let loose himself, all thanks to her. Slowly, he’s learning to trust time.

He abruptly realizes he’s glancing at her often as the movie is still running, examining her features and slowly running his gaze down the length of her fishnet-clad thighs before quickly looking away, mentally scolding himself. It’s hard, but he manages to turn his gaze elsewhere for his sake and hers. For the sake of keeping things normal, platonic and not in any way awkward for either of them. The last thing he needs is to make things weird by letting his mind wander and activate his libido and then she’d really notice how tense he is.

Cora remains oblivious to what’s going on in his head, thank God, as she continues running her thumb across his knuckles, eyes half lidded in calm content - something that’d typically seem like the complete opposite of what she is. He likes seeing her like this, tamed almost. He feels like no one else has had the privilege to see this calm side of her. Maybe that’s not the truth - it probably isn’t - but he still feels special, knowing that it’s a tight circle of people who have seen her this way.

And then he realizes the movements of her thumb on his hand have stopped.

He freezes for a moment, his fearful gaze travelling to her face where he’s relieved to find her eyes closed only seconds before he hears a light snore escape her.

She’s fallen asleep.

It’s an odd scene. She’s such a wild and free spirit, seeing her fall asleep like this is like observing an abnormality, a paranormal event. You know, like something one doesn’t usually believe exists or is capable of happening. He’d never before been able to imagine her asleep. It’s ridiculous, he’s aware - she’s human after all, but his mind has never been able to comprehend the thought and image of her captured by the power of sleep. He simply couldn’t see it happening. But now that it’s happened in front of him, he can’t look away from the sight of her relaxed, peaceful features, overcome by sudden slumber.

And then he comes to the realization that he’s now practically held hostage on his own couch, crippled by the danger of waking her up. It’s gonna be a long while, isn’t it, he thinks to himself, yet there’s still a satisfied smile on his face. A smile that’s a result of knowing he’s held hostage by her. That’s more a blessing than a curse, if he’s being honest.

@fockingwhore @vixenl @annshit @wineandionysus @wiseflamingoqueen

56 notes · View notes

anarcho-smarmyism · 3 years

Note

How would prison abolition deal with murderers, serial killers, paedophiles, torturers,kkk members,neo-Nazis and terrorists? Some people are a legit danger and cannot be allowed to roam society.

So I didn’t answer this at the time, because the anon who sent it is almost definitely the racist troll sending me shit I’m not going to publish (so like uhhh bear that in mind lmao), but I’ve blocked them now and it’s been a few days, so hopefully they’ve fucked off by now. Plus, I’ve been thinking about this question a LOT since before I received it. It’s a question that I think most people have about the concept of prison abolition and reparative justice, and not everyone with these concerns is asking in bad faith. Besides which, with the recent attempted coup and the way it looks like people who participated are actually going to face legal consequences for it (which alone was somewhat surprising to me tbh), I’ve been seeing a lot of leftists discoursing over whether it’s morally okay and intellectually consistent to be happy about cops beating up, killing, and arresting KKK members and Neo-Nazis, so it is now actually topical! Under the cut due to long response~

So the first thing I want to point out, is that literally every single one of the groups of “legit dangers who cannot be allowed to roam society”, are already out there right now. In our current “justice” system, it’s common knowledge that monsters often get off on a technicality, or because they just have the money to throw lawyer after lawyer at the charges, or because they outright bribe someone, or countless other ways to get around the law. You can look on my own literal tumblr blog and watch me argue with grown ass adults who will bold faced admit to consuming child porn with half-assed excuses, and you’ll find more open pedophiles on sites like twitter, reddit, or 4chan, or porn sites where “teen” is usually one of the most popular categories. Besides which, have you ever looked at the average sentences for convicted rapists, wife beaters, or pedophiles, as compared with the sentences for getting caught selling drugs? In middle school I had to walk a mile or two to get to school through a neighborhood we’d been warned had a convicted pedophile in it, who had just been released after less than 15 years. In that same city, I heard a story about a woman shooting and killing her rapist, and prosecutors were discussing giving her the death penalty for it (she was bragging and laughing about it on video, it was definitely premeditated, but still). Have you ever looked at the statistics of how many rapists and abusers aren’t reported, or if they are reported aren’t prosecuted, or if they are are prosecuted with a slap on the wrist (remember Brock Turner????) Also I notice how you didn’t even mention domestic abusers or rapists in your list of people who need to be locked up lolololol shows where your priorities vis a vis “public safety are I’m sorry, but the system just does not work the way you think it does, the we are taught it does.

People who make this argument always act like the systems we have now are efficient and nigh on flawless when it comes to “not letting dangerous people roam society”, but it isn’t and it can’t be and it never will be. That very fact ought to be enough to shake your faith in the idea that society will become a nonstop Purge of indiscriminate violence if everyone who’s committed a sufficiently despicable act of violence isn’t locked up for the rest of their lives -but you might say, “okay, but those are flukes, the system still works because most of the people who are “a danger to society” are usually locked up.” I’m not completely sold that that’s even true (have you ever heard of the opportunities cops had to bring in serial killers and murderers, who just didn’t care enough to try? Jeffrey Dahmer is a good example of this), but I’ll assume it is to move on to my next point.

Even if we assumed that the system as we have it, worked flawlessly as designed, that doesn’t change the fact that a lot of the categories mentioned here are people that are actively running the very systems that this rhetoric is defending. It’s well-documented that American white supremacists of various stripes have infiltrated law enforcement and the military for the express purpose of not just “roaming free”, but getting to exert the power of the State over people of color. Cops and soldiers kill people all the time, and not only are they not penalized, they’re celebrated for it. Agents of the State fucking torture people all the time, and I don’t just mean Guantanamo Bay or war crimes by soldiers; cops have been caught on camera spraying protesters with pepper spray and beating them once they’ve already been handcuffed or while they’re chained to trees or whatever -not because they think they “need” to, because they want to, and they know they’ll get away with it. Cops also systematically torture people in prison with solitary confinement. Heads of state drop bombs on civilians for “politically motivated reasons”, they do all kinds of shit that would be called “terrorism” if anybody but a State did it; and people might disapprove, but they don’t (generally) claim that the politicians and generals who made that call are “a danger to society” that need to get life in prison. If you genuinely believe that whether these acts of violence are “legal” or not changes whether they’re okay, or that a person who engages in illegal violence is “dangerous” but people who engage in legal violence aren’t... I’m honestly not even going to try to refute that here lol, prison abolition is level 5 shit and you’re at level -1, study how authoritarianism in general works before trying to understand prison abolition (not trying to be a dick here, it’s what i would tell my younger self when I believed the same thing).

It simply does not hold up to rational scrutiny to believe that society will collapse into an orgy of violence and mayhem if we abolish prison (or that we’ll have to resort to medieval punishments instead??? lol funny take i remember from some racist troll or other over the years), when those dangers are already present (and in some cases widely celebrated as “heroes” and given the power to indiscriminately brutalize “acceptable targets” with the State’s monopoly on violence) under the current system.

The next thing people need to understand is that contrary to popular belief and despite how counterintuitive it sounds, even the brutality of our current prison system is not an effective deterrent to crime (linked a Guardian article that looks like it has some good info on this, but I recommend a book called Unfair: The New Science of Criminal Injustice by Adam Benforado for more information). Let me say that again: the threat of prison has been empirically shown to be INEFFECTIVE as a deterrent to crime. Do you really think that a serial killer or someone who wants to blow up a building full of people is going to be more likely to follow the law for fear of prison, than regular people doing regular people crimes like selling drugs or getting into drunk fights that go too far?

I don’t think anyone is actually willing to argue that prison “rehabilitates” anyone, or does anything besides make regular criminals into angrier, more antisocial, more desperate criminals with more criminal connections and less options for any kind of a legitimate living, so I’m just going to point out that having such a large prison population arguably creates more people who have shitty lives of poverty and are surrounded by people who are in and out of prison. It’s not like that “makes” anybody into a serial killer, but I feel like you’d have to willfully ignorant to act like it’s not a factor in increasing violent crime in affected community.

So, I’ve so far argued that prison is an ineffective solution to the problems it claims to exist in order to solve, and that in many cases, it actually makes the problems that lead to these sorts of dangerous people (”regular” murderers and the radicalization of Neo-Nazis and KKK members in particular, I think) becoming dangerous, or at least more dangerous, in the first place. What I haven’t done, is talk about what I believe is the real core of the issue when it comes to prison abolition: nobody wants to fucking peacefully rehabilitate these people. I am arguing for a system that would handle these people basically as gently as possible, with the goal of releasing them back into society eventually, and I still believe these things mostly intellectually, not emotionally. I don’t want the men who sexually assaulted me and/or my loved ones to get off scot free (they did, of course, but that’s beside the point), much less serial killers or Nazis, and I’m not about to get on my high horse about wanting revenge on people who’ve committed these kinds of atrocities. The reason I’m a prison abolitionist in spite of these feelings is that I do not believe the desire for revenge, for punishment for punishment’s own sake, is an impulse we should indulge when creating social and political infrastructures that have ultimate power over millions of lives. In the words of someone talking about abolishing the death penalty, the question isn’t “do they deserve to die”, the question is “do we deserve to kill”; and here, the question is not “does anyone deserve to be imprisoned in this system”, the question is “do we deserve to brutalize people in this way for virtually zero practical benefits to our society”. What any person “deserves” is a subjective moral and philosophical question, one that no conceivable human justice system could ever actually answer. We as a society need to build alternatives to prison (and police!) that can actually address these problems, actually prevent the conditions that create and enable monsters, and actually rehabilitate (to whatever extent that is possible) criminals -even the ones we, personally, despise. Any long-term incarceration that may end up being 100% required should be designed to reduce the suffering of the person in it, no matter how despicable of a person they are. Trying to solve “the problem of evil” instead of trying to create a more functional and just society is a fool’s errand that can only lead to more evil existing, in the end.

At the end of the day, the “irredeemable” people you listed off as justifications for the continuing existence of prison, are only a tiny fraction of the people in prison, even the ones with life sentences. A full understanding of the horror and oppression the prison industrial complex enacts on the people in it and their communities (and how the system is designed to make a profit off of human suffering and death) is something you’ll have to read some actual books about in order to acquire. However, I don’t think it’s controversial to say that any horror we as a society deem “acceptable” to do to the worst of the worst, will also be done to regular criminals, as well as to innocent people who are wrongly imprisoned. Any brutality you design with a serial killer in mind WILL eventually be a punishment for a petty thief or drug dealer or sex worker, or a person who didn’t commit the crime they were incarcerated for. Is it really worth it? Is it really, really worth all the misery and oppression prison causes, to satiate our sense of justice? I don’t believe that it is. I believe that we have a responsibility both to the incarcerated and to their communities to base our policies and institutions on actually solving these societal problems however we can, and leaving our “eye for an eye” mentality in the dark ages where it belongs.

If you are interested in prison abolition as a concept, I can recommend some good books on it. You also need to understand that concept of “reparative justice”, which I’ve alluded to here but not really explained because OH MY GOD THIS POST IS TOO LONG ALREADY. Short explanation of it is that it aims to repair the harm done by the crime and rehabilitate the criminal through through therapy and trying to get them to actually understand what they’ve done and empathize with who they’ve hurt, while also providing therapy and resources to the victim of the crime (when it’s something violent and the reparation can’t just be “give them their money back plus extra for damages” or something). The point is not to satiate anybody’s sense of justice or revenge, but to proactively try to solve the problem the crime has caused and prevent the offender from doing it again. It would need to work in conjunction with the abolition of police (and replacement with better infrastructure for the few things cops do that we actually need done) and various other social programs and measures to prevent the circumstances that lead to crime. This sounds like a long shot because it is, but just because it hasn’t been done on a wide scale before doesn’t mean it can’t be, and just because it will be difficult doesn’t mean it’s not worth doing.

#prison #prison abolition #reparative justice #anarchist #anarchism #prison industrial complex #asks #anonymous

131 notes · View notes

fanfiction-funtime · 3 years

Text

Self insert oc: Alexander Vodka

AKA: Eis Cay'zar

Author of fate

A writer from Schneznaya who was driven from his home for his anti-Tsaritsa paper.

_____________________

Physical description:

A chubby fellow in a 1950's style noir trenchcoat and hat, some would even say he looks like he jumped right out of a noir comic book and into reality. He has brown hair and green eyes, a cowboy mustache, and a pointed beard like some kind of comic book supervillain genius.

He often acts confidently and even a bit egotistical when in places he's recognized and famous in, however in newer places he often seems distant and shys away from almost all contact.

Noone knows where his vision is, but they know he has one because of the cold aura that surrounds him.

At night he'll often trade his outfit for one more reminiscent of demons or vampires.

_____________________

Abilities:

Weapon type: Catalyst

Basic attack-truth: uses his catalyst to shoot a short burst of up to 3 ice shards, can attack in fast succession.

"Truth hurts, especially in bursts"

Charged attack-Bifrost: Alexander quickly makes an ice clone behind the enemy and fires 6 shots, this can increase to 3 clones if charged enough(times: 1 for 1 second, 2 for 2 seconds, and 3 for 2.5 seconds)

"I hate crowds, best company has always been myself"

Elemental ability-ice wall: creates an aura of sheer cold around himself that will damage enemies the more they stay in it, and apply the normal sheer cold to them. Does not affect party.

"My therapist said I put up walls because of trauma, but I couldn't hear them through the wall I had just built"

Elemental burst-a story to be told: Alexander takes out his book and opens to a random page, then randomly summons ice sculptures of one of 8 beings:

"Aster": this summon looks like the flatwoods monster, it surrounds the party in a swirl of ice blades that deal 2X damage as the character for 10 seconds.

"Who needs brawn, when you got brain"

"Ultimate foe": a demonic, pointy being of shadow. Will independently deal 25000 damage to three random foes.

"Meet my penultimate friend"

"Beethoven": a sculpture reminiscent of a ww1 zombie general, calls down a barrage of ice bombs that deal 5000 damage to enemies hit for 7 seconds.

"Good scifi doesn't predict, it prevents"

"Sorrows Joy": an angelic, faceless, robot like humanoid that spawns 25 angel shaped traps that freeze enemies around the character.

"With any luck, you're the only real one I've made"

"Death rider and the magic prince": two statues, one of a mummy like Schneznayan mystic of ancient barbarian times and the other an elven cavalry knight from the myths of mondstadt. The knight gives the party a 45% boost to speed and attack while moving, and the Schneznayan gives +10% damage bonus to elemental skills and +55% damage bonus to Catalyst.

"Feel the wrath of honor long passed"

"Zero point and Lion queen": a knightly man of spiked armor and a golden ottoman warrior woman whose golden chain completely obscures her head. Your enemies become inflicted with pyro and you are surrounded by thorn bushes that deal continuous damage of 1000 for 10 seconds.

"Walk down the way on a moonlit day"

The traveler: a child in a red straight jacket, his binds become undone after 4 seconds at which point all enemies take 10,000 X Alexander's level of damage.

"I uh,wont have to pay any copyrights will I?"

"Giota": a child in pyjamas who looks ready to sleep, this summon is very rare. It fully restores all party members and gives a 200% boost to both defense and damage of your characters.

"This fella's been with me since I was a kid"

"If it is a soldier's duty to escape the confines of a prison, is it not every person's duty to escape reality if even for a moment? A wise man said that, pray that I may one day be like him."

Passive-part the wasteland: Alexander is immune to sheer elements, and Grant's 50% resistance when in the party to all members.

_____________________

Story

Abandoning a dream

As a kid, Alexander was always put down when he said he wanted to write fiction, "there's no money in it" they all said.

He couldn't get into any art schools without support so he focused his mind elsewhere, a place he could hopefully use his writing to do just as much good: the first newspaper in Schneznaya.

Horrible truth

He didn't start as a trouble maker, but the more he sought out the truth the more he couldn't stand back and watch. He published numerous papers about the Tsarista's wrongdoings and the crimes of the fatui, how they would harass merchants in other nations, the unfair taxes many shipping businesses had to keep quiet about, all the way up to the war crimes the Tsarista had done in direct contradiction to her own laws.

Sadly, not many believed him even with evidence, but some got his message.

Those who fight

One day Alexander was approached by a man who claimed to have formed a resistance against the fatui. Alexander had inspired many people to disrupt the organization, and have even begun working with those outside Schneznaya.

With their help he didn't just publish some crimes, he published them all, he even got information that turned the general public against the fatui even if just a little.

In a way h had achieved his dream of helping others with his writing, even if it wasn't how he wanted.

Stop the presses

When the Tsarista started her big move of taking gnosis, she brought the hammer down on dissent like a boulder on a ten year old's wrist. One day a squad of thirty fatui stormed Alexander's home and business to silence him, and while they shut down his business they couldn't catch him.

Alexander fled into the wastelands of ice and snow and wasn't seen for several weeks.

Deus ex Vodka

One day Alexander showed up in Inazuma, a nation that had been oppressed for some time now and had recently reached it's height, yet no resistance had formed.

That was until Alexander came along.

Alexander published numerous books, spreading them throughout Inazuma. All of them spoke of freedom, of bravery, of rising up to achieve your ambitions.

And with those stories he inspired countless to take up arms, and in turn inspired countless to join the resistance.

And with mere fiction he had brought about hope,

And with mere fiction he shall do it again, in every form, and in every nation.

Vision: cold hearted

While wondering the waste Alexander fell down and looked to the skies.

He did not ask celestia why, he did not grieve or blame that he did not do more, instead Alexander did something he hadn't done in a long time:

He imagined.

And after he imagined he took out his notebook and wrote. In the freezing cold for seventeen days he wrote stories of hope and freedom.

For seventeen days the cold did not so much as cause him to flinch as he wrote tales of bravery.

For seventeen days Alexander Vodka lived how he wanted to live.

And at the end, he lied down to die.

Then a light shown, and when he opened his eyes to look he saw that the storm parted around him, and in his hand was an ice blue gem.

But Alexander was too paranoid from years of abuse from his peers as a child to wear it loosely, and far to extra to just get a lock. So instead Alexander shouted to celestia "if I shall have this Vision for my art, then it shall not kill me no matter what I do!"

He then shoved the vision into his heart and fell down.

Before he could bleed out however, a woman appeared.

"Hey Tsari, how ya doin." Alexander said as blood poured out his mouth.

"You dramatic fool," the Tsarista sighed as she put a hand on his chest, "you have my element, do you know how bad it'll look for me if you die by shoving your vision into your heart?"

"Why do you care? We hate eachother, in case you forgot."

The archon sighed, "you're just rebelling against what you see as unjust, just as I am. To be honest I feel a sort of rivalry with you, so it'd be a shame if you just died. Also," she painfully shoved the vision all the way in, painfully, "if your going to die it better be because of me, got it?"

Then Alexander sat up, and the god was gone. Along with the hole in his chest.

"Rival of a god eh?" He sat up, putting his gat back on his head, "I like the sound of that."

_____________________

How is this an insert?

Well his story can't be the exact same as mine, so I took my life and goals and made predictions, then fictionalized those predictions and expanded.

His appearance is pretty close to how I'll likely look based on my current appearance, and his dramatic attitude is exactly how I wanna act.

Him being shy in new places with strangers is me exactly as I am now really, however I do believe I'd act confidently if I were famous so he does as well.

Him being Catalyst is because I'm not athletic at all, and I figured a dps Catalyst would be cool. His main ability and resistance/immunity to sheer cold is based on how I wrap up in warm blankets when it's cold, and his ultimate is made up of characters I've made.

_____________________

Tagging: @genshin-obsessed, @golden-wingseos, @storytravelled, and @love-psxlm

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin oc

10 notes · View notes

omg-im-such-a-masochist · 3 years

Text

🌎 CULTURAL DIFFERENCES 🌍

Prompt: Y/N and Baron decide to take a big step in their relationship and moving in together. Everything seems to go pretty smoothly for them, until they bump into some little (and sometimes fun) cultural differences.

Word count: Long-ish

Pairing: Baron Corbin x Reader

Warnings: Apart from some cultural beliefs and cursing, nothing really.

Notes: I wanted to go smooth with my first fic with this giant teddy bear as a character. This little story is all based on my own country cultural beliefs. I’ve heard all of this ever since I was a little girl ok? None of this was made up! It’s written in both Y/N’s and Baron’s POV. Each scene is isolated, they do not complete each other. Y’all know the drill loves,sorry for misspellings,english isn’t my first language (bla bla bla),check out my other stories if you’d like to(it would make your girl here very happy 😊) and if you’re comfortable with it,please let me know what you think? Some feedback is always welcomed and appreciated ❤️You can check out my other stories typing ‘masochist writes’ on the search bar on my page and my newest story as a fixed post.Okay,now let’s get to the fun part,shall we? Hope you’ll enjoy 😉

“Y/N, can you please explain to me why in the hell do you need all of this?” He lifts up my perfectly organized (and not so small) jewelry box

“Babe, please put that down. You’ll take all of my stuff out of order” I say as I’m finishing doing my hair

He places the box down and start to dig through the drawers.

“Jesus, babe! Did you robbed a bank to buy all of these?” He’s incredibly amused by the amount of different shapes and sizes pieces.

“Don’t let your eyes fool ya, Corbin” I laugh “Only the ones on the first drawer to the left are real”

He takes a silver thick chain with small discreet rhinestones on it and stares at the piece of jewelry.

“Oh, those are nice” I say “You can borrow ‘em if you’d like”

He looks at me “I would prefer to borrow these instead” He lifted up a golden bracelet with colorful rhinestones shaped as butterflies “What do you think? Should I wear these to work? Do you think they’ll match my outfit?” He playfully places the bracelet on top of his t-shirt, obviously mocking me, since I do the same thing when I ask his opinion.

“Shut up Corbin!” I laughed

“Why do you need so much bracelets, earrings, hoops, necklaces and rings?” He says

I look at him defiantly “Why do you need so many watches, cigars, vintage lighters and expensive cars?” I crook one eyebrow at him

“Touché, princess. My excuse is because I can, yours?” He playfully smirks

“Because that’s who I am! I grew up surrounded by women full of jewelry, lipstick and these” I show him my long nails as I stick my tongue out just like a child would

“I like those” He pointed at my nails “They feel real good when you pair them up with sweet moans begging me to go harder” He gives me one of his cocky smirks

“You’re so full of yourself” I defeatedly say

.....................…..............................................

“Hey baby girl, what you’re up to? WOW something smells really good in here”

“Oh hi” I look at Baron as he entered the kitchen “Thanks! I’m making dinner” I smile

“Oh yeah?!” He lifts a lid from one of the saucepans “What you’re cooking?”

“Nothing crazy, just a simple regular dinner. White rice, beans, some meat with potato and carrots, broccoli and cauliflower for salad. Plus milk pudding for desert, the same one my grandma always made”

“And that’s your idea of ‘simple dinner’?” He asks amused

“It is simple”

“When you said simple I thought you‘ve meant, meat and some bread or something like that” He vaguely said

“That’s like a snack, not proper dinner Baron”.

“It’s pretty common to have that for dinner you know”

I look at him in disbelief “If I ever suggested that as a dinner option back in my family’s house I would’ve been told to shut up and eat my goddamn vegetables! A proper meal isn’t a proper meal if it doesn’t have rice and beans.”

He laughs “Do you need me to get the beans for you?”

“Do you have it?” I gasp in shock

“Of course” He goes and opens one of the upper kitchen cabinets taking out a can of beans “Here” He hand it to me

My eyes widened “Please don’t tell me you eat this crap!” As I shake the can in front of his face

“What’s wrong with it?” He asks offended

“Everything Baron! If it comes in a can is not good for you! I’m talking about cooking dried beans, real beans. Not this pathetic excuse for a bean”.

“They taste the same Y/N”

“Have you ever eaten freshly cooked beans?” I ask defiantly

“No, but-“

“Then you have no right of opinion on this debate!” I huffed and he rolled his eyes

......................................................................

“What in the actual fuck?” I say as I got up from the bed.

I followed the very loud music coming from downstairs in the living room to find Y/N in some skimpy clothes, barefoot with her hair up in a bun singing and dancing to whatever rhythm that was. I go to the radio and turn the music down. Making her look behind.

“Oh you’re awake” She smiles fondly

“How could I not be with this deafening loud music? What are you doing?”

“It’s Saturday babe” She says as if that was supposed to mean something

“Yeah I know! It’s also fucking 8 a.m. and my day off! I would like to still be asleep!” I say angrily

“But it’s Saturday” She says again

“And what’s that suppose to mean Y/N?”

“Saturday is the official house cleaning day, love” She speaks slowly as if she was talking to a child “Would you like to take the bedrooms and bathrooms or the living and dining room plus the kitchen?” She smiled

“Are you fucking kidding me Y/N? I would like to sleep! Sleep until fucking noon damn it! Official house cleaning day my ass” I scream as I make my way back to the bedroom slamming the door.

......................................................................

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING BARON?” She yelled

“Jesus fuck, you scared me! I’m cleaning as you can see” I say as I grab another piece of paper towel to clean the oven

“With paper towels?! Do you plan to bankrupt us and kill the environment too?”

“And what am I supposed to use to clean it?” I ask impatiently

She reaches one of the lower drawers and take a piece of one of her old shirts from it and hand it to me.

I just stare at her confused. She sighs before saying

“You use this to clean it, after you’re done you’ll wash it, put down to dry and once is dried you’ll store it back in the drawer again for future cleaning uses! That’ll save money and prevent more trees to get killed so you can clean your oven! Do I have to teach you everything babe?” She throws her hands in the air “Unbelievable” As she lefts me with a puzzled look on my face.

......................................................................

“Baron love, have you seen my purse?”

“Oh yeah, I’ve put it in there” He points to his side of the bed as he continues with his eyes glued to his video game.

“Ok, than- Baron!” I run towards my purse, snatching it quickly from the floor “Why did you put my purse on the floor?”

“Baby, where was I suppose to put it?”

“Not on the floor! I would like to keep my money you know?!” I huffed

“And what does your purse being on the floor has to do with you keeping your money?”

“EVERYTHING! You should know that placing your purse or wallet on the floor makes your money vanish”

“WHAT? Y/N, I’m sorry but that makes zero sense princess!”

“Shut up Corbin, you know nothing!”

......................................................................

“Baron, can you get the broom for me please?” I ask as he passed by me

“Yeah, sure”

He comes back with the broom on his hand “Here, I’ll help you” As he swiped the floor

“Thank you, my love”

A few minutes after I felt the biggest fear of my life becoming true

“Oh, sorry kitten...Are you ok?”

“Baron” I whisper “Please tell me that I’m getting delusional and you didn’t swipe my feet just now”

“Yeah I did, but-“ I raised my hand for him to stop talking

“Did I do something wrong?” He asks

“Yes you did. In fact, I’m never gonna get married now thanks to you!”

“What?” He chuckled “Please don’t tell me that this is one more of your crazy superstitions?” He’s full on laughing now

“Stop laughing dumb ass! It’s not funny and you should respect those things you know?!” I say annoyed

“Whatever you say babe” He dries his tears of laughter

......................................................................

“For God’s sake what is this awful smell?” I ask to myself as I entered the living room door “Y/N?”

She didn’t answer me. I decided to go on a hunt for my own woman inside my house, when I heard some mumbling

“Y/N, what are you doing?”

“Shhhh Baron, don’t interrupt me!”

“What on earth is this cursed smell?” I ask ignoring her

“It’s sage and some herbs” She whispers

“I’ve had a bad dream, so this will keep all of the bad juju out of here!” She says

“You know that will-“ As soon as I was about to remind her of the smoke alarm the little prick showed himself

“Oh fuck! I forgot about that, damn it! Shut up you evil little thing!” She says as she steps on the couch and wave her hands at it “Baron! Don’t just stand there, do something boy! Go get me a piece of cloth of something like that!” As she frantically waves her hands to prevent the smoke from going to the alarm

......................................................................

“Good morning kitten” I lean down to peck her lips

“Good morning handsome” She smiles “Coffee?”

“Yes, please”

She fills one mug with black coffee and give it to me

“Thanks baby” I take a gulp “You know, I’ve had this crazy dream last night”

“Oh yeah? About what, love?”

“There was this monkey and a deer. I was chasing them or something, I don’t know it was just so weird” I look at Y/N to find her typing ferociously on her phone

“Is everything ok, kitten?”

“Sure babe! I’m just texting my sister to mark me some numbers at the loteria”

“Why?”

“Because of your dream Baron! The monkey and the deer. They have a number at the loteria so who knows? Maybe we’ll gain some money at it to save it up?”

“But we don’t need money” I look at her almost laughing

“Still” She raises her eyebrows

......................................................................

“Yeah?” I scream

*Is she really gonna make me go down there?* I sighed

“Yeah baby girl?” I ask as I open the door

“What?” She asks confused

“What do you want babe? You were calling me” I say

“No I wasn’t!”

“Yes you were Y/N, I was in the bedroom unpacking and I heard you clearly call for me two times”

“Baron, I swear on my mother’s life I did not called for you” She whispers, all the blood drained out from her face

“Oh, then I guess I misheard it”

“When you heard someone call for you, did you answered out loud?” She asks with fear in her eyes

“Well yeah! I thought you were the one who was calling me in the first place!”

She stood up from her office chair grabbing a small glass bottle with some water in it. She toss some of the water on her then on me

“What the fuck babe? What’s that?” I ask slightly angry

“Holy water! You heard something call for you with my voice, and you answered! Babe that is a bad omen, that means something evil is walking around here...Oh my God” She gasps in shock “Xander! We gotta bless him with some holy water too, we gotta protect him Baron! Oh no my poor baby Xander” She runs through the the hallway screaming for Xander.

Soon after she returns with Xander by her side. “He’s good now, thank God!” She reaches for her desk’s drawer again and grabbed a spray bottle “C’mon Baron, we’ve got to spray holy water in all of the doors and windows so it will scare away whatever that thing that called for you was” She lives her office again with the spray bottle in hand and a faithful Xander by her side.

God, why on earth did I decided to move in with that woman? She drives me crazy! But I would be lying if I said she wasn’t fun...

#baron corbin #baron corbin fanfic #baron corbin fanfiction #baron corbin x reader #baron corbin one shot #baron corbin imagine #king corbin #wwe one shot #wwe imagine #wwe fanfiction #masochist writes

67 notes · View notes

alice-angel12x · 3 years

Text

💗 Knight!Deku x Fragile!Reader

Medival AU

Dolls... That is All they ever saw in me. Quirks, some are a blessing, while others it's a curse. A prime example of that is the porcelain quirk.

Let me explain, the porcelain quirk doesn't appear at the age of 5. It can appear at any point in time in life. You could be 6 and it appears, or 70, and then it appears. But whenever it does appear you will remain that way forever till you die of a normal human life span. In my case, I'll look forever 17 even though I'm 25 now. The only drawback is you as fragile as porcelain, and you can break like glass. Though it is possible to be put back together, the cracks will forever remain no matter how much powder and makeup you put on.

Most noble and rich women would think It's a dream come true, but they're wrong. Anybody that has this quirk and is between 16 to 35yr old is highly valued in the black market.

There were a lot of stories I heard, of young women being stolen away from their homes. And brought here to be sold off to some noble as pretty decoration, or a way to show off their wealth, or used for their pleasures. Who wouldn't want a beautiful girl that will never grow old and ugly?

The cages were cold and lonely despite there being many of us. No one would talk to each other in fear of not knowing who would be next. I've only ever made one friend in that place. A beautiful girl named Momo. Like me, she was taken from her humble home and ended up here. Sadly she was sold away to a king Named Endeavor as a present for his youngest son. I hope she's okay.

Now I bet you're thinking, is there a way to escape such a fate, or even a way to escape at all. There are only two ways that I'm aware of. 1 the porcelain quirk either came too early or far too late. Second, if you were to get a Nik or some sort of crack, then you're automatically deemed worthless and are tossed aside. Nobody wants a cracked doll after all.

But believe me, they have ways of preventing their 'merchandise' from being damaged. -----

Argo the slave master and his goons were moving their wagon of merchandise through the forest late at night.

Inside the wagon was cramped but clean, and soft with mats, pillows, and blankets covering the floor and walls. Yet it failed to hide the barred windows and the shackles that bound their captives. All was quiet when the Wagon suddenly jolted to a stop.

"CAREFUL YOU FOOLS! You might have damaged the merchandise!" Argo yelled at his lackeys.

He quickly opened the doors to check on them. Seeing everyone was not harmed or chipped he smiled crookedly.

"Now now my pretties. Were almost at the kingdom Valmar. Where you'll be bought by new masters, behave and don't try anything funny. Then maybe I won't let my lackeys have a taste of you," Argo said as he licked his lips.

The captives shuddered at his words and tried to back farther into the wagon. Argo laughed at their obedience and slammed the doors shut.

"I-I want to go home," one girl sobbed as she slowly started to break down.

"Hey SSH! You're going to get us in trouble," a boy scolded.

I slowly blocked them out as I thought back on my life before my quirk appeared. Before this life.

"Y/n, look what mom made for me!" My dear friend Izuku called.

We were 7 years old when he showed me his first knight armor, his mother made him. He Idolized famous knights and adventurers. His favorite hero was The Lone Hero All Might. One could almost call him obsessed.

I remember all the times where we used to play out in the forest. He would be my knight in shining armor, and I would be his Princess.

"Aaah! Help me!" I cried out dramatically.

"I am here!" Izuku said with great bravery.

As he got older he was served to visit last as he went off training in a nearby Kingdom. But he always came back once a year to visit me and his family. Every time he visited, he'd always bring me back a rose. His face would be complete as he muttered incoherent things.

We never truly lost touch, cause he would always write letters to me about his day, and what he's seen. And I write letters back to him, nightly.

Then my 17th birthday. I woke up to the sun shining on my face as usual. But something felt off, my skin doesn't feel right. I quickly ran over to the Mirror and saw my face. My skin became milky white, all my sunspots and Imperfections were gone. My skin has never been this smooth. My eyes were a little larger, it really made my e/c eyes stand out more. My lips became Cherry pink, I look like a doll.

That was when I realized my curse, the porcelain quirk awakens Within Me. But I was optimistic, my mother had the porcelain quirk at 19 years old. And she was never stolen or captured by anyone. And my father protected her with all his heart, so I put those fears aside. When I revealed my transformation to my parents, they were shocked and slightly afraid. But the Embraced me I told me I will be okay and I will be protected.

When Izuku returned for my birthday his reaction was priceless. His face became cherry red, and he always tripped over his words. Eventually, he mustered up the courage to tell me I was the most beautiful lady he ever saw. And that when he became an official knight he'll make sure I'll never have to live my life in fear. I never felt so happy in my life, as a pulled him into a passionate kiss.

It happened a few months later. My family and Izuku were relaxing in the living room when suddenly there was a knock at the door. My father thought it was the Milkman so he decided to answer the door But was greeted with a knife to the stomach. Panic rushed over me and my mother, as we saw at 3 muscly looking men entering our house. Then a fourth Man came the slave leader, Argo.

Izuku still a knight in training pulled his sword out of its sheath and got into a defensive position. He stood between the men and us.

He tried to fight them off, Izuku did put up a pretty good and long fight. Until eventually lost due to being out numbered. They pushed Izuku to the ground, tied his hands behind his back, and quickly gagged him with a piece of cloth.

"Know, ladies.. we can do this the easy way or the hard way. Either hand yourselves over to us and the boy lives, or we've beheaded this boy and take you by force," Argo said as he sat on Izuku's back and putting a knight near Izuku's throat.

"NO!" I cried out as my mother held me back.

"HHMPH!!" Izuku tried to cry out through the gag to me.

"Don't Hurt Him," I begged.

"So what's it gonna be ladies the boy or you," Argo said with a twisted smile.

I began to tremble in fear as I looked at Izuku. He quickly shakes his head no, trying to tell us to not surrender ourselves to them as tears welled up in his eyes.

"We're sorry Izuku," I sobbed in defeat.

My mother and I step forward and were quickly chained up. Argo holding our leashes.

"NNNMPH! HHMMPH!" Izuku cried out as he tried to free himself from his bindings. Glaring daggers at Argo looked us over lustfully.

Very quickly we were forced into the wagon and that was the last time I ever saw our house and Izuku.

The wagon was ready to move until a voice called out from the darkness.

"HALT, EVIL SCUM!! IN THE NAME OF OUR KING GRAND TORINO, YOUR VILE ACT OF TRAFFICKING ARE OVER!!" Said a knight checked out and silver armor riding a brown horse.

Argo laughed at the lone knight.

"Oh yeah, you and what army," Argo chuckled.

Suddenly there is more light in the Darkness, it appeared to surround Wagon in all directions. From the darkness, an army of knights stepped out some on foot, others on horseback.

" surrender immediately!" Shouted another knight, this on a white horse.

"What are you fools looking at, ATTACK!" Argo shouted.

It was hard to tell what was happening outside, as everyone heard the fight happening outside. The scuffle lasted for a pretty long time, but eventually the struggling settle down. Everyone sat in silence as they waited, not knowing what's going to happen.

Suddenly the wagon door opened revealing a man in knight's armor. He had blue hair and rectangular glasses.

"Don't worry we're here to rescue you," he informed us.

Slowly but surely everyone was escorted off the wagon, one by one we were unchained. I was the last one to be unchained as I approached the knight with the keys, I heard a faint gasp.

"Y-y/n!" The knight shouted as he pulled me into a gentle yet strong hug.

I look at the knight in confusion as I watch him remove his helmet. Revealing My childhood friend Izuku. He definitely aged and grew over the last 8 years. I felt a little self-conscious, because of how short and young I looked compared to him. He was taller and looked more mature and looked so handsome.

"I finally found you, I found you y/n" has said as he pulled me into another hug.

"I-Izuku, I- I was so scared," I sobbed into his chest.

"I'm here now. And this time I'll keep you safe," Izuku whispered in my ear.

I kissed his cheek softly, as I hugged him. Izuku picked me up bridal style and placed me on his horse. He quickly pulled himself on the horse. As the other knights escorted the others to the kingdom. Izuku and I decided to return home instead.

#mediveal #mha x reader #mha deku #mha fantasy au #izuku mydoria #izuku x reader

54 notes · View notes

sleepmusicland-1 · 3 years

Text

Gone Chapter 4

Ella POV:

For 4 months now I was already in New Orleans, the De La Crux circle was more dangerous than I would have thought. They acted in secret, used the other circles to get their way and, above all, they acted against Mikaelsons. Something that had already cost many witches his life.

Something that had amazed me was that no one, neither Isabella nor her members in the circle seemed to have been touched by the fact that someone had died. Murdered, only by whom was not clear.

For exactly 2 months I lived in a small apartment, on the edge of the French Quater, why the witches left me alone, although I supposedly played such an important role that their ancestors had torn me out of my life, was a mystery to me.

But one thing I could do undisturbed, both on the Internet and in the library, looking for information about what an Earth angel was and what my gift had to do with it, because since I was here, I kept encountering deceased souls and could also feel the presence of other people, vampires, werewolves and witches, I knew exactly who was near me. Even though I did not know these people, I knew when it was a human being and when it was not.

The scent of old books struck me as I entered the library, Getrud, an 80-year-old who had made her love of books her profession, greeted me with a cheerful "good morning" and informed immediately afterwards how my day had been so far.

I had to get used to communicating with someone in my mother tongue, because when I was still living in my own world, I had only spoken Dutch, simply because there was no one with whom I could have German spoken and then I often had to speak English, because the companies I had worked for often had English as the only official language.

But Gertrud was simply happy that she could talk to someone in her mother tongue and so I had learned early on that she knew about the supernatural and was one of the few people who had never gotten between the fronts. Because no one bothered to ask the librarian what she knew and she knew a lot. But in my search for the meaning of the earth angel, she could not help me either.

Gertrud wished me "good luck" before she turned to her work, although more and more people no longer borrow books, the library was still received by a sponsor. She had told me this right when I first came here, and she was so proud of her library, the treasures that were just waiting to be discovered in it.

"Thank you", I thanked her and entered the library myself.

The room itself was large, on both sides’ shelves upon shelves, full of books of all kinds, the smell of old books, dust and for me knowledge was in the air. Ever since Isabella decided to find out more about Earth's Angels before she wanted to start the ominous training, which I still did not know what the training meant, it gave me time to find out how I got here and how to get back to my old life, because I was not satisfied with one that Isabella claimed I could not go back.

I did not believe her, I would tell myself about the same thing in her place, in order to prevent people from trying to get back home.

I had just walked between two books shelves as my neck hairs lined up, the tingling that normally crept from my neck over my back started this time on my stone leg and goose bumps told me that I was no longer alone, but it was not a spirit, it was a supernatural being.

How did I know it was supernatural beings and not a spirit? I had no idea; it was as if my gut feeling had improved so much since I was here that I had developed a radar for supernatural beings and spirits.

Said supernatural being in this was Marcel Gerard, one of Isabella's allies, and even though he did not know where I came from and what I seemed to be, he had not even tried to get to know me better, as if it was enough for him that Isabella had said that I was important for her plan, whatever that plan was.

Because she had not told me that, I was supposedly the key to making an old prophecy come true, but how exactly she planned to prevent it was a mystery to me.

"Ella, right?" he spoke to me and seemed to let his charm play, maybe even worked for other women, but I was not like other women, like cliché, that sounded too. As an asexual person, it was not easy anyway.

"Yes?" I answered questioningly and did not expect an honest answer, but only an excuse why he was here.

"Someone wants to get to know you and he has a few questions, questions that Isabella does not want to answer", he answered me, immediately my neck hairs lined up, this someone wanted information from me. Maybe he even wanted to know where I came from.

And I could not say that I came from another world, where this was a series. That sounded stupid even to my ears, even if in my case, it was reality.

"Who is this someone?" I asked, I would certainly not go anywhere to meet some mysterious person who had questions that Isabella did not want to answer.

"Ever heard of Elijah Mikaelson?" Marcel informed himself and I somehow managed not to let my heartbeat beat treacherously faster than I heard Elijah's name. I still couldn't believe that the version I had seen on the show wasn't the same one I had come to know for a moment months ago. "Don't tell me anything, I'm not very good at remembering names," I answered him and that wasn't a lie. It took me several weeks from time to time until I could assign the names of the respective persons to their face and remember it.

"Don't worry, he just wants to ask a few questions, nothing more if you would please follow me?" Marcel asked me in a tone that did not tolerate any contradiction.

Elijah POV:

Marcellus took the young woman I had met in the cemetery a few months ago to the arranged meeting place, an old, abandoned church, where I could be surethatnone of the witches would eardrop on us.

I watched her body language, she appeared consciously confident and did not let herself be intimidated by her surroundings, she looked around and when her gaze fell on me, she seemed to recognize me again.

"What do they want?" she informed after the reason why she was here, no greeting, she got straight to the point. "Normally one greets his interlocutor" I answered her, where I did not miss that Marcellus was amused, since she did not adhere to the customs.

"Normally you don't get ordered to a conversation like they did," she contradicted me and slapped her arms on top of each other.

Either Isabella had not told her who she was dealing with, or she was one of those people who did not let themselves be intimidated by vampires, which in my eyes was not only incredibly stupid, but also dangerous.

"On the one hand, I would like to know where they come from, because they are not American," I answered her and she looked at me with her head tilted to the left, „The country where I lived or the country where I was born? Even then they don't get the answer they seem to be looking for, because my nationality is and will always be, Dutchwoman", she answered me, she was born in a different country than where she lived now? Where did it come from? What had Isabella done? The slight undertone of bitterness had not escaped me.

"May I guess that they were born in Germany?" I informed myself and Ella looked at me, "Because I have such a strong German accent?" she indirectly confirmed my suspicion that she had been born in Germany, to which Marcellus replied that he had German heard her talking to a few German tourists and that she had no accent, which made him suspect that it was either her mother tongue, or that she had lived in Germany.

And with that, she now knew that I had let her observe, but I did not know a detail of Marcellus's connection to Isabella at the time.

"Because I speak accent-free German, am I automatically born in Germany?" she asked and looked at me from Marcellus.

"This is actually the only explanation, because according to my contacts, they do not have a social insurance number, nor other documents to confirm their identity," I replied to her statement and observed her reaction, her heartbeat was calm, no signs that she was surprised by my statement or the fact that there was no documentation about the woman in front of me.

"The only explanation? I can think of ten other possibilities", she contradicted me, I was honestly amazed at how often she contradicted me and showed no fear.

"But why am I here? Why am I being executed here?" she added, and it amazed me how good her pronunciation was, because she had indirectly confirmed that English was not her mother tongue.

But I did not let this be noticed, a sign of weakness and your counterpart took advantage of it for their own goals. "I want to know what exactly Isabella is up to, especially because when I first found her near the Bone Mausoleum, the mausoleum that is only used for the witches of New Orleans when it is very important," I explained to her the reason why I had ordered her and commissioned Marcellus to bring her here.

"And I should know why? Ask Isabella herself, I'm not a witch and I have no idea what the meaning of whatever mausoleums have, which as you yourself have already noted, I don't come from here, so how am I supposed to know what exactly any mausoleum has for a meaning", Ella answered me and for the first time I noticed that she was wearing a chain, she was wearing several pendants on a black string, but I could not see which pendants they were.

For the moment I pushed my observation aside, there were more important things, especially because Ella really did not seem to know what Isabella had used the bone mausoleum for.

"Can I leave now? Or do they want to know more?" Ella hinged slightly annoyed, her attitude had changed, instead of standing bored leaning against one of the old banks, she stood upright, and her attitude revealed that she perceived something, we were no longer alone.

Could it be that she was paranormally gifted? That would be the only explanation, because their attitude had changed and not only, I noticed the change, Marcellus had also noticed the change.

A click echoed deafeningly loudly through the old, abandoned building, for vampire ears it sounded noticeably clear and loud in the ears, for people ears it was not audible.

I would learn more about the mysterious woman very soon and discover an old secret...

#elijah mikaelson #elijah mikaelson imagine #elijah mikaelson fanfiction #the originals #Gone fanfiction #elijah mikaelson x oc #chapter 4

10 notes · View notes

elliemarchetti · 3 years

Text

The Most Beautiful and Golden of the Cages

Nobody cares, but I like it, so bear with me and accept this fourth chapter of my Haldir x half-elf fem!OC fic.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Words: 2677

For the first time since they had left Rivendell, her rest wasn’t disturbed by dreams or noises, and she opened her eyes again only the next morning, when Gimli knocked on the door to make sure she was okay. The days passed almost all the same, each moment illuminated by a clear sun, except when a drizzle fell, leaving everything fresh and clean. The air was sweet and mild, as if it was tender spring, yet everyone felt around them the deep and thoughtful stillness of winter. Even the attentions of Haldir, who at the behest of the Lady hadn’t returned to his usual task, gave her the same feeling: his smile was mild and his actions sweet, but his deep eyes let it be seen that something was troubling the quiet in his thoughts, and even while they ate and drank there was no lightheartedness in his gestures, as if only among the trees and the constant danger he really felt at home. Elva decided it was time to face the conversation in the only moment they had alone, that was before going to rest.

“If you wish to go back to your brothers and mansion, we can sleep with the rest of the Fellowship, there is no need for you to stay any longer in a house you certainly don’t love.”

Her words seemed to take him by surprise, and for a moment she feared he would take refuge in his room without giving any answer.

“To be your guide, even now we’re within the city walls, is a great honour, especially when your mission is so noble,” he replied, always with tender courtesy. He had praise and beautiful words to dedicate to her, but his gaze never rested too long on her figure, nor did their hands touched after they entered the gates.

“Yet you don’t seem satisfied,” she insisted, hoping not to be too intrusive, even though her mere presence within the talan told another story.

“Maybe I'm just unaccustomed to city life: I’ve lived in the woods for a long time now, and although I’m the only one in the family who travels to distant lands, I don’t like to sleep in a soft bed when my brothers face great risks every day,” he admitted, finally, and the subject was no longer brought up, but the next evening, as they were walking together in the cool twilight, silence fell again. They had both felt restless for the whole afternoon, unable to face the shadow of parting, but Elva knew it was something they had to address, mostly because they were going to give up each other’s reassurance for probably a violent fate.

“It’s wonderfully quiet here,” she commented, determined not to start too brutally. “Nothing seems to be going on, and nobody seems to want it to.”

“It’s the Lady’s magic,” he explained, in a neutral tone. “You can’t touch it, but I’m sure you can see and feel it everywhere.”

He was right, but the thing that struck her most was the latent intolerance he expressed toward the land he swore to protect, for which he could also have died at the hands of an Orc while patrolling, or perhaps it was directed to those who commanded it, but Elva didn’t dare to ask, mindful of Legolas’ words about Mirkwood. It’s the most beautiful and golden of the cages, but in the end, it still remains a cage, he said, during a full moon night, to explain to her what drove him to continually piss off his father and get away from his duties as heir to the throne. Even the excessive beauty of Lothlorien reminded her of home, where the benevolence shown hid the trap of a cunning king.

“I don’t think you can do much more to help us, magic or not,” she finally admitted, for the first time aloud. Until that moment, she had kept it in her thoughts, fearing it might become real, but now she knew she must accept it and go on.

“Before you go, you’ll have to see the Lady one more time,” he explained, and as if she had heard him, Galadriel appeared from a lawn, tall, white and fair, silently beckoning them to follow her toward the southern slopes of Caras Galadhon’s hill, where, crossing a green hedge, they entered a garden without trees, which opened to the clear sky where the first stars, glowing with white fire on the western woods, could be seen. The Lady descended a long staircase that led into a deep hollow, crossed by the murmuring stream that gushed from the fountain on the hill, creating a low and shallow silver basin, next to which was a silver jug. With water from the stream, Galadriel filled to the brim a tub with a pedestal carved like a leafy tree.

“This is my Mirror,” she said, in that distant, ancient voice. “I brought you here so you can look at yourself, if you wish.”

“What do I have to look for?” Elva asked, watching full of wonder the pale elf. She wasn’t deluded, probably that place would be or had already been shown to all the other travellers, but at the moment she felt important, as if the Mirror could reveal to her something it had kept silent even to its owner.

“What you wish to see, if that’s what you desire,” replied the Lady. “But the Mirror can also spontaneously show images of things that were, are and still must be, which are often strange and useful. Do you want to watch?”

The half-elf didn’t answer right away: she would’ve liked to know what was happening at home, to her friends and her king, but she was afraid she would only see the reflection of the stars, or something she wouldn’t be able to understand.

“Remember, the Mirror is a dangerous guide, as it shows many things and not all of them have already occurred, while some will never happen, if only who saw didn’t abandon their way to prevent them,” Galadriel warned her.

“I don’t think you’re advising me to look, but rather to see something,” Elva replied. No one in Mirkwood spoke in riddles, but Haldir’s ignorance about the High Elves harbours and all the ceremoniousness of their meeting with the Lord and the Lady led her to assume those elves were no more like them than the dwarves for the hobbits.

“Seeing is at the same time good and dangerous, yet I believe you have guts and wisdom enough to take the risk, otherwise you wouldn’t have revealed to your guide what my spouse and I have been hiding from our people for a long time,” replied the woman, but without any trace of the annoyance or anger she might’ve expected facing the topic. Of course it wasn’t necessary to ask her how she knew, but was she telling that her words had a positive influence on Haldir? She didn’t have the courage to turn to look at her companion’s face to find out, yet, she felt like she needed to dodge even the powerful woman’s gaze, who didn’t need to read her mind anyway to know what she was thinking.

“So, do you wish to look?” she insisted, when faced only with silence.

The marchwarden hadn’t spoke a word for the whole time, and although Elva would’ve preferred for him, who knew the Lady more thoroughly, to advise her, she decided on her own to have a peep, even if it seemed unsafe to be too close to Galadriel’s magic. Without touching the dark water, she leaned over the basin, and as if a veil had been instantly withdrawn, the Mirror grew grey and then clear, to show her the sun shining and trees branches waving and tossing in the wind, golden leaf falling way sooner than the spring buds blossom. Before she could make up her mind, the autumn light faded, and she saw Haldir, dying in her arms with many of his race around him. They were both covered in red and black blood, and she almost thought she could smell the stench of death in her nostrils, mixed with something that reminded her of wet soil, sweat and leather. His lips barely moved, but he told her to go ahead, and take care of his brothers. Without thinking, she looked away to meet his blue eyes, full of concern but at the same time as attractive as a clear sea on a hot summer day. As in a dream, she returned to his side, but everything was too strange and unreal to resist the urge she felt of touching him, a light peck on his hand just to be sure what was happening wasn’t yet another one of Galadriel’s mental games. His skin was warm, not dry with sweat as in the Mirror’s vision, but as soon as she reached out, he held her tightly, as if afraid she might fly away in the stagnant air and never come back. Obviously, the Lady hadn’t missed the whole scene, and when she asked her subject if he wanted to look too, the tone of her words had changed slightly, although Elva couldn’t understand if for the better or the worse.

“Do you advise me to do so?” he asked, but the woman answered with the umpteenth riddle, and the decision became only his. Very slowly, she felt the grip on her hand loosen, and for a moment, everything was suspended, superfluous, their barely touching fingers the only important thing. The separation was almost painful, and it seemed to Elva that between her and the elf, gazing so skilfully into the Mirror’s depth she supposed he had already done it, there were whole kingdoms and not just a dozen steps. If Lorien was apparently frozen in time, that place, like everything surrounding the Lady, seemed suspended above the laws of nature, beautiful and at the same time terrifying. Over time, she had learned that under too much perfection there was always something corrupt, something rotten, a secret to hide, perhaps in the shape of a chain mail sneaked under a tunic, or a ring delicately mixed with other shiny jewellery, slipped on a pale, slender finger. No description could ever match the wonder of seeing Nenya in person. The Ring of Adamant glittered like polished gold overlaid with silver light, and its white stone twinkled as if Earendil, the Evening Star, most beloved of the Elves, had come down to rest upon the bearer’s hand, making her suspicions therefore correct: the Galadhrim had deliberately and conveniently avoided mentioning that Galadriel was the keeper of one of the three elven rings, hence they couldn’t be trusted.

“Let what has to happen, happen,” the Lady murmured when Haldir finished his dose of horrors too, so softly that Elva almost feared she had imagined it. “You’re not responsible for Lorien’s fate, but only for the fulfilment of your mission.”

“You’re wise and fearless and fair, Lady Galadriel,” he answered, but before Elva could turn to look at her, and inquire what she meant by those words, she found only the marchwarden, the lights dying quickly and the magic of that place drained by the elf’s absence. Unable to confront with someone, for fear that the woman and her spouse might find out, she decided to remain silent and act as if nothing had happened, even though she was dying to pester Haldir with questions about both Lothlorien’s ruler and his attitude towards them, reverential and accommodating but far from the spell the couple seemed to cast on the rest of their subject, and what he had seen in the Mirror. The Lady hadn’t in itself forbidden them to tell each other what the Mirror had decided to reveal, but even just touching the question would’ve led her guest to ask her what she had glimpsed in its depths, and she wasn’t sure she could admit that he, and his death, were the backbone of the longest, and simplest to interpret, if it could be said, of the two narratives, of which there would be no time to speak anyway, as the Fellowship was again summoned to the chamber of Celeborn, where the Lord and Lady greeted them with kind words. At length they spoke of the departure and Galadriel confirmed that they all intended to continue, providing them with boats, which would allow the crossing of the Great River.

"Even if you haven't decided your path yet, Haldir will take you wherever you want, as he’s a skilled captain and we can do nothing more to help," the woman concluded, casting a long look at Elva, weighing her reaction. For she was a good diplomat, the half-elf tried to keep her expression neutral, but Gimli’s curiosity about that silent exchange was of no help, while Aragorn was luckily too distracted by the gift to care.

“All shall be prepared at the haven before noon tomorrow,” added Celeborn. “I’ll send my people in the morning to help you make ready for the journey, but now we’ll wish you all a fair night and untroubled sleep.”

The whole Fellowship, plus its temporary new member, took their leave and returned to the pavilion to take counsel together; for a long time they debated what they should do, and how it would be best to attempt the fulfilling of their purpose with the Ring, but they came to no decision, even if it was plain that most of them desired to go first to Minas Tirith, and to escape at least for a while from the terror of the Enemy. Some would’ve been willing to follow a leader over the River and into the shadow of Mordor, but Frodo spoke no word, and Aragorn was still divided in his mind, therefore Elva remained neutral, as she seemed to understand Gandalf wished before his early death. Admitting that he would never return still gave a strange feeling, above all because an inestimable number of mysteries would remain unsolved, and so many questions would remain unanswered, but by now she believed she had accepted it, the emptiness in her heart slowly filling up with a new and different feeling, which she had neither the time nor the energy to analyze, mostly because it would’ve been of no use, since, although she couldn’t yet know when, Haldir would still have to turn his back on them to return to the patrols in the woods with his brothers.

“I shall go to Minas Tirith, alone if need be, for it is my duty,” said Boromir, and after that he was silent for a while, sitting with his eyes fixed on Frodo, as if he was trying to read the Halfling’s thoughts like the Lady had done in their first meeting. Only at length he spoke again, so softly he was probably debating with himself: “If you wish only to destroy the Ring, then there’s little use in war and weapons, and the Men of Minas Tirith cannot help, but if you wish to destroy the armed might of the Dark Lord, then it is folly to go without force into his domain, and folly to throw away,” he said, before pausing suddenly, as if he had become aware that he was speaking his thoughts aloud.

“It would be folly to throw lives away, I mean,” he added. “It’s a choice between defending a strong place and walking openly into the arms of death, or at least, that’s how I see it.”

Elva hardly heard the last justification, too busy reliving a memory of the council, during which he had already expressed a thought of that kind. She looked at Haldir, but the elf seemed deep in his own thought and made no sign that he had heeded Boromir’s words, so their debate ended and those who would have slept in the talan took their leave for the last time, while the night grew old and dark on Caras Galadhon, maybe darker than ever.

#haldir x fem oc #lotr fic #haldir of lothlorien #galadriel #gimli son of gloin #celeborn #aragorn #legolas greenleaf #gandalf the grey #boromir #frodo baggins #half elf oc

11 notes · View notes

withpromise · 3 years

Photo

the fallen house du sel

a close-knit family who love each other very much & have varying ideas of what a simple life well lived means.

cereus du sel · retired warrior from the city watch. his father, cedar, was vice captain of the daybreak knights who attempted to rise above the ranks by killing the captain at the time leading to the fall of house du sel. due to that, cereus has gained a particular perspective about ambition, telling his children that a simple life lived well was enough. loves his family dearly & is an unbearable worrywart, always fussing over people as they leave the house & badgering them to layer up.

poppy du sel · retired cleric of the dawnfather. formerly of the slayer’s take & had a has slain many, many beasts & monsters which has filled her childrens’ eyes up with adventure. she is the most active voice against hollyhock’s crime & rumours. she was very close to breaking her daughter out herself when she found an empty�� cell, already having been too late to prevent the deal from happening.

hollyhock du sel · the eldest & heiress apparent, through there’s nothing really to inherit. older than her siblings by a margin, she has always taken her position as the eldest very seriously. she did have some dreams about changing her family name, but that was quickly shattered. currently under a magic contract with riddick skyward & his working very hard to find a loophole that will allow her to kill him. insists that she’s not a good person, but has yet to turn down any quest a wayward citizen has thrown at her no matter how ( seemingly ) mundane.

valerian du sel · currently a battle smith artificer. he had actually been the one who enchanted hollyhock’s sword & is the only one who knows about the truth about her ‘ employment ’ under riddick. he’s frantically looking for a way to break it without causing harm to hollyhock as well as dodging any of riddick’s spies & assassins who have the du sels under tight watch. he’s very bright & quick on the uptake & is very charismatic. he & hollyhock used to run scams together when they were children.

sorrel du sel · currently a scout rogue. the older twin by just a handful of minutes. completely separate from hollyhock & valerian’s own machinations, he also has plans to kill riddick. after the trial & the rumours floating around, he’s taken to training himself up in order to be able to enact his plans. known to be the most rambunctious of the du sels, he likes to break of on his own & explore the surrounding region by the utespire mountains. he has an uncanny ability to be in the wrong place at the wrong time & usually drags celandine with him.

celandine du sel · currently an inquisitive rogue. the younger twin & doesn’t really care about it, but plays it up because the game makes sorrel laugh. ever since hollyhock’s trial & averted execution, he’s taken to studying law & usually has a very serious demeanour. may have accidentally inquisit’ed himself into discovering a surprise cult worshipping the chained oblivion under the city, but he’s dealing with it. he feels very burdened by that knowledge & really wants no part. he’s the only kid to actually take cereus’ caution against ambition to heart & wants to live a peaceful life, but that’s not quite possible right now.

#hollyhock. relevant #house du sel.#was too lazy to edit but the twins' hair is actually a lighter brown #and cereus & poppy's hair have grey streaks. cereus more so #monsterslayin' is in their blood kjsahdkjasd #i just. really like how holly is kind of like ? i dont know if muscle head is the term #but she loves to fight and loves the adrenaline and the rush and the feel of fighting against monsters #not even for any alruistic reasons. she just like fighting !#also im just really love the brothers #they love holly SO MCUH #everyone in this family loves each other it's fantastic #also celandine having high perception and being so angry about it........peak #and i love cereus like......a peaceful life is good #*looks at what his family is currently*#cereus vc: this is fine #tbf the entire situation with hollyhock only gave them an excuse. they were probably going to go down similar paths even if holly #had never been swept up in the chain of events she did #long /

4 notes · View notes

sinnhelmingr · 3 years

Text

What is Hel’s relationship like with her siblings? What does she miss most about them? What does she dislike? // @eynsavalow

For the most part I would say Hel’s relationship among her brothers is... good? Good. There’s no interpersonal problems, even if she does struggle with the circumstances surrounding her relationships with them. Hel is her own worst enemy, and the impediment between herself and bonding with others, after all.

Also for the sake of this ask I’m just covering the myth-canonical, usually panfandom brothers rather than any oc or setting-specific siblings. I adore all the fankids, ocs, and fandom-specific children of Loki, but I am also terrified of forgetting anyone and making people feel bad so I’m just covering the main squad of Sleipnir, Fenrir, Jormungandr, Vali, and Nar(v/f)i. Just assume Hel loves any siblings outside of these five even if she’s an awkward sort of reserved sibling at times.

(This is so long. This is so very long. Abandon hope all ye who click read more.)

In my lore, Hel is the youngest of Loki’s children with Angrboda, the baby of the bunch and only daughter. First was Fenrir, and then Jormungandr, and Hel grew up as their little tagalong and pestilence depending on the situation.

Her relationship with Fenrir was always especially layered, fraught with sibling rivalry spiraling out of proud eldest son vs spoiled only daughter discord. They butted heads often once their personalities really took shape. They easily forgot how baby Hel had been rather attached to her oldest brother, and Fenrir in turn patient with ‘the baby,’ despite how she pulled his fur a little when toddling alongside him. Hel would spite Fenrir, or he would tease her, and within minutes their parents often had to pull the two apart before it turned into a brawl. The pair warmed to one another slightly upon moving to Asgard in their youth, united as outsiders against the majority, but still had a certain antagonism towards one another. Over time, the pair showed signs of getting over it and instead using their barbs more softly, evolving into a form of affection than actual meanness.

This development was blighted, however, upon their casting out and separation. Hel never knew what became of Fenrir until adulthood, and found him bound and mad. She’s not sought him out since, unable to face what he became. She’s long since learned to miss that however much her brother teased her, he was always looking out for her, always protecting her from others. She doesn’t, however, miss the antagonism they unleashed upon one another just for something to do, even if she laments never knowing how they might have gotten over it.

Jormungandr is the full sibling that Hel was closest to in her childhood, as both were more mild-mannered compared to the boisterous wolf cub. Their relationship is encapsulated by the image of a young Hel sitting with a borrowed book, ‘Jori’ twining around her and following along as she sounded out the words for him. He was a constant companion, confidant, and best friend in her youth. The two especially came to rely upon one another in Asgard, where the two would find quiet places for cuddling and comfort. The thoughtful Jori often proved a voice of reason for his more rambunctious kid sister, and Hel in turn proved capable of calming the serpent during bouts of anxiety. The two were as close as siblings could be, and many of Hel’s happiest memories involve her older brother.

It’s facts like that which make Jormungandr’s loss cut Hel so deeply. Jormungandr was the first cast out, and Hel had to watch his final descent, unable to move or even react in the moment. Despite repeat attempts to call out to him, standing along coastlines and seeking some clue as to where she might find him in the depths, he appears either incapable or unwilling to have a reunion throughout most of history. She misses the easy affinity she had with him, how they simply clicked, and knows if they had maintained contact then their burdens might have been easier to bear. She’s reluctant to admit it, but she’s somewhat grateful she doesn’t have to be a personal heater half the year these days.

Now we get into the matter of her half-siblings: Sleipnir, an older brother, and Vali and Narvi, her younger brothers. Hel has regular contact with all of them, some more closely than others, but she still clings to them and would protect them from anything -- a task she already ‘failed at’ in her own mind in two cases.

Sleipnir was a later development of Hel’s youth. She always knew Loki had another child somewhere, but never had a chance to meet him until the move. As a horse girl and a baby sister, she was positively thrilled to meet her brother the horse. She would fritter away hours in the stables, chatting to the steed and tending to his hair, sneaking him snacks that he enjoyed while he offered affectionate nuzzles and a sympathetic ear. He was the first sibling she reunited with after her exile, and on her first return visit to Asgard found herself sobbing and clinging to his neck, ashamed at her own weakness but desperately needing to hold on to the one family she had left. While both are chained to Odin, they are both alive and able to traverse realms, which puts them in a better situation than their brothers. Hel often sneaks away from events in her uncle’s hall to spend time with Sleipnir, who does not mind the company and makes a perfect excuse to dip out of such events. He loves enabling these moments where his sister is more a person than a queen, to be honest.

Their relationship is great, and unburdened by Hel’s crushing sense of guilt about the rest of her family. They simply hang out from time to time and have maintained a healthy, mutual love and respect for one another. Hel admires Sleipnir’s resilience and mischievous streak, which has been apparent since the day she met him. She just wishes he wouldn’t still treat her like a delicate child now that she’s a grown woman, but he’s still just as tender and gentle as he was at the start.

Vali and Narvi probably have the most complicated dynamic with Hel, and that’s coming from her end rather than theirs. It’s very hard to talk about the two as anything but a single entity given Hel’s role in their lives and eventual afterlives. Hel had precious little opportunity (in my personal, non-partner driven lore) to meet the two growing up, and only knew of their existence through Odin’s manipulations. Her uncle presented it as Loki having moved on and had non-monstrous children with his second wife, a fact that Hel rejoiced in. If Sigyn’s sons were not monsters, she thought they could not be hurt as Angrboda’s children had been.

She was wrong, of course, as the Aesir’s revenge against Loki proved. One brother died that day, and the agent of such tragedy followed soon after. Both boys passsed into Hel’s hall, dying vaingloriously or as a kinslayer respectively, and she mourned them. More than that, she has always considered it her fault the boys died, reasoning if she had put aside her own need for revenge and spared Baldr that Odin might have spared Loki’s sons in turn. Still, she took the pair in, made them princes of her realm, raised and loved them as she thought Sigyn might. Her relationship with them is somewhat detached given her own guilt, but they want for nothing and the boys know if they need her, Hel will always there for them. Even if she can’t understand it herself, they love her deeply, and she’s named them her heirs in the event anything should prevent her from ruling her realm. They are her brothers, true, but she’s brought them up as her own, seen them grow into fine men who are far better adjusted to their tragedy than Hel is with her own. In turn, they bring some brightness to her life, trying to win smiles from their dour, reserved sister.

#ask #he opened his mouth on judgment day [FENRIR]#no hope in the water [JORMUNGANDR]#every little boy is so naive [VALI]#calling for you into the black [NARVI]#sleipnirtbt #they can't get into my head [HEADCANON]#we need never feel alone [QUEUE]#eynsavalow

2 notes · View notes

fluffyvillain · 4 years

Text

The Bond

Chapter: 8/?

Summary: First date, first kiss, first other things ;)

Pairing: Henry Cavill/OFC

Warnings: SMUT

@ly–canthrope @vikingsbifrost @peakygroupie @winchwm @thethirstyarchive

A/N: This chapter is longish and smutty. I don’t really think that I’m good at writing smut, but I still occasionally try doing it because smut is love, smut is life. Smutty part was inspired by this ⬇️

Mila drove a rented Vespa, which was her mean of transportation while she was staying in Italy, to Henry's hotel. It took only about a minute of driving up the hill to see his smiling face waiting for her by the road. He was waiting for her in a pair of jeans and a crisp white shirt with arms crossed across his chest. Why does he always look so good? Her eyes wandered over his body before she came to a full stop. "Hey. Hop on, you have a helmet in the basket there in the back."

Henry thought he would get to kiss Mila once she arrived, at least on the cheek, but it never occurred to him that she would be coming on a Vespa, with a helmet on, ruining his plan. Although, she did look darn cute on that old fashioned Vespa in a white floral dress. "Isn't this a little too small for the both of us?"

"Maybe you'll have to squeeze a little bit, but it will only take us 10 minutes to reach our destination." She watched Henry as he approached the back of the Vespa so he could put on the helmet. Once he was done, he pulled out a strand oh Mila's hair that was stuck under the chain of her purse. "Thank you." He climbed up and hugged her tightly, pressing his stomach on her back and her body shivered as his thumb grazed her breast. "You have hand holder on the sides."

"I'm fine like this, thank you." He put his head in the crook of her neck. "You smell wonderful."

Mila took her hand of the brake and ran it over his forearm and it made him hug her tighter. "Thanks, so do you."

"Where are you taking me?" Henry hoped his mind wouldn't wander in a wrong direction and cause his dick to go hard.

Mila started the Vespa and got back on the road. "Up to the village, there's a music festival."

"Sounds great." Henry watched over Mila's shoulder her thighs being pressed against his.

Juts like Mila said, it took them 10 minutes to reach the village which was already crowded. A small stage was set in the middle of the village and one of the bands was already playing. On the edges of the main square, a bunch of vendors were selling their goods on the stands. Henry thought that this had be an important event as people all ages were scattered across the streets.

This wasn't Mila's first time at this festival, so she mostly focused on Henry and him soaking in his surroundings. "Let's go get some pizza."

"Sure." Henry followed Mila's lead, watching the contour of her ass under her dress, he was sure it would feel amazing in his hands.

"Can I choose? It'll be good, I promise." She suddenly turned around, catching Henry staring at her butt and she loved how he blushed at being caught red handed.

Henry thought about apologizing, but when he saw her biting her lower lip, he flashed her a smile. "Sure. You took me on a date, I believe I'm in good hands."

Mila ordered two slices of prosciutto pizza and threatened to leave when Henry wouldn't let her pay, so he gave up. "Let's go there," Mila pointed to a low wall, not so well lit and not with many people passing it by. She set on it, straddling it, one foot on the floor, while other one dangled above the abyss surrounding the hill.

Henry mimicked her, sitting so their knees on the side of the floor touched. Mila waited for him to take the first bite and once he did, his eyes widened. "This is," he took another bite, speaking with his now full mouth, "the best pizza I've ever tried. This dough was made of a piece of heaven."

"Told you," Mila dug in too.

"I want to know more about you, scratch that, I want to know everything about you. I know some things, but I want to know more." Henry couldn't stop eating.

Mila started talking between bites. "I'm an only child. I was born in New York, my parents died in a car crash when I was 5." Even though Henry knew that, it sounded so much more real when he heard it coming from her. He covered her hand with his on the wall between them. "That was a long time ago, I learned how to live with it. My aunt Rose and her husband raised me, I have two unbearable idiot twin cousins and I adore them and my mom's father is the reasons I'm into hospitality. He made an empire with his 10 fingers and a lot of hard work and effort. I moved back into my parent's house when I started University and I've lived alone ever since. What else? I have a PhD, I love reading, binge watching TV shows, swimming. Anything else you want to know?"

"Wow, you have a PhD?" Henry was listening carefully, but couldn't stop eating until he finished his slice completely.

"I do, I started dragging it, I honestly thought I would never finish it, but then the thing with you happened and it writing it helped me take my mind off you."

There wasn't any bitterness in her voice, but Henry still felt the need to apologize. "You have no idea how sorry I am."

"It's in the past now," and she honestly thought at that moment that it was. "I want to know more about you too, even though I did Google you."

"I don't know what you read, but not everything is true. I was born in Britain, Jersey. I have four brothers."

"Your poor mom." Mila glanced at his hand which was still on top of hers, it was so much larger than hers.

"We used to drive her crazy, we still do when we're together. I love playing video games, I'm a nerd. I've always wanted to become and actor, I didn't have much luck in the beginning, but look at me now."

"Yes, look at you now, and still so modest about it." Mila withdrew her hand and swung her leg to the other side of the wall before getting up. "Wait here, I'll be right back."

Henry put both of his feet on the ground and followed her with his eyes until she got lost in the crowd, he was really enjoying her company, he felt like he could listen to her talk for days. She's been gone for less than a minute and he already missed seeing her in front of him. She was so cute and beautiful and hot and smart and she was humane. For Christ's sake, she donated her bone marrow. Unbelievable, she is unbelievable. Mila finally came back after about five minutes which seemed like hours to Henry.

"Here you are," Mila handed him another piece of pizza and then set next to him, holding two of ice cream in one hand. "You are twice my size, I bet you're still hungry. And I bought us pistachio ice cream."

"Thank you." She was right, one piece was definitely not enough. She started nibbling on her ice cream before he finished.

Mila occasionally glanced at him, trying not to be too obvious, but every glance of hers was caught because he kept staring at her. When he was done, she handed him his cone. "Here you are."

Henry noticed a little bit of ice cream on Mila's upper lip. "You have a little..." He pointed to his lips, but before she could react, he swiped it with his thumb and brought it to his lips so he could lick it off.

A pool of heat formed in Mila's stomach and without thinking, she pressed the tip of her ice cream on the corner of his lips. "You have some ice cream on your face."

"Oh, really?" Henry grinned at Mila.

She leaned in, pressed her lips to the corner of his and licked it clean. Both pairs of eyes remained open, both of them caught by surprise by Mila's action. Mila slowly pulled away and Henry looked at his cone before pressing it to the center of her lips. "Oops." Henry cupped her cheek and pressed his lips to hers, he's been imagining it for weeks, but this was so much better. He applied gentle pressure, barely moving his lips at first. Every inch of Mila's skin got covered in goosebumps. Her hand landed on his thigh and she parted her lips slightly, loving the feeling of his darting tongue on them. Henry pushed his tongue deeper and and she welcomed it, parting her lips wider. Her hand squeezed his thigh as she grew bolder and her tongue started exploring his mouth, touching the roof of it. Henry moved his hand to the back of her head, tangling fingers in her hair, her hand also found a new stop, his hip. His tongue retreated a few times only to plunge back in her mouth, licking hers over and over again and warm feeling spread though his whole body.

Mila's breath was starting to get ridged and she was becoming light headed, but she was pulled back to Earth when Henry's ice cream dripped on her knee. She moved her hand to his cheek and pulled away, but not before pecking his lips once more. "Your ice cream is melting." She pointed at her stained knee before she swiped it, but Henry prevented her from licking it off herself by grabbing her wrist, bringing her hand to his lips, licking her finger, before sucking it and swirling his tongue around it, not taking his eyes of hers. Mila contained a moan, but it took her a lot strength to do so, as she imagined what it would be like for him to suck on other parts of her body.

"There, you are all clean now." He kissed the root of her palm before letting go. He noticed her pupils dilated and knew that she was feeling the exact same thing as he did at that moment and he didn't know how he managed to contain himself from taking her on that little wall then and there. "Let's go," he offered his hand and Mila took it. He led her through the crowd, not letting go of her hand until they were in front of the stage. He took the last bite of his ice cream and moved behind Mila, one hand crawled from one shoulder to another, across her chest, while he rested his other one below her breasts, placing his chin on top of her head. Music rhythm took over him and he started moving with it and Mila started swaying too, grabbing his forearm with both hands, leaning back.

The more they moved together to the beat, the bolder Mila became, she started gliding her hand over his arm, to his biceps and back to her other hand which hung on his wrist. At one point, she let go of his arm and kissed his hand which held her shoulder. Henry pinched her chin between his thumb and forefinger, angling her head so he could bite her lover lip before pressing soft kisses on it. She turned around, putting her hands on his neck, pulling him down and pressing her body against his as she kissed Henry over and over again. She let go of him, putting her heels on the ground, but his lips followed hers as he hugged her tightly with one arm while cradling the back of her head with the other. Her hands crawled up to his chest, pushing him away lightly. "I almost forgot there are people around us, we need to stop."

"Whatever you say," Henry nuzzled the back of her ear. "It's my turn to take you on a date tomorrow. Can you be ready at 7 tomorrow morning?"

"Sure, but if you want me not to be cranky because I didn't get enough sleep, we should get going now." Mila linked their arms together.

"Don't be surprised if you see someone on the beach in the morning." He unlinked their arms so he could hug her shoulders, kissing her temple.

She squinted at him. "Okay." They walked over to the Vespa and she fished out the keys, unlocking the basket first.

"Before you put that on," Henry crashed their lips together, teeth clashing together, his hands lowering to her knees and then going up her thighs, lifting her dress until he almost uncovered her ass.

Mila moaned, digging her nails in his hips, pressing her lower part of the body to his, receiving a groan in response. Henry grabbed her ass, deepening their kiss. "Henry," he continued kissing her despite her tugging at the back of his t-shirt. "Enough, leave something for tomorrow."

He squeezed her ass once more before letting go of her, adjusting her semi hard on while she was putting her helmet and getting on the Vespa. He did the same, hugging her tightly once again.

Mila tried to focus on the road as Henry lowered his hand to her thigh, trailing fingers all the way to her pubic mound, Mila felt a knot tying just above it. "Stop it, we will crash." Henry put his arm back on her stomach, but he grabbed her breast which filled up his hand perfectly. "Behave." She pushed his hand away and he behaved indeed for the rest of the short trip. Once they arrived, Henry tried to persuade her to take of his helmet so he could have a better access to her lips, but she refused. "I will never leave if I do that."

"I don't want you to leave." He kissed her despite the obstacle the helmet represented.

"Go, I'll see you tomorrow." She ran her had through his hair.

"Fine, fine. Goodnight." He waved at her and waited for her to get back on the road and drive away until he could see her.

Both of them pleasured themselves once they got into their showers, both of them imagining each other and both of them climaxing rather quickly.

Mila got up as soon as the alarm went off at 6 o'clock. She did her morning yoga and meditation, except that for the first time in 5 years, she didn't have to block Henry's feelings, she let his excitement float through her. When she was done, she grabbed some breakfast and got ready. A few minutes before 7 o'clock, she entered a balcony, seeing a small yacht anchored on the beach and a man getting on a jet ski behind its driver. At 7 sharp, a doorbell rang and Mila ran to the gates to open them. Henry was standing in front of the gates, holding a woven picnic basket. "Good morning," she waved at him, running to the gates.

He waved back. "Great minds think alike." He pointed at her clothes, she was wearing an indigo blue shorts and a white polo shirt, while he was wearing a white short pants and an indigo blue polo shirt.

"They do, indeed." She opened the gates and rose to her feet to peck his lips once he was in. "Taking the regular path to the beach today?"

"For a change." Henry put his hand in hers. "Did you take everything you need?"

"Let me just take my phone and a towel. I figured we'd also go swimming so I already put on my swimming suit. You can head down, I'll be right with you."

Henry took the stairs to the beach and waited a few moments until she was by her side. He took off his hoes and swung them one by one with them ending on the yacht. "You might need to do the same if you don't want to get your sandals wet."

She followed his advice and then followed him up the ladders, getting wet to her knees. "So, you're gonna be the captain today?"

He assisted her with the last few steps by giving her a helping hand. He pulled up the ladder and a wooden platform. "Mhm. I need to pull up the anchor and I'm gonna need your help, so you'll be the captain for a minute." They walked to the cockpit and Henry moved back the seat before starting the engines, he liked to steer while standing. "Just move the wheel in the direction I show you, okay?"

"I guess." Henry walked to the deck, checking the anchor chain, pointing to the right and Mila turned the wheel slowly and Henry started winching and he did so until the anchor was completely lifted and in place. Henry came back, taking over the wheel, moving the yacht slowly.

"I'm gonna take a look around." She walked around the yacht, it looked brand new, shiny white, with a lot of wooden details. She was grateful that if was a small one, the large robust ones didn't really seem secure to her. She soaked in the morning sun for a few minutes on the deck before going to the cockpit to Henry, who was intently staring at her while she was on the deck.

"I was getting lonely here." Henry glanced back at Mila.

"I'm sorry," she pressed her chest against his back, sneaking her hands below the ham of his shirt to his perfect abs, running over every single one of them with the tips of her fingers, feeling the gentle hair covering them. "You know, I think you would steer better if you took off your shirt."

"You think? Well, if you say so." Henry pulled his shirt over his head, throwing it to the side. Mila scratched every inch of his back gently, pressing soft kisses down his spine, making him shudder. He turned on his heel, pulling the edge of her shirt above her head as she instinctively pulled up her arms, throwing her shirt over his. "I think this is the only fair option."

"Oh, is that so? Well..." Mila pulled down her shorts, kicking it to over their shirts and their clothes started to pile up. "I'm raising the stakes."

Henry's eyebrow shot up and his lower lip immediately ended up between his teeth. Mila was so tiny and so perfect, maybe he did prefer tiny girls in the end, well, this particular tiny girl. He unbuttoned his short pants, pulling them down and sending them to join the rest of the clothes. "I would gladly continue with this game, but a beautiful cove is waiting for us." Henry got back to the steering wheel and Mila ducked under his arms facing him, she hugged him once again, resting her head against his chest. Henry kept one hand on the wheel, while he tugged her ponytail so she would look up, allowing him to trap her upper lip between his for a few seconds. He kissed the top of her head, gliding his hand over the smooth skin of her back. The exchange of soft kisses and caresses lasted until Henry announced that they arrived.

Henry went to the deck to anchor the yacht, leaving Mila at the wheel again. He lowered and secured the anchor before coming back. "Is everything okay?"

"Peachy." He shut off the engines and suddenly picked up Mila, catching her by surprise, her legs wrapped around his waist and arms wrapped around his shoulders. "Do you know how you make me feel?" He nuzzled his nose in her breasts.

"I kind of have an idea." She smoothed back his hair.

"Let's go for a swim." He let go of her and walked to the back, lowering the platform and the ladder.

Mila admired the beauty of the cove, a really narrow passage lead to it and it was surrounded by steep cliffs. "How did you find this place?"

"I asked the locals in the hotel." He picked her up again, but this time bridal style.

She squealed at the surprised contact. "What are you doing?"

"Well, we are going for a swim." He moved to the deck.

"There is a perfectly fine ladder just there. We can't jump, the water is freezing, I'm sure." Mila clutched his shoulders, trying to squirm out.

"Yes, we can." He stepped over a fence, jumping with her in his arms. He let go of her once they touched the water surface and he emerged first.

Water splashed over Henry's face as soon as Mila emerged. "I told you it was cold, you gufus."

"Race you to the passage." Henry started swimming, not waiting for them to start at the same time.

Mila was was half way there when Henry reached the goal. "That's not fair! We didn't start at the same time," Mila screamed at him as she continued to swim to him.

"Because that would make much of a difference." Henry dunked himself under water a couple of times while he was waiting for her to arrive. "You are so slow."

"Oh, shut up." Mila continued swimming through the passage. "Wow, this is just wow."

"And it echoes. Listen to this. Mila..." Her name echoed a few times. "...Is...The...Most...Gorgeous...Woman...On...The...Planet."

Mila swam to him, kissing the tip of his nose. "Let me try. Henry...Is...A...Cheater...Who...Doesn't...Play...Fair..."

Henry pulled her to him, biting her cheek before kissing it. "I'm so happy," he whispered in her ear.

"I'm glad you found your way to me," she whispered back. Their lips connected, molding perfectly together as Henry kept them both above the water. They swam around the cove for a while, splashing each other, kissing and hugging each other. "Henry, I don't think I have anymore strength."

"Okay, let's go." Henry led the way, but he adjusted his speed to hers, making sure she was always next to him.

When they reached the ladder, Henry grabbed them, getting ready to climb first, but Mila stopped him, holding his other hand, while she also grabbed the ladder with the other one. She started kissing his throat, with her tongue darting over every place her lips touched. He wrapped his arm around her waist and she wrapped her legs around him, pushing herself against him, feeling him getting harder by her every move.

Mila submerged her hand under water, tugging on the waistband of his swimming shorts. "Mila," he sunk his teeth in her shoulder.

"Shall I stop?" Mila pulled away her hand, but he caught it, putting it on her stomach.

"No, God, no." He grabbed the platform with both of his hands, towering over Mila, keeping himself above the water with the pure strength of his arms.

Mila hooked a finger under the waistband, not taking her eyes off Henry, she flattened her hand on his abdomen, moving it south until she was at the root of his penis, circling it with her forefinger and thumb. She bit her lip. "Thicker than I imagined you would be."

Henry smirked, but his smirk was gone when she went up his shaft, the rest of her fingers joining too, swirling around the tip. "Fuck." Mila sped up her movements, occasionally massaging his balls. Henry's forehead fell on hers, nose against nose, eyes still not breaking eye contact. His lower lip started trembling, his breath became uneven and the speed of his chest rising and falling changed. He shut his eyes as he twitched in Mila's hand a few times before shooting up jets of sperm which mixed with salty water.

Mila kissed him as his eyes were still shut and he became softer in her hand, causing her to retreat her hand from his shorts. "I'm going out." Henry still hanging onto the platform made Mila swim around him to reach the ladder. Just when she climb it, he was behind her in two steps.

"It's my turn to have fun now." He pressed himself against her back, lips on her neck, hands on her breasts. Mila pushed her ass against him, as the region between her legs started to tingle. Her breasts lost the grip of his hands as one of them covered her belly button and the other one sneaked inside the bottom of her bikini, the root of his palm putting pressure on her clit and his middle finger circling around her entrance. Mila inhaled sharply and her knees grew weak. "I already know I'm going to get addicted to your pleasure." He bit her earlobe, while pushing just the tip of his finger inside her. "Get on your back."

She covered his hand with hers, urging him to go deeper. "Here?"

"Mhm." Henry lowered himself to his knees, getting his hand out of her panties.

Mila did what he asked her to, sitting on the platform before lowering her back too. Henry watched her every move, adjusting his dick as he started to get hard again. Mila waited for him to make a move, but he didn't and she couldn't wait any longer to have something inside her, so started rubbing herself over her swimsuit before entering a digit inside her as Henry licked his lips watching her do it.

"Not today, darling, but I'd sure love to watch your show some other day." He pulled her knees apart and Mila got her hand out of the bikini bottom, Henry grabbed her hand, licking her middle finger that was inside her just a few seconds ago. "Delicious." He kissed the inner parts of her knees and rubbed his beard on both of her inner thighs, causing her to put her legs together. "Spread them, honey." He moved to her lips, covering her whole body while settling between her legs. His tongue penetrated her mouth and she kept letting soft moans as hers fought for dominance inside her mouth. He squeezed his arm between them, suddenly pushing two fingers inside her, causing her soft moans to become loud cries. He left her mouth to kiss her collarbone, while simultaneously moving his fingers in and out of her. He left her empty suddenly, pulling her swimsuit bottom down. "Lift your ass, these have to go." She followed his command and she was butt naked in front of him in a second. He bit her inner thigh before engulfing her labia in his mouth, applying pressure with his tongue on her clit, licking it and flicking it over and over again, preventing her from moving by pressing his forearm over her abdomen.

Mila felt her orgasm building up and her hand flew to his hair, he put two fingers back inside her, curling them up. Her head fell back as her heart rate jumped and her breath shortened. Feeling her whole body tensing, Henry moved up, kissing her fiercely, mixing the taste of her core with the taste of her lips. He added the third finger inside her, applying pressure on her clit with his thumb until she couldn't follow the rhythm of his kiss and her body spasmed , waves of pleasure washing over her, her legs jerking and her nails digging in his back. "Oh, God, Henry. Oh, my God. This was amazing." As she slowly got down from her high, she cupped his cheeks, kissing his whole face.

"It was, you are amazing, you smell amazing, you taste amazing, you clenching around my fingers feels amazing." He withdrew his fingers from her, rolling on his back, pulling her with him, letting her rest on top of him, running his fingers up and down her back. Henry was rock hard again and wanted to bury himself in her, he wanted to slam with full force, but he had planned that for tonight.

Mila felt his hardness on her stomach, only thin material separating it from her skin. "It seems that we are not done here yet," she started circling the lower part of body on him. "Did you bring protection?" Mila wanted to feel him inside, not his fingers, nor tongue, his dick, but she never did sex without protection and Henry wasn't an exception.

"Oh, how I wish I did." Brilliant thinking, Cavill. "I didn't really plan on this happening here. Not that I'm not enjoying it immensely."

"Well..." Mila set up on him, feeling his hardness below her, her shins resting on the platform on both sides of Henry. "We'll have to do it like this." She arched her back, grinding on him slowly, her still swollen labia enjoyed the friction against the fabric. Henry reached his arm to her breasts, pulling one side of her white swimsuit top down, exposing one of her breasts so he could twist and pinch her nipple.

Henry reached her lips, sticking two of his fingers inside her mouth, she sucked them and her tongue circled around them and Henry's hand moved to her hip, digging his fingers in her flash in a bruising manner, pressing her harder against him as she sped up, grinding for her own pleasure until her stomach clenched and she fell on his chest again. She stayed like that for a minute before placing kisses over his chest and down his stomach. She pulled down his shorts enough to take him out of them, she pumped him, loving the weight of his dick in her palm. Her lips placed kisses from the root to the tip before swallowing all of him, his tip hitting the back of her throat. "Jesus, Mila, you are my goddess." He grabbed her ponytail and she looked up, locking eyes with him. He started thrusting up slowly as she sucked him off. His dick started throbbing and Mila prepared herself for the semen he unloaded in her mouth. She sucked him dry, until there wasn't a drop left, she pulled her lips to the tip, letting go of it with a pop.

Mila got up to look for the bottom of her swimsuit and she put it on once she found it, adjusting her top to cover both of her breasts. Henry tucked himself in his shorts, but remained on the floor, unable to move. "I think I could get used to this." Mila stood above Henry, looking at his gorgeous blue eyes with a brown freckle, they had a special gleam in the sun.

"You better." He tapped a place next to him and Mila joined him on the floor again, using his biceps as a pillow.

"You are so unbelievably handsome," Mila kissed his jawline and scratched his beard.

He turned to his side, facing her, careful not to move his arm on which she was resting her head. He put his hand on her cheek, moving his thumb over the tips of her eyelashes. "I feel like I could conquer the whole world now. You are the piece that was missing all along."

"Well, you made your missing piece hungry. What can you offer me?" She lifted her head so she could rub her cheek against her beard.

"Some hotel sandwiches, strawberries and champagne. Will that satisfy your hunger?" He put his heavy leg over her thighs.

"That sounds great, big guy." She winked at him.

#henry cavill #henry cavill/oc #soulmates au

32 notes · View notes

eumarley · 3 years

Photo

⟨ ASHLEY MOORE. CIS FEMALE. SHE/HER. ⟩ though the mist might prevent some from seeing it, MARLOWE “MARLEY” SULLIVAN is actually a descendent of H E S T I A . it’s still a question of whether or not the TWENTY-SIX year old JOURNALISM MAJOR from PORTLAND, USA has taken after their godly parent completely, but the demigod is still known to be quite PROTECTIVE & SELF-SACRIFICING.

— BASICS:

Full Name: marlowe danielle sullivan, née pierce

Nicknames: marley, marls, marlboro light

Place of Birth: portland, oregon.

Date of Birth: april 28, 1994

Zodiac: taurus

Gender: cis female

Sexual Orientation: biromantic bisexual

Religion: atheist

Major: journalism

Courses: monsterology 2, combat tactics 1, pyrokinesis 2

— FAMILY:

Biological Mother: hestia

Biological Father: alexander pierce

Step-Mother: felicity pierce

Siblings: declan mccabe-pierce (step-brother)

Spouse: connor sullivan †

— HISTORY:

death tw; miscarriage tw.

Alexander Pierce had always been a very warm person, the welcoming type that made everyone feel safe and at peace. He’d met a woman one night, had a very, very short lived romantic relationship, around the span of two months. And the next day after those two months, there was a baby in his house, smelling of the woman he’d said goodbye to the day before. The note read a gift to the warmest man i’d ever met. He’d discussed with her wanting a child, but the woman said she pledged to remain chaste. And only then, with the baby in front of him, did he realize that when she had introduced herself as Hestia, she’d been the Hestia of legends.

Marley had wanted for nothing growing up, short of the pony that absolutely wouldn’t fit into their apartment. Her father adored her and she adored him equally in response. When she was four, though, he married Felicity. Felicity’s son was only a two years older, born to a single mother. It wasn’t the happiest little family, some tensions rising at times, but with Marley’s powers working before she even knew they existed, they became that perfect family.

Her powers never really showed during her childhood, not in obvious ways. Finding a pack of cookies in the back of the pantry after her step-brother gloated about eating the last pack was luck. New people loving her before they even really knew here was just a sign she was being raised right by her father. Her powers were never too obvious to monsters that she had to stay at camp year round. Her entire family dropped her off when she went her first time at twelve years old. In the summers, she would train at camp and she’d go to school in Oregon during the rest of the year.

She met her husband, Connor, the first year of college at Eonia, when she was twenty. It was a quick romance on both ends, though her bond manipulation helped with that. The feelings were there, she was positive. She just wanted him to be hers already. They were married by twenty-one (he was twenty-two) but when she was twenty-four, practicing her control over her pyrokinesis, the fire grew too big for her to control and Connor, unfortunately, didn’t make it out. She hasn’t used her pyrokinesis since. One week later, she miscarried their child.

She’s slowly returned to the person she was before Connor’s death, but it’s all fake. She generally puts on the mask because helping others distracts her from the grief and she tries not to put her burdens on anyone else. Her problems are hers and hers alone. After all, it’s her fault that she died.

— PERSONALITY:

Marley is the mom friend. She’s the person that always has her door open in case anyone needs her. There’s always a smile on her face but it’s not always real, she just doesn’t value her own issues as much as she values her friends. To her, her problems don’t matter because she had a better home life than the majority of her peers and she often berates herself saying her issues aren’t valid. Besides that, she’s very protective of her friends. If anyone hurts them, her temper gets away from her and she starts fires at her hands, ready to burn the world down for them. She’s the type of person to make everyone feel like her best friend and always feels like an open book, despite never actually opening up about any of her issues.

— POWERS:

BOND MANIPULATION — That was her first power to manifest, even if she doesn’t realize it. Her father got married when she was four and her step-mom, while no Lady Tremaine, wasn’t in love with her new husband having a child from what she was told was a one night stand. Marley wanted a full, happy family so badly that she subtly manipulated the bonds to give herself the perfect family. It was in little ways at first but she didn’t realize it until she was away at Camp Half-Blood during the summer and her influence had worn off. The relationship wasn’t tense when she got back but she started putting the pieces together when she had to put effort into bringing them back to a good place.

PYROKINESIS — She realized her ability to control fire around the age of seven, when she and her family had gone camping. Her dad and step-mom retired to their tent and her step-brother had told her he was going to go for a walk to use the bathroom away from their campsite. Instead, he snuck up behind her and scared her and when she screamed, the fire grew bigger and seemed to call to her. Before she could step into the flames, her step-brother grabbed her to protect her. As she’s grown older, she’s learned how to create new flames and surround herself with fire. It was something she actively trained with until she was twenty-four and she stopped completely.

SUMMONING FOOD — Her summoning food was something she never even realized she had until she was around thirteen. Going to a fast food restaurant took up the little remains of her allowance and she saw a homeless person come up short at the register. Instead of letting him go hungry, she gave him her meal and spent time talking to him. On her way home, she remembered that she was hungry and her powers acted instinctively. There was a granola bar in her hand and it was able to tide her over until she got home. The powers only grew from there but she almost never uses it for herself.

— MISCELLANEOUS:

She used her bond manipulation to make her husband fall in love with her.

Her husband died in a fire at their apartment complex that was too big for her to control.

She believes in Bigfoot, Nessie, and all manner of other cryptids.

She remained friends with the homeless man from her teenage years until she went off to college and even then, when she visited home, she would go see him.

She has food on hand literally all the time and if she doesn’t, she’ll summon some.

She often forgets to eat.

Hestia claimed her at the age of seven, the same night her step-brother scared her.

She loves s’mores. An unreasonable amount.

She plans to be the first reporter to prove the existence of Bigfoot.

She chain smoked all through her first two years at Eonia, earning her the nickname of Marlboro Light.

Connor knew about the bond manipulation long before she told him. It caused a bit of trouble, but as long as she never did it again, they were fine. (He did love her. Her powers only sped things up.)

She stopped smoking when she took a pregnancy test and it came back positive.

— WANTED CONNECTIONS:

if you expected me to have smth here, you are wrong.

#euintro

4 notes · View notes

cmrp7 · 4 years

Text

Sozin's Comet - Katara POV CHAPTER TWO

The night was getting colder as the comet drift far away by the second. We haven't caught a break since Azula was under control. I watch Zuko talking for what could only be person number eighty-two, he is in a lot of pain, I could tell. His forehead wore a shiny coat of sweat and his movements were very stiff.

I was very tired, I smell horrible, of sweat, animal (because of Appa) and burning hair. Zuko needed another session of healing.

As soon as Azula was in chains, people began to gather around us, guards left in the palace, Fire Sages, loyals to the crown, they all wanted to know what would happen. Those loyal to Zuko's father left, we didn't have the energy to fallow them.

"Tomorrow gather all the people who work in the palace in the throne room" Zuko was saying to an old lady and an old man, I have never seen them before, but he seemed to know them. "We need to clean this place from the kitchen to the Fire Sages."

"Of course, Fire Lord" they say in one voice, bowing respectfully.

"Thank you, Nato and Gia. Finally, we will be needing food in my chambers. " He said, his voice was getting raspy.

I took a step and hold him, surrounding him with my left arm. Nato and Gia took a step forward, their hands in front of them waiting to catch Zuko. He turns his head a look at me, he was about to pass out, his smile was sweet and tired, I smiled back at him.

Slowly we make our way thru the palace to his room. He didn't trust anyone enough to leave me alone, his words not mine, he asked me if I would mind sharing his room until he settles things down in the palace, I didn't mind so I accepted. I didn't trust anyone either, I won't leave him alone in his state.

"We need to take a shower. "He said letting out a breath while he sits down on his bed.

"I know" I reply sitting next to him, we were exhausted. "I would love a bath right now."

"Let's go then" he said, grabbing the post of the bed to help himself up. I push him a little bit with my hand on his back. "Thanks, the bathroom is right here, I can heat the water for you".

The bathroom was almost as big as his room, an enormous bathtub was in the middle of the room, filled with clean water. A small living room was to the right, and to the left a mirror and a table with personal hygiene items.

"Do you like the water very hot or warm? I personally like it extra hot, almost boiling" He said sitting next to the bathtub a placing one arm inside. "It's really cold"

"Warm is fine" I assure him, sitting next to him.

He let out a breath and the water started to issue steam.

"Done." He said shaking his hand removing the excess of water. "Here is everything you need" Next to him was a little table with a towel, soap, lotion, and even a hair comb.

"What about you?" I asked he needed to wash his injury. "I need to give another session of healing; you need to eat and rest as well."

"You need to eat and rest too, Katara. You look exhausted, please shower and rest. I will guard while you shower, then you will take the guard for me, okay?"

Well, if he says so. I truly needed the shower.

I stand at the same time he did, he was standing in front of me. In the aftermath, we look horrible. I can believe that we kiss merely hours ago, it feels like days.

We take a step at the same time and embrace each other, we did it. We are alive, and tomorrow we will know what happens with the others. The war was ending.

"We did it" He said in my ear, I want to kiss him so badly but I feel like I smell and taste like ash.

"I know" I said kissing his cheek carefully "I can't wait to see the others."

"I know" he repeats and he was looking my lips in such a way that warm was beginning to spread from my chest to other places.

He leans forward, wanting to kiss me, but I place my hands in his chest and lean backward. "Zuko I smell horrible" I laugh, I need to shower.

"I don't care." He says with a smile, grabbing me by the waist with both arms, pulling me close to him and kissing me all over with tiny kisses. My mouth, my cheeks, my neck….

I laugh, resisting him a little bit and fighting with little effort to get free. "That is gross" I said, laughing. "Seriously, get out." I smile holding his face with both my hands and I place my lips hard on his. I give a step back and gives him a little push to the door.

He was smiling, suddenly we both forgot how tired we were and enjoy the moment.

"Out" I yelled pointing to the door, a smile on my face, reluctant to leave.

"Fine" he said raising his arms to the sky, "If there is no other way, I will go…"

I quickly take off my shoe and throw it at him just for fun, he dodges it effortlessly and leaves the room not before throwing me another glare, just in case I change my mind. I didn't.

I take my stinking clothes off, leaving them on the floor next to the bathtub and go inside carefully. The water was warm and delicious against my skin. The water pouring down the edges of the tub while I let out a sigh and I sit down. I feel better instantly.

"Katara?" I hear Zuko's voice saying. Slowly I open my eyes, the water was not warm anymore. I felt sleep I realized, Zuko knocks one more time in the door "Katara, are you okay?"

I rubbed my face with both hands, trying to wake enough to talk.

The sound of the door opening makes me put my arms down, Zuko was next to me in an instant. "I am fine," I say sleepily, "sorry, I felt sleep" I was cold now, the skin of my hands to soft.

"I can tell" Zuko answer smiling a bit. He was already shower, his long hair was still wet, he was wearing no shirt and only some pajama pants, his wound strikingly red against his pallid skin.

"Hey," I say pointing at him, "you shower already, what about the guard?" I shiver, I needed to get out.

"I ask Gia a favor, I trust her. I know her since I was a kid, she has worked here her entire life." He kneels, places one hand in the water and heat it one more time. I hum with the pleasure of the hot water. "Is that better?"

"It is but I need to get out, my skin is itching. How long was I asleep?" He was trying not to see me naked I can tell, the soup leaves a delicate white coat, that was the only thing preventing him to see everything. I swallow.

"Okay, I just wanted to see if you were fine. They bring us food. I assume you are hungry; I am starving. I was waiting for you."

"Yes me too, I will be there in a second." He smiled and leave the room.

I stand and get out of the bathtub; with a simple movement, I bend the excess of water of my skin and let it back in the tub. I use body lotion and comb my hair. Alongside the towel, was a red robe, given that I didn't have any clothes and mine were so dirty I decided to use it.

"Wow," Zuko says as I close the door behind me, the satin fabric of the robe seemed to be flouting thru the floor while I was walking, it was so soft " you look like a fire lady" he said, chewing something in his mouth, a grape. A plate was in front of him, fresh fruit and two bowls of something smelling delicious.

"Oh really? That's funny, I believe I heard that I looked like a filthy peasant" I said crossing my arms in front of me.

He closed the distance between us and without waiting one more second, he kisses me, he tasted sweet and fresh, it was just like the first time we kiss. What I feel for him is real, and greater then I imagine, I guess I never permitted myself to dig into it, I never give way for this kind of emotion or care for him. But there was no way back now, I want him, I care too much about him. I always felt this attraction between us, but I never realized the intensity of these emotions. I have hungry for him, having hi this close wasn't enough I wanted more. I grab him by the neck and pull him against me, my breast touches his wound and he winces. "Oh, I forgot." I said taking a step back. "I am sorry, I need to heal you".

"No" he said pulling me again toward him "I don't care I just want to kiss you; you smell so good." His nose was caressing my neck, the familiar warm spreading thru my body again. My skin was hot and I miss his lips on mine. He goes up my neck kissing me now, I lean my head to the side, giving him space.

The sound of the door startles us, and we both stop and look. Someone was knocking.

"Now what?" Zuko growl, his forehead resting on my shoulder. "What is it?" He screams, walking to the door.

"The kitchen forgot your beverages, Fire lord." A man said, Zuko open the door and a fat short man was caring a tray with a couple of glasses and two jars, I couldn't tell what was on them.

"Do not disturb us if is not a matter of life or death" He took the tray and close the door in front of the poor man.

"That was rude." I said crossing my arms and frowning at him. He was very rude sometimes when talking to people and I didn't like it one bit. With me even his tone of voice changes, but with other people, his voice was as cold as ice.

"For all I know, this water is poison Katara. This food too, by the way." He places the tray alongside the food.

"That is not funny"

"It wasn't a joke." He sighs, "My father loyalist won't be happy with my taking the throne, I would face a lot of resistance, of that I am sure, they will try to kill me many times over."

A vail taste formed in my throat, this wasn't over…. Zuko will keep fighting who knows for how long.

He grabs my hand and pulls me to him with a smile, "don't make that face, I would be fine, If not you heal me, deal?" He joked with a playful tone of voice.

I would love to tell him that we should go away, found something that makes me happy far away from this evil city, but I know that he is the only one who can make it better. Besides, I think that this is what he wants, he wants his home to be a place when people can be happy, and not only think of death and pain when someone is talking about the Fire Nation.

"Well, for now, I can take care of this" I took a step forward and place my hands over the food, I close my eyes and let my healing powers flow, searching inside the water of each fruit, then the soup and the easiest at the end the jar of juice and water. "The food is safe" I declare.

"What did you do?" Zuko asks crossing his arms in front of his muscular chest. Still shirtless by the way, it was a sight.

"I tried to find something wrong with the water on the food as if a disease."

"Clever girl" He said placing a kiss in my cheek. "You are amazing with your healing, is this what you would like to do in the future?

The future… I haven't even thought about that. Where is my future, should I go back to my home? I have no idea…

"I don't know…" I said taking a grape and placing it in my mouth. With a bite, the fruit exploded and a splash of sweet juice makes my mouth water. It was delicious.

"Well, I will help you with whatever I can"

We ate, a little bit, we were more tired than anything. In his bed, I care to his wound living me even more tired.

"This scar will never go away" I say to him, dragging my voice, I need to sleep.

"This won't be the last one" he said, his arms resting under his head, his eyes closed.

He was accepting his violent and disturbing future very dramatically.

I did what I could, Zuko was half slept by the time I finish, but when I took my power away his eyes shot open, he pulled me to him, I comfortably lay on my side, his body against my back fitting like a glove. "Thank you, Katara" He whispered in my ear, and I drift away, falling in a pleasant sleep feeling like a whole new person with him at my side.

#zutara fanfiction #katara #avatar #atla #zutara week #avatar fanfiction #fanfic #what the hell

5 notes · View notes

yandere-flower · 5 years

Note

This is an idea for a prompt or request. I like the idea of Villain Reader captured by a hero, maybe Aizawa. She at first doesn’t know what to make of his kindness toward her. Oddly enough she finds herself developing feelings for him much to her disgust. Finally she escapes. Sometime later there’s a LOV attack and she’s making an escape until she sees a hurt Aizawa and she is conflicted. She ends up saving him. He recaptures her again but she doesn’t mind at all.

Thanks for the prompt, I had a lot of fun with this one! No NSFW in this one but I liked writing the feelings of the reader so I’m pretty happy with this one!

Aizawa x Reader; Multiple instances of kidnapping y’all

The first time you came across the Quirk Erasering hero you had just started working with the League. You had mostly stayed back, minding your own tasks while trying to get a grasp for the dynamic of the League. There were suppose to be any heroes, at least not yet. When the police and a few pro heroes started to collide with the gang of low life heroes you had hired, you figured you best make your escape. No point in you being in the spot light, and you weren’t about to start advertising yourself as in link with the League just yet.

Thankfully the city in the dead of night provided the perfect coverage for someone with a camouflage quirk, allowing you to swiftly make your escape from the scene. What you hadn’t expected was someone following you.You weren’t certain at first, the sounds of late night drunks and cars filled the air and you stopped to asses your surroundings. You knew you should’ve just keep running, that the chances someone saw you was unlikely. Still, your couldn’t risk leading anyone back to headquarters, and certainly not your own place of residence. You waited, back against the wall and quirk activated in preparation for getting the drop on whoever was making you feel uneasy.

But when you went to case the back alley you were traveling through, you had suddenly found yourself face down on the ground. The loose gravel scrapped against your cheek, yet you were more focused on the fabric that was tightly wrapped around you ankle. Before you could question what was going on, you found yourself being dragged across the rough patches of street. Whoever was pulling you must’ve been strong, as despite your best efforts to claw at the ground and pull yourself up, your attacker was one step ahead of you. You body came to a halt, and for a second you thought you have a chance. Quickly you went to rise, but a heavy boot met your back, smashing you body back into the ground. You turned your head to get a glimpse of your attacker and you were met with the red, steely gaze of what you could only assume was a Pro-Hero.You remember what he first said to you.

“Did you really think you could just sneak away from the havoc you created?” he spat out, his voice heavy with resentment. “Maybe it was my fault for assuming you’d at least try and stay to protect your “employees”, but I suppose it was foolish for me to assume you’d waste yourself on low life’s like them”.

His voice calmed as he went to restrain you further, and you remember feeling unease by the tone of his voice. At the time you thought it was just about getting caught, thinking the League would have to save your ass. But you knew better now.

How you got from point A to point B was a blur, but where you ended up certainly wasn’t with the walls of a prison. At least not in the traditional sense. The man had blindfolded you, and once you regained your vision you found yourself in a small, dull room with nothing more than a bed and a bathroom to the side. Your wounds were carefully bandaged and cared for, who would do that simple scraps and bruises was beyond you. Your confusion overwhelmed you, yet you still hadn’t realized the gravity of the situation until later. You recall thinking that perhaps this was some new prison system, that maybe you made the big leagues in term of villainy and now you got to be one of those special prison villains. Your warden certainly thought you were special, but you weren’t being held here for your crimes. Not fully anyway.

Dinner time was the moment your entire world view had changed. Your ankle was cuffed to the bed, and you couldn’t do anything but sit there and stew in your mistakes. The door creaked open, and the man walked in with a bowl of something that was admittedly good. You remember because it was your favorite, potato curry over rice with lots of carrots. You always got it from the little restaurant across the street from your apartment. You couldn’t be comforted by the notion however, the specificity of the meal only set you more at ease. He watched you eat, silent and unnerving. He was a handsome man, but the face he worse was tired looking, worn by many restless nights. You hated silence.

“Am I suppose to know who the fuck you are or something” you scoffed, hoping to hurt the man’s pride. But this man didn’t feel things like pride or shame, things that would prevent him from his goal. The way he chuckled irked you, like he was mocking your attempt. Mocking you lack of context for why you were here. You were livid. “Is this some kind of new rehab for villains or some shit? Are you suppose to be the good cop? Where’s the hard ass hiding?” your anger boiled to the top as you lashed out at the hero.

“In a sense, sure. You have to pay for your crimes. But you’re not beyond saving” he replied, the calmness in his demeanor serving only to piss you off more.

Saving? You wanted to tell him he was full of shit.

And you did.“You’re full of shit”. Your voice was heavy with disgust, and you couldn’t stand to stare at the man any longer. You fell back onto the bed, surprised by the softness of the mattress and the undoubtedly high thread count linens.

You heard him breathe out, keeping his composure. Light foot steps reached the door, the clanking of the locks loud in the air. Before he closed the door behind him you heard him say,

“You could be so much more”.

That alone made you pissed for the next few days, besides the whole prison/warden complex the to of you had going on. You didn’t under what games he was playing, but you weren’t about to be a part of it. However, as time moved on it became harder and harder to stay mad at him. Every breakfast was homemade, every dinner your favorites. One days you didn’t lash out, you were gifted with pastries and desserts. You never asked how he knew you had such a sweet tooth, but you didn’t ask him about a lot of things he seemed to know.

Days began to blur, and the only knowledge of the outside world you got was what he provided for you. If you were polite, talkative, the two of you would have a conversation. At first it was mostly you asking questions. When would you be released? Weren’t you entitled to a lawyer? Why was he the only one you got to see?. You didn’t get an answer normally, at least one that wasn’t laced with bullshit. But you wanted to the company. You had to confess to yourself, it’s been lonely for a long time. Most social people with great relationships didn’t become villains, and you weren’t some exception. You began to crave these conversations, moving on from yourself and instead wanting to known about him.

His name is Aizawa, and he was teacher at UA. When he told you, you internally cringed at not knowing who he was. But if he was hurt by your lack of recognition he never revealed it. In fact, Aizawa was never harsh or rude to you. His approach to you was always neutral, if not a little bit kind. Even on the days you cursed and ripped into him verbally, he would only respond with respect. He was perhaps the most consistently kind person to you. If you had someone like him in your life before, maybe you wouldn’t have ended up his prisoner in the first place. But you were. Both a villain and a prisoner and this man couldn’t change that you decided.

He was good. He always knew exactly what to say to prevent himself from divulging to much information, to reel you in. He kept a long enough distance from you that you couldn’t get an advantage over him. Your cutlery was always dull and plastic. As much as he began to trust you, to confide in you, you both knew the dynamic. But you wouldn’t have become a villain if you didn’t think good could mess up.

One day, he forgot to fully close the clasp on your chain. You were shocked, both in that he would mess up so badly and at the thought of escaping. You used your quirk and hid against the wall, waiting for him to unlock the door. You were surprised at how much it hurt you, his face when he realized he couldn’t see you. It was a rapid moment, but it was all you need to knock him out before he could use his quirk to keep you down. You ran. You ran through the door and up the stairs into what looked like a house. Fuck, he lived here. At the time you couldn’t stop to think about that implication, busting your way out of the building. He must have been frazzled, distraught at losing you because he never caught up to you that day. Your own thoughts sickened you, disappointed that he didn’t get close to catching you again. Maybe he didn’t believe in you anymore. That thought sickened you more.

You went back to the League, the only group of people you knew that would potentially feel something about your return. You were always on edge about seeing Aizawa again. It took you a while to realize you wanted to see him again. You wanted to see him drop his ambivalent facade and light up when he say you. You wanted him to try and pin you down, only with his body this time. You hated yourself for thinking this, telling yourself that you’d feel this way about anyone who provided your favorite foods. You never wanted to fuck the lady who took your order at your favorite restaurant however.

You began to get angry again. Why wasn’t he trying to ruin your stunts? What happened to your “rehabilitation”. Was his determination just a joke, did he really give up that easily. You found yourself growing to resent him, resent his failings as a hero. So when the League announced they were going to launch an attack on a group of Pro-Heroes directly, you were the first to volunteer. The moment you saw his picture on the board a feeling ignited within you. You were so ready to prove him wrong. To ruin his plan just an extra step for good measure. He was going to have to live with his failure.———————————————————————————————————–

Things didn’t go exactly as planned.

It was carnage to say the least. The Pro-Heroes the League had ambushed weren’t prepared at all. Every move was calculated perfectly, and the heroes were no match for you. The intention was never to kill any of them, to let them live with the public humiliation, yet others had different ideas.

You had spent the whole battle half heatedly fighting and desperately searching for your man. When you found him he looked dreadful. Blood covering his body and his face littered with lacerations. The villain hovering over him wouldn’t stand a chance in most circumstances. He took advantage of REAL villains, of REAL power. He was pathetic and you weren’t about to let him take away from your victory. He didn’t see you coming. Well, most people didn’t see you coming. You were never one for murder, but you suppose you’ve changed a lot.

You dropped your quirk and quickly ran to Aizawa. His face twisted in what you would assume was confusion, and most defiantly out of pain from you hands moving to apply pressure to his wounds. His breathing got heavier, and while you know it was because of what bad shape he was in, you secretly wished it was because your hands were touching his body. You wrapped him up as quickly and best you could with what little you had.

You knew you should’ve ran away then, make your escape before he regained enough strength to cuff you. He would surely send you to a real prison this time. But you just lingered there. Waiting. The two of you just stared into one each others eyes, waiting for the other to make a move. Nothing. You’re not going to wait and be humiliated, so you retreat with the rest of the League as to not raise suspicions. You wanted to stay with him, despairing at the thought of him injured.———————————————————————————————————–

Another few weeks went by and you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking about Aizawa. You saved his life and he still didn’t believe you were worth rehabilitating. Sure, you murdered someone right in front of him but you also saved him. He said it himself, they were low life’s. You missed his cooking, his faint smiles, the way he would drift asleep on the other side of the room so he wouldn’t have to stop talking to you.

You decided to try and feel the hole in your heart by going to your favorite take out spot again. You seldom went anymore, not wanting to be reminded of the man. You waited patiently for your order, listening to the static surrounding whatever radio host was on this late at night. You gathered utensils and grabbed your food you headed out to another lonely night at home. Your walk for the most part was the same as always, except you couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching you. You didn’t indulge the little bit of hope growing inside you.

You watched the way your feet moved as you walked, thinking that it would provide a good opening. Nothing. You were to out in the open. You took a detour and ducked into the alley beside your place. The walls of the building were so high that the moonlight barely reached into the dimly lit alley. Your body grew hotter, every little noise setting you off. You were about to give up before you were swiftly tied up from chest to ankles. Instead of being dragged across the ground, Aizawa quickly pulled you tight into his embrace. His scent enveloped you, taking over all your senses. You could’ve sworn you could taste him at this point. He lifted your chin to look into your eyes and that moment you know it was all over for you. Gently he wrapped a soft cloth around your eyes and you shivered at the thought of returning home.

Excitement flowed throughout your body, the trip home feeling much longer than you had remembered. You couldn’t help but smile as you both descended down the stair case, his hand gently laying on your hip to help guide you. You legs shaked as you heard him unbolting the locks. You could’ve sworn there were way more this time, but you couldn’t complain since you were so close. He guided you to stand in front of him in the room, and slowly he removed your blindfold.

You were blown away by the difference in the room since you were last here. The walls painted a blush color from your old apartment, the furniture a bright white color that made the room seem lighter. The linens were plush, piled on with an abundant amount of pillows. Instead of a dainty twin bed, the room was mostly filled with a massive king sized bed, with only enough room for an end table and a lavish loveseat in the corner of the room. His arms wrapped around your waist as he hummed into your ear.

“I wanted it the be perfect, to incentives you”. He was so quiet before that you had already missed his voice.

All this time he was perfecting it for you. Matching it to everything you loved so you would never leave him again. You didn’t want him doubting your commitment, not again. You slide out of his arms, mourning the loss of his closeness. He watched you as you crawl onto the bed, sliding your wrists in the soft padding of the restraints, inviting him to come lock you in and show you your place.

#yandere x reader #yandere mha #yandere bnha #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere #yandere aizawa #aizawa x reader #asks #fic

222 notes · View notes